RED HAIRED GUY!
✰stranger!redseung x fem!reader
-> you go out with your friends to clear your head after an intense argument with your ex boyfriend and end up getting distracted by a stranger who seems entirely too comfortable looking at you for that long.
warnings-> nsfw, MDNI, smut, non-idol au, one night stand, strong language, oral sex, unprotected sex (DON'T especially in this context! DO NOT! please stay safe), overstimulation, creampie, dom!heeseung, sub!reader, revenge sex, porn with plot, multiple positions, dirty talk, pet names (use of the words "good girl", kissing, grinding, heavy praise, riding, voyeurism, answering the phone during sex, no strings attached (could be more) -> (w/c:6.5k)
The bass hits you before you even get through the door. It reverberates up through the floor, through the soles of your shoes, through your chest, loud and relentless and exactly what you need tonight.
Your friend Yuna squeezes your hand as you push through the crowd, the heat of too many bodies and too many drinks wrapping around you immediately, and you let yourself exhale for the first time in hours. Your ex boyfriend's face flickers into your head completely uninvited but you shove it back out.
Not tonight, you think, not today. He's not going to ruin your fun too. Yuna grabs your hand and drags you along, following your friends down onto the dance floor. Where you stay for a long time. And God, it feels good.
The kind of good that starts in your chest and moves outward, through your shoulders, down your arms, into the way your hips find the beat like they've been waiting for this all week. Your friends are beside you, laughing, and the music is loud enough to drown out everything that isn't this exact moment.
You feel beautiful tonight. Your hair is right. Your outfit is right. You don't even regret the bold choice of red lipstick you have on. The way you move feels effortless in the way it only does when you've stopped thinking about moving and just let your body flow to the beat.
Someone across the floor is watching you but you barely notice. You throw your head back and laugh at something your friend shouts in your ear and let the bass do the rest. This is what you came for. This exact feeling…alive and unbothered and completely, entirely yours.
You feel it again somewhere in the middle of a song. A gaze. Steady and unhurried, coming from the direction of the bar, not the usual kind that skims past and moves on. This one stays. Specific enough that it prickles at the back of your neck, makes you want to glance over your shoulder even though you resist it.
You don't look. Not yet. You let the song finish, let your friend spin you around, let another beat drop. Then casually, like it's nothing, you look.
He's at the bar. Leaning against it with the particular ease of someone who has never once been uncomfortable in a room in his life, one hand wrapped loosely around a glass, dark jacket, red hair catching the light above the bar in a way that looks almost deliberate. His eyes are already on you when you find them. He doesn't look away.
Not embarrassed, not caught. Just watching. Like he'd decided to and saw no reason to pretend otherwise. You hold his gaze for exactly two seconds. Then you turn back to the dance floor and say nothing to anyone, but something about the atmosphere feels different now. The awareness of it sitting warm at the back of your neck for the rest of the song.
You come off the dance floor flushed and breathless, your friends already splintering off in different directions, toward the bathrooms, toward a group they'd spotted across the room, toward the small outdoor terrace at the back. Yuna promises to find you in ten minutes and you wave her off and push toward the bar because you're thirsty, the night is young and you feel fucking great.
The bar is crowded but you find a gap and lean into it, scanning for the bartender. "Decided to come say hi after all," the voice says from your left. Low, cutting through the noise with an ease that suggests it's done this before.
You turn, already knowing exactly who you’ll find. He’s still there, leaning against the bar with that same effortless ease, glass in hand. Up close, the red hair is even more striking, and his dark eyes are sharper, intense and direct. He looks at you like he has all the time in the world and has decided, for now, to spend some of it right here.
You already knew who he was. Lee Heeseung. Your girlfriends had warned you about him more times than you could count.
Burning red hair, charming, dangerously good-looking, and a notorious heartbreaker. But nothing they said had prepared you for the real thing. He’s far better looking than you’d expected, the kind of attractive that makes your brain short-circuit. You find yourself staring longer than you should before you snap out of it, quickly clearing your throat as heat rushes up your neck.
"I was thirsty," you say, turning away quickly to flag down the bartender. "Mm." He takes a sip of his drink. "You dance like you know everyone's watching" You glance at him. "Do I?" he gives a curt nod, "Not a criticism," his eyes are steady on yours, dark and entirely unbothered. "Just an observation."
"You were watching me?"
"Hard not to" he says it plainly, like a simple fact. You watch him, ignoring the heat burning up your face, completely caught off guard by his admission.
When the bartender appears, you quickly clear your throat and place your order. He doesn't look away, keeping his steady gaze on you. "I'm Heeseung," he nods. You glance back at him again, placing your purse down beside you.
"Y/N" you say, “and I know who you are, I think” Something shifts in his expression immediately, the faintest flicker of interest, like you've said something unexpected. "Do you?"
"You have a reputation"
"Most people do." He tilts his head slightly. "What's mine?"
You consider him for a second, the easy sprawl of him against the bar, the way he holds eye contact like it costs him nothing, the red hair, the dark eyes, the jacket, the irritatingly calm expression and the fact that standing this close apparently means becoming aware that he smells really good. Basically the overall unfair construction of him as a person. "The kind people warn you about"
His eyebrows lift slightly. "That bad?"
You shrug, "Depends on who you ask.” He smiles at that, slow, unhurried, like everything else about him. Your drink arrives shortly after and you wrap your hand around it, taking a sip as you try to decide whether you're annoyed or entertained, which is a harder question than it should be. "You come here a lot?" you ask. "Not really, sometimes" He shrugs slightly. "You?"
"Not usually." You look out at the dance floor, at the mass of moving bodies and colored lights. "I needed a night out."
"Bad day?" he raises brow.
"Bad week," you scoff. Then, because something about him invites honesty in a way you hadn't anticipated, you continue, "bad enough."
He doesn't push. Doesn't do the thing people do where they tilt their head and say do you want to talk about it? In a voice that suggests they're already composing their response. He just nods, once, and lets it sit there. You appreciate that.
"For what it's worth," he says, after a moment, "You look beautiful."
You glance at him. The compliment lands strangely, too factual, and you really can't help the rush of heat creeping up your neck. "Thank you" His eyes flick to you for half a second longer than necessary and you look away first, noticing the slight lift at the corner of his mouth. "You're welcome.”
His smile doesn't disappear, making you narrow your eyes a little. "Don't look so pleased with yourself."
His eyebrows lift. "I'm not.”
You shake your head and glance away again, suddenly very interested in absolutely anything else in the room. When he speaks again, his voice comes out softer this time, a teasing edge to it, "You get shy when people compliment you?" Your eyes snap back to him "No."
He nods once. "Right"
"I don't."
His mouth twitches, “then why won't you look at me?" Your lips part but nothing comes out. His expression changes, not smug exactly, more entertained than anything. A beat passes and he doesn’t move away, you don’t either. “You’re staring,” you manage, a very familiar sensation creeping up your body. “Yeah,” he simply agrees. “I am.”
He's crazy, you think. You look at him for a second, the way he occupies space like it's never occurred to him to make himself smaller, the faint smile that suggests he finds most things mildly interesting and very little genuinely surprising. "You always like this?" you ask.
"Like what?" he laughs, "Like-" you gesture at him vaguely, "this."
"You're going to have to be more specific, sweetheart."
"Well...unbothered," you say, trying to ignore the nickname. "About everything. Like nothing ever lands."
He considers this, which you think is pretty cool, he doesn't just deflect or turn it into something smooth. He actually thinks about it. "Things land," he says finally. "I just don't make it everyone's problem."
There's something underneath that which you don't quite have the context to unpack, but it sits in the air between you and feels true in a way that catches you slightly off guard.
Your phone suddenly buzzes in your purse. But you ignore it. He notices, you can tell by the way his eyes drop for a fraction of a second but he doesn't say anything. "So," he glances at you, "what else does a person do after a bad night?"
"They go clubbing," you say, "and let a strange man talk to them apparently."
"I'm not that strange," he's watching you now with an amused smile on his face, "the night is young," you shrug. He laughs at that, a low, genuine sound, nothing performed about it and it does something slightly unreasonable to the atmosphere between you.
Your phone buzzes again. And again. You reach into your purse, glancing at the screen out of reflex.
BF♡: where are you? BF♡: send me your location BF♡: y/n
You stare at it for a second, annoyed that you forgot to change his contact name, then you sigh, disliking the heavy feeling settling in your chest. Not quite anger, not even hurt, just the familiar exhausting weight of him wanting your attention on his terms and his timeline, the same way he always did.
And so you turn your screen face down on the bar. Heeseung is watching you when you look up. His expression hasn't changed, still easy, still steady but there's something attentive in his eyes that suggests he's caught onto more than you intended. "You were saying?" You say, like nothing happened. He holds your gaze for a moment. Then he lets it go, smooth as anything. "I was asking what you do after a bad night," he says, "strange men at bars, bold strategy." Heeseung nods his approval.
"It's working so far,” you nod. "Is it?" He answers, not a question exactly, more like he's tasting the answer. “You're not all that bad I guess” you shrug "High praise." He looks at you over the rim of his glass which makes you roll your eyes, "Don't push it."
Heeseung smiles warmly and leans in just slightly, not enough to crowd you, but just enough to close some of the distance between you, deliberate in the way everything he does seems deliberate. "Despite having an awful night," he says, low enough that it doesn't carry past the two of you, "you're doing pretty well."
"I had a good teacher," you say. "First five minutes." Something genuinely pleased moves through his expression. He leans back, like he's satisfied with that. And then your phone goes off again but you don't look at it this time. Heeseung watches you ignore it. "Persistent," he observes. "Very," you agree.
"Must be important."
"Must be." You pick up your drink, "Doesn't feel like it right now."
His eyes stay on yours for a beat longer than necessary, reading something there, whatever you're letting show, and then the corner of his mouth curves up slowly. The air between you is doing something you don't really have a name for. Close and charged but subtle all at once, like neither of you is in a particular rush to get anywhere and you've both quietly agreed on this without saying so.
He shifts slightly, angling toward you, his arm brushing yours against the bar. But he doesn't move it away. "So," his eyes drop to your lips for just a fraction of a second before coming back up. "Tell me something."
"Like what?"
"Anything." He tilts his head. "Something true."
You look at him, the red hair and the dark eyes and the complete infuriating composure of him and feel something loosen in your chest that had been pulled tight all evening. "I almost didn't come out tonight," you say. "But you did."
"I did."
He holds your gaze. "I'm glad you did."
You open your mouth to say something, but Yuna's voice cuts through the music. "Y/N!" Your friend materializes at your elbow from somewhere in the crowd, slightly breathless, eyes bright. "There you are, come on!, they're playing our song, we have to go!" She grabs your arm before you have time to process, already pulling you towards the dance floor.
You go, because you're being moved by a force of nature and there's very little to be done about it, but you turn your head as you're dragged away. Heeseung watches you go with that same calm expression and he raises his glass slightly in your direction, holding your gaze for one second, two, then you're completely enveloped by the crowd and the music swells back around you.
Yuna is saying something you're not fully processing because you're still thinking about the way he'd looked at you right before your name was called. ‘I'm glad you did’
Your phone buzzes again in your hand but your mind is already elsewhere. Yuna hands you a drink and you down it in one go. And just like that you let the music do what it does and your body go with the flow. The song changes twice more before Yuna finally lets you go, laughing, already being pulled toward the group by the terrace doors. "Ten minutes, I mean it this time!" she calls over her shoulder, blowing you a kiss. Even though you know you're probably not going to see her again for the rest of the night. And then she's gone, swallowed by the crowd same as everything else tonight.
You mean to go find the terrace. You mean to. But instead you find yourself drifting back toward the bar, telling yourself it's because you never finished your drink, which is a lie you don't even bother committing to.
He's not where you left him and the disappointment lands before you can stop it, sharp and unreasonable, and you're still cataloguing it when a hand finds the small of your back. "Looking for someone?" His voice, close to your ear this time, close enough that you feel it more than hear it over the music.
Your breath catches and you turn around slowly, the moment your eyes meet his again, up close like this, something in your brain short-circuits. God, he’s unfairly beautiful.
His red hair looks even richer under the now pink club lights, a deep, vivid shade almost burgundy, that catches every flash of color. His dark eyes hold yours without hesitation, framed by lashes that should be illegal, and there’s the faintest trace of a smirk playing at the corner of his heart-shaped lips.
Your eyes fall to the sharp line of his jaw, the easy slope of his shoulders under that jacket. And you’re suddenly very aware of how warm the room feels, how close he is and how your pulse is now louder than the music. Heeseung’s hand lingers for a second longer before he lets it fall, but he doesn’t step back. He just watches you, that calm confidence radiating off him in waves.
“Yeah,” you manage, voice a little breathless. “Guess I found him.” His smirk deepens, slow and pleased, he leans one elbow back against the bar, angling his body toward you so the two of you create a little pocket of space amid the chaos. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?” You finally realize what you said and laugh softly, the sound surprising even you. “Don’t flatter yourself too much. I was just um…thirsty again.”
“Right” His gaze drops to your mouth for a beat, then lifts back up. “And here I thought you missed my charming conversation.” The way he says it, so relaxed, so teasing, makes heat bloom low in your stomach and you take a small step closer without meaning to, drawn in by the way he looks at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room.
He doesn’t push, doesn’t crowd you but every little movement feels so intimate. The brush of his arm against yours. The way his fingers tap lightly against his glass. The quiet intensity behind that laid back smile. You talk for a few more minutes, easy, light banter that somehow feels heavier than it should.
He asks what kind of bad week you had, not prying, just offering the space for you to answer if you want. But you deflect with something vague and sarcastic that makes him chuckle, low and amused. His voice is like warm velvet over gravel, and every time he calls you “sweetheart” in that casual drawl, your stomach flips.
You shift uncomfortably in your seat, thighs pressing together as a very specific, dangerously heated thought slips into your mind. The room suddenly feels unbearably hot, the air thick and suffocating, wrapping around you until you can no longer think clearly.
Oh God… you’re in so much trouble.
The music throbs through the space between you, colored lights dancing across his sharp features. Your heart hammers wildly against your ribs, impossible to calm. While he’s still talking about his week, the words tumble from your lips before you can catch them.
“Can I kiss you?”
The question lingers in the charged air, honest and daring. His gaze has been devouring you all night, dark, unrelenting and you can no longer ignore the heat blooming between your thighs. Heeseung blinks once, caught off guard, those perfectly arched brows lifting in quiet surprise. For the first time tonight, his flawless composure fractures beautifully.
A slow, dangerous smile curves his lips. His eyes darken with intrigue and something far hungrier. “Yeah,” he murmurs, voice dropping into that low, velvet tone that sends shivers racing down your spine. “You can.”
You don’t wait for the moment to pass. You reach up, fingers brushing the front of his jacket, and press your mouth to his. One of his hands slides to your waist to pull you closer while the other cups the side of your face with surprising gentleness. His lips are warm, soft at first and then firmer, deepening the kiss like he’s been thinking about it since the moment he saw you on the dance floor.
The taste of his drink lingers faintly, mixed with something distinctly him. He kisses like he does everything else, completely in control, but generous with it, coaxing your lips apart and making your knees feel weak. It’s easily the best kiss you’ve ever had. Slow and consuming and perfect, the kind that makes the rest of the club disappear.
Heat floods through you, head to toe, as his thumb brushes your cheek and he tilts his head just enough to take it deeper. Tongue stroking yours in lazy, hungry strokes that send liquid heat pooling between your thighs. A soft, needy whimper escapes you and you feel him smile against your mouth. When you finally pull back, gasping for air, your forehead rests against his. Your bold red lipstick, smeared at the corner of his mouth, staining the edge of his lips in a messy, erotic streak.
His eyes are dazed, pupils blown wide with lust, that usual collected composure cracked just enough to show how badly he wants you. His breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling against yours. “Fuck,” he whispers, voice rough as his thumb drags gently over your swollen bottom lip, smearing your red lipstick even more. You stare at him, eyes glazed with lust. Heeseung lets out a low breath, almost reluctant. “Y/N… look, I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t really do relationships.”
The words hang between you for half a second. You think about it for a second and then decide that you don’t care, you just need a release. You grab his arm and pull him toward a shadowed corner of the club. He follows without hesitation, that lazy grin returning to his lips as the blue lights wash over you both and the pounding music fades into a distant throb.
Heeseung presses you against the wall, his body flush against yours. His heavy breathing fans hot across your neck as he slots one thigh between your legs. “Go on,” he whispers, voice low and commanding, lips brushing your ear. “Use me.”
You can’t help the desperate moan that spills from your lips as you grind against his thigh, the friction delicious against your soaked core. He watches you the entire time, dark eyes fixed on your face, drinking in every roll of your hips, every gasp. His hands grip your waist, steadying you as the pleasure builds fast and sharp. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praises softly, lips brushing your ear. “Look at you…you look so pretty riding my thigh like this.”
The orgasm hits you like a wave, shattering through your body so intensely your legs give out. Heeseung catches you easily, holding you up with strong arms as he kisses you through it, swallowing every loud moan and whimper until you’re trembling and spent against his chest. He lets you catch your breath for a moment, forehead pressed to his, before intertwining your fingers with his.
“Come with me,” he says, low enough that it vibrates through your chest. You don’t hesitate. He guides you through the crowd, grip warm and sure. Your legs are still shaky from the intense release, and halfway up the narrow staircase he notices. With a soft chuckle, Heeseung turns the corner and the bouncer gives him a knowing nod as you pass and you don't care to think about anything else because you need his lips on you again.
The second floor is quieter, dim lights, velvet booths, and several closed doors lining a hallway. Heeseung opens one without pause, pulling you inside. The room is private, luxurious in a hazy club way. Low lighting, a large bed against one wall, a mirror across from it, and a leather couch by the window through which the moonlight shines in.
The faint thump of music still vibrates through the floor and there's a sweet scent in the air. Heeseung turns to you, gently backing you against the door. His hands settle on your hips as he leans in, kissing you again, deeper this time. Slower, like he’s savoring every second. You melt into it, fingers threading through his hair and tugging lightly. He lets out a low sound of approval against your mouth. “You sure about this?” he asks, lips brushing yours.
Even now, he’s giving you the choice, calm and gentle. But his body is pressed close enough that you can feel exactly how much he wants you. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you to fuck me. Please.”
That’s all he needs.
His hands slide under your dress, peeling it off with practiced ease. Clothes come off in a heated rush, his jacket hitting the floor, the skirt of your dress pushes up around your waist, the straps undone to reveal your aching breasts. His shirt unbuttoned just enough for you to run your hands over the hard lines of his chest. His hands roam possessively, sliding under your clothes until you’re both shedding them in a heated trail toward the bed.
He lays you down and drops to his knees between your spreaded thighs, that same soft dominance radiating off him as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. “Still so wet,” he murmurs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. “Let’s see how many more times I can make you fall apart tonight.”
His mouth is on you in the next breath, tongue sliding through your folds, sucking gently on your clit while two fingers push inside you. He eats you out like he has all the time in the world, every teasing lick and curl of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
“You taste so fucking good,” he groans against you. “I knew I had to taste you the second I saw you on that dance floor.” His admission pulls a tortured moan from you.
You’re loud, crying shamelessly as another orgasm builds fast. He groans at the sound of your pleasure, his nose brushes your clit, the vibration sending sparks through your core. Your hips buck against his mouth, a loud cry tearing from your throat when his tongue slips inside you. Heeseung quickly presses his hand firmly over your mouth, muffling your sounds while he works you through it with long, lazy strokes of his wet tongue.
“Easy, baby,” he kisses against your slick skin, eyes flicking up to yours with dark amusement. “Can’t have everyone hearing how you cum on my tongue. Be quiet for me… or I’ll make you.” He spits on your pussy, dragging his tongue across your mess.
His words, combined with the relentless curl of his fingers and the skilled movements of his tongue, push you over the edge fast. You come hard, thighs shaking around his head, your cries muffled against his palm as pleasure whites out your vision. He doesn’t give you much time to recover.
Heeseung stands, shedding the rest of his clothes, his dick hard and flushed. You slide off the bed onto your knees almost instinctively, wrapping your hand around him. He threads his fingers gently through your hair, guiding but not forcing. “That’s it… fuck, you look so pretty on your knees for me,” he breathes, voice rough with pleasure. “Open up for me, baby. Let me feel that pretty mouth.”
You take him eagerly, licking a wet stripe around the head before sinking down as far as you can. Tongue swirling and hand stroking what you can't fit. His praises make you wetter, make you moan around him as you grind your clit against his leg like an animal in heat. He tightens his grip in your hair, his head falling back with a low groan.
"You're such a good girl… just like that. Taking me so fucking well.” You moan around him, the vibration drawing another curse from his lips. He fucks your mouth with slow, controlled thrusts, never too rough, eyes locked on the way your smeared red lipstick leaves marks along his shaft. Before he can finish down your throat, he pulls you off and lays you back onto the bed.
Your chest rises and falls in anticipation as you hear the hurried rip of foil. He lines up, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit until you’re panting helplessly.
You look him in the eye, tugging at the condom until he understands what you’re suggesting. “I have an IUD…” you whisper, gazing up at him through your lashes. “Besides, I want to feel you...all of you.”
Heeseung stares down at you, that unhinged look in his eyes as his chest rises heavily. “You’re fucking crazy,” he rasps, already tearing it off before crashing his lips against yours, suddenly unable to hold back the raw hunger he has for you.
He takes his time, but there’s nothing lazy about the way he explores your body. Confident hands roaming, lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and collarbone, lower and lower until you’re arching desperately into him, gasping his name like a prayer.
When he finally sinks into you, slow, deep and perfect, the stretch is exquisite. “F-fuck, you’re so deep,” you moan, overwhelmed by the feeling of him filling you completely. He watches your face the entire time, eyes locked on yours, drinking in every flicker of pleasure like it’s better than the love song still pulsing downstairs.
“Fuck, you feel incredible baby,” he groans, voice rough around the edges. His hips roll against yours in a steady, devastating rhythm, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust until your toes are curling and you're drooling onto the pillows.
It’s overwhelming in the best way. He moves like he already knows your body inside out, like he’s determined to make you feel everything. Confident, unrelenting, and attuned to every moan and shiver. He angles his hips just right, grinding against your clit with each deep thrust until pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core.
You come hard again, crying out against his shoulder, nails digging into his back as you bite down to muffle your scream. He doesn’t stop. He rides you through it, murmuring filthy praises against your ear. “So tight… fuck, that’s it. Let go for me again, you're so sexy like this”
"H-heeseung!" You’re moans grow louder, whimpering and crying out his name with every thrust that hits that sweet spot deep inside you. Heeseung smirks, pressing his hand over your mouth once more as he leans down to bite at your neck. He fucks you harder, voice dark and teasing. “Quiet down, baby. Do you want the whole club to know how hard I’m making you come?”
Your phone suddenly lights up on the bedside table, the familiar ringtone cutting sharply through the heavy breathing and obscene wet sounds of skin slapping against skin.
Incoming call… BF♡
Heeseung glances at the screen, then back down at you with a wicked, filthy glint in his eyes. He doesn’t stop. Instead, he slows into deep, grinding rolls that make your toes curl and your walls clench greedily around his dick.
“Answer it,” he commands softly, voice dripping with lust as he picks up the pace again, fucking you harder. “Answer the phone, baby. Let him hear how well you’re getting fucked.”
His voice is full of dark challenge and amusement. He moves his hand from your mouth just enough for you to speak. You shake your head desperately, but he leans down, lips brushing your ear as he thrusts particularly deep, his tongue traces your earlobe and his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit.
A sudden, violent orgasm crashes into you without warning. Your legs shake uncontrollably, vision blurring as intense pleasure rips through your body. A broken moan tears from your throat before you can stop it, your release gushes around his thick, pulsing cock, clenching down on him hard.
“Fuck…fucking hell, you cum so good,” he groans, sweat dripping down his chest. His eyes drop to where his thick dick is pumping in and out of you, slick and glistening with your release. “Look at that. Soaking me like a good girl.” he watches you, almost mesmerized.
You gasp sharply, eyes rolling back as he keeps thrusting through your orgasm, brushing against your sensitive spot with every stroke.
The phone keeps ringing, insistent and shrill. Heeseung’s hand returns to cover your mouth, muffling your cries as he fucks you through the waves of pleasure. With his other hand, he grabs the phone and presses it into your palm, his hair falls over his eyes, his sharp gaze locked on yours in a silent, filthy command.
Fingers trembling, you swipe to answer just as another deep thrust makes your voice crack. “H-hello…?” It comes out wrecked, breathy, and soaked in lust.
Your ex’s voice explodes through the speaker. Angry and demanding to know where you are and why you sound like that. But Heeseung doesn’t let up. He leans down, kissing and biting along your neck as he drives into you with sharp, punishing strokes. His hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head spin while you try to hold back your moans between broken replies.
You try to speak, but every thrust pulls another muffled whimper from you. Heeseung’s breath is hot against your ear as he whispers, low and teasing, “Tell him you’re busy, baby… go on, tell him how full you are right now. How deep I’m buried inside this pretty pussy.” he licks a wet stripe down your neck.
The risk, the overwhelming pleasure, and his relentless filthy praise push you dangerously close to the edge again. You manage a few shaky, incoherent words “L-Look, stop calling me… d-don’t call me anymore. We’re done” before you drop the phone onto the sheets and another orgasm rips through you without mercy. “O-oh God! Fuck!” you scream.
Heeseung swallows your loud cry with a deep, possessive kiss, his hips stuttering as you clench down hard around him. Then he flips you over, yanking your hips up and taking you from behind with the same devastating control.
The new angle is even deeper. He fucks you hard and fast, one hand fisted in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks. The headboard slams rhythmically against the wall with every powerful thrust. His balls slap loudly against your ass, slick with your juices, as your moans grow shamelessly louder, echoing through the room.
“Listen to you,” he growls, voice rough with lust. “So fucking loud for me. You love getting ruined like this, don’t you?” He leans over your back, teeth grazing your shoulder as he drives into you even harder. “One more, pretty. Let me feel you.”
The filthy sounds of skin slapping skin send you spiraling. Your most intense orgasm of the night crashes over you, legs shaking violently as your walls pulse and flutter around him. You cry out into the sheets, clenching down so hard it pulls Heeseung over the edge with you.
He buries himself to the hilt with a deep, guttural groan, hips jerking against your ass as he fills you completely.
For a few long moments, the only sounds are your ragged breathing and the distant thump of the club music. Heeseung stays draped over you, pressing soft kisses along your spine before slowly pulling out. He collapses beside you and pulls you into his chest, arms wrapping around your trembling body.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, voice warm and slightly amused. His fingers trace lazy circles on your back, gentle now after the intensity. “Did I break you, pretty girl?”
You let out a weak, breathless laugh, burying your face in his neck. The red lipstick you left all over him is still faintly visible in the low light. “In the best way possible."
Heeseung chuckles softly, tilting your chin up to kiss you, his touch soft and tender. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.” His hand slides down to squeeze your ass possessively. “Give me ten minutes. I want to watch you lose it while you’re on top of me, still dripping with my cum.” He looks down at you with a smirk. “Unless you need me to call your boyfriend back and really rub it in.”
You playfully smack his chest, a breathless laugh escaping. “You’re terrible.”
He catches your wrist easily, bringing it to his lips to kiss your pulse point. “You like it,” he teases. And true to his word, it doesn’t take him long to recover. Heeseung leans back against the bed, pulling you on top of him with effortless strength. His hands settle on your hips as you straddle him, guiding you down onto his cock again. The stretch is delicious, especially with the added slickness of his release still leaking out of you.
Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, head falling back as you sink all the way down. “You take me so well.”
You start moving, rolling your hips experimentally at first, then faster as confidence and need take over. Heeseung watches you with hooded eyes, hands roaming your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples, then gripping your waist to help guide your movements.
“That’s my pretty girl,” he praises, voice rough. “Ride me just like that. You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re cumming all over my dick.”
The angle lets you grind your clit against him with every roll of your hips. Your moans grow louder, shameless. “H-heeseung! ahh, feels s-so good,” you whimper, riding him harder. He sits up slightly, pulling you closer so he can kiss you messily. One hand stays on your hip while the other slides between your bodies, rubbing on your clit.
“Come on, baby,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let me feel you cum again. Be a good girl and spill for me” The combination of his filthy praise, his lips on your neck, and the deep drag of his cock inside you sends you spiraling fast. “Oh my fucking God...Heeseung! I’m fuck-!” the last of your words evolve into a scream and you cry out, body trembling as another powerful orgasm crashes through you.
Heeseung groans loudly, thrusting up into you to chase his own release, filling you once more as he holds you tight against him.
You collapse onto his chest, both of you slick with sweat and breathing hard. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder as the aftershocks fade. “Still having an awful week?” he asks, voice low and satisfied. You smile against his skin, too blissed out to do anything else. “Best week ever.”
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Stay with me a little longer, yeah? The night’s still young… and I’m nowhere near done with you.”
You decide to stay. You stay for hours.
He takes you again and again. Slow and deep on the bed, then against the wall, on the floor with you on your hands and knees as he ruts into you until you fall apart. He has you on your back at the edge of the bed, standing tall as he holds your legs over his shoulders, buried so fucking deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You ride his face, breathless and teary-eyed, his nose brushing your clit with every movement as you leak into his mouth before he pulls you over him so you can ride his dick until your thighs burn and your voice turns hoarse.
Every praise, every filthy whisper, and every gentle command sinks deeper into your memory.
Eventually, the sun begins to rise, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold as the club finally empties out. Heeseung pulls you close at the back exit, one last time. His hand cups the side of your face with surprising tenderness, thumb slowly brushing across your smudged red lipstick like he’s memorizing the evidence of the night you shared.
He kisses you deeply, slow and lingering. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours for a moment, breaths mingling in the cool morning air.
“Last night was fun,” he murmurs, that mesmerising smile curving his lips once more, but there’s something softer in his eyes now.
"Take care of yourself, beautiful” He starts to pull away, but not before pressing one final, gentle kiss to your forehead.
A sudden spike of panic hits you. Your fingers tighten in his jacket before you can stop yourself. “Wait…” Your voice comes out smaller than you want. “Will I… see you again?”
Heeseung pauses. For a moment, his eyes soften, just slightly, as he studies your face. Then that calm expression returns. He leans in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your wrist.
“Maybe,” he says softly, voice low and honest. “But even if not…you’ll remember me.” He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, one final time, that beautiful smile making your heart ache a little. “And I'll definitely remember you.”
With that, he steps back, gives you one last look that sends heat rushing through your body, and disappears into the early morning streets.
In the weeks that follow, you think about Heeseung far too often. You try to move on, you go on dates, you let other men kiss you, touch you, take you home. But it’s never the same.
No one else makes your body respond like that. No one else fills you with that overwhelming, toe-curling pleasure. No one else looks at you with those sharp, steady eyes while calling you their good girl in that low, velvet voice. Sex with anyone else feels… mediocre, mechanical and disappointing.
Your mind always returns to the red-haired guy.
Late at night, when the ache becomes unbearable, your hand slips between your thighs. You close your eyes and picture him. His vivid red hair between your legs, his strong hands gripping your hips, the filthy praise he groaned against your neck as he fucked you senseless. You remember how he stretched you open, how he kissed you through your orgasms, how he made you cum harder than you ever had before.
You touch yourself desperately to those memories, moaning his name into your pillow as you shatter again and again. The orgasms are good… but they’re never quite enough. Just echoes of what he gave you that night.
He ruined you for anyone else.
And the worst part? You don’t even regret it.
Sometimes, when you’re out at clubs or parties, you catch yourself scanning the crowd for a flash of red hair and that effortless wolfish grin… but he never appears again.
He was a one-night storm…beautiful, devastating and unforgettable. And all you have left is the memory and the quiet, delicious ache every time you think of him.
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