Sypnosis: your bf couldn’t care less that he won the game, he only want you right now.
Warnings: flufff, kissinggg, suggestive?
now playing🎧- can’t feel my face- the weeknd
📍a/n: here’s the heeseung versionnn, btw I shortened the playlist lmk if you like the longer one or shorter one! Again I hope you enjoyyyyyy
Heeseung ver | Jay ver | Jake ver | Sunghoon ver | Sunoo ver | jungwon ver | ni-ki ver
You knew Heeseung had a quiet, intense side that he usually kept hidden behind his idol persona and a headset. But tonight, he was completely dialed into a high-stakes competitive match. You were sitting on his bed, just a few feet away, quietly folding a basket of his oversized hoodies. You didn't want to distract him, but you couldn't help but look up every time his jaw clenched or he murmured a low, frustrated curse into his mic.
Finally, the screen flashed with a victory notification. Heeseung didn't even wait for the lobby to load. He pulled off his headset, tossed it onto the desk, and turned his chair around. His eyes locked onto you instantly, dark and heavy with a sudden shift in focus.
The mattress dipped significantly as he crawled onto the bed on all fours. He moved with a slow, predatory kind of grace that instantly made your heart do a nervous flip.
"Heeseungie? Are you—"
Before you could finish, his long arms wrapped around your waist from behind, dragging your back flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply. His skin was warm, and his breath was hot against your collarbone.
"Heeseung, wait, I’m trying to finish this laundry," you whined softly, though your hands completely froze over a folded shirt. You were entirely innocent to what he actually wanted.
"Let it wait," he purred. His voice was a low, raspy rumble that vibrated right through your spine. "I’ve been sitting there pretending I was focused on a game, when really all I could think about was how much I wanted to do this."
He didn't give you a chance to process. He leaned up, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear before he attacked your neck with a flurry of heavy, needy kisses. You let out a tiny gasp, your toes curling against the sheets. Heeseung chuckled against your skin, a low, wicked sound that let you know exactly what he was doing to you. He loved how easily flustered you got, and tonight, he was leaning entirely into that intense, borderline overwhelming side of his.
With a sudden, swift movement, he shifted his weight. Before you could even blink, you were flat on your back, pinned gently but firmly beneath him on the mattress.
Your breath caught in your throat. Heeseung hovered over you, his knees trapping your hips while his hands moved to lock your wrists against the mattress above your head. He wasn't hurting you at all, but the sheer dominance of the position made your heart race. His dark eyes burned into yours, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with playful malice. "So wide-eyed. Do I scare you a little bit?"
"Heeseung..." you breathed out, your face completely burning red.
"Good. Don't look away," he murmured.
Then, he came down, completely smothering your lips with his. This wasn't a sweet, gentle kiss. It was deep, demanding, and utterly intoxicating. Heeseung kissed you like he was starving, his tongue tracing your lower lip, coaxing you to open up for him. Every time you tried to catch your breath, he’d pull back just a millimeter—just enough to watch your chest heave and see your dazed, ruined expression—before diving right back in to steal the air right out of your lungs again.
He moved his hands down to cup your face, his thumbs wiping away the moisture from your lips as he rained a relentless, breathless of kisses down your jawline, back to your neck, and right back up to your mouth. He was entirely insatiable, smothering you in so much intense affection that by the time he finally let you go, you were trembling, completely dazed, and entirely at his mercy.
💬 ── in which you want them but they want her? | ⚠︎ ── oblivious finally opening their eyes? ngl this was very funny to make, idk about that happy ending still, who deserves a happy ending? l part 2
pairing ── hyung line (individually) x afab reader
nene’s note ── it’s been super weird being on here lately but like i said i’m not going anywhere (you can’t get rid of me) i’ve still got so much to give. let’s consider this something of a filler chapter considering jay and sunghoon don’t talk to yn directly.
Heeseung, his girlfriend, and their ability to fall asleep anywhere.
At first, it was small.
A member would walk into the living room and find you curled up on one end of the couch, Heeseung stretched out on the other—both asleep, completely unaware of each other.
Or they’d catch one of you dozing off in a chair while the other scrolled on their phone nearby.
It was harmless. Kind of funny, even.
“Again?” someone would mutter, nudging Heeseung awake while you stayed completely knocked out.
He’d blink, confused, hair a mess. “…What?”
“Why are you always sleeping?”
He’d glance over at you, still peacefully out, and just shrug.
Then it started overlapping.
It wasn’t just random naps anymore. It was naps together.
During practice breaks, the members would come back into the room expecting noise—music, talking, chaos—
Instead, silence.
And in the corner?
You and Heeseung.
Knocked out.
Sometimes on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap while his arm rested loosely around your waist, both of you completely out.
Other times… on the floor.
Literally the floor.
“Are you serious right now?” one of the members groaned, staring down at the two of you tangled together on the practice room mat.
Heeseung was on his back, one arm under his head, the other draped over you like it belonged there.
You were half on top of him, cheek pressed against his chest, using him like a human pillow.
Neither of you moved.
“…They didn’t even make it to the couch this time,” someone whispered.
It got worse.
They’d lose you.
Constantly.
“Where’s Y/N?”
“Wasn’t she with Heeseung?”
“…Wait—where’s Heeseung?”
Cue ten minutes of searching.
Only to find you both in the most random place imaginable.
Storage room?
Asleep.
Backstage couch?
Asleep.
Corner of the practice room behind the speakers?
Somehow asleep.
Once, they found you both sitting upright against the mirror.
Not even lying down.
Just—
Heads tilted toward each other, shoulders touching, completely knocked out.
“…How are they even comfortable like that?”
“I don’t think comfort matters to them anymore.”
Managers started keeping an eye on you.
Didn’t help.
“Stay awake, okay? You have rehearsal in ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
Five minutes later?
Gone.
Both of you.
One night, after an especially long practice, the members left the room for a quick break.
“You two better not fall asleep,” Jake warned, pointing at you and Heeseung.
Heeseung scoffed lightly. “We won’t.”
You nodded. “We’re fine.”
They came back six minutes later.
Six.
Silence.
“…No way.”
There you were.
Your head on Heeseung’s lap while his head rested on the wall behind him, one hand loosely gripping your sleeve like he needed to make sure you didn’t disappear.
Both of you?
Completely. Out.
“…I give up,” Jay sighed. “They’re actually hopeless.”
synopsis: lee heeseung has been your self-proclaimed nemesis since you were in grade school. from academic rivalries to petty fights, he is in every way the person you can’t stand the most in this world. but when the boy you’ve been pining after for months pops out with a girlfriend, you’re forced to turn to your nemesis for help. a fake relationship. no real feelings. and if things go well, you’ll have the love of your life and he’ll have a finished portfolio. simple, right? except nothing is ever simple when it comes to lee heeseung.
wc: 20k
warnings: photography student!lee heeseung x fem!reader, fake dating trope, rivals to lovers, he fell first and harder, slow burn (reader takes a second to realize she’s in love with hee, but she gets there), kind of love triangle but not really, sunghoon is in here because who would i be without my heehoon agenda, also ft jake and yunjin and chaewon (le sserafim), fluff, alcohol consumption, college!au, cussing, romcom vibes (obviously. this is me writing this) // smut, p in v, oral f!receiving, fingering, soft sex, praise kink, pet names (baby, princess), body worship (? i think), begging, spitting, multiple orgasms, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)
rose thinks… for those who don’t know, fake dating is my absolute all time favorite trope, so of course i had to write it with my favorite guy. i also watched off campus so yk… it’s been a while since i’ve uploaded, so i hope this lives up to any expectations you might have had for it. a special thanks to my lovely @sjynlvr , because you unknowingly gave me the motivation i needed to write this. your kindness in enhablr is felt by this entire community, and it seriously would be so much scarier here without you. as always, reblogs are always appreciated <3
playlist: double take - dhruv // the way i loved you - taylor swift // just a little bit - enhypen // roommates - malcolm todd // boyfriend - ariana grande & social house // pov - ariana grande
You don’t hate Lee Heeseung, mostly because your mom always said that hate was just another word for love (which—absolutely not), but you do find him extremely infuriating.
It’s in the way he’s always just had to be a step ahead of you. Like that time in the fifth grade when your teacher held a mock election for your government lesson, and he’d deliberately ran against you with the sole intention of annoying you. And when he won, he didn’t even do any of the things he’d promised! All he did was pass out whiteboards, and he always made sure to give you the one with the annoying black scribbles on them.
You went through high school like that, with him constantly one upping you in everything you did. He’d even almost beaten you for valedictorian, but you scored two and a half points higher than him on your AP Physics final and the spot was rightfully given to you.
He didn't even seem mad about it, which made the entire thing even more infuriating. He’d spent years trying to prove he was better than you and didn't even flinch when it all amounted to nothing? What a tool.
University was supposed to be an escape. Not just from the mean high school girls and the boring small town you came from, but from him as well. You’d finally be able to breathe without him constantly hovering, you’d finally be able to relax without the constant worry that he was going to do something to ruin it.
So when you walked into your first day of classes at Decalis University, fully expecting to see no one familiar, you can imagine your absolute horror to see him sitting front and center like he owned the place.
He was already making good conversation with your professor, you could tell by how the older man was talking so admittedly with his hands and smiling like he couldn’t get enough of whatever it was Heeseung was talking about.
That’s the thing about Heeseung, everyone around you always seems to think he’s this perfect, charming guy. They don’t see what he really is, not like you do. You seem to be the only person he decides to be his actual evil self with. Why he chose you, you aren’t entirely sure. You don’t think you ever will be.
But that was six months ago, and despite the giant Heeseung shaped stain on your university experience, the entire thing has been significantly better than high school. You don’t see him as much for starters, and when you do he seems too busy to actually try and annoy you. Not for a lack of trying though—those first few months were torture.
You’ve got an eight am class today, which means you have an excuse to make a stop at the coffee shop on campus. It’s right next to your dorm which is insanely convenient and definitely bad for your health, but you're a freshman in college. You don’t think you could name a single person who isn’t surviving off of cheap coffee and gas station noodles.
The line is long, which wouldn’t normally be an issue, but you’re running late and your professors decided he'll dock a letter grade for every tardy. You haven’t had to go through that pain yet, and you really don’t want to change that now.
You rock back and forth on your feet uncomfortably, the line seeming to move slower and slower. You almost consider saying fuck it and just going to class, but then you remember that you’re running off of two hours of sleep and decide you’d rather not fall asleep during your lesson.
It takes another ten minutes before you place your order, and then you’re solemnly waiting off to the side and trying to act like your nerves aren’t tangling up in your stomach.
“Long line, huh?”
You tense. You recognize that voice, and when you look up, the face that accompanies it is enough to ruin your entire morning more than it already has been. So much for not bothering you.
Your eyes narrow, lips curling downwards. At this point, you’re starting to believe your body's natural reaction to Lee Heeseung is immediate disdain. “Why are you talking to me?” You ask bluntly. No point in small talk with him, especially when you know he’s just trying to get under your skin by speaking to you.
He laughs, teeth on display as he does. “Are you this hostile with everyone when you first wake up?”
“Only people who annoy me.”
“I just made an observation, why would that annoy you?”
You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest. He knows exactly what he’s doing–he always has. His innocent act may work on every other person in this university, but not you. You know Heeseung, you know that getting under people's skin is his favorite pastime. You just wish you understood why he loves to do it to you specifically.
“Can you just…not? You know what you’re doing.”
“I promise I don’t.” The smirk threatening to break onto his lips says otherwise.
You take a deep breath and choose not to play into his game anymore. It’s pretty easy actually, because the barista calls out your name and you practically trip over your feet to grab it. You’ve got ten minutes to make it halfway across campus and into your lecture hall before you’re docked an entire letter grade. You’ve made it there with less.
You don’t bother saying goodbye to Heeseung, but you feel his gaze on you as you leave. Your skin prickles from the weight of it, but you don’t have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now. It’s too early for that.
Tonight’s the last game of the football season, which means practically the entire university showed up to the stadium to show their support, if support meant getting drunk off their asses.
You hadn’t planned to go, mostly because sports had never really been your thing, but Yunjin insists you have to come.
“It’ll be fun!” She pleads, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. She grabs your wrist and pulls on it, but you don’t budge from your spot at your desk. You told her that you had a big test to study for and that’s why you couldn’t go. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but you didn’t really need to study, you already knew the material like the back of your hand.
You sigh and pull your arm from her grip, “I can’t do bad on this test, Yunjin. You know what’ll happen if I do.”
“Yes, yes, the big bad Heeseung will score higher than you and your entire life will be ruined. Believe me, I know.” She clicks her tongue and walks behind you so her hands can rest on your shoulders. “But I think Sunghoon would be so sad to see that you didn’t come to support him for his last game.”
You immediately tense, your face going hot and stomach flipping in ways you didn’t know were possible. Even just the mere mention of Park Sunghoon forces a physical reaction out of you. It’s honestly a little embarrassing.
Sunghoon is the kind of boy you read about in romance novels or watch romcoms about. He’s sweet, smart, and the kind of handsome you weren’t aware a person can actually be. And he does it all effortlessly, like being perfect is something he was just born with. It probably was.
It doesn’t help that he’s always going out of his way to talk to you. Study dates, coffee runs after class, texts about nothing in the middle of the night, all things that feel like a relationship but actually aren’t.
Yunjin keeps insisting that you go for it, and you know that it’s probably not going to be as scary as you’re thinking it will be. After all, all it would do is put a title on whatever song and dance it is that the two of you’ve been putting on for the past couple months.
“I doubt he’d notice if I was there or not.” You shrug, doing your best to seem casual and not like the thought of him has hearts forming in your eyes.
Yunjin squeezes your shoulder and spins your chair around so you’re forced to face her. Her red hair is pulled back into a ponytail, her brows furrowed in determination. She looks a little bit like some kind of strange love coach who takes their job way too seriously. “You’re going to this game.” She says firmly.
“I’m not.”
“That’s what you think.”
The stadium is loud, people talking over each other in the hopes their friends will be able to hear them. They don’t, which means people just talk louder. The lights are bright and overwhelming, and you almost feel claustrophobic with how close the seats are to each other, like whoever designed the place did it without any regard for personal space at all.
Yunjin and Jake are on either side of you, both of them way too invested in the game. You are too, but not for the same reasons as them.
Sunghoon got into Decalis on a football scholarship and is the school's best starting quarterback in fifteen years. Even though he has every right to have a big head about it, he’s so humble you don’t think the thoughts ever even crossed his mind. Someone always approaches him about it when you’re out together on campus, and every time without fail his cheeks go bright pink and he gets this bashful smile on his face. It’s one of the reasons you’ve fallen for him as hard as you have, because unlike most guys you’ve interacted with, he doesn’t seem to have much of an ego at all.
It’s a very welcome contrast to Heeseung.
You can see him on the field too, walking behind the players sitting on the bench and getting candid shots of them. Even though you hate admitting it, he’s always been a gifted photographer. His photos were always hanging up in local art shows or featured in your high school yearbooks. Strangely, it’s the only thing he doesn’t brag about, despite it being the only thing he deserves to.
“Oh, that’s bullshit!” Jake yells, popcorn spilling from his lap as he gestures wildly. “That was our play!”
You give him a side-eye and sink further into your seat. You honestly couldn’t care less about this whole thing; you're just excited to see Sunghoon in his post-game glow as you like to call it. Damp hair, face glowing with a sheen of sweat, his chest still heaving from running up and down the field. The entire thing is admittedly your guilty pleasure.
Yunjin elbows your ribs gently, her chin poking out to the field. You follow her gaze and find Sunghoon with his helmet in hand, drinking out of a green gatorade bottle and laughing at something one of his teammates says. He looks perfect. He is perfect.
And if things go right, he’ll be yours.
By the time the game ends, you’re more than ecstatic to finally get out of your seat and see Sunghoon. Yunjin teases you the entire way down, but you barely notice her. Not when your heart is nearly fluttering out of your chest.
But when you get down there, it’s not Sunghoon you see. No, it’s something much worse.
Heeseung.
He doesn’t notice you at first, and you almost think you’ll be able to sneak around him, but then Jake decides it’s a good idea to open his big mouth and alert the enemy to your presence.
“Heeseung!” He calls, raising his hand in a wave. “What’s good, man?”
Heeseung looks up then, sharp eyes falling onto Jake, and slowly trailing over to you. He grins, all teeth and something akin to mischief, and casually makes his way over to your small group.
“Hey Jake,” he greets, jutting his chin out swiftly. “Yunjin.”
Yunjin returns the greeting politely. “Heeseung.”
She has no reason to be mean to him, but as your closest friend, she understands that she must, by international girl-code law, dislike anyone you dislike, which includes him.
He turns to you then, and you swear you see something flash in his eyes. He keeps the same smile on his face despite the way you glare at him. “Hi, Y/N.”
“Hi.” You respond shortly. You don’t know why he even bothers trying to be nice to you in public, especially when he knows you're not going to return whatever sentiment it is he has.
He smirks like you’ve just said the funniest thing in the world. “Would it hurt you to be nicer?”
“Yes,” you respond easily. “It would, actually.”
He frowns and grabs at his shirt dramatically, right over where his heart is. “Always so mean.”
“You’ll live.”
He chuckles, reaching out and roughing up your hair. You smack his hands away and rush to fix it, palms smoothing down the parts he frizzed up. “Don’t do that!”
He ignores you and turns to talk to Jake about the game, and you can hear them say something about how the referees almost cost the team that last quarter, but you aren’t paying attention to that anymore.
Because behind Heeseung you can see a familiar head of damp black hair, thick eyebrows, and a perfect smile.
“Hey guys,” Sunghoon grins as he approaches. He’s ditched his football uniform and is instead wearing a black long sleeved compression shirt, and you swear your brain short circuits at the sight.
His attention falls to you first, just like it always does, and his smile widens just a fraction. Not enough for it to seem like anything else but a friendly gesture, but it doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering out of control or your cheeks from heating to near impossible levels.
“Hey!” You chirp a bit too loudly, hand shooting up in a wave.
“Nice game tonight, man!” Jake gushes, his hands moving animatedly. “The way you got that goal right at the beginning was insane! I swear, Penn didn't even know what hit them.”
Sunghoon grins and brings a hand up to his neck, the way he always does when somebody praises him, like he still can’t quite process the amount of attention on him. “Thanks, Jake. Seriously.”
“Those refs were awful though,” Yunjin throws in.
The three of them end up in conversation about the game, all of them spewing out football lingo that you couldn’t be bothered to understand. Heeseung's still here too, just…lingering.
He’s friends with Jake and Sunghoon, yes, but he’s always on the sidelines. He’s been like that since high school. He’s friends with everyone, but he never lets them in. Doesn’t make any attempts to know them outside of a surface level friendship.
It’s a little sad, honestly. But you stopped questioning the way his brain worked a long time ago. If he wanted to keep to himself, then that was perfectly fine by you.
You don’t notice her approach, not until she’s sliding into the spot next to Sunghoon like she belongs there. Short black hair, bangs that frame her face like she was born with them, big brown eyes. Kim Chaewon is as beautiful as she is smart, and unbelievably kind. Not to mention she’d made cheer captain as a sophomore, and has kept the title all the way into her junior year.
“Hey, Hoon,” she says, voice sweet like honey. You know it shouldn’t, but something twists low and deep in your chest at the way she looks at him. Like she knows him. Like he belongs to her.
You expect him to greet her like he does everyone else. Always polite, but without the extra tenderness he saves for you. Without the small quirk of his lips or the subtle softening of his eyes, because that had always been yours. Your look.
Instead, when he looks at her, his lips quirk up, his eyes soften, and he snags a hand around her waist like he can’t imagine it being anywhere else.
You think this must be a joke. Not a very funny one, but a joke nonetheless. A tasteless prank. Because there is no way Park Sunghoon—the same Park Sunghoon that calls you in the middle of the night and insists he walk you home from class—has his arm around Kim Chaewon and is giving her the same look he gives you.
Yunjin looks just as shocked as you feel, but she’s never been as good at having a poker face as you. Her jaw drops, eyes going wide as she stares at the pair of them. “Um,” she laughs uncomfortably, “Sunghoon do you mind maybe… informing us as to who this is?”
Yunjin knows who Chaewon is, you know that. She's doing that thing she does where she tries to indirectly ask someone something without coming off as rude. For once, you're thankful for her weird methods.
Sunghoon clears his throat, his eyes flickering to yours for a split second before they return to Chaewon. “Right, uh,” he swallows, and you watch as his fingers flex at his side. A nervous habit. “This is Chaewon. We’ve been…seeing each other.”
You blink, your mind going a million miles a minute as you try to make sense of what he’s saying. The words are coming out of his mouth, and yet they still feel fake. Like a figment of your worst nightmare where the boy you’re in love with tells you he’s seeing someone.
“Seeing each other?” You repeat, voice raising in pitch.
Chaewon nods, her lips curling up into a shy smile as she places a hand on Sunghoon's chest. “It was a recent development,” she chuckles.
You feel like you’re going to be sick.
Sunghoon smiles at her before removing his arm from her waist so he can gesture at the three of you. “How do you feel about dinner so Chae can get to know you guys? My treat.”
Chae. How long has this been going on for them to already have cute little nicknames for each other?
The thought of sitting at dinner with them sounds like torture. Having to sit there and watch him touch her? Smile at her? You don’t want to sound jealous (you are), but that’s supposed to be you. You’re the one he should be smiling at—you were the one! You can’t wrap your head around how he could suddenly be seeing someone when just last week he was smiling at you like you meant something to him?
Had you imagined it? Convinced yourself there was something there when he was just being friendly? But even Yunjin said he looked at you differently. Was she just feeding into your delusions?
Heeseung's voice pulls you out of your frenzy, and when you look up, he’s looking straight at you like he can read your mind. “Sorry, man,” he says, eyes staying on you for a moment longer before they shift to Sunghoon. “I’ve gotta get these pictures developed before they close the red room.”
Sunghoon waves him off, “don’t worry about it.” He says, “I’ll see you when we get home tonight. What about you guys?”
There’s absolutely no way you’re going to dinner with them. You can’t, like, physically can’t. You think you’ll die if you do.
Instead of saying that, or coming up with some kind of excuse, what comes out is, “I’m free.”
Yunjin's head snaps to you in shock, and then she blurts out a sudden, “same!”
Jake shrugs, “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Great!” Sunghoon grins, “let’s meet at that diner off of fifth? They’re usually open late.”
He walks away after that, hand in hand with Chaewon, and you watch them go while your heart sinks deep into your chest. She’s laughing at something he says, her free hand slapping his arm lightly, and he smiles down at her like she’s the only girl in his universe. The same way you thought he was doing to you.
“Well,” Heeseungs starts, his eyes finding you’d once again, like he can feel the hurt radiating off your body. He probably can. “Since when was that a thing?”
Jake shrugs the way most clueless men do. “No idea.”
The two of them walk away after that, and you’re thankful to be left alone with Yunjin.
“What the fuck?” She says, hands resting on her hips. “That’s gotta be a joke. Or maybe some kind of dare. I don’t fucking know, but there’s no way they’re actually seeing each other! He was literally blowing up your phone two days ago!” She snaps her fingers like she’s made some kind of profound discovery. "It must be some kind of spell. You know, I’ve always thought witches and magic were real–”
“Yunjin,” you interrupt, eyes already glassy and throat closing up with an onslaught of tears. You aren’t going to cry over him–that would be ridiculous, especially since you weren’t even dating, but that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt. If you’re being completely honest, it hurts like hell.
Yunjin notices immediately, and before you can process it, she’s throwing her arms around you and pulling you into her chest in the middle of the field. “I’m sorry, babe,” she sighs, “I really thought he was going to ask you out tonight.”
She’s not the only one.
You just shrug, doing your best to mask your hurt, even though you know there’s no point when it comes to Yunjin. You’ve only known her for six months, yet she’s the only person who can read you like an open book. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” she mumbles, pulling away from you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “But it will be. Because we’re going to show Sunghoon exactly what he missed out on.”
You snort, rolling your eyes and shrugging her off of you so you can make the trek back to your shared dorm. “What are you talking about?”
She shrugs, “you’ll see.”
You should question her. Should refuse to go anywhere with her until she tells you what her plan is, but you don’t do any of that. You trust Yunjin, and you know that while her methods may be strange, she does everything with good intentions. Besides, you doubt you won’t be able to handle whatever it is she’s cooking up.
The diner off of 5th is the only place that stays open after ten pm and still serves edible food. It’s a campus staple, which means it’s nearly always packed—especially after games. So, you aren’t too surprised that you have to weave through multiple bodies just to find the table Sunghoon had managed to snag for the five of you, and nobody comments when it takes you nearly five minutes just to make it from the front door to your seats.
“I’m starving,” Yunjin groans, her tongue swiping over her lips as she flips through the menu. The both of you know she’s just going to get the same thing she does every time, but she says she finds joy in looking unpredictable.
“Me too,” Sunghoon agrees.
He looks good. Tired, but good. His hair is falling over his eyes in that dorky kind of way and he’s wearing his glasses—a rare sight. Normally, you’d be the only one doing this much analysis into his look, but when you glance over at Chaewon, she’s staring at him with a dopey grin on her face.
You frown and look down at your menu. You still don’t understand how this could’ve happened. It just didn’t make any sense. When you take out the part where you’re totally in love with Sunghoon, it still makes no sense for him to hide his apparent relationship with Chaewon. Was it a relationship? Are they even dating? Or are they just in that weird space between where you both know it’s going to happen, but they’re still choosing to dance around it?
You’d thought you were there with Sunghoon. You thought it was only a matter of time before he swept you off of your feet and confessed his love for you with some kind of grand, dramatic gesture.
But your life is clearly not a movie, because Park Sunghoon is reaching for Chaewon's hand under the table. His thumb is rubbing small, comforting circles into her skin, and she’s doing a very bad job at hiding her smile.
You shouldn’t have agreed to come.
Jake, for all his strange qualities, has always been observant (except when it comes to possible romantic partners), and he watches the entire exchange with narrowed eyes and bated breath. You’d never talked to him about your relationship with Sunghoon, but he (along with your nemesis) was the guy's roommate, so you assume he must've known that there was something going on between you. Unless you really are just delusional and everything had been entirely friendly.
“So,” Jake starts, wagging his finger towards the couple. “We’re so glad you’re here, Chaewon. Seriously. But I just can’t believe this is the first I’m hearing about…this. I mean, not to sound like a douche or anything, but I live with Sunghoon and he hasn’t brought you up once. He’s talked about–” his eyes find yours for a fleeting moment, before he clears his throat and tries to pretend it never happened. “It’s just kind of unexpected.”
Chaewon giggles, reaching a hand up and swiping her bangs over her forehead. They fall right back into place. “It was a recent development.”
Yunjin snorts, taking a sip from her cup with the kind of casual confidence you wish you had. “Clearly.”
If anybody catches the irritation in her tone, they don’t comment on it.
“He actually hit me with a football during practice,” Chaewon laughs, bringing her arm up to rest casually behind Sunghoon. You can nearly make out her fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “It was the total opposite of a meet-cute. But it still worked out anyway, because he invited me to coffee as an apology and things just went from there.”
Coffee? He always takes you to coffee. Did they go to the same place you go to? Did he show her the secret menu that’s not really a secret? Did he joke around with your favorite barista like he does when he’s with you?
Your throat feels tight again, but you suck down a gulp from your drink and try to act like you aren’t on the brink of emotional collapse.
Yunjin smiles, but it looks forced. She taps your thigh once, like she’s warning you, but before you can question it, she’s already opening her mouth. “You know, that’s honestly kind of crazy. Two of my friends are getting into relationships at the same time. You’d think I’d get some of that luck too considering I seem to be the common denominator here, but nope!”
You blink. You love Yunjin, you really do, but outside of you the only other person you saw her consistently speak to is her pet gerbil. And even that was leaning into more of a casual situation lately.
Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise briefly, but he’s quick to lower them. “Really?” He mumbles. You can practically feel the curiosity radiating off of him. He’s always been way too nosy. “Who?”
The next few moments are still a bit of a blur in your mind. You remember feeling like someone had spilled a bucket of cold water on you, but when you ran a hand through your hair, it was completely dry.
Yunjin smiles, and she looks so innocent you almost believe the lie that rolls off of her tongue like honey. You probably would’ve if it didn't have to do with you. “[Y/N], you’ve been seeing someone recently as well, haven’t you?”
You nearly choke, eyes widening into saucers. You splutter for an answer, blinking rapidly as you do. “What? A relationship? I don’t–well, I mean–maybe–?” It’s not until Yunjin sends a swift heel to your shin do you manage to get out a full sentence. “Yes,” you squeak. “I have been…seeing someone. It’s very recent. Very new. Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are that it happened so quickly.”
The table goes silent for a moment, and you suddenly feel very, very exposed. You know Yunjin knows you’re a terrible liar, she witnessed it firsthand when you tried to lie about eating her leftover cheesecake, and yet she thought making you lie in a group setting would make your skills any better? If anything, it just made them ten times worse!
You’re waiting for the inevitable–for someone to give an uncomfortable laugh before attempting to move the conversation forward. Meanwhile, you’re going to pray to whatever is listening up in the sky for the floor to swallow you whole and for this day to have never happened.
But that doesn’t happen. Instead, the next few moments are probably the most confusing of your life.
“That’s good, [Y/N],” Sunghoon says, smiling at you the way he does with everyone else. It’s not the smile you’re used to. Not the curl of his lips that would send butterflies fluttering around in your stomach and make your cheeks burst with color. This one is practiced, easy. Entirely wrong. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
You pale, parting your lips to give some shitty excuse. Maybe your delivery man? You met when he was dropping off your amazon vibrator and he complimented you on the brand. A very plausible start to any college relationship, and it’d be easy to hide considering he’s not real.
But before you can tell your made-up story, Yunjin beats you to the punch.
“Oh, you’re going to lose your mind. I know I did when she told me.” She laughs aloud, and when her eyes find yours, you suddenly wish you’d never even gotten out of bed this morning. Maybe finishing the course with a B wouldn’t have been so bad if it meant you got to avoid this terrible fate.
She leans forward on the table, lowering her voice into that soft teasing tilt she’s perfected. “She’s been seeing your other roommate. The one she apparently can’t stand.”
Jake’s eyes widen, his hands slamming on the table so he can lean against them and get a better look at you. He practically screams when he asks, “you’ve been seeing Heeseung?”
You should’ve just taken the dock off of your grade.
“Yunjin, do not come near me right now or I swear to God you’re going to be missing chunks of hair.”
She winces, hands immediately tugging on the red strands. “Anything but the hair! You know it’s my best feature.” She attempts to joke, but you’re having absolutely none of it.
“You realize they live with him, right? What happens when they ask him about his apparent relationship with me?” You snap, slamming the door to your dorm behind you. The walk here had been completely silent—or, at least, it had been from your end. Yunjin spent the entire time trying to act like she hadn’t just lied to all of your friends that you were dating Lee Heeseung. The one person in this world everyone knows you cannot stand.
She flops onto her bed and stretches her arms over her head. “They’re guys! They don’t talk about that kind of stuff. Jake didn’t even know Sunghoon was seeing Chaewon! Which, can we talk about that, actually? I mean, seriously, what the fuck? One second he’s taking you on these cute little dates and the next—”
“Yunjin,” you groan, rubbing the heels of your palm into your eyes. You’re absolutely exhausted, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can talk about Sunghoon without your head wanting to explode. “As much as I’d love to talk about Sanghoon's sparkling love life and my lack of one, I’ve got a nine am tomorrow that I’d rather not have to sleep through because I stayed up all night talking about my nonexistent love life.”
She nods, a small smile on her lips. "No, yeah, of course. But, before you become dead to the world, you’re actually kind of wrong about something.”
“What?”
“Your love life isn’t nonexistent,” she says thoughtfully. “You’re seeing Heeseung, remember?”
You throw the pillow at her so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t mold to her face.
You’ve always enjoyed your nine am literacy analysis lecture. After all, you’re an English major. Literacy analysis is kind of your whole thing.
The only part of the class that is mildly annoying is the fact that you share it with Heeseung. But, surprisingly, he rarely ever bothers you. You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s finally matured and realized it’s stupid to bother you during lecture, or if he’d just gotten bored of the entire thing. Either way, you’d be perfectly fine with whatever the answer was as long as it kept him away from you.
Today though, your nerves are practically fried. Does he know? Did he expose you? You don’t know why he would lie for you, and honestly, you don’t expect him to. He probably laughed out loud before Sunghoon and Jake even asked him about it.
God, you love Yunjin, you really do, but right now you wish she’d stayed home with her gerbil last night. Maybe that way she wouldn’t have been able to open her big mouth.
You don’t look at Heeseung when you enter. You don’t even look in his general direction. You just keep your head down and try to look as normal as possible through the lecture, which is exceptionally difficult when your mind is buzzing with so much nervous energy it could power the entire university.
The usual hour seems to pass by in a blur, and when your professor releases you for dismissal, you’re quick to pack your bags and make a swift exit. You're practically out of breath by the time you make it outside, but you’re relieved you managed to get out without having to make any contact with Heeseung. You aren’t sure you would’ve been able to survive the embarrassment.
You pull the strap of your bag further up your shoulder and pull out your phone, fully ready to call Yunjin and complain to her about the mess she’s gotten you into, but a call of your name forces your head up.
Heeseung makes his way over to you casually, a backwards baseball cap covering up his dirty blonde hair and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He isn’t giving you that usual teasing smile he always wears when he sees you, instead he looks unusually serious.
You tense, pulse pounding in your ears and alarm bells ringing in your head. You have half the mind to turn and make a run for it, but he reaches you before your feet can move.
“Hi,” he says simply. Casually. Like he’s talking to a friend and asking about the weather.
You hesitate, but return the greeting nonetheless. “...Hi.”
He cracks a smile, but scrunches his nose before it reaches his eyes and his lips fall back down into a straight line. “We need to talk.”
Your blood turns to ice, skin paling before you can stop it. He knows. And if he knows that means he told everyone the truth, and he’s probably already told the entire campus about your stupid lie as well. You’re going to be known as the girl who lied about being in a relationship because she couldn't accept that the boy she likes has a girlfriend, and then you're going to have to transfer somewhere else and start going by a new name.
God, you are going to kill Yunjin. It’ll be like a final goodbye before you’re forced to move across the country.
You shake your head immediately. “No, uh, we don’t actually. I already know what you’re going to say, so I’ll just start packing my things now. No need for this awkward rejection or whatever–not that I’m being rejected by you. God, I’d rather die before I go out with you. But, Yunjin has a big mouth and I never know how to stop her before she says something stupid, so now my social life is totally dead and–”
You’re rambling so fast it takes a moment for you to register that Heeseung's laughing, and even longer to realize that he’s laughing at you. His shoulders shake from the force of it, and the back of his hand comes up to cover his mouth. If this was anyone else, you might even think he looked cute.
You swallow, unable to help the pout that forms on your lips. “And now you’re laughing at me.”
“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, taking in a deep breath and trying to find some composure. “It’s just…you’ve always been really good at jumping to conclusions.”
Your brows furrow, mouth parting as you try to process his words. What does he mean you’re good at jumping to conclusions? Why does he always talk like he knows anything about you? You know they shouldn’t, but the words tick you off. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugs, lips curving up into that smile you’ve unfortunately become way too familiar with. The one that screams trouble and always means he’s up to no good. “I have to admit, I was pretty surprised when Jake grilled me for half an hour last night on our apparent relationship–” you visibly wince, but he ignores it and continues– “but, I thought to myself, why on earth would [Y/N] [L/N] tell our friends we were in a relationship? I figured you had to have a reason, so I went along with it.”
Your jaw drops, eyes blinking a mile a minute like maybe that’ll help everything make sense. Newsflash, it doesn’t–if anything it just makes everything feel ten times more confusing. “You what?”
He shrugs, “you have a reason, right? Otherwise, we just became a couple for no reason. Unless that’s what you wanted? Was this whole thing just an elaborate scheme to get with me?” His voice drops an octave, and he takes a step closer, until suddenly he’s in your space and you can smell the fresh linen from his detergent and his cedarwood cologne. “You know, princess, if you wanted to be with me, all you had to do was ask.”
You might be extremely confused right now, but you’ve got enough sense to know that the last thing you want in your life is to be in a real relationship with him. And you definitely don’t want him calling you princess.
You take a step back, your arms coming up to put space between the two of you. “Ew, no, absolutely not. Like I said, I’d rather die before I dated you.”
He hums, shoving his hands back in his pockets and beginning to walk away. “Okay. I’ll just go tell Jake and Sunghoon that you lied then–”
Your hand shoots out and wraps around his arm before you can stop yourself, and you feel the muscle tense up beneath your fingertips. He stills, his head tilting as he looks back at you.
You swallow, taking your pride down with the saliva. “I’m sorry,” you sigh out, “I just don't know how to go about this without sounding like a total loser.”
His lips curve up and he turns so he’s facing you fully. “You’re going to sound like a loser to me no matter what, so just tell me.”
You glower, your hand dropping back to your side. You try to ignore the warmth lingering in your palm as it balls up at your side. “I’ve had a thing for this guy–”
He nods. “Sunghoon, right?”
Is it really that obvious? You narrow your eyes, “How’d you know? Did he say something about me?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I’ve seen the way you follow each other like lost puppies. I’ve gotta admit, I was surprised when he popped out with Chaewon and not you.”
You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. If even Heeseung, the one person you absolutely cannot stand, could see that there was something between you and Sunghoon, then that must mean you aren’t delusional. But, on the other hand, it makes you wonder what made Sunghoon change his mind so quickly.
Were you trying to take things too slow? Did he get bored of the waiting? You thought the dancing around each other was sweet, but maybe he was looking at it differently. Maybe he just got sick of waiting around for you.
Heeseung must notice how your thoughts have wandered, because he waves a hand in front of your face and raises his brows. “You still with me?”
Your eyes snap to him and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry, um, as I was saying, I’ve had a thing for him for a while. So, when he took us to dinner with Chaewon last night, Yunjin had this bright idea to say that I was also in a relationship with…you. And the whole thing just kind of spiraled from there.”
He’s silent for a moment, like he’s processing your words. “She said we were dating to make Sunghoon jealous? How does that work?”
You groan and run a hand over your face. “I don’t know! I don’t know what she was thinking! I’ve already yelled at her over it!” You feel your frustration building again, but you take a deep breath and force it down. “It was stupid. And now you’re dragged into this entire mess and I don’t know how I’m going to tell everyone the truth.”
There are a lot of things you dislike about Heeseung. He’s rude in that passive aggressive kind of way, and he only ever does it to you. He always forgets a pen and never gives yours back when you lend one to him. He’s wildly selfish and thinks that the entire world revolves around him. He also always manages to catch you by surprise, and you absolutely loathe surprises.
Today is no exception.
His lips part in thought, and for the first time you can actually see him thinking about what he’s going to say before he says it. Usually, he just blurts out whatever's on his mind and deals with the consequences later.
“What if…” he hesitates for a moment. “What if you didn’t tell them?”
“What?”
He splutters for a moment, a nervous laugh bubbling from his lips. “I just mean, what if we let everyone think we’re dating? Not that we actually date. That would be…awful.”
“Why would we do that, though?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not like me having a boyfriend is going to change Sunghoon's mind. And what would you even get out of it aside from undeniable blackmail material?”
He shrugs, “actually Sunghoon looked pretty distraught last night. He kept asking me about you and our budding relationship.”
Your heart skips a beat at that. He was asking about you? It shouldn't affect you like it does, especially when he’s got a girlfriend, but the thought of him thinking about you has butterflies flying around your stomach.
Still, it doesn’t explain why Heeseung would want to help you. He’s never gone out of his way to do it before, so you don’t see why he would now.
“But, what do you get out of this?” You ask, pointing a wary finger at him. “You’ve never been nice enough to actually help me before.”
He scoffs, “first off, that's not true. What about that science project we did Junior year? The one with the ant colony? I partnered up with you after Stella got that weird illness.”
“You mean the ant colony you released into Mrs. Hong's room? She made us deep clean the room every day for, like, two weeks. And Stella had pneumonia.”
“Yeah, but that was after we’d already gotten an A.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
He sighs and pulls out a creme folder from his bag. He taps it once and hands it to you. You accept it questioningly, looking up at him through your lashes with suspicion. “What is this?”
“My portfolio,” he explains. Just as he said, when you open it there's what you think must be hundreds of photos. Some of nature, some of the people on campus, some of just random mundane things. They’re all breathtaking shots, and it's then that you remember he’s here on a full scholarship after winning some national photography contest. It’d been the only thing he talked about for weeks.
You knew he was going to win the moment it was announced.
“Wow,” you mumble, continuing to flip through the photos. “These are amazing.”
He brings a hand up to his neck and scratches at it nervously. “Thanks.”
One picture captures your attention. It’s a candid shot of Sunghoon in class, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, eyebrows tucked in that adorable way they always are when he’s frustrated. The people around him are blurry, and you assume they’re getting their stuff for dismissal.
“The photography committee on campus is holding a competition,” he continues, “$100,000 and your pictures are featured in international art shows. But, in order to enter, I need a muse. Someone I can get consistent pictures of. If we’re “dating”, no one will question why I’m constantly taking pictures of you, and it saves me the hassle of having to ask anyone else.”
You raise a brow. He wants to be in a fake couple so that he can take pictures of you for a contest? It doesn’t feel like a fair trade to you at all. “Why don’t you ask Jake or Sunghoon? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
He gives you a fixed look. “I already did, but they both claimed they were too busy. You’re my last resort before I start asking random people on campus.”
The explanation still feels weird to you, but you aren’t going to fight him anymore on it. Besides, you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’re now in a fake relationship with public enemy number one.
“So…what now?” You ask, closing the folder and handing it back to him. He takes it with steady hands, and when his fingers brush yours, there’s a solid five seconds where your breath catches in your throat and you almost forget about everything you dislike about Heeseung.
“Jay Park’s having a party tomorrow night,” he breathes, lips turning up into that awful smile. “Beer. Dancing. Maybe some weed. Sunghoon and Chaewon will definitely be there, which means you and I will also be there.”
Your nose scrunches at the thought. You’d only gone to one party so far, and the entire experience had been so awful you’d sworn them off completely.
“I don’t really do parties,” you mumble.
Heeseung snorts like that’s the understatement of the century. “We won't stay for long. Just long enough for Sunghoon to see us, and then we’ll go.”
You nod, and the air between the two of you suddenly feels heavy. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and your eyes fall to the floor. “Thank you,” you say sincerely. “For helping me.”
He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease. Just nods casually like fake dating people is something he does daily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, princess.”
You really need to tell him to stop calling you that.
When you tell Yunjin, she doesn’t even try to act surprised. “I knew it would work out,” she says confidently, staring at a pimple in her reflection. “That's why I said it in the first place.”
You roll your eyes, fingers moving over your keyboard rapidly. You need to finish up your analysis paper before the deadline next week, but every time you sit down to write your brain wanders to dirty blonde hair and that annoyingly perfect smile.
“Whatever.” You mumble, “he’s expecting me to go to some party with him tomorrow night, but I don’t know. I really need to finish this paper, and the last time we went to a party I got so drunk I collided with the wall.”
Yunjin snorts at the memory, and then she’s standing and making her way over to you. She sits crisscrossed on your bed and ever-so-gently forces your laptop closed. You don’t argue with her, it’s not like you were getting anything done anyway.
“So, your fake boyfriend–who by the way, is super hot–is asking you to go to a party with him, and you don’t want to because you’d rather stay at home and analyze Edgar Allen Poe?” She asks, drawing out the sentence so you feel completely and utterly stupid.
“It’s not Edgar Allen Poe,” you mutter, “and, I don’t know, this entire thing just feels so insane! Like, what am I hoping happens? Sunghoon realizes he’s actually in love with me and breaks up with Chaewon?”
“Exactly that, yes.” Yunjin nods, like it’s obvious.
You shoot her a glare. “That’s not fair to either of them. If they’re happy, why should I try to ruin that?”
Yunjin sighs, her hands reaching out to grab yours. She brings them into her lap and squeezes them comfortingly. “If they’re happy, then you being in a relationship with Heeseung isn’t going to matter. But you said he asked about you, right? That means he still cares at least a little bit, and if that’s the case, then it’s not fair to Chaewon for him to stay with her.” She smiles softly, her shoulders bobbing as she shrugs them. “I don’t know what he’s doing right now, but I know that there was something going on between the two of you. And if you care about him, you shouldn’t let that go without a fight.”
When she wanted to, Yunjin could give some seriously killer advice. Your lips curve up, chest feeling lighter and mind not so hazy. “Thanks, Yunjin. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Die, probably.”
You laugh loudly, throwing your head back with it. “Yeah,” you agree, “probably.”
The next night, your nerves are absolutely shot. Heeseung texted you that he’d pick you and Yunjin up from your dorm at seven, which meant you’d spent the entire day stressed out of your mind.
Sunghoon was going to be there, that much was obvious, but the thought of parading yourself around with Heeseung in front of him makes you feel sick. For one, he knows you. He’s always been able to see right through you, and you have half the mind to think he’ll make your little lie before you even step through the door.
You suck in a breath, your hands smoothing out the sides of your skirt. The dress Yunjin lent you is a lot shorter than anything you’re used to wearing, and the black cloth hugs your curves in a way you’re not entirely used to seeing on yourself. Your heels force your back to arch, highlighting the curve of your spine and the plump of your ass.
You give yourself a once-over in the mirror, hands coming down to tug the fabric further down your thighs. “Are you sure this isn’t too much?” You ask.
Yunjin clicks her tongue, and you can see her fighting with the straps of her own dress through the mirror. “Absolutely not. You look amazing. The guys are going to lose their minds when they see you in that.”
You raise a brow and turn around to face her. “Guys? Like, plural?”
“Well, yeah,” she shrugs, “Sunghoon and Heeseung.”
Sunghoon, yes. You’d love for him to notice you. But Heeseung? Absolutely not. You could seriously care less about what he thinks about you. He was there when you didn’t understand how to get rid of your acne and when makeup was more of a suggestion then something you actually did everyday.
“Ew, no,” you gag, “I don’t care what Lee Heeseung thinks about me. The only reason he’s even helping me is for his portfolio or whatever. He’s not doing it out of the kindness of his heart.”
Yunjin hums, smoothing out her dress and giving herself one final look over in the vanity mirror. She looks amazing–she always does. You aren’t jealous of Yunjin, but sometimes you wonder what it’d be like to have her confidence. “You seriously think he’s doing this just for his portfolio?”
“Um, yeah. That’s what he said.”
She walks over to you then, her chin resting on your shoulder. “I think–and don’t go nuclear on me for this–but I think he likes you. Like, like-likes you.”
A laugh bursts from your chest. That is the single most absurd thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Heeseung can barely stand being in the same room as you without having to get under your skin. He doesn’t like you, he just enjoys pissing you off.
“You’re funny,” you snort, “and so insanely wrong.”
She shrugs and takes a step back from you. “I don’t know, [Y/N]. I don’t know many guys who get into fake relationships with people they dislike just so they can finish their portfolio.”
Your phone buzzes from your bed, and when you pick it up you’ve got a text message from Heeseung saying he’s here.
“You don’t know many guys in general, Yunjin.” You retort. You quickly grab your purse and stuff your phone inside. “He’s here. Don’t say anything weird in the car, please. I think you’ve embarrassed me enough in the last two days to last a lifetime.”
“No promises,” she winks.
Heeseung's car isn’t super nice. It’s pretty typical for any college student, actually. There’s a scratch on the passenger side door and a dent on the hood, and it looks like it could definitely use a round through the car wash. But, despite that, the sight of it makes you nostalgic.
You remember when he pulled into your first day of Junior year with this thing. He bragged about it to anyone who would listen. He’d saved up the entire summer to buy it, and he treated the run down thing like it was his pride and joy. You wonder if that’s still the case today.
He’s leaning against your door when you step outside. Dirty blonde hair, backwards baseball cap, that same fucking smile. The sight alone is enough to irritate you.
But there’s a brief moment where the smile falters. His eyes trail over you, all the way from your heels to your eyes, and you swear you see his ears go the lightest shade of pink.
You raise a brow, but before you can comment on it the smile is back and he’s acting like nothing happened. “Nice dress,” he clicks his tongue, “I didn’t think you owned anything that didn’t look like it came from a librarian's closet.”
You hate him. You hate him so much it hurts your soul. It envelops your being like an ugly monster.
You want to tell him that, but you don’t, because at the end of the day he’s helping you for whatever reason, and your mother told you that hating people was inherently wrong. So, you swallow down your annoyance and make your way to his car. “Can we try and go one night without you being a dick?”
“I don’t know,” he smirks, “you’re the one dating this dick, princess.”
You frown and try not to think about the double meaning behind his words. “Fake dating,” you correct.
“Right. Fake dating.”
The tension between you is thick, and not in the way you’re used to. Instead, this feels like some sort of gravitational pull towards him. Something you’d kept buried that is trying to dig its way back from the grave.
Yunjin groans behind you. You’d nearly forgotten she was here. “God, can you guys just fuck already and get it over with? Your sexual tension is starting to make me jealous.”
“Yunjin!” You practically screech. Your hands gesture wildly as you attempt to defend yourself. “This is not–there is no sexual tension! That’s not what this is!”
She gives you a look that says: don’t make me call bullshit.
You sigh and run a hand over your eyes. “Just get in the car.”
The party is just outside of campus, in Jay Park's two-story home that he mysteriously pays for by himself. (Everyone knows he’s a trust fund baby.) There’s some stragglers outside, all holding red solo cups and trying to act drunker than they really are. You’ve never understood the appeal for parties. To you, they just look like sweat fests that people gaslight themselves into thinking are fun.
Yunjin gets out of the car as soon as you pull up and quickly makes her way over to some guy by the front door. You watch as she tries to talk to him, and for once he doesn’t look intimidated by her outgoing nature. It’s kind of cute, actually.
You, on the other hand, feel a bit sick. For one, you don’t know what you’re going to do when you see Sunghoon. Is he even going to care? Probably not. He literally has a fucking girlfriend, and here you are trying to show off for him like that’ll change anything.
“Hey,” Heeseung murmurs from beside you, his eyebrows knitted together in what you think might be concern. “You good?”
You blink. “I don’t know.” It’s the most honest thing you’ve said all night.
He’s silent for a moment, before he’s letting out a breath and turning to you. “You look good, [Y/N]. Really fucking good. Don’t let a dress like that go to waste because you’re in your head.” He emphasizes his point with a gentle tap to your forehead. “Let’s go in there and show Sunghoon exactly what he lost, yeah?”
You feel your cheeks heat at the compliment, but you force the words to the back of your mind to be dwelled on later. Right now, you just need to get out of this car and get through tonight without wanting to explode. And, honestly, you do want to show Sunghoon what he’s missing out on.
“Okay,” you nod.
He grins. “Okay.”
Inside, the party is practically buzzing with people. There’s a few people you recognize, but it’s mostly randoms that you didn’t even realize you went to school with. That’s the thing about college; you’re always meeting someone new. Your high school was the complete opposite of that–you knew everyone in your graduating class on a personal level.
Heeseung keeps a hand on your lower back the entire time, and for some reason, you’re grateful for the subtle comfort it gives you. Like it’s a reminder that he’s here and that you aren’t going into this mess alone.
You eventually make your way over to the drinks, and Heeseung grabs a can of alcohol for himself and water for you. You raise a brow as he hands it to you. You hadn’t planned to drink, but him handing you water makes you feel like he’s treating you like some little kid.
“Actually,” you clear your throat, pointing towards the other beer can on top of the ice, “I’ll have that.”
He looks caught off guard for a moment, but then he shrugs and hands the can over to you. You open it with a pop and immediately take a swig. It goes down like tar against your tongue, and your nose scrunches in disgust.
He chuckles, “sure you don’t want the water?”
You really do. “I’m sure.”
Your eyes search the crowd for Sunghoon, and sure enough he’s here. He’s playing beer pong with some of his friends from the football team, and Chaewon is at his side cheering every time he scores. They look perfect for each other, and your heart squeezes painfully at the sight. Your hands shake as you take another gulp of your beer.
Heeseung taps your waist once, before he’s tugging you into his side and pulling you towards the dance floor. Alarm bells ring in your head as you weave through the crowd. You can’t dance, anytime you’ve tried you’ve embarrassed yourself so bad you’ve debated never showing your face in public again.
“Heeseung,” you attempt, “I can’t dance!”
“Neither can anyone else here. Besides, we can’t just sit in the corner and expect Sunghoon to care. If he’s having a good time, you need to be having an even better one.” He says easily.
You scoff as he comes to a stop in the middle of the floor, directly in Sunghoon's line of sight. Heeseung has always been able to make confidence look easy–like it’s something he was born with. You, on the other hand, are not like that. Your movements are awkward and you fumble to find a rhythm that doesn’t make you look like you’re on the verge of collapse.
“Wow,” he laughs, whistling lowly when you nearly trip over your own feet. “You weren’t kidding.”
Your eyes narrow as embarrassment flushes your cheeks. “I told you! God, I’m going back to the drinks–”
Before you can walk away, he catches your wrist with his hand and pulls you back towards him. Your chest nearly collides with his, and his face is suddenly so close you can practically taste his breath on yours.
“I’m not making fun of you, princess.” He murmurs, his hands sliding up to rest on your hips, “just…observing.”
His voice is right beside your ear, and the proximity makes your body feel like it’s on fire. Suddenly, the room is too small and all you can think about is him. Sunghoon is a thought so distant in your mind you nearly forget you’d ever been thinking about him in the first place.
He brings his lips to your ear, his grip on your hips tightening the smallest bit. You wonder if he’s able to hear your heartbeat. If he can, does he know it’s beating so rapidly because of him?
“He’s looking,” he murmurs into your hair.
The call back to reality feels like a bucket of ice water against your spine. If Heeseung notices the way you tense, he doesn’t comment on it.
You clear your throat and try to ignore the way your voice shakes. “He is?”
“He was,” he grumbles with a click of his tongue. He pulls back so you can see his eyes, and for a moment you think he almost looks as wrecked as you feel. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Your eyes widen and you nearly choke on your own spit. “What?”
You barely have time to process before he’s bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, the other sliding to your spine and pulling you impossibly closer. You’re so close your noses are nearly touching, and his cedarwood cologne feels like it’s enveloping all of your senses.
“Trust me, okay?” He murmurs.
Later, you’ll say you don’t know how it happened. You’ll tell Yunjin that it all happened so fast and that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He was just helping you get Sunghoon's attention.
But the truth–the truth is that you want him to kiss you. You want him to take your breath away and for his hands to hold you like he’s afraid he’ll die without you.
And that scares you.
All you can manage is one simple word. “Okay.”
And then his mouth is on yours.
The kiss is awkward at first, more a peck than anything else, but he slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you closer and suddenly his tongue is in your mouth and he’s kissing you like you’re something precious.
Your hands slide to his chest instinctively, fists balling up the fabric of his shirt between your fingers. His breath mingles with yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth like you’re the best thing he’s tasted in years.
You can’t help the whine that slides from his lips when he pulls away, your own lips chasing his without your permission. It’s like your body's an addict and he’s your drug of choice.
Heeseung's lips are swollen and his pupils are completely blown, but you doubt you look much better. His tongue darts out to swipe at his lower lip, and then he’s smiling at you. But it’s not the teasing smile you’re used to or the one he gives everyone else. It’s softer. Real.
Your lips part to say something, anything, but then your thoughts go back to Sunghoon and what comes out instead is a soft, “did he see?”
Heeseungs smile immediately drops, and something akin to disappointment flashes over his face. You don’t know why the sight makes you cringe internally.
He glances up and nods his head. “Yeah,” he says, using his grip on your hips to turn you around, “he definitely saw.”
When you look, Sunghoon’s cheeks are pink and he’s staring directly at you. When he sees you looking, he’s quick to avert his gaze and try to act casually, but you know Sunghoon. He’s jealous.
This is a complete win.
So, why don’t you care as much as you should?
You should be ecstatic that Sunghoon’s feeling a certain way towards you. That’s the whole point of this stupid deal–to get Sunghoon back.
But when you turn back around and look at Heeseung, all you can think about is the way he smiled at you like you meant something to him. And how you hope he does it again.
It’s been a week since the kiss. A full week of acting like a couple. Holding hands on campus, cheek kisses in class, coffee dates at the cafe you used to frequent with Sunghoon.
It’s…weird. Somewhere along the way, you stopped hating Heeseung's general presence. Instead of a nemesis, he’s managed to turn himself into someone you don’t really mind having around. A frenemy, maybe. He’s funny, something you never cared enough to notice before, and he’s got this soft side to him that makes your heart melt the smallest bit.
“So,” Yunjin grins, taking a bite of her ramen. “Any word from Sunghoon?”
Your mouth goes dry at the mention of your apparent crush. In truth, you hadn't really thought about him at all. You used to go to sleep imagining it was Sunghoon next to you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and holding you like you were something fragile.
Now when you close your eyes at night, all you can think about is the way Heeseung's mouth felt against yours. The way his hands gripped your hips and held you close to him.
It takes everything in you to remember that Sunghoon is the goal. You’re just feeling this way because Heeseung kissed you. Once you have Sunghoon, you’ll get over it completely.
“Um,” you mumble, sinking further into your blankets, “not yet. But Heeseung said he saw him looking at us in the coffee shop the other day. That’s good, right?”
She turns to you, her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “It is. So why don’t you sound more excited?”
You immediately go on the defensive. “I am excited! I’m just…tired right now. It’s late, and I’ve been up since seven.”
“Whatever you say.”
In truth, you aren’t that excited. It’s nice that he’s thinking about you. It’s the entire reason you and Heeseung are doing this anyway. So why can you not bring yourself to care more?
Your phone buzzes next to you, and you have to dig through your sheets to find it. When you do, the screen is lit up with a message from Heeseung.
Hey, it reads, got time to take some photos tomorrow? There’s this park just a little off campus that I think would be a good spot.
Right. The portfolio. You’d been so busy with yourself you nearly forgot you were supposed to be helping him as well.
Sure, you reply, what time?
It doesn’t take long for him to respond. I’ll pick you up at eleven. Wear something nice, please.
You heart the message and set your phone down. You aren’t sure what something nice is supposed to entail, but you’ll do your best.
The next morning, you’re waiting outside your dorm in an outfit that you deemed appropriate for the park while also being cute. It isn’t something you usually wear–the long skirt feels restricting and the jean vest is more form-fitting then you thought it would be, but Yunjin swore up and down that you looked great, so you’re choosing to believe her.
You rock back and forth on your feet while you wait, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. Heeseung is never late, but today seems to be an exception to that.
You sigh, ready to turn around and go wait in your dorm, but the sound of your name catches you off guard.
When you look over, Sunghoon is walking over to you. He must’ve been on a run, because his arms are on full display in his sleeveless tank top. Usually, the sight would send your mind reeling. But now you barely even glance towards them.
“Hi, Sunghoon.”
He nods, coming to a stop a few feet in front of you. He’s close enough for you to see the moles on his face, but far enough that you can’t smell his usual expensive cologne. A complete opposite of Heeseungs soft cedarwood and linen.
Why the fuck are you thinking about Heeseungs cologne right now?
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he says shyly, eyebrows knit together. “I’ve…missed hanging out with you.”
Your heart skips a beat, but for all the wrong reasons.
“Sorry,” you murmur with a shrug. “I’ve just been super busy lately. You know how it gets.” It’s not a lie, you have been busy. Just…busy with Heeseung.
He pauses, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He looks like he’s contemplating his next words, which is something you’ve never seen him do. It hurts a bit that your relationship has turned into this. Just a month ago the thought of ignoring Sunghoon would’ve seemed unfathomable. Both of you being in separate relationships (given yours is fake) would’ve been a complete joke. And yet here you are, talking like complete strangers.
“Yeah,” he says eventually, the words quiet and hesitant. “I’ve seen you and Heeseung around campus. I was a little surprised, honestly.”
Your response is dry. Bordering on the edge of annoyance. “Yeah. So was I.”
You both know you’re not talking about Heeseung. For a moment, he almost looks regretful.
“[Y/N]-”
“Hey.”
You didn’t even notice Heeseung's beat up Honda pull onto your street, nor notice him walk out of it. He’s dressed casually in a Decalis University sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. His camera hangs off his neck and rests against his stomach, and his hand instinctively hovers over it as he approaches.
Relief floods your chest at the sight of him. You don’t know why. It must be some kind of hormonal thing.
Sunghoon takes a step back like he’s trying to put up an invisible wall between you. The two live together, and yet the tension radiating off of them makes you wonder what their living situation must be like right now. Jake must be in a constant state of stress.
“You’re late,” you murmur.
Heeseung smiles, his hand reaching for yours and pulling your wrist to his mouth. He leaves a soft kiss on your inner wrist, and your cheeks flare at the gesture.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against your skin. “Traffic.”
You fold immediately. “It’s fine. I was just worried.”
Sunghoon must sense that he’s no longer wanted, because he murmurs a soft goodbye and makes a swift exit. You watch as he jogs away, his forming growing smaller and smaller, and it doesn’t hurt like it used to. It just feels like…nothing. You look back to Heeseung, and any tension you had melts.
“What was that about?” He asks.
You shrug. “Was just saying hello.”
“And?”
You raise a brow. “And what?”
“Did he say anything about me? About our relationship?”
Oh. Right. You’re in love with Sunghoon.
“Oh,” you clear your throat and attempt to act like you hadn’t completely forgotten your deal. “Yeah, he did. I think he’s jealous, but he’s still with Chaewon, so does it even really matter?”
“Trust me, it does.” He snorts, leading you over to his car. “He was talking to Jake last night about how he apparently isn’t feeling any sparks with Chaewon. He wants to break up with her.”
That’s good. That’s what you wanted. You should be ecstatic and your heart should be fluttering in your chest. Instead, all you feel is a cold pang of disappointment.
“Good! That's great. Amazing, even.” You say, attempting to sound the littlest bit excited, but it just comes off flat and dull. Like you’re talking about an assignment and not the boy you’ve been in love with for months.
He gives you a side-eye as he opens the passenger door for you, and you slip in like it’s second nature. At this point, it is. “You don’t sound too excited,” he observes.
You’re not, but you can’t say that. “I’m just shocked, I guess. I don’t understand why he even got with Chaewon in the first place if he didn’t feel anything for her. It’s kind of…mean.”
Heeseung takes a second to respond as he climbs into the driver's seat. He wordlessly hands you his phone and lets you put on your playlist–something you hadn’t even realized was an option. You play Ariana Grande and watch as Heeseung tries to act like he doesn’t enjoy it.
“Sunghoons always been like that,” he says eventually. “He’s impulsive. Doesn’t think about what he’s doing until he’s regretting it and trying to act like he’s not.”
“Why?”
Heeseung shrugs, glancing at you from the corner of his eye for a split second before going back to the road. “Don’t know. It’s just how he is.”
You chew at the inside of your cheek and look out the window. The campus passes by in a blur, people walking to class together, pigeons scavenging for any scraps they can get, the lecture hall you walk to every morning. It’s familiar. Comfortable.
You look back to Heeseung, and instead of annoyance, you get the same feeling you do when you’re looking at campus. Familiarity. Comfort. And it scares you so much your throat nearly constricts.
“Well,” you croak, running a hand through your hair, “that’s stupid. And all it does is hurt the people around him.”
“Yeah,” he agrees softly, “it does.”
You don’t talk the rest of the car ride, and you’re thankful for it. Your mind is too alert for conversation right now. You can smell his cologne, can hear him humming along to Needy by Ariana Grande, can feel his presence consuming your very soul. It’s too much. It’s not enough.
You don’t hate Lee Heeseung. Because your mother used to say that hate was just another word for love, and that is the last thing you feel for the boy you grew up with.
When you arrive at the park, you’re entirely too eager to get out of the car. You barely wait for him to park before you’re practically stumbling out of your seat with the ordinance of a baby giraffe.
Heeseung gives you a look, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just directs you to where he wants to go with confidence. His hand hovers at your lower back–never touching–just there. Like he’s unsure of what to do with himself when you’re not around your friends and having to keep up your act.
You don’t comment on it.
Eventually, he takes you to a small pond in the middle of the park. There’s white lilies around the water, each of them dancing in the wind while the water flows around them. The sun is bright, shining in your eyes and making you squint slightly. It’s pretty beautiful, actually. You had no idea this place was so close to your campus.
Heeseung directs you on how to pose. How to smile like you have no idea you’re being watched. It’s awkward at first, mostly because the only time you’ve ever had someone take pictures of you like this was during your high school graduation, but it doesn’t take long for the tension to ease into something softer. Easier.
He tells you to sit on the grass and tilt your head towards the pond–but each shot he gets just doesn’t feel right.
“Maybe lean more towards the left?” He mumbles, hand flying out to gesture at you. You do as he says, but apparently, he’s still not getting the shot he wants.
He clicks his tongue in frustration, “no–that’s not–just–let me fix you.”
You furrow your brows. What does that even mean? “You don’t need to fix me, Heeseung–”
He interrupts you with a laugh. “Not like that, idiot. God, you’re always so defensive.”
You part your lips to retort, but before the words can get out, he’s walking towards you and your chin is in his hand, and you suddenly forget how to communicate entirely.
He tilts your head where he wants it, the pink of his tongue poking out the tiniest bit. His face is so close that it takes everything in you to not remember how he’d tasted when his tongue was in your mouth.
You feel your cheeks heat up, but you let him do what he needs to.
“There, that’s the angle.”
“You couldn’t have just told me to tilt my chin up?”
He smiles and goes back to his camera. “I did, princess. You just don’t listen.”
God, he’s so annoying.
But still, your lips curve up and your heart gets that same feeling it did at the party. The one that you’re not quite ready to name.
“Do we really have to go to this brunch?” You groan, flopping down onto your bed. “Sunghoon and Chaewon are going to be there, and I really don’t feel like watching them be all over each other.”
Yunjin shakes her head, “that’s exactly why we have to go. So that you and Heeseung can do it right back to them.”
“They already saw us kiss! What more do we have to do? Feed each other and do that weird baby talk bullshit couples do?”
Yunjin gags and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what couples you’re talking to, but please tell them I said to stop doing that immediately. But, no, that’s not what I meant. How is it going to look if everyone's there except for you and Heeseung?”
“Um, fine? No one’s going to care.”
“It’s going to look suspicious. Everyone knows you had a thing for Sunghoon before he popped out with Chaewon. You and Heeseung need to prove to everyone–not just Sunghoon–that you’re actually in love.”
You sigh. You know she’s right, you just hate it. Why do you need to prove your fake relationship to your friends? It feels wrong. It feels like lying.
Actually, it is lying.
“I hate lying to everyone,” you sigh, hugging your pillow to your chest. “Makes me feel like a bad friend.”
“You’re not a bad friend,” Yunjin reassures, rolling her chair over to you. It gets caught on the rug for a moment, but she’s quick to force the wheels to move again. “Besides, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
You give her a look. “That’s like, the worst advice you’ve ever given me.”
She chuckles, “sorry I’m not well versed in the art of therapy for fake dating. I’ll make sure to switch my degree to better accommodate you.”
“That would actually be great, thank you.”
She takes in a breath, her hand reaching for yours. “Just…don’t think of it as lying. Think about it like two friends helping each other out.”
“He’s not my friend.” You scoff, but the words don’t hold any bite behind them. Not like they used to, at least.
Yunjin grins knowingly. “Yeah, he is.”
You don’t bother correcting her again.
Brunch is at noon at that diner off of fifth. The same one you’d gone to when this entire mess started. The same one you’d started falling in love with Sunghoon at. It’s weird now, seeing how much your life has changed in the short amount of time since you were last here.
You have a fake boyfriend now. You don’t talk to Sunghoon. Your life feels like it’s falling apart and coming back together all at once.
You and Heeseung sit next to each other wordlessly, both of you more cautious about touching. It feels like there’s enough space between your leg and his to fill out the Grand Canyon. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.
Sunghoon holds Chaewon's hand under the table, and their shoulders brush every time they move. It’s irritating and annoying and you strangely enough couldn’t care less about it. That sense of jealousy you’d felt the last time you were here no longer spills over your guts like acid, instead you feel nothing.
You try to force yourself to remember what you’d liked about Sunghoon. He’s kind. Smart. Dedicated. Absolutely fucking gorgeous.
But he’s not…
“Honestly,” Jake says between spoonfuls of biscuits and gravy, “when Yunjin told us you guys were seeing each other, I thought she was lying. I mean, you guys couldn’t even be in the same room without having some kind of argument.”
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear nervously, “yeah. I was pretty surprised too.”
You don’t miss the way Heeseung cracks a smile at that. “It was kind of sudden, but I'm glad it happened.” He says easily, “means I finally get to stop pretending I can’t stand her.”
You can tell he hadn’t meant to say that last part, because his eyes go wide and he tenses for a second. Not long enough for anyone to catch it, but you do. You see the way fear flashes behind his irises for a moment, the way his breath catches before filling out his chest once again.
Sunghoons throat bobs as he swallows, dark eyes darting between the two of you slowly. “Pretending?” He asks cautiously, like he’s testing the words on his tongue.
But you don’t care about Sunghoon. All you can think about is what Heeseung said. I finally get to stop pretending I can’t stand her. Is he being honest? Or is this all just a part of your act? You hate that you can’t tell.
“Uh,” he laughs nervously, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “When we were in school, I didn't know how to get her attention. She was smart and kind and friends with everyone, and I was just…there. She used to do this thing in kindergarten where she’d wait for everyone else to fall asleep during naptime before she did because she didn’t want anyone to have to sit there alone, and I remember thinking she must’ve been sent by some kind of angel.” He laughs then, a genuine one. The kind that lights up his entire face.
You hadn’t even remembered you did that, but it’s true. You did. It always just felt like the right thing to do, but the fact that he remembers it all these years later makes you feel almost dizzy.
“I think it was in third grade when I figured the best way to get her attention was to piss her off,” he continues. “I don’t know why. But I spent the next ten or more years making sure I annoyed her to the best of my ability. I think I just decided that I’d rather have her hate me than not have her in my life at all.”
The table is silent aside from the people talking around you. They’re all having normal conversations while you're going through the biggest existential crisis of your life. You understand that this is supposed to be fake–but that didn’t feel like something he made up on the spot. It felt like he was finally coming clean about something that’d been sitting on his chest for years. And if that’s true, where does that leave you?
“Heeseung…” You attempt, eyes searching the side of his face. When he turns to you, he looks more sincere than you’ve ever seen him. His hand reaches for yours under the table and he intertwines his fingers with yours. The hold is gentle, soft, right. It feels like you’re exactly where you were always supposed to be.
“Sorry,” he laughs, turning back to the group. “That was kind of sappy.”
“Nah, man, that was beautiful.” Jake murmurs, bringing a hand up to his chest. “I’m happy for you guys, seriously.”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon nods, “you guys are good for each other.” He looks resigned. Like he’s accepting defeat. It makes something click in your brain.
For the first time in your life, you think you’re starting to see Heeseung exactly for who he is.
You don’t notice the way he looks at Sunghoon. Or how he swallows back his pride and comes to terms with what he knows he has to do.
You don't comment when he pulls his hand away from you, you just assume it's because he wants to be able to properly eat his food.
When brunch is over, you say your goodbyes to everyone with a pep in your step. You know that telling Heeseung how you’re feeling might complicate things, but he basically just confessed that he remembered things you did in kindergarten. You don’t remember that kind of stuff unless it means something, right?
“I’ll walk you back to your dorm?” He murmurs next to you, and you nod.
“I’d like that.”
There’s tension in the air as you walk, one that you’re practically dying to address. But Heeseung doesn’t look like he did in the diner. He looks conflicted, scared–he keeps his eyes ahead and his hands shoved into his pockets. Nothing like the bright boy you’d been sitting next to barely an hour ago.
“Are you okay?” You ask, voice soft.
He doesn’t even glance at you. “I’m fine.”
“Then why do you look like a kicked puppy?” You attempt to joke, but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he pauses on the sidewalk, and you barely get a few feet in front of him when you notice he’s stopped.
“What’s going on, Heeseung?” You attempt again, reaching for his hand. He pulls it back so sharply you nearly flinch.
“I think…I think we need to stop.” He says finally.
Your heart drops. “What? Why? Did I–Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?"
“No, no, it’s not–” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, “fuck, it’s not you.”
You raise a brow. He’s not making any sense. He wants to stop now? After what he said in the diner? “Then what is it?” You snap.
He shakes his head like the words are too painful to speak. “You like Sunghoon, [Y/N], and he’s going to break up with Chaewon soon. I got the pictures I needed for the competition. There’s no reason to drag this on any longer than we already have.”
His words shouldn’t feel like a breakup, but they do. God, they do. They feel like he’s pulling away from you after you’ve finally come to terms with what you feel for him. “What about what you said in the diner?” You ask finally, voice breaking. “I can’t just act like that didn’t happen, Heeseung. Not when I’m finally–I’m finally…” The words get caught in your throat, but you both know exactly what you mean by them.
His hands squeeze into fists at his side. “That didn’t mean anything, [Y/N].” he says lowly, like breaking your heart is something he does daily. Maybe it was and you just never noticed before. “It was just helping the act. Keeping up the lie. That’s all.”
Tears come to your waterline, the back of your throat beginning to ache from the force of it. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he says firmly, but you can see the way his eyes are beginning to turn glassy. “I really do.”
He turns on his heel then, leaving you alone on the sidewalk and turning his back onto whatever fucked up thing it is you’ve built together.
Your mother used to say that hate and love were synonymous. You know now that she was wrong.
Because what you feel for Lee Heeseung has nothing to do with love, and everything to do with pure, unadulterated hate.
Your phone chimes, and when you check the notification, what you see doesn't make you feel good. It doesn't bring joy to your heart or make you want to skip down the street. Instead, it makes your heart break a little bit more.
Yunjin: Sunghoon just broke up with Chaewon. We’re so in
You should be happy. This is exactly what you wanted, right?
So why do you feel like you just lost the one thing that mattered the most?
You haven’t talked to Heeseung in three weeks. He transferred out of your shared class–something you didn’t even know was possible this late into the semester–and stopped showing up to any group hangouts. Not that you care, obviously.
The both of you said your breakup was mutual. That the stress of school and work just didn’t make a relationship possible, but there weren’t any hard feelings. Jake had raised a brow at the entire thing, but ultimately accepted it without a word.
But, Sunghoon seeing the both of you being single at the same time again, decided that meant he could shoot his shot. Which is good–it was the entire point of this entire thing, right?
Sunghoon is nice. He holds the door open for you and he pays for your meals and he takes you back to that coffee shop the both of you loved so much.
He is perfect for you in every sense.
But when he sits next to you, you don’t feel that same spark low in your belly. When he makes a joke, you don’t laugh until you swear you’re going to run out of oxygen. He doesn’t look at you like you mean something to him.
Yunjin's not dumb, she knows something's wrong. Just a few months ago you would’ve been ecstatic at the idea of going on dates with Sunghoon, so why do you seem like you couldn’t care less about him now?
“Are you okay?” She asks, voice filled with concern. “You’ve been…distant.”
“I’m fine,” you answer a bit too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don't know, why don’t you tell me?”
You blink, turning to look at her in your mirror. You’re in the middle of getting ready for you and Sunghoons third date. He told you to dress nicely for dinner, but all you can think about is the fact that Heeseung would be presenting his pictures for the contest tonight. You didn’t even get to see them, which is more annoying than anything else.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Yunjin.” You lie.
She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and making her way over to you. She smooths down the hem of your skirt without a second thought. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me but, if it’s because of Heeseung–”
“It’s not.”
“–If it’s because of Heeseung, then I’d understand.”
You freeze, eyes snapping to hers. You never told her about the last conversation you’d had with Heeseung, because you figured there wasn’t really any point. He’d “broken up” with you, and that was that. It doesn't mean anything else.
You want Sunghoon. You know you do. It’s the entire reason you and Heeseung came up with that stupid plan in the first place. You aren’t going to throw away a good guy because you’d gotten confused.
“It’s not,” you lie again, “I’m just stressed with finals and stuff. That’s all.”
Yunjin obviously doesn’t believe you. You don’t blame her, of course. You’ve always been an awful liar.
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you’re already dreading what she’s going to say. Every time Yunjin goes silent, it always means she’s going to say something that you probably don’t want to hear.
“You know,” she starts, voice soft and low, “I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at him.”
You freeze, a shiver rushing down your spine like ice cold water. “What?”
“I just mean–” She backtracks for a moment before deciding to just say it, “you never look at Sunghoon the way you looked at Heeseung. You looked…happy with him. Like, actually happy. Not just because you thought you were supposed to be, but because you actually felt it.”
You go silent at that. You were happy. Even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it–even if you were fighting it for whatever reason. “I’m happy with Sunghoon.” You say with finality, but you both hear how your voice shakes.
“If you say so,” she sighs, turning back and sitting at her desk. “What’re you guys doing tonight?”
You’re grateful for the change in topic. “He’s taking me to dinner,” you shrug, clipping on your earrings. “Somewhere fancy, I guess.”
She hums. “Do you think he’s going to kiss you tonight?”
God, I really, really hope not.
“I hope so,” you answer instead. Maybe kissing Sunghoon will be exactly what you need to get your mind off of him. “I think I’ve waited long enough.” You laugh, but it’s weak. Dishonest.
Yunjin frowns at the sound of it, but she doesn’t push. “Yeah,” she mumbles, “me too.”
Sunghoon arrives at five on the dot. Just like he said he would. You should’ve been watching the clock because you were excited for him to get here, but instead all you could think about every time you glanced at it was how nervous Heeseung must be right now. The contest starts at seven, which means he finds out in the next two hours if he wins the money. Your hand twitches at your side. You want to text him and say good luck, but you don’t.
“You look beautiful,” Sunghoon says. He’s all dark hair and dark eyes, not a single hair out of place. His suit looks expensive, and you wonder if he bought it just for the occasion. That definitely feels like something he would do.
“Thank you,” you respond, hoping he doesn’t see how fake your smile is. “You clean up pretty nicely as well.”
“I try,” he jokes, outstretching his arm for you. You take it easily, but it doesn’t feel right in your palm. It’s sturdy, easy. But, it doesn’t have any of that fire that you think it should.
Sunghoon is a gentleman the entire night. He takes you to eat, makes corny jokes, kisses your knuckles with pink cheeks. And it’s good. It’s so, so good. It’s exactly what you’ve always wanted.
But when you close your eyes, it’s not Sunghoon you see.
It’s dirty blonde hair covered by some ratty baseball cap. It’s that fucking teasing smile that you used to hate seeing. It’s watching him grow up and having him remember things about you that you’d completely forgotten about.
It’s him. Heeseung.
Sunghoon leads you to your front door nervously, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to get some kind of read on you. You wonder if he can see that your heart isn’t here–that it never was.
“I had a good time tonight,” he says, lips curling up into a soft smile. “I hope it was the same for you.”
“I…” Your words catch in your throat. You know what the logical thing would be to do right now. Accept his compliments, kiss him sweetly, go into your room giddy and wait for him to text you. But it’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong.
“Sunghoon,” you start, eyes filling with tears. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He’s silent for a split second, like he’s trying to process your words. “Why?” He asks, “Did something happen? Did I–Did I do something?”
God, you wish he had. That would make this entire thing so much easier.
“No,” you laugh wetly, “It’s not you. It’s–it’s me.” You know it’s cliche, but it's true. Because while you should’ve been enjoying him tonight, all you could think about was Heeseung. About the way he’d kissed you at the party. About how he always looked at you like there was more he wanted to say but he just never knew how.
Sunghoon blinks, his eyebrows knitting together and creasing his forehead. “What?”
“You’re perfect, Sunghoon.” you start, the words flowing out of you like you’re finally admitting them to yourself. “And for a long time, you were everything I ever wanted. You went to the cafe with me. You invited me to your games. I thought–I thought that I’d finally found the person I was meant to be with.”
“I–I don’t understand,” he murmurs, “Is that not how you feel anymore?”
Your heart constricts as you shake your head. “I wanted to. I really, really tried to remind myself of how I felt for you before. But…”
It takes him a second, but you see the exact moment recognition flashes across his face. He takes a step back from you, lips falling into a straight line. “But I’m not him.”
You can’t help the sob that rips from your throat. “I’m so sorry, Sunghoon.”
You half expect him to yell, maybe flip you off and drive off in his Porsche while he gets Chaewon on speed dial. But he doesn’t. He stands there for a long moment, breathing slowly, tongue poking the inside of his cheek every now and then.
And then he looks up at you, at the tears staining your cheeks, at how the honesty ripped out of you like a force of nature. He checks his watch–6:50 pm. Ten minutes before the contest starts.
“Come on,” he says, already jogging to the driver's seat.
You’re frozen, watching him with wide eyes. Did he not hear what you just said? “Sunghoon–”
He gives you a look so sharp it nearly steals the breath from your lungs. “We’ve got ten minutes to make it to that contest, and unfortunately, I’m not very big on breaking traffic laws. So, hurry up and get in!”
You gawk at him, a smile curling onto your lips, but you run into his car, nevertheless.
He was right, he’s not big on breaking traffic laws. But you see he’s going five over the speed limit compared to his usual three, and that feels like it counts for something. Even though you’d been leading him on for the past three weeks, he’s still trying to make sure you’re happy. He’s still looking out for you.
“Thank you,” you sniffle. And you truly mean it.
His gaze stays glued to the road. "Don't mention it.”
You arrive at the photography center with two minutes to spare. Sunghoon doesn't even let you say bye, just rushes you out of the car and wishes you good luck. You don’t look back as you run inside.
You’re thankful you at least dressed nicely for the date, because everyone in here looks like they come from money. Women in floorlength gowns, men in suits you’re sure cost more than your entire tuition. These must be the donors.
The hall is filled with pictures, some simple–some you think you have to be involved in the community to understand. But even as you practically sprint down the hallway, Heeseung is nowhere to be found.
“Please make your way to the dining hall as the photography committee prepares to announce the winner of this year's $100,000 grant!” A voice rings from the intercom, and you blindly follow the crowd into the large room parallel to the hall.
It’s filled with tables, and there’s a stage right at the front of the room with a podium and a giant projector. There’s nothing on it yet, but you’re assuming that’s where they’ll show the winning portfolio.
The tables all have name cards, so you do your best to conspicuously make your way to the back where nobody will notice you standing awkwardly. Plus, from back here it’ll be easier to try and find Heeseung.
You study the crowd, looking for the familiar head of blonde hair, but you come up empty. For a second, you wonder if he’s even here. He has to be here, you think. This is everything to him.
But every time someone new walks in, it’s never him.
You rock back and forth on your feet, a nervous habit. Pretty soon all the chairs are filled out and Heeseung is still nowhere to be seen. You wonder if he’d dropped out of the contest, but that still wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he drop out when photography was so important to him?
You reach for your phone, half tempted to call him and ask where the hell he was, but the lights dim and the president of the photography committee walks up the podium. She’s an older woman, with pin straight grey hair and huge glasses. She has to pull down the microphone to match her height. Heeseung used to joke that even though she looked like she belonged in a Disney movie, she was the toughest mentor he’d ever had.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” she starts, voice light. “We had many great admissions this year. All of which I personally took the time to look through, and let me tell you, there was some tough competition. I almost threw up my hands and gave the money to everyone!”
The crowd laughs at that, but you can tell it’s just them being polite. “But, unfortunately, we can’t do that. So, after many sleepless nights and lots of talks with the committee, I was able to come to a decision. This year's winner is someone I think has put in more effort into his photos than anyone else I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. He’s not naturally talented, no, but he’s dedicated. He takes risks. He tries new things and doesn’t shy away when they don’t work.”
The projector begins to come to life. “As you know, this year's theme was muse. The participants were meant to find a singular person and put together a portfolio of said person.”
The first photo flashes against the screen–and your breath catches in your throat. It's you. But it’s not the ones from the park, no, it’s you in class. Your pencil is in between your lips; brows scrunched together the way they always are when you get frustrated. You’re not wearing any makeup–hell, you look like you just rolled out of bed!
Your breath catches as the photos continue. Some of you in class, in the diner, at that God forsaken party. All pictures that look old and new at the same time. You can tell some are from after this entire mess started, when you and Heeseung started to actually enjoy each other's presence. You look happier in those ones.
But there’s some from before too–when the only times you ever thought about Heeseung were when you were thinking about how much you can’t stand him. Those ones are mostly you in class, all of them shot from the same angle. There’s a few of you from group hangouts, and you wonder how you never noticed him taking them. Maybe it’s because you’re just so used to seeing him with his camera that you stopped noticing it entirely.
It’s the last photo that really gets you though. It’s from the park, you’re sitting in the grass, head tilted to the side, lips curling up into a soft smile. You’re looking into the camera–or, behind it actually–directly at Heeseung, and the look in your eyes is enough to knock the breath from your lungs.
You look like you’re in love.
“This year's winner–though I doubt anyone's surprised–Is Lee Heeseung!”
You barely register her words, because all you can see is Heeseung walking up onto the stage. So that’s where he was, you think.
He’s wearing a suit, though it doesn’t look nearly as nice as everyone else's here. His dirty blonde hair is actually styled for once, and his lips are curled up into a small smile. But it’s not the one you’re used to seeing. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, doesn’t make his face light up like it usually does. Despite winning, he looks almost sad.
He gives a small bow at the podium, shaking hands with the Committee President. He looks nervous as he comes up to the mic, and you squeeze your hands together. Does he want you here? Should you try and make your presence known?
You are the girl in his photos, after all.
“Wow,” he starts, voice shaking slightly. “This is…an honor. Really. I didn’t go into this contest thinking I would win. In fact, I wasn’t going to enter at all. Not until I realized I’d already accidentally found my muse.” He laughs then, but it’s short. “I entered for selfish reasons. Not for the money. Not so that I could get my photos in international shows. But, because I wanted an excuse to get closer to her.”
His eyes scan the crowd, until finally, they land on you. His eyes widen for a moment, lips parting in shock. For a moment, you think he wants you to leave. You wouldn’t blame him if he did.
But he smiles. Really smiles. “None of this would’ve been possible without her.” He continues now, voice more confident. “These photos would’ve sat tucked away in my camera forever. But she made me confident. She reminded me of why I love photography in the first place. So, I’m dedicating this grant to her. To my muse.” His eyes find yours again. “My [Y/N].”
You don’t get a chance to go up to Heeseung until after all of the sponsors have congratulated him, which admittedly takes a lot longer than you think either of you would like.
You can see him on stage, shaking hands with people who you assume must be important. He never keeps his eyes on them for too long. Instead, they trail over to you, like he’s hoping he’ll be able to communicate with you through eye contact.
By the time you can actually speak to him, the hall is mostly empty aside from a few stragglers. He approaches you with caution, like he’s scared of getting too close.
“Hi,” he breathes, stopping a few feet in front of you.
“Hi,” you say back.
The air is softer than it had been the last time you’d seen him. Then, it was harsh. Like smoke filling into your lungs. Now, it feels like a breath of fresh air.
You’re both silent for a moment, like you’re unsure of what to say to each other.
“I broke it off with Sunghoon,” you say eventually, eyes falling to the floor.
He blinks. “You did?”
“I did.”
“Okay.”
More silence.
“You took pictures of me,” you observe.
“I did.”
“Why?”
He laughs, a full hearty sound, like he’s caught off guard by the question. You don’t know why he would be. You think it’s a perfectly fair thing to ask.
He shrugs, “I felt inspired by you.”
You raise a brow at that. “Inspired? By what—me chewing my pencil like a child?”
He grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No. I was inspired by how I felt when I looked at you.”
That makes you pause. “What?”
He fiddles with the corner of his pocket, thumb grazing it once before darting away. He sucks in a deep breath, and then finally, he says everything you know he’s been holding back.
“I’ve been in love with you since we were six years old,” he starts. “Ever since I watched you stay up the entire nap time because Jungwon couldn’t fall asleep. I knew right then and there that I loved you and that I was going to continue to love you for as long as I knew you.”
You can’t help the way your eyes go glassy, heart thumping a million miles an hour in your chest. “Heeseung…”
He doesn’t let you finish. “But I was shy—well, scared is more like it—I was scared that you weren’t going to want to be my friend and I would never be able to be around you.”
“Why would you think that?”
He shrugs, “why does a third grader think anything?”
You don’t have a reply for that.
He sighs before continuing. “After that it just…became a thing. Our thing. I annoyed you and therefore I got to keep being in your life. Even if it wasn't what I wanted, I figured it was better than not being around you at all.” He swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But then we got to university and you met Sunghoon and I felt you slipping away from me, and I didn’t know what to do with that. I thought that maybe…maybe it was time for me to let you go.”
Your heart cracks at the strain in his voice, like he’s recalling a bad memory.
“So, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when Jake came home and started asking me a million questions about our apparent relationship.”
“Oh, God,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. At the time, it’d genuinely felt like the end of the world. Now, you really can’t imagine where your life would be without Yunjin's lie.
For starters, he probably would’ve never told you this, and you would’ve gone your entire life chopping up your relationship to nothing but a high school rivalry that didn’t have any deeper meaning. You would’ve never found out he felt this way—or that you feel the way you do.
“It was good,” he starts again, “pretending. Even though it wasn’t really pretending for me. And then we went to that diner and I just…I got scared. I didn’t want to hold you back from what you really wanted. I thought, she’s hated me for years, at least now she’ll have an actual reason. And I wanted to be okay with that. I really did.” He takes a step closer. “But now you’re here. And I think I know why, but I’m getting tired of assuming things, princess. So, I think you’ll have to tell me.”
You suck in a shaky breath, your own hands fiddling with the hem of your dress nervously. “I…tried. With Sunghoon. I thought it was what I wanted, the easiness of it all. He was kind and he made bad jokes and I thought I was content with that.”
You roll your eyes, “But then you happened.” You say it like it’s an insult, but you both know it’s not. “And every time I was with him all I could think was how his car didn’t have that mysterious dent in the front. How he didn’t let me play pop music and pretend he wasn’t singing along when we both knew he was. How he didn't make me feel like I actually meant something to him.”
Your eyes find his for the first time since he approached you tonight. “All I could think about was how he wasn’t you.”
For a brief second, the only noise between the two of you is your breathing and the faint hum of people around you. Heeseung's lips part, his Adam's apple bobbing as he takes in your confession. He’s silent for so long you nearly think you overstepped.
But then he’s taking a step towards you and cradling your jaw with his hand. You don’t move away.
“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” He says, and the familiarity of his words brings a smile to your face.
“Okay. I trust you.”
And then his lips are on yours.
This kiss is different from the first one. It’s not hungry, not a performance for anyone else. This kiss is solely for you, for the love you’ve found and never plan on losing. It tastes like him and feels exactly like coming home.
His thumb rubs the apple of your cheek, his lips moving against yours slowly. He doesn’t use tongue, but you don’t need him to.
When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours and brings his hands down to your waist. They feel heavy against you, like a claim you never knew you needed.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmurs.
You giggle, bringing your own arms up to wrap around his neck. “Have you?”
“Yeah,” he responds, “along with…other things.”
You raise a brow at that, “yeah? Like what?”
That’s exactly how you end up back at his apartment, his lips moving against yours like he’s trying to memorize your body with them. Jake and Sunghoon are out thankfully, which means you’ve got the entire apartment to yourself.
Heeseung leads you blindly to his room, never once turning away from you or attempting to look where he’s going. You laugh as he trips over the carpet, but he swallows it with his mouth on yours.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says against you. You don’t even notice you’ve made it into your bedroom before your legs hit the mattress and suddenly, he’s pulling you down onto it. “Been waiting so long to have you like this.”
“Yeah?” You manage to say, your voice airy. “Show me, then.”
He pulls back for a moment, eyes looking directly into yours, and then he’s moving his lips to your neck. He leaves wet kisses down the column of your throat, your shoulder, sucking marks into the delicate skin of your collarbone.
His teeth graze a particular spot at your neck that makes you gasp, and he processes the noise with a slight groan of his own. He bites down on the spot–not hard, just enough for your back to arch and your fingers to find purchase in his hair. Your legs wrap around his waist as his tongue shoots out to soothe the bite.
Slowly, he brings a hand up to the strap of your dress, his fingers slipping under it but never pulling down.
“Hee,” you practically whine, “please.”
He grins, and then he pulls the strap down ever so slowly. You know he’s teasing you, and the thought makes heat pool between your legs.
Once the dress is off, he throws it to the side and sits back on his heels so he can stare at you. You still have your underwear and bra on, but the sight of your bare stomach and legs is enough for him to let out a low whistle.
“You’re so beautiful, princess,” he murmurs. The sincerity in his voice makes your cheeks hot. “So fucking perfect.”
Your lips part to respond, but he leans down and kisses you again. This kiss is different from all the others. It’s messy and deep and pulls noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make.
He sucks on your bottom lip once, and then he pulls away and leaves kisses all down your body. Down your neck, your cloth-covered breasts, your stomach, all the way down until he leaves one final kiss at your ankle.
He seats himself at the edge of the bed and ever-so-gently pulls you down so your legs hang over the edge of the bed and your cunt is level with his face. He stares at it for a long moment, at the wet patch growing on the lace. At your pretty white panties.
Your hands fist the sheets, legs nearly closing on instinct, but he just pushes them over his shoulders and keeps you open for him. “Don’t hide from me,” he mumbles. His hand slowly trails up your thigh until it finds the edge of your underwear.
He keeps it there for what feels like forever. Never touching. Just looking.
“Please,” you whimper, “please touch me.”
He grins, “yeah? Want my mouth on you, baby?”
You nod, hips rolling against nothing. “Yes, fuck, please.”
That seems to finally break him, because he licks one large stripe up your cunt through your underwear. You gasp at the feeling, your back arching slightly.
He continues licking small kitten-licks over your panties, and the mixture of his saliva and your arousal begins to turn the cloth nearly translucent.
He groans like the taste of you is his favorite meal. “You taste so good,” he murmurs against you, “like heaven.”
You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out when his tongue catches your clit, and then he brings his hands up to your waist and pulls your underwear down your legs. You don’t miss the way he stares at them for a second before letting them drop to the floor.
He spits on your cunt, watching the way his saliva drips down your slit before he sucks your clit into his mouth.
You cry out at the feeling, your toes curling at his back. He groans at the taste and brings his hands up to your hips, gripping them and keeping them still.
“Fuck,” you moan when he brings his tongue down to your hole, collecting the arousal there like it's his own personal ambrosia.
“All this is for me, right?” He questions, trailing a hand down and rubbing his thumb against your clit. The feeling has your head spinning. “Not for Sunghoon, all for me, isn’t that right, princess?”
You nod feverishly, his possessiveness nearly enough to make you finish right there and then. “Yours! ‘S all yours.”
He smirks, “that’s a good girl.”
And then he brings a finger to your entrance, circling over it once before letting it slip inside the ring of muscle. The air punches from your lungs at the feeling, but then he sucks your clit into his mouth again while his finger thrusts into you and you really think you’re going to start seeing stars.
“Hee–Heeseung,” you cry, “fuck!”
He hums but doesn’t stop. Instead, he pushes a second finger inside and begins to curl them upwards. You feel him hit that spongey spot inside of you and you know you’re done for.
“I’m close–fuck,”
He doesn’t work you harder, just keeps going at the pace so he can drag out your orgasm for as long as possible. “Come on, baby, cum for me. Show me just how bad you want it.”
That’s all it takes for you to release all over his face and hand. Your muscles tighten and relax over and over again, back arching and vision going white. He groans and licks up every drop, working you through it without a complaint.
You expect him to stop now that you’ve finished, but he doesn’t. If anything, he goes harder. The overstimulation begins to border on the edge of too much, and your hips buck up without your permission.
“Fuck, too much, I cant–”
He doesn’t let up. “Yeah, you can. Come on, wanna see you fall apart for me all over again.”
It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to crash over you, and this one nearly leaves your body feeling limp and your pulse to blare against your ears.
Your body is still twitching from aftershocks when he climbs up next to you, and you watch with blurry vision as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and licks them clean. He hums at the taste and then brings his hands to the hem of his shirt and slips it off.
Your eyes trail over the sight of his bare chest, noting every ridge of muscle and mole, watching the way his chest heaves slightly. He’s absolutely beautiful, like a painting you’d find at some stupidly expensive art show.
“You’re beautiful,” you murmur.
Now it’s his turn to blush. His ears and cheeks turn a slight shade of pink, but he brings his lips down to yours before you can tease him for it.
Before you know it, his underwear is off and he’s lining himself up with your entrance. He looks up to you for permission, and you nod at him.
Pressure blooms between your legs as he pushes in, but it isn’t exactly painful. It just feels like something you never knew you needed. Like he was made exactly for you.
You keen, back bowing off the bed and eyebrows knitting together. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and rests his forehead against yours as he finally bottoms out.
You can feel him kissing your g-spot, and he experimentally rolls his hips against yours once. You both groan at the feeling of you tightening around him, and then he pulls out slightly and snaps back in.
You cry out, your nails raking down his back. He hisses slightly at the sting but doesn’t make any moves to stop you. Instead, he begins to rock onto you like his life depends on it. You can feel every ridge of his cock; can feel the way it curves at just the right angle.
“You feel so fucking good,” he gasps, “so perfect. Always knew you would.”
He buries his face into your neck, his hips snapping against yours like his life depends on it.
You feel yourself getting close, but before you can warn him your back is arching and you're finishing against him.
He cries out, his thrusts beginning to turn sloppy. “Fuck, fuck, I’m–” He finishes inside you without another word, painting your insides with his cum.
You both lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. He pulls out of you with a low breath and then reaches over for something at his nightstand to clean you up silently.
You watch him as he does, noting the way he cleans up your thighs with so much care. He doesn’t rush the aftercare process either, he kisses your skin gently and murmurs sweet words against you.
By the time your thighs stop shaking and you actually feel like you can breathe without your chest caving in, he’s laying down beside you and pulling you against his chest.
You lay there for a moment, feeling the way his chest rises and falls against your back. The warmth from his skin.
“Heeseung?” You mumble.
“Hm?”
You blink, a smile curling onto your lips. “I love you.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “I love you, too.”
And for once, you know that you both mean it.
Your mother used to say that hate was just another word for love. And right now, you know that she was right. Because what you feel for Lee Heeseung used to have everything to do with hate, but now you know it was really just another word for love.
fucking you on the staircase after an argument ─── ༺𖦹𖣘⍟
i love you, i will always love you— even with your hands around my throat, especially then. you’ll never recover from that kind of devotion.
(이희승 x fem reader) you look into my eyes, you can't recognize my face, you're in my world now, you can stay, but you belong to me, ooh, you belong to me if it hurts to breathe, open a window, your mind wants to leave , but you can't go ─ house of balloons
༄❣︎ ─ don’t have much to say for myself this is just pure filth honestly— this is extremely toxic. also always wanted to write about sucking toes heeseung is the perfect candidate.
oh my fucking god
00. masterlist
word count 3.7k
content advisory toxic relationship dynamics, like extremely toxic, toxic heeseung (reader is spiralling), jealousy, possessiveness, arguments, angst, mentions of obsession, dirty talk, unhealthy coping mechanisms, emotional distress, denial, dissociation, manipulation, power imbalances.
smut advisory unprotected sex, staircase fucking, forced proximity, creampie, oral, pussy eating, dirty–talking, missionary, backshots, deep penetration, finger–sucking, choking, fingering, kissing, ass eating, thumb in asshole, feet fetish, heeseung licks and sucks readers toes, reader gets shy, manipulation through sex, mentions of pregnancy, filthy sex just pure filth okay.
“you’re overreacting” heeseung sounds unbothered when he slams the car door shut behind him. like you’re bothering him by being angry— like you’re making a big deal out of nothing. you freeze, turning to face him— your usual calm expression— gone. replaced by genuine hurt and anger.
heeseung’s never seen you like this.
usually whenever you get mad at him, or the two of you have a misunderstanding— you keep it to yourself, then communicate with him the next day calmly and you two sort it out, you always do.
but tonight, you’re different— calm facade clearly breaking. you had ignored him the whole car ride home. whenever he made conversation, you’d turn your head to the window, leg bouncing uncontrollably— and not to mention slapping his hand away when he tried to rest it on your thigh.
you were angry at him, that was obvious, but you were also tired— tired of the same shit happening over and over again even after you talked about it with him. he never listens. just apologised and does the same thing over again.
it stings.
you’re hurt and heeseung knows why.
tonight was your staff night out, and you had brought heeseung along to introduce him to your co-workers. he was well behaved for most of the night, you’ll give him that, talking and laughing along with the people you worked with politely.
until you came back from the bathroom after touching up your makeup only to see him at the bar, with jiwoo from finance, her hands on heeseung’s chest, running a finger along his buttons playfully.
heeseung was laughing— looking down at her hand and raising an eyebrow. you saw it all, and you knew that look all too well.
that same look he’d given the girls he’s flirted with before— that look that had you up all night, crying silently on your side of the bed while heeseung slept peacefully beside you, that look that had you comparing yourself to random girls on the street when heeseung would stare at them for a second longer than necessary.
he was always like this, a flirt.
you knew that when you first started dating and you know that now. but what you didn’t know was that heeseung was going to keep flirting with other women despite your relationship.
but he wouldn’t flirt obvious enough for you to accuse him of cheating— it was in his tone, the way he could make everyday conversation sound seductive, suggestive, the way he would look at them— like he’s imagining bending them over and taking them from behind.
maybe you were overthinking it, maybe he can’t control it, some people are just natural flirts and don’t know they’re flirting.
and anytime you’d bring it up to him, heeseung would laugh like you were talking crazy, brush it off— lay you down and fuck you good, whispering sweet words in your ear to remind you— who he’s in love with, who he’s obsessed with and who he’s buried inside right now.
and just like that things would be fine again. you would never leave him, and heeseung knew that. but what heeseung also knew is that he would never cheat on you, never take it that far. he knew what he was doing, he knew how jealous and insecure you would get deep down inside— you’re pride too high to ever admit it— show it, voice it to him. and he hated that.
he wanted you to snap.
wanted you to break.
wanted you to show him how ugly and possessive you can get inside.
he liked that about you, that no matter how innocent or unbothered you may appear on the outside— inside there’s darkness, a timer— ready to be set off at any minute now.
your throat tightened like it always did when you saw him with yet again another girl. so you stepped forward, forced a smile and walked right up to them— eyes landing on her hand that was now closer to his waistband. heeseung’s face lit up when he saw you, clearing his throat and stepping back from jiwoo— naturally placing his arm around your waist.
“yn” jiwoo greeted you politely— fake. you only glared back at her, smile also— fake. she cleared her throat after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, she stepped back, “bye heeseung”
your jaw tightened when she left, heeseung smiled down at you like nothing had happened “hi baby” you grabbed his arm rough— pulling him down to your level, lips brushing his ear.
“we’ll talk about that when we get home” you shove him back, walking away with a sway to your hips. heeseung could only smile to himself— eyes glued to your ass in that lacy dress, this is what he wanted.
you storm inside your shared home, heels clacking against the tiles of your hallway. “i’m overreacting?! so you weren’t all over jiwoo just then— my fucking co-worker?!”
heeseung locks the door behind you two, throwing his keys on the table— fingers pinching between his eyebrows in frustration, he laughs “baby, she was all over me, i told her i had a girlfriend, what was i supposed to do? shove her off me?”
you scoff in disbelief at his words “yes! you could’ve but you didn’t heeseung that’s your problem you like the fucking attention” heeseung takes a step closer to you “don’t fucking swear at me baby” you push his chest, “i’m a grown woman i think i can swear if i want to, and right now it feels really fucking necessary” he stumbles back, eyes wide a little taken aback at how aggressive you’re being.
he wasn’t expecting this, was expecting you to cry to him— tell him you want him to stop talking to other women, beg him to never leave you.
but you’re expression is stone cold, arms crossed over your chest.
you shake your head at him. “come on don’t be like that” he takes a step closer again— hand going to tuck a strand hair behind your ear.
he’s not taking you seriously.
“don’t touch me” he furrows his eyebrows taking a step back. “so that’s how you’re gonna be, huh?” his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. you don’t answer him just turn to the kitchen, footsteps heavy.
heeseung follows after you without hesitation. “what happened to talking to each other huh? you know communicating? you’re being childish right now”
you slam the fridge door shut, eyes glassy with anger as you look up at him. “well clearly talking it through with you isn’t fucking working, you never listen hee, just apologise and do the same shit over and over again it’s exhausting”
that shoots straight through him, “it’s not like i kissed her, god” he clicks his tongue, running a hand through his hair. you scoff, “looked like it was getting pretty fucking close to that” heeseung unbuttons the first two buttons of his dress shirt, loosening his tie, ears hot.
“you think i’d cheat on you baby? really? you think i’d stoop that fucking low?” he catches the dish towel when you throw it at him.
“i don’t think this is working anymore”
silence.
and for a second you almost want to travel back in time and shut yourself up. but you don’t. you let the words settle. heeseung stares at you— he wasn’t expecting this, he scoffs “what?” you shrug “i don’t know how many times i’ve had to bring this up to you before, it’s toxic heeseung i can’t do this anymore, i’m fucking done” and with that you begin walking towards the stairs, heeseung is quick after you— rolling up his sleeves.
“the fuck did you just say to me?”
you’re three steps up the staircase when he grabs your ankle, making you trip against the tiles. “what the fuck are you doing heeseung let go” he doesn’t listen, only grabs your waist and spins you around, laying you down on your back, hard cold tiles sending shivers up your spine from the backless dress you’re wearing.
heeseung’s hands are on either side of your head— caging you. “look i know you’re jealous baby” he smirks pushing his body on top of yours. and you hate him for how good he looks right now. “you wanna leave me? hm?”
“get off me heeseung” you whine, trying to get up but he only presses himself against you harder, legs spread on either side of his waist. he grinds down on you once and that’s enough to make you whimper, hands catching his biceps, finally meeting his gaze. “think i’m toxic? bad for you?” he cooes stroking your cheek.
he looks annoyingly good like this, face a little red from the arguing, but still that cocky smirk he always has plastered on his face. it’s annoying you. he’s mocking you.
“i don’t think you want me to get off you, hm baby?” he looks down at where your bodies are connected, keeping a slow place when he rubs his bulge against your heat. “in fact i think you want more, huh baby?” he smiles and you shake your head no, a little breathless from the feeling of his clothed cock rubbing against your clit.
heeseung grabs your cheeks hard, squishing them together— your lips puckered up like a fish. you look terrified, it only pushes him further.
“no? no you don’t want more? let’s see what this little pussy has to say, huh?” heeseung lifts himself off you then, letting your cheeks go with a slap, forcing your head sideways, tears fall from your face.
he backs down a step on your staircase so he’s eye level with your pussy— he’s giving you the space to move— leave, he’s not holding you down anymore.
but you stay, legs spread for him.
he carefully pulls your lacy panties to the side and when he sees you’re glistening for him he chuckles, cocky.
“such a bad liar baby, you’re soaked for me look at that” heeseung licks his lips once, slowly running his middle finger along your folds, gathering your slick to show you. your cheeks flush in embarrassment. okay maybe you were a little turned on. he’s never treated you like this before, this rough.
heeseung smiles proud, on his knees below you on one of your steps, he lifts your left leg up. he brings your calf to his mouth kissing and humming against your soft skin at how good you smell. you’d lathered yourself in oils and lotions earlier to get ready for the night and heeseung can’t get over how smooth you are.
“shit baby” he groans, rubbing his bulge against your thigh. he lets your heel fall, kissing up to your feet. heeseung presses your foot to his face, sniffing your sole, hips bucking against you as he lets out a soft groan. you bite your bottom lip in embarrassment at your foot all up in his face like this.
“heeseung—stop it’s embarrassing!” he stops immediately pulling your foot from his face to get a look at your flushed, tear streaked face and it only turns him on more.
“yeah? you embarrassed baby? embarrassed because ’m fucking obsessed with every inch of you?” he smirks holding your gaze when he slides his tongue between your toes, you flinch trying to pull your foot back— whining at the unwanted tickle.
heeseung’s having none of it, grip tight around your foot when he takes your toe into his mouth swirling his tongue around it. he holds your gaze and you hide your face in your hands, chest falling up and down.
he’s never done this before. has he always liked feet? the truth is, he doesn’t have a weird fetish for feet, but your feet? well that’s a whole different topic.
heeseung gets lost in the feeling of your toes in his mouth— grinding himself down on your bare pussy— meanwhile he’s still fully clothed. he closes his eyes rubbing your feet all over his face, sucking and licking.
“fuck baby wanted this for so long” he licks from your heel to the tips of your white toes. “didn’t wanna tell you, scare you away, but since you think i want other women, wanna leave me— think it’s necessary i show you how down bad i am for you”
your chest swells with pride when he speaks— he sounds so submissive right now. you look at him, eyes dark when you pull your foot from his mouth, trailing it down his chest to his bulge. heeseung watches eyes wide, breath stuttering— whimpering softly when you rub your foot back and forth over his clothed cock.
“baby—“ he throws his head back and that’s when you take your chance to move, standing up to walk upstairs, you hadn’t t forgotten what he pulled earlier, mind still set on leaving him.
but you only make it to the quarter— landing. he’s quick to grab your ankle again, making you fall to your knees— you squeak in pain— he’s holding you down from behind now, hovering over you.
heeseung leans down to your ear his hot breath making you shiver, “where do you think you’re going hm?” he sticks his tongue out licking all over your earlobe, moving to your cheek, gathering your tears with his tongue— enjoying the salty taste in his mouth.
you sob, more tears falling, he’s so nasty with you tonight, you squirm beneath him and he only growls because you’re pushing your ass back against his crotch. heeseung holds back a moan, grinding his own hips down to meet your ass.
“still mad at me baby? still wanna break up?” you nod “yes hee— shit” he smiles at the shake in your voice, “yeah? need me to fuck it out of you then baby? show you who i’m really obsessed with?” he doesn’t even need you to reply, he already knows the answer, he lifts up your dress, bunching it around your hips— your panties still pushed to the side.
you look so perfect like this, on your hands and knees on the staircase, ass arched, all ready for him. he takes his lower lip between his teeth at the sight of you, unbuckling his belt quicker than he ever has before. unzipping his pants just enough to free his cock.
your cheek is pressed against the tile of the landing floor— turning your head to get a view of his cock, it’s big— flushed pink tip leaking pre cum. heeseung sees you staring and winks at you, stroking himself a few times before pushing himself inside you slowly from behind, eyes on yours.
your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel him burry himself balls deep inside of you, moving slowly— hands on your hips. you mewl loudly hands sweaty against the tile floor when heeseung thrusts into you rough, your ass bouncing against his hips.
he groans deeply at the sight— grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you back towards his chest, letting your head rest on his shoulder while he fucks up into you, balls slapping your clit.
“you know i flirt with all these girls baby but they’d never have me like this” he whispers in your ear, tongue licking at your neck. “you’re my special girl, yeah?” you want to push him away, roll your eyes but you can’t— your body caught in a trance.
“y-you’re— you’re a fucking whore baby” you cry out without really thinking. all you know is that you’re angry at him, even more now that he’s making you feel so good. your eyes spill more tears from the pleasure he’s giving you.
heeseung growls in your ear picking up his pace— cock twitching inside you, left hand reaching up to wrap around your throat, “yeah? i’m the whore?“ he chuckles— tightening his grip around your throat— right hand pulling down the front of your dress to play with your tits.
“you’re the one crying on my cock baby” he cooes, cupping your tit feeling it bounce in his hand. you moan louder when he pushes your cheek back down on the step, right hand gripping your hair as he thrusts into you with skill, you clench around him at the way he’s treating you.
“jealous little slut huh baby?” you can’t answer him, can’t talk, your mind is gone, eyes rolled back, tongue sticking out a little at the side of your mouth. heeseung has to stop himself from cumming from your lewd expression alone. “think you can leave me? think i want other girls like this? who does this cock belong to huh?”
“m—me— me” you push yourself up, body weight on your forearms, pushing your ass back against him, meeting his thrusts. he freezes— slapping your ass watching himself slip in and out of you. “that’s it baby take what’s yours” your body is exhausted but you’re desperate to make him feel good. show him who he has, show him why he doesn’t need to flirt with other girls. remind him who owns him.
“fuck that’s so hot” his hand rest on your lower back, just above your ass, right thumb pressing against your pretty little asshole. you twitch when he pushes the tip of his thumb in, cock still fucking in and out of you with brutal force. “hee—“
“shh baby taking me so fucking well, wanna fill all your holes” you walls clam around him uncontrollably— body betraying you. he’s talking and using you so nasty right now— you don’t want to accept the fact that like you like it. his left hand moves from your tit to your mouth, stroking your bottom lip.
you let his long fingers in, swirling your tongue around them, heeseung moans at the view of you through the mirror on the wall in front of you two, he pushes your head up forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “that’s it baby, look at you— all your holes filled by me huh? you like that?”
you try to avoid the mirror but god you look a mess, in the best possible way, your dark hair messy from heeseungs grip, drool hanging from your chin, eyebrows raised and stitched together in pleasure, heeseung behind you, still fully dressed except for his cock, eyes locked on your ass until he meets your eyes in the mirror, he looks so sexy like this.
the sight of him sends you over the edge, your walls flutter around him and you reach out behind you to push him back but he grabs your arm, pinning it behind your back. “heeseung— gonna— gonna cum” heeseung smirks pulling out of you suddenly.
you whine— tears falling from your flushed face. he stays behind you— eyes locked on your face through the mirror “tell me you forgive me” you shake your head in protest and he shrugs, moving his cock up and down your folds. your legs shake.
“if you wanna cum, gonna have to forgive me baby” he smirks “come on i didn’t mean it, don’t care about her, i know where my priorities lie” he takes hold of his cock, rubbing it against your clit. your breathe hitches— you were so close and he just pulled out, edged you.
“baby spit it out” he slides into you dangerously slow, grazing your insides. “come on princess, know you wanna cum all over this cock, just say the words” you can’t take it anymore, you’re so sensitive, so ready to realease.
“okay— i— i forgive you” you speak, voice barely audible. heeseungs clicks his tongue, not satisfied. “say it like you mean it” you’re growing impatient, clenching around nothing, “please heeseung i forgive you baby, don’t wanna break up with you, just fucking make me cum please”
heeseung smirks satisfied, pulling out of you completely before slamming back into you, fucking against you relentlessly, your moans echoing in the halls.
“that’s it baby, there’s my good girl. cum, cum all over this dick” your whole body shakes beneath him when you orgasm on his cock, you pulse around him aggressively— making him whimper “such a stupid girl aren’t you? thinking you can break up with me” he pounds into you a few more times, moans high and broken.
“shit i’m close too, gonna cum inside you princess, gonna fill you up, get you pregnant” you nod, head heavy, eyes hooded as you look at him through the mirror, back arched for him. “hee—” that sends him over the edge, just the sight of you, just your voice saying his name is enough for him.
“yeah fuck yn hm? want me to put a baby in you?” he cums inside you when you nod— emptying his balls with a low groan, fucking himself through his orgasm, you sigh at the feeling of his warm cum shooting inside your womb.
he stays inside you for a moment before he pulls out— watching his cum leak out of you. he watches your holes clench around nothing. you’re lying there— exhausted, body still shaking from your orgasm.
heeseung bends down to move his head closer to your pussy, licking a stripe of his cum that was leaking from you, gathering it on his tongue before he pushes his tongue in your hole, fucking his tongue in and out of you— making sure none of his cum goes to waste.
your legs shake from the sensitivity, heeseung licks up to your asshole, circling it with his tongue making you flinch. he places a soft kiss on your hole, pulling away slow, breathless. watching your collapsed body on the staircase, he laughs tucking himself back into his pants.
“you’re hot when you’re jealous baby you know that?” he lies down beside you on your stairs. “glad we could make up” heeseung strokes your messy hair, your makeup ruined from the tears— he smiles to himself knowing he was the cause.
he kisses your lips softly, “i’m fucking obsessed with you baby— you can’t leave me, ever” he leans his forehead against yours. you just stare at him— eyes empty, your mind blank, you’re completely gone, spaced out. heeseung laughs softly, this is exactly how he wants you. “can’t live without me can you?”
“i love you”
acceptance creeps in slowly— there’s no escape from this, from him. he’ll continue to mess you about and you’ll stay. you’ll stay ever single fucking time.
written for the heart’s mailroom event ! ༊
✷ lee heeseung is in need of his stupidly hot girlfriend, a.k.a. you. after seven agonizing days of distance, unanswered yearning, and an alarming amount of time spent staring at your photos, he's hanging onto his sanity by a thread. unfortunately for him, you finally come home looking even better than he remembered !
🗯️ 内容 explicit sexual content ♫ 18+ ⸝⸝ intended for mature audiences | minors do not interact ᯓ established relationship, clingy!heeseung, needy!heeseung, mutual pining, masturbation is implied for both parties, dacryphilia, overstimulation, degradation kink, edging, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampie !
EL’S ✷ BUBBLE : goodness gracious hi again everybody . . . again i spent like 3-4 days going back and forth with this and brah sorry i just kept laughing my ass off because from start to finish this is literally just smut so eeeerm whatever this is just 7k words of absolute bullshit ! request can be found here, thank u! ( •̀ ω •́ )
The worst part wasn't the distance. It wasn't the timezone difference or the spotty hotel Wi-Fi or the way your voice cracked over FaceTime at 2 AM his time when you thought he was already asleep but he never was.
The worst part was the photos.
You knew exactly what you were doing.
You had to.
There was no universe where you posted that bikini photo, the one where the teal fabric clung to your tits like it was painted on, water droplets rolling down your collarbone, sun making your skin glow like something divine, and didn't know what it would do to him.
Heeseung had been the first person to like it. Three seconds after it went up. He reshared it to his story with a black heart emoji and nobody understood why. His friends thought it was sweet. His followers assumed it was a casual boyfriend thing. But they didn't know that his hand was already down his sweatpants when he did it, that his cock was achingly hard and leaking against his palm, that the black heart was a coded message: I'm losing my fucking mind.
Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. He counted. He wasn't proud of it.
The first two days were manageable.
You sent him good morning texts with selfies, soft, sleepy, your hair messy and pillow creases on your cheek, and he could handle that. He'd smile at his phone like an idiot, type something disgusting like "you're so cute," and go about his day. But by day three, the photos started arriving. Not the public ones, those were a different kind of torture that he'd scroll through obsessively, zooming in on the curve of your waist, the glimpse of your thighs, the way your lips wrapped around that cocktail straw.
No, the private ones were what broke him.
The first was innocent enough. You were changing after the beach, and you sent a mirror selfie from the hotel bathroom — your damp hair, a white shirt that was slightly see-through from the moisture, clinging to the shape of your breasts, nipples pressing faintly against the fabric, and a pair of black panties underneath. That was it. Just that. You added a caption: "oops, forgot u were on read " and he stopped breathing for a full five seconds.
He screenshotted it. He hated himself for it. He screenshotted it and then he stared at it for twenty minutes, thumb hovering over the call button, cock throbbing in his jeans, and he didn't call because he knew if he heard your voice right then he'd say something pathetic. Something like “please come home” or “I need you so bad it's making me sick” or “I've been hard for three hours and I can't make it stop.”
So he jerked off instead. Right there on the couch, phone in one hand, cock in the other, scrolling through your story, pausing on every frame where your body was visible.
He came embarrassingly fast, under two minutes, with a broken sound that was half moan, half whine, hips bucking up into his fist, and when it was over he felt worse. Not better. Worse. Because his hand wasn't your hand, wasn't your mouth, wasn't your body, and his own orgasm felt like a consolation prize compared to what he actually wanted.
He cleaned up and stared at the ceiling and missed you so much it felt like a physical wound.
Day four was when you sent the photo. He'd later think of it that way, with reverential dread, the way people talk about natural disasters that ruin their lives.
It was a full body shot. You were wearing his black shorts, the ones that were baggy on you, the ones you'd stolen from his drawer before you left, the ones that had to be pinned at the back with a safety pin because they wouldn't stay up. They were slung low on your hips, and he could see the edge of your panties sticking out from underneath, pale pink, a thin strip of lace, the kind you wore when you wanted to feel pretty and not when you wanted to be practical.
Above the waistband, your bare stomach, your navel, and then just a bra, black, simple, pushing your breasts up in a way that made his mouth water. And your hand. Your hand was on your breast, fingers splayed, cupping it through the fabric, and you were looking at the camera with this expression that knowing. It was cruel. You knew what this would do to him. You were doing it on purpose.
His favorite. His absolute favorite. He saved it, he screenshotted it, he sent it to his hidden album, and then he put his phone down and pressed his palms against his eyes and breathed through the wave of arousal that hit him so hard it made his vision blur.
you're wearing my shorts 🤨
That's what he texted you. That's all he could manage.
yeahhh 😿 they smell like u & imy already 🙁 i sleep in them every night, you sent back.
He threw his phone across the couch.
Then he picked it back up, because of course he did.
Day five, you sent nudes. Not even strategically angled ones, real ones, the kind that left nothing to imagination. You were changing, you said, and you just had to show him. Your breasts, bare, your nipples peaked from the air conditioning, one arm stretched out holding the phone, the other covering just enough to be teasing but not enough to hide anything. A second photo: your back, arched, looking over your shoulder, the curve of your ass in those white panties, the dip of your spine, and he could see the strap marks from your bikini, tan lines that made him want to trace them with his tongue.
He sent a voicemail back. He couldn't type. He couldn't form words. So he hit record, and the sound that came out of him was filthy. He was jerking himself off, fast and wet, and he didn't even try to be quiet about it.
He let you hear everything: the slick sound of his fist, the desperate little "hah, hah" of his breathing, the whine that built in his throat, the way he said your name like a prayer and a curse at the same time. "Fuck, baby, I—I need you so bad, I can't—"and then he came, mid-sentence, with a broken moan that cracked at the end, and the voicemail ended with him panting, shaky, barely audible: "Please come home."
You sent back a voice note of your own. Just your voice, breathy and amused: "Aww. Poor baby." And then, softer, almost tender: "Four more days. You can last four more days, right?"
He couldn't. He really, truly couldn't.
Day six, the sexting happened. It started with a check-in, him asking if you'd eaten, if you were staying hydrated, if you were wearing sunscreen, and somehow, inevitably, it derailed. You told him you'd been thinking about him on the beach. About how the water felt, cold and slippery against your skin, and how you wished it was his hands instead. How you'd touched yourself in the shower that morning and imagined it was him, imagined him pressing you against the tile, imagined his mouth on your neck, his fingers inside you.
He was hard before you finished the second message.
"I want to eat you out so bad," he typed, not even caring how desperate he sounded. "I want to put my mouth on you and not stop until you're crying."
"You want to make me cry?"
"I want to make you feel so good you can't help it. I want to taste you. I want—I want—" He couldn't finish. He was too busy coming again, cock pulsing in his grip, spurting over his knuckles, and he hadn't even been looking at anything. Just the words on his screen. Just the thought of you. He came from reading a text message.
Heeseung, twenty-five years old, who prided himself on at least a little stamina, came from words on a screen like a fucking teenager, and he groaned through it, jaw clenched, and thought: I am so, so fucked.
Day seven, the last day, he didn't even touch himself. He just lay in bed and stared at your photos and throbbed. His cock was so hard it ached, flushed and angry and leaking, and he didn't wrap his hand around it because he knew it would be over in seconds and he'd feel even emptier afterward. He just let himself suffer. He let the want build until it was a living thing in his chest, a hollow hunger that no amount of his own touch could fill.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow you'd be home.
He didn't sleep.
You walked through the door at exactly 4:47 PM, and Heeseung was already standing in the hallway like he'd been waiting there for hours, which he had been, since you'd texted him your flight landed, since you'd texted him you were in the cab, since you'd texted him you were five minutes away.
He was wearing his grey sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt and his hair was messy and he looked like he hadn't slept in a week, and the look on his face when he saw you—
It was hunger. Pure, unfiltered, desperate hunger.
And you looked so fucking good. That was the thing. You knew you did. You'd changed at the airport, into the tiniest denim shorts you owned, the ones that barely covered the bottom curve of your ass, the ones that rode up when you walked. A white tank top, thin enough that the outline of your bikini top was visible underneath, thin enough that if you took that off there would be nothing between your nipples and the fabric but air. Your skin was tanned and glowing and you smelled like coconut and sunlight and he was on you before you even set your suitcase down.
"I missed you," he breathed against your mouth, and then he was kissing you, hands everywhere, your waist, your hips, sliding down to grip your ass through those ridiculous shorts, and he was already hard. You could feel him against your thigh, thick and hot, and he was pressing into you like he couldn't help it, like his body was moving on autopilot, chasing contact.
"I missed you too, baby," you murmured against his lips, and you felt him shiver at the endearment. Your hands came up to card through his hair, and you tugged, just a gentle pull, just enough to tilt his head back, and his breath caught audibly. A small, broken sound that went straight between your legs.
Heeseung, your boyfriend, your pathetic, beautiful, desperate boy, was already trembling.
"Let me—can I—" He couldn't finish a sentence. His hands were shaking where they gripped your waist. He was looking at you with those big, dark eyes, pupils blown so wide the brown was barely visible, and there was a flush creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks pink. "Please. I need—it's been a week and I can't—"
"Can't what?" you asked, and your voice was low and teasing, a dangerous lilt that made his cock twitch. You knew exactly what he couldn't do. You wanted to hear him say it.
"I can't think about anything except you," he said, and his voice cracked on the word you, cracked like he was about to cry, and god, that did something to you. "I've been—I've been so hard, all week, and my hand isn't enough, and I keep coming but it doesn't help, and I—"
"Shh," you said, and you pressed your thumb to his lower lip, and his mouth fell open instantly, pliant and willing, and his tongue darted out to wet the pad of your thumb and you felt a pulse of heat between your thighs. "I'm here now. I'm going to take care of you, okay?"
He nodded frantically, your thumb still on his lips, and he looked so pretty like this — desperate and flushed and hanging on your every word.
You pulled his hair again, harder this time, and he moaned. Actually moaned, loud and shameless, head tipping back to expose the long line of his throat, and you took the opportunity to bite his neck, not gently, not a love bite, a real bite, teeth sinking into the muscle, and he bucked against you with a sound that was dangerously close to a whimper.
"Bedroom," you said.
Heeseung was on the bed before you finished the word, sitting on the edge, looking up at you with those wide, eager eyes, and you stood between his spread legs and looked down at him and felt powerful. You felt powerful alright. This boy, this beautiful, needy, pathetic boy, was literally shaking with want for you, and you'd barely touched him.
You reached down and took off your tank top, slow, dragging it up your body, and his eyes tracked the movement like he was hypnotized. Underneath was the bikini top, teal, the same one from the photo, the one he'd jerked off to four times. Your breasts were spilling out of it, the fabric barely containing them, and he made a sound — not a word, just a noise, like all the air had been punched out of him.
"You like this one?" you asked, running a finger along the edge of the fabric, pushing your breast up slightly. "You seemed to. You watched the story it was in about forty times."
"I—" His voice was raw. "I lost count."
"Take off your shirt."
He ripped it off so fast the seams made a sound, and his chest was heaving, skin flushed pink from his collarbones to his stomach, and you could see the tent in his sweatpants, could see the dark spot of precum soaking through the grey fabric. He was leaking. Just from this. Just from you standing in front of him in a bikini top.
"You're already making a mess," you observed, and you reached down and ran a single finger along the length of his cock through his pants, feather-light, and he jerked like he'd been electrocuted. His hips chased your hand the moment you pulled away, thrusting up into empty air, and he let out a whine that was so pitiful, so utterly desperate, that you felt your own arousal pulse, hot and slick, between your legs.
"Please touch me," he begged. "Please, I need—"
"In a minute." You unbuttoned your shorts and shimmied them down your legs, and underneath were the black panties. The ones from the mirror photo. The see-through ones. And he was staring at them like he was having a religious experience, mouth open, breath ragged, and you could see his cock twitch in his pants, could see another pulse of precum darken the fabric.
"Remember these?" You turned around slowly, letting him see the back, the sheer fabric clinging to the curve of your ass, the lace trim riding up just slightly, and you looked over your shoulder at him and bit your lip. "You came so hard to this picture. I heard the voicemail, baby. You sounded so pathetic. So needy. Were you that desperate for me?"
"Yes," he choked out. "Yes, I was—I am—please—"
You turned back around and stepped closer, close enough that if he leaned forward his face would be inches from your body, and you reached behind yourself and unclasped the bikini top. It fell away, and your breasts were bare, nipples hard from the cool air and from the way he was looking at you, like he was starving and you were the first meal he'd seen in a week.
He lunged forward, mouth open, aiming for your breast, and you grabbed his hair and pulled him back.
"Did I say you could touch?"
The sound he made was devastating. A sob, cut off halfway, and his eyes were wet, actually wet, glassy with unshed tears, and his lower lip was trembling, and he looked so wrecked, so utterly desperate, that for a moment you almost caved. Almost. But you wanted to draw this out. You wanted to make it good.
"Tell me what you want," you said.
"I want—I want to taste you." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I want to put my mouth on you. I want—gosh, I want to eat you out so bad, I've been thinking about it all week, thinking about how you'd sound, how you'd feel on my tongue, and I—"
"Then do it."
He didn't need to be told twice.
His hands grabbed your hips and he pulled you forward and pressed his face between your legs, mouth against your pussy through the sheer fabric of your panties, and you felt the heat of his breath, the desperate slide of his tongue against the wet material. He was moaning into you, actual moans, vibrating against your clit, and the fabric was getting wetter, your wetness, his saliva, the barrier between his tongue and you becoming translucent with moisture.
"Take them off," you said, breathless, and he hooked his fingers in the waistband and dragged them down so fast the lace scratched against your thighs, and then his mouth was on you, bare, and—
Fuck.
He was good at this. He'd always been good at this, enthusiastic and sloppy and absolutely relentless, but today, after a week of wanting, a week of desperate late-night phone calls and photos and voicemails, he ate you out like he was dying. His tongue was everywhere, broad strokes through your folds, pointed flicks against your clit, and then he sucked your clit into his mouth and you gasped and your hand flew to his hair and pulled and he whimpered against you, the vibration making your knees buckle.
"Shit, baby—"
He looked up at you from between your thighs, lips swollen and glistening, chin wet, eyes glassy and pleading, and he didn't stop, he kept licking, kept sucking, kept making those small, desperate sounds against your body, and you could feel his hips rutting against the edge of the mattress, grinding against nothing, chasing friction because he was so turned on he couldn't help it.
You pushed him back, and he made a sound of protest, raw and bereft, but you were climbing onto the bed, straddling his face, and then you lowered yourself onto his mouth and he grabbed your thighs and held you there and devoured you.
His tongue was inside you, then on your clit, then inside again, and he was making sounds like he was the one being eaten out, little muffled whimpers and moans, and you were grinding against his face, chasing the pleasure, and you felt it building, that tight coil in your abdomen, and—
"I'm going—fuck, baby, I’m going to come on your face," you told him, and he doubled his efforts, tongue working your clit in fast, tight circles, and you came with a cry, thighs clamping around his head, body arching, and he kept going, kept licking you through it, kept moaning like your orgasm was his own, and when you finally pulled away, shaking, he was gasping for air and his chin was drenched and he was looking up at you with absolute, total devotion.
"Good boy," you murmured, and he shuddered. Actually shuddered, full-body, and you felt his cock jerk where it pressed against your thigh through his sweatpants. "You made me feel so good. You always do."
"Please," he whispered, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Just one, sliding from the corner of his eye, and he didn't seem to notice it. "Please, I need—I need to be inside you, I need—"
"Not yet." You climbed off his face and positioned yourself beside him, and you reached down and palmed his cock through his sweatpants, and he arched off the bed with a strangled cry. The fabric was soaked. Not just damp, soaked, a huge dark patch of precum, and you could feel how hard he was, how thick and hot and desperate, and you squeezed gently and his entire body seized.
"You're so wet," you said, rubbing your palm over the head through the fabric, spreading the moisture, and he was twitching uncontrollably, hips jerking up into your hand. "You've been leaking all day, haven't you? Just thinking about me coming home?"
"All week," he corrected, voice breaking. "All week, I've been—"
"Take this off."
He shoved his sweatpants down, kicked them off, and his cock sprang free, flushed dark, the head an angry red, slick with precum that was dripping down the shaft in a steady stream. He was so hard, veins prominent, twitching in the open air, and you wrapped your hand around the base and his whole body spasmed.
"Ah—fuck, fuck—"
You stroked him once, slow, from base to tip, spreading his precum, and his head fell back against the pillows and his mouth fell open and the sound that came out of him was barely human. You stroked him again, and he was already close, you could tell, his thighs trembling, stomach clenching, and you tightened your grip just slightly and twisted on the upstroke and he screamed.
Not a moan. A scream. Raw and desperate and overwhelmed, and his hips were bucking up into your fist, chasing the sensation, and you could feel him throbbing in your hand, getting close, getting—
You let go.
He sobbed. Actually sobbed, chest heaving, cock bobbing in the air, flushed and leaking and so close to the edge that a single touch would have sent him over, and tears were streaming down his face now, not just one but two wet tracks down his cheeks, and he was looking at you with the most destroyed expression you'd ever seen on another human being.
"Why—" his voice cracked, shattered, "why did you stop—"
"Because I want to do something else first." You shifted, repositioned, and you wrapped your hand around him again and leaned down and took the head of his cock into your mouth.
The sound he made was not a word. It was not a moan. It was something between a gasp and a wail, and his hands flew to your hair, not pushing, just holding, fingers tangling in the strands, and his whole body was trembling like a live wire.
You swirled your tongue around the tip, tasting him, and then you sank down, taking him deeper, hollowing your cheeks, and he was falling apart above you.
"Oh god, oh god, oh—your mouth, your mouth feels so—I'm going to—I'm going to come, I can't—"
You pulled off with a slick pop and squeezed the base of his cock, hard, and he yelled, and the orgasm that had been building was throttled, stopped just short of the peak, and he was crying openly now, tears running freely, lower lip caught between his teeth, and the sounds coming out of him were sobs and whimpers and fragmented syllables that might have been your name.
"Please let me come," he begged, and his voice was so raw, so ruined, that you felt a rush of wetness between your own thighs. "Please, I can't—it hurts, I need to come so bad, please—"
"I know, baby," you murmured, and you stroked his hair back from his forehead, gentle now, tender, and he leaned into your touch like a touch-starved animal. "I know it hurts. You've been so good for me. So patient and all. Let me make you feel better."
You reached between your legs with your free hand, you were soaking, absolutely drenched, your fingers sliding through your folds with no resistance, and you touched yourself while you stroked him, and the dual sensation made you both groan. You rubbed your clit in slow circles while you jerked him off, and you were so turned on from watching him fall apart, from the power of having this beautiful, desperate boy at your mercy, that you were already close to another orgasm.
"You want to know a secret?" you asked, voice low and sultry, and he blinked up at you through tear-blurred eyes. "I touched myself thinking about you too. On the trip. In the hotel room. I'd look at the photos you sent—your voice notes, those sounds you made—and I'd fuck myself with my fingers and pretend it was you."
He twitched violently in your hand, and a fresh wave of precum spilled over your fingers.
"I'd come so hard, baby," you continued, squeezing him, stroking faster, your other hand working your own clit in matching rhythm. "But it wasn't enough. My fingers aren't your cock. My fingers aren't you. I needed you just as bad as you needed me."
"I needed you more," he gasped, and it was so pathetic, so utterly heartfelt, that you felt your orgasm crash into you without warning, your body seizing, cunt clenching around nothing, and you moaned loud and long, and the sound of your pleasure pushed him right to the edge again and this time you didn't stop.
You felt the moment he broke.
His cock pulsed once, twice, and then he was coming, thick ropes of cum spurting over your hand, over his stomach, and he was crying out, sounds, raw and broken and overwhelmed, and his whole body was arching off the bed, and the tears were flowing freely now, mixing with the sweat on his face, and you kept stroking him through it, kept your hand moving, and he kept coming, more than you'd ever seen from him, spurt after spurt, and you realized he was still hard. Still hard and still coming and his body didn't know when to stop because it had been wound so tight for so long that the release was overflowing.
"Stop, stop, it's too much—" he sobbed, and you let go, and he lay there, wrecked, chest heaving, cum splattered across his stomach and your hand, tears on his face, and his cock was still hard, still flushed and twitching, and you knew one orgasm wasn't going to be enough. Not after a week. Not after all that buildup.
"That's one," you said, and you brought your cum-covered hand to your lips and licked a stripe up your palm, tasting him, and his eyes went impossibly wide and his spent cock actually jerked back to full attention. "You've got more in you, don't you?"
He nodded, wordless, still crying, and you thought he'd never looked more beautiful.
You stripped off your panties, the last remaining piece of clothing on your body, and you straddled his waist, and you felt his cum between your bodies, slick and warm against your stomach, and you didn't care. You wanted to be messy. You wanted this to be filthy. You wanted him to remember what it felt like when you finally, finally gave him what he'd been begging for.
"I'm going to ride you now," you told him, and you saw the hope bloom in his eyes, the desperate, grateful hope, and you leaned down and kissed him, properly kissed him, tongue in his mouth, tasting yourself on his lips from when he'd gone down on you, and he kissed back frantically, hands coming up to cup your face, and he was making small sounds into your mouth, little whimpers and sighs, and you could feel his cock pressing against your ass, hot and hard and still leaking.
You reached behind you and positioned him at your entrance, and you sank down, just the tip, just the head, and you both groaned. He was big, you'd forgotten, in a week, just how big, how the stretch of him made your walls flutter and clench, and he was so sensitive from his first orgasm that the mere sensation of your heat around the head of his cock had him whimpering, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise.
"More," he gasped. "Please, more—"
You sank down, slow, torturous, and you watched his face as you did, the way his eyes rolled back, the way his jaw dropped, the way his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. When you bottomed out, when he was fully inside you, you paused, and you felt him throbbing, felt every twitch and pulse, and you clenched around him deliberately and he sobbed.
"Don't—please—if you do that, fuck—I'll—"
"You'll what? Come again?" You clenched harder, and he cried out, hands scrabbling at your hips. "That's the point, baby. I want you to come inside me. I want to feel it. I've been thinking about this all week—your cock inside me, filling me up, making me yours again."
More tears fell, and you realized he wasn't crying from sadness or from pain. He was crying from feeling. From the overwhelming intensity of finally, finally having you, finally being inside you, after a week of his own inadequate hand and your cruel, beautiful photos. He was crying because it felt too good to process. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm—"
You started to move. Slow at first, a grinding roll of your hips that pressed his cock against your front wall, against that spot that made your vision blur, and you braced your hands on his chest and rolled your hips and watched him fall apart beneath you. He was gone. Completely gone. His head was thrown back, throat exposed, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed convulsively, and his hands were on your hips, holding on. Holding on like you were the only solid thing in a world that was spinning too fast.
"Faster," he begged. "Please, faster, harder—"
You obeyed. You lifted your hips and slammed back down, and the sound that rang out was so obscene that he yelled, and you did it again, and again, setting a brutal pace, riding him hard, and the angle was perfect, the pressure on your clit from the base of his dick, the stretch of him inside you, and you were already close again, already feeling that coil tightening.
"Touch me," you commanded, and his hands flew to your breasts, squeezing, thumbs rolling over your nipples, and you moaned and threw your head back and bounced on his cock harder, and he was meeting your thrusts now, hips snapping up to meet you, and the wet slap of your bodies was the filthiest, most beautiful sound in the world.
"You feel so good," he gasped, voice raw and destroyed. "You feel so fucking good, I can't—I'm not going to last—"
"Then don't." You leaned down and bit his earlobe, then whispered against the shell of his ear: "Come inside me. Fill me up. I want to feel it dripping out of me for the rest of the night."
He shattered. His back arched off the bed, his fingers dug bruises into your hips, and he came with a sound that was closer to a scream than a moan, long, drawn-out, broken in the middle by a sob, and you felt it, felt the pulse of his cock inside you, felt the heat of his cum flooding you, and it pushed you over the edge too, your orgasm ripping through you, cunt clenching and fluttering around him, milking every last drop, and you collapsed against his chest and both of you were shaking, trembling, crying — the hell, when had you started crying?
You didn't know, but your bodies were tangled together and it was too much, everything was too much, in the best possible way.
You lay there for a long moment, catching your breath, his cock softening inside you, and you felt the trickle of his cum leaking out around the seal of your bodies, and he was still sniffling, still trembling, and you pressed kisses to his jaw, his cheek, his tear-streaked face, and he turned into your touch like a flower toward the sun.
But this was the thing about Heeseung, you shifted your hips slightly, and you felt it. Still half-hard. Twitching. Recovering. And you knew, with a rush of heat between your legs, that he wasn't done.
Neither were you.
"Baby," you murmured against his ear, and you felt him shiver. "You still want more?"
"I always want more," he whispered, and his voice was wrecked, hoarse from crying and moaning, and the honesty in it made your cunt clench around his half-hard cock and he hissed. "I always want you. It’ll never be enough."
"You’re too greedy, no? How can someone be that greedy," you teased, and you bit your lip and looked down at him through your lashes, and his eyes darkened.
"Only for you."
You lifted your hips and let him slip out. You saw the mess, his cum and yours, smeared across his stomach and yours, and you reached down and ran your fingers through it, and you brought them to his lips, and he opened his mouth without hesitation, sucking your fingers clean, tongue swirling around the digits, and his cock, which had been softening, jerked back to full hardness.
"Dirty boy," you murmured, and he flushed darker, and you saw the conflict on his face, shame and arousal warring behind his eyes, and arousal won, as it always did with him. "You like being dirty for me, don't you?"
"I like being anything for you," he said, and it was the most sincere thing anyone had ever said to you.
You turned around. You positioned yourself on your hands and knees, and you looked over your shoulder at him, and you stuck your tongue out, just a little, just a tease, the way you knew drove him insane, and you wiggled your hips and said: "Then come prove it."
He was behind you in a second. His hands gripped your ass, spreading you open, and you felt his gaze on you, on your pussy, still dripping with his cum, still puffy and flushed from your orgasms, and he groaned, low and hungry, and you felt his cock press against your entrance.
"Wait," you said, and he froze instantly, ever obedient, ever desperate to please. "I want you to eat me out first. Again. I want your tongue inside me again. Then you can fuck me."
He didn't hesitate. His face was between your legs again, tongue sliding through your folds, tasting both of you and he moaned against you like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted. His tongue pushed inside you, fucking you with it, and you could feel his cum dripping onto his tongue, and he was swallowing it, swallowing everything, and the obscenity of it had you pushing back against his face, grinding, chasing more.
"Such a good boy," you gasped, and he whimpered into you, and you felt fresh tears, his tears this time, wetting the inside of your thighs as they fell, and the vulnerability of it, the raw submission, had you hurtling toward another orgasm. "My good boy. Only mine. Nobody else gets to see you like this, nobody else gets to have you—"
"Only you," he confirmed against your body, the words muffled by your pussy, vibrating against your clit. "Only you, only you, only—"
You came on his tongue, again, thighs shaking, and he held you up and licked you through it and when you finally pulled away you were boneless and trembling and he was looking at you with those red-rimmed, tear-stained, absolutely wrecked eyes, cock jutting out from his body, hard as steel, and you felt a rush of tenderness so fierce it almost hurt.
"Come here," you said softly, and you turned onto your back and opened your arms, and he crawled up your body and kissed you, and you tasted yourself and him on his tongue, and you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him into you in one fluid motion.
He sank to the hilt and you both gasped, and this time it was slower, not the frantic, desperate pace of before, but something deeper. He was moving in long, grinding strokes, hitting every sensitive spot inside you, and his forehead was pressed against yours, and you could see his eyes up close, overflowing with feeling, and you cupped his face and brushed the tears away with your thumbs and he turned his head to kiss your palm.
"I love you," he whispered, and his voice broke on love, broke open like he couldn't contain it, and you pulled his hair and he moaned and you bit your lip and he watched your mouth like it was the center of the universe.
"I love you more," you said, and then you tightened your legs around his waist and rolled your hips and he made a sound that was half sob, half moan, and you swallowed it with a kiss.
He fucked you slower but deeper, each thrust deliberate, purposeful, hitting that spot that made your breath catch, and you could feel another orgasm building, your fourth, his third, and this one felt different, bigger, like something immense was gathering at the base of your spine, and you broke the kiss and gasped against his mouth.
"I'm close," you warned, and he nodded, and his pace increased, hips snapping faster, and he was hitting so deep, so perfect, and you were clenching around him, and he was groaning with every thrust, and—
"I'm—I can't—" He was crying again, silent tears streaming, and his face was scrunched up in an expression that was almost pain, almost pleasure, something in between that was too intense to name. "I'm going to—again—"
"Do it," you commanded. "Come with me. Now."
You clenched around him and his mouth fell open in a silent scream, and you felt him pulse inside you, felt the heat of his cum, and that triggered your own orgasm, this one different, deeper, your whole body shaking, cunt clenching rhythmically around him, and you were both crying, both gasping, both clinging to each other like you were the only two people in the world, and he was still thrusting through it, shallow and twitching, and you could feel the overstimulation making him shake, making his breath come in hitches and hiccups, and he collapsed against you, full body weight pressing you into the mattress, and you held him and he sobbed against your neck.
"I'm sorry," he wept, and you could feel his tears hot against your skin. "I can't stop crying, I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize," you said, and your own voice was thick, wavering. "Don't you dare apologize. That was—you were perfect. You're always perfect."
He lifted his head and looked at you, face blotchy and wet and so, so beautiful, and you kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and he smiled, and you felt your heart crack open in your chest.
"You're mine," you told him, and it wasn't a question.
"Yours," he agreed, and he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in, and you felt his cock twitch one last time inside you, and you both laughed, the sound of it echoing off the walls of your shared apartment, your home, the place where you belonged, together, tangled up in each other and the mess you'd made.
Later, much later, after showers and water bottles and the kind of gentle, exploratory touching that was less about arousal and more about reassurance, you lay tangled in bed together, your head on his chest, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your shoulder.
"I have a confession," he said quietly.
"More confessions? After all that?"
"I screenshot every photo you sent. Even the ones from your public story. I have a whole album."
You laughed, bright and surprised. "I know. I can see your screenshots."
He groaned, covering his face with his free hand. "Fuck, that's so embarrassing."
"That's so hot," you corrected, and you bit his chest playfully, and he squirmed. "I love that you were that desperate for me. I love that I had you on a chokehold."
"You always have me on a chokehold," he muttered, and there was no heat in it, just fact. Just the simple, unvarnished truth. "You could wear a garbage bag and I'd still be hard for you in three seconds."
"Ew, that's so… disgusting and romantic and I'm going to think about it every time I miss you."
"Don't go anywhere for a while," he said, and his voice was small, and when you looked up at him his eyes were earnest and vulnerable and still slightly red from crying. "Please."
You reached up and stroked his hair, and he melted into the touch, and you pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw.
"I'm not going anywhere," you promised. "I just got back to you."
He pulled you closer, tighter, like he could fold you into himself and keep you there permanently, and you let him. You let him cling and you clung back, because the truth, the truth that neither of you said out loud but both of you knew, was that the desperation went both ways. You'd sent those photos on purpose, sure, but not just to tease. You'd sent them because you needed him to want you. You needed to feel wanted from five hundred miles away. You needed proof that the ache was mutual.
And it was. God, it was.
"I'm already hard again," he mumbled against your hair, and you felt the evidence pressing against your thigh, and you laughed again, incredulous, fond, so deeply in love it made your chest hurt.
"What a weirdo," you accused.
"Only for you," he said, and it was the second time he'd said it tonight, and you believed it completely.
You rolled on top of him and pinned his wrists to the pillow and leaned down and whispered against his lips: "Then let's go again."
And his eyes lit up, bright, eager, desperate, yours, and he said:
✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !
YAY thank you for the tag zanna! what sucks is that most of my biases have left their groups (in this year ALONE) 😭 that is NOT stopping me from adding them though!!
in order: vernon, dk (svt - ults), martin (cortis), keeho (p1h), hueningkai (txt), maki (&team), hongjoong, yunho (ateez), heeseung (ex-enha), ricky (ex-zb1, and2ble), mark lee (ex-nct, soloist)
tagging @yumangel @parkersroses @realmofclouds @reisdoll and any others who want to join!!
⎯⎯⎯ tag 🏷️; @xominji , @miellette , @boy2kz, @enlov3vampxo , @virtualfangs333 , @sunoovamp sorry if you have alrdy done this or got tagged ! (optional ofc)
ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑) ੈ Hehe, thank you for tagging me and letting me join this one! 💗 Honestly, I don't really have a single ult bias I love all of them. 😗 But I guess these are the ones who have a special place in my heart :)) come and join
૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა jimin ( bts ) wonwoo ( svt ) Minji ( nwjns ) Sunoo ( enha ) Sungho ( bnd ) Lia ( itzy ) jihyo ( twice ) karina ( aespa ) Jisoo ( bp ) many more
— (❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ 🔖 @makeitworse @matzism @ptolemaeiia @envil @hoonguin @hoondrop @cherrywOn @cutehoons92 @hoonstrology @nikidikiy @dollhoonki @lac4ygal including you
biases in order: Evan/Heeseung(idk to put Enhypen or not), Yeonjun(txt), Jennie(blackpink), Yunjin(le sserafim), Jaehyun(boynextdoor), Wonhee(illit), Ahyeon(babymonster), Keonho(cortis), Minji(new jeans)
pairing: jay x reader || wc: 1.9k || cw: smut! established relationship, kissing, making out, breast/nipple play, p in v, light begging, dirty talk, praise, use of petnames, strong language || warnings: +18 content, mdni! || a/n: based on this request and OH MY GOD ,,,, the header is horrendous don’t mind it
it happens on a random monday evening, on an ordinary night that shouldn’t feel this electric.
you’re in jay’s apartment again, the one with the big windows overlooking the city lights and the faint scent of his cologne lingering on every surface.
you were supposed to be talking, only a playful, little chat between boyfriend and girlfriend. but somewhere between his teasing words and your growing boldness, it turned into you straddling his lap on the couch, mouths fused together in a slow, hungry makeout.
jay’s hands rest heavy on your hips, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke warm circles against your skin.
he kisses like he has all the time in the world and yet can’t get enough, tongue sliding against yours in lazy strokes that make your head spin. you sigh into his mouth, fingers threading through his dark hair, tugging lightly the way he likes. he groans softly, the sound vibrating between you.
curious and a little greedy, your hands wander lower, sliding from his shoulders down his chest. his shirt is unbuttoned halfway — a casualty of earlier teasing — and your palms press flat against the firm warmth of his pecs. you squeeze experimentally, thumbs brushing over the flat discs of his nipples, and jay jolts like he’s been shocked.
a sharp, broken inhale escapes him. his hips twitch up against yours involuntarily, and the kiss falters for half a second.
you pull back just enough to look at him, lips still brushing. “jay?”
his cheeks are flushed, eyes darker than usual, pupils blown wide. he tries to play it cool, clearing his throat. “nothing. keep going.”
but you’re not stupid. you repeat the motion — slower this time, thumbs circling his nipples deliberately. they harden instantly under your touch, and jay’s head falls back against the couch with a low, wrecked sound.
“fuck,” he breathes, voice rough. “they’re… sensitive.”
your heart skips. a rush of heat floods through you as the realization sinks in. park jongseong — calm, teasing, always-in-control jay — has sensitive nipples. the discovery feels like unlocking a secret weapon. you test it again, pinching one lightly between thumb and forefinger, and his reaction is immediate: a full-body shiver, fingers digging harder into your hips, a quiet whimper slipping out before he can swallow it.
“oh my god,” you whisper, fascinated. “you really like that.”
he doesn’t deny it. instead he pulls you back down into a kiss that’s suddenly much messier, more desperate. from that moment on, nothing is ever the same.
after that night, you become obsessed.
there are no more dull moments when you’re together. you find excuses to touch him there constantly. during a movie night when you’re curled up against his side, your hand slips under his hoodie without warning, fingers seeking out the soft, squishy flesh of his pecs. you knead them gently, thumbs flicking over his nipples until they pebble, and jay’s breath hitches mid-sentence, the popcorn bowl nearly forgotten in his lap.
“baby,” he mutters, voice strained, but he doesn’t stop you. if anything, he arches slightly into your touch, chest pushing forward like he’s offering himself up.
in public it’s subtler but still dangerous. a quick hug hello turns into your palms pressing against his chest “by accident,” pinching lightly through his shirt when no one’s looking. his ears go red every single time, jaw clenching as he fights to keep a straight face while talking to sunghoon or whoever else is around. you love the power of it — how this composed man turns into putty the second your hands find his chest.
makeout sessions become something else entirely.
you push him against the wall one afternoon after work, hands already working his shirt open before the door even clicks shut. your mouth trails from his lips to his neck, then lower, while your fingers never leave his pecs — squeezing, rolling his nipples, pinching just hard enough to make his knees weaken. jay moans openly now, head back against the wall, hips grinding helplessly against yours.
“you’re going to kill me,” he pants, but his hands cradle the back of your head like he never wants you to stop. “fuck, i love when you play with them.”
you hum in satisfaction and latch your mouth onto one nipple, sucking hard. jay’s hand flies to your hair, gripping tight as a broken whimper escapes him. you lick and bite gently, alternating sides, leaving faint red marks that bloom into soft hickeys by the next morning. he never complains. if anything, he wears the collar of his shirts a little lower those days, like he secretly hopes you’ll do it again.
the obsession peaks during sex.
one night you’re riding him slow and deep, the room filled with the wet sounds of skin and heavy breathing. jay’s hands are everywhere — on your ass, your waist, your breasts — but you can tell he’s holding back, eyes glassy with pleasure. you lean down, changing the angle, and drag your nails lightly over his chest before pinching both nipples at once.
jay’s reaction is visceral. his back arches clean off the bed, a loud, needy moan ripping from his throat. “shit— baby, please—”
“please what?” you ask sweetly, rolling your hips while continuing to toy with him. you pinch and tug, then soothe with your palms, squeezing the soft muscle of his pecs.
his eyes squeeze shut, lips parted. “touch me there… harder. fuck, i love your hands on my chest. don’t stop— please don’t stop.”
he begs so prettily it makes you dizzy. and you give him exactly what he wants — licking broad stripes over his nipples, sucking them into your mouth until they’re swollen and glistening, biting down just enough to make him hiss and thrust up into you harder. you cover his chest in hickeys, little purple marks that claim him as yours. every time you press on one later, he’ll shiver and pull you in for a kiss.
and jay, never one to be outdone, returns the favor with devastating enthusiasm.
the first time he does it, you’re on your back, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you deep and steady. he moves his head closer, mouth latching onto your nipple without warning, sucking hard while his fingers play with the other. the dual sensation makes you cry out, back arching.
“jay—!”
he lifts his head just enough to smirk, eyes dark. “not so fun when it’s you, huh?” but his voice is wrecked, and he immediately goes back to it — licking, sucking, gently biting, mirroring everything you do to him. his hands knead your breasts possessively, thumbs flicking over your nipples until you’re shaking and clenching around him.
from then on it becomes mutual worship. lazy mornings turn into both of you tangled together, hands and mouths on each other’s chests, trading moans and whispers. he loves sucking on yours until you’re dripping and desperate, then sliding into you while still latched on. you love reducing him to whimpers and pleas by playing with his sensitive pecs until he’s rutting into you like he can’t control himself.
“you’re obsessed,” he teases one night, voice rough as you straddle him again, palms already cupping his chest, thumbs circling.
you pinch lightly and watch his eyes flutter. “says the guy who begs me to touch his tits every time we fuck.”
jay laughs breathlessly, the sound cutting off into a groan when you lean down and suck one nipple into your mouth. his hands fly to your ass, pulling you down onto him.
“guilty,” he admits, hips snapping up. “they’re yours now. do whatever you want.”
pairing: brothers best friend!heeseung x jake’s little sister!reader
synopsis: y/n is jake’s little sister, who seems to be interested in her brothers best friend, heeseung.
cw: cursing, lemme know if i missed anything
001 | 002 (here) | 003 | 004 | 005
•a/n: sorry for the waitt!!! i’ve been at school all day this week and finals are next week. anyways here is the long awaited part 2😭😭😭 hope yall like it and enjoyyy
IN WHICH. . . just when you thought you'd never be able to improve your horse riding skills, ningning told you that lee heeseung, the seasonal winner of the competition, had proposed to coach you. you agreed without hesitation, only to find out what you're riding isn't a horse but rather... heeseung himself?
5.5k wc⠀❀⠀ cowboy au ♪♪ pro horse rider lee heeseung x fem! reader 𐧘 explicit mature content, stable sex, unprotected sex, mild ass spanking, riding, face-sitting, messy kissing, creampie, oral sex (m and f receiving), usage of pet names, reader wears heeseung's hat.
from author: there's truly a severe lack of cowboy fics so i decided to cook a little something. bgdc heeseung, i still think about you... also not sure what to feel about this new post format hm hm.
"Damn, what the hell happened to you?" Ningning asked, eyes widening in horror at the sight of your… pitiful state.
You plopped down into the couch, body practically sinking into it as you groaned, cradling your bleeding elbow close to your stomach. Ningning approached you with a first-aid kit held in her left hand. She sat on your right, her knees brushing against yours as the couch sinking further from the additional weight.
You visibly jerked away the moment she dabbed the damp cotton pad against your wound, hissing in pain. "I was practicing and got thrown off," you muttered.
Your friend shot you a sympathetic look but you looked to the side, earning a sigh from her. "You need to stop doing this, (Name). You're only gonna hurt yourself if this goes on."
You tuned her out, pointedly looking out of the window on your right. Ningning sighed again, closing the first-aid kit once she's done.
"I'm gonna regret telling you this but I know someone who can teach you," she started, catching how your ears twitched at her words.
She took a deep breath and exhaled. "His name's Heeseung and—"
You shot up before she could finished her sentence. "Wait, did you just say Heeseung? As in the Lee Heeseung? The one who won first place at every competitions?"
Ningning nodded. "Yup, the very same man himself. He doesn't ride anymore, due to a mild injury. He reached out to me first, asking if you needed someone to… teach you."
Your eyes widened, nearly popping out of its sockets. "To teach me?" You repeated, "wait, when did he contact you? And why now?"
Your friend pursed her lips. "Because I'm worried about you! You're spending most of your time practicing. You're always injured whenever you came home. Who wouldn't be worried!"
"Ningning—"
She stopped when she realized she's getting ahead of herself, closing her eyes and internally count to three before reopening them, looking like she had surrendered, like she knew her words couldn't stopped you from chasing after your dreams.
"Just.. be careful," she ended.
You nodded, reaching over to place your hand over hers. "I will. I promise."
~
The next day, you found yourself standing in front of a lonely house.
There's nothing impressive about it at first glance, other than the large and an open-aired fenced up area with a few horses roaming about, their ears twitching. A sheltered stable was situated on the right of the area, where you're certain it's built for horses to take shelter from the harsh, unforgiving sunlight and heavy rain.
At first, you thought you've arrived at the wrong place. You squinted your eyes against the sun shining down on you ruthlessly, holding down your hair when a strong gust of wind blew past you, causing sand to slap lightly against your skin. But no matter where you looked, no one was around. You were about to walk away, feeling defeated when—
"Are you (Name)?"
You looked over your shoulder, body turning as still as a statue when your eyes landed on—what you probably think—is the most handsome man you've laid your eyes upon, in your entire life. His features looked as though they were carefully sculpted from a patient hand—sharp when they needed to be and soft where it mattered.
High cheekbones caught under the sunlight, casting subtle shadows across his face, while his jawline was clean and defined enough to make your stomach do an embarrassing little flip. A worn brown suede jacket hung loosely over his broad frame, the oversized collar lined with dark fur that softened his otherwise imposing appearance. Beneath it was a faded henley shirt, the top button left unbuttoned, showing off more of his sun-kissed skin of his neck and collarbones that made you want to sink your teeth into.
A plaid shirt was tied around his waist, adding another layer to the effortlessly rugged look. Combined with the dust coating his boots and the horses roaming around behind him, he looked like he belonged here.
For the past few seconds or minutes, all you could do was to stare. And it didn't go unnoticed by him, whose eyes gleamed in amusement.
"I'm guessing that's a yes," he said.
Your face flared up. "Uh—"
Great.
Your first ever face-to-face encounter with someone you highly respect and you've already made a fool of yourself. What you didn't know however, was how you're so caught up in your embarrassment to notice how his eyes darkened a shade, how he tongued his cheek as he greedily and shamelessly drink in your figure.
"I know why you're here," he said, saving you from further drowning in a pool of humiliation.
You blinked. "Oh really?"
Heeseung nodded and crossed his arms. "Yup, I saw you before, how you always watch the competitions and shoving your way to stand at the front."
Your ears turned red, not sure whether you should be flattered with the fact that he remembers you, out of everyone else among the audience or something else. You awkwardly cleared your throat, shuffling your feet on the spot, feeling unusually timid with his unwavering and intense gaze that never left your face.
"So, when do we begin?" You asked, managing to keep your voice even and steady despite how your heart's about to leap out of your throat.
The man cocked his head to the side. "What makes you think I'll say yes?"
You opened and closed your mouth, rendered speechless by the sheer audacity of the man. Heeseung laughed, the sound light and melodious. You sworn you heard faint wedding bells ringing in the distance, feeling all light-headed and floaty.
"I'm kidding, I won't go back on my words. I'm not that kind of person," he replied, gesturing for you to follow him as he turned.
You obliged, easily catching up to him and walked beside him, where he brought you over to the fenced up area—where a few nearby mares stopped to look at your approaching figures.
You gulped, entering once Heeseung pushed the fence opened. You watched as a horse headed to him, standing a few centimeters back to observe his interaction with the four-legged creature.
How his features softened as he talked to it in a hushed, comforting tone. The kind of tone one will used when talking to their partner. How he lovingly patted the horse, his calloused fingers brushing against its skin. How he chuckled when it nudged its nose against his neck, huffing out hot air, begging for more attention, similar to a spoiled house cat.
"It likes you. What's its name?" you asked, crossing your arms, unaware that you're smiling from the wholesome interaction.
Heeseung hummed, brushing his hand through the majestic stallion's mane. "Name's Stella, she's been my ride and die since I first saw her. She's very loyal too. Wouldn't let anyone else other than me ride her."
You nodded. "Loyalty is hard to earn. The fact she's loyal to you is an impressive feat of its own."
His lips curled up in a knowing smirk. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're hitting on me."
"Someone needs to knock that ego of yours down a peg," you retorted but your words lacked no bite, your stomach doing another embarrassing flip at how the smirk widened across his face.
Damn, if you knew Heeseung's this fine, you would've done something about it a long time ago.
He stepped away from Stella, turning to walk towards you at a slow, languid pace, like he's taking a walk in a park. It took all of you to not moved an inch, planting your feet into the solid ground beneath your feet.
The cowboy stopped, now standing close enough for the tips of your shoes to touch. With the close proximity, you're able to get a whiff of his cologne mixed with his natural scent.
"Oh really? And who would that be?" He cooed, voice dangerously low and smooth like honey, smooth enough to scratch your brain just right.
Your breath stuttered in your throat when his gaze trailed down your face, lingering on your lips before it's back up to your eyes. He's shameless, with how he doesn't looked ashamed at the fact of him being caught red-handed. And gods, his confidence made your cheeks flushed and your heart skipped a beat.
"I don't know. Maybe it's someone who just so happens to be in need of your… expertise," you replied, matching his tone, watching how his eyes widened slightly before they darkened a shade.
His jaw clenched but before he could say anything, you stepped back, looking at him all innocently despite the very obvious tension engulfing the two of you.
"So, are we getting started or what? C'mon cowboy, show me how you ride," you called out to him.
~
One week passed.
One week of Heeseung showing you the ropes behind horse riding. Putting your… desire for him to ravish you to six ways beyond the world, you're surprised with how knowledgeable he is for what seemed to be common sense. Sure, you have the basics locked down but there's more than just practice makes perfect.
"You're doing it again."
You stopped at his words, about to grab the reins but his voice stopped you. The cowboy leaned against the fence behind him, arms crossed with the hem of his hat dipping low enough to hide his eyes from your view. But it did nothing to hide how they kept flicking down to your bare thighs—something you did on purpose.
You worn the skimpiest outfit you can find in your closet—the shortest pair of shorts that barely covered anything along with the thinnest white crop top and a pair of dusty brown boots to complete the look. When Heeseung first saw you, you could see his brain malfunctioned on the spot.
He dragged his eyes down your body, tongue darting out to wet his lips at your clean, smooth and unblemished thighs. Skin that's practically inviting him in with open arms and legs for him to mark them, to leave physical evidence of him behind, imprinted on your body.
Not to mention, he made zero effort to hide the way he's eye-fucking you every time you bent over, giving him a front-view seat of your behind.
The cowboy sighed, already looking exhausted despite the lesson starting less than ten minutes ago. He didn't push off the fence, choosing to remain there so you can learned from your mistakes without needing him to guide you. Not when he had taught you a few times.
"I've told you before, your weight matters. A horse carries everything you do. Every shift and every movement. If you lean too forward, they feel it. Lean too back and they feel it too," he explained, pushing off the fence and approached you, placing his hand on the stallion's nose, earning a snort of satisfaction.
You hummed absentmindedly, idly twirling the reins around your fingers. It's not your fault, with how attractive the cowboy looks with the sunlight kissing his honey-toned face.
"…Are you listening?" He questioned, despite knowing the answer.
You blinked. "Y-Yea, I was."
Heeseung arched an brow, unconvinced. "Alright, then repeat what I just said."
"…The horse has feelings?"
He didn't reply, mostly because he doesn't have the energy anymore. Instead, all you got was a flat and unimpressed stare. You flashed him your most sweetest and brightest smile—a huge contrast to the kind of thoughts running through your mind, hoping it will softened him up.
But he didn't take the bait.
"Move your right leg back. You're gonna get thrown off the horse if you continue sitting like this," he instructed.
You knew you should move, should obey his words since he's the expert here. But you can't helped it, not with how your eyes, mind and attention drifted somewhere else. To the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing more of those choke and drool-worthy skin that you want to feel directly pressed against your body. To the muscles in his forearms, flexing whenever he adjusted the saddle straps or do anything else. And also—
"(Name)."
You blinked, snapping back to reality. "H-Huh?"
He looked at you, that signature unreadable look taking over his handsome and kissable face. "You're staring."
At me.
He doesn't have to say the last two words, not when it's clear as day as to what you were looking at. Heat crept up the back of your neck, flustered with his bluntness.
"..I wasn't! I was thinking!" You blurted out, a poor and feeble attempt to save yourself from your humiliating dilemma.
Heeseung chuckled, the sound low and throaty, enough for heat to pool in your stomach. Fuck, you want to feel the vibrations against your skin. Maybe on your neck or even better, the aching space between your legs. You didn't have to look down to know you're already soaking and leaking.
"Thinking about what? I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with horse riding," he pointed out, all smug and knowing.
And he's not wrong.
His words gave you a surge of courage. You hopped off the horse, not caring how you'll land badly with how careless you were. The cowboy's eyes widened, genuine horror flashed across his face as he steadied you with his large hands on your hips. He parted his lips, ready to say something but you were faster.
You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanked him towards you and crashed your lips against his. The kiss was messy, desperate and hot, fueled by nothing but the mini chasing and waiting game both of you willingly took part in. He was startled at first, with how he didn't react but when it clicked for him, Heeseung returned the kiss with equal neediness.
You let out a pleased sigh against his cupid-bow lips, a sound that he swallowed without hesitation. Heeseung tugged you close until you're pressed chest-to-chest, not leaving any ounce of space between you and him, like he didn't want to be separated from you.
Your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, not caring that the hat he worn fell to the floor or how you're out in the open, with the horse acting as a witness to two humans going at it.
You gave a light, experimental tug on his hair and was rewarded with a low, deep and guttural growl from him. More heat pooled in your stomach just from hearing it.
You attempted to rub your thighs together, desperately craving for some form of friction but Heeseung was faster. He broke the kiss and threw you over his shoulder, like you're nothing but a sack of potatoes.
"Heeseung!"
You squeaked out, mortified and your face turned even redder when he smacked your asscheek. It's not just once but rather, it was twice in a row—one left and one right. You bit down on your lip, swallowing the whimper that nearly slipped from the tip of your tongue, clenching down on nothing as your underwear is directly pressed against your core.
The cowboy turned a deaf ear to you, marching like he has somewhere to be. Looking over your shoulder, you noticed he's bringing you into the stables rather than his own home. The strong stench of hay and horse shit invaded your senses. You didn't have the time to be revolted at it, for your vision was flipped over.
You flailed your arms about like a wild, frantic chicken, only to find yourself straddling Heeseung's lap. The cowboy sat on what seemed to be a few layers of cloths.
His left hand clasped itself around the back of your neck, using it to pull you in so he could kissed you again. You moaned into the kiss, scooting forward, allowing him to touch you everywhere with his free hand.
You gasped as he boldly cupped you through your shorts, moving his hand up and down while swallowing the angelic sounds you made.
"So fucking wet for me. What a dirty, needy girl you are. Coming over and wearing these kinds of clothes. You knew what you were doing, don't you?" He hissed, fingers popping the button open swiftly.
You whimpered, lifting your hips up slightly so he can wrestle it down your legs, leaving you wearing your pathetic, thin and nearly transparent white cotton underwear with a cute pastel pink bow above your pussy. Heeseung pulled back, resting his forehead against yours and he audibly inhaled, unable to tear his eyes away from the large, visible wet patch.
"All this just from kissing? Tell me what you thought about," he murmured, ducking his head to trail hot, searing kisses down the expanse of your neck. It's only right for you to tilt your head back, granting him access as you hooked your arms around his shoulders to support your weight.
"I…hngh…t-thought about your—oh fuck—m-mouth," you stuttered, voice cracking at his kisses growing sharper and meaner, switching to using his teeth to leave marks in his wake.
Heeseung hummed, the vibrations traveling down the length of your body and right down to your pussy, causing more slick to pour out from it. "Yea? Want my mouth on you? Want me to eat you out until you're crying and begging for me to stop? Want me to eat this tight little pussy of yours?"
You outright sobbed at his words, how his voice dropped an octave lower. You grinded your hips against his, seeking for friction but he clicked his tongue, firmly holding you down, forbidding you from moving any further. Heeseung moved away from your neck, his lips swollen and pupils completely blown out, clouded with lust.
He kissed you again, softer and sweeter while he slowly leaned back, bringing you down with him. When he's fully laying on the sheets spread out beneath him, he broke the kiss, chuckling at how you chased after his lips. He patted your right thigh with his hand, shooting you a sly grin when you gave him a confused look.
"Sit on my face, princess. Wanna make you feel good," he said.
Well fuck, if that isn't the hottest thing you've heard in your entire life. As much as you wanted to lower yourself, a small part of you was unsure, thinking you were mishearing things. You looked at him, your hands curled into fists as they rested on your lap.
"..Are you sure?" You asked, your voice small.
Heeseung's features softened, his doe-like eyes never leaving your face, not even for a split second. "Of course I'm sure. I want this and you."
Your heart skipped a beat at his words combined with the pure sincerity in his voice. You scooted upward with him holding you gently but firmly by your waist until your core is hovering directly over his face. You let him tugged your panties to the side. The movement caused long, sticky and glimmering strands of slick to stretch until they snapped into half.
"Fuck, look at this.. So fuckin' pretty and wet. It's all for me, isn't it?" He breathed out, now hooking your arms around your waist, forcing you to lower yourself down onto his awaiting mouth.
The moment you fully sat on his face, you sworn you nearly saw the white pearly gates of heaven.
Heeseung eats you out like a starving, famished man, like he hasn't eaten a proper meal for the past five months. And that wouldn't be far from the truth. He's enthusiastic, messy and sloppy—all of the three things combined into what will probably be the best pussy-eating session you ever had.
Long and broad strokes along your puffy, dripping folds with the tip of his tongue used to collect your essence as he lapped away, like a dog in heat. When he reached your clit, he savored it with quick and pointed flicks, enough to make you bend forward, hands fisting the sheets beneath your palms.
Your thighs quivered at a particular loud and harsh suck with his lips wrapped around the hood of your clit, the suction making your toes curled in your boots.
"O-Oh fuck. So fuckin' good—hah," you moaned out loud, shame be dammed at this point.
He moaned, shaking his head side to side, further smearing your slick across his face, like how one does when they're spreading butter on bread. Loud slurping sounds and moans filled the air in the stables. Both of you didn't care that there were some horses in the same roof as you, both too focused in the current heat of the moment.
You weren't aware you were rocking your hips against his mouth, using the sharp edge of his nose to get yourself off. Heeseung groaned in approval, letting you use him like a tool. He moved his hand down to your ass, alternating between spanking and kneading the meaty flesh, like it's nothing but dough with his warm and calloused hand.
Your breathing grew ragged and unsteady, something tight gradually building in your abdomen, like a piece of rubber-band was stretched beyond its limit. The cowboy knew you're reaching your climax and he buried his face deeper into your pussy, his nose brushing against your clit in just the right angle.
You could barely register the kind of sounds you were making. Sounds that could rival against a professional pornstar. The crop top you worn cling onto your skin, drenched in nothing but your sweat from the humidity of the stable.
"I-I'm gonna cum—fuck, c-close," you babbled.
Your words only made him increased the intensity, with him now paying more attention to your swollen, sensitive clit. The last straw came in the form of him plunging his tongue as deep as possible for you to tip over the edge. Your thighs was clamped tightly around his head, body shaking like a fallen leaf as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.
Heeseung didn't pull away but rather, he continued. He ate you through your orgasm, letting out louder moans and groans, acting like he's the one cumming instead of you. You had to pull at his hair relentlessly, trying to get him away from your sensitive pussy. Only when he pressed a final, light kiss directly on your core was he finally satisfied.
He sat up, only for you to stop him with a hand on his chest. Confused, he lets you pushed him back down until he's half-leaning against the wall behind him.
Confusion was replaced with understanding and desire once he saw how you scooted down, getting to your knees between his legs. You pushed the hem of his shirt up, revealing his honey-toned skin, outlines of his abs along with a dangerous v-line that took your breath away.
"Let me help you out," you murmured, never breaking eye contact as you palmed him through his jeans, feeling him hardened and filling out between your fingers.
Heeseung groaned, watching you with half-lidded eyes. He lets you unbuttoned and pulled the zipper down, the sound seemingly loud in the stable, foreshadowing what's to come. The jeans and Playboy boxers quickly came off as you placed it aside, not wanting it to be dirtied even though he doesn't care about that.
Your breath was punched out of your lungs when his cock sprang free from its restraints. It slapped against his toned stomach, leaving a bead of precum behind.
You planted a kiss on the tip—light and fleeting, savoring the way his breath hitched and how he canted his hips forward, his cock gliding against your left cheek.
You took him into your mouth, lips stretching as wide as possible to accommodate the grith of his cock. To say he's big would be an understatement. You felt a stinging and lingering pain from your jaw muscles, with how you're overexerting yourself to take him fully but you persisted. Your nostrils flared, able to smell his musty scent that makes your head spin and eyes dazing out.
Heeseung threw his head back, baring his Adam's Apple that bobbed up and down as he swallowed. Sweat droplets rolled down his neck. It's obvious he's fighting against his own demons—to fuck your throat like it's nothing but a fleshlight. You inched forward, starting off at a slow, steady rhythm as you bobbed your head back and forth.
You hummed, the added and abrupt vibration drew a choked out, breathless moan from the cowboy. Determined to hear more, you used your hand to touch areas you couldn't reached with your mouth, lightly raking your nails along the edge of his cock.
Heeseung's hips twitched and he accidentally jerked forward, shoving more of his cock down your mouth, eliciting a surprised, muffled sound from you.
"That's it, take it. Take everything," he grunted, hips moving as he thrusted into your mouth, reaching out with one hand to blindly grab a fistful of your hair, using it as reins like you're a horse and he's your rider.
You picked up the pace, hollowing your cheeks for better suction, causing him to arch his back off the sheets as it sticks to his back, already damp with nothing but his sweat.
Your hand reached further down, cupping and fondling with his heavy balls that's practically on the verge of bursting and he cum, spilling down your throat.
You didn't gag, swallowing everything he has to offer, slobbering away at his cock like it's nothing but a piece of chicken drumstick, pushing him through his climax. Heeseung's loud when he cums, moaning and chanting your name like a sacred prayer.
When he fell back to the sheets, all limp and boneless, you took that as your cue to pull away, planting a kiss on his tip, snickering at how it twitched from the contact.
Heeseung's eyes shifted to you, panting and he tugged you over, meeting you in the middle. Both of you moaned at the heavy taste of his cum filling your mouths.
The rest of your clothes were frantically removed, fueled with nothing but the pent-up need to feel your bodies pressed together. He paused, breath taken away from how your breasts jiggled free when he chucked your bra aside.
He leaned forward but you stopped him, fingers clasped around his chin, forcing him to look up at you with wide eyes.
"Next time. Just fuck me before I lose my mind," you confessed, like you're committing a sin.
He made a low, needy sound at the back of his throat, deeply affected by your words and the sheer desperation in your voice. He nodded eagerly, pulling you down to kiss you, wanting to get another taste of you. If he could, he'd prefer to stay like this until the end of the world—you sitting on his lap, the only place you deserved and you let him worshiped you.
You sighed into the kiss, letting your hands feel him up as you touched his bare chest, feeling him shivered under your palms when you brushed your fingers against his nipples. You opened your eyes when something light was placed on top of your head. One glance up was enough to identify the newly added but barely noticeable weight.
"Seriously?" You asked, amused but made no move to remove the accessory.
Heeseung, on the other hand, was starstruck by the sight before him. "Fuck, you look gorgeous. Ride me while you wear it."
You arched an brow. "So bossy, but if you insist."
With his help, you aligned yourselves together. Instead of sinking down immediately, you rocked your hips back and forth, moaning at the delirious sensation of his cockhead rubbing against your fat, dripping pussy lips. Heeseung hissed, nails digging into your hips when you grabbed a hold of his cock before pushing yourself down.
He watched, mesmerized with how his cock disappeared, inch by inch until you bottomed out, your asscheeks hitting his strong, muscular thighs. Your moans echoed among the four walls of the stables, with the horses minding their businesses.
Your mouth dropped open, forming an "O" shape at how you're practically being split apart on his cock.
"Fuck, so tight and warm," the cowboy rasped out, squeezing his eyes shut and teeth sinking into his bottom lip, clearly fighting against his restraint to not buck upwards.
You reached out, placing both hands on his shoulders to raise yourself up until his tip is still nestled between your pussy lips before slamming down. You repeated it, managing to set a doable pace for yourself, ensuring to move your hips in a tight circle motion at every thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin along with the wet, squelching sounds was the only things audible in the stables.
You arched your back, pushing your chest forward, squealing out loud when Heeseung leaned forward to wrap his lips around your right nipple. He switched between licking and nipping at it. You had to hold the hat down from on top when you felt it tipping backward. He used his free hand to pinch your other nipple, wanting to give equal love and attention while you bounced on his lap.
"Just like that, doll. Look at you, you're a natural at riding," he groaned, detaching his lips from your nipple that's covered in a thin layer of saliva.
You watched with half-lidded eyes as the string of saliva snapped into half as he leaned back, wanting to take in the majestic view before him.
A series of whimpers, moans and whines spilled from your lips endlessly, like a broken water tap. You didn't care that you were being extremely loud, not like there's anyone around in the first place. Here, it's just you and Heeseung, along with the horses being the unfortunate victims of watching someone riding the living lights of their precious rider.
Heeseung gripped onto your hips and delivered a sharp, long thrust upward. It's enough to draw a high-pitched cry from you. Your body slumped forward, arms hanging loosely around his shoulders and he took that as his cue to fuck into you from below.
You buried your face in the crook of his neck, tongue licking up the sweat on his honey-toned skin, tasting salt on your tongue. Your nails dug into his back, hard enough to leave marks behind—something he doesn't mind.
You keened, unable to think of anything else other than the intoxicating feeling of his cock sliding in and out of your wet, gaping pussy and how he's able to hit places that you thought it was impossible to.
"H-Hee.. hngh, g-gonna cum—"
You slurred, tears prickling your eyes with your vision blurring slightly. At your words, Heeseung threw your right leg over his shoulder. You were still seated on his cock but the slight change of angle allowed him to slide deeper, if that was still possible.
"Cum for me, baby," he demanded, hand snaking down to rub your clit furiously.
You had to support your weight with your hands braced against the sheets beneath you. You whimpered at the sudden, painful stimulation. Your body quivered nonstop as pleasure crashed over you without warning, your walls convulsing around his cock violently. Heeseung showed no signs of stopping as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm.
"S-Stop! Too much," you wailed, milking his cock dry until a creamy white ring was formed around the base of his cock.
"Yes, you can. Do it for me," he panted, his movements growing sloppy.
With one final long thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and filled your pussy with thick and hot cum, painting your walls in the shade of milky white.
You moaned at the feeling of being filled up, feeling unusually full as he pumped you full of his cum. Your thighs trembled when you felt something warm and sticky slowly rolling down your thighs but made no move to wipe it off, too exhausted to lift a single finger.
You slumped against Heeseung, chin on his left shoulder. Both of you didn't say a word, catching your breath first. You felt him softening inside you but he didn't pull out.
"Heeseung, you—!?"
You didn't finish your sentence, not when he snapped his hips upward again. You sobbed, your pussy too sensitive for anything else now. You leaned back, wanting to tell him off or to stop him, only for your voice to die down in your throat.
Even when he looks wrecked, he still looks annoyingly handsome, much to your mild annoyance. Whatever thoughts or words you had in mind was washed down the drain when he snapped his hips forward, his cock kissing that one spongy spot hidden in your pussy, making your eyes rolled to the back of your head.
Heeseung chuckled, leaning over to whisper into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your skin. "I think we need a few more lessons. Gonna teach you how to ride until you're a pro."
