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jedisupernova · 7 days ago

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compress, repress (part ii) — kwon jiyong & choi seunghyun

summary you have jiyong convinced you're the love of his life—he’s got the stuttering heartbeat to prove it. whilst he’s riding the high of having the upper hand, its not long until you see what else is at play. seunghyun, however, doesn't like being told no—let alone have his morals challenged—so what happens when he looks into the mirror, and the reflection is you? better yet, what does he do when he likes it?

notes minors dni contains challengers au, fem reader, unabashedly plus size reader as i am myself but anyone can read, takes place in the mid 2000s (hence mentions of certain music, technology, media, etc.), everyone is a college senior, tennisplayer!jiyong and tennisplayer!seunghyun; reader is head of debate team, smut (oral f and m receiving, p in v, in the car, dirty talk, finishing early, a scene that took me one full day to write, either are subs, suffocating sexual tension) angst (all three are at times depicted as not the greatest of people, love triangle, inferiority complex, infidelity, keeping things from each other, arguments, yearning, deception, greed, seunghyun is a fckn asshole but is about to be humbled big time bc he's down BAD, jealousy, possessiveness, insecurity; this is just straight up messy), confessions, religious imagery, i don't know anything about tennis i tried my best to write about a game pls don't laugh at me, if you went to stanford and are reading this not you're not, and inevitable typos though some are purposeful.

author's note welcome to part ii of my challengers au!!!! this part is Tea . . . a brief disclaimer: these are only characters; in no way do i claim either would act this way in real life. please read part i or else you will be very confused! this is longer than part i, so i suggest you get comfy. please lmk what you think!! i always want to hear your thoughts! my ask box is always open 🩷 see you next friday for part iii 🎾

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

you looked up at the sound of a backpack landing unceremoniously in the seat diagonal to you. you glanced at the hand holding the iced coffee set down next to yours, eyes tracing up the arm, unamused by who it belonged to. “oh. it's you.” you said, monotone, going right back to editing your midterm essay due in two hours—right before your next class—scrolling through the word document on your laptop. the draft introduction for your senior thesis, along with a half-finished outlined agenda for tonight’s debate team meeting were open in other tabs, too. thursdays are your busiest, after all. needless to say, you didn’t have time for whatever the fuck bullshit seunghyun needed to get off his chest, as elucidated by the smug grin on his face: “does your phone not work or what?” “it works perfectly fine, thank you.” you answered without looking up, pressing the chunky keys to fix a fragmented sentence in your conclusion paragraph. seunghyun sat down across from you, taking a swig of his coffee as if this was normal. you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, so here you both were—co-existing. he ran his fingers through his messy hair, his lifted arm giving you an unsolicited whiff of post-workout body odor.

your expression soured slightly, waving your hand in front of your face. you leaned back at little, the brief squeak of your chair catching his attention. “listen, i know your ego’s bruised or whatever,” you said, pulling your laptop and coffee closer to you—but more importantly farther from him. “but that doesn’t mean you get to inflict biological warfare on me. that’s just unfair.” even jiyong doesn’t smell this bad post practice, you thought to yourself. seunghyun’s eyebrows furrowed, sniffing his shirt. he hid his brewing embarrassment behind another sip of his coffee, “i don’t smell that bad.” he muttered. “and who said my ego was bruised?” “speak for yourself.” you retorted. he began feeling exposed, turning to self-inflicted overcompensation: “the—the shower i usually use at the locker room was taken, and i was running late.” he explained, but to no avail, seeing you zeroed back in on your laptop. not to worry, though, he knew just what would get your attention: “don’t smell as bad as jiyong, though. right?” he smirked. you looked at him, expression unreadable. “on the contrary, actually. took you long enough, too.” you commented, sarcasm identifiable in your blunt tone. “i know you were pissing yourself to mention him first thing.”

seunghyun didn’t say anything. you ceased typing, gradual realization washing over you. you looked at him, crossing your arms over your chest, an amused smile stretching your lips. he didn’t like the feeling it stirred in his chest. “that’s why you called when you did.” you thought aloud, eyebrows raising. “you knew jiyong and i went out.” “of course i knew.” seunghyun tried to play it cool, shrugging his shoulders. he subconsciously mimicked your movements, crossing his arms over his chest. “we’re best friends. we tell each other everything.” “right, right.” you scoffed, taking a sip of your coffee. “that’s why you gave him my number at the hotel.” you recited his obvious lie with a dramatic nod, effectively annoying him. he licked his lips, awkwardly adjusting his posture in his seat. “you didn’t, like,” his gaze became finicky, glancing down at his lap. the fuck is my problem? why can’t i look at her? she’s just a person, his inner monologue rambled. he knew his question was juvenile, but it wasn’t enough to stop himself. “do anything, did you?” some part of him was doubtful about jiyong’s bravado. perhaps it was a reflection of insecurity rather than simply refusing to believe his best friend could land someone so you when jiyong’s so . . . him . . . but good luck to anyone whom tried to get seunghyun to tell the difference. or admit to it.

you didn’t help. “why?” you questioned, tearing the remainder of your toasted croissant in half, chewing on one piece. “afraid i’m damaged goods now?” seunghyun was appalled—genuinely offended. he was unsure whether it was more of how casually the accusation rolled off your tongue, or that you thought of him like that at all. either way, his face scrunched up akin to yours when his armpit took a breather. “what?” his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head. “no. that’s not—that’s not at all what i meant. listen, i may be shitty, but i’m not downright fucking awful—” “—i’ll be the judge of that.” you cut him off, finishing your croissant, wiping your fingers with a napkin—all without sparing him a glance. “fine, whatever.” he scoffed, wanting to move the conversation elsewhere. but his pride stuck out like a sore thumb: “i’m not some villain of a guy. i don’t slut shame.” he continued against his better judgment, digging himself into a metaphorical hole. “i mean, i really don’t have a place to. if you knew half the things i’ve done—”

you shut him right up with the look on your face, seeing him adjust in his chair, hearing him clear his throat. “i don’t have time for this.” you told him bluntly, shaking your head dismissively. “i have deadlines to meet.” seunghyun didn’t appreciate your tone, “i do, too. you’re not special.” he said curtly. “we go to the same school.” he reminded you, frustrated when you didn’t look up from your laptop. seunghyun took a hefty gulp of his coffee, his gaze fluttering around his immediate surroundings—the campus shuttle driving by, ears perking up at the sound of the bell ringing atop the door, followed by the flurry of conversations throughout the bustling café as a whole. his eyes inevitably returned to you, seeing you biting your inner cheek, concentrated on your screen—you finally figured out how to better word your thesis statement in your introductory paragraph; its been bothering you for days—trailing past your chin, to your neck.

seunghyun knows what he’s looking at. he’s smart enough to not think its a shadow, though your hickey looked mostly healed. his foot tapped underneath the table, picking at his nails, his mind jumping to its own brash conclusions: probably gave it to her when he was—he kissed his teeth. he raked his fingernails against his eyebrow—anything to get that god awful image out of his head, damn near clawing at it to do so. you were unbothered and blissfully unaware of seunghyun’s inner turmoil, pressing save on your essay, moving on to tonight’s meeting agenda. “what’s this?” you looked up, seeing him gesturing to his neck. he got himself together enough to display his characteristic shit-eating grin. “a mosquito bite?” “oh,” you finished your coffee. “you’re still here.” that touched a nerve, much to your satisfaction: “yes i’m still fucking!—” his voice descended into a whisper before cutting himself off completely, suddenly remembering you two were very much in public.

seunghyun leaned in, “look,” his voice was much quieter, “is you going out with jiyong your way of getting back at me? for not calling?” you can’t remember the last time you were face-to-face with someone so deeply enveloped in their own world, wholeheartedly convinced everyone else simply existed to revolve around them. even your old team captain had his moments of humility, albeit fleetingly. seunghyun was just point blank unapologetic, and completely serious, with the way he waited patiently for your answer. “is that why you’re acting this—this way?” “go ahead.” you sat back in your seat, arms returning to your chest. “i know there’s another word you’d prefer to use.” you challenged. he dismissed you, shaking his head. “i’m not calling you a bitch.” “that rolled suspiciously smooth off your tongue.” you tutted, feigning surprise. “i thought you were a card-carrying feminist.” “if you say so.” his arms returned to his chest, too. “if you’re actually curious,” he tilted his head condescendingly, playing this game of semantics eye-to-eye. “i’d prefer to use the term ‘unhinged.’”

you let out a laugh, unabashedly mocking him, going as far as to clap a few times—undeterred by the couple of fellow students who turned around at the noise. you liked this sparring, as aggravating as he could be. “there it is. a classic.” your smile turned him into the smallest man in the world. it was similar to how he felt when jiyong switched his service motion: like looking into a mirror, except this was worse. it was as if he was staring at a carbon copy of himself: someone who knows who they are, and knows that self-assurance intimidates the fuck out of everyone else. your willingness to challenge him didn’t make seunghyun second-guess his motives. he’s sure enough in his murky understanding and grip on his masculinity to preserve his self-esteem in the midst of adverse conversation, or people who may skirt his moral compass. it was the realization there’s no such thing as having the upper hand with you—he has to learn to share that glory. it wasn’t a question of if you were up to the challenge of him—that was a no-brainer. if anything, he needed to figure out if he was up for you. its apparent in her fucking aura, seunghyun’s mind raced; terrified, yet enthralled you communicated so much through a mere look. or maybe he’s trying to come to terms with something, though his pride won’t let him.

“let’s settle this over lunch sometime.” there it was: his attempt at getting the reins back. “where do you live? roble?” he referred to one of the upperclassmen residential halls nearby. you didn’t hide your smirk, shaking your head with an amused chuckle. it’s like the jokes write themselves . . . “what exactly is there to settle, seunghyun?” you asked. though it was a rhetorical question, you answered it anyway: “might i remind you, you came up to me. i was just minding my own.” you put your hands up, cutting seunghyun off before he could interject. “he drove me around in his land rover,” you gestured out the window, but in your head, it was jiyong. “and you’re offering me spare meal credits before the semester ends?” it's true: thanksgiving break was around the corner, and winter break wasn’t too far off afterward with final exams in between. seunghyun opened his mouth again, but you weren’t having it: “you wanna know why i’m with jiyong? okay, i’ll tell you.” you nodded, “its because he keeps his fucking word, and doesn’t act like he’s in a perpetual dick-swinging contest.”

“but you two aren’t like, official, right?” “it's like you’ve never been told 'no’ before in your entire life.” you waved him off, turning your head to look out the window. “no, i have.” he corrected. “it's just interesting when the person telling you 'no’ is clearly lying.” “you’re starting to sound like the guy every girl is warned about before she goes to college—no, since goddamn sentience.” you corrected yourself, giving him a look. “my bad. let me clarify.” seunghyun licked his lips, unable to wipe the smile off his face, clearly having something up his sleeve. “are you not the girl who still put her number in my phone, even after i said i wouldn’t give it to jiyong?” you didn’t have anything to say to that. he took the win, albeit not so humbly. “right. i thought so.” he nodded, satisfied. “don’t act so innocent. lying doesn’t look good on you.” “what makes you think i care about what looks good on me? you’re no better.”

seunghyun felt he was inching closer to the crux of this, illustrated in your now stern expression and resolute tone: “really? enlighten me.” you caught his drift, leaning forward, speaking only for him to hear. “you looked like a lost puppy at that elevator,” his face dropped. “so desperate to find me, you didn’t have fucking shoes on. latched onto every look you could get until those doors closed. just to play in my face, thinking it's my first day on earth. only come up to me today, wanting to have your cake and eat it, too.” you shook your head, gaze unwavering—piercing. “i’m not your fucking mommy, seunghyun. i am not the one. you don’t get to swing your dick in my face when i don’t tell you where i’ve been, or where i’m going.”

well, fuck. seunghyun poked his tongue against his cheek, looking down at his lap, masking his embarrassment from your eviscerating humbling with a grin. “who said i want you to be my fucking mommy?” he asked, tone unaffected. “sounds like you’re trying to tell me something.” “you know what,” you tapped out. there was no point: “you can continue talking in circles by yourself. i’m done here, anyway.” you closed your laptop, tugging the zipper of your backpack open. “he doesn’t know what he’s doing.” seunghyun tried to talk with some fucking conviction, to offer some sort of warning, but the sight of you getting up—completely unbothered—fucked with him more than he was willing to admit. “i don’t know what it is with men and using cryptic ass language,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. you lifted your head, setting your backpack on the table. you looked down at him, “just say what you fucking mean.” “okay,” seunghyun looked up at you, body language preserving the last shred of dignity he had—stretching his legs, feet underneath where you sat moments ago. “did jiyong tell you about our match against pepperdine next week?”

it was inexplicit, but tauntingly clear: you weren’t entirely let in on jiyong’s life. it was your turn to jump to conclusions, albeit internally: he probably has a reason for not mentioning it, but why wouldn’t he? it's such a basic, no, fundamental aspect of his life. it should be a given. is he using it to play in my face, cherry-picking shit for me? and for what? to let me in whenever it's convenient?—“i thought so.” seunghyun’s voice cut your internal conflict off. “and he’s not going to.” “he will.” to your fortune, your voice kept its conviction, but it's lessened volume didn’t evade seunghyun’s trained ear. “yeah, keep telling yourself that.” he got up from his chair. his work here was done: he got to the point and under your skin. when you went to open your mouth, as if on cue, your phone rang in your pocket. a gut feeling, and a swift glance at one another, communicated you both knew who it was. seunghyun turned around, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. that’s right, he thought to himself, grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. they have class together today. he saw your hesitancy, “nah, go ahead. answer him.” seunghyun took the last definitive sip of his coffee, leaving his empty cup next to yours, walking out of the café. “don’t wanna intrude.”

you fucking hated to admit it, so you didn’t. but your pensive glance at jiyong, who was sitting on your bed, going on about his plans for the upcoming thanksgiving holiday, said everything your mind pestered over for the last near week. you found the date and time of the game from the sports section in the stanford daily’s printed edition—this saturday at 1:30 pm—no mention of it from jiyong. you returned your gaze to your laundry basket lodged atop your desk, folded clothes at the end of your bed, whereas jiyong was sitting directly diagonal, his fingers tapping idly on your nightside table. “jiyong?” “yeah, baby?” you tried to be casual about it. keyword being tried: “do you—do you have anything coming up this weekend?” you kept your focus on folding your last few shirts, nose briefly scrunching up in internal defeat. not my smoothest, your inner monologue tutted. jiyong looked at you, “no. why?”

so he just lied. everything’s on the table now—you turned to look at him, “so no game on saturday?” his posture stiffened. “how did you know about that?” “seunghyun told me.” you said without thinking, irritation preceding rationale. jiyong’s eyebrows furrowed, “seunghyun told you?” he repeated, confused. “when? did he text you or something?” his nerves didn’t take long to surface, insecurity attempting to fill the gaps. “i—no, he didn’t.” you tried to patch things up. again, tried. “we ran into each other the other day when i was getting coffee—” “—you did?” that didn’t help the nagging voice in his head. “where do you even go?” “that’s not the point, jiyong.” you dismissed. “why didn’t you tell me? and why did you lie just now?” “because i'm—” he licked his lips, scrambling. “because i’m more than just tennis.”

the sound of your scoff ticked him off. where is this attitude coming from?? he wondered. it reminded him of the worst parts of seunghyun—or maybe he’s misplacing his bitterness. “'more than just tennis.’” you repeated to yourself, tsking. “i don’t like liars, jiyong. you know this.” your eyes met his from your spot across your dorm, the look on your face harnessing the ability to send an atheist to confessional. “if you’re stringing me along, might as well just say it.” “i’m not!” jiyong exclaimed desperately, shaking his head. “i’m not. i swear. i'm—i’m just—” he let out a breath. “i’m not good at these things. relationships,” he clarified. “sometimes i don’t know what to tell you and what to not.” “but this is, like, the most basic thing about you, jiyong. it's written on all the clothing you wear.” you countered. “i mean, do you not want me to come?” “i do. its just that—” he kissed his teeth, losing his words. “its … it's hard to explain.”

you watched his head sink into his palms, the top of his stanford tennis baseball cap visible to you. it was a pitiful sight, though you couldn’t help the percolating sympathy tugging at your chest. you walked over, sound of your footsteps approaching making jiyong lift his head, looking up at you stood between his knees. “would i make you nervous?” “y-yeah,” he broke out into a sheepish smile. isn’t it obvious?—“i mean, who wouldn’t be?” you didn’t say anything at first, only bringing your hand up, holding his cheek in your palm, watching his eyes close to the touch of your thumb tracing his cheekbone. “i’m just a person, jiyong.” you told him. he shook his head, as if it was a personal insult: “no. you are not just a person.” his sentiment affected you harder than anticipated. his hands traced your bountiful waist, fingers feeling the denim of your jeans, palms resting on the back of your thick thighs. his forehead landed on your stomach, “don’t ever say that again.” he murmured into your shirt.

your hand traced the collar of his shirt, tenderly rubbing between his shoulder blades. the image was saintly: a disciple begging for forgiveness, the deity having mercy. your wrist accidentally collided with his cap’s visor, disorienting its backwards position on his head. “you shouldn’t wear this as often as you do.” your voice was noticeably softer. “i like seeing your hair.” “you . . . you do?” he raised his head, eyes having grown twice their size through his brief stint in purgatory. “mhm.” you hummed, taking the cap off his head. you adjusted the closure, fixing it to aptly fit your head. you looked over your shoulder, spotting your reflection in the mounted mirror above your dresser. “how do i look?” his smile was big and stupid, “really cute.” he chuckled. he pressed a kiss onto your clothed stomach, wishing for your attention. “really, really cute.” “ready to cheer you on, hm?” “yeah, you do.” he was flustered at an atomic level, unable to meet your eyes upon your gaze returning to him below you.

“matter of fact,” he giggled, teeth finding his bottom lip. “keep it on.” his finger curled into the hem of your jeans, tugging at the button. you tsked disapprovingly, “i should’ve known.” you walked away, returning to your laundry basket. “why?” he playfully drew out the last syllable, watching you with a soft look of admiration. “i have things to do.” you said, unable to deter the sheepish grin tugging at your mouth. “i can’t get distracted. plus, you have practice in, like, a half hour.” “last time it took only ten minutes,” jiyong relaxed his posture, propping himself up with his hands behind him, resting on the bed. “today it might only take five.” “the last thing i need is to be rushed.” you spoke with an air of finality, matching the remaining socks in your basket. jiyong stood on his feet, tip of his nose meeting your temple before his lips did. “i can always be late.” he suggested, tone smooth. “could come up with an excuse.” “and what would that be? drunk on pussy?”

jiyong’s cheeks burned from trying to hide his smile, momentarily turning his head away. “you said it. not me, baby.” he chuckled, putting his hands up in a playful admission of defeat. his arms found your waist, lips pecking the corner of your mouth—beckoning you wordlessly. you obliged, turning your head. he re-connected the kiss, his small breath of satisfaction tickling your cheeks. “y'know how much i love eating it,” he spoke gently. “right?” “you make it known.” “yeah, i do.” his cheeks bunched up with his proud grin, laughter ringing out of him at the sound of your light scoff, nudging his shoulder with your knuckle. his hands reached up, re-orienting his cap to sit backwards on your head. “for, y'know,” he nodded. “historical accuracy.” your expression turned to one of surprise, shocked at yourself: “how did i forget such an important detail?”

it was relatively easy to find the athletic center, having walked by it a handful of times throughout the last near four years. the only issue was finding the tennis courts, which resolved itself after a run-in at the front desk—you being directed to the elevator to head down a couple floors. you took your seat in the stands, the only one there besides a handful of other students and two apparent reporters for the school newspaper, both deep in conversation as the athletes filed out, small notepad and pen in hand. you waved to jiyong, able to see him and seunghyun without issue, protected from the california sun underneath his stanford tennis cap clad on your head. jiyong waved back with a smile, adjusting his sunglasses to sit at the top of his nose bridge. seunghyun adjusted his, too, cleaning his pair with the hem cardinal red polo before getting into position.

your knowledge of tennis teetered into subpar territory, but it didn’t take an expert to know something was off. the pacing was fast considering it was a doubles match—jiyong behind the net, seunghyun at the baseline. both showcased strength, however, it was seunghyun who held more resolve: hitting the ball after it hurled past jiyong, launching it back to their opponents before it even bounced on his side of the court; pacing after jiyong hit the net with the ball enough times to hand pepperdine the first set of the game, walking wordlessly when switching their end of the court; jiyong nearly dropping his racket, but hitting the ball in time to win them the second set—churning a sharp “shit!” from seunghyun’s diaphragm, swinging his racket at nothing after the chair umpire issued a conduct warning for his use of profanity.

three sets later, stanford clutched a comfortable win—but jiyong wasn’t the one to thank. he felt it in his bones, leaving the locker room with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder: she had my hat on, his inner monologue reminded him, probably saw every time i fucked up. he went to you in the stands, quickly wiping the sweat off his face and neck with his microfiber towel, initially greeting you with a chaste kiss. he let his duffel bag fall to the ground, kissing you more properly, hoping it would deter his swirling frustration. to his misfortune, his quick, dependent movements swiftly gave it away. “hi,” he spoke softly, looking at you behind the polarized lens of his sunglasses. “how’d you like it, hm?” “it was interesting,” you chose your words carefully, aware enough to sense the game didn’t unfold ideally. “i wish i knew more about the rules.” “they’re complicated.” he brushed off with a subtle shake of his head—another sign he wanted to move past this. he licked his lips in thought, glancing at the court before returning to you. “you up for a late lunch? my car’s not far. we could go off campus.” “that sounds fine—” “—great.” he took your hand, turning around. “wait—hold on.” your fingers found his wrist. jiyong glanced over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed. “what?” “you don’t wanna talk about this?” you offered. “i mean, i may not know much about the mechanics. but i can listen.”

jiyong turned to face you fully. “i promise m'fine, baby.” he leaned in, aligning his nose beside yours, kissing your lips. you re-connected them, hand coming up to hold his cheek, feeling a small gust of wind float by—a silent plea. jiyong kissed you again, slowly separating your lips, taking a breath. “we good?” “if you are, yeah.” he wasn’t, though. his flubs percolated at the back of his mind on repeat, tainting his sight akin to summertime gnats and deepening the burden in his chest like a poorly grilled hot dog at the cookout. he was quiet at panera bread—a popular bakery-café and frequent off campus meeting spot for fellow students—eating his sandwich, sat across the booth from you, mute. it wasn’t a comfortable silence in which you two organically co-existed. the unresolved tension weighed on you enough to upkeep your pretended interest on the cars driving by outside, keeping you and your sandwich so close to yourself. it would’ve been better if i just came alone, your inner monologue pestered.

sitting in his car prolonged the silence, the only difference now being the white noise of the air conditioning. you looked to your left, seeing jiyong looking out his driver’s seat window—elbow propped against the door, fingers holding his chin; in his own world. you couldn’t take it anymore: “you know,” you began. “you could’ve just told me you weren’t feeling okay.” “i’m fine.” he muttered. “you’re obviously not.” you countered, growing annoyed with the back of his head. “there’s no need to lie, jiyong.” his eyes closed, frustration tugging at his senses. “i don’t wanna talk about this.” “fine,” you huffed. you crossed your arms over your chest, “then the least you could do is drive me home.” you said, looking out of your window at the surrounding panera parking lot. jiyong turned his head, “where does your attitude come from?” he was unabashed, shaking his head in disbelief. “like, am i not allowed to show emotion or something?” “i could ask you the same thing.” you met him where he was at—since he wanted to go there. “this could’ve been resolved if you just talked to me about the game. instead, you just sat there with that—” you gestured to him over the center console, trying to find your words. “with that face on your face.”

“sorry i’m such an eye sore.” jiyong’s tone was riddled with bitter sarcasm. insecurity turned him into a puppet: “i know i’m not the hottest arm candy to have, or whatever.” “what the actual fuck are you talking about right now, jiyong?” you were bewildered, eyes widening at him. you shook your head, “don’t turn this into something else. that’s not what this is about.” a breath left your lips, “look, you’re obviously upset that it didn’t go as well as you—” “—stop.” jiyong cut you off sternly, tight-lipped. “just stop.” he repeated, seeing your offended expression in his periphery. he turned his body, facing you. “one thing you need to know is not everything that comes out of my mouth is some sort of—some sort of big lie trying to trick you. no one is out to get you,” the way he shook his head patronized the fuck out of you—as if his big words couldn’t dare be comprehended in your subordinate head. “if i wanna keep that shit to myself, i’ll keep it to myself. is that okay with you? or do i need permission for that, too? written consent?” “and i’m the one with the attitude?” you raised your eyebrows, fingers pressing against your chest for emphasis. you scoffed in disbelief, “you got me beat, jiyong. i don’t know how we got here. i don’t know what to say.” “then don’t say anything at all.”

oh! “right,” you chuckled with purposeful malice, thinking it was about time you wielded your own arsenal bent on belittlement. “my apologies, big guy. my apologies.” your sarcasm rivaled his, putting your hands up in faux-defeat before letting your palms fall to your thighs. jiyong began to tap his foot, knee periodically bumping into the bottom of the steering wheel. “the least you can do is drive me home.” you repeated, tone unwavering. he didn’t say anything, only staring ahead and out the windshield, fingers tugging at his lips. how fucking overdramatic, your inner monologue grumbled. “i don’t see us moving.” you said aloud. “hello?” jiyong ran his hand over his face, “you don’t understand.” “then make me!” you exclaimed. “you’re not even letting me try! how far do you think you’d get talking to a brick wall?” “i’m not an open book.” “i’m not asking you to be, jiyong.” “yes, you are.”

“no i’m not!—” you cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. it's like pulling teeth—you exhaled through your nostrils: “i’m going to be so for real with you, jiyong.” you said. “if you want this to work, you need to trust me. i’m not asking for you to cut yourself wide open and let me look inside. i’m just asking to know you.” you implored. “i can’t be with you if it's just bracing for impact for the next time you have that look on your face.” what the fuck is his deal?? you couldn’t figure it out for the life of you, “i’m not going to beg you to talk to me. i have better things to do with my time.” it was dead silent in the car. you didn’t feel an iota of regret, nor did you plan on it. you’re a no-nonsense person—it's his problem if he doesn’t know that by now, you thought to yourself. your gaze fell to your lap momentarily, picking a piece of lint off of your denim shorts. your ears perked up at the sound of his sniffle. oh, you beyond appalled, your eyes closing. you have got to be fucking kidding me.

“i’m a nice fucking guy, okay?” jiyong cried. “i don't—i don’t stand in people’s way. i-i don’t bother anyone—” he descended into a blubbering mess, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “and all i want is—is to just feel good. just feel fucking good for once. but its—its so hard. w-what am i doing wrong?” your frustration verged into a nauseous state. i know he did not just 'i’m a nice guy’ me, your stare was lethal—able to topple empires and sever a grown man’s jaw in half with a mere bat of your eyelashes. jiyong didn’t have the nerve to look at you, but definitely felt your eyes, because he cried harder. or it sounded like it, at least: why does it sound almost theatrical—"i’m sorry, baby!“ he wailed. jiyong was suddenly eye-to-eye with you, cheeks wet and bottom lip quivering. "i-i promise i’ll be better. i'll—i’ll figure this out. for you.” he sniffled.

before you could respond, he took your hands in his, pressing kisses into your skin. he reeked of desperation, leaning over the center console, lips molding against your clothed shoulder, descending down your exposed arm. “please don’t leave me.” he murmured shakily, wetness of his tears permeating into your warm skin. he took extra time in kissing the stretch marks adorning your elbow pit, rendering you speechless watching him lean down to your bare knee, doting it with his lips before resting his forehead. “please don’t leave me.” he repeated, “please. i’m b-begging you.” his hands aimlessly palmed at your thighs. it was a horrendously pathetic sight. you couldn’t remember the last time you witnessed such multi-faceted weakness: someone so keen on skirting around the consequences of his actions, yet somehow able to turn himself into the victim, all the while begging for validation. i have to give it to him, your hand found the back of his head, relishing in the vibrations of his satisfied shudders against your supple thigh, fingers combing through his hair, this takes another type of audacity to pull off entirely.

unbeknownst to jiyong, that was his first strike of three. the second came a few days after you returned from thanksgiving break, running into a teammate in the dining hall. it was a relatively short conversation, exchanging pleasantries and brief anecdotes from the holiday before parting—sending each other off with an amicable “see you at tomorrow’s meeting.” but when you returned to your seat across from jiyong, ready to dig into your roast chicken and pasta, he had a different idea: “who’s that?” he asked, cutting into his salmon. “oh, him?” you glanced over your shoulder, seeing your teammate some feet away, standing in line for the freshly-baked cookies. “we do debate together.” you answered casually. you took a bite of your penne, wiping the marinara droplet off the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

jiyong took a bite of his food, “seemed a little into you.” you immediately caught his drift. “based on what metric?” you didn’t hesitate, “delusion?” “my eyesight.” he looked at you, completely serious. tou planted your elbow on the table, using your fork to point at him: “whatever this is,” you gestured a small circle, looking jiyong up and down for emphasis. “shut that bullshit down immediately.” “you’re not my mom.” jiyong muttered, sticking the prongs of his fork back into the salmon, eating another piece with a soured, yet muted expression, cutting a green bean in half. “can’t tell me off like that whenever you feel like it.” “i can if it's nonsensical.” you responded without looking up, cutting your chicken. “eat your food and mind your own.” you said with finality. jiyong knew you were right, but his already impaired ego further decaying put a bitter taste in his mouth. you ate your respective dinners in silence, only speaking when you left the dining hall: you met eyes with your teammate sitting with his friends, offering a polite wave. jiyong saw him return it, taking your other hand tightly in his, leading you out the door: “your irrational way of thinking can make you an eyesore, jiyong.” “you make me this way.”

though jiyong held his boyish charm well, overtime, you learned he was comfortable enough to bite back. or worse, intentionally go against your grain. were you any better? sure . . . but marginally. you left a missed call unreturned here and there, gave him a look reading why would i? after suggesting playing tennis together, and offered a subtly raised eyebrow whenever he so desperately craved praise about anything. he got as high a grade as you on the midterm? he’s thwarting the atomic-level urge to skip his way home after your chaste kiss of congratulations to his cheek. it's rumored that his national ranking may rise by the time you two graduate? your loser boyfriend’s knees are buckling at the sound of your “thats great news, jiyongie,” coupled with that gorgeous fucking smile. he also ate your pussy like he fucking meant it, and you made his tip your bitch—sometimes going out of your way to pamper the slit with your warm tongue, and if he was extra lucky, a swirl around the head, watching the thin line of your spit and his precum connect him to your tongue. if he had the means, you’d have a birkin by now for all the trouble.

he gave it to you good that friday night, spending the last weekend before finals living comfortably between your big thighs. fresh from practice, hair still damp between your fingers from his quick locker room shower before speeding over to your dorm, tongue warm and deep between your puffy lips—this is what you fucking needed. after a week of spending a stupid amount of time in the library, squashing foolish disagreements between your teammates, and just having too much going on in that fucking head of yours—let him do the talking, or lack thereof. your arm relaxed over your eyes, lips parted as jiyong made himself known in the ones below your beautifully round fucking waist, jesus fucking christ . . . his palms dotingly toured your rolls, thumb etching over the tail ends of the stretch marks adorning your stomach; sticking out of your shirt’s hem, before gradually returning his touch to the back of your thigh, hands gently pushing against the back of your knees to keep your legs comfortably spread.

he glanced up, satisfied at the sight of you completely at the helm of his personal love language. i could do this for-fucking-ever, he thought to himself. jiyong latched off for a brief breather, licking his glistening lips, humming in content at your taste. his hands trailed down your thighs, thumbs on either side of your puffy pussy, pulling your lips apart. he spotted the general area of where your clit was, resuming his business. your eyes rolled behind your arm, back arching, your curled toes scratching into his bare waist, turning jiyong into a devout believer in the divine feminine. “o—oh, f-fuck!” your breath hitched. “just like that. o—ooh, f-fuck. . .” you drew out the last syllable behind gritted teeth, jaw falling open as your eyebrows contorted sinfully. the vibrations of his satisfied hum awoke your subconscious, landing him in a headlock. not that he was complaining at all—he moved his head to the left to align with the new angle, good to go. jiyong fucking loved being smothered between those thick fucking thighs of yours—his hearing muffled in and out, squished between your supple skin; body hair tickling his ears; the privilege of squeezing them, feeling the divots of your cellulite between his fingers—he let out a whimper, eyebrows furrowed vulnerably whilst he continued his ministrations like the good boy he is.

jiyong suckled and lapped, feeling his lips minutely tingle every time he popped off your clit. he inhaled deeply through his nostrils when your legs separated, a ghost of a whimper curdling at the back of his throat over your illustrious scent. he sunk his hips further into the duvet, body compensating for his overflowing libido, wishing he could return to your previous position. “thats so good,” your eyes were now visible, but voice barely audible—hardly above a whisper. he ate your shit too fucking good, nearly rendering you speechless. “thats so fucking—ngh! o—oh! good, baby.” “yeah? you deserve it.” he said without hesitation, his casual balance between lapping your hole and talking making you fight the urge to shove his face deeper into your cunt. “so stressed, all pent-up,” he popped off slowly, “the least i can do fucking for do you is be good.” his thumbs separated your lips, solely lapping your clit, churning a sharp gasp out from your diaphragm. “right, baby?” “r—right. right,” you breathed shakily, nodding fervently. your fingers brushed his hair back, trying to maintain some sort of a grip. “just—just k-keeping doing that with your—” “—i know, i know. i will.”

you watched him until you couldn’t, head falling back onto your pillow, eyelids heavy and mouth hung open. you barely mustered communication through weak moans and an oddly positioned waist after an intense wave of pleasure left you with one less iota of logic, gingerly shifted back into place through jiyong’s effortless knowledge of your body. jiyong must’ve really starved you of all common sense with his greedy ass fucking tongue, because of all of sudden, you were thinking of his best friend—what? your eyes shot open, panic brewing in your chest, successfully thwarting it by relishing in who was really between your thighs. jiyong looked good, too—handsome. you grounded yourself to him, raking your fingers through his hair, settling your palm on the back of his head, grinding into his face. “that’s fucking right, baby,” he praised, tongue swiping your puffy lips, his cock begging to be freed from his briefs. his hand found the back of your knee, momentarily raising your leg as he lapped the fuck out of your clit, sucking hard before popping off—sending your eyes to the back of your head. “i’m yours.”

you thought you were safe—trusting in his verbal affirmation to settle back into your pillow, ready to succumb to the pleasures provided by jiyong and only jiyong. you closed your eyes, lips parted once again—feeling that swirling tongue and whiny mouth. it worked for all of two minutes. seunghyun snuck in from your periphery, illuminating your senses with his fragmented appearances thus far in your life. it pissed you the fuck off, considering he hasn’t said a fucking word to me, let alone appear since that day at coho’s, your inner monologue ranted, didn’t say a word—no text, no nothing after the pepperdine match. who the fuck does he think he is? you opened your eyes, determined to re-direct your focus: “you b-better eat it like you mean it, jiyongie.” you pulled out all the stops, teeth raking over your bottom lip, stifling a whimper. “i mean it,” he’s completely lost in you, giving his jaw a momentary break, peppering kisses along your inner thighs, spoiling you. “i fucking mean it, baby.”

please, you begged your brain. we’ve been dating for barely two months. don’t make me do this to him. you let out a long exhale, eyes closed with a hand in jiyong’s hair, pseudo-praying to whatever higher force there was that what was trying to happen wasn’t. but as soon as jiyong’s tongue returned to your divineness, the battle was lost. it didn’t exist to begin with—you were just in denial. your breath turned shallow, mind foggy with flashes from the hotel room: how soft seunghyun’s face felt in your palms, the early autumn humidity making his cheeks stick minutely to your skin that your nails raked against jiyong’s scalp to compensate; how he was so fucking quick to take your lips for himself, coming right back to you without a shred of hesitation after jiyong knocked him off aim—to him being out of breath from running after you to the elevator; a man so tall, with a bravado so traditionally and nauseatingly masculine, falling to the beauty of a woman . . . thats what i like to see . . . you kneaded your breast through your shirt, eyebrows furrowed in your lustful trance.

a delicate moan left your lips, remembering seunghyun’s smirk tugging at his mouth whilst sat across from you at coho. jiyong thought you were still with him, but his delicious lapping of your clit was used in tandem with memories of his best friend’s grunts on the tennis court. “s—!” your eyes nearly fell out of your head, slapping your hand on top of your mouth so harshly it stung. you looked down, seeing your thighs clenched around jiyong’s head—so lost in your own, you hadn’t realized you were practically suffocating him. but with how he nursed your clit relentlessly, bringing you closer to unraveling the building knot in your abdomen, he didn’t seem to mind. in fact, he misheard: “are you close, baby?” his voice was muffled against you. “y-yes—” you avoided saying a name at all fucking costs. “just—just k-keep—oh my god!” your hips involuntarily bucked up with seunghyun’s grunts replaying in your head, chasing your high using his best friend’s face.

your body was overwhelmed, nails digging into your cheeks to shut you the fuck up, eyes glossing over through your efforts. you looked down, eyelids barely able to keep themselves open. only the top of jiyong’s head was visible. in your blurry, hazy line of sight, he looked like seunghyun. there’s a special place for me in hell—"f-fuck!“ a guttural moan rang out of your chest, setting your entire body on fire. you heard your back crack from how high your arch went, hands holding a clueless jiyong steady to your cunt. you don’t think you’ve ever came this fucking hard in your life. you felt depleted of all energy, hips bucking, doing anything to deal with the sheer intensity of your orgasm. you breathed deeply, eyes barely open, senses somewhat awoken when jiyong’s lips found your cheek, feeling his arms wrap around you afterward. you think he said something along the lines of "its okay, baby. i got you,” in an effort to bring you back down to earth—but you couldn’t have cared less. you came so hard your ears were ringing—heartbeat pulsating between your temples in makeshift morse code: three strikes. you’re out, jiyong.

you felt horrible, but none more than confused. jiyong’s blissfully unaware state, sleeping peacefully next to you as his light snores melted into his pillow. you turned onto your side, your back facing jiyong’s, eyes trained on the cast of a nearby street light peppering in through the blinds. am i not over him? the question made you shrivel up. what am i? not a day over sixteen? you ran your hand over your face, trying to ground yourself: what could’ve even led to this? i haven’t thought about seunghyun in what feels like forever, you wondered. you mentally rifled through the possibilities, trying to maintain momentum despite the uncomfortably sensitive feelings erupting in your chest. it was really fucking hard, and at times embarrassing, but you’ve never felt this way before. you would be remised not to get to the bottom of it for your peace of mind.

you traced it back to coho: “he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” you overheard seunghyun rather fleetingly in the moment. but now, it taunted you. what began as a curious itch, wondering what the fuck he meant by that, turned into a catalyst for hyper-critical analysis. what was seen as endearing when you first met jiyong—his overt shyness, sheepish glances, awestruck look in his eyes when you did so much as acknowledge him—now served as the thin veil weakly guarding himself, or better yet, his insecurities. his sweetness and charming smile didn’t feel like a front. he wanted to please in many meanings of the word, and he did—you can attest to that. seeing him after the night at the hotel, however, every step forward tugged further at the veil: the sudden glossiness in his eyes finding out seunghyun had your number the entire time, a well-hidden quiver when asking if you two were just friends, blatantly disregarding you from a significant part of his life for reasons you’ve just realized you still don’t understand, blatantly disrespecting your opinion once things didn’t go an agreeable (or his) way, jealousy permeating his logic enough to rival already resident insecurities, the audacity to unironically call himself a “nice guy,” and the final tug—being so good at eating pussy that his girlfriend thinks of his best friend.

you let out a sigh, okay, that last one's my fault, you pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the bed dip, jiyong adjusting himself in his sleep. but it's all been culminating, you inner monologue reasoned, my wake-up call just happened to be visceral. your warming face sunk into your palms, and really fucking hot. you couldn’t do yourself the disservice of denying it any longer. you reached for your sidekick on your nightside table, clicking your messages, reading the texts seunghyun sent the night you and jiyong went out: Hi this is suenghun; Call me when u can. so hell-bent he didn’t spell his own name correctly, your teeth found your bottom lip, unabashedly staring at your small screen. your thumb circled the trackball, eyeing the Reply button in the bottom right-hand corner. without thinking, you pressed it, sliding up the screen to reveal the tactile keyboard.

it was half past one in the morning, and seunghyun really wanted his day to end. practice was grueling, and having to make a b-line to the library right afterward wasn’t ideal. he filed into his bedroom after brushing his teeth, hearing his text tone go off, retrieving his blackberry from his desk. he sat down in bed, about to toss his phone onto his nightside table, until he saw the name on his screen. seunghyun did a double take, pressing the trackball quicker than he’d like to admit. his hearty chuckle would’ve given him away, anyway: I didnt know your name was spelled like that. your text tone went off, too. and loudly—“shit!” you exclaimed in a whisper, clutching your phone to your chest, hand atop the speaker. jiyong stirred in his sleep, completely unaware. you muted your phone before gradually lifting it. you hadn’t expected seunghyun to respond so quickly considering his track record, but his text didn’t fail in keeping your interest: How do u think its spelled

you grinned. in his slumber, jiyong turned to face you. the sight of his cheek squished against his pillow, hand inches away from yours, brought you back down to earth—realizing what you were doing. this little pocket of temptation dissipated with every press of a key, shoving it away with finality onto your nightside table before dozing off. asshole, seunghyun read. “spot on.” he muttered to himself, amused. he typed his final message of the night, Ji’s got u real bored huh. seunghyun started his morning with a taste of his own medicine: no response. you read his text when you woke up. self-consequential bitterness soured your mouth, until you heard jiyong’s quiet murmurs beside you, followed by his warm skin nurturing yours. you scooted closer, lips dotingly kissing his senses awake.

you decided to start finals week with a semblance of peace, putting those confusing feelings behind you. you had a mixed bag of examinations and projects—booked and busy all five days. jiyong’s workload was just as intense, but ended mid-week. he was flying home early in the morning, keen on spending his last night of the semester with you. he brought you take-out, knocking on your door wednesday evening, following the submission of his last final project and your lengthy rules of war exam. he pulled a chair from the student lounge down the hall to eat with you at your desk, satisfied with how close your arms rubbed together. his kisses were characteristically sweet, hand pulling you to your bed, despite your protests. “cmon, baby,” jiyong pouted from the edge of your bed, bringing your hand to his lips, pressing kisses on your inner wrist. “m'not gonna see you for so long. let me have a taste before i go.” “you do need to go,” you concurred with a nod, bringing your hands to his shoulders. jiyong snuck a kiss onto your palm, “your flight’s at seven. it's nearly ten and you’re still here.”

“i’ll be fine.” he said cooly. his hands found your waist, bringing you closer, standing between his knees. “wanna make you feel good,” he muttered, pressing a kiss onto your clothed stomach, the fabric of your stanford university hoodie matching his crewneck. his lips stretched into a smile, “it’ll be my christmas gift.” “fuck off and go to bed, jiyong.” “but i’m already here?” you kissed your teeth, nudging his shoulder and walking away, until he beckoned you back with a sweet-sounding giggle—catching your hand in his. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding. you know me, baby.” “i do.” you nodded. you walked to your previous spot in front of jiyong, hand slipping out of his, arms resting atop his shoulders. you gave him a sweet kiss, feeling his hands dotingly rub your lower back. “m'not in the mood tonight, jiyongie.” you reconnected the kiss, “got a lot on my mind.” “everything okay?” “m'fine but—” you softly broke the kiss, looking into his eyes. “i guess i’m just not in the headspace.” and no, i’m not alluding to fucking seunghyun, your inner monologue cursed at the pessimist’s voice in your head, i’m talking about the education policy exam i have tomorrow afternoon. fuck him.

“you’re good, baby.” said jiyong. “i’m just happy i got to see you before i left.” “thank you,” you held his face in your palms, kissing his cheek. “and me, too.” you heard him hum in content, molding your lips with his. “i’ll walk you out, hm?” “i’d never turn that down.” you walked hand-in-hand out of your residential building to his car in the front lot, slipping into his embrace. “text me when you’re at the airport,” you felt his arms tighten around your waist, his lips nestled into the supple skin of your neck. “and when you’re home. just wanna make sure all went well.” “you got it.” he felt your hand rest along the side of his neck, silently asking for his eyes. “have a safe flight, okay?” “i will, baby.” jiyong aligned the bridge of his nose next to yours, kissing you tenderly. when he pulled away, there was a particular glimmer you hadn’t seen before in his eyes. an ever-so-small gasp escaped from the back of his throat when he realized that you realized what he wanted to say—almost as if he’d been caught.

“i-i—” jiyong panicked. “i gotta go. it's getting late.” i really need to stop being nice to men, your inner monologue was floored—genuinely. you can be known for your subtlety, but you couldn’t keep your raised eyebrows at bay, “right.” you nodded, amused, watching him open the driver’s seat door. jiyong was quick to get inside—subconsciously trying to scurry from the fiery pit of embarrassment threatening to make him nauseous, stopping short of sitting in his seat. he hovered awkwardly before standing to his feet, looking over at you with an iota of conviction, at the very least. “i’ll see you after break.” “see you, jiyong.” with that, he got in his car, waving to you from the window after backing out of his parking spot. you waved back, eyes on him until he pulled out onto the street. your eyebrows furrowed with a tinge of frustration, shaking your head at his sheer audacity: “what a fucking coward.”

thursday morning was peaceful. no debate meeting until the first week of january, though nationals prep was waiting at your front door step armed with ibuprofen and a voucher for your sanity—but that was future you’s problem. you woke up at half eight, intent on getting some last minute review in before your education policy exam that afternoon. jiyong texted you promptly at six in the morning—At my gate. Boarding soon. I miss you :)—making a mental note to respond after your exam. you took a break at half eleven, stretching your arms over your head at your desk, letting out a long exhale. you got up, opting to open your window to filter fresh air into your room. winters at stanford were a mixed bag—patterns of rain, cool winds, drops in temperature at night—but today, you lucked out with clear skies in the sixties. in your moment of quiet, catching sight of a student and their family in the parking lot, helping them move out—your phone rang.

picking up your sidekick, your eyebrows furrowed at the screen. “what?” you whispered to yourself, confused—it was seunghyun. is this a mistake? or—you pressed the green call button, answering. “hello?” “so your phone does work.” “why’re you calling me?” seunghyun looked to either side of the road, crossing it once the cars cleared. “i just finished at practice and am heading to the library now,” he switched the hand his phone was in, holding the blackberry more comfortably to his right ear. “i wanted some company.” “you can’t spend ten minutes alone?” “nah,” he answered simply. “but looks like you couldn’t either the other night.” “that was a mistake.” you responded with attempted conviction. seunghyun smirked to himself, “sure,” he cooly brushed off, “you didn’t answer my question, though.”

you picked at the hem of your shirt, face warming. “what?” you asked, wanting to buy yourself time, the move useless and irrational. “don’t be like that,” you could hear his shit-eating smile. “what’d i tell you before? lying doesn’t look good on you.” “and like i said,” you gestured to yourself, the conviction in your tone now unthreatened. “i’m not gonna let you swing your dick in my face. why’re you calling me?” “like i said, i’m walking—” “—no, seunghyun.” you cut him off sharply, shaking your head though he couldn’t see. “why’re you calling me?” there was a brief pause. seunghyun turned the corner, walking past tourists taking photos by the stanford oval. “did jiyong bore you?” he was stubborn, like you. it was your turn for a brief pause, contemplating not only what to say but how to say it. jiyong didn’t bore you, per se, but he also wasn’t the reason you came as hard as you did friday night. it was a complicated answer either way. with every passing second, overhearing seunghyun’s sneakers skid against the sidewalk on his end of the line, you were further incriminating yourself. seunghyun didn’t need another boost of his fucking ego, anyway. so you went with your best option: “stop deflecting. its tired.”

seunghyun wasn’t a fool: “look who’s talking.” he chuckled. “you don’t get to talk,” you countered. “want to be all ominous, throw a tantrum at coho’s, and then disappear.” you tsked. “the fuck do you think you are? what do you think this is? who you think i am?” “jiyong doesn’t see this side of you, now does he?” said seunghyun. “what does that matter? who cares what he knows or doesn’t.” you muttered. in the moment, you didn’t realize how that sounded, though seunghyun did. he didn’t jump on it yet, however. not that you gave him the chance to, anyway: “what is your problem? like, seriously. i’ve never met anyone like you before.” “likewise,” seunghyun concurred. he looked up, seeing the library in the near distance. “although i have the suspicion that you don’t mean it as a compliment.” “like the fuck i do!” seunghyun ran his hand over his face, trying to temper his flustered state, hiding his big, sheepish smile behind his palm—he couldn’t get enough of this. not that he’d ever mention it in a million fucking years, but bickering was always the way to go with him.

gentle crackling filed in from either side of the line. you let out a sigh, “why did you call me, seunghyun?” “i wanted to see if you were free tonight for dinner.” your eyes fell closed, completely appalled. “there has got to be something wrong with you.” you heard his laughter, “i’m of perfectly sound mine.” he sat down on one of the benches outside of the library, overlooking the granite fountain. “look, i’m on campus. you’re on campus. it's no big deal.” “how do you know i’m still here?” “jiyong might've—” seunghyun licked his lips, knowing he dug himself into a self-incriminating hole, but it was too late to get out now. “ji might’ve mentioned it the other day in the locker room.” it was like your senses cleared. a knowing smile stretched your lips, nodding your head with an added air of self-indulgent pride: “i see,” your tone was curt. “so you waited for him to be out of the picture. you might be the worst friend in the world.” “maybe.” seunghyun muttered. “definitely.” you corrected him, a frown began to tug at your mouth, a flicker of a furrow irritating your eyebrows.

the both of you teetered onto the line of doing something you shouldn’t. neither you nor seunghyun hung up, though. it was inexplicit. it existed in the numbers logging the duration of your phone call, each higher than the previous. you’re the one who broke the silence. or tried to: “what makes you think i’d want to get dinner?” seunghyun was ready for that from the moment he dialed, “you answered on the first ring.” silence filled the call once again. seunghyun couldn’t see you, but he could feel the hesitation. it stirred in his chest, too, but like you, he still hadn’t hung up. he didn’t intend to, “eating alone is embarrassing.” he said. “it doesn’t have to be.” you countered. seunghyun understood your sentiment differently. whether on purpose or not, you couldn’t tell. “yeah, exactly. it doesn’t have to be. so you should come with. i mean, we’re friends. right? so what’s the harm?” “do friends ghost each other for two months without explanation, and then act like everything’s okay out of fucking nowhere?”

he kissed his teeth, looking down at his sneakers with shame. “that wasn’t one of my best moments.” he muttered. “you’re telling me.” you remarked. seunghyun held his chin with his fingers, biting his inner cheek in thought. “he doesn’t have to know, if that’s what you’re worried about.” “that’s definitely reassuring.” you dead-panned. “i mean—” he let out a breath, trying to collect his thoughts. “what i meant is . . . what is there to know about two friends getting dinner together? just keeping each other company?” you didn’t answer. he felt himself become somewhat desperate, but kept his tone leveled. “c'mon,” he implored smoothly. “my meal credits are low and i’m over the dining hall food, anyway. think of it as a fresh start. an apology for being an asshole. might as well get to know your boyfriend’s best friend, too.” “you are a fucking asshole.” you made sure he knew it, and that it stung. it did considering how quickly he was to cut you off, “yeah, yeah—i know. i fuckin’ know,” he ran his hand over his face, “so what do you—so what do you say, huh?”

you didn’t want to answer, though the pit in your stomach said otherwise. you were astonished at the thoughts running through your head, how seamless your logic felt, plainly taking into consideration what seunghyun offered. there it was again—that tug of curiosity. it took you down a cynical rabbit hole friday night, picking up your phone to text him against your better judgment. only this time, he was on the other side of the line. breathing. waiting. he—this felt more real. although, it didn’t scare you. the brewing temptation was on the verge of becoming all-consuming. you felt selfish, but it felt good. you gradually turned around, purposefully looking at your reflection in the mirror mounted above your dresser. be serious, you thought to yourself carefully. it was a mere ten seconds, but seunghyun felt as if an entire decade surpassed him—or maybe it was the pit in his stomach doing the talking. whilst his foot tapped absentmindedly, you stared into your eyes pensively, posing a question: would i be able to live with myself if i went? your subconscious took charge, providing a rather blunt answer, because suddenly you found yourself not wanting to think about jiyong at all. the reason? well, he doesn’t have to know. because there’s nothing to know . . .

“if i go,” seunghyun’s ears perked up, posture straightening. “you can’t pretend to be all mysterious. you have to be an actual person. and not insufferable.” “i didn’t know friendships came with conditions.” “do you want me to come or not?” “i do.” he said quicker than his prideful self would’ve preferred. “what time should i come get you?” “where are we going?” “applebee’s.” he heard you let out a laugh. his shoulders relaxed at the sound, “what’s so funny?” “nothing,” you shook your head. “it's just for a second there i forgot that we’re college students. i don't—” you shook your head again, trying to wipe the amused smile off your face. “i don’t know what i expected.” “well,” his tone returned to his habitual smoothness. he was almost gentle, “could you think of something better?” “no, actually.” you admitted. “i don’t go off-campus much, so i’m next to clueless.” seunghyun stopped himself from taking a dig at jiyong, “you need to live life more.” “i do.” you attempted to counter. “well, sometimes.” you heard his chuckle, “yeah, i figured. i can’t imagine the type of shit you go through with debate.”

“you have no idea, seunghyun.” a smile tugged at his mouth hearing his name leave your mouth. so casually, so effortlessly. like you’ve known him for years. “i should go. i have an exam in less than two hours.” “you don’t make a good friend.” “excuse me?” “you haven’t asked what i’m doing at the library.” “do i look dense? its obviously for finals.” “you never asked what i study, either. i know your political science from jiyong. friends should know these things about each other.” seunghyun smiled to himself. he heard you huff, “we can talk about this tonight.” “you didn’t tell me what time i should get you, either.” you paused, “stop with this mind game shit,” you heard him laugh. “don’t run me in circles. come at seven. i live in sterling quad.” “you got it.” you heard a different kind of smile in his voice. seunghyun’s face warmed, “i’ll see you tonight. good luck today. not that you need it, y'know.” “you, too.” you said. “in whatever you . . . do.” seunghyun couldn’t help himself, “physics.” he told you. your eyes widened, “damn!” “what?” “you need to stop presenting yourself as such a dumbass.” “yeah—yeah . . . you’re right.”

seunghyun arrived on time. or unbeknownst to you, ten minutes early. if it weren’t for the niceties he had to exchange with his roommate’s family before they left for winter break, seunghyun would’ve been driving aimlessly around the mostly empty parking lot outside of your residential building for a half hour. he tried to not think about the anxious curdling weaving through his ribs, permeating his stomach, traveling up his throat—a mix of excitement with a slight dash of guilt—but not enough to deter himself from calling you at 7:02 pm: “i’m outside. ready when you are.” “okay, i’ll be out in a second. gotta find my—” “—you’re good. see you—” he grinned when you cut the call off. a few moments later, he looked up from the driver’s seat, seeing you walk out of the front entrance. he stepped out of his parked car, waving his hand with an unabashed smile. “it's no land rover,” he gestured to his toyota corolla behind him. a sense of victory flustered his veins at the sound of your chuckle, eyes following you to the passenger’s seat door, “but it works well.”

applebee’s wasn’t far off campus. however, the evening traffic was humbling. just need that last turn two fucking blocks away, seunghyun’s inner monologue said bitterly. he tapped his fingers along the bottom of the steering wheel, glancing to his right, seeing you looking idly at the surrounding cars out your window. his gaze fell, seeing your hands sitting politely in your lap. you held them in the same manner the night at the hotel, only moving once his lips met yours for the first time. seunghyun’s tongue swiped his bottom lip, looking away from you with a sharp inhale through his nostrils. he rested his elbow against his door, fingers running over his face without realizing—a subconscious effort to mimic the feeling of yours against his tan skin—trying to relax his quickening heartbeat. can’t believe she’s the same person from that night, he thought, foot pressing gently on the gas pedal, moving an inch forward, she had me drooling, fucking forgetting my own name. now she’s sitting all quiet, like that shit didn’t happen. what’s her deal? how the fuck did jiyong get her—you unknowingly interrupted his internal rant with a small yawn leaving your lips—the events of your day coupled with brewing hunger catching up to you.

it was odd, how seunghyun’s frustration deflated because of something so natural—something not requiring much thought. his mind went elsewhere: i wonder how long she’s been up, he pondered, eyes glancing at the dashboard, seeing it was half past seven. probably works real hard, too, he sighed in the comfortable silence, some part of him feeling lucky to co-exist with you, especially after how he initially ran amuck. i didn’t even ask her about her exam. is it too late to now? probably, considering we’ve been together for a half hour . . . his gaze returned to you, “sorry about all the traffic.” a nervous grin tugged at a corner of his mouth, playing it cool by patting his hands atop his jeans at a fragmented rhythm. you turned your head, looking at him. “it's all good,” you reassured. “it's not in your control.”

“did your—” his words caught in his throat, looking out the windshield to ground himself—why is it always with her that i can’t fucking speak??—“did your exam go okay?” “yeah, it did. thank you for asking.” a gentle grin adorned your features. “how about you? how did it go studying for . . .” seunghyun filled in the gap for you, “quantum error correction.” you raised an eyebrow, “do i even need to ask what that is?” “nah,” seunghyun chuckled, his eyes kissing at the ends. “i won’t bore you. although, i gotta ask,” you rested your head against your seat, listening. “with your law and justice stuff, are you sure you’re not trying to kick bush out?” you scoffed, “did jiyong tell you about my track?” “yeah,” seunghyun nodded, “he’s mentioned it before.” “i don’t ever want to be president, but if it meant beating bush . . .” you looked out your window, shaking your head in thought. “shit, i’d literally be on the ticket right now, campaigning my ass off.” seunghyun let out a hearty laugh, “you’re right, you’re right.” he concurred. “glad we’re on the same page.”

“why physics then, hm?” you asked after a few moments. “with tennis, it's like you’re trying to be an overachieving asshole.” seunghyun put his hands up in faux-defeat, that same wave of victory from before washing over his skin at the sight of your amused grin in his periphery, “not too much on me, now.” he joked. “but on a real note,” his foot pressed the gas, moving the car forward, inching closer to the necessary exit. “i guess i’ve always liked it.” “just casually?” “well, not really casually.” he tried to find the words. “i guess—i guess my dad kinda showed me. pushed me towards it.” he glanced at you, seeing you nod in acknowledgement. “i guess i lucked out. 'cause i’m here.” he gestured around him with his left hand, referring to stanford. “i see,” you said. “your parents must be really proud of you.”

seunghyun looked at you, a flinch of a furrow tickling his eyebrows. did she say that on purpose? his inner monologue ran a mile a minute, that’s the same thing she said at the hotel. “i mean, yours too.” he said, hoping to jog your memory. “you—you kind of go without saying.” you grinned, your voice soft. “thank you, seunghyun.” unbeknownst to him, seunghyun didn’t need to offer the nudge, because your face warmed in the familiarity of your words. it was a unique feeling: looking at someone whose lips have been on yours, made your skin feel so hot you didn’t think it was physically possible, looked into your eyes with not only a reflection of your desire but mutual want, made you cum without even being there, yet time put a halt in everything. halt? your word choice was curious, eyes staying on seunghyun whilst his returned to the road. your gaze wasn’t heavy, but your thoughts were: if he’d been the one who ran into me after the hotel, or even the first to approach at the mixer after seeing him at coho’s, or maybe he if actually fucking called me, the possibilities hurt you. you looked away, guilt prodding at your pores, mimicking seunghyun’s look out the windshield, who knows where him and i would be right now.

you tried to deter your focus from your stirring chest, “i didn’t think you were capable of being nice.” seunghyun exhaled through his nostrils, “i may be shitty, but i’m not—” “—outright horrible, yeah.” you nodded, finishing his sentence for him. friendly silence filled the car, the only sound being the local radio. seunghyun usually played his cds until they gave out, but those ten minutes driving around the parking lot allotted time for overthinking, leading him to stow his stash away, unsure of what your taste was. but there was only so much he could take of the radio host not knowing how to do his job, or listen to the sixth ad-read in a row. “i hate this.” he muttered, turning the volume nob to the left. you overheard, “it's about time you showed your true character.” you quipped. “huh—” “—i mean, i didn’t think i was that horrible to be around.” “what? no,” he shook his head, a light, slightly confused chuckle leaving his chest. “i meant the music. i can’t stand the radio.”

seunghyun opened the center console, pulling out his cd wallet, handing it to you. “take your pick.” “you mind if i?” you gestured to the dome light. “not at all.” he pressed it for you, illuminating the center console with a warm, slightly-aged yellow hue. it was strong enough to make the words on the cds legible. his catalogue was consistent yet diverse: bill withers, mazzy star, david bowie, biggie, pink floyd, daft punk, usher, and a whole lot of frank sinatra. “your taste is so nuanced,” you carefully took out his copy of mazzy star’s so tonight that i might see, feeding it into the dashboard’s player. “yet you’re so you.” “what does that mean?” he asked, car on the cusp of approaching the exit. “do you need everything explained to you, seunghyun?” you asked, zipping the cd wallet closed. he shrugged his shoulders, “it's only a question.” you caught his eyes for a brief, swift moment. “i like it when you’re normal.”

and that’s what seunghyun was during dinner: normal. talking about anything and everything whilst sat across from you in your shared booth—normal. it made you wonder where the fuck this person was when you initially met, or the week following the hotel room, or even these past two months. the night’s events thus far played like an age-old cautionary tale—you on subtle alert for any signs of him planning to play you like a fiddle. perhaps seunghyun already has, considering he convinced you to come out to applebee’s with him at all, but the apparent loss of his guard tickled your curiosity. it's gonna become a drug if i’m not careful enough, you thought to yourself, taking a bite of your fajita rollup whilst he went on about a movie you mentioned earlier. you weren’t completely relaxed, but your posture wasn’t entirely erect, either. as the evening went on, fight or flight mode faded from your periphery: your elbows relaxed on the table, seunghyun’s back against the wall, his foot propped comfortably atop the cushioned benched-seat. maybe he really meant it when he said he wanted to start anew, you wondered, overhearing him order a brownie sundae to share for dessert, or maybe i’m the most gullible woman in the world. not that i want to leave, though . . .

you split the brownie, scooping a portion of it with the vanilla ice cream it came with. “so you wanna go pro, or?” you asked, eating your bite. a smirk tugged at seunghyun’s lips, “i mean—” it took him a moment to answer, chewing through the gooey chocolate. “it would kind of be a waste of time if i didn’t, right?” he looked up at you, expecting you to agree. you didn’t: “no.” you responded earnestly, shaking your head. “not if you don’t want it to be. you’ll have a degree soon enough. for better or for worse, your only talent won’t be hitting a ball with a racket.” “that’s true.” seunghyun nodded, pushing the plate closer to you. “i don’t think my parents would ever forgive me if i didn’t, though.” “i won’t tell you to disregard that worry,” your spoon sunk into the brownie and ice cream, “because that’s not a luxury people like us can afford. and with that mean serve you have, i wouldn’t wanna waste it, either.” you said, hearing him chuckle. “i know it isn’t easy—trust me, i do. it wasn’t my decision to become the designated family role model that my baby cousins’ll be compared to for the rest of their lives.” you looked up, seeing seunghyun already looking at you. you suddenly deflected, “or maybe i’m just rambling.”

he reassured you immediately. “you’re not.” you pushed the plate back his way, but his eyes didn’t leave you. “it’s not rambling if you’re telling the truth.” you didn’t say anything, stirring the melted ice in your cup with the plastic straw you drank out of all evening. seunghyun finished the last bite of the sundae, a question pestering the back of his mind. it didn’t take long to reach his lips: “do you talk to jiyong about these kind of things?” he muttered, keeping his gaze down at the plate before him, stirring the leftover chocolate drizzle. you put your cup down, senses tingling over the possibilities as where this might go, but halting any brash conclusions before they escaped your subconscious. “do all roads have to lead back to him?” you kept your tone light, a polite grin molding your lips. seunghyun saw you in his periphery, but kept his head down. it might’ve been shame or cowardice—he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “he’s not—” he licked his lips, finding the words. “he’s not built for things like this.” he saw your face drop. not to one of worry, but one of cold-hearted, targeted disappointment—regret. he felt like a child tattled on; a friend ousted—his pride betraying him in real time.

“why did you ask me to come to dinner with you, seunghyun?” you didn’t spare a glance at the waiter dropping the check off, but your hand shoved the leather folder seunghyun’s way. he kept it cool, opening the folder, eyes skimming the receipt. “i told you,” a characteristic grin coated his face. to you, it was a threat—a dumb one, running your patience thin. “i don’t like eating alone. and i wanted us start fresh—” “no.” you cut him off with a tut, crossing your arms over your chest. “i already told you. don’t do that tired shit around me.” a chill ran down his spine, masking it with the swift pulling of his wallet from the pocket of his jeans, fishing his debit card out. he shrugged his shoulders, “i’m just surprised you’re still together, is all.” you shook your head, “don’t do that, either.” you told him.

he looked up, but not towards you, kissing his teeth quietly. “what is it, hm?” you purposefully pestered, voice-levelled. “is he seeing another girl? i can’t read your fucking mind.” “what? no!” he was genuinely amused, eyes returning to yours. “jiyong? doing that?” he thought aloud, scoffing, clearly entertained by the prospect. “if that happened, thats how i know the world’s gonna end the next day. he doesn’t ever shut the fuck up about you.” irritation fluttered between your eyebrows, but your expression was condescending, knotting seunghyun’s eyebrows together in mounting annoyance. “so that’s what this is.” you nodded to yourself knowingly. you met his eyes, unyielding. “you want to weave your way in and out of my life as you please because you’re upset he got to me before you did.” your fingers stirred your straw. “this is a really complicated way of saying you like me, seunghyun. took you only two months, yet it's somehow more pitiful than those who take it to the grave.” he didn’t look offended. just hurt. wounded, even. you looked away after a moment, eyes trained on your nails. “we could’ve been somewhere really different if you had just called.”

seunghyun didn’t like hearing the truth. his lips tightened, heart pounding with each passing moment. would’ve been better if she was the one who got away instead of what i tossed away, his inner monologue reminded him bitterly, i don’t even know why the fuck i do that. “he doesn’t love you, you know.” he tried to play fire with fire, but you were unrelenting. undeterred—“what makes you think i want someone to be in love with me?” you asked. the question weighed heavily, pressing enough on seunghyun’s chest to prolong his sudden silence. “did i say i was in love with him?” “you didn’t.” he murmured. “so why would i give a fuck if he loved me or not?” to a passerby—like the group of friends being seated a couple booths down—your voice was nothing to be bothered about, blending into the background. your waiter, however, who heard the details of your contentious conversation, strategically scurried off after picking up the bill, processing seunghyun’s payment.

“i guess you wouldn’t.” seunghyun responded. “cool.” you said bluntly. he returned your energy, “cool.” your shared stubborn silence persisted after the waiter returned the leather wallet, now equipped with a receipt to sign, exiting with a quiet “whenever you guys are ready.” after a pregnant moment, seunghyun adjusted his posture, taking the pen, signing the restaurant’s copy of the bill. he slipped his debit card back into his wallet, fleetingly glancing at you, making out a thought stirring in that head of yours. she makes things so fucking complicated, his thoughts grumbled, but i can’t get away. i feel like i’ll die if i do. you kept your gaze on your cup’s rim. you weren’t sure why your subconscious decided to make an enemy out of your logic. your mouth opened before you could stop yourself: “he looked at me like he was in love with me.” your voice barely surpassed the volume of gorillaz on the sound system, but your tone came across so unexpectedly vulnerable. seunghyun heard you loud and clear. he caught on that jiyong didn’t say it—what’d i tell her? motherfucker doesn’t know shit about what to do. barely built for anything real.

you’re good at hiding it, but over time, seunghyun’s become more comfortable with looking into a mirror. if it's you, that is. he sees hurt etched onto your face, though something tells him its deeper than that. no tears, he mentally noted, i know it’d take way more than immaturity to bring her there. seunghyun’s ears perked up when you cleared your throat, effectively bringing yourself back down to earth. he’s getting under my skin, your internal monologue whirred. i need to get out of here before i do something i’ll regret. in this long beat, seunghyun showed himself once again to be someone who was always just one step ahead. not a master at chess, but acquainted with its moving parts. he saw something in you that you couldn’t see yourself, or more aptly, didn’t want to. though you actively used every atom in your body to deny it, you saw yourself in him. could it be the knowing look in either of your eyes—a flicker of your reflection in his irises if you looked long enough? or the unspoken cunning alignment of how you see the world around you? or does he just fucking get it? it not only being you—but what you understand your purpose to be, and him his? a purpose of worth—of understanding? describing it as mere attraction or being with someone on your intellectual level wasn’t enough—it was a complete and utter match, down to the bone. to the atomic makeup. to unspoken words. it was strong enough to scare either of you, but his words prevailed through the heaviness of that beat: “who wouldn’t be?” you looked up, thinking you’d see his shit-eating grin. he was dead serious, his eyes completely sincere.

the ride home was silent. neither you nor seunghyun spoke a word, letting his mazzy star cd fill the air. he pulled into the same parking spot outside of your residential building, putting his car in park. “thank you for dinner.” you said, taking your seatbelt off. “no problem.” he muttered, looking over at you. “s'my treat.” the nicety flowed smoothly, but he was entirely unsure, unable to make out what this lingering tension meant. you provided an answer, though he didn’t like it: “seunghyun?” “hm?” “you can’t ever call me again.” his expression fell into softened worry, eyebrows furrowing sympathetically. “wh—what?” he subtly shook his head, confused. “why?” you looked into his eyes, hurt tainted by shame ruminating in your chest, voice quieter than before: “you know why.” was all you could muster, tone a pitiful attempt at conviction. seunghyun clenched his jaw, trying to salvage the last scraps of his ego, but his eyes looked wounded. his gaze shifted around the windshield, though yours stayed on him. perhaps it was your subconscious attempting to capture this—the last, definitive moment of possibility before the door closed for good.

not if seunghyun had something to say about it, though. or more aptly put, that flicker in his eyes. he turned his head to look at you, leaning over the center console, body effectively closer to yours. you turned your head to face the windshield, effectively away from him. “don’t make me say it.” your voice barely conjured above a whisper, begging as the strength left you expeditiously. the feeling of his body heat zeroing into yours made your eyes flutter closed—the tip of his nose briskly nudging against your temple, your lips parting. his lips ghosted over your skin, traveling down your cheek, not a hint of a kiss in sight, but enough to activate the last few iotas of sense in your brain, keeping your breathing steadied. “m'not gonna tell you what to do.” his voice was low, breath hot against your ear. “you’re smart enough to make your own decisions.” your shoulders relaxed, a shallow breath escaping between your teeth. seunghyun’s lips brushed against your earlobe, “but i will be at the birthdays,” you inhaled deeply through your nostrils, heartbeat quickening. “i’ll smile in your wedding photos,” the smallest, most delicate moan escaped your diaphragm. your hand found seunghyun’s hair, his stifled grunt vibrating against your skin, the flutter of his eyelashes tickling your ear as he tried so fucking desperately to keep himself together. “i’ll k-keep eye contact from across the table at christmas dinner,” your breathy gasps weren’t helping him, “i’ll get you the most expensive gift at your baby shower,” he undid his seatbelt, feeling you so beautifully nudge your nose against his cheek—needing that proximity. he happily gave it to you, pressing a kiss onto the supple skin of your cheek before making his closing argument: “what’re you going to tell him when the baby grows up and looks like me?”

“oh my g-god.” your voice quivered, lips inching dangerously close to his. how you breathed each other in—so unabashedly, so vividly—outdid the sin of adultery; it was in its own league. “what am i supposed to say to my wife when i can’t get it up for her? hm?” he murmured, open mouth hovering above yours. “when the only time i can stomach fucking her is when i’m thinking about you? thinking about the night at the hotel when i was in college, kissing my best friend’s wife like it was the last thing i’ll ever fucking do? hm? tell me, baby. what should i say to her?” his voice was unbelievably gentle, almost tender. he spoke as if you would disappear the millisecond his lips halted their muted ministrations on your skin— as if an improperly pronounced syllable would curse him for eternity. but no punishment was worse than being cast aside as a mere bystander, to jiyong nonetheless. not when seunghyun knew he was the one for you—the one who knew so much in such little time, the one who couldn’t stomach being near you because he felt suffocated in his infatuation turning into deep-seated longing, the only one who could see the look in your eyes. a secret language only you two could speak; colors only you two could see.

“oh my god—” you repeated, your defeated whimper breathing him back to life. you gradually opened your eyes. the look on his face—eyelids heavy, lips parted, eyebrows knitted together pathetically—made your thighs squish together firmer than before. you lifted your hand, fingers brushing past his chin. “i—” your mouth fell, watching him take your thumb between his lips. your teeth found your bottom lip, feeling his warm tongue swirl the pad. you felt something throb between your thighs. you slowly pulled it out, tracing his bottom lip with his saliva. seunghyun pressed a kiss to your palm before leaning in closer. you nearly—nearly closed the gap, until it all felt too real. “stop.” you begged yourself. “s-stop,” you shook your head, tip of your nose brushing against his. “we can't—we can’t do this.” you let go of him. seunghyun remained where he was, his shoulders deflating in defeat, gaze lowering shamefully to his hands.

you looked out the passenger’s seat window, but your body didn’t move an additional centimeter. no thought of unlocking and pulling the door handle open—just sitting in silence. seunghyun didn’t have the strength to ask why. he already knew. the answer was a flight away, settling into bed after unpacking his carry-on, happy to be home for the holidays. your expression soured, disgusting by how deeply internal this conflict became. how could i have let it get this far? how could i have let it get this messy? your mind went a million miles per hour yet concurrently in slow motion. it all felt so useless: you didn’t regret going to dinner with seunghyun, yet although you knew where it could potentially lead, you’re upset you let it get to that point, though you knew full well you were setting yourself up to betray someone you care about—and you wanted to. when did i become so contradictory? you kissed your teeth, shaking your head. i spend so much of my time unpacking other people’s logic. when the fuck did mine become so corrupted?

you huffed, frustration irritating your chest. “you’ve been his best friend for so long, his first memory is probably with you.” seunghyun didn’t look up. you turned your head, expression hardened in his direction. “how could you do this to him?” his head shot up, offended. there’s no fucking way she’s going to get away with this, his inner monologue scrambled. “you’re his girlfriend.” he said without an iota of hesitation, tone doused in conviction. “how could you do this to him?” you scoffed, “don’t act like that’s the same thing. you know each other better than anyone else ever will.” seunghyun was quick to counter, shaking his head. “its on the same fucking playing field.” “no it’s fucking not.” “yes it is.” “no it’s not.” “yes it is.” “no it’s—” “—yes it—” “fine!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “fine! then it is! are you fucking happy now?” you eyed him sharply. you leaned closer, finger poking his chest. “we got the both of us here, seunghyun.” you told him the bare truth. his mouth twitched in and out of a scowl. “any suggestions on what we do now? since you never shut the fuck up?”

you stared at each other, the silence of lifetimes past filling his car. “yeah, that’s what i fucking thought.” you bickered with the air of a decades-old marriage, brushing him off without a second thought. seunghyun was so irritated, he started smiling. “you wanna know something really funny?” he didn’t flinch at your unamused “what?”—eyes meeting yours with matching strength. “jiyong reminds me every fucking chance he gets that he saw you first,” said seunghyun. “but one of these days, i’m gonna remind him you saw me first. because he loves to just conveniently leave that part out.” “you two never grew past the age of seven.” you tsked, shaking your head dismissively. “i don’t know how i got involved with such—” “—who do you pick then, huh?” he cut you off. you gave him a look, “do you only ever hear yourself speak?” you tapped your temple mockingly. “or do you have any room for others?” seunghyun didn’t back down, “who do you pick?” “you know i can’t answer that.” “no, i don’t. because i know it’s me.” “you don’t know that—” “—then why are you still in my car! you could’ve left as soon as i parked!” he exclaimed.

“but you wouldn’t want that, now would you?” you countered. “would’ve fucking defleated—” you stumbled messily on your words. a frustrated exhale left your mouth, finger pointing out the windshield, though in your mind it was a memory. “would’ve looked more like a lost fucking puppy than you did at the elevator, huh?” you pinched the bridge of your nose, momentarily caught off guard by how fiercely your heart beat— feeling it in your throat. “how could i get sucked in like this?” you told yourself off. seunghyun shot a sideways glance your way, brutally annoyed. “i didn’t know who you two were three months ago.” “didn’t take you long to fuck him, though.” seunghyun muttered bitterly. your stomach dropped. “what?” something in your voice made his stomach drop, too. “i never fucked jiyong.” you shook your head, each subtle stretch of your muscle more menacing than before. “what makes you think that?” anger festered between your eyebrows, cinching them together in a way that made seunghyun’s temples perspire. “and what makes you think you can talk to me like that?”

seunghyun shook his head with vigor, denying your rightful allegations like a cowardly motherfucker, existential fear flooding his veins as his life flashed before his eyes. i’m gonna beat jiyong’s ass, he mentally noted. “he—he told me.” he couldn’t bear to look at you, nervous system riddled with shame, his mouth suddenly unable to produce saliva. “well, he—he didn’t explicitly tell me. it's just—it's a thing we do in tennis.” “what the fuck are you talking about right now, seunghyun?” “just—just—” his words clogged his throat. he was a broken record, “he just told me.” “lied.” you corrected, seeing him nod diligently—almost obediently. “he fucking lied to your dumbass.” “he did.” seunghyun concurred without hesitation, still without the gall to look at you. “he did lie to my dumbass.” he repeated. “all of you are the same.” you said. “not one shred—one shred of common sense amongst however many million of you.” you tapped your temple with your pointer finger. “and you’re the ones declaring endless wars, but are so easily duped and bamboozled by cucks comparing dick sizes? and i'm—i’m the one that’s inept? because i fucking bleed once a month? something i didn’t ask for?” you gestured to yourself for emphasis, eyebrows raised. “and god forbid—god forbid!” you exclaimed, putting your hands up dramatically. “god forbid i want my pussy fucking ate instead of—” your brain ran faster than your mouth, but you caught up after a moment. “instead of sucking a dick that smells so rank it could knock the elderly out with the briefs still on—then i become the villain.” you shook your head, “you can’t even tell the difference between fact and fiction, motherfucker.”

seunghyun nearly broke out into prayer. he really needed a cigarette right now. what got him was how you hardly stuttered, coupled with the absence of filler words—you were serious. he can’t imagine what your opponent feels like during a heated debate. “no wonder the nuclear family is dying.” you continued, “we don’t want to populate the world just to raise dumbasses like you. can you fucking blame us?” seunghyun knew to respond: “nope. i can’t.” he didn’t receive your praise for having the correct answer. not that he expected it, nor deserved it. “always talking about how much of a ‘nice guy’ he is. how about you be someone decent instead.” you muttered to yourself, tsking at the thought of jiyong. “all of this just because he chatted me up at a college mixer. i need to stop being so generous with my time.” you noticed how quiet seunghyun was. you weren’t going to let him go easily, “and what if i did have sex with him, hm? not that i did.” you clarified for the nth time, shaking your head condescendingly. you reached across the center console, nudging seunghyun’s forehead with the pad of your pointer finger, “in case it hasn’t processed up here.” you added. when he opened his mouth, you didn’t give him the chance: “is this all because i dated him before you? are you really that immature?”

seunghyun suddenly found the gall, working against an invisible timer: “its—its not!” he blurted out. his hesitation wasn’t to stall his telling of his truth, but his attempt to find the words to spell it out. he wasn’t very successful, “this . . . is different.” he muttered awkwardly. he gradually looked at you, seeing hints of annoyance and frustration decadent in the furrow of your eyebrows—the subtle shake of your head, trying to figure him out like an unsolvable riddle. you looked so beautiful, even when you were irate with him. “it's not—” he took a breath, determined to not succumb to whatever effect you have on him. he looked at you again, unwavering: “look, it's not a crime to want someone. or something.” “but this is different!” you threw his words back at him. you pointed down to the center console, a gesture meant to reference him and yourself. “this is unlike me. i’m a good—i’m a good fucking person.” the conviction in your voice disappeared in the face of the realization that you didn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. not anymore, at least. “i don't—i don’t . . .” you shook your head, hoping it would clear the deepening fog in your brain—pinpoint you in the logical direction. but it only worsened. a wave of panic washed over you, unable to recognize yourself. you looked at seunghyun, defeated: “i don’t do shit like this. i . . . i mind my own.”

something in seunghyun’s bones told him this was his last chance. that door was actively closing, the creaks of hinges taunting his eardrums. he leaned closer, taking in your features. “i need you to look me in the eyes,” he spoke, “and tell me that it's not me.” a breath parted your lips, looking away from him, pitifully shaking your head. “seunghyun . . .” “then i’ll never bring it up again.” his throat was heavy, maneuvering his head to keep his eyes on you, as if you were fading away from view. “i’ll never bring it up again. i swear.” he repeated truthfully, voice ending with a tremble. he didn’t have the strength to hide it anymore. “you can have the picket fence and shit.” he waved at nothing in front of him, gesturing to the possible future. “live a cookie-cutter life peacefully. maybe he’ll win a couple grand slams and you’ll start a nonprofit under your surname. but i’ll sign your marriage certificate as your witness if you tell me to.” your sinuses weighed on your face. there it was, that tug. “i’ll shut up myself the fuck up if you tell me to. all you have to do is look in my eyes and say the words.”

his heartbeat fastened, eyes looking around him frantically. “look, i—” he licked his lips, grounding himself. “i don’t know what it is about you. actually, i do,” he corrected himself. “i fell for you so hard it's like i discovered a sixth sense. it scared the shit out of me, and i know you feel it too.” you didn’t say anything, only listened. “it blinded me, but it also pissed me the fuck off. because i realized that i’m so prideful that i don’t prevent someone as good as you from slipping through my fingers. not that i deserve you, no,” he shook his head in affirmation to himself. “but it was all so confusing. i’ve never—i’ve never felt this way before. this strongly. so i went up to you at coho's—leading with that frustration,” he tsked at himself, ashamed. “only to find out it was all based on a lie. a stupid one, too. that jiyong ran me amuck for whatever reasons he has. i can’t blame him. i may be a dumbass, but i’m not stupid. there’s things that’re unaddressed between us—parts of how we work. but he’ll never have the balls to say it out loud. and it’s landed us here.” seunghyun took a breath. “and just when i thought it was over, that this was the worst i’ve ever fucked up,” he turned his head, seeing your side profile, chin down. “you texted me. you answered the phone on the first fucking ring.” he watched you close your eyes. “that’s when i realized you and i aren’t so different after all.”

you tilted your head back onto your seat, wanting to disappear. “you’re killing me.” “i’m telling you the whole truth and nothing but.” seunghyun leaned closer, the tip of his nose barely grazing your cheek. “all you have to do is tell me.” his voice fell to a whisper, feeling his body become boneless. it was like you sucked the life out of him, but concurrently nourished his soul. you were his poison. he planned on picking you every time, even if it meant compromising his closest friendship. “look into my eyes and tell me.” you opened your eyes, turning your head to face him. “seunghyun—” “tell me.” if you blinked, you would’ve missed the sight of his bottom lip quivering. he remained strong, maintaining eye contact, blinking harder than before: “tell me and you can walk out of this car. we’ll forget this ever happened.” he said. “so i can finally stop torturing myself with the thought of you,” your lips parted, hand coming up to hold his face without thinking. rationale didn’t exist for seunghyun anymore, either. nothing stopped his kissing your palm, “your name will haunt my daydreams, but not as much as my hand stifling it in my bedroom. i’ll learn to live with it. i promise.” he sounded perishable. “just tell me,” he begged, feeling weaker with every syllable. “and i’ll take it to the grave.”

you watched him kiss down to the inner part of your wrist, resting his lips against your skin. your other hand found his hair, but your touch didn’t invite him in. instead, it served as a buffer leading into the question he knew he’d be faced with at some point, yet his posture deflated at the mere utterance: “why didn’t you call me, seunghyun?” you weren’t mad nor disappointed. like seunghyun, whatever was in the air sucked the energy out of you—making you just as desperate as him. it was poetic, how beautiful you sounded. how intimate your tone was, speaking to seunghyun like he was the only person in the entire universe. like your words were only for him to hear, despite already being alone in his car. he murmured into your wrist, “i’m so in love with you i don’t remember what it feels like to have common sense.” his breath shuddered at the feeling of your fingers combing his hair back. afraid to lift his head to look at you, he leaned into your touch, hiding his face. his words warmed your veins, trickling into your heart, obliterating what you thought you knew about love. there’s only so much a college senior could know. but as you sat there, watching your man so unequivocally devoted to you that he can’t bear the courage to look at you, you had all the answers you needed. you ushered seunghyun to you, feeling him melt into your chest.

you held each other: his arms making residence around your waist, breathing tempered against your hoodie. your shared unspoken language filled the gaps—manifesting in his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your nails gently raking against his scalp, you deep in thought, feeling his chest rise and fall with yours. “he’s not someone i can respect.” you confessed. seunghyun knew who you were talking about. “i should’ve left him after the pepperdine match.” you tutted at yourself. “is it because he nearly lost it for us?” seunghyun asked meekly. “no,” you answered. “it's because his insecurity clogged his logic. you should’ve seen the tantrum he threw in the car. you’re cut from the same cloth.” “we can be different.” “barely.” you held seunghyun closer, feeling his arms wrap more snuggly around you. your fingers roamed his hair, feeling the vibrations of his content hum against you. “you wanna know something?” you spoke by his ear. “mm?” he murmured. “at some point, i was so sick of it, i used his face to cum to the thought of you.”

his breath hitched. “it was the same night i texted you.” “oh my god.” he groaned into your hoodie, hands pawing at your waist. he felt something throb between his thighs, jeans feeling increasingly uncomfortable. “look at me.” you said. he listened, lifting his head from your chest. your palms molded around his jaw, pressing firmly to keep him in your grasp. seunghyun’s eyelids didn’t look heavy, but they held weight. if you listened carefully, you caught his shallow breaths—lips parted, eyes glancing at your mouth unabashedly. your teeth raked against your bottom lip, having to separate your thighs to alleviate some of the conjuring heat. “love me so bad you don’t know how to spell your name, hm?” you felt and heard him shudder, watching him measly attempt at getting himself together. “i forget it if i’m with you long enough.” he answered breathily. he leaned in, but you didn’t give him what you wanted just yet—letting his open mouth hover greedily above yours. a defeated gasp filled his lungs, “please.” he whimpered, forehead finding yours, eyebrows furrowed upward. “i don’t recognize myself. i’m going crazy 'cause of you, baby.” his nose grazed your cheek. you tipped your head back slightly, feeling his lips ghost over your neck. he inhaled your scent, encouraged by your hands on the back of his head. “the part that gets me is that i like it,” he said, pressing a light kiss. he heard your small gasp, kissing again, “oh my god—i fucking need it.”

“you got what you wanted—f-fuck—” he whimpered at your faltering voice, an added air of desperation intertwined in his gentle ministrations. “you got what you wanted.” you repeated, eyes rolling to the back of your head, feeling his lips find your soft jawline, cascading your double chin. “you’re under m-my skin. ruining every thought i’ve ever had.” you let your back fall against the door. seunghyun fought the urge to climb over the center console. “you were—” you swallowed, throat dry. your mind felt fuzzy, somehow grasping your words, “you were right when you said jiyong has no idea what he’s doing.” seunghyun grunted in response, completely lost in you. “do you? hm? i’m so tired of being wrong, seunghyun. i’ve been waiting too long—” “—get the fuck over here.” he grabbed your face with either of his hands, bringing his lips to yours.

neither of you breathed. time stood still. you remembered where you were when his lips caught yours again. once you regained consciousness, back in your own body, goosebumps mostly subsided—everything was on the table. deep exhales cascaded either of your faces, a moan escaping your mouth into his, fingers rifling through his hair until your palm settled on the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as the realization of what you were doing sunk in. what it meant was beside you. oh—but how good it felt? nothing could have prepared seunghyun for the sound rattling out of your throat next. it was guttural, but divine. it came from the soul. how does he know? because he made it right back: his fingers pawed at your hoodie, subconsciously needing to melt into you; to be one with you until the end of time—kissing you like he was the woman. you held him to you with an arm around the back of his shoulders, other hand holding his cheek, silently encouraging him to tilt his head to the left. he listened without hesitation. seunghyun ignored how the gear stick actively dug into his waist, exhaling heavily through his nostrils when your tongue met his. his breath hitched, shuddering vulnerably against you feeling your hand reach underneath the hem of his jacket and shirt, rubbing his lower back tenderly. he kissed you with more fervor than before—i need to get on my knees, his thoughts were scrambled. i need to get on my—

“i need you.” you told him, vibrations of your voice against his mouth making his mind all mushy. “i need you, seunghyun.” you repeated breathily—the heat between your thighs unbearable. “f-fuck—n-need—” he couldn’t stop kissing you, body feeling boneless. “n-need—i need you, too. wanna make you feel good.” he winced when his crotch brushed past his side of the center console. he was painfully hard—afraid of what it’ll look like once he took his pants off. “go in the back.” he said. “i-i’ll meet you there.” his awkward word choice wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. he was too focused on maintaining his balance once his feet hit the asphalt—“s-shit"—keeping a hand on the car, opening the door for you. "lay down. get—get comfortable f'me.” you heard him say whilst you climbed in. you laid on your back as comfortably as you could, careful not to bump your head on the closed door behind you.

his palms traced your thick thighs, the denim tickling his fingers. “can i take these off? yeah?” “mhm,” you watched his fingers unbutton your jeans, lifting your hips as he tugged them off your legs. your underwear followed, both tossed onto the car floor. he fell to his knees at the sight of your puffy pussy. his palms made residence on your bare inner thighs, lovingly kneading their plushness between his fingers—his teeth not sparing his bottom lip. he sunk the tip of his nose into the softest part of your thigh, pressing a purposeful kiss. his nostrils caught the scent of your divineness—it took every singular ounce of common sense in his body not to immediately falter to it. he couldn’t open his eyes, trusting his senses to lead him to where he knows he belongs. “been waiting for this for far too long.” his breath was hot against you. your hand muffled your mouth, eyes rolling in the intoxicating anticipation. his thumbs separated your lips, his warm tongue making itself known. “o-oh my god!” you gasped. your breathing stilled, hearing the lewd sound of his tongue lapping your hole. with every swipe, he came closer to your clit. and he knew it: “oh,” his voice was low. “you taste real fucking good. holy shit.” seunghyun palmed himself through his jeans, whimpering into your pussy. “f-fuck!—” “—ha—a!” you cried out. your hand grabbed onto the shoulder of the driver’s seat, trying not to fall over, nails digging into the synthetic leather.

seunghyun stopped. he licked his lips, not satisfied in the slightest. “show me where your clit is, baby,” he said. “don’t wanna waste your time.” you held onto the driver’s seat firmly, other hand grabbing one of the headrests in the backseat, gradually pulling yourself up. “wanna watch.” you breathed. your back laid against the door behind you, foot propped on the center console, your other ankle resting comfortably atop the backseat. the new view dizzied seunghyun, his mouth watering at the sight of your cellulite recoiling in the midst of you adjusting your posture to your needs. “i’ve been waiting for this, too. f-fuck . . . ” he watched the tip of your middle finger disappear between your puffy lips, slowly inching towards the top. he knew you found his homeland when your shoulders relaxed, licking his lips whilst yours parted, entering a state of bliss. your lids were heavy, opening your eyes as best you could, feeling his nose find what’s becoming his favorite part of your inner thigh, lips pressing a slow kiss on the soft pouch. he heard your frail whimper as your finger continued rubbing in circles, relishing in the sound of how wet you became right by his ear.

“you play with it real good.” he said, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. “yeah? f-fuck—” “—yeah, you do. you play with it real fucking good.” he praised. he grinded his hips into the seat, feeling light-headed. “c'mere.” he got to work—you froze. your eyes glossed over, toes curling around nothing. it was a sight meant to be engraved on an ancient marble vase, capturing the rawest form of pleasure, harbored in a museum for eternity—historians marvel at its teachings, whilst female spectators walk away with a bitter air of “must be nice.” “o—oh my god, h-holy shit—” you mewled, mouth unable to close. you looked down, fingers combing his hair back, seeing his tongue nurse your clit in real time. “k-keep going.” your voice couldn’t surpass a whisper. “keep s—sucking just like that.” you thought you knew what you were asking for with how jiyong does it, but seunghyun actually sucked on your clit, your hips bucked up unexpectedly. “o—oh f-fuck!” you yelped, breathing heavily.

seunghyun latched back on, palms kneading the sides of your big thighs, using them to maintain his grip on you. he sucked more firmly before popping off. his mouth felt a slight chill every time he separated from your clit, his lips glistening. “you deserve this twenty-four fucking seven.” he murmured, slowing his pace. the vibrations of his satisfied hum made your eyebrows furrow so deep they turned upward, bottom lip caught between your teeth. “need to make this shit my full-time job—goddamn.” he flattened his tongue, moaning when you shoved his face deeper into your cunt. “then act like it,” you told him. a long exhale left your nostrils, feeling and hearing him whimper, “e-eat it like you mean it, seunghyun.” oh, did he listen. your eyes rolled back, head snapping up when the knot in your abdomen made itself known. “th—that’s so f-fucking good. . .” you watched him worship your pussy, drawing your syllables out. “o-oh my god, b-baby—m'close.” you gasped, unable to look away when his tongue lapped you faster. “y-yes! y—yes, yes—f-fuck! s-seunghyun—o—oh!” you cried out unabashedly. your eyes closed, head tipping back. don’t need to imagine him when he’s finally here, your inner monologue reminded you, bringing you over the edge. “d-dont—don’t stop! don’t stop! o—oh, f-fuck—!” you panted erratically, ascending into your high. back arching off the door. your chest heaved in tandem with guttural moans ringing from your diaphragm, giving seunghyun everything he’s dreamt about.

your temples pounded, senses clearing when his lips found your soft jawline. “still with me?” he asked gently. “mhm,” you hummed weakly, slowly turning your head towards him, his lips pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “just give me a second.” you heard him hum in understanding. his lips hovered the supple skin of your cheeks, planting them wherever he saw fit, patiently kissing you back to life. you inhaled deeply through your nostrils, hands traveling up his jacket on the exhale, fingers tugging at the zipper. your hand slipped underneath his shirt, riding up his chest—your touch was sensual, yes, but none more than tender; grounding. a silent plea for proximity, earned with a trusting kiss to your lips. seunghyun moved to your neck, placing slow yet purposefully kisses into your skin, savoring the moment. “how was i, hm?” your voice was soft, breathing leveled. “everything you hoped for?” you chuckled, seunghyun feeling your cheek bunch up against his temple whilst you grinned. “you’re not a person.” his voice was muffled against you. “you’re god herself.” you chuckled again—the sweet sound making his heart stutter: “oh, really?” you smiled, flustered. “then god’s asking if you have a condom.”

“i do—” seunghyun sat up quickly, forgetting his upper half was in his car, bumping his head against the ceiling. “shit!” he cursed under his breath. “slow down.” you giggled, even more beautiful when amused. “m'not going anywhere, y'know.” “i think i have some in here.” he carefully stepped out of the car, opening the passenger’s seat door. pulling his glove compartment open, he rifled through, but to no avail. “c'mon . . ” he tutted to himself, kissing his teeth. he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, spotting the familiar silver wrapper, “oh thank fucking god.” he muttered in relief. “now that just makes you a whore.” you couldn’t hide your smile, failing to stifle your laughter. your eyes lingered on seunghyun as he undid his belt, unbuttoning his jeans before pulling them and his briefs down far enough to free his cock. oh . . . you liked what you saw . . . your leg slipped from the top of the backseat, thighs pressing together without thinking. seunghyun sucked in a sharp breath, thumb collecting his building precum, slicking his cock with it. “i’m a whore for being prepared?” he asked, fingers carefully unwrapping the condom, gradually slipping it on. a grin tugged at your lips, eyes staying on him as he climbed back into the car. his hand wrapped around your right ankle, gently lifting your leg, returning it to its previous position atop the backseat. you scooted down to lay on your back, welcoming him to you, hands on either side of his face, “you’re a whore for having it with your dollar bills.” you playfully tutted, feeling him laugh into the kiss.

he positioned his tip between your soft, puffy lips. his nose nudged yours sweetly, silently beckoning your mouth to his. you obliged without hesitation. this kiss was romantic—soft, sensual. “you better tell me if something’s wrong.” he muttered, voice low. “i will,” you reassured, gently reconnecting the kiss, “i will.” seunghyun slowly pushed his tip in, stomach dropping hearing you wince. “e-everything okay?” his voice quivered, back of his mind percolating with sudden realization. “yeah.” you nodded truthfully, “need to adjust. just go slow.” “i will, baby. i will.” seunghyun leaned down, kissing your cheek dotingly. his lips stayed there, however, because he started to panic. because the more he pushed his cock in—slowly—the more enveloped he was by your tight, gummy walls; the more he was blessed with your divine warmth—and the more he felt closer.

your cute, small gasps weren’t helping. universe save him whenever he overheard your delicate whisper of his name, summoning him like a prayer. he stretched you out gorgeously, giving you something you didn’t know you needed, but it made all the more sense that he was the one who did it for you. “a—any better?” his voice quivered, trying to remain steady. “yeah,” you said breathily, nodding. “jus’ go slow.” you licked your lips, mind fuzzy, “i’ll tell you when to go fast.” i’m not gonna make it, his inner monologue panicked. but seunghyun listened, gradually pulling out, only leaving his tip in. his heavy panting tipped you off, seeing his glossy eyes. “you’re not all here with me, baby.” your caring, doting tone dripped off his ears like honey, making his head spin. oh god— “take a breath for me, seunghyun—” “—f-fuck!”

he had that supreme-court-just-gave-florida-to-bush look on his face. you kept your laughter in, thankfully. “that's—that’s never happened to me before.” seunghyun’s words slurred slightly, pulling out, seeing the now ruined condom. “i think you need to reckon with the fact that you have a really big crush on me.” you chuckled, hiding your face behind your hands. you heard his sneakers skid against the pavement of the parking lot, his hand reaching underneath to take off the condom, tossing it onto the asphalt. “it’ll take a second to wake it back up.” “think you need some help?” “y-yeah. if you don’t mind.” “c'mere, pretty boy.” you called him over softly. he didn’t need to be told twice, “i’ll show you something, hm?” your lips found one another’s like two souls reuniting after centuries apart. there was no rush. you kissed him slowly and deeply, gifting him your tongue when his breathing didn’t sound shallow anymore. sighs of content escaped his nostrils, washing over your cheeks, cascading goosebumps down your spine. your hand reached down, stroking his cock as best you could in your current position. seunghyun received it well, kissing you harder—but not faster—making you moan beautifully against his mouth.

your lips parted from his, the sound of his slick reaching either of your ears. “this is what jiyong and i were doing the night you finally called me.” seunghyun gasped—“a—agh!” he moaned, eyebrows furrowing tightly. “he wasn’t lucky enough to eat my pussy.” your tone was smooth, satisfied with hearing his abrupt, fragmented breaths beside your ear. “well, not yet, anyway. but you already know how that turned out.” you giggled. seunghyun let out his most vulnerable moan yet, face hidden in your hoodie. “you’re nearly there, but not quite. might need a little more.” you spoke sincerely, hand halting your ministrations, “can you stand up for me?” “out—” his voice quivered, “outside of the car?” “outside of the car, baby.” you affirmed. you sat up when he rested his hands on the car, scooting down the backseat, closer to him. a small smirk tugged at the corners of your mouth, amused by the sight of his semi-hard cock. your soft palms traced his toned stomach underneath his shirt, hearing him quickly suck in a breath.

one hand cascaded down, your fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. “didn’t even know i have one that good.” you murmured to yourself, bringing his tip to your lips, running your tongue over his slit. “fuck,” he cursed sharply, nails digging into the roof of his car. he watched your tongue swirl around his tip, eyebrows raising like he’d been caught when you looked up at him, only for his knees to buckle once you started taking him into your mouth—all the while not breaking eye contact. you gradually took half of him into your mouth. not that he was fucking complaining, holy shit—he’s too busy trying not to clear his blurring vision. you were riling him the fuck up—“f-feels so fucking good—ngh!” seunghyun whimpered. he gasped, the vibrations of your chuckle whilst he was still in your fucking mouth catching him horrendously off guard, wincing sinfully. you sucked him off how you wanted to—not wanting to stress your jaw, work your neck, stress your cheeks or anything, really. there didn’t seem to be any issue, however, considering how putty he was after barely a touch. you pumped his tip, sound of his slick so fucking lewd, yet how unbothered you looked by it made seunghyun ready to become a father then and there. he was at your mercy—your complete helm. i could get used to this . . .

“you’re basically there.” “whhaa—” his words slurred, trying to regain his composure. “do you want a little more?” “y-yes.” he stuttered, nodding quickly. “your mouth. p-please—y-yes!” he sounded fragile, deep voice cracking vulnerably. you hollowed your cheeks around him, sucking just enough to make him forget to breathe. seunghyun was unequivocally enraptured by you. sure, he might’ve had some semblance of an idea of what this night might—just might be like . . . but this? man . . . he meant it when he said he would take his feelings to the grave if that was what you wanted. he meant every fucking word he said, actually. and to know—though his intuition never lies, and after tonight, he knows yours doesn’t either—that he is yours as much as you are his . . . take that to the fucking bank, motherfucker, his inner monologue rambled, breathing shallow. he was hard as fuck yet again in spite of his earlier flub. he watched you take him into your mouth however you so pleased, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your tongue swirling around his tip—head falling back when your cheeks hollowed around him graciously. his jeans fell to his ankles, hand covering his mouth, eyes almost crossing—and to know her bare pussy’s just rubbing against the seat—

without thinking, he pushed his hips forward. you didn’t hesitate, taking him out of your mouth: “absolutely not.” “wh—what?” he was momentarily confused, soon realizing. “did i say you could?” you tutted, squeezing your fingers firmly around the base of his cock. “n-no! you—y-you didn’t!” he shook his head, eyebrows furrowing. “m'sorr—m'sorry, baby. f-fuck—holy f-fuck, i’m sorry.” his breathing deepened, whimpering. you felt his dick throb in your hand, “i'm—i-i’m hard again. let me make it up to you. let me fuck you—fuck you good. i promise—” he rambled, but you cut him off. a chill ran down his spine. he swore his dick twitched, “you better have another condom, seunghyun.” “i-i do.” he nodded, pulling his jeans up enough to retrieve his wallet, taking another silver wrapper out. he put the condom on, hovering over you a few moments later. “i’m sorry—” “—just fuck me, seunghyun.” you held his face, fingers falling to the collar of his shirt, tugging aimlessly whilst you felt him position himself, “fuck me so i forget how much you hurt me.” his face fell to one of hurt, beautifully melting into one of inexplicable pleasure, mimicking yours as he filled you up. he wasted absolutely no time—giving you what you deserve.

you mewled with every thrust, descending into guttural moans every time his balls plopped against the bottom of your ass. “f-fuck, yes!” you gasped. “oh, f-fuck—baby—” you bit your bottom lip, seeing his dick disappear and reappear in real time—stretching you out delectably. your thick thighs recoild with every movement, hugging his waist the best you could in your position. “your dick feels so fucking good.” you whimpered, tugging at his shirt. “just like that, just like that—hngh!” you inhaled sharply, feeling him hit all the areas you needed most. seunghyun was a babbling, incoherent mess: “i l-love it when you tell me what to do.” he panted. “i love it—f-fuck! holy fuck!—” you clenched around him, halting his thrusts temporarily. “f—fuck, baby—” he drew out his syllables pathetically, moving his hips slowly, gradually fucking you again. your hand reached aimlessly behind you, pads of your fingers turning white against the window for any sort of possible grip, your body jolting forward with every thrust. “i love it when you p-put me in my place, baby.” he buried his face into your neck, the sound of your moans intoxicating his self-control. “i want—mmph!—i want my place to b-be you.”

your puffy lips were having a field day, rammed repeatedly by his toned pelvis. “you’re so good at fucking me, you know that?” you breathed heavily. “i don’t think—mmf! hngh! oh, fuck! y-yeah—oh, yes! like that!” your eyes rolled back, hearing how creamy the condom sounded, pounded deliciously. “i don’t think i could get used to this from anybody else.” you told him, mouth falling from how fragile his moan that followed sounded. “so you better get up in there,” your voice quivered. “'cause no one’s gonna be able to fuck me like you do.” seunghyun went faster, earning the most beautiful moan out of you. “y-yes!” you squeaked, legs feeling like jelly. “like t-that m-my love, like that!” “y-you’re gonna be the death of me, baby.” he whimpered, drawing out his syllables, panting like a motherfucker. “i don’t know who i was b-before i met you. i’m gonna—gonna spend the rest of my f-fucking life m-making it up to you. you hear me—o-oh, fuck—” he steadily halted his pace, thrusting hard, catching his breath. “i’m so s-sorry for not calling. i’m so sorry for hurting you,” he sounded on the brink of tears, lips seeking refuge on your temple. “i don’t know what i was thinking—” “just fuck me like it never happened, okay?” your chest heaved, feeling the knot tug at your abdomen, begging for release. “you already know me so well so quick, seunghyun.”

either of your whorish moans battled it out for the top spot, feeling him pummel your pussy mercilessly. “are you—are you close, seunghyunnie?” oh my fucking god, his inner monologue panicked. “y-yes—” “—yeah? m'close too.” you bit your bottom lip, thighs about to give out in your lustful haze.“you know how i like it!” you cried aloud, gummy walls clenching around him, feeling that familiar euphoric wave take over your entire body. “you know just how i l-like it, seunghyunnie!” he gasped, watching your back arch, your face succumbing to the ethereal force of the orgasm he had the privilege of giving you. watching you cum made him cum—“i’ll keep going, baby! i’ll k-keep—f-fuck!” the condom warmed inside of you, chock-full of what you do to him. seunghyun’s stomach caved inward, moans nearly choking his throat, gasping for air whilst goosebumps erupted underneath his sleeves. you were in your own realm—hand having fallen to the floor, temples pounding viciously. it didn’t take long for seunghyun to find you—as he always did—returning his head to your chest, eyelids heavy as your fingers found his sweaty hair. he rested in your divineness, seeking refuge in a way that's tender—familiar, now. you held onto him, afraid he’d slip away; perish. on the floor of the passenger’s seat, your phone vibrated: Hi baby :) Hope ur exam went ok, jiyong texted. he stared at his next message on his screen, sending it five minutes later, just as seunghyun pulled out of you: I love you.

honey's taglist ☕️: @gongyoosgf @infinetlyforgotten @riddlerloveb0t @mesopotamism @pepsicolapussi @breakmeoff @thanosspills @moontabi @tabibabib @lexalith @lavenderobsessed @heartubeatusalon

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