pairing: stranger!nishimura riki x fem!reader
synopsis: you meet him on a quiet night — a stranger with sharp eyes and a colder edge, nothing like anyone in your sleepy suburb. he won’t talk, barely looks at you, but something about him lingers. maybe you’re just curious. or maybe you’ve seen him before.
featuring: ni-ki & jake of enhypen
genre: childhood friends to lovers, a sprinkle of angst, smut, skinship, kissing, etc.
warnings: smut (18+), difficult relationships with parents, love at first sight lowk, vulnerability, themes of implied watching (not rlly stalking) but it isn't graphic, riki smokes cigs, uhhh i think that's it?? lowercase intended heh
playlist: anxiety by doechii, clarity by zedd & sacrifice by enhypen
(smut warnings under cut)
wc: 9.120k
a/n: this is way longer than i expected but it came to me in a dream... enjoy! also i'm gonna start a perm taglist! comment on any of my fics or send an ask to be added! <3
smut content: riki's PACKING, they cum in their pants lol, dry humping, deepthroating kinda, backshots LMAO, missionary, dom!riki x sub!reader, degradation & praise kinks, creampie, like SO MUCH cum... n e ways! fluffy aftercare, unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap), tit fucking, oral (m. receiving), choking, everything is consensual, riki and reader are both so down bad for each other... lmk if i missed anything :3
(not proofread)
-ˏˋ⋆ 7 months ago ⋆ˊˎ-
it was raining the day you first felt it — that creeping sensation at the back of your neck, like invisible fingers brushing against your skin.
not a storm, not anything dramatic. just that kind of soft, cold drizzle that seeped into your clothes and made the world feel like it was holding its breath. gray sky melted into gray pavement, the horizon smeared like a half-finished painting. you were standing under the chipped awning of the old bakery on the corner, the scent of yeast and sugar mixing with the rain, waiting for your usual thursday pastry that was always slightly overbaked but comfortingly warm.
you remember scrolling through your phone, aimlessly, as your friend, jake, rambled beside you about something he saw on tv. you weren't listening. you were too aware of the feeling — that hum beneath your skin. subtle but unshakable.
“there’s someone watching me,” you’d said earlier that morning, trying to brush it off with a laugh as you stirred milk into your coffee. “it’s my anxiety.” jake didn’t look up from his phone. “or maybe you’re watching yourself spiral.”
you’d rolled your eyes. maybe he was right. midterms were looming, you hadn’t slept in days, and your brain felt like it was being slowly pulled apart by rubber bands. but still. the feeling didn’t go away.
it got worse.
you’d been fidgeting, switching the weight on your feet, chewing the inside of your cheek. and then, like something calling your name without a sound, your eyes had drifted across the street.
that’s when you saw him.
a boy. or maybe a man — it was hard to tell, the rain blurred everything. tall, impossibly still, wearing a black hoodie that clung to his shoulders. he wasn’t under any kind of shelter. he stood alone, soaked to the bone, his face half-hidden by the hood, his gaze fixed. not on the road. not on the buildings. but on you.
you stared. you didn’t recognize him. not really. and yet something deep in your chest stirred like a memory. like a name you almost remembered. like a dream you’d had once and forgotten by morning.
you glanced down for a second — a message lighting up your screen.
when you looked up, he was gone.
no footsteps. no splash. just… gone.
you never told jake. what would you say? you didn’t even know what you’d seen. maybe nothing at all.
maybe your anxiety really was watching you. maybe it had grown arms and legs and a face hidden under a rain-soaked hood. maybe it had always been there, just waiting for the right day to show itself.
either way, it started then.
and it never really stopped.
-ˏˋ⋆ present day ⋆ˊˎ-
the hallway is too quiet for a friday night.
you shuffle down the corridor with a tied-up trash bag swinging limply at your side, socks stuffed in your duck slippers, slapping against the cool tile floor. the overhead light flickers once, buzzing faintly. classic.
you reach the stairwell, already bracing yourself for the sharp chill of the outside air, when you stop short.
he’s there.
leaning against the railing of the third-floor landing, hoodie pulled up over his head, cigarette dangling between his fingers — even though this is strictly a no-smoking building. he doesn’t flinch when you turn the corner. just keeps staring out at the dim skyline, face barely visible under the shadow of his hood.
you slow down, blinking.
he’s not familiar — not really. you pride yourself on knowing every face in this sleepy apartment complex, whether through polite nods in the mailroom or awkward elevator silences. but him? nothing. no name. no room number. just angles and silence.
and yet… something about him rings in your head like a half-forgotten dream.
his profile is soft, almost too pretty to be real. sharp jaw, dark lashes, bangs dipping into his eyes. he looks like he doesn’t belong here — like someone plucked him out of a bigger story and dropped him into yours by mistake.
"hey," you offer, voice casual, just above a whisper. "you new here?"
he doesn’t look at you. doesn’t answer.
awkward.
you shift the trash bag in your hands, trying again. “i live on the second floor. don’t think i’ve seen you around before.”
still nothing. just a small exhale of smoke that curls into the cold night air.
rude, you think. but not in a mean way. more like… distant. careful.
you lean against the opposite railing, letting the silence stretch for a few seconds.
"you look familiar," you say, eyes narrowing. "have we met before?"
this time, his gaze flickers. not quite to you — just past you. a twitch of recognition, maybe. or annoyance.
you can't tell.
but your brain is racing. you know him. you must. maybe in passing. maybe in a memory. maybe you’ve just seen him out here before, on the edge of your vision, existing quietly in the corners of your routine. maybe your subconscious noticed him long before you did.
he stubs out the cigarette and walks past you without a word.
you don’t move. you just watch him disappear down the hall, hoodie covered by a black jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"okay then," you murmur to yourself, staring after him. and you can’t help it — the way your eyes linger on the spot he stood, heart ticking a little faster.
there’s something about him.
you just don’t know what. yet.
───
it's raining the next time you see him.
you’re standing under the overhang by the front entrance, fumbling with your umbrella, when the door swings open behind you. you glance back — and it’s him. again.
hoodie. same brown timberlands. same unreadable expression.
you swear he pauses when he sees you, just a fraction of a second. but maybe that’s in your head.
"you smoke a lot for someone living in a no-smoking building," you say without thinking, half a joke.
he doesn’t laugh. but his lips twitch, barely, like maybe he almost did.
he steps out into the rain without an umbrella.
"hey!" you call, surprised. "you're seriously just gonna walk in that?"
he doesn't stop. doesn't answer. but this time, he does glance back at you over his shoulder. eyes dark. thoughtful. like he’s trying to decide something.
“i’ve seen you before,” you say — louder, more certain now. “i just don’t remember where.”
his mouth parts, like he might say something. but then he turns and keeps walking, rain soaking into the fabric of his hoodie, blending him into the gray of the street.
and you're left standing there, umbrella unopened, heart kicking strangely against your ribs.
───
it’s quiet in the laundry room — too quiet. the kind of quiet that settles in your chest and presses down, like you’re underwater. the overhead light flickers occasionally, buzzing in protest, but no one’s bothered to fix it. you wouldn’t usually be here this late, but your sheets were stained and the smell was driving you insane. so here you are, half-past midnight, leaning against a rickety folding table, waiting.
your phone barely gets signal this far in the basement, and the wi-fi’s always spotty. it’s just you, the low groan of the washer, and your own thoughts trying to make conversation.
until the door creaks open.
you don’t jump, but your spine straightens on instinct. you don’t have to look up to know it’s him — the presence is immediate, unmistakable. that stillness in the air that follows him like a shadow. you finally glance up, and there he is. same black hoodie. same too-quiet footsteps. same face that looks like it doesn’t belong here. like it was carved into something older than this tiny suburban building.
he doesn’t say a word. just drops a bag on the floor and begins sorting laundry like it’s the most normal thing in the world. like you haven’t already seen him twice this week, always at night, always alone, always watching without watching.
“seriously?” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “do you just hang out in weird corners of this complex to freak people out?”
nothing.
he lifts a pair of dark jeans, shakes them out. you watch his fingers. they're pale. long. too clean for someone who lives in this building. you’ve lived here your whole life and never seen him before last week — and yet...
he feels familiar.
“okay,” you continue, stepping off the table now. the room feels colder suddenly. “do you live here? or are you like... a freak with laundry privileges?”
still nothing. you laugh under your breath, but it sounds too loud in the silence. your heartbeat starts to climb your throat.
then he says it. quiet. low.
“you used to wait outside the bakery every thursday. same dark purple coat. hair in a slick bun. you never looked both ways when you crossed the street.”
the words stop you cold.
“what?” you ask, your voice barely audible.
he still doesn’t look at you. he presses a button on the washer. it whirs to life.
“i remember,” he says simply.
and then he walks out.
no explanation. no glance back. just leaves you standing there, spine prickling, air thick with something you can’t name.
you don’t move for a long time. the washer keeps spinning. and somewhere in the back of your mind, a door creaks open — something old, something buried. you know that voice. you know it.
but from where?
and why now?
───
you see him again the next week.
it’s late. everything always is these days. late nights, late thoughts, late feelings that come crawling out of places you’ve spent years trying to bury.
he’s there again by the mailboxes, half-shrouded in the dim glow of the overhead light. same hoodie, same stillness. like he’s always belonged to the dark. like the world moves around him, but never through him.
you don’t say anything this time. just glance at him, let your eyes linger a little too long. the silence stretches like fog between you, thick and almost heavy.
when you get back to your apartment, you sit on the floor of your room, knees to your chest, staring at nothing. trying to remember.
because it’s not just déjà vu. it’s more insistent than that. it’s something sharper. something that presses at the edges of your mind like a dull knife.
you know him.
or—at least, you’ve seen him before. not in this life maybe, but in another version of it. in a hallway, maybe. in a photograph. in a moment you never thought would matter until it does.
you try to pull it apart, memory by memory. but your brain is tired and tangled, the way it always is when you think too hard about the past. especially your own.
your mom used to say you were dramatic. that you let small things become monsters under the bed. “don’t be so sensitive,” she’d snap, when you cried over things she didn’t understand. “you make everything so hard for yourself.”
your dad never said much at all.
they were loud in the wrong ways. silent in the ones that mattered. and you learned early how to turn your feelings into puzzles with missing pieces — complex enough to keep you distracted, but unsolvable enough to stop you from ever really facing them.
and yet, riki… there’s something about him that pulls at those missing pieces. like maybe he was one of them. like maybe he slipped into your life through a crack in the wall and waited, patiently, for you to notice.
was he from your old school? a kid from your neighborhood? someone you passed in a crowd once and never forgot, even if you didn’t realize it?
you hate not knowing. hate how it makes you feel like a child again — helpless and unsettled. desperate for answers no one’s willing to give.
maybe that’s what this really is. not fear. not obsession. just the ache of a memory that refuses to resurface.
he’s a question mark in human form. and you’ve never been good with uncertainty.
you don’t see him again for days.
which should be a relief. it should give you space to think, to forget. but it doesn’t. it just makes everything louder. the silence, the questions, the feeling in your gut that something is watching you — or waiting.
your sleep turns thin and restless. shadows stretch too long across your walls. you start leaving your bedroom light on. just in case.
one night, you wake up at 3:12 a.m., heart racing for no reason at all. it takes a second to realize what pulled you out of sleep — a sound. something light. deliberate.
a knock?
you hold your breath. wait. nothing.
you get up anyway.
there’s no one at the door. of course not. but something catches your eye as you start to turn back — something lying just at the edge of your doormat. small. folded. a piece of paper.
you hesitate, then pick it up. it’s blank on the outside. no name. no writing. nothing.
you open it slowly.
inside, in rushed, almost messy handwriting, are six words:
“do you really not remember me?”
your throat goes tight. your first instinct is to look around, scan the hallway, check the peephole twice. there’s no one.
no sound.
just that question burning in your hands.
do you really not remember me?
your fingers shake a little as you fold it back up. your brain is moving too fast and not fast enough at the same time. and that feeling — the one that’s been gnawing at you for days — it blooms in your chest like a scream that never makes it out.
because now it’s real. now you know you aren’t imagining it. the familiarity, the tension, the way your spine goes rigid every time you see him —
he knows you.
he’s known you.
and maybe you did know him once, too. maybe you still do, buried under everything you’ve forgotten on purpose.
you think about the look in his eyes that first night. the way he never said a word. the stillness of him.
you think of the hallway. the sound that woke you. the note.
you think of how you told your friend the other day, half-laughing, half-serious: “there’s someone watching me, it’s my anxiety.”
but what if it’s more than that?
what if it’s not just in your head?
what if it’s him?
───
it hits you in the middle of folding laundry.
something about the way your fingers move. something about the light slanting in through the kitchen window. warm, but not comforting. and all at once, you’re not in your apartment anymore.
you’re in a house. someone else’s. maybe your own. there’s music playing — muffled through a closed door. a cheap stereo with tinny speakers. old j-pop, the kind that loops endlessly on cassettes. the wallpaper is peeling in one corner.
and then—
a voice. soft. younger. yours.
"why do you always hide when they come home?"
someone's sitting in the hallway. knees pulled to their chest. head down. shadows in the space between them like they’re both in different dimensions.
and then he looks up.
not the man in the stairwell. not riki, not yet. just a boy. sharp eyes, hollow cheeks, hair too long in front. there’s a cut on his lip. fading purple under his eye.
“because it’s safer,” he says.
the air warps around that line, like heat off asphalt. she wants to reach for him, wants to say something back, but the memory curls tighter around her, swallowing the end of it before she can hold on.
then it’s gone.
just like that.
you blink down at the pile of laundry in your lap, hands gone still.
your chest feels tight. throat aching, like you swallowed something heavy. the apartment feels colder than it should. that voice — his voice — still rings somewhere in your bones.
because you’ve heard it before. not recently. years ago.
and suddenly you’re thinking about your father’s anger. how he used to break things before he yelled. how sometimes he didn’t yell at all. how the silence always scared you more. how you stopped inviting friends over after age ten. how there was one boy you let in. once.
his name—
you press the heel of your palm to her forehead, hard, like you can shake it loose.
it won’t come. not yet.
but the shape of it is there, curling at the edges of a memory like smoke. and the boy with the bruised mouth and quiet eyes — he's not a stranger.
not even close.
later that night, you can't sleep.
there's a weight on your chest that won’t lift no matter how you shift under the sheets. it’s not insomnia — it’s memory. something clawing at the back of your skull, begging to be seen.
so you get up.
the air in the apartment is too still. even the hum of the fridge feels distant. you don't bother with the lights. just moving barefoot and slow, like any noise might scare the truth away.
the closet in the hallway creaks when you open it. you kneel. pushing past shoeboxes, tangled cords, the mess of forgotten things. until your hand hits the one you’re looking for.
a red box. scuffed corners. cheap velvet peeled at the edges. inside: scraps of a childhood. yours.
old keychains, broken friendship bracelets, polaroids faded to brown. concert tickets. a snow globe from sapporo. and then—
a photograph.
creased down the center. color bleeding with age. a summer day, maybe. you’re younger. seven or eight. awkward teeth, sunburnt nose, some awful haircut her mother swore looked cute. and beside you —
a boy.
not smiling. just… there. close, but not touching. eyes dark and watchful even then.
and it’s him.
riki.
only it wasn’t his name back then, was it? he went by ni-ki.
your breath catches. you sit back on your heels, heart thudding in your ears.
how could you forget? they lived on the same street. just four houses down. his mom used to walk him to school until she didn’t anymore. and then he stopped coming altogether.
after that, he vanished. until now.
until the stairwell. until the way he didn’t speak but looked at her like he knew everything.
you swallow the sick twist in your stomach. the sudden, sharp cold shivering down your spine.
why was he back?
and why you?
you leave the photo on the kitchen island.
maybe it’s careless, maybe even stupid, but you tell yourself it’ll make more sense in the morning. you’ll wake up, look at it with clearer eyes, and it won’t feel like your chest is caving in. besides, you live alone. and it’s just a photo.
just a photo.
you drag yourself to the couch, the blanket scratchy against your legs, exhaustion curling into your limbs like smoke. you fall asleep fast — but it’s the wrong kind of sleep. thick, dreamless, heavy with something you can’t name. a noise pulls at you. a door. or a voice. or your own heart cracking open.
you wake up just as the first light creeps through the windows. your mouth is dry. your tongue tastes like copper.
something is off.
you walk into the kitchen, still half in a fog—and stop.
the photo is gone.
you freeze, staring at the empty spot where it had been, your thoughts moving too fast and too slow all at once. the red box is still there. untouched. the lid sitting open like a mouth waiting to swallow more. you check the floor. under the fridge. between papers. nothing.
no one could’ve taken it.
the door was locked. the windows haven’t budged. you were here. you were alone.
a chill slides down your spine, sharp and crawling. you think of him again. the way he looked at you in the stairwell. not confused. not curious.
just watching.
like he already knew what you would find.
your breath catches. you don’t even realize you’ve backed up until your shoulder hits the wall.
you don’t understand what’s happening, but something is— and it’s closing in.
the silence hums in your ears. the wind slips against the glass like breath. and then you see it.
something on the kitchen table.
not the photo. but something folded.
small. white. placed exactly where the photo had been.
your name is written on the front.
in handwriting you almost recognize.
you stare at the folded paper like it might burn through the table. your name, in soft, slanted letters—almost familiar, like a half-remembered dream. the kind you wake up from with your chest tight and eyes wet, but can’t explain to anyone without sounding insane.
your fingers hesitate.
you don’t want to touch it. you want to burn it. you want to leave the apartment and never come back.
but your hand moves anyway, like it isn’t yours. like you’re being pulled by something older than memory.
the paper is heavier than it looks. the kind of paper someone saves. the kind that lives in boxes under beds, waiting to be found.
you unfold it slowly. deliberately.
the first line makes your stomach drop:
“you used to laugh with your whole face.”
your throat tightens. your vision blurs at the edges. you keep reading.
“i remember when you were afraid of thunderstorms. you’d hide under the table with that stuffed bear. the one with the missing eye.”
you sink into the nearest chair. it creaks beneath you. your heartbeat pounds in your ears like thunder.
how does he know that?
no one remembers that.
not even your mother—too busy fighting shadows of men who never stayed long enough to learn your name.
you blink hard, trying to push away the sting in your eyes. your hand shakes as you reach the last line:
“it’s okay if you don’t remember me. i remember you.”
the note isn’t signed.
but you already know who it’s from.
and you’re not sure if that makes it better… or so much worse.
you find yourself standing at the corner of the street, unsure of where to go or how to breathe. the note is heavy in your hand, the words on it are still too real. still too impossible to wrap your mind around.
but you can’t ignore it anymore. you’ve been running from something, running from the truth, but it’s all catching up with you. and it starts with one thing—one person—who might just hold the answers.
you text jake. i need to talk to you.
he replies almost immediately: come over. i’ll make coffee.
you don’t hesitate. your body moves before your brain can catch up.
jake’s apartment smells like coffee, like books, and like something homey you can’t quite place. you’ve always liked it here—quiet, safe, with jake’s easy smile and the way he always listens like he doesn’t have a million things on his plate.
but today, when he opens the door, his smile falters. his eyes linger on the note in your hand before he invites you in.
“what’s going on?” he asks, his voice soft. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“worse,” you murmur, sitting down at the kitchen table. “riki. the guy from my apartment building. the one i’ve been thinking about.”
jake’s face changes. his usual calm demeanor cracks for a split second, but it’s enough. enough to make you sit up straighter, enough to make your heart skip a beat.
“what do you mean, the guy you’ve been thinking about?” he asks carefully. “y/n, you’ve been telling me you’ve never met him before. he’s just some weird guy who shows up at random times. are you sure you’re okay?”
you hesitate. the note is still in your hand. you want to show it to him, but something holds you back. you can’t explain this to him without sounding insane.
“he knows things, jake. about me. about my childhood. stuff no one would know.” you pause, swallowing hard. “it’s like he’s been... watching me.”
the silence in the room thickens. jake stands still, his hands gripping the edge of the table. you can feel his mind working through it, piecing things together. finally, he exhales sharply.
“you know who he is, don’t you?” jake’s voice cracks just a little, and you hate that you can hear it.
“he’s riki,” you whisper. “i know it.”
jake looks like he’s just seen a ghost too. but it’s worse than that. it’s betrayal, old wounds you never knew were still there.
“how do you know him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
jake runs a hand through his hair, his face tight with something you can’t read. "riki... he was my best friend back home. we were inseparable when we were kids, after he randomly showed up one day. before everything in his home town happened. before he disappeared from there."
you lean forward, your heart racing. "why did he disappear?"
jake looks away, his eyes shadowed with memories. "riki got tangled up in some bad stuff, y/n. things that don’t go away, things that ruin people. he got in with the wrong crowd—gangs, debts, all kinds of shit. he disappeared from there too and... no one ever really knew what happened. but the rumors started. they said he ran. he left everything behind."
your throat tightens. “but... he didn’t.”
jake’s gaze is heavy, dark. “no. he didn’t. he’s been trying to stay hidden ever since. but some ghosts don’t stay buried, y/n.”
your chest tightens. you’ve been living in the shadow of something you can’t even remember fully. and now it’s back.
───
later that night, you find yourself standing in front of riki’s door, your heart hammering in your chest. you knock once, twice, and wait.
the door opens slowly, and riki stands there, eyes wide, almost guilty. he looks different in the light, darker somehow, worn and tired. but the same fire is still there. it’s still riki.
“you know, don’t you?” he says, his voice tight, like he’s holding something back.
you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “you disappeared. you ran. kept running. and i don’t understand why.”
riki’s eyes flicker with something—pain, maybe. “it’s not that simple. there’s things you don’t know, things i can’t tell you.”
you step closer, ignoring the hesitation in your chest. “i need to know, riki. everything. i need you to tell me.”
his jaw clenches. but then he opens the door wider, his shoulders slumping as he gestures for you to come inside.
you step into his dimly lit apartment, your heart racing. the room feels charged with something unspoken, like the air is holding its breath.
“i didn’t want you to get involved in all of this,” riki says, his voice raw. “but now that you know, i can’t just leave you hanging.”
you take a step forward, your hand trembling as you reach for him, the tension between you unbearable. “you’re not alone in this anymore, riki. i’m here.”
he looks at you, eyes haunted, like he’s trying to decide if he can trust you. then, without warning, his lips crash against yours.
you freeze for a second, the intensity of it taking you by surprise. but then your body reacts, pulling him closer, kissing him back with everything you’ve been holding in. it’s messy, desperate, like neither of you knows what’s happening but can’t stop it.
his hands are everywhere—on your waist, your back, your neck—like he’s trying to memorize you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
your heart is racing, your body pressed against his, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s on fire.
riki pulls back, his breathing shallow, his forehead resting against yours. the tension between you two is still there, but it's different now — softer, like a thread connecting you in a way neither of you can fully explain.
"y/n," he says, his voice low but intense, trembling slightly. "there are things i never wanted to tell you, things i couldn't bear to say. i thought it would be easier to push you away, to make you hate me before you found out... but i can't do it anymore. i can't keep lying to myself."
you step back a little, your chest tightening as you watch him. his eyes are full of so many emotions—regret, pain, love—but it’s the last one that makes your heart ache with something you didn’t expect.
"i’ve been in this dark place for so long, y/n. i never thought i could get out of it. i pushed everyone away, especially you, because i knew if i let you in, you’d see the mess i am... but you’re the only one who’s ever mattered. i’ve always known it, even when i was too afraid to admit it. i love you."
his words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. and you feel something inside of you break wide open—something you’ve been trying so hard to protect, trying to hide.
“i’ve always loved you,” riki continues, his voice softer now, almost like he’s confessing a secret that’s been buried for too long. “even when i tried to run from it, even when i tried to push you away... you were always the one. always.”
you can barely find your voice, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his words. "riki, i—"
but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently. "no, listen. i know i’ve hurt you. i know i’ve been distant, but everything i did... i did it because i was scared. scared of losing you. scared of what you’d think of me if you knew everything. but i can’t hide anymore. not from you. i’ve never stopped loving you. not even for a second.”
tears sting the back of your eyes, but you blink them away, letting his confession settle inside you. your heart feels too full, too full of emotions you don’t know how to contain. you take a deep breath, your voice trembling when you finally speak.
“i’m not going anywhere, riki,” you whisper, the words catching in your throat. “i never was. i don’t care about the past... i don’t care about what happened before. i care about you. i’ve always cared about you.”
for a moment, neither of you moves. the world feels so quiet, like everything has stopped, and it’s just the two of you in this space—this moment where everything you’ve both been hiding finally comes to light.
riki steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your skin. his eyes are soft now, almost like he’s memorizing every detail of you, like he never wants to forget this moment.
“can i kiss you again?” he asks, his voice so soft, so unsure. it’s like he’s asking for permission, like he’s afraid of making the wrong move.
you nod, your breath catching in your throat. “please,” you whisper.
and then, his lips are on yours, gentle but urgent, like everything he’s held inside of him is pouring into this kiss. his hands slide to your back, pulling you closer, and you melt into him. you kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding onto, everything you’ve been feeling but never knew how to say.
when you pull back, both of you breathless, riki presses his forehead to yours, his hands resting gently on your hips. his eyes are full of that same tenderness, that same love that’s been there all along.
“i love you, y/n,” he whispers again, this time with more certainty, more peace. “and i always will. no matter what.”
and in that moment, you know, without a doubt, that everything—every question, every fear, every hesitation—has been worth it. because now, in this space, with him, everything feels right.
“i love you too, riki,” you say softly, the words more sure now. “i always will.”
and the kiss that follows is more than just passion—it’s a promise.
he breaks the kiss and leads you to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. he pulls you onto his lap and crashes his lips against yours once again.
but this kiss, it’s different than the others.
it’s hot. fiery. desperate.
his tongue bullies its way into your mouth, fighting for dominance which you happily give him. as you continue making out, he becomes increasingly handsy. they fly from your jaw, to your shoulder blades, sliding down to rest on your ass. he grips your clothed flesh with desire.
and that's when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness settled between his legs. pressed against your burning hot core.
you gasped into his lips and he swallowed it up eagerly.
he rolled your hips down onto his crotch, seeking friction to ease his hard on. groaning into the kiss, he broke it, tilting his head back.
you carefully observed how his adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed, your self control fading into nothing. reaching out to grab his neck, you lightly apply pressure as you leave sloppy, wet kisses all over his jaw. your eyes drop to his collarbones, noticing his hoodie getting in the way.
you shift in his lap, knees sinking further into his bed as your hands find his shoulders for balance. riki looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly like he’s caught between breath and want. his hoodie is bunched up from where your fingers had tugged at the hem earlier, and when you reach for it again, he doesn’t stop you.
you pull it over his head slowly, your fingers grazing warm skin as the fabric slides up and off. beneath it, he’s wearing a black tank top that clings to him in all the right places—soft cotton stretched over lean muscle, tracing the shape of his chest and the dip of his waist.
his collarbones catch the low light of the room, sharp and defined, leading down to the elegant curve of his neck. you can see the slight rise and fall of it as he swallows, your gaze drifting lower to the sculpted line of his biceps, muscles flexing subtly under your weight, like he’s holding back.
he looks devastating like this—relaxed and bare in a way that feels forbidden, like you’re seeing something no one else is allowed to.
"you’re staring," he says quietly, a flicker of amusement in his voice, but there's a softness to it too, like he doesn’t mind being seen this way. like he wants you to look.
you smile, brushing your fingers across his shoulder, down his arm, feeling the strength beneath the surface. "can you blame me?"
he laughs under his breath, hands settling at your hips, warm and steady. "not really."
you lean in closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, right where it meets his collarbone. he shivers under your touch, and you feel it in your core—how easy it is to fall into him, how right it feels to be here like this.
you push him further on his bed, his back hitting the soft comforter, hands never leaving your hips.
he captures your lips once again in a kiss that's delicate, like he’s trying to process everything but he can’t. are you really here with him right now? his childhood best friend who he forced himself to cut contact with—but then again, did he ever really cut contact with you? he had to make sure you were okay one way or another, so he watched from the shadows. even if it meant sacrificing his greatest love. you.
as if you could sense the gears overheating in his brain, you pull away from him and stare into his familiar brown eyes. he pouts and you see a glimpse of ni-ki. the scared, eight year old who you’d give up anything to protect.
he cradles your face like you’re made of glass and whispers, “are you sure you want this, angel? because once i start… i don’t think i’ll be able to stop.”
you nod your head, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for him, “words, baby. i need words, hmm?” you bite back a flustered smile, “yeah ni-ki, i want this. you.”
he grins hearing his childhood name fall out of your soft, sweet lips and picks you up off his lap so he can rest with his back against the headboard.
settling back on his thighs, and becoming increasingly impatient, you roll your hips against his, surprising him.
he lets out a breathy moan, urging you to continue. you want to hear each of his pretty sounds.
pressing your clothed clit into the tip of his dick, he closes his eyes, biting his lip. you feel him pulsing beneath you, the thin layer of his sweats not doing much to hide his arousal.
neither of you have ever been this turned on just by kissing, heavy petting, and grinding. but neither of you dare to stop. it feels too good, like a craving you’ve subconsciously had.
riki pauses the movement of your hips, being the first one to break this careful, but familiar, tension between you two. “baby, give me a sec. i’m c-close,” he mutters.
wanting to see what he looks like when he finishes, you grin, dragging your hips down harder and slower, in a teasing manner. he groans, but with the same teasing energy, bucks his hips up into yours, allowing you to feel just how big he is—and he knows it, too. judging by your reaction, he can tell it’s been a while since you’ve both been intimate with someone else.
feeling his release closer than he’d say out loud, he takes control of your movements, speeding them up. you can feel how badly he needs this. how desperate he needs you.
the friction of his covered cock rubbing repeatedly on your sensitive clit, feels better than anything you’ve ever tried with others or yourself. you’re both panting, forehead to forehead, when everything comes crashing down. riki releases into his gray sweats, making a mess. he swears he’s never cum that hard. and your panties get increasingly sticky and uncomfortable.
basking in the aftermath of your shared orgasm, riki gently holds you by the waist, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. lots of “you did great,” “that felt so good, baby,” and a lot of whining. “i need you so bad,” “please, angel, i’ll make you feel so so good.”
who are you to deny your first and only love?
you slowly stand on wobbly legs, stripping, giving riki a show.
he gawks as you remove each item of clothing, starting with your shirt. he’s surprised you aren’t wearing a bra but when your perky tits come into his eyesight, he’s right in front of you. grabbing—licking—whatever’s closest to his mouth and hands.
feeling a bit exposed, while he’s still fully clothed, you whimper into his mouth, silently asking him to take his clothes off as well.
speeding up the process, he rips his tank top off and finally. finally. you get a glimpse of what he always hides under his baggy hoodies. sculpted by the greek gods, you nearly drool at his defined torso. reaching out to drag a hand down his abs, riki shivers at your gentle, yet burning, touch.
you back him up so he sits on his bed and slowly sink to your knees. he leans back on his palms, quiet, but watching you like a hawk. you bring a hand up to cup his bulge, not caring about the sticky stain he’s left.
he groans, low, hot, and it goes straight to your wetness, practically leaking on his floor.
with your hands gripping his waistband, you look up into his dark eyes, clouded with lust, and he nods lifting his hips. yanking his sweats down, you’re met with his hard cock, slapping his abs. “no boxers, huh?” you smugly ask, as if he anticipated this. “nah, not when i’m relaxing, sweetheart.” sweetheart. the name he called you the last day you saw him as kids.
staring at his flushed cock, you lick your lips, ready to devour the man sitting in front of you.
you start by gripping his base, your fingers not fully wrapping around him. how the fuck are you supposed to fit him inside your mouth? a problem you’ve never faced, but for riki? you’d be stupid not to choke on it.
giving his tip sweet little kitten licks, you dig your tongue into his slit, as if you were trying to drink up all his precum. “fuck,” he grunts out, hoping you didn’t discover how sensitive he was at his tip.
he thinks you didn’t, but he should really know better.
you focus all your attention on his swollen head, sucking softly and jerking off the rest of his lengthy dick. his back falls flat, resting on his bed, while he lets out a symphony of moans.
abruptly, you pull off him and when he leans up on his elbows to see why, he’s met with the sight of spit falling from your lips, landing right on his tip. then, his vision goes white.
you lean down, shoving him in your mouth, lips stretched around his girth.
you take him halfway, and the stretch alone is painful already. knowing this might be an issue, riki speaks up, “fuck, you don’t have to take all of me, this already feels so—” but you cut him off, when you sink your mouth further, his tip hitting your throat.
you swallow around him and he whimpers. he’s never felt anything like this before.
when he’s tried to hook up with girls in the past, they normally gave up after a minute of trying to unhinge their jaw to please him.
but with you? he should’ve known you’d be the one to make him proud.
noticing how surprised he is, you start bobbing your head up and down, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.
it’s messy, wet, and loud. but neither of you care. not when riki is whimpering beneath you so prettily.
his tip repeatedly slams into the back of your throat, making you gag but it just turns him on more. his thighs start to tense and he knows he’s close to his second orgasm.
feeling him twitch in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and ignore the tears streaming down your face. only focused on his pleasure. you know exactly what will push him over the edge, so you bring your mouth up his cock, lips wrapped carefully around his tip.
swirling your tongue around it, occasionally focusing on his slit, you bring one hand up to his balls and the other to wrap around his base, applying pressure to the vein running along his shaft.
one second later, your mouth gets flooded with his sticky, hot cum. rope after rope shooting from his enlarged tip. his dick is pulsing in your mouth and his cum never ends. it’s spilling out of your mouth onto the floor, but you try and swallow everything you can, not wanting to waste even a drop.
his chest is rapidly rising and falling when you pull off of him with a pop. you wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your shirt and smile sweetly at him, acting like you didn’t just suck him so good his soul left his body.
“damn, baby, didn’t know you wanted me that bad.” he says through a smirk. “calm down nishimura, i could’ve filled up a gallon of water with how much you came,” you bite back. he just looks at your tear stained cheeks and a sense of pride swells in his chest.
while he’s lost in his thoughts, you stand up, knees bruised from his hardwood floor.
glancing between his legs, you notice he’s still hard. how much cum does he have for you? you wonder, taking off your jeans and panties in one go.
now that you’re both fully naked, riki gets up off his bed and approaches you, holding one of your hands. he spins you around, taking in your fully nude body for the first time.
noticing his staring, you open your mouth, “are you just gonna stare or fuck me?”
smoothly, he leads you to lie down on his bed, “patience, princess, be good for me while i take care of you, yeah?” oh you’re gone already.
he leans down to kiss you and your hands find his nape, gently grabbing the hair trailing down his neck.
you mistook riki for an ass guy, when his fascination with your tits makes you break the kiss. he’s sucking gently on your right nipple, his free hand finding your left boob.
moaning gently, you tip your head back into his pillow that smells like comfort, and something musky, but it’s something extremely riki. you instinctively arch into his touch, bare core desperately grinding into the air of his bedroom, desperate for friction.
he senses your neediness, bringing his stiff cock down to rub between your soaked folds. his tip catches your clit, eliciting soft whimpers from your parted lips. using your slick as lube, he lines himself up, stopping before he goes further. “condom?” he sweetly asks. you whisper, under your breath, “n-no, i’m on birth—,” however, you don’t get to answer him when you feel his tip slide into your awaiting hole.
both moaning in relief, he stays with just his tip in, preparing you for the stretch that’s about to come. you relax a bit, a signal for him to push a bit further, cutting off his action with a loud moan.
it’s better than any porn he could dream of, and he’s only about two inches in. the sheer girth of him alone makes it feel like he’s splitting you open in the best way possible.
you look down, thinking he’s halfway in, when in reality, he’s about a fourth of the way inside you. meeting his eyes, he senses your nerves, bringing a hand down to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves.
it helps distract you from the pain, allowing him to slide half way in. he groans at the sensation of your warm, wet walls, engulfing his aching cock. “baby, you gotta relax… you’re s’tight,” he drunkenly mumbles. you can only whimper in response, exhaling as you try to calm down.
once your breathing has returned to a normal state, riki slowly pushes in more, but it all comes to a halt when you wrap your legs around his torso, pulling him all the way in.
he moans, caught off guard, guessing your patience snapped like a thin wire.
as his thick length rests inside you, you can’t help but let out a string of moans, incoherently babbling about how big he feels, and how deep he’s reaching.
“f-fuck. baby, please, can—can i move?” he forces out. you hum in agreement.
he slowly pulls out until only his tip is sheathed inside your warm pussy, then pushes back in all the way. your eyes roll into the back of your head, “fuck. s—s’big, riks.” his pace steadily increases until he notices how your boobs bounce with each thrust he gives you.
he brings his head down, lips wrapping around one of the perky budd, giving you even more pleasure than you knew what to do with.
loud moans grace his ears, the only other sound being skin slapping.
his attention is dragged back to your face when one of your hands reaches for his and brings it up to your neck. his pace falters for a bit until his face contorts, realization dawning over his lust filled features. “oh? does my baby wanna be choked? dirty slut.” you nod in response.
feeling the pressure of his cold ring clad fingers wrapping around your burning flesh, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension in your tummy building at a rapid pace.
riki suddenly pulls out of you, flipping you on all fours, placing a pillow under your stomach. he drags your hips up, kneading the plumpness of your ass. he slams back into you, reaching even deeper in your guts, as he hovers over your back.
“you like feelin’ me this deep, hm?” he takes your hand and places it over the bump you feel with every thrust. your noises are muffled by his bed, which ticks him off—he wants to hear every sound that slips through your mouth. noticing that you liked things a bit rough, he pulls your hair, bringing you flush against the hardness of his chest.
he stills inside you, letting you feel every inch, twitch, and pulse. he’s holding off his orgasm for as long as he can, but he’s not sure how long he can last when you keep clenching around him.
he knows it’s unintentional, but it feels too good, he just needs a second.
you can feel him breathing down your neck when you begin to move. he tries stopping you, but to no avail, you start bouncing on his stiffened cock.
“f-fuck. gonna—cum,” he moans when he attempts to pull out. you push him back down, needing to feel him fill you up. “no. inside,” is all you can muster when he makes a sound of confusion.
slowly gaining confidence, you turn around, and flip him over so you’re on top of him.
flustered by the change in positions, riki gasps when you start to move. his hand finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles.
the band in your stomach starts building, fueling both of your desperation.
your orgasm comes crashing down in waves, pushing riki to buck his hips up, fucking you through it. “that’s it, baby, let it out. c’mon, be a good girl f’me and make a mess,” he mutters out, wanting to prolong your pleasure for as long as he can.
as you cum, your walls uncontrollably clench around his dick, making it harder for him to slide in and out. he starts to chase his own high, gently placing your head back on his pillow and picking up your legs to rest on his shoulders.
he pistons in and out of you, mind hazy, consumed with the need to cum inside of you.
groaning, he stills in your abused cunt, flooding you with the gift of his cum. each pulse, you clench around his hard cock, milking him dry.
he’s on cloud nine, feeling the way you’re taking everything he could possibly offer you.
just as he thinks he’s nearing the end of his high, you whisper in a sultry voice, “you’re still hard, riks,” which makes his skin flush a deep red. his balls tighten and somehow a couple more ropes of cum shoot into your womb. he doesn’t know what you do to him, “take it out on me, baby, i can’t imagine how pent up you must be…” and that does it for him.
wanting to try something new, he straddles your torso, pushing your plush tits together. he aligns his sensitive cock between the flesh and slowly slides through. you stick your tongue out, trying to lick his tip each time it peeks between your boobs.
his cock is nearly too thick for your tits to wrap around him, but he doesn’t care. the sight is more than enough for him to finish.
he’s already close.
the sensitivity gets to him when you begin to hold your tits together, giving him an unobstructed view of you. each time your tongue laps at his slit, he feels himself growing closer to the high he so badly craves.
what really does it for him, is when you spit between your breasts, further lubing his cock. with a low, drawn-out moan, he paints your tits and face with his cum. the sight is too much, his balls go into overdrive, pulsing out more and more ropes of his white, messy load.
your mouth hangs open, wanting to taste more of the salty substance. he thinks you’re perfect.
he collapses on top of you, feeling spent and tired. it’s only when you whine about the stickiness between your legs, on your boobs, and on your face that he gets out of bed, rushing to his bathroom.
he makes his way back over to you with a warm washcloth, and the softest touch you’ve ever felt. he gently cleans the mess he made, only now realizing how much cum he gave you.
and you took all of it. his good girl.
once he’s done wiping away his mess, he picks you up bridal style, heading back to his bathroom. to your surprise, he drew you a bath, with scented candles—lavender. he remembered your favorite.
he helps you into the tub, climbing in behind you. he shampoos your hair, conditions it, and even washes your body with such care, it brings tears to your eyes.
after many hushed whispers, he drains the bathtub, helping you dry off and get into your (his) clothes.
you both get back into his bed, snuggled against one another, riki’s embrace wrapped around you warmer than any blanket could provide.
“riki?” you whisper, afraid to shatter the delicate silence. he hums in response. “please don’t leave me again,” you say trembling, a silent tear slipping down your cheek.
he turns you to face him, “hey, hey, hey, baby, i’m right here. and i know what i did was shitty, you deserved an explanation. but. i couldn’t let you get caught up in what i was doing. it was risky, i couldn’t be what you deserve,” he croaks out, tears wetting his lashes. now it was your turn to comfort him, “oh my riki,” you cooed, cradling his face.
“you did what you had to do, but what’s important is that you’re here now. with me. okay?” you plant the softest kiss on his plump lips. “okay,” he says with a small smile.
you don’t let go. neither does he. his hands stay on your waist, tentative but needing, like he’s still trying to memorize the feel of you. your fingers linger against his jaw, your thumb brushing the damp skin beneath his eye. there’s silence between you, but it’s no longer heavy—just full. thick with everything that couldn’t be said before.
his lips brush against yours again—slower this time, deeper. like a question. and an answer. you lean in, the way you sigh into him. it’s not desperate, not rushed. it’s reverent.
when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath is shaky. “i missed you,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “missed you so much i forgot how to breathe without it hurting.”
you cup his face in both hands now, heart aching in the best way. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”
and then you kiss him again—like a vow sealed in warmth and want. like a beginning.
reblog if u enjoyed this! and comment or send an ask to be part of my perm taglist <3
[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250419
──. ♬ ݁˖ mix 1: you broke me first
ׂ╰┈➤ producing mixtapes…
──. ♬ ݁˖ mix 1: nonsense
ׂ╰┈➤ producing mixtapes…
ׂ╰┈➤ producing mixtapes…
ׂ╰┈➤ producing mixtapes…
──. ♬ ݁˖ mix 1: anxiety
you thought you could handle being casual with notorious fratboy!heeseung, but when feelings get involved, you soon realize that 'casual' isn't so simple.
PAIRING : fratboy!heeseung x reader
GENRE : smut ( 5 smut scenes lol), fwb to lovers, enemies? to lovers?? & a little angst?? praise & degradation, power control, face sitting, oral lol. also unprotected sex (pls wear a condom@)
WC : 17.7k
MDNI
YOU LOVE CASUAL SEX.
you've always prided yourself on being the type who keeps things casual. it's not that you're afraid of commitment; rather, you find comfort in the simplicity of fucking and then never seeing the person again. there’s no messy entanglements or feelings. it’s a way to satisfy your desires without the emotional baggage that comes with more serious relationships.
you’d rather be alone, but you still have fun with your friends when you go out. you've never been content with surface-level explanations or shallow interactions. you crave depth, in people and experiences. which you have found to be, truthfully, hard in today’s day and age.
you’re sensitive to most things, so you try to cover it up– protect yourself– with all the partying, the drinking, the sex.
and tonight, like every other normal friday night; you’re at a party.
there’s a familiar thump of music and loud chatter around you that you’ve grown accustomed to. yooyeon and gracie, your closest friends are an inseparable couple, are by your side. they've been together for what feels like forever, the kind of relationship that makes you simultaneously envious and relieved you're not in a relationship.
as you continue to sip your drink, yooyeon leans in with her knowing smile, “so, y/n,” teases, “have you decided when you’re gonna settle down? find yourself a nice guy and stop with all these one night stands?”
you roll your eyes playfully, used to this conversation. "never," you reply with a grin, "casual hookups forever, remember?"
gracie chuckles, shaking her head fondly. "come on, yn," she chimes in, her voice warm with affection, “you know it’s gonna have to get boring at some point.”
you shrug nonchalantly, though their words do make you pause for a moment. "maybe someday," you concede, though deep down, you're not so sure. relationships have never been your thing, and the thought of settling down feels suffocating.
"come on, yn," yooyeon nudges you gently, her expression softening, "we love you just the way you are. but don't close yourself off to the possibility, okay?"
you nod, grateful for their understanding. deep down, you know they're right—they always are. but for now, you want to find someone to relieve the ache that’s been in your core all day.
you turn to gracie, the one who always knows all the drama on your college campus, “who is here that i can hook up with?”
gracie rolls her eyes and looks around the crowded frat house, “hm,” she thinks outloud, “well jeongin and bella broke up this week…”
you shake your head, “too soon, i don’t want to be a potential rebound for him.”
yooyeon scoffs and continues to drink, listening to your guys’ conversation.
“how about,” gracie, “mark? he’s real chatty though.”
you groan, “then no.”
gracie goes on a small list of people that she sees around, but none of them suffice. none of them are your type or seem to be able to satisfy you. you tell your friends that you’re going to go get another drink– you’ll need one.
the kitchen table has a handful of drinks to choose from. there’s punch and beer and vodka, half of it has been spilt all over said table.
“the punch is good,” a voice suddenly says from beside you.
when you turn, you instantly recognize him– he’s one of the frat boys that lives in this house, maybe the most popular one of them all.
lee heeseung stands beside you with an air of confidence that is probably more on the cocky side. his posture is relaxed yet demeaning. his hair is tousled and his clothes give off a carefree attitude.
pretty much everyone at your college knows lee heeseung from his parties, his stories, the multiple girls he has slept with. you’ve heard enough stories about him to write an entire book, yet his entire persona is more annoying than appealing to you. his entire act is one that you’ve seen played out too many times before.
“good to know,” you say and grab a beer instead.
heeseung raises his eyebrow at your choice, “i’m heeseung.” his voice is smooth and cuts through the noise of the party.
you take a sip of your beer, “i know who you are.” you reply bounty, not bothering to hide your disinterest.
intrigued by your coldness, “right,” he acknowledges with a smirk, “and i know who you are.”
“congrats," you say dryly, with a fake excitement to your tone.
heeseung suddenly leans in closer to you and whispers into your ear, his voice low, "you're the girl who only does casual sex, right?"
you're taken aback by his boldness, but there's a flicker of curiosity in your eyes. "i might be,"
heeseung smirks down at you at your answer. you let yourself think that maybe the notorious fuckboy is pretty handsome. his complexion seemingly glows, his eyes are full of a flirty playfulness, and his smile is charming enough.
“well, do you wanna have casual sex with me?”
if it wasn’t lee heeseung standing in front of you, you would be surprised.
instead, you let out a groan, your face contorts in disgust, “god no.”
heeseung tilts his head, “why not? i thought you were into that.”
“because you’re like a walking std.”
instead of getting offended like you had hoped, heeseung bursts out laughing in the middle of the kitchen, his eyes squinting.
"damn, straight to the point," he manages between chuckles, clearly amused by your blunt response.
you roll your eyes, trying not to let his laughter get under your skin. "just being honest," you retort, though there's a hint of begrudging amusement in your tone.
“i’ll see you around, y/n.”
you turn on your heel, your back already faced him when you reply, “no, you won’t.”
you walk back to gracie and yooyeon, who greet you with curious expressions. "what took you so long?" gracie asks, her eyebrows raised expectantly.
you sigh, shaking your head with a hint of annoyance. "lee heeseung just asked me for casual sex," you reveal, your voice tinged with disdain.
yooyeon's face scrunches up in disgust, mirroring your sentiment. "ugh, gross,”
gracie nods in agreement, her expression reflecting your collective disappointment. "every girl he gets with is so desperate," she comments, her voice laced with frustration.
"and heeseung is just... ugh," you add, unable to hide your distaste. gracie giggles mischievously. "and hot," she adds playfully.
yooyeon and you groan simultaneously, sharing an exasperated look. you push thoughts of heeseung aside, deciding to focus on enjoying the party with your friends instead. because the thought of hooking up with lee heeseung and becoming another one of his girls makes you want to throw up more than this beer you’re drinking.
later, when the party winds down and you’ve danced and drank and socialized as much as you could, you look around and realize that yooyeon and gracie are nowhere to be seen. when you glance at your phone you notice gracie texted you half an hour ago.
gracie : [yooyeon is throwing up so i’m taking her home, sorry]
you groan, great, they were your ride home.
and now you're stranded at this frat house.
you head out to the porch, contemplating whether you should walk or call an uber.
sitting on the porch, the night air cools your frustration slightly, but you're still annoyed at the situation. just as you're about to say fuck it and call an uber, the front door swings open behind you.
“well, if it isn’t y/n sitting all alone on my porch,” a voice says that makes you turn your head to unfortunately recognize lee heeseung.
you roll your eyes, not in the mood for his games. "what do you want, heeseung?"
heeseung chuckles, unbothered by your tone. "just wondering why the girl who is known for loving one night stands is sitting here alone.”
"don't you have anything better to do?" you retort, crossing your arms defensively.
he leans against the railing, looking down at you sitting on the stairs. “like what? catching an std?”
you scoff, “yeah, exactly that actually.”
heeseung laughs, a low, genuine sound. "come on, yn. don't be so cold. why don't you come back inside? there’s still some people inside."
“no thanks, i’m calling an uber.” you shiver as you finish your sentence, the night air circling harshly against your bare arms and legs.
heeseung notices and his expression softens slightly. "how about i get you a sweater before you leave?"
"no," you reply quickly, but your body betrays you with another shiver.
"come on," heeseung insists, his voice surprisingly gentle. "it'll take two seconds, and you seem so cold. how long have you been sitting out here?"
you sigh, ignoring his questions as you stand up, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. "let's get me a sweater," you mutter, conceding to the chill. "and make sure it's a clean one."
heeseung laughs, a warm sound that oddly makes you feel less irritated. "i promise," he says, leading the way back inside. there’s a few people left in the living room as you walk past it. you don’t miss the way they stare at you following heeseung. you recognize the few boys as other owners of the house– heeseung’s frat brothers. and you’re sure the girl they’re with are their hookups for the night. you feel like throwing up when you realize you look like one of them as you follow heeseung into his room.
heeseung opens the door on the furthest left and gestures for you to enter first.
lee heeseung’s room is exactly what you imagined it; messy, with clothes strewn everywhere and empty whiteclaws piled high on his desk that is definitely ruining the textbooks underneath them. you raise an eyebrow but heeseung just grins sheepishly.
“what? i like the lived-in look,” he jokes, closing the door behind you. he heads over to his closet and rummages through it for a moment before pulling out a sweater and handing it to you. “here you go. freshly laundered, just for you."
you take the sweater, feeling the warmth and softness between your fingers. "thanks," you say, pulling it over your head. the fabric is warm, and you can't help but feel a bit grateful despite your annoyance with him.
heeseung watches you with a bemused smile. "see? not so bad, right?"
you roll your eyes, not looking at him and instead looking around his room.
why so tense?” heeseung's voice breaks through your thoughts. you guess it’s hard to pretend lee heeseung doesn’t exist when you’re standing in lee heeseung’s room.
you finally look at him, leaning casually against his dresser with that annoying smirk on his face. “what do you want, heeseung?”
he laughs softly, taking a step closer. “what do you think? i want to have a good time, and you’re the most interesting girl here tonight.”
“oh, is that so?” you reply, crossing your arms. “and what makes you think i’m interested?”
heeseung raises an eyebrow, “because you’re here, aren’t you? and you’re not exactly running away.”
you hate how smooth he is, how easily the words roll off his tongue. like he’s planned this all along. “maybe i’m just cold and wanted that sweater you promised.”
“maybe,” he agrees, his eyes never leaving yours. “but i think there’s more to it than that. you and i—we’re not the relationship type. we both know it. so why not have some fun?”
you don’t like how close he is to you know. you can feel the back of your bare thighs touching his desk now that he’s stepped so close to you.
“fun?” you echo, half-amused, half-annoyed. “you mean, be like every other girl you’ve been with? you think i’m just another easy girl?”
“not at all,” heeseung says, shaking his head. “you’re different. you’re not looking for anything serious, and neither am i. it’s perfect. no strings attached.”
“perfect,” you mutter, more to yourself than to him. the idea is tempting, as much as you hate to admit it. no strings attached, just two people having a good time. isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? no guy getting obsessed with you after one night. not hurting anyone’s feelings. plus, it would be easier to get laid– you wouldn’t have to rely on gracie to see who’s available.
“think about it,” heeseung says, his voice dropping to a whisper as he steps even closer. “no pressure, no feelings. just... fun.”
you look up at him, his face now inches from yours. you feel like he’s reading your mind. you really think it’s that simple, heeseung?”
“it can be,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “if we let it.”
you hesitate, trying to think of all the cons to accepting his offer but, “fine,” you finally say, your voice steady. “but if you think you can play games with me like all the other girls, you’re wrong.”
heeseung grins, clearly pleased with your answer. “of course not.” he sticks out his pinky finger so it’s in between your bodies, “no strings attached?”
you don’t hesitate to interlock your pinky with his at this question, “no strings attached.”
heeseung’s eyes turn dark at the first feeling of your skin touching, “so, what do you think? should we start now?”
you nod slowly, feeling a strange mix of excitement and apprehension. “yeah. let’s start now.”
heeseung’s hands found your hips, pulling you against him as his lips descended to yours. you could feel the hardness of his muscular body and the heat radiating from him. your lips met, and you hate how you thought of how soft his are against yours. you part your lips, letting his slip against yours.
the kiss was rough and needy and demanding. his lips move early against yours. his tongue traced every corner of your mouth, exploring you for the first time. you kissed him back fervently, your hands staying perched on the corner of the desk behind you.
he tasted like mint and alcohol, and you hated that you wanted more.
the kiss deepened as heeseung explored your mouth, sucking on your lower lip before delving inside again. you found the urge to moan into his mouth.
heeseung's hands left your hips, sliding up your body to cup your breasts, kneading and squeezing gently. you arched into him, your desire growing with each touch and kiss. he broke the kiss, trailing hot, wet kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nibbling and sucking on the sensitive skin, leaving your breath coming in short, quiet gasps.
"you feel so good against me," he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, sending shivers down your spine that you hoped he didn’t notice.
heeseung's hands slid down your body, cupping your ass, lifting you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. you could feel his hardness pressing into your core, making you ache with need. he carried you a few steps to his bed before lowering you onto the soft mattress.
you lay back, your breath coming in quick pants as heeseung loomed over you, his eyes dark with lust. he hovered above you for a moment, before claiming your lips once more, kissing you deeply. his hands begin to explore, mapping your body with eager fingers. heeseung's kisses trailed lower, nipping and sucking at your neck. you have to tell yourself to not moan.
heeseung pulled back, his eyes glistening as he looked down at you laying in his bed, chest heaving from kissing. he hooks his fingers into the waistbands of your skirt and panties, pulling them down your legs slowly, his eyes staying on your now exposed core.
heeseung kneels between your legs, gripping your thighs so they stay pushed apart, “god you’re so wet.”
you nod at him, figuring that you were since you’ve wanted to get laid since this morning. you waited all day to come to this part, just to end up with lee heeseung of all people. though, you feel exposed to him. your core is pulsating as you watch him lean in, his pink tongue sneaks out to taste you.
you instantly gasp at the feeling, biting your lip to contain any other sounds of your own. you didn’t expect his tongue to feel so good– but you tell yourself it’s because you’ve been needy all day and not because heeseung is an apparent god with his mouth.
“do you like it, y/n?” he asks you, his mouth mumbling into your core. hsi voice is hoarse ashe looks up at you from your legs, “you like my tongue on your sweet pussy?”
you grip his sheets with your hands, determined to not give the cocky lee heeseung a bigger ego boost. you breathe through the pleasure of his tongue circulating your clit. his tongue puts heavy pressure on your clit as he slowly circles it before dropping his tongue to your aching hole. he moans at the taste of your weeping juices.
heeseung slides one of his hands up to your clit to rub it as his tongue fucks you. his tongue does fast motions back and forth in your hole. it makes your squirm and cuss mentally as he brings you close to the edge so quickly.
just as you start thinking you could cum, he stops– completely pulling away from you.
you sit up on your elbows and look at him between your legs, your eyes furious as you pant, “what the fuck?”
heeseung only dryly laughs at you, “you want this, don’t you, y/n?” he murmurs, his hot brath fanning against your thighs, “tell me you want me.”
you bite your lip, your heart pounding in your chest. you don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but your body is betraying you with its needy responses to everything he does, “no.” you whisper defiantly.
heeseung leans in closer to your pussy, just millimeters away, “tell me you want me, or i’ll stop.” he threatens, his hand moving down your thigh, “tell me, and i’ll make you feel so good.”
you blame your horniness for your decision, “i want you.” your voice is full of desire as your body basically cries out for release.
then, heeseung buried his face in your core, his tongue swishing back and forth, wanting to pleasure you. a shockwave of pleasure rips through you, and you cry out, your hand flying to cover your mouth. you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as he began to makeout with your core.
you tried to control your reactions, but your body was betraying you. your one hand stayed on your mouth, preventing any sounds from escaping, while the other hand stayed gripping his sheets.
heeseung glances up and notices your hand on your mouth, “don’t hide your moans, y/n,” he growled, “let me hear how good i’m making you feel.”
heeseung slips two of his fingers into your wet hole as you open your mouth to respond with a snarky answer but instead, a loud moan leaves your mouth. the sudden intrusion makes you buck your hips up, wanting him to find your g spot, wanting him– lee heeseung– to make you cum. “oh, fuck,”
“that’s it, y/n, let me hear you,” he mutters into your core, his fingers starting to thrust in and out of you, “you can’t hide that i’m making you feel good. i can tell by the way your pussy is clenching around me.”
your breath quickened as he spoke, his words only serving to heighten your pleasure. “i hate you, heeseung.”
he hums in response, sending vibrations through your core, you could feel your knees buckle around his shoulders, “you don’t hate this, though, do you, y/n?” his voice is smug as he continues to lick and nip at your throbbing clit. “you can’t deny how much you’re loving my mouth on your pussy.”
“oh god,” his words make you squirm, they’re adding to your pleasure. your hands grip tighter onto his sheets. “i’m gonna–”
“cum for me, y/n,” heeseung demands of you, “let me feel you cum all over my face.”
his encouragement makes you cum with a strangled cry. your body shakes uncontrollably as waves of pleasure crash through you. heeseung doesn’t stop, licking and sucking at your flesh as you ride out your climax. finally, when he thinks you can’t take anymore, he pulls away, a cocky smirk on his face as his chin is covered in your juices and saliva. you tell yourself the image of him has no affect on you.
your chest is heaving as you try to catch your breath, “fuck,” you whisper out, your body buzzing.
“i told you i can make you feel good,” heeseung shrugs nonchalantly.
“shut up.”
“gladly,” heeseung says as he hovers over your body again, his lips meeting yours in a frenzy. he lays you back down on his bed, your tongues colliding, tasting each other. the kiss was sloppy and wet and you’re sure that if anyone saw the kiss they would be grossed out– but it feels so good.
you pull apart, heeseung stands off his bed and starts to undress. you take off your shirt, leaving you completely naked on his bed.
“shit.” heeseung states as he stares at you, not looking away from you as he takes off his pants. it’s your turn to smirk at him, your hand slides down to your clit, rubbing it, feeling your hand get soaked from how wet and sticky your pussy is already. heeseung’s eyes are bulging out of his head as he takes off his shirt, leaving him naked.
now that he’s distracted you take a chance to look at him. his body is lean and tan and he has a faint set of muscles that make you drool. he really is good looking, though you’d never tell him that.
his cock is long and hard and veiny as he points upwards, obvious that he’s turned on by you.
heeseung reaches over to his bedside table and grabs a condom, ripping open the package with his teeth as he continues to stare at your hand pleasuring yourself.
“wow, lee heeseung’s a condom guy– i would’ve never thought.” you speak as he slides the condom on his cock easily.
“yeah, because contrary to what you think, i am not a walking std.”
before you could speak again, heeseung is back on the bed and gripping your waist to spin you around. your face is in his pillows and stomach on his mattress.
“you’re such a bad girl, y/n,” heeseung tsks at you, you can feel the head of his cock nudge at your entrance, and despite your inner debate of if having sex with lee heeseung was a good idea or not, your body craves him. he grabs your hips and pulls you back onto him, burying himself deep inside your waiting cunt with one rough thrust. “you act like you don’t want this but your walls practically suck me in.”
you can tell it’s true by the way he stretches and fills you up, the way it’s so hard for him to pull out completely since your walls are so tight around him, wanting him inside you.
“ahh,” you moan out, your neck feeling limp as he starts to thrust into you slowly.
“fuck, you feel good,” heeseung groans, not surprised at all, “but you knew that didn’t you? knew that your pussy was made for my cock?”
you remain silent, not wanting to give his ego any satisfaction. heeseung begins to move faster, now that your walls have adapted to his size. his thrusts are hard, and his balls slap against your clit with each thrust.
the force of his movements pushed you forward with each impact. the slap of skin against skin filled his bedroom, accompanied by your growing moans as you tried, and failed, to muffle your cries of pleasure.
heeseung leaned forward, his mouth close to your ear again as he whispered dirty words. "you like it rough, don't you, you little slut? you like being taken hard and deep, feeling my cock pounding into your tight cunt."
you found yourself nodding against the pillow, unable to form words as the pleasure overwhelmed you. heeseung's hands slid up your body, gripping your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pulling it back, making you look at him over your shoulder as he continued to fuck you roughly. "that's right, take it like a good girl,”
you whimpered, your breath coming in short gasps as he held on tight to your hair– the pain mixing with the pleasure. heeseung released your hair, your upper body falling flat the mattress again. his hands moving down to grasp your hips once more, “come on, y/n, I know you're close," he grunted, his own control slipping as he chased his own orgasm. "let go for me, come on my cock."
his filthy words sent you over the edge, and you cried out as your pussy clenched tightly around his invading member, milking him as your juices flowed freely. heeseung groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep one last time, flooding the condom with his hot cum.
spent, the two of you pull away from each other as heeseung pulls out of you. you both lay in his bed, catching your breaths from the strong orgasms.
“now,” heeseung says, “tell me why us having casual sex is a bad idea?”
for the first time tonight, you feel yourself laugh (probably because of the post-nut haze not because lee heeseung is funny!), and brush your sweaty hair out of your face.
as heeseung stands up, throws out his condom and throws you his sweater to put back on, you think that maybe this isn’t such a bad situation to be in.
as long as he sticks to your “no strings attached” agreement, everything should work out fine.
right?
you hated all your afternoon classes, and so during them, you would be constantly checking your phone or talking with gracie who always sits next to you. she is scrolling through her instagram feed, her phone is angled so you can see it too. the professor’s voice fades into the background.
suddenly, a post from heeseung pops up on gracie’s screen. she groans softly, rolling her eyes at the way heeseung is posing. “whatever happened when he asked you to have casual sex with him last week?”
you try to keep your voice nonchalant when you answer, “uh, nothing much– i called him a walking std and walked away.”
gracie giggles quietly, careful not to draw the attention of your classmates and professor around you. she returns to looking at his instagram account, swiping through all the cringey fuckboy pics, “but he is kinda good looking though, right?”
you shrug, feigning indifference. “eh, i guess.”
you’re already pinching yourself about lying to your best friend. you don’t mean to keep secrets from her, or yooyeon, but you know they wouldn’t want you to be another one of lee heeseung’s girls. the thought of becoming just another notch on his bedpost makes you already sick to your stomach.
before you can dwell on it any longer, your phone vibrates in your lap.
heeseung : [i need ur mouth asap] [3:48]
your heart skips a beat and you jerk your phone away so gracie doesn’t see it. you were not expecting to hear from him right now.
your thumbs hover over the keypad as you think of an answer.
heeseung : [answer pls i’m so fucking hard] [3:50]
you sigh as you feel his written words make you tighten your legs together.
you : [where r u?] [3:51]
heeseung : [2nd floor bathroom] [3:52] heeseung : [the one with the single stall] [3:52]
you : [i’ll be there in 10] [3:53]
you bite your lip as you glance over at gracie beside, her pretty hair wrapped in twists. you hoped she wouldn’t ask too many questions at your departure. you knew that you wouldn’t be able to lie to your friends for long. you just weren’t that type of person.
“you know what grace?” you whisper to her, “i’m not feeling that great, i’ll see you in the next class.”
gracie’s face etched into one of concern, “oh?” she subconsciously reaches to her bag, “do you want me to come with you?”
you put your hand out to stop her as you sling your backpack over your shoulder, “no, no. i’ll be okay i just need a break– i’ll take some meds and see you in an hour with yoo.”
her lips turned into a frown, “okay y/n. if anything happens just text me.”
after telling her that you would, you briskly leave the classroom as quietly as you could, slowly shutting the heavy door behind you to avoid it slamming. you knew exactly what bathroom heeseung was talking about– you knew it was popular amongst students since it was so private.
you briefly wondered how many girls heeseung has brought to the private bathroom before.
but you are forced to push the thought out of your head as you knock on the door of it quietly. only a second later and it opens, heeseung face appearing and as he sees you, a wicked smirk grows on his face. his hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, yanking you into the bathroom so fast you almost fall. you hear him close and lock the door behind you.
you turn around to look at him, he’s leaning casually against the sink, an annoying smirk on his face as he watches your bewilderment expression turn into annoyance.
his dark is tousled, and the harsh bathroom lighting makes his jawline and cheekbones more highlighted. he’s wearing a baggy black t-shirt that hangs over his lean frame. his eyes are dark and full of mischief as they lock onto yours.
“you know i was in class right?” you ask him, arms crossing over your body.
heeseung scoffs, “so?”
“so, i can’t just always leave class or something else for you.”
heeseung feigns a pout, “but i couldn’t stop thinking of what your mouth would feel like around my cock.” you feel the air leave your lungs as he walks closer to you, his hands reaching out to grab your hips, holding you still. “would it feel just as good as your pussy?”
he leans his head down to press a kiss on your lower jaw, “tight?” another kiss under your ear, “warm?” his lips attached to your neck and suckle on it for only a second, “like heaven?”
you look up at him as he pulls away, he can see that your eyes are just as full of lust as his own.
“i guess you’ll just have to see then.” you speak, your voice coming out quieter than you expected.
heeseung’s smirk widened, "get on your knees, then, and show me what your mouth can do."
your breath hitched as you sank to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. you could see the desire in his gaze, but also satisfaction as he realized he had won this round between you.
you reach out and start to pull down his blue jeans and boxers. his hard cock springs out, red and hot and heavy, and so long.
“that’s it,” he encouraged you,” his hands tangling in your hair as you leaned forward, your mouth mere inches from his hardening length. "you're so hot when you hate-fuck me.”
you wanted to protest, to tell him that you didn't hate-fuck, that this wasn't about love or emotions—it was purely physical. but his cock was so close now, and you couldn't deny your craving to taste him, to feel him on your tongue.
wrapping your hand around the base, you guided him to your waiting mouth and moaned softly as you tasted him for the first time. heeseung hissed above you, his hips bucking slightly as you swirl your tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive slit.
"fuck," he groaned, his hands tightening in your hair. "take me deeper, baby."
you obliged, relaxing your throat as you took him inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. heeseung's breath quickened, and he began to move his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, fucking your mouth gently.
"that's it, take it all," he encouraged, his voice hoarse. "you try to hate me, but you can't get enough of my cock, can you? you're my little cockslut, right?"
his degrading words and the way you’re literally on your knees for him makes your pussy clamp around nothing. you hummed in response, the vibrations sending shudders through him. you couldn’t deny that you loved the way he dominated you.
heeseung began to thrust a little harder, a little faster, his balls slapping against your chin. "you're so good at this, taking my cock like a pro.”
your eyes fluttering closed as you focused on the pleasure you were giving him. somewhere in this encounter, you realized that game you were playing with yourself; you wanted to prove that you were the best he'd ever had. that he would always crave your mouth. that no one else could compare to you.
“you know, most girls can't handle my cock. they gag and choke, and can only take me in their mouths for so long before they’re pulling away.” he grunts as he speaks, his words sending shivers down your body.
you pulled back slightly, your eyes look up at him as he traces his cock over your wet lips, “i’m not like most girls, heeseung. i can take it. take all of your big cock.”
heeseung slaps his cock against your lips when you’re done speaking. a spark enters his eyes as he watches your spit shine all over his cock.
“i know you can, baby. i’ve heard about your mouth before,” he nods his head at you, his tip teasing your mouth. “heard about how far you can take dick down your throat.”
his statement made your mind race. he’s heard about your sex life from other guys? you’re shocked that they talked about you like that, and even more shocked that lee heeseung, of all people, has heard the rumors about you. a part of it boosts your ego while the other part is so curious about what else he might have heard about you.
“what?” heeseung asks, seeing your perplexed expression, “i told you that i’ve heard about you before. i didn’t tell you how though.” slowly, heeseung starts to slide his cock back into your mouth, your lips happily wrapping around it. “didn’t tell you i heard how much of a slut you are for a big cock.”
despite his degrading words, you couldn’t help but think of it as true.
he takes his cock out of your mouth again, letting it rest on your face, “it’s true, right? you’ll do anything for a man if his cock is big and hard just for you.”
“yes,” you answer, your voice weak already. you can feel yourself submitting to heeseung and you hate that you love it. “anything.”
“is my cock big enough for you, slut?” he asks, slapping his cock on your face. the degrading act gets your face covered with his precum and your saliva.
“yes, it’s so big.”
heeseung smirks at you, “then take it whole like a good girl.”
he allows you to put his cock back into your mouth. you gag as he hits the back of your throat. your eyes water, but you relax your throat and let him in deeper, wanting to prove to him that you can take it. like you aren’t like the other girls.
heeseung pants above you, his control slipping as pleasure washes over him.
"fuck, you're really so good.” he groans out, “no one's ever taken me this deep. your mouth feels so fucking tight."
you moan around his cock in response, his degradation turning into praises makes you wanna whimper. you continue to suck and lick him as he thrusts his cock into your throat. you felt his balls tighten against your chin.
“you’re such a good girl,” he moans out, his hips thrusting involuntarily, “i might- might cum.” you sucked harder then, hollowing your cheeks around him. “oh fuck!”
you felt his cock twitch, and he abruptly pulled out, his hand wrapped around the base as he stroked himself. but you wanted to feel his hot cum hitting the back of your throat. you whimper out before you take his cock in your hand and put it back into your mouth, swallowing around him again.
"fuuuck!" heeseung cried out, his fingers tangling in your hair as he lost control. "take it, god please take it. swallow my cum for me, baby.”
his words sent a thrill through you, and you sucked hard, milking him harder. he let out a strangled curse as his orgasm hit, his hips jerking as he shot his cum down your throat. you swallowed eagerly, reveling in the taste of him.
heeseung leaned right against the bathroom wall, breathing heavily, his eyes closed as he savored the aftermath of his release. you thought that that would be an image for you to think about later. you sat back on your heels, a sly smile on your lips, your chin glistening.
"damn,” he panted, opening his eyes to look at you. "that was..."
“the best you ever had?” you smile up at him playfully.
“i’d say close to it.”
you smile is replaced by an annoyed look and you immediately stand up and bend over the sink, washing your hands free of saliva, cum and bathroom floor.
“oh come on, y/n,” heeseung nudges you, smiling at your annoyed expression. you don’t look at him, instead you fix your hair, that he’s messed up, in the mirror. “i was joking! of course it was the best– i got to cum in your throat, remember?”
you slam the sink taps off and look at him, your expression makes him burst out laughing. so, you turn and unlock the door, stepping out of the cramped bathroom. the air feels lighter but your mind is still spinning.
“so, does this mean we’re on for later?” he asks, his tone dripping with mock innocence.
you roll your eyes, annoyed. “don’t push your luck, heeseung.”
he chuckles, enjoying your frustration. “you know, you’re kinda cute when you’re annoyed.”
“shut up,” you mutter, turning to leave.
heeseung’s laughter follows you, but then he calls out, “wait, you still have my sweater, by the way.”
you pause, glancing back at him. “oh,” you forgot you even had it, “i can give it to you at the end of the day.”
“okay,” he agrees, his eyes glinting with amusement. “meet me at the parking lot.”
without another word, you walk away, leaving him standing in the bathroom with his jeans still undone at his hips.
at lunch, you, yooyeon, and gracie are sitting in the cafeteria, a lucky find considering how busy it always gets at this time. yooyeon is complaining about her morning class, something about how she hates her professor, she’s waving her fork around for emphasis.
“i swear, if i have to listen to professor kim drone on about supply and demand one more time, i might just lose it,” she groans, stabbing at her salad with unnecessary force. “it’s like he enjoys torturing us.”
gracie laughs, taking a sip of her iced coffee. “well, at least you’re not stuck with professor park, she assigns so much reading, i can barely keep up.”
as they continue to talk about professor, your eyes start to drift and wander around the busy cafeteria. and of course, your eyes can’t help but land on lee heeseung across the room.
heeseung is wearing the same clothes as earlier, but now they’re fixed and worn right again. he’s leaning against the wall, arm over a girl’s head, as he traps her back against the wall. you can tell they’re flirting by the way the girl is giggling and hitting his chest lightly and of course, he’s wearing that annoying smirk.
a strange feeling starts to boil up in your chest as you watch them. it feels like anger and hurt, but you know that can’t be right. this is lee heeseung, the notorious fuckboy. you can’t be angry that he’s flirting with another girl, that’s all he ever does! plus, there are no feelings between you and heeseung. you’re just having casual sex.
you take a deep breath, reminding yourself to be chill, reminding yourself of who you are. you’re the girl who only does casual sex, who doesn’t get attached. this shouldn’t be bothering you. but still, the sight of them together leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
“are you feeling better, yn?” gracie asks you, “you still don’t look so good.”
you turn your head back to look at your friends. concerned etched on their face. your bitter expression must have been obvious on your face.
“i’m alright, guys. don’t worry,” you smile at your loving friends.
yooyeon’s eyes narrow as she glances at you, always so damn observant. “why were you looking at lee heeseung?”
your heart drops. gracie’s head snaps up, curiosity written all over her face. “what? you were looking at lee heeseung?”
you shift uncomfortably, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “what? no,” you say, too quickly.
yooyeon isn’t buying it. “are you sure? because as soon as you looked over in that direction your smile dropped.”
you sigh, knowing you’ve been caught. lying to your friends has never worked; they’re too good to you. “fine, okay, i was looking at him.”
gracie’s eyes widen. “what? why?”
you take a deep breath and come clean, “i might’ve hooked up with him last weekend.”
both of your friends jump in their seats, shocked. “why? what the hell?” gracie exclaims.
“you know how he treats women! you literally make fun of him and the girls that hook up with him all the time!” yooyeon exasperates.
you bury your face in your hands. “i know, i know. it’s part of the reason why i didn’t want to tell you guys.”
gracie’s eyes softens. “you didn’t want to tell us?”
you look up, seeing their concerned faces. “well, i didn’t want you to judge me and call me a hypocrite because i’m already doing that myself.”
yooyeon reaches over, grabbing your hand. “we would never do that, y/n. we were just shocked.”
gracie nods, her expression serious. “yeah, as long as you’re being safe and having fun, we don’t care. we love you.”
“i love you too, guys.”
yooyeon grins mischievously. “okay, but tell us more about you and lee heeseung.”
you sigh and look over to where he was last standing and realize that him and the girl have left. you briefly wonder if he’s taken her to the bathroom where you sucked him only an hour ago.
“uh, we hooked up at the party after you guys left,”
“is his dick really as big as they say?” gracie chimes in her, eyes twinkling.
yooyeon elbows her, “why do you look so excited to hear about lee heeseung’s dick size?”
“sorry, sorry,” gracie apologizes and kisses yooyeon on the cheek. “but y/n, was it?”
“yeah, it’s pretty big.”
“oh my god,” gracie can’t help but giggle out, yooyeon has to elbow her again to get her to stop.
yooyeon turns to look at you, resting her elbow on the table, “and have you seen him since?”
“uhh, yeah.”
“when?” yooyeon tilts her head, interested.
“um, an hour ago?”
“what?!” gracie jolts, shocked from your confession. “is that why you left class early?”
you smile sheepishly at your friends in response. gracie covers her mouth as yooyeon rolls her eyes.
“it’s just casual between us, though. we’ve made an agreement of no strings or feelings attached!”
gracie and yooyeon share a look before yooyeon asks, “so when are you seeing him again?”
you think about it for a second before you see his sweater peeking out of your backpack, “after our next class- i have to give him back his sweater.”
“ouuu,” gracie moves her eyebrows up and down, “you wore his sweater?”
“oh my god stop!” you laugh at her, “it’s casual! nothing serious— i was cold and he let me borrow his sweater!”
yooyeon and gracie share a look again that makes you roll your eyes at them.
you check the time on your phone, “we should get going, class starts in ten minutes.”
the three of you start packing up your bags and lunches and the two follow you out of the cafeteria.
“i can’t believe we’re friends with one of lee heeseung’s girls,” gracie giggles out playfully.
“oh my god, grace,” you groan out, “i am not! it’s chill and casual, i’m not gonna turn into one of his stalker fan girls.”
“you’re one of his girls, y/n, and that’s alright!”
“no, i’m not.”
“yes.”
“no.”
“yes!”
you groan inwardly. the very thought makes your stomach churn. you would never end up in the same category as all those girls you make fun of. you shuffle ahead, not meeting their eyes, as yooyeon and gracie follow behind, giggling at your obvious annoyance. you know their laughter is a gentle tease, but it still doesn’t fix the frustration you’re feeling towards yourself and lee heeseung.
did he have to be so hot?
after class, you head to the back parking lot where heeseung told you to meet him. you say goodbye to your two friends as they drive home together without you. you told them that you’ll just walk home after meeting with heeseung.
you wait outside the college for longer than you expected. almost everyone in the school has left at this point and you start to think that heeseung had forgotten your plan to meet up and give him his sweater.
when there was only a few more cars parked in the parking lot you sighed, annoyed and frustrated. you figured he had left if he hadn’t showed up by now. you felt almost embarrassed to be standing there by yourself for so long.
you throw your bag over your shoulder again and step off the sidewalk, planning to walk home now since your friends had left earlier. you were already plotting your next words to heeseung for making you wait after school for him for no reason.
“y/n!”
you turn at the sound of your name.
the back door of the school was swung open as heeseung rushed to step outside, his bag thrown over his shoulder as he waved at you. you huff, stopping to wait for him to catch up to you. when he reached you, you could tell he was a bit frazzled.
“i’m so sorry, i had a surprise test i had to do,” he says, a hint of genuine apology in his voice.
you huff, reaching into your bag and pulling out his sweater, handing it to him. “here.”
he takes it from you and you feel a sudden drop of water on your hand. both of you glance up at the sky, noticing that the clouds are starting to turn gray and a few more water drops are starting to fall slowly.
“great,” you mumble to yourself. just your luck.
“do you have a ride?” heeseung asks, noticing your growing frustration.
“no, i was hoping to walk home before the rain started.”
heeseung suddenly feels bad that you had to wait so long for him. “i’ll give you a ride,”
you hesitate at his offer. you eyed him suspiciously, wondering his intentions; did he want to drive you home because he was being nice or did he want to fuck you in his car? you wondered if people doing casual sex with each other drive each other home?
he sees your hesitation and further explains, “it’s just a drive and it’s raining. come on, get in my car.”
you sigh, weighing your options. you felt the rain start to increase, “fine,” you finally say, giving in. he leads you to his car, a black, shiny, expensive-looking one, and you slide into the passenger seat.
you look around his car. it’s clean and sleek. and you internally debate if this is what you expected from him or not. he gets in the driver's seat and starts the car. he turns on the heat and you instantly realize how cold it was with the rain hitting you, drenching your hair slightly.
heeseung notices and adjusts the heaters to aim at you, letting you warm up quickly before he’s even pulling out of the parking lot. you tell him your address and give him a few directions on how to get there. hopefully this drive doesn’t take long.
“do you have any roommates?” heeseung asks you, trying to break the silence.
“yeah, i’ve got one. she’s cool.”
“is she one of those girls that you’re always with? the ones you were sitting with in the cafeteria today?”
you pretend to not be shocked that he noticed you in the cafeteria earlier, “gracie and yooyeon? no, they live together. they’ve been dating for a while now.”
heeseung hums, “oh, i never realized they were dating.”
you scoff slightly amused at the possibility that lee heeseung could ever realize something about you or your friends, “hm, yeah. i guess you’re too busy hangin’ with your annoying frat bros.”
heeseung laughs over the steering wheel. his laughs makes a small smile crack on your face. it’s a pure, hearty laugh that echoes loudly in the car.
“hey! my frat bros are not that bad!” he mocks your use of words, “actually they’re some of my closest friends. they've helped me a lot.”
you nod, taking in his words. you wondered how they have helped him before that would make him speak of them so admirably. “which one are you closest to?”
heeseung things for a second, “probably jake. but, he's a year younger than us.”
it goes silent again besides a few directions you give him to get to your apartment. your mind starts to wonder about seeing him with the girl at the cafeteria earlier. you hate to think about him taking her to the bathroom you were just in with him. or worse, taking her to the backseat of the car you’re currently in. you wonder if there’s going to be more girls like her that you’ll have to see him with during the entire time you’re being casual with him.
you gulp, taking a breath before you ask him, “will you be hooking up with other girls as we're like, being casual?”
you keep your eyes out the window once your words are out, watching the rain droplets trail down it. you couldn’t possibly look at him right now.
finally, he speaks, “no, probably not if i have you.”
you force yourself to keep your head turned to the window now. you cannot let him see the smile that creeps along your lips. his words make your chest and heart settle. the girl in the cafeteria is no longer in the back of your mind.
“will you?”
his questions make you turn to look at him, not expecting it. but you keep your face expressionless, keeping your cards close to your chest. “maybe, if they have a bigger cock than you.”
you don’t expect him to burst out laughing again, his voice interrupting the rain landing on the car. it makes you laugh along with him. his eyes squinting as he looks at you with a large smile.
you realize that no matter how hard you try to keep heeseung at a foot length with your usual insults, it doesn’t work. he never gets offended or hurt like all the other guys you’ve hooked up with before. it’s something you commend him for. but it also makes you worry for your own heart.
“good luck trying to find that.”
you grin at him, looking out the window and pointing to the apartment for him to stop at. he puts the car in park and lets you gather your things as you reach for the handle to leave.
“thanks for the ride, heeseung.” you tell him with an earnest smile.
“no problem,” you open the door as he continues, “oh and by the way, it’s your turn.”
“my turn for what?” your face is scrunched up in confusion.
“your turn to text me when you’re needy.”
you roll your eyes at his answer, “yeah, whatever.”
you get out and slam the car door behind you, pretending to not be amused at his words. you walk up the front sidewalk to your apartment, almost to the door when you hear him again.
“thanks for the blowjob, y/n!”
you turn around your jaw dropped as he rolled down his window to yell at you, his annoying smirk on his face. you stick up your middle finger at him from the door, you could hear his laughter as he starts to drive away.
you hope none of your neighbours heard him.
tonight you’re rolling around on your bed, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you contemplate your next move. you lock your phone, staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing. after a week without seeing heeseung, you thought he would’ve caved in by now, but he hasn’t.
sighing, you open your phone again, hesitating before typing out the words. finally, you hit send on a simple message.
you : [can i come over?] [8:38]
he responds almost instantly, as if he was waiting. heeseung : [ yes ] [8:39] heeseung : [ ;) ] [8:39]
you smile to yourself, standing up off your bed and grabbing your coat before leaving, heading straight to the frat house that has held too many parties to remember.
you have only one thing on your mind tonight : make lee heeseung beg for you.
you knock on the frat house door, and it swings open almost immediately. heeseung stands there, shirtless and in sweatpants. you have to remind yourself to be cool and not completely stare him down like you’re ready to pounce on him.
he squints at you, a smirk creeping onto his face. “i actually applaud you for waiting so long to text. i thought you would've caved in sooner.”
you scoff, brushing past him into the house. “i thought the same about you.”
“nope,” he replies casually, closing the door. “i told you, it was your turn.”
rolling your eyes, you respond sarcastically, “well, here I am.”
heeseung steps closer, his hands finding your waist as he leans in with that signature smirk. “let’s go to my room.”
you can’t help but feel a mix of annoyance and excitement as you follow him.
inside his bedroom is the same, messy and chaotic, but his bed is clear and clean. you wonder if he had just made it before you came.
heeseung comes up behind you now that he’s closed and locked the door. he wraps his arms around your waist, his bare chest flush against your back, “did you miss my cock, baby?” he whispers into your ear.
you feel yourself melt against him as you nodded, looking over your shoulder to look at him directly. his eyes were darker and his bangs had fallen over his forehead and eyes as he looked at you. he smirked at your answer and then suddenly pushed you onto his bed.
you lay with your head on his pillow as he gets on his bed and hovers over you. before you can speak his mouth crashes down on yours, his tongue demanding entrance. you moan into the kiss, your hands clutching at his shirt. his hands start roaming your body possessively, keeping you close to him.
heeseung pulls away from your lips to start pressing kisses down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. you take your chance and flip over his body so now he was under you, his head where yours was previously.
you’re straddling his waist as he chuckles, “you wanna be on top, baby?” his voice is teasing and almost mocking.
you glare at him, trailing your hand over his abs and stopping over his hardening cock in his pants. “i’m gonna be on top.”
he raises an eyebrow, a challenge sparkling in his eyes. "go on, then. show me what you got."
your confidence surges as you lean down, your lips brushing his ear. "take off your clothes," you whisper, nibbling on his earlobe. "i want to see how hard your cock is for me."
heeseung listens and pulls down his pants and boxers. when he’s finally naked, you bite your lips, admiring his muscular chest, flat stomach and the small trail of hair leading below his navel. but it's his hard cock, so red and veiny, that catches your eye.
you wrap your hand around the base, pumping slowly as you lean down to press a kiss to the tip. "mmm, you taste so good," you purr, licking up a bead of pre-cum.
heeseung's breath hitches as he threads his fingers through your hair, but you gently bat his hands away. "no, no. i'm in charge here, remember?"
"oh, yeah?" he smirks, his eyes glittering with amusement. "let's see how long that lasts.”
you scowl at him, but it only fuels your determination. tightening your grip, you begin to stroke him faster, using both hands to cover his length. his hips bucked involuntarily, and he groans, his eyes fluttering closed. "fuck, that feels good."
"you like that, hee?" you ask, your voice sultry. "you like it when i take control?"
"yeah, baby, I do," he admits, his breath coming in short gasps as your hands continue. you hate that the pet name makes you shiver. you hate how fast he seemingly submits to you.
a you take the tip of his cock into your mouth, he threads his fingers through your hair, guiding you along his length. you hollow your cheeks, sucking and bobbing your head up and down, relishing the taste of him on your tongue. "oh fuck, baby," he murmurs, his hips jerking involuntarily. "please don’t stop."
you hum in response, the vibrations sending him wild. heeseung tangles one hand in your hair, holding you in place as he begins to thrust slowly, fucking your mouth. you let him take control for a moment, enjoying the way he uses your mouth for his pleasure. you can tell he’s getting close, that he’s starting to feel like he’s the one controlling you right now.
but then, you grab his hips, pulling him out of your mouth with a loud pop.
heeseung opens his eyes, a questioning look on his face. you respond by grinding your clothed core against his hardness, eliciting a low groan from him. "i want to ride you," you whisper, your voice full with desire.
his face contorts into one of begging,. “please, need to feel your pussy so bad."
you don't need to be told twice. quickly shedding your clothes, you straddle his lap, lining him up with your entrance. slowly, you lower yourself onto his thickness, moaning as he stretches you deliciously. heeseung's hands grip your hips, guiding you as you bounce gently a few times to adjust to his size.
once you've taken all of him, you pause, relishing the feeling of being filled so completely. "fuck, heeseung, you feel so good inside me," you pant, leaning forward to press your breasts against his chest.
"you like that, baby?" he teases, his hands squeezing your ass. "you like my cock buried deep inside your tight pussy?"
you nod, biting your lip as you begin to move, rising and falling on his shaft. his hands slide up your back, tangling in your hair as he pulls you down for a hungry kiss. you moan into his mouth, your hips picking up the pace as you ride him with abandon.
suddenly, you pull away, rising up on your knees to give yourself more leverage. you remember what you were thinking when you came here. you remembered taking control of lee heeseung and proving to him that you can make him feel good. heeseung's eyes widen as he realizes your intent, but he says nothing, watching you with a mixture of arousal and curiosity. you lean forward, wrapping your hand around his neck, and begin to choke him, cutting off his air supply slightly as you ride his cock.
you can't believe how submissive he's being, allowing you to take control like this. it turns you on even more, and you find yourself bouncing faster, your core clenching rhythmically around his shaft. heeseung's eyes roll back slightly, and he moans, his hands tightening on your waist. the sight below you, with his cock hitting deep inside of you with your hand around his throat, makes you bounce harder, making him grunt, “fuck, baby, you're so tight. i'm not gonna last long."
a sense of pride courses through you at hearing him say that, but you have no intention of letting him finish just yet. slowing your movements, you grind your hips in circles, feeling the sensation of his cock rubbing against your sensitive walls. heeseung whimpers, his body thrashing beneath you as he tries to buck his hips up to chase his release.
"please, baby," he begs, his voice hoarse. "i need to cum. let me fuck you, please."
you grin down at him, loving the sight of the so called confident, cocky lee heeseung reduced to begging and submitting. but you're not ready to give up now.. "no," you taunt, bouncing harder on his cock. "who's in control here, heeseung? hmm?"
"you are, baby," he pants, his eyes glazed with lust. "but please, i need to be inside you when I cum."
hearing him say that sends a thrill through your body, and your pussy clenches tightly around him. but your knees are starting to ache from the constant bouncing, and your energy is beginning to falter. your bouncing gets sloppier and slower, his dick still hits your g spot.
heeseung realizes that you’re getting tired, and takes advantage by quickly flipping you onto your back, his cock staying lodged inside of you when he does. he pins your body to the bed before you can realize.
your hands fly to his shoulders for support now that he’s hovering over you. “hey!” you pout, at him, “i was riding you!”
heeseung chuckles, his hands gripping your thighs as he begins to thrust deeply into you. "i know you were, baby, and you did an amazing job. but now, let me take over. let me make you cum."
his words make you whimper as he sets a punishing pace, pounding into you relentlessly. you groan as your plan to dominate lee heeseung failed, but the way he’s fucking into you seemingly makes you even forget your plan in the first place
his hips slam against yours, his balls slapping against your sensitive flesh with each deep thrust. "fuck, heeseung," you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "harder!" you submit to him so easily, letting him do whatever he wants to you. it just feels so good.
heeseung grunts in response, but he fucks into you harder anyways. his cock slides in and out of your drenched pussy, the slick sounds of your sex filling the room. heeseung leans down, capturing one of your nipples with his mouth, tugging and sucking it between his teeth as he continues to pound into you.
you cry out, your back arching off the bed as pleasure courses through your body. "that's it, baby," he encourages, his breath hot against your skin. "cum for me. Let me feel that tight pussy clenching around my cock."
his words are your undoing, and you shatter around him, crying out his name as your body convulses with pleasure. your body felt so spent as he continued to pound into you through your orgasm.
the feeling of your walls clenching around him, your juices flowing out of you and around his cock, make heeseung cum soon after. he grunts out your name as he spills deep inside of you. his hips stuttering as he fills you with his release.
collapsing onto your chest, he peppers kisses along your collarbone as he catches his breath. you’re too busy coming down from your orgasm to tell him that that’s too intimate. so instead you revel in the feeling of his weight on top of you. your chests heaving as you catch your breath together.
heeseung gently pulls out of you and gets up. you watch as he leaves his bedroom, leaving you naked and sweating on his bed.
he comes back with a damp cloth from the bathroom. his bare back muscles flexing with each step. you can feel a subtle change in his bedroom now. it’s more softer and intimate. and it scares you.
you know the cloth is to clean up the mess between your legs so you reach your hand out for it, “thanks.”
but heeseung doesn’t give it to you, “it’s okay, i can do it. you’re tired, y/n. let me take care of it.”
you open your mouth to protest, to insist that you can do it yourself, but you realize that you are in fact exhausted. your knees ache from being on top.
heeseung leans down between your legs again. he gently starts to clean you, his touch is feather light. he hums gently to himself as he makes sure every substance is off your legs.
you’ve never let anyone clean you up after sex before. it’s always you that takes care of things afterward, alone. there’s something vulnerable and exposing letting someone else do this for you. but heeseung’s touch is so tender that you find yourself relaxing into it. you think that maybe it’s okay just once to let someone else take the lead.
once he’s done, he kisses your inner thigh, his lips brushing softly against your sensitive skin, and you suppress a shiver.
he hands you a soft t-shirt, helping you slide it over your head, his fingers grazing your skin gently. you inhale the fresh scent of the fabric. heeseung pulls on a pair of sweatpants that cling to his lean, muscular frame.
heeseung lies down beside you, his body warm against yours. its silent in his room and the lights are still on. you realize that you’ve never just laid in bed with a guy before without it leading to sex.
after a while, you break the silence. “i should go,” you say, starting to sit up.
heeseung sits up too, watching you, “you should stay. it’s late, and your knees hurt.”
you hesitate, but the truth is, you’re tired, and your knees really do ache from holding your body up. you nod, and lay back down. your heart thumping in your chest.
“okay,” you whisper.
heeseung smiles and turns off the lights, plunging the room into a soft darkness. you both lay there in his bed. a meter apart is between both of you. it’s silent and uncomfortable.
heeseung breaks the silence first. "you okay?"
you nod, even though he probably can't see you in the dark. "yeah, just... not used to this."
"used to what?" he asks, turning slightly to face you.
"this," you gesture vaguely around the room, "staying after."
he chuckles softly. "so, i'm your first?"
you scoff, rolling your eyes. "don't flatter yourself, heeseung."
"i'm serious," he says, and you can hear the genuine curiosity in his voice. "you've never stayed the night with anyone before?"
"no," you admit quietly, "i haven't."
both of you go silent again, thinking. you’re only wearing his t shirt and the thin sheet on his bed isn’t keeping much heat in. your legs shiver against the bed.
you feel heeseung move beside you, “come here.”
“what?”
“come here if you’re cold.”
you hesitate for a second before scooting closer to him. he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his chest. it’s warm and so much better for your half naked body. it’s intimate, and you try to keep your breath steady as you breathe in his cologne and fabric softener.
"better?" he asks, his voice a low rumble in your ear.
"yeah," you murmur, "better."
you lay there for a while, in his arms. you try to fall asleep, but it feels strange. and you keep debating if it’s a good strange or a bad strange. heeseung starts tracing lazy circles on your arm, and you find yourself relaxing.
"you know," he says softly, "you're not as tough as you pretend to be."
"oh, really?" you challenge.
"yeah," he replies, "you're actually kinda sweet."
you snort at his compliment because when have you ever been sweet to lee heeseung?
you close your eyes again. thinking more about heeseung and everything you know about him and everything he knows about you. the things he might’ve heard about you before you even met. and you think about how sweet he’s actually been to you.
"heeseung?" you say after a while.
"yeah?"
"thanks for letting me stay."
"anytime," he replies, his voice soft and sincere.
you feel his grip tighten slightly around you, like you might leave.
but even though there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you to run; you don’t. you stay in lee heeseung’s bed with his arms wrapped around you until you both feel your eyelids grow heavy and drift off to sleep for the night.
as you drift off, you realize that maybe, just maybe, there could be more than just casual hookups between you and lee heeseung.
when you and heeseung wake up the next day, the sunlight filtering through the blinds, you both groan at the early hour. heeseung stretches, his arm brushing against you as he yawns.
"we gotta get to class," he says, rubbing his eyes.
"yeah," you agree, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed.your knees feel better this morning.
heeseung gets up first, grabbing a t-shirt from his closet and slipping it on. "i can drive you home if you want," he offers casually.
"thanks," you say, standing and smoothing out your clothes. "i'll get changed."
heeseung nods and heads for the door. "i'll wait downstairs.”
you quickly change into your clothes from yesterday, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions from the night before. once you're dressed, you head down the hall towards the stairs, but stop when you hear your name.
when you and heeseung wake up the next day, the sunlight filtering through the blinds, you both groan at the early hour. heeseung stretches, his arm brushing against you as he yawns.
"we gotta get to class," he says, rubbing his eyes.
"yeah," you agree, sitting up and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. you feel a slight ache from how you slept, but it's not too bad.
heeseung gets up first, grabbing a t-shirt from his closet and slipping it on. "i can drive you home if you want," he offers casually.
"thanks," you say, standing and smoothing out your clothes. "i'll get changed."
heeseung nods and heads for the door. "i'll wait downstairs. take your time."
you quickly change into your clothes from yesterday, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions from the night before. once you're dressed, you head down the stairs, but stop when you hear your name.
"when did yn leave last night?" a boy's voice asks.
"uh, she didn't," you hear heeseung reply.
there are multiple gasps of confusion. "she slept over?"
"she's upstairs?"
"yeah, so what?" you hear heeseung say, a bit defensive.
"what's going on between you two?" someone asks.
"nothing-- we're just casual," heeseung responds.
his final response hurts you more than you expect. you don't even know why it stings so much, but it does. you take a deep breath before you walk down the stairs. in the kitchen you can see the group of frat boys who live there all gathered around. they look at you curiously.
heeseung smiles at you. "ready to go?"
you force a smile and shake your head. "nah, i'm just gonna walk, it's okay."
he starts to argue, but you cut him off. "bye," you say, turning and leaving quickly, closing the front door behind you.
as you walk home, a mix of confusion, hurt, and anger churns inside you. you wonder why he was so nice to you the night before. how he cleaned you up so intimately and made sure you were okay. you weren’t use to such niceness. you were usually the one to kick someone out after sex or leave before you do get kicked out. why did he let you stay if he thinks it’s just casual between you.
you remind yourself to be chill. there's nothing between you and lee heeseung.
but the feelings linger, refusing to be ignored.
days later and your professor ended your afternoon class early. you pull out your phone to ask yooyeon and gracie where they are. but you see a text from your mom instead.
mom : [your dad and i have broken up. please call me when you get the chance] [2:46]
your heart sinks, and you stop in your tracks, trying to hide the sudden wave of sadness and panic that washes over you. you quickly turn into a quiet hall. you don’t want anyone to see you like this. you curse your mom for picking such an awful time to tell you this.
you keep staring at her text, the words blurring as your eyes fill with tears. you knew they were having problems, knew they were talking about divorce, but you didn't think they'd actually do it. just as the first tear escapes and trails down your face, a voice speaks up, startling you.
“what’s wrong?”
you turn and see heeseung, his expression full of concern. you quickly wipe at your face, trying to pull yourself together. "everything's fine. see you later," you say, trying to walk away.
he stops you, gently taking your arm. "you're crying. what's wrong? you can tell me."
you sigh, not being able to process the new information yourself yet. you feel like you can’t think or speak straight. you hand him your phone, etting him read the message. his eyes scan the screen, and then he looks at you with understanding and sympathy. "i'm so sorry."
he pulls you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "it's going to be okay," he murmurs, his voice soothing. he kisses your forehead, and you pull away slightly, shocked.
"what if people see?" you ask, worried about the implications.
heeseung shakes his head. "who cares?" he says, pulling you back into his embrace.
you melt into his touch again, the confusion and hurt still there, but his presence brings a strange sense of comfort. why is he doing this? you can’t help but feel a little more at ease, even aw your mind races with questions and doubts.
“are your parents divorced?” you ask him as you pull away.
heeseung shakes his head, “nah, they’re coming to the house this weekend actually.” he pulls out his own phone and looks at the date.
“oh really?”
he shrugs, “yeah, they wanna see where i’m living this year and see the other guys.”
“oh,”
in the quiet hall it’s silent again and you have so much on your mind you forget to even speak until heeseung does again.
“want me to drive you home?”
you smile up at him, “please?”
he wraps his arm around your shoulder and guides you out of the school to his car where he can warm you up again.
heeseung texts you again to come over. something that’s been happening for weeks now. you’re at his house more often than not. and now, you don’t hesitate to go to the frat house you once hated.
heeseung meets you at the door, a lazy smile on his face as he knows exactly what the both of you are thinking. you step inside and the surroundings are now familiar to you. heeseung shuts the door, his eyes burning with desire as he takes a step towards you. without a word, he pulls you into his arms, and your bodies fit together perfectly, as if they were made to slot together just like this.
"i've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "want you so fucking bad, y/n."
you feel his hands roaming over your body, cupping your ass and pulling you against his growing erection. he's not shy about what he wants, and you love how forward he is. moaning softly, you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your neck as he plants eager kisses along your sensitive skin. his hands are everywhere, slipping under your shirt to touch your bare skin, making you ache for more.
"fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice thick with desire.
you pull back slightly, looking into his dark eyes, sparkling with lust. "then take me to your bedroom, hee."
“please, take her to your bedroom.” a voice says from inside the house.
you turn and see jake sitting on the couch, his eyes begging as he had to watch and hear the interaction between you and jake. you giggle out at his reaction– jake too– is something you’ve become familiar with during the past few weeks.
heeseung only smirks and takes your hand, leading you both towards the familiar path to his bedroom.
as soon as the bedroom door shuts behind you, heeseung is on you again, this time much more desperate.
he pushes you against the door, his mouth crashing onto yours in a hungry kiss. you respond eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss. he moans into your mouth, his tongue seeking yours, tasting and teasing until you're both breathless.
he breaks the kiss, trailing heated kisses along your jaw, down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. "want to taste you, baby. Want you to sit on my face."
you whimper at his words, feeling your core clench with need. heeseung kneels on the bed, his eyes burning with intensity as he watches you undress. slowly, you peel your shirt over your head, enjoying the way his eyes roam over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin. You kick off your shoes, wiggling out of your pants, and step out of your underwear. his eyes never leave you.
heeseung licks his lips, a hungry look in his eyes. "so fucking gorgeous, y/n."
you blush, but the heat in your core overrides any embarrassment.
once on the bed, he lets you take control, enjoying the show as you straddle his face, your pussy hovering over his waiting mouth.
"you gonna tease me again, baby?" he asks, his hot breath fanning your core, making you tremble.
you don't answer, instead, you lower yourself onto his mouth, moaning as his tongue swipes against your wet folds. he groans in appreciation, his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you closer, his tongue delving into your slit. he's eager, lapping at your juices, sucking on your clit, and making you see stars. you grind your hips, riding his face as he eats you out with enthusiasm.
"oh, fuck, heeseung!" you cry out, feeling your orgasm building already. "feels so good, baby!"
He doesn't hold back, using his tongue to bring you pleasure, licking and sucking until you're a quivering mess. You cry out his name as you climax, your juices flooding his mouth. He laps it all up, humming in satisfaction as he continues to lick you through your orgasm.
As the pleasure subsides, you collapse beside him, panting heavily. Heeseung, however, is not done. He kisses his way up your body, pausing to suck your sensitive nipples into his mouth, making you mewl with pleasure. His hands roam over your body, caressing your curves, molding your body to his.
"i need to be inside of you," he says, his breath hot against your ear.
You feel a rush of heat between your legs at his words. That possessive, needy side of him is what draws you in, what makes you ache for him. You nod slowly, your lips parting to speak, but no words come out.
instead, you turn over and and lean forward. you place your palms on the bed and push yourself up on your knees, exposing yourself to him.
heeseung's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of your round ass and your pussy, glistening with your juices. He reaches out, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
he teases your entrance, circling it lightly, making you whine and rock your hips unconsciously.
"you're so wet for me, y/n," he says, his voice like velvet. "are you ready for my cock?"
"please," you whisper, your voice thick with need. “need your cock, hee.”
with a growl, he grabs your hips and pulls you back, positioning his hard length at your entrance. you both moan as the tip teases your hole, then he slowly starts to push inside. You gasp as you feel yourself stretch around him, inch by incredible inch. heeseung's cock is thick and long, and you feel deliciously full as he bottoms out.
he doesn’t need to pause to let you adjust to his size anymore. you clench around him, your pussy gripping him tightly, and he groans, his head falling back. "fuck, y/n, you feel so tight. So fucking perfect. could stay like this forever."
he pulls your body back onto him, and then he begins to thrust. slow and deep at first, he sets a steady rhythm, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back into you. you cry out with each thrust, your body rocking back to meet his. his balls slap against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your core.
he leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot in your ear. "that's it, baby, take it all," he grunts, his voice strained as he picks up the pace. "your tight pussy was made for my cock, wasn't it?"
you moan, your head falling back as he thrusts into you. "fuck yes, heeseung, it was," you pant. "it was made just for you."
His hands squeeze your hips as he slams into you, his hips meeting your ass with a loud, satisfying smack. The force of his thrusts rocks your body forward, and you brace yourself, pushing back against him, meeting his fierce rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room you’ve memorized by now.
Heeseung's breath is ragged, his grunts of pleasure filling your ear. "You like that, baby? My cock pounding into your tight hole?"
"Yes! Harder, Heeseung! Fuck me harder!" you scream, your body on fire, desperate for release.
He obeys, gripping your hips so tightly you'll have bruises tomorrow. But you don't care, the pain only adds to the pleasure. He slams into you with such force the bed shakes, and you cry out, throwing your head back, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. You clamp down on his cock, milking him, your juices flowing as your body pulses with pleasure.
"Fuck, y/n, you're making me cum," he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he loses control.
You reach underneath yourself, your fingers finding your clit as he continues to thrust. You rub circles around it, riding out your orgasm as you crave for more. "Cum for me, Heeseung," you pant. "Fill me with your cum."
He growls, his body tenses, and then you feel it. His cock pulses and twitches as he releases, his warm cum shooting inside you. He groans your name, his hands grasping your hips tightly as he rides out his peak.
As his thrusts slow, he pulls you back against his chest, his arms wrapping around your body possessively. You can feel his heart pounding against your back, his breath still ragged as he recovers. it feels intimate with him. his cum deep inside of you while his cock softens, and he keeps you so close to him.
when both of you catch your breaths, heeseung falls into his new routine of cleaning you up and making sure you’re okay before he lays back down in bed beside you.
the routine is repetitive and comforting. you feel safe and cared for while your with heeseung. it’s something you’ve never felt with anyone before. and you especially never though you would feel this with lee heeseung.
but over the past few weeks that you’ve been hooking up with him, the more you’ve gotten to know him– the things he likes, hates, some personal things that he’s never told anyone before except for you.
you feel like heeseung has become someone you can rely on. he’s been there for you more than your friends have been recently. he’s there when you’re sad, frustrated, stressed and happy. you’ve seen more sides of him than you thought he even had during the weeks you’ve been tangled in his sheets with him.
you’re scared that you’ve started to catch feelings for lee heeseung.
the thought is almost too much for you. you instinctively stand up from his bed and start to pull on your clothes. heeseung stayed laying in his bed, his arm draped over his head on the pillow. he watched you start to dress silently.
“you know,” heeseung smirks playfully, “it’s so great you’re not clingy.”
you froze, looking back at him. "what do you mean?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. you hear a sense of sarcasm in his tone, his eyes hold a look of teasing.
heeseung shrugged casually. "you're not clingy like other girls. it's refreshing."
the words stung more than you'd care to admit. "yeah, sure," you replied, your tone colder than you intended. the thought of him being with other girls besides you makes you tense up. it reminds you of what you and heeseung really are. you are not in a relationship at all. he can freely hook up with other girls all he wants. he’s not yours.
heeseung seemed to take your response lightly. "i mean, no drama, no expectations. it's perfect, right?"
something in you snapped. "perfect?" you echoed, you turn to face him, standing in only your panties and t shirt, pants in your hand. "is that all you see this as? some drama-free convenience?"
heeseung frowned, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in tone. he sits up in his bed when he answers, "what's with you? you're overthinking this."
you scoffed, feeling your frustration boil over. "i'm not overthinking anything. i'm just... i don't know, expecting a little more respect maybe?"
heeseung rolled his eyes dismissively which only fueled your anger. "oh, come on. don't be like that. we agreed this was casual, no strings attached."
"yeah, we did," you snapped, grabbing your bag. "but that doesn't mean you get to treat me like i'm some disposable... i don't know, thing!"
heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i'm just joking, okay? you're taking it too seriously."
"just joking?" you repeated, your voice rising. "god, you really don't get it, do you? i'm not asking for much, just a little acknowledgment that I'm a person with feelings."
heeseung stands up, his own annoyance beginning to show. "look, if you want to end this, just say so."
you stared at him, hurt and anger mixing into a painful lump in your throat. "maybe I do," you said, heading for the door. "maybe I don't want to be just another convenient hookup for you."
you hear him try to stop you by calling your name, but your hand was on the door knob and pulling it open.
only then, you freeze in place. standing in the hallway were two older adults, looking at you with curious expressions.
“oh, hello,” the woman said, her eyebrows raising slightly.
you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “um, hi,” you stammered, glancing back at heeseung, who was now standing behind you, only in his boxers and you with your pants in your hand.
“heeseung?” the man, presumably his father, spoke, looking over your shoulder at his son. “is this your friend?”
before you could say anything, heeseung stepped forward, putting his arm around your shoulders. “yeah, this is yn,” he said smoothly. “mom, dad, this is my girlfriend.”
you blinked in surprise, looking up at him with wide eyes. girlfriend?
“nice to meet you,” his mom said, smiling warmly. “we’ll just wait downstairs while you two… get dressed.”
they turned and walked back down the stairs, leaving you standing in the doorway, stunned. you closed the door and whirled around to face heeseung. you were embarrassed, frustrated, angry and confused.
“what the hell was that?” you hissed, trying to keep your voice down.
heeseung shrugged, looking a bit sheepish. “they always want me to have a girlfriend. and you were in my bedroom, so… just play it cool, okay?”
“play it cool?” you echoed, groaning in frustration. “this is so not cool, heeseung.”
he raised his hands defensively. “look, it’s just for now. they won’t stay long. just go with it, please?”
you sighed, rubbing your temples. this was the last thing you needed right now, but you were stuck. “fine,” you muttered. “but you owe me for this.”
once you and heeseung were dressed, you made your way downstairs. his parents were waiting in the living room, and they both stood up when you entered. you could tell they were slightly disgruntled from the mess that was in the frat kitchen. but what could they really expect from five frat boys living together?
“it’s so nice to meet you properly,” his mom said, pulling you into a warm hug. you stiffened slightly, not used to this kind of affection from someone else’s parents. his dad followed suit, giving you a firm handshake.
“how long have you two been dating?” his dad asked, looking between you and heeseung.
“only a few months,” heeseung answered smoothly.
“are you in college as well?” his mom inquired.
you nodded. “yes, i am.”
heeseung glanced at his phone and then at his parents. “actually, yn has to get to class soon anyway.”
“it was lovely meeting you, yn,” his mom said with a warm smile. “we’d love for you to join us at our beach house this summer. heeseung always has a great time there, and we’d be delighted for you to meet the rest of the family.”
you glanced at heeseung, who raised his eyebrows, silently urging you to play along. “yeah, sure,” you said, forcing a smile. “it was so nice meeting you both.”
you made your way to the door, feeling the weight of the situation settle in. as you stepped outside, your thoughts swirled with confusion. what was happening between you and heeseung?
his words and reminders of your no strings attached deal shouldn’t bother you; but they did. and the fact that you were here, meeting his parents and getting wrapped up in his family plans, only made things more complicated.you knew deep down that you wouldn’t be hurt by his words if you weren’t catching feelings for him. you realize that for once, you were the one breaking the no-strings-attached deal.
you were sitting in your dorm room with gracie and yooyeon, the three of you sprawled out on the floor with snacks and textbooks scattered around. you needed to be with your friends after the morning you had meeting heeseung parents.
“so, how’s heeseung?” yooyeon asks you over her biology textbook. it’s like she could read your mind.
“he’s uh, good.” you reply, your eyes not leaving your notes.
“are you still hooking up with him?” gracie tilts her head to look at you. you nod in response hesitantly, because after today you weren’t sure if you were. “what’s wrong? i can tell you’re upset.”
you sigh and put your papers down, looking at your friends. their faces are etched in concern as they look at you. they know you so well.
“well uh, i think i’m catching feelings for heeseung,” you admitted, glancing down at your hands. you find it hard to look at them as you tell them the secret you’ve been hiding from them.
gracie immediately frowned. “yn, he’s a loser. he doesn’t deserve a great girl like you.”
yooyeon nodded in agreement. “seriously, you can do so much better.”
you groan and cover your face with your hands. you throw your head back so it rests on the backside of the couch. “i know, i know. but, sometimes he can be… sweet. but then today we fought, and he just- i don’t know. he doesn’t have feelings for me and it hurts.”
just then, your phone rang, interrupting the conversation. gracie’s eyes widened. “is that heeseung, now?”
you looked at the caller id and nodded. “yeah, it’s him.”
“well, don’t answer it,” yooyeon said firmly. “he doesn’t deserve your time.”
you sighed, feeling a pang of guilt as you put the phone down without answering it. the ringtone stopped, leaving an awkward silence in the room.
“i know you have feelings for him,” gracie said gently, “but you deserve someone who feels the same way about you.”
yooyeon added, “you’re worth more than some guy who only wants sex.”
you forced a smile, trying to push away the lingering disappointment. “thanks, guys. you’re right.”
you sat back and tried to enjoy the night with your friends, but your mind kept drifting back to heeseung. despite your best efforts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than what he was showing you. that maybe in another universe lee heeseung could like you back.
the next night, you lay in bed, you’d skip the entire day of classes. you’d told gracie and yooyeon you were sick, but you knew they saw through the lie. your mind was a tangled mess of thoughts and feelings for heeseung. you couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet he was with you, how he took care of you, listened to you, and comforted you. he made you laugh when you were sad, and that meant more than you ever wanted to admit.
suddenly, your phone buzzed with a new text message. it was from heeseung.
heeseung: [i'm sorry about yesterday] [9:38] heeseung: [but i really need you] [9:38] heeseung: [i'm so hard right now] [9:39] heeseung: [i keep thinking of your pussy] [9:39]
you stared at the message, your heart racing. memories of your conversation with gracie and yooyeon the day before played in your mind. they were right, heeseung was a player, and you knew you shouldn’t be getting so attached. but despite knowing this, your heart ached for him.
after a moment of hesitation, you sighed and typed out a response.
yn: [i’ll be there in 30] [9:42]
as you hit send, you tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest, telling yourself it was just casual. but deep down, you knew it was more than that for you. you threw on some clothes, grabbed your bag, and headed out, trying to convince yourself that you were making the right choice.
you show up at heeseung’s house, and he lets you in, leading you up to his room. unlike all the other times, it feels awkward. the usual comfort and ease between you two is missing, replaced by a tension that is seemingly suffocating.
heeseung closes the door behind you, and you both stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do or say. finally, he breaks the silence.
“i’m sorry about yesterday,” heeseung says, his voice low. “i was just trying to joke because you got up from the bed so fast. i didn’t know how to respond. you were leaving so quick.”
you nod, understanding but still feeling a bit hurt. “i get it. it just... caught me off guard, that’s all.”
he continues, “and thanks for pretending with my parents. i just, always disappoint them, and i didn’t want to this time. i knew they’d love you.”
you smile shyly, feeling a mix of emotions. heeseung steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. his touch is warm, and you find yourself leaning into him despite everything.
“come on, smile for me,” heeseung says softly, trying to lighten the mood. his eyes search yours, and he leans in, and you let him. you let him press his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. a kiss that shouldn’t be done between two people who have a no strings attached agreement.
the kiss is tender, different from all the others. it feels like he’s pouring all his unspoken words and feelings into it. you melt into his embrace, the awkwardness slowly fading away. for a moment, everything feels right again.
"i need you," he murmurs, his eyes searching yours as he pulls back slightly.
you lean in and capture his lips in another kiss, pouring all your feeling into it, wanting him to know without a doubt how much he affects you. heeseung's hands roamed your body, caressing your curves with a tenderness that made your heart melt.
as you kisses grew more heated, you realized how badly you wanted him now. you needed to fele him inside of you. you let him push you down onto his bed. neither of you talk as you both rush to get undressed. ripping off your clothes and throwing them onto his floor into one big messy pile.
without even thinking, you turn onto your knees. you know heeseung loves fucking you from the back by now. he’s told you over and over again how it’s his favourite position. it allowed him to take control and watch his cock slide in and out of your wet pussy.
heeseung’s hands wrapped around your hips, you could feel him lean down and press a soft kiss onto your back, “can i fuck you in missionary? i wanna see your beautiful face.” his compliment makes your cheeks turn red, but you let him turn you over so your head is in his pillow.
heeseung positioned himself above you. your legs on either side of his waist as he guided his hard length to your entrance. you gasped as he slowly sank into you, his eyes never leaving yours. the expression on his face was one of pure adoration that made your heart skip.
heeseung’s hands gripped your thighs, holding onto you as he thrusted into you. “you feel so fucking good," he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before snapping back open to look at you. "i love watching my cock disappear inside that tight pussy."
you moaned at his words, your head falling back as pleasure washed over you. but you quickly brought your gaze back to his, wanting to drink in the sight of him losing control. his eyes were dark with desire, his usually cocky smile softened by a look of raw need.
heeseung’s eyes don’t leave you. his hands trail down your stomach, “god you’re so beautiful- so soft.”
you whine in response, loving how gentle he was being with you. it was different from all the other times you’ve had sex. it was slow, and passionate.
his fingers reach down where your bodies are meeting and starts to rub slow circles on your clit, making you cry out.
heeseung leans over your body and presses his lips onto yours. the kiss isn’t sloppy and wet like his usual kisses during sex. it’s full of something that you aren’t sure of. it’s sweet and gentle.
his cock continues to thrust into you, filling you up. the intimacy between you makes the coil in your stomach start to unwind quicker than ever. it all feels so close and almost, loving.
“heeseung,” you whimper out against his lips.
his eyes flew open, locking with yours as you continued to move together in perfect sync. you could see the passion and intensity in his gaze, and you felt yourself falling even deeper.
"cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice hoarse with longing. "let me feel you tighten around me."
your breath hitched as you felt your orgasm building. heeseung quickened his pace slight. your hips starting to move to meet his as you both chased the release that was so close.
"that's it, baby," he encouraged, his eyes never leaving yours. "cum for me. let go."
with a cry, you surrendered to the pleasure, your body shaking as you fell over the edge. heeseung followed soon after, his eyes rolling back in his head as he filled you with his release. cumming together even felt more intimate this time.
heeseung pulls out of you and moves to lay beside you. both of you are catching your breaths. it feels overwhelming for you. his touches are gentle as he traces his fingers down your arm. he’s pressing soft, lingering kisses into your shoulder. this doesn’t feel like something casual; it feels like love, like a relationship. a relationship that you suddenly realize you want. but you know heeseung doesn't want the same, and that realization hits you like a ton of bricks.
you feel like you have no other option than to jump out of his bed. to get away from him. you start trying to get dressed quickly, but tears start to fall, blurring your vision. your breaths are hitched as you try to grab your clothes.
behind you, heeseung sits up, concern etched on his face.
“what’s wrong?” heeseung asks, but you ignore him, the emotions are too raw and painful. “please, tell me,” he continued to pry, his voice breaking with worry.
you start to head for the door. your heart and head telling you two opposite things. but when you reach the handle, heeseung has already stood up and grabbed your arm. he spins you around so your body is pressed between him and his door. he’s pulling you close to him so you’re forced to look at him through your tears. “did i hurt you, baby? i didn’t mean to if i did, you couldn’t told me to stop, i-”
you dryly laugh, because his concern that he may have physically hurt you makes you fall for him harder. he’s too gentle with you, too sweet.
“no, you didn’t,” you say, choking on your tears.
“then why are you crying? tell me, baby,” heeseung pleads, his eyes searching yours.
you take a shaky breath, finally letting the words tumble out. “because i want more than this, heeseung. i want a relationship. i want you.” he stays silent as he stares at you, “but i know, we made a no strings attached deal. so i understand that we don’t want the same thing anymore.”
heeseung’s eyes widen in surprise, and he gently sits you back down on the bed. he wipes your tears away, his touch tender and comforting. part of you wants to melt into his touch, and the other part is screaming at you to leave.
“yn, i’ve loved you since i met you at that very first party,” he confesses, his voice soft but sure. “i didn’t think you’d ever feel the same about me. i mean, i had heard so many times that you’re only into casual sex, so i didn’t think i’d have a shot.”
you look at him, your heart swelling with relief and joy. “really?”
“really,” he says, smiling. “i was an idiot for not telling you sooner.”
you laugh through your tears, “we were both idiots.”
heeseung leans in, and you both share a sweet, deep kiss. the first kiss that doesn’t have any hidden intentions. both of your true feelings were out in the open, allowing you to feel them in this kiss.
heeseung pulls back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “so, does this mean i can call you my girlfriend now?”
you laugh, playfully shoving him. “shut up, heeseung.”
he grins, pulling you into another kiss.
the sun was setting over the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the beach. you, gracie, and yooyeon are lounging on beach chairs outside heeseung’s family beach house. the soft sound of cicadas from the day were quieting out.
gracie sips her drink and looks over at you with a teasing smile. “why didn’t become casual with heeseung sooner, yn?”
yooyeon nods in agreement. “yeah, we could’ve been spending our summers here all along. this place is amazing.”
you laugh, “because he was the “walking std” remember?” gracie and yooyeon laugh and clink their drinks together before drinking from them.
as you’re laughing at them for celebrating your relationship, you feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind, and you squeal in surprise as heeseung kisses the side of your neck.
“well i guess you were right,” heeseung says in your ear.
“about what?” you question him as you look upwards.
“being casual with me wouldn’t work out.”
everyone bursts into laughter. you lean into heeseung’s embrace as he sits down beside you, feeling his warmth and comfort that have become so familiar to you.
“yeah, i think we figured that out,” you say, smiling up at him.
heeseung kisses you again, and you close your eyes, savoring the moment. surrounded by your friends and the boy you love, everything feels perfect.
you love being in a relationship.
you’ve realized the finding someone special, who makes your heart race and brings joy to your life is easier than pushing everyone away. you’ve learnt to find comfort in the depth and connection that comes with a committed relationship. there’s something beautiful about sharing your life, dreams, and fears with someone who truly cares. you no longer want any fleeting encounters with no meaning.
and you’re happy that you’ve found that with lee heeseung (even if he is kind of annoying).
@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.
PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)
stay safe everyone :)
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pairing: non idol! jake x fem! reader
synopsis: jake is very well known and loved by everybody on campus. equally popular was his relationship with the captain of the volleyball team, haneul. even more popular, sadly, is his breakup after more than a year. the months following the event take a significant toll on jake, who becomes unrecognizable. his once sweet, friendly and pure nature is replaced by a constant gloomy and somber aura. what happens when this new version of jake sim unexpectedly clashes with a very straightforward and quite intimidating member of the school’s podcast?
genre: acquaintances to friends to lovers , college au , slowburn-ish , fluff , a bit of angst , healing , comfort - wc: 9.3k - warnings: swearing , mention of alcohol , violence (fighting) , cheating (not the main leads) , toxic relationship (not the main leads) , kissing , ft. enhypen (they are all the same age here) , lowercase intended ! , english is not my first language ! , this is a work of fiction and doesn’t reflect the idols in real life ! - author’s notes: i wanted to try and make something longer, i hope you’ll enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! ++ i’m sorry but i absolutely am terrible at writing kissing/intimate scenes. i’m warning you in advance!
────
JAKE SIM IS KNOWN FOR BEING THE NICEST AND SWEETEST BOY ON CAMPUS.
jake sim is known for being one of the most handsome boys on campus.
jake sim is known for being part of the football team, but also for not being a jock, not even in the slightest.
jake sim is known for having dated the captain of the volleyball team, haneul, for more than a year.
but jake sim is mainly known for being cheated on by said girl.
ever since his messy breakup, nothing has been the same. he hasn’t been the same. he doesn’t even remember the last time he genuinely wanted to do something and didn’t have to be dragged out of his dorm room by his friends.
well, at least he still has them.
heeseung, jay and sunghoon are his childhood best friends, they literally grew up together and lived every experience together. even each other’s heartbreaks. they’re great guys, they’ve always been there for jake and he can’t ever complain about them, not even when they start being too insistent on his worst days. at the end of the day, they’re only trying to help. they don’t say it out loud, they never did, but they’re deeply concerned about their best friend.
the breakup took a pretty heavy toll on jake and they slowly had to witness their lively, sweet and considerate friend turn into a gloomy, unenthusiastic and weary guy. he would barely talk, nothing seemed to excite him, not even his biggest passions. that’s why he also quit the football team, even though he was probably the best player. he would spend all his free time locked in his room and he would leave the house exclusively to attend his lessons.
some people may think that this reaction is exaggerated, that he shouldn’t lose himself because of a girl, because of love. but nobody, except for his best friends, knows the real dynamics of the event. what people know and like to talk about in the hallways is that poor jake sim was cheated on by the smoking hot captain of the volleyball team. to be honest, many people used to question why they were even dating in the first place and weren’t surprised when the relationship ended the way it did. i mean, they certainly were a match visually, they are both amongst the most stunning students on campus. but their respective reputations are what made people question their relationship.
jake was known for being one of the best football players on the team, but the total opposite of your typical jock. the same couldn’t be said about haneul. it’s not that she was a player, she was just still stuck on his ex boyfriend, with whom she had always had a sort of an on and off situationship ever since their breakup. but after meeting jake, it looked like she was finally getting over her ex. she hadn’t met him again and she really seemed like she was seriously in love again.
but appearances can be deceiving. and jake was too blinded by love to notice haneul slowly slipping away from him and silently going back to her old habits.
────
“I’M SCREWED.”
you dramatically grumbled as you plopped down in the chair of one of the cafeteria’s tables, your friends already seated.
“what happened now?” jungwon asked, trying to sound concerned, but being betrayed by the amused glint in his cat-like eyes.
“did you make another freshman run away in fear?” teased sunoo.
“or did the principal admonish you again for what you said in the podcast?” suggested ni-ki.
“i really need new friends.” you muttered under your breath.
“okay, okay. sorry. tell us what’s wrong.” jungwon was quick to turn serious, the last thing he wanted was to annoy you even more.
“okay, so. you know yeji, right?” you started.
“the president of your podcast?” sunoo interjected.
“didn’t she leave for her exchange year in europe?” added ni-ki.
“exactly. well, as the substitute president of the podcast, i am in charge of pretty much everything now. and the biggest issue at the moment is to find a new speaker. i was supposed to do it during summer break, but i completely forgot. so now i’m screwed because i have the first meeting with the others in two days and i absolutely have to find someone by then.”
“okay, this could be a problem..” sunoo whispered, making you groan in desperation.
“okay, okay. we can fix this.” jungwon was quick to butt in. “first of all, do you have someone specific in mind? like, a certain kind of person that you think could fit for the role?”
“i mean, i really wanted to find someone really suited for it. but now, i think i’ll just have to settle for whoever i find. and i need to do it quickly.” you grumbled again, annoyed at yourself for having completely forgotten such an important task.
“i think you could still find someone good enough. you could maybe ask someone who knows a lot of people?” sunoo added.
“why don’t you ask heeseung? he’s popular and knows basically half of the students on campus.” suggested ni-ki.
“oh my god! you’re right!” you jumped up, quickly scanning the cafeteria in search of a very familiar face.
“found him! thank you so much, see you guys later.” and then you scurried to the other side of the room, where heeseung was sitting with his usual friends. park jongseong was the first one to see you and immediately knew that something was up.
“why is ___ literally dashing towards us?” he uncertainly asked.
“huh?” heeseung confusedly turned around in his seat and caught sight of your hurried figure. “oh, i think something’s wrong then.”
“yeah, she usually never approaches us.” sunghoon added.
“except for that one time she smacked heeseung across the head because he forgot to pick her up in the morning.” jay quietly snickered, earning a side eye from the boy in question.
“that appended once—“
but your distressed figure sliding in the seat next to jake’s immediately interrupted their playful banter.
“hee—“ you then stopped yourself and acknowledged the boys seated at the table. “oh, right. hi! sorry, guys. i’ll be super quick.”
“what did you do this time?” heeseung rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed, although everybody at the table perfectly knew he had a soft spot for you and always acted like your real brother.
“shut up! this is serious! i’m screwed, my reputation is at stake here! i’m going to fail and they’re going to tell her and she’ll personally come back from paris or london or whatever city she’s in just to look me dead in the eyes and tell me, ‘you are a fucking idiot’. i’m screwed, seung!” you dramatically started to ramble, heeseung and his best friends just weirdly staring at you, but with a hint of amusement in their eyes.
you, jay, jake and sunghoon could be considered acquaintances, you would briefly talk on sporadic occasions like that one. they also knew you because of the podcast and your reputation on campus. the two things were actually quite connected together. people would see you as this straightforward, strong, intimidating girl who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. and not only during the school’s podcast.
“slow down, tiger. what the hell are you talking about?”
“so, you know that i’m the new president of the podcast until yeji comes back.. right?” you narrowed your eyes at him, to which he vigorously nodded his head.
“good. well, now we fall short of one speaker. and i might have been the one in charge of finding another one. during summer break. but i completely forgot. and now the meeting for the podcast is in two days and i absolutely have no one in mind!” you hopelessly banged your head on the table’s surface.
heeseung reached forward and softly patted your head, making you groan in frustration.
“don’t show affection, i’ll feel worse.” you swatted his hand away, making him scoff.
“why don’t you just ask someone random? like the first person you see in the hallway or in your class that looks even vaguely capable?” suggested jay.
“that’s exactly the last thing i want to do.” you deadpanned.
“yeah, that’s not going to work. she’s too much of a perfectionist to just settle for that.” your friend explained.
“i wanted to find someone who could fit for the task properly, i don’t want just anybody. but now i don’t have enough time and i really have to listen to jongseong’s terrible advice.”
the last part made his friends laugh amused, even jake cracked a little smile and it didn’t pass unnoticed by anybody at the table. not even you. of course you knew sim jaeyun. and of course you had heard the voices that circulated about him.
“jongseong? not even ‘jay’? wow, you must really hate me.” jay scoffed in disbelief.
“well, does it make any difference? we’re barely acquaintances anyways.” you reasoned.
“fair enough.” he mumbled, you were right after all.
“so, why are you telling us this?” heeseung butted in.
“because you know a lot of people. and maybe among these many people you know someone who can be a decent enough speaker?” you explained, slowly darting your eyes to each one of them with a hopeful and persuasive expression on your face.
“sorry, i only know figure skaters, but they won’t have free time to record it.” sunghoon was the first one to turn you down, followed by the others.
only jake still hadn’t answered you, so you slowly turned to him with an overexaggerated sweet smile on your face, making him grimace.
“ah, don’t look at me. i don’t know anyone who could help you.” he shook his head, making you groan in defeat.
“wait.. why don’t you do it?” your friend suddenly proposed, looking directly at the boy seated next to you.
“no way, man. are you crazy?” he immediately refused, pure terror written on his features.
“why not? you have a lot of free time now, trying something new could do you good.” jay tried to reason too, but the sim boy seemed hard to convince.
“that’s not a good idea—“
“don’t worry, i’ll manage to find someone. thanks anyways.” you sent them a quick and tight-lipped smile as you stood up. that was clearly turning into a personal conversation and you thought it felt wrong to listen to it.
as soon as you were out of earshot, the boys swiftly turned towards jake with pointed expressions.
“what?” he exclaimed, exasperated.
“i was serious, jake.” started jay. “why don’t you give it a shot?”
“and talk about what? seriously, i’m not in the right mental space to commit to something like that.”
“that’s exactly the reason why you should do it!” sunghoon exclaimed, almost fed up by his friend’s stubbornness.
“also, i think ___’s influence could do you good. i’m positive she would be able to really challenge you and maybe bring out something that’s stuck deep inside of you.” heeseung honestly added.
“something like what?” jake furrowed his eyebrows, not fully understanding what his friend was hinting at.
“passion, determination, purpose.”
“and maybe the old you.” whispered jay, but not low enough.
“the old me is dead. live with it.” jake suddenly snapped, standing up.
his friends let out heavy breaths as they silently watched him quickly maneuver his way out of the cafeteria.
on the opposite side of the room, you had sat down back with your friends and explained your failed attempt to the guys. by chance, you had looked around and caught the exact moment in which jake lost his temper and decided to flee from whatever conversation he was having with the others. you had never admitted it to anybody, not even yourself, but there was something about jake’s situation that made you unable to overlook it.
you weren’t one to meddle in other people’s business and you couldn’t stand gossip. but when it came to jake sim, something seemed to pull at your heartstrings every single time. maybe it was because you would see the pain and worry hidden behind heeseung’s eyes every time he would briefly mention him in a conversation. or maybe it was because, even if you didn’t personally know jake and had never had a proper conversation with him, you still had witnessed his radical change in personality, just like everyone else.
────
JAKE DIDN’T ATTEND ANY LESSONS FOR THE REST OF THE DAY.
his mind was too busy relentlessly replaying the conversation had during lunch break. he started pondering over that suggestion, thinking if he could really fit for the role and if it could really help him. it’s not that he didn’t want to change, to go back to his old ways, to feel alive again. it’s just that he was scared. in the past months, he had kind of found comfort in his pain and he had learnt to live in his own misery. thinking about change and going out of his comfort zone immediately caused the now all too familiar feeling of uneasiness to take control over him.
he was now quietly sitting on the bleachers of the football field, the place that held so many memories, the place where he had always felt fearless, invincible, free. where he had just always felt himself. it was still his safe space. as hard as it was to admit it, he regretted quitting the team every single day, but at the same time he still couldn’t find enough strength in himself to go back to it, to his biggest passion. so he would go there when he needed time alone to think or to simply relish the calmness of the usually not so quiet place while everyone else was having lessons.
suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a figure running laps in the football field, making him furrow his eyebrows. but his expression quickly morphed into one of surprise upon recognizing your face.
why were you running laps? were you skipping your lessons, too? were you perhaps trying to escape reality like he was doing?
your eyes met for a split second, in which he noticed a flash of recognition in your gaze, too. then you kept going and he kept sitting there, deep in his thoughts once again.
the next time you saw each other was that same evening, at the convenience store near the dorms. you were already patiently waiting for your turn at the cash register when he got in line right behind you. then you turned around and accidentally made eye contact with him.
“oh, hi.” you awkwardly greeted him.
“hello.” he greeted back, equally uncomfortable.
it was just a bit weird seeing each other for the third time that day, but not being close at all. especially because you would usually never cross paths, let alone multiple times in less than 24 hours. that was really unusual.
when it was finally your turn to pay, you discovered that you had stupidly forgotten your wallet at the dorm, and you started to mentally curs yourself for the embarrassment you were enduring. but before you could dig the deepest hole on the ground, right there in front of everyone, and disappear from the face of the earth, a sudden voice coming from your left brought you back to reality.
“it’s okay, add my stuff as well. i’ll pay for the both of us.” he told the cashier, swiftly standing right next to you to divide the items into two plastic bags.
“what? wait, you don’t have to—“ you tried to protest, but to no use.
“it’s really not a big deal, ___.” he quickly gazed at you and shrugged his shoulders unbothered while paying.
once outside, you kept thanking him and asking him how you could repay him, but he only kept dismissing all your attempts.
“i saw you today, at the field.” he decided to change the subject instead.
“yeah, i saw you too.” you replied a bit hesitantly, not sure why he was bringing that up.
“do you run often?”
“do you sit there often?” you fired back. he was clearly taken aback by that defensive answer.
“only when i need to be alone with my thoughts.” he honestly answered, surprising you.
“well, it’s the opposite for me. i try to run away from them.” you had no idea how you had ended up opening up to an almost stranger, it must have been the time, but nevertheless it almost felt right, the initial awkwardness now a distant memory.
“still worried for the podcast?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested.
“yeah.” you let out a heavy sight. “i can’t believe i forgot the most important thing.” you started rumbling mostly to yourself.
“what if i really joined it?” his mouth spoke quicker than his mind could process it, startling not only you, but himself as well.
“what? why? are you saying this just out of pity? weren’t you completely against the idea of it just this morning?” you furrowed your eyebrows, something seemed off to you.
“i don’t know, i was really thinking about it today. maybe my friends are right.” he shrugged. “you’re not convinced.” he stated right after seeing your doubtful expression.
“would you even be truly interested in it?” you pried further with a slight tone of skepticism.
“why not? could be fun. but i clearly see you don’t want me to do it.” he crossed his arms, almost as if he was trying to challenge you.
and he was starting to piss you off.
“change my mind then.” you mocked his gesture, raising an eyebrow without even trying to hide your growing annoyance.
“i regularly listen to the podcast. and i have a lot of free time since i’m not on the football team anymore.” he confidently replied.
“how long have you been listening to the podcast?” you fired back once again, it really was beginning to sound like an interrogation and he couldn’t help but feel amused by your seriousness.
you clearly weren’t playing.
but that specific question suddenly made jake remember a not so little detail, hence why you were able to notice a faint change in his expression, a glimpse of something deeper, painful maybe.
“since my.. uh.. ex-girlfriend introduced me to it. so for almost two years now.” at the mere mention of the girl, he quickly averted his gaze to the ground, feeling oddly exposed.
it’s like he could already hear all the whispered gossip about his breakup over and over again. and he couldn’t stand it anymore. for a moment there, he thought he was going to hear them again, but from you.
“that’s even more than me, i only joined this year.” you muttered, hating the idea that he might be right.
you didn’t even acknowledge the first part of the reply and you knew for a fact that he was grateful for that. sure, he was starting to get on your nerves with that challenging and almost mocking attitude, and you could have easily let out one of your harsh comebacks. at the end of the day, that’s what people knew you for. you were the girl with the sharp tongue, the one people should be wary of and careful not to get on her bad side. but you weren’t heartless and you had empathy, something that all those people clearly lacked, since they would easily talk about other people’s business like they were discussing the weather, even the most private and delicate matters.
“and since then you’ve always been my favorite, you know?” he added, a smug look on his face as soon as he realized he might be winning that improvised debate.
“are you trying to get into my good graces?” you scoffed, raising an eyebrow.
“what? no, i’m serious.” he immediately denied, looking almost offended. “i’ve always liked how straightforward you are and i admire the way you word things. like, it’s so clear and captivating, it always makes me want to listen so attentively to anything you say.”
since when was he so straightforward and honest?
“oh.” you murmured, trying to hide your flustered self, but it was all in vain, jake had already noticed it and thankfully decided not to comment on it.
“well..” you cleared your throat before continuing. “thank you, jake. it seems you have a good way with words, too.” you painfully let out.
he was so winning.
“so, did i change your mind?” he teased, slightly leaning in, waiting for an answer. you scoffed, rolling your eyes and poking a finger at his chest.
“maybe.” you lightly pushed him away. “i’ll let you know. and if i don’t, then it means i didn’t choose you. now, good night.”
you were already a few steps ahead, when his voice suddenly caused you to stop in your tracks.
“wait! you don’t have my number.” he pondered out loud.
“don’t need to. i’ll find you.”
those were the last words you spoke to him and the ones he somehow kept replaying in his head for the rest of the night.
────
YOU FOUND HIM AGAIN BY THE FOOTBALL FIELD A FEW DAYS LATER.
he was surprised to see you approaching him, to be honest, he had quickly given up on you, thinking you were just messing with him and wouldn’t really choose him.
well, he was wrong.
you sat yourself down next to him on the metal bench and looked at him straight in the eyes. that fierce eye contact made him shiver.
“congratulations, jake. you are officially part of the podcast.” you monotonously let him know.
“are you serious?” he widened his eyes.
“i’m not repeating myself.” you narrowed your eyes at him, making him scoff.
“well, thank you.” he genuinely smiled at you.
it was probably the first time in a long time seeing him smile like that again and your breath almost got stuck in your throat. he looked so different while doing so, he looked even better, more handsome.
wait, what the hell were you even saying?
“___? are you okay?” jake hesitantly waved a hand in front of your eyes, bringing you back to reality.
“oh.. yeah. uhm.. anyways.” you cleared your throat, flustered by the fact that you were staring at him while lost in your thoughts. “i need your schedule, so that i can adapt it with the ones of everyone else’s and make a plan for this year’s meetings and recordings.” you started explaining.
“sure. if you give me your number, i’ll send it to you. it’s easier that way.” he proposed.
you scoffed and narrowed your eyes at him.
“nice try. but as i’ve told you before, i’ll find you. just be ready with a copy of it.”
as you bid goodbye, and then throughout the rest of the day, you somehow couldn’t help but replay jake’s sweet and genuine smile over and over again.
he looked so warm, so like himself. his old self.
────
THE FIRST MEETING OF THE SCHOOL’S PODCAST HAD JUST ENDED.
you had introduced jake to all the members and explained to him all he needed to know. then you started to brainstorm a few ideas for some episodes and you had to admit, the ideas that he came up with were not so bad.
throughout the meeting, you found yourself paying a little extra attention to jake. you just wanted to make sure he wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable in the new environment. by observing him, you noticed how he was very serious and collected while attentively listening to everything that was being said. it almost looked like he was absorbing every single information. but you had no idea if he was enjoying it so far. that’s why you decided to stop him while everyone else was leaving.
“so, what do you think?”
“i like it so far, it seems very interesting.” he drily replied.
that was another thing you clearly noticed that day. he looked like he was avoiding you, which was weird, because you weren’t even friends. so that’s why you tried not to look too much into his behavior, assuming you were probably just overthinking and overanalyzing trivial details. but the answer he just gave you, with that cold tone and without even looking you in the eyes, made you instantly reconsider everything.
“good.” you nodded, stoically, matching his tone and energy.
“good.” he nodded back. “then i’m off. see you next time.” he murmured and left the room in no time.
“yeah.. see you.” you muttered to yourself.
the two of you didn’t speak again until the first day of recordings and the worst thing was that you had to sit next to each other and discuss different topics together. the moment you sat down, you could already sense the awkwardness seeping from the both of you. you couldn’t even look at each other, or better, jake couldn’t. of course the other members noticed the uncomfortable aura between you two and tried to ease the tension as best as they could. but jake simply looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there and you were getting more pissed off by the second.
“okay, uhm. i’ll turn on the camera on the count of three, the mics are already on, so let’s just start with ___’s intro and then jake’s small presentation. okay?” stated one of the guys.
unfortunately, since the first second, everybody in the room could sense and see with their own eyes how stiff you both looked. which was painful to watch. and you were well aware of it. jake looked bored and sounded monotonous, he was mumbling and just wasn’t saying anything relevant or slightly interesting. you tried to avoid it at first, pretending everything was going just fine. but that didn’t last for long and your patience ran thin in a very short amount of time.
“okay, that’s enough.” you suddenly snapped. “i’m sorry, guys. let’s take a five minute break, okay?” you sent them a tight lipped smile.
“jake, can we talk outside for a second?” you then coldly directed your attention at him, to which he merely nodded at you, but still followed you in the hallway.
“okay, listen up.” you pointed a finger at him, slowly getting closer and closer while he tried to step back. “i don’t know what your problem is and i don’t even care. the only thing i’m asking you is to get your shit together and act like a responsible person. you are the one who fucking volunteered for this, so act like you want to do it or just leave. you’re wasting all these people’s time, people who are just as busy with college and personal life as you are.”
you were so caught up in your anger that you didn’t notice you had now cornered him against the wall, while he was just embarrassingly staring at you. he was of course ashamed of his behavior, everything you told him was right, but he was especially flustered by your close proximity. the way you were so fiercely putting him into place, standing up for the work of the podcast’s members on behalf of their president, was just madly attractive. but he would never admit that out loud.
you too realized how close you two had gotten and swiftly took a step back while awkwardly coughing.
“seriously, i don’t know what’s going on with you. but if you’re going through a hard time, that’s not an excuse to act like this.” your voice softened a little, but your gaze remained sharp. “can i ask you something?” you then let out after a long sight.
he only nodded in reply.
“why did you decide to join?”
maybe it was your straightforwardness, or the way you softened when hinting at his possible personal problems. maybe it was the fact that even if you were mad, you still weren’t yelling at him, degrading him and making him feel like a walking soulless failure. maybe it was the fact that in that moment, he noticed something deeper in you that people normally wouldn’t see, because they would never get this close to you. maybe it was a combination of all these things that made his walls partially crumble.
“that day at lunch, after you left our table, the boys tried to convince me to join this. they think it could be good for me, that doing something new might help me. they want the old me back. hell, i want the old me back. but i don’t know how to do it. and i guess that your personality moved something in me, from the few times we spoke together. and that scared me, so i started acting like an asshole. i’m really sorry, ___. thank you for opening my eyes.”
you surely weren’t expecting all this honesty, that’s why it took you a moment to register everything he had said. but when you did, everything started to make more sense. you didn’t regret your angry approach, but you surely had discovered a new side of him. and you maybe were starting to reconsider him as a person.
“i understand.” you slowly nodded, but what he noticed was the almost subtle change in your eyes, a softer gaze now replacing the fierce one from before. “so, do you still want to give it a try?” you questioned with a hint of challenge in your voice, which made him slightly turn the corners of his mouth upwards.
“let’s do this.” he nodded determinedly and followed you back inside.
after deeply apologizing to everyone, jake sat down next to you again, a more relaxed expression on both of your faces. and so the first episode of the podcast was successfully recorded and that day, the both of you left campus with a new understanding of each other.
────
TIME REALLY DOES FLY SOMETIMES.
because a month had already passed and you and jake were skillfully recording episode after episode. that experience involuntarily brought you closer, making you two discover one another on a deeper level, until you ended up being friends. so now jake’s lunch table and yours became a single one, your respective friends getting along surprisingly well.
and so that’s why you were at sunghoon’s house, on a friday night, celebrating his and ni-ki’s birthdays. when the two guys found out they were born only one day from one another, they immediately planned to celebrate their birthdays together. and they kept their word.
you’ve never been a big party lover, that’s why, at one point in the night, you decided to take a break from the loud music, cheers and laughter and wandered off in search of a quieter place to stay at for a little while. however, your plan turned out to be harder than you had predicted, since sunghoon’s house was massive, and ended up standing in the back garden. but you weren’t alone. in front of you, standing by the pool, there was jake. he was speaking on the phone and by the looks of it, it really seemed like he was arguing with someone. since you didn’t want to eavesdrop and violate his privacy, you were going to turn around and leave him alone, but one particularly strained bit of the conversation caught your attention.
“leave me alone, haneul. it’s been almost a year and only now you decide to apologize and explain why you fucking cheated on me? why now, huh? why now when i’m finally happier? why now that i’m finally getting over you?”
his voice was loud, but incredibly weak and tired. arguing with her was the last thing that he expected to be doing that night and to be completely honest, he was fighting the urge to just hang up in her face. but deep down, he was well aware that a part of him would have still felt guilty. you took it as your queue to leave, it didn’t feel right with you to overhear such a personal conversation.
as your new quiet destination, you opted for the kitchen, which to your luck was completely empty. you grabbed a bottle of beer and sat on the counter, your feet dangling while you looked around. after only a couple of minutes, you saw jake’s figure approaching you, a small smile on his face as soon as you caught his eyes. but behind that apparent tranquillity, you were able to pick up the uneasiness from the recent phone call.
“found you! what are you doing here all alone?” he came to your side, propping his elbow on the counter, close to your exposed tight, and staring up at you. your breath got almost caught in your throat and you mentally cursed yourself for finding that simple gesture so attractive.
what was going with you lately?
“just needed a quieter place to recharge, you know?” you shrugged your shoulders, without breaking the eye contact.
“i saw you before, in the back garden.” he suddenly revealed, making you widen your eyes and turn a dark shade of red.
“don’t worry.” he quickly added with a light laugh. “you didn’t interrupt anything important.” he reassured you.
“i overheard just a little bit of your conversation, then i immediately left. i’m sorry.” you looked everywhere but at him, flustered.
“don’t apologize.” he murmured. he then delicately brought his hand up to your chin, in order to make your head turn to look at him. you just stopped there for a little while, simply admiring one another, almost as if you were trying to memorize as many details of each other’s features as possible.
“are you okay?” you eventually found the courage to whisper, pure concern etched on your face.
and that incredibly warmed jake’s heart. seeing you caring for him and asking how he was doing made his heart beat way faster than it was supposed to. it wasn’t often that someone would stop and ask him if he was doing okay. most of the time, even his family and friends would just look at him sympathetically and avoid the topic as much as possible, knowing he wouldn’t answer them even if they tried. but with you, it was completely different. there was something about you that made him question everything. that was your power. your fierceness, your way of thinking and formulating your thoughts, your challenging nature. all these things pushed him, threw him off guard at times and made him look up to you. and also look forward to the podcast’s recordings.
he still remembers his friends’ words that day during lunch: “i think ___’s influence could do you good. i’m positive she would be able to really challenge you and maybe bring out something that’s stuck deep inside of you. passion, determination, purpose.” heeseung had said. “and maybe the old you.” jay had also added.
the old him. to be honest, it would be impossible to go back to the old him, because that would imply going back to his old life. however, he was starting to embrace a new version of himself, a version that combined his old traits and his new ones. the essence of who he was was slowly coming back, but it was accompanied by the hurt he was still healing from.
“jake? are you there?” you waved a hand in front of his face, bringing him back from his thoughts.
“sorry, got lost in my head for a moment.” he sheepishly smiled up at you.
“what were you thinking so intensely about?” you softly giggled.
oh, what an angelic sound. he truly could listen to it nonstop for the rest of his life.
“do you think i’m on the right path to finding myself again?” he honestly asked, making you smile fondly.
“well, would you have asked anyone this question a few months ago?” you asked back.
“i see your point.” he nodded happily. “then, i have to thank you.” he stated seriously.
“me? why?” you furrowed your eyebrows, that was new.
“thanks to you i feel like i have a purpose again and like i’m actually doing something useful, productive. i’m not just existing and letting the days go by while i’m stuck in my head with my bad memories. i finally have something to look forward to. and someone.”
you were speechless, to say the least. a whirlwind of emotions was making its way inside you, leaving you almost out of breath. seeing him being so vulnerable in front of your eyes, thanking you for something so important, something that you didn’t even realize you were doing, it was just a lot to comprehend.
“yun, i don’t even know what to say.” you breathlessly let out. “i didn’t even know i was helping you this much, but i’m glad i unconsciously did. you deserve to be happy again.” you genuinely smiled, every word coming out of your mouth enhancing his sudden desire to just smash his lips on yours.
you tentatively reach for his face, brushing a loose strand of his hair out of his eyes and then cupping his cheek to softly brush your thumb on his soft skin. jake’s complexion turned a faint pink, but he didn’t care. not if it was in front of you.
“yun?” he softly smiled, his heart beating rapidly upon hearing the new nickname.
“oh, i’m sorry—“
“no.” he shook his head. “i love it.”
“i’m glad you found me.” he added right after, closing his eyes to bask in the softness of your touch.
“and i’m glad i found you.”
────
BEING AWOKEN BY YOUR PHONE BUZZING AT TWO IN THE MORNING HADN’T CLEARLY BEEN ON YOUR AGENDA.
looking at the display, you read sunghoon’s name and confusedly furrowed your eyebrows. why was he calling you in the middle of the night?
“sunghoon? what’s wrong?” you groggily answered the phone.
“hi, ___. i’m so sorry to call you at this hour, but there’s a kind of.. situation.” you could sense the nervousness in his tone and you could also hear muffled sounds and hushed voices in the background.
“did something happen?”
“yeah.. uhm, it’s jake.” at the mention of the boy’s name, your heart skipped a beat. “we are at a party and jake might have drunk a little too much after he talked— no, i should let him explain it to you. the point is, he fought a random guy and now that he’s more sober, he’s kinda.. struggling?”
you were so confused, especially because he wasn’t talking directly and was clearly hiding something from you.
“hoon, i hate when you talk in circles. is he hurt? are you trying to ask me to come to you?” you went straight to the point, making the guy let out a breath of relief.
“yes, please. he’s not that hurt, just a few scratches. it’s just that.. he’s very emotional at the moment and we don’t really know what to do. nothing seems to help.” he admitted.
“and why do you think i could help instead?” you raised a brow.
“because it’s you.”
“ass-kisser.” you playfully scoffed. “text me the address, i’ll be there as soon as i can.”
entering what you assumed was a frat boy’s house with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie surely caught people’s attention.
thankfully, you didn’t have to look around the massive house in search of any of your friends, because heeseung and jay were already approaching you.
“thank you so much for coming, ___-ie. we really don’t know what to do.” heeseung sounded almost desperate.
“what even happened?” you asked, confusion and concern etched onto your features.
“haneul approached him as soon as he arrived here. they badly argued and then he just started drinking nonstop. after a mere hour, he was already shitfaced and picked up a fight with a random dude who just accidentally knocked into him. but don’t worry, it was just a couple punches and it was all over.” he started to explain. “and now that the effect of the alcohol is almost completely gone, he’s just elaborating on everything that happened, mainly the conversation with haneul i assume, and he’s been crying and on edge for the past hour. we don’t know how to calm him down.” finished jay.
they led you upstairs and into one of the guest rooms. and there he was, sitting at the edge of the bed with his fingers almost painfully tugging at his hair. he was mumbling incoherent words as sunghoon was standing in front of him, trying to reassure him. as soon as your steps became audible, both of their gazes snapped in your direction, making you almost jump. at the sight of your small, reassuring smile, jake’s eyes automatically welled up with tears.
“why did you call her?” he let out in a broken sob, covering his face shamefully.
“thanks for coming, ___. we’ll be outside in the hallway if you need us.” sunghoon swiftly approached you, not before giving jake an affectionate pat on the shoulder. you nodded and slowly approached the broken guy, sitting close next to him.
“jake, it’s okay. don’t hide from me, i’m never going to judge you.” you softly called out, resting a hand on his back and slowly patting it in circles.
“i’m sorry you have to see me like this. and i’m sorry you had to come here in the middle of the night. were you sleeping?” he mumbled in his hands.
“nothing to be sorry about, of course i would come for you.” you softly smiled, your words finally making him look up at you. seeing his red and puffy eyes clench your heart, you couldn’t stand the idea of him suffering. you subconsciously reached for his face, drying his tears with your thumb and making jake flustered. you only smiled endearingly at his rosy cheeks.
“are you hurt?” you then asked, delicately angling his face more towards you to look for any possible wounds. you took his hands next to do the same and let out a sight of relief when you didn’t find anything. but when you were about to loosen the grip on his hand, jake tightened it and began to softly caress your knuckles with his thumb. you properly looked at him, at his features, at the pain and sorrow hidden behind his expression, but that somehow you were always able to effortlessly notice it.
“do you want to talk about it?” you whispered, afraid you were maybe crossing a line, or moving too fast.
realization hit him, they had told you. he heavily sighted, but decided it was time to finally open up and tell you the whole story from the beginning. he trusted you, he deeply cared for you, he considered you important. there weren’t any more reasons to keep denying it to himself.
“i’ll have to start from the very beginning, though.” he murmured, squeezing your hand as if to seek comfort.
“and i’m here to listen to everything you want to confide in me.” you squeezed his hand back.
and so he did.
he told you how him and haneul met and got together, he explained the toxic situation between her and her ex-boyfriend and he painfully described how he caught the two making out in an empty hallway on campus. he then delved into the details of his former relationship, describing how it wasn’t as perfect as it looked from the outside. he opened up about haneul’s toxic behavior, how she would love bomb him when she was in a good mood, and then yell the worst and most degrading things at him when she wouldn’t feel well. she also often compared him to her ex, or to any other popular guy.
“i was so exhausted. i knew it was toxic and i knew i had to leave her. but i just couldn’t. i mean, i was in love with her, we dated for more than a year and she started acting like that only in the last few months, when she started to go back to her ex. every time she would hurt me, i would tell myself that it was going to be the last time, that i was finally breaking up with her. but then i would recall all of our good memories, all the times she had been a good girlfriend. plus, she would apologize every time and, i don’t know, she sounded so genuine, like her old self. i couldn’t find it in me to break it off. i feel so stupid, i should have been stronger—“
“don’t ever say it again. it’s not your fault.” you immediately cut him off, maybe a bit too harshly, making him look down on the floor. “no, hey, look at me.” you quickly softened your tone. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to sound mean. i just can’t stand seeing you like this and on top of it all, blaming yourself for something that someone else did to you. please, believe me when i tell you that it’s not your fault.”
you didn’t even realize you had started crying until you felt jake’s thumb softly caress your cheeks and dry your tears, just like you had previously done to him. but then, he let his desire and amplified emotions get the best of him, and he found himself slowly inching closer and closer to your face, his gaze dangerously dropping down to your lips. he couldn’t do it anymore, he couldn’t stand the tension between the two of you anymore. he was far gone, completely whipped for you. in his eyes, you were just perfect, you always knew what to say, you could understand him perfectly and you truly, genuinely cared about him. whether it was through words or gestures, you had let him know how important you considered him, probably even without fully realizing it.
your breath itched upon realizing what he was trying to do. you would be lying if you stated that you didn’t want to kiss him. your feelings weren’t completely clear to you yet, but you couldn’t deny the tension between you two anymore. however, on the other hand, your common sense also butted in. was it the right time to kiss each other? when he was so vulnerable and still upset? you didn’t want to take advantage of him and risk him regretting it later on.
“yun, i don’t think right now it’s the right time.” you found the strength to whisper, your hot breath fanning over his lips.
“are you rejecting me?” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours and closing his eyes, afraid of the possible answer.
“no.. i just don’t want to take advantage of your vulnerable state. you’re not thinking completely straight and you’re still shaken up by everything that happened.” you tenderly explained, cupping his cheek with one hand.
“but, will we talk about this?” he hopefully questioned, opening his puppy eyes again and almost melting you on the spot.
“of course, whenever you want. just, not right now. okay?” you smiled, making him vigorously nod.
“thank you, you found me this time too.” he whispered.
“i’ll always find you, yun.”
────
EXAMS WERE APPROACHING.
you could sense it from the extreme nervousness running through your whole body. you, jungwon and heeseung decided to meet up at a café to try and get more work done, but you knew your plans wouldn’t last long as soon as you saw the two guys looking knowingly at each other and then directly at you. you huffed an annoyed breath, mimicking crossing your arms.
“spit it out.” you impatiently demanded, causing a wide, sly smile to form on their lips.
“what’s the deal with jake?” heeseung went straight to the point.
“there’s no deal. we’re friends, you know that.” you scoffed.
“close friends.” jungwon suggestively raised his eyebrows.
“just say whatever bullshit you two have in mind.” you huffed once again, making him pout.
“it’s not bullshit! we’re serious, he told us what happened that night. why haven’t you discussed it yet?” he pried.
“i don’t think that would be a good idea.” you avoided their eyes, looking down on your notes.
“why do you say that?” heeseung softly asked.
“you know why.”
“he’s over her, you know it too.” jungwon pointed out.
“yeah, but he still hasn’t completely healed, yet. and he trusts me, he completely opened up to me. hell, he told me everything, every little detail. i can’t find it in myself to disrupt his newfound balance, even if he feels the same way about me.”
“i think you should go for it anyway. trust me, you won’t ruin anything. on the contrary, you’ll only do him good.”
“huh? what are you trying to say?” you furrowed your forehead, feigning cluelessness, when in reality you had probably a vague idea of what they were referring to.
heeseung knew that and rolled his eyes at you, but decided to still please you and tell you directly. “we shouldn’t tell you this, but he keeps talking about you and about what happened that night. he nonstop keeps sulking because you still haven’t talked it out and he badly wants to, but he’s afraid you’ll reject him and he prefers to wait for you to give him the okay to talk. but he’s ready, ___. he’s been ready for quite a while now. so piss off and go talk to him.” he sternly commanded.
“what? now? that’s a bit—“
well, they managed to convince you. and now there you were, seated at the bleachers by the football court, watching jake train with his former team. when you texted jake to meet up, the last thing you expected to read was the text he sent you: “i’m about to start practice, but you can come and watch me. we’ll talk afterwards.”
since when was he on the football team again? why didn’t he tell you? was he going to quit the podcast?
so many questions started to invade your mind, typical of you and your overthinking. and you were so deep in your concerns that you didn’t even notice jake approaching you, already showered and changed.
“hey, there! what got you so deep in your thoughts?” he softly giggled, making your heart melt for a short instant. but then you remembered the whole reason why you were so out of it in the first place.
“are you back in the team?” was the first thing you asked.
“kind of. since coach is still very pissed at me for leaving in the first place, he’s making me practice again, but i won’t be able to actually play and be officially back until next season.” he calmly explained.
“wow, i didn’t know you were considering it. wait, but does that mean you’re going to quit the podcast? i mean, you’ll be busier and you have to also think about your exams. i don’t want to burden you with the podcast, so if you feel like quitting, then i’m going to respect-“ you nervously started to rumble, agitating your hands in the air for more emphasis.
in that moment, jake found you incredibly adorable, and the urge to shut you up with a kiss became almost unbearable.
“hey, hey! slow down, tiger!” he genuinely laughed, ruffling your hair and sitting right next to you. “i’m not quitting, don’t worry. i still have enough time to do everything, don’t worry.”
“are you sure? i swear, i’m not going to be upset if you want to quit.” you insisted, concern etched onto your features.
“i’m 100% sure. now, what did you want to talk about?” he curiously asked, unconsciously leaning over towards you.
“uhm.. well—shit, how can i say it..” you started to nervously ramble to yourself, making jake suspiciously raise an eyebrow.
“what got you so stressed out you can’t even say it out loud? it’s unlike you to struggle being straightforward.” he pointed out, a knowing smirk fighting to form on his face; he knew what you were most definitely trying to confess.
but he was right. you were known for never being afraid to say what you truly thought, so were you really going to let emotions get in the way of your usual confidence?
of course not.
“you know, you’re right. i’m going to be straightforward, like always. but.. promise not to run away!” you quickly pleaded, softly clutching his arm.
at the sudden touch, jake felt a jolt of electricity go through him and had to try his best not to let it shine through.
“i promise, ___-ie.”
you took a deep breath, looked at him straight in the eyes and finally let out the words that you were dreading so much.
“jake, i have feelings for you. please, don’t run away.” you immediately let go of his arm and cast your gaze to the floor, too flustered and scared to keep eye contact.
on the other hand, jake was grinning like an idiot.
“and why do you think i would run away?”
“because you’re feeling so much better and you finally found a balance in your life and i don’t want my feelings to scare you away or make you uncomfortable. i mean, i know we were about to kiss and everything, but you weren’t in the right state of mind. so i started overthinking, like always, and convinced myself that you had regretted it or you didn’t feel ready. but then today i was studying with heeseung and jungwon and they convinced me to talk to you—“ “___” “and they were like hinting at you reciprocating my feelings and wanting to talk about it, but honestly, i’m still hesitant—“ “___, hey!” “i don’t want to ruin thing between us and i don’t want to rush you into anything. i mean, i know you’re finally healing and feeling so much better, i don’t want to cause any damage—“
not finding any other way to make you stop cutely rambling, he opted for the thing he’s been dreading the most in the past few weeks: he smashed his lips on yours, finally being able to shut you up. the kiss was slow, sweet and a bit uncertain. it was filled with unspoken feelings, deep understanding and affection.
“you weren’t kidding when you said you tend to heavily ramble when you get nervous.” he was the first to break the silence, teasingly smirking at you. “but i love it.”
“yeah?” you breathlessly let out, looking at him still in a daze. you were still trying to process everything.
“yeah.” he happily giggled, planting a quick kiss on your cheek, only making you more flustered. “___, i like you so, so, so much. you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, i’m dead serious. you literally saved me and i’ll forever be grateful for it. but i feel ready, you don’t have to worry about anything. you’ve taken care of me for all these months, now i feel like it’s time i reciprocate it and start taking care of you. but as your boyfriend, if you’ll let me.”
“are you asking me out, sim?” you teased.
“only if you say yes.”
and then he suddenly retrieved two tickets from his pocket, but they weren’t simple tickets. they were concert tickets for your favorite artist.
“jake! you didn’t!” you gasped, looking repeatedly at him and the tickets in his hands with wide eyes.
“i did.” he vigorously nodded. “i remember you talking about it in one of our first podcast’s episodes. i actually bought them a few weeks ago, i was planning to confess my feelings and ask you out, but i couldn’t find the right moment and then you anticipated me.” he sheepishly scratched the back of his head.
“you are absolutely crazy, yun. thank you so much.” you quickly pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace.
“i’ll take it as a yes, then?” he giggled in your ear.
“of course, yun!”
“i’m glad we found each other, i wouldn’t imagine all of this with anybody else.” he softly whispered, caressing your head with one hand.
“me too. i’ll always find you, yun. that’s a promise.”
────
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© 2024 all rights reserved to user whjluv
warning: cursing, little angst, slow burn, suggestive content.
flirting was something you were unexpectedly good at, especially to your crush ni-ki... even though you knew you didn't stand a chance.
you love giving him compliments, spamming hearts on his posts, teasing him, staring at him like you're so in-love, sometimes you'll playfully touch him.
ni-ki though, he just ignore you. every single time, because to him, there's no way you're serious about what you're doing... there's no way you're serious about him.
and you knew he gets annoyed and will just straight-up walked away from you but it wasn't like you had any grand expectations.
you just liked him too much to stop.
you and jay were waiting for everyone to arrive, casually teasing each other like always but he was pushing it today, so you decided to bite back.
plus, let's be honest, your friend was looking a little too good right now. "i'd totally kiss you right now if you don't stop." you groaned before rolling your eyes at him.
it's a joke. a normal joke between the two of you.
except, of course, ni-ki just had to walk in right at that moment and the second your eyes met, you froze, eyes widening like you'd been caught doing something you weren't supposed to.
see? it would've been easy for him to believe you actually liked him if it weren't for the way you acted with everyone else.
ni-ki shook his head like he was disappointed in you.
…seriously, why do he always catch you at the bad time?
like that one time you haven't showered and the moment you stepped outside looking like a complete mess, you bumped into him.
and you must've look so bad that he started blushing and chuckling before walking away. you ran straight back inside and swore to never ever leave the house again unless you looked presentable.
though sometimes, it's like "fuck it!" you'd do whatever you want whether he's gonna be disappointed or not. it's not like he's gonna like you anyway, right?
"tsk, tsk. you pissed him off again," jay chuckled at ni-ki's reaction.
"i didn't!" you rolled your eyes. "you know he's always like that when he sees me, i haven't even talked to him yet."
jay just shook his head and if you were a guy, he'd probably smack you for being this dumb.
you went inside and spotted ni-ki sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone and the second he saw you coming, he turned his back on you.
so you sat down right in front of him.
"what are you doing?" you grinned, leaning close.
"get out of my face."
you frowned. "tsk, you've got attitude now?"
he ignored you, pretending to laugh at whatever was on his screen then you tried to peek but he quickly moved his phone away.
"why are you-"
"go awaaay!" ni-ki groaned, trying to push you but you made yourself heavy and slid your head right into his chest.
you grinned, looking up at him. "i don't want to. i wanna be with you."
ni-ki rolled his eyes. "yeah, says the one who's for everybody."
your jaw dramatically dropped, looking around the room and at him like, who's everybody?
"you must be everybody," you shot back, pushing your face way too close to his.
ni-ki's heart started racing uncontrollably, tip of his ear were turning red again cause you were staring at him like he was the only person in the world.
and he hates it. you're the one who likes him yet he's the only one feeling these things... and you were probably just joking.
so he wished you would stop messing with him.
frustrated, ni-ki pushed you away with a little force, enough to make you fall back onto the couch while laughing.
"oh my... where are you going?" you called him out but he just walked away.
and today was just not it.
not enough sleep and you haven't eaten yet.
you were also late, your quiz results were bad, and to make things worse, you just got scolded.
oh, and because the universe clearly had it out for you today you forgot your wallet too, so now you had to walk home and your legs were killing you.
ni-ki was standing with a group of friends when he spotted you in the distance, walking alone with your head down.
you heard the familiar voice even when you were so lost in your thought. how could you not? that's your source of strength after all...
but out of all the days, how about he mess with you instead this time?
just as you were about to call him out, he pretended not to see you, leaning closer to one of the girls beside him as she playfully shoved his arm. his eyes were sparkling, his grin stretched so wide it practically lit up his face.
and you thought, that's definitely nothing like how he is with you.
your heart ached again as you watched, then you felt foolish, your cheeks burning as the weight of your behavior settled in.
you really have been chasing after someone who clearly doesn't feel the same way and worse, you wondered if you had made him uncomfortable.
you felt sorry for ni-ki and... yourself.
so you started to avoid him. you didn't think about whether he noticed or cared, you knew he might but still, you just needed to stop bothering him.
you would leave early and walk longer distances just to make sure you wouldn't bump into him whenever he'll take jogs in the morning. you would pretend to fix your bag or look at your watch so you wouldn't see him if he's hanging outside with others, though your heart still aches after hearing his voice.
sometimes, ni-ki's eyes would scan rooms without even realizing who he was searching for and when he didn't find you, he'd shake it off and move on, assuming you were just busy somewhere.
you became content to yourself staying in your own little bubble, no more hanging out these days with everyone, and no more forcing yourself to someone.
and now, ni-ki noticed because when he walked out of the house and he saw you pass by, your head was tilted slightly down and you were completely immersed in whatever it is you're reading.
and your class ended a while ago, you didn't expect that it'll rain today and had forgotten your umbrella.
the rain was relentless, pouring down heavily as you stood under a little roof near the gate, the only bit of shelter from the downpour but it did not help to keep you dry, your clothes were already soaked. you just hoped that the notebooks in your bag are still safe.
you wiped your face, trying to brush the water off from the wind that pushed the rain sideways but it was useless, the rain kept coming, cold and unforgiving. and despite the chill, you didn't panic or try to shield yourself. you just stood there, staring out at streets, waiting patiently for it to stop or at least slow down.
it's going to be okay.
most of the other students had already left, leaving the school grounds quiet. ni-ki walked towards the gate, then his steps slowed down when he saw you standing there with your figure illuminated dimly by the glow of the streetlights.
and his first instinct was to stop and turn back. the memory of how you used to call out to him, how you'd run up to him with your usual energy, it flashed through his mind.
to be honest, he didn't find you annoying, he was just overwhelmed and shy. a defense mechanism, maybe? he's overthinking, maybe?
he stepped to the side, hiding behind a nearby pillar. he wasn't sure why he hid though. he watched you rub at your nose, visibly shivering as the rain continued to drench you.
ni-ki hesitated for a moment, completely torn between staying hidden and stepping in but when you sneezed, "shit." he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he let out a sigh, totally frustrated with himself.
finally, he walked towards you. you didn't even notice him until he spoke, "you'll get sick if you stay like this." he said, dropping his umbrella and started to remove his jacket.
you blinked at him, water dripping from your lashes as you hugged yourself. you watched him for a second then slowly, ni-ki handed you his jacket. you muttered "thanks."
ni-ki also studied you for a moment, waiting for something. maybe a look? a word? just anything that resembled the way you used to act around him.
but nothing came, you simply adjusted the jacket around your shoulders with your calm and detached expression as if he's just someone you knew.
"i can walk you home." ni-ki said, his voice was loud enough for you to hear through the sound of heavy rain.
"you sure?" you asked, wiping your face again.
he smiled and nodded.
ni-ki glanced at you as you both hurried down the sidewalk, you were both dodging puddles and rushing towards the nearest shelter. and each time you reached one, you would stop for just a moment to catch your breath before rushing out with him again, running through the rain like you were playing some kind of game.
but you haven't said anything at all. the rhythm of your movement, the way you picked up the pace never looking back, told him that you were just determined to get home as fast as possible.
ni-ki was thrilled, his heart was beating fast as he dashed forward with you on his side. you both stopped just under the roof, he's panting slightly, grinning but it faded when he looked at you standing a little further away like you're not exhilarated by the chase.
he didn't even had the time to dwell on it because soon enough, you were ready to move again to head towards the final stretch before your place.
when you reached the familiar corner near your home, you stopped, ni-ki looked at you. "i'll walk you the rest of the way."
you shook your head, taking off his jacket. "no, i'll take it from here." you said, slipped out his jacket to hand it back to him.
ni-ki opened his mouth to protest, "keep it..." he said quietly but you already turned away.
"thanks!" you said. ni-ki stood there for a moment with the jacket in his hands, watching you as you disappeared into the distance.
next day, at lunch, he was just about to head to cafeteria. his eyes were wandering again when he saw you, you were sitting on the steps with your back pressed against the wall, burying your face in your hands.
you were startled slightly when you heard footsteps, you quickly bowed your head to acknowledge him, hoping he would just walk past, but he didn't.
instead, ni-ki stopped in front of you and sat close enough that his knees were now brushing against yours.
you dodged slightly when you saw his hands reach out. "what are you doing?" your voice was hoarse, weak.
he didn't answer. instead, he gently grabbed your other hand and pressed the back of his against your forehead after noticing how red your cheeks and lips were.
"i knew it." he sighed and held out his hand. you hesitated but he didn't give you much choice, gently but firmly pulling you to your feet. "come on."
he led you to the clinic and guided you to sit on the bed, the bed's height put your legs directly in his line of sight and he stared for a moment, swallowing hard, before looking away.
you watched as he leaned over you, reaching for the blanket folded at the head of the bed and his face came so close to yours that you could hear his breath.
so close...
ni-ki froze for a moment, his eyes locked with yours, he cleared his throat and draped the blanket over your shoulders.
"can you walk home?" the nurse asked as she will send you home.
"yeah."
ni-ki skipped class to take you home, he noticed your wobbly steps so he removed the backpack from your shoulders to carry it instead.
you didn't protest when he took the bag and the two of you started to walk side by side but after a few more wobbly steps, he gently placed your hand in his arm, offering you support.
ni-ki stayed silent, he wanted to be annoyed and he wanna start scolding you but at the same time he can't even seem to stop himself from smiling, and when you got home, he was spamming you with messages.
love of my life: hey, you good?
love of my life: are you alive?
love of my life: oiiiii
love of my life: yeah, stop talking to me.
he threw his phone onto the bed.
you're always like this, right? so, he's done. he's not going to text you anymore. if you didn't even bother replying, then why should he-
a notification sound cut off his thoughts.
you: my head and my body hurts.
ni-ki sat up immediately, fumbling to unlock his phone before getting out of bed in search of jay.
"hyu-hyung…" he called out, clearing his throat.
jay raised a brow at him.
"i heard your friend was sick," ni-ki muttered before looking away.
jay blinked confused, then shrugged. "yeah? and i heard you took her home."
"yeah!" ni-ki forced a laugh. "uhh… you gonna visit her?"
jay shot him a confused look again. "why would i?"
"i don't know…" ni-ki mumbled.
he snorted. "she's got a mom, you know. she'll be fine." he turned back to his phone, already moving on from the conversation.
ni-ki hesitated before speaking again. "remember when you guys freaked out when i got sick? imagine her mom being alone and taking care of that idiot."
jay froze. "oh, shit." he got up from his seat. "okay, i'm going."
"wait, wait, wait!" ni-ki grabbed his arm. "you don't need help?"
jay narrowed his eyes. "do you wanna come?"
ni-ki crossed his arms. "i mean… if you need help, then, yeah, i'll go."
jay forced a smiled, totally done with the both of you. "...right."
you started hanging out with them again, just laughing in the background, blending in, and not standing out like you usually did.
it was weird to ni-ki.
"the hell's wrong with her? is she feeling sick again or something?"
when he saw you alone on the balcony, he didn't hesitate to walk over. he stood beside you quietly, resting his arms on the railing while staring ahead. "so you don't like me anymore?"
you turned to him, confused. "huh?"
his eyes widened slightly like he hadn't meant to say that out loud. "nothing!" he blurted out, immediately annoyed at himself.
you stared at him, completely lost. "what's your problem? so you like it when i annoy you?"
"what? no. hell no."
he pushed off the railing, leaving before you could ask any more questions.
at home, you couldn't help but text him.
you: were you waiting for me to flirt with you today? lmaooo
love of my life: you're full of shit.
you: i was kidding. who said i stopped liking you?
ni-ki read the message twice with a smirk forming at his lips.
you: i just don't wanna make you uncomfortable. lemme move on in peace, okay?
his smirk dropped.
love of my life: so you can flirt with someone else instead, right?
you: stop that.
love of my life: why? cause it's true?
he leaned back against his bed, waiting for a reply, fully expecting you to argue back but the screen stayed blank, removing his smile completely.
ni-ki sighed, tapping the edge of his phone against his palm. did i go too far? he started typing, then deleted it. typed again, then erased it.
you: can you come get me?
love of my life: where are you?
his heart skipped a beat, grabbing his jacket without any second thoughts.
"i can't believe you…" ni-ki muttered, staring at you as you shivered in the cold, wearing nothing but thin layers.
"i didn't know it was gonna snow today!" you protested, rubbing your arms.
he said, slipping off his inner jacket and made you wear it, muttering about how stubborn you were. especially since you'd just recovered from being sick.
your eyes lit up as you spotted something. "can we stop there?" you pointed at a bench near a tteokbokki stall, where the warmth from the steam cleared the air.
ni-ki grabbed your hand and shoved it into his coat pocket as he led you there.
your heart started going crazy. "you're so gonna make me delusional." you murmured. "i'll think i have a chance."
"everyone has a chance with me."
you rolled your eyes, "you're the only one who has a chance with me." is what you wanted to say.
"and yet you say i'm for everybody?" you scoffed. ni-ki pulled your hand away and placed it back in your lap.
"no, no, i'm sorry, hold it longer, please?" you pouted, tilting your head. "just this time? riki?"
"wha-" he was flustered after hearing his real name from your mouth. then he sighed heavily, "fine," he said before taking your hand again and shoving it back into his pocket.
you giggled, and ni-ki smiled while shaking his head, watching you like you were the biggest idiot alive.
"seriously," you sighed, "i don't like it when you keep pushing the idea that i flirt with other people…"
"but you do," he shot back. "and you keep bullshitting me. you don't like me."
your chest tightened. "i like you," you muttered, "i just… i don't know. what more do you want me to do?"
the two of you held each other's gaze, eyes were searching for... honesty? sincerity?
ni-ki's jaw clenched. "forget it," he muttered, looking away.
you pressed your lips into a thin line, swallowing back the words you wanted to say.
jeongseong: really? that's so funny.
you: what's so funny??? guys are so fucking complicated like? i was moving on and he'd just do all that for nothing.
jeongseong: maybe stop messing around so you'll also be taken seriously.
you: i don't mess around.
jeongseong: you don't even know what's his favorite color, his favorite food, what's the name of his pet... you just flirt with him.
you: omg??
jeongseong: yeah... tsk. don't talk to me.
next day, you just stopped messing with everyone.
"y/n, you look good today."
and you walked past them like you didn't hear it.
ni-ki watched as you brushed off the attention you once entertained so easily. you weren't laughing with them, weren't throwing back flirty comebacks.
are you trying to impress him or something?
love of my life: where are you spending your summer break?
you: secret.
he didn't reply so you folded.
you: at my aunt's.
love of my life: alone?
you: yeah. need to relax, too.
love of my life: can i go too?
you nearly choked before replying.
you: i don't know if my mom will allow that…
love of my life: i'll ask her myself.
love of my life: unless you don't want me to come?
"are you crazy?" you muttered under your breath while looking at the screen.
mom said yes immediately, too... and she wouldn't stop talking about ni-ki.
"you're not actually thinking he'll go, right? besides, how could you even allow that?" you asked in disbelief as she unpacked groceries, acting completely unfazed.
"allow what?" she asked, faking her innocence.
"letting ni-ki come with me! i was supposed to go alone!"
she chuckled, clearly amused by your frustration. "oh, come on. it's your chance."
"my chance for what?" you snapped, crossing your arms. "i am moving on from him. that was old news."
"oh, really?" she mused, her smirk growing wider. "sure."
you groaned. "and how could you even think this is a good idea? letting a girl my age go off with a boy?"
she simply shrugged. "i guess i trust you."
ni-ki texted you that same night.
love of my life: so, any updates on our trip? should i bring snacks?
you: please tell me you're just kidding.
love of my life: no, why?
you: because this is supposed to be my trip, not ours.
love of my life: don't care, i'm great company. you'll thank me later.
you stared at his message for a long moment before tossing your phone onto your bed.
why is he doing this?
the train station felt busy, you stood there near the entrance, clutching the train tickets in your hand while waiting patiently for ni-ki.
and like always, he stood out from the crowd, dressed cool in a leather jacket over a tank top that hugged his figure, paired with a baggy jeans and sneakers.
his hair was slightly messy because of the wind but he looked so annoyingly perfect. time seemed to stop when ni-ki smiled andwalked towards you.
you shook your head, quickly turning away and started walking inside without even waiting for him.
ni-ki's smile dropped when he saw you turn your back on him. his steps quickened in panic. "y/n! wait up!" he called out, hoping you're not mad at him for being a few minutes late.
inside the train, the two of you stood a just few meters apart. you leaned against a railing, your eyes were fixed on the view outside the window while ni-ki was also leaning against the railing opposite of you.
your eyes would often meet and each time, you'd both quickly look away, pretending to be deeply invested in the passing scenery, and ni-ki would sip from his drink, as if he was very thirsty.
the train doors opened when it reached the next station. people rushed and the once spacious carriage was quickly filled, making ni-ki move closer to you.
then the crowd surged, pushing everyone closer. "sorry." he apologized when he slightly bumped at you but before he could step back, he was pushed forward again.
you found yourself pressed against the metal railing near the seats. ni-ki's arm shot out, gripping the bar to steady himself but also accidentally caging you beneath him. you gulped, feeling your boobs lightly pressed against him.
ni-ki froze when he also felt it, it's like a soft cushion underneath him.
his face heated as he realized the position you were in. his ears burned and he immediately tried to move backwards.
the crowd behind him didn't make it easy but he also didn't care. he leaned back just enough to give you some space, even if it meant pushing someone behind him.
shortly after, the train swayed again. forcing him to lean into you once more and you placed a hand on his chest. ni-ki's hand slightly brushed your shoulders as he pressed his hands against the door for support.
he quickly grabbed your hand and placed it on his arms instead... hoping you didn't feel his heart that was pounding so hard.
his eyes flicked down to your boobs for a split second before he quickly looked away. just making sure that you can breathe...
the two of you stayed like that, pressed far too close in the packed train car and every slight movement and every accidental brush of your body against his, made you both nervous.
when the train finally reached the next stop and the crowd thinned, ni-ki stepped back as much as he could, exhaling a deep breath through his pursed lips, his cheeks puffing out briefly before blowing air.
"sorry… about that." he muttered, feeling nervous.
you smiled weakly, your own face were still burning. "it's fine." you said quickly right after.
you're aunt was totally pleased by him, and later that night, you wandered into the bathroom to brush your teeth.
and when you looked around, you saw niki leaning against the wall nearby who's towel-drying his damp hair, wearing a plain white t-shirt that has a fabric so thin you could see his body underneath.
he was scrolling through his phone but the moment he noticed you, he set it down and crossed his arms.
"what?" you asked, your voice muffled by your toothbrush.
he didn't say anything, just kept watching you.
feeling self-conscious, you jokingly covered your butt with your hand. "stop staring."
ni-ki's mouth dropped open in exaggerated disbelief. "you actually think i'm checking you out?"
you shrugged, spitting into the sink.
"for your information, i was just proud that you finally took a shower"
you rinsed your mouth and glanced at him with a smirk. "that's unbelievable." continuing with, "goodnight, ni-ki."
he chuckled, running a hand through his hair, watching as you walked past him. "goodnight."
you stirred in your bed, it was midnight. the thin sheet clung to your sweaty skin because of the unbearable heat. you sat up while groaning softly, your damp hair were sticking to your neck.
"auntie?" you called out, voice cracking slightly.
no response.
sliding your feet into slippers, you got out of your room. the house silent except for the faint creak of the ceiling fan spinning. you made your way to the living room, the sliding door to the balcony was open, letting the cool breeze enter the room.
and just as you passed by his room, the door creaked open, a hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist then pulled you back.
you gasped softly, barely catching yourself from stumbling as you turned to see ni-ki standing in his doorway.
"what are you doing?"
"it's too hot in my room." you whispered, "i couldn't sleep."
ni-ki's grip loosened, but didn't let go. his eyes flickered to the open balcony door, then back to you. "sleep here."
you blinked at him, still flustered but nodding slowly. "o-okay…" you mumbled, though in your mind, you had already made a plan. you'd agree for now but the moment he'll let his guard down, you'd slip off to your own room and lock the door.
but ni-ki saw right through you and the second you took a step, he gently grabbed your arm and tugged you back again. "are you planning to escape from me?"
you rolled your eyes, brushing past him and pushing him gently out of your way.
and once you're in his room, you immediately flopped onto his bed, pulling his blanket over you.
the soft fabric smelled just like him, you tried so hard to ignore the way your heart raced at the scent.
"you're really gonna use the blanket? it's also a bit hot in here."
you didn't respond, just pulled the blanket tighter around you.
ni-ki shook his head as he remove his shirt over his head and tossed it onto a chair in the corner.
he likes to sleep naked.
"you're such an idiot." he muttered, half-laughing. "it's already hot and you're over there cooking yourself like a steamed dumpling."
you didn't dignify him with a response. instead, you stayed silent, hoping he'd eventually leave you alone.
but then, you felt the weight of his head pressed gently against your back through the blanket.
"why are you hiding under that thing?" he asked, his voice were soft but teasing.
"shut up, i'm fine." you mumbled, your voice muffled by the blanket.
ni-ki scoffed. "fine? you're gonna pass out in there. what are you even hiding from?"
"i'm not hiding."
"oh, really?" he said, shifting slightly to get more comfortable.
you groaned, peeking your head out just enough to look back and glare at him. "maybe i just like the blanket, okay?"
ni-ki tilted his head, smirking. "or maybe you're trying to avoid looking at me because i took my shirt off."
"no, i'm not!"
"so you did notice... y/n, you're so obvious." he sighed, "if you're so uncomfortable, just say so. i'll put my shirt back on."
"i'm not uncomfortable, take that off."
"right." he said and rolled his eyes. ni-ki still stood up and wore his shirt again.
you removed the blanket in a hurry, "i said take it off!"
soft sunlight shone through the window as you sat at the edge of the bed while stretching your arms above your head with a yawn.
you don't know why but after you finished washing your face and brushing your teeth, you went back to his room.
ni-ki also woke up and did his thing. he went back and threw himself on the bed "morning."
then a knock came from the door before he could tease you further. both of your heads whipped towards it and your eyes widened in panic. "ni-ki, are you awake?" your aunt called out.
you immediately turned to him, your voice a frantic whisper. "she can't see me in here. she's going to get the wrong idea."
ni-ki raised an eyebrow, "the wrong idea, huh?"
"ni-ki, seriously!"
your aunt knocked again, louder this time.
he jumped out of bed, "hide here." he said, opening the closet and gently shoving you inside. giving you a thumbs up and quickly closed the door, leaving you in darkness.
he ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down before opening the bedroom door to face your aunt, who stood there with her arms crossed.
"where is she?" she asked, her eyes scanning the room suspiciously.
"wh-who?" ni-ki asked, yawning.
"y/n.. she's not in her room, so i assumed she was here." your aunt said, stepping into the room.
ni-ki shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. "i don't know, auntie. i haven't seen her this morning."
just then, your phone started to buzz from inside the closet.
your aunt turned towards the sound. "what's that?" she asked, walking closer to the closet.
ni-ki quickly stepped in her path, his hand resting casually on the closet door. "oh, uh, that's probably coming from her room." he said smoothly. "she must've left her phone there."
your aunt raised an eyebrow. "really?"
before she could question further, ni-ki's phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out and read the text from you:
you: tell aunt i just went to convenience store. i'll be back soon.
he quickly turned the screen toward your aunt. "look, she just texted me. she's at the convenience store. said she'll be back soon."
your aunt glanced at the text and sighed. "thank you, tell her to come see me as soon as she gets back."
ni-ki nodded. "will do."
once your aunt finally left, ni-ki closed the door and hurried to open the closet. you stumbled out, brushing yourself off and leaned against the closet door, pressing your back against it. you hands were tucked behind you, gripping your phone tightly.
ni-ki crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "i just told her you must've left your phone in your room and then you'll text that you're outside? you're lucky she didn't get suspicious." he sighed, shaking his head.
you shrugged, trying to play it cool. "it's fine. thanks for covering for me."
"why did you even sleep here in my room?" he asked, rubbing his temples in mock exasperation.
you scoffed, "you're the one who insisted, remember?"
ni-ki smirked, clearly enjoying your frustration. "yeah, blame me." he took a step closer, his eyes locking onto yours and slowly, he brought his hands up to press against the closet on either side of your head, his smile faded.
and instead of you pushing him, you actually welcomed it, when his lips neared yours, you leaned in to meet him halfway.
the kiss was warm and unhurried, both of you were smiling into it like you couldn't help yourselves.
it wasn't just a kiss, it was a moment just for the two of you. his lips pressed on yours again and again, the smiles were there as if neither of you wanted it to end.
you both let out soft, breathless laughs.
"ni-ki! i need your help!" your aunt called him out again.
he glanced towards the door. "one second!" he answered, then turned his attention back to you with a smile.
"i'll distract her." he whispered, leaning in to steal another quick kiss.
"go." you whispered, grinning against his lips.
he pulled back slightly, then pressed one more before he fully stepped away, running a hand through his hair as he walked to the door.
you couldn't help but laugh softly, leaning back against the closet door, biting your lips while looking down.
you sat at the dining table with ni-ki and your aunt, attempting to follow her story about something that happened at work.
his leg would brush against yours under the table. at first, you thought it was an accident, but when it happened again and his lips formed a smile.
and when your aunt went on about a particularly dramatic coworker, ni-ki boldly held your hand on his lap.
you froze for a second, glancing at him in surprise, but he just gave you a soft smile and squeezed it gently.
luckily, your aunt didn't seem to notice because she's too engrossed in her own story.
you couldn't focus at all. every time you tried to pay attention, your eyes would drift to ni-ki, who listened to her attentively while tracing and caressing your wrist.
you forgot how to breathe as he completely derailed your thoughts.
you looked away and pretended to be absorbed in your aunt's story but it was no use, your heart was racing and the warmth of his touch wasn't helping.
when your aunt finally excused herself to grab something from the kitchen, you took a deep breath and let out a quiet laugh while shaking your head.
if the you from a few months ago could see this, she'd be so jealous.
after saying goodbye to your aunt, you and ni-ki boarded the train home. and just like before, it was packed, leaving no room to breathe.
this time, your back was pressed against his chest, and you held onto his arm for balance while he gripped the handle above you for support.
ni-ki saw a few strands of your hair brushing against your cheek. slowly, he reached out with his free hand and gently pushed your hair to the side, exposing the side of your neck.
he stared at it for a moment and without hesitation, he leaned in closer and pretended to bite your neck, his teeth grazed the air and before you could respond, he leaned in again and pressed a quick, soft kiss to your neck, making your grip on his arm tighten slightly.
now, you were both exhausted, tangled up in his bed, and it's so warm that the room felt even cozier.
ni-ki's arms were wrapped around your waist, his head were resting against your chest as you played with his soft black hair.
your legs were draped over his waist while his hands traced your thighs, caressing your skin absentmindedly.
"have you seen my new post?"
"yeah, i liked it."
"you didn't even comment."
you commented three fire emojis but ni-ki was already happy with that. you were both laughing, whispering stories with quiet chuckles, and were too tired to keep talking but also too content to stop.
ni-ki's breathing has slowed, and just when you thought he had drifted off his sleep...
"y/n?"
you hummed in response, caressing his neck.
"…i love you."
a/n: this might be 7k words or more, sorry :3
マスターリストm.list
My name is Abdelmajed. I never imagined I’d be sharing my story like this, but life in Gaza has become unbearable. I am a survivor of the war here, and in the blink of an eye, everything I once knew—my home, my safety, my community—was ripped away from me.
The war has transformed Gaza into a graveyard of broken dreams. The buildings that once stood as symbols of life and resilience are now piles of rubble. Every corner is filled with the echoes of explosions. Every moment is shrouded in uncertainty. There is no security. There is no stability. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.
Basic needs have become luxuries. Food is scarce. Clean water is even scarcer. Hospitals are overwhelmed and under-resourced, and there is almost no medical care to be found. Every night, families go to bed hungry, praying they’ll wake up to see another day. The cost of basic necessities has skyrocketed, and it’s become a daily battle just to survive.
I’ve seen things I never thought possible—standing in long lines for a piece of bread, rationing every drop of water, and watching my people suffer in silence. I have lost everything—my home, my safety, my dignity.
Escape from Gaza is my only hope, but it’s almost impossible without financial help. The cost of evacuation is far beyond my means, and without support, I’m trapped in a warzone with no way out.
I’m reaching out to you now, in the hopes that someone, anyone, can help. I am not asking for luxury. I am asking for a chance—just a chance—to live. A chance to escape this never-ending cycle of fear, destruction, and loss. A chance to rebuild my life somewhere safe, where I can begin again, where I can find hope once more.
Any amount you can give will help me get closer to safety. Even the smallest donation will make a difference—it could be the lifeline I need to survive. If you are unable to donate, please share my story. The more people who hear it, the better the chance that I can find the support I desperately need.
Your kindness and support mean the world to me. You’re not just helping me escape a war; you’re giving me a chance to live, to rebuild, to breathe again.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring.
pairing ᝰ.ᐟ sim jaeyun x reader
genre ᝰ.ᐟ smut
warnings ᝰ.ᐟ fingering, pussy eating, unprotected sex, tit play, daddy kink, etc.
natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ mdni, hate comments will be deleted.
you had always kept to yourself, preferring solitude over pointless small talk and meaningless interactions. socializing never appealed to you—why waste energy caring about people’s lives when they were just as irrelevant as the next? you were content in your own world, detached from the gossip, the hierarchy, the petty dramas that surrounded you.
but if there was one person who could pull you out of your quiet indifference, who could bring out the worst in you, who could make your blood boil with nothing but pure, unfiltered rage—it was sim jaeyun.
the golden boy. the poster child of perfection. the captain of the soccer team and the walking, breathing ego that came with it. jaeyun was obnoxiously charming, devastatingly good-looking, and painfully aware of it. you hated to admit it, but he was infuriatingly hot—the kind of attractive that made it even worse when he opened his mouth and let that cocky, self-assured, utterly insufferable personality spill out.
and yet, no matter how much you tried to ignore him, he was always there—always in your space, always testing your patience, always pushing you toward the edge of absolute hatred.
like right now.
the distant shrill of a whistle cut through the air, a cruel reminder that karma had decided to be your enemy today. all you wanted was a moment of peace to focus on your studies, yet the universe had other plans.
your fingers gripped the edge of your notebook, trying to block out the noise, but curiosity—or perhaps masochism—had your eyes drifting from the pages to the field below.
and there he was.
jaeyun stood in the middle of the field, black compression shirt clinging to his body like a second skin, accentuating every toned muscle, every sharp dip and curve of his figure. his sleeves stretched tight around his biceps, flexing every time he moved, and his broad shoulders carried the kind of natural confidence that made it impossible not to look.
his hands—god, his hands—looked buffer than ever, fingers flexing as he wiped the sweat from his brow. damp strands of hair clung to his forehead, framing his face in a way that was unfairly attractive, his jaw clenched in focus, lips parted as he caught his breath.
and just like that—you hated him even more.
you hated how good he looked. hated how someone so cocky, insufferable, and utterly arrogant managed to crawl his way under your skin with nothing but a smirk and a well-timed stretch. hated how, despite everything, your body reacted to him in ways that made you sick with frustration.
because no matter how much you despised sim jaeyun, there were nights where you couldn’t help yourself.
nights where the memory of his voice—low, smooth, teasing, always dripping with mockery—played in your mind like a broken record. nights where your fingers gripped the sheets, your body aching, your mind clouded with filthy, shameful fantasies about how he’d be in bed.
rough. harsh. demanding.
a man like him wouldn’t settle for anything less than full control, wouldn’t be soft or hesitant, wouldn’t let you get away with your usual bratty attitude. his cock—of course it’d be big, thick and veined, the kind that made your thighs clench just thinking about it. and he’d know exactly how to use it, how to ruin you, how to make you choke on his name the same way he always made you choke on your words when you argued.
there had been too many nights where you’d touched yourself too much, too desperately, too often, chasing a high you could only ever reach by thinking about him. remembering the way he spoke to you, taunted you, tested you. he never even had to do anything overtly sexual—just the sound of his voice, the way he said your name with that condescending smirk, was enough to make your stomach twist with something you refused to name.
maybe it wasn’t hate. maybe it wasn’t even anger. honestly, you didn’t know what the fuck it was.
but you knew you were fucked.
and he knew it too.
because the moment your gaze lingered for too long, the moment you let your eyes betray you, his head snapped up, locking onto yours with deadly precision. his lips curled into a smug, knowing smirk, one that told you he could read your thoughts, see the way your thighs subtly pressed together, feel the heat burning under your skin.
and then he did something unforgivable.
his hands dropped to the hem of his compression shirt, fingers teasing the fabric, dragging it up slowly—too slowly—revealing the toned ridges of his abs, the sharp v-line disappearing beneath his shorts. his skin glistened with sweat, muscles flexing as he wiped a hand over his face, and that was it. that was your breaking point.
your thighs clenched before you could stop them, heat pooling between your legs at the intrusive, unholy thought of grinding against his abs.
but your face? your face remained impassive, indifferent, perfectly annoyed.
except he saw right through you.
his smirk widened, and then—because he was a menace, a fucking devil—he lifted two fingers, forming a V, and flicked his tongue between them, slow and deliberate.
your breath caught, a sharp gasp nearly escaping, but you swallowed it down, forcing yourself to glare.
because this was his favorite game.
he loved to push you, tease you, provoke you, just to see how far he could take it before you snapped. and you? you hated that it worked.
hated that your body betrayed you every time.
hated that instead of looking away in disgust, your mind ran wild with images of that tongue on you, between your legs, ruining you in ways your own fingers never could.
because the truth was—as much as you hated his teasing, hated his smug expressions, hated the way he knew exactly how to get under your skin…
you hated even more that it turned you on.
you couldn’t take it anymore.
the heat pooling in your stomach, the unbearable ache between your legs, the way jaeyun had looked at you like he knew everything you were thinking—it was too much. you needed to get away, needed space, needed somewhere secluded where he wouldn’t find you, wouldn’t push you further, wouldn’t see just how much he was affecting you.
gathering your belongings in a flustered haze, you left the bleachers, forcing yourself to walk, not run, as if that would somehow keep him from noticing your sudden, desperate retreat. the moment you stepped inside the girls’ bathroom, the tension in your shoulders loosened, the silence finally giving you a moment to breathe. it wasn’t ideal, but it was private, safe, far away from him.
or at least, it should have been.
but even as you reopened your notebook, pretending to refocus, your mind was already wandering. drifting back to the way jaeyun had looked standing on that field, his sweat-slicked skin glistening under the sun, his shirt riding up just enough to drive you insane.
you exhaled sharply, pressing your thighs together, feeling the uncomfortable stickiness between them. you couldn’t take it anymore. and though it was a reckless, dangerous thing to do here—on school grounds, in a public bathroom where anyone could walk in—you didn’t care.
your fingers trembled slightly as you set your books aside, reaching down to drag your skirt up, revealing the dampened fabric of your panties—soaked, ruined, completely exposing how badly he had affected you. the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning in your core.
hesitation didn’t exist.
your fingers traced over the damp fabric, pressing down on your clit through your panties, delivering soft, teasing strokes that made your body twitch, thighs clenching involuntarily. your bottom lip was pulled between your teeth, suppressing the moan that threatened to spill out as you circled your fingers again, testing the sensitivity, reveling in the fact that it was all because of him.
never in your life did you think you’d be getting off at school, but you had one person to blame.
and that same person was going to pay for it later.
your mind drifted, unraveling into dark, forbidden thoughts—starting first with his hands, the way they flexed when he wiped sweat off his face, the veins running along his knuckles, his fingers long and thick, so perfectly built for touching, gripping, fucking. you imagined those same fingers curving inside you, pressing deep, dragging along your walls, knowing exactly where to touch, how to break you apart with just his hands.
“fuck…” the word slipped past your lips, soft, breathy, needy. your fingers picked up their pace, rubbing tight circles over your clit, imagining him doing it instead.
then your mind wandered lower.
his thighs—thick, strong, built from years of training—the way they’d feel underneath you, how he’d let you grind down against them, flexing just to make you feel it harder. you could almost hear him in your head, that low, mocking voice filled with amusement as he teased, “is this all you can do, baby? i thought you hated me.”
your breath hitched, your fingers working faster, needier, the tension tightening in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any second.
your mind spiraled deeper into the fantasy of him, completely lost in the intoxicating thought of jaeyun ruining you. his plump lips—the same ones that always curled into a cocky smirk, the ones that taunted you endlessly—now pressed against your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your skin, sucking harshly just to claim you. you could almost feel the bruises he’d leave behind, marking you up just to prove a point, just so everyone could see that you were his.
but then it was his tongue—your mind whirling at the filthy images of him trailing it over every inch of your body, slow and teasing, cruel in the way he’d drag it across your skin with no urgency, knowing you’d squirm under his touch. especially when he finally settled between your legs, hovering, smirking at how soaked you’d be for him.
he wouldn’t give in easily—no, jaeyun would make you beg, make you say his name the way he wanted before rewarding you. you could picture it too vividly, the way he’d flick his tongue over your clit in agonizingly small strokes, just enough to tease but never enough to satisfy, forcing you to writhe beneath him. you’d grip his hair, try to push him closer, but he’d only laugh, his voice thick with amusement as he murmured, “desperate, aren’t you?”
and the worst part? you would be.
but nothing—nothing—would compare to the thought of his cock.
his thick, veined length, the way he’d stretch you open, the way he’d find pleasure in watching you struggle to take him in. your mind twisted into filthier images, ones that made you ache with need, thinking about him forcing himself past your lips, groaning as he watched your mouth stretch around his size, watching you choke, struggle, drool as he shoved himself deeper.
he’d mock you for it, for your watery eyes, for the way you tried to take him so obediently despite the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “what’s wrong, baby?” he’d taunt, “too much for you?” but he wouldn’t let up. he’d hold you there, letting you suffer with your mouth full of him, finding twisted amusement in your helplessness.
“fuck, jaeyun—” the moan escaped before you even realized it, his name falling from your lips with ease, your fingers working faster, deeper, more desperate. the sound of wetness echoed off the bathroom walls, mixing with the heavy, uneven breaths slipping from your lips. but you were too far gone to care.
your mind whirled into new possibilities, wondering—which position would he love most?
doggy?
would he want you on all fours, back arched for him, ass perfectly presented as he pressed his cock deep into you, one hand fisting your hair while the other came down in harsh, stinging slaps on your skin?
the image alone had your body tensing, your core tightening, the thought of him commanding you, ruining you, owning you tipping you dangerously close to the edge.
“shit—!”
your body jerked, pleasure crashing into you, breaking you apart as your orgasm ripped through you, leaving your thighs shaking, your breathing heavy and uneven.
your fingers slowed, the aftershocks pulsing through your body as the last waves of pleasure settled deep in your core.
but as the high faded, as the reality of what just happened sank in, only one thing lingered in your mind.
you needed to get back at him for this.
as the waves of pleasure slowly faded, leaving behind a lingering buzz of sensitivity, you fumbled for the toilet paper, wiping the slick from your fingers with shaky hands. your breathing was still uneven, erratic, the aftershocks of your orgasm pulsing faintly through your body as you reached for your phone. the screen lit up, the time glaring back at you—past 4.
you needed to get out of here. now.
with slightly trembling fingers, you tugged your sticky panties back into place, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably against your sensitive core, a stark reminder of what you had just done. pressing down your skirt with forced nonchalance, you exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself, trying to act as if nothing had happened.
your bag swung over your shoulder, your belongings clutched tightly in your hands as you pushed open the stall door—only to freeze.
your breath caught in your throat.
what the actual fuck.
there he was.
jaeyun.
leaning casually against the sinks, his arms crossed over his chest, his head tilted downward in what looked like bored amusement.
but then—he lifted his gaze.
his smug, infuriating, cocky gaze.
the second he heard the stall door open, his head snapped up, lips curling into a slow, devastating smirk.
his eyes—dark, knowing, utterly unreadable—swept over you in a way that made heat prickle down your spine, that made your heart slam against your ribs.
and in that moment, you knew.
he had been here the entire time.
your entire body locked up, every muscle in your frame going rigid as a sudden, burning heat crept up your neck, flooding your cheeks, settling deep in your stomach. the air in the bathroom felt thick, suffocating, the weight of jaeyun’s gaze alone pinning you in place, rendering you completely, utterly speechless.
your mind scrambled, trying—desperately, frantically—to piece together some kind of snarky response, something sharp and biting, something that would make it seem like you weren’t caught red-handed. but the words never came, vanishing before they could even form, leaving you stranded in the unforgiving silence that stretched between you.
his presence felt all-consuming, taking up every ounce of space, every breath of air, every single thought in your head. and you knew. you fucking knew there was no talking your way out of this.
because you had been caught.
completely. undeniably. irreversibly caught.
jaeyun let out a soft scoff, the sound laced with amusement, disbelief, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed—but was entirely enjoying it. he shifted, his posture straightening, his hands lowering to press against the sink counter, his grip firm, calculated, like he was settling in for a show.
but his eyes—sharp, teasing, deadly—never wavered from yours.
“had fun, baby?”
his voice was smooth, lazy, dripping with pure, unfiltered arrogance.
and it was deadly.
“i-i don’t know what you’re talking about..”
the words tumbled out, weak, unconvincing, betraying you before you could even attempt to sound believable. your voice stammered, breath still uneven, the aftermath of your orgasm clinging to you in ways you couldn’t hide. it was pathetic, really—grasping at the thin veil of denial, desperately gaslighting yourself into believing that maybe, just maybe, jaeyun had heard nothing.
he hadn’t walked in on you touching yourself to the thought of him.
he hadn’t heard the breathless, wrecked moan of his name spill from your lips as your fingers worked you to the edge.
and he sure as hell hadn’t been standing there, watching, listening, waiting, while you fell apart over him in the most shameless way possible.
right?
jaeyun pushed himself off the counter, his movements slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to watch you crumble. his gaze dragged over your face, taking in the way your lips parted slightly, the way your eyes darted away, flustered, panicked, guilty.
he knew. he fucking knew.
his steps were unhurried as he made his way toward you, closing the space effortlessly, like a predator playing with its prey. his hands stayed tucked in his pockets, a move that would have seemed casual if not for the way he subtly angled his hips, discreetly camouflaging what you already knew was there.
“no?” he echoed, voice mocking, smooth, his head tilting slightly, lips curling into something dangerous.
he stopped just close enough, forcing you to look up at him, the space between you nonexistent, suffocating.
“are you sure about that?”
his voice dropped lower, his tone dipping into something dark, knowing, completely unforgiving.
you were fucked.
“i have t-to go…”
your voice barely held steady, coming out in a breathless, shaky whisper, but you forced yourself to move anyway, clutching your bag like it was some kind of lifeline. your body screamed for an escape, your mind racing for any possible way out of this mess, but the second you tried to squeeze past him, it was over.
jaeyun’s hand shot out, gripping your wrist, spinning you effortlessly before your back collided with the cold, unforgiving wall. the force made you gasp, your bag slipping from your fingers, its contents spilling onto the tiled floor, but you barely noticed—not when he was this close.
your breath hitched, sharp and uneven, your chest rising and falling too fast as he closed the distance, his body just inches from yours, pressing into you without actually touching. but the heat radiating off him, the sheer intensity of his presence made it feel like he was everywhere.
his breath—hot, teasing, deliberate—cascaded over your ear, sending a shiver straight down your spine.
“why don’t i make it happen?”
his voice was low, dark, dripping with suggestion, and before you could even process his words, his tongue flicked out—a teasing, feather-light lick against the shell of your ear. your body jolted in response, heat coiling low in your stomach, a betrayal to your own desperation to resist him.
his hands slid down, coming to rest on your waist, fingers firm, possessive, gripping you like he was testing just how badly you wanted to run.
except you didn’t.
you couldn’t.
you never thought—not even in your wildest, filthiest fantasies—that this would actually happen.
you had dreamed of this—had spent too many shameful nights lost in the thought of him, picturing his hands gripping you just like this, his lips ghosting over your skin, his voice laced with the same dark amusement he carried now.
but you never thought it would go this far.
you never thought he’d know.
“i heard it all, y/n. don’t lie to me.”
the words sent a shockwave through you, making your stomach drop, your body locking up instantly.
he was so close now, so unbearably close, his breath ghosting over your cheek, his voice low, smooth, completely in control.
your wide, stunned eyes met his—dark, full of lust, unreadable in the worst way. your lips parted, chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths, every ounce of air in the room suddenly gone.
the tension was suffocating. electric. devastating.
you weren’t even sure which one of you was breathing harder.
but you knew one thing—you couldn’t take it any longer.
your hands shot up, sliding over the firm lines of his neck, your fingers gripping him desperately as your lips crashed into his.
he didn’t hesitate.
his mouth moved against yours just as urgently, his grip on your waist tightening, grounding you, pulling you flush against him.
the kiss was messy, rushed, uncontrolled, tongues colliding, fighting for dominance, a battle neither of you were willing to lose.
jaeyun tilted his head, deepening the kiss, pressing into you with more force, more hunger, his fingers digging into your hips, like he was staking his claim.
his lips broke away from yours, leaving your mouth swollen, tingling, but before you could even whimper in protest, he was already moving—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck.
his tongue flicked out, dragging over your pulse, his lips following with a sharp, lingering suck before his teeth sank into your skin, biting down just enough to make you shiver.
“fuck, jaeyun—”
his name slipped from your lips in a breathless moan, your fingers burying themselves into his damp hair, tugging him closer, harder, as if you could make him devour you faster.
his hands slid under your shirt, rough and impatient, fingertips pressing into your ribs before curling around the fabric.
and then—he ripped it off.
the shirt was discarded somewhere, anywhere, his breath hitching as his hands immediately found your tits, cupping them in his palms, squeezing just enough to make you arch into him.
his thumbs rolled over your nipples, watching in dark fascination as they pebbled under his touch, slick from the heat between your bodies.
“fuck—” he groaned, his thumbs brushing, teasing, rubbing, eyes fixated on the way your tits bounced every time he played with them.
he had thought about this too many times, too many nights spent fisting his cock to the idea of it, imagining your tits wrapped around him, squeezing him, his cock sliding between them while your mouth was open, tongue flicking out to catch his tip.
and now, you were here—real, warm, desperate beneath him.
his hands moved behind you, unclasping your bra in one swift motion, tossing it aside without a second thought.
his gaze devoured you, drinking in the sight of your bare skin, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your nipples hard and begging to be in his mouth.
and then—he dove in.
his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, tongue swirling, flicking over the sensitive bud before his teeth caught it, tugging just enough to make you gasp.
“so fucking pretty,” he muttered against your skin, his breath hot, damp, intoxicating.
he sucked hard, determined to leave bruises behind, claiming you in deep, dark marks that would take days to fade.
his mouth trailed higher, pressing kisses up your collarbone, along the curve of your throat, before descending again, this time onto your other tit.
“mm—fuck, jaeyun—” your head tilted back, eyes fluttering shut, your panties soaked, sticky, unbearable with how badly you needed more.
but he didn’t give in—not yet.
“jaeyun, please—” your voice broke, your fingers tightening in his hair, tugging hard, trying to ground yourself, trying to make him move faster, harder, give you more.
but he only smirked against your skin, his grip on your waist tightening as he murmured, smug and cruel—
“beg better, baby.”
he lowered himself slowly, sinking to his knees before you, his lips dragging over your stomach, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. his hands found the hem of your skirt, fingers gripping the fabric as he pushed it up, letting it bunch around your waist, exposing just how much you needed him.
his hands guided your trembling thighs over his shoulders, positioning you perfectly, his face so close, too close, his breath hot, teasing, fanning against your soaking, ruined panties. his eyes darkened at the sight—your slick glistening through the thin fabric, staining it completely, proof of how wrecked you already were for him.
“fuck—” jaeyun groaned, his fingers hooking into the waistband, yanking harshly, tearing them away in one swift movement. the ripped fabric was tossed somewhere, forgotten, and before you could even process the loss, his hands grabbed at your ass, grounding you, keeping you balanced as his mouth descended upon you.
his tongue darted out, licking one slow, deliberate stripe through your folds before thrusting inside you, his mouth sealing around your dripping heat as if he were starving.
“ah—!” the scream ripped from your throat, your thighs clamping down around his head, your fingers flying to his hair, gripping tight, pulling hard.
but jaeyun didn’t care—he wanted it.
he wanted you to hold him there, wanted you to lose control, wanted to feel your body breaking apart in his hands.
his tongue moved in long, devastating licks, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, flicking, devouring. he moaned into your heat, the vibrations shooting through you, making your body jolt, shudder, tremble.
“fuck—jaeyun, please! please—!”
your hips rocked against his mouth, chasing the friction, chasing relief, and he let you, let you use him, let you grind down on his face, his tongue fucking into you, licking you so deep, so perfectly, every flick of his tongue making the coil in your stomach tighten, tighten, tighten—
his hands squeezed your ass, pressing you even closer, his mouth slurping, messy, loud, and he groaned against you, the sound deep, guttural, pure sin.
“so fucking sweet, baby,” he rasped, his voice thick with desire, his lips wet, glistening, ruined with you.
“gonna eat this pussy till you cry for me.”
your head slammed back against the wall, the dull ache barely registering over the overwhelming pleasure flooding your senses. the way jaeyun’s tongue worked inside you was nothing short of sinful—precise, merciless, devastating. every flick, every deep stroke of his tongue sent you spiraling, your thighs trembling violently atop his shoulders, threatening to give out completely.
your pussy clenched around the relentless movements of his tongue, soaking him, ruining him, making him groan into you like he was addicted to your taste. you could hear it—the obscene, wet sounds of him devouring you, drinking you in, savoring every drop like you were the best thing he’d ever had.
“jaeyun, please—c-can i cum? please, can i—i?”
your pleas turned to whimpers, then to sobs, your voice breaking under the weight of your impending climax, under the unbearable need to let go. your fingers gripped at his hair, desperate, pulling, tugging, trying to ground yourself, trying not to fall apart too soon.
jaeyun only chuckled against your heat, the vibrations sending shockwaves through you, making you twitch, gasp, tremble even harder.
“aww, you wanna cum, baby?” his voice was mocking, condescending, yet dripping with pure filth, his hands digging into your thighs, pressing them harder around his head. “wanna make a mess on daddy’s face?”
the word—that fucking word—sent a shudder through you, a sharp, visceral reaction you couldn’t suppress.
your moan was loud, desperate, wrecked, your body jerking involuntarily, the filthy nickname feeding into every sinful fantasy you’d ever had.
“please, please, daddy—”
your voice cracked, high-pitched, teetering on the edge of ruin, your climax hanging by a thread, so dangerously close, so impossibly unbearable.
jaeyun groaned against you, tongue flicking faster, his hands spreading you open wider, his movements completely unrelenting.
“then cum, baby,” he murmured against your clit, voice dark, commanding, merciless. “make a fucking mess for me.”
the second the words left his lips, you broke.
your orgasm crashed into you with full force, a violent, breathtaking release that tore through every nerve in your body. a loud, uncontrollable scream ripped from your throat, your entire form convulsing, trembling, muscles tightening so hard that for a second, you felt like you might black out from the intensity.
jaeyun groaned, his grip on your ass tightening, fingers digging in as he held you in place, his mouth devouring every drop of your release.
“fuck, baby—”” he rasped, voice thick with pure, ravenous hunger, the vibrations against your clit sending aftershocks ripping through you, making your thighs spasm uncontrollably around his head.
but he wasn’t done.
his tongue licked long, deliberate strokes, lapping up every bit of your arousal, cleaning you up with slow, torturous drags, drinking you in like he never wanted to stop.
“oh fuck—” your moans came in shaky, gasping breaths, your chest heaving aggressively, body still shuddering in the aftermath.
and yet, he still didn’t let up.
his mouth was relentless, his tongue dipping back in, pressing another slow, suffocating lick through your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit just to feel you twitch again.
but before the overstimulation could truly wreck you, he finally lifted himself off you, his face slick with your release, his lips glistening, wet, ruined.
and yet, he didn’t wipe it away.
he licked his lips—slow, deliberate, greedy.
“so fucking good, baby.”
his voice was hoarse, rough, completely wrecked.
and his cock—fuck, his cock was aching.
his hunger for you was insatiable, he could spend hours between your thighs, ruining you over and over with his tongue alone, but the ache in his pants was now painful, throbbing, unbearable.
he wanted to feel you. all of you.
finally.
his hands moved with ease, picking you up effortlessly, his strength barely faltering as he carried you off his shoulders, setting you down onto the cool, porcelain sink.
his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart just enough to take in the mess he made of you.
his cock twitched in his shorts, straining painfully, the evidence of his arousal obvious in the thick wet patch covering the front of his sweats.
he didn’t waste another second.
with one hand, he dragged his shorts down, his boxers following, both pieces of clothing pooling at his ankles as he finally freed himself.
and fuck—your assumption had been right.
he was huge.
his cock stood heavy, thick, angry, his veins prominent, his slit already leaking precum, twitching with need as he gripped himself at the base, giving himself a few rough pumps.
“you’re doing so fucking good for me, baby,” his voice was pure sin, filled with dark satisfaction as he fisted himself, teasing his tip against your soaked, pulsating entrance. “such a good fucking girl.”
your body shuddered, still raw, overstimulated, desperate, but you wanted him more than anything.
“are you gonna take me well, baby?” he murmured, his voice taunting, teasing, his cock dragging along your folds, smearing his precum over your entrance. “gonna show daddy just how fucking desperate you are for his cock?”
your only response was a soft, wrecked whimper, your body too dazed, too lost in the haze of pleasure to form a coherent thought.
but jaeyun wasn’t feeling patient.
one hand slid up to your breast, squeezing it harshly, his fingers pinching your nipple as he finally pushed in.
the stretch was instant, breathtaking, overwhelming.
your walls clamped around him, your body struggling to take his sheer size, your head tilting back, mouth falling open in a silent scream as he pushed deeper, filling you inch by inch.
“oh fuck, baby—” his groan was deep, strained, broken, his grip on your breast tightening, fingers digging into your skin as he bottomed out completely.
his cock throbbed inside you, buried to the hilt, your tight walls gripping him so perfectly, so sinfully, so impossibly tight.
“shit—” he gritted out, his jaw clenching as he held still, letting you adjust, reveling in the way your body wrapped around him, sucked him in.
he had waited for this.
and now, he was going to ruin you.
his other hand moved to your neglected breast, fingers gripping, kneading, squeezing with just enough force to make your back arch deeper, a series of soft, low grunts escaping his lips as he drank in the sight of you.
“gonna fucking ruin you…” his voice was husky, dark, dripping with sin, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear before he snapped his hips forward.
“i’ll have you begging for more, baby.”
and then—he slammed into you.
his thrusts were merciless, brutal, unrelenting, each one hitting deeper, harder, sharper, the sheer force making your entire body jolt against the sink. your fingers desperately clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving burning, red trails that only made him groan louder.
“fuck—” your eyes rolled back, pleasure crashing over you as he found your sweet spot instantly, his cock pushing into you so deep, so perfectly, stretching you so good that your thighs trembled violently, your breath coming in shaky, uneven gasps.
and then—his hands left your tits.
only to come slamming down onto your skin.
hard.
the sharp sting of his palm meeting your flesh made your body jolt, your head tilting back as a loud, broken scream spilled from your lips.
“fuck, daddy!”
your cry echoed in the small space, your hands flying up, searching for something—anything—to hold onto as the pleasure overwhelmed you.
your fingers latched onto his broad back, nails raking down the sculpted muscles, leaving deep, red scratches that only fueled him further.
“fuuuck—” jaeyun groaned, voice thick, slurred, completely wrecked.
his head tilted back, his jaw clenched, his stomach flexing beautifully, sweat dripping down his abs as he pounded into you harder, the force of it rocking the sink beneath you.
“this pussy—taking me so fucking well—”
his words were half-spoken, half-moan, his voice drenched in pleasure, his hips never faltering, never slowing.
“you love this fucking dick, don’t you, baby?”
his hands gripped your thighs, spreading them even wider, pushing himself even deeper, watching as your body shuddered beneath him, completely ruined, completely his.
“fuck yes! yes!”
your scream echoed through the small space, bouncing off the bathroom walls as your body convulsed, every muscle tightening, your core clenching around him like a vice. each ruthless, punishing thrust sent you spiraling closer, the coil in your stomach winding tighter, tighter—
“gonna cum on my dick, baby?”
jaeyun’s voice was thick, strained, completely wrecked, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. his grip tightened around your legs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he lifted them higher, pushing them closer to the mirror behind you.
“oh—s-shit!”
your head snapped back, a scream ripping from your throat as his fingers descended, pressing against your swollen, overstimulated clit, flicking harsh, precise strokes over the bundle of nerves.
“wet my dick, baby,” he groaned, his voice hoarse, shaking, desperate.
his cock twitched violently, the feeling of your tight, spasming walls squeezing around him, sucking him in, milking him for everything he had sending him dangerously close to the edge.
you could barely breathe—barely think—your body thrashing, pleasure swallowing you whole as the dam finally, violently shattered.
“fuck, jaeyun—!”
your hands shot down, gripping your own thighs, holding them open, wide, vulnerable, and then—you snapped.
your orgasm crashed into you like a violent wave, knocking the air from your lungs as liquid pleasure gushed out of you, squirting harshly, uncontrollably against jaeyun’s lower stomach and soaking his cock.
“oh, fuck—yeah, baby—fuck!”
his moan was loud, shameless, raw, his rhythm stuttering, his hips snapping forward in a series of fast, erratic thrusts.
his cock throbbed aggressively, the feeling of your release covering him, dripping down his abs, your walls still fluttering around him sending him spiraling right after you.
“fuuuck—” he gasped, his voice wrecked, trembling as his head fell forward, his grip on your thighs turning bruising.
and then—he came.
thick, hot ropes of cum spurted deep inside you, coating your walls, filling you completely, stuffing you full, each pulse flooding you even more.
his hips jerked in tiny, shallow thrusts, riding out the last waves of his climax, his chest heaving, his body shuddering, both of you a mess of tangled limbs, hot skin, and ruined breaths.
but when he finally pulled out, a soft whimper of protest left your lips, your walls clenching around nothing, already missing the stretch of him inside you.
his low, satisfied groan sent another shiver down your spine as he watched, completely enthralled, entirely mesmerized, as his cum spilled out of you, thick and messy, dripping down your thighs.
“fuck, baby—look at that.”
his fingers traced over your wrecked entrance, pushing some of the cum back inside, watching it slowly ooze out again, a dark smirk curling on his lips.
you were completely spent, body trembling, breath still unsteady, but in the back of your mind, one thing became clear.
maybe—just maybe—your hate for him had never been real to begin with.
maybe it had always been masked by something deeper, something filthier, something much, much worse.
and now?
it had been completely, irrevocably fulfilled.
natty’s notes ᝰ.ᐟ i hope you all liked it !!
1.8k NOTES WHAT OMG 😖🫶🏼
pairing: virgin!lee heeseung x experienced fem!reader
synopsis: you and heeseung are the school’s golden pair — popular, admired, and constantly shipped. the only problem? you can’t stand him. from competing on exams to gym class, you’re always neck and neck, and no one gets under your skin like he does. but while you see a rival, he sees the love of his life. when you overhear a hushed conversation that breaks you, will heeseung be able to win you back?
featuring: all of enha, winter from aespa, yuqi from (g)i-dle, and keeho from p1h
genre: angst... slow burn, some fluff, kissing, skinship, SMUTTTT, college au, first love trope?? sorta? one sided enemies to lovers
warnings: smut so mdni (18+), alcohol consumption, vandalizing property, Sexual Tension, everyone is around the same age (21-23), lowercase intended <3
playlist: you broke me first by tate mcrae & what was i made for — billie eilish
(smut warnings under cut!)
wc: 13.271k
a/n: first fic is here! plsplspls leave feedback as anything helps!! was listening to you broke me first and got inspo for a kinda angsty fic pls bare with me :3 anyways! enjoy the read <3<3
smut content: mention of toys (but no use), fingering, squirting, unprotected sex (not for you), dry humping, switch! hee and reader, riding, mating press, too much kissing, masturbation (m.), breeding kink, slight dacryphilia, oral (m. & f.), deepthroating, belly bulge, creampie, size kinkish, big dick! hee, not much aftercare but it's like fluffy, y/n has a “reputation” that she gets around, VIRGIN HEESEUNG (but no one knows…) i think thats it? lmk if i missed anything ◡̈
not proofread!
lee. fucking. heeseung. you hate him. you can't stand him. he always knows what to say just to piss you off. you might be wondering, "why don't you just try to avoid him?" the issue is... you do. you try with ALL your power but to no avail, he's in the same friend group as you.
your friends, knowing you hate him, decided to combine friend groups to see if you and him could mend things. spoiler alert: it failed miserably.
you felt safe in your small circle with keeho (the man you deemed to be your biological older brother — you aren't related), yuqi (your junior high best friend), and winter (your literal wife).
you guys were well known around the entire city of seoul for being the "it group" — always partying, hooking up, and somehow still acing every class (while nursing massive hangovers).
however, heeseung's friend group consisted of the golden boys in decelis university: park jongseong (known as jay, he hates his given name), sim jaeyun (known as the australian transfer student, jake), park sunghoon (the insanely hot figure skater), kim sunoo (the bubbliest person you've ever met), yang jungwon (the boy with feline features, however you've made a special note to never piss him off cause he has a black belt), and nishimura riki (known as ni-ki because he wanted to be different).
you loved riki. he was like your younger brother — chaotic, blunt, and always three steps ahead of everyone. you’d even joked once that if you had to suffer heeseung’s presence, at least you got riki out of it.
unfortunately, riki had the worst habit of instigating chaos.
“truth or dare?” he asked one friday night, grinning like he already had your life planned out. everyone was crammed into jay’s ridiculously large basement, music low, snacks half eaten, and bodies sprawled on beanbags and plush carpet.
you should’ve said “truth.” you knew you should’ve. but you weren’t a coward.
“dare,” you answered, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
the group erupted in ooooh's in perfect synchronicity.
riki’s grin only widened. “i dare you to sit on heeseung’s lap for five minutes.”
you almost lunged across the room.
“riki,” you hissed, “you are so dead.”
he just wiggled his brows suggestively. “i’m a baby. you wouldn’t hurt me.”
the worst part? he was right.
you looked over at heeseung, who was watching you like a cat watching a cornered mouse — lazy smirk, fingers casually drumming against his knee. “scared, sweetheart?”
“i’ll kill you in your sleep,” you said sweetly as you stalked over and dropped yourself into his lap like he was made of cardboard and air.
he oofed, not because you were heavy, but because he wasn’t expecting you to actually do it.
“wow,” he murmured, lips near your ear. “you smell like citrus and bad decisions.”
you resisted the urge to elbow him in the ribs.
five minutes. you just had to survive five minutes.
but then his hands casually settled on your waist, and you felt it — the spark. the electric, traitorous, goddamn spark that told you this was a very, very bad idea.
because maybe, just maybe, your hatred wasn’t as pure as you thought- no. what are you thinking??? you immediately shook the feeling that was buzzing inside you and blamed it on the alcohol swimming in your blood.
you definitely. hated heeseung. yup, yeah, you really did.
heeseung on the other hand? he was just praying to every god he could think of that you couldn't feel how sweaty his palms were getting.
because he was panicking. full blown, internal screaming, oh-no-she’s-sitting-on-me-and-she’s-warm kind of panicking. he hadn't expected you to actually follow through on your usual threats, much less practically straddle him in front of your mutual friends.
but now? now he was just trying to not pass out from the sheer force of your perfume and presence and the weight of years of unresolved tension that sat heavier than you ever could.
"you're sweating," you said flatly, side eyeing him with that expression that usually meant murder or mockery — or both. "you good?"
"totally," he croaked. "i always nearly die when beautiful people threaten me. it's, like, my thing."
you blinked once. twice.
"did you just call me beautiful?"
"i said what i said," he muttered, then immediately regretted everything.
your brows lifted in slow, dangerous amusement. "you feeling okay, heeseung? you hitting on me while i’m threatening you?”
“wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, almost too quiet for you to hear.
and there it was again. the spark. like a lighter flicked too close to your frayed nerves.
you looked away, choosing to focus on literally anything else, but his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, grounding you, almost daring you to acknowledge it.
“how much longer do i have to sit on this assholes lap?” you questioned under your breath, reminding yourself, reminding him, that this was temporary.
"4 minutes!" jake sang back as his accented voice rang in your ears. fuck, it's only been one minute? you thought to yourself... until he spoke.
“i could ruin us in three,” he whispered, warm breath tickling your ear. he was so close you could practically feel his labored breathing against your back. you craned your neck to the side so you could look him in the eyes, "what did you just say???" heeseung was at a loss for words — his brain only drawing blanks.
did he say what he thought he said in his head out loud? impossible. he's hidden it so well, no one in your guys' shared friend group had even suspected his overbearing attraction towards you.
so heeseung did the only thing he could think of. he gulped.
just as your gaze dropped to his adams apple, sunghoon cleared his throat, reducing the fiery tension between you two to reduce to a simmer. "time's up" he stated. and just like that, the warmth you once shared was gone.
as the game progressed, the most interesting things to occur were jake kissing sunghoon on the cheek, riki vandalizing an old alley way that never saw the sun, and winter lady-and-the-tramping a twizzler with keeho.
you and heeseung never dared to even spare a glance in each other's direction for the rest of the night.
───
you laid awake, staring at the ceiling in jay's basement while trying to get comfy on the leather couch that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe. you couldn't sleep. and the reason? none other than your self-proclaimed arch nemesis: lee heeseung.
your friend groups slept on different floors to prevent you and heeseung arguing and waking up the entire house. you slowly got up, attempting and (barely) succeeding to not step on a sleeping figure sprawled on the floor.
as you walk up the stairs from the basement, you hear two people whisper shouting at each other.
you glance at the time displayed on your phone.
a measly 3:16 am stared brightly at you. who's awake at this hour?? as you step closer to the hushed voices, you think you can make out the unmistakeable deepness of riki's voice and heeseung's annoying(ly hot) whispers, tinged with sleep.
"why the fuck would you dare HER of all people to sit on MY lap????" heeseung shouts quietly, clearly frustrated. riki bursts into a fit of giggles. "dude, don't tell me you feel something for her, don't you guys like hate each other?" he says between snide little chuckles.
heeseung freezes. there's no way riki really caught on to what he was supposed to never let slip through the cracks... right?! so he musters up all the dignity he has left and defensively grunts a series of defenses "nowhywouldieverseeherlikethatsheisn'tmytypeandithinkshe'sgross"
riki blankly stares back at heeseung's panicking eyes, "okayyy," he drags the word out, "you don't need to put her down like that, she's like my older sister, dude" riki spits back.
your lips twitch in a small smile, just for a second. just long enough for riki to catch your eyes peeking behind the corner. he nods once, subtle and solid. always in your corner.
but the comfort dies as soon as heeseung opens his mouth.
"i could never love someone like her."
and the world stops.
he says it so casually. almost like it’s a joke. like it's just another throwaway comment tossed between drinks and half-meant insults. but it lands with the weight of something cruelly true — or at least, something you believe he means.
you feel the breath hitch in your throat. just once.
riki's gaze is drawn to your frozen frame. and that's when everything freezes. heeseung whips around to see you standing there. eyes blown and glossy.
riki shifts, but he doesn’t move to try and console you — he knows better. knows this is something that'll bruise. something you need time to process, alone.
you bite back tears. “right,” you say, quietly. “of course.”
heeseung’s expression flickers — confusion, regret, something else — but you’ve already masked the pain. emotion draining from your face like you’ve trained for it. like it’s a sport. like if you stop moving, the hurt will catch up.
“i didn’t mean it like that,” he says, a little too late, a little too soft.
you readjust your posture, fixing your shirt.
“you meant it exactly like that,” you reply, and it’s not even bitter. it’s worse. numb.
riki’s there before heeseung can say anything else. standing between you like a wall. like a shield.
“walk away,” he tells you gently, and you do.
because if you stay, you might ask him why not. and you’re not sure your heart could take the answer.
riki turns back to heeseung, flames he's never seen before burning in the younger boys irises that are normally filled with mischief and teasing glints. but all of a sudden none of that is there anymore. it's pure, unfiltered anger. raw emotion.
heeseung wants him to yell at him. say something, anything. but nothing comes. riki just walks upstairs like he doesn't even know who heeseung is anymore.
and maybe he doesn't.
───
the next morning, when heeseung wakes up, it's almost peaceful. until rain begins to tip tap on the roof and everything comes crashing down. his chest is tight and immediately swells with regret. so much he thinks it'll spill out of him just like the rain outside.
he needs to talk to you. make sure you're okay. but he knows he's the last person you want to see right now. still, he has to try
as he descends down the stairs, he doesn't smell the usual feast jay would prepare them: eggs, bacon, toast, orange juice and cereal for jake since he claims, "it doesn't hurt his tummy," (his words).
he actually doesn't see jake. nor sunghoon, sunoo, jungwon, jay, winter, yuqi, or keeho.
after last nights events, he expected not to see riki as he was probably with you.
how did he go from having the girl of his dreams sitting on his lap, to making her hate him even more?
it's simple, really: he fucked up.
he moves through the house like a ghost — rooms too quiet, air too still. no laughter, no music playing off someone’s phone. just him and the rain.
the basement still has the blanket you’d curled up with last night. your mug — half full. he picks it up, and it’s cold. like him.
he tries to call riki. no answer.
he tries to call you.
it goes straight to voicemail.
he types out a text. deletes it. tries again.
“i didn’t mean what i said. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i'm sorry, y/n”
he stares at it. sends it.
and immediately regrets it. because what if you never answer?
as he packs up all his belongings, ready for the uncomfortable drive home, someone enters the house.
heeseung's heart rate picks up. what if it's you? he bolts down the stairs and is ultimately disappointed when he's met with a very disapproving jay.
they stand across from one another, staring into each others eyes.
heeseung's the first to break. he collapses on the bar stool at the counter and drops his head into his hands like it weighs a ton.
jay just sighs and sits down next to his friend.
"is she okay?" heeseung mumbles, his face buried in his hands.
jay’s jaw tightens. "why do you care?" he snaps. "you sure as hell didn’t last night when you said you could never love someone like her."
the words hit hard — harder than jay intended — and heeseung shatters.
the sobs break out of him like a dam giving way, loud and raw. tears stream down his face, and the sound of it makes jay flinch, caught off guard by how real the pain is. how broken heeseung suddenly looks.
still, jay moves without thinking, reaching out and rubbing slow circles on his friend’s back. it doesn’t fix anything, but it softens the edges of the moment.
they sit there in silence, the storm outside echoing the one inside, as heeseung cries himself hoarse.
by the time he’s able to breathe steadily again, nearly an hour has passed. his eyes are red, his voice barely there. he lifts his head and meets jay’s gaze; tired looking into just as tired.
neither of them says much. there’s no need.
finally, jay sighs and stands. “go grab your stuff,” he says quietly. “you’re in no shape to drive. i’ll take you home.”
heeseung doesn’t argue.
because for once, he knows jay’s right.
───
your phone dings.
dni: i didn't mean what i said. i didn't mean to hurt you. i'm sorry, y/n
you stare at your phone. gaze void of emotion. you've cried out everything you could muster.
you don't even know why heeseung's words echo in your head.
were you really that intolerable to be around? surely you weren't. all of heeseung's friends enjoyed hanging out with you and same with your little group.
so why did hearing your supposed enemy say he could never love someone like you hurt so bad?
you suppose you need to distract yourself from thinking that heeseung's words have any sort of impact on you. and that's when your door swings open. riki, yuqi, winter, keeho, sunghoon, jake, sunoo, and jungwon walk into your apartment with food, video games, board games, coloring books, skincare — everything you needed at the moment.
a break.
a break from your spiraling thoughts and endless questions you didn't want answered.
there's a knock at the door, jay comes in after he dropped heeseung off, with a freshly made cake, red velvet. your favorite.
you don’t move at first.
the warmth of your friends floods the apartment — laughter, chatter, the familiar rustle of takeout bags and the buzz of game controllers syncing. but it feels distant, like you’re underwater, watching from behind a thick pane of glass.
yuqi wraps her arms around you from behind, cheek resting on your shoulder. “we got your favorite pork buns,” she says softly.
you nod. you don’t trust your voice.
riki’s the one who notices your phone still clutched in your hand. screen glowing. that message. his message.
he doesn’t say anything, but he takes the phone from you gently, pressing the lock button, letting the screen fade to black. and you’re grateful. because if you kept staring at it, you might’ve started crying again, and you didn’t think you had anything left in you.
“movie?” sunghoon offers, holding up a stack of dvd's none of you ever returned to the library.
“coloring?” sunoo chirps, already spreading out gel pens across your coffee table.
“face masks?” winter insists, already tearing them open.
you let them distract you. you let them love you in the only way they know how — loudly, messily, unconditionally.
there’s a moment, in the middle of the chaos, when keeho makes a stupid joke and jungwon snorts soda out of his nose, that you laugh. actually laugh.
and then it hits you like whiplash — how easily heeseung could’ve been here. how almost close you came to letting yourself believe there was something soft behind his smirks and eye rolls. how you’d dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, the tension between you wasn’t just one-sided delusion.
but then he said it. “i could never love someone like her.”
and even with the people you love surrounding you, something in your chest hurts. like a bruise that won’t stop blooming.
later, after everyone’s settled into pillows and half-finished coloring pages, riki sits beside you. he doesn’t speak for a long time.
then, quietly, “you don’t have to pretend around me.”
and that’s when your lip trembles. just slightly.
“i don’t know why it hurts this much,” you whisper. “i knew he hated me. i knew. so why do i feel so broken?"
“he didn’t have to say it like that,” riki replies, voice firm. “he didn’t have to break something just because he couldn’t admit he wanted to hold it.”
you nod, finally letting a single tear trail down your cheek. riki wipes it away before it can fall too far.
he squeezes your hand.
“he messed up,” he says. “that’s on him. not you.”
you hold onto that — his words, their presence, the comfort of being chosen and cared for.
and for the first time since last night, you breathe. not easily. not painlessly. but it’s a start.
───
heeseung didn't know how hard it would be to try and get any information about you.
how you were doing, if you were okay. anything
your mutual friends? after hearing how massive he fucked up, they sided with you.
sure, jay, jake, sunghoon, sunoo, and jungwon would text him and hang out with him occasionally, but they wouldn't utter a word about you. most of the time heeseung saw them, it would be for awkward movie nights or when they would game together when none of them could sleep.
when he was alone, his mind ached, his chest twisted in pain, but mostly... his body ached.
he tried to stop it, he knew it was wrong.
but when you sat on his lap, something in him shifted.
sure he knew you were pretty (breathtakingly stunning), but he never imagined something he thought about constantly would ever become reality.
he thought back to those 5 minutes. the tension. surely it couldn't have just been made up in his head, right?
the way your entire body tensed when his hands rested on your hips. normally he wouldn't have touched you, but you were shifting and he needed to stop his growing problem before you noticed.
and thankfully it worked.
however, he was already hard as a brick.
his breath hitched as he remembered the look in your eyes — uncertain, but not scared. curious, maybe? or was he projecting again?
he swallowed hard, his hands now clenched at his sides like if he let them loose, they’d betray him again.
five minutes. that’s all it was. but it looped in his head like a damn broken record.
you hadn’t said a word. but your thighs had tensed. and when he shifted, trying to regain his composure, you hadn't moved away — not immediately, anyway.
maybe it meant nothing. maybe you hadn’t even noticed the way his breath had gone shallow or the way he was holding back like his life depended on it.
but god, his body remembered.
he shifted in his bed now, alone, frustrated, angry at himself. this wasn’t who he was supposed to be. he wasn’t supposed to want this — to want you — not like this. not in silence, not in secrecy, not in pain.
but the damage was already done.
and the worst part?
he wasn’t sure he even wanted to stop anymore.
as he stared at his chase atlantic posters, he thought to himself. any guy would get hard when a pretty girl sits on his lap, right? surely it isn't just because he's a pathetic virgin who's had to lie to his entire friend group about how he "gets around."
soon enough, his thoughts were interrupted by the rapidly increasing ache between his legs.
his hands trembled slightly as they hovered over the tent in his shorts. his breathing was shallow, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as if he were caught in some fever dream he didn’t want to wake up from.
he hated how much he needed this.
how much he needed you.
with a low, strangled groan, he finally gave in, palming himself over the thin fabric. the relief was immediate, but it wasn’t enough — it never was. not when the ache ran deeper than just skin. not when every nerve in his body was screaming for more.
he slipped his hand beneath his waistband, hissing through clenched teeth as his fingers wrapped around his thick length, already twitching with need. he was so hard it hurt, painfully stiff and dripping at the tip, slicking his palm almost instantly.
your name burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it back.
he couldn’t say it. shouldn’t say it.
but in his head, it echoed over and over again. your laugh. your voice. the way you looked at him — or didn’t. the way you moved. god, he remembered everything. he was haunted by it.
he shut his eyes tight and let his hand move — slow at first, starting at his base and dragging his fingers up each vein decorating the sides. his patience wore out quicker than he'd ever admit, starting to move up his length, then down with just enough pressure to make his thighs twitch. he bit his lip, hard, trying to hold in the sounds. but as the memory of you shifting in his lap played behind his eyelids like a cruel fantasy, a soft whimper escaped.
he was losing it.
desperation clawed at him with every stroke, every flex of his hand. his hips lifted off the mattress as his muscles tensed. he imagined your fingers replacing his, your body hovering over his, your breath against his neck.
“please,” he gasped into the dark — not even sure what he was begging for. forgiveness? permission? you?
he pumped harder now, faster, chasing that high like it would save him. his other hand gripped the sheets, knuckles white. he was right on the edge, falling apart with nothing but the echo of your presence and the throb of need coiled deep in his belly.
“i need — fuck, i need you,” he moaned, broken and breathless. his body was hot, slick with sweat, twitching under his own touch.
he could feel it. the band threatening to snap at any moment.
he swirled his fingers around his tip, hitting that spot that made his vision go white. he was close.
all it took to unravel him was an image of you, mouth replacing his hand. trying to fit as much of him into your mouth while he just laid there and took it.
eventually the thought was too much, his seed spilled over his stomach in thick, messy ropes, his fist slowing only when the aftershocks wracked his frame like a wave of guilt and pleasure colliding all at once.
he laid there for a moment, chest heaving, skin flushed and sticky.
and then it hit him.
he still wasn’t satisfied.
because it wasn’t your touch. it wasn’t your voice, your kiss, your heat. it was just his hand and a fantasy he couldn't let go of.
and no matter how many times he did this, no matter how many times he used the memory of you…
it was never going to be enough.
───
you’ve held it together for as long as you could — smiled through movie nights, laughed at keeho’s stupid impressions, even ate something other than ramen yesterday. but it’s all surface level. the moment you're alone again, the cracks split wide open.
there you are, sitting on your couch, drowning in your thoughts.
the faint glow of the streetlamp filters through the windows, further highlighting the text message staring back at you
“i didn’t mean it.”
it replays in your head over and over like a broken record until your vision starts to blur. tears flood your waterline but you make no effort to stop them.
you don’t sob. you just sit there, hurting so quietly it’s almost peaceful.
until it isn’t.
your lip trembles slightly, then it all comes pouring out.
“why? why did you say that? what the fuck. did i do to deserve those words?”
riki hears your quiet words from the bathroom. he comes rushing out, empathy and sadness twirling in his eyes.
“hey, hey, hey, talk to me y/n. yell at me if you need to, yeah?” he says. voice barely above a whisper. all you can choke out is a tiny “no, none of this is your fault.”
riki sits next to you, holding you, trying to piece you back together as if he were the one who broke you.
disrupting the mellow silence lingering in your apartment, there’s a knock at the door.
not wanting the worst case scenario, you answering the door to heeseung, riki gets up and makes his way to where the sound came from.
to both of your dismay, a tired heeseung stands in the doorway.
his hair is messy, dark bags under his usually teasing eyes, looking like he hasn’t slept in days.
he freezes when he sees you. your puffy eyes, shaking hands, the way you curl in on yourself like you’re trying to disappear.
riki steps in front of you, but you give him the signal to back down. you and heeseung can handle this alone. what’s another argument anyways?
as riki walks away, heeseung starts slowly “yn…”
you look at him. and no matter how hard you could have tried, nothing could have stopped you from snapping at him.
“why are you here?” “i had to see you. i had to say–” “you already said enough, heeseung.”
god. the way you say his name. all he’s thought about since you last saw each other was you saying his name. and now, he doesn’t wanna hear it ever again.
he opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.
“do you know what it felt like to hear you say i wasn’t lovable? that someone like me could never be enough for you?”
as if you could read his mind, you shake your head, dismissing whatever he was about to spit out.
with every last ounce of energy you can gather, you scream. “you don’t get to feel sorry now. you made your choice the other night. i knew we had a mutual hatred, or at least some twisted distaste, but i never even thought about saying something like that to you.”
he doesn’t respond right away. just stands there, frozen. then you hear it. soft sniffles. ragged breathing. sobs.
he breaks.
because this is the first time he gets it. really, truly understands what he did. what he said. what it cost you.
“i’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice cracked and barely audible. “truly. what i said last week… i didn’t mean it. even thinking it broke me.”
you stare at him for a long, quiet second. and then you say it — flat, but shaking.
“you broke me first, heeseung.”
his breath catches. your words land like a punch to the gut, because they’re the truth. maybe the first truth spoken between you in a long time.
heeseung, who’s always so calm. so composed. the one who rolls his eyes at everything and makes everything feel like a joke. he’s crumbling in front of you now. not fighting. not defending. just falling apart.
and then it hits you. maybe he’s always been like this.
watching you. listening. never the first to strike, only ever the one to react. maybe he was never the villain in this story.
your breath hitches. maybe, just maybe, you were wrong.
you don’t know why the realization crashes down now. maybe it’s the sound of his sobs. maybe it’s the way the silence has more weight than anything he’s ever said. but something inside you shifts.
and for the first time, you see him — not as the enemy. but as the boy who let you hate him, because he didn’t know how to ask for anything else.
you replay every argument like a tape stuck on rewind. you were always the one who started it.
the snide comments. the sideways glances. the venom you dressed up as jokes.
heeseung never really fought back. he always matched your energy, sure, but he never escalated it. never crossed a line. not until that night.
your chest tightens. you realize you don’t even remember what the first fight was about. some hallway bump? a misunderstood glance? maybe it was never about anything. maybe it was just you, projecting every piece of your brokenness onto the only person who saw through it and stayed.
god, had he always stayed?
you remember in elementary school, how he used to bring you extra snacks when you forgot lunch. how he gave you his hoodie that one time you were shivering during morning assembly, even after you’d spent the entire week roasting him in front of your friends.
you remember the way his gaze always lingered—not in a way that felt invasive, but like he was always checking. watching over you without saying a word.
and now here he is. slumped into his knees. back pressed against the wall, crying over you.
you were so busy building walls with your bitterness that you didn’t notice it was slowly breaking him.
the quiet way he tried to reach over them.
you sink to the floor across from him, not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the weight of everything between you.
for a long moment, you don’t speak. neither does he. you just breathe in the silence together — like it’s the only language you both understand.
“i didn’t know how to stop hating you,” you whisper, voice catching. “because if i stopped… i think i would’ve started needing you.”
heeseung lifts his head. eyes red, lashes wet.
“i already did,” he says. “i never stopped.”
your heart fractures in a way that doesn’t feel sharp, just tired. heavy.
“i don’t know what to do with that,” you admit.
“you don’t have to do anything,” he murmurs. “not tonight.”
you nod. once. then you help him get up. both your legs feel numb, but you walk him towards the door. your hand rests on the handle, taking a second to look up at him. really look at him, and you’re tempted to say something.
but instead, you give him the quietest thing you can offer: a small, broken sort of smile. not quite forgiveness. not quite goodbye.
then, he steps out into the night. and just like that, the quietness of everything settling in takes over. no more lies. just the truth.
as you’re deep in thought, riki walks in with two mugs of hot chocolate — extra marshmallows, your favorite.
-ˏˋ⋆ 3 years ago ⋆ˊˎ-
it’s a chilly summer night. you and riki are sprawled out on the roof of his parents' house, the shingles warm beneath your backs from the day’s lingering sun. crickets hum below. the stars blink overhead, careless and constant.
you shift slightly, seeking warmth, and without a word, riki lifts his arm. you curl into the space beside him, head on his shoulder, fingers tucked into the sleeve of his hoodie. his arm settles around you like it belongs there.
“do you think we’ll ever feel like this again?” you murmur. “peaceful. like nothing’s wrong.”
he hums low in his chest. “you mean without chaos or boys who don’t deserve you?”
you let out a breath, half a laugh. “exactly.”
there’s a pause, the kind that feels thick with unspoken things.
riki’s voice is soft when he finally speaks. “i think… the people who make you feel heavy, like you're constantly questioning yourself, that’s not love, y/n. that’s something else.”
you turn your face slightly to look up at him. he’s gazing at the stars like he’s afraid of admitting he craves the one thing he’s always sworn to never care about.
“love should never hurt,” he says, quieter this time. “not the kind that stays.”
you don’t say anything right away. you’re too busy memorizing the way the night folds around his words. the way he’s always been a comfort for you, the one to pick you up when you’re falling.
and in that moment, you believe him. you really do.
you nod once. “then i hope… when it’s my turn, it feels like this. safe.”
riki swallows. “me too.”
-ˏˋ⋆ present time ⋆ˊˎ-
and now, back in your bedroom, the silence left in heeseung’s absence is deafening.
your gaze flicks toward the window, rain still threading down the glass like tear tracks. your mind lingers on that rooftop — the stars, the safety, the version of you who still believed in soft things.
before all the hook-ups, parties, and one-sided confessions.
you pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders and whisper. either to riki or yourself, you don’t know.
“you said love should never hurt. i think heeseung missed that memo.”
and god, how you wish you could go back to that night — before the spiral, before the ache.
before the boy who made you feel like an afterthought.
before you let yourself fall over someone you thought you didn’t care about.
riki leaves after making sure you’re alright, mumbling something about dance practice.
and again, it’s just you. in the quiet.
then, almost without thinking, you rip a blank piece of paper out of your journal.
you don’t plan it. it’s just instinct — fingers gripping your pen, waiting for permission your heart hasn’t quite given. but then you start writing.
dear heeseung,
i hated you before i knew how badly i could want you. maybe that’s where it all went wrong. because at some point, i stopped seeing you as the boy who annoyed me and started seeing you as someone i wanted to understand. as someone i wanted to look at me and see me. and for a while, i thought maybe you did. i thought maybe the way you pulled me into your lap, the way you whispered near my ear, the way your hand rested on my waist — i thought maybe it meant something. i thought i was stupid for hating you. turns out i was just stupid for hoping. you said you could never love someone like me. and god, that broke something in me i didn’t know was still whole. because even when i told myself i hated you, there was always that small, traitorous part of me that wondered: what if he doesn’t hate me back? what if it’s more? but it wasn’t. and now i can’t unhear it. you probably didn’t even mean it — not in the way it came out. maybe it was fear, or pressure, or ego. but it doesn’t matter, does it? words don’t get erased just because we didn’t mean them. they echo. and yours… yours are still echoing inside me like a song i can’t shut off. i don’t think i’m mad at you anymore. i think i’m mad at myself. for letting you get close. for not guarding the parts of me i only let out in small doses. for thinking i was different to you. i wish you hadn’t said it. but mostly, i wish it hadn’t mattered so much to me that you did. – y/n
you take out an envelope, neatly fold the paper and stuff it inside, writing a neat ‘heeseung’ on the front of it.
some truths aren’t meant to be sent. some confessions are only meant for the rain to witness.
and tonight, that’s enough.
───
the second the door shuts behind him, the silence hits like a punch to the ribs.
heeseung stands there for a second too long, staring at the wood grain of your door like it might open again. like maybe you’ll come running after him. like maybe that small, broken smile you gave him wasn’t the end.
but it doesn’t open.
and it was the end.
he starts walking. he doesn’t even remember moving his feet, just that suddenly he’s outside, and the rain greets him like an old friend. cold, sharp, unforgiving. it soaks through his hoodie in seconds, but he doesn’t flinch.
he deserves it. every drop. every chill. every echo of your voice in his head.
“not quite forgiveness. not quite goodbye.”
god, what did he do?
how did he take someone who was literally sitting in his lap, trusting him with the fragile thread of something real — and turn that into this? this mess of silence and space and words he can’t take back?
“i could never love someone like her.”
he had said it so carelessly. so cruelly. trying to deflect the attention off himself in front of your friends, like a coward. like a boy who still thinks protecting his ego is worth more than protecting a heart.
especially your heart.
he wipes his face with the back of his hand, unsure if it’s tears or rain. it’s probably both.
he thinks back to your eyes right before he left. the way you looked at him like he was someone you used to know. like whatever thread was between you had finally snapped.
and the worst part?
he couldn’t even beg you to stay.
because he knows — he knows — he doesn’t deserve it.
he walks home in silence, the city around him buzzing and breathing like it doesn’t care at all about the wreckage inside his chest. his phone buzzes a few times in his pocket, probably jay or jungwon checking if he made it back safely.
but none of it matters.
because there’s only one person he wants to hear from.
and you’ve already said everything you needed to say. in the way you didn’t ask him to stay. in the way you didn’t cry. in the way you simply closed the door.
so when heeseung finally steps into his apartment, soaked to the bone, trembling from more than just the cold, he collapses on his bed, stares at the ceiling, and whispers:
“i didn’t mean it. i swear i didn’t mean it.”
but there’s no one left to listen.
not tonight.
───
heeseung isn’t the center of your world anymore.
not in the way he used to be.
in the weeks that follow, your friends become your anchor. riki never leaves your side. winter brings over matcha lattes and blankets. sunoo paints your nails while jake tells bad jokes. you laugh again. slowly, but surely.
you start writing more letters.
some are angry. some are soft. some are nothing more than wordless scratches of ink on paper.
but one night, you write a letter that feels different.
you don’t even realize what you’re saying until it’s already down:
i wanted you. for a long time. maybe even when i said i hated you. maybe that was the only way i knew how to say it without crumbling. i masked want with rage. affection with sarcasm. love with loathing. you made it easier to run. but i wanted to stay. god, i wanted to stay.
you fold that letter gently. tuck it into your drawer. it doesn’t matter if he reads it. not now.
because healing isn’t about him.
it’s about you.
and you’re getting there.
lately, the weekends have felt lighter. your apartment has become a familiar gathering place again, only now, it’s just the people who stayed. who showed up. who chose you. heeseung hasn’t come around in weeks, and no one really talks about it. not in a cruel way, just in the quiet, understanding way that friendships shift when someone slips out of the picture.
you used to dread saturday nights, used to flinch every time the group chat lit up with plans. used to wonder if he’d show up, if you’d have to spend the night pretending not to notice the weight of his silence, the way your laughter dulled around him. but somewhere along the way, those nights started to feel easier. not because you stopped missing him — but because you started remembering how to miss him without hurting yourself in the process.
your living room is alive with warmth and laughter. the scent of popcorn and mango smoothies drifts through the air. blankets are piled high on the couch, soft pillows strewn across the floor where riki is dramatically throwing himself down after losing yet another round of mario kart to sunghoon, who’s grinning like he just won the olympics.
“cheater,” riki groans, pointing an accusing finger without lifting his head.
“just admit i’m better,” sunghoon replies smugly, stretching his legs across the coffee table like he owns the place.
in the corner, winter and yuqi are dancing barefoot to a chaotic mix of early 2000s pop and indie throwbacks — somehow still synced up to choreography you’d all made up back in sophomore year. their laughter is contagious, unfiltered and bright, and it tugs a smile onto your face before you even realize it.
keeho is halfway through teaching jungwon and sunoo a tiktok dance in the kitchen doorway, voice loud and arms flailing with exaggerated energy. they’re laughing too hard to get the moves right, collapsing into each other every time they mess up. jake, unfazed by the chaos, is blending something suspiciously green in the kitchen, wearing a headband that reads “chef vibes only.”
you’re curled up on the loveseat, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, a half-finished smoothie in your hands. and for once, you’re not scanning the room for him. you’re not wondering what he’d say or how he’d look at you or if tonight would be the night he pulled you aside and finally said something real.
you’re just… here. and it’s enough.
someone throws a pillow at your head, probably riki, based on the cackling, and you lunge to retaliate, laughing as the pillow war erupts across the living room. it’s messy, loud, ridiculous. and it’s yours. this little world you’re rebuilding, one laugh, one night, one breath at a time.
there’s still a part of you that misses him. maybe there always will be. but tonight, that part is small. quiet.
outnumbered by joy.
meanwhile, heeseung is alone in his apartment.
the place is dim. quiet. it hasn’t felt like home in a long time. he's been staring at his phone for an hour now, hoping for a text that doesn’t come.
he thinks about the group chat. the silence from everyone. he thinks about the night he ruined everything. and how, somehow, he still wants to fix it.
he knows an apology isn’t enough. not this time.
he needs to show you, all of you, that he’s not the same guy who let his fear speak louder than his heart.
he just doesn’t know how yet.
but he will. he has to.
because he doesn’t just want forgiveness.
he wants to deserve it.
───
somewhere in the chaos, one of your unsent letters goes missing.
riki finds it by accident. tucked under a cushion, edges worn. he doesn't mean to read it, but your handwriting draws him in, and before he knows it, he's holding your heartbreak in his hands.
he doesn't say a word. just slips it into his pocket and walks away.
a day later, heeseung finds the letter folded on the seat of his car.
he doesn’t recognize the paper at first. but the second he sees your handwriting, his heart drops.
his hands shake as he unfolds it. the silence around him is so loud, he can hear his pulse in his ears.
and then he reads it.
every word. every line. every raw, aching truth you never meant for him to see.
i thought maybe the way you pulled me into your lap, the way you whispered near my ear, the way your hand rested on my waist — i thought maybe it meant something. turns out i was just stupid for hoping. you said you could never love someone like me. and god, that broke something in me i didn’t know was still whole.
heeseung sits there, completely still. letter trembling in his grip.
"fuck," he whispers. "fuck."
he shows up to the next group hangout like his life depends on it.
he doesn’t talk to anyone. not really. not until you walk in.
you freeze when you see him. part of you wants to turn around and leave.
but he doesn’t let you.
he stands. crosses the room.
"can we talk?" he asks, voice low, not demanding, but pleading.
you don’t say anything.
"please. just five minutes. if you still hate me after, i’ll leave you alone. forever."
there’s a long pause.
you nod.
he takes you outside, away from the noise, into the quiet night.
"i read it," he says.
you blink. "read what?"
he reaches into his jacket and pulls out the letter. your letter.
your stomach drops.
"i wasn’t supposed to see it, i know. but... i’m glad i did."
"heeseung—"
"no. let me say this. please."
his eyes are desperate. glassy. his words shaky.
"i lied. that night. i said that because i was scared. because i felt too much, too fast, and didn’t know what to do with it. i thought if i pushed you away, i could kill whatever it was before it killed me."
he takes a step closer.
"but you weren’t just someone i hated. not really. you were someone i couldn’t stop thinking about. you were the highlight of every party, every night, every moment. i was an idiot. but i never stopped wanting you."
your throat is tight.
"you broke me," you whisper.
he nods.
"i know. and i’ll spend every second proving to you that i’m sorry. not with words — with time. with actions. with everything you’ll let me give."
there’s silence.
then you take a breath.
"you’ve got a lot to prove, lee heeseung."
he gives the smallest, hopeful smile.
"then let me start now."
and he does.
not with fireworks. not with promises he can’t keep. but with the small things. the consistent things.
the next morning, there’s a text from him. simple.
“did you sleep okay?”
you stare at it for a while before replying.
“yeah. you?”
“not really. kept thinking about you.”
you don’t answer that. but your heart stirs anyway.
a few days later, he’s waiting outside your class with a drink in his hand, the one he used to make fun of you for ordering (“that’s basically sugar and foam, y/n”), but now buys without hesitation. he doesn’t try to walk you home. doesn’t push. just hands you the drink, offers a soft “you looked tired,” and walks away before you can respond.
he lets you come to him.
at the next hangout, he doesn’t hover. doesn’t sulk. he helps jake in the kitchen, jokes with jungwon, lets the others tease him without biting back. when you walk in, his eyes find you — but he doesn’t pull you aside. just offers a quiet, careful smile. like he’s waiting. like he’s learning how to stay.
one night, you’re struggling with your laundry, balancing way too many bags and a basket of unfolded clothes, and he appears without a word, grabbing half the load from your arms. you glare at him, but you don’t tell him to stop.
he walks with you to the laundry room, helps you separate colors, folds your towels when you’re too tired to finish. “i owe you way more than this,” he says softly. you don’t look at him. “yeah,” you murmur. “you do.”
he doesn’t reply. just keeps folding.
you start to notice it more after that. the way he lingers behind after group dinners to help clean. the way he listens, really listens, when you talk, even if it’s just about the books you’re reading or the music you’ve been into lately. the way he starts learning your rhythms again, not to manipulate them, but to respect them.
one night, you find a note slipped into your bag.
“this isn’t about getting you back. it’s about being someone who deserves to stand beside you. i don’t expect anything from you. just… thanks for letting me try.”
you don’t know what to do with that. but you keep the note anyway.
and maybe the biggest moment doesn’t feel big at all. it’s late. you’re sitting on the floor of your apartment, overwhelmed with everything—assignments, memories, feelings you’ve tried to ignore—and he shows up.
he doesn’t say anything. just sits beside you. close, but not too close. his shoulder brushes yours. your hand trembles. and without looking at you, he says, “you don’t have to talk. just let me sit here.”
and you do.
because he’s not trying to fix you. he’s just showing up. and maybe that’s what love looks like now.
quiet. patient. real.
you don’t forgive him all at once.
but some nights, it’s harder to pretend you don’t want to.
like the night it rains, and you forget your umbrella. you’re standing under the campus archway, clutching your books to your chest, half-considering just running for it, when a quiet voice says, “hey.”
you turn. heeseung’s holding out his umbrella, expression unreadable, hair already wet from the walk over.
“you’ll get soaked,” you mumble, surprised. “i don’t mind,” he says. “but you hate the rain.”
you want to tell him to leave. want to remind him that knowing those things doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.
but instead, you step under the umbrella. shoulder to shoulder. hearts too close. you don’t say a word the whole walk home. but you remember how he always matched his pace to yours. he still does.
───
there’s another time. movie night.
everyone’s over again, sprawled across the living room. you end up between yuqi and jungwon on the couch, but at some point, someone moves, and when you shift, you realize you’re next to him. again.
the movie plays. people whisper and pass snacks and argue over the plot twist. but all you feel is the space between your knee and his. the ghost of warmth where your arms nearly brush.
you don’t move away. neither does he.
and at one point, you laugh at a stupid scene. without thinking, you glance at him, wanting to see if he found it funny too. he’s already looking at you. and for a second, everything stills.
you look away first. but your heart doesn't stop racing for a long, long time.
───
the third moment is softest of all.
it’s late. everyone’s left. you’re cleaning up alone, stacking plates in the kitchen.
you don’t hear him come back until he’s beside you, rolling up his sleeves.
“thought i’d help,” he says gently. you nod. don’t speak.
you’re both quiet for a while, working in sync. something about it feels… familiar. domestic. like home.
then, as you’re drying the last cup, you glance over. he’s watching you, and there’s something in his eyes. something tender. careful. full of things he hasn’t said yet.
“i miss you,” he says softly.
your breath catches.
you set the cup down.
“heeseung–”
“i’m not asking for anything,” he interrupts, voice thick. “just… i miss you. and i wanted you to know.”
you swallow hard. there’s so much you could say. but instead, you whisper, “i know.”
he nods once. and then he leaves. because he meant it — he wasn’t asking for anything. but that’s the moment you know: you don’t hate him anymore. you never did.
───
it happens a week later.
a rooftop. stars overhead. winter’s birthday, most of your friends are tipsy on alcohol, sugar and too many karaoke songs. you haven’t had a drop of alcohol, wanting to truly feel everything.
heeseung finds you leaning against the railing, eyes on the sky.
“hey,” he says. you nod and let him stand beside you.
the silence isn’t awkward anymore. it’s soft. steady.
“can i ask you something?” he says, barely audible.
you hum.
“do you still feel it?” he asks. “whatever it was… whatever we had.”
you don’t answer for a long time.
and then, quietly… “i never really stopped.”
he turns. slowly.
your eyes meet. and in them is every apology he’s ever whispered with his actions. every moment he gave you space. every time he showed up when he didn’t have to.
you reach for him first.
your hand brushes his. his fingers curl around yours like a prayer.
and then, finally, he kisses you.
soft. aching. full of every unspoken word, every almost, every could’ve been. this isn’t the kind of kiss that demands anything. it’s a promise. a beginning.
you pull back first, just enough to whisper, “i don’t wanna do this while you’re intoxicated, i don’t want you to regret it.”
he stares at you before mumbling into your lips.
“y/n, i haven’t had a drink, but it feels like i’m drunk when i kiss you.”
your heart stops and everything fades into the background. “don’t break me again.” you plead, face inches away from his.
he presses his forehead to yours.
“never again,” he breathes.
and this time, you believe him.
as he reconnects your lips, his hands tremble slightly where they find purchase on your waist. the night air is cool, but your skin is burning—flushed, alive, and aching in a way you haven’t let yourself feel in so long.
he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes flick between yours and your lips, like he’s still not sure this is real.
“we don’t have to,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “just say the word.”
but you don’t want him to stop. not tonight. not after everything.
so you slide your fingers into the collar of his jacket, tug him closer until your lips brush his again.
“take me home, heeseung.”
and he does.
his apartment is quiet when you get inside, the chaos of the earlier party gone, the night still humming with something electric. you barely have time to kick your shoes off before his mouth finds yours again. hungrier now, more desperate. like all the restraint he’s shown is unraveling, thread by thread.
his hands are everywhere — your hips, your waist, your jaw. like he’s relearning you. memorizing the weight of you against him.
you tug his jacket off, fingers fumbling with the zipper, and he lets out a low, breathless laugh against your neck.
“still impatient,” he teases.
“still hot when you shut up,” you shoot back, and he groans.
you barely make it to the couch.
he sits first, pulling you into his lap like it’s instinct, like he’s needed this for months. your knees straddle him, bodies pressed chest to chest, your hands tangled in his hair as he kisses you like he’s starving for it.
he tilts his head, deepens the kiss, and it’s filthy. slow. wet. your hips roll against his without thinking, and the noise he makes, low and guttural, goes straight to your core.
“fuck,” he groans. forehead against your collarbone. “you’re gonna kill me.”
you arch into him, tug his shirt over his head, and he follows suit, fingers slipping under the hem of yours, eyes flicking up for permission. you nod, and he peels it off slowly, reverently, like unwrapping something precious.
his hands trail over your skin like he’s trying to remember what it feels like to deserve you.
and then his mouth is on your neck, your shoulder, trailing down until you’re gasping his name, your back arching as he presses kisses across your collarbones.
“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, like it hurts.
as you reach for his belt wanting to make him feel good, he puts his hand over yours. “there’s something i need to tell you.. before we take anything further.” he says like he doesn’t even want you to know.
“what is it, hee?”
god. that nickname.
it’s what all his close friends call him, however when you say it. he wants to lay the world at your feet.
“i’m.. uh– a vir-virgin…” he mumbles. you would have missed it had you not been paying close attention.
you laugh.
heeseung leans back into the couch, hoping, praying, wishing it to swallow him whole.
as you observe heeseung, you realize he must be serious. “you’re a virgin? but you– you always used to talk about your hook-ups and how every week it was like you had someone new hanging off your arm??? what do you mean you’re a virgin?”
he whimpers. he fucking whimpers. “i’m not proud of it, okay? i always came really close to hooking up with girls but i um. i couldn’t you know.. get it… up.”
you sit there quietly, giving him time to compose himself and continue.
“everytime i tried to lose my virginity, i couldn’t get hard unless i thought she was you,” he speaks, not gaining enough courage to look you in the eyes.
you stare at heeseung for a moment, trying to process what he just said. the weight of it settles between you like a delicate secret, and suddenly the playful teasing tone you’d had before feels completely inappropriate.
you can see it in his doe eyes — how embarrassed he is, how much he wants to crawl out of his own skin. the corners of his lips are tugged in a tight line, as if holding in every emotion that threatens to spill out. but you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face. it’s soft, gentle, but laced with a teasing warmth.
“you’re a virgin?” you ask, letting the words linger a little longer than they should, pretending to be surprised as if he hadn’t just told you, twice.
heeseung’s face reddens, and you see him shrink further into the couch. you could almost feel his desire to hide, to escape. but you don’t let him. instead, you move closer, shifting between his legs, and place your hand on his thigh. a gentle, reassuring pressure.
“god, heeseung,” you tease softly, your lips curling into a smile that isn’t cruel, but playful. “how could you keep that from me? you’ve been all… big talk and ‘i get all the girls,’ and here you are, this nervous little thing, blushing at the thought of being with me?”
his eyes flicker with uncertainty, but you lean in just enough to press your lips to his ear. you feel him tense under the touch, and the subtle shiver runs through his body, telling you everything you need to know. he’s not as confident as he makes it seem.
“you should’ve told me sooner, you know,” you whisper, your voice low, just enough to make his breath hitch. “i would’ve been patient. we could’ve taken it slow.”
heeseung groans softly, his hands gripping the fabric of the couch like he’s holding onto some semblance of control. you smile knowingly, watching the struggle on his face. but it’s not discomfort — it’s desire. you can feel it in the way his eyes refuse to leave yours, in the way his body reacts to the gentleness in your touch.
“i… i don’t want you to think less of me,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it anyway. “it’s just… with you, it’s always felt different.”
you gently trace your fingers up his chest, watching as his breath quickens. you’re giving him space to breathe, to process, and then you lean in, brushing your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss.
“stop worrying about that,” you say quietly, your lips just barely touching his. “i don’t think less of you. if anything, you’re hotter right now than ever before.”
the vulnerability in his eyes shifts. he’s still nervous, but the weight is lifting. and for the first time in a while, you see him start to believe that he doesn’t need to hide anything from you.
then, you shift your focus, teasing him once more with a playful grin. “but you know, heeseung… i could help you with that. we could take this slow, maybe help you get comfortable with what it feels like to be with me. you trust me, don’t you?”
he nods, slowly, not trusting his voice. he’s ready. maybe more than he thought.
and you take that as your cue. you kiss him again, deeper this time, letting the heat between you grow. his body responds to you almost immediately. hands shifting from nervous to eager, pulling you closer as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.
“let me take care of you,” you murmur, your hands trailing down to his belt. this time, you don’t hesitate. you undo it slowly, giving him time to react, but he doesn’t stop you. instead, he leans back into the couch, chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.
heeseung’s eyes search yours one more time, a silent question in them. you nod gently, giving him permission to be vulnerable, to trust you fully.
and when your hands pull his pants down, you can feel the heat of him, see the evidence of his desire. you take your time, enjoying the way he reacts to each touch, savoring the way he trembles under your hands.
you start by rubbing over his bulge when your eyes widen.
he just stares back at you, not blinking, but incredibly nervous. “is– is something wrong?” he stutters out.
“wrong? no, heeseung. you’re huge.”
he blushes and hides his face in his hands. his veiny hands. you’ll definitely need to put those to use later.
you softly drag his hands away from his face and tell him to never hide from you. you think he’s beautiful like this.
after he calms down, you look back into his eyes that resemble a deer, and he nods. signaling you to continue.
you finally trail your eyes down to his raging hard on, you can almost see it pulse.
his breath quickens the longer you take to begin touching him.
you start by teasing his swollen tip, arousal evident in the stain on his gray boxers. he sighs heavily, tipping his head back.
as you rub your hand down to his base, you get a feel for how thick he truly is.
he’s hard. aching. even at the slightest touch, his eyebrows furrow and he holds back soft groans.
you rip your hand off his clothed bulge. “if you want me to continue, you need to let me hear you, baby.”
that was his breaking point, he quickly nods his head yes looking at you with pleading eyes, “c—can you please touch me? it hurts.”
not wanting to tease him any longer, you rip his boxers off his thighs and his throbbing length slaps against his lower abdomen reaching just above his belly button. precum smears on his abs and you get the urge to lick it off.
so you do.
you gently move his dick away from his toned stomach, swiping your wet muscle along his abs, sucking to leave light marks.
the noises he makes are downright pornographic, and you think you’ll never be able to hear them enough.
moving your attention back to the hardness in your grasp, you begin to lick up his shaft, tracing each vein with the tip of your tongue. his head is still tipped back, frustrating you a bit because you want his attention on you.
so… in one swift motion, you take him down your throat until his tip hits the back. his head shoots up and he moans. loud.
heeseung is in heaven. the feeling of your throat constricting around his cock, he never wants you to pull off of him. he gently pulls your hair into a ponytail, hands shaking when you start moving.
his apartment is filled with filthy noises: wet, loud, and obscene.
he can hear and feel your gag reflexes kicking in but you don’t budge. you continue to move up and down, not wanting to stop until he cums.
his tipping point was you somehow taking him even further down your throat, nose brushing his pelvis. he thought you were going to take a break for air but you didn't.
you stay.
swallowing around him.
the pressure in your jaw is almost unbearable but when you feel his thighs shaking, you know he’s close. and you need to ruin him.
hollowing your cheeks, you swirl your tongue around his engorged tip, hands coming up to play with his heavy balls. he can’t hold back anymore. the sensation of you taking his whole cock down your tiny throat and the stimulation of his balls in your hands. he groans.
desperate. low. deep
and spills down your throat. warm, wet, and sticky ropes, pour out of his tip. taking up all the space you had left, some spilling out from the corners of your mouth.
you swallow all that you can, then pull off from his dick.
heavy breathing is the only thing that can be heard. heeseung threw an arm over his eyes, chest heaving, trying to regain control of his senses.
meanwhile, you haven’t stopped clenching your thighs together.
you didn’t even notice you were staring until he clears his throat. he just looks so gorgeous all fucked out.
“wow. did you– swallow.. it?” he asks through pants.
you answer him like it was the most natural thing in the world, “yeah, because it was you”
he moans, again. and that’s when you notice he’s still hard, still aching.
as you move to straddle his lap, he grabs your thighs and wraps your legs around his waist. “not here, i want our first time to be special” he says softly, with a kiss to your temple.
he carries you to his bedroom on wobbly legs and gently lays you down on his bed, hovering on top of you. he plants wet kisses all over your face, trailing down to your neck, collarbones, until he reaches your covered chest.
looking at you with big, lust filled eyes, he waits for your green light. you nod and he fumbles with your bra clasp, eventually tearing the fabric away.
“you’re stunning,” he says completely awestruck by your half-naked form.
as he continues staring, he licks his lips, slowly lowering his head wrapping his soft lips around one of your perky buds.
you instinctively arch into his touch, one of his hands wrapping around your waist as his other hand gently kneads your other boob. soft gasps and whines slip from your lips as you try to grind up in search of any friction where you need it most.
he senses your desperate pleas and starts moving his body to slot between your legs, face in front of your clothed core. you wiggle your hips trying to convince him to speed up and touch you where you need it the most.
“can i…?” he practically begs, “yeah” you sigh as you relax into his plush sheets. he drags your sweats down your soft legs planting kisses along the inside of your thighs, all the way down to your calves. he makes his way to your panty clad pussy, pressing a soft kiss to your bundle of nerves aching for him.
you don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on before.
he looks so good between your thighs, you want this image ingrained into your brain forever.
he brings his thumb up to press on the wet spot that’s formed on your panties, groaning, “fuck, you’re so wet.”
“all for you.”
he replays those words in his head and his patience snaps. tearing your underwear in half, he wastes no time. tongue lapping and the wetness between your legs, like he’s been deprived of any liquid all his life.
you’ve never met someone this desperate to eat you out. or anyone for that matter.
he mumbles against your core, “guide me, please, wan’ you t’feel good, mmh.”
your hands take place in his silky soft roots, gently tugging on the strands.
through whimpers, you tell him to focus on your clit, and surprisingly (for a virgin), he finds it fairly quickly.
he briefly sucks on the nub, flicking it with his tongue to soothe it. “fuck, hee” you moan out into the space of his bedroom.
he groans against your pussy, carefully bringing up his fingers so he can push his tongue into your awaiting hole. the moment he starts fucking you with his tongue, you arch your back and grind into his face, needing more.
he heard his friends talking about “prep” and “stretching girls out,” so he wonders if you need to be stretched out to take him. you said he was huge, did you mean it? he has no idea, he’s a pathetic virgin who has only shoved his dick into his right hand. not even a pocket pussy or fleshlight.
to your dismay, he pulls away for a brief second asking if he should use his fingers. “please, i need you to stretch me out, i can’t– take you without prep,” you rush out feeling your high not far away.
“shit, okay baby,” he mutters back before bringing his middle finger up to spread your juices around.
your hips jerk up when he focuses on your clit, surprised by the stimulation.
slowly, he pushes his finger in, getting used to the warm sensation of your walls.
you clench around his thick digit, feeling fuller than when you finger yourself. as he pumps it in and out, you tell him to add another one and he does.
moaning in relief, you arch into his touch as his tongue finds its way back to your sensitive clit.
between him lapping like a dog and the feeling of two of his fingers pumping in and out of your tight hole, you feel a familiar band in your stomach building up.
your moans increase and heeseung feels dizzy, taking in all that you give.
he curves his fingers all while sucking on your bundle of nerves, causing you to tip over the edge and that band in your stomach to snap.
you come crashing down, chanting his name like a mantra as heeseung helps you ride out your high.
as you lift your head and meet his gaze, he looks more fucked out than you do. hooded eyes, tongue lolled out of his mouth, gaze consumed with lust. you pull him by the collar of his shirt until your lips collide in a mess of tongues and teeth.
your makeout session unfortunately doesn’t last long as heeseung starts whining into your lips.
that’s when you realize his cock found your bent knee, not so subtly grinding against it, trying to relieve some of the ache.
“feeling needy, are we?” you tease, earning a playful roll of the eyes from heeseung.
pulling back, you drink in his bare torso– he’s always been muscular as he was very popular with the ladies (until he got into bed with them).
dragging your hand up his chiseled abs, his stomach tenses and his dick twitches.
you found his second biggest weakness, besides you. his abs.
deciding to end the teasing there, since you’re also becoming increasingly impatient, you flip him over so you land on top of him with a quiet, “oof.”
as you settle your bare core on his rock solid cock, you start grinding, placing your hands on his chest for support.
he can’t hold back the guttural groans spilling from his mouth. not believing you’re really on top of him right now. this isn’t just one of his wet dreams.
he thought this couldn’t get any better, but when he struggles to get out a weak ask for a condom, you just respond with “no, i’m– on the pill. need to feel you. all of you.”
and to that, he moans, not believing his ears.
it’s his first time. and he’s about to have sex with YOU. raw. he thinks he’s dreaming. there’s no way you’re real.
you gently angle his dick towards your awaiting hole, sinking down until his fat tip is inside you.
instantly, you both sigh in relief, starting to feel the pressure ease up.
if you feel a stretch at his tip entering you, you don’t know how you’re supposed to fit all of him inside you. he’s the biggest you’ve seen and he doesn’t even know it.
your attention is drawn back to the man consuming your brain when he whines. “m-more, please.” he’s becoming needier the longer you stay at just his tip but you don’t know how to tell him you’ve never taken a size like him before.
“hee-heeseung i need a sec, you’re– fuck. so thick,” you say between moans.
his grip on your hips tightens, a silent way of telling you to take your time.
when you finally deem yourself ready, you sink lower, wanting to speed it up, bracing the stretch to come.
you feel him pulsing inside you and that’s all you need to sink all the way down, him bottoming out inside you.
it’s his first time feeling anything other than his hand wrapped around him, and he whimpers, loud. it’s overstimulating in the best way possible and before he knows it you move up to his tip and bounce back down. his dick twitches and you feel it. every vein, every pulse, every movement, even his heavy breathing.
heeseung, not in control of his movements, bucks his hips up, making another non-existent inch fit inside your stretched out core.
you moan soft and loud, eyes rolling back, as the pain turned into pleasure. bouncing faster on his girthy cock, you uncontrollably clench around him, causing heeseung’s grip to tighten. you know it’ll bruise tomorrow, but at the moment, he feels too good for you to care.
the room smells of sex, and the only sounds that can be heard are skin clapping and your shared noises.
heeseung must notice your legs becoming tired because before you know it, you’re flat on your back with heeseung on top of you, cock never slipping out from your pussy.
his large hands grab each of your thighs, pressing them to your chest.
his pace is slow at first, testing the waters, getting a feel for a rhythm.
as his hands stay pressed to your thighs, he slowly drags out and pushes all of his dick inside you.
you feel him deeper in this position, a bulge forming in your lower belly.
when he notices, his eyes stay glued there.
you wonder what he’s looking at but the moment you look down, you’re met with his hand pressing slightly on the bulge causing the loudest moan to leave your lips.
he signals you to hold your thighs as one of his hands holds himself up and the other focuses on how he can feel his dick inside your guts with every thrust.
his pace suddenly quickens when you clench hard around him, making his hips stutter briefly.
endless praises leave his pretty lips, telling you how good you feel, how hot you look laid underneath him, taking whatever he gives you.
feeling a familiar, yet new sensation building rapidly, you try to warn him that you’re close but somehow, he already knows. “i know baby, let go whenever you want.” he mutters back, feeling just as close to his high.
“fuck– where do you want it?” he rushes out, not wanting to cum inside you if that isn’t what you want.
but apparently, all the gods are smiling down on him as you release your thighs from the grip you had on them and wrap your legs around his waist. “inside,” you moan.
and at that, he cums. hard. ropes of his hot, gooey, cum spill inside you. tipping you over the edge.
with a loud groan, clear liquid comes rushing out from you, spraying all over his sheets and lower abdomen. soaking his dick.
heeseung moans. again. raw and unfiltered at the fact that you just squirted all over him (he’s seen enough porn and heard too many stories from your shared friend group to know what squirting is).
as you come down from your high, heeseung is somehow still cumming. it spills out of you, creating an even stickier mess on his bed. but he doesn’t care.
not when you’re beneath him, chest rising rapidly, trying to catch your breath.
heeseung’s cock is still lodged inside you, holding half of his cum inside you, not wanting it to go to waste.
as he collapses on top of you, he places a soft kiss on your forehead, holding your trembling body close to his.
you were the first to speak, “i didn’t even know i could do that,” talking about how you squirted all over him. “guess we both had firsts today,” he softly chuckles.
his breath is warm against your skin, his arm tightening just a little around your waist as if anchoring himself in the moment. you don’t respond right away, too caught up in the quiet thrum of your heartbeat, the lingering warmth between you, the way his fingers begin tracing gentle, absent-minded shapes against your spine.
“i didn’t expect it to be like this,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the hush of the room.
“like what?” he asks, voice low, like he’s afraid to shatter the calm.
you shift slightly to face him, resting your head more comfortably on his chest. “soft. safe.”
Hheeseung lets out a breath that sounds like relief and something deeper, something reverent. “yeah,” he whispers. “me neither.”
for a while, neither of you say anything. he pulls the blanket higher over both of you, his other hand brushing your hair back with such tenderness that it makes your eyes sting. he presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering like he means it.
“you okay?” he asks, voice still rough from earlier, but softer now, like the edge of him has been smoothed by your touch.
you nod, then glance up at him. “are you?”
heeseung meets your gaze, and something in his expression shifts. vulnerability bleeding through the cracks he used to hide behind. “i am now.”
your heart squeezes.
he licks his lips, nervous. “i’ve been so stupid with you. all this time, i kept pushing and pulling, thinking maybe if i kept it messy, it’d be easier to walk away if i had to.” he pauses, his voice thinning. “but tonight just… made me realize i don’t want to walk away.”
your breath catches. “heeseung…”
“i don’t want this to be a one time thing,” he says, eyes searching yours. “not the sex, not the closeness. i want you. the fights, the tension, the way you drive me crazy and still somehow make me want to be better just by being around you. i’m so in love with you, it hurts.”
your lips part in surprise, and he laughs quietly, self-deprecating and shy. “too much?”
instead of answering, you lean up and kiss him, slow, deep, and full of all the things you couldn’t say until now. when you pull back, you rest your forehead against his, smiling as his thumb brushes over your cheek.
“i’m in love with you too, idiot.”
he grins, wide and a little teary-eyed, and pulls you closer like he’s never letting go.
and you know he won’t have to.
pls reblog & leave feedback <3 hope you enjoyed the read ◡̈
[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250417
warnings : smut, nsfw, aphrodisiac induced, explicit language, etc.
you had just gotten home, it was really too hot outside. your body were sticky with sweat from the walk back and swear,
it was one of the worst feeling ever.
the first thing you did was hop into the shower and let the cool water soothe your overheated skin.
and while drying yourself in the living room, you also emptied your bag onto the table. there's your phone, wallet, make up... until your eyes landed on a small box of chocolates.
your friend had shoved it into your bag earlier, complaining hers was too full.
curious, you snapped a photo and sent it to her.
[you sent a photo]
you: can i try this?
minutes passed but there's no reply, and longer you stared at the box, the more you thought, just one, why not?
so you ate one out, popping it into your mouth without any second thought.
you started to feel... weird, after a while. your cheeks flushed, your breathing grew heavier, and your body suddenly felt restless in a different way.
you had just stepped out of the shower, yet your skin felt hotter than before.
your nipples hardened too, you started pressing your legs together involuntarily. just groaning, tossing and turning against the couch, grasping for relief, while your mind wandered.
you miss your boyfriend.
your tall, gorgeous, dancer boyfriend. the man who had the most perfect face and body, perfect hands, hands that knew every inch of you. hands that could grip your hips as he fuck you from behind, he could wrap it around your throat and make you whimper. his voice, his smile...
"riki..."
"fuck," you exhaled, the towel had already slipped off your body while you were rushing to your bedroom. you sat over a pillow and rolled your hips fast and desperate.
your fingers dug into it as you rocked harder, imagining the way your boyfriend can fill you up, how good he feels inside you. your mind replayed the last time he had you pinned against the wall or bed, fucking you so deep you were actually going dumb and crying. you missed him. you missed his weight pressing you down, his breath against your ear, his cock stretching you open-
and ni-ki's heart had nearly stopped when he heard moans the second he stepped into the house.
his body moved on instinct, long legs carrying him fast towards the bedroom. did something happen? are you okay? what the fuck is going on-
is there someone else with you?
and you were there, so lost in your own pleasure, so caught up in the fantasy, that you didn't hear the door open. you didn't hear the footsteps, nor his belt being unbuckled behind your back.
then a hand suddenly covered your mouth, and pulling your body away from the pillow.
a startled gasp left your lips, you tried to scream. "help-"
"you couldn't wait for me?" ni-ki asked, his breath brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
you scared him too but all he could think right now is his poor baby just got so desperate and had to fuck a pillow.
his lips crashed onto yours before you could even answer, kissing you upside down—just hungry and possessive.
"riki," you moaned, biting your lip. "i need you so bad, baby."
your body arched, your skin burned with need to feel him everywhere. then you sat up, hands trembling as you pulled his zipper down, removing his jeans and boxers fully in one go.
his cock sprang free, thick and aching with precum glistening at the tip.
your mouth just... watered.
and just as you were about to take him into your mouth, ni-ki suddenly shifted, lying down beside you instead.
you didn't even care, you just positioned yourself above him, bringing your knees to either side of his head.
you want to suck him off first but you also needed something either like a friction to keep you from aching.
then you leaned down, wrapping your fingers around his cock before taking him into your mouth. ni-ki groaned, his grip tightening on your ass the moment your tongue swirled around the tip.
then he pulled you down onto his mouth even more.
you just whimpered, struggling to keep up as your pleasure from his tongue made you dizzy, and feral.
you were humping the pillow for too long so now you couldn't last in his face. your walls started clenching, your moans muffled around his cock as you came hard.
ni-ki was there drinking and licking, keeping you right there, making sure he got every drop of your release.
he flipped you onto your back after, his body moved on top of yours, cock already pressed against your entrance, one that was already wet from your mouth.
"please," you whispered, holding on the back of his neck.
"okay," he kissed you, sliding into you so deep, he had both of you moaning at the stretch. "it's so tight," he groaned, burying his face on your neck.
the pace was slow at first, but you needed more so you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, making him lose it.
his hips snapped into you fast and relentless. his mouth found your tits, sucking hard, leaving marks, moaning against your skin.
every thrust sent sparks through your overstimulated body, leaving you dizzy, and delirious with need. "faster, riki..." you begged.
ni-ki cursed, obeying immediately, fucking into you even harder, and rougher. the sound of skin slapping, moans and breathless gasps, filled the room.
his hands were everywhere gripping your thighs, pinning your wrists above your head, grabbing your face to kiss you deeply between thrusts. you felt like you were burning, like your body couldn't handle this much pleasure at once, but you also needed more and more of his dick.
ni-ki panicked, "fuck, baby- i'm gonna-"
you moaned as his pace turning erratic. "me too... gonna cum."
your back arching as another orgasm crashed over you, your walls were squeezing him so tight he's losing his mind. the feeling sent him spiraling. he groaned loudly, his movements grew sloppy as he came inside you, his hips jerking with every wave of his release.
his body trembled against yours. both of you were gasping for air and grasping at each other like you'd fall apart otherwise.
ni-ki didn't move after he came, he stayed inside you, panting, his forehead pressed against yours, hands gripping on your hips, heart pounding while his entire body still tingling from how insane that was.
"holy shit," he breathed out.
you let out a breathless laugh, brushing your fingers through his damp hair, holding him in your arms. "yeah..."
he swallowed, hands sliding down your sides, still gripping, still needing to feel you. like the thought of stopping, pulling out, and not being inside you will hurt him.
"baby," he murmured, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips. "i still wanna fuck you."
you let out a soft giggle, your body clenched around him told him you wanted it too.
"i don't think you can still move," you whispered, playing with his hair.
ni-ki groaned against your skin, trailing kisses up your neck.
"but that's fine. i'll do all the work now."
"you're perfect," he chuckled in relief.
you can feel him softening, but somehow his dick were still filling you inside perfectly, still pulsing with need despite how wrecked he was.
you smirked, biting your lip as you rolled your hips just a little.
ni-ki whined, his fingers dug into your skin, his head dropping against your shoulder. "fuck, baby, don't-" but you did it again, rocking against him, feeling him twitch back to life inside you.
a soft chuckle left your lips as you kissed his temple. "i thought you wanted to feel me?"
"i do," he groaned, his voice breathless, wrecked. "but i'm so fucking sensitive."
you ran your hands down his back, nails grazing his skin lightly as you slowly lifted your hips before sinking back down. a strangled moan left his throat, his arms wrapping tighter around you.
"oh- shit..."
you grinned, pressing your lips to his ear. "too much?"
ni-ki let out a shaky exhale, his hands trembling as they tried to guide your movements even though his body was too weak to follow through. "no," he rasped. "don't stop."
you took over, moving at your own pace, rolling your hips, feeling him grow hard again inside you. ni-ki became helpless beneath you, making noises and broken whimpers as his body shuddered with every grind of your hips.
you tangled your fingers in his hair, tilting his head up to look at you. his eyes were glassy, blown with pleasure, his lips swollen and parted as he panted, begging for more without saying a word.
he looks so pretty, blushing and fucked out.
his fingers dug into your thighs as his hips weakly tried to meet yours. "you're ruining me."
you smiled, leaning down to kiss him, swallowing every moans as you rode him, doing exactly what he wanted—because after all, he was the one who said he still wanted to fuck.
and you can't even remember what happened after, now you slowly woke up with ni-ki pressing soft kisses to your face, and your body was aching in the best way possible.
he then stood up to get water, running his hands through his hair but his dazed eyes flickered to the small box that had fallen from your bag. he furrowed his brows, his still pleasure-addled brain struggled to process but somehow, he was able to comprehend that the chocolate is laced with aphrodisiac.
"so this is how you were able to keep going?" ni-ki asked holding up the chocolate.
you tilted your head in confusion, he threw the box for you to catch.
"oh my god?" you scoffed in disbelief, "this is why i was so fucking horny..."
ni-ki laughed, unwrapping and munched on one.
"wha- why'd you eat that?"
he walked towards you and cupped your face, pulling you into a messy, chocolate-flavored kiss.
so ready to be ruined even more.
note : it wasn't even their chocolate T_T but anyway, thanks for waiting. this is a very short one, hopefully i can finish the others so i could post it right away <3
マスターリストm.list
taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao
pairing: stranger!nishimura riki x fem!reader
synopsis: you meet him on a quiet night — a stranger with sharp eyes and a colder edge, nothing like anyone in your sleepy suburb. he won’t talk, barely looks at you, but something about him lingers. maybe you’re just curious. or maybe you’ve seen him before.
featuring: ni-ki & jake of enhypen
genre: childhood friends to lovers, a sprinkle of angst, smut, skinship, kissing, etc.
warnings: smut (18+), difficult relationships with parents, love at first sight lowk, vulnerability, themes of implied watching (not rlly stalking) but it isn't graphic, riki smokes cigs, uhhh i think that's it?? lowercase intended heh
playlist: anxiety by doechii, clarity by zedd & sacrifice by enhypen
(smut warnings under cut)
wc: 9.120k
a/n: this is way longer than i expected but it came to me in a dream... enjoy! also i'm gonna start a perm taglist! comment on any of my fics or send an ask to be added! <3
smut content: riki's PACKING, they cum in their pants lol, dry humping, deepthroating kinda, backshots LMAO, missionary, dom!riki x sub!reader, degradation & praise kinks, creampie, like SO MUCH cum... n e ways! fluffy aftercare, unprotected sex (wrap b4 you tap), tit fucking, oral (m. receiving), choking, everything is consensual, riki and reader are both so down bad for each other... lmk if i missed anything :3
(not proofread)
-ˏˋ⋆ 7 months ago ⋆ˊˎ-
it was raining the day you first felt it — that creeping sensation at the back of your neck, like invisible fingers brushing against your skin.
not a storm, not anything dramatic. just that kind of soft, cold drizzle that seeped into your clothes and made the world feel like it was holding its breath. gray sky melted into gray pavement, the horizon smeared like a half-finished painting. you were standing under the chipped awning of the old bakery on the corner, the scent of yeast and sugar mixing with the rain, waiting for your usual thursday pastry that was always slightly overbaked but comfortingly warm.
you remember scrolling through your phone, aimlessly, as your friend, jake, rambled beside you about something he saw on tv. you weren't listening. you were too aware of the feeling — that hum beneath your skin. subtle but unshakable.
“there’s someone watching me,” you’d said earlier that morning, trying to brush it off with a laugh as you stirred milk into your coffee. “it’s my anxiety.” jake didn’t look up from his phone. “or maybe you’re watching yourself spiral.”
you’d rolled your eyes. maybe he was right. midterms were looming, you hadn’t slept in days, and your brain felt like it was being slowly pulled apart by rubber bands. but still. the feeling didn’t go away.
it got worse.
you’d been fidgeting, switching the weight on your feet, chewing the inside of your cheek. and then, like something calling your name without a sound, your eyes had drifted across the street.
that’s when you saw him.
a boy. or maybe a man — it was hard to tell, the rain blurred everything. tall, impossibly still, wearing a black hoodie that clung to his shoulders. he wasn’t under any kind of shelter. he stood alone, soaked to the bone, his face half-hidden by the hood, his gaze fixed. not on the road. not on the buildings. but on you.
you stared. you didn’t recognize him. not really. and yet something deep in your chest stirred like a memory. like a name you almost remembered. like a dream you’d had once and forgotten by morning.
you glanced down for a second — a message lighting up your screen.
when you looked up, he was gone.
no footsteps. no splash. just… gone.
you never told jake. what would you say? you didn’t even know what you’d seen. maybe nothing at all.
maybe your anxiety really was watching you. maybe it had grown arms and legs and a face hidden under a rain-soaked hood. maybe it had always been there, just waiting for the right day to show itself.
either way, it started then.
and it never really stopped.
-ˏˋ⋆ present day ⋆ˊˎ-
the hallway is too quiet for a friday night.
you shuffle down the corridor with a tied-up trash bag swinging limply at your side, socks stuffed in your duck slippers, slapping against the cool tile floor. the overhead light flickers once, buzzing faintly. classic.
you reach the stairwell, already bracing yourself for the sharp chill of the outside air, when you stop short.
he’s there.
leaning against the railing of the third-floor landing, hoodie pulled up over his head, cigarette dangling between his fingers — even though this is strictly a no-smoking building. he doesn’t flinch when you turn the corner. just keeps staring out at the dim skyline, face barely visible under the shadow of his hood.
you slow down, blinking.
he’s not familiar — not really. you pride yourself on knowing every face in this sleepy apartment complex, whether through polite nods in the mailroom or awkward elevator silences. but him? nothing. no name. no room number. just angles and silence.
and yet… something about him rings in your head like a half-forgotten dream.
his profile is soft, almost too pretty to be real. sharp jaw, dark lashes, bangs dipping into his eyes. he looks like he doesn’t belong here — like someone plucked him out of a bigger story and dropped him into yours by mistake.
"hey," you offer, voice casual, just above a whisper. "you new here?"
he doesn’t look at you. doesn’t answer.
awkward.
you shift the trash bag in your hands, trying again. “i live on the second floor. don’t think i’ve seen you around before.”
still nothing. just a small exhale of smoke that curls into the cold night air.
rude, you think. but not in a mean way. more like… distant. careful.
you lean against the opposite railing, letting the silence stretch for a few seconds.
"you look familiar," you say, eyes narrowing. "have we met before?"
this time, his gaze flickers. not quite to you — just past you. a twitch of recognition, maybe. or annoyance.
you can't tell.
but your brain is racing. you know him. you must. maybe in passing. maybe in a memory. maybe you’ve just seen him out here before, on the edge of your vision, existing quietly in the corners of your routine. maybe your subconscious noticed him long before you did.
he stubs out the cigarette and walks past you without a word.
you don’t move. you just watch him disappear down the hall, hoodie covered by a black jacket, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"okay then," you murmur to yourself, staring after him. and you can’t help it — the way your eyes linger on the spot he stood, heart ticking a little faster.
there’s something about him.
you just don’t know what. yet.
───
it's raining the next time you see him.
you’re standing under the overhang by the front entrance, fumbling with your umbrella, when the door swings open behind you. you glance back — and it’s him. again.
hoodie. same brown timberlands. same unreadable expression.
you swear he pauses when he sees you, just a fraction of a second. but maybe that’s in your head.
"you smoke a lot for someone living in a no-smoking building," you say without thinking, half a joke.
he doesn’t laugh. but his lips twitch, barely, like maybe he almost did.
he steps out into the rain without an umbrella.
"hey!" you call, surprised. "you're seriously just gonna walk in that?"
he doesn't stop. doesn't answer. but this time, he does glance back at you over his shoulder. eyes dark. thoughtful. like he’s trying to decide something.
“i’ve seen you before,” you say — louder, more certain now. “i just don’t remember where.”
his mouth parts, like he might say something. but then he turns and keeps walking, rain soaking into the fabric of his hoodie, blending him into the gray of the street.
and you're left standing there, umbrella unopened, heart kicking strangely against your ribs.
───
it’s quiet in the laundry room — too quiet. the kind of quiet that settles in your chest and presses down, like you’re underwater. the overhead light flickers occasionally, buzzing in protest, but no one’s bothered to fix it. you wouldn’t usually be here this late, but your sheets were stained and the smell was driving you insane. so here you are, half-past midnight, leaning against a rickety folding table, waiting.
your phone barely gets signal this far in the basement, and the wi-fi’s always spotty. it’s just you, the low groan of the washer, and your own thoughts trying to make conversation.
until the door creaks open.
you don’t jump, but your spine straightens on instinct. you don’t have to look up to know it’s him — the presence is immediate, unmistakable. that stillness in the air that follows him like a shadow. you finally glance up, and there he is. same black hoodie. same too-quiet footsteps. same face that looks like it doesn’t belong here. like it was carved into something older than this tiny suburban building.
he doesn’t say a word. just drops a bag on the floor and begins sorting laundry like it’s the most normal thing in the world. like you haven’t already seen him twice this week, always at night, always alone, always watching without watching.
“seriously?” you say, trying to keep your voice light. “do you just hang out in weird corners of this complex to freak people out?”
nothing.
he lifts a pair of dark jeans, shakes them out. you watch his fingers. they're pale. long. too clean for someone who lives in this building. you’ve lived here your whole life and never seen him before last week — and yet...
he feels familiar.
“okay,” you continue, stepping off the table now. the room feels colder suddenly. “do you live here? or are you like... a freak with laundry privileges?”
still nothing. you laugh under your breath, but it sounds too loud in the silence. your heartbeat starts to climb your throat.
then he says it. quiet. low.
“you used to wait outside the bakery every thursday. same dark purple coat. hair in a slick bun. you never looked both ways when you crossed the street.”
the words stop you cold.
“what?” you ask, your voice barely audible.
he still doesn’t look at you. he presses a button on the washer. it whirs to life.
“i remember,” he says simply.
and then he walks out.
no explanation. no glance back. just leaves you standing there, spine prickling, air thick with something you can’t name.
you don’t move for a long time. the washer keeps spinning. and somewhere in the back of your mind, a door creaks open — something old, something buried. you know that voice. you know it.
but from where?
and why now?
───
you see him again the next week.
it’s late. everything always is these days. late nights, late thoughts, late feelings that come crawling out of places you’ve spent years trying to bury.
he’s there again by the mailboxes, half-shrouded in the dim glow of the overhead light. same hoodie, same stillness. like he’s always belonged to the dark. like the world moves around him, but never through him.
you don’t say anything this time. just glance at him, let your eyes linger a little too long. the silence stretches like fog between you, thick and almost heavy.
when you get back to your apartment, you sit on the floor of your room, knees to your chest, staring at nothing. trying to remember.
because it’s not just déjà vu. it’s more insistent than that. it’s something sharper. something that presses at the edges of your mind like a dull knife.
you know him.
or—at least, you’ve seen him before. not in this life maybe, but in another version of it. in a hallway, maybe. in a photograph. in a moment you never thought would matter until it does.
you try to pull it apart, memory by memory. but your brain is tired and tangled, the way it always is when you think too hard about the past. especially your own.
your mom used to say you were dramatic. that you let small things become monsters under the bed. “don’t be so sensitive,” she’d snap, when you cried over things she didn’t understand. “you make everything so hard for yourself.”
your dad never said much at all.
they were loud in the wrong ways. silent in the ones that mattered. and you learned early how to turn your feelings into puzzles with missing pieces — complex enough to keep you distracted, but unsolvable enough to stop you from ever really facing them.
and yet, riki… there’s something about him that pulls at those missing pieces. like maybe he was one of them. like maybe he slipped into your life through a crack in the wall and waited, patiently, for you to notice.
was he from your old school? a kid from your neighborhood? someone you passed in a crowd once and never forgot, even if you didn’t realize it?
you hate not knowing. hate how it makes you feel like a child again — helpless and unsettled. desperate for answers no one’s willing to give.
maybe that’s what this really is. not fear. not obsession. just the ache of a memory that refuses to resurface.
he’s a question mark in human form. and you’ve never been good with uncertainty.
you don’t see him again for days.
which should be a relief. it should give you space to think, to forget. but it doesn’t. it just makes everything louder. the silence, the questions, the feeling in your gut that something is watching you — or waiting.
your sleep turns thin and restless. shadows stretch too long across your walls. you start leaving your bedroom light on. just in case.
one night, you wake up at 3:12 a.m., heart racing for no reason at all. it takes a second to realize what pulled you out of sleep — a sound. something light. deliberate.
a knock?
you hold your breath. wait. nothing.
you get up anyway.
there’s no one at the door. of course not. but something catches your eye as you start to turn back — something lying just at the edge of your doormat. small. folded. a piece of paper.
you hesitate, then pick it up. it’s blank on the outside. no name. no writing. nothing.
you open it slowly.
inside, in rushed, almost messy handwriting, are six words:
“do you really not remember me?”
your throat goes tight. your first instinct is to look around, scan the hallway, check the peephole twice. there’s no one.
no sound.
just that question burning in your hands.
do you really not remember me?
your fingers shake a little as you fold it back up. your brain is moving too fast and not fast enough at the same time. and that feeling — the one that’s been gnawing at you for days — it blooms in your chest like a scream that never makes it out.
because now it’s real. now you know you aren’t imagining it. the familiarity, the tension, the way your spine goes rigid every time you see him —
he knows you.
he’s known you.
and maybe you did know him once, too. maybe you still do, buried under everything you’ve forgotten on purpose.
you think about the look in his eyes that first night. the way he never said a word. the stillness of him.
you think of the hallway. the sound that woke you. the note.
you think of how you told your friend the other day, half-laughing, half-serious: “there’s someone watching me, it’s my anxiety.”
but what if it’s more than that?
what if it’s not just in your head?
what if it’s him?
───
it hits you in the middle of folding laundry.
something about the way your fingers move. something about the light slanting in through the kitchen window. warm, but not comforting. and all at once, you’re not in your apartment anymore.
you’re in a house. someone else’s. maybe your own. there’s music playing — muffled through a closed door. a cheap stereo with tinny speakers. old j-pop, the kind that loops endlessly on cassettes. the wallpaper is peeling in one corner.
and then—
a voice. soft. younger. yours.
"why do you always hide when they come home?"
someone's sitting in the hallway. knees pulled to their chest. head down. shadows in the space between them like they’re both in different dimensions.
and then he looks up.
not the man in the stairwell. not riki, not yet. just a boy. sharp eyes, hollow cheeks, hair too long in front. there’s a cut on his lip. fading purple under his eye.
“because it’s safer,” he says.
the air warps around that line, like heat off asphalt. she wants to reach for him, wants to say something back, but the memory curls tighter around her, swallowing the end of it before she can hold on.
then it’s gone.
just like that.
you blink down at the pile of laundry in your lap, hands gone still.
your chest feels tight. throat aching, like you swallowed something heavy. the apartment feels colder than it should. that voice — his voice — still rings somewhere in your bones.
because you’ve heard it before. not recently. years ago.
and suddenly you’re thinking about your father’s anger. how he used to break things before he yelled. how sometimes he didn’t yell at all. how the silence always scared you more. how you stopped inviting friends over after age ten. how there was one boy you let in. once.
his name—
you press the heel of your palm to her forehead, hard, like you can shake it loose.
it won’t come. not yet.
but the shape of it is there, curling at the edges of a memory like smoke. and the boy with the bruised mouth and quiet eyes — he's not a stranger.
not even close.
later that night, you can't sleep.
there's a weight on your chest that won’t lift no matter how you shift under the sheets. it’s not insomnia — it’s memory. something clawing at the back of your skull, begging to be seen.
so you get up.
the air in the apartment is too still. even the hum of the fridge feels distant. you don't bother with the lights. just moving barefoot and slow, like any noise might scare the truth away.
the closet in the hallway creaks when you open it. you kneel. pushing past shoeboxes, tangled cords, the mess of forgotten things. until your hand hits the one you’re looking for.
a red box. scuffed corners. cheap velvet peeled at the edges. inside: scraps of a childhood. yours.
old keychains, broken friendship bracelets, polaroids faded to brown. concert tickets. a snow globe from sapporo. and then—
a photograph.
creased down the center. color bleeding with age. a summer day, maybe. you’re younger. seven or eight. awkward teeth, sunburnt nose, some awful haircut her mother swore looked cute. and beside you —
a boy.
not smiling. just… there. close, but not touching. eyes dark and watchful even then.
and it’s him.
riki.
only it wasn’t his name back then, was it? he went by ni-ki.
your breath catches. you sit back on your heels, heart thudding in your ears.
how could you forget? they lived on the same street. just four houses down. his mom used to walk him to school until she didn’t anymore. and then he stopped coming altogether.
after that, he vanished. until now.
until the stairwell. until the way he didn’t speak but looked at her like he knew everything.
you swallow the sick twist in your stomach. the sudden, sharp cold shivering down your spine.
why was he back?
and why you?
you leave the photo on the kitchen island.
maybe it’s careless, maybe even stupid, but you tell yourself it’ll make more sense in the morning. you’ll wake up, look at it with clearer eyes, and it won’t feel like your chest is caving in. besides, you live alone. and it’s just a photo.
just a photo.
you drag yourself to the couch, the blanket scratchy against your legs, exhaustion curling into your limbs like smoke. you fall asleep fast — but it’s the wrong kind of sleep. thick, dreamless, heavy with something you can’t name. a noise pulls at you. a door. or a voice. or your own heart cracking open.
you wake up just as the first light creeps through the windows. your mouth is dry. your tongue tastes like copper.
something is off.
you walk into the kitchen, still half in a fog—and stop.
the photo is gone.
you freeze, staring at the empty spot where it had been, your thoughts moving too fast and too slow all at once. the red box is still there. untouched. the lid sitting open like a mouth waiting to swallow more. you check the floor. under the fridge. between papers. nothing.
no one could’ve taken it.
the door was locked. the windows haven’t budged. you were here. you were alone.
a chill slides down your spine, sharp and crawling. you think of him again. the way he looked at you in the stairwell. not confused. not curious.
just watching.
like he already knew what you would find.
your breath catches. you don’t even realize you’ve backed up until your shoulder hits the wall.
you don’t understand what’s happening, but something is— and it’s closing in.
the silence hums in your ears. the wind slips against the glass like breath. and then you see it.
something on the kitchen table.
not the photo. but something folded.
small. white. placed exactly where the photo had been.
your name is written on the front.
in handwriting you almost recognize.
you stare at the folded paper like it might burn through the table. your name, in soft, slanted letters—almost familiar, like a half-remembered dream. the kind you wake up from with your chest tight and eyes wet, but can’t explain to anyone without sounding insane.
your fingers hesitate.
you don’t want to touch it. you want to burn it. you want to leave the apartment and never come back.
but your hand moves anyway, like it isn’t yours. like you’re being pulled by something older than memory.
the paper is heavier than it looks. the kind of paper someone saves. the kind that lives in boxes under beds, waiting to be found.
you unfold it slowly. deliberately.
the first line makes your stomach drop:
“you used to laugh with your whole face.”
your throat tightens. your vision blurs at the edges. you keep reading.
“i remember when you were afraid of thunderstorms. you’d hide under the table with that stuffed bear. the one with the missing eye.”
you sink into the nearest chair. it creaks beneath you. your heartbeat pounds in your ears like thunder.
how does he know that?
no one remembers that.
not even your mother—too busy fighting shadows of men who never stayed long enough to learn your name.
you blink hard, trying to push away the sting in your eyes. your hand shakes as you reach the last line:
“it’s okay if you don’t remember me. i remember you.”
the note isn’t signed.
but you already know who it’s from.
and you’re not sure if that makes it better… or so much worse.
you find yourself standing at the corner of the street, unsure of where to go or how to breathe. the note is heavy in your hand, the words on it are still too real. still too impossible to wrap your mind around.
but you can’t ignore it anymore. you’ve been running from something, running from the truth, but it’s all catching up with you. and it starts with one thing—one person—who might just hold the answers.
you text jake. i need to talk to you.
he replies almost immediately: come over. i’ll make coffee.
you don’t hesitate. your body moves before your brain can catch up.
jake’s apartment smells like coffee, like books, and like something homey you can’t quite place. you’ve always liked it here—quiet, safe, with jake’s easy smile and the way he always listens like he doesn’t have a million things on his plate.
but today, when he opens the door, his smile falters. his eyes linger on the note in your hand before he invites you in.
“what’s going on?” he asks, his voice soft. “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“worse,” you murmur, sitting down at the kitchen table. “riki. the guy from my apartment building. the one i’ve been thinking about.”
jake’s face changes. his usual calm demeanor cracks for a split second, but it’s enough. enough to make you sit up straighter, enough to make your heart skip a beat.
“what do you mean, the guy you’ve been thinking about?” he asks carefully. “y/n, you’ve been telling me you’ve never met him before. he’s just some weird guy who shows up at random times. are you sure you’re okay?”
you hesitate. the note is still in your hand. you want to show it to him, but something holds you back. you can’t explain this to him without sounding insane.
“he knows things, jake. about me. about my childhood. stuff no one would know.” you pause, swallowing hard. “it’s like he’s been... watching me.”
the silence in the room thickens. jake stands still, his hands gripping the edge of the table. you can feel his mind working through it, piecing things together. finally, he exhales sharply.
“you know who he is, don’t you?” jake’s voice cracks just a little, and you hate that you can hear it.
“he’s riki,” you whisper. “i know it.”
jake looks like he’s just seen a ghost too. but it’s worse than that. it’s betrayal, old wounds you never knew were still there.
“how do you know him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
jake runs a hand through his hair, his face tight with something you can’t read. "riki... he was my best friend back home. we were inseparable when we were kids, after he randomly showed up one day. before everything in his home town happened. before he disappeared from there."
you lean forward, your heart racing. "why did he disappear?"
jake looks away, his eyes shadowed with memories. "riki got tangled up in some bad stuff, y/n. things that don’t go away, things that ruin people. he got in with the wrong crowd—gangs, debts, all kinds of shit. he disappeared from there too and... no one ever really knew what happened. but the rumors started. they said he ran. he left everything behind."
your throat tightens. “but... he didn’t.”
jake’s gaze is heavy, dark. “no. he didn’t. he’s been trying to stay hidden ever since. but some ghosts don’t stay buried, y/n.”
your chest tightens. you’ve been living in the shadow of something you can’t even remember fully. and now it’s back.
───
later that night, you find yourself standing in front of riki’s door, your heart hammering in your chest. you knock once, twice, and wait.
the door opens slowly, and riki stands there, eyes wide, almost guilty. he looks different in the light, darker somehow, worn and tired. but the same fire is still there. it’s still riki.
“you know, don’t you?” he says, his voice tight, like he’s holding something back.
you nod, your voice barely above a whisper. “you disappeared. you ran. kept running. and i don’t understand why.”
riki’s eyes flicker with something—pain, maybe. “it’s not that simple. there’s things you don’t know, things i can’t tell you.”
you step closer, ignoring the hesitation in your chest. “i need to know, riki. everything. i need you to tell me.”
his jaw clenches. but then he opens the door wider, his shoulders slumping as he gestures for you to come inside.
you step into his dimly lit apartment, your heart racing. the room feels charged with something unspoken, like the air is holding its breath.
“i didn’t want you to get involved in all of this,” riki says, his voice raw. “but now that you know, i can’t just leave you hanging.”
you take a step forward, your hand trembling as you reach for him, the tension between you unbearable. “you’re not alone in this anymore, riki. i’m here.”
he looks at you, eyes haunted, like he’s trying to decide if he can trust you. then, without warning, his lips crash against yours.
you freeze for a second, the intensity of it taking you by surprise. but then your body reacts, pulling him closer, kissing him back with everything you’ve been holding in. it’s messy, desperate, like neither of you knows what’s happening but can’t stop it.
his hands are everywhere—on your waist, your back, your neck—like he’s trying to memorize you, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
your heart is racing, your body pressed against his, and for a moment, everything feels like it’s on fire.
riki pulls back, his breathing shallow, his forehead resting against yours. the tension between you two is still there, but it's different now — softer, like a thread connecting you in a way neither of you can fully explain.
"y/n," he says, his voice low but intense, trembling slightly. "there are things i never wanted to tell you, things i couldn't bear to say. i thought it would be easier to push you away, to make you hate me before you found out... but i can't do it anymore. i can't keep lying to myself."
you step back a little, your chest tightening as you watch him. his eyes are full of so many emotions—regret, pain, love—but it’s the last one that makes your heart ache with something you didn’t expect.
"i’ve been in this dark place for so long, y/n. i never thought i could get out of it. i pushed everyone away, especially you, because i knew if i let you in, you’d see the mess i am... but you’re the only one who’s ever mattered. i’ve always known it, even when i was too afraid to admit it. i love you."
his words hang in the air, raw and vulnerable. and you feel something inside of you break wide open—something you’ve been trying so hard to protect, trying to hide.
“i’ve always loved you,” riki continues, his voice softer now, almost like he’s confessing a secret that’s been buried for too long. “even when i tried to run from it, even when i tried to push you away... you were always the one. always.”
you can barely find your voice, overwhelmed by the tenderness in his words. "riki, i—"
but he shakes his head, cutting you off gently. "no, listen. i know i’ve hurt you. i know i’ve been distant, but everything i did... i did it because i was scared. scared of losing you. scared of what you’d think of me if you knew everything. but i can’t hide anymore. not from you. i’ve never stopped loving you. not even for a second.”
tears sting the back of your eyes, but you blink them away, letting his confession settle inside you. your heart feels too full, too full of emotions you don’t know how to contain. you take a deep breath, your voice trembling when you finally speak.
“i’m not going anywhere, riki,” you whisper, the words catching in your throat. “i never was. i don’t care about the past... i don’t care about what happened before. i care about you. i’ve always cared about you.”
for a moment, neither of you moves. the world feels so quiet, like everything has stopped, and it’s just the two of you in this space—this moment where everything you’ve both been hiding finally comes to light.
riki steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumbs brushing over your skin. his eyes are soft now, almost like he’s memorizing every detail of you, like he never wants to forget this moment.
“can i kiss you again?” he asks, his voice so soft, so unsure. it’s like he’s asking for permission, like he’s afraid of making the wrong move.
you nod, your breath catching in your throat. “please,” you whisper.
and then, his lips are on yours, gentle but urgent, like everything he’s held inside of him is pouring into this kiss. his hands slide to your back, pulling you closer, and you melt into him. you kiss him back with everything you’ve been holding onto, everything you’ve been feeling but never knew how to say.
when you pull back, both of you breathless, riki presses his forehead to yours, his hands resting gently on your hips. his eyes are full of that same tenderness, that same love that’s been there all along.
“i love you, y/n,” he whispers again, this time with more certainty, more peace. “and i always will. no matter what.”
and in that moment, you know, without a doubt, that everything—every question, every fear, every hesitation—has been worth it. because now, in this space, with him, everything feels right.
“i love you too, riki,” you say softly, the words more sure now. “i always will.”
and the kiss that follows is more than just passion—it’s a promise.
he breaks the kiss and leads you to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed. he pulls you onto his lap and crashes his lips against yours once again.
but this kiss, it’s different than the others.
it’s hot. fiery. desperate.
his tongue bullies its way into your mouth, fighting for dominance which you happily give him. as you continue making out, he becomes increasingly handsy. they fly from your jaw, to your shoulder blades, sliding down to rest on your ass. he grips your clothed flesh with desire.
and that's when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness settled between his legs. pressed against your burning hot core.
you gasped into his lips and he swallowed it up eagerly.
he rolled your hips down onto his crotch, seeking friction to ease his hard on. groaning into the kiss, he broke it, tilting his head back.
you carefully observed how his adam’s apple bobbed each time he swallowed, your self control fading into nothing. reaching out to grab his neck, you lightly apply pressure as you leave sloppy, wet kisses all over his jaw. your eyes drop to his collarbones, noticing his hoodie getting in the way.
you shift in his lap, knees sinking further into his bed as your hands find his shoulders for balance. riki looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly like he’s caught between breath and want. his hoodie is bunched up from where your fingers had tugged at the hem earlier, and when you reach for it again, he doesn’t stop you.
you pull it over his head slowly, your fingers grazing warm skin as the fabric slides up and off. beneath it, he’s wearing a black tank top that clings to him in all the right places—soft cotton stretched over lean muscle, tracing the shape of his chest and the dip of his waist.
his collarbones catch the low light of the room, sharp and defined, leading down to the elegant curve of his neck. you can see the slight rise and fall of it as he swallows, your gaze drifting lower to the sculpted line of his biceps, muscles flexing subtly under your weight, like he’s holding back.
he looks devastating like this—relaxed and bare in a way that feels forbidden, like you’re seeing something no one else is allowed to.
"you’re staring," he says quietly, a flicker of amusement in his voice, but there's a softness to it too, like he doesn’t mind being seen this way. like he wants you to look.
you smile, brushing your fingers across his shoulder, down his arm, feeling the strength beneath the surface. "can you blame me?"
he laughs under his breath, hands settling at your hips, warm and steady. "not really."
you lean in closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck, right where it meets his collarbone. he shivers under your touch, and you feel it in your core—how easy it is to fall into him, how right it feels to be here like this.
you push him further on his bed, his back hitting the soft comforter, hands never leaving your hips.
he captures your lips once again in a kiss that's delicate, like he’s trying to process everything but he can’t. are you really here with him right now? his childhood best friend who he forced himself to cut contact with—but then again, did he ever really cut contact with you? he had to make sure you were okay one way or another, so he watched from the shadows. even if it meant sacrificing his greatest love. you.
as if you could sense the gears overheating in his brain, you pull away from him and stare into his familiar brown eyes. he pouts and you see a glimpse of ni-ki. the scared, eight year old who you’d give up anything to protect.
he cradles your face like you’re made of glass and whispers, “are you sure you want this, angel? because once i start… i don’t think i’ll be able to stop.”
you nod your head, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for him, “words, baby. i need words, hmm?” you bite back a flustered smile, “yeah ni-ki, i want this. you.”
he grins hearing his childhood name fall out of your soft, sweet lips and picks you up off his lap so he can rest with his back against the headboard.
settling back on his thighs, and becoming increasingly impatient, you roll your hips against his, surprising him.
he lets out a breathy moan, urging you to continue. you want to hear each of his pretty sounds.
pressing your clothed clit into the tip of his dick, he closes his eyes, biting his lip. you feel him pulsing beneath you, the thin layer of his sweats not doing much to hide his arousal.
neither of you have ever been this turned on just by kissing, heavy petting, and grinding. but neither of you dare to stop. it feels too good, like a craving you’ve subconsciously had.
riki pauses the movement of your hips, being the first one to break this careful, but familiar, tension between you two. “baby, give me a sec. i’m c-close,” he mutters.
wanting to see what he looks like when he finishes, you grin, dragging your hips down harder and slower, in a teasing manner. he groans, but with the same teasing energy, bucks his hips up into yours, allowing you to feel just how big he is—and he knows it, too. judging by your reaction, he can tell it’s been a while since you’ve both been intimate with someone else.
feeling his release closer than he’d say out loud, he takes control of your movements, speeding them up. you can feel how badly he needs this. how desperate he needs you.
the friction of his covered cock rubbing repeatedly on your sensitive clit, feels better than anything you’ve ever tried with others or yourself. you’re both panting, forehead to forehead, when everything comes crashing down. riki releases into his gray sweats, making a mess. he swears he’s never cum that hard. and your panties get increasingly sticky and uncomfortable.
basking in the aftermath of your shared orgasm, riki gently holds you by the waist, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. lots of “you did great,” “that felt so good, baby,” and a lot of whining. “i need you so bad,” “please, angel, i’ll make you feel so so good.”
who are you to deny your first and only love?
you slowly stand on wobbly legs, stripping, giving riki a show.
he gawks as you remove each item of clothing, starting with your shirt. he’s surprised you aren’t wearing a bra but when your perky tits come into his eyesight, he’s right in front of you. grabbing—licking—whatever’s closest to his mouth and hands.
feeling a bit exposed, while he’s still fully clothed, you whimper into his mouth, silently asking him to take his clothes off as well.
speeding up the process, he rips his tank top off and finally. finally. you get a glimpse of what he always hides under his baggy hoodies. sculpted by the greek gods, you nearly drool at his defined torso. reaching out to drag a hand down his abs, riki shivers at your gentle, yet burning, touch.
you back him up so he sits on his bed and slowly sink to your knees. he leans back on his palms, quiet, but watching you like a hawk. you bring a hand up to cup his bulge, not caring about the sticky stain he’s left.
he groans, low, hot, and it goes straight to your wetness, practically leaking on his floor.
with your hands gripping his waistband, you look up into his dark eyes, clouded with lust, and he nods lifting his hips. yanking his sweats down, you’re met with his hard cock, slapping his abs. “no boxers, huh?” you smugly ask, as if he anticipated this. “nah, not when i’m relaxing, sweetheart.” sweetheart. the name he called you the last day you saw him as kids.
staring at his flushed cock, you lick your lips, ready to devour the man sitting in front of you.
you start by gripping his base, your fingers not fully wrapping around him. how the fuck are you supposed to fit him inside your mouth? a problem you’ve never faced, but for riki? you’d be stupid not to choke on it.
giving his tip sweet little kitten licks, you dig your tongue into his slit, as if you were trying to drink up all his precum. “fuck,” he grunts out, hoping you didn’t discover how sensitive he was at his tip.
he thinks you didn’t, but he should really know better.
you focus all your attention on his swollen head, sucking softly and jerking off the rest of his lengthy dick. his back falls flat, resting on his bed, while he lets out a symphony of moans.
abruptly, you pull off him and when he leans up on his elbows to see why, he’s met with the sight of spit falling from your lips, landing right on his tip. then, his vision goes white.
you lean down, shoving him in your mouth, lips stretched around his girth.
you take him halfway, and the stretch alone is painful already. knowing this might be an issue, riki speaks up, “fuck, you don’t have to take all of me, this already feels so—” but you cut him off, when you sink your mouth further, his tip hitting your throat.
you swallow around him and he whimpers. he’s never felt anything like this before.
when he’s tried to hook up with girls in the past, they normally gave up after a minute of trying to unhinge their jaw to please him.
but with you? he should’ve known you’d be the one to make him proud.
noticing how surprised he is, you start bobbing your head up and down, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.
it’s messy, wet, and loud. but neither of you care. not when riki is whimpering beneath you so prettily.
his tip repeatedly slams into the back of your throat, making you gag but it just turns him on more. his thighs start to tense and he knows he’s close to his second orgasm.
feeling him twitch in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and ignore the tears streaming down your face. only focused on his pleasure. you know exactly what will push him over the edge, so you bring your mouth up his cock, lips wrapped carefully around his tip.
swirling your tongue around it, occasionally focusing on his slit, you bring one hand up to his balls and the other to wrap around his base, applying pressure to the vein running along his shaft.
one second later, your mouth gets flooded with his sticky, hot cum. rope after rope shooting from his enlarged tip. his dick is pulsing in your mouth and his cum never ends. it’s spilling out of your mouth onto the floor, but you try and swallow everything you can, not wanting to waste even a drop.
his chest is rapidly rising and falling when you pull off of him with a pop. you wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your shirt and smile sweetly at him, acting like you didn’t just suck him so good his soul left his body.
“damn, baby, didn’t know you wanted me that bad.” he says through a smirk. “calm down nishimura, i could’ve filled up a gallon of water with how much you came,” you bite back. he just looks at your tear stained cheeks and a sense of pride swells in his chest.
while he’s lost in his thoughts, you stand up, knees bruised from his hardwood floor.
glancing between his legs, you notice he’s still hard. how much cum does he have for you? you wonder, taking off your jeans and panties in one go.
now that you’re both fully naked, riki gets up off his bed and approaches you, holding one of your hands. he spins you around, taking in your fully nude body for the first time.
noticing his staring, you open your mouth, “are you just gonna stare or fuck me?”
smoothly, he leads you to lie down on his bed, “patience, princess, be good for me while i take care of you, yeah?” oh you’re gone already.
he leans down to kiss you and your hands find his nape, gently grabbing the hair trailing down his neck.
you mistook riki for an ass guy, when his fascination with your tits makes you break the kiss. he’s sucking gently on your right nipple, his free hand finding your left boob.
moaning gently, you tip your head back into his pillow that smells like comfort, and something musky, but it’s something extremely riki. you instinctively arch into his touch, bare core desperately grinding into the air of his bedroom, desperate for friction.
he senses your neediness, bringing his stiff cock down to rub between your soaked folds. his tip catches your clit, eliciting soft whimpers from your parted lips. using your slick as lube, he lines himself up, stopping before he goes further. “condom?” he sweetly asks. you whisper, under your breath, “n-no, i’m on birth—,” however, you don’t get to answer him when you feel his tip slide into your awaiting hole.
both moaning in relief, he stays with just his tip in, preparing you for the stretch that’s about to come. you relax a bit, a signal for him to push a bit further, cutting off his action with a loud moan.
it’s better than any porn he could dream of, and he’s only about two inches in. the sheer girth of him alone makes it feel like he’s splitting you open in the best way possible.
you look down, thinking he’s halfway in, when in reality, he’s about a fourth of the way inside you. meeting his eyes, he senses your nerves, bringing a hand down to rub your sensitive bundle of nerves.
it helps distract you from the pain, allowing him to slide half way in. he groans at the sensation of your warm, wet walls, engulfing his aching cock. “baby, you gotta relax… you’re s’tight,” he drunkenly mumbles. you can only whimper in response, exhaling as you try to calm down.
once your breathing has returned to a normal state, riki slowly pushes in more, but it all comes to a halt when you wrap your legs around his torso, pulling him all the way in.
he moans, caught off guard, guessing your patience snapped like a thin wire.
as his thick length rests inside you, you can’t help but let out a string of moans, incoherently babbling about how big he feels, and how deep he’s reaching.
“f-fuck. baby, please, can—can i move?” he forces out. you hum in agreement.
he slowly pulls out until only his tip is sheathed inside your warm pussy, then pushes back in all the way. your eyes roll into the back of your head, “fuck. s—s’big, riks.” his pace steadily increases until he notices how your boobs bounce with each thrust he gives you.
he brings his head down, lips wrapping around one of the perky budd, giving you even more pleasure than you knew what to do with.
loud moans grace his ears, the only other sound being skin slapping.
his attention is dragged back to your face when one of your hands reaches for his and brings it up to your neck. his pace falters for a bit until his face contorts, realization dawning over his lust filled features. “oh? does my baby wanna be choked? dirty slut.” you nod in response.
feeling the pressure of his cold ring clad fingers wrapping around your burning flesh, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension in your tummy building at a rapid pace.
riki suddenly pulls out of you, flipping you on all fours, placing a pillow under your stomach. he drags your hips up, kneading the plumpness of your ass. he slams back into you, reaching even deeper in your guts, as he hovers over your back.
“you like feelin’ me this deep, hm?” he takes your hand and places it over the bump you feel with every thrust. your noises are muffled by his bed, which ticks him off—he wants to hear every sound that slips through your mouth. noticing that you liked things a bit rough, he pulls your hair, bringing you flush against the hardness of his chest.
he stills inside you, letting you feel every inch, twitch, and pulse. he’s holding off his orgasm for as long as he can, but he’s not sure how long he can last when you keep clenching around him.
he knows it’s unintentional, but it feels too good, he just needs a second.
you can feel him breathing down your neck when you begin to move. he tries stopping you, but to no avail, you start bouncing on his stiffened cock.
“f-fuck. gonna—cum,” he moans when he attempts to pull out. you push him back down, needing to feel him fill you up. “no. inside,” is all you can muster when he makes a sound of confusion.
slowly gaining confidence, you turn around, and flip him over so you’re on top of him.
flustered by the change in positions, riki gasps when you start to move. his hand finds your clit, rubbing in tight circles.
the band in your stomach starts building, fueling both of your desperation.
your orgasm comes crashing down in waves, pushing riki to buck his hips up, fucking you through it. “that’s it, baby, let it out. c’mon, be a good girl f’me and make a mess,” he mutters out, wanting to prolong your pleasure for as long as he can.
as you cum, your walls uncontrollably clench around his dick, making it harder for him to slide in and out. he starts to chase his own high, gently placing your head back on his pillow and picking up your legs to rest on his shoulders.
he pistons in and out of you, mind hazy, consumed with the need to cum inside of you.
groaning, he stills in your abused cunt, flooding you with the gift of his cum. each pulse, you clench around his hard cock, milking him dry.
he’s on cloud nine, feeling the way you’re taking everything he could possibly offer you.
just as he thinks he’s nearing the end of his high, you whisper in a sultry voice, “you’re still hard, riks,” which makes his skin flush a deep red. his balls tighten and somehow a couple more ropes of cum shoot into your womb. he doesn’t know what you do to him, “take it out on me, baby, i can’t imagine how pent up you must be…” and that does it for him.
wanting to try something new, he straddles your torso, pushing your plush tits together. he aligns his sensitive cock between the flesh and slowly slides through. you stick your tongue out, trying to lick his tip each time it peeks between your boobs.
his cock is nearly too thick for your tits to wrap around him, but he doesn’t care. the sight is more than enough for him to finish.
he’s already close.
the sensitivity gets to him when you begin to hold your tits together, giving him an unobstructed view of you. each time your tongue laps at his slit, he feels himself growing closer to the high he so badly craves.
what really does it for him, is when you spit between your breasts, further lubing his cock. with a low, drawn-out moan, he paints your tits and face with his cum. the sight is too much, his balls go into overdrive, pulsing out more and more ropes of his white, messy load.
your mouth hangs open, wanting to taste more of the salty substance. he thinks you’re perfect.
he collapses on top of you, feeling spent and tired. it’s only when you whine about the stickiness between your legs, on your boobs, and on your face that he gets out of bed, rushing to his bathroom.
he makes his way back over to you with a warm washcloth, and the softest touch you’ve ever felt. he gently cleans the mess he made, only now realizing how much cum he gave you.
and you took all of it. his good girl.
once he’s done wiping away his mess, he picks you up bridal style, heading back to his bathroom. to your surprise, he drew you a bath, with scented candles—lavender. he remembered your favorite.
he helps you into the tub, climbing in behind you. he shampoos your hair, conditions it, and even washes your body with such care, it brings tears to your eyes.
after many hushed whispers, he drains the bathtub, helping you dry off and get into your (his) clothes.
you both get back into his bed, snuggled against one another, riki’s embrace wrapped around you warmer than any blanket could provide.
“riki?” you whisper, afraid to shatter the delicate silence. he hums in response. “please don’t leave me again,” you say trembling, a silent tear slipping down your cheek.
he turns you to face him, “hey, hey, hey, baby, i’m right here. and i know what i did was shitty, you deserved an explanation. but. i couldn’t let you get caught up in what i was doing. it was risky, i couldn’t be what you deserve,” he croaks out, tears wetting his lashes. now it was your turn to comfort him, “oh my riki,” you cooed, cradling his face.
“you did what you had to do, but what’s important is that you’re here now. with me. okay?” you plant the softest kiss on his plump lips. “okay,” he says with a small smile.
you don’t let go. neither does he. his hands stay on your waist, tentative but needing, like he’s still trying to memorize the feel of you. your fingers linger against his jaw, your thumb brushing the damp skin beneath his eye. there’s silence between you, but it’s no longer heavy—just full. thick with everything that couldn’t be said before.
his lips brush against yours again—slower this time, deeper. like a question. and an answer. you lean in, the way you sigh into him. it’s not desperate, not rushed. it’s reverent.
when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath is shaky. “i missed you,” he whispers, voice barely audible. “missed you so much i forgot how to breathe without it hurting.”
you cup his face in both hands now, heart aching in the best way. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.”
and then you kiss him again—like a vow sealed in warmth and want. like a beginning.
reblog if u enjoyed this! and comment or send an ask to be part of my perm taglist <3
[ @jaeyuniversal ] prod. 250419
summary: you needed money. he needed a fake girlfriend. easy deal, right? except he’s your best friend’s boss. and you’re one minor inconvenience away from setting something on fire. he’s cold, rich, emotionally unavailable. you’re loud, broke, and very good at pretending this isn’t slowly turning real.
genre: fluff | fake dating
characters: ceo!heeseung x f! broke ass reader
words: 12k?
warnings: none in this part
a/n: damn didnt know tumblr had a word limit so heres a 2 parter i didnt realise would be a 2 parter
part 2
You were in your final year of college, living what could only be described as the off-brand version of Hannah Montana. Two jobs, endless assignments, zero glam. You had the double life down—student by day, overworked part-timer by night—except instead of rocking out on stage, you were rocking a polyester apron and a mild caffeine addiction.
Despite working like a hamster on an espresso wheel, your bank account stayed somewhere between “embarrassing” and “haunted.” Thanks, student loans. They followed you like an ex who couldn’t take a hint—except this one charged interest and occasionally sent you emails that made your eye twitch.
Still, you powered through. Broke, yes. Sleep-deprived, absolutely. But functioning? Debatable.
Fortunately, your best friend Jake—resident golden boy, and somehow always suspiciously well-rested—had just landed a Big Boy Job. He was now the personal assistant to the Lee Heeseung. Which sounded impressive… you guessed. You wished someone had warned you what a big deal this guy was, but no one did. You didn’t know. You really didn’t.
You were three bites deep into your third roll of bread, barely chewing anymore. It wasn’t about manners—it was about survival. Tuition was due, your rent deadline loomed like a jump scare, and your bank account balance looked like a bad joke.
Jake sat across from you at the glossy conference room table, watching you with an expression that landed somewhere between mild horror and disbelief.
“Slow down,” he said, nudging the breadbasket just out of your reach. “The bread’s not running anywhere.”
You glared at him, a crust still stuck to your bottom lip. “Easy for you to say. You’re not living on instant noodles and silent sobbing.”
He wrinkled his nose. “You literally had coffee and a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast.”
“Because I couldn't afford a second spoonful.”
Flipping through your notes with one hand and clutching a half-eaten roll with the other, you tried to cram half a semester’s worth of marketing strategy into your already overloaded brain. You were multitasking. Efficient. A legend, if legends were broke and hungry.
Jake looked personally offended. “This is a workplace, you know. There are millionaires walking around here. You’re dropping crumbs on a seven-thousand-dollar chair.”
You paused mid-bite. “Seven what now?”
He tossed you a napkin with the kind of disappointment only a best friend could perfect. “Just—try not to look like a starving Dickens orphan if my boss walks in.”
You frowned. “Your boss?”
And that’s when the air changed—like a cold draft had slinked in through invisible cracks. Jake straightened. The playful glint in his eyes flickered out.
Speak of the devil in designer slacks.
The door creaked open, and in walked the heir to Luxen Technologies: Lee Heeseung.
Cold. Polished. Annoyingly symmetrical.
You promptly choked on your bread.
"That's your... boss?" you asked, staring as the man strolled in like he was walking on a Calvin Klein runway in slow motion, his coat flaring just slightly, hair annoyingly perfect.
Sure, he was good-looking. Objectively. Like, if you had a dollar for every sharp angle on his face, you could maybe afford two spoonfuls of peanut butter.
But you didn’t have time for men. You barely had time for yourself.
Here you were, fully dependent on your best friend and roommate’s snack stash and corporate pantry privileges, inhaling free carbs like your life depended on it—which, honestly, it kind of did. This had become your daily routine: roll out of bed, survive uni, raid Jake’s office for bread and maybe some emotional support tea every morning.
Jake sighed, already bracing for impact like someone who'd lived through this exact scenario too many times. “Look, you have to leave before he comes over and kicks you out.”
You snorted, entirely unbothered, and waved him off like he was being dramatic—which, to be fair, he usually was. Reaching for another roll from the meticulously arranged snack spread (which you were absolutely not supposed to touch), you said breezily, “He wouldn’t do that. Right?”
Jake didn't answer immediately. Instead, he gave you the kind of look reserved for people about to learn something the hard way. “He’s kicked people out for less,” he muttered, casting a wary glance at the growing constellation of crumbs you were generously distributing across the sleek, glass conference table—like you were decorating it for a carb-themed holiday.
Your chewing slowed. “Oh,” you said, mid-bite, hand frozen halfway to your mouth.
Silence.
The kind of silence that prickled.
Something shifted in the air, and you felt it—like animals sensing a predator approaching. You turned your head slowly.
And there he was.
Lee Heeseung. In the flesh. A few steps away and looking like he’d just walked into a crime scene. He was tall, sharp, and immaculately put-together, holding a tablet in one hand like it offended him. His eyes scanned the table, then landed on you—the uninvited guest currently mid-chew, hoarding bread rolls like it was your last meal.
If disapproval had a face, his was it.
Your brain, bless its useless soul, screamed: Run.
Your stomach had other plans: Finish the bread first.
And your hands? They casually reached for two more rolls while maintaining steady eye contact with the most terrifyingly attractive man you’d ever seen.
Honestly, if you were going to get kicked out, you might as well be full.
You glanced at Jake. With as much dignity as one could muster while chewing, you gave a dramatic bow, wiping a suspicious smear of butter off your cheek with the back of your sleeve. “Good day, Mr. Sim. I shall see you again tomorrow. Absolutely lovely businessy chat. So productive. Okay. Bye now.”
Jake snorted. Loudly. But you ignored him, choosing instead to hoist your laptop bag like a makeshift shield, holding it in front of your face in an attempt to avoid the burning scrutiny of one Lee Heeseung. Eye contact was the enemy. Recognition was a death sentence. And above all else: pantry access must be preserved.
If he ever put two and two together—that the very person chewing her way through his conference table like a feral carb-goblin was you—you were done for.
Goodbye, free bread. Goodbye, Jake’s fancy office snacks. Goodbye, dignity… not that there was much left to begin with.
You began edging toward the door, sidestepping like a raccoon caught red-pawed in the middle of a kitchen raid, trying not to look suspicious. Which only made you look so much more suspicious. And to make matters worse, the more you tried to vanish, the longer Heeseung stared.
His eyes followed you with a slow, assessing calm—like a predator trying to decide whether the strange creature in his territory was worth the energy to chase. He didn’t say a word. Just watched. Silently. Intensely. Unreadable.
Probably wondering who let the help in.
“Smooth,” Jake muttered behind his hand, clearly enjoying every second of your descent into awkwardness.
“Shut up,” you hissed, tripping slightly over your own bag strap on your way out, a quiet wheeze of panic slipping from your lips.
You didn’t dare look back until the elevator doors had closed behind you, safely sealing you in a metal box where embarrassment couldn’t reach you. Heart pounding. Mouth dry. Still tasting sourdough.
So that was him, you thought. Jake's boss.
And if he ever figured out who you were? You were screwed.
Meanwhile, back in the war zone formerly known as the conference room, Jake turned back around slowly to face his boss.
Heeseung didn’t look up. He was scrolling through his phone like none of that had just happened. “What time’s my meeting again?” he asked casually, thumb gliding across the screen.
“Three,” Jake replied quickly, slipping back into assistant mode with the smoothness of someone who really needed to keep his job. “Then another one at five with the UX development team. They’re presenting the wearable AI prototype.”
Heeseung gave a brief nod, still scrolling.
There was a beat of silence. Jake almost allowed himself to exhale.
And then—“Who was the girl?”
Jake blinked. “Girl?”
Now Heeseung did look up. One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted just a fraction. “The one eating the bread like it owed her money.”
Jake choked. “She's just...she's my friend.”
Heeseung narrowed his eyes, the phrase clearly not satisfying. “Your friend. In my conference room. During working hours. Helping herself to my carbs.”
“To be fair,” Jake offered, voice cracking like a freshman in choir, “they’re technically Luxen’s carbs. Also, you don’t even eat the bread—”
“She wiped her mouth with her sleeve,” Heeseung said, looking deeply betrayed. “Do people do that?”
Jake had no idea if he was supposed to laugh, apologize, or call security on your behalf.
“She’s harmless,” he said quickly. “You won’t even see her again. I think."
Heeseung hummed, a noncommittal sound that somehow said everything. His gaze drifted back to his phone.
But Jake caught it.
A flicker at the corner of Heeseung’s mouth—so quick it almost didn’t happen.
Not irritation. Not disapproval.
Curiosity.
Almost.
—
Heeseung sighed.
It wasn’t that he hated his life. Far from it, actually.
He liked working. Loved it, even. There was something deeply satisfying about losing himself in spreadsheets, contracts, and a calendar so tightly packed it could give a scheduler heartburn. He was good at it—no, great at it. The kind of great that turned heads in boardrooms. The kind of great that earned nods of respect from executives twice his age. Even his notoriously competitive older brother and stone-faced father begrudgingly acknowledged his brilliance when it came to the company.
They weren’t jealous of his success—not exactly. Just… quietly resentful that their grandfather, the patriarch of the empire, seemed to have written Lee Heeseung in bold letters at the top of every metaphorical will, wish list, and family legacy blueprint. Heeseung was the golden boy. The prodigy. The one who could do no wrong.
Well—except in matters of the heart.
His grandfather, a man of steel nerves and silk pocket squares, had one tragic flaw: he was a hopeless romantic. The handwritten-letters, crying-during-Hallmark-movies, “Love conquers all” kind. Back in his youth, he had famously eloped with Heeseung’s grandmother after her parents forbade the match. It was the tale he recited at every family dinner like a dramatic bedtime story, wine glass in hand, pausing for emphasis with misty eyes and unnecessary violin music playing in everyone’s heads.
Now, he’d made it his personal mission to marry off every last descendant like he was casting a period drama.
And naturally, he took particular offense to Heeseung—the youngest, most accomplished, and most emotionally unavailable—refusing to so much as glance at romance. Not a flicker. Not a whisper. Not even the vague interest of someone who knew love existed in the same universe.
So imagine Heeseung’s horror when, despite all logic, he found himself distracted. Haunted, even. By the mental image of some girl with a mouthful of carbs, an unapologetic sleeve-wipe, and crumbs on her cheek like a personal brand.
Utterly ridiculous.
Infuriating, even.
There were precisely three things Lee Heeseung could not abide during work hours:
Unexpected visitors.
Long-winded conversations.
Family.
So, naturally, all three arrived in one dramatic flourish when the office doors slammed open with the subtlety of a wrecking ball wearing designer shoes.
“Seung!”
Heeseung didn’t glance up. He didn’t need to. That voice had the energy of a Broadway debut and the volume to match.
“Why is he here?” Heeseung asked flatly.
Jake froze mid-sip of his iced Americano, nearly choking on the absurdity of being blamed for something he had very clearly tried to prevent. “I told him not to—he didn’t even call—”
Heeseung finally looked up, just in time to watch the hurricane make landfall.
Grandpa Lee swept into the room like he still ran the place, all charisma and cologne, his cane purely decorative and his expression full of self-satisfaction. Former CEO. Founder of Luxen Technologies. Current full-time menace to his grandson’s blood pressure.
“Grandpa,” Heeseung said through clenched teeth, voice just shy of a groan. “You can’t keep barging in here every time you have a thought.”
“Of course I can,” the old man said cheerfully, already heading for the plush chair across from Heeseung’s desk. “It’s my building. My company. My bloodline. And also, you left Sunday dinner early, again, so I brought the discussion to you.”
Jake slowly sank into his seat, doing a decent impression of a man attempting to fuse with office furniture. He opened his laptop, not to work, but to pretend like he was somewhere—anywhere—else.
Across the room, Heeseung dragged a hand down his face, the weariness in his expression not from deadlines or meetings but from the familial storm that had just rolled in, all bluster and dramatic flair.
It wasn’t that Heeseung didn’t love his grandfather. He did. Deeply. He’d grown up listening to Grandpa Lee’s stories—some romantic, some insane, all borderline exaggerated. He loved the old man’s fire, his flair for theatrics, his unwavering belief in love.
But the thing was, Heeseung didn’t believe in love. At least not for himself.
Love happened, sure. It was cute in theory. Like puppies. Or those couples who held hands in grocery store aisles. But for Heeseung? The concept belonged in other people’s lives. He had things to build. A company to run. An empire to uphold. There wasn’t room in his carefully scheduled, emotionally vacuum-sealed world for candlelit dinners and grand declarations.
“Seung,” Grandpa Lee began, already digging into the contacts on his ancient phone like he was summoning a spell. “One of the kids—from—uh—SunTech, I think. His granddaughter—”
“Not interested,” Heeseung groaned, dragging his chair out and dropping into it like a man preparing for battle. He turned on his computer and focused all his energy on his Google Calendar, as if the overlapping blocks of color could protect him from whatever matchmaking scheme was brewing.
“She’s your age,” Grandpa insisted, swiping through what looked like a very poorly lit photo. “Exceptionally bright. Lovely eyes. Probably fertile—”
“I don’t care,” Heeseung said, without even blinking.
Grandpa Lee scoffed so hard, Jake briefly checked the air conditioning to make sure it wasn’t just the vents.
“Jake, my boy,” the old man thundered, turning to Jake with the dramatic flourish of a stage actor mid-soliloquy, “you best prepare an umbrella for tonight. The ancestors are going to cry from how rude my grandson is.”
Jake coughed behind his hand, clearly losing the battle not to laugh.
“Rude?” Heeseung repeated, eyes still fixed on his screen. “Didn’t you run away from your family to marry Grandma?”
“She was the love of my life,” Grandpa snapped, puffing out his chest like he was about to monologue about moonlight and destiny. Again.
“And didn’t you yell something along the lines of—what was it?” Heeseung pretended to think for a beat, then smirked. “Oh right. ‘Kiss my ass.’”
Grandpa Lee’s face wrinkled into an affronted frown. “You little—!”
He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, cane in one hand like he was about to duel.
Jake peeked up from behind his laptop, eyes wide, mildly alarmed.
Heeseung leaned back in his chair, looking irritatingly calm. “Just saying, if rebellion for love was good enough for you, maybe rebellion against love is good enough for me.”
“You’re twisting my legacy, you arrogant little–” Grandpa snapped.
Heeseung let out a long-suffering sigh. “I love you, Grandpa,” he said, not without sincerity, “I really do. But I don’t think—”
Whack.
The cane came down with expert precision, connecting with the top of Heeseung’s head before he could finish the sentence.
“Ow—! What the hell?! Grandpa!” Heeseung hissed in pain, one hand flying up to his hair as he recoiled in disbelief.
“That,” Grandpa Lee said, lowering his cane with the pride of a seasoned warrior, “was for being stupid. I may be old, but I’m not senile.”
Jake, valiantly trying to remain neutral, let out a sound that could only be described as a muffled snort, quickly masked behind his coffee cup. He was, unfortunately, enjoying this far more than his employee handbook allowed.
“You assaulted me,” Heeseung muttered, rubbing his scalp and glaring at the very man who used to tuck him in with bedtime stories about elopements and destiny.
“That wasn’t assault,” Grandpa countered, straightening his lapels. “That was discipline. You’re welcome.”
“You could’ve said something.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Jake quietly slid a packet of ice from the mini fridge toward Heeseung’s desk like a peace offering. Heeseung took it with a scowl, pressing it to his head as Grandpa settled back into the chair he had so dramatically abandoned.
“I’m not saying fall in love today,” Grandpa continued, voice a touch gentler now. “But open your eyes. One day, someone is going to walk into your life—and she won’t give a damn about your meetings or your title or your five-year plan. She’ll probably be a disaster. A whirlwind. And exactly what you need.”
Heeseung stared at him, unimpressed. “You’ve been watching those stupid dramas again, haven’t you?”
“I like them,” Grandpa sniffed, unbothered. “They speak to the soul. And unlike you, they have range. Emotional range."
Jake lost the battle with his laughter, letting it escape in a quiet wheeze.
Heeseung gave him a sharp look. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Not at all,” Jake said, already typing something into his notes app with far too much amusement. “Should I call Legal and ask about emotional damages from relatives?”
“Call a therapist while you’re at it,” Heeseung muttered.
Grandpa Lee stood again, “I’m not cancelling the date with SunTech’s granddaughter,” he announced, as if this declaration were final, written in stone, sealed by the ancestors themselves.
Heeseung groaned, already feeling the migraine bloom behind his eyes. “Grandpa. Cancel it. I’m not sitting around awkwardly sipping tea with some random girl—”
“Not random. SunTech’s granddaughter,” Grandpa corrected, his tone haughty, as though the corporate pedigree alone should be enough to send Heeseung into a frenzy of romantic interest.
“You don’t even know her name.”
“It’s something to do with the sun,” Grandpa said, waving a dismissive hand. “Sunny? Sunrise? Sunhwa? Something celestial. The details aren’t important.”
“Oh, I think they are,” Heeseung deadpanned.
“Seung.” His grandfather’s voice softened with a rare touch of sincerity. “Please. Just one date. One.”
Heeseung hesitated. Not because he was considering it, but because he was trying—desperately—to find a way out that didn’t involve disappointing the man who once taught him how to drive and also how to spot a bad merger.
“I can’t,” he said finally.
“And why not?”
Heeseung opened his mouth, then closed it. Thought. Thought harder. Came up with absolutely nothing. His brain was a clean whiteboard where excuses usually lived, but today, apparently, they’d taken the morning off.
He glanced at Jake. Still in his chair. Still sipping his iced Americano. Still laughing silently behind his laptop like this was a free improv show with catered snacks.
“Because…?” Grandpa prompted, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“Jake?” Heeseung said, turning toward his assistant like a man clinging to the edge of a lifeboat.
Jake blinked. The sip of coffee in his mouth stalled somewhere in his throat.
Oh, no. Oh, no no no.
Heeseung’s eyes screamed Help me. Jake’s brain screamed Why do I work here. But somewhere between panic and pity, an idea emerged—terrible, reckless, and unquestionably effective.
Jake cleared his throat. “Because,” he said slowly, “Mr. Lee already… has a girlfriend.”
The room went still.
Utterly, impossibly still.
Heeseung blinked once. “I what.”
Grandpa Lee's gaze sharpened like a hawk spotting prey. “You what?”
Jake could feel the weight of both their stares, but he pressed on, fully embracing the reckless commitment of a man now in far too deep.
“Yes,” he nodded, his voice unnaturally bright. “He has a girlfriend. Very real. Extremely non-fictional. You just haven’t met her yet.”
Heeseung turned to him slowly, his face a portrait of stunned betrayal. “Jake.”
Jake gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Go with it.”
Grandpa folded his arms, skeptical. “And why haven’t I met this girlfriend?”
Jake hesitated for only half a second—just long enough for his brain to spin a web of half-truths and whole lies. “Well, it’s still new. They only started seeing each other last month. And Heeseung’s, you know…” He looked at his boss meaningfully. “Shy.”
Heeseung let out a sound that could only be described as internal screaming.
“Shy?” Grandpa repeated, eyebrows raised like the concept was foreign.
Jake nodded solemnly. “Very reserved when it comes to feelings. Doesn’t like to share until he’s sure. That’s why he hasn’t said anything. It’s still early, and he’s trying not to mess it up.”
For a moment, Grandpa said nothing.
Just stood there, his sharp eyes narrowing, gears visibly turning behind them like he was piecing together a very juicy puzzle.
Then—“It’s that… Bread Girl, isn’t it?”
Heeseung blinked. “Bread girl?”
The name rang a bell. Faintly. Something Grandpa had muttered earlier about a chaotic woman who’d been assaulting his company’s carb inventory with reckless abandon. Right. Jake’s friend. The one who'd been in his conference room. The one who chewed like it was a competitive sport and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.
Jake’s eyes widened in alarm. “You… you saw her?”
“She knocked into me on her way out of the conference room just now,” Grandpa said, nostrils flaring like he was reliving the moment. “Nearly knocked my cane out of my hand. I was ready to launch into a full lecture on manners and public decency—until I saw the amount of bread she had crammed in her arms.”
He smiled, clearly delighted. “That’s when I knew. She wasn’t being rude. She was just in love. Hungry and in love. My favorite combination.” And without further warning, he pulled Heeseung into a firm, proud hug. “Keeping my granddaughter-in-law well-fed. That’s my boy.”
Heeseung stood there like a mannequin in a hostage scenario, arms limp at his sides, staring over Grandpa’s shoulder with wide, blinking disbelief. His gaze locked on Jake, who looked dangerously close to either exploding with laughter or faking his own death.
Was he going to throw his best friend under the bus?
Apparently, yes.
“Yep,” Jake said with a helpless shrug. “That’s her.”
Heeseung opened his mouth to protest—but then paused. The wheels in his brain, previously stuck in panic mode, began to turn. Slowly, reluctantly, but undeniably. There was an idea forming. A stupid, dangerous, possibly reputation-ruining idea.
But it might just work.
“She’s… shy,” Jake added, already spinning the web a little further, clearly hoping Heeseung would not kill him in his sleep later. “Which is why she hasn’t been introduced yet. It’s still… new.”
Grandpa pulled back just enough to give Heeseung a squint of suspicion. “New?”
Heeseung hesitated.
And then, with the kind of sigh one gives right before jumping off a metaphorical cliff, he nodded. “Yeah. We, uh… only started seeing each other last month.”
“She’s still adjusting,” Heeseung continued, falling into the role with the grim acceptance of a man who’d rather fake a relationship than go on another one of Grandpa’s curated matchmaking setups. “Not really used to… all this.”
“All this?” Grandpa gestured around the office.
“The… CEO thing,” Heeseung said, waving vaguely. “The attention. The—uh—pressure. You know how it is.”
Grandpa narrowed his eyes further, scrutinizing his grandson with the intensity of a man deciding whether to believe a magician or demand to see what’s up his sleeve.
Finally, after a beat of silence: “So you’re saying the girl who wiped her face with her sleeve in your conference room... is your girlfriend.”
Heeseung nodded once. “Yes?"
Grandpa considered. Then smiled. “Well, damn. That explains the crumbs.”
Heeseung exhaled slowly, like he’d just avoided death by PowerPoint. “So you’ll cancel the SunTech date now?”
Grandpa chuckled, already heading toward the door. “Of course, of course. I would never interfere in true love. But now that I know she’s real…” He paused dramatically at the door. “I expect to meet her properly next week. Bring her to dinner. No excuses. And tell her to bring an appetite. There will be baguettes.”
The door clicked shut behind him.
Silence.
Then Jake leaned forward, voice dry and just the right amount of judgmental. “You do realize what you just did, right?”
Heeseung leaned back in his chair, groaning as he pinched the bridge of his nose like he could physically squeeze the consequences out of existence. “Jake… I’m gonna need your friend’s phone number.”
Jake stared at him. Blinking. Processing.
“She’s going to kill me,” he muttered.
—-
You were halfway up the street, your backpack tugging at your shoulder and your feet dragging after a long day, when someone came jogging toward you from the bus stop.
“Hey! Hey hey—!” Jake’s voice rang out, breathless but chipper, his hand waving like he was flagging down a taxi.
You squinted at him. “Why are you running like I owe you money?”
He didn’t bother answering. Just grinned—way too wide, way too bright—and looped his arm through yours, tugging you along.
“I brought you dinner,” he announced, tone suspiciously light.
You stopped walking, brows pinched. “What?”
Jake held up a plastic bag in front of your face with exaggerated pride. The aroma hit you first, warm and familiar. You peeked inside.
Your eyes widened. “Is this—Sue’s? As in the good roast chicken?”
“With the chili oil packets,” Jake said smugly, clearly pleased with himself.
“You went all the way across town?” you asked, mouth falling open as you cradled the bag like it was gold.
He nodded, almost bouncing. “And there’s more.”
You narrowed your eyes. “More?”
“I ordered your bubble tea too. It should be here any minute.”
You gasped, hand flying to your chest. “Taro oat milk with brown sugar pearls?”
Jake mimicked a solemn oath, placing a hand over his heart. “Taro oat milk. Brown sugar pearls. No ice. Less sweet. Just how you like it.”
Your face lit up immediately. “You’re my favorite person. EVER!”
“I know,” he said, leaning into you with an overly sweet smile. “Just remember...that I love you. I love you. Deeply. Eternally. Unconditionally.”
You snorted, nudging him away with your elbow. “Okay, drama queen.”
But then he paused. His voice dipped just slightly, soft but steady. “I’m serious. I love you.”
You froze for a second.
Your smile faltered.
There was something off in his tone—too sincere, too heavy for a roast chicken and bubble tea run. You turned to look at him properly.
“Jake,” you said carefully.
He straightened, schooling his face into something resembling innocence. “Yeah?”
Your eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”
Jake blinked, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”
“You only say ‘I love you’ like that when something’s wrong. It’s your guilty voice. So what is it? Did you clog the sink again? Spill something on the couch? Sign me up for something I didn’t agree to?”
His laugh came out high-pitched and thin. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Jake.”
“It’s not bad,” he said quickly, holding up both hands.
“Oh my God,” you groaned. “What did you do?”
“It’s not illegal,” he added, stepping back slightly as you took a slow, threatening step forward.
“Jake.”
He held out the roast chicken bag like a shield. “Eat first. Yell later.”
You snatched the bag but kept your gaze locked on him, lips pressed into a flat line. “Talk.”
He scratched the back of his neck, clearly stalling, eyes darting around like he was hoping a car would hit him and end the conversation.
—
The door to your shared apartment swung open with a slam, and you stormed in like a woman possessed.
Jake had barely made it through the front door before you launched yourself at him like a sleep-deprived hurricane.
“YOU—YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE—”
“Wait—WAIT—THE CHICKEN—!” he squeaked, still trying to kick his shoes off as you flailed your arms with righteous fury.
You were half-thrashing, half-swatting at him with the plastic bag still clutched in your hand, the scent of roasted garlic and chili oil trailing behind every slap. Jake yelped, stumbling backward as he grabbed the nearest couch cushion to shield himself.
“IT’S FIVE HUNDRED PER DATE!” he shrieked. “WHY ARE YOU YELLING—”
“I’M YELLING BECAUSE YOU SOLD ME LIKE I'M SOMETHING YOU CAN BUY FROM THE STORE!” you cried, swinging the chicken like it owed you rent.
Right then, Jungwon’s bedroom door flew open with a bang. His hair was sticking up in all directions, eyes wide with panic, an oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder like it had lost the will to live.
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” he demanded, voice still hoarse with sleep. “Is someone dying?!”
“HES A FUCKING IDIOT, THAT’S WHAT’S GOING ON!” you shouted, jabbing a finger at Jake like a prosecutor presenting Exhibit A.
From behind the couch cushion, Jake winced. “Okay, I understand that you're mad."
Jungwon blinked, processing. “Dude, what the hell did you do?"
"HE WANTS ME TO FAKE DATE HIS BOSS!” you screamed again, nearly vibrating with rage.
Jake raised a finger. “For money,” he added helpfully, as if that made the entire situation perfectly reasonable.
Jungwon stood there for a beat, then tilted his head. “...Is the boss hot?”
The entire room fell into silence.
You turned to Jake slowly, brows lifting. “Wait. Is the boss hot?”
Jake’s grin spread, lazy and far too pleased with himself. “You tell me. You met him.”
Your brain stuttered. Froze. Replayed the memory of a tall man in a dark suit, judging you with cold eyes while you stuffed your face with carbs like a gremlin.
“Oh my god,” you muttered, dropping onto the couch like gravity had finally won. “You’re all insane.”
Jungwon wandered over and sat beside you, already reaching for the plastic bag. “I’m just here for the roast chicken,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Can someone pass me a leg?”
Jake, still crouched like a man dodging emotional bullets, gently placed the bag on the coffee table like it was a sacred offering. Then he looked over at you, head tilted, eyes wide and hopeful.
“So,” he said softly, “can I explain now? No hitting this time?”
You stared at him.
He grinned anyway.
And unfortunately for him, he was still within arm’s reach.
—
You sat on the couch like a judge ready to deliver a life sentence, arms crossed so tightly your shoulders were starting to cramp. The look on your face could’ve wilted houseplants. Jake, for once in his life, had the good sense to sit on the floor at a safe distance, hands folded on the coffee table like he was about to pitch a startup you were morally opposed to.
Jungwon sat cross-legged between you, gnawing on a chicken leg and swiveling his head left and right like a referee at a very dramatic tennis match.
“So,” Jake began carefully, voice high and overly gentle, “first of all, I just want to say that I love and appreciate you—”
“No,” you cut in, eyes locked on him. “Start with the part where you volunteered me—your best friend, your roommate, your tragically broke companion in poverty—to pretend to date Lee Heeseung. The CEO. The multi-billionaire. Your boss.”
Jake opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.
Jungwon, through a mouthful of chicken, offered, “That guy’s scarier than my thesis supervisor. And mine once made someone cry over a missing footnote.”
“THANK YOU!” you shouted, pointing at Jake like you were about to sentence him to community service.
Jake threw his hands up. “Okay, okay, yes, I panicked! Grandpa Lee was in the office, demanding to know why Heeseung was single, and I didn’t know what to say! So your name just—came out!”
“Like a demon leaving your body?” you snapped.
Jake pointed a finger at you. “Also, this is kind of your fault!”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“HE SAID YOU BUMPED INTO HIM!” Jake practically shouted, voice cracking. “And he saw, like, four bread rolls in your arms!”
“It was three!” you yelled, scandalized.
Jake flailed. “Okay, THREE! Doesn’t change the fact that Grandpa Lee saw you, assumed you were stealing company bread, and decided obviously you and Heeseung were secretly dating.”
You stared at him. “In what world does that even make sense—”
“SO THIS IS YOUR FAULT!” Jake yelled dramatically, pointing like you’d been caught on a crime scene.
You gaped. “I didn’t know the old man I bumped into was Heeseung’s grandfather! How is that my fault?!”
“I don’t know!” Jake shouted back. “But somehow it is!”
Jungwon raised a hand without looking up. “To be fair, you did look suspicious carrying that much bread.”
“I WAS HUNGRY!” you barked.
Jake groaned. “Look, I didn’t plan this, okay? It happened. It’s done. And now we just need to go along with it for a few fake dates—three, four tops—and we’re good.”
You glared. “This is literally fraud.”
Jake held up a finger. “This is capitalism—and you get paid. Five hundred per date.”
You opened your mouth to yell again—then paused.
Because five hundred… times four…
Your gaze dropped to the roast chicken on the table, suspiciously thoughtful.
Jake leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re doing the math.”
“No.”
“You are.”
Jungwon didn’t miss a beat. “Two grand.”
“Shut up,” you and Jake snapped in unison.
You sagged into the couch like the weight of student loans had finally won. “He’s not even going to like me.”
Jake tilted his head. “He already noticed you. Asked about the girl who ‘wiped her mouth with her sleeve like she was raised in the wild.’”
Jungwon snorted so hard he nearly choked.
You exhaled, long and slow. “...Fine.”
Jake’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“But if this backfires,” you said, pointing a chicken drumstick at him with all the gravitas of a loaded weapon, “I’m shitting in your room.”
Jake didn’t even blink. “That’s fair.”
Jungwon nodded solemnly. “Reasonable terms.”
—
As Heeseung always said—often, and with great pride—he wasn’t the relationship type.
Too much work. Too much noise. Too many unnecessary emotions clogging up the schedule.
People around him dated like it was a seasonal hobby. Fell in love in spring, broke up by fall, recycled the whole cycle again by winter. But for Heeseung? It had never been appealing. He didn’t need anyone. He liked being alone. He thrived alone.
He was an expert at sidestepping dating scandals. A pro at slipping out of flirty conversations with a well-timed smile and a conveniently urgent phone call. He could survive dinner parties full of “When are you getting married?” aunties without so much as a twitch in his left eye.
Composed. Controlled. Untouchable.
Until now.
Now, he was sitting in his office—his very sleek, very expensive office—surrounded by floor-to-ceiling glass, watching the Seoul skyline stretch out like a smug reminder that his life was supposed to be pristine.
And it was. Mostly.
His suit was charcoal grey, custom-tailored. His coffee, bitter and scalding, sat in its perfectly symmetrical spot on the table. His hair, of course, was slicked back with enough precision to win a military medal. Everything in his life was polished.
Everything… except this one absurd detail.
He exhaled slowly.
Jake.
Jake and his chronically reckless mouth.
This wasn’t the usual “Oops, I told the intern you’d review their pitch” kind of trouble.
This was “Oops, I told my grandpa you’re dating a girl you don’t know, and now she’s coming to a meeting at 2:30” kind of trouble.
Heeseung had handled high-stakes mergers. He’d stared down stone-faced investors and charmed half a dozen billionaires before lunch. But now? Now he was apparently in a fake relationship.
And paying for it.
Five hundred dollars per date.
He wasn’t sure which part offended him more—the relationship, or the invoice.
Jake had made it sound like she was some half-wild creature who pillaged the office pantry and vanished into the wind. Which… wasn't entirely inaccurate. But what Jake didn’t know—and what Heeseung would rather jump out the boardroom window than admit—was that he had noticed her.
Actually, he’d remembered her quite clearly.
Big eyes. Crumbs on her cheek. Confidence like she owned the place, despite clearly not belonging there. She’d looked him dead in the eye with a mouthful of bread and the pure, unbothered energy of someone who’d never been told “no” in her life. Honestly? It was a little bit impressive.
And yes. Fine. Maybe she was cute.
Not that it mattered.
Because Heeseung didn’t do feelings. He didn’t get involved. He didn’t believe in all that heart-fluttering, stars-aligning nonsense.
Cute or not, this wasn’t going to turn into anything.
It was just a favor. A fake setup. A temporary solution to a very loud grandfather.
That was all.
Heeseung leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and breathed through his growing irritation. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to perform feelings. He didn’t want to drink overpriced coffee with some girl pretending to be his girlfriend so his matchmaking grandfather could sleep peacefully at night.
A quick glance at his watch: 2:27 p.m.
—
You were pinching Jake’s side like your entire financial future depended on it.
“Ow!” he yelped for the third time, swatting at your hand. “Okay, I need those ribs!”
You didn’t care.
You were terrified.
No—beyond terrified. Every synonym in the English language applied. Petrified, horrified, on-the-verge-of-spontaneous-combustion. Your heart was trying to launch itself into space. Your soul was threatening to exit your body via sheer panic.
“Breathe,” Jake said gently, trying to peel your claw-like grip off his hoodie. “You’re gonna be fine. You look amazing. Honestly, if you weren’t my best friend, I would've totally tried to kiss you by now.”
“You’re not helping, Jaeyun,” you hissed, teeth clenched, eyes wide and manic like you’d just seen the end of civilization.
“Right, sorry,” he said quickly—still grinning, because Jake had zero fear of death, apparently.
You glanced at your watch.
2:25.
Ten minutes until showtime.
Your heart was doing Olympic-level gymnastics. Your stomach was performing Cirque du Soleil. Your brain was stuck on a loop of elevator music and “what if” scenarios.
You looked ahead—at the sleek, modern glass door of Heeseung’s office. Too clean. Too intimidating. Too expensive-looking. Even the potted plants screamed, You don’t belong here.
The panic hit like a freight train.
Without thinking, you grabbed Jake’s arm and yanked him back, nearly slamming both of you into a very offended-looking potted plant near the elevator.
“I can’t do this,” you whispered, voice shaking, hands clammy. “I cannot do this.”
Jake blinked. “Whoa—okay. Deep breath. You can do this. You’re just nervous.”
“Nervous is messing up a group project. This is like—I don’t know—faking a relationship with a corporate cyborg while praying I don’t end up blacklisted from every job ever.”
Jake made a soothing gesture. “He’s just a guy. A guy in a very expensive suit with the social skills of a brick and a caffeine addiction that’s borderline medical.”
You let out a half-sob. “Jake, what if I say something weird? What if I trip? What if he hates me on sight and then cancels the whole thing and somehow calls my school and gets me expelled just for existing—”
“Hey.” Jake grabbed your shoulders, firm but gentle. “Look at me.”
You did. Barely.
“You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re gorgeous. You’re the only person I trust with this because you’re the only one who could handle him. Even when he’s acting like some emotionally stunted AI in a suit.”
You sniffed. “I hate you.”
Jake smiled, soft and annoyingly sincere. “Love you too. Now breathe, princess.”
You inhaled. Exhaled.
Inhaled again. Slower.
It helped. Barely. But it helped.
Jake stepped back and nudged you gently toward the glass doors. “Go in there. Pretend you like him. Pretend you’re not thinking about chicken. Smile. Look mysterious. Say something deep like, ‘I don’t really believe in love.’ He’ll be confused. That’s how you win.”
A dry laugh escaped you—half squirrel, half dying engine. But still. A laugh.
Your watch blinked again.
2:28.
Showtime.
You straightened your shoulders, fixed your expression into something halfway pleasant, and took a step forward.
Let the corporate fake dating games begin.
—-
Heeseung sat alone in his office, posture perfect, fingers wrapped loosely around a coffee cup. His suit was sharp, pressed so crisply it practically gleamed. His expression, as always, unreadable.
Except for the slight crease in his brow.
Because she was late.
He glanced at his watch.
2:31.
Not catastrophic. But still. He didn’t like being made to wait. Especially not by someone he was paying.
He exhaled quietly, sipped his coffee, and shifted his gaze to the window—
—just in time to watch a girl crash headfirst into the glass office door.
He blinked.
There was a muffled thud, followed by a dramatic, “OW, MY FACE!” and Jake’s voice yelling, “OH MY GOD, ARE YOU OKAY?!”
The girl stumbled back, one hand pressed to her forehead, the other still valiantly clutching a bubble tea with a bent straw and a leaking lid. Her dress was cute, her hair a little windswept, and her face was lit up in full, blazing embarrassment.
Heeseung stared.
“This is your fault,” she snapped at Jake, rubbing the growing red mark on her forehead.
“If you hadn’t roped me into this, I wouldn’t have walked straight into your invisible death door.”
Jake gasped, wounded. “My fault?! Are you blind?! The door wasn’t even moving!”
“I was panicking! I thought you were going to shove me through it like a sacrificial lamb!”
“You were already walking!”
“You said, ‘smile and act normal’ right before I hit it. What part of that was helpful?!”
“You looked cute! Until, you know… the impact.”
Inside the office, Heeseung remained still. Coffee in hand. Silent. Watching.
Through the glass, their chaotic little argument carried on without shame. You were waving your hands in frustration; Jake was holding your elbow with exaggerated concern, both exasperated and wildly entertained.
It was loud. Messy. Unprofessional.
It was… oddly funny.
A faint tug pulled at the corner of Heeseung’s mouth before he even noticed it.
Not quite a laugh. Not quite a smirk.
Just… the suggestion of something warm.
Jake finally spotted him and started waving like a man trying to signal an aircraft.
“Let’s go already! He hates tardiness.”
You turned.
Your eyes met Heeseung’s through the glass—annoyed, wide-eyed, bubble tea still clutched like a fallen soldier in one hand.
Heeseung raised his coffee in silent acknowledgment.
And nodded.
You swallowed. “Great,” you muttered. “He saw all of that, didn’t he?”
“Every second,” Jake said cheerfully.
You groaned and took a cautious step forward. Jake placed a hand on your back and gently—but undeniably—shoved you through the door like you were an offering to royalty.
He guided you across the room like a handler walking a nervous show dog.
“Mr. Lee,” Jake said smoothly, already shifting into his polished Assistant Mode. “This is my friend.”
Heeseung didn’t respond right away. His gaze remained fixed on his coffee mug, fingers tapping lightly along the rim like it was conducting an orchestra only he could hear.
You stood stiffly in front of him, hands clasped like you were about to deliver a public apology. Jake stood beside you with the smug energy of a man watching chaos unfold exactly as he planned.
Finally, Heeseung looked up.
His eyes moved from Jake to you.
To your forehead.
Back to your eyes.
“…You’re late,” he said flatly.
You blinked. “It’s 2:32.”
“Yes,” Heeseung replied. “Which is not 2:30. Like we originally planned.”
Your jaw twitched. “Psycho,” you muttered, just loud enough for a small god to hear.
Heeseung raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
You straightened. “Sorry. I meant… yes, I know. Won’t happen again.”
Jake nudged your side and whispered, “Off to a strong start.”
—
The past five minutes were the longest of your life.
You stared at your feet. Then your thumbs. Then the floor again, like something might appear to save you. A trapdoor, maybe. Or the sweet embrace of the earth swallowing you whole.
Heeseung, meanwhile, had been staring at you. The entire time.
Not speaking. Not blinking. Just… watching.
Jake sat between you like a silent referee, sipping his coffee with the energy of someone watching a sitcom he’d accidentally created.
It was weird. Weird. Weird. Unbearably weird.
Finally, mercifully, Heeseung cleared his throat. The sound cut through the silence like a scalpel.
“I prepared a contract,” he said, voice calm. Businesslike. As if you weren’t about two minutes away from passing out in his office.
You blinked. “A contract? For something as—” you stopped, but it was too late—“as stupid as this?”
There was a pause.
Heeseung’s brow lifted. Just slightly. “Stupid?”
You froze. Your mouth opened. Nothing helpful came out.
“I didn’t mean—it’s not—I’M stupid,” you blurted, clapping your hands over your face. “That’s what I meant. I’m stupid. Please ignore everything I say for the next ten years.”
Jake choked on his drink.
You kept your face buried in your palms, wondering if anyone in the building would trade places with you. Janitor? Security guard? Plant in the corner?
Heeseung said nothing. For a long second.
Then, very dryly: “Good to know.”
You groaned.
Jake leaned over, voice low and unhelpfully cheerful. “You’re doing great.”
“Mr. Lee has written up a draft of the contract,” Jake said, slipping into full assistant mode, posture straight, tone clipped and professional.
You squinted at him. “Ew. Why are you talking like that?”
Jake glanced at you, then back at Heeseung with a sigh. “I’m working, you idiot,” he muttered under his breath.
“Oh. Right.” You scratched your neck, sheepish. “Forgot.”
Across the table, Heeseung bit his bottom lip—subtly, quickly—but it didn’t go unnoticed. His gaze lingered on you, and for the first time since you walked into the room, something shifted. His eyes didn’t look annoyed anymore.
Amused, maybe. Just slightly.
Dangerously close to smiling.
Jake cleared his throat, snapping back to task. “In the contract,” he continued, “you’ll find a breakdown of the terms—including Mr. Lee’s expectations, your responsibilities as his… companion—” he winced a little at the word “companion,” “—and a list of things you’re explicitly not allowed to do.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Like what? Wear Crocs in public?”
Jake didn’t miss a beat. “Actually, yes. Clause six.”
Your jaw dropped. “You’re joking.”
Heeseung finally spoke, smooth and unbothered. “I don’t joke about footwear.”
You stared at him.
He stared back.
Jake leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee again like he was watching live theatre.
“Okay… and what else?” you asked, trying—and failing—to sound chill.
Jake cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable. “Clause five…Physical…”
Heeseung looked up, expectant. “Yes?”
Jake made a face like he was already regretting his entire existence. “Do I… have to explain it?”
“Yes,” Heeseung said calmly, without even looking up from the contract. “It’s in the terms.”
You squinted at him. “Terms? What is this, fake dating or joining the military?”
Jake pressed on. “Physical contact. Mr. Lee has stated that there should be… none. Or at least not without clear, mutual agreement. No uninvited touching. No sudden… anything. Basically—don’t grope the CEO.”
You choked. “What?! I wasn’t—Why would—That wasn’t even on the table—”
Jake raised both hands. “I’m just reading the clause!”
Your face went red. Hot. Instantly.
You turned to Heeseung, eyes wide. “Not that I was planning to touch you or anything! Like, why would I—Not that you’re—okay, you are technically—”
You made a sound that wasn't even a word and slapped a hand over your own mouth.
Jake let out a slow, gleeful exhale. “This is so much better than I imagined.”
You groaned and sank lower in your seat. “I hate it here.”
Heeseung, annoyingly composed, glanced up at you. His expression unreadable… but his lips twitched. Barely.
You swore he was enjoying this.
You had been in the office for an hour.
One full hour.
Sixty minutes of your life you were never getting back, spent listening to Jake read through a contract like a local news anchor trying to make tax reform sound exciting.
“…Clause twelve: Should the second party—meaning you—be asked to attend any corporate function, you will refrain from referring to the first party—meaning Mr. Lee—as ‘my sugar daddy,’ even in jest.”
You blinked. “That… needed to be clarified?”
Jake didn’t look up. “You’d be surprised.”
You slowly slid further down in your seat, gripping your bubble tea like it was the last tether to your sanity. Your legs had gone numb. Your dignity had long since packed its bags and fled the room. And the worst part?
You still had to sign this thing.
All this—for a whopping two grand.
Across the table, Heeseung was unmoved. He hadn’t spoken in the last twenty minutes, just sipped his now-cold coffee and occasionally made a small note in the margins like he was preparing for a stockholders’ meeting instead of a fake relationship.
Jake flipped the page. “Clause thirteen…”
You groaned. “There are thirteen?”
Jake looked up. “We’re only halfway through.”
You dropped your head to the table.
This was your life now.
—
You had officially entered hour two of your Fake Dating Orientation.
Jake, your overly enthusiastic best friend and traitor to your dignity, was seated across from you like a talk show host who’d been waiting all day for the drama. He’d already gone through the entire contract. Twice. And now, unfortunately, it was time for the “chemistry test.”
“We’re going to do a little practice,” he announced, clasping his hands together. “Let’s see how well you two can sell this.”
You blinked. “Sell what, exactly?”
Jake beamed. “That you’re in love, of course.”
You visibly recoiled. “Oh god.”
Heeseung, seated beside you, didn’t say anything, but his entire body tensed like he’d just been told he had to perform on a game show. His fingers gripped the armrest, jaw tight.
You glanced at him.
He glanced at you.
Then you both looked in opposite directions so fast it would’ve given a chiropractor whiplash.
Jake leaned forward, utterly enjoying himself. “Okay. Pretend you’re on a casual third date. You’re into each other. You’re comfortable. There’s hand-holding. Eye contact. Smiles. Soft laughter. Possibly some light touching of the knee if you're really ambitious.”
You turned your head just enough to catch Heeseung already looking your way. Your eyes met. Instantly, you looked back at the floor.
Your cheeks were burning.
So were his ears.
Jake let out the loudest, most exaggerated sigh in human history. “You two haven’t even held hands yet.”
“I don’t—this is ridiculous. I don’t need acting lessons,” Heeseung muttered, running a hand through his hair in mild frustration, clearly more flustered than he was willing to admit.
“Clearly you do,” you mumbled under your breath.
He turned his head slowly. “Your face is flushed.”
You raised a brow. “Your ears are red.”
That shut him up.
For a second, the two of you just stared at each other. Not blinking. Not smiling. Like two cats waiting to see who flinched first.
Then you both sneered. Simultaneously.
Jake, watching from the corner of the room like a director overseeing a painfully awkward indie film, clapped once. “Amazing. So natural. This is going great. Really convincing chemistry.”
You and Heeseung didn’t look away from each other.
He raised an eyebrow like this was some kind of silent battle.
You narrowed your eyes in return, mouth twitching.
Jake clapped his hands together like a game show host about to announce the bonus round. “Alright. Let’s take it out there.”
You squinted at him. “Out where? Hell?”
Jake ignored the comment. “The office. The hallway. The real world. You two need a test run.”
Heeseung exhaled through his nose. “This is stupid.”
Jake raised a brow. “Should I just go ahead and reschedule that SunTech date, then? I’m sure she’d love a Thursday dinner.”
Heeseung shot him a look. “You’re forgetting you work for me.”
Jake smiled sweetly. “And you’re forgetting you need me to fix this mess.”
You, meanwhile, were sprawled on the couch like an exhausted Victorian heroine. “I’m bored.”
Jake turned, hands on hips. “You’re getting paid five hundred dollars per date to fake-date a CEO. Try to look alive.”
“Fine,” you groaned, hauling yourself up. “Let’s get this over with. What exactly do you want us to do? Gaze longingly into each other’s souls and whisper sweet nothings about fiscal responsibility?”
Heeseung rolled his eyes. “She’s really dramatic.”
“And you’re really uptight,” you shot back.
Jake clapped again, delighted. “Perfect. Just like a real couple.”
You both glared at him.
“Okay,” Jake continued, stepping into director mode. “Stage one: casual physical affection. We’re going for subtle intimacy. Nothing over-the-top. Just enough to make people go, ‘Hmm. They might be sleeping together.’”
Heeseung nearly choked on air.
You blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”
Jake gestured between you like a choreographer. “Heeseung, arm around her waist. And you, try not to look like you’re being taken hostage.”
Heeseung looked vaguely alarmed. “Do I have to?”
“Yes,” Jake said cheerfully. “Like you’ve touched another human being before. Preferably without looking like it’s a tax audit.”
There was a long pause.
Then, reluctantly, Heeseung stepped closer. His hand hovered awkwardly near your waist like it had never been introduced to the concept of touch.
You raised your eyebrows. “You’re not disarming a bomb.”
He cleared his throat. “You’re… shorter than I thought.”
“I’m wearing flats.”
“Still. Noted.”
Jake watched with glee as Heeseung finally, finally placed his hand on your waist—so lightly it was barely there. You tensed anyway. Because apparently your nervous system hadn’t signed off on this level of contact.
Jake turned to you. “And you, sweetheart, try not to smile like you’re being held at gunpoint.”
You bared your teeth in what could only generously be described as a grimace.
Heeseung glanced at you. “That’s your fake dating face?”
“It’s a work in progress.”
“You look like you’re about to offer me life insurance.”
You sighed. “Okay, let’s not pretend you’re Mr. Suave. You touched me like I’m made of porcelain and trauma.”
“I didn’t want to overstep.”
Jake, now leaning on the doorway like a proud parent at a talent show, was positively glowing. “This is amazing. I should be charging admission.”
You groaned. “Are we done yet?”
“Almost,” Jake said, eyes twinkling. “Now walk out there. Just a quick lap around the office. Arm around her waist. Maybe whisper something flirty if you’re feeling bold. Bonus points if someone drops their coffee.”
You turned to Heeseung, who looked like he’d rather be hit by a bus.
He glanced back at you.
You both exhaled.
And in perfect, miserable unison, you muttered, “Let’s just get this over with.”
—-
At the entrance of Heeseung’s office, Jake had—because of course he did—another brilliant idea.
“Let’s try a… scenario,” he’d said, eyes gleaming like he’d just discovered a new form of social torture. “Something romantic. Circumstantial. Like you just got caught in a moment. You know, one of those ‘oh, didn’t see you there, just happened to be holding each other and laughing softly’ kind of deals.”
You and Heeseung stared at him in silence.
Jake pointed to the glass wall just beside the door. “Over there. That’s your stage.”
So now, here you were—pressed awkwardly to the side of the office entrance, standing shoulder to shoulder with Lee Heeseung, the human embodiment of a luxury watch ad.
It was quiet. Too quiet.
“I’m gonna be completely honest,” you whispered, glancing up at him. “I forgot the plan.”
He looked down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “There shouldn’t be a plan.”
You frowned. “What?”
“This kind of thing,” he said, voice lower now, thoughtful, “should be natural. If we rehearse every little move, it’ll look fake.”
You didn’t respond right away.
Because honestly?
You had no idea how to make it look real.
You’d never been on a fake date before.
Actually, you’d never even been on a real date.
You’d spent your entire life chasing deadlines, side gigs, tuition payments, and discount ramen packs—love had never exactly made it into the schedule. Flirting was an optional elective you never had time to take. The closest you’d ever gotten to romantic tension was arguing with a vending machine.
And now here you were. Being gently stared at by a man with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and eyes like he was actually trying to understand you. You had half a mind to pull the fire alarm and flee.
Instead, you cleared your throat and said, “Right. Natural. Got it. So should I just… laugh at nothing? Flip my hair and pretend you said something charming?”
Heeseung smirked—actually smirked—and looked away. “You’re really bad at this.”
“I’m trying,” you hissed.
“I can tell.”
You gave him a sharp look. “Well, you’re not exactly oozing romance either, Mr. Emotionally Constipated.”
He huffed a small laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Do you always insult the people you fake date?”
“Just the ones who critique my performance before the show starts.”
He glanced back at you then, gaze lingering a bit longer this time. “You’re nervous.”
You stiffened. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re fidgeting.”
“No, I’m—”
“You keep tapping your fingers.”
You looked down. Your hand was, in fact, tapping against your thigh like it was performing a solo.
“…It’s called rhythm,” you muttered.
Heeseung just gave you a look.
And for a moment, just a moment, the tension shifted. Slightly softer. Slightly less unbearable.
Heeseung exhaled slowly and said, almost reluctantly, “Let’s just… be still for a second. Pretend we’re mid-conversation. Look relaxed.”
You nodded.
Neither of you moved.
From inside the office, Jake was pressed dramatically against the glass, holding his phone up like he was filming a nature documentary.
You both ignored him.
Mostly.
Then, quietly, Heeseung said, “You’ve never done this before, have you?”
You blinked. “What, pretend to be someone’s fake girlfriend?”
He didn’t say anything, just raised an eyebrow.
You hesitated. Then sighed. “I’ve never been any kind of girlfriend.”
Heeseung looked at you.
Not judgmental. Not surprised.
Just… quiet.
And for the first time, you wished this moment wasn’t fake. Just for a second.
Then Jake knocked on the glass like a proud zookeeper.
“THAT LOOKS AMAZING!” he yelled. “Now do a forehead touch!”
You turned back to Heeseung, mortified.
“Don’t,” you warned.
Heeseung nodded. “Absolutely not.”
But when he looked at you again, his ears were pink. And this time, yours were too.
—-
The next few days were absolutely unhinged.
When Jake told you Heeseung was meticulous, you thought he meant the occasional Google Calendar reminder. What he actually meant was: this man plans your fake relationship like it’s a Fortune 500 company launch.
From Monday to Friday, he had everything scheduled down to the minute.
Monday
"Coffee shop. 2 p.m. Look approachable."
Those were his exact words. Not cute. Not casual. Approachable. Like you were a storefront. You showed up early—naturally—and promptly spilled oat milk across the table trying to jab your straw into your cup. It exploded like a dairy crime scene.
Heeseung just stared at you. Then slid a napkin across the table, deadpan. You muttered, “You're welcome for the entertainment.”
You made fun of his black coffee. “You drink it like a bitter old man who’s lost faith in humanity.”
He looked at your lavender oat milk iced monstrosity. “And your drink choices are one of a six-year-old’s.”
You laughed.
He didn’t.
But his eyes softened. Just a little.
Tuesday
PR strategy, according to Jake: “Be seen. Look adorable. Pretend you like each other.”
You: showed up in his office.
Also you: immediately raided the pantry and stole three muffins.
Heeseung watched from his desk. Said nothing. Pretended to type very seriously while clearly watching you.
You plopped down on his couch, opened your laptop, and made very dramatic “working” noises.
At one point, your laptop screen dimmed. Before you could even react, he walked over silently and plugged in your charger.
You blinked. “Oh. Thanks.” He just shrugged and returned to his desk. But you caught it. The ghost of a smile as he sat down. Like he was trying not to like you. Failing, obviously.

Wednesday
You accompanied him to a fake business lunch.
There were women in designer outfits, expensive perfume clouding the air, and stiletto heels you were sure doubled as weapons. They looked at you like you’d crawled out from under the table.You sat there in an old blouse your mom gave you, heart thumping in your chest, suddenly hyper-aware of the ketchup stain you thought you removed.
You fidgeted. Overthought. Considered hiding under the table.
Then Heeseung leaned in, so close his breath grazed your ear. “You’re doing fine.” That was it. Just those words.
And you didn’t remember a single thing after that. You just nodded and smiled and let those three words replay in your head like a calming song.
Later, in the car, you kicked off your heels like they’d personally betrayed you. He raised an eyebrow.
“A little dramatic, no?”
“I’ve suffered,” you whined.
He handed you a water bottle and rolled the windows down.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
You rested your feet on the dash. Caught him looking at you at a red light.
He looked away too fast. Suspiciously fast.
Thursday
You brought takeout to his office, unannounced.
He looked up when you entered, blinking like you’d just done something absurd. “You brought food?”
“Yes. Humans eat. Shocking, I know.”
You sat on the floor beside his desk. He joined you. In a full suit. Cross-legged like a model student, tie undone, sleeves rolled to his forearms. You offered him a dumpling. He took it. No hesitation.
You grinned. “Isn’t it so good?”
He chewed. “Greasy.”
“But good?”
He hesitated. “If I say yes, will you stop bothering me?”
“No.”
“Then yes.”
You pretended not to notice the way his eyes lingered on your face longer than they needed to.
Friday
You were late. By five minutes.
He texted: “Late.”
You texted back: “Cry about it.”
He didn’t reply.
You arrived out of breath, annoyed, hair windswept and bag hanging off one shoulder like you’d run a marathon to get there.
He just handed you a drink. Your favorite.
Didn’t say anything. Didn’t look smug. Just passed it to you with one hand and opened the door to a rooftop garden with the other. Of course he had a rooftop garden. Because he was secretly the male lead of a tragic romantic comedy and you were starting to hate how well the role fit.
You sat on the bench beside him, knees brushing under the table. “You’re so serious all the time,” you said, teasing. “Do you even know how to smile?” He scoffed.
“Do you even know how to tell a joke?”
“Excuse me—I am hilarious.”
“You’re… something.”
—-
You lay in bed, burrito-wrapped in your blanket, one arm tucked under your head and the other dramatically thrown across your eyes like a Victorian ghost overcome by mild emotional instability.
Your ceiling stared back at you like it knew.
And unfortunately, your brain did that thing it loved to do: play a full highlight reel of the past week.
It had been five days.
Five fake dates.
You were getting paid five hundred dollars per day to pretend to like Lee Heeseung.
That was the deal. The entire deal. Nothing more, nothing less.
And honestly? Not a bad one. Amazing hourly rate. Low stakes. You just had to hang out with a man who looked like a luxury perfume ad and acted like a spreadsheet given life.
You could do that.
You had survived retail during Christmas and three years of sharing a bathroom with Jungwon.
And yet… somehow, you were the one spiraling.
Because Heeseung wasn’t awful.
Actually—he was kind of…
Nice.
Underneath the sleek suits and emotionally stunted persona, he was… oddly considerate. The kind of guy who noticed when your laptop was dying and plugged it in without comment. Who remembered your coffee order after one chaotic spill. Who didn’t flinch when you shoved dumplings into his mouth like a sleepover buddy instead of a business partner.
And okay, fine. He was also really easy on the eyes.
With his annoyingly sharp jawline and those lips that were probably illegal in several countries. And the way his tie loosened around his neck by Thursday, and how he laughed—actually laughed—at your dumb joke on Friday.
You groaned and rolled onto your stomach, burying your face into your pillow.
“Nope. No. Absolutely not.”
You barely knew him. You’d been fake-dating for a week. You didn’t even know what kind of music he liked. For all you knew, he could be a hardcore jazz saxophone guy. Or worse—he liked podcasts about finance.
This wasn’t real. You were faking it.
Professionally.
And still…
You wondered what it would feel like to hold his hand with no one watching. No “scene” to pull off. No Grandpa to impress. Just… you. And him. And the quiet weight of something unsaid.
You wondered—horrifyingly—what it would feel like to kiss him.
Just once.
Just to see.
You smacked your forehead. “I need therapy.”
The worst part? It wasn’t even entirely about Heeseung.
You were realizing, in a slow, sinking kind of way, that your romantic life was… embarrassing.
Jake, your best friend-slash-chaos goblin, didn’t count. Jungwon, your honorary brother, sure as hell didn’t count. And your last date had been someone who said “let’s split the bill” and then left you with it.
You hadn’t been around someone kissable in a long time.
And now you were being paid to fake-date someone who might actually ruin your life if you let him.
You groaned into your mattress again.
At this rate, you were going to fall for your fake boyfriend before your first paycheck cleared.
—
Heeseung was not sleeping.
It was after midnight. The city outside was quiet. His entire house was dark.
And all he could think about… was you.
Which made no sense.
You had shown up in his life like a whirlwind. Unpredictable. Loud. Crumb-covered. You drank rainbow-colored lattes and wiped your mouth on your sleeve and called his contract “stupid” without blinking.
But you’d also fed him dumplings on the office floor—the office floor—which he’d never sat on in his life. But then you’d whined, kicked your feet like a brat, and said, “Just join me. Or are you too much of a rich bitch to?”
And that was all it took for Lee Heeseung—the picture of corporate perfection—to sit beside you, cross-legged, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You’d teased him until he smiled without realizing. You’d let your legs rest on the dashboard and talked about nothing like it mattered. And you hadn’t cared who he was. Not the CEO. Not the heir. Just… Heeseung.
He exhaled, staring at the ceiling with all the enthusiasm of a man confronting his own emotional shortcomings.
Was he really catching feelings after five “fake” dates?
Apparently, yes.
Which was alarming.
He had spent his entire adult life navigating business galas and high-end blind dates with elegant, polished women. The kind who wore heels taller than his emotional range. He knew how to charm. How to play the part.
And yet none of them had ever stuck.
None of them made his hands twitch when they leaned in.
None of them made him smile like an idiot when they were five minutes late.
But you?
You with your loud opinions and easy laughter and tendency to steal muffins like they were currency?
You were dangerous.
And you were fake.
A fake girlfriend, in a fake arrangement, for a fake relationship.
And yet here he was—imagining what your hand might feel like in his. What your laugh might sound like in his apartment, in the morning, when you were still sleepy.
Heeseung groaned and dragged a hand down his face.
This wasn’t good.
He was supposed to be managing this. Keeping things professional. Keeping his head clear.
Instead, he was lying awake at 1:34 a.m., thinking about your smile and the way your voice got all soft when you called him out for being too serious.
God help him.
He was catching feelings.
And he was completely, utterly screwed.
part 2