| Shoto |

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

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

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

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

Oh crap!

He was looking. Another coincidence?

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

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

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

Normal. This was normal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” It sounded almost like a laugh.

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

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

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

Maybe you were dead?

Dehydration? It was a possibility.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re mine.”

 “Wh—” you choked when his grip tightened.

“I own you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you look around again. maybe he is showering.

that would explain the sound of running water coming from somewhere deeper inside the apartment.

you lean back against the wall, deciding to be patient until jungwon finishes his sudden shower routine.

although only after a couple of minutes, curiosity and boredom gets the better of you.

prying into someone else’s belongings is not nice as they say, so you thank god that jungwon and you are attached by the hip. and naturally that gives you a little access to his apartment.

standing up, you look around his room.

since when did jungwon own this many black hoodies? you frown at a pile folded neatly on the chair.

and since when did he starts reading philosophy? you eye a couple of books sitting idly on the bookshelf, you wonder if he’s even okay.

you’re about to sit down again when you notice a rather unfamiliar photo frame from the corner of your eyes. you walk up to it beside the chair and pick it up to inspect.

and it has… heeseung? another frame, heeseung with his friends. and another, heeseung with a cat.

your heart drops to your stomach when you turn around and notice the certificate hanging on the wall has a name— lee heeseung.

“fuck,” you mutter under your breath when you realise you accidentally broke into your upstairs neighbour's apartment instead. you scramble to grab your bag before heeseung can notice anything.

that is when you hear a loud thud from the shower from inside the apartment.

inside the shower, heeseung feels he could pass away at any given time.

oh lord, he almost cries, why do you give your weakest soldier the hardest battles.

his brain, in all its brilliance, immediately pictured a masked burglar carrying his floor bed away.

“no,” he gasps, “shit, my bed!”

he grabs the nearest towel, wrapped it around his waist with absolutely zero confidence, then looked around for something to defend himself with.

of course, a bathroom plunger.

“alright lee heeseung,” he says looking at the plunger, “think how proud mr papa would be!”

and then, for reasons that can never make sense even to himself, he breaks into a full sprint.

still soaking wet. hair covered in shampoo bubbles.

“reveal yourself!” he shouts in the top of lungs, startling you enough to drop your bag on his floor.

and there he is, lee heeseung. dripping in soapy water from head to toe, shampoo bubbles forgotten in his hair.

agaisnt your will, your eyes drop down from his face to his abdomen, to his soaking abs which— okay no, no! this is insane, this is wrong. you mentally shake it off and take your sight off his abs, only to wonder even further down to notice the white towel hanging from his frame with sheer faith alone.

“y/n?” heeseung says with much surprise.

“hey,” you reply, followed by an awkward giggle.

heeseung lets his guard down just a little, “what- what are you doing here?”

“i was uh- actually going to jungwons’”, you shrug, “i got lost right after."

“so you’re not robbing me?” is he serious right now?

“no!” you take a step back, “does it look like I’m here to rob you?”

“then why are you not looking at me right now?” heeseung sounds rather sad that your eyes are not one him, but towards the ceiling.

because honestly, you dont know how to react to a half naked lee heeseung, who looks very handsome for you to admit.

“im trying to be respectful,” you clear your throat.

“oh,” heeseung sighs, “then, are you here to finally lend me the pillow?”

you sigh even heavier than him, finally looking at his face, “are you serious? i just told you i was going to jungwons!”

“oh, yeah right,” heeseung tries to take a step towards you next, but something unlikely happens.

the poor and sad towel wrapped around him slips. just a little. but enough to make you both freeze at your places.

“what—!”, you shriek, eyes darting towards the ceiling again.

“don’t look!”, heeseung fumbles in his steps, holding his towel upright, with both his hands.

“im not looking!”

“please don’t look.”

“i said i’m not looking!”

and just when things could get better, heeseung slips on a puddle of water gathered from his own body, and hurls forward.

in a second, you find yourself caged between a shirtless and soaking heeseung’s arms, his face hovering right above you, so close that your can make out the way his eyelashes are.

“so- sorry,” he whispers, you feel yourself getting hotter by the moment, “hi?”

only god knows how fast you ran out of his apartment today.