jairang

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[gimmethatagustd]

the shark-boy statue in taehyung’s apartment;

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[cutemothman]

okay now THIS is what i'm talking about

[gimmethatagustd]

ultra thin & extra sensitive | kth + jjk

It takes an impromptu trip to buy condoms for Jungkook to finally confess his feelings to Taehyung.

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: Friends with benefits, mutual pining, pwp, fluff, porn with feelings

Word Count: 4,557

Content Warning: Lots of making out, groping, car sex, anal sex, anal fingering, Taehyung is a cutie patootie, “What are we?” kind of angst

A/N: Initially, I had referred to this as a strange fic about condoms, but it’s really me being a hopeless romantic and making everyone Feel Things.

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t walk.”

Jungkook smirks as Taehyung whimpers and tosses back his pretty blonde head. Jungkook has him pressed to the wall with one of his legs hiked up and hooked over Jungkook’s hip, opening him up so Jungkook can grind their clothed cocks together.

They’re both hard, Taehyung in his straight-leg jeans and Jungkook in light gray sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. Not that Taehyung needs to imagine what Jungkook’s cock looks like; he’s seen Jungkook naked plenty of times in the few months they’ve been hooking up.

Although the foyer of Taehyung’s apartment is dark, the moon casts enough light through the windows to illuminate the men as they rut against each other. It’s Jungkook’s first time here, but he’s too preoccupied to look around.

Despite their familiarity with each other, Taehyung is still shy around Jungkook. He squeezes his eyes shut when Jungkook sucks hickeys against his throat as though he’s afraid to see how devoutly Jungkook wants to devour him, chin tilted to the ceiling, and pretty pink lips parted so more whimpers can slip from them. A blush spreads across Taehyung’s cheeks like spring tulips in bloom, and Jungkook wonders how he possibly got so lucky to have something so sweet.

Jungkook nips at the curve of Taehyung's ear, and Taehyung curls his long, pretty fingers around Jungkook’s shoulders to hold himself up. Taehyung’s innocence makes Jungkook want to bite into him even deeper.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook whispers hoarsely.

“Hmm…?”

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

A breathy whine is Taehyung’s response, and even though it isn’t what Jungkook is looking for, he quietly laughs under his breath.

“You’re so fucking cute, you know that?”

“I’m not,” Taehyung protests with a gentle sigh. It isn’t true, but Jungkook leaves him be.

Jungkook lets go of Taehyung’s thigh to work on unbuttoning his jeans. Once they’re unzipped, he glides one of his hands inside Taehyung’s jeans to palm his ass over his briefs. Using his other hand, he loosens Taehyung’s fingers from his shoulder. He brings Taehyung’s hand to the back of his neck and slowly slides it upward until their intertwined fingers slip through Jungkook’s hair. Curling his fingers, he forces Taehyung to grip his hair and lets out a satisfied groan when Taehyung experimentally tugs on the dark strands.

“Anyone ever fucked you like this?” Jungkook asks in between hickeys sucked along Taehyung’s neck, leading up to the corner of his jaw. “Up against the wall?”

“No,” Taehyung sighs against Jungkook’s lips when he kisses him.

Taehyung’s answer doesn’t surprise Jungkook. Everything they’ve done has been pretty tame, mainly because Taehyung has little experience. Although Jungkook isn’t the type to get off on corruption, there’s no denying how his cock twitches when Taehyung trembles from his touch like it’s the first time he’s been held and kissed.

Jungkook sucks Taehyung’s bottom lip into his mouth and tugs gently, pulling back far enough for Taehyung to chase his mouth. When Taehyung pouts in frustration, Jungkook laughs.

“Stop teasing me.” Taehyung finally opens his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks deepens when he locks eyes with Jungkook.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be nice,” Jungkook promises with a shadow obscuring half his devilish expression.

Surging forward, Jungkook captures Taehyung’s lips again, shoving his tongue in his mouth to swirl it around Taehyung’s. Taehyung’s whimpering gets louder, and Jungkook groans into the kiss. He grinds their hips together even harder, spurred on by how vocal Taehyung is.

“Where are your condoms?” Jungkook asks in a breathy voice. He’s somewhat shocked by how worked up he is with just a bit of kissing and groping.

Their lips lightly brush against each other as they pant, chests heaving in tandem. Taehyung has to clear his throat before he can properly speak.

“What?”

“Your condoms?” It’s Jungkook’s turn to whine. He presses his forehead against Taehyung’s and tries to calm himself down. “You don’t get it, Tae, I need to fuck you so badly. I’ll get them for you. Are they in your bedroom?”

“I… I don’t have any condoms,” Taehyung admits meekly, turning his head to the side to force Jungkook to pull back. “I thought you had some. Y’know, in your wallet or something.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook tips his head back and lets out a drawn-out groan. “God fucking damn it, Taehyung. Why don’t you?”

“I don’t know! We always go over to your apartment; why would I need any here?”

If Jungkook wasn’t uncomfortably hard, he would find it sweet that Taehyung only associates needing condoms with being with Jungkook, meaning he clearly isn’t bringing home anyone else to fuck him. It makes Jungkook’s chest swell, knowing he’s the only one who gets to have Taehyung like this, all pink in the face and disheveled, pretty fingers tangled in his hair and cocks pressed together.

But Jungkook is uncomfortably hard and doesn’t have the patience for this.

“Let’s go.” He shoves his hand down his pants to adjust his cock. There doesn’t appear to be any precum stains on the front, but Jungkook is beyond caring.

“Go where?” Taehyung stumbles forward when Jungkook steps back and releases his grip from Taehyung’s waist.

“To the store to get condoms.”

“W-What? Right now?”

Jungkook looks up at Taehyung as he stomps his feet into his boots.

“Yes, Tae, right now.”

“But, we could just…”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows and stands with his arms against his chest, waiting.

“I could suck you off?”

“Taehyung,” Jungkook sighs and pulls him over to zip up his jeans for him, “I don’t want you to suck me off. I want to fuck you. So, please, put your shoes on so we can go to the store before I start crying.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but a small smile plays on his lips as he slips into his shoes. They’re all-white Converse with the backs smashed in from how many times he’s walked around without entirely putting them on. Nearly all of Taehyung’s shoes look like that. Jungkook finds it rather ridiculous, but it’s somehow also endearing. 

Much of what Taehyung does is endearing. For example, he lingers in the doorway with Jungkook’s car keys hooked around one of his fingers and his mini leather backpack slung over one shoulder, even though a box of condoms is small enough for Jungkook to carry in his hand. The flush on his face has lessened, and he runs his pretty fingers through his hair to flatten it down. Jungkook enjoys looking at him when he’s put together or ruined. 

Outside, the air is thick with humidity from a hot summer rain earlier in the day. This frizzes Taehyung’s hair and dampens Jungkook’s upper lip with perspiration. The weather does nothing to calm the heat building in Jungkook’s groin. 

Driving isn’t necessary when the closest 24-hour convenience store isn’t very far away, but Jungkook isn’t interested in getting sweatier than he already is from the short walk from Taehyung’s apartment complex to Jungkook’s parked car.

“Do you like me that much? That you’d go to the store in the middle of the night when it’s so gross outside just because you want to fuck me?” 

Taehyung looks at Jungkook curiously, his head slightly cocked to the side and his hands in his back pockets. 

Do you like me that much?

Their relationship is about more than just a good fuck, but Jungkook is afraid to say it, and Taehyung is afraid to directly ask. Instead, he skirts around the question, asking others that are parallel but never intersect the way they should if either man wants to be honest. 

Instead of answering, Jungkook grabs the strap of Taehyung’s backpack to yank him into a bruising kiss that hopefully tells him everything Jungkook wants to say but can’t.

When they finally reach Jungkook’s car, he holds the door open for Taehyung like a proper gentleman because Taehyung is sweet and soft and deserves the gentlest side of Jungkook, even if Jungkook likes being a little mean when they fuck. 

“AUX?” Taehyung asks, already twirling the cord between his fingers once Jungkook slides into the driver’s seat. When Jungkook gives him the okay, he chooses a playlist that Jungkook recognizes after two songs. 

“Y'know, I’ve got a Pavlovian response to our sex playlist,” Jungkook comments. He briefly looks at Taehyung before returning his eyes to the relatively empty road as he drives. 

“What happens to you?” Taehyung asks like he knows the answer already.

“My dick automatically gets hard.” 

“No, it doesn’t!” Taehyung brings his hand up his mouth when he laughs, his lips brushing against the back of it.  

“Yes, it does. Want to check if I’m lying?”

Taehyung scoffs, but it only takes a few seconds before he’s palming Jungkook’s thigh. He’s hesitant when he does it and slow once he slides his hand between Jungkook’s thighs to gently squeeze his hard cock. 

Taehyung’s next exhale is audibly shaky, and Jungkook grins but doesn’t look away from the road again. 

They’re silent the rest of the short drive, Jungkook thinking about Taehyung’s hand on his cock and Taehyung lost in thought while he watches the city lights through the window and nibbles his bottom lip. It’s cute how flustered Taehyung gets, even when he does it to himself. 

The embarrassment even follows Taehyung into the store. He tries to avoid standing in the aisle where condoms and other sex-related products are, but Jungkook insists that he helps choose which brand to get. 

“What kind do you like? These are the ones I get, but if you want something else, we can try it out,” Jungkook says with a tap of his finger on the box he usually buys – ultra-thin and extra sensitive because he likes feeling as much of Taehyung as he can. 

Taehyung skeptically eyes the boxes. He picks up one that boasts a pleasurable texture of ribs and dots on the outside of the condom. 

“Does it really make a difference?” 

Jungkook scrunches his nose and takes the box from Taehyung to return it to the shelf. 

“Everyone I’ve hooked up with has said textured condoms are too thick and don’t feel like anything, or they hurt.” 

Taehyung looks away quickly, but Jungkook notices how his expression falls into something sad, and he knows he’s fucked up. 

“Tae–” 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to bore you by doing the things you’ve already done with everyone else,” Taehyung says curtly. He reaches for a seemingly random box and turns on his heel. 

Groaning, Jungkook grabs a bottle of lube and his usual condom brand and follows Taehyung down the aisle. 

“Tae.” 

“Let’s just go.” 

Grabbing Taehyung’s forearm, Jungkook tries to turn him around to face him, but Taehyung yanks his arm out of Jungkooks hold. He watches Taehyung claim one of the self-checkout registers. The force with which Taehyung jabs the touchscreen to select his payment once he scans the lube and two condom boxes is concerning for his index finger, as is how violently he shoves the items into his mini backpack. 

“You should have let me pay for them,” Jungkook says quietly once he’s caught up with Taehyung, falling in line with him as they exit the store and walk toward the back of the parking lot. It’s late enough that only a handful of other cars are in the lot, most likely the employees’. 

“Why? Do you buy condoms for everyone else?” Taehyung snaps as he squeezes the car door’s handle. 

Frustrated with the sour turn their night has taken, Jungkook covers Taehyung’s hand on the handle with his own and crowds Taehyung against the side of the car. A ball of anxiety sinks to the pit of his stomach when Taehyung refuses to look him in the eyes, and Jungkook realizes he’s never considered what it would be like to no longer have Taehyung in his life. He has taken advantage of how dependable Taehyung is, knowing he’ll always be there when Jungkook needs him. 

Eventually, people grow tired. Jungkook can see that weariness and wariness in Taehyung’s eyes. 

“I bought condoms for everyone else,” Jungkook admits quietly. When Taehyung scoffs, he pushes on, “But I buy condoms for you.”

It’s a horrible way to tell a guy that he likes him, but Jungkook is the first to admit that he’s terrible at this shit. Swallowing a lump in his throat and rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants isn’t enough to calm himself down, but Taehyung’s glare hurts more than the anxious ache in his stomach. 

“There isn’t an everyone else, Tae,” Jungkook’s nearly pleading as he tilts his head to follow Taehyung’s gaze when Taehyung tries to look away. “It’s only you. I swear on my life, it’s just you.” 

“Really?” Taehyung’s eyes are narrowed, and skepticism taints his pretty features, but Jungkook sees the vulnerability hidden behind the hard exterior Taehyung is so accustomed to crafting. 

“Yes,” Jungkook breathes as he leans forward to kiss Taehyung’s forehead. “You can, I don’t know, go through my phone. Read my texts and look at my photos. See that I deleted Grindr. Whatever proof you need.” 

Taehyung is silent for a few seconds. Jungkook keeps his lips lightly pressed to his forehead and breathes in the comforting scent of his peppermint and eucalyptus shampoo. He clings to that and finds it grounding when Taehyung’s following words shake him to his core. 

“I went on a date with someone,” Taehyung whispers and Jungkook feels his chest constrict. He tries to breathe slowly and lets his grip on Taehyung’s waist slacken slightly. 

“How,” Jungkook pauses to clear his throat, “How did it go?” 

He feels Taehyung shrug, but he keeps staring out into the empty parking lot. 

“Pretty good. He was nice and really cute. We went to lunch and a new art exhibit and then hung out at his place.” Taehyung’s voice is steady as he talks, but there’s an implication behind admitting that he went to this other man’s home. 

Jungkook feels like he’s suffocating. 

“He wasn’t you, though,” Taehyung whispers as he leans back slightly to look Jungkook in the eyes. “He was nice, but we didn’t click, I guess. He wasn’t thoughtful like you are. His jokes weren’t as funny and his music taste was horrible. And… he didn’t touch me like you do.” 

Jungkook bites at his lip piercing and tries to ignore the thunderous sound of his blood rushing to his head. He can’t stop the images that flood his head of some mystery man his imagination conjures for him, touching Taehyung, kissing Taehyung, fucking Taehyung. 

That mystery man wouldn’t know that Taehyung can cum untouched but isn’t fully satisfied unless he cums again with external help. He wouldn’t know that he needs to hold Taehyung after because he gets emotional sometimes, especially after a hard fuck. He wouldn’t know that Taehyung worries about being enough and how important it is to affirm him during sex. 

“You don’t need to look for what you need in someone else,” Jungkook murmurs as he runs his hands up and down Taehyung’s sides. 

Taehyung leans in to whisper against the corner of Jungkook’s mouth, “I need you.” 

The kiss Jungkook pulls Taehyung into is frantic and rougher than how Jungkook usually kisses him. He buries one hand in Taehyung’s silky hair and grabs Taehyung’s hip with the other, pushing him against the car so he can mold his body to Taehyung’s. He wants to feel every inch of Taehyung’s body on his, to know that he has all of Taehyung, just him and no one else. 

Jungkook loves Taehyung. 

He has known it for a long time, but he stamps the truth so deeply inside himself that sometimes he convinces himself that he’s forgotten. But then, in moments like this, when Jungkook is flinging the car door open and crawling over Taehyung’s body as they climb into the backseat, Jungkook is forced to acknowledge the swell of love he feels when Taehyung stares up at him with such a tender expression. Taehyung’s face disappears momentarily, obscured by his t-shirt when he pulls it off and tosses it onto the floor. He slips his hands beneath Jungkook’s shirt and runs his palms up his toned abdomen, stopping when he reaches his pecs to flick his thumbs over his nipples.

“Take this off, please,” Taehyung asks sweetly, and Jungkook is a goner. 

The back of the car is cramped, and two grown men trying to maneuver on the narrow seat is more than what the space is made for. They make it work with Taehyung lying on his stomach, his jeans pulled down around his knees. He keeps his legs together so Jungkook can straddle his thighs, one of Jungkook’s legs slipping off the seat and forcing him to half-kneel, half-stand. It’s an awkward position, but Taehyung seems comfortable with their shirts balled up under his lower stomach to lift his hips and his crossed beneath his head, and that’s all Jungkook really cares about. 

“Taehyung,” Jungkook whines when he pulls out the random box of condoms from Taehyung’s backpack. “You bought the fucking fire and ice ones. These things will genuinely light my dick on fire.” 

Taehyung snorts and turns his head to the side to get a better look at Jungkook. 

“I don’t know. I just grabbed it because the colors on the box were pretty.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook tosses the box onto the floor and pulls out his preferred brand, tried and true. Setting it to the side, he opens the new bottle of lube and squirts some onto his fingers. 

Jungkook assumes the fit will be tight due to Taehyung’s position since his legs are pushed together, but Jungkook is patient. He holds Taehyung open with one hand and rubs his lubed-up fingers against his rim. 

Taehyung groans into the crook of his elbow and squirms from the cold lube, but he can’t move with Jungkook’s body weight on him. 

 “Stay still,” Jungkook murmurs with a light squeeze of Taehyung’s cheek. 

The satisfaction of getting a reaction out of Taehyung dissolves when Jungkook easily slips his finger past his rim. With a shaky breath, Jungkook pulls out and adds another finger without resistance. 

Taehyung never said when he went on the date, but he’s stretched enough that Jungkook massages his prostate with three fingers after only minimal stretching. He spends some time tapping and swirling his fingertips around his walls until Taehyung tries pushing against Jungkook’s fingers. 

“Jungkook, please,” Taehyung whimpers, and something snaps inside Jungkook. 

“Jagiya,” Jungkook rarely uses the pet name, but he knows it makes Taehyung quiver when he does. “Say my name again, jagi.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung moans when Jungkook speeds up his fingers. 

The sound of his palm smacking against Taehyung’s asscheek and the squelch of lube harmonizes with Taehyung’s breathy chant of Jungkook’s name. He leans forward until his chest is pressed against Taehyung’s back, and his teeth can graze against the curve of Taehyung’s ear. 

“You said he didn’t touch you like I do,” Jungkook repeats and lets out a slight hum when Taehyung nods. “Tell me what you like about how I touch you.” 

When Jungkook pulls away, he leaves kisses across Taehyung’s shoulders and down his spine. 

“You touch me like I’m special,” Taehyung says softly, his statement punctuated by a quiet whimper when Jungkook pulls his fingers out of him. 

“What else?” Jungkook asks before tearing a condom package with his teeth. 

“You’re gentle, and you actually care about how I feel. I can trust you,” Taehyung’s voice cracks when Jungkook spreads his cheeks to finally sink his cock into him in one slow but smooth thrust. 

Planting one hand on the seat beside Taehyung’s waist and grabbing Taehyung’s waist with the other to press him into the seat, Jungkook leans forward and grinds his pelvis against Taehyung’s ass. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook grunts, “Am I too heavy on you?” 

Taehyung shakes his head and reaches down to adjust his cock so it rubs against the seat at a comfortable angle every time Jungkook thrusts into him.  

Despite being adequately stretched, the position makes Taehyung’s grip on Jungkook’s cock hot and tight. They’ve never fucked like this, with Jungkook straddling Taehyung’s thighs. Even though Jungkook can’t reach as deep as he likes to, the tight heat and softness of Taehyung’s ass, as well as the intimacy of having to hover over Taehyung, makes up for it. 

“Feels really good,” Taehyung says softly, his eyes scrunched shut. “You’re right there.” 

Jungkook knows what that means. He maintains the current angle of his hips when he thrusts into Taehyung again, the head of his cock hitting Taehyung’s prostate directly. 

“Yes, fuck, Jungkook, stay there.” 

Taehyung’s moans are pretty, so deep and airy that they seem to whisper a secret meant only for Jungkook. Jungkook should be the only one who gets to hear Taehyung like this. His heart yearns to call Taehyung his own, to be the person Taehyung can go to for support, to give him affection freely without feeling as though this is all just temporary. 

It’s why the sex is so good, Jungkook thinks as he picks up the pace, fucking Taehyung just the way he likes it. The pace is hard and fast because Jungkook needs this. He needs to be as close to Taehyung as he possibly can and needs to mold himself until they become one, two halves making a whole. He needs to hear Taehyung moan his name when he’s on the verge of tears because Jungkook fucks into him relentlessly and latches his lips to every inch of bare skin to leave his mark so Jungkook can’t look at Taehyung without remembering that he yearns. 

“Can you cum like this?” Jungkook leans down to murmur in Taehyung’s ear, drawing a string of expletives out of Taehyung that are moaned so quietly that Jungkook can hardly make them out. 

“Y-Yeah, yeah.” 

“Gonna cum on my cock, jagiya? Let me feel how good I am to you?” 

Dirty talk embarrasses Taehyung, but Jungkook knows it turns him on anyway. 

“I will, I will.” 

Taehyung lifts his chin so Jungkook can kiss him. It’s sideways, and Taehyung keeps rocking up and down across the seat from each smack of Jungkook’s body against his, but it feels good to taste Taehyung while he’s inside of him. 

Another thing Jungkook knows about Taehyung is that he likes to stretch out. It’s like he builds up tension inside of him, then curls into himself when he cums. It reminds Jungkook of a cat stretching after a long nap. Taehyung doesn’t have much room to do that in Jungkook’s car, but he reaches his arms above his head to grab the edge of the seat and hold himself in place as Jungkook fucks him. 

Intertwining their fingers, Jungkook brings one of Taehyung’s arms behind him, bending it at the elbow so his hand rests at the small of his back. Jungkook keeps holding his hand, even when Taehyung starts squeezing it and digging his nails into his skin hard enough to hurt. 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung gasps with one particularly hard thrust. “A little faster, please. I’m close.” 

“God, you’re so cute, I love you so fucking much.” 

The confession is so natural that it slips out without Jungkook even realizing it. The reality doesn’t sink in until he hears Taehyung moan, this time with a higher pitch and whinier, a sound Jungkook has never heard from him before. It sounds broken and desperate. 

Surprisingly, Jungkook doesn’t feel the anxiety he thought he would when he considered eventually confessing. Perhaps because it is natural, something that should have happened so long ago. 

Jungkook gives Taehyung what he wants, making sure not to hold him down too hard so he can move his hips to meet Jungkook’s thrusts, further stimulating his cock trapped between his body at the seat. It doesn’t matter that Jungkook’s seats are black. When Taehyung cums with a wet, sputtering sob as tears stream down his cheeks, Jungkook knows nothing matters except him making Taehyung feel good. 

Pulling out, Jungkook rips the condom off and sits back on Taehyung’s thighs as he pumps his cock. His orgasm hits him so hard that he’s silent, only uttering a small groan when the last of his cum spurts on Taehyung’s ass.

“Shit,” Jungkook sighs, throwing his head back and taking a deep breath. 

The car windows are so foggy that condensation drips down them, creating streaks that expose the city's lights around them. The air inside the car is muggy, smelling of sweat and cum. Jungkook may be weird, but he likes the smell of sex when it’s with Taehyung. Maybe he’s that pathetically whipped for Taehyung. If he is, he doesn’t care.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung calls hoarsely, lifting up the top half of his body so he’s resting on his elbows. “Can you clean me up?” 

He’s shy when he asks, and Jungkook wonders if he’ll grow out of it. It wouldn’t matter to him, though. Jungkook loves Taehyung regardless of if he’s afraid to say cum or not.

In the front console is a disorganized stack of napkins Jungkook has collected from eating fast food far too many times. He grabs a handful of them to clean Taehyung up and is acutely aware of Taehyung watching his every move. It’s nerve-wracking because Jungkook knows what Taehyung is thinking about and thinks he knows what Taehyung will say. It will be exactly what Jungkook hopes for, yet he’s still scared. 

The two men watch each other get dressed and exchange shy smiles when Jungkook smacks his head on the ceiling, and Taehyung accidentally crushes the box of fire and ice condoms. Jungkook feels like a teenager sneaking out of the house to hook up with his high school sweetheart, parked somewhere they shouldn’t be. He can’t believe he’s well into his twenties and just had sex in a grocery store parking lot. 

“Do you only love me during sex? Or all the time?” Taehyung finally asks once he and the seat have been cleaned up as best as Jungkook can, and they both are fully clothed. 

“All the time,” Jungkook confesses with Taehyung sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs and draping his arms over his shoulders. 

“Did you say it because of my date?” 

Jungkook runs his hands along Taehyung’s sides and takes his time to think about the question. It’s a valid one, but Jungkook doesn’t like the implications. 

“I loved you before the date.” It’s an easy answer to give. 

Taehyung runs his pretty fingers through Jungkook’s hair and kisses his forehead. 

“I went on the date because I love you, and I thought you wouldn’t want to commit to being with me,” Taehyung presses his face into the crook of Jungkook’s neck and breathes him in, sweaty skin and all. “I fucked myself over, though. I left the date loving you more.” 

Jungkook never planned for Taehyung to enter his life and completely turn it upside down, but as he holds the back of Taehyung’s head and wraps his arm around his waist to keep him against his chest, Jungkook’s thankful for the part of him that gave himself permission to love. 

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap @remmykinsff

[gimmethatagustd]

you can play pretend | kth + jjk

Very few people know much about fashion model Kim Taehyung aside from the rumors that circulate in the media. Even his new bodyguard, Jungkook, hasn't learned not to judge a book by its cover.

Pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: Bodyguard/model au, pwp

Word Count: 6,485

Content Warning: Social commentary on queer relationships, dom TH, sub JK, power dynamics, blow job, bathroom sex, anal fingering, anal sex, spit as lube, cock stepping (don't look at me), Taehyung is bad at feelings

A/N: Happy Pride~ Here come my kinky gay fics. (Or at least what I think Tumblr can handle jshdfks. We've forgotten the ancient texts actually.) Also, yes, I knowww Seokjin's birthday isn't during the summer, but it fit the story

Soundtrack: Baby - Charli XCX

“Taehyung-ssi! Look this way! Here, look here!”

“Taehyung-ssi, is it true that you plan to pursue film roles in the near future?”

“Give us a pose, Taehyung-ssi!”

“TAEHYUNGIE, MARRY ME!”

Blinding camera lights flash in every direction, illuminating the night with explosions of white.

Taehyung has just barely slipped out of the all-black car with tinted windows pulled up to the curb of an expensive hotel in Seoul's Gangnam district.

It’s a warm night, the summer heat heavy in the still air. Taehyung isn’t particularly interested in standing outside any longer than he needs to. Contrary to what the media may lead you to believe, rich people do sweat, and Taehyung is wearing skintight leather pants and a black blouse heavy with gold adornments. It might not be the best outfit for the weather, but he’s willing to suffer if it means he’ll look good.

Though he always looks good.

Hence the group of photographers lining the sidewalk, using everything from professional cameras to their cellphones to snap the perfect picture of the Kim Taehyung on his way to his agent’s birthday party.

Clearly, someone tipped the paparazzi off about what was meant to be a low-profile gathering.

It was likely Jimin, Taehyung thinks as he puts on a dazzling smile just as bright white as the mini fireworks leaving black spots in his vision. His best friend and coworker has always had a penchant for the dramatics – even if it means inconveniencing his friends.

However, Seokjin will blow a fuse when he finds out. If he hasn’t already. Judging by the silence of Taehyung’s phone on the ride over, he doesn’t think shit has hit the fan quite yet.

It’s all harmless, really. Taehyung hardly minds the paparazzi; he’s accustomed to them. If anything, he thrives when lenses are pointed in his direction.

He’s one of Asia’s most sought-after models, after all. It isn’t just the flash of cameras that’s overwhelming. Taehyung has grown so accustomed to people referring to his beauty as blinding that he hardly registers the supposed compliment when spoken by people who merely want to get in his good graces. Or his bed, but that’s a whole other matter.

Regardless, Taehyung blossoms under the attention like a moonflower under the milky glow of the midnight moonlight.

It’s easy. A tilt of the chin, downward as to force a coy gaze through his blonde bangs, one shoulder shrugged up to force his collar bones to point more prominently. He parts his lips slightly, just enough to show the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner, followed by a quick swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip that leads to another heart-stopping smile. It's even better when he bites the tip of his tongue and lets it poke out between his teeth.

He ignores the paparazzi’s questions and fans’ marriage proposals and doesn’t bother saying anything at all. He knows he’s just a pretty face, snatched waist, and long legs. No one cares what comes out of his mouth except for those fans who go to Twitter to petition for him to start an ASMR channel. Even then, he is merely a sex symbol, something to fuel their impossible fantasies.

That’s perfectly fine with Taehyung. He likes to give people what they want. Working a crowd or even a photographer and his manager is exciting. More than once, photographers have praised him for how easy he is to work with. A certain level of power comes with being able to stir such emotions in another person with a simple look or singular word.

And Taehyung quite enjoys holding such power.

He brings his cupped hand to his face, creating a heart with the apple of his cheek. It’s a delicate dance, flirting with being both alluring and innocent enough to seem attainable.

“Taehyung-ssi, we should keep moving.”

A hand lightly presses against Taehyung’s lower back. He can feel the person’s warmth seep through his shirt. The added body heat makes his skin tingle.

“I told you, you can call me hyung, Jungkook,” Taehyung speaks with a smile, his sparkling eyes never straying from the group of paparazzi scattered along the sidewalk.

Jungkook exhales forcefully enough that Taehyung hears it over the clicking of the cameras. It makes Taehyung’s smile grow wider.

“May we continue this conversation indoors, Taehyung-ssi?”

With a nod, Taehyung finally leaves his spot by the car to head toward the hotel’s front entrance.

Unsurprisingly, the paparazzi don’t get out of his way. They choose this moment to swarm him, now close enough that Taehyung notices some of these people may actually be fans rather than official reporters or photographers.

He’s never been worried about sasaengs; what is a little fan delusion to him, really? Fans are fans. Taehyung has always waved the concerns away. Even Jungkook’s position as his bodyguard is rather ridiculous if you ask Taehyung. Hiring a full-time bodyguard was requested – no, demanded – by Seokjin after Taehyung’s address was leaked on some internet forum. The gifts he subsequently received in the mail were nothing to report on, but Seokjin always has something shoved up his ass.

“Taehyungie, can we take a picture?”

A young man rushes to Taehyung’s side as he takes long strides toward the hotel’s entrance. Taehyung can’t help but notice how tightly he’s clutching his phone, to the point that his hands are shaking.

Jungkook presses harder against Taehyung’s lower back, nearly causing the model to trip from the force. He subtly elbows Jungkook in the ribs in retaliation and turns his attention to the curious fan, ignoring the growing irritation from his bodyguard.

“As you can imagine, I’m late for my engagement, love,” Taehyung says sweetly, batting his eyelashes for good measure.

The fan – Taehyung assumes – is attractive, albeit a little shifty—no shame in that. Taehyung is a bit odd himself, at times, though that isn’t anything strangers or the media get to see. No, the outside world gets a well-manicured version of Taehyung. They get Korea’s It Boy, just the way he likes it.

“Wait, Taehyung-ssi!” the fan nearly shouts. “You don’t understand, I love you so much!”

The abruptness of his loud tone is startling, but Taehyung makes a living off of maintaining an unphased expression.

“I’m very sor–”

Interrupting Taehyung, the fan grabs his wrist and yanks.

This time, Taehyung really does trip. If it weren’t for Jungkook immediately planting himself between Taehyung and the fan, Taehyung would have fallen into the fan’s arms.

Using his forearm, Jungkook roughly shoves the fan in the chest.

“Do not touch him,” Jungkook growls.

The deep, assertive masculinity of Jungkook’s order makes Taehyung shiver, even as his nerves are shaken by the entire interaction.

“I suggest you all give Taehyung-ssi some room, or I will be forced to move you out of the way myself.”

Two security officers working for the hotel deal with the unruly fan, restraining him when he tries to charge at Taehyung again.

“Fucking bottom bitch-ass twink.”

Taehyung spins around to look at the fan over Jungkook’s shoulder even as Jungkook tries to hurry him into the hotel.

“What the hell did he just call me?”

“Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook murmurs a low warning, “We do not need to cause any more of a scene than what has already occurred.”

With a scoff, Taehyung finally allows Jungkook to usher him through the hotel’s rotating doors. Cool air blasts his face as he steps through the threshold, calming down the heat that spiked across his cheeks from the weather and irritation.

“I’m not a twink.”

Jungkook gives Taehyung a side look as they approach the elevators.

“Is that what’s concerning you? A fan attacks you, and you’re worried about name-calling?”

“Yes,” Taehyung sniffs, jamming his thumb against the elevator button to close the doors a bit too hard. “Nor am I a bottom.”

Jungkook makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. The sound flares frustrated heat in Taehyung’s chest again.

“Do you have something to say?” He whips his head around to look at Jungkook’s snarky expression head-on.

“It would be unprofessional for me to say.”

The elevators open to a wide hallway, across from which are the doors leading to the banquet hall where Seokjin’s party takes place. Music and the sound of laughter burst through the doors. If Seokjin knows how to do anything, it’s throwing an obnoxious party.

“No, I think you should say it,” Taehyung challenges, eyes focused on Jungkook even as he steps into the room.

“Say what?”

Summoned by the potential taste of drama, Jimin appears at Taehyung’s side, hovering near his elbow. Like Taehyung, Jimin is dressed in all black, though his boots have a higher heel. He shakes his head lightly, flicking pastel-pink bangs out of his eyes. He’s in the middle of his comeback promotions, so his appearance seems to change daily.

Taking a flute of champagne from one of the waiters servicing the room, Taehyung gives Jungkook an expectant look.

Jungkook clears his throat and admits, “I… would assume that Taehyung-ssi is a bottom.”

Jimin chokes on the champagne he swallows. A bit of it sprays onto Taehyung’s face, and he makes an exaggerated gagging sound as he pats the moisture away.

“Why are we discussing Taehyung’s bedroom preferences?” Jimin asks, but his eyes gleam enthusiastically rather than look offended, like his words might imply.

A few other guests hover near the trio, wanting to greet Taehyung or speak with Jimin, but they pay them no mind. There are more important matters to attend to.

“A fan assaulted Taehyung-ssi outside the entrance and called him some unpleasant things,” Jungkook says with a stern look that Taehyung knows is meant to chastise him.

“Jungkookie has only known me for a few months,” Taehyung explains to Jimin but keeps his eyes locked on Jungkook’s. “And, therefore, he knows very little.”

Giving Jungkook a dazzling smile and a pat on the cheek, Taehyung turns his attention to Jimin, who has chugged what is likely his third or fourth flute of champagne.

“You talk about being a bottom like it’s a bad thing,” Jimin accuses.

“Yes, well, we don’t all have an ass like yours, Jiminie.”

“That’s for damn sure.” A smug smile lifts Jimin’s lips around his champagne flute. “Would you care to dance with this fine piece of ass, Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung lets his eyes trail Jungkook’s rigid posture for a moment. The younger man has returned to the blank professionalism that irritates Taehyung to no end. So obedient and pliant, all for the sake of what?

Perhaps Taehyung should be more disturbed by the fan’s outrageous behavior. Perhaps he shouldn’t care about name-calling because stereotypes mean nothing, and perhaps he should be more concerned for his physical well-being.

This is Kim Taehyung, though. Infallible. Unshakeable.

So he gets his fill of Jungkook’s cold exterior and chooses to wave the whole thing off.

“You can stand down, Jungkook-ah. The only thing here that may kill me is this minx.”

Taehyung reaches out to lace his fingers with Jimin’s. When Jimin tugs him toward the dancefloor, Taehyung sends Jungkook a wink and a smile that has him pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

No matter how attractive Jungkook is, seeing him hover in Taehyung’s peripheral vision at every corner is just short of infuriating. He does not need to be nearly plastered to Taehyung’s back wherever he goes. What danger is he in? It isn’t as though threats have been made against him or something as ridiculous. Sure, he’s got some overzealous – and apparently rude – fans, so what? Jimin does, too, and no bodyguard is dampening his night.

With a long sigh, Taehyung twists to stare pointedly at Jungkook, who stands against the wall near the bar where Taehyung sits. He’s chatting with another guard, one Taehyung recognizes as Seokjin’s. His name is Yoongi or something like that; Taehyung doesn’t bother keeping up with unimportant matters.

He curls his index finger at Jungkook, beckoning him to the bar. At that moment, Seokjin slides into the barstool beside him.

“Two tequila shots,” Seokjin requests of the bartender. His eyes and teeth shine in the multicolored lights flashing in the room.

Everyone has been dancing and drinking for hours. Taehyung is pretty sure there are people here that Seokjin didn’t even invite.

“Having fun, Taehyungie?”

“Is it possible not to in the presence of such an animal?” Taehyung snickers, taking the shot glass Seokjin slides toward him. “Happy birthday, you bastard.”

“Isn’t it lovely that my parents decided to fuck?”

Taehyung holds the shot glass halfway to his mouth and snorts with laughter.

“I’ll drink to that.”

“No, you won’t.”

Jungkook snatches the shot glass out of Taehyung’s hand. He reaches over the bar counter to pour it out into the sink.

“Hey! I could have taken it,” Seokjin gripes. “I’m the birthday boy.”

Ignoring Seokjin’s protests, Taehyung glares at Jungkook and hates that he stares right back.

“What the fuck?”

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Jungkook states calmly.

“I had one alcoholic drink tonight. I don’t even like to drink, and you would know that if you actually paid attention instead of being paranoid all the time and listening to whatever dumb shit you hear other people say about me.”

Taehyung’s irritation flares in his chest so hot that he feels it creep up his neck. It’s true; he isn’t drunk. A little buzzed, sure, but nothing that impairs his judgment. Jungkook is overbearing, and there is nothing Taehyung hates more than authority.

“This is your fault.” Taehyung spins around to glare at Seokjin, who quickly throws his hands up.

“I’m the birthday boy,” he repeats as he stands. “The birthday boy is going to go enjoy himself and not deal with whatever the fuck this is, goodbye.”

With his social buffer gone, Taehyung turns to Jungkook once again. Perhaps he’s being a bit of a diva; it wouldn’t be the first time, according to Jimin. And it wouldn’t be the last – this, Taehyung knows. Still, it doesn’t seem fair that Jungkook seems to have unearned and unreasonable control over Taehyung’s life.

“What are you, my babysitter?” Taehyung asks, unable to stop the snappy comments from rolling off his tongue.

Jungkook is undeterred, as usual.

“I am merely working to keep you safe, Taehyung-ssi.”

Sliding off the barstool, Taehyung wraps his large hand around Jungkook’s surprisingly small wrist and leads him out of the banquet hall. When anyone looks in their direction, Taehyung flashes them a pearly smile and does what he knows how to do best – fake it.

Out in the hallway, away from flashing lights and head-pounding music, Taehyung can get a good look at Jungkook. His eyes are doe-like and sparkly, even when the rest of his face seems impassive. The innocence of his eyes contrasts the metal pierced into his face and the hulk of his muscular body. Jeon Jungkook is full of contradictions that Taehyung hasn’t attempted to understand.

“Just because one fan got too close doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself, Jungkook.”

Taehyung refuses to back down, even when he realizes he has crowded Jungkook against the wall. Like this, he feels power similar to what he feels when he walks through a sea of flashing lights, except this time, the power has the potential for action behind it. It isn’t empty power; it has meaning to it.

“You’re correct, Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook says softly. “I apologize.”

They’re close now, too close. Taehyung can see the flecks of light brown in Jungkook’s dark eyes and thinks those little pieces must be what makes his eyes sparkle. He stares at the cute little mole that rests beneath Jungkook’s bottom lip and wonders how he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook calls out, but Taehyung is vibrating with power and need.

“Do you know that you’re infuriating?” Taehyung asks, ignoring Jungkook’s call. “Do you do it on purpose because it’s so fucking attractive on you, and you want to make my life hell?”

A flicker of a smirk makes the corners of Jungkook’s lips jump, but he quickly controls his face.

“I do not know what you mean, Taehyung-ssi.”

Taehyung steps closer and realizes belatedly that they’re both breathing far too heavily for people standing in place.

“You know exactly what I mean. Especially after your little comment earlier. What do you make of me, Jungkook-ah? Do you think I’m a slut? An industry whore?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows turn downward, though his mouth doesn’t frown.

“Of course not, but it is none of my business.”

“Just like me being a bottom is none of your business?”

Finally, Jungkook breaks eye contact. His eyes wander to a group of women giggling as they stumble from the bathroom across the hall into the party room.

“We shouldn’t be speaking like this out here where others may hear us,” Jungkook eventually answers but still doesn’t look Taehyung in the eyes. “It is unprofessional.”

Something in Taehyung snaps. It may be because of the arousal that has bubbled up in the pit of his stomach ever since Jungkook dealt with the aggressive fan or the simple fact that Taehyung has been plagued by an attractive yet irritating, unwanted bodyguard for months. Whatever the root cause, it doesn’t matter. Taehyung cannot stop himself from grabbing Jungkook by the collar and pulling him into a bruising kiss.

There are no fireworks. Taehyung doesn’t kick foot up in the air like a princess met with true love. But the embers in his chest are stroked enough to erupt into flames that consume him when the tip of Jungkook’s tongue brushes against his.

“Come with me,” Taehyung commands with a bite to Jungkook’s lips before stepping away. He doesn’t stop to check if Jungkook follows him into the men’s bathroom; he knows he will.

Once inside, Taehyung reaches up to bolt the door, locking it from the inside.

“Get on your knees, Jungkook.”

Dropping slowly, Jungkook follows his orders with a blank expression. The only thing that betrays how he feels is how pink his cheeks and the tips of his ears are.

Taehyung likes that Jungkook’s body betrays him. Jungkook can be as much a rule-following hardass as he wants to be, but Taehyung affects people. There is no denying the blood that rushes to his face nor the blood that rushes south.

“Oh,” Taehyung breathes, “Look what we have here.”

He nudges Jungkook’s crotch with the toe of his shoe. It’s a quick, gentle touch, nothing that could hurt or even be uncomfortable. But the action likely surprises Jungkook, for he flinches at the same time his hips jolt.

“Do you like it when I speak meanly to you, Jungkook-ah? Is that why you’re already hard?”

Jungkook is pretty on his knees in front of Taehyung. He looks up at him through long, curled eyelashes. Taehyung likes how he can make Jungkook’s doe eyes widen when he taps his hard cock with his shoe once again. Like before, the motion is quick and light. It’s also enough for Jungkook’s facade to begin to crack.

“Taehyung-ssi, I–”

“Ah, still with the formal language, Jungkookie?” Taehyung asks with an exaggerated pout. “Will you ever let go of professionalism?”

Reaching down, he runs the tip of his index finger against Jungkook’s jaw, starting at the soft spot beneath his ear, along the edge of his jaw, until he lightly taps the underside of his chin.

Without even needing Taehyung to tell him, Jungkook tilts his head back to expose his throat and maintains eye contact as he licks his lips.

“It would be unprofessional, Taehyung-ssi.”

Taehyung presses down on Jungkook’s clothed cock hard enough to draw a whimper out of him. The corners of Taehyung’s mouth twitch when Jungkook quickly grabs his ankle to stop him from applying more pressure.

“Is this not unprofessional?” Taehyung asks with a tilt of his head.

By now, Jungkook’s hairline shines with a thin sheen of sweat. The moisture weakens whatever product he uses to style his hair, and a few strands fall out of place against his forehead.

“I suppose – I suppose, yes,” he stutters when Taehyung presses down harder.

Whatever else he wants to say is drowned out by the guttural moan that rips through him. His fingers slip underneath the hem of Taehyung’s pants. His thumb caresses the smooth skin, even with his nails digging into Taehyung to hold onto something. The gentle motion contrasts nicely with how roughly Taehyung taps the toe of his shoe against his hard cock.

“Do you know what else would be unprofessional?”

Jungkook shakes his head. That isn’t good enough for Taehyung, though. If his loyal bodyguard wants to be professional, he should address him properly every time.

Grabbing the hair at the back of Jungkook’s head, he tugs until Jungkook’s head falls entirely backward.

“I need to hear you.”

“I don’t know what else would be unprofessional, Taehyung-ssi.”

Taehyung lets go of Jungkook’s hair and straightens his posture. He is silent for a moment, toying with the collection of thin gold bracelets adorning his delicate wrists. Much of Taehyung is delicate and dainty, even when his presence in a room is often described as larger-than-life. He returns his gaze to Jungkook and thinks Jungkook probably assumes that all of Taehyung is delicate and dainty, just like the other people who don’t take the time to get to know him– to understand him.

Jungkook squirms on his knees, most likely uncomfortable from his cock straining in his already tight dress pants. He looks good in his all-black outfit of slacks and a button-up. The red and black bomber jacket is the only bit of color. Taehyung always thought red suits Jungkook. It certainly pairs nicely with his hot ears and cheeks.

“It would be unprofessional for you to choke on my cock, Jungkook,” Taehyung finally offers. He doesn’t miss how sharply Jungkook inhales. “But I am hardly one for professionalism, as you already know.”

“I do know.” No one else is in the bathroom; Taehyung checked when they first entered. Still, Jungkook whispers.

“Then I ask you again: Will you let go of professionalism?”

For a moment, Taehyung thinks Jungkook will deny him. There was always the risk that he would, and Taehyung would finally have chased him off. At first, Taehyung didn’t care about the outcome; what would it matter if the bodyguard he didn’t want quit? Now, though, he has enjoyed having Jungkook to play with.

Jungkook clears his throat and stares directly into Taehyung’s eyes with an expression that makes something feral claw at Taehyung’s insides.

“I’ll let go.”

“Good boy,” Taehyung beams. “Very good.”

His deft fingers unbuckle his belt, letting the ends hang from their loops as he works on the button and zipper. Some news outlets will tell you that Kim Taehyung got on his knees to climb his way to the top of the modeling industry. It’s funny, considering Taehyung only ever has other people kneel for him.

Despite knowing his effect on other people, Taehyung is somewhat stunned by how quickly Jungkook unravels. He places his palms flat on his thighs and parts his lips slightly – so obedient and pliant like he is over his job, except this time, it’s Taehyung calling the shots.

“Wish you could see yourself, Jungkook,” Taehyung murmurs as he dips his thumbs into his waistband, pulling on his briefs enough to take his cock out. “Look so pretty on your knees.”

Jungkook openly stares at Taehyung as he lightly squeezes the head of his cock. He isn’t hard yet, but it won’t take much for him to get there if Jungkook keeps looking at him like that.

Taehyung’s cock is pretty, just like the rest of him. It isn’t arrogance; people have told him before. Thick enough to make the people he fucks babble about feeling full, long enough to hit the sweet spot inside them – Taehyung thinks he has the right to be smug as he strokes himself and watches Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, big boy,” Taehyung bites his lip and pauses for a moment when Jungkook blinks a few times as though he’d been in a trance. “Like what you see?”

“Yes, Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook rushes to speak. He swallows hard, throat bobbing and lips shining from running his tongue across them repeatedly.

With the hand that isn’t pumping his cock, Taehyung squeezes Jungkook’s jaw. His fingers dig into his skin, tilting his head slightly and coaxing his jaw to slacken. Such obedience gives Taehyung a surge of power through his veins, something electric and addicting. He wants to push Jungkook to see how much he can get away with.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” he commands, pressing his thumb to Jungkook’s bottom lip as Jungkook slowly opens up.

Leaning forward slightly, Taehyung spits into Jungkook’s mouth. It lands on his tongue and drips down his bottom lip, but he doesn’t move aside from fluttering his eyes.

“Don’t swallow yet.”

Jungkook moans in response, the sound high-pitched and breathy since he can’t close his mouth.

Semi-hard, Taehyung’s cock twitches when he grips the base and takes a step forward. His breath is caught in his throat as he slides the head of his cock onto Jungkook’s tongue, their spit mixing with the tiny amount of precum beading at the tip.

“Can you make me hard, Jungkookie?”

“Mhmm,” Jungkook moans around Taehyung’s cock as Taehyung gradually feeds it to him.

Jungkook suckles on the head, rubbing his tongue on the underside to stimulate the sensitive nerve endings there. He slurps as he sucks Taehyung’s cock into his mouth, the sound obscene and heightened when it echoes through the empty bathroom.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” Taehyung groans.

The wet heat makes Taehyung shiver, and his cock gradually hardens as Jungkook takes more of him down his throat. He lets Jungkook set the pace, even if it’s slow. Sometimes, Taehyung doesn’t mind that; honestly, it’s sweet. Taehyung criticized Jungkook for believing assumptions about him, but it seems that perhaps Taehyung has made assumptions about Jungkook, too.

Nothing about Jungkook’s behavior is expected, but all of it is welcomed.

With a quiet sigh, Taehyung slides his hands across Jungkook’s temples and digs his fingers into his silky hair to get a good grip on his head.

“Gonna fuck your throat,” Taehyung warns Jungkook, giving him enough time to tell him if he isn’t into the idea.

Jungkook coughs when he pushes himself forward until he presses his nose against Taehyung’s abdomen.

Pulling back, Jungkook opens his mouth wide. He does his best to lock his doe eyes with Taehyung’s as he begins thrusting into his mouth.

At first, the thrusts are shallow, testing the waters. Once Jungkook proves to be capable of holding his own, Taehyung quickens his pace. His thrusts are sharp and hard. Occasionally, he holds Jungkook’s face against his abdomen, forcing him to choke on the entire length of his cock before slowly pulling back to let him breathe.

Even though the door is locked, Taehyung can’t help but get excited at the idea of someone knowing what they’re doing. Perhaps they can hear Jungkook gag on Taehyung’s cock when he thrusts particularly hard, hitting the back of his throat. Maybe they’ll bang on the door. Maybe they’ll gossip about it. Taehyung wonders if they’ll think it’s him getting his throat fucked.

It doesn’t matter. By the time he’s finished with Jungkook, it’ll be clear what happened.

Reaching down, Taehyung wraps his hand around Jungkook’s throat. When he squeezes, he feels Jungkook’s throat tighten around his cock. Every time his throat spasms, Taehyung feels lightheaded.

“Shit, okay, okay,” Taehyung pulls Jungkook off of him. Spit connects the tip of his now fully hard cock with Jungkook’s pink, swollen lips.

Jungkook gasps with drool dripping at the corners of his mouth and tears streaking his flushed cheeks. He looks pretty like this, ruined, though Taehyung supposes most people do. Jungkook especially, though.

Something feels tight in Taehyung’s chest when he brings his hand to cup Jungkook’s face. It feels like affection, but that can’t possibly be it. Kim Taehyung doesn’t feel things like that, not for men who aren’t his dearest friends. Not for men who are pretty enough to ruin him.

And Jungkook could. Even though it’s Taehyung who runs his thumb across Jungkook’s face to wipe away his tears, Jungkook would be the one to ruin him.

Swallowing the strange lump in his throat, Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s chin and guides him to stand up.

Leaning forward, Taehyung presses his lips to Jungkook’s, immediately capturing his bottom lip between his teeth and pulling. It distracts Jungkook from Taehyung’s fingers undoing his slacks. He’s quick to tug his pants and underwear halfway down his thighs, far enough to give him access to the part of Jungkook’s body Taehyung has always admired but never got the chance to experience.

His large hands immediately find the swell of Jungkook’s ass and begin kneading the soft skin, appreciating the firmness of the muscles he finds there. It’s no surprise; Jungkook has the body of an athlete – far different from Taehyung’s slender frame.

“This ass,” Taehyung praises once he lets go of Jungkook’s bitten lip. “God, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Oh,” Jungkook sighs, pushing back slightly to encourage Taehyung to keep up with the massage. He fists the front of Taehyung’s shirt, wrinkling the material, but Taehyung doesn’t care. Appearances matter, but not in a situation like this.

“Will you let me fuck you, baby?” Taehyung whispers against Jungkook’s lips when he pulls his face closer to his again.

“Y-Yeah, Taehyung-ssi, please,” Jungkook stutters. Taehyung shouldn’t find it cute.

Now that his neglected cock is free, Jungkook tries to thrust into Taehyung’s thigh, seeking any amount of friction he can find. His cock is pretty, too, with a delicious curve and flushed skin.

Taehyung doesn’t get on his knees for men, but he would swallow Jungkook’s cock. Perhaps one day.

“Up against the counter, baby.”

The pet name flows from Taehyung’s lips easily while he maneuvers Jungkook to face the bathroom counter. A large mirror covers the wall, allowing the two men to watch themselves – and each other – as Taehyung shoves his fingers into Jungkook’s mouth.

“Get them nice and wet for me so I can open you up,” he instructs, but Jungkook already knows what to do. His warm, wet tongue swirls between Taehyung’s fingers, caressing them like he did Taehyung’s cock.

Jungkook’s dark eyes meet Taehyung’s in the mirror. They’re weighed down, heavy with lust. The look alone makes Taehyung’s stomach flip.

Taehyung removes his fingers with a pop once they’re covered in spit. He grabs one of Jungkook’s plump cheeks with his clean hand to spread him open.

“Breathe,” he murmurs as he circles Jungkook’s exposed rim a few times.

Despite his somewhat harsh behavior earlier, Taehyung is gentle and slow as he presses his finger past Jungkook’s rim. He doesn’t want to hurt him, no matter how much his cock aches to be inside of him.

“Fuck, give me more, I can take more,” Jungkook groans. His eyes never leave Taehyung’s in the mirror, even when Taehyung lets his gaze fall to where Jungkook’s ass sucks in two of his fingers.

The stretch must be manageable because Jungkook pushes back on Taehyung’s fingers. He grips the edge of the counter to give himself leverage as he wiggles his hips.

He’s so squirmy that Taehyung has to press a hand to his chest to keep him steady. Taehyung slips his hand beneath Jungkook’s shirt and tweaks his nipples, forcing his back to bow.

Spit isn’t the easiest to work with, but Jungkook is surprisingly stretched already. Taehyung doesn’t bother asking why. Whether Jungkook gets fucked regularly or he fucks himself with toys, it doesn’t matter. Taehyung has no room for jealousy when all he can think about is how badly his cock throbs.

“I want you to call me hyung while I fuck you,” Taehyung says lowly in Jungkook’s ear before kissing just behind the lobe, where the skin is soft and dented. He flicks his tongue against the silver hoop he wears in one ear.

“Okay, hyung.”

A shiver rolls through Taehyung’s body, but he stops himself from moaning.

“Good. Don’t make me have to tell you twice.”

Reaching for his wallet, Taehyung takes out a condom and rips it open with his teeth. Jungkook whimpers when he does it, though he tries to keep quiet by biting his bottom lip. Taehyung winks at him through the mirror and enjoys how pink in the face Jungkook gets.

“You’re cute,” Taehyung murmurs against the nape of Jungkook’s neck while he rolls the condom on.

“Shut up.” Jungkook doesn’t sound convincing. Taehyung isn’t sure if he genuinely meant to be or not.

With a chuckle, Taehyung gives Jungkook’s ass a light slap and enjoys the way the muscle jiggles from the force. It’s going to look so good with Taehyung pounding into it. For now, he looks away and focuses on Jungkook’s utterly debauched face in the mirror.

Bringing a cupped hand just below Jungkook’s mouth, Taehyung presses his chest to Jungkook’s back and whispers in his ear, “Spit.”

Like a good boy, Jungkook drools into Taehyung’s palm until he’s satisfied and pulls away.

Slicking up his cock, Taehyung presses the fat head of his cock against Jungkook’s rim and finally allows himself to let out a shaky breath of anticipation.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whines. He’s nothing like the stone-cold bodyguard who stops Taehyung from enjoying life unrestrained. “I’m ready.”

They groan in unison when Taehyung eases into Jungkook. Despite lacking the type of lube Taehyung prefers, Jungkook is warm and wet and perfectly snug around his cock, sucking him in greedily. Taehyung keeps rubbing Jungkook’s nipples with one hand and uses the other to spread Jungkook open so he can watch himself bury his cock inside of him over and over again.

“Fuck, hyung, oh god,” Jungkook moans.

His knuckles turn white from how tightly he grips the edge of the counter to keep himself up. Taehyung can feel how much effort it takes for Jungkook to keep himself together by how tightly his walls flutter around his cock.

Taehyung is ruthless as he fucks into Jungkook. His blunt nails dig crescents into Jungkook’s ass, and Taehyung thinks Jungkook likes the little nips of pain.

He loves how pliant Jungkook is, loves how his body rocks forward and eases back with each of Taehyung’s thrusts. He loves how his ass and thighs jiggle as his body slaps into them. He loves how Jungkook’s head lolls around on his neck because he’s panting and drooling and too fucked out of his mind to keep himself upright without Taehyung holding him.

“That feel good, Jungkook-ah, hm?” Taehyung purrs in Jungkook’s ear and smiles with his teeth pressed against the side of his neck when Jungkook nods enthusiastically.

“So good, hyung. You feel so good in me,” Jungkook pants.

“Didn’t ever think your bottom of a boss would ever fuck you dumb, huh? Too much of a twink, huh?”

Taehyung can’t help but bring it up. Like Jimin said, there’s nothing wrong with being a bottom – Taehyung loves them, naturally. But god, is there a deep satisfaction in fucking someone who thought it would never happen – all because Taehyung acts a little flamboyant sometimes.

Taehyung’s dangly earrings swing as he fucks Jungkook. When he wraps his elegant fingers around Jungkook’s cock and begins jerking him off, he does so with the flick of a wrist adorned with thin gold bracelets. Taehyung wears dainty jewelry, and his mascara is getting ruined, but he’s fucking big, manly Jungkook within an inch of his life.

It’s just so good.

“I take it back, okay? I fucking, fuck, I, I, fuck –”

Jungkook tries to thrust up into Taehyung’s hand. It throws them off rhythm for a few seconds, but Taehyung quickly picks it back up again so that he is fucking into Jungkook while Jungkook can buck into Taehyung’s hand.

“It’s okay, baby. You know better now.”

“Mhm,” Jungkook whimpers. “I do. Please, I’m gonna–”

“Come?” Taehyung rolls his palm over the head of Jungkook’s cock.

Jungkook lets out a wet moan when he comes that makes Taehyung think he might be crying, but Taehyung doesn’t bother checking the mirror. He’s too busy chasing his own climax now that Jungkook came, watching his cock glide in and out of him.

It’s the thought that this would feel so much better if Taehyung could shove Jungkook’s face down and fuck him into his mattress if they were at home that sends Taehyung over the edge. He comes with his forehead pressed against Jungkook’s shoulder blades and his fingers digging into the fleshy part of his hips.

“God fucking damn it,” Taehyung groans, wrapping both arms around Jungkook’s tiny waist and pulling him flush against his chest. He rolls his hips, grinding against Jungkook’s prostate and making him try to wiggle away.

“Tae, quit it,” Jungkook gasps as he swats at Taehyung’s arms, and Taehyung doesn’t realize how light the casual use of his nickname makes him feel.

With an evil chuckle, Taehyung slips out of Jungkook with a hiss and throws away the condom. Using his forearm, he brushes his sweaty hair out of his face. It’s good that they’re in the bathroom; it makes clean-up easier.

“Okay?” Taehyung asks Jungkook as he tucks his cock into his pants and zips them up. Surprisingly, he hasn’t made a mess on his clothes.

If only poor Jungkook could say the same.

“I got cum all over my shirt,” Jungkook groans. His hands shake as he dabs at his black shirt with a damp paper towel, trying to get out the sticky mess.

“Just zip up your jacket,” Taehyung points out before leaning over the sink to splash cold water on his face. “Everyone will be looking at me anyway.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes but zips up his jacket to hide his soiled shirt.

It isn’t until Taehyung is finished trying to salvage what little makeup remains on his face that he notices the soft look on Jungkook’s.

“What?” he asks, whatever power he’d had earlier suddenly swirling down the drain like the water in the sink.

“You’re right; everyone will be looking at you,” Jungkook says with a slight shrug. “You’re beautiful, Taehyung-ssi.”

It’s Taehyung’s turn to roll his eyes, mostly because he fears the flutter in his chest and needs to distract himself from it. He reaches out to pat Jungkook’s cheek but cups his face and lets his thumb brush over his bottom lip instead.

“I told you to call me hyung,” he murmurs before pulling Jungkook into a kiss.

Maybe having a bodyguard isn’t too terrible.

@remmykinsff @rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap

[gimmethatagustd]

a good alpha | kth + pjm

Summary: Jimin is saving his virginity for his future mate, even if it means suffering unbearable heats on his own. His best friend, Taehyung, just doesn’t understand.

Pairing: Alpha Taehyung x Omega Jimin

Rating: Explicit

Words: 5,330

Tags: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Omegaverse, Roommates, Boypussy, Possessive Taehyung, Virgin Jimin, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Vaginal Sex, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Gaslighting, Overstimulation, Forced Orgasm, Unreliable Narrator, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knotting, "Just the Tip"

Content Warning: Sex between Vmin teeters a VERY fine line between dubious consent and non-consensual. It may depend on how you read Taehyung's POV and his interpretation of Jimin's behavior, so please be mindful if sexual misconduct is a trigger for you.

A/N: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE TAGS/WARNING! I wrote this for Dead Dove Bottom Jimin Fest 2025. This is my first time writing something like this and it showed me that I need more practice writing darkfic. I’m too soft lmfao 😂 thank GOD for Soli (notsoli_94), my lovely beta. Idk how she put up with me during this process (and will unfortunately have to continue putting up with me), but I wouldn't have felt confident about a single paragraph of this fic without her. Ty Soli for dealing with my yapping, indecisiveness, and procrastination 💜

Masterlist | AO3

“What do you mean, you don’t wanna fuck?” The alpha’s fingernails dig into Jimin’s bicep. When he leans in, the stench of alcohol on his breath makes Jimin’s upper lip curl.

“I don’t have sex with people I’ve just met,” Jimin says, yanking his arm back. He doesn’t want to make a scene in the middle of the sidewalk outside a classy restaurant, but this alpha, Jeongho, can’t think beyond his knot.

Jimin’s peppermint scent spikes, permeating the surrounding air in a thick, invisible cloud.

Jeongho hisses as he wipes his watery eyes with the back of his hand. “So I just paid for that expensive fucking dinner, dealt with every fucking alpha who walked past you with their mouth hanging open,” he spits. “All for you to act like a prude bitch?”

“I’m not… I’m not a bitch.”

The wind is dead. Jimin’s distressed scent clings to his and Jeongho’s clothes. It seeps into their pores.

Jeongho leaves sometime between the first tear slipping down Jimin’s rosy cheek and Taehyung answering his phone on the first ring.

Jimin’s eyesight blurs with tears, and not because of the peppermint. The bright blue of his phone screen reflects off the water streaking his skin. He doesn’t understand why he’s crying so hard. Alphas ruining Jimin’s night is nothing new. So far, Jeongho is among the worst.

“Is the piece of shit still there? I’ll fucking kill him.” Taehyung’s contact photo wavers on the screen, but his voice cuts through the air with startling confidence.

“He drove away.”

Taehyung lets out a dark laugh. “What kind of alpha leaves a distressed omega in pre-heat alone on the side of the fucking street?”

The situation sounds pathetic when Taehyung lays it out like that. It makes Jimin sob louder, and that shuts Taehyung up. 

Jimin knows he shouldn’t have gone on a date during his pre-heat. Alphas expect an omega in their pre-heat to be cock-thirsty and ready to submit to any willing alpha for a knot. And maybe Jimin is desperate—just not in the way these alphas expect. He spends his heats alone because he wants to find the one.

Jeongho clearly isn’t that.

By the time Jimin settles into the passenger seat of Taehyung’s car, his eyes are bloodshot and burning. He doesn’t bother wiping the tears from his face. His tear ducts depleted, and the streaks dried.

“I thought you said this Jeongho guy seemed like a decent one,” Taehyung says. He reaches around to grab Jimin’s seat, rotating his body. Proficiency in backing out of a parking spot is a strange alpha flex.

Jimin stares ahead blankly. “He was nice in the beginning.”

“Then what? He wanted to get his dick wet?”

“Don’t be so crass,” Jimin says. His gaze glides to Taehyung, who is now focused on the road. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Taehyung complain about a bad date with an omega or beta.

“Sorry.” Taehyung spares a quick glance at Jimin when his pheromones flood the car in a bitter wave.

Alphas always love bomb Jimin. They make him think he’s worth something special—until they realize he won’t have sex with them. Even the ones who stick around for a second or third date always have an ulterior motive.

Just Jimin isn’t enough.

Jimin lets Taehyung’s apology linger the rest of the drive home. It floats to the car ceiling, mingling with bitter peppermint and the smell of stale cigarette smoke from Taehyung’s days working in construction. There’s no hint of basil, though. Scent blockers smother the sharp, earthy scent Jimin likes on Taehyung. It is proper etiquette for office workers to use scent blockers. Jimin still permits himself to scowl at Taehyung while he rubs the dreaded cream into his skin every morning.

“Come on, Chim.”

Their apartment parking garage is desolate on a Friday evening. Jimin kicks loose pieces of asphalt that spray in Taehyung’s direction.

“Hey!” Taehyung skips to the side with his knee slightly bent to sweep his hand across his white Converse. “New kicks.”

“Taehyung-ah.”

“I’m just saying.”

The garage elevator pings in time with Taehyung winking at Jimin. It’s a counterattack to a glare that disappears once they reach the seventh floor.

“Why do I do this to myself?” Jimin sniffles as Taehyung steers him into their apartment.

Taehyung squeezes Jimin’s shoulders, digging his fingers into muscles taut with the tension between expectations and reality. “You aren’t doing anything wrong, Jimin-ah. It’s these alphas’ fault. They don’t know how to treat an omega right.”

With a pout, Jimin kicks off his shoes and throws himself face-first onto the living room couch. The cushion muffles his voice when he says, “But I’m the one choosing to go on dates with them.”

“You have a kind heart!” Taehyung shouts from the kitchen.

Jimin hears the fridge open and Taehyung rummage through it. “Maybe I should become heartless.”

“Having a heart isn’t a bad thing. Just means sometimes shitty alphas take advantage of that, y’know?”

Whatever Taehyung says won’t really matter. There’s a common factor in every failed relationship: Jimin. If he isn’t at the root of the problem, then what is? Even if shitty alphas are taking advantage of him—as Taehyung claims—it still stems from Jimin being too kind, too weak. What a typical omega he is. Of course, he would attract the wrong type of alphas.

It’s all hopeless.

“Chim, stop wiping your boogers on the couch.”

Jimin turns his face to the side so he can watch Taehyung carry two pints of ice cream into the living room. Despite his bleary eyes and runny nose, a small smile blooms across his face.

“Do you know you’re a psychopath for liking plain vanilla ice cream?” Jimin asks as he sits up.

Taehyung rolls his eyes and hands Jimin one of the pints and a spoon. “Shut up. Vanilla is a classic.”

“Normal people at least add a topping to it.”

Jimin peels off the lid and tosses it onto the coffee table. He normally savors the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, wanting it to last long since the brand he likes is a little pricey. But today he’s going to eat the entire thing.

“Normal is boring, isn’t it?”

“As annoying as you are, I wish more alphas were like you, Tae.” Jimin takes a large bite of ice cream, licking the spoon clean after. He doesn’t mean to stare at Taehyung when he does it, absentminded as he considers his words. “The world would be a much better place.”

It may be a trick of Jimin’s senses, but he thinks he notices a hint of basil waft over him when Taehyung wiggles onto the couch. The scent blocker cream wears off eventually. Jimin’s skin tingles from the scent, imagined or not. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything after his comment, but Jimin understands him with no need for a verbal response. They’ve been roommates for a year and close friends for even longer. The highs and lows of Taehyung’s scent are easy signals for Jimin to read, even when weakened by scent blockers. Besides, his basil goes rather well with Jimin’s peppermint. 

They are a calming pair when they’re together. It’s nice having Taehyung as a best friend. Even though he’s an alpha, Taehyung brings Jimin more peace than anyone else he knows.

If only the other alphas were like Taehyung. Maybe Jimin’s love life would be a lot less miserable. If only, if only.

Jimin goes to Hoseok’s apartment for his heats, desiring the privacy and understanding of his childhood friend. Instead of sexual gratification, Hoseok, another omega, provides him with a safe space to weather his heats. Initially, Jimin’s rejection of Taehyung’s presence as an alpha offended him. It took time for him to understand the omega perspective and how alphas can taint the experience for unmated, celibate omegas. He sees the benefits—even though he knows he would be a perfect alpha for Jimin’s heats. For Jimin.

That’s a thought Taehyung tries not to dwell on. It’s an animal scratching at the far corner of his mind, caged and restless, claws buried in his gray matter. 

Instead, he thinks about how strange it is for the lamp in the entryway to still be on as he slips into the apartment. All the other lights in the apartment are off. It’s just past midnight, long since Jimin texted him an update that he’d be going to bed soon. Work has been kicking Taehyung’s ass, roping him into long hours that go deep into the evenings and have him up early in the morning. Jimin must have left the lamp on for him.

After taking off his shoes and removing his suit jacket and tie, Taehyung heads to his bedroom. There are a few hallway floorboards that squeak, so he’s quick on his feet as he creeps past Jimin’s bedroom. He’s almost in the clear when his attention snags on a sound—a soft, needy whimper so faint it nearly disappears beneath the rush of his own exhale. His body stills, ears straining to hear that sound again. Breathy, almost wet. He cocks his head toward Jimin’s bedroom door as if a certain angle can clear the white noise in his head. 

“Jimin-ah?”

Silence from the ajar door greets Taehyung. Odd, since Jimin grows wary of his vulnerability during his pre-heat and never sleeps with the door open. The feeling is pure, instinctive paranoia. Heats are omegas’ most defenseless moments. Even Taehyung’s ruts can trigger a desire for security.

The hair on Taehyung’s forearms raises with goosebumps from a second faint whimper drifting through the still hallway.

Taehyung doesn’t hesitate further, disappearing into the darkness of Jimin’s bedroom and closing the door behind him. His alpha instincts draw him toward the whimpering omega. Poor Jimin, Taehyung’s sweet Jimin, utterly exposed during such a vulnerable moment. The thought fuels a wildfire that claws up his chest and curls his top lip, only extinguished by the sound of the bedroom door’s lock clicking into place. 

Inside Jimin’s bedroom, the mixed scent of slick and peppermint thickens in the back of Taehyung’s throat. He runs his tongue along his teeth, slipping the tip out to swipe across his lips. Drool gathers in the corners of his mouth. Taehyung inhales deeply, pulling the air through his flared nostrils as if Jimin's scent is coke and he's seeking the sweetest fix. It makes his tastebuds tingle, and his cock swell. 

Jimin’s heat is early. Taehyung knows because he’d checked the heat tracker app he keeps on his phone earlier that morning. Jimin never remembers to update it, but that’s okay. Taehyung always remembers. 

The first step toward the bed is a stumble caught by Taehyung grabbing the cluttered edge of Jimin’s dresser. Little Lego figurines take flight and land with a clatter under furniture or take a gentle dive into a pile of dirty laundry. Taehyung feels just as stiff-legged and off-balance as the yellow plastic. 

Should he call Hoseok? Should he wake Jimin? Or would that just make everything worse?

Jimin is sprawled on his stomach across the bed, his cheeks squished and flushed against his pillow. One knee hiked up, right arm curled under his pillow, plush lips parted with each small whimper. It’s hot in the room, musty even, beneath peppermint and slick. Sweat plasters Jimin’s dark bangs against his forehead in stringy strands. His pajamas look lightweight and easy to peel off. It’s cute. He’s cute in pink—a cropped band t-shirt and flimsy panties, the kind with lace trim and a tiny bow on the front.

Taehyung stares. He lets his gaze glide up the smooth skin of Jimin’s legs, stalling between his thighs where a dark spot stains his underwear. The sight is too intimate, too delicate. He’s never seen Jimin like this. It makes his chest ache with a piercing, hungry kind of love. 

If only Jimin would let himself see it. If only he’d understand how perfect they are for each other. 

Taehyung’s fingers reach for the bed almost absentmindedly, running along the fuzzy blanket tossed across it. He helped Jimin pick it out when they first moved in together. It was then that they discovered their shared love of the color purple. One of many similarities they found they share.

There’s another whimper, and this time Jimin’s eyebrows tighten just slightly, creating little wrinkles between the subtle arches. How can he be so adorable like this? There’s something innocent about him, an angel laid down to rest. His little fist grips the bedsheet beneath him like he’s holding onto his dreamworld, unwilling to let his heat pull him back to reality. 

Taehyung’s cock throbs. The heat of it spreads, sweat dampening the armpits of his dress shirt. Picking at the top button, he presses it into the base of his throat before thumbing it halfway through the hole. He should get Jimin a glass of water, maybe turn on the ceiling fan. He should do something more than just stare, watching the rise and fall of Jimin’s body as he sleeps. 

Swallowing, Taehyung gulps down the thick scent of slick and peppermint. His fingers pick at more shirt buttons, pushing them through each hole. His omega is suffering. What kind of alpha would he be if he ignored Jimin’s needs? All this self-inflicted suffering in anticipation of a future mate is pointless; Taehyung has been right here the whole time. If he has to pick Jimin up from another shitty date with another shitty alpha, he swears he’ll fucking kill the next one.

Virginity isn’t even real. It’s a concept—he has tried convincing Jimin of that plenty of times. 

I’ll be gentle. The thought crosses Taehyung’s mind, weaving between melodic chants: mine, mine, mine.

Shaking fingers unclasp his belt, and his slacks pool on the floor beside his wrinkled shirt. Basil, peppermint, and slick cloy in the stagnant bedroom air. He’s sweating off his scent blocker cream, and, fuck, does the mix of his and Jimin’s scents smell divine. Each inhale moves through his body, pushing the rush of his blood further south, until his cock is twitching and leaking in his briefs.

I’ll be gentle, he thinks again, kneeling on the bed between Jimin’s legs. Just enough to take the edge off, to satiate Jimin so he can at least sleep more soundly.

But Taehyung’s hands are trembling too hard. He grips the back of Jimin’s knee, forcing his bent leg higher to open his thighs more. It’s too dark to see the pink spots bloom across Jimin’s skin where his fingertips had been. He grabs the curve of Jimin’s ass with a firm squeeze. His fingers slip beneath the lace trim, tugging the fabric to one side of Jimin’s pussy, exposing his plump lips. Slick clings to his underwear in shining strings, glittering in the faint moonlight peeking through the window blinds. Taehyung gathers the slick, breaking the strings with his fingers. When he accidentally grazes skin, Jimin’s peppermint pheromones explode, sharp and dizzying. 

He tips his head back and takes a loud, shuddering breath. “Fuck.” 

Tongue still heavy, it rolls in Taehyung’s mouth. He smacks his lips, tonguing at the inside of his cheeks, licking across his front teeth. He feels like he’s got cotton in his mouth, but he has to suck his teeth to swallow the saliva Jimin’s mouthwatering scent triggers. All he can think about is how good Jimin would taste. It would be easy to stick his fingers in his mouth and suck the slick off each one. He could lie between Jimin’s thighs and feast on what he knows is his. Something tells him he could eat Jimin alive and always want for more. 

Maybe next time he’ll give himself permission to indulge. But the focus tonight is on giving his omega relief. 

Taehyung watches Jimin’s face as he runs his fingers along his glistening pussy, pushing through his lips to press his fingers into the part of his omega that makes his mouth water the most. Hot and swollen, Jimin’s clit grows slick as Taehyung spends time circling it. Dipping down, he uses his thumb to collect more slick from Jimin’s entrance to drag up his clit again. He occasionally flicks it, digging hard into each side before flipping back again. Though the room is dark, he can see how shiny and wet Jimin’s pussy grows. 

No other alpha can anticipate what Jimin likes the way Taehyung can. It’s automatic how Jimin’s body responds to his touch. His peppermint scent spikes when Taehyung scratches a nail down both sides of his clit. A hooked thumb in his pussy makes his walls flutter. A pinch to his clit makes his inner thigh muscles spasm. But it’s the tight fit of two long fingers shoving inside his pussy that makes Jimin’s whimpers grow ragged. Breathy and high-pitched, they’re edged with something desperate, yet tender, like relief.

Taehyung freezes. Like in the hallway, his lungs tighten in his chest, body locking up. If Jimin could feel a look, Taehyung’s gaze would carve into the side of his face. 

But Jimin’s eyes remain closed, pretty lashes still resting against fever-flushed cheeks.

Good.

It’s better this way, letting Taehyung help while Jimin sleeps. There’s something romantic about it, Taehyung considers as he leans forward, letting drool fall from his numb mouth to pool at Jimin’s entrance. Saliva and slick, flowing in mixed rivers through Jimin’s pussy. Romance is exactly this—wet, messy, uncontrollable. Pure love, in its rawest form. A pure love guides Taehyung’s fingers as they fuck Jimin’s pussy, hard enough to make his ass jiggle with each thrust. It’s the same kind of love that tries to escape Taehyung through moans he has to hold back with bitten lips. He knows Jimin feels it, too. It’s clear in the way he shifts in his sleep, hips gently rolling to the pace Taehyung sets for them. Little fist gripping the bedsheets even tighter, knuckles whitening.

Love makes Taehyung grow bolder. He shoves his fingers even deeper inside Jimin and stays there, dragging them along the hot, sticky walls sucking him in. He presses into the front wall to flutter his fingers until Jimin’s slick squelches between them. It gushes out, dripping down Taehyung’s wrist and pooling on the bed.

Jimin sighs into a fragile, angelic moan half-smothered by his pillow, just debauched enough to make Taehyung shiver. So beautiful, so innocent. Taehyung wonders if Jimin is dreaming about the pleasure that makes his mouth fall slack and his eyes shift beneath his lids.

With his free hand, Taehyung reaches for Jimin’s chest. Though Jimin is still lying on his stomach, he’s twisted slightly on his side, just enough to expose his midriff. Taehyung shoves the cropped t-shirt out of his way, bunching the fabric just underneath Jimin’s collarbones. Fingers still buried in Jimin’s pussy, Taehyung leans forward, trapping him against the bed from behind. He closes his mouth over a nipple. It hardens beneath the wet swirl of his tongue and the sharpness of his teeth scraping against it. 

If only he could ink this moment onto his skin, devote it to memory, so he may recite the curves of Jimin’s body like scripture. There are parables hidden in his whimpers, lessons to be learned in the tremble of his body. Taehyung doesn’t believe in heaven, but he closes his lips around Jimin’s nipple and hears the sigh of an angel speak back to him. 

Releasing Jimin’s now perky nipple, Taehyung leans back. He pulls his fingers out of Jimin’s pussy, dragging the slick across the back of his thigh. Jimin is so wet, and Taehyung’s cock is aching, dripping precum that stains the front of his briefs.

“My omega… so beautiful, my omega…” 

Jimin squirms with a whine angled into his pillow. Virgin or not, stubborn or not, he’s crying out for Taehyung’s touch. Taehyung knows it. 

Guiding himself with one hand, Taehyung presses the head of his cock to Jimin’s dripping pussy. He eases just the tip inside, gasping at the tightness before dragging it out again, watching slick wet his skin. Even in the dark, he can see the glisten. It’s torture, pure torture, when he could so easily… push further… His jaw aches from clenching, biting his molars to keep himself grounded. 

Jimin deserves to be cared for, in a way Taehyung knows only he can. Steadying himself with a fist in the mattress, he pushes in a little deeper. A millimeter. Nothing too far. He’s a good alpha, he tells himself. He won’t hurt him.

But then Jimin shifts in his sleep, and fuck, it’s like he’s pushing back on Taehyung’s cock. His hips lift, and Taehyung gasps. More of his cock slides in, hugged tight by wet, fiery walls. It’s such an easy fit with how wet Jimin is. 

“Oh, fuck.” His head drops, eyes locked on the sight of his cock half-buried in Jimin’s pussy. How can he resist when Jimin’s body is inviting him in?

Taehyung looks up when an explosion of pheromones fogs his brain. Jimin’s mouth hangs open as his breathing grows heavier, almost ragged with need—but the intrusion doesn't wake him. 

Exhaling slowly, Taehyung pushes forward until he bottoms out, his cock fully buried inside of Jimin’s pussy. His arms tremble with the effort to hold himself up as he begins fucking Jimin with deep thrusts, slow enough not to wake him. But it feels too good, better than anyone he has ever had, better than he could have ever imagined. Maybe it’s because Jimin is tight. Jimin’s little body grips Taehyung’s cock so tightly he can watch it try to suck him back in each time he pulls back.

And of course they fit together better than anyone can. They’ve always fit together. Even asleep, Jimin’s body moves with Taehyung, spilling pathetic moans into his drool-soaked pillow.

If they weren’t meant to be, it wouldn’t feel this perfect.

It’s after one perfect, gorgeous moan that Jimin rouses, eyelids fluttering open. He blinks, pretty brown eyes glassy and unfocused from the mental fog his heat brings him. Even when recognition flickers across his face, he still stares at Taehyung blankly, as though he doesn’t know him. The expression only changes once he looks over his shoulder further and registers Taehyung’s position between his legs.

“I’m…” Jimin swallows, opens his mouth, then closes it again with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry I woke you up,” Taehyung murmurs, voice thick. He brushes his caramel hair from his face with his forearm and doesn’t miss how Jimin’s eyes track the flex of his bicep.  

Taehyung’s cock twitches inside him, and Jimin’s face flushes a deeper pink. He tries to turn onto his back, but the alpha’s weight pins him down. His face contorts as he reaches behind himself, little fingers unable to curl around Taehyung’s muscular forearm. For a second, it looks like he’s pushing him away.

“Taehyung—” Jimin says, voice breaking with each quiver of his body. His nails dig into Taehyung’s forearm, clinging to him with a fervor that melts into a tremor when Taehyung grinds his hips deeper.

Shuddering, Taehyung closes his eyes for a moment. How long has he waited to hear his name from Jimin’s lips, broken and desperate? Groaning, he wraps his hands around Jimin’s tiny waist. He rams his cock deeper inside him, driving Jimin into the mattress.

“Shhh, it’s me, baby. It’s just me. Your alpha. You’re safe,” Taehyung murmurs.

Pushing his hips back against Taehyung, Jimin cries out with a shattered sound, thin and desperate. His frantic rhythm is all the confirmation Taehyung needs. 

Taehyung tightens his grip on Jimin’s hips, his thrusts deepening and making the headboard crack against the wall.

Jimin gasps, the sound ripped from his lungs as Taehyung pounds into him. A dizzying rush of distressed pheromones blankets the bedroom. Jimin throws his arms out above his head, stubby fingers raking over the bedsheets, unable to bunch the fabric into his fists with how violently Taehyung launches his body forward and back.

Hooking his arm around Jimin’s waist, Taehyung attempts to haul him onto his knees. “Come on, omega,” he grunts when Jimin’s knees give out. “Present for your alpha.”

“No, no, Tae, no.”

Taehyung frowns. The pleasure is probably too overwhelming for Jimin. In his excitement, Taehyung has almost forgotten that this is Jimin’s first time. He should let Jimin rest, but he knows his heat will only get worse.

“It’s okay,”—Taehyung leans in to nuzzle Jimin’s nape—“you don’t have to be shy with me.”

Jimin slumps forward, deadweight in Taehyung’s arms. He mumbles something into his pillow that Taehyung can’t hear.

With a sigh, Taehyung hooks his chin over Jimin’s shoulder. He nuzzles the side of his neck, running his wet tongue across his scent gland.

“Fine, Jimin-ah. I’ll give you what you want tonight. But, you’ll be on your knees for me at some point.”

Jimin shakes his head, his silky chocolate hair mussed from the pillowcase. Stubborn little omega. He’s a good boy, though, when he lets Taehyung wrap his arms around his waist a second time.

“But I’ll be nice,” Taehyung continues as he lifts Jimin to toss him on his back. “I won’t tease you when you do it.”

Jimin’s body bounces with the force, his arms flopping at his sides. Slick and spit dribble down his thighs. His shaking fingers reach between his legs to feel the mess. They skirt over his swollen clit, and a subdued moan slips from his lips. The sound seems to surprise him. Or maybe it’s the realization of how wet he is for Taehyung.

Sweat drips down Jimin’s temple and plasters his shirt to his body. Taehyung can’t let his omega be uncomfortable. Grabbing the t-shirt’s hem, he rips it over Jimin’s head, maneuvering his arms to peel it off.

“I wish you could see yourself,” Taehyung murmurs, squeezing Jimin’s bent knees in his palms. “And see how your body opens up so nicely for me.” He yanks Jimin’s legs apart when they stray inward, forcing his pussy on display. “You can feel it, though. What those other alphas could never do for you.” 

Taehyung meets Jimin’s glassy stare, cock lined up again, and he can tell that Jimin is trying hard to focus. It’s so cute, his little omega so fucked out that he can’t think straight. 

“Alpha?” Jimin blinks his wet eyelashes, pushing a single tear across the swell of his cheek and down the side of his face. 

“That’s it,”—Taehyung’s nails dig crescents into Jimin’s hips, and he thrusts into him hard enough to make him choke—“that’s right. Your alpha’s gonna take care of you.”

Jimin moans an angelic chorus of Taehyung’s name, over and over, tears of pleasure streaking his cheeks. He moans Taehyung’s name like it’s all he knows how to say. And maybe it is all he knows, all his brain can muster, as Taehyung's cock fucks the first of multiple orgasms out of him. Omegas need to cum countless times throughout their heat, and Taehyung intends to take care of his omega. 

“Fuck, yes.” Taehyung’s fingers slide across Jimin’s clit, rubbing hard circles as he fucks him through it. “Gonna come for your alpha, yeah?”

“Taehyung, st—”

Jimin lets out a muffled sob swallowed by Taehyung’s mouth. His tongue is hot as it slides against Taehyung’s, spreading hot spit across hot lips, lapping at the sharp edges of their mouths and the points of their teeth. And when he comes a second time, his cries of pleasure dance across Taehyung’s face with hot exhales.

He’s hot everywhere. Yet he shivers as his body clenches around Taehyung’s cock. 

“Come on, omega.” 

“Alpha, alpha,” Jimin pants, hazy eyes gliding over Taehyung’s face. They nearly cross with the effort to look at him so closely. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Taehyung says. He keeps a hand pressed into the mattress beside Jimin’s head. The other squeezes one of Jimin’s thighs, hiking it over his hip and holding it in place. 

When Taehyung’s knot tugs on him, Jimin lets out a weak cry. Tears glitter down his cheeks, little streaks of moonlight on blushing porcelain skin. A dark bruise blooms where the long column of his throat dips into his collarbone. His body yields—no, molds—to Taehyung with ease because they’re meant to be.

“I know you stayed home for me,” Taehyung says with his head dropped so he can watch between their bodies where his swollen knot is stretching Jimin’s pussy. Strokes loose and sloppy. “You could have told Hobi hyung about your heat coming early. But you wanted me instead, didn’t you, jagiya?” 

It isn’t until Jimin grabs his biceps that Taehyung looks up again. 

“I know you want me, Jimin. You keep making me pick you up from all those fucking dates on purpose.” Taehyung thrusts harder, forcing his cock as deep inside Jimin as he can with each subsequent stroke. He’ll knot him soon.

Jimin shakes his head, the wispy strands of his bangs hooking into the curl of his eyelashes. He tries to look away, but Taehyung grabs his chin. 

“You’re doing it to fuck with me, see how far you can push your alpha.” 

Another deep, sharp thrust. Taehyung’s eyes narrow, and a hiss slips from his gritted teeth. 

Jimin runs his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, tugging until he throws his head back. It’s wrong, baring his throat to his omega. But the feel of Jimin’s tongue and teeth on his skin makes his knot ache. 

“It’s okay, jagi. You don’t have to play games with me.” Taehyung grabs Jimin’s hand, yanking it from his hair and pinning it to the bed. “‘Cause you’ve always been my omega. And I’ve always been your alpha,” he says with a final thrust that locks his knot inside Jimin. 

Jimin’s third orgasm hits him harder than the first two. He squirts slick when Taehyung knots him, soaking them with his sweet, sticky mess. Each orgasm melts his little body into the sheets, leaving him pliant beneath Taehyung’s weight. Shaking. Slumped. 

Even when Taehyung’s knot goes down, Jimin doesn’t get up, just lets his body slump into the bed. Seeking comfort only Taehyung can give him. 

Omegas like to be held down, to be protected. Taehyung cages Jimin against the bed to comfort him as he empties inside him, cum plugged by his knot, safe and exactly where it should be. He knows Jimin is content from the muted hum that vibrates his chest and makes his skin pebble with goosebumps.

“Fuck, I love you, Jimin-ah. Love my omega.” Taehyung rolls his hips into Jimin again. His cock may be soft, but it will only take a few more thrusts before it fattens up again. He feels like howling, like pressing his teeth into the softest part of Jimin’s neck and ripping his name into his skin. He has always been Jimin’s protector, someone Jimin can trust to care for him. And now he can prove it fully. He’ll make his omega feel good, just as he deserves, for the rest of their lives.

“TaeTae,” Jimin whispers, voice crackly from how vocal he was as Taehyung fucked him. His words turn into mumbles, low and slurred.

But Taehyung picks out the important parts, knows Jimin tells him he loves him back.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, jagi.”

And, God, who wouldn’t want to be loved by Jimin? The prettiest omega. Bright eyes, plump lips, a body that is strong but soft in all the right places. Kind, intelligent, gentle. Jimin is perfect, and no one seems to respect that as much as Taehyung does.

Smiling, Taehyung buries his face against Jimin’s damp neck and inhales deeply. Peppermint and basil, sweet and sharp, tangled together. Nothing in the world has ever smelled more perfect.

[gimmethatagustd]

undone | kth + jjk

Summary: When the Kim dynasty offered their second eldest alpha prince to the Jeon dynasty for an arranged marriage, the two families made an irresponsible assumption about Taehyung’s future mate: that Jungkook would present as an omega by the time he came of age.

Pairing: Prince Taehyung x Prince Jungkook

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Omegaverse, Arranged Marriage, Strangers to Lovers, Royalty, Historical Fantasy, Age Difference, Sex Pollen, Alpha Taehyung, Alpha Jungkook, Mutual Pining, Knotting, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Mating Bites, First Time, Virgin Jungkook

Word Count: 6,489

A/N: I wrote this for one of my lovely moots as part of the Taekook Fic Exchange~

No one knows what to do with Jungkook.

Omega attendants greet him at the palace gates, some to carry his belongings inside, others to escort his horses and carriages to the barn. They stare at the cobblestone pathway when he thanks them, murmuring his royal title with quick bows that ensure they never turn their backs to him until they’re several paces away.

Jungkook’s entourage disregards them. His older brother has already taken the stairs to the palace entrance, uninterested in pleasantries and too arrogant to worry about customs. His parents bark orders to Jungkook’s attendants, who watch the omegas with uncertainty. Jungkook can’t blame them for hesitating. All of his royal attendants are alphas. 

Jungkook thinks he hears one of the omegas speak, his words carrying over the sound of hooves and the Jeon family’s noise. 

“The new Prince is an alpha?” the omega whispers to another royal attendant. He’s young, can’t be much older than Jungkook. “Is that allowed?”

Jungkook doesn’t hear the other royal attendant’s response. His attention is claimed by a far nobler member of the royal court, who descends the palace stairs wearing the first smile Jungkook has seen today. 

“Jung Hoseok, personal advisor to Prince Taehyung.” The beta bends at the waist in a deep bow pointed at Jungkook. The direct attention startles Jungkook, who is the youngest Jeon child and accustomed to the rest of his royal lineage being the focal point. Still, he recovers quickly, head held high by the time Hoseok straightens from his bow. 

“I remember you, Hoseok-ssi,” Jungkook says softly, returning Hoseok’s smile. 

“Is that so?” Hoseok’s dark hair flutters in the sudden summer breeze, blowing his neatly slicked back hair into his eyes. When he lifts his hand to fix the loose strands, his sapphire rings of the Kim dynasty sparkle in the morning sun.

Jungkook nods, looking away until Hoseok has made himself presentable again. It has been a few years since the Kim family traveled to the Jeon empire to plan what is the most important thing to happen in Jungkook’s life. 

“You were so shy then,” Hoseok continues, his kind eyes settling on Jungkook’s face. “Certainly not the impressive young alpha standing before me now.”

Hoseok’s words carry no malice, but they sting Jungkook with shame. His presentation was never supposed to feel like the burden it has become. Luckily, Jungkook’s parents intervene before he can embarrass himself further, with his lips parted and nothing meaningful to utter from them. 

“The journey here is exhausting,” Jungkook’s mother sighs, touching the back of her hand to her forehead. “Must we talk about nonsense out in the heat?” 

For the ruler of a patriarchy, Jungkook’s father remains surprisingly silent at his queen’s side.

Hoseok seems unaffected by her confrontational tone. His friendly smile never wavers, though Jungkook notices the brightness of it doesn’t always reach his eyes. 

“Let me show you to your chambers,” Hoseok gestures to the palace’s entryway. “Of course, this will be temporary for you, Prince Jungkook. We have already made the necessary adjustments for your smooth transition to Prince Taehyung’s chambers after the wedding.” 

Jungkook’s pulse flutters in his throat as he follows Hoseok up the stairs. The palace’s double doors are a toothless, gaping mouth ready to suck Jungkook into its void. It was inevitable, but as Jungkook steps across the threshold into the unknown, he realizes no amount of fantasizing could have ever prepared him for how this feels. 

Before the arrangement, Jungkook lived life rather aimlessly, as most young people do. He did his studies, learned to recite dead languages and wield a sword. He attended court meetings, danced at galas, and socialized with the Jeon empire’s finest nobility. He crossed his list of royal duties and did as he was told. He never worried about life beyond the day he was currently living. 

Meeting Taehyung changed all of that. 

-

From the periphery, the wedding celebration is breathtaking. The ballroom glows with a dozen chandeliers illuminated by fairy lights, twinkling across polished marble floors and catching on the gold stitching of Jungkook’s suit jacket. An orchestra fills the room with heartachingly beautiful music. Guests dance around each other in pairs, tracing figure-eights to honor the newly wed’s lifetime of partnership and duty. Everything is cream, gold, and sky blue—from gowns and suits to bouquets flanking the thrones and the crown atop Jungkook’s head. A living, breathing reenactment of sunrise. 

And there, in the center, is Jungkook. 

The ceremony orbits him, everyone drawn to the young prince from a faraway land with a strange scent like an omega and an alpha’s fire in his doe eyes. 

Like the sun cycles through the days, Jungkook cycles through alphas. Royal attendants pass them through his hands to the rhythm of the music. By the third hour, he feels as though he’s the one being passed along, guided from guest to guest, dancing steps he learned only days ago.

Alphas from both the Jeon and Kim kingdoms take their turns dancing with the new prince, as is custom. What isn’t customary is that the new prince isn’t an omega. Jungkook is sure if it were any other royal family with an unconventional alpha-alpha arrangement, no one would line the ballroom waiting for a chance to dance with him. The public would at best mock him. In a way, he’s lucky the Kim dynasty is feared and revered. Rather than find their union unfortunate, it seems the kingdom’s nobility want to see the little alpha prince for themselves.

Well, the other alphas do. They paw at Jungkook when it’s their turn, their grip too tight, their touch too generous. Their behavior reminds him that he has yet to dance with his husband. 

Taehyung is somewhere in the sea of blue and gold. Jungkook hasn’t seen him since they changed out of their traditional ceremonial garb into the suits they wear now for the reception.

Despite the heat of each alpha’s hands on his waist and in his palm, anxiety clutches Jungkook’s heart in an icy grip. He has never attended a wedding before. Frequent illness as a child kept him from attending his elder brother’s, and none of his friends are currently of age to marry. All Jungkook knows is what family and royal advisors have taught him.

So Jungkook smiles, brightly but not to where it seems ungenuine. Never once does he show discomfort from the barrage of scents that flood him with each new dance partner. He makes small talk, polite but measured.

“You look stunning, Prince Jungkook.”

“The Moon goddess blessed Prince Taehyung when she gifted you to him, Prince Jungkook.”

“Are you ready for your first night as a mate, Prince Jungkook?”

Inexperience makes Jungkook’s embarrassment burn hotter. Unsure of how to respond, he stares, a practiced smile on his face, as they shuffle across the polished marble.

On the next beat, the alpha falters. His eyes flick past Jungkook’s shoulder, and Jungkook feels it—the shift in the air, the ballroom bending itself around the steady, alpha presence behind him. 

“I believe you’ve overextended your time with our Prince, Lord Hwan,” Taehyung says, his canines catching the fairy lights as he smiles.

“My apologies, Your Highness.” Lord Hwan bows and holds just a second too long. 

Taehyung pays Lord Hwan little attention as he retreats, instead letting his gaze fall on Jungkook. His eyes are piercing, and just as fiery as Jungkook’s. They wander Jungkook’s body, taking in his form-fitting suit that accentuates the lankiness of his youth. Jungkook feels most aware of his age when he stands beside Taehyung. Taehyung, who is broad and lean and carries himself with a quiet confidence that makes Jungkook want to know him beyond the crown nestled in his silky hair. 

“May I have this dance?”

When Taehyung speaks, his gaze lingers on Jungkook’s throat, where his mating bite is fresh from the start of their wedding ceremony.

“You may,” Jungkook says with a shy smile and a gasp when Taehyung holds him by the waist and draws him close. 

“My empire’s colors are becoming on you, Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung murmurs along the curve of Jungkook’s ear.

Nervous embarrassment heats Jungkook’s face, but he manages a polite thank you in response. The moment he first laid eyes on Taehyung at eighteen, he thought about his wedding every day. Now that it has come, no matter how awkward things have been, Jungkook thinks being held by Prince Taehyung feels just as nice as he always imagined it would. 

-

There is something wrong with Jungkook.

Ever since his wedding night, his body has ached. Perhaps for most newly-weds, such an ache would be a good thing, a sign that their new mate is an adventurous lover—or whatever it is that new mates want in each other. Jungkook wouldn’t know; he has never slept with anyone, not even Taehyung. 

No, this ache is something else entirely. The pain feels different each day, as do the sensitive parts that flare up the worst, but the day always begins and ends with the wound at his throat. 

Normally, fatigue follows the pain, then the mood swings, which catapult Jungkook into a state of persistent irritation. He isn’t sure anyone has noticed. How could they? No one here knows him, not beyond the blue and gold crown that watches him from the ornate dresser beside Taehyung’s bed—his bed. It has been a week in the Kim palace, and he still forgets to wear it.

Back home, Jungkook only ever wore his crown in public. What sense does it make to wear it in his own home? Everyone knows he’s the prince. 

The Kim family’s formality irritates him. As he gets out of bed to rummage through his dresser, he considers walking out of his chambers in his pajamas. Imagining the horrified look on the queen’s face brings him enough glee to propel him through the rest of his morning routine—though he still slips on proper clothing before leaving. This week has felt like the longest of Jungkook’s life, but he knows it isn’t long enough to test the waters of his new family. The king and queen don’t seem like the type to be trifled with. After all, they raised Taehyung. 

A deep, aching pain pulses inside Jungkook’s chest as he makes his way through the palace’s south wing. He hopes he hides it well, keeping his back straight and his chin high. Walking may be painful, but only if he needs to turn too quickly or bow. 

Luckily, he doesn’t cross paths with anyone in the royal family, just a beta guard who follows him for a few paces before he has to dismiss her with a tone snappier than he means to use. If the omega servants whispering and fumbling around him weren’t annoying enough, the guards make it worse with their constant hovering. Perhaps Jungkook would be less offended if they were preventing him from running away, rather than treating him like some fragile little thing because everyone forgets that he’s an alpha.

Or wants to pretend that he isn’t. 

The essential oils Taehyung gave Jungkook after their first night have helped him survive the complexities of palace life far more than he expected. Jungkook massages the oil into his skin every morning as a scent blocker—or a muddler, as Taehyung called it with a small smile. The oils make Jungkook smell softer, something sweet to cut the heaviness of his naturally musky alpha scent. He knows Taehyung gave him the oils as a temporary solution while the royal alchemists develop a new scent blocker potion for him. They mustn’t have been told that their new young prince would need their medicine for managing his explosive alpha scent, not inducing heats. 

None of it matters. 

Jungkook reassures himself of this as he crosses the open courtyard of the south wing. Taehyung has been busy with political troubles that aren’t Jungkook’s responsibility—yet—to give him a proper tour of the grounds. The palace sits on a massive expanse of land, a rolling ocean of green grass and islands thick with dark forests spotting the distance. 

Taking a summer morning stroll will do Jungkook some good. Being out in the open air, away from the heaviness of the palace, helps him feel less like a caged bird. 

The painful ache in his chest lessens, though some of it migrates rather than disappears. As he follows the stone path leading to the garden maze, the ache turns into a throb once it reaches his neck. By now, the mating bite is healed, though his skin is bruised a deep bluish-purple. He has heard that bruising and itchiness are normal side effects. Pain lasting a week seems excessive, but Jungkook wouldn’t know. No one prepared him to receive a mating bite; alphas do the biting. 

Brushing his fingers along the sensitive skin, Jungkook tries to think about how thankful he is that the skin healed, rather than how strange the bite feels. He swears it hurts more during the day, and eases at night. 

Maybe he should tell Taehyung. He considers the possibility as he kicks loose rocks from the path, scuffing up the toe of his boots. 

If he told Taehyung, then Taehyung might tell his parents, which means they would likely tell Jungkook’s parents. The last thing Jungkook needs is his parents sticking their noses in his married life. 

A shudder ripples up his spine at the thought. Married life—whatever that means. It’s obvious that Taehyung will treat him as an equal, which is all Jungkook can truly ask of him. But romance? Jungkook could laugh. He does, honestly! A good snort into the wind.

Taehyung can’t even hold Jungkook’s hand without looking as though he’s squeezing hot coals.

Of course, Taehyung’s rejection doesn’t hurt Jungkook’s feelings. Perhaps if he had presented as an omega, he could have found a home in his husband’s arms. The moment he woke up in a hot sweat, nineteen with a full-blown rut seething in his veins, he knew he had to give up his fantasies of Taehyung.

By the time Jungkook reaches the maze, his interest in playing around is gone. Mazes aren’t fun to run through alone.

“Well…” he sighs, contemplating going back to the palace. Perhaps he’ll find Hoseok-ssi to trail behind. It beats sulking about the halls while the royal court gossips about him.

But as he turns his back to the maze, he notices the white shine of sunlight catching on the roof of a glass building adjoined to the palace’s west wing. 

He follows an alternative path, one he makes on his own, cutting across walking gardens and picnic spots. No one ever mentioned the palace greenhouse. 

The warmth of moist air clings to Jungkook’s clothing and skin as he yanks open the metal-framed glass door. Sun streams through the clear roof, lighting up beads of condensation trickling down the foggy walls. Jungkook slips inside, carefully closing the door behind him with a thud that echoes through the quiet building. 

Through the greenhouse runs a different type of maze—one of shallow water that snakes around the plant beds and leads to a small pool at the center of the building. In the pool, a stone fountain of a young man pouring water back into the stream creates a never-ending flow of water. 

As Jungkook approaches, he finds that the fountain statue shares Taehyung’s boxy smile and asymmetrical eyes. 

“Taehyung has his own greenhouse, and didn’t tell me?” Jungkook asks the stone prince. 

Just as stoic as the real prince, the stone prince silently stares back. 

Annoyed that he’s annoyed by a piece of rock, Jungkook continues following the stream. There must be something to the power of nature because, as Jungkook inhales the pungent aroma of herbs, vegetables, and damp soil, he feels the pain in his body melt away.

There’s another scent Jungkook picks up, subtle beneath the other smells of the greenhouse—floral and sweet. It grows stronger as Jungkook wanders further until he comes to a large patch of unfamiliar flowers. 

“Smeraldo?” he reads aloud the little tag sticking out of the soil to identify the plant. Blue with purple accents around the edge of the petals, the flowers look almost iridescent in the sunlight. Jungkook squats beside the patch and reaches for the shiny green leaves. “They almost look fake...”

Just as the tip of Jungkook’s thumb brushes the soft curve of a leaf, a backdoor he hadn’t noticed swings open. 

He sees Taehyung’s pointed boots first, inky black next to the white and green cobblestone they step on. Long legs follow, carrying an enviable waist and broad shoulders through the threshold. But it’s the expression on Taehyung’s face that startles Jungkook. 

“What are you doing?” Taehyung’s dark eyes shift between Jungkook’s outstretched arm and the charming flowerbed. “You shouldn’t be in here.”

Blood rushing to Jungkook’s ears drowns out the rest of Taehyung’s scolding. Pain blossoms in Jungkook once again. He opens his mouth to speak, but his breath catches in his throat as the skin near his mating bite tingles. The sensation develops into a subtle burning that spreads downward from his chest. It sweeps over his body, rivaling the heat of the greenhouse itself and dampening his forehead with sweat. 

“Jungkook?”

“Sorry, Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook coughs out his apology from behind his hand. “I went for a walk.” 

With a frown, Taehyung takes a step toward Jungkook. The backdoor slams into its frame when he lets go of it. 

The sudden sound startles Jungkook as he stands. A loose cobblestone sends him tumbling backward, his nails clawing at Taehyung's arms and hands as he struggles to avoid ‌landing in the vibrant bed of flowers.

Jungkook’s fall sends a cloud of pollen to the ceiling. It shimmers in the sunlight, little falling stars floating back down to sprinkle him in gold glitter that stains his skin when he tries wiping it off. He can feel the pollen coating his nostrils and the back of his throat when he inhales. It thickens the air in his lungs, makes him cough until his chest hurts. 

But what concerns Jungkook the most is how the flowers’ prickly vines catch on his shirt and trousers. The harder he yanks his limbs to free them, the tighter the vines wrap around him.

“Taehyung.” Panic forces Jungkook to speak inappropriately, dropping the honorifics Taehyung has already told him not to use.

“You mustn’t move so much,” Taehyung’s tone is stern, close enough to an alpha command that the weak mating bond between them actually makes Jungkook’s body tremble. “I need to cut you loose.” 

From pollen coating his throat and vines squeezing his ribs, Jungkook’s breathing grows ragged. Each gasp makes him dizzier, knocking his eyes out of focus, until there are two Taehyungs standing in front of him holding two knives to his sternum. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung calls to him. “Do not move.”

Taehyung is so close, Jungkook can smell his scent through the pollen. Cedar and petrichor, an uncharted forest after a thunderstorm—it’s the calming scent Jungkook swaths himself in as he drifts to sleep every night. 

“Taehyung-ah,” Jungkook mimics the seriousness of Taehyung’s tone. He can’t hold the joke for long, though, and he wheezes a cloud of laughter into Taehyung’s face. 

Taehyung cuts the vine wrapped around Jungkook’s chest and ignores his inappropriate outburst. 

Below the surface of Jungkook’s sudden sense of humor, there is something deeply wrong happening to him. He can feel it, how the ache in his body melts into a pulsing heat that makes him want to crawl out of his skin and into Taehyung’s. 

“Our wedding,” Jungkook licks his lips and tastes something sweet, “was the only time you have ever laid your hands on me.”

For a moment, Taehyung stills. He lifts his gaze from where he holds Jungkook’s wrist to meet his eyes. 

“This is true,” Taehyung murmurs, his gaze dropping to the bruise on Jungkook’s neck. “And I am sorry for that.”

Jungkook doesn’t know what that means, nor does he want to wonder. So he keeps quiet while Taehyung removes more vines. Some are so tightly wrapped around his limbs and their thorns so deeply hooked into his clothes that Taehyung has to cut into the fabric as well.

After cutting the final vine, Taehyung slips his knife into the leather holster strapped around his calf and crouches in front of Jungkook again. 

“I’ll lift you out, and we must wash this pollen off of you before it gets worse.”

Jungkook doesn’t mean to slump like dead weight in Taehyung’s arms, but he loses himself in the earthiness of his scent. Jungkook’s own scent spikes once Taehyung carries him to the center of the greenhouse. Despite the overwhelming strength of their alpha scents, Jungkook thinks they go well together.

Heat pools low in Jungkook’s body as he breathes in the calming pheromones Taehyung releases. He wonders if it’s intentional, or if Taehyung is unsure whether he’ll have an effect on another alpha. 

Jungkook isn’t just any alpha. He’s Taehyung’s mate, no matter what. 

Inhaling deeply, Jungkook presses his face into the most vulnerable part of Taehyung. He noses at the collar of his shirt, trying to push away the restrictive fabric to reveal Taehyung’s scent gland. 

Any respectable alpha, especially a prince, would push Jungkook away. But Taehyung tilts his head, just a fraction, barely enough for Jungkook to notice. It gives Jungkook the room he needs to nuzzle into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Running the tip of his nose against the smooth skin, Jungkook sniffles like he’s trying to cleanse himself of the pollen by breathing Taehyung in instead. 

“Almost there,” Taehyung murmurs. Jungkook can feel his pulse underneath his skin, a steady thrum so different from the erratic beat of Jungkook’s.

Needing to be closer, Jungkook switches from nuzzling Taehyung with his nose to licking his skin. 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung hisses as Jungkook flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe up his scent gland. He tightens his grip on Jungkook, muscles going rigid. 

“You don’t smell like me.” 

Taehyung grits his teeth but remains silent. 

“I hate it,” Jungkook says truthfully, but it comes out of him unwillingly, as though he has taken a serum to spill his secrets to the very man they’re about. “My mate should smell like me.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond immediately. He takes his time setting Jungkook down at the stone fountain, then crouches in front of him with hands hovering between them like the secrets Jungkook can’t keep. 

“You need to undress,” Taehyung says quietly, his eyes never leaving Jungkook’s. “Can you do it on your own?”

The bond between them is weak, but it tugs, hot and demanding. There are too many things happening to Jungkook, inside of him, around him. The pollen makes him dizzy and sweaty. His mating bond calls to him. His old, childish dreams of happily marrying the prince with a boxy smile and asymmetrical eyes taunt him. 

Embarrassment, or at least the abhorrent etiquette lessons his mother forced on him, should stop Jungkook from tugging his clothes off. Yet he feels nothing but a sense of relief when he tosses his shirt on the ground, then his trousers and undergarments with it, until he’s standing before Taehyung as naked as he came into the world.

Taehyung stares into Jungkook’s eyes with what looks like a determination so fierce it’s scary. But Jungkook doesn’t care. He’s painfully hard, covered in glittery gold pollen, and dizzy with the desire to make Taehyung see him. 

“Touch me again,” Jungkook says softly. He holds Taehyung’s stare as he reaches for him, pressing his fingers against the pulse in his inner wrists, then skating them along his palms. When he gets to Taehyung’s fingers, he laces them with his own, and tugs. 

“Jungkook-ah, I cannot.”

Anger flares up in Jungkook’s chest.

“Why?” he demands, tugging Taehyung’s fingers again. He thinks he might cry—not out of sadness, but because he has nowhere to put these feelings that he doesn’t understand. 

Taehyung doesn’t move any closer, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“The Smeraldo flower is an aphrodisiac,” Taehyung says calmly, “that alchemists use to help with…” he closes his eyes and keeps them closed as he finishes, “the consummation of mating.”

That is what this heat is that pillages Jungkook’s already weary body. Desire. It makes him want to laugh, even in the desperate state he’s in. He’d never needed a stupid plant to make him want Taehyung. 

“It isn’t working on you…” The realization hits Jungkook like the Smeraldo pollen had: slowly, but full-force. It shouldn’t surprise him that Taehyung does not want him. His presentation sealed their fate. Still, it hurts. He yanks his arms back, releasing Taehyung’s hands, as anger turns to tears welling in his eyes. The most frustrating part is how badly his body still wants him. 

“Get this stuff off of me,” Jungkook takes a step into the pool, shooting his arms out to keep himself steady when he wobbles, “get this off me and take me home.”

Behind him, Taehyung lets out a long sigh. “I’m unaffected by the Smeraldo flower because it doesn’t work on mated alphas.” 

“How can that be true?” Jungkook glares at Taehyung, one hand clutching the stone statue as he lowers himself into the water. “I’m a mated alpha. Or did you forget that is what you’ve made me?” 

Taehyung flinches and finally casts his gaze away from Jungkook. He keeps his head down to pick at the buttons along his shirt, undoing them so slowly Jungkook can’t watch with how terribly his heart batters his ribs. 

As Jungkook had, Taehyung strips bare, leaving his clothes in a pile beside the pool. 

And unlike Taehyung, Jungkook lets his eyes wander. He can’t stop himself from looking, is nearly frantic as he takes in the tan, lean body before him. Every ripple of muscle, smattering of freckles, he draws a map in his mind, considers all the places he’d want to touch and kiss and lick and bite. He wants to mark Taehyung until they have matching bruises, wants his scent mixed into Taehyung’s DNA. And as his gaze falls on Taehyung’s cock, half-hard, Jungkook imagines what his knot would look like, maybe how it would feel swollen and pressed against him.

The pool is shallow, only reaching the middle of Taehyung’s thighs. He sinks down to sit beside Jungkook, who has turned the water gold with pollen.

“You are a virgin.”

Jungkook barks a laugh. He feels as though he’s going mad.

The frown Taehyung wears makes it clear that he doesn’t find the situation funny. 

“I wanted your first time to be special,” he says quietly. His eyes flicker, like he’s scanning Jungkook’s face. “Spent with someone you love, who can give you what an alpha needs.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, but Taehyung cuts him off with a shake of his head. 

“It should not be spent with another alpha, ten years your senior and a stranger to you. I have already taken too much. It would have been selfish of me.”

Beckoned by Taehyung to come closer, Jungkook lets him take his arm. It’s achingly gentle how Taehyung uses a cut strip of his own shirt to scrub off the pollen from his skin.

“You can say you are uninterested,” Jungkook mumbles. He feels calmer now, with most of the pollen off of him. But he’s still aroused, painfully so, and he still desires. 

Taehyung scoffs as he cleans off Jungkook’s neck. He’s careful not to press too hard on the mating bite bruise.

“I would have happily taken you on our wedding night,” Taehyung runs a wet thumb along Jungkook’s jaw, using the pressure to tilt his chin so their eyes meet. “And now that I see how this pollen has affected you, I know I was selfish for not doing so.”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter, and he leans into Taehyung’s touch. He doesn’t want to latch onto the hope Taehyung’s words bring him, even if he doesn’t fully understand them.

“What is wrong with me?” he asks, and for the first time in the greenhouse, shame licks hot at his skin, hotter than his desire. 

“Nothing, my prince.” Taehyung tickles the underside of Jungkook’s chin to encourage him to open his eyes. “Without consummation, I’ve left you only half-bonded. Not only that, but you are an alpha who never got to claim his mate.”

The implication of Taehyung’s words isn’t lost on Jungkook, even with the pollen’s influence muddling his brain. 

“I can’t claim you.” Jungkook’s eyes fly open, pupils blown wide. “This is your empire.”

Taehyung shrugs and drops the strip of cloth into the water. “It’s now your empire, too.”

“But that isn’t how this works.”

“I’m the prince, am I not?” Taehyung cocks his head to the side. “What social rules must I follow, really?”

Jungkook’s fingers find Taehyung’s in the water. “So, we consummate our mating, and then…” 

“I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much you are wanted, Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung smiles, lacing their fingers together, “and ensuring your happiness as my mate.” 

Staring into Taehyung’s sparkling eyes, Jungkook feels warm and floaty from the idea of a happily-ever-after he gave up on too early in life. Though Taehyung’s words may sound too good to be true, Jungkook feels his sincerity flicker in the bond between them and notices it in the happy spike of his scent. 

“And I will do the same for you,” Jungkook says, a bit of embarrassment catching up with him despite the fog in his brain. 

Taehyung allows Jungkook to guide his hand through the water. He’s kind, letting Jungkook move him slowly and not commenting on how his hand trembles, even underwater. They keep their gazes locked on one another as Taehyung’s hand wraps around Jungkook’s cock. 

“Oh,” Jungkook leans forward until his forehead rests against Taehyung’s shoulder. 

Taehyung’s fist glides over his cock easily in the water, though it doesn’t last for long. Jungkook gets on his knees, overwhelmed by the swiftness of Taehyung’s movements. He nearly climbs into Taehyung’s lap, trembling and sweating worse than he had before.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung tilts his head back to look up at Jungkook, who is sure his face is splotchy and embarrassing. 

How can Jungkook know if this is a normal reaction to the overwhelming reality of losing one’s virginity, or if the pollen is making him oversensitive? He supposes it doesn’t matter. 

That is, until Taehyung runs his palms up the backs of Jungkook’s legs in a comforting touch, only to pull away with something wet and slippery covering his hands. 

“Fuck,” Taehyung’s cursing sounds so foreign to Jungkook. He wants to make Taehyung do it again.

“What?” he asks through a shiver as Taehyung rubs his legs again. This time, he travels higher, until his hands rest just beneath Jungkook’s butt. 

“It’s… slick,” Taehyung slips his fingers between Jungkook’s ass cheeks and groans when more slick leaks out of him. 

Jungkook wraps his arms around Taehyung’s shoulders and buries his face in his neck as Taehyung circles his hole. It flutters with each touch, Taehyung coaxing more slick out of him. 

“The Smeraldo flower,” Taehyung murmurs, mostly to himself, to wrap his head around what’s happening. “It must impact you differently as an alpha who has been bitten.”

Whatever the reason, Jungkook doesn’t care. He reaches behind himself to grab Taehyung’s wrist. “Please, Taehyung.” 

Despite Jungkook’s fantasies about marriage and a happily-ever-after, he never lingered on the moment he would consummate his bond with his mate. Perhaps it was because he simply believed he would be an omega, and his alpha would know what to do. Once he presented as an alpha, he refused to consider what the moment would be like—for he believed it would never come. 

Still, it’s safe to say that Jungkook would have never thought he would make love for the first time under the influence of a strange sex plant, atop his vine-torn clothes, on the floor of a greenhouse. Jungkook is sure he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“Do you remember the day we met?” Taehyung asks from between Jungkook’s legs. 

“Y-yes,” Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut at the first touch of Taehyung’s cock pressed against his hole. 

Taehyung rubs the head of his cock against it a few times, coating his cock with slick. He assured Jungkook that, with how slippery his slick is, taking a knot won’t be as painful. That was after attempting to convince Jungkook not to take a knot at all—an idea Jungkook firmly rejected. His body aches for all of Taehyung, and he means it. 

“You refused to look at me,” Taehyung smiles, gentle and sweet, even as he slides the head of his cock inside Jungkook. He leans forward to adjust the clothes bunched into a makeshift pillow behind Jungkook’s head, then adjusts the clothes supporting Jungkook’s waist. 

“I was nervous.”

“I thought you hated me.”

Jungkook digs his fingers into Taehyung’s forearm as he sinks his cock a little deeper inside him. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels odd, too full. Slick gushes from Jungkook’s hole as Taehyung pulls back only to ease in again, sliding more of his cock in with the next slow thrust. 

“You were the smartest and most handsome person I had ever met,” Jungkook gasps through the halfway mark of taking Taehyung. 

Taehyung’s necklaces dangle above Jungkook’s face, swinging back and forth with each thrust. Jungkook feels like ‌‌jewelry, at the mercy of Taehyung, going wherever Taehyung takes him. It’s less scary than one would think. 

“Am I still?” Taehyung grins, boxy and wide. It’s a smile Jungkook has seen only a handful of times. When more slick leaks from him, Taehyung’s grin grows bigger. 

“Please, Taehyung.” Jungkook slides his fingers into Taehyung’s hair at the back of his head to gently encourage him forward. “Please don’t make me talk.”

“I am doing my best to distract you,” Taehyung murmurs against Jungkook’s mouth before biting his bottom lip. Taehyung bites it into his mouth, licking and sucking, and eventually pulling it back to lightly rake his teeth across it before letting go. 

Jungkook shakes his head before tilting it backward in a silent request for more kisses. “I want to feel you.”

Taehyung bottoms out after a few more thrusts. He keeps his promise to Jungkook by only taking a moment to pause, let them adjust and catch their breath. Then he fucks Jungkook with slow, long thrusts that pull back far and slide in deep. 

“How does it feel?” Taehyung doesn’t seek compliments; he checks in. 

Jungkook nods with a low groan. He can’t bring himself to say more, but the pleasant spike in his scent and the way his legs shake can tell Taehyung everything he needs to know. 

Perhaps one day Jungkook will see another side of Taehyung, one that isn’t as romantic or slow. But for Jungkook’s first time, after an emotionally tense day, week, two years, Jungkook relishes the pace Taehyung has set. He wraps his arms around Jungkook, pulling them close, until he’s almost completely on top of him. 

Each stroke stimulates the part of Jungkook that Taehyung said would feel good. No one teaches alphas about pleasure beyond knots. Jungkook had assumed only omegas had such a spot. It makes his body tremble, feeling that spot pressed and rubbed over and over. A warm, tingling sensation overtakes him, not too different from the pollen when he first fell into it.

“You’re about to come,” Taehyung breathes with his face tucked against Jungkook’s throat. “I can feel your body tensing up.”

“Mhm, yeah, yeah.”

“I want you to bite me when you do, okay, jagi?” Taehyung pulls back slightly to position his neck so Jungkook can more easily bite him. 

Excitement buzzes through Jungkook like an electric wave that mingles with the pleasurable sensation of Taehyung fucking him, deep and intentional. He wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist and gasps from the added sensation of his cock rubbing against Taehyung’s abdomen from how pressed together they are. 

It only takes a few more thrusts before Jungkook comes without even needing his knot to fully form. He latches onto Taehyung’s neck, leaving puncture wounds behind when he eventually releases his hold.

“Fuck, Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung growls. Jungkook can feel it rumble through his body. “Shit, it hurts.” 

Blood leaks into Jungkook’s mouth and drips down Taehyung’s neck. It leaves an iron taste that would have disturbed Jungkook if it weren’t for the fact that it’s the blood of the man he hopes to cherish and, one day, love beyond an arranged marriage and a mutual crush.

Taehyung whimpers when Jungkook finally lets him go. His arms shake, forcing him to sit up on his knees. When he moves, Jungkook feels his knot tug at his hole. He’d been so focused on his own orgasm and mating bite that he hadn’t realized Taehyung had orgasmed, too. 

“Your knot,” Jungkook feels like his tongue is too heavy to speak properly, and his eyelids keep drooping. Despite being right above his face, Jungkook watches Taehyung flicker in and out of his vision.

“Does it hurt?” Taehyung reaches down to touch the spot where they connect. “It will go down soon. Only a few more minutes, and then I’ll clean you up.” 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Jungkook says with his eyes fluttering closed. Not just the knot; Jungkook’s body no longer aches with the pain of an incomplete mating. “Feels nice, you feel nice.” 

Jungkook smiles with bloody teeth that don’t make Taehyung so much as flinch. On the contrary, he leans in to kiss Jungkook despite the blood in the cracks of his lips and the metallic taste of iron on his tongue. 

Later, when the pollen is fully out of his system and Taehyung has shown his parents what he has done with Jungkook, the panic and embarrassment might hit Jungkook a little harder. But he knows that, regardless of how others view their relationship, Jungkook can trust Taehyung. He already feels the strength of their bond, even without giving themselves time to settle into the new connection they have. He can smell himself on Taehyung, feel the swell of pride in his chest for being mated to an alpha unafraid of being claimed. 

It’s almost too much for Jungkook to comprehend. But for now, he is content with his bloody kisses atop soiled clothes ripped to shreds. He can bask in the warm glow of the sunlight streaming through the greenhouse’s glass room, watch the sun light up Taehyung’s pretty, tan skin, and feel happy for the first time in a long time.

@remmykinsff @rkiveslibrary

[hobipowers]

ACTUALLY ILLEGAL

[lilyblisslys]

there should be a cool, chill way to say things like “I’m struggling” or “I’m having a hard time” that doesn’t imply you might have needs

[gimmethatagustd]

Ooh ficlets! Canonverse a/b/o vmin? One of them goes into heat/rut during a show?

hi friend I just need to let you know that I’m writing this and it turned into more than just a ficlet 😵‍💫

[gimmethatagustd]

Yoongi as a mean Dom 😵‍💫🥴

lately I’ve been writing yoongi as a soft little innocent sub and it’s so funny how I went from “top hard dom alpha daddy Agust d” to “blushing boongi so baby” what happened to me

[jung-koook]

the way taehyung picks jungkook up so effortlessly 😅

[writingdose]

a writer’s struggle

[gimmethatagustd]

needy | jjk & myg

Jungkook refuses to admit that he has feelings for you, but he's slowly cracking under the pressure. Will his bright idea of asking his friend to seduce you be the final thing that helps him get over his interest in you?

Relationship: Jungkook x Reader x Yoongi

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Marijuana, Cuckolding (except they fail lol), Humiliation, Jungkook Has a Degradation Kink, yoongi and jungkook are kinda like “good cop/bad cop” except jungkook is more of a sub than he thinks he is, Switch Jungkook, Soft Dom Yoongi, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Blow Jobs, Deepthroating, Cunnilingus

Word Count: 4,272 

A/N: Wrote this for the bisexuals tbh.  

Soundtrack: like i would - zayn  

PART ONE | PART TWO

“Hey, love. Can I call you love?” 

You give Yoongi a bashful smile and nod your head. He brings his hand to your thigh, softly running his fingers along your exposed skin. 

The three of you sit in Jungkook’s apartment, with you and Yoongi on the couch and Jungkook in a chair on the other side of the room. Jungkook nurses a half-finished blunt between his lips and allows the marijuana to fog his memories of how he’d gotten here. 

You giggle at whatever Yoongi whispers in your ear, your freshly manicured fingers pressing against your lips. Jungkook undoes the button at the neck of his dress shirt and shoulders his suit jacket off. He’d forgotten he was still wearing it. 

Leaning back, Jungkook watches you squirm when Yoongi’s hand reaches the hem of your skirt. You stare at Yoongi with heavy red eyes. His eyes match yours, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Your sorority formal was a bust, not to Jungkook’s surprise. Spending the night in a seedy nightclub, humid with the stench of sweat and beer, with a bunch of wasted college kids wasn’t exactly Jungkook’s idea of fun.

He told himself a thousand times that he wouldn’t agree to go with you. Yet Jungkook put on his only suit and slicked back his hair, which was getting to be a bit too long. He spent an hour pregaming with your lame friends, who Jungkook believes really shouldn’t be your friends, and another hour and a half dancing at the nightclub that was just as terrible as he knew it would be. 

Had he had fun? Absolutely the fuck not. The moment you started grinding your ass on his dick when more sexually explicit music started playing, he’d quickly snatched your wrist and dragged you out of the club. Now you’re in Jungkook’s apartment, stumbling home in the middle of the night, all dolled up and looking prettier than Jungkook has ever seen you.

It was just a coincidence that you ran into Yoongi, Jungkook’s neighbor and decent friend, in the hallway of their apartment complex. The thing is, Jungkook saw the way Yoongi eyed you in your little black skirt that just barely covered your ass and the swell of your tits bubbling out of your corset. He saw the way Yoongi licked his lips, pausing longer than necessary to chat with the two of you as he fumbled with the keys to his apartment.

Jungkook still isn’t sure what he was thinking when he invited Yoongi over when it had been clear that he was dragging you home to fuck you, but you didn’t protest when your night turned into a smoke session with Jungkook’s friend. 

A few blunts later, Jungkook had pulled Yoongi into the kitchen while you lounged on the couch. 

“You want me to what?” 

“Fuck her.” 

“Like, right now?” Yoongi had taken in a sharp inhale as his eyes widened. “Does she like me?” 

Jungkook had rolled his eyes in response, passing the blunt to his friend while he searched for words. It wasn’t fair to act like Yoongi was the idiot here when Jungkook asked something highly unexpected out of him, not to mention that Jungkook wasn’t being honest about why. 

“Yeah, I know the face she makes when she’s interested. She keeps looking at you like that.” Had he been lying? Maybe. Yoongi is cute, objectively. You probably think so, too. The fuck if Jungkook knows. 

All Jungkook knows is that he needs his favorite hookup to get the fuck out of his head. He’s tired of seeing your face when he fucks other people. He’s tired of opening and closing Instagram just to refresh your profile. He’s tired of caving whenever you text him to come over, always staying the night despite Jungkook’s no-sleepovers rule. 

Yoongi is a good friend. He’s consistent, reliable, and open-minded. Plus, weed makes Yoongi horny anyway. Jungkook is honestly doing him a favor. 

But something stirs in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach when Yoongi finally slips his hand beneath your skirt after playing at the hem. Compared to Jungkook, what Yoongi lacks in size and strength he makes up for in the softer features Jungkook knows girls like: large hands, plush lips, and gentle eyes. Yoongi’s ass might even be a tad bit fatter than his, too, but Jungkook isn’t looking at another dude’s ass. 

“You’re cute,” Yoongi murmurs. 

“Th-Thank you,” you say with a small sigh. 

“Wanna give me a kiss, love?” 

When your lips connect, Jungkook turns away. The soft moan that falls from your mouth shoots like electricity straight to his cock, but Jungkook struggles to lift his eyes. He has no desire to watch his friend shove his tongue down your throat. 

But isn’t that the point? Perhaps Jungkook has forgotten what he’d wanted to gain from this. 

“Is our Jungkookie feeling left out?” 

Yoongi’s light teasing brings Jungkook out of his head. He finally looks up to see you’re now straddling Yoongi’s lap, arms loosely wrapped around his neck. You turn back to look at Jungkook, and he sees something akin to guilt flash in your eyes. It disappears once Yoongi runs his tongue up your throat, the sensation making your head fall back and lips part. 

Jungkook squeezes his fists against his thighs. His eyes lock with Yoongi’s, and the other man gives him a wink as he suckles the skin below your jaw. 

I asked for this. I asked for this. I asked for this. 

Jungkook is beginning to feel lightheaded. He shifts in his seat and realizes he isn’t breathing. His heart pounds so violently in his chest that he feels he might go into cardiac arrest. 

“Y/N, get the fuck over here,” Jungkook growls. His voice is deep and tight and cuts through the quiet living room as sharp as ice. 

You shoot up, re-adjusting your skirt from it being shoved around your waist. Yoongi watches with cat-like eyes as you wobble over to stand between Jungkook’s legs. He doesn’t utter a word, only cocks his head to the side and keeps his eyes on Jungkook. 

Jungkook makes a point of ignoring Yoongi. He turns his attention to you, grabbing your wrists and pulling you forward so you meet him at eye level. 

“Is he turning you on?” You tremble, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze. He pulls on your wrists again, tightening his grip on you. “Use your words.” 

When you still don’t speak, Jungkook reaches under your skirt to rip your thong down your legs. He slides his fingers through your pussy, toying at your entrance. When he pulls away, a sticky string of your arousal attaches to his fingers before eventually breaking off. 

“Look how wet you are for him. You fucking slut.” 

Jungkook hears Yoongi make a surprised noise from the couch, but he doesn’t bother looking. He keeps his attention on you because you’re all he ever wants to focus on. 

“Yes,” you finally admit. You stare into Jungkook’s eyes with swollen lips bitten between your teeth. 

“You want him to fuck you?” Jungkook squints at you, already knowing the answer. But he wants to hear you say it. He needs the confirmation that you want someone other than him, that someone else can pleasure you, potentially even better than he can. He needs you to tell him that you don’t want him. 

Jungkook pulls down your skirt to let it pool around your ankles with your underwear. You let out a small whimper, but he knows you know better than to stay silent. 

“Y-Yes.” 

“Yes, what?” Jungkook lets go of your wrists to rip open the lace corset you’re wearing. Your tits spill out, and he fights the urge to bring his mouth to them. 

“Yes, I want him to fuck me.” 

Jungkook twirls you around so you have your back to him. He pulls you into his lap, positioning his knees between your legs so he can force you to spread open, on display for Yoongi. 

“Do you want to fuck her?” Jungkook’s jaw muscles twitch beneath his skin as he bites into his molars. His hands snake forward to caress the inside of your thighs, daring to swipe his fingers through your dripping folds. “She’s a needy little slut.” He spits the words more for you than for Yoongi. 

Yoongi is hard. His already skin-tight jeans stretch across his groin so tightly that Jungkook is sure even pinching the fabric between two fingers would be impossible. He can relate to his friend: Jungkook’s pants are too tight around his hips from his erection, but he ignores his arousal. 

“Fuck, yeah.” Yoongi’s voice comes out hoarse and low, and Jungkook feels you clench your thighs when he speaks.

“Great.” Jungkook grits his teeth. He pushes you off of him and rises to his feet. 

You stand between Jungkook and Yoongi, eyeing both men with a hint of… curiosity, perhaps, in your expression. If you’re confused by what’s going on, then you aren’t the only one because Jungkook doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. He assumed you would put your clothes back on and go next door to Yoongi’s apartment. The two of you would fuck, and Jungkook would force himself to take a cold shower and think about how you were Yoongi’s now. 

But Yoongi doesn’t move, and neither do you. 

“Well?” Jungkook knows gritting his teeth is bad for him, but he can’t help but seethe with irritation – largely at himself, but you and Yoongi are perfect scapegoats even though Jungkook did this all on his own. 

“You don’t want us to stay here?” Yoongi’s eyes drop to the bulge in Jungkook’s pants. He licks his lips and returns to Jungkook’s face. 

It hadn’t ever crossed Jungkook’s mind that staying was an option. 

When Jungkook doesn’t respond, Yoongi turns to you. He gives you a gentle smile, softer and prettier than Jungkook has ever given you. “What do you want, love? Do you want JK to watch?” 

Drawing your bottom lip into your mouth, you grin as you bite your lip and nod. “Yeah, I do.” Your eyes drift from Yoongi’s to Jungkook’s, and your expression falls momentarily. “Unless you don’t want me, too, JK.” 

Jungkook shakes his head, speaking before he can stop himself. “I always want you.” 

It might feel like the wrong thing to say, but it makes you happy, and Jungkook is realizing too quickly that making you happy is what he wants the most out of everything else. 

So when he finds himself standing beside his bed, shirtless, watching Yoongi removing the last of his clothing, Jungkook wonders just how much this is going to fuck him up in the head. Because there’s no way he’s walking away from this the same as he was when he went into it. Even though he’s frustrated and high and ready to prove something to himself (what, he doesn’t know), Jungkook can’t shake the thought that maybe he’s going about all this wrong. 

“Oh fuck, Yoongi, oh my god,” you squeal, throwing your head back into the bed. Yoongi sucks on your clit, and how his jaw works against your lips tells Jungkook that he’s likely lapping at your clit with his tongue. 

“She tastes so fucking good,” Yoongi moans with glistening lips. 

Jungkook’s mouth starts to water. He knows. Fuck, he knows. You’re sweet and creamy and so fucking warm. 

“Why don’t you come over here?” Yoongi turns his head to the side to lock eyes with Jungkook as he slathers his tongue through your folds. He licks a long, slow stripe up your pussy, purposefully gathering your arousal on his tongue so strings of it attach to his lips when he pulls away – all the while keeping his eyes on Jungkook. “Taste her with me, Jungkookie.” 

Joining them hadn’t been the plan. Even watching hadn’t been the plan. Yet Jungkook finds himself maneuvering around Yoongi, so they both can settle between your thighs. 

Yoongi lowers his head to run his tongue around your entrance. The new position makes more room for Jungkook to lean forward. Keeping his eyes on you rather than Yoongi, Jungkook tentatively flicks his tongue against your clit. 

A moan rips from your throat as you feel the double stimulation of Jungkook licking and sucking your clit while Yoongi plunges his tongue inside you. You immediately buck your hips, but Yoongi holds them down firmly. It’s easier than he expected. A stupid little voice in his head comments that he and Yoongi work well together. 

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god.” Your moans sound strained and wet. 

With your legs spread between Jungkook and Yoongi’s shoulders, it’s impossible for you to close your legs. Jungkook’s eyes fly open when he feels Yoongi dig his fingers into his scalp. Holding a solid grip on Jungkook’s hair, Yoongi maneuvers his head for his tongue to hit your clit just right, sending you over the edge. You cum with a scream that’s muffled by Yoongi’s free hand pressing against your mouth. 

When Yoongi finally allows Jungkook to lift his head for air, he maintains his hold on his hair. Your arousal glistens on Jungkook’s lips in a thick, sticky layer. Before Jungkook can catch his breath, Yoongi pulls his head forward to crash his lips against Jungkook’s. 

Jungkook inhales sharply as Yoongi’s tongue glides along his lips, licking off your slippery arousal and leaving his spit behind. When Jungkook’s lips part slightly, Yoongi’s tongue finds its way in, licking at the inside of Jungkook’s mouth. Yoongi grabs Jungkook’s thigh for support as he leans in, and Jungkook feels his cock twitch in his briefs. It’s alarming, but it feels good. Surprisingly good, to let his friend suck his bottom lip into his mouth. 

“So pretty,” Yoongi hums, pulling Jungkook’s head back to let his eyes roam over the younger man’s features as his cheeks turn bright pink. “Pretty boy.” 

You whine from being neglected for too long, and Yoongi quickly lets go of Jungkook to cradle your face in his hands and kiss you instead. It’s gentle and soft, just like Yoongi had kissed Jungkook. 

“Would you like it, love?” Yoongi speaks softly to you, his long fingers tracing hypnotizing patterns into the soft skin of your thighs. “Want to watch me suck our Jungkookie off?” 

“Oh.” Jungkook feels like he got punched in the gut. 

You give him a sly smile as you nod your head. “I do. I really do.” 

Jungkook tightly fists the sheets with both hands as Yoongi leans down to kiss the head of his cock through his briefs, right where a large wet spot is forming. He flinches slightly, but the action has him bucking into Yoongi’s face rather than pulling away. 

Everything in him screams that this is not how the night was supposed to go, but he still lifts his hips as Yoongi drags his briefs over his ass and past his thighs. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest once his briefs are completely pulled off his legs, and Yoongi is reaching up to take Jungkook’s cock in his large fist. 

Yoongi keeps his eyes locked on Jungkook’s as he slowly sticks his tongue out and gives it a few light taps with Jungkook’s cock. The dark, heavy eyes Yoongi watches him with have Jungkook’s face heating up. 

“Not the cocky dom anymore, are you, Jungkookie?” Yoongi purs smugly. 

For a moment, Jungkook forgets that you are sitting beside him, waiting with your legs open for him to play with your pussy. All he can do is watch as Yoongi slips the head of his cock into his warm mouth and swirls his skillful tongue around the ridge of his head. Jungkook gasps when Yoongi gives him a hard suck and slips more of him into his mouth until the head of Jungkook’s cock is nudging the back of Yoongi’s throat. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans, one hand reaching down to grab a fistful of Yoongi’s thick hair and the other reaching over to slip two fingers inside you. When Yoongi swallows around his throbbing cock, more profanity spews from Jungkook’s open mouth. “Ohh, shit, oh shit.” 

Smug, Yoongi lifts off of Jungkook’s cock and turns toward you, pulling you into a kiss by the back of your head. With his grip still on you, Yoongi guides you toward Jungkook’s cock. 

“Your turn, love,” Yoongi murmurs roughly, and it takes all of Jungkook’s self-control not to bust a nut right there.

His cock is shiny from Yoongi’s spit. You wrap your lips around the tip, suckling it. Yoongi massages your tits as you bob your head, and Jungkook spreads his legs, his thighs pressing against your and Yoongi’s chests. 

“Shit, wait,” Jungkook huffs, trying to push the two of you away from him. “Gotta stop.”

He’s honestly a bit flustered by all the attention, which is a new feeling for him. Having never experienced a threesome before, Jungkook doesn’t quite know what to do with himself – especially with another man involved. Especially when that other man is his friend. 

“Let’s give our love some more attention, hm?” Yoongi reaches for you with a gentle touch. 

You lie flat on your back and lift your legs as Yoongi kneels between them. He squeezes the backs of your thighs to push your legs to your chest and hold them open. 

While Yoongi maneuvers you into a comfortable position, you tilt your head to look up at where Jungkook kneels beside you. His cock dangles near your face, and it embarrassingly kicks up when you give him a small smile. It used to piss him off and still does, but he’s become familiar with the ache in his chest when you give him that look. Adoration isn’t something he deserves, and he knows it. 

“Ready, love?” When Jungkook looks up, Yoongi is holding the base of his cock as he rubs the tip between your slick folds. You let out a breathy “Yeah” that Jungkook just barely registers. 

Something like jealousy, but not as envious and more aggressive, rumbles in Jungkook’s chest. You and Jungkook never wear protection because he knows he’s the only person fucking you, and Jungkook always wears protection with everyone else. There’s trust between you, which developed organically as you learned about each other over time. Even though this was all entirely his idea, the sudden realization that someone else is about to fuck you raw has Jungkook grinding his molars so terribly he might need to see a dentist.

He’s about to say something when Yoongi lets go of his cock for a moment, and Jungkook can better see that he’s wearing a thin, clear condom. 

Whatever the fuck was going rabid inside of Jungkook’s chest settles down at that realization, though his nerves are starting to get the better of him. That is, until your hand glides up the side of Jungkook’s thigh, bringing his attention back down to you. 

“Hi,” you whisper. 

The corners of Jungkook’s mouth twitch as he whispers a greeting back. It’s such a juvenile thing to say when he’s got his cock in your face and Yoongi’s rubbing his own in circles around your clit. But Jungkook doesn’t care. Internally, he chastises himself for growing soft. Not his dick! But his heart. He’s emotionally soft, and it’s everything he said he wouldn’t let happen. 

“Are you ready?” Your eyes are attentive and bright when you ask, and Jungkook feels himself falling deeper into whatever part of himself is reserved just for you. He’s not ready. But he has to be.

Yoongi can hear; he’s right there, but he politely waits for your small interaction to run its course before he says anything. 

“Ready?” He repeats himself, but it’s quiet and nowhere near impatient. 

“Mhm, please,” you beg, and it sounds so much different when you beg for Yoongi than when you beg for Jungkook. Yoongi coos and praises you and gives you rewards for begging. Jungkook realizes he uses your desire to punish you. 

Interestingly, you get off on both. 

You let out a breathy moan as Yoongi slides inside you, your mouth falling open and your eyes fluttering. But you keep them open, even as your eyelids grow heavy so that you can stare into Jungkook’s. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook hears Yoongi curse.

Your body jolts forward when Yoongi bottoms out and then pulls back to snap his hips against yours. Every thrust brings you closer to Jungkook. He watches you with a burning stomach as you hold out your tongue, pressing the tip to the underside of his cock to lap at the precum dribbling from his slit. 

“God, you’re so fucking,” Yoongi lets out a string of curses, but Jungkook has all his focus on the way your face contorts as Yoongi starts pounding into you. 

“Harder.” You moan the request to Yoongi – who obliges – but you stare into Jungkook’s eyes as you do it. 

Tilting your head further, you lap at the underside of Jungkook’s cock again. 

“Jungkookie.” The sound of Yoongi moaning his name makes Jungkook’s stomach flip. “She’s being such a, fuck, good girl for us. Give baby what she wants.” 

Yoongi’s cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink, and his dark hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. For a moment, Jungkook gets lost in examining Yoongi. Even though he’s intensely pounding into you, there isn’t anything aggressive about his technique. He caresses your legs, kisses your calves, and moans little praises. 

“Oh my god, Yoongi. Oh fuck, right, r-r-right there, please don’t stop.” You scramble to hold onto something, your nails eventually digging into Jungkook’s thigh. He hisses but doesn’t tell you to let go. 

“Shit.” 

It’s a delayed response, but Jungkook finally moves closer to your face. With one hand holding the base of his cock and the other cradling your chin, he guides his cock into your mouth. 

“That’s it,” Yoongi groans, one hand pressing against your abdomen. “Fuck her throat, Jungkook-ah.” 

It’s so dirty the way you moan against Jungkook’s cock as he fucks your mouth. He keeps your head angled in a way that doesn’t hurt you and does his best to time his thrusts with Yoongi’s. It takes a few attempts before the two men find a good rhythm, but once they do, Jungkook honestly isn’t sure how long he’ll be able to last.

It’s loud and sloppy, fucking your throat as you drool around his cock. Jungkook can’t take his eyes off of your face. Tears slide down your temples, and your throat bulges with every thrust, but it’s the vibrations from your moans as Yoongi fucks into you that really shoot electricity up Jungkook’s cock. Everything is wet and warm, and even the sound of Yoongi’s moans gets to his head as he spirals. 

A hand presses against Jungkook’s chin, tilting his face up and away from looking down at you. His hips falter slightly, but he maintains a shallow, slow thrust that allows you to catch your breath. It’s Yoongi beckoning Jungkook. His fingers dig into Jungkook’s jaw as he leans forward, his hips pushing harder against yours to capture Jungkook’s lips in his. 

Jungkook feels you pull back slightly, and your tongue swirls around the head of his cock while your lips suckle him. At the same time, Yoongi slides his hand up to grab a fistful of Jungkook’s hair and tugs it. 

“Are you gonna cum, baby boy?” Yoongi whispers against Jungkook’s lips, and Jungkook chokes out a moan as bright lights explode in his vision. 

He cums into your mouth with a moan that’s swallowed up by Yoongi, who continues to fuck into you. He lets go of Jungkook’s hair and brings his fingers down to play with your clit, ensuring you reach your orgasm before he eventually does. Jungkook hardly notices any of it; he’s too exhausted to do anything but sit back on his heels and let his head hang forward as he waits for his breathing to regulate. 

Yoongi gets up and slips down the hall, discarding the used condom in the bathroom trash and bringing back a warm, damp washcloth. He’s careful as he massages the inside of your thighs, even more so when he carefully lifts Jungkook’s cock to clean him up, too.

Jungkook lets him, now sprawled on his back on the bed beside you, tells himself that this doesn’t have to mean anything even though his heart feels full and his body is buzzing with a warmth that feels like more than just an orgasm. 

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you say softly. Yoongi boops your nose with his index finger. 

“Don’t need to thank me, love. I had fun.” Yoongi eases onto the bed, lying on his side next to you. “I had fun with both of you.” 

Jungkook has two pairs of eyes on him, searching for something in the same way he’s searching your faces. 

“JK?” You reach up to run your fingers through Jungkook’s hair. 

Jungkook lets out a small hum, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling. “You’re not too bad, I guess,” he says with as nonchalant of a tone as he can. But his poker face turns into a grin when you slap his bare chest, and Yoongi chuckles from the other side of the bed. 

“You’re so full of yourself, Jeon Jungkook.” 

Jungkook still doesn’t know what to do with you, but now he’s got Yoongi, too. He’s realizing maybe it doesn’t have to be as hard as he’s making it out to be. 

[skzhotpot]

Oh no Babydoll was great and then you had to go add Yoongi and give us a little mxm and it got BETTER 😛😛😛😛

[gimmethatagustd]

yoonkook is just SO GOOD and i really don't give them enough attention !! i'm glad you liked both the fics~ thank you for reading/reblogging!

[gimmethatagustd]

keep singing this lie (7) | kth + jjk

Summary: 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

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Chapter WC: 5,535

Chapter CW: Yoongi is a villain!!, Jealous Taehyung, Anal Fingering (in public), I got really emotional writing this chapter (and the next one) i'm ngl

A/N: i spent a lot of time reworking the outline for this fic cuz i didn't like what i had written/where i wanted the story to go. i updated the chapter count and now i'm scared LOL. anywayyy, i apologize for leaving this on a cliffhanger but i've been feeling miserable about not posting regularly lately (it's the Depression and ADHD), so i hope you'll think "a cliffhanger update is better than no update"

Fic Masterlist

Taehyung doesn’t know if consuming sweets for breakfast is a unique tradition in the U.S., but for some reason it was the thing that set him off when he followed Jimin to the other side of the world. It wasn’t getting a passport, navigating visas, or sneaking out of his family’s apartment in the early hours to catch a red-eye flight that broke him. With a less-than-beginner’s vocabulary and wide eyes, Taehyung sat down at some dingy diner a fifteen-minute drive from Chicago O’Hare International Airport, his lone suitcase crammed under the table alongside Jimin’s, and nearly burst into tears when the waitress slid a stack of chocolate chip-loaded pancakes in front of him.

In all honesty, Taehyung can’t remember why he got so upset. Had his eyes welled with tears of joy? Was he horrified by the sugary monstrosity? There was something about the transition from kimchi to sticky syrup that he hadn’t been prepared for.

Taehyung runs his tongue over his front teeth and remembers how he’d gagged after eating a spoonful of butter, thinking it had been a scoop of ice cream. Now, he sits in front of fluffy pancakes topped with assorted berries and powdered sugar, and a large salted caramel latte off to the side, and tries not to consider how much of him is still exactly the same.

“I feel like I’m too dirty to be here,” Seokjin whispers against the side of Taehyung’s face. Taehyung wants to turn and laugh, but he can’t break away from Jungkook’s smiling face.

Across the table, Jungkook sits close enough to Yoongi that they keep bumping elbows while they eat. It turns out Agust D isn’t the pretentious, selfish, famous musician Taehyung had expected him to be.

Well, Taehyung thinks he’s pretentious, but the rest of Black Swan disagrees, so what the fuck does he know?

Two days after Spine Breaker, they’re sitting in a boutique cafe in the festival city’s downtown, racking up a bill that will total more than what their gigs sometimes offer. Yoongi said he’ll cover it, along with the expense of reserving the back room so they would have more privacy as they ate brunch. Because apparently Yoongi gets recognized when he goes out, and finds it “tiresome”. Taehyung wouldn’t know.

“Do you like living in New York?” Jimin asks Yoongi, pulling Taehyung from his thoughts to return to the conversation—if one can call it that. It has mostly been a Q&A with the alternative rapper, just shy of an interrogation from two eager fans.

“It’s definitely entertaining,” Yoongi offers with a shrug. He leans back in his chair, swirls his champagne flute, the bright orange mimosa twirling at a leisurely pace that matches his relaxed posture. “I prefer Chicago, though. I spend time there more than New York, when I can.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes grow wide. “We’re from Chicago!”

I’m from Daegu, Taehyung wants to interject. But he bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to think about how pink Jungkook’s cheeks get when Yoongi touches his shoulder.

“No wonder you’re so talented. I swear, Chicago produces the best talent. The music scene is more genuine.” Yoongi’s grin is gummy and sweet, or so Jimin said after they met at the Agust D meet and greet during Spine Breaker Fest.

Apparently, Black Swan’s performance, as well as Jimin and Jungkook’s auras, had made such an impression on Yoongi that he wanted to spend his last day in town with them.

Taehyung and Seokjin had stayed behind for the meet and greet, trying to finish cleaning out the Emo Mobile before dusk. Since the festival lasted all weekend, they got to camp out at the RV lot, an insignificant speck of rust and puke green metal in a sea of high-end tour buses. Sure, there were plenty of bands at Spine Breaker who were just as ragtag of a group as Black Swan, but Taehyung likes to pretend they’re the only ones. Rather than be ashamed, he feels a sense of pride in making it to a festival that big with what little resources and industry pull they have. Black Swan is for everyday misfits just trying to make it out alive.

Unlike Yoongi, with his gold Rolex and black card.

Well, maybe it’s not really a Rolex or a black card. Maybe it’s just an average watch and Yoongi actually has major credit card debt. Maybe Taehyung is grinding his molars and thinking about punching that smug grin off Yoongi’s face as Jimin and Jungkook gush over how cool it is to be getting brunch with their favorite musician.

Fuck, he needs about twenty mimosas right now. This conversation would be so much less painful if he could get even a little tipsy.

Taehyung gulps down his water. Just as he’s about to put the glass back, a waiter arrives with a huge pitcher and refills it without a word. Being doted on by a stranger makes Taehyung’s skin crawl.

“And what about you, Taehyung?” Yoongi asks after taking a sip of his mimosa. His eyebrows arch in anticipation.

Taehyung doesn’t mean to snap, but his response is dry and clipped. “What.”

Jimin narrows his eyes at Taehyung over his mimosa, poured in a standard water glass because he always spills champagne flutes.

“Is this the life you’ve always imagined as a musician?” Something about Yoongi’s tone sounds condescending, like Taehyung hasn’t met some standard he isn’t aware of.

Taehyung crosses his arms against his chest with a snort. “It’s Black Swan or nothing.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin adds through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. He’s only half-listening; Taehyung doesn’t blame him.

Yoongi’s grin widens, and Taehyung hates it.

“Loyalty, I admire that,” Yoongi says, like it’s some fantastic feat.

Taehyung holds Yoongi’s gaze. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Beside Yoongi, Jungkook squirms in his seat. His front teeth nibble at his lip ring. Taehyung only feels a little bad.

“I suppose,” Yoongi shrugs before tipping his head back to finish the last of his mimosa. “Sometimes that line of thinking is a bit stifling, though, isn’t it?”

Jimin and Jungkook lock onto every word that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth, like this cafe is a riverbed and Yoongi is Jesus preparing a baptism. Taehyung’s gaze slides to Seokjin for backup, but he’s shoveling more food in his mouth.

“I don’t know. Is it?”

Yoongi interlocks his fingers under his chin and lets his eyes roam Taehyung’s face. “Take Jungkook, for example.”

Jungkook perks up after hearing his name. It makes Taehyung’s stomach flip.

“What about him?” Taehyung asks, attempting to level his voice this time.

“He’s brilliant, isn’t he? You rarely come across vocals like his in a genre like this. There’s so much he could do” — Yoongi waves one hand in a sweeping motion across the table — “a whole assortment of opportunities, laid out like a buffet, to pick apart.”

“So true,” Jimin says, nodding along. “We could experiment more with our music, if we wanted to. I don’t know why we haven’t.”

The conversation morphs into a discussion about musicians who have changed their musical style over time, from Bring Me the Horizon to Mac Miller. Taehyung plops a strawberry in his mouth and wonders what the point is. Black Swan is fine how they are. What they’ve been doing is what got them to Spine Breaker Fest, right? Now that they’ve finally got more eyes on them, why would they switch things up?

For the rest of brunch, Taehyung falls into himself, a quiet observer. It helps that Seokjin seems uninterested in the conversation, too. The two men exchange remarks with one another, content with carrying on their own side conversation about Taehyung accidentally staining the pristine white tablecloth and Seokjin coming back from the bathroom, flustered from not knowing how to flush the fancy toilet.

Seokjin and Taehyung get so caught up in avoiding their peers that Taehyung almost misses Yoongi’s departing message.

“Really, though, I meant what I said earlier,” Yoongi talks like he’s speaking to all four of them, but he has his arm draped around Jungkook’s shoulders as they exit the cafe’s front doors.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook is cute when he’s hesitant, like every word he says is intentional, mulled over in his head before he speaks. Meanwhile, Taehyung thinks the filter between his thoughts and words is broken.

Outside, the heat prickles the back of Taehyung’s neck. He misses how much gentler the summer is back home—in Chicago, not home home. He can hardly remember summer at home.

“We can plan a time to meet up at my studio once I’m back in town. By that point, I’ll have a key you can keep.”

“That’s so generous,” Jungkook smiles, his gaze bouncing between Yoongi and Jimin. “I, um, I don’t even…”

Taehyung and Seokjin trail behind the other three with furrowed eyebrows. Seokjin is frowning at a text message from his landlord complaining that his mailbox is filling up from being away from home for so long. Taehyung is frowning at how Yoongi’s large hand curls around Jungkook’s bare shoulder exposed by his sleeveless tank shirt.

“Our little Kookoo-yah isn’t good with words sometimes,” Jimin says with a giggle, the softest thing about him other than the glee in his eyes.

Jungkook laughs softly, ducking his head. Yoongi doesn’t know that Jungkook doesn’t like being touched by strangers. Taehyung knows, though.

“It’s really kind of you,” Jungkook finally says once Yoongi lets him go.

Yoongi shrugs, so nonchalant, like he’s offering anything less than a professional studio Black Swan could never afford. They practice in Seokjin’s garage and rent out a recording room downtown once they’ve got the money saved up—but only until they’re done.

“I saw how you all perform,” Yoongi continues. “You’ve got something people need these days. I’d be fucking stupid not to help you out.”

Even Seokjin expresses his gratitude, shaking Yoongi’s hand once they reach the parking lot. The Emo Mobile looks like Shrek parked next to Yoongi’s Prince Charming of a Mercedes.

“Have safe travels back to the city. I’ll see you around.”

Yoongi bows his head, a gesture that’s quick and sharp. He doesn’t offer Taehyung his hand, just smiles like he knows Taehyung wouldn’t shake it and doesn’t care either way.

“That whole experience was kind of fucking crazy, if you think about it,” Seokjin says once the band is in the van and Yoongi is long gone. “Really fucking weird, but in a good way, I guess.”

“Weird? Are you kidding? Agust D thinks we’re hot shit!” Jimin screeches just loud enough in a confined space to give Taehyung an immediate piercing headache.

Seokjin hits the curb when he pulls out of the parking lot, jostling Taehyung in the passenger seat. It makes Taehyung realize he hasn’t put his seatbelt on yet, too busy staring out the window at himself in the side-view mirror.

“It’s definitely weird,” Taehyung says after Jimin finishes gushing about how cool and smart Yoongi is. “Why the fuck does he care what we’re doing?”

Seokjin gives Taehyung a sideways glance, just long enough to jut his chin in an upward nod, before he focuses on the road again. Taehyung doesn’t get why Seokjin won’t back him up. Seokjin is the unofficial leader; he should do something.

Annoyed, Taehyung turns toward the window again. He props his head up by resting his elbow on the window and holding his chin in his hand. The summer heat ruffles his bangs like hot breath blown across his face, winning against the tired blow of the Emo Mobile’s air conditioning.

“And, oh my god, he was so fucking hot,” Jimin gushes. “That long orange hair…”

From the back of the van, Jimin and Jungkook talk amongst themselves, accepting that Seokjin and Taehyung aren’t going to match their level of enthusiasm.

“It was different seeing him in person, definitely,” Jungkook says with a small laugh.

Seokjin taps Taehyung on the shoulder with the aux cord without looking away from the road. Nodding, Taehyung pulls his phone from his back pocket and turns up the volume on the radio.

#

Taehyung isn’t a jealous person. He doesn’t care enough about what other people do to get jealous, and most people who know him would easily confirm that his ego is so big that it’s unlikely he even has the capacity to get jealous. So when Jimin asks Taehyung if he’s jealous after he learns Jungkook has been texting Yoongi ever since they met for brunch, Taehyung laughs in Jimin’s face.

“Why the fuck would I be jealous?” he scoffs, staring up at Jimin from his hotel bed. They’re back to booking two rooms, but this time they each have their own bed. Luxurious, truly.

Yoongi probably never has to share a bed with anyone while on tour.

Taehyung lies horizontal across the bed with his head hanging off the side. Jimin looks funny upside down, putting makeup on in front of the floor-length mirror. Taehyung has to wait for him to finish applying mascara on his eyelashes before he can start talking again.

“You were being a dick the whole time we were hanging out.” Jimin points the mascara wand in Taehyung’s direction and sighs when he realizes Taehyung is back to scrolling on his phone.

“That’s just how I am.”

Jimin snorts. “Yeah, okay. You got me there!” Only Jimin can sarcastically do jazz hands in Taehyung’s direction and make him feel just a little regretful.

“You and Jungkook were up his ass for no reason,” Taehyung says as he rolls over onto his stomach. “Like what does he know about us, to be giving us all this advice and making all these assumptions? He doesn’t know jack shit.”

Meeting Taehyung’s eyes through the mirror, Jimin gives him a deadpan stare. “That is literally just what being nice is, Kim Taehyung. I know you wouldn’t understand.”

When Taehyung throws up a middle finger, Jimin sends one right back through the mirror. “Exhibit A!”

Taehyung knows Jimin is right, deep down inside. He knows he’s jealous, but not because of Jungkook. Of course not. He’s jealous of how easily Agust D has it, and how easily he swept in and charmed two of his bandmates. That’s it.

“When are you leaving?” Taehyung asks as he scours Twitter for Spine Breaker Fest reactions and content. Taehyung ruffles his bangs into his eyes. He needs to ask Jimin to trim them. “And why are you even in here? Why aren’t you getting ready in your room?”

The lighting in the hotel room isn’t great, tinting everything with a sickly yellow hue rather than the cold white Taehyung would see better in. So when a soft pink blush blooms across Jimin’s cheeks, Taehyung can’t tell if it’s really there or if the lighting is playing with his eyesight.

“Hyung is busy talking to Jungkook,” Jimin says. Taehyung waits for him to explain further, but Jimin’s lips form a pretty circle as he applies a pale pink gloss.

Taehyung furrows his eyebrows. “Talking about what?”

Jimin shrugs. “I’m not responsible for what Seokjin hyung does.”

With a quiet, “Okay”, Taehyung continues scrolling through Twitter, sufficiently deterred by Jimin’s use of Seokjin’s real name. No Jin or Jinnie hyung in sight. Whatever’s got the two of them pissed at each other is none of Taehyung’s business. He’s not even going out with them tonight. As much as Taehyung loves hanging out with Hoseok and Namjoon, he knows spending their last night in town drinking before they start the long journey back home isn’t a great idea.

A few weeks ago, Taehyung would have been pouring shots for everyone in the hotel room’s little kitchenette. Tonight, he’s waiting in his swim trunks for his bandmates to leave. Another night suffocating the itch in his chest with hot tub steam and muggy summer air will do him some good.

Or so Taehyung thinks until the door beeps open and Jungkook enters with glassy red eyes and pink cheeks. Taehyung sits up fast enough that he sees black spots in his vision. They speckle the room, blocking out Jimin’s look of concern in the mirror and Jungkook rubbing the back of his hand across his nose.

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, watching Jungkook slip past Jimin to grab his duffel bag on the other side of the room.

“Nothing,” Jungkook says with his chin ducked against his chest as he digs inside his bag. When Jungkook pulls out his own pair of swim trunks, Taehyung’s stomach flips.

“You’re not coming with us?” Jimin drops his black eyeshadow in his makeup bag. Despite the pink lip gloss, his outfit is as punk as ever, an all-black collection of straps, chains, and mesh. It’s admirable how done-up Jimin gets and how seriously he takes social gatherings when he knows they’re opportunities to market Black Swan.

Without Jungkook at Hoseok and Namjoon’s party, though, it won’t be the same. Seokjin doesn’t know how to use TikTok properly or schmooze with people the way Jungkook does. They’re learned skills, nothing Jungkook particularly enjoys, but he performs well.

And without Taehyung, there’s no sex appeal—no offense to Jimin or Seokjin. It’s just obvious that they aren’t in it for the pleasure they could get. Sometimes it pisses Taehyung off. He feels like the delinquent of the group in more ways than one. Why is he the odd one out? They’re in the business of drugs, sex, and rock ‘n roll, aren’t they? But the moment Taehyung acts on it, he’s suddenly the bad guy.

“You know I hate parties,” Jungkook says with a sigh, tossing his swim trunks on the bed. “We have a really long drive home the next few days, and we’re leaving early in the morning. You and Jin hyung are gonna be hungover and Taehyungie isn’t good at waking up, so I’ll have to drive.”

Jungkook isn’t wrong, even though Taehyung hates when the guys bring up his little “sleepy jazz incident” behind the wheel. Early starts during a road trip suck.

“That’s fair,” Jimin concedes, though he doesn’t seem happy with Jungkook’s decision. It doesn’t matter; no one would dare make the maknae do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Still, Jimin gives Taehyung a stern look once Jungkook disappears into the bathroom to change. Taehyung glares at him right back. There’s nothing behind the mean look but confusion.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Taehyung says, voice hushed in case Jungkook hears them above the hum of the air conditioning.

“I’m not…” Jimin fidgets with the chain hanging from his belt loops. “I didn’t mean to imply you said anything.”

Taehyung wants to press Jimin, force him to let out whatever weird shit is going on with Jungkook the past few days. It has to be Yoongi’s fault; Taehyung is sure of it. Who else could’ve said something to make Jungkook upset?

But then Jungkook is back. Taehyung tries not to focus on Jungkook’s bare chest and the ridges of his abdomen, instead keeping his gaze on Jungkook’s pretty doe eyes still slightly puffy.

“Are you cool with me going to the hot tub with you?” Jungkook watches Taehyung like he’s waiting for rejection.

As if Taehyung could ever tell Jungkook no.

“Oh, yeah, that’s cool.”

Gathering up his makeup bag, Jimin leans against the dresser with the bag hugged against his chest and watches Taehyung and Jungkook. “I’m gonna talk to hyung, see if he’s ready,” he says while Jungkook shoves his balled up clothes in his duffel bag. “I’ll let you know once we leave.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says softly. “I hope you guys have fun.” He exchanges small smiles with Jimin with a gentleness Taehyung could only wish he possessed.

Taehyung leaves his phone on the bed, not interested in being burdened with it. This is his new ritual, apparently. It seems every other night he skips out on the parties, instead searching for solitude. He’s gotten lucky; so far, he’s visited the hotel hot tubs when there’s no one else around.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks.  

“Always am.”

Jungkook’s grin makes Taehyung’s stomach flip. “Shut the fuck up, hyung.”

Make me, is what Taehyung wants to say. He bites his tongue instead and wonders what has gotten into him.

The sign nailed to the gate surrounding the outdoor pool notifies Taehyung and Jungkook that the pool and hot tub hours have long since ended. It’s around ten o’clock at night, and the facilities are outside. Jungkook clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth when Taehyung taps his hotel keycard against the gate’s electronic lock.

Taehyung grins smugly when the gate opens with a beep and a flash of green light.

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Taehyung asks as he holds open the gate for Jungkook to pass through. “An employee will see us out here and make us leave.”

“They could kick us out of our room.”

Jungkook’s point is far-fetched in Taehyung’s opinion. He gives Jungkook a look, head tilted to one side, and his lips pursed. Either way, it doesn’t matter; Jungkook follows Taehyung past the large, in-ground pool to the hot tub on the far corner of the recreation area.

The hot tub is a lot fancier than Taehyung expected. It’s also in-ground, with decorative rocks and healthy foliage surrounding it to give it a secluded, tropical feel, like a hot spring. Taehyung takes the few steps that lead him into the hot tub while Jungkook turns it on. The bubbles rumble to life and the water’s temperature increases.

“Fuck, this feels so good,” Taehyung groans. He sinks until the water reaches past his collarbones.

Jungkook laughs and sits on the shelf lining the inner perimeter of the hot tub to serve as seats. The water only goes up to his chest, which is already flushing light pink from the heat. Taehyung keeps his eyes on Jungkook’s face.

“Tense?” Jungkook asks.

There are so many ways Taehyung could answer the one-word question. It bothers him because it shouldn’t be difficult. The answer is so obvious, so straightforward.

“Yeah,” Taehyung takes a deep breath and remembers that hot tubs always make his chest feel tight, “mostly my wrists and biceps. The vibrating impact of the drums really gets to me sometimes.”

“I can’t imagine performing like that so much,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head. “I feel bad. All I have to do is stand there.”

“You do more than just stand there,” Taehyung counters. “You get the crowd hyped, you fucking sing, Koo. Most people can’t sing like you. I know that takes a lot out of you.”

Taehyung doesn’t know why he’s getting so defensive over this. Maybe it’s because the steam of the hot tub and the thick summer air are making it hard for him to breathe. He moves to sit on the inner shelf like Jungkook, the water at his chest, and inhales until his lungs burn.

“Stop selling yourself short all the time,” he continues when Jungkook says nothing.

They stare at each other from across the hot tub. It isn’t big; Taehyung could reach Jungkook if he stuck his leg out and kicked him. He kind of wants to, for some reason. But the hot tub still gives them enough space to spread out. It’s good. They’re sitting close enough.

After a while, Jungkook snorts. He shakes his head slowly, eyes gliding from Taehyung’s face to stare off into the trees that line the perimeter of the property, hiding it away from the world around it. Taehyung thinks he’d like to be hidden, too.

“You have a really weird way of expressing affection. Do you know that, hyung?”

Taehyung sticks out his arms and flexes his wrists beneath the bubbling water. He forgot to take off his bracelets.

“Yeah. I know.”

Blood rushes in waves against Taehyung’s eardrums as Jungkook slips further into the water. He watches with silent, shallow breaths as Jungkook moves toward him, the water lapping at his chest.

Taehyung is just overheating from the hot tub.

“Want me to give you a massage?” Jungkook’s soft words get swept up by the roaring in Taehyung’s ears.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Taehyung rubs his hands together under the water and uses the moisture to slick his hair back.

Jungkook grins with the scrunched nose expression that makes Taehyung cave every time. It’s funny how Taehyung thinks he will do anything for Jungkook and the whole band, but the real things they want from him aren’t anything he wants to sacrifice his interests for. It makes sense in his head; he can’t be everything, but he can try. Just not right now.

The problem is, he thinks he doesn’t understand what Jungkook wants.

When Jungkook takes Taehyung’s hand in his own and begins massaging it, Taehyung lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. Jungkook kneads the meaty part of Taehyung’s palm, just below his thumb. His muscles are sore and fatigued, but the pressure feels good.

“It’s the grip of the drumsticks that get me,” Taehyung speaks above the rush of blood in his head, even as it drains lower. “I think I’m gonna use my cut of the check to get a real massage.”

“Am I not good enough for you?”

Taehyung’s eyes are still closed, but he can hear the teasing tone in Jungkook’s voice. The question makes him feel bad anyway. “Koo, don’t do that to me.”

“Do what?”

Taehyung squirms slightly when Jungkook tugs on his fingers, releasing the tension within his joints. There’s so much he wants to say, but he can’t. His chest is still tight, and he still can’t look at Jungkook, even though when his eyes are closed, all he sees is Jungkook’s beautiful face.

Letting out a soft sigh, Jungkook shifts closer to Taehyung. His touch is soft, though powerful. Taehyung considers how true that is of Jungkook as a person.

“Talk to me, Tae,” he sounds patient, but it’s the kind of patience that’s barely keeping exasperation at bay, despite being rooted in it.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Taehyung knows, but he needs Jungkook to start it. He wants to be the band’s protector, but the truth is that he isn’t brave. Jungkook was right; Taehyung runs.

Jungkook keeps Taehyung’s arm underwater as he moves on to massage his wrist. The warmth of the water and Jungkook’s soft, gentle hands feel so good. Taehyung still doesn’t open his eyes; he just basks in the unusual attention. He lets out a low groan when Jungkook’s hands eventually glide upward, thumbs digging into the tense muscles of his forearm. The closer he gets to Taehyung’s bicep, the more tingly Taehyung’s body feels. He tries to keep quiet, but Jungkook plays him like he knows exactly where to press and rub to make Taehyung feel like jelly under his touch.

Why is it making Taehyung hard?

Maybe it’s because of how intimate the sensations are, being rubbed down while smooth and wet, with the warmth of the hot tub’s bubbly water lapping at his body with each of Jungkook’s movements. Perhaps it’s because Jungkook’s leg presses against Taehyung’s. Or it’s because how Jungkook holds Taehyung’s arm makes his hand rest on the top of his bare thigh.

Maybe it’s none of those things.

“Please look at me,” Jungkook asks in a tone that makes Taehyung’s stomach drop.

Jungkook’s cheeks and chest are flushed light pink, matching his pretty lips, the bottom one pulled in by his teeth. His bangs are messy from the humidity the hot tub creates. They stick to his forehead in waves that complement the wolf cut he still hasn’t asked Jimin to get rid of. Taehyung shivers despite the warm water jets.

“Yeah?” Taehyung forces himself to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.” The look on Jungkook’s face makes Taehyung’s chest crack.

Taehyung’s heart jumps into his throat. He licks his lips, gaze dropping to Jungkook’s. God, he wants to say it. He wants to, so badly, to dig inside the rot that’s in his chest and grab hold of the brave part of himself buried away. It must be there.

“Fuck.” Taehyung smooths his hair back with the hand Jungkook isn’t holding. He shakes his head and lets out a dark laugh, something tainted with disbelief.

“Tae?”

“What are we doing?” Taehyung’s voice is a hoarse whisper.

Jungkook’s tongue finds his lip piercing, then the inside of his cheek. All pink-cheeked and glassy-eyed, he’s so endearing, so warm, so hot. Taehyung feels like he can’t breathe.

“Releasing pent-up tension?” Jungkook says with a rare smirk that makes Taehyung’s stomach flip.

Of course Jungkook would bring up that excuse again. Taehyung chuckles, his head tilting towards the sky as he chases a sudden breeze. When he faces Jungkook again, he watches him with a mixture of amusement and affection.

“You got jokes, huh?”

“I thought you’d probably need a laugh. You’ve been so fucking pouty ever since we hung out with Yoongi.”

“Shut up.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, but Jungkook’s hand tightens around his bicep to keep him from shoving him away. “I haven’t been pouting. Jimin put that idea in your head, didn’t he?”

“Mhm.” Jungkook grins and bites his bottom lip.

“Not very punk of him to lie on his best friend like that,” Taehyung says, hardly knowing what’s coming out of his mouth.

Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t know. I kinda thought it was cute, you being all… protective.”

When Jungkook tugs Taehyung’s arm, the pressure is slight, yet Taehyung follows like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.

“You know I don’t need it though, right?” Jungkook slides his hand up Taehyung’s bicep until he reaches his shoulder. His palm leaves goosebumps in its wake, making Taehyung’s skin tingle.

A sudden rush of warmth spreads from Taehyung’s groin upward, flooding his body as Jungkook grabs his shoulder to push him back against the wall of the hot tub. He inhales deeply and tries to blink away the sudden dizziness he feels.

“Need what?” he asks, and Jungkook giggles. It’s a sweet sound that doesn’t match the sensual slide of Jungkook’s arm around Taehyung shoulders. It takes all of Taehyung’s energy to focus on what Jungkook is saying and not only on his lips.

“Protection” — Jungkook’s tongue plays with his lip piercing — “because I can take care of myself.”

“Uh huh,” Taehyung nods through the throbbing of his cock and the fluttering in his chest. “Yeah, Koo.”

Jungkook tucks a strand of damp hair behind his ear. So coy, so deceiving. Taehyung can practically taste his words when Jungkook leans in and says, “You’re so hot when you get like this.”

Taehyung has no idea what “like this” means. It doesn’t matter.

Brave isn’t a word Taehyung would use to describe himself. But despite his nerves, he swallows his heart and leans in to capture Jungkook’s mouth, not waiting to be asked.

Any of Jungkook’s pleas are silenced with a bite of his bottom lip. Taehyung carefully avoids Jungkook’s piercing when he tugs on his lip with a low groan, sucking it into his mouth, and remembers he really fucking enjoys kissing Jungkook. He doesn’t care that Jungkook tastes like chlorine.

Jungkook follows the glide of Taehyung’s lips, and every one of his whimpers and sighs reverberates through Taehyung’s body. The heavy burden of fear blanketing Taehyung’s heart lifts as Jungkook climbs into his lap. Rather than drown, he feels anchored by the weight of Jungkook’s body. His hands find Jungkook’s waist to guide him as Jungkook straddles him. It must not be comfortable for Jungkook to have his knees pressed into the shelf around the hot tub’s inner walls so he can bracket Taehyung’s thighs, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“You’re already hard,” Jungkook murmurs against Taehyung’s swollen lips. The question sounds mocking, but Jungkook gives Taehyung a soft, adoring look when he leans back.

Is Jungkook actually asking him this question? Like as if he doesn’t already know exactly what kind of mess he turns Taehyung into?

“Yeah,” Taehyung’s voice comes out thick and gravelly. “I’ve been hard ever since you started giving me a massage.” His lips quirk faintly despite the heat surging through his body. “Is... is that a bad thing?”

Taehyung licks chlorine from his lips and keeps them parted as Jungkook wiggles his ass right on top of his cock. His breathing comes out ragged and loud enough to be heard over the hot tub’s bubbling jets.

Water splashes between them as Jungkook rolls his hips to grind against Taehyung. Their bodies slide with ease, slippery, wet, and hot. When Taehyung lets out a low moan, Jungkook smiles. “No, it’s not a bad thing.”

Having Jungkook’s weight in his lap feels good. More than good—it feels grounding. He chases the challenge of coaxing out Jungkook’s moans, just to feel the way Jungkook’s body tenses and trembles in response. Yet Jungkook beats him at his own game.

Jungkook digs his fingers in Taehyung’s hair, tugging on the wet strands and forcing Taehyung’s head whichever way he wants. Taehyung gasps as Jungkook’s teeth playfully drag along his bottom lip, catching it just long enough to suck before he dives back in even messier.

But then Taehyung breaks away, tipping his head back and sucking in the summer air. The reprieve of sparkling stars and a moment to breathe is short-lived. Jungkook’s mouth latches onto his throat with enough force that Taehyung knows the skin will bloom with a deep bruise. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling and lapping up water and sweat, making Taehyung’s skin pebble with pleasure.

“Tae.” The breathlessness of Jungkook's voice goes straight to Taehyung’s cock, twitching and straining painfully against his swim trunks, trapped under Jungkook’s weight.

“Koo,” Taehyung groans, “you said we gotta talk.”

“Oh, now you want to?” Jungkook murmurs against the curve of Taehyung’s ear. His breath is hot, teasing. “About what?” He flicks Taehyung’s earlobe with the tip of his tongue, drawing a sharp gasp from Taehyung. “About how badly I wish I could have you?”

Taehyung’s breath hitches. “Have me?” he asks through a shaky sigh, barely holding himself together as Jungkook’s lips close around his earlobe, nibbling it gently.

Fuck, Jungkook’s mouth.

“Yeah, have you” — Jungkook grinds down harder — “inside me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Taehyung hisses, his hips jerking upward.

Desire burns Taehyung so severely, searing him from the inside while the hot tub and Jungkook’s body heat boil him on the outside. He’s panting so hard he feels like he might pass out, not to mention how terribly his heart pounds in his chest. He keeps reminding himself, this is Jungkook. And, yeah, it is. That’s why Taehyung is so fucking hard.

“I can make you feel good,” Jungkook promises, just like he had when he swallowed Taehyung all the way to the base.

Jungkook isn’t one to break promises. Taehyung isn’t one to tell him no.

It’s desperate how they grind against each other, Jungkook bucking against Taehyung with enough force that their swim trunks ride up their thighs. The jets have long since shut off, bubbles dying down; Jungkook and Taehyung make their own waves with the slap of skin splashing water around their bodies.

Each roll of Jungkook’s hips drags his ass along the length of Taehyung’s cock. Taehyung is fully hard now, clearly outlined by the thin, clingy material of his swim trunks. He can feel it slide between Jungkook’s ass cheeks. It’s maddening, pure torture, especially when Jungkook grinds down harder on the head of his cock, paying special attention to the sensitive spot.

“Touch me, Tae,” Jungkook moans into his ear.

It’s not a plea this time—it’s a command, one Taehyung couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to. His hands slide down from Jungkook’s waist until they cup the curve of his ass. He squeezes a few times, admiring how firm the muscles are, how perfectly Jungkook fits in his palms like he was meant to.

Jungkook lets out a rough groan, his head falling forward onto Taehyung’s shoulder as Taehyung guides his movements, drawing them out. Each rut is deliberate now—slow, steady, dragging Jungkook’s ass from the tip of Taehyung’s cock to the base in lazy, torturous thrusts. Jungkook curls his arms around Taehyung’s neck and pulls their bodies flush together as he captures Taehyung’s mouth once again, moaning into him when one of Taehyung’s hands slides down the back of his swim trunks.

Taehyung keeps a hand firmly on Jungkook’s ass, pulling one cheek back so he can wiggle his other hand further down his shorts. “Tell me what you like,” Taehyung murmurs against Jungkook’s lips. His fingers only tremble slightly when he ghosts them over Jungkook’s hole. He's making a huge assumption about what exactly it is that Jungkook does like, but Jungkook's reaction tells him that maybe sometimes trusting his gut isn't the worst fucking thing in the world to do.

“That’s, wow—” Jungkook ducks his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. His breath comes out in ragged bursts. “It feels so weird being on the receiving end of you talking like that.”

“Yeah? That mean you’re into it?” Taehyung smirks despite the frantic pounding of his heart. They’re crossing a line that there’s no coming back from, and Taehyung doesn’t care—not anymore.

Jungkook angles his hips to push back against Taehyung’s fingers. “Don’t tease me,” Jungkook scolds rather than begs. “Keep going.”

Maybe it’s surprising to some, but Taehyung has never tried anal before. He never saw the point; pussy is right there, and none of the girls he has been with had ever asked for it. So he doesn’t know shit about how wet Jungkook needs to be or if the warm water is enough to make it pleasurable for Jungkook when he pushes a finger inside.

“Fuck,” Taehyung exhales sharply, pulling his finger out to ease it back in again. “It’s so—”

“Warm, tight.”

Taehyung nods because he’s afraid of what sound might come out if he attempts to speak. His body shudders as Jungkook instructs him to add a second finger. He closes his eyes and imagines how good that initial tightness would feel around his cock, the pop of his tip through the ring of muscles. And then to be enveloped in the soft warmth that comes next. It’s different from what Taehyung has experienced before, but he thinks he’ll like it, especially because Jungkook is already moaning in his ear and he’s only using his fingers.

It’s just so fucking crazy, ending up here with Jungkook in his arms, his moist, warm breath mixing with the sweat beading down Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung hates sweating, but he can’t imagine leaving the hot tub, wants to spend eternity letting the pads of his fingers prune and his lungs struggle to breathe. It’s like the night on the dancefloor all over again, Taehyung hiding behind the shield of Jungkook’s body, chasing his heat to melt the insecurities that have formed a hard shell around him.

Not that Taehyung is smart enough to understand this about himself. Right now, he’s too focused on hesitantly crooking his fingers to feel Jungkook’s soft walls. Jungkook is nowhere near being delicate, but he feels like he is, at least here, in the part of himself Taehyung has never gotten to know. The longer Taehyung thinks about it, the more his fingers tremble.

“Are you okay, Tae?” Jungkook asks, leaning back to look at Taehyung. Jungkook sitting up forces Taehyung’s fingers out of him.

Shit, is Taehyung okay? Yeah, he’s totally fine. It’s not like he’s experiencing an entirely unknown part of his sexuality right now. It’s not like he’s doing exactly what he was afraid of doing, what his parents would despise him for, what he thinks he might have needed to do his whole life—or, at least for as long as he has known Jungkook. If this was anyone else, Taehyung isn’t sure he’d be okay with what’s happening. And honestly, he isn’t interested in finding out.

For some reason, it feels like it was always Jungkook. He deserves good things, doesn’t he? The real question is whether Taehyung is a good thing.

“I’m, uh—”

The beep of the pool gate blocks Taehyung’s words from tumbling out of him. They get locked in his throat, closed off while the gate clicks open and two voices carry over the still air. Taehyung isn’t brave enough to turn around. Instead, he watches Jungkook’s face as the two voices get closer.

There’s this little mole right under Jungkook’s bottom lip, in the middle of his chin. People rarely notice it. But when they do, it’s something to gush over, a cute little secret for the most observant people to unearth. Not like Taehyung, whose little freckles and imperfections are clear as day. Even the small scar along Jungkook’s cheek has a certain charm to it. It’s a reminder that there are things about Jungkook that Taehyung doesn’t know. What nervous tick did Jungkook have before he got his lip piercing? Did he run his tongue along the inside of his cheek? Still trace the curve of his bottom lip? Whatever it was, Taehyung is sure it would have made his stomach drop just the same.

“I think they’re coming over here,” Jungkook whispers, eyes still tracking the people walking through the recreation area.

If Jungkook was one of Taehyung’s groupies, he probably would have joked about putting on a show for whoever the guests are.

But Jungkook is Jungkook, and Taehyung is too afraid of making this real.

Taehyung drops his arms to his sides and squirms underneath Jungkook. “Let’s go back to our room,” he says. His words could sound like a proposition, but he says them in a breathy plea that makes Jungkook frown.

Even though Jungkook immediately gets up, they’re too late. The other hotel guests reach the hot tub right as Taehyung steps out of the water.

The old couple’s eyes ping-pong between Taehyung and Jungkook’s heated skin, reddened lips, and the blatant erections bulging their swim trunks.

“We’re leaving.” Jungkook snatches their towels from the small table beside the hot tub, tossing one to Taehyung before wrapping the other around his waist. Taehyung nearly misses the catch and the bottom half of his towel dips into the water.

“Fuck me,” Taehyung curses, not caring that the woman looks absolutely scandalized and his colorful language is probably making the situation worse.

It doesn’t matter; Jungkook is already booking it out of there, walking funny because he’s trying to hide his crotch. The poor kid has it way worse than Taehyung, who is wearing compression shorts under his swim trunks. The struggle of having a big dick, Taehyung figures. Swimwear is too revealing, the thin material always clinging around the crotch. Compression shorts make his dick print less obvious, but they also make it more painful when he gets hard in them.

At least Taehyung can walk normally. For as confident as Jungkook was back in the hot tub, he curls inward once they cross the threshold into the hotel. He waddles down the hall toward the elevators, his wet flip-flops squeaking against the tile floor.

Taehyung follows close behind him, nearly slipping in the puddle Jungkook creates while he waits for the elevator.

“You don’t gotta press the button so many times,” Taehyung teases.

Jungkook jams his index finger into the UP button and narrows his eyes at Taehyung. “You’re the one who wanted to get back to our room so bad.”

It’s definitely a dig, though Taehyung doesn’t understand why. He knows neither of them want some old people staring at them while Taehyung fingers Jungkook in the fucking hot tub. Holy shit.

“Koo,” Taehyung says with an exasperated sigh, “everyone can see.” You, Taehyung’s brain adds internally, and he doesn’t have time to wonder why he’s suddenly more worried about people ogling Jungkook in such a vulnerable position than himself.

Before understanding can click in his head, the elevator dings open and the last two people Taehyung wants to see step out.

“Oh, Jungkookie! Tae! We were calling you, but you both left your phones in the room.” Jimin does a little dance in the threshold, a side-to-side step that prevents the elevator doors from closing on them. Based on the light pink flush of his cheeks, Taehyung knows Jimin decided to pregame with Seokjin before leaving for the party.

Seokjin prefers to nurse a drink throughout the night, so his sober eyes stare at Taehyung with frightening clarity.

“Not interested in the hot tub anymore?” Seokjin asks.

Taehyung shrugs while Jungkook shakes his head, his frizzy bangs swaying across his forehead.

“Too hot.”

“And crowded.”

Jimin babbles about how pointless pool rules are when guests eagerly break them. No one is listening to him, but he doesn’t know that.

“Well,” Seokjin says, ushering Jimin out of the way and holding out his arm to stop the elevator doors, “answer your phones next time we call you.” 

They don’t answer their phones.

Fic Masterlist

A/N: taehyung, hiding his face: i think i like boys.

Want to be added to the "Keep Singing This Lie" taglist? Please let me know by reblogging this post with a comment and/or sending me an ask. (I need a response that I can easily tag to find later, otherwise I'll forget.)

[gimmethatagustd]

Want to be added to the “Keep Singing This Lie” taglist? Please reblog this post and/or send me an ask. Thank you so much!

@m00nchildjoon (the way i blanked so hard trying to remember your user cuz i kept using "O"s instead of zeros) @poptartsandpopstars

[gimmethatagustd]

i'm forever shy about kstl and you lol

[gimmethatagustd]

the reblogs and comments on my last jikook fic are making me sooooooo warm and fuzzy inside y’all have no idea 🥹🥹🥹 i could float into the sky

[namgination]

hooligan (2026)

[theavengers]

SPIDER-MAN: BRAND NEW DAY 2026, dir. Destin Daniel Cretton