#highway racer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nicksolemnlyswears · 9 months

Note

DUDDDDE!!

I am in LOVE with your writing. I have been craving some good Han Lue works and you're filling the hole!

Everywhere is extremely lacking in quality Han Lue content bro 😭😭

But any whosies.

I was wondering if it were at all possible to request a Han work from you (from what I've seen you still have requests open so if you don't im sorry)

Specifically something about a reader who's fucking amazing at driving, and has been crushing on Han for a while, and the two decode to race (set in Tokyo) and whoever wins gets the loser to do what they want. Y'know classic setup.

You could choose where this leads to. Idc if we win or loose. All I want is a little bit of fluff sprinkled amongst some smut mayhaps. You could do this in headcannon format btw don't feel obligated to write the whole thing.

I'm just thirsting for any thing I can take 💀🙏🏼

Take your time! <3

pairing: han lue x racer!reader

words: 11.4k

warnings: some cursing and smut (pls wrap it before you tap it) don't judge my smut too much, it's been a while since i've written one

notes: hi anon! thank you for all your sweet, sweet words 🥺 i hope this is somewhere along the lines of what you were thinking of. as soon as i saw your request i was ✨inspired✨ it's been a long time since i've been so hooked by a oneshot. i have worked on it almost everyday since i received it so thank you! i changed the request just a little bit, i hope you don't mind.

trust me i know there is a ridiculous lack in han content! it's the reason i'm here writing over this man! there is not enough content for the speed i consume it, lol. i've read my own headcanons like 10 times already, excluding the times i was working on it.

anyways! might have gotten a little carried away but i enjoyed writing it so much! here you go! enjoy!

i really really hope you like it!!

Tokyo was the city where you learned how to street race. Weaving through the cars on the highway became second nature the harder you pressed the gas pedal. The neon lights turned into blurs as you sped down traffic, whether it was in search of a prize or a thrill.

You were meant to meet Han Lue. His presence became known as soon as he stepped foot in the parking complexes that serve as makeshift race tracks. He quickly became popular with the crowd, especially when he joined DK's crew.

His races were seen as exclusive, known to happen once in a blue moon. He was totally opposite to you. You took the opportunity to race any moment you could. It's what lead you to become a good racer. Practice makes perfect, after all.

'Good racer' is a bit of an understatement. You're one of the best right after DK. There's a debate about whether the second best is you or Han. Each person can take their pick. Many have suggested the idea for the both of you to race, but Han has shot down each and every one. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone. Besides, he hasn't had anything to gain from racing you.

People like to call you 'Angel' because when you started participating in the races, you looked like an absolute angel, but soon after, they discovered you raced like the devil. You fool everyone around you, even with the way you drive. Whenever someone has to go against you, they think they have your strategy down, yet you switch it up every time.

The distinctive revving of your car alerts Han of your presence. He glances to his left, where you've parked right beside him. As you open the door and step out of your car, he opens a bag of chips, depositing one into his mouth.

You walk over to him, leaning against his car like he is. The bare skin of your back arching slightly as it touches the cool metal. "Have I missed anything?"

Han shakes his head cooly, watching his surroundings. He spares you a glance, taking in what you're wearing. A short, shimmery dress with an open back and high heels. Seems like you don't plan on racing tonight. You refuse to race in high heels. You've tried before and failed. You didn't lose, but you did break off both heels.

You feel his eyes trailing over your body, and you don't mind it. You like that you can catch his attention that way. Having a crush on a guy like Han takes work. He has every woman's attention in the racing underground. They often cling to his arms and bat their eyelashes his way, and he has gladly taken a few of them home.

"You done judging my outfit?" You say, looking at him.

"Not judging, admiring," he promptly replies with a small shrug.

That right there is what feeds into your silly little crush. Han isn't afraid of your comments or banter. If you look good, he'll say it. It's the way he says it that irks you, though. He is so nonchalant and aloof like he's commenting on the weather.

It doesn't help that he's never truly made a move on you. He considers you his friend and acts that way (most of the time, at least). You hate every moment because being his friend is the last thing you want.

"I take it you're not gonna race tonight?" He asks, already knowing the answer. He just needed an excuse to talk to you. Digging into his bag of chips, he grabbed another one to pop into his mouth.

"Not unless it's against you," you respond cheekily.

Han chuckles, "Not you too."

"Are you afraid of losing, Han?" You ask him, keeping your eyes on the race about to start. Why else would he avoid racing you?

Han props one arm on the roof of his car, facing you and saying, "If you're into racing, you can't be afraid to lose, Angel."

"Then why don't you spoil me a little and race me?" You hum, turning your head to face him. He's much closer than you anticipated, but you resist the urge to pull back despite the reddening of your cheeks. You want Han to know you like him even if you refuse to say it out loud.

"Maybe one day when I have something to race for," he responds simply, kissing your cheek and turning back to watch the race.

You release a shaky sigh and try to calm your pounding heart. Extending a hand, you dip your fingers into Han's nearly empty bag of chips and steal one for yourself. Han doesn't mind lowering the bag to make it easier for you. There's a smirk on his face as he fully well knows what he did. It's fun to make you flustered.

Han is out on the streets of Tokyo doing business or collecting his money from the greedy hands of wanna be gangsters. It's entertaining, to say the least, although sometimes it gets tedious. It's only fun when they get rowdy and want to intimidate him. They should know better than to judge Han by his calm exterior.

He's walking by the busy streets of Shibuya, the shopping district of Tokyo, minding his business. Han avoids the masses of people until he looks into a store and sees you. You're by the checkout desk, ringing out a client.

Han can't help it; he's drawn to you. Forgetting the wad money he has to collect, he enters the store. The bell on top of it chimes, prompting you to greet the customer in an abnormally cheery tone.

"Hello, welcome to-Han?" You stutter over the greeting, seeing his slightly mocking grin.

Han walks over to you and leans on the counter, there was barely anyone in the store now. Perfect timing. He assesses you and your overly pink clothes, bedazzled name tag, and glossy pink lips. It's unlike you to be so pink. He recalls you telling him you hate the wretched color.

"So this is where you work, Angel," he hums, toying with the trinkets on the checkout counter.

"Not everyone can survive with racing and sketchy side deals," You mutter. One hand on your tilted hip as you shoot him an annoyed look.

If racing made you enough money, you certainly would not be working in a store that makes you wear pink on every single shift. You could get more involved in the sketchy part of racing, but things are alright for now.

"True," Han stifles a laugh. He grabs a lollipop from the big jar filled with sweets for the paying customers and pops it into his mouth.

You extend a hand to throw away the colorful wrapping, and he places it gently on your hand, fingertips grazing your palm. You're not a teenager to be reacting over such minuscule actions, yet you do.

"What are you doing here, Han?" Han adores it when you say his name that way, pretending to be annoyed by his presence when in reality, you love having him around.

"Wanted to visit my favorite girl," he responds aloofly, carefully gauging your reaction. As he expected, your cheeks redden, and you try to hide it.

"Did you know lying makes your nose grow long," you scoff, rolling your eyes.

"Could be useful," Han says cheekily, causing your blush to deepen.

"If you're not going to buy anything, you can't be here," you shoot with a pout.

You weren't prepared to face Han this afternoon. You didn't get to repeat your affirmation as you do every night you encounter him. His constant playfulness throws you off, not giving you the opportunity to compose yourself.

"Oh no, consumerism got its claws on you," he jokes sarcastically. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, which only emphasizes the size of your chest. "Fine, help me find a new jacket?"

You round the counter and motion for Han to follow you toward the men's section. Your coworker will have no problem taking over the checkout counter.

You shoot Han question after question in search of the perfect jacket for him: colors, textures, durability, versatility, sizing, and so on. He responds just as quickly, propping an arm up and leaning against a rack of clothes as he watches you storm all over the store in search of the item that screams Han. He had no intentions of buying anything today but seeing how invested you got it leaves him no choice.

"I quite like this one," you beam, standing Han in front of a full-length mirror. You slide off the jacket he's wearing and replace it with the nice black leather jacket you found for him. Dusting him off, you look into the mirror seeing how perfectly it fits his broad shoulders.

"Why do I feel like you're giving me the most expensive one?" Han asks, looking at himself in the mirror.

He had to admit you picked well. He looks great in the black leather jacket. It didn't have too many buckles to make him uncomfortable, and it wasn't too warm either. The material felt nice and luxurious hence his comment.

"You asked for my help," you shrug, "It's not my fault I have expensive taste. Besides, you look hot in it." You wink at Han through the mirror.

Han tries to hide the smile forming on his lips. You were getting bolder and bolder. He knows about your crush on him; you're terrible at hiding it. Truthfully, he's felt the same from the moment he saw you race. You're oblivious, though, so he likes to tease you.

"I'll take it," Han sighs, refusing to look at the price tag. "Might even wear it on a date."

"Oh, you've got a date?" Your smile falters, quickly regretting picking such a nice outfit that makes him look so handsome. You'd definitely put out if a man wore that to a date and was as lovely as Han. All of your hard work just for another girl to enjoy it. If you catch one of Han's little friends wrapped around the jacket...you will burn it.

"Not yet," he says mysteriously, taking off the jacket and returning to the checkout counter. Han has to get going. He does have to collect his money. Especially now that you've convinced him to buy the expensive leather jacket. 'It's an investment,' he tells himself.

"She'll be one lucky girl," you huff, scanning the tag, carefully folding it, and placing it on a bag. "Don't worry, I'll apply the friends and family discount."

You watch Han go through the display window and hope he was just fucking with you on the whole date thing. You can live with your crush and have him as just a friend, but if he gets a girlfriend, you will not be able to manage it. You scold yourself silently for acting like a lovesick teenager. You're better than that. Right?

Taking the party to Han's club after a race is a must, especially after winning six thousand dollars. You won't have to worry about rent for at least six months, which is something to celebrate.

You park next to Han's car, and he waits for you to enter the plain-looking building. People greet him left and right as they go through the door that pours music and lights each time it's opened.

"You sure are popular," you tease him, leisurely walking towards him.

"Comes with the territory," Han responds without missing a beat. "Ready?" He asks, motioning for you to walk ahead of him.

"Always," you chirp. You purposefully accentuate the sway of your hips, giving Han something to look at.

Being a Friday night, the inside is filled to the brim, there isn't any space for more drunken people. Using your short height to your advantage, you easily find a way to the connecting hallway between this part of the club and the more exclusive one.

Han isn't as lucky constantly losing you from his sight. He's conscious that you are a grown woman capable of making your own decisions and caring for yourself, but he'd feel better being with you.

When he catches up to you at a point, he grabs your hips, pressing you against him, preventing you from getting lost again. You look back, startled, expecting to see a stranger rubbing against you. Noticing this, Han quickly calms you, "It's just me, Angel."

'It's just Han,' you repeat to yourself. You grab onto one of his hands, holding onto your hip, taking full advantage of the situation. Having Han wrapped around you feels like being on cloud nine. If this wasn't his club, you'd be going in circles, so he never pulls away.

With Han holding onto you, the way to the 'not-so-secret' hallway takes longer than usual. Not that you're complaining, though! Han's firm grip makes you fall harder for him. It fuels your imagination on how it would feel in other situations.

Han enjoys this position just as much as you do. He can pretend it's a safety thing as he steers you away from the sweaty bodies of drunks dancing, but it's for his selfish gain.

Having your body close to him reminds him of what he's missing and desperately desires. It started as a little innocent game for Han, knowing you had a crush on him, but then it turned into something more. He likes that you have feelings for him and wants it to stay that way. Han wants your attention on him all the time. His games are over; he wants you.

To your surprise, Han doesn't let go of your waist when you enter the hallway. Instead, he slings one arm around it as he walks beside you. "Maybe we should've taken the other entrance," he smirks.

"And miss the show?" You chuckle, finding a couple making out in the deserted hallway. Neither is willing to admit it's not about the show but about Han's proximity.

Unlike all the other times in the past you've partied with Han, he doesn't let go of you for more than two minutes. You dance all night together, just the two of you, no girls coming up to Han and no guys coming up to you. There simply wasn't a window of opportunity.

"You enjoying yourself?" He says in your ear over the loud music. Your back is against his front as your sway and roll your body to the beat. One of his hands is nursing a drink, and the other is right where it should be, on you.

"I won 6k and have a cute guy buying me drinks and dancing with me. What do you think?" You giggle, turning in his arms to face him instead. The drinks stop you from overthinking and let you wrap your arms around his neck. Faces close. You want to kiss him so bad you're not drunk enough, though, and it's not the way you'd like to do it, either.

"Just making sure," he smiles down at you, hand on your lower back.

The night is long, yet with Han, it goes by so fast. Sooner than you'd prefer, he walks you to your car, no longer holding onto your waist but your hand. There are only a few stragglers left behind who refuse to acknowledge the night is over. You and Han are two of them.

Reaching your white and red, modified skyline Han opens the door for you. With one arm propped against the open door and the other extended onto the roof, Han cages you against your car. Before you get in, you turn to face him, finding the bravery to do something you've been thinking about all night.

"Thanks for tonight, Han. I had fun," you say softly, suddenly feeling shy.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds smoothly, brushing his fingers on your naked shoulder. The jacket you wore earlier was discarded somewhere in the bar. An excuse for Han to see you outside the races.

"Well, goodnight." Gathering every particle of bravery, you stand on your toes and peck his lips softly.

It's only a tiny, innocent kiss, yet it makes Han close his eyes. It happens too quickly for his liking. You have been growing bolder, bold enough to kiss him. He needs to step up his game.

Taking advantage of his distracted state, you close your car door and rev the engine. On the drive to your apartment, you squeal in excitement. Fingers ghost over your lips, replaying the small kiss over and over again.

Another chance at a race becomes available only days after your win. Men love to challenge women, especially those who are winning, much like you are.

They hate seeing you be successful, but it doesn't bother you in the least. It's another opportunity to win cash or a car, which you can use for parts and sell what you don't need.

As you roll up to the starting line, Han approaches your window, leaning down to duck his head in.

"Come to give me a good luck kiss?" You speak playfully, lips turned up into a smile.

You two haven't talked about what happened at the club and have continued to act as you usually do. He's been more touchy with you, though, often trying to find a way to be close to you. Being the lovestruck fool you are, you've encouraged it, finding those ways to let him be close.

"We both know you don't need luck. You've got this in the bag, Angel." Han speaks encouragingly, "Tell you what, though. You win, and it's yours."

"Making me earn it, I see," you laugh, shaking your head. "Alright, you've got a deal. See you on the other side."

Han is confident you'll win. With a last reassuring tap on your door, he steps back, finding his place in the crowd.

Your opponent finally drives up to the starting line, sending you an unnecessary nasty look you laugh at. The flag girl stands between the two cars, her dress leaving nothing to the imagination. You respect it. They are a lot more confident than you are in that department.

You are off when the word 'go' falls from her lips. You knew this track by heart, having raced it so many times. You knew exactly when to hit the gas and when to press the brake to get the car to swerve. Han's full attention is on your race, and when your car disappears to another level, he takes the elevator up to the top floor, where the finish line is. Watching you race is interesting. You always come up with ways to confuse your opponents.

With a bag of chips, he anxiously waits for your victory. Regardless of your ability to race and win, your races make him nervous. He cares about you, and so many things can go wrong.

The noisy crowd gets louder as the sound of tires screeching gets closer. In seconds, your car swerves onto the top floor, again marking you as the victor. There's not a scratch or bump in your car. Your opponent arrives shortly after with dents and long scratches in his paint.

The crowd cheers loudly for you, coming up to you to congratulate you and tell you how cool you looked. Your opponent comes up to you and hands you his keys with a scowl. You shrug it off. A deal is a deal.

Winning leaves you on a high, a feeling of invincibility wrapping around you. You've learned to control it because that feeling caused a big loss years ago. You get distracted by the people around you and forget Han's promise. It's funny because it was the only thing running through your head while you raced.

"Good job out there," Han says, catching up to you later in the night once the hype died down.

"Why, thank you!" You chirp, closing the hood of your car and leaning back to sit on it.

"I believe I made a promise," Han mentions, stepping close to you until you're face to face, only a few inches between the two of you. "You did," you nod, biting your lip.

Han notices this, bringing a hand up to cup your face, his thumb tugging your lip loose from the tight hold of your teeth. The other wraps around your waist, pulling you close. You slide on the warm metal of your car, placing a hand on his chest to brace yourself as Han settles between your legs.

"I'm a man of my word," he whispers, finally leaning down to press his eager lips against yours. Han is greedy for many things, and your lips are one of them. Ever since that night at the club, he's wanted to smash his lips against yours, to feel you close, taste you.

Your eyes instantly flutter close, fisting Han's shirt in your hand as if afraid he'll pull away too quickly. The kiss starts slowly as you both test the waters, but it soon becomes not enough. Han tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

It's an electric shock that consumes him and doesn't let him go. This is the result of Han holding himself back, and you made it worse when you gave him a taste the other night.

Han slips a hand under your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin. You gasp against his lips, arching your back as his cold fingers catch you by surprise. It serves as an opportunity for Han, his tongue pushing past your pouty lips, savoring the moment.

You gave into him, offering everything you have in exchange for this moment. His warmth wraps around you, burning you from the inside out. The need to breathe makes itself present too soon and becomes far more demanding than the need for each other's lips.

Han pulls away, your bottom lip between his teeth. You're breathless, as if you ran a marathon. You feel lightheaded, intoxicated by Han, who continues to peck your lips softly. He might be addicted already. The tips of his fingers draw soothing circles on your lower back, grounding you in the moment.

"So this is what winning feels like," you breathe out, smoothing Han's shirt with your palms. A futile way to hide their shakiness.

Han laughs, pressing his face against your neck and leaving a fleeting kiss behind. "Appears so, Angel."

A perk of being Han's friend is using his garage whenever you want. The days of paying for a spot to fix your car in a stranger's garage are far in the past. At the moment, you've spent the most part of the afternoon upgrading your car. The car you won on your last race sits beside yours with the hood popped open as you switched around pieces. He had quality parts, and his driving still sucked.

Twinkie, Earl, and the others are scattered around the large garage, working on different things and chattering. You had purposefully picked a spot away from them so you wouldn't get distracted. With work, your time is limited.

Han is on the second floor, leaning against the railing and pretending to watch the first floor and what they are doing. In reality, he is watching you closely.

You're bent over the hood of the car, working on unscrewing a tight bolt, cursing at the man who installed it initially. It's a sight straight out of his dreams. Your Nike sweatpants hung low on your hips, framing your ass perfectly. If he focused, he'd see the dimples on your lower back. His mind ran wild at the thought of pressing his thumbs against them while taking you from behind.

It's been a while since he's slept around. He cut himself off when he realized his feelings for you. What was the point of sleeping around if he wouldn't be satisfied? Those girls weren't you. They were temporary relief. Now, his pants tighten at anything you do. It's like he's seventeen again and unable to keep it in his pants.

He followed the curve of your ass to your arched back and the cropped shirt you wore. The matching crew neck sweater you arrived in is discarded in your car due to the heat. The revealing shirt rose with each of your movements, revealing the band of your baby blue bra. You tug on it for the millionth time today, annoyed.

The strands of hair you curled to frame your face stick uncomfortably to your sweaty forehead. You regret not putting them back into the two braids that fell over your shoulders.

Han needed to rip his eyes away from you before the others noticed. He's been staring for too long, fantasizing about everything he could do to you. To Han, you looked even more beautiful than you did that night with your sparkly dress and makeup. A woman who knows her way around a car is instantly a hundred times more attractive in his eyes.

As he accidentally visualizes you taking his cock from that same exact position, car included, you groan and straighten up. "I need help," you whine to no one in particular. The bolt is not budging, no matter how hard you try.

Han snaps out of his fantasy and springs into action, quickly appearing by your side. You've bent over again, wrench in hand, to give it one more try before giving up. He leans beside you, a hand on your lower back for faux support.

"What's the matter, Angel?" He says softly, one hand propping him up as he looks at the machinery under the hood. It's better if he helps you. He can't continue listening to your whines and groans.

"I need to unscrew those," you point at the bolts giving you a hard time.

Han asks for the wrench in your hands, and you place it in his hand, annoyed. You don't need the help of a man to do this, but it's Han, so you'll take it. You watch him as he places the wrench around the bolt, his arm tenses, emphasizing his muscles hidden by the short-sleeved button-up he wore over a white wife-beater tank.

His hair fell around his eyes as he successfully unscrewed the bolts. Feminism died as you lustfully took in Han, biting your lip. 'What a man,' you thought. You would've instantly refused the help if he had been any other guy.

"There you go," Han says, handing you the wrench. When he spares you a glance, he laughs softly. Good to know he has the same effect you have on him.

"Whatever would I do without you," you purr, shooting him a mischievous smile, "You deserve a reward." That's what it has come to, silly excuses to kiss Han because you're just friends. Nothing more.

Han looks at your lips briefly before snapping back to your eyes. You grin at him, leaning closer to kiss him for his 'hard work.' You know that he's been watching you all this time; you saw it from the reflective surface of the toolbox. Seeing his quickness to help you makes you believe he enjoyed the show.

Your lips brush teasingly against his, and just before Han can grab the back of your neck to stop the teasing, a loud bang tears through the room. Both you and Han pull away to see where the sound comes from, but Han bangs his head on the car's hood in the process.

"What the hell was that?" Han yells, rubbing the back of his head. He's annoyed that he's been interrupted.

"Sorry! The motor I was working on fell!" Earl exclaims from the other side of the garage, unaware of the daggers Han is throwing him.

"Best I get back to work," you quietly say with a chuckle, taking the piece you needed out of the car to bring it to yours.

"Yeah," Han says simply, reluctantly leaving to do his own thing.

Each and everyone that's in Han's garage returns to their business after the noisy interruption. Twinkie turns on a radio, blasting music to drown out the silence and clanking of tools. You work without interruption for the next three hours, giving your car all the love it deserves.

You clean your hands free of the motor oil and grease and search for Han. Your work for today was done. Now that you took anything valuable from the car you won, you had to sell it. You figured Han could do that for you.

"Hey, are you busy?" You ask him, seeing him working on a part by his desk.

"Nah, what's up, Angel?" He questions, dropping the screwdriver in his hand to focus all his attention on you.

Leaning on the desk casually, you begin speaking, "After I replace the bumper and give it a new paint job, can you sell that car for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," glancing at the car, Han agrees. It's a popular car in the racing world, and as soon as he gets the word out he's selling it, many offers will pop up.

"You're the best, Han!" You beam at him, pushing yourself off the desk to return downstairs.

"Angel, wait," he calls after you. Being your friend has been fun, yet he needs more. You shouldn't have to come up with excuses to kiss him; you should be able to do it freely whenever you want.

"Yes, Han," you ask softly, tilting your head in question.

Standing up from the rolling chair, he approaches you, "Do you want to go on a date?"

A grin sneaks past your lips before you even process what he said. Instantly, you nod your head, "I'd love to." You could combust at that moment. Finally, after months of pining, Han asked you out.

"Let's go," he smiles, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his car.

"Wait, now?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Yes, unless you have something more important," he asks, teasing you.

"Nothing is more important, but I'm a mess," you shake your head hesitantly. You spent your afternoon working on cars, sweating, and getting covered in grease. You didn't think it would be in sweatpants when you pictured going on a date. Not to mention the state of your hair.

"No, you're not. If you must know, you've had me distracted all day," Han whispers the last part in your ear, trying to convince you even if it means giving himself away.

"Am I supposed to apologize?" You question, the corner of your lip curving into a sultry smile. You had been right all along.

"No, just agree to the date. Be spontaneous," Han bounces his eyebrows cutely.

"Let's do it," you sigh, hoping you won't regret it.

"Atta girl," Han smiles victoriously.

Han tries to remember the last time he had a proper date. Even with his ex, they just sort of happened. No date ever officially branded as such. It's why rather than asking you and waiting for the day to arrive, he decided to do it spontaneously. It leaves him no time to be nervous or to overthink things.

You slide your sweatshirt back on on the way out to shield yourself from the chilly Japanese night. Han opens the door to his car for you, shutting the door when you slip in. The drive is short as he takes you to a small family-owned sushi place he swears by.

"I'm surprised you eat more than chips and crackers," you joke with him as the food arrives, and he takes a bite.

"I definitely eat more than that," Han replies nonchalantly, referring to something else entirely. It's something you don't catch despite your dirty mind.

A discussion develops when you discover Han always orders the same thing in the restaurant. He's in Japan. He needs to throw himself into the culture and try new things.

Starting easy, you grab a piece of sushi from your plate, "You need to try this."

"I don't know," Han grimaces as he looks at the sushi held in your chopsticks.

"That's not an answer. Open your mouth," you groan, gently placing the sushi roll in his mouth.

You watch him chew slowly, getting a feel for the new food. "It's good," he agrees, liking whatever you had ordered. It was delicious, actually.

"Better than yours, right?" You ask him, knowingly, pointing your chopsticks at him.

"Yes," he rolls his eyes, refusing to give you the satisfaction.

"Told you," you sing, grabbing both plates and placing them in the middle of the table. Now you could each grab from both and share your meals.

The date goes smoothly. It's a wonder why the two of you hadn't gone to dinner before today. You already know Han is attentive and funny but his wisdom surprises you. He's already lived through so much, more than an average person. Despite being a couple years older than you, he retains his youth. That may be why he appeals to a younger crowd as well.

"What was your life like growing up?" You ask him, taking a drink from your Coke. Han ordered another plate of sushi to share, the one you chose earlier.

"My upbringing wasn't the best," he shrugs, remembering his life in California as a teen. "I was always in trouble."

"Why does something tell me that you were the one causing the trouble," you say, narrowing your eyes.

"I definitely was," he chuckles, "But in the end, it brought me here, and I'm happy."

Han believes in the timing of life. He's been after Tokyo for so long. Before stepping foot in Tokyo, he had to go through the Dominican Republic, Rio, Germany, Shanghai, London, and many more places. It was supposed to happen that way, or he wouldn't have met you.

"I knew it," you sigh dramatically, "I've always been into bad boys."

"What about you, Angel?" He returns the question, curious about your past.

"I grew up in a normal Japanese family. My dad's a mechanic, my mom a nurse, and my sister a pain in the ass. I went to school for engineering and graduated with top honors," you tell him, reminiscing on your not-as-impressive past.

"You say that as if it's easy to graduate with top honors," Han chides you, to which you roll your eyes. "Why work retail? Doesn't engineering make you a lot more money?"

"Don't laugh, okay?" You point at Han. When he agrees not to laugh, you continue, "I wanted to be a Formula 1 racer when I was younger. My dad signed me up to participate in smaller competitions, and I was pretty damn good. My mom was totally against it and forced my dad and me to quit.

Fast forward, I'm in college, and engineering seemed like the way to go. Learned about street racing and figured that could be a way back into my dream. It's a foolish thought. The professionals spend years in proper circuits practicing and competing. No one comes with a background of illegal racing."

Han wasn't expecting that answer. He assumed you hated engineering and did it to appease your parents. He wonders why you thought he would laugh. Your dream is nothing to laugh at. Having witnessed your racing, you undoubtedly had the innate talent. "So retail?" He prompts, realizing you didn't answer the first question.

Snapping your fingers, you say, "Right! I figured I'd always have my degree. I'd rather spend my time having fun now; when the time comes, I'll return to that. I do like it, but I'm not ready to commit to a life of 9 to 5's. I prefer spending my time in the wee hours of the night racing. Since I can't be a Formula 1 racer, I'll be a street racer. Much cooler, anyways."

"That takes guts," Han tells you, "I'm glad you're doing it."

You give him a little shrug and a smile because you were too. Despite your childish dream dying when your mom forced you to quit, you're still happy with your life. Especially if you end up with a guy like Han.

Han, being a gentleman, pays for dinner. Before returning to the car, you stop by a convenience store for dessert. Han follows you buying snacks for himself. In search of something sweet, you find a shelf filled with Pocky. You grab the chocolate-covered ones with a plan in mind.

You and Han sit at a table outside the convenience store. It was getting late, so only a few people were around. You open the packet of Pocky, taking out a chocolate-covered stick.

"Have you ever played the Pocky game?" You ask, taking a bite of the treat.

"No. What is it?" Han looks at you curiously.

"Essentially, you grab one end of the Pocky stick, and I grab the other. We have to eat it, but if one of us pulls away, they lose," you respond simply, hiding the game's purpose.

"That sounds awfully like Lady and the Tramp," Han mentions, catching onto your intentions.

Offering him a stick, you say, "Want to play?"

Han smiles at you and grabs the Pocky stick placing the biscuit end between his teeth. You hold the chocolate-covered end and tap his hand to start. You both take it slow, Han opting to stay still as you near his lips. You tilt your head when you're close to his lips, giving him the perfect opportunity to kiss you when only a small piece is left.

You smile into the chocolate-flavored kiss. If you wanted to kiss Han, you could've done it without so many sneaky plans or excuses, but it wouldn't be as fun.

"So, who won?" Han asks when you pull away.

"Does it matter?" You cheekily say, pulling him back in for another kiss.

There's no flaw in your reasoning. Han pulls you close, lifting your legs to lie in his lap. You spend more time than you care to admit making out outside the convenience store.

Han offers to drive you to your apartment since your car needs to be finished. Throughout the drive, his hand is laced with yours in your lap. Small talk flows between you as you continue to learn about each other.

Smoke coming from your apartment building cuts that conversation short. Firefighters stand outside the building, spraying water into the source of the fire. Han steps out of the car with you to ask anyone what is going on.

Noticing the building manager across the street, you approach him. He quickly blurts out all the information he knows. You're one of many of the tenants to approach him. "There's a fire on the sixth floor. We don't know the damage yet. I understand this is your residence, but you need somewhere else to say for the next few days while we asses the damage and inspect the building."

"What am I going to do?" You groan, covering your face with your hands. You worry about where you'll stay and your stuff in your apartment. You have important documents in there.

"You can stay with me," Han offers without a hint of hesitation.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose." It's nice of Han to offer you a place to stay, but would it be too much at this stage of their situationship. Last thing you want is to push boundaries.

"You're not imposing. Let me help you," Han insists, grabbing your hand to rub soothing circles in it. It's a given he has feelings for you, but before that, you are his friend, and he's not going to leave you out on the streets or sleeping in your car.

Han offers you calming words on the way to his apartment. Your apartment is on the twelfth floor and the other side of the fire. Chances are that your stuff will probably be fine. Whether the building will close for renovations is another matter entirely.

His apartment is just another level to the building he owns. Its entrance is on a more private side. Inside, it's very clean and organized, a surprise since you expect most guys to be messy. Picture frames and knick knacks are scattered throughout the space, giving you more of a glimpse into Han's life.

It's quiet between the two of you but comfortable. Han is giving you time to process what you saw in your building. He offers you his shower if you'd like, and when you brought up you didn't have any clothes, he searched for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants you could borrow from him.

A shower is just what you need as you let the water cascade down your body. Fire aside, it has been a great day, even before Han asked you on a date. Hope fills your being at the prospect of soon beginning a relationship with Han. So far, everything points out it can happen. There haven't been any red flags or hesitation from him.

You change into the oversized t-shirt Han picked out for you and the spare pair of underwear you always carry in your bag. Smart girls know to carry a spare in case of emergencies. You debate about wearing the sweatpants he left for you but choose against it. The t-shirt covers enough.

You shyly make your way out of the bathroom in search of Han. You find him in the bedroom, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket. "The bed is yours," he mentions, eyes briefly trailing your naked legs.

"Where will you sleep?" You ask, furrowing your eyebrows. If anyone has to sleep on the couch, it should be you.

"I'll take the couch," he responds, as you expected.

"Han, stop being a gentleman and get in bed with me," you say, taking the pillow from his grasp and placing it back on the top of the bed.

He offers you an 'Are you sure?' look, and you nod confidently. He doesn't need to be told twice. Han steps out of the bedroom for a few minutes and grabs a shower. Taking that time, you get on the bed to get comfortable, it's soft, and you sink into it.

You're snoozing off when he returns to the room. Han carefully peels back the sheets and gets under them. Feeling the bed dip, you turn to the side to face him.

Your sleepy mood makes you cuddle up to him without much thought. The smell of his soap invades your senses. Han naturally accepts it, throwing an arm around your waist and hugging you closer, legs intertwined. He kisses the top of your head, finding comfort in the position.

Thankful doesn't begin to cover how you feel. There's this overwhelming sense of security that comes with Han. There is something about him that makes you trust him. Deep down, you know he wouldn't intentionally hurt you.

"How are you feeling?" Han checks up on you before you fall asleep.

"I'm okay. I hope none of my things got damaged," you mumble into his chest, pressing a kiss into it afterward. "Thank you for everything, Han. Your help with the car, the date, letting me invade your bed," you finish with a soft laugh.

"Anytime, Angel," he responds truthfully. If he can help you in any way, he will. Sleep consumes both quickly after, and it becomes the best night you've both had in a while.

The following day you're the first to wake. Han's arms are around your waist, and you feel his breath tickle the back of your neck. He's warm, and you just want to sink into it even more. Your need to pee pries you out of his embrace, though.

As carefully as possible, you slip out of his loose grasp and head to the bathroom. Han had picked out a toothbrush for you the night before, which you're thankful for. Shuffling out of the bathroom, you cook breakfast for Han as a 'thank you' for his hospitality.

You pick the ingredients you need from his fridge, careful not to make too much noise. Your progress is slower than you prefer as you get used to the kitchen layout and localize everything you might need.

Soon enough, you drop pancake batter into the pan, and while that cooks, you scramble eggs with veggies. Since it's his kitchen, you assume he'll like what you make. It's his ingredients, after all.

Just after finishing the last batch of pancakes, you hear the patter of Han's feet entering the kitchen. You turn to glance at him quickly and greet him, "Good morning! I made you breakfast, sit!"

"You didn't have to do that," Han says, coming up behind you. He traps you between his body and the stove as if having you close last night wasn't enough.

"Yes, I did! You let me stay here, borrow clothes, sleep in your bed," you flip the pancakes as you count all the nice things he's done in less than 24 hours.

Humming, unconvinced, Han kisses your cheek and thanks you. It sends a tingle between your legs as his voice is raspy and deep from sleep. Your cheeks flare up, betraying you as always.

Han follows your orders and sits by the kitchen table, waiting till you're done to begin eating. With that time in his hands, he observes you. You're wearing the t-shirt he loaned you, which swallowed your frame. Each time you flipped a pancake, it rose slightly to reveal the light green fabric of your panties. Han soaked the sight in and wondered if this was what waited for him in the near future.

His eyes continue trailing down to your thick thighs. He wouldn't mind being trapped between them. Lower and lower, his gaze went from your pretty legs to your varnished toes. Back up, it went as you turned off the stove and approached the table. You weren't wearing a bra under the t-shirt, as your nipples poked through the thin fabric.

Han's glad he didn't notice these things last night, or he wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink. Spreading his legs, he tried to hide the hard-on he was sporting. None the wiser, you sit on the empty chair near him and tell him to eat up.

Shooing the dirty thoughts from his mind, Han thanks you one more time and digs in. It's a lovely morning, with light chatter bouncing between you. Han praises your cooking every chance he gets and even finishes the pancakes you left over but not before drenching them in more syrup. When both of you are done, you clear the plates and place them in the sink to wash.

"Angel, come 'ere," Han calls from behind you.

Mindlessly you walk over to him, wondering what he wants. Han grabs your waist, pulling you to his lap. "Han, what are you doing? I have to do the dishes!" You squeal, holding onto him, afraid he'd let you fall.

"No, you don't," he speaks softly, one hand cupping your cheek.

"I don't?" you prompt, leaning into his touch.

"Let me properly thank you," he offers, lips chasing yours. Han can't contain himself any longer. You've done a number on him, strutting around his kitchen in your underwear. He wants you. He needs you.

You lean into the kiss as you always do, pouring everything you have into it. Tasting the coffee on his tongue, you bring your hand around the back of his neck, softly tugging the long strands of hair. Han groans into the kiss, having missed that sensation.

Repositioning yourself, you straddle Han in the rickety kitchen chair. You feel his hands all over your body, trailing down your back to grasp your ass in his palms. Every so often, you'd resurface to breathe but dip down again and again to continue kissing him.

Han feels himself harden as you rub your center against him deliciously. It's clear as day you want him just as much as he wants you.

"Want to spoil me and fuck me?" You breathe heavily, kissing Han's neck.

"So bold," Han chuckles, his hands wandering under the t-shirt to feel your warm skin, his nails faintly scratching your back, sending shivers down your spine. "Six months ago, you would've been too scared to ask me that."

Six months ago, you would've been too scared to kiss him on the cheek, but you've come a long way. As time passes, you realize your feelings are not one-sided because Han means every word he speaks to you despite his taunting nature. Each and every complement is honest.

"I got tired of waiting around for you," you bite back, nipping his neck and sucking a pretty bruise on it.

Han hisses at the momentary sting, "I thought I was just a friend?"

You laugh sarcastically, picking your head up to stare at him, "I don't let friends kiss me or grope my ass."

"What does that make me then?" Han raises an eyebrow, cheekily squeezing your ass as a smirk forms on his lips.

"Special," you shrug, lips pouty and swollen.

"Because?" He wants to hear you say that you feel something for him. It's a last hurrah on giving you a hard time for fun.

You realize it's time to be honest and come out with it. You stopped hiding your feelings a while ago. Hell, you even asked Han to fuck you. All that's left is to admit your feeling out loud. "Because I have feelings for you, Han Lue," you whisper, brushing the hair that threatens to fall over his eyes.

"That's all you had to say," Han murmurs, catching your lips in a passionate kiss.

The heat rises with each passing moment. Your feelings have now come to a boil and bubbled over. Han picks you up easily and sits you on the kitchen table. He leaves his touch on your naked back to trace the outside of your thighs. It's time to give you precisely what you asked for and what he has been fantasizing about for far too long.

Grabbing the elastic band of your panties, Han slides them down the curve of your ass and your thighs until they are off. He throws them somewhere in the room, the information unimportant for now.

"Han, please," you whine, spreading your legs wider and giving him access to your most private part. You beg between kisses to feel his touch where you need it most.

"So impatient, Angel." Han jabs lightly as his right-hand touches the inside of your thigh. The pads of his fingers brush over your thighs repeatedly, nearing the apex more and more with each stroke.

You gasp as he finally dips a finger into your folds, gathering the slick that formed to spread it around your bundle of nerves. You gasp, breaking the kiss and throwing your head back.

Han sucks on your neck and collarbones as you moan into the air. Slipping a finger into your tight walls, he groans, thinking about how they'll feel around his hard cock.

"Fuck, Han, feels so good," you sigh when Han adds another digit into your soaking core and presses on your clit with his thumb.

"I didn't realize I made you this wet," he says into your neck as you grind your hips into his hand. You must've been wanting this for as long as he has.

"Liar," you respond, staring at him with hooded eyes. The nights you've touched yourself while thinking about him are many. The real thing is a million times better.

Han watches you intently, catching every little reaction you have to his touch. The moans and whines echo through the room and are music to his ears. Without a doubt, there's a wet patch in his boxers as his tip leaks precum from the erotic sight in front of him.

Your walls clenching around him alert him you're close, and promptly after you make it known as you beg him not to stop, except he doesn't listen and stops just as you're about to cum.

"Why did you stop?" You complain, eyes wide in desperate need.

"Want you to cum on my tongue," he responds, stealing a quick kiss before he kneels on the floor. Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he scoots you closer to the edge.

His words shoot another current down your legs, no doubt making more of a mess. You wait with bated breath as Han kisses the inside of your thighs, making eye contact with you as he delves into your pussy.

He licks up from your hole up to your clit. You grasp his hair with one hand, pulling the t-shirt up with the other to better look at him going down on you. Your eyes roll involuntarily when Han wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. His long fingers find your opening once more, sliding in effortlessly.

You try to maintain eye contact with Han through it all. If his hair fell on his eyes, you'd quickly brush it back, not wanting to miss his lustful gaze. It spurred Han on to see you crumbling over him, biting your lip as you tried to hide the pretty cries that wanted to fall from your lips.

Han stops licking your clit and slows his thrusting fingers each time you near your orgasm. Time and time again, he repeats this when you're near the edge. Only when your arousal coats his hand he keeps his pace, and as you whine out, 'gonna cum, don't stop,' he slips his tongue into your pussy, tasting your cum directly from the source.

He makes a great example of what his nose can do as it brushes over your clit while he tongue fucks you. You trap Han between your legs as your pussy clenches, your orgasm coming in waves. As you relax back onto the kitchen table, Han continues to lick your puffy center, being careful with your sensitive nub.

When he stands, you fist his t-shirt, smashing your lips together, tasting your essence. "Let's take this to the bedroom," Han pants. You nod eagerly and squeal when he picks you up, your legs wrapped around his waist.

You leave a trail of kisses on his neck as he makes his way to the bedroom. Once there, you both fall on the bed, Han hovering over you. He tugs on your t-shirt, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, this has to come off."

Without the shirt, he can admire your naked body. A lone finger slides down from your neck to your sternum. It slides to your side near the curve of your left breast, where a small sakura flower is tattooed.

"This is my new favorite thing about you," Han softly says, noticing you staring at him.

The tattoo was an impulsive thing to do. You had wanted a tattoo for years but never knew what to get. After your last breakup two years ago, you got the little flower instead of getting bangs and dying your hair. It has no real meaning to you. It's just a cute flower.

"You're the first to see it since I got it done," you tell him, a laugh bubbling from your lips as his touch on your ribs tickles.

"And I hope it stays that way," he responds. It's an unspoken promise. He wants you all to himself for the foreseeable future.

His finger continues the trajectory down your tummy, lightly going over your belly button before it traces over your mound and dips to touch your clit.

You gasp at the surge of pleasure as your clit remains sensitive from his previous actions. "Gotta say it's not fair that I'm the only one naked," you moan when Han continues to circle your nub.

"What are you gonna do about it?" Han incites you to see what you'll do.

Any remaining shyness you had is long gone as lust replaces it. You kneel in front of Han, who leans back to watch you. Your chest is close to his face, so when you lean closer to grab the hem of his shirt, he sucks one of your nipples.

"Han," you whine, arching your back," "Stop distracting me."

Ignoring his mouth on you, you grab his shirt and pull it off. Successfully making him stop his attack on your breasts. You peck his lips and kiss down his jaw.

You take your time kissing his toned chest and stomach. You wish to memorize every part of him. "You're so handsome, Han," you purr, glancing up at him.

Those simple words that spilled from your mouth made his heart flutter. Han is used to being the one to dish out compliments and praise the women he's with. To have you say that is like a breath of fresh air, and he can't wait to have more.

"Fuck, Angel," he groans, grasping your chin. You kiss his palm with a smile that's equally angelic and devilish.

You want to peel two more layers off Han's body and decide to do it all at once. Grasping the band of his pants and boxers, you slowly pull them down, building anticipation.

His cock springs out of its confines, landing on Han's abdomen. You don't hide your curious gaze as you take in his cock. It's so big it makes you bite your lip in anticipation. The tip is a dark pink as it drips with precum.

After you remove his pants entirely, you grasp his cock, feeling the warmth and weight of it. Han breathes out through his nose, a futile attempt to keep his cool. A string of saliva drips from your lips, coating his hard length. Each stroke you made caused a bead of pre to spill from him.

You take it as an invitation to taste him, wrapping your lips around his head your tongue licks the beads of white.

Han does the impossible not to push your head down to take all of him. The thought is present, though. You've barely teased him compared to how he teased you, but Han can no longer resist.

"I need you," Han groans, calling out your name, not the nickname you've been donned for the past three years.

You don't take it for granted. Hearing your name sends you into overdrive. Han pulls you up to kiss you and lies you down on the top of the bed. He comfortably gets between your legs that hug his waist to bring him closer. His cock brushes your wet pussy, and you both hiss at the sensation. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the thought of having Han fill you entirely.

"You ready, Angel?" Han asks you. One arm holding him up and the other wrapped around your thigh, giving you a comforting squeeze. Time stops ticking at that moment. It's just you and Han wrapped in each other.

"I've been ready for the past month, Han. Fuck me, please," you plead quietly, your fingertips running up and down his back.

"Just because you said, please." Han lines his cock up to your entrance and pushes past your lips into your warm center. Relief floods through the both of you, but it soon dissipates, and it's replaced by waves of unfiltered lust.

Han starts fucking into you deep, at the perfect pace. Your eyes involuntarily close as you feel Han's cock stretching you open and filling you like never before. Han kisses your temple and releases sexy moans into your ear with words of encouragement.

'Such a tight pussy just for me.'

'Taking me so good, Angel.'

'Can't get enough of you.'

You echo his words, encouraging him to keep fucking you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to hold on to anything, and your heels dig into his lower back. The closeness between you is intoxicating, your scents mixing and becoming one, his hair ticking your face, his warm skin heating up yours.

Han slows the pace momentarily, leaning back on his knees to see your pretty cunt taking his cock. He wants to commit to memory how your pussy spreads to make way for his cock, a white ring on the base of his cock, and how your little clit is exposed and vulnerable to his touch.

The other girls he's slept with only got part of his attention and dedication. He didn't mean to make a huge impression. He only did his job, often choosing to lie back and let them do as they pleased with him.

With you, it's different. He wants to give you his all and leave a great impression. He'll do all the work; you can just take it if that's what you want. That's the difference between you and the other girls. He lived to spoil you.

Meanwhile, you fall apart under him, moaning incoherent phrases he can barely make out. He loves hearing them, though. You reach for Han's hand as he increases his pace and grips it tightly.

Han slips his cock out of you, wanting to make his fantasy a reality. You shudder at the empty feeling and whine, "No, don't stop."

"Come on, Angel. Get on your knees," Han coo's at you, kissing your pouty lips. "Promise you'll cum soon."

Han positions you on your knees, your back arched as your tits rub against the bed sheets. You huff through it all, desperate to have him pounding into you again. He smacks your ass when you wiggle it to get him to do what you want.

Han enters you in one smooth motion, this position amplifying your pleasure as he hits the spongy spot inside of you more directly.

"Han!" You cry out, fisting the sheets underneath you.

"I'm right here, Angel," Han breathes, snapping his hips rhythmically.

Just as he visualized, he grabs your hips in his large hands and digs his thumbs into the dimples on your back. With a tight hold, he thrusts into you unrelentingly, and you push back onto him just as eagerly. Your cries are muffled by the pillow you're hugging to your face.

Your pussy swallows him with each thrust, even as it clenches to prepare for orgasm. He can't hold back any longer as his balls clench with each faltering thrust, and your walls squeeze him tighter than ever.

" 'm cumming," you squeal, your legs tense up and shake. Your walls contract and release in a rhythmic motion that sends Han over the edge, your name on the tip of his tongue.

Han pulls out of you, helping you get back onto a comfortable position, and lies beside you, catching his breath. He turns to look at you, and you do the same. You can't hold his gaze long as you furiously blush.

Han laughs, grabbing your hand to lace your fingers together. "You can't get shy now!"

"I can't control it!" You exclaim, hiding your face with the same pillow as earlier.

The rest of the day is spent in bed. Han ignores his daily responsibilities and stays in, getting lost in your touch and making promises he hopes to keep.

One Year and a Half Later...

You drive up to the empty parking complex. It's similar to the one you spend your nights on. Driving up the floors, you find Han where he told you he'd be. He leans against the familiar orange car, a bag of chips in his hands. A nice lather jacket covers his arms, making you smile when you remember how he got it in the first place.

"Hey, you wanted to meet me here?" You question, getting out of your car.

Approaching him, you kiss his salty lips and wait for an explanation regarding the random meet-up spot. In the entire year and a half of you dating, he's never asked you such a weird request.

"You feeling up to race?" Han asks you, holding your hand in his.

It's been years since the two of you met, and for the same amount of time, people have been pining you two to race. He denied every request, including the ones you threw every once in a while.

"It's about time," you exclaim, excitement filling your body. "What's at stake?"

There is something up Han's sleeve. You know that much. There is something he wants from you if he suddenly wants to race you. He could just ask. You'll give him everything he desires. You play along, though.

"Winner gets the other's car," he offers, pushing himself off the car to wrap his arms around you to hug you, his thumb soothingly brushing over the spot where your tattoo is. He last saw you when you left for your new engineering job early in the morning.

"You're willing to sacrifice your car?" You chuckle, implying you are going to win.

"It's only fair," he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

With one last peck, he lets you go and gets in his car. You follow his lead, lining up your car to the imaginary starting line. Han sets up a timer, and once it went off, both cars lurched forward at high speeds.

You focus on the race, forgetting it's Han you're competing with. You've been dying to go against him for so long, desperate to find out who was the better racer between the two.

As expected, Han makes it hard for you. The race is neck and neck as you drift up the floors of the building. Whenever Han takes the lead, you find a way to get ahead. You see the end near, and Han threatens to surpass you, but with one last boost, you keep your position, winning the race.

You leap out of your car, feeling the high of the race. No one has kept you on your toes for so long. It's a satisfying win. Han walks out of his car more calmly, smiling, happy to see you celebrate. It didn't matter to him that you were better. You deserved it.

"I can't believe I won," you exclaim, jumping into his arms as he spins you around.

"I can, and I'm so proud," Han says, kissing all over your face.

The race's prize is forgotten as you celebrate, but Han reminds you by handing you his keys, "A deal is a deal." You take the keys from him as a mere formality. You're not taking Han's precious car. Racing him is enough for you.

The weight of the keys is strange to you. They tend to be much heavier. Opening your palm to inspect them, you see that his keychains and spare keys are missing. In their place is a diamond ring.

"Han, what-" you stutter, whipping up to look at him.

"My car is yours. I figured I could be yours too. Will you marry me?" Han takes the keys from you, getting down on one knee and removing the ring from the holder.

From all the possible scenarios you had in mind from this clandestine meeting, Han's proposal was not one of them. Nevertheless, you have your answer instantly.

"Yes," you nod, choking back a sob.

Han grabs your hand and slides the ring onto your fourth finger. It's a perfect fit, just like Han. You drop down in front of Han, ignoring the dirty floor, to kiss and hug him.

Han kisses away your tears, a smile permanently etched on his face. He never thought he'd see the day he would settle down, but this past year has been near perfection with you, and he doesn't see himself with anyone else.

"Did you let me win to set this up?" You ask him later that night. His arms are wrapped tightly around you as you lie on his chest.

"No," he answers simply, kissing your head.

"You let me win," you then say assertively.

"No, I did not, Angel," he answers again, hiding his smile in your hair.

"I don't believe you. We have to race again," you tell him, lifting your head to glance at him.

"I don't have a reason to. I've got everything I want right here. Take the win, Angel," Han tells you sweetly, his fingers playing with your ring.

"For now," you huff, settling back down and cuddling up to him.

Fin.

thank you for reading! i didn't mean for it to be this long although i'm sure you guys are not complaining!

this was so much fun to write. guys like i am in love with han lue, i've spent hours on tiktok watching han lue and sung kang edits. i need help! tell me i'm not the only one like this!

requests are still open ❤️

#request #han lue imagine #fanfiction #fast and furious fanfiction #fast and furious #han lue fanfiction #han seoul oh #han lue x reader #han lue request #han lue #han lue imagines #han x reader #han x you #han lue smut #smut

1K notes · View notes

hirocimacruiser · 1 year

Text

▼ A work that goes with the main stream of highway racers (Is there such a thing!?) with flashy coloring, jagged nose, and two bamboo spears. Above all, Erai commutes in this, so I've lost my mind.

Soarer 2.0GT

Written by Takashi Abe

(Miyagi Prefecture)

Appeared on 6/26

devil

#Z10 Soarer #highway racer #bosozoku

5 notes · View notes

eyvindm · 7 months

Text

Highway Racer Development Update

Using everything I've learnt about GDevelop from the previous games (Pixel Quest & Asteroid Defence), the start of the racing game has been pretty smooth. Movement, car spawns and how to lose is all good. Here is a screenshot of the game so far:

I have some great plans to further polish the game. Everything from polishing up the grassy background to adding a highscore system. I'll create another update when the game is all finished :)

#Highway Racer #Game Design #Cars

0 notes

boanerges20 · 8 months

Text

Motolove

#motorcycle #biker girl #wild n sexy #road trip #highway #forest road #adventure #explore #nature #cafe racer #caferacer #style #moto love #lifestyle

72 notes · View notes

en-ternity · 11 months

Text

⋅ GENRES: strangers to lovers & summer romance; angst, fluff & smut

⋅ PAIRING: street racer!Heeseung x fem!reader

⋅ WORD COUNT: 26.8K

⋅ WARNINGS: illegal street racing (oh, really?!); mentions of alcohol, implied driving while drunk; a fight scene, mentions of blood and bruises; Heeseung is flirty and it’s a concerning warning; skinny dipping; unprotected sex multiple times

TRACK 01 OF TAKE MY HAND

Heeseung had never believed in love, at least not the real thing — not the capable of awakening his soul and bringing peace to his mind type of love.

It happened to other people, in other places, but not to him in the small county of Hongcheon. Yet, it did.

In the summer of his twenty-four years, you came into his life, and from the moment he saw you, he knew he was gone — heart on the flatline.

Lee Heeseung wasn’t the type of person to obey the speed limits. He maybe once was, but after so many years in the race, he had become too impatient for it.

He liked the speed. He liked how the sound of the engine muffled his heartbeats, the way the gear stick felt familiar against the palm of his hand, and above all — he liked how, even if for just a few moments, he was capable of being free from everything.

If someone ever dared to take the road up the hills, it wouldn’t be hard to find him there — beneath the scorching sun and leaving only the idea of the memory of his black BMW as he raced through.

And it hadn’t been different on that first afternoon of summer.

Heeseung stepped on the brakes, raising a trail of smoke as the car squealed through the asphalt before coming to a stop. It didn’t take long until Jake followed suit, pulling beside him with his showy Camaro. However, the breeze barely had time to heal from all the racing noises before Heeseung shot the car forward and back, causing Jake to laugh loudly. Both of them, connoisseurs of the street races, knew Heeseung was inciting another race, even though they had just finished one.

“We have to head back,” Jake shouted. “Or else we are going to be late and Jungwon is going to be mad — I don’t like it when Jungwon is mad.”

The clock of the BMW showed precisely half past six, and the town was right beneath them. If they followed the speed limits they would arrive just on time, but if they didn’t — the possibilities were infinite.

“To the town’s entrance then?” Heeseung asked, making Jake laugh once again.

“Just down the hill,” he agreed. “It's summer and the highways are going to be full.”

“Deal.”

Jake stepped on the gas pedal, making the Camaro wail with no previous warning. It was a glorious car — with its capacity, Heeseung always thought it was an almost equal competitor to his BMW M4, but Jake always messed up the shift from the fourth to the fifth gear. It doesn’t matter how many times he raced, Jake always lost the precious second between them, and Heeseung always used it to blow by.

Through the rearview mirror, Heeseung saw Jake laughing at the already lost competition, but he didn’t hold to it for too long. Between a turn and another, Hongcheon spread beyond him, the beautiful town embroiled in the middle of a steady chain of hills and a sparkling river. The sky was an ideal shade of orange above it all, with not a single cloud to shade the late sunset.

The summer of his twenty-four years was beginning, although Heeseung didn’t know what it truly meant — yet.

┈┈┈┈

When you agreed to join your family on their annual summer trips after years of fully dedicating yourself to the university. You surely didn’t expect your first night away would be so university-like.

Your parents had chosen Hongcheon as the destination, a stunning and peaceful county just one hour away from Seoul. With a rented house on the hill and a back garden the size of a park, you expected a lay-down vacation — full of ice teas and watching sunsets on the back porch. Perhaps it would have been if the county wasn’t as well Hayoung’s hometown, your cousin and friendly guide as she entitled herself while she pulled you out of the front doors and into the summer night.

By the time you arrived at the house of whoever her colleague and party hostess was, the place was already full to its end, the strum of a low bass blasting through the opened door, and the interior heavy with the smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and too many damp skins.

“Hayoung!” someone screamed above the loud music.

The stranger stopped before both of you, his lazy smile and unfocused eyes only advising he was already wavering between the states of soberness and drunkenness.

“Who’s that?” he asked, pointing at you with the tip of his beer.

“Y/N, my cousin.”

“Lovely, I didn’t know you had one,” he said. You furrowed your eyebrow at that, a perfect mirror of your cousin’s reaction. If there was something to say, you didn’t know what it could be, and neither did Hayoung as she preferred to change the topic.

“Have you seen Sunhae?”

“Rooftop with that Jungwon guy of hers and his friends.”

“Thanks,” she said, fingers already curling around your elbow and guiding you away.

Everything that happened from the front hall to the rooftop was forgotten before the next step was taken. People stopped Hayoung to greet her and asked who you were in confusion. You shouted your name at strangers, and they shouted theirs back, both ends pretending it would be something they would keep and remember for more than a couple of seconds. A woman pressed two bottles of soju into your palms, the only thing you would have truly appreciated in the meantime if they clearly hadn’t been opened and were already missing a few sips when she did. You preferred to abandon them somewhere within the stairs.

Hayoung opened the rooftop door, gesturing for you to go in first, and when you did, immediately Hongcheon’s summer shrouded you. The music became just an echo through your feet and the darkness of the interior was taken by string lights hanging on the wooden beans. You had to blink a few times to get used to it, and only then you saw Sunhae, that Jungwon guy of hers, and his friends — the four of them focused on a dartboard poorly placed in one of the beams.

Sunhae was the first one to notice you, running to your cousin and briefly hugging her before she turned to you.

“Hi, I am Sunhae,” she said, her tone so cheerful that it was difficult to not feel welcomed. “Hayoung’s roommate in the university dorms, but you probably know it.”

“I do,” you smiled. “I am Y/N.”

“Oh, I know,” Sunhae laughed. “But those guys probably don’t know you and you probably don’t know those guys.”

“The smallest black-haired one is Jungwon,” she started. However, she didn’t need to finish her sentence for you to know it — not only because the stranger at the front hall called Jungwon hers, but because as soon as her eyes landed on him, it glinted. The silliest yet most honest indication of being in love. “My boyfriend.”

“The silvered-haired one is—”

“I am Jake,” he said, turning to you and extending his hand. “Jungwon’s roommate in the university dorms.”

He seemed so eager to share his role in Jungwon’s life that you couldn’t help but laugh at it, soft and airy, allowing the sound to blend in with the breeze.

“Y/N,” you said, taking his hand and shaking it.

As you looked at the last of them, he was already watching you. And there’s no way it hadn’t been something crafted inside of your mind, but for a brief moment, time seemed to have stopped. Ranging a little bit so, many years later, when that night became just a memory of your youth days, you would still remember how despite the warm weather he wore a leather jacket, a plain black t-shirt, and a silver necklace that glinted almost as much as his eyes beneath the summer sky.

“I am Heeseung,” he said, moving his gaze at Jake for a brief second before he turned back to you, smiling. “I don’t think I have something special to state.”

His accent didn’t escape you. You had already noticed the difference between Seoul and Gangwon residents, the way people from the province rolled the vowels and cut the end of the phrases making it hastened, but if anything, it only made his voice warmer.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. Heeseung extended his hand at you. It was a little bit too late for the greeting but you took it anyway, allowing him to fold his fingers around yours.

“Are you good with darts?” he asked.

“Darts? I think I can make my way through it.”

“Great,” Heeseung said. “I don’t want to lose and Jake is terrible at it, so you are my new partner.”

When you didn’t oppose it, he used your connected hands to pull you to him, and suddenly he was so close and the air stuffy. He smelled like the summer nights, like the brisk breeze of the county, like peonies, but as well as the leather of his jacket, and something that you remembered from the day your father taught you how to drive, the smokey scent when you couldn’t pull the car up the hill and forced the engine to its maximum.

“Should we bet?” Sunhae suggested. “We always bet.”

“Drinks?”

“Boring,” she paused, just for a brief moment before her face lighted up as if she had been struck with a great idea. “The carnival always needs volunteers.”

“It doesn’t seem bad,” Hayoung said.

“To operate the tents, but the losing team should volunteer to wear the sheep costume and hand the flyers.”

You laughed at the absurd, and Heeseung’s eyes landed back on you again, his eyebrows lifted as amusement rushed through his face almost too fast to be noticed.

“Are you fine with this?” he asked.

“We aren’t going to lose, are we?” you asked instead, and his eyes glinted playfully at you.

“No.”

“So I am fine,”

“Do the honors, princess,” he said, extending one of the darts.

The nickname tingled through your body, making heat grow into your cheeks. Yet, Heeseung didn’t realize what he had said until a second later when your hand hung above the extended dart for a heartbeat more, but if anything, his smile widened.

Hayoung decided to be just a watcher together with Jake, making it you and Heeseung against Jungwon and Sunhae.

As the night went on and the party began to wind down on the floors below, you thought the bet had long been forgotten until Jake called everyone’s attention.

“Last round before we run out,” he announced. “Y/N has to score more than thirty points to have a direct win.”

“Excuse me? How much?” you demanded, making him laugh at your uneasiness.

“Thirty,” he repeated, enjoyment rushing through each pronounced letter. “or else you give an opportunity to Jungwon and Sunhae to win and Heeseung is wearing a sheep costume — not that I am hoping for it.”

You looked at Heeseung, uncertainties swaying your gaze. He hesitated only for a moment before he stepped behind you, one of his hands slightly resting on your waist as the other folded around your hand, positioning it.

“It’s her turn,” Jake protested.

“The dart is in her hand,” Heeseung replied with mischief.

Your head turned to him, drawing out a question. However, his breath brushed through your lips, the bitterness of the beer he had been drinking reaching through your tongue almost as if you were the one drinking it, and you allow it to slip and slide away, everything on you focusing on the small pressure of his fingertips on your skin.

“I am holding it for you,” he whispered, voice winding through your hair. Heeseung moved both of your hands, and you looked forward in time to see the dart sticking precisely at the center of the dartboard.

Jungwon screamed, abandoning the dart he wouldn’t have any opportunity to use on the table before he took Sunhae’s hand and rushed to the rooftop door. Jake laughed, following behind, and then you understood that it was their thing. Jake meant it when he said to run out. It was their way to leave and your chest ached to see this inner thing of theirs.

Hayoung stepped past you, a gentle smile traversing her lips before she as well rushed through the door, leaving it open for you and Heeseung.

There was a small pause, a small gap in time as he reached for the top of your head, threading his fingers through your hair as he gave a soft and quick pat.

“Thank you for saving me from the sheep costume,” he said, all mischief and teasing as he stepped back. You prepared yourself to hear him leaving too, the sound of his steps echoing together with the now turned-down music, but he didn’t walk away. Heeseung just stayed still, waiting for you to look at him so he could slightly tip his head at the door.

He led you downstairs, and when someone stumbled on you, he took your hand in his, pulling you close to him and shielding you from the party still going through the corridors until you are out into the warm summer night again. The stars hung so low in the sky, none of you really could tell if it was too late or too early.

“Can I drive you home?” he asked.

“With all due respect, I don’t trust drivers like you, Lee,” Hayoung interrupted. “And you have drunk too much, I am taking my cousin back home safely.”

“Fair,” Heeseung exhaled, looking at where your cousin stood. For an instant he faltered, his shoulders tightened as if he suddenly was carrying some weight. However, when he turned back to you, it was gone, he was smiling again. “Am I seeing you at the carnival?”

“Yes.”

His thumb brushed softly against the back of your hand before he let it go.

“Until then, princess.”

Hongcheon was unbelievably warmer than Seoul. The sun had long disappeared through the horizon, yet remnants of the summer heat still lingered in the breeze, caressing your skin with a certain overprotective tenderness as you stood in the middle of the carnival.

You immediately could tell the place had some story with the county. The food carts were old in a lovely way, the tint faded with the number of years of the sun setting on them.

Heeseung was the first one to notice you lagging behind, head turning to everything but the group. You had already collected your picture of Jungwon in sheep costume, but even as you did it, you seemed distracted.

His hand met your elbow, startling you for a second before you noticed it was him.

“Distract much?” he smiled. “Are you alright?”

You exhaled, and the Ferris wheel spilling its mechanical music together with the coin-toss machines stole the sound of it.

“Sunhae made fun of me when I said it.”

“Sunhae would make fun of the world’s end,” he said. “Tell me, what’s it?”

“I have never been to a carnival and my mouth is watering to taste those toffee apples.”

“Toffee apples?” Heeseung asked, but there was no judgment in his words. Although he kept his smile, he didn’t laugh like Sunhae, he didn’t murmur city people beneath his breath like Hayoung. Heeseung simply looked between you and the toffee apple cart, his eyebrow raised before he held his hand at you. “I would prefer you telling me you never had snow cones or corn hot dogs, but fine.”

“I have never tried those too,” you said, placing your hand in his.

“And never rode bumped cars or a carousel?”

“Never.”

“We should do it in the proper way then,” he said, slightly leaning into your direction. You brightened at it, and he knew even though it seemed like a silly program, there was nothing he should rather do tonight.

He guided you through the crowd, hand clasp against yours. The line for the toffee apples was small, but the bumper cars seemed enormous just like all the other attractions, and Heeseung started an ask game. You liked the way he did it. It was more that he genuinely wanted to know about you instead of the polite questions to prevent a conversation from ending. But only when you were on the top of the Ferris wheel, summer breeze musing your hair in a way only the county’s warmth could manage, did he break the question he wondered the most.

“You really never went to a carnival?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why so? There aren’t any carnivals in Seoul?”

“There are,” you said. “There was one in the same avenue of my middle school actually, it’s just a thing of mine. My parents never had much time to do those types of things when I was younger, they were just starting their business, and because of—”

“Well, I never had real friends during this period, they always wanted something from me. They invited themselves to my house, but it was because of the things I had and not because of me.”

“So somehow I was always too lonely to go. Of course, I had other friends during high school and I do have friends in University, but things are different,” you explained. “So yes, I never went to a carnival.”

When you finished, Heeseung had been silent for so long that you thought he had zoned out — leaving you to talk to the furor of the place.

But you looked at him, and he was there — staring at you with the oddest expression someone had ever turned on you. The deliberately unnerving, otherworldly stare that lasted several more seconds than was comfortable for two strangers who aren’t really strangers anymore, and your cheeks grew warmer. You were not sure why you decided to tell him about your life like this, you had met him just a few days previously. But it was summer, the season when people do things they would never think of, it was late at night, the world so warm that it felt safe to let secrets be spilled in the wind, and Heeseung — he felt safe too.

He leaned in, and his eyes flickered beneath the night, mischief glinting as if he wanted to tell you the most beautiful thing he had ever known.

“It sucks,” he said, however, and you laughed at this, head thrown back, the sound so carefree and soft it was impossible for him to not smile back at you.

He reached for the bar behind your shoulders, coming so close you didn’t only hear the next words, but you felt them rushing through your skin.

“But if you ever decide to binge all the attractions of a carnival again, or if you feel like doing anything you couldn’t — I am here,” he said, reaching for the top of your head, his fingers threaded through your hair as he gave the same soft and quick pat he did on the night of the party.

┈┈┈┈

There was something special about the night, an unfathomable pleasure in even the tiniest things.

By the time Heeseung and you left the Ferris wheels, the crowd was still far from thinning and the night far from giving away. Laughter filled every single gush of breeze together with the summer heat.

The only place left was the coin-toss machine to binge all the carnival attractions, and Heeseung immediately guided you there, fingers twinned on yours, he didn’t seem to want to let you go, and you didn’t mind it.

“How does it work?” you asked, taking him to the machine which caught your attention. It didn’t have a claw like the conventional ones, and the prizes stood on shelves — all of them way more expensive than stuffed animals.

“You select the number of the prize you want,” Heeseung explained. “Then you use the hammer to hit this handle here.”

He had to speak loudly for you to hear him beneath the sounds of the machines, something he thought to be inconvenient, so he inclined his head, his lips just centimeters apart from your ear before he continued.

“Based on the strength you used it will give you a number, if it’s the same number as the prize you selected, you win.”

“Seems rigged,” you said, turning to look at him. “But I want to try.”

Heeseung stared down at you, amused eyes shining beneath the colorful lights from the toss-coin machines.

“Ok,” he exhaled. “What prize do you want?”

“The analog camera,” you said, a single finger prodding the smudged plexiglass.

Heeseung was fast on taking off a coin from the pocket of his jeans, tossing it inside the machine and allowing it to glow, the music turning even louder. You watched as he fumbled through the buttons, putting in the number for the analog camera.

“Do the honors, princess,” he said, handing you the hammer.

However, when you hit the handle the number landed far from the desired one. Your lips curled in discontentment, and although Heeseung thought your expression was the cutest thing he had seen during his twenty-four years of living, there was a certain urge in him to make it disappear.

“Let me try,” he said, taking his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and putting a few of the spare coins he had in.

You handed him the hammer a second before the machine shone again, the mechanical music turning a bit louder to indicate it was ready for another failed try.

“Definitely rigged,” he exhaled. But again and again, Heeseung seized the wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, counted his coins, and inserted it in the machine. On the fourth time, he got tired of the whole process and simply asked you to hold the wallet for him.

Two couples waited behind and you smiled apologetically at them before you turned back at Heeseung.

“Heeseung, it’s ok — it’s forming a line.”

It was the first time you had ever said his name, and it caught him off guard. Not only because of your accent, but coming from your lips, it sounded soft and slow, almost as if you had stolen it and made it all yours.

“One more time,” he asked. “Just one more time.”

When he hit the handle again, you inclined yourself to his side, an innocent act for a better view of the changing numbers, but suddenly you were so close, and your perfume attained so strongly on his lungs that it felt more intimate than it. For a few seconds, Heeseung stayed still, unconsciously allowing his thoughts to slip away as he remained, once again, completely lost in the sense of you.

At the party, he thought you smelled like sunlight, like the spring flowers, and everything about warmth, but no, it was sweeter than that. Like sugar in the air, like a promise.

Your breath brushed through the exposed skin of his neck, leaving goosebumps on its wake and he barely noticed the numbers moving and reaching the exact digit for the analog camera.

“You did it.” you gasped, your hand reaching for his almost unconsciously. “Oh my, you did it.”

His gaze fell over you and he smiled — truly smiled. Heeseung grinned like a boy. The innocent act reflected through his eyes for a moment before he bent in and took the camera box and extended it for you.

“You should keep it,” you said. “It was all your perseverance.”

“It’s yours,” he replied. His delight was almost palpable.

“Come on,” one of the women behind said. “Take that box and give your boyfriend a thank you kiss.”

She had the same hasted accent as the Gangwon’s residents, and it took you a heartbeat longer to make sense of what she had said, but when you did, you immediately could feel the heat growing into your cheeks.

“He is not— he is not my—” you started, looking back at Heeseung, but he only held your gaze steadily. His eyes still sparkling with the echoes of his laugh and you let everything go with a single hitch of breath.

He reached for your hand again, the gesture already rushing through your skin with a familiarity that made your heart ache. He guided you away from the machines, yet the furor of the place was still high and wild, almost muffing his question when it finally came out.

“Can I kiss you?”

Heeseung didn’t seem the type of person to falter easily, but you could swear he was on the verge of it. He moved continuously through your silence, fingers tickling on yours, a shoulder twitched. He shook his head, just slightly, as if he was fixing his bangs, but it was just an attempt to hide the shyness in him.

You didn’t notice you had been holding your breath until a second later, when you felt your lungs loosening with the single word of confirmation you managed to utter.

You looked up at him and the carnival lights gilded your skin, holding you so preciously beneath the dark sky that Heeseung started to have second thoughts.

The moment seemed to take forever, it seemed to take no time at all. Your simple yes unfolded within the summer breeze slowly, blending together with the echoes of the night as he leaned in, reaching for you — his lips hovered just a few inches from yours as if he was checking if you would regret and move away. However, when you didn’t, he kissed you, his lips touching yours just for a second.

Heeseung pulled back, and the glittering carnival dazed both of you. Everything about the place invaded your senses for a quiet moment before he leaned in and kissed you again, this time with more feelings than thoughts. He slid a hand behind your neck, angling your head up and making your lips part for him.

Of course, you had been kissed before. However, never that way. Heeseung wanted to relish it, feeling you through each passing second of your connected lips. He did not want to let it go, memorizing you through each heartbeat as he just grazed his mouth against yours, catching his breath before he kissed you again and again.

You felt a laugh forming in the deep of your chest, but when it rolled out of your lips, preventing Heeseung from kissing you, he wasn’t annoyed at it. He just laughed back at you and you were so lost on him, and in the sound of it, that it took you a while to notice it was the very first time you were hearing him do such a thing.

“Can I drive you home?” he asked. “I promise I haven’t drank anything today.”

┈┈┈┈

The first time you had ever seen a BMW coupé had been during the summer of your first year in high school. Your father had thought it was a nice thing to take you and your mother to a car show, or perhaps he just wanted to go and pretended to genuinely think it was a nice plan. Anyway, you still remember how he followed the air around the car with the palm of his hands, the closed roof, and the fine lines of the only two doors of the gray BMW before turning to you.

“Should I buy it?” he had asked, making your mother grunt. It was a playboy’s car from her point of view, made for trouble and disorder.

And that was exactly Heeseung’s car.

The BMW M4 had been parked outside the carnival field, the street lamp sparkling through the black tint of the car. You manage to control your laugh for most of the way to your rented house, but when Heeseung stopped at a traffic light, the roar of the engine being the only audible thing through the night you couldn’t help but let it escape.

“What’s this?” Heeseung asked, slightly turning to look at you. The red light turned his hair copper, and maybe it had been because you are still high on sugar and him, maybe it had been because you had already shared too much with Heeseung, but you told him about that summer afternoon too.

“So you are telling me, your mother wouldn’t approve me?” he asked, a hint of tease in his tone. You doubted Heeseung worried about what your mother would think seeing him park the BMW in front of the house, yet still, your mind faltered.

“I-” you started.

But you were saved by a car coming beside the BMW. The sudden sound of tires squealing stormed through the once quiet street, but instead of pulling and staying still, the car kept shooting forward and falling back.

“What’s he doing?” you asked.

Heeseung didn’t reply to you, his hand had tensed above the gear stick, and he looked away, ahead to the road.

When the traffic lights turned green the other car blew by, a flash of white paint in the middle of the night.

“He wanted to incite a race,” Heeseung whispered. Your lips parted, not sure if it was for a genuine surprise or if your subconscious meant to say something, but Heeseung seemed unnerved and you let it slip and slide as he drove away.

┈┈┈┈

“Heeseung?” you called, in the same soft way, allowing it to echo through the interior of the BMW. He looked at you, just for a second taking in how your eyes were squinting as you looked through the lens at him before the analog camera flash came off.

“Do you know how to use it?”

“I hope so,” you said. “Imagine me using the whole film to find out I did it wrongly.”

Heeseung hummed at that, the sound coming so softly. He had parked in front of your rented house for minutes now, but you didn’t attempt to leave and he didn’t attempt to make you do.

“Thank you for tonight, and the camera,” you said.

Heeseung could feel the way the night was ending without a single promise of tomorrow. A full period instead of a break, and he disliked the thought.

“I want to see you again,” he whispered.

“I want you to see me again too.”

A laugh escaped from his lips, unintentionally too happy as he reached for his phone on the console and handed it to you. You took it without a second thought, typing away your number and when you handed it back to him, you leaned in, catching his bottom lips with yours. It wasn’t the same kiss he had given you in the carnival, lips touching just for a bare second — it was longer yet just teasing, before Heeseung could hold you, you had gone. You had slipped out of his reach and his car, rushing through the garden of the house and the front porch.

Heeseung couldn’t help but laugh at your doing, tilting his head at the window, he looked up at the sky. At Hongcheon there were never enough streetlights to obliterate the stars completely, and for the first time in a long while, his breath came easily beneath all of this.

Heeseung had been a stranger on that first night of summer. He had been a confidante at the carnival. However, you had no idea who he was on the streets.

This part of Hongcheon was endlessly flat in comparison to the rest of the county. Meanwhile where you have been taking residence was built in the middle of emerald hills, this place was spread out over flat and dried fields.

You were aware it was somewhere at the outskirts of the county, so you weren’t surprised when the modest avenue ended on a highway. What surprised you was that instead of the normal traffic, a line of cars had been parked on the sides, their noses pointing at the middle of the highway, headlights illuminating what the streetlights couldn’t.

People circulated everywhere — around the cars, above the cars. Their cheers seemed to pierce through the closed windows.

For some long seconds, you thought Sunhae had indicated the wrong turn and Hayoung would make her way back through the road. But instead, she kept going, finding a place to park in the long line.

A few meters ahead two cars loomed, their speeds being nowhere near the legal limits as they passed by you and drifted a few meters ahead, tires squealing and leaving angry marks on the asphalt.

“What—” You started with an exasperated slowness. “Is this?”

“An illegal race?” Sunhae replied.

“And what are we doing here?”

Hayoung and Sunhae exchanged a knowing look above the gearshift, and no one needed to be a genius to know they were silently talking with each other.

“We came to watch?” Sunhae said. It had been an affirmation, but the way her voice raised at the end subtly turned the period into a question mark.

You felt your body turning cold. It wasn’t like you had prepared yourself to watch a street race when you had woken up that morning. It wasn’t like you had prepared yourself to participate in something illegal when you entered Hayoung’s car that night. She had messaged you telling you to be ready at nine and that was simply what you had done. Pretty dress, high heels, and pins on your hair.

As if she thought about the same thing, your cousin met your gaze through the rearview mirror.

“I can take you home,” she said.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, and although it carried all your uncertainty, it was enough to make them both leave after a single harsh breath, gathering in front of the car’s hood.

“Jungwon— he casually races,” Sunhae said as you joined them. It was so loud outside that she had to incline herself to speak to you. “Jake too, so you know—”

Hayoung slapped her arm to shut her up. However, you had already seen him, or rather his car — the black BMW spun through the highway, raising a trail of smoke before it lushly parked along the cars at what you judged to be the starting line.

Your breath shuddered out of you. The breeze subtly echoed beneath all the noises as Heeseung climbed out of the car and joined Jake and Jungwon in the small circle of racers.

There was something unfamiliar about him — something ferocious, noisy, and unsettled. This wasn’t the Heeseung you had met at the party, much less the Heeseung who had led you through the carnival with his hand curled on yours. This was the Heeseung who fit the BMW, the leather jacket, and the mischievous grin. This was a Heeseung you weren’t sure you knew who he was.

Heeseung had been smiling at everyone, but he faltered when he spotted you. He had this inconvenient feeling that he had stopped in time. His surroundings kept going, blistering in the loud engines and cheers, but he was stuck on how you were there, suddenly seeing this tainted part of him.

He didn’t remember taking the decision to move. He only knew he did, giving one step in your direction before Jake held his arm.

“Later,” he said, like a reminder. And Heeseung forced himself to retract, to place his bet along with the rest of the racers, forcing himself to hear about the course he knew all too well. He forced himself to walk to his BMW and turn the key.

He eased his foot off the clutch, pressing down on the gas he managed to hold the car in check. The engine was alive beneath him, the sound quelling his heartbeats as he reached for the gear stick. He closed his eyes at the familiarity of the moment, but as soon as the darkness welcomed him, you were there again — burning like sunlight.

He turned his focus back to the streets in time to see the light switching, the red turning into green and without any prelude, the car burst from the starting line. The street lights flickered and flared above him.

Heeseung knew this place well enough to not need to think before exchanging the gears, he just kept in mind he needed to come back faster than ever.

┈┈┈┈

“I will take the awkward exchange of looks as a confirmation that Heeseung didn’t tell you about all of this,” Hayoung said, taking your attention from the highway ahead. The racing cars had already disappeared into the distance, leaving only the idea of the memory behind.

“He didn’t,” you admitted. “It’s not something you can say to someone you don’t know, right?”

“Well, I agree,” she said. “But you are my cousin, he knows me, and he has stuck on you since the party, he should have—”

“It’s alright,” you replied.

You knew Hayoung wasn’t the type of person to give up easily on a discussion, so the moment she opened her mouth to say something more, you turned away, taking in the furor of the place. The cheers had eased, for a great part, but everything was so loud still with the sound of those car’s engines.

“How long does it take?” you asked.

“Not much, they just take the next return and come back here.”

It didn’t take long at all.

The familiar BMW was the first one to pass the finish line. However, Heeseung didn’t slow, he didn’t even look back as he won the race. His car only came to a full stop once he was in front of you — the driver’s door being hardly pushed as the headlights kept flickering through the night.

“Please, let’s talk,” he said, his gaze meeting you as if there were no one else in his eyes sight.

Hayoung reached for you, squeezing your arms as if she was attempting to give you assurance.

“It’s fine,” you said, meeting her gaze. “Sunhae is probably staying with Jungwon, are you alright with driving back alone?”

“Of course,” she replied. “I came thinking it was how my night was ending,”

“Just fasten your seatbelt, and hold on tight, I still don’t trust them on a wheel.”

When you turned back at Heeseung, he had already walked toward you, causing you to bump into him. His hands immediately found your waist, preventing you from tripping. But even as you stood completely still, he continued holding you, his fingers coming up and down through the bodice of your dress.

“Princess,” he said. It almost didn’t sound like a call, but a plea. A longing where it was supposed to have just the tease you were already used to.

“Alright, let’s talk.”

Heeseung guided you to his car, one of his hands sliding to the small of your back as he opened the passenger door for you, waiting for you to slip in before he closed it with a soft slam.

The drive was surprisingly quiet. Heeseung hadn’t spoken the whole way back, he just stayed there — occasionally brushing his gaze towards you as if with a single moment he hadn’t checked on you, you would disappear without a trace. Only when you had reached the town did he speak, but it had been so soft it almost got lost in the breeze before you could even clasp them.

“Is it ok if I take you further into the hills?”

“Yes, of course.”

Heeseung drove into the hills, passing the entrance to your rented house without a second look and going further onto bendy roads that all of a sudden spread on an open field. The town shone beyond it all.

“A few years ago they were going to build a dozen houses like your rented one,” he said, stepping on the parking brake. “They prepared the field but for some reason, they gave up on it.”

“I come here with Jake and Jungwon a lot to — race.”

And that was it, the breaking word.

Heeseung slid his hands through the wheel, slowly bringing them into his lap before he decided to rest it above the gear stick.

“I am not used to telling people about it.”

“I can understand why, genuinely” you said. “So you don’t have to tell me anything that you aren’t comfortable with.”

“I wanted to,” he said. “At the party, I thought of asking if you wanted to go watch the race. At the carnival, I thought of telling you,”

“But you are so—” his gaze encountered you, taking in your whole being before he stopped, letting the words slip and slid away with a single hitch of breath. He couldn’t simply tell he thought you shone like a heart of gold. It was foolish, cringe even. So Heeseung stayed silent, turning back to the town and watching it spread beyond both of you, the interlocked pattern of colored lights.

It made a strange image of him, he seemed so grandiose mirroring all those lights that it somehow made him frail. And it suddenly occurred to you how Heeseung was good at only allowing people to see what he wanted them to. He wanted everyone to see him as confident, bright — ferocious during the races and you wondered what it meant that he allowed you to see through the fissures.

His shoulders tightened as if he suddenly was carrying some weight — whatever he was about to tell you, it was something he had been keeping for himself for years.

You reached for him, palm resting above the back of his hand on the gear stick.

“My parents studied their whole lives together,” Heeseung started, the words leaving his lips clumsy and strangely by the unused of being said. “They started dating during high school and my mother got pregnant not long after their graduation. But there was the thing — they are too young and my mother knew it.”

“Although she tried to endure it, someday she simply couldn’t anymore and left.”

You hadn’t noticed your grip above his hand had tightened until you felt Heeseung shifting beneath your touch, turning his palm to you and slowly interlacing your fingers.

“I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright, honestly,” he replied. “It’s not like I remember much of her — and I grew up well with my grandma and father.”

“A few years ago, my father got really sick — after his funeral, I took his car, it was such an old Toyota. I bet it was the first time it ever really raced,” he smiled, but there was an ache in it, a sadness that you could almost reach. He looked at you again, as defenseless he had ever been. “I found the street racing spot by accident. But they said I was good and I kept going.”

“First it was for freedom, but the money became a great necessity after a few months — my grandma couldn’t work, I had to give up on the university.”

“You did what you could,” you whispered. “It’s alright, Heeseung.”

The moment seemed to stretch, seconds feeling like minutes and when you lifted your interlaced hands to your lips, kissing the back of Heeseung’s hand, you didn’t know how long had passed.

“Do you want to race right now?”

“I do.”

“Take me somewhere?” you asked.

┈┈┈┈

When the BMW reached the town’s outskirts, Heeseung allowed the car to climb in speed, his hand curling familiarly around the gear stick. He never took his eyes off the road, and you saw on his face how much he loved it. The bright and long-acquainted happiness he had with the speed.

Your heart quelled every time Heeseung did a turn, and he reached out, letting go of the wheel and searching for you through the small inches in between.

“I am here,” he said. You pinch his fingers lightly because you knew — and it made the whole difference.

Heeseung only dropped down a few gears near the edges of the county, being caught on the invisible line separating the road from the beach.

You opened the window, allowing a gust of summer air to spread through the car as a laugh escaped from you, unhesitating and unselfconscious. The sky was impossibly clean tonight, making the sea an endless reflection of the stars.

You didn’t ask Heeseung to stop — you didn’t need to. The moment he looked at you, taking a glimpse of your sparkling eyes, and lips tugging with the echoes of your laughter, he just knew it was the right thing to do.

You leaped from the BMW before Heeseung had even turned the engine off, already barefoot and rushing through the white sand as his phone chimed at the console. His grandma probably, Jake or Jungwon, there was no one else, but the problem with having so few people in his life was that he had to pick up.

“Summer is indeed the best season,” Jake said at the other end of the line. “I got the money for you,”

“Do you have any idea how much you made tonight? I am blasted.”

“You said it last week when Daekho exposed how much he got,” Heeseung pointed out, a soft chuckle escaping from him.

“Trust me this time,” Jake said. “I am genuinely blasted. But talking about Daekho, he said he saw you a few nights ago, and you turned down a race — you never turn down a race.”

The sound of your laugh echoed through the night, causing Heeseung to raise his head to you and the view suddenly made him stop, phone still on his ear, mind in the middle of a phrase he would never say.

The moon was barely a quarter of what it could be, but it stood high and bright in the sky, bathing you as if you were something so precious that it decided to shine a little bit more just because of you.

You had walked into the sea, the water hitting your thighs, damping the hem of your dress. The camera he had won for you in the carnival was in your hands pointed at the satellite, and he wondered if you were taking it everywhere. It was something so simple, but it brought a warm sense inside of him.

As if you had felt his burning gaze over you, you turned to him, meeting his gaze through the windshield.

You were already painfully beautiful like this, but the moment you smiled at him — something stirred and moved inside of him.

“Hee?” Jake called by the other end of the line.

“It was on the night of the carnival, Y/N was with me,” he replied. “Jake, listen, I have to hang up, I will call you tomorrow.”

“Are you still with Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Oh! Have fun, mate.”

Heeseung threw the phone back into the console, taking off his shoes, he followed you down the shore and into the sea, splashing farther into the water until his jeans were damped to his knees.

“Your jeans,” you gasped, but he only shook his head, he could care less about it.

“Are you carrying it everywhere?” he asked. He wasn’t looking at the camera, yet something incited that everything about his actions was about the small object now hanging by the security strip on your wrist.

“Yes.”

For a long and unsettled moment, Heeseung stared at you, his chest heaving with his deep breaths. He took one more step to reach you and suddenly, he was so close and the night so still. All you could feel was the calm rhythm of the sea beneath your feet, the soft hustle of his breath against your skin before a cold wind blew through, sweeping your hair out of the pins and to his cheeks, causing him to lift his hand, twisting the loosened lock between his fingertips before he brushed it behind your ear. It was a ridiculous thing to do. The wind kept blowing through and loosening it, but he didn’t mind doing it again and again. Until he decided to simply hold it, palm resting against your cheek as his fingers twined on your hair.

Heeseung called for you, and your skin tingled beneath the moonlight. No one ever said your name like he did — so slow and deliberate as if he wanted to taste the sound of each letter rolling through his tongue.

You couldn’t help but lean yourself into him, fingertips against his abdomen as you caught his bottom lip with yours. It wasn’t the first time you had given him this soft, teasing, and too-quick kiss. In fact, Heeseung already considered it something of yours, and he had scrutinized this so many times that his hand was fast on moving further into your hair, holding you still.

“I am not letting you slip away tonight,” he whispered.

“I would never,” you huffed. And Heeseung laughed at that, the sound blending with the summer breeze for a short moment before his lips slid over yours easily, perhaps too easily.

When he kissed you at the carnival, there was something of searching and discovering on it, but here — with his thumb caressing the sides of your neck, and your fingers slipping precisely to where his heart thrummed against his chest, it was all knowing. His tongue brushed against your lips, and you opened your mouth for him, letting him slide his tongue over yours. You could feel him groaning, his whole body reacting when you curled your fingers on his t-shirt.

You gasped for air, pulling away. But, Heeseung was still leaning in, eyes closed, lips parted as he followed you through the few inches you created.

“Princess,” he called. “I thought you were not slipping away.”

“Sorry,” you said. However, Heeseung just shook his head in reply, a mischievous grin spreading through his lips as he brought your face back to him, but instead of catching your lips again, he pestered you with quick kisses all over your face.

You laughed, not sure if it was because of his doings or the ticklish feeling of his lips smoothing your whole face. But even to your own ears, you sounded so happy — so happy beneath all of this.

As the night wore on, the temperature dropped and you shivered in the cold, immediately causing Heeseung to shrug his leather jacket off, draping around your shoulders and adjusting it the best way he could despite the difference of size.

It smelled like him. The strong scent of leather blended with car exhaustion, but also the sweet scent of peonies and the brisk breezes of summer nights.

“We should go back,” he said, looking up at the sky. The stars were already starting to low, weakly gleaming through his eyes. “It’s late anyway.”

┈┈┈┈

“The princess is back in her castle,” Heeseung said, making a chuckle escape from your lips.

However, instead of finding something to reply, you simply reached for your seatbelt, unfastening it a second before your hands curled at the sleeve of his jacket, starting to pull it away.

“It’s alright, give me back another day,” he said.

“Alright,” you whispered. “Thank you for driving me home again — I hope it isn’t out of the way for you.”

“I could lie and say you are worth the trouble just to sound like a nice guy,” Heeseung started, the corner of his lips tugging up. He was fighting a battle with a smile and almost losing it. “I live two streets down from here, a beige house with a brown roof and matching shutters.”

“It seems pretty much like most Hongcheon’s houses,” you replied, slightly leaning to his side of the car, and Heeseung reached for you promptly.

The porch lights were on, gently illuminating your face with little strips of gold. He traced each one of them with the tip of his fingers before he finally gave in and smiled. You were so beautiful, he could die all day and every night just to miss you.

“You are right, but there are remarkable things about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Heeseung echoed. “You will always hear a culinary program coming from the TV, it will be my grandma in the living room, and the place always smells like something just baked — it is also her.”

“Seems cozy.”

“Also, the garden is full of white flowers — really easy to find,” he continued. “But in any case, the number is two hundred fifteen.”

Just like the whole town, Heeseung’s house was a remnant from the eighties — with its pale walls, brown roof, and matching shutters, it blended in with all the other houses on the street. But as Heeseung described, the house sat in the middle of a garden, the white flowers accompanying you through the whole path from the sidewalk to the front porch.

The door opened at your first knock, quickly revealing an old lady. It wasn’t necessary to wonder about her — not only because you knew Heeseung lived with his grandmother, but because her appearance was uncannily like his. Although she carried some signs of age on her gray hair, the shiny doe-eyes peering through the curls were there, seeming to be a family thing.

“Good afternoon,” you started, a tentative smile tugging on your lips as you looked at her. “I am Y/N, Heeseung’s-”

“Heeseung!” His grandmother screamed, startling you. “Why there’s such a pretty girl asking for you at my front door?”

Heeseung appeared at the end of the corridor, eyebrows furrowed. He seemed as braced as anyone could be standing barefoot in washed jeans and a white tank top — until his eyes landed on you.

“Y/N,” he called, pronouncing your name with the same deliberate slowness he had on the previous night and making your skin tingle.

In your periphery, Heeseung’s grandmother drifted her gaze between both of you, taking in how Heeseung reached from across the corridor — with his expression smoothed, his eyes were allowed gleam beneath the sunlight and his lips to tug into a smile too genuine to be only politeness.

When he reached the door, she turned around, leaning to his side as if she was about to whisper a great secret to her grandson, but instead, her words were spoken loud enough for both of you to hear.

“Invite her inside,” she said, walking away and leaving both of you a little bit astonished.

“I just came to bring your jacket, I don’t want to bother you.”

“You would never,” he answered. His fingers curled around the door handle, opening it a little wider as he completely ignored how you had extended the jacket at him. But although his actions seemed confident, he slightly inclined his head, shaking it as if to fix his bangs, but you had already seen it enough to know, he was embarrassed.

You brought the jacket back to your chest, hugging it as you stepped inside. Immediately, the comfortable smell of chocolate surrounded the air. Heeseung wasn’t lying when he told you about the never stopping oven, just like he wasn’t lying about the culinary program always on the selected channel of the television. But you wished he had told you about everything else too, so at least, you wouldn’t be so surprised right now.

You had grown up with a meticulous amount of order. The houses you lived in were always spacious, squeaked clean, minimalist even, so you didn’t know how to react as soon as you caught sight of the inside.

It was tiny, even if taken in comparison to the row houses on the outskirts of the county, and was made even smaller with the amount of plants scattered through the corners.

Afternoon sunlight spilled from the back windows of the kitchen, batching everything until it reached the entrance corridor. You couldn’t tell if the warmth came solely from the sun or if it had something to do with the beige walls, the mismatched colorful furniture, and the small chaos only houses built with love are capable of possessing.

Everything felt so cozy and summer-made that you couldn’t imagine a better place to spend the season in.

“Princess,” he called, and you hummed, turning to look at him. However, Heeseung was already bending on a knee, fingers fumbling through the straps of your high heels and removing them, one at a time.

“Now you are ready to go.”

“Thank you.”

Heeseung stood up, bottling out the sunlight with his real height, casting you in the shadow. And if it wasn’t enough to make you coil, the way he reached for you, hands cupping the sides of your neck was.

“You are good at reading between the lines,” he said.

“Am I? Or had you been just insistent?” you asked, making a chuckle escape from Heeseung. It was a soft, almost not there thing, but you could feel it rushing through your cheeks, the hustle of his breaths warming your skin.

Heeseung leaned in, catching your lips with his. It wasn’t his intention to make it fast, but the moment his grip tightened on your skin trying to bring you closer to him, his grandma screamed again, demanding both of you to come to the kitchen.

┈┈┈┈

The kitchen felt fuller than ever — not that it was a difficult thing, just like the whole house, it was tiny, scarcely giving enough space to three people to walk through, but there was something about having you there that made it full in a different way.

You were polite enough to ask if his grandmother needed help, and his grandmother was amusing enough to allow you, leaving Heeseung to watch from the kitchen table as you learned how to prepare a chocolate tart with an unreasoning smile.

“When Heeseung was younger, chocolate tarts with strawberries were his favorite,” his grandmother told you. “He always asked how would he leave me if I am the only one who knows how to prepare it in the way he likes,”

“But now that I am teaching you, he may leave me and go with you.” she finished, causing Heeseung to choke on the air. However, you only laughed at it, head thrown back. The sun had started to set by that time, sprinkling through the windows in tones of orange and pink, but when it reached you — it was all gold.

He knew his grandmother had said something else, but it sounded a world apart from where he stood. You had looked at him, your laughter had turned into a soft smile and it suddenly made him comprehend why the kitchen felt fuller than ever.

You not only materially filled the place, but you also filled it with warmth and light.

“Hee?” his grandmother called. He hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation for some time now and before he could state it, the house phone rang, saving him from another embarrassment.

He stood up, walking out of the kitchen as you both were just making sense of the phone ringing.

“You and Y/N have mobile phones, you know it, right?” Jungwon asked at the other end of the line.

“What?”

“Y/N was supposed to meet Sunhae and Hayoung in the drive-in cinema, she hasn’t shown up and is not picking up the phone.”

“And how did you figure she is with me?” Heeseung asked, his eyebrows involuntarily furrowing in confusion.

“You didn’t pick up when I called too,” Jungwon sighed. “Just tell her that the girls are waiting inside.”

Jungwon hung up so softly, it took another second for Heeseung to notice he did and another one to let go of it.

“I didn’t realize the time,” you explained, as soon as he was back.

“I can drive you there,” Heeseung said.

“Do you need to leave?” his grandmother asked. “Already?”

“I am supposed to meet my cousin and her friend.”

“It is a shame that it was so fast, but it was lovely to meet you,” his grandmother said, taking your hands in hers. “Please — please, come back.”

Although the moment seemed to be crafted in the warmth of the summer sunset, there was something frantic about the way she was holding you. Heeseung’s grandmother squeezed your hands almost as if she didn’t want you to walk away from her house — almost as if she was afraid you were taking something important together with you. And it took you anew.

You looked at Heeseung in search of answers, but he just returned your gaze as confused as you.

“She surely will, grandma,” Heeseung said, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. However, it only made her squeeze tighten on you, just for a brief second before she let you go.

┈┈┈┈

By the time Heeseung parked the BMW on the outskirts of the drive-in cinema, the movie had already started, Rachel McAdams dancing beneath the street lights with Ryan Gosling on the big screen. And even though you knew you were late, you stayed still, watching as the scene unfolded.

People had different favorite scenes of The Notebook, the kiss in the rain, perhaps the beach when they said the famous If you are a bird, I am a bird. However, for you, it always had been this one — the real beginning of everything.

Heeseung looked at you, but he didn’t say anything about you being late, and how your cousin was annoyed somewhere inside, if anything he reached for the space behind his seat, taking the same leather jacket you had left in one of his kitchen chairs a few hours previous, and put it on your lap.

“The temperature always drops during the night,” he explained.

“I just gave it back to you.”

“Give it back to me another day.”

You looked up at him, and he smiled. The words had left his lips effectively, even with a note of tease on it, but still carrying a real meaning, Heeseung wanted to see you again tomorrow. And because you wanted to see him again too, you nodded, slipping the jacket through your shoulders.

“Alright,” you agreed.

“Alright?” he echoed, leaning across the gearshift. Heeseung reached for you, his lips finding yours at the same time his fingertips pressed to the side of your neck. You tasted like chocolate and strawberries that night, the sweet delation you had been stealing the ingredients while preparing the tart, and he couldn’t help but smile.

If the whole afternoon hadn’t been homey enough, this — this kiss had been.

“I should go,” you whispered, drawing back, yet you were so close to him still, each word had been a brush against his lips.

“I know,” he replied, with a small sigh. Heeseung was reluctant to pull himself away, but he did, letting you slip from the BMW and walk into the cinema.

You tightened his jacket around your body, tugging the collar up to your mouth. His scent was already starting to fade in, giving space to yours, only when you snuggled your nose on, you could feel the odd combination that Heeseung was. All mischief and sweet, all substantial and soft.

A nearby car left the windows open, the radio connected to the big screen loud and allowing you to hear the exact moment Gena Rowlands asked James Garner:

“Did they fall in love?”

“Yes, they did,” he replied.

Saturday’s nights smelled like car exhaustion and burnt tires, like the leather of Heeseung’s jacket and his peony perfume when he brought you closer to him, lips against yours, fingers threading on your hair. Saturday’s nights were the break of the perfect serenity of Hongcheon, the whispers of the emerald hills turning into the loud sound of the racing cars beneath the street lights.

Heeseung had never missed a race, leaving you behind with Sunhae, Hayoung, and a kiss.

“Be my lucky charm once more, alright?” he always whispered, an amusing smile playing on his lips before you both broke into a laugh.

However, tonight he parked his BMW on the sides of the highway, joining the long line of watchers instead of racers. Heeseung didn’t say anything as he slipped through his door, leaving you to sit still, watching him walking to your side of the car in confusion — on any other night he would open the door for you, intertwine your finger, and take you to where Hayoung and Sunhae waited. But with all the unknown turns, he took you to the front of his car.

He sat on the hood, and it was necessary just an exchange of gazes for him to bring you to his lap. His arms came around your waist, coaxing you to come closer enough to feel his breaths rushing through your skin.

“Are you alright?” you asked. “You always race.”

“Jake and Jungwon had made a bet among themselves, they said I couldn’t join because I win way too much,” he said, leaning on you, his forehead meeting your temple. “Apparently, since I got my lucky charm, I am not letting them have the first place.”

You knew it was just a lie — a tease, Heeseung was one of the favorites before you had even stepped on Hongcheon, but you let him, brushing his nose down to your neck and tickling you with his breath.

A few meters behind, in the middle of the highway, the racers were already in their places, the engines roaring as they held the cars in check. Jungwon had his hand out, pointing at Jake through the opened windows as if to remind him of their secondary bet. If you focused enough, you could almost hear them laughing beneath the furor of the place.

“Did you meet them here?” you asked. “Jake and Jungwon?”

“No, we met at the university,” Heeseung said. “When I dropped out, I think they thought I was slipping away, so they started coming back during weekends to visit, and when I told them about the racing they decided to join,”

“Something for us three to do still.”

“They are good friends.”

“They are,” he agreed. His tone was calm, with the same warmth you were used to, but you could pinch the small longing it carried. Everything Heeseung had given away after his father’s death weighed on him still. You reached for him, fingers spreading beneath the collar of his jacket and t-shirt, finding his bare skin. He shivered at your touch, snuggling his nose a little deeper into you.

“I am very lucky,” Heeseung whispered. “About everyone I have in my life.”

“They are lucky to have you too.”

“Do you think so?”

“I am sure so,” you said, and you didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling at it.

┈┈┈┈

Through the weeks you had watched the races, you had never seen Jake win, and perhaps that’s why his reaction had been so amusing to you.

His Camaro squealed through the asphalt, passing the finish line with a lush drift before he came to where you stood together with Heeseung, hurling his window open.

“Let’s go,” he shouted.

“Where?” Heeseung asked.

“Beneath a bridge? The bar? I don’t care!” Jake exclaimed, quickly stealing a laugh from you. “I won and Jungwon is paying for everything tonight!”

The Camaro wailed with no previous warning, disappearing through the highway in a flash and leaving no further choice aside from following him.

The bar made a home on the outskirts of Hongcheon, coming so close to the coast that even at night, you could see how sunlight and bracing breezes had worked on this part of the province.

It held no signs, no shining lights, the facade had nothing but a worn-out red tint and a black door. It simply was called the bar because —

“What else do you call a bar without a name?” Heeseung asked, opening the door for you.

You knew it had to have a name, but instead of debating you allowed it to slip away with a single shake of your head before you stepped past him.

The interior was darker, blasting in some electronic music, and although there were just a few tables, this late at night people were already too high to prefer to sit still instead of being on the dance floor, leaving a bunch of options for you.

Hayoung sprawled herself on the nearest chair, immediately being followed by Sunhae and Jake.

“I am getting the drinks,” Jungwon announced. “Is everyone getting beer?”

“A coke,” Heeseung said. It didn’t require explanations, but he did anyway, shouting above the loud music. “I have to drive Y/N home.”

“OK, lover boy,” Jake laughed. “Why don’t you help Jungwon get everything?”

With his ears tingling, Heeseung was too embarrassed by the nickname and the situation to oppose, so he just turned around, following Jungwon through the furor of the place.

Jake waited until both of them were far, and completely out of sight before he stood up, just to claim the chair by your side.

“You bewitched him,” he said. “Have been ages since I last saw him like this.”

“Like this?” you echoed.

“I have known Heeseung for four years and something now, so I can tell after his father’s death, smiling and chuckling around — it simply wasn’t him,”

“Also not drinking because he has to drive?” Jake laughed, this time so loudly, you could swear it somehow echoed through the place. “He never once cared about it and by never I mean even before his father,”

“Believe me, Y/N, whatever spell you put on the man — you saved him.”

You blinked at Jake, not knowing what to say. And before you could think about it, Sunhae’s hand met yours from beneath the table, taking your attention.

“I love this song,” she said, dragging you through the crowd and into the dance floor. Everything happened so fast, a lost breath between what Jake had said, Sunhae’s hands clasped on yours, and Hayoung’s laugh because for once she wasn’t the one being forced to the dance.

Sunhae encouraged you too. However, your eyes kept traveling to the table, waiting for Heeseung to come back, to notice your absence and search for you.

You looked at each for seconds too long, his eyes lingering, hands caught in the middle of scattering the drinks through the table.

It was stupid honestly, how whenever he thought he was used to your beauty, you managed to surprise him, standing in a new light and taking him anew. You were bathed in the shine of the red and purple flashing from the fairy lights, eyes sparkling, lips a little bit parted with rescue words ready to slip through. However, you didn’t need to pronounce any of those. Heeseung was already walking towards you, acting as if there was no one else in his eyesight.

He only stopped behind you, hands finding your hips — bringing you close to his chest, aligning your bodies in all the right places. It wasn’t the rescue you were expecting, but you forgot about it the moment his laugh echoed through your body.

It’s not that you doubted Jake, but you couldn’t imagine a Heeseung that didn’t laugh like this. The sound was so perfect that it hurt you to imagine a period in which it never existed.

Heeseung seemed created for this joyful and unconditional happiness.

As he leaned on you, you could feel the ghost of his smile on your skin — his breath brushing through your shoulders before he found the base of your neck with a kiss. You tilted your head back, and Heeseung took the opportunity to trail you with kisses, reaching your earlobe with an exasperated slowness before he pinched the sensitive skin.

“Hey, princess.”

You turned around, pressing your fingertips against his chest. In the middle of the furor of the place, you still could feel the cadence of his heart, the way it hammered against your touch.

“What-” he started, but the rest of his question was cut off — taken by your lips on his. He gasped at your sudden action, yet it was muffed when your tongue slid against his. You were demanding in a way he couldn’t remember you ever being. Your fingers curled on his t-shirt, pulling him closer, and he allowed himself to grip your waist. Your dress was so thin, he could feel your skin beneath it, all warm and his as he ended the small inch you failed to.

He kissed you deeper, a little messier, and a small whine escaped from you.

“Go get a room in the name of lord,” someone screamed, so close it hadn’t left any doubt it was for you and Heeseung.

You both parted, lips swollen from kissing, sucking, and causing you to bury your face in his chest, but Heeseung only laughed — the same joyful and happy sound echoing through your body before he reached for the top of your head, tangling his fingers on your hair as he gave a soft pat.

“I think we can call it a night.”

┈┈┈┈

It was later than usual when you arrived at the rented house that night, far later than when your parents used to recoil to their room. But when you stepped inside, the lights of the back porch were still on, a faint echo of a conversation coming through the opened door — not only with the two known voices of your parents but with a third one.

“Grandma,” you smiled.

If you weren’t so happy, you would have stopped for a few seconds, taking note of Heeseung’s jacket still hanging on your shoulders and your still a bit swollen lips. You would have taken a moment to compose yourself. But you only rushed through the house, and the back porch, hugging the old lady.

“When did you arrive?” you asked.

“I am pretty sure the sun was still shining, but someone seems really busy this summer to care about answering her phone.”

“Sunghoon has been complaining about it,” your mother added. “Send him a message once in a while — the boy has been wondering about you.”

“I am sorry,” you said, more directed to what your grandmother said than to your mother.

“So please, enlight me,” your grandmother asked, hands traveling through the collar of Heeseung’s jacket, preventing it from slipping away before she pinched your cheeks. “Your parents were telling me, were you with Hayoung or the mysterious guy in the black BMW?”

You gasped, embarrassed and surprised Heeseung had been the topic of their conversation.

“This same car has dropped you here a lot through the last month,” your father pointed. “We were just wondering if we ever going to meet—”

“His name is Heeseung,” you said. “Lee Heeseung.”

“Right, why don’t you invite this Heeseung to lunch on Monday? Some of my friends are coming here.”

The house on the hill had been a dream for any Hongcheon resident. It used to be just an old and abandoned three-story construction until some businessman decided to buy it and renew it to make a summer rented house — then, it became too grandiose for the modest town. All made with white bricks and having Greek columns supporting the roof, it could be called a manor instead. And ever since the first moment, Heeseung wasn’t amused that your family was the one renting the place for the summer.

It fitted you, the class, the grandiose, the evergreen garden that bloomed flowers throughout the whole year. You were made to this, and he would be lying if he ever said it never scared him — he would be lying if he ever said it wasn’t scaring him now.

The driveway was full beneath the summer sun, your father’s black suburban leading a line of parked convertibles and worth-it sedans. Heeseung was glad that at least his BMW fit in the whole scenery because he wasn’t so sure of himself.

As he walked through the driveway, he noticed the front door hung open for anyone to come inside, but there was something about the idea of not having the small break between the knock and the door swinging open that made him anxious, tugging on the sleeves of his dark suit with frantic hands.

He stood there, unsure of what to do, but you came to him, rushing through the living room, white dress swirling dangerously around your thighs before you hugged him.

“You came,” you whispered, words threading through his hair.

Maybe it had been the summer heat, maybe it had been the sweetness of your perfume, and the way you had turned the full force of your joy into his direction. But instead of replying, he just stood still, lost in the sense of you.

Only when you stepped back, he reminded himself. You took sight of him, and your eyes flicked beneath the afternoon sun. You never have seen Heeseung wearing anything that wasn’t a combination of his jeans, shirts, and leather jacket, so the full view of him in a suit and a tie astonished you.

“Is it too much?” he whispered.

It was, it really was, but you were so happy he was there — so happy he cared that you let it all pass with a single shake of the head.

“They settled the lunch in the back garden,” you said. “I am just afraid you will get a heat stroke.”

Heeseung exhaled, a bit too harshly as he slightly inclined his head. But he didn’t need to finish his small rite, shaking his head and pretending to fix his bangs like he always did, you already knew he was embarrassed. So you didn’t say anything as you interrupted him, taking his hands in yours, and guiding him further into the living room. You didn’t say anything as you reached for his shoulders, rushing your hands beneath the heavy suit and removing it.

Heeseung was well aware the piece was cheap, probably the cheapest suit you have ever touched, but still, you folded it with so much care before you placed it over a nearby couch — with so much care, he couldn’t come into peace about what he was supposed to do with himself.

“Princess,” he called, not because he had something to say, but because he thought if he didn’t make something factual, he would fade between a touch and another.

The memories of Saturday were still too vivid and too triggering late at night, and to add something else seemed too much.

You hummed in reply, reaching for his tie, fingers curling on the dark material before you tugged him to your height. When he bent in, your breath brushed through his cheeks, warm, and teasingly.

However, despite the confidence of your actions, your cheeks were rosier than before, an adorable denounce you were a little bit embarrassed too, and that was it — you had broken the spell. Heeseung laughed at you, the pleasant sound echoing through the whole room at the same time the invisible weight he carried on his shoulders was lifted.

“You don’t need to worry about anything, you know?” you whispered. “I am here.”

“I know you are,” he whispered back, spreading his palms on your waist, fingers accidentally tangling on the laces of your dress as he brought you closer.

His nose brushed against yours, and your lips parted, just enough to taste the sweetness of the tea on his breath. Chamomile and honey, his grandmother’s favorite combination to calm any nerves down.

“Now, this is what I call a worth-it movie scene,” your grandma interrupted, making Heeseung step back. “Is this the infamous Lee Heeseung?”

“Yes, grandma,” you said, hurriedly. “This is Heeseung, my-”

You stopped, all at once, mind still stuck on him, and that one never once confirmed word. And perhaps you had been there for so long that your grandmother laughed out loudly, being followed by a more shy and reserved Heeseung.

“Don’t worry about explaining it to me, darling,” she said. “It might be hard to imagine, but I have been this age before.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Heeseung,” she continued.

“Pleasured to meet you too,” Heeseung replied, extending his hand at your grandmother. But she ignored it, preferring to instead, take him in a long and tight hug.

“Now hurry to the back garden! Her parents are asking about you already!”

┈┈┈┈

“I have a feeling your grandmother would love to meet my grandmother,” Heeseung whispered against your ear. And you laughed at that, soft and genuinely — allowing the sound to blend with the furor of the back garden.

Everything was happening there already. The air was smokey with the marinated meat left on the grill, encircled with the flowers growing on the bushes. Children laughed as they ran through the greenish grass, and adults scattered themselves on the long table, talking above their crystal cups with an enthusiasm that only came from too much happiness, too much alcohol, or both.

And as you took the last steps to the garden, your father approached, a glass of his favorite champagne already hanging in his left hand, as he held your mother’s with the other. He kept his hair slicked back, proudly showing the significantly graying hair at the sides, meanwhile, your mother kept simple but still too lined up. And even if Heeseung hadn’t asked about it, their attire gave away their successful work in business, suddenly making Heeseung more comfortable in his own attire. You had finished removing his tie and rolled his sleeves up, but he was still way too formal for his daily basics.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” your father said, extending his hand at Heeseung. “Y/N has been safekeeping you the whole summer.”

You weren’t sure if your father had said it intending to be funny or to call both of you out, but if anything Heeseung took your father’s hand, shaking it with the best smile he could.

“It’s great to meet you too sir.”

“Please, no sir — we are all family here,” your father said, and your mother smiled, extending her own hand to Heeseung.

“Y/N can guide you through, but feel free here, Heeseung,” your mother said.

A phone chimed in the middle of the conversation, and you immediately recognized it as your dad’s.

“Excuse me,” he asked, taking the device out of his pants back pocket.

“Sunghoon!” your father greeted. Heeseung could notice your switch of emotions, the way you stiffened as your smile disappeared with a hitch of breath. “Oh? Perhaps I overestimated the driveway?”

Another pause.

“Do you see a gate on the right side? I am going to open it up to you, park at the side — no, don’t worry.”

Your parents walked away and Heeseung reached for your hand, pinching you gently, but because he was too respectful he didn’t question the reason behind your reaction. Not even when a brown Range Rover came into view, and Sunghoon left the car like a gush of winter wind, greeting your parents and giving a fine bottle of wine like the old acquaintance he was. Not even when Sunghoon approached you, lips curling on a fond smile, eyes gleaming, not being able to hide the irrational happiness of simply seeing you.

You slipped from Heeseung’s touch, allowing Sunghoon to hug you, and when his arms involved your waist, bringing you tantalizing closer as his lips chased for your temple, something settled inside of Heeseung. Strong enough to make him dizzy, great enough to ache.

He had never considered himself a jealous person, but perhaps he simply never cared about something enough.

Sunghoon not only had the type of face girls in this county would make lines for, but he knew how to wear his money well. His car was impressive, a Range Rover velar with a customized mental brown tint that matched the tone of his silk button-down, and he made a strange image near you, almost too fitting. Almost too perfect.

“Hee, this is Park Sunghoon, son of my father’s business partner,” you said, drawing back. “Also my classmate at University and friend.”

“Lee Heeseung,” Heeseung said, his voice sounding pleasant enough as he extended his right hand at Sunghoon. However, he had stepped past you, pulling himself between you and Sunghoon and making it clear his true feelings.

Your palm met the back of his shoulders almost unconsciously, spreading your fingers and feeling the warmth of the sun beneath the cotton of his shirt.

Sunghoon straightened himself to his full height, but took Heeseung’s hand anyway, shaking it for a brief moment before he turned back to you.

“I have been calling,” Sunghoon said.

“I am sorry, I haven’t been much on the phone lately.”

“I know, your mother told me — what reminds me, I have something for you,” he said. “Please, wait a moment.”

“I-” you started, but Sunghoon was already walking back to his car, opening the door and reaching for something on the passenger seat. You barely had looked at Heeseung, noticing his clenched jaw before Sunghoon was back.

“I heard you have been obsessed with a disposable camera,” he said. “So I bought this while I was in Japan last week, I think something higher quality would be better.”

Sunghoon extended the box to you, and immediately, a gasp escaped from you. The box was completely black, except for the Fujifilm logo and the camera’s name, both of them shining in metallic beneath the afternoon sun. You never had searched much about cameras to be an expert, but you knew enough to comprehend, it was outstanding.

It easily outmatched the camera Heeseung had gotten you on the night of the carnival, and even so — even so, you still preferred Heeseung’s. You liked the analog camera — you liked the retro feeling it had. You liked how your grandma had laughed when you first appeared with it, telling you it looked so old, but this small sudden thought made you realize the reason you kept it safe with you wasn’t because of the item itself, but because of the memories you kept collecting with Heeseung throughout the month.

“Sunghoon, it’s really nice, and I appreciate the thought, but I can’t accept it.”

“Why?” he asked, frowning. Eyebrows brought together, the smile he carried just a second gone, everything on his face giving away he was faltering inside.

Sunghoon had always been unable to hide his emotions, ever since you knew him. Everything was always there, just a sight away.

“I-” you started, tongue almost rolling into the lie that it was too expensive, but what was a few billion won for him? What was a few billion won for your family? He was going to laugh as soon as you finished the phrase.

“I am already content with the camera Heeseung gave me.”

And that was it, you had broken both of them with a single phrase. Heeseung eased beneath your touch at the same time Sunghoon’s lips parted in an exclamation.

There was a small fraction of a second that you thought, Sunghoon was about to say something as he looked between you and Heeseung, but he let it all go, turning to the long table settled in the middle of the garden, and listening to your grandma summoning everyone to eat.

“I am going first,” he said. “I haven’t greeted your grandma and my parents.”

As Sunghoon walked away, Heeseung reached for you, fingers intertwining just to bring you close to his chest.

“You didn’t need to protect the camera so fiercely.”

“It wasn’t the camera,” you said, and he smiled down at you because he knew.

┈┈┈┈

At the table, everything seemed even more chaotic. Near the extremity, Sunghoon’s father was telling a terrible joke. You smiled, just politely, tightening your grip on Heeseung’s hand as you guided him farther. In the middle, people talked loudly about politics as if it was the most pleasant topic for a summer afternoon. Your head spun just by hearing the names.

You ended up sitting at the other extremity, across from one of your mother’s oldest friends, Mrs. Choi. She smiled easily and talked about her life even more easily. Everything there was to know about her, you have listened at least once, or perhaps twice, not that you considered her a bother. She was someone easy to be with, so when she turned her head at you and smiled, all you could do was smile back.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed. “Exactly the woman I was looking for.”

“Is that so?”

“My niece got into Seoul National University too, she is starting in autumn,” she said. “She is considering moving to the dorms, do you still live there?”

“Oh, no,” you replied. “The dorms are great, but I couldn’t adapt very well to the community kitchen and decided to move to a studio nearby.”

“Is it that bad?”

“No, I just dislike cooking with strangers passing by.”

Mrs. Choi laughed at it for a blissful moment before she turned to Heeseung.

“And you?” she asked. “Do you study with her in Seoul too?”

“No,” you promptly said. “Heeseung — he stays nearby.”

“Oh, and what are you going to do once the summer ends?” she asked. “You two are together, right?”

The question was crafted in mere curiosity, but all at once, you faltered as if you had been verbatim attacked. Your hands fell on the table, fingers too weak to do anything aside from staying there.

Heeseung knocked his knee against yours, a reassuring gesture that he was still with you.

“Seoul is just a couple of hours away,” he said. “Whenever she wants me to — if she wants me to, I would drive anywhere just to see her,”

“There’s no one else in this world like her.”

He spoke it easily behind a glass of iced tea, almost unwittingly, but the words ached within you so wonderfully simple and warm. You wished you could hold them in your palms, keep them between your fingers, just so you could press and feel them whenever you were faltering.

┈┈┈┈

Aside from Mrs. Choi telling for what you suspected to be the third time about her month-worth trip through Europe. Nothing happened between the main course and the dessert.

Heeseung’s hand had found comfort on your knee, the soft pressure of his thumb drawing tiny circles through your skin as the end of the afternoon approached, the sun lowering into the chain of hills, the sky turning into a vivid orange that only summer sunsets managed to. But only when Mrs. Choi excused herself, saying she wanted to catch the first stars, you allowed yourself to put your hand above Heeseung’s, leaning closer, your cheeks almost touching his so you could whisper.

He didn’t think it would make any difference at all. There were so many things happening still that no one would notice if you screamed at him, but he liked how your perfume was everything he could breathe, all sweet and flowery. He liked how you spoke so closely, almost giving him a taste of the strawberry cocktail you had tried.

“Take me somewhere?” you asked.

Heeseung looked at you. He intended to ask if it would be alright to simply leave like this. However, when your gazes encountered, remnants of sunlight reflected through your eyes, glistening the color with a goldish light that made you feel like part of the sky rather than a material thing and everything he could do was nod, using your already connected hands to pull you up and away, until you had reached his BMW.

He drove you further into the hills with the windows down, and the headlights only illuminating as far as the next turn. He reached for the same open field he had taken you on the night of the first race, but instead of stopping, he kept going, away and away — until you were so far from the town that all you could hear were the soft whispers of the night when he turned the engine off.

It wasn’t quiet, but silent. Something you never had experienced while living in the city.

“Look to the sky,” he asked. And you did, looking up through the window.

At Hongcheon there were never enough streetlights to obliterate the stars completely, you could always get a glimpse of them, but there, so up through the hills, the stars were so bright they almost formed a river, a stream of light against the dark.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.

“It really is.”

You turned to look at Heeseung, but he had his gaze already fixed on you, his eyes gleaming, lips curling on a fond smile. He had no embarrassment in letting you know he had been like this for the whole while. And when you reached for him on the gear stick, spreading your palm through the back of his hand, Heeseung promptly moved beneath your touch, turning his palm into yours and intertwining your fingers.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

Heeseung didn’t reply — not right away, he allowed the question to hang within the seconds, blending with the summer breeze as his gaze lingered on your face a little too long to be incidental before wandering through the sky.

“The day we met, I was racing with Jake,” he said. “I remember looking down on Hongcheon and thinking about how summer was starting,”

“I just had this feeling that something was coming — something great.”

“Was it?” you asked. “Great?”

“Wonderful,” he whispered.

You leaned across the gearshift. And Heeseung let go of your intertwined hands to cup your face, his fingers preferring to thread through your hair instead, bringing you closer so his lips could graze yours, a new kind of kiss, parted lips that were barely there.

It was slow in a way you couldn’t remember it ever being — it was lazier in a way that only came with the acknowledgment of something none of you were going to name yet but knew was there.

Heeseung slid his seat all the way back, subtly pulling you to him. The BMW didn’t have the back seats, and it didn’t give much space. But you moved anyway, your knees straddling his hips, your palms pressed to his chest, the soft rhythm of his heartbeats against your touch.

His heart skipped a beat when you slid your hands down on his torso, feeling the warmth the sun had left on his skin before you curled two fingers on the first button of his shirt. But if anything, Heeseung just nodded at you.

You were aware he was watching you, burning you with affection and fondness as he accompanied every move you did to open button after button. Your fingers splayed over the just exposed skin of his chest, brushing through his whole extension until you reached to his neck, threading your fingers in the hair at his nape, and angling him to you. Heeseung shivered beneath your touch, a small growl escaping his lips.

“You are my downfall, but as well my saving, princess,” he whispered. “I hope you know it.”

You caught his bottom lip on yours, once, twice, enough times to feel brave enough to brush your tongue against it, but Heeseung was already on it, sliding his tongue against yours. He kissed you deeper, messier — needier. And if it wasn’t enough to make you whine, when he shifted beneath you, pressing the solid length of himself against you was.

Heeseung cursed when you grind against him, sliding his hands up to your thighs. He never had relished your sundresses as much as he did now, passing the hem of it with no ado, and pinching his fingers on your bare waist. He held you still, lips leaving yours just to find your neck, trailing down to your shoulders with an open mouth and making you shiver despite the heat wrapped around the car.

“If you keep going one more minute — I am gone,” he murmured.

“Hee, please.”

“Please what, princess?”

“I need you.” He chuckled at the way you had said it, all whine, soft and pure.

He pinched you again, just to make sure you were looking at him, but you were — you always had been, cheeks flushed, and eyes a bit too bright, almost making him forget what he was supposed to say.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I need you to be sure.”

“I am.”

You could hear him swallowing beneath the silence of the night, reaching up on you — brushing his hands through your ribcage, drawing your dress up to your shoulder, and allowing it to fall somewhere over the console.

He barely gave it a moment before his fingertips ran for the clasps of your laced bra, opening it.

“I didn’t think our first time would be in the front seat of my car, but how can I say no to you?” he said, leaning on you. His forehead landed on your collarbone with a gentle thud, drawing the tip of his nose along the swell of your breasts as his hands found your hips, burying his fingers on your skin. “You are so pretty.”

“Did you think about it?” you asked.

He had heard your question, and understood it, but he also had heard the way your breath hitched in surprise because you never thought you had this effect on him, and instead of replying, he pulled one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking it to a solid point and making your back arch. The act alone was so pleasurable, a desperate sound escaped through your lips before you couldn’t even notice it.

Desire swirled through his eyes and he brought you close to him, rolling his hard length against your center as he moved to the other nipple, his tongue drawing a faint line into your chest.

Heeseung only drew back to savor your reactions, the way your eyes closed, your mouth parted as the most pretty sounds continued to escape through.

“Hee,” you whimpered. You have never heard your voice so desperate like this. You have never felt so desperate. And that was exactly what broke him, the way you called for him so softly and whimpered, so full of wish. He could give you anything even if you never asked.

You reached for his low abdomen, feeling his muscles tense and contract as you fumbled through the waist of his pants, but before you could do anything, Heeseung stopped you — his fingers curling around your wrists.

“I am here,” he said. “I promise I won’t tease you anymore, so let me take care of everything.”

The rest of the clothes were taken off laboriously, Heeseung sliding your panties through your ankles and allowing them to join the rest of your attire before he reached for the button of his pants, getting a little shuffling underneath you as he pushed it down to his tights together with his boxers.

He took himself in his hand, hard, long, and already pushing into you. His breath hitched at the feel of you, whispering your name, pronouncing it with the same deliberate slowness he always had and you couldn’t help but moan at the whole feel of him, fingers curling on his shoulders, head a bit thrown back.

There were silver stripes painted across your skin, the moon appearing behind the trees, invading through his opened window. And you were so pretty like this — so pretty, Heeseung had no second thoughts before meandering his arm around your waist, bringing you close to his chest as he pulled out to the tip and back into you.

It was slow at first, all about him discovering the new shape of you, but soon enough, it was confident, knowing. He knew exactly how to move, how to make you tighten around him, and his name to escape from your lips a little bit more frantic.

Your fingers spread through his neck, trying to angle him up to you, stifling all your whines against his tongue, but Heeseung only buried his face in the curve of your shoulders in response, his heavy breaths against your skin.

“I want to hear you,” he mumbled. “Please.”

Despite your shyness, you did as he asked, giving him all your noises, whimpers, and the soft, snuffled sounds, allowing them to blend with the summer night and the way he kept whispering for you to not stop.

“Heeseung, I-”

He moved, focusing on you, eyes encountering yours for the first time, all dazed and captivated, and he let out a gasp of breath as he leaned into you, forehead brushing your own.

“That’s ok, princess,” he whispered, pressing a little bit deeper, a little bit harder. “I am here, come for me.”

You clenched around him, thighs shaking as the knot in your stomach broke loose, just a few moments before he followed you.

Heeseung swallowed your last whine, catching your lips on his as he slipped out. His fingers smoothed your skin, thumbs drawing full circles as he sat you down on his thighs.

The car went quiet, scratched only by the soft rustle of the leaves outside and Heeseung’s heart slowly coming into peace beneath your fingertips.

“Yours,” he whispered.

You drew back, just a bit, hands slipping from his neck and spreading through his chest for support. The moonlight picked strands of his hair, reflected through his damp skin. You couldn’t make sense of what he had said.

“What?”

“Early — when you were introducing me to your grandmother, you didn’t know what to title me,” he explained. “I am yours, no titles required.”

“My Heeseung?” you asked, not being able to control the small smile forming on your lips.

“Yours,” he agreed.

August arrived in Hongcheon as it always did in Seoul. Although summer was still there, painting everything in vivid and full colors, rain clouds lingered in the sky, holding the heat during the day and causing the air to sting with the threat of a storm at the end of the night.

Only that at Hongcheon, the air also stung with the rumble of engines, the smell of car exhaustion, burnt tires, and worries on Saturday nights.

You pulled Heeseung’s jacket tight around your body, tugging the collar up to your mouth and purposely breathing on his peony perfume, allowing it to be the only thing in your lungs as you looked around. This part of the county was so flat, anywhere you looked the low canopy of dense gray clouds seemed to meet the asphalt, and the idea of Heeseung being caught in the rain made your heart falter.

You still remember when Heeseung raced you to the coast, the world was just a blur beyond the windows, the roads too slippy beneath the BMW’s tires. He didn’t need water in the middle of all of this to make it harder.

“They are coming back,” Sunhae announced.

You looked at the highway in time to see headlights breaking in between the asphalt and the clouds.

“Seems like lover boy is leading this week.”

“Damn, I bet on Daekho,” Hayoung cursed.

“You have a crush on him.”

“He is handsome? yes,” your cousin admitted. “Would I mind if the boys gave me his number? Definitely no, but no. I am not twelve to have a crush.”

Sunhae replied something, bringing out the most genuine laugh from both of them, but you were already a world apart, taking in the familiar sound of the BMW’s tires squealing through the asphalt, raising a trail of smoke just a few moments before Heeseung threw his door open, seizing to the roof to slip out faster.

You didn’t remember the decision of moving, only that you did. When Heeseung stepped in front of his headlights, you were already there, threading your fingers in the hair at his nape, bringing his forehead against yours at the same time his hands found the bodice of your dress beneath the thick material of his jacket, brushing his thumbs shamelessly through the curve of your breasts.

“I was worried,” you said.

“Why?”

“It’s going to rain soon.”

“I told you I would come back in one piece.” Heeseung laughed at you, all fond and appreciative before he pestered you with quick kisses all over your face, but when he chased for your lips, you froze beneath his touch, all at once, the wandering fingers in the middle of a brush, the small smile gone.

But only when he followed your eyesight did he notice the reason why.

Sunghoon approached across the highway, his brown Range Rover parked just behind. With all the furor of the racers arriving, and the people shouting, none of you noticed the Range Rover coming in the wrong way. It blended in the middle of all the other fancy cars, yet Sunghoon — Sunghoon could never blend in a place like this.

Heeseung thought the formal attire was a requirement both of them had created for your parent’s lunch, but looking at him there, at eleven o’clock on the night of a Saturday, he wondered if the man ever wore anything that wasn’t dress pants and silk button-downs.

“What a sight,” Sunghoon said. “I hope you both are enjoying the remaining weeks.”

“After all, what do you think’s going to happen by the end of summer, Heeseung?” he asked, but Heeseung didn’t reply.

“Well, let me tell you then. Y/N is going back to the city — back to the best university in the country while you will be here,” Sunghoon said, his hands gesturing to the surroundings with an unmistakable repulse. He didn’t need to finish his thoughts, the sentence had already been completed before he even spoke it, but still, Sunghoon seemed to relish his mind so much that he had to. “At this end of the world, earning your dirty money.”

“Shut up,” Heeseung hissed.

“What? Do you think she likes you?” Sunghoon laughed, head thrown back, but there was no humor in it. “C’mon Heeseung, we both know she is too good for you. It’s pity, and as soon as she is back in Seoul, she will forget this moment of charity,”

“So enjoy fucking her while you can.”

You felt Heeseung stiffening, his jaw clenching beneath your thumbs at the same time his hands slipped away.

“Hee,” you called, but it was too late. He had let you go, fleeing through the space between you and Sunghoon.

Heeseung grabbed Sunghoon’s button-down, twisting the thin material between his fists. He didn’t seem to think about the consequences of his actions — he simply did it, using his grip to push Sunghoon onto the Range Rover’s hood. The sound of the body hitting the brown-tinted metal was almost imperceptible amidst the sudden cheers.

“Not the car.” Sunghoon hissed.

“Not the car?” Heeseung echoed, mockery pushing through each pronounced letter. However, he seemed to concur, ripping Sunghoon from the car hood and allowing the latter to stumble back to his feet.

It happened too quickly for you to process. You didn’t even see who launched the opening blow; you only knew that it happened, getting them into a real fight.

Heeseung laughed in the middle of the chaos, something you always thought to be soft unfolding sharply within the night.

He stopped, pointing at his own face as if to encourage Sunghoon to throw another punch. But the moment Sunghoon did, he went down to the dirty asphalt, Heeseung above him.

“Heeseung!” you called again, more urgently. But he seemed to not have heard you — fist still ready and in the middle of another throw before Jake finally reached them.

“Stop it, you are ruining your damn face,” Jake said, hauling Heeseung up by his shoulders.

“Leave,” Heeseung hissed to Sunghoon. “Before I end you,”

“I have been wanting to do it already.”

Sunghoon stood up, touching his pinkie finger to his lips to check for blood. He had so many bruises on his cheek and hands that the lips seemed the least problem. However, you couldn’t feel sorry for him — not with how he straightened himself, adjusting his button-down and giving you an awful smile.

“You know it’s not over, right?” Sunghoon asked, finally turning to his car.

The Range Rover’s tire squealed as it bit into the asphalt, drifting through the highway. And only when the car disappeared from view, did Jake let go of Heeseung’s shoulders, allowing him to turn back to you, panting, and bleeding.

Despite his state, Heeseung couldn’t feel anything — think about anything. The place still had the smell of car exhaustion and burnt tires, and the air still sting with the upcoming storm, he could hear the commotion of the people around, but everything seemed so subtle that even when your perfume came to his senses, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was just his desperate mind searching for something to hold on in the middle of his numbness.

Yet, he felt your arms around his neck and your warmth against him was enough to pull the world back to its axes. He hugged you back, arms involving your waist, head leaning on your shoulder, the slope of his nose pressed to your neck. He could scent the dirtiness of the race on your skin, the smoke of the cars, and exhaustion, but beneath it, there was your sweet perfume.

“Hee,” you called. There was no reprehension in your tone, it brushed through his skin just like it always did — soft, and all yours. You weren’t sure if you wanted to say something more, it had just slipped through.

Heeseung drew back, just enough for his lips to trail your cheeks, kissing the tears you haven’t realized you had shed.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I am so sorry, princess.”

“Just let me take you out of here, hm?” you said.

Heeseung was surprised that you settled yourself on the driver’s seat of his BMW. But he said nothing as he followed you, taking the passenger seat instead. He said nothing when you stepped on the pedals, pulled the first gear, and drove away. Heeseung waited until you both are already far away from the street racing furor, and you a little bit more comfortable with the fourth gear.

“I didn’t know you could drive.”

“I got my driver’s license as soon as the law permitted, but it was because my dad wanted me to,” you said. “I don’t really enjoy it in the city, there are too much traffic, lights — people.”

He chuckled at your statement, it was a minuscule sound spreading through the night before he reached for your thigh, his palm resting warm and wide on your bare skin.

“You look stunning like this.”

“You are so flirty.”

“I am just telling you the truth,” he said. Your mouth parted, a small incredulous sound leaving your throat and Heeseung couldn’t help but laugh — not the sharp laugh he had released with Sunghoon, but the one you loved, the soft, beautiful, and capable of twitching your heart one.

He rested his head on the seat, but not for a single second he allowed his gaze to move away from you as you drove back to the town.

┈┈┈┈

By the time you reached the main avenue, everything had become so silent, it was easy to think you and Heeseung were the only people left in the world. All the stores had closed for the day, turning their signs off and leaving only the 24 hour convenience store to cast an artificial light among the street lamps.

“I will stop to get something to clean you,” you said.

“You don’t need to, princess,” he replied. But you had already parked in the shade of the walkway outside the glass door, reaching blindly for the space behind the seats in search of your purse.

“Don’t move,” you told him. Yet still, Heeseung did, fingers coming into the encounter the sides of your neck, thumbs caressing your skin, and subtly turning you to his side in an attempt to make you stay.

“You really don’t need to,” he whispered.

The sky was dark with dense clouds. The only source of light was the fluorescent lamps from the convenience store, and with him trying to pull you against him, making you shadow this small sort of light, it was difficult to see his face, but there was something about the way he had said it, so frail, and wheedling.

“Let me take care of you,” you asked. “Please.”

And that was it, even if he never told you, there was this thing inside of him — this inability to simply say no when it was you to receive this small rejection. Heeseung would do anything you asked, in a single heartbeat.

So he waited in the warmth of the BMW, watching as you slipped through the convenience store’s door, his leather jacket still hanging tightly around your shoulders as you scanned the aisles. He felt himself ache just looking at you, chest too tight to breathe, eyes all soft, and when you came back, opening the passenger door, everything he did was slid the seat all the way back, allowing you to climb to his lap, knees around his hips as he reached for you almost unconsciously, hands resting at your waist, thumbs drawing slow circles through the thin material of your dress as you scattered your new purchases through the small space between both of you. A bottle of antiseptic, two packages of cotton, and a bunch of bandages, Heeseung was sure you had bought the whole first aid session from the convenience store.

But before he could joke about it, you turned the car’s light on, and beneath this sudden clarity, you frowned, eyebrows up, lips pressing into a thin line. The wounds were worse than it seemed, there was a cut over his eyebrows, bleeding as a darker bruise spread over his left cheek. You reached for them, the tip of your fingers wandering through his skin as if you could erase them with your bare touch.

“I am sorry, Hee,” you whispered.

“Why are you asking me sorry? I was the one fighting.”

“If it wasn’t because of me, Sunghoon wasn’t going to be there.”

He winced when you touched the cotton on him, gripping hard on your waist. The antiseptic burnt through his cuts.

“What are you to him?” Heeseung asked, so low that if you weren’t paying enough attention to him, it would have slid and slipped away within a moment. “I know you told me he is your father’s business partner’s son, and you both study together, but why does he-”

He stopped, all of a sudden, his eyes preferring to focus on the windshield instead of you.

“Sorry, I trust you, it’s just — he is right, you know? You are too good for me, and I am afraid of how many men you have wrapped around your finger.”

“Heeseung, don’t-”

“I am talking about how you treat me,” he said. “Princess, you never get angry. You didn’t get angry when you found out about the racing — you are not angry right now. I don’t know what you are made of, but surely it’s too good for me.”

“I do get angry,” you whispered. “I am so angry with myself right now. I just wish I could make you understand that you are everything to me, Heeseung. I just wish I could find the right thing to say, the right thing to do, but it seems like the more I try the more I hurt you. I-”

You let go of his face, catching his hand instead, his knuckles were an angry red, with blood dried, and settling in the lines of his skin. You brushed cotton soaked in antiseptic across this new area, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears coming once again with your head turned down.

But he did. Heeseung was always watching you too attentively.

“I am sorry, princess.”

Heeseung hugged you, his arms embracing your waist as he brought you as close as he could, resting his head on your shoulders, his nose pressed to your neck. He could scent the dirtiness of the race on your skin still, the smoke of the cars, and exhaustion, but beneath it, there was your sweet perfume. There was always your sweet perfume.

“I am so sorry,” he whispered.

Heeseung hasn’t cried — not even once, being it for his mother or for his father. However, when you pulled him tight against your shoulders, fingertips too warm against the sides of his neck, he found himself sobbing like he couldn’t remember ever doing. The forgotten feeling of the tears running down his face slowly becoming familiar once again.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered. “You never have to feel sorry for me.”

You angled Heeseung’s face to you, resting your forehead against his, cleaning his tears with the soft pads of your thumbs. He took the opportunity to catch your bottom lip, pinching it between his a few times before it turned into a real kiss, but you drew back, wrinkling your nose.

“You are tasting like antiseptic,” you said.

He laughed, throwing his head back and closing his eyes for a long moment before he straightened himself back, brushing a stray lock behind your ear.

“You always do,” Heeseung whispered. “Say the right thing, do the right thing.”

“You do too,” you confessed. “What you said to Mrs. Choi — driving to Seoul whenever I want you to, it—”

“Was the simple truth,” he completed. “It takes just an hour to arrive there, and considering I am following the speed limits, what you know I only do when you are in the car.”

“I can come and go twelve times a day, you know?”

It was your turn to shy away, focusing on the collar of his t-shirt instead, playing with the kneaded material with the tip of your fingers.

“You spoil me too much.”

“I can handle a spoiled little princess,” he said.

“Can you?”

“Definitely.”

Heeseung slid his hands to your neck, his thumbs pressing gently into your skin as he tipped your head, angling you so you had to look at him, take in his gleaming eyes for a quiet second before he kissed you, and this time you didn’t draw back, even with the taste of antiseptic and blood when you brushed your tongue through his bottom lip, earning a groan as he parted his mouth for you.

Outside the car, a rumble of thunder echoed through the halted avenue, immediately bringing the awaited storm, the heavy raindrops tapping the BMW windows, but if anything you curled your fingers on Heeseung’s t-shirt, bringing him as close as you could.

The cadence of his heart matched with yours. And it was so easy to believe you both were the only ones remaining in the world — so easy.

┈┈┈┈

The storm didn’t cease as Heeseung drove you to the rented house, pounding harshly on the windshields as thunder kept breaking through the sky.

His hand seemed to hitch above the gear stick, ready to pull the engine a little bit harder, simply because he knew he could do it — Heeseung had perfect control over the BMW, but you seemed uneasy with the harshness of the storm, and he laughed, reaching for you instead, resting his palm between your tights through the rest of the drive.

Heeseung usually parked on the street, headlights illuminating the garden’s patch for you as he watched you walk away, his leather jacket on your shoulders, high heels hitting the rocks, but tonight, he passed through the gates, stepping on the brakes only when your door was just one jump away from the stairs.

“Is it your father?” he asked, taking your attention to one of the rocking chairs on the porch. As if he had listened to Heeseung, your father stood up, as intimidating as someone could be in a blue-striped pajama, and hair down.

“I should greet him,” Heeseung mumbled, and you nodded, although you thought it wasn’t the best night. You had done your best to clean him, however, the metallic scent of blood was still surrounding the air, quietly yet effortlessly being a constant reminder of the early incident.

The clock on the BMW showed precisely one in the morning, you had never arrived so late, and you tried to convince yourself that was the reason why your father had decided to wait outside for the first time during the whole summer. You tried to convince yourself that if Heeseung remained a few steps behind, your father wouldn’t notice the bandage on his eyebrow, and the darkening bruise on his left cheek.

But there was already something different in your father, something fierce and overprotective. The moment you stepped closer, his hand rested on your shoulder, subtly pulling you away from Heeseung.

“Give his jacket back,” your father demanded.

“What?” you asked, not because you didn’t understand, but because the harshness with which he had said it surprised you.

“You heard me.”

You looked back at Heeseung, mirroring his perplexed expression. He had extended his hand at your father, but it had been ignored by the latter, and Heeseung used his still extended hand to reach for his jacket instead.

There was a moment of silence between you, the only sound coming was from the rumble of thunders, but it wasn’t the cause of the changeless in the air, making it halted and heavy enough to be felt, thick with a tension you weren’t used to.

“I am sorry for bringing Y/N late, sir,” Heeseung started. He had stopped a bit farther away, the rain plugging on his hair, running through his shoulders, and soaking his t-shirt. “We—”

“You should go back home, Heeseung,” your father cut. “As you said it is late, and I need to have a serious talk with my daughter.”

“I will call you later, Hee,” you promised.

Heeseung nodded at you, stepping behind at the same time your father guided you through the door.

The clarity of the interior of the rented house took you anew, making you blink several times before you could take the form of your mother sitting on the couch, a first kit aid settled on her lap, and a bunch of cotton as dirty as the ones you left on Heeseung’s car discarded on the table in front of her.

There was no real indication of Sunghoon’s passage through the house, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know it was all his doing.

And although you could feel your body cooling, you weren’t surprised when your father finally broke the question.

“Has Heeseung ever raced with you in the car?”

You felt a little lurch at that. The idea of lying seemed to attempt you. It would be so easy to simply say no — so easy to let that night be buried as a secret between you and Heeseung. However, you had allowed the question to hang in for too long, and when you noticed, it was already too late to do so.

In the middle of your silence, your mother released a tortuous sound, closing her hand above her chest as if something inside of her hurt — and perhaps, it did. Her tears streamed silently beneath the night’s light.

“I asked him to do it,” you finally said. “Please, let me explain, Heeseung-”

“Stop it right now!” your father burst, a single hand coming harsh against the nearest wall.

Your father never had screamed at you, not even once. And the sudden ferocity in his voice tore the small thread keeping you from breaking.

“Sunghoon appeared here, bleeding because your boyfriend — a street racer,” he continued, pronouncing street racer with the same repugnance as he would say bandit. “beat him, and not only this, Y/N, you go to his races!”

“What if the police appeared? All the years you dedicated yourself to get into a good university, to stay at the top of your classes — the future you have been working so hard for, all of suddenly thrown in the trash because of a guy?”

“I don’t know who you are anymore, but you surely are not the daughter I raised.”

The living room fell silent at this and only then you noticed how fast your heart was beating. It hummed against your ears, so loud you couldn’t even think.

Your father turned to the stairs, leaving you behind without a second or uncertain glance. He had already declared everything he wanted, be it with words or not. Your mother remained, but if she was going to say something, she let it all go with a single shake of head before she trailed helplessly after him.

You didn’t follow them up the stairs, but instead, you stood still, staring so long into the walls that when you finally reached for your phone, it took a while for your vision to focus.

“Princess?” Heeseung called. Your heart tethered itself, just his voice was enough to make you stop trembling. “I was waiting for you.”

You breathed in, perhaps so harshly that it made him stop at the other end of the line. You weren’t sure how long had it been since your father shoved Heeseung away from the front porch, you only knew it had been long ago, perhaps a lifetime ago, yet — he was still waiting for you.

Heeseung would always wait for you.

“I am sorry,” you whispered, because you were — because you weren’t sure what else you could tell him. “I am so sorry.”

“Sunghoon told your parents about the racing, didn’t he?” he asked. His question didn’t carry the madness or annoyance it could be expected if made just a few hours earlier. Instead, he sounded pitiful.

Heeseung knew his secret would someday come between both of you. He knew it from the moment he had first seen you at the party. You were French dresses, high heels, golden pins on the hair and champagne on the weekends. You had the world at your feet, meanwhile, he barely had a place for himself.

“He did,” you admitted.

He closed his eyes to calm his pulse, and before he could doubt the wisdom of saying it, he did.

“Maybe we should take a break from seeing each other,” he whispered.

“Hee-”

“Just for a few, princess,” Heeseung said. “It will do no good infuriating your father more.”

“I don’t want it to be just a summer thing, you and me,” he continued. “I will do anything to prove my worth to your father, but for now I think we should slow down a bit.”

“You are worth it.”

“I am glad you think like this,” he said, a pinch of a smile in his voice. “Let’s keep calling, alright?”

“Alright.”

Heeseung was the one to call you the next night.

It was precisely at the same hours you had called him, almost as if he had programmed it because he knew it would be safer for you.

You made your way out of bed, walking to the window seat just to curl yourself there in the middle of all the pillows.

“Princess,” he called as soon as you picked up. “Have you looked at the moon tonight?”

With a tethered heart, you turned to the windows, following the moonlight through the clouds above before you exhaled, stuck by the quiet beauty.

“Not until now, it’s beautiful,” you said. Your voice sounded muffed into the pillow.

“Bad hour?” Heeseung asked. “We can hang up.”

“No, please — keep talking, I want to hear you.”

“So suddenly,” he laughed. “What do you want to hear about?”

“Anything, I just want to hear you.”

“Have I ever told you what I studied at university?” he asked. Although you knew Heeseung had been a university student for a few semesters, the question took you anew, you never have stopped to think about what would have been his major. And perhaps because he noticed the reticent on you, he continued without your answer. “Architecture.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” he laughed.

“I didn’t!”

“You did.”

“I just never stopped to think about your major,” you admitted. “How was it? The university?”

“Glorious and terrible days,” Heeseung said, making you laugh. The sound surprised you, making you press your fingertips against your lips. There was no better way to sum up university life.

“Did you used to live in the dorms?”

“Yes, with Jungwon and Jake,” Heeseung said. You could hear a subtle longing in his voice.

“It seems interesting.”

“It was a mess — we once set off the fire alarm, and the whole building had to evacuate at two in the morning.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he said. “It seemed like a great idea to cook inside the room back then.”

Hours passed this way. Heeseung told stories of his old dorms, and their uncomfortable beds, his university, and its old mismatching buildings. He perfectly surrounded how much he wished he had stayed there, and only gave brief pauses to hear your laugh, the soft hitches of your breaths at the other end of the line.

Heeseung suddenly fell silent, only the ruffle of his sheets being heard.

“How is Seoul?”

“Beautiful and lonely.”

“Do you miss it? Even if it’s lonely?”

“No,” you said. The speed the words have left your lips surprised you, but still, you continued. “I wish I could stay here. Would you build me a dream house here?”

“I never got my architect license,” Heeseung said. “But if you tell me about your dream house, I can find you something.”

“I want to live in the hills.”

“Should I buy your summer house then?”

“I dislike big houses.”

“So do I,” Heeseung said, immediately pressing his lips in regret. It sounded like it was his dream house too. You could almost picture him — the way his head would bend down before he shook his head in an attempt to cover his shyness. Your lips curved with the image.

“Heeseung?” you called. He only hummed in reply.

“Do you prefer a single-story house or a two-story house?”

“Two-story, especially on the hill — you must enjoy the whole view.”

“With a front porch and a balcony on the second floor?”

“I like the idea.”

“It’s settled then,” you said. “Please, find me my dream house — don’t forget the garage for your BMW, I will also be bringing my Jeep.”

You had hung up so softly, it took him several seconds to notice you did.

It had already been a week when you waited for the house to turn into nothing but the summer breezes coming from the forgotten opened windows before you leaped off the bed, moving as quietly as you could to the front porch.

Beyond the garden, Hongcheon was so calm that you were afraid your whispers would unfold too loudly through the night. However, you sat down on the stairs still, your bare feet brushing through the warm grass as you unlocked your phone, reaching for the single contact you could possibly want.

It rang just a single time before Heeseung picked it up.

“Princess,” he said. You could swear he was smiling at the other end of the line.

“Take me somewhere?”

┈┈┈┈

Heeseung parked his BMW a little bit farther than the conventional, the headlights turned off. He didn’t wait for you to come to the car, the moment he pressed the parking brake, his door was opened and he rushed to you, his warmth involving your waist in a familiarity that made you ache. He swirled you, just once — pulling you out of the ground as his nose buried at the side of your neck, inhaling every little detail he could before he put you back on your feet and drew an inch away, just enough to encounter your gaze beneath the goldish street lights.

His bruises had gotten older, and lighter, already turning into a greenish tone and therefore making it more difficult to look at. But still, you reach for it, the tip of your fingers softly pressuring against his sensitive skin.

Heeseung leaned his forehead against yours. And all of sudden you could scent him, the summer he carried beneath his skin together with peonies. There was no scent of car exhaustion tonight, nor the scent of his leather jacket as he only wore a gray t-shirt and his washed jeans, but it was still very much your Heeseung.

“I missed you,” you said, voice nothing more than a soft whisper.

“I missed you too.”

┈┈┈┈

Heeseung drove you through the dense wood outside of the town, going down on a patch not meant to be passed through, but he seemed to know where he was going, and it was enough for you to adjust comfortably on the seat, bare feet up, legs clutched to your chest. Your dress slipped down on your thigh and gathered in the crease of your hips, showing off way too much but if anything Heeseung’s hand left the gear stick to rest on it, fingers spreading on your bare skin.

The clock on the dash told you the sun was closer to its rising than its setting, yet still, you could feel the warmth of the day brushing through the open windows of the BMW. Everything outside smelled like the moistness of the late summer.

“Where are you taking me?” you asked.

“It’s a secret.” Heeseung replied with a broad smile.

He dropped down a few gears just several minutes after, parking the BMW. The headlights only lit rocks, and only when you slipped out of the car you saw the swimming hole, pooled in the moonlight.

Heeseung stepped forward, kicking off his shoes first, and then pulling his t-shirt and jeans, allowing everything to fall with a dull sound on the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a night swim,” he said, a split second before he jumped in.

Heeseung submerged, his skin sparkling beneath the moonlight glow and the BMW’s headlights, all the drops catching the silver lights as he threw his head back in a laugh.

“Aren’t you coming, princess?”

You could feel Heeseung’s eyes burning your skin, watching you attentively as you slid the straps of your dress away, allowing the thin material to fall.

He said nothing as his gaze traveled down on you, accompanying each of your moves as you reached for the back of your bra and unclasped it. He just stood there, taking the angle of your shoulders, the swell of your breasts. Heeseung was cataloging every inch of you and checking if he hadn’t let anything escape at the first time with adoration.

As you sat on the rocks, feet reaching the water, the cold made it difficult for you to breathe. But before you had a chance to give a better consideration, you snuck in.

“You are crazy, Lee Heeseung,” you gasped.

He laughed at you, allowing the sound to resonate within the night once again as he ended the few inches between you, coming so close you could lift your hand and touch his damp locks, brushing it away from his forehead with no effort despite the height difference.

“But you love me,” Heeseung whispered, taking you anew. The words had left his lips so softly that if you weren’t paying close attention to him, you would believe it was just another passing breeze through your skin.

“Yes,” you whispered back. “I do love you.”

It was a strange thing. Over the past months, he had seen it in your eyes, tasted through your lips, and felt it through every one of your touches. Yet, the impact of how you wordly confirmed you loved him, lanced through his body.

He looked at you like you were a dream to him, and perhaps you were. You could hear the slight tremor in his breath when he exhaled. And the words that came later ached within you.

“I love you too — I love you so much.”

Your hands found the back of his neck, bringing his forehead against yours at the same time he grabbed your thighs, pulling it around his hips. The familiar pressure of his fingertips drawing patterns through your skin before he hitched you higher, your upper body floating above the water.

For such a dark place, there was a great deal of illumination and you could take sight of yourself. Your hair clung to your body, dribbling at the curves and emphasizing the swell of your breasts. The view just seemed to enchant Heeseung even more, his doe-eyes sparkled beneath the moonlight, shining like stars before he went down on you, trailing your stomach with soft kisses.

He whispered your name. The almost never said word grating over your skin.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he said. “I never can get enough of you.”

The headlights of the BMW went off, and Heeseung straightened you back to him, shivers spreading through your skin as his hands slid through you, tracing the slick ridge of your spine before finding the sides of your neck in the dim light.

You were unsettling, skin sparkling in the moonlight glow, and the moment you met his gaze, Heeseung felt completely dazed. His thumb pressed against your lips, just enough for you to part them for him, and allow your tongue to slip through the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing to me?” he groaned. But he was soft and gentle with it, a hint of a laugh when he kissed you.

Heeseung seemed so happy tonight, all crafted on the unconditional gaiety he deserved. And you weren’t willing to let the night end. You weren’t willing to let go of him — not now, not in a few.

Your fingers curled on the hair at his nape, pulling him closer, trying to end a distance that didn’t exist anymore. You could feel Heeseung entirely. From the way he shivered beneath your touch, to the way his breath hitched when you slipped down, mouth running through his throat.

“I want to stay with you.”

“Then stay with me,” he whispered. “For as long as you want.”

┈┈┈┈

Heeseung’s house was as lovely as you remembered — even now, when he closed the door behind you, cutting the only direct source of light, the house was radiant as if it had its own sun.

He stepped past you, reaching his hand out behind. At first, he just pinched your fingertips, but as he guided you through the stairs, he laced his fingers on yours, pulling you closer to him and guiding you through the corridor. He was skilled in finding the most silent places on the wooden floor, allowing your breaths to be the loudest thing resonating through the whole place.

The second-story was tinier than the first one, just a narrow corridor with three doors. Heeseung brought you to the nearest one, turning the light on, you blinked at a blue-tiled bathroom.

“You can go in first,” he told you, walking up to the shower, he turned the knobs and checked the temperature for you. “I will find you some clothes and — everything.”

You barely could nod before he stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Heeseung left you alone to shower, giving you enough time to fill the whole space with a sweet-smelling soap and when he did come back, he didn’t look at you, being deeply focused on the task of leaving the clothes at the sink.

“Hee,” you called. He raised his head at you, meeting your gaze through the fogged glass at the same time you tilted your head to the space in front of you in an unspoken invitation.

Even with the distance you could notice how his breath got caught, a moment of hesitation passing before he reached for the collar of his t-shirt, discharging it and then, his jeans, stripping it down together with his underwear. But all of a sudden, you understood why he was acting like this.

Both of the times you had been together, it was beneath the moonlight, hidden within the night. There was something unduly intimate about the fluorescent lamp above you. It illuminated every sinewy line of his body as he came to a stop in front of you. And it took every ounce of you to reach for the shampoo instead of him.

“Let me-” you started. However, Heeseung had kneeled in front of you, with no second thoughts, he just did it — meeting your gaze through his eyelashes, water pearling on the end for a second before he closed his eyes.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, and he threw his head a bit back, his palms spreading through your hips for support. He honestly didn’t know what to do with himself there. Heeseung couldn’t remember a time someone touched him so gently before you, not because you thought he was breakable, but because you thought he deserved this.

He allowed you to rinse his hair, only standing up when you subtly tap his hands. And then, he let you smooth over his bare skin, starting with his shoulders, and rubbing down to his chest, he groaned when you reached for his low abdomen, fingertips hovering dangerously close to his aching length.

“Princess,” he called. However, his words left his lips with no warning.

“You are hard.”

Heeseung chuckled at your statement, leaning on you, his lips met your ears, scattering shivers through your body despite the warm water.

“I have been struggling with it ever since you took your dress off in the swimming hole,” he confessed.

“Then I should take care of it,” you said, reaching for him, hand wrapping around his length. He cursed when you rolled your thumb through his tip, but he allowed you to stroke him at your pace nonetheless, edging him until his breaths were heavier, shorter, gasping as the only thing passing through his lips was your name, all wishful.

His head dropped forward, burying his nose against your shoulders, and you had to ask him to move, to look at you, to allow you to kiss him tantalizingly sweet, and nothing like the way you kept touching him. Nothing like the whine you accidentally let escape.

Heeseung drew away, all of a sudden before he grabbed your thighs, lifting you easily — perhaps too easily, and making your legs fold around his waist.

“You have been taking too much care of me, let me take care of you too,” he asked.

The bathroom felt smaller, brighter, and softer as you nodded, allowing Heeseung to push himself into you, calling your name, pronouncing each letter with an unreasonable fondness, and turning it into a mutter singing through his pulses.

His moves were careless this time, gone on all your teasing, but he still managed to make you tighten around him, fingers curling on the hair of his nape as your mouth parted against his.

Heeseung swallowed your noises, pressed kisses on your lips as he felt you shaking, spread his palms on the back of your thigh to hold you through your high, and helped you stand when you felt too weak to.

He turned the knobs, letting the bathroom fall silent before he wrapped you both in towels, his hands never letting you go as he guided you to sit between his legs at the toilet before he started rubbing your hair.

“Sorry, I don’t have a hair dryer,” he said.

“It’s better this way,” you admitted, your voice almost sounding purred as you inclined your head back. Heeseung chuckled at your actions, but if anything, his fingers worked slower, rubbing your hair with gentleness until it seemed dried enough to let you slip into the oversized t-shirt he had brought you.

You weren’t sure what time it was, but when he opened the door to his room. The world outside seemed vivid in comparison, a mist of light blue and purple coming through his opened windows.

Heeseung climbed to his bed first, subtly tapping the space at his side in an invitation, and when you followed, he pulled you against him, fitting your body to his — tangling you as much as he could into the circle of his warmth.

“Can you say it again?” he whispered. “What did you say in the swimming hole?”

“That I love you?”

“Yes.”

“Heeseung, I love you,” you said, leaning into him, your forehead on his shoulder, fingertips pressing against the exact place above his heart, feeling the cadence of his whole being as he exhaled, reaching for you too — curling his fingers above yours.

“I love you too, princess.”

The room fell silent, just the soft hustle of his thumbs brushing the inner curve of your wrist, slowly and carefully, causing you to close your eyes. And for the first time, you fell asleep to Heeseung’s beating heart.

You woke up to the summer sunlight filtering through the still-opened windows of Heeseung’s room, the morning glow reflecting through the wind bell and dappling the room in a dozen of colors.

Heeseung was still asleep, the calm rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingertips. He held your hand exactly where you had left it above his heart last night, fingers curled around yours still. You didn’t want to slip away, not yet. But your sore throat hurt and the only cup of water visible had been dried by summer heat.

He stirred when you slipped away from his touch, but he didn’t wake up. His face remains calm, the dark curls of his hair shadowing his eyes as you left the room.

When you approached the kitchen, you heard the soft hustle of dishes echoing, drawers opening and shutting as a secure sign his grandmother was awake. And suddenly you were conscious of your current situation.

Heeseung had gotten you an oversized t-shirt, leaving barely anything of your thighs to see. Yet, the idea of her finding you in nothing but her grandson’s t-shirt as the first thing in the morning seemed somehow worse than coming in a mini and tight dress. But she only turned around to your presence, a smile spreading through her lips before she reached from across the tiny kitchen, taking your hands in a familiar squeeze.

“My dear,” she breathed out. “I had no idea you were here! Are you hungry? I have just prepared a few sandwiches and iced tea.”

“No- I don’t want to bother.”

“Just make me company for a few, I have to leave soon anyway — book club.”

“Oh, seems interesting.”

“Not at all, just a bunch of old women talking about romance books, but I should leave the house once in a while, you know? Not to mold,” she said, making you laugh.

Heeseung’s grandmother poured two cups of iced tea, handing one to you without any further speaking before she sat on one of the kitchen’s chairs, and gestured for you to do the same.

It was relaxed at first, all about her talking of her early years in this small county as the sun kept coming up, but then, she became stiff, approaching the moment Heeseung’s father died.

“It was a tragedy for me, of course. But it ruined Heeseung — I thought I had lost both of my son and grandson that night. You should’ve seen him a few years ago, you wouldn’t even recognize him — he was so lonely and gloomy, even with Jake and Jungwon nearby.”

“But you appeared here — right here,” she continued, pointing at the front door. “I haven’t seen him smile like that in months.”

“I know he is involved in something I wouldn’t be proud of — but he is a good person.”

“He is,” you whispered, not because she needed confirmation, but because it was good to say it out loud. “Heeseung is the greatest person I have ever met.”

┈┈┈┈

When you got back to Heeseung’s room, the morning sun had already given in, allowing the afternoon light to bathe his room entirely.

Heeseung had rolled in his sleep, his back now turned to the place where you had been and the sun perfectly angled upon him. The waves of his dark hair glinted in errant streaks of gold and his skin seemed warm.

You climbed the bed, wrapping your arms around his waist. He still had the sweet scent of the shampoo you both had used late at night, but you could swear there was something brighter on it, something like a change. You spread your fingers above his heart, feeling the cadence of his being.

Only when you had soothed, Heeseung reached for you too, his hand resting right above yours, intertwining your fingers together and letting you know he was awake.

“Where did you go?” he asked, his voice horse from sleep.

You had listened to his question, but you didn’t immediately reply, allowing another moment to hang as you came even closer against his sun-warmed skin, kissing his shoulders.

“I was talking to your grandma.”

“Somehow, it worries me.”

“Why?”

“Wasn’t she exposing me or something?”

“Yes,” you smiled. “People have something to tell me about your past.”

“Exactly — what if they tell you something that makes you want to leave me?” Heeseung asked, although there was a hint of entertainment in his voice, your answer was solemn.

“I doubt it can happen.”

Heeseung rolled to you, blinking with the sudden clarity. His eyes gleamed beneath the morning light. The brown dark mesmerizing turning hazel before he reached for you — fingertips tracing your face with a delicacy you imagined people devoted only to precious things.

His lips found yours easily, just like they always did. His hands spread across your cheeks, fingers brushing and tangling through your hair as he brought you closer as if he believed his existence lay in the acknowledgment of you — on how your heartbeats resonated together, how naturally your hands curled around his shoulders, and the sensations your bare fingertips are capable of drawing on his skin.

His tongue slid against your bottom lip, softly yet demanding, and you obliged immediately, letting him press his tongue over yours in a way that made your body filled with warmth.

You sighed into him, and Heeseung moved swiftly through the bed, hovering above you, his hands promptly leaving your face just to find the crook of your knee, lifting it to his hips before he leaned in, kissing the pulse on your neck. His lips moved tenderly against your skin, pinching as his hands found the hem of your — his shirt, working it up to your thighs, your waist. He paused only to slip it over your head.

His hands splayed through your waist, holding you still.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” Heeseung said. “I will do it.”

You grazed on him, eyes dazed as your fingertips found his lips in a silent and almost unconscious wish. Heeseung smiled as he glided away from your touch. Because he understood you just too well — because he was willing to do anything you asked him to.

“Y/N, my princess,” he confided. “My love.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I loved having you in my car, and the shower, but having you here — all pretty on my bed, I will take my time with you.”

His fingers dug at the crook of your knee, lifting your leg to his shoulder as he finished moving into the space between your legs. He traced a path of kisses over the inner of your thighs, greedy, pushy, and purposely avoiding the place where you needed him the most. He had said he was going to take his time with you, and apparently, he meant to be true to his words.

You whined at his actions, and he chuckled, giving one final kiss before he allowed his tongue to run between your lips, from the bottom all the way to the top. It was warm soft licks, before he gave your clit an attention that made your legs shake.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, just enough pressure to make him shiver beneath your touch. Heeseung deepened and you knew even with your eyes closed that he was giving you his sweet smile.

You made a lousy sound, clapping a hand over your mouth to stifle it before Heeseung reached for you, intertwining your fingers, bringing it far from your lips and down into the mattress.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “I want to hear you.”

He moved onto his knees, hair mussed from your fingers, lips rosy, and you would have felt embarrassed if he wasn’t looking at you like there was no one else in this world for him, but he was, and you reached for him, pushing at the waistband of his sweatpants, removing the only thing preventing you from feeling him fully.

His sweatpants hit his bedroom floor with a soft and ignorable thud before his lips were on you again, tongue pressing against yours, tasting like you still.

You folded your legs around his waist, thighs clenching around him, squeezing him almost unconsciously as he crowded into you, one forearm on the pillow by your head, holding himself over you as he pushed into you.

He hissed, looking down between your bodies, eyes glazed as he watched how you fit together. You sobbed when he clutched at you tighter, fingers spreading through your waist as his hips stuttered with impatience and greed.

“Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head frantically, fingers spreading at his neck, angling his forehead against yours, pressing kisses to his jaw, cheeks, and lips, mumbling how it was alright as you felt yourself coiling tighter and tighter, and Heeseung’s rhythm becoming languid.

He came when you did, as defenseless and relinquished as he could be, pulling away almost as if it broke him to let you go.

Heeseung lay by your side, and when you turned to him the sun dazed you. He shielded your eyes, resting his fingertips lightly by the side of your temples as you moved closer to him.

This time around, none of you bothered about clothes, cuddling as the rhythm of your hearts slowly came in pace with the whole summer.

“I never have and won’t ever love anyone the way I love you,” he whispered, breath threading into your hair like a secret.

“When I have to drive you back — let me try talking with your parents.”

┈┈┈┈

The house on the hill seemed as imposing as it did a few weeks ago, the three-story construction shadowing both of you from the golden sun as you walked through the driveway. Heeseung said nothing as you stopped on the front porch, he said nothing as you turned to him, reaching to his neck, threading your fingers in the hair at his nape, and angling him down to you.

He let you smooth him, brushing your nose against his, catching his bottom lip between yours in the taunting kiss he knew never in million times grow tired of.

“I am here,” you whispered, so softly, he almost didn’t hear it beneath the sound of his throbbing heart.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, and it took all of your strength not to wilt as you brushed the pads of your thumbs along his cheekbones. Heeseung always spoke his confessions easily, almost unconsciously, leaving the words to scatter and ache within you all alone.

“You won’t,” you said. “You won’t ever lose me.”

“Of course, I consider a lot of what my parents tell me, but Heeseung,” you paused, allowing his name to scatter through the breeze, all soft, and yours. “No one can carry my life for me, at the end of the day, I want to be with you, and I will be.”

“There’s no one else in this world like you,” you whispered. It was a phrase stolen from him, yet, it seemed effective. Heeseung tried to prevent his happiness from materializing through his smile because he knew he would look like the fool he was for you. Yet, you could see his happiness in his eyes. The tiny dazzle they had as Heeseung reached for your waist, drawing you impossibly closer to him.

“I am ready,” he said.

You opened the door slowly, and your parents together with your grandmother were revealed to be in the living room. A deck of cards being quickly forgotten at the center table as your father stood up from one of the couches.

The afternoon light turned everything dazing.

“Me and Heeseung — we would like to talk with you,” you said.

There was a small pause, a small gap in time when no one moved, no one breathed. But then, your grandmother reached out, enclosing her hands on yours and Heeseung’s wrists, dragging both of you to the couch too.

“We should listen to what the youth has to say,” she smiled.

Heeseung would be lying if later on he said he remembered perfectly how the moment unfolded. He remembered you had taken his hand on yours, caressing the back of his hand. He remembered your father had sat back on the couch, running his hand through his hair. He remembered your mother nodding in encouragement. However, he had no memory of how he did start talking, how the story of his life simply was spread beneath the passing minutes.

Yet it did and when he finished he noticed everyone was listening to him, not letting the moment escape like him.

“How old were you?” your father asked. “When all of this happened?”

“Twenty-one.”

“It’s too young,” the man sighed, looking at your mother. They were silently talking, and Heeseung had this impression that he had encountered something too intimate — too unique of people who loved each other so he turned to you instead.

You had your gaze already fixed on him, eyes gleaming, lips curling on a smile.

“Do you love her?” your mother asked. You stopped all of a sudden, surprised by the sudden question, but Heeseung didn’t falter for even a second before he replied.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then that’s what matters,” she said. “I have been telling Y/N’s father, we surely do not approve your way of earning life, but it’s on both of you. I raised her wanting the best, and by the best, I mean her happiness — if you can guarantee me that. I don’t mind the rest.”

“And as long as you don’t race with her in the car,” your father added.

“I won’t, sir.”

“Please, no sir — we are all family here.”

By the time Heeseung’s BMW reached the invisible line dividing the road from the shore, the sun had dipped to touch the horizon, the last sunset of the summer illuminating the ocean with straps of gold.

Your parents already had taken the road back to Seoul. Meanwhile Hayoung, Sunhae, that Jungwon guy of hers, and well, Jake were getting ready to take the opposite turn and go further into the small county — back to the university’s dorms, and its routine.

However, despite the gloomy sensation of the end, it seemed unbelievably peaceful, and vast.

You didn’t wait for Heeseung to turn the engine off, you leaped from the BMW the moment he parked, already barefoot and rushing through the sand as your laugh echoed through the cooling breeze.

Heeseung followed you, slowly, taking in how the water was hitting your thighs, damping the hem of your dress. He wasn’t surprised when you turned to him, the camera he had won for you at the carnival in your hands.

It seemed a lifetime since you both had been there, it seemed like no time at all.

“It’s the last one in this film,” you informed him, eyes squinting as you looked through the lens at him. “Do it prettily.”

You gave him no time, the flash came off, confusing him for a second before he saw you still grinning as you brought the camera away from your face, and he took the last step to reach you, palms spreading through your thighs, lifting you to his waist.

“You seem too happy to someone who’s going back to Seoul to start another university semester,” he said.

“My boyfriend is going with me, so of course I am happy.”

“Is he?” Heeseung asked.

“Yes, going to spend whole weeks with me.”

“Seems like he spoils you a lot.”

“He does,” you confirmed. “He says from the moment he saw me he was gone, willing to do anything I asked for.”

He laughed, throwing his head back, allowing the sun to bathe his skin, his mussed hair, beams of light simply not being able to not reach for him. He was all crafted on the unconditional gaiety he deserved as he closed his eyes for a long moment before he straightened himself back to you.

Your fingers spread through the sides of his neck, scattering shivers through his spine.

Heeseung had never believed in love, at least not the real thing, not the capable of awakening his soul and bringing peace to his mind type of love.

It happened to other people, in other places, but not to him in the small county of Hongcheon. Yet, it did.

As you leaned on him, forehead resting against his, lips brushing in a tantalizing kiss, he knew, that’s exactly what you had given to him, and he hoped he could give it back to you forever.

#enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #lee heeseung smut #heeseung fluff #enha #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #yumi’s bibliotheca!

2K notes · View notes

gukkie01 · 1 year

Text

Pair: Racer! Jungkook x Police officer! Fem reader

Rating/Genre: 18+, smut (little to no plot), humour (I tried but failed again 😐)

Words count: 5 649

Warning: explicit content, oral sex (F receiving), semi-public sex (I guess??), penetrative sex, vaginal sex, jungkook is a very very hot racer, fingering, car sex, sassy Y/n, dirty talking, unprotected sex (pls don’t be dumb like them)

Summary: Y/n was starting to get bored of being a police officer. She needed the thrill. Thank god, Jeon Jungkook was there to help her.

Note: very much liked writing this one. It was inspired by a book I read on wattpad (that I forgot the name of :/) but I switched the roles and decided Y/n was going to be the police officer 👍. Hope you guys enjoy this one! Sorry for any typos :(

💞 quick little reminder that comments and likes are appreciated 🥹. Enjoy! 💞

Can’t Catch Me

Being a police officer was not your dream anymore. For the solemn reasons that it was boring as hell. Nothing like in the movies. There weren’t any arresting criminals and interfering in mafia cartels and saving the day.

No. It was sorting documents and sometimes, if you were lucky enough, arresting cars. But where was the thrill in that? The excitement?

Sitting down behind a desk clearly wasn’t saving anyone or helping in that case. It was just making phone calls, watching some people here and then to make sure they didn’t leave. You never had to interrogate anyone. You didn’t even have your opportunity at playing the mean cop!

Because there was no doubt that you would’ve been the mean cop. You let no one step over you or cross any boundaries.

So yeah, being a cop or police officer if you would, was not thrilling at all. It was a shitty job that paid just enough so you could survive the month. Just enough. In the end, you always had to ask yourself if it was even worth it. And most of the time, your answer ended up being no, not at all.

Your superior was not even—

Speaking of, you suddenly received a phone call from him. Picking up, you cleared your throat, trying to sound as professional and calm and cool as possible. “Y/n,” he said and shifted a little. “I need you in my office. Now.” He ended the call, not giving the slightest bit of details.

But you were used to that. Didn’t make it less annoying though.

With an exasperated sigh that earned a few amused glares from your coworkers, you got up and made your way to your boss’s office down a little hall. Three knocks and a barely audible ‘come in’ later, you were sitting down in front of him, Mr. Kang or Monkey Face as you liked to call him.

“Yes sir?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow and shifting to the edge of your chair. Were you in trouble? You couldn’t see how that was possible. How could sitting all day bring you in trouble?

Monkey Face, without once letting his eyes divert from his laptop, clicked his tongue. “I’m assigning you to a new route,” was all he said, typing away on his laptop and munching on his gum a little too loudly for your taste.

“What? Where?” The idea of finally leaving this hell of a place brought interest into your features as you wiggled more on the edge of your chair. It was embarrassing really. It wasn’t like you were arresting criminals but at least, you were going to be outside, arresting cars.

Give or take. And you decided to take.

“Route 30. You can go now.”

So, apparently, route 30 ended up being more of a stretch of highway rather than an actual route. By the time the moon set, you saw two cars, and they were exasperatedly slow. But there was no one else behind so you let it pass.

You were sitting inside your car, radio playing but you paid it no mind. It was just nice having some background noises that stopped you from falling asleep although let’s just say it wasn’t doing its job right.

When you glanced outside, the sky was pitch black; no stars, no moon. It was like someone purposely painted it black. It made the outside much darker and duller.

You sighed and decided to exit your car. Take some fresh air. You stood outside, kicking rocks with your boots and after some time, you even started playing soccer against yourself.

But you quickly got bored once again.

It turned out that being assigned to patrol a road was worse than you thought. Sitting in your car, switching the radio multiple times until you’d get so frustrated you would just shut it.

At one point, you got so bored you were on the verge of tears. Which was pathetic but true.

You started singing off-tune to a song that you vaguely remembered, singing as loud as you could before that too would become boring.

And that was when the universe heard your wishes.

Your ears perked up at the ramble of an engine, far in the distance but no doubt getting nearer pretty fast. Too fast. With your heart thumping almost loudly, you buckled your seatbelt and waited until the roaring got closer and closer and you finally saw it.

It flew past you so quickly it was like it was never there in the first place. You flicked on your lights as well as your sirens and started the car, following as closely as you could.

It was hard. Whatever car it was surely surpassed your own speed. And if it didn’t slow down any time soon, you’d lose sight of them eventually.

They made a turn to the left so quickly that you almost couldn’t follow. Your car had been on the verge of driving off the road. You weren’t really on the highway anymore but more on a small route hidden by immense trees.

You were breathless and nervous but driving that fast was the biggest thrill of your entire life and it was so liberating.

Finally, the car decelerated soon after, swerving into the side and parking swiftly. With how fast it had initially been going, you were impressed with how smooth it parked. Whoever it was behind the steering wheel, they were clearly experienced.

Slowly, all the while trying not to make a fool of yourself, you pulled up behind the bright neon blue car. You stepped out and approached the vehicul, taking in deep breaths. Be cool, be cool.

You knocked on the window three times before it slid down and goddamn it—

Your heart literally stopped beating for a fraction of a second when your gaze met a pair of doe eyes. Your own trailed lower until it stopped at a particular shiny object on the driver’s face. A lip piercing.

For a moment, you completely forgot what you were here for, too dazed by the same piercing being bitten and played with. You shook your head, regaining your composure. Or more like tried to.

Question number one.

“Do you know how fast you were driving?” You asked, trying to muster the scariest voice you could. His pierced eyebrow raised up and he smiled innocently. He had this little bunny smile that made you giddy despite trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry officer, I wasn’t paying attention.” He was amused. It was clear in the way his eyes twinkled and the mocking tone of his so fucking deep voice. You gulped a lump in your throat, trying with all your might not to look at any of his piercings and maintain your professionalism.

Question number two.

“License and registration?” You managed to ask without stuttering and the driver reached into the glove box compartment and handed you his papers.

You glanced down at them, letting your eyes trail along the information.

Jeon Jungkook. Born September 1st, 1997. He was a year older than you. His hair in the picture of his license was shorter and lighter. More like a soft brown whereas now, it was almost black. You didn’t know why you were even paying attention to that. You didn’t deign a look at his registration papers and gave them back to him.

He arched an eyebrow, clearly finding the whole situation amusing and to his advantage. He must have known just how much he had an effect on you right now.

Your inner thoughts consisted of:

I’m gonna get fired

But he’s so hot, I don’t care

I wish he could take me right here, right now

I am so getting fired.

Jungkook’s smooth husky voice quickly pulled you out of your thoughts. It was kind of funny how your heart dropped at how deep and soft his voice sounded. There was this little witty and sarcastic tone behind it.

“Aren’t you supposed to use these?” He asked, wiggling his license and registration in his hands. It was then that your eyes caught the tattoos hiding every inch of his skin. It was covering a big part of his hands and went up under his sleeve and you found yourself wanting to see more. You needed to see his entire full sleeve tattoo.

You cleared your throat, the air around you thickening by the seconds. You wondered if you were the only one feeling it. The tension. The want. The desire. Maybe it was only your brain playing tricks on you. Telling you that Jungkook’s eyes definitely trailed down your body, mentally undressing you.

Yeah, your mind was clearly playing tricks. Maybe it was his little grin tugging at the corner of his lips or his sweet cologne that made your brain alter like that. Surely, he had done something to you.

After a couple of seconds, you realized you still hadn’t answered him. You straightened up, flattening your hand on the top of his car, glancing down at him with what you hoped was your most serious glare. “I’ll let you off with a warning, Jungkook.” It was a little strange saying his name out loud, but you quickly found out that you liked it. A lot.

“But I better not see you here again or it’s a ticket,” you continued and saw his smile widening.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ok, your mind was definitely going a little crazy. You had just seen Jungkook sending a little wink your way. You probably imagined it. Yeah, it was all your brain.

He gave a little nod and started his engine once again. It roared loud and hoarsely and you had to admit that it was nice to the ears. You took a step back and watched as Jungkook drove away, ignoring your words from mere moments ago and going fast.

You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You had told Jungkook to never come back here but deep inside, you wished to see him again.

A week later, the job didn’t get better. If possible, it probably got worse. You hadn’t arrested one single car yet and all you did was sleep in your car. You knew that if your boss found out, he’d surely fire you and it would be over. He was paying you to work, not sleep. That would be his words.

You sighed for the millionth time this afternoon, whistling along the song playing on the radio. The sun wasn’t bright today. Your mood was down.

The radio was on as per usual and you could hear some of your coworkers communicating with each other, wishing you could do the same. You had nothing to say, nothing to warn. Today was pretty boring.

But then again, someone seemed to have heard you and a loud roar could be heard at the far end of the highway. Your heart thumped loudly and you felt your chest vibrate. Finally. You felt a smile curve up your lips as you turned your car on just as a vehicle flashed before your eyes.

You quickly drove away from behind the small bushes you were once parked at and started your pursuit. But it was quickly over. The car parked on the side road after a short while and you did the same a couple of meters behind. You stood outside your car, looking around quickly before jogging and knocking against the tinted window.

“Do you know how— Jesus! You?”

Fucking hell. Of course it was him. Jeon Jungkook. You should have known by the unique rambling of his motor and at the speed he went earlier. You should have known since the start. This job was seriously making you lose some brain cells.

Jungkook grinned. It was a little devilish and teasing and smug. He leaned on the inside of his door, looking up at you. Fuck. He had dimples.

“Hi to you too, officer…” his eyes trailed down to your badge, “Y/n.” The way your name rolled off his tongue so well made you shiver. His voice had gone an octave lower. It had that little rasp to it that almost made you drool. You secretly wished you could hear it right to your ears.

Just the thought of it gave you goosebumps.

“Jungkook, it’s the second time I catch you exceeding the speed limit. I have no other choice but to give you a ticket this time.”

You didn’t really want to. If you could, you’d let him off with another warning that would actually never get anywhere. He was too pretty to have a ticket. Too fucking perfect.

Jungkook’s wicked grin didn’t falter once even after your words. If it made sense, it seemed to only get wider. Was he finding this entire situation funny? It made your blood slightly boil. You felt like you were getting laughed at. Humiliated maybe. But there was also this little feeling, this tightness at the pit of your stomach when Jungkook got closer.

His cologne hit your strong and gosh, you wanted to breathe it forever. Bath in it. It smelled so good on him.

“Is there a way I could pay? I don’t have money right now.” His tone was suggestive and it took you a while before you got the proper meaning behind his words. And to say that you were shook was an understatement. You choked on nothing, face flushed and so warm, it was embarrassing.

Jungkook didn’t miss the way you suddenly avoided even looking at him, focusing on his steering wheel instead. You heard a low chuckle that shouldn’t have sounded this good. It shouldn’t have made your knees slightly fold.

Jungkook was an attractive man. You couldn’t deny it and it was pretty hard to miss. It was also hard not to stare at his piercings, at his pink lips that looked so soft or at the tattoos that were much more visible than last time. They peeked from his white top and reached the middle of his neck. They were simply magnificent. You wanted to let your fingers run along each of his tattoos.

But even with his fucking god-like appearance, you had to stop yourself from even thinking of further things about him. It was not professional to let your brain wander at these places.

So, in other words, you were a little too close to taking his offer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have a week to pay, so if you don’t have the money on you right now, it’s no worries.” You replied, mentally high-fiving yourself for keeping your cool.

Jungkook shifted closer, and the tip of his index grazed your arm. It was covered with your uniform but it still sent a wave of fire through your entire body. “But I would really like to pay now. I have something better than money.”

Shit.

Fuck.

No, no no.

He shouldn’t have said that. You were on the verge of saying ‘yes’. On the verge of letting him take you right here, in the middle of the highway. His words were very powerful and from the way his eyebrow arched, he knew it.

“Do you know what you’re implying right now, Jeon?”

Something in his eyes twinkled when you said his last name. He smirked. Literally smirked. “I know that very well, officer. So, what do you say?”

Oh my god.

You couldn’t say yes, even with how much your heart—or more like your cunt— begged for you to accept his offer. But that would only bring you trouble. You didn’t need that.

“I say we’re going straight to the station, Jungkook. Come out.” His smug expression dropped for a moment, and you saw how disappointed he was. Maybe he thought that his sexiness and his pretty voice and pretty tattoos and piercings would have saved him, and it almost did. But you had to remember that you were the mean cop.

He sighed and opened his door, standing up in front of you.

You breath hitched when you realized how easily he was towering over you. He looked so intimidating from this angle, you almost dropped to your knees. It was then that you realized he was wearing a white top that was so tight you saw the entire shape of his pecs. He had a racer vest on top—blue with black lines and his name written on the back.

He looked at you for a second, toying with his lip piercing before eventually turning around and putting his hands behind his back.

“You know officer, it seemed like you were ready to take my offer. What made you change your mind?” So cocky. His ego was so big and normally it would piss you off, but with Jungkook, it was almost like a part of his charm.

“Stop talking,” you ordered in your most stern voice although it only made him chuckle. You unclipped the handcuffs from your uniform, ready to wrap them around his wrists.

“So bossy. I like it.” You swallowed on nothing over and over again, losing focus. The more he talked, the more you were overthinking. You wanted to push him in his car and let him fuck you.

“Jungkook, I said stop talking.”

“You like having control, hm? I bet you’d love to control me, even for just a few minutes…” And then, well, you kind of snapped.

You handcuffed his wrists together harshly, your fast movements making him take a sharp breath. You turned him around, slightly pinning him to his car door. “I told you to stop talking. You’re only bringing yourself further into trouble,” your voice was simply a mere whisper directed to his face. Jungkook bit his lips, bowing his upper body to reach your level.

“One thing you should know: I love trouble,” he said and his voice was suave and smooth and warm on the side of your face. His knee touched your crotch and he pushed it between your legs. You sucked in a long breath and let out a muffled moan.

Well shit. You were doomed. Because now, you couldn’t stop thinking about how his knee felt so good pressed against your pussy and how much his cock would be even better.

“Seems like you’re enjoying yourself,” he commented, looking down at your lower half grinding on his knees. He pushed it up more and added some pressure to your core. You were wet. Wetter than you’d been in a while and all because of a little asshole named Jungkook. He had his proud face on, enjoying the way your face darkened in a deep shade of pink and the way you obviously shook. He knew you wanted to go further.

“Remove those handcuffs, sweetie.” He said suddenly and his face was dark, serious and so dominant. You really couldn’t say no to that face.

So you nodded, taking out a key from your front pocket, fumbling with it clumsily until the handcuffs were off and Jungkook’s hands found their way on your waist.

He didn’t wrap his arms around you. He simply let you feel his hands for a while, getting used to the burning feeling they left even on top of your entire uniform. It tickled as if he touched you straight through your clothes, right on your skin. Thinking about it, you were dying for some skin to skin contact. To touch his tattoos while he was pleasing you.

Jungkook’s eyes were staring straight into yours. You knew right then that he had been thinking about that moment for a while now and to say that it turned you on was an understatement.

You cleared your throat, trying to keep eye contact without failing but it was hard. His stare was deep and intense and the way he continually licked his lips made it difficult to keep your eyes up there. They looked so soft.

You briefly wondered how they tasted before Jungkook’s voice interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Are you gonna stare at them longer before you finally kiss me?” You hated how his voice made your inside wiggle and giddy and your heartbeat accelerate.

You hesitated, on the tip of your toes. You were so nervous. And Jungkook seemed to catch in, as with a wide grin, he plunged down, lips crashing against your, and teeth colliding. His cold lip piercing touched the corner of your lips and made you gasp.

He snorted into the kiss, this time, wrapping his arms entirely around your waist and exchanging your positions. You were the one pinned on his car. And quite honestly, you liked this position way more.

“I’ve been waiting to do that since the moment you knocked on my window.” His sudden confession stole the air out of you. Just like you, he had been waiting to touch you and feel you up.

Fucking butterflies. You hated how they swam in your stomach and made it difficult to keep up with the kissing without feeling like you would pass out. Jungkook was a good kisser. Scratch that, he was fucking amazing. He moved his lips with expertise against yours.

You guys weren’t really taking your time but you still enjoyed it very much. They way it was heated and impatient and filled with want made it all the more exciting.

You wanted him so bad.

“Let’s take this further in the car, hm?” He mumbled against your lips, struggling to open the car in the position you were both in, but after a while, you were swiftly thrown in the back seat.

Jungkook hovered over you like a scary predator ready to attack and eat its prey. And you were very glad to be his prey.

His right hand lifted up and stopped at your cheek, letting his thumb rub over the softness of your skin. He was in literal awe as he let his eyes trail around every feature of your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Can’t wait to ruin you.”

If it wasn’t hot enough, it became too much. You were sweating, desperate to get out of your clothes and let the AC of the car wrap around you. And even more desperate to get Jungkook to fuck you.

Jungkook’s rough hands explored every inch of your upper body until he got tired of your clothes. He sat you up and as fast as he could, succeeded in removing the top of your uniform. His eyes twinkled as if he was a kid that just received his favorite toy for his birthday.

You let him touch you everywhere, he squeezed and massaged your breast until you were whimpering. He pinched your nipples, earning multiple cries from you. He seemed to love every second of it, considering the smile—worth probably a million of dollars—plastered on his face.

He didn’t linger on your breasts too much, though. You could see in the way his fingers always found themselves at the waistband of your pants, that he was more excited about what was down there.

He looked up at you, stopping his hands that were ready to slip off the last item of clothing (except your panties) covering your body.

“Can I remove them?” He asked and it warmed your heart that he remembered to ask you before going any further. You gave him a shy nod and kept in your breath when the cold air hit your lower body, more specifically, your inner thighs.

Jungkook’s hands covered your skin almost immediately. His nails slightly scratched your skin as he ran his fingers up and down your entire legs. But his eyes were stuck on the wet patch on your panties.

“Aren’t you a little excited, huh? Soaked even when I barely even started.”

You moaned. It was a small moan that was more due to your embarrassment and your need for him to touch you, combined together.

It was music to Jungkook’s ears.

He let his finger push on your clothed core, breathing in loudly when he felt the dampness. And then he slipped his fingers in your panties without any second thoughts or any warning.

He settled on rubbing his middle finger on your clit, looking up every now and then at the way your face contorted in pleasure. You were moaning continuously, asking him for more but he wouldn’t give it.

Jungkook loved teasing you and even though you barely knew him at all, that information was pretty obvious from the way he enjoyed slipping in snarky little remarks from the first moment you saw him. He loved how your face became red instantly, how you avoided his eyes. He felt so confident around you.

You liked the tease. You liked feeling on edge every time his fingers almost entered your pussy but then he’d move them away.

“Be patient, babe. You’ll get what you want soon enough.”

Babe. You wanted to hear him say that again on repeat.

“Jungkook,” you mumbled with closed eyes, internally screaming when he avoided your hole again, “I need more. Please.”

He chuckled, stopping the motion of his fingers. “Look at you begging for me. I should have known you’d be an impatient little slut.”

You whined at his choice of words. Dirty talking never failed in turning you on, although it was clear that it depended from who.

And it seemed to fit Jungkook very well.

“Please,” you asked again, not even caring how pathetic you sounded.

“Aw, you’re asking so nicely.” He slipped one finger in and you involuntarily arched your back. “So good for me, so tight too.” Another finger. “Are you gonna come from just my fingers?” A third digit, this time, curling inside.

The stretch hurted a bit. But it was good. It felt so amazing. It only added onto the pleasure and after a while, it wasn’t even uncomfortable anymore.

Jungkook’s eyes were plastered on your pussy and the way you swallowed his fingers so well. You were so wet, it dripped down your inner thighs. He kept biting and licking his lips, moving his head down by the seconds.

And then you understood what he wanted to do so bad. He wanted to eat you out.

“Do it,” you told him, wiggling and pushing yourself closer to him, his fingers hitting a particular spot that had a little yelp come out of you.

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows, slowing down his fingers. You straightened up a little bit and took his wrist, pulling his three digits out of you. “I know what you wanna do. Eat me out. Please.”

He swallowed and nodded, pushing you further in the back seat and against the door. He properly positioned himself between your legs, tapping on your right thigh. “Open up,” he signaled, pulling them even more apart until you were wide open in front of him.

He licked his lips and plunged his head right in your crotch. Locks of his hair fell on your thighs, tickling you and making shivers run up your entire body. And then his tongue touched you. So warm. So soft. So pleasurable.

He licked the lips at first before slipping his tongue inside, grunting. He had mumbled something but with his face between your legs, the words came out muffled and unclear.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking good. Please don’t stop.” He dug his fingers in your thighs to keep them apart. He thrusted his tongue in and out of your cunt, sometimes, keeping it in deep, filling up all the right places, grazing all the right spots until you were wiggling, and legs wrapping around his face, bucking your head up.

He let you do it. Let you suffocate his face until your juice rolled down his mouth and he pulled himself away. White liquid covered his lips and something in your belly tightened at the sight.

It was so obscene but so hot. You pulled him by his vest to smash your lips on his and taste yourself. He slipped off his vest in the process, tearing down his top and struggling out of his black baggy pants, his boots already off.

He was left in those Calvin Klein sinful briefs that allowed you to see is bulge and fuck, he was big. Perfect length and thickness and that had you drooling literally. You wanted to touch every inch of his body. He was perfectly sculpted.

“I’m gonna fill you up so good, babe. Can’t wait to fuck you into oblivion.” He whispered in your ear and let you remove his boxers until his cock sprung free and stood proudly.

You were astonished and couldn’t tear your eyes away. You were never one to find dicks beautiful, but with Jungkook, you could stare at it and a suck it all day.

But not right now. There were more important matters. Like your desperation to have his cock fuck you.

“Jungkook, I need it inside. Please.”

Jungkook couldn’t get enough of your begging. He wanted to go as far as recording it and jerking himself off at night.

He aligned himself right in front of your entrance and looked up at you. “Are you okay? I really want to fuck the shit out of you but if you changed your mind—“

You cut him off with your finger, grinning at him. “I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life. So please, do it already.” Jungkook’s face brightened up at your response. He liked how you had shut him up and ordered him.

You pushed yourself against his cock just as he began slipping it in slowly, groaning and snuggling his face in the crook of your neck, biting right under your jaw.

“Oh my fucking god, I won’t last long,” he mumbled, sucking in multiple sharp breaths. One of his hands was holding himself beside your head and the other was wrapped around you, securing you in his grasp.

When Jungkook was fully in, he stayed still for a couple of seconds, enjoying the way your walls were so warm and perfectly wrapped around his cock. But then, he slowly slipped out until the head of his dick was at your rim and slammed back in. “Oh fuck—”. You bucked your hips up, meeting his thrust and letting out a scraped moan along with Jungkook’s groan.

“If I knew it was this good,” you started but cut yourself off when he picked up his pace, squeezing your flesh, “I would’ve accepted your offer from the beginning.”

He chuckled, looking down attentively as his cock disappeared in and out of your pussy, being soaked with your slick. It was warm and it drove Jungkook crazy. He wanted to stay inside forever.

“Well, I wanted to fuck you the moment I laid my eyes on you,” he admitted and slowed down his thrusts.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion until Jungkook flipped you over and you were straddling him. From this position, everything felt so different. He felt so much deeper, as if you could feel him with your hands if you touched your belly.

He gripped your hips tightly to the point when it almost hurted and glanced up at you. “Ride me like the naughty little slut you are, hm?” His voice was so hoarse compared to earlier, and so much more seductive and his sinful words rolled off his tongue in a way you found so satisfying.

You nodded and wrapped your hands around his neck. As you bounced up and down, your breasts followed the rhythm and they were practically jumping in Jungkook’s face, basically calling out to him to suck on them.

Which he ended up doing, letting go of your hips and licking, biting and squeezing the sensitive skin of your chest. He marked your entire cleavage until he was happy at how dark and red it looked.

Your pussy clenched around his cock, earning a strangle moan out of you two and then a moan from Jungkook when you clenched again.

“Is my little slut already so close?”

“Y-yes. It’s so good, I can’t hold it in much longer.” His hands grasped your waist and slid you down his cock until it was buried so deep, you couldn’t find the voice in you to make a sound. He was fucking you so well.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl. I think you deserve to come.” He mumbled, moving his head closer to yours and nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Please, Jungkook. I want to come so bad. Please please.”

“Fuck, begging like that, I don’t think I can last longer too.”

His words made you keep going, bouncing on his length over and over again to the point where you reached some overstimulation, shaking violently in his arms.

Your voice was loud and the only word that was heard was Jungkook Jungkook Jungkook.

Your cum ran down his length, to his thighs and made his skin glisten in white. Your head was dizzy and your eyes hazed as you glanced down at Jungkook. Your stomach kept tightening every time he moved his hips upward.

He came no longer after, slamming you down his cock and keeping you there for a long moment, moaning how good you were and how hot you looked.

You leaned on his chest after a moment, catching your breath although it proved to be a difficult task. Your lungs felt empty, devoid of any air. But it was fine because you had just been fucked by Jeon Jungkook. And it was the best sex of your life.

After Jungkook regained his composure, he wrapped his arms around you and looked up. One of your hands was running along his tattoos and the other was busy, combed in his sticky hair. Jungkook was a fucking piece of art.

“So,” he started, pushing a few locks of hair away from your face, “Do I still need to pay for that ticket?”

“Heck yeah.”

2K notes · View notes