[lovelee-evan]

✮ (챙) 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆’s overflowing love for user @h_evva_n , portrayed through her writings. nineteen. adult blog (mdni) slow writer, no schedule. read rules.

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— recent work 𐙚⋆.˚

this wasn’t in the script? — celeb!hee x fem!reader

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𝒀𝑶𝑼 ’𝑹𝑬 𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑻 𝑩𝑼𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼 ’𝑹𝑬 𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑺𝑴𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑫

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[lovelee-evan]

hiii let's be mutuals !! i've been on tumblr for a while but only started actually posting on my blog recently 🥺 i love ur work hehe

of course! let’s gooo!

[lovelee-evan]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 : 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝟐 — heeseung lee oneshot

summary. drunk your ass off, you confessed to your long-time crush since freshmen year in the graduation party where everyone gathered to have their final fun before finishing college. spoiler alert: he rejected you, and now years later you meet him again in a reunion party, with the same feelings, yet years apart.

pairings. excrush!heeseung x fem!reader

content / warning. mild angst + fluff, profanities here and there, mentions of alcohol, suggestive scenes (no actual smut! fade to black), lmk if i miss anything !!

w.c. 9.5k

“No way. I’m not going,” you said, sipping onto your peach milk tea like that settled the matter.

Yunjin didn’t even blink. She just stared at you over the rim of her iced americano, unimpressed. “You haven’t even heard the details.”

“I don’t need to,” you replied smoothly, setting your drink down. “I already have plans that day.”

“Oh really?” she leaned back, crossing her arms. “What plans?”

“…Important plans.”

She raised a brow. “Name one.” You hesitated for half a second too long. “Laundry.”

Yunjin snorted. “You’re skipping a once-in-four-years reunion… to wash clothes.”

“It piles up,” you defended weakly. “Hygiene is important.”

“Right. Because you’ve totally never let laundry sit for a week before.”

You ignored that. “Also, I might be tired. Work has been very, extremely exhausting.”

“You literally just told me yesterday you’ve been bored out of your mind.”

“…I can be tired and bored.”

“Mm-hmm.”

You grabbed your cup again, taking another long sip just to avoid her stare. “Plus, I don’t really like crowds.”

Yunjin blinked. “You went to a concert last month.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“…There was music.”

“There will be music at the reunion.”

You paused. “…I don’t like that kind of crowd.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm, eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re running out of excuses.”

“I’m not making excuses,” you said quickly. “I just don’t feel like going. It’s not that deep.”

“It’s very deep,” she shot back. “You said no before I even finished the sentence.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again.

Okay, maybe that part was true.

Yunjin tilted her head, studying you like she was trying to crack a code. “What is it, then?”

“Nothing,” you said immediately.

“Liar.”

You let out a small groan, dropping back into your chair. “Why do you care so much if I go or not?”

“Because,” she said simply, “you used to love this kind of thing. Reunions, gatherings, all that nostalgic stuff. And now suddenly you’re acting like it’s a life-threatening event.”

You fiddled with the straw in your drink, pushing the ice around. “People change.”

“Not that much.”

Silence settled between you for a moment, filled only by the low hum of the café and the occasional clink of cups.

Yunjin softened, just slightly. “Look, I’m not saying you have to stay all night. Just… show up. Say hi. Exist for a bit.”

You stared at your drink again, watching the condensation slide down the plastic cup.

“…What if it’s awkward?” you muttered.

“It will be,” she said without hesitation.

You looked up at her.

She grinned. “For, like, five minutes. Then you grab a drink, talk to a few people, and suddenly it’s not a big deal anymore.”

You exhaled slowly, unconvinced. “Or it stays awkward.”

“Then we leave,” she shrugged. “Simple.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re not going to ditch me there, right?”

“Wow. I’m offended.”

“That’s not a no.”

She placed a hand dramatically over her chest. “I would never. I’ll be glued to your side the whole time.”

“…That sounds worse.”

Yunjin laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am, being forced into social events against my will.”

“You’re not being forced,” she corrected. “You’re being strongly encouraged.”

You huffed, tapping your fingers against the table. “I just don’t see the point. It’s been years. Everyone’s doing their own thing now.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Which is why it’s interesting. You get to see how everyone turned out.”

You raised a brow. “And what if I don’t want to know?”

“Too bad,” she shot back lightly. “Curiosity is part of being human.” You shook your head, but a small smile threatened to break through.

She caught it instantly. “There it is.”

“There what is?”

“That face,” she pointed. “The ‘I’m about to give in but I don’t want to admit it’ face.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” You held her gaze for a second… then looked away first.

“…I’ll think about it,” you mumbled.

Yunjin lit up like she’d just won something. “That means yes.”

“It means maybe.”

“It means yes.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you love me,” she shot back effortlessly.

You sighed, reaching for your drink again.

“…We’ll see,” you said, trying to sound firm—but it came out a little too uncertain to be convincing.

Yunjin only smiled, completely unfooled.

And a week later, you arrive at the specially booked restaurant, arms locking with Yunjin, who has the brightest smile on her face people would mistake it for her birthday party.

You look around, already noticing familiar faces. Classmates who you shared one class with, those who you met on frat parties, and even those who you have worked with in the college’s management before.

“Holy fuck. Everyone’s here.” You sigh at Yunjin, who just chuckles. “That’s the point, darling. A reunion—Oh! There’s Minjeong! Hi!” She smiles.

Kim Minjeong, another mutual friend of yours who you’re quite close to, has been overseas a lot lately, so it’s been hard to keep in touch. She isn’t technically outgoing, but when hanging out with her, it’s plenty of fun.

“Hey, girls! It’s been ages!” She goes in for a hug, which the both of you reciprocate.

“You’re the one traveling around the world. I still meet this girl every week.” Yunjin blurts out, while Minjeong passes two glasses of champange.

You politely decline. “I’m driving.” You smile, but Yunjin wriggle her eyebrows. “Or you don’t wanna make some stupid drunk mistake again?” In which you pinch her side, making her yelp.

Fuck.

Minjeong claps her hands, as if remembering a completely significant detail in her life. “Right! I heard it from Yunjin, I was so wasted I missed it.” She laughs.

You can feel yourself heating up from embarrassment. “You both remember yet you still ask me to come?” You grit your teeth.

“Relax…it’s bee…what, 4 years? I kid you not no one in this room remembers.”

Just as she say that, a group of four men enters the room. Your eyes wander to one of them, and you already feel like throwing up.

“I can’t do this.” You are about to turn away from them, removing Yunjin’s arm.

“Girls!” Jay, the ever-so-loud and familiar goes up to your group. The other three followed him without hesitation.

“Wow…you guys barely change..” Yunjin says, analyzing their faces as if so much could change in a matter for four years.

“Can’t say the same to you guys, you guys look more mature now.” Jake teases while the three of you try your best not to give him the stinkiest stare known to mankind.

While they kept on conversing, your eyes landed on the last guy in the group.

Features as sharp as you remembered, only more defined now—time had carved a quiet confidence into him. His hair was a little longer, styled like he didn’t try too hard but still got it right, and the way he carried himself… steadier, grounded.

Older.

Familiar.

Dangerously so.

Lee Heeseung.

His eyes capture yours, and years of attempt to bury the past seems to fail you right there and then.

4 YEARS AGO

Your head is hazy.

The music is too loud—bass pounding through your chest, lights blurring every time you blink. Everything feels warm, unsteady, like the floor might tilt if you stand still for too long.

You shouldn’t have had that last drink.

Or the one before that.

Or… any of them, really.

But it’s too late now.

Because across the room—

You see him.

And suddenly, the noise fades just enough for your thoughts to latch onto one thing.

There he is.

Your heart lurches, something bubbling up in your chest—something that’s been sitting there for far too long.

It feels big.

Too big.

Too loud to keep in anymore.

Before you can think better of it, you’re already moving—pushing through people, brushing past shoulders, ignoring the way someone calls your name from behind.

By the time you stop, you’re right in front of him.

He looks surprised.

“Hey—are you okay?” he asks, eyes scanning your face.

You stare at him.

God, why does he look so… normal?

Like he hasn’t completely rearranged your brain chemistry just by existing.

“I need to tell you something,” you say, words slightly slurred but determined.

His brows pull together. “Maybe not right now, you look—”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “No, I have to say it now.”

A few people nearby glance over.

You don’t notice.

Or maybe you just don’t care.

Because your heart is racing too fast, your thoughts tripping over each other as they try to come out all at once.

“I like you, Heeseung.” you blurt.

There it is.

Out. Done. No taking it back.

Silence.

His expression freezes—caught completely off guard.

“…You do?” he says after a beat, like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.

You nod, a little too hard. “Yeah. Like—like a lot. For a long time.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Too long.

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly scrambling for something to say. “I—I didn’t know that.”

“Well, yeah,” you let out a shaky laugh. “That’s why I’m telling you now.”

“Right,” he nods slowly, still processing. “I just—uh…”

He hesitates.

And that’s all it takes.

That tiny pause.

That flicker of uncertainty.

Your chest tightens instantly.

Because in your head, it already sounds like a no.

“I mean,” he starts carefully, “you’re really—”

“Oh my god,” you cut in, the words hitting you all at once. “You don’t like me.”

He blinks. “Wait—no, I didn’t say—”

“It’s fine,” you laugh, but it comes out sharp. Too sharp. “You don’t have to do the whole ‘you’re really nice’ thing, I get it.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave him off, stepping back slightly. “No, it’s cool. Totally cool.”

Your heart is pounding now—but not in the same way.

Hot. Embarrassed. Defensive.

“Wow,” you let out another laugh, louder this time. “I really picked the worst time to say that, huh?”

He looks genuinely concerned now. “Hey, maybe we should talk when you’re a bit—”

“What? Sober?” you shoot back. “So I can be rejected properly?”

“I’m not rejecting you,” he says quickly.

But you’re already shaking your head.

“No, no, you are,” you insist, like you’ve already decided it. “It’s fine. You don’t like me. Great. Awesome. Love that for me.”

“Can you just—listen for a second?”

You scoff, folding your arms. “Oh, now you want me to listen.”

“I’ve been trying to—”

“Save it,” you cut him off, your voice rising without you meaning to. “You hesitated. That’s all I needed.”

A few more people are definitely watching now.

Still—you don’t stop.

“Honestly, it’s whatever,” you ramble, words spilling out faster now. “You’re not even—like, all that.”

His brows lift slightly. “…What?”

“Yeah,” you nod, doubling down. “You’re just—there. Like, I don’t even know why I—”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

A hand suddenly grabs your arm.

You turn to see Yunjin, eyes wide and mildly horrified.

“Abort,” she mutters under her breath.

“Wait, no—” you try to pull back, pointing at him. “He needs to hear this—”

“He really doesn’t,” she says, already dragging you away.

Another friend appears on your other side, helping her pull you back through the crowd.

“You’re making a scene,” Yunjin hisses.

“I’m not—!” you protest, twisting to look over your shoulder. “I just think it’s funny how he—”

Your words fade as the distance grows, the noise swallowing everything again.

The last thing you see is him standing there—

Still.

Confused.

Like he didn’t even get the chance to finish what he was going to say.

By the time graduation rolled around, you had a plan.

A very simple one: Get your certificate. Take pictures. Leave.

No lingering. No wandering around. And most importantly—no running into him.

“Okay, one more!” Yunjin called, already dragging you back into place with the rest of the girls.

You forced a smile, adjusting your gown as the camera flashed again.

Click.

Another one.

Click.

“Wait, wait—this lighting is good, don’t move!” someone said, pulling you slightly to the side.

You laughed, letting them reposition you, arms slinging around familiar shoulders as you leaned in.

For a moment, it felt normal.

Easy.

Like nothing embarrassing had ever happened.

“Family next!” your mom called from behind the crowd, waving you over.

“Coming!” you replied quickly—maybe a little too quickly.

You slipped out of the group before anyone could stop you, weaving through people until you reached your family. Your mom immediately fussed over your hair, your gown, your everything.

“Stand properly—smile nicely,” she said, fixing your collar.

“I am smiling,” you insisted.

“Not like that. A proper smile.”

You forced one, holding it as the camera flashed.

Click.

Another angle.

Click.

“Okay, now one more—”

“How many is one more?” you muttered under your breath, but stayed in place anyway.

More flashes. More poses.

You nodded along, played your part, laughed when you were supposed to.

But your eyes—

Your eyes kept moving. Scanning. Just in case.

Just to make sure.

“Alright, done!” your dad finally said, lowering the camera.

“Great!” you replied instantly, already stepping back. “Okay, I’m just gonna—uh—go find the girls again—”

“Wait, one more with your aunt—”

“I’ll come back!” you said quickly, already inching away.

You didn’t wait for a response.

You turned.

And walked.

Fast.

Not running. Definitely not running. Just… walking with urgency.

In the opposite direction.

Away from the crowd.

Away from—

“Hey.”

You froze. Oh no.

Slowly, you turned. And there he was.

Standing just a few steps away.

Of course.

Of course this would happen.

Your brain short-circuited for half a second before you forced out the most normal response you could manage.

“Oh—hey,” you said, like your heart hadn’t just dropped to your stomach.

There was a brief pause.

He looked like he wanted to say something.

Anything.

You didn’t give him the chance.

“Congrats, by the way,” you added quickly, words coming out a little too fast. “On, you know—graduating. Obviously.”

Wow.

Incredible.

He blinked, a little caught off guard. “…Thanks. You too.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” you nodded, already stepping back. “Okay, I’m gonna go—my friends are—uh—waiting.”

They weren’t.

But that didn’t matter.

“Wait—” he started.

“I’ll see you around!” you cut in, already turning away.

And then—

You bolted.

Actually bolted this time.

Straight back into the crowd, not daring to look over your shoulder.

You didn’t stop until you found Yunjin again, grabbing onto her arm like a lifeline.

“Hey—what—” she started.

“We’re leaving,” you said immediately.

“Now?”

“Now.”

She blinked. “But we haven’t took pictures with—”

“I said now.”

She stared at you for a second… then glanced past you, as if piecing things together.

“…Did you see him?”

You didn’t answer.

You didn’t need to.

Yunjin sighed, already gathering her things. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Please,” you muttered.

She shook her head, but didn’t argue further.

And just like that—

You made your exit.

Quick.

Clean.

And determined to never, ever relive that moment again.

PRESENT TIME

You find yourself spacing out the whole time the group talk to each other, reminiscing old memories, fun times at parties, late night study sessions that ends up in a movie marathon.

However you can’t seem to focus.

Not when he’s literally sitting beside you, while the others talk like everything’s fine.

To be fair, everything is fine. You’re the one that’s having issues right now, while the others clearly moved on from that incident.

“Not drinking?” You hear his voice beside you.

You turn to him, and his eyes are already on you.

You shake your head. “I’m on the wheel back home, and I don’t trust Yunjin driving me back.”

He lets out a small laugh. Eyes wrinkling and his smile soft, like always.

“Don’t make that your limitation. The cabs are always there.” He says, motioning you the untouched glass of champagne.

You wonder did he see you eyeing everyone’s lips as they took sips of their own drinks, feeling envious—or he’s trying to force you to drink.

You immediately dismiss the latter. No way. He’s not the type. Definitely not.

So, carefully, slowly, you lift your drink to your lips, forcing your hand not to shake. You tip it just enough to take a sip, letting the liquid slide down like a quiet, private concession.

And when you set the glass down, your eyes flicker to him again.

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t comment. Just… watches.

Something about the way he looks at you makes your chest tighten in a way you can’t name yet.

He leans slightly closer as if to be heard over the music, tilting his head with that familiar, careful expression. “So… how’ve you been?”

You blink, caught off guard. It’s casual, normal—easy—but somehow it makes your stomach twist. “I… I’ve been good,” you say, keeping your voice steady. “Busy. You know how it is.”

He nods, the corners of his mouth tilting up just slightly. “Yeah, I do. Still working in journalism?”

You grin faintly, a little proud despite the nerves. “Yeah. Mostly features and interviews now. I cover some big events, travel occasionally… keeps me on my toes.”

He whistles softly. “That’s… impressive. I didn’t realize you’d gotten that far.” His tone is easy, conversational, but you catch the hint of genuine interest in his eyes.

“And you?” you ask, leaning slightly forward. “Still with media? Behind the camera side of things?”

He chuckles, a low, easy sound that makes you almost forget the pounding of your heart. “Yeah, same scene. Producing mostly, sometimes directing. We haven’t… crossed paths though, have we?”

“Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “Funny how that works, right? Same world, just… never colliding.”

He laughs quietly, almost ruefully. “Guess some things just take their own time.”

You glance at him, noticing the subtle change in his expression—something softer, more open than you remember. The air between you feels… lighter, and yet, heavier, in a way that keeps your fingers gripping your drink a little too tightly.

“So,” he says, leaning back slightly, “what’s the craziest story you’ve covered recently?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling despite yourself. “Crazy is subjective, but I might have a few that would make you spit out your drink.”

He grins, and for a moment, it feels like no years have passed at all.

—

The conversation between the both of you are going smoothly.

Infact, too smooth.

Like the fact that you crashed out in front of him and possibly humiliate yourself and him a little did not happen.

That you went all out in front of him years ago. That night. The one that was supposed to be your big, humiliating, heart-on-your-sleeve confession.

You almost expect him to bring it up. Maybe a teasing remark, a half-laugh, an eyebrow raise, something subtle. But he doesn’t. Not even a flicker of recognition.

Your chest tightens just a little, a mix of disbelief and nervous amusement. Did he even remember? Or is he just… choosing not to?

You take a slow sip of your drink, letting the liquid steady your racing thoughts.

“Feels like we’re actually having a normal conversation,” you say, trying to mask the strange flutter in your stomach.

A few drinks in and you finally feel it—the subtle, creeping warmth spreading through your chest and limbs, the light buzz at the edges of your thoughts.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you realize just how… relaxed you feel. Not fully drunk, not sloshed, but that gentle, teasing tipsiness that makes your laugh come a little easier and your words just slide out without overthinking them.

You take a slow sip of your drink, letting it wash over you, and notice your fingers brushing the glass a little too often, your hand trembling ever so slightly.

You blink a few times, trying to steady your gaze, and that’s when you notice him watching you. Not in a pointed or intrusive way—just… observant, like he’s quietly taking stock.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, careful.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a hand over your forehead. “Yeah… just… maybe a little tipsy.”

His eyes flicker with something—concern, perhaps, or maybe just mild amusement. “You’re starting to look it. Head’s a little heavy?”

You tilt your head, the movement slow, a little clumsy. “Yeah… maybe. Just feeling… tired, I guess.”

He leans in slightly, not too close, but close enough that you notice. “Want me to get you some water? Or maybe sit down for a bit?”

You shake your head, smiling faintly, a little embarrassed. “No… I’m fine. Just… didn’t realize how much the day caught up with me.”

He nods, accepting your answer, though his gaze lingers a moment longer than necessary, making your chest flutter. “Alright… just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

You glance at him, catching the way his eyes soften when he speaks. “Yeah… I’ll try.”

And just like that, the buzz in your head feels a little warmer, a little more bearable—not just from the drink, but from the quiet care in his tone.

“Why are we acting like it never happened?” you ask, searching for his eyes through your hazy ones.

Literally what is wrong with you?

He blinks, caught off guard by the directness, and for a moment, his carefully composed expression falters. “…We… what?”

“That night,” you insist, tipping your drink slightly, letting the amber liquid catch the light. “Graduation party. Me, completely falling apart, confessing… probably embarrassing both of us. That night. Why are we pretending it didn’t happen?”

He exhales slowly, a small, almost rueful smile tugging at his lips. “I… I don’t know. I guess I just… didn’t think it mattered. Didn’t want to make it more awkward than it already was.”

You squint at him, teasing but still slightly accusatory. “Not awkward? You mean the part where I’m yelling at you, convinced you were rejecting me, and my friends had to pull me away?”

He winces slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay… yeah, fine. That was awkward.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “Awkward? That’s one word for it. Humiliating would be more accurate.”

He chuckles softly, like he can’t help himself. “I didn’t want you to feel like I was judging you. Honestly, I was… surprised. And kind of… baffled.”

“Baffled?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Baffled is the nicest word I’ve ever heard used to describe that disaster.”

He shrugs, grin teasing but gentle. “Hey, you made it memorable.”

You groan, pressing a hand to your face. “Memorable. That’s exactly what I wanted—my nightmare plastered in my memory forever.”

He laughs quietly, and you feel a little of the tension in your chest ease, even as your cheeks burn.

“See?” He mutters, “This is why I can’t act like it didn’t happen.”

He leans back slightly, looking at you with something softer in his gaze. “Alright. It happened. And… honestly? I’m kind of glad you brought it up.”

You blink, caught off guard. “…Glad?”

He nods, grin small but real. “Yeah. Makes this… easier. Us talking now, I mean. We’re past it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the tipsy warmth in your chest suddenly feeling a little lighter. “Past it… sure. I’ll try to believe that.”

And for the first time in years, the memory doesn’t sting quite as much—mostly because it’s not just a memory anymore. You’re here, talking. Laughing. And he’s still looking at you.

You fan your face instinctively, heat creeping up your cheeks. Just talking to him—him—makes your chest flutter and your stomach twist, like it used to back in college.

Or maybe it’s the booze. Probably the booze.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the warmth lingers anyway. Fingers tapping nervously against the rim of your glass, you force a laugh, brushing at your hair like that will hide how flustered you feel.

He notices, of course. His gaze softens, just a little, and it makes your chest clench in a way you’re not ready to admit out loud.

“Too much?” he asks lightly, a teasing edge that makes your ears burn even more.

“N-no,” you stammer, fanning yourself again, probably looking ridiculous. “Just… warm. Hot in here, I mean.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, raising a brow, clearly unconvinced but letting it slide.

You sip your drink quickly, hoping the liquid will do more than cool your throat—that it’ll calm the frantic beat of your heart. But even as you set the glass down, you know the truth: whether it’s college nerves or the booze, just being here with him has you all twisted up again.

And god, it’s thrilling. Terrifying. And completely unavoidable.

Before you can fully protest, you feel his hand brush against yours—and then grasp it firmly.

“Hey,” he says softly, voice low, steady. “Come with me for a sec. Get some air.”

Your heart does a little stutter. “Uh… outside?” you ask, trying to sound casual while your fingers tingle where his hold lingers.

He nods, tugging gently but firmly. “Yeah. Just… a quick breather. Trust me.”

You hesitate for only a fraction of a second before letting him lead you out. The restaurant door swings open, and suddenly the noise—the music, the chatter, the clinking glasses—falls away.

The night air hits you like a wave, cool and sharp against your flushed cheeks. You inhale deeply, letting it settle in your lungs, fingers still lightly entwined with his.

“You… didn’t have to,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

“I know,” he replies quietly, his thumb brushing your hand in a small, unconscious gesture. “But you needed it. I could tell.”

You swallow, feeling your chest tighten. The world feels quieter here, simpler, like the space between you shrinks in a way it never did back in college.

“Thanks…Hee,” you whisper, almost embarrassed by how sincerely you mean it.

He gives a small, easy smile at the nickname, one that somehow makes the tipsy nervousness in your chest melt just a little. “Anytime.”

You realize, as you stand there under the dim glow of the streetlights, that maybe—just maybe—it’s easier to breathe when he’s around.

You start staring at him, and suddenly it all clicks—the reason your crush had lingered all those years.

He’s… stunning. Not just good-looking, but the kind of presence that lingers in your chest like a low hum. His voice drifts to you, soft and deliberate, saying your name like it’s fragile, like you might vanish if he’s too loud.

And his eyes… they’re honest. Sincere. Like when you meet his gaze, he’s not just looking—he’s pulling, gently, hypnotically, drawing you into the orbit of him without any effort at all.

But the part that steals your breath? His aura. Quiet, commanding, just a little dangerous. Back in college, everyone wanted Heeseung. He was the silent one in the friend group, keeping mostly to himself, but that quietness only made him magnetic. Girls would orbit him, laugh at his half-smiles, and before anyone even realized, he’d slip away with them upstairs, private and mysterious.

And now, standing here, just talking, just existing… all of it is clear. The looks, the quiet confidence, the way he moves without needing to draw attention—he’s still the same Heeseung, and somehow, somehow, it’s even more intoxicating than you remembered.

Your chest tightens, your pulse picks up, and you realize… yeah, this crush? It never really faded. Not then, not now.

—

You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away before they spiral any further. With a shaky breath, you let him guide you back inside, reminding yourself to focus on something else—anything else.

But the moment the door swings open, reality hits.

Your friends are already there, dragging both of you toward the dance floor. The crowd presses in like sardines, bodies bumping, brushing, too close for comfort. The bass rattles through your chest, and you can barely see through the mass of people, let alone move without stepping on someone’s toes.

You glance at him, half-expecting him to protest, but he just lets out a small laugh, brushing an invisible piece of stray hair from your face. You force a smile, gripping his hand lightly—half for balance, half because the warmth there is grounding.

Somehow, you’re swept along, the tipsy buzz in your chest mingling with the chaos around you. Every movement, every laugh, every brush of someone else’s arm against yours makes your heart race just a little faster.

And you can’t help but wonder… if he notices how much closer you’re holding on, or if he’s lost in the crowd as well.

As the crowd shuffles and sways, Yunjin suddenly bumps into you from the side, jostling you back. Before you can steady yourself, your back hits him—Heeseung—and instinctively, your body freezes.

Instead of stepping back or letting you go, a warm hand settles on your waist, steadying you. His touch is firm, deliberate, grounding against the chaos of the dance floor.

You feel the press of his front against your back, the faint brush of his chest along yours, and your breath catches in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

He sways slightly with the movement of the crowd, and you realize his hand isn’t just keeping you upright—it’s guiding, moving with you in a rhythm that matches the music, subtle but intimate.

Your pulse hammers, and for a moment, the noise of the dance floor, the heat, the crowd—all of it—blurs away. There’s just the warmth of him behind you, the gentle sway, and the sharp awareness of every accidental contact.

You inhale sharply, fingertips brushing against his hand at your waist, and you know the tipsy heat in your chest just got a lot more dangerous.

The press of his body against yours is subtle at first—just a nudge here, a sway there—but with each accidental brush, the tension coils tighter in your chest.

His hand on your waist doesn’t move, doesn’t falter, just… stays, guiding your body slightly with the rhythm of the music. Every small shift makes you hyper-aware: the warmth of him behind you, the faint scent of his cologne, the way the beat makes your bodies move closer without any real thought.

Your stomach twists, heat pooling lower, and you realize just how intimate this accidental closeness has become. The tipsy warmth in your head mingles dangerously with the awareness of him—his strength, his scent, the way he’s so steady—and suddenly every sway, every brush, feels loaded.

You glance over your shoulder, heart hammering, catching his eyes in the briefest of moments. There’s a faint smirk on his lips, and the look in his gaze is… unreadable, teasing, but undeniably deliberate.

Your fingers twitch at your sides, and you know you’re far too aware of him, far too conscious of the way your bodies are pressing, rubbing, moving together despite the chaos of the crowd.

And just like that, what should have been an innocent brush in a dance floor sardine-fest has started to feel… suggestive. Too suggestive. Too thrilling. And definitely, definitely impossible to ignore.

“Screw all this.” He mutters and brings you out outside again.

He steps closer, and before you can even process what’s happening, his hand gently presses against the wall beside you, trapping you in the small space between him and the brick.

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance up at him, heart hammering painfully in your chest. His eyes search yours for a fraction of a second, soft and steady, before his lips meet yours.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, and warm, melting the last of your tipsy haze into something sharper, more urgent. Your fingers curl at his shoulders, holding on as if letting go would make the world collapse, and every nerve in your body lights up with awareness—his warmth, the press of his chest, the taste of him.

He deepens the kiss just slightly, careful but insistent, and you realize there’s no part of this that’s accidental. Every movement, every touch, every brush of his lips is intentional—and it leaves you dizzy, breathless, and entirely captivated.

For a moment, nothing exists outside of the two of you: the night, the faint hum of distant music, the cool air on your flushed cheeks. There’s only him, only this kiss, only the overwhelming pull you’ve felt for years finally becoming real.

“Heeseung…” you whisper, still catching your breath, pulling back just enough to look at him.

He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze lingers on you, intense, dark, and impossibly magnetic. Then, finally, he reaches for his phone, thumbs moving quickly. “Cab’s coming,” he says, voice low, a rough edge to it that makes your chest tighten. “I can’t drive like this… but I want to get us somewhere… private.”

The words hit you, sharp and urgent, and your stomach flips. You feel his hand brush yours, almost brushing your fingers against the hem of his palm, grounding you even as your pulse races.

He drapes his jacket over your shoulders without a word, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. You shiver—not from the cold, but from the heat of him, the closeness, the way he looks at you like he’s been waiting years for this moment.

The cab arrives, and he gestures for you to step inside first, letting his hand hover near yours in a silent promise of care and anticipation. You slide into the seat, the leather cool against your skin, and he follows, closing the door with a soft click.

The hum of the engine and the blur of city lights outside do nothing to quiet the electricity between you.

You steal a glance at him, heart hammering. His eyes catch yours immediately, dark and serious, and for a second the world shrinks down to just the two of you. Every inch of closeness, every brush of warmth, makes it impossible to think clearly.

And as the cab moves through the night, the air between you thick with unspoken desire, you realize… this is far from over.

Your hands rest on your lap, fingers twitching nervously, when you feel him gently brush against yours. Just a graze at first, teasing, testing—but then he takes your hand in his.

He doesn’t squeeze or hold too tightly, just… plays with your fingers, tracing subtle patterns, sliding your fingers between his, rolling them lightly, letting you feel his warmth without saying a word.

You catch your breath, tipsy warmth twisting into something sharper, something electric. Every touch makes your heart hammer, every movement of his fingers against yours feels deliberate, intimate, like he’s silently marking you as his.

You glance up at him through the dim glow of the cab lights. His eyes meet yours, soft but teasing, watching your reaction like he’s savoring it. And somehow, just the act of his hands on yours, the closeness, the quiet intimacy, makes everything else—the embarrassment, the crowded dance floor, even the alcohol—fade away.

You can’t stop the small shiver running through you. He’s just playing with your hands, and yet it feels like so much more.

—

The moment the front door clicks shut, everything snaps back into focus—too close, too fast, too much.

Before you can even turn properly, his hand finds your wrist, then your waist, and suddenly your back meets the door with a soft thud.

Your breath catches.

And then he’s kissing you again.

Not like before—this time it’s urgent, like he’s been holding himself back the entire ride and finally gave up. His lips crash into yours, warm and insistent, and your fingers instinctively clutch at his shirt, grounding yourself as the world tilts.

The faint scent of him surrounds you, familiar and intoxicating, and the quiet of his place makes everything louder—the sound of your breathing, the soft shift of fabric, the way your heart pounds like it might give you away.

He pulls you closer, one hand still firm at your waist, the other bracing against the door beside your head. There’s no space left between you now, no room to think, only feel.

You melt into it despite yourself, responding, your hands tightening slightly against him as the kiss deepens just enough to make your head spin.

For a split second, he pauses—just enough to catch your breath, his forehead almost brushing yours, his voice low and uneven.

“…We can stop,” he murmurs, even though his grip doesn’t loosen. “If you want.”

But the way he looks at you—like he’s been waiting, like he’s barely holding on—makes your answer feel inevitable.

You shake your head, pulling him even closer. “Please, I want it.”

Heeseung responded eagerly to your confession, his hands roaming over your body, pulling you closer to him. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a heated, passionate dance.

His eyes darkened with a possessive gleam at your words. He picked you up easily, his hands gripping your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom like a prize.

Laying you down on the bed, his body covering yours. He captured your lips in a fierce kiss again, his hands roaming over your body, his touch burning hot. "Are you sure about this, Y/N?" He asked between ragged breaths.

You nodded, looking directly into his eyes before saying: “I trust you.”

Heeseung's expression softened at your words, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and something deeper—something protective. He exhaled sharply before pressing his forehead against yours.

"Then I'll make sure you don't regret it." His voice was rough but tender as he slid a hand under the hem of your shirt, fingertips tracing slow circles on your skin.

As his mouth moved from your lips to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your throat, His hand traced over your waist, his touch leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

"You're so beautiful." He murmured, his voice low and ragged. "Obsessed with you. Always been." He murmurs into your skin.

He took his time exploring your body with gentle, teasing touches, his fingers tracing over the curve of your hips, his lips teasing at sensitive spots that made you shiver.

You let out a small whine when the heat gets to you and you want nothing but your clothes off right now, and he understands just that.

Heeseung's hands moved with slow, deliberate care as he peeled off your clothes. His eyes darkened as more skin was revealed to him—his gaze hungry but worshipful.

"God..." he breathed out, his fingertips ghosting over newly exposed areas like he was memorizing you. "You’re so fucking pretty. I might cum from just looking at you like this..”

—

“You’re with me? You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” You murmur, dazed with the aftershock and alcohol.

Heeseung's expression softened as he scooped you up effortlessly, his arms strong and steady around you. He carried you to the bathroom with surprising gentleness—no teasing now, just quiet focus on making sure you were taken care of.

"Let me," he murmured when he set your feet down by the toilet. His hands hovered near your waist in case you wobbled before turning to wet a cloth under warm water.

"You did so good for me."

The words sounded almost reverential as he wiped you clean with the cloth. He was careful, tender even, his touch feather-light on your sensitive skin as he took his time making sure every remnant of what they'd done was erased.

"You're so damn beautiful," he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“Let’s get back to bed.”

The next morning, a sharp ringing in your head drags you out of sleep—loud, relentless, unforgiving.

You groan, burying your face deeper into the pillow, hoping it’ll stop. It doesn’t.

Your head pounds. Your throat is dry. Your entire body feels heavy, like it’s been weighed down by something you can’t quite name yet.

The alcohol.

Right.

That explains the headache. The dizziness. The way your limbs don’t feel entirely like yours.

But then—

Your eyes snap open.

Memory doesn’t come back all at once. It trickles in. Slow. Dangerous.

The reunion.

The drinks.

The laughter.

Him.

Your stomach drops.

No.

No, no, no—

You push yourself up slightly, wincing as the room spins just a little too much, your heart starting to race for an entirely different reason now.

The dance floor.

His hand on your waist.

Your breath catches.

The cab.

His fingers playing with yours.

His place—

“Oh my god,” you whisper, voice hoarse.

And then it hits you.

The kiss.

The way he thrust up into you.

The way you didn’t stop him.

The way you didn’t want to.

You freeze, every nerve suddenly awake despite the pounding in your head.

Slowly—very, very slowly—you turn your head.

And that’s when it sinks in.

You’re not in your room.

Not your bed.

Not your sheets.

Your grip tightens on the blanket as your eyes scan the unfamiliar space, heart thudding louder with every second.

This is his place.

Which means—

You swallow. Hard.

A soft, hoarse voice from right beside you.

“…You’re awake.”

You freeze.

There he is.

Hair messy, eyes barely open, voice still thick with sleep as he shifts slightly on the bed, one arm tucked under his head. He looks… different like this. Softer. Less composed than last night, but somehow even more real.

Your heart does something dangerous in your chest.

“You’re staring,” he mumbles, a faint, sleepy smile tugging at his lips without even opening his eyes fully.

You immediately look away. “I—no, I wasn’t.”

“…You were,” he murmurs, voice still rough, but there’s amusement in it.

Your face heats up instantly, memories flashing back in fragments that make your stomach flip all over again.

Silence lingers for a moment.

Then—

“You okay?” he asks, quieter this time, a little more awake now.

You hesitate. “…Define okay.”

That gets a soft huff of laughter out of him. He shifts again, turning slightly toward you, propping himself up just enough to look at you properly now.

“Head hurts?”

“…A lot.”

“Yeah,” he nods, like he expected that. “You drank more than you think.”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face. “Please don’t remind me. I’m already regretting my entire existence.”

He watches you for a second—really watches you this time.

And then, softer—

“…Do you regret last night too?”

The question lands heavier than anything else so far.

You go still.

Because suddenly, it’s not just about the headache anymore.

You swallow, forcing yourself to meet his eyes despite the way your chest tightens.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer.

He just looks at you—really looks at you, like he’s been expecting this, like he knew the second you woke up this would be where things go.

“…Yeah,” he says quietly, voice still rough from sleep. “We do.”

The air shifts.

No more teasing. No more distractions. Just the two of you, the morning light creeping in through the curtains, and everything unsaid sitting heavy between you.

You sit up a little, pulling the blanket closer around you, suddenly too aware of everything—your surroundings, him, last night.

“I don’t… fully remember everything,” you admit, glancing away for a second. “I mean—I remember enough. Just… not in order.”

He lets out a small breath, nodding. “Same. Bits and pieces.”

That somehow makes it worse. Or maybe better. You can’t tell.

Your fingers tighten slightly in the blanket. “But I do remember… the important parts.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you. “Yeah?”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

Silence stretches for a second, thick but not uncomfortable—just… honest.

Then you exhale. “Look, I just—” you stop, gathering your thoughts, then try again. “Last night wasn’t just… random for me.”

Something flickers in his expression.

“It wasn’t just the alcohol,” you add quickly, like you need him to understand that part most.

He shifts closer, not touching you yet, but close enough that you feel it. “It wasn’t impulse either.”

Your heart stumbles.

You look at him again, searching his face for any hint of doubt, hesitation—anything that would make this easier to brush off.

Bu there’s none.

Just that same steady look.

“…Then why,” you ask softly, “did it feel like we were pretending nothing ever happened? All those years?”

He exhales, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Because I didn’t know what to do with it.”

You frown slightly. “With… me?”

“With you. With what you said. With how you looked at me that night,” he admits, quieter now. “I wasn’t rejecting you. I just—wasn’t ready. And you were drunk, and everything was happening so fast…”

Your chest tightens. “So I just… misunderstood everything.”

He shakes his head immediately. “No. I didn’t explain anything either. I just stood there like an idiot while you spiraled.”

You huff out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Wow. Love that for us.”

That earns a faint smile from him.

“But I didn’t forget,” he adds, more serious now. “I just thought… you’d moved on. And I didn’t want to come back and make things messy again.”

You stare at him.

“…Too late for that,” you mumble.

He lets out a quiet laugh, eyes softening. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

Another pause.

This one feels different.

Lighter.

You glance down at your hands, then back at him. “…So what now?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reaches out—slow, careful—giving you enough time to pull away if you want to.

You don’t.

His fingers wrap gently around yours, warm and steady, grounding in a way that makes your chest ache a little.

He then sat up, while you follow suit.

“Y/N,” He started.

“Heeseung.” You reply, a small smile on your face.

“I like you. I have been in love with you, since freshmen year. In fact, since orientation.” He started.

“Wait what?”

“You heard me. For me, it’s always has been you. During that party, I went home and got even more wasted, because I felt stupid for letting you go on and on and I just—stand there…like an ass.”

“Lowkey, you were.”

“And I’m regretful.” He took your hands to his lips, pressing a grounding kiss on it.

“It’s been four years though?”

“May I remind you that a certain someone had been avoiding birthday parties, small hangouts? I even thought you won’t be there last night.”

You look at him sheepishly. “I just—that party really ruined it for me, you know?”

“You regret going last night?”

“Never.”

He smiles, before picking you up, and walk to the shower, peppering soft kisses on your face.

“Then I’m keeping you forever and we’re going to spend today and tomorrow onwards making up for the past four years.”

more evan • support my work

a/n: i need to stop writing reunion fics LOL

[lovelee-evan]

this wasn’t in the script ? — heeseung lee oneshot

summary. despite being in a public relationship for 3 years, both of you were private about it. after years of interrogations by fans, media and even your friends, you both decide to go live for a Q&A session, breaking the silence.

pairings. celeb!heeseung x celeb!reader

content / warnings. just tooth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, established relationship, nicknames (baby), they get sentimental, hee is a FLIRT, mentions of the industry and it’s downsides, they’re in love your honor, slightly suggestive in one question but nothing much.

w.c. 1.3k

You adjust the camera with careful hands, trying to ignore the way your heart won’t settle, even after all this time.

The frame shifts slightly before you fix it, exhaling softly as the silence stretches between you and Heeseung.

“We’re really doing this, huh?” you say, half-laughing, half-hoping he’ll say no—but when you turn, he’s already looking at you, steady and certain, like he decided long before you did.

“We said we would,” he replies quietly, voice steady in a way yours isn’t. He took your hand in his, before kissing it. “I’m right beside you, baby.”

You swallow, nodding once, more to yourself than to him, before reaching forward again. Your finger hovers over the screen for a second too long.

Three years of dodging questions.

Three years of silence. Of subtle hints.

And now… this.

“Okay,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, before pressing the button.

The screen flickers.

For a split second, it’s just the two of you—unchanged, unseen.

Then, YOU ARE LIVE! shows up on the screen.

Numbers begin climbing faster than you expected. Comments flood in almost instantly, too quick to read, too loud even in their silence.

“Hi everyone,” Heeseung starts first, his voice calm and grounding, but you could feel the excitement in it.

welovetheace: WOAH THIS NEW

dialtragedy2790: wait i’m scared r they announcing a pregnancy?

You choked on your saliva at that. “What—No! No pregnancy announcement,” You reply with a huff in which he just laughs at.

“We’re here today because…” He looks at you, smiling before turning to the camera again. “…We want to talk about us. Answer questions and reveal things we never did over the past few years.”

“That’s right, I know all of you are dying to know—we went public three years ago, but that’s just it. Just an official statement from our agency and that’s basically it.”

You laugh, “Some of you even accused us of being a PR stunt!” narrowing your eyes at the screen while Heeseung smirks.

“Not so PR stunt if I kiss you right here, no?”

ynlover: oh here mr flirtypants go

heedagoat: she’s stronger than me i would’ve died

hevanly: the way you can tell she’s used to his bs 😭😭

You clear your throat as you change the topic.

“So, I told you guys to ask me some questions about our relationship on Instagram and to say the least, we were entertained by your questions!”

You smile at the screen, your hand ready with your phone full of questions—some picked by you, some Heeseung and of course, filtered by the assistance of your dedicated Manager, Jen.

“Let’s just get into it, then?” He looks at you, gaze loving.

lovestrucked2508: he is looking at her like she’s his whole world… I’m sick.

———

“The first question—What’s something fans were right about—but you never confirmed?” You read, Heeseung hums.

“Oh! That we were already dating during that award show, remember?” He grins at you,

“The one that you wouldn’t stop staring at me?” You scoff, he nonchalantly shrugs.

“In my defense, that dress? With the split? You were killing me, baby.” He holds his heart, as if you are actually assassinating him.

You can already imagine what the comments are like.

“Oh stop it, you were not helping it. Even other celebs were suspecting it that time!” You laugh.

number1ace: WE WERE NOT CRAZY AFTER ALL

You read another question, “Who gets sulky more easily?”

“Heeseung.”

“Y/N.”

You gasp, mock-offense. “You do! I literally have to put up with your little pout every time I say no!” Your finger boop said pout he’s forming right now.

“Well, I can’t help it. That’s just how my lips are. Besides, what type of girlfriend refuses her boyfriend’s cuddles?”

“The type that has schedules to attend, and not stuck in bed with you all day!”

He pouts.

jujuprincess: THAT POUT omg she’s so strong to deny him

“Okay, moving on!” He reads. “How did going public affect your relationship emotionally?”

He thinks of a second, before answering.

“To be completely honest, nothing. Both Y/N and I are aware that once we go public, the lack of privacy, interrogations, people over analyzing our actions and words— are a given,” He turns his attention to me. “I guess, we’re both mentally strong people?” He chuckles.

“Because while yes, the world knows us as each other’s person, but the moments that we kept to ourselves? That’s what ground us as a couple. Because the Y/N off screen is for my eyes only, and that made me feel like…nothing really changes.”

You smile at his sentimental answer, while agreeing with him.

“What’s your ‘normal date’ actually like?” He reads another one.

“It’s our favourite, actually. Locking our doors and spend the whole day sleeping,” I chuckled.

“While hugging each other, of course.” He laughs, “We both have demanding schedules, so when we’re tired and have eachother? Y/N becomes my teddy bear.”

You roll your eyes, faux annoyed. “His grip—God—It’s like he has magnets in him.”

“But I never see you complaining.” He winks at you.

f4taltroubl3: why is she calmer than me and I’m not even in the relationship

The questions continue, some light-hearted and funny, some headliner-worthy you could feel your manager stressing out as she monitors your live from her screen.

“What’s a moment where you felt proud of each other as artist?” You read, and immediately answer.

“Uhm, while I am proud for all the awards he achieved…what makes me even prouder of him is that his tendency to stay commited to his intentions. By his side, you can really see how much hardship he went through.” You continued.

“However, through it all—his mindset never wavered, and that’s so significant in this fabricated and chaotic industry. As a fellow artist, I respect him so much. As a lover, I’m so proud of him.” I held his hand, and smile.

Heeseung’s breath hitches as he stares at you answering.

“That means so much to me, baby.” He says, voice soft enough it passes as a whisper only you hear.

LHS1COMINGSOON: the way u can tell they protected this relationship a lot, oh my heart.

He reads another one: “When was a moment you felt ‘this is my person’?”

He smiles before answering, “Before her, I’m someone who avoids talking to people or in general shut myself out from the world when things get tough, and then get back on track myself. But…when we started dating, I realised instead of wanting solitary, I crave her. In my silence, I search for her. She grounds me even more that past me can do it myself.” He chuckles.

“Loving Y/N is so easy. You just can’t not fall in love with her.” He kisses your hand again, and you feel your face heating up, as well as the lump in your throat forming.

“Tch, what a sap.” You smile, blinking quickly to avoid tearing up.

He just grin at that.

beliftlabdestroyer: The way they talk about each other is so gentle

heeseung4life: No wonder he fell for her

“Who is more affectionate in private?” You scoff, “I fear this is obvious, you guys.”

Heeseung looks at you, before smirking.

“Oh really now?” His hand creeping up your inner thigh.

“Yup.”

“But the last time I checked, it wasn’t me who was on their knees last n—”

“Okay—! Next question.” You glare at him, “Have you talked about your future seriously?”

Heeseung hums, “Future…” He shrugs. “Both of us really hold onto the concept of Carpe Diem, but…” He tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m so sure we’re each other’s future too. Maybe a family of our own?” He smiles.

You grin, “Well—that’s a given. But, too early to talk about that.”

gojosatoruineedthatdih: wait lowkey imagined a kid with both of their genes….we’re not ready

After the last question fades and the comments slow just enough to breathe, you glance at Heeseung, unsure who’s supposed to end it. For a moment, neither of you speaks—until he quietly thanks the viewers, his voice softer than it’s been the entire time.

“Thank you for supporting us,” you add, voice steadier than you expected.

You reach for the screen to end the live—

—but he stops you. Just for a second.

Not dramatic. Not obvious.

Just enough to gently intertwine his fingers with yours and kiss your temple.

“Now you can end it,” he murmurs.

And of course—

the camera catches everything.

[heev4n]

let’s be mutuals!

omg i'd love to!

[liliwolfstar]

miss me when i'm gone!

mdni. 1.9k words.

summary — in which, to his dismay, you ignore your boyfriend for a week straight. how could you!

content n warnings — bf!heeseung x fem! reader. yearninggg. naaasty making out. dom!hee + sub!reader. fingering. handjobs. blowjobs. unprotected p in v (wrap it up!!). squirting. creampie. mean!dom hee if you squint? but lowkey u don’t even have to squint.

8 Days. 8 Whole days since he’s last spoken to you. Heeseung feels as though he might just die. He’s in complete and utter agony without you. Yet, here you were, having the time of your life in Miami. The situation would have been funny under literally any other circumstance, but right now, he’s not in the state of mind to find anything comedic.

How did the two of you end up in this situation, you may ask? Well, it all started when a certain someone hadn’t met a certain compromise.

You’d originally agreed to go on a girls trip, you and 3 other friends on a week-long getaway. In theory, it sounded amazing. The only issue was the “no boyfriends” rule. Now, it wasn’t that you were overly clingy or obsessive. No, never that. Any sane person would miss their boyfriend after a week of being apart!

This is when said compromise came into play. You and Heeseung had agreed to spend as much time together before you had to leave. However, that all went to the dump when he also agreed to spend the rest of the week in the studio. But, in his “defense”, he invited you!

Naturally, you tagged along, trying to make the best of it. But as the week dragged on, your patience wore thin.

It was on the last day that you finally snapped, silently calling an uber and leaving without a word. To say he was dumbfounded was an understatement.

He came home to you packing your luggage, mid squeezing your skincare products into smaller, travel-sized containers and tossing them into your toiletry bag.

“Baby? Do you want any help?” he asked curiously, to which you just walked past him. You were acting as if he wasn’t even there.

“I’m sleeping over at my friends house. We’re going to the airport together in the morning.” you finally said, zipping up your suitcase and grabbing your backpack. You’re quick to gather the last of your things and exit your shared apartment, leaving him standing there in shock.

And so it goes... the start to his week in hell. He starts off annoyed, finding your avoidant antics a bit childish.

It’s at the 4 day mark that his annoyance simmers into worry. He’s worried sick. You’re in another country and you won’t answer your phone? No yeah, he’s practically spiraling, and he makes that apparent to you. 45 missed calls and god knows how many texts in just an hour.

It’s not until day 5, when you post on your instagram that he realizes everything is just fine.

He instantly clicks on the notification, anxiously tapping his foot as his phone loads. Suddenly, he’s faced with several photos of you having, what seems to be, the time of your life. Photos of you partying, drinking, dancing, swimming, you name it. Not to mention the occasional photos of your pretty face that he wishes you would have sent him first.

It’s when he reaches the second-to-last picture that his heart drops.

To anyone else's endless scrolling, it’d seem like a regular fit check. But the more he analyzes it, the more he notices. The way your tits are practically spilling out your shirt, the way your ass hangs out of your mini-skirt. And if they really looked close enough, anyone could notice the peeking pink lace of your panties. A very petty move on your part, if I may add.

He honestly thinks a photo of you in a string bikini would’ve been better. But he’s not mad, of course not. He could never be mad at you. So why are you still mad at him? And more importantly, why are you torturing him like this?

He manages to survive two more days of agony until you arrive. He’d promised to pick you up from your friend’s place. So, you have to talk to him, he thinks.

Wrong! Your silence doesn’t even resume in the car. You’re too stubborn for that.

The minute he sends a sweet text, a simple “hi baby i hope u had fun. can u send me the address? :)” all you reply with is a pinged address. Not even bothering to greet him back!

Next, he’s pulling up and getting out the car to greet you. Instead, he’s greeted by the sight of your suitcase on the sidewalk while you’re already hopping into the passenger seat. He groans internally, popping the heavy baggage into his trunk and sulking his way back into the car.

You’re focused on the view outside, resting your head against the window as you both drive in silence, when his hand slides over your lap and onto your thigh. You glance down for a split second before rolling your eyes and returning your gaze to the road outside.

He’s insistent, though. Rubbing and kneading at your plush skin the rest of the way home. You try to stay distant but you can’t help the way your thighs clench a few times.

It’s when you both get home that he realizes something. It’s his turn to stay quiet, in order to get what he wants. So, that’s what he does.

Everything he does from now on is calculated. Bringing your stuff down, opening the door for you, letting you walk into the apartment first. He even goes out of his way to put your luggage away and make you something to eat.

With each act of service, you loosen up. The time and distance between the both of you slowly starting to catch up.

You’re sat at the counter, thoroughly enjoying the ramyeon he made you, when he heads to the living area. You watch with wide eyes as he sits, spreading his legs and adjusting his hips. And if that wasn’t enough to get you going, he leans his head back against the couch with a small groan. Your eyes zero-in on the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat and every ounce of self-restraint drains from your body. He knows exactly how to turn you to putty in his hands.

Having had enough, you near stomp over to the living room, stopping in front of him.

He looks up at you with a puzzled expression before raising an eyebrow. "Yes?" he asks casually. Wayyy too casually.

You feel your eye twitch at his audacity but shake your head nonetheless. And to make matters worse, he decides to ask “Was the food okay?”

“It was good, thank you” you answer, taking a seat beside him. He nods and turns his attention back to his phone. A good two minutes of him scrolling passes before you decide to stoop back down to his level.

You move to lay down, opting to rest your head on his thigh, dangerously close to the growing tent in his sweats. He lets out a shaky breath and drops his phone beside him to be able to rake his fingers through your hair.

It should be ridiculous, how you go out of your way to make exaggerated hums and mewls of satisfaction. Instead, it just sends blood rushing to his cock. Oh how he’s missed the sounds you make for him.

“Fuck,” he breathes in frustration. “Do you know what it’s been like without you? Not being able to see you? To touch you?”

It’s so sudden, the way his hand tightens in your hair and pulls you up. A pained gasp falls from your lips that he’s quick to swallow, his lips crashing yours. He laps at your mouth, sucking at your tongue and biting your bottom lip.

God, it’s filthy. Saliva, from both your mouths, leaking down your chin and onto your shirt. You’re struggling to catch your breath when he pulls back, collecting a glob of spit on his fingers and shoving them into your mouth.

Your whines of protest are quickly shut down when he uses his free hand to squish your cheeks, giving him more leverage over your face. Or more specifically, your mouth. His fingers push down and back on your tongue, forcing a choked gag out of you.

You whimper as he drags his fingers out your mouth and you can feel him throbbing beneath you. He must be aching after so long, you think. Poor thing. With a gentle hand, you toy with the waistband of his grey sweats. Your nails graze his lower tummy a few times, making him shiver and twitch under you.

“Baby, f—fuck, please stop teasing” he rasps, looking down at you with those perfect, pleading doe eyes. And you comply. How could you not? Especially when he looks at you like that.

He lifts his hips as you lower his pants, just enough to pull him out. You give him a few, experimental pumps but his cock is so wet and sticky with pre that you’re struggling to get a good grasp on him. You tighten your hold—making a tight, makeshift hole for him to fuck.

Your hand feels like heaven to him. His head is tossed back as strings of loud whines and groans leave his pretty lips. You watch in awe for a second; offering the tip a sticky kiss and smearing his arousal over your lips before taking him in your mouth.

Now, he’s fucking into your mouth, making you gag every time he hits the back of your throat. Your mouth is just so wet and warm that he can’t help it. He’s missed this, missed you.

The sounds he’s making above you have your mind reeling. And before you know it, you’re moving a hand down to play with your achey clit.

“That’s it, s—shit. Play with your pretty pussy just like that.” he urges, twitching in your mouth. You continue to rub tight circles on the sensitive bud, moaning around him and sending vibrations around his length. The feeling leaves him spilling in your mouth with a hand tangled in your hair and a drawn out moan.

You feel your own heat pool in your tummy, the band of your orgasm pulling taut before he pushes you onto your back. Gently, of course!

“Sorry, baby. Need to be inside you,” he huffs, hiking your leg up and lining himself up with your needy cunt. He’s lost all composure, fucking into you with lust-driven thrusts. This must be what it means to be pussy drunk.

He thumbs at your clit, opening you up further to reach deeper. You swear you feel him in your stomach as you’re reduced to a writhing, moaning mess beneath him.

“Hee—! S’too much!” you whine, clawing at his back. He dismisses your concern, licking and nipping at your neck in a way that’s sure to leave marks. Your orgasm washes over you before you can even process. His cock drilling against your cervix leaves you breathless and gushing around him. That’s all it takes for him to finish inside you. It’s not often that you squirt, after all.

The slick squelches and plaps of your mixed arousal should make you cringe. But you’re so drunk off his cock, you can’t bring yourself to think of anything else. And Heeseung? He’s not any better. He’s already came twice. Yet, he’s still fucking into you like there’s no tomorrow. It’s then that you realize you’re in for a looong night.

genuinely just cooked up some bullshit. ALSO, i’m not a big fan of the full-sized text but this one’s pretty long & i didn’t want anyone to be straining their pretty eyes 🙂‍↕️

[lovelee-evan]

sooo…how’s the writing coming up? no pressure!! just missed your writing 🥹 - 🪼anon

soo….hey… 😶 i am so so so so so sorry however i’ve been dealing w a lot of things as of late so i haven’t got the time to finish up the remainings of the fic i’ve been cooking :\ BUT!!!! i’m slowly settling everything and have been trying to lock in fr now !! it’ll come 🤍

[lovelee-evan]

𝒉𝒆𝒗𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 (𝒅𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒆 ! ) — masterlist

⋆˚࿔ introduction: a never ending series of drabbles of your time spent with heeseung! this includes your relationship phases from just a few months before dating until married life!

call it what you want (before dating): talk no snitching

my baby’s all mine (dating): birthday menstrual and him

a ring that tied me to you (engaged): your lips

today and everyday (married): photobooth surprise

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ perm taglist!

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[soulenha]

Tongue technology ✴︎ 이희승

𑣲⋆ Lee Heeseung ❤︎ Fem!reader ✴︎ smut jealousy reader is mad at heeseung heeseung worships reader

💭 𓂃 𓈒𓏸  1613   ⋆˚࿔   ꒰  smut  ꒱   💌 | Heeseung | Jay | Jake | Sunghoon | Sunoo | Jungwon | Riki |

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍 ✴︎ You and Heeseung went to a dinner party but you got jealous of the other couples and mad at Heeseung because he didn't show you off like how other husbands did. So in forgiveness, he ate you out in the car.

Warning : 𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒙𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 : oral[f rec] oversensitivity car sex semi-public sex dirty talk multiple orgasms squirting edging fingering

🪷°      Haze' notes : I felt so bad for not writing for my hee for a very long time so here is a juicy smut!! Hope you enjoy!! [Not proofread]

“How long are you going to stay mad for?” You just look away from your husband, ignoring his attempts to talk to you. “At least look at me, beautiful..” 

He had messed up at the dinner table today with his friends. While everyone complimented their wives, having their hands all over their partner and stealing little kisses, Heeseung did none of that for you. 

To say the least, you were mad.. Jealous even. Could he not have complimented you just once at the table? Maybe show you off a little and say how proud he is of you like the other husbands did? 

Could he not have at least kissed you lovingly or laughed with you at the table? 

He suddenly pulled over on the deserted road, turning the car off. You frown and turn to him only to see his eyes have now darkened and his jaw clenched. “Beautiful, will you only calm down after seeing me on my knees?” He unbuckled his seatbelt and helped you with yours, not touching you if you didn’t want to be touched. 

You like him like this, frustrated and irritated. The way his jaw clenches always had you dripping down your thighs, no matter the place. He pulled you out and helped you get into the backseat, pushing the passenger and the driving seat forward to make some space so he could kneel right between your thighs.

“I know you are mad about me not complimenting you like how the other guys did.. I’m sorry, baby..” He started, not daring to move his eyes any lower than yours even though your soaking heat was right in front of his face. You stare down at him with butterflies in your stomach, your heart racing. 

“What will it take for you to forgive me, beautiful?” His hands came up to your thigh, squeezing your soft flesh gently. Your breath bitched as you see the lust and control in his eyes. You needed him so badly but you were still mad. Your scent driving him crazy, he pressed his hands higher, reaching the hem of your dress. 

“Would you like me please you, darling? Make you come a river on my tongue?” He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew the exact effect he had on you, kneeling in front of you, worshipping you, he knew you loved it and he loved doing it. When he got no reply from you, he smirked, leaning to press gentle kisses on the curve of your legs, feeling you tense under him. 

Your eyes turn hazy with need, as you stare at him worshiping you like a goddess. “Hee..” He froze for a second, trying to believe that you actually spoke after not speaking for 3 hours. “Yes, beautiful? Tell me what you need..” His kisses left a trail of fire as he climbed up your inner thighs, his hands gently lifting your dress till they bunch around your stomach, leaving you completely soaked and right in front of his face. 

“Fuck, you are soaked baby.. Is this all for me?” He didn’t touch you, didn’t even look at your core but the scent of your arousal told him everything you needed to know. “I hate you.. Asshole.” He simply chuckled and shook his head, kissing right on the line of your laced panty but not where you needed it the most. 

“This asshole will make you go to heaven, beautiful.. Just say the words.” Goosebumps spread all over your body as you squirm under his kisses, trying to get him when you wanted him the most. “Hee, I swear—” A moan broke through your lips when he simply pressed his nose against your clothed clit, taking in your scent.

“Mine.. all of me and no one else.” 

You throw your head back, the anger melting away from your body. You needed him and you needed him now. Your hands shoot up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer to your heat, silently begging him to just tear the fabric and eat you out. 

“Ah-ah, so impatient.. Tell me what you want, love.” Your cheeks heat up from embarrassment and arousal. He really wanted to hear it from you, huh? “I need your mouth, hee—please!” 

That’s all he needed to pull back and rip your lace fabric before he grabbed your thighs and dove in like a thirsty beast. No soft foreplay, just plain need. Your free hand flies to your mouth to muffle the intense screen that erupted your throat, gasping as he sucks and bites at your sensitive flesh. 

“Hee—omg! ah—ah—Fuck!” The obscure sounds of slurping and both of your moans combined just made you wetter. “So delicious, beautiful.” He suddenly darted his tongue out and shoved it inside you, eating you out from the inside.

You scream as your hips jerk on his face. Your eyes shut with your head thrown back against the leather seat. You didn't care about how loud you were being, your mind turned into a mush. 

His fingers held you down on the seat as you tried to squirm away, your thighs shivering harshly around his shoulder.

“Hee—‘m coming!” You warn him, your hips twitching at the sensitivity but his arms held you down, throwing your thighs around his shoulders so there was no space between you and him. 

“Come for me, baby.” He groaned, abusing your clit and your hole. “Let go, beautiful.” On his command, your entire body tensed, your thighs shivering harshly as your first orgasm washed over you. A loud moan which you muffled echoed the car, feeling Heeseung groan in your pussy, he drank your juices up and cleaned you up with his tongue. 

He softened down and helped you ride your high, sucking gently as you twitch violently, getting too oversensitive. “Hee! No-–fuck,” You push his head back, making him chuckle. 

“Not yet, love. I'm not done with you.” He just dove right back in without mercy, sucking and biting at your already sensitive clit which shot electricity up your body. You scream as you muffle your mouth with your own palm, your fingers tightening on his hair.

It was too much for your body to bear as your thighs squeezed his head, trying to close but he just moaned at the pleasure and pulled your thighs apart swiftly, sucking you dry from the inside. 

Just when you thought you were about to come again, he pulled back, staring at you with a smirk. Your eyes fly open and stare down at him in shock of being denied. “Hee—what—” 

“You don't get to come until I command you, baby.” 

He dove right back in before you could even process what he ordered. Your eyes flutter shut but his intense stare on you from below forced them open as you maintain eye contact while getting tongue fucked by your husband. 

He took his right hand off your waist and brought them down, focusing his tongue on your clit as he shoved two fingers inside you, forcing you open harshly. You yelp in pain and throw your head back, his fingers working overtime to loosen you. 

You felt him groan in your pussy as your gummy walls clench around his digits harshly, trying to suck more in even though it couldn't take it. 

“Bad girl.. look at you.” He smirked and continued to piston his fingers in your cunt while you were going crazy on the seat, a tight knot building in your stomach again. Heeseung immediately understood but this time didn't stop. Wanting to be merciful because at the end of the day, you had to forgive him.

“Fuck, i feel you clenching around me, baby. Fuc—keep doing it—” He gasped and forced a third finger in, earning a loud scream of his name from your sweet lips. “Come for me, honey.” 

Your body reacted before your mind did, squirting all over his face as you yelp and moan in your palm, your eyes rolling to the back of your mind at the intensity of your orgasm. He did take you to heaven. Heeseung lapped up everything like a thirsty dog and finally stood up after making you explode on his tongue. 

“No more—hee! stop—ugh!” You try to finally push his head back because you knew he wouldn't get back on his own, too drunk on your pussy. 

“Alright, alright, darling..” He chuckled from below, looking up at you before wiping his mouth with the back of his palm. You looked down to see him looking up at you with love in his eyes. Pure love and adoration. “Don't look at me like that.. I look like a mess.” You groan and cover your face, wiping your face gently to make sure your mascara doesn't smudge. 

“My mess.. You look very pretty, baby.” He gently took your legs off his shoulder and awkwardly got up in the car, carefully sitting in the seat so he wouldn't bump his head on the roof of the car. You weakly fix your dress, feeling your orgasm leak onto the leather seat. 

“You made a mess, sweetie.. I'll have to get this car deep cleaned.” You just smack his head weakly as he pulled you on his lap, caressing your waist while you place your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Has my beautiful wife forgiven me now?” 

“...” 

“Baby?” 

Heeseung looked down at you to see you already passed out on his shoulders. Smiling gently, he simply placed his head on yours and closed his eyes, letting you sleep for a while on his lap before he drives the both of you back home. 

Oh, how he loves you.

🏷️ Gen taglist : @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @en-injang @h-eva-n @rikisdiheater @heelvcr @heeddungi @boundlesselixirflux @kristynaaah @mybeloveddiary @daydreamer231 @en-muse @wonderikii @firstclassjaylee @rikisblog @nikisleftside @ttamna [16/50]   ,   Join?

©Soulenha 2026 | All rights reserved.

[purrtoru]

satoru loves listening to you, especially when your lips are against his. . .

the room is quiet enough that every little sound feels louder than it should— the soft rustle of blankets, and the tiny laugh that escapes you when satoru steals another kiss before you even finish your sentence.

“you know,” you mumble against his lips. “you should really listen to me right now.”

“i’m listening,” he replies, barely pulling away. his lips brush yours with every word. “you said i’m handsome.”

“i definitely didn’t.”

“no? must’ve imagined it.”

you roll your eyes, though he can’t really see it from how close you are. your noses bump together, and he smiles before giving you another slow, lazy kiss.

“you interrupted me again,” you say.

“m’sorry.. keep talking, sweetheart.”

another kiss.

“i’m trying to tell you,” you whisper, your lips still resting against his. “that we need groceries.”

“we’ll figure something out,” he hums thoughtfully, his breath warm against your face.

“i doubt it, you big back.”

“you’re so mean to me.”

you laugh, the sound breaking into another kiss because satoru seems physically incapable of letting more than a few seconds pass without stealing one.

“kissing me until i forget what i was saying?”

“…is it working?” he muses.

you pause. “…maybe.”

“i know you‘re enjoying yourself,” he says softly, brushing his lips over yours again. “you haven‘t pulled away yet.”

“seems like i’ve made questionable life choices.”

he gasps dramatically, though his smile gives him away.

“oh? dating me is questionable?”

“sometimes.”

another kiss.

“when you leave your socks everywhere.”

mwah.

“when you eat all my snacks.”

mwah.

“when you—”

he kisses you longer that time, lingering just enough that you forget where your complaint is going.

“…see?” he murmurs.

“you are so annoying.”

“but?”

“but…” you smile. “you’re very cute.”

his grin is immediate, and he kisses the corner of your mouth

“what do you want for dinner?” you ask.

“hmm…” he pretends to think hard, his forehead resting against yours. “you.”

“oh my god,” you groan. “you’ve been waiting to say that, haven’t you?”

“maybe.” he grins into the next kiss.

“you should be embarrassed.”

“can’t hear your mean remarks when you’re this close.”

your lips meet in soft, absent-minded kisses between tiny conversations about nothing at all. whether the laundry is finished, whether the weather looks nice tomorrow, or how his teaching is going.

“toru—” kiss. “—how am I supposed to—” another kiss. “—focus?”

“why’d you need to?” his smile softens into something quieter, gentler than his usual teasing grin.

“…we still need groceries.”

“tomorrow,” he insists.

“tomorrow,” you give in.

[lovelee-evan]

it feels like u can say anything to heeseung

when you smile, heeseung smile.

he loves it when you do. it’s as if his gloomy life brightened everytime your lips curved into a fond smile he always loved.

so it really wounds him to see you, alone in the library at 9 a.m. with furrowed eyebrows and a tiny frown.

your coffee still untouched, hands busy working on the keyboard, mouth muttering soft curse words.

he walks up and sat across from you. “good…morning?”

“bad.”

“yikes, what happened?”

you hands stopped, as you look at him. he tilts his head, a silent: what’s up? wanna spill?

sighing in defeat, you tap on the seat next to you. “come here and see.”

he immediately moves, and see that you’re working on your presentation slides for a phonetics lecture.

“see!”

“what am i seeing?”

“the slides.” you deadpanned, but he’s still not getting it. it looks perfectly fine in his eyes.

but he forgot you’re slightly sensitive with stuffs like designing, formatting. your eyes can immediately detect when something’s off.

“it’s wack.”

“excuse me?”

“my stupid teammate, urgh—can you imagine? i woke up to a completely different set of slides!” you grip your hair, shaking it with frustration.

heeseung softly took your hands to stop you, “don’t hurt yourself, tell me more?”

you look at him with a huff, “it’s…they changed the whole layout i set for the presentation, copy and paste shit and some of the points are gone—and used all these…stupid emoji stickers—it’s freaking distracting!”

heeseung frowns, that’s actually a valid reason to get angry—you’re presenting in a few hours.

“let me help,”

he slowly took the laptop from you and helped edit the slides to a slightly more minimalistic—not distracting—visual aid.

while he did that, you took a breather and drank your coffee.

“i checked it from my phone this morning waking up, but after seeing that monstrosity i immediately got ready and came here.” you complained, which he replied with soft hums signing that he’s listening, but he’s also focusing with the edits.

a few minutes later, he finished it. sliding the laptop back to you for touch ups and proofreading.

“i’m sorry,” you sigh, “i just hate it when people care more about their aesthetic slides, with elements and fun rather than academically, i just can already predict us getting marks off due to slides being too distracting.”

he smiles and pat your back, “hey it’s alright. you wanted the team to not mess up.”

“but it sounds like i’m bossy.”

“you kinda are.”

“say sorry.”

“see?”

you huff again and his grin widens.

“i’m joking, you’re just a perfectionist. a perfect perfectionist who cares too much about silly little things like formatting the paragraph to justified.”

“silly things that can lower my assessment score yeah.”

heeseung laughs, earning silent glares from others in the library.

“…i hate my teammates. can i tell you a secret?”

he hums, asking you to continue.

“if i can do it alone, i already would.”

he smiles, before turning to take something out from his bag.

two sandwiches. “i bet you stressed yourself so much you get one coffee and barely any breakfast.”

“don’t snitch on my team.”

“wouldn’t dare to. i’m always on your side, remember?”

@only4mylove @xionvlog @heymaaaartin @in-somnias-world @freshtaledonut @nobodyaskedeu @coconutx-o @kristynaaah @skzenhalove @fataltrebles @lvlyhiraii @kjunebuggie @miamoari @meowieshibal @m11nqq @vanishdesires @starboyhee @ori2ari @melancholatte @xoheedeung @sugarcwtie @irisseungz @reysblr @isagistar @inadazeee @slut4heespam @seonghyeonsback

more hevvanly diaries?

[lovelee-evan]

heeseung does everything but talk to you.

his friends knew it first from his lingering gaze when you walked past him in between lectures, how he kept asking if they knew a certain girl from the english major.

they were confused, to say the least.

heeseung never asks about girls. they come to him naturally during parties, hangouts.

“what do you mean do i have the her schedule, heeseung?” beomgyu deadpanned, looking up from his phone.

“you know everything about everyone.”

“humans usually go for instagram handles or phone numbers first, weirdo.”

“yeah, that too. so? do you have?”

beomgyu sighs, looking at jeongin beside him. “ask this guy. he would totally have weird girls like yours in his contacts.”

jeongin frowns, “what weird girls, also, no i don’t.”

“well all of you are useless!” heeseung groans. “and my yn is not weird, she’s just—different, good different.”

but fortunately for him, your paths crossed almost every day. if not, 4 times a week and that’s a win in heeseung’s book.

“maybe if you actually go to her and ask for her number instead of following her like a creep since the start of the semester, you might get her.” his younger friend, jay (business major) clicks his tongue.

“i’m not following her like a creep,”

“you’re in a library.”

“so?”

“you’re a music major.”

heeseung groans. “so what? i still have my electives to study for!”

oh he’s lying straight to his face by now.

jay chuckles, “is it that hard to talk to her?”

“it’s not…hard.”

“then?”

“it’s…unbearable. my heart can’t take it.”

jay stood up, gathering his books and stuffs. “well, that’s on you, my guy. don’t cry when someone already made a move on her because you’re slow.”

heeseung is grateful that your friends are party goers. even if you don’t.

“hi, yunjin! hi, minjeong!” heeseung walks up to them, trying so hard to sound casual.

the two girls turn to him, raising their eyebrows.

“is it about yn?” yunjin asks.

“what? no no! haha! just wanna know—how you both gorgeous ladies doing tonight?” he winks, but neither of said gorgeous girls bought it.

“we won’t give you her number.”

“but why???” he asks, frowning.

“because you’re an idiot, and spineless!” minjeong laughs. “we’re with her almost everyday, don’t you think we could see a random music major around us, if not in front of our faces?”

“i wasn’t that noticable.”

“jokes on you, heeseung. girls go heart eyes over you.”

“yeah, but not the girl i want!” he whines.

“well you have to earn it. who do you think you are?” yunjin snarls.

“earn..how?”

“are you actually braindead?”

so the talking-to-yn-and-get-her-number operation begins—at last.

his friends thought it was ridiculous when it was first brought up by him.

it really took him this long to realise what he needed to do.

“just come up to her when she’s studying at the library.” jay suggests which heeseung immediately shoots down.

“what if she wants to focus?”

“then go to her table when she’s eating.” beomgyu reply.

“she might lose her appetite, girls are sensitive to that you know?”

“how did you—okay. just come up to her when you see her.”

“what if she was in a bad mood—”

that day results with no concrete plan made, and multiple curses thrown at him.

heeseung felt like the world is ending.

he felt like there’s no way for him to smoothly, casually sneak into your life.

“fuck my life.”

“why?” he heard a small voice ask beside him.

it’s you.

lovely, sweet, you.

right, you both share the same bus ride home.

“oh hi yn.” he smiles.

“hi heeseung, why is your life fucked?”

“because i can’t talk to the love of my life.” he sigh.

you look at him, before looking down at your hands biting a smile, “that must’ve sucked.”

he groans. you, the love of his life, even if you didn’t know it yet telling how it must’ve sucked that he couldn’t talk to you.

how ironic.

“yeah,” he looks at you, before his eyes light up, as if an actual bulb lights up in his mind.

“you have…suggestions?” he asked, “you’re quite close with this girl.”

you stifle a small laugh, “really?”

he nods. confident.

“well, did your friends help you?”

he sighs, head slumping down. “they did, but i kept overthinking it and i know it won’t work.”

you hum at that, looking at him again.

“what do you want from the girl?”

“her number. her heart. her life. no, actually, she can have my life. my everything.”

the bus arrives, and the both of you stand up.

“i’ll think of one way before my stop. sit with me.” you smile.

his heart stutters at your beautiful smile. it’s like you’re trying to kill him. the worst thing is that he wouldn’t even complain.

the whole ride was slightly awkward but sheepish.

“oh, right.” you reached for your bag, taking out an umbrella.

“this is for the other day, thanks.”

he accepts it, murmuring a soft “you should’ve kept it.”

“and also, thank you for the bus fare cover a week ago, and the little energy drink last month? beomgyu told me you gave it.” you went on.

“was the cookies at my desk during lectures your work too?”

fuck.

fuck fuck fuck.

“look, i wasn’t following you like a creep—”

“i wanted to say thanks.” you grin, “i want to repay you, can i have your number?”

heeseung freezes. like actually stone cold.

“what?”

“your number, heeseung.”

heeseung felt like the biggest loser alive. he got your number, but at what cost?

his whole “earning it like a boss” operation failed right in front of you.

“h-here.” he took your phone to put his number.

“thanks! oh that’s me.” you sigh when the bus reached your stop.

you stand up, a little unstable due to the still-moving vehicle.

he quickly balanced you with his hands hovering around you, not yet touching—respecting your boundaries.

“thanks.” you smile, before realizing. “shit, i didn’t tell you my suggestion!”

“i’ll text you!” you add, which he nods.

waving goodbyes, you stepped off the bus and walked away.

heeseung leaned back, feeling slightly giddy from your interaction today with a mix of disappointment because he’s a perfectionist.

“that could’ve been better.” he huffs.

his train of thought was interrupted by a small ping from his notifications.

011-unknown: hi heeseung, it’s yn 💗

011-unknown: my suggestion, maybe quit doing all these cute things and talk to me for once?

011-unknown: i really liked talking to you.

@only4mylove @xionvlog @heymaaaartin @in-somnias-world @freshtaledonut @nobodyaskedeu @coconutx-o @kristynaaah @skzenhalove @fataltrebles @lvlyhiraii @kjunebuggie @miamoari @meowieshibal @m11nqq @vanishdesires @starboyhee @ori2ari @melancholatte @xoheedeung @sugarcwtie

more hevvanly diaries?

[lovelee-evan]

hello! i'm currently making a fool of myself by asking random people on my dashboard to be mutuals 😣 i'm new here and i plan on posting fanfictions soon, but i'd love to make some friends beforehand 🥹 would you like to be mutuals?

oh my gosh! of course!!!! let’s be friendsss!!! i’m so excited for your fics to come 💗

[liliwolfstar]

mdni. cumming habits w hee!

where heeseung has to hold your hand whenever he’s gonna cum. it’s non-negotiable!! the feeling is just so overwhelming and he needs you to keep him grounded. and don’t even get him started on cumming inside you.

he finds himself subconsciously holding his breath, eyes screwed shut, and hands clenching onto the sheets beside your head. you notice and tap his wrist, signaling him to loosen up. interlocking hands, you remind him to breathe and let himself feel.

he’s already got you in missionary but he needs you closer. he can’t help it, the way you’re being so gentle and loving with him has him so so turned on :( this is all he’s ever wanted and he wants to give you everything, make you feel everything.

your grip on his hand tightens when he leans down, pushing some hair out of your face and kissing you sweetly. at least, this is what he considers sweet in his fucked out state. the kiss is wet and sloppy as he helplessly laps at your mouth, leaving you struggling to keep up.

his desperation grows, hiking your leg up and doubling down on his thrusts, plunging into you. he’s so deep but he’s whining that it’s “s’not enough” :( you’re not sure how to help such a lost cause, so you just lay there, letting him use you while you praise him.

“oh fuck, gonna cum..” he groans, squeezing your hand and pressing his forehead to yours. his face slips to squish his cheek up against the side of your face with a whine. “please say you’re close, too. can’t hold it”

you nod and squeeze his hand thrice in response, a silent ‘i love you’ that causes his hips to stutter as he spills inside you. your orgasm follows not long after, coating him in your sticky arousal. he’s practically spent as he continues to ride out his high, filling you up with ropes of his cum ^_^

can u tell i love his lil macbook photoshoot? ugh he’s too cute

[prettygirlsnevertell]

his main attraction ⚰︎ l. heeseung

𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗨𝗘 𝗡𝗢. 𝟬𝟬𝟭 이희승 he can't handle the way you look in the crowd, so he takes you backstage. ⓘ smut: dom!heeseung ⋆ possessive-hee ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ choking ⋆ degradation ⋆ lee heeseung x fan!reader ⋆ 1.3k

♥︎ now playing: 13aurora - again ♥︎ articles: read more ♥︎ editor's note: this is my first time writing for any idol and this is a side blog so requests are appreciated. i know heeseung had recently departed, but i joined this fandom late so i'll write about them before the departure and after.

꒰১ ───────── ───────── ໒꒱

Sweat beat down your forehead as bodies pressed against bodies. It was hot, but not hot enough to make you want to leave. Even if you did, there was no way you could find your way out in the crowd behind you.

The stage was so close, if you reached out, you could probably touch your fingertips to it. You ran a hand through your hair and threw your head back, taking the very small moment between songs to swallow whatever was left in your water bottle.

Heesung’s gaze met yours for the briefest second. You wiped your mouth and turned away, face burning. He was a flirt, you knew that. He flirted with lots of fans—even knowing this, that look still sent shivers throughout your body.

Your thighs pressed together, and for the rest of the night , you tried to avoid watching him. It had just been a weird coincidence. You had just been in the right place at the right time. So—then why did it feel like his eyes were boring into the side of your head every other minute? And just now—he couldn’t be could—

Oh crap!

He was looking. Another coincidence?

You’d been standing in the VIP pit all night, he was bound to notice you, even if it was just a passing glance, and you had been to an ENHYPEN fan signing not too long ago. Maybe he thought he recognized you, but couldn't remember from where?

But he wasn’t turning away, and the concert had just ended so why was he still staring? Why did it feel like you were trapped in a game you hadn’t known you were playing?

Girls around you waved goodbye to the group as they exited the stage—you would have to—but you couldn’t move. You were stock still, his one-way gaze holding you in place. And then you were being escorted toward the exit of the venue by security.

Normal. This was normal.

“Excuse me,” until it wasn’t, “please follow me.”

You paused, covering your mouth with the back of one of your hands. She was wearing all black, and a headset wrapped around her head—it didn’t take a genius to figure it out, but still, you asked. “Who are you?”

“Please,” she smiled, adjusting her mic, "just follow me.”

Who in their right mind would follow a random woman into a dark alcove? But at an ENHYPEN concert, who wouldn’t?

The hallway was wide, the walls a muddy gray, a stark contrast to the brightness that had appeared once the venue’s lights had been flipped on. The headset-girl led you to a room, but there was no name printed on the door. Perhaps it was a waiting room… For… Like… fan-meetings? But as far as you knew, there wasn’t anything set up beforehand, and you would’ve certainly remembered if you’d signed up for something like that—more so if you’d won.

Less things began to add up as you walked around the room. It appeared to be in-use—though there was no one present at the moment—but not for permanent stays.

You ran your fingers over the black, leather couch in the center. Maybe you should turn the lights on so you wouldn't bump into anything—but where were they? Damn, you should have asked that Unni.

Your breath caught in your throat just as you spun around; the door was swinging open and then closing in less than a second, allowing only one person to enter. “Who—” woah, what was going on with your voice? It was trembling. Were you that nervous?

Your hands pressed to your cheeks and you took a step back. “I think there’s been some confusion.”

“What?” It sounded almost like a laugh.

You held your breath as his feet moved him forward. You fell into the middle of the couch, holding your breath as his arm shot out, capturing you between himself and the cushion behind you. “A—misunderstanding...”

Your eyes went wide, your cheeks flushed from more than the heat, and your thighs squeezed without any warning. “I don’t think so.” His eyes were pools of midnight, they captivated you with such intensity that you thought you’d pass out if this didn’t cease.

Your shaky inhale and a shuddering exhale had him grinning. He traced your jaw with the tips of his fingers, trailing them down your neck. He smelled like cedarwood and something tart, and if you didn’t figure out what the hell was going on—wait…

Maybe you were dead?

Dehydration? It was a possibility.

An unwanted whimper fell from your lips when his other hand gripped your thigh. “What’s wrong?” He was mocking you, that expression told you everything.

You swallowed. What the actual hell was going on? “Hey—wait—” You pulled your hands in front of your face. He was so close. Heeseung pried your hands away.

“You always look so pretty.” His breath coated the tip of your ear and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “I remember you—” he said. “A few months ago.” He pulled away, looking down at you with the hungriest eyes you’d ever seen. “You looked so innocent then, too.”

Confusion warped around explanations in your head. “You know me?”

A cold laugh fell from his lips and he threw his head up. “Know you?” He shook his head, hand shooting out. Long, warm fingers wrapped around your throat and he squeezed, grinding against you. “Of course I do.”

A gasp formed around your mouth when his hand around your neck forced you to look up.

“You’re mine.”

 “Wh—” you choked when his grip tightened.

“I own you.”

One of his fingers slipped between your legs, teasing at your panties.

“Soaked, are we?” He titled his head and damnit if that wasn't the hottest thing you'd ever set your sights on.

You bit down, your jaw locking when his hand slipped past the fabric protecting you. He worked you up slowly, and then he was pumping until you were squirming with pleasure instead of fear.

“That’s right,” he murmured against your temple.

You met his hand with each curl, digging your nails into his shoulder. He strained against your hold, laughing at your whine. He’d stopped moving his fingers, why? You clenched around nothing now.

“Don’t worry.” He undid the clasp of his belt, “I’m still going to ruin you.”

It was too late to realize that this was probably really wrong. He was your idol, your bias—he wasn’t someone who whispered dirty things into your ear and took gratification in toying with your head. You shuddered when he lined his tip with your entrance. Your hands gripped around his forearms.

“Look at you.” He scoffed, forcing your chin down, “Look at what a slut you are.”

His free arm wrapped around your waist, and with one thrust of his hips, he filled you.

Your screams were muffled by his palm and you bit down, saliva coating the soft skin. Tears streaked down your cheeks and he absolutely adored it.

“God—” he groaned as your body convulsed around him, sucking him deeper and deeper. He was losing himself, but hadn’t he already lost?

Before all of this—a few months ago, the second his gaze had caught hers? That moment seemed like forever ago, it seemed like he’d been without her for lifetimes—and tonight, when he’d seen her in the crowd—at the very front, he knew. He just knew he had to have her.

That outfit she wore—clean on the outside—but he knew what lay beneath. It all now lay stretched, drenched, and filthy.

On her main social media, she was a private person—at least that’s what most people would’ve thought when looking at her page. But after digging—lots of digging—he’d discovered another side to her. The side that no one but the night life of Seoul knew.

She was dirty—she was dangerous—but fuck everything if he couldn’t desroy that perfect little image she’d built up. Even if it was in secret like this—she was his. No one else would ever touch her. His. She was his.

He groaned as her walls squeezed around his length. His slut. His.

꒰১ ───────── ───────── ໒꒱

[nisc0]

───⋆˚ WHAT YOU NEED ꩜｡

(이 희승) ── sneaky link!heeseung 𝔁 f!reader

IN WHICH ─── Heeseung teaches you everything that your cheating boyfriend couldn’t. He’s been waiting for the day you would realize that he could do better and much more than his best friend.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : smut (MDNI), porn with a bit of plot 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : switch!heeseung, switch!reader, mention of alcohol, smoking, swearing, cheating, manhandling, heeseung is a gentleman despite his attitude, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, praising, light degradation, oral sex (f. receiving), light edging, orgasm denial, use of nickname : baby, my pretty girl 𝐰𝐜 : 7.9k {7.977}

❕# pheeew I speed run that shii. I goon to the pic on top every night—WHO TFFFFF SAID THAAAT????? Guys I need this man to put me in my place like RIGHT NOW. This song represents him so well. Ugh he’s mister dadaman fr

INSPIRED BY : What You Need - The Weeknd

(+ Slow It Down - Ty Dolla $ign)

What could be worse than going to the restaurant with your boyfriend a week after you found out that he’s been cheating on you? Oh right, you don’t know. Ethan orders for himself without asking what you're having first, catches himself halfway through, and asks you anyway. You already know what you want because you always know what you want here.

His phone sits face up next to his water glass. It lights up twice in the first ten minutes. Both times he glances down, thumb hovering, before setting it back exactly where it was. "Sorry," he says, not looking up from the screen the third time. "Work thing."

You nod like that made sense. You've heard about Heeseung's terrible taste in restaurants, about his coworker’s dog, about traffic on the way here ; three separate stories he's started and abandoned mid-sentence because his attention keeps sliding sideways toward that phone.

"You could put it away," you say, tired enough that it comes out flat.

"I know. I will." He actually doesn't.

The waiter brings your food and Ethan eats fast, he’s already somewhere else in his mind. You ask about his sister's move to Daegu and get half an answer before his phone buzzes again and he actually picks it up this time, thumb moving across the screen, brow furrowed like the message requires real concentration.

You watch him read it. You watch his jaw do a small tightening, and you already know before he opens his mouth. "I have to go in," he says. "They need someone to cover a shift. I'm really sorry, I know we just got here."

Work doesn't call people in at 9:47 at night for office emergencies. You've known things like this for months now, small inconsistencies that don't line up if you actually stack them next to each other, which is why you stopped stacking them.

"Now?" you ask anyway, knowing how it will end up.

"I wouldn't if I didn't have to." He's already reaching for his wallet, already half out of his seat. "I'll make it up to you. Promise."

You tell him it's fine and to go, that you'll finish eating and head home. He kisses the top of your head, distracted, already checking his phone again as he walks toward the door, and you sit there with a plate you've lost interest in and a boyfriend-shaped absence across the table.

Your phone buzzes. Heeseung.

Heeseung [9:54 PM]

you good?

saw ethan's location just switched to "downtown" lol at 9pm

You stare at the message for a second too long before you type back.

Y/N [9:54 PM]

he had a work thing apparently

Heeseung [9:55 PM]

mhm. sure he did

You almost put the phone down.

Y/N [9:55 PM]

please don’t start

Heeseung [9:57 PM]

wasn't gonna say anything. i'm very good at not saying things

Y/N [9:57 PM]

you're the worst at not saying things btw

Heeseung [9:58 PM]

rude.

i've been holding back SO much tonight and this is the thanks i get

You find yourself smiling at your phone, alone at a table for two, food going cold in front of you. Even though you couldn’t care less.

The waiter comes by to clear Ethan's plate and asks if you need anything else, and you're halfway through saying no when your phone buzzes again.

Heeseung [10:05 PM]

where are you?

sending someone to get you before you sit there being sad and pathetic

Y/N [10:05 PM]

wdym I’m not sad and pathetic

Heeseung [10:06 PM]

you're eating alone at a restaurant your boyfriend just ditched. what else could it be?

address please.

You give him the name of the place mostly because arguing about whether you're pathetic or not would take more energy than you have left right now. Fifteen minutes later Heeseung walks in wearing a jacket you’ve seen plenty of times, scanning the room until he finds you, and drops into the seat across from you like he's been there the whole time.

"You didn't have to come, you know." you state.

"I know that very well. I wanted to see you sad and pathetic in person." He picks up the menu even though you're clearly done eating, flips through it without really looking. "Also I was bored."

"Comforting."

"I try." He waves the waiter over before you can stop him, orders a drink for himself, and when the bill comes a few minutes later he reaches over and takes it before you can even move your hand toward it.

"Heeseung."

"Yeah?"

"Give me that."

"No." He's already pulling out his card, not even glancing at the total.

"I can pay for my own food."

"Never said you couldn't." He hands the card to the waiter without looking at you, and something about how easy it is for him : he acts like it costs him nothing and like it’s something he has to do but does it naturally. The inside of your stomach is tingling and obviously not because of the food you had earlier.

"I'm being serious, I don't need you to—"

"I know you don't need me to." He lifts his gaze and looks at you with less joking in it than a second ago. "I want to. Learn how it’s not the same."

"That's not the point."

"What's the point, then?"

You freezes, not an answer or a talk back could reach your mind, and he grins like he's won something.

"Aw, look at that," he says. "I missed that face."

"I fucking hate you."

"You don't. You're just annoyed you can't win an argument about who gets to pay for your dinner, which, by the way, is a very weird thing to be stubborn about."

"It's called having self-respect."

"It's called being difficult for no reason, but sure, we can call it self-respect if that makes you feel better." The card comes back and he signs without checking the receipt, tucks it away, and stands up casually. "Come on. I'm parked badly and I will get towed."

"You fucking asshole."

"You keep saying that like it's news." He holds his hand out, not really an offer so much as an assumption you'll take it, and you do.

He gets in to start the car, and has a cigarette lit before you've even got your seatbelt on. The window cracks an inch, cold air cutting through the smoke smell that's already filling the small space.

"You know those are terrible for you," you say.

"Groundbreaking information. Thank you." He takes a drag, one hand on the wheel, not pulling out of the spot yet.

"I'm dead serious. You should stop."

"I should do a lot of things." He glances at you sideways, smoke curling out the window. "You should stop pretending you don't know your boyfriend's cheating on you. We're both just walking around not doing things we should, I guess."

The car goes quiet except for the engine idling. You look straight ahead at the brick wall of the restaurant, at nothing. "I don't know what you're talking about," you say in a breathy tone.

"Sure you don't." He's not looking at you now either, tapping ash out the window, voice even, done pretending along with you. "His location switches off every other night. He checks his phone at dinner like it's gonna bite him if he doesn't. Tonight he left you at a restaurant for a 'work thing' that doesn't exist, and you didn't even ask him to explain it properly. You just let him go."

"That's not—" You stop and start again. "It's complicated."

"It's really not." He finally pulls out of the spot, one hand on the wheel, cigarette still between two fingers. "You don't want to deal with it. Which, fine, your business. But don't sit there and tell me you don't know, because I’m aware for the phone thing tonight too, and you didn't look surprised. You looked like someone who's done the math already."

There isn't a version of an answer that isn't just agreeing with him. So silence is the best option you could have at this moment.

"I'm not trying to make it worse, okay?" he says, softer, some of the edge gone out of his voice. "I just don't really feel like watching you sit through dinners like that and pretend it's normal."

"Why do you even care?"

He takes another drag and lets it out slow.

"Good question," he says finally without elaborating further, yet you don’t want to know more of it, because you're not sure you want to hear the answer any more than he seems to want to give it.

He drives you around the city for a while then turns left instead of right at the light that would've led back toward your apartment. The road opens up eventually, streetlights getting sparser, and then there's the smell of salt before you see the water. He parks in a mostly empty lot facing the beach, cuts the engine, and the quiet that follows feels different from the quiet in the restaurant parking lot. It’s less loaded.

"Why are we here?" you ask.

"I needed air that doesn't smell like your ex's cologne." He's already pulling his jacket off, tossing it into the back seat. Underneath he's just in a black tank top, and it's warm enough out that it makes sense, summer nights here never really cooling off the way you'd expect. "Also I like it here. Don't make it a big deal."

"He's not my ex."

"Give it time." He says it lightly, already opening his door, not wanting to hear you argue back. "Come."

You get out as sitting in the car alone would feel worse than following him. The sand is cool yet the air isn't, and he walks ahead of you toward the water without checking if you're behind him, hands in his pockets and shoulders loose.

"You could've warned me we were going to the beach," you say, catching up. "I'm in the wrong shoes for this."

"You're in shoes. That's more preparation than I did."

"You're wearing actual sneakers."

"Correct. Preparation." He glances back at you, the corner of his mouth pulling up. "Take them off if you're gonna complain the whole time."

"I'm not complaining, it was just a statement."

"Same thing, coming from you."

You shove his shoulder, and he barely moves as he laughs, low and light, as your annoyance is the most entertaining thing that's happened to him all week. The water's dark ahead of you, waves you can hear more than see, you can feel the knot in your belly loosening up.

"So this is the fresh air you talked about," you say, kicking your heels off like he told you to, sand cold between your toes. "Very noble of you, considering your lungs are probably black at this point."

"They're totally fine."

"You just smoked an entire cigarette in a closed car ten minutes ago."

"The window was cracked."

"Barely an inch."

He stops walking. He turns to look at you, and there's a specific kind of offense on his face, you can see that’s it’s fake. "Okay, you don't get to smoke-shame me and then act like you weren't the one who wanted to eat a hundred tons of sugar last week."

"That has nothing to do with your lungs."

"It's about hypocrisy, Y/N." He's already crossing his arms, which should've been your first warning. "You wanna talk about people ruining their bodies, we can talk about those candies."

"That's not remotely the same thing, and you know it."

"I don't know anything. I'm just a guy with fucked up lungs, apparently, standing here, getting attacked—"

"I didn't attack you, I made a freaking statement—"

"—run," he says, it's not really a warning and it's already happening, he's moving toward you before the word's even fully out. You don't think and you just run, already laughing three steps away, sand slowing you down and you probably look embarrassing and isn't because he's not much faster, both of you stumbling across the beach. He's close behind you, close enough that you can hear him laughing too, breathless, yet you don't look back and just keep going toward nothing in particular, the water loud beside you and your own heartbeat louder, making you forget why you were sad in the first place.

"Slow down!" you yell back at him, though you're the one speeding up. "Your lungs can't take this!"

"They're taking it fine, actually—" He's gaining on you, voice rougher now from the running, the laughing, both. "Better than yours, probably, all that complaining you do about stairs—"

"I don't even complain about stairs—"

"You complained about stairs yesterday. To my face."

"That building has no elevator, that's a legitimate—" You don't get to finish, because his hand catches your arm, hard enough to throw your balance off, and you're laughing too much to fight it anyway.

"Got you—"

"You didn't—"

He did. Your feet tangle in the sand and his do too trying to compensate, and there's a second where it could've gone fine, where you both could've just stopped, but now you're both going down, and he twists at the last second so he hits the sand first and you land half on top of him, knocking whatever air he had left in those apparently terrible lungs straight out of him.

"Okay," he wheezes, staring up at the sky, chest moving fast under you. "Okay, that one's on me."

You're still laughing, you can't stop, face pressed near his shoulder, sand in your hair, in your clothes, everywhere. "You caught me on purpose."

"I caught you very badly on purpose."

"Your lungs are so fucked."

"Please stop talking about my lungs." He's laughing too, you can feel it more than hear it, his chest shaking under where you're braced against him, and neither of you moves to get up right away, and it takes a second before either of you remembers there's a reason you're supposed to pull away from this.

"Great," you say, still not moving off him. "Now I'm covered in sand. This was a bad idea."

"It was my favorite plan I've had all week."

"You've had bad judgment all week, then." You finally push yourself up, brushing sand off your arms, off your legs, a losing battle. He sits up slower, still catching his breath, watching you try to fix your hair with zero success.

"I'm also thirsty," you add.

"There's water in the car."

"Warm water in a car that smells like cigarettes doesn't count."

He stands, holds a hand out to pull you up, and doesn't let go right away once you're on your feet. He looks at you for a second, he seems like he's deciding something. "Come to mine. Shower, water, whatever you need. It’s better than dropping you off covered in sand at eleven at night."

"Heeseung, I don't need—"

"You keep saying that word like it changes anything about what I'm gonna do anyway." He's already walking back toward the car, keys spinning once around his finger. "Come on."

His apartment turns out to be nothing like you expected, which annoys you a little, because you'd built some idea of his place in your head ; messy, small ; and instead the elevator opens straight into something enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows facing the city, furniture that looks like it costs a hundred racks, which does.

"This is insane," you say, standing in the doorway, still not fully inside. "You live here? Alone?"

"Don't sound so betrayed about it."

"I pictured you in, like, a studio apartment with a mattress on the floor."

"Wow. Thank you for that image of me." He drops his keys on the counter, shrugging like the apartment doesn't warrant comment. "Bathroom's down the hall, second door. There's towels in there. I'll find you something to change into that isn't full of sand."

You still haven't moved from the doorway, taking in the size of it, the quietness of a place too clean to belong to someone who bickers the way he does. "How do you even afford this?"

"Very boring answer. Ask me another time." He's already disappearing down the hall, calling back over his shoulder. "Towels. Bathroom. Go before you track sand into my very expensive rug."

You linger by the counter instead of heading for the bathroom yet, arms crossed, sand still clinging to your ankles. "Okay, but—when am I getting home tonight? I have work in the morning."

He reappears from the hallway with a folded shirt and shorts in hand, tossing them onto the couch for you. "Never. You live here now. I've decided."

"Heeseung."

"It's already, what, eleven thirty? You're covered in sand, your options are a shower here or a shower at home in forty-five minutes of traffic smelling like a beach." He shrugs, entirely too pleased with his own logic. "I'll drive you back whenever. Or you sleep on the world's most comfortable couch and I take you home before work. Very generous offer, considering my lungs are apparently on their way out."

"That's not what I asked."

"Yeah, and I answered better questions in my life." He nods toward the hallway, unbothered. "Go shower. I'm not driving anywhere until you stop smelling like low tide."

You get out of the shower first, dressed in the shirt and shorts he left you, both too big, sleeves falling past your hands. When you find him in the kitchen he's just in sweatpants, no shirt, hair still wet, and you stop in the doorway far too long before catching yourself.

"What?" he says, not even looking up from the glass of water he's pouring.

"Nothing. Put a shirt on, it's weird."

"It's my apartment, and it's hot. I'm not putting a shirt on for you." He slides the glass across the counter toward you, finally glancing over, and whatever's on your face makes something shift in his. "Are you flustered right now?"

"No."

"You're a little flustered."

"I'm annoyed." You grab the glass just to have something to do with your hands, and drink half of it too fast. "Some warning would've been nice."

"A warning for what, my own kitchen?"

"For the— " you point directly at him, at the general fact of him, "—situation."

"There's no situation. This is just what I look like." A shit eating grin appears on his face, fully enjoying this, leaning against the counter. "You can look away if it's that distressing."

"I'm not even looking."

"You're looking right now."

"I'm looking at you to argue with you, and you look so dumb right now."

"Sure it is." He pushes off the counter, grabs a pack of cigarettes off the counter, and heads for the balcony door without the will to talk back. You follow, mostly out of spite, and the air outside is warm, the city spread out below, making the apartment's size make a little more sense. He lights up, leaning on the railing, and you stand a few feet away, arms crossed against a chill that isn't really there.

The smoke drifts toward you on the next breath of wind and you cough slightly, covering the lower half of you face with your hand.

His eyes stay on the city while a silent chuckle almost escapes him. He shifts slowly, moving to stand on your left instead, angling himself so the smoke pulls away from you and out over the railing. A quietness installs itself between you.

He flicks ash over the railing, and glances at you. "You want a drink or something? I've got wine, I think there's soju somewhere too."

"Wine would be good."

He disappears inside for a minute, comes back with two glasses and the bottle tucked under his arm, he sets everything down on the small table between the balcony chairs. You sit, and he drops into the chair across from you, pouring without measuring, more in yours than his.

"How did we even meet?" you say, mostly to fill the silence, turning the glass by its stem. "Like, before Ethan and I were even together. I feel like I always just knew you as his friend."

"You did. That's exactly what happened." He takes a sip to give himself time to recoil on the memory. "We met at that party his roommate threw, where it had the terrible speaker system. You spilled something on my shoes and apologized for like ten minutes straight."

"I did not apologize for ten minutes."

"You did. I still remember the shoes, they were new."

"You're exaggerating."

"I'm really not, I still have them." He leans back, glass balanced on his knee. "Then Ethan started talking about you nonstop for like a month before he actually got the balls to ask you out. It was unbearable. I heard about your laugh before I heard you laugh."

You laugh a little despite yourself. "That's embarrassing," you say.

"For him, mostly. I didn't say anything." He swirls the wine, not quite looking at you now. "You were different back then. I mean—Not different-different. I just think that you were, like, less careful about everything."

"Careful how?"

"You used to argue with me for fun. Now half the time you're arguing with me because you're arguing with something else and I'm just the nearest target." He says in a chuckle. "I liked the fun version better. Not that this version's bad, though."

You take your time before replying. Your fingers slowly roll the glass between your palms as you watch the wine reflect the light, letting the silence fill the space while you think.

"I didn't notice it happening," you say finally.

"Fair enough. That's usually how it goes."

He gives you time. He sits beside you in comfortable silence, his glass resting against his knee while the distant sounds of the city soften the moment.

"You know he doesn't deserve the amount of patience you're giving him, right?" he says eventually, not looking at you when he says it, trying to make it easier for both of you. "Whatever he's doing, wherever he's going at nine at night—you're sitting there making excuses for him. I watched you do it tonight."

"It's not that simple."

"It’s obviously not simple, we both know that. I'm saying you deserve someone who doesn't make you rehearse excuses for him in your head before he's even said anything." He looks over at you, his gaze serious. "You're smart. You're funny, when you're not exhausted, which lately is rare. You shouldn't be spending this much of yourself on someone who’s always checking his phone at a dinner with you."

"You don't know everything that's going on, so stop—"

"I don't need to know everything. I already know enough." He sets his glass down, leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees. "I'm not trying to convince you to do anything, okay? I just don't think you hear it enough, so I'm saying it. You deserve better than what he's giving you. That's it."

You look down at your glass instead of at him, throat tight from what you’ve been holding since you found out.

"Like it matters to you, anyway." you mumble quietly.

He lets the silence settle between you once more. Taking a deep breath, he seems to consider his next words carefully, revealing nothing before he's ready.

"It does," he declares finally. "I'm not gonna make it more complicated than that tonight."

You let the subject rest, and he doesn't volunteer anything more. Together, you sit quietly, listening to the muted sounds of the city while the wine slowly warms in your hands. Somehow, the silence says more than words you could find.

After some time, you both decided to watch a movie to ease everything out. Now, you’re curled up on the couch, the bottle of wine you two polished off leaving a soft warmth in your veins. The TV flickers with some late-night drama that you couldn't force yourself to be invested in even if you wanted to. Your head feels pleasantly light, and whatever usually fuels your arguments has faded, leaving behind nothing more than lazy teasing.

A new scene unfolds on screen : dark lighting, tangled sheets, the actors lost in a heated and sensual moment. The woman arches under her partner’s touch as his hands glide slowly over her body ; caressing, teasing, worshipping. The sounds are low and breathy, filling the room.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, and the wine makes you bold. You glance at Heeseung beside you. "I…I’ve never done that with Ethan," you murmur, voice coming out as a whisper. "Not like that, at least."

Heeseung’s head snaps toward you, eyes wide with real shock. "Wait—what? Never? Not even close?"

You shake your head, biting your lip as embarrassment and frustration mix with the alcohol. "No. It’s always been…rushed. He never wanted to explore things or try new things. Like he doesn’t have the patience for it." Your gaze lingers on the screen for another second before returning to him. "Do you…know how to do that? Like, really touch someone like that?"

Heeseung keeps his eyes on you, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. Something unspoken passes between you. "Y/N…" he starts, voice low and careful, a flicker of heat in his eyes.

You shift slightly, scooting an inch closer on the couch. "Show me? I want to know everything. Touch me the way he’s touching her. Please?"

He swallows, and finally slowly nods, setting his empty glass aside. "Alright. But tell me when it's too much, okay?" His voice has dropped, rougher now. He reaches out, starting gentle. His fingers brush along your arm, tracing slow lines from your wrist up to your shoulder. "Like this," he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. "Pay attention to how your skin feels under my hand." His palm flattens against your collarbone, sliding down your side in one smooth caress, mapping the curve of your waist through your shirt.

You shiver, the wine amplifying every touch. Emboldened, you lean into him, and he scoots closer too, until your thighs press together. His other hand joins in, fingertips grazing your neck, then trailing down your chest with feather-light pressure.

"Tell me what feels good," he instructs softly, his hand venturing lower, stroking along your hip and the top of your thigh. "Here?" He squeezes gently, then lets his palm glide back up, bolder now.

The space between you disappears as you both shift nearer, bodies turning toward each other. Your hand finds his chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat, and slide up to his neck. His breath grows heavier. His fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, caressing bare skin ; warm, exploratory, following the line of your ribs.

You look up at him, lips parted. He meets your gaze for half a second before closing the distance. Tongues meet, slow and deep at first, turning more insistent as your fingers thread into his hair. He pulls you closer, one hand firm on your lower back while the other continues its caress, sliding higher under your shirt.

His kisses grow fiercer, nipping at your lower lip before soothing it, bodies pressing together on the couch as the moment spirals deeper.

You automatically swing your leg over, straddling Heeseung’s lap as the kiss deepens. Your knees sink into the couch on either side of him, bodies aligning perfectly. He groans softly into your mouth, his hands finding your waist instantly, gripping you to steady the sudden movement. "Y/N…" he breathes against your lips, pulling you closer.

His fingers dig in a little too hard at first ; eager, hungry from the built-up tension ; and you yelp sharply against his mouth, a quick flash of pain cutting through the haze of wine and heat. He pulls back immediately, eyes wide with concern, his grip loosening right away. "Shit—sorry," he murmurs. One hand gently rubs the spot on your waist where he’d gripped too tightly. "Didn’t mean to. You okay?"

You nod quickly, still breathing hard, the sting already fading into the warmth. "Yeah…I’m fine. Don’t stop."

Relief flashes across his face, quickly renewed by that same heated look. He leans in again, capturing your lips in another urgent kiss. his time, there's a new caution in the way he touches you. His hands glide slowly along your sides, lingering as though giving you every chance to pull away before one drifts lower. He cups your ass firmly, squeezing with just the right pressure ; possessive, appreciative ; as he pulls you tighter against him.

You moan softly into the kiss, rolling your hips instinctively. His tongue slides against yours, deeper and more demanding now, while his fingers knead your ass, encouraging the movement. The kiss turns messy, breathless, both of you lost in the heat as his other hand stays anchored at your waist, guiding you closer. The undeniable spark between you push everything else away.

You’re both breathing heavily when Heeseung pulls back just enough to speak, his voice low and gentle against your ear. "Come off my lap for a second, baby," he murmurs, hands sliding soothingly along your thighs. "Turn around for me."

You nod, a little dazed from the wine and the intensity, and shift off him. He helps guide you, turning you so your back is to his chest. He settles back against the couch, spreading his legs and pulling you between them until you’re nestled against him, your back flush to his front. His arms wrap around you from behind, one hand resting on your stomach while the other strokes your thigh.

"Spread your legs for me," he says softly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "As far as you can. Let me see you."

You obey, parting your thighs wider, heat flooding your face as the position leaves you open and exposed. Heeseung hums approvingly, his fingers teasing lightly along the inside of your thigh, drawing slow circles that inch higher but never quite touch where you’re starting to ache.

"My pretty girl," he whispers, the praise making you shiver. His hand keeps stroking closer and closer until you’re squirming. "Has he ever fingered you?" he asks almost hesitantly, he already suspects the answer.

You shake your head, voice small. "No…He never did. He only ever made me suck his dick and...he was so rushed to put it in."

Heeseung exhales sharply, a mix of disbelief and irritation flashing through him. "Fuck…alright. I’ve got you."

He’s careful ; painfully so. His fingers slide under your clothes, gently parting you before one fingertip circles your entrance, gathering wetness. "Tell me if it hurts or if you want me to stop," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

Slowly, he eases one finger inside you, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch. He moves gently, curling carefully, his other arm holding you against his chest. "Breathe, Y/N. I’ll make it good for you."

He adds a second finger only when you start rocking back against his hand, still cautious, focusing entirely on your reactions as he begins to pump them in a sluggish rhythm. His thumb finds your clit, teasing light circles while he fingers you with patient strokes.

You gasp sharply as Heeseung’s fingers suddenly hit harder, the angle shifting and sending a jolt of pain through you. Your body tenses, a small cry escaping your lips.

He freezes instantly, eyes widening in panic. "Shit—sorry, sorry," he blurts, quickly easing his fingers out of you. "I didn’t mean to—fuck, are you okay? I’m so sorry, Y/N." He repeats the apology under his breath, one hand gently rubbing your thigh while the other hovers uncertainly, clearly rattled.

You catch your breath, the sting fading fast in the haze of alcohol. A smirk slowly tugs at your lips as you look back at him over your shoulder. "Are you really sorry?"

"Yes," he says immediately, voice earnest. "Of course I am."

You turn around fully to face him, still sitting between his legs. "Then get on your knees in front of me."

He blinks, then lets out a short disbelieving scoff, assuming you’re joking. "What? Right now?"

Your expression stays serious, eyes locked on his. "I said get on your knees."

The smirk on his face fades when he realizes you mean it. After a beat of hesitation, he slides off the couch and drops to his knees on the floor in front of you, looking up at you with surprise and growing desire.

"Come closer," you order softly.

He shifts forward on his knees until he’s right between your spread legs, hands resting tentatively on your thighs as he waits for your next instruction, breath a little uneven.

You lean back slightly, looking down at him. "Lick it."

Heeseung’s eyes darken instantly. Without another word, he leans in, pressing his mouth to you. His tongue drags slowly through your folds at first ; warm and soaked ; before he settles into long hungry strokes, focusing on your clit with just the right pressure. His hands grip your thighs to hold you open as he licks you with focused intent, the earlier apology shifted by eager obedience.

You let the pleasure build for a few moments, your hand threading into his hair as his tongue works you over with growing confidence. But then you tug gently, pulling him back.

"Stop." you say, voice breathy yet firm.

Heeseung pulls away immediately, lips glistening, looking up at you with hooded eyes and a hint of confusion. His chest rises and falls quickly.

You smirk down at him, still holding his hair. "You’re not going to continue until you say sorry…while you’re eating me out."

He blinks once, processing the command, then an almost amused smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You’re serious?"

You raise an eyebrow, waiting.

He leans back in without further protest. His tongue returns to you before he murmurs the words right against your core, the vibrations sending sparks through you. "I’m sorry," he breathes, licking a long stripe up your folds. "Sorry for being too rough…" Another slow swirl around your clit. "I won’t hurt you again."

He keeps going, alternating between soft apologies and dedicated licks, his voice low and muffled as he eats you out. "Sorry, baby…fuck, you taste so good." His hands grip your thighs a little tighter as he buries his tongue deeper, still repeating quiet "sorry"s between every lick and suck, the blend of submission and hunger making the moment even more intense.

You lean back further, letting him worship you like that ; his apologies vibrating against you with every stroke of his tongue.

You slide your fingers deeper into his hair, gripping it firmly as you pull him closer against you. Heeseung’s eyes flutter half-closed ; sleepy and hazy with lust ; his ears flushed a pretty shade of pink from the heat and the wine. The sight makes something wicked twist in your lower belly.

"Well, would you look at yourself," you tease, voice breathy but filled with amusement. "On your knees, ears all pink, eyes looking half-asleep like a fucking loser."

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, lips shiny and swollen, a lazy smirk spreading across his face despite the grip you have on his hair. His sleepy eyes narrow playfully. "Loser?" he scoffs, breath hot against your skin. "Says the one who’s been missing out for months and is now dripping all over my face. If I’m such a loser, why are you pulling my hair like you never want me to stop?"

You tug his hair a little harder in response, and he lets out a low, amused chuckle, vibrating right where you need it.

"Keep talking shit and I might actually stop," you warn, though your hips roll forward, chasing his mouth.

Heeseung’s smirk only widens, pink ears burning brighter. "Yeah? Then I guess this loser better shut up and keep saying sorry…" He dives back in with renewed energy, tongue pressing flat and slow, murmuring one last muffled "Sorry, baby" against you before focusing entirely on making your teasing backfire.

You feel it building fast ; the tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core while his tongue works you relentlessly. His sleepy eyes stay locked on yours whenever he pulls back for air, pink ears still burning, that smug little smirk never fully leaving his face even while he’s buried between your thighs.

Your grip in his hair tightens, hips rolling against his mouth as your breathing turns ragged. "Heeseung—fuck, I’m—"

Right as the orgasm crests, right as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls back completely. His mouth leaves you with one last slow, teasing lick before he sits back on his heels, lips glistening, looking far too pleased with himself.

You let out a frustrated whine, thighs trembling. "What the hell—"

He chuckles lowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes are sleepy-lidded, but sparkling with mischief. "Not yet," he murmurs, voice rough. One finger lazily traces up your inner thigh, barely brushing where you need him. "You were talking so much shit earlier about me being a loser…thought you could handle a little teasing."

You glare down at him, still panting, the denied orgasm leaving you aching and frustrated. He leans in again, pressing the softest, almost innocent kiss right above your clit, then another on your thigh ; carefully avoiding where you’re throbbing.

"What is it?" he teases, voice low and amused. "All worked up and squirming. Were you really about to cum that fast on my tongue? Cute."

He blows a gentle stream of cool air against your wet folds, making you jolt, then gives you one torturously light lick before pulling away again.

"Beg a little nicer and maybe I’ll let you finish," he says with a smirk, pink ears still flushed as he watches your reaction, clearly enjoying edging you way too much.

Your hand tightens in his hair again, torn between wanting to pull him back in and wanting to throttle him for stopping.

You’re still catching your breath on the couch, legs shaky from the cruel edge, when Heeseung rises from his knees. He climbs over you, hovering above your body with his hands braced on either side of your head. His face is flushed, those sleepy eyes dark with want as he looks down at you.

You bite your lip, heart racing. Slowly, you lift one leg and slide your foot up between his thighs, pressing the sole against the obviously hard bulge straining through his sweatpants. You rub it teasingly with your toes, pressing on it with gentle pressure, feeling him twitch under your foot.

His breath hitches sharply, hips jerking forward into your touch. "Y/N," he warns, voice low and strained.

You look up at him with soft, fakely innocent eyes, a sweet little smile playing on your lips even as your foot continues its lazy; pressing, rubbing, tracing the outline of his cock through the soft fabric.

"What?" you murmur softly, batting your lashes. “You edged me…seems only fair I play with you a little."

He lets out a shaky laugh, forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder for a moment. His arms tremble slightly as he holds himself up, clearly fighting the urge to grind harder against your foot.

"Fuck, you’re evil," he breathes, with only affection and raw desire. His eyes flutter half-closed again as you keep rubbing him so gently, the contrast between your soft gaze and the teasing pressure of your foot making him groan quietly above you.

The air between you crackles, thick with tension as he hovers there, letting you toy with him.

You’re still looking up at him with those soft eyes when he suddenly pulls back. He stands just long enough to shove his sweatpants and boxers down in one motion, kicking them aside. His cock springs free, hard and flushed. Before you can fully process, he’s back on the couch, gently turning you around again so your back is pressed to his chest ; just like earlier.

You blink in confusion, still wobbly. "Heeseung, what are you—?"

While staying silent, he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. With his free hand, he guides his cock, rubbing the thick head slowly up and down your soaked core. The pressure is heavy and hot as he glides it between your folds, coating himself in your wetness, letting you feel every inch of his length sliding against your sensitive skin.

"Just feel it," he murmurs against your ear. "Gotta get you used to me first."

The grind makes you whimper, your body tensing as the blunt head nudges at your entrance. Then he pushes in ; slow and gentle. The stretch is intense. You yell out at the burn, your hands flying back to grip his thighs.

Heeseung stops instantly, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "I know, baby, I know," he whispers soothingly, voice dull and tender. "You’re doing so good." One of his hands slides down to caress your lower stomach in comforting circles, trying to ease the discomfort. "I’ve got you, Y/N. I’m right here."

He stays still inside you, whispering sweet nothings against your skin while his fingers keep gently rubbing your stomach. Gradually, the pain starts to melt into a deep ache. When your breathing evens out a little, he begins to move. His thrusts are slothful at first but quickly turn sloppy, messy and uncoordinated from the alcohol and the overwhelming heat of the moment. Wet sounds fill the room as he rocks into you from behind, one arm banded around your waist while the other continues caressing your lower belly.

"Fuck…sorry, it’s—shit, you feel too good," he groans, the pace erratic and desperate, hips snapping up into you with needy and imperfect strokes.

His thrusts are getting sloppier, hips stuttering as the dizziness makes his pace messy and desperate. Next, on one particularly eager push, his cock slips out completely with a wet pop, loud enough to be heard in the entire living room.

You squirm hard in his lap, a needy whimper escaping you at the sudden empty feeling. Your body instinctively rocks back, searching for him again.

Heeseung lets out a breathy chuckle against your neck. "Easy, baby…"

He grips the base of his cock and gives it a couple of lazy slaps against your soaked cunt; wet smacks making you jolt and moan. The head nudges your clit with each tap, fooling you until you’re trembling.

And without warning, he lines himself up and pushes back in with one thrust, burying himself deep into you cunt. You gasp at the sudden fullness, your back arching against his chest as he groans deeply.

"Shit…that sound," he mutters, voice rough. His arm tightens around your waist, holding you in place while his other hand returns to caress your lower stomach. He starts moving again, still sloppy and uncoordinated, but deeper now ; each thrust punctuated by the wet sounds of skin meeting skin.

He kisses along your shoulder, whispering hotly, "You’re so fucking wet…hear how you take me?"

His hips snap up messily, cock sliding in and out as he keeps you pressed tight against him, lost in the pleasure of it all. You’re lost in the flow of his cock sliding in and out of you, the filthy sounds of your pussy filling the room with every sloppy thrust, when your phone starts ringing on the coffee table. The screen lights up with Ethan’s name.

You notice that it doesn't stop Heeseung from doing his work. If anything, his hips snap up harder, driving deeper as he reaches over and grabs your phone. You try to protest through a moan, but he answers the call and puts it on speaker, setting it down nearby.

"Hey, man," he says casually, voice only slightly strained as he keeps fucking you tirelessly from behind. The squelching sounds are loud and clear.

Ethan’s voice comes through, sounding worried. "Heeseung? Where’s Y/N? She’s not home yet and she’s not answering her phone. Is she with you?"

"Yeah, she’s right here," Heeseung replies, one hand gripping your hip tighter as he thrusts up into you again, making you bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. "She’s a little busy though."

You squirm in his lap, embarrassed heat flooding your face even as pleasure keeps building. Heeseung leans closer to your ear and whispers, "Let him hear how wet you are," before picking up the pace.

The obscene, slick sounds of his cock plunging into your soaked pussy echo clearly through the speaker.

Ethan pauses. "What the fuck is that sound? Is she okay?"

Heeseung lets out a low chuckle, still thrusting deeper. "She’s more than okay. I’m fucking her right now, bro. That’s the sound of her pussy taking my cock."

You moan despite yourself as he hits a particularly good spot, unable to stay quiet.

"Can you hear that?" Heeseung asks tauntingly, angling his hips so the wet noises get even louder. "Hear how soaked she is? Those are her moans too. She’s been missing this for a long time."

Ethan’s voice cracks with shock and anger. "What the hell, Heeseung?! Y/N—!"

Before Ethan can finish, Heeseung cuts him off, still buried deep inside you, voice low and possessive as he speaks directly into the phone :

"You might be what she wants…but I’m clearly what she needs."

He hangs up quickly, tossing the phone aside. His arms wrap around you tighter as he resumes fucking you with intensity, mouth pressed to your neck.

"Focus on me, baby," he murmurs hotly. "Just feel how full you are."

The sounds continue as he drives into you, the interruption only making him more eager. You barely have time to process the call ending before your phone starts buzzing repeatedly on the table. Message after message from Ethan lights up the screen ; vibrating angrily one after another.

Heeseung glances at it but doesn’t stop. His hips keep rolling up into you in that same relentless pounding, cock stretching you open with every wet thrust.

"Damn…he’s blowing up your phone," he mutters with a dark chuckle. One arm stays banded around your waist, holding you firmly in place on his lap while his other hand reaches down to rub slow circles over your clit.

He keeps fucking you through the mess. Your phone vibrates again and again ; texts popping up rapidly.

You moan helplessly, eyes fluttering as pleasure overrides everything else. "Heeseung…he’s—"

"I don't fucking care," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. "Let him text. You’re mine right now."

He angles his hips and thrusts up hard, making you cry out as the head of his cock hits that perfect spot over and over. The phone keeps buzzing but Heeseung only fucks you harder, the sounds of your bodies utterly drowning out the vibrations.

His hand on your lower stomach presses down gently, making you feel every inch of him sliding in and out. "Hear how loud your pussy is for me?" he groans, voice rough. "Keep taking it, baby. Just like that."

You’re a mess ; moaning, squirming, gripping his thighs as he continues pounding into you from behind, unbothered by the nonstop stream of notifications. The phone eventually goes silent for a few seconds only to start vibrating again. Both of you wouldn't care less. Heeseung’s only focus is the way your walls clench around him as he fucks you through it all.

So that's what you've been missing out all this time.

📎— @kookieterry @wonderikii @rikisloverrr @icryforenhypen @hyyhwriter @nodoubtily @teddyberryy @genienha @simjakeyjake @2dolcee @heartheejake @amiiq7 @only4nrkkiii @meowieshibal @ily4hoonity @d1m-cataclysm @blaisehazey @not--christ @svtenfate @ilofflee @imtiredofthisbsstuff @megamatt43 @whoshoonie @ni-kichromeheartzz @kristynaaah @charlotee8 @idkhahaha1234 @beommii @enlov3vampxo

[liliwolfstar]

thinking about bf!heeseung who’s so sweet and mushy for you. nothing makes him feel better than making sure his baby is taken care of!! if you’re happy, he’s happy.

had a long, exhausting day? don’t worry, he’s there to help you wash up and get ready for bed. his hands working through your usual bedtime routine with practiced ease because, of course, he has it memorized. he’ll even go as far as helping you slip into the bath to wash your hair, you never have to lift a finger if you don’t want to!

speaking of fingers, his work their way through your hair soo gently that you feel yourself slowly start to drift off, mumbling incoherent, sleepy nonsense. he responds with small hums of “mmhm,” and “yeah, baby?” all while a lovesick pout takes over his face.

you’re conscious enough to note the way he shuts off the faucet and taps your shoulder, signaling he’s done. slowly, you pick yourself up and dry up with the nearest towel as he grabs you an oversized shirt of his. he’s quick to save you any trouble, again, pulling the soft cloth over your head, to which you just respond with a sleepy smile. it’s then that he feels he might just die; happily, of course! but dead nonetheless.