#story:wheniwasyours

[moonlightjongin]

When I Was Yours [Prologue]

✿ ━ Pairing Kim Jongin x Reader (main), (side Oh Sehun, side professor!Lee Taemin)

✿ ━ Genre Romance/Smut

✿ ━ Summary Let’s say you have a history with Kim Jongin. A tumultuous, drama filled history that didn’t end on the best of notes. Let’s also say you’re in a predicament you never saw yourself in, à la sleeping with your college professor. Let’s say he finds out about it in the worst of ways and isn’t happy with his discovery… what happens next?

✿ ━ Wordcount 20,324 words

➼ Warnings for this chapter: Smut, alcohol consumption, profanity ✽ Main Masterlist | Read on: aff   ✽ Tumblr links: prologue, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, ending | Story Masterlist

  “God, you are the most infuriating human being on the planet,” you ground out, shoving the stack of papers from the project you share with him -- that you’d been giving a final once-over -- into your binder in a haste.

Of all the goddamn people in the world to find you in such a predicament, it had to be him, didn’t it? Yes, you get it, it’s not ‘right’. You’ve been through the possible repercussions in your head a million times already, you’ve tried staying away for your professor’s sake, for your own, and yet… you can’t seem to manage it.  It’s not something you foresaw yourself doing a year ago, either!

Does that mean Kim - I’m going to welcome myself back into your life after abandoning you for someone else and purposely ruining your reputation and right to scholarly peace - Jongin is allowed to bring it up every time he encounters you, that you’ll stand here and let him?

Hell no.

He’s on your tail as you make your way out of the room. “At least I’m not fucking my professor.”

 One could argue that an underlying interest in your professors had been laying dormant since your senior year but you’d have to quell that theory in its tracks because as it stood, a high school teacher happened to be very separate from a college professor – especially in their attractability factor – and by no means of exaggeration, you promise that not a single one of your high school teachers holds a candle to the professor you currently have the hots for.

You’ll introduce him and your sticky situation in a little while, but for now, you know you’ll need to take a walk down memory lane in the hope of introducing a few key characters and giving them a little backstory, so their present day behavior doesn’t come as too much of a surprise.  

The truth of the matter was, high school you… well, she was a distant creature, miles away from your current self. Back then, you used to be best friends with your mortal enemy, so it goes without saying that things can change, that people certainly change.

He, Kim Jongin – the very bane of your existence – is a perfect example of that. As much as you pity her, high school you never saw the betrayal coming, she couldn’t even contemplate the thought of being hurt by Jongin, or the thought of the supposedly solid foundation of their friendship cracking underneath her feet, being abandoned out at sea, left without a paddle by the person she considered closest to her.  

He’d always been a pain in the ass, but you never thought he’d be capable of hurting you the way he had. You suppose you learned an important lesson from the ordeal and it’s that no matter how well you think you know a person, they can surprise you.

Though, more prominently, that no matter how close you think you are with a person and how much trust you’ve placed into them, they can so easily tear that trust apart, tear you apart if they feel their ends justify their own means.

Truth is, people suck. The earlier you learn that lesson, the safer you’ll be. That’s something you’ll hold to these days at least.

You’d never been a person who took much note of popularity lists or high school reputations of any kind – there were a million and one other things to be focusing on, for sure, but one thing you’d always thought you’d be assured of was a senior year that would pass by smoothly, the easy assumption you’d slip under the radar as you had every grade, prior.

The last thing you expected was to become the protagonist of your best friend’s ‘revenge’ agenda, have the entirety of your school have your name on their lips months before graduation; equipped with fully formed opinions of who you were as a person, and namely who you’d screw to keep your name on everyone’s lips. How you’d play a convincing act of a hardworking, studious girl who mostly wanted to keep in the background, but secretly enjoyed playing with people’s hearts and minds, stringing them along whenever it suited you, someone who desired attention above all else, even to the point of throwing her supposed friends – and love interests – to the sharks.

Those being: the puppet master himself, Kim Jongin, and the quarterback with a – previous – heart of gold, Oh Sehun.

Ask anyone around and you’ll hear tales of how they’d always been such close friends, like peas in a pod, inseparable… until you strode into the scene and placed a giant wedge into their friendship, for no reason other than the falsified assumption you enjoyed playing with people’s hearts and minds, and certainly, you’ll hear all about it taking them a good year to reconcile and reach the point they’re at now.

But the truth was, they hadn’t been friends, at any point prior to now. Ever. They’d be in close contact often, because as much as he mocked cliques and high school stereotypes, Jongin had joined the football team alongside Sehun, he’d just been mad it was Sehun who scored the higher, more prized position on the team.

It was his fatal flaw in actuality, he just had to be the best at everything. You knew where it stemmed from – he had a freakishly high IQ, and parents that had always expected the best from him, but even he should’ve known where to draw the line and that was at stupid high school sports teams, and the inarguable fact that he wouldn’t best a guy who’d been playing said sport all his life when Jongin had just taken it upon himself to start playing.

Sehun – who would be too sweet natured and perhaps ditzy to register anything said as so, yes, but that didn’t change the fact that Jongin would sit there and throw insult after insult at him any time they did interact, nor negate the fact that they were anything but close friends, back then.

They’re legitimate friends now, of course, and not-so-ironically – as this was probably the sole deciding factor for him in terms of befriending Sehun – Jongin’s also wormed his way into Sehun’s contact list of all eligible university hotties on offer, which is a feat in itself because when you knew him, as much as he’d showcased attraction to them on occasion, he could barely even look half these girls in the eye, and couldn’t go five seconds without being the ass he was and throwing some backhanded compliment their way.

And no, you don’t miss him, or the friendship he so easily threw down the drain. You’ve spent too long mourning it, mourning a man that doesn’t even exist anymore and probably never did.  

Actually, if you could go back in time and talk to senior-year you, you’d say one word. Run.

Run, there’s a reason you’re the only person he’ll call his friend. And it’s not because you’re the only one ‘smart enough’ to keep up with him and his know-it-all mouth.

Run, you’re not as special to him as he’d like to make you think. Just ‘convenient’.

Run, if the situation called for it and he deemed the prize worthy enough, he’d turn on you the minute he got the chance, also.  

Back then, you know you’d have refuted with several ‘buts’.

But as much as he may only stick to having you as a friend, you know he’s just a bit awkward with other people, because he’s always felt othered because of his intellectual prowess; that if you needed any testament of his gentle and loving nature, you’d just need to take one look at the way he’d treat animals and those in need.

How he’d offer a helping hand to you without a second thought, even if he was beyond busy himself. Stop whatever it was he was doing and make his way over to you as soon as he possibly could.

But he promised that no matter what happened, you’d always have each other.

And do you know what, senior-year you? He lied.

But–

All the attention and the niceness and the sweetness he swore he reserved for you only persisted long enough for him to set his sights on something else, and you were dropped cold turkey? Yeah, you know. All too well.

No reminders are necessary from the manifestation of senior-year you, and no memories looked at through a rose-colored lens will take his actions away, either. You really need to stop trying to do so.

It only ends up hurting and confusing you further.

As you exhale harshly, casting a stray glance at the soft brown hair of the professor you swear you’re not having intimate relations with, you wonder if the senior-year ordeal with Jongin has set the basis for your entire life, that because of what transpired with him, you’re only able to truly trust those that have as much to risk as you do on the romantic sphere. People that are in a state of maturity that senior-year and present day Jongin surely lack.

It’s a weird situation in itself, your professor has the similar gift-slash-curse as Jongin of being too intelligent for his own good, but has taken it several steps further, having graduated early and having accepted a position of teaching he’s not even sure he’s ready for, purely because he can’t see himself doing anything else as useful with his time, besides, you know, finding the cure for cancer, or something.

He’s only a few years older than yourself, and you’re not of high school age any longer, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s your professor and you of all people realize that.

He’s always been the voice of reason here too, you’re the one that approached him first, you’re the one that struggles the most in staying away from him, so you feel that if anyone is to shoulder the blame of the you and your professor becoming a thing, thing, it’s you.

You’d even go as far as to argue that he’s healthier for you than Jongin ever had been, and no, that’s not just because you’re going to be holding a life-long grudge against Jongin or anything.

It’s the truth. He fucked you up, intentionally.

You’ll never forgive him.

Exactly 2 Years ago, Senior year of High School – probably a Thursday: Noon.

Jongin’s arm snakes around your waist, as he pulls you plush against him. “What are you poisoning your digestive system with today I wonder?” He starts, before he stills, following your gaze, wanting to know what has captured your attention so wholly, to the point you’re about to hold up the cafeteria’s lunch line.

“I still can’t believe you have a crush on him,” he then groans. The peeved flicker he sends to Oh Sehun’s form goes completely amiss to you, because you’re too busy staring at the way his newly-dyed blonde locks flop slightly in front of his much too dreamy eyes. “He was nice to you, what, one time?”

“One time more than you’ve ever been,” you grumble, flicking his hands off you and dragging him towards your designated table. Jongin then finally gets to eye your meal, features contorting into a disgusted expression as he pulls out his pre-packed lunch, and its very picture of health.

‘I’m not risking food poisoning for anyone thanks,’ he’d say, whenever someone would ask why he’d accompany you to the lunch line if he’d never actually get anything, then you’d ask the same thing, but include the factor of his already prepared lunch. He’d just mumble something in response like, ‘I wouldn’t want you to get lost. Or whatever.’

It was cute in its own, odd, Jongin manner of existing.

“Plus he’s like a total manwhore,” he continues, deciding he’s not finished. “Even if he means well the majority of the time, he can hardly keep it in his pants–”

“You sound like you’re talking from first hand experience there,” you sing in interruption, showing him your pearly whites, which considering your sweet tooth and inability to say no to sweet treats, bothers him to this day.  

Ruined teeth are his main argument of you slowing down on the sweet treats, but you’ve not been affected by cavities until this day and you think it’s something that will stay that way, regardless of whether you have a treat here and there, not constantly, like he exaggerates.

He just doesn’t eat anything fun, ever. It’s all health, health, health with Jongin.

“Ugh, speak of the devil,” Jongin then pipes up, but it seems your ‘that’s Sehun’s cologne’ senses are tingling way ahead of him.

But god, does he smell good.

They both do, obviously, but it’s Sehun you have the hots for, not your know-it-all best friend. It hits differently.

“Hi, Y/N.”

You try your hardest not to choke on your sandwich, having realized he was making his way over to your table yes, but certainly not expecting him to greet you directly, and first. Usually Jongin’s the one he’d be talking to if he ever did make his way towards the two of you.

“H-hello Sehun,” you say, forcing your head up to make direct eye contact with him, thanking the seat for the fact you’ll be able to stay upright this way, because if you had to do it standing, with Oh Sehun this close a proximity…

Jongin glances between the two of you, tsking. “I know she was a middle-school mathlete and all but no she won’t help you with your algebra homework Sehun, sorry.”

You elbow him. He loves telling people this, even though you want it forcibly removed from the memory of everyone who does know about it, and want it to be the last piece of information someone who hadn’t known stumbles upon.  He even keeps a photo of mathlete you in his wallet out of ‘pride’, but you know it’s just there for him to be able to tease you. You hate him sometimes, you really do.  

A smirk makes its way onto Sehun’s features and you think, great. Because you’ve seen that expression before and you know what it means. Yeah maybe he won’t be keeping a photo of mathlete you in his wallet like your demented best friend, but it’s not a fact he’s going to be forgetting any time soon, is it?

Plus, you have a massive crush on the guy. He’s the last person you want to have knowledge of your dreaded mathlete past.  

“I’m not here for that, Jongin. I came with an invite – the greatness of this season calls for a celebration, wouldn’t you say?”

You quite liked winter yourself but phrasing it like that seemed a little excessive… then it dawns on you. Season, football. They’d done particularly well this time round, so they wanted to throw parties… of course. Was he ever thinking of anything else? You really needed to brush up on your football knowledge at this rate, seeing as it mattered so much to him and you really did want to have more conversations with him.

“I know you’re probably not even that into sports to be celebrating with us, but I throw a lot of parties and never see you around, Y/N. I’d like to see you at this one.” He leans in closer, crouching so he’s ear level with you, lowering his tone of voice, the feeling of his breath against your ear leaving shivers in its wake. “There’ll be cupcakes, seeing as I heard you like sweet things.”

   “He knows I like sweet things,” you say dreamily, leaning back on your bed, wondering quite merrily what else he knows about you, because until that moment, you thought it only extended as far as your name. And even more so it has you wondering if there’s actually a chance for you and Sehun after all.

You’d spent a long time convincing yourself there wasn’t. So had Jongin, actually.

But he had ulterior motives, like always. He’d always been grumpy about the thought of another man coming into your life and whisking you off your feet, he was overprotective like that. No one knew you as well as he did, and he’d gotten used to being the most important to you.

He’d get over it eventually, you both knew that.

“Everyone knows you like sweet things,” Jongin scoffs from your desk chair, pulling the beak of the paper crane he’d made from the instruction sheet of your Mandarin homework backwards and forwards, eyes everywhere but your face. “You’ve had a bag of those disgusting frosted strawberry things on you at any given moment since, like, second grade or something.”  

You know it always ends in an argument that gets so intense you don’t talk for three days, so you hold your tongue. But they’re so far from disgusting, and whilst he may be too smart for his own good, his taste buds are far from it.  “Are we going?”

He still won’t look up from his paper crane and at this point you know he’s sulking. You’re not sure why exactly. Probably the thought of having to interact with Sehun for an extended period of time. “I hate parties.”  

“You hate everything,” you groan. “Yet are somehow simultaneously involved in all the everythings that you hate.”

“It’s a defense mechanism,” he mutters. “Can’t be taken down by something you’ve already conquered.”

“Jongin,” you whine, and he glances up at this, cursing himself for it. He’d never been able to resist your puppy eyes. “You know you don’t want me to arrive at my first high school party alone. It’s taken me this long to even get invited, and it’ll be my last chance seeing as it’s senior year.”

Jongin rolls his eyes at you. “They’re so fucking stupid, though. Not even worth the effort. But okay, only because it’s you.”

You send him your sweetest smile.  

“But it’s just because I want to see you in a skimpy outfit. And help you choose one, seeing as I know you buy them, but never wear them.”  He gets up from your desk chair and makes his way to your closet, peeking through your articles of clothing, until he’s met with what he’s looking for. “And here we are.”

“That’s because school is, you know, school. There’s a dress code and all…”

“We have a uniform, Y/N,” Jongin reminds you, blankly. “Honestly contrary to being such nerds, we do go out a lot. Yet you still never wear anything daring.”

“Why would I need to wear a skimpy outfit to this party? I have so many cute dresses that don’t show an excessive amount of boob and thigh to get the point across, as well, you know.”

He tilts his head at your expression. “He’s only inviting you because he wants to get into your pants, you know that right? Guys like him have a one track mind, and eyesight. Gotta dress to impress to get anywhere with him, baby.”

“He’s not just inviting me to get into my pants,” you mutter. “You’re just saying that because you want him to be a stereotypical high school jerk, but we both know he’s not.”

Jongin puffs out a breath, grumbling to himself. “Whatever the case, I don’t get the fascination. I’m way hotter. And way smarter. You should be standing in front of your closet planning your sexiest outfit that you’d be wearing for me and surprising me with it tomorrow, yet we’re here picking an outfit together for you to wear to show off in front of Oh Sehun, instead. That sucks.”

He really liked to draw the flirting thing out when he got started with it, by the way. “So smart you alienate every person who shows interest,” you sing. “Plus you’re my best friend and it’s just… weird to even think about.”  

His eyes narrow at you in contemplation, before he looks away, scoffing slightly. “Even if he means well, I did tell you that he’s a huge playboy, but you keep acting like you don’t hear me. I’m more worried about you falling too fast for him and getting hurt, than anything. Truly, if anyone’s going to corrupt you, it should be me, we both know that. Just on the prospect of safety.”

But you only roll your eyes. “Yeah right. We might joke around from time to time but at the heart of the matter, there’s too much to ruin to even contemplate the thought of actually going through with anything. We both know that.”

“Like your bedsheets?” He seems to nod in agreement. “Or your lips? – That patch of your neck I just know is your sweet spot? Sure, there are a lot of ways I want to ruin you, but unlike him, I don’t need to break your heart to do it.”

Case in point right there. “You just like flirting with me. You won’t actually do anything.”

“Come over to mine tomorrow night instead of going to that party and let’s see,” he sings, pulling you up onto your feet, teasing smile painting his lips.

“Ugh,” you mutter, shrugging his hands off you, and making your way to your closet, Jongin in tow.  

“Otherwise let’s find you your sexiest outfit, entirely for my benefit, not captain quarterback.”

   Jongin’s eyes trail from the soft waves of your hair to the off white color of the dress you’re wearing that cuts off mid-thigh; how it cinches in at your waist, how its lace bodice gives way to a choker that’s attached to its neck and nods in approval. “Man, have I got taste,” he sings.

“Get in the car,” you grumble.

“What, you’re not going to check me out, too?” He whines.

You give him a non committal once over as you haul him into the passenger seat, willing the taunt of him still not having his driving licence to the back of your mind. Maybe you do pick on each other too much as is, maybe you should stop teasing him so much. “You clean up nicely.”

He scoffs. “I look like a freaking snack tonight, stop pretending.”

“If it weren’t so morbid I’d laugh at the thought of those being your last words if this car were to crash.”

“You know it’d only crash because I’m looking this damn edible and you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

Nah, you’re definitely going to keep picking on him.

 Jongin spends a little time greeting his old friends and acquaintances you vaguely know by name but haven’t really interacted with, hearing their chorus of ‘wows’ and ‘who’s this, is she new?’, resisting the urge to tell some of them you’d been at the same school since second grade and were always glued to Jongin’s side so how they could not put two and two together, but then you wonder if you really look that different to them right now simply because you’re wearing contacts and what you assumed was party-appropriate makeup as opposed to neutral, everyday tones like at school, and the fact that your uniform isn’t covering the entirety of your body.

Maybe it’s time to ditch the glasses for contacts? But you thought the nerdy best friend look the two of you sported at school was quite cute as it was, with your matching glasses and all.  

So maybe not.

“Are we late?” You ask in worry.

“Does it matter? Not like anyone’s clock watching. I’m sure lover boy will be making his way over any minute now.”

“Y/N!” Sehun makes his way over, and Jongin grumbles, seeming to be peeved that he was correct in his prediction. Sehun nods at Jongin. “Jongin,” he says, before his eyes flit back towards you and your… outfit?

Yeah no, that’s not where his eyes are resting at the current moment.

“Her eyes are up here,” Jongin says, as if he’s only just remembering that other people will be seeing you in your skimpy outfit as well as him, and it’s not an observation he’s all that happy with. “It’s not nice to make a lady feel objectified on your, what, third conversation with her? Not that any of your interactions have had much substance as is, but…”

Sehun clears his throat, interrupting Jongin as he does. “You look beautiful, Y/N. Seriously.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, blush tinting your cheeks.

Noticing you and Sehun have been edging closer in proximity to the point your hands are brushing, Jongin decides to pipe up once more. “What’s the ritual circle in the living room for, Sehun?”

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Sehun says, smiling softly at you. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, a playful gleam that almost wills you closer. “Want to join us?”

“Some archaic game from the 1950s or something,” Jongin butts in, noticing your dazed expression, as if you don’t know what seven minutes in heaven is. 1953, he then mouths to you, as though it’s killing him to not be getting into the specifics, which it probably is, he stores facts like an encyclopedia.

Thank you for another random fact I never knew I needed, you grumble back, sarcastically, noticing you’ve started to do the same since becoming friends with him.

“It’s still commonly played,” Sehun says, almost in countenance, and Jongin raises an eyebrow.  

“Sure, we’ll play,” you say just before Jongin can open his mouth and tell Sehun otherwise, dragging Jongin to the circle that’s formed.

“So the deal is, we’re playing with a little bit of a twist. We spin the bottle and whoever it lands on first must enter the closet. Person one spins the bottle that will choose their partner, but the second person the bottle lands on can either elect themselves to go into the closet, or pick someone else for person one and dare them to go through with it, regardless of who it is they choose. You spend seven minutes exactly in the closet with them or the person they pick for you and you can do anything. From a simple kiss, to making out to full on sex.” His eyes seem to flit to you as he says this and you feel Jongin tense up from beside you. “Granted it’s a quickie by definition, of course,” he follows on, smirking a little.  

“Or as long as he’s capable of lasting,” Jongin sings from beside you, and you elbow him.

   “Y/N,” Sehun says as the bottle he’d set to spin slows down and lands on you. Which of course it does. Your first high school party ever and of course you’re picked first for the sex game. “Looks like you’re up first.”

He hands you the bottle, his hand brushing against yours as you take it from him and set it down on the floor, setting it off. It spins and spins and spins until it begins to slow and slow and slow some more before it finally lands on…

Jongin.

The same Jongin who seems to breathe a sigh of relief, but you feel an ounce of disappointment bubble within you, now knowing there’ll be no kissing – or otherwise taking place.

Hell even if it wasn’t Sehun it’d landed on, you were looking forward to mindlessly making out with someone for once.    

“Want to spin again?” Sehun asks, as if picking up on your momentary disappointment.

“There’s no one she’d rather have the bottle land on,” Jongin says snootily. “I mean, look at me.”

He waits for approximately half a second before he gets up onto his feet and says a: “Anyway, of course I elect myself.”

“Fair enough,” Sehun says, seeming to be holding back a sigh. “Follow him into the closet, then, Y/N. Seven minutes starts from the moment you get in the closet and shut the door.” He stops you momentarily as you begin the pursuit towards the closet. “And meet up with me after the game finishes, if you’d like.”

This time you certainly notice the way Jongin’s eyes narrow at Sehun’s proximity as he stalls his own journey towards the closet.

“Guess I’ll see you then, then,” you say, hoping it sounds breezy, and slightly carefree, rather than ‘I’m totally freaking out right now’, as you’re, you know, totally freaking out right now.

 “I know we’re not actually going to kiss or anything–”

“Hold up,” Jongin starts. “We’re not?”

“We’re best friends, best friends don’t do that kind of shit. Plus I had coffee before we set off,” you supply, like it’s all the answer you need. “You hate coffee.”

He almost sprouts off into his ‘actually I like – and only like – coffee a very specific way with a very specific coffee to milk ratio and can only drink it as such’, which also translates as: he hates coffee. There’s no argument if every sip you take regardless of how milky the damn cup is, makes you cringe like you’ve just put an especially sour lemon in your mouth. “Actually–”

“You hate coffee,” you emphasize. “We’ve been over this multiple times already. Your requirements to drink coffee are too specific for you to accurately call that enjoyment and that’s final!”

“And you’ve wasted an entire minute,” he huffs out, leaning against the back of the closet, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re serious,” you then whisper, noticing the pout on his lips, that’s only deepening by the moment, knowing you must look as flabbergasted as you currently feel. “You actually came in here with the intention of kissing me?”

“Yeah,” Jongin says easily. “Seemed like a great way to spend six minutes of my day. Six minutes and lessening,” he reminds in that same pouty tone.  

“But Jongin that’s–” Not what best friends did? Not how your friendship worked? Not like the two of you even liked each other like that?

“Us wasting time with every word either of us speak, yeah, I know, I’m counting the seconds too. So how about we get to it, my dear Y/N? What could go wrong?”  

Only a lot. Everything the two of you shared, even? It was no lie that Jongin was attractive and you were all for kissing strangers a moment ago, but this was your best friend. For some reason that was different.

Jongin was off limits in every sense of the meaning. He always would be. Even if he looked particularly gorgeous at this close a proximity, and actually had very kissable looking lips.

That you’d never really paid much attention to prior to this moment.

“What are you so afraid of?” He asks, chuckling. The sound of his laughter like the gentle caress of an ocean wave on a particularly sunny day, suddenly. “Falling in love with me?”

“Whatever,” you say, chuckling. Like that would ever happen. For either of you.  

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“I guess, seeing as it’s kind of the point of the game and all…”

   The shadows of light between the clothing make the planes of his face more defined than you remember, but it’s most likely the proximity, and as your eyes fall to his ever plump, pillowy lips, he edges closer, cupping your cheek, his lips making their journey towards your own, before he engulfs them with his own.

The sound that bubbles in the back of your throat surprises you too, but it makes Jongin’s grip on you tighten, as if you’re a rope that’s just been thrown from the shore and he’s been on the verge of drowning out at sea for the past few minutes, clinging to you as if you’re his very lifeline. His fingers thread through the soft waves of your hair, as he gently nips at your lower lip, begging for you to grant him entrance.

You do, and as you do so, your tongues slide into each other’s embrace, entering into a battle where neither will become victor, nor desires to. Jongin pulls away eventually, as you gasp for breath, but he swoops back in to capture your lips once more, peppering soft, but slightly frantic pecks against them, lower and lower still as he embarks on his journey towards your jawline, edging ever closer to your neck which seems to be his main target here, before he promptly pulls away once more, making you murmur in protest, and looks deeply into your eyes.

“Straddle me,” he whispers.  

And you know he doesn’t have to ask you twice before you’re doing exactly that, murmuring his name softly as he directs your hand underneath his shirt and over his taut abdominal muscles, letting it rest there against the warmth of his skin.

You don’t meet lips this time, but stay in this very position, catching your breaths, a look of slight awe and confusion passing over your own features, before finally pulling away from each other’s embrace, mere moments before the closet door opens and a wave of light invades your vision.

It’s Sehun who greets you the minute the door is fully opened. “I’m up next,” he says, as he takes in your dishevelled appearance and smeared lipstick, seeming to wince slightly as he realizes what took place between Jongin and yourself. “Wishing it were you the bottle landed on, Y/N. But I’ll see you after, right?”

You nod, but he notes that movement is a little delayed, like you’re still vaguely unsure of your surroundings.

“There’s alcohol being set up in the kitchen if you want to go get some in the meantime,” he then says, directing it at both yourself and Jongin, who simply nods and threads his fingers into your own, pulling you out of the closet and along with him.

  He’s leaning against the counter, drinking in your expression. Something’s bothering you, deeply. Usually he’d know exactly what it is, what caused it and how to combat it, but he’s not sure if he knows where to start if it’s the kiss that has you feeling so out of place, so far from your usual temperament.

Instead of asking – for the first time in a long time fearing what you’ll reply with, he takes out two glasses, and rinses them under the faucet thoroughly, making sure there’s nothing funny placed on the inside of either. Hopefully that would be a long shot, but a party was a party, and any chance a predator had, they’d take.

Rather than edge towards the already opened bottle, he takes the one beside it that currently remains unopened for that exact reason, also.

Taking the bottle into his hand, unscrewing its cap, he begins to pour a drink. It’s yours. He’ll pour his after, though he’ll offer the drinks at the same time. “We’ve never done this together, have we?" This captures your attention and you blink at him, taking a moment to register his words. Jongin notes how giddy the movement of your eyes from his eyes, and their flicker down towards his lips makes him feel. He wonders if the kiss is replaying in your mind the way it is in his. “Getting drunk?”   Jongin nods, edging the glass towards you. You take it from his hands, but then pause. "I’m driving,” you mutter. “I can’t drink.” “Seyoung can drop us off. I asked her when we arrived and she’s fine with it. You’d have to hand her your keys of course but it’s better than nothing, huh?” Sehun’s twin sister. She was a lot closer to Jongin than you, but Jongin had been trying to change that prospect as of late, much more open to the thought of you growing close with Seyoung over the likes of Sehun. You told him he’d probably need to be worried about you falling for her too, considering her resemblance to her brother. Half jokingly, seeing as the feelings you had for Sehun didn’t seem like they’d be lessening any time soon. But who knows, clearly there was something in the Oh family genes that seemed to be calling to you. Jongin would proceed to tell you their resemblance was the very reason he couldn’t find himself attracted to her, completely negating to mention the fact that his heart had been deeply set on someone else, and had been for quite some time now.

You contemplate it for exactly half a second before you accept the glass and take it into your hands, taking a sip. He’d only poured a small amount into the glass as it was, he knew you weren’t so big on drinking.

It’s bitter and it burns the back of your throat but you refuse to be bested by it, meeting his gaze head on as you force the rest of the alcohol down your throat. Jongin shakes his head in equal parts worry and amusement, but takes a sip of his own drink.

And he disguises his wince better sure, but it’s still there. When he’s finished, you edge closer to him, perked up. “We’re not leaving just yet are we?” Jongin snorts. “The party has only just begun.” With this he threads his fingers into yours and pulls you along with him. “Let’s explore the house." You chew at your lip, surreptitiously glancing back at the living room from which you just came. Jongin’s eyes haven’t left your form, but seeing as you’re looking away, you don’t notice how he rolls them at the sight of you. “You seriously think he’ll be looking for you after finishing up with whatever her face is who’s in there with him? Y/N, they’re going straight to his bedroom after getting out of that closet, don’t be naive.” You puff out a breath, tensing at his words. “You don’t know that,” you protest. "We both know that,” he says monotonously. “Don’t let it get you down though, I know for a fact there’s a couple of spare rooms littered all around this house. How about we break off from the party and play a two person truth or dare in one of those?” Waggling his eyebrows at you, the movement more comical than suggestive. You snort. “Two person truth or dare? What would be the point of that?” “Getting away from the noise for starters, and being alone with the only person I can stand in this household otherwise. We should get drunk together, Y/N, but not around the rest of these idiots.” “I promised Sehun I’d go see him after his turns ends, though.” “And may I remind you that his turn will just continue into his bedroom with whatsherface or some other whatsherface. Like it always does, like it always will. He just can’t help himself, Y/N.” You open your mouth in protest, but quieten as you notice Jongin making his way to the kitchen’s cabinet and grabbing another bottle of alcohol, taking the bottle you’d drunk from into his arms as he’s at it. “Not only that, you look thoroughly kissed out.” “That was all we did,” you remind him. “I know that,” he mutters. “But does Sehun know that? Something in me highly doubts that.“ “I told him I’d meet him, Jongin. Besides, you have no proof of what you’re saying. I’d like to check at the very least, okay? This could be my only chance at spending some quality time with Sehun and you know how much I like him. I get that you’re worried but…” You shake your head, sighing. You didn’t want this to turn into an argument, but he knew how you felt about his incessant over-protectiveness. “I’ll be okay.” Jongin merely shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll be in the second room on the left with the bottles. If I’m right, meet me there. If not…” He looks like he doesn’t even want to contemplate this. “Enjoy your night I guess.” “Will do,” you say.

  It’s not exactly as Jongin had described, but it’s certainly enough to make reality slap you in the face, dig its sharp nails into your skin and embed them there, tear into what was once naive flesh, and draw the first speck of wounded blood to the surface. He’s alone, for a moment. Bottle of beer in his hand, laying leisurely on the couch, eyes flitting across the room. It has you wondering if he’s searching for you. And you contemplate mustering up the courage to waltz over and send him your most flirtatious smile as you lull him into you the same way he had with you during lunch, yesterday.   But then the girl he entered into the closet comes into view, and sure, you’d considered your outfit daring, but she’s definitely taking it several notches above you. You watch as his eyes trail down her form as a lazy smirk paints itself onto his features, before he pulls her onto his lap and whispers something into her ear that makes her giggle. Jongin’s right. He isn’t thinking about you when there’s a handful of other girls throwing themselves at him at any given moment, going well out of their way to reserve a space in his memory. Sluggishly, you make your way out of the living room, up the stairs and embark on the short journey to the second room on the left, where your best friend presently resides, alcohol in tow. “Save the smart ass comebacks,” is the first thing you say as you trudge into the room, huffing. “But, yeah, okay, you were right.”   “Come in,” is all he murmurs, but you balk, blinking. He’s never this demure with you without ulterior motive. And you know exactly what that motive is right now. “What the hell do you think is about to happen here, Jongin?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest at the image of your best friend, who is clearly checking you out as he pats the space on the bed beside him, in a room where only the two of you reside, a fact that won’t be changing for several hours, at the very least.   “I could think of a few things,” he lulls. “Don’t,” you grumble, but proceed to climb onto the bed and slide in beside him, letting out a breath of frustration as you lean your head onto his shoulder. His fingers thread through your hair as he begins to comb through it in a manner that is nothing if not relaxing… but a moment later, you decide you’ve had it with requesting refuge, hiding from your circumstances, so you pull away, locking your gaze onto his own. “I can’t believe we kissed,” you say, your eyes searching his own. You’re not sure what you’re looking for exactly, but you know you’re happy that he’s choosing not to tease you about Sehun, happy that it’s just the two of you. Happy your best friend knows when to be playful and when to be serious. But you still can’t get over the fact the two of you have tasted each other’s lips, you can’t seem to erase the newly embedded memory of the sounds he’d made as you’d done so, the protective manner in which he’d held you, the neediness that presented itself as he’d pull you closer, the warmth of his skin. It’s strange. He’s Jongin, your Jongin. Your best friend. But he’s also a heck of a good kisser. Should those statements be coexisting? Above all, you’re happy that there’s alcohol present, too.  You don’t want to be thinking straight in the instance you do have to talk about the feelings bubbling within you with what you witnessed from Sehun, your irritation at your own naivety. “I’m hoping it’s the first of many.” “Don’t joke around like that,” you scoff, pushing his hands out of your hair fully as you edge towards the glasses and pour yourself and Jongin a drink, bringing his back and handing it over to him.     He chuckles as he takes it from you. And it’s strange to see him like this, so carefree and relaxed, though it’s a state you’ve seen from him often throughout your years of friendship, tonight it feels… different. More grown up, somehow. He’d totally kiss you again if given the chance, wouldn’t he? You almost chuckle at the thought. The very last thing you’d envisioned happening at your first high school party would be drunkenly tearing your best friend’s clothes off, but it’s looking a lot more plausible now. How many more drinks until it becomes a reality? Still you make no move to slow down on the alcohol. Maybe it’s the better option here, to let loose and lose control in the safety of your best friend’s arms. Make regrets with him. Do reckless things you both know you’ll regret in the future, but didn’t care to question at that moment in time.   “What have we got to lose?” But that question brings you back to reality, even momentarily. “A lot. Plus we’ve been best friends for so long that everyone’s so over the stage of assuming we’ll become a thing.”   “Who cares,” he whispers, rolling his eyes at your words. “About them, about what they think, about meaningless popularity, if I want you, I want you, I don’t need their approval.” You mull over this, nodding. “Plus, you’re not going to find me kissing some other girl after promising I’d meet you and–”  But it’s too harsh a reminder, this soon into the night. “You know, forget about all of that. Let’s just get drunk and forget we even came to this godforsaken party, huh?”

Jongin searches your eyes for a moment, the worry clear. When he’s happy with his findings, assured of your mental state, a smile graces his features as he reaches over to clink his glass against yours. “Gladly.”

And maybe his lips find their way to yours when you’re halfway through your second glass, and maybe his hands are trailing down the side of your dress as he directs you onto his lap, seeming to press your bodies so impossibly close together that you’re not sure what separation felt like until this moment, and perhaps as you’re straddling him it’s becoming abundantly clear how much he wants to do this with you right now, how it seems to be taking a lot of restraint for him to not push you into the mattress, how you’re losing the clarity of arguing why it’d be stupid for him to do so.   “God, we’re drunk,” you cough out in a fit of giggles, between the kisses. “All it’s doing is helping me show you that I’m not always ‘just flirting with you’, when I’m flirting with you. Sometimes talk is cheap, Y/N.” Your hands still in the middle of their journey towards the defined muscles you know reside underneath his shirt, which makes him pull away to glance at you and drink in your expression, in effort to gauge what it is that’s stopping you in your tracks.  And all of its five letters. Jongin only sighs, knowing exactly what’s going through your mind. “I’d hate to be so vulgar here,” he begins, but he doesn’t at all, you can see that from the blasé smile he wears on his plush lips. “But I doubt he’s worrying about you when he’s dicking down some other girl and she’s all ‘Oh Sehun, Oh Sehun’ in his ear.” “That’s his name.” Beside yourself, your nose crinkles at the thought. “God, that must get annoying.” “Ah Sehun,” Jongin supplies, then shrugs. “Not that you’re ever going to get the chance to moan it now. But who cares, I’m here, and the thought of a chorus of ‘oh Jongin’s’ from your lips won’t get annoying to hear.” And for a moment, and the moment that follows, you consider it. Then reality hits you all over again that this is your best friend. Who flirts with you often yes, but your whole deal was that was as far as it extended. Harmless, stupid flirting. Your whole deal was that that would be as far as it would ever extend. Yet you’d kissed him more than once tonight. Earlier, in a state of sobriety you currently lack, so god only knows what will happen if you stay locked in this room with him, bottle in hand, emotions all over the place, allowing his hands to tug back into your hair as your bodies press up against each other like the sudden key to survival, more important than the air you breathe.     “Let’s just go home,” you mutter, forcing yourself off his lap as you stumble to find your shoes. It makes sense really, you’re out of your comfort zone, in an entirely new territory, you’re going to revert to the person’s side you know best and do all the crazy shit you’d assumed took place in these establishments with them, rather than a random stranger. But Jongin doesn’t seem so convinced of this, a peculiar sparkle in his eyes that tells you he thinks this exact situation will be taking place once more, sooner than either of you want to contemplate. “Think about it, though, hm? Sehun’s just got his fingers in too many pies–” “Stop speaking,” you grumble, grimacing. “–So maybe he’s having a little trouble seeing you as the gem you are. But that’s not on you.” He peers at you once more, the look in his eyes so soft, encasing such a gentle adoration, it’s as if you’re the most precious person he’s ever laid them on. It’s as though you’re thinking the same thing, that the alcohol isn’t helping all that much, that you’d rather just lay in each other’s arms for a while, forget about the party, forget about the world, even. “Let’s relax a little, then find Seyoung?” Jongin says, placing the half emptied glasses onto the bedside table, before he shuffles further into the covers, with you following. You nod, edging closer so you can snuggle into Jongin’s embrace. He begins to speak, the timbre of his voice so coaxing and lulling you find your eyelids fluttering closed almost out of instinct.  

    In the weeks that follow the party, though you’ll never admit it to him, Jongin’s words have been replaying in your mind. More often than you’d like to admit, too. He’s been flirting with you the same amount as before, so nothing’s changed on that front, but neither of you have gone out of your way to bring up the kisses you shared the night of the party, the fact that the two of you were truly contemplating going that much further. It’s winter, each passing day seems to be accompanied by a further flurry of snow than the one that came the day before – doubts that the school would even be open today had already fluttered around, though no announcement of early closure had been forwarded as of yet. Regardless of whether you’re dismissed early, Jongin and yourself are here, sitting in your should-be first class of the day, the only two around. You have one of his earbuds in your ear, and since the last time you’d been in this exact position, you’re desperately trying to resist the urge to point out the worsening of his already atrocious music taste, the fact that you haven’t enjoyed even one of the past seven songs that have played. You try not to gag at the taste of his "health” smoothie after he offers you a sip, knowing your curiosity always gets the better of you in these cases and you can’t possibly refuse. You know that all he wants is for you to balance the sugar out with some healthier alternatives, but did it have to taste like that? Really? His guard is down as he’s grinning at you toothily, watching this scene play out, so you decide to bring up the question that’s been swimming in and out of your mind since the party, all those weeks ago, anxieties on the topic seeming to be lessening somewhat as you watch him… watch you, like this.   “Jongin?” He hums in response, eyes fixated on you, a gentleness residing in them that almost takes your breath away, because it reminds you that as much as the two of you quarrel and pick on the other, there’s such a gentle depth of love and understanding between you, also. He’d go to the ends of the earth for you, he really would. A beat passes, the eye contact uninterrupted as he reaches over, almost out of instinct, to brush the lock of hair that has fallen in front of your face away from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. Without words, your own eyes seem to translate the topic your words are about allude to. “Would it… change things if we did?” For a moment, he blinks at you, as if he’s hearing you wrong. “You know, if we, uh… had sex… with each other? As best friends who swore they’d never be involved like that at any point during their friendship or their lives.” He looks at you blankly, blinks at you blankly, then scoffs. “I never swore anything of the sort,” he announces. “To answer your question, maybe. Probably, in its ways. It might be hard to flip a switch and turn any newly awoken sexual attraction back to its strictly platonic counterpart, which means it may not end up as a one time thing, only. But who’s to know until we try?   You can at least be assured of the fact that I won’t make it some big spectacle like Sehun and his buddies would. You’d be free to explore all kinds of kinky shit with me and know that I’ll treat you like the wonderful human I know you to be, afterwards. There’ll be no change there.” You nod at this, finding yourself contemplating it deeper. “I don’t know if I can handle seeing that side of you, though,” you then whine, and he raises an eyebrow in amusement. Cute, he’d call you. But you’re serious here; you tease him all the time, you play pranks on one another, you’re used to goofing off around one another, and until you felt his lips against yours, sleeping with him had been the very last of your concerns with Jongin, the very last thought in your mind. But now…? “But I can’t stop thinking about how it’d be, you know? I’ve been at this weird crossroads since the party.” And it’s freaking you out. “Hot,” Jongin then supplies with a shrug, eyes still trained on you. You broke the eye contact several moments ago, worried about where else your thoughts would lead if you kept it up. Jongin doesn’t seem to be having the same problem, in fact, this seems to be amusing him further. Goading him on further. “Intense.” When you do turn your attention back to his features, there’s an emotion swirling in his irises that tells you he’s thought about this topic to a deeper depth than his current reply would suggest. And that intrigues you even further. At what point were you even vaguely sexy, suggestive or seductive around him? You’re always talking about other people when you do mention sexual situations and romantic prospects to him, so there’d truly never been this implication of a you and him thing until the party. He’s always the one flirting with you, too, so it definitely didn’t start there, either.   “Let’s test it,” he says. You raise an eyebrow at this, the sing-song tone his voice has adopted.  “Here?” You ask, snorting. He shrugs, eyes twinkling in a manner that seems to remind you that you’re the only two around. “You could touch yourself to the thought of me tonight and tell me how that goes, I’m sure that would work out fine, as well.” You snort. “Pass.”

“Not that we’re going to right now, but if I told you I wanted to fuck you in this classroom, and if we planned the timing of it precisely, we’d only have the tiniest risk of being caught and suspended for desecrating these pristine walls, do you think that’d be a thought that would haunt your mind for weeks to come, too?” You chew at your lip, because as ridiculous as the concept of it is, it’s also kind of hot. Kind of.

Seeming to ask for your approval with his next action with his eyes, you nod.

“I have an invite for you this time,” he says as he directs your hand closer and closer to his thigh, letting it rest there, an inch of a smirk playing on his lips. It’s like he’s willing you to squeeze it, or edge it dangerously close to another part of him. Test the waters, so to speak. See how that leaves you feeling as you do so. You gulp, contemplating just how blind you’ve been to his body this entire time. You knew he’d been working out religiously – he always had to mention it alongside his new concoction for any of his rancid health smoothies, you’d run your hands over his taut stomach muscles at the party, you’d witnessed him in short sleeved t-shirts, noticed that his arms were bigger than you last remembered, but why is it only hitting you now?  That physically, your best friend is hot. Personality-wise? Yeah, he might be the most insufferable person you’d ever known. …And that’s why. That’s exactly why. Because the appeal stops the minute he opens his mouth. “And what’s that?” You ask. “That you turn him down and spend the entire day and night with me. Let’s just see what happens, Y/N. No rush, no pressure.” But you only sigh to yourself at this. “You think he’d invite me to anything else he’s throwing after that disaster?”

“I think–” But he stops here, and you’re just about to ask what’s stopped him in his tracks when you hear his voice. “Y/N,” Sehun calls, from the doorway, beam on his face as his gaze hones in on you. Jongin stiffens, and not in the way he wants to stiffen right this moment. Brushing your hand off his thigh, so it appears this was just the innocent conversation between besties Sehun had hoped it would be, he shuffles his positioning so he’s sitting upright fully. “Sehun,” you cough out, voice a little strained. “I thought you’d be here.” He edges closer to the desk, eventually perching against it, his recently dyed locks looking as gorgeous and well conditioned as ever, those much too dreamy eyes staring deep into your soul. “Listen, I wanted to apologize for the situation at the party. I think we lost sight of each other, which was the last thing I wanted to happen.” “I’m sure you made good use of your time,” you say, a little tersely. You know for a fact that he did. He runs a nervous hand over the back of his neck, puffing out a breath, almost shaky in its nature. “I’m really sorry about that. I’d hoped we’d be able to spend some quality time together after seven minutes in heaven, truly.” You don’t have to turn your attention towards your best friend to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “But I hope you enjoyed yourself? I know you’re not used to these parties… it’s why I felt so bad when I couldn’t find you. All I could think about was you and your safety. How I could let myself be distracted simply because I couldn’t find you after the game ended. I’m really sorry about that.” You only shrug like it’s no big deal. “It’s okay,” you assure. “Jongin was around to protect me.” Even though Jongin’s smart ass mouth would be the reason you’d be involved in any altercation here, he’s more than likely referencing being taken advantage of by some random party-goer, which Jongin would protect you from, without a doubt. “Yeah,” Jongin butts in, as if he’s clearing his throat to remind Sehun he’s also in the room, that Jongin is around. “Jongin was around.” Sehun’s eyes flit to Jongin momentarily and he nods at him, almost as a thank you, but you notice the terseness of the movement, even if it’s very subtle. “Anyway, I, uh… maybe it’s a long shot but I have another invite for you. It’s not so much a party, more of a small get together. My parents own a… cabin–” There’s a nervous note to the way he says this, like he might be suggesting a sized-down version of the actual property, but has no other way of slotting it into the conversation as casually. “–By the mountains and there’d be no seven minutes in heaven this time. Just a few of us, sitting around, getting to know each other.”

And whilst you’re thinking, ‘ooh, new friends!’, “Orgy,” Jongin coughs out from beside you. You elbow him. You know you shouldn’t, but the expectant expression on Jongin’s features is the closest thing you’ve ever felt to peer pressure in your life, like he’s trying to telepathically communicate to you that there’s one crucial factor missing in this very invitation. Him. “I’d love to,” you say, and Jongin almost scoffs at the way your voice softens. “Would Jongin also be invited?” Sehun bristles a little, eyes searching yours as if to ask for a way to answer 'no, not really’ in the politest manner he can muster. “We’re a package deal Sehun,” Jongin then chirps up, smiling sweetly at the slightly younger, much blonder male. His words? Total bullshit. He’d been to a couple of these parties alone, and maybe it was because he had no idea you were on Sehun’s social radar, but he’d never asked for you to be invited alongside him. Not once. Less a package deal, more like conjoined twins at this rate, huh? God, even if you did end up getting somewhere sexually with Sehun, Jongin would probably be leaning against the frame of his bedroom door, critiquing his performance the entire time.   “Right, uh… of course you’re invited too, Jongin.” “We’ll be there,” he sings, chuckling as Sehun bids you goodbye and almost sulks out of the room. He mentions something about probable closure of the school, how the two of you shouldn’t wait around. “He’s threatened,” Jongin continues, in the same irritatingly chipper tone. “Knows that if you stay in here any longer with me, we’ll be backed up against the cabinet, your panties twirling around my finger as you whisper in my ear how you can’t remember what the separation of our bodies felt like.” And you hate that the way he phrases that, the note his voice takes on as he does, evokes the same feeling the syrup glazing the waffle you’ve been dreaming about scarfing down since you actually took the 'I promise I’ll eat healthier’ challenge upon yourself, would. Rather than reply to this, not trusting the severity of sass to your words this time, you send him a look that makes your disappointment of his forced invitation clear. “What?” He asks. “I love cabins.” “Sure you do.” “Anyway let’s ditch, there’s no one here and our favorite diner is still open, proving that there’s at least one establishment left that doesn’t panic at the first sight of snow.”

  And of course, things don’t go exactly as plan. They start great, the weather has been gradually worsening in the days between the invite and the party, but the drive to this far-off cabin Sehun’s parents own, it’s relatively smooth. It’s just accompanied by Jongin singing along to his awful playlist this time, which is fine, he has a nice voice; something about it seems to calm you in an instant, and along with that, some of the songs aren’t as objectively terrible as the song that came before it, but the image of your best friend muttering to himself, in all seriousness if he’s still allowed to enjoy Demi Lovato if he’s a Selena Gomez stan and they haven’t been friends for an x amount of years, before he shrugs his shoulders and continues belting out: “when your lips are on my lips then our hearts beat as one, but you slip out of my finger tips every time you run, oh, oh,” has you asking if you’re the eighteen year old female here.

Also the fact that his hand keeps inching the volume up, and up, and up, and replaying the song, over and over again the moment it ends is really grating on your nerves, and seeing as you’re the one controlling the car, it’s kind of an issue. “Isn’t Demi the better singer, though?” Jongin gasps, bristles the slightest amount, before he nods. “I’m loyal though,” he whines. “It’s complicated. She can’t know Demi’s on my playlist.” You tsk. “Not only that, on repeat!” You say, in faux horror. “God, I know,” Jongin murmurs. “What if I’ve been a secret Demi stan all along? I’m going to end up having an identity crisis at this rate, but I’ve been addicted to this song lately…” I know, you almost say, as you shake your head. You suppose that even if the designated driver is losing her sanity steadily, surely, Jongin’s happy. He’s enjoying himself. Just… could he do it with the volume a little lower, perhaps? “The day I first met you, you told me, you’d never fall in love,” he sings as he bops his head along with beat, and at this point you’re not sure if that indicates that the song has started or ended because she sings it at both points. It’s then that Jongin’s phone buzzes, and with a grumble Jongin turns the music off and puts whoever is calling on speaker. “Sehun,” he greets, muttering when you perk up at the mention of Sehun’s name. “You’re with Y/N, right?” “Yeah,” Jongin says. “We’re on our way to the cabin already, I was waiting for your call for like an hour, asshole.” Sehun’s chuckle sounds like magic even over the phone. “Sorry about that, I–” “Had an impromptu booty call?” “Jongin,” Sehun hisses, knowing he’s on speaker. “No! No, not at all. My parents needed help with something so I wanted to let you guys know I’ll be there about an hour late. The rest of the guys too, because they’re coming over with me.” You blink at this. “There’s only guys going?” “Told you what you were getting into, you didn’t listen,” Jongin mutters, lowering his voice. “Of all parties you need me at, this one’s it.” “Seyoung’s not coming?” You then ask, audible to Sehun. “Yeah, she’s doing something else.” Now unless he’d offer up his sister to his friends for an orgy, wouldn’t that put a chip in Jongin’s theory? “Also I wanted to let you know that the spare key is under the mat, and snacks are in the fridge. We’ll be using the jacuzzi, it’s way too cold for the pool. Drive safe and see you guys later.” But she’s conveniently not joining in on this one, and the jacuzzi thing… eh, it’s not looking that good, is it? “Bye,” Jongin and yourself say in unison.   Jongin shakes his head. “Why does everyone always put the spare key there? Now we’ll have to check for axe murderers.” “I just can’t believe it’s actually an orgy.” "Nah,“ Jongin then says. "Maybe he’d dare a couple of them to kiss you but he’d be the one who’d get to get down and dirty with you, that’s why he’s pissed I’m coming along too.” “Why, cause you’re going to be the one who’ll get down and dirty with me instead?” “Only if you’ll have me,” he sings, and this time, you swat his hand away before he can turn Give Your Heart A Break back on. “I’ll change the song, I promise,” he whines, pleading. And what do you know? Skyscraper. “Selena’s really threatened now,” you say, shrugging.

   When you’re comfortably situated in the cabin, Jongin having checked each room for axe murderers, telling you to stay behind him in case the two of you actually run into one, Sehun calls again, proceeding to tell you that he’s not going to be able to make it to the cabin – friends included – because in your time of being holed up there ignoring civilization, a snowstorm had started, and the forecast tells you it won’t be slowing for a while. Maybe the entire weekend. So not only can they not get to you, the two of you can’t get back. “You might end up snowed in for the weekend, god I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think this through.” “It’s fine,” Jongin says, tone a lot more chipper than it had been. “Thanks for letting us stay anyway.” And as he ends the call, Jongin turns to you, feigning sadness. “Just can’t get your alone time with lover boy, huh? Luckily the upgraded model is always around.” But you chuckle at this, shaking your head in the fondest of manners. “You’re such a dork.” And for the first couple of hours, the cabin-stay is entirely innocent, it’s just Jongin and yourself checking out the house, eating a couple of snacks, being your usual idiotic selves around the other. …Then Jongin wants to check out the jacuzzi, and somewhere between you agreeing to that, it turns into him helping you out of your clothes, hands holding your waist in place as he lifts your t-shirt up until it’s over your head, trailing those very hands down to the front of your jeans as he proceeds to unbutton them and help you step out of them, throwing both articles of clothing onto the floor. Which puts you ahead of schedule, because the jacuzzi isn’t even set up at the moment, and you’d also planned to make mojitos for the two of you to drink in the jacuzzi, noticing the fridge had the ingredients to do so. You explain this to Jongin, momentarily excusing yourself, clad only in your underwear, deciding the robe at the other end of the room should suffice.     “Nearly naked?” He perks up at this. “Can I help?” “Stay here and set up the jacuzzi,” you instruct, turning back to him before you leave the room with a, “panties stay on, by the way! If I come back and you’re naked in the jacuzzi I’m hiking home.” “Gotta warn you though, they’re thongs,” Jongin jokes.  

  Jongin’s certainly expecting things to turn sexual during your time in the jacuzzi, but besides a few very unplanned and vaguely suggestive glances here and there, it doesn’t. It’s a little while after that, as the sky continues to darken, when the mood changes. You only had one mojito each so it’s not like either of you are deeply under influence, this time.

Boredom, you think. It’s warm enough on the inside of the cabin for Jongin to have been parading around shirtless – and pantless – for the past hour, so you can’t blame it on you losing your mind and clarity from the cold.

Jongin smirks, because he knows what’s running through your mind right now, and this time, he refuses to make the first move. The two of you had chosen not to leave the room with the en-suite jacuzzi for whatever reason, which had puzzled you, because if you factor out the jacuzzi it’s otherwise the least exciting room in the cabin in terms of technology. There’s nothing but a nightstand, a bed, and these ancient looking curtains, so you’re left twiddling your thumbs from your place beside him on the bed, wondering if he’s feeling as bored as you are, currently, or if he’s been welcoming the silence. “Jongin?” You murmur, voice barely a whisper.   “Hm?” “I think we should try it,” you cough out. “And not just in a 'what if we did’ sense, this time.” “What are you saying to me?” He asks, choosing now of all times to play dumb, eyes coated with a particularly playful glimmer that hadn’t ended well any other time you’d been on the receiving end of it. “I think I want you to fuck me,” you say, noticing how he seems to be into the abrupt honesty by the way he perks up entirely at this. “Tonight. And not just hypothetically. For real this time.”   “Well, I know I want to, so I think I win on that front,” he murmurs, lulling you closer. Which you’re thankful for, because the transition between telling him you want to sleep with him and getting it started, it’s kind of alluding you at the moment. You think back to the party, during the kiss when he guided you onto his lap with his eyes and then said a breathy 'straddle me’ that replayed in your mind for weeks to come… You try make your intentions clear with your eyes before you ask a gentle: “can I?” “I’m all yours,” Jongin says as he helps you straddle him. He threads his fingers into yours, warm palms pressed against your own, not breaking eye contact even for a moment, depth of affection there hard to encapsulate with words. To be honest, you’re not sure if you’ve been looked at the way Jongin’s currently looking at you. “You’re sure you want to do this?” “I want to,” you say, even if the words sound a little shaky with nerves, you know that you do. You trust him more than anyone else, and evidently, you’re a lot more attracted to him than you realized. “I just want you know that regardless of whether this is the only time it happens, or it becomes an embedded part of our routine, my opinion of you won’t change.” You nod, shuffling a little in your positioning, watching as his eyelids flutter at the feeling of you brushing against him, the minuscule quirk of your lips as you do so. “How’d I know you’d be a tease?” He asks. You raise an eyebrow, demeanor still so lighthearted. “You think about this a lot or something?” Rather than reply to this, Jongin clears his throat, momentarily avoiding your eyes. “Why’d you even bother getting dressed again?” You know he’s hoping you’ll say something like: Oh, it was so I could undress for you, of course, in your most sultry of tones,  but you have to be honest here, that’s not at all why. “You might be immune to the cold, but I’m not–” You can almost see the disappointment coat the movement of his lips as he’s about to speak, but you cut him off. “And don’t say something cheesy like–” you lower your tone of voice, making the most exaggerated, gruff, masculine-leaning impression you can muster, “let me warm you up.” He plays it off with a quirk of his eyebrow but you both know that’s what he was about to respond with. Maybe in any other state, slightly less sober, slightly more horny, it wouldn’t bother you in the slightest, but right now, you know you’d end up giggling and killing the mood before it could even be set into motion. “Because that will just make me hop off your–” “Hop off my what?” “Your lap,” you say as you gulp, reminded of exactly which appendage you’re sitting on. “Wow, you’re so hard already.” Truthfully it’s just an observation. A few weeks ago, the thought of your best friend’s dick, the realization it could get hard for you, of all people, was a thought you’d never even taken into consideration. And so easily too? “I thought of all things, turning you on would be the, well, hardest part,” you chuckle.   “Can you not be my best friend right now?” He groans, his hand trailing from his side to your exposed stomach, mapping out the curvature of your waist. “The only necessary addition to any of that was the first one.” “Your lap?” You ask with a smirk. Flipping you over so you’re laying beneath him, which elicits a gasp from you, his eyes twinkle with a sort of lustful malice that has you wondering if this will be the first and last time you’ll be in this position with him. He repeats, “you’re so hard already,” in a much more breathy voice than the way you’d said it. You swear. It’s like unwrapping new pieces of knowledge from all the years of knowing him, the way his eyes would flutter closed as he’d let out a sigh of appreciation as he enjoyed a meal, how they’re now closing in pleasure at the feeling of you grinding against him, how he’d gently laced your fingers together on any other occasion, but is now gripping at your wrists as he lifts them over your head and pins them there. When he’s sure you’ll keep them there so his lips can make the journey south, he takes his hands off your wrists and trails a finger over your lip. Part of you wants to surprise him too, so you take the digit into your mouth, sucking on it, in a manner you hope is teasing.   It’s something you envisioned would turn Sehun on, somehow, so you hope it does something for Jongin, too. He raises an eyebrow that has you wondering just which sides of your best friend you don’t know all that much about, and surely want to find out about.

When his hands make the journey towards your body once more, they’re seeking out the clasp of your bra, unhooking it, gingerly enough that they don’t damage the material, especially as you’d opted for a very fine, almost see-through number. There’s enough fervor in his motion that the bra unhooks, not as expertly as you’re capable of, but enough that the material comes off unscathed.  You just know the touch of his hands is inciting a lust within you that you didn’t know you’d be capable of when around him, that the only thing you desire right now is even more of that touch.

“Can I?” He asks, looking slightly awed at your naked chest, as if he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. You nod, edging closer to him as his hands begin pursuit of your breasts, squeezing lightly. At first he’s very gentle, as if testing the waters, but when his fingers tease at the nipple of your right breast until the bud hardens underneath his fingertips, you letting out a soft whimper as he does so, he squeezes that much harder, smirking.

Edging towards the bud, he takes it into his mouth not a moment later. The gentle pecks he starts with eventually morph into suckles, the varying states of murmurs and moans you’re giving him have the hands he’s relocated to your waist gripping harder against it, likely leaving a mark in its wake. But right now, you don’t care.

A beat passes, Jongin moving over to the other breast to give it equal attention, and you, finally assured you’re really about to do this with him, pause, briefly sitting up, question in your eyes.  

“I got some just in case,” he says, as if reading your mind. “Don’t worry.”

Picking up where he left off for a couple more moments, before he trails a line of kisses further down your body as his hands accompany him on his journey; pressing his lips against your ribcage, further until he’s at the hem of your lace panties. “God, I want you so much,” and if a voice could feel like silk, that’s how his feels at this moment. He traces the panties with his finger, directing his fingers over your clit, brushing against it through the thin material, which has you edging closer to him, desperate for more friction. “But the last thing I want to do is rush this.”

“I don’t mind if we rush this,” you murmur, a slight whine to your tone.

“So impatient for me already,” he tsks. “That’s so cute.”

“Jongin–”

He interlocks his fingers in your own as he rests against your thigh, looking up at you from his place between your legs, smirking. “Hm?”

“Touch me already,” you pant.

“You want me to touch you, Y/N?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He nods, pleased with this. “I want to, too. But how should I go about this, hm?” Truth is you don’t really care how he starts, just that he does. Soon. But as his hands grip at your thighs, edging closer to your clothed core, edging two fingers into your panties and into the pool of wetness ready to meet him, he chuckles, the sound deep and hauntingly sinful. “Like this, with my fingers?”

You nod.

“Or would you prefer I fuck you with my tongue?”

He nibbles at his lip as you nod voraciously, pleading with your eyes for him to get on with it. “Have I ever told you how cute you look when you’re needy? Suppose I should warm you up first, though.”

You only moan in response as he hones in on your clit, rubbing a circular motion against it before his fingers edge into your slick folds and further until they tease at your entrance, and as he thrusts them into you, he’s delighted by how wet he already finds you, how happy you are to receive him. As he continues his ministrations, continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of you, you gasp into the feeling, begging for more, for him to remove the panties so there’s no material getting in the way of the melding of your bodies.

Wasting no time he tugs the panties off you, spreading your legs further apart as he edges closer to your glistening core, placing a chaste kiss against your clit, soft murmurs of how sweet you taste sending vibrations of pleasure straight through you. You can tell your moans are like music to his ears by the way he’s holding you against him so tightly, the little sighs of his own letting you know how much he’s enjoying giving you pleasure. “I could do this all night,” he continues against your clit. “Until you cum and cum again for me.”

The kisses turn into kitten licks, initially lapping away in a precise circular motion, drawing a series of murmurs and whines from your throat, gentle 'oh’s and 'oh my god’s spilling from your mouth before you even have time to process them, before he darts his tongue in between your folds, edging you closer and closer to an early release. Your hands thread through his hair, as if you’re capable of pulling him any closer and he smirks against you, eliciting a gasp which turns to a whimper when he decides that just his tongue won’t cut it any longer, thrusting two fingers into you, the slight curling motion he incorporates as he does so has your breathing shallowing, coming out in pants, Jongin continuing to fuck you with his tongue.

“More,” you whimper, knowing if he continues the way he is doing your release will be moments away; you tug at his soft locks, making him grunt in response. “Jongin, I need all of you.”

The tent in his boxers springs free as he discards of them and edges closer to you, spreading your legs even further apart, and with a smirk as you watch him roll the condom on, lust so apparent on your features, he asks, “ready?” Giving himself a few pumps, nibbling at his lip to hold back the groan, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure.

“Wait,” you say, shuffling your own positioning as you decide you want this very sight that much closer, be able to watch each and every expression he makes as he’s inside you, feel the warmth of his chest pressed directly against your own. “I want to ride you.”

As these words leave your lips, his eyes glaze over with a sheen of lust that makes it abundantly clear – if it wasn’t already – that he’s going to ravish you. “That sounded so hot coming from your lips,” he says, directing you over onto his lap so you can do just that.

He groans at the feeling of your hands gripping his cock as you direct it to the entrance of your pussy, slowly sliding down on it, steadily engulfing each inch with a tight, wet heat. Your mouth opens in a breathless moan at the full feeling he’s giving you, before you repeat the movement, throwing your head back at the wave of pleasure coursing through you.

“Fuck, it’s like you were made for me,” he groans, tightening his grip on your waist.

“Jongin,” you moan, eyes closing in pleasure as you bite at your lip, almost drawing blood, gripping onto his shoulders tightly. “You feel so good.”

“No, you feel so good,” he moans, watching your breasts bounce with the rhythm, as you take as much of him as you can manage, the slick sound of his cock entering your pussy reverberating around your ears, urging you to speed up your rhythm. “Fuck,” you say in unison.

Placing one hand under your chin as he directs your face closer to his, holding fluent eye contact, lips pulling up into a smirk at the fucked-out expression you wear. “Do you like that, Y/N?” His hands return to their previous position of roughly holding you in place as he begins to match your rhythm, thrusting his hips up into you, sending shock waves of pleasure through you. “Riding your best friend’s cock?"

You’ve both been a mess of moans and whimpers by this point, but the lustful tone of his voice as he says this, as you take as much of him as you can manage, the oddly illicit feeling of knowing that three hours ago it was Sehun you wanted in this exact scenario, but now as you feel more of him, take more of him, you can’t imagine it being anyone but Jongin.

"Yes,” it’s a breathless whimper. “Jongin, oh god, yes.”

“You like it so much more than you thought you would, hm, Y/N?”

“Yes,” less a whimper, more a scream by this point.

“How much more?"

"So much more."

His lips crash against yours at this moment, tongues locking into the other’s embrace with a much hungrier fervor than at the party, all those weeks ago. You continue to sink down onto his hardened length, your interlocked lips allowing him to swallow your gasps as you continue to bounce up and down on him, vision blurring from the intensity of the pleasure, almost in sync with the moans against your lips, and as you feel his grip tighten against your waist, his fingers almost digging into your flesh, holding you in place as he fucks his hips into you, deeply, making sure you feel all of him, you sense the inner turmoil at this moment, his sudden need to make it more romantic, gentle, versus the urge to take you harder, much harder, allow for a release of tension that’s built up between you these past few weeks. "It’s okay,” you moan between kisses, seeming to translate that that very urge has overtaken you, too.  “I want to, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck me like you’ve been wanting to since the party, Jongin."

With this, you wrap your legs around his waist as he re-positions the two of you so you’re laying down, directing his cock along your slick folds, edging in once more, watching your mouth part in pleasure as he does, but rather than let you catch your breath this time, build up to the previous intensity, he continues to rock his hips into you, deep moans emitting from his throat, hitting deeper and deeper until the only sound you’re making is unintelligible whimpers and moans of his name, begging him to keep filling you.

He’s happy to oblige; your head falls back into the pillow as the thrusts continue, trying your best to keep up with his rhythm, gasps and choruses of fuck, oh fuck, fuck yes filling the room. You’re not sure who’s saying what any more, just that it feels so damn good to have him inside you, holding your hips in place as he slams into you, catching your whimpers and near-screams as he lavishes you with hungry kisses. Against them, his lustful voice keeps whispering a chorus of, 'mm, that’s right’ and 'take it, baby’, ‘take my cock’, telling you how well you’re doing, how amazing you feel.

You can barely string together a coherent sentence at this point, too lost in the pleasure he’s giving you with the repetitious motion of his hips, caught in a heaven of his own making.

"Y/N, cum with me,” he then instructs, guiding you to your orgasm, not only with the movement of his body – his thrusts becoming a lot more sporadic and forceful at this point, but also with his words.

As your walls clench around him, his name is drawn from your lips like a mantra. You barely have chance to worry about the bruise he’s going to leave against your neck as his plush lips suckle and nibble against it, stifling his moans in the process. The sporadic thrusts continue for some time before he tenses and releases into the condom with a low, drawn out groan, lips parted in ecstasy. As the two of you ride out the high and come down from it, Jongin presses a gentle, loving kiss against your lips.

Later that night, as he teases you about your current inability to tease him, you murmur a soft, “shut up”, snuggling further into his embrace. “I didn’t know you’d make me feel like that.”

“And I have all night to make you feel that much better,” he sings. “Figure out all of your sweet spots.”

But you blink at this. “So you don’t think that will be the last time?”

He chuckles devilishly. “That was the warm up, Y/N.”

   Was it the first and last time it ever happened? No. It hadn’t been the only time it happened that night, much like Jongin implied. But to understand how that developed further, see how it went from the occasional thing driven by touch-starved hormones, to a repetitious series of events, brewing its sinister undertone of – let’s change our friendship – to – let’s completely ruin our friendship – over the course of a few months… you’d have to stay tuned, because it’s at this exact moment that the present day breaks you out of your reverie; the dismissal of the class being conducted by none other than Professor Lee, or as you, on a much closer basis, refer to as Taemin.

He runs a jittery hand through the same brown hair whose cotton-soft texture you could recall like the back of your hand, probably on his fourth cup of coffee, probably running low on his calorific intake, likely functioning on four hours of sleep. Very likely tired of hearing the incessant ringing and whining of his student’s voices and rejoicing at the dismissal of this particular seminar.

Seyoung, who seems to have decided early 2000s fashion needs to make a comeback and stat, smirks. She’s honestly worse about it than you, and lately, you know you’re getting a little bad at hiding the googly eyes every time they fall upon your professor.

"Professor Lee," she starts as she saunters over to his desk, twirling her hair around her finger, trying to subtlety push her chest out at him. And to be honest, you wouldn’t blame him for looking, she’s not exactly lacking in that department. However, he doesn’t, he just sighs in a very 'I’m too tired for this, and I’m actually starting to hate this job’-esque manner, as she proceeds to ask him the same question she’s been doing since he gave the latest assignment, which is to run it by her again. And again.

Which he does, every time she asks, not realizing she wants said explanation to happen one on one, privately, and preferably over lunch. He’s a genius but it took you four tries before he even noticed that you were hitting on him, all those months back. Before that he’d just pinned you as – and you quote – an enthusiastic student.  

"I’ve been over it five times now, Seyoung.” While he’s lifted his head to meet her eyes, they’re slightly squinted, like the light in the room is bothering him greatly. He also doesn’t sound as caffeinated as you assumed, the cranky element to his words a little hard to hide. Which would explain his next reply, something he’d normally hold his tongue on. “At this point, I think you’re just unwilling to put in the work.”

Seyoung balks, her grip on her books faltering slightly, she’s quick in her movement, making sure none cascade to the ground. You can tell by the affronted expression on her face that this was the last response she’d expected. She’s speechless.

You are too, actually. He never snaps like that. No matter how his students are behaving, he always seeks out the logical explanation, yes, but he also always makes a point to assume the best, and if it has to come to it, he’ll ensure that no feelings are hurt during tough conversations.  Right now he’s just… cranky.

Taemin chews on his plump lower lip, the regret visible instantly. "Seyoung…” He trails off, noticing the depth of sadness on her features, a pout she probably doesn’t even realize is there. “The only thing I ask is that you stop downplaying your intelligence in this class. You know that I’m willing to help you, you don’t have to force yourself to do poorly just to get my attention. The concepts are difficult, I understand that–”

“Difficult?” She repeats, incredulous. “They’re halfway impossible – at least lately! You try juggling everything I’m juggling and not slip even a little, Professor Lee. I’m not trying to look stupid, I’m genuinely lost.”

Is she? You can’t say.  

“Believe me, I have. And I understand completely, but you’ll thank me at the end of the semester and years into the future when this workload is like child’s play in comparison. If you need an extension I’ll grant you one, but I simply can’t sit here with you and run over everything for the nth time, Seyoung. At least for today. Friday at the earliest.”

“That’s three days away,” she mutters, but nods her head in something akin to understanding; don’t get her wrong, she’s not happy about it, but Friday is better than never, right? “Friday it is.”

Taemin glances up at this, meeting her gaze. He nods, and just before his eyes flit back down to the page in front of him, he says, “in lieu of someone genuinely struggling with my workload, you might want to help your brother, Seyoung.” Sehun isn’t majoring in Taemin’s subject like yourself, Seyoung and Jongin are, so you have no idea what goes down on that front, just that it causes a constant headache for Taemin.

You’ve not told Taemin about the Sehun-Jongin senior year ordeal yet either, it just feels too forced to bring up in general conversation, and it’s the last thing you’re thinking of when you’re wrapped up in his embrace… but it goes without saying that both Sehun and Jongin are his most problematic students, huh? In their respective ways, of course.

“Jongin’s already on that,” she mutters, a footfall away from exiting the room. “You think I want to spend any more time around either of them?”

Which has you chuckling, despite the circumstances. It’s a complicated matter. You’d been on talking terms back then, in the days of your mortal enemy being your best friend, now you’re on what you’d call 'nodding’ terms. Some odd impasse where you’ll take note of each other’s presence if you pass the other, but neither has really gone out of their way to smooth things over or talk it out. Mostly because there’s a stubborn part of you that thought she was smarter than to fall for Jongin’s manipulations, but you know it probably has everything to do with Sehun. She’s his twin sister and technically you wronged him too, though the whole thing had been orchestrated by Jongin himself, so the actual truth of the matter… she’s likely not all that privy to.

You don’t hold it against her, you just wish someone would be willing to hear you out here, let you explain what actually went down. You’re not going to lie and pretend you didn’t do idiotic things in the heat of the moment, that yes your reliance on Jongin likely did hurt Sehun, when things were looking like they were taking a turn for the better between the two of you, but he has no right to sit there and pretend he was head over heels for you when he was more-than-likely just looking for a regular booty call. One he could stamp his name on, said stamp being the instruction call for his cronies to back off, to find someone else to stick the appendages they use more than their brains, in.  

Jongin just – apparently – got there first, huh?  'Claimed’ you before Sehun had chance. Then got pissed that your time together didn’t erase the interest you had in Sehun. And in its ways, that’s understandable, but what he did next… the depth in which he betrayed your trust and plotted against you for his own prideful benefit, you can’t just talk that over. You can’t just make that right, regardless of your history.  

With Sehun, that’s at least possible.

Jongin… yeah, no. A snake may shed its skin, but it’s still going to remain a snake.

“Good work today, Y/F/N,” Professor Lee then says, when he’s sure everyone’s left the room, beckoning you over. You both know you can’t stay long today, but an innocent little chat never hurt anyone, now did it?

You perch on the desk in a way that drives him mildly crazy, skirt riding up that extra inch, a healthy amount of thigh on display, but of course it’s not intentional, so it’s not like you’re paying much attention to your current positioning or anything…

Taemin certainly is. “Y/N,” he groans, pen stilling mid syllable. “I can’t do this right now, I have so much to get through.”

“I know, I know,” you say, waving your hand at him. “My intentions are pure this time! I just want you to promise me that you’ll try get some sleep tonight, even if it means skipping our nightly phone call.”

With this he flicks his pen out of his hand, leans back against his chair and sighs. “I love wishing you goodnight, though.”

“Thing is, it’s only me that goes to sleep! You end up promising me you’ll sleep then getting up after an hour or two and taking your work outside of work and denying yourself the hours you’re so desperately needing – especially lately.”

His lips form into a pout that almost has your resolve faltering, but you’re worried about him, you know he wants to make a point that he’s deserving of this position to the faculty, but he already goes above and beyond. At what point would everyone accept that he was just an exceptional case, regardless of his much younger age in comparison to his coworkers?  

“No, you’re right,” he mutters. “But we don’t have to skip the call, I’ll just stay in bed these next few nights, hm?”

You nod, happy with this. His eyes lock onto your own a moment after this, as yours flicker down to his lips, willing yourself not to lean over and kiss him right now when the door is ajar and anyone could walk in. Instead you ask a poised and hopeful, “I’ll see you Saturday, right?”

He nods, but his eyes flit to the patch of your neck colored in his marking, and he chews on his lip, almost looking regretful.

Almost.  

“I’m sorry about that.” It’s bashful. Part of him is, but mostly? He’s at least a little proud of himself, momentarily reliving the memory of placing it there, relishing over the noises he elicited from your lips.  

“I’ll get you back,” you say, chuckling, then hop off the desk.  “Anyway Mr. Self important, I have to study before this assignment kills me, too. You’re relentless.” In more ways than one, but you’ll keep that your dirty little secret for as long as you can manage. No one but Taemin and yourself need to know about that.

And apparently your concealer isn’t as good at hiding the evidence as you’d assumed.

“Do me proud,” he sings, watching you as you walk out of the room, eyes only returning to his work the moment you’re out of sight.

   Sometimes you want to make the argument that no one should care all that much. Or be all that surprised that a man only a few years older than you and your peers might find himself caught up with a like-minded student who’s mature enough not to make a big deal out of it. All his life he’s been surrounded by people older than him, in his school life due to skipping ahead. In his work, his friends, the ex-girlfriend he’s mentioned in passing… she was older than him too.

But you know that you’re still his student, that there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed, a dynamic that shouldn’t be tampered with, in the way the two of you are tampering with it.

But the same thing could be said at the fact you’re in college now and your constructed high school image and 'reputation’ – which came into play thanks to your ex best friend’s relentless plotting – has followed you here, impacted your social life. Has had men trying to 'befriend’ you simply because they think you’re easy, a lot of the times skipping over that stage entirely as they proposition you out cold. It’s had women you’d otherwise get along with swimmingly, treat you like the gum at the bottom of their shoe, ensure there’s no space left for you to sit, whenever there’s a group project or event going on.

And as much as you’ve taken this in your stride, the only thing you’d ever hoped to be assured of was a peaceful education. Even your own roommate sends you the stink eye when she thinks you’re not looking, now. Just how much worse would that all become if they were to find out that you’re linked to your professor?

As you make your way into the library, you feel that sense of dread wash over you once more, seeing as the place is jam-packed with students, but there’s got to be an empty table somewhere, surely?

Not exactly. But close. You suppose the universe loves and hates you equal amounts because whilst every other table is full, Kim Jongin’s is not. It’s him, sitting entirely alone, his unmistakable golden-bronze skin, those deep, soulful eyes trained on you as you embark on a journey that is worse than a walk of shame, a smirk on his pillowy lips that you want to carve off his unfairly beautiful features, his hands having stilled in their ministrations, no longer typing away on his notebook.

“Save it,” you say, as you finally arrive at your destination, the seat opposite him. Because though you know he won’t be tearing his gaze away, at least you won’t have to sit beside him, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiate off his skin, remind yourself that the last thing you’re allowed to do now is snuggle into him.

The person might change – might show their true colors – but the memories don’t. And Jongin had been so deeply embedded into so many aspects of your life, that sometimes it’s been like learning how to walk all over again, find your way in the dark without him.

Maybe you’d just been cold, though. Maybe he was warm and it was only logical to seek that warmth, envelope yourself in his embrace.  Maybe.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

You also can’t hold your tongue when around him. He might be good at scaring others into submission with his wit but you’ll be damned if you sit there and let him bark at you.

“If the librarian wouldn’t kick me out I’d sit on the floor just to be away from you.”

He leans closer at this, a challenging smirk painting his lips, accompanying the lone eyebrow raise. “On your knees… it was always a favorite position of yours when around me, wasn’t it?”

If his horrible friends-slash-or-acquaintances were around you know they’d cough out, “and others”, or something of the sort, but thankfully Jongin doesn’t. You know why, you know he’s possessive as hell, so don’t think that’s a compliment. It’s just him highlighting the fact he wants to be the only one in your memory.

“It’s no fun if you don’t bite back,” he then says, though he makes no move to break the eye contact with you.

So you’re the one to do it. “I have nothing to say to you."

And just when you think you’ve been granted the silence you’re so desperately needing from him, he chirps up once more. “I know things aren’t great between us,” he continues, against everyone’s better judgement.

That’s a way to put it.

“But you don’t have to spend your every waking moment here. If you need help cramming, I’m a call away.”

“You say that like I still have your number saved or something.”

He chuckles, but it doesn’t sound the way it used to, bubbling with what was once infectious joy or well timed sarcasm, now it just seems like mockery. Venomous mockery. “You say that like you don’t have it memorised.”

Smart as he is, Jongin’s had always mentioned how knowledge can be haunting; how once he knows something, once he’s memorized something – and he memorizes things very easily – he can’t rid of what he’s found out. He’s not wrong here, because no, you still know his number, but is he hoping it’s haunting you the same way? That his number is just sitting there, dormant, in your contact list or in the back of your mind, a few taps away from being rung? Even though things really are far from great between the two of you, is this his way of telling you that even two years after the dissolution of your friendship, he hasn’t changed his number… that he’s just waiting for your call, and has been this entire time?

The thoughts must play out on your features because you watch how his expression softens, something akin to hope replacing his previous expression. Then you blink, and it’s gone. Replaced by his current self, the devious glimmer of malice in the eyes you remember once being so soft, so full of affection.

Ex-lovers know when there’s a new lover on the horizon, when someone else is taking up the mind space they once did. In his case, an ex-lover who isn’t even an ex-lover but the closest thing to it, who openly disdains of you but still gets mad when another is on your mind as opposed to them. You’re lucky his eagle eyes haven’t spotted the love bite, because you wouldn’t hear the end of it, of his stupid, possessively stupid jealousy. You know for a fact that he dislikes you as much as you dislike him these days, but that doesn’t change the fact that in his mind, he’s laid his claim on you. That he has a right to tell you his opinion on anyone else who comes into your romantic sphere, or even prospective romantic sphere.    

Jongin leans closer, peering at your face. “Hate to destroy your dreams and all, but Professor Lee is getting it in with someone for sure.”

You tense, and he thinks it’s out of jealousy, presumes so. Joke’s on him, really.

“I mean between the muffled female laughter and badly disguised moans I heard as I passed by his classroom yesterday, I’m sure he wasn’t grading papers.”

You do well at swallowing the nerves that bubble up your throat at his words. “I doubt he’d be that unprofessional, it was probably two idiotic students.”

Jongin rolls his eyes, eyes flickering over you, before they return to his notebook. “Denial’s one of the five stages I know, but even your heroes have their kinks.”

I know, you almost say.

“Should I find out who it is for you?”

“How about you just keep your mouth shut so I can focus on getting this done.”

He drums his fingers against the table, and despite yourself, you glance at them. He hasn’t been chipping at his nails like before, then? Good for him, you think, genuinely. It had always been a nervous habit of his, at least whatever version of him you’d known back then. When he notices your gaze he covers them with the ends of his shirt.

“Anyway, I can’t stay late this Friday, so if I, uh, invited you to my place–” His dorm, he means. “You’ll be there, right?”

For the project you’ve been paired together on. “Yeah.”  

   “Will you be there?” Sehun asks, two days later, seated across from Jongin at the table he and his buddies have lay claim to.

“I’d love to,” Jongin lies fluidly. “But I really need to dedicate this week to studying. Professor Lee keeps getting on my ass because of my ‘attitude’, and threatening to flunk me for totally biased reasons, and literally not because I’m performing badly in the classes. Then I have to work on the demonic project he assigned us.”

“With Y/N?”  

“With Y/N, yeah.” Jongin peers at Sehun closely, eyes narrowing the slightest amount. “Sehun,” he says, wincing.

“What?” Sehun exclaims. “How do you know what I’m going to say before I’ve even said it?!”

“It’s written all over your face,” Jongin mutters, hoping the grumpy note to his words is well-disguised.

“I get that she was stringing us both along but high school relationships are kinda juvenile as is, and lately… man, I don’t know, she’s just been so cute. I keep thinking about what could’ve been and–” He sighs into his jersey, burying his head into his hands.

Jongin’s eyes darken. “She hurt you real bad, though, no?”

“Yeah, but–”

“Sehun, seriously, she’s not worth it. There’s tons of other girls out there as it is, why waste time on one who has shown you she only has the capacity to hurt you?”

“I didn’t really hear her out back then though, Jongin. I think there’s more to our story than I’m letting myself believe.”

“Your story?” Jongin scoffs, then covers it with a faux-cough. He almost adds how Sehun had only really known you a few months, but holds his tongue, though it pains him to do so.

Seyoung, who’d had her earphones in for the majority of their conversation, puffs out an aggravated breath. No wonder she barely gets her work done when around these two, they never shut up. “What kind of A-grade idiots catch feelings for the same girl within months of the other? Isn’t there like a bro-code or something?”

There’s a bro-code, Jongin almost intercepts, but this idiot didn’t fucking follow it, now did he?  

“Correction: I never had feelings for her in the first place, best friends screw all the time and don’t catch feelings,” he emphasizes. “All the time. She just happened to be screwing Sehun alongside me – that’s what the issue was.”

“Like, don’t you talk about this shit?” Seyoung shakes her head before turning to her brother. “Anyway, Sehun, if you want to catch sight of her lately, she spends most of her time in Professor Lee’s classroom.” Both hear the frustration coating the words towards the end of her sentence, like she just can’t see to catch him alone no matter what time of day she makes her way to his classroom. If it’s not you who’s also there, there’ll be some other student, when it’s not a student, it’s a teacher. It’s endless.

Couldn’t a man breathe?  

Jongin comes to a halt at the words, wondering why you’d look so surprised at what he said the last time you’d spoken, if what Seyoung was saying was the case. He certainly wasn't being as discreet as he thought...

“How’s seducing him going, Seyoung?” Sehun asks between chortles.

“Trust me, it’s impossible. I’ve tried, most of us have tried, he’s way too professional.”

“And straight too, right?” Sehun seems to sigh in defeat, glancing at his meal in dismay. “I mean, same, but like, god do I need that grade.” He mutters something about how he should’ve taken Miss Liang’s class instead, that as cute as Professor Lee might be to everyone else, Miss Liang’s where it’s at.

Jongin shakes his head, deciding now would be a good time to share his findings with his 'friends’. “He’s been screwing one of the faculty for sure.”

Seyoung’s face falls instantly, her mouth falling open in an attempt to snap back at Jongin and his words, but she stops at the last moment, urging him to continue.

Sehun raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

“But onto more important matters here, I’m about to flunk his class and I get every answer right. He’s fucking impossible.”

“That’s so far from the important matter here, Jongin!” Seyoung exclaims. “Back to what you said before that.”

“I know I’m going to fail his class,” Sehun cuts in, sighing. “But I just can’t hate him, you know?”

“Well I sure can and I’m going to figure out which of his coworkers’ stale sex life he’s reviving, and hold it over his head so I can finally get the grade I damn well deserve. I have never failed a class in my life and I’m not going to start now just because pretty boy thinks I need to hold my tongue more often, as if he’s earned the respect of a true professor at his age?  He’s, what, twenty-five and skipped years of hard work, had this position handed to him, now suddenly can’t deal with a little bit of opposition? What a fucking joke.”

“Sounds like you have competition for the first time in your life and you’re not coping all that well with it,” Seyoung mutters, moments away from putting her headphones back on. Jongin was clearly talking nonsense because he wanted to one-up Professor Lee, and defaming his name was the only way how. Life was a lot better when she didn’t have to hear either Sehun or Jongin’s voices, if she were to be honest.

“I get that I must remind him of his high school bully or whatever, and he finally feels like he’s flipped the power dynamic by living vicariously through unjustly failing me or whatever. I get that it’s difficult graduating early and it's a pain in the ass, believe me, that’s why I stayed with you dumbasses besides my better judgement, but it’s no excuse to be failing your smartest fucking student. Personal biases must be dropped when you’re grading papers, that’s my rule.” Jongin only then notices the stunned expressions on Sehun and Seyoung’s features. “No offense, though.”

“None taken,” Sehun mutters, sipping at his black coffee, wishing he’d sweetened it up. He loved his sport to death, but some of the requirements of keeping in his tip-top shape were excruciating.

Seyoung bristles, however. “You know we put up with a lot from you because you’re gorgeous and super smart but I honestly can’t stand you, Jongin. Plus you suck at football.”

“You do suck at football, though,” Sehun murmurs between sips. “I only keep you around because you’re cute and having both you and I on the team attracts quite an audience.”

“I do not suck at football,” Jongin grumbles. “And even if I did, it’s just motivation to keep playing until I best your brother.”

“My twin,” Seyoung corrects. “Which is an entirely different thing. We mind meld, except I’m the one with enough balls to say what he’s actually thinking, and it’s that you’re a complete jackass.”

“We’re good now, Seyoung,” Sehun coughs out, elbowing her.

“He’s also said you’re really manipulative. Like really manipulative. That he notices every slight you direct his way, that he’s not half as stupid as you like to make him out to be, that he just has enough class to not respond to every thing you say about him or to him. Prick.”

“Seyoung–”

“Someone’s got to tell him,” Seyoung says levelly. “I’ve never met a nerd so into himself. And you know what? It won’t crack into that overly inflated ego in the slightest, I know that, but the truth is, I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last man on earth, Jongin. I mean that.”

“Right back at you,” he says to Seyoung, chuckling, though the sound is half-humored.

“I’m sure Y/N feels the same lately,” Seyoung continues, eyes narrowing.

The smile drops, and he glances away momentarily.

“Hit a nerve that time, huh?”

“It doesn’t mean a thing to me,” Jongin lies fluidly. “I’m out of here. Got better things to do.”

“But Y/N’s not on that list, is she?” Sehun calls as he’s leaving.

“And you’re not on hers anymore, either, Sehun.”

“Below the belt, Jongin!”

   Something propels Jongin towards Professor Lee’s classroom, deciding he’ll give this another crack, even if it means waiting for a classroom quickie to finish. He’s half hoping that Professor I Can Still Manage An Erection Unlike All The Old Dudes Here Lee will stop flexing on the older men and just be sitting at his desk for once, not in the midst of piping down whoever the hell it is he’s been piping down, once again.

But what do you know? He is. Jongin decides he’ll wait this time. He really needs to have this conversation with Professor Lee. In the meantime he'll just theorize who it is he's getting it in with.

It’s probably Miss Liang, the hot Mandarin teacher, in her early thirties. Might be Professor Kim, but she’s like fifty-eight, could be Professor Jeon, but if Professor Lee was into men, why would he be gunning for Prof. Jeon of all people? Though it would make sense that he’d only go as hard as he does against Jongin if he had a secret thing for him, right? Plus nine out of ten of his female students are trying to push their cleavage into his face every chance they get and he doesn’t even blink.

Jongin bristles for a second, if the dude was up for hate sex and wasn’t his professor, he’s sure they’d be able to work something out, but currently? Not a chance.

He’s so lost in his reverie he doesn’t hear the storeroom’s lock click, doesn’t hear the hushed giggle of a very familiar voice, until the door opens and a pair of very familiar legs come into view.

“You have got to be kidding me.” In his mind a sequence of: this is hell, this is hell, this must be hell, plays. He shakes his head, blinking several times as if to shake away the awful mirage, but you’re still there, standing in front of him in an outfit that’s ten times sexier than yesterday’s – not that he’s keeping track or anything – but he had been happily believing you’d been wearing such outfits to get back at him, show him everything he’d been missing out on these past two years.

And god if it hadn’t been working.

But if they’re actually for Professor fucking Lee? Disgust doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“Jongin?” You choke out nervously, wanting the ground to swallow you whole. “What are you doing here?”

As you stand there, you watch him blink, once, twice, then a third time. You watch a series of expressions play out on his face – disbelief, confusion, bewilderment, something akin to hurt but that clearly can’t be the case because he’s soulless…    

“Just when I thought you couldn’t sink any lower,” he grounds out, pushing past you and into the room so he can meet Professor Lee face to face. “Sucking your professor’s dick for an A? I think you mistook what they meant when they said this class was hard to take, Y/N.”

And despite the circumstances, despite the seriousness of the situation, you really do have to give it to him, his wit is unbeatable. Especially at the worst of times.

But your usual sass, your smart ass comebacks? Nowhere to be found. For the first time since he’s known you, you’re terrified.  “Jongin,” you start lowly, which just disgusts him further, because now you want to bargain, now you want to talk civilly, now you want to smooth over jagged edges?

When finds you post-coitus with your goddamn professor. “Get out of my way.”

“Jongin–” You try again.

“I mean it, Y/N. Move.”

Taemin’s just finished locking up the storeroom, and freezes. He can see from the expression on Jongin’s face that he knows what’s just taken place between the two of you. Jongin may be a genius but it doesn’t take one to piece it together, he knows that. He’d paired the two of you together for your current project mostly because of your ability to speak the same language as Jongin; rather than have him run hoops around you like he appears to do with the rest of the students, and you were the only one who seemed to know how to snap his smart mouth into shape too.  He’d done so despite noticing that Jongin’s manner with you hadn’t exactly been… the friendliest.

He’s kind of regretting so now, because he has no idea what his smartest but also his most problematic student is about to do with his newfound knowledge, and he knows he’d never forgive himself if you’re to suffer because of it.

“Professor Lee,” Jongin starts, and even Taemin stills at the authoritative tone Jongin adopts. “You’d think everyone’s favorite good-to-do professor would value his job to the point of not jeopardising its security, considering it’s frankly impossible to acquire at your age. Whatever manual you read from that told you building rapport with your students means taking their clothes off on the down low… it lied to you.  So, if you want what I just found out to stay within the confines of this room, you’ll do exactly as I say, you hear me?”

[moonlightjongin]

“When I Was Yours” Mini-Masterlist (ongoing)

✿ ━ Pairing  Kim Jongin x Reader (side Oh Sehun, side Lee Taemin) ✿ ━ Summary  Let’s say you have a history with Kim Jongin. A tumultuous, drama filled history that didn’t end on the best of notes. Let’s also say you’re in a predicament you never saw yourself in, à la sleeping with your college professor. Let’s say he finds out about it in the worst of ways and isn’t happy with his discovery… what happens next?

✿ ━ AUs College!AU, Professor!AU, Best-Friends-To-Enemies-To-Lovers!AU

✿ ━ Genre Romance/Smut

Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Ending