Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jungkook is about to surpass him again. 

Jimin lets that realization sink in as he’s standing at the edge of their campus’ sports ground, eyes fixated on Jungkook’s form, who, at the far end of the track field, is preparing for his next jump. 

The late afternoon sun is casting a golden glow over the area, burning way too hot for this time of the year, reflecting on the white metal of the standards holding the bar at an astonishing height of 16.8 feet. A height that Jimin cleared for the first time just about a week ago. 

Of course Jungkook is hot on his heels. 

Usually, Jimin would have no issues stomping over the track lanes and loudly reminding the asshole that he’s overextending his practice time again and that it’s Jimin’s turn now – today he even officially booked the slot – but something stops him from doing so, keeps him firmly grounded in his spot at the edge of the field. Watching. Waiting. Maybe it’s curiosity if Jungkook really is able to do it and the impending doom that comes with it, or maybe it’s the tiny little bit of sportsmanship inside him that makes him want to give Jungkook that final jump before interrupting him. Even from here, he can see the determination in the other’s demeanor, the tense concentration as he shakes out his legs and cracks his neck. He’s in a zone that Jimin knows all too well. A zone that comes with a tunnel vision, where all you can see is the bar in the distance, all you can feel is the pole in your hands. 

Jungkook gets in position. He’s shirtless, his tan skin shining with sweat as he begins his run-up. 

Jimin’s eyes follow every movement, the rhythmic thud of Jungkook’s sneakers on the red rubbery track-surface resonating over the field, each step building the tension inside him. Those stupid blue hair – who colors their hair blue?! – flutters in the breeze as Jungkook’s strides turn more powerful, each footfall propelling him forward with increasing speed until he reaches full sprint, the muscles in his arms flexing when he tightens his grip around the pole. Automatically, Jimin’s hold around his own pole tightens too, a small echoing jerk going through his body when Jungkook plants it into the ground and launches himself into the air with one seamless motion, the pole bending under his weight before releasing him into the sky.

Jimin finds himself holding his breath as Jungkook soars, sweat glistening like diamonds on his chest, the well-defined muscles of his arms and torso shifting as he twists mid-air, his body arching gracefully over the bar before he falls and lands safely on the thick mat on the other side with a loud thud, lying still for a moment. 

Jimin’s gaze snaps to the bar. 

It's shaking. 

The seconds tick by. 

It stills without falling down. Jungkook cleared it. 

Even though he expected it, Jimin’s chest twinges with bitterness. He’s worked his ass off for weeks to clear that height and Jungkook has already caught up to him. Soon he’ll surpass him and then it’ll be Jimin’s turn to catch up. Again. Jimin huffs and wipes the forming sweat from his forehead, cursing the sun and the heat for making it almost unbearable to simply exist these days. 

It’s been like this ever since their freshman year: Jimin and Jungkook taking turns in surpassing each other, both of them not only holding the pole vault records on their campus, but also in their district, in their region, and – since the end of last year – occupying spots in the top ten of the entire country's youth division, most likely to be recruited for pros after graduation, with Jimin currently standing at number six and Jungkook at number seven.

Well. Jimin supposes they’re technically both number six now. 

He’ll have to work harder. 

Ever since he touched a pole for the first time when he was 12, he was good at it. More than good even. He was a child prodigy and a big deal in his small town, sweeping local competitions left and right. People from his town always joked that, one day, he might represent the country in the Olympics and the thought ignited a fire in Jimin's chest from very early on. That’s what he wanted. So he trained. And trained. And trained. 

After high school he was picked for a renowned scholarship at the country’s top college for young athletes. A scholarship that’s only given to two people each year. 

And that other person happened to be Jeon Jungkook. And he happened to do pole vault too. 

In general, Jimin and Jungkook – besides sharing the same passion for the same sport – are very similar in many regards. Jungkook, being just as talented, started pole vault around the same age as Jimin, working just as hard, sweeping all his competitions too— Just on the other side of the country. 

Jimin had never heard of him before but when he learned that there would be another pole vaulter in his year on the exact same level as him, he felt— weird. He’d always been the best. Wherever he went, there was nobody who came even close. Now there was competition. And Jimin didn’t like it. 

It also didn’t help that said competition was such an arrogant asshole. 

“What do you think, Park?” Jungkook yells over the field, ripping Jimin from his thoughts. He slides off the mat, grabbing his pole before making his way towards him, a smug grin stretching his lips and the sight makes Jimin roll his eyes in annoyance. He’s really not in the mood for this. 

“Liked my jump?” The other asks when he comes to a halt in front of him. His chest is still heaving slightly and there is a flush in his face from the heat and the exertion, the ends of his blue hair wet where they’re sticking to his forehead. “I think I caught up to you, didn’t I?” 

Jimin snorts. “You’re asking as if you don’t have a chart of all my records pinned to the wall above your desk.” 

Jungkook shrugs. “Just keeping track of the competition. That’s why you’re here too, I’m guessing. Or are you simply here to admire?” He puffs out his naked chest, twisting his body from side to side, the muscles flexing under skin that’s shining with sweat. 

Jimin rolls his eyes again, mainly because he’s annoyed but also to avert his gaze. No need for a reminder that Jeon Jungkook, unfortunately, is objectively maybe kind of good looking. 

Or maybe definitely. 

Okay, yes, Jeon Jungkook is really fucking attractive. Yes, Jimin has noticed. Even though he tried his best not to notice. And now he can’t unnotice it. 

“I’m here because I booked a slot starting from six. Learn to read the schedule.”

The college made them do this when they kept getting into arguments about who gets to practice at what time, making it the dean’s issue more often than once, who at some point decided she’s had enough. So now there is a schedule available on the college’s private network, where they — as well as the few other pole vaulters on campus — could book their 1.5 hour-slots.

“I read it,” Jungkook shrugs.

“Then why the hell are you here?" 

“This is the only time I’m free today.” 

Bullshit.

“It’s Saturday.” 

“And?” 

“And you slept until noon.” 

Jungkook scoffs. “Stop stalking me.”

“We live together!” 

“That doesn’t mean my sleeping schedule is any of your business!”

“I could tell because you took your 20-minute morning dump right when I had to get ready for work.” 

“Oh please." Jungkook rolls his eyes. "You walk dogs for a job, they don’t give a fuck what you look like. There’s not much to be done about that—”  He looks him up and down. “—anyway.”

Jimin grinds his teeth, his grip around his pole tightening. If Jungkook doesn’t shut up, he’ll shove it up his ass. 

“That doesn’t change the fact that you had the whole entire day to practice, but you just had to do it during my slot.” 

“I already told you, I didn’t have time!” 

“The floodlights are fixed, you could’ve practiced tonight even!” 

Jungkook sniffs and lifts his chin. “I’m at a party tonight.” 

That has Jimin pause. 

There is no party tonight. Jimin usually knows of all the parties, he’s usually invited to all the parties, and he hasn’t heard of anything. 

“Who’s throwing one?” 

“I am.” 

Jimin gawks. “Where?!” 

“At my apartment.” 

“We live together!” 

“Stop reminding me.” 

“When were you thinking of telling me about that?!” 

Jungkook huffs. “Geez, calm down, I’m only having some friends over.” 

“Oh yeah?" Jimin grinds his teeth. "You know what, then I’m having some friends over too. I bet my party will beat the hell out of yours.” 

The other's eyes narrow. “You think you can out-host me?” 

“Easily.” 

“Bet.” 

Jimin loves feeling the wind against his skin when he soars through the air, loves the satisfaction of a perfectly executed vault. 

Today though, he can hardly focus. For the entirety of his practice, he’s so annoyingly unconcentrated and on edge that he gives up after 45 minutes.

Jungkook ruined it for him. 

With his mood getting worse and worse by the minute, Jimin drags himself to their apartment, located on the other side of campus, all across the hill, near the main parking lot.

Besides Jungkook living there with him, that parking lot is the only other downside to the place. It gets pretty busy in the morning when commuting students arrive at campus, and being woken up by the honking of cars fighting over parking spaces doesn’t make for a good start to the day, especially after a long night out. But aside from that, overall, it’s a nice building with spacious apartments. It’s modern and well looked after, since it houses most of the students with scholarships. Or the ones with rich parents, for that matter. 

Since Jimin and Jungkook are on the very same scholarship for the very same sport, the university, for some reason, thought it was a good idea to room them together. 

A horrible mistake for everyone involved. 

When Jimin comes back, he announces his arrival by slamming the front door shut as loudly as possible. Jungkook is nowhere to be seen but there is the faint sound of music coming from his room when Jimin passes it. He’s probably getting ready for his party. 

Jimin scoffs, pulling out his phone, sending off a quick message to several group chats, inviting people over.

“How many fucking people did you invite?!” Jungkook shouts at him over the music, squeezing himself past a group of girls before coming to a halt right in front of Jimin. It’s almost impossible to move in their kitchen. 

Jimin shrugs. “I don’t know, I only sent the invitation to a couple of group chats.” 

“A couple of– Are you out of your mind?! I only invited my closest friends!” 

“Well, that’s on you-hey!” He exclaims when Jungkook grabs the last can of beer that Jimin had been eyeing from the ice box. “That’s mine!”

Jungkook opens it with a pop. 

“It’s mine now,” he declares, bringing it to his lips. Before they can touch it though, Jimin is quick to try and snatch it from his hold.

“I saw it first.” 

Technically, he could wait — Hoseok and Yoongi are already out buying some more and should be back any minute — but this is a matter of principle. 

Jungkook tightens his grip around the can, yanking at it, cold liquid spilling all over their hands in the process.

“Let go, I had it first!” 

“But I saw it first!” 

“This is literally ridiculous, I-” Jungkook’s eyes widen in horror when Jimin, with one final pull, tears the can from his hold, bringing it to his mouth and licking a long stripe over the cool metal rim.

“It’s mine now.” 

The other grimaces. “Why don’t you piss all over it next time, to mark your territory?” 

Jimin shrugs. “I might.” 

At the sound of someone being violently sick right outside the kitchen door he freezes in horror before meeting Jungkook’s equally terrified expression. 

Only a moment later, the other glares at him. “You can clean that up.” 

Jimin sighs.  

“I lo–love you so much, man— You’re my bestestestestest friend—” Taehyung slurs in a hushed tone, as if he’s telling him the biggest secret. 

“You’re my bestestestestest friend, too,” Jimin chuckles, sipping on his water. It’s almost two in the morning and thankfully a lot quieter. Many people have left and the ones who’ve remained are sitting in chairs and on the ground in groups, talking and laughing. 

Taehyung leans closer, still whispering. 

“L-Listen—Lis-Listen!” He inhales deeply. “If I die before you-”

Jimin blinks in confusion. “Why would you die?!”

“Nononono— Shhhhh—,” Taehyung presses a finger to Jimin’s lips to hush him. “Listen— I’m saying if-” A tiny hiccup slips from his throat. “If I die before you one day, you—you have my per-permission to say ‘I swear on my dead homie’ and lie—” He looks around the room as if to make sure nobody is listening in before leaning even closer with an earnest expression. “Lie on my name, Jimin. I’ll be part of all your intrig-intris-intri—”

“Intrigues?” Jimin tries to help, his question muffled by the finger on his lips. 

“Yes!” Taehyung's face lights up. “Lie, my friend—” There is an urge in his voice and his finger slips from Jimin’s mouth as he falls back against the couch, sprawling out. “Lie as much as you want—” He brings his hand to his chest, placing it right above his heart, giving him a droopy smile. “This dead homie will always have your back.” 

“You’re still alive.” 

“Oh—”

“Hey! Tae! Jimin!” 

Jimin looks up at the sudden commotion, loud laughter and cheers reaching them from a group sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, right in front of the sideboard with the TV. A beer bottle is balancing dangerously close to the edge of the dark-wood furniture.

Seokjin – one of Jungkook's best friends and such a nice guy that Jimin regularly wonders how he ended up being friends with such an asshole – looks over his shoulder where he's sitting among the group, swaying a little in his spot while waving at them excitedly.

“We’re playing gay chicken!" He grins widely. "Wanna join?” 

Taehyung throws his hands in the air, cheering, and surging to his feet. Only to fall back on his ass right away. 

Jimin only frowns. “How old are you? 12?” 

“Woooow—" Taehyung wiggles his brows, his next words slurred. "Are you a gay chicken, Jiminie?” 

“I’m literally bi.” 

“Oh—" The brows stop wiggling, instead they pull into a frown. "That's an unfair advantage.” 

Jimin snorts and is just about to retort something when his best friend’s attention shifts.

"What about you, Jungkook?" 

Jungkook, who has just entered from the kitchen with an utterly tired expression on his face and a huge glass of water in his hand, frowns at them. 

"What about me?"

"Wanna play gay chicken?" Tae asks.

Jungkook's gaze grazes Jimin only briefly before he looks at the other with an amused smile.

"You know I am gay, right?" 

Tae, who clearly had forgotten about that fact – which is no secret on campus – blinks, before his eyes start snapping back and forth between Jimin and Jungkook, the gears in his drunk head visibly turning. Jimin can almost see his thoughts form, can tell the exact moment when an idea hits him, and somehow, he also knows exactly what that idea is. 

Tae's face lights up.

Oh no.

“Since you two hate each other," he points between Jimin and Jungkook with a bright smile. "You can play against each other."

For a moment it’s silent, except for the low rhythmic thump of the music, which someone thankfully turned down quite a while ago. Then the room erupts in a chorus of laughter as the proposal hangs in the air. 

"This will be your version of gay chicken," Tae continues over the commotion, sounding very proud of himself. "Hate chicken so to speak.” 

Jimin scoffs and shoots Jungkook a glance, who stares at Taehyung with an expression that’s a mix of dumbfoundedness and utter disbelief. Even though he looks pretty stupid like this, Jimin can't blame him. 

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Jungkook frowns. “Hate chicken? Seriously?” 

"What?" Taehyung sounds offended. "It's a great idea!" He looks at Seokjin and the rest of the group for support. "Right?!" 

Seokjin purses his lips to hide his grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. 

"I actually like the idea, too." 

“It’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard,” Jungkook snaps, glaring at him. 

“You can’t play otherwise,” Tae points out. “Being gay disqualifies you from gay chicken. So hate chicken it is for you.”

“I never said I wanna play any games to begin with.”  

“Why? Because you’re a chicken?” Someone asks from the floor, causing the rest of the group to snicker.

“Yeah,” someone else adds. “I don’t see Jimin complaining.” 

Suddenly, all eyes are on Jimin, Jungkook’s narrowing as he stares him down, and Jimin quickly sits up tall, his neck flushing from suddenly being at the center of attention.

“I don’t wanna play either.” 

It's a stupid idea. A horrible idea. It’s disgusting. Just the thought of—of being close to Jungkook like that— Somehow, Jimin starts feeling overly hot when he imagines Jungkook’s hands on him, when he imagines their faces unnaturally close, their lips brushing-

He surges to his feet, making everyone in the room jump.  

“I was actually on my way to start cleaning the kitchen anyway,” he blurts, trying to look and sound nonchalant and not like someone who just imagined kissing Jeon Jungkook.

He doesn’t make it far though. Only one step in and Taehyung is right next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder, almost making him stumble and fall from his swaying weight. 

“Come on, Jiminie! It’ll be fun!”

Jimin throws him a glare. “For you maybe.” 

Apparently, his best friend’s enthusiasm is contagious, because soon the rest of their friends, including Seokjin, join in, a choir of voices chanting: “Hate chicken! Hate chicken!” The noise level increases and Jimin’s cheeks burn with heat.

“Guys, this is ridiculous,” he protests, trying to shove Taehyung off, who only tightens his hold around him. 

“Think about it,” he slurs with a sly grin, leaning in. “It would be the perfect opportunity to show Jungkook who’s boss.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “I don’t need some silly game to do that.” 

He looks up at the sudden loud snort ringing through the room. Jungkook has put his glass of water aside, his arms crossed now, that stupid white shirt stretching over his stupid wide shoulders. He trails his eyes over the length of Jimin’s body, the weight of his gaze like a physical touch. His expression, a mix of arrogance and something challenging, stirs a familiar kind of anger inside Jimin. 

“You? Show me who’s boss? That’s rich.” 

The tone of Jungkook’s voice grates on Jimin’s nerves and his jaw clenches.

“You think you better than me?” He growls. 

“Obviously.” Jungkook lifts his chin. “I’d like to see you try and outdo me in anything.” 

A surge of frustration boils up deep inside Jimin’s chest at the utter bullshit spewing from the other’s mouth. 

“I’m literally outdoing you in pole vault on the regular.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, the air getting a little cold and tense as the other's exchange worried glances. Everyone knows this is dangerous territory and before Jungkook can retort anything – Jimin can already see the snide remark dancing on his lips – Seokjin gets to his feet and steps between them.

“Okay, look— I get that you guys sometimes don’t see eye to eye but-”

“That’s because he’s too short to do so,” Jungkook points out and someone in the room chuckles.  

Jimin sees red. Shaking Taehyung’s arm off, he surges forward. “Okay, you know what-” 

His best friend yanks him back with an arm around his neck, keeping him pinned in place. 

“Guys—” Taehyung sways a little. “Arguing about pole vaulting is one thing, but I think you’re forgetting the real competition here.” 

“Which would be?” Jimin glares at him and for a moment, the other looks confused that Jimin doesn't seem to remember. 

“Hate chicken, obviously.” 

Jimin groans. “I’m not playing that stupid game.” 

His best friend doesn’t waste any time and starts fanning the flames again. 

“Why not? Don’t tell me you’re actually scared of playing against Jungkook?” 

“Scared?” The laugh flying out of Jimin’s mouth is sharp. “Please. I could handle anything that limp dick throws at me.” 

“Limp dick?!” Jungkook sounds ridiculously scandalized and when Jimin looks at him, his expression matches the part. 

“What? Did I hit a nerve?” 

“If anyone’s a limp dick, it’s you! You’d stand no chance against me!”

Jimin scoffs. “I would totally win that game.”

“You’d totally lose.” 

“I would not.”

“Well,” Taehyung interjects from beside Jimin. “Only one way to find out.” 

From the corner of his eyes, Jimin sees Seokjin running a hand through his hair, with an amused but somewhat nervous smile on his lips. He’s clearly torn between trying to diffuse the tension and staying silent to egg them on. The other people in the room, instead of worried, now seem rather entertained by the impending drama. 

The fact irritates Jimin. 

“I’m not playing your stupid game, Tae,” he snaps. “It’s childish.”

“Scared, Park?” 

He shifts his gaze back to Jungkook with a scowl and he really wants to punch that stupid face when he’s met with the familiar sight of arrogance and the challenging tilt of chin.

“I already said I’m not scared, Jeon. I just don’t need a stupid game to prove myself.” 

“Sounds like someone who’s scared.” 

Jimin raises his brows. “Don’t tell me you wanna play. Got something to tell me?”

That has the other throw his head back with a laugh. 

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he chuckles. “That game would be over in seconds.”

“Yeah, over for you.” 

“You really think you could make me cower? Laughable.” 

Jimin takes a step forward, before the pressure of Taehyung’s arm around his neck makes him stop once more. “You’d stand no fucking chance.” 

Jungkook rolls his stupid eyes and Jimin’s entire body vibrates with anger. 

“You're all talk, Park, nothing more.” 

“Okay, you know what,” Jimin snaps. “Since you wanna be humbled so badly— Fine. Let’s play that stupid game.”  He crosses his arms. “Unless you’re too chicken.” 

Jungkook smirks. “Get ready to lose, Park.” 

Several cheers ring through the room and Taehyung takes a step back, clapping his hands. 

“Oh, this is going to be legendary! The battle of the century!”

“Alright, the rules are simple,” Taehyung declares, trying to sound as official as possible. He seems a little more sober now but he still has to clutch Seokjin’s shoulder to keep himself from toppling over. “No backing down, no complaining. The first one to give up or show discomfort loses.” 

“What about throwing up?” Jimin mutters.

Why the hell did he agree to this?

Right now, he’s sitting on the floor, right opposite to Jungkook. The rest of the group has arranged themselves in a circle around them, tension hanging in the air as everyone eagerly awaits the spectacle that’s about to happen. The weight of the situation has Jimin’s stomach churn with a mix of raw nerves and determination. This challenge will be the talk on campus for weeks, no doubt. 

“That would count as showing discomfort, I guess,” Taehyung answers.

“If you throw up on me, I’m gonna kill you, Park.” 

At least, Jungkook looks just as much on edge as Jimin feels. He has his arms crossed and the tension in his shoulders is visible, his fingers tapping nervously against his bicep.

Jimin cocks his head to the side. “You look nervous, Jeon. Final chance to back out.” He smiles innocently. “That would mean you’d lose, of course.” 

There are low “Ohhh—”s and brief whistles coming from around them. 

Despite the nervous thrumming of his fingers, the other’s lips lift in a dangerous, self-assured smirk. An expression that has Jimin’s eye twitch. 

“I’m gonna win.” 

“Alright, has everyone placed their bets?” Seokjin asks before Jimin can retort anything, shaking the cereal bowl filled with neatly folded written notes. “Last chance.” 

“Man, this is hard,” someone mumbles. 

With a strain in his jaw, Jimin follows the bowl with his eyes as it’s handed around the circle once more. He hopes for everyone involved that all those notes say his name because he’s going to fucking win this. 

After the final bets have been placed, the room falls into silence.

“Okay—” Taehyung giggles, clearly having the time of his life and Jimin will totally kick his ass for this later. “Let the game begin!” 

His attention sharpens on Jungkook, who maintains that irritating self-assured grin. Jimin’s heartbeat quickens with nerves as the other uncrosses his arms, apparently ready to make the first move. Jimin knows Jungkook’s strategies well— quick and surprising, meant to throw Jimin off, to force him into making mistakes. But Jimin won’t let that happen. Quickly, before Jungkook can actually do anything to catch him off guard, he gets on his hands and knees, ignoring the whistles around him as he crawls towards the other, the wooden floor hard underneath his palms. 

Surprise flickers across Jungkook’s face, but it’s quickly replaced by a calculating expression, his eyes narrowing as he watches Jimin crawling closer and closer. 

It’s only a short distance to cross, but to Jimin it seems like an eternity until he finally comes to a halt right in front of Jungkook. With a daring move, he puts his hands on the other’s thighs, feeling the solid muscles shift against his palms. Leaning in, he brings their faces dangerously close, noticing details he’s never paid attention to before. Individual eyelashes, sprinkles of light brown in dark irises—

He digs his fingers into the other’s legs, causing Jungkook’s brow to twitch ever so slightly. 

Jimin grins provocatively. “Nervous?” 

The taunt has Jungkook’s jaw tighten, followed by an annoyed click of tongue. 

“You’re wasting time.” 

Then Jimin is suddenly grabbed by his upper arms and pulled into Jungkook’s lap with a single smooth motion. 

The fact that he can’t stifle a gasp annoys Jimin, just like it annoys him how effortlessly Jungkook maneuvers him around, forcing him into a position so that Jimin is straddling him. It also annoys him how alarmingly well he fits into Jungkook’s lap. Before he can dwell on the fact though, he finds himself face to face with an overly smug smile. 

“Ready to give up?” 

Jimin grits his teeth, irritation bubbling under his skin as he tries to maintain his composure. He ignores the warmth of Jungkook’s body beneath him, ignores the subtle tension in the air and the charged atmosphere. His hands, which are now on Jungkook’s shoulders, tighten, fingers curling in the fabric of the other’s shirt. 

“Never,” he grits out and Jungkook simply raises an eyebrow, his gaze locked onto Jimin’s with an intensity that sends a hot shiver down Jimin’s spine.

The room has fallen into hushed silence, the atmosphere tense. 

When Jungkook shifts beneath him without a warning, the sudden movement almost throws Jimin off balance, and instinctively, at an attempt to hold on, he wraps his arms around the other’s neck, bringing their faces even closer. 

Another wave of whistles and low cheers sounds through the room, everyone thinking it was a daring move on Jimin’s part to take the upper hand, in reality however, Jimin startled himself with it too, and he can tell Jungkook knows from the way the other’s grin sharpens. 

“Getting uncomfortable already?” 

The smugness in his tone is so infuriating that Jimin can hear the grinding of his own teeth when he clenches his jaw. It almost distracts him from the way Jungkook’s breath is tickling his lips. Almost.

He scoffs, tightening his hold around Jungkook’s neck as he brings his lips to the other’s ear, pressing their chests together. Like this, surrounded by the woodsy scent of that ridiculously expensive shampoo Jungkook always uses, Jimin can feel the other’s heartbeat, annoyingly calm and even. 

“It needs more than that to make me uncomfortable, Jeon,” he murmurs and makes sure that his lips brush the other’s ear while doing so. 

Momentarily, Jungkook stiffens, but before Jimin can even start feeling the slightest hint of victory, a low chuckle vibrates against his chest. His breath gets caught in his throat when hands find his waist, sliding down to his hips. Jungkook turns his head to press his own mouth to Jimin’s ear. 

“Is that so?” 

His voice is low and somewhat rough, a kind of tone Jimin has never heard from him before, and for some reason, it throws him off guard. At the sensation of teeth nipping his earlobe, his breath hitches in surprise. Embarrassingly loud.

“Jimin, stay strong!” A random voice speaks up from the circle around them. “I need that money!” 

The encouragement shakes him out of it and bolsters his resolve. Ignoring yet another nip at his ear, he unwraps his arms from Jungkook’s neck and slides his hands down between their chests instead. He leans back a little to give himself more room, just in time to see Jungkook’s lips part when Jimin’s fingertips brush over his nipples, the nubs poking up from underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. 

Oh?

Jimin tilts his head curiously.  “Enjoying yourself or why are your nipples hard?”

The other’s eyes widen when Jimin tweaks them, accompanied by a wave of hollering and cheering from the onlookers. The commotion seems to annoy Jungkook because merely a heartbeat later his eyes narrow, a jolt going through his body as his hand finds its way to Jimin’s head, fingers curling in his hair right above his nape. 

And then Jimin’s head is yanked back so roughly, that he can’t keep the startled sound from leaving him. The roughness has his belly throb and his toes curl and with his throat exposed like this, Jungkook can surely see the flush that’s now traveling from Jimin’s cheeks all the way down to his chest. Suddenly, the room feels a lot hotter and every inch of skin on his body is positively burning up when Jungkook buries his face right against the side of his neck. 

Jimin’s mind blanks, the whistles and cheers drowned out. There is only the sensation of hot lips pressing against his equally heated skin, the sensation of the wet tongue that follows immediately after, the light pain when his skin is sucked between teeth— His fingers curl in the other’s shirt at a rather harsh bite, leaving him breathless. His lips part in an attempt to get some air, and after the first deep breath he finally realizes—

That motherfucker is leaving a fucking hickey! 

The squeak that leaves him is something he’ll forever be embarrassed about, but at this moment in time he doesn’t care. He slaps against Jungkook’s chest, pushing him off, and when they come face to face, he’s horrified by how good the other looks with his lips all red from sucking on Jimin’s neck. The horror increases when said lips slowly curl into a grin, Jungkook’s hand falling from Jimin’s hair. 

“You lost.”

“What?” Jimin frowns. 

Jungkook’s grin widens. “You couldn’t handle it and pushed me off. You lost.” 

The room is silent and Jimin’s face is still burning hot. 

Shit. 

He totally forgot that they were playing this stupid game and unfortunately the asshole is kind of right, he got startled because— 

The heat in his cheeks increases by tenfold. 

Because this kind of turned him on. 

Oh God. 

Jimin wants nothing more than to disappear into the ground. 

There is no way he just lost this ridiculous game because he got all hot and bothered by—by Jungkook, in front of all these people.

His frustration grows, slowly turning into a familiar kind of anger at the sight of the annoying dickhead’s smug smile. 

Refusing to admit defeat, he glares at the other and lifts his chin, his next words loud in the silent room. 

“I didn’t give up.” 

“But you pushed me off, so-”

“I only pushed you off to do this.” 

Without a second thought he grabs Jungkook’s face and slams their lips together. A move that surely will secure him the right to keep on playing. 

The overall shock is evident in the way collective gasps ring around the room, as well as in the way Jungkook tenses against him, his lips stiff and unmoving.

A couple of seconds tick by. 

Then the room erupts in a literal roar. 

“Yes, Jimin, show him!” 

“Come on, Jungkook, stand your ground!” 

“Don’t back down!” 

That seems to shake the other out of it. His lips soften and he moves his mouth against Jimin while his hands find Jimin’s waist again, large palms fitting around the narrow curves there perfectly, and the way his fingers dig into Jimin’s skin sends a hot shiver down Jimin’s spine. 

Shit, what the hell? Jungkook is way too good at this. At touching him. At touching him just the way he likes it. And at kissing too, for that matter. 

It’s just lips, Jimin tries to tell himself. Get it together. It doesn’t matter that it’s Jungkook’s lips. It doesn’t matter that Jungkook is overly confident with it now, not hesitating in the slightest. It doesn’t matter that Jungkook’s lips are warm and that his movements are slow, but also hard and sensual. 

Without really noticing, Jimin lets his hands slide from the other’s cheeks, wrapping his arms around his neck instead, pressing closer. When a tongue flicks over his bottom lip, he opens his mouth without really noticing too. 

Jungkook tastes of sugar and mint and his tongue is soft and hot and overwhelming. Heat pools in Jimin’s groin and he hates how he, at a bite into his lower lip, melts into the other with a hitch of breath, hates even more that Jungkook notices, evident in the way he bites his lip again, tugging at it gently, before deepening the kiss, their mouths making smacking noises that Jimin would be utterly embarrassed by if he wouldn’t be preoccupied with trying to keep his sanity intact. 

Large hands wander from his waist to his ass, grabbing him there, pulling him in with a hefty squeeze that goes straight to Jimin’s cock, making him grind his hips forward mindlessly. 

Fuck, that felt good. Like, the he-would-do-anything-for-Jungkook-to-do-that-again kinda good.

Suddenly, there’s a rush in his ears, suddenly, he’s all breathless, gasping into the other’s mouth, and he notices Jungkook’s breath is coming short too, notices that the other’s heart is beating faster now, hammering against Jimin’s chest. 

He lets his hand wander to the back of Jungkook’s head, grabbing a fistful of hair, yanking at it while pulling Jungkook’s face closer, their kiss a little clumsy and wet now, somehow desperate. 

He barely notices the other lifting his hand from his ass, which is why the sudden slap that follows startles him so much.

It stings, even through his pants, the noise of impact loud in the room, and it drives Jimin forward with a surprised gasp, the sharp inhale muffled by Jungkook’s lips. His eyes fly open – when did he close them? – as his groin ruts into Jungkook’s and the pressure is so delicious that his brain fizzles out of his ears. He can’t stop himself. He moans into Jungkook’s mouth and Jungkook makes this little answering sound at the back of his throat, a breathless groan, before he ruts his hips up into Jimin’s again. 

The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat hits Jimin over the head like he was just clocked with a baseball bat. 

It’s almost disorienting when time and clarity rushes back in and the same seems to happen to Jungkook, because the moment Jimin freezes, so does the other, and they both yank back at the same time. 

What the fuck? 

They stare at each other and it’s almost comical to watch Jungkook’s face go entirely red within seconds before he wipes his swollen lips with the back of his hand. Jimin would laugh, but unfortunately, he’s not doing any better. Burning heat is replaced by a burning kind of cold that washes over him, icy needles pricking his skin with terror. 

He blinks and looks around, staring into faces that mirror his shocked expression.

Oh shit. He totally forgot their idiot friends were watching. 

“Uhhh—” Seokjin is the first to speak up, his expression a mix of amused and utterly horrified. “Yeah, you definitely just made us all uncomfortable.” He clears his throat. “Good job, guys, I would say—ugh—” He looks at Taehyung, who looks positively scandalized, his eyes darting back and forth between Jimin and Jungkook. “A tie? Tae? What do you think?” 

The other opens and closes his mouth, before he simply nods. 

Jimin narrows his eyes. A tie? With Jungkook? Hell no! 

“No fucking way,” he blurts before turning to Jungkook, grabbing his face again. “I’m gonna win this.” 

“Actually,” Jungkook starts, his words muffled by his cheeks being squished. “You already lost when you were a chicken and pushed me away earlier.” 

“I wasn’t a chicken!” 

“Sounds like something a chicken would say.” 

Jimin will absolutely fucking murder this asshole. With his stupid flushed cheeks and his pretty—stupid swollen lips. Jungkook licks them absentmindedly and something about the sight of his tongue makes Jimin’s dick twitch in interest. 

What the actual fuck?

“I’m not a chicken,” Jimin growls. “I’m not done yet!” 

“Say what you want, Park.” 

Jimin yelps when he’s shoved off the other’s lap rather rudely, tumbling to the floor. 

“My job here is done,” Jungkook declares as he gets up to his feet. “Good night, everyone.” 

And with that he stomps out of the living room, people scattering to the side to let him through. Jimin stares after him, sitting on the floor awkwardly, hoping to God that in this position nobody notices the semi he’s sporting. 

The next morning, when Jimin stumbles out of his room after only for hours of sleep, he’s greeted by the aftermath of the party strewn across their apartment. He groans as he makes his way down the hallway and to the living room, which reminds him more of a battlefield than anything else. Empty cans and bottles, discarded snack wrappers, and empty pizza boxes litter every possible surface. 

Jungkook, of course, is nowhere to be seen. His keys are also missing. 

Jimin huffs.

“Fucking dickhead,” he mutters as he slams an empty cup into the trash before he, fueled by frustration, sets to work cleaning up the whole mess.

It takes him quite a while. Basically, the entire day is a haze of cleaning, with Jimin unable to shake off the memories of Jungkook and that stupid game they played. He can hardly concentrate on anything else, his mind replaying the events of the party and the feeling of Jungkook’s hands on him, his lips, the little sounds he made— Jimin’s face burns hot at the memory of that one slap specifically and his own sounds. He might’ve been slightly drunk back then but that doesn’t excuse the fact that he so obviously enjoyed Jungkook’s touches. Jungkook, who then left him there on the fucking floor, all smug and convinced that he beat Jimin at that stupid game. 

When evening rolls around, Jungkook finally emerges through the front door, letting it fall shut behind him loudly. When he steps into the living room, Jimin glares at him from his spot on the couch, immediately seething at the sight of Jungkook being dressed in sweatpants and carrying his sports bag, which he drops carelessly on the floor next to the sideboard. Apparently, he’s been practicing all day while Jimin wasted his time cleaning the damn apartment.    

Fucking asshole.

Jimin puts down the bowl of pasta he’s been eating, sitting up tall, not wasting a second to launch into a tirade against the other. 

“You know, usually people actually clean up after their party.” 

Jungkook halts in his movements, looking over his shoulder with an infuriatingly bored expression. “It was your party. And you cleaned. I don’t see a problem here.” 

“It was your party, too!” 

“You invited most of the people.” 

Jimin grinds his teeth and the other only shrugs, disappearing into the kitchen, followed by the clanking sounds of pots and pans. It doesn’t take long though, for Jungkook to stomp back into the living room, fists balled when he comes to a halt in the doorway.

“You changed the cleaning schedule to only me next week!” 

Jimin grabs his bowl of pasta again, leaning back into the couch cushions. 

“Yes, because I did all the work today.” He pushes a forkful into his mouth and chews slowly, fixing his attention on the TV screen, where some kind of nature documentary is running that he hasn’t been paying attention to. 

“I don’t get why you’re so worked up about a few cups and plates,” Jungkook scoffs. 

Jimin shoots him a withering glare. “A few cups and plates? It was a mountain of trash, Jeon! It was like a post-apocalyptic wasteland in here!” 

“Dramatic much?” 

“God, just shut up,” Jimin groans, stabbing his pasta with his fork. “I’m really not in the mood right now to deal with your—" He looks the other up and down. "—with your cognitive vacancy. Just do the cleaning next week and we’re good.”

It takes comically long for Jungkook to answer.

“You saying I’m dumb?" He’s wearing a deep frown, looking somewhat confused. 

Jimin snorts. “Ding ding ding, winner!” 

“Oh—” The corners of Jungkook’s mouth twitch into a grin and he crosses his arms while leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. “So you’re admitting that I won?” 

It takes only a heartbeat for Jimin to understand what he’s talking about. Immediately, heat flares up in his face. 

Why the hell would he mention that?! And why the hell is he still so convinced that he won, even though that’s clearly not the case. 

He glares at the other, setting the fork down into the bowl. “You still think you won that stupid game?”

A glint lights up Jungkook’s eyes. “Well, I wasn’t the one who chickened out, was I?”

“I didn’t chicken out either. If anything, it was a tie.” 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “A tie? That’s just a fancy way of admitting defeat. Just say it, Park. I won.” 

“You did not win.” 

With a satisfied smirk, the other turns around and makes his way back into the kitchen. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

Jimin has been pacing outside the bathroom for what feels like an eternity. He only went to his room to change for like three minutes and when he came back to the bathroom, the door was locked and the shower was running. Fucking Jeon Jungkook. He’s been in there for almost half an hour now, the clock is ticking and the movie Jimin is supposed to meet up with some of his friends for is drawing closer. He has to be at the theater in about 45 minutes and he still needs to style his hair. His fucking phone is also still in there. 

With a huff of frustration, he bangs at the bathroom door for the fifth time. He swears to God, if there’s nothing but another “fuck off” from the other side, he’ll fucking riot. 

“Jeon, seriously?! I’m gonna be late! Open the fuck up!” 

To his surprise, the lock is turned this time and the door creaks open. Jungkook looks down at him, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. 

Jimin’s mouth goes dry at the sight of naked skin and he makes a point not to let his eyes follow the water droplets that make their way from the other’s wet hair over his neck and down that well-sculpted torso. 

“What?” The other asks, sounding unimpressed. 

“You’ve been in there for over half an hour,” Jimin seethes before pushing himself past Jungkook’s wet body. “Get out of my way.” 

The air in the bathroom is warm and humid, the mirror still fogged up and totally unusable for styling one's hair. Jimin groans inwardly, his fingers twitching in annoyance. 

“Is that a way to talk to your superiors?” Jungkook asks behind him. 

“Excuse me?” Jimin turns around. Who does that asshole think he is? 

“I’m just saying—” The other shrugs. “I’ve never gotten any reward for winning that game the other day, except for a week of cleaning duty.” 

Not that again. 

“You did not win that game,” Jimin says, rolling his eyes. “Now get lost, I’m trying to get ready.”  He wipes over the fogged-up mirror, grimacing at the wetness on his palm. 

“Still being a sore loser?” 

“I was practically willing to keep playing, and you walked away.” He throws Jungkook a look through the mirror. “Like a chicken, one might say.” 

The other raises an eyebrow, stepping up next to Jimin, reaching for the blow dryer. “So now you’re saying you won? That’s rich.” 

“Well, I definitely didn’t lose.” Jimin turns to look the other up and down. “What the hell do you think you're doing? Can I get, like, five minutes to get ready in peace?” 

Jungkook frowns at him before plugging in the blow dryer. “I have to get ready too, I need to be at the movies in like half an hour.” 

Wait a minute. 

“You’re coming to the movies, too?!” 

They stare at each other and Jungkook blinks. “Seokjin asked me to go. Together with Namjoon, Yoongi-”

“Hoseok and Tae?” Jimin finishes for him and watches a slow scowl forming on the other’s face. 

“Great. Just great,” Jungkook mutters. “Well, at least you can treat me to some popcorn then for winning.” 

The blow dryer starts howling before Jimin can retort anything, clearly an attempt to silence him. 

He grits his teeth, reaching across the sink to pull the plug, putting an end to the noise. 

“What the hell?!”

“I’ll say it one last time: You. Did. Not. Win,” Jimin hisses, jabbing his finger into the other’s naked chest. “You chickened out and walked away and nothing's gonna change that, so stop spewing bullshit.” He lets the plug clatter into the empty sink and turns towards the mirror again. “You’re so fucking insufferable.” He reaches for his hair spray. 

“Why the hell are you so hung up on this?” 

“I’m hung up?!” Jimin snorts. “You are the one who can’t stop mentioning it! Like, try to win at something that actually matters and then we can talk.” 

“So you’re admitting that I won.”

Jimin slams the hairspray on the vanity loudly, turning to face the other “You fucking lost, Jeon. Deal with it. You couldn’t take the heat and backed off with your tail between your fucking legs. And then you hid at practice the entire day because you couldn’t fucking face me.” 

He’s actually surprised when a hint of redness spreads on Jungkook’s cheeks. 

“That’s bullshit.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

“I left because I had long won and didn’t wanna waste my time.” He lifts his chin. “I could take anything you throw at me, Park. That was literally nothing.” 

Jimin barks out a laugh. “You sure about that? I didn’t even get started and you seemed pretty flustered to me.” 

The other’s eyes narrow. “If anyone was flustered it was you.” He takes a step closer, dragging his gaze over the length of Jimin’s body. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you getting into it.” 

Jimin scoffs, ignoring the heat in his face. “Don’t flatter yourself, I was merely playing the game.”

“Oh, so you didn’t enjoy getting your ass slapped?” 

Jimin almost chokes on his own spit. “That–That was a pathetic excuse for a slap—I barely felt it.”

Jungkook stares him down, his jaw working. There is something defiant in his expression, something competitive. An expression Jimin knows all too well. But there is also something heated. That’s new. 

“Is that right?” Jungkook sets down the blow dryer without taking his eyes off Jimin and then he steps even closer, somehow managing to turn them around so he’s crowding Jimin against the vanity. Suddenly, Jimin becomes overly aware of the fact that Jungkook is half naked. And is it his imagination or did the humid air just get even warmer and heavier?

“So you made all those cute little noises because of a ‘pathetic’ slap?” Without giving Jimin a chance to respond, Jungkook leans even closer, their faces now mere inches apart. Jimin’s back presses against the sink, the cool surface in his back doing little to ease the warmth spreading all across his skin. 

“You kept rubbing yourself on me because you ‘barely felt it’?” Junkook’s gaze drops to Jimin’s lips and Jimin’s breath catches before he grinds his teeth, annoyance battling with the pulse of something else. 

“As I said, I was merely playing the game. And then you chickened out before I could even bring out the big guns.”

Only when the corners of Jungkook’s mouth twitch does Jimin realize that he’s been staring at his lips. He tears his gaze away.

“The big guns?” The other laughs, eyes sparkling with something dangerous. “And what would those be, Park?” 

Jimin’s belly swoops for some reason.

“Aren’t you curious?” He huffs. 

“Well, kind of. What do you know about big guns?” 

“What do you know about them?” 

Instead of answering, Jungkook suddenly Jungkook grabs him by his wrist, yanking his hand forward and pressing it right into his crotch. 

Jimin gasps and freezes, his mouth going impossibly dry. 

What the fuck?

The first thing he realizes is how soft the towel feels under his palm. (Why the hell are Jungkook’s towels so much softer than his?!) The next thing he realizes is—Jungkook is wearing only a towel. And what lies underneath that towel is very hot. And definitely half hard. And Jimin is touching it. Through the towel. The super fucking soft towel. But he’s still definitely touching it. 

Oh God. 

It feels like all oxygen has evacuated the room and his heart starts pounding so hard that he can hear it in his ears, sudden arousal floating around in his stomach like an inflated beach ball floating around in a kiddie pool. 

Slowly, he drops his gaze. 

Something about the sight of his hand covering the outline of Jungkook’s cock brings the wetness back into his dry mouth, drool pooling under his tongue. 

Holy shit. 

He swallows thickly. Yeah, he would definitely lose that kind of ‘big gun’-contest. And it fucking annoys him. 

When his gaze snaps back up, he’s met with parted lips and heavy eyes, the tips of Jungkook’s ears a little red. When did his face get this close? 

“Too much for you to handle?” The other asks, licking his lips, and Jimin follows the movement, still at a loss for words. “Ready to chicken out again?” 

Jimin’s mouth moves before his brain has even caught on to the situation. 

“I didn’t chicken out back then and I won’t chicken out now.” 

Without even thinking twice he increases the pressure of his hands, curling his fingers slightly around the length, rubbing his palm up and down, watching Jungkook’s eyelids flutter as his cock grows harder.

“Unless me touching your dick is too much for you to handle, Jeon?” 

The other wets his lips once more. “Technically, you’re not really touching it.” 

“Not yet,” Jimin mumbles, somehow leaning in while doing so. 

Jungkook’s breath is hot on his lips when he answers. 

“Not yet.” 

Before Jimin can react, his lips are captured in a bold kiss that – even though he kind of expected it – comes surprisingly fierce, Jungkook’s mouth demanding in a way that catches Jimin off guard. The world seems to tilt on its axis for a moment and a spark of something burning hot ignites in the pit of his stomach. 

There’s no resistance from the hold around his wrist when he slides his hand from Jungkook’s length to the hem of the towel, hooking his fingers under it, yanking on it twice, the movement jerking Jungkook forward, before the towel loosens, dropping to the ground between their feet. 

Jungkook’s breath shudders into Jimin’s mouth when Jimin takes hold of his cock, now fully hard and overwhelmingly hot, and Jimin takes great pleasure in the way the other plants both palms on the vanity behind Jimin for support, his hips giving tiny ruts when Jimin start sliding his hand up and down the hot length with a flick of wrist. 

Their kiss is deep and instense and it's slowly distracting Jimin from the fact that he's giving Jeon fucking Jungkook a fucking handjob right now.

They kiss until Jimin’s lips feel bruised, Jungkook’s breathing growing harder and harder, and when the first drop of wetness runs over Jimin’s thumb, the other pulls back. Jimin really wants to make a snide remark about how ridiculously deep the flush on his cheeks is, how red his stupid lips are from kissing, but all insults he can think of are something along the lines of ‘pretty’, and stroking Jungkook’s ego is literally the last thing he wants to do. 

The other’s eyes travel over his face while he lifts his hand, his fingers grazing the column of Jimin’s neck. And then, without any warning, his hand snaps around Jimin’s throat, gripping tight enough for Jimin to gasp in surprise, a hot shiver running down his spine. 

Jungkook’s lips twitch into a knowing smile. 

“Get on your knees.” 

Jimin’s eyes narrow. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Jungkook’s smile grows wider at his outrage. “Why? Wanna chicken out?” 

Jimin snaps his mouth shut, glaring at him. 

Oh, he’s so gonna bring that jerk back down from his fucking power trip. 

He slaps the other’s hand away from his throat, before pushing him back, and kneels down in front of him, the stupid soft towel at least somewhat cushioning his knees from the hard tiles. 

Coming face to face with Jungkook’s cock nearly makes him choke on his tongue. From down here, this close, Jimin must admit that it’s not just big, it’s annoyingly beautiful too, framed by the V-shaped cut in his abs. 

“Are you done staring, or-”

“Shut up,” Jimin growls and before the other can spout more orders out of his stupid fucking mouth, he takes hold of his flushed cock and licks a fat stripe over the underside of the warm and silky soft flesh, before parting his lips and taking it fully in his mouth, determined to catch the other off guard. 

Jungkook sucks in a sharp breath of surprise that fills Jimin with wicked glee. He doesn’t waste any time. The hot length throbs in his mouth when he lets it glide deeper, lets it stretch his lips, until it hits the back of his throat. 

Holy fuck. He really has Jeon Jungkook’s dick in his mouth. 

Fingers tangle in his hair, trying to take a hold of him. 

“Shit, Park, I didn’t say-” 

Jungkook’s words are cut off, replaced by a strangled moan when Jimin flattens his tongue and relaxes his throat, swallowing Jungkook’s cock all the way down until his nose presses into the other’s groin. 

Jimin fights his gag-reflex, tears lining his lids when he looks up at the other who stares down at him with awe in his eyes and something a little bit insane. His chest is rising and falling heavily, his thighs flexing where Jimin’s hands are holding on, and he groans deeply when Jimin slowly draws back, taking hold of the length with his hand again, flicking his tongue over the tip, tasting salt.

“Hah,” Jungkook chuckles breathlessly. “Who would’ve thought that mouth is good for something other than spitting disrespect in my face?” 

Jimin just glares at him, long and hard, before he takes him back in his mouth, hollowing his cheeks, and getting to work. 

He’ll make sure to shut that fucking dumbass up for good. 

He uses his mouth and tongue and hands, bopping his head up and down, wrapping his fingers around the base of Jungkook’s length that his mouth doesn’t reach like this. Every now and then, he flicks his tongue over the head. 

This is probably the most effort he’s ever put into a blowjob. 

The discomfort of the strain in his jaw and neck is overshadowed by the delectable noises that Jungkook at some point starts making. Loud rhythmic gasps and silent moans that send wave after wave of heat through Jimin’s stomach. 

Soon, the other’s grip in his hair tightens while he leans forward, placing his other hand on the vanity behind Jimin, rutting his hips. 

“God—” 

Jimin can tell from the trembling in Jungkook's thighs and the tightening of his fingers in Jimin’s hair that he’s close and he absolutely loves the fact. He is the one in control here. And Jungkook is losing control. Because of Jimin. This all happens on Jimin’s terms. He wonders what Jungkook would do if he would pull away now. Would he get angry? Would he cry? The thought almost makes Jimin laugh.

Like this, he can’t see the other’s face, can only kneel there and let Jungkook fuck into his mouth while he bobs his head and moves his hand, pulling more and more of those sweet sounds from the other. 

He wants Jungkook to lose control more. 

By now, his own cock is straining hard against the tight jeans he’s wearing. It’s almost painful and he wants to touch himself so badly, but both of his hands are preoccupied with jerking Jungkook off in tandem with his mouth and holding on to Jungkook’s thigh to keep his balance as the other’s thrusts turn more and more erratic. 

He moans and hums around the length, the vibration making Jungkook curse out loud, his hips speeding up, making Jimin gag a little, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes and spilling over. 

The only warning he gets is Jungkook’s grip in his hair flexing before he’s yanked off, the length slipping from his mouth. He sucks in deep breaths, watching through blurry eyes as Jungkook works his cock right in front of his face, holding Jimin in place with the other hand.

“Open your mouth,” he gasps and Jimin hates how he lets his lips fall open immediately, even sticking out his tongue. 

Only a heartbeat later a deep groan rings through the bathroom and then Jimin feels the wetness of Jungkook’s cum splattering all over his face, some of it hitting his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose, most of it landing on his lips and tongue, where it gathers and just when it's about to slip off and drip to the floor, Jungkook speaks up, sounding breathless.

“Swallow.” 

Obediently, Jimin closes his mouth and swallows, tasting bitterness and sex.

He blinks the wetness from his vision and locks eyes with Jungkook, who’s still holding him by his hair, still stroking his cock lazily, his breath shaking with the last remnants of his orgasm. He’s flushed, looking vulnerable and kind of soft. 

The softness is gone, however, the moment a smug smile spreads on his face. 

“Not bad,” he drawls. 

Jimin scowls. “I don’t need your fucking evaluation.” 

He grimaces when he takes the hem of his shirt to wipe the tears and cum off his face. Then he gets to his feet, the way his jeans are rubbing over his crotch making him flinch at every movement. 

Once he’s standing, he lifts his chin and points at the floor to his feet. 

“Your turn.” 

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at the command.  “Excuse me?”

“Too chicken to suck me off?” Jimin crosses his arms. “You can always give up.” 

He swears to fucking God if Jungkook gives up now-

A mix of hot relief and electric arousal floods him when a challenging look crosses the other’s face before he takes a step closer, taking hold of Jimin’s belt buckle and yanking him in with a jerk, his smile widening when Jimin puts his hands out to stop their chests from colliding, breath hitching audibly at the feeling of smooth skin and hard nipples under his palms. 

“If anyone's gonna give up it’s you, Park. I’m not gonna go easy on you.” 

“I didn’t ask you to.” 

The other just grins as he works Jimin’s belt and jeans open, slowly, teasingly, stepping even closer. His lips graze Jimin’s briefly before trailing over his jaw while his hands slide under the waistband, fingers wandering lower until they reach Jimin’s butt. At the rough squeeze that follows, Jimin’s breath shudders once more and he tilts his head to the side, giving Jungkook more room to bite a spot right under his ear softly. 

Then the other sinks to the floor slowly, pulling Jimin’s pants down while doing so. It’s a relief when his cock is finally free from the constraints of his pants, which pool around his ankles, together with his underwear. Jimin swallows against the beating pulse in his throat at the sight of Jungkook on his knees in front of him, his breath tickling Jimin’s length, rock hard and slightly flushed.

Yeah, that’s a sight he’s never thought he would see.

The moment Jungkook’s fingers wrap around him, Jimin’s stomach coils into hot knots, his cock giving a tiny jump. 

Shit, he’s too worked up, he’s not gonna last long. 

His fingers twitch, buzzing with the need to reach out and grab Jungkook by his head, to pull him right into his crotch. Instead, Jimin takes hold of the sink in his back, his hands curling around the unforgiving surface of the cool ceramic when Jungkook’s tongue flicks out against the flushed tip of his cock. 

Fucking hell.

He desperately tries to keep his shit together when the other starts working him slowly, teasingly, his mouth wet and hot, his lips and tongue skilled, wrapping around him perfectly, using just the right amount of pressure. He knows what he’s doing, knows exactly how to drive Jimin insane, how to nip and suck and lick to make him pant and squirm and throb. It feels fucking wonderful and Jimin hates Jungkook for it.

“Oh,” Jimin moans, his sight blurring. He lets his head fall back, staring up into the ceiling, the heat inside his body growing, his toes curling when Jungkook’s deep chuckle sends vibrations through his cock that hit just the right spots. His legs almost give out when the other suddenly takes him deeper, and deeper, until Jimin slides into his throat all the way, his balls literally hitting the other’s chin. 

He pants helplessly, his mouth open, the rush of blood loud in his ears. It’s so hot and wet and he can’t keep himself from reaching out anymore, both hands tangling in Jungkook’s hair as he widens his stance as far as his pants around his ankles allow, the sink digging into his lower back when he leans backwards, rolling his hips slowly, looking down at the other.

“Fuck—”

Jungkook’s face is flushed, his lips stretched wide around Jimin’s cock, his eyelashes a little wet. And still, the way he takes Jimin in, the way his gaze is burning into him, the way he looks at him, intense and unforgiving and hungry, makes Jimin feel all raw and vulnerable, incredibly hot and almost shy.

There is a thick haze clouding his mind and his stomach tightens when Jungkook pulls back slowly until only the tip rests between his lips, before he takes Jimin all the way into his mouth again. He repeats the movement, over and over, his large palms wandering over Jimin’s legs while doing so, fingertips stroking the sensitive skin on his inner thighs, then rubbing over his balls, the soft touches leaving Jimin gasping for air.

And then his gasps stutter to a halt, his eyes widening, a strangled sound leaving him, when Jungkook reaches between his legs and slips a single finger between his cheeks, pressing against his rim. 

They stare at each other, little sparks of heat racing all over Jimin’s skin. 

Jungkook increases the pressure and all of Jimin’s muscles lock.

His sudden tensing has Jungkook pull back from his cock slowly. 

“Chickening out?” He asks breathlessly, lifting an eyebrow, his tone challenging, his lips red and wet, his finger still pressing against Jimin’s rim, which clenches in the needy kind of way. 

Jimin swallows the drool that has been flooding his mouth. Everything feels tight and everything feels hot and he must have lost his mind because he doesn’t even think twice before he narrows his eyes and scoffs, reaching out for a random bottle of lotion behind him, holding it out to Jungkook without another word. 

The corner of the other’s mouth twitches as he takes it from him, his gaze still burning hot. Then the sound of the cap snapping open resonates loudly in the bathroom and Jimin’s heart starts racing when he watches Jungkook squirt some lotion into his palm, leathering two of his fingers with it. 

Holy shit, this is really happening. 

Jungkook drops the bottle to the ground and looks at him with a small smile. 

“Last chance to give up.” 

“Never.” 

The other chuckles and then his mouth is back on Jimin’s cock and two of his fingers push between his cheeks. Jimin gasps in surprise at the sudden onslaught on both ends, the throbbing heat in his belly flaring back up at the slick feeling of fingers circling his rim. 

The rush in his ears is back too and it’s so loud that he only grows aware of the sudden new noise in the room when Jungkook freezes, lifting his gaze to look at him with a frown, his lips still wrapped around his cock.

Jimin blinks.  

There is a low buzz filling the air, coming from a spot right next to him.

He turns his head and his brain regains just enough clarity for him to realize that it’s his phone vibrating on the counter, the screen showing an incoming call from Taehyung. 

Oh shit! The movies! 

He snatches the phone, accepting the call with trembling fingers. 

“Tae, I’m so sorry—” He clears his throat when he realizes how sore he sounds. Literally like someone who’s just had a cock down his throat. 

“Jimin, where are you? We’re already inside, the movie is about to start literally any minute now!”  

“Uhh—” Jimin drops his gaze between his legs where Jungkook is looking up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Jimin’s jaw clenches as he tries to stifle a groan when the other hollows his cheeks, giving his length a long teasing suck. 

“Sorry, I won’t make it—” He rasps, hoping that he doesn’t sound too breathless. “Something came up.” 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah! I’m okay, it’s just—” He sends Jungkook an incredulous look when the other swirls his tongue around his tip. “I’ll tell you later, okay? I’m busy, I’m gonna hang up.” 

“Wait! Do you know where Jungkook is? He was supposed to be here too and Seokjin can’t get a hold of him.” 

“Oh, he’s-” Jimin’s lips clamp shut, his hand slamming over his mouth, his entire body jerking when a long finger slides into him, all in one go. His knees buckle, only Jungkook’s hand on his hip keeping him standing. 

“Shit,” he breathes into his palm, glaring down at the other who seems to enjoy himself greatly, judging from the sparkle in his eyes. He’s gonna kill that motherfucker. 

“Jimin?” 

“Yeah, he’s—he was held up, too. We both won’t make it.” 

There is a short pause. 

“Did you get into a fight again? How bad was it?” 

Jimin’s hole clenches and his eyes flutter shut when Jungkook pulls his finger out again, before thrusting it back inside all the way with one quick motion. It hits something inside Jimin that has his knees jitter again and he sucks his lower lip between his teeth to keep himself from making any noises. 

“We didn’t fight,” he gasps. “We just-”

“Oh shit, the movie is starting! Talk to you later, yeah?” 

“Yeah, talk to-” 

The line goes dead. 

Jimin huffs and puts his phone to the side, before both of his hands grab Jungkook’s head, yanking him off, glaring down into his stupid face with that stupid smug grin. 

“You fucking asshole, what the hell was tha-ah!” 

It’s two fingers inside him now, curling, touching a spot that has his knees buckle again. 

Usually, Jimin wouldn’t let himself be silenced like this. But this feels way too good.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s lips and tongue are back on his cock, his fingers moving inside Jimin rhythmically, and all Jimin can do is let himself be consumed by heat again, moans tumbling from his lips that are way too desperate for his liking, mixing with the wet sounds of Jungkook sucking and fingering him. 

“God—” He sobs. 

The heat inside him builds and centers, he feels so fucking good, feverish almost, his body buzzing with lust, his mind turning into a puddle as he loses track of time completely. 

The next thing he knows is that Jungkook is three fingers deep inside him and that his legs are too weak to hold him up anymore. He whines helplessly when his knees buckle, slamming forward into Jungkook’s shoulders and Jungkook just about catches and steadies him with his hands on his hips before pulling off.

There is a click of tongue. Then Jimin is suddenly lifted up and thrown over a shoulder. 

“Hey!” He complains, more because of surprise than anything else, struggling in the other’s tight hold, kicking his legs, which causes his pants to slide off, followed by his underwear, the items leaving a trail in their hallway as he’s carried from their bathroom to his bedroom, where Jungkook throws him onto the bed, the mattress bouncing under him. 

“Why are we doing this in my bed?!” 

“Because I just changed my sheets yesterday,” Jungkook says, forcing him on his back before kneeling over him. 

“I changed my sheets today.” 

“I don’t care. Where’s your lube?”

“But I care.” 

The other’s brows wander up. “What? Chickening out because you don’t wanna fuck on your bed?” 

Jimin glares at him. Who the hell does that cocky bastard think he is?

“Who said we’re gonna fuck?”

Jungkook’s expression turns into something amused and he stares him down wordlessly until Jimin huffs. Who is he kidding? 

He jerks his chin at his nightstand. “Top drawer.” 

Jimin ignores the alarmingly satisfied look on Jungkook's face. Instead, he watches muscles shift under naked skin as Jungkook leans over to retrieve the bottle from Jimin’s bedside drawer, dropping it into the sheets.

“Arms up,” he then says.  

Jimin scowls, unhappy with the command, but he swallows his pride and lifts his arms, letting Jungkook pull his shirt off. He feels the need to argue but at the same time not, because his cock is too hard and his tummy too tight. He shivers a little when he’s completely bare.

Jungkook pulls back, his gaze wandering over Jimin’s exposed body, and something flutters in Jimin’s stomach when he licks his lips. He clearly likes what he sees and it makes Jimin feel sexy and wanted. He bites his bottom lip when Jungkook shifts his weight above him to one hand, dragging the knuckles of the other from his chest to his stomach, fingertips dipping into his navel before a palm cups his cock. Jimin lets his legs fall open further at the delicious pressure. 

“Ever thought about this, Park?” Jungkook asks, leaning in to run his lips over Jimin’s jaw while his hand pulls back to reach for the lube. “About me doing this to you?” 

The bottle snaps open loudly, followed by the slick sound of lube and Jimin chokes on a moan when Jungkook pushes two fingers into him only a second later, hitting that spot right away, jolts of pleasure making his back arch. 

He shakes his head, breathless, his mind a bit hazy. 

“No?” Jungkook chuckles, dragging his fingers in and out of him slowly. “That’s a pity, because I did.” 

Jimin doesn’t know what to do with that information but at another touch to his prostate, all thoughts fly out of his mind anyway, everything pulling tight. He whines, his hands coming around Jungkook to hold on to something, his fingers digging into the muscles of the other’s back. 

“I always wondered what that irritating-as-fuck mouth would look like stuffed with my cock. I think about ruining you sometimes,” Jungkook mumbles, his breath hot against Jimin’s ear, his fingers speeding up and Jimin’s breath hitches, his cock jumping between them, drooling precum now, his entire body hot and coiled up tight. “About making you fucking cry. Every time you’re so full of yourself, so fucking smug, I think about taking you over my knee and spanking you until you come.” 

The pictures that flash through Jimin’s mind have his sight slide out of focus. Pictures of Jungkook’s hand connecting with his ass over and over and over again until the skin is all red and bruised. 

His mouth falls open, a choked off sound leaving his throat that surprises himself, his back arching, and then the pleasure inside him explodes without any warning. He almost forgets how to breathe as his sudden orgasm washes over him in violent waves, shaking him, making him clench around Jungkook’s fingers and spill all over his own stomach and chest. 

He’s throbbing and shaking for a while, gasping for air, until, finally, it’s only aftershocks coursing through his body. 

Between his legs, Jungkook has straightened up, looking surprised, fingers still deep inside him.

“Wow, that really did it for you, huh?” 

Jimin is so out of breath that he can’t do anything but swallow down a tiny sob, which earns him a laugh from Jungkook, something breathless but a little cruel, and before Jimin knows what’s happening, those fingers find his prostate again, pressing into it. 

“F-ah!” Jimin cries out, writhing, his hands fisting the sheets as his body tries to decide whether to shy away from or grind into the touch. 

“Come on, you can come again,” Jungkook says, talking louder to make sure Jimin hears him over his own moans and sobs. “I’ll give you a good spanking if you give me one more. Do it.” 

Jimin’s legs jerk in the air and then he comes again with a silent scream, his second orgasm slamming into him so hard that it almost blinds him, his vision going white, more cum joining the puddle that’s already pooling on his heaving stomach. It goes on forever, there is this very desperate moaning sound and he realizes belatedly it’s coming from himself, which is kinda embarrassing, but he’s way too far gone to actually care. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s still coming. 

He loses himself in the feeling, shudders through the aftershocks a lot longer this time.

“Holy fuck,” he pants when his vision finally clears and the world stops spinning. 

Jungkook is sitting over him with a smug grin. 

“Welcome back.” 

“Shit,” Jimin gasps. “You’re fucking mean.” 

Jungkook chuckles. “I think you like it.” 

Fucking asshole. But Jimin can’t argue with that, so he just presses his lips together and glares. He also doesn’t argue when he’s suddenly grabbed and thrown around until his front hits the mattress.

Before he can even start making a fuss about the fact that all the mess on his stomach is now on his fucking comforter, his ass is yanked up, pulling a startled yelp from him. 

With one hand holding Jimin in place by his hip, Jungkook smoothes the other over his bare cheek, giving it a little squeeze that makes Jimin’s cock twitch in fresh interest. 

“So—” Jungkook glides his palm to the other side, his fingertips grazing the undercurve of Jimin’s butt. “You really want that spanking, or no?” 

The question sends another rush of heat through Jimin’s belly. 

There hasn’t been anyone in a while willing to rough him up. That it’s Jungkook of all people offering this to him should set off all alarm bells in his head. It’s a stupid idea and everything inside him bristles at the thought of giving Jungkook that kind of power over him. But he’s also curious. And still extremely turned on. He knows Jungkook, he knows the other doesn’t half-ass anything. He knows how determined the other is and how strong.

His thigh muscles clench a little and he bites his lips. 

Fuck it.

He glares at the other over his shoulder. To his surprise, Jungkook’s expression is rather neutral, the smugness gone. He’s simply gauging Jimin’s reaction and waiting for an answer. Jimin feels a little exposed under his gaze. Even more so, when he says what he does next.

“Show me what you got.” 

That has the other lick his lips and only a heartbeat later, the smug grin is back. Wordlessly he slides off the bed and before Jimin knows what’s happening, his world is turned upside down as he’s yanked up to his feet before being pulled down again, right over Jungkook’s lap, where he lands with a little oof-sound. 

He blinks, slightly disoriented, and then gasps when the muscles of Jungkook’s thigh shift, right where Jimin’s cock is trapped between his wet stomach and the other’s warm leg. 

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he hears him mumble. 

Jimin scoffs. “As if a little spanking could-” 

The first spank lands so hard, right on the undercurve of his ass, that it drives him halfway across Jungkook's thighs. His hands shoot out to grab the sheets for purchase, his lips falling open, his stomach lurching with something needy hot because that fucking stung. Holy shit. 

His heart surges into his throat and he doesn’t even have time to prepare himself for the next slap. It comes unexpected, landing on the very same spot so hard that it makes Jimin’s ass jiggle, the slapping sound reverberating through the air loudly. 

“Shit,” Jimin hisses through clenched teeth, his entire face growing hot, his cock throbbing where it’s growing harder and harder against Jungkook’s thigh. 

“For the record—” Jungkook gives the sore spot a rough squeeze, making Jimin’s leg jerk. “This is what I envision every single time you test me.”  

The next blow lands so hard, on the other cheek this time, that it makes Jimin cry out in pain. 

“You know what,” the other continues, trailing his fingertips over the curve of Jimin’s ass down to his thigh, grazing his balls while doing so, which – to Jimin’s utter embarrassment – pulls a very needy moan from him. “I think I’ll start doing that. Every time you get on my nerves, I’ll bend you over and spank your ass until you’ve learned your lesson.” 

“And what lesson would tha-ah!” Jimin is cut off by another spank, clenching his jaw at the stinging pain. “What lesson would that be?” He gasps when it subsides. 

“Wouldn’t be much of a learning experience if I’d tell you.”

The cop-out answer has Jimin snort but the sound gets stuck in his throat when another slap makes his ass bounce, followed by a second one right away, before Jungkook grabs him, kneading the plump flesh roughly, the scrape of his nails making Jimin shudder, before another two hits land on each cheek. Jimin feels the skin of his ass heating up and he squirms a little, breathless, and definitely fully hard now. He presses his lips together, stifling a groan when Jungkook shifts his leg under him, and suddenly he feels the need to roll his hips, to rut his groin into Jungkook’s thigh. 

So he does. 

He grinds forward, rubbing his length into Jungkook’s lap desperately, smearing precum all over it. Jungkook lets him, and Jimin moans airily when he feels the answering throb of the other's cock against his stomach. 

There is another slap to his butt, so violent that the sting brings tears to Jimin’s eyes, and the broken moan that leaves him has his face flaming, his heart racing. 

Only faintly he realizes that Jungkook is breathing a little harder now too, as he keeps spanking Jimin over and over again, rubbing the sting off his skin every now and then, almost gently, before he delivers another blow, always harder than the one before. The slaps are loud in the room, mixing with Jimin’s gasps and moans and Jungkook’s labored breathing. Jimin wishes he could see what his ass looks like, if it looks as sore as it feels. By now it really hurts, the pain sending dull shocks of pleasure into his cock over and over until Jimin’s belly is all hot and tight. 

He literally whines when Jungkook spreads him apart with one hand, Jimin’s rim clenching when it's hit with cool bedroom air, still wet with lube. Without any warning, Jungkook dips two fingers inside him, pushing right into his sweet spot. Jimin’s legs curl, his heel slamming into the other’s upper arm, and he presses his face into the sheets with a sob. He’s still sensitive back there from earlier and somehow it makes the light stretch feel even better. 

“Let me fuck you,” Jungkook suddenly says, sounding breathless and rough. 

It takes a moment for the words to register with Jimin and once they do, his belly throbs so hard that he gives another involuntary rut of hips, driving the other’s fingers deeper into him. He moans weakly before taking in a shuddering breath, lifting his head to send a glare over his shoulder.

“Can’t even say please?” 

The snide question is answered with an amused chuckle and Jungkook leans closer, bringing his mouth right to Jimin’s ear.

“Please, Jimin,” he whispers. “Let me fuck you.” 

The sound of his name from the other’s lip has Jimin’s belly flutter with a weird type of excitement.

“Say it again,” he breathes before he can stop himself, clenching around the fingers inside him. 

“Please,” Jungkook whispers. 

Jimin sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, face burning with embarrassment. 

“My name,” he clarifies. 

There is a short pause, then Jungkook plants a kiss right under Jimin’s ear.

“Jimin,” he mumbles into his skin, followed by another kiss. “Jimin. Let me fuck you, Jimin.” 

The words are almost soft but the way his fingers plunge deeper into Jimin, harsh and mean, pressing into his prostate roughly, are anything but. Jimin sobs, his toes curling, his hips bucking when the pressure doesn't stop until it's almost too much, until it almost hurts, his belly hot and tight.

“Okay,” he gasps. “Shit—o-okay—”

Jungkook's fingers press into him harder and Jimin clenches, burning pleasure searing through his heated core like wildfire, his eyes rolling back.

"What? Gonna come again?" He hears Jungkook ask, sounding amazed, his free hand holding Jimin down by his neck. "How many times would that be? Three?"

Jimin distantly realizes that his body is shaking, he gasps and heaves, unable to speak. Jungkook gives a couple of rhythmic thrusts.

"And I haven't even had my cock in you yet, Jimin." 

The orgasm that hits Jimin is rough, his thighs and hole clenching tight as his vision explodes in a sea of stars. He comes all over Jungkook's thigh, pressing his face into the sheets, muffling his sobs. The fingers fuck him through his climax unhurriedly until Jimin's body has stopped trembling, until his heavy sobs have turned into quiet gasps, his legs and arms limp and heavy, tingling with aftershocks. 

He clenches when Jungkook pulls his fingers out wetly, before he lands a final slap lands on Jimin's bruised ass, making the plump flesh jiggle, ripping a high-pitched yelp from Jimin's throat.

Then, in a tangle of limbs, Jimin is maneuvered around until his back hits the mattress, Jungkook looming over him, grabbing his face, lube-covered fingers digging into his cheeks. 

"Can you go again?" He asks, licking his lips, his cheeks flushed. "Still up for that fuck?"

Jimin feels overwhelmed and breathless, but there is still something needy simmering in his stomach that hasn't been satisfied yet. His gaze drops between them, landing on the other's cock that's flushed and hard and wet and Jimin wants it. He wants to know what Jungkook has to offer. His eyes find Jungkook's again.

"Sure," he says and ignores how rough his voice sounds. "Try to impress me." 

A slow grin spreads on Jungkook's lips, his eyes flashing.

"Careful what you wish for. I made you come three times already." He leans in, breathing against Jimin's lips. "I'm curious how many more you have in you." Then he disappears from Jimin's line of sight, followed by the rustling sound of him rummaging through Jimin’s nightstand. “Where the fuck are your condoms?” 

Jimin turns his head and licks his lips, rubbing his sore butt against the cool sheets a little, enjoying the fuzzy feeling the slight pain gives him. 

“Drawer below,” he mumbles.  

Jungkook pauses and stares at him. “Why do you keep lube and condoms in separate drawers?” 

Jimin frowns. “Is that important right now?” 

“No, it’s not, but it doesn’t make any fucking sense,” Jungkook grumbles before finally retrieving the condoms, throwing them into the sheets next to Jimin as he climbs over him again.

“Geez,” Jimin huffs. “Can you do anything without complaining?” 

The look in Jungkook’s eyes is sharp, a tone of warning to his words. 

“Don’t test me, Jimin.” 

Jimin yelps when his pillow is rudely yanked from under his head. 

“Ass up.” 

He’s too taken aback to complain about the command and lifts his butt, letting Jungkook push the pillow under his lower back, keeping him slightly elevated when he lowers his hips back down. Then he watches Jungkook ripping the condom packet open with his teeth, like the fucking show-off that he is, before rolling it over his flushed cock slowly. 

He hates how good Jungkook looks doing this, kneeling on Jimin’s bed with a wide stance, all smooth skin and defined muscles. Then he reaches for the lube, squirting it all over his length, most of it dripping down onto Jimin’s sheets and Jimin is just about to complain, when the other’s eyes zero in on him, his gaze hot and intense. 

Jimin’s heart starts beating faster as Jungkook shuffles closer, sliding between his legs, and Jimin is almost embarrassed how quickly he pulls them in and lets them fall open further, giving the other all the room, basically offering himself up.

His entire face is burning when a subtle satisfied smirk appears on Jungkook’s lips before he wraps his fingers around Jimin’s wrists, pushing them into the sheets on either side of Jimin’s head. Keeping him pinned down like this, Jungkook shifts his hips and grinds forward, his cock sliding between Jimin’s cheeks, all wet and lubed up. Jimin shudders, biting down on his bottom lip at the slick feeling, hot goosebumps spreading across his skin. 

Jungkook leans in. “I hope you’re not thinking about chickening out,” he murmurs against Jimin’s lips. 

Jimin chuckles. That’s the last thing he’s thinking about right now. 

“No. Are you?” 

“Fuck no.” 

Their lips collide, tongues sliding together. It’s messy and rough and greedy. They lick and suck and bite and somehow Jimin manages to free himself from Jungkook’s hold around his wrists and tangle his fingers in the other’s hair, tugging him closer. 

Heat ripples through his body like lightning when the hot tip of Jungkook’s cock nudges his rim. And then his breath is completely taken away when Jungkook’s hands find his hips and he pushes into him, slowly and gradually. 

He takes his time with it, breathing harshly into Jimin’s mouth, and Jimin’s sight blurs at the feeling of being stretched and filled, the hot fullness breaking his mind a little bit. 

When Jungkook finally bottoms out, his hips pressing flush against Jimin’s ass, they both groan in union. 

“Fucking hell,” Jungkook pants, planting his palms into the mattress on either side of Jimin, looking down between them, where they are joined together. 

Fucking hell indeed. 

This is really happening.

Jeon fucking Jungkook is inside him and Jimin feels so fucking full. And hot. Like he’s burning up. Every muscle in his body quivering. 

He clenches around the girth, and from the corner of his eyes, he can see Jungkook’s fingers gripping the sheets tightly. He shifts his hips a little, pulling a shuddering moan from the other. 

“Fuck me,” he mumbles, bringing his hand between them to take hold of his cock that's already fully hard again, his back arching a little at his own touch. “C'mon—want you to fuck me—” 

And, after a shuddering intake of breath, Jungkook does. 

He rolls his hips lightly first, breathless curses and low moans tumbling from both their lips, before he starts fucking Jimin in long unhurried strokes that make Jimin’s spine arch. The way Jungkook’s cock drags in and out of him lights up his entire body. It feels so good that Jimin lets his hand fall from his cock, scared that he’ll come too soon otherwise. Again. He wants to savor this a little bit more. 

It doesn’t take long for him to learn the rhythm of Jungkook’s body and to learn how to meet the other’s thrusts, what to do to make Jungkook’s breath hitch the loudest, while also guiding him a little bit, showing him where it feels best for himself. 

He’s a little taken aback when he realizes that this is not just taking, it’s also giving. Jungkook is not just taking him, he’s also giving Jimin all he needs to feel good. And Jimin does the same.

Who would’ve thought the one time they’re working together is to bring each other to orgasm. 

The other looks up when Jimin chuckles, his thrusts slowing down to a stop. 

“What?”

Jimin shrugs. “It’s just weird to think this is happening.” 

Jungkook frowns deeply, before clicking his tongue. 

“You think too much.”  

And then, as if on a mission to take away Jimin’s ability to think entirely, he grabs him by his legs, pushes them further apart and starts fucking him hard and fast, sending hot throb after hot throb through Jimin’s belly, making him cry out. 

Jimin is a fucking mess in no time. He throw his arms above his head, grabbing the headboard blindly as he’s quite literally fucked into the mattress. Jungkook is pounding into him, it’s loud and somewhat messy, the sound of lube mixing with the wet slap of skin against skin as well as their ragged breathing and suppressed moans. 

Jimin closes his eyes, his spine is tingling, the hot tension in his belly spreading through his entire body, his legs spasming with every thrust. Jungkook fills him up so good. Like this, he’s hitting spots inside him that have never been hit before and Jimin is slowly losing his mind. 

The other’s breathing turns more and more labored, his moans getting louder, and when Jimin opens his eyes to look at him, he’s not even surprised that Jungkook looks just as out of it as he feels. All flushed and sweaty, his pupils blown wide. 

Jimin wants to tease him, wants to make a snide remark, but he’s not able to. He’s way too deep into it, while at the same time totally out of it. They both are. 

His pulse is going wild, his head swimming, he reaches out, digging his nail into Jungkook’s biceps, making the other groan. The air tastes salty, of fresh sweat and sex, and Jimin’s spine lifts off the mattress at a particularly deep thrust, the beginnings of an orgasm settling low in the pit of his stomach. 

When Jungkook’s fingers find his cock, wrapping around it, giving it a couple of tugs, Jimin literally mewls. The sound makes his face burn, like the rest of his body, and Jungkook’s heated eyes on him are not helping. He can tell the other is close from the way his brows are drawn together, from the way the muscles in his jaw clench before his lips part as he’s gasping for air, his chest shining with sweat. He starts jerking Jimin off while his cock drags in and out of him, driving him towards the edge overwhelmingly quickly. 

“Oh f- oh God—” Jimin moans, his voice cracking, his blood thundering in his ears, the sound of Jungkook’s hand flying up and down his drooling cock wet and loud. “F-Fuck, Jungkook—” He feels the other’s length pulse inside him and he throws his head back with another gasp. “Gonna come—” 

“Good,” Jungkook says, his voice breathless and strained, before he leans in, dragging his hot tongue along Jimin’s throat, followed by a bite and a harsh suck that have Jimin’s lower belly clench and all his muscles lock. He’s trembling, he’s burning, and so fucking ready to come. He needs it. God, he needs to come so bad.

At the sensation of Jungkook’s thumb pressing into his slit, it’s over for him. 

All air is pushed out of his lungs, his eyes flying open, unseeing, and then his orgasm flashes through him, violent and wet, hot and cold, like fire and ice, his entire body jerking with it, and he can feel himself crying out, can feel it in his throat, but he can’t hear it. All he can hear is a rush in his ears and his own thundering pulse and Jungkook’s low groan and muttered curse when he slams into Jimin one final time, his hips pressing tightly against his ass while he’s coming too, spilling into the condom.

When it’s over, Jimin is nothing but a shuddering mess of aftershocks, and Jungkook’s heavy weight comes almost like a relief when the other collapses on top of him, pinning him down into the mattress under the length of his body. 

They lie there, panting, their heartbeats slowing down gradually.

After a while, it’s completely silent in the room. 

For once, they are both at a loss for words. 

Before today, Jimin didn't even know he's capable of coming this often. He has lost track but it feels like hours that Jungkook is fucking him, relentlessly, with only a few breaks in between. His bed is a fucking mess and his room reeks so much of sex, of dampness and lube and cum and rubbery condoms. He just knows he won’t get that smell out for days. 

At some point, they have stopped talking altogether. It’s just a mix of their shuddering breaths, quiet moans, and loud gasps. With wordless commands they indicate what they want the other to do, they pull each other in, they push each other into different positions, sometimes gently, sometimes forcefully, they give, they take, and everything feels hot.

Jungkook seems to enjoy a specific position with them on their sides the most, with his front pressed again Jimin’s back, Jimin’s leg lifted up so Jungkook can fuck into him from behind by rolling his hips lazily, breathing into his nape. 

Like this, when Jimin turns his head and arches his neck a little, they are able to kiss, and he decides that he likes the position too. It’s also the position he comes in for the final time that night, before he collapses, not able to keep his eyes open anymore. 

Jimin startles awake, his heart pounding as he sits up, blinking, his eyes only half-open as they drift over the room, taking their time to adjust to the brightness of the sun shining through the window. 

Something woke him up. A weird noise. 

He frowns and looks around groggily, quickly realizing that he’s not in his own bed. He’s in Jungkook’s bed, wearing nothing but his boxers, his body feels tired and sore, but also soft and clean. The fuzzy memory of Jungkook carrying him from his soiled bed to the shower and afterwards to Jungkook's room pops up in his head.

His frown deepens. 

Well. That was oddly nice.  

He glances at the other’s sleeping form, who has his back turned to him, his shoulders rising and falling slowly and rhythmically. Weirdly peaceful. So different from usual. 

Somehow, that's when it hits Jimin. The realization that — oh God — he had sex with Jeon Jungkook.

His skin flushes with heat and he's just about to debate what to do now, when he hears whatever has woken him up again. He startles with a gasp, his entire body freezing at the realization that it's coming from down the hallway. 

Someone is in their apartment. 

“What?” 

Jungkook's groggy voice makes him jump once more. The other is looking at him over his shoulder, his hair disheveled, his face slightly crumpled. 

“I think there’s an intruder,” Jimin whispers. 

The other frowns, before dropping his head back into the pillow. “What the hell are you talking about?” He mumbles. 

The sound of the front door clicking shut has them both sit up straight with a jolt. 

“What the fuck?!” 

Jungkook swings his legs out off the bed and makes a beeline for the door, grabbing a random screwdriver from his desk on his way. Jimin’s screwdriver. He’s been looking for that! 

Jimin only grabs his phone, ready to dial 9-1-1 while he scrambles after the other, his heart racing. 

Jungkook yanks the door open, storming out of the room, and before Jimin can even round the corner of the threshold, he hears him curse. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” 

Once he’s stepped into the hallway, Jimin is greeted by the surprised faces of Seokjin and Taehyung, standing there awkwardly, their mouths opening and closing while their eyes wander over Jimin’s and Jungkook’s half-naked forms. 

Oops. 

“Umm, it’s way past noon and you guys haven’t been picking up your phones ever since last night,” Seokjin explains. 

“We were worried that you might’ve killed each other,” Taehyung adds. “So we decided to come over and check.” 

Jungkook frowns. “How did you even get in here?”  

“Spare key,” Taehyung says, holding up said item.  

Jungkook snaps his head around and scowls at Jimin. “You’re handing out spare keys?!” 

There are fresh angry looking scratch marks all over his upper arms and shoulders. Jimin doesn’t really remember leaving those exactly. What he does remember though, is sucking that deep purple bruise into his neck. That was during round three.

“Only for emergencies!” He defends himself, tearing his gaze away from his marks on Jungkook’s skin and looking at Taehyung pointedly instead. “And this is not an emergency.” 

His best friend snorts. “Clearly not,” he says, his gaze dragging over Jimin’s exposed form. “Here I thought you needed saving but instead-”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Jimin blurts. 

“What the fuck? It’s exactly what it looks like.” Jungkook glares at him. “Are you embarrassed about us fucking or what?” 

There’s a choked-up sound coming from Seokjin and Jimin sputters, heat spreading in his cheeks.

“Are you not?!” 

“It’s just sex, it’s not like we’re dating or whatever!” 

“Yeah that would be a shocker,” Seokjin interjects, giggling. “Like,” he elbows Taehyung. “Could you imagine?” 

Taehyung blinks, looking between them all. Then he chuckles. “Not in a million years. Although—As Jimin’s bestie, I gotta say, it’s a loss on Jungkook’s part.” He glances at Jungkook. “Jimin always puts so much effort into his dates.” 

Jimin doesn't like the way he’s talked about as if he’s not here. “Well, thanks, but-” 

“Oh, Jungkook is great at dates, too,” Seokjin interrupts. “I heard he cooks amazing romantic dinners.” 

Jimin frowns. Jungkook is good at cooking? 

“Right, Jungkook?” Seokjin looks at the other. 

“Uhh—” Jungkook seems just as confused as Jimin. “Yeah, I guess I’m good at it.” 

Taehyung hums. “Probably not as good as Jimin, though.” 

That has the other’s face harden. “Obviously I can't be as good as him when I’m better than him.” 

“Excuse me?” Jimin lifts his brows. “You have no idea how good I am at dates.” 

“I think you didn’t listen, Park. I’m amazing at them.”

“I’m amazing at them, too!” 

“Please,” the other scoffs. “You probably think of a bag of chips and a Netflix marathon as a great date.” 

Jimin bristles. “First of all, I’m way more original than that! I know what it takes to plan romantic dates and let me tell you, it’s about creating an experience, an atmosphere! Something a lot more than a mediocre home-cooked dinner.” 

“Medi-” Jungkook gasps. “I’m pretty sure anyone would prefer a night of my cooking over whatever over-the-top impractical plans you usually come up with.” 

“My dates are unforgettable.” 

Jungkook barks out a laugh. “Trust me, after experiencing one of my dinners, no one in their right mind would even remember your ‘unforgettable’ dates.” 

“You probably heat up some frozen lasagna and light a candle. Also, I’ve seen the wine that you buy. Fucking cheap.” 

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. 

“Okay, you know what?” He stares Jimin down. “You. Me. Tonight at six. I’m gonna fucking show you how good I am at romantic dinners.” 

"I can't."

"Why the fuck not?!"

“You know I’m at practice till six thirty!” 

“How the fuck should I know that?!” 

“Read the fucking schedule!” 

“Oh my God!” Jungkook throws his hands in the air. “At seven then!” 

“Fine.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”  

“I’m gonna wine and dine you so fucking hard, Park.” Jungkook points at him with his finger. “I’m gonna romance your head off, you’ll see!”  

Jimin sneers. “I just know you’re gonna suck at it. You know what—” He crosses his arms. “I’m gonna romance you double. I’ll even get you flowers.” 

“Flowers?! What kinda corny ass bullshit is that?” 

The question has Jimin gawk. “The fuck are you talking about?! Flowers are the best! I’ll get you the biggest and most beautiful bouquet in existence, it’ll blow your fucking mind!”

“Ha! I’m getting you a bigger one, you’ll see!”

Jimin grits his teeth. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” 

“Bet!” 

“Yeah!”  

They stomp to their respective rooms, both doors slamming shut simultaneously and if they would’ve listened hard enough, they might’ve heard Taehyung say: “Wow, I can’t believe that actually worked.” And Seokjin answer: “Really? I’m not surprised at all.”