Work Text:
Jungkook is sprawled on his messy bed with a hand around his half-hard dick when he vaguely recalls the girl in his lap from the party a few nights ago. His third bottle of beer has him one part buzzed and two parts super horny.
He closes his eyes to conjure the fuzzy image of a girl, blue streaks in her hair and a spiked collar around her neck. Thick, plush thighs, leather skirt so short and whorish that his instincts gravitated instantly to her. There was metal in her mouth too, the first of the kind Jungkook has yet to fuck. She left after an enthusiastic makeout session, because Jungkook remembers a new number in his phone with the contact name ‘text me ;)’ that he’s yet to ask the real name of.
Well, beggars can’t be choosers. Not that Jungkook is a beggar because it’s others who beg for him to fuck them. If anything, he’s doing the girl a service by texting her.
Nibbling on his lip piercing in anticipation, he types out a message with his free hand while he loosely jerks his dick with the other, easing himself into the mood.
jk [22:19]
hey
u up?
text me ;) [22:22]
who’s this?
jk [22:22]
jungkook
from the party
ring any bells lol
text me ;) [22:24]
not really
i think you have the wrong number
Jungkook scoffs. This chick can’t be serious.
jk [22:25]
cmon now don’t play dumb
we had a fun time didn’t we ;)
text me ;) [22:25]
and by that you mean?
Oh okay, Jungkook is getting the gist now. It’s all a part of the foreplay, isn’t it? The anticipation coils tight around his guts and stiffens his cock fully. Alright, two can play this game.
jk [22:25]
u sure know how to rile a guy up huh
instead of spelling it out how about i show u bbygirl
He flicks across the screen to the camera app and shimmies down his shorts so that he’s bare skinned from the thighs up, showing off his toned, hairless quads. He flexes them for good measure, angling his cock upwards to and snaps a picture, wincing when he’s caught off guard by the flash. The harsh light makes his cock look even redder but emphasises the vein that gives his cock that hard, masculine edge that should distract her from the scattered clothes on his bed. Nice. Girls like that. He presses the send button and idly waits for the message bubble to load.
text me ;) [22:27]
oh
jk [22:27]
lol u like it?
hard as fk for u
A triumphant burst of energy buzzes through him as he examines his dick pic again. He has to admit that’s one of the better ones he’s taken; usually it’s either a rushed blur, in the yellowish, terrible bathroom lighting of their dorm or a combination of both. Those do the job but at least now the flash gives it that authentic, low-lit atmospheric vibe of him ready to get down to business. Surely that’s enough for him to get something in return.
text me ;) [22:28]
it sure is hard as fuck to look at
Jungkook’s face contorts into a ridiculed expression as a red-hot wave of embarrassment shoots up his spine and washes a crimson blush over the tips of his ears. His heart suddenly speeds up in his chest, a knee-jerk reaction to the emotional whiplash. He furiously types:
jk [22:28]
??? fuck u lmao
text me ;) [22:28]
you can try
don’t think you can though
not with that pathetic little cock
The gall. His cock is not pathetic. He’s fucked enough women to not let a random chick gaslight him into thinking his dick isn’t worth the chase. Hoseok-hyung even said he was a grower, not a shower (“I can tell you’re thick, Jungkookie - girls are into that,”), in the high school locker room they measured their dicks in, a hand firmly planted on his shoulder with a warm, determined look on his face as Jungkook resisted the urge to punch the locker in a pissy fit. This bitch doesn’t know what she’s talking about.
jk [22:29]
it’s not little wtf
not pathetiv
pathetic
it’s THICK
ur a bitch
stupid ass hoe
Jungkook fumbles with trying to angrily type with one hand and before he can shoot out another insult he gets a reply in no time.
text me ;) [22:29]
says the one parading his chub around like a whore
is that what your buddies tell you?
even if you’re thick your dick is as good as useless anyway since you don’t know how to use it
little slut can’t even keep it in his pants
He lets out a shaky gasp, a low, rumbling heat rising at the pit of his stomach. Shifting to an upright sitting position, he frowns at his twitching cock, tightening his hold at the base in a shameful grip. Slut. Is that what he is?
Shit, what the fuck. He’s getting turnt on. His fingers hover over his phone keyboard, frozen in a lack of clever comebacks. He pokes slowly, restless.
jk [22:30]
shut uupb itch
text me ;) [22:30]
aw did that hit a sore spot? i’m just calling you out for what you are
but i bet you get off on that too
must be making you all wet
As if she’s psychic, a droplet of pre-cum leaks out of his tip. Jungkook squeezes his dick harder in a feeble attempt to will the unwanted thirst away but it’s no use, his body won’t listen to him. Fuck this, he’s blaming it on the alcohol. Heat crawling up his neck, he exits the messaging app and pulls up his favourite porn video in his private tabs, frantically tapping the play button on the browser as he readjusts his back onto the mess of hollowed out pillows.
The couple are already going at it when the video starts, high-pitched moans and raspy grunts pouring out of the dotted speakers of his phone. Jungkook pumps his cock to the sporadic rhythm of thrusts on screen, tongue poked against his cheek in concentration, imagining himself driving his entire shaft into a warm, dripping pussy like the one in his player window. Usually he would’ve skipped to the near-end of the video for the instant relief, but even after the full eight minute video concludes he’s still chasing the high of his climax, knuckles blooming white from frustration.
He tries another video, then another, and one more. Nothing. His arm is starting to cramp and he thinks his dick might fall off if he continues. His phone buzzes with a message notification and he begrudgingly opens it.
text me ;) [22:36]
seeing you’re too busy wanking to reply anymore i’ll take the chance to say stop being gross and get a grip
you stoop so low for a nude it’s hard to watch
have some self respect
unless you have a humiliation kink or something idk
then good for you i guess
jk [22:47]
no
i dont
wait
dont go yet
text me ;) [22:48]
🤨
you can’t be serious
are you that desperate for pussy that you’d beg anyone to give you some
jk [22:48]
no i cant
cum
text me ;) [22:48]
how is that my problem??
Alright, maybe Jungkook is desperate. It’s not his fault that his dick isn’t working normally today.
jk [22:48]
pls
ill do anything
just make me cum
text me ;) [22:49]
anything?
jk [22:49]
ye
well within reason
text me ;) [22:49]
boring
but good enough
hm let me see
say ‘i’m jungkook and i can’t cum without someone telling me to because i’m a useless whore’
then i’ll consider it
Jungkook copies and pastes the text without a fuck to give anymore, the meaning of it flying over his head. Anything to get his rocks off at this point.
jk [22:50]
i’m jungkook and i can’t cum without someone telling me to because i’m a useless whore’
text me ;) [22:50]
no you dickhead
send a voice message
jk [22:50]
wtf r u
fucking w me
text me ;) [22:50]
it’s your choice, i have no problem leaving this convo right now
Jungkook contemplates for a few seconds before giving in. What’s a few words if it means someone can finally put him out of his perpetual misery? Yet his heart rate accelerates as soon as he presses on the voice recording button, throat parched like sand in an instant.
He takes a deep inhale to steady himself. They’re just words, words that don’t mean shit and don’t apply to him at all. He can and will say it. Before he knows it he’s uttered it in one shaky breath and it’s on its way to the girl. His awkward, laboured breathing takes up most of the audio and it ends up being ten seconds long.
His cock twitches in betrayal again and his face is hot and numb when the replies chime in.
text me ;) [22:54]
wow you really are desperate
so desperate it’s kinda cute actually
alright i’ll hold up my end of the deal
get naked jungkookie
jk [22:55]
wdym i already am
text me ;) [22:55]
fully
take everything off
He yanks off the briefs and shorts that were pooled around his ankles and wrestles with his baggy shirt with shaky fingers, flinging it off onto the floor.
jk [22:56]
ok im off
its*
text me ;) [22:56]
you got a full body mirror?
jk [22:56]
yea
y
text me ;) [22:57]
jerk off in front of it and don’t look away
gotta see for yourself how much of a slut you really are
Jungkook feels a bit delirious as he pads over to the mirror behind his bedroom door, his limbs seeming moving on its own purely for the reason that he’s so horny he’ll do anything without questioning it anymore. In the dim lights of his bedside lamp, his nipple piercings catch on a faint sparkle, a delicate sheen of sweat glowing over his chest. He spits into his fist and closes it around his cock. Everything is so tangible that his senses intensifies by tenfold as he peers at the identical figure in the mirror.
The touch is almost raw but there’s little care in him left. He texts back hastily.
jk [22:59]
im in front of the mirror
watchibg
text me ;) [22:59]
describe it
tell me how it feels
jk [23:00]
dick hurtss
good
whole body burns
itss so wet
im leajing rverywhere
text me ;) [23:01]
how are you gonna get wet like a bitch too?
what, you gonna piss yourself next??
or you’re gonna squirt like you have a pussy
pick a struggle damn
jk [23:02]
fuxk
fuckk u
i cant stand up anymorr
text me ;) [23:02]
on your knees then
it’s all you’re good for anyway
He drops to his knees, hissing at the blunt pain when they make contact with the wooden floor. He almost face plants into the glass when he slips on a stray sock, rescued by his quick reflexes.
text me ;) [23:02]
get close to the mirror if you’re not already
hump it and don’t use your hands
jk [23:03]
shiit
ur killibg me
text me ;) [23:03]
less texting more moving
thought you wanted to cum
jk [23:04]
i do i need to cum sso bad
text me ;) [23:04]
then get on with it
i know you’re not gonna last long
not like this
She’s right, even without his hands the frosty surface of the mirror feels like heaven on his glistening cock, smearing gross marks onto the glass like an abstract artwork. He plants his toes onto the wooden floor for support, shifting his weight onto his thighs and cants forward to rub against his own reflection in little humps. The sight of his actual cock kissing the mirrored one is so shockingly obscene that he cums after a few seconds, painting his reflection in translucent ropes of white. It keeps spurting, more sticky substance catching onto his stomach and thighs, until the strength in his legs bleeds out along with it and he slumps down in exhaustion, shoulders heaving intensely.
He notifies the girl of his successful nut.
jk [23:06]
fuck i came
so hard
like i was GONE
text me ;) [23:06]
and you didn’t even tell me before it happened
isn’t that some way to treat your saviour
whatever
take a picture of yourself
Jungkook never passes on the opportunity to send a nude. In a hazy afterglow, he snaps his second nude of the night (without the flash), not forgetting to flex his abs. His bulged legs are folded on either side of him with the lower half of his reflection caught in the mirror, cladded in nothing but silver bracelets and his flashy tattoo sleeve, drenched in semen. Messy.
Satisfied, he presses the send button. He doesn’t check his phone for the rest of the night until he’s in bed again, fresh out of the shower and droopy-eyed.
text me ;) [23:09]
hm
whore behaviour
text me ;) [23:09]
meet me at the stone statue tomorrow
6:20
Jungkook wraps himself under the covers and tries to ignore the part of him that panics about whatever that means. He yawns. That’s for tomorrow-him to figure it out.
…
When Jungkook walks into class the next day, he’s slightly dazed, wallowing in a concoction of shame and uneasiness that sticks to his skin stubbornly. It crawls down his neck like a mass of tiny spiders, lurching into nervous anticipation of what could be the continuation of last night in his stomach. He’s tomorrow-him now and he doesn’t really know how to figure it out.
He sits down next to Taehyung whose greeting he ignores and crosses his legs with a huff. Taehyung is probably looking at him confused and offended but he doesn’t pay him any mind, instead shifting restlessly on his seat as last night’s memories flood back in increments of degrading text messages that get worse the longer he thinks about it. It starts stirring a dangerous reaction in his crotch until his sight lands on a certain guy sitting a few rows in front of him, turning his self-pitying frown into full on scowl.
Kim Namjoon, the student research assistant who is sitting in the desk adjacent to the lecturer’s podium, looks like a model teacher’s pet with his pair of half rimmed glasses as he clicks away pretentiously on his laptop. Jungkook fully knows his annoyance is completely unfounded, but when did he ever need a reason to hate another dude? The desperation to be an overachiever basically drips off this guy, as if he isn’t already tripping over his own feet trying so hard to make a good impression on the class and helping everyone with their work. The worst thing is he’s actually well-liked, endlessly gushed about like he’s a hot, dimpled prized trophy. Men simply cannot be that perfect.
But the thing is, Namjoon doesn’t care about Jungkook. In fact, Jungkook thinks Namjoon has some sort of hate boner against him for whatever reason Jungkook can’t decipher and he’s simply returning the sentiment in some roundabout courtesy by hating him back. It’s the way Namjoon barely cracks him a smile the same way he does to Taehyung when he’s dragged along to watch him bat his eyelashes and giggle at everything Namjoon says, not even spared an ounce of attention to the obvious distaste on Jungkook’s face. Jungkook knows he’s not entitled to his attention or whatever but like, he could at least, you know, acknowledge him or something. Acknowledge him how? Fuck if he knows.
He bores searing holes into Namjoon’s forehead long enough that Namjoon tips his head up and meets Jungkook right in the eyes, as if he sensed Jungkook’s telepathic hatred like a freak. Jungkook’s heart jumps a little, but he continues to hold his stare stubbornly when Namjoon only arches an eyebrow in cold apathy, unwilling to back down from his one-sided challenge. Seconds or minutes pass. It is until the lecturer slams her belongings on the podium that jolts both of them out of their little game and turns their focus back into class.
Jungkook tunes the rest of the session out and waits anxiously for the clock to turn 18:00.
…
“I’m gonna go, Tae.” After making up his mind and spacing out for an hour and a half, Jungkook mumbles to Taehyung, swinging his backpack over his shoulder.
“No arcade today?” Taehyung sounds slightly disappointed, clutching his laptop in a weirdly puppy-like way. Jungkook feels slightly bad but he knows Taehyung would do the same if he were in his position. He’d understand that he’s in a bit of a horny dilemma right now.
“I’ll make it up to you, promise.”
Taehyung sighs, but he ruffles Jungkook’s hair nonetheless and Jungkook swats his hand away in jest. It makes Taehyung giggle in that warm, fuzzy way that Jungkook likes.
“You better. Begone, brat!”
Jungkook hops over several stairsteps before turning around to stick his tongue out at Taehyung. Taehyung gives him a middle finger.
…
When Jungkook arrives at the meeting spot, the entrance of the building is mostly empty save for the few student passerbys leaving class. It’s a weird fucking building to meet near at if you ask Jungkook, one that’s away from the busy crowds of students and where the streetlights actually function normally, but he isn’t about to complain especially when he’s already leaving his dignity behind to come here. He leans on the stone pillar ornament in front of the entrance and tries not to fidget despite the nauseous feeling of his guts telling him otherwise, finally settling on scrolling on his phone mindlessly.
After five minutes, a shadow approaches him.
“Oh wow, so it really was you.”
“Sorry?” Jungkook’s head snaps up at the stranger’s distant voice and he immediately regrets it.
Kim Namjoon is standing in front of him, the same annoying hipster glasses on his nose bridge, staring down at Jungkook with half-lidded eyes and hands in his jean pockets. Something about the harsh shadows on his face make him even colder than usual, and it puts Jungkook’s fight or flight instincts on high alert.
“Nothing, I said hi.” Namjoon says with a lopsided grin that is empty, like he doesn’t mean what he says at all. Surface level, just like what Jungkook is used to.
Jungkook narrows his eyes at him.
“Did you follow me here?” He accuses flatly, not really knowing what to say. Even though Namjoon literally has no reason to.
The older gives him an incredulous look and actually has the audacity to laugh.
“You flatter yourself. If I needed something from you I could’ve just asked in class, there’s no reason for me to follow you all the way out here to the emptiest part of the campus.” He shifts his weight onto one side and stands easily, as if he doesn’t feel the need to keep his guard up around Jungkook. Jungkook doesn’t know whether he should take the chance to punch him in his stupid mug or feel relieved that the guy isn’t actually here to fight him.
“Then why are you here and why are you talking to me?” Jungkook spits, shoving his phone into his pocket. Then he feels the need to add, “We’re not friends.”
“We’re not, but you’re meeting someone here, right?” Namjoon says like he knows Jungkook’s schedule or something. It sends the same nauseous, uneasy feeling crawling down Jungkook’s neck again and he straightens his back, squaring his shoulders in defence. This is getting weird - he’s supposed to meet the girl he sexted last night and now Kim Namjoon is in front of him instead of the blue haired, big-tittied girl he met at that party last Friday. What is he, a stalker? Maybe it’s time for Jungkook to turn tail and run.
“How the fuck do you know?”
Namjoon pulls out his phone and gives it a few taps before reading out, “Meet me at the stone statue tomorrow. Six twenty.”
“Huh?” Jungkook blurts out dumbly.
Namjoon continues in nonchalance. “Check your phone,”
It’s a deafening silence as Jungkook processes the meaning of Namjoon’s words. What does his phone have anything to do with this? No, wait. Hold on. Why does he know about last night? Is this an elaborate prank by his worst enemy? Did Namjoon wake up today and decide to choose violence? Is this real?
Before Jungkook’s brain explodes in confusion, he manages to finesse the last bit of coordination in his limbs and frisks out his phone again just as a notification rings. He swipes to open it and a new message appears under his conversation from last night in a glaring, condescending blue.
text me ;) [18:24]
surprise
Jungkook can feel the colour drain from his face, eyes frantically darting from the phone screen to Namjoon’s unimpressed expression. “Y—,you, you’re—” He stutters pathetically.
“Congrats, you finally got it.”
“B-but I was texting that girl! You’re not a—a girl!”
“What a brilliant observation,” Namjoon sarcastically gasps. “You didn’t ask if I was her or not.”
“Then h-how, d’you, wha—”
“You texted the wrong number and I decided to indulge you. Didn’t know if it was the same Jeon Jungkook I knew but I guess I got my answer.” Namjoon explains plainly in the simplest terms and Jungkook doesn’t even have the energy to question it anymore, closing his hanging mouth shut. The strength holding up his arm drains out of him, falling to his side with a thump.
If Jungkook were functioning as normal then he would’ve sprinted the fuck out of here as quickly as possible and never turn back. But this isn’t normal and the weight of Namjoon’s stare has somehow cemented him to the concrete, and all he can do is wallow in the scorching heat of his embarrassment and clench his fists into an iron grip. He thinks he can hear a soft sneer as Namjoon watches him closely.
“You know what? You’re fascinating, Jungkook. I berated the shit out of you last night and you still showed up like a loser begging for more. Most people would’ve blocked my number and moved on from this already yet here you are, so bold and shameless.” Namjoon narrates slowly, cocking his head sideways to Jungkook’s eye level.
“I thought I had zero respect for senseless horndogs like you but I have to say I’m flattered. You must’ve liked it a lot.”
Mustering the last bit of venom in him, Jungkook manages a, “You’re messed up.”
Namjoon grins with a flash of teeth, and Jungkook thinks that’s the most genuine emotion he’s ever seen on him. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Jungkook has never felt this kind of defeat in his life, a kind that’s managed to suck all the fight out of him that he can’t even insult Namjoon back without reminding himself of his newly discovered kink. It’s a new low, honestly. Makes his eyes sting a bit.
“...Why,” He croaks.
“Hm?”
“Why would you fuck with people like this?”
“That’s rich coming from someone who enjoyed being fucked with.” Namjoon whistles, pushing his hair back. “But anyways. It’s fun; people like you need to learn your place.” People like him? Jungkook ignores the angry flush that starts spreading down his nape.
“Plus you’re cute - I might not like you but I do have eyes, y’know.” He looks down at Jungkook’s crotch, a beat, then meets Jungkook’s glare again, gesturing towards it with his chin. “Cute cock too.”
Jungkook’s head is starting to hurt. “God, if you don’t shut the fuck up.”
“You’re welcome.” It’s admirable how Namjoon reacts the bare minimum to Jungkook’s retorts. He’s so calm and collected that it’s almost unnerving.
“You know what else you can learn?” Namjoon inches closer, his broadness caging Jungkook in between the statue and his torso. At this angle, Jungkook has to slightly look upwards to meet Namjoon’s eyes, and he catches a whiff of a faint, woody perfume radiating off Namjoon’s skin which, as much as he hates to admit it, actually smells good. This is honestly more degrading than he thought. “How to squirt.”
“W-what?”
“You did a pretty good job of making it seem like you did last night with all that jizz on the mirror. But I can teach you a lot more than that,” Namjoon traces a finger down Jungkook’s left pectoral to his nipple and pinches, a soundless moan jerked out of Jungkook’s throat. It rises to attention pathetically through his thin baseball jersey, “Baby girl.”
Jungkook can feel his internal temperature rising as Namjoon’s gesture paints him in pink from head to toe, doe eyes widening in shock. What kind of a fucking wolf is Namjoon hiding under that deceivingly innocent sheep skin, and why is he getting turnt on in public? He stays frozen while Namjoon examines his expression in silence, before he pulls away and resumes the stoic look from earlier with intimidatingly little emotion. The way he looks at Jungkook as if he’s nothing is, much to Jungkook’s dismay, sending conflicting signals to his crotch.
“Text me when you’ve made up your mind. Or not - I don’t really care either way. Just don’t let me catch you sending shit like that ever again or I’m reporting you.” Namjoon states matter-of-fact, pupils a deep void of black. When he turns to walk away, Jungkook’s fingers twitch involuntarily.
As much as Jungkook is absolutely humiliated to the ends of the earth, he can’t help the streak of curiosity in him that sparked at Namjoon’s suggestion. Men can squirt? Yeah, Jungkook is interested, so what? Sue him.
“Wait.” He says before Namjoon walks too far from his immediate distance, before he actually starts to think with his rational brain and not with his morbid mating instincts. If there’s one thing Jungkook is persistent at despite all his failed attempts at excelling at everything else in his life, is he’s always down to fuck, and a six feet tall, nerdy dickwad with dimples isn’t going to stop him from getting his way.
Namjoon stares at him with a flat look on his face, but an arched eyebrow betrays his supposed indifference. Jungkook manages to not falter under the weight of Namjoon’s wordless question.
“I wanna know,” He swallows, struggling to keep his voice levelled. He can’t show too much enthusiasm or Namjoon is going to make fun of him, but he can’t sound like he’s scared either. He needs to sound determined. “how to do it.”
“Do what?” Namjoon feigns innocence and Jungkook chews on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from clicking his tongue in irritation. Of course Namjoon notices the minuscule movement and he smirk in silent provocation like the fucking bastard he is.
Jungkook presses on, “How—, how to squirt. Teach me.” If Namjoon sees how red his ears are then Jungkook’s glad that he isn’t saying anything about it.
In place of that non-existent comment, Namjoon taunts back. “Teach me…?”
“Fuck y—,” Jungkook composes himself with a deep breath, gritting his teeth. “Okay. Fine. Please. Teach me please, Namjoon-ssi.”
“Ooh, you’re getting there. So close.”
Fine. He’s stooped so low already he might as well stoop into hell. “Please teach me how to s-squirt.”
Namjoon’s eyes turn into crescents, cat-like. They are smiling along with him this time. “I knew you’d sound better begging.”
…
Jungkook thanks the heavens that Namjoon’s apartment is only a fifteen minute walk away and he didn’t have to suffer through the awkward silence of public transport commute. Granted the walk was also awkwardly silent with Jungkook trailing behind Namjoon and anxiously messing with his hair, tucking it behind his ears then repeating it again in set intervals, but at least he wasn’t stuck in a moving vehicle with nowhere to run if Namjoon decided to murder him or something.
When Namjoon opens the door to his place, Jungkook is greeted by the smell of fresh citrus, a stark contrast to the musty scent of his shared dorm. The interior is best described as cosy, with accents of wood everywhere and almost too clean to be humanly possible. It looks just like Namjoon personified, Jungkook thinks. Clean-cut, no margin for error.
There is a guy in tight leather pants with too many rings on his finger fixing his hair in front of the mirror who turns around at the sound of the pair entering the apartment. He smiles brightly.
“Welcome back, hyung!” He greets Namjoon, then must realise Jungkook is shifting self-consciously at the doorway after taking his shoes off because he walks towards Jungkook and openly checks him out from head to toe.
“New boytoy?” He calls out to Namjoon, who is dropping his tote bag onto the couch and shedding his coat off. Jungkook should feel offended at the accusation but instead he is distracted by the shimmery, dark eyeshadow on the guy’s eyelids and his pouty, glossy lips. It’s girly and sexy and…pretty. Jungkook didn’t know men could look like that. It’s like a whole new world out here.
Namjoon ignores him and disappears into a room, so the guy takes the chance to slip closer to Jungkook and gives him a consoling pat on the shoulder like he knows how bizarre of a day Jungkook has had.
“He’s such a heartless ass. I’m Jimin, by the way. Namjoonie-hyung’s roommate.” He introduces himself.
“Uh, Jungkook.”
“Jungkook, Jungkookie…oh, you can be Kookie! That’s such a cute name.” He's a complete one-eighty from Namjoon, the way his smile reaches his eyes. And it took less than a second for him to come up with a nickname. “Hyung barely brings anyone home so it’s nice to finally meet someone of his.”
Jungkook almost chokes on air. “Oh, we’re not, uh,”
“Oh yeah, don’t worry, I know what you mean. It’s just I feel like I’m always the one bringing people home so I’m glad I’m finally not that person for once, you know?”
“Um, yeah, sure.” Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say to that. Does that mean he’s the only person Namjoon’s ever brought home?
“Anyways, it was nice meeting you, Jungkookie! If you’ve had enough of Namjoon-hyung you can always join me instead. I know many people who’d like to have fun with someone as pretty as you,” Jimin soothes out the wrinkles on Jungkook’s shirt and lays his palms on Jungkook’s chest, leaning smoothly into his ear, “including me, of course.”
Pretty? Jungkook never thought that could be a word used to describe him. He feels a bit lightheaded until Namjoon is slamming the door closed, his voice rumbling.
“Hands off, Jimin.” Then Jimin’s hands are immediately gone.
“Oops, okay, bye hyung! See you around, Kookie, break a leg!” Like a whirlwind, Jimin leaves as quickly as he came, and Jungkook is left standing dumbly trying to process what the hell is going on. He can hear Namjoon’s distant sigh at the other end of the living room.
“I’m going to shower. There’s takeout in the fridge if you want; chopsticks are in the top drawer. Just don’t touch anything else.” Namjoon instructs as he takes off his black turtleneck, revealing a tight fitting undershirt beneath. His chest, shoulders, arms—everything, are like, big. Bigger than his own, probably. Is Jungkook staring? Whatever, he has nice biceps.
“You’d let a stranger eat your food?” Jungkook asks in disbelief, still admiring the deep-set lines on Namjoon’s arm. Namjoon doesn’t comment on his blatant ogling.
“You’re gonna need it.” Namjoons lets the unspoken, lingering promise fester in the air and retreats into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling up the silence after a few seconds. As much as Jungkook doesn’t want to take up on Namjoon’s offer (the thought of owing Namjoon something makes his skin crawl), his stomach decides it’s the perfect time to gurgle in the most wretched way possible, and frankly, he’s too broke to pass up on a opportunity for free food.
A few minutes later, he’s sitting on the kitchen island munching on cold fried chicken, swinging his legs idly as he stares at the Nespresso coffee machine logo in thought. It’s on his second piece of chicken that Jungkook realises that this whole thing is very out of character of him, that nothing about this feels real or tangible, like he’s watching someone else’s life through their eyes. He’s never even fucked a guy before, never really thought about it either yet here he is, eating leftovers from a dude who’s managed to destroy his self-esteem in one night and made him realise how much he actually enjoys it. Is this what people call a journey of self-discovery? Is it time for a sexuality crisis right now? Is he going to wake up tomorrow and find out he’s never going to enjoy pussy the same again?
Jungkook shakes his head. This is getting too deep. He’s here for sex and that’s it, there’s no need to get all philosophical about it. He and Namjoon are going to hate-fuck and they’ll both have a good time (hopefully) and go their separate ways. If anyone finds out, he’ll just tell them he’s in his experimental era! He doesn’t have to let this define him.
He doesn’t realise he’s finished all the chicken by the time Namjoon steps out of the bathroom in a long sleeved shirt and sweatpants, damp silver fringe covering his glasses (why can’t he stop thinking about the glasses??). There’s no academic, well-dressed, sharp-edged Namjoon - just pure domesticity that Jungkook can barely stand to look at because it feels like he’s intruding. The thought of that makes heat creep back into his ears.
Namjoon puts a small pile of clothes on the chair and looks disapprovingly at Jungkook’s ass on the counter, long enough that Jungkook slowly slides off like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t be. He shrugs, wiping his sauce-sticky fingers on his pants on autopilot. Namjoon grimaces at him.
“That’s disgusting, please wash your hands.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, but he listens anyway. Clean freak.
Namjoon leans against the counter, folding his arms together. “That’s for your shower by the way. You can leave in them but don’t bother bringing them back since you’re gross and don’t know how to practise basic hygiene.’
Jungkook frowns at the unnecessary comment, actually offended. “Why are you so mean? Does it kill you to not have a stick up your ass all the time?” Namjoon clenches his jaw at that, the lines of his face hollowing like he’s resisting the urge to chew Jungkook out down to his bones.
“My house, my rules. Also you should stop talking before I change my mind about fucking you and make you pay for the food you just ate from my fridge.”
“You're the one who offered!”
“And I can take the offer back anytime I want because you’re irritating me and won’t stop talking back like a four year old. Did no one ever teach you how to shut your mouth?”
“Make me, asshole.”
Namjoon’s eyes instantly narrow in a sharp gaze that makes Jungkook sort of regret what he just said, but there’s also something indiscernible that titillates Jungkook’s anticipation the way Namjoon’s pupils are clouded without any shine in them. They mirror each other’s stillness, breaths silent, then the next second Namjoon is pressing Jungkook into the counter, smashing their mouths together in one fluid move. Namjoon’s kisses are violating, feverish, like he’s trying to lick Jungkook’s mouth clean and Jungkook can barely take it, his hips buckling weakly.
“Hah—nnh,” He moans when Namjoon’s hand drapes across his throat, smoothing over the delicate skin, the lightest bit of strength ghosting his fingertips. The sound makes Namjoon chuckles into Jungkook’s mouth, and Jungkook burns with embarrassment, curling his fists into the hem of Namjoon’s shirt. They suck face until all Jungkook can think of is how dangerously close he is to developing an oral fixation to Namjoon’s mouth because fuck, is this what kissing is supposed to feel like? And this whole time he thought he was doing a good job of it.
Namjoon gives Jungkook’s lower lip a final suck before pulling away with a pop. Jungkook subconsciously chases after the heat but Namjoon steadies him with a firm hold on his neck, a hint of endearment at the corners of his moon-shaped eyes.
“Needy.”
Jungkook gulps on reflex, lips numb and feeling too out of it to bite back at the older. But the sight of Namjoon standing in front of him so unaffected suddenly jerks him back to reality, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and trying to get out of his peripherals as fast as possible. Right before he escapes into the bathroom clutching his spare clothes like a lifeline, he hears Namjoon call out, “Don’t jerk off in there!”
Jungkook curses his hard-on and Namjoon. “Fuck off!”
…
Jungkook spends a good fifteen minutes in the shower because of his indecisiveness in selecting which body wash to use (there’s a whole collection in there, shower creams, foams and whatnot). The more he thinks about it, the more he starts getting pissed. Why is it so nice here? The shower was steaming hot, water pressure perfectly massaging his back, and everything smelt so nice and warm. If Namjoon didn’t explicitly tell him not to, he probably would’ve jerked off in there.
But more than that, Jungkook is pissed to find out that his body frame doesn’t fill out the size of Namjoon’s clothes, leaving him with sweater paws and a slightly loose waistband.
“Is everything you own freak-sized?” He complains as he waddles into the living room, the hems of his borrowed sweatpants baggy around his ankles. Namjoon glances up from his phone on the couch, eyes turning into amused slits.
“It’s called oversized, dipshit - not everything you wear has to be fitted down to the hilt. You just can’t get over the fact that you’re dainty.” Putting his phone aside, he looms towards Jungkook, assuming that cocky stance from earlier again.
Jungkook exasperates. “I’m not dainty! I’m literally taller than all of my friends!”
“Then that means your friends are fun-sized.” Namjoon offers as if that’s a better alternative. Jungkook is reminded by Jimin having to rise to his tippy toes to whisper into his ear.
“Well, then that means so is your roommate.” He quips, for some reason thinking it’s a decent enough insult to throw back. Namjoon doesn’t even suppress his surprised laugh. “You’re not wrong about that.” Now that just makes Jungkook feel bad about Jimin.
“But enough about Jimin, we’re not here to chit chat about my roommate.” Namjoon’s voice shifts deeper and Jungkook’s spine turns rigid. They’re standing so close Jungkook thinks Namjoon is going to kiss him again, or maybe he just wants him to do so - he was thinking about it in the shower a few minutes ago already anyway.
Jungkook swallows a lump in his throat but another one forms in place of it. “Then what are we here to do?”
Namjoon licks the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know, Jungkook-ssi, how about you show me?”
The honourific that rolls off of Namjoon’s tongue catches Jungkook off-guard. It’s how Namjoon switches in between casual and formal speech when addressing Jungkook that it fucks with his head in some weird, psychoanalytic way, estranged and intimate all at once. Either way, his name sounds nice on Namjoon’s tongue.
Namjoon gazes at him patiently as he waits for Jungkook to make the next move. All of a sudden his heartbeat is skidding violently, palms turning clammy as he searches for any kind of visual signal from Namjoon and racks his brain to think of something clever to say. Unfortunately Namjoon is plain unreadable as always, so he does what any normal guy would do, closes his eyes and kisses Namjoon before he starts to overthink it.
It’s…stiff. Jungkook’s mouth doesn’t work properly because his nerves are teetering everywhere and all he manages to do is suck weakly at Namjoon’s lips, licks kittenish like he’s clueless about what he’s doing. It makes Namjoon snicker quietly. Jungkook pulls away immediately, pink blossoming over his cheeks.
“Is that the best you can do?” It’s all tease, but Namjoon’s smirk is effortlessly charming this time.
And Jungkook takes the bait because he’s a goddamn fool. “That doesn’t coun—hn,”
Namjoon drinks down the rest of his sentence wet and hungry, wasting no time to curl his tongue with Jungkook’s. The teasing nips at Jungkook’s lip and Namjoon’s hands flexing at the expanse of his waist is enough to turn Jungkook into a squirming mess, desperately trying to keep up with the older’s pace. He lets out a tiny, muffled yelp when Namjoon hauls him up by his ass and manoeuvres the both of them in the direction of his bedroom.
“Ah—ow,” The noise is jolted out of Jungkook when Namjoon pretty much throws him onto the bed, pinning him down by the sides. Jungkook gets an interval of three heartbeats to really look at Namjoon, and his throat goes dry at his expression.
Shit, Namjoon looks like he wants to eat him up. The whole course, with bones and all.
Before Jungkook can say anything, his shirt gets yanked upwards, exposing his pierced nipples to Namjoon. A maniacal glint flashes across his eyes.
“Fuck, I knew I felt something. That’s hot.” Namjoon mutters, pupils blown out. It goes straight to Jungkook’s dick and he whines uncontrollably, flushing peach-colour under the attention.
“Do girls touch you here?” Jungkook shakes his head, too embarrassed to make a sound.
Namjoon doesn’t relent. “Answer hyung, Jungkook. They play with your tits?”
“N-not really, they don’t really acknowledge it.” It’s a shame, really. Maybe it’s reverse psychology that only males are attracted to female pierced nipples and not the other way around. Jungkook likes to think they’re a nice surprise, and thankfully he was proven correct by Namjoon. It inflates his ego a few inches larger.
Namjoon licks his lips, gaze locked on the metal barbells. “They should. They’re pretty tits. Should show them off more often.”
Jungkook sucks in a deep breath. “Do—do you like them?”
“Yeah, it’s hot as fuck. Perfect for a little slut like you.”
“I’m not—,” He gets cut off by Namjoon pulling his shirt over his head, “little.”
“So you don’t deny the slut part?” Namjoon says, a teasing hilt to his voice as he undresses his top swiftly, all honey-coloured skin and taut muscles underneath. His torso, down to his waist, is so broad that even with all the training Jungkook does, his body shape still pales in comparison.
“That is also not tru—mhn,” Namjoon lays a flat swipe of his tongue over Jungkook’s nipple, cutting Jungkook off as he closes his lips around the stiff bud and sucks the flesh around it lewdly. Jungkook’s pecs aren’t big by any means but the way Namjoon plays with them has him lost in a phantom illusion, as if he’s a girl with a sizeable rack. He suppresses an embarrassed whine in his throat but he can’t help the needy arch of his spine, driving his chest into Namjoon’s mouth.
“These say otherwise.” He mumbles, peering at Jungkook closely. He continues to tease, playfully rolling the piercing with his tongue and twisting his other nub while he grinds down onto Jungkook’s crotch, humping their dicks together. His chest is pink and glistening from Namjoon’s spit when Namjoon pulls away, rising and falling in heavy pants.
He trails his tongue down Jungkook’s abdominals and hovers over his hard-on with a hungry look on his face. Tilting his head upwards, Namjoon’s glance meets his and signals wordlessly for his permission, so he lifts his hips obediently for Namjoon to undress him. His cock flutters in the hot breath of air Namjoon blows on him.
“See? Cute.” It should be insulting but Jungkook reads a flirtiness in it before anything else. He covers his eyes, a rosy blush scattering over his cheeks and ears. What the hell.
“Shut up.”
Namjoon chuckles and takes him in his mouth without a word. He wastes no time to go down on Jungkook, relaxing his throat open easily with practised expertise as his tongue swirls deliciously on the underside of Jungkook’s cock, tracing welty on a bulging vein. He takes it with ease when Jungkook jerkily fucks his hips into the cramped tunnel of his throat.
Jungkook snakes a tattooed hand into Namjoon’s bleached strands as he absentmindedly wonders what the older looks like with natural, dark hair. A little less douchey and ten times more model student-y, he guesses. Wouldn’t make him any less insufferable though.
The thought dissipates quickly on a particularly intense suckle on his cockhead from Namjoon, drawing a broken whimper out of Jungkook. His fingers tenses in Namjoon’s scalp, unintentionally pulling Namjoon off his cock with a lewd shine on his lips. They lock eyes as Namjoon flips Jungkook’s legs upwards and spreads them slightly apart, sucking kisses onto his balls down to his perineum. Jungkook, the most flustered he has ever been in his life, tries to wriggle away from Namjoon’s face, earning him a playful bite on the milky inside of his thigh.
Fortunately, Namjoon takes the hint and rises from Jungkook’s crotch, breaking into a smug grin when he sees Jungkook’s hands over his mouth, rightfully bewildered. “Enjoyed yourself?”
Jungkook shakily knees Namjoon on the side. “God, you’re an actual menace,”
“Hm, indeed I am,” He crawls near Jungkook’s face, pushing Jungkook’s legs further apart as he rolls his hips flush against Jungkook’s dainty cock, “especially down here.” He grabs Jungkook’s hand and steers it towards his crotch, using it to softly knead his boner. If Jungkook wasn’t in so much emotional turmoil right now he would’ve scoffed at Namjoon’s lame ass joke.
“Care to help me out?”
“O-okay,”
He gets manhandled to the edge of the bed, Namjoon standing tall in front of him and nudging his face into his clothed hard-on. Not that Jungkook has any frame of reference for this but judging by the size of Namjoon’s cock rubbing against his cheek, he’s fucking hung. He claws weakly at Namjoon’s thighs, the hint of fear and the inexperience of blowjob-giving knitting his brows, and Namjoon seems to notice his discomfort, softening his hold around the base of Jungkook’s skull.
“Jungkook, you want this?” His voice is uncharacteristically mellow, like he’s telling Jungkook a secret. Jungkook’s heart skips a beat.
Okay, Jungkook didn’t expect this. He thought he was going to get a dick in his mouth without his opinion considered anyway, and honestly it was probably better that way. Now Namjoon has put the question out there and Jungkook is forced to verbalise what he wants. He pouts in habit, hoping to distract Namjoon by massaging his cock through the fabric.
“Why does it matter anyway, I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?” Jungkook tries to emphasise his point by mouthing at Namjoon’s crotch but the older tilts his chin upwards with his other hand, stilling his antics.
“No, Jungkook, it’s important. I need to know I’m not doing anything you don’t want.” Namjoon presses on in that same, gentle voice. Is it weird that it makes him want to lean into Namjoon’s palm? That thought alone makes him avert his eyes bashfully, lips pressing into a thin line.
“Baby, look at hyung.”
“Don’t call me that—,”
Namjoon takes the chance to slip his thumb into Jungkook’s mouth, easing his jaw slack. “Do you or do you not want this?”
Trapped, Jungkook has no choice but to look up at Namjoon. The older strokes his cheek fondly, which melts a bit of the embarrassment choking up his throat. Still, it flushes up his neck to his cheeks and forms into dewy droplets on his forehead.
He’s never been on the receiving end of these questions before, but he can’t escape so he might as well surrender. He tries, “I wanna,”
“Wanna what?” Namjoon encourages, stroking under his chin as if Jungkook is a stray feline. Jungkook’s eyelashes flutter.
“Wan-, wanna try to s-suck hyung off,”
Namjoon rewards him by mushing his lips with his thumb, a metaphorical kiss. “Okay. It’s all yours.”
Jungkook nods without thinking, pawing off Namjoon’s pants slowly as he waits intently for the reveal. Now it hits him how excited he really is to see an actual, hung cock, with the way he holds his breath in tandem with Namjoon’s fingers sinking into his scalp, entangling within Jungkook’s hair. His grip is almost mind-numbingly controlling.
When Namjoon’s dick springs out of his briefs, it flings a light string of pre-cum onto Jungkook’s mouth, slapping wetly against his happy trail. Jungkook’s eyes go comically wide. It’s like an in real life hentai dick, grotesquely veiny in a brown-red flush, one of those dicks that you subconsciously swallow when you see it. He does exactly that.
“Cock made you speechless, huh?” Namjoon laughs, taunting. Jungkook barely notices it because the sight of his cock probably remapped the course of his brain and he simply blurts in awe, “Wow, you’re huge, Namjoon.”
The older rolls his eyes. “Almost forgot that you’re stupid. Now get on with it.”
Jungkook makes the most offended face he can muster. “That was a compliment! Geez, you’re such a pissy bastard—,”
Namjoon rubs a hand over his face. “Not this again,”
“—I know you don’t like me but you can at least pretend—,
“You’re actually insufferable—,”
“—when I’m here on my knees, doing you a favour by sucking your dic—mmpf,”
The rest of his speech is interrupted by Namjoon pushing his mouth onto the head of his cock and Jungkook accidentally kisses it, his lips half enveloping the tip, smeared with slick.
“You’re the one who said you wanted to try,” Namjoon shrugs indifferently when Jungkook shoots him an unimpressed glare. “Now say ‘ah’.”
That sends a tiny shiver down Jungkook’s spine. Namjoon is slowly unravelling him into pieces. He doesn’t entertain Namjoon’s command but he obediently lets his jaw go slack to accomodate for Namjoon’s thickness, laying his tongue flat on the underside of his shaft. About one third of Namjoon’s cock manages to fit before Jungkook is already yielding, trying desperately not to drool everywhere.
Namjoon tuts. “What good can you do when even your mouth is small?” His light tug on Jungkook’s hair has him whimpering faintly, the sting sparkling down his neck like an electrical current.
“You can’t kiss, can’t take cock in your mouth, can’t even cockwarm your hyung properly with that untrained gag reflex. Just a dumb, useless whore.”
A drop of pre-cum trickles down Jungkook’s cock as he shuffles on his knees, unable to sit still from the shame that sets his body aflame. In an attempt to compensate for his lack of skill, he tentatively wraps a hand around the base of Namjoon’s cock and pumps in a steady tempo, hoping it at least does something. His skin tingles when he hears Namjoon let out a trembling sigh.
“Suck on the head.” Following Namjoon’s instructions, he starts bobbing his head slowly, hollowing out his cheeks with the saliva sloshing inside his mouth. The digits in his hair flexes in a deliberate rhythm, switching in between combing through the stands and tucking it behind Jungkook’s ear when it gets in the way. Everything about Namjoon is so contradictory that Jungkook doesn’t know what to feel anymore, his head just spinning around and around in circles.
When Namjoon eases him off his cock, he swallows down the liquid mixture on reflex. The taste is milder than he expected, a light, salty flavour lingering at his throat that’s similar to eating pussy. The only difference is Namjoon isn’t made out of soft, fleshy folds but instead a heavy, monster cock and somehow Jungkook doesn’t really mind it. He can get used to this.
Namjoon lightly slaps his pec to get his attention. Jungkook’s breath stutters, chest arching upwards as he’s suddenly reminded of how hard he is. “Don’t go drifting off now, we’re not done yet.”
He climbs onto the bed, arranging a small pile of pillows and fishing out a bottle of lube from the bedside table drawer before pulling Jungkook down onto the cotton. This time, Namjoon lays beside him, slipping his forearm under Jungkook’s neck and supporting himself on his elbow. He motions Jungkook’s chin up. “Hope you didn’t forget what you came here to do.”
Namjoon’s hair tickles Jungkook’s cheeks when he leaves a wet kiss on Jungkook’s puffy lips. “Open your mouth and stick your tongue out.” In his hazy trance, Jungkook only manages to slightly part it, tongue peeking out in a rounded triangle. Namjoon squeezes his face with a hand, not hard enough to hurt but enough to ease Jungkook’s jaw looser. He spits, a shiny glob of saliva dropping onto Jungkook’s opened mouth.
“Drink.” Jungkook does what he’s told as his cock leaks even more slick. It’s so ridiculously wet he might as well have a pussy at this point. Namjoon smiles at him, dimples peeking out his cheeks. “Good girl.”
They’re not even having penetrative sex but Jungkook feels like Namjoon is in him, raw and molecular. It sends butterflies fluttering in his stomach and Jungkook buries his face into Namjoon’s neck, not wanting to succumb to the possessive undertone of the gesture. He’ll die before he has to admit how much he liked that.
From above, he hears Namjoon coo, despite the half-mocking tone. “Aw, didn’t take you for the shy type.”
“Just touch me already,” Jungkook mumbles, zero bite left in him to bicker.
Namjoon happily accepts his defeat. “I’ll take my time with you since you asked so nicely.” Without warning, he starts groping Jungkook’s chest, pushing the flesh together with one hand. It’s so malleable it creates the illusion of cleavage on Jungkook, the jiggling and bouncing turning him into a shy mess of pink.
“Your tits are so soft and full, baby girl,” There is it again, girl. It echoes infinitely inside his skull, a broken record. Namjoon’s fingers find his nipple again and flicks roughly.
“Knew it from the moment I saw you, all small waist and long eyelashes. Just a pretty slut waiting to be taken apart and ruined, aren’t you?”
Oh, so Namjoon does look at him. Does he think about him too? Spread out like this in his bed, in his shower, in the lecture hall too, maybe? His cock does an unexpected jump and he reaches for it, but Namjoon slaps his hand away instantly.
“Hands off.”
Jungkook whines loudly in deject. He’s going to go insane.
“Hyung! Please, I need,” The plea gets lost half-way through his vocal chords despite how badly he needs the relief on his dick. Words are hard right now. Squeezing his eyes closed, he nuzzles into Namjoon’s collarbone instead with a small whimper, hoping that’s enough to translate the rest of it.
The hand under Jungkook’s nape curls softly into his skin, scratching tenderly. What is it with Namjoon treating him like a cat? “Tell hyung what you need.”
Jungkook etches his fingernails into the bedsheets, swallowing his pride whole. “Need hyung to tou—touch my cock,”
“Don’t see any cock, baby girl, just a dripping cunt.”
“N-Namjoon-hyung, please,” He splutters, breath erratic.
Still, Namjoon doesn’t relent. “Not gonna do anything until you beg properly.”
Beg. Jungkook thinks back to what Namjoon said at the statue. People like you need to learn your place. People like him. His place. Is this what his place looks like? Filthy, vulgar, forced to submit to get what he wants. In truth, maybe the place he’d always belonged to was here, subservient and pliant, rendered at the complete mercy of someone he barely knows.
Jungkook gives in. “M-my cunt, please touch my cunt, hyung, touch me please touch me please I’m gonna die—ah!”
He doesn’t hear the bottle clicking closed when Namjoon finally encloses Jungkook’s swollen cock in his fist with a thick blob of lube, the excess squeezing out in between his fingers. Jungkook keens, high-pitched, the tension vibrating all the way down to his toes as Namjoon just goes at it, pace ruthless and unrelenting. He feels a bit broken, the way the lube squelches and seemingly turns his cock into a faulty tap. Just leaks and leaks everywhere.
“You hear that? Your cunt is so fucking wet,” Namjoon muses, twisting around his cockhead and making a show out of the liquid gathered at his slit. “Did hyung break you?”
“Ah, ah, annh,”
“What’s that? It’s not enough? Well, hyung better get to work then; can’t leave it all to a stupid slut like you.” If Jungkook had it in him, he probably would’ve yanked at Namjoon’s balls that’s smushed against his thigh in retaliation. But Namjoon increases his speed and jerks in earnest, and Jungkook is left speechless in a writhing mess. He only realises their fingers are wrapped together when Namjoon has the decency to return Jungkook’s hold, the only thing that’s anchoring down Jungkook’s head in the clouds.
He pushes his legs together when the start of his orgasm begins to build in his guts, snowballing deep and heavy.
“‘M gonna, c-cum—mmngh,” Jungkook grits out. Everything—his balls, his calves, his neck—is strung so tight he feels like he’ll tip over the edge any second. He peeks through his clouded, half-lidded vision and the picture of his cock in Namjoon’s fist snaps something in his brain.
Fuck, Namjoon was right. He is small. Whole cock fitting inside Namjoon’s palm kind of small. He makes a sniffling sound.
Namjoon mutters softly. “Yeah, I got you, baby. Cum for hyung,” It’s pathetic how physically Jungkook’s whole body responds to that. The goosebumps littering his skin, the butterflies fluttering again in his stomach; all because of Namjoon.
“Ah, Joon—Namjoon-hyung, cum—cumming, gonna cum, fuck,” He bites down on his lip as his cock spurts out an opaque, stringy mess, lathering Namjoon’s knuckles in a hot, cloudy mixture. His hips helplessly cant up along Namjoon’s thrusts as he pumps the remnants of Jungkook’s orgasm out, like a ragged marionette on invisible strings. The cum, lube, sweat, it’s everywhere.
But Namjoon doesn’t stop. The hand on his dick keeps moving and Jungkook wails. He helplessly thrashes, trying to avoid Namjoon’s movements.
“No, wait—hyung, no more,” He rasps, voice winded, trying to bat Namjoon away but he ends up gripping shakily at Namjoon’s wrist with zero strength left in him. His cock is getting rubbed raw, for fuck’s sake.
“Stay still.” Namjoon pays him little attention, fixed bull-headed on the lewd mess coating Jungkook’s cherry-pink cock. He looks so absorbed in Jungkook’s reactions it makes Jungkook want to hide. Shy, inexperienced, feeling like a virgin all over again.
He begs. “Please, I can’t do this, hurts—,”
“Don’t make me say it again, Jungkook.”
“Hnng—please,”
“Just a little bit more, okay?” Namjoon huffs, clearly getting frustrated. He’s still considerate enough to suggest, “If you really can’t, just push me away. Or hit me, bite me, whatever, just let me do this.”
Shit, okay, if Jungkook gets to hit him without repercussions then he supposes it’s a fair deal. With half of his sanity lost in his horny brain fog, he makes a small, garbled sound of agreement. There’s no sign of time passing, just the same filthily wet noises filling up his eardrums and Namjoon’s ragged breath on his face, teeth sinking into his plump, lower lip in concentration. Jungkook watches as he tugs it inwards, jawline jutting out into a sharp edge.
The longer he looks at Namjoon the more delirious he seems to become. A bead of sweat rolls down Namjoon’s sideburn and Jungkook, bless his morbid mating instincts, licks it up. Namjoon hisses at the sensation which only spurs on Jungkook’s mindless licking, slobbering down Namjoon's neck. He sucks hard enough that there’s probably going to be a hickey under Namjoon’s mullet later.
Namjoon sounds disgusted and out of breath at the same time. “What are you, a dog?”
“Shut up,” Jungkook blushes, stunned by the directness. The warmth in his cheeks spreads when he feels a sudden tightness in his balls, the urge to pee pulsating deep in his belly. “Fuck, I feel weird,”
“Weird how?” Namjoon turns to face him, intrigued.
“Feels like—like I, I need to pee? Fuck, I don’t know, hnng, ah—” A moan gets torn out of him as Namjoon twists his wrist at a particular angle, hips convulsing.
“Oh. That sounds about right.”
“W-what? You’re not helping,”
“It means you’re getting there. C’mon, focus,”
Jungkook can’t believe what Namjoon is saying. Did he even hear what Jungkook said? “I—, I’m about to piss myself, hyung! How-hnng, am I supposed to f-focus?”
Namjoon doesn’t resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Jesus it’s not piss, Jungkook, you’re gonna squirt, okay? That’s what it’s supposed to feel like.”
He doesn’t question how Namjoon knows but he stubbornly refuses to listen. “No, you’re lying, don’t—don’t lie to me,”
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“B-because you’re—hnnhhg—you’re mean and you hate me a-and, you want to see me wet myself,” He hiccups, knowing full well he’s rambling but he feels weird and exposed and Namjoon still isn’t helping by deadpanning.
“Been there, done that. Now can you stop being ridiculous?”
“Screw you,” Jungkook heaves, face scrunching in annoyance. Then he continues, “Y-you promise nothing’s wrong?”
“Yes! Promise.” It doesn’t sound very reassuring but it’s enough to melt the tense weight off Jungkook’s shoulders, his head lolling back into Namjoon’s arm. He can feel the pressure in his lower half filling up fast, electric, scrambling to spill over the confines of his organs.
“Hyu—hyung,” He gasps, overwhelmed, the rest of his sentence escaping him.
“Coming?”
Jungkook nods like a bobble head.
“Good, you’re doing so good, let go baby girl,” As soon as Namjoon finishes talking, a stream of transparent liquid gushes out of Jungkook’s cock and Jungkook’s mouth falls open into an inaudible scream, a sob without tears. He can’t tell what’s going on anymore except for the sweltering warmth hitting his stomach and Namjoon’s hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, unmoving, his entire being getting pissed out of his dick.
He blinks away the fogginess in his eyes. His arms, legs, bones, all feel like jelly.
Namjoon’s voice is so far away. Jungkook hones into it with what’s left of his coherent thought.
“Fuck, you’re amazing, Jungkook. You did so well.”
His vocal chords refuse to make a sound but he does return the kiss Namjoon’s pressing against his lips, letting his tongue lace languidly with Namjoon’s. Their kiss breaks for a few seconds, then Namjoon returns, feeding him water mouth-to-mouth. Some of it dribbles down his jaw but he swallows the rest with stride, blindly chasing the needed relief.
He grunts, post-nut clarity seeping into his ears with a pink flush. “I think you almost killed me.”
“I honestly didn't think you’d be able to do it the first try,” Namjoon chuckles, wiping Jungkook’s stomach down with an absurd amount of tissues that came out of nowhere. “Guess you exceeded my expectations.”
Still cocky as ever. Jungkook makes a face and sticks his tongue out, rolling over to his side. “Whatever.” As he shifts, he feels something poking behind his thighs, hot and stiff.
Oh right. Namjoon hasn’t come yet. His dick squishes against the milky flesh, wedged in between the softest part of his legs. It tickles.
“You’re still…hard,” He describes the obvious before his brain could catch up with his mouth. He can’t see it but he’s sure that Namjoon does another dramatic, overexaggerated eye roll.
Namjoon also pinches the skin on his hip bone, making him yelp. “No shit, Sherlock. I definitely owe it to you for the subpar blowjob.”
The flush on his ears deepens into a cherry-red, shame twisting his stomach into knots. He tried, he really did, and Namjoon should cut him some slack because surely no one else can master the art of cock-sucking on their first try. Maybe he should suck Jungkook off instead if he’s so adamant on teaching. Jungkook wouldn’t mind having Namjoon on his knees again, mouth stuffed with his cock if it meant he’d finally shut up for once.
Namjoon’s smouldering breath on his ear jerks him out of his fantasy.
“So, you gonna do anything or is this a free-for-all?” He grazes his fingernails over Jungkook’s waist, trailing downwards to his asscheek where he sinks his grip into the creamy flesh, feeling Jungkook up. Jungkook involuntarily shivers, oversensitive.
Admittedly, Jungkook does feel a little bad for the mediocre effort. Namjoon did clothe him, feed him, make him squirt after all, which ticks off more than most of what Jungkook considers the criteria for a decent enough person. The least he can do is put their mutual rivalry aside and return the favour in bed.
“I’ll, um, help,” He tries to ignore how his heart is beating a hole in his chest as he wriggles his ass backwards, grinding on Namjoon’s cock in tiny circles.
Namjoon echoes his text message. “Hm, whore behaviour.”
He prepares to shove at Namjoon but he is disrupted by his ass being pried apart, a liberal amount of cold lube slapped onto his hole without warning. Jungkook can’t help but panic, tongue growing thick in his throat.
“Wait, what are you—,” He stiffens up, reaching behind him for any leverage on Namjoon’s limbs. Namjoon catches his wrist in reflex and effortlessly folds it down onto the small of his back. He keeps getting manhandled like he’s nothing.
“Relax, I’m not gonna put my cock in you,” Namjoon reassures him quickly, already letting go of Jungkook’s wrist. He slots his cock in between Jungkook’s ass, skin-to-skin, and rolls his hips in, biting into the sensitive spot on Jungkook’s neck.
“Just gonna hump you raw and make you fall apart.” Jungkook can’t stop himself from letting out the most guttural, pornographic moan.
“Hold tight, sweetheart.” Digging his heel into the mattress, Namjoon wastes no time driving into the warm curve of Jungkook’s ass. Every slide of his cock on Jungkook’s hole has it clenching at the blunt, foreign sensation of every upwards tilt as if it’s trying to kiss Namjoon’s cockhead, and it’s obscene, his body seemingly inviting Namjoon inside. He bounces in recoil against Namjoon’s abdomen on each hump, shaken up like a ragdoll and his brain turned into a jumble of mushy cotton. He feels himself getting hard again.
Namjoon is smiling against his nape, deranged. “Look at you, getting turnt on from being used like a fucking fleshlight. You like being hyung’s little fucktoy, don’t you?”
The talk is getting to him, stinging behind his eyes. It pricks for a few seconds, then a teardrop rolls down his cheek, hurled into the sheets in front of him from the force of Namjoon’s thrusts. He doesn’t know which is more humiliating, the fact that he’s crying from overstimulation or the fact that he’s thoroughly enjoying every second of it.
“Y-yes, ‘m hyung—hyung’s fucktoy,” Jungkook cries in little hiccups. He’s falling apart, fast, crumbling into disconnected pieces. Namjoon must have broken something in him.
He sucks a bruise below Jungkook’s jaw. “Mine?”
“Mmhm, hyung’s, to use,”
“Yeah, baby was made to take my cock.” Namjoon hums low, pleased.
He squeezes Jungkook’s fleshy globes tighter around his shaft as he continues to frot roughly. The glide is stickier now, foaming up all their bodily fluids and lube into a milky mixture, smearing onto Jungkook’s balls. The lewd feeling of Namjoon’s cock pushing against him is already enough sensory overload for Jungkook to teeter on the edge of cumming again, he doesn’t know how Namjoon still has enough stamina to keep going.
A few more ruts and Namjoon’s breath is turning hoarse, stretching his palm over Jungkook’s lower stomach and shoving Jungkook backwards into his own torso. His voice is gravelly like sandpaper when he speaks.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, Jungkook-ah,” Jungkook keens at Namjoon’s throaty moan of his name. “You’re gonna take it like a good little bitch, yeah?”
He nods jerkily. “Hmmh, give it to m-me,”
The entire bed frame creaks from Namjoon’s last sprinting humps, stringing together a disjointed, off-beat melody with the thick squelching of lube in between their bodies and Jungkook’s choked-off mewls. Namjoon grunts, husky and raw, his hips stuttering to a halt as he spills white streaks all over Jungkook’s ass and lower back, cock twitching angrily in a nasty sheen. There’s so much cum it coats Jungkook’s rear side in a glossy shine like some messy, creamy icing.
Jungkook feels the wet tip of Namjoon’s cock nudge against him, slathering the remaining cum at his slit onto his slippery hole. He even has the audacity to slap it with his fingers every so slightly, rubbing his seed into Jungkook with a few light smacks. God, Jungkook feels used.
Namjoon gathers some of his cum on his palm, milky strings webbed between his fingers, and curls his hand around Jungkook’s hard cock once more.
“Ah—!” He squeals, sensitive and twitching from the overuse. It takes a mere few strokes until Jungkook is cumming again, dripping a significantly less amount onto the crumpled bed sheets, little left in him to spend. Except this time Namjoon doesn’t say anything, observing Jungkook’s climax in silence with dazed pupils and a pale flush dusting his cheeks.
He shifts forward so he can kiss Jungkook on the lips, drinking down all of his tiny noises with unexpected grace. Instead of a hurried fervour, he coaxes Jungkook into a gentle, lingering kiss that tingles the tip of his tongue and warmly ripples throughout his body. Namjoon tastes of sweat and salt and it’s gross but Jungkook still wants to make out with him until he can’t feel his mouth.
They pull apart with Namjoon giving Jungkook’s tongue a final, longing suck, faces inches apart as they slowly catch their breaths. It’s sappy, with half of Namjoon’s upper draped over Jungkook in a pampering hold and Jungkook flustered, still trying to process their whole hate-sex escapade. Neither of them seem to care how close they are at this point, exhaustion melting both their brains into liquid.
Namjoon is the first to say something. There’s a wicked glint in his eyes. “Let me put my dick in you next time.”
A tremble vibrates down Jungkook’s spine. Oh, how romantic. Jungkook wouldn’t have expected less. “Only if you buy me dinner.”
“Only if you ride my dick.”
That doesn’t sound too bad. “Okay, easy.”