#heesung

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you didn’t go to school for two weeks after it happened.

at first, you told your parents you were just tired. that maybe you were coming down with something. that your body ached. and it was true, in a way—your body did ache, but not from any illness they’d understand. the ache sat deep in your chest, in your lungs, in the pit of your stomach. it made it hard to breathe, hard to eat, hard to sleep without waking up in tears.

you cried until your throat burned. until your pillow was soaked. until your fingers curled into your sheets in the middle of the night, wishing you could claw him out of your memory. you kept replaying it over and over again—how he held you, how he kissed your forehead, how gently he moved inside you, how he fed you soup and looked at you like you were made of glass. and then how he broke you in the same room he touched you like you mattered.

you didn’t understand.

you couldn’t understand.

someone who loved with actions—who tied your shoelaces when they came undone, who waited at the gate after school, who sat in silence with you in the library just to be near you—how could that all be a lie? how could someone fake the way his thumb brushed over your hand while you solved equations, or the way he held you like the world outside your bedroom didn’t exist?

you told yourself there had to be something real in it. maybe not all of it. but something. he couldn't have done all that just for a bet… right?

but while you cried yourself sick, the others were laughing.

heesung and his friends—jay, sunghoon, the others who had always hovered around like shadows—were joking about it in the cafeteria. about how you’d fallen hard. about how easy it had been. jay even said he didn’t think you’d go through with it. sunghoon just laughed and said, “i guess love makes girls blind.”

and heesung?

he laughed too.

smirked and said, “i told you. i knew she’d give in. i know her type.”

and maybe something in him tightened when he said it. maybe something in his chest flickered, sharp and bitter. but no one noticed—not even him. because in front of his friends, his pride had to survive. so he played along. like you had meant nothing. like none of it had mattered.

and yet… when you came back, everything changed.

you walked into school two weeks later with your head held a little higher. your eyes were tired, but they didn’t tremble anymore. your uniform was the same, your hair was the same, but there was something different about the way you carried yourself. you smiled at your teacher when she welcomed you back. you answered roll call like nothing was wrong. when people whispered in the halls, you didn’t flinch.

you told everyone your parents had taken you out of town to visit your grandmother. “we didn’t plan it,” you said easily. “they just made the decision last minute. no signal where we were.”

you sat in class like normal. you took notes. you even hummed quietly during break.

and people noticed.

not in the cliché, dramatic way. not like you suddenly became the “hot girl.” it was quieter than that. it was in the way people looked twice when you walked by. the way they hesitated before talking about you. the way they no longer saw you as invisible, but as something they couldn’t quite define.

and heesung noticed too.

he saw the way your posture had changed. the way you didn’t glance around nervously anymore. the way you answered questions with confidence, how you laughed with classmates you never used to talk to. something about your presence was louder now, even if your voice wasn’t.

and for the first time since he left your house, he started remembering.

he remembered how your hands shook when you first held his. how your eyes lit up when he brought you strawberries one afternoon because you mentioned liking them in passing. how he watched you sleep once, and something inside him clenched in a way he didn’t understand back then.

he told himself it was all an act. that he was just playing the part. that every kind gesture, every glance, every soft breath against your skin was planned.

but not all of it was.

some things just... happened. some moments weren’t rehearsed. and now, watching you from across the room, something sharp curled beneath his ribs.

regret.

and that feeling only deepened when, one afternoon, you were walking past the lockers and someone called your name.

“y/n!”

you turned, blinking, and found a boy you didn’t recognize very well—jake, from class 1-b. tall, warm smile, honey-brown hair. he jogged over with a little out-of-breath laugh.

“you dropped this earlier in the hallway,” he said, holding out your pen.

you blinked at it, surprised. “oh… thank you. i didn’t even notice.”

“yeah,” he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “figured you’d want it back. it’s cute. the little star charm’s cool.”

you laughed, a small, real sound. “it was a gift. from myself.”

he laughed with you. “solid choice.”

he walked with you to class that day. not flirtatious. just easy. light.

and heesung saw it all from the other end of the hall—your laugh, your comfort, the way jake looked at you like you were bright and new.

and something in his stomach twisted.

for the first time, he wasn’t part of your world.

he had no place there anymore.

and maybe—just maybe—that was the part that hurt the most.

heesung didn’t notice it all at once.

at first, it was just a quiet discomfort. something small. like the subtle ache of a bruise you forgot was there until someone brushed against it. a flicker in his chest that he ignored. a hollow feeling he pushed down with laughter and noise.

he told himself he didn’t care. that he had won. that it was just a bet and he had gotten what he wanted. his friends kept saying it, too—how easy it was, how good the payoff had been, how funny it was that you actually cried.

but every time they said your name like it was a joke, something in him tensed.

still, he smiled.

still, he laughed.

because that’s what he was supposed to do.

until you came back.

you walked into school like someone who had been rebuilt. not louder, not flashier, not dressed any different—but something in you had changed. you didn’t slouch anymore. you didn’t stare at the floor when people passed. your steps were quieter, but more certain. like you didn’t need to be noticed to be seen.

and worse—you didn’t look at him.

not once.

not even when your eyes passed over his. you looked right through him. like he wasn’t there. like the boy you gave yourself to had died and become someone you didn’t recognize anymore. it was the first time he realized you could move on. that maybe he hadn’t broken you the way he thought he did.

and that’s when it started.

the ache.

every day after that, it grew heavier. he tried to ignore it—he flirted with other girls in the hallway, he laughed louder than necessary, he stayed out late. but none of it filled the space you left behind. the silence of your absence followed him everywhere, curling like smoke around his collarbones, pressing against his lungs.

and then came jake.

at first, he didn’t even know the guy’s name. just some quiet boy from a different class—friendly, golden-haired, always polite to teachers. but suddenly, he was sitting beside you during lunch. carrying your books when your arms were full. walking with you to the gate after school. he never touched you too much, never made it look like anything romantic, but it didn’t matter.

heesung saw the way you smiled around him.

not the way you used to smile at heesung—shy and tentative—but brighter. lighter. like you were no longer afraid of breaking.

and worst of all, jake did things heesung used to do.

he tucked your hair behind your ear when the wind blew too hard. he waited for you outside the library, leaning against the wall with both hands in his pockets like it was the most natural thing in the world. he passed you notes in class—not cheesy ones, but simple things like “don’t forget to eat lunch today” or “i hope your morning was kind.”

and every time heesung saw one of those moments unfold, his chest tightened.

because he remembered.

he remembered how you used to look at him like that. how you used to reach for his hand without thinking. how you once whispered “thank you for choosing me” after he kissed your forehead in your room.

he told himself it was all fake. that he had played a role, nothing more.

but some of it hadn’t been fake.

some of it had been instinct.

some of it had been real.

and now it was gone.

sometimes, at night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking of the way your voice trembled when you said you were happy your first time had been with him. the way you clung to the blanket when he stood to leave. the way you ran after him, bare feet against the floor, tears already falling—and he didn’t turn around.

he should have turned around.

now you were healing without him.

and he… he was unraveling.

that's why he didn’t expect to see you again that day.

it was just a normal afternoon—at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. the courtyard was half-empty, students trickling out after class in lazy, aimless waves. heesung had been walking with jay and sunghoon, shoulders slouched, backpack hanging loosely from one strap, half-listening to some story jay was telling that didn’t really matter.

he wasn’t paying attention. not until he heard your laugh.

soft. low. the kind of laugh that used to only come out when you were comfortable, when you forgot to be afraid. he froze instinctively—eyes lifting before his mind could stop him.

there you were.

sitting on the edge of a planter box under the tree near the gate, legs crossed at the ankle, your head tilted as you listened to jake say something beside you. he was holding a bottle of water, a backpack slung over one shoulder. he handed it to you, and you took it with a small smile, your fingers brushing his for just a second.

heesung couldn’t hear what you were saying. but you were smiling. you looked healthy. rested. you looked like you hadn’t spent weeks crying over him in the dark. you looked like you’d finally let go of the hand that once shattered you.

and you didn’t look his way—not once.

that was the part that felt the heaviest.

“damn,” jay muttered beside him, loud enough for the others to hear. “she moves on fast.”

sunghoon snorted. “wonder if she cried in jake’s arms, too.”

they laughed. a few other boys chuckled with them. someone else said, “what was her name again? the one you took home? y/n, right?”

heesung didn’t say anything. he kept walking, but his pace slowed.

“maybe she’s just collecting boyfriends now,” jay added with a grin. “first heesung, now jake. who’s next?”

“bet jake has no idea she was begging heesung to stay, crying like a kicked puppy.” sunghoon whistled. “guess jake likes secondhand toys.”

the laughter grew louder. more shameless. more cruel.

heesung stopped walking.

he didn’t say a word. he didn’t laugh. he just stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight it ached. his fingers curled tighter around the strap of his backpack, knuckles white.

they were still talking about you like that. like you were nothing more than a punchline. like you hadn’t mattered. like you hadn’t loved him.

and he said nothing.

because saying something would mean stepping out of the mask he’d been wearing this whole time. it would mean breaking the image. it would mean admitting that you weren’t just another girl. that what he did wasn’t just a joke. it would mean facing everything he’d been trying to ignore since the moment he left your house and walked away from the girl who had given him everything.

he told himself it was better this way. that it was cleaner if he stayed silent.

but his silence was starting to rot him from the inside out.

you were still sitting there, unaware. jake stood up, pointing at something in his phone, and you leaned slightly to look. he held the screen closer, and your knees brushed lightly—casual, natural, the kind of touch heesung remembered vividly.

and for a second—just a second—he wished he could go back.

not to change what happened, not to undo it, but to tell you that it hadn’t all been a lie. that not everything had been a game. because when you smiled at him, something inside him had moved. and when you cried, something inside him hadbroken. he just hadn’t known what to do with that feeling. so he buried it. mocked it. pretended it never happened.

and now it was too late.

jay slapped a hand on his shoulder. “what, you mad he’s got her now?”

he didn’t respond.

just shook him off gently, like the touch annoyed him.

because yeah. maybe he was mad.

but not at you. not at jake.

he was mad at himself—for letting go of the only person who ever looked at him like he wasn’t just a name behind a pretty face. for breaking something he didn’t know how to fix. for being too much of a coward to say, “stop,” when they started laughing.

and for still staring at you like you were his, when he gave you every reason to walk away.

he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

the room was quiet except for the hum of his fan and the soft ticking of the clock on his desk. it was late—past midnight, maybe closer to two—but sleep didn’t come easily anymore. not the kind that left you rested. not the kind that made mornings worth waking up for.

his body was still. but his mind wouldn’t shut up.

he hated how loud your memory was in silence.

he closed his eyes and it came rushing back. the way your fingers curled in his shirt when you kissed him the first time. how you trembled under his touch but still whispered “i want this with you.” how you winced when he entered you, how your nails dug into his back as you cried out, how you smiled, teary and flushed, afterward, whispering “i’m happy it was you.”

he hadn’t meant to remember all of it—but it wouldn’t leave him alone.

the way you used to wait by his locker just to walk home together. the way you brought him tangerines because he said he liked them once. the way you blushed whenever he tucked your hair behind your ear. how you laughed when he teased you softly. how your voice always dropped when you said his name like it meant something more.

he thought he’d buried all of that. he thought forgetting you would be easy.

but nothing about you was forgettable.

he sat up in bed, breathing heavy now, like the air around him had thickened. there was a tension in his chest—an ache that didn’t go away when he rubbed his hands over his face. it stayed there, lodged in his ribs, aching like guilt, like grief, like a question he’d never asked himself until now:

did i love her?

and the silence answered back:

yes.

yes, he did. maybe not from the start. maybe not all at once. but somewhere along the line—between the library books and your gentle voice and the way you looked at him like he was someone worth loving—he had fallen for you.

and now you were gone.

really gone.

not just physically, but emotionally. spiritually. you no longer belonged to his world. you no longer turned at the sound of his name. he could pass you in the hallway and it would be like walking past a ghost.

he hesitated, looking at his phone on the nightstand.

his heart beat faster.

his hand trembled slightly as he reached for it, thumb hovering over your contact. it was still there. he never deleted it. he never even changed your name. just y/n—plain, simple, the way you saved yourself in his phone that first night.

he stared at it for too long.

what do i say?

what could i say?

sorry? i miss you? i didn’t mean it? i was wrong?

they all felt hollow. they all felt too late. but he pressed the call button anyway, like maybe—maybe—you’d still want to hear his voice.

it rang once.

then the screen went black. call declined.

he froze.

his stomach dropped.

he tried again. and this time—

“this number is not available.”

his throat tightened. he tried to breathe through it, but his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

you had blocked him.

not muted. not ignored. not paused.

blocked. completely. entirely. with finality.

and just like that, it hit him like a blow to the ribs.

she doesn’t want to hear from me. she’s done.

what did he expect?

that you’d pick up in the middle of the night, voice soft and sleepy, still waiting for him? that you’d cry again, say his name, beg for answers? that you’d run into his arms like nothing had happened?

how fucking foolish.

his fingers tightened around the phone, then let it drop beside him with a dull thud.

you weren’t waiting. you weren’t hoping. you weren’t his anymore.

you had walked away. healed. outgrown him.

and he—he had stayed the same. still pretending. still running. still hiding behind silence and laughter and people who didn’t care if he burned.

he laid back down, arm over his eyes, chest hollow.

he wouldn’t call again.

he wouldn’t message.

he wouldn't show up pretending to be brave.

not because he respected your decision—but because he was a coward.

and because facing your rejection now would destroy what little was left of him.

so he let the silence stay.

just like you had.

days had turned into weeks, though heesung wasn’t sure when the shift had occurred. time had begun to bleed together, slow and indistinct, like the blur of water slipping down a window during a storm. everything felt quieter than before, but not in the peaceful way—no, it was the kind of silence that made his skin itch, that wrapped around his lungs and refused to let go, like grief that hadn’t quite finished forming. he still walked the same halls, still sat in the same classrooms, still laughed at the same tired jokes, but the world around him felt distorted, as if nothing was quite where it used to be. and it wasn’t. not really. because you weren’t there anymore—not in the way that counted.

you didn’t look at him anymore. didn’t flinch when you passed each other. you didn’t hesitate, or soften, or seem remotely affected by the empty space he left behind. and maybe that was what finally started to eat at him—not your absence, but your indifference. it was easier when he thought you hated him. hate meant fire. hate meant he still lived somewhere inside you. but now... now you looked through him like he had become translucent, like he no longer held a single thread to your world. and god, it hurt more than he could stand.

he told himself he didn’t care. repeated it like a prayer each night when he stared at the ceiling in his dark room, one arm slung over his eyes to block out everything except his thoughts. but the truth clawed at him like something alive. he remembered everything—your hands in his, the soft pull of your smile, the way your head fit perfectly on his shoulder, how your voice cracked when you said “i’m glad it was you.” he had tried to forget, but it came back in waves, sharp and suffocating. he remembered how you kissed him like he mattered, how you trembled but still trusted him, how your eyes fluttered open afterward, full of something so painfully pure it nearly undid him.

he couldn’t forget. not anymore.

the ache that came with those memories had become unbearable—dense in his chest, heavy in his throat. and when he walked into the chemistry lab that afternoon, all he wanted was to disappear for a little while, to escape the noise of the halls and the suffocating press of guilt that followed him like a shadow. he didn’t expect to see you there.

you were standing near the lockers, facing away from him, your body half-tucked behind the tall cabinet where the beakers and tongs were kept. you moved carefully, methodically, as if each motion served a purpose. your back was straight, your hair pulled out of the way, the sleeves of your uniform rolled just slightly. you looked so calm, so self-contained. you looked nothing like the girl he remembered sobbing under a blanket while he walked away.

he froze. completely.

for a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. he felt like the air had thickened, like he had walked into a memory and it had decided to come alive just to punish him. his gaze locked on you, and as if some invisible string snapped taut between you, you turned.

your eyes met.

and everything around him went still.

his heartbeat stuttered. there was a pressure behind his eyes, behind his ribs, like something raw had clawed its way out of him. and for the briefest second, he thought maybe—maybe—there was something still left. maybe you’d say something, anything.

but then you blinked, cold and calm, and turned away again without a word.

you folded your lab coat neatly, placed it on the stool beside you, and grabbed your bag. you were already halfway to the door when his body reacted before his mind could.

“wait—”

his voice cracked through the silence, rough and desperate.

you paused, fingers on the sliding door, shoulders tense.

“please. y/n… wait.”

he moved toward you, slowly, like every step cost him something. and just before you could open the door, he reached out, fingers brushing your wrist.

you flinched.

your reaction was immediate, electric—your body snapped away like he had burned you. your eyes turned to his, not wide with surprise or hurt, but narrowed with fury and something else—disgust. your voice, when it came, was sharp and low and full of ice.

“don’t touch me.”

he stepped back instinctively, guilt spreading across his face like poison. he lifted his hands slightly, palms open as if to show he meant no harm. but it didn’t matter. it was already too late.

“i just… i need to talk to you,” he said, voice softer now, almost breaking. “please. i know i don’t deserve it. but just let me—”

“you used me.” your voice cut through the room like a blade, and he fell silent instantly. “now you want me to believe you care?” you shook your head, bitter disbelief dripping from every word. “don’t insult me. save your guilt for someone who asked for it.”

he took a shallow breath, but your words didn’t stop.

“you didn’t defend me when they laughed at me.” your tone trembled now—not with weakness, but with pain long held. “you laughed with them.” you stepped forward, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “so don’t act like you regret it now.”

his lips parted, his throat worked, but nothing came. not until you finally said the last thing he’d been terrified to hear.

“you never loved me, heesung.” your voice cracked, but you didn’t look away. “you loved the way i looked at you.”

that broke him.

he looked down, shoulders heavy, breath unsteady. he wanted to deny it, to explain, to beg—but the truth swelled inside him like a wound finally bursting.

“i did,” he said softly, eyes flicking back to you, desperate. “i did love you. i swear i didn’t know it until after, but—” he choked, biting down the panic that rose in his chest. “yes, it started as a joke. a fucking stupid bet. but it stopped being one the moment you smiled at me like i meant something. when you held my hand, when you kissed me back, when you… when we were in your room, and i held you—”

you slapped him.

hard.

his head jerked slightly to the side, the sting spreading across his cheek like fire.

you were shaking now, but your voice was steady.

“don’t you dare bring that night up.”

your eyes were red, but not from weakness. from rage. from betrayal. from the kind of heartbreak that people don’t walk away from whole.

“you planned it. all of it. you got close to me just to win. you let me fall. you let me love you knowing the whole time you were going to rip me apart. and you did.” your voice rose, thick with tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. “i hate you, heesung. i hate you. leave me alone.”

he opened his mouth, but you were already walking away, grabbing your coat and bag, shoving past him like he wasn’t even there. and this time, he didn’t follow. he didn’t try to stop you. he just stood there, one hand on his cheek, chest collapsing in on itself.

he watched you disappear through the door.

and for the first time, he didn’t just feel regret. he felt loss. real, permanent, irreparable loss.

and he knew.

you would never look at him again.

not even with hate.

because even that… required caring.

It had been a long day to say the least, the stress from your job had embedded itself into your bones by the time you had gotten home.  work had dragged on for what had seemed like hours longer than it should have, your boss constantly giving you tasks to do as if the office wasn't full of other employees.

finally in the comfort of your own home, you kick off your heels and relax. "i'm home baby," your voice barely makes it to the kitchen but you know your boyfriend would of seen you walk in on the security cameras.

you sigh, shrugging off your outside clothes and heading up to your shared bedroom to get changed. the house is rather,, quiet, especially since heesung was the type to play his reels on full volume when home alone.

you make your way to the bedroom, seeing the door to the ensuite slightly ajar. you cock your head in confusion before deciding to check it out.

the bath is freshly drawn, bubbles floating on the surface with the soft scent of orange trailing out of the water and into the air. heesung's sat on the edge of the tub, sleeves rolled up and his tie loose around his neck.

"hey baby girl," his voice is rough, eyes barely open from how exhausted he was but he knew you were stressed. "bathe with me darling," he closes the gap between you in one step, his hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

"missed you today handsome," your hands slide up his broad chest to his tie, gently undoing it and letting it drop to the floor. a sleepy smile spreads across his face, his eyes full of genuine love for you.

"missed you too beautiful," heesung gently slides your shirt off your shoulders, pushing your skirt down and helping you slide out of it. your underwear is quick to come off along with the rest of heesung's clothes.

you step into the hot water, sighing as it soothes all the tension in your body. heesung's quick to join you, long arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

your eyes flutter shut, the warmth of your boyfriend and the water has you floating on the brink of sleep and awake. heesung's plump lips kiss at your neck, suckling gently when he reaches the soft spot between your shoulders and neck.

"so beautiful baby, can't believe you're mine," he groans, large hands reaching up to cup your breasts. his calloused thumbs rub over your nipples until they harden, pinching gently at the hard nubs.

you whimper, head tilting to the side so he could get better access to your neck. you shuffled to the side, mouth finding heesung's in a desperate messy kiss.

spit coats both of your lips, running down your chin as your gripped at his shoulders. heesung groans, pushing his semi hard cock into your back as you made out.

"you're stunning baby, wanna make you feel good baby. let me make you feel good please," heesung continues to grope at your breasts and kissing all over neck and chest.

"mhm," you hum into his neck, moving in the bathtub so you were straddling heesung's thighs with his cock rubbing against your slit. you mewl, clit brushing against his cock as you grinded down him.

"i love you," you mumble into his ear, lifting your hips so you could sink down onto his thick cock. you both moan in sync, lips crashing together to feel closer to each other.

"fuck baby, so tight n warm, feel like the bath water, " heesung grunts into your ear, hips bucking up into you. you tilt your head back, hands planting themselves on his chest to give yourself enough leverage to start bouncing.

the water ripples around you, the lewd sound of wet skin smacking against skin fills the roam. "perfect tits," heesung wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking hard.

you mewl, back arching so you could press your chest into his mouth. heesung grips your hips tighter, holding you still as he thrusts up into you. "gonna cum in this tight fuckin cunt"

heesung's eyes screw shut, the water hitting your clit with each one of his thrusts. you dig your nails into his shoulders, your orgasm ripping through your body at the same time heesung started to pump you full of seed.

"love you baby, gonna give you a baby, make you look so pretty n round with my baby." heesung babbles, hips stilling deep inside of you as you both come down from your high.

"clean me up now, i'm tired," you yawn, eyes fluttering shut as you collapse against heesung's chest.

𝓟 airing : singer, baby daddy!jw x reader

𝓦 here : jungwon is your absent baby father who disappears for 7 months on tour after a heated argument about the very same thing. He was never ever around. 7 months. 215 days. 2 texts. 1 call then—radio silence.You had to watch as millions of women fangirl over him, pose shamelessly with him. He even went as far as to cater to their delusions, knowing he had a whole child at home. He left you broken, hurt and embarrassed. But when he shows up unannounced to your son's birthday party, heart heavy with regret you consider giving him 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒.

ℛead here.

𝓟 airing : coworker!heeseung x teacher reader

𝓦 here : Heeseung is your favorite co-worker, though you'd never admit it. Your relationship was characterized by fleeting touches, extra coffee brewed for one another which you both swore was unintentional, printing each other's lesson plans and sharing lunches over comfortable silence. You liked what you had even though a painfully obvious budding chemistry was strangling you every time the two of ypu interacted. But when you have a terrible encounter with a parent which made you crack, Heeseung feels the need to show you that he's ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢—in more ways than one.

ℛead here.

𝓟 airing : ceo!Jay x secretary reader

𝓦 here : You've been Jay's loyal secretary three years, and loyal girlfriend for six. As much as you loved him you were tired. Tired of turning guys down with no tangible reason, tired of having to clench your teeth and bite your lip whenever any female elite client of his shamelessly flirted with him, tired of being a secret. You bring it up to Jay, who listens—as he always does. But the second your bring up breaking up, he reminds you that ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

ℛead here.

𝓟 airing : old classmate, real estate agent!jake x reader

𝓦 here: You're used to getting everything handed to you on a silver platter—gold even, if you felt like. It didn't take you any more than 10 minutes to establish your status anywhere you went—and that was an absolute goddess who was to be worshipped. Exaggerated, maybe but anyone who'd spent said 10 minutes with you would think this was an understatement. Then there was Jake Sim. AP Chemistry, Room B13, row 3, four seats from the left. Or in other words your victim. He was simply another disregarded step stone for you. But when he turns out to be your real estate agent, threatening to let someone else buy your dream house out of spite, you realise for once you have to 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑡.

ℛead here.

𝓟 airing : sister's fiancé!Sunghoon x reader

𝓦 here : Kim Mina the most—sorry this synopsis should be about Kim Y/n. Even in your own fic you couldn't catch a break. You grew up having to deal with her being simply superior. From fighting to be seen in corny pre-school photos, to fighting to be seen in graduation photos—your graduation photos. You tried to convince yourself the universe had just deemed you the unlucky one and even though there was some truth to that—it wasn't entirely Mina's fault. Your tolerance slowly rot into deep seethed resentment for her and her unawareness of her effect. That's why the very moment you sensed her fiancé's attraction towards you, you snatched the opportunity to 𝑑𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟.

ℛead here.

𝓟 airing : arranged husband!sunoo x reader

𝓦 here : You spent all your life fantasizing about marriage more than what was healthy for you to do. Picturing your family and dream husband from as young as 5 years old, making doodles of family pictures and as old as 19, making wedding mood boards. You read books about understanding men, watched every episode of Say Yes to the Dress, and told yourself you'd marry once and marry right. What you failed to realise was that you hadn't considered the real life you lived. Anyone in your palce would've expected it but you purposefully ignored your impending fate, in hopes it would just disappear. Now you were unhappily married to Kim Sunoo, son of one of your dad's best business partners, who only it only dawned on after finding out your past that in order not to completely take all colour out of you life, would have to be a better lover and 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 .

ℛead here.

You were sleeping next to your other friend, Heeseung, and his best friend, Jake, was beside him. You three said a quiet goodnight before rolling over on your side and preparing to sleep for the night.

But apparently your body and other plans as it was now about half hour later and all you could do was toss and turn everyone else had gone to sleep except you which felt unfair cause you were so tired earlier but now you couldn’t sleep at all you huffed out a breath sighing to yourself looking around but of course you couldn’t see it was pitch black.

You rolled over on your other side, and apparently, you weren’t the only one still awake, and heeseung rolled right into you. “Oh, sorry,” he mutters, and you flinch at the proximity; you could feel the heat of his breath fanning your cheek.

“It’s okay,” you whisper back, and you laid there as he spoke to you again.

“Can’t sleep either?” He says in a hushed whisper, and you nod, but he was even closer than you imagined, and your forehead lightly bumped his head. He laughs softly, prompting you to as well.

The laughter soon faded, and you swear you felt him lean in just a bit, his nose now brushing against your cheek. You stayed frozen in your spot, not making any moves to pull back.

His hand slowly trailed up to your waist, his fingers just ghosting lightly over your side, and your breath stuttered. He scooted in closer to you, his body pressed against yours, so warm and close you could feel his heart beat.

He pulled you into him, leaving no space in between your bodies, and he started nosing against your cheek and down your jaw, testing the waters until he found your lips and traced over them with his.

You could hear him gulp and let out a shaky sigh as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time his lips parting to kiss your top lip as you gasped into his mouth, cupping his jaw lightly and pressing him closer into you.

He made a quiet sound of pleasure against your lips, his hand pressing firmer against your waist, pulling you in as close as he could get you, and you felt his bulge, hot, rutting against your core.

You whimper lightly into his mouth, your hips rolling on instinct, with his gaining some friction.

He pulled away breathless, his heart beating ten times faster than when you first kissed.

He let out a shaky breath, going in for another kiss that you responded eagerly to, and lightly tugged on his hair.

Your lower bodies met in a slow, desperate grind, the friction making your bodies pulse and throb with need.

He was waiting for you to tell him that you’re friends and this shouldn’t be happening, but the words never left your lips, and they weren’t about to leave his either, especially when he was already this far gone he doesn’t know how far you’d be willing to take this but he was gonna stop until it got to that point.

You felt just the smallest bit of hesitation in his lips when they worked against yours, but it quickly faded as the kiss got messier and deeper, and you’re glad he didn’t hesitate cause you didn’t want this to end~

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