The twins! There’s nerdjo 🤭and then there’s fratjo too ig, I was really excited when i saw nerdjo trending so I grabbed the opportunity to draw him hehe
Black Swan, an up-and-coming alternative metal rock band, is going on its first official tour. Jungkook looks forward to proving himself in a cutthroat industry, and Taehyung looks forward to the groupies. Neither expects to find the comfort their hearts truly desire in one another.
Pairing: Drummer Taehyung x Singer Jungkook
Rating: Explicit
Genre/Trope: Rock band au, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, smut, fluff
Word Count: 8,736
Content Warnings: jai rants and raves about emo music, drunken making out, frottage, they're adorable your honor, internalized homophobia (we're slowly in our healing era)
A/N: The lyrics featured in this chapter aren’t mine. The songs they belong to are linked in the story, so you can easily find the musicians’ information. I’ve included them to share what the general vibe of Black Swan is like! I hope it creates an ~immersive experience for you.
Soundtrack: Series playlist
♡ Series Masterlist
The air blasting from the Emo Dad van is hot. Taehyung rolls down the driver’s side window (yes, rolls), hoping that a breeze will flow through the van, but the air outside is stagnant and equally hot. He’s not at the point of dripping sweat, but he’s afraid he might get there soon if they’re stuck on the highway any longer. He also has the aching feeling that he might have to pee soon, which makes this hours-long traffic jam even more unbearable.
“I hope this thing doesn’t overheat,” Taehyung mutters, primarily to himself.
The only other person awake in the van is Jungkook, who sits in the passenger’s seat and looks on the verge of a heatstroke. The sweatier of the two, Jungkook’s bangs are pushed away from his face to relieve his sticky skin. He pulls his tank shirt away from his torso and flaps it several times to get some air circulation.
“Please don’t put that in the universe,” Jungkook whines. It’s cute. Taehyung thinks everything Jungkook does is cute.
“Don’t have faith in the Emo Mobile?”
“The Mystery Machine?”
“Nah, we gotta come up with our own thing. Unless you wanna be Fred.”
Jungkook gasps. “Why would I be Fred?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Taehyung flexes his bicep with a grin.
“Fred is stupid.” Jungkook slides down in his seat. Taehyung thinks his pout is cute, too. “I wanna be Velma.”
The snort that rushes out of Taehyung’s nostrils hurts the back of his throat. “You would look good in a miniskirt and librarian glasses.”
Silence blankets the already heavy atmosphere of the van. Taehyung chews at his bottom lip, quickly dragging his front teeth along it from side to side. Why the fuck would he say something like that? Is it even true? Of course, it’s true because Jungkook would look good in anything. But did Taehyung really have to say it like that?
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Jungkook eventually breaks the silence. That's all he says, and Taehyung isn’t sure if he likes that.
Taehyung rubs his clammy hands on the thighs of his basketball shorts and tells himself they’re sweaty because of the heat and no other reason. Afraid of the silence that falls, he reaches over to fiddle with the radio, flipping through a few stations. They’re in the middle of nowhere, so the stations are primarily static or terrible country music.
“AUX?” He asks Jungkook, not caring which of the two controls the music.
“What mood are you in? Black Veil Brides or Forever The Sickest Kids?”
“Oooh, you’re trying to appease me with millennial rock and pop-punk throwbacks, huh?” Taehyung does a little dance by shimmying his shoulders and wiggling his body. “FTSK.”
“I don’t care what anyone says. The early 2000s punk scene was gold,” Jungkook sighs. He puts on Underdog Alma Mater and mimes along to the guitar riffs of “Whoa Oh! (Me vs. Everyone)” in exaggerated motions.
Taehyung hums in agreement. “Top five early 2000s bands, go.”
With furrowed eyebrows, Jungkook stares at the car in front of them. It’s a convertible with the top down and two men in the front seats. They have their arms intertwined atop the middle console.
“I was, like, three years old in 2000.”
“Yeah, okay? And I was five and didn’t even live in America or know English. Go.”
Taehyung knows Jungkook is just being difficult for no reason because all four of them definitely listen to a wide variety of rock music, including the early 2000s.
“My Chemical Romance.”
“You’re so fucking emo,” Taehyung interrupts.
“Shh! You asked me the question, and I’m answering it. My Chem, Boys Like Girls.” Taehyung snickers. “Fall Out Boy, obviously, Gym Class Heroes, and The Maine.”
“Gym Class Heroes and The Maine ?!” Taehyung has to keep his voice down because Jimin and Seokjin are napping in the back of the van. “You’re so…”
“So? So what, hyung? Hm?” Jungkook challenges, but there’s a silly grin lifting the corners of his mouth.
Taehyung shakes his head. His cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling, and he tries to hide it by running his fingers along his lips, his eyes focused on the cars surrounding them. For the first time in days, he feels like he’s in a good mood, a genuinely good mood. Maybe it’s the warmth of the sun. Maybe it’s the warmth of Jungkook’s smile.
“Exactly.” Jungkook playfully huffs. “Now it’s your turn, so I can drag you.”
“Easy. Sublime, Sugar Ray, Green Day, Linkin Park, and Weezer.”
“No way! None of those fucking count; they started in the 80s and 90s.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s all technicalities. Those bands’ most iconic content came out in the early 2000s. Hybrid Theory? Minutes to Midnight? American Idiot? Raditude? You cannot tell me I’m wrong.”
Jungkook blows the strands of hair that have fallen into his face in his enthusiasm. “Nope. This is against the rules.”
Taehyung laughs, his shoulders bobbing up and down as he tries to keep the sound inside. “Alright, alright. I’ll play by your teeny-bopper, punk-pop rules. New list: Panic! At The Disco – before the racism, obviously. The Used, Paramore, Bring Me The Horizon, and Escape The Fate.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You’re so dumb.”
“What the fuck?!” Taehyung twists in his seat, internally cringing at how his sweaty skin sticks to the leather. “What the fuck is dumb? Those are all culturally significant bands.”
Jungkook sticks out his tongue, and Taehyung knows that means he has no good comeback to throw at him.
Feeling triumphant, Taehyung grins as he taps his fingers to the music. The traffic has managed to move a few inches forward, but hardly enough to feel any kind of hope or relief. Being stuck with nothing to do will be good for them, though, him and Jungkook. They haven’t had time to talk – which is entirely Taehyung’s fault. He knows he’s been distant and why things have been awkward. But the last thing Taehyung wants is to upset Jungkook, and he’s starting to realize that he already has.
“New game,” Taehyung announces. “Twenty questions, Black Swan edition.”
Jungkook takes off his seatbelt so he can turn in his chair. With his back leaned against the door, he faces Taehyung, interest peaked.
“Oh? Questions about us? You go first.”
“Mhm, and we both have to answer,” Taehyung instructs. “What’s your favorite song?”
“Ugh, that’s not fair! This question is too hard.” Jungkook crosses his arms against his chest and pouts. Even though the van isn’t moving, Taehyung needs to keep his eyes on the road, or else the cuteness of Jungkook’s expressions is going to strangle him.
“Tough titties, I don’t care.”
“Fine. Mine’s “There’s Fear In Letting Go” if I have to pick.”
Taehyung turns to Jungkook at that, shock clearly written on his face from his raised eyebrows and open mouth. He wets his lips as his eyes search Jungkook’s face, watching his cheeks turn pink.
“Seriously? Why?”
Jungkook looks down, but not quick enough for Taehyung to miss the appearance of his bunny smile. That particular song is so unlike Jungkook. The lyrics are much more depressing than most of their songs and explicitly violent in a way the others aren’t – likely because Taehyung wrote them.
“I don’t know. The lyrics themselves aren’t my favorite – no offense or anything!” Taehyung isn’t offended; he knows they aren’t Jungkook’s vibe. “But I like the way you scream in it.” Jungkook stares at his hands while he talks. “So many of our songs, especially our newer ones, only feature me and Jimin’s vocals. But your harsh vocals are so good. I don’t know, hyung. You just add dimension to our songs. Like there’s more emotion when you scream.”
Taehyung is the only screamer in the band. Any harsher parts of their songs are all him, leaving his throat raw and his voice gravelly by the end of every performance. Most of the time, it isn’t anything some honey in his tea won’t remedy. He read somewhere online that screamers can develop health conditions, but Taehyung has always lived by the motto: here for a good time, not a long time. He supposes he’ll have to give up screaming one day, but not anytime soon.
Jungkook’s praise makes Taehyung wiggle in his seat, and he becomes suddenly uncomfortable with the attention he usually bends backward to receive from others.
“Really?” He asks dumbly.
Jungkook beams at him with his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Of course, hyung. You’ve got a special skill most people don’t. You know I’ve tried.”
Taehyung chuckles at the memory of Jungkook straining himself so hard that he nearly popped a blood vessel trying to make the sounds Taehyung can. Considering how soft-spoken Taehyung is, it's funny that he can sound so rough and intimidating.
It’s definitely not for everyone. Some people think their genre is evil, even. Taehyung has been called a Satanist more than once. He just laughs.
Jungkook draws his legs into his seat to sit with them crossed like a pretzel.
“My favorite song is “The Summoning.” Partly because of the lyrics but also because it’s one of my favorites to play. The instrumentals really hit different with that one.”
“And you get to scream.”
Taehyung chuckles. “Yeah, also that. But I think me, Chim, and hyung really work well together on that one. And it’s very… unique in its vibes.”
“It’s sensual.”
Taehyung hums. That’s the reason why it’s a fan favorite.
“Alright. Which song is your favorite, based on the lyrics?”
Jungkook seems shy answering this question, too. Perhaps it’s because he and Seokjin write most of the lyrics. Taehyung has had his hand in writing a few songs, though he feels that writing isn’t his strong suit. He’ll bang away at the drums and create a beat easily, but words don’t come to him as painlessly as they do for Jungkook and Seokjin.
Taehyung wonders if it’s because he learned English as an adult, whereas English is Jungkook and Seokjin’s first language. Even now, after being in the United States for almost a decade, Taehyung still has to think intentionally about what he wants to say. It isn’t uncommon for him to encounter a word he doesn’t know or forget how to say something.
Breaking Taehyung out of his thoughts, Jungkook mumbles his answer to the question, but Taehyung can’t hear.
“Which one?”
“Middle of the Night,” Jungkook rushes to respond. His face is bright pink.
“Middle of the Night” is their most popular song. It’s a song about desire, pining, and secrecy. It’s sexy and raw, and how Jungkook performs adds to the appeal. He caresses the mic stand as if it’s a lover, holds it to his body, and moves with purpose. Sometimes, Taehyung wonders who was on Jungkook’s mind when he wrote such passionate lyrics.
Taehyung remembers listening to the song for the first time. Jungkook had created a demo and confessed that Taehyung was the first person he’d shown it to. Sitting in Jungkook’s living room felt special. Their knees bumped into each other while they sat on his couch, hunched over Jungkook’s laptop. Jungkook stared up at Taehyung with stars in his eyes despite his nervousness as Taehyung listened to the song.
He felt that tingling sensation he often gets in his fingertips, like this was a special moment he needed to hold onto. He did his best to memorize the look on Jungkook’s face—pink cheeks, bunny teeth, and eyes swimming with adoration.
“I summoned you, please come to me. Don’t bury thoughts that you really want. I fill you up, drink from my cup. Within me lies what you really want.”
Taehyung closes his eyes as Jungkook’s voice filters through the car speakers. Jungkook is playing the song, even though they’ve performed it a million times, and Taehyung has the lyrics branded on his brain.
“In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night, just call my name, I’m yours to tame. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the night, I’m wide awake, I crave your taste.”
Taehyung may satisfy himself with liquor, but he swears he could get drunk off of Jungkook’s intoxicating voice.
“Hyung?”
Opening his eyes, Taehyung leans his head against the seat’s headrest and turns slightly to look at Jungkook. He can’t stop his eyes from zeroing in on Jungkook’s tongue, wiggling his lip piercing, even though he wants to. Not that it really matters or anything, of course. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Yeah?” Taehyung clears his throat, mouth suddenly dry.
Jungkook looks like he’s about to ask Taehyung something when a loud yawn interrupts the silence that had fallen between the two men. Turning away from Taehyung, Jungkook looks toward the back of the van.
In the rearview mirror, Taehyung can see Seokjin rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms.
“Are we so narcissistic that we’re listening to our own album right now?” Seokjin grumbles. He’s just being annoying; they often listen to their own music.
Taehyung does it because he is narcissistic, whereas Jungkook does it to either analyze its flaws or reminisce. Taehyung isn’t sentimental enough for either reason.
“Leave them alone,” Jimin mumbles from where his face is smashed into his pillow. “Jungkookie’s voice is pretty.”
Turning his attention to the road again, Taehyung finds that traffic has started moving. It’s relieving; the faster they get to the next gig, the sooner Taehyung can take a piss – and the sooner he can walk off whatever weird nerves have gotten stirred up in his stomach from the look Jungkook gives him as the song ends.
“Oh my god, hi, Kookie! I can’t believe I actually got to meet you. Wow, I, like, can’t breathe right now.”
A fan leans into Jungkook’s side with her hands wrapped around his bicep to hold herself steady as she wobbles on heels far too tall for a rock concert. Jungkook is still a little sweaty from Black Swan’s performance, and the fan’s body heat isn’t helping him cool down. Undeterred by the thin sheen of sweat on Jungkook’s body, the fan looks up at him through her copper-brown bangs and bats her fake eyelashes in what she probably thinks is coy flirtation.
In front of them, the fan’s friend is equally as starstruck to be in Jungkook’s presence. She fidgets with her phone in one hand and a thick black Sharpie marker in the other, switching the items back and forth. There’s a longing in her eyes as she watches her friend throw herself at Jungkook.
Jungkook recognizes that look in Sharpie Girl’s eyes and the feeling behind it. It’s the same longing he feels when he watches people effortlessly socialize with one another, like this copper-haired fan. For introverts like Jungkook and Sharpie Girl, making that first step toward talking to someone new can feel like the most painful thing in the world.
It just kind of sucks that to be successful in the music industry, Jungkook must always talk to strangers.
Tilting his chin, Jungkook blows a thick stream of smoke into the air and watches the summer night breeze take it away as the touchy fan continues showering him with superficial compliments. It’s a little after midnight. The bar they performed at has a decent-sized outdoor patio. The guys thought hosting an informal fan meet and greet after the show might be fun. It's nothing flashy, just a space for fans to hang out while the bandmates come down from the high of the performance before they continue partying for the night.
If it were up to Jungkook, he’d be soaking in a bubble bath. Unfortunately, Seokjin and Jimin are in charge of maintaining the band’s image, including socializing. They sit in one corner of the patio at a small round table littered with crushed beer cans, empty cocktail glasses, and cherry stems. They, too, speak with what Jungkook assumes are fans – or at least people with just as good a taste of music.
And then there’s Taehyung, who will go wherever the alcohol is.
Jungkook’s eyes naturally find Taehyung. He’s sitting on the metal railing that fences in the patio, elbows on his knees and a sweating beer in his hand. Taehyung dressed down today, wearing a plain black t-shirt tucked into straight-leg black jeans secured by a belt. Maybe to Taehyung, wearing plain clothes and his old Vans is considered lazy, but Jungkook thinks he looks good in anything.
Two guys Jungkook doesn’t recognize, likely fans, are talking to Taehyung. Every once in a while, Taehyung will grab onto the metal railing to hold himself in place while he throws his head back with laughter. Jungkook can’t help but smile when Taehyung’s wavy brown hair falls into his eyes, and he uses his pinky to swipe the strands away from his eyelashes.
“Can I have your autograph?”
Sharpie Girl’s question reminds Jungkook of his surroundings and the fact that he is, unfortunately, able to be perceived. A terrifying reality, truthfully.
“Uhh, yeah,” Jungkook mumbles, his brain skipping like a scratched vinyl when Taehyung suddenly turns his head and notices Jungkook staring.
Without missing a beat, Taehyung winks at him. The action is so quick that Jungkook would have missed it if he hadn’t been ogling him with wide eyes. By the time Jungkook’s brain reboots, Taehyung is back to talking to the fans hanging around him.
Fuck, something so simple shouldn’t have Jungkook feeling like a giggly teenager with a stupid crush, yet here he is, face flushed pink and hands clammy. He lifts his vape to his lips and inhales to calm himself down.
“What would you like me to sign?” Jungkook asks politely once he has slipped his vape into the pocket of his jeans. He has to remind himself that these girls are here for him, which means he needs to give them his full attention.
Sharpie Girl’s hands tremble when she gives Jungkook her Sharpie and cell phone, asking Jungkook to sign her phone case. It’s cute, considering Jungkook isn’t even famous . His autograph means nothing except for whatever Sharpie Girl decides it means – which must be a lot, considering how nervous she is. It’s endearing and makes Jungkook’s heart swell with affection for someone he doesn’t know. It’s sweet, almost even a bit naive.
Her friend, on the other hand, is an entirely different story. After handing Sharpie Girl’s phone back, the copper-haired fan tugs on the hem of Jungkook’s shirt.
“Me next,” she whines.
“Okay,” Jungkook says with a nod. “Want me to sign your phone, too?”
The fan’s smile curves into something conniving as she shakes her head. “No, I want you to sign my tits.”
“Emily!” Sharpie Girl whisper-yells and gives Jungkook an apologetic look. “You can’t just ask a guy to sign your tits!”
Emily rolls her eyes and swats at her friend’s hand when she tries to pull her away from Jungkook. “What? It’s just tits. I’m sure Kookie sees plenty.”
She’s wrong because Jungkook isn’t even remotely interested in seeing strangers’ tits, but he doesn’t say that. Instead, he wrinkles his nose at Emily in the way he knows people find endearing and tries not to sound too dead when he says, “Fuck yeah, let’s do it.”
Never in Jungkook’s life did he ever think he would find himself bending forward to sign his name across a fan’s cleavage as she pulls the collar of her shirt down to expose the top of her chest. As he steps back to examine the cursive swoops of “KOOKIE” written in bold ink across Emily’s tits, Jungkook wonders if he’s supposed to feel excited by this. He had to touch her bare skin to sign his stage name, seeing how her skin pebbled with goosebumps and her nipples hardened under her thin shirt. Is he supposed to feel something? Was this supposed to be sexy? He doesn’t know, and that frustrates him.
“Let’s take a picture,” Emily murmurs in Jungkook’s ear, pressing her body against him as she sticks out her arm to take a selfie.
Emily is attractive; Jungkook knows this. By society's standards, she looks cute next to him, maybe even hot, with big tits, plump lips, and eyes that would look pretty crying during sex. Jungkook knows all this objectively, but he doesn’t feel anything when Emily runs her hand down his thigh or presses her lips against the corner of his mouth when she snaps a second selfie.
Emily whispers in Jungkook’s ear that she wants to swallow his cock.
He doesn’t even know her.
“Jungkook, let’s go.” A hand decorated with numerous thin gold rings wraps around Jungkook’s wrist and roughly pulls him forward, forcing Emily to detach herself.
“Hey! We were talking,” Emily snaps like a wild animal trying to protect its kill from scavengers.
“And now you’re not.” Taehyung gives Emily a hard stare, making the poor girl back down almost immediately.
Jungkook’s cheeks burn from the inappropriate thoughts that run through his head about his bandmate, thoughts about Taehyung being possessive and using that stern voice on him. Ducking his head to avoid looking at the fans, Jungkook lets Taehyung drag him through the patio doors. As they enter the nightclub, Jungkook can hear Sharpie Girl hiss, “Emily, that was V.”
Maybe Emily and Sharpie Girl would have wanted to go home with Taehyung if Jungkook hadn’t ruined everything. The thought of Taehyung with some groupie sours Jungkook’s already confusing mood.
Strobe lights pulse overhead, flooding the dance floor in shades of blue and pink. Jungkook nearly slips on a wet spot on the floor, saved from falling flat on his ass by Taehyung’s arm wrapped around his waist.
“Careful, heodang,” Taehyung snickers and removes his arm.
Grabbing Taehyung’s bicep, Jungkook shoves him forward into the crowd. “Shut the fuck up, hyung. You know I don’t know what that means.”
Taehyung’s eyes sparkle in the club lights when he looks over his shoulder to laugh at Jungkook. It’s a mean laugh meant to make fun of him, but Jungkook feels nothing but affection bloom inside his chest. Taehyung looks irresistible, lit by the strobe lights, face flushed from alcohol.
“Let me teach you hangugeo like I been asking you to,” Taehyung challenges.
Jungkook waves him away, opting to bump their shoulders together and give Taehyung an annoyed pout instead of shouting his rebuttal over the loud music. He wants Taehyung to teach him Korean. The idea of being able to speak to Taehyung in his first language, the language he is most comfortable speaking in, makes Jungkook feel overwhelmingly soft for his friend. Not to mention that the language is also Jungkook’s heritage. Sadly, he’s too nervous to let Taehyung teach him. What if he’s not any good at it? He’ll feel stupid, and being stupid in front of Taehyung is the last thing he wants.
Reaching the bar counter, Jungkook leans against it while they wait for the bartender to finish pouring a row of shot glasses for a group of men standing beside them. One man overtly checks Jungkook out, his gaze lingering on Jungkook’s exposed midriff. Instinctually, Jungkook stands closer to Taehyung.
Taehyung rests his forearm on the bar counter and waves down a bartender. When he speaks, he does so sideways without looking at Jungkook. “What do you wanna drink?”
“I don’t know, whatever you’re drinking.”
“Vodka Red Bull.”
Jungkook fake gags. “You’re disgusting.”
This finally makes Taehyung look at Jungkook. He twists until his hip is propped against the counter. “Says the guy signing girls’ tits.”
The jab hurts more than it should, and Jungkook’s mouth drops in disbelief. “Excuse me? Do we need to talk about all the disgusting things you’ve done with female fans?”
Taehyung presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and watches Jungkook momentarily. If he plans to say something, Jungkook will never know because the bartender returns with drinks and a pair of shot glasses. Taking one for himself, Taehyung hands the other shot of clear liquid to Jungkook, who accepts it hesitantly.
“It’s just vodka, relax,” Taehyung smirks when Jungkook sniffs the glass.
With a glare in Taehyung’s direction, Jungkook throws the shot back. Jungkook winces when the taste hits his tongue; Taehyung drinks liquor like water. He feels bad for drinking with Taehyung, but right now, the selfish part of him that wants to spend time with Taehyung overpowers the guilty part.
“If you can’t finish your drink, I’ll take it,” Taehyung offers with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I know how you get.”
“Is teasing me all you’re going to do all night, hyung?” Jungkook takes a gulp of his drink as if to say, ‘fuck you,’ but all he does is sputter when he immediately chokes on it.
Seeing Taehyung's lopsided grin is almost worth the embarrassment. “All I’m saying is you’re still a baby, alright? You don’t hold your liquor very well.” He reaches over to pinch Jungkook’s cheek. “Babyface Jeon. So fucking cute.”
Jungkook wants to say that after a certain point, Taehyung doesn’t do so great with his liquor either, but he keeps that to himself. He’s tired of thinking about the night Taehyung nearly put himself in the hospital from how much he’d been drinking. If Jungkook hadn’t found him passed out in the bathroom… well, he’s not sure what would have happened.
Blinking rapidly, Jungkook tilts his head up to stop himself from crying. Fuck, it usually takes more alcohol in his system before he starts getting like this.
“Aw, Koo, I’m sorry,” Taehyung apologizes, thinking what he said upset Jungkook. Someone bumps into him, jostling him forward until he’s suddenly in Jungkook’s space. “I’ll stop teasing you. Wanna go find Jimin or Jinnie hyung?”
Jungkook shakes his head, his shaggy bangs swaying across his forehead.
“Hmm, tell hyung what you want, and I’ll get it for you, okay?” Taehyung cocks his eyebrows over the rim of his glass as he sips his drink. Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be flirty, but it sure as fuck feels like it when his stomach is doing cartwheels.
Taehyung confuses him.
Jungkook nods toward the packed dance floor. “I want to dance.”
Taehyung and Jungkook are on their third or fourth round of drinks – Taehyung can’t keep track – when Taehyung has an epiphany: Jungkook’s waist is tiny.
Taehyung has never noticed it before, and why would he have? It’s Jimin who fusses over Jungkook’s appearance. Taehyung and Seokjin are perfectly content with throwing on whatever clothes are clean and making it work because their faces speak for them louder than their clothes do.
But right now, Taehyung is noticing. And he’s paying very close attention.
Jungkook’s crisp white tank top is tight and cropped right above his belly button. Paired with low-rise jeans, Jungkook’s waist is on display for everyone to see how slim it is. Taehyung feels dizzy as Jungkook throws his arms over his shoulders and steps close enough that their bodies are nearly touching.
“Taehyungie,” Jungkook giggles in his ear, sufficiently drunk by now but not wasted.
Taehyung doesn’t know what’s so funny. Whatever it is has gone over his head; he’s too caught up staring at where his hands rest on Jungkook’s waist. His hands engulf Jungkook’s waist, fingers nearly touching as he wraps them around him. Taehyung knows he has large hands, but, fuck.
Jungkook’s skin is hot under Taehyung’s touch. When he lightly taps his fingertips against him, Jungkook sighs so quietly that Taehyung only hears it because his lips are still at Taehyung’s ear.
“Dance with me.”
The request is just as quiet as the soft sigh, spoken only loud enough for Taehyung to hear over the music right along the shell of his ear. Jungkook’s lips briefly brush against his skin, and Taehyung swears he can feel the shiver the sensation causes ripple down his body to his toes.
Suddenly, Jungkook twists in Taehyung’s grasp. His back presses firmly against Taehyung’s chest. When Jungkook sways his hips to the music, his ass drags back and forth across Taehyung’s crotch.
“Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung tries to scold sternly, but he’s appalled to hear his voice come out slurred and whiny.
With his chin tilted, Jungkook looks up at Taehyung with bright eyes barely tinged red, far more alert than Taehyung’s. He runs his hands down Taehyung’s forearms, stopping to rest them over Taehyung’s hands. Jungkook presses down, forcing Taehyung to tighten his grip on his waist. With his hands still holding Taehyung’s in place, Jungkook swirls his hips, grinding harder on Taehyung’s crotch.
Taehyung audibly sucks in air through his teeth.
Dancing like this isn’t unusual. Taehyung often finds a girl to grind with. He likes the way they feel pressed up against him, likes to skate his fingers along the smooth skin at their waist, grip their hip bones, and force their bodies to grind against him at the pace he wants. He likes reaching down to run his hands down their bodies and tease the sensitive skin of their inner thighs.
And then he likes to take them home and fuck them with the cock they’ve spent all night rubbing their asses against.
But Jungkook isn’t a girl, and he certainly isn’t a stranger – yet Taehyung tingles with an exhilarating warmth at every juncture where Jungkook’s body touches his.
“Yeah, hyung?” Jungkook’s lips stick to Taehyung’s sweaty skin as he speaks into the crook of his neck when he turns his head to the side. Jungkook lets go of Taehyung’s hands to lift his arms. He tugs on the nape of Taehyung’s neck, pulling him closer as he grinds against him.
Taehyung finds himself chasing the heat of Jungkook’s body, drawing him backward until their bodies are flush against each other, Taehyung nearly draped over him. He hooks his chin over Jungkook’s shoulder, tilting his head slightly to nuzzle his neck. Holding Jungkook against his body feels good. He’s warm and soft, and their bodies move as if they were made to fit together like this. In a way, Taehyung thinks they are. They’re best friends, aren’t they?
They are best friends who have grown apart, but Taehyung is drunk and doesn’t want to think about that. The club is warm hues smeared on a painter’s palette, pretty even if Taehyung’s brain is muddled.
Pretty like Jungkook, whose eyes flutter close and lips part when Taehyung presses against him. He would do anything for Jungkook, Taehyung realizes as he leans into him. It isn’t a new thought, but it hits him harder right now when he’s drunk and hot with pent-up energy and feelings he can’t sort out. All he knows is that he’s safe here, like Jungkook is a shield hiding him from the rest of the world. For these few minutes, there’s no one else at the club. No fans trying to fuck Jungkook while Taehyung is right there . No assholes making comments on whether two men should be dancing like this. No Jimin or Seokjin to overanalyze how Taehyung breathes in the comforting smell of Jungkook’s cologne. It’s just Taehyung and Jungkook giving each other light touches and speaking through shaky breaths that say more than any words could.
One of Taehyung’s hands slides down to squeeze Jungkook’s hip while his other slips beneath Jungkook’s cropped tank shirt, caressing the smooth skin just above his belly button.
When the music blasting through the club speakers shifts to something slow and sensual, Jungkook leans back to rest his head against Taehyung’s shoulder. With more skin exposed, Taehyung runs his nose up Jungkook’s neck. Once he reaches the soft spot at the corner of Jungkook’s jaw, just below his ear, Taehyung pauses to press his mouth against his skin. He doesn’t know why he does it; he just knows something about it seems fitting.
He feels Jungkook’s body shudder in his hold, and all Taehyung can think about is how hot it is that he can get that kind of response from him.
“Tae,” Jungkook moans, and the sound makes Taehyung feel like he’s going insane.
“Yeah?” Taehyung murmurs against Jungkook’s skin.
Jungkook turns his head to the side, bringing their faces directly in front of each other. They’re close enough that Jungkook’s nose bumps into his. When Jungkook inhales, his lips brush against Taehyung’s.
What the fuck are they doing?
Not only does the feeling of Jungkook’s lips on his catch Taehyung off guard, but it genuinely terrifies him when he feels hot pleasure shoot straight to his cock, and he starts throbbing in his pants.
It’s the moment Taehyung realizes he’s hard. He’s hard, and there’s no way Jungkook hasn’t noticed.
“Jungkook, stop.” Taehyung immediately steps back, putting much-needed space in between them. He inhales deeply, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart, and fights the urge to adjust himself in his pants in front of everyone in the club.
Jungkook turns to face Taehyung, a deep pout already pulling down the corner of his pink lips. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s–?” Taehyung gives Jungkook an incredulous look. “What’s wrong? Jungkook, what’s wrong? ” Reaching down, he tugs at the thighs of his jeans, hoping to move the fabric into a more comfortable position without overtly touching his dick. “I think you know what the fuck is wrong.”
Jungkook’s eyes fall to Taehyung’s crotch. Taehyung doesn’t think his erection is noticeable but feels antsy anyway. This shouldn’t be happening to him. It can’t possibly be happening.
Opening his mouth, Taehyung stands there like a fish out of water. He swears people are looking at him now. He can’t actually tell, but he can feel their eyes on him. “I need to go.”
“Wait!” Jungkook snatches Taehyung’s wrist, but Taehyung twists his arm hard enough that Jungkook has to let go. “Hyung, please don’t leave. Just, can we just talk, please? Don’t leave!”
Taehyung considers staying. He could go back to the bar and order a couple more shots, down them back to back, and then find his hyungs. Seokjin would keep Taehyung’s mind off of whatever the fuck is going on inside his head right now. Jimin would know there’s something up and would press Taehyung about it, so he’s of no use.
Then again, if he stays, Jungkook is hot on his heels. Taehyung can hear him calling out to him, but his brain is buzzing so loudly that he can’t focus on anything but what’s directly in front of him.
Before he can reach the bar counter, Jungkook grabs a hold of the back of Taehyung’s t-shirt, right in between his shoulder blades. He yanks him backward, nearly causing Taehyung to fall.
“What the fuck, Jungkook?” Taehyung shouts, twisting around to get out of Jungkook’s hold.
Jungkook tightens his grip, bunching the fabric in his fist. “Don’t walk away from me, hyung,” he says in a demanding tone Taehyung has never heard him use before. It makes him sound older and harsher.
It doesn’t matter, though. Taehyung is drunk and undeterred.
“I’ll fucking walk away from you if I fucking want to, Jeon,” Taehyung bites back. He finally shrugs Jungkook off of him. “I’m going back to the hotel.”
“Then I’m going with you.”
“No, the fuck you aren’t,” Taehyung rushes to argue, suddenly nervous about the odd thrill that overcame him.
Having Jungkook follow him would be a bad idea. Taehyung is pissed off, at what, he’s not entirely sure. Regardless of the reason, Jungkook is irritating him. Being horny, tired, drunk, and confused isn’t a medley of emotions Taehyung would like to share with Jungkook right now. Or ever.
With narrowed eyes, Jungkook gets in Taehyung’s face with uncharacteristic aggression. “Yes. I. Am. You’re drunk, and I don’t trust you, hyung. I really don’t.”
Taehyung bites the inside of his cheek and looks away, finding a discarded lighter on the floor and keeping his attention on the lime-green plastic.
Untrustworthy; Taehyung has been called worse.
It still hurts. It hurts because Taehyung knows it's true.
The Uber ride to the hotel is awful.
Taehyung feels sick to his stomach the entire way, not because of the alcohol. He hasn’t consumed as much as Jungkook is making it out to seem, and, honestly, that’s the worst part of it. Taehyung is drunk but not so far gone that he lacks control. He knows he will remember everything that has transpired tonight down to minor details–like how Jungkook nervously bites at his lip piercing as they exit the Uber and enter the hotel lobby. He’ll remember how silent the elevator ride is, how Jungkook refuses to look at him, how he refuses to look at Jungkook. He’ll remember how Jungkook swats Taehyung’s shaking hands out of the way to unlock the hotel room himself.
But worst of all, he’ll remember how angry he gets when Jungkook says, “You’re always running away from everything, you know that, Taehyung?”
Without warning, Taehyung flattens his palms against Jungkook’s chest and shoves him backward, pushing him up against the door as it clicks shut.
“Say that again?” he hisses through his teeth. It’s too much, the pressure in his body. He feels like a bottle rocket with feelings so tightly compressed in his body that he knows he’ll soon explode.
“Stop it, hyung,” Jungkook challenges. His tone is biting, but his eyes have a watery glaze that is apparent even in the dimly-lit hotel room.
If Jungkook starts crying, Taehyung doesn’t know what he’ll do. He’s too drunk to handle the situation with the care that Jungkook deserves. Every one of his cells seethes with anger – anger at Jungkook for sticking his nose in Taehyung’s business, anger at himself for being such a fuck-up, anger at the universe for dealing Taehyung the cards that it did and then punishing him for being unable to handle them.
So he drinks and tries to pretend he’s not hurting.
“You just have to care, don’t you?”
“Of course I fucking care!”
Taehyung takes a step forward, crowding Jungkook against the door. His forearms rest on either side of Jungkook, just above his shoulders. Their height difference was always something Taehyung liked to tease Jungkook about, even though the difference was honestly minimal. Now, Taehyung takes advantage of that extra inch or two as he cages Jungkook in.
“I really wish you wouldn’t,” Taehyung murmurs as he leans forward. Jungkook is breathing hard now. Taehyung peers between their bodies to watch his chest rapidly rise and fall.
“Why wouldn’t you want me to care about you, hyung?” Jungkook stares up at Taehyung with big doe eyes that sparkle with unshed tears in the bed lamp's warm glow.
Shaking his head slowly, Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut. He’s off-centered from drinking, and it’s harder to steady himself with his eyes closed. But then he feels Jungkook’s fingers twist into the front of his shirt, and Taehyung allows himself to tip all the way forward.
“Koo,” Taehyung murmurs as he presses his forehead against Jungkook’s. “I don’t fucking deserve you.” Their noses brush against each other, and he can feel Jungkook’s breath dust across his lips, much like he had at the club.
“Hyung…” Jungkook’s tongue slips from between his lips to wiggle his piercing.
“Yeah?” Taehyung’s eyes drop to follow the movement when he pulls back slightly, unconsciously licking his lips. He feels like he can’t breathe. What little air is left in Taehyung’s chest is punched out the moment Jungkook speaks.
“Can you… will you kiss me?”
Taehyung feels every neuron go off in his brain like little electric shocks lighting up the inside of his head with the strobe lights of the nightclub. He stares at Jungkook, unblinking, with his lips slightly parted as he inhales sharply.
“You want me to…” Taehyung quietly trails off, his eyes locked on Jungkook’s pretty lips.
“Kiss me, Tae,” Jungkook pleads. He tilts his chin slightly as he gently tugs on Taehyung’s shirt. It isn’t forced; Jungkook is letting Taehyung make the decision for himself.
Can he? Does he want to? There isn’t time to consider what it would mean.
Releasing a shaky exhale, Taehyung tilts his head just a fraction to the right, bumping his nose against Jungkook’s in the slow movement. He can hear Jungkook’s breathing hitch, and something about that small sound makes the situation's urgency crash onto Taehyung like ice water flooding his lungs. The burning heat he’d felt nuzzling into Jungkook’s neck on the dance floor reignites at the sound of Jungkook’s quiet breathing as he waits in anticipation for what Taehyung will do.
Taehyung would do anything for Jungkook.
With both hands pressing against the door and his body slightly bent forward, Taehyung wets his lips a final time before pressing them against Jungkook’s.
When Jungkook whimpers into Taehyung’s mouth the moment their lips meet, Taehyung realizes that he isn’t only doing this for Jungkook. Arousal pools in Taehyung’s stomach as Jungkook continues whimpering, so high-pitched and depraved that Taehyung feels his cock twitch in his jeans.
Jungkook lets go of Taehyung’s shirt to flatten his hand against his chest. It makes Taehyung nervous because he knows Jungkook will be able to feel how frantically his heart is beating as their lips find a rhythm just as quickly as their bodies had on the dance floor. However, it seems Jungkook doesn’t care how pathetic Taehyung’s heart may be. He keeps one hand against Taehyung’s chest and brings his other to Taehyung’s curls – and tugs.
“Fuck, Jungkook,” Taehyung moans against Jungkook’s lips at the feeling of his blunt nails digging into his scalp.
Using another tug as a distraction, Jungkook slips his tongue into Taehyung’s open mouth. It brings out another moan from Taehyung, muffled and stemming from deep inside his chest. The kiss is tame by Taehyung’s standards, even with Jungkook swirling his tongue around Taehyung’s. It isn’t until Jungkook pulls back slightly to suck Taehyung’s bottom lip into his mouth that Taehyung’s thoughts become static, and he completely loses himself.
Adjusting his stance, Taehyung presses his thigh between Jungkook’s legs, faltering slightly when he feels Jungkook’s hardening cock brush against his. Jungkook notices it, too, and bucks against Taehyung, forcing more friction and making Taehyung shudder. He lets go of Taehyung’s shirt to slide his hand around his waist. Taehyung isn’t expecting it when Jungkook grabs his ass, squeezing the toned muscle to pull him forward.
“Touch me,” Jungkook begs, his lips ghosting over Taehyung’s when he pulls back to speak. “Please, Tae. I can’t let anyone else do it.”
Taehyung doesn’t know what Jungkook means by his confession, but the pain in his voice is enough to make Taehyung jump into the line of fire if that is what Jungkook wants him to do.
“Where?” Taehyung has to ask. He has to hear Jungkook say it, not only to make it real but to guide him because no matter how strongly Taehyung’s body is reacting to all of this, he’s in uncharted territory.
Jungkook stares at Taehyung with eyes too innocent for what they’re doing as he wraps his fingers around Taehyung’s wrist and brings Taehyung’s hand to press against the bulge in his jeans.
“Here.”
Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a deep breath. He gives himself a moment before opening his eyes again. With shaking hands, he unzips Jungkook’s jeans. But when he reaches for the waistband of his briefs, he stops.
The fucking Calvin Klein briefs, fucking hell. What the fuck.
“I…” Taehyung swallows, eyes darting up to stare into Jungkook’s. If his heart could beat out of his chest, it would have been flopping around on the floor already.
“Please,” Jungkook whispers.
Taehyung nods. He doesn’t look away from Jungkook’s face as he pulls down Jungkook’s jeans and briefs just far enough down past his waist to release his cock completely.
Touching another man is anti-climactic. Taehyung thought the world might end, that somehow his father would come kicking down the door to call him a faggot and tell all his friends. It’s irrational, but the fear is there – this fear that he shouldn’t be doing this, that it’s wrong because Jungkook is his friend and he’s a man.
But nothing happens. Taehyung runs his finger up the length of Jungkook’s cock while he watches Jungkook’s wide eyes flutter close and his lips part, and it feels good to make Jungkook feel good.
Touching Jungkook is exhilarating.
When Taehyung looks down, something electric shoots through his body when he sees his hand holding Jungkook. It’s his hand circling Jungkook’s shaft, his hand slowly dragging up the length. He runs his thumb along the head of Jungkook’s cock, spreading precum around the tip. He feels the muscle twitch in his hand when his thumb swipes across the slit a second time to gather more.
Taehyung’s heart is pounding in his head. He can’t hear anything except the whimpering moans Jungkook makes every time Taehyung swirls his thumb in circles.
“Want you, too,” Jungkook mumbles. He weaves his arms with Taehyung’s to reach his pants’ zipper.
“What?” Taehyung gasps when Jungkook squeezes his cock through his jeans. “You what?”
“You’re hard.” It’s a statement, not a question.
Taehyung wets his lips and nods. It doesn’t matter that his words get caught in his throat because Jungkook doesn’t wait to hear what he has to say.
“We’ve got pent-up energy,” Jungkook says with a rushed exhale. “We… just… gotta get it… out.” His fingers tremble so intensely that he struggles for a bit before managing to pop free the button of Taehyung’s pants.
Taehyung lets out a low groan when Jungkook shoves his jeans down until the waistband sits just below the curve of his ass.
Jungkook’s fingers wrap around Taehyung’s wrist, guiding Taehyung’s hand to his own cock while he bucks his hips. The sound he makes when their bare cocks touch is something Taehyung wishes he could burn into his brain. Taking the hint, Taehyung spits into his palm and takes hold of both their cocks in his hand. He fucks up into his hand, rubbing his cock against Jungkook’s. He realizes he doesn’t know if Jungkook has ever done this before. They’ve never discussed Jungkook’s sexuality explicitly, but Taehyung has always assumed Jungkook is straight.
“Like this?” Taehyung asks, hoping he sounds more thoughtful than insecure.
“Y-yeah, like that.” Jungkook leans back against the door, jutting his hips out as Taehyung jerks them off simultaneously.
The angle is awkward, and the slide is a bit dry, but the novelty of the sensation is enough to fray every one of Taehyung’s nerves. He’s dizzy from Jungkook’s breathy sounds, his warmth, the closeness of their bodies, and the way Taehyung could completely get lost in him – drunk or not.
Pulling Taehyung from his thoughts, Jungkook leans forward and lets a stream of saliva drop between them.
“Jesus Christ, Jungkook,” Taehyung curses, his face aflame with heated embarrassment as he uses the extra lubrication to improve the glide of his hand over their cocks. Maybe he’s not having a total mental breakdown, but he’s nervous as fuck. It’s weird because Taehyung is always so good at sex.
This isn’t sex, though, he reminds himself. He and Jungkook are not having sex right now.
“What?” Jungkook’s cheeky smile shouldn’t be as endearing as it is, especially for what they’re doing.
“I don’t know; warn me next time?”
Jungkook bites his lip, and Taehyung doesn’t pick up on the fact that he has just confirmed to Jungkook that there will be a next time.
“Maybe,” Jungkook says smugly, the end of the word dissolving into a moan when Taehyung twists his wrist.
Taehyung rubs his free hand along Jungkook’s abdomen, appreciating how flat and toned his stomach is. He can feel the tension of his muscles as they flex every time Taehyung squeezes the head of Jungkook’s cock. Maybe he’s actually kind of good at this shit. Who would have thought?
“Tae, oh fuck,” Jungkook whimpers. His head slides forward until his face presses into the crook of Taehyung’s neck.
“I got you; it’s okay. Hyung’s got you.”
The glide of Jungkook’s cock against Taehyung’s is smooth and warm. At this point, he doesn’t even need more spit to help; they’re both wet enough on their own.
Jungkook begins to thrust into Taehyung’s hand frantically. “Taehyung, h-hyung, please.”
“Yeah?” Taehyung groans.
He squeezes Jungkook’s waist with his free hand and uses his hold to press Jungkook firmly against the door. It’s easier to jerk them off if Jungkook stays still, but that’s proving difficult for him.
Jungkook throws one arm around Taehyung’s neck and digs his fingers into the back of his shirt. He tugs on the fabric so tightly that Taehyung worries he might rip it, but Taehyung doesn’t let up as he pumps his fist along their cocks.
“Tae-ah, ah, ahh.”
Jungkook buries his face in the crook of Taehyung’s neck even deeper. Taehyung can feel Jungkook’s opened lips press against him, turning the skin on his neck hot and moist from his breath.
“Tae, I’m gonna, gonna come,” Jungkook cries. It’s muffled against Taehyung’s skin, but Taehyung knows.
He can feel Jungkook pulse before warmth oozes between Taehyung’s fingers. It makes his movements even slicker, heightening the feeling for himself as he continues fisting their cocks together. Jungkook wiggles in Taehyung’s grasp from the overstimulation, eventually pulling away right when Taehyung throws his head back.
Taehyung’s mouth falls open in a silent moan as he finishes himself off with his eyes squeezed shut. As he comes, Jungkook holds the side of his face, sliding his palm up so his fingers can brush Taehyung’s bangs away from his sweaty forehead.
“You’re pretty, hyung,” Jungkook whispers, and Taehyung makes a choked sound.
“T-thanks,” he stutters. “You too, Koo.”
Jungkook runs his thumb along the apple of Taehyung’s cheek and gives him a small smile. The soft gesture threatens to push Taehyung over the edge emotionally, and he suddenly feels like he might start crying.
“Jungkook,” he begins to speak without knowing where he’s trying to go, still caught up in how Jungkook’s eyes sparkle and his lips are bitten, swollen, and red.
Before either of them can say more, Jungkook’s body trembles from the vibration of someone pounding on the other side of the door.
“Jungkookie! Taehyung-ah! We’re going out for burgers!”
Seokjin’s shouting snaps Taehyung out of the postcoital trance Jungkook managed to put him in. Blinking, he stares down at the mess he and Jungkook have made all over his black t-shirt.
“Get your asses out here right now!” Seokjin hollers, banging on the door again. It’s entirely too late for him to be making so much noise, but from the sound of his voice, he’s a bit tipsy, too.
“We’re coming, hyung!” Jungkook shouts back, and Taehyung tries not to think about how true that statement is. They definitely did come. All over the fucking place.
The fear of Seokjin busting through the door throws Taehyung and Jungkook into action. Taehyung rips his shirt off and uses it to clean them up. It’s rushed aftercare, which is what Taehyung is used to, but something feels wrong about scrambling to get fresh clothes on with very few words passing between the two of them aside from an occasional, “Here, let me fix your hair,” and, “Use my cologne; you smell like sweat.”
They didn’t have sex, though, so it’s okay. Jerking someone off isn’t sex. It was a release for pent-up energy, just like Jungkook said.
Catching sight of himself in the mirror, Taehyung is surprised by his lively appearance. He’s still a little drunk, but his eyes are clear. There’s a small red patch of skin like a flower in bloom in the crook of his neck. When Taehyung tugs down on the collar of his new t-shirt to inspect the mark, he meets Jungkook’s eyes through the mirror.
“Oops,” Jungkook says with a smirk, making Taehyung’s stomach swoop. With his hand on the doorknob, Jungkook leans into the doorway and looks like the epitome of comfort. “Come on, hyung. Let’s go.”
Taehyung would be a liar if he said he didn't do whatever Jungkook wanted him to do.
Black Swan, an up-and-coming alternative metal rock band, is going on its first official tour. Jungkook looks forward to proving himself in a cutthroat industry, and Taehyung looks forward to the groupies. Neither expects to find the comfort their hearts truly desire in one another.
Pairing: Drummer Taehyung x Singer Jungkook
Rating: Explicit
Genre/Trope: Rock band au, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, smut, fluff
Content Warning: This story explores topics that may be difficult for some readers, including alcoholism recovery, past child abuse (not described in detail), homophobia, and sexuality questioning/exploration. Please be mindful of this as you read the story. The angst isn’t super heavy, but it’s there.
A/N: I have worked so fucking hard on this fic for literal YEARS. I took a year-long break from it cuz I just... idk, I just love it so much that I want it to be perfect, and my perfection trips me up. My goal is to finish it as soon as possible, definitely before the end of the year. I hope you love my emo boys!
♡ Series playlist
♡ Taehyung's top 2000s hits
♡ Jungkook's top 2000s hits
♡ Black Swan's Spine Breaker Fest setlist
*The number of chapters is TBD, but estimated to be around 14.
Chapter 1: Sophomore Slump Or Comeback Of The Year
Chapter 2: Where Is Your Boy
Chapter 3: Thnks fr th Mmrs
▪️ Release Date: June 18
Chapter 4: A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me
▪️ Release Date: June 25
Chapter 5: Sugar We’re Goin Down
▪️ Release Date: July 2
Chapter 6: America's Suitehearts
▪️ Release Date: July 9
Chapter 7: The Carpal Tunnel Of Love
▪️ Release Date: July 16
Chapter 8: I'm Like a Lawyer with the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off
au in which chris and smart!reader just can’t escape each other. and chris takes it as a sign the universe is telling him to fuck her out of his system.
⋆˚࿔ you met on a state high school academic competition. where chris’ team lost to your team.
⋆˚࿔ later when you tried to introduce yourself at the after party some kid threw, you found him making out with a random blonde girl and turned around immediately.
⋆˚࿔ chris thought you were cute, with your hair sleeked back in a neat ponytail, perfectly manicured nails and knee high socks. of course, he was 15 and hormonal too. obviously he noticed the way your white button-up shirt stretched across your chest and how short your skirt was.
⋆˚࿔ next time, your team lost… to chris’.
⋆˚࿔ years later, you ended up in the same university. coincidentally, both are majoring in something engineering-related.
⋆˚࿔ chris’ major is bioengineering, while yours is biomechanical engineering. (stem baddies yay)
⋆˚࿔ you officially met at party in his frat.
⋆˚࿔ you and chris immediately hated each other.
⋆˚࿔ ever since that first meeting, it was like you unlocked each other on campus. and suddenly, the other was just ??everywhere ???
⋆˚࿔ chris hates when you sit near him in class. he can’t concentrate. one moment he’s taking notes and the next, his eyes are drifting to look at you.
⋆˚࿔ you hate how effortlessly hot chris manages to look every. single. fucking. day. biochemistry and molecular biology lecture at 7 am? the motherfucker looks good. party on a school night? you can bet chris would slap on a backwards cap, black tshirt, loose jeans and whatever shoes and he would still look fine as fuck.
⋆˚࿔ his friends tease him about you. “fuck off” he mumbles as he exhales a cloud of white smoke. “don’t ever say that shit again.”
⋆˚࿔ “he’s always looking your way. im telling you, he’s either obsessed or just a freak” your friend tells you. you shake your head. chris hates you. “maybe he hates how bad he wants you because those are some fuck me eyes.”
I would grip Matt’s cock so hard with my pussy. I’m sorry I had to say that. But imagine just fucking taking him and then you’re feeling so free and good, so you decide to squeeze around him. This would make you feel so good but even more so because Matt wouldn’t know how to handle it. This fucker would be moaning and stuttering trying to smack your ass to get you to stop. I feel like this is how he would cum in you for the first time. Matt’s usually a “where do you want it?” guy but after feeling how tight you are….BOOM PREGNANT
Sending foul, disgusting anons really does not benefit anyone. You never know what someone’s last straw is. Be kind or be run over by a semi truck.
I’ve seen too many people receive horrible things today and I don’t fuck with that one bit. I suggest turning off anons for a bit, spreading the word, and making sure everyone is aware and safe of the current situation.
Pls spread the word! Reblog, comment, tag, make your own post, anything!!!
chris’ face contorted as he fucked into you at a slow, deliberate pace. his slender fingers held your chin between them, jaw slack at the feeing of your warm walls sucking him in greedily. his other hand cupped the back of your knee to press your bent leg to your chest, allowing him to thrust deeper inside, angling his dick to hit your g-spot just right.
“wanna- shiiitt,” chris began, cutting himself off with a groan when you clenched around him, making it a bit of a struggle to pull back, “gonna make me cum like that.”
you whimpered, brows knitted as you remained lying peacefully on his soft comforter, head pushing into his silk case-covered pillow just a bit more each time his pelvis hit your bare ass. the contact would make a soft clapping sound before he’d pull all the way back to his tip to repeat the same slow, deep stroke. “chris,” you called to him in desperation, words a bit distorted with the way his fingers restricted your jaw movement.
he hummed, nodding as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. “mhm… i know, i know,” he assured, the torturous pace unrelenting, “i wanna give you what you want, baby- fuh… i do. i needa take my time though, m’kay? don’t wanna let up so easy.”
the way chris’ eyes stayed trained on yours as he spoke, all while fucking your tight cunt the way he wanted, was enough to set your skin on fire. his face looked fucked out as he so clearly struggled not to just ram his cock into you relentlessly like he’d usually do, the slower his movements, the more sensitive and intimate it all felt.
author’s note. yea idk how i feel bout this… haven’t posted here yet tho so thought i’d at least put sumn out.
he settles between your legs, spread open for him on the bed — all for his taking as his lips linger over the sensitive skin of your thighs. teasing and tender kisses, muddled with soft praises about how good you felt, and how pretty you looked.
his teasing only seems to make you more desperate, gently rocking your hips upwards every time his tongue passes over your clit — wanting more than he was giving you.
“taste so good.” he murmurs, hands gripping your thighs as he passes his tongue over you, dipping into your wet heat just to taste more.
you whine out, threading your fingers through his hair in the hopes of bringing his face closer — pushing him into your pussy.
“so desperate baby.” he mumbles against you, a small smirk on his face as you simply whine, pulling him closer as your hips continue to grind forward. “fuckin’ needy.” he adds, pulling away to catch his breath as your fingers remained tangled in his hair, pulling at the roots.
“just— feels good.” you admit, sighing a little as he looks up at you, brows furrowed a little as he tries to read your face — like you had more to say.
“is this not enough?” he asks softly, peppering kisses along your thighs and over your pussy, merely touching you as he asks the question.
you let out a shaky breath, body burning hot from whatever had gotten you so worked up in the first place. “i-i… i don’t know.” you admit quietly.
he thinks for a second, lips brushing over you like he didn’t wanna stop despite having to talk. “hm. you want something else?” he asks suggestively, clearly suggesting his dick.
you think for a second, more frustrated than anything. “no— i dunno.” you sigh in defeat, unable to ignore the throb of your cunt — and the way your whole body felt on edge, craving a release.
“i want your mouth— just want…” you trail off, reaching down to run your thumb over his lip, so transfixed on the plushness of them — and honestly his entire face. something about it just made you want it.
his eyes bore up into yours as he lets your thumb rest on his bottom lip, gently parting them — but not enough to push your finger in. “tell me what you want.” he whispers, just wanting to make you feel good.
“your mouth.” you mumble back, transfixed on the way your thumb pressed into his lip, so soft and plump. “just… wanna do it.”
hir brows furrow slightly, fingers still resting on your pussy, mindlessly playing with it. “you wanna do it?” he clarifies, trying to understand what it is you wanted.
there’s a short silence as you continue to play with his lip, just trying to not think about how frustrated you were — or more rather how bad you felt for asking for more.
but then he shifts from between your legs, sitting up slightly as he pulls away from your touch. you watch as he moves, curious as to what he was doing as he sits beside you.
“what’re you doing?” you ask softly, worried he was annoyed or hurt by what you’d said. but it was quite the opposite as he smirks, tapping your thigh.
“sit on my face.” he murmurs, saying it so casually as if it didn’t have your stomach twisting with need and anticipation. “oh.” you swallow a little, slightly taken back by how four words had got you so incredibly worked up in a matter of seconds.
“oh?” he repeats back, questioning your reaction. “you don’t want to?” he taunts, not at all taken back by your response as he looks at you — seeing that look in your eyes that made him sure of the fact you wanted to.
that you needed to.
“i-i.” you try to find the words, but your body’s so hot, and you’re so desperate to just grasp the feeling — you can’t even think or try and speak rationally. you just need it.
“stop then, just get on.” he huffs, having heard enough of your hesitation and mumbling, or whatever it was that you were doing as he lays his head back on the pillow, waiting for you.
you think for a second before shifting to straddle his face, leaving a space between him and your pussy — hesitant on how you were meant to sit and how much weight you were meant to—
“jesus, just-“ he sighs, hands firmly gripping your hips to pull you down, closing the gap. you gasp a little, feeling his tongue dip into your folds immediately — lapping you up hungrily.
“ooh, f-fuck.” you whine, face scrunching up in pleasure as you hold onto the headboard, trying to keep your balance without putting all your weight down.
he groans against you, fingers digging into your skin to keep you there as you gasp out, body tensing from the feeling of his tongue passing over your clit — and the way you were holding yourself up.
“don’t.” he mumbles against you, lips brushing over your pussy as his eyes open to look up at you, a slightly frustrated look on his face. “don’t what?” you question quietly.
“don’t hover, you’re like fuckin’…” he grips your hips harder as he speaks, trying to tell you to sit on his face properly, and put all your weight on him.
you hold onto the headboard, letting your body relax and rest on him — slightly worried about suffocating him. he groans, kissing your folds before pulling his face back to run his thumb over your clit. “atta girl.”
before you can even respond, his lips are on you, sucking and licking at your clit as he quite literally eats you — unable to do anything but that with your pussy pushed up against his mouth.
“fuuck, god matt— i-i, mm.” you moan out, one hand moving down to grip his hair to stabalize yourself, looking down to see his eyes shut in concentration, brows furrowed as his jaw clenched each time he moved to go deeper into your heat.
and only when he lets out a guttural groan do you realise the way you’d been grinding your hips, so lost in the feeling you didn’t care — simply chasing your release so desperately.
“mmgh.” he groans beneath you again as you shift forward, his tongue dipping into your cunt as your clit nudged against the tip of his nose. “ahh, shiit.” you whine.
he doesn’t even care that he can hardly breathe, hands remaining on your thighs to keep you there — feeling the way your hips rock back and forth so perfectly to grind your needy cunt against his face.
in all honesty, his dick had never been harder. hearing the way you moan so freely, taking control of what you needed by using his face like this.
he fucking loved every second of it, drunk on the taste of you — and so content with his head stuffed between your thighs.
“oh g-god.” you grit out, moving quickly against his nose, not a care in the world as you grind your hips at the perfect angle — body buzzing with the repeated stimulation of his nose buried in your pussy — rubbing over your clit.
“fuck— gonna cum, o-oh fuuck.” you moan, body sticky with sweat as you keep going, fingers only gripping onto the roots of his hair harder to keep him beneath you.
he moans into you at your words, the thought of you coming all over his face enough to have his dick twitching in his pants — pumping out enough pre cum to soak through.
“fuck matt, ooh fuuck yess— ahh.” you completely fall apart above him, feeling your release in your entire body as he continues to flick his tongue over your sopping pussy. the only thing keeping you up being matts firm grip on your hips.
it takes a second for you to catch your breath, head resting against the headboard before you climb off with shaky legs — matt still trying to get a taste as his tongue flicks over your clit.
“oh my god.” you breathe out, melting into the bed below you as he lays in silence next to you. “that was so fucking hot.” he mumbles, staring up at the ceiling, arms behind his head as he licks the taste of you off his lips.
“yeah?” you smirk, still sweating but on such a rush you couldn’t help but be cocky.
he scoffs a little, head nodding down to his crotch. “few more minutes and i would’ve cum in my fuckin’ pants.” he admits, a little out of breath.
you can’t help but smile at the prospect, looking back up at his pretty face wishing you could’ve stayed there forever.
Hey I just wanted to let u know that the first link in ur Chris sturniolo materialist doesn’t work n I rlly wanted to read I hope u see this n fix it.THANK UUUUU
I think the author deactivated their account or something because i can’t find it 😫😫 this is a sad day for the chris girlies
