truth is… i’ve been SO busy with work, school + personal life (wink wink) so i haven’t had time to interact with you all :((
i hope i can post a drabble of mine that’s been sitting in my drafts to tide you guys over and buy me some extra time to write the next part of the zephyr series <3
i miss u cho n everybody else ,, i will be back vv soon bbies !! :3
❤︎ 𝒿eongin can’t seem to keep his hands to himself . . .
♪ ﹒﹒ bf!𝒿eongin ﹠ 𝒻!reader . ݁˖ ♡
ⓘ smut, alcohol mentions, cursing, petnames, unprotected sex (nono), creampie, mating press, possessive!jeongin, han cameo ﹒﹒ 🎼 𝓌ritten . 1𝓀
𝓉o 𝓎ou ◞ the long awaited smut draft is finally here ! kinda short & i still don’t like it but i hope you do hehe … ♡ + ⟲ & enjoy!
contrary to popular belief, the so called “shy maknae” is anything but “shy” when it comes to you.
jeongin is well aware of how his members, and most of the world see him. a soft, sweet, cute and reserved persona that he can’t seem to ever escape. it’s a true rarity for him to willingly hold his hands out to another person, preferring to keep to himself. he’s grown accustomed to the touches and flicks, pats on the back and hair ruffles from the boys he knows and loves, but even then, he could still call himself a bit iffy with that sort of contact, pushing it away when he feels like it.
but with you? handsy.
jeongin is actually a greedy, possessive, handsy man. everything he supposedly is “against” goes straight out of the window, a seal he cracked open himself when he met you. yes, he loves to cuddle, to kiss and hold hands witj you in moments, which are in private for the most part. but he also has made you keenly aware that his hands love to claim what’s his.
he starts it off cutely innocent. small brushes against your spine, a smoothly undetectable grip behind your neck that lasts only a second. get him somewhere he feels comfortable, and he’s the definition of hands on.
tonight, it’s only a smallish party. him and the other seven, you, and some close friends in the industry to celebrate yet another win in their largely ever growing career. some music bumps in the background, and your dress sparkles underneath the low lights whenever your shimmery perfume catches them. a half empty martini glass sits to your left, extra olives completely gone, and to your right sits a very happy han jisung with something disgustingly fruity in his cup. where’d he get the good stuff?
and behind you is jeongin. your dressed up, sober boyfriend who’s silently laughing at how you considered a martini to be a snack instead of a drink.
“baby, you could’ve just ordered something. they have food.” he says with a soft touch to your side, grazing a finger over the folds of fabric by your hip.
“a martini is food, maknae... olives. duh.”
han jumps in the conversation with a jumbled “olives are nasty”, but you’re too busy focusing on jeongin to spit a witty response back.
because jeongin won’t stop touching you.
he’s muttering soft conversation, with some words exchanged between him and his supposed hyung, who acts younger when drunkened, and his actual older members who gather in the vicinity at empty stools and seats. most wouldn’t even take a second glance at jeongins mannerisms. but you do.
he gets experimental with his fingertips, one just barely slipping under the fabric he was just touching, retreating shortly afterward only to get bolder with every second. his hand glides up, then back, then down until he lands a soft pat to the plush of your bottom.
“no, hyung. i’m driving her home, so i’m not drinking.” he says. you hear someone, maybe minho, say something about having good responsibility. little does he know jeongin is nowhere near responsible with the lewd mind he carries, and with the way he’s practically groping you in front of his friends.
now he’s rubbing his hands up and down your arms, soft and slow with the sweetest kiss to the side of your neck, but you can feel the devilish intent hidden in his lips.
you’re getting hot and bothered now. you’re past the point of it being just the alcohol, that reasoning considered hysterical by this time. your face is turning flushed and rosy, and you use your manicured hands to cover it as much as possible. jisung would never let you hear the end of it.
“i like this dress on you..” is a honeyed compliment that slips from jeongins mouth next, his touch softening with that same hold he’s had on your hips.
“i think the bartender does too.”
and as quick to come to a revelation as you usually are, you finally see why jeongin has had his grasp on you the entire night. the way the rest of this party will go is already mapped out right in front of you.
jeongin can be handsy for some reasons. because he wants to have you close, because he missed you, because he’s feeling soft and needy. or, because he’s jealous.
“baby, let’s go home, okay?” jeongin feigns an innocent voice in case the rest of the boys hear him, but he leans down for only you to listen next.
“im the one who knows how that dress looks when it’s off, anyway.”
⸝⸝⸝
which now leads you to here, in your shared apartment, with jeongin pressed so closely against you that you can feel his rapid heartbeat against your own.
he’s all over you, all inside you, with every bit of skin you have being touched, caressed, and exposed eagerly as he pulls your dress off like he promised back at the party.
“why’re you so soft— huh? tell me baby..” he asks, feeling you up with graspy palms that don’t ever stop.
you can’t answer because he’s fucking the voice right out of you.
slow, deep thrusts that have unspoken words of possession and power behind them, your hands bound by your head in one of his.
“i—i don’t kno—jeong…” is all you can muster. you can feel him deep, feel his ragged breathing against your ear, and feel his hands touching you in places that really are only meant to be private.
“speak up, pretty. i can’t hear you o-over that whining.” but you can definitely hear him. he’s losing himself, clear as day, and you’re not far behind.
jeongin moves so his palms cup the back of your knees, pushing slightly down into a press that has you seeing stars on your dark ceiling. “fuck ! jeong—in!”
“you’re mine, aren’t you baby? cum on me so i know it.”
and fuck, you could forget about his hands when he has a mouth like that and a stroke so deep.
you finish soon after with a taught coil that snaps all over him, grasping at the sheets in an attempt to bring yourself back to earth. he follows behind, sounding with a low grumbly whine and hot stickiness that fills you up and drips out of the sides.
“so pretty… feel so good… i love you… so good…” he’s mumbling to himself, coming down to lay on you without his full weight that could crush, breathing hot onto your cheek where he plants a kiss not long afterward.
yes, he knows where to touch to get you going, what to grab when he has you. but he also knows where to hold you when you’re finished.
cleaning you up softly, taking a bubble filled bath, and keeping you close with a little thank you when you’re back in bed. all the while, his hands haven’t left you once, lingering on your skin with his fingertips that draw patterns to soften his previous actions.
“you must really love me. you’re like… a tic.” you joke quietly, smiling to yourself in the dark thinking he can’t see you.
jeongin laughs a breath through his nose that tickles the back of your neck.
tysm for 200 followers!! i am so so thankful for all of you guys and the support that you have given me since i began posting all the way back in february - i hope i can continue to be a writer you can keep coming back to time and time again <3 i love u all !!
sorry for not being active guys i’m on break and ya girl has found herself in another… situation! but i pinky promise i’ll try to post something <3 love u all
practice was supposed to start any minute now, and yet here you are, on your knees in front of the floor length mirror, hyunjin ruthlessly pounding you from behind. he had a strong grip on your hair, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him through the mirror. a cocky grin was plastered across his face, his ego sky rocketing as he watched you come undone right in front of him on his cock.
“feel me deep inside you baby?” he raised an eyebrow at you and you felt butterflies fill your stomach, “squeezing me so tight, your pussy feels so fucking good. you like the thought of someone walking in on us, huh?”
you nodded as much as his grip in your hair would let you. your pussy grew wetter at the thought of another member or staff walking in on you, seeing your boyfriend fuck you senseless, claiming you as his. strings of drool dripped onto the floor from your swollen lips.
“fuck hyunjin..! need more!” you gasped out between moans, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.
he tsked, “more? dirty girl needs more?” his thrusts quickened, the filthy sound of wet skin slapping echoing throughout the room. you had no idea how no one hadn’t heard or walked in yet.
his length rubbed against your walls deliciously, stuffing you full. his tip repeatedly hitting your g-spot, driving you crazy. you could feel that thick vein that runs up the underneath of his shaft, feel every pulse, feel every little drop of pre cum that dripped from his sensitive tip.
hyunjin reached around to wrap his arm around your shoulders and pull you into his chest. the new found angle giving him better access to your g-spot, making you see stars.
“look at yourself baby, look at how pretty you look when you’re getting fucked by me.”
your eyes met your own in the mirror, taking in your disheveled state. your skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead when it wasn’t being held back by hyunjin. your cheeks were tinted pink and you watched as strings of your arousal dripped from your pussy. then your eyes drifted to hyunjin, his demeanor matching yours. his eyes were dark, dominating, possessive. he had you caged against his chest, right where he wanted, right where you belonged.
“oh my god hyune! gonna cum, g-gonna cum!” you cried out, giving up on trying to be secretive.
he brushed your hair off your neck, lips pressing against the sensitive skin, “cum for me muse.”
his words set you off and you came hard around him. your body shook, your thighs clenched together with the impact of your orgasm, but hyunjins lips stayed pressed against your neck. he was sucking pretty purple bruises all across your neck, marking you as his.
his own climax wasn’t far behind yours and he bit down in one of the bruises as he thrusted hard into you, shooting his seed deep inside your swollen pussy. his warm cum filled up your little cunny and you felt it drip out of your pussy and make a mess on the dance floor beneath you two. hyunjins kisses turned more sweet as you both rode out your climaxes, trailing over the bruises and up to your cheeks.
he whispered soft praises in your ears, waiting for your breathing to slow down before he made any crazy movements, “did so good for me baby, always so good for me. you kept so quiet huh? sweet girl made me feel so good, the best girl ever.”
you leaned back to press your lips against his, giggling slightly into the kiss, the praise making you embarrassed and your cheeks glowing for a whole new reason now.
when hyunjins grip on your shoulders loosened, you leaned back down and let his cock pull out with a wet sound. you whimpered at the loss for just a second before you heard someone fiddling with the door knob, immediately snapping you out of whatever post nut daze you were in.
the two of you scrambled to pull back on your pants, try and make yourself as presentable as possible before anyone saw you. just in the nick of time, you pulled your hair over your shoulders, making a poor attempt to try and cover the hickies as the door flew open.
everyone filed in, not really paying much mind to anything as they set down their stuff and continued on with their conversations. but changbin, ever so observant, quietly took in your guys’s scruffy appearances. hyunjins pants still unbuttoned, your tangled hair, the fact that both of your guys’s lips were swollen and red and as he looked down he noticed the little wet droplets on the floor.
you both were convinced you had everyone fooled, until changbin sauntered over with a smirk and leaned in close to you two.
he was kind enough to keep his voice low to save you the embarrassment, “next time you guys have a little extra practice, make sure you properly clean it up.”
in which; jeongin is ready to go all in but you're not going to take the bait without a bit of a fight beforehand.
word count: 8.6k
genre: fluff/smut
pairing: fuckboy! jeongin x f! reader
warnings: orgasm denial (just once!), size kink, praise kink, teensy bit of a scent kink (oooo not so vanilla now are we), protected sex (stay safe bbies), brief mentions of the use of recreational drugs? alcohooool galooore
notes: 2/8 done — yaaaay i hope you enjoy this ^^ sorry for the long wait, this got waaaay longer than i thought it would be ahaha
this is the second part of my zephyr series! the fics are all standalones, but all adopt the atmosphere from the album ‘Zephyr’ by NIKI.
jeongin is not what people would consider a ‘gentleman’.
hell, ninety percent of the girls he’s been with would support that motion and the other ten would not even know his name, but would still be able to pick him out of a lineup as one of the biggest manwhores alive. in a nutshell, he’s railed basically everyone in your sorority.
but who’s to say a man can’t change?
on the other hand, he’s well-versed in your character to the point that it disgusts him that he knows you so well. you’ve had the odd conversation here and there — largely due to how infamous he is among the girls at your college — so he really shouldn’t know as much as he does.
suffice to say, he has a massive crush on you.
so debilitating in fact that he gets dizzy even thinking about you. when you walk past him in the crowded hallways of the arts and humanities building, you smell vaguely of citrus and something else he can’t place, but regardless, your scent riles him up like crazy.
usually, he’s a smooth-talking ladies man (or something of that nature) but when he’s around you, he can barely hold down a conversation without noticing the blood rushing into his cheeks and his dick.
he’s far from awkward, but even hyunjin pointed out that there’s some tremble in his voice when you’re in his eye line. and hyunjin could barely see a neon yellow sign the size of his body even if it was two centimetres away from his face.
whatever the cause is, he is nowhere near enough confident around you to ever tell you how he feels sober.
so maybe it’s the brownie seungmin gave him a couple hours ago that sends him to your door in a daze.
even though he’s high off his mind, evidenced by the way his eyes have turned square and his rumbling stomach, a part of him feels as though he has never felt more clear-headed in his life.
bouquet of flowers in hand, he knocks hastily on your door and stares at his reflection in the double-glazed window in front of him. he uses his fingers to ruffle his hair but is cut short by you opening the door.
“jeongin?”
he gulps. “y/n.”
his eyes widen.
you’re standing there in the doorway, wearing a tank top with a hot pink push-up bra underneath that fits so well, in fact, that your breasts are peeking out from behind the neckline. one of the straps is falling off your shoulder and he takes a look at the bottom half of your body. your shorts are cut so daringly short at your mid-thigh that he has to take a step back.
“jeongin, what is it? you’ve got a wet t-shirt contest tomorrow and i’ve gotta hit the books to avoid the mid-morning rush in the library,”
your tone is no-nonsense and forbids any lame excuse that he had been conspiring on the way there. folding your arms, you look him up and down with a judgemental expression.
“who are those for?” you remark, motioning towards the bundle of flowers that he is cradling in his arms.
“please don’t tell me they’re for cassandra, she is so much better off without you, full offence,”
he shrugs. “all taken? listen,”
“no you listen,”
like you flipped a switch, he closes his mouth and gives you the opportunity to speak.
“you don’t get to screw half of the girls in our cohort and think for a second that you are worth anybody’s time,”
admittedly, the truth hurts.
maybe you are right: maybe he doesn’t deserve stability after trying (and succeeding at) wooing every girl on campus, maybe he shouldn’t be following his dick wherever it points him, maybe he wouldn’t have even had a shot at committing to a girl anyways.
or maybe he should start trusting his instincts — the ones that weren’t just based off boners, at least — and fess up.
either way, his mouth moves faster than his brain does.
“y/n, i think i’m in love with you,”
your breath hitches at the revelation. could your university’s resident fuckboy really want to throw it all away for some girl he barely knew?
that question alone sends you back into reality. a reality where he wouldn’t ask you out unless the relationship would be transactional.
“goodnight, jeongin—”
“wait! wait, wait, wait,” he reaches his palm out and waves it around in front of the door that you began to close.
“i’m being honest here,”
incredulous, you scoff. “as honest as my ass,”
the drugged-up horniness causes him to take a quick glance at your ass by poking his head through the threshold of the door. “looks pretty honest to me.”
“yeah don’t piss me off,”
he cuts you off before you can say another word that’ll bruise his ego.
“these are for you.”
jeongin stretches his hand out and, as promised, hands them to you. what catches your eye is the small card folded on top, so you take it and clutch in one hand, holding it to your side.
“uh, thanks… now what do you want?”
he furrows his brows, but amidst his confusion, he maintains his patience. “i already told you.”
the way he says it is final, which makes you feel insecure of what you’re wearing all of a sudden.
you lean in, still at least a metre away from him, whispering, “we can’t let fraternity boys in. it’s against sister policy,”
“then step outside?”
“why should i?” your arms return to their crossed position, cocking an eyebrow and squinting your eyes.
jeongin has never been more desperate for a girls’ attention — and that takes a lot. usually, just seeing a girl wearing a top that exposes her shoulder is enough to get him started. luckily, in spite of his reputation, he still manages to land many of the ladies he wants as soon as he wants them.
he is not used to being pressed with further questions.
after searching your eyes briefly for some sort of weakness, he comes up empty and sidesteps into the house, sprinting to the room at the very back of the place. taking a sharp left, he outruns you while you slink behind, still grasping the stalks of the flowers in your hand.
when you arrive at the only room at the end of that corridor, the lights are off and the door slams shut.
“jeongin, what the fu—?”
his palm covers your mouth and he uses his free hand to flick the light switch.
his eyes are wider now, pupils constricting at the sudden burst of light. like an overexcited animal, jeongin butts his head into the door, stamping his feet to flank your own.
you’ve turned your head away, taking deep breaths that are almost in sync with his own.
“i’m not looking for a one-night stand,” you stay firm.
he slowly twists the top of his head into the panels, inching closer to your ear.
“neither am i,” he murmurs.
jeongin momentarily thinks to himself that even a thirsty man in a desert would be able to stave off the need for water better than he’s handling this.
he needs you. he’s not sure in what way, but he wants to take you in every way possible regardless.
too many times has he let the chance to confess his feelings slip, too many times has he been too afraid to say anything to you, too many times has he smelled that stupid perfume behind your neck while at school — it’s even more stupid now that he can smell it on your collarbone. lips inches away from the base of your neck, you flex your back and push yourself back into the sturdy door.
“i’m not looking to be a temporary fix to your persistent problems,”
his breath catches. “neither am i,”
testing the waters, his tongue swipes against bone and the sensation feels electric.
with a shaky exhale, you resist the urge to knot your fingers into the back of his head.
“i’m not looking for you,”
you finally look at him, practically collapsing to the floor with raw need. it’s not just lust that can nourish this desire, it’s something more than that. but how could you believe somebody who has only been driven by blind desire?
“i can’t say the same about you.”
you straighten your back, sending him into a stumble backwards into a washing machine. however, instead of being annoyed by where he’s ended up, he seems unbothered. that’s the limit, though.
everything on his face signals a total loss of self-control. he’s leaning back on his elbows, out-of-breath, face flushed.
“how did you know to run to the laundry room?”
that questions snaps him out of whatever daze he was in previously. “i’m a bit embarrassed to admit why,”
“oh yeah,” you have an amused smirk on your face.
“who was it again? nina, lisa…?”
“jenny,” he corrects you, gauchely turning pale in every part of his face sans his cheeks which still rage on in a splotchy pink.
“a-ha, the other two you did at your frat house?”
briefly, he casts his mind to the moments he spent with them but shakes his head in repulsion.
“you can’t ask me that! this is not what i’m here for,”
as it stands, the boy who cries fidelity is never believed when he attempts to fess up to the truth of his feelings.
instead of believing him, you roll your eyes contemptuously. “stop being so loud and tell me the truth,”
“i am!”
“who are these flowers really for? seriously, i’ll pass them on.”
for a moment, jeongin thinks of giving this whole thing up. it was stupid anyways.
but so is he.
“there’s a note somewhere in there that tells you all you need to know,”
he masks his impatience with an annoyed smile and a sideward glance to the washing basket hung on the wall.
when he looks back, you’re examining a small white card.
“hm… more expensive than i expected from a broke college frat boy with no respect for women, but certainly not a good enough price if you’re trying to impress a girl, that’s for sure,”
abandoning all common sense, jeongin snatches the flowers and takes the rectangular piece of paper, reading it for himself.
“shit, the message must’ve— gotten— lost, or something,”
you scrunch your lips together and try to hide any and every semblance of your own amusement.
“y/n, listen,” he places the flowers on the washing machine.
“it’s stupid of you to even let me in—”
“—you let yourself in,” you correct him matter-of-factly.
taking note of your ‘astute’ observation, he revises the sentence hastily while trying to remember his train of thought.
“regardless, it’s stupid that i’m even here,”
“that’s right,”
he narrows his eyes but collects himself, looking back at the flowers and then at the watch on his wrist: it was midnight. you probably had assignments due — hell, he had about five that were overdue and they were all extended deadlines — so he had to make this quick.
the issue is he has never cared about a girl this much before. so, what comes out of his mouth next is out of his own impatient volition.
“i love you so much that i don’t want to have sex with you.”
wow, he should’ve thought about how to word it more thoroughly.
keeling over in laughter, you struggle to choke back the tears that are fighting their way out and he shakes his head frantically, as though it would erase what he just said.
“no, no, what i meant is— god— i think i like you so much that i don’t want to have sex with anyone but you!”
his overextended effort to defend what little dignity and credibility he has does almost nothing to calm you down, but a part of you tells you that this is in fact not a fever dream.
“well, if this isn’t a development,” you step closer.
his eyes search yours desperately to try to find anything besides complete incredulity.
“i’ve never seen a man so desperate to get his dick sucked that he’s pulled out the ‘i’m in love with you’ act.”
“it’s pathetic, i know…”
he begins to reason with you, perhaps demonstrate how genuine he’s trying to be whilst simultaneously acknowledging reasons as to why you won’t trust him and also why you should just give him a chance, but you cut him off.
you don’t say anything.
you just get as close as you can and lower yourself downwards, knees hitting the floor.
all of a sudden, jeongin can’t breathe. he feels the air in the room being sucked out and he just looks down at you.
even if he hadn’t caught feelings for you, he knew he would’ve enjoyed the sight if it ever came to this. your hair flowed over your shoulders and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach out, tucking one stray strand behind your ear.
you look up, eyes wide and innocent. it’s like you knew all he could think about was how bad he wanted to fuck you. how bad he wanted to cuddle you, take you on dates, reassure you. how bad he wished he could do both for the rest of his life.
“can i be of any help?” the sultry tone of your voice sending chills down his spine with every micro-movement of your head keeping him on edge.
scrambling for purchase, he nods and swallows so hard that his adam’s apple becomes visible, bobbing up and down through the walls of his throat.
you place your hand on his thigh.
this was a regular tuesday for him — in the laundry room of delta chi with a girl about to give him some life-changing head that he most certainly did not deserve.
today was not a regular tuesday.
readjusting your position, your hand flies off his thigh and ties his undone shoelaces before rising back up.
“rest assured, i don’t think i will be of any help to you at all.”
you tap his shoulder twice and motion for him to follow you out. when he does so, his movements are so robotic, it looks like he’s been hypnotised, so you try your best not to kick the man while he’s down.
he walks through the door, bowing his head slightly as though he will knock it on the edge of the nine foot frame, and turns around slowly.
defeated, he says, “keep the flowers.”
“sure,”
one last scan of your frame and he’s halfway down the porch steps. while closing the door, something dawns on you.
impulsively, you call out to him. “wait, one more thing,”
you’ve zoned out completely, but you’re almost certain his eyes catch the light of the foyer’s chandelier peeking out through the small crack you’ve left in the door.
“i can’t figure out what you came here to say…i figured that it must’ve just been the weed brownie speaking,”
he snarls in disbelief, but all malice quickly dissipates and a wide grin takes over.
“nah, it was just a really good brownie.”
jeongin turns back around and bends his arm, saluting you playfully. “see you around, y/n.”
“hopefully not, yang jeongin!”
—
for jeongin, the door slammed shut on the idea of banging you two days ago.
for you, the door wasn’t even open.
but he wasn’t a quitter, far from it.
he figured that he just needed to give you some time to warm up to the thought, but he anticipated that you’d be quite cold to the idea, and today proved just that.
all year, all the brothers of kappa gamma phi and sisters of delta chi could think about was the annual basically-dating-for-charity event, aptly given the name of the ‘NO BETTER TIME FOR LOVE’ competition.
but why did so many people eagerly await its arrival each year?
well, it was for the sole reason of breaking rules, which was something that most could get away with without feeling too much guilt anyways, but at least the action was more than permissible during the contest.
the rules in question?
it was typically against the ethos of both groups to date people from other fraternities and sororities; however, this one day in the social calendar required people to partner up based on their own discretion, and this meant actually befriending the people from the other houses.
most people used this time to make moves on their crushes who would otherwise be out of bounds and hookup if all went smoothly. jeongin would know, he had been doing the very same thing for the past two years: although, his methods were more than unorthodox, asking multiple girls and stringing each one along, ending up more than satisfied before, during and after the contest.
each delta chi girl had to pair up with a kappa gamma phi bro and complete a series of games, ranging from general knowledge quizzes to physically demanding challenges — and the catch? win as many as you can with one of your hands tied to the other person’s.
this meant no personal space, no cheating and no limits.
“so, y/n…”
you turn around at the sound of his voice.
“i heard through the grapevine that you don’t have a partner yet for NBTFL, is that true?”
here was your worst nightmare, a frat guy who fucked almost every girl within a two mile radius, standing behind you, basically threatening to spend the whole day with you.
yes, he was charming. yes, he was good looking. yes, he was too much of those things that it overshadowed all of his very flagrant shortcomings.
“what’s it to you?”
he chuckles, air coming out in strong exhales, completely opposing the previously shaky breaths from the other night. “you’re prettier and meaner in the daylight,”
“you’re more of an idiot in the daylight,” you fire back, turning away.
like some sick joke, he grabs your wrist and pulls you in towards him. "an idiot who doesn't quit,"
"not to burst your bubble or anything, but i don't think i'm gonna be participating this year, flower boy,"
caught off-guard, he positions himself closer to your body while you make a futile attempt to wriggle out of his grasp.
"flower boy? that's certainly a nickname. and, y’know, wouldn't you like to join me and win this thing?"
he raises his eyebrows twice to persuade you, but if there was one thing that jeongin didn't know about you yet was when you said something, you meant it.
"with you?" you cackle.
and if there was one thing you didn't know about jeongin is that he is more than persistent. it's like he lets every negative insult you throw his way ricochet off him like the way bullets bounce off armour.
"i think that we'd make a good team, y/n,"
“a team doesn’t work if there’s only one person who believes in it,”
he lets go of your wrist, still smiling. “if you change your mind, find me. i’ll be near the punch.”
“so you can pick up more girls?”
“none of them would be a valuable asset.
“unless…”
“unless…?”
when the words leave your mouth, you stare at him, realising what trap you just fell for by showing your interest in hearing his answer. you cringe at the thought.
“unless they were you.”
there it is.
“anyways, see you around, y/n!”
he waves enthusiastically before running to a group of his friends, smile getting wider upon seeing you put two fingers to both of your temples and rubbing them so hard that your nail beds turned white.
hopefully not, yang jeongin.
soon after at midday, the sun is hanging high above the lawn at delta chi sorority and the grass is populated with fifty or so keen participants of this year’s NBTFL contest.
since your interaction with jeongin in the morning, you’ve changed into this year’s colour for the girls. layered with your sheer blue wraparound blouse, plunging neckline showing off your breasts just enough to expose your cleavage, and the shortest shorts you could find in your closet. promiscuity always guaranteed high donations. the fabric was prettily bedazzled with rhinestones and delicately embroidered with white thread — something you had made at some crafting retreat with the girls over the spring break. before you left your room, you swept your hair up into a less-than-neat updo with an acrylic claw clip in the shape of a hibiscus flower.
“real… summery,” jeongin raises his eyebrows, hands naturally finding a trail from your lower back to your waist.
you indulge in the moment. “here’s a real summary — stay away from me, how about that?”
“one’s word play is another man’s foreplay,”
his inadvertent charm, seemingly sincere lack of self-awareness: it’s laughable. to the delight of his ego, you make the mistake of letting out a soft chuckle.
“ha, see! there’s that smile,”
“lay off, do you even know how to spell foreplay?” you scoff.
taking a good look at him, he too also looks prettier in the daylight. his cheekbones looked razor sharp, blades of hair fanning over his forehead. jeongin’s adam’s apple is so prominent that, when he’s waiting for you to retort, it bobs about five inches up and down in one swallow. the oversized white shirt, pink sweatpants — anybody else would look stupid looking like that — and yet, he still pulls it off.
the thought of holding hands with the manwhore of kappa gamma phi for an entire day flashes across your mind. every snack, every beverage, every toilet break would be eaten, drank and spent with yang jeongin.
three days ago, that would have been a hard pass. even in this moment, you so badly wanted to say no, more so than before.
“what’s in it for me, flower boy?”
to be fair, it just comes out of your mouth before you can think it through. you’ve heard that he’s done worse.
“glory. my hand in yours. maybe more?”
“in your dreams.”
“so it’s a no?”
“you expected a yes?”
something changes in his eyes — you’re unsure of what it is. all you know is your heart wavers a little in reaffirming your decision to say no and that your top is exposing way too much of your chest in front of the hungriest, horniest bastard in school.
“i’m in this for the long game, y/nnie,”
“so we’ve got six hours to win this thing?” you’re still struggling to obscure your cleavage and ultimately give up.
jeongin laughs to himself and stoops down to your height, lips ghosting the shell of your ear.
“if you think that’s how i’d play the long game, you’re so adorably wrong.”
“oh, so five hours then?”
you feel his breath on the back of your neck and shudder instinctively. were you really about to do this? every last brain cell of yours was screaming, begging for you to follow logic, but your intuition had a good feeling about it in some twisted, masochistic way.
if you get to hook up with jeongin, it might be something life-changing; you might actually get the hype. not that it would ever come to that. either way, you still plan on making the next hours feel like hell for him. because doing that would actually give you answers about what happened that night in the laundry room. it would also be very entertaining to see him all riled up and take away what he so badly wants at the last second.
“i’m gonna go get a drink and do a round before they start rallying up the teams and such. want anything?”
“maybe just a beer.”
his unassuming glance turns into something more serious. “that won’t hinder your movements?”
“a sorority girl sees alcohol as an asset. you frat guys see it as a be-all end-all to your boredom.”
“read me like a book there — you gonna keep flirting with me, hm?”
“hopefully not, yang jeongin.”
he snickers, taking a few steps back, taking you in with a sigh. “you’ve got a new catchphrase now, y/nnie.”
“and you’ve got a new nickname flower boy.”
—
“who’s ready for the 25th annual No Better Time For Love Contest in support of our school union?”
everybody cheers, but yours is cut short by a more-than-friendly hand on your hip. jeongin hands you a beer and rubs your skin between his fingertips, practically gathering you flush against the side of his chest. it’s almost like he wants people to stare at you two.
“now, i know you’ve all gotten into pairs already, but i’m something of an avid hunger games fan,”
it’s han jisung on the mic this year, the lead event organiser of kappa gamma phi, jeongin’s senior and, knowing the president of delta chi, she’s probably giving head to whoever her partner is supposed to be across town or getting absolutely wasted on ‘pre-game’ shots across the lawn.
“and, for twenty bucks in the cash pot in the name of your team - why is this such an important year?”
maybe it’s the middle school you who urges you to shout it out but the silence amongst the crowd was getting too awkward to bear. “it’s a quarter quell!”
“who said that? who said that?” he grins, pointing into random areas of the crowd until he spots you waving excitedly.
“and what does a quarter quell entail, miss?”
for a brief moment, jeongin’s touch casts your mind elsewhere, but you regain focus and exclaim, “a change to the stakes, selection or competition!”
“yes! except with less grotesque violence, dictatorship and scavenging! wow, you must have a real lucky partner,”
he raises his eyebrows at the partner in question, smiling so contently that anybody who isn’t already in the know about his womanising behaviours would assume he’s the mildest person ever. you look up at him, placing a hand on his heart and leaning closer into him.
“he sure is!”
“thank you miss, for being the only culturally aware person here — anyways, so here’s the catch…”
you can feel jeongin side-eyeing you and all is confirmed when you check your peripheral vision.
cocking your head upwards, stroking his chest now, you challenge him. “what? i can be perky when i want to be.”
jeongin is still looking at jisung, but he speaks through the corner of his mouth, still donning that charming smile with those irritatingly cute dimples.
“you’re always perky,” his eyes drift down to your boobs and quickly return to looking at jisung.
“—y/nnie.” he adds.
the name of endearment feels less heartwarming after he’s just admitted that he likes your breasts.
“how classy.” you remark, folding your arms together.
jisung’s voice cuts through. “not only is there going to be a prize for the most money pledged in the name of the teams,”
“but this year, there will be a chance for a male and female MVP title, as well as the best couple prize, as voted by non-participants of the game!”
chatter springs up in pockets but jisung shushes them with a cough. “more prizes to be won and they can be won by you guys, so keep the money coming and let’s start this thing!”
jisung’s right-hand man, minho, starts spraying water with a super soaker all over people in the crowd, the liquid evaporating almost immediately upon hitting skin, sending everybody into a frenzy.
“please listen carefully!” he’s shouting over the raucous.
seungmin, the frat treasurer, brings out an airhorn from what seems to be thin air and sounds two long bursts of pure noise that silence all sixty people in the crowd. they must have anticipated that the turnout would be crazy since they had never used such methods to control the crowd — either that, or wonpil, the old president of kappa gamma phi (who also happened to be seungmin’s older brother) had some words of wisdom for the new leadership team. whatever it was, it was effective.
jisung, fresh from fearfully flinching at the noise, calls out to everyone, “we will be calling pairs out, please listen to the locations carefully and, for the love of god, keep all drinking to a minimum unless you know where you’re going!”
just like that, all of the boys on the board for the fraternity were going to all corners of the lawn.
“jeongin!” seungmin calls out from the corner nearest to what was the tallest tree by far on this span of grass. “get yo ass over here!”
still clutching you by his side by the low-waisted belt loops of your shorts, he pulls you towards his friend.
“woah, small drink of water you have here, baby bread—” the treasurer remarks.
“let’s not call me that, hyung,” your partner scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully at the nickname.
ogling you, seungmin only blinks to snicker at your flushed cheeks. “and you must be…?”
“y/n, nice to meet you.”
you outstretch your hand towards him and jeongin shoots a look at you, then at seungmin, then back at you. it’s so harsh and so abrupt that you retract your gesture and the treasurer doesn’t even flinch.
“nice to meet you, miss y/n. you two are with me for the first challenge, come closer,”
you both take a stride forward but jeongin’s hand doesn’t budge.
“oh real bold, baby bread,”
baby bread winces at the name.
seungmin slips a long white handkerchief out from his fanny pack, truly a sight to behold considering the fact that it is way too loose around his hips. he begins knotting it around jeongin’s wrist and then around your forearm. the tension isn’t enough to turn your arm white, but when you try wriggling to create a bit of free space, it only seems to get tighter.
“i was a boy scout in my youth.” he dotes, casting his eyes into the glaring sun, his nostalgia-filled grin reminiscent of a puppy panting up at the sky.
while he repeats the process on another few pairs, jeongin leans down, inhaling deeply a couple of times.
“mm… what do you wear?”
deadpan, you reply, “clothes?”
“no i mean- like- what perfume do you use?”
his coy demeanour is disguised by something a bit more tender, sincere — although, the tent in his pants that keeps grazing against your thigh is the only thing that tells you the question is all but innocent — and you look down at your shoes.
“you gonna tell me?”
“crème divine, it was a gift from an old friend of mine,”
“fuck,”
his breathing is laboured, like the aroma alone is enough to make him feel faint. and it is. but he can’t let you know that — for sure at least.
“right, ahem, your first challenge is flip cup, you all know the rules, right?”
everybody nods in unison and seungmin sighs in relief. “phew, cuz that makes my job way easier!”
you peer up at jeongin, eyes focused solely on the red solo cups, full of lager, not at all even noticing the way cassandra is staring him down, equal parts vengeful and passionately enamoured.
both of your arms are essentially restricted, so you don’t count on yourself to win this thing for the both of you.
“get ready, set… go!”
instantly, jeongin lowers himself in line with the edge of the table and uses his teeth to get a firm hold of the cup’s rim. with a sort of practiced control, he manoeuvres the plastic cup up and the drink falls perfectly into his mouth. well, the first few swigs or so.
like a waterfall, it splashes all over the lower portion of his face and runs down his chin, pooling at his neck and anything that missed his face was dampening his shirt into a soggy, sticky mess of grey.
all the while seungmin is commentating the scene.
“woah, look who got soaked! baby bread, small sips next time, yeah? woo-hoo!”
he’s very obviously wasted, but it’s a breath of fresh air seeing someone very authentic about how much of a meathead they are. unlike seungmin, jeongin is playing it a little differently — trying to hide how much of an asshole he is behind the guise that he has a massive crush on you — and you can see through it all.
his cup is empty and uses his left hand, the one not around you, to help you drink your own.
“so you got yourself wet for nothing?” you muse with an incredulous smile.
he passes it to your lips, attentively watching you as you chug the alcohol. a few swallows in, about halfway through the container. he notices your eyes, looking down at his tee, clinging to each crevice of his torso, most obviously around his chest and chiseled abs.
he looks occupied with watching you. “maybe i did it on purpose,”
you hum, teetering on the side of laughter.
“y’know, so i could see you get wet for something?”
so ambushed by the sudden, overtly-flirty streak, you choke on the beer but ultimately manage to keep it down with a refreshed gasp of air hitting your lungs.
as quickly as he chugged it, he manages to flip his cup on his first try and do the same with yours in record time.
“aaaand, they win it! ladies and gentlemen, our first champions of the day!” seungmin applauds you both.
he leans into the both of you while putting the faux metal medals around your necks. “and for the record, i never doubted our baby bread over here,”
you giggle, bordering on a cackle at the way jeongin’s neck goes pale while being teased. “down these ends, we call him flower boy,”
“well, well, well — flower boy? better keep this good luck charm of yours, you’re gonna need her.”
“sure will, minnie, i sure will.”
—
“da-da-da~” hyunjin, jisung and minho sing in unison.
minho is the first to draw their jingle to a stop by using seungmin’s airhorn to calm everyone else down.
“we are now down to the grand finale but, before we get down to that, yongbok-ah, what’s our status on the donations raised?”
the blondie, wearing a frat jacket around his shoulders, announces cheerily: “we’ve raised six hundred dollars and seventy three cents for our student union!”
like clockwork, everybody yells in celebration and are quickly hushed down by seungmin’s airhorn that is still wielded by minho’s hands.
“what’s our last game, jinnie?” jisung drums his back.
hyunjin cups his hands to frame his mouth and exclaims, “bullshit!”
seungmin adds, “our final six are the campus heartthrob channie with our beautiful secretary mila, muscleman changbin and his partner chanel, and last but not least, the most dominant rookies that NBTFL has ever seen, y/n and baby bread jeongin!”
all of the other ex-participants clap excitedly and await the disclosure of the rules.
“you have all competed in games that were physically challenging, but how about trying your hand at something that requires more than strength?” seungmin begins.
hyunjin takes the next, very blatantly rehearsed, line of, “bullshit is a game where you have to call someone’s bluff when you spot it, and on the flip side, if you are telling a lie, you have to hide it from the rest of your opponents,”
felix intercepts: “but we won’t be using cards and instead we’ll just be naming different things we have or haven’t done until someone calls bullshit,”
“why?” chan yells louder than the rest of them.
his australian friend answers with a quick because you’re all piss-faced wasted! which was not true in the slightest — almost everyone who ended up in the finals were only there because they were close to sober; it was a natural selection thing anyways.
“besides, we’ve made it simpler for your benefit and definitely not because of our own laziness: say three statements each, other players can yell bullshit after you’ve made all three or just after you’ve said something they think is untrue!”
minho insightfully carries on. “you can get out by calling bullshit on something that is true or by failing to identify bullshit after a whole circle round, in which case the person with the bullshit statement and their partner automatically wins!”
“right, so only the most manipulative can pull this off! are we ready, guys?” jisung is smiling from ear to ear while checking everybody’s prepared.
every single time your eyes meet jeongin’s, there’s this flame behind it that catches you off guard. in fact, it’s so distracting that you don’t even realise he starts speaking until you look away. you’re sat down for what seems like the first time in four hours, all overheated exhaustion going away for a brief moment. you can feel your blouse slipping off and your shorts are tighter around your thighs and you realise the discomfort cannot be found in what you’re wearing or what lack of fluids you’ve had since the three-legged race two hours ago: it’s in the way jeongin has his arm around you, the same place it was in in a few hours ago. it’s the way his voice still finds your ears like some sort of sweet, hypnotic melody. it’s the way the words leave his mouth with his eyes wide and his jaw tensed.
“y/nnie, we got this, okay?”
he squeezes your shoulder using the gap between his chin and collarbone.
you feign disinterest. “whatever, flower boy, let’s win this thing,”
“that’s my girl,” he utters, kissing your forehead.
chanel is up first: “i’ve never been surfing, i’ve never had jam—”
“bullshit!” chan calls out along with half of the crowd.
the girl gasps like he’s just placed a hex on her family. “what? i have never had jam, i’m allergic to raspberries!”
he quarrels back. “there’s alternatives!”
with her pointer finger on her chin, she ponders curiously, evidently searching her mind for a possibility that she may be wrong. “oh! wait… yeah, i’ve had that strawberry one that the caterers give us…”
honest to god, she was not the brightest tool in the shed anyways, so it was quite the achievement to make it this far. chan, on the other hand, has his experience stretching back to six years ago, when he was still a freshmen. he took quite a liking to some of the guys in the fraternity, so he stayed at this college for his postgrad and never looked back. nobody had an issue with him being president for the past 3 years, though; he saw everybody on the lawn as his family. to get this close to victory though, it was worth way more than family in this moment.
“chanel, changbin, out!” his voice carries over to the minibar near the side of the house because the music stops abruptly and only gets started back up when those watching roar, entertained.
“too bad, thanks for participating!” hyunjin pats changbin on the back as he goes straight past chanel and to the side of the house.
seungmin boos them and returns to his cue cards. “channie, it’s your turn,”
“i produce music in my free time, my dream hair colour is blond, my favourite frank ocean album is blond…”
mila continues with her own set of statements. “i have a mole the shape of a four-pointed star behind my ear, i can eat a footlong sandwich in sub one minute and i can do five pirouettes on a clay tennis court.”
it’s now your turn and, in spite of using mila and chan’s time to think of your own truths, your mind goes blank for a little bit. jeongin squeezes your hip, bruising it a little by continuing to use his fingertips to pepper pinches on your skin, but nods encouragingly anyways.
“i major in communications, i have two twin shark plushies called fin and azure, and i really need to itch my nose right now!” you bury your head in embarrassment into jeongin’s shirt, but realise you can easily scratch that part of your nose by rubbing your face into the cotton.
jeongin’s breath catches like it has been doing all day. he fills his lungs with what little air it can hold and begins to talk with a smile on his lips.
“i’m champion rank on overwatch, my favourite colour is green,”
just then, your head lifts to grace his eyes, his vision going blurry around your face. it was like time itself had been building up to this very moment and conveniently ground to a complete collapse. seconds eroding into what felt like hours, jeongin licks his lips.
“and i’m in love with you, y/n.”
two looks — one away and one back at jeongin’s face — abnormally stern and sincere for a chronic smiler like him. it felt different compared to what happened a couple days ago. he didn’t smell like detergent pods with a hint of weed now though. tonka and vanilla bean. a subtle hint of cider from earlier. he smelled like you.
on the contrary, the look he gave you was exactly the same, identical at the very least. his pupils were blown, eyes glassy, his mouth was tugging downwards in random intervals.
“bullshit!”
you call it out even though you were still in the middle of convincing yourself of that supposed fact. everything else told you otherwise, the signs pointed to the possibility that he was telling the truth, but your stomach flutters at the thought and acid threatens to come up if you do so much as speak again.
his mouth forms a crease, the most straight and stable thing about him. the buzz of the fifty-odd people surrounding the singular table fills what would have been awkward silence if you were both alone, but nothing can mask your pounding heart.
those stupid dimples form valleys in his cheeks.
jeongin shakes his head.
nothing prepares you for the immense amount of pressure, suffocating your chest. it’s not peaceful by any means. but it’s the type of pain you would be okay living with for the rest of your life.
felix coughs. “looks like we have our… winners?”
but it’s too late. mila wraps her arms around what portion of chan she can and chan spins her around victoriously. it was no secret that she was not just his secretary but nobody dared to press for further information: seeing this was definitely way more captivating than the confession that jeongin dropped at your feet a few seconds prior. this was because, unlike chan, he had been seen ‘confessing’ his love to girls at most parties in the two years he’s been enrolled, most times butt naked and all times sweaty.
that last part was no exception.
everybody else is ablaze with drinks in hand and the bass booming loud. minho and jisung are already taking turns throwing themselves at each other (take that as you will), hyunjin and changbin have since interlocked arms and are chugging watering cans full of beer and felix, seungmin and chan are putting pong tables aside to clear more space for the dance floor. no focus is on you or jeongin.
well, somebody is focusing on you. that fact hasn’t changed since what happened in the laundry room or since the morning or since flip cup, the three-legged race or bullshit. he undoes the knots holding you together by force. this time, you follow him inside of the sorority house without a word, instead just letting your fingers interlace.
you shut the door behind you and press your palms flat against it as jeongin slowly turns around, no longer uncomfortably backing into the washing machine, but now closing in, just as he longed to do days before this. with everyone else drunk out of their minds, it doesn’t seem like there’s a better time to make a little mistake like this.
“y/n. listen,”
“i don’t want you to think that i want a one-night stand and you won’t be a temporary fix to my permanent problems or whatever you said a couple days ago,”
you chuckle disburdened. “so you admit you have permanent problems?”
he pokes his tongue against the walls of his cheek as his hands find your shoulders and begin their descent down your arms.
“will that convince you to let me show you how much i’m in love with you?”
you nod and mumble a few words in disbelief.
when his lips meet yours, it’s not as frenetic as what you expected: where you assumed jeongin would be impatient, he was slow and precise with his fingers stealthily trailing down to the small of your back as he groaned into each kiss. although the leisurely pace he was going about this was painful, you trusted him. how dumb.
he pulls away. “be a good girl for me and get on top of the dryer. think you can do that?”
his tone is ever so slightly commanding and so you follow his orders.
“mm, what an obedient girl.” he purrs while you push yourself up on top of the metal cube. it patters against the laundry room floor and he rocks your hips towards his own, your legs instinctively going around him.
he nestles his head in between your cleavage, now exposed to the humid air, his lips peppering slobbery kisses to the inside edge of one breast, then the other. you feel his breath on your nipple but, instead of sucking it, his nose bridge ghosts your collarbone.
“fuck, you smell so good y/nnie…” he trembles at the mere scent of your skin. “the things i want to do right now, good god…”
you whine involuntarily, hips rutting so your core can grind against his lower stomach. “jeongin, can you… please— just put it in?”
“you got a condom, baby?”
you blindly grope around the shelves above your head for the stash of protection that you knew the girls kept and regularly used. after struggling for a few seconds, he uses one hand to help and brings one packet to his teeth. his hands are already fumbling with the buttons of your denim shorts and he shimmies them off with rehearsed ease.
but when you just about get over the tedium of waiting for him to go inside of you, he takes the condom and places it to your side. confused, you look at him and, as though he can sense it, he glances up through his eyebrows at you, shaking his head.
“you didn’t think i was gonna give it to you easy, did you baby? you’re not as stubborn as i thought you were, look at you, legs spread for me like that,” he’s got this mischievous smirk on his face while he taunts you.
“relax, relax,” jeongin pulls your panties to the side and sticks his tongue into your slit, slippery with your juices. “i won’t be too mean.”
the feeling of him between your legs is sending you into orbit. he looked so pretty like this, all riled up and evidently in want of something very specific: what it was, you had no idea. how could you even think while he was sucking and flicking at your sensitive nub with his mouth?
he’s making these graphic noises of pure satisfaction, little hums that oscillated and shook you towards the edge.
“innie, shit!” you’re almost there and thrust up to meet his mouth to finally finish.
however, jeongin has other plans.
he withdraws. no sounds are heard apart from the pop from the release of suction around your clit and the muffled music from the yard.
the coil tightened in your stomach exponentially tighter and you almost began to cry at the loss of pleasure.
when you open your eyes after having clenched them shut, he’s got the condom between his teeth once again and rips open the plastic like he’s done this before. although it doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would have.
he slides it on his length, peeking out from the waistband of his boxers until he pulls them further down.
“where do you want me, baby?”
he strokes at his member, tongue sticking out all the while his eyes wander across your figure; first right at your face, then your breasts, then the space between your legs.
“fuck my pussy, just fuck me, shit,” you pant.
he stalks two steps forward and inserts his tip inside of your hole.
“mm, ‘s big, so big, jeongin, i don’t know if i can take it …” your drawls are so drawn-out that the words all seem like they’re a million letters long.
“shh… shh…” he pushes further, deeper inside of you, fucking you open with the sort of unhurried enthusiasm you wish other guys had possessed when you were having sex with them.
in fact, the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes you forget it in a blink.
“what a good girl you are when you listen, but imagine if you gave in when i came to give you flowers?”
“then you wouldn’t be enjoying it as much as you’re enjoying it now,” you say, barely forming words as he finds a brutal rhythm with his hips.
the slap of skin against skin while he sucks at your neck is the perfect combination of inexplicable euphoria. he’s grunting, baring his teeth against the base of your neck and, just when you think the rhythm is steady enough for you to achieve your high, he goes even faster.
“y/n, this cunt is so fucking tight, you’re gonna make me cum!” jeongin hisses.
you claw helplessly at his shoulder blades and ready yourself for your own high, hoping it arrives soon before you begin to lose your mind. like he can decipher your yelping, he goes at maximum speed, destroying your hole so hard you fear that your insides have since taken the shape of his dick.
when you least expect it, at the same time you gasp for air and open your eyes, his hips stutter and warmth fills your vagina: you almost wish you took it raw. finally, you manage to finish. by the time you’ve rode out your high on him, your legs are shaking uncontrollably.
jeongin doesn’t pull out straight away but when he does, he whimpers at the absence of your gummy walls around him. he’s pulling his sweatpants back up and pulls his shirt over you, swaddling you in some unneeded heat yet very necessary cold from the dampness of it.
he stands back, admiring you.
“so, you still wanna see me like i’m a good-for-nothing avoidant?” he teases.
you roll your eyes so far back into your head that it strains a little. “hopefully not, yang jeongin,”
“oh come on, you’ll have to say more than that!” he embraces you fully with his signature grimace, your face buried in his chest. “hey, will you?”
“hopefully not, yang—”
his lips crash onto yours, silencing you. and who are you to protest? those swollen lips of his grace you with enough of his taste to last you a lifetime and he once again takes his time away from kissing you to hold you close, taking a deep breath.
“one more thing: you have to keep wearing this perfume for me, y/nnie.”
“you’ve got it, flower boy.”
dividers: @cursed-carmine
taglist: @therissaverse @alienduhh @moon-1307 @b4echo @kloversung @jisuperboard @armymyr (you can join here too, just comment under the post!)
in which; jeongin is ready to go all in but you're not going to take the bait without a bit of a fight beforehand.
word count: 8.6k
genre: fluff/smut
pairing: fuckboy! jeongin x f! reader
warnings: orgasm denial (just once!), size kink, praise kink, teensy bit of a scent kink (oooo not so vanilla now are we), protected sex (stay safe bbies), brief mentions of the use of recreational drugs? alcohooool galooore
notes: 2/8 done — yaaaay i hope you enjoy this ^^ sorry for the long wait, this got waaaay longer than i thought it would be ahaha
this is the second part of my zephyr series! the fics are all standalones, but all adopt the atmosphere from the album ‘Zephyr’ by NIKI.
jeongin is not what people would consider a ‘gentleman’.
hell, ninety percent of the girls he’s been with would support that motion and the other ten would not even know his name, but would still be able to pick him out of a lineup as one of the biggest manwhores alive. in a nutshell, he’s railed basically everyone in your sorority.
but who’s to say a man can’t change?
on the other hand, he’s well-versed in your character to the point that it disgusts him that he knows you so well. you’ve had the odd conversation here and there — largely due to how infamous he is among the girls at your college — so he really shouldn’t know as much as he does.
suffice to say, he has a massive crush on you.
so debilitating in fact that he gets dizzy even thinking about you. when you walk past him in the crowded hallways of the arts and humanities building, you smell vaguely of citrus and something else he can’t place, but regardless, your scent riles him up like crazy.
usually, he’s a smooth-talking ladies man (or something of that nature) but when he’s around you, he can barely hold down a conversation without noticing the blood rushing into his cheeks and his dick.
he’s far from awkward, but even hyunjin pointed out that there’s some tremble in his voice when you’re in his eye line. and hyunjin could barely see a neon yellow sign the size of his body even if it was two centimetres away from his face.
whatever the cause is, he is nowhere near enough confident around you to ever tell you how he feels sober.
so maybe it’s the brownie seungmin gave him a couple hours ago that sends him to your door in a daze.
even though he’s high off his mind, evidenced by the way his eyes have turned square and his rumbling stomach, a part of him feels as though he has never felt more clear-headed in his life.
bouquet of flowers in hand, he knocks hastily on your door and stares at his reflection in the double-glazed window in front of him. he uses his fingers to ruffle his hair but is cut short by you opening the door.
“jeongin?”
he gulps. “y/n.”
his eyes widen.
you’re standing there in the doorway, wearing a tank top with a hot pink push-up bra underneath that fits so well, in fact, that your breasts are peeking out from behind the neckline. one of the straps is falling off your shoulder and he takes a look at the bottom half of your body. your shorts are cut so daringly short at your mid-thigh that he has to take a step back.
“jeongin, what is it? you’ve got a wet t-shirt contest tomorrow and i’ve gotta hit the books to avoid the mid-morning rush in the library,”
your tone is no-nonsense and forbids any lame excuse that he had been conspiring on the way there. folding your arms, you look him up and down with a judgemental expression.
“who are those for?” you remark, motioning towards the bundle of flowers that he is cradling in his arms.
“please don’t tell me they’re for cassandra, she is so much better off without you, full offence,”
he shrugs. “all taken? listen,”
“no you listen,”
like you flipped a switch, he closes his mouth and gives you the opportunity to speak.
“you don’t get to screw half of the girls in our cohort and think for a second that you are worth anybody’s time,”
admittedly, the truth hurts.
maybe you are right: maybe he doesn’t deserve stability after trying (and succeeding at) wooing every girl on campus, maybe he shouldn’t be following his dick wherever it points him, maybe he wouldn’t have even had a shot at committing to a girl anyways.
or maybe he should start trusting his instincts — the ones that weren’t just based off boners, at least — and fess up.
either way, his mouth moves faster than his brain does.
“y/n, i think i’m in love with you,”
your breath hitches at the revelation. could your university’s resident fuckboy really want to throw it all away for some girl he barely knew?
that question alone sends you back into reality. a reality where he wouldn’t ask you out unless the relationship would be transactional.
“goodnight, jeongin—”
“wait! wait, wait, wait,” he reaches his palm out and waves it around in front of the door that you began to close.
“i’m being honest here,”
incredulous, you scoff. “as honest as my ass,”
the drugged-up horniness causes him to take a quick glance at your ass by poking his head through the threshold of the door. “looks pretty honest to me.”
“yeah don’t piss me off,”
he cuts you off before you can say another word that’ll bruise his ego.
“these are for you.”
jeongin stretches his hand out and, as promised, hands them to you. what catches your eye is the small card folded on top, so you take it and clutch in one hand, holding it to your side.
“uh, thanks… now what do you want?”
he furrows his brows, but amidst his confusion, he maintains his patience. “i already told you.”
the way he says it is final, which makes you feel insecure of what you’re wearing all of a sudden.
you lean in, still at least a metre away from him, whispering, “we can’t let fraternity boys in. it’s against sister policy,”
“then step outside?”
“why should i?” your arms return to their crossed position, cocking an eyebrow and squinting your eyes.
jeongin has never been more desperate for a girls’ attention — and that takes a lot. usually, just seeing a girl wearing a top that exposes her shoulder is enough to get him started. luckily, in spite of his reputation, he still manages to land many of the ladies he wants as soon as he wants them.
he is not used to being pressed with further questions.
after searching your eyes briefly for some sort of weakness, he comes up empty and sidesteps into the house, sprinting to the room at the very back of the place. taking a sharp left, he outruns you while you slink behind, still grasping the stalks of the flowers in your hand.
when you arrive at the only room at the end of that corridor, the lights are off and the door slams shut.
“jeongin, what the fu—?”
his palm covers your mouth and he uses his free hand to flick the light switch.
his eyes are wider now, pupils constricting at the sudden burst of light. like an overexcited animal, jeongin butts his head into the door, stamping his feet to flank your own.
you’ve turned your head away, taking deep breaths that are almost in sync with his own.
“i’m not looking for a one-night stand,” you stay firm.
he slowly twists the top of his head into the panels, inching closer to your ear.
“neither am i,” he murmurs.
jeongin momentarily thinks to himself that even a thirsty man in a desert would be able to stave off the need for water better than he’s handling this.
he needs you. he’s not sure in what way, but he wants to take you in every way possible regardless.
too many times has he let the chance to confess his feelings slip, too many times has he been too afraid to say anything to you, too many times has he smelled that stupid perfume behind your neck while at school — it’s even more stupid now that he can smell it on your collarbone. lips inches away from the base of your neck, you flex your back and push yourself back into the sturdy door.
“i’m not looking to be a temporary fix to your persistent problems,”
his breath catches. “neither am i,”
testing the waters, his tongue swipes against bone and the sensation feels electric.
with a shaky exhale, you resist the urge to knot your fingers into the back of his head.
“i’m not looking for you,”
you finally look at him, practically collapsing to the floor with raw need. it’s not just lust that can nourish this desire, it’s something more than that. but how could you believe somebody who has only been driven by blind desire?
“i can’t say the same about you.”
you straighten your back, sending him into a stumble backwards into a washing machine. however, instead of being annoyed by where he’s ended up, he seems unbothered. that’s the limit, though.
everything on his face signals a total loss of self-control. he’s leaning back on his elbows, out-of-breath, face flushed.
“how did you know to run to the laundry room?”
that questions snaps him out of whatever daze he was in previously. “i’m a bit embarrassed to admit why,”
“oh yeah,” you have an amused smirk on your face.
“who was it again? nina, lisa…?”
“jenny,” he corrects you, gauchely turning pale in every part of his face sans his cheeks which still rage on in a splotchy pink.
“a-ha, the other two you did at your frat house?”
briefly, he casts his mind to the moments he spent with them but shakes his head in repulsion.
“you can’t ask me that! this is not what i’m here for,”
as it stands, the boy who cries fidelity is never believed when he attempts to fess up to the truth of his feelings.
instead of believing him, you roll your eyes contemptuously. “stop being so loud and tell me the truth,”
“i am!”
“who are these flowers really for? seriously, i’ll pass them on.”
for a moment, jeongin thinks of giving this whole thing up. it was stupid anyways.
but so is he.
“there’s a note somewhere in there that tells you all you need to know,”
he masks his impatience with an annoyed smile and a sideward glance to the washing basket hung on the wall.
when he looks back, you’re examining a small white card.
“hm… more expensive than i expected from a broke college frat boy with no respect for women, but certainly not a good enough price if you’re trying to impress a girl, that’s for sure,”
abandoning all common sense, jeongin snatches the flowers and takes the rectangular piece of paper, reading it for himself.
“shit, the message must’ve— gotten— lost, or something,”
you scrunch your lips together and try to hide any and every semblance of your own amusement.
“y/n, listen,” he places the flowers on the washing machine.
“it’s stupid of you to even let me in—”
“—you let yourself in,” you correct him matter-of-factly.
taking note of your ‘astute’ observation, he revises the sentence hastily while trying to remember his train of thought.
“regardless, it’s stupid that i’m even here,”
“that’s right,”
he narrows his eyes but collects himself, looking back at the flowers and then at the watch on his wrist: it was midnight. you probably had assignments due — hell, he had about five that were overdue and they were all extended deadlines — so he had to make this quick.
the issue is he has never cared about a girl this much before. so, what comes out of his mouth next is out of his own impatient volition.
“i love you so much that i don’t want to have sex with you.”
wow, he should’ve thought about how to word it more thoroughly.
keeling over in laughter, you struggle to choke back the tears that are fighting their way out and he shakes his head frantically, as though it would erase what he just said.
“no, no, what i meant is— god— i think i like you so much that i don’t want to have sex with anyone but you!”
his overextended effort to defend what little dignity and credibility he has does almost nothing to calm you down, but a part of you tells you that this is in fact not a fever dream.
“well, if this isn’t a development,” you step closer.
his eyes search yours desperately to try to find anything besides complete incredulity.
“i’ve never seen a man so desperate to get his dick sucked that he’s pulled out the ‘i’m in love with you’ act.”
“it’s pathetic, i know…”
he begins to reason with you, perhaps demonstrate how genuine he’s trying to be whilst simultaneously acknowledging reasons as to why you won’t trust him and also why you should just give him a chance, but you cut him off.
you don’t say anything.
you just get as close as you can and lower yourself downwards, knees hitting the floor.
all of a sudden, jeongin can’t breathe. he feels the air in the room being sucked out and he just looks down at you.
even if he hadn’t caught feelings for you, he knew he would’ve enjoyed the sight if it ever came to this. your hair flowed over your shoulders and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach out, tucking one stray strand behind your ear.
you look up, eyes wide and innocent. it’s like you knew all he could think about was how bad he wanted to fuck you. how bad he wanted to cuddle you, take you on dates, reassure you. how bad he wished he could do both for the rest of his life.
“can i be of any help?” the sultry tone of your voice sending chills down his spine with every micro-movement of your head keeping him on edge.
scrambling for purchase, he nods and swallows so hard that his adam’s apple becomes visible, bobbing up and down through the walls of his throat.
you place your hand on his thigh.
this was a regular tuesday for him — in the laundry room of delta chi with a girl about to give him some life-changing head that he most certainly did not deserve.
today was not a regular tuesday.
readjusting your position, your hand flies off his thigh and ties his undone shoelaces before rising back up.
“rest assured, i don’t think i will be of any help to you at all.”
you tap his shoulder twice and motion for him to follow you out. when he does so, his movements are so robotic, it looks like he’s been hypnotised, so you try your best not to kick the man while he’s down.
he walks through the door, bowing his head slightly as though he will knock it on the edge of the nine foot frame, and turns around slowly.
defeated, he says, “keep the flowers.”
“sure,”
one last scan of your frame and he’s halfway down the porch steps. while closing the door, something dawns on you.
impulsively, you call out to him. “wait, one more thing,”
you’ve zoned out completely, but you’re almost certain his eyes catch the light of the foyer’s chandelier peeking out through the small crack you’ve left in the door.
“i can’t figure out what you came here to say…i figured that it must’ve just been the weed brownie speaking,”
he snarls in disbelief, but all malice quickly dissipates and a wide grin takes over.
“nah, it was just a really good brownie.”
jeongin turns back around and bends his arm, saluting you playfully. “see you around, y/n.”
“hopefully not, yang jeongin!”
—
for jeongin, the door slammed shut on the idea of banging you two days ago.
for you, the door wasn’t even open.
but he wasn’t a quitter, far from it.
he figured that he just needed to give you some time to warm up to the thought, but he anticipated that you’d be quite cold to the idea, and today proved just that.
all year, all the brothers of kappa gamma phi and sisters of delta chi could think about was the annual basically-dating-for-charity event, aptly given the name of the ‘NO BETTER TIME FOR LOVE’ competition.
but why did so many people eagerly await its arrival each year?
well, it was for the sole reason of breaking rules, which was something that most could get away with without feeling too much guilt anyways, but at least the action was more than permissible during the contest.
the rules in question?
it was typically against the ethos of both groups to date people from other fraternities and sororities; however, this one day in the social calendar required people to partner up based on their own discretion, and this meant actually befriending the people from the other houses.
most people used this time to make moves on their crushes who would otherwise be out of bounds and hookup if all went smoothly. jeongin would know, he had been doing the very same thing for the past two years: although, his methods were more than unorthodox, asking multiple girls and stringing each one along, ending up more than satisfied before, during and after the contest.
each delta chi girl had to pair up with a kappa gamma phi bro and complete a series of games, ranging from general knowledge quizzes to physically demanding challenges — and the catch? win as many as you can with one of your hands tied to the other person’s.
this meant no personal space, no cheating and no limits.
“so, y/n…”
you turn around at the sound of his voice.
“i heard through the grapevine that you don’t have a partner yet for NBTFL, is that true?”
here was your worst nightmare, a frat guy who fucked almost every girl within a two mile radius, standing behind you, basically threatening to spend the whole day with you.
yes, he was charming. yes, he was good looking. yes, he was too much of those things that it overshadowed all of his very flagrant shortcomings.
“what’s it to you?”
he chuckles, air coming out in strong exhales, completely opposing the previously shaky breaths from the other night. “you’re prettier and meaner in the daylight,”
“you’re more of an idiot in the daylight,” you fire back, turning away.
like some sick joke, he grabs your wrist and pulls you in towards him. "an idiot who doesn't quit,"
"not to burst your bubble or anything, but i don't think i'm gonna be participating this year, flower boy,"
caught off-guard, he positions himself closer to your body while you make a futile attempt to wriggle out of his grasp.
"flower boy? that's certainly a nickname. and, y’know, wouldn't you like to join me and win this thing?"
he raises his eyebrows twice to persuade you, but if there was one thing that jeongin didn't know about you yet was when you said something, you meant it.
"with you?" you cackle.
and if there was one thing you didn't know about jeongin is that he is more than persistent. it's like he lets every negative insult you throw his way ricochet off him like the way bullets bounce off armour.
"i think that we'd make a good team, y/n,"
“a team doesn’t work if there’s only one person who believes in it,”
he lets go of your wrist, still smiling. “if you change your mind, find me. i’ll be near the punch.”
“so you can pick up more girls?”
“none of them would be a valuable asset…”
he pauses for a hellishly long moment, as though thinking about something with that mind of his that never usually has a thought in it.
“unless…”
“unless…?”
when the words leave your mouth, you stare at him, realising what trap you just fell for by showing your interest in hearing his answer. you cringe at the thought.
“unless they were you.”
there it is.
“anyways, see you around, y/n!”
he waves enthusiastically before running to a group of his friends, smile getting wider upon seeing you put two fingers to both of your temples and rubbing them so hard that your nail beds turned white.
hopefully not, yang jeongin.
soon after at midday, the sun is hanging high above the lawn at delta chi sorority and the grass is populated with fifty or so keen participants of this year’s NBTFL contest.
since your interaction with jeongin in the morning, you’ve changed into this year’s colour for the girls. layered with your sheer blue wraparound blouse, plunging neckline showing off your breasts just enough to expose your cleavage, and the shortest shorts you could find in your closet. promiscuity always guaranteed high donations. the fabric was prettily bedazzled with rhinestones and delicately embroidered with white thread — something you had made at some crafting retreat with the girls over the spring break. before you left your room, you swept your hair up into a less-than-neat updo with an acrylic claw clip in the shape of a hibiscus flower.
“real… summery,” jeongin raises his eyebrows, hands naturally finding a trail from your lower back to your waist.
you indulge in the moment. “here’s a real summary — stay away from me, how about that?”
“one’s word play is another man’s foreplay,”
his inadvertent charm, seemingly sincere lack of self-awareness: it’s laughable. to the delight of his ego, you make the mistake of letting out a soft chuckle.
“ha, see! there’s that smile,”
“lay off, do you even know how to spell foreplay?” you scoff.
taking a good look at him, he too also looks prettier in the daylight. his cheekbones looked razor sharp, blades of hair fanning over his forehead. jeongin’s adam’s apple is so prominent that, when he’s waiting for you to retort, it bobs about five inches up and down in one swallow. the oversized white shirt, pink sweatpants — anybody else would look stupid looking like that — and yet, he still pulls it off.
the thought of holding hands with the manwhore of kappa gamma phi for an entire day flashes across your mind. every snack, every beverage, every toilet break would be eaten, drank and spent with yang jeongin.
three days ago, that would have been a hard pass. even in this moment, you so badly wanted to say no, more so than before.
“what’s in it for me, flower boy?”
to be fair, it just comes out of your mouth before you can think it through. you’ve heard that he’s done worse.
“glory. my hand in yours. maybe more?”
“in your dreams.”
“so it’s a no?”
“you expected a yes?”
something changes in his eyes — you’re unsure of what it is. all you know is your heart wavers a little in reaffirming your decision to say no and that your top is exposing way too much of your chest in front of the hungriest, horniest bastard in school.
“i’m in this for the long game, y/nnie,”
“so we’ve got six hours to win this thing?” you’re still struggling to obscure your cleavage and ultimately give up.
jeongin laughs to himself and stoops down to your height, lips ghosting the shell of your ear.
“if you think that’s how i’d play the long game, you’re so adorably wrong.”
“oh, so five hours then?”
you feel his breath on the back of your neck and shudder instinctively. were you really about to do this? every last brain cell of yours was screaming, begging for you to follow logic, but your intuition had a good feeling about it in some twisted, masochistic way.
if you get to hook up with jeongin, it might be something life-changing; you might actually get the hype. not that it would ever come to that. either way, you still plan on making the next hours feel like hell for him. because doing that would actually give you answers about what happened that night in the laundry room. it would also be very entertaining to see him all riled up and take away what he so badly wants at the last second.
“i’m gonna go get a drink and do a round before they start rallying up the teams and such. want anything?”
“maybe just a beer.”
his unassuming glance turns into something more serious. “that won’t hinder your movements?”
“a sorority girl sees alcohol as an asset. you frat guys see it as a be-all end-all to your boredom.”
“read me like a book there — you gonna keep flirting with me, hm?”
“hopefully not, yang jeongin.”
he snickers, taking a few steps back, taking you in with a sigh. “you’ve got a new catchphrase now, y/nnie.”
“and you’ve got a new nickname flower boy.”
—
“who’s ready for the 25th annual No Better Time For Love Contest in support of our school union?”
everybody cheers, but yours is cut short by a more-than-friendly hand on your hip. jeongin hands you a beer and rubs your skin between his fingertips, practically gathering you flush against the side of his chest. it’s almost like he wants people to stare at you two.
“now, i know you’ve all gotten into pairs already, but i’m something of an avid hunger games fan,”
it’s han jisung on the mic this year, the lead event organiser of kappa gamma phi, jeongin’s senior and, knowing the president of delta chi, she’s probably giving head to whoever her partner is supposed to be across town or getting absolutely wasted on ‘pre-game’ shots across the lawn.
“and, for twenty bucks in the cash pot in the name of your team - why is this such an important year?”
maybe it’s the middle school you who urges you to shout it out but the silence amongst the crowd was getting too awkward to bear. “it’s a quarter quell!”
“who said that? who said that?” he grins, pointing into random areas of the crowd until he spots you waving excitedly.
“and what does a quarter quell entail, miss?”
for a brief moment, jeongin’s touch casts your mind elsewhere, but you regain focus and exclaim, “a change to the stakes, selection or competition!”
“yes! except with less grotesque violence, dictatorship and scavenging! wow, you must have a real lucky partner,”
he raises his eyebrows at the partner in question, smiling so contently that anybody who isn’t already in the know about his womanising behaviours would assume he’s the mildest person ever. you look up at him, placing a hand on his heart and leaning closer into him.
“he sure is!”
“thank you miss, for being the only culturally aware person here — anyways, so here’s the catch…”
you can feel jeongin side-eyeing you and all is confirmed when you check your peripheral vision.
cocking your head upwards, stroking his chest now, you challenge him. “what? i can be perky when i want to be.”
jeongin is still looking at jisung, but he speaks through the corner of his mouth, still donning that charming smile with those irritatingly cute dimples.
“you’re always perky,” his eyes drift down to your boobs and quickly return to looking at jisung.
“—y/nnie.” he adds.
the name of endearment feels less heartwarming after he’s just admitted that he likes your breasts.
“how classy.” you remark, folding your arms together.
jisung’s voice cuts through. “not only is there going to be a prize for the most money pledged in the name of the teams,”
“but this year, there will be a chance for a male and female MVP title, as well as the best couple prize, as voted by non-participants of the game!”
chatter springs up in pockets but jisung shushes them with a cough. “more prizes to be won and they can be won by you guys, so keep the money coming and let’s start this thing!”
jisung’s right-hand man, minho, starts spraying water with a super soaker all over people in the crowd, the liquid evaporating almost immediately upon hitting skin, sending everybody into a frenzy.
“please listen carefully!” he’s shouting over the raucous.
seungmin, the frat treasurer, brings out an airhorn from what seems to be thin air and sounds two long bursts of pure noise that silence all sixty people in the crowd. they must have anticipated that the turnout would be crazy since they had never used such methods to control the crowd — either that, or wonpil, the old president of kappa gamma phi (who also happened to be seungmin’s older brother) had some words of wisdom for the new leadership team. whatever it was, it was effective.
jisung, fresh from fearfully flinching at the noise, calls out to everyone, “we will be calling pairs out, please listen to the locations carefully and, for the love of god, keep all drinking to a minimum unless you know where you’re going!”
just like that, all of the boys on the board for the fraternity were going to all corners of the lawn.
“jeongin!” seungmin calls out from the corner nearest to what was the tallest tree by far on this span of grass. “get yo ass over here!”
still clutching you by his side by the low-waisted belt loops of your shorts, he pulls you towards his friend.
“woah, small drink of water you have here, baby bread—” the treasurer remarks.
“let’s not call me that, hyung,” your partner scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully at the nickname.
ogling you, seungmin only blinks to snicker at your flushed cheeks. “and you must be…?”
“y/n, nice to meet you.”
you outstretch your hand towards him and jeongin shoots a look at you, then at seungmin, then back at you. it’s so harsh and so abrupt that you retract your gesture and the treasurer doesn’t even flinch.
“nice to meet you, miss y/n. you two are with me for the first challenge, come closer,”
you both take a stride forward but jeongin’s hand doesn’t budge.
“oh real bold, baby bread,”
baby bread winces at the name.
seungmin slips a long white handkerchief out from his fanny pack, truly a sight to behold considering the fact that it is way too loose around his hips. he begins knotting it around jeongin’s wrist and then around your forearm. the tension isn’t enough to turn your arm white, but when you try wriggling to create a bit of free space, it only seems to get tighter.
“i was a boy scout in my youth.” he dotes, casting his eyes into the glaring sun, his nostalgia-filled grin reminiscent of a puppy panting up at the sky.
while he repeats the process on another few pairs, jeongin leans down, inhaling deeply a couple of times.
“mm… what do you wear?”
deadpan, you reply, “clothes?”
“no i mean- like- what perfume do you use?”
his coy demeanour is disguised by something a bit more tender, sincere — although, the tent in his pants that keeps grazing against your thigh is the only thing that tells you the question is all but innocent — and you look down at your shoes.
“you gonna tell me?”
“crème divine, it was a gift from an old friend of mine,”
“fuck,”
his breathing is laboured, like the aroma alone is enough to make him feel faint. and it is. but he can’t let you know that — for sure at least.
“right, ahem, your first challenge is flip cup, you all know the rules, right?”
everybody nods in unison and seungmin sighs in relief. “phew, cuz that makes my job way easier!”
you peer up at jeongin, eyes focused solely on the red solo cups, full of lager, not at all even noticing the way cassandra is staring him down, equal parts vengeful and passionately enamoured.
both of your arms are essentially restricted, so you don’t count on yourself to win this thing for the both of you.
“get ready, set… go!”
instantly, jeongin lowers himself in line with the edge of the table and uses his teeth to get a firm hold of the cup’s rim. with a sort of practiced control, he manoeuvres the plastic cup up and the drink falls perfectly into his mouth. well, the first few swigs or so.
like a waterfall, it splashes all over the lower portion of his face and runs down his chin, pooling at his neck and anything that missed his face was dampening his shirt into a soggy, sticky mess of grey.
all the while seungmin is commentating the scene.
“woah, look who got soaked! baby bread, small sips next time, yeah? woo-hoo!”
he’s very obviously wasted, but it’s a breath of fresh air seeing someone very authentic about how much of a meathead they are. unlike seungmin, jeongin is playing it a little differently — trying to hide how much of an asshole he is behind the guise that he has a massive crush on you — and you can see through it all.
his cup is empty and uses his left hand, the one not around you, to help you drink your own.
“so you got yourself wet for nothing?” you muse with an incredulous smile.
he passes it to your lips, attentively watching you as you chug the alcohol. a few swallows in, about halfway through the container. he notices your eyes, looking down at his tee, clinging to each crevice of his torso, most obviously around his chest and chiseled abs.
he looks occupied with watching you. “maybe i did it on purpose,”
you hum, teetering on the side of laughter.
“y’know, so i could see you get wet for something?”
so ambushed by the sudden, overtly-flirty streak, you choke on the beer but ultimately manage to keep it down with a refreshed gasp of air hitting your lungs.
as quickly as he chugged it, he manages to flip his cup on his first try and do the same with yours in record time.
“aaaand, they win it! ladies and gentlemen, our first champions of the day!” seungmin applauds you both.
he leans into the both of you while putting the faux metal medals around your necks. “and for the record, i never doubted our baby bread over here,”
you giggle, bordering on a cackle at the way jeongin’s neck goes pale while being teased. “down these ends, we call him flower boy,”
“well, well, well — flower boy? better keep this good luck charm of yours, you’re gonna need her.”
“sure will, minnie, i sure will.”
—
“da-da-da~” hyunjin, jisung and minho sing in unison.
minho is the first to draw their jingle to a stop by using seungmin’s airhorn to calm everyone else down.
“we are now down to the grand finale but, before we get down to that, yongbok-ah, what’s our status on the donations raised?”
the blondie, wearing a frat jacket around his shoulders, announces cheerily: “we’ve raised six hundred dollars and seventy three cents for our student union!”
like clockwork, everybody yells in celebration and are quickly hushed down by seungmin’s airhorn that is still wielded by minho’s hands.
“what’s our last game, jinnie?” jisung drums his back.
hyunjin cups his hands to frame his mouth and exclaims, “bullshit!”
seungmin adds, “our final six are the campus heartthrob channie with our beautiful secretary mila, muscleman changbin and his partner chanel, and last but not least, the most dominant rookies that NBTFL has ever seen, y/n and baby bread jeongin!”
all of the other ex-participants clap excitedly and await the disclosure of the rules.
“you have all competed in games that were physically challenging, but how about trying your hand at something that requires more than strength?” seungmin begins.
hyunjin takes the next, very blatantly rehearsed, line of, “bullshit is a game where you have to call someone’s bluff when you spot it, and on the flip side, if you are telling a lie, you have to hide it from the rest of your opponents,”
felix intercepts: “but we won’t be using cards and instead we’ll just be naming different things we have or haven’t done until someone calls bullshit,”
“why?” chan yells louder than the rest of them.
his australian friend answers with a quick because you’re all piss-faced wasted! which was not true in the slightest — almost everyone who ended up in the finals were only there because they were close to sober; it was a natural selection thing anyways.
“besides, we’ve made it simpler for your benefit and definitely not because of our own laziness: say three statements each, other players can yell bullshit after you’ve made all three or just after you’ve said something they think is untrue!”
minho insightfully carries on. “you can get out by calling bullshit on something that is true or by failing to identify bullshit after a whole circle round, in which case the person with the bullshit statement and their partner automatically wins!”
“right, so only the most manipulative can pull this off! are we ready, guys?” jisung is smiling from ear to ear while checking everybody’s prepared.
every single time your eyes meet jeongin’s, there’s this flame behind it that catches you off guard. in fact, it’s so distracting that you don’t even realise he starts speaking until you look away. you’re sat down for what seems like the first time in four hours, all overheated exhaustion going away for a brief moment. you can feel your blouse slipping off and your shorts are tighter around your thighs and you realise the discomfort cannot be found in what you’re wearing or what lack of fluids you’ve had since the three-legged race two hours ago: it’s in the way jeongin has his arm around you, the same place it was in in a few hours ago. it’s the way his voice still finds your ears like some sort of sweet, hypnotic melody. it’s the way the words leave his mouth with his eyes wide and his jaw tensed.
“y/nnie, we got this, okay?”
he squeezes your shoulder using the gap between his chin and collarbone.
you feign disinterest. “whatever, flower boy, let’s win this thing,”
“that’s my girl,” he utters, kissing your forehead.
chanel is up first: “i’ve never been surfing, i’ve never had jam—”
“bullshit!” chan calls out along with half of the crowd.
the girl gasps like he’s just placed a hex on her family. “what? i have never had jam, i’m allergic to raspberries!”
he quarrels back. “there’s alternatives!”
with her pointer finger on her chin, she ponders curiously, evidently searching her mind for a possibility that she may be wrong. “oh! wait… yeah, i’ve had that strawberry one that the caterers give us…”
honest to god, she was not the brightest tool in the shed anyways, so it was quite the achievement to make it this far. chan, on the other hand, has his experience stretching back to six years ago, when he was still a freshmen. he took quite a liking to some of the guys in the fraternity, so he stayed at this college for his postgrad and never looked back. nobody had an issue with him being president for the past 3 years, though; he saw everybody on the lawn as his family. to get this close to victory though, it was worth way more than family in this moment.
“chanel, changbin, out!” his voice carries over to the minibar near the side of the house because the music stops abruptly and only gets started back up when those watching roar, entertained.
“too bad, thanks for participating!” hyunjin pats changbin on the back as he goes straight past chanel and to the side of the house.
seungmin boos them and returns to his cue cards. “channie, it’s your turn,”
“i produce music in my free time, my dream hair colour is blond, my favourite frank ocean album is blond…”
mila continues with her own set of statements. “i have a mole the shape of a four-pointed star behind my ear, i can eat a footlong sandwich in sub one minute and i can do five pirouettes on a clay tennis court.”
it’s now your turn and, in spite of using mila and chan’s time to think of your own truths, your mind goes blank for a little bit. jeongin squeezes your hip, bruising it a little by continuing to use his fingertips to pepper pinches on your skin, but nods encouragingly anyways.
“i major in communications, i have two twin shark plushies called fin and azure, and i really need to itch my nose right now!” you bury your head in embarrassment into jeongin’s shirt, but realise you can easily scratch that part of your nose by rubbing your face into the cotton.
jeongin’s breath catches like it has been doing all day. he fills his lungs with what little air it can hold and begins to talk with a smile on his lips.
“i’m champion rank on overwatch, my favourite colour is green,”
just then, your head lifts to grace his eyes, his vision going blurry around your face. it was like time itself had been building up to this very moment and conveniently ground to a complete collapse. seconds eroding into what felt like hours, jeongin licks his lips.
“and i’m in love with you, y/n.”
two looks — one away and one back at jeongin’s face — abnormally stern and sincere for a chronic smiler like him. it felt different compared to what happened a couple days ago. he didn’t smell like detergent pods with a hint of weed now though. tonka and vanilla bean. a subtle hint of cider from earlier. he smelled like you.
on the contrary, the look he gave you was exactly the same, identical at the very least. his pupils were blown, eyes glassy, his mouth was tugging downwards in random intervals.
“bullshit!”
you call it out even though you were still in the middle of convincing yourself of that supposed fact. everything else told you otherwise, the signs pointed to the possibility that he was telling the truth, but your stomach flutters at the thought and acid threatens to come up if you do so much as speak again.
his mouth forms a crease, the most straight and stable thing about him. the buzz of the fifty-odd people surrounding the singular table fills what would have been awkward silence if you were both alone, but nothing can mask your pounding heart.
those stupid dimples form valleys in his cheeks.
jeongin shakes his head.
nothing prepares you for the immense amount of pressure, suffocating your chest. it’s not peaceful by any means. but it’s the type of pain you would be okay living with for the rest of your life.
felix coughs. “looks like we have our… winners?”
but it’s too late. mila wraps her arms around what portion of chan she can and chan spins her around victoriously. it was no secret that she was not just his secretary but nobody dared to press for further information: seeing this was definitely way more captivating than the confession that jeongin dropped at your feet a few seconds prior. this was because, unlike chan, he had been seen ‘confessing’ his love to girls at most parties in the two years he’s been enrolled, most times butt naked and all times sweaty.
that last part was no exception.
everybody else is ablaze with drinks in hand and the bass booming loud. minho and jisung are already taking turns throwing themselves at each other (take that as you will), hyunjin and changbin have since interlocked arms and are chugging watering cans full of beer and felix, seungmin and chan are putting pong tables aside to clear more space for the dance floor. no focus is on you or jeongin.
well, somebody is focusing on you. that fact hasn’t changed since what happened in the laundry room or since the morning or since flip cup, the three-legged race or bullshit. he undoes the knots holding you together by force. this time, you follow him inside of the sorority house without a word, instead just letting your fingers interlace.
you shut the door behind you and press your palms flat against it as jeongin slowly turns around, no longer uncomfortably backing into the washing machine, but now closing in, just as he longed to do days before this. with everyone else drunk out of their minds, it doesn’t seem like there’s a better time to make a little mistake like this.
“y/n. listen,”
“i don’t want you to think that i want a one-night stand and you won’t be a temporary fix to my permanent problems or whatever you said a couple days ago,”
you chuckle disburdened. “so you admit you have permanent problems?”
he pokes his tongue against the walls of his cheek as his hands find your shoulders and begin their descent down your arms.
“will that convince you to let me show you how much i’m in love with you?”
you nod and mumble a few words in disbelief.
when his lips meet yours, it’s not as frenetic as what you expected: where you assumed jeongin would be impatient, he was slow and precise with his fingers stealthily trailing down to the small of your back as he groaned into each kiss. although the leisurely pace he was going about this was painful, you trusted him. how dumb.
he pulls away. “be a good girl for me and get on top of the dryer. think you can do that?”
his tone is ever so slightly commanding and so you follow his orders.
“mm, what an obedient girl.” he purrs while you push yourself up on top of the metal cube. it patters against the laundry room floor and he rocks your hips towards his own, your legs instinctively going around him.
he nestles his head in between your cleavage, now exposed to the humid air, his lips peppering slobbery kisses to the inside edge of one breast, then the other. you feel his breath on your nipple but, instead of sucking it, his nose bridge ghosts your collarbone.
“fuck, you smell so good y/nnie…” he trembles at the mere scent of your skin. “the things i want to do right now, good god…”
you whine involuntarily, hips rutting so your core can grind against his lower stomach. “jeongin, can you… please— just put it in?”
“you got a condom, baby?”
you blindly grope around the shelves above your head for the stash of protection that you knew the girls kept and regularly used. after struggling for a few seconds, he uses one hand to help and brings one packet to his teeth. his hands are already fumbling with the buttons of your denim shorts and he shimmies them off with rehearsed ease.
but when you just about get over the tedium of waiting for him to go inside of you, he takes the condom and places it to your side. confused, you look at him and, as though he can sense it, he glances up through his eyebrows at you, shaking his head.
“you didn’t think i was gonna give it to you easy, did you baby? you’re not as stubborn as i thought you were, look at you, legs spread for me like that,” he’s got this mischievous smirk on his face while he taunts you.
“relax, relax,” jeongin pulls your panties to the side and sticks his tongue into your slit, slippery with your juices. “i won’t be too mean.”
the feeling of him between your legs is sending you into orbit. he looked so pretty like this, all riled up and evidently in want of something very specific: what it was, you had no idea. how could you even think while he was sucking and flicking at your sensitive nub with his mouth?
he’s making these graphic noises of pure satisfaction, little hums that oscillated and shook you towards the edge.
“innie, shit!” you’re almost there and thrust up to meet his mouth to finally finish.
however, jeongin has other plans.
he withdraws. no sounds are heard apart from the pop from the release of suction around your clit and the muffled music from the yard.
the coil tightened in your stomach exponentially tighter and you almost began to cry at the loss of pleasure.
when you open your eyes after having clenched them shut, he’s got the condom between his teeth once again and rips open the plastic like he’s done this before. although it doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would have.
he slides it on his length, peeking out from the waistband of his boxers until he pulls them further down.
“where do you want me, baby?”
he strokes at his member, tongue sticking out all the while his eyes wander across your figure; first right at your face, then your breasts, then the space between your legs.
“fuck my pussy, just fuck me, shit,” you pant.
he stalks two steps forward and inserts his tip inside of your hole.
“mm, ‘s big, so big, jeongin, i don’t know if i can take it …” your drawls are so drawn-out that the words all seem like they’re a million letters long.
“shh… shh…” he pushes further, deeper inside of you, fucking you open with the sort of unhurried enthusiasm you wish other guys had possessed when you were having sex with them.
in fact, the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes you forget it in a blink.
“what a good girl you are when you listen, but imagine if you gave in when i came to give you flowers?”
“then you wouldn’t be enjoying it as much as you’re enjoying it now,” you say, barely forming words as he finds a brutal rhythm with his hips.
the slap of skin against skin while he sucks at your neck is the perfect combination of inexplicable euphoria. he’s grunting, baring his teeth against the base of your neck and, just when you think the rhythm is steady enough for you to achieve your high, he goes even faster.
“y/n, this cunt is so fucking tight, you’re gonna make me cum!” jeongin hisses.
you claw helplessly at his shoulder blades and ready yourself for your own high, hoping it arrives soon before you begin to lose your mind. like he can decipher your yelping, he goes at maximum speed, destroying your hole so hard you fear that your insides have since taken the shape of his dick.
when you least expect it, at the same time you gasp for air and open your eyes, his hips stutter and warmth fills your vagina: you almost wish you took it raw. finally, you manage to finish. by the time you’ve rode out your high on him, your legs are shaking uncontrollably.
jeongin doesn’t pull out straight away but when he does, he whimpers at the absence of your gummy walls around him. he’s pulling his sweatpants back up and pulls his shirt over you, swaddling you in some unneeded heat yet very necessary cold from the dampness of it.
he stands back, admiring you.
“so, you still wanna see me like i’m a good-for-nothing avoidant?” he teases.
you roll your eyes so far back into your head that it strains a little. “hopefully not, yang jeongin,”
“oh come on, you’ll have to say more than that!” he embraces you fully with his signature grimace, your face buried in his chest. “hey, will you?”
“hopefully not, yang—”
his lips crash onto yours, silencing you. and who are you to protest? those swollen lips of his grace you with enough of his taste to last you a lifetime and he once again takes his time away from kissing you to hold you close, taking a deep breath.
“one more thing: you have to keep wearing this perfume for me, y/nnie.”
“you’ve got it, flower boy.”
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