Archive of Our Own

Yu Jimin.

The bane of Minjeong’s existence.

The study room on the second floor of the library was mostly quiet except for the hushed murmurs between Sana and Yizhou. The group were preparing for an assignment due in a few days, notes and open laptops sprawled across the table in front of them. Sana was finalising the structure of their presentation with Yizhou nodding along every so often and adding in small amendments.

Minjeong really should have been paying attention.

Her gaze had long since drifted to the window overlooking the cafeteria below. More precisely, it had locked onto one particular table near the center of the hall.

Jimin sat there with Jihyo and Aeri, her oversized hoodie swallowing her frame, sleeves pushed up unevenly. Those ridiculous round glasses, thick black frames that somehow made her look both nerdy and perpetually surprised, kept slipping down her nose. She was talking animatedly, hands moving in wide, clumsy arcs as she tried to make some point.

Clearly whatever it was seemed to be interesting enough as Jihyo was laughing, leaning forward and Aeri had her chin propped on her hand, watching with fond amusement.

Minjeong’s jaw tightened.

Whatever. 

Jimin’s voice obviously didn’t carry through the glass, but Minjeong could practically hear the excited rise and fall of it anyway. She watched Jimin reach for her water bottle, still mid sentence, still gesturing with her free hand, and she managed to miss completely.

Minjeong watched it play out almost in slow motion, the bottle getting flicked off the table by Jimin’s arms and landing squarely onto Jimin’s lap.

Water splashed across the front of her hoodie and sweatpants, darkening the fabric in a wide, embarrassing patch. Jimin froze for half a second, eyes wide behind her glasses, before letting out what was undoubtedly a mortified squeak. Jihyo immediately burst into louder laughter, handing her napkins while Aeri reached over to help her pat herself down.

Jimin’s face flushed bright red as she frantically dabbed at herself, mumbling apologies to her friends. She tried to stand, and nearly knocked over her chair in the process, then sat back down just as quickly when she realised the wet spot was even more obvious when she moved.

God, what a loser.

Minjeong’s lips pressed into a thin line, stifling the laugh that wanted to escape her, but her eyes didn’t leave the scene below. She watched Jimin laugh it off, a little nervous and a little self deprecating, shoulders hunched as she let herself get pulled into a side hug by Jihyo, watched the way Jimin pushed her glasses up with the back of her wrist, only for them to slide down again almost immediately.

Minjeong would have honestly found it endearing if it was anyone else.

But this wasn’t anyone else.

It was Yu fucking Jimin.

It all started two years ago, when Minjeong first walked into the debate club room in the student union building. She’d been confident, borderline arrogant actually if she was being honest. Debate had been her domain in high school. Regional championships, best speaker awards, the works, and surely university would be no different. She’d signed up on a whim during club week, expecting to breeze through and maybe even take captain by junior year if she was lucky.

The room had been almost full on that first day, with chairs arranged into a few neat rows, and a whiteboard covered in leftover notes from whatever meeting had just taken place. Minjeong had taken a seat near the front, one leg crossed over the other and ready to impress.

Then the door opened again, and in shuffled Jimin.

She looked like she’d ended up in the wrong room and was too embarrassed to admit it, sporting a jacket that was far too big on her, the sleeves dangling well past her fingertips, and baggy cargo pants that pooled around her sneakers. Her hair was pulled back into a slightly messy ponytail and she wore the same big round glasses that just magnified her wide, uncertain eyes as she scanned the room. 

She clutched a worn out notebook to her chest, nearly tripping over air on her way to the back row, and muttering a quiet ‘sorry’ to no one in particular when she bumped the table.

Minjeong remembered wondering who let her in here.

The first practice debate would be held during their next meeting and pairings were random.

Minjeong drew Jimin, and god, it was supposed to be easy, it really was.

Minjeong had come prepared for gods sake, her arguments were ironclad. Jimin on the other hand slightly stammered through her opening, her voice starting out soft, fingers fidgeting with each other.

Minjeong had smiled then. She could almost taste victory.

And then she lost.

Not by a landslide and not embarrassingly but it was decisive enough to make her eye twitch. The judges, upperclassmen running practice, praised Jimin’s ‘unexpected depth’ and ‘creative framing’, whatever that meant. 

Minjeong sat there, stunned, as Jimin offered a shy, apologetic smile across the table like she hadn’t just dismantled every argument Minjeong had spent time preparing.

Minjeong told herself it was a fluke, that it wouldn’t happen again.

She was so wrong.

Minjeong had outdone everyone in the club, had won almost every debate she’d been up for. The keyword being almost.

Everyone except Jimin.

In two years, Minjeong had racked up win after win, trophies on her shelf, respect from the club, invitations to regionals. She was poised, articulate, and ruthless when she needed to be. Everyone knew Kim Minjeong was the one to beat.

But whenever she faced Yu Jimin, that clumsy, perpetually disheveled girl who could barely walk across a room without having an incident, Minjeong lost.

Every. Single. Time.

She’d replayed the rounds in her head a hundred times. Jimin wasn’t louder than her, she wasn’t faster, she didn’t even have better sources or flashier delivery. But somehow, Jimin always found the one flaw in Minjeong’s logic, the one assumption she hadn’t questioned, the one angle she hadn’t covered. And she did it in a way where it sounded like she was apologising for winning.

The worst part was that it truly seemed like debate was just a fun hobby for Jimin. She never took it further than the club, never competed, didn’t have any awards to show for it.

It drove Minjeong fucking insane.

She was smart. She was prepared. She was better.

There was no way she wasn’t better.

So why couldn’t she ever beat Jimin?

Minjeong didn’t realise how long she’d been staring until Sana nudged her foot under the table.

“Earth to Minjeong,” Sana lightly nudged her, "You good?”

Minjeong blinked, tearing her gaze away from the window like she’d been caught doing something embarrassing. The study room swam back into focus, the half finished outline for their presentation waiting for her input.

“Yeah. Sorry,” Minjeong said, too quickly. 

She leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes skimming the page without actually absorbing anything.

“We were thinking we could split the last section between you and Sana. You wanna take the counter argument?” Yizhou cleared her throat softly. 

“Mm, I’m good with whatever.” Minjeong replied, nodding. 

She picked up her pen and wrote a few words, then crossed them out immediately. It was just stupid. Jimin wasn’t even here and yet she’d somehow managed to derail Minjeong’s focus.

God… stupid nerd.

The few weeks before the semester ended always had a weird energy to them. The club room buzzed louder than usual, the members excitedly talking about the year end competition that always took place in the final week before school let out for the summer. The room was in the middle of being done up, flyers and posters taped haphazardly onto the walls as well as a podium with a mic that wasn’t hooked up yet.

Minjeong stood up in the front with a cluster of acquaintances she had made, listening to one of them recap something about a TA in one of their lectures. She wasn’t really listening to be fair but her attention was completely snatched away when she heard the door creak open a few minutes before the session officially started, looking up right as Jimin shuffled in.

As usual, she was bundled in clothes that were far too big for her, with her backpack slung off of just one shoulder. She scanned the room in that same uncertain way that she always did, then made her way to an empty chair somewhere in the middle row, her sneakers squeaking slightly against the floor.

She sat down slowly, placing her backpack in front of her and leaning down to tighten her shoe lace.

The motion was innocent enough, but gravity was not on Jimin’s side. Her glasses slid straight off her face and clattered lightly against the floor. For a split second she just froze, blinking at her shoe which was now suddenly blurry.

Minjeong choked on her own laugh.

She managed to disguise it with a sharp cough, bringing her hand up to her mouth, shoulders rising once before she forced them still. Jimin, oblivious, felt around the floor until she found her glasses and quickly put them back on.

The next few minutes went without incident, which in Minjeong’s opinion was rare, until the club captains clapped for attention. A few upperclassmen took the floor, running through logistics for the final debate competition of the semester, reading off reminders of time slots and dress code. They’d even introduced the guest judges, two professors that were from the Communications and Literature departments respectively, something about ensuring that the competition was kept fair. 

Minjeong had heard it all before.

She listened with half an ear, nodding when appropriate, until the topic assignments began.

Pairs were drawn randomly and proposition and opposition were allocated with the flip of a coin.

When her name was called alongside Jimin’s, something tight and electric curled in Minjeong’s chest.

She could make out the amusement on the captains faces, her losing streak against Jimin wasn’t exactly a secret, but Minjeong kept her expression smooth. Inside thought, she felt a sharp flare of anticipatory satisfaction, especially when the topic was announced.

It was one she’d debated before at a regional competition. Not identical, but close enough that she could already feel the structure of her argument slotting neatly into place.

Perfect.

She glanced over her shoulder toward Jimin, who had just finished pushing her glasses back into place for what had to be the tenth time since sitting down. Jimin caught her eye and startled slightly, offering a small, sheepish smile before quickly looking back at the front.

Minjeong turned forward again, lips curving despite herself.

This time, she told herself, it would be different.

This time, she was ready.

In fact, she was so inexplicably pleased with how everything had lined up that by the time she met up with Sana and Yizhou later that afternoon, her grin was still stubbornly glued to her face.

They’d claimed their usual corner table in the campus cafe, the one near the wall outlet that always worked if you jiggled the plug just right. Minjeong dropped her bag beside her chair and sat down with an energy that didn’t quite match the end of semester fatigue hovering over the rest of the room.

Sana narrowed her eyes almost immediately. 

“Okay,” She began, her tone already accusatory, “What is that?”

“What is what?” Minjeong asked, reaching for her straw.

“That,” Yizhou added, tilting her head, "Your face.”

Minjeong paused, then realised she was still smiling. She tried to smooth it away, failed, and finally just gave up with a small huff.

“I got paired with Jimin again for the final competition," She said, unable to keep the satisfaction out of her voice, "And the topic is basically a repeat of one I already won last year.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” Sana let out a long, weary sigh. 

“It is a good thing,” Minjeong said brightly, nodding to further accentuate how pleased she was, "This is it. I finally have the upper hand.”

“You’ve said that before.” Sana groaned, already knowing how this was going to go. 

“And yet,” Minjeong shot back, “this time it’s actually true.”

“This one’s different,” Minjeong insisted, "I already know where the weak points are.”

“You also knew the weak points the last five times.” Yizhou hummed.

Minjeong shot her a look. Sana, meanwhile, just shook her head, lips quirking despite herself. 

“You know,” She said, “Jimin is actually really sweet.”

“Of course you’d think that. She’s your girlfriend’s best friend.” Minjeong scoffed immediately. 

“That doesn’t make it untrue.” Sana replied flatly, "She’s always nice to you when we all hang out too.”

“I think you’re just salty because she always beats you.” Yizhou rested her chin in her hand. 

“I am not salty,” Minjeong muttered, which was exactly what someone who was salty would say, "She’s just… a weird nerd.”

“You know, technically,” Yizhou began, “You like a lot more stereotypically nerdy things than Jimin does.”

“That is not- that’s not the point.” Minjeong stared at her. 

“You’re literally a math major," Yizhou continued thoughtfully, "And you always sign up for those stupid mathlete things.”

“Okay well, at least you wouldn’t be able to tell what I like from a single glance at me. I don’t walk around advertising it with- with- with oversized hoodies and dumb bag charms.” Minjeong bristled. 

“You literally have an ‘i love numbers’ pin on your bag right now.” Yizhou said.

Minjeong glanced down instinctively, then scowled when she realised Yizhou was right. 

“Whatever. That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is.”

They fell into a familiar rhythm after that, bickering over semantics with Minjeong insisting there was a very real distinction between being ‘enjoying academia’ and being a ‘nerd’ and Yizhou simply egging her on. Sana tried to interject once or twice before eventually giving up and sinking into her chair, groaning.

“I cannot wait for this stupid competition to be over.” She muttered, running a hand over her face.

The following week arrived faster than Minjeong expected but you know what they say about time flying by when you’re having fun. She’d spent days buried in articles, scholarly analyses, archived case studies, anything even remotely adjacent to the topic, refining her speech until every part felt nothing short of perfect. There was no room left for error, no loose assumptions, no clever little angles left unexplored.

She was going to win.

The club space hummed with low conversation as teams waited their turn, judges whispering amongst themselves behind the long table at the front. Minjeong sat straight in her chair, fingers laced neatly over her notes, gaze unfocused as she ran through her opening statement for what felt like the hundredth time.

Then their names were called.

A jolt went through her, sharp and electric, snapping her cleanly out of her thoughts. She stood smoothly, heels clicking against the floor as she made her way to the podium. She didn’t look at Jimin, she didn’t need to, not today.

The first sentence came out steady and confident, a tone she’d cultivated over years of competing. The room seemed to fall away as she moved through her points, each argument stacking neatly on the last, every emphasis landing exactly where it should. She saw the judges nodding along, pens already moving across their scoring sheets. When she finished, she allowed herself a single, silent moment of satisfaction as she returned to her seat.

Near perfect, she thought. Maybe even flawless.

Only then did she finally glance sideways.

Jimin rose from her chair with the same quiet awkwardness she always carried, nearly bumping her knee against the podium before steadying herself. Her dress shirt was just a little too big, her collar slightly askew as if she’d fussed with it one too many times. She pushed her glasses back up her, hesitated, then finally leaned towards the mic.

Minjeong leaned back, crossing her legs.

Good luck finding a hole, nerd, try not to trip.

Jimin adjusted the microphone with hands that trembled almost imperceptibly, glanced down at her notes, then up at the judges. She took a breath that Minjeong could see from where she was sat.

There was no way she could match what Minjeong had just delivered, no way she could unravel something that airtight. Minjeong folded her hands together in her lap, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

This was it, this was her moment.

Finally.

And then Jimin began to speak and, almost immediately, Minjeong felt the familiar, infuriating twitch in her eye.

There was one fatal thing that Minjeong had overlooked about Jimin. Yes she may have thought that Jimin was a loser but at the end of the day, Jimin was also a nerd, and her baggy clothes and clumsy attire didn’t negate that fact.

It started subtly, a single reframed assumption here, a gentle ‘however’ there, but within seconds Minjeong could hear it happening. Jimin wasn’t louder or flashier than Minjeong, and her delivery was honestly on par with everyone else's, if not just a tad more nervous, her fingers curling nervously around the edges of the podium.

And yet.

She’d found something. Again.

Minjeong watched in disbelief as Jimin unravelled one of her central points, exposing a gap Minjeong hadn’t even considered somehow. It was like watching someone politely remove the floor from beneath you.

Minjeong’s jaw tightened, her pulse thudding in her ears.

No. 

No.

It wasn’t over yet. The judges still had to decide. This was a topic she’d already dominated in an official competition, with tougher opponents and harsher scrutiny. There was no way this, this, was enough to beat her.

She stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Jimin as the girl wrapped up her rebuttal, voice softening at the end as she thanked the panel like she hadn’t just dismantled everything Minjeong had spent the past week perfecting. Applause scattered through the room as Jimin hurried back to her seat, cheeks pink, hands immediately folding into her lap like she was trying to disappear.

The judges leaned toward one another, murmuring behind their papers.

Minjeong clasped her hands together so tightly her fingers began to ache. She didn’t loosen them, welcoming the pain, as if it might anchor her to the moment, helping keep the panic from boiling over.

This was ridiculous. It was impossible. She was better than this, she just had to be.

After what felt like far too long, the head judge looked up.

“For this round,” She said, clearing her throat, “The win goes to Jimin.”

The room blurred.

It was as if the floor had vanished, leaving Minjeong suspended in a hollow, weightless silence. She registered the scattered claps, the small ripple of surprised murmurs, but none of it seemed to reach her properly. All she could feel was the sudden, searing heat in her chest, anger flaring so sharply it almost stole her breath.

Again.

She had done it again.

Minjeong barely existed for the rest of the competition.

She sat when she was supposed to sit, stood when the others stood, clapped when the room filled with applause, but it all felt distant, muffled behind the shrill ringing in her ears. Words blurred together, arguments passed over her like static. Someone said her name at one point and she nodded automatically, not registering why.

By the time the final scores were read out and the crowd began to thin, her jaw ached from how hard she’d been clenching it.

She stood slowly, carefully, as if any sudden movement might shatter the fragile control she had left. Her bag felt too light in her hand and her limbs oddly hollow. All she wanted was to get out, to find a quiet stairwell or a bathroom or literally anywhere that wasn’t this room.

She turned toward the exit, planning to leave before anyone came up to her.

And then she saw Jimin.

She was a few rows back, half hidden behind a taller member, struggling to shove loose papers into her bag. She dropped one, crouched to pick it up, and then dropped her phone in the process. It was exactly the kind of harmless, clumsy moment Minjeong had seen a hundred times before.

But it caused something inside her to snap anyway.

Her heels cut a sharp path through the thinning crowd, the soft buzz of conversation dissolving behind her as she reached Jimin in a handful of strides. Before Jimin could even look up properly, Minjeong had seized her wrist.

“Come with me.” She said, low and strained.

“M- Minjeong-?” Jimin startled, eyes going wide behind her glasses. 

Minjeong didn’t let her finish. She turned on her heel and tugged, causing Jimin to stumble after her, bag slipping off her shoulder, papers rustling in disarray.

“Minjeong, wait- What are you-”

They were already out of the main room, down the short hallway lined with storage closets and empty seminar rooms. Minjeong pushed open the first door she reached and dragged Jimin inside, letting it swing shut behind them with a dull, final thud.

The space was small and dim, a cramped breakout room with a single table pushed to the wall and chairs stacked haphazardly in the corner. Minjeong backed Jimin into the far side of the room without quite realising she was doing it, until Jimin’s shoulders brushed the whiteboard and she had nowhere left to retreat.

Minjeong’s restraint finally reached it’s limit.

“What is your problem?” She demanded, the words tumbling out sharp and breathless, "Seriously, how do you keep doing this? I prepare for days and you just waltz in there and tear everything apart like it’s nothing. Do you even know how ridiculous that is?”

“I- I don’t-” Jimin stared at her, eyes wide, shoulders pressed to the whiteboard. 

“Don’t?” Minjeong snapped, cutting her off, "Don’t what? Don’t notice? I’ve watched you trip over air more times than I can count Jimin. Air! And then somehow you manage to make me look like an amateur in front of the entire club.”

Her hands were moving frantically as she spoke, punctuating every sentence, irritation spilling out in clipped gestures. 

“Do you have some secret strategy? Some trick you’re not telling anyone about? This cannot just be dumb luck at this point. You don’t even compete for god's sake!”

“I’m- I’m not trying to- I really don’t mean to-” Jimin shook her head quickly. 

“But you do!” Minjeong said, voice rising despite herself, "You always do!”

She paced once across the narrow room, then back again. Jimin followed her with her eyes, cheeks steadily growing warmer in colour, her posture shrinking inward with every word Minjeong hurled her way.

“I don’t get how you can stand there looking like- like you and still somehow win,” Minjeong went on, still gesturing wildly, “It makes no sense. None. And you don’t even realise what you’re doing.”

She stopped short in front of Jimin again, breathing harder now. For a moment she just glared, waiting for something, an argument, an explanation, anything.

Jimin didn’t offer anything in response. Not verbally at least.

It was subtle, barely more than a twitch of movement, but Minjeong caught it immediately, the way Jimin’s knees pressed together, the way she adjusted her stance like she was trying to shrink into the wall behind her. Her bag slipped forward slightly, bumping awkwardly against her hip as if she were trying to angle it in front of herself.

“What are you doing?” Minjeong frowned. 

“N- nothing.” Jimin’s face went crimson. 

“Are you even listening?,” Minjeong said, irritation sharpening again, "I’m talking to you and you’re-  You’re what? Trying to hide?”

She reached out without really thinking, fingers brushing the strap of Jimin’s bag. Jimin made a tiny, panicked sound and clutched it tighter, pulling it back toward her front.

“Don’t.” She blurted.

That was what finally cut through Minjeong’s haze of anger.

She froze, staring at Jimin’s hands, the way they were hovering low and awkward, clearly trying to block something from view. 

“Why are you holding your bag so awkwardly?” She asked, suspicion edging into her voice.

“Please, it’s not- you don’t-” Jimin shook her head frantically. 

Minjeong tugged the bag aside, just forceful enough to move it out of the way but Jimin reacted like it was the end of the world. The moment the bag slipped from her grip, she let out a small, mortified squeak and snapped both hands down in front of herself.

Too late.

Minjeong’s breath hitched.

“Oh.” She said, the word tumbling out before she could stop it.

Jimin, to her credit, was trying valiantly to hide herself, shoulders hunched, eyes squeezed shut behind her glasses like she might vanish if she refused to look. The front of her trousers, however, made it painfully obvious what she’d been attempting to conceal.

For a second Minjeong could only stare, the scene so absurd it almost short circuited her brain. All that anger, all that tension, and somehow they had ended up here.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Minjeong said finally, a disbelieving laugh slipping into her voice despite herself. 

“I- I don’t know why- It- It’s not like I wanted- I’m sorry-” Jimin’s ears were bright red now. 

“God,” Minjeong interrupted, shaking her head, "You really are a loser.”

“I’m not!” Jimin protested weakly, words tangling over each other, "I mean, I’m not not one but- It just- I get nervous and, and you were so close and you were angry and I-”

She trailed off helplessly, mortification etched into every line of her face.

Minjeong crossed her arms, studying her with a mixture of incredulity and something dangerously close to amusement. 

“I cannot take you seriously right now. You’ve got me cornering you in a dingy classroom and you’re standing there like this.”

“I didn’t mean to- I’ll just- I’ll go-” Jimin looked like she might melt into the wall. 

“Yeah,” Minjeong said dryly, "You should. Before you lose whatever dignity you’ve got left.”

Jimin nodded rapidly, snatching her bag back up as if it were a life raft. 

“I’m so sorry!” She blurted, voice barely above a whisper, before darting for the door.

It swung shut behind her a heartbeat later, leaving the room abruptly silent.

Minjeong stood there alone, the echo of Jimin’s apology still hanging faintly in the air. Her irritation ebbed, replaced by something lighter, stranger. She let out a quiet laugh, rubbing a hand over her face as the absurdity of it all finally caught up to her.

“Well,” She murmured to the empty room, a crooked smile tugging at her lips, “That’s certainly interesting.”

The next day was worse.

Minjeong had woken up with a knot in her stomach and a scene on loop in her head that she very much did not want to be replaying. She tried to bury it under her routine but her mind kept sliding back to that tiny breakout room, to Jimin’s flustered face, to the sheer absurdity of the whole thing.

By the middle of the afternoon she gave up pretending she was above it.

She opened Instagram up and typed Jimin’s name into the search bar before she could overthink it, her eyebrows raising slightly when she realised that Jimin already followed her.

Jimin’s profile was exactly what Minjeong expected. It was a chaotic collage of blurry photos, a few pictures of food and a few actual selfies. Minjeong scrolled further back than she meant to, slightly smiling despite herself.

Under all the baggy clothes and round glasses, Jimin was actually very cute… in a nerdy way.

Minjeong paused, her thumb hovering over the screen for a second.

Then she hit follow.

She stared at the screen for a second, then opened the message box and typed before she could talk herself out of it.

imwinter
Hey
It’s Minjeong
About yesterday, sorry for being so intense

Across campus, Jimin was stretched out on her bed, half heartedly scrolling through tiktok when her phone buzzed.

She blinked at the screen.

Once. Then Twice.

Then promptly dropped her phone directly onto her face.

“Ow-!” She scrambled to pick it back up, heart thudding as she reread the notifications

She bolted upright, thumbs hovering uselessly over the keyboard for a full ten seconds before finally typing back.

katarinabluu
hi minjeong!!!
omg im so so sorry about yesterday too i swear i didn’t mean to make anything weird 😭
im rlly rlly sorry :((

Minjeong let out an amused laugh upon seeing Jimin’s replies.

imwinter
You don’t need to apologise again
I kind of overreacted
I shouldn’t have cornered you like that

There was a brief pause, then three dots appeared, vanished, and reappeared.

katarinabluu
its okay!!! i mean it was a little scary but i get that u were upset and i probably would have been too if i were u 😅
i just hope you’re not mad at me anymore 🥺

imwinter
I’m not, don’t worry
Actually
Do you want to meet up later? At the cafe near the main library
I’d like to make it up to you :)

Jimin’s reply came almost instantly.

katarinabluu
really?
like, really really?
i mean yes absolutely! id love that!! :D

Minjeong smiled to herself.

imwinter
Perfect
How does 4PM sound?

katarinabluu
YES 4 is perfect!!! ill be there early maybe cause im bad at being on time 😔

Minjeong set her phone down, amusement and something slightly darker making its way into her chest.

Sure, her reason for wanting to meet Jimin may not have been as innocent but, sue her, curiosity had wormed its way into her head and it would not leave quietly.

Time eventually ticked by much faster than Minjeong had expected, the reminder she had set for herself going off.

She grabbed her bag and headed out of her building, the late afternoon sun washing the campus in a soft golden glow. The cafe that she had told Jimin to meet her at was already busy when she arrived, most of the students treating themselves to a quick treat after surviving the semester.

Minjeong checked her watch and she was three minutes late.

Jimin, as she had promised to be, was there early.

Minjeong spotted her immediately, tucked into a table near the window, fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt, glasses slightly crooked as she stared far too intently at the menu as if she’d never seen it before. The moment Jimin noticed her, she straightened up so fast her chair legs squeaked against the tile.

“H- Hi!” Jimin blurted, half rising before wincing and dropping back into her seat.

“Hey. Sorry I’m a little late.” Minjeong smiled despite herself. 

“That’s okay! I was early.” Jimin said quickly, shaking her hands to assure Minjeong it was okay.

Minjeong slid into the chair across from her and set her purse down. 

“You can order whatever you want,” She said easily, "It’s on me.”

Jimin let out a small, nervous laugh and she gestured toward the table. Only then did Minjeong notice the plates.

Plates. Plural.

There were several of them, arranged carefully between them, each holding a different slice of cheesecake. Strawberry. Chocolate. Plain. Something drizzled with caramel and nuts.

“I kind of already ordered,” Jimin said sheepishly, "I wanted to get you something too, but I didn’t know what you liked, so I panicked and just… got one of everything. And then I paid before I could overthink it.”

Minjeong stared.

Then she looked back up at Jimin, who was clearly bracing herself for judgment.

“You… ordered every flavour.” Minjeong simply repeated.

Jimin nodded. 

“They’re really good,” She offered weakly, "And I thought maybe you could just… pick your favourite?”

For a moment, Minjeong didn’t say anything. She just leaned back slightly in her chair, studying Jimin’s face, the awkward smile on her face, the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of a napkin.

“Is, um- Is there something on my face?” Jimin’s smile wavered. 

Minjeong shook her head, lips curving into a faint smile.

“No,” She reached forward, sliding one of the plates closer, "You’re just such a dork.”

They settled into eating for a minute, forks scraping quietly against plates while the café murmured around them. Jimin chose the strawberry slice this time, eyes lighting up when she took the first bite.

“I love chocolate,” She said happily, "It’s my favourite flavour.”

Minjeong watched her chew, then set her own fork down with deliberate care.

“So,” She said, voice smooth, “About yesterday.”

Jimin’s shoulders tensed on instinct. 

“I- I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make anything weird-”

Minjeong waved a hand. 

“I said it was okay. I shouldn't have lost my temper anyhow,” She paused, then added, almost thoughtfully, “You just have this talent for pushing my buttons without even realising it.”

“Pushing your buttons?” Jimin blinked. 

“Mhm,” Minjeong said, "You’re not even aware you’re doing anything. It’s almost irritating.”

“I just- I like learning about different topics….” Jimin laughed nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“Sure. Let’s call it that.” Minjeong echoed, lips curving, "It’s probably just that people underestimate you because you dress like you look lost all the time.”

“Hey, I don’t get lost that often- I mean- I like to dress comfortable…” Jimin murmured, her cheeks flushing immediately. 

“I’m sure you do,” Minjeong said lightly, almost cooing, "It’s just funny is all. You don’t look like someone who should be beating half the club, let alone me.”

“I don’t mean to make you look bad or anything.” Jimin stammered, her eyes apologetic.

“Oh, you don’t, don’t worry,” Minjeong replied sweetly, "Your delivery is still a little awkward and soft but you are really good at dismantling arguments.

“Oh, I- Th- Thank you? I think?” 

“If you were more confident, you’d be terrifying. I mean, you’re surprisingly effective even now. Like a little puppy getting a bachelor's degree.” Minjeong continued, waving her spoon around in the air.

“That- Is that a compliment?” Jimin squeaked.

“Of course it is,” Minjeong replied, tilting her head, "It just means you’re very unassuming.”

The colour in Jimin’s face deepened as she tugged at the collar of her shirt. 

They kept eating, but Minjeong didn’t let the pressure ease, continuing the conversation as if she had no clue what she was doing. Jimin tried to laugh it off, but her reactions betrayed her, clearing her throat and pulling at her shirt far too much to be normal.

Jimin was now staring very intently at her cheesecake, ears bright red, shoulders stiff.

“Everything okay?” Minjeong asked, acting concerned.

“Y- Yeah,” Jimin squeaked, "Totally peachy. Everything’s awesome!”

They finished the last of the cheesecake in a strange kind of quiet as Jimin avoided eye contact with Minjeong and that made Minjeong feel oddly satisfied.

Minjeong glanced at the time on her phone, pretending like she had somewhere important to be.

“I should head out.”

“Oh- already? Okay. Um. Thanks again for… this.” Jimin looked up too fast. 

“You’re the one that bought all the food.” Minjeong stated simply, tilting her head.

“Yeah but I meant for like, for um… for meeting me.” Jimin smiled weakly but sincerely.

Minjeong stood, gathering her things, then paused. She let her gaze drop briefly before meeting Jimin’s eyes again.

“Although, before you go yourself, you might want to… take care of your little friend.” She said casually, as if she wasn’t talking about the semi that Jimin was currently sporting in the middle of a cafe.

Jimin choked on air, hands flying down to cover herself as if that might somehow make Minjeong unsee it.

“I- I’m so sorry," She blurted, words tumbling over each other, "I swear it’s not- I don’t know why this keeps happening and- god this is really embarrassing but-”

Minjeong laughed, soft and surprised, cutting cleanly through the spiral Jimin was going on. 

“Hey,” She said easily, "Relax. It’s fine.”

“It… it is?” Jimin froze mid ramble, peeking up at Minjeong. 

“Of course. Everyone likes what they like, right?” Minjeong replied, tone light, though there was something pitying in it.

Jimin flushed even deeper. 

“It’s not like that,” She insisted quickly, "I mean- It’s not because of- I’m not-”

“Oh?” Minjeong tilted her head, studying Jimin, “So you don’t like it then?”

“I- No- I didn’t say that-!” Jimin panicked, shaking her head so fast her glasses nearly flew off her face, "It’s not that either, it’s just- I don’t think about it like that, I swear-” 

“God, you’re really bad at this.” Minjeong murmured, her smile widening.

Before Jimin could react, Minjeong stepped closer and reached out, fingers brushing through Jimin’s hair in a quick, patronising ruffle, like she was praising a well meaning but hopeless puppy.

“It’s okay,” Minjeong cooed, "You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Jimin stood there, stunned, face burning, hands still uselessly hovering over her crotch as Minjeong withdrew.

Minjeong slung her purse over her shoulder and turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back and smile.

“See you around, Jimin.”

It had been a week or two since the cafe, and somehow, against all odds, Jimin had worked her way into Minjeong’s daily routine.

Summer school was in full swing, which meant the campus, while not full, was not quite empty either. Instead of freedom, they were all trapped in this strange half semester limbo that was entirely too hot and too quiet, the buildings echoing in a way that made everything feel slightly unreal. The library stayed open late for the condensed courses, the cafés never quite losing their trickle of exhausted students.

It started innocently enough, a message here, a reply there. Jimin thanking her again for meeting her at the cafe, asking for recommendations on shows to watch or books to read, sending Minjeong pictures of her food. Minjeong responded with short replies that really should have shut the whole thing down.

They didn’t.

If anything, Jimin only seemed to take Minjeong’s restraint as encouragement. Her messages came with a kind of relentless enthusiasm, full of exclamation points and ramblings and little apologies for talking too much that never actually stopped her from doing exactly that. It was… embarrassing, really.

Embarrassing, a little pitiful, and endlessly entertaining.

Minjeong found herself opening the app more often than she meant to, scanning for Jimin’s name without consciously deciding to. She never matched Jimin’s energy, simply because she didn’t need to. A single dry response from Minjeong was enough for Jimin to send five in return.

Sometimes Minjeong leaned into it and it made her smile, imagining the way Jimin’s cheeks would already be turning red, how she’d be hunched over her phone somewhere, waiting anxiously for the next message.

katarinabluu
should i get a peach latte or an iced americano 😮
what do u think??

imwinter
Hmm
Americano

katarinabluu
Okay! 😁
I do need the energy

imwinter
Actually
No
Changed my mind
Peach Latte

katarinabluu
omg
how did u know i wanted smth sweet?

imwinter
Jesus
You really just agree with everything I say
Do you ever think for yourself?

katarinabluu
I DO!!
I just… think you’re usually right 😔

It was almost too easy.

Minjeong told herself she was just indulging a harmless dynamic, that it was funny and that Jimin made it far too easy to tease her.

But there was something about it, the way Jimin lit up under even the smallest scrap of attention, the way she flushed and stuttered when Minjeong teased her, that kept her engaged longer than she expected.

Jimin really was like a big, overexcited puppy, desperate to please, tripping over herself just to stay close.

And Minjeong, if she was being honest with herself, was enjoying every second of it.

That was how Minjeong ended up in her current predicament.

She was halfway across campus on her way to class, mind drifting lazily between a half remembered assignment and a message Jimin had sent her that morning, when she spotted a familiar cluster at one of the outdoor picnic tables near the cafeteria. Jihyo was perched on top of the table itself, swinging her legs while listening to something Sana was saying, while Aeri, Jimin and Yizhou were playing some sort of game on Aeri’s phone. 

Minjeong slowed without meaning to.

She told herself that she would just meet them after her lecture like they’d planned, it wasn’t a long one anyhow, only an hour and a half, but her feet stalled anyway, hesitation stretching into a full minute of indecision that she would later pretend hadn’t happened.

Then she pivoted and walked straight toward them.

Jimin was the first to notice, eyes lighting up immediately as Minjeong approached. 

“Oh! Hi Minjeong-”

Minjeong didn’t even let her finish. 

“You, follow me.” She said, tone crisp, shooting everyone else a quick friendly wave and smile before turning on her heel.

“Huh- wait, what-?” Jimin blinked. 

But Minjeong was already walking away.

For a second Jimin just sat there, frozen, looking from Minjeong’s retreating back to the others as if waiting for someone to confirm what Minjeong had said. Then she jolted up, grabbing her bag and stepping over the bench seat.

“I- um- I’ll be right back!” She hastily said to the others, nearly tangling her feet with the table leg in her haste. 

Aeri made a small noise of alarm as Jimin pitched forward, only just managing to catch herself before she faceplanted. Minjeong was several strides ahead by the time Jimin broke into an awkward jog, bag bouncing on her shoulder as she hurried after her.

The table was left in stunned silence.

Jihyo was the first to recover, leaning back on her hands and squinting after the two retreating figures. 

“I thought Minjeong wasn’t the most fond of Jimin.” She said slowly, glancing at Sana.

“Last I heard, she wasn’t.” Sana frowned, equally bewildered. 

They all watched as Jimin finally caught up, nearly colliding with Minjeong when the younger girl stopped abruptly near the path that led toward the lecture halls.

“Do you think Minjeong is bullying her?” Aeri squinted. 

“Minjeong can be cold but she isn’t a bully. At least I hope not.” Yizhou pouted.

From the table, they could see Jimin clearly enough, bright and animated as she spoke rapidly to Minjeong, hands gesturing in small, excited arcs as they walked, Minjeong leading without ever once checking to see if Jimin was still following.

They didn’t slow down until they reached the door leading into Minjeong’s lecture hall. Jimin was slightly out of breath by then, cheeks flushed, hair disheveled as she hurried to keep up.

“So uh,” She finally said, voice pitched a little higher from trying to keep up with Minjeong, "What did you need me for?”

Minjeong turned slowly, already composing the expression she wanted. Inside, she was smiling. Outside, she pouted.

“It’s stupid,” She said, flexing her fingers once, "My wrist kind of hurts. I was taking notes all morning.”

“Oh- I mean- that’s not stupid. Are you okay?” Jimin looked concerned. 

“I’ll live,” Minjeong replied, shrugging, "But I need someone's help to take notes for me today. You’ll help me, right?”

There was a beat of silence while Jimin processed what Minjeong said. 

“Wait, what class is this?” She asked, her eyebrows knitting together. 

“Discreet Mathematics.”

“Oh. Um. I don’t really know anything about math, especially discreet math…” Jimin let out a small, nervous laugh. 

“It’s fine. I’ll just take the notes myself and deal with my wrist.” Minjeong’s pout deepened, lower lip pushed forward with exaggerated disappointment. 

She turned as if to go inside alone.

“No- Wait- I can! I mean, I don’t know much, but I’m good at writing things down and I think my handwriting is neat enough, and- yeah. I can do it.” Jimin immediately panicked. 

Minjeong paused, then looked back at her with a slow, satisfied smile. 

“Oh, okay. Good then.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay” Jimin visibly relaxed. 

They stepped into the lecture hall together. It was one of the larger ones with tiered seating, rows curving toward the front where the professor was already setting up. Most of the seats were filled, but the back rows were still mostly empty.

Minjeong didn’t hesitate. She led them straight to the far corner of the last row, the most secluded spot in the room. 

“Here.” She said, stopping abruptly.

Jimin fumbled to pull a chair out, setting her bag down and opening it up to pull out a notebook and pen. 

“Do you need-”

“Just sit.” Minjeong said lightly.

So Jimin sat.

Before she could even adjust the chair properly, Minjeong turned and perched herself on Jimin’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Jimin froze.

“Um, W- What are you doing?” Jimin’s voice was a quiet, uncertain breath. 

“My legs kinda hurt too. I don’t feel like sitting on a regular chair.” Minjeong turned her head just slightly, not enough to even glance at Jimin fully, her voice laced with fake innocence. 

“O- Oh. Okay. Cool, yeah, okay.” Jimin stuttered. 

Before she could think of anything else to say, not that her brain was offering much help at the moment, the professor’s voice echoed through the room, announcing the start of the lecture. With a small, almost apologetic breath, Jimin leaned forward just slightly, pulling them both closer to the desk. Her arms curled carefully around Minjeong, reaching forward to flip open her notebook and start writing. She could smell Minjeong’s perfume, clean and expensive, and she tried not to let it distract her as she scrawled the heading across the top of the page.

To her own surprise, she was able to follow the lecture better than she expected. The professor spoke clearly, the slides were concise, and her notes flowed easier than she’d feared.

Then Minjeong shifted.

It was small at first. A little roll of her hips, a lazy stretch as she repositioned herself. Jimin’s pen stuttered, the word conjunction coming out with a jagged, misplaced stroke halfway through.

She stilled for a second, breathed in to compose herself, and continued writing.

A minute later, Minjeong shifted again, and again, and again.

Another squirm, a small lean back, slowly adjusting herself like she was trying to find the perfect center of balance. Jimin’s entire body tensed under her. The next time it happened, Minjeong dragged slightly across Jimin’s lap in a way that felt less accidental. Her weight slid right over the growing strain in Jimin’s trousers, and this time, Jimin couldn’t exactly pretend it hadn’t affected her.

Her breath hitched and her pen stopped in its tracks.

“Minjeong?” She whispered under her breath, voice tight, "What are you doing?”

Minjeong didn’t look up from her phone. 

“Getting comfortable.” She said simply, not offering more.

“Right. Comfortable. Okay.” Jimin tried to laugh it off, but it came out a little strangled. 

She returned to her notebook, but her handwriting had started to tilt unevenly. She kept having to pause to catch her breath, to subtly shift her legs and adjust how Minjeong was sitting on her. Jimin tried to keep writing, tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, that the way Minjeong kept shifting was just  coincidence layered on coincidence. But it only got worse.

Minjeong kept adjusting her weight, crossing and uncrossing her legs, leaning back a fraction, then forward, the smallest changes in posture somehow amplifying everything Jimin was desperately trying to ignore.

Her pen hovered uselessly over the page.

“Minjeong…” Jimin whispered at last, just loud enough for Minjeong to hear, "Could you, um, maybe… stop moving so much?”

Minjeong didn’t even look up. 

“Why?” She asked, almost genuinely curious, "Is there a problem?”

Jimin swallowed hard. The words jammed somewhere between her brain and her mouth. How was she supposed to explain this in the middle of a lecture hall?

“I just- it’s a little distracting…” She murmured.

“Distracting how?” Minjeong tilted her head slightly, finally glancing back at her. 

“It’s just… you’re- you’re really close and-” Jimin opened her mouth, closed it again. Her cheeks were burning so hot she was sure she was affecting the room temperature. 

Minjeong shifted again, deliberately this time, pressing her weight back just enough to make Jimin’s breath hitch audibly.

“Oh,” Minjeong said, faking surprise, “Wait. Is that what I think it is?”

“Minjeong-” Jimin’s throat worked. 

“Are you hard? In the middle of a lecture?” Minjeong whispered, silently delighted.

Jimin shut her eyes for half a second, willing herself not to dissolve on the spot. 

“I’m sorry, you were just- moving too much and I- I couldn’t help it,” She said, voice strained and barely steady, "So can you just… not do that right now?”

“Not do what?” Minjeong asked, still faking innocence, rolling her hips slightly again as if to test something, "This?”

Jimin’s head tipped forward on a helpless, low sound, her forehead nearly brushing Minjeong’s shoulder. 

“Yes,” She breathed, "That. Please.”

“Oh, sure, no problem!” Minjeong smiled brightly and then turned her attention back to her phone.

Not even five minutes later, Jimin would come to find out that Minjeong was a liar.

Jimin’s fingers curled into the edge of the desk. Her notes had degenerated into a mess of half formed sentences and crooked lines, the professor’s voice a meaningless drone in the background.

“Minjeong,” She whispered again, more desperate this time, "Please, I can’t- I’m trying to write-”

Minjeong turned just enough to catch Jimin's eye, her expression morphing into an exaggerated look of pity.

"I’m sorry," She said, voice full of faux sympathy, "I’m not doing it on purpose, I promise."

Before Jimin could form any kind of response, Minjeong nestled backward, deliberately pushing herself further onto Jimin's lap, the pressure settling directly over her erection in a way that made Jimin's entire world narrow to that single point of contact.

Jimin's pen slipped out of her hands as she hand shot out to grip the table's edge, knuckles going white as she tried to anchor herself to something, anything. Her other hand moved on instinct, fingers curling around Minjeong's waist like she might be able to still her movements that way.

It didn’t help in the slightest.

"Minjeong, P- Please" She managed, voice breaking halfway through, "I- I'm gonna-"

The words choked off in her throat, tangled and incoherent. 

"You're gonna what?" Minjeong asked, tilting her head like she genuinely didn't understand.

"I can't- Please, I'm-" Jimin's words came out strangled, desperate.

But Minjeong just hummed, a small questioning sound, and shifted once more. 

Jimin gasped, unable to hold it in anymore, both of her hands flying to Minjeong's waist, fingers digging in as she pulled Minjeong flush against herself, holding her there with a grip that bordered on desperate. Her face buried itself in Minjeong's hair, forehead pressed against the back of her neck as her entire body went rigid.

Her climax hit her in a wave that left her breathless, hips jerking involuntarily as warmth spread through her pants in a mortifying rush. She bit down on her lip hard enough to hurt, trying to muffle the sounds that wanted to escape, her whole body trembling with the effort of staying quiet.

For several seconds, she couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except hold onto Minjeong and try to remember how to breathe as the lecture continued around them, completely oblivious.

Jimin's grip on Minjeong's waist loosened slowly, fingers uncurling one by one as reality crept back in. Her face was still buried in Minjeong's hair, and she could feel the heat radiating off her own cheeks, the wet patch in her pants a damning reminder of what had just happened.

"Oh," Minjeong said, delighted, "Did you...?"

Jimin made a small, broken sound against her neck that might have been an affirmation or just pure mortification, Minjeong really couldn’t tell.

The minutes that followed were excruciating.

Jimin remained frozen, face still buried in Minjeong's hair, and she could feel every second ticking by like a countdown to her inevitable humiliation, hyperaware of the dampness in her pants, of the way her heart was still racing, of how utterly and completely screwed she was.

Minjeong, for her part, seemed perfectly content to stay exactly where she was.

The professor's voice droned on about proof techniques and set theories, words that might as well have been in another language for all the sense they made to Jimin right now.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the lecture began to wind down. The professor announced something about next week's reading, and as chairs started scraping against the floor as students began packing up their things, Jimin felt a fresh wave of panic crash over her.

People were heading their way and everyone was going to see and they were going to know what happened.

Before she could spiral completely, Minjeong stood up smoothly, finally lifting herself off Jimin's lap with a grace that seemed almost mocking given the state she'd left Jimin in.

Jimin immediately hunched forward, both hands flying to cover her lap as she glanced down at herself. The wet patch wasn't as huge as she’d believed, but it was definitely there, darkening the fabric of her pants in a way that made her want to dissolve into the floor.

She bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to sting, chewing at it as her mind raced through increasingly desperate exit strategies. Maybe if she waited until everyone left? Or tied her jacket around her waist except she hadn't brought one today because of course she hadn't, because why on earth would she have been prepared for this?

"Hey."

Jimin's head snapped up to find Minjeong watching her with an expression that was amused and a little softer than usual. Before she could reply, Minjeong reached out and pinched her cheek, fingers gentle despite the teasing gesture.

"You're so cute." Minjeong cooed, taking on that patronising tone that somehow managed to be both degrading and affectionate at once.

Jimin's face, already flushed, somehow managed to burn even hotter. Minjeong's smile widened slightly before she turned away, crouching down to rummage through her own bag. Jimin watched, still frozen in place, as Minjeong pulled out a jacket, a nice one in a deep navy blue that looked far too expensive to be casually lending out.

"Here," Minjeong said, straightening up and holding it out to Jimin, "Use this to cover yourself up."

For a moment, Jimin just stared at the offered jacket, then up at Minjeong's face, then back down at the jacket again.

Minjeong raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Thank you." Jimin finally managed, the words quiet but earnest as she reached out to take the jacket with trembling fingers.

The fabric was soft and it smelled faintly of Minjeong's perfume. Jimin clutched it to her chest for a second before quickly standing and tying it around her waist, letting the sleeves hang down in front to cover the incriminating evidence of what had just happened.

Minjeong watched the whole process with obvious amusement, a satisfied smile on her face.

"Well," Minjeong said lightly, taking a step toward the aisle, "We should get going. I know the others are waiting."

She made it two steps before pausing, glancing back over her shoulder. Her eyes met Jimin's, and there was something sly in her expression.

"Oh, and Jimin?" Minjeong added, her tone turning slightly suggestive.

"Y-yeah?" Jimin's throat worked. 

"You can use my jacket if you get cold… or for other things too, you know," Minjeong said, punctuating the statement with a deliberate wink.

Before Jimin could process what that meant or form any kind of response, Minjeong turned and walked away, her footsteps confident and unhurried as she disappeared into the stream of students heading for the exit.

God, she was so, so screwed.

The bass thrummed through the walls of Aeri’s house, rattling the windows and making the floor vibrate with each beat. The living room was packed with bodies, people dancing, laughing, shouting over the music to be heard and the coloured lights she had strung up flickered in rhythm, painting everything in rainbow hues.

Jimin had been sitting on the couch for the better part of an hour now, tucked quietly into the corner. It was the perfect vantage point to watch everything happen without actually having to participate, which was exactly how she preferred it when she was a few drinks in.

She brought her cup to her lips, taking another sip of whatever concoction Sana had pressed into her hands earlier. It was sweet, fruity, and definitely stronger than it tasted, which explained why the edges of her vision had gone pleasantly soft and why the music seemed louder than it had been twenty minutes ago.

Drink number... what was she on now? Four? Five? She'd lost count somewhere between Jihyo challenging someone to a beer pong and Yizhou riling Aeri up by insisting hotdogs were sandwiches.

The main reason she'd even shown up tonight was because it was Aeri’s party, and she had given her those ridiculous puppy dog eyes and promised it would be fun. And the only reason she'd stayed this long was because leaving required coordinating a ride and also standing up, both of which seemed like monumentally bothersome tasks at the moment.

So she sat and nursed her drink,, a pleasant flush spreading across her face that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room and everything to do with the alcohol buzzing through her system. She was tipsy, definitely, but not drunk. She'd always been able to hold her liquor surprisingly well, a fact that had earned her both praise and suspicion from her friends over the years.

Someone stumbled past the couch, nearly knocking over the lamp on the side table. Jimin tracked their trajectory with lazy interest, watching as they recovered and continued toward the kitchen.

Then the couch dipped beside her.

Before she could turn to see who'd sat down, her cup was plucked smoothly from her hand.

"Hey, that’s mine-" She started, the protest dying in her throat as she finally looked over.

Minjeong.

Of course it was Minjeong.

Minjeong, who was currently bringing Jimin's cup to her own lips and taking a deliberate sip, eyes locked on Jimin's the entire time. Minjeong, who was wearing a black crop top that showed off an expanse of smooth skin and a pair of shorts that could barely qualify for the name, the hem riding high on her thighs.

Jimin's brain short circuited.

Her face, already flushed from the alcohol, flamed even hotter. She tried to look away, she really did, but her eyes seemed to have other ideas, gaze dropping traitorously to the long stretch of Minjeong's legs before she could stop herself.

Bad idea. Very bad idea.

She jerked her eyes back up, focusing determinedly on the wall behind Minjeong's head. Then the ceiling, then the lamp that had almost been knocked over, anywhere that wasn't Minjeong's legs or the curve of her waist or-

Get it the fuck together Jimin.

"This is terrible," Minjeong said, wrinkling her nose as she handed the cup back, "What even is this?"

"I don't know," Jimin managed, voice coming out slightly strangled, "Aeri made it."

"That explains it," Minjeong replied, settling back into the couch cushions like she planned to stay.

She crossed her legs, and Jimin's eyes betrayed her again, flickering down before she could stop them. She took a hasty sip of her drink to cover her reaction, then immediately regretted it when she accidentally drank more than she meant to.

"So," Minjeong began, voice just loud enough to be heard over the music, "What have you been up to the past couple of days?"

It was an innocent question, normal even. The kind of thing people asked at parties all the time.

Jimin opened her mouth to answer, already forming some casual response about classes or studying or literally anything mundane and safe.

The words died in her throat.

Because the only thing that surfaced in her mind, vivid and immediate and absolutely horrifying, was the memory of being alone in her room two nights ago, of Minjeong's jacket clenched in her hand, the fabric still carrying that expensive perfume, of her hand sliding down her own body as she buried her face in the navy blue material, breathing in Minjeong's scent as she-

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

Jimin's face went from flushed to flaming in approximately half a second.

Minjeong's eyebrow arched slightly, waiting.

"Um," Jimin finally managed after clearing her throat, voice coming out higher than normal, "Not... not much."

Even to her own ears, it sounded unconvincing. It was pathetic, really.

The tips of her ears burned red, and she took another desperate sip of her drink to avoid having to elaborate. Maybe if she just didn't make eye contact, Minjeong wouldn't press. Maybe she'd just move on to literally any other topic of conversation.

Minjeong hummed, clearly skeptical.

"Not much," She repeated slowly, "Right."

Jimin nodded frantically, still not quite meeting her eyes.

"So then," Minjeong continued, shifting slightly closer, her bare knee nearly brushing Jimin's leg, "How come you're sitting here all by yourself? It's a party. You're supposed to be having fun, mingling and stuff, you know."

Jimin glanced around the crowded room as if the answer might be written somewhere on the walls.

"It's... nice here," She murmured, the admission coming out slightly embarrassed, "And comfortable."

"God, you’re such a wallflower.” Minjeong laughed

Before Jimin could defend herself, Minjeong leaned in just a fraction, head tilting with exaggerated curiosity.

"Has any pretty girl caught your eye tonight?" She asked, tone light and teasing, "Anyone you've been watching from your little observation point?"

"No!" Jimin squeaked, the word coming out far too quickly and far too loud.

A few people nearby glanced over at the outburst, and Jimin immediately hunched into herself, face burning as she tried to make herself smaller. 

"No," She repeated, quieter this time, shaking her head, "No one. At all. None. Zero people."

She was definitely not thinking about the girl currently sitting inches away from her, whose legs seemed to go on for miles. Definitely not.

Minjeong hummed again, and this time there was something distinctly satisfied in the sound.

"Good." She said simply.

"Good?" Jimin blinked, finally risking a glance at Minjeong's face. 

"Mhm," Minjeong replied, "Because it would be a shame if I had to steal you away from them."

Jimin's brain fell to a complete halt.

"I- What?" She managed to whisper out.

Minjeong simply chuckled, shaking her head like Jimin had just said something adorable and impossibly naive.

"Stand up." She said suddenly.

"What?" Jimin blinked. 

"Stand up." Minjeong repeated, more firmly this time.

And Jimin did, without question this time. She set her cup down on the side table and pushed herself to her feet, swaying slightly as the alcohol made her head swim.

Minjeong's smile widened, something triumphant flickering in her eyes.

"Give me your jacket."

Jimin was already shrugging out of it, the denim sliding off her shoulders as she handed it over without a single word of protest. Minjeong took it, draping it over her arm, then shook her head slowly, that same amused expression painting her features.

"You're so cute," She murmured, almost to herself, "I wish I had noticed sooner."

"W- what?" Jimin stammered, finally finding her voice, "What do you mean?"

But Minjeong didn't answer. Instead, she stood abruptly, jacket still draped over one arm as she reached down with her free hand and grabbed Jimin's wrist.

"Come on." She said, tugging.

Jimin stumbled forward, nearly tripping over her own shoes as Minjeong pulled her through the crowded living room. Bodies pressed close on either side, the music still pounding through the speakers, but all of it faded into background noise as Jimin focused on not losing her balance.

"Where- where are we going?" She asked meekly, voice barely audible over the noise.

"Don't worry about it." Minjeong replied without looking back.

They navigated through the hallway, past the bathroom where someone was loudly complaining about the line, past the kitchen, and Jimin had no choice but to follow, her wrist still caught in Minjeong's grip. Finally, Minjeong stopped in front of a door near the end of the hall and pushed it open, tugging Jimin inside behind her.

Jihyo's room.

The realisation hit Jimin the moment the door clicked shut, followed immediately by the sound of the lock turning.

"Wait-" Jimin started, panic rising in her chest, "What are you doing? Aeri's going to be so mad if she finds out we're in here-"

Minjeong shrugged, tossing Jimin's jacket onto a nearby chair with casual indifference.

"Aeri will get over it." She said simply.

Before Jimin could protest further, Minjeong was moving forward, hands coming up to press against Jimin's shoulders. Jimin stumbled backward, her legs hitting the edge of the bed and she fell back onto the mattress with a soft gasp, hands scrambling for purchase as she tried to push herself back up.

She didn't get the chance.

Minjeong followed her down, one knee braced on the bed beside Jimin's hip, hands planted on either side of her head as she leaned over her. 

"Minjeong-"

She was cut off as Minjeong closed the distance between them and kissed her.

For a moment, Jimin was too stunned to react, her brain scrambling to catch up with what was actually happening. Minjeong was kissing her. 

Minjeong. Was. Kissing. Her.

Then something clicked, and Jimin's hands came up tentatively, fingers curling into the fabric of Minjeong's top as she began to kiss back, hesitant and clumsy but earnest. Just as she was starting to get into it, starting to lean up into the kiss, Minjeong pulled back.

They were both breathing heavily, the sound loud in the sudden quiet of Jihyo's room. Minjeong hovered over her, strands of hair falling forward to frame her face, lips slightly swollen.

Then she pouted, and somehow that expression was more devastating than the kiss had been.

"I haven't felt good in a while," Minjeong murmured, her voice taking on that same whiny quality that made Jimin want to fix whatever was wrong, "You wouldn't say no to helping me, right?"

Jimin shook her head so quickly she almost gave herself whiplash.

"No- I mean yes! I mean-" She fumbled over the words, "I want to help. I do."

Minjeong's pout transformed into a smile, slow and satisfied.

"Good." She said softly.

Before Jimin could process anything more, Minjeong was leaning back in, capturing her lips again in another kiss. This one was deeper, more assured, and Jimin felt herself melting into it.

Then Minjeong's hands started to move.

They trailed down Jimin's sides, fingertips ghosting over her ribcage before sliding lower, mapping the length of her thighs with agonising slowness before finally, finally making their way up to press against her crotch.

Jimin gasped against Minjeong's mouth, hips jerking involuntarily at the contact.

Minjeong pulled back just enough to look at her, and there was something almost condescending in her expression, a knowing amusement that made Jimin's face burn.

"You know, it's almost kind of funny," Minjeong said conversationally, her hand now fully palming Jimin through her pants, "Just how much you let me get away with."

Jimin opened her mouth to respond, to defend herself, but whatever she'd been about to say dissolved into a choked sound as Minjeong's fingers found her through the fabric, tracing the outline of her growing erection with deliberate precision.

"I don't really know how I missed it," Minjeong continued, "The way you always act around me. The way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

Her fingers pressed down more firmly, and Jimin's hips lifted off the bed without her permission.

"God, you’re so obvious about it too," Minjeong murmured, leaning down until her lips were barely brushing Jimin's ear, "It would be so pathetic if I didn’t find it cute."

Minjeong pulled back abruptly, sitting up and shifting her weight off of Jimin. The loss of contact made Jimin want to whine, but she bit it back, watching as Minjeong looked down at her.

"Get on the bed properly." Minjeong said, gesturing toward the headboard.

Jimin scrambled to comply, kicking off her shoes with clumsy urgency before shuffling backward on the mattress. She arranged herself against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of her, hands coming to rest awkwardly in her lap as she tried to figure out what to do with them.

Minjeong kicked off her own shoes with significantly more grace, then climbed onto the bed after her, settling beside Jimin with her legs tucked underneath her.

For a few seconds, she just watched.

Jimin sat there, hyperaware of every inch of space between them, of the way Minjeong's eyes tracked over her face, her shoulders, down to where her hands were fidgeting nervously with each other. She twisted her fingers together, then pulled them apart, then twisted them again, unable to stay still at all.

"You're so nervous." Minjeong said finally, a note of delight colouring her voice.

"I'm not-" Jimin started to protest, but the words died when Minjeong's smile widened.

"Take your pants off," Minjeong said simply, "Let me see it."

Jimin's hands flew to the button of her jeans before her brain could even catch up with the command. She pushed her shirt up out of the way, her fingers fumbling with the button, slipping once, then twice, before finally managing to pop it open. The zipper came next, and she shimmied the denim down her hips with jerky, graceless movements.

She had to lift her hips to get them past her thighs, nearly kicking Minjeong in the process, muttering an apology as she finally succeeded in getting the jeans off completely and tossing them somewhere off the side of the bed.

The moment she was free, her cock sprang up, slapping against her stomach with an audible sound that made Jimin want to die of embarrassment.

It was big, bigger than Minjeong had thought and already leaking at the tip.

Minjeong's eyes dropped to it immediately, and her smile turned into something sharper, more satisfied.

"Pretty." She said softly.

Before Jimin could process what that meant, Minjeong reached out, dragging one her palm over the head of Jimin's cock. Jimin's entire body jerked, a shiver running through her from head to toe as she sucked in a sharp breath.

"Guess what they say about nerds is true, huh?" Minjeong mused.

Minjeong pulled her finger back, and for a moment Jimin thought she might be teasing again, drawing things out. But then Minjeong's hands moved to the hem of her crop top, and Jimin's thought process came to a screeching halt.

She pulled it off in one smooth motion, the fabric sliding up and over her head before being tossed carelessly to the floor.

Jimin gulped audibly.

Minjeong's chest was bare now, perfect and exposed, and Jimin's hand twitched at her side with the overwhelming urge to reach out, to touch, but she kept it frozen there, fingers curling into the bedsheet instead. Then Minjeong hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down along with her panties in one go, kicking them off to join the growing pile of discarded clothing.

She was completely naked now.

Jimin didn't know where to look. Her eyes darted frantically from Minjeong's face to her chest to the curve of her hips to the heat between her legs, trying to take everything in at once and failing spectacularly, her cock aching almost painfully.

Minjeong moved then, moving onto the bed to straddle Jimin's legs, her weight settling comfortably as she positioned herself. She brought her hand up to her mouth and spat into her palm, the gesture crude and deliberate, wasting no time in wrapping it around Jimin’s cock right after.

Jimin shuddered violently, a small, desperate whimper escaping her throat before she could stop it. The feeling of Minjeong's hand, warm and slick, wrapped around her was almost too much to process.

Minjeong stroked upward once, twice, three times, her grip firm and steady.

And that was all it took.

Jimin came with a choked cry, her hips jerking up as her orgasm crashed through her without warning. Cum painted her stomach in thick streaks, some of it dripping down over Minjeong's hand, coating her fingers.

For a second, there was only the sound of Jimin's ragged breathing.

Then Minjeong raised an eyebrow, looking down at the mess with an expression caught somewhere between disbelief and glee.

"Really?" She said, laughing, "Really, Jimin? Already?"

"I- I didn't mean to- " Jimin stammered, her head falling forward in shame, "I'm sorry, I can last longer, I swear, I don't know what happened, I just-"

Her desperate rambling cut off with a sharp jolt as she felt Minjeong's hand move again, still covered in cum, still wrapped around her cock. Jimin's whole body jerked, a little sensitive and raw, a strangled sound escaping her as her hands flew to grab Minjeong's arm.

"Minjeong- Wait- I just-" She gasped.

But Minjeong didn't stop. Her hand continued its slow, deliberate stroke, squeezing just enough to make Jimin squirm.

"You haven’t helped me yet," Minjeong said, a little cruel and unforgiving, "Why would I stop? You can handle it, can’t you?"

Jimin could only nod weakly, another whimper catching in her throat.

“Look at you," Minjeong continued, her strokes becoming firmer, more demanding, "You’re so easy. I barely have to do anything and you're already hard again."

And as much Jimin wanted to protest it, it was true, her cock betraying her and standing almost at full hardness again.

"That's better," Minjeong said, finally slowing down once she was satisfied, "Much better."

She released Jimin's cock and shifted her position, moving from where she'd been straddling Jimin's legs to shuffling forward. She rose up on her knees, positioning herself directly over Jimin's lap, hovering just above her cock.

Jimin's breath caught, hands instinctively moving to Minjeong's hips.

Minjeong reached down and wrapped her hand around Jimin's cock again, angling it upward. Then, with agonising slowness, she rubbed the head against her pussy, dragging it through her wetness. Jimin jolted like she'd been shocked, her hips nearly thrusting upward on instinct before she managed to stop herself, fingers digging hard into Minjeong's hips.

"Fuck-" She gasped.

Minjeong didn't take any pity on her, continuing to tease Jimin, rubbing Jimin's cock against herself, letting the head catch against her entrance before sliding it back up again.

"What is it that you study again?" Minjeong asked suddenly, as if Jimin’s sanity wasn’t in the palm of her hands.

"W- What?" Jimin stammered, brain struggling to process the question.

"What do you study?" Minjeong repeated, "Your major."

"I, uh... Mechanical Engineering," Jimin managed weakly, the word coming out strangled.

"Hmm," Minjeong hummed, "Tell me more about it."

Jimin stared up at her, eyes wide and disbelieving. She couldn't have heard that right. There was no way Minjeong was asking her to explain her degree program right now.

"Did I stutter?" Minjeong asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Jimin said quickly, shaking her head, "No, you didn't, I just-"

"Then tell me." Minjeong said simply, positioning Jimin's cock at her entrance.

"I- Okay, um" Jimin's hands trembled where they gripped Minjeong's hips, "Mechanical Engineering is- it's the study of- of designing and analyzing mechanical systems-"

Her voice shook, words coming out uneven as she tried to focus on forming coherent sentences.

"It- it involves studying thermodynamics and- and fluid mechanics, and how- how forces and energy interact in- in physical systems-"

Without warning, Minjeong lowered herself.

The feeling of Minjeong sinking down onto her cock punched all the air out of Jimin's lungs. Her eyes flew open, a choked curse tearing from her throat as her hips jerked upward involuntarily, accidentally driving herself deeper into Minjeong's cunt.

"Fuck- Oh god-" Jimin gasped, fingers digging bruisingly into Minjeong's hips.

Minjeong didn't stop. She continued sinking down slowly, bit by bit, until she was fully seated, Jimin buried completely inside her. For a moment, they both stilled, Jimin's entire body trembling with the effort of not moving, of not immediately falling apart.

Minjeong raised her brows, chuckling internally as she took in Jimin's face.

"Did I tell you to stop?" She asked.

Jimin shook her head frantically, eyes squeezed shut as she tried to process the overwhelming sensation of being inside Minjeong, of the tight heat wrapped around her cock.

"Then why did you stop?" Minjeong pressed.

"I- I'm sorry, I just-" Jimin forced her eyes open, forced herself to try to think through the fog, "Mech- Mechanical Engineering also includes, um, it includes studying stress analysis and- and how materials-"

Her voice broke off into a whimper as Minjeong began to move.

It started slow, a deliberate roll of her hips that had Jimin seeing stars. Then Minjeong lifted herself up slightly before sinking back down, and Jimin's coherent thoughts shattered like a pane of glass.

"Oh fuck- Minjeong- Please, it's so tight, I can't-" She whined, head falling back against the headboard.

Her explanation had completely derailed into desperate rambling, words spilling out without any conscious control.

"Keep. Fucking. Explaining," Minjeong said, punctuating each word with a deliberate movement of her hips, "Or I'll stop right now."

The threat hit Jimin like ice water. Her hands tightened on Minjeong's hips, trying to hold her in place, but Minjeong just looked at her expectantly.

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry," Jimin gasped, trying desperately to pull her thoughts back together, "I- My specific focus is m- machine design and uh, and robotics-"

Minjeong continued riding her, her pace steady and unrelenting, each movement sending waves of pleasure through Jimin's body that made it nearly impossible to form words.

"We study- fuck- we study how components achieve, um- achieve their optimal configurations and- and how design flaws can lead to- to failures like f- fatigue fractures and-"

Her voice pitched higher as Minjeong ground down particularly hard, and she had to bite her lip to keep from completely losing the thread of what she was saying.

"There's also- also work with comp- um, computational modeling to predict how-" Jimin's sentences were coming out in short bursts now, timed between gasps, "How stress concentrations might, fuck, might affect structural integrity-"

She was vaguely aware that nothing she was saying made any actual sense anymore, that her explanation had devolved into a scattered mess of technical terms strung together with no real coherence, but she kept going because stopping meant Minjeong would stop and that seemed genuinely unbearable.

Then Minjeong's hands moved.

They slid up from where they'd been braced on Jimin's abdomen, fingers trailing over her stomach before moving to cup her breasts through her shirt. Jimin startled, a strangled sound escaping her as Minjeong's thumbs found her nipples, rubbing circles over them through the fabric.

"Keep going," Minjeong said, her own breathing slightly heavier now though her voice remained steady, "You were telling me about stress concentrations."

"Yes, right, yes, um, stress concentrations-" Jimin's voice cracked as Minjeong pinched one nipple lightly, "They can- can cause mechanical f- failures that affect how systems interact with, um, with other dynamic components and- Oh fuck-"

Minjeong's hands slipped under her shirt now, pushing the fabric up as her fingers found bare skin, and Jimin was fairly certain she was about to completely fall apart.

"And- and then there's the um- the role of actuators and sensors that help with pr- proper system control and-"

Her words cut off completely as pleasure on her nipples and cock overwhelmed her ability to think, her mouth hanging open as she panted.

The slap came without warning.

Minjeong's hand cracked across Jimin's breast, the sharp sting making Jimin cry out and thrust upward involuntarily, driving herself deeper into Minjeong's cunt.

"Fuck-!" Jimin moaned, the sound wanton and desperate.

"Fuck, of course you liked that," Minjeong said, her tone harsh, "This is just pitiful Jimin."

"Please, I'm sorry-" Jimin gasped automatically, her brain scrambling, assuming Minjeong wanted her to continue, so she picked back up immediately, "There are feedback control mech- mechanisms that identify system instabilities-"

"There we go, didn't even have to tell you to continue this time." Minjeong said cruelly, punctuating the statement with a particularly hard bounce that had Jimin seeing stars.

Despite everything, despite the overstimulation and the humiliation and the frankly impossible task of trying to explain mechanical engineering of all things while being fucked, Jimin's body began responding on instinct. Her hips started moving, small upward thrusts that matched Minjeong's rhythm.

"Errors in control systems can- can lead to the um, the accumulation of mechanical failures-" Jimin managed to get out, her voice strained and breaking.

She was finding a rhythm now, actually managing to string together somewhat coherent sentences even as she thrust up to meet Minjeong's movements.

Then Minjeong pulled off completely.

Jimin's cock slipped free, and for one horrible second there was nothing, just cold air and the desperate ache of lost contact. Before Jimin could process what was happening, Minjeong sank back down in one brutal motion, taking Jimin's entire length in a single go.

"Oh fuck- Minjeong- Please-" Jimin's explanation completely derailed into a high, desperate moan.

The slap across her face was even harder than the one to her breast.

Her head snapped to the side, cheek stinging, and the moan that tore from her throat was obscene. Her fingers dug into Minjeong's hips hard enough to definitely leave bruises, her grip almost painful as she held on. She grabbed Jimin's face, forcing her to look up. Her fingers pressed into Jimin's cheek where a red handprint was already blooming across the skin.

"Fuck me." Minjeong commanded, her voice low and strained now as well.

Jimin stared up at her, dazed and struggling to process the words through the fog of pleasure and pain.

"What?" She managed weakly.

"I said," Minjeong repeated, leaning in close enough that Jimin could feel her breath, "Fuck me."

Her nails dug slightly into Jimin's cheek, the sting grounding even as it made everything worse.

"Stop making me do all the work," Minjeong continued, "It’s your cock Jimin. Use it."

Jimin's brain short circuited, trying to grasp the despite the fact that she could barely think straight.

"I- Okay, yes-" She stammered, hands shifting on Minjeong's hips.

Jimin began to move, her hips lifting off the bed to thrust up into Minjeong. She tried to start slow, tried to maintain some semblance of control, but she lasted maybe all of five thrusts before something inside her snapped.

Her grip on Minjeong's hips tightened as she began fucking her hard and fast, all pretense of restraint completely abandoned. The bed frame knocked against the wall with each thrust, the sound obscene and unmistakable, but Jimin couldn't bring herself to care if anyone heard at that point.

"God- Minjeong, you feel so good, fuck," She babbled, words spilling out unfiltered, "Wanted this for so long, wanted you so bad-"

Her head fell forward, forehead pressed against Minjeong's collarbone as she continued driving up into her, desperate and uncoordinated but enthusiastic.

"Of course you have," Minjeong said, her voice still remarkably steady despite the way Jimin was fucking her, "I bet every time you fucked your fist, you imagined it was me, didn't you?"

"Yes-" Jimin gasped out without thinking, "Yes, god, yes, thought about you every time-"

Minjeong laughed, cruel and pleased.

"You’re pathetic," She said, though there was clear satisfaction in her tone, "Getting yourself off to the thought of me. How long have you been doing that, huh? Weeks? Months?"

Jimin couldn't answer, only whimpering as she continued her relentless pace, thrusting up into Minjeong's cunt over and over.

"That jacket I gave you," Minjeong continued, her voice taking on an even meaner edge, "It's probably covered in your cum by now, isn't it? Bet you’ve been using it to get off."

Jimin's silence was answer enough and Minjeong's laugh was genuinely cruel this time, her head tipping back as she enjoyed Jimin's humiliation.

"Oh my god," She said, "You actually did. You're such a fucking pervert."

"Couldn’t help it-" Jimin gasped, though she didn't slow her movements at all, "You smell so good and- and I just-"

"Maybe I should give you my panties next," Minjeong said, mocking Jimin, "Would you like that? Something else of mine to ruin while you get yourself off?"

Jimin's hips stuttered, a broken moan tearing from her throat.

"Please-" She gasped out, "Please, yes, I-"

She was too far gone to feel embarrassed anymore, too desperate to care how pathetic she sounded. Her thrusts became even more frantic, chasing the pleasure building in her core.

"Look at you," Minjeong continued, clearly enjoying herself now, "Begging for my dirty laundry like a dog. You really are desperate, aren't you?"

"Yes-" Jimin whimpered against Minjeong's skin, "Yes, please-"

"But is that really going to be enough?" Minjeong taunted, "Now that you know what my pussy feels like? Do you really think you're going to be satisfied going back to humping my clothes like some pathetic little virgin?"

Jimin shook her head frantically, tears beginning to spill down her cheeks from the overwhelming combination of pleasure and humiliation and desperate need.

"No-" She sobbed, "No, it won't, I need- I need you-"

"Look at you, crying," Minjeong cooed, though there was nothing kind about it, "So worked up you can't even control yourself."

She reached up to wipe one of Jimin's tears away with her thumb, then brought it to her own lips, licking the wetness off.

"Lucky for you," Minjeong continued, rolling her hips deliberately, "I like how good your cock feels. So I'll consider keeping you around. You know, when I need to get off and don't feel like doing it myself."

The words should have been degrading, hell, they were degrading, but they only made Jimin thrust harder, more desperately, her movements becoming increasingly sloppy as she chased her release.

"That's it," Minjeong taunted, watching Jimin fall apart beneath her, "Getting so desperate. So frantic. You're not going to last much longer, are you?"

"I'm close-" Jimin gasped, "I'm so close- Please-"

"Please what?" Minjeong asked, though the slight breathlessness in her own voice betrayed that she wasn't as unaffected as she was pretending.

"Please let me-" Jimin's words caught on a sob, "Please-"

"You wanna cum inside me?" Minjeong egged Jimin on, "Wanna fill me up?"

"Yes- Please," Jimin nodded frantically, her hips stuttering, "Please, I want to- wanna fill you up- Need to-"

She couldn't finish the sentence, she could barely think through the overwhelming need consuming her.

"Then do it," Minjeong provoked, "Cum in me."

The permission made something click inside Jimin. Her thrusts became even more frantic, completely uncoordinated now, just desperate rutting as she chased her orgasm. Her fingers dug bruisingly into Minjeong's hips, her face pressed against Minjeong's shoulder, tears still streaming down her face.

"I'm gonna- I'm- Oh Fuck-" She gasped.

Minjeong could feel it, could feel Jimin tensing beneath her, could feel the way her cock was throbbing inside her. She let out a choked moan before she drove deep inside Minjeong, as deep as she could possibly go, and came with a broken cry.

Her cock pulsed as she emptied herself inside Minjeong, her whole body shaking with the intensity of it. She held Minjeong tight against her, hips still making small, involuntary thrusts as she rode out her orgasm. The feeling of Jimin finishing inside her, the desperate way she was clinging to her, the broken sounds she was making, it pushed Minjeong over the edge a moment later.

Her cunt clenched tight around Jimin's cock, her own orgasm washing over her as she ground down hard, taking Jimin as deep as possible. She felt herself flutter around Jimin, felt the way her body gripped her cock as if trying to milk every last drop from her.

"Fuck-" Minjeong gasped, the first crack in her composure as pleasure rolled through her.

She rode it out, hips still moving in small circles as aftershocks made her thighs tremble, cum slightly leaking out Jimin’s cock. They stayed like that for a few minutes, both of them breathing heavily, Jimin still buried deep inside Minjeong as they came down from their highs. Jimin's grip on Minjeong's hips had loosened, her hands now resting there gently, almost apologetically, knowing Minjeong would have marks on her hips for a few days.

Finally, Minjeong shifted, lifting herself slowly off Jimin's cock with a soft sound, the loss of contact making Jimin whimper quietly as well. 

Minjeong looked down, seemingly unbothered by the mess, and reached between her legs. She gathered some of whatever had leaked out on her fingers, bringing them up to examine them for a moment before deliberately licking them clean.

Jimin watched, transfixed and still dazed, as Minjeong's tongue worked over her fingers.

Then Minjeong leaned forward and kissed her.

It was different from the kisses before, slower, deeper, and Jimin could taste herself on Minjeong's tongue. Her brain cut out all over again, hands coming up weakly to rest on Minjeong's waist.

Just as suddenly as she'd initiated it, Minjeong pulled back.

She climbed off the bed with steady movements, seemingly unaffected by the fact that she was naked and covered in a mixture of sweat and other bodily fluids, and she began searching for her clothes, finding her top first and pulling it over her head.

She found her panties next, bending down and picking them up from where they'd been discarded, and tossed them directly at Jimin.

They hit Jimin in the chest before falling into her lap.

"As promised." Minjeong said, winking at Jimin with a mean little smile playing on her lips.

She pulled on her shorts next, the denim sitting directly against her bare cunt. Jimin watched as Minjeong shifted slightly, adjusting to the feeling of the rough fabric rubbing against her.

"Hurry up and get dressed." Minjeong said, turning to look at Jimin expectantly.

Jimin blinked, still trying to process everything, but scrambled to listen. She pushed herself up on shaky legs, almost stumbling as she reached for her own clothes, her jeans still inside out from how frantically she'd removed them earlier.

She tugged them on clumsily, stuffing Minjeong's panties into her pocket quickly, hoping Minjeong hadn’t noticed how eagerly she’d done that.

"Are we-" Jimin started, her voice slightly hoarse, "Are we going back to the party?"

"No." Minjeong said simply, already moving toward the door.

Jimin paused, confusion crossing her face as she tried to figure out what that meant. If they weren't going back to the party, then where-

Minjeong glanced back at her and laughed at the look on Jimin’s face.

"We're going back to my place," She said, "To continue this properly."

She unlocked the door and pulled it open, the muffled sound of music and voices from the party filtering in.

"Unless you'd rather stay here?" Minjeong added, raising an eyebrow.

"No!" Jimin said quickly, nearly tripping over her own feet as she hurried to follow, "No, I'm- I'm coming."

Minjeong's smile widened as she led the way out of Aeri’s room, Jimin trailing behind her like an eager puppy, still flushed and disheveled and completely and utterly under her spell.