Jungkook knows his hyung has been working hard.
It’s evident in Yoongi’s tired eyes, the way his shoulders slump an inch lower than usual, the nights he doesn’t even come home. Jungkook knows better than to worry by now - or, at least not to worry a lot . It’s not like he blames Yoongi; with his mixtape coming out this month, the dedicated fervor is to be expected. Jungkook can only imagine the kind of pressure, the stress of releasing an entire album on his own -
Well, someday he’ll put out his own mixtape. But that day is far off, and right now Yoongi’s eyes are tired underneath the knit brim of his beanie. Jungkook wishes he could help somehow, alleviate the worry that lines his hyung’s face. But he knows the stress and the late nights will only disappear once D-2 gets released. So he waits, resisting the urge to chew on the insides of his cheeks.
Acting in the music video had been fun. The size and production value of the set had impressed him, but it was exactly what the song needed, what an artist like Yoongi deserved. He remembers Jin putting a hand on his shoulder, still wearing that ridiculous fake beard. He nods towards where Jungkook has been staring for the last few minutes, over to Yoongi going over footage with the director. It’s easier to hide under costumes and make-up - that fake scar is hot, if Jungkook’s being honest with himself - but Jungkook can see the strain pulling around Yoongi’s eyes.
“He’ll be okay, Jungkookie,” Jin reassures him. “Yoongi-ya is good at this.” Jungkook leans into the hand on his shoulder.
“I know, hyung. He’s so talented and professional, I just…” Jungkook trails off, watching the rapper fiddle with the chains around his neck. Jin hums behind him.
“Maybe you should talk to him after it gets released. I bet he’d be willing to let you help him then.” There’s something else, a double meaning in Jin’s words. Jungkook tilts his head to see Jin better.
“You think so? When has Yoongi-hyung ever needed my help?” Jin chuckles, squeezing Jungkook’s shoulder.
“Talk to him afterwards, Jungkook-ah.”
So Jungkook settles in to wait. He waits through promoting in America, the postponing of the tour, and a global quarantine. With more time to work on his hobbies, Yoongi looks less stressed than he had been in the previous weeks, but Jungkook knows there’s a part of him that won’t be satisfied until D-2 is out. Jungkook waits. He watches. He wonders what Jin could have meant.
The night the mixtape is released, there’s a small party in the dorms. Inevitably, they all get a little tipsy. Hoseok’s entire face is bright red as he sinks deeper into the couch, always the lightweight. Jimin hasn’t stopped giggling for the last ten minutes, leaning heavily into Namjoon’s side. One of his hands is also conspicuously placed on Namjoon’s chest, blatantly feeling up their leader. To his credit, Namjoon seems pretty calm about it, so Jungkook isn’t too concerned. Jimin’s been known to grope unsuspecting (but not unwilling) victims when he drinks. In fact, Jungkook’s fairly certain Jimin’s done a lot more than feel up the hyungs.
They’ve all messed around with each other over the years. Hell, Jungkook’s first handjob was courtesy of Taehyung, in the bunks of their old dorm when they thought everyone else was asleep. When they had finished, Hoseok had grunted something like “be a little quieter next time.” Taehyung had laughed it off, but Jungkook had been mortified and unable to look anyone else in the eyes the next day.
As if he knows what Jungkook’s thinking about, Jin shoots him a smirk from over the rim of his glass. He’s surely a little tipsy by now, but he seems the most in control of his faculties. Jin shoots a look towards Yoongi, who’s sipping quietly from his beer. Despite getting the mixtape off his chest, Jungkook knows he’s still concerned of how it will be received. Jin waggles his eyebrows, and Jungkook’s cheeks flush.
“I should go to bed,” yawns Taehyung from the floor. “I have a thing tomorrow.” He kicks his legs up from where he lies parallel to the TV, a half-empty bottle of soju next to his hip.
“Me too,” sighs Jimin regretfully, turning to wink suggestively at Namjoon. His hand traces down Namjoon’s sternum appreciatively. Namjoon blinks, looks down at the hand on his chest, then seems to register Jimin’s words.
“Oh! Oh, um, I guess I do too?” Still giggling, Jimin drags Namjoon from the armchair and down the hall, Namjoon still looking bewildered.
“They better not break anything,” remarks Jin, before standing up as well. He helps Taehyung off the floor, then glances at Hoseok, who has fallen asleep on the couch. He sighs, then starts to herd Taehyung towards the bathroom. “Goodnight you two, don’t party too hard!” He shoots Jungkook one last look before disappearing down the hall, Taehyung in tow. Now it’s just Jungkook and Yoongi, and a snoring Hoseok. His head is at a weird angle, and Jungkook’s pretty certain that’s drool on the armrest.
“Not tired?” Jungkook’s jolted out of his study of Hoseok’s sleeping form by Yoongi’s rough voice. He’s staring at Jungkook from across the room, holding his beer with a loose grasp. Jungkook finds himself staring at the delicate lines of Yoongi’s fingers around the bottle, and swallows.
“Y-I mean, yeah. Not tired.” Yoongi grunts in acknowledgement, bringing his beer up to his lips. Oh god. Jungkook tries not to blush anymore than he already is. He remembers what Jin said, and uses the hazy tension of being tipsy to summon up his courage.
“Hyung?” Jungkook’s voice wavers at the end. Damn. Yoongi looks at him with hooded eyes, pinning Jungkook to his seat. “Do you - Could I, uh, help you? I know you’ve been stressed these past few weeks, with the mixtape and all, and I want to help, whatever that means.” For a long moment, Yoongi just stares at him, assessing. Hoseok snores in the background. Jungkook fights the urge to squirm in his seat, unused to such scrutiny from the older man. Finally, after a pause in which Jungkook thinks he might age twenty years, Yoongi nods once.
“Alright. You wanna help?” His voice is even lower than before. Jungkook swallows again, nods. Yoongi takes a final swig of his beer before standing up. Jungkook just stares up at him from his seat, still unsure of what’s going to happen next. Yoongi jerks his head towards the hallway. “Let’s use my room, yeah?” Jungkook finds himself standing, leaving behind the still-snoring Hoseok in the living room and following Yoongi into the dim hall.
Yoongi doesn’t bother turning on his room light. The shadows make the familiar room unfamiliar to Jungkook, twisting the walls into a space larger than he remembers. Turning Yoongi’s silhouette into a stranger’s.
As soon as the door is shut, Yoongi has him pressed against the doorframe, kissing him like it’s the end of the world. Jungkook squeaks in surprise, kissing back and trying to keep his head above the waves. Usually, Yoongi’s kisses are few and far inbetween, steady and sweet. A memory swims to the surface, of the night of Jungkook’s first GCF release and Yoongi kissing him in this very room, laughter and pride bubbling up between them. There’s no laughter now, when Yoongi bites into his mouth with little care.
“Hyung, ah-” Jungkook tries to ask, but Yoongi’s dragging him closer, widening the kiss and dragging him under. It’s hot, the way Yoongi has taken control, so unlike his usual intimacy. Jungkook’s sweating through his hoodie, under Yoongi’s rough hands, pressed back against the door. The urgency, the idea of being desirable to Yoongi, is making him melt.
“God, you’re so eager, huh?” Yoongi groans into Jungkook’s mouth, all teeth and tongue. Jungkook can’t help but moan in response, a small, humiliating noise from the pit of his stomach. One of Yoongi’s hands is on the waistband of his jeans, those graceful hands sliding up his stomach. There isn’t room between their bodies to be gentle or slow. Yoongi is taking, and Jungkook can’t do anything but give.
Yoongi always references his greed, his hunger in his songs, but Jungkook has never understood it until now. His hyung, quiet and determined and made of bold lines, isn’t asking permission. It’s like that shadow Yoongi warns their fans about has come out to play, holding Jungkook between his claws. He is drinking Jungkook empty, running without looking where he’s going. Jungkook just hopes he doesn’t run dry before the shadow is fed.
Before he finds his footing with his back against the door, Yoongi is moving him, pushing him towards the bed. Jungkook lands on his side with a huff, and then Yoongi is back on top of him, pulling off his own shirt before grabbing the hem of Jungkook’s hoodie. As soon as both Jungkook’s shirt and sweatshirt are removed in one swift movement, Yoongi is kissing him again, stealing away his breath. Jungkook feels like he hasn’t caught his breath since the moment Yoongi pinned him with that heavy stare back in the living room.
“I wanna, hyung can I-” Jungkook manages to squeeze the words out while Yoongi sucks a dark, almost vicious mark into the dip of his collarbones. “Can I be on the bottom?”
“Anything you want, JK.” Yoongi’s voice is muffled by Jungkook’s skin, and that sends heat spiraling its way to Jungkook’s head. Those are his collarbones in Yoongi’s mouth. It’s him in Yoongi’s bed; not Jin with his knowing looks, or Jimin with the sultry little sway to his hips, Jungkook. Jungkook, who is just trying not to drown, to make Yoongi feel good too.
He puts his hands on Yoongi’s hips, tugging his jeans down by the belt loops. Without his pants, Jungkook can see that Yoongi is half-hard through the thin fabric of his boxers.
Taking a brief moment of control, he pushes Yoongi onto his side and slides down the bed. His hands still on Yoongi’s hips, he mouths at the length of Yoongi’s cock, looking up through his lashes. Yoongi groans and shifts to lie flat against the bed, allowing Jungkook better access to his cock.
Jungkook’s only blown two people before in his life: Taehyung - they had traded equally awkward blowjobs in the old dorms, a good memory - and Namjoon - and who hasn’t blown Namjoon at this point? - which is another good memory The man is a clueless slut, but the group members love him for it. Yoongi’s got a very nice dick, but it’s very different from either Taehyung’s or Namjoon’s. With his hyung looking down at him, shoulders still tight and eyes dark, Jungkook just wants to make him feel good , just wants to help. He wants to be useful so badly .
Jungkook pulls his cock free of his boxers. His own pants feel tight, but that’s not important right now. Throwing his self-doubt out the window, Jungkook leans down to kitten-lick at the tip. Feeling braver, he takes a good inch and a half into his mouth, working a free hand up the rest of the shaft. One of Yoongi’s hands tangles itself in Jungkook’s hair, pulling softly. This just stirs Jungkook on, trying to fit more and more down his throat. It’s not like he’s had a lot of practice but his enthusiasm is making up for his inexperience, or so he hopes.
Yoongi’s quiet. He’s quiet in a lot of his life, or at least the parts Jungkook sees. It makes sense that he would be quiet during sex too. Jungkook wonders if this is what kept him and Jin from getting caught for all those years, fucking in their shared room while the rest of them remained unaware. He shoves away the uninvited splash of jealousy at the thought of Jin and Yoongi together. Jungkook searches for other signs that he’s doing well, that he’s helping. He wants to know that Yoongi likes this, wants this, wants him. He swallows probably more than he should, coming up coughing.
The hand in his hair tightens. Jungkook goes back down, fighting the urge to choke. He sinks as low as he can, tears forming in his eyes. But the hand tugs him forward, further and further. He can’t say no now, not when half of Yoongi’s cock is already down his throat. Slowly, Yoongi takes control once again, dictating how fast and how deep Jungkook goes down. There are tears running down Jungkook’s face, but his dick is still hard in his pants and he likes being pushed around like this. It’s like Yoongi doesn’t care about him, doesn’t notice his tears or his gag reflex.
“Alright, off, off,” mutters Yoongi, pulling Jungkook off his cock. “‘M gonna come if you keep that up.” Jungkook’s face is a mess of spit and cum, and god the way Yoongi talks about him. Like he’s some whore begging for a taste of Yoongi heavy cock in his mouth. It’s degrading, deliciously unintentional, and Jungkook would be lying if he said he didn’t find it hot.
Pulling him up from lying near the bottom of the bed, Yoongi pushes Jungkook underneath him once again. Jungkook stares up at Yoongi, his hair falling into his cold eyes, and tries not to whimper. In one hand, Yoongi’s holding a tube of lube. He gestures between their bodies with it.
“Do you want me to, or..?”
“Oh.” Jungkook hadn’t thought this far ahead, but the idea of Yoongi’s pianist fingers working him open… “Would you? Only if you want to.”
“Sure,” Yoongi shrugs, flicking off the cap with his thumb. With his other hand, he helps Jungkook out of his jeans and boxers. He snorts at the cloud pattern on the waistband of Jungkook’s underpants, pushing up on Jungkook’s thighs. Jungkook obediently lifts his legs over Yoongi’s shoulders, his hole fully exposed. He tries not to shiver at the first clinical touch to his ass, those familiar hands that slip inside him. God, Yoongi is fingering him open right now. He’s fairly certain there’s never been a more arousing sight in the history of being horny. Jungkook gets a sudden vision of Yoongi with that prosthetic scar from the music video, and squeezes his eyes shut.
“You’re so eager JK,” Yoongi hums nonchalantly, working a third finger in beside the first two. Jungkook wiggles at the stretch, but a hand on his hip stops him. “You want whatever I can give you, huh? Just a hungry little slut.” He punctuates his sentence with a rough thrust.
Jungkook audibly gasps when Yoongi calls him a slut. He presses into the branding touch on his hip, the way Yoongi’s eyes bore into his own. Before, he was just trying to keep his head above the water. Now, he’s trying to conserve what little air he has left. Yoongi notices his reaction, and his lips quirk into a hidden smirk. “You like that? I thought you might.”
“Hyung, please, please-” Jungkook whines, feeling both too full and too empty. “I want it. I can take it. Please, lemme-”
“Shh, okay, okay.” Yoongi sits back and pulls his fingers from Jungkook, who grunts at the sudden loss. Jungkook watches him fiddle with the bedside drawers before coming up with a condom between his fingers. Without much fanfare, Yoongi slips it on himself and lines himself up with Jungkook’s entrance.
With a shove and a gasp, Yoongi pushes inside. For a moment, time freezes. Jungkook lies on his back, hands grasping at Yoongi’s sheets and trying to remember how to breathe. He feels so full, the air punched out of his stomach. Yoongi’s hair covers his eyes again, and Jungkook can feel his body tremble as he waits for Jungkook to adjust. Sweat drips down his temple as Yoongi struggles to control his movements. Heat rises in Jungkook at the idea of Yoongi losing control inside his body, Jungkook being too wet and welcoming for Yoongi to resist. Shakily, Jungkook reaches up and puts a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. He just wants to help his hyung.
“You can go, ah!-” Without any further ado, Yoongi pulls out and thrusts back in, picking up a slow but steady rhythm that has Jungkook’s back arching off the bed. He bites down on his knuckle to keep from crying out as Yoongi fucks into him again and again. His face still hidden by his hair, it’s easy to think Yoongi doesn’t care who he’s fucking in this moment. He could be imagining anyone in his bed right now. Maybe he’d rather be fucking Hoseok. Both of them are private in nature, but Hoseok’s surprisingly fun when he gets over being a prude. Maybe he’d envisioning Jimin, with his plush lips and brazen confidence in the bedroom.
The difference is, Jungkook couldn’t imagine being with anyone else at the moment.
Yoongi could be imagining anyone besides Jungkook.
And that difference is making Jungkook hard.
Yoongi fucks him without any real regard to his pleasure. If Jungkook were to shout, to cry out, Yoongi would certainly stop and listen, but right now he’s just chasing his own high. And Jungkook’s glad of it, that Yoongi can find pleasure and release in his body.
The space between them is sticky, thick with sweat and the smell of sex. Jungkook’s back slides up the bed with each thrust, gasping when Yoongi hits closer and closer to his prostate. It feels so good for such minimal effort, for Yoongi practically ignoring him. Should it feel this good?
One particularly well-aimed thrust forces a small wail from Jungkook and a grunt of laughter from Yoongi. He leans down to kiss Jungkook again, another biting, consuming kiss. Jungkook whimpers into the kiss, dazed and dizzy. He feels Yoongi grin into the kiss. One of Yoongi’s hands taps at his hip when they break apart, panting into each other’s mouths.
“Turn over?” Yoongi asks him breathlessly. Jungkook nods, too distracted at the way the light shines off Yoongi’s lower lip to ponder what’s been asked of him. Rolling over onto his back, Yoongi pushes back into him roughly and starts up a much faster pace than before. Jungkook clutches a pillow to his chest and muffles his noises into the mattress. God, why is sex like this so good?
In this position, Jungkook can’t see Yoongi at all. He can only hear the man’s groans above him, puffs of breath and pleasure that are almost lost in the quiet of the bedroom. He also realizes Yoongi can’t see his face at all. Perhaps he was right, and Yoongi is fantasizing about some other person? What if he wanted Jungkook to turn over so he could avoid looking at his face?
The idea that he’s only a convenience, and not truly desired, sends a surprising ripple down his spine. Oh god. If Yoongi keeps hitting that spot, he’s going to cum and Yoongi won’t even care. Jungkook hugs the pillow to his chest and envisions Yoongi pulling out of him, leaving without a word to go fuck someone next door. He imagines himself lying in a pool of his own cum, wrecked and listening to Yoongi fuck someone more satisfying through the thin dorm walls. He swears he can almost hear that voice, moaning oh so prettily-
“ Oh, Yoongi, please !-”
“Hyung ‘m gonna-” Jungkook whimpers, and Yoongi shoves a hand underneath their bodies to wrap around Jungkook’s leaking cock. He speeds up in his thrusts as well, jostling Jungkook up the bed and making his ass sting. It seems like he’s close as well.
All it takes is a couple of strokes, and Jungkook is coming all over the sheets with a cry. Yoongi continues to fuck him deep, punching several loud groans from Jungkook before he pushes inside one last time and moans, coming himself. Jungkook bites his lip, lying limp on the bed with his ass in the air.
He feels drained. The sweat is drying on his back, his ass uncomfortably full as Yoongi comes inside him. He knows there’s a condom in the way, but he imagines Yoongi’s cum filling him up, about someone else finding him ass up on the bed with Yoongi’s cum leaking out of him.
With a quiet huff, Yoongi pulls out and swings his legs over the side of the bed, tying off the top and tossing it towards the trash bin.
“You good?” he asks, still catching his breath. Jungkook nods into the mattress, still face down on the bed. He’s too weak to move, still feeling the sharp aftershocks of being fucked hard. He hadn’t expected Yoongi’s apathy to turn him on so much. A hand touches him gently between the shoulder blades, so warm against his now-freezing skin.
“I’m good, hyung.” Jungkook finally rolls back over, though he doesn’t want to. Yoongi is looking at him strangely in the dim lighting. “Did you? Like it, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Yoongi murmurs. “I did. Thanks JK.” He bends down to kiss Jungkook one more time, a fleeting peck. Such a contrast to his earlier, hungry embraces that swallowed Jungkook alive. “I’m gonna get a washcloth. You gonna stay here?”
Where else would he go? Jungkook nods, staring up at his hyung with sleepy eyes. He feels like he’s melted into the bed. Yoongi seems reassured Jungkook isn’t going anywhere, pulling on a pair of shorts lying on his floor and slipping out the door. Jungkook sighs. This isn’t his bed, or his room. It’s much too messy to be his room, and the bed smells like bodywash and sex instead of Jungkook’s clean sheets. But the bed he’s in smells like Yoongi and Yoongi’s soap and the sex he just had with Yoongi, and he can’t bring himself to hate it.
By the time Yoongi comes back, padding silently with a damp cloth and a cup of water, Jungkook’s dozing off. He feels more than sees Yoongi wipe the sweat and cum from his thighs, pulling a pair of clean boxers up his legs, and climbing into the bed with him. And he’s sure he’s dreaming when he feels Yoongi brush his lips across his temple.