Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jeongin's life is hard enough, but he likes to live on the highest difficulty setting by keeping Seungmin around. For whatever reason. She's—well, she's a lot of things, but she's Jeongin's best friend-turned-girlfriend, and she's annoying in the worst way. She reads Jeongin too well. Understands what makes him tick, how to pluck the finest reactions from him.

Jeongin thinks she's the one person who sees right through him. He doesn't let his guard down easily, but Seungmin doesn't even give him a chance to. She never needed him to get comfortable before she started learning his brain inside out. She just knows.

He hates her, and he can say that because he really loves her more than he can fathom. They're like that. They have boundaries, sure, but she's one of the only people who ever dances near his. She doesn't treat him like he's fragile, doesn't worry about breaking him or scaring him.

She's perfect, really, and she's lounging on Jeongin's couch in an old t-shirt, bare legs tangled with his. He still doesn't really believe that he gets her to himself.

They meet eyes and she cackles. Here they go again.

"Sorry," she says, trying to push the smirk off her face. "It's just— it's different."

Jeongin's skin is thick enough—he's as blunt as she is, and he can take what he dishes out—but he rolls his eyes. "You're mad it makes me look hotter."

"Maybe in like, a year it would. You have to admit it's kinda silly."

"It's a work in progress," Jeongin defends, tracing the patchy fuzz on his upper lip.

Seungmin leans over, puts her weight on his lap. "I mean, it's cute how badly you wanna make it happen." She prods at his mustache with her index finger, checking where it still doesn't meet her standards.

Jeongin's hand finds its way to her hip on instinct, and he doesn't love how familiar this position is right now. Curse his hormones. And bless them. "Well, it's finally kinda working. Right? I thought it'd never happen. I was gonna be stuck with a baby face forever. Terrible for my prospects."

"A shitty mustache is worse than a baby face," she teases. "You look like— like one of those little dogs. The bald ones. Barely any hair."

"I do not," he rebukes. "It's manly as shit."

"Right." She rests her hands on his shoulders. "You're lucky I like you."

Her lips come down on his, though it's cut terribly short by Seungmin laughing at the tickle of his facial hair. It's been days and she's still not over it.

"Sorry," she repeats. "You're right, you're practically oozing testosterone. What if it infects me?" She feigns terror at the thought.

"You're so annoying," he mutters, leaning back in to connect their lips again.

"Noooo," she laughs, recoiling back out of it. "You're gonna spread your icky boy germs to me."

"Well, I don't want your girl germs either."

She puckers her lips at that, obnoxious as ever. He avoids the wet kiss she's trying to attack him with, only narrowly hitting his chin. She laughs again in spite of being expertly foiled. "I'm sure a big strong oppa like you doesn't have to worry about that."

Jeongin tenses when she says it. There's something about it, about being called it at all, but especially by Seungmin. He likes it so much that it loops back around to being too weird to indulge.

"What?" Seungmin croons, pressing her hands down on his chest, pushing him against the sofa cushions. "Was it something I said? Oppa?"

"Shut up," he rebukes, too weak to do anything but incriminate himself further.

"You're so gross." She sticks her tongue out, amused at her new discovery. "This is like, super cringe of you, I hope you know that."

"Is it really that bad?" he whines, though he already knows her answer.

"It's kinda skeevy," she shrugs. "Like your mustache."

"You're actually the worst."

"I don't mind, oppa."

He's throbbing in his jorts, and he thinks this is worse than the time he had an asthma attack while going down on her.

"Don't tease me this much," he sighs, running a hand along her thigh.

"Oh?" Seungmin bites her lip, widening her eyes in expectation. "What, am I turning you on? Does oppa want me to suck his dick?"

Jeongin huffs. She's doing everything in her power to make this terribly unsexy for him and it's not even working. "Yeah, whatever," he admits, and it sends an all-too-pleased grin to her face.

She unbuttons his shorts and slinks a hand into his boxers, tangling her fingers in his pubes before sliding them down to his dick. He's so embarrassingly hard that he wants to die, but letting her jerk him off might be a good enough alternative.

"Oppa's so hard," she says, and suddenly her voice is low and sultry and natural, giving him everything he wants just like that.

He whines, the feeling of her fingers against his cock too satisfying to come up with any response, neither witty nor sexy nor even pathetically horny. It's ridiculous how much he likes the name, a stupidly fulfilling marker.

Seungmin grinds her palm against him and Jeongin bucks his hips up on instinct, desperate to soothe that ache. He could cum from this, really, he thinks he'd prefer it. No need to occupy her mouth with anything other than words of reverence.

He opens his mouth to address her, and has to catch himself before noona slips out. The change is weird, and just Seungmin doesn't feel quite right on his tongue, but it's all he has. So, "Seungmin," he breathes, "faster."

"Anything for you, oppa," she obliges, fingers rubbing his length as fast as her wrist lets her go.

His breathing is unsteady, and he extends a shaky hand out to cup her jaw, coaxing her in for a kiss. Seungmin doesn't laugh this time, but she stifles a devious smile after it, and he snorts when he sees it. "I hate you."

She shakes her head in faux offense. "Are you just using me?"

He sighs, half-playful and half-satisfied. "As if I'd put up with you just for a handjob."

"Oppa is scum," she pouts, circling her finger around his tip. He doesn't get as wet as he used to, but he's dripping, probably soaking through his boxers. "Manipulating a sweet girl like me."

"There's nothing sweet about you," he scoffs. "Good girls don't have to brag about it."

Seungmin clears her throat and he watches the tips of her ears turn redder. "Good guys don't go around begging to be called oppa."

"I didn't beg—" Jeongin begins, but he's cut off by a moan as she pinches at his dick, that slight burn tipping over into pleasure. He's close, so close, he can feel that tingly anticipation forming and he needs it quicker so he shuts up and lets her jerk him off—he won't fumble his way into being denied his release.

He shakes when he cums, gripping her shoulder to ground himself as he gasps for breath.

Seungmin wordlessly pulls her fingers away and stares at them in contemplation. They're lightly pruned, slick with his excitement, and she presses them up to his lips. He obediently opens his mouth and sucks on them, even if he doesn't like the tang.

"What now, oppa?" She asks, lips curled in that tricky way that means she's plotting something. "I promised I'd suck you off, right?"

A thin trail of spit still connects her fingers to him even when she removes them. "You don't have to," he sighs, though his body's already getting excited again. He guesses she knows that by now. Once is never enough.

She leans back into his space again, bracketing him in. "You have a better idea?"

"Yeah." He clears his throat. It's hard not to feel embarrassed, but he braves it, forces it out. "A good oppa wouldn't make you do all the work, right?"

She seems to like that answer, draping her hands around his neck and getting comfortable. "Okay, baby." She creeps her hand upwards, threads it in his hair and tugs a little, brings her lips to his ear. "Then be a good oppa and spoil me?"

Jeongin hoists her up, and she makes a little yelp in surprise at suddenly being lifted, but wraps her legs around his waist. He plops her down unceremoniously when they get to the bedroom, punching out a cute groan as she hits the mattress.

"You sure you can handle this, Seungmin-ah?" he teases, grin spreading across his face as he grabs his packer out of his underwear drawer.

She tuts, "I'll be fine."

It's Jeongin's turn to crawl on top of her, crowding her space so he can get what he wants. Which, right now, means pushing her shirt up so he can play with her boobs. They're a modest size, but they're soft and round and Jeongin thinks they're perfect.

"Oppa," she whines. "Hurry up."

"Let me have my fun."

She sticks her tongue out at him, and for that Jeongin pulls her shirt up further so that it covers her face. Seungmin swats at him in response, and he hooks his fingers into her waistband without moving them. He can do this all day.

"I hate you. You've had enough fun."

He rids her of her shorts, though he's not above mimicking her by sticking his own tongue out in retort first. There's an outline in her boxers that suggests she's been secretly enjoying herself all along.

"You're this turned on?"

"Shut up." She rolls her eyes in despair, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Jeongin palms her through her underwear, humming in satisfaction as she begins to drip through it.

"Is this enough for you? Is oppa gonna make you cum before even getting inside you?"

Without waiting for a response, he pulls her boxers down too, and she lolls her head back with a moan. Seungmin kicks her clothes off fully, and he thumbs over her bare clit.

"Seungminnie likes it, right? Having oppa take care of her?"

"You're the one that's into it," she protests. "I'm just here for the ride."

Jeongin slides his hand down, prods around her hole. He slicks his palm up with lube, presses inside. Seungmin writhes, locking her legs around his, thrashing around him.

"Cute," he sighs. He thrusts his fingers in and out, stretches her deftly—Jeongin's never been great with his hands, but he's practiced at this, zeroing in on her pleasure. "Do you want oppa to fuck you or not?"

"Yes," she whines, seizing up as he presses down on her g-spot.

"Better admit it, then."

"Please, oppa," she pouts. "I want you to take care of me."

Jeongin's never been harder in his life. He grips the back of her thigh, hauls her into place as he lines himself up. She whimpers as it goes in, and he smirks.

"There we go. Not so hard, is it?"

He strokes her clit as he thrusts into her, wetting his fingers with her juices. It's messy, pooling down onto her thighs, and Jeongin loves the sight of it. She looks good like this, though he's sure the sticky feeling bothers her.

"Oppa," she gasps, placing a hand over his. "Please, I'm gonna cum."

"Already?" he taunts.

"Don't make fun of me, oh my god," Seungmin begs. "Please let me cum."

Jeongin didn't know she could ask permission. Maybe she's a good girl after all. He doesn't know if it's that line of reasoning or just the lust fogging his mind at hearing it that makes him say, "Go on then."

Seungmin shakes, pulsing beneath him as it wracks through her. She flops down after, spread limp on the sheets. "Fuck," she breathes.

Jeongin's still throbbing. "You still down to blow me?"

"You're so lame." She furrows her brow, but crawls over regardless.