Kali

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 ♡]