Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Anomie: normlessness, a social condition characterized by a breakdown of moral values, standards, and norms. It can lead to feelings of disconnection, deviance, and social instability among individuals due to the lack of clear social or ethical guidelines.

Jeongin knew he was far from normal. He was probably centuries behind when the term normal even came into fruition. His behavior was barbaric, way off the course of socially acceptable, and downright sinful in the eyes of everyone—followers of the Lord and those who didn’t believe. If everyone knew how abnormal he was, they’d all carve the lasting impression of his existence right out of their minds and throw him out like spoiled milk.

 Jeongin couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have that at all. So, he put on a face that wasn’t his and lived in the world. He felt like a different person during the day; a fake persona that smiled at the cameras, joked with his group members, and teased his fans. That Jeongin was normal (or as normal as being an idol could be) and lived just perfectly with his mask of a face on. No one—not his family, the entire world, or even the whole of Stray Kids, members and staff alike, knew who the real Yang Jeongin was.

And they never would. He would never allow it.

Jeongin was only his real self when it was just him safely tucked away in his dorm shared with Chan. But not even Chan knew the extent of how abnormal Jeongin really was. Not his previous roommates or any of the faceless, nameless people Jeongin hooked up with once in a blue moon ever got to see the real him. His life was a lie, a ruse, and Jeongin was perfectly content to keep it that way. The truth of him was far too monstrous and dangerous to let out. It was much easier to keep it locked away in his chest and feed it the tiny morsels it needed to survive whenever he had the veiled chance.

Sweet, bubbly, and part-time savage was I.N, but the truth was that Jeongin was a borderline freak, a criminal worthy creep, and a psychotic pervert. A peeping Tom. Abnormal. Unashamedly so.

Jeongin truly couldn’t help himself. It’s who he was, always had been, and he certainly was never going to change. He didn’t want to. Being a pervert had allowed him to see and feel so many things that he never would have gotten to experience otherwise. Well, maybe some things he would have garnered on his own doing, but there was no thrill in that. The excitement that overcame him each time he did something so morally abusive and criminally invasive was better than any sort of quick fuck he’d manage in a dingy hotel room on the outskirts of Seoul. Jeongin never feared what he’d become. He only feared ever being found out and accidentally letting his true self shine through the carefully glued together pieces of his fake self.

It was so simple when he was a child to deflect any questioning of what he was. One would be surprised at how much one could get away with when they’re young and getting unnerving situations all chalked up to a child’s pure innocence. Children could do no wrong in the eyes of the world; the simple sweet things they were that didn’t know any better from right and wrong. Children had no moral obligations, no social constructs to hold up to, and were exempt from getting those strange looks from people who just didn’t understand.

Jeongin was like that. Perfect and cute little Jeongin who did all the abnormal things, things that were wrong to the world, but never looked at any differently. How could they look at him differently? He was an innocent little thing who still didn’t know anything about the world. But Jeongin did know. He did know the difference between right and wrong and yet he still chose wrong. Being naughty in the most devilish and sinful ways made him feel alive. The drab of being a dull church boy was not in the cards for him, and he smiled proudly up at the altar every Sunday mass knowing how much of a pervert he was. The only one who could judge and condemn his soul was himself. That’s what Jeongin believed.

What his perverted nature led Jeongin to do as a child was not of importance. It was nothing quite extreme, nothing to warrant any suspicion of his character, and certainly nothing to garner the attention of other parents worried over how this Yang Jeongin was behaving both in an out of school. Mild perversion was his childhood. Discrete and lame creeping about peeking into people’s windows sort of thing. Nothing inherently cruel or criminal. But Jeongin was a growing boy and therefore his perverseness had to evolve as well. His morality was a fickle thing, and Jeongin loved to push its boundaries.

It was so easy to let his mind and inner freak run wild, bat shit crazy even, when he joined the company of seven other boys around his age. Spending nearly every second of every day wrapped up in another was tricky, but living indefinitely with painfully attractive men was a pure strike of gold.

Jeongin knew to be sneaky about it. He already had years’ experience of hiding his perverse nature away in the presence of others. His carefully constructed exterior persona was easy to mask up in front of the members. There was no peeking at bare skin, nude bodies, or alluring forms as they changed together in backrooms for performances. There was no glancing at genitals as they showered together in short crunches of time during debut and even after.

But there was. Jeongin was a master at being subtle, at masking his creeper tendencies, that everyone would believe that to be true. But Jeongin was peeking. He was glancing. Constantly. Always. It was so easy for him to make all his watching seem perfectly natural, so subtle, that no one ever noticed he was watching. He had most of the members’ naked forms mapped in his head in separate little files, carefully constructed piece by piece with every glance and peek he executed. And Jeongin visited those files quite often. He never used them for anything—never re-sorted them into his spank bank file or conjured them up in full detail as he tried to get off. He just wanted to simply have the information. To look.

Jeongin looked all the time. It was just so easy to look. Pretending to be asleep and peeking from his comforter as his roommates changed was part of his morning and night routine. He couldn’t help his eyes from roving over exposed limbs, milky thighs, and cute little cocks. Jeongin knew every single one of his members bodies like the back of his hand. He’d never seen any of them hard (unfortunately), but a penis was a penis. Flaccid or not, Jeongin knew them all too well. He could pick each of them out in a lineup of photos with no distinguishing features if asked. But Jeongin would never be asked such a thing. No one even knew how well Jeongin knew their bodies.

It wasn’t uncommon either for Jeongin to be in the bathroom as someone else showered. No one ever locked the door, and it was by sure routine that had people filtering in and out to complete their morning rituals as someone washed themselves behind the fogged glass. Jeongin watched then too. As he was brushing his teeth, wetting his face, or using the toilet, Jeongin watched the wet form of his friends behind that damned fogged glass. It never allowed him to see much besides outlines and shadows, but it was still enough to get Jeongin feeling all satisfied with warmth in his belly.

Being a professional looker was helpful when in the presence of others, but alone, Jeongin could do anything he wanted. Let the vile animal clawing at his insides run free until his beast was satiated. He’s masturbated in everyone’s bed a good handful of times, fucked himself on a dildo on top of their sheets at least once, and ruined an excessive number of pillows by dragging his cock over them. Jeongin only did these things when everyone else was out, the once in a blue moon when separate schedules happened to overlap, and he was the only one left in the dorm.

He did it with precision—had everyone’s calendar for the day diligently marked in his phone and triple checked with everyone that they would for sure be gone for the correct amount of time. He did it with deliberation—brought towels to each of his sessions to make sure no mess was left behind, replaced things exactly how they’d been before, and even smoothed the sheets down before he departed. He did it with confidence—absolutely sure that no one would ever know or catch him in the act. He did it without shame—his mask fallen away and perversion on full display as he defiled anything he could as pride and desire swelled in his chest.

And Jeongin was so, so careful. Every time. He took all the precautions necessary in order to hide himself away and deter anyone from any suspicions tossed toward him. He was still that sweet little boy in his members’ eyes; a superficial cover for the twisted freak rooted deep to his insides.

But Jeongin did have rules for himself. They were rules that he was always to follow and never stray from. A set of norms for his perversion that he believed would always keep him safe from ever breaking free of the perfect mold he’d developed as I.N. He wasn’t stupid. Jeongin may be a clinically insane freak, but he was a careful one.

He was never to get so invested in someone that his creeping became an obsession. That would only lead to mistakes. He would never start taking and hoarding things to fulfill his perverted fantasies. Nothing would remain in his possession for longer than it was needed. That would only lead to suspicion. Everything must remain as he found it. There would be no tampering with his scenes of perverted crimes and no evidence stashed away in a box in his closet as mementos or ingrained in the screen of his laptop. That would only lead to a guilty sentence. He was never to become so comfortable in the presence of another that he could feel his carefully glued together exterior start chipping away. Remaining just distant enough to not fall in love while still having a close relationship was the furthest he could go. That would only lead to him slipping up and getting caught.

Jeongin has never broken any of these rules, and the second he ever felt like he might be teetering on the edge of doing so, he subtracts himself from the situation until it’s only a memory. But it’s hard to subtract himself from a found family, a band of brothers, and a career that gave him nearly everything he’s ever wanted. Breaking any of these rules now would only destroy him. The fake him and the real him. He must never do so.

Jeongin doesn’t understand why it was so easy to throw that all out the window with Chan.

The obsession started fairly early on. The thing with Chan was that it was just so easy for him to catch Jeongin’s attention. Admirable, selfless, and affectionate Chan that put everything and everyone above himself. His passion for the group and what they were accomplishing spilled right out of their leader. It was so much that Jeongin started pushing himself harder and harder not to better himself or the group, but to appease Chan and hear him tell Jeongin how proud he was of his progress. Jeongin never much cared for praise, he never had, but hearing it from Chan’s mouth with his sweet voice and genuine smile had Jeongin craving it like air. And if his bubbly personality or successful determination wasn’t enough, then his overbearing care surely was.

Chan was so doting on Jeongin, so careful and protective, and it somehow started chipping away at Jeongin’s necessary apathy until he started to feel for the first time. He felt so many unfamiliar and drowning things because of Chan that he was left gasping in the tumultuous waters of his morals that he found he could no longer tread as carefree as he had his whole life. Chan didn’t feel like an overprotective father or a good big brother to Jeongin. He felt like a devoted lover that did everything in his power to make sure Jeongin was happy in life. His hugs after long days, comforting words after performance mistakes, and playful banter to lighten moods felt like gentle aftercare.

Chan was the perfect man taking perfect care of ‘his little maknae’ like he just couldn’t live without him. Jeongin doesn’t think he could live without Chan either. Maybe that’s why he let himself get too invested. Obsessed.

Chan was attractive too. He had been since the very beginning. Though his personality itself was more than appealing, more than enough to hook Jeongin in, his physical appearance was an entire other force to reckon with. His delightful physique, fluffy hair, and warm eyes left more than just Stay swooning. Jeongin had soft spots for big noses and plump, full limps that looked absolutely delectable in a cute pout. Chan had those things and so much more.

It was clear how much he’d filled out over the years due to his hard work at the gym and carefully deciding what things to put in his body. It made Jeongin weak. So terribly weak. Every time Chan had any part of him exposed, Jeongin was unsuspectingly watching, mentally noting each pronounced vein and mouth-watering display of muscle. Even the tendons of his neck were something to watch for. Jeongin often found himself wishing he could bite right into them like a chew toy. Chan was just hot, and he made Jeongin so, so thirsty.

So thirsty in fact that Jeongin had to re-sort his mental file of Chan’s nude body. It wasn’t complete anymore, still the slim figure of the boy that debuted with inconsistent patches of what muscular physique Jeongin had caught. He hasn’t seen Chan completely naked since then. There were no more shared showers, and they had earned the right to a little more privacy when changing out of their costumes. Jeongin had to play with what he was dealt with—all his mental images probably needed an update—but Chan’s was the one he wanted most.

He needed it because that file was now sorted into his spank bank material. His investment in their leader wasn’t just surface level anymore. It was personal, and Jeongin couldn’t help himself from the desire coursing through him. Jacking off to the image of Chan was neither a chore nor something to pass the time. It was an obligation, a duty, that his messed-up morals dictated he followed, and Jeongin had no issues obeying.

Chan had the prettiest cock out of all of them. Jeongin would know. He has them all imprinted in his brain. It was long and thick, even flaccid, where it hung limply from delicately trimmed hair. Jeongin just knows he would split himself on that cock and longed to see it red and glistening with precum. He wanted to feel it over every inch of his body, stuffed down his throat and up his ass, and went a little stir crazy if he let his imagination run wild enough to picture what it would look like if Chan didn’t take neat care of his pubic hair. But it wasn’t just his cock; Jeongin would masturbate and come all over himself just thinking of his muscles straining against Jeongin’s body or his tongue licking into his ear. Chan was prime spank bank material that Jeongin used to the fullest extent. He was after all, his biggest subscriber.

Obsession.

It was a slow build of desire that stacked and stacked together that Jeongin desperately tried to keep steady in his core. But like all things that build too high up, the pressure at the base becomes too much and the whole thing topples over in mass destruction.

It was getting harder and harder to keep up his casual watching. The alluring pull he felt to just directly gawk and ogle at Chan was overwhelming, like Jeongin had burning coals in the pit of his stomach cooking up his insides each time they were in the same room. Nothing he could think to do, nothing he tried, ever washed those smoldering coals out. There was nothing left to do but submit. His only way to extinguish those flames was to feed them. And Jeongin feeds them.

Jeongin’s toppling happens in a distinct moment, and it’s the moment when he finally realizes that he truly has broken his first rule. A little obsession never hurt anyone, but this was borderline obsession. He hadn’t understood that that’s where he was until it happened—until he decided to start feeding those flames and twist his morals even further.

He was meant to hang out with Hyunjin, that’s why he was over at their dorm in the first place. Han and Changbin were out doing something that Jeongin didn’t really care about, and Hyunjin was sitting right next to him on the sofa, so it was only reasonable to deduce that it was Chan currently in the shower. Jeongin hadn’t seen him per se, but he knew exactly how long Chan stayed under the spray of water. He knew everyone’s shower routine—what products they used and the precise number of minutes the water stayed on from the moment it started to the moment it was shut off.

Because Jeongin was so obsessed, he ignored Hyunjin and the tv they were watching, opting to stare at his watch instead the moment he heard the water turn on. With just a minute to spare, Jeongin announces he needs to use the restroom and patiently stands in front of the door with his hand on the knob until the water tapers off. He waits a few seconds before abruptly opening the door and stepping inside.

Jeongin is a good actor; he’s been acting his entire life. He knows how to play the part of mortification and apologetic surprise when he sees Chan standing there completely naked and dripping water. The planes of his body are beautiful, delicately sculpted and littered with wet droplets. His hair plastered over his forehead and skin pink from the heat of the water takes Jeongin’s breath away.

But his cock is the real show stopper. Jeongin hasn’t seen it in person for a few years now, and he desperately wishes he could pause this program to stare at it for longer than a mere glance. It’s also a little pink from the warm water, dripping, and Jeongin is more than delighted to see how his pubic hair has garnered a little more oomph. It decorates his pubic bone a little fuller now, like Chan wasn’t taking care of it as neatly before, and Jeongin wants to snip the hairs off himself and keep them in a jar under his bed.

Chan doesn’t react right away, but once he notices Jeongin standing there with wide eyes and faux embarrassment in his face he’s quickly mirroring the expression and reaching for his towel a little faster. Jeongin, violently shaking from the sight and rapidly sorting his mental images into the correct files, slams the door closed with loud and sincere apologies. He doesn’t stop expressing his deepest regrets for ‘accidentally’ walking in on him until Chan (now dressed) opens the door to placate him. Chan isn’t mad, he’s not upset, he’s not anything. He tells Jeongin that it was just an accident and that it wasn’t that big of a deal. That Jeongin has seen him naked before and that he knows Jeongin would never intentionally walk in on him.

Oh, how wrong poor and innocent Chan could be. Jeongin may also be a pathological liar, but he’s always honest with himself. This incident was all premeditated, perhaps the only reason he’d been coming over to see Hyunjin so much, and only he would ever know that. Chan’s mental file reboots, reuploads, and updates itself right into Jeongin’s spank bank material all while the man himself is giving Jeongin a hug to assure him it was alright.

He jerks himself raw that night. Until his dick chafes and his orgasms turn painfully dry. Obsession.

It grows worse and festers like a nasty wound when they move into the same dorm together. Jeongin can’t escape Chan now. He’s always lurking around, spending even more time with just Jeongin, and is entirely too comfortable about it. Chan likes to wander the dorm shirtless, likes to come out of the bathroom with just a towel around his waist, likes to sit too close to Jeongin on the couch, and sometimes likes to rest his head on Jeongin’s shoulder as they watch a movie together. It isn’t anything abnormal—Chan does this with nearly all the members—but it feels different now that it’s just the two of them.

It fuels Jeongin’s obsessive flames. It makes them grow brighter and brighter, hotter and hotter, and forces Jeongin to do crazier and crazier things. He’s never gotten like this before. He was always content to just be a peeping Tom or do wildly sexual things on other people’s beds just to calm his perverted cravings. But Jeongin isn’t content anymore. The beast clawing at his chest is hungrier, angrier, more demanding, and doesn’t satisfy as easily as it used to.

Being a professional onlooker and occasionally fingering himself atop Chan’s sheets isn’t enough. It drives him insane to try and keep himself shut away in his glued exterior. Before it can start chipping and cracking, Jeongin turns to drastic measures.

Crazier and crazier things start out with Jeongin waiting to brush his teeth until after he knows Chan has already done it. He knows because Chan’s toothbrush will be slightly wet where it sits in the little cup, and every morning Jeongin takes a picture of how it sits there so that he can put it back exactly as it was. It’s too easy to wet his own toothbrush to make it look like it was used. It’s too easy to lock the bathroom door and pretend like he’s taking a shit when in reality he’s brushing his teeth with Chan’s freshly used toothbrush.

It’s disgustingly erotic to be doing something like that. He's delusional enough to believe that he can feel each one of Chan’s mouth germs and tooth-residing bacteria on his tongue and making camp over his own teeth. Jeongin wants them to live there. He wants to run his tongue over his teeth and just know that a part of Chan is sitting there. Chan would probably kick him out if he ever found out. But Chan would never know. Jeongin is careful. Always careful. That’s why he locks the door and takes a picture of how his toothbrush was left sitting in the cup.

It progresses into something much worse. Something that Jeongin can’t believe he would ever do but also pouts that he hasn’t thought of something like this before. It never even crossed his mind until he went in to take a shit right after Chan apparently had and felt how warm the toilet seat still was. He doesn’t know how it worms itself into his brain or why it makes his perverted insides sing in desperate want. All he knows is that he’s suddenly on his knees in front of the toilet and licking the lid of the seat with half-lidded eyes.

It becomes too much of a routine after that. It’s easy to let slip in because Chan likes to announce when he’s going to take a shit, and Jeongin can always smell the spritz of some flowery scent in the bathroom when he goes in right after him. But Jeongin doesn’t care about the smell. He cares about licking the toilet seat like it’s an ice cream cone and softly moaning at the thighs and ass that were just sitting there. It’s vile, arousingly so, and Jeongin doesn’t own an ounce of him that cares. If he did, then he’d probably sell that piece of him off to someone who needs a fuck to give. Jeongin doesn’t have any of those. There was simply no need.

But Jeongin was getting restless. The mental image of Chan’s naked form and putting his tongue all over things that Chan has touched wasn’t calming his perverted beast. Sneaking into his room and licking all of his opened chapsticks didn’t even do anything for him anymore either. He can’t simply keep walking in on Chan just getting out of the shower and chalk all of it up to accidental mistakes. That sort of behavior would be too suspicious, and then maybe Chan would start locking the door. Jeongin can’t have that. He absolutely can’t.

Jeongin needs to articulate how he’s broken a few more rules until he admits to the worst thing he’s ever done though.

The taking and hoarding started the first week of them living together. Jeongin knew he was already terribly obsessed, dangerously obsessed for the better part of a year, but he never thought he’d ever breach into breaking his second rule. He’d been able to tame his beast and keep it under strict control for twenty-three years; he could remain doing so.

Except he couldn’t. Jeongin couldn’t placate his perversions. Obsession leads to dangerous and reckless behavior—mistakes. Jeongin never made these sorts of mistakes, but allowing himself to become this invested in Chan, allowing himself to break his first rule, was a mistake. The biggest he’s ever made. Jeongin was already too far in though. It couldn’t hurt to push his own boundaries just a little more.

He hadn’t meant to start hoarding Chan’s things. That wasn’t his initial thought or intention. But just like a dragon keeping close claim over their treasure, Jeongin couldn’t help himself. It was easy to let all of the things pile up in overflowing stashes discretely and safely tucked away in his own bedroom. Jeongin was the dragon. His room was his den and Chan’s stolen belongings were his hoarded treasure that he guarded with fiery breath and sharp teeth. No one must ever know.

Jeongin owned so many shoes. So, so many that Chan often begged him to stop buying more. Boxes of them were stacked neatly in the back of his closet, but the bottommost boxes didn’t contain wacky sneakers or designer boots. They held far worse things.

Chan liked to replace his toothbrushes every month, the clean freak he was. If only he knew how truly dirty those toothbrushes were. Jeongin had a small collection of the ones he’d already thrown out in the back of his closet. Paired delightfully with those in what he calls his ‘bathroom box’ is one of Chan’s old razors and about a dozen strings of used floss. Jeongin liked to dig through the trash in the bathroom and pull these things out, though he isn’t sure why he needs or wants them. He doesn’t do anything with any of them. They just sit there in his ‘bathroom box’ for an occasional viewing when Jeongin’s insides feel particularly hungry.

His greater treasures were hidden beneath his bed in plain sight. Jeongin had several thin, long storage tubs tucked under his bed filled with an assortment of things that he simply hadn’t any space for—extra blankets, excess of clothes, thick and thin books of piano scores he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of. Amongst those insignificant things was a tub filled with something much more significant. They used to hide shoved under all his clothes in his dresser or stuffed under his mattress, but Jeongin kept taking and taking to the point where he needed somewhere else to store it all.

Clothes. Chan’s clothes. Chan’s dirty clothes to be exact. He hadn’t meant to take them, not even a single article, but Jeongin was greedy. Greedy, obsessed, and harboring fickle morality. It was only a matter of time.

The tub wasn’t stuffed full by any means, half-full to be exact, and a key part of Jeongin’s nightly perverted fantasies. Chan was gone so often holed up in his studio working on various things that Jeongin had free reign, roam, and claim of their dorm for far longer than should be allowed of him. It makes it too easy for him to sneak into Chan’s room and dig through his dirty laundry. He doesn’t always take something, sometimes opting to just get off on the smell of dirty underwear and socks before dropping them back in the basket. But sometimes that smell taunts him, possesses him into clutching the material between his fingers and stashing it in his room.

It's mostly underwear and socks in his storage tub beneath the bed. There’s a few sweaty shorts and tanks from post-workout Chan that Jeongin absolutely cherishes because of the pungent scent of sweat and body odor. He likes to lay in bed at night and sniff them all, shove them in his mouth, and use them as a means to stroke his cock. His cum is on every piece of clothing he’s stolen, white crusted streaks that will remain there until the end of time. Jeongin doesn’t plan on cleaning any of them, throwing them out, or ever returning them. They’re his clothes now. His little cum rags. It’s just a coincidence that they smell and belong to Chan. They smell a little like Jeongin now too. He’s come all over them more than once. What’s a treasure to a dragon if it isn’t loved?

His most prized possession, however, is much weirder than anything else Jeongin has ever done or collected. Weirder than his ‘bathroom box’, than his stash of dirty, cum-covered laundry, than premediating walking in on someone naked, and weirder than licking a nasty toilet seat. He has a jar for them just like he said he would, but it’s not hidden under his bed. It’s stuffed inside one of his wide-ankle boots shoved in the back of his closet. He doesn’t wear them anymore anyway. It’s the perfect spot for what’s hidden away.

Jeongin nearly busted what would have been the most pleasurable nut of his life the moment he found one on the tile of the bathroom floor. He did end up busting one much later that night as he stared at it in his newly acquired jar, but that isn’t important at the moment. He knew it belonged to Chan; Jeongin was perfectly clean shaven, and he knew the only other person in the dorm liked to keep his groin a little hairy. Sometimes a lot hairy. Jeongin was about to put the coarse hair right on his tongue and swallow it up with a shudder before he thought better of it. Displaying it in a jar was a far more sane thing to do. Then he could look at it whenever he pleased and brush over it with his finger like it was his little pet.

Jeongin really did have a little pet now. Ever since he by chance came across the single pubic hair on the bathroom tile, he was meticulous about checking for more to add to his little pube jar. That’s what he was calling it; either that or his emotional support pubes. His little pube jar was half-full now with a mass of coarse hairs that he plucked from various surfaces in the bathroom: the floor, the toilet seat, the bathtub. Sometimes Jeongin stared at them. Sometimes he smelled them. Sometimes he poked his tongue into the jar and licked them just to pick them back off lest they get stuck down his throat. Other times Jeongin did pet the little mass with his fingers and pretended like it was purring as if it were a tiny kitten.

Jeongin’s little pube jar was his most prized possession (well, besides his laptop), and no one must ever know about its existence. He’d probably get locked in a padded room or permanently sedated if it were ever to be discovered. Jeongin would never let that happen. He was a meticulous monster even if his actions were becoming more dangerous and daring.

Suspicion is hard to deal with. It’s why Jeongin had his rule of not hoarding set in place from the very beginning of discovering what kind of sickening greed he had to deal with. Deflection, nonchalance, and gaslighting were his friends. Jeongin was still a very good actor; he had twenty-three years of practice and execution, and he never tired of playing the part. It was a part of the thrill of being his nasty self and one of the main reasons why being the sweet baby bread I.N worked out so well.

But dealing with people suspicious of things was a little tricky. Placating their worries, fears, and allegations became a webbed mess more often than not. Jeongin, being the pathological liar and manipulative freak he was, had little issue in navigating these muddy waters. It was keeping up with it that tired him to no end and made his glued pieces threaten to pop right out. Irritation and anger were harder for him to keep down.

Chan began asking about his missing laundry a few weeks after Jeongin began stealing it. He often only mentioned it in passing, commenting that he thought he was losing his socks because he had an odd number of pairs now, lamenting that he’d misplaced his favorite pair of silk underwear, or getting confused when he couldn’t find his usual workout shirt. Jeongin probably shouldn’t have taken such daring items. Of course, Chan would notice when things he usually wore suddenly disappeared.

Jeongin was very calm and nonchalant in his responses. Chan wasn’t accusing him or anything; he wasn’t accusing anyone of anything, but Jeongin thought that responding would put him off his scent more. He said casual things like “maybe you just put them in a different spot”, “maybe it’s there and you just didn’t see it”, “maybe they got swallowed up by the laundry machine monster. That’s a real thing you know”, and “I have no idea what happened to them Hyung”. Jeongin very well knew what happened to them. They were stashed under his bed and covered in his cum. Chan didn’t need to know that though.

Chan was very adamant about finding them all once. He tore apart his entire room in search of them and got so frustrated when he couldn’t find them that he begged Jeongin to do the same thing. “Maybe they got mixed up with your laundry, and you just didn’t realize. Can we look, please?” he’d said with his stupidly beautiful pout. Jeongin couldn’t say no. That would be even more suspicious. But Jeongin was methodical. He made Chan stand in the middle of his room as Jeongin took out every article of clothing in both his dresser and closet revealing no missing clothing.

Jeongin was so methodical (and very acutely terrified that Chan was going to tear his room apart the second he was gone and find several incriminating things) that he went out and bought replacements of everything he’d stolen. Perfectly new replicas that he strategically staged in unsuspecting areas. He counted out the correct number of socks and scattered them in the laundry room. One day he proclaimed that he’d found a sock tucked in the back corner and then Chan was tearing that room apart and found the remaining ones under or behind the dryer. He seemed confused as to how they got there but relieved that he hadn’t gone crazy. Jeongin was all too happy to blame the laundry machine monster.

His boring underwear that Chan hadn’t even mentioned were gone were folded just like the others and tucked back into his dresser just in case. The favorite silky (and rather expensive) pair he was fretting over was a little tricky to decide where to stage. Ultimately he went with a simple kick them under Chan’s dresser technique which seemed to work quite well in conjunction with the sock thing because then Chan was checking under every piece of furniture just in case. Jeongin realizes that his deception may be a little cruel and have Chan thinking of himself as a dense idiot, but he has to do what he must.

As for Chan’s usual workout shirt, well, that was easy. Jeongin had no issue slipping into Changbin’s room while him and Hyunjin were out and stuffing it in Changbin’s gym bag. Eventually he’d notice it there, realize it isn’t his, and make it back to Chan. That takes a few weeks to actually happen, and Jeongin hopes that by that time the shirt smells just as bad as the original one under his bed does to diffuse any suspicion of foul play. Chan only comments on how it was strange that Changbin ended up with it because he doesn’t remember if he’d been with him the last time he wore it or not. It never gets brought up again, and Jeongin is in the clear.

Deflection, nonchalance, and gaslighting. Best friends.

Jeongin doesn’t think he’ll have to deal with more suspicion any time soon. He doubts that Chan is ever going to lament about his missing pubes. He probably doesn’t even know that he leaves them behind in the bathroom.

Treating every one of his perverted crime scenes as if they were true crime scenes themselves is a must. Jeongin should leave no trace of himself, no trace of any disturbance at all, and he always manages. Towels are his other best friend. They get laid neatly over Chan’s bed as he fingers himself open, stuffs himself with silicone, or furiously jerks himself off. Not a drop of fluids—cum, drool, or lube ever grace Chan’s bed.

The only exception is the pillow he so often likes to ride. He’d stained the fuck out of it once when he came all over the place unexpectedly. Jeongin hadn’t meant to break this half of the rule. It was one too many that would only lead to far dangerous territory that he surely couldn’t get himself out of. A true accident. A mistake that he was foolish enough to make because his resolve was slipping. He’s so lucky that Chan believes mostly everything he says and that he has years of skilled experience in the art of being insane to save himself.

When Chan comes home later and asks why his pillow case is missing, Jeongin is quick to shyly confess that he’d taken a nap in Chan’s bed because he missed his hyung and accidentally drooled all over it so now it was in the wash. Chan buys the excuse immediately. Jeongin knew he would. All he does is chuckle to himself and call Jeongin ‘cute’.

The other time isn’t necessarily his fault.

Sure, he’d spent countless days mapping every inch of Chan’s room, searching through every single one of his drawers, and digging through his closet just so he knew the contents of all his belongings and where everything was. Yes, it was his fault that he stumbled across Chan’s stash of sex toys—mostly varying sizes and girths of dildos—and yes, it’s his fault that he decided to use one of them. He’d stuffed the pink silicone down his throat just for good measure at first even though he knew that Chan most likely meticulously cleaned every single one of them after they were used. Then he’d prepped himself on top of his towel on Chan’s bed and proceeded to fuck the shit out of his ass with it.

What’s not his fault is Chan coming home early. Way earlier than he said he was supposed to. Jeongin was under the impression that he’d have hours of alone time, but he hasn’t even come yet when he hears the front door open as he’s bouncing furiously on silicone. The moan that was about to leave him gets choked off in his throat when Jeongin stills his hips. Because Jeongin is a professional creep, a certified psycho and clinically insane, he doesn’t panic. He’s planned for events like these before, though they had yet to happen. He knows exactly what to do, gets into his proper headspace, and plays the part.

He stuffs the dildo in him all the way to the hilt before awkwardly pulling his underwear and sweats back on. He hasn’t left the box of sex toys out in the open—Jeongin isn’t stupid—they’re tucked away in their usual hiding spot. The only thing out of place is him and the bottle of lube on the bedside table. Jeongin pockets that before climbing back into the bed and settling himself under the sheets with his dirty towel bunched up beneath his shirt.

Though it’s severely uncomfortable and pressing incessantly against his prostrate, Jeongin had no other choice but to keep the dildo stuffed inside him. It was inconspicuous, and Chan would have a hard time noticing it if he believed the lie that Jeongin really was sleeping. Everyone believes the lie when Jeongin pretends to be asleep. He’d done it so often—on the literal daily—when spying on his roommates changing, so it was no surprise that when Chan walks into his room there’s no reaction from him. Jeongin listens to him rummaging around a bit before he feels the warmth of a hand hovering over his face.

“Cute,” Chan whispers, then he’s touching Jeongin’s forehead to brush the hair from his face and softly calling his name.

Jeongin rouses from his fake sleep in much the same way he would from real sleep. He blinks his eyes slowly open with a sigh, smacking his lips briefly and stretching his body out as much as the dildo will allow him to. “Ah, sorry Hyung,” he apologizes sheepishly, “I fell asleep again. I thought you’d be out later.” The fake yawn he gives really seals the deal.

Chan shakes his head at him. “It’s okay Innie-yah. It’s my fault for always being gone for so long. But I decided to finish up early and cook supper tonight! I was about to get started, just wanted to let you know in case you wanted to help.”

Jeongin stretches a little more with a small smile that wobbles a bit when the position of his hips shifts the dildo around to a particular good spot. “I would love to help. You go get started though. I need to wash up first.”

It’s such an easy lie, such an easy game to play, and Chan is all but helpless to fall into Jeongin’s trap every time. Jeongin feels deep satisfaction when he leaves him there unsuspecting. Such easy prey. Perhaps that was why Jeongin was growing so sloppy and breaking his own rules. He takes the dildo with him to his room so that he may properly clean it and return it at his earliest convenience with the hope that Chan isn’t feeling feisty later.

While Jeongin may have truly by accident broken half of his third rule, the other half was broken the second he started hoarding things he shouldn’t have in his possession. He did have evidence stashed away in his room and the evidence is damning.

Tucked away in a slim tub under his bed in order to preserve the scent of Chan mixed with his spilt cum is dozens of articles of stolen clothing. The ‘bathroom box’ hidden amongst his millions of pairs of outrageous shoes. His little pube jar carefully placed in a spot that no one but him would go looking. That evidence is damning enough. Guilty as charged! But it doesn’t compare to what he holds in his phone.

There was a day early on in their time of sharing a dorm together that Jeongin received a phone call from one of the manager hyungs. Except it was Chan on the other end telling Jeongin that he’d left his phone on the kitchen table and was wondering if Jeongin could bring it to him whenever he had the chance because he was too busy to make the trek himself. Jeongin, of course, agreed to such a task. He would have done that for any of the members.

Unsupervised and unlimited access to Chan’s personal cell phone was dangerous, thrilling, and about the best possible scenario for someone like Jeongin. He had the entire day free, but that didn’t mean he was going to drop Chan’s phone off right away. No, Jeongin had some snooping to do. Recon if you will. Important research even to complete with this newfound discovery.

All of the members knew each other’s phone passwords, but Jeongin never had access like this. Chan wasn’t sitting right next to him and able to see every little thing Jeongin was doing on his phone. He was completely alone with this holy grail. So unwise in the hands of a professional pervert.

It doesn’t take long for Jeongin to find what he was looking for, what he was hoping to find hidden away in the albums of his camera roll. Chan may think he’d hidden them discreetly, but Jeongin knows every sly trick in every book. His career wasn’t being an idol and I.N of Stray Kids; it was being the trickiest creep out there. Slipped between the photos of Chan’s album labeled ‘Gym’ are dozens of lewd pictures, stunning nudes that Jeongin didn’t even know Chan was capable of taking.

He swipes through every single one more than once biting at his thumbnail and trembling amidst the couch cushions he’d snuggled into. Several of them are just mirror pictures of Chan stark naked with his erection in his hand—his rather large erection. His mouth begins to water when he sees the close-up shots of just his dick. It’s flushed a deep red, head shining with precum, thick vein running up the shaft, and protruding from a bed of dark curls that contrast so heavily with the milky white of his big thighs. There’s a few of his asshole, puffy and slick with lube on display to the mirror the photos are taken in. Some shots have fingers stuffed in there, others with the dildo Jeongin had used stretching him open, and a few with nothing at all.

Jeongin isn’t quite sure how he managed to take them or if he was sending them to anyone, but he jerks off to them about three separate times before airdropping them to his phone and innocently delivering the now useless device to Chan. He’ll add them to his file on his laptop later.

If the evidence hidden away in his room was lightwork and the evidence now saved in his phone was bad, then the evidence that Jeongin had on that file in his laptop was criminal. Both figuratively and literally. Jeongin knows he would be thrown in prison and shunned from the entire world if a single soul other than himself knew what was on that file. It was so invasive, much more invasive than stealing nudes off Chan’s phone, and downright illegal. If Chan ever found out, then he would surely murder Jeongin quite violently. If Chan didn’t do it himself, then his damn cellmate would.

It was a level of perversion that Jeongin never thought he’d be capable of. One he never thought he’d reach even if he were a professional. At this point, Jeongin didn’t just have a twisted moral compass and pathologically insane soul. He had his own specialized moral theory and a black void in the center of his chest. Reminding himself that he is the only one who can judge and condemn his black void of a soul is how he manages to do the worst thing he has ever done. Yes, it was time to confess to that now.

See, Jeongin had always been a peeping Tom. It was behavior rooted in his core and one of the first things his perverted child self aimed to achieve. It was uncouth and vile of him, but it was Jeongin’s purpose. His duty. Deontological ethics may have some meaning, and though Jeongin knows his morality is far from what is deemed as ‘good’, he had to agree that Immanuel Kant had something right with his key proponent of duty-based morality. Actions are right or wrong based on adherence to moral duties, regardless of the outcome. If Jeongin believed that being a peeping Tom was his moral duty, then he would do anything to ensure his adherence and know that his actions were right.

Going back to his roots of being a chronic voyeur was how he could achieve this. The hoarding, collecting mementos, and creating scenes on Chan’s bed were dissatisfactory in the eyes of his perverted inner beast. He needed to spy on Chan again. It was the only way to keep himself fed and fulfil his twisted moral obligations. That’s why he did what he did, the worst thing he can ever imagine doing to another, but necessary and right in his eyes.

Again, it wasn’t like Jeongin could make a habit of walking in on Chan just getting out of the shower and blaming it all on a silly slip. Jeongin did the only thing he could think to do; he scoured the dark corners of the interwebs on forums he certainly shouldn’t be exploring until he found just what he was looking for. He memorized all the instructions, all the precautions, and could probably recite each one of the reviews helpfully lined up in the comments.

It was an accident that he ordered the thing, just like everything else he’d done up until now. All accidents. It was an accident that he waited until his next available business day with Chan away in the studio to install it like the non-handyman he was. It was an even bigger accident when he configured everything correctly and got the live feed to appear crystal clear on his laptop screen.

Ironically, his criminal behavior is hidden amongst a file titled ‘Sermons’. Fitting, as it quickly became the only thing Jeongin ever wanted to preach. There are, of course, true sermons listed in that file—audios and documents of perverted prayers and gospels that Jeongin himself follows. It’s a protected file because Jeongin was always so, so careful. He never let anyone borrow his laptop or even lay a finger on it, but even if they did the numerous passwords he has protecting everything would save him. No one but him would ever be able to access it.

Motion detectable, waterproof, hidden, safe. Jeongin wasn’t even sure it would work, but he’s pleasantly aroused when Chan takes a shower for the first time after its installation.

It wasn’t an accident that Jeongin purchased the rather pricey one. There was the live feed, of course, that he could watch whenever he wanted. But there was also the nice feature that made it all worth it. The second the tiny camera shoved in one of the spouts of the showerhead detected movement in the bathtub, it started recording and automatically downloaded the saved feed right to Jeongin’s laptop. A miraculous invention indeed.

The only work Jeongin needed to do now was put his cock to good use and pay it minimum wage as he violently jerked off to the videos of Chan showering. He had months’ worth of footage now. Jeongin watched every single video. It was his favorite show, and he had seasons of it to enjoy. It was just him, his pretty little toys, his employee of a hand, and Chan’s naked body every night before he went to bed. Jeongin couldn’t consume any sort of media ever again. This was all he needed.

He had them divided out in his ‘Sermons’ file according to what kind of shower they were. The lame episodes were the ones where Chan sat on the bathtub floor with his head in his hands probably crying over how stressed he was. Jeongin didn’t like those episodes so much. They made him feel sad and had what little humanity he had left desperate to cradle Chan against his chest. They never made him feel guilty though. Never guilty. This was Jeongin’s moral duty. It was right.

The mediocre episodes were the ones where Chan just showered like a normal person. He soaped up his body and washed it all away, water and suds sluicing down his body in a rather attractive way. They weren’t anything special, but they weren’t not special either. Anything that involved a naked Chan and Jeongin’s cock was special.

The good episodes were the ones where Chan jerked himself off. It didn’t matter if it was a leisurely or quick session. It was Chan jerking off. That was more than enough. Jeongin always stroked in time with him and tried his hardest to orgasm at the same time. That felt as close to bliss as Jeongin felt he could get. It was even better when Chan came all over the tiled walls and Jeongin licked over the same spot the very next day trying to get any taste of him he could on his tongue.

The best episodes though, Jeongin’s absolute favorite, were the ones where Chan fucked himself on a dildo he had suctioned to the wall. Jeongin felt feral every time those episodes ran, and he desperately wished that his footage had audio for episodes like those. Chan only seemed to do this sort of thing when Jeongin was not home. It had to have been because he was loud about; it felt like the only reasonable explanation. Jeongin could see it. Chan’s mouth was always stretched open on what looked like loud and lewd moans as he fucked himself, his dick bobbing helplessly against his stomach as he did so. Jeongin couldn’t finish with Chan on those episodes. He always came before Chan even got a hand around his cock because he was so fucking turned on.

Jeongin had every shower Chan has taken in the past three months saved on his laptop, and he unashamedly watched several of them multiple times a day. His own shower footages were discarded almost immediately. Jeongin had no interest in those episodes; they were fillers anyway.

Ambiguous. That’s how Jeongin was feeling lately. He couldn’t decipher the feelings in his chest with his perverted beast roaring and clawing at his insides trying to break through his carefully glued exterior. It was unclear to him whether he was in love with Chan, obsessively so, or just in love with secretly watching him so intimately. He was so focused on keeping himself contained and placated that his own feelings were of no importance. Jeongin had no need for fucks to give, and he certainly had no need for things that could shatter his perfected I.N mask. Chan was doing that though, wasn’t he? Slowly chipping away at Jeongin’s superficial persona until the glue finally gave out and he crumbled apart to reveal the nasty beneath.

Jeongin has to be in love with him, and he has to be one more chip away from breaking free because he’s foolish enough to break his last rule. He was too comfortable now, too complacent, and too close to Chan. It makes him slip up, but that doesn’t mean he’s caught.

“Jeongin-ah,” Chan huffs at him as he comes down the hallway. He sounds wildly irritated, exhausted, and not able to deal with any more of whatever bullshit he seemed to currently be facing. Jeongin acknowledges him from the couch with a raised brow. “Can I borrow your laptop for a little bit? Mine keeps fucking acting up, and I need to get this thing done before midnight or the company’s going to throw a fit. I know you don’t like people touching your laptop, but this is an emergency. Please Innie?”

Jeongin has to be in love because he barely even thinks it over. No one has ever used his laptop before but himself, but Jeongin couldn’t just say no. Chan would either get even more upset or suspicious of what he may be hiding. He was careful though. Everything was carefully encrypted and heavily protected with numerous passwords. Chan would never see. Never suspect. Chan wouldn’t go snooping through his files anyway.

“Of course, Hyung,” he says. The words feel like a betrayal of all that he’s stood on for his entire life. Jeongin was straying from his own perversive gospels, but he’d been doing that from the very beginning with Chan, hadn’t he? The first mistake was getting too invested. “Let me retrieve it for you.”

Chan is on his laptop for hours. Jeongin isn’t really sure what he’s working on, and he doesn’t particularly feel any desire to know either. It didn’t involve Chan’s naked body or his cock, so Jeongin doesn’t care. He should care that Chan has shut himself away in his room and is messing on the most incriminating piece of evidence Jeongin has on himself. He should, but he doesn’t. Jeongin trusts Chan, his exterior is still intact though fragile as it is, and he isn’t all that worried about being found out. He’s always been so careful. Worrying was just another thing he had no need for. Chan had no reason to go digging around. Jeongin was safe.

When Chan wanders into Jeongin’s bedroom at almost midnight to return his laptop, he looks much the same. Irritated and exhausted yet also like a huge burden has been lifted from his shoulders. He isn’t looking at Jeongin though, instead staring blankly at nothing in particular. He has this strange glaze over his eyes, the same sort he gets when he’s stared at the screen for too long and neglected to sleep as well as he should. His expression is a little dazed too, like he was off in some la-la land that deadlines often got him stuck in.

Jeongin offers him a smile anyway. Chan always looked like this when he overworked himself. “Did you finish it on time Hyung?”

“What?” his voice sounds distant, like it was traveling much further than the short distance between them. Jeongin almost chuckles at him. It’s cute whenever Chan gets a little lost in his head and has a hard time focusing on his surroundings. It’s also just how Jeongin likes him to be. Easy prey. Pliant. Whatever project he was working on really must have taken a lot out of him.

“I asked if you finished on time,” Jeongin says still smiling sweetly, “your project that the company was going to throw a fit over if you didn’t get it in by midnight?”

Chan looks at him then, this weird expression warped on his face. He looks like he is both nauseous and has just eaten something extremely sour. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “I finished what I needed to do. Thank you for letting me borrow this.”

Jeongin smiles at him again, and it’s hard to discern whether it’s really him smiling anymore or his innocent little façade. It was hard to discern a lot of things these days with Chan. What he can discern is that Chan doesn’t return his smile with something equally as sweet. His looks much too strained, forced, and Jeongin wishes he knew how to make Chan not overwork himself so much. “It’s no problem, Hyung.”

He starts eagerly reaching for his laptop when Chan offers it back to him. He had yet to watch his show tonight, and he’d stayed up extra late waiting for the opportunity. Chan hesitates a little to let go of the device when Jeongin gets his hands on it. It takes a couple of convincing tugs for him to finally let go, and wow, Chan really is not himself right now. It was almost like he was sleepwalking, going through the motions of being awake as if he were stuck in some sort of slow motion. Jeongin feels a little unnerved by the behavior, and he instinctively clutches his laptop a little harder. He isn’t worried though. He’s safe. He’s just anxious; that’s all. Anxious that he hasn’t watched his show yet.

Jeongin might need to have a serious conversation with Chan about the importance of sleep and prioritizing his health over work because he starts swaying a bit on his feet. “Hyung,” he says with a pointed look, “you should really get into bed and sleep for a whole day. You look exhausted. What did Minho-hyung tell you about sleeping properly?”

Chan shakes his head briefly to clear all the fog from his brain. He looks a little more coherent as he meets Jeongin’s gaze again. His eyes are clearer, and his sour expression morphs into a more real smile. Genuine, small, cute. “You’re right, Innie-yah,” he confesses, and those words sound so precious coming from him. “I am tired, and I will go to bed now. You don’t need to worry.”

Jeongin can’t help but say the words when Chan reaches his bedroom door. They’ve exchanged them numerous times; all the members say them to each other nearly daily. While it may be an affirmation to the others or a chore that Jeongin has to trudge through by faking the sweetness and true depth of what they mean, they were never quite like that with Chan. When he said them to Chan, they were real. He meant them in every sense. It wasn’t a ruse or a thing he had to do to placate his friends into falling for his superficial mask. They were real.

“Good night, Hyung. I love you.”

And Jeongin does. He knows now that he’s in love with Chan and not just the art of carefully spying on him. He must be in love with him. Why else would he ever let himself go this far?

“Yeah,” Chan says from the doorway. He hesitates there with tense shoulders and an even smaller voice when he adds, “I…love you too Innie.”

Jeongin puts off watching his favorite show for just a little longer. He has some housekeeping to take care of just to clear the unnerving buzz beneath his skin that his interaction with Chan had spurred on. He isn’t worried—Jeongin is so safe and careful about his activities—but perhaps just a little restless. He can remedy that immediately by perusing through his criminal subscription in search of abnormalities. He wouldn’t find any. He shouldn’t. It was just a precaution.

There are several tabs open on his web browser when Jeongin opens his laptop. Just a number of simple things like Chan’s email, different music development programs, and a few pdfs of whatever Chan had been working on. In the ‘sent’ folder of his email, Jeongin finds those same files attached to something he’d sent one of the manager hyungs. He really had been working on something. Jeongin wasn’t worried about him lying about that. Chan was as innocent as everyone else believed Jeongin to be. Regardless, he’s halfway placated.

It takes him no time to access his ‘Sermons’ file. Opening the file and navigating all of his subfolders was a part of Jeongin’s daily routine. He knows where everything is, how everything is labeled, and could act out every content of every saved video he had because he’s watched them all so many times. He could even play them back in his head if he needed to. Nothing looks like it’s been touched or knocked out of place. None of his episodes are out of order or sorted into a different folder. His perverted gospels and prayers are saved just as he’d left them, and the copies of Chan’s nudes are just as lovely as the first time he’d seen them.

Safe, careful, and fully placated, Jeongin settles in to watch his show for the night.

Chan is absent the following day. He’s already gone by the time Jeongin crawls out of bed, and he doesn’t make his presence known for the entire rest of the day. This isn’t anything new, not a cause of concern, and certainly not abnormal. Jeongin knows abnormal. It’s been his nature throughout his entire life. He’s intimately acquainted with abnormal, and this wasn’t abnormal. If Chan had been working on something the previous night, then he was no doubt still working on whatever supporting project usually followed. It was simply a stay at the studio all day kind of day. Those were the norm. Jeongin isn’t worried. He’s safe.

Besides, Jeongin was also in and out of the dorm all day. Chan could have slipped in and right back out during the many times that Jeongin had been away. He had slipped in, Jeongin finds out, when he returns to the dorm for good for the night and discovers several things. There’s a note on the kitchen island that reads:

Going to be out late tonight working on some things. I already made you supper – it’s in the fridge. Please eat and don’t wait up for me. Hyung >-<

Cute. Chan was so cute. Even in the midst of a seemingly busy day and following a particularly stressful night, Chan always made the effort to make sure Jeongin was taken care of. He always carved out time to make sure there was food prepared for him and waiting in the fridge even though he knew Jeongin very well knew how to cook for himself. So cute. So easy.

Along with the note and the food in the fridge, Jeongin finds the bathroom in a post-shower state. The fan is still on, mirror fogged up, and damp, humid air thick as he walks in to use the toilet. It reeks of Chan in here, and Jeongin stays a little longer just to soak it all in with intoxicating inhales. He hugs Chan’s drying towel against his face, runs his fingers along the wet tiled walls to suck into his mouth, and brushes Chan’s comb through his neat hair just to feel something. It dawns on him then what sort of episode he’ll be watching tonight. He always got excited for each one, but what’s waiting for him on his laptop has his skin delightfully buzzing and his cock stirring in anticipation.

Chan always fucked himself on one of his dildos when he showered in their dorm while Jeongin was away. Every. Single. Time. Jeongin knows that Chan had done just that before he left. Maybe that’s why the smell of him seemed to linger so strongly and feel palpable in the air. Jeongin could almost taste it. But he could be methodical. He could wait until after he ate his supper and settled in for the night. He may have been greedy, but Jeongin was always patient when it came to his profession.

Retiring to his bed earlier than usual is an easy decision. His belly is full and there are no additional obligations of his to complete for the day. Jeongin can go to bed early and watch his show. No harm no foul. He’s deliberate as he prepares his routine. Tonight would be special. Chan had most likely split himself on silicone in that shower, and Jeongin had the house to himself until well past midnight. He knew this system. It was customary, uniform, and ingrained in his brain just like all the nude mental images of all those who Jeongin had unashamedly collected.

It's with reverence that he undresses himself slowly, running teasing fingertips over his bare skin just as he’d imagine Chan would. The anticipation of what he’s about to see and do already have his cock semi-filled out with delighted interest. Jeongin doesn’t pay it any mind. Not yet. He instead lays his trusty filth towel over his sheets because Jeongin truly did not like to clean up after himself. It was boring, dull, and repetitive. The issue was that he just leaked so goddamn much. An excessive amount of precum that got absolutely everywhere. He’d rather just stuff his towel back into the tub containing Chan’s dirty and cum-covered laundry than wash his sheets. This was easier.

The stash of sex toys he also has under his bed is his next area of interest, but Jeongin won’t be pulling any dildos or vibrators out tonight. He has no need for such things. What he really was desperate for was the clear silicone sleeve he hardly used. A fleshlight—tight and lined with various different ridges that dragged along his cock in all the most perfect ways. Jeongin moans a little when he pulls it out already knowing how good it’s going to feel. He wanted to fuck Chan tonight, and using this was the best course of imagination his mind could supply. Using this and watching what Chan had done in the shower was enough to convince himself that it was him driving his cock into him. Jeongin was going to orgasm so quickly. But that’s how it also goes when he does this, isn’t it?

He assumes his usual position atop his towel, thighs spread and sitting on the backs of his legs with his computer propped just in front of his knees. Again, it’s so easy to pull the correct footage up. Jeongin did this every night and occasionally throughout the day when his sidelong glances or petting the hairs in his little pube jar simply weren’t enough. He’s already fully hard by the time it starts playing, viscous fluid beading in his slit and cock twitching in excitement.

The shower starts off innocent enough, but they always tend to. It’s just Chan standing there with his head tipped back water running in rivulets down his body to swirl down the drain. His shoulders seem a little tense, hitched up close to his body and back muscles straining just a bit under his skin as he turns to grab a bottle, but Chan was stressed recently. It was normal for him to do that. Jeongin doesn’t think much of it because Chan starts soaping up his hair, a delightful distraction.

The thing about Chan is that he never failed to face the showerhead for most of his cleaning routine. He always started with his back to the camera as he simply let the water run over him, but the second he really started cleaning himself or let his arousal take him over, he was facing the showerhead. It was the best possible scenario for someone like Jeongin. Of course, he would surely be content to just stare at Chan’s back and ass for the entire show, but there was nothing better than staring at his defined pecs and abs and best of all his cock. What a show. Jeongin was addicted.

Chan always moved onto the main event after washing his hair. He never washed his body before pleasuring himself because he got all dirty in the process and would just have to repeat everything again. Except this time when Chan moves onto the pre-event, Jeongin is met with a pleasant surprise. He knows what Chan’s face looks like when he fingers himself—he’d seen it exactly thirteen separate times in his perverted show—but Jeongin had never actually seen his hole in action as he fingered himself. He’d seen the pictures, he has those pictures, but Chan liked to face the showerhead as he fingered himself so that he could hold onto the water spigot for balance.

Chan doesn’t do that this time though. He turns his back to the camera to prop his leg on the edge of the tub and bends over to bare his hole right for Jeongin to see as he teases his rim with a finger. Jeongin can’t help the pleased moan that falls from his lips at the sight. Chan’s hole is so pretty, furled pink and needy as his fingers poke deliberately at it. Jeongin wants to taste it, bite it, and take a picture of it covered in his cum to display as his wallpaper. It’s so greedy too, swallowing up the finger Chan has slipped inside himself and hungrily pulling it back in the moment he tries to ease it back out.

Chan was always so hurried and reckless when he fingered himself. It never seemed like he allowed himself a proper stretch before he was forcing more fingers in, and Jeongin thinks that perhaps he likes the pain of it. He has to because he’s already forcing in another finger as his thighs tremble at the effort and head drops between his shoulders with what has to be a devastating groan. Chan barely allows any time for adjustment when he gets them both in to the hilt before he’s pistoning his fingers at a generous pace. What a greedy slut.

Jeongin feels mindless already as he pours an excessive amount of lube into the silicone sleeve and starts working his fingers into the open end matching each movement of Chan’s own fingers. He slides them into the sleeve just the same as Chan slides them into himself, crooks them when Chan does, and tugs at the end of it on his way out just like Chan does to his rim. It’s imperative that Jeongin match his ever motion perfectly. He needs to know exactly how Chan likes to finger himself in case the opportunity ever arises or Jeongin inadvertently becomes an even bigger beast than he is now. He needs to know how Chan likes to be pleasured. That’s part of all this research, isn’t it? Yes, research.

A smile eases its way on his lips when Chan crooks his fingers in such a way that leaves his entire body trembling and his knees wobbling. Jeongin follows the angle with his own fingers in his silicon sleeve with a satisfied smirk as he abuses the spot he imagines is Chan’s prostrate. “Is that your sweet spot, baby?” he whispers aloud with a low sultriness in his tone. “Did Hyung find it? Did Hyung find it for you? Hyung’s so good with his fingers, isn’t he? You love Hyung’s fingers, don’t you? Fucking slut.” Jeongin groans in frustration when he remembers that this Chan is from hours ago, isn’t even corporeal, and therefore cannot respond to him exactly as Jeongin wants him to. It’s stupid that this show of his is so interactive yet he can’t really interact with who he wants.

It isn’t even a want anymore. It’s a need.

He tires of fingering his stupid sleeve just as Chan gets a third digit worked in his hole. It isn’t warm like Chan would be, it isn’t satisfactory like Chan would be, and it doesn’t clench around his fingers like Chan would. It certainly isn’t moaning either like Chan no doubt is, the sultry sounds echoing off the bathroom walls that Jeongin desperately wishes he could hear, so he slips them out with a wet noise and glances at his cock before wrapping a loose hand around himself.

He's wet, terribly so. Drooling and leaking everywhere like the perverted animal he was. It’s so filthy that he can get so wet from just watching Chan finger himself; he’s barely even touched his cock until now, content to leave it neglected until it was time, but there is just so much precum. His dick is slippery with it, shaft shining with the sticky thick trails that have seeped from his slit and ran down his length. It’s pooled all over the skin of his balls, both clinging and dripping from them in long thin drooling lines to soak obscene wet patches into his filthy towel. Even more spills out as he jerks himself lazily. It slips through his fingers and sticks to every surface like honey. He’s so nasty, so perverted, and they aren’t even done yet.

Chan must decide it’s time for the main entertainment because he’s lowering his wobbly leg from the edge of the bathtub and reaching beyond the curtain to grab something from the counter. Jeongin can’t complain; this was his favorite part. He really can’t complain when instead of suctioning the monstrous dildo to the wall opposite of the camera, Chan situates it lower to sit at a slightly upward angle on the edge of the tub where it’s grouted at the base of the wall. Holy fuck. Chan is going to ride that cock facing Jeongin’s helpful camera so he can really get an eyeful of everything.

Jeongin is being treated to so many pleasant surprises tonight. It must be his birthday or something. Chan has never been this generous during his shower play time.

A violent shudder wracks through him when Chan turns to face the camera, and there’s no swallowing down the moan that tears itself from his throat at the sight of Chan’s cock. It’s flushed such a deep red, curved delightfully up toward his stomach, and just so big. Jeongin’s breath is stolen away every time he sees it in this swollen state. He wants to suffocate on it or let it tear apart his insides until he’s a helpless heap buried in the mattress. Willingly. Jeongin would willingly die on Chan’s cock.

His entire body is humming with this heated energy as Chan squats a little with a hand behind his back to ease his way onto the dildo. He registers the exact moment it starts slipping in because Chan’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth falling open with what has to be a beautiful noise, and his fingers curl tightly around the edge of the tub he’s clutching. It takes a long time for Chan to sink fully down onto it with how hurried his preparation had seemed, but his face is dripping in pure unfiltered bliss when he finally does so. He brings his hand away from behind him to claw at the tiles of the wall in a useless grip, and Jeongin knows that this is not going to last very long for either of them.

He waits until Chan starts grinding his hips in little circular movements to slip his own cock slowly into his lubed-up sleeve. The grooves and ridges lining the inside already feel like heaven, but Jeongin doesn’t allow himself to start fucking into it yet. He just keeps it there occasionally squeezing his hand around it as Chan starts lifting himself off the dildo before sinking back down with that stupidly satisfied look warping his face in pleasure.

Jeongin doesn’t feel like he’s watching a show anymore. This was a performance. Chan was performing for him, just him, and Jeongin was not just the only one in the audience but sitting right in the front row. It’s almost cruel that Jeongin hadn’t gotten to see this live; he would kill to see a performance like this live. None of his re-runs compared to what he was seeing now. None.

Chan is bouncing on that monster of a dildo like the damn thing owed him money. His hips are working much too fast for Jeongin to even comprehend, his thighs quivering with the effort and the assault on his insides. His cock is bobbing helplessly against his stomach, slapping his skin and smearing precum everywhere. The expression on his face is perhaps the most beautiful part. His brows are pulled together in tight scrunches, eyelids rapidly fluttering because it feels too much, and mouth drawn open in a stretched ‘o’. Jeongin can’t tell if its water, drool, or tears dripping off his chin, but he knows he wants to lick up every single drop.

He hadn’t realized he’d started whining little breathy moans or fucking his toy ruthlessly until a particular thrust has something delightfully clenching in his stomach and jerking his hips violently forward. But Jeongin doesn’t stop his brutal pace or ease up on the tight squeeze of his fist. He doesn’t think he’s capable of stopping now that he’s started. The ridges of his toy hit all the sensitive parts of his head and tease along his shaft with every frantic thrust of his hips. Jeongin himself is drooling all over his chin, lost in the sensations tight around his dick and at the thrilling pleasure of watching something so private. His moans sound foreign to his own ears, pitchy and loud as they are, and Jeongin doesn’t think he’s ever felt as enraptured as this before.

“You’re going to take what Hyung gives you,” he gets out in stuttered breaths, matching every thrust of his hips with Chan’s torturous pace. It’s too easy for him to play this part, to get into the headspace that the toy he’s fucking is Chan’s ass and the expressions on his pretty face are because of Jeongin’s cock alone. He’s the one Chan is riding, not that stupid dildo, and oh fuck if it isn’t the best sex Jeongin has ever had. “You’re so good for Hyung, baby,” he whines out struggling to keep his eyes open with the boiling heat coursing through him. It’s nearly too much, and Jeongin is so close. “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. And you’re mine. You belong to me.”

And just as if this were live, like Chan had heard exactly what Jeongin said, he lifts his head from where it’s started drooping forward to directly stare up into the camera, right into Jeongin’s black void of a soul, and smiles. It’s all toothy, pleased, incredibly smug, and wanton. It’s all for him. Jeongin’s mouth drops open with some strange animalistic noise ripping from his throat as he comes so hard that his insides feel detached from his body. He hunches forward with one hand clawing at his filthy towel and the other flying desperately over the toy tight around his pulsing cock. It nearly overflows with the excessive amount of cum spurting out of him, but Jeongin isn’t focusing on that; he’s too busy valiantly trying to keep his eyes open and locked on the sultry grin staring right at him.

Jeongin’s hand stills the moment his cock protests the overstimulation, eyes still glued unblinkingly to the screen as he pants and violently shakes in his hunched over position. Chan’s smile drops only a few seconds later, falling back open into what looks like a throaty moan, Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously. His eyes scrunch closed again, eyebrows drawing impossibly close together, and then he’s coming all over himself as his hips work in quick grinds down on the dildo. His thighs and arms are quivering jerkily as he milks himself through his orgasm. There’s cum coating his stomach, chest, even the tops of his thighs, and Jeongin is inconsolable at the sight.

Chan sits there like that for a long few minutes trembling and struggling to hold himself up. His chest is heaving, and he has his head sunk between his shoulders as he gasps in harsh breaths that seem to mirror Jeongin’s own. It starts to catch up with him then as he watches Chan come back from his high. This sense of ominous foreboding creeps between the tendrils of aftershocks still twitching through his muscles. It’s like a grim omen creeping over his pleasure in a dark cloud, shrouding all of his warm feelings into something much more sinister.

It's coincidence that Chan had looked at him like that—had seemingly stared straight into his eyes from beyond the screen and knew what Jeongin was doing. Chan had made eye contact with him through the camera before. It wasn’t new. Sometimes he liked to stare directly up at the showerhead as he washed his chest or inadvertently looked right into its hidden lens as he threw his head back in pleasure. Jeongin had felt the same terror then as well, but they were all accidental looks. Nothing bad ever came out of them, and Jeongin always settled. This was much the same. A coincidence. Not anything to get in a fit about.

But Jeongin is in a slight fit about it. The accidental meeting of eyes didn’t feel so accidental this time, not with the way Chan had smiled or held the gaze for longer than usual. Not with the way Chan had made it a priority to put himself on such display before the hidden lens like he never had before. Not with the way Chan had performed so sensually well.

Jeongin can’t help the way his heart is pounding in his chest as he watches Chan eventually stand on wobbly legs to clean his dildo off and finish up his shower. He’s still panting a little, feeling much too exhausted and torn apart with his own orgasm, and it doesn’t help that the beast trapped behind his ribcage is clawing harder than it ever has before to get out. He forces it all to settle, keeps his glued exterior perfectly intact, because Jeongin was always so careful. So safe. There’s no way Chan could have known what he was doing or that Jeongin was watching.

It's easier to convince himself of this coincidence with Chan washing himself just as normally as he always does. There are no lingering glances toward the showerhead. He doesn’t shy away from where the camera can see and looks completely relaxed as he lets his cum and soap swirl down the drain. Jeongin huffs a laugh at himself for thinking so naively. It was a spur of the moment happening. Chan was so lost in pleasure and in his own little headspace smiling like a maniac, and Jeongin couldn’t think anything suspiciously of that. He knows how often he’s done the same exact thing and zeroed in on a place to hazily stare as it all washed over him.

Jeongin is just being paranoid, but Jeongin was never paranoid. He didn’t believe in that sort of thing. Fickle morality had no room for paranoia for it was too busy construing everything social unacceptably into Jeongin’s new norm. He had his own theory of ethics and morality, duty based as they were, and if Jeongin believed that his actions were right, then they were, and he must fulfill them. They were good; he was good. There was no need for paranoia if he’d done nothing wrong. He was always so safe, so careful. Chan didn’t know. He couldn’t know. Jeongin was a professional. He always had been.

Chan turns the water off, and Jeongin’s breathing picks up even further, his glooming sense of foreboding nearly suffocating him whole because Chan doesn’t get out of the shower. He moves to stand in the center of the tub and stares up at the showerhead again with foggy-sated eyes, right into Jeongin’s terrified ones, and a shy little smile on his wet lips. Then he waves. He waves at him and cups little hearts against his cheeks and puckers his lips out as if he were giving him a kiss. His mouth opens on two words that Jeongin can’t hear—he would never be able to hear them. But Jeongin knows what the shape of his name falling from someone’s lips looks like. He knows exactly how Chan looks when he sweetly says “hi Innie-yah” each time he runs into him in the morning.

Jeongin slams his laptop closed feeling as the very last chip keeping his façade all glued together gets one final tap and crumbles everything he’d spent his whole life building into revealing dust. His perverted beast has nothing caging it in anymore. He’s open, he’s bared, he isn’t safe.

The hunt has come to an end, but Jeongin is no longer the predator.

He’s snagged himself right into the snare Chan had perfectly orchestrated.

The prey has outsmarted him.

Yang Jeongin has been caught.