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MIRROR, MIRROR — yang jeongin

pairing: best friend!yang jeongin x fem!reader genre: smut, humor, fluff word count: 4.5k warnings: fingering (f. rec), choking (f. rec), switch!jeongin, reader is older and the term 'noona' is used, lots and lots of banter, will i ever stop writing best friend jeongin? probably not (in hindsight i guess i will because i probably will never write here again????) — i would like to clarify: this is like. not finished. these warnings are what i had in mind when i first started drafting this in november but i never finished it. i'm just posting it because i don't want it to rot in the drafts!!! this is literally just for me not anyone else. read at your own risk!!!!!!

summary: your best friend is stupid. he is also stupid hot. he is also stupid observant, and when he catches you staring a bit too long at his hands, things get... well, out of hand.

"There's something wrong with your face."

You are going to kill him.

"Shut up."

"Seriously," he insists. "Why do you look like that?"

"Yang Jeongin," you inhale, fighting the urge to smack him. "Shut up."

"Noona, you're really red. Are you sick?"

Sometimes, you wonder why on Earth you decide to keep him around, especially when he says stupid things with the most shit-eating look on his face. Then, you remember that he is possibly the hottest man you have ever seen and that you are a horny bitch, and everything makes sense again. (Plus the fact that he has been your best friend for the past sixteen-plus years, but that's besides the point.)

"I'm perfectly fine," you grit out. "Now shut up and start the movie before I kill myself. Or you. I'm not particular."

The worst part about it all is that Jeongin probably isn't even wrong. You cringe a little thinking about what you must look like. Despite your best efforts, your face has been warm ever since you walked into his bedroom an hour earlier and two very glaring problems became apparent to you.

One: the new floor length mirror that he has installed opposite his bed, a taunting innuendo that sparks only the most lewd thoughts in your already rotting mind.

Two: his hands—with veins that spiderweb deliciously across the back, they have already been the object of your affection for a long time. Only, where you (only barely) are usually able to stop yourself from staring too much in fear of him noticing your down-horrendous behavior, today the mirror enables you, allowing you to sneak looks with no repercussions at all.

The freedom is dangerous, and it certainly doesn't help that Jeongin is wearing the sluttiest outfit he possibly can: gray sweatpants and a shirt so loose and low you can see the curve of his collarbones, the shadow of his chest.

The urge to bite him claws to the surface.

You have long given up on trying to deny the truth. It is simple—you are shamefully, despicably attracted to your best friend. You want to drop to your knees and suck on his fingers and make him beg for you like a pathetic bitch. (You also want to dropkick him into tomorrow and make sure he can't walk for the next 3-5 business days.)

"Thanks for worrying so much about me, Jeongin," he mocks, his voice pitching up in an impersonation of you. "I'm so honored to have such a caring and sexy and hot best friend! What would I ever do without you?"

You narrow your eyes. "Say one more word—"

He rolls his eyes, already pressing play on his laptop before you can finish.

Your gaze snags on the flex of his jaw as he does it, and the words die in your throat. You linger there for a moment too long, barely registering the sound filtering from the speakers until he shifts. The bed dips under his weight as he scoots closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours.

Heat flares through you. All you can focus on is the feeling of his warmth against your skin, even through layers of clothing. The image of him in the mirror only makes it worse—you can see just how close the two of you are, all the places you are touching, all the places you could be touching...

His brow furrowed in the reflection has images of him with a similar expression in a very different position flashing through your mind.

"If you're going to stare at me, noona," Jeongin murmurs, "can you at least blink? It's really freaky when you do that."

"Sorry," you bite out. "Your ugly burns so bad I can't close my eyes."

"You're so obsessed with me it's embarrassing."

Your lip curls and before he can react you pinch his arm, making sure to dig your nails deep into his skin.

A whine squeezes its way through his lips, wiping the smile off of your face.

"Ow!" Jeongin pouts, shoving your hand off of him.

You barely notice, trying your best to force down the desire that sparks inside of you at the sound.

"Stop talking shit and pay attention," you gripe, motioning towards the screen.

An exasperated huff escapes him but Jeongin listens, the pout remaining on his lips even as he falls silent.

Taking a deep breath, you do the same, trying your hardest to pretend like you don't want to jump his bones.

This is normal, really. Nothing you haven't done before. In fact, this scenario has happened so many times before that you have lost count: hanging out with your best friend, watching a movie, sitting on his bed, alone, feeling his leg against yours, fantasizing about his hands between your thighs—

You stare so hard at the laptop screen that you forget to blink. It is only once the dryness starts to burn that you are brought back to yourself.

You are so normal, you think to yourself, and you will not think about Jeongin and his fingers and how long they are and how good they probably feel. You won't!

Somewhere in your delirious haze, you convince yourself that the horny thoughts will disappear if you just don't look at him. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

Which is why you remain resolute in your duty: look at the computer and watch the movie and pretend that Jeongin isn't here. And for the most part, your plan works. You hardly know what is happening on the screen in front of you, but you have managed to calm your heartbeat and pretend like everything is fine, which you consider a win.

And then, Jeongin, the little shit he is, has to go and screw that up too.

It starts with this: him, squirming on the bed next to you. He shifts and moves and practically suffocates you until, with a little giggle, he hooks his ankle over yours and pulls.

"What are you doing?" You ask wearily.

"Nothing." His wide Bambi eyes don't fool you.

You have known him all your life, you can count on one hand the amount of times Jeongin has hugged you, and you have half-internalized his aversion to physical affection yourself. And yet here he is, pressing his thigh against yours, pulling you closer and driving you crazy.

Him initiating skinship—no matter how small—is something that would ordinarily raise red flags, if you were not sure that he is doing this just to annoy you.

“Get off of me,” you wrinkle your nose, giving him a half-hearted shove.

In retaliation, Jeongin pinches the strip of skin on your thigh, right between where your shorts end and the comforter pulled over your lap begins.

The pain burns, reigniting the desire you have spent the past half an hour trying to temper down.

Your breathing shallows as you stare at the way his fingers move from your thigh to his, drumming a rhythm you swear you can feel in your core.

The worst part (best part?) is that Jeongin doesn’t even realize the effect he has on you. Here you are, moments away from panting like a bitch in heat from one touch while he sits without a care in the world.

You are thankful, not for the first time, that he is so oblivious. Although, sometimes you can’t help but wonder what it would be like if he was able to see through you. How would he react? Would he be disgusted, apathetic, intrigued… Turned on?

It is impossible to not look at him now. Your gaze traces his form in the mirror: the stretch of his neck, the swell of his arms, the dip of his stomach and lower still.

"What are you looking at?"

"What?" Your head snaps up.

"The show's been paused for like, five minutes, and you didn't even notice."

Your eyes drift off to the side where Jeongin's laptop lies, closed and out of the way.

"Yes I did."

"Right..."

Your eyes dart back to the mirror, dragging over your twin forms, and your heart leaps into your throat when Jeongin meets your gaze there.

Amusement and something you can't quite place darken his gaze.

"See something you like?"

Your brows slant in a frown. "Just wondering the ginormous mirror is really that necessary."

"I haven't had any complaints so far," he says with so much mirth that your face warms.

"You're disgusting," you lament with a shove. "Where did my precious little baby who was afraid of even the thought of a girl go?"

"Aw, noona, you don't have to be jealous just because I'm getting some and you aren't."

"Brat," you pinch his ear when the grin on his face starts to irritate you too much.

The ow, ow, ow! he lets out is satisfying. Still, you can't hide the way your the flush on your face deepens at the thought of Jeongin having sex.

"It's not my fault you have no game," he pouts.

You scoff. "And who exactly is having sex with you? Your annoying face and brutish hands must be enough to put them off, hmm?"

"Brutish..." He echoes, lifting his hands up to the lighting and flexing his fingers and, you know, just generally driving you insane.

"I've never heard that one," you sort of hear him say over the rush of blood in your ears. "Usually it's sexy, or hot, or sometimes, even really hot."

It's practically inhumane the way that your eyes are drawn to his fingers, the way that your thighs clench as you stare at the defined ridges and valleys of his hands. You want to smack your head against the wall and bite him hard enough to leave teeth marks.

"You're practically a child," you say instead. "No way anyone has ever called you sexy."

You're a big fat liar. You most definitely have called him sexy. In your head. Multiple times. Today.

He frowns. "I'm not even that much younger than you, noona."

"A child," you reiterate.

Jeongin rolls his eyes. "You're so annoying sometimes, you know that?"

And you are still staring at his hands. What would he say if you just... licked them? That would be weird, right?

"What are you—oh," he cuts off when he notices what you have been staring at.

You quickly drag your eyes away, but the damage has been done.

"Dry spell not treating you well?" He teases. "I know you have a thing for hands, but stare any longer and I might think you actually want a kid like me."

You stare, petulantly refusing to grace him with a response.

"You know, it's okay if you're attracted to me," he pushes further, the edge of his voice colored with laughter. "You can admit it."

"Jeongin," you warn.

"What, noona?" He leans in closer, close enough that you can feel his breath. "Too embarrassed to admit that you think me and my brutish hands are sexy?"

Your senses are overloaded and your mind is overrun, so you hardly realize you have turns to face him until your mouth is only centimeters away from his.

"Yes, Jeongin," you lower your voice and bat your eyelashes obnoxiously at him. "You got me. You are so hot and I want you to fuck me as hard as you can."

You stretch out the words enough for it to be obvious that you are being sarcastic (nevermind the fact that you most definitely aren't) and a fragment of delight wedges its way into your chest when his eyes widen, his breath caught in his throat.

What you don't expect is the red hue that rises to his face, nor the way that he suddenly scrambles away from you. The sudden distance is both satisfying and disappointing.

"H-Haha, noona," he squeezes out weakly. "That was good. I almost believed you."

He can't meet your eyes, disposition a complete 180 from the cocky attitude he had only a few moments ago. Something dark and delicious swirls in your gut.

Deliriously, you say, "I wasn't joking."

Jeongin's eyes snap up to you.

"What?"

"I was being serious," you repeat. He looks pale, like he's seconds away from passing out, and yet he doesn't move as you slowly make your way closer to him.

"I don't—"

"If you think about it," you interrupt him, stopping when you are only a few inches away from him. "This is all your fault."

"How—?"

"If you hadn't used your stupid masculine wiles on me, we wouldn't have ended up here in the first place."

"All I did was flex my fingers," he points out with a whisper.

"Exactly!" You exclaim, your eyes drifting down to his hands once again.

Silence falls over the two of you, Jeongin's breathing stuttered as he stares at your face and you stare at his fingers and try not to think too hard about how embarrassing it is that you actually admitted that you're into him.

Then, his frightened expression breaks and he straightens, his hands flexing on purpose as he continues to stare at you.

"Noona..." Jeongin begins, a slow smirk stretching across his stupid face. "You really are obsessed with me."

Your jaw drops and you scoff. "You're so disrespectful."

"That's not a very nice thing to say," he murmurs, inching even closer to you. "What happened to your manners?"

"What happened to yours?" You bite back, hardly able to understand what is happening.

"What do you mean? I'm being so polite right now."

"Jeongin—"

He leans in closer, and a small sound escapes you when his hands land on your knee.

"In fact," he continues. Your lips part when you feel one hand trail slowly up your sides, your arms, until one cups your jaw softly.

"I can think of a lot of other ways to be polite to you."

Your breaths are heavy and his touch is electric against your skin. He maintains eye contact with you, his gaze dark and mirthful in a way that makes you burn.

In one swift move, you wrap your hand around his wrist and yank it away from your face. A soft yelp leaves Jeongin's lips at your tight grip, and you relish the way his eyes widen once again when you push him flat on his back and hold his hand above his head.

"Can you?" You murmur, throwing a leg over his waist to straddle him.

"N-Noona—"

"Not so cocky now, hmm?" You smile, satisfied with the way his lips part slowly. He looks better like this—pliant and helpless below you and not talking shit just because he can.

A frown works its way across his lips as he struggles weakly against you.

"I'm not cocky—"

"Shut up."

His mouth slides shut.

"Much better," you say, satisfied when you notice the reddish hue climbing up his neck.

Your fingers ghost down over the darkened skin, and Jeongin visibly shudders beneath you, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

Ever so lightly, your hand brackets his throat. Your touch is nothing more than an ornament, and you relish the feeling of his throat beneath when he takes an audible gulp.

"You're prettier to look at when you're not talking," you say.

"...So embarrassing," he grouses, but the warmth continues upwards until his cheeks are flushed, too.

"Ah," you click your tongue, leaning in close enough that you can see the exact way his eyelashes brush against his cheek as he squirms beneath you. "Really?"

Jeongin's lips draw together.

"Stop being a fucking tease," he glares up at you.

You raise a brow.

"I hate you," Jeongin continues, pushing up on his elbows. Then, one hand wraps around your wrist and pulls it away from his throat while the other splays an open palm against your hip.

Something electric sparks within you, even as his grip becomes bruising. Treacle-slow, his eyes darken, and then Jeongin's hand slides down from your hips to your ass.

"You're insufferable," he breathes against your lips, and then presses forward, swallowing any retort with the heat of his mouth.

Nothing about the kiss is kind—not the hard press of his lips against yours, the tight grip of his fingers on your ass. It seems as if there are years of frustration radiating out from his very being, and there is something vaguely claiming about how he licks into your mouth.

"Mmm," you breathe against him, shaking your hand free of his grip. Jeongin lets go with ease, taking the opportunity to pull you closer until your chest is flush with his.

Your hands loop around his neck, fingers weaving through the ends of his hair, and his lips trail down the side of your jaw, tonguing messily at the skin there.

"W-Wait," you pant, pulling away slightly. 'This isn't, like, your first kiss, is it?"

"Noona," he groans. "How old do you think I am?"

You are a little distracted by the wet sheen of his kiss-swollen lips.

"It's an important question!" You insist, tugging sharply at the ends of his hair.

Jeongin's head lolls back and for a moment, his eyes drift shut. When they open a moment later, a deadpan look is shuttered in his gaze.

"You can't be serious right now.

"Well, you are just a baby," you frown.

"My tongue was just down your throat and you're still calling me a baby?" He sounds irritated, a muscle in his jaw clenched.

"Um..."

"Right," he rolls his eyes. "In that case..."

He steadies his hold on your hips and then, in one smooth move, turns you around so that your ass is nestled firmly against his crotch and you are facing the mirror across from his bed instead of him. You remain close to Jeongin—perhaps even closer than before, as his thick forearms cord your waist and hold you tight.

"Why don't you watch, noona," his breath is hot against your neck and his eyes are dark when they meet yours in your reflection, "and tell me if you think this is my first time doing this?"

Your mind struggles to reconcile your sweet, dopey best friend with the near-feral man in front of you. Despite all your snarky comments, you know there is no denying that Jeongin is definitely not a little kid, not when his lips move down your jaw to the hollow of your neck, sucking the skin there with such practiced ease that you melt into him with a sigh.

His touch is scalding and the way that you are perched on his lap, perfectly positioned like a toy as you watch him take you apart, is equal parts infuriating and intoxicating.

You hardly know where to look: Jeongin's lips as they drag over your skin, his fingers as they dig into your waist, or your own face—pupils dark and hazy, wide as they stare back at you.

"Do you know how hard it is being friends with you?" He breathes in your ear, meeting your eyes in the mirror.

He looks like he is going to devour you and it takes all your strength to stop yourself from dissolving in the endless pit of his gaze.

"I-I'm a very friendly person," you somehow manage.

His teeth sink into the side of your neck.

"That the problem, isn't it?" He murmurs.

Your mouth falls open as his fingers drag upwards, settling on the bare expanse of your neck.

"You're so friendly, so oblivious, that you can't even tell when someone is into you."

"Not true—!"

His hand tightens and your sentence chokes off at the feeling of his hand firm around your throat. You squirm in his lap, canting your hips down as much as you can with the way he holds your waist.

Jeongin chuckles, a sound that reverberates through your very being.

"Noona, I've been obsessed with you for the past ten years. Been trying to do this for the past five."

His hand falls away from your throat in favor for your jaw, cupping it with such uncharacteristic tenderness that your heart flip-flops inside of your chest.

Then, he carefully turns your face towards his, until all you can see are the depths of his star-glazed eyes and the undercurrents of a feeling that looks oddly like affection swirling within them.

"You're fucking with me," you whisper, feeling lightheaded from the proximity of him, the implication of his works, the cocktail of emotions in your gut—maybe even all of the above.

"I'm not," he whispers back.

His gaze is searching, and you get the vague feeling that this is Jeongin laying himself bare before you.

"You mean the world to me. You're—you're my best friend," you say to him.

"And you're mine," he echoes.

The weight of what you haven't said stretches out, until the tension finally snaps.

"I think," you begin, stilted. Your face screws up in a frown, as if the words physically pain you. "I think I... like you."

The floor falls out below the both of you, and you watch as galaxies blossom in Jeongin's eyes. You feel a bit sick, even as you watch a smug expression settle over his face.

"Really?" He teases. There is a smirk on his lips, but the edges feather out into something innocent, delicate. You want to bottle it up and save it forever. "Even though I'm just a baby to you?"

"Nevermind," you shake your head. "I take it back. I don't like you at all."

But the damage is already done.

"You can't take it back, noona," he says gleefully. "I know all your secrets now."

"You don't know anything," you scoff, twisting around in his lap. Your cheeks are warm and you can't tell if you are embarrassed or overjoyed or a strange, twisty combination of both.

"I do," he insists, his expression sharpening into something feline and predatory. His gentle caress of your jaw crystallizes into something weightier.

"I know you."

Your eyes narrow. His fingers are firm on your face, and still they slip away when you turn to the side. Jeongin barely has the chance to react before your lips wrap around his index and middle finger, sucking them slowly as you gaze up at him from beneath your lashes.

You are rewarded by a sharp intake of breath and the beautiful image of his wide eyes, pupils dark and blown out. Your tongue laves slowly around the digits in your mouth and he groans, his eyelids fluttering shut.

A moment passes before they open and he hooks his fingers to the side, focused on the way your tongue peeks out from between your lips.

His fingers remain there for a moment before pulling out completely.

"I definitely like you, just for the record," he says, voice hoarse, and then his mouth smashes into yours again.

The kiss is just like the first and yet so, so different. Jeongin's hands hold you tight against him as he consumes you, but where the last kiss was full of frenzy and hunger, this one is raw and hazy around the edges. Still desperate, but no longer edged with bitterness. His mouth tastes sweet as honey as he swallows your gasps, his tongue licking against the back of your mouth.

"Y-You're never going to get rid of me now," you huff out as the kiss breaks, a tendril of saliva stretching between your glossy mouth and his.

"Wasn't planning on it," his grin is devious, and then a moment later, his mouth is back on yours.

You drape an arm around the back of his neck and your fingers twine in the feather-soft ends of his hair, tugging there while his sloppy kisses spike pure heat in your veins. Jeongin's grip tightens on your waist and the hand on your jaw traces down your body. An appreciative groan slips through when he reaches your chest, but he only hovers a moment there before continuing down, down, down, until his fingers dance along the waistband of your shorts.

"I can do a lot more than that with my fingers," he pulls back, panting against your open mouth. "Want me to show you?"

"God, yes."

You can feel the outline of his smirk against you when he dips beneath the waistband of your bottoms. The hardly-there touch of his fingers against your bare skin is a sock to your system.

Your every sense is in overdrive and you hardly know what to focus on—the rapid beat of your heart, the feeling of Jeongin's solid and firm frame behind you, or his hand, which continues its path until he runs the pad of his fingers over your clothed core.

"Are you this wet just from the thought of me?"

Jeongin mouths against your neck as his fingers begin light ministrations against you. He barely applies any pressure, circling you ever so softly with no real rhythm. It has you shifting in his lap, searching for more.

"Didn't know someone like me could turn you on so much, noona."

"I don't know where you learned to talk like such a douche, but—hah, you should, mmm... r-really stop it..."

He doesn't stop.

"You've been so mean to me for the past few years," he says instead. "Don't you think it's my turn?'

And then finally, his fingers slip between your panties and your skin, touching you fully.

"Ah, Jeongin—"

"Yes?"

His hand stills and you bite back a groan of frustration.

"Nothing."

"Hmmm...."

Jeongin drags his fingers upwards, pressing a harsh circle against your clit that has you jerking against you, and then he moves away again.

"Jeongin," his name leaves your lips again with a pant, and your hands wrap around his wrist, gripping as tight as you can.

"Did you need something?" He asks.

"Stop being a fucking tease," you say through clenched teeth.

"Me? A tease?" He says, faking innocence. "I would never."

"Liar," you bite. Then, before he has a chance to retaliate, you grind your hips down, dragging your ass against his crotch. He hisses at the friction against him and you smile, feeling just how hard he is in his pants.

"I thought you've been wanting this forever," your voice is half-breathless, half-smug.

"Aren't you going to touch me like you mean it?"

The hand on your hip tightens and the bite of pain sends another wave of arousal straight through you. You see the exact moment your words hit him when his head lifts and your eyes meet, his dark pupils blown out.

You feel that moment, a few seconds later, when his fingers begin moving again, this time much firmer and more precise than before.

“You never let me have my fun, noona,” Jeongin groans, dipping lower until the pads of his fingers are circling your entrance.

“Shut up and let me have my fun,” you sigh, your body melting against his.

“Your wish is my command,” he gripes sarcastically, but his words are cut off by the breathless gasp that escapes your lips when he pushes one finger into you.

“Are you always this tight?” He asks, strangled.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

(and then like if i ever had finished this they would fuck. i did not finish it. they will forever be stuck in limbo just like this account. rip. as a consolation prize: here is the rest of my outline

[Inside -> look in mirror -> very hot sexy -> nice fun sexy dialogue banter -> finish! -> Let me help you -> nooooo (already came in his pants lol) -> ha, jeongin I think you’re the one obsessed with ME]

anyways. ur welcome)

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