Business, Photography and Muscles - SKZ FRATHOUSE part 1, part 2
pairing: fratboy!jeongin x reader(f) x fratboy!seungmin
genre: college au, smut, eventual romance (crazy)
special event w my girl @enchantedlov3r2 <3
sypnosis: having had a single boyfriend throughout the span of your life, and that experience ending absolutely disastrously - you decided to take on the easiest approach - to hide underneath a social mask, and to avoid hot guys. especially the second solution. but what happens when you happen to get paired up with not one, but two members of the skz frathouse for a project? will you make it out? will you be able to survive when the rest starts to slowly register themselves in your everyday one by one, till the option of choosing isn't yours anymore.
word count: 17.8k
warnings: SMUT. dom!seungmin, dom!jeongin, sub!reader, perverse thoughts, jealousy issues, possessiveness, reader is embarrassing and a loser (in a nice way i suppose), lots of internal monologue, frat boys, teasing, they are MEAN, kind of bullying, nerdy interests, unprotected sex(wrap it up), lots of making out, dry humping, oral (both f and m rec), threesome, drool, porn with plot, p in v, dacryphilia, rough sex, loss of virginity, some objectification, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, rivalry, prob more that i missed
didnt proofread more than once
Ever since you started college, you’ve had one wish. One.
At every thanksgiving, every blow of candles, and every time the clock ticked 11 11. You would ask one single thing.
And that is for an improvement towards your sex life. Actually. To have one to begin with.
Having no experiences with guys, except once. Tragic. Extremely tragic one-time experience back in your senior year of high-school. Where you had this guy in your bedroom, kissing. It was hot, the way his lips brushed against yours was mouth watering. His tongue danced alongside yours, hands on your hips, fingers swiping underneath your shirt. Your back pressed against the desk when you accidentally bumped into your book collections. You hadn’t noticed at that time, frenzied by the heat of the moment, but he did. His body suddenly still, resembling a statue.
Mortified. You or him? Him because he found your disgusting stack of porn magazines scattered all over the floor. Or you because he found YOUR disgusting stack of porn magazines scattered all over the floor. Each sheet challenged the last in terms of vulgarity.
He had told you something that day, you can’t recollect what exactly. But you do remember the aftermath. And how ruined the rest of your year went, walking around with the title of ‘Femcel’ tagged to your back.
Now that you look back at it, it shouldn’t have been that controversial for a woman to be into this sort of content. But time has changed. And so did you.
Well, not really — but at least you're a player at hiding it. Now keeping your materials under your bed, drawers and closet. At first sight, your bedroom is the epitome of normalcy unless one digs in a shove deeper. Your book collections are filled with literacy media, and the art of photography. A mask, just like the one you put up at social interactions when you’re truly raging inside.
Nobody can know about the refuge you seek in your collections, touches, and laptop. Your beloved laptop — the one that holds many of your dirty secrets, and that you consult as soon as you return from a hard, hard day.
You can’t fumble this. College is a fresh start. Deciding to stick to your personal daily routine, within the blanket of your fantasies and delusions as soon as the sun sets, snuggly shielded from the outside world.
You’re almost proud of yourself for keeping up the act for almost a year now, and even having made some friends on campus. However, still no man. That’s your sole remorse, but perhaps it's for the better. Being around attractive guys gets you… strange. You’d rather not repeat the accident from years ago and increase the risk of being seen as a creep again.
—
Life is mocking you. It's got to be. You’re sure it’s laughing and pointing at you right now as you slam your fists on your professor’s counter.
“Ma’am, I can’t!” You protest, a bead of sweat rolling down your neck from how much you’ve been begging her for the last ten minutes.
She groans, tapping her heels against the tiles, rolling her chair in annoyance. “It’s just a project, miss. You've always aced them before. Why not now?”
“I can! I will.” You contradict yourself—but you have a valid reason! “Please let me change partners. I’m on my knees,” you whine, holding your hands together in a plea.
“For the last time. I can not do that. Your names have already been put together,” she replies, eyes serious and exhausted. Sinking back into her seat with a harsh intake of air.
“Pleeease,” you sob. Praying to whoever that is above, if there is someone, to hear your prayers, and to shake the mind of the middle aged woman before you. The middle-aged woman who is in absolute disbelief as we speak.
“Enough! This is worth your finals. Continue and I'll deduce your overall marks,” she snaps, rubbing her temples from an incoming headache. “You’re such a good student. What’s with you today?”
You press your lips together, arms falling to your sides in deflation. “Sorry. I understand...” It comes out as weak, defeated.
Wobbling your way back to your class, picturing yourself in an empty street—kicking imaginary pebbles and scrubbing in your misery.
How can you tell her that you absolutely cannot be paired with the Kim Seungmin from the baseball team, and the Yang Jeongin from the football team, because of how you act and how you think? And how you’re afraid of scaring them away and tarnishing your last bits of social reputation — since they belong to what you've been entirely avoiding ever since you stepped here.
The top hierarchy of the school.
A frathouse. Not just any, Stray Kids’ frathouse, the eight best athletes of the school. Being a weirdo to them, ruining your reputation, means being a weirdo to everyone who sets foot on this campus.
You're doomed.
You swear that you aren’t partaking in that. That you'll find a solution, anyhow, and get out of this situation. You swear—
Unfortunately, here you are: sitting across from Kim Seungmin.
Jeongin hasn’t arrived yet, having to meet his coach beforehand, to which you are thankful towards for giving you prepping time.
The silence is deafening, awkward. Your sweaty palms flat on the wooden surface, trying your best not to constantly shuffle on the cushions of your seat, since the sound is embarrassing enough.
“So,” Seungmin breaks the silence, pen in hand.
His fingers absently click the edge, the noise loud in your head as you try not to stare at the length of them—how he uses his thumb to randomly flicker cap in a gentle rub.
“Yn?” he calls, snatching you from your intruding thoughts.
Your gaze snaps to his, breath catching unnecessarily. “Yes–?” You stammer, hoping that he didn’t catch on you gawking at his hands.
“You’re from Photography, right?” He asks, looking right at you.
If his aim is to make you even more nervous. It is working.
“Yes! How did you know?” You nod hastily, forcing a smile, voice raising a tad too much.
He blinks, brows furrowing. You can almost smell the embarrassment you’re about to face judging from his reaction alone.
“It’s written right here…” He points to the paper before you, underlining ‘Ln Yn: Photography Major’ with the tip of his pen.
You suck in your lips, smile lopsided. Cringing. “Right. Thought so,” you crisp out. If it was so obvious, then why ask?!
“Anyway,” he mumbles, taking a breath. “The project. Do you have any ideas?”
“Right now? I thought we were supposed to wait for Jeongin,” you ask, confused from the sudden change of plans.
He glances over your shoulder, across the room, nudging his head forward. “He’s here.”
You face backwards to find Jeongin strolling forward, drink in hand.
The drink is cold, water droplets drip down his fingers. His grip on the cup is soft yet firm, the cup crumpling slightly under his hold. Weirdly attractive… No. Snap out of it, yn!
“Hey, what’s up?” he greets Seungmin first, shaking his hand with the free one. “Sorry, coach held me back,” he quickly apologizes, setting his belongings by the table before plopping down on the bench next to Seungmin.
Seungmin eyes him, raising a brow. “Looks more like that drink held you back,” he states, leaning heavy against the backrest, making himself comfortable. “Ain’t no way you lined up for that again.”
Jeongin scoffs, wiping the bangs sticking before his eyes. “Does it matter? I’m here now,” he replies, a tug of a grin forming when he finally notices your presence. “Oh. You are?” he asks, staring as if he was trying to decipher if he had ever seen you on campus before.
You’re about to reply when Seungmin cuts you, shallow annoyance grazing his tone. His tongue clicks. “I told you about her. She's the girl from photography,” he adds, hand aimlessly pointing at you.
It doesn’t seem to light any bulb inside his head, completely unaware of who you are. Now this is insulting. You’re a little hurt.
It’s okay… it must be because you kept it low at all costs. Avoiding guys like them. Not because of them, but you.
Their presences are a gateway towards cringe and awful interactions.
“Photography… I didn’t know that you preferred artistic girls. Your last girlfriend was pretty uncreative.” He says with an understanding nod, his smile never dropping.
You almost choke on your saliva. Your closed fist meets your lips, having to silently cough it out. The thought of you dating Kim Seungmin. He’s joking, it’s unreal. But tempting.
Your imagination betrays you, again.
You wonder if he would wait for you after your classes. Or if he would ask you to come see him after his baseball practice, all drenched in sweat from playing, asking you to hold his cap. His ungloved hand running through his wet hair as you stare in awe.
“You good, baby?” he’d ask you, waving his glove before you.
Calling you back to Earth.
A harsh sound. A snap of fingers, maybe.
“Hey— you good?”
You jolt up. Brought back from reverie with their stares glued to your figure. Skepticism to mild concern etching their expressions.
“All good— No worries…” you blurt out, clearing your throat to find your voice.
Jeongin hums, though he doesn’t seem to buy it. “I’m Jeongin. Yang Jeongin,” he introduces.
You give him a sound of acknowledgement, as if the entire campus doesn’t already know his name from being the goal keeper of the school. Being one of the most valuable members of the club, the youngest and the fairest. He’s known for attracting most of the fans and supporters, everybody rooting for his cheeky smile and cute dimples. And undeniably, the golden boy of the frathouse, introducing himself is stupid. But he's polite, you give him that.
“Back to the topic. How do we correlate our different majors?” Seungmin asks, looking at Jeongin then you, “Sports Science, Photography and… Business.”
“The project's main idea is teamwork, right? Hmm,” Jeongin ponders, leaning forward onto the table. “Not clicking,” he mutters, resting his face on his palm, the other bringing his drink back to his lips. His plump lips, rosy and hydrated, seals the straw— sucking in the liquid. His Adam apple bobs with each swallow, some of the liquid catching at the corners of his lips.
You slip your hands under the table, fist bunching the fabric of your pants as they discuss the topic between themselves. Not bothering to ask you. You need to knock it out. And think. Properly this time.
Your focus drifts on the papers before you, the subject of the project. How does teamwork connect to you? To them. The careers they’ve been building. Your interests. Your interests?
Bingo!
“Uhm. I have an idea,” you interrupt, raising your hand from under. Nervous with how their chatter dies out, their full focus drawn to you. “You guys know how companies create merch for their athletes and teams. To promote them and stuff. They take pictures of them, and then bring them to the market to create cards for people to collect.”
They nod tentatively, intrigued by your statement. You squirm, not used to this. But you go on. “And sometimes, they have the coaches give statements about training and how the team cooperates to put on the magazines. I think...” your gaze shifts to Jeongin, lost in what you’re saying, “they teach that in Sports Science, coaching?”
He nods.
“So, what do you want to do with that?” Seungmin asks, noting down your ideas.
“I was thinking. Maybe we could create a magazine featuring the school’s athletic teams. If you’re okay with that,” you reply, hopeful.
They simultaneously smile, letting out an impressed ‘woah’.
“That’s actually a pretty solid idea,” Seungmin admits.
“That's cool,” Jeongin agrees, “You’re into sports? You don’t strike me as the type.” That last comment would have been snarky if it wasn’t situational. Choosing to ignore it.
“Ahh, not exactly.” you reply, coy. Who knew all these years of collecting players’ photocards would benefit you like this? How you used to fight day and night to get enough money to complete your sets.
You can’t help the tiny grin that curls your lips at their compliments, trying not to be too smug about this accomplishment. A small step is enormous for an ant. Progress is progress.
The rest of the session blinks by, the atmosphere easing up as you dive into the work. Soon, the cafeteria is less crowded, the students leaving one after another.
A vibration breaks your flow, attention shifting to where it originates.
“Oh, it's Chan. Said he is back to the dorms,” Jeongin says, phone in hand. Not giving any of you the chance to interfere, “I have to go,” he adds, already packing his belongings. He stands up, pulling his bag strap over his shoulder. “See you guys around?”
He's gone. Here you are alone with Seungmin again.
You glance around to find only a few students left, roaming the surroundings. Damn. How much time went by?
“You should go too. It's getting late,” Seungmin mentions, bringing the scattered documents from the hard surface together.
“Yeah, I'll get going then,” you reply, heaving from your seat, ready to turn on your heels in the opposite direction when he halts you.
“Wait, not so fast,” he sighs, standing up. “Give me your phone.”
You freeze. “What?” Why?! Does he know what's in it… is it obvious you're that type of person?
He squints at your bewildered expression, “To put my number in.”
To put my number in.
Oh. oh.
Those words will be engraved into your memory, forever. No matter the context, it doesn't matter when Kim Seungmin just asked for your number.
“Why do you keep zoning out? Do you have issues?” He grimaces at your slow blinking, as if you're entranced in some la-la-land.
“Your number? I couldn't possibly… I mean— I totally would but!” You reply with a laugh, waving your hand shyly to hide your abashed expression, rubbing the tip of your shoe nervously against the floor.
He scoffs, feeling the frustration bubbles behind his eyelids, hoping to dissipate it with a rub. Unbelievably unprofessional. “I need it to text you. To know when you're free for the next meet up. To create a group chat. Not to ask you out,” he inhales, letting out a big exhale. Gigantic even.
But not as gigantic as the hole you wish you to dig yourself into. Your head falls, closing your eyes momentarily. Out of sight, out of mind.
“Can I have it now?” He asks, his patience running thin.
Shamefully, you reach for your pocket, opening the contact app before handing it to him. He dials himself, the ringtone rings against your eardrums, shattering them. At least, it feels that way.
You avoided peeking at him all the way out, head hanging low. It was going so well.
You pray to wipe this whole interaction from your brain, to crash into a bus and suffer from amnesia. Taking back the oath of engraving into your memory forever. Should've known better than to think that, because this interaction will keep you up at night. For at least a few years if not forever.
You groan; slapping the heels of your palms against your forehead repetitively. “So embarrassing,” whining, in disbelief of what you had said back then. Shuffling with your cards to find the one for your dorm. The door clicks open and you're met with the sight of your roommate.
“You're back. I was just about to message you,” she exhales in relief, “I'm staying over at my boyfriend's tonight. Don't go anywhere and watch over the dorm.” Grabbing her shoes, putting them on. “Oh, and yn— feed my dog for me? You know where her food is,” she points to the top shelf in the kitchen before walking out of the door in a hurry, “thank you!”
She's gone. Her voice echoes down the hallway. Her audacity vibrates louder, booming.
You click your tongue, throwing your bag on the couch. Kicking the footing, only to hurt yourself in the process. This day can't get lamer. “What did I even do to deserve this sort of bad karma,” you sigh, rubbing off the sweat beads across your face.
You look down when you feel something lick at your ankle, Cassie, her dog. You're stuck in a loop where she goes out, tells you to watch over the dorm and her dog while she's busy getting laid. That one time when you hoped to object, she had told you “You never go out anyway. You're literally glued to your room.”
You hate that she's right.
“Stupid dog, stupid project, stupid boys,” you mumble in your misery just as your phone buzzes. You jump a millimeter. Startled.
A group chat has been made.
Seungmin:
hey
i put the notes we made earlier on my laptop, sending it rn
Unknown number:
so fast. are you that excited about the project??
Seungmin:
unlike you, i care about my grades
You assume the other number is Jeongin, fingers pressing onto the ‘save contact’ option. Then deciding otherwise, not yet, it'd seem desperate.
Jeongin:
yn, you here?
Seungmin:
she's probably spaced out as we speak
Jeongin:
i theorise she's ai
notice how she mostly talked when it was about studying
You gag, stifling out a laugh. What??
Seungmin:
yeah right
at least she's got brain and contributed
something you can't relate to…
You lick the dry skin peeling at your lips, swallowing empty saliva. Thumb hovering across the screen.
You:
i’m not ai
Jeongin:
woah you're actually here
only ai answers when prompted btw
You pause in wonder regarding which approach to take in this situation. Something sweet, or perhaps mysterious?
“Hard no,” you mumble, shaking off the idea.
You spend the next few minutes mulling over how to reply. Overthinking it, staring at the last message as you plop down on your bed. Laying down on the sheets, holding a pillow comfortably on your stomach. Except that nothing is comfortable.
A ping knocks you out.
Seungmin:
there she goes again
i'm the business major student here but she’s the one taking business days to reply
we can see you reading those texts, you know that right?
You wince, fingers tapping against your screen for the simplest answer in the notebook.
You:
sorry
Seungmin:
whatever
Whatever.
when are you guys free?
Jeongin:
uhh
tomorrow? after practice tho
Seungmin:
me too
preferably after 6 p.m
what about yn?
You:
i have club activities after class
6 p.m works for me, might be a little late
Jeongin:
ok and where do we meet?
the cafeteria closes early on fridays
Seungmin:
felix will have people in tomorrow for his own project. he put props on the dorm first
Jeongin:
just asked chan hyung
he's out tomorrow, come to mine
Seungmin:
okay okay
Your heart rushes at the thought of spending the evening at Jeongin’s place, never having been to a boy's room before. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to calm your giddiness. This is nothing to get excited about.
Right…
You:
can someone send the room number
Jeongin:
i'll do it, wait
You roll onto your back, phone tight in your shaking fingertips. Watching the dots appear as Jeongin types in his dorm allocation.
Jeongin:
room 208
see u guys there
—
It’s 6:58 p.m.
Now 6:59 p.m and you’re standing outside of the dorm with 208 plastered on top. It’s the right one, you’re sure of it. Most of them frat dudes reside around those spaces, anyone could get out of their room and find you awkwardly staring at the grayish surface, knuckles itching to knock already.
You can't help the thought that this is a joke, and that they gave you the wrong dorm number despite every link proving otherwise.
You’re on the verge walking back to your place, fingers squeezing the strap of your bag when a hand reaches past you, swiping a student card in. The door clicking open. Jumping out of your skin as something broad and warm meets your back, getting caged by a body and the door. You wonder which side the door is, with how hard his chest is to your back.
Jeongin.
He surges forward, muscles grazing against you. His hair prickles at the skin of your nape. Cursing when he collides with you softly. Too close, way too close.
Your breath is stolen, in a torturous method as your lungs refuse to get back to work.
“You gon’ get in or not?” he asks your statue-like figure. He sounds oblivious to the proximity, tone shifting to mild irritation when you take too long to budge.
Urging you inside, rough hands instinctively wrap themselves around your shoulders to move you inside. “There you go,” he praises, the tone quiet enough to jolt your stomach. He takes you to the couch, sitting in the common room. “Make yourself at home.” he smiles, dimples flashing. He accommodates you so casually, you ponder how casual it is for people like him to bring others over.
You try to ease up as he visits the kitchen to fetch you something to drink, sinking deeply into the couch. Finally catching a breather. Well. You thought.
A door swings open, revealing a not-so-subtle semi-naked Chris.
Chris. Fucking Christopher Bahng Chan — basically the leader of their cult — house, emerges from his room, struggling to tug his shirt down in a rush. His pants hang low, v line flexing with each stride. Abs on full display.
Mouth foaming. Pupils fixing anywhere but his direction, clearly failing at doing so cause you make eye contact with his body first, then him.
He gets the shirt on at last, grabbing a bag off the couch when he notices you. Eyes you. His gaze drifts to Jeongin coming back from the kitchen with cans of soda, shooting him a knowing grin. Jeongin replies with a tsk, “She's here for the project, hyung. I told you about it.”
Chris shrugs, feigning innocence. “I didn't open my mouth.” His shirt is still slightly ruffled, showing a hint of milky skin. Your mouth runs dry. “But you, you did tell me only Seungmin was up for the project.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Jeongin scoffs, handing you one of the cans. Though, his attention is on the older man as he drops on the couch carelessly, his legs spreading wide. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Why are you still loitering around?” Jeongin comments, his lip curling back at Chris.
You focus on the coldness of the can in your palm, and not on how your thighs are pressed tightly from trying to keep a distance from Jeongin’s. The temperature of his body seeps through the fabric of his pants, steaming on the exposed skin of your thighs, the fabric of your shorts had hiked up as you sat down earlier — questioning your choice of outfit for today. It’s hot. That’s why. Extremely hot, actually.
Chris’ grin never falters, humming in response. “You're right. I just happened to have noticed how flustered she seems. Thought I'd let you know,” he teases before swiftly escaping through the main entrance. Setting you up for your downfall with each syllable that left his mouth.
Jeongin shifts towards you, arms draped on the couch's backrest. Behind you. Holy shit. You hold your bag closer to your stomach. Almost hugging it. “Uncomfortable?” he asks, studying your face.
You shake your head in denial, giving him a tight — and unfortunately, very uncomfortable smile. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, still facing you. “Wanna go to my room? There’s air conditioning there.”
Your expression contorts to subtle confusion, hesitant.
“I mean,” his eyes involuntarily skim across your attire briefly before snapping back at you. Your tank top hugs your form, thighs spilling out of your shorts, leaving little to imagination. “You must be feeling hot, right?”
Swallowing, your fingers twitch on the can, the condensation drizzling on your skin — much like the beads of sweat breaking on your back. “Uhm, I'm not sure—”
“You aren't?” he asks, cocking his head in a way that speaks he isn't buying it. Slit eyes observe you, as if he was taking in your appearance for the first time. His arm raises, tilting towards you, and you nearly flinch back. “Relax,” he whispers, the back of his hand making contact with your forehead. If you weren't breathing heavily before, you are now. Gulping excessively, the saliva runs dry fast enough to break world records. Create new records, whatever. You're sure that if he leans a blink closer, he'd hear your thumping heartbeat. He must be, because his attention lands on your heaving chest for a second. A period of a smile catching at his lips as he finally leans back down when the front door bursts open. Casual, just like that. Pretending that he wasn't gawking at your flushed state.
“Ever cared to knock?” Jeongin voices, loud in an attempt to seem annoyed at whoever is approaching.
“Didn't care yesterday, definitely won't today,” Seungmin replies, throwing his bag and himself on the opposite couch. “I'm dead,” there's a rasp in his tone, catching his first breath today. Lips parted, much inviting as he faces the both of you. His eyes travel to your flushed expression, your own focus on the label of the soda can, avoiding his gaze — much worse than the day before — then to Jeongin's act at appearing oblivious, pointless to someone who has known him for years. “What'd you do?”
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Jeongin sighs, and Seungmin curls a brow, leaning forward in your direction. Facing you.
“Is he messing with you, instead of focusing on the project?” his tone doesn't sound much reprimanding, if you had to be honest.
You shake your head, muttering out a quick no. He hums. “Sure seems that way.”
“He wasn't—” you let out, though you're well aware that he was. All three of you are well aware of that, the quiet tch of disbelief Seungmin lets out doesn't escape you either.
Jeongin sighs, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Hyung, it's too hot, yeah? Let's just go to my room.”
—
You’re inside a guy’s room.
You.
Inside.
A guy’s room.
Ahem. Yang Jeongin’s room to be clear.
Maybe those prayers did work, your endless begs for mercy getting paid off at last, or maybe it's the opposite.
It's hard to decipher hell from heaven in this context. He had said to come here because it was hot, but somehow, your skin flushes with heat despite the rumbling A.C. Eyes following and noticing every corner and spots of his room, from the posters to his unusual collection of shoes.
Okay, yeah. Didn’t picture him as a shoe enthusiast.
Sitting on the floor, you come to peek at his slightly ajar drawer, a thread of clothes inching out. The entire area smells like him — not like you were registering his scent, but his cologne is quite recognisable. A faint scent of boys and something floral. Sweet. Intoxicating. You sit a bit tighter, urging the unease out of your nerves.
Something nudges you, a pen. Flicking at your skull as if touching you would infect them with your disease — at least, in your perspective. You’re met with curious eyes, a dot of a grimace engraving Seungmin’s expression, but there’s also a hyphen of concern. “Focus,” he scolds you, as if he knew your thoughts inside-out. You wince internally. “Brought your camera?”
Nodding, you dart around to find where you had put it. “Yeah, it’s—uhm.”
You blink harshly, your soul nearly flying out when he closes some distance. His arm reaches behind you, prisoning you between his body and the edge of the bed. For a second— a second, you swear he looks at you, his gaze holding your widened ones before he gets hold of your camera on the mattress. A ghost of his breath fanning on your skin as he hands the camera before you. “Here,” he asserts, offering. You pick it up with a trembling hand, trying to tighten the muscles the best you can. To stop the tremor but it escapes none.
Though, they don’t mention it. You’re thankful for that.
Somehow, the rest of the conversation blurs with ideas. You had made a plan for the magazine, showing them the pictures you snapped, the sceneries, the flowers, everything usual and expected. They’re impressed, having shifted closer before you can realize so. To the extent of trapping you on both sides, trying not to think much about it as they lean down to take a better look at the screen.
You should’ve brought your laptop. Who told you to show them on such a small device?
“Hmm, noona you're talented,” Jeongin says, not giving you much time to react to the sudden honorifics, except for a fumbling heartbeat before Seungmin interjects.
“But,” Seungmin interjects, his index swiping on the digital screen, “have you ever taken pictures of people?” his voice ghosts on your skin, hot and heavy next to your ear.
“I—” memory hits you. Snapping people? No, not really. However, you did collect and analyse enough magazines to be confident about your skills. Though… “No.”
He hums in response, staring over your shoulder to Jeongin. Their eyes meet, a careful exchange that escapes your attention lingers. “Say,” the younger interrupts, “Do you want to try with us?”
Do you want to try?
With us.
“Try what?” there’s a hitch in your throat. Awfully aware that you’re being delusional—again. But they’re standing so close, it’s hard not to get the wrong idea. “To take pictures?”
“Of us,” he says, his breath merging with yours.
“I don’t know— I haven’t taken anyone’s picture like that before—” you hate yourself for stuttering. Gosh, you do. But you can’t find your voice. Not when Seungmin leans a breath closer, you urge backwards only to be met with Jeongin’s body.
“Hm, wasn’t that your idea?” Seungmin asks, his calloused hand finding yours on the camera, the roughness of his skin from training brushes on you. Pretending not to notice the shakiness in which you hold the object as he guides your thumb to the shutter. Your heart thumps. “To click us into memory, make a magazine, whatever you wanted to do.” His voice is lower, soothing and lighting the nerves in your muscles simultaneously. Somehow.
Would it be wrong to get turned on?
It's so sudden, too sudden. It's nothing, but at the same time it's too much for you. You who grasps on every tiny detail. It's like they're aware of that.
You can barely think, barely register what they’re saying. Perhaps you speak, but it comes off as inaudible, face flushing when the chest behind you stutters. A huff. Two huffs then a laugh. You blink, and they’re both cackling at your expression.
“Hyung, you’re so fucking mean.” Jeongin wheezes, his hands landing lightly on your back as he tries, and fails to seem sorry. “Look at her face, oh my god.”
Oh.
Seungmin sneers. “You started it, Jeongin-ah. Why are you blaming me?” he asks, a faint smirk clings to his lips.
Why did you come here? Right. Stupid project. What’s worse? It’s the coil in your stomach refusing to dissipate as they play right in your face.
You let out a weak, awkward laugh and drop your forehead into your palms. “That’s… really funny,” you mutter dryly. “Hilarious.”
Should’ve accepted failing the class.
The humiliation sinks in as their own chuckles die out. To say you got this dizzy over that — the built up teasing from the past hours participating in. Seungmin grazes your arm and you nearly jerk away from both of them. “Hey—” he starts when you refuse to even lift your head. You can barely hear him through your ringing embarrassment.
“It was a joke,” Jeongin clears, attempting to soften his voice. “Sorry,” he glances at Seungmin, silently signaling him.
“You good?”
Of course he’d ask that.
You nod way too hard. “Yeah, I’m okay.”
“You sure…? You don’t seem so–”
“I am,” you state. Feeling like an easy, bummed loser.
Your phone rings before any of them can start another sentence. For the first time today, you could kiss your roommate for existing. Snatching the opportunity like a lifeline, “I’ve got to go. Pet care-taker duties,” you excuse, scramble to your feet and grab your camera despite their growing confusion.
“Pet caretaker—?”
This is rash, but anyone would react that way right?
Perhaps not.
You’re on your way out when Jeongin’s fingers catch the hem of your top for a second in an attempt at slowing you. “Wait, hold on—” alas, it inches down and you gasp.
Jeongin’s eyes widen at the sudden action, yanking his hand back immediately. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him blush before, but a light pink coats his ears. “Shit—sorry.”
Seungmin coughs, clearing his throat. However, it does nothing at hiding his amusement. “The project, are you coming back tomorrow–?”
You gulp, indecisive with how your gaze darts to the corner of the room, plastering the image of his wall inside your mind. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know,” and with that you leave the room, slamming the front door shut with the heaviness of your steps.
There’s a silence that whistles through the room. Seungmin turns to Jeongin, bobbing his head to his side. “Think we killed it,” there's a questioning undertone in his voice, a question he's seeking Jeongin for validation.
Jeongin shrugs, resting back on his palms, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. His head hangs low, his bangs hiding his unusual flush, “–Don’t know. I thought it was funny.”
Seungmin nods briefly, eyeing the younger. “You know what's more hilarious?” he asks, shifting closer.
“What?”
“Your face, are you flustered? Ayen…” he teases, being annoying. “Did she fluster you?”
Jeongin grunts, pushing Seungmin’s head as far as possible. “Bro, no. What the fuck.”
“Hmm, okay. If you say so,” Seungmin mutters, replaying your reaction on loop. You hadn’t reacted exactly how he was expecting. Perhaps he was hoping you'd lean into it, rather than scrambling off so clumsily. The abashness of the younger ticked him off in a way he couldn’t muster. He found it funny, yeah — but it also bothered him in a way he can't explain. It's faint though, a fleeting coil that could escape him too.
Could he call that the beginning of jealousy?
Tsk. What stupid thoughts, he barely knows you.
Not like it was a problem before, so why now?
—
You’ve decided not to go. To take a day off from seeing them, just one—to think about it and get your head straight, well conscious of how you’re overreacting it. One turned into two days, two turned into nearly a week of dragging this out. It’s mortifying, okay? You can’t control how you feel, nor how your cheeks warm up at the mere thought of what happened.
The memory boils on your skin, sizzling the bottom of your stomach, unwillingly growing needy at the flashing images. It brims tears to your eyes. Guilty of how wet it made you to get teased like this, shame prickling at your nerves. Maybe that’s why you left. Because if they tugged at your head a second longer, laughed in that manner while cornering you — you’d moan right there. Unfortunately, this is who you are.
They texted you a few times, asking if you were busy—which you gave the same response every time. A simple word, ‘yes.’
They stopped inquiring after a few days. This is stupid, you’re acting stupid. You aren’t this asinine normally. Their fault, really. Begging that they’d leave the rest of the project to you, never bother you again and let you complete it with a sign of their names at the end. As if they contributed. And yet.
“Hello? Are you yn?” someone asks, tapping your shoulder as you idly sit on a bench outside the main building. Doing absolutely nothing but staring at the water falling off the fontaine, nothing that you swore you were busy with at least. Your eyes meet hers, and she beams in reassurance.
“Not to bother you, but you’re asked at the gymnasium.”
“Huh?” you glance around, there’s no other you in the area. “Me?”
“Yes—aren’t you…?”
“I am,” you reply, lashes fluttering in confusion. “But why… isn’t a class active there?”
She fidgets with her thumbs, she’s clearly shy, or scared—probably a freshman. Whatever. Much resembling you, the part you try to hide despite the forming cracks. “Please go, please?”
This got to be a trick, a trap designed just for you. You find yourself following her despite the alarming red flags, how she started typing on her phone the moment you reached towards her doesn't escape you.
This feels wrong.
Swallowing dryly as you reach the front of the gymnasium, fingers hovering above the handle when it abruptly opens on the other side.
You’re pulled inside before you can grasp it. Arms finding themselves wrapped around you. Brusque and strong, slightly drenched from working out. “She’s here!”
Your pupils blow wide, instantly meeting the ones of the girl a few feet away. She gives you a pitiful glance and you shake your head. “What—”
There’s a hoard of guys that encircles you, grouping you in the middle of them. You're shaking, an insect size earthquake rambling throughout your body. Only you can feel it.
“Everybody, move.” A voice that you recognise cuts through, Seungmin.
You see him before he touches you, warm fingers envelopping the meat of your wrist, separating you from the crowd. “Calm down, the hell?”
“Don’t be harsh, Kim Seungmin,” one spills above the crowd’s volume. “You said she was here to photograph us.”
A confused noise leaves you, not quite a question but Seungmin catches it. “I said, she was here to spend the afternoon. And that she might, after class. Not during.”
Another one complains and Seungmin grunts in response, “Just go back to whatever you were doing, get lost. Hurry.”
“Was I aware of this–?” you ask as everyone disperses begrudgingly, him being the only person in your hearing zone. “I said that I was busy.”
Woah.
You’ve never heard this tone leave your throat before.
He sighs, brushing off the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His slick hair. Gaze subconsciously trailing down his body, to the curve of his shoulders, the damp of his shirt to—
You stop yourself.
Eyes snapping back at him despite your difficulty to hold eye contact. You shouldn't've, because the intensity of them nearly melts you on the spot. Suddenly conscious of his lingering touch on your wrist, which has softened the longer he’s holding you.
“Busy wandering the hallways for the entire week, seriously?”
You huff, mouth gaping to say something, then closing. Because you have been wandering off the entire day. But still. “Are you stalking me?”
Gosh, what the fuck are you saying. He’s visibly sharing mutual thoughts since his features contorts to one of skepticism. “Stalking you? Don’t be stupid, I asked someone from your major. You thought I wouldn’t after a week of you ignoring us?”
Still counts.
He blinks, briefly staring at the ceiling in contemplation as he registers his own words.
Insinuating that he went out of his way, to find someone related to you. “For the project,” he clarifies, clearing the light rasp in his voice. “I want to get it done already, there is only one commune gym class per week—and you just happen to get busy everyday. Especially today.”
“Not like I would’ve known it would be today,” you retort and he scoffs. Scoffs.
Painfully attractive. Your heart squeezes.
“Listen,” he urges. He’s been thinking about it, if his and Jeongin’s teasing had been as bad as you made it out to be. He really had been mulling it over these past few days. Much unlike the persona he tries to show. He thought you’d just forget about it, and eventually show up. But no. You went and got ‘busy’ for a whole fucking week. Clearly avoiding them.
His gaze locks on yours, and fuck—have you always been this cute?
The stern look enrobing your face tugs at unnecessary sudden thoughts he doesn't have control of.
Maybe not seeing you for a week was messing with his head more than he’d like to admit.
He sighs, again. Muttering something under his breath that you can't catch, but the pinch forming at his frown tells you the intention. Breathing in, as if he can't believe what he's about to say next.
“I apologize for what happened. If it made you uneasy—my bad, but you didn’t have to fucking ghost us over a whole week for it. You know?” his frustration bubbles in his throat, his fingers tightening on your wrist. Both of your eyes travel to where he hasn't let you go.
He releases you in a burn, as if it irritated him for holding you that long. “Whatever,” he mumbles, blinking away from your surprised face. “I don’t like wasting my time, and that’s what you’re doing right now.”
“Okay, fine.” you mirror his breath, pretending you weren't internally losing it. “Whatever.”
“What? That’s all?” he asks, subconsciously dropping his voice to yours.
“What else do you want me to say—”
“—That you’re sorry,” he interrupts, acting like the question was dumb in itself.
“But you already did that…” you reply, nail tweaking the fabric of your shirt. “Why would I be sorry?”
“For…” he starts, stopping midway, thinking over before he speaks any nonsense. “For—”
“Hyung!” someone shouts from afar, your heads snapping in the direction of the sound.
Jeongin’s jogs to your side of the gymnasium, finally stopping before you in huge pants. “What’re you doing— coach is asking where you are.” he lifts his hunched body, eyes meeting yours. “Oh, yn-ah. You’re also here? Thought you disappeared from campus.”
Eh?
“Didn’t Seungmin tel—” you try to say but his hand finds your lips before you do, muffling your incoming sentence.
Jeongin squints dubiously at the interaction, eyes meeting where Seungmin's hand tapes your mouth.
“Didn’t she tell you she’d come?” Seungmin blurts, completely twisting your words when he had lured you to come. So, he told everyone but Jeongin. Okay.
You had thought otherwise, especially after the huge stunt from earlier. It was hard to miss.
You sure hope that the light whimper that left you got muffled by his palm, eyes gaping at Jeongin before you for help. Only to get completely ignored as they converse in front of you, with his hand still on your mouth. Brushing your lips.
Yet, you hear them ignore you. You constat so. But there's a slight twitch in Jeongin's jaw you're not sure you caught. He says something about continuing class, stepping a foot closer to your bodies.
You tug at Seungmin's wrist, nails grazing his skin and he looks down. Gaze locking for the period of a breath as he releases you, however, it’s slow. His arm swipes across your jaw to your neck, subtly resting on your collarbone, a silent display.
“Switch places with me, keep her company for a while. I’ll be back.”
“Is that okay with you?”
Jeongin's talking to you.
You reply without realizing, lips parting in agreement. Then it registers when Seungmin’s body abandons yours, stealing away the warmth it basked you in as he returns to the field. Leaving you with the younger boy.
Wait what?
He doesn’t give you time to react either, fingers swiftly wrapping themselves around your hand. Not wrist, not arm — your hand. Somehow, that's the boldest thing they've done so far.
He leads you to a nearby bench. The casual skinship being shared with you throws you off guard, especially after hearing that Yang Jeongin wasn't a fan of it. Barely clasping the situation except for the heat that radiates from his hardened figure. Quickly replacing the lost temperature from Seungmin. He lays back, white shirt flexing on his biceps. “Noona,” he mutters, fluttering his lashes lazily. “Can I call you noona?”
Your palms sweat a river, rubbing them off the fabric of your pants as you take in his question, brows raising. “I don’t think we have a huge age gap, you don’t have to—”
“But,” he hums, smiling, showing the dent of his dimples, “I want to.”
“Ah,” you nod in the following silence, not quite grasping how to reply to that. “Sure then…”
A second passes, and he sighs. Rolling his head, glancing at him to notice the vein popping at his neck. The skin glistens under the light, involuntarily gulping. This feels wrong, so wrong to constantly gawk at them. You’re ashamed, but then he speaks. “Did he force you to come?”
He knows.
It’d be weirder if he didn’t. That’s his friend, you supposed. “I wouldn’t call it forcing,” you state, though you aren’t certain yourself.
He leans back on the bench with a hum, nodding. “Guessed so. He’s usually a good liar, wouldn’t say the same for earlier.”
You fall into silence, you wouldn't know what he's talking about. You're not used to these people… but then, a ghost of a touch lands on your jaw, guiding you to face him.
“Jeongin–”
“You let him touch you,” he stops you, his smile never leaves his face. His voice is reprimanding even with how light it sounds, you pick it that way. His fingers ghosts over the side of your face, tracing where Seungmin had clasped his hand above your cheek, slowly inching to your lips, “and he claims it’s for the project.” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lower lip and you pursue them in a thin line, frown deepening.
“Are you teasing me again…?”
“No,” he replies, firm. “Was just wondering,” he trails his gaze, hovering on your lips. “How soft they’d be.”
Your jaw hangs, and he thinks that’s his favourite expression on you. Undeniably scorching underneath his touch. There’s a twist in his stomach, something familiar to his body—and yet, a stranger to his brain. Feeling the intense need to pull you back from Seungmin’s sudden grip, to cut through the ropes he’s unconsciously tying you with.
Strange, he’s never had possessiveness issues with girls before. Perhaps he did, but it never happened concerning his friends. He could just be taking enjoyment in teasing you in search of the reactions you keep feeding his consciousness, you're a fun person to mess with. Though, it doesn't quite fit that strict standard.
For some reason, he can’t help the twinge of jealousy that threatens to emerge.
The tip of your fingers twitch, trembling on your laps, hovering slightly as you don't know what to do with them. “I— How soft—?” you repeat, coming off as a hitch. Sure that your brain stopped working a second ago, you shake your head, denying his theory. He stares at you as if he was observing every spasm of muscle, every smack of lips. Gaze following each direction your dilating pupils take, pulse beating in your eardrums in thuds.
“People are looking,” you try to reason, to provide a plausible reason for him to leave your bubble. Alas, he doesn’t seem to mind a bit.
“So?” he says in a hush, “Does it bother you…” it comes off as a whisper, dilated pupils dropping to his moving lips, “that I’m touching you right now, am I being weird?”
You gulp. He watches, eyes unleaving before he eventually pulls back, using the same hand to rake through his hair. Making an effort to give you space when you don't reply, blinking down at your laps instead. You touch your own lips, head hanging now to hide your flushed expression.
“Class will be over soon,” he mentions, staring ahead. “All those guys will be swooning around you, and you’ll photograph them,” he finds Seungmin in the crowd, blankly fixing him, “that’s why he brought you here, the excuse he gave.”
Why is he acting like this, what’s the point?
You’re indecisive whether you like it or not.
The pit in your stomach sure does despite your attempt to mask it, your thighs dig into the edge of the bench, uncomfortable out of nowhere. “It’s for the project, I suppose… collective idea.”
He takes a dim view at you, a crease forming above his nose. “Are you oblivious, or do you pretend to be?”
Your mouth parts, to retort with something but the sharp sound of a whistle pierces through, the noise echoing down the gymnasium’s walls. He stands up before you do, dusting the back of his pants when he notices the athletes scatter across the field. “Don’t be stupid, noona,” he warns, “a guy’s intention is not hard to tell.” For whatever reason, it feels like a warning, grabbing your hand with no attention being paid to your tiny noise of complaint. His fingers snake down your wrist, holding you above your pulse point. You’re agitated, heartbeat running a marathon. He likes it, you’re cute like this, all wide eyes gaping at him as he guides you towards him. “Tell me if they nag you too much, m’kay?”
—
“Three, two… one.”
Click.
The shutters come off with a ‘chik’, knuckles gripping the device as you wander off to the other side of the gymnasium. One more time.
They’re overworking you, having you run off every other second to catch different shots and angles of random sweaty, muscular, abnormally handsome dudes. The last part is just your opinion though.
Your feet ache, sore and burning in the tight confinement of your shoes, your soles numb by now. “One more!”
God, no. Jeongin’s empty promise lives in your mind. He had asked you to tell him if they were harassing you, but he took work harassment as unnecessary apparently. “That’s not what I meant,” is what he replied, urging you to get back to work as he went back to converse with his teammates. Seungmin wasn’t paying much consideration to you either, after making the trouble of manipulating you here using a freshman.
Curse Jeongin. Curse Seungmin. Curse everyone in this room, including yourself for always bringing your camera around. For that? Curse your major.
“I don’t— I don’t think I can any more,” you gasp in an exhausted pant, the whole area is huge — huge for your pitiful, unathletic body. “A break, please.” you beg. Seungmin has the audacity to act as if he was thinking about it, as if interrupting his conversation was a crime to begin with.
“Then go sit down?” he retorts, mildly irritated that you asked. You frown, because earlier you hoped to, but as soon as your ass made contact with the floor — they demanded you to get back up immediately.
You’ll never forget how rude jocks are.
Sprawled on a bench at the complete corner, you refused to give him a response. You totally would, you even imagined the whole scenario. Then it hits you that that stupid frathouse he’s part of will burn you alive if you’re bluntly rude to any of them, him specifically. His face is rude to look at. That’s a lie, you want to kiss him. Or worse.
“Noooo, yn.” you mutter in a wince, shaking your head in disapproval, “stop, bad bad thoughts…”
A shadow catches your eye of sight, towering your sitting figure.
“Oh, aren’t you–?”
Your head snaps up to the stranger standing before you, not-so a stranger as you take in who it is. He smiles, fingers tugging at the top zipper of his jacket, pulling it down in this heat. Sweat drizzles in beads on the skin of his neck, and you wonder if sweating has ever looked hotter on anyone else.
Stop.
Stay strong. No other frat dudes will ruin your semester, you’re already letting two boss you around. No more.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he exclaims, plopping down next to you horrifyingly comfortably. “It’s our second time meeting, no? You remember me?” he speaks, but your cheeks are too puffed with overly nervous air to be able. Chris, cocks his head to the side, following the direction of where you’re facing. “Not much of a talker, huh.”
“I know you,” you reply, bobbing your head up and down in a futile attempt at seeming stable. Everyone knows him. Holy shit, you’re actually alone with him right now — without Jeongin shielding you from any real interaction. Fuckass leader of their cult, and here you were worrying about Seungmin. That’s like fighting the final boss as a level two player in an ecchi game where he’s an ogre and you’re a maiden — except that he’s too beautiful to be an ogre.
“I know you too,” he grins, the dents on his cheek hollow and charming. He resembles Jeongin, in a way, perhaps because they are roommates — the mannerisms rub off. He hums, glancing to your fumbling hands when he notices the camera, “Ah, that’s why you’re here.”
“Are Seungmin and Jeongin keeping you busy, you must be tired.” he mentions and you instantly nod at the accusation towards them, turning into a head shake of denial when he starts chuckling, realising that you’re agreeing on shit regarding his fraternity.
“No, they aren’t—” you deny, pained through gritted teeth because the ache in your feet proves otherwise.
He stands up, and you think you’re done for, but then he walks up to you – crouching so that you can’t face the floor anymore but his striking features. Forcing you to look at him.
Are all guys around here this pushy—? Social space’s got to be a myth for them.
You must be an easy target, because his palm slides over yours, half-grabbing the camera with you. Soothing. Cradling your palm in his with soft hands.
“Take a picture of me,” he asks, already urging you to stand with him. You’re dizzy. A mantra of no looping in your head — hopelessly searching for Jeongin’s face amongst the crowd as Chris leads you to a painted wall with the school’s athlete theme logo plastered on it.
The people in your proximity fall into silence when you pass by them. Not because of you, but him. Chitter-chatter dies unless he looks back and waves, and they claim it’s not a cult. A group of cheerleaders eyes you down dirty, their poms dropping to their sides, stiff. You can’t even look back, your gaze might tell them you don’t want to be here. Either way, people will get mad at you in these types of situations.
Refuse, you’re ungrateful. Accept, you’re undeserving.
You’ve read enough forums to be aware of this. How does it feel to be popular? Now it feels the opposite. The same spotlight being put upon you against your consent.
“Here,” he instructs, stopping in his tracks. “I’ll go there, you decide where to stand.” he informs, stepping back. “You’re the professional here.”
“Okay,” you reply, throat tight. Putting some distance when you’re hit with a familiar surface, you don’t have to peek back to know who it is. You still look.
“Are you all right?” he asks, voice low only for you to hear.
“I think,” you breathe out, bringing your camera before you. Chris doesn’t say anything about Jeongin’s presence being glued to your back, but there’s something in his expression that you’re unable to decipher — unlike Jeongin, his hyung is transparent to him. “My hands are trembling,” you admit. It comes out before you can grasp it, perhaps because he had told you to tell him if something — someone is bothering you. Your mouth just accepted his comfort before your brain does.
He’s quiet for a second.
Then.
His arms embrace your sides. You fold your arms together in a surprised reflex from the hug. He’s not hugging you though it comes close. He holds the camera with you, steadying your clumsy hands with his bigger ones. His biceps grazes your skin through your clothes, breath fanning on your neck as he leans down to ear level. “Is that better?”
“No, worse.” you instantly stammer, chest heaving and falling rapidly.
“I can hear your pulse,” he informs you in a whisper. And he shouldn’t have, really, now it’s faster. “Relax, just take the picture. Get it done with yn.”
You inhale in, slowly exhaling out. Clicking the shutters on your most controlled breath, scared that you’ll lose it on the next one. You click a few with the help of Jeongin, eventually dropping your camera. “I’m done.”
Jeongin’s hold leaves you, but he stays by your side.
Chris approaches, “Can I see them?”
You blink, absently biting the inside of your cheeks. “There’s too many pictures in… I’ll have to transfer them to my laptop or else we will have to go through each one by one.”
“Ohh, I see.” he hums, thinking about it. “Then… send them to me after. I’ll give you my numb—”
“I’ll send them to you, hyung. Don’t worry about it,” Jeongin blurts out, subtly pushing you back onto him. Subtly, but it’s a full step back towards him. Till you’re clasped into each other. He’s smiling, however his tone carries an edge. A tinge of possessiveness.
Chris throws his hand up, shrugging his shoulders. “All right. I have no complaints, Ayen-ah.” he replies, stepping forward. “As long,” he trails, holding eye contact, “as I get those pictures, in the end. No complaints.”
Jeongin’s glare doesn’t leave Chris until he’s out of sight, getting busy with his coach somewhere far off. He sighs. Sighs. Gaze dropping to yours, pivoting you to face him.
He seems annoyed, irritated by Chris’ approach, you’re more relieved that the latter left. Subconsciously scooting towards Jeongin’s embrace. “What was that…” you ask, earning a click of tongue from him.
“Ignore him,” he replies, “can’t have anything anymore. Just gotta stick their asses in,” he’s muttering, barely audible.
“Huh, what? I can’t hear you.”
He pokes his tongue inside his mouth, forcing a bump on his cheek. “Forget it, are you done with the photos?”
You nod, pointing to your camera. “Yup, all in.”
“Okay, let’s go back then. Don’t feel like staying here any more.”
—
“The pictures are good,” Seungmin agrees, clicking on swipe. “But those losers are lame,” he adds, squinting at each individual he’s seeing on screen, “being this unphotogenic gotta be against the regulations, what the fuck.”
You’re sprawled across his bed, the three of you crashing his dorm for the past hour. You brought your laptop, showing the safe part of it only. “I don’t think it's that bad,” you reply, pointing to the mouse so that he’d give it to you.
Jeongin has been quiet for a while — lost in thoughts, letting you and Seungmin do most of the talking. Snapping awake when Seungmin kicks his knee. “Wake up, dude.”
“Eh?”
Seungmin scoffs, “The pictures, what do you think?”
Jeongin gazes at the screen, watching you roll past a few images. They’re ugly, he means to say. Not because you took them though, that’d be a lie. The problems are the recipients. “They’re…” he slurs, a bit tired when he looks at you; you have such a hopeful daze in your eyes, waiting for some validation. He groans, rubbing his forehead. “They’re great. Such… symmetry.”
Both you and Seungmin share a glance, skepticism etching your features.
“Just go back to sleep,” Seungmin tuts, facing forward when he notices a certain picture. “Wait, hol’ on.” he stops you, indicating where to click. You do, and he zooms in. “This. I didn’t know you took Chan’s photo?”
You awkwardly peek sideways, shrugging. “He asked me to,” expecting some sort of reaction from him, but he dwells on it; humming.
“I got an idea, come here.” he requests, slapping Jeongin’s arm to get him to follow as you form a circle on his mattress. “Nobody cares about those guys, right?”
Jeongin nods. You don’t know what answer to give this statement.
“We could make the magazine about us?” he suggests.
“About Stray Kids?”
“Yeah.”
“No,” your and Jeongin’s ‘no’ comes off simultaneously, quickly disapproving.
Seungmin perks a brow, resting his arms on his crossed legs. “Why? It’s a good idea.”
You stay silent, well aware that this won’t be good for your heart. Nor your body, nor your mind. You in general. However, you have no idea why Jeongin refused, stealing a glance at him to wait for his reasoning.
“I don’t want to, do I need a reason?” he retorts, keeping his tone normal the best he can.
“Yeah, you do. My grades matter on this, your grades will count because of this. yn?” he addresses you, shifting his focus to you and you wince internally.
It is an amazing idea, probably the best one so far… but… what do you even say here?!
No, I can’t because you guys get me all hot and bothered, and I might just bust if you keep getting into my space like that.
Okay. Nopes.
You throw your head forward onto your palms, your whole body sighing deeply in defeat. You hadn’t had much choice since this whole thing began, to be honest. What will it change?
“Fine…” you mumble, “I’m for Seungmin’s idea.”
They both stare at you momentarily, gaze heavy despite your lowered head. The way in which Seungmin’s lips curl into a smirk escapes you, and so does Jeongin’s growing frown.
“Two against one, guess we’re following my suggestion by fair voting. Hm?” Seungmin states, not quite a question, a spark of victory engraving his voice when Jeongin huffs, tsking. Tapping his knee in quiet frustration before reluctantly nodding, mumbling out a quiet ‘okay.’
You start to map out the magazine, planning each page and dividing the sections. Notes, members, club activities. They explain how their classes and clubs work, and you note it down. When it's your turn explaining, they’re the ones to listen. They’re attentive, you give them that. Perhaps because they are subtly admiring your focused expression, the knit of your brows, the tiny sniffs you take when they stare too hard — the pout that forms at your lips. Addicting.
Do you realize how cute you are? They wonder.
The clock ticks, time flying by and you’re soon yawning out. Lazily blinking as you type your last sentence so far. “I think… we are done for today, what else is there?” you ask, peering at them. They seem as tired, half-way lying dead on the mattress.
“We can continue later, I think it’s past midnight.” Jeongin mumbles, glancing at his phone screen.
Your own eyes land on the clock on your laptop, mouth gaping. “Oh shit, it is. I’ll get going then—” you heave up, but they hold onto you, throwing you back with a thud.
“It’s late, stay.” Seungmin asks — demands.
“I couldn’t possibly—” you try to oppose, but Jeongin is already packing your stuff, setting them on the nearby desk before returning to his initial seat. Next to you. Not for a project. “I have to go home…” you hope to object, but they tug you closer and your voice dies in a slur. “My roommate…”
“–is grown, she’ll manage without you tonight.” Seungmin declares, because he might not if you decide to leave again after such difficulty to get you here.
“Oh,” you hitch, shifting your head sideways to be met with Jeongin. You really can’t escape, huh. “Can I sleep on the couch?”
“No,” Jeongin replies, his forehead resting on your shoulder. “Felix is downstairs, stay here. Be good,” the last part comes off as a whisper. You nearly choke.
“I, uhm. Ok.”
They could laugh at your malfunction, but the last time they did you fled away for a solid week. For some reason, they don’t feel like teasing either.
Probably a dumb reason.
Seungmin switches off the lights, darkness filling your vision, as if that made it any better. Their proximity is louder than anything, how are you supposed to sleep in such a deafening atmosphere? Suddenly hyperaware of the fleeting touches and caresses that land on your body.
There's nothing at first, just the sound of your heavy breathing — cursing at yourself for it, but then, it's like they keep inching towards you. Closing any chance of distance till you're made of one piece. You're sure that you're dreaming it, that you fell asleep and this is all an illusion of your deepest fantasies of this exact situation. Clinging onto the logic till an arm wraps around your waist, having forgotten who is on which side on the spot. You gasp, not even an audible sound when you're rolled onto your side. The same arm snaking where your shirt hikes upwards. “Fuck, you're soft.”
Jeongin.
Mistake thinking it's only him when they're busy playing team tagging. The one behind you, Seungmin, pulls himself to your back. Spooning you like a pillow, their personal pillow. He hums, satisfied with the scent of your shampoo invading his nostrils.
Your thighs squeeze. Lord, not now. But when else?
“Guys…”
“Sleep,” Jeongin sighs, nose nuzzling your neck, bangs tickling your skin.
You can't. You hear crickets despite the lack of a nearby forest. It keeps you awake.
You'd be crazy to think that they're almost grinding on you, or you're the one doing it. You can't tell either. Your brain is working overtime, core throbbing painfully at the ideas that washes your mind. Jeongin's lips land flimsy above the collar of your shirt, you shiver in dull desire, hips involuntarily rolling back when you hear a light grunt from beside your ear. “I'm sorry—” you quickly apologize when Seungmin's palms lay flat on your hips, stilling your squirming self.
“Are you trying to make me pop a boner?” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep and something darker.
You apologize again; soft, guilty mumbles leaving your lips. Jeongin fights the urge to shut you up with a kiss. To seal those inviting lips of your. To be the first one of them to do it.
To claim you first before any of his hyungs get the chance to snatch you from him.
They’re sleepy, and you keep on rambling. Rambling off about how you could sleep on the floor, that it'd be better for everyone when they nicely decided to tuck you in with them. How cruel of you, really. It happens to be Seungmin's last straw.
“Ayen,” he begs in a groggy grunt, swiftly taking hold of the back of your head. “Keep her quiet.”
Jeongin doesn't hesitate.
His lips meet yours in a sweet haste, not registering any of it actually happening until his lips part, swallowing the huff you let out. He gives you a slow caress, a merciful chance to adjust. Your eyes squeeze shut, not having kissed anyone in years, you fight to keep up. He doesn't care, taking pleasure in the ineptitude in which you try to kiss back. Your lack of experience is endearing when his fingers find your jaw, gaping at your mouth to lick the drool that threatens to spill. Soft, pathetic, high pitched whimpers leave you mid kiss, begging for some oxygen when he steals yours away. Pulling back at last, his breath ghosts on your nose. Though, you get no time to recover when your face is hunched to the side, another pair of lips making contact with your parted ones.
Seungmin might just deem you as a drug. He's rougher than Jeongin, though his lips are delicate. The shakiness in which you allow him to do whatever with your mouth pleases him, the naivety in which you aim to breathe through your nose because they aren't giving you any opportunity for air to fill your lungs. Shit — should've kissed you sooner. Should've kissed you the first time you zoned out with that dumb expression of yours. He's been wondering why you kept doing that ever since, he might get an idea after this. He tilts his face, propping himself on his elbow to gain better access, shoving his tongue deep inside your mouth.
You moan, delirious when Jeongin's lips drop to your collarbone, sucking a slow, harsh mark there, that you have to tug at his hair — or Seungmin's. It's difficult to differentiate in this state.
He pulls back when you whine, heated eyes staring at you through pitch black darkness, breathing a ton. “Shit,” he curses, there's a throb in his pants, and with the shuffling from Jeongin's side, he's sure the sensation is mutual amongst them. Still, you're shuddering wildly, uncertain of how much you can handle — for now. “Let's just–” he pants, catching his stolen voice, “let's just go to sleep.”
—
The first thing you did when the sun rose was leave.
You left. Tearing yourself from tangled limbs, swiftly grabbing your belongings as you left without informing anyone. You can’t — you can’t handle that.
You hadn’t expected this to happen. Well maybe a minuscule logical part of you did — noticing the obvious signs early on, only to mark it with a ‘delusion’ arrow. You nearly bumped into a sleepy Felix on your escapee, just to ignore his confused grunt and make it out of the door.
You’re done for. Doomed. Rejected. Will regret this.
Living in fear for the rest of the day, an intense sense of familiar paranoia tugging at your heart. You can’t — that’s what you keep reminding yourself of. Except that they’re the ones doing it, and you’re silently letting them in.
“What the hell, yn.” you mutter, hands messing with your hair in disbelief.
—
“Do I stink?” Jeongin asks, sniffing the sleeve of his shirt.
“No shit,” Seungmin replies, the sarcasm in his response is loud. He doesn’t think he’s that behind. They hardly made it out of their individual practice tonight, deciding to meet up afterwards. The commune showers are crowded. Their clothes stick to their bodies, hair damp from washing it under the cold, tap water.
“I can’t believe she left without a word,” Jeongin blurts out and Seungmin hums in feign confusion. “This morning?”
He shrugs, eyes landing on the nearby opened store. “I can believe it, fits her character.” he says, though, he’s distracted by the pink hue of the store, ‘Welcome’ plastered on top. “Jeongin.”
“Hm?”
“I’m craving popsicles.”
—
Knock knock.
Jeongin’s knuckles hammers against your dorm’s door, the two of them standing by. They wait. It’s the third knock, and they’re getting impatient. “You think she’s home or nah?”
“Dunno, knock one more time.” Seungmin encourages, watching the younger man make a last attempt when the door creaks open. They anticipated to be met with your head peeking out curiously, unfortunately, the person behind the door isn’t you.
“Uhm, hello?” the girl speaks, taking a proper look as her eyes widen when she realizes who is standing before her. Panicked confusion seers through for a second, but then the memory of you mumbling about your project hits her. “Are you here for my roommate…?”
They nod and she opens the door wider, hesitant. “She’s not home right now, I think she went to the library.”
“We can wait here, no? Is she going to take long,” Jeongin asks, and she seems genuinely perplexed by it. Reluctant to let them inside.
Her tongue swipes across her lips, nodding. “Totally, I was about to leave either way. You can watch over meanwhile, I guess.”
Seungmin isn’t too fan of her telling them to watch over but Jeongin intercepts it before he does, grabbing his arm to pull them both inside. “Thanks.”
“No worries,” she assures, awkwardly clasping her shoes on. “You can stay here, sit on the couch. I don’t know, make yourself at home.” she says, about to head out as she suddenly stops. For the first time, feeling a bit considerate regarding you. Taking a deep inhale to gather the courage to face them, “Don’t enter her room, at all costs. That’s all, bye.”
At least she tried to warn them. She doesn’t know exactly why you prohibit people from entering your room since you usually keep to yourself. But you had expressed this rule several times, she felt the need to mention it before heading out.
Jeongin sprawls on the couch, throwing his head back, observing Seungmin walk towards the freezer, resting the popsicles deep inside cold refuge. “Hey,” he voices when Jeongin takes out his phone, earning a curious ‘hm’ from the other. “Why do you think she warned us?”
“Girls stuff, maybe. How would I know?” he replies, not quite dwelling on it like Seungmin. “Why do you ask?”
“Curious, that’s all.” he plops down next to Jeongin, propping his elbows on his thighs. “It’s weird, honestly.”
“You mean… you want to take a look?”
“Don’t you?”
Jeongin swallows, glancing at the shut door. “And… if she comes back?”
“We’ll act innocent, we know nothing.”
“Yeah, okay. We aren’t snooping around,” he reassures and Seungmin nods.
“We’re just loitering, crashing, nothing wrong with that.”
They hesitate — pretend to in order to please their conscience — yet, they thread through either way.
—
Your room is nothing unusual, nothing worth a warning for if they had to be real.
The walls are clean, you’re well hygienic, and there are barely any interesting posters up. Tidy, neat, casual.
“It’s like I’m stepping into an epitome of boredom, holy. Has she never heard of decorations?” Seungmin groans, pulling your desk chair to take a seat, rolling the wheels lazily.
Jeongin hums, sitting on your bed. The mattress is softer than his, taking delight by bouncing on it.
“You look stupid, quit doing that.” Seungmin snarks, raising his leg to kick Jeongin’s leg.
“Honestly, nothing here gives off her vibes. Or is it my opinion?”
Seungmin shakes his head, pupils darting around. “Nah, you’re right. I expected something a bit more…”
“Loseristic?”
“You're making up words now?” Seungmin asks, huffing a laugh. “Rude, I’ll tell her you called her a loser.”
“Says the rude one, bet she likes me better.” Jeongin states, pretending not to notice the twitch in Seungmin’s brow.
“I don't need to be desperate to get a girl,” Seungmin retorts, a mean blade to his tone. Jeongin's used to it.
“If you say so,” Jeongin mumbles, hiding the growing rigidity in his body with a cheeky grin. Throwing his body backwards onto the mattress when he hears a weird sound. He does it again despite Seungmin's skeptical stare. “Yo, hyung.” he calls, laying his palm flat on the surface, applying pressure. “I think there's something under the bed.”
“Huh, like what?” Seungmin asks, cocking his head in confusion. He stands up as Jeongin does, helping him lift the mattress.
Their eyes widen. Freezing on the spot to the stash of material before them.
Ten… “Tentacle?”
Jeongin picks up something, reading the cover. “Alien, monster. Eh, orgy?”
They skim through, attention being driven towards the crude displays in front of them. Girls getting gangbanged, manhandled, used. Boys not far off, you do have a type — they've come to know that.
The deafening agreement that courses through is wordless, they leave the mattress, bodies working around to find other leaks. Evidence that they aren't insane for this.
“I found porno games–” Jeongin begins, moving the front row of your books to the side to reveal DVDs, CDs, audiobooks, games — mangas, magazines. Your magazines — he opens them, swiping through the pages of naked men, handsome naked men — so that's where you got the idea from.
“I found something crazier,” Seungmin mumbles, his surprised amusement itching his throat. “Come see.”
He does, and that's probably the last thing he was anticipating to see in your room. There's toys, he can't blame you for that. But it's the specification of them.
Seungmin picks a dildo up, the shape weird in his palm. “You think that went inside?”
It's long. Sharp at the tip, purple with suctions on the edges. The picture of you using it to get off plagues his mind, and he's not scared to admit that it turns him on.
Jeongin blinks, his face running hot at the thought. He had thought you’d be naive, hence why you kept reacting with such innocence and timidity. Perhaps not, perhaps it was the complete opposite.
“Who would picture her for a pervert,” he doubts his own words, the heavy gulp from Jeongin echoes in their pulsating eardrums. “Are you weirded out?”
“Kinda,” Jeongin admits, his nails finding the curve of his nape, the skin heats under his fingertips. “Would it be wrong to be into it?”
Seungmin stares at him, the answer to that clear in both of their minds. He's about to reply when they hears the front door click.
“Fuck–”
They panic, cursing under their breath as they rush to put everything back neatly. In place exactly how they found it. There's a dog barking in the distance, and a muffled hint of your voice peering through.
Your steps get closer, the wooden floor creaking when you reach your bedroom door. The doorknob twists, the movement almost in slow motion until the surface bursts open the second you hear something — some things you shouldn't be hearing inside your bedroom.
“What the–!” you shout, vision instantly crashing on the two of them. They're sitting idly, Jeongin on your chair and Seungmin on the bed. On their phone. “What are you doing here?” the urgency in your voice cracking it open.
“We were…” Seungmin eyes Jeongin briefly, who is as clueless as him, “waiting for you.”
“In my room–?”
The dog barks again.
“I mean, where else?”
You whine, the worry on your face is pitiful. Brows knitted, mouth into a thin–pouty line. Your lashes keep fluttering close, not grasping the situation quite well. “Did you… find anything?” you ask and they shake their heads.
You want to believe them, you wish to. But they are breathing a millisecond quicker, chests heaving uncharacteristically. The tip of their ears are red, and you're not confident on what brought this reaction to them. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, what do you want us to find?” Seungmin questions and you grumble, knees bobbing in anxiety.
“Nothing,” it's small, dropping the book you've borrowed from the library on the desk, and their eyes suspiciously follow the object; trying to decipher what's written on it as if it was the holy grail. “We can move to the common room–”
“Actually,” Jeongin interrupts. “Can we use your shower real quick? We haven't since practice ended.”
You blink, glancing around briefly before nodding hesitantly. “Go ahead…” you point to the bathroom and they lift up. Seungmin pauses midway, turning to you.
“By the way, we bought you popsicles. It's in the freezer, wasn't sure which flavour you’d prefer,” he says, lips quirking upwards, “so we brought both.”
—
The shower runs as a waterfall in your head, fixed in the middle of your bed for the past ten minutes. You checked your things once. Barely. You gave it a sliver of a glance, too embarrassed to properly check. Having no courage to stand up and try again.
So, you overthink it.
Clicking the tip of your nails between your teeth, leg shaking stressfully. You don’t feel so well, “What if they found out…” you whisper under a breath, the popsicle cools down your wrist, the melting liquid drooling on your skin. You don’t notice with several scenarios busying your attention. You’d prefer if they snapped at you, called you a weirdo and forced you to switch schools rather than feigning innocence. Because it sure felt like they were. Then you’d be clear of doubts that they’re aware of what’s hidden here, instead of living in crippling anxiety.
You’re on the verge of breaking down when the shower stops, snapping you out of your never-ending thoughts as the doorknob tilts open. It stops briefly, you can hear their conversation faintly, not clear enough to make out what they’re saying until the door eventually opens.
The sight has your heartbeat erratic, lungs squeezing for a sudden breather as they come out of your bathroom shirtless.
Jeongin’s pants hang low, low enough to show the trace of his V line and the waistband of his boxers. He dries the edge of his hair with the towel hanging around his neck. Seungmin’s behind him, the droplets from his damp strands rolling down his shoulders, to his chest. The view of his abs casually flexing with his steps has you faltering.
“Where— where are your clothes…!?” you squeal, palms covering your eyes like a sneaky child. It’d be endearing if they didn’t know what type of person you truly are. Still, they step forward.
“Clothes? We’re wearing–” Jeongin replies and you shake your head, face flushed.
“No, your shirts—”
“Oh, you mean that.” Seungmin hums, knee digging into the mattress and you might just die. “Sorry, it’s in the washer,” he mentions, somehow never showing any remorse in his apologies. “Does it bother you that we’re here like this?”
“I’m not sure–” you mean to say yes, but Jeongin finds comfort on your left. Casually laying onto your pillow, the same one you… oh.
“The water pressure here is low-key more decent than ours. Isn’t it, hyung?”
Seungmin steals the towel from Jeongin, fading the flush that crept on his face from the shower, “Yeah, makes you wanna stay in here longer. We should come here more often. You wouldn’t mind right?”
The glimpse you take at his dripping chest is well noticed by him, faintly smirking when you take in a quiet gulp, lashes battling in malfunction. “Uhm, I have to ask… my roommate.”
“I’m sure she’ll have zero problem with it, noona. I’m confident nobody on campus can refuse us,” Jeongin reassures, glancing at the dribbling popsicle in your grip, fingers tight on the wooden stick. He sighs, digits digging into your wrist, stabilising your trembling hold. “Noona, look at the mess you’re causing,” he mutters, voice close to your ears. “It’s dripping everywhere, do you like it that way?”
Seungmin pats your head, because you seem on the verge of tears — eyes glossy, blinking to prevent anything from overflowing. It’s pathetic, he thinks he’s infatuated. “She must, Ayen, her hand is all sticky. Such a wet mess, it’s drooling onto your sheets.” he insinuates, forcing you to notice the blueish drops that stains your bed.
Your brain stops working altogether, voice staggering in an apology as you try to stand but they prevent you from doing so.
“Relax, we’ll clean it up for you.” Seungmin says, and Jeongin moves on the spot.
Plump lips meeting the veins on your wrist, a stark reminder of yesterday that you hardly forgot, and now they’re adding new material to your poor mind.
“No, no,” you beg in a whimper, embarrassed with the moan that leaves you when his tongue darts at the liquid, licking a long stripe from the bottom of your wrist to your palm. He holds eye contact, Seungmin shutting off any attempt of you averting your gaze. “I’m sorry–”
Seungmin tilts his head, lifting your chin to gaze at where he’s standing above your lying figure, “Don’t be.” he smiles, “this is out of free will.”
He lays back when Jeongin’s done with the cleanup. The younger holds the popsicle before you, they can practically feel your heat from here. Fuck, you must be soaking from this alone. It takes a lot not to pounce on you already, but they’ll wait. Feed you whatever you desire, mess with your pretty little head till you’re left a pleading mess.
That’s the plan.
“Say aah,” Jeongin guides, tutting when you shake your head.
“Demonstrate,” Seungmin suggests, tone smug. “It’s probably her first time.”
You whine, the world tight and dizzy. Your head pivots, the situation too overwhelming for you to react. Their words are dirty, it feels double meaning, but Jeongin’s mouth parting around the popsicle in your hand has you buffering. Thighs pressing uncomfortable, certain that the pool of desire in your stomach is visible in your body language.
“Pay attention,” he reminds you, like he was instructing a class. His tongue peeks out, catching the drop that was threatening to spill as he runs his mouth all the way up to the top. He lays his tongue flat on the underside, hypnotizing when he sucks on it with a hard pop that nearly breaks the desert. You picture that was your clit instead, the same plump lips wrapping around your lips and… No. This is wrong, but it feels so right.
“It’s sweet, you should try it.” Jeongin smirks, his dimples popping as he brings the spit covered desert to your lips. “Please?” his cock jumps when you part your lips tentatively, a small — gaping hole for him to push the popsicle in. It leaks at the corners of your mouth, gasping when he shoves it deeper.
Seungmin grunts, a pang of nasty jealousy ringing through at the sight of Jeongin using you like this. He heaves up, tugging closer to your body — arm snugging your waist to get you to fit into his body. It’s haste, sudden enough for Jeongin not to get the chance for a response. “Let me have a taste.”
You’re about to hand him the popsicle, but he gets rid of it before you. Confused when his lips suddenly collide with yours with a, “hmph—!”
He kisses you like he missed the sensation of you in his mouth. The threads of patience left in him finally snapping. His lips are as you remember them, delicate but harsh. The taste of blueberry on your lips has his moaning in your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue, licking at the inside of your warmth — careful not to miss any drop of sugar.
Jeongin’s grip on your thighs tightens, blunt nails digging onto the fabric and you wince in pained pleasure, escaping from Seungmin’s ministration for a fraction of second. Long enough for Jeongin to react, he doesn’t wait politely in order to push your head towards him. Lips molding into place — harder than Seungmin — more teeth and possession enrobing the kiss, drawing a high pitched sound from him when your fingers instinctively lace through his silky locks; brushing his scalp in your search for support. To tug at something and cling to it.
He invades your senses, body mushed to yours, sandwiching you between the two of them as his hands trail past your thighs to the button of your pants. He stops on the seam, thumb absently tracing in the ridge of the circle. Seungmin's breath is on your neck, brushing off the strands of hair to pamper the skin with reminders of him.
Jeongin pulls your wrist towards him, kissing your palm before moving to yank off your cardigan. Seungmin takes the hint, deft fingers hurrying to undo the buttons attaching the wool altogether, groping your tits in the process. A sense of urgency hits you as they begin undressing you, throbbing under their hungry demeanor.
“Wait– Wait!” you choke out, hands flailing forward. They pause, wearing an expression that screams nobody has ever told them to wait before. Confused, though they're considerate enough to give you an inch of distance to gather your thoughts. “I've never…” you admit, abashed. “I’ve never done any of this…”
A second passes, and you cuss yourself for it. Shouldn't you have said that? — did you ruin the mood?
However, Jeongin spreads your legs wider, his grip softens small enough to go unnoticed. “Is that an issue?” he asks, “Do you want us to stop?”
He's asking you if it's an issue. You're thrown aback, lips swollen and jaw slack. You had thought they'd take you for an inexperienced loser — to make fun of you, and it to be their worry. Not yours.
Stop?
“No,” you reply, almost scared that they'll pull away. “Don't stop, please.”
Seungmin inhales against your nape, teeth nibbling down. Teasing. “You know, yn,” he begins, palms trailing across your body slower than earlier, this time savouring the shape of you in his grip. “I've been wanting to fuck you for a while, just couldn't tell why.” you shiver, and he smiles. “Weird, because I can always tell why I want someone. Maybe, I know why now.”
Your mouth dries, or salivates?
Mind too clouded with a simple question to care, “Why…?”
He laughs, quiet, scarcely a blow of air. “That's a secret between me and Jeongin.”
Your buttons come off. Revealing your bare shoulders when the cardigan gets thrown loose somewhere on the floor along with the forgotten popsicle, all that's left is a soaking mess of it. A mirror of you if they choose to dive their hands a bit further. But they can already tell. They know.
Jeongin's knee nestles between your parted thighs, and you close them on him by reflex. He groans as the meat rubs on his aching cock with the help of Seungmin's grip grinding you on his friend's leg. “Say,” Jeongin rasps by your lips, drawing the sweetest breathless noises out of you from the motion on your clothed clit. “Do you want me or him?”
You wonder if your hearing is playing on you, eyes hovering to Seungmin's briefly because you're not positive of what Jeongin could mean by that. If that's a proper question to answer, or a trap–
“Go ahead,” Seungmin assures, “answer his question.”
No matter how much you dwell on it, the beats that pass. You've got only one answer on the tip of your tongue, “Both– I can't choose… please,” you're putty in their hands, eyes closing in a plea, “don't make me choose...”
“Such a greedy girl,” Seungmin whispers, tracing the edge of your shirt. “You heard her, Ayen-ah. Stop being a possessive asshole.”
Jeongin's smile falters, painfully aware of the playground Seungmin is setting. He'll say that, then do the exact same thing he's reprimanding Jeongin from doing.
Like the dirty lying cheater he is, it's just a game of belonging to him. No — to them. He's not so innocent either, it's not the first time this is happening. For whatever reason, he's not too fond of sharing this once. You're such a fascinating little thing, he wants to keep you to himself.
Not long before the rest starts meddling, then it'll be a game of chess. The thought alone has his skin prickly, but for now, maybe he'll give you what you want.
If you want Seungmin too — then so be it. Playing dirty is not unfamiliar in the house; to hand you each of your fantasies one by one, till you're unable to digest anything else but him.
“Take her clothes off, take it–” Jeongin snarls. Maybe he's a little angry, it diffuses on the way he reaches for the zipper of your pants, flying it open and a pop of buttons. Seungmin complies, much needing to see more of you as he lifts your arms. Ripping the shirt off your head with impatience, leaving your chest bare except for the lace of your bra. Seungmin shudders at the sight of your cleavage above your shoulder, salivating when you hurry to cover yourself so timidly as if there aren't several deranged materials hidden in every corner of this bedroom.
You're an iceberg he's willing to dive under the sea to discover, to get you to spill all your dirty secrets by the time he's done with you. To coax it out, along with the whimpers you let out when he removes your arms from your chest. “Don't hide, show me.”
“You're pretty like this. Pretty face,” his hand trails to your back, unclasping your bra with a click. “Pretty tits, I bet you've got a pretty cunt too.”
Your face heats impossibly, as if you weren't already scorching before. Just then, Jeongin's thumbs lock on the waistline of your pants, rolling them off by jerking your hips forward. Panties are the sole thing left on you, and you could die from humiliation. Your skin flushes with heat, burning.
Seungmin lays back, pulling you with him till you're up against his bare chest. Naked flesh-on-flesh. He could lick at your goosebumps.
Jeongin crawls in front of your curved knees, palms clasping on your knees, easily using his strength to open your thighs. “You're dripping,” he points out upon seeing the damp spot on the gusset of the thin cloth, hardly providing ample coverage to your aching cunt.
“Don't say that–” you whine, lips pressing when he runs a thumb on your covered slick, the cotton clings to your labia. “Oh…” the sensation's already different from what you're used to from a swipe alone, the pleasure incomparable to what you've felt before.
“So responsive, we've barely touched you,” he praises, nuzzling the side of your face. His behavior could be mistaken for affection if you didn't know better.
This got to be a figment of your imagination. A made up situation in your brain, but their touches are hard enough to seem real. Subconsciously answering your question when Seungmin pinches your thigh, earning an involuntary grind from you that has him gasping for more. Needy since the last time you left them blue-balled at seven in the morning.
“More,” you plead and they scoff. Mirroring each other's actions.
“Already? Thought it'd take more to make you beg,” Seungmin amuses, finger curling on the edge of your panties when he abruptly pulls onto the elastic before snapping it back to your skin. It stings, and he's having fun doing it again. He's mean, catching you off guard when the next tug tears the fabric — ignoring the hitch in your voice. “See how easy that was?” he taunts, eyes landing onto Jeongin's who's bluntly ignoring him; busy tearing the broken fabric from you completely. Bare pussy catching the cold air from the crack of your ajar window.
Rough thumb makes contact with your clit, hips jolting in his direction with an, “Ah–!”
Jeongin drinks in your reaction, lowering his head till he's met with your leaking cunt. He breathes in, taking in your scent, letting himself get familiar with it. Digits run across your slit, coating them with your fluids, teasing the entrance. He lifts his vision — challenging Seungmin's. “Hyung,” his tone is sharp around the edges, cutting through with irritation, “you're fucking annoying me.”
“Am I?” Seungmin coos, mocking the one between your legs as he helps him spread them wider, holding you nice and open for Jeongin. “You should be more grateful, you know? I'm letting you have this. Let you kiss her first, let you tag along. Brought you here with me,” he replies, fist snaking to your bare pussy, fingers forcing a V to spread your lips apart for Jeongin. “I'm giving you another opportunity, and you're complaining?”
“Funny,” Jeongin chuckles, spitting onto your gaping hole. “You think I'm doing this because you're giving it to me,” a thick finger breaches you — sharp contrast to your own. “Her? You're giving her to me, hilarious.”
They're talking about you as if you aren't physically present, you might be, but your mind is elsewhere. Guilty of how much desire this twists in your stomach, heels digging into the mattress in forbidden pleasure when he adds a second one. Fingers that have been plaguing your mind since the first time you sat across the same table, so deep inside that he's hitting that tender spot without trouble.
“Jeongin–” you cry out, and he smirks in temporary triumph, pussy gushing against his fingers. He curves them, watching how your head throws back onto Seungmin's shoulder, thighs quivering shut if it wasn't from the shared grips holding you in place.
“That's it, cry out my name,” he encourages, sweetly planting a kiss to your clit. Drawing a high pitched squeal out of you, parting his fingers — forcing you to take the stretch. “You gon cum from that? From me scissoring you wide?” he asks and you nod feverishly, tilting to the edge shamefully fast.
But you don't think you've got any dignity left in you when you allow them to talk to you — about you like this.
He licks a stripe down, warm tongue something you've never experienced in your life. The sound is obscene, lapping at your overflowing juices in wild excitement to get you to your peak.
He neglects your clit at first, focusing on gathering the spilling drops with his wet muscle, darting on your lips in sloppy open-mouthed kisses. Enveloping his mouth above your spasming hole, the tip of his tongue inches inside. Seungmin's thumb suddenly makes contact with your throbbing nub, applying just enough pressure in tight circles to bring you to the edge.
“Fuck– ahh!” you moan out, loud — confident that the neighboring students can hear you across the dorms’ thin walls. “Stop–! Can't—” you squeak when neither of them halts, continuing their abuse on your sensitive pussy, snapping shut around Jeongin's head as he slurps your release, notorious sounds escaping his mouth. Moaning at your taste.
“Just like that, you sound so adorable.” Seungmin praises, sitting you upright with him. His hands find your hips, guiding you to lean forward on your knees. Jeongin maneuvers you from the front, lowering you so that you're at level with his prominent bulge. He's straining his pants, the fabric tight.
You aren't distracted for long with Seungmin's grind on your rear. Palms flat on your bare ass, kneading the flesh adoringly. “Shit,” you both curse when his erection makes contact with your slippery cunt, dirtying the fabric of his pants. “Looks like I'd fit right in,” he mutters under his breath, spreading your cheeks wide to hump your ass in dirty, languid strokes. “Don't you think so too?”
He's talking to either of you, his tone ever condescending.
The tension of their passive argument lingers when Jeongin takes hold of your hair, grip digging in your scalp. Holding you down to the roots, hunching you to the bulge stretching his pants. “Blow me,” he commands. Bold. “Moan against my dick, that's where I wanna hear you.”
You fumble with the zipper. You're shaking too much but it seems like you're the only person here who’s getting bothered by it. This is a sick fantasy. This is…
However.
He rolls his pants down, boxers quickly following suit. He's aching, torturously hard and sore. He needs you now, and the sight of him being freed is enough to shut your mind. You stare at him, big wide eyes wondering what to do next. Even though you know, you’re scared of doing it wrong. He sighs shakily. You’re going to kill him, he might cum from you staring alone. “Noona,” the nickname has your insides knotting this time, pussy begging to be filled just as your mouth. “Come on, open up for me.”
He taps the tip against your lower lip, smudging the precum beautifully on the soft tissue. You open, welcoming him in with a testing lick. Moaning at the salty taste of him on your tongue. He’s addictive, licking off the beads that threaten to spill from his tip earnestly. “Yeaahhh, like that. Use your lips.” he groans, a trail of sweat inching down his neck when you wrap your pretty lips around the crown. Clumsily circling the shape with your tongue. “Oh, oh.” your moves are amateur, but the eagerness in which you’re trying makes his balls tighten. Perhaps you’re still timid. It’s fine, he’ll help you learn.
Using the roots of your head, he pushes you forward slowly, taking his time to feed you inch by inch. Stopping when a wet gag keens from your throat, drool pooling at the seam of your mouth, dribbling past your chin. “Slower, yeah?” He stills when you nod, doing your best to breathe through your nose like you’ve seen on online forums. It’s more difficult than you thought, somehow, you can smell the taste of him up your nostrils.
You’re persisting to accommodate when a sudden intrusion jolts your lashes open. A muffled mewl echoing past his cock at the feel of something lengthy and searing brushes on your clit. Your hips grind against it involuntarily, rolling back to meet the upcoming thrusts on your cunt. The image of Seungmin coming back to you. You falter, and Seungmin is the one who kneads your waist, fingers doughing with the surface of your tummy. “Keep sucking him–” he pants. Bending forward, his arm rests under your stomach, two fingers diving inside without restraint. “Vaccuming me inside, think you’re ready?” he hisses through his teeth, thrusting his digits in just to test the waters before pulling out.
You weren’t ready.
He tried to show you mercy, starting off at a horrendously steady pace. Kind enough to. Past the tip and it begins to burn, the stretch wider—lenghtier than fingers. “God,” he strangles. You’re hugging him so tightly, snug and warm. He never wants to leave, etching crescent marks on your skin, “should’ve fuckass bent you over the first time I saw you–”
Every whimper you make vibrates up Jeongin’s cock, and he knows that he should separate — to give you time to get used to taking cock, but a wave of selfishness prevents him from doing as such. If anything, it entices him to force himself deeper. Greedily shoving his length down your throat. You gag, coughing around him as your vision blurs from the double sensation. Seungmin bottoms out, hitting spots that you weren’t aware of existing. “Mhmph–!” is all you can muster, palms landing flat on Jeongin’s spread thighs in your struggle to handle any of this.
They weren’t fond of teamwork, but now they’re moving in tandem. A silent agreement coursing through when they start to thrust, not aiming to be nice anymore with the curses that fly past their lips. Handling you with little care — Jeongin drags your head all the way off, leaving your mouth gaping and craving oxygen — barely a breath before he plunges back in, coercing you to develop a gag reflex on your first time.
Meanwhile Seungmin pounds your behind, ignoring the dangerous quiver of your thighs, holding your legs open with a hand. His other palm lays flat on your stomach, applying a delicious pressure that has you seeing tunnel vision. He’s ramming his way in, breaking your wretched virgin pussy. He’s not going to last long with the sight of you choking on his friend’s cock, each of his erratic thrusts making you throat him deeper. Forcing whimpers out of his chest when you clench — hard from your impending orgasm. His angelic voice fills your mind when he presses his bare chest to your slippery back, giving your clit a harsh slap just to hear similar sounds that might mask his own from you — or Jeongin, both.
You can’t voice a warning when your mouth is stuffed full, instead hurryingly tapping Jeongin’s thighs, making him stutter in his pace to observe your face. Alas, it’s too late, Seungmin can already feel you creaming him, pussy gripping him like a vice. “Fuck, yn–” he moans, balls throbbing harshly that he has to forcingly pull out. Warm hand instantly replacing your much favoured cunt, jerking himself off — wincing at the strokes like it tortured him not to do this inside instead. He threads onto that sanity, thumb applying pressure on the underside of his tip, releasing hot ropes across your back. Tainting you with him.
Jeongin immediately abandons the confinement of your mouth, throwing you flat on the sheets. Your tiny, surprised, “oomph–” is adorable, but he’s got no time to dwell on it. Seeking comfort between the solace of your thighs, knocking them open. He aligns himself, assuming that you can take it now — plunging inside without warning signs. “Wait—!” you struggle, face contorting to pleasured overstimulation, extremely sensitive. “I can’t take no more–”
He cradles your face, a brief attempt of comfort as he leans down to suck on your neck. “You can,” he mutters, biting down. “Just a little more.”
Seungmin takes hold of your jaw, directing your head to face him. His lips meet yours in an awkward, upside-down kiss. The position has your teeth clicking, causing a drooling mess on your chin. Dizzy with how he’s stealing your breath. The whine of his name pushing out of your mouth earns a low grunt from him. Your eyes squeeze, lips smacking and skin slapping echoing throughout the corners of the room. Overwhelming, you can’t stop kissing him, cocking your head to the side to give him better access. Running onto cloud nine by sharing his saliva when he sucks on your tongue harshly.
Jeongin grows desperate, the bites on your flesh turning more cruel in his ride. The taste of that familiar high on the tip of his tongue, obsessed with every pant you take, obsessed with how your nails rake at the muscles on his back. Your stomach contracts under him, and he applies more of his weight, crushing your body in order to blend the two of you together. “Gonna cum, fuck.” he whines, tone taking a higher pitch. Nearly slipping out with how you’re wetting him, not wanting to let him go. He knows you’re close too. He sits up, dragging your legs above his shoulders, supporting you there. Sharing a brief eye contact with Seungmin who takes the hint — three fingers circle your clit in quick eights. You thrash violently, something uncanny from the last two orgasms approaching. You flail your arms, but Seungmin takes hold of them with one hand, pinning your wrists above your head despite your distressed attempts to slow down.
“Feels weird, please–” you shake, tears coating your cheeks as they whisper quick ‘come on’ in your ears. Drawing you impossibly close when the thread snaps — the coil coming undone.
You’re a fountain, juices running out like tap water, horrified when they drag it out. It won’t stop, and they’re gratifying in it. “My god, she’s squirting all over.” Seungmin comments, unable to find the controlled edge in his tone. You cry from shame, though, that’s exactly what you’ve been dying for. Jeongin finally pulls out, bobbing his hand up and down his cock and he spurts onto your stomach, painting you white.
Breathing heavily, a silence falls through. Taking in your dishevelled state, you can barely move a hair. Muscle spasming lazily, fingers twitching from creeping tiredness. You still are in disbelief that this just happened. Not earlier, and certainly not when they start to stand, looking around for something to wipe you with.
A faint, exhausted smile tugs at your lips the second they leave the room.
Maybe.
Maybe those birthday wishes did work.
