that bitch, with a big heart

"oh shit, my bad. sorry."

you don't even bother to stop walking. he feels his body tense.

your inability to acknowledge it was the geum seongie — it's not out of fear, but rather a lack of it. you're quick to run off in the direction of the bathroom half a second later, more concerned about your bladder than his ego.

you should've known from the way he looked at you when you returned to your seat: his eyes looked at you like you were crazy, careless or just plain stupid — his perfect playmate.

"could you stop looking at your phone when you're eating? so rude.” jeongyeon hooks a finger over the top of your screen, flicking it down before setting it onto the table with a playful shake of her head. “unbelievable, [full name] — zero manners. could you eat something?"

you roll your eyes playfully, shutting your phone off and picking up your chopsticks again. you thought about giving an excuse for not eating — no appetite, lunch menu was horrible today — ooh, maybe you already ate on the way to class.

your friend's eyebrows furrow. "i know you haven't eaten breakfast. i heard your stomach screaming during chemistry lab."

you're picking at your rice grains. you don't know what to say — it'll be the same as a few days ago. the scenario would play out exactly like this:

'you fought with your boyfriend. . . again? god, when are you going to leave that fucker?' and then you'll be defending him like you were an experienced attorney earning six figures at korea's top law firm.

you've run out of excuses by now.

"you know what? i feel the break coming." you shrug, your chopsticks picking up grains one by one and feeding them into your mouth. "it's like a premonition — i asked him what he was doing on hyeri's story, and that dog dodged it so hard. who the fuck lets other girls sit on their lap? it's ridiculous, really. . ."

it's defeat. your tears don't sting your eyes anymore, if there are even any. you thought he was a good man in the beginning — flowers, chocolates, dates. asking your mom for her blessing. you don't know when he began to change, right before your eyes, and you used to blame yourself for not stopping it.

maybe it was when he started hanging around some of the kids from the union — not geum seongje, no, that guy was almost always alone — he was hanging around seongje's pets. the first time you saw him vaping with them, you told him off.

he promised you he wouldn't mix around with them again, that he just wanted a hit. you knew he hadn't touched a vape in months since you made him quit.

back then, you didn't let him date you if he still did it. it's only ironic now.

". . .hyeri?" jeongyeon's ears perk up like a puppy. "the story where she's at that one club, right? fuck, what's the name again—"

oh, you should've known that your best friend would be up to date on it. you respond before she can start brainstorming out loud, embarrassing you in front of everyone else in the canteen. "yes, the one with the purple and blue neon lights. the drinks are cheap, apparently."

jeongyeon mouths an 'ohhhhh', as if she knew which club you were tallking about before your mentioning of it. she nods. "shit, you know what?"

your eyes dart from your plain, unappetizing meal to jeongyeon's face. you know a terrible idea is coming from the way she puts her chopsticks down and puts her hands together, like she's in a serious meeting with HR and her promotion is on the line. "fuck no, i'm not doing it."

"i haven't even said anything, asshole," jeongyeon exhales calmly, as if regaining her composure only to say something utterly idiotic. "maybe. . . we could drop by — you know hyeri's a club addict. she'll probably be there tonight too."

you raise an eyebrow while continuously chewing on your rice. "go on."

your relationship is too far gone to save. you swore to yourself you'd never run after a man who was chasing another woman — still, it doesn't make the heart ache any less intense. you can only wonder whether it was worth it for him: if the free drinks made it all guilt-free, if all the girls grinding on him made him forget about your feelings of betrayal.

you're unsure if what you feel in your chest is your heart shattering into two, or rage manifesting and taking it's rightful place.

"we'll say hi, throw a drink or two in his face, and we can get ice cream after." her eyes glimmer at the ice cream part, and momentarily, your heart feels lighter and the pit in your stomach shrinks.

so you nod, sealing your fate — tonight was the night you let go.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

it's approaching 11pm. you're sure many of your schoolmates would be on the way home from private classes by now, and you usually would be too — but nothing's usual about today. if not for your emotions pulling you apart at the seams, you would be thinking much more logically and clearly, so you don't have anyone to blame but yourself.

you feel uncomfortable. your texts have been left on delivered since last night, and you wonder if you should've sent a good morning message to remind your own boyfriend — soon to be ex — that you existed. your hands find their way out of your pockets, fiddling with the ends of your sleeves.

you know you'd break up with him today regardless if he replied or not. perhaps you were just craving some confirmation that you still mattered, even just a little.

jeongyeon's hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you into the club — the atmosphere shifts and the music deafens you almost immediately. you can barely hear your friend telling you she sees your boyfriend, tucked away in a leather booth with none other than hyeri, joined by a couple of unfamiliar faces.

your eyes follow her finger that points towards their direction, and you see it too. hyeri's beautiful in this light, unsurprisingly, and your boyfriend is whispering something into her ear. it makes her visibly blush, and your eyes laser focus on the way her hand weakly smacks his chest — the same chest you've felt thousands of times before.

you don't know exactly when you lost him, but it's evident that you did.

jeongyeon doesn't say a thing, which only makes you want to curl up into a ball and cry. she always had something to say, especially when it came to your stupid boyfriend; but instead, her head turns back towards you, a regretful expression on her face.

"y'know what, i don't think this was the best idea," she smacks her lips awkwardly. "we should go. you got your answers. just block the asshole, okay?"

she tries to pull you in the opposite direction, but you don't budge. not one bit.

what she got wrong was that you got your answer the very moment you saw that video on hyeri's story. you came here for a different purpose, a different outcome.

your footsteps are light, fast, steady. you barely feel the weight of your body on your own feet as your instincts whisper to you: grab that drink and throw it in his face.

so you do.

in the strobing lights of the club — pink, purple, blue — your boyfriend barely registers it’s you. you move too fast for anyone at the booth to react. your hand finds a glass, filled to the brim with liquor — what kind doesn’t matter. what does matter is that every last drop crashes against that asshole’s face.

its a shock — physical, mental, all at once. hyeri gasps, her first instinct to check her clothes, while your boyfriend bolts to his feet.

"fuck's your problem?"

this whole time, your boyfriend hasn't realised whose eyes he's met. he only sees the glint in her eyes, the occasional flash of a blank face which hold seemingly no emotion. it makes his blood run cold.

your hand grips the glass tight, and you think if you held on any tighter that it would've shattered into pieces in your palm. you choose not to strike it against his head, instead slamming it on the table in front of him — it causes his phone to fall from the impact.

"i'm breaking up with you." you say. it's calm, despite your actions. the boys at the table laugh amongst themselves, quick to shower you with condescending praise.

"fiesty," you hear one of them scoff, and it's like a pack of starving hyenas just entered the room — ready to swallow you whole. "this your fuckin' girlfriend, huh?"

you don’t wait to hear whatever your ex has to say. you don’t look back to check if he’s following. you just walk — steady, certain — until the backdoor swings shut behind you, and the night air in the alley feels like freedom.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

you're crouched over, squatting back and leaning against the wall to steady yourself. you hug your knees, looking down at the concrete, following the cracks.

you haven't returned any of jeongyeon's calls. sooner or later, you're dragging your sneakers against the pavement as you mindlessly continue your walk.

you notice you've made your way back to ganghak territory, remembering your school's a few turns away — you know this because you recognise the 7-11 you used to frequent in your first year. practically eons ago.

seoul is quiet, cold. the wind is howling and the trees rustling are the only thing you pay any mind to. you're sure it's past midnight, with how you don't see anyone in uniforms making their way back home anymore. you only see the occasional groups of club-goers, some people on their way to the night shifts at their job, or a random stranger taking a night stroll with their dog.

you wish you brought your earbuds. phoebe bridgers would make a banging soundtrack—

"[name]? oh, what a nice gift."

you're confused.

your head whips towards the alleyway between the two buildings on your left, from where you hear the familiar voice. the streetlight above flickers before it remains on — it's like a horror movie, you almost want to laugh.

you see geum seongje, dressed like he's about to go hiking. you think he must own a colourful variety of windbreakers with the way it's all you ever see him in. he's holding a cigarette between his index and middle finger, bringing it up to his lips, and he inhales like it's the last time he'll ever touch nicotine.

"geum seongje, hi."

your greeting makes him smile. how adorable you were, so cute, so small — he could crush you between his fingertips, roll you into a ball and flick you away.

he blows the smoke from his mouth. "you smoke?"

you shake your head. "nah, i don't."

"shame." he's walking towards you now, and you're a little clueless about why.

the height difference becomes much more obvious as he inches closer, footsteps getting louder as his face in your vision becomes clearer — you start to wonder what he's doing around here at such an ungodly timing.

though you suppose he could ask you the same, so you don't pry.

with nothing else to say, you agree half-heartedly: "mhm."

when he's this close, it's easier to analyse him. you notice the smidge of blood on his sleeve, but no cuts on his face — could only mean he was up to his gangster nonsense, probably beating up some defenceless kid. you already decided you didn't want any part of that.

you don't notice you're fiddling with your skirt. his eyes move downwards, focusing on your pretty hands. he can't help but to snicker tauntingly. "nervous?"

"no."

seongje's smirk only grows, seeing your fear physically manifest. he thinks he could hear your heart race, too, if you'd just let him that close. "you always speak with single words?"

"not really."

it's a few seconds of eye contact and no other words exchanged. seongje sighs and flicks his cigarette away — no concern for the environment. how unlikeable.

"gosh, you're no fun to talk to." his honesty pisses you off. he turns on his heels and starts to walk back into the alleyway. "more boring than you look."

you mutter 'dickhead' as he walks away, and he turns his head around as if he heard you. he only flashes a brief smirk before the lights start flickering again, and his frame disappears into the darkness.

what a fucking creep.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

you don't remember how you got here.

well, that was a bit of a lie — you remember taking your phone out, double clicking the power button for apple pay, and then hauling a bunch of bottles out the store — it's a little blurry after that.

you remember sitting yourself down on the curb, downing one bottle of strawberry soju. and then it was another. and then another. you were hoping to get one uniform flavour, but the store was running low on all of them.

strawberry, grape, peach, oh dear. you had a whole spread in front of you.

you're thankful you can't drive. you think you might lead yourself off a cliff with the way this night unfolded, but you think the worst you could do now is fall and hit your head somewhere.

"shiiit," you hear an unfamiliar voice laugh from behind you. "she's fucking hammered, bro!"

you're more confused now than when you saw seongje earlier.

your vision is hazy. you think this is comparable to when you didn't sleep for a few days before your mock exams — you couldn't register a fucking thing someone else was saying. it made sense to you in the moment, and whatever you reply sounds logical as well, but it's not until you're sober that you realise you were talking shit.

"hey, pretty girl," and you can roughly make out a face. it's some guy, possibly a little older than you — maybe in college — you don't even know. "drinking all alone?"

your heart drops for the wrong reasons. the sober you would know you should be hitting this guy's head with the bottle you just bought because he's clearly spelling danger. no, instead, your heart sinks because of the pet name:

pretty girl.

the words get caught in your throat. in less than 3 seconds, you're finally bursting into tears.

"fuck, she's actually wasted," he's talking to someone else. you know because his voice is louder, and his head is turned back. "shit, baby, let me take care of you—"

his rough palm is reaching for your inner thigh, and he rubs his thumb up and down. it's an action you've seen millions of times, and it only makes you sob even harder.

another voice whines, their voice a little deeper than the guy who was feeling you up: "fuck, dude, you gonna share that or what?"

laughter erupts from behind you, and it feels utterly humiliating. it's sinister, it's telling you you're in deep trouble — you can't even think straight, but you knew even that much.

your thighs instinctively close, trying to pry yourself out of the stranger's grip. he only forces them open. "we're just trying to help, yeah?"

you're scared.

you can't deny you have no idea how you're going to get out of this. you don't think you can even walk in a straight line — if you were to get up and bolt, someone's going to catch up to you, if you didn't face plant into the ground first.

another pair of arms snakes under your armpits, gripping your torso — someone else is lifting you off the ground. more than one person is coming for you. your heart hammers in your chest, your lungs burn, throat dry.

you close your eyes, hoping to wake up and realise that it's all a nightmare — that something horrible isn't going to happen to you.

when you open your eyes, you realise you're standing up now. two men are on both your sides, your arms slung over their shoulders as they help you steady yourself.

"gonna take you somewhere fun—"

his words cut off abruptly. you're taking deep breaths, tears flowing down your red, flushed cheeks. you want to go home.

"ah?" someone else entirely is speaking now. "what? no invite?"

you force your head to look up, which was difficult in itself — your own weight felt so incredibly heavy.

when your eyes focus on the boy in the red and black windbreaker, you don't know whether to be relieved or even more fearful.

it doesn’t take long for geum seongje to reach the two at your side. maybe you’re too drunk to see clearly, but you can hear it — the sickening snap of bones, the grunt of bodies hitting the floor, the wet, heavy thud of fists connecting. it makes your stomach twist.

the grip the two strangers had you is released: you stumble and feel your body slam against the wall, before you slump over and slide down to the floor.

tears fall from your eyes, tiny droplets staining the pavement.

a few minutes stretch like hours, and then sudden silence. the groans, the fists, the snapping bones, all gone. you watch with blurry vision as seongje kicks the two strangers in the ribs, over and over again — till he gets bored.

"fuck, that was annoying," seongje's panting for air, his grin as wide as ever. he fixes the glasses on his face, middle finger pushing the bridge of his frame up. "weaker than i thought."

when he notices you staring, teary-eyed and lips trembling, he can't help but think about how vulnerable you look.

your eyes look in front of you, bloodied bodies laying together, unconscious. you look up at seongje again, and then back to the bodies.

"shit, you crying?" seongje puts on a mocking pout before laughing. he tilts his head in amusement, like you were a little puppy performing it's first trick. "where's my thanks? do you have any manners?"

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

you're still a little tipsy, enough to definitely not remember stumbling into this place.

it's filthy, reeks of cigarettes, and all that deserved to be called 'furniture' was a small leather couch at the far end of the room. you grimace. nevertheless, when seongje said he'd help you sober up — you didn't think it'd be in a place like this. still, you notice the plastic bag with water bottles and painkillers in his hand. you had to give him some credit for caring like that.

the air is quiet, thick with tension. you're sitting down on one end of the sofa while seongje is comfortable next to you, lighting another cigarette. he puts it in his mouth and inhales, before using his free hand to pass you one of the plastic water bottles.

"you always drink alone?" seongje finally says something when he notices you're done taking a sip. you hold onto bottle using both hands, posture stiff and your skin cold. "didn't think you were the type."

you're not sure why he didn't think about bringing you home, but you remember your parents were probably going to disown you for bringing a boy over at such an hour. still, it makes you anxious.

"it's a. . . an occasion," you try not to lie. it's either this or tell an embarrassing truth, one that you know geum seongje would never let you live down. "i'm not much of a drinker in the first place."

he despises your naivety. "you're just asking to be taken advantage of, huh?"

"well, no. . . i just wasn't thinking. it was a tough day."

"seems like you don't think much at all." seongje's leaning back into the couch, nose pointed towards the ceiling. the smell of smoke fills your lungs, and it's strangely comforting compared to the sweeter smell you were used to with your ex lover. "saw you storming out of that club."

"you were there?"

"had some things to settle in the area. you know how it is."

you turn your head slightly towards him — he's not looking at you, but you see the way his adam's apple moves up and down his throat as he slowly breathes.

it's mesmerising.

"i broke up with my boyfriend today — or yesterday, technically."

seongje's muttering under his breath, "i always knew he was a fucking loser."

something else catches your attention: for the briefest moment, a smirk tugs at his lips — gone as quickly as it came, buried beneath his familiar poker face.

"mm, i see," seongje pretends he didn't say what he just said. it only makes you more confused. "well, shit. . . was he good?"

if this was an anime, you think there'd be huge red question marks popping up over your head.

you weren't stupid. you knew geum seongje wasn't the... therapist type. he wasn't asking you if your ex was a good man — fuck, he was asking you something completely different — and you weren't sure if you should answer.

so you play dumb.

"good?"

your voice echoes throughout the empty room. seongje gives a short, knowing laugh: like he knows something you don't. he straightens his back, arms resting on his thighs and he flicks his cigarette away into some dusty corner.

"was the sex good, i meant," he clarifies. his tone is unbothered, as if he asked millions of girls the same question before. "probably not, huh? always knew that guy had a small one."

you gulp.

your heart races, unsure how to answer. you twist the hem of your skirt, knees pressed together, eyes fixed on the floor. "it was okay," you murmur. "i was happy. not much to complain about."

you're not sure where all your bravery went. months ago, you were set on ignoring geum seongje; much less caring about his antics, even from a distance. you were supposed to be fearless, unconcerned.

but you're still nervous.

"not a very good review," he laughs, voice low and it's making your head spin. "ever forgotten your own name before, [name]?"

you feel and hear weight shifting on the sofa — the sound of leather squeaking. before long, his thigh is touching yours.

when you look up to turn your head in his direction, you think you're about to go insane: the little amount light hitting his face illuminates his features perfectly. seongje's looking right at you, scanning every part of your face like you're an image he needs burned his memory.

you answer. "no."

when you're looking at him like this, you start to understand — even if a little — the physical appeal to geum seongje.

"wanna try?"

you swear you almost go into cardiac arrest. you feel your heart pounding against your ribcage, threatening to rip itself out of your body. you must be drunk, you had to be — you couldn't be hearing him right.

nonetheless, when the mental images of your ex pops up in your mind, your thinking falters. it feels like you're cheating on him — your nervousness around seongje feels like sinning.

still, when you remember that he's probably had hyeri underneath him while you were busy studying, or occupied with personal issues; it only makes you need seongje more.

"okay."

the speed at which he unzips his windbreaker — then tosses it onto the floor — is almost too fast to register. his jaw tightens when you agree, so innocent, so unaware of all the things he wants to do.

as soon as he gets that green light, your lips are clashing with his — feverish, sloppy, and full of need — you swear you hear him groan into your mouth when your hands wander all over his chest.

the wet sounds of lips smacking and tongues swirling make you dizzy. it's so lewd, so sinful — it's addicting, like a scene pulled from a wet dream.

soon, you're lying down on the couch as he feels you up — rough squeezes to your breasts, and he's pushing his free hand up your shirt, the other caging you in.

when you whimper at the feeling of his index rubbing your nipple, you whine against his lips and he pulls away. "he made you cum before?"

the grin on his face is pure evil.

"n-no."

oh, you’re so fucking adorable. seongje can’t help but chuckle at your flustered response, staring down at you like a madman starved for weeks — and you can’t shake the sense of impending doom.

"gonna make you do everything he couldn't," he says, his voice sending chills down your spine and right back up to your neck.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

you're a little bit more sober now, and you know this cause you can feel every fucking nerve in your body that's being shot by geum seongje.

"mhm—" seongje's leaving rough, open-mouthed kisses on your neck and jaw like he hasn't eaten in days. the tears that rolled down your face earlier give your skin a salty flavour — god, he can't get enough. "bet he never fucked you as good as i will."

you're lying down on the couch, and seongje's crawled on top of you. it's a tight squeeze with how tiny it is.

"seongje. . ." your voice is soft, tender, almost so that he can't hear you. you sniffle as much as you whimper: he would almost get the wrong idea — that you didn't want it — if not for your arms feeling his back up like they are, pulling him in so sweetly. when he takes too long between kisses, he smirks at how you pull him right back in. "mmh—!"

"pretty fuckin' thing," he says when pulls away, smiling down at you with that evil fucking smirk that you've seen in videos before. "still crying?"

the name makes something swell inside you.

"mmhm," you're nodding desperately, eager for him to do something about it — and he sure does. wipes your tears away with his thumb before resuming his kisses. you feel yourself burning, head riddled with thoughts of why you're craving seongje's affection.

those are quickly wiped when he sucks on a sensitive spot, the skin right under your jawline — and you feel his tongue flatten against you.

it's sinful.

you can't seem to control your voice. "o-oh. . ."

you're not sure what the fuck you're doing. you broke up with your ex less than 5 hours ago, and now you're second base with the one guy you thought you would spend the rest of the school year avoiding.

"sure you want this?" his breath is warm against your neck, it tickles. he knows your answer by the way your hands move up his back and into his hair with a feverish speed. he thinks you might want it more than he does. when you're too busy moaning his name to respond coherently, he gets irritated.

"come on, baby — use your words, you're a big girl." and you feel his body press impossibly closer against yours, his right knee riding up and in between your thighs and consequently pushing your skirt up.

you bite back any more noises 'till you can actually reply to him. you feel the fabric of his pants rub against your underwear, and it's fucking soaked — you're embarrassed at the fact. you've probably left a giant patch on his pants, but you don't look down to confirm.

"shit," you whine when seongje shifts his thigh slightly, his quad bumping right against your clit. it's sudden, and it's humiliating. "s-seongje. . . need more."

he bites down on his lips, his smirk manifesting once again — it makes something bubble inside you. a desperate need, an overwhelming desire, you have to have him.

"damn, can't even speak in full sentences?" his breathing is so loud that you can hear it hitch when he moves his long, slender fingers up your skirt — palm pressing against your heat like it's the most normal thing. "this all for me? fuck. . ." his palm moves higher up, towards your belly button. his fingers trace your folds through the soaked fabric. "i'm flattered."

you know you shouldn't be doing this: fucking another guy in some dark, sketchy place right after your break up. yet, the way your body refuses to let go of seongje and how your heart feels a little less heavy — you think his digits teasing you feels better than throwing any drink in your exes face, tenfold.

maybe even better than any of the actual sex you've had with your ex.

when you buck your hips up, seongje puts on a taunting pout, shakes his head as if to say 'not yet' and pulls his hand out of your skirt: he's fucking teasing. "say please, and 'thank you for saving me, seongje.'"

his voices jumps a few octaves for that parody. you shut your eyes, turning your head away: too fucking overwhelmed with humiliation to even look at him directly, just hoping he'd give up and continue after realising you couldn't, wouldn't say that shit.

you feel seongje's fingers grasp your face tightly. you gasp at the sudden roughness — his index and thumb press firmly against your cheeks, forcing you to look right at him.

your eyes can't help but to flutter open, your eyelashes batting so prettily at him: he feels his cock harden in his pants and he's afraid to admit how little control he's got left.

seongje's got half a mind to unbuckle his belt and take you right here, raw and rough and in the most romantic way possible.

"say it."

his voice sounds breathless, he can't get enough air in — the evil glint in his eyes tell you he's serious, but you're too shy to play into his antics. his eyes narrow at you, eyebrows slightly raised: he's entertained by your ability to hold out.

you suffer for it, cause soon, he stands up on his feet and you're left alone on the couch — confused, needy, and whining. "s-seongje?"

he sits down on the opposite end of the sofa, motioning for you to come closer with his index and middle finger. seongje's silent until you start moving towards him. "bend over my lap, real quick."

you know what's coming: eventually, your ass is on full display for geum seongje as you're stomach first on his thighs. your panties are still on but your skirt is flipped upwards, and he's landing harsh smacks to the skin, fascinated about how fast your cheeks turn red at the contact. it's one, then two — he pauses before the third. you don't see it, but he sneers at how the fabric of your underwear is almost completely soaked with your slick.

"you'll say it," he asks — more like a covert demand — you in the most condescending, scornful tone and you know what he's referring to. "won't you, baby?"

you moan at the third slap. "f-fuuck, seongje—!"

smack. "not what i remember asking, [name]."

you don't know why you're complying. you don't know why you want to fuck geum seongje, so much so that you're submitting. all your resolve of staying away from him faded so quickly — you feel pathetic.

still, your heart beats faster thinking about where this is leading.

"t-thank you—"

smack. smack. smack.

it's three consecutive spanks, and you can only sob in response — the sting hurts so badly. you want to kill him for making this harder for you, even more because you know he probably has the widest, most shit-eating grin on his face while watching you struggle this badly for him.

"go on." seongje's snickering. "i don't have all day."

you bury your face in your forearms out of pure embarrassment. you're sure you'll regret this all in the morning — but when you feel seongje's hard-on twitch in his pants, right against your belly button, you feel something stirring deep in your core.

all it does is strip the ability to feel any indignation, or exercise any control.

"thank you for s-saving me, seongje."

he lands one more harsh slap on your right cheek, before his palm caresses it lovingly. "there's my good fucking girl."

his middle and ring finger pull your panties to the side — and his breath hitches at how absolutely fucking beautiful you are. seongje feels absolute rage at the fact that he didn't have his face buried into that cunt of yours months ago, before you had that stupid boyfriend: god, his mind wanders far enough to imagine himself as your man.

"fuuuck." he groans.

he'd worship a pussy like this any day, any hour. he's seething with envy at the fact that someone else had it first — still, seongje remembers it doesn't count if he couldn't even make you finish.

the sudden feeling of cold air breezing against your core makes you whine.

seongje doesn't even do anything for a good minute — just sits there admiring. he can't believe you hid something so pretty from him. even if you two were never close in the first place, he is absolutely offended at the lack of consideration and mind reading.

god, if only his phone wasn't dead... he thinks he'd take a picture. how could he not when you're bent over so beautifully, all for him? he had to immortalise this moment, even if it's just a mental image.

he feels the precum against his boxers. he'll never admit this is the hardest he's ever gotten, and he hasn't even touched you properly yet. he's aching to be inside of you, but the (somewhat) logical part in him knows to savour.

his middle finger pushes into you, slowly, and he smiles at how easy it is; the moan it pulls from you only makes him hungrier. soon, his ring finger joins in and he's pumping into you at a rate you can't register.

"o-oh fuck, seongje, right there—" you're shameless, he thinks. such a fucking slut. "feels so good,"

seongje's mesmerised at how you suck his digits back in whenever he pulls out. like a fucking vacuum. "so fuckin' greedy. . . "

when the tips of his fingers brush against that spot that makes your vision go blur, you're desperate to chase the high you never got. something coils in your stomach, slowly: and you need seongje to make it snap. "p-please, fuck — right there!"

"gonna cum? so quick?"

oh, you're so cute. you don't answer his question, and he takes that as yes — the only cacophony leaving your lips are a mix of "s-seongje," "yeah, right there," and "so fucking good".

his pride swells.

you're close, so achingly close — your brain is turning to mush. seongje regrets not flipping you over to see your pretty expressions, but with the way you're screaming his name.. he thinks it's better to save the best for last.

"i'm g'na fucking cum, seongje, oh my god—"

he studies your reactions. he notices how you squirm and clench when he curls his fingers at just the right angle, how you moan louder when he hits that one spot.

so when you're on the edge of breaking, he pulls his fingers out completely — leaving you empty and frustrated.

as much as he wants to see you unravel in front of him and all over his fingers, he'd rather feel it up close and personal — all over his dick, where it's supposed to be.

seongje smirks. "bet he never got you that close, huh?"

you feel a pit in your stomach when seongje laughs so damn loud that you almost consider it bullying. you feel a tear roll down your cheek. he's whispering for you to sit up on his lap, his strong arms helping you adjust your position. despite his harsh words, his touch makes you swoon.

when he meets your face, you can't help but notice how flushed he is — even in this dim lighting, you feel your heart race at how absolutely desperate he looks. his lips parted, half lidded eyes locked on your lips, eyebrows slightly raised.

you had to hear him moan your name. you need to. with that pretty face and smooth, sinful voice that'd been taunting you all night.

"you cry too much," seongje wipes your tear stains with his free hand, "gets really annoying."

your legs rest next to his, your perfect body straddling him so snugly. your hands rest against his chest for stability: you find yourself wondering how often this man must work out to achieve such toned muscles.

seongje reaches for his glasses before putting them next to him, letting a long exhale leave his lungs. his annoyingly gorgeous eyes lock with yours, and he can't help that a smirk pulls at his lips.

you ask: "what are you doing?"

if you could see yourself in his eyes, you'd understand why he looked so out of it — your hairs a mess, you're flushed all over and absolutely littered with hickeys down from your collarbone and up to your jawline. you're his work of art — as well as wanted so badly to ruin.

"i'm a man of my word," seongje whispers, and his gaze darts down to your lips. "you're cumming all over, yeah? don't you dare fucking fake it, i'll know — shit, you're probably a pro at that, aren't you?"

he jeers at his own comment. god, still fucking full of it.

"seongje," you breathe. "please — just fuck me already."

he tilts his head in amusement. "oh?"

"need you. . ." you bring his hand to your lower abdomen, a few inches above that cunt he was admiring so extensively earlier. "right here."

his jaw tenses. a switch is flipped inside of him — one that turned off all his control. "fuck, you talk to him like that too?" and his hands are moving to unzip his pants, pulling it down just enough for you to feel his length through his boxers pressing against your inner thigh.

seongje wonders if you had the same effect on your ex. he finds himself irritated at the scene his mind plays: you, on top of your ex boyfriend just like this, saying his name.

"you're so mean."

you have the urge to start rutting yourself against him, desperate to get yourself off: but the frustrated, impatient look on his face warns you — don't try anything.

you look down, resting your ass on his thighs as you slowly pull his boxers down. when you do, the sight makes your breath hitch.

it's longer than it is thicker. no doubt, it'll still leave you squirming — you bite down on your lip, thinking of how you'll fit all of him. his precum makes the lewdest sounds as your hands wrap around his swollen tip, and you drag it out in slow, sensual strokes.

"so pretty, seongje," and your smirk makes his head spin.

seongje notices it: how much fun you're having with him. before long, his head is thrown back and he tries his best to keep his composure. you see the muscles in his jaw clench, desperate to shut him up — the air in his lungs leave his mouth hard and heavy. "f-fuck, yeah. . ." he's groaning, praying to the gods that your hearing was terrible; you listen to him finally lose control and it only makes you greedier.

his hands find their way to your jaw and around your neck. they pull you in for the sloppiest, most teeth clashing kiss you've two have shared since meeting. when your thumb swipes over his tip, he moans into your mouth.

seongje feels your almost immediate smile against his lips, but he's too far gone to care. the sounds of your hand pumping him increasingly faster fill the room and is all that he hears — sticky, wet and so incredibly lustful.

"god, fuck—" he whines, and his hands are flying to your waist, lifting you up and aligning you to his tip. you don't fight it. "can't wait anymore, baby."

the way you smile down at him is absolutely evil. he lets you sink down on him, slowly and deliciously — eye contact unbroken. seongje notices the tears forming on your lower lash line, and it reminds him of the leash he has on you.

"s-shit. . ." you mewl, the stretch threatening to take you out. with every inch, it feels like your lungs shrink, the air you're breathing in clearly not enough. "'s too big, i can't. . ."

oh, his favourite phrase. his ego was already inflated enough at how soaked you were before he was even inside you, but now — he feels how your walls get greedy, sucking him in all over again — and his confidence skyrockets. "he ever fuck you like this? as good as me?"

you bite down on your bottom lip, already swollen from his rough kisses, and shake your head like you're desperate to please him. "n-no, not as good you—fuck—!"

his tip kisses your cervix when you finally bottom out. the way his lips curl into that familiar smirk makes you dizzy. "what's wrong, baby? never felt that before?" he mocks, "can feel you clenching around me."

oh, seongje doesn't know who he'll tell first after this is over — your beloved ex boyfriend? the stupid brats at the internet café? your best friend?

seongje snickers when he imagines your ex's face morphing into one of horror when he says he had you gushing all over him in record time.

his hands grip your waist, guiding you up before letting you sink down on his cock again. so fucking tight — he doesn't know how your ex ever let this shit go — so beautiful.

"shit, you're barely letting me move," he laughs, and when you squeeze around his length again, he almost snorts. "come on. show me how much you want it."

your vision almost goes white, littered with stars as you fuck yourself on his cock — your insides molding into the shape of his veins, remembering every detail. "mmh, s-seongje," you whine, and he only watches: lazy bastard, you think. you wonder why he isn't doing anything, considering how he was so close to cumming all over your hands earlier.

your head remains low, eyes trained on his sharp v-line and the wet mess at the base of his dick. that's all you.

when your hands wander up seongje's shirt, he doesn't stop you. you feel every dip in his muscles, every flex of his abdomen as you ride him. his breathing stops momentarily each time you take him in completely, so fucking warm and inviting. might have to have you cockwarm him sometime in the future.

your thighs grow tired eventually. your pace slows, and seongje snickers. exactly how he wanted you: tired and unable to fight him. he licks his lips before asking: "need some help?"

he's fucking taunting you again.

still, you nod feverishly like the good girl you are. you needed him to do more. it was cruel for him to take that orgasm away from you, and even more to make you work for it after the fact.

"please." you sound defeated.

when seongje sees your fucked out expression just from this, he wonders how dumb you'll get after he does his part: his eyes sparkle at the possibility.

so when he grips your waist, you feel much lighter; seongje lifts you up before slamming you back down. it's rough, animalistic and yet romantic. the way his gaze is full of longing and absolute adoration, eyes speaking of his desires, you can't help but feel like a goddess being worshipped.

seongje practically bounces you on his cock himself, reminding you of how strong he really was compared to you. your body falls limp against his — chest heaving as you took in deep breaths only to have the wind knocked out of you right after. you hear him groan in your ear as you buried yourself in the crook of his neck, the mixed smell of sweat and his cologne filling your nose.

"so fucking wet," seongje moans. "all for me."

your tongue swipes against the skin of his neck, and you feel his thrusts quicken and intensify. "tell me i fuck you better than him—s-shit—tell me you're all mine,"

"all yours," you confirm his statement, finding yourself believing it. you feel his hands wander down to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart, a desperate need to hit the deepest parts inside of you. "it's so m-much better, baby—"

any control seongje had left has dissolved when the name rolls off your tongue. when he hears you call him so sweetly — he feels his heart skip a beat and his cock swell inside of you, and it's fucking humiliating. his hands grip onto the fat of your ass, so rough you swear it'll leave bruises, and you're left a babbling mess as he continues to slam you down relentlessly, unforgivingly: if not for the filthy moans leaving his mouth, you'd think you did something wrong.

"dirty fucking girl—cum all over me baby, c'mon."

seongje's mind is blank, thinking only of giving you that beautiful orgasm that your ex never attempted — well, more like failed to: how fucking selfish of him, he thinks he might have to beat him up just for that. you looked so beautiful losing yourself on top of him, he wonders how he didn't fight harder to keep a girl like you.

god, the way you could only say his name as he pounds into you: "seongje, seongje, seongje". he's never loved his name more than now — the way your hands wander around his body, unsure of where to touch. the way your tears run down your flushed cheeks as you make eye contact with him, biting down on your bottom lip 'till it's raw — no, he can't ever let anyone else enjoy you after this.

he's already pissed off at the fact there was one before him.

you're staring down at seongje. beads of sweat roll down his temple, his lips slightly parted as he breathes heavily. his ears and cheeks look airbrushed with a peachy red — his pupils blown like he's experiencing the best high he's ever had in his life, not breaking eye contact with you: "so fuckin' good, baby, you feel so good." his voice is breathy, laced with desperation.

it's in this moment that you both know this won't be the last time. it's not enough — having each other once was never going to be enough.

when his tip continuously bumps into that one spongy spot inside of you — you feel yourself squirming, a tight rope forming from deep inside. the constant squeezes and pulsations signalling to him that you were close. "s-seongje, baby, i'm gonna cum," you warn him, and you watch as a smile manifests on his stupidly pretty face. "gonna cum all over—"

"show me." it's a powerful phrase, suddenly giving you a burst of energy; you're desperate to prove yourself to geum seongje. he moves your hips in a way that drives you crazy while you bottom out on him, again and again.

"seongje, fuuuck, s-seongje, i'm close—" his name falls from your mouth like a desperate prayer, and he's drinking all of it up. your hands hold onto his shoulders like pillars of support, your hair covering your face as you move up and down his length.

"yeah?" one of his hands shift to move your hair out of your face. seongje was determined to be the first (and only) one to see your pretty face when you finish. "then cum for me."

with one, harsh thrust, you've snapped. it's disastrous. you're twitching over him, walls squeezing him impossibly tighter — it takes everything in him not to fill you up with his cum right then and there. your vision goes white for a moment and every nerve in your body feels electric.

seongje groans as he feels you contract around him. "fucking filthy," he spits, "but i'm not done yet. you can take a lil more, right?"

it's not a choice for you.

you're not even done riding out your high when he decides to let his hands grip your hips again. seongje grins, so pussy-drunk that you begin to feel genuine fear of what he's going to do.

"seongje, w-wait—!"

his thrusts are sloppy, the cum flowing down your thighs from your orgasm only makes it easier for him to fuck into you so haphazardly — you're overstimulated, a crying mess as your arms fly to his chest and around his neck, nails digging into the cotton of his sweat-stained shirt.

"f-fuck, 's too much—" you whine in his ear, and seongje only groans in response. "i can't, seongje,"

he doesn't listen: the begging only spurs him on.

now that you've come undone, it only speeds up the process for him. the combination of your sweet, lewd moans in his ear, the smell of your skin and slick, the way you grip onto him like he's the only man in the world — god, it turns him on more than he's willing to admit — to the point where he actually wants to be the only man in the world to you. "gonna fill you up, okay?"

he feels so proud of you when you nod desperately. you knew what was good for you. "y-yes, please."

his orgasm takes over him quickly thanks to your plea. you're feeling him twitch inside of you again, and he lets out the nastiest fucking moan, his eyes shut and head thrown back, before he slams your hips down for the last time.

"oh fuuuck, y-yeah—" seongje groans, voice breaking as you tighten your embrace, feeling every drop of warm fluid empty into you in spurts. you realise his voice gets all high and whiny when he's close. "oh my god, baby. . ."

his hands let go of your hips, instead moving up to your back — he hugs you tightly, as if to tell you 'stay right where you are'.

the room smelled like sex. you're both breathing heavily, trying to catch your breaths as you hold each other tight: like a couple after they make love for the first time, except this was anything but love making — it was filthy, sinful.

when you pull away from seongje, his fingers move your hair out of your face — like he was your loving boyfriend. for a moment, he admires you; he wonders how a pretty face like this went under his radar. even in this horrible lighting, you're absolutely breathtaking.

he'd never say that shit, though.

"i'll clean you up," he's the first to speak. "you look like a fucking mess."

you land a weak smack to his chest and it only pulls a smile from him: one that's genuine instead of mocking. "like you're any better."

"sure. but you should probably cover those up before tomorrow," his thumb grazes the hickeys on your neck, observing. "not a good look after a fresh break up, no?"

"i wish you'd just beat me up when i bumped into you that day."

geum seongje snickers at your little joke. you're too adorable for your own good. he doesn't laugh, but his hand reaches for your jaw, pulling you in for a kiss that makes your heart pound.

it's genuine. you know because you feel his lips curl into a small smile against yours, and it earns a giggle from yours. he's sweet when he allows himself to be.

it almost makes you forget that you just got your shit rocked by the same man.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

the following day almost kills you. you can barely walk without your thighs turning to jelly, and you curse geum seongje's name in your head every time that happens.

after cleaning you up, he sent you home and pressed a kiss onto your forehead before he left. you admit you might have fucked up in letting that happen.

"you can go first, y'know. you don't have to watch me go in. . ." you scratch your neck, eyes avoiding his.

seongje chuckles, kissing your forehead before he tucks your hair behind your ear. "you're a vulnerable girl."

you roll your eyes, sensing the undertone of sarcasm he has. still, your heart flutters when you feel his lips graze your skin again. "just go, asshole."

"goodnight, baby," he makes sure to emphasise the baby. he laughs loudly before turning on his heels and walking down the street, humming as he faded. you see his figure take a box of cigarettes out from his pocket, smoke soon following him.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

the months that follow are confusing. rumours have started to circulate around ganghak that geum seongje has taken a liking to you — and you can see why that is.

he's a strange guy. he follows you home from school and cram class, but he's just far enough to seem like a creep instead of your boyfriend. he goes up to your table between classes to scribble stupid doodles on your books, using your pencil. you only grumble, instead of telling him off or cursing him — which is what you've been known to do with guys who didn't leave you alone.

god, you'd even sneak into supply closets just to make out. it was getting ridiculous. you thought it'd just be a fling, and you were sure it was — but when seongje's whispering sweet praises in your ear, making sure you eat well, and teaching you how to defend yourself... how could you stay firm on that belief?

"so you stand like this," he adjusts your legs. it's a random saturday night when geum seongje realises that he isn't always going to be there — that he'd rather you be able to protect yourself if he was unavailable. his touch lingers far too long on your thighs and waist to maintain that teacher-student professionalism, though.

"yeah, nevermind. i'll teach you another time." before he starts to take off his shirt. you could only burst out laughing as he looks at you, clueless.

you can't help it. something about him makes you feel safe, watched over. you don't drink anymore after that night, but you know he's going to be around the corner if you do (you know this because he insisted you call him whenever you were going to consume alcohol).

at first, you were confident geum seongje was playing with you — and you still think so. perhaps it's a little stupid and immature to let yourself live in a delusion, but it just feels too damn good to let go.

jeongyeon has started to suspect you. at first, she was brushing everything off — no, of course [name] would never like geum seongje! she's not the type!

oh, but when she catches you smiling at seongje's ridiculous texts... she raises an eyebrow. it's gotten to a point where she can't defend you from the girls whispering your name.

"are you fucking crushing on this guy?" she blurts out one sunny afternoon. you're sitting next to the basketball court on campus, watching some freshmen years play around — you can tell they've just joined the club. "just tell me."

"what guy?" the sounds of you sipping chocolate milk from a carton muffle your defensiveness. "i don't know who you're talking about."

"dude. . . do you think i don't see what's going on with you and that psycho?"

"he's not a psycho. he's pretty sweet," you roll your eyes, looking away from the conversation. "you'd know if you talked to him."

she gives you a concerned look. "when did this even start?"

"uh. . . well," you scratch the back of your head, sniffling before you break the news. it'd been 5 months since that day. "i kinda slept with him a bit ago. like. . . 5 months ago."

"are you fucking kidding? wasn't that when you broke up with your ex?" she bursts out laughing, not believing her ears. "ooh, it had to be good."

"yes, it was fucking amazing," you cover your face with your hands, and you both squeal like fangirls watching their favourite drama. you feel the blush creep up on your face, your cheeks burning hot, and you don't dare to show jeongyeon how hard you've fallen. "god, it was so good—but he hasn't even asked me to do anything since then, i'm kinda worried."

as jeongyeon opens her mouth to reply, your phone dings four times in a row.

jeongyeon's looking at you, and then your phone, signalling for you to answer. "geum?"

you pick it up, your face unlocking the device instantly.

asshole geum seongje: hey

asshole geum seongje: im ag the nurses office

asshole geum seongje: i beat up your ex lol

asshole geum seongje: took out a penknife and cut my cheek, fucking asshole cant even use his fists

the gasp that escapes your lungs tells jeongyeon everything she needs to know, and in the next second you're sprinting in the direction of the nurse's office.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

you slide the door to the nurse's office open, finding geum seongje sitting on the couch with his phone in his hands — playing that stupid mobile game he's been addicted to for weeks.

"oh, hey," he looks up at you, shutting his phone off. you're surprised at that. "missed you, pretty girl."

your hands rest on your hips, giving him a stern look that you'd only see on a mother's face. "what are you doing here? what do you mean you got into another fight — with that loser out of all people?"

you take a seat next to him, your hands reaching for his face. he doesn't flinch when your thumb grazes his bandaid. "you're so stupid, geum seongje."

after you two got involved, you noticed that he'd been fighting less — reduced union meetings, more time spent lazing around your bedroom while he left his clothes all over your floor. you knew he had to give some things up if he could show up that often.

his eyes soften when he looks at you, leaning into your palm.

it's baffling, the way the evening sunlight shines on him through the window — specks of dust float in the air, but you're more focused on how his brown hair shines so beautifully. you're amazed at how every kind of light seems to bless seongje's features, but you think this has to be your favourite: golden sun kissing his skin.

"i love you."

you blink. "huh?"

"i said i love you, [name]."

you think you're dreaming — this had to be made up. it's no wonder he looks too good. "you're not real."

when geum seongje leans in to press a tender, passionate kiss to your lips, you think you're definitely hallucinating. this was a scene right from your dreams, like that one two months ago where you went on a picnic date and he rode with you on a pony.

he pulls away just enough to touch noses. "i'm real."

your hands push his shoulders away, and he laughs at your shocked expression — you're still so adorable to him, even after all these months of knowing you. the blush on your face gives him all the confidence he needs to press another kiss to your lips, this time much quicker.

"anyway, since you're so concerned: that boyfriend of yours was talking about how insufferable you were," his tongue pokes the inside of his cheeks. "just asking for it, honestly. dragged him to the bathroom and dealt with it, though. think he's still there."

your face is one of disbelief, jaw hung as seongje continues describing the events: "he said he was too good for you. shit, i think he passed out like 2 punches in."

"are you fucking kidding me, seongje?" you smack his shoulder, and he only smirks at you in response. "you can't just beat people up like that."

"you're forgetting how we met."

"don't even bring that up," your eyebrows furrow, trying to cover the intense blush that you know makes seongje all prideful. "why the hell would you do that?"

"cause i can't stand him," seongje shrugs. "it was fun seeing him cry, really top tier stuff—"

your hands pinch his thigh and he hisses. you know you'd be dead if you were anyone else. "you're lucky i love you too, geum seongje. . . i'd really kill you if i didn't—"

"oh?"

your eyes go wide before you shut them, realising what just left your mouth: the boy is never going to let you live this down. when seongje's fingers force your eyelids open, you can't unsee how flushed he is.

"you love me?" and that familiar, cheshire smile makes something bubble inside. "ooh, how long were you planning to hide that from me?"

you're admitting your insecurities to him, thoughts that you've kept to yourself for months in fear of rejection: "i just thought you weren't. . . the relationship type. you told me that a long time ago."

"i'm not." seongje admits.

a pit grows in your stomach. this must be where it all ends — he tells you to keep it casual, and you'll forget each other when you graduate. you don't know if you'll survive that kind of heartbreak, never seeing geum seongje again.

you're prepared to tell him to end things here, until his slender fingers reach for your hair — he tucks it behind your ear before pressing a kiss on your forehead. "so i'm sorry if i make a few mistakes."

"huh?"

"what the fuck is with you today? has your hearing gotten worse?" seongje's index finger reaches into your ear, and you squirm and giggle at the ticklish sensation. you push him away, and he feels fuzzy seeing you laugh. "i said i'm not a very good boyfriend, [name]."

"who's boyfriend are you, huh?" you make a fist at seongje's face, and he can only grin. he pushes his glasses up.

his expression is vulnerable. you can tell he's biting the inside of his lip, thinking of an answer — for once, geum seongje waits for someone else.

"you know you want me, [name]."

all he'd been used to most of his life was not fitting in. people looked at him like he was a monster — na baekjin's shield who would never have his loyalty reciprocated. a lone wolf who would never need anybody. eventually, he thought he'd stop trying all together.

yet, recently, geum seongje has been feeling like someone is on his side — despite all his fuck ups, despite all his flaws, despite him. a shoulder to lean on when he's too tired to stand, a hand to wipe his tears when he feels shut out from the world.

so when he sees you smile wide, ears turning a shade of bright red — he lets hope take over his being: a mistake he has paid for millions of times in the past.

"i do," the girl in front of him mutters, "i do want you."

geum seongje’s hands are quick as light; his right hand lifts her chin, and he kisses her gently, like it might be the last time.

gawd this is PREPOSTEROUSLY long. but i hope u guys enjoyed it fr fr... reblogs appreciated with a kiss