Hana

a/n: i needed a needy jungwon fic…. also holy frick yall i haven’t written smut in months and i feel like ive lost all my talent 🤬 im not sure why i had so much difficulty writing this fic but ts better be fixed for next time…anyways hope yall enjoy :3

—

you barely put the car in park before the front door of the house swings open like someone kicked it.

jungwon stumbles out, supported on each side by two of his friends, sunghoon and niki, grinning like he just saw god.

or, apparently, you.

"THERE she is," he says way too loudly, pointing at you with a wobbling hand. "that's my girl."

you choke. his friends choke. jungwon doesn't notice, to busy admiring your form as you slam your car door shut in mild frustration.

you had your whole night planned out, your room was cleaned, all class work completed, no responsibilities to uphold. you made dinner and planned to rot on your couch and binge watch a new series you had started till you inevitably passed out.

however, that plan was soon ruined when your phone blew up with messages and calls from sunghoon and niki who begged you to come pick up your childhood best friend, a very drunk jungwon.

you walk up the driveway, jaw tight, hoodie half-zipped, t-shirt (his) hanging off one shoulder, hair messy from being ripped out of the couches warm embrace.

you are not in the mood.

but jungwon? jungwon looks like he just found heaven wearing shorts and crocs.

he breaks free from his friends with the grace of a baby deer and practically lunges at you.

"woah—jungwon—" you start, but he's already wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling you against him like you might vanish.

his face buries into your neck instantly. not your shoulder—your neck.

and he breathes. deep. your body shudders as you feel his warm breath fan across the sensitive area, knees trembling slightly as you position your hands to pull him away.

"fuck..." he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin, "why do you smell this good? it's like... illegal. i should report you."

you blink. "you're actually insane."

he nuzzles closer. actually nuzzles. his nose drags from your jaw to the base of your neck like he's trying to memorize you by scent.

"you smell like... warm," he continues, drunk and poetic. "and sweet. and... fuck, i can't even explain it." another inhale, "you smell like i wanna bite you."

your knees almost give out. this was..new.

you grab his shoulders to steady him, but he freezes when your hands touch him. slowly, his fingers slide down your sides until they find your waist again.

his grip tightens.

"your skin is so soft," he says suddenly, like it's a crime you haven't been arrested for. he rubs a thumb against the sliver of skin where your shirt rides up. "right here... it's so warm. feels nice."

"jungwon—" you hiss, glancing at his friends, who are watching with the expressions of people witnessing a car crash.

"what?" he lifts his head, blinking up at you all innocent and tipsy. "'m just appreciating. you're soft. it's distracting."

he leans in again, brushing his lips against your jaw by accident. or drunk aimlessness. you can't tell.

your breath catches.

jungwon smiles, slow and lazy. "i can feel your pulse. right here." his fingers tap your waist. "you always get like this when i'm close. it's cute."

you shove him lightly because you're seconds from combusting. jungwon was always touchy, but his usual touch which was innocent was replaced by something much darker.

"get in the damn car."

"only if you keep touching me," he says, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest like you're claiming him. his heart is pounding in his chest, almost as if it was going to escape him.

"jesus," you mutter, trying to pull away.

he doesn't let you. of fucking course.

instead he laces your fingers together, squeezes once, and says, soft and drunk and devastating: "i missed you tonight."

before you can respond, he leans forward and rests his forehead on yours—actually presses it there—and whispers, "your skin... your smell... you're making me crazy."

your heart is in your throat.

"jungwon," you murmur, "get in the car."

he grins like he won.

"okaaay," he sings, finally letting you guide him toward the passenger seat—but not without trailing his fingers slowly down your arm the whole way. like he's memorizing the shape of you by touch.

"you feel pretty too," he mumbles, his eyes dragging across your face. "not just look. feel."

you open the door and he plops into the seat. you lean across him to buckle the belt.

mistake.

your hair brushes his cheek and he shivers. actually shivers.

his hands lift—slow, clumsy—and settle on your hips.

"don't do that," he whispers, voice suddenly rough. "don't get this close unless you want me to think things."

you freeze, breath caught, inches from his mouth and you can't help but let your eyes dart down.

"think what?" you whisper back before you can stop yourself.

he smirks. even drunk, the boy knows exactly what he's doing.

"things i shouldn't say unless you kiss me first."

your entire body lights on fire. you rip yourself away from him and slam the door closed as you begin to feel your face burning.

through the window, jungwon watches you with a dreamy smile, cheeks flushed, fingers tapping the spot on his chest where your hand had been.

the second the door shuts, jungwon sprawls back in the seat like he owns it—like he owns you.

he's slouched comfortably, legs spread wide, hand already draped over the console like an invitation. or a trap.

"you drive slow when you're mad," he says as you pull out of the driveway. almost like he's studying you. like he enjoys it.

"i'm not mad," you lie. you were fuming. not only were you mad because your plans were thrown out the window, but now you had a cocky shit-faced bastard sitting in your passenger seat who wouldn't stop looking at you like you were his entire world.

"you're adorable when you lie," he counters immediately.

your jaw clenches, you shit your eyes momentarily to calm yourself down.

and that's when his hand finds your thigh.

not tentative. not testing. claiming.

his palm lands high—too high—and squeezes with purpose, fingers spreading over the soft inside of your leg like he's done this before in his head.

"jungwon—"

"shhh," he says, leaning back, eyes half-lidded. "your thigh feels good. let me enjoy it."

you inhale sharply.

he smirks—slow, knowing.

"see?" he murmurs. "i knew you'd sound like that."

his thumb drags up the inside of your thigh, higher, deliberate, slow enough to make you sweat but not enough to cross a line. he's hovering in the worst possible place.

"confident tonight, aren't you," you mutter.

"i'm always confident around you," he says simply. "i just pretend i'm not so i don't scare you."

your pulse stutters at his sudden confession.

his hand squeezes again—firm, warm, the kind of grip that makes your breath hitch.

"eyes on the road," he adds, voice dropping. "unless you want me to take over."

you almost choke. "take over what?"

jungwon laughs—low, husky, intoxicated in the way men get when they're turned on and fearless. "whatever you'll let me."

your grip on the wheel tightens. he notices, of course he notices.

"god, you're tense," he says softly, leaning closer until his breath ghosts over your cheek. "do i make you nervous?"

"no."

he grins. "another lie."

his thumb begins rubbing slow circles into your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you're warmest.

"stop messing with me, jungwon." you snap, the flush on your cheeks only getting darker.

"i'd rather mess with you than leave you alone," he murmurs. "you know how long i've wanted my hands here?"

your stomach drops at his words, swallowing harshly and controlling the urge to snap your head to the side to see his facial expression.

he tips his head, studying your reaction like a man savoring his favorite dessert.

"keep driving," he orders, voice low and wicked. "i'm not done touching you."

you open your mouth to argue—but his hand slides higher, fingers brushing the seam of your shorts.

your breath breaks. audibly.

jungwon smirks. "that's the sound i wanted."

"jungwon, seriously—"

"relax," he says, squeezing once—slow, firm, deliberate enough to send heat up your spine. "if i wanted to really touch you, you'd know."

you swallow hard, whatever that means.

jungwon leans in—close enough that his lips graze your ear when he speaks.

"you smell good," he whispers. "so fucking good. i noticed it the second you pulled up."

his nose trails down your jaw—not touching, just close enough to burn.

"sweet," he says softly.

"warm." another inhale.

"like you'd taste even better."

you shiver and he feels it.

"yeah," he murmurs, voice dropping to something darker. "bet you taste unreal."

your thighs tense up, big mistake. jungwon notices instantly.

"ohhh... she liked that," he purrs. he squeezes again, fingers pressing in just right. "you're so obvious, baby."

you nearly jerk the wheel. "don't call me that."

"why?" he asks. "you clench up every time i say it. you like when i talk like that, right baby?"

you're sweating bullets at this point, wishing that you lived much closer so you could get out of this car. jungwon on the other hand, he's thriving.

"stop," you whisper.

"make me."

you look at him and he's staring right back, eyes blown, full mouth curved into the cockiest, laziest grin you've ever seen on him.

his voice drops to a whisper that ruins you: "pull over."

"no."

"pull over," he repeats, calmer, warmer, dead serious. "or i'm going to keep touching you until you do."

your breath catches. his hand on your thigh slides half an inch higher—barely anything, but enough to make your heart slam against your ribs.

"last chance," he murmurs, his voice now hazy and clouded. "pull over, sweetheart."

and the way he says it—low, confident, hungry— makes your whole body go hot.

your hands are tight on the steering wheel. ten and two. eyes glued on the road. jaw clenched.

you can do this. you can get him home. you can ignore the way he's been touching you for the last ten minutes—his fingers drift higher on your thigh.

okay maybe you can't.

"jungwon," you say through a breath that's definitely not steady, "keep your hand still."

"my hand is where it is," he murmurs, sounding way too innocent for someone whose fingertips are now brushing the hem of your short sleep shorts.

"jungwon," you warn again.

he laughs softly and leans his head back against the seat, eyes sliding over to you with a lazy, drunk, confident smirk.

"you keep saying my name like that," he says, voice low, "i'm gonna think you like it."

your throat goes tight. you press your foot on the gas, just a little. just enough to get home faster.

but jungwon doesn't care about your plan. he drags his fingers up another inch—slow, deliberate, like he's giving you time to react.

you do. you choke on air.

"stop," you whisper.

"you don't sound like you want me to." you don't.

you squeeze the wheel. you try to focus on the street signs. you tell yourself you can hold it together for five more minutes.

his hand slides higher. higher and higher.

your hips jerk right when you feel his fingers graze your panty clad core and the car swerves. "fuck— jungwon!"

he hums, pleased. "you're shaking."

"because you— you're distracting me—"

"good." he squeezes the inside of your thigh, firm, almost possessive. "then pay attention."

you feel heat pool low in your stomach. your heartbeat snaps into something fast and stupid. he's drunk but he's too confident, too controlled. his thumb strokes slow circles against the soft skin there, dangerous and knowing.

"jungwon, i swear—"

"pull over."

you blink. "what?"

"pull over," he repeats, quieter this time, leaning in until his lips almost brush your cheek. "before i make you."

your breath stops. you're not even sure if he means with his touch or with your own reaction to it, but either way—you can't keep driving like this.

especially not when he drags his fingers up again, grazing the very edge of your inner thigh, so close it's practically illegal.

"jungwon—"

"pull over, pretty girl."

your stomach drops. you pull over.

the car rolls to a shaky stop, and the second it's in park he exhales sharply—like he's been holding himself back, too.

"good," he murmurs, turning his head toward you slowly. "that's better."

"you're drunk," you manage, your mouth parting when you see how predatorial his expression had become.

"yeah," he agrees, leaning closer, voice dropping into something dark and warm, "but i still know what i want."

his hand moves again. purposeful. slow. claiming.

"and right now," he whispers, breath brushing your ear, "i want to touch you so fucking bad."

your entire body lights up. heat floods your face, your chest, your stomach. you can't move. can't breathe. can't think.

his mouth hovers right by your jaw.

"you don't even know," he murmurs, "how hard it's been all night saying how good you smell and not being able to actually taste you."

your pulse stutters.

he laughs, drunk and bold and sinfully confident. "bet you taste even better."

the car is silent except for both of you breathing too hard. your hands are still on the wheel like you're afraid to move. jungwon's hand is still on your thigh like he owns it.

he looks at you. really looks. and then he shifts closer across the seat, slow like he's stalking you.

"come here," he murmurs, his legs spreading as if he was expecting you to climb over the console and situate yourself in his lap.

you freeze. "jungwon—"

"i'm serious." he nods at you lazily, eyes hooded, pupils blown wide from alcohol and whatever the hell you're doing to him. "c'mere for a second."

your voice wavers. "why?"

he lets out a low, drunk laugh. "you know why."

his hand moves higher again, and your breath just stops.

"jungwon, don't—"

"i want a taste," he says, plain and shameless.

your stomach drops straight through the floor.

"wha— what?"

he leans in until your noses almost touch. his breath is hot, alcohol-sweet, desperate.

"let me put my mouth on you. i can't promise i won't ever ask again but just this once" he whispers, eyes flicking down to your lips, then lower—way lower—before dragging back up again. "please."

your thighs clench involuntarily, and he notices. his smirk is slow and devastating, you can see his eyes lingering.

"yeah," he murmurs, "you want it too."

you shake your head because you're supposed to, because someone has to be the adult. "you're drunk—"

"i'm drunk," he agrees, "i'm not dead. i know exactly what i want."

his hand squeezes your thigh, harder this time—enough to make your breath stutter. enough to make everything inside you tighten.

"let me taste you," he says again, softer, dirtier. "just once."

you swallow. hard, "y-you said you can't promise it'll be the only time..."

his eyes darken instantly.

"yeah," he admits, brushing his thumb along the inside of your thigh like he's mapping out exactly where he wants to put his mouth. "because if i get one taste?"

he leans in closer, lips ghosting your jaw, your cheek, your neck—hovering but not touching.

"...i'm not stopping."

your breath catches. his mouth gets dangerously close to your skin, and he whispers it again—more desperate this time.

"please. lemme have you."

your body goes hot all the way through.

"i'll be good," he murmurs, already lowering his head like he's imagining the exact angle. "i'll make you feel so good, pretty. just— just let me taste you."

your knees actually go weak even though you're sitting. you don't answer immediately, your mind racing  as you finally realize what your oh-so innocent best friend was asking from you.

and jungwon notices—he fucking feels your hesitation—so he gets even bolder. he brings his free hand up, fingertips brushing under your chin, tilting your face toward him.

his voice is low, raspy, hungry. "say yes," he whispers. "please. i've been thinking about your body forever ."

your heart slams into your ribs. you're drowning. absolutely drowning.

and then—just to ruin you completely—he whispers the final blow against your cheek: "i swear, baby... you give me one taste and you won't walk straight tomorrow."

his words are still hanging in the air — you won't walk straight tomorrow — when you finally find your voice again.

barely.

"jungwon... no." you whisper it. weak. breathless. not convincing at all.

he hears the word, but he hears everything underneath it too. so he doesn't move. he just looks up at you from where he's leaning into your neck, eyes dark and glossy, mouth parted like he's two seconds from losing his mind.

"no?" he repeats softly.

you nod, almost as if you were convincing yourself more than him. "we're not doing this. you're drunk."

he presses his lips together in a slow, almost pouty line... then drags his hand up your thigh again like he's testing how much of that no is real.

"you're saying no..." he murmurs, fingers sliding higher, "but you're shaking so bad right now."

you grab his wrist—finally, some resistance—but your grip is nothing. he could move your hand whenever he wants.

he kind of likes that.

"stop," you say, but your voice cracks like a goddamn glass.

jungwon lifts his head. his eyes are hazy, heavy-lidded, but his expression is so intense it makes your stomach twist.

"don't push me away."

"jung—"

he leans forward suddenly, forehead touching yours, breath warm and uneven against your lips. "please don't push me away."

the shift in him almost knocks the air from your lungs. he's still drunk, still bold, but now there's this raw, aching need layered under every word.

"jungwon, you're not thinking straight—"

"i'm thinking about you," he shoots back instantly, nearly desperate. "i'm thinking about how fucking good you smell. it's driving me insane."

your fingers loosen around his wrist without meaning to.

he notices. he always notices. he slides his hand higher. too high. hot against your inner thigh.

you gasp. "jungwon—!"

that does it.

he groans—actually groans—like the sound rips straight out of his chest.

"don't do that," he whispers, sounding almost pained. "don't say my name like that if you want me to stop."

you try to pull back, but he follows. his mouth chases your skin. his breath hits your jaw, your cheek, your neck. he still doesn't touch you with his lips... but he is so, so close it's torture.

"i said no," you manage.

"and i heard you," he murmurs, voice rough, "but god, baby... the way you're breathing right now? you're killing me."

your thighs squeeze together.

jungwon sees. jungwon reacts.

he lets out the quietest, filthiest little laugh—low, breathless, hungry.

"you're trying so hard to be good," he whispers, fingers pushing higher until he's a hair away from where you're burning. "but you want me. you want me."

"i don't—"

"yeah?" he cuts you off, tilting his head so his lips graze the shell of your ear without touching. "then why are you clenching your thighs like that?"

heat surges through you, molten and humiliating.

you shove at his chest—not hard, not enough to move him but just enough to pretend like you're resisting.

he catches your hand. interlaces his fingers with yours. holds it against his chest so you can feel how fast his heart is beating.

"don't push me away," he whispers again, voice cracking now. needier. "please. i've wanted you for so fucking long."

your breath stutters.

his other hand leaves your thigh for a moment—just a moment—to grab your waist and pull you closer across the center console. not rough. not gentle. just drunk and desperate.

you land half on his lap, half in his arms.

his mouth falls open. his voice goes wrecked.

"fuck... you feel so good," he breathes, burying his face against your throat. "please, baby. please just let me taste you."

you swallow a moan. you actually swallow a moan.

he hears the sound anyway, muffled as it is and that's when jungwon truly loses it.

he fists the fabric of your shirt. pulls you in tighter, like he's afraid you'll evaporate if he loosens his grip.

his lips hover over your neck—trembling, hungry, one second from crossing the line.

"i'm begging you," he whispers, voice raw. "just one taste. just one. i swear..."

he laughs weakly against your skin, breath shaky. "...i swear i'll lose my fucking mind if you don't let me."

he tugs at you again and the moment you land fully on his lap, something in jungwon snaps. his hands grip at you, pushing you around till you're forced to straddle his lap. his hands fumble slightly, pressing the lever at the side of the seat so you were practically laying against him causing you to yelp in surprise.

you feel it. your breath catches as he presses his face to your neck again—only this time, he doesn't stop at hovering.

he kisses you. soft at first. warm. barely-there. then deeper. slower. hungrier. a low, desperate sound rumbles out of him—almost a whine, almost a groan—like he's been holding this in for years and the dam finally cracked.

"jung—won—" your voice fractures, fingers clutching his shoulders.

but he's gone. completely gone.

he drags his mouth along your pulse point, lips open, breath shaking like he can't believe you're real. each kiss is wetter, hotter, more desperate than the last.

your whole body lights up.

"fuck..." he whispers against your skin, voice breaking. "you taste— you taste so good already, i can't— i can't stop—"

your heart stutters.

his hands grip your waist, not exactly gentle, pulling you closer, pulling you into him like he's starving.

then his mouth opens wider— his tongue grazes your neck.

you gasp, your eyes squeezing tight when you feel his thick bulge press into you in combination to his tongue laving at your neck.

he moans. outright moans into your skin, a needy, ruined sound that makes your legs weak even though you're sitting.

that's when you realize he's truly not stopping.

he's trembling. he's breathing too fast.

his eyes flutter open and they're glossy, blown wide, dark with something feral and desperate.

"jungwon— stop—" you stammer, pushing at his chest.

he doesn't even hear you.

he keeps kissing lower, toward your collarbone, his lips hot and messy and hungry.

"please," he whispers into your skin like he's praying. "please let me— let me taste you properly..."

your thighs instinctively press together, a small groan escaping his mouth when he feels your core press into him.

he makes a broken sound, hands sliding from your waist back to your thighs.

"don't do that," he whines, fingers pressing into the soft inside of your thighs. "don't close them— please— please—"

you push at him harder. "jungwon, stop— we can't— you're drunk—"

he lifts his head finally, but only to look at you, eyes shining, lips swollen from kissing your neck.

he looks wrecked. ruined. desperate in a way you've never seen.

"i'll be careful," he says, voice cracking. "i'll be so good— i swear— just... just let me in."

his hand slides up your thigh again and you grab his wrist instantly, panting. he whines—actually whines, the sound high and breathless.

"don't," he pleads, leaning forward as if he's chasing your mouth now. "please, don't stop me— i've wanted you for so fucking long— i can't— god, i can't think straight—"

you try to shift off his lap, but he tightens his grip on your thigh, head dropping back into the crook of your neck like he's clinging to you.

"just— just let me taste you," he whispers again, voice hoarse, completely gone. "i want you so bad— i need... i need your thighs open for me, please—"

your breath punches out of your lungs. you shove him one more time—harder this time—and you manage to pull yourself off his lap just enough to break his mouth away from your skin.

jungwon actually gasps.

he chases after you instinctively, fingers flexing like he's reaching for you without thinking.

his voice comes out broken.

"baby— please— don't—"

you hold him back by the shoulders, panting, heart racing. he looks up at you with glassy eyes, flush high on his cheeks, chest rising and falling like he just ran miles.

"come back," he whispers, voice raw. "i'll beg— i'll fucking beg if you want— just come back. i just need one taste. one. please— please— i'm losing my fucking mind—"

your stomach lurches. your thighs press tight again and jungwon notices, he feels it.

his head falls forward, forehead against your collarbone, breath shaking.

"please," he whispers one last time, voice crumbling. "just let me have you. i swear i'll be gentle. i swear i'll make it so good for you... just open your thighs for me, baby, i'm begging—"

you keep him at arm's length, palms against his shoulders, chest heaving, heart in your throat.

jungwon looks destroyed.

hair messy, lips swollen, eyes glassy and blown wide with something deeper than lust—something raw. something that's been living under his skin for a very long time.

his breath shudders as he tries to lean forward again, but you hold him there.

"jungwon," you whisper, "just—stop for a second."

he shakes his head instantly. violently. "i can't."

his voice splits open on the last word. "i can't stop. i can't—" he drags in a breath, shoulders trembling. "you don't understand what you're doing to me."

you swallow hard. "you're drunk—"

"i'm drunk and i'm honest," he snaps, voice cracking. "i can't lie right now even if i wanted to."

you freeze and that hits harder than it should.

his hands lift—slow, shaking—and hover near your waist but don't grab. he's bracing himself on the seat, gripping the upholstery like he needs something to anchor him.

then he looks at you.

really looks.

"i've wanted you for so fucking long."

your breath catches. his chest rises sharply, like saying it hurt.

"you don't get it," he whispers, voice soft and rough and absolutely ruined. "you walk around looking so— so soft. so pretty. so fucking... touchable."

your stomach flips.

"and you don't even realize it," he goes on, words tumbling out with no control now. "you don't know how crazy you make me."

your hands loosen on his shoulders—just a little.

he sees. he swallows hard and keeps going.

"every time you sit next to me," he breathes, "i stare at your thighs and think about putting my mouth on them. every single time." heat shoots through you so fast you almost choke on it.

"jungwon—"

"i know," he whispers, "i know i shouldn't say this. i know i'm drunk. but i— i can't hold it in anymore."

his voice wavers. his eyes flick down your body for a split second—slow enough to feel like a touch.

"you always look so fucking soft." his jaw tightens, breath shaking. "so perfect. so sweet."

your pulse stutters.

he laughs once—quiet, broken, shameful. "i think about tasting you every night. how you would squeeze my head in-between your thighs and how they would shake and the noises you'd make." he's panting at this point, his eyes squeezing shut.

your knees actually go weak.

"don't—" you try, but the word falls apart halfway.

jungwon lifts a hand again, hesitates, then rests it gently—gently—on your knee. so different from the desperate grabbing earlier. softer. more honest.

"you have no clue what you do to me," he whispers. "i look at you and i just— i want you. i want every part of you."

his eyes rise back to yours, glossy and bare and unguarded.

"i want the sounds you'd make," he breathes. "i want the way you'd taste on my tongue. i want your thighs around my head. i want all of it. i've wanted it for so fucking long."

your hands slip off his shoulders completely. you don't know when your breath left your lungs but it still hasn't come back.

jungwon bites his lip. hard. like he's trying to stop more from spilling out. but it doesn't work.

his voice drops to a whisper that hits you like a punch: "i don't just want your body."

you blink.

his words tremble. "i want you."

you feel your heart drop into your stomach.

"i watch you all the time," he says, voice unsteady. "the way you talk, the way you laugh, the way you get mad. fuck— the way you walk into a room like you don't even know everyone looks at you."

your throat tightens.

"i look at you like you're mine," he admits, breath catching. "even though you're not. even though you probably never will be."

your chest actually hurts. his voice cracks completely: "i just... i want you so bad it makes me sick."

you stare at him—soft hair falling in his eyes, cheeks flushed, lips parted, breathing too fast, hands trembling as he reaches for you again.

this time he manages to touch you. a shaky palm against your waist.

"baby," he whispers, sounding like he's breaking. "say something. please."

you open your mouth to say something—anything—to ground him, but jungwon is already leaning back in, chasing your lips like he physically can't stop himself. his breath trembles against your skin, warm and desperate, and his fingers curl harder around your waist like he thinks you'll disappear if he loosens even a little.

"w-wait—jungwon, slow down, i'm tryna—"

"don't—" he cuts you off on a ragged whisper, nose brushing your cheek as he tries to kiss you again. "don't pull away from me. please. just—just let me have you."

his voice cracks. actually cracks.

his eyes are glossy, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed that soft rose-pink that always gives him away. he looks ruined already, like you've been doing something to him instead of just sitting here trying to breathe.

"jungwon," you murmur, trying to steady him with a hand on his chest, "you're not thinking straight—"

"i am," he insists, shaking his head, lips brushing yours because he can't stop leaning forward. "god, i am, i promise—i've been thinking straight for months and it's always the same thing. you. you on top of me. you using me however you want."

your fingers twitch.

his eyes flick down, immediately catching the movement like a starving animal catching scent of food.

"see?" he whispers. "you want me too. i can feel it."

you try to speak but he's already going again—mouth grazing the corner of yours, breath shaky, almost panting because he's so wound up it's pathetic.

pathetic and so, so pretty.

his grip slides lower, fingers pressing into your hips, guiding you closer like instinct is taking over. "just— just let me be good for you," he begs, voice cracking again. "you d-don't even need to do anything. you don't have to take care of me. just—" his forehead drops to your jaw, hot, needy breath fanning your throat. "please use me."

you swallow. hard.

"jungwon..."

he makes a sound. a broken whine into your neck that makes your spine stiffen.

"i'll do anything," he says, voice thready, trembling, "anything you want. you can put me wherever you want me and i'll stay there. i'll listen. i'll be quiet— or i won't, if you like hearing me beg. i'll be whatever you want. just... don't tell me no right now."

your heart kicks painfully.

his arms wrap fully around your waist now, pulling you against him like he's bracing for impact—like if you reject him he'll completely collapse.

"jungwon, you need to breathe—"

"i don't need to breathe," he whispers, voice turning low, hungry, unhinged. "i just need you. i just want your thighs around my head, i want your voice in my ears, i want—"

"jungwon."

he freezes, but only for a heartbeat. then he lifts his head. he looks at you like you're oxygen and he's drowning. his lips part, his breathing shaky, pupils blown like he's seconds from losing the last bit of control he has.

"please," he whispers, leaning in again, mouth barely brushing yours, begging in every possible way a person can beg. "just let me taste you. let me be your mouth. i'll do everything. i'll be good—so good for you, i swear."

his thumbs stroke your hips desperately.

"just say yes."

your breath stutters, just once, but it's enough.

jungwon feels it like a shockwave. his whole body tenses beneath your hands, head lifting from your neck, eyes snapping up to your face like he heard a door unlock.

"...what was that?" he whispers, voice low, raw, hopeful in a way that makes your stomach flip. "do it again. please."

you swallow, but it's loud in the quiet room. too loud.

his fingers tighten instantly—reactive, instinctive—digging into your hips in a bruising, claiming way that doesn't match the sweet, shy café owner you know. this is the version of him that lives underneath: needy, starved, a little feral.

"jungwon," you breathe, barely getting the word out, "you need to calm down—"

"i can't," he cuts in, voice breaking. "not when you sound like that. not when you're this close. i've wanted you for so long i—" he chokes on the rest, leaning in until his forehead presses into your cheek. "just tell me i'm not imagining this. tell me you want me too."

you try to pull back. big mistake.

he lets out a sound—somewhere between a whimper and a groan—and his grip snaps tight around your waist, dragging you right back into his lap like he can't bear a centimeter between you.

"don't go," he pleads, breath shaking. "please don't go, don't do that—i'll be good, i swear, i'll—i'll stay right here, i'll keep my hands where you want them, just don't pull away again—"

"i wasn't leaving." your voice is barely a whisper.

jungwon freezes. absolutely still.

then his head lifts slowly, eyes glossy and blown wide as he searches your face like he's scared he misheard.

"...you weren't?" he breathes.

you shake your head once. and that's it.

whatever thin thread of control he had snaps.

a broken sound slips out of him as he surges up, kissing you again—messier this time, hungrier, like he's trying to pour every bottled-up year of wanting into a single touch. his hands travel up your sides, hesitating only long enough to make sure you're not pulling away, before gripping the back of your shirt like he's terrified you'll disappear.

you gasp, fingers instinctively grabbing his shoulders for balance.

he feels it. he feels you holding onto him and it destroys him.

"please," he whispers into your mouth, hot and trembling. "just—say it. say i can have you. say you'll let me—" his breath catches, a shiver running through him as he presses his forehead to yours, "—let me show you how good i can be for you."

your pulse kicks. your thighs tighten around his.

his eyes drop instantly, pupils dilating so hard they practically swallow the brown.

"god," he murmurs, "you're killing me."

he kisses you again, slower this time, more certain, one hand sliding to your waist with careful reverence—as if he knows this is the final moment, the tipping point, the part where you either shove him away or—

you take his jaw in your hand.

not rough. not gentle. just decisive.

jungwon's breath punches out of him. his eyes flutter, lips parting like he's about to beg again, but no sound comes out.

you look at him. really look at him.

flushed cheeks. swollen lips. eyes glassy with desperation. every inch of him trembling under your touch, waiting for permission like a prayer.

"jungwon..." you murmur, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth, "you want me that bad?"

he nods so fast it's almost frantic.

"i'll do anything," he whispers. "anything you want. just—let me. let me have you. let me be yours. tell me yes and i'll—" his voice cracks again, "...i'll make you feel so good."

your chest rises. falls. slow. then—you lean in, brushing your lips against his ear.

"okay," you breathe.

jungwon goes completely still. then he shudders—full-body, uncontrollable, like he's been hit by lightning.

"o-okay?" he repeats, voice breaking, knees trembling beneath you.

"yes."

and just like that—he loses it.

his hands fly to your waist, his breath hits your neck, a desperate, wrecked sound escaping him as he finally—finally—lets himself touch you the way he's always wanted.

you feel his mouth opening against your skin, right at the spot he's been dying to taste. his hands find themselves gripping at you feverishly, gripping your thighs, your waist, your butt.

"so good..s-so good," he almost murmurs to himself as begins to rock his hips, using his grip on your butt to push against him.

you couldn't help but let a whimper escape you when you feel the outline of him thrust against your clit, letting him move you around.

his grip on your butt is a vice. not rough, exactly, but firm, utterly non-negotiable. he pulls you in so tight you can feel the strained trembling of his muscles, crushing your slick core against the insistent, painful heat of his pants.

"oh god," he whimpers, the sound raw and shaky against your neck. he drags his mouth along your pulse point, leaving a wet trail. "you like that?" his voice is thick, full of drunken wonder and possessive triumph.

you try to answer, but the words are swallowed by a choked whimper. he groans, a needy, ruined sound, taking it as consent, and then he moves.

he doesn't bother with the console. he scrambles up, grabbing your hips, and pushes you over the barrier with reckless, sloppy urgency. you land in a trembling, messy heap across the drivers seat, your legs falling open, shorts pushed up and offering him everything.

he's not gentle. he just needs access.

jungwon is half-kneeling, half-sprawled over the console, his face right between your thighs. he looks absolutely destroyed: sweat beading on his temples, hair clinging to his forehead, his pupils wide and black.

"i knew it," he whispers, breath shaky and hot. he reaches out a trembling hand, his fingers spreading wide over your inner thigh, right near your heat.

his grip is firm, claiming, pressing in just enough to bruise later. "you're so warm right here. you're shaking, pretty girl."

he nudges your shorts crotch to the side with his nose, whimpering when the fabric resists, until your damp, exposed core is right in his line of sight. "mine," he declares, the word a slurred, drunken promise.

he leans down, and you gasp as his tongue, thick and wet, sloops right over the thin, damp fabric of your underwear. he doesn't care about the fabric, he just needs the taste. it's messy, sloppy, and overwhelming.

"fuck, you taste so good," he hisses, pulling back an inch, his eyes dark and glazed. he looks absolutely starved. "sweet. like i knew you would be. i need to see it."

he fumbles at the waistband of your shorts, shoving them down hard until they bunch up around your knees. he's not careful. he just needs you bare.

he settles right between your thighs, pulling your knees wider with his needy hands. he takes a moment just to look—his eyes tracing the wetness, the flush, the vulnerable, beautiful mess you are.

"open your legs for me, sweetheart," he orders, his voice a raw, low rasp. he doesn't wait for you to comply, his hands squeeze your inner thighs, forcing you wide open. "i want to see how much i ruined you."

then he's there. his mouth clamps down, and the feeling is instant, consuming. his tongue is relentless, moving with a desperate, sloppy urgency that is entirely focused on your pleasure. he's not trying to be sophisticated, he's a drunk man finally tasting the obsession he's held for years.

you cry out loud, a sharp, uncontrolled sound that hits the ceiling of the car. he groans, a thick, muffled sound of pure satisfaction against your slick skin. his hands slide down, gripping the back of your thighs and squeezing, pulling you tighter onto his mouth, forcing your legs to tremble.

"say my name, baby," he begs, the words vibrating against your core as he licks harder, faster. "say you love how sloppy i am for you. i'm right here. i'm yours. you can use my mouth however you want. whenever you want."

he pushes deeper, his breath hot and uneven, panting in the short gaps between desperate licks. he's completely focused on driving you higher, his movements aggressive and needy.

"you're so wet," he whispers against your skin in disbelief, "you're soaking my mouth. i'm drinking you. god, you're making me so fucking messy."

you're trembling violently, your fingers digging into the seat, your hips involuntarily thrusting down onto him. he anchors you with his strong hands on your thighs, pushing you back up every time you try to pull away, forcing you to take his tongue.

he speeds up again, mercilessly, his tongue pushing, flicking, sucking with a rhythmic intensity that brings that familiar pit in your stomach to rise.

"just for me," he murmurs, his words barely audible over the loud, wet sounds he's making with his mouth full of pussy. "cum for me, pretty girl. i want to drown in you."

he gives you a final, deep, punishing drag, and you completely shatter. your back arches, your body going rigid as a shaking moan is torn from your throat.

he doesn't stop. he holds you there, letting you tremble against his mouth, his arms tight around your thighs, ensuring you feel every last ripple of the climax.

when you finally settle, panting and wrecked, he keeps his face buried in your lap for a long, heavy moment, simply tasting his victory.

he lifts his head. his mouth is wet, his lips swollen, his eyes dark with a feral mix of lust and possessive adoration. you almost came again at just the site of him.

he smiles—slow, lazy, utterly ruined—and his fingers slide down, reaching for the waistband of his open jeans.

jungwon lifts his head, his face flushed and wet, his eyes shining with feverish anticipation. he's breathing hard, his lips swollen and glistening. the messiness of his desire is plastered all over him.

"you said yes," he whispers, voice thick and ragged. he lets out a pathetic little choke of anticipation. "what do you want? tell me. i'll do it right now."

his hands, still firm on your inner thighs, tighten as you look at him. he's exposed, kneeling between your spread legs, panting, completely at your mercy.

you lean forward, placing a hand on the back of his neck, running your fingers roughly through his damp hair. not knowing what was coming over you, you pull him closer.

jungwon instantly melts into the touch, a low, needy whine escaping his chest. he presses his face against the inside of your thigh, his breath shuddering.

"god," he mumbles into your skin. "that's it. you're touching me. don't stop."

you use the leverage on his hair to tilt his head, forcing him to look up at you again.

"you said i could use you," you whisper, the authority in your voice making his eyes widen. "i'm still wet, jungwon. and you're hard." your eyes dart down, his cock straining against his pants.

he swallows hard, his breath catching. "yeah. take it. take me."

he fumbles with the rest of his jeans, peeling them down just enough to expose the thick, rigid length straining against his boxers. he doesn't take his eyes off yours, searching for approval. he's so desperate for your gaze he can barely breathe.

"you're going to touch yourself," you say, your voice low and commanding.

jungwon freezes, a shock of confused, thrilled desperation hitting his face. "w-what? on your lap?"

you shake your head, using the hand still on his neck to push his head lower, his damp hair brushing against your inner thigh.

"no. you're gonna watch me. and you're going to obey."

he lets out a broken, pathetic sound, his whole body trembling. he's confused, aroused, and absolutely ruined by the instruction. "i—i can't look away. i won't."

"i'm not telling you to look away, im telling you to watch."

you press your hand down on the nape of his neck, demanding his stillness. you push yourself closer to him, now sharing the passenger seat with him as half of your body lays against the console while your legs over his lap.

his erection is now pressing firmly against his boxers, right near your hip, a hot, agonizing distraction.

you reach down and slide your hand down your aching core, fingers moving slowly and deliberately towards your still-sensitive cunt, making sure he sees every agonizing movement.

jungwon lets out a loud, strangled gasp. his eyes are fixed on your fingers, wide and glossy. he's panting, his lips parted, unable to move a muscle. "do you like watching me, jungwon?" you ask, your voice soft and challenging.

he shakes his head violently, a deep, frustrated groan rumbling in his throat. "i hate it. i hate that i can only watch. please—"

you ignore the plea. you slide your fingers home. the movement is slow, wet, and direct.

jungwon cries out, a raw, needy sound of agony and pleasure. he squeezes his eyes shut, his hands flying up to grip the back of the passenger seat, his knuckles white. his entire body is shaking.

"don't look away," you command, your voice hard. "i told you to watch me. i want you to see how easy it is for me to get off when you're begging like this."

his eyes snap open, dark and tortured, fixed on your hand. he's breathing in shallow, panicked gasps.

you start to move your hand. slow, focused, relentless. you look down to see him rubbing himself through his boxers, grinning when you see the large wet spot.

seeing your face jungwon takes it as permission to touch himself, freeing himself of the restraints of spandex and allowing his hand to grip himself all while watching your fingers disappear into your cunt.

you watch mesmerized, the moonlight peaking through the window and directly on to the sweaty and whiny mess that was jungwon. your tongue darts out instinctively as you watch him fuck his fist, his thick cock pink as cum dribbles from his tip.

jungwon is completely undone. he starts to make frantic, whiny noises, choked little sounds of desperation that he can't control.

"fuck, fuck, you're so dirty," he manages, his voice thick with tears and lust. "stop—please—i can't—"

you increase the speed, your focus absolute, riding the high, needy energy radiating off him. "you said you'd do anything," you remind him, moving your hips slightly to grind against the top of his head. "now beg me to stop. beg me to let you take over."

he lets out a broken, anguished sob, his composure completely gone. he doesn't know whether to grab you or run. he's completely helpless.

"i'm begging you!" he cries, the sound pathetic and raw. "please, i can't watch, i need to touch you—let me, please—i'll be good, i'll be quiet, just let me use my hands, i'm gonna explode—"

he's panting, shaking, tears streaming down his face as he watches you bring yourself to the brink again. he's utterly destroyed by his own subservience.

you use his breakdown as fuel, focusing entirely on your own pleasure, riding the intensity until the tremors start again.

just as you feel the your high approaching, you snap your head back and issue a final command, your voice rough with impending orgasm. "now, jungwon!"

he lets out a final, agonizing moan, arching his back violently against the seat, his hips slamming forward, eyes rolling back as he loses himself completely, spilling hot, messy release right against his boxer briefs.

you watch his flushed face, streaks of cum painting his hoodie and fist and you wish you could take a picture and have it engraved into you.

the car is silent except for the frantic, ruined sound of both of your gasping breaths. he collapses, his forehead hitting your inner thigh, trembling uncontrollably. he's spent, ruined, and completely gone.

"fuck," he whispers, his voice thick with tears and the sheer, overwhelming mess of his release. "i love you. i love that you did that to me."

his sudden words had you gasping, a deep flush covering you and you couldn't help but murmur the words back as you watched him jitter.

the intensity broke slowly, like a fever finally receding. jungwon slumped against you, his breathing ragged but evening out. the desperation was gone, replaced by bone-deep exhaustion.

he didn't lift his head, just shifted until his cheek was resting against your collarbone, his arms settling around your waist in a loose, purely comforting hold. he was a heavy, dead weight in your lap.

"i'm so sleepy," he mumbled into your shirt, the words muffled and childish.

you ran a gentle hand over the damp hair at the back of his head. "i know. let's go home."

he sighed, a deep, shuddering sound of pure relief. "stay right here."

you didn't respond with words, just kept running your fingers through his hair. he closed his eyes, his breathing growing slow and even against your skin.

you swallow harshly as you begin to peel his grip off of you, attempting to retreat back to the drivers seat so you could drive back home.

after successfully doing so, you hazily pull up your shorts and start the car, glancing at jungwons sleeping form. a soft smile gracing your lips before a pit in your stomach begins to grow.

just as you were about to pull out from the side of the road, your eyes catch a figure sitting 10 feet away from your car on a bench. mouth agape and body tilted, the elderly man seemed completely and utterly shocked at whatever he had witnessed.

well fuck.

You should have just faked a stomachache or something. Common sense should have been enough to tell you that a guy who spends his afternoons at collegiate level competitive soccer practice would have an upper hand on the athletic front. 

But there’s no use in mulling over the what ifs now, not when he’s probably going to catch up to you any—

The feeling of a warm hand encircling your wrist has you spinning on your heel, stray rain droplets flying from your skin with the force. 

“___!” To your credit, he sounds out of breath, even if only slightly. “God, will you just—” You don’t miss the way his features fall a fraction of an inch when you twist out of his grip, retracting your arm back into safer territory. “Just hold on a second.”

Every instinct, every bone is screaming at you to ignore his request and high tail it out of here, but you have a feeling he’s not going to let you get very far. And if he does, he’ll just ambush you tomorrow after class or during your library study time that’s become increasingly synchronized with his own over the past few months. 

It's almost unbelievable really, in hindsight. Yang Jungwon came into your life in a quiet sort of way, but once his presence was established, it sure was hard to miss. It’s not that the two of you didn’t like each other necessarily. You just never could quite seem to see eye to eye. He was abrasive where you were gentle and quiet where you were loud. Neither of you were ever particularly polarizing people—quite the opposite in fact—but something about your personalities just made the two of you clash right from the get go. 

There would be a sarcastic quip here, a roll of the eyes there, just little reminders that the both of you were on opposite ends of the spectrum in just about everything. It’s almost ironic, really, the fact that the two of you shared so many mutual friends given the initial distaste you had for one another. 

At first, both of you had wordlessly settled on a mutual agreement to just avoid each other all of the many times your paths crossed in class or at parties or during library study groups. You’re not even really sure when that changed, can’t pinpoint the moment when things started to shift, but over time, your mutual distaste started to grow into a mutual understanding. Under the surface, you found that the two of you actually had a lot in common. You just went about things in different ways. 

And progression was only natural from there. Before long, you were inserting yourself into his conversations at parties instead of avoiding them entirely, answering his discussion questions during study group instead of keeping your head down, and sliding down into a seat not too far from his the few times you shared a class instead of somewhere across the room. 

But the real kicker had come roughly three months ago, at the beginning of the fall semester. Students in the same contemporary literature course, you and Jungwon had been paired up as semester-long project partners on the very first day. 

And from there, mutual understanding was quick to transform into something that looked a whole lot like friendship the more you stared at it. Even if your relationship was still a little rough around the edges, even if the two of you rarely shared a similar opinion and had a particularly strong inclination towards petty fights and ridiculous arguments, Yang Jungwon and you were, for lack of a better term, friends. 

And it probably wasn’t entirely fair of you to avoid him for a week, to make him literally chase you down in the middle of a rainstorm just for a chance to get a word in sideways, but it really wasn’t your fault. Not after what Jay told you last week. And especially not after the damning text message you read with your own two eyes. 

Still, you figure there’s no use in running anymore. At least not now. 

Jungwon seems to sense your defeat, and when you make no further move to escape, he relaxes slightly, shoulders slumping as the tension around him dissipates just a fraction. With a set jaw and wide eyes, he reaches out like he’s going to grasp your wrist again before he thinks better of it. Instead, he settles on nodding his chin in a jerky sort of way towards a nearby veranda, silently encouraging you to follow his lead as he makes his way toward it for some much needed shelter from the torrential downpour. 

But even a reprieve from the pelting rain isn’t enough to sweeten the atmosphere into anything less than tense. And Jungwon, in all of his twenty-one-year-old glory, misreads the situation entirely. “You, uh…” he tries, palm sliding to the back of his neck like he’s nervous. He can’t quite meet your eye now. “You’re fast when you want to be.” 

At that, you arch an eyebrow, offering him nothing but silence and an exasperated set to your features. If this is his attempt at an apology, he’s doing a less than favorable job. 

Another handful of seconds pass. Around you, the world continues to ebb and flow. Students walking to class, sheltering themselves from the rain with backpacks and book bags and a mismatched array of makeshift umbrellas.

Rain continues to pound the earth around you. But under the shelter, it’s just the two of you. 

Suddenly, eye contact is a difficult thing to maintain. 

When the silence extends into something impossibly more uncomfortable, you shake your head in silent disbelief, turning to leave him in the dust a final time. But once again, the sound of his voice disturbs the monotonous pouring of rain before you can make it all of three feet. 

“I don’t really like literature, you know.” It’s an odd declaration, all things considered. Enough so to have you turning back until your gaze matches his own, the confused furrow of your brow meeting the open vulnerability of his own. 

“What?”

Jungwon takes a deep inhale, steeling himself like he’ll lose his nerve in its entirety if he doesn’t get it all out in a single breath. 

“I told you, when we were partnered up that first day of class and you asked me why I ended up taking contemporary lit.” His brow draws down into something that looks almost pained, gaze falling towards the raindrops that scatter against the concrete beneath you. “I told you it was because I’ve always liked literature, but that was a lie. I hate literature. Like, a lot. I needed one more upper division elective credit and I was signed up for a kinesiology course and it looked really cool, but then Jake told me that you were taking contemporary lit and I just…” He trails off, sliding an open palm down his face. His head shakes ever so slightly, almost like he's berating himself. He still won’t look you in the eye. “I knew this was a stupid idea. Everyone warned me too.” A laugh escapes his lips but no trace of humor follows. “All my friends said it would never work, that I should just let it go because this would never go the way I want it to. Hell, I even called my sister the other day and she told me I’d be better off to just forget it, but—”

“Jungwon,” you finally interrupt, mostly in fear that his nonsensical rambling won’t see any sort of end if you don’t intervene. “What are you talking about?”

There’s a moment, just a fraction of a minute, where everything around you seems to freeze, where time seems to suspend itself in mid air. Across from you, Jungwon’s chest is rising and falling slowly. A gentle pattern of heavy breaths as his rain soaked hair drips down across his eyes and over the bridge of his nose. 

He’s flushed, but just slightly, and you can’t tell if it’s from the biting frigidness of the rain or something else entirely. At his sides, his hands are clenched into two identical fists, fingers wound so tightly his knuckles have gone completely white. 

And then there are his eyes, so open, so vulnerable, so achingly honest and yet you have no idea what it is that’s running through his mind at a million miles a minute. The gaze that matches your own seems almost pleading, begging you to understand, to be gentle, but for what you can’t decipher. 

But just as quickly as it came, the moment subsides into something decidedly less monumental the second he opens his mouth. 

“You really don’t know?” He’s not being patronizing. There’s a thick tint of genuine disbelief laced through his tone, mixing easy with heavy strokes of premature embarrassment. But it irks you nonetheless, his apparent inability to make himself clear.

“Don’t know what?” You really should have faked that stomachache. 

Jungwon averts his eyes again, gaze flickering to the concrete beneath him before his next words come out all in a jumbled rush, so tangled you almost miss them.

“I like you.” 

Three words. Simple against the tongue and easy in delivery. 

But you have no idea what to do with them and it would appear that Jungwon doesn’t either. 

He’s pressing on before you can so much as take in his original declaration. “Like, I like you a lot, ___. Fuck. It’s all I can think about, I swear. Everytime we study together or grab food or even just when you’re sitting next to me in class taking notes. It’s hard to be around you sometimes because I feel like I’m always in my own head and so confused and I just…” He shakes his head, clearing away some of the haze. “I just like you. A lot.” 

And maybe if he weren’t wrapped up so deeply in his own confession, in his own sphere of discomfort, he’d notice how the frown marring your pretty features has been growing steadily deeper the entire time. Maybe he’d have noticed that when you finally open your mouth to respond after an uncomfortably long beat of silence, it wouldn’t be a confession of equal feelings that comes out.

“Well I’m sorry to have confused you so much, Jungwon,” is the first thing you say, and if he expected anything it certainly wasn’t the annoyance running heavy through your tone. He’d anticipated a bit of confusion, maybe even some disbelief, but only the watered down versions that could just as easily be transformed into reciprocation.  

“Wait, no,” he tries, but it’s in vain. “___, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can promise you that it was unintentional.” There’s sarcasm dripping off of all of your words, a mean streak that gives Jungwon pause. Had he really just laid his feelings out in the open after spending days agonizing over how to do it for… this? 

He’s never been the best with words and he hates himself a little for it, hates that he can never seem to make a conversation flow as easily as you’re always able to. Hates how his thoughts come out stilted and messy and convoluted. Hates that even though he’s been practicing this conversation for days in the mirror and the shower and in his mind before he goes to bed, he still seems to have missed the mark terribly. 

He just… He thought that you would get it. He’s never been good with words. But he also knows that you know that he’s never been good with words. It’s something that he’s always been fond of, your easy ability to read between the lines and pick up on all those little thoughts and ideas he could never quite find a way to put into words. If anything, your avoidance of all the subtext now seems almost intentional. It leaves him feeling more than a little confused. 

Jungwon’s eyes are glassy when you meet them, mouth downturned and cheeks flushed. “Is that…” He trails off, voice small, so painfully unsure of himself as he toys with a loose string on his backpack. “Is that all you have to say?” 

The venom is still there when you ask, “What do you want me to say, Jungwon?”

Another flash of pain crosses his features, fleeting but unmistakable. The surprise that shocks him into stillness is the only thing that keeps him from recoiling. “I don’t know. I just… I just laid all my feelings out for you and you can’t even tell me where your head’s at.” Always messy, always tripping over his own words. And if the sudden fire in your eyes in anything to go by, he’s only done it again. 

“So I’m supposed to be flattered, then?” Your arms move to cross your chest and he feels every bit the scolded kid you’re trying to make him. “By you telling me that even though all of your friends and family told you that confessing to me was a bad idea, you decided to do it anyway? That you’re not even entirely sure about your actual feelings because I confuse you?” 

“No.” He really should take a minute to gather his thoughts, to work them into something a little more coherent, but this is snowballing out of his control more quickly than he can keep track of. In the moment, adding fuel to the fire feels all too similar to smothering it with sand. “No. God. Fuck, no. That’s not—Look, it came out wrong. I was trying to tell you that I like you, maybe to ask you on a date, because—”

“And what makes you think I would want to date you, Jungwon?”

It’s cruel, even for you. Even towards him. It’s mean and it hurts and he’s so, so confused. “I… I don’t understand—”

You’re unwavering in your anger as you press on, face heating and brow drawing down. “God, Jungwon. Even if you hadn’t just basically insulted me six different ways, you know I have other reasons to be more than a little pissed off at you right now.”

And what those reasons could be, he has absolutely no idea. 

“What are you talking about?” Jungwon doesn’t mean to let the defensive edge to his words slip in, but it’s beyond his control at this point. He’s so confused and you’re throwing accusations with little inhibition. “We barely even talked this last week. I practically had to run you down just to get you to have a conversation with me and now you’re just yelling—”

“And why do you think that is?” Somewhere in the extremities of your mind, you’re aware that people are starting to stare as they pass by, that you’re drawing more than a little attention. But with Jungwon right in front of you and anger closing in on all sides, they’re easy enough to ignore. “Why on earth would I want to be around, and much less date the same person who’s made Rina cry just about every night for the past month, Jungwon?”

“Rina?” Jungwon’s brow furrows even further at that, a confusion that seems so genuine that it absolutely infuriates you clouding his tone. “What does Rina have to do with—”

“Cut the shit, Jungwon. Jay told me what you did. And even if he didn’t, you should have known better than to let me borrow your laptop while you and Jake were texting.”

Oh. Oh, shit. 

“Because when you left to go find a book, Jake just couldn’t stop thanking you for saving him from being ‘tied down’ all season, couldn’t stop talking about how he’s just so much better off without a girl around.” 

There’s so much sarcasm and anger in your voice and Jungwon doesn’t know where to start. He knows that the incident in question is partially his fault, and yeah, it probably was a stupid idea to leave you alone with his laptop in the middle of a conversation with Jake, but how was he supposed to know his friend would bring up Rina? This really is all just some sort of misunderstanding. Maybe if you would just listen...

“I—” he tries, but you’re cutting him off in the next breath.

“Which is bullshit, by the way. Because Jay also told me about how miserable Jake’s been ever since he ended things with Rina and how he’s been spending half of your stupid soccer practice moping in the corner—”

Fucking Jay. “I didn’t—”

At that, he watches as the anger in your expression melds with something he can only call disbelief. “Are you seriously gonna deny it?”

“No. No, I’m not denying it. Will you just stop and listen for—?”

“No, actually. I don’t think I will." Your yelling is reaching a decibel that would be impossible not to notice, even through the rain, but you can't find it in yourself to care. "What kind of horrible person goes around breaking up good relationships on purpose?”

And just like that, Jungwon’s words lose their pleading edge. Every bone in his body, every instinct and shred of knowledge he’s gathered is telling him that you’re not here to listen. That nothing he says will be good enough for you. No, just like always, you’re here to berate him and talk over him and then storm off once you’ve said your piece. Just like every other argument you've ever had. And Jungwon’s fucking tired of it. 

He's being just as difficult as you always are when he says, “First of all, I didn't break anyone up. I didn't make Jake do anything. The only thing I did was tell him the truth. And besides, he might be moping now, but he sent me those texts for a reason.”

It may be a one-eighty, but you’re no stranger to arguing with Jungwon. You know exactly how dirty he can play when he wants to. With a humorless laugh, you let your lips part in disbelief. “You have some fucking nerve, Yang.” 

Jungwon just rolls his eyes, the accusation barely brushing him before he shakes it off his shoulders. He’s tired of being treated like this, of getting the short end of the stick and always being molded into some sort of villain by your quick hands. He doesn’t know how many times he has to show up for you, to prove to you that he’s not the person you thought he was all those months ago when you first met before you’ll actually give him some kind of a chance. 

And if you won’t listen to anything calm and rational, well, maybe it’s time for a different approach. Jungwon’s looking for the argument he already has when he retorts, “Yeah? Well so does Rina.”

If anything, it at least is successful in capturing your attention. Your voice is deadly calm when you ask, “What did you just say to me?”

It’s something akin to an exasperated disbelief that he looks at you with now. A cool, collected exterior that’s entirely a front for the jumble of emotions he feels, but it’s infuriating to you nonetheless. “Come on, ___. You’re her best friend. You had to know.”

The tables turn, just like that. Now he’s the one laying claims in bold strokes while maintaining an unaffected facade, and you're left to do all the guesswork. “Know what?” 

“That she was cheating on him!” When Jungwon sees the way your features shutter, he’s quick to amend. “Or at least getting close to it. I saw her, ___. Literally the morning after she was over all night with Jake I saw her out with some other guy! And usually, that’s not a big deal, but they sure as hell seemed closer than just friends when he went in for a hug.”

Just as quickly as they closed off, your emotions are twisting back into outrage. “That was her cousin, you absolute idiot! He lives hours away so they never get to see each other. He came up to visit for the weekend so she could show him around campus. A weekend that you ruined, by the way. Because she spent all of it crying in bed.”

It’s a revelation that you expect will have him back to begging at your feet, but Jungwon doesn’t miss a beat. “Still! Even if he was her cousin, that wasn’t the first time I saw her getting flirty with other guys.” Jungwon’s jaw clenches as a stray raindrop makes its way over the bridge of his nose. “The only reason I even told Jake was because I’d seen her do it so many times.”

You scoff, even as feelings of doubt start to trickle in through the corners of your mind, even as something that feels all too similar to nausea threatens to rise in your stomach. “That’s ridiculous.”

Jungwon is glaring at you now, really glaring and you curse the wave of unease it inspires. “You know, maybe if you could get over your incessant need to be right all the time, then—”

“My need t—?”

“—then maybe you’d see that you’re not above everyone else on some moral high ground and that sometimes, you’re wrong about things too. Just like the rest of us. I get that she’s your friend which is why I obviously didn’t want to drag you into this. And I’m sorry that Jay can’t keep a secret to save his life and that you found out like this, but I know what I saw. And instead of listening to me or even trying to talk to me about it like a fucking adult, you avoid me like the plague for a week. And then when we finally do talk, you stand here and assume that I'm the kind of person that would intentionally try to ruin both of our closest friends’ lives.”

There’s a lapse while Jungwon takes a moment to just stare at you, chest heaving and hair dripping. When he speaks again, there’s a distinct cloud of hurt that encompasses his words. “We’ve known each other for months, ___. Whenever you texted me at ass o’clock because you waited until the last minute to do your assignments and started panicking when you couldn’t get the answers, I was the one who woke up in the middle of the night to help you figure it out. Whenever you had some shit going on that you didn’t wanna worry your friends with, I was the one who stayed up with you to talk you through it. If you were tired in class but forgot your wallet, guess who was the one to buy you your favorite coffee.”

You offer him nothing but an indignant scoff, arms crossing over your chest. “So I owe you now? Is that what you’re saying? You keep a running tally of all the nice things you’ve ever done for me and the sum of them is finally high enough to cash in a date? To pick up the slack from having a hand in making my best friend miserable?”

“No.” He’s fuming just as clearly as you now, a thick cloud of emotion radiating off of him in waves as he takes a step forward into your space. Now you’re the one cowering, taking an equal step backwards even as you keep your chin high in defiance. “That’s not what I’m saying and maybe you’d get that if you fucking listened. You don’t owe me shit, ___. Forgive me for being fucking hurt by the fact that the entire time I thought we were becoming friends, that we were getting close to one another, you were actually keeping me at an arm’s length and always looking for a reason to cut me off and make me out to be some sort of villain.” 

Your eyes narrow as another stray raindrop drips from an eyelash. “And forgive me for not instantly falling at your feet from a shitty confession after I had every reason to think that you just had single handedly ruined my best friend’s relationship!” 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re cognizant of the fact that you’re probably being unfair, that things probably would have gone a bit smoother had you just been willing to hear him out. But something about the way he levels you with thinly veiled insults and a smug little set to his mouth has you wanting to push back, to say your piece even if you’re only grasping at straws at this point. 

A handful of insults ago, this might have been the kind of petty fight that could have been fixed with an apology and some space. But things are different this time around. They’re personal. 

You’re not debating over the best flavor of gelato from the shop down the street or the Rotten Tomatoes review Jay mentioned in passing. Despite the cold exterior he’s adopted, the sharpest emotion Jungwon feels right now is a deep, burning humiliation at being rejected so definitively in every sense of the word. At reading things between you and him so terribly wrong. 

And it takes more than a low, mumbled, I’m sorry with half avoided eye contact to make any steps towards remedying that kind of wound. 

A scoff passes through parted lips as he takes another step forward. Left with no further space to retreat, your back becomes flush with the wall behind you as your chin turns up to meet his eye. “Funny that you say that.” There’s a dangerous glint to his eye, an unexpected emotion in what has so far been a whirlwind of annoyance and anger and hurt. “Because you sure didn’t seem to mind when I was the one doting all over you.” 

“Excuse me?” The roll of your eyes is exaggerated. “You call buying me coffee every now and then ‘doting all over me?’” You huff a dry laugh, jutting your chin even further towards his own in defiance. “I think I really did dodge a bullet then. I imagine someone with those standards wouldn’t make for a very…” The way your eyes make quick work of scanning him from head to toe is dangerous, but if you’re to have anything, it will be the last word. "fulfilling relationship.” 

Jungwon just takes it in stride, tilting his chin slightly before stepping impossibly closer. So close that you can clearly make out the mole just above his jawline. So close that you feel his words as much as you hear them. “Hm, maybe not. But what about all the times I did this?” It’s damningly hard to suppress the shiver that threatens to shoot the length of your spine as his fingers ghost delicately over the skin just above your collarbone. You're doing your damn best to maintain an unaffected front, but you feel the way his lips turn up into a little grin at the tiny gasp you can't quite contain. “Hm? And the forehead kisses?” Just as easily, he’s leaning down to let his lips brush against your hair, not exactly a kiss but a fleeting touch that leaves heat in its wake all the same. 

He shifts then, and his next words are whispered against the shell of your ear. “All those little touches. I imagine it would have been pretty easy to have you—what was it you called it?—falling at my feet then if I really set my mind to it.” You don’t need to see his face to feel the smugness radiating from him in waves.

There’s a moment, barely a millisecond of time, in which you let yourself entertain the idea of turning your face, just slightly, until your lips are aligned with his. It wouldn't take much, really. And you already know that it would be entirely too easy to lose yourself against the heat of his mouth, within the tangle of your fingers against the nape of his neck, amongst the quiet little breathy gasps you're already sure he’d have no problem drawing from the back of your throat. 

Because despite it all, you do know what he's talking about. In fact, you remember it all too well. The two of you have never breached that flimsy barrier of anything more than platonic, but it sure did seem to be your favorite line to teeter. 

Because despite all of his faults and flaws and all the many reasons the two of you were always butting heads, Yang Jungwon was the kind of guy that was all too easy to get caught up in. And you have the distinct feeling that he feels the exact same way about you. It would be easy, the less inhibited parts of your mind whisper into your cloud of consciousness. It would feel good. 

You're so wrapped up in your own thoughts, in the cacophony of sensation, that you don't notice it, but Jungwon's on the exact same wavelength. He can feel the way you shudder under his touch, can imagine that same gentle ripple of energy in so many different, more pleasurable contexts, and it's making him dizzy. Your lips are parted and all he can think about is giving them something to do that doesn’t involve throwing insults his way. He wants to say it then, wants to erase everything he said before by telling you how beautiful he thinks you are, how easy you made it for him to like you, how mortified he really is that he managed to fuck it all up so badly. 

But the cold is as sobering as anything, and it takes less than a heartbeat for you to remember why you’re here in the first place. With slightly trembling hands, you’re pushing against his chest, ignoring your instincts to pull him closer instead, until there’s room to breathe again, until that damn voice in your mind is nothing but an afterthought. You want to scream at yourself for being so easy, for falling right into his little game, for letting him embarrass you like that. You infuse your gaze with as much venom as you can manage before you’re matching it to his own. “Fuck you, Jungwon. You have some real nerve, you know. Was this all some kind of joke to you?”

It's as if you've taken a bucket of ice water to his head. Because no matter how many little moments you allow him, how many glimpses he gets at the girl that just might like him half as much as he likes her, this is what you really think of him.

And as much as he wants things to be different, as much as he wants to push and fight and try until he finally makes you understand, he knows he'll eventually have to come to terms with the fact that no amount of wishful thinking will ever make you see him for who he really is. 

“A joke?” He laughs humorlessly, tucking away his hurt for now in the only way he knows how. “No. But I guess it was a waste of my time. I got your message, by the way. Your opinion of me came through. Loud and clear. I’ll ask Sunoo to switch partners with me in lit and I’ll just leave you alone from now on.” There’s a pause, a moment of hesitation like he wants to say something else. The sky is still crying and his cheekbones are still dusted red and your chest is still heaving where you stare at him with parted lips. He takes one final glance before turning away from you completely.