Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13902798.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      방탄소년단_|_Bangtan_Boys_|_BTS
  Relationship:
      Jeon_Jungkook/Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, Jeon_Jungkook/Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Jeon
      Jungkook/Park_Jimin, Kim_Taehyung_|_V/Park_Jimin, Jung_Jiwoo/Min_Yoongi_|
      Suga
  Character:
      Jeon_Jungkook, Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, Kim_Taehyung_|_V, Park_Jimin_(BTS), Kim
      Namjoon_|_RM, Jung_Hoseok_|_J-Hope, Jung_Jiwoo
  Additional Tags:
      Pseudo-Incest, Step-parents, stepdad!yoongi, stepson!jungkook, im_going
      to_hell, I_really_am_holy_shit_am_I_rlly_posting_this?_yeah, Alternate
      Universe_-_High_School, jungkook_is_17, yoongi_is_old, Internalized
      Homophobia, Homophobic_Language, Jeon_Jungkook_is_a_Little_Shit, Jeon
      Jungkook_Is_a_Tease, Min_Yoongi_|_Suga_Is_Whipped, Moral_Dilemmas, Taboo,
      Bottom_Jeon_Jungkook, Lingerie, Daddy_Kink, Praise_Kink, Age_Difference,
      Bondage, Marking, this_is_going_to_be_kinky_idk, Sleep_Sex, jungkook_is
      cunning_but_he's_dumb, Jeon_Jungkook_&_Kim_Taehyung_|_V_Are_Best_Friends,
      Underage_Drinking, Recreational_Drug_Use, Top_Min_Yoongi_|_Suga, Mutual
      Pining, Cheating, Unresolved_Sexual_Tension, Unresolved_Emotional
      Tension, Dubious_Consent, Depression, this_sounds_a_lot_more...._awful
      than_it_is, Biting, Sub_Jeon_Jungkook
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-08 Updated: 2018-03-28 Chapters: 5/7 Words: 39368
****** Oscuridad ******
by vestals
Summary
     His eyes shot up once more and Yoongi turned his head away, but a
     little too late. They both froze for a second before Jungkook’s mouth
     curled into a smile.
     The flare of the other’s nostrils confirmed what he’d already
     suspected. Still, he said nothing, basking silently in satisfaction.
     He had been staring at his ass. And he seemed to have found it rather
     worthy of his attention at that, too fixated on it to not to get
     caught.
     (Or the one where Jungkook tries to fuck around but fucks up instead)
Notes
     well. heres this. uhhhhh dont fuck ur step dad but on the other hand
     if ur too against this dont read it lmao
     since this was supposed to be a one-shot i was like eh ill take a
     break to write it and now its 35k and im only 2/3 done so i figured
     hey might as well return to ao3. i missed bein on here uno
     but yeah i rlly cannot believe im posting this bc its lowkey fucked
     up.. id like to say thank u to my beta for encouraging me and shit
     also can u believe how loose my morals have become since i started
     writing
     and as always this is named after a song... oscuridad by jasper bones
***** Chapter 1 *****
Jungkook liked to play games as much as he liked to win. And he really liked to
win.
It started off as a drunken dare from Taehyung at the beginning of senior year,
as they sat together with a bottle of shoplifted Smirnoff from the local corner
store between them.
“Dude. Okay, this is fucking weird,” he’d giggled, after belching to get
Jungkook’s attention.
“You’re weird.”
“Yeah, so I guess it kinda makes sense,” he pushed him, “Don’t you wanna know
what I was gonna say, though?”
“Probably some gay shit about some random old dude making your dick hard,” he
scoffed, an exaggerated action, hands flying out to dramatise his point.
Taehyung turned his attention back to the movie they weren’t watching on TV,
“...Oh. Am I really-” another burp, “Am I really that predictable?”
“Fuckin’,” he slurred, “Absolutely, to the point I’m thinking of personally…
personally purchasing you one of those sex dolls… you know the ones that look-
that look alive. Wasser ‘name? Sandra? Sophia?”
“I’m gay, asswipe, I have no interest in sticking my dick in some robo-pussy.”
“Flip her over and give her a haircut, or something. Have Namjoon, have him…
recompute the thing so he sounds like a dude.”
His friend waved him off, “Work… ‘S too much.”
“Fair point,” he winced as he took another sip of his more-vodka-than-cranberry
vodka cranberry, “So whose wrinkly old ball sack ya wanna pop in your mouth
this time, huh?”
“Okay, don’t judge me-”
“You’re losing me, Taehyung.”
“Fuckin… okay. Yoongi.”
Jungkook looked at the TV, then at his cup, clutched tightly in his hand, then
his friend. His Yoongi? The Yoongi that was sleeping about fifteen feet above
him in his rightful place next to Jungkook’s mom?
Tae giggled tentatively, “...Uh… aren’t you gonna hit me… and like, call me a
slut. Or something?”
Jungkook opened his mouth, drunk brain growing distracted. He’d never thought
of Yoongi that way. Or no, that was a lie. Maybe he had sometimes when he’d
wake him up for school and his natural slur would deepen. Or every now and
then, right before he came, the faceless man in his mind would smell faintly of
his step dad's cologne. But Jungkook had just marked that up to his teenage
hormones getting out of hand, to some sort of weird coincidence caused only by
the fact that Yoongi was the closest thing around with a cock to fuck him with.
But if Tae saw it, too... What if that meant it wasn’t just his dick thinking?
What if there was something to Yoongi-
Realising he had been asked a question, he stuttered, “O-Oh. Uh-”
“Holy shit,” Tae interrupted. “Oh my god.”
“Dude, what?” he snapped in a weak attempt to deflect.
“Dude you’re into him, too, aren’t you?”
“You’re into my stepdad?” he feigned disgust, nose wrinkling as he frowned at
the other.
“You’re into my stepdad?” Tae drunkenly mocked, “You’re a little bitch, Jeon.
Admit it, you wanna get dooooooooommed.”
“Fucking shut up,” he resisted the urge to yell at him, lunge across the couch
in fear said stepdad would awaken and be forced downstairs.
“Fight me,” he taunted, “Deny it, hoe. Oh that’s right. You can’t because you
can’t lie to me to save your ass.”
“Stop chasing after old dudes,” Jungkook turned away, dismissive.
But Taehyung wouldn’t let it go. “You know…”
“Stop.”
“You look like a grown ass man now. You could probably pull it.”
This was true. Jungkook had flourished around March. His face had filled out
and he’d lost his baby fat, waist defining and lean frame growing muscular.
Then, he’d joined the Varsity football team, and all hell had broken loose at
school. It was suddenly as if, over a few short months, he’d gained the ability
to make anyone come running at the flick of a wrist. And he liked it, let it
get to his head, the fact that he’d grown into someone who was, within his
circles at least, irresistible.
Who was he to deny such advances from so many of his peers, most of whom were
pretty enough for him to fuck or get fucked by? But then again, Jungkook liked
games. And at Garfield High School, there were none left for him to play. So
maybe he could up the ante, see if his charms worked outside of the cliche
school environment he was used to.
“...You think so?”
Taehyung shrugged, “What could go wrong?”
“Uh,” he shook his head, “He could tell my mom, you fucking idiot?”
“I am trying to help you?”
“How is trying to convince me to suck Yoongi off-”
Taehyung quirked an eyebrow, “Oh so you wanna suck him off?”
“I’m gonna call your fuckin’ sister to pick you up, you little shit.”
“You won’t. But you know what you will do? This,” he pointed to the couch
almost as if the action sat tangible between them, “Operation: Fuck Your
Stepdad.”
“This is… deplorable.”
“Jungkook, I dare you.”
Jungkook was not a coward. “Fucking. Fucking fine.”
 
The whole conversation was forgotten for a period of time between the last week
of September, when it had taken place, and Halloweekend. Jungkook, though he
hadn’t given it too much active thought, found his gaze lingering on the other
and had begun to notice that the faceless man in his fantasies had started to
slur down at him as opposed to grunt.
Halloweekend, however, brought it back to his full attention. With the help of
alcohol, of course.
He and Tae had decided dress as playboy bunnies. More accurately, entire
football team had and although it was supposed to be a joke, he couldn’t help
but notice as he smoothed down his baby pink corset that he looked good.
It shouldn’t have worked so well, but it did, the look of his bulging thighs in
fishnets and his already cinched waist highlighted by the bodysuit. He spun
around. The white puff situated around the tailbone of the outfit made his ass
look… splendid. What the fuck.
“Yo, check my tuckjob- oh shit,” Tae’s jaw dropped as he stepped into his
bedroom with a half full Miller Lite in hand. He burped, “No homo, but I’d
literally nut all over you in that.”
“Thanks… I guess?” Jungkook didn’t pay the comment much mind, poking at his
asscheek experimentally. He felt soft. Then, his lip wrinkled, “Your tuckjob
sucks, your entire left nut is out.”
“Dude,” Tae pushed his beer out to him to resituate himself, “You aren’t drunk
enough. Finish this, we got four more to work through before Jackson shows up.”
“Think I’ll get some tonight?”
“I’ll do you one better. Give you twenty if you hook up thrice.”
“Make outs count?” Jungkook asked, “Should I put some… lipgloss on? Like I
think my mom has some.”
“Yes to both. Also, what the fuck.”
“I know, that’s what I said,” he laughed, brushing past him through the door to
root around for the bathroom.
See, Jungkook was a bro. Or he was meant to be a bro, he supposed, but did bros
like getting all dressed up in lingerie, bent over miscellaneous furniture and
told they’re pretty? Did they daydream about it in History class and in the
locker room showers when they were all alone? He’d often wondered how he’d
look, all dolled up, but actually seeing himself like this? He felt godlike.
He spread a generous layer of gloss over his lips before smacking them, pleased
at how the pinkish tint matched the silk of the bodysuit. The only problem he
had with the ensemble was how it dug into his ass, too narrow to cover it
comfortably.
After he’d adjusted it, he looked back in the bathroom mirror, eyes not
focusing on who he figured was Tae behind him. “I know this is supposed to be a
joke, but like, don’t you think this sorta looks good? Like, Chad’ll probably
call me a faggot again, but-”
“Jungkook.”
Though deep, the voice did not sound at all like Taehyung's, a little less
smooth and years older. He met his eyes in the mirror and turned around.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“Aren’t you not supposed to be drinking beer and dressed in lingerie at 5:
30pm?”
Jungkook twitched at his response, how unbothered it seemed. I mean, that’s how
it should have been, though. Why had he felt so entitled to a flustered
reaction? Why had he wanted it?
He crossed his arms over his chest, doing nothing to push the can out of sight.
“What are you gonna do, tell my mom?”
“If you want me to keep your secrets, I’d suggest you treat me with a least a
little respect.”
He had to give him credit. Yoongi kept his mouth shut for the most part about
Jungkook’s drinking and smoking and the folder of nudes that had been spotted
on his phone. The only time he’d told his mom about one of his fuck-ups was
when he’d thrown up on the carpet, something that Yoongi reasoned “had the
potential to turn dangerous”.
“Whatever,” he scoffed, spinning back to the mirror and hunching over it, “It’s
Halloweekend, the whole team is going like this.”
His eyes shot up once more, and Yoongi turned his head away, but a little too
late. They both froze for a second before Jungkook’s mouth curled into a smile.
The flare of the other’s nostrils confirmed what he’d already suspected. Still,
he said nothing, basking silently in the satisfaction. He had been staring at
his ass. And he seemed to have found it rather worthy of his attention at that,
too fixated on it to not to get caught.
His voice, however, gave nothing away, flat as usual. “Make sure you put the
makeup back, kid, you know how much your mother hates mess.”
Then, he spun on his heel and left, calling, “Curfew, as always, is midnight.
I’ll be waiting. Don’t be late.”
But Jungkook knew he could get away with it. Though he made Yoongi’s life hell,
the elder seemed to like him enough to let him do with pretty much whatever he
wanted. Or maybe that was just habit, a result of the years they’d spent
together.
Jungkook’s biological father had died when he was nine. And as far as he could
remember, he’d been amazing at his job, doing everything from spending his
weekends off with him to taking him to baseball games and supporting him and
his mom to the best of his ability.
Which meant the both of them had taken his death too hard, so hard in fact that
the mother and son had practically isolated themselves for around three years
until she started dating again and eventually met Yoongi a few months later.
But where she had been given a chance to tidy up her social skills, grow used
to loving someone other than her son once more, the boy in question had not.
He’d been a scrawny kid, a crybaby, and had lost his dad during that awkward
phase around middle school, a hellish combination that led to a fair amount of
torment from his peers. 
All of this had changed when puberty hit, of course, and the second-semester of
junior year had begun. When Yoongi had met him, he’d still been an innocent.
Or close enough to one at least. So he had done all that he could to make him
comfortable, or in other words, he’d spoiled him. Which, due to the fact that
he’d never had any experience with kids beforehand, meant that it turned into
his personal style of parenting.
And it stuck, even when the things he did for Jungkook slowly turned from
buying him ice cream when he’d had a tough day at school into not telling when
he caught him sneaking in drunk three hours later than he was supposed to. It
was clear Yoongi still saw him as a good kid, one with his head on his
shoulders when push came to shove. Whether or not this was still true was up to
debate.
Though one had to argue against it when the first thing he said when he found
Taehyung was, “Dude, remember when we were drunk last time?”
“You look hot, bro. But yeah, I do.”
He paused, “And about Yoongi?”
“Kook, you admitting to wanting to fuck your step dad was literally the cherry
on top of that shit sundae, how could I not?”
“I think I should still do it.”
Tae blinked, “Something just happened. Or well, you’re dressed like a fucking
stripper, of course something just happened.”
“His eyes were glued to my ass, dude. And he was like… I think he blushed?”
His friend looked disbelieving, “Yoongi blushed? That’s not the stoic dom I
fell for.”
“Back off, bitch,” Jungkook pushed him.
To which Taehyung pushed him back twice as hard, “You’re the bitch, here,
bitch. I’m the one pointing out facts.”
Jungkook took a final swig of his beer before cracking open the next one.
“I think you should start by calling him daddy.”
“As if this ultra gay fucking outfit isn’t degrading enough.”
 
The party, save for the stupid costumes everyone was wearing (Jungkook had
outdone the entire football team, not that their overly heterosexual asses had
said a word), was much like any other, cheap beer, jello shots and an abundance
of puking Freshman.
Tae had pulled his dick out at some point, though maybe it had just slipped
from his bodysuit, Jungkook couldn’t remember, Chad had called him a faggot for
the lip gloss, though it may have been a twisted term of endearment, and he’d
scored a solid makeout session with a slutty nurse, then a slutty watermelon
(?) before a lower quality but salvageable one occured with the help of a
Sophomore named Josh, who threw in a little hand action, too. Which ensured him
his twenty bucks. All in all, it was a decent night.
So yeah, obviously, Jungkook had lost track of time, remembering only that
there was a curfew at all after Josh had called him daddy (something he’d tried
not to laugh at in his fishnets) and he thought of Yoongi, sitting passed out
on the couch with a beer in his own hand.
“Uh,” Jungkook peeled himself out of the bed of the house’s guest room,
ignoring his hookup’s protests, “My parents are waiting for me.”
Josh whined, “Can I get your number, at least?”
He pretended not to hear, just fought his way into the rest of his clothes and
stumbled out the door.
 
To: Tae-HUNG
Yoyou cominf hom w me ?!?
 
From: Tae-HUNG
Jimin suckingmy off c u mnday
 
He sent a thumbs up emoji after grabbing his discarded coat at the door and
making his way out into the cold. He was shivering, which was to be expected
seeing as he was wearing next to nothing and he considered just calling Yoongi
to get him, but considering how drunk he was, decided not to push his luck.
It was only a ten minute walk home, anyways.
Surprisingly, it didn’t sober him up, the cold air working against his brain to
push him higher. Maybe he shouldn’t have grabbed that jello shot on the way
out? No, he knew he’d be able to keep it down. As long as he could manage that,
his secret was safe with Yoongi.
Who was in his usual spot in front of the TV when he got home, just as
expected.
“You are…,” he didn’t bother to look up at the door, checking his watch
instead, “Exactly forty-three minutes late.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“I should stop letting you get away with this shit. I really fuckin’ should.”
Something dawned on Jungkook, “How drunk are you?”
“Not as drunk as you are,” the older man snapped back, “Sober enough for your
disrespectful ass to piss me off.”
He froze at this. Yoongi was usually much more… subdued would be the word
Jungkook was looking for. Most of the time, when he was late, he got an eye
roll, an annoyed tut and vague threat. He was never cursed at.
Could Jungkook manipulate the situation, perhaps? Taehyung’s advice echoed
through his mind,“I think you should start by calling him daddy.”  What a
lovely idea.
Admittedly, the reality of acting on such impulses was an something he’d felt
rather apprehensive of in the past. I mean, he could fuck around with the idea
all he wanted, but the truth was once he took that step… well, there really was
no way around the fact that it was technically incest. Even if they weren’t
blood related.
Which, his brain reminded him once more, they were not.
The thing was, though, he now had more shots in him than he could count. Not to
mention the fact that he was still feeling the aftershocks of post coital bliss
from the two star handjob. He felt like he could rule the world.
Which is what led him to widen his eyes and pout, “Sorry, daddy. Won’t happen
again.”
Yoongi had been taking a sip of the beer in his hand, but Jungkook heard him
choke, expression masked in the dark room. “Wha-what the f-fuck.”
Had his tactic worked? Or was Yoongi just flat out shocked? He took a step
closer, a large one, blocking the TV.
It was clear that he was drunker than he’d let on, the screen’s reflection
highlighting the glossiness of his eyes, “Jungkook.”
“Hm?” he replied in a second, tone innocent. “What is it, daddy? Still angry at
me?”
Yoongi crossed his legs and sat up in his seat, “Jungkook, what are you doing?”
“You wanted respect, didn’t you, daddy? This not enough?”
His eyes grew wider and he cleared his throat, cornered as Jungkook made his
way towards him.
“No-”
“No?” Jungkook cocked his head, bit his lip, hoping desperately that Yoongi
could see it. He knew how good he looked like this, had been told by enough
horny tinder guys over the past few months.
“Jeon Jungkook-”
“What’s wrong, daddy?” he crooned, sinking slowly to his knees.
He squinted, “Oh my god, you’re covered in hickies-”
“Mmhmm,” he agreed, “Wish they were from you?”
“Okay, this is-”
Jungkook splayed his fingers across Yoongi’s knee, and the other recoiled. He
considered breifly if he should actually dive in tonight, squeeze in a fourth
hookup, just to say he did. But he stopped himself. These were just mind games,
incentives for Yoongi to take the bait. Jungkook wanted to drive him crazy and
such things often took time.
“Jungkook, do not touch me, I am your fucking father-”
“Daddy,” he cut off, fingers sliding up, “Daddy,” this one came out as more of
a moan.
“You’re drunk,” Yoongi finally took the steps to lean forward and bat his hands
away.
“So’re you,” this, admittedly came off as a defiant slur, but he quickly fixed
his voice, shuffling closer. “I’m trying to be good, daddy. Trying to make it
up to you.”
“This is not what I meant,” he was beginning to sound panicked.
Jungkook tried to keep his smile small and innocent. “What did you mean, daddy?
Wanna suck me off instead-”
“What the fuck has been going on with you, lately?” he spat.
He paid it no mind, arching his back best he could to make sure Yoongi caught
sight of the pompom on his ass, the one that had drawn him in earlier, “I could
ask you the same thing. Why were you checking me out the bathroom, huh?”
“I most certainly was not.”
“Hmmm,” he frowned, plopping his chin onto his lap, “Right. Sure. Think I’m
blind, daddy?” Now this was a total shot in the dark. If Yoongi had been eyeing
him in recent days, he’d been sly about it. However, what were the odds he’d
only been checked out once, for Chrissakes. “Think I don’t see the way you look
at me?”
He turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Jungkook. We’re drunk, okay? Can we deal
with this in the morning?”
“Oh so you want it then instead? Morning head kind of guy?”
Yoongi shifted uncomfortably, “No. What I mean is discussing your behaviour
with your mother.”
“You wouldn’t,” he narrowed his eyes. The fact he’d avoided his question had
not gone over his head, regardless of the alcohol in his system.
“This is not- not normal, okay? Jungkook, this is morally incorrect in so many
ways.”
“You like it,” he accused.
“Bullshit,” the answer had come a little too quickly, sounded calculated.
“Alright,” Jungkook shrugged, suddenly nonchalant as he rose to his feet.
“Let’s go.” He held out his hand for the other.
Who shifted awkwardly in the armchair, “Uh. I wanna finish…,” he trailed off
and squeezed his eyes shut in defeat when the advertisements stopped rolling.
“You wanna finish your infomercial?”
“Y-yeah.”
“On women’s shaving devices?”
“Your mom wants-”
“No she doesn’t,” he interrupted, “Your cock is hard.”
“I hope you’re fucking terrified for tomorrow, Jungkook. I really hope you
are,” he was angry suddenly, seething, beer clutched tightly in his hand.
“Are you gonna tell me I’m wrong, then?” he refused to move, crossing his arms
over his chest, “Stand up. Prove it.”
“We should fucking ship you off to boot camp, you little brat.”
“You should stop avoiding my questions, daddy.”
“Stop. Calling. Me. That.”
“Face this like a man. Stand up.”
“God,” he was shaking, voice quiet and restrained and Jungkook was finally
scared.
He needed to hold his ground. He plastered on a self-satisfied smirk, one that
was more muscle memory than anything. Then he held out his hand again, “Let’s
go upstairs. Come on.”
“If I stand up,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, defeated, “You will leave
me alone. And we will never speak of this ever, and I mean ever, again. Got
it?”
“I got it.”
The older man took his hand, desperately avoiding his eyes, and well, body too.
Jungkook yanked him up, didn’t trap him in any sort of embrace, but pulled him
close enough for his body to press flush against his.
He gulped, which Jungkook felt against his shoulder. He also felt his erection,
straining tight against his pyjama pants.
“Ah,” if his mouth were any closer to his ear, they would have been touching,
“There we go, daddy. As expected.”
Finally, he pushed him away, and Jungkook fell back, submissive and exhausted
now that he had gotten what he wanted.
“Are you happy?” he hissed.
“Extremely.”
“I meant it, Jungkook. This never happened.”
“Sure,” he called cheerily up the stairs.
“And I never want to hear the word daddy leave your mouth again.”
He chuckled after him, watching his stumble up the stairs, almost as if he were
running from the 17 year old boy dressed like a bunny standing behind him.
 
When they were first introduced, Jungkook had been unable to look him in the
eyes. He’d loved the fair as a kid, especially going with his mom, lame as his
classmates called him for it. And she knew this, had organised for the three of
them to meet up there so Jungkook was more comfortable.
Yoongi still scared him, though. His hands seemed too big for his body,
intimidating as he held his right one out to shake Jungkook’s smaller one.
“Hey kid,” he’d flashed him a gummy smile, genuine as could be. “My name’s
Yoongi. Your mother and I have been going out for a while, and well… I’ve heard
so much about you.”
Jungkook had smiled at the ground shyly. His voice always had been charming in
its own way, comfortable and soothing. Yoongi didn’t seem scary, like the
stepdads he’d always imagined, scheming thieves who wanted nothing more than to
steal his mother and treat him like dirt.
And he’d continued to prove the child’s suspicions as true over the course day,
elbowing him lightly in the side if he said something funny, tugging him away
to play arcade games and buttering him up with churros.
By the end, he began to laugh along with him, not feel entirely uncomfortable
when his mother ran off to get something. By the end, Yoongi already felt like
someone he could trust.
 
Clearly, this trust had gotten too strong, or maybe Jungkook had just forgotten
the existence of the boundaries they were meant to have bit by bit until… until
what? What could last night be considered?
This was something he asked himself as he lay in bed at around one the next
day, skull pounding, throat parched, and bladder aching for relief. He could
hear them downstairs, chattering away in a light tone. Good, Yoongi must have
kept quiet about what had happened, just like he’d promised. Or he could only
hope so. It was noon, they would have been up for hours already, afterall.
He took a sip of water before flopping back down and wincing at his headache.
What was he supposed to do now? He hadn’t been planning to come on that strong,
hadn’t meant to get on his knees and moan at him, practically begging to suck
him off. He’d wanted things to start out slow, escalate so he had the chance to
test the waters, back out if he needed to or changed his mind.
Because initiating an affair with your stepdad of, what? Had it been three
years, now? Four? Was kind of a big deal.
Mainly, though, he was afraid he’d come on too strong, too suddenly, especially
if he had accused the other for ogling him wrongly and Yoongi really had no
interest. His dick could have just been rock solid because he was drunk and
Jungkook was objectively really fucking hot. It didn’t necessarily have to mean
anything? Or did it?
For the first time in forever, Jungkook felt insecure, stupid. Like he’d really
made a fool of himself. He did not want to face the consequences. He wanted to
run.
On the other hand, if he laid in bed any longer he would most certainly urinate
himself and if Yoongi caught wind of that? There was no doubt in his mind that
he’d tell his mother everything. Well, maybe not the part about him having a
boner, but oh well. Like she’d believe Jungkook, anyways.
He mentally slapped himself for his stupidity. After which, he decided the
punishment wasn’t just enough and did so physically, wincing and cupping his
cheek in pain.
 
Surely enough, the second he stepped out into the hallway and shut the door
behind him, his mom called, “Kookie, sweetheart, you up?”
Fuck. Shot down before he’d even had a chance to try and sneak back in
unnoticed. “Uh,” his voice cracked. He cleared it, “Yeah, I uh, just need to
like… shower.”
“Okay,” she called, “Don’t use all the hot water like last time, alright? And
come down when you’re done, we haven’t seen enough of you this week.”
Jungkook was about 100% sure that statement did not apply to Min Yoongi. “Yeah.
Alright, mom, be down in twenty.”
He swung his fist out at the air, annoyed. God, why was karma kicking his ass-
oh wait, he knew exactly the fuck why. “Stupid,” he whispered to himself as he
swung into the bathroom, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Other than remedying the fact he no longer smelt of a bar, the shower really
didn’t do shit for him. Or actually, he was able to soothe his headache a
little, too. But his hangover was a temporary issue, whereas facing the
consequences of propositioning Yoongi was not. His impulsivity the previous
night may have sealed his fate, ruined the only relationship with an father
figure he’d had since his real dad.
But if that was his role, why did Jungkook want to fuck him so bad?
You see, this guilt in no way affected the attraction he felt to the other. In
fact, acting on the desires that he’d stowed away in the back of his mind only
seemed to push them to the centre of his attention instead. All he’d really
done was make them extremely difficult to repress. I mean, yes, he’d have to
admit he’d kinda wanted to try it, that it wasn’t as out of the blue as it may
have seemed to Yoongi, but in his mind, it’d been a sort of game to him. A
dare.
You know what, Jungkook realised, he was going to have to blame Taehyung for
this one.
Noticing that the water was beginning to turn lukewarm, he sighed and shut it
off, deciding it was time to face the music.
 
“Want a grilled cheese, Kookie?” his mom greeted him with a smile once he came
into view. There was no way she knew anything, appeared bright and cheery,
ignorant to the previous nights’ events.
“Uh,” he said, “Sure, why not?”
“What about you, babe? Another one for you?”
Yoongi, on the other hand, suddenly seemed rather uncomfortable. He looked
hungover, even more so than his step son, and fatigued, too, like he’d been up
all night either worrying or taking care of the little problem Jungkook had-
“No, thanks,” he spoke up abruptly, snapping out of his train of thought, “I’m
going to head to the hardware store, actually. We need to seal up the garage
door from when someone chucked his football through it, still.”
This is where, if this were any other Saturday morning, Yoongi would have shot
him a typical Dad Look, one that was equal parts annoyed, unsurprised and
amused. Maybe he’d crack a mildly threatening joke, or ask Jungkook to help him
fix it.
This time, he was not spared a second glance, nor was there a drop of emotion
in his voice, flatter, deader than Jungkook had ever heard it. He’d never seen
Yoongi bursting at the seams with restraint.
What was he restraining himself from doing, though? Was it from yelling in
anger, or perhaps the opposite? Was it really too unrealistic for him to want
Jungkook, too?
“Yoongi, honey. Why don’t you just stay for a little? We haven’t had a meal as
a family in over a week,” his mom was beginning to sound concerned. Jungkook
shifted in the seat he’d taken at the head of the table. What if it was guilt
he was swallowing? What if he was going to come clean right here in front of
him? What if Jungkook had to watch his mother go into shock, then rage as he
assumed she would?
They gulped in unison at the word ‘family’. His mother, much to their luck,
paid it no mind.
“I uh, have a headache,” it was a poor excuse, but she remained unsuspicious of
the true issue.
“You drank too much last night,” she shook her head, “I told you that fifth
beer was a bad idea, Yoongi. You can’t drink like a college student at forty
one.”
“I know, I know,” he laid his head down on the table the second he caught
Jungkook’s eye, “That’s on me.”
The fact that he had not used a single word of endearment towards his wife was
something Jungkook certainly noticed.
“If you can hardly sit at the table, there’s no way you’re repairing the window
alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” he deadpanned, voice muffled, “It’s simple, I just wanna get it
out of the way before it gets too cold.”
“Well in that case, why don’t you help him, Kookie?”
This was where Yoongi would normally agree, give Jungkook a short but concise
lecture about taking responsibility for your actions.
Instead, he said, “He won’t know what he’s doing.”
“I’m trying here, honey,” she turned to Jungkook, “Did you keep your father up
too late last night? What time were you home?”
Jungkook took a pointed sip of juice, waiting for Yoongi to say something,
anything for or against him. He was quiet.
So Jungkook disguised his nervous gulp as a swallow, “I wasn’t late. I was home
around curfew.”
“Hmmph. Yoongi?
Jungkook’s heart stopped.
He didn’t lift his head from the table, “He’s telling the truth.”
And it began to beat again.
After his sandwich was delivered to his place, his mother circled around to
press a palm to the back of her husband's neck, “You don’t feel like you have a
fever, are you sure you’re just hungover?”
“Yes, Jiwoo, I am sure. I know my body,” finally, he snapped, sighing sharply
and shrugging away from her touch before getting up and heading out of the
kitchen. He didn’t look at either of them as he said, “I’m taking a walk. I
have my phone.”
“Alright, baby,” she called, “Keep me updated.”
Then, once he was gone, “God, what’s up his a-double-s, right?”
Jungkook just nodded weakly and announced he was suddenly no longer hungry.
 
“What do you mean he rejected you?” Taehyung had asked Monday as they ditched
Chemistry to burn a joint beneath the bleachers.
“Are you already stoned, Jesus,” Jungkook said bitterly. He inhaled and passed
it to his friend before saying, “He pushed me off an-”
“Pushed you off?” Tae raised his eyebrows, “Did you fucking jump him or what?”
“Take a hit, douche canoe, Coach Wethers does rounds in, like, ten minutes.”
“Oh the hell with her, bet you I could fuck her into letting us get away with
it.”
“First of all, gross. Second of all, I thought you were only into older dudes.
And finally, I got on my knees and started calling him daddy. Moaning and
shit,” he shrugged.
“Guess subtlety never has been your forte,” he scoffed, before taking a long
drag and shoving it back into Jungkook’s hands, “No wonder he freaked, dude,
you can’t just do that to an adult.”
“Well, you’re the one who told me to call him daddy?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “That’s right, I did. But like, ‘can I get you a glass of
water, daddy?’ or like, I don’t know, ‘can you pass the salt, daddy?’,” he
waved his arms frantically, nearly causing Jungkook to drop the weed. “You
can’t- he stared at your ass one time as far as we know, okay?”
This was a fair point. But was he really Jeon Jungkook if he admitted he’d been
dumb? Nope. “I was drunk, so shut the fuck up. But also, I’m pretty sure this
isn’t the first time.”
“You wanna-,” he coughed, “Wanna maybe like… elaborate?”
“Uh. He avoided my question when he asked if I had. In fact, he avoided a lot
of my questions. Also I got him really hard, dude. I think the pompom on the
ass of that thing sealed the deal.”
Taehyung just stared.
“What?”
“Sub Jungkook is such a weird fucking concept.”
“Not like you’re ever going to get it-”
“We hooked up last week, dude.”
“Yeah and I topped because you’re a gigantic fucking cockslut.”
“He won’t even look me in the eyes,” Jungkook turned his own up to the metal
underside of the bleachers, dirty and coated in doodles. He cleared his throat,
“I’m gonna call it off, dude. I like, feel… bad.”
“You have a conscience?”
“I guess I do.”
“Well, mildly anticlimactic, but A for effort.”
 
Things began to feel normal again on Thursday evening, though it was all in
all, short lived.
He’d asked Yoongi shyly that morning if he’d still get a ride home from
practice and he’d said yes, gaze not turning up from his newspaper. Jungkook
figured he’d take it.
But regardless, as time went on he began to feel worse and worse about the
whole thing. It was because he’d clearly been having trouble sleeping, grey
rings appearing around his sinking eyes. He heard him at night, up and down the
stairs to grab snacks and watch TV, do whatever it was he did down there.
Jungkook had to wonder why he’d taken it so seriously, especially when, in the
past six days, they’d barely addressed one another.
They used to at converse at least once a day. Jungkook liked Yoongi. And Yoongi
was supposed to like him, too.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Jungkook had just gotten into the car, but he already had whiplash, head slowly
turning to Yoongi, suspicious of his tone. “Hey… Yoongi. What’s, um. What’s
up?”
He shrugged, “Not much. Work gave me the day off so I had a chance to fix the
window and run a couple errands. How’d practice go?”
Maybe it hadn’t been Jungkook afterall. Maybe it wasn’t his fault, had been
work that had his step dad all strung out.
He tried to sound as aloof as he always did, “Fine. Coach said I could probably
get a scholarship if I can keep this up.”
Jungkook convinced himself it was his imagination that his voice faltered when
he said, “For college?”
“What else?”
His hand twitched on the steering wheel, almost as if he had considered
reaching out to pat him on the back, “Great news, kid. Bet you can’t wait to
get out of the house, huh?”
Was he? He only had around ten months left and he was gone, off to California,
or maybe Boston? He hadn’t wanted to stick around, had always wanted to get as
far away as he could manage, but as the time to actually apply drew closer, he
wasn’t all too sure. “Yeah. I guess.”
There was a beat of silence before Yoongi said, “I need to get gas, you mind
running in and grabbing some eggs and milk? Mom said I needed to pick some up.”
“Sure.”
Okay, so maybe things didn’t feel as normal as Jungkook wanted them to, but it
was a start.
 
A start that stopped the following Saturday.
Things had remained mildly uncomfortable throughout the day Friday, to no one’s
surprise, but Jungkook hadn’t been all that affected, had dipped out to Tae’s
after about fifteen minutes of awkward small talk between the three of them.
But before he’d left, Jungkook’s mom had stopped him, “Do you think dad’s
okay?”
He’d blinked. Opened and closed his mouth, “I think it’s just work, mom. I
don’t think you should worry about it.”
“You’re right. The day off yesterday did him well, didn’t it?”
He’d nodded.
“I want him to take some time off. If I mention it at dinner or something, can
you back me up? I’m starting to worry about him.”
Jungkook gave her a sympathetic nod like it wasn’t his fault, “Yeah. I noticed
he’s kinda… yeah. I’ll back you up.”
She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, “Love you, baby. Are you staying
the night at Tae’s?”
“I might,” he replied, “I’ll keep you updated.”
“Text Yoongi, I’m going to bed early tonight. Long week.”
 
Jungkook had ended up staying the night following the two of them throwing back
too much cheap alcohol and yacking it up in the driveway ten minutes before
curfew. But that was still much less embarrassing than the way he’d sat down
next to the puddle and gotten all emo about the potential of his home life
deteriorating right after. Tae had sat there awkwardly by his side with no clue
how to help.
Well, other than saying, “Sorry for suggesting it, I guess.”
“Whatever,” he’d slurred before changing the subject.
 
Jungkook spent the entire bike ride home the next afternoon wondering why
people said teenagers weren’t supposed to get hangovers. He certainly got them.
And bad.
So when he swung the door open and padded into the house, he was quiet, doing
his best not to worsen his already annoying headache. It was silent, he noted,
meaning that he was most likely alone for the day to nap and jerk off and watch
the Netflix.
His mother had book club in the city every Saturday afternoon and went out for
dinner with her friends after, meaning that, recently at least, he’d been able
to take the time to himself, maybe watch something with Yoongi if they ended up
in front of the television at the same time.
Though he somehow doubted that’d happen tonight.
He called out for him, voice still rather quiet, but got nothing in return.
So he stopped by the fridge, grabbing a can of soda to soothe his stomach
before making his way up the stairs.
It was only at the top did he hear him. What began as a snore turned into what
sounded an awful like a moan, which then died in his throat with an, ‘ah’.
Jungkook frowned, closed his eyes for a second and stepped closer.
There it was again. He’d moaned.
And Jungkook realised immediately that there was nothing he wanted to do more
than look, or one side of him did, at least. The other cursed at him for
thinking with his dick, told him not to do any further damage to their already
shaky relationship.
He stood stock still, at silent war with himself. Eventually, he made a
decision. He wouldn’t touch him, wouldn’t say anything at all, wouldn’t
approach him, either. He’d only sneak in for a second, just to find out what
his cock looked like, no doubt strained against the boxers he always wore to
bed. Maybe he'd take a peek at the expression he was wearing, too.
He held his breath and poked the door with his index finger. It was already
ajar and opened noiselessly to reveal his stepfather, flat on his back, fast
asleep.
He looked so focused, concentrated on whatever he was doing in his dream, and
even though Jungkook had told himself that standing by the door would be
enough, he was proven wrong when Yoongi stuttered out a soft, “Jun..”
He, for a moment, forgot how to breathe. Had he been about to say his name?
There was no way he could have been dreaming about him, was there?
He swallowed his nerves and took another step forward. He needed to hear it
more clearly, wanted to see what his name would sound like, slurred with
pleasure, only to fuel his own fantasies if nothing else.
Standing over Yoongi, he blinked once, twice, trying to get his hungover brain
to process the sight before him. He looked good like this, dollike, almost. Or
about as dollike as a forty year old man could be.
Would he say it again? Jungkook eyed his underwear, stained with precum from
where his length was pressed to the fabric. What if he just… sped things along
a little. Like, drew it out of him? He’d only do it lightly, nothing enough to
wake him up. No one would ever know, he told himself, it’d be his secret.
Unless it really was him that Yoongi was dreaming about.
In that case, well, maybe Jungkook would reconsider calling the operation off.
He bit his lip as he lowered himself onto his knees, letting his hand hover
over the other. He wanted to touch him, and badly, now that he was sitting here
seconds away from doing it. But then again, he thought back to that seminar
they’d held two years ago when there had been a rape on campus, wasn’t there
something about a lack of consent involved here?
His thoughts were interrupted by another moan.
Fuck it. God, just fuck it. He wanted it. And if Yoongi really was dreaming
about fucking him, or getting fucked by him (who was Jungkook to assume) it
must have meant he wanted him just as bad, no? He supposed this wasn’t the
strongest defence he’d ever come up with, but it was enough for his teenage
mind to take action.
He reached out tentatively towards him, freezing for a moment when the other’s
mouth dropped open and he sighed deeply. It was too hot for him to be able to
take it, he finalised, closing few inches between them and watching as his body
contracted at the sudden pressure.
Jungkook almost turned tail and ran at the reaction in fear he had actually
woken him up.
But no, “Agh… Jungkook.”
There it was. Proof. Proof that he did look at him that way, no longer saw just
a scrawny kid.
Now that he had gotten what he wanted, his conscience cut in, it was time to
bail. To return to his room and act like nothing was wrong, at least until he
could figure out how exactly he wanted to go about this.
It seemed that he hadn’t learned from the incident in the living room exactly
eight days ago today. He really was never satisfied by just ‘finding out’.
 
“Yo,” he said as he plopped down into the seat next to Taehyung at the library,
“What VS size do you think I am?”
He didn’t look up from the twerking video on his phone, “What in the name of
the good lord is a VS?”
Jungkook clapped his hand over the screen to get his attention, earning a dirty
look from the other, “Dude, focus. This is serious business.”
“Well, if you’d kindly tell me what exactly you’re referring to, maybe I’ll be
able to help you.”
“Victoria’s Secret. The underwear place.”
“Do I wanna know?” he asked, “Is this about Yoongi, because you were 100%
against taking it any further literally two days ago.”
“I know, I know, but there’s a change in plans.”
He cocked an eyebrow, amused expression on his face, “Alright, what happened
this time?”
“He’s been having wet dreams about me. Or, well, he’s had one at least. When I
came home Saturday I walked in him moaning and shit.”
“That’s great and everything, but you know you can have wet dreams about people
you don’t even like irl, right?”
“Stop using abbreviations in actual speech, fucktard-”
“You have a C in English?”
“Shut up. But yeah, uh, I don’t know man, like he hasn’t been sleeping for
shit, he looks tired as fuck all the time, I think he’s avoiding going to bed
because of them. Even my mom noticed.”
“Yeah,” he said, “Exactly, he’s been avoiding sleep, Kook. Why are you trying
to make the poor dude’s life even harder?”
“I thought you were on my side,” Jungkook frowned, accusing.
“Yeah, I fuckin’ am, man. You were literally such a mess the other night, it
was crazy. I’ve never seen you like that and if this doesn’t work out and
messes you up even more, then… I don’t know, dude. You should have seen
yourself.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” he pushed his phone across the table and crossed his arms, “Do you,
really?”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, “Don’t do this to me dude, just… trust me on this,
okay?”
Tae was quiet.
“Dude, seriously? Brocode?”
“Brocode does not entail helping your bro break his heart and ruin his fuckin’
family, dude.”
“Keep your voice down,” he hissed.
“Librarian ass bitch-”
“Okay, no,” Jungkook said, “Listen, first off, I think if Yoongi wanted to rat,
he’d have ratted last week. Secondly, mom’s never gonna find out, and lastly,
I’m leaving for college soon as hell, dude. I’m not going to ruin my family,
for fuckssake. Oh, and also, what the hell do you mean heartbroken?”
“I’m gonna disregard your bullshit justifications, and let you now that you’re
clearly in total denial if you think you’re gonna fuck him once and be able to
drop him.”
Jungkook shook his head in confusion.
“Do you not remember anything about Friday night, man? Like what you said?”
Jungkook took in a deep breath before pausing. Did he? The answer was no.
“Well, anyways, you clearly are super fucking attached to this guy, which in
all honesty makes this whole situation even weirder.”
Jungkook’s nostrils flared. He wanted to sock himself in the jaw. Of course he
overshared, the terrible liar he was when it came to Taehyung, “What do you
mean?”
“I don’t know. I was wasted, too and I also don’t know shit about psychology,
but… just trust me, alright?”
“Thanks for clearing that up,” he rolled his eyes. There was a beat of silence,
Taehyung clearly waiting for him to say something, “So are you helping me or
not?”
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, “You’re set on this, then? This is…
what you wanna do, whether I help you or not?”
“Yes.”
“I’m kinda starting to think It’s a dumb idea and you know I never, ever, ever
say that.”
Jungkook tapped his hand on the table impatiently, “Yes, Taehyung, I’m well
aware.”
“Fine,” he snapped, “Fine, dude, you’re probably a large considering they’re
for chicks, I guess.”
 
Jungkook’s package just so happened to arrive the very same night that his
mother found it best to confront her husband about his apparent issues. 
“Yoongi,” she put down her fork. He watched it sink into her pile of mashed
potatoes, “Jungkook and I have been talking a bit and we’ve been thinking you
need some rest.”
He swallowed his pot roast, “I- wait what?” he looked between them in
confusion, “Some… rest?”
“Yeah, honey, rest. You’ve just been so under the weather recently,” she
reached for her son’s hand to get his attention, “We’ve been worried about
you.”
“What did I… I mean-”
“Babe, come on, you look exhausted these days and I keep hearing you in and out
of bed all night. What’s going on? Is it work?”
Jungkook wondered what would happen if she knew he was trying to combat
inappropriate thoughts of her son.
“I…” suddenly, said pot roast was a lot more interesting than the topic at
hand, “Yeah, Jiwoo, it’s work. It’s the time of year that projects begin to
pile up and, well, it’s not just me, everyone is stressed.”
“I think you should take some time off, just a week or so, you know? To try and
rest up, relax,” she kicked Jungkook under the table.
“Y-yeah,” he cleared his throat, “Mom’s right, you seem really tired… dad.”
His mother gave him a reassuring smile. Yoongi cringed down at his plate.
“Jiwoo. Jungkook. Thank you for your concern, but I… think I’m fine-”
“Honey, take a look at yourself. Your eyes all sunken and you look so-”
“Thanks, babe,” he rolled his eyes.
“No, really. Jungkook agrees.”
He was quiet.
“Doesn’t he?”
Oh fuck, “Uh. Yeah.”
Yoongi didn’t say anything.
“Baby, I really think this is best for you. I’m worried, okay?” she paused,
almost as if something had just occurred to her, “And if you want more time to
yourself, I’m supposed to be leaving for a department get-away next week. I
wasn’t planning on going, but if it’ll give you some peace of mind, I’d be glad
to.”
“This whole thing really isn’t necessary. Like, really. I can handle it.”
“We’re just worried about you, Jungkook and I.”
There was his cue, “Yeah.”
Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, then reopened them, “If the two of you are
serious and aren’t going to leave me alone-”
Jiwoo stepped in, “We won’t”
“-then I guess I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?”
“It’ll be better this way. We’re your family, we love you, alright?”
He grunted noncommittally, shovelling potato into his mouth.
“We do,” she insisted, “I’m gonna call and tell them I changed my mind about
the retreat.”
“You really don’t need to-”
But she had already shot up out of her chair, leaving his pleas to fall on deaf
ears. Well, and Jungkook’s. He was more of a pawn, though, this they all knew.
“So, just you and me, huh?” Yoongi said after a moment of silence. His eye was
twitching, and he looked like he had more to say.
Jungkook did not want to pry. The last thing he planned to do was tip him off
to the surprise he was in for. No, he was going to act as if nothing was out of
place until his mother was out of the house and he could prance around in the
bubblegum pink cheeksters he had so recently purchased for himself.
He had had no idea about the company retreat, in fact, had had no idea that she
was planning to unknowingly enable him to… work on Yoongi. Break him down.
He was actually overjoyed, as shitty as it may have been to admit. Because,
yes, maybe what he was going to do was manipulative, but at the end of the day,
they’d both get exactly what they wanted, right? Each other. He’d just have to
bring Yoongi to terms with the idea.
“Yep,” he stood up, clearing his and his mother’s plate, “Just you and me,
daddy.”
The hitch in his breath told Jungkook that things wouldn't be all too hard.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Jungkook decides to take action and Yoongi probably wishes he was
     blind. Or totally straight. Or something.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
This was further proven when he felt a pair of eyes on what he could only hope
was his ass, “May I help you?”
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
It was Monday morning, probably too early, in all honesty, to be attacking
Yoongi the way he was, but Jungkook had spent the weekend stewing, waiting for
his mother to finally fucking leave so he could get on with it and seduce the
daylights out of her husband. Or whatever the saying was. He did have a time
frame, after all, that being college, and he’d decided that he wanted to get as
much in as he possibly could.
He figured it had something to do with wanting what he couldn’t have. He also
figured it was pretty fucked up of a logic, but oh well. The dick wants what it
wants, doesn’t it?
He feigned innocence at the other’s question, which he’d barked irritatedly.
“Uh, I walk around in my underwear all the time? Shouldn’t you be used to
this?”
He bent down to grab a plate out of the cupboard and the other groaned, “Oh my
fucking god. Jungkook, you know what I mean.”
He turned around, doe eyes batting cluelessly, “No, daddy, not sure I do?”
“Holy shit,” his eyes fell to his dick, which might as well have been straight…
out, considering the high visibility factor the mesh provided, then immediately
back up, “What if your mother was here?”
He ignored him, “I know you like pink on me.”
“At least put on a shirt.”
“Hmmmm, no,” he sniggered, propping himself up onto the counter, “I mean,
what’s the big deal? Not like you’ve never seen a dick before.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head up to the ceiling, “Listen. We have
a week alone, right? And it’s only been a few minutes. We can’t keep this up
for 7 whole days, Jungkook.”
“Can’t we?”
“I’ll call mom,” he threatened, but his voice was weak.
Jungkook hopped off the counter, “You really think I’d buy that? You ratting me
out? After Halloween? Because I know for a fact you like this, gives you
something to think about.”
He stepped back.
“I know you like ogling me, don’t you, daddy?”
“Jungkook, for the love of god.”
And he almost felt bad. Almost, he really did. Yoongi looked so pathetic like
this, inching backwards towards the sink like some sort of prey. He didn’t have
much farther to go before he was cornered.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, “I like it.”
Was it supposed to feel that good to say?
“No,” Yoongi whispered.
He took another step closer, “I want it.”
“Jungkook, please.”
Would he be lucky enough to elicit a hard-on from the other? He checked.
“What do we got here, daddy, huh?”
Yoongi froze, now cornered with nowhere to run.
“Daddy’s hard for his baby boy? Thinking about my costume from the other night,
huh? How good my ass looked?” he spun around, “I think these make it look even
better, though. Don’t you?”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he rasped, “Like, school?”
“Hm,” Jungkook looked at him, pouted as pretended to think, “I suppose I do.”
“Then?” he turned towards the sink, “I think you should leave.”
He almost laughed at the unconvincing rejection as he padded up behind him to
brush his lips against the nape of his neck, whispering. “Mmm, good idea. Sweet
dreams, Yoongi.”
The way he stopped breathing let Jungkook know that he knew exactly what he was
talking about.
 
Jungkook kinda had to regret acting like not only a hoe but also a douchebag
when his Homeroom teacher a scraggly old woman with “gnarly tree hands” in Kim
Taehyung’s own words, announced, “Report cards out today, everyone. You know
the rules, they need to be signed by Wednesday. And Principal Warren has
insisted I needlessly remind you not to try and falsify signatures as it is not
only illegal, but copies have been emailed to your legal guardians, meaning
they will see them regardless.”
Jungkook cursed under his breath when he finally gained the courage to peek at
his.
And Ms Ross, who was in the aisle across from him snarled, “No foul language in
my classroom, Mr Jeon.”
Taehyung leaned over, “You freaking over Advanced Algebra, or what?”
“What the fuck else?”
“Dude, it’s literally the easiest math-”
“Keep flaming me I’ll cut off your dick and grill it.”
“Grill it?” his friend cocked an eyebrow, “Never heard you say that before,
good one.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, eyes turning out the window. Yoongi was gonna fucking,
like, ground him or whatever. Or maybe he’d punish-
“...your grades, I just told you mine, come on.”
“Huh,” he cleared his throat, “What? I wasn’t listening.”
“I said, what did you get?”
“You said that before,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, and I had to ask again, because you’re a little bitch.”
“You first.”
“Fine,” Tae rolled his eyes, “I’ll keep repeating myself because I have nothing
better to do.”
He shrugged.
“B-,” he raised an eyebrow, “That’s better than last year.”
“How the fuck did you get a better math grade than I did,” Jungkook groaned,
“Mr fucking Lee slammed me with a C-. Who killed the Korean brotherhood?”
“You should start calling him hyung, maybe he’ll bump you up a letter.”
 
Casually calling his 55 year old, American born math teacher ‘hyung’ ended up
eliciting not some sort of comradery between the two, but instead a rather
unsurprised, “Nice try, Jeon.”
So much for that.
Jungkook was stood on his front porch, anxiously fumbling around for the manila
envelope in his bag. Might as well just rip the bandaid off, place the thing in
front of him, scurry upstairs to the safety of his room and lock the door. Or
maybe he’d leave it open, just to see.
He walked in, heartbeat all too loud to his own ears as he peered into the
living room, “Yoongi?”
A sigh came from the couch, “Jungkook, we have to talk about-”
“Uh,” he needed to think fast, “Here.”
He leaped for the coffee table and tossed it, didn’t even stay to watch it
slide pathetically to the floor. Instead, he yelled, “I need it signed by
Wednesday.”
“Good lord,” he faintly heard, not that he was listening, too busy trying to
decide whether or not to actually lock himself in.
He ultimately decided that doing so would be more trouble than it was worth in
the long term and sat down on his mattress in bitter acceptance.
But wait, hadn’t he wanted to discuss what had happened in the morning, too?
Maybe he should, in that case. A double confrontation was not what he needed
right now.
As if on queue, the knob rattled and his very weary stepfather entered holding
the printed paper in his hand.
“Really, Jungkook? A C-? After all we went through last year? You said you’d
start getting tutored by Namjoon or something if you weren’t doing well.”
Jungkook didn’t look him in the eye, “I suck at math, okay? And this is like,
my last year having to take it, so what’s the big deal?”
“You do know your core classes in freshman year include math, right?” he said,
looking almost as if he would have been amused if it weren’t for the situation.
Jungkook didn’t have the nerve to ask if he was serious.
“But really,” Yoongi said, “We went through this, and you know your mom said
she wanted to be kept up to date on your grades…,” he pulled his phone out of
his pocket.
“No,” Jungkook whined, “Dad, no, please.”
“So now I’m your dad, huh?” he shook his head, “You’re unbelievable.”
“Daddy-”
“Don’t,” his voice was sharp, “this is punishment for your behaviour both this
morning and on Halloween, Jungkook. You cannot act like this around me, it’s
inexcusable, not to mention immoral, and finally non-consensual. By law, I am
your father. I am married to your mother and for some reason, you have no shame
regarding that whatsoever, which I don’t fucking get.”
“No, please-”
“You need to understand that what you’re doing is wrong.”
“You just want me to stop because you’re insecure about your sexuality,”
Jungkook snapped, “You check me out, you get hard when I come onto you, you’re
just afraid.”
“I’m not having this conversation-”
“Why am I the one under fire when you clearly fucking want your stepson?”
Yoongi’s mouth snapped shut.
“You never have anything to say when I confront you, but expect answers when
you come to me.”
“Quiet,” he hissed, voice venomous enough to leave Jungkook frozen in place,
“I’m calling your mother about your grades right this fucking second and you’re
going to shut up and listen.”
The thirty seconds between his near-threat and Jungkook’s mom picking up the
phone were, in a word, torturous.
“Hello?” she finally said into the phone, chipper as ever.
“Jiwoo, darling,” they made passive aggressive eye contact as the words left
his mouth, “Jungkookie got his report card back.”
“Hm?” she paused, “Oh, his report card! One sec, lemme just duck out here….”
He heard shuffling through the line and wrung his hands together, anticipating
her response.
“Hun, please tell me he’s doing better in Math, I’m really worried about him
getting into a decent school next year, I really am.”
Jungkook closed his eyes and shuffled into the back corner of the mattress.
Yoongi shot him a pointed look and said into the receiver, “I’m sorry to break
it to you, babe, but uh…”
She groaned, “Just rip the band-aid off, please.”
“C”
“Oh my lord.”
“Minus.”
“Seriously?” she all but shrieked, “God… did he really…? Where is he? I need to
talk to him. Is he home?”
“Right here, hun,” he shoved the phone out and him.
Jungkook begrudgingly accepted it, “Hey… mom.”
“Jeon Jungkook,” she seethed, “What did we tell you about getting help if you
needed it? This is so unacceptable.”
“I know,” he grumbled.
“That’s not enough. I need an excuse,” Jesus, she really did a 180 when she was
pissed.
“I… uh… Namjoon was busy.”
“Jungkook, there is more than one tutor at Garfield,” she pointed out, “Yoongi,
what’s his participation grade, does it say?”
“A D,” he deadpanned, clearly undisturbed now that justice had been served.
Jiwoo, on the other hand, was losing her shit, “A D? A… Jungkook you are
grounded. And no. More. Parties. For the rest of this semester. I swear to god,
all you do is drink with your little buddies and fuck around. You need to start
taking your future a lot more seriously, young man. Are you listening?”
“Yes,” he grumbled, “I’ll talk to someone about, like, getting tutored, or
whatever.”
“Fi- no. No, Jungkook, you know what? I don’t trust you-”
“Mom it’s only first quarter-”
“Jungkook, do not talk over me. Is your father still there?”
Yoongi reopened his eyes, “Yep.”
“I don’t trust our son at school with his friends any longer, do you?”
He scratched the back of his head and looked at Jungkook, “No, I, uh… I suppose
I don’t.”
“I think you should tutor him instead, then.”
At this, he genuinely looked like he wanted to punch something, or someone,
most probably Jungkook.
He smirked at him, and mouthed, “Karma.”
“I don’t know honey, I-”
“Get me off speakerphone,” she demanded.
In an effort to stop Jungkook’s advances, Yoongi had made himself that much
more susceptible to them.
He clenched his fist and shook his head before doing so and saying, “Okay,
you’re off.”
What ensued was, from what Jungkook could tell, an outraged but fairly logical
rant his mother had put together regarding him and his academic shortcomings,
one which Yoongi seemed unable to argue against.
It ended with, “I know… I know, honey, you’re right… yep. Sorry for disturbing
you…. Yeah, yeah, we’ll start before you get back- fine. Fine, yes, tonight....
Alright, I love you, too. Have fun.”
There was a pregnant pause following his hanging up in which Jungkook sat, torn
between asking him what the fuck was about to go down and waiting for him to
announce it himself.
Eventually the latter happened, “Dinner’s at 7 and we’re getting this done with
right after.”
Jungkook groaned.
Which Yoongi didn’t acknowledge, instead pursing his lips almost as if he
wasn’t sure what he wanted to say before finally deciding to just spit it out,
“....Jungkook, I’m doing this because I love your mother, but you know yourself
that there’s only so much a man can take before he snaps.”
For once, he had no idea what to say, shocked by the directness of his words.
He left with a final, “Don’t be late,” looking not only irritated but mildly
distraught before his face turned from Jungkook’s and he retreated out the
door.
 
Dinner was lamb skewers and kimchi fried rice, and was it was pretty tense. On
the bright side, Yoongi always cooked actual Korean food for him whenever Jiwoo
wasn’t home, though tonight it was probably more for himself, a motivator to
push himself into the trap they both knew he was about to enter.
That being said, it was still fucking good.
They were silent, and he could hear his own chewing all too loud, but was
nervous to meet the other’s eye, start a conversation, because, god, did he not
seem in the mood to be fucked with. So Jungkook wouldn’t push him. Not tonight,
at least. He’d sit down, shut up and listen to Yoongi ramble on about whatever
the fuck was in his textbook for an hour or so and then call it a night, scheme
about how to take the operation further in the comfort of his own room.
“Bet you wish you hadn’t chosen to go into engineering right about now, don’t
ya?” he asked once he’d retrieved his backpack from his room and the table had
been cleared.
Luckily, he earned a small, amused smirk from the other, “You can say that
again.”
Jungkook leant down to grab his pencil case out of his backpack when Yoongi
spoke up again, “Kid, I don’t hate you. I just want you to know that.”
He reappeared from under the table to face him, “Good to know, I guess.”
“Yeah,” he nodded, eyeing his hands for a second. He looked like a shell, or at
least in this lighting he did, eyes weary and fatigued, skin sickly, “I think
you’re a good person that’s confused right now. But I get it, alright? I get
that being a teenager fucking sucks, trust me, I remember it painfully clearly.
That’s why I’m not… I’m not reacting as harshly as I maybe should be, you
know?”
Suddenly uncomfortable, Jungkook turned his own eyes down as well, “...Yeah.”
“I just… we need to think about the long-term, here. About our family, the
three of us as a unit. We need to consider the feelings of others and the
implications of our actions on those around us.”
He suddenly struggled to keep looking as sheepish as he had moments before,
because call him crazy but it sounded an awful lot like his use of ‘we’
implicated both of them. Jungkook had enough evidence to know he wasn’t
grasping at straws based on the combination of the dreams, inappropriate
behaviour and Yoongi’s apparent fear of the situation, but could this really be
him flat out saying he wanted it?
Jungkook’s mind flashed back to what he had said a few hours earlier before
leaving, “...there’s only so much a man can take before he snaps”. That
couldn’t…. Jungkook had been under the strong impression he had been referring
to exposing the whole thing to his mother, but what if what he meant by
snapping was the opposite? What if he meant snapping as in-
“Jungkook, are you still listening?”
He jumped a little, “I.. yeah.”
“Bottom line,” he continued, finally meeting his eyes, “Is that you may not be
able to see the situation for what it is right now. You just… you need to think
of your mom, alright?”
Though this was a reasonable request, Jungkook wasn’t all too sure it was
something at the forefront of his mind when all he could imagine when he closed
his eyes were Yoongi's hands travelling up and down his sides.
But he still said, “Alright. Let’s just… I just wanna get this over with.”
“And you think I don’t?”        
 
Jungkook didn’t bother to say much throughout the session. Of course he didn’t
considering Yoongi quickly found that focusing only on the day’s homework was
useless seeing as he had been paying exactly no attention since the start of
the year, leading Yoongi to have to reteach him almost two months of material.
When the dreaded worksheet had finally (finally) been completed it was nearing
10pm and the two of them were blinking back sleep.
Jungkook packed his things hastily, letting Yoongi watch him with his arms
crossed over his chest and a dead expression on his face.
“I hope to god you just listened to all of that,” he grunted.
“I took notes for a reason.”
A small nod, “Well in that case, good work.”
“See you in the morning,” was what he left him with, backpack slung over his
shoulder.
 
Except he saw him much sooner, maybe two or three hours later, when he was
presumed to be asleep.
Interesting would have been the first word that came to mind when the door
creaked open at about one, waking him from the light sleep he’d just fallen
into. He let an eye open, in panic for a moment before his brain registered the
familiar silhouette of the man before him.
But what the hell was he doing? Jungkook hadn’t known him to sleepwalk, and
besides that, the only times Yoongi ever checked on him were when he made too
much noise or had some incentive to sneak out his bedroom window.
Tonight, neither of those applied. Tonight, Jungkook had been exhausted. They
both knew that. And he’d been under the strong impression Yoongi he had been
tired, too. Maybe he’d just woken up.
“Jungkook?” he whispered into the room, but got no reply, the boy instead
choosing to momentarily close his eyes once more, just in case he’d felt his
gaze.
But instead of leaving, he stepped inwards, leading Jungkook to reopen them in
confusion. He was now towards the middle of the room, nothing more than a dark
figure with rather nervous posture.
He faintly wondered what the fuck was going on, if he didn’t have some sort of
weird sleep paralysis or something. Wait, didn’t that mean he wouldn’t be able
to move? He shifted onto his side slowly to confirm he didn’t, hopefully in a
way convincing enough for the other to think he was still out.
Yoongi, for a moment, stopped breathing, something he noticed in the absolute
silence of a room, but seemed to recover quickly when he heard no disgruntled
noise come from the bed.
He took another step in before his foot caught on something and he cursed under
his breath. Then, he stopped, took in a deep breath and, from what Jungkook
could tell, picked it up off the ground.
A car sped by, it’s headlights shining through his window, and for a split
second, his eyes registered a flash of pink mesh. Of fucking course.
He squinted into the darkness, praying for another car, just to try and get a
better idea of what he was trying to do with them. Was he going to throw them
away? Or maybe he’d keep them for himself.
There was a rustling from his location, one that would imply he was rubbing the
material between his fingers. Another car passed just as he jammed them into
his pocket, bathing him in light exact second guilt washed over his face.
Jungkook knew it was wrong, how sadistically satisfying it was to see him so
clearly tortured by his attraction that he’d been pushed past the point of
resistance. In a way, he might have expected such a reaction from the other,
though. He’d always tried to play a positive role in Jungkook’s life, had never
tried to replace his father, but done his best to be a positive figure, one to
look up to. So of course he felt like shit stooping as low as they both knew he
was.
Thing is, Jungkook didn’t fucking care. Jungkook, be it because of his hormones
or sense of recklessness, didn’t fucking care if he was ashamed, if he knew how
wrong it was and regretted it all. If he’d wanted him to see him as nothing but
a father figure that badly, maybe he shouldn’t have raised him like they were
the best of friends.  
Lost in thought, he hadn’t realised how close the other had gotten until he
felt the warmth radiating off his body and opened his eyes once more, only to
be faced with the straining bulge in his pants. He made no attempt to press it
into Jungkook’s face, but instead let his hand make its way down, running
lightly through his hair to tilt his head upwards, touch so gentle that, if he
hadn’t been aware he was there, would have been something he’d have chalked up
to imagination. He let him guide him, putty in his hands as he pressed a thumb
into his bottom lip to draw it open.
His breath caught in his throat and Jungkook could all but taste the want on
the tip of his tongue, silently willing him to take the final step and push it
in.
Eventually, he did, picking it up again ever so slightly to press down right in
the middle of his mouth. Jungkook closed around it, suckling to elicit a moan
from the other, one that died in his throat as he realised how loud he’d just
been.
But Jungkook ignored it completely, daring to swirl his tongue around it until
Yoongi was made to whisper his name in question once more at the enthusiasm.
Still he said nothing, continuing his feat until Taehyung texted him a meme or
something else surely fucking stupid to make Yoongi jumped back in shock,
nearly ripping his finger from his mouth.
He stood stock still in front of Jungkook for a moment until his mind
registered what had just happened and he cursed once more before he heard him
back away step by step, leaving the door open behind him as he fled.
Well, Jungkook thought before he rolled over and drifted off, interesting it
was.
 
“Seriously?” was the first thing Yoongi slurred at him the next morning, voice
husky from sleep and not the least bit suspicious after the previous night’s
events.
“What,” Jungkook turned around, leaning back on the counter, “You told me to
put on a shirt and I put on a shirt, dude.”
“Dude, Jungkook?”
“Daddy?”
“It’s,” he checked his watch, “Not even 7am.”
Jungkook would have liked to see the look on his lying face when he called him
out for the previous night’s events. He didn’t, though, well aware that if he
knew he’d been awake, he’d never try anything again, and that was not what he
wanted.
He just shrugged before turning back around to fetch a bowl from the cupboard,
“Okay.”
As his shirt rode up, the other hissed and said, “Daddy ? You’re wearing
women’s underwear with the word daddy printed on the back?”
“I’m trying to push a message, here,” he pointed out, “And they say, ‘yes,
daddy,’ actually, so…”
“Those are… you look like a-”
“Say it,” he smirked.
“You already know-”
“Yeah but say it to my face. Tell me I look like a whore.”
Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m not going to- Jungkook, just take them
off.”
“Your wish is my command,” he shrugged and set his bowl down with a clatter,
causing the other’s eyes to snap open just as his hands reached for the
waistband.
“Jeon Jungkook, I meant later, what the hell.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he went back to preparing his cereal, “You should probably be
a little more clear when you’re giving instructions, could have fooled me.”
“I know you know exactly what you’re doing,” he cut himself off with a yawn,
“And I’m, quite frankly too exhausted for your little games.”
“Then go back to sleep.”
“I need to go on a jog,” he countered, “Which you know I do every morning.”
Should he say it? Oh what the hell, “That’s what you get for such a late night,
I guess then isn’t it?”
Yoongi gulped, clearly unsure as to whether or not he’d been exposed. The words
themselves were fairly innocent after all.
So he continued, “Math really is a pain in the ass,” just to watch the other
relax before he spoke up once more, “Oh, and you wouldn’t have happened to see
those pink panties I had on yesterday, would you? I know you’re well aware
which ones I’m referring to.”
Yoongi’s voice sounded choked as ever when he stuttered out, “Can’t say I
have.”
 
“Dude,” Taehyung shoved him in the side, knocking him across the bleachers.
They’d decided to stay at school following practice since Jungkook was now
officially grounded, forcing them to share their daily joint in a rush before
Yoongi came to pick him up. “You’ve been quiet for literally, like,” he was
interrupted by a cough, “Three whole minutes.”
Jungkook, who had been pretty deep in thought, thank you very much, let out an
exasperated sigh, “Hit it, dickweed, that’s money you’re burning.”
“Says the asshole who just dropped like a hundred of his fucking savings on
women’s underwear.”
“It’s for the greater good,” he defended, snatching it back from Taehyung to
take a drag himself.
“Um, objection,” he raised his hand, “Fucking your family members is certainly
not something you do for the greater good, slut. What’d you get grounded for,
anyways? That’s why you’re out here brooding away, right?”
“He told mom about my math grade, like, ASAP-”
“Oh shit”
“Yeah, I know. Said it was punishment for my behaviour like I’m the bane of his
existence then flips a switch out of nowhere and keeps hinting that the only
reason he won’t do anything is because of her.”
“I mean, he has a solid point, dude.”
“Yeah, but I want it.”
His friend found it necessary to push him again, “I can’t believe you’re always
calling me the whiny bitch.”
“Well, you are,” Jungkook insisted, “It’s just annoying because we keep kind of
addressing it, but not really, and… dude, I don’t know. I think I have him in
the bag, but I just... he’s kinda on and off.”
“What exactly did your mom say about your grades by the way? Like when he
called?”
“Oh,” Jungkook smiled dopily after a moment, having finally processed the
other’s question, “Get this, mom told him to be my tutor.”
His friend burst out laughing, the effect of the drug turning the situation
from amusing to hysterical. Jungkook joined in, too.
“You’re cute when you’re high, ya know,” Tae said after they’d finally calmed
down.
“Woah, there,” Jungkook held out a hand and widened his slit eyes cartoonishly,
“Forgot to say no homo there, bro.”
His joke was ignored, “Wanna make out?”
“Yoongi’s gonna be here in a couple minutes, but yeah.”
 
“Jungkook, you stink,” was the first thing he heard when he got in the car,
“You’re supposed to be grounded, can you at least try and be subtle?”
Jungkook, as kiss drunk as he was stoned, just grunted, “Sorry,” before leaning
the seat back and putting his feet up.
“I hope to god those aren’t the socks you had practice in.”
He yawned, “No…”
“No, what?” he turned his head as they stopped to pull out onto the main road,
“Jesus Christ why do you look like you’ve just been in a tornad- what the hell
is on your neck?”
“My what?” Jungkook reached dumbly to touch it.
“No, you-,” Yoongi’s voice was tense, displeased, “Jungkook, other side… why
would I be able to see- fuck it. Just…”
“Oh,” his mind worked a mile a minute to come up with an excuse, but he
eventually blurted, “Hickie.”
“Hmph,” he sounded angry, all of a sudden, starkly different and much more
intimidating than his previous disappointment, “You know, you really shouldn’t-
”
“Well, you won’t do anything to help, will you?” Jungkook snapped lazily, “And
I’m a teenage boy, Yoongi. I can’t just… wait around for your indecisive ass
with your annoying as fuck mixed signals, alright?”
He sighed.
“You need to start being a lot more honest with yourself, my dude.”
“How many times have I-” then, he gave up, “Just sober up by dinner, will you?
We’re still doing your homework after.”
 
“I was thinking,” Yoongi started after he’d swallowed his bite of bulgogi,
“Maybe we should watch a movie, or some TV after we’re done studying. Whaddaya
say?”
He cocked an eyebrow, confused, “Huh. Didn’t think you were gonna say that, of
all things.”
“Why? We watch TV together all the time.”
“Yeah, we used to,” he shook his head, “And now we’re in the middle of a Colt
War-”
“Do you mean Cold War?”
“Probably.”
He let out a sigh before continuing, “I was too harsh in the car, today. I
just… I don’t know. I care about you, kid. I miss when we used to get along.”
“We really would be getting along if you know what I mean, if you just-”
“Jungkook, this is me trying to work around what’s going on right now.”
He took another bite of food. Yoongi had a good point, and the sentiment was
nice, after all, a peace offering of sorts.
Not that Jungkook planned on admitting it, but he sorta missed the way things
used to be, too, so he said, “You’re right. Let’s watch something, pops.”
“Pops?”
“God, what nickname do you not hate?”
 
It ended up being some gladiator movie on HBO, not that Jungkook really cared.
They sat in silence towards the middle of the couch like they always had, but
this time, things felt different. Not in a good or bad way, per say, but they
were both well aware that the once innocent nature of their relationship was
now permanently tainted by what they had both done.
Eventually, they were able to loosen up, enjoy the movie to the extent they
used to, and Jungkook realised just how much he missed the other’s snide
remarks at the plotholes and subpar special effects. It was easy to forget for
someone like him, who had a one track mind, that their relationship had existed
before all this, that there had been reasons the two of them did get along.
It was while he was having this revelation that a soft snore interrupted him
and he cocked his head, eyes flashing back to the TV. No, that was still on,
which only could mean one thing.
Yoongi was passed out next to him, knees spread and arms crossed tightly over
his chest. It was quite the sight to see, leading him to stand up to take a
picture of his slack jaw before something dawned on him.
It was entirely possible that he could be having a wet dream, right here and
now, especially since Jungkook had been right next to him when he fell asleep.
If that's how dreams worked, that is. He had chosen not to take AP Psych due to
the fact his bitchass homeroom teacher was teaching it, and she, to put it
briefly, did not like him.
He couldn’t help but note that her intuition appeared to be correct seeing as
he was sat there on the couch just waiting for his stepdad to pop a boner over
him.
That being said, he wasn’t about to try and do anything to instigate it. No,
he’d just give it some time, see if he started slurring out his name or
whatever and take it from there.
It took about fifteen minutes, and was a tragedy, really, because it appeared
that all attempts to actually reconcile, and do their best to work around
things had been squashed.
And hey, depending on how you spun it, it really could have been either of
their faults, not just Jungkook’s, which he convinced himself as he tried to
come up with a plan.
Would it really be so bad to, I don’t know, suck him off a little? If he
clearly wanted him, but only let things happen in his dreams, couldn’t Jungkook
just… manipulate that?
Alright, no, maybe putting it in his mouth was too sudden if Yoongi were to
actually wake up in the middle of everything and absolutely lose his shit. But
that being said, Jungkook at least wanted to see it outside of his pants. He
was already well acquainted with the outline of his cock from the events
covering the past few weeks, after all, the other seeming to pop boners almost
as much as Jungkook did. Talk about a midlife crisis. He wondered if maybe he’d
buy a red convertible after this, and like, join a golf club.
“Okay,” he whispered out loud, suddenly shaky as he unbuttoned his jeans and
slid the zipper down at a snail’s pace. He was wearing boxers, and Jungkook
paused, wondering whether it was a better idea to try and pull him from the
hole in its front or take the risk to tug them down completely.
He soon settled on the former, reminding himself that the other could naturally
wake up at any moment, and slipped his hand into the entrance to be greeted
with velvet skin.
He was hot to the touch, not fully hard but getting there, and when Jungkook
applied the lightest of pressure, he pulsed in his hand.
He pulled his cock through as carefully as he could manage, freezing when the
other frowned and mumbled something he couldn’t make out. It only took a moment
to realise he was still asleep, however, and Jungkook sighed in relief before
allowing himself to look. He appeared to be thicker around the middle from what
he could tell, and the vein on the bottom stood prominent, growing as he began
to slowly pump.
Yoongi’s legs twitched at this and his breathing deepened, mouth dropping
further open. Figuring that was a good sign, he slowly sped up, twisting his
wrist on the upstroke and thumbing over the head once the light from the TV
caught the droplet of precum sitting atop it. He wanted to suck it, he
lamented, and badly, saliva filling his mouth at the impulse, but ultimately
decided to repurpose it instead, spitting into his hand to ease the friction.
Which Yoongi appeared to love, finally letting out a slurred, “Jungkook,” as
his hands tightened into fists. He didn’t think his ego had ever been so
inflated, and admittedly, let it get the best of him, speeding up to cover more
area with each stroke.
Whether or not this ended up being a mistake was all subjective, seeing as the
sudden onslaught of pleasure finally proven itself too much and the other
gasped, eyes shooting open.
He looked down at his cock, still held tightly in Jungkook’s hand, then over to
Jungkook, who sat absolutely frozen, unsure of what to do.
To his surprise, Yoongi mumbled, “Thissis dream,” eyes still glazed from the
deep sleep he’d been in.
And quick as he’d always been, Jungkook smiled, easing up and soothing, “Of
course it is.”
He was then pulled into the other’s side, a jerky movement making him wonder if
he really wasn’t still asleep rather than just in denial. “Kiss my neck,” he
grumbled, “You know what I like, keep going.”
His fingers pressed tighter into Jungkook’s throat, probably to urge him on,
but the boy tensed when one of them made contact with the hickie.
It took a moment for the other to register this, but when he did, he turned his
head slowly to the side and straightened up, “Look at me.”
Had he finally woken up?
The answer was no. His lip curled when his eyes focused on it, “I fuckin’ hate
that thing. Fuckin’ hate it, you hear me? Made me so mad today, baby. Made
daddy so angry.”
Holy fucking shit. Jungkook tried his best not to exhibit visible surprise at
first, but soon felt smug, his assumptions finally proven.
“Sorry, daddy.”
Yoongi didn’t say anything for a moment, breathing laboured as he continued to
hold his grip on his throat. His eyes grew wide and he said, “You let someone
else touch you. That’s my job.”
So it looked like the elder had a whole fantasy world mapped out in his head.
Jungkook replied, “Why don’t you do something about it?”
He didn’t reply, opening his mouth for a moment, clearly in some sort of poorly
controlled rage before yanking him forward and replacing his hand with his
teeth to suck right over the already sore mark.
He hadn’t known what to expect, but it most certainly wasn’t anything this
aggressive. It only added to the pleasure, though, the satisfaction he got from
knowing exactly what effect he had over the other. His hands found his
shoulders to pull him closer, suddenly caught up, too stupid to remind himself
that Yoongi was only making the bruise that much worse and would most certainly
notice the difference in the morning.
He was busy moaning instead, free hand fumbling its way back down to his cock,
still hard and throbbing under his touch.
Yoongi’s grip on his neck faltered and he finally moved back, pressing an
uncharacteristically soft kiss over it to soothe him before inspecting his
work. Jungkook twitched when he touched it, his hot breath no longer fanning
over his skin to distract him from the pain.
“Good,” he said at the reaction, “Don’t fucking…,” he yawned, “Don’t fucking…
don’t forget.”
“Yes, daddy,” he breathed, in part, pleased.
“Does baby’s neck hurt or is he gonna suck daddy off?”
“Yeah,” he breathed, clambering off the couch and to his knees in an admittedly
clumsy fashion. He was rushing, nervous that this dream state wouldn’t last and
he’d be left so close to finally getting somewhere without…. Without what? What
was it that he wanted so badly from this?
He brushed it off, deciding he could do his soul searching once everything was
said and done and he could retire to his bed, flee the scene to put off the
potential confrontation for as long as possible.
It felt good, satisfying to be on his knees looking up at Yoongi, felt even
better when his palm found the back of his head to gently guide him down onto
him. Jungkook went as deep as he could manage, swallowing down more than
halfway until his gag reflex was hit, leading Yoongi to hiss and pull him back
to breathe, “So good for daddy, aren’t you?”
Was Jungkook… shy? Was he really flustered right now? Doing something he had
wanted so badly to do? He felt his cheeks heat up, unable to think of anything
but how powerful the other looked above him, the apex of control with his
fingers firm against his scalp. He felt so small compared to Yoongi, who he now
towered over after the summer’s growth spurt.
He loosened said grip, running his fingers through his hair, “Aren’t you,
baby?”
Jungkook’s eyes turned back down to the cock in his hands, slick with spit and
his heart sped up. He’d never really felt like this. So tiny, submissive,
because though he’d played this role before when he’d fucked around with the
guys he met online, it’d never felt like this, so overwhelming that he began to
feel his mood shift drastically. Jungkook realised that it had always been him
who had complete control. Well, until now, that is.  
“Yes daddy,” he finally replied, voice barely above a whisper.
He hummed, “Keep sucking, kitten.”
Jungkook reacted immediately, licking a stripe up from the base to twirl his
tongue around his head before swallowing down on it once more.
His other hand found Jungkook’s scalp, and he held it steady in both hands to
guide him up and down, finding a rhythm of his own to fuck gently up into the
other’s mouth.
“Takin’ it so g-good,” he managed once he began to near his orgasm, “Taking
daddy’s cock like a fucking pro, aren’t you, honey?”
Jungkook moaned around him at the praise, eyes turning upwards, only to hear
more of it from the other, “God, y-your eyes, Kook, I-”
He hallowed his cheeks.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ- gonna- gonna cum, baby. Wanna take it down your throat?
Can you deepthroat it for me, huh?”
He did his best to nod and tried to memorise the sounds of his throaty moans as
he pushed Jungkook’s head down to the base as slow as he could.
The second the head pressed into the back of his throat, he came and Jungkook
gagged in surprise, pulling back to receive the remaining two spurts on his
tongue. Yoongi’s grip on him relaxed, allowing him to pull back and leave
kitten licks around the tip until he winced in sensitivity.
When they made eye contact, the elder’s were no longer fogged over, but alert,
shocked, and his jaw was clenched, making it all too clear in Jungkook’s mind
that he was no longer asleep.
It was momentary, though, and he turned his head away, not bothering to watch
as his stepson pushed his softening cock back into his pants and cleaned up.
There was really only one way to go about this that would deflect blame off
both of them, Jungkook for instigating and Yoongi for responding so
enthusiastically in his half-conscious but relatively coherent state. They had
to pretend it never happened, like it really had been a dream, one that
Jungkook wasn’t there for.
He sighed down at Yoongi before turning to leave, the flinch in the other’s
brow telling him he was still trying his hardest to force himself back out,
repress it and mark it up to his imagination.
 
Jungkook felt weirdly empty after his shower, sat naked on his bed with his
phone opened to Snapchat, using his front camera to stare at the bite. It was
notably different now, and he wondered how the hell they were going to work
their way around this come morning when the other’s teeth had left clear, red
indents in his skin.
He’d gotten what he’d wanted, but it felt like… cheating. Like he’d taken the
easy route, had gotten the act itself to take place, but in a weirdly round
about way that lacked whatever it was he was really looking for. The only thing
was, he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was. What more could he have
wanted? Maybe acknowledgement? No. Or well, that was most certainly part of it,
he supposed, but it didn’t feel like the right answer.  
He fell asleep around two hours later, wondering at which point it was that
Yoongi woke up.
Chapter End Notes
     fuck it. double upload.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     Yoongi is very clearly going through a midlife crisis. A bad one. But
     in his defence, who on earth can resist Jeon Jungkook?
Chapter Notes
     thank you for all the support and positive comments :) i really
     appreciate them all !!!!!
     im thinking of making an AU collection and adding one-shots to this
     after im done with the 6 chapters. so like more excerpts from their
     relationship in the form of smut and stuff idk. i mean..... i have a
     thing for taegi threesomes after all.
     also im thinking of writing brothers vmin after this maybe? i really
     enjoy dealing with the morality and guilt of taboo situations for
     some reason lmao. and okay fine incest porn is hot. what do u want
     from me.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Nice underwear.”
“Oh, so you’re finally warming up to ‘em, huh?” Jungkook smirked.
“No,” Yoongi sighed, “It’s just that they don’t have some sort of repulsive
message on the back.”
He now knew for a fact that the last thing Yoongi thought of the term ‘daddy’,
was that it was disgusting. So he repressed another smile, fiddling with the
hem of his black cheeksters as he watched him pour his coffee.
“I’m also enjoying the turtleneck sweater, nice to see you with a reasonable
amount of skin covered. Other than your ass being out, of course, still can’t
say that’s what I wanna be greeted with first thing in the morning.”
“Oh, give me a break,” he rolled his eyes as he took the mug from his hand,
“It’s fucking cold, first of all, and second of all might I remind you that I’m
well aware how much you check me out.”
Suddenly, Yoongi was awkward, his eyes shooting upwards as they so often did
before he turned to the counter to grab his own drink. Facing away from
Jungkook, he asked, “What happened last night, anyways?”
“Oh,” Jungkook had rehearsed the story in his head a fair few times before
pulling himself out of bed to go face the music. He watched the other’s ears
slowly turn red, the only sign he could use to confirm that Yoongi had woken up
during. “Um. I’d say you fell asleep about 10:30 and you were snoring super
loud so I just shut everything off and went upstairs.”
When he turned back around, he looked relieved to an extent, but still
stressed, clearly doing his best to convince himself that the other was telling
the truth, regardless of his clear knowledge that he wasn’t.
It was quieter than usual, the bickering Jungkook had grown used to having
stopped for the time being. Yoongi kept looking at him, but never held his gaze
too long, eyes darting away as soon as they met. He could see the anxiety,
watched him eye the wool around his neck as if he was trying to see through it,
discern whether or not he had actually left the damage he thought he had.
He’d piece it together soon enough, though. Being a 17-year-old jock, Jungkook
did not have much in the way of scarves and turtlenecks.
“You’d better get going soon,” he spoke up after about ten minutes of tense,
but not entirely unbearable silence.
“Yeah,” Jungkook said quickly, “Yeah, I.. I just need my report card. To bring
in, like, signed.”
“Why don’t you go up and finish getting ready? I’ll do it for you right now.”
“Alright,” he brushed past him to put his mug in the sink, the way the other’s
breath hitched as he did not lost on him.
“Oh, and Jungkook?”
He turned around, “Yeah?”
“If you want a ride to school…”
“Oh,” he blinked, confused at the act of kindness despite the situation and
Yoongi’s otherwise awkward behaviour, “Yeah. Yeah, I would, thanks.”
 
“Okay,” Taehyung said very loudly during lunch, “Does anyone else think
Jungkook looks like a German dude named Claus who directs weird porn in that
gay ass sweater.”
Everyone at the table nodded and Jungkook rolled his eyes.
“The resting bitch face you got on doesn’t really help your case, man,” said
Namjoon through a bite of hotdog.
“Guys, I’m literally fucking Asian-”
“Not the point,” Jimin cut in, leaning over Taehyung to poke his chest, “The
point is where the fuck did  you  get a turtleneck, of all people. You actually
look… cultured.”
“ Someone  fucking gave me the hickie of a century for no reason whatsoever
yesterday and pissed the old man off.”
“Dude what the fuck, I’ve given you worse. Hell, Jimin’s given you worse, and
he didn’t say shit. Remember last year’s Christmas party?”
“Well, he was mad about that one actually, and so was my mom,  Jimin ,” he
narrowed his eyes at him, “But they decided to drop it in the Christmas
Spirit.”
“Christians are weird,” Namjoon pointed out, “Also, it’s weird all three of you
hook up literally all the time.”
“Yeah, you’re one to talk Mister I-Watch-Tentacle-Porn-In-Spanish-Class,” Tae
snapped.
“Well, f-first of all,” he stuttered in defence, “That was only one time-”
“Not true,” Jungkook sniggered, “I was sitting behind you last week.”
Namjoon waved him off, “At least I’m not gonna be part of your chlamydia party.
You know if one of you catches something, you’re all fucked right?”
His comment was ignored, Taehyung turning his attention back to Jungkook,
“Lemme see the hickie. I wanna know why Yoongi lost his shit over it.”
“No,” Jungkook shook his head, “We’re in the packed ass fuckin’ cafeteria,
asshole.”
“Come on.”
“Fuck off.”
“No,” he insisted, “Let me see it, it’s my work.”
“Why’s he talking like he’s god damn Peter Picasso.”
Namjoon snorted, “Jimin, his name was Pablo.”
Meanwhile, Jungkook was still being grilled, “Let me see it.”
“Fucking pervert.”
“Guys,” Tae said, “Jungkook is being suspicious, right?”
“For sure,” the other two said in unison.
“Yeah, what’s up, Kook?” he poked his side.
“You fucking idiot,” Jungkook hissed, glad that Jimin and Namjoon were now
caught up in their own conversation, “You  know  what’s up.”
His eyes widened as he registered it, “What the fuck happened.”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
“Oh my god, did he-”
Jungkook, frustrated as ever, finally gave up, “Fucking… oh my god, Taehyung.
Bathroom. Come on.”
“We’ll be back,” Tae called as they stood up, earning an unbothered grunt from
their friends.
As soon as the door closed behind them, Taehyung tugged the fabric down, eyes
widening, “Dude what the actual hell happened? Did he… I mean, did you like…
not want-”
“No, it’s. I don’t know. Things are,” he thought for a moment, “weird.”
“I don’t like this anymore,” Tae wrung his hands together, “I’m sorry dude,
really. Like, if I’d known he was gonna fr-”
“Okay, relax. It’s not bad, I liked it and everything.”
“Why do you look so depressed, then?” Tae countered, “You know you don’t need
to defend him, right?”
“I fucking know that, Taehyung and it’s not like that.”
“Are you two a thing then? Like are you messing around or whatever? I’m so
confused.”
The problem was, so was Jungkook. He debated with himself for a moment, or
tried to.
“Jungkook, I-”
He stuck a hand out to silence him. “Just… let me get my thoughts together,
okay?”
Tae was the only other person who knew about this and (arguably) wasn’t really
judging. And he needed to… he wasn’t sure what he needed other than a clearer
picture of what the fuck was going on, what could happen. Things at home were
tense one moment and fine the next and he was beginning to get whiplash, which
sucked for him seeing as it was only Wednesday. Which meant talking things out
with someone would probably help, if not only to voice out and clarify things
to himself.
How much information should he disclose, though? There was no good way to spin
this, and his friend was already beginning to grow uncomfortable.
“Okay,” he finally said, glad they were alone, “Okay, so we were watching a
movie together- Wait. Let me just say he was pissed about the hickie in the car
when he picked me up. But he just seemed more annoyed, and like petty, you
know?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, so then he apologised during dinner and suggested after we had our math
thing, we should watch a movie. But when we were watching it, he fell asleep
and started, you know. Like, he was having another wet dream.”
“Oh god,” Tae said, “Dude, while he was sleeping, really?”
Unable to defend himself, he snapped, “Do you want the story, or not?”
“Okay, okay,” he replied, “Sorry, just… continue.”
“Right, anyways, I started to jerk him off a little and he sorta woke up, but
not really.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, I googled sleep sex.”
“What?”
“Yeah. It’s got a more sciencey name but I forgot it” Jungkook nodded, “It’s a
thing, apparently, something to do with like stress, sleep deprivation and all.
Your eyes are open and you seem awake, but you’re like…”
“Not,” he finished for him.
“Yeah, not. And he was talking too, about how angry the hickie made him and
then he just… bit me.”
“But you liked it.”
Jungkook shrugged, a bit more comfortable as the other seemed to relax, “Yeah.”
“I mean, did you make him cum, or?”
He sighed, “I did.”
“And he never woke up?” the other frowned, “The whole time?”
“After he came… I mean, I think he remembers it. He looked,” he bit his lip,
“Different.”
“This morning?”
“Mildly awkward, but we’re both just kinda denying it even happened.”
“Oh,” Tae looked down, “Why do you look so down and out, then?”
Jungkook shook his head, “I don’t fucking know, man.”
 
He let the rest of the day pass without incident, afraid that if he tried to
instigate anything that Yoongi would snap, try and confront the growing issues
they clearly had. That being said, he didn’t have a whole lot of time until
Jiwoo returned home, leaving him in a rather tricky situation as his time frame
urged him to press on. He really thought it’d be easy. Or well, not easy, per
say, but at least doable.
“Wow, wardrobe makeover?” was what he was greeted with Thursday morning.
Taehyung had been nice enough to drive home during Chemistry the day before and
grab him another turtleneck or two to help hide the problem he had sitting
pretty much right in the middle of his neck. It was a little tight, and
objectively even fruitier than the other one in fit, but hey, beggars can’t be
choosers, can they?
“Can’t I embrace my intellectual side?” he joked, smoothing a hand down his
from, which, in his defence, looked pretty good. Either Yoongi was beginning to
build a tolerance to seeing him parade around like a porn star or turtlenecks
weren’t for him.
In Jungkook’s opinion, though, he was just a pretty good liar, given away by
the redness in his ears.
Still, he laughed lightly to himself as if Jungkook had told him some sort of
joke, “I don’t think wearing a skin tight turtleneck and maroon thong makes you
an intellectual, kid.”
“Ohhhh maroon,” he wiggled his brows, “Fancy word.”
“Maroon isn’t a-”
“Do you at least like ‘em?” he asked, devilish smile spreading across his face,
“I know pink’s your favourite, but…”
Ah, yes, there it was, the flustered reaction he’d grown used to. This one was
markedly less afraid but more embarrassed than it had ever been. Jungkook took
this as progress. He began to stutter and looked up at the ceiling, apples of
his cheeks flushing, a clear sign of the facade he’d had on quickly crumbling.
“Yeah,” he sighed, “That’s what I thought. Wanna see the back?”
“No,” Yoongi choked, then forced himself to calm down before adding, “Is that
really necessary?”
“Yeah, nice try,” he chuckled, “You think you’re a better liar than you
actually are, you know that?”
“Whatever,” he grumbled defeatedly, making no attempt to deny Jungkook’s
accusations. Progress was right. He wondered if Tuesday night had actually made
a difference, if Yoongi had chosen to give up on denying, had accepted his
exposure.
Funny thing is, Jungkook had known his true feelings all along.
 
“I have a lot of math homework today,” he announced once he got in the car
after practice, baked as ever and actively dreading today’s lesson.
“So you decided the best way to try and handle this situation was getting
stoned with Taehyung again?”
“Hey,” he defended, “At least I didn’t make out with him like last time. You
should really be thanking me.”
This, Yoongi decided to ignore. “I was thinking we get pizza for dinner
tonight. I really can’t be asked to make food.”
“Long day?” he teased, “Laying on the couch starting to tucker you out?”
“Must you be a little shit at every opportunity?” he snorted, smirk visible to
Jungkook out of the corner of his eye.
“Yes,” he said, “it’s a legal obligation.”
Yoongi sighed.
“I’m hungry right now.”
“That’s what marijuana does, Jungkook, you of all people should know.”
“Let’s get pizza now,” he pushed Yoongi’s arm, “I think my stomach, like... is
going to consume itself in the next ten minutes if we don’t eat.”
“You can’t wait an hour?”
Jungkook leaned even closer, pressing himself up against him to the best of his
ability with his seatbelt holding him in place, chin reaching out to rest on
the other’s shoulder. “Daddy,  please ?”
He froze, gulped, tried to shake him off. “I’m going to crash the car,
Jungkook, come  on .”
“Nice to know how strong an effect I got on you, daddy.”
“Fucking knock it off,” his words were harsh, but his tone lacked bite. He
flicked on his directional, “We’ll go get pizza, oh my god.”
 
Jungkook, who had used up all his energy seducing his stepfather on the way to
the restaurant, crashed when they reached, leaving him to stare blankly at the
table, giggling every now and then until the pizza came. Following that, he
proceeded to eye fuck the entire pie while scarfing down as many slices as he
could manage.
Yoongi stared at him the whole time, gaze more inquisitive than anything else,
looking, again, weirdly dollike for an older man.
“What?” Jungkook eventually barked, mouth full of pizza.
Yoongi shrugged, “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” he buried his face in his hands, “Why is
this happening?”
“Because I want it and so do you, except you’re too pussy to take the jump so
you’re making me push you.”
“For how high you are, that was surprisingly coherent.”
“Well it’s true,” he retorted, “I get there’s other shit in the mix, here, but
I’m leaving soon.”
“No,” he shook his head, “No, I mean why  me ? What is it with me that you
just… why are you so fixated on me?”
Jungkook thought for a moment, the answer to this confusing him even when he
was stone cold sober. “You’re hot.”
He rolled his eyes, probably in an attempt to distract Jungkook from the way he
blushed, “That can’t be all, Jungkook. You’re a teenage boy, you probably think
everyone is hot.”
“Why are you being so straightforward all of a sudden?” he countered, trying
his best to gather his thoughts.
“What’s the point in dancing around it anymore?”
“Fair,” he looked down, “But to answer your question… I don’t know. Like, why
it’s you. But I know it’s you.”
“Are you just doing it because you’re not supposed to?”
Was he? He shook his head. “I was on Halloween.”
He raised his eyebrows, “And now?”
“Listen,” he swallowed his food, “I don’t know, okay? I just know there’s
something here and it doesn’t need to be messy if we’re careful.”
“It already is messy,” he said, “Jungkook, this entire situation… this week has
been easier, don’t you realise? Things won’t keep up like this. Thanksgiving is
a week from today. Do you know how full the house will be? And not to mention
your… M-Jiwoo. She lives with us.”
“We’ll work around it.”
“Jungkook, this is such a bad fucking idea. This is an awful idea. There’s no
way you can look at what you’re trying to do in a positive light.”
“What  we’re  trying to do-”
“No,” he corrected, “I’m trying to stop you.”
“You’re doing a poor fucking job.”
“Aren’t you afraid of what your mom could say if she found out you were even
attempting to do any of the stuff you pull on me?”
“Do you really think we can’t hide it? Just for a few months until I go to
college? We’re not dumb.”
“Jungkook, you thought the Cold War was called the Colt War and you are a
senior in high school.”
“Different kinds of intelligence,” he defended sheepishly.
Yoongi clenched his jaw, opened his mouth, then closed it.
“Spit it out,” Jungkook said, “Since we’re finally being fucking open for
whatever reason, might as well.”
Yoongi looked like he was about to brush it off, change the subject, but he
finally blurted, “Do you really think we can just fuck around for a few months
and expect nothing to change?”
“Nothing to… change? I’m not gonna get pregnant?” he scoffed, the meaning of
the other’s words flying over his head.
“Just think about it, Jungkook. I do care about you, but I have an obligation
to be a husband to your mother, as well.”
Finally, he understood.
 
And how did teenage Jungkook cope with the revelation that he may or may not
just want sex from his stepdad? He ignored it, and looking back, dug himself
much, much deeper by doing just that.
“Might as well start on the homework now, no?” Yoongi asked, lighting a
cigarette as he got out of the silver CR-V.
“You smoke?”
“Only when I’m stressed the fuck out,” he snapped.
“Oh. Uh, sorry…,” then, “Can I have a puff?”
“Why do you have no shame, whatsoever?”
“Guess I don’t,” he said after thinking about it for a moment, “Is that a no?”
“Yes, it’s a  no , Jungkook, what?” he looked at him in disbelief, “Go… Go in
and get your books and stuff on the table. Take a piss, I don’t care. I just
need a minute.”
Jungkook stared at himself in the mirror after he used the bathroom, lost in
what was something sort of similar to wonder. Yoongi must have been awake for a
fair amount of what had happened Tuesday night, he figured, must have somehow
come to terms with it and decided to take a new approach to the situation. But
did this mean he was more open to it, or was he just trying to find a new way
to reason with him?
Jungkook being Jungkook figured it must have been the former, that he was
slowly warming up to the idea, that his hard work was beginning to pay off.
So what else was he to do but persevere, keep chipping away at his resolve
until he finally broke? He couldn’t have been all that far, now.
 
“Are you sober enough to actually work?” Yoongi asked once he reappeared.
“Pizza helped,” he grunted, plopping himself down in the chair next to him.
“But I wish it didn’t, because this will most surely suck ass.”
It was around an hour and two pages of problems in that Jungkook began to grow
distracted, though in all fairness, he wasn’t the one to blame. Yoongi’s voice
was even huskier after the cigarette he’d just had, and all he could
concentrate on was the heat radiating off his body.
He found his eyes trained on his hands, skimming over lines in his textbook,
and admired the prominence of the veins that rose from them, which promptly led
him to wonder what his fingers would taste like on his tongue. Ashy perhaps, or
maybe just of salt and paper from the page in front of him.
“...actually listen, Jungkook? I’m doing this out of the kindness of my own
heart.”
He blinked to attention, wiped his nose, “You’re doing it because you’re being
forced to.”
He grumbled something unintelligible, “Do you really wanna be up all night
working? Don’t you need to turn this in tomorrow?”
“Not like Lee expects it on time from  me  of all people.”
Jungkook wondered if it wasn’t worth trying to make a move. I mean, whether or
not it be a product of his own boredom, Yoongi was extra hot tonight, sitting
there in sweats and a fitted tee shirt.
Ah, fuck it, “I’m too far away.”
He narrowed his eyes, the widening of Jungkook’s not lost on him, “We’re
practically touching.”
He ignored him, “I’m too far away to be able to focus, let me sit on your lap.”
“Jungkook, no,” he gave him a disbelieving look, “Why the fuck-”
“Pleaseeeeee.”
“No, no, no, no,” Yoongi chanted, pushing his own chair back to escape the
dining room.
Unfortunately, Jungkook was faster, and took the opportunity to plant himself
in his lap and lean back.
“See?” he smirked at the feeling of Yoongi’s heart hammering against his back,
“Much better.”
“Jungkook,” Yoongi warned, “you know you can’t do this. Get off.”
“No, come on,” he fumbled back for his shoulder, patting it in a way that was
supposed to be comforting, “This is much better, I’m ready to listen now.”
“ Jungkook .”
“Seriously, I am! I promise I’ll listen if you let me stay.”
“I should call it quits on this whole thing,” he sighed, breath fanning out
onto the younger boy’s skin.
He closed his eyes, willing the goosebumps away, “The sooner we start working
again, the sooner we get this done. Don’t you wanna get this done?”
The elder’s voice sounded strained when he said, “This isn’t a good idea.”
He refused to budge, “Come on, run the quadratic formula by me one more time.
I’ll really listen this time.”
“Jesus, fuck. Fine, Jungkook, fine.”
It became very clear that Yoongi was trying his best to focus on what Jungkook
needed to learn, shifting awkwardly beneath him and talking too fast as if he
were afraid.
It didn’t take Jungkook long to realise what of.
“Can you get off and do your homework, please?” he finally asked once he’d been
through his daily quadratic formula rant, “Tell me you understand now, for the
love of god.”
“I think I’ll stay right here,” he replied, leaning forward to not only assess
the questions before him, but build some sort of friction in the other's pants.
Against his will, a groan escaped the back of his throat, and Jungkook threw
him a knowing look over his shoulder.
“I really think you should get off,” Yoongi choked.
“On the contrary,” he turned back around, putting his pencil to paper, “I think
this is exactly where we both want me.”
“When did you get so heavy?” he lamented, trying his best to shimmy out from
under Jungkook, though his efforts only caused his bulge to grow between them.
“Jungkook, please, I think you really should-  fuck .”
“What?” he asked innocently, having begun to rock gently back and forth into
him, “Think I should what, daddy?”
“Not this again,” but he didn’t sound pissed off. A little ashamed, yes, but
nowhere near angry.
He got bolder, began to move his hips in circles, leading the other to, in a
panic, grab him by the waist to try and still him. To the older man’s demise,
however, all the pressure of his dull fingernails digging into his waist really
did was make Jungkook moan.
“Of course you’re a fucking masochist,” he sighed, making no effort to shake
him when he laid his own hands over his, “Jungkook, you really need to get
off.”
“Not what you dick’s telling me, daddy. Like, fuck, you’re hard, and it
happened so fast, too. Like my ass that much?”
“Can you just concentrate?” he asked shakily, hold on Jungkook tightening as if
he were in the midst of some kind moral dilemma, unable to decide on whether to
resort to physical force to remove him or let him do his thing.
Things had never progressed this far, at least not while Yoongi was awake, and
Jungkook was exhilarated, felt almost as good as the man underneath him, the
way his jeans rubbed against his own cock making it all the better.
“Okay,” he shrugged, looking over his shoulder for a second before getting back
to work, all while continuing his ministrations.
“God, what are you trying to do?”
“You know what they say, scratch my back and I'll scratch yours.”
Yoongi’s grip began to loosen, a sign that the situation had been accepted by
him, that he had decided to let it happen. Finally. Jungkook couldn’t believe
it. Still, Yoongi tried to play it cool, asking, “And what part of this is
scratching mine, again?”
“Oh, please. You really don’t think I can’t feel it literally throbbing? You
love this, daddy, don’t you? Feels so  dirty .”
Yoongi tensed beneath him.
“No, no, it’s good. It’s so fucking good, cock feels amazing through your
pants. Wish it was inside me daddy, I’d swallow it up real good, haven’t been
fucked in so long. Bet I’d be super tight, I’d  suffocate  you.”
A choked, “Mmph,” left the other’s throat.
“Yeah?” Jungkook continued, the prospect of actually getting work done totally
forgotten. “Daddy wants to fuck his baby boy? Fuck, you’re so big, want you
too, daddy, want your cock more than anything.”
“Jungkook,” for the first time, Yoongi had abandoned his reservations, had let
out what was a clear and shameless moan.
“What if I dressed up in lace for you, huh?” he continued, “Or the bunny
costume, the one from Halloween. Do you think about that ever, daddy?”
“Y-yes, fuck. Yeah.”
“If I wore that tomorrow night, would you take it off me? Let me sit on your
cock instead of just grinding on it? Wouldn’t that be so hot, daddy? Fucking me
through my lesson? You could bend me over the table. Would you like that?”
“Holy shit.”
“Is that a yes, huh? Gonna come back for more now that you know how good it
feels? Or do I need to keep convincing you?”
“Gotta- gotta keep convincing,” he managed, voice hoarse and breathing
laboured.
“Really in a spot to be talking back to me, Yoongi?” Jungkook snapped, dragging
his hips back harder.
His grip on him tightened once more, but all he said was, “Didn’t you say that
if I let you do this, you’d work?”
“Guess you’re right,” he leaned forward once more, the angle putting, much
sharper pressure on the other.
Soon, though, much to Jungkook’s surprise, Yoongi leaned in to bury his face in
the back of his turtleneck and canted his hips up, “Can’t believe I’m fuck- I’m
fucking doing this, fucking hell.”
“But you like it,” Jungkook sniggered, pushing back. They fit so nicely
together, and it was something he wouldn’t have expected, his own frame large
and bulky in comparison to Yoongi’s.
Suddenly, he was no longer hard, and Jungkook was being pulled back to lean
against his chest while he heaved in attempt to catch his breath.
“Did you cum?” he whispered, allowing himself to fall into the touch and bring
his arms tighter around his waist.
Yoongi didn’t talk for a second, whether it was to get his brain working once
more or come to terms with his actions, Jungkook wasn’t all too sure.
Eventually, though, he said, “I- Jungkook this was a mistake.”
Why his did gut clench? He shouldn’t have felt sadness, but a swell of pride.
“It wasn’t,” he defended, glad that at least the other made no attempt to push
him off.
“Yes, it was.”
“Call it what you want, it’ll happen again.”
Another minute ticked by in silence, “I really hope you're not right.”
 
Jungkook awoke at what he would later figure out was three am with Yoongi in
his room once more. This time he’d actually been out, had slept through him
padding across his carpet, even missed the bed sinking next to him, only to
wake to the pressure of fingertips skimming over the bite and a husky voice
saying, “...I wasn’t strong enough.”
Naturally, this terrified him, and his mouth opened in a silent scream before
he registered the familiar sight of the man before him and the smell of his
cologne.
He shot up from the bed, all but falling off before turning to leave.
But Jungkook said, “No,” scrambling behind him to grab at his hand.
Yoongi froze for a moment before his shoulders sagged in defeat and he turned
around, “Tuesday night happened, didn’t it.” It didn’t come out as a question
but more of a grim statement that expected only affirmation in response.
Jungkook tugged him forward, “Yeah, but it was fucking- It was good. I mean, I
wish you hadn’t been mostly asleep, but…”
He let himself be turned back towards the other, but didn’t budge further,
“During… did I say anything… weird?”
“The daddy thing-?”
He covered his face with the hand not in Jungkook’s grasp, the other beginning
to sweat against his, “Oh god.”
“It’s okay,” Jungkook soothed, “I wanted it so bad, I liked it. You know, I
think the daddy thing is hot-”
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have, you know,  done that . It was wrong.”
“You were asleep. It was me,” he insisted, “It’s  okay , Yoongi.”
“It’s not-”
“Just lie down with me. Please?” he gave another tug on his hand and this time
he allowed himself to be dragged forward into bed. “Here, get under the covers-
”
“Jungkook, I did not come in here to cuddle with you, I came in here to figure
out whether or not what I think happened actually happened because you keep
wearing turtlenecks.”
“It’s not cuddling,” he snapped, awkwardly trying to throw the covers over him
to initiate just that.
Once he had, Yoongi snorted, “Throwing yourself on top of me isn’t cuddling,
huh?”
He tightened his leg over his waist. “I’m just- yawn- Trapping you here.”
Which earned a chuckle in return, “And for what reason, might I ask?”
“Because I’m gonna seduce you.”
“Your eyes are basically shut, kiddo, you might fall asleep before you can.”
“I know you came in… was it Monday? Took my underwear, put your fingers in my
mouth-”
“Oh god,” he interrupted, “It was only one finger a-and. And Jungkook, I- you
said you weren’t awake and I-”
“I know. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to know what you were gonna do.
You’re rarely ever honest with me.”
Slowly, awkwardly, Yoongi’s arms came to encircle him and the younger spoke up
once more, “See? Feels nice.”
“I know that cuddling feels nice, Jungkook,” he could practically hear the eye-
roll. “But seriously, you don’t mind… any of this?”
“Are you dumb?” he yawned again, “I clearly don't. Aren’t you supposed to be
smart? You’re, like, an engineer.”
“Different kinds of intelligence.”
“I see how it is, using my own line against me, huh?”
“The Colt War thing was unforgettable,” he admitted.
“Tell me this doesn’t feel good to you.”
Yoongi sighed, “That’s a little inappropriate to admit, isn’t it?”
“Why are you being like this? Tuesday night, tonight, Halloween, every morning
in the kitchen… you’re in my room right now, in the middle of the night, I have
a mark-”
“Jungkook,” he interrupted, voice strained.
“No,” he insisted, “No, I just. What’s the fucking point pretending like this
is still a secret? It’s so out in the open, it’s fucking clear as day. Why
won’t you just be honest with both of us? I.. I want this, Yoongi. I want it
really bad and so do you and we don’t have the time to run around each other
like this anymore-”
“I can’t because it’s wrong,” he interrupted, “It’s bad, Jungkook, and you’ll
see once you’re my age that keeping this situation under control is my
responsibility.”
“Give in, Yoongi,  please .”
“It’s not that easy. There’s a lot involved here.”
“What if we were the same age, and mom wasn’t in the picture. Would we be
together?”
Yoongi was silent.
“Just give me this, please.”
“Yeah,” he admitted, “I would want to be, yes.”
“We can pretend.”
“We can’t  pretend , Jungkook, we live with her and I still need to act like
your dad.”
“Kinky non-sexual roleplay.”
“Oh my god.”
“We have this weekend, before she gets back, we have a window-”
“Jungkook, I’m serious.”
“If you were really so against it you wouldn’t be holding me this tight.”
He just grunted, but made no move to loosen his grip.
“Sleep on it,” he said, “Wake up next to me tomorrow morning, see how you feel.
Don’t rule it out. You know this… fight of whatever you’re putting up is
useless.”
“I know,” was the last thing Jungkook remembered hearing before sleep pulled
him back under.
 
The only other person Jungkook had ever woken next to was Taehyung, who took up
most of the bed, very often laying spread eagle on his back while he snored
away.
Which is why he was so disoriented when his eyes opened a solid fifteen minutes
before his alarm went off to a heavy warmth wrapped around his back. He tried
to shift, but soon found it was near impossible, the hot blanket above him
almost as heavy as a grown man.
He frowned, a grown… man. Fuck. He looked down, only to see a pair of hands he
distinctly recognised as Yoongi’s wrapped around his waist.
He dug through his brain to figure out how he’d ended up spooning his extremely
reluctant stepdad before the memory came back to him, and he smiled, pushing
back against him.
Yoongi really didn’t feel all that much smaller when they were like this,
pressed close enough to appear a singular human blob to any potential
onlookers. Except there were none, they had the house all to themselves, and
for a moment, Jungkook was swept away by the alien sensation of domestic bliss.
This, as odd as it may have sounded coming from him of all people, felt like it
was meant to be, like he belonged here, like he was home. How fucked up was
that? He pushed the negative thoughts back, wondering how much more it would
take Yoongi to finally give in, because, god, he wished he felt this pleasant
every morning at 6am.
There was a voice in the back of his head telling him to start grinding, to see
if he couldn’t try and start the day with a little morning sex, but something
he couldn’t quite put a finger on urged him to lay still. It told him instead
to take in his snores, his fingers, which were subconsciously brushing the
fabric of his shirt and the heartbeat he felt against his back.
He could probably die like this, right here and now and he wouldn’t have
minded, would have smiled up at the meteor right before it crashed through the
roof and smashed him like an ant.
Luckily, this did not happen. He got his fifteen minutes of peace before his
alarm went off, causing the man behind him to awaken, figure out what position
he was lying in, and immediately try to shimmy backwards.
Jungkook, however, stopped him, tightening the grip he had over his hands,
“Good Morning, dad.”
“Dad?” he muttered, voice thick with sleep, “Really?”
“Daddy?”
“Mmph.”
“Thought so.”
“Don’t you need to get up for school?”
“I mean,” Jungkook wiggled around in his arms to face him, “I could do that. Or
we could keep this going all weekend.”
He rolled his eyes, but Jungkook didn’t miss the small smile flash across his
face, however brief it was.
“Oh come on,” he said, “We only have the weekend and it’s back to living with
mom. I know you like this, admit it.”
“Liking something and wanting it are two different things,” he said vaguely,
clearly fighting to keep his eyes open. Jungkook, dare he say it, found it
cute.
“Okay, Confucius, I’m gonna take a wild shot in the dark and say you both like
it and want it. How about that?”
“I should really just leave,” he replied, but the threat was empty seeing as
he’d never been so comfortable around him, his dopey grin giving him away.
Jungkook was admittedly a little jealous of Jiwoo.
“Why don’t I just hit snooze and we do this for a couple more minutes until
you’re awake enough to go into denial again.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi yawned, surprisingly compliant, “You can miss homeroom, right?”
“If you drive me to school, I can.”
Yoongi slid down to settle on his chest and closed his eyes once more, “No more
than twenty minutes, though, okay?”
Jungkook pushed it to thirty. Hell, English class could wait.
Chapter End Notes
     also this was supposed to be fuckboy jk but then i made him all emo
     by accident.... whoops
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Yoongi gives in. At least for the time being.
Chapter Notes
     who is ready for just an onslaught of straight-up porn? yeah? okay
     cool
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“You can hang out with Taehyung, tonight, if you want,” Yoongi said awkwardly
when he arrived home later that evening.
“You know what?” Jungkook replied, dropping his bag in the doorway, “For once,
I’m gonna pass on that.”
He cleared his throat, “Wh-why?”
“Yoongi. You really think we’re just gonna give what happened this morning a
little cooling off period so we can go back to just ignoring everything?”
“I was tired,” he defended, “I wasn’t thinking straight, I got too
comfortable.”
“What about when you crawled into bed with me, huh? How tired were you then?”
“Very,” he turned his eyes back to the TV, “It was 3 am.”
“Why’d you come in, then?”
“I told you, it was to see if Tuesday happened.”
“Well, it did happen, as you now know, which leads me to ask what the big deal
is anymore?”
“The big deal is that you’re my stepson!” he threw his hands up, “How are you
not getting this?”
“Why are you so hot and cold?”
“I’m not hot and-”
“The last time I saw you, you were pulling me in and holding me, telling me to
be late for school so we could have an extra minute and here you are now on
this stupid fucking moral crusade which we all know is bullshit!”
“How the fuck is it bullshit?”
Jungkook pinched his nose, “It’s bullshit because you fucking love this,
Yoongi! You’re like obsessed with it, can’t escape it, clearly want it but
you’re being a coward and it’s affecting both of us.”
“When I married your mom, I made a vow-”
“Well, fuck the vow, then!” he yelled, “Look me in the eyes tell me there’s
absolutely nothing here. Do it.”
Yoongi clenched his jaw.
“Yeah. Yep, there we go, dad. How am I supposed to look up to you if all you do
is lie to the both of us, huh?”
“How are you supposed to look up to me if I fuck you at seventeen years old?”
he shot up from his chair, striding forwards to face him directly, “How is
this, in any way, a positive thing that we’re trying to do?”
“This morning felt good,” suddenly, Yoongi was too dominant for his liking,
made him feel small like he should have been defending himself as opposed to
the other way around, “You felt it, too. I know you did, and it sucks that you
just keep ignoring it.”
His words registered with both of them at the same time, and when their eyes
met he finally began to cry. What had happened to him? The Jeon Jungkook he
thought he was would never admit to something like this, much less cry in front
of anybody... well, other than Taehyung that one time.
“You’re hurting me,” he admitted out loud, and suddenly, it clicked, the empty
feeling he’d been carrying around with him, the unplaceable guilt and odd sense
of numbness that even his friends had begun to notice.
“Do you see what I mean, Jungkook?” Yoongi’s voice had softened, but remained
awkward, hand reaching weakly before dropping back to his side. “The deeper
into this we get, the messier things become. It’s not sustainable.”
He only started crying harder at that, “But- but you- Fuck, I’m so confused,
Yoongi, it fucking hurts.”
Finally, he deemed it appropriate to bring him into embrace and Jungkook fell
into the touch, shamelessly wiping his face his sweater.
To his luck, Yoongi accepted it, going as far as to rub up and down his back.
“Do you wanna sit down?”
“No,” he replied through hiccups, “Feels better here.”
“Okay,” he said, “Jungkook, this isn’t fun for me, either. And I know I don’t
stay true to my word, alright? I know what I’m doing is confusing.”
“Why can’t you just fucking pick a side,” he groaned, “You keep flip-flopping
and it’s messing with me so bad.”
“It’s hard, when you already want something… or someone, I guess would be the
word, and they're being dangled in front in front of your face,” he paused,
“Jungkook, I mean, when you sit on my lap and walk around wearing those
underwear- it’s my fault and I know it is, but I’m a weak fucking man.”
“I just want it so bad,” he hiccuped, “I have to have you, I have to.”
“I’m sorry. This whole thing... I’m sorry, Jungkook, that the situation is the
way it is and that it’s me you want.”
“Can you please give me this weekend?” he pleaded, “Just tonight through Monday
morning and when mom gets back, it’ll be over. For good, I promise.”
“That’s throwing away-”
“I’m fucking begging you, Yoongi.”
“Okay,” he sighed, “No sex, though, got it? And no- no kissing, I just… this
isn’t easy for me, either, kid.”
Was this what Jungkook wanted to hear? Not particularly, no, but he’d take what
he could get, give it his all and try his best to get Yoongi to stay.
 
Which is what put them on the couch in front of the TV, Jungkook tightly
clutching at Yoongi for reasons unknown. He didn’t know what he wanted to do
all of a sudden, when given the green light so point blank out of the blue.
So he’d just muttered, “Wanna watch something?” weakly once they’d broken away,
“I need to relax.”
The older man had ever so awkwardly slid an arm around his waist once they’d
sat down, clearly equally as unsure of how to go about the situation. Jungkook
couldn’t help it, kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye, catching
the red in his ears and cheeks and the way he was biting his lip. He had picked
that up from him, he thought to himself, only finding it in himself to look
away when Yoongi turned to face him.
“Now you’re shy?” he teased softly, “Come on, cheer up. Do you wanna watch
something else, something maybe a little happier than Law and Order?”
Jungkook grumbled under his breath.
Which led the other to sigh, lean back, or try to at least, his attempt blocked
by Jungkook chasing his side, “Okay. I was too mean earlier, wasn’t I?”
“No,” he reached over to fiddle with the hem of the other’s shirt, “You were
fine.”
“What’s wrong?”
Jungkook shook his head. What had happened was that he was realising, now that
they were in such close proximity, that he was in too deep at last. There was
no way to deny his feelings to himself, not when all he could think about was
how good the simple act of touching felt, and, in return, how fleeting it had
to be.
“Jungkook, come on, I’m trying to cheer you up. I can’t do that if you don’t
talk to me.”
“I don’t want mom to come home,” he admitted, “I want it to just be us.”
“She’s your mother.”
“She’s a cockblock.”
Yoongi’s chest rumbled behind him.
“Stop,” he whacked at his leg, “I’m fucking serious.”
“If anything, you’re cockblocking her, kid.”
Jungkook didn’t say anything.
“Does it make you feel better, though? The way we’re sitting?”
He nodded, “That’s the problem. I get to have this great thing and come Monday,
she’s just gonna take it away from me.”
“Come on, Kookie,” he buried his nose in his hair, “Don’t take it out on her.”
“Tell me I feel better.”
“Jungkook, that’s not fair.”
“To who?”
“To her.”
“At least tell me you like this,” he sulked, trying not to let his mood fall
even more.
Yoongi noticed, groaned, “Fine, Jungkook, you’re… it’s better. It feels nicer
sitting here with you, okay?”
Finally pleased, he let out a hum, twisting his body even closer.
“Did that help?” he asked.
“Helped me feel better, yeah. Can’t say it did all that much to get my mind off
things.”
“Things?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it right now,” Jungkook sighed, “I.. I’m sorry, I
just- it’s not you, this situation, it’s just not-”
“Everything you wanted,” he finished for him, “I get it, Kookie, alright? If
things were different, I’d have-”
“Yeah, but they’re not different. They’re stuck like this for the foreseeable
future.”
“You understand that neither of us are in a spot to make a commitment, though,
right?”
“I do. It fucking sucks, though.”
“Yeah. I-I’m not going to try and argue that, but you know what we can do?” his
heart rate had quickened against Jungkook’s back, and his voice had grown
breathier, a telltale sign of nervousness.
Jungkook perked up, turned around to blink up at him owlishly, “What?”
Hesitantly, a hand came to press into his thigh, sweaty through the thin
material of his khakis, “I’ve never… I mean, like. I could try and take your
mind off it, if you want to.”
Jungkook wasn’t sure exactly why the suggestion came as such a surprise to him,
but it did. This was what he’d been shooting for, hadn’t it? Wanting Yoongi to
initiate something with him for once. But it was different when it was actually
happening, felt uncomfortably intimate, the way their eyes locked. Jungkook was
tempted to kiss him.
However, the other had been kind enough to extend the offer for the weekend on
his own terms, and for once, Jungkook figured he’d settle, suck it up and deal
with the conditions because it was much, much better than getting nothing at
all.
So he just whispered, “Yeah,” watching Yoongi’s trembling hand slide slowly up
his leg.
He leaned into the elder’s neck and sighed once it finally came into contact
with the bulge in his pants, felt his breathing grow shallower at the feeling
of heat pooling low in his stomach.
“Okay?” Yoongi asked, “This fine?”
“Y-yeah,” he shifted forward to spread his legs a little farther apart and
said, “Wanna get closer.”
“Hm?” Yoongi paused for a second to comprehend what he meant before tightening
his arm around his waist and burying his face in his hair.
Jungkook, upon being palmed through two layers of clothing wondered whether
he’d ever had sex right. This alone had his stomach tightening, the feeling of
simple touch proving itself intoxicating. He let out a short moan, “More.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi asked, voice growing steadier, “Baby wants me to touch him?”
Jungkook’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he nodded in agreement.
This is what he’d been after, the pet names, the roleplay (if it could even be
labelled as such considering their, ahem, dynamic), the overwhelming dominance
the other exhibited with such ease.
“So bad, daddy, wanna feel you,” Jungkook let his own hands wander to the
buttons of Yoongi’s pants, but the other knocked him away.
“I have to get you back for Tuesday, don’t I?”
Holy shit.
“Okay, baby? I asked you a question, aren’t you gonna reply?”
Jungkook had been planning to, he really had, but the problem was that Yoongi’s
hands were now fiddling with his zipper and his voice had dropped an octave,
making his head spin.
“Can’t concentrate?” he took his hand away, smiling at the way Jungkook pouted,
“So cute, am I making you feel that good already?”
“Y-yeah.”
He raised an eyebrow, almost reprimanding.
“Yes, daddy.”
He kissed the crown of his head before returning to his task, “That’s better.”
Once his hands had finally made his way to his cock, Jungkook’s entire body
jerked and Yoongi laughed, unabashedly sadistic.
“So thirsty for my touch, aren’t you, baby?”
“Yeah,” he hiccuped, “Yeah, daddy, take it out, please, need more.”
Yoongi did nothing to change the way his was slowly pumping Jungkook under his
pants.
So he reached out for the waistband in a desperate attempt to speed things
along. Could you blame him? When this was all he’d been thinking about since
Halloween, the fantasy only growing all the more vivid after Tuesday night.
He was intercepted, however, in a flash, Yoongi’s hand flying to wrap around
his wrist and squeeze, “Don’t.”
“Please, I-”
“No,” he tutted, “No touching. Do I need to tie you up, baby? Huh?”
He bit his lip, thought for a moment, “Yes, daddy.”
“Yeah, that’s more like it,” he hummed, “Go ahead, take your shirt off for me.”
“Cold,” he muttered, embarrassed at how weak he felt.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
Jungkook would have run if Yoongi hadn’t been leading him so slowly, touch on
the small of his back barely there.
“Sit,” he ordered, eyes as soft as his voice was harsh. He got down on his
knees to slide the shirt up Jungkook’s torso, pausing to brush his thumbs over
his nipples and watch the goosebumps form across his skin. He kissed one so
gently that Jungkook nearly doubled over, leading the other to shoot him a
disappointed look.
“Gotta stay still, sweetheart.”
“Fuck.”
“Swearing already? We haven’t even gotten to the good part.”
Once it was off, he circled back and guided his wrists together, singing
absentmindedly under his breath as he bound them. After he’d finished, he
paused to admire his work, letting his hands play over the tensing muscles of
Jungkook’s shoulders, then down his back until a soft whine escaped his mouth.
He planted a kiss at the base of his neck, “What’s wrong, kitten?”
Jungkook wondered briefly if he hadn’t died and gone to heaven.
“Hm?”
“O-oh,” he cleared his throat, “I- Daddy, it hurts.”
“The shirt or your cock, baby?”
“C-cock.”
All he did was chuckle before he planted his lips back on his neck, dragging
them up below his ear before he asked, “Do you mind?”
“No, p-please.”
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t wean into it with little kisses that turned to open-
mouthed ones, but instead latched his teeth immediately into his skin to nibble
and pull.
“Agh,” Jungkook’s inability to hold onto anything for purchase left him over
sensitive, cock refusing to do much other than grow harder in his pants.
He broke away to inspect his work, pressing his finger into the pinkened flesh,
“Feel good, baby?”
“So good.”
“Gonna leave you one for each time you came home with a mark that wasn’t from
me.”
Jungkook, at this, was fairly sure he was about to faint, the idea proving
itself equally as arousing to him as it was frustrating. Still, he muttered a
weak, “Yes, please.”
Yoongi reached around to pinch his nipples between his fingers, roll them until
they had hardened and he was forced to squeeze his legs together in a last
ditch attempt to keep from coming in his pants.
He could feel Yoongi’s erection against his back, sliding ever so gently
between his bound wrists. “God, you’re a mess,” he groaned, having finally
covered the back of Jungkook’s neck to his liking. He moved to the side, “Gonna
lay down for daddy?”
Jungkook did, watched as Yoongi repositioned himself over him, resting the
weight of his bulge against Jungkook’s, who wished desperately that he would
finally start moving.
Sadly he didn’t, and he groaned in frustration, wiggling under him until
Yoongi’s hands found his hips to stop him. “Patience, baby. Isn’t this what you
wanted?”
“I need it now, though, daddy, please?”
“I’m not done,” was all he said, beginning to trail his lips down over his
collarbone before biting down once more, harder this time.
Jungkook squealed.
“Don’t see you talking back now, honey. What happened to the Jungkookie I’m
used to, the one that insists on getting what he wants?”
He didn’t know how to reply to what he figured was an accusation, afraid that
if he tried to defend himself, Yoongi would… what? God, he had no idea what to
expect, but in a way, he liked how excruciating, over the top it all was. After
the excessively intense build up, this felt appropriate.
He could feel himself beginning to slip into the subspace he’d always read
about online and finally began to understand it, the fuzzy, light feeling in
his head that he would have chalked up to some sort of weird high had he not
known what it was. It was odd, his mind having been overtaken in bliss while
his body was aching for any movement at all.
Each hickie was worse, or better depending on how you looked at it, a slow
escalation that finally left Jungkook crying out in a combination of pleasure
and pain each time his jaw locked into him. And you could see it, too, the
increase in damage, marks going from pinkish to purple to almost black, framed
by the blueprint of Yoongi’s teeth.
They grew softer, with a lot more tongue as he reached further down. Jungkook’s
cock was peeking from the waistband of his underwear, leaving a few warm drops
of precum gathered in his happy trail, ones that Yoongi happily licked off,
careful enough not to make contact with the head.
It was an angry red, and Jungkook found himself letting out a hoarse, “Please.”
“Feel that, baby? Feel how bad it hurts? Like you’re gonna cry?”
He hadn’t been aware of the tears leaking from his eyes until Yoongi pointed
them out and he turned his face in shame, wishing his hands were free to wipe
them away. He reached to kiss them off, mouth hovering over Jungkook’s for a
moment until he remembered the rules he’d set for both of them and backed down.
Jungkook nearly cried out, would have if Yoongi’s tongue wasn’t finally digging
into the head of his cock, “Feel that… powerlessness, Kookie?” he asked after
pulling away to tug his pants the rest of the way down and off, “Feels strange,
doesn’t it? Alien, like it shouldn’t have to be like this?”
He nodded down at him.
“That’s how you’ve been making me feel these past few months, powerless. Wanted
you so fuckin’ bad, Kookie. Wanted to rip your clothes off and fuck you until
you couldn’t walk.”
“Should’ve,” he breathed with what little energy he had left.
Yoongi took his cock in his hand and squeezed sharply, the sudden and much-
needed pressure causing Jungkook’s back to arch high off the bed. “Really in a
position to be acting up, baby?”
Yoongi, it appeared, was a total control freak and Jungkook loved it, knew
immediately that he was as obsessed with it as Yoongi appeared to be with his
sudden compliance.
This was further proven when he carried on to say, “God, just look at you, such
a mess for me. Tell me, does anyone else get to see you like this? The star
jock all tied up and crying to get his cute little cock sucked?”
Jungkook did not have the energy to argue that his dick was actually above
average, thank you very much, so instead, out of pure, unadulterated want, he
whined, “Only you, daddy, want you so bad, never felt like this about anyone
else.”
His words rang a little too true, felt too mutual for a three-day long
arrangement, and he knew Yoongi was well aware, gazes lingering on each other
for a bit too long before they remembered it was supposed to be mutual lust
they felt for each other, no more, no less. Oh, how fucked they really were.
“Good boy,” he said instead of addressing the elephant in the room, “Such a
good boy, all for daddy.”
“All for dad-” his words died in his throat the second Yoongi’s warm tongue
licked a stripe up from the base, then back down again, teasing the vein on the
underside
“You’re fucking hard,” had Jungkook not been so used to reading into his tone,
it would have come out cruel. But seeing as he was, he let himself smile just
at the rush of confidence masked in it.
He pressed a few more pecks to the head, letting him watch his lips grow slick
with precum before finally closing down around him.
Jungkook’s arms were straining against his back, trying to shake them loose in
an attempt to find something to hold onto for leverage other than what little
of the bedspread he could grasp.
“Feel good, kitten?” he cooed up at him after he’d sunk down to the base and
slid back up at a snail’s pace.
“W-want it faster,” he slurred, relaxing back against the bed.
“If you look me in the eye, I’ll give you whatever you want.”
Jungkook strained his neck to better his position and did as he was told,
trying not to break out in manic laughter at the sight before him.
And Yoongi was just as aroused, pupils blown, cheeks red and a glaze of sweat
over his brow. There was something about the sight of him working hard to
please, and the feeling of his tongue sliding up and down his length, wiggling
around the underside of that had his eyes filling with tears once more.
“Go ahead, baby,” he soothed, “Cry, let daddy see how good he makes you feel.”
His mouth quirked into a bittersweet smile as he pumped him, fixated on the way
his bottom lip trembled and his tongue darted out to lick at the saltiness as
his tears dripped over them.
He moaned out loud at the sight before him, said, “Jungkook, you have no
fucking clue just how pretty you look like this, baby, wanna eat you right up.”
Jungkook, flustered as he was, squeezed his eyes shut.
“No, baby, come on, lemme see.”
Jungkook shook his head.
“Don’t you want daddy to make you cum?”
That he did, so he slowly opened them.
“Good boy,” he said, dipping back down to swirl his tongue around the head once
more before beginning to bob his head at a drawn-out, but thankfully steady
pace, “God, Kook, taste fucking amazing.”
“Mmmph,” Jungkook could feel the heat beginning to pool low in his stomach and
his abs tightened, giving away to Yoongi that he was close.
Who stopped, squeezed the base, “Gonna cum, baby?”
“Mmmhmmm.”
“I don’t remember you asking for permission, or did I not hear you?”
“Holy shit,” he muttered, resisting the urge to lay back once more. He was
exhausted, fucked out and in dire need to just cum so he could get his fucking
hands free and pull Yoongi up, force him to hold him if he had to.
He only tightened his grip at that, “What’d you say?”
“I-I mean… Daddy, please, needa cum.”
“It’s only been a minute, though, kitten, wanna have you for longer.”
“Hurts,” he whimpered, “Please, daddy, I need it. We can- later... Just..
please.”
“Okay,” he kissed the dip in his hip, pulling away to leave a final nip at the
pinkened skin before attaching himself to Jungkook’s cock.
And he finished almost immediately, bucking up into Yoongi’s mouth with the
entirety of his body before collapsing back into the sheets, barely able to
catch his breath.
Yoongi gave him a moment before asking, “Are you okay?”
He tilted his head up, “You’re still hard.”
“Jungkook, you really think I wouldn’t be? After all that?”
“Want you to cum on me,” he rasped, leaning back against pillows and closing
his eyes.
He gulped so loudly that Jungkook couldn’t help but hear, crack a fatigued
smile, “Daddy, please? Been so good for you aren’t you gonna give me your cum?”
“Fuck,” he blinked, yanking down his pants urgently to pull his leaking member
from his pants, “Fuck, kitten, where you want it?”
“Mouth,” he replied, “Wanna hear how good I’ve been while you fuck my mouth.”
He was naked in front of him in seconds to prop him up better against the
headboard and before he knew it, he felt the head of his cock tickling his
bottom lip, “If you’re tired-”
He was cut off by Jungkook leaning forward to take it in his mouth and nod up
at him, a telltale sign to start moving. “Want me to untie you, baby?”
He shook his head and gave him an impatient look.
Thankfully, Yoongi gave in, clearly far blissed out himself to think too hard
about it and slid himself past Jungkook’s slack jaw. He was slow, but was
clearly holding himself back in an attempt not to hurt him, and as much as
Jungkook would have liked to say he didn’t need it, he was grateful, felt like
jelly and ached all over from the way his muscles had been straining since he’d
first stuck his hand down his pants.
He made no attempt to push past Jungkook’s gag reflex, stopping once he had to
mutter, “Daddy’s good boy.”
His hands found either side of his head, thumbs brushing over his protruding
cheekbones, “So perfect for me, never seen anyone look this pretty with a
mouthful of cock.”
Jungkook preened around him, the vibrations eliciting a moan from Yoongi,
“Yeah? Like it when daddy calls you pretty? Gonna put on your little Halloween
costume for me this weekend?”
Jungkook hummed.
“Shit. Fuck, Kook, wanted you to suck me off so bad that night,” he admitted,
eyes drooping shut before he forced them back open, “The pink silk,” he shook
his head. “One more beer and I’d have… god.”
“And those underwear,” he continued after catching his breath, “The- ugh- the
fucking maroon ones you wore- red on you, baby, so pretty. Makes your ass look
so p-pretty. Wanted to pull them to the side, fuck you right there. Bet you
would have liked that, huh? Showing up to school stuffed full of your stepdad’s
cum?”
He was obsessed with the praise, the way he was proving so boldly what Jungkook
already knew, felt his ego begin to inflate once more as he came down from his
own high. It wasn’t the most relaxing, the ache in his jaw, the suffocating
feeling of having his mouth filled, but he absolutely loved it, felt himself
melt into the sheets regardless.
And Yoongi was doing no better, reduced to nothing more than hoarse moans until
he stuttered, “I’m g-gonna…. Gonna cum on your tongue, baby.”
He didn’t wait for the other hum in agreement, just pulled back in the nick of
time to watch four thick ropes splash out against his tongue and lips, eyes
following the way some of it dripped down onto his bare chest.
Much to his surprise, Yoongi leaned down, licked a stripe from the cum making
its way down his skin up his neck before fitting itself into his mouth.
This was when Jungkook wished he was untied most because he wondered just how
long it would take for Yoongi to begin to come down from his orgasm, remember
the stupid no kissing rule.
It felt so good to him, sloppy as it was from either side, more just mindless
licking than anything else. But the thing was, it was still Yoongi’s mouth he
felt moving in tandem with his, his thin lips slick against Jungkook’s.
Almost as if he’d read his mind, he reached behind him to struggle with the t-
shirt, unable to find it in himself to lean away. Jungkook wondered if he too
was well aware that once he broke the kiss, it had to be over, something they
couldn’t talk about.
Once he was finally freed, Jungkook’s fingers raced to tangle themselves in his
hair, pull him down harder to make sure he stayed.
Yoongi guided him back down to plant himself on top of him, allowing the
younger boy to wrap his legs around his waist, stick himself as close as was
humanly possible. Neither of them seemed to mind the layer of sweat gathering
between them, nor the fact that they both tasted of the other’s cum and
continued until they were gasping for breath. Yoongi held his mouth against his
for a moment before pulling back, looking him in the eye and blushing, of all
things.
“Now who’s shy?” Jungkook giggled, though it was more of a rasp of exhaustion.
“You need to learn your place, kid,” he grumbled into his neck, exhausted.
There was a beat of silence, “Everything I did, none of it was…?”
“No,” he said automatically, “No, if my dick was hard right now, I’d probably
want to do it again.”
“How are you not exhausted?”
“Fine,” he sighed, let his shoulders sag, brushing absently though Yoongi’s
hair, “Maybe I am. Maybe you did a better job than I expected.”
“Did I, now?”
“Stop sounding smug, I just wanna cuddle and you’re ruining it.”
 
True to his word, Jungkook emerged the next morning around 11 fresh out of the
shower wearing the silk bodysuit that had landed him in this… mess? Situation?
He tried to push his ethical dilemma out of his head as he descended the
staircase.
He was a little more self-conscious in it than he had been last time,
considering that now, it wasn’t a costume or joke, but something purely for
Yoongi’s pleasure. And his, too, he supposed. He felt cute. Polished and
dainty, two adjectives he had not identified with possibly ever.
They’d woken up from their post-coital nap around 8 or 9 the previous night,
still sweaty and naked in Jungkook’s bed, and he’d had to coax the older man to
order the two of them pizza with a lazy handjob. Other than that, the night had
felt normal to Jungkook. Normal, like the way things were before Halloween,
just TV and food and comfortable silence save for the occasional snarky
comment. Well, except for the fact that this time, Yoongi let him sit in his
lap.
Jungkook couldn’t help but find it a little ironic, the fact that all it had
taken was giving in to the very thing Yoongi had resisted for things to be okay
again. In his mind, this served as proof. Proof that this didn’t just feel
right, but was right. This must have been the natural next step for them,
right? Otherwise, things wouldn’t feel like they were meant to be like this.
Yoongi was eating breakfast at the head of the table, newspaper held in front
of his face as he crunched on his toast. Jungkook had snuck in, wanting to take
the opportunity to surprise him, get a rise.
However, when he cleared his throat in the doorway, Yoongi just dropped it to
the table and shot him a rather knowing smile. “C’mere, kitten.”
It rolled off his tongue so naturally, already felt like commonplace and he
couldn’t find it in himself to feel the least bit negative about the lack of
over-the-top reaction. He kept his eyes trained on Yoongi as he licked his lips
and pushed his chair back, “Come sit in daddy’s lap.”
They both sighed at the warmth when the other’s arms curled around his waist,
pulling him against his chest. Jungkook slumped backwards to rest his head on
his shoulder, “What’s up?”
“Not the most seductive greeting.”
“You don’t seem to be in the seductive mood.”
“That’s not true,” he yawned, “I’m just relaxed. Satisfied.”
“Happy?”
“Yeah, happy, too,” he was rubbing slow circles into his side, “Hold up the
newspaper for me, will you?”
“Are you disabled suddenly?” but what was supposed to be a snarky comment
sounded flustered, the feel of both of his hands wrapped so snugly around his
waist distracting. He held it up anyway, leaning into Yoongi when he rested his
head on his shoulder.
He pressed a kiss to his exposed collarbone, hands finally travelling lower
until one was tracing his upper thigh and the other was sitting on his hip,
fingers applying pressure that Jungkook knew would soon turn bruising if he
didn’t stop it.
He began to move up and down his neck, tongue darting out to press against last
night’s hickies and Jungkook actually whined at the simple touch. He felt his
ears heating up in embarrassment, but Yoongi kissed one before whispering,
“Calm down, baby, you’re so cute like this, wish I could see it more.”
He bit back a small smile and bared his neck to the other once more, urging him
to continue. Which Yoongi did, and for quite a while, kissing the skin above
his collarbone almost as if it were his mouth. Jungkook’s eyes had rolled back
into his head and slowly, the newspaper was lowered and forgotten about.
Especially in light of the way the older man’s hand had moved inwards to
massage and grope at Jungkook’s inner thighs.
Meanwhile, the other hand had begun to drag it’s way up and down his side,
always just missing Jungkook’s nipples. He was twitching under his touch,
growing impatient, especially at the feeling of Yoongi’s cock sitting against
the crack of his ass, swelling and hardening by the second.
It must have been something that came with age, Jungkook figured, the patience,
the slow burn and escalation that he now recognised to be a constant in
Yoongi’s foreplay. Not that he minded. In fact, it drove his overly hormonal
ass up the wall, turned him into the submissive mess the other loved.
Jungkook’s own dick wanted friction so desperately, but on the other hand, he
yearned to be good for Yoongi, to give him what he wanted, take whatever he had
to offer in exchange for the praise he was so desperate to hear.
“Are you horny, kitten?” he cooed when Jungkook’s thighs began to tremble under
his touch, the skin growing ticklish as his fingers travelled closer to the hem
of his bodysuit. “Want daddy to touch you?”
“Mmmhmm,” he frowned, feeling this hair on his arms stand up at the other’s
words.
“I love how riled up you get,” he continued, hand moving back down his leg.
Jungkook whined in frustration.
“Just like that, yeah,” he sighed, “Make me feel so good, you know that? Such a
messy little boy aren’t you? Nice and sensitive?”
Out of nowhere, he finally cupped a large hand over Jungkook’s erection, making
him cry out and buck against the other’s touch.
“Good boy,” he soothed, “I know you want it, but you need to calm down for me,
okay? Wanna make it last.”
Jungkook knew he sure as hell would not at this rate, so he just said, “Please,
daddy?”
“Please, what, baby? Use your words, what do you want daddy to do to you? You
were so good to me yesterday, took my cock down your pretty throat so well,
god. Had you ever been tied up before, huh?”
“No,” he admitted, Yoongi’s tone making him feel inexperienced, self-conscious.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his own hips beginning to steadily grind up into him, “Did
you like it, kitten? Like being all tied up? At daddy’s mercy?”
“So much,” he admitted, “Felt so good, when you sucked me off, god I- oh.”
In time with his own rhythm, he began to palm Jungkook, pressure just right and
the other arched into him, moaning when he was yanked back down onto his cock.
“Shhh,” he soothed, “Calm down, honey, don’t need to be so desperate, do we? We
have all weekend, let’s just… let’s take it nice and slow.”
“I don’t wanna,” he complained, recognising the fact he sounded like a spoiled
child, “Just wanna touch you, wanna cum.”
He chuckled, “Okay, fine, you’ve been so good for the last fifteen minutes, we
can do what you want now. Where do you wanna go?”
Had it only been that long? It felt more like a lifetime, his cock beginning to
pain at the awkward angle he’d positioned it in when he’d gotten dressed.
“Upstairs?”
“Alright, baby,” he kissed his cheek, “Go ahead, lay down. Wait for me, okay?”
Once Jungkook had gotten to his room and flopped down on the bed, his
frustration began to increase. See, he knew better than to strip down and start
touching himself, but, fuck, he was desperate, hand literally twitching against
his stomach, aching to travel lower.
Which is why he jumped up and ran for the door when Yoongi finally appeared,
dragging him over to the bed and pushing him down only to crawl on top of him
and trap him in a makeshift hug.
“What took you so long?” he groaned, beginning to unapologetically grind down.
“I needed to piss, Christ. Why are you so h-horny?”
“Are you complaining-,” he began, but his words slowly died in his throat.
Yoongi’s eyes were fixed so intently on his mouth, tongue darting out to wet
them. Should he try? Was it worth the rejection, trying to kiss him? He didn’t
appear to be thinking of the rules he’d set the day before. Actually, he seemed
to be thinking of no more than kissing him, too.
Jungkook only leaned in when his eyes were met once more, not giving him a
chance to pull away before crushing his mouth to his.
Surely enough, Yoongi was a weak man, something that had been proven time and
time again over the course of the past month and kissed back immediately, just
as rushed and thirsty as his stepson, hands finding his waist again to pull him
down harder against him.
“Feels so right,” he groaned into his mouth and Jungkook could do no more than
grunt in agreement, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue in.
The way Yoongi harnessed some sort of unknown strength to flip them over proved
to Jungkook that the slow burn he seemed to enjoy was no more than a ploy, that
he was equally as needy, crazy for him as he was for the other. So he just
wrapped his legs around his waist and let Yoongi pin his hands above his head.
“You’re so pretty,” he rasped when he pulled away, “Such a mess, look at you.”
Jungkook preened, but made no objections. His lips were already swollen red,
skin covered in marks and his bodysuit had slid down, exposing his dusty pink
nipples, already pebbled and surrounded by goosebumps.
“Never wanna forget,” he slurred, eyes predatory as he leaned back and scanned
over his body, biting his lip before diving in to take a nipple into his mouth.
“Mmmph, daddy,” he felt his cock twitch, or try to under the restrictive
material.
He bit it before moving to the other, freeing his hands to slide his own down
to the top of the bodysuit. “Want me to take it off, baby?”
“Yes, please, daddy, want you to touch me so bad.”
He didn’t reply, but slid it down as slow as he could, leaning back again to
watch him, the impatience he knew was evident on his face, the way he jerked
when the soft fabric skimmed his ticklish sides.
“Oh, look at this,” he crooned once he’d reached the outline of his cock,
tracing his finger up the underside before circling over where the head was. He
pulled it away damp and held it to Jungkook’s bottom lip, watching him accept
it into his mouth, “Baby’s all wet, huh? Dripping for his daddy to touch him?”
Jungkook didn’t let go of his finger, sucking on it intently and nodding up at
him with big eyes.
“Want me to take it off?”
He nodded again, opening his mouth to allow him to continue to drag the garment
off him. He seemed fixated on his legs once he reached them, gripping instead
of skimming, taking a moment every now and then to massage at the muscle.
Somehow, he had regained his composure after the kiss.
This did not apply to Jungkook, who kept letting out little inadvertent squeaks
and pleas for the other to hurry, not that he actually did.
“Now, now,” he breathed as he stared down at Jungkook’s naked form, flushed and
sweaty on the bed. He ran his finger over the head of his cock once more,
chuckling at the sharp, “Agh,” leaving the other. “What to do with you?”
“Take off your pants,” Jungkook sat up, beginning to lean forward to reach of
the waistband and Yoongi did nothing to stop him, fingers finding his hair to
absentmindedly brush through it as he concentrated on getting them off. He
wasn’t wearing underwear and it did… something to Jungkook. What exactly, he
wasn’t sure, but he was suddenly able to push away his own pleasure that had
pained him seconds earlier to take it in his hand.
They made eye contact and Jungkook was compelled to lean forward as well, flick
his tongue out over him to taste the precum of the other, adding to the
saltiness already on his tongue.
“Such a good boy,” Yoongi tipped his head back, breath growing laboured,
“Cocktrained already? Know just what daddy wants.”
Jungkook smiled against his length, dragging his tongue up and down the sides
at a snail's pace before swirling it around the head once more.
“Wish you’d fuck me,” he said innocently up at him, free hand running up and
down his leg in an attempt to coax him into it, “Wish you’d stuff me full,
daddy, cum in my ass, make me hold it all day. Just wanna feel you.”
“Oh my god,” Yoongi’s jaw dropped open, “Me, too, baby. So perfect for me, wish
I could fuckin’... fucking wreck you so bad.”
“Please?” he sighed, letting his hot breath fan over the head. He licked off
another bead of precum.
At this, Yoongi’s hips jerked forward, pushing himself through Jungkook’s lips,
though he was able to take it with gusto, gripping the base and sliding further
down.
“W-Wish I could,” he managed, “Wann- fuck, Kook, wanna so bad, just... Bad
idea.”
Jungkook tried not to feel disappointed, but instead to focus on the weight of
him in his mouth and the dull ache that was returning to his own cock.
After a few minutes, Yoongi spoke up once more, “Pull off, baby. Daddy’s gonna-
wait pull off I gotta…”
Jungkook did, smirking at just how caught up in it all Yoongi had been, and
after such a short while, too. “What is it, daddy?” He coaxed, continuing to
jerk him off slowly, “You know I’ll do anything for you, love your cock so
fucking much.”
“Sit on my face,” he laid a hand on Jungkook’s wrist to stop him so he could
drop down onto his back, and pull him in the right direction, “Come sit on
daddy’s face.”
To this, Jungkook had no complaints, shuffling up and turning his back to
Yoongi to slowly lower himself down.
“Face me. I want you to face me.”
“I-,” for the first time in forever, Jungkook felt weird going against him,
like he wasn’t supposed to, but spoke up anyways, “I don’t wanna stop sucking
your cock.”
He moaned into him, loud and throaty when Jungkook didn’t wait to resume, the
new angle allowing him to take him deeper, begin to ease at his gag reflex.
Though easing didn’t work for long, the warmth of Yoongi’s tongue brushing over
his hole causing him to jerk forward and consequently, shove him down his
throat.
“Calm down,” Yoongi rasped, peeking his head to the side and moving his hand to
rub soothingly over his ass, “Be careful, baby, we got all day.”
Jungkook rested his head in the dip of Yoongi’s hip, allowing him not only to
regain his breath but grow used to the feeling of his tongue, licking slow,
steady stripes up his crack.
Once it began to circle his rim, he felt a hand on the small of his back,
urging him down once more so he wrapped his lips around the tip, humming as he
again did his best to swallow down deep as he could. This time, when his throat
contracted, Yoongi’s head dropped back and he cursed under his breath, “Want
daddy to finger you, too, bunny? Want me to rub you inside? Make you cum nice
and hard?”
“Yes, daddy,” he pulled away to say, “Make it feel like you’re fucking me with
your nice, big cock.”
“You’re so good,” he replied, and Jungkook could imagine the way his eyes were
rolling into the back of his head, whites glazed and hair matted against his
forehead, “So fucking perfect, baby.”
He cooed contentedly once before finally sliding down to the base.
“Just like that,” Yoongi groaned, a shaky finger pushing into him. There was
some resistance, but he was gentle, clearly experienced, and took his time to
open him up until he could slip the next one in.
Jungkook had known for a fact Yoongi’s hands were bigger, more masculine, yes,
but the difference was only fully recognised when he compared the feeling of
two of them within him to that of his own. It burned and he couldn’t help but
let out a muffled moan around his cock, bucking his hips backwards in an
attempt to embrace the stretch.
“D-does it hurt, kitten? Tell- shit- tell daddy if you want it slower.”
He shook his head around him.
“You sure?”
Finally, he pulled off, looking over his shoulder, just to let Yoongi see how
wrecked he was, “I like it so much, daddy, feels so big.”
“Good boy, taking daddy’s fingers so well,” he said, pleased.
And, hell, did Jungkook feel so oddly proud of himself, flushed an even deeper
red than he already was.
He began to drool onto Yoongi’s stomach when the elder curled his fingers
against his prostate, his moans growing higher in pitch and much closer
together.
“Y-yeah, let daddy see how messy you’re getting. Doing so, so good, baby. Want
my tongue, too?”
“God, yeah.”
Yoongi stopped altogether.  
“Yes, daddy.”
“Good boy,” he muttered offhandedly, refocusing his attention on Jungkook’s ass
and dipping in to swirl his tongue around his fingers. “Ready?”
“Y-yeah, please.”
The wet warmth was so nice to Jungkook and as he got back to work, he felt a
certain lightheadedness fall over him, cock curled tight and twitching against
his stomach.
“Close already, kitten?” he asked and Jungkook nodded quicker around him in
affirmation.
“Want me to touch you? Make you cum all over the both of us, huh?”
“Y-yes, daddy,” he gasped, beginning to buck his hips back in rhythm with
Yoongi, “Wanna c-cum so bad.. so fucking hard.”
“Okay, kitten,” he wrapped a hand around him, removing his face to watch,
“doing such a good job for me, you can let go.”
That was all it took, pathetically enough, Yoongi’s permission and the
slightest pressure on his cock to have his knees giving out and a sob escaping
his throat as he came, hard as he’d promised between them.
He took a moment to regain his bearings before realising Yoongi hadn’t finished
yet. He turned over his shoulder to look at him and said, “Daddy, want it in my
ass.”
“Come here, babe,” he patted the space next to him, “Come lay down.”
“No,” he whined, clearly still locked in subspace, “Daddy, please, want it so
bad.”
“You’re tired, baby, just came so much. Look, just come rest,” he coaxed,
reaching for his arm.
Jungkook hadn’t realised just how hard his knees were shaking until he tried
his best to clamber out off him, eventually just falling onto his side,
humiliated at his own weakness.
But Yoongi didn’t seem to mind, no longer demanding, but soothing as he guided
his fingers over to his cock, free hand rubbing up his back for comfort. Seeing
this, Jungkook tried again, “I wanna feel it in me, daddy. Don’t even need to
put your cock in I’m already all stretched out, just need to cum in me.”
“Such a... fucking c-cumslut, you know that,” he drawled, pressing a kiss to
his forehead, “Thirsty.”
“Please? I’ve been so good for you, did everything you asked, didn’t I?”
He sighed, “You did.”
“Then?” he asked again, “Can I, please? Are you close?”
There was a pause, “You know how bad I am at saying no to you.”
He took Jungkook’s hand away and repositioned himself between his legs, using
the cum still spread between them to grind up into his torso. Jungkook winced
in sensitivity, earning a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
The younger boy wrapped his arms around his neck to fit them tighter against
each other, embracing the feel of Yoongi’s quickening heartbeat against his now
slowing one, “Feel so good, daddy, want your cum so bad, can’t wait.”
At this, Yoongi jerked out of his touch and motioned for him to throw his legs
over his shoulders, squeezing his cock tightly before shoving the blunt tip
against his rim and finishing with a deep sigh.
It was such a beautiful sight in combination with the newfound heat, the early
afternoon light falling perfectly across his face as it screwed in pleasure,
highlighting the sweat on his cheekbones, his parted lips and blown pupils.
And then they were kissing again, this time slower, deeper as Yoongi
leaned back down to rest his weight on him, making sure to move his softening
cock out of the way as not to slip in. Though this disappointed Jungkook in its
own way, he couldn’t help but smile into the other’s mouth, at the taste of his
tongue and how cosy it felt to hold him so tight.
“I have a…,” he panted when he finally pulled away, caught off guard once more
by that odd dollike quality the other had to him, “I mean Taehyung left his
buttplug here-”
“Why-,” he sounded annoyed at the mention of another partner, but equally as
tuckered out by the looks of it, “You know what? I don’t wanna know.”
“I,” Jungkook continued, shrinking into himself, “If you wanted to put it in,
to you know… keep… it.”
“Seeing you this shy is refreshing, you know that?” he chuckled, “You’re so
annoyingly crass sometime-”
He gave his chest a half-assed whack, “You’re ruining the moment.”
He pecked his lips and his frown melted against his will, “Stop pouting, I can
do that for you,” he kissed him again, “This weekend it all about us, remember?
Whatever we want to do.”
“Except fucking,” he poked him, “For some stupid reason.”
“Jungkook, I don’t wanna fight with you. Let’s just enjoy ourselves, okay?”
He had a fair point, there was no use in wasting the weekend arguing.
“Okay,” he reached for the bedside and pulled the drawer open to present him
with the black silicone plug.
He took it from him and shuffled back to spread Jungkook’s legs farther open,
“I didn’t expect this, you know?”
“Ex-” he sucked in a sharp breath as the toy slid in. There wasn’t much in the
way of resistance, but still was an alien feeling seeing as it was always Tae,
the strict bottom he was, that used it. “Expect what?”
“I don’t know,” he flopped back ontop of him, wincing at the cum growing tacky
between them, “You to be this kinky, I guess? For us to be this compatible… uh,
sexually? I like it, how you get shy and squeaky and-”
He rolled his eyes, “Okay, okay I get it.”
“I was gonna call it cute, too, in case you were wondering.”
Jungkook’s stomach erupted in butterflies at his words, and he turned his head
away, “What exactly are you trying to do here?”
Ignoring the feelings he was trying so desperately to was clearly not working
out. But what should he have expected? How, for the love of god, the voice in
the back of his head scolded, could he expect to kill them off by hooking up
with the object of his infatuation. Especially when he made him feel small and
important and nice and just... good.
“Express my gratitude for how well this is working, maybe?”
It was working a little too well for Jungkook, actually. So he just hummed
instead, shoving his face in the crook of his neck to listen to his breathing
until he finally said, “Let’s go wash this cum off and watch some TV.”
 
Much of the rest of the day passed like that, as did the next. Get off, sleep,
eat, watch TV. For a seventeen-year-old, this was heavenly, the best way
imaginable to spend his weekend, and Yoongi, despite the fact he had an actual
life, didn’t seem to be all that far behind in terms of agreement. Sunday was a
little depressing, though.
They acted like things were normal, sure, but it was there, the sadness behind
their eyes and their words and the sense of impending doom they felt in light
of Jiwoo’s return. Her train got in at ten and it was around six, the two of
them curled tightly against one another in bed.
“This is the last time, isn’t it?” Jungkook choked out, reluctant to hear the
answer he knew was coming.
“I… yeah, baby,” he kissed his temple, let his lips linger for a moment before
speaking up again, “It’s supposed to be. It has to be.”
“Do you wish it wasn’t?”
“Yeah,” he admitted, “More than anything.”
“Look at me,” Jungkook said, shifting away an inch reluctantly.
“Mmm?”
“This weekend was… it was kind of a mistake, wasn’t it?”
Yoongi’s eyes widened in what looked an awful lot like fear, “I thought you
said you wan-”
“No,” he cut him off, quickly, “No, no, that’s not what I mean. I mean, like…
we… we messed around and we liked it too much and now it doesn’t feel like it’s
still… just messing… around.”
Yoongi was silent.
“Does it?” he pried, suddenly fearing rejection. He hadn’t felt this warm in
ages, this close to and comfortable with anyone, this happy to merely exist in
ages and in all honesty, the last thing he wanted to do was let go. He was kind
of afraid to, actually, realised all he saw in the future was coldness.
He gulped, “No. It doesn’t, Jungkook. Fuck, I really shouldn’t be admitting to
it, but you’re right.”
“I don’t want this to stop. I can’t lose this.”
“Jungkook, it’s too risky. You’re already covered in hickies and you’re
supposed to be grounded. It’s suspicious.”
“I know,” he whispered, clenching his jaw in an attempt to keep himself from
crying.
The other must have noticed, because he pulled him tighter against his side,
“Hey, Kook.”
He kept his head down. He’d cried too much this weekend, and whether or not it
had been sexual, it just wasn’t… him. But then again, cuddling and catching
pretty unavoidable feelings for a family member weren’t exactly characteristic
of him, either.
“Bunny, look at me, please?”
He did, letting his eyes flutter shut as Yoongi’s lips slotted with his own.
“Would you believe me if I told you I wished things were different?”
Jungkook ignored this, “When she’s back, you’re just gonna be with her like
this. She gets to kiss you and- and…,” he wasn’t too keen on envisioning it,
“All the… things.”
“You knew that when you got into this. We even talked about it. At the pizza
place, remember?”
“But now-”
“It’s too real,” Yoongi finished for him. “You’re right, this weekend, it’s-
We’re fucked.”
“If you ever want to come back-”
“If I do, I hope you’ll stop me.”
“You know I won’t.”
“Oh, Jungkookie,” he groaned, kissing him again, “Please do.”
Chapter End Notes
     i ended up writing like 8k leading up to the next chapter so im
     making this 7 chapters instead lmaooooo
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Summary
     In a way, it's pathetic just how whipped they already are.
Chapter Notes
     hi hello updates may come a little slow bc im sick and dying and its
     the end of the semester so yeah lol pls stay wit me
It didn’t take much time to tidy up. It wasn’t really that they’d made a mess,
but was more an issue of doing the laundry, opening Jungkook’s window so it no
longer smelt like, well, cum and sweat, and making sure there were no panties
scattered around the house.
They cleaned in silence. Then, Yoongi did his math homework for him, both too
afraid to look at eachother. Jungkook was on the cusp of tears, he wasn’t too
sure about the other, though.
But, he remembered as he studied Yoongi’s profile, the way his brow furrowed as
he scribbled down the answers to the equations in pencil, that he was Jeon
Jungkook, after all. Which meant never giving up, even when things got annoying
and inconvenient. He couldn’t just drop everything now. Not when he knew just
how good it all felt, how perfect they fit and the way Yoongi’s body felt
against his.
He’d give it a minute, he decided, unless he came to him first. This was
something he deemed entirely possible seeing as Yoongi had admitted to being
interested in him, too and was remarkably weak when it came to him. Plus, he
was still having those wet dreams. In fact, Jungkook had woken up to one on
Saturday night which had just turned into a fucking grind fest immediately
since there were absolutely no reservations.
Had been, he corrected himself. It was supposed to be over within the next
hour, when Jiwoo returned home.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Yoongi looked up to meet his gaze for the first
time in hours, back to the blank and reserved man he was used to. “Don’t try,
Jungkook. Let this weekend be a one off. We need to make an effort to ensure
neither of us slip up. It won’t work if one of us… you know.”
“Oh so now you can’t say it,” he couldn’t help but snap. Sue him. He missed the
affection already. “What happened to ‘suck daddy’s cock,’ huh?”
“Jungkook,” he sighed, “I understand your frustration, but-”
“Can we kiss?” he cut him off, realising he was wasting time bickering, “Just
for a little?”
Yoongi slapped the notebook down on the table, pulled his phone out of his back
pocket to check the time. He paused, “She’s gonna be home really soon, bab-
Jungkook.”
He smirked.
“Stop- don’t look at me like that.”
Jungkook got up.
Yoongi closed his eyes, let out a deep sigh, “Fine, Jungkook, I suppose we can
make out for a couple minutes. But that’s it, alright?”
“Set a timer,” he said as he swung a leg onto the couch to straddle him, “And
nothing too hard, your lips can’t be swollen.”
“You’re very cunning, you know that?”
“Different kinds of intelligence,” he connected their lips, gentler than he’d
ever been. It was supposed to be a goodbye, but it didn’t really feel like one,
the way Yoongi was returning his touch. He wondered if they were just in denial
or it wasn’t actually the end in either of their minds. His stepfather did have
a thing for denial, after all.
They let the timer go off for a couple minutes before realising they had set it
for a pretty crucial reason and forced themselves apart.
“I’m really, really going to miss you.”
“You do realise you have to be normal Jungkook when mom gets home right? Not
someone who unabashedly talks about their feelings,” it was supposed to be a
joke, but fell flat. So Yoongi said, “I’m going to miss you, too, baby.”
Jungkook pouted, leaned in to leave one last lingering peck to his mouth before
saying, “I don’t feel like facing her right now. Just tell her I’m asleep. And
break the fake news about me and some random chick hooking up at school or
something for me, please? I don’t wanna deal with that, either, in all
honesty.”
Yoongi kissed him again, pulled away, “Okay.”
“Goodnight,” another kiss.
“Goodnight,” he leaned in, but stopped himself.
Jungkook was able to fight back his tears until he reached his bedroom.
 
Jiwoo pecked him on the forehead when she got home. Jungkook pretended to stay
asleep, refused to admit to himself that he’d missed her, the calming scent of
her perfume and gentle touch as she patted his arm on the way out.
 
“Jesus mother fucking Christopher,” Chad barked after gym the next day. They
were in the locker rooms, showering. Or Jungkook had been trying to before
being rudely interrupted, “What’s been going on in Sin City? Get it, cause
you’re gay.”
Jungkook rolled his eyes before looking to Taehyung for some sort of moral
support. Except Taehyung was just gaping at him in shock, so he was forced to
deal with his homophobic piece of shit classmate on his own, “At least I’m
getting ass, you little bitch. What’d you do this weekend other than jerk your
cheesy dick?”
He was promptly yanked to the side after that by Taehyung and pushed into a
shower stall. “What the fuck is going on? Why didn’t you text me literally all
weekend? What the fuck- no. Who the fuck were you doing?”
Jungkook shot him a smug smile, a poor attempt at masking what he had now
accepted as mild depression over the situation.
“Okay, well, you’re poorly veiled angst and clear self-satisfaction is making
it clear it was Yoongi,” he started, “But first of all, how on earth did this
happen? Second of all, how did you think you could just… not tell me for
however many days-”
“You’re not my therapist, fuckass,” he snapped, “but now that you’re here,
yeah, it happened,and it was literally… wow.”
“Even compared to m-”
“Yes, especially compared to you, what?”
“Okay, rude, but older men… I get your point.”
“It didn’t feel like… that, though. Like it didn’t feel like just some kinky
one off-”
“I called it,” he groaned, “Jungkook, you have feelings for him now, don’t
you?”
He turned his eyes towards the ceiling, “You know, they really need to fix the
mold problem, look at the-”
“No, stop, answer the question.”
He let his shoulders sag, shrugged halfheartedly. “Well you don’t have to word
it like that. But it’s supposed to be over now. Like it was supposed to be just
this weekend to get it out of our systems and now…. I don’t know. Can we talk
about this somewhere else? With clothes on?”
“You still down to smoke during chem?”
“Yeah.”
“Word,” he spun on his heel to pop into the next shower stall, “Meet you out
there in ten.”
 
“Okay, so what happened? I thought he was totally against it?” Taehyung asked
as he rolled.
“He seemed to be, but he was lying to try and be responsible or something.
Then, I threw a fit and I guess he just kinda couldn’t keep lying anymore and
was like fine, we can do this weekend, but that’s it.”
“And then?”
“Well he said he felt bad kissing and having actually sex. I mean, the kissing
thing we threw away within the hour, but we never actually had sex, we just
messed around a lot.”
“For three days straight?”
“The sexual tension all of last week was thick as fuck.”
He snorted.
“Yeah, but now things suck. Like, really suck. I couldn’t face her last night
and saying goodbye…. I don’t know, it didn’t feel like the end at all. And,
like, okay, in a way I hope I’m not lying to myself, but he’s right, it’s
better this way.”
“How were things this morning?”
“He kissed her on the cheek and I almost threw up,” Jungkook said, “So awful.”
“Well, what about him? Does he seem… okay?”
Jungkook thought back, “He looked tired, I don’t think he slept much last
night.”
“What about when he kissed her? I mean, do you think he’s gonna be able to just
move past this?”
“I hope not,” Jungkook admitted, “Like I get this makes me kind of a sociopath,
cause she’s my mom and I’m ruining her marriage, but fuck it. I want him so
bad, dude. Like the things he said. Butterflies. Literally, butterflies and it
felt so dumb, but it felt so right at the same time, you know?”
“You do realise you got good dick, and from your stepdad, no less and it’s
turned you into a walking Nicholas Sparks book?”
“Yeah,” he snapped, “I’m well aware, Taehyung, and I hate it.”
“Well,” he held out the joint and lighter to the other, “We don’t have to keep
talking about it if you don’t want. We can just get high as balls, instead.”
 
“Honey,” Jiwoo chimed when she got home. Jungkook had scurried upstairs the
second he’d arrived in hopes to avoid her and Yoongi. Which clearly wasn’t
panning out the way he’d hoped.
Still, he barked out an uninterested, “Yeah,” and groaned under her breath when
he heard her ascend the stairs.
“Hey, Kook,” she smiled as she cracked the door, taking a peek around before
stepping further in, “Room’s looking real clean, huh?”
“Uh, yeah,” Jungkook begrudgingly put down his phone, “Dadd- dad made me clean
it before you got home.”
“Smart of him,” she hummed, sitting down at the edge of the mattress and laying
a hand on his ankle, “It was starting to get a little dirty, wouldn’t you
agree?”
For the first time, when Jungkook looked her in the eyes, he felt guilt, almost
tangible as it rose in his throat. She was so oblivious to the fact that her
family had turned against her, must have assumed nothing out of the ordinary
had happened over the course of her trip and who could blame her? Who in their
right mind would suspect that their husband had been messing around with their
kid? And they were both equally as enthusiastic about it, too, at least towards
the end. It’d been so easy to throw away all sense of morality in the face of
lust and want, but now that it was over? That Jungkook had done the unspeakable
and was feeling what he now knew he felt towards Yoongi? It weighed heavy on
his chest.
When the corner of her mouth quirked once more into a smile, Jungkook knew in
his mind that he couldn’t carry on like this, that he had to stop. But he also
wondered if he’d be able to hold his ground if he felt Yoongi touching him,
looking into his eyes the same way.
“Yeah, mom, sure,” he sighed, nodding awkwardly. He was glad he was just coming
off as a moody teenager, at the age for his mother not to suspect anything out
of the ordinary.
“Was it punishment for what you got up to in school this week?”
No, Jungkook wanted to say all of a sudden, his punishment for coming home with
a hickie had been a little more… hands on. But he kept his mouth shut, itching
the back of his head, “Yeah, uh, sorry, I guess.”
“Honey, just be careful, alright?” she patted his leg again, “We don’t want any
mistakes to be made, you have college coming right up, and-”
He scrunched his nose, “Mom, no, ew- stop.”
She chuckled, looking around his room once more, “How’d this week go, anyways?
You didn’t text me much.”
“Alright, I guess,” he didn’t know what exactly Yoongi had told her, “Pretty
normal.”
“What about… what about Yoongi? He looks more well rested to me, but I still
heard him up and around last night. Is he… I mean, did you notice anything
off?”
The remorse had been beginning to ebb, but upon her question, Jungkook was
filled with yet another wave of it, this one stronger than the last. Why did he
suddenly want to spill his guts? Get it off his chest and chase her out of his
room? But then he snapped out of it. He couldn’t do that to them. To her, to
Yoongi, to himself. How was he supposed to tell her the reason he looked so
much better was because Jungkook had been sucking his dick?
So instead he said, “No, not really. To be honest, I only really saw him for
dinner and math homework, so.”
“And during that, nothing was different?” Jungkook watched her ring her hands
together, a clear sign of concern. “He didn’t say anything?”
“Nothing,” Jungkook lied, “We didn’t talk much and during math we just did the
work and then I went back to my room.”
“You used to be so sweet to him, though, honey? Remember? You two used to watch
TV, what happened to that?”
He clenched his jaw, “I guess we did once or twice, but he fell asleep pretty
quick, so we didn’t do much in the way of talking.”
She hummed, “I just… this is personal, Jungkook, so I’d rather you not repeat
it, but he goes through these episodes of depression. I’m just worried they’re
back, but I’ve never seen him in that state since he’d been doing so well after
we got together.”
“Mom,” Jungkook sat up and reached for her shoulder, “I’m sure everything is
fine and even if it is his depression, you probably have nothing to do with
it.”
She patted his head, “Sorry to jump this stuff on you, I just felt like I
needed to check in. Will you keep an eye on him for me, please?”
“Sure,” he nodded, forcing himself to hold her gaze, “No problem, mom. Anything
out of the ordinary, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, baby,” she smiled. Letting silence fall over them before, “I was
thinking that maybe we could all go to the diner for dinner tonight? Have a
meal as a family, especially since your father and I just got back to work.”
“Oh yeah,” Jungkook forced a smile, “That’s an awesome idea, mom-”
The door shut downstairs, and Jiwoo turned around to yell out, “Yoongi?”
They heard his signature deadpan grunt and Jungkook felt his mouth quirk up in
a smile. Funny how he had to force himself not to find it endearing.
“Come upstairs, we’re in Jungkookie’s room!”
Another grunt and Jungkook’s heart began to hammer in his chest. How the fuck
was he supposed to act anymore? How did they used to act? He couldn’t remember
a stage in their relationship where his mind wasn’t fixated on Yoongi anymore,
however short a time it’d been since the entire mess had begun. But that being
said, he couldn’t remember a time where he saw his mother as a threat, either.
So he forced himself to smile wider, keep his eyes from twitching and looked
his mother dead in the eye when she turned his head to him and offered him an
excited smile.
The guilt was replaced with a ferocious sense of want the second the door
opened once more and Yoongi strolled in, unhesitant and fatigued in his work
polo and slacks. And yeah, maybe Jungkook was trying not to drool, regardless
of the simplicity and lack of effort from the other. He wasn’t even smiling for
fuckssake, looked grim as he opened the door, avoiding both of their eyes.
Jiwoo reached to grab his hand and pull him down besides her, pecking his mouth
as a form of greeting. But Yoongi’s eyes were wide open, bloodshot and now
focused on Jungkook’s. He gulped, glad his mother hadn’t been witness to his
flustered reaction and hoped she wouldn’t notice the tips of his ears going red
when she turned back around.
He tried to smile at Yoongi, wanted things to at least be okay, as close to
normal as could be and to his luck, it was returned, though it looked like more
of a grimace. He decided all things considered it was a solid enough response.
“Hey, kid,” he choked, unable to look away.
Until Jiwoo clapped down on his shoulder, that is, leading him to all but jump
out of his skin.
“Hard day at work, babe?” she asked sympathetically, leaning a head on Yoongi’s
shoulder.
He cleared his throat, “Mmmhmm.”
Jungkook pointedly looked down at his hands.
“Me, too,” she said after a moment, “Jungkookie and I wanted to go out for
dinner as a family, tonight. Since we’re all in the same boat with getting back
to work and school.”
Jungkook felt the disbelieving look he gave him, so he looked up trying to keep
his face neutral, “Yeah, dad, haven’t spent much time as a unit, you know?”
He noticed the way his hand curled into a fist on the blanket. Jiwoo did not.
He grunted again, “How much math do we need to do tonight?”
“Just a couple pages, nothing too bad.”
He nodded slowly, “Should we do it before, then?”
“Whatever’s easier,” Jungkook’s eyes darted between him and Jiwoo.
“I’m not too hungry yet,” she said, giving both of them a final pat before
rising to her feet, “So that’s fine. I’ll go down and do a little reading, just
come and get me when you two are ready to go, alright?”
“Sure,” they said in unison, shooting her tight lipped smiles before watching
her walk out the door. They listened for her to descend the stairs before
Yoongi turned to face him and sighed.
“How are you feeling?”
Jungkook shifted closer, bracing himself for Yoongi to scoot away. He didn’t.
“I could ask you the same question, old man.”
His voice sounded strained when he said, “Don’t… don’t call me that.”
“Okay, so we both feel awful.”
Yoongi nodded, “I’m sorry this weekend happened, Jungkook. It was a momentary
lapse in judgement. When you started crying on Friday, I guess I kinda....”
“Stop trying to say it was a mistake.”
“Kook, we’re in a world of trouble now. If we tell her, this whole family goes
down, but the guilt is eating me alive. And you…. God, Kook, I can’t just
switch it off, you know?”
He knew he was talking about his feelings, and boy oh boy, was he fucked. He’d
sworn him off not ten minutes ago in his mother’s company, but it took no more
than a few seconds of eye contact for him to know any attempts were absolutely
futile.
“I missed you today,” he blurted, voice uncharacteristically soft.
This time it was Yoongi who moved towards him, giving neither of them much time
to think before pulling him into a hug. “I did, too.”
They stayed like that, able to hear Jiwoo’s music from the speaker downstairs,
reluctant to let go, but well aware that it wasn’t worth the risk to try much
more. That, and it was supposed to be over. It was supposed to be a one time
thing, something they shouldn’t have wanted to run back to. But come on, the
both of them had known damn well something like this was bound to happen.
So Jungkook just nuzzled deeper into the side of Yoongi’s neck and let out a
deep breath before forcing himself away. “We should get to work before mom
comes upstairs and-”
“Yeah,” he said quickly, turning away from him to collect the backpack off the
floor. Jungkook watched his shoulders, their width greater than his own and
couldn’t help but wonder if he still had the faint red marks he’d left in the
middle of the night Saturday.
He also wondered if he and Jiwoo had any similar memories, moments but forced
it back immediately, the hot dog he’d gotten on the way home with Taehyung
churning in his stomach.
“Can you sit next to me?” he said awkwardly, avoiding his eyes.
Yoongi paused, and for a moment it felt like he was going to turn him down.
Until he let out a defeatedly huffed, “Move over.”
They sat close, but neither addressed it, other than the crack in Yoongi’s
voice when Jungkook cautiously leaned his head on his shoulder as he explained
isomorphism.
For the first time, it didn’t seem to matter to Yoongi that Jungkook had zoned
out. The last thing he remembered before drifting off was the feel of his
fingers massaging his scalp as he continued to talk.
He resurfaced when Yoongi began to shift under him and grabbed out for his
hand, leading the other to snort nostalgically.
“Mmmmph,” he groaned, “Daddy, where are you going?”
He was promptly shushed and that’s when he remembered, lifting his head and
wiping the drool from his chin, “Oh. Sorry.”
“Just try and be careful for me, alright?” Yoongi said, getting out of bed,
“I’m going to change out of my work clothes before I go down. Your homework is
done.”
“Uh,” Jungkook blinked, “Thanks, Yoongi.”
“Sure, kid,” he stretched and Jungkook couldn’t help but eye the way his shirt
rode up, “Almost fell asleep myself. This shit really is boring.”
 
Yoongi and Jiwoo spoke the majority of the car ride, leaving a still tired
Jungkook to lean his head against the window and plug in his headphones. His
stepfather sounded pretty normal, all things considered, and Jungkook was
thankful, knew he couldn’t play the stress their situation was putting on them
off as anything so ambiguous when he was this exhausted. One of them had to do
it.
But it still pained him to see the Jiwoo put a hand on his thigh, and even more
so when Yoongi laid his over it. Jungkook felt cold.
He picked at his stack of pancakes, and took periodic sips of his vanilla
milkshake as he played with his phone, responding to any attempts at
conversation with one syllable answers.
Yoongi stepped in when she asked what was wrong and he found himself unable to
come up with an excuse, “Math sure tuckers him out.”
“Mondays, too,” he added, before turning his eyes back down.
“Well, short week!” she said optimistically, “Which brings me to the next
topic, the living situation for Hoseok and everyone when they get here.”
Jungkook quirked up at this, eyes darting to Yoongi. The last time they’d had
thanksgiving at their house, it’d been the old one near Namjoon’s, the one with
a spare bedroom. This one, however, was smaller.
Yoongi’s eyes met his, clearly thinking the same thing before swallowing his
bite of food, “What day are they coming, again?”
“Thursday,” Jiwoo said, “But early, so no late night, Jungkook. I want you up
and presentable when everyone gets here.”
“Is Jin coming?” he asked.
“Not this time, honey, sorry. Hoseok was saying he was going to stay behind to
finish up his dissertation at school this time around.”
He gave a small nod. Jin was his only first cousin, and they got along fairly
well seeing as they shared a sense of humor and the elder often acted closer to
Jungkook’s age than his own. It’d be boring, but oh well, he supposed. More
time for he and Yoongi, especially since Hoseok and Jiwoo hadn’t caught up in
quite a while.
“So it’s just Hoseok and Sooyoung this year?” Yoongi asked.
“Mmm,” she nodded, “I was thinking of putting you two in Jungkook’s room
together and giving the master bedroom to them if that’s okay with the two of
you?”
Yoongi’s nostrils flared. His mouth opened and closed, and Jungkook could tell
he was trying desperately to come up with some sort of coherent answer.
He was in the same boat, but so much more subtle. They were lucky seeing as
Jiwoo was looking at him. She spoke up again, “Are you two comfortable with
that? We can set up a roll out on the floor if you want. I just thought it’d
make more sense than Jungkook and I sharing a room.”
“O-of course,” Yoongi replied, “But where do you plan on sleeping, hun?”
If she noticed the pet name sounding strained, she said nothing, “Oh, I’ll just
take the sofa.”
“Jungkook can-”
He cut him off, “Yeah we can share a room, mom, don’t worry about it.”
Yoongi, out of the corner of his eye, looked scared.
“Yeah?” she shifted around, Yoongi’s face falling blank in the nick of time.
“Yoongi, that’s okay with you?”
He pushed his plate back, meal only half eaten, “If you think it’s best, then
sure.”
By the looks of it, it wasn’t over, after all.
On the way back, Jungkook typed out a message.
 
To: Yoongi
Looks like it’s meant to be
 
Yoongi didn’t end up replying to that, but he did text Jungkook a couple hours
after they’d gotten home, once Jiwoo was fast asleep and snoring away.
 
From: Yoongi
We need to talk about this
 
Jungkook, unfortunately, missed this seeing as he was jerking off.
I mean, come on. He deserved a break. He was 17 years old and horribly
emotionally and sexually frustrated due to the fact that the guy he was into
was literally married to his mother and he’d probably have to resist fucking
him for like 4 full days in a row with him literally sleeping next to him in
his twin bed. For two grown(ish) men, that wasn’t exactly a whole lot of space.
So yeah, obviously he felt the need to rub one out (or two, possibly even three
depending on how tired he got) to relieve said frustration. Not that he was
even sure it’d work.
He’d had some music on, nothing too loud, but something just loud enough to
cover him if a moan were to escape him. Or Yoongi’s name, which was more likely
and just as dangerous.
This music was what led the root of his problems to him. He must have heard it
from outside his room en route to the bathroom and figured Jungkook was awake,
that this was the best time to discuss with him how they were going to manage
avoiding putting themselves in compromising situations.
Which proved itself horribly redundant seeing as he walked right into one.
“Jungkook, can you please answ- oh my god.”
He was lying spread eagle on the mattress, legs propped up as he slipped two
fingers in and out of himself, left hand lazily palming his cock. He didn’t
register the man in front of him for a moment, eyes rolled back into his head
and the voice in his imagination identical to the one he heard from the
doorway. But when he did, he didn’t bother to stop what he was doing, too close
to the edge to care much what Yoongi saw. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight,
afterall, not after the weekend.
He tried his best to smirk when his brain finally registered the situation,
beckoning, “C-come in,” voice breathy and strained.
Yoongi just stood there, knuckles white around the doorknob and stuck in place,
clearly having the argument of the century with himself in his head.
“Please,” he moaned softly, “Daddy, I need you.”
“What are you doing?” he hissed, finally taking action and backing up.
“Daddy, please, I-mmph- I miss you.”
“Fuck,” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut.
Seeing that desperate times called for desperate measures, Jungkook tried
again, pausing his ministrations to pant, “I’ll start moaning louder if you
don’t come in. You don’t wanna wake up mom, do you?”
“God,” he caved, stepped inwards, and though his mouth was screwed in a
grimace, his eyes looked excited, eager. “Jungkook, I- fuck.”
He smiled when the door shut quietly behind him, “Come closer.”
“We can’t-”
“You don’t have to look at me, I can take it from behind-”
“Jungkook, don’t be crass.”
“Come closer,” he whined, beginning to move his fingers once more, “Come fuck
me.”
“Jungkook, I’m not going to fuck you,” but his voice was thickening and his
eyes were focused on his lower body, flickering between his cock and ass.
“Th-en come sit down,” Jungkook was cut off by a moan as he unexpectedly
brushed his prostate, “wanna- wanna see you at least.”
“You can see me from here.”
“Daddy, I need you, wanna cum.”
“Okay,” he breathed, making his way over. His movements were almost mechanic,
eyes still fixated in the same spot, making Jungkook wonder if he hadn’t fallen
into some sort of trance, “Okay, but I can’t touch you.”
“Yeah,” he figured he’d take what he could get, so close to cumming that even
if Yoongi did, he wouldn’t last more than a minute, tops. his face was so
heavenly, he realised, trying his best to keep his eyes focused over the wave
of pleasure that being in his presence provided.
He wrapped his hand tighter around himself when the end of the bed sunk in and
shifted the tiniest bit forward, just to feel his warmth, maybe even make some
sort of contact with the other, because, fuck, he absolutely needed him.
Jungkook needed him.
He moaned at the thought, watching as Yoongi’s adam’s apple bobbed in his
throat. He hated to say it, but it looked an awful lot like he needed him, too.
A tentative hand came to rest across his ankle and the younger jerked at the
touch, biting back a smile.
“Daddy, I… I’m so fucking close, please.”
Yoongi clenched his jaw, “Bab- Jungkook, I can’t.”
“J-just call me your good boy, please?” he begged, “God, I’m close- f-fuck,
please?”
He took a deep breath.
“Gonna cum.”
At this, he caved, “Cum for daddy, be daddy’s good boy and let go, okay?”
The feeling of his thick fingers against his skin coupled with the words that
Jungkook had wanted to desperately to hear led a choked moan to escape his
throat and his body to convulse, legs kicking as streaks of white spurted out
against his torso.
He didn’t register that Yoongi had been staring at him with such malicious
intent, jaw slack and eyes glazed over, until he finally came down and his eyes
rolled back into place. His fingers were still stroking lightly over his ankle,
and Jungkook sighed, the once arousing touch now more comforting than anything.
“Your turn.”
“Jungkook, no.”
He sounded stern enough, and now that his inhibitions were beginning to return,
so was the guilt, the thoughts of his mother, of how this jerk off session had
only begun in the first place to prevent something like this. So he made no
attempt to protest, looking away instead. He didn’t want Yoongi to know just
how desperately he wanted him, how pathetic it was all becoming.
Could they really not resist each other? Did it really need to be this hard?
Complicated? Did he really not have it in him to just control himself like
everyone else?
It was sadness he felt when Yoongi removed his hand, leading him to look
awkwardly towards the ceiling. “Can you lay next with me?”
There were a few seconds of silence and for a moment, Jungkook wondered if he
hadn’t just hallucinated the entire thing, too caught up in arousal to
distinguish fantasy from reality. However, when he turned his eyes down, not
only was Yoongi right there, but he was looking at him dead on, scanning his
face with an unreadable expression.
“Please?”
It took him another moment to say, “Fine, Jungkook. But no kissing or fooling
around or anything. And put some pants on, for fucks sake.”
“Thanks,” it wasn’t a word he ever said genuinely, and it felt unnatural
rolling off his tongue. “I’ll just… clean up and I’ll… yeah.”
Jungkook stared at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands and stomach
off. He was so… so weak, he realised. Pathetic. Unable to think even a few
minutes into the future when he was lost in the moment.
He could just mark it up to being a teenager, sure, but normal teenagers fucked
kids their age, liked people who weren’t members of their family. What did they
have that he didn’t? What was he lacking that made him not only impulsive, but
so addicted to the idea of Yoongi. His presence, his voice, the way he smelled
and spoke and touched him, even if it was gentle and nowhere near sexual. It
was all too much for him to handle.
And he knew damn well it was an awful idea to prance back into his room and hop
into bed with him, even if it was just to talk, because, god, did he feel bad
for Jiwoo. Before she left, he had just been pursuing it, had sort of expected
things to be mutual, but nothing had transpired, rendering him able to remove
himself from the harm he was causing. Now that they’d acted upon it, though?
Lied to her face, and to themselves that there was nothing wrong?
He tried to drown out the sounds of her snores as he tiptoed past her room into
his own, only to find Yoongi sitting in the very same spot he had been before,
eyes trained on the carpet. Jungkook wondered if he was having the same
conversation with himself in his head, chewing himself out for what he had just
done.
Because though it was nothing like what had happened over the weekend, it was
still something. The feelings were still there. It was still all too real and
exceedingly clear that things weren’t going to change. Unless they got worse,
fell deeper, something which Jungkook was growing confident would happen.
“I shouldn’t have made you do that,” was what he said to snap him out his train
of thought after he’d closed the door softly behind him, “I’m sorry.”
“Jeon Jungkook apologizing? That’s new,” but it sounded weak, lackluster.
“Lay back,” he said, “Relax, you look all strung out.”
“I think it’s safe to say that I am.”
“I wasn’t thinking-”
“I know you weren’t,” Yoongi snapped, “because you’re you, but I was thinking.
Or I should have been, at least.”
“Please just lay down? I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”
“Jungkook, we cheated. On what we said we would do. We totally broke the rules
and it’s been one day.”
He nodded, relieved when Yoongi shuffled back against the headboard and crossed
his arms, “Yeah, but like. People can’t just quit things cold turkey most of
the time, like, you gotta relapse.”
“We aren’t addicted, Jungkook,” he huffed, “This isn’t a substance abuse
problem.”
“Then what the hell is wrong with us?” now Jungkook sounded strained, too,
growing all the more confused about their dynamic the more they spoke about it.
“We have no self control? We’re selfish assholes? I don’t know, Jungkook, but
your mother is about 20 feet away and neither of us had the decency to even
try-”
“You tried,” he pointed out, “I made you come in here.”
Yoongi looked down to his nails to mutter, “I probably would’ve anyways.”
Jungkook wished he could do something to eliminate the butterflies he felt in
his stomach. He kept his mouth shut, instead turning to the closet to pull out
a pair of clean sweats.
“This little… thing we have going on here needs to be fixed by the time
everyone shows up on Thursday morning, you know that right?”
“Well what did… whatever just happened even count as? You didn’t touch me or
kiss me or do anything-”
“Dirty talking-”
“Was something you did to help me so I could bust my nut and we could talk. It
was the least you could do to speed things along.”
“Kid, please don’t… don’t try and rationalize what we’re doing. Or downplay it,
for that matter. It’s not helping us in any way, shape or form.”
“I’m just trying not to overreact,” he defended, “We’re already not taking this
whole thing well, why freak out about it any more?”
“Because the more things we excuse, the more we think we can get away with
without calling it what it is.”
“And what exactly would that be, Yoongi?” he got into bed and slid under the
covers, noting the way the other didn’t flinch or make any move to distance
himself, “What is this?”
He closed his eyes, “I don’t know. I don’t really want to know. There shouldn’t
be anything in the first place.”
“Yeah, okay, no shit. We both know that.”
“Don’t snap at me, Kook, I’m not in the mood right now.”
Fair enough.
So Jungkook said, “What’s our game plan, then? How are we gonna do this? Like,
sleep in the same bed and just… be okay? I mean, we don’t really have the means
do to a practice run, and if we fuck that up-”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighed, “We need to figure out how to be alone together
without slipping. Like, we need to, I don’t know, practice at least being
together and acting like a normal s-son and… yeah.”
He was still clearly having a hard time coming to terms with things, that was
clear to Jungkook, but he had to wonder what exactly he was struggling with
most, what he really thought about it all. Because though he’d been doing a
pretty shit job, his intentions were and always had been to keep things under
control and be responsible. Which meant that Jungkook had no true way of
figuring out what was going through his head. God, did he wish he did.
“Okay,” he nodded, “Right. Yeah, so a less intense practice run. Just me and
you. Alone. Hanging out.”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing weird.”
Yoongi gulped. Now that. That was the hard part, “Nothing weird, yeah.”
 
What constituted as weird was subjective, Jungkook supposed as he padded down
to the living room late the next night. I mean, sure, maybe his clinginess
towards the older man wasn’t exactly characteristic of him, but that being
said, he had certainly done stranger things. Like sucking his dick, for
example, or letting him cum in his ass. Yeah, no, that was weird.
They had planned to go out and do something tomorrow. Something not weird, like
some sort of outing or something to practice being alone together before they
had to share a bed for the week.
The thing was, being alone together for longer amounts of time had proven
itself risky in recent days, and they knew they’d feel too guilty to mess
around with Jiwoo awake or with them, so they had to find some sort of middle
ground. Try to get themselves sort of supervision that wasn’t Jiwoo’s. Jungkook
hoped it’d work. Or in a way he did, he supposed.
Because, he hated to admit it, but he kinda liked liking Yoongi. He liked what
they had, their dynamic, how nice he made him feel, not as the dominant jock he
was supposed to be around everyone else, but a small, pretty baby. Something
precious. That, and he just liked him. The dry sense of humour, the jokes, the
deep voice and strong hands, the smell of his cologne. Jungkook, dare he say
it, not only felt good about them as a pair, but was also grateful that he had
the opportunity to get to know someone he now had accepted he cared about in a
new way. A better way.
Which is why he had decided to follow the other down stairs when he got out of
bed in the middle of the night. Yoongi looked so tired again already, and he
could tell his mother was trying not to notice, to blame it on herself. His
eyes had sunken back in and the corners of his mouth were constantly downturned
just the slightest bit. Jungkook didn’t feel too great about it, either. This
was only her third night back, and, god, he knew Yoongi couldn’t carry this out
forever. He needed his sleep, always had.
“Hey,” he said softly once he’d reached the threshold of the living room.
Yoongi, who was so used to sitting undisturbed in the dark room, jumped before
letting out a sharp breath and muttering, “Jesus, kid.”
He sniggered.
“What are you doing here? Not sneaking out, I hope.”
“I’m not stupid,” he snorted, making his way over and plopping himself down
dangerously close to the other. But he wasn’t going to touch. Not in that way,
at least. He’d resist. He promised himself he would. He just… needed a little
affection, not that he’d ever admit it.
“Judging by the fact you think it’s a good idea to sit yourself essentially in
my lap, I’m gonna call bullshit.”
He didn’t say anything, instead leaning his head on the other’s shoulder.
Yoongi froze and Jungkook felt him gulp, so he spoke up again, “Relax, alright?
As long as you don’t pop a boner we’ll be fine.”
He snorted, “I don’t know what's weirder: your sexual advances or… whatever it
is you’re doing right now.”
“Deal with it,” he grumbled, “Also, put your arm around me.”
“Jungkoo-”
“This doesn’t count as weird, it’s fine.”
He had a feeling that Yoongi did not agree with his statement, but he just
sighed and obliged, letting his fingers skim the sleeve of his shirt.
“Mom thinks you’re depressed,” he said when he noticed the other smelt like
cigarettes.
Yoongi grunted weakly in response.
“Are you?”
This earned a deep sigh, “Hell, Jungkook, I can’t say this is the best period
in my life.”
“But…?” he asked, hopeful that the other would dispel his worries.
“But… nothing.”
“So are you?” he turned his eyes upwards to meet Yoongi’s.
“I’m not doing… great, I don’t think. I mean, the lack of sleep doesn’t help,
nor does doing literally anything in any context with your mother after what
we’ve done.”
Jungkook waited for him to continue, leading him to blurt, “And I can’t have
you and that doesn’t help.”
“Do I make you feel better?” there it was, the speeding of his heart and
sweating of his palms.
“You saw me over the weekend.”
So that was a yes. Jungkook wanted to kiss him. But he knew if he fucked this
up, this whole sitting on the couch thing, Yoongi probably wouldn’t be as open
to it the next time around. “Well, hopefully this week will be better for you,
like, sleep wise, at least.”
“And why do you think that?”
“You don’t have to worry about the dreams.”
He shook his head, “Yeah, I do, Jungkook. In fact, it’s worse for me to be
sleeping in your bed, especially considering what I did Tuesday.”
“I started it,” he admitted, “I don’t know if you remember, but I like,
provoked you I guess would be the word.”
“What about over the weekend?”
“I probably won’t even wake up with just grinding, anyways,” he tried to
soothe.
But the attempt was weak, not at all settling to Yoongi, “Maybe you and Jiwoo
should just share the room.”
“Yoongi,” he whined, “Yoongi, no, we can do this, okay? Like, see how we are
now? We can do shit like this, like after everyone goes to sleep. We can just
chill in my room or something.”
“Kook, this mentality is so unhealthy,” he said, “I shouldn’t be letting you do
this at all considering our history. Also, we live here. Together. We don’t
need to be all cuddled up in bed to have a conversation.”
“Please,” Jungkook whined, “Don’t ditch me, I’ve been looking forward to this.”
“And that’s exactly the problem,” he snapped before realising the harshness of
his tone and shaking his head, “We aren’t supposed to want this so much. That’s
what we need to work on.”
Jungkook, in a way, knew that they wouldn’t. But he did love to win, didn’t
want to admit defeat before they’d even started. Which meant he knew that to
win, he’d have to control himself. The problem was he wanted so desperately not
to. So instead he continued to whine, “But I’m going to college soon anyways
and we won’t ever see each other, let’s just… why can’t we just do this once?”
“I don’t know what you expect to get out of this, Jungkook.”
He didn’t reply, just nuzzled deeper into his side of his shirt after changing
the channel.
 
Jungkook had never been on a date before, seeing as he had previously been
repulsed by the thought of being in a relationship of all things, but he had to
admit to himself that this felt an awful lot like one. When it explicitly was
not supposed to be one. No, that was the last thing this was supposed to be.
It was supposed to be platonic, if not familial, but sitting in some white
napkin Italian restaurant with Yoongi sort of felt like anything but that.
Jungkook wondered if it could be marked up to his imagination, but the way
Yoongi was avoiding his eyes was proving itself rather telling.
“So,” Jungkook said in an attempt to clear the awkward air, “What’s up?”
“What’s up, Jungkook?” Yoongi sounded stressed, looking down to pick at his
fingernails in a clear attempt to avoid his eyes, “You know what’s up.”
“We can talk about other stuff, too, Yoongi. Like not about what going on right
now. The more we just sit here and freak out the more obvious it’s gonna be
that something is up to Jiwoo.”
“I hate lying, Jungkook.”
“I don’t really like it either-”
Yoongi cocked an eyebrow, disbelieving.
“Okay, well not in this situation. I know you think I’m some sort of sociopath,
but like, she’s still my mom and I love her.”
He nodded awkwardly, “Sorry, I’m just- I can’t stop thinking about everything.
Where we can go from here.”
“It doesn’t have to affect anything,” Jungkook said through a mouthful of bread
and butter.
“I think we both know it does, Jungkook. It already has.”
He did not know how to defend this.
“I really don’t think sharing a bed is the best idea, kid.”
“No, Yoongi, don’t do this again. Let’s just let it happen and take things from
there. Everyone is literally coming tomorrow and you telling mom out of the
blue that you wanna switch everything around is gonna be so sus.”
“Sus?”
“Suspicious,” he flicked a crumb at him, “Old ass.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“I was kidding,” he grumbled sheepishly, “...Are you alright, though?”
“Do I look alright, Jungkook?”
“Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” and he was being genuine, believe
it or not, guilty that he had been so insistent on putting them in this
situation.
“Unless you can time travel, then no.”
“Are you even gay?” he asked. Then, “Oh, uh, you don’t have to-”
“Jungkook,” he sighed, “After everything we did, do you really think I’m not
experienced?”
He thought about it, the way his fingers curled so perfectly within him, how
he’d known exactly how to prep him and what he’d liked.
“Stop,” Yoongi poked his hand, “Don’t think about it like that.”
“You’re the one that brought it up.”
“Fuck my life,” he muttered.
“Let’s just talk about anything else,” Jungkook said, “You’re like obsessing
over this and you kinda look like you wanna die right now.”
“Like what, Jungkook? What could possibly more pressing than this?”
“It doesn’t need to be important,” he shrugged, “I mean, we’re just running in
circles, which is, no offence, getting kinda tiring and also this… thing were
doing was supposed to make everything better.”
“Kinda hard when it feels like a goddamn date.”
So that made both of them.
It was mindless conversation from thereon out, and at first it remained
awkward, tense, but soon started to flow, and the downturned corners of
Yoongi’s lips began to perk up. He even laughed at something stupid he heard
Jungkook say.
Too bad Jungkook found himself fixated on him anyways, the sound of his voice,
his lips and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled big enough. There was
something about Yoongi when he was in a good mood that made Jungkook feel so
safe, calm and it brought him to the sudden realisation that the last thing he
ever wanted to do was leave for college. Not when he had him right here. Even
if he couldn’t have him. He’d take what he could get.
Jungkook had given up on winning, at least for the time being. He’d been forced
to settle and for once, it didn’t feel all that bad.
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