#joyracha

The snowy mountains come into focus as you’re riding in the passenger seat of Minho’s car. The car radio is playing some old indie rock band you like, and the windows are cracked slightly to let a cool breeze in. You look over at Minho, his blonde strands of hair swaying underneath his beanie, and everything feels much better than it did a week ago.

Because a week ago, you found out your boyfriend was cheating on you. A week before Valentine’s Day. You’d been with him for a couple of years, and even considered moving in together, until you found out. It shattered you, of course it did, but one phone call later your best friend was at your doorstep with pudding and tissues to console you.

Minho was always there for you. From grade school to college to now, there was never a doubt in your mind that if you needed him, he’d come. Even when the two of you were in relationships, you took the space you needed out of respect for your partners but always made an effort to hang out every once in a while. Your ex didn’t like him, said he was cold and made bad jokes. But that’s just Minho.

He looks over at you and turns the radio down. Your temple is pressed to the glass and you’re staring blankly at the passing trees.

“You okay?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Yeah,” you let out with a sigh, looking over to him and cracking a shy smile. “I’m just excited for this weekend.” He reaches over to grab your hand and give it a light squeeze. 

His presence alone has been your sole source of comfort the past week, coming over after work almost daily with takeout in hand and a box of tissues. Most of the time you don’t really talk, you just sit together on the couch and watch movies until you’re ready to go to sleep.

“Try not to think about it too much, yeah?” he says, grabbing your coffee from the cup holder and handing it to you. You smile at him, his kindness always catching you off guard but never taken for granted by you. The little things matter, you think to yourself.

The car pulls down a dirt road and you drive a couple of miles before reaching the cabin. It’s a quaint log cabin, with a good size deck and a cozy fireplace. It’s older, but charming and cozy. Plus, the owners just installed a hot tub on the back deck with a beautiful view of the snowy mountains. You told Minho the hot tub was non-negotiable, and he complied.

You step into the cozy atmosphere, the lights flickering on as you take in the space. It’s really small. Which is what you get when you book a trip during Valentine’s Day weekend with only a couple days notice. Your eyes flick from the kitchen to the small sofa, up to the loft overhead where you see the bed taking up most of the space up there.

“Minho, where am I sleeping?” You ask him as you realize there’s no way there’s another bedroom in this cabin.

“You can sleep upstairs, I’ll take the couch,” he says smiling as he lugs your duffel bag over his head to put in the loft.

“Minho, you’re taking me on this trip, at least take the bed,” you complain to him. That sofa fits maybe two people, and you know it’ll kill his neck if he’s on it all weekend. “I’m small enough to fit on that tiny ass couch anyway.”

“We can switch off, just take it tonight and I’ll take it tomorrow.” He squeezes your shoulders and smiles, as he continues to lug his bag and some groceries in. You offer to help, but of course, he declines and tells you to lay out on the couch. You pull out your phone for some doom scrolling, but sure enough the tiny letters at the top say “No Signal”. He knew if you had internet access you’d spend all weekend obsessing over what your ex was doing, who he was doing it with. 

Minho finishes unpacking his things into the kitchen and storage chest in the living area and settles down with you on the couch. You lean your head on his shoulder and he lets out a sigh. “Thank you for doing this for me,” you say quietly once the silence started getting comfortable.

“That’s what friends are for,” he says back, planting a kiss on the top of your head. This kind of physical affection was nothing new to the two of you, often getting mistaken for being a couple in public. You never corrected anyone, but it made you giggle a little bit. You showed it much less if either of you were in relationships, but became a lot touchier if you were sad. It always made you feel better knowing he’d never shy away from you when you really needed it. 

As the sky started to darken, and you both had comfortably showered and settled into pjs, Minho got started on dinner. Bulgogi and rice with a side of cucumber salad, one of your comfort meals. He was an incredible cook, he knew how to make everything taste perfect and timed everything so it all came out the perfect temperature when it was time to eat.

You followed him like a puppy, hovering over him and resting your chin on his shoulder. He moved around you with ease, sometimes moving you out of the way so he didn’t hit you as he turned. You tried to sneak a few bites in, but he always smacked your hand out of the way. 

“Ay, not yet!” he said as he playfully shooed you away. You whined a bit, but moved to the other side of the kitchen to grab a bottle of wine and pour into glasses for each of you.

The air shifts when you sit down to eat. He knows what’s on your mind, and he tries to talk about your plans for the weekend to distract you. It helps some, until you stop talking and it feels even more awkward. 

“You deserve much, much better than whatever that guy had to offer,” he mentions, like he already knows your mind has slipped back into thinking of your ex. You realize how little time you’ve spent with Minho the past few years, and you feel a tinge of guilt.

“I’m sorry I haven’t really tried to see you,” you say apologetically. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m just using you because I’m lonely or something.”

“Don’t apologize, I know how it is. Plus, that guy hated me,” he lets out a laugh. “I’m surprised I got to see you at all. I’m just glad we’re here now.” You admire the way he’s able to say things so matter-of-factly, like nothing ever bothers him. You intend to adopt his mindset for the weekend, and maybe even the foreseeable future.

You help Minho clean up dinner and when you start to settle again, he leans close to you and whispers, “Last one in the hot tub has to make breakfast.”  You let out a gasp and run up to the loft to change into a bathing suit, and he sprints to the bathroom. He always has a trick up his sleeve.

You meet at the glass door that leads to the deck and you both stop to look outside. It’s freezing, and the hot tub is at least 20 feet across the deck. You turn to him and you both smile, lunging for the door handle at the same time. You were not losing this.

You’re both shoving each other as your bare feet patter on the wood deck. He reaches the steps before you do, and you tug his swim shorts down and slip past him before he can make it in.

“Ya! That’s so unfair,” he laughs, splashing water at you as he pulls his shorts back up and sits down.

“C’mon, you know you don’t want my burnt ass eggs in the morning,” you sputter out, laughing with him.

He relaxes in the seat next to you, your thighs brushing his. You slouch a bit to get as much of your body in the warm, bubbly water as possible. It’s incredibly relaxing, your shoulders feeling looser already as you look up at all the stars in the sky and just exist alongside him.

Minho lets out a long sigh next to you. “You know, I think I really needed this too,” he says. You tilt your head to face him and study his expression. He looks relaxed, but like there’s something he’s not telling you. 

“Trouble in paradise?” you ask him, referring to his own relationship. He and his girlfriend have been on again off again for what feels like a decade at this point. 

“Uh…I’ve been single for about six months now,” he says. You jerk your head up, and your jaw drops. Six months? Has it really been that long since you last spoke?

“Minho! Why didn’t you tell me?” you exclaim, giving him a playful slap to the shoulder. “I would’ve been there for you!”

“It’s fine, I’m over it now. I had a lot of things to think through on my own.” He’s holding eye contact with you, and you scan his face for any sign he might be lying. He’s so damn hard to read, always making it seem like he’s okay even when he isn’t.

“Still, I’m sorry to hear about it. I…liked her.”

“Liar.”

“No, seriously, she was…nice.”

“You groaned the last time we got back together.”

“I just didn’t like how you kept going back to her.” Your voice is softer now, like you didn’t want him to fully hear you. “Like she’d dump you, and then come running back and apologize like it made up for all the hurt she caused. She didn’t deserve you.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments. He rests his elbow on the edge of the tub to fully face you, and his hand comes up to trace circles on your shoulder. He takes a deep breath like he’s nervous for what he’s about to say next.

“She tried calling me a few weeks ago. I didn’t answer. I think I’ve been done for a long time now, I just needed some clarity.” He’s smiling now, and you can tell a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

“As long as you’re happy, that’s all I care about,” you smile back at him. He scoots closer to pull you into a hug, and you feel yourself relax even further into him. His shoulders feel firmer than the last time you saw each other. He even dyed his hair blonde. You wonder if anything else has changed about him, too. 

“I’m happy when I’m with you,” he whispers to you, and for the first time all week, you feel like everything will be okay.

You wake up to the smell of eggs, not burning, and fresh coffee being made below you. The loft setup was neat, you could look straight through the massive windows and see the mountains towering over the cabin, or lean against the railing and watch Minho cooking. This morning you chose the latter.

He was humming to himself and dancing a bit, swaying his hips and moving his shoulders to whatever rhythm was in his head. You liked watching him being his goofy self, not a care in the world, despite the heavier conversations you’ve had recently.

“Don’t burn the eggs,” you call down, still groggy from sleep. He looks up at you, his startled expression turning into a smile.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he chirps, ears turning red at the fact that you probably caught him dancing. “Breakfast is ready.”

You gather yourself, brush your teeth, and throw on warmer clothes before going downstairs. The food is warm and delicious, and you’re silently glad to be taken care of. Minho is always so attentive, and it’s nice being the one taken care of for a change.

“What’s the plan for today?” you ask him, stuffing your mouth with eggs.

He responds with a shrug. “Whatever you want to do!” For being such a good planner, he was still willing to let loose and go with the flow. You appreciated him for not coming up with any kind of strict schedule for the two of you.

You both settled on going for a morning walk in town before skiing at the local resort. The town was a quaint ski town, with lots of tourists during the winter months. The shops were older, Tudor-style buildings nestled in the low valley between the mountains. A light layer of snow coated the buildings, and the atmosphere was calm despite there being more people than usual.

The two of you just strolled around, making your way through some of the shops. It started getting crowded in the late morning, so Minho suggested taking a stroll through the park. It being the middle of winter, the paths were clear of people and only a light layer of snow on the ground. 

“This is nice,” you say quietly, referring to the quiet environment and the surrounding park. In the springtime, the gardens bloomed and the sun shone brightly on the area. But it was still nice, even without the flowers' pretty colors.

Minho stopped at a rose bush on the side of the path. The roses had a dusting of snow on them, and you were curious how they had survived so long. He reached his hand out and plucked one of the stems with a red rose attached to it. He twirled it between his fingers, and gently handed it to you.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, careful to avoid the thorns as you took the rose from him.

“Delicate yet strong. Like you,” he said nonchalantly, flashing you a smile. You stopped in your tracks for a moment while he kept walking forward. It was such a small gesture, but it meant so much. He still saw you as someone with a lot of strength, despite how broken you’ve felt lately. Minho was good at that.

He kept walking forward as you trailed a few paces behind him. Towards the end of the path he stopped suddenly, turning toward you with wide eyes.

“Do you hear that?” he asked. You shook your head.

He crept closer to the bushes and crouched down. You crouched down with him, unsure of what you were supposed to be looking at. A few moments later a grey tabby cat emerged, and slowly walked towards you two. Minho dipped into his pocket and pulled out a Churu packet, opening it and beckoning the cat closer.

“You just…have those with you?” you asked, puzzled.

“I like making friends with them,” he said, as the cat brushed up against his leg and started eating the treat. Minho the cat whisperer, you thought to yourself. It was endearing seeing him care for such an innocent creature. He scratched the cat's head, cooing at it lovingly. You just looked at him, a wide grin on his face, completely in his element. 

And suddenly, you realize this is all you ever wanted. A calm, quiet kind of love. Not one that sneaks up on you, but one that was always there.

You’re standing at the top of the snowy hill, dressed in snow gear from head to toe, skis strapped to your feet and poles in hand. You look over at Minho while he’s strapping his snowboard to his boots.

“Ready?” He asks, fastening his helmet to his head. You were not ready. You’ve gone skiing a couple of times in your life, but you always forgot how to do anything the second you found yourself back on the hill. 

You shake your head at him, slightly terrified, but mostly excited. “Just remember, pizza!” He says, referring to the position he taught you for slowing down.

“Are you sure this is a beginner hill?” you say to him, questioning your choices.

“Define beginner,” he laughs back.

“Minho!” “I’m kidding! Look, there's a 6-year-old who can do this hill. You’ll be fine. I’m right behind you.”

That makes you feel slightly better, but you take a deep breath and head down the hill anyway. You want this weekend to be fun for both of you.

It only takes a second for muscle memory to kick in, and then you’re moving down the slope with ease. You’re on the side of the hill, away from all the people, and you’re calling back to Minho about how much fun you’re having. You catch a glimpse of him gliding down the hill on his snowboard, snow kicking up with every graceful movement, hips moving effortlessly as he maneuvers around people. You can’t help but smile to yourself, he looks so happy.

You both go up and down the hill for a couple of hours before you begin to tire. “One more, then lunch?” Minho says to you on the ski lift. Right when you nod your head to agree, you see him wince as he stretches his neck and shoulders.

“Minho, if the couch is killing your back, let me sleep on it tonight,” you say, rubbing his shoulder. You could tell his shoulder was bothering him, and you could only imagine how his back was feeling after a day of snowboarding as well.

“I’m fine,” he says assuringly. “Truly, I want you to be comfortable. It’s only a couple of nights.” He’s so damn stubborn. You roll your eyes, but you know when his mind is set on something, it’s hard to change it. 

You slide off the ski lift for the last time and start to head down the hill, Minho trailing not far behind. The day stayed mostly overcast, but the trees and mountains against the clouds were beautiful. You glide down the hill with ease, slowing to watch as people learn to ski and snowboard. Everyone seemed so happy.

You don’t notice the rock hiding at the edge of the tree line until you crash into it, losing your balance, and faceplant into the snow. You roll a couple of times, but luckily you were towards the end and there wasn’t much hill left to tumble down. The snow stings your face, and you feel a brutal pain in your shoulder as you come to realize what just happened.

Minho screams your name as he rushes over to help. “Shit, are you okay?” he asks as he frantically unstraps himself from his board and kneels beside you. 

You’re able to roll over on your back, letting out a groan as the pain throughout your body starts to hit. You’re positive there will be bruises on your ribs when you wake up tomorrow. He helps you up, takes off your skis, and supports you as you step out of them. Your legs feel fine, but your upper body aches. He drapes one of your arms over his shoulder and holds your waist firmly as he walks you over to the medic tent.

“I’m okay, really, I promise,” you say to the staff member as he’s checking you out. You’re definitely in pain, and Minho is certainly not convinced.

“It’s just a precaution, to make sure you have no concussion or broken bones,” the staff member says to you as he feels around your ribs. Minho’s holding your hand, tracing small circles with his thumb, watching you intently. You have a feeling that it’s more for him than it is for you, but you still enjoy the comfort, especially with someone poking at all the places that hurt.

“Nothing’s broken or bleeding, but you’ll definitely have some nasty bruises in the morning,” the medic says to you. “A warm bath and ice for any swelling, and go to the hospital if anything gets worse.” You nod your head at him and put your jacket back on, and Minho helps you out of the tent.

“Minho, I can walk just fine,” you laugh as he’s still holding you up by your waist, walking you back to the car. He makes eye contact for a moment, and you study his face. He’s flushed, no doubt from the cold and exercise, and his hair is messy from the helmet. A look of worry is plastered on his face, but he lets you go gently. 

You walk on your own back to the car, but he still helps you into your seat and buckles you in. You stop protesting so much. He likes being helpful, and he’s clearly worried about you, no matter how much you assure him that you’re fine.

The caretaking doesn’t stop back at the cabin, either. Not that you expected it to, or even wanted it to. It was nice having him fawn over you. It made you feel loved in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. He helps you inside the house and sits you down in a chair to help you take off your boots and winter gear. He walks you into the bathroom and starts a bath for you, and gently tugs on your shirt to lift it over your head. Your hand reacts before your brain can catch up, stopping him.

“Let me take a look,” he says gently, scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. He’s seen you shirtless countless times, for years now, in swimsuits where you’re wearing much less clothing. This, however, feels more intimate. You nod your head at him, letting him take your shirt off and inspect your torso.

A bright red splotch crawls up your side, already starting to turn purple around your ribs. You hiss at the contact, his hands still cold from outside.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, moving your shirt to the counter. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes, but it’s fine, your hands are just cold,” you say, laughing a bit at how apologetic he is.

“Does it hurt anywhere else?”

“My shoulder, I think I landed on it funny.”

“Yeah, the judges gave it a 6/10.” You smack him at that one.

“I’m serious, it hurts.” You whine, and he moves your hair and shifts to your right to get a closer look.

“It’s red, and it’ll probably bruise tomorrow. Good thing you’re taking the bed!” He smiles at you like he’s won the argument you’ve been having the whole weekend. You roll your eyes at him, but you can’t disagree.

“We can share, okay? No more bad shoulders for us, we only have 2/4 left,” you tell him, trying to be stern. He raises his eyebrow at you.

“If you wanted to get me into bed, you should’ve just asked—”

“Get out!” You smack him playfully, and he holds his hands up in surrender as you shoo him out of the room.

The bath is nice and the warm, bubbly water eases a lot of the pain you just endured. Your mind wanders to the events of the last few hours, how everything happened. How Minho’s face looked when you fell. How he held you up, how he held your hand, how he touched your skin, how close he got to your face. You feel your heart beating faster when you snap out of it and climb out of the tub. 

Minho already has dinner made when you get out. A nice hearty soup, it’s warm and smells heavenly. You both sit at the table, your hair’s still wet from the bath and he’s still in his ski clothes.

“Thank you,” you say as you sip on the soup. Minho’s the best cook you know, and you’re thankful that he’s the one taking charge in the kitchen.

After dinner is cleaned up, he showers, changes into comfy clothes, and pours you both a glass of wine to help you wind down from the day. You’re playing cards at the coffee table by the fireplace and just chatting away.

“My mom called, says she misses you,” he says gently.

“Tell her I miss her too, and now hopefully I can come and see her now that…” you say, trying not to mention your ex. You realize it’s the first time you’ve really thought about him all day. And the first time it doesn’t make you sad.

He looks at you with sorrow in his eyes. You gently place your hand on his, and look at him to say, “I’m okay, I promise. I’ve been having so much fun I haven’t even thought about him until just now.”

“That’s good. You already know you deserve better,” he says, placing his other hand on yours.

“I know,” you nod. “You too.”

The bathroom sink lights flicker slightly while you change into your pjs. You can’t stand wearing pants to bed, no matter how cold it is outside. The big t-shirt you wear hides not much more than your butt, hitting right along your middle thigh.

Minho’s lying on the couch when you come out. “I don’t think so, mister,” you say to him sternly. He looks at you, smirk on his face, and you gesture to the loft above.

“Fine, but you’re a space heater in your sleep, stay on your side of the bed,” he says back, rolling his eyes.

You get situated on the inside of the bed closest to the railing, and Minho climbs in after you. He breathes out a sigh of relief, feeling exhausted after a long ass day. Your heart starts racing as you both lie there, inches apart.

“Goodnight,” you say, turning to him.

“Goodnight, sweet dreams,” he says back to you. An eerie quiet falls over the cabin. It’s pitch black save for the bit of moonlight that peeks through the trees, and you can hear his breathing as it steadies.

You move your hand ever so slightly until you feel his, and just hold it there. He laces his fingers between yours and you can feel your pulse quicken, and your breath getting shaky. Neither of you moves or speaks, and once the nerves die down you quickly drift off to sleep.

You jolt awake in the middle of the night, absolutely freezing despite being under several layers of blankets. You sit up to try and investigate, but your bruised torso starts aching when you try. Minho stirs beside you as you let out a low groan.

“Minho,” you whisper, trying not to startle him. It doesn’t work, and he’s still fast asleep. You resort to nudging him with your foot.

“Ay!” he lets out as he jolts awake. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He immediately comes to and leans over to look at you.

“Uh…it’s just really cold in here,” you whisper, putting your cold foot on his leg.

“Jesus, your feet are cold. Let me see what’s wrong with the heat.” He gets up and throws his hoodie on, and heads downstairs to check it out. You hear him flick the lights on, but the room stays dark.

“Well, that’s probably why,” he says, laughing in disbelief. You lean over the edge of the railing and you see what he’s talking about. The snow outside is coming down hard. The wind is knocking the tree tops together, and you can only assume the whole town is without power.

Minho lets out a deep breath and heads over to the fireplace. He put out the fire hours ago, but the cabin is small enough that he’s hoping it’ll give you both at least a bit of heat upstairs. You watch as he takes firewood from the stack and kindles the fire. He starts the fire and makes sure the screen is tight and that there’s nothing that can easily catch in front of it. 

He comes back upstairs with an extra set of blankets and leans over the bed to throw one of them over you. You’re shivering, even under three layers of blankets, praying for warmth. 

The bed dips as he climbs back into it, and he snakes his arm under your head to pull you close, taking care not to put weight on your bad shoulder. Your head settles into his chest and you catch a whiff of his cologne, the smell of him makes your heart flutter. 

“What are you doing?” You whisper against him as he holds you tight. He rests his chin on the top of your head, letting out a deep breath. Surely he can feel your heart pounding out of your chest. 

“I’m keeping you warm,” he says simply, but you catch the faintest sense of nervousness in his voice. Your hand is on his side, and you slowly move it under the hem of his shirt. His skin is warm, and he hisses at the contact of your cold hand.

You pull back slightly to look up at him, your hand drifting across his abs. You didn’t notice that he had a six pack the other night in the hot tub, but your skin grows warmer as you trace every single muscle. His breathing gets shakier with every moment that passes, and he opens his eyes to look at you. 

His hand comes up from your back to move a stray strand of hair out of your face, and then rests gently cupping your jaw. You’re not sure what might happen, what it might mean, but you know that you want it. You want him.

You can’t stop staring at his lips. They’re perfectly plump, pink, and parted slightly so his front teeth peek out. He’s only inches from your face, and you bite your lip to refrain from babbling nonsense. You’re too nervous to make the first move, or to say anything really. 

You don’t have to say anything. He already knows by the way you’re looking at him, eyes full of want. He looks at you the same way. You’re holding your breath now in anticipation, waiting for him. He leans in slowly, scanning your face just before you touch, just in case you want to pull back. You respond by closing your eyes and he closes the gap. Your lips meet, and you exhale into him.

The kiss is tender, gentle in a way that’s precious. You’re only slightly stiff for a moment before relaxing into his touch, your lips moving in rhythm with his. It’s better than you could have ever dreamed of, and the only thing that matters is this moment right here, right now.

He pulls back for only a moment. “Jagiya,” he whispers. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Don’t stop,” you reply. 

The next kiss is hungrier, and his hand drifts down to your thigh, hiking it over his side. You grind into him on reflex and you can feel how hard he is beneath his sweatpants. You let out a moan into his mouth and he moves his hand to squeeze your ass, guiding you as you move against him.

You move your hand to his neck, deepening the kiss as your tongue meets his. He tastes delicious, and you move your hips harder and faster into him. He lets out a moan pulling you hard against him.

Your body feels like it’s on fire now, and you need more of him now. You feel your cunt throbbing against his length, and you tug his shirt up to take it off. He rolls you on your back gently, breaking the kiss to kneel above you to yank it off. He pulls up on the hem of your shirt next, and you sit up slightly to help him get you out of it.

The cold air hits you and your nipples harden immediately. He continues to kiss you, resting on his arm and moving his other hand to knead your breast. You moan at the contact and wrap your legs around his hips to bring him closer to the spot you’re on fire. His mouth moves down your jawline, leaving a trail of soft kisses. He gets to your neck and you lean your head to give him better access. He kisses and sucks on it gently, and your moans get louder and higher pitched. Everything is so much, and yet not enough. The friction between your legs causes a heat in your belly to pool, and you scratch at his back as his hips continue to roll into yours.

“Minho, please,” you whimper. “I need you.”

“Okay, jagiya. Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers against your skin. You nod your head frantically as you pull him back into another kiss.

He takes his hand from your chest and gently moves it down your body. You start to tremble, desperate to feel him between your legs. His fingers ghost against your core and you feel the wetness of your panties sticking to your folds. His mouth dips down to your chest as he licks across your breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. You gasp, and your hands fly to his hair, gripping slightly as he moves against you.

He brings his head up and moves his hand away from your heat, and you whimper at the loss. His hands come up and he takes two fingers into his mouth, wetting them gently. His hand comes back down, slips underneath your panties, and he sinks them into you.

“Fuck, Minho,” you gasp as he fucks into you slowly, lowering his head back down to your breast, sucking gently on your neglected nipple. “Oh my god, that feels so good.” He responds by humming against you, and you can’t help but buck into his touch.

“So needy,” he says as he pulls back, looking up at you. “Let me take my time with you, jagi.” You whine at him and pull him back into another kiss. He slips a third finger into you and your eyes roll back into your head, your stomach knotting as he picks up his speed.

His thumb makes contact with your clit and your muscles tighten, your whimpers louder and more erratic. “Not yet,” he whispers in your ear as he pulls his hand completely away from you. You’ve completely ruined your underwear at this point, the cool fabric sending a shock through you. He stands off the bed to tug them off of you, tossing them on the floor. He stares at you as he slowly unties his sweats, shimmying them off his hips and onto the floor. You watch as he drops his boxers next, his cock flinging out and against his stomach. He’s huge, and you whimper slightly at the thought of him stretching you out. 

He climbs back on top of you, kissing you again, and you grab onto his waist impatiently. He chuckles into your mouth.

“Are you sure?” he asks again. “I didn’t exactly bring a condom on a trip with my best friend.”

“Aw, I’m touched,” you say sarcastically. “Yes, god Minho please fuck me.” 

He slots himself between your legs and you wrap yours around his waist. He guides himself to your entrance and gently presses in. Only the head is inside and you’re already feeling stretched out. His forehead falls to yours, and you both moan in sync as he enters you. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans as he bottoms out. Your arms wrap around his back as he hovers above you, giving both of you time to adjust.

He starts to move and your stomach heats up again. He’s moving slowly but so deep, you can feel him hit your cervix with every thrust. You feel every drag of his length against his walls, the stretch of him feels so fucking good after all of the buildup.

He picks up the pace and kisses you again, fucking you harder into the mattress. He groans as he feels you squeeze around him. “Fuck, don’t do that, or I’m gonna come.” You do it again deliberately and he lets out a growl. 

He leans back and his hand moves to your clit, rubbing circles around it, applying just enough pressure to let the heat in your belly rise. Your body starts to tingle, and you feel your peak approaching fast. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, holy shit,” you gasp between his thrusts. He applies slightly more pressure, slamming his hips into you. The mattress squeaks loudly underneath you, the sound just barely audible over your moans.

“Minho—fuck, I’m gonna—“ you sputter out.

“It’s okay, come for me. I wanna feel you come around me, jagiya,” he coaxes you as he continues to drive into you, thumb moving fast over your nub.

That does it for you, and soon you're a shaking mess underneath him. Your orgasm crashes over you, and your skin feels electric, the warmth spreading throughout your body. 

“Jesus, I’m coming,” he says as he’s fucking you through your orgasm, finishing inside of you. You feel his cock spasm inside of you as you’re coming down from your high, and he grunts as he falls on top of you, careful to avoid your previous injuries.

“Fuck, jagi, baby, you’re incredible,” he pants, kissing you again. You’re smiling so wide now, kissing him back as he softens inside of you.

“That’s one way to warm up,” you laugh.

He pulls out of you, and you hiss at the contact, leaking all over the mattress. He grabs a towel and cleans you up, being gentle around your sensitive area. He helps you into a (thankfully fresh) pair of panties and his shirt, and he lies back down to pull you against his chest.

The quiet settles around you, still pitch black in the cabin, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s warm, comforting, and everything you’ve been missing.

“I’m an idiot,” he says softly. You raise an eyebrow at him, confused.

“Uh…you are, but why say that now?” you question.

“I spent the better part of a decade trying to make a relationship work, thinking that it would fill the weird emptiness I was feeling,” he starts, looking back at you. “Only to realize the person I wanted, the person I needed, was right in front of me.”

Your breath catches at his confession. “And…when did you realize that?” You pry. 

“About six months ago.” When he finally broke things off with his ex. “I was just waiting for her to realize it, too.” 

He looks back down at you, and you can’t hide the smile on your face. He kisses you again, slowly, and suddenly you realize why it never worked out with anybody else.

“I love you, if that wasn’t obvious,” he chuckles.

“I love you too,” you smile at him, resting into his chest.

This, him, everything, is exactly what you needed.

a/n: valentine’s day present is a bit late but it’s not really themed that way anyway haha. i feel like this was boring so pleaseee tell me if you enjoyed it! thank you to everyone who's shown me so much love these past few weeks, i'm hoping my writing is getting better hahaha ♡

"Jinnie?" you ask as you step into his shared dorm with Changbin. He'd invited you over earlier, but he wasn't waiting for you on the couch like usual. You'd glanced into the kitchen to see if he might be making something, but it was empty as well. So, now you're searching for him.

"In my room!" he calls back. Your heart gives an extra beat at his voice; it had been a few days since you'd last seen each other, so tonight was needed.

You wander toward his room, a very familiar path for you. Inside, you find him tucked into the corner where he likes to paint. He has a nice desk set up, stocked with all of his supplies, and although it's always rather untidy, it only makes his room feel more like home.

You move to stand behind him, wrapping yourself around him carefully as his hand dances over the parchment. The brush moves so beautifully in his hand that you almost fail to pay attention to the actual piece, but when you do, the breath almost leaves your lungs. It's a portrait of two lovers, locked into an embrace, lips pressed against one another. When you look closer, one of them seems to be faintly grinning into the kiss.

"How are you so talented?" you wonder aloud. "This is gorgeous, Hyune..."

"You think so?" He turns his body in your arms, just enough to be able to look at you over his shoulder, brows raised in uncertainty.

"I know so, my love," you reply softly, rubbing his back with a gentle touch.

"You're a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly," he admits shyly, cheeks flushing lightly under your gaze. He wasn't embarrassed per se; you just had that effect on him.

"Really?" The word comes out softly, like a breath, like you were honored to hear such a thing. You were honored.

"Of course. Ever since we met, you've been my biggest inspiration, my muse." You'd thought you couldn't fall any harder for him, but he'd just effectively proved you wrong. He was staring up at you in such a way that left no room for deliberation on what he'd just said. There might as well have been literal stars in his eyes.

"Hyunjin... You inspire me, too. Every day, you inspire me to enjoy the world around me, to embrace the beauty that nature gives us. I'm glad I can be something like that for you, too," you respond sweetly, one hand now cupping his cheek.

His entire being softens at both the touch and your reply, and he moves around so that there's room for you on his lap. "Sit with me while I finish?"

"Always." You kiss his cheek quickly as you sit, making yourself comfortable in his hold. That's how half of your evening is spent, and neither of you would've changed a thing, just loving being in one another's presence.

⋆｡°✩ ───────────────── ✩°｡⋆  

a/n: also is now a good time to say i'm not good at blurbs??this is longer than a blurb but shorter than what i usually write so we're calling it good enough! i'm ALSO bad at endings i feel 💀 but this was fun and i always, ALWAYS enjoy writing for hyunjin! thank you for requesting again and i hope that was enough mushy fluff for you, my love! 🩵

(also sorry no taglist for the blurbs!)

⋆｡°✩ ───────────────── ✩°｡⋆

It can be quite scary to share your thoughts on someone's writing, but here is a way for you to do so completely anonymously!! Please take a moment to fill out this feedback form !! It helps so much more than you know!

Reblogs help as well!! If you feel comfortable with it and enjoyed this fic, please give it a quick reblog!

a/n: idk what this is but i hope you enjoyed LOL ♡

When you lost your job, the first place you had to cut costs was rent. Which fucking sucked, because you hardly know anyone in the city as it is, and the people you did know didn’t need a roommate.

Enter Changbin. He’s a friend of a friend, clean enough, and is always out of the house. Busy guy, your friend Jisung tells you.

“You want me to live with a guy?” you ask your friend over the phone.

“He’s like a walking green flag, calm down. Nice guy, really. He won’t bother you and he’s loaded so he’ll give you a deal,” Jisung explains over the phone. “And those muscles aren’t half bad to stare at.”

“Are you trying to set me up with your friend?” 

“No! I mean, listen, you could use a good lay, but my intentions are pure, I swear!”

You’ve been single for far too long, and Jisung knows that. But the last thing you need is to hook up with the guy who’s supposed to be your new roommate. Whom you don’t even know, by the way.

“I can’t just sleep on yours and Minho’s couch until I find another place?” you ask, hoping to get out of it.

“Absolutely not,” he says sternly. “Changbin is a nice guy, and plus, you wouldn’t want to live here. Minho doesn’t wear pants, like, ever.”

Fine. You’ll take his word for it.

You show up the next day to look at the room. Changbin opens the door and greets you with a smile. Fuck, he’s pretty.

“Uh, hello! You must be Changbin,” you greet him. “It’s nice to meet you, Jisung has told me a lot about you!”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m sorry to hear about your job,” he says. “I’m happy to help if I can.” He steps aside to let you into the apartment.

Jesus Christ, his place is massive. The ceilings have to be at least 15 feet tall, and the massive windows in the living room span the entire wall. It has the most incredible view of the Han River, and you’re almost positive the kitchen counters are 100% marble. And it’s certainly out of your price range.

“The spare room is this way,” he says, motioning down the hallway past the kitchen. He leads you through the apartment, and you catch a glimpse of an office space with a desk covered in music production gear.

The bedroom is huge in comparison to what you’re used to. There’s so much natural light, your houseplants would be in heaven. You could probably fit the entirety of your belongings in this room alone. There’s even a walk-in closet, which you have never, ever had before. It’s great, perfect even, and you’d move in immediately if you could afford it.

“Do you like it?” Changbin asks from the doorway as you’re walking around the room.

You let out a big sigh. “It’s perfect, truly, but it’s definitely out of my price range.” What a shame. A beautiful apartment and a hot roommate? It hurts to walk away from.

“No price,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re in a tight spot, I get it. Don’t even worry about it for the first few months, then you can just pay what you’re comfortable with.”

You stare at him, completely dumbfounded. “I can’t ask you to do that,” you say, shaking your head back at him.

“I’m happy to help. Any friend of Jisung’s is a friend of mine. I mean it, no backpaying needed, let’s just get you on your feet.”

You could kiss him right now, and you just met him. It’s the kindest offer you could ever have dreamed of, especially coming from a complete stranger. You’d normally be wary of something like this, it’s almost too good to be true. But Jisung’s known him for years, and you trust him more than anyone else in the world.

“That’s extremely generous of you, thank you,” you say. “Really, you’re saving me from a much worse fate.”

“It’s no problem, really. I can help you move your stuff, too.”

You almost want to cry tears of joy. Changbin walks you to the door and you say thank you, again, and plan to move in later this week.

The cab hasn’t even pulled away from the building when you call Jisung again.

“I hate you,” you tell him when he picks up the phone.

“What did I do?” he whines.

“You didn’t tell me your friend was hot.”

“I said he had nice muscles!”

You groan into the speaker. You love your friend, but now you’re sure he’s trying to set you up.

“He is, quite literally, exactly my type, Jisung.”

“I’m struggling to find the issue.”

You groan again. “I’m not supposed to want to fuck my roommate,” you say, lowering your voice.

He howls out a laugh. “So you’re taking it, right? His offer?”

“He’s not charging me anything.”

“Yeah, I know. I told you he’s rich.”

It’s still an insane thing to offer a complete stranger. But right now, you’ll take your luck wherever you can get it. Even if that means moving in with a roommate who looks like he’ll get you into a whole lot of trouble.

You moved in two days later, and it was the least stressful move-in day you’ve ever had. Jisung had helped you pack the day before, although he mostly just stood around handing you things to wrap and commenting on your weird trinkets. Changbin had called a truck for you, and also called over Jisung and their friend Chan to help unload it. You didn’t lift a damn finger, but you did buy them a pack of beers to share for the trouble. 

“You really don’t have a lot of stuff,” Changbin comments when all of your boxes and furniture are in your room. Most of the furniture in your old apartment was your roommate’s, but it feels weird all laid out in front of you like this.

“Yeah…I don’t even have a bed frame…” You pout, as the two of you stand in the doorway. You survey what you do have, and it’s not much. An old wood dresser you got from a thrift store, your full-size mattress, and a single nightstand you had in college.

You let out a big sigh. You don’t have much unpacking to do, but you’re a bit drained from the stress, and you’d like to at least lie down for a bit.

“Don’t worry about dinner,” Changbin says as he heads out into the hallway. “I can whip something up for us. I’ll leave you to unpack your things.”

He’s been so kind, and it almost distracts you from the fact that you’re living with a stranger. And that you lost your job. That part still sucks. But you can’t lie, he is really nice to look at. There’s nothing wrong with looking.

Forty-five minutes later, Changbin lets you know that dinner is ready. You’ve been able to smell it the entire time packing, and it smells divine. The spread is pork belly, rice, kimchi, and several other side dishes you’re not used to seeing outside of a restaurant. You’re used to living off of ramen, which makes this a five-star meal. 

“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you say, taking your seat at the island counter.

He lets out a huff of air through his nose. “Uh, this is just how I eat normally.”

“Oh, right…well, still, thank you.” You almost forgot. He’s rich. And apparently, eats like a king daily. 

“You’re welcome.” He sends you a soft smile and joins you at the island counter.

The two of you get to chatting, and you learn a lot about him. He works with Jisung and Chan at his producing studio and is a personal trainer at the gym on the side. He lives alone because, well, he wants to.

You’re unemployed, but he already knows that.

“Sorry for ruining your peaceful atmosphere,” you joke, but there’s a part of you that feels like maybe he said yes because Jisung owed him something.

“No, no, no, it’s okay, really. It’s nice having someone around. It was getting lonely around here. I almost got a dog. And I’m allergic.” 

The evening dissolves into laughter, and you get the feeling that this won’t be as strange as you thought.

It takes several days, but you finally get your stuff out of boxes and organize it the way you like it. Your bedspread is hastily thrown over the floor mattress and your clothes don’t even fill half of the giant closet. You feel out of place, but you shake the feeling and try to be grateful. 

Overall, living with Changbin is really great. You’re home quite a bit, only really leaving the house to pick up food or going to a job interview. He’s pretty busy, like Jisung told you, but he’s home most evenings.

You’re usually watching some tv show, and he takes a second out of his day to sit down and chat with you. It’s nice to have company, your old roommate wasn’t much of a talker. But with Changbin, it’s easy, and nothing feels forced.

“I can’t believe they’re back together again,” he comments as you’re watching a tv show. He mentioned he was never one for dramas like this, but he’d hover behind the couch when you’d watch it out in the living room, making jokes at the stupid situations the characters got themselves into. It took only a week for him to ask you to restart it from the beginning so he could watch the whole thing. You started looking forward to the evenings after that, waiting for him to get back from the gym for your nightly watch party.

The first moment you realize you maybe, possibly, might have a crush on your roommate is during one evening in the kitchen. You can smell something cooking from your room, and it smells delicious, you can’t help but peek around the corner to see what it is. 

Changbin’s at the stovetop cooking, still in his gym outfit, muscles peeking through the fabric. You try not to drool at the sight, quietly walking over to him to see what he’s making. He jumps a bit as he sees you.

“Sorry!” you say apologetically. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, dipping his spoon into the soup he was making. “Can you try this for me? I feel like it needs more salt.”

He takes a couple of steps closer to you, holding his hand under the spoon to catch the drip. You don’t even have a chance to decline before he’s bringing the spoon closer to your face, urging you to take a sip. He blows on it a couple of times to cool it before bringing it to your lips. He’s standing so close, you feel your stomach tie into a knot. You take a sip slowly and carefully, taking note of the flavors. 

“No, I think it’s perfect,” you say, licking your lips. You’re probably not just talking about the soup, but he smiles and thanks you for being his taste tester.

You push any and all thoughts of what those lips might feel like against yours to the side. Roommate, you remind yourself.

The second time is when you bump into him in the hallway, he just showered and has a towel wrapped low around his waist.

“Oh, god! I’m so sorry!” Your eyes naturally drift across his torso, still wet from the shower, before realizing you should definitely not be staring. You shield your eyes and move around him. 

“Sorry! Not used to living with other people.” He scurries into his room and shuts the door. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, and quickly go back to your bedroom. 

You tell yourself it’s just the proximity, that anyone would be feeling this way if they had an attractive roommate parading around half naked. He’s your roommate, you remind yourself. He’s been so kind to you, and he doesn’t deserve the less than respectful stares you’ve been giving him. It’s a temporary situation after all, and it’ll continue to be a good one so long as you don’t cross any lines.

The third time was when it really hit you. You came home from another awful job interview to the sound of tools clanking and something pounding against the floor. Changbin’s room was off to the left of the living room, but the sound was coming from the right. Where your room is.

You set your bag down on the floor and quietly kick off your shoes before rounding the corner. Your bedroom door was propped open, light on, and the banging sounds were coming from in there. 

You’re not sure what you expected to find. Maybe Changbin would be patching some drywall you chipped off by accident. Or maybe the screws on your ceiling fan loosened, and he was tightening them for you.

Changbin’s sitting in the middle of a bunch of pieces of wood, holding a screwdriver in his mouth and fumbling with paper. He didn’t even hear you walk into the house. 

“Uh…hi?” you say to him, standing in the doorway. 

“Oh, hi,” he says, taking the screwdriver from between his teeth and laying the paper to the side.

“Whatcha doin'?”

“Building a bed frame.”

“I see that…why?”

“You didn’t have one.”

“Okay…”

“So I’m building you one.”

“Why?” you question him, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re sleeping on a mattress on the floor,” he says, like the answer is obvious.

“I know, but I could’ve done this myself.”

“I wanted to do something nice for you.”

You feel guilty immediately. You don’t want to be seen as some charity case that someone has to take in and look after, like a burden. “Thank you…I can pay you back for this—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off. “Think of it as a housewarming gift.” He smiles at you as he turns back to the instructions.

“It’s your apartment…” 

“Please just let me do something nice for you.”

“You’re already being nice by letting me stay here!” 

He stands up as you say that, walking towards you, still grinning. His hands come up to your shoulders, and he meets your eyes. “I want to do this.”

You gulp. He’s standing so close you can smell his body wash. His gaze is intense, but you can’t look away. You resort to a nod and a small “thank you”, and he turns to continue working on the bed frame.

“At least let me help you—” You cut yourself off this time when he gives you the biggest sigh, and looks at you like you already know what he’s going to say.  You have a crush on your roommate. Your handsome, incredibly fit, incredibly rich, generous, and kind roommate. What could go wrong?

Everything feels different after that.

You find yourself thinking of him all the time, wanting to make sure you’re already home when he gets home, spending as little time in your bedroom as possible just to hang out with him. You swear you feel him doing it, too. 

It starts innocently. First, he’s grazing the small of your back when he passes behind you in the kitchen. He bumps into you in the hall and grabs your waist to move past you. Your thighs touch his on the couch, and neither of you moves. Plausible deniability.

Until the air conditioning breaks in the middle of a heat wave. Because, of course it would. Now you’re forced to watch him walk around the apartment shirtless and dripping in sweat. Forced is a strong word. More like, your eyes are blessed every waking hour until this gets fixed. Which doesn’t seem to be any time soon, considering the whole city’s affected by rolling blackouts and HVAC issues.

You’re convinced he was put on this earth just to torture you. It’s impossible, really, to be that attractive and walk around like he doesn’t even know it. 

You’re hyper aware of every movement he makes. A drag through his damp hair, him leaning against the counter, muscles flexing. You make every earnest effort not to look, but you can’t help it.

“I’m no better than a man,” you groan, flopping on the bed.

“What’s wrong now?” Jisung asks on the other end of the phone. You had to tell someone, and he’s the one person you feel comfortable enough with who knows you both. 

“Changbin. Shirtless. Like all the time. The AC went out.”

“Again, I’m struggling to see the issue. Dude’s hot, I get it.”

“He’s. My. Roommate.” Emphasis on roommate.

“You’re both single, I don’t see anything wrong with it.” He has a point. “I’m sure if he was uncomfortable, he would’ve said something.”

“I want him to crush my head with his biceps.” The heat is irritating you, and you have no filter. Not that you ever do with Jisung. 

“Jesus Christ, you hornball,” Jisung laughs on the other line. “Maybe you just need to get it out of your system.”

“What?”

“Put a dick in it!” Minho’s voice rings through the speaker. Of course Jisung told him. You’re not even mad, but you’re caught off guard by the statement.

“What?”

“Minho’s right. There’s so much tension built up, you’re psyching yourself out. If you just…put a dick in it…it might go away!”

“I’m not sure about that.” At this point, you wonder if it’s even about how attractive Changbin is, or if you’re starting to genuinely like him. 

“C’mon, you could both use a fun one-night stand. And you wouldn’t even have to leave the apartment!”

“Jisung, he built me a fucking bed frame.”

“Oh.” Yeah, oh. “Ohhhh, I get it. You like him!” You groan at him, again.

“What do I do?” Your hand drags across the side of your face. Hearing Jisung say it out loud makes it real, and now you’re panicking. 

“Girl up! Go get your man!”

You don’t even know what he means by that, and you don’t know if you should even try. Jisung’s just being a good friend, supportive of all your delusions. All you know is that it’s fucking hot in here, but if you see Changbin shirtless one more time, you might accidentally pounce on him.

You peek down the hallway to check that the coast is clear before tiptoeing your way to the kitchen to grab a cold glass of water. You bring the glass up to your face, the condensation running down your forehead and cheek, offering a little relief from the heat. It’s not nearly enough to cool you down, though. You place the glass on the island behind you and open the fridge and freezer doors, and just stand there, eyes closed, taking in the cool air.

“Feeling okay?” You hear Changbin’s voice on the other side of the fridge. And you’re standing with your head inside the fridge looking like an idiot.

You whip the door closed and find him leaning just on the other side of it against the wall, still half-clothed, skin shiny from the heat.

“Oh! Yeah, I was just getting some water,” you sputter out. You’re focusing on his face, and the way sweat is dripping from his hairline, doing anything to desperately not let your eyes wander too far south. You’re trying really hard to be respectful.

It’s like he can hear your thoughts. After a few moments of silence, he lets out a breathy laugh, rubbing his hands through his damp hair. His biceps flex, and you force yourself to grab your glass of water and walk into the living room before you combust.

Your thighs stick to the leather cushions as you sit down. It’s fucking miserable in here, the air is choking you every chance it gets. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any harder to breathe, Changbin comes and sits down next to you. He looks at you, brows furrowed, concerned.

Without saying anything, he leans over and places the back of his hand on your forehead. The movement startles you, and the warmth of his hand hitting your damp forehead sends a buzz through your body.

“You’re overheating,” he says simply, before getting up and going to his room. You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, staring down the hall in confusion. You can hear him rustling around in his room, and a few minutes later, he comes out with a giant fan in hand.

He walks over to the wall to plug it in and angles it towards where you’re sitting on the couch. “There,” he says proudly. “Sorry, I only have the one.”

“Thank you,” you manage to mumble. The air feels good as it hits your skin, even if it’s a bit warm. He keeps standing there for a second, just watching, making sure it’s working properly before walking back into the kitchen.

You sip your water, flipping through various apps on your phone, trying not to think about the heat or the half-naked man in the kitchen. He walks back a couple of seconds later, two popsicles in hand. He unwraps one and hands it to you, plopping back down on the couch.

You’re trying really, really hard to focus on whatever show Changbin decided to throw on. He leans forward in his seat, absentmindedly licking over the sweet treat, and you can’t help but stare. You catch yourself and tear your eyes away, hoping he didn’t notice.

He leans back to make a comment, his knee brushes against yours, and you feel like you’re going to combust. You don’t dare move, hoping he doesn’t notice your skin touching his. Your eyes keep drifting back to him, no matter how hard you try to stay focused. His shorts are tight against his thighs, and you can see the faint outline of his muscles through them. His stomach and chest are on display, thick and firm. His arms are always out, probably as thick as your entire head, and his lips—

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin. Your eyes dart up to his, and he’s looking at you. He definitely just saw you staring. Fuck.

“N-no! No, you’re good.” Nice save. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He finishes his popsicle and throws the stick on the coffee table with the remaining trash.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low and far too casual.

“Yeah, it’s just—hot.” You don’t know if you’re talking about the literal temperature of the room, him, or both.

“It’s melting.” He nods his head towards the abandoned popsicle in your hand. You haven’t even taken a single bite, just letting it melt down your wrist. God, you’re so down bad for him, it’s not even funny anymore.

You snap out of whatever trance you were in previously and look at your hand. “Shit.” You chuckle a bit, and your face grows even warmer from embarrassment.

“Let me help.” He smiles at you, inching even closer. He takes the popsicle from your hand and pulls your arm closer to him. Before you can even register what’s happening, he brings your wrist to his mouth and licks the cold juice off with a slow movement.

“It’s sweet,” he comments. What the fuck. Your eyes are locked with his as he cleans you up with his mouth, moving slowly over your palm, before taking two of your fingers in his mouth and sucking slowly. He’s watching your reaction intently. Your lips part, and your thighs press together on instinct as a heat begins to grow inside your body.

“Thank you…,” your voice trails off. You don’t know whether you should move closer or run back into your room screaming.

“This fans not really cutting it, huh?” He gestures to the hunk of metal in the corner. You shake your head with a laugh, because as hard as it’s trying, it’s doing jack shit to help with the actual temperature of the room.

“Lean forward.” He’s fully turned to face you now, one leg folded between the two of you. He gestures for you to move closer, and you do. “Close your eyes.” Your eyes snap shut, painfully aware of how you didn’t even bother to ask why. Your curiosity is getting the better of you. 

He takes the popsicle you didn’t really eat and brings it to your collarbone. The cold sensation against your warm skin makes you gasp, but you keep your eyes closed. He traces a line with the tip of the treat along your collarbone, and you can feel it dripping down your chest. A shiver runs through you, goosebumps raising along your whole body. 

“Better?” he whispers. You nod your head, unable to form the words, and he continues to drag the popsicle along your skin, bringing it lower to the swell of your breast. The cold trickle down your skin feels really good in this heat, but there’s a growing ache between your legs you can’t stop thinking about.

The empty stick lands on the coffee table, and your eyes snap open. You’re breathing heavier than is considered normal, and Changbin is inches from your face. His eyes are tracing down your neck, watching the liquid drip down under your tank top.

“Can I?” he asks, leaning closer. Again, you nod your head, watching as he leans in. His mouth meets your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to lap up the mess. You shudder under his touch, and your hands fly up to his shoulders. Everything is hot—his mouth, his skin, your body. 

You moan as he works his way between your breasts, throwing your head back. Your brain is foggy, only able to focus on him. 

“Is this okay?” he says softly against your skin. The cool air hits the spots he’s licked away, sending tingles through your body. You nod aggressively, squeezing his shoulders to ask for more.

He leans you back against the couch’s armrest, moving a pillow behind you, before he dips back down to lap at your neck. The mess has been mostly cleaned up, but you’re both too worked up to stop.

He’s sucking softly at your skin, and his hands trail under your tank top. You moan under his touch, pulling him closer to you. He props himself up above you, looking you in the eyes. He pauses a moment, as if asking for permission. You give him a slight nod, and he closes the gap, capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is slow, tentative, careful, as if he hadn’t just had his whole tongue on you moments before. Your hands tangle in his hair, and he moans into your mouth when you tug lightly.

It grows heated quickly. Your legs wrap around his body, encouraging him to put his weight on you. His hand moves further up, squeezing your breast. Every movement makes the heat in your belly grow, and you buck your hips up against him, chasing any kind of friction.

“Bin…please,” you whisper. “More...”

Your hands trail down his sides, guiding his hips down to meet yours. He grinds against you, and you feel him through his shorts, thick and hard. You can feel your insides burning, and you’re already wet for him. He swallows your moans and sits up to pull you onto his lap.

Your lips meet again, moving sloppier and faster than before. He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, and you whimper at the feeling. His hands are everywhere—your chest, your ass, your thighs. He’s grabbing and kneading at your skin, sending a buzz through you. 

“You made it…so hard not to touch you,” he grunts between kisses. “Walking around…in those shorts…no bra.” The words give you a fluttering feeling. You had sensed the attraction wasn’t one-sided, but hearing him say it out loud brought feelings of relief and excitement.

“Says you,” you say, hands drifting down his chest. “I’ve been fighting for my life since I moved in.”

That earns a chuckle from him. He moves to lift your tank top off and licks away any remnants of popsicle juice that might still be left on your chest. He moves to suck on one of your nipples, holding the other in his hand. He sucks a little harder, and the slight sting has your eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. He gives your other breast the same treatment, and you grind down in his lap to relieve the tension between your legs.

“More?” he asks. 

You nod your head. “Yes—fuck, please, God yes.” 

He shuffles under you to slide down his shorts and boxers, revealing his thick cock to you. You almost choke on your own spit because, fuck, he’s girthy.

You slide off his lap to discard your shorts and underwear. You climb back in his lap, spit in your palm, and bring it to his length. You stroke him gently, watching him intently as his head falls back against the couch.

“Shit—that feels so good,” he moans. You lean forward to kiss his neck, gently sucking on the sensitive spot there. He moans louder, egging you in, and you move your hand faster. 

“You’re so big, Bin.” You nibble at his earlobe and whisper low. “If I’d have known, I would’ve pounced on you a lot sooner.”

“Don’t say that to me right now .” He’s smiling, but there’s a serious undertone in his voice. “Or I’m gonna come.”

And you’d love nothing more. But before you get the chance to increase your pace, he grabs your wrist tight and yanks it away. You don’t even get the chance to protest before he’s dragging his fingers through your folds.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out as he slips two fingers inside of you. You fall onto his chest, squeezing his shoulders tight. Your head starts to spin as he increases his pace, and you can hear how wet you are. 

“You sound so pretty,” he whispers in your ear. “So warm and wet.” He’s still fucking into you at a relentless pace, and the heat in your body is reaching to its peak.

“Bin, fuck, I’m gonna—,” you cry, gripping him for dear life. Just then, he slows his pace down, leaving you whining at your denied orgasm.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he says. “I want to feel you come around me, if you’ll let me.” You lean back to look at him, his eyes begging you for more. You nod your head quickly and bring him in for a kiss. He kisses you back gently, slowly easing his fingers out. You whine at the loss, but he’s soon moving you into a better position.

You prop yourself up on your knees, keeping your balance on his shoulders, as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Ready?” he asks, gripping your waist. You reply with a quick “mhm” and take a deep breath.

You lower yourself down slowly as he guides you onto his cock, moaning in unison as the head enters you. The stretch stings a bit, but it feels so good.

“You’re taking me so well,” he says, letting out a deep breath and flashing you a smile. Inch by inch, you take him, feeling him nice and deep inside you. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he helps you rock back and forth.

“S-so big—,” you whine, your forehead falling against his. Your foreheads are still damp from the heat, skin still sticky from a mixture of sweat, popsicle, and spit. “Fuck, Bin—faster.”

Your legs are already shaking at his sides, and he takes over. His hands squeeze your hips hard as he thrusts up into you, fast and rough.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby,” he grunts. The sounds of him smacking against you fill the room. Your cunt is soaked, and you can feel the heat in your belly bubbling back up again.

“Close, close,” you warn him, and your head falls to his shoulder. 

He wraps one arm around you tightly and moves his hand to your clit. His fingers make quick but gentle circles around your nub, and you’re seeing stars.

“Oh—fuck! Changbin!” you cry out as the heat boils over, sending shockwaves through your body. Your entire body spasms around him, and you feel yourself leaking around him.

He fucks you through the aftershocks, careful to be gentle and not overstimulate you. But you want him to feel good, too. You need him to.

You brace yourself to take control and ride him in earnest. You’re slamming into his cock, sensitivity be damned. He’s moaning your name through it, holding onto you. You feel him twitch inside of you, and you know that he’s close.

“Come for me, Bin,” you moan in his ear. “Fill me up.”

He breaks seconds later, filling you up with his hot white liquid. You slow your pace until he finishes, and collapse against his chest. You’re both breathing heavily, sweaty bodies pressed together.

“You’re incredible,” he breathes out, rubbing your back. 

You sit up straight to kiss him again, cupping his face in your hands. “That was…so good…God, you’re so hot.” He smiles at your compliment, kissing you back.

“Let’s get cleaned up.”

He helps you off of him, and you try to keep everything from leaking out of you. He leads you into his bathroom and warms up the water. He cleans you up gently, even helping you wash your hair.

You both dry off and grab some clean pjs from your room before meeting back in the living room.

He plops down on the couch next to you, and his arm reaches around you to pull you close. It’s still hot as fuck in your apartment, but you wouldn’t dare move away. You can’t help but giggle at the situation that’s unfolded.

“What?” he asks, laughing with you even though he’s not sure why.

“Jisung said I needed to get laid,” you chuckle. “He’s going to have a field day when he finds out.”

“He’s one to talk,” Changbin laughs. “He’s been crushing on Minho for years and hasn’t done a thing about it.”

“I know, right? God, he’s so blind that poor boy’s in love with him.”

You spend a good amount of time just cuddling and talking on the couch. It feels really, really nice. You’re not exactly sure what any of it means, but you know you want it to keep going.

“Bin,” you whisper after the conversation comes to a lull.

“Hmm?” he hums.

“This is…nice. I know this living situation is only temporary—”

“Temporary?” he asks, looking at you with a confused expression. “I never said it was temporary.”

“Oh.” You look back at him with the same confusion written on your face. “I just thought you might want your space back.”

He adjusts himself so he’s looking directly at you, and holds both of your hands in his. “You moved into my space, my home, and into my heart. I never want you to leave.”

The confession makes your face grow hot again. You’re giddy and glad that this wasn’t a one-time thing. “Okay,” you manage to squeak out. “I won’t leave.” 

He leans forward to kiss you, and a warm, fuzzy feeling washes over you. Home. This feels like home.

“What now?” you ask, leaning back against the couch.

“Hmmm…” He thinks for a moment. “We could break in your new bed frame.” “Absolutely.”

You swear you just wanted to learn how to play the guitar. A colorful flyer on your regular coffee shop’s bulletin board that read “Guitar Lessons” caught your eye, so you wrote down the number and called it. It was your New Year’s resolution to learn something new, so you were trying.

But it’s hard to focus on memorizing chords and strumming correctly when your guitar teacher looks like that.

Jisung is fucking hot. His wispy black hair falls perfectly over his silver rimmed glasses, his button-up shirt tight enough to show every curve of his biceps and chest. And you couldn’t stop staring. You almost choked when you entered his dimly lit studio, your heart racing as he held out his hand to introduce himself. His voice was deep in a way that made your clit throb.

Every movement of his made you jump in your seat on the leather couch, trying to keep your composure. When he takes the spot next to you to help place your fingers in the right positions, your face grows warm, and your hands become shaky. 

You hope he didn’t notice…or maybe you hope he did.  You’re hardly paying attention at this point, your brain filling with filthy thoughts of him bending you over the couch and punishing you for not paying attention. You’re second-guessing your outfit choice, sweats and a light sweater, deciding that you’d come more prepared next time. Whatever that means.

Jisung stands up as the session ends and shakes your hand again. “You did well. I’ll see you next week, right?” 

Your heart skips at his question, and you swear you catch him giving you a once-over as you reply. “Y-yes, next week, I’ll be here!” You hurry out of the studio home.

When your head hits the pillow that night, all you can think about is the dirty things you’d let him do to you on that couch.

The next week rolls by, and you can’t contain your excitement to see Jisung in the studio again. You’re prepared this time, wearing a mini-skirt and a low-cut shirt that is definitely too tight, hoping he’ll look at you differently today.

You walk into the studio and see him sitting on a stool, strumming along to a song you’re sure you’ve heard before. He looks up at you and fumbles his next note, an off-pitch noise emitting from the guitar. His jaw drops, and you smile innocently and wave at him, batting your eyelashes. Jisung has to stop himself from drooling into his lap.

He’s sitting next to you on the couch now, and you can tell he’s nervous. The temperature of the room feels ten degrees hotter, Jisung has to loosen his tie and roll his sleeves up. You just look so damn good in a skirt, exposed thigh brushing against his as he’s desperately trying to hide his boner.

You feign innocence the entire lesson, asking “Is this right?” in your cutest high-pitched voice when he shows you a new chord or strumming pattern. Or making comments like “Wow, you’re a really good teacher,” which makes him choke on his water. You’re not remembering shit from this lesson.

He has a similar effect on you, you’re just better at hiding it this time around. He doesn’t seem to notice the way you shudder when he gets close, or when your thighs clench together as he’s explaining something to you in detail.

You stand up to leave and feel a hand on your wrist. Your head whips around, and you see Jisung standing in front of you, breathing heavily, biting his bottom lip. 

“Did you wear that on purpose?” he asks, voice low, his eyes scanning over your breasts and then down to your thighs. He takes a step closer, staring at your lips. Your breath catches, and you can feel your heartbeat flutter through your stomach.

“W-what do you mean?” you ask, caught off guard by the attention, though it wasn’t unwelcome.

“That…fucking skirt,” he spits out as he looks you up and down, inching closer. “You did it on purpose.” Your heart is pounding as he starts to close the gap slowly, looking at your face for any sign of protest. His hand moves from your wrist to your waist, his eyes locked on your mouth. All you can think about is wanting him, needing him, to devour you.

He pauses just before your lips brush, moving his free hand to cup your jaw. Your face is warm, and you’re holding your breath in anticipation as you move your hands to his chest, balling the fabric of his shirt in your hands. Fuck, is this really happening right now?

“Can I—,” he starts, and you don’t even let him finish. You pull him closer until you collide, and you can finally taste him on your lips. He moves with fervor, passionate and needy, opening his mouth and licking into yours. The grip on your waist tightens, and you can feel yourself leaking into your panties. He’s so fucking hot you can’t think straight, you just know you need him now.

You unball your fists from his shirt and back him into the couch, your mouth still fused to his. He falls back as he hits the cushions, landing on the couch. You get a really, really nice view of his boner straining against his pants as he spreads his legs, gesturing you to sit on his lap. 

Your legs bracket him without hesitation, before you really even realize what you’re doing. He kisses you again, sloppy and wet, both of you so into it you’re grinding against each other, and you feel his cock rubbing against your clothed core. You dip down to his neck, grabbing onto his tie and licking and sucking on the sensitive spot.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his hands gripping your waist as he moves against you. “You’re really good at that.”

Any nerves you had melted away at his praise. You get more confident, more needy with every second. You’re still kissing and sucking at his neck, reaching down to unbutton his shirt and undo his tie. He helps you strip him of his clothes, and you lean back as he peels his undershirt off. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Jisung is ripped and tatted. Your mouth hangs open as you run your fingers up his abs, over the tattoo scrawled on his side. You damn near start drooling. He reaches out to help you out of your tight top, and his mouth immediately latches onto your breasts. 

“Fuck, you’re really good at that,” you laugh, your hands grabbing onto his hair. His tongue flicks around your nipple, and you can feel yourself getting needier for him. He pinches the other and rolls them between his fingers, and your moans echo throughout the room.

Your body is buzzing, your head clouded with lust, and the only thing you can think about is getting this man out of his pants. Your hands push him gently back, and you kneel on the floor in front of him, licking and kissing his abs as you undo his belt buckle.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he breathes out, watching you work. You slide his pants down to his knees, and palm over his cock through his boxers. 

“You’re so big and hard for me, Jisungie,” you say as you tease him. “Let me help you.”

He shudders slightly, and you feel a wet spot around the tip. You apply a bit more pressure, just to hear him moan. The way he falls apart at your touch is fucking perfection.

You slide his boxers down and gently lick up his shaft, looking up, watching him stare at you with his big brown eyes. His lips are red and puffy, parted slightly, and he’s moaning at the way you work him. Fuck the guitar, this is music to your ears.

He moves your hair out of your face as you take the head of his cock into your mouth, sucking slowly down until he hits the back of your throat.

“Holy shit,” he croaks, his hips bucking into you.

You bob your head up and down and just watch him, leaning back against the couch, eyelids heavy, completely filled with bliss. You take your hand and cup his balls, gently massaging them. He bites his lip to keep from whining too loudly. The noises he’s making are going straight to your clit, and your belly is already aching with need.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he warns you, and you just move faster and suck him harder. His muscles tighten, and you can feel his dick twitching against your tongue. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve the buzzing sensation between your legs. He’s squirming, and it’s all for you. You pull your mouth off with a pop and stick out your tongue, stroking him fast with both hands.

“Come on my tongue, baby,” you encourage him. “Wanna taste it.” The sight of you on your knees, begging for his load, makes him snap.

“Shit, I’m coming,” he croaks, his hands fisted in your hair, grab tighter against your scalp as his body shakes. Hot, white ropes splatter against your tongue, across your lips, and down your cheek. You smile up at him as you lick his cum off your face. He uses his thumb to wipe the extra liquid off your cheek. You take it in your mouth and suck it clean.

“You…are the hottest woman I’ve ever seen,” he says, breathing heavily, fixing your hair that he messed up. The compliment makes your heart flutter. He leans forward to bring you into a kiss, hands grazing your nipples and stroking your sides. He helps you back up to your feet, gesturing for you to sit next to him. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he mutters against your lips as he guides you on your back and kicks off his clothes. 

You nod your head. “Please, Jisung,” you say softly, almost moaning. You’re throbbing now, your entire body pulsing with want. 

He takes off his glasses, tossing them on the floor, and hovers above you. He’s so fucking hot like this, you almost forget where you are. He dives back to your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours. You’re dripping for him, pulling him close against your body.

“Promise you’ll tell me if it’s too much for you, yeah?” he pulls back to ask. You nod your head. “Words, baby. Use your words.”

“Yes, I promise,” you spill out, desperate for him to keep kissing you. 

“Good girl.”

He dips his head to your neck, sucking marks into your skin as he kneads your breast. You moan into his ear, exciting him even more. His hands work their way down your body, slipping under your skirt. He glides his fingers over your clothed core and laughs quietly.

“You’re fucking soaked,” he whispers in your ear. “All for me, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head. You can’t even form words. 

“Bet you were wet during our lesson, weren’t you?” he continues, pressing harder against your heat, making you whine.

“Yes, fuck, yes I-I was,” you confess, arching into him, desperate to feel more.

“Bad girl,” he tuts. “What do you have to say for yourself?” He’s pressing against your clit as he taunts you, sending a jolt up your spine. 

“I-I’m s-sorry,” you stutter. “I’ll be good, I promise.” His words send a hum of arousal through you. Just a few minutes ago, he was squirming and whining under you, and now he holds the power. It gives you whiplash, but it’s exhilarating.

“Then you’re going to come on my fingers, okay?” he demands, his voice still soft yet teasing. “Show me how sorry you are.”

You nod your head, and he dips into your panties, slicking his fingers through your folds. His name escapes your lips as you clutch onto his biceps, trying to keep yourself grounded. Two of his calloused fingers enter your cunt, gently fucking you, and you’re reeling. He’s breathing heavy in your ear, increasing his pace, curling his fingers perfectly inside you.

“You like it when I touch you like this, baby?” His dirty talk sends shivers down your body. You want nothing more than for him to talk to you like this forever. 

“Jisungie, that f-feels so good,” you whine, and the muscles in your body tighten up, the warm feeling growing inside you.

“That’s it,” he rasps. “Just focus on me.” He plunges a third finger in you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. You cling to him tighter, nails biting his skin, and it eggs him on even more. Your face contorts from the sheer pleasure, hips chasing him eagerly. 

He leans over to meet your lips together again, kissing you deeply, swallowing your gasps and moans. You’re so fucking close, clenching tightly around his digits. He can tell by the way you’re shaking, and he brings his thumb up to circle around your clit. Your brain starts to go fuzzy, your back arches, and you squeeze your eyes shut to focus on the feeling in your belly.

“I’m—,” you mumble, trying to form a sentence. Everything comes out jumbled, but you’re too dizzy to care. 

“You’re squeezing so tight,” he groans. “You’re almost there, you’re doing so good for me.” His face is hovering over yours, his eyes boring holes into you. You can hear how wet you are for him as he slams his hand into you, bringing you to the top. The combination of his coaxing and his deep gaze makes the sparks in your body explode, giving you the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

“That’s it, baby, give it to me.” You’re crying out his name, limbs quivering as he fucks you gently through your peak. He rides it out with you, whispering praises in your ear and pressing soft kisses on your temple. “Fuck, good girl.”

You take a second to catch your breath, pulling him back in for a kiss. “You’re incredible, Jisung,” you say, as the fog in your head starts to clear. His fingers slide out, and you whimper from the emptiness, and he licks them clean, lust still in his eyes. He’s a fucking maniac.

“You taste good,” he says, rather nonchalantly, given the events that have just occurred. 

He kisses you back, softer but still hungry for more. He takes your hand and slides it down his body, stopping at his dick. How is he still fucking hard? You’re still sensitive, but you can’t deny that you still want him badly. And he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you, which isn’t helping.

You slide your panties down and toss them on the floor, the wet fabric dragging down your legs. You spread your legs further apart and pull his waist in, inviting him inside.

“Still needy, hmm?” he says as he holds his cock at your entrance, sliding it through your folds. “Gonna pay attention this time?” Fucking tease.

“Yes, fuck, I swear,” you say, holding onto his back and bracing yourself for him. He kisses your forehead once and eases into you slowly. Your cunt is already so swollen, but he feels so good inside you. He’s stuffing you full, and still you need more.

He starts to move, and you wrap your legs around him, holding him close. His cock is dragging along the length of his walls and sending another wave of pleasure through you. 

“Harder, Jisung,” you beg him. You need him to carve his name inside you with his dick. “Please.”

He obliges. “Yeah, baby? You need my cock that bad?” His pace quickens, and the sounds of skin slapping against each other echo against the walls. He’s hitting your spot with every thrust, and you’re damn near screaming for him. 

“Feel how deep I am inside you? You like it rough, hmm?”

“Y-yes, fuck!” He’s pounding into you, fingers leaving bruises on your waist. You’re both sweating messes, and you’re too cock drunk to respond to him with anything but moans of satisfaction. 

“Can you feel it twitch? I’m so close, baby, you’re being so good for me.” His hips are stuttering now, he’s chasing his high, desperate to unload inside you. His fingers fly down to your clit, rubbing against it in time with his hips. He brings you closer to the edge with every movement, every word.

“I know how bad you want me to fill you up, baby. I can feel you fucking milking me.” He just keeps talking you through it. “You take it so well, you’re gonna come for me now, yeah?”

And you do. You feel the same waves of pleasure wash over you, making you convulse under him. Your cunt throbs for him, and your juices squirt all over his cock. Your orgasm makes him spill over, his arms give out, and he leans his forehead on yours. 

“Fuckfuckfuck—,” he spits out, thrusting in one final time as he paints your walls with his cum. He rides through his high until he finally collapses against you. 

It takes a second for either of you to move or speak, absolutely exhausted.

“Thank god this room is soundproof,” he finally says, laughing.

“I just…I don’t even have words,” you breathe out. “Fuck that was really good.”

“You are an absolute dream. I mean it. That was…surely the best sex of my life.” His words fill you with a warm, fuzzy feeling, and you can only hope he truly means it.

He finally pulls out, finding some tissues to clean the two of you up. He’s gentle around your sensitive area, wiping you down and helping you back into your clothes.

He gets himself dressed and helps you stand up. You find your panties on the floor and tuck them into his shirt pocket. “You can keep those,” you smile at him as you pat over the pocket you tucked them into.

You grab the rest of your things and turn to leave when you feel him grab your wrist. 

“Wait—,” he says as you spin around. “That was…really nice. But I wanted to see if you’d like to go to dinner sometime.”

“Dinner? Oh! Yes, dinner sounds really great, Jisung,” you reply, trying not to sound too excited.

“Great, okay! I’ll uh…I’ll still see you next week?” 

“That depends,” you tease, eyebrow arching. “Are you actually going to teach me to play the guitar?”

“Are you actually going to pay attention?” he laughs.

“Touché.”

He brings you in for a hug and a final peck on the lips. “See you soon.”

You leave the studio with a smile on your face and butterflies in your tummy, excited for the new prospect in your love life.

You can learn how to play the guitar another time.

a/n: count how many times i say fuck lmao. this one got away from me, i thought making jisung a talker would be fun but man he doesn’t stfu (just how i like em) 😭but i hope you enjoyed reading all the dirty things in my head ♡

permanent taglist: @11racha @jisuperboard @kloversung @sourtae @binniebb @b4echo @hanjinology

Kim Seungmin is the bane of your existence. Since high school, this guy has always beaten you at everything he could in terms of academic success. You were the Salutatorian? He was the Valedictorian. You were the Senior Class VP? He was the President. You got into Princeton? He got into Harvard. And yet, here you both are, on full-ride scholarships at the same college on an even playing field.

It wouldn’t have bothered you that he was smarter if he weren’t such an ass about it. Always making sly comments in passing, “Better luck next time” or “You’ll get there one day”. Sometimes you think he does it just to spite you. 

The library comes into focus, and you trudge up the front steps, boots scraping against the pavement. The doors fling open and you’re met with the dry heat exuding from the building. You immediately shed your scarf and hat, adjusting to the warmth.

The third floor of the library is your sacred place. Your peace, your sanctuary, the place you come to work, think, breathe. It’s bright in there, but cozy. The view of the campus from there is beautiful, and the atrium in the center is your favorite feature. It’s warm in summer and cooler in winter, offering a nice contrast to the air in the building. 

You’re surrounded by the smell of old books and stale coffee. The librarian nods to you as you enter, and you flash her a smile as you walk your way to the corner of the room. Your favorite spot gives you a direct view of the sunsets, and you’ll make it there just in time.

Until you see him. He’s there, his nose in a book, hair perfectly parted with loose strands framing his face. Kim Seungmin. In your spot. Sure, the library didn’t have assigned seating, but you sit there after classes almost every day since you started college. He knows it, too.

“You’re in my spot,” you claim.

“I don’t see your name on it,” he quips back, not bothering to look up.

“I sit here every day. You know that. Why are you being an ass?” You argue. 

He just smirks at you. “Maybe it’s my spot now.”

He’s such a fucking child. Your skin grows hot and your breathing starts to waver. He knows exactly how to get under your skin, and he’ll do it every chance he gets. Immature, pompous, arrogant, and selfish, all words you use to describe Kim Seungmin. 

What’s worse is that he’s handsome. He’s tall, has a lean yet athletic build, his messy hair always looks perfect, and he smells like amber and citrus. Asshole.

“Pull up a chair, I don’t bite,” he says after several moments of silence. You huff at him in response. “No thanks, I’ll find somewhere else to sit. It was getting old anyway.” You turn on your heels and walk away.

“Don’t be late for practice,” you hear him say as you walk away. “I never am!” You reply over your shoulder, feigning cheerfulness.

Being on the varsity debate team is the perfect outlet for your competitive spirit. Everyone there is equally smart and eloquent, and they make for great competition. You thrive during debates. It keeps your brain sharp and your tongue sharper. You actually feel like you’re amongst the best there, you feel like you belong. And it’s friendly, for the most part. Except for Seungmin.

Footsteps fill the practice room as your team files in. You take the front row, right in the middle, and chat with your friend.

“You know transcripts come out soon, right?” she mentions to you, leaning close. It’s no secret that every poli sci major is obsessed with their GPA. They’re even more obsessed with class placement. The start of every semester begins with anticipation to see what number that yellow slip of paper would read at the bottom.

You’re vying for the #1 spot, obviously.

You watch as Seungmin takes the seat directly behind you. Daggers stab the back of your head from how hard he’s staring at you. Your body tenses. You’re always so tense when he’s around. Truthfully, he’s your only solid competition. The only one that worries you, anyway.

Professor Park takes the podium and clears his voice, addressing the team. “As you all may know, our previous Varsity Captain, Mira, graduated last semester. We wish her well, but we’re in need of a new captain.” You sit up straighter, listening intently. “To anyone interested, we’ll hold a formal debate and invite a panel of faculty to judge. See me at the end of class for details.”

Perfect. Another title for your resume, and another chance to beat Kim Seungmin. You can already feel him breathing down your neck as the professor rambles on. 

“Don’t even try it,” he whispers in your ear from behind you. “You know you won’t win.” You ignore him. He tries too hard to get to you. You’ll never tell him it works. He knows. You know he knows. 

“Our next debate partners,” your professor starts, looking at his papers. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please try not to kill each other.” You know exactly who he’s talking to before he even says your names.

You versus Seungmin.

Your body grows warm as all eyes are on you. The two of you have done this dance for months. He’s intimidating, charismatic, and aggressive. You’re clear, concise, and account for every one of his rebuttals. Polar opposites. It’s equally aggravating as it is thrilling. You tear each other apart on the stand, and the silence that fills the room as you stand proves that.

You take the podiums. You know exactly how he’s going to play this. Quick and dirty. He stares you down on stage, adjusting his stupid navy blue blazer. The smirk that creeps across his face already causes your cheeks to heat. You may know him well, but he knows you better. 

The arguments start, and it’s business as usual. Practice debates are never as serious, but the two of you act like you’re at nationals every time. He just can’t let you win.

He stands like he owns the place. He speaks quickly, throwing jabs at the opposing view. Adding assumptions instead of facts. Rattles off two or three articles you’ve both read in preparation. All with a smug ass smile on his face.

Your rebuttal begins, and you deliver your speech. It’s clear and hard to argue with. He’s still going to try. 

“You’re oversimplifying,” he interrupts.

“I’m clarifying,” you jab back. You can’t tell if he does it to hurt you or help you. It pisses you off all the same.

The professor rolls his eyes the whole time. Jumping in when he needs to, but he keeps to himself. He knows better than to get in the middle by now. The team sits quietly in their seats, sometimes laughing when one of you pokes fun at the other. 

“You always do that thing where you make my arguments sound lazy,” he says as you wrap up. 

“Because you rush it,” you reply.

“You hate efficiency.”

“I hate when people use efficiency as an excuse for lack of preparation.”

You walk away with your head high. There’s no winner, per se. The team helps critique your arguments to improve them for later. Then you spend a bit of time prepping for team arguments. After practice, you make your way to the professor to grab the details for the Captain’s position debate. Seungmin follows.

“I figured as much,” Mr. Park says with a sigh. “Play nice.” He hands you both the assignment.

Seungmin’s on top of you again as you’re walking out of the building. “You really think you won, don’t you?” he says, laughing to himself.

“I did. Just because you’re loud doesn’t mean you’re right,” you dig.

“You think you’re better because you’re quieter?”

“I’m better because I don’t need to convince everybody I’m right. I just am.” 

He grins. He loves it. You hate that you love it too.

“He always has to be right, he’ll even realize he’s wrong mid-sentence and still argue with me!” You’re venting to your roommate, Yuna. She’s used to this by now, coming home after your debate practice and listening to you complain about Seungmin.

“Why do you let him bother you so much?” she asks.

“He’s been up my ass since the ninth grade. Have you met him? He’s insufferable,” you groan.

“Is this some weird type of foreplay for the two of you?” she asks. “Excuse me?” you respond, baffled.

She lifts her hands in defense. “I’m just saying, maybe it’s just something you gotta get out of your system.”

“You’re suggesting I fuck him? Him?”

“Hate sex is hot.” She’s not wrong. Hate sex is hot. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t thought about it before. Even if it was just to get him to shut up.

“That’s abhorrent,” you tell her. But when the lights are off and you’re all alone, you picture him on top of you. Touching you. Whispering filth into your ear. Fucking the hatred out of you. You’d never admit it out loud.

“What happens after you graduate and you don’t have anyone to take your sexual frustrations out on?” she asks with a laugh.

“I’m not sexually frustrated,” you cross your arms. 

“Bullshit.” Again, not wrong.

“After we graduate, I hope I never see him again,” you respond. You don’t even believe it yourself. Your roommate laughs.

“Take a break from the books, come with me to the SKZ party tonight,” she offers. “He’ll be there. It’ll be fuuuunnnn.” You open your mouth to decline, but she puts on her best puppy eyes, “Fine,” you tell her. “But if he bothers me, I’m leaving.”

The SKZ house is pretty much what you’d expect a frat to look like. It sits on a corner in Greek Row, always blasting music so loud you can feel it beneath your feet as you approach. There’s college students pouring in and out of it, packed like sardines in there. Definitely a fire hazard.

“Loosen up,” Yuna says as she leads you inside. You’re trying to put on a good face for her, make it seem like you’re having a good time. Parties weren’t foreign to you, but they weren’t really your scene. You’re also in the most uncomfortable clothes you’ve ever been in. Why do girls always go to parties in mini skirts and no jackets in the middle of winter?

The floor is vibrating when you walk in, and the smell of beer and sweat smacks you right in the nostrils. You’re already feeling queasy even before Yuna hands you a beer and drags you to dance. People are bumping your shoulders and you realize you’ll need a few beers in you before this becomes even semi-enjoyable. 

Yuna drags down to the basement to meet a couple of her friends around beer #2. You’re feeling a decent buzz, and you feel yourself let loose a little bit. You haven’t seen Seungmin around, which is a relief, even though you really want to see the look on his face when he realizes you’ve entered his territory.

One of the SKZ brothers comes over to the two of you while you’re chatting against the wall. You learn his name is Jeongin, and the two of you start chatting. He’s beautiful, has the sweetest smile, and he’s so charming. 

“You’re really pretty…why haven’t I seen you around before?” he asks you. You can’t lie to yourself, the attention is nice. He smells fantastic, he’s fucking ripped, and by beer #4, Kim Seungmin is the farthest thing from your mind.

You can feel him before you see him. You look away for a moment, and his eyes are locked on you from across the room. It’s like he can hear your thoughts slipping, and knows just when to appear. This could be fun. You lean into Jeongin, pretending to slip, and his arms catch you. He’s so much nicer, too. You’re laughing in his arms by the time Seungmin’s standing next to you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he says, looming over your shoulder. 

“I’m having fun, Seungmin. You should try it,” you shoot back. 

Just then, he gives Jeongin the sharpest glare, accompanied by a “Beat it, Pledge,” and Jeongin awkwardly waves by and leaves you two be.

“Seungmin, what the fuck? What if I was trying to get laid?” 

He laughs. “You’re drunk. You need to go home.” He’s grabbing you by the arm and taking you out of the house.

“I’m fine. I don’t need your help,” you huff at him, wiggling out of his grasp. He steps closer to you. Your heart flutters a bit, your head dizzy from the alcohol and the way your body reacts to him. You’re actually, really dizzy. You can hardly turn completely away from him before you’re hurling on the grass.

“Jesus, okay, hold on,” He’s wrapping his arm around you and you almost flinch at the contact. He guides you to sit down on the curb, and you realize just how much you had to drink. 

“Wait here,” he says. So bossy. He steps inside and a few moments later comes out with a jacket and a bottle of water. He wraps the jacket around your shoulders and hands you the bottle.

“Why are you being nice to me?” You say, sipping the water. 

“Can’t have my best opponent slacking on me,” he chuckles. “The wins are more satisfying when someone’s at least trying to beat me.” You shove his shoulder. He winces and just smiles at you.

“Oh my god—there you are!” Yuna shouts behind you. “I’ve been looking everywhere—Oh, hello…” She pauses when she sees Seungmin, and then a smile creeps across her face. “Should we…get you home? Unless you’re busy—“

“No!” You and Seungmin shout simultaneously. 

“I’m fine…let’s go home,” you say, standing up slowly. You look back at him and give him a shy Thanks before Yuna guides you back.

“Did you bring a jacket?” she asks, gesturing to the green coat around you.

“Oh…no…it’s Seungmin’s—“

“Oh my god, just screw him already!” She laughs, and you push her, stumbling a bit. She grabs you by the arm, leading you home.

You wake up the next morning, hungover as shit, replaying last night's events in your head with a slight grin on your face. You remind yourself to thank Yuna later for helping give you a night off.

A yellow glow casts over the table you’re sitting at, and a familiar warmth washes over you. This time of day was your favorite. No one tried to fight you, question you, or argue with you. It may be early in the semester to be spending nights at the library, but you had so many assignments already. And now, a debate to win.

You’re up to your elbows in books, papers, notes. The laptop next to you whirrs quietly. The sun is setting, and you’ve gotten into a good rhythm with your homework. The peace is disturbed by a familiar cologne wafting through your nostrils.

Seungmin walks over, head high, eyes targeted right at you. You scowl as he approaches. “You should really be out with the rest of your friends,” he says. “You sure had fun last night.” And he’s already being annoying.

“I was, until someone ruined it,” you huff at him. He just smirks back at you. “I’m busy. What do you want?”

“You did that all by yourself,” he says. “Show me your argument.” He knows you’ve outlined it already.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I can tell you’re overcomplicating it.” You catch a hint of something in his voice, a nervousness you don’t normally see in him.

You stand up to face him, scanning his face. His ears pull back, and you spot it. “You’re afraid you’re going to lose,” you say, mockingly.

He scoffs. “You give yourself too much credit. I’m helping make sure it’s actually fair.”

A smile creeps across your face. He’s lying. You can always tell. “You know what? Have at it.”

The chair scratches against the floor as he sits down. His brows are furrowed, scanning over your papers. Your arms are folded, leaning back in your seat.

“You don’t need this much framing,” he says.

“It’s too complicated.”

“You don’t need to provoke people just to feel like you’re in control,” you shoot back. 

“I’m not provoking—“

“You always provoke me,” you say, leaning against the table to stare at him.

He lowers the papers, hands hitting the desk.

“You rely on the safe option because you’re too afraid to commit to something risky.”

“I can commit,” you argue. “I just don’t perform. It’s a debate not a play.” His ears are scarlet. His tongue pokes the side of the cheek. He stands.

“You think I, what, just walk in and charm my way through? You don’t think I prepare as hard as you do?” An assumption. He loves those.

“I think you’d rather be impressive than factual.” His jaw tightens.

“Well I think you’d rather be right than be vulnerable.” Ouch. That hits harder than it should. Your cheeks grow warm and your jaw is clenched so tight you think you might break your teeth.

You stand. “That. Right there. Is exactly your problem. Every time you think you’re going to lose, you stoop lower. You get personal. Maybe I’m afraid of being vulnerable, but at least I’m not afraid to admit it.”

Something snaps in him. You see it in his eyes and in the way he’s moving closer to you. “You want vulnerable? Fine.” He’s closing the gap between you and your breath catches in your throat.

“You know why I keep fighting with you? Why I push and push until you snap?” You shake your head. Your heart is threatening to leap out of your ribs, and you swear he’s close enough to feel the heat coming off of your body. One more step and he’ll be able to see your hands shaking. 

“Because when you look at me like that,” He’s too close, breath warm and eyes piercing. You’re terrified of what’s about to come out of his mouth, but also dying on the inside, needing to know. “I don’t know how else to hide how badly I want you.” 

The air escapes your lungs, and your body’s on fire. You look at him. Really look. There’s no anger in his eyes, just raw, unfiltered emotion. You don’t predict what you say next.

“Then don’t.”

That’s all he needs. His hand cups your jaw, and he’s bringing you closer to him, lips colliding.

The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s coated in tension, need, and truth. It burns you from the inside out. He kisses you like he’s trying to prove a point, grips your waist like he needs it to stay grounded. You kiss him back because you’re tired of pretending you don’t want him too.

Your tongues fight for dominance, sliding against each other. Every second of it is heated, his hands are on your waist, then your hips, pulling you closer to him. Your hands fist his shirt, then slide up to his neck, lightly tugging on his hair. He bites your bottom lip as if to say, ‘Stop fighting me.’ Your lips slide down his jaw, down his neck, you suck hard, as if to say ‘Make me.’ You’re trying to one-up each other, and you can’t even talk.

You pull back, breathless and shaking. You can’t look him in the eyes. “This doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper, eyes still shut.

“I know,” he says, lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him. “But now you can’t pretend you don’t feel it too.”

He hesitates before leaving you there, wanting more.

To anyone else, they would see nothing has changed between the two of you. If anything, it looks worse. Your arguments are more frequent, louder. Your teammates avoid being too close. Your professor looks like he’s given up. 

But for you, everything is different. Your cheeks heat when he’s near. Your heart stops when he calls your name. You almost hesitate when you argue. Almost.

The nights you used to spend in the library alone are accompanied by racing thoughts. They slow when he shows up. He doesn’t argue or patronize you, he just sits. His foot rests against yours one day. His fingers lightly brush yours the next. By the end of the week, you’ve used up all your concealer hiding the bruises he’s kissed into your skin.

It’s an addicting, all-consuming love affair. You’re both too stubborn to call it what it is.

Your phone pings, and your stomach drops through the floor. 

Come here. Study. 

You’re out the door in five minutes, your actions fueled by a new kind of fire. 

You’re in Seungmin’s room, sitting on the extra chair in front of his desk. He’s poring over the information for your big debate, and you’re talking through it with him. Arguing through it with him.

“I just don’t think that’s necessary—“ he starts.

“You don’t think anything is necessary!” you finish.

The arguments are more juvenile than ever. Bickering for the sake of it. There’s no real reason behind either of your statements. The tension in your body builds, a different kind of heat warming your skin.  

He pulls your chair closer to him, his thighs touching yours. “I was perfectly fine where I was,” you protest.

“You couldn’t see the screen,” he maintains. You lean closer to him, pretending to get a better view of his laptop. You’re practically breathing in his ear. 

“You’re breathing too loud,” he says, annoyance laced with nervousness. You don’t argue back. You’re tracing his face with your eyes, memorizing the placement of his moles, noticing how smooth his skin is.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” he asks. 

“Do what?” you say, feigning innocence.

He turns to look at you straight, one arm resting on the back of your chair. “Keep looking at me like that.” It sounds like a dare. Your eyes fall to his mouth. You swallow hard, and your lips part involuntarily. Maybe this is some weird kind of foreplay. You hope it is.

“Damn, you,” he exhales, and leans in to kiss you. Your hands grab his face, and you kiss him hard, roughly. He grabs you by the hips and hoists you in his lap, your legs straddling him. You feel his boner right against your heat, and you grind into him, drawing a moan out of him. Your tongues do the fighting for you.

The chair slides back, rolling against the carpet, and he stands up, taking you with him. He leans down to lay you down on the bed, climbing on top of you. His fingers graze your stomach as he pulls off your top. 

“You tell me to stop, and I stop,” he whispers in your ear, and you nod your head frantically in reply.

He grabs your breasts, squeezing them over your bra. You let out a moan, and he drags his tongue along your jaw and down your neck. You shudder in delight, wrapping your legs around his back and pulling him closer. He grinds into you, his length straining against his sweats. 

Lust clouds your thoughts, and you sneak your hands under his sweatshirt, palms caressing his bare back. He reaches up to pull it off, along with his t-shirt, and dives back into your mouth. Your fingers trace his abs, exploring his body for the first time. You’re touching him so sensually, his head is spinning.

The sight of him above you half-naked, hair mussed, necklace dangling in front of your face, has you going wild. You reach down and untie his sweats, tucking your fingers in the waistband. You don’t say anything, he knows what you want. Instead, he unzips your pants and yanks them down, exposing your underwear. The wet spot on the front is visible, the cool air sending chills up your spine. You kick off your pants and spread your legs wider, letting him see all of you.

“Pretty, pretty, girl,” he purrs. “Already so wet for me.” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. 

“That’s kinda what happens,” you sigh. You want to humble him, take him down a peg, but playfully. “If you’re doing it right.” 

He takes that as a challenge, pulling you to the edge of the bed and kneeling on the floor. “Yeah?” He slides your underwear off. “You tell me if this is right.”

He wipes the smirk right off your face. His hands grip your thighs, hard, bringing his tongue flat against you. He moves fast, his tongue licking long strips against your cunt. You moan at the sensation, his tongue lapping at your clit. The heat in your belly trickles in. 

Two fingers enter you, curling exactly right, and you grip his hair to ground yourself. Your legs begin to twitch, and his mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit. You feel the heat bubbling, your moans getting louder.

“Is this right?” He asks, smugly, hand still fucking into you. “God shut up,” you say, half moaning.

He brings you right to the edge before he pulls out. You lift your head up to look at him, jaw dropped like you can’t believe he just did that. “I was so close!” You whine at him. 

“You’ll come when you’re nice,” he states. Even caught off guard, your responses are quick. 

“And if I’m not?” You sass at him, tilting your head. He lets out a laugh and climbs up your body until he’s right against your ear. His voice is low, but his words are sharp. “Then I’ll edge you until you’re begging for it.” 

You don’t know what’s hotter, being edged or being threatened into submission.

His mouth is on your neck again, and you’re desperately grabbing at his sweats. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, and you can’t help but buck into him, your cunt leaking, seeking friction.

“So fucking needy,” he chuckles into your skin. “And you say I rush things.”

“You do,” you say, making your choice. He stares down at you, jaw clenching. One hand moves to your throat, giving it a tight squeeze on the sides, making your head spin with pleasure. He lowers his face to yours, hovering so close you can feel the air coming out of his nose. 

“What was that?” he says. “I don’t think I heard you.” He’s giving you a chance to change your mind. You don’t take it.

“Shut up and fuck me already,” you spit out, much less confident, but equally eager.

His tongue pokes out of his cheek, and a devilish smile creeps across his face. “Okay,” he says. “Have it your way.” He sounds cheery, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it.

Your eyes follow him as he stands up to discard his pants and boxers. You stare at his length as he pumps into his fist and positions himself in front of you. Heartbeat pounding, still soaking wet, your breath hitches as he presses your knees against your chest. He presses into you, agonizingly slow, grinning as he watches your face contort.  He increases his pace, driving into you, hands tight around your thighs. The heat in your core comes back, faster this time. 

“So quiet all of a sudden,” he says with a smug grin. “Had the attitude all fucked out of you already?” He may love arguing with you, but he loves this even more. Seeing you squirm and shake underneath him drives him crazy.

“Mmm…not yet,” you reply with a breathy moan. “Try harder.” He does. His hips start pounding into you, his hard body smacking your thighs as he bottoms out with every thrust.

Your heat is bubbling, threatening to boil over. He’s making circles around your clit with his thumb, and you’re clenching him so hard, your body hot and tight. Right as you reach your peak, he slips out of you without a warning.

“Min—what the fuck!” you shout, voice cracking as your body goes limp at the loss of contact. You look up, and you remember who you’re dealing with, meeting his darkened eyes.

He grabs your hips and flips your body like it’s nothing, the mattress dipping as he kneels behind you. You feel your back arch as he grabs you by the throat to look at your face. His hands give your neck a light squeeze, and your head buzzes with excitement.

“You know what I think?” he asks, staring down at you. “I think you love it when I rile you up.” He pushes himself in again, and your body jolts and shudders. “I bet your panties are soaked after every argument.” You feel every inch, deeper, more electric than before. The tightness around his shaft proves his theory. You’re a whimpering mess around him and he loves it.

“Open up,” he commands, lightly squeezing your cheeks. Your lips don’t part, and he pulls himself almost all the way out before he drives into you again, hard. You open your mouth, letting out a moan and he spits a long string of saliva into it. You swallow on instinct.

“Good girl,” he purrs in your ear. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel you milking me. Don’t you wanna come, sweetheart?” He’s taunting you while sending you closer and closer to your peak.

“Min…please…I need it,” you moan between his thrusts. Your thighs are shaking, your brain is fuzzy, in a completely and utterly blissed out state.

“I can’t hear you baby,” he teases. “You’re going to have to be louder than that.” He reaches around to pinch your nipple, sending a shock through your body.

“Please, fuck, Minnie, I need it,” you beg. “I wanna come, I wanna come so bad!” You’re pleading with him, desperate, and he flips you onto your back once again. All you can hear is his heavy breathing and the sound of skin slapping together as he continues to pound into you.

He can’t keep up the act anymore. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, baby. I love that nickname, say it again for me,” he whines, just as desperate as you are. 

“Minnie, harder, please,” you cry. Every thrust sends shockwaves into your body, the heat inside of your belly about to boil over.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Let me hear how much you love my cock.” His words, coupled with his thumb making circles on your clit, send you over the edge. Your back arches further into him, your screams ripping from your throat, your body vibrating under his. He fucks you through your orgasm and his praise turns into helpless pants as he’s coming inside you, hot liquid painting your insides. He kisses you slowly, swallowing every last moan as you both come down from your highs.

The haze of lust starts to dissipate and the full realization of what you had done, and who you’d done it with, hits. Seungmin sees the gears turning behind your eyes, and he kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t say anything, just caresses your cheek with his hand.

He gets up to find a towel to clean you off, wiping the slick from your thighs and the sweat from your neck. He climbs back into the bed with you after, settling against the headboard, and brings you against his chest. You inhale his scent, and he plays with your hair. It feels like you should be ecstatic. Like you finally got something you’ve been dying for. But it doesn’t.

You’re afraid that if you speak, you’d be forced to confront the questions that have been looming over your head for the past week. The silence weighs heavily in the air. He must be scared, too. 

“Do you…want your jacket back?” you whisper, almost inaudible. It’s the safest question you can think to ask.

“Keep it,” he whispers, kissing your forehead gently. “It suits you better.”

It’s not an answer. The silence comes back and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. You can feel his too, racing just as hard through his soft skin.

You try to break the silence, hoping to find an answer. “What happens—“

“Shhh,” he hushes you. “Let’s not think about it right now.” So you don’t. You lay in his arms, in an anxious quiet, until the morning breaks and you’re forced back to reality.

Debate Day. A day you’d normally be ecstatic for, a chance to show your skills and maybe, finally, beat Kim Seungmin. But you’re not. You’re sad, an anxious mess, and completely off your game.

It’s exactly what he wanted. You didn’t think he’d stoop that low, just to win, even after he’s taken everything from you. The idea hadn’t settled in your head until the previous night, when you were preparing the last of your notes for the debate. Son of a bitch.

You’re fuming, stomping around your room getting ready, slamming every door and drawer in the tiny dorm you can find.

“Babe…you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?” Yuna asks, concerned and slightly terrified.

“Kim Seungmin. We….hooked up. And now I’m just a mess. I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t breathe, Yuna.” You’re starting to hyperventilate. You can’t even think about him without wanting to cry. 

“You don’t know that’s what he was trying to do. Try and talk to him?”

“You don’t know him, Yuna. He plays dirty, always has, and always will. I just didn’t think he’d be a cheat too.” There was no convincing you. And you weren’t sure which pain was worse. The fact that you’d lost focus, or the fact that he lied about everything he’d felt. Because you had felt it. And it was eating you alive.

You drag your feet on your way to the practice room, the dread weighing heavy on you. The rain pouring down from above is mocking you as it hits your umbrella. You can’t face him and pretend like nothing happened. A thousand thoughts race through your mind. What if I freeze? What if he wins and he’s the same Seungmin as before? What if I’m never the same?

His silhouette turns the corner ahead of you and your heart sinks. Your eyes meet his, and you both freeze. For a moment, you hope he’ll say something. Something to alleviate this feeling, like you’re on a sinking ship without a lifeboat. But he turns and keeps walking. You feel like someone twisted the knife that was inside your heart.

“Kim Seungmin!” you shout at him. He freezes and turns to face you. You’re stomping towards him, puddles splashing your ankles. You don’t even know what you want to say, what you should say. Your fire is raging with the heat of a thousand suns, your umbrella falls from your hand and your hands find his chest and shove. He staggers backward.

“You did it on purpose,” you accuse him, hands balling into fists.

“Did what?” He asks. 

“Admit it, you knew you couldn’t beat me, so you got into my head.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about everything!” You’re shouting now. “The past few weeks, every kiss in the library, the other night, all of it!” Tears are pricking your eyes.

“Can we talk after? Please? I don’t wanna fight right now—“

“Fight with me!”

“I can’t!” His voice is louder now. “Not here, not right now.” 

“Why? Because you already won?”

“You really think I’d use you like that?”

“You hate me,” your voice is lower now, but still drenched with anger. “You always have.”

“Maybe,” he says, quietly. “Or maybe you’re scared that I never did.”

He walks away, leaving you soaking from the rain, wishing you were anywhere else on Earth.

The podiums look freshly polished, reflecting the spotlights overhead. The seats are filled with the faculty judges, as promised, and the rest of your team. You sneak to the bathroom to dry yourself off and make it back with a few minutes to spare. You’re dressed in a skirt that hits your knees, tights and mary jane’s, and a blazer sporting your school logo. You’re still damp, but you look presentable.

You can do this. It’s just like every other debate with him, you know how he’ll play this. Quick and dirty. It has a different meaning now.

You both take your places at the podium. Seungmin looks good in a suit, hands steady, calm as ever. You can’t help but laugh at him, and at yourself. The team is wincing like they’re preparing for an explosion. 

You start first. Clear, concise, only slightly shaky. It’s just from the nerves, from the judges watching you. The room listens intently, and you don’t look at him while you speak. You know if you do, you’ll break. A soft approval hums from the crowd when you finish.

It’s his turn now, and he starts as steady as he always does. Strong, confident, Seungmin. It’s hard to listen to him, but you push your feelings aside to focus on the cracks in his argument. You wait for the assumption, the supporting facts, the references. 

He skips the line that drills the biggest hole in your argument. Your stomach drops, and you look at him. It was so small, no one else would have noticed. But you did. He holds your eye contact while he finishes. You stare at each other, for only a moment, but you can feel your face getting hot and your hands shake.

You tear into the opening he left exposed. That he gave you. Everyone is watching, you can’t break now. With every sentence you expect an interruption, a snarky comment, a fucking question. But he just sits there, silently with his hands in his pockets. 

By the time closing statements are done you already know. You can’t even look at him. You’re embarrassed, hair sticking to your forehead from the rain and now sweat. Your professor claps and shakes your hand. The room fills with applause. 

“Congratulations,” he says, smiling. Your head is spinning, you want to deny it, run, scream, hide. It’s too late. 

 You find him in the hallway outside when the room clears. “You threw,” you say, still in disbelief.

“I didn’t,” he insists.

“Yes, you did!”

“You won, fair and square.”

“No, you couldn’t lose like a fucking man and you gave up—“

“What would have happened if you lost?” he asks the question and it hits like a punch to the gut. “I can’t win like that.” He looks defeated. You’re still pissed.

“Oh, what, now you’re being noble?” You’re still fighting. You want him to fight with you. Goddammit you want him to fight for you.

“I can’t win if it means losing you.” The air is sucked out of your lungs, once again. Your tears don’t give you a chance to stop them. “And if I have to lose you anyway, just let me give you this.”

Your throat closes up, and your voice is high-pitched and shaky. “That wasn’t your call to make.” You storm off, leaving him there, tears disguising with the rain.

It takes a couple of days for you to get back to the library. You’ve sobbed for what feels like hours on end, and you don’t have any more tears left to shed. Seungmin hasn’t shown up for practice, or even your lectures. Every time you think of him, you see him standing on that podium, and the wound bleeds open again.

The transcript from this morning’s mail sits neatly folded in front of you as you work. You don’t dare to open it. It’s a reminder of yet another thing that Kim Seungmin has taken from you. 

You swear you’ve been hallucinating him. You can even smell his cologne when you think of him. It’s the lack of sleep, you tell yourself. You almost miss the footsteps behind you as he walks up to your table.

He pulls up a chair and sits in it backwards, his chin resting against his folded arms. “Have you opened it yet?” he asks, gesturing to the transcript. Your stomach sinks as you realize it’s him.

“Uh…no,” you say with a slight shake of your head. You can’t look him in the eyes. 

“Are you going to?” he asks, his eyes still on you. You don’t respond.

He stands up and takes a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, and tosses it on the book in front of you. You look at him, puzzled, but you gently fold the paper apart. It’s his transcript.

“Kim Seungmin, Class Rank: #2”

You stare at the paper with wide eyes. Your hands begin to tremble, and you look up at him, not knowing what to say.

“You already beat me last semester,” he’s smiling, like he’s proud. “Don’t let it get to your head.” He chuckles as he nods at you, wrinkles forming around his eyes, and walks out of the room. You scramble towards your own envelope, tearing at the folds. You pull out that little yellow slip of paper, and sure enough, next to your name you see it.

“Class Rank: #1”

You don’t catch the tears as they stain the letters, smudging them like they’re trying to turn back time.

The SKZ house hums to life, lights turning on and music blaring through the speakers. Get your mind off of it, Yuna had said. You’re trying your best now, but you hope you run into him. You have so many things you need to say. 

You’re wandering aimlessly at this point, weaving through crowds, hoping that he’s here. Any brother you question just shrugs you off, they’re not even sure that he’s here. You slide the door to the back deck open, desperate to catch your breath. The string lights hum above you, the air chilly but not as cold now that Spring is approaching. The city lights in the distance try to console you, the warm glow offering solace against the dark sky.

The door slides open behind you and you jump, turning around. His hair is messier now, eyes sagging and hollow, like he hasn’t gotten sleep in weeks. 

“Looking for me?” he says, voice hoarse. Your jaw drops slightly at the sight of him. This isn’t Seungmin. Not your Seungmin.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, your throat closing up, shaking your head to keep the tears from falling. “I’m so sorry.”

He approaches you where you stand against the railing, hands in his hoodie pockets. He looks at you, and just sighs. You can tell he’s fighting with himself, but he clearly loses the battle in his head when he wraps his arms around you and holds you close.

“I’m not,” he whispers into your ear. “I’d do it again, every time. Even if you hate me, even if we never speak again.”

“Why’d you do it?” The memory of his betrayal stings. You didn’t earn the title, and it haunts you, even if only you two truly knew it.

“I don’t want to be your opponent anymore.” He says it so simply, like he’s known this whole time. “I just want to be yours.” You stop fighting the tears as they stain his sweatshirt. Your arms are holding onto him for dear life, like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

“Kim Seungmin,” you say, wiping your tears as you look up at him. “I’ve been yours this whole time.”

His hand finds your jaw and leans you against the railing, bringing himself down to kiss you. It’s gentle, like he’s trying to make it last forever. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him in as deep as your mouths will allow. It’s electric, and you feel the fire in you ignite once again. You break apart, foreheads touching, and he wipes away your tears and smiles.

“I’ll fight with you forever,” he laughs. “Just don’t leave me.”

“Don’t get all soft on me now, Minnie,” you laugh back, brushing his hair out of his face. And for the first time in a long time, the quiet felt like peace.

Until the glass starts rattling, and several pairs of fists bang against it, hooting and hollering. You both turn and see seven brothers waving through the window, all shouting and clapping. You hide your faces in embarrassment, flipping them off. Hooligans.

Seungmin wraps his arm around your neck, shielding you from the chaos. “You wanna get out of here?” he asks. You nod your head, and you both head down the side stairs, waving off the bystanders and holding hands. And for right now, this is the only fight that matters to you.

You’re not stupid. Which makes it all the more annoying to be sitting here, in the tutoring center, waiting for some random, overly caffeinated teacher’s assistant to mansplain the basics of biology to you like you’re twelve.

You’re quite smart, actually. Top of your class in high school, and excelling in your first year in the Apparel Design program. You just don’t give a shit about biology. Or anthropology. Or even music theory.

The ceiling is littered with fluorescent light, and it’s way too warm in here. Damn the university buildings for always cranking the heat when it’s cold out. You shed your fluffy cardigan and lean your head against your hand, looking at your class assignment. And still, nothing makes sense.

That’s when he stumbles in. He’s wearing his grey hoodie with the hood up, glasses sitting low on his nose, and he’s tripping over his own feet as he makes his way through the door.

He glances around the room, looking for someone pathetic enough to be failing a freshman-level course. The only other students in the room are with their tutors. He approaches your table with a confused look on his face.

“Here for biology tutoring?” he asks you. You nod your head, leaning back in your chair and looking up at him. He looks familiar.

Wait…doesn’t he live in your building?

“Aren’t you a freshman?” you ask him as he takes a seat. He nods, “I tutor for extra credit.” Great. Not only is he a know-it-all, but he’s your age. You wiggle in your seat, feeling like less than Magna Cum Laude material than you did before. 

“I’m Jisung. Nice to meet you. Why don’t we start with where you’re having trouble?” He smiles at you warmly, and you introduce yourself with a half-hearted and maybe slightly annoyed smile. His leg bounces under the table. Overly caffeinated? Check. 

But he wasn’t a mansplainer. The first thing you notice is that he’s kind. Sure, he’s a little awkward, but he doesn’t make you feel stupid. He takes the time to explain things to you, even if he has to do it a couple of times. He even answers your really dumb, painfully obvious questions without any hint of condescension.

Halfway through the session, you catch yourself staring at him. You notice his honey-colored skin and tousled hair. His hair peeks out of his hood, slightly wavy, and his glasses make the most beautiful frame for his big, brown-

“Y/N?” Jisung asks softly, eyes now meeting yours. Shit. You stare back, mouth agape, trying to think of an excuse as to why you were just staring. “Sorry! It’s just….don’t you live in Northstar Hall?” you question.

“Oh! Uh…yeah, I do. Fourth floor,” he offers back, sitting up straight.

“Third,” you reply. “I thought I’d seen you around before.” You laugh it off with a shake of your head, hoping he didn’t catch you moments before.

But he did. And he knew already, by the way. He knew exactly who you were the moment he walked through the door.

Most of his friends are SKZ boys. Sigma Kappa Zeta was a top-tier fraternity at your school. As a Kappa Mu girl, you often attended their parties. He isn’t in the frat, but he was always invited, mostly because his best friend was the fraternity president. He’d play a few games with friends, drink a lot of beer, and then crash on Chan’s couch.

“I’m also in your Anthropology class,” he states with a smile. “I sit in the back, though, you wouldn’t have noticed me. And we have Music Theory together. I sit with Chan, if you know who he is.”

That’s right. Chan’s in your music theory class. No wonder you never noticed him. Most of the girls you sit with always whisper about Chan during class. He was hot, but also a bit of a fuckboy. You preferred men who were much less cocky than he was, even if he’s a good friend.

“Right, of course. Jisung, Chan’s friend.” You nod. Why had you never noticed him before? He was cute. Maybe not the smoothest, but he was nice and clearly smart. He taps his pen against his fingers in a rhythmic pattern and hums to himself. Adorable.

You stare at your textbook, not able to focus on anything other than how close he’s sitting to you. It’s so hot in here. Did he smell like that when he walked in? If you moved your knee, right now, would he move his away from yours?

As your thoughts crossed into unholy territory, he shut his book to end the session. “Okay! I think you’re in a good spot now. How do you feel about exams next week?” he asks, clearly nervous but feeling proud to have helped.

“Well, I feel much better about gene theory now. I still think I need help with cells, maybe reproduction…” You trail off. You lie a little bit. “And, god, Anthropology is just…so confusing. I don’t even remember what our last Music Theory assignment was.”

He laughs, pushing air through his nose. “Do you…want me to tutor you with those too?” he asks, fiddling with his pen. 

“Yes!” you say, much too quickly. “I mean…I’m just so bad at…humans.” Smooth. He laughs at that. You secretly hope he found it cute.

“Okay, we don’t have much time ‘til exams, but send me your schedule, and we’ll see how much we can finish,” he smiles, handing you his phone to put your number in. You exchange numbers, say your goodbyes, and head out of the tutor center.

As soon as you turn around, Jisung lets out a huge breath. He stares dumbly at your contact in his phone. You entered your name with a little pink heart next to it. He’s still trying to process the last hour as he walks back to his dorm.

He gets to his dorm room, opens the door, and drops his bag on the floor, still in disbelief. Seungmin is sitting at his desk doing homework and looks up, “You good?” he calls.

Jisung says nothing. He just walks up to him and loudly drops his phone on Seungmin’s desk, your contact still open.

“Oh, good, you’re finally getting laid,” Seungmin glances and chuckles, patting him on the back. 

Jisung smacks his arm. “It’s that Kappa girl, remember? She’s in like three of my classes. I’m tutoring her.”

Seungmin raises his eyebrow. “Oh, good, you can finally tell her about all the wet dreams you have.” Jisung groans, flopping on his bed. “Wrap it before you tap it,” he adds. Ever the wise, he is.

“I don’t think I can even get to the wrapping part. I don’t even think she’d let me kiss her as payment for tutoring her.” He sighs. He’d always noticed you. You’re beautiful, who wouldn’t have? But he knew he never had a chance. He’s just Jisung.

Sure, he has the reputation of being the smart one in his classes, and he’s cool by association because he’s friends with the SKZ boys. But he isn’t buff like Changbin. He isn’t tall like Hyunjin. And he isn’t charming the way Minho is.

His phone pings. “Well, maybe you can, I don’t know, talk to her,” Seungmin says annoyingly, tossing him his phone. “It’s been like three months, dude.” Jisung winces at the impact, then looks at the screen.

A text message.

hey! thanks for the tutor session ^.^ you’ll be at SKZ tonight, right?

He blinks. Twice. Three times, before it registers that it’s you texting him. He stares at his phone, mind blanking for a few seconds before he starts typing.

hey! yeah i’ll be there~

He locks his phone and takes a deep breath. He’s got about 6 hours to mentally prepare for whatever awkward mess he’ll become the second he sees you. He gets a reply.

see you there :)

You’re straightening your hair in your dorm room while your roommate is giving you a brief rundown of her day. The whole day you’ve been racking your brain about Jisung, of all people. There’s nothing wrong with him; he just isn’t your type. Usually.

You just leaned towards guys that were…taller, maybe. More muscular. Less awkward, and definitely not very nice to you. Change can be good, right?

“Ryujin, do you know Jisung?” You ask your roommate, casually.

“Uhh…Jisung…hmm,” she looks at you from where she’s doing her makeup at her desk. “Oh yeah, he’s friends with Chan, right?” You nod. “What about him?”

“He’s tutoring me,” you state with surprise in your voice. “He’s kinda cute, right?”

“Sure, I guess, if you like guys that look like chipmunks,” she chuckles. You chuck a lipstick at her. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. He’s not ugly, sure.” 

You groan at her, rolling your eyes. “He was really nice to me!” 

“Love, you can’t just fuck every guy who’s nice to you. Make sure you actually like him,” she says firmly. 

She’s right. The first semester of college chewed you up and spit you out when it came to dating. Guys would be nice, get what they wanted, and leave you hanging. Everyone with newfound freedom wanted to keep it casual. Sex was nice, sure, but you wanted to be wanted. Treasured. Yearned after. 

But you also wouldn’t hate having sex with him. Maybe it’d be fun? Or, the most awkward night of your life. You were willing to find out.

You walk down to the basement of SKZ, music blaring, and the room already near full capacity. Your ripped jeans cling to your skin in the musty room, and it reeks of beer in there.

Your sorority sisters spot you and wave you over. Chaeryoung hands you a cold beer and pulls you in to dance with her. Everyone’s bumping into each other, getting drunk, but having a good time. You feel a tap on your shoulder, and turn to see a blonde man standing right behind you. 

“FELIXXXX!” you drunkenly scream in the man’s face while you tackle him into a hug. One of your best friends in the frat, Felix, is kind and beautiful and not trying to sleep with you. You met at freshman orientation and just clicked. A rarity amongst college students, it seems. It’s so nice to have a truly platonic male friend.

“Hi!” He hugs you back. “We’re smoking in Chan’s room, come!” You nod your head, looking around the room for one person in particular. You hadn’t seen him here yet and wondered where he might be hiding.

“Lix, is Jisung here?” you ask him as he’s leading you up the stairs.

“Yeah, he’s up here with us. He doesn’t really like being too close to the DJ; it gets loud as hell down there.” You try to hide your smile and only end up muttering, “Cool.”

“How do you know Jisung?” he asks you next as he lets people pass by you both in the stairwell.

“Oh! He’s tutoring me, I only met him today. He seems cool,” you tell him, holding him by the arm to steady yourself in your heeled booties. 

He squints at you. “Ah, okay,” nodding his head. He has a smug ass look plastered on his face. He looks at you like he knows something. You smile, roll your eyes, and push him the rest of the way up the steps.

Chan’s room is the biggest in the house, him being the chapter president and all. His bed is on the far right side of the room, and there are 3 couches arranged in a U shape on the left. There’s a decent sized coffee table in the middle, and there are tapestries hanging everywhere, for privacy, of course. The SKZ flag hangs proudly between two windows, and there’s various holes in the walls from many, many drunken nights.

Jisung looks up from his phone when the door opens. Felix leads you in, and a series of heys echo around the room. God, you’re even more beautiful than you were earlier that day. Sure, you’d done your hair and makeup, and put on a nice outfit, but you looked so beautiful when you were smiling.

You hug everyone in succession, Chan first and then around the room until you stop at him. He blinks up at you as you lean down to hug him, wondering if you just feel obligated to.

“Hey, good to see you,” you say in his ear as he snakes his arm around your back. He stops breathing for a second. “Hey, good to see you again,” he manages. You smell heavenly, and your eyes were sparkling from the glitter you had put on your eyelids.

You plop down next to him and take a beer that Hyunjin offered you. Felix plops down on the other side of you and starts talking to you about god knows what. He wasn’t listening, he was just admiring you. 

This couch was definitely made for only two people. He can’t focus on whatever Changbin is trying to talk to him about, his head only fills with the fact that your thigh was touching his. It was plush, warm, and it’d probably make a great pillow-

Tap tap tap. “Jisung, you got a light?” That’s your voice. And that’s definitely you tapping him. He turns to make eye contact with you, and suddenly his cheeks go red. “Oh, yeah, I do,” he says, grabbing a lighter from his hoodie.

But you don’t stick your hand out. You just press the joint to your mouth and stick it out for him to light for you. He obliges, because he’s a gentleman, obviously. He rests one arm on the couch behind you, and your shoulders touch as he lights the joint for you. He watches your cheeks hollow as you inhale, lean back into the couc,h and exhale up into the air. 

There’s nothing appropriate in his head right now. “Just what I needed,” you say, tilting your head towards him and batting your eyelashes. Jisung swears to himself. If you keep looking at him like that, he’ll drag you to the spare bedroom right now and have his way with you. “Thanks. Your turn.” You hold the joint up to his lips as he hits it, your eyes not breaking contact. It’s so hot in here. He can feel his jeans start to strain, but can’t bring his eyes to look away from you.

God, please let me have this, he thinks to himself as he exhales. 

The others go back to playing their silly little game, but you’re only focused on Jisung. Your lips are so pink, so plump, he can’t help but stare at them as you talk.

“Do you usually smoke with the students you tutor?” you tease. He chuckles, eyes half lidded. “No, they’d probably fire me.”

“You get paid?” you ask, taking another hit. “Nope! So I don’t care,” he giggles. You laugh, and you’re looking at him in a way he only ever dreamed of. He forgets that there’s anyone else in the room. He feels so high, so content, and much more relaxed than earlier.

Until you start to play with his hair. And then he’s painfully aware of the problem in his pants. Are you flirting with him? His heart is racing. But still, he just listens to you talk and watches the way you sink further into the couch. You yap about your fashion program, and he talks to you about the music he makes with his friends. His eyes are everywhere. On yours, your legs, your breasts, your mouth. 

It doesn’t register that everyone else has left the room until the floor stops vibrating and he no longer hears music echoing through the house.

You lean closer to him and whisper, “Walk me home.” Jisung’s never stood up so fast in his life.

It’s so hot inside because it’s freezing outside. But even then, you never wore a jacket to the frats. You’d either spill beer on it or just flat out lose it, so you always left it at home. Jisung notices and, without even asking, takes off his hoodie.

“You’re gonna be cold,” you whine as you look up at him. He just shakes his head at you. “You’re already cold. It’s like a five-minute walk, I’m good.” How considerate of him. The hoodie is warm when you pull it on. “Thank you,” you tell him as gently and soberly as possible.

You get to the dorm quickly, and your heart beats faster. Do I ask him to come up to my floor? Do I ask to go to his? You realize you only ever shacked up at frats. You pull his arm before you step inside. “My roommates at her girlfriend’s,” you tell him. “If you…wanna come up.”

Jisung nods his head, probably faster than he should. “That sounds nice,” he responds, opening the door for you. “But only if you have snacks.” You laugh at him and pull him into the elevator.

Sure enough, Ryujin is nowhere to be seen. It’s almost 2 am, and surely she would have passed out by now if she had planned on coming back.

You lie on your bed against the headboard and gesture for Jisung to sit next to you. You’re definitely still high, but god he looks so good in that t-shirt. His chest is straining against it. He looks fit. Is it hot in here? “You’re so hot,” you blurt out, suddenly very aware that it was not an inside thought.

He blinks at you. “Y/N, you’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.” His cheeks are flushed, and he’s staring at you like he wants to eat you. You think he might lean in, but he just hovers, lying on his side above you. It’s hot in here.

A few moments pass, and he’s still just staring at you. It’s nice, though. He’s not rushing; he’s just admiring you. His eyes scan your face, and you reach up to brush his curls out of his eyes. Your hand lingers against his cheek, and it’s warm.

You don’t speak, but he finally racks up the courage to lean in. Your hand snakes to the back of his neck and pulls him in the rest of the way. His lips meet yours, and you swear you can hear him let out a small whine. He tastes bitter from the smoke, but you couldn’t care less. 

The two of you quickly find a rhythm, the room filling with the sounds of your contentment. You’re kissing Jisung. Your heart is beating so fast, but you’re loving every second of it. One of his hands finds your jaw, deepening the kiss. Your free hand tugs his shirt, guiding him to lie above you.

“Is this…okay?” he pulls back for a moment, your foreheads touching. “More than okay,” you whisper back. His glasses are sliding off his face, and he looks so cute. A giggle escapes you as you gently remove his glasses and place them on your nightstand.

That was the last tender moment. Almost like a switch flipped on, his lips crash into yours, and his hands are everywhere. Your jaw, your waist, your hips are all tingling from his touch. A moment later, he’s slotting himself between your legs. You can feel how hard he is through your jeans.

He pulls away to slide his hands under your (his) hoodie and gently pulls it over your head. His hands cup your jaw as he looks with you with his deep, brown eyes. You feel like he’s staring into your soul. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers. Your voice escapes you. All you can manage is a slow nod of your head.

In an instant, his mouth is on your neck, kissing and nipping at the tender skin. You let out a moan and buck into him. You take the hem of his shirt and pull up, and he kneels to shed it in one smooth motion. He’s toned as hell. How he’s not so cocky with a body like that is a mystery to you.

Your jeans go next. He unzips them and slides them off, quickly but not too roughly. You’re almost embarrassed by how wet you already are, but your desire trumps that. His hands grip your thighs, and he lets out a moan. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs, placing kisses on your soft skin.

You can feel your heart beating even faster. Your hands find the button on his jeans. “Your turn,” you say, still out of breath. 

He stands up quickly and discards them on the floor, scrambling back on top of you in only a few seconds. He’s kissing you again, his tongue sliding against yours. One hand grips your waist, the other your neck. He works his way down, quickly but not rushed, until he’s kissing and sucking at the skin just above your breast. Your skin burns with every nip, you need him badly.

“Jisung…please,” you whine. He gasps as he pulls down the front of your shirt to expose the lace underneath. His hands find your breast, and he moans into your mouth. Your fingers tug at his hair, and he lets out a soft whine. 

“Fuck this shirt,” he says, lifting your top off. “And fuck this bra, too.” He unclips it from the back with one hand, and you get the feeling he’s done this more than you have. Did you think he was a virgin? Maybe, but you know he’s probably not now.

He’s squeezing you and sucking your nipples, and you really let it out. “Fuck, you sound so pretty,” he moans in between kisses. His hands find your hips, and he slides you down, fingers digging into your sides. He works his way down from your breasts, down your stomach, and stops right below your navel. Your stomach fills with need. You moan his name again, feeling impatient.

He doesn’t need to ask again. His lips place soft kisses on your underwear, the only layer before you’re completely exposed to him. He licks one stripe from your entrance to your clit, moaning into it. You shudder and buck your hips, chasing more. He hooks his fingers around the fabric and slides them off slowly. Torturingly slow.

“Stop teasing,” you groan. There’s a smirk on his face, and you hear him chuckle. He hesitates for a moment, wanting to savor it but equally as eager. “Okay,” he says. “You asked for it.” 

He doesn’t give you any time to ponder what he means. In two seconds, he’s spreading your thighs open and ravishing you. His tongue is inside you for a moment, and then it makes circles on your clit the next. “Fuck, Jisung,” you cry.

He’s a messy eater. His saliva is mixing with your slick, and you can feel it everywhere. On his chin, your thighs, pooling underneath you. “You taste so. fucking. sweet,” he emphasizes with every lick of your folds. The sounds you hear are absolutely obscene. You can already feel the heat in your stomach rising. This is the best head you’ve ever gotten. Jisung can tell.

You’re leaking everywhere, and he’s fucking it back into you with his tongue. His thumb is circling your clit, and your skin starts to tingle. Your moans are like music to his ears, and he’ll do anything as long as he can hear them over and over again. Your legs are shaking, and you’re trying desperately to hold on as long as you can. Every time you pull his hair, he lets out another moan, the vibration going straight to your nub.

You cry out when he slides two fingers inside of you, curling perfectly against your walls. “So fucking tight,” he mutters. His lips lock around your cli,t and he sucks, not gently but not hard. The heat in your belly gets hotter, climbing higher. He grips your thigh with his free hand to keep you open, and you’re screaming his name. 

“Keep going. Fuck, Jisung!” you scream as he sucks harder. You’re pushing him harder against you, and you’re not sure if he can breathe. He doesn’t care about oxygen, he just wants to taste every drop you’re willing to give him.

He can tell how you’re holding on by how hard you’re squeezing around him. “Baby, let go. I’ve got you,” he coaxes before entering a third finger, and fucking you harder.

He sucks your clit again, and your belly erupts. “Oh my, fuck!” you scream, your thighs locking around his head. You’re so overwhelmed, your body’s on fire, and you’re coming all over his face. He fucks you through it with his fingers, caressing your bud with his tongue as your orgasm washes over you.

Jisung slows, but he doesn’t stop. His tongue traces your folds as he sucks up your release. Your body jolts at the overstimulation, and your fingers grip his hair so hard he’s certain you might rip it out. 

“Ji…please…too much,” you whine at him, your body still trembling from the come down. He rests his head on your thigh to look up at you. “Tell me to stop,” he says.

Your eyes find him, but you don’t want him to stop. Not really. This is the best you’ve ever felt in your life, and you never want it to end. You take his cheek in your hand and shake your head. Truthfully, Jisung could spend forever between your legs, and it would never be enough.

He laces his fingers between yours and moves your hand out of the way. His head dips back down and continues to lap up every drop. You squeeze his hand and whine as his fingers spread your folds open. “Perfect fucking pussy,” he whispers into you. His tongue is in you again, and you feel a familiar heat creep back into your stomach.

He’s devouring you again, this time more gently. He flattens his tongue against you and licks from the bottom to the top. The overstimulation is too much, yet not enough at the same time. His lips close around your clit again as you writhe beneath him. Your free hand grips the top of your headboard as you grind against his face.

Two fingers enter you again, and you’re seeing stars. He knows exactly how to make you come, and he’ll do it as many times as he wants. Something about him knowing that is so fucking hot. Tears start to form in your eyes; you feel so fucking good. Your voice is getting hoarse from how much you’re moaning for him. 

“Fuck…Ji…I’m…gonna,” you whine, hearing the grit in your own voice.

“Please, baby, just one more,” he begs. “You’re doing so good for me. So fucking perfect.” His lips close around your bud again, and he sucks hard. Your body shakes beneath him, coming completely undone. His fingers fuck you through the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. Your thighs lock again, and you’re gushing all over his face. He licks up every last drop, like he still can’t get enough.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says with a laugh, like he can’t believe it himself.

Your breathing slows, and you just stare down at him with your jaw dropped. “What the fuck….what….was that,” you manage between breaths. 

He licks you from the entrance to clit one last time before making his way back up to you. “What? You’ve never squirted before?” he says with a smug look on his face. You just shake your head, still in awe. 

“Oh, baby…” he coos at you, brushing sweaty strands of your hair away from your face. Your hands cup his face, and you bring him down for a messy kiss. You taste yourself on his lips as your tongue explores his mouth. He’s so ho,t and you can’t get enough of him.

You reach down between both of you to cup between his legs. He’s rock hard. You feel slightly guilty, he spent so much time on you, and you’re not confident you can repay the favor in the same way.

Almost like he can read your mind, he says, “You don’t have to-“ 

You cut him off. “I want to. I need to. Please,” you plead. “Let me make you feel good.” Jisung could come in his shorts right now at the sight of you begging him.

He rolls himself over on his back next to you and watches as you straddle him. You push his hair back to look at his face. His eyes are perfectly round, and he’s looking up at you like you just gave him the greatest gift on Earth. You lean in to kiss him as you grind your hips against him. His hands grab your ass, and he can’t help but buck his own hips up.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whispers as you plant kisses on the side of his jaw and neck. “You’re gonna kill me.” You plan on it. 

You tease him, licking long, slow trails up his neck. Down his chest. Across his abs. Your fingers caress his shoulders and biceps. Jisung’s positive he’ll come as soon as you touch him.

Your movements are maddeningly slow. He’s fully whining now, grabbing a fistful of your hair as you ease his underwear down. He’s bigger than you expected. Girthier, too. You take his cock in your hand and drag your tongue along the shaft.

“Shit, baby. Quit playing with me,” he begs. A smirk creeps across your face as you circle the head with your tongue, moving your hand up and down slowly. After a few moments, you grow impatient. You need him now.

With a deep breath, you take him in all at once. The stretch of your cheeks burns, and you gag before he’s fully inside you. “Oh my god, baby, fuck,” he’s moaning and grabbing your hair, breathing shakily. You pause for a moment to adjust to his size, and soon you’re bobbing up and down, both hands squeezing and twisting around him.

Jisung doesn’t dare look down. He knows he’ll come as soon as he sees you choking on him. His hips buck up involuntarily, and he’s making the most pathetic sounds. You pick up your pace and deep throat him again.

“Baby, wait. I don’t wanna come yet,” he whines, pulling your hair to move you away.

You take him out of your mouth and look up at him. “I need to be inside you, please, baby,” he says while holding your face in his hands.

Your bodies shift, and he’s on top of you again, arms resting near your head. “Um…do you have a…” he asks awkwardly as if you didn’t just have a mouthful of his cock. You chuckle and nod towards the nightstand. He leans over to open the drawer and rips the foil packet with his teeth. 

He leans down to kiss you, and his hand finds yours. His other hand rolls the condom over his shaft, and positions himself at your entrance. You hold his back to help steady him as he enters you.

You moan in sync, your lips finding his again as he fills you up. “You’re so tight, you feel so good, baby,” he whispers. Your legs wrap around him as he begins to move, fucking you slowly but deeply. Your eyes roll back in your head, and the only thing you can think of is his name. 

He picks up his pace, and your grip on his hand tightens. He’s moaning into your mouth with a mix of profanities and your name. He still can’t believe this is happening. Your heat begins to pool in your belly for the third time that night. You’re on cloud nine.

He lets go of your hand to lift one of your legs above his shoulder, hitting the soft spot inside of you with every thrust. This angle feels euphoric. If the neighbors didn’t hear you before, they certainly can now. 

“Ji...please. I’m gonna come again,” you cry out between breaths. He smiles at you, sweat dropping from his forehead. 

“Come for me, baby,” he croons. He moves his thumb to your clit, and that’s all it takes. You’re breaking again, completely wrecked. All for him. The sight of you coming undone underneath him is enough to tip him over the edge, and his orgasm crashes over him. His thrusts slow as he fills the rubber, holding himself deep inside of you.

He falls on top of you, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re incredible,” he sighs, planting a kiss on your cheek. He still can’t believe you’re here, with him, under him.

It’s late, and you’re both exhausted. He cleans you up with one of your towels and disposes of the evidence in the trash can. He lies on his back and brings you close. “Thank you,” he whispers into your hair as you both drift off to sleep.

Jisung’s gone by the time you wake up. You reach over and feel nothing except the cold sheets on your side. And then it hits you. He must have gotten what he wanted and left. Men. Typical. Even the nerds.

It’s college. The first semester, at that. No one’s trying to be cuffed up for their first year of adulthood. Well, at least this time it was worth it. Three orgasms in one night? That’s a new record for you.

You reach over and grab your phone to check your messages, just in case. Only a couple of texts from your sorority sisters, and a sly message from Felix.

Have fun last night? ;)

Eat it, you shoot back at him. You get yourself together and take a warm shower. Your sins wash away, and a sense of relief floods you. If Jisung had been there in the morning, would it have been weird? Would he have felt obligated to text you? You’re slightly grateful he let himself out when he did.

No matter, you had a sorority event to attend later, and that would surely get your mind off of last night’s events.

“You just left?” Seungmin says, with his eyes wide open. “Are you pabo?”

“I panicked! I don’t know how this works! What if she wanted me gone before she woke up? Or what if she saw me sober and realized she made a mistake?” Jisung is rattling off.

“Well, you just sent an entirely different message by doing that,” Seungmin sighs. “Did you at least, I dunno, text her? Say, ‘Hey, I had a blast, but I had to run’?” Jisung doesn’t respond. Seungmin grabs a book and chucks it at his head.

“Ya! I just told you I panicked!” Jisung shouts as he shields his body from the attack. 

“For someone so smart, you can be really fucking dumb sometimes,” Seungmin replies. He is really dumb. He knows that, but deep down, he’s more insecure. Always anxious, always second-guessing himself, and never believing good things can happen to him. He’ll ruin a good thing before it even has the chance to start.

Ryujin waves her hand in front of your face and snaps a couple of times. “Hello? Are you listening to me?” You snap out of your daydream and back to reality.

“Sorry, just really tired from last night,” you say apologetically. Sorority brunches are fun, but they’re also so draining. How are you expected to just sit and talk with a smile on your face for two and a half hours the morning after a long night out?

“How was Jisung?” she asks with a sly smile. “You were all googly-eyed over him yesterday.”

“Oh my god, stop,” you moan, covering your face. “Good, I guess, I don’t know it was just a hookup…” You trail off. Ryujin’s face turns sad. She’s seen you get really excited over guys only to be disappointed by them in the end. “I’m fine though, promise!”

Yeji chimes in then. “It’s okay, love. There are so many more guys to meet. You’ll find one soon!” She squeezes your hand. Always the optimist, but you’re grateful anyway. 

Later that night, you neglect going out for staying in and watch your favorite movies, but you feel a bit less frazzled than you did that morning.

Everything works out in the end, right?

It’s Sunday morning, and you still haven’t heard from Jisung. You’re disappointed, but you shrug it off and go about your day. Exams start tomorrow, and you wouldn’t let stressing over a man ruin your GPA. You grab breakfast at the dining hall, which was filled with hungover students, and take it back to your dorm room. You find it funny that you could just go up one floor and knock on every door until you found Jisung’s. But then you’d look desperate. 

The rest of your Sunday is boring. Afternoon yoga class, another shower, and then it’s library time. The table in the corner is littered with books and notes, cramming for the week everyone affectionately calls “Hell Week”. You’re glossing over your Anthropology notes for the fifth time, filling out your latest assignment. It’s really easy. Like, do it with your eyes closed, easy. 

But if it wasn’t, who could help you? An idea pops into your head. You position your assignment in front of you and snap a picture. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers type out a message and hit send.

[pic.png] anthropology is stupid. help.

You set your phone face down, starting to panic. Great job, now you look really desperate. You close your Anthropology notes and open your laptop. You connect your headphones and play music, hoping to drown out the noise in your head.

Your phone lights up and your heart flutters. He replied.

where are you?

You blink at your phone. Okay, maybe everything’s fine. We’ll just pretend like nothing happened, right? It was probably a really bad idea to fuck your tutor anyway.

library. 2nd floor.

Ping.

be there in 10

Maybe he didn’t care that much. But you were set on your plan working. He strolls into the library some minutes later, and you try your hardest not to get too excited at the sight of him. 

“Hey!” you chirp. “I can’t look at this any longer without wanting to blow my brains out.” He chuckles at that. “We can take a look at it,” he replies.

Anthropology is not only stupid easy, but it’s also boring. But at least you can stare at Jisung while he’s running through all of the important facts and dates for your exam. 

“Hold on, I forgot my textbook,” he says, walking away from the table. “Be right back!” He comes back a few minutes later, flipping through the pages. “Ah, this page,” he gestures to the book and places it in front of you. He’s leaning over your shoulder, one hand resting on your chair and the other flipping through the book. You’re sure what he’s saying is important, but you can feel your body getting warm. He smells so good. Did he do something different with his hair? God, is it hot in here? 

You dare yourself to look up at him. He’s like six inches away from your face. You wonder how he’s feeling, if he thinks about the other night, or if you were just another lay to him.

Jisung can feel you staring at him, and he’s trying desperately to keep his boner at bay.

His eyes meet yours, and you hold eye contact, curious about how he’ll react. He swallows hard before speaking.

“Uh…why don’t we take a break? This stuff is…really boring,” he says, shakier than he meant for it to be.

You nod your head at him. He takes the seat next to you, fidgeting. Neither of you knows what to say. “Hey! Thanks for the great fuck, why’d you leave so early?” feels a bit heavy for library talk.

Fuck this. You stand up and grab his hand, leading him to the back corner of the library. The library hasn’t bothered to try to fix the overhead lights back here for years. Or so you’ve been told. Everyone knows this is the makeout corner. You’re pretty sure that the books back here have been collecting dust since 1982.

You lead him behind the bookcases and throw him up against the wall. Gently. Okay, maybe you’re a little mad. Jisung’s head thunks against the wall, his face in shock.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” you say before grabbing his face and bringing him down to kiss him. He doesn’t move for a second, brain still computing. But it only takes a moment for him to ease into the kiss, grab you by your waist, and bring you closer to him. It’s hot in here. He definitely has a boner now.

His hands slide down to your hips and around your ass. He gives it a squeeze and flips you so that you’re the one pinned against the wall. God, you’re surely going to be the death of him.

He plants kisses across your jaw and down your neck. You grind against his crotch, seeking any kind of friction. This is so juvenile. It’s fucking hot.

“This is a great arrangement, you know,” you mutter breathily. Your fingers grab his hair while he sucks on your neck. He lets out a moan when you tug a little harder.

“Hm? How so?” he questions.

“You tutor me, help me pass my exams, and we hook up on our breaks. Everyone’s a winner!” you say with a laugh. He bites your earlobe, and you let out a soft whine. “Works for me,” he whispers in your ear, seduction possessing him. 

Ha. Your evil plan is working.

Jisung would tutor you for twelve hours a day if it meant he could have you like this between sessions. 

Several minutes go by before both of your lips are plump and raw. He pulls back to catch his breath. “Maybe we should stop before I fold you over the table in front of the poor librarian,” he grins. You give him one last grind of your hips before you straighten yourself out. 

The rest of your session is super boring. You both end up forgetting about human evolution and start talking about random shit. He’s a huge nerd. Obviously. You’ve dabbled in anime, your favorite is Fruits Basket. You tell him how you sobbed on the floor with Ryujin during Your Name, before you saw the ending.

He’s smiling at you as you’re yapping. He tells you that his dream is to be a music producer one day and that he and his friends write songs together. You find him so fascinating. He’s so different from anyone else you’re usually attracted to. Maybe change is good. You recall the other night and affirm it.

He walks you out of the library and back to the dorm. He tells you he has plans with his friends tonight, but says he’ll text you the next time he’s free. You say goodbye in the elevator and get off on your floor.

The hall echoes with your footsteps as you race to give Ryujin the rundown. You barge through the door with the widest grin on your face. She’s surprised, but she’s happy to see you happy.

“If he hurts you, he’s gonna regret it,” she asserts. You roll your eyes at her, but you’re grateful she cares so much. You’d probably crash and burn without her, and she knows that. 

The two of you watch silly videos on your phone together before you go to sleep, feeling hopeful.

Monday morning rolls around, and you have a bit of pep in your step. Your day is still busy, as you’re taking your Apparel class exams today. But you know you can pass those with a breeze. 

Jisung’s been texting you, too. Every notification sends butterflies to your tummy. You send lots of memes back and forth, and just generally yap to each other.

J: busy today? Y/N: I gotta lock in on this paper :( Y/N: It’s due at midnight…. J: how much have you done? Y/N: …… J: ㅠㅠ J: I’m upstairs if you need help. 408.

Okay, now you really gotta lock in on this paper. You put your headphones in, seeing a very, very hot reward in sight.

Jisung’s dorm building is close to the center of campus, so the guys will stop by between classes to hang out from time to time. He normally enjoys this time, the vibe is much different from the frat. Until they’re teasing him, and then he wants to kick them all out.

“Jisung-ah, Seungmin tells me you’re hooking up with Y/N,” Chan says, sitting on Jisung’s bed. Jisung groans.

“Seungmin! Stop spreading my business!” he hucks a notebook at him from his bed. Seungmin yelps.

“C’mon, man, you guys were fucking each other with your eyes the other night. It was so obvious,” Felix laughs.

“He didn’t listen to a word I said as soon as she walked in the room,” Changbin adds.

He shoves a pillow over his face, willing them to go away. Hyunjin saves him when he finally starts grilling Seungmin about the girl he’s been seeing. He shuts them down quickly. “I am not seeing her. She’s annoying, and I hate her,” he grumbles.

“Ah, so what are those marks on your neck? Get into a fight with an octopus?” Minho teases from the corner. That earns him a shoe to the forehead. Jisung’s just glad the heat is off of him for once.

The guys are all giggling and laughing until there’s a knock at the door.

Keyboard clicks still fill the room after three hours, and you want to throw your computer across the floor. You’re almost done, but you need a breather. Good thing you have the perfect solution.

you home?

You hope he is. You take a look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t look awful, just like your average college student. The t-shirt you’re wearing is worn, and your sweatpants have coffee stains. Maybe you should change. You move to your dresser and pull out a pair of pink pajama shorts and a matching button-up shirt. Not trying too hard, just trying to be cute.

About twenty minutes go by, and still no reply. You’re restless in your chair, thoughts filling with the events of Friday night and yesterday. You start to get a bit antsy because you desperately need a break. And Jisung. To break you.

You decide that you’d at least give his door a knock. You put on your slippers and head up to the fourth floor. The boys' floor smells worse than yours, but the layout is the same. You don’t even have to check the room number to know which one’s Jisung’s, there are anime posters all over it. 

With a deep breath, you knock on the door. You hear someone shout, “Come in!” so you turn the handle to walk inside. What you weren’t expecting was eight pairs of eyes on you as you entered.

You see the SKZ boys all scattered around Jisung’s room. There are two on the floor, four in the beds, and two sitting at the desks. Well then. I guess you’re not taking your break in here.

“Sorry to bother…could I borrow Jisung for like 30 minutes?” you ask, cheeks feeling hot, obviously not realizing he was busy.

Jisung pops up from the bed and walks over to you. There’s a series of oos and ahs that scatter the room. 

“30 minutes? My money’s on 15,” you hear Seungmin say.

“Nah, surely it’ll only take 10,” you hear Minho chime in.

“Oh c’mon, guys, give him some credit. He’ll be back in 5!” Jeongin laughs. 

“Please get me out of here,” Jisung pleads with you, closing the door. You flip them off from the hallway, and they all start howling. Men are idiots.

As soon as the door to your room closes, you’re on top of him, ripping off his hoodie and untying his sweats. You barely make it to the bed before he’s doing the same to you. 

“Fuck these shorts are so hot,” he moans. You unbutton your shirt to reveal your bare breasts and his head starts spinning. “Don’t take that off. Leave it just like that,” he demands, guiding you on your back.

He kisses you like he’s been hard since yesterday. He basically has been. He pays special attention to your nipples, grabbing a mouthful of one and twisting the other. It’s been less than five minutes, and you’re a whiny mess beneath him, panties soaking through your underwear. 

His shirt comes off. You’re kissing his neck as he’s grinding into you through his boxers, and moaning like he’s actually inside you. He knows how pathetic he looks, but he’s been so fucking horny since yesterday that he doesn’t care. 

You’re pleading with him as he works his way down to your core. He grips your thighs, sucking bruises into them. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whines when you yelp at the sting. “You’re so perfect I can’t help myself.”

Your panties slide off with practiced ease, and you hold your breath in anticipation. Even with a giant hard-on, he’s still taking his time with you. He’s licking your thighs and the sides of where you need him to be, and caressing your belly right where your heat is rising. 

“Jisung,” you say, annoyed that he’s taking so long. “Fucking move.”

He lifts his head up from between your thighs. “Say please,” he says back, shit-eating grin on his face. You grumble at him, but eventually give in.

“Ji, baby, please,” you whine, looking down at him. “I need you.” Your face is so pretty when you beg, he has to catch himself before he starts drooling. 

Jisung can’t deny you when you sound like that, moaning his name. He dips down and traces your folds with his finger, spreading your slick everywhere. He slides one finger inside of you, curling it slowly. You moan, but you’re still not fully satisfied.

“Your mouth, Ji. I need your mouth,” you plead with him. He’s toying with you, and he’s enjoying it. “Please.” 

He smiles, kissing right against your clit. His finger slides out, then his tongue replaces it. He laps up your wetness, drooling all over your throbbing cunt. Finally. “Tastes so sweet,” he mumbles against your skin. “So fucking good for me.”

The heat begins to climb again, and you don’t try to hold back this time. He hums against your clit, and you’re already almost there.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so close,” you cry. He slides two fingers back inside you, curling them just right. He flattens his tongue against your bud and increases his speed, fucking you faster. You’re seeing stars, grinding against his face to chase your release.

He sucks on your clit, and you snap. Your thighs tighten around his head, your body trembles, and you’re leaking all over his face. He coaxes you through it with his tongue and fucks the mess back into you with his fingers. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he coos, loosening up again. 

Lust is still clouding your mind. You can’t wait for him anymore; you need to be full of him. You pull him up towards you, sliding his boxers down. He kisses you slowly, letting you taste your arousal on his tongue.

“Let me ride you,” you say. Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up like he can’t believe you asked him that. Any day of the week, that’s a fuck yes. He lies on his back to pull you on top of him. But first, you get to play too. You kiss him, deeply and slowly, while grinding your cunt against his length. He moans into your mouth, grabbing your ass and guiding you as you rock back and forth. You lean down to nibble on his earlobe and place kisses on his jaw and neck. Jisung’s brain is exploding now, awestruck at how you’re sliding on top of him.

You don’t stop. Your body tingles, overstimulated, but you increase the pace. The heat trickles back to your core, building fast. Jisung starts to realize what you’re doing, and he has to hold himself back from coming too quickly. The sight of you using his body, his cock, for your own pleasure is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. He tightens his grip on your ass, helping you move against him.

“Baby, you’re so fucking hot, I want you to come all over me, just like that,” his praises bring you closer and closer to the edge. You brace yourself on his shoulders and move your hips back and forth faster and rougher. The tip of his length hits your clit with every thrust, and soon after you’re coming undone.

You scream his name so loud you’re sure the whole building can hear you. He keeps you rocking back and forth as the wave crashes over you, and he catches you when you fall forward. He kisses you hard, moaning into your mouth. “Holy shit, that was so fucking hot,” he whispers between kisses. You’re too fucked out to respond, but he gently lays you down on your back, peppering kisses all over your face.

“It’s okay baby, I’ve got you,” he says gently, moving the sweaty strands of hair out of your face. But still, you need more. 

“Inside…need you…now,” you manage, completely unraveled now. “Baby, we can stop, it’s okay-“ You cut him off. “No…now,” you tell him, almost demanding him.

“Okay, baby, I’ll be gentle,” he whispers. He leans over to your nightstand to grab a condom, but you stop him. “Need you…fill me up.”

Jisung’s brain almost shuts off. “Whatever you want, princess, let me take care of you,” he says, positioning himself at your entrance. If he thought he’d come quickly with a condom, he can’t imagine he’ll last long without one. He slides inside you, and he’s struggling to contain himself. You’re so fucking wet and tight, sucking him in.

He’s showering you with praise as he fucks you deeply and slowly, planting kisses between every thrust. “You’re so beautiful.” Kiss. “You did so well for me.” Kiss. “You feel so fucking good.” Another. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Faster..” you moan. He obliges.

“Yes, baby,” he whispers back. “Anything for you.” He picks up his pace, and you feel another climax building. You moan incoherently, but you feel alive. Jisung can tell you’re close by how tight you’re clenching around him.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me.” And you do. Your body’s shaking harder than you thought possible, your vision flashing white. Your pussy squeezes around him, and he’s coming right with you, hot ropes staining your walls. He fucks you both through your orgasms, moaning your name.

He stills and just lies with you, still inside. Both your breathing slows, and you just stare at each other in awe. He kisses you, still praising you for how well you did. You recover a bit more energy, wrap your arms around him, and tell him how good he made you feel. “You’re incredible, Ji,” you coo at him. 

After a few minutes, he cleans you up with a wet towel, helping you put your clothes back on. He wraps his arms around you, and you both drift to sleep.

He wakes you only an hour later. “Baby,” you hear. “You gotta finish your paper.” You groan, but he’s right. He sits you up and brings your laptop over, helping you finish before you both fall back asleep.

Jisung’s still there when you wake up in the morning.

The next few days are packed, but Jisung always finds time to help you cram. You don’t really need it, but you’ll take any excuse to see him again. You take your exams, study, fuck the frustration out, sleep together, repeat. 

The last day of exams comes, and you’re not quite sure where you stand with him. Are we just fuck buddies? Something more? You’re not quite sure, and you’re too afraid to ask.

You sit next to each other to take your Anthropology exam. It’s really, really easy, as you suspected it would be. Jisung notices how quickly you finish, even faster than he did. The professor gets up to dismiss everyone at the end, and you walk out of the classroom together.

“Was that test easy or what?” he asks you.

“God yeah, I memorized most of that stuff weeks ago,” you reply. He blinks at you a couple of times, making sure he heard you right.

“Weeks ago? I thought you were bad at…humans,” he questions. You freeze. Ah. You forgot about your evil plan.

You don’t respond. He stops walking and faces you. “Baby, why are you pretending to be dumb?”

“I just thought that…I needed a reason to keep seeing you. And then I woke up, and you were gone, and I thought that maybe you didn’t like me, so I just kept up the lie,” you tell him. “I’m sorry. I just wanted you to like me for more than just sex.”

Jisung looks at you like it’s simultaneously the sweetest and the most insane thing he’s ever heard. “Me? Not liking you? What?” He has the most puzzled look on his face.

“Y/N, I like you so much. This whole week, I’ve just been thinking of you, how to help you, wanting to see you again. I’m sorry about leaving you like that. I panicked because I didn’t think you’d like me after that, so I ran before you could see how dorky I am.”

“You could have texted,” you pout. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, giving you a hug. “But I do like you a lot. I want to be with you. I want to be yours and only yours.”

You smile up at him. “I like you too, dummy.” 

He kisses your forehead. “Can I be your boyfriend?” he asks.

“Of course,” you reply, bringing him in for a kiss.

At the next SKZ party, you both walk in holding hands, and your sisters clap and cheer. Seungmin calls Jisung pabo again. Felix gives you a thumbs up.

[a/n: this was much longer and much filthier than i planned for! i had so much fun writing it though ♡ if you didn't notice, I set up for a seungmin enemies to lovers fic and I really want to write a frat president chan fic also lmao. let me know what you think ♡]