Chapter Text
Yoongi can’t say that he is dissatisfied with his life. Not at all.
As a child, he had big dreams of being a famous rapper. He’d wanted it all. A big house, a big car. Nice jewellery and clothes and legions of fans shouting his name. And he’d had a taste, sure. He’d dabbled in the underground rap scene for a bit in his youth; spent his Friday and Saturday nights up on small hastily constructed stages in smoky sweaty clubs, spitting into microphones about the trials and tribulations of growing up as a young man in South Korea, coming from nothing and seeking to gain everything whilst wrestling with the recesses of his own mind.
He’d received a bit of attention for his work, had released a few singles online and gained a decent number of followers on various social media platforms when he really should have been focusing on his studies and making his parents proud.
He’d always planned to take it further.
But before he knew it, he was eighteen, then nineteen, then twenty, and his grades from school hadn’t been terrible but they were nothing particularly special either. He’d been lost deep in a funk of anxiousness and self-discovery, bottled up with only a semi-successful underground music career as an outlet and suddenly it was all, well, you could always do your service now, get it of the way, Yoongi, maybe it’ll give you a chance to decide what you want to do afterwards with your life?
So, he did his time in the military. Eighteen more months of agonising over his thoughts, one unsuccessful relationship with a sweet girl from Incheon later, and Yoongi came to the conclusion that he wasn’t being as honest with himself as he could be.
Because there was always a part of him that was thinking of men as well when he was thinking of women, and when he and Jimin drunkenly kissed one night at a club celebrating the younger's graduation from university, he could final admit to himself that perhaps he liked men too.
The kiss with Jimin actually meant nothing; Jimin was now in a steady, healthy relationship with Hoseok, they’re pushing their three-year anniversary, but Yoongi appreciates him for his clarity all the same.
It had taken him a while to experiment with his newly confirmed sexual awakening. Several encounters of pounding strangers into bedsheets when he went to spend short breaks with Jimin in Busan or Namjoon and Seokjin in Seoul told him that he liked the heat of a man around him. A few more encounters of strangers pounding him helped him realise that, yes, he did like men too, and that things going up the butt was a very good idea indeed.
He eventually settled down in Seoul, getting himself a job teaching small children how to play the piano; a homage to the lessons he’d taken as a child because it was the only extra curriculum activity he’d taken that the teachers hadn’t had to call his parents for to explain to them that Yoongi just seems so unmotivated.
He’d told himself it would only be for a few years, that the pay was good whilst he focused on his music career, but that was a while ago now and he still hasn’t left that line of work.
Rather, it’s all worked out for the better, because that was how he met Jeongguk.
Their first meeting took place in the front office of the school where Yoongi was teaching music at the time. He was hanging around after hours, waiting for Taehyung to hurry up and finish giving his teacher training papers to Seokjin for a look over so they could catch the subway back together, when a young man had wondered past, dressed in sweat pants and butt-ugly trainers and looking for all the world like he had no idea where he was.
“Are you lost?” Yoongi had asked him. He’d worried this man might be a stranger from the streets, because the children had been picked up from school a few hours ago, unless they had after school activities, and this man looked far too young to be a parent.
The man had given him a sunny grin, showing a set of white, slightly larger front teeth. He was tall and tan, broad and oh-so-masculine; everything Yoongi looked for in a lover of the XY persuasion. This just made him more suspicious, that a walking wet dream should stumble into Yoongi’s place of work like this. He set his face in a grim line, readying for the man’s response.
“Is the sports hall nearby?” the man asked. Yoongi detected a lick of a Busan accent about him; the syllables were more drawn out, more lilting like a piano scale, compared to the monotony of the standard Seoul accent Yoongi was used to hearing on a daily basis. “I’m teaching the Taekwondo lessons at six for the Grade 1’s.”
Yoongi frowned at him. “Aren’t you a little young to be a teacher?” he asked.
“Aren’t you a little young for that sweater vest?” the man replied. Yoongi bristled; this sweater vest was a gift from his mother when he got the job, she said it made him look smart. The man’s face had darkened a little, no longer smiling. “Do you know where the sports hall is or not?” the man asked, “I’m going to be late if you don’t tell me.”
The disrespect. Yoongi was about to open his mouth to tell this man where he could stick it, educational environment be damned, when Taehyung bounded in, looking like he’d wondered straight out of K-drama with his curly hair and big glasses. “Ok, I’m ready when you are, Yoongi-hyung!” he beamed, stopping when he sees the man. “Jeongguk!”
“Hyung,” the man said, surprised, and Yoongi was shocked when Taehyung stepped forwards and wrapped the man in a hug.
“What are you doing here, I didn’t know you were in town.”
“I’m meant to be teaching Taekwondo,” the man replied, “I thought Seokjin hyung told you I was coming?”
Yoongi balked. “You know Seokjin hyung as well?” he asked, thoroughly confused. The man ignored him.
“This is so crazy, I’m so pleased you’re working here,” Taehyung beamed, the ray of sunshine that he was. Yoongi was suddenly dying to get home.
“I won’t be for much longer if I don’t get to this class,” the man pointed out and Taehyung nodded enthusiastically.
“I’ll show you where it is, Yoongi hyung, you can wait, right?” he asked, in that way that he did that made it impossible to say no to him. “I see you’ve met Yoongi hyung, the school’s music teacher. He writes all the songs for the school plays, you know,” Taehyung was saying. “Hyung, this is Jeongguk.”
“Charmed,” Yoongi sniffed. Taehyung had led the man away, chattering to him excitedly. Yoongi had ogled his ass moving beneath his sweat pants before he snapped himself out of it. “Who is he?” he’d demanded to know from Taehyung as they’d squashed into the overcrowded subway.
“We play online gaming together sometimes,” Taehyung said. He was being eyed up by a group of giggling business women, but as usual, he was oblivious. “He’s crazy good at Overwatch.”
“How does hyung know him?” Yoongi asked. Someone elbowed him in the back and he repressed a retort.
“They do boxing together,” Taehyung shrugged, referring to Seokjin’s valiant attempt at following his new year’s resolution of finally getting fit.
“Fucking hell.” An old woman tutted at him. Yoongi didn’t care; he was out of office hours, he could curse a blue streak if he wanted to. “Next you’ll be telling me Jimin knows him.”
“He does,” Taehyung said, like it was nothing. “He’s really into the competitive dance circuit. Hobi hyung says he’s amazing.”
Yoongi sneered at him. “Sounds like you’re close.”
“He’s really cool, hyung. I think you’ll like him.”
That was the problem. Yoongi did like him, and for all the wrong reasons. Jeon ‘Call me Jungkook, kids’ Jeongguk was intensely popular at the school, not just with the children but with the other staff as well. Yoongi had already caught Jennie and Lisa, the grade 3 and office secretary giggling about him over lunch one day.
Jeongguk came to the school twice a week to teach the children Taekwondo, and he was good at it. It made Yoongi bitter for his initial dig at the younger man, because it had taken Yoongi a good two years to be able to command children’s attention like that.
He and Jeongguk had exchanged no more than a few polite, if slightly frosty sentences too each other, and most of the time, Taehyung was there to fill any awkward spaces, talking their ears off. It did nothing to remove Yoongi’s impending lust for the younger man, and if he happened to think about the broad of Jeongguk’s shoulders or the sweep of his hair or the jut of his teeth? Well, he couldn’t really be blamed, could he?
He was escorting little Jinwoo back to the front office after his piano lesson where he could be picked up by his guardian when they passed the sports hall where Jeongguk was teaching. Yoongi resisted a peek inside, but it was on his way back to the music room to collect his folder that he found Seokjin observing the Taekwondo lesson.
“Hey,” Seokjin greeted him. Yoongi peeped in. Jeongguk was wearing basketball shorts today and a long-sleeved sports shirt. It clung to his body in all the right places, and his legs. Thick thighs and strong tan calf’s and an arse that made Yoongi want to do things-
“Hyung,” he nodded.
“He’s good,” Seokjin said, as Jeongguk corrected a little girl doing an upwards block, praising her enthusiasm but reminding her to be careful of the other children around her. He looked up to see both the men peering into the room and gave them a nod in acknowledgement, accompanied by a little smile.
“You know one another,” Yoongi said.
“Boxing,” they both said together.
Seokjin gave him a funny look and Yoongi shrugged sheepishly. “Taehyung told me.”
“He was asking about you,” Seokjin said.
“Tae?”
“Jeongguk-ah. He wanted to know if you were always so moody.”
“Son of a bitch,” Yoongi muttered and Seokjin laughed, that braying sound that likened him to a windscreen wiper.
“You know how to make an impression, Min Yoongi, I’ll give you that.”
“We still on for dinner this weekend?” Yoongi asked, trying to distract them from the very fit Taekwondo teacher who was now walking the children through their cool down stretches by demonstrating.
“Of course.” Seokjin, a respectable primary school teacher, never missed a chance for a piss-up. “Joonie wants to go clubbing afterwards.”
“And that is why you are paying for all of my drinks for the evening,” Yoongi replied; it was well known amongst their social circle that Yoongi didn’t enjoy clubbing.
Back in the music room, he sat down at his piano. The school was doing a midterm production of Robin Hood, and Yoongi was in charge of writing all the music. He was chewing on his pen, mulling over some lyrics about how Maid Marian was waiting for her story with Robin Hood to begin, when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he called, thinking it was Seokjin or Tae.
“So, this is where you hide out.” Yoongi tensed. He knew that voice. He turned slowly in his seat to see Jeongguk leaning against the door with his arms crossed. “This is nice,” he said, looking around the music room. Yoongi swallowed. Jeongguk stepped in. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Yoongi swallowed again. And again. He was thinking about Jeongguk’s stomach, a little damp with sweat underneath that T-shirt and how he would lick it if he could. His mouth was just getting wet to compensate. “Musical,” Yoongi coughed. “Robin Hood. Midterm.”
Jeongguk leaned up against the piano, peering at his lyrics and smelling like sweat. He made a face. “That doesn’t rhyme,” he said.
That snapped Yoongi out of his daydream. He was trying, ok? “It doesn’t have to rhyme, they’re ten,” he snapped. “What are you even doing here, go home.”
“I just came to see what you were up to,” Jeongguk said innocently. “After all, you were watching me, I think this is only fair.”
Yoongi had a headache. Jeongguk’s smell, sweat and body spray, was overpowering. He smelt like a man. “You’re a real piece of work,” he muttered.
Jeongguk laughed. “You ditched the sweater vest, I see,” he said. So, Yoongi had been trying a different style lately. That had absolutely nothing to do with Jeongguk being at the school. Maybe he just felt like mixing it up and wearing a smarter shirt and pants?
“I’m going to go home now,” Yoongi said calmly.
“You taking the subway?”
“Seokjin hyung’s giving me a lift.”
”Oh cool, me too.” And Jeongguk was smirking at him now, vivaciously so. “Relax, hyung, we’re going to the gym together. The lyrics look good,” he said as he turned to leave, allowing Yoongi to fumble frantically for his coat and bag. It was only when he was winding his scarf around his neck that he realised Jeongguk had called him hyung.
Presumptive little shit, Yoongi thought to himself.
So why the fuck was he smiling?
That Saturday had rolled around like all others did. Yoongi had enjoyed a wonderful lie in, had leisurely drunk coffee and smoked cigarettes whilst listening to classical music on the small record player his brother had brought for him last birthday, and had had the time to cook himself an actual lunch of pasta and pork and cream sauce. He’d also done himself a bowl of haejangguk, ready to go the next day so he could stick it in the microwave when he was inevitably hungover and a wreck. He’d learned from past experience that there was nothing worse than trying to cook meat when you felt like the world was going to fall out through your anus.
As the evening rolled around, Jimin texted him to let him know he was going to come over earlier so that the two of them could get ready together. A tradition from their younger years, Yoongi still humoured the younger man. They didn’t get to spend a lot of time together during the week. Jimin, alongside his ‘business partner’ (see; boyfriend) Hoseok, ran their own dance study in downtown Gangnam. They ran classes for both children and adults, with Jimin focusing on a more modern theatrical style of dance, whilst Hoseok was one of the best street dancers Yoongi had ever seen.
He’d met Jimin when he was in the army, desperately trying to make his relationship with his ex-girlfriend work, and Jimin had been a pillar of strength for him. Likewise, Yoongi had been there since the early fruition of Jimin and Hoseok’s relationship; a rocky time, as he was friends with both of them and it had been difficult to watch them pine after one another. The day Hoseok had snogged Jimin when high on god knows what had been a blessed one, because whilst they had taken a difficult route to get there, they were at least expressing their feelings for one another.
Now they had a dog and an apartment and a business. If same-sex marriage were legal, Yoongi didn’t doubt they’d be engaged.
Jimin rocked into his apartment with all the finesse of a Saturday night on the town, meaning: he looked very glamourous, and also a little bit tipsy.
“It’s four thirty in the afternoon,” Yoongi pointed out as his friend threw his arms around him.
“You see four thirty, I see more time to drink. I’ve missed you,” Jimin replied, kissing his cheek. He sniffed. “You stink of smoke.”
“You smell like whiskey.”
“Excuse me, this is cologne, and it was expensive, I’ll have you know.” Jimin plopped down on the bed, opening his makeup bag as Yoongi handed him a beer and kept on for himself. Jimin turned to him and took his hands. “Shower and then I’ll do your makeup.”
“Jimin…”
“Please?” Jimin begged, all pretty lips and bedroom eyes. “I’ll do it naturally, I swear. No glitter this time. Taehyung is doing his.” Because Taehyung looks pretty in makeup, Yoongi didn’t point out but he was already heading towards his bathroom to shower.
He stripped down and waited for the water to warm up, ducking under the spray to lather himself up with the expensive shower gel his parents gave him when they last visited the UK. It smelt expensive, so naturally Yoongi only used when he planned on getting thoroughly fucked up.
He washed his hair and debated if he had time to tug one out whilst he waited for his conditioner to work its magic. In the end he didn’t, because he couldn’t quite forget that Jimin was sitting in the bedroom right next door, drinking beer and applying BB cream. They were close, but not like that.
Yoongi reminds himself of this when Jimin leans in and takes a big whiff of his neck. “Much better,” he beams, already throwing pots of moisturizer to find something to help Yoongi’s tricky skin. “So, listen,” he said as he dabbed cream onto Yoongi’s T-zone. “Hobi is thinking of entering the dance team into some local competitions. I told him to ask you about maybe doing some music for it, but you know what he’s like.”
“Sure. Just get him to tell me what ideas he’s got, I can work out something for him,” Yoongi said as Jimin tapped his face to help the moisturizer sink in. “How is everything with you guys?” Jimin didn’t look up from where he was dipping a clean beauty blender into BB cream. “Jimin?”
“They’re ok,” Jimin murmured quietly, but he was devoting a lot more attention to Yoongi’s makeup than he needed to be. “He’s been working a lot lately.” Yoongi could sense there was more. Jimin stopped mid dab. “Actually, there is something…” he said quietly. “His parents. They still don’t know about us. They think we’re just roommates. And we went to stay with his parents last weekend, just for a long weekend? He was miserable the whole time and got really mad at me for no reason. And his parents don’t like me anyway, they think I’m a bad influence on him…” Jimin looked so defeated and sad. Yoongi gave his hands a squeeze, careful not to get makeup on himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, wrapping Jimin in a hug. Jimin sniffed, leaning back and rubbing his cheek.
“Don’t apologise,” he said, “I’ll deal with him, don’t worry. Tonight, I just wanna get fucked up, maybe find you someone to sleep with.”
“Uh, no,” Yoongi says, blinking when Jimin resumes patting his cheek with his beauty blender.
“But I’m making hyung so pretty!” Jimin mock gasped, and Yoongi shoved him. Jimin fell about laughing, and Yoongi decided he didn’t care what Jimin did to him, as long as it cheered him up.
He thought about his friends’ relationship as he and Jimin rode the subway to the restaurant in Hongdae where they were meeting the rest of their friends. At this point, Jimin and Hoseok had been dating for around six months. They’d known each other for much longer, having met through the Seoul dance circuit, and had opened their dance studio together about a year previously.
To the untrained eye, they were what one might refer to as ‘relationship goals’. They lived together in a nice little apartment large enough to fit the two of them and Mickey, Hoseok’s (and Jimin’s adopted) dog. Their close circle of friends was supportive of their relationship, their business was doing well. To anyone else, it would seem ideal.
Alas, not everything was what it seemed. Every so often, Hoseok would go through these bouts of hopelessness, which Yoongi suspected came from the fact that his parents did not know he was bisexual and dating another man. Yoongi knew from first-hand experience how sad it could make someone, holding in a secret like that. Jimin’s parents had always prepared themselves for the possibility that their eldest son might one day bring home a man to introduce them to, but Hoseok’s family really had no idea. And Jimin, bless him, had the patience of a saint but it could get taxing for him at times, because Hoseok had a bad habit of unloading his pent-up frustration onto those closest to him. Because they sent so much time together, Jimin was often the first in the firing line.
They were swaying a bit already, in a way that had nothing to do with the rocking motion of the subway. Once they’d got through their beers, Jimin had decided to explore his uncharted passion for cocktail making, and by the time they left his flat, Yoongi’s head was feeling a little lighter, his vision a bit fuzzy.
The restaurant they went to was busy, a little place that did all-you-can-eat buffets for a set price. It wouldn’t be Yoongi’s first choice, but the club was just down the street, and they planned on drinking, so the less walking involved, the better.
Hoseok, Seokjin and Namjoon were already there, bottles already ordered. It had been a while, so Hoseok wrapped Yoongi in a hug when he saw him, grinning bold and bright. His eyes were a little glassy, cheeks a little red but Yoongi didn’t miss the way Jimin still melted a bit when Hoseok gently touched his cheek and mouth, “you look beautiful”. Yoongi sat down next to Namjoon, reaching for a drink.
“Hyung,” Namjoon greeted him with a hand on his shoulder.
They had a strange relationship, Yoongi and Namjoon. Yoongi had always thought Namjoon was everything he’d wanted to be when he was younger. Granted, he was nowhere near idol status, but Namjoon had a successful following in the underground rap scene and had even helped to produce some tracks for some up-and-coming mainstream artists. Yoongi wouldn’t say he was jealous of Namjoon, of his youth and career, but… well, his music was a far reach from Yoongi’s Robin Hood: The Musical, let’s just leave it there. “Where’s Taehyung?” Yoongi asked looking around the table. There was a distinct lack of the honey-blonde boy.
“He’s on his way,” Jimin replied breezily. When Yoongi looked over, he was gazing longingly at Hoseok so Yoongi left him to it. He took a swig of his beer, when he realised something. He looked round the table, counting the placemats. One, two, three, four, five, six… seven? Who was the seventh member of their motley crew?
“Is someone else coming?” Yoongi asked. The table went quiet. Yoongi looked around. “Is Jackson coming?” he asked Namjoon, knowing that the Chinese man sometimes tagged along on their nights out with his friends. “Or Lisa?”
“Sorry we’re late,” a deep voice boomed, as Taehyung came striding over. “Someone was taking ages to do his hair.”
“That’s rich,” another voice said, one that Yoongi knew all too well. “Coming from the man wearing makeup.”
“Jeongguk-ah,” Seokjin grinned, standing up to make space for Taehyung to squeeze past him to sit down on Yoongi’s other side. Yoongi was staring at Jeongguk, mouth open slightly as Jeongguk slid of the leather jacket he was wearing to reveal tattoos?
It occurred to Yoongi, as he stared at the expanse of inked skin before him, that he had never seen Jeongguk expose his arms. And with good reason. Jeongguk would never be allowed to teach in a school with the number of tattoos he had on show.
They curled all up his forearms and across his biceps; little splodges of ink marking his skin. Yoongi followed the line up to his short sleeves, and he wondered how many more Jeongguk had hidden under his clothes.
Then he realised what he was doing and took a deep swig of his drink. “What are you doing here?” he demanded as Jeongguk settled into the seat opposite him. Jeongguk raised an eyebrow.
“I was invited,” he said coolly.
“I invited him,” Seokjin added. “Seeing as he knows all of us in one way or another.”
“I don’t know him,” Yoongi pointed out miserably, “Does Namjoon?”
“I do actually,” Namjoon said and Yoongi rolled his eyes, muttering “of course you do”, under his breath. “Jeongguk did some work experience at the studio when he was younger. I wanted him to do some tracks, it’s a shame you didn’t stick with it. You’ve got a great voice,” Namjoon said to the younger man. Jeongguk blushed and the tips of his ears went red.
Dinner progressed with lots of food and alcohol. The more Yoongi drank, the more his vision begun to blur, and he found himself squinting at Jeongguk’s tattoos more and more. “Do you like them?” Jeongguk asked.
“Huh?” Yoongi blinked. Jeongguk held out his arm.
“You keep looking at my tattoos. If you wanted to see, all you had to do was ask.” “
You’re too young for tattoos,” Yoongi said firmly. Then he added suspiciously, “How old are you?” He’d heard Jeongguk call Taehyung hyung, so he knew he had to be younger.
“Twenty-one,” Jeongguk confirmed, folding his broad arms across his broader chest.
“A baby,” Yoongi said without thinking and Jeongguk’s lips curved into a secret smile.
“That’s what you think,” he said.
Then Hoseok was leaning across the table. “Namjoon and I are going to smoke,” he said to Yoongi, “You coming?” Yoongi nodded. When he stood up, the room swayed.
Outside the restaurant, tucked up together in the corner, the three men lit up their cigarettes. Hoseok looked around and then showed them a small bag of weed he’d brought. “Bloody hell,” Yoongi muttered, “Does Jimin know?”
“Who do you think smoked the rest of it with me?” Hoseok asked, tucking it away in his jacket pocket. “We’ll smoke it later, back at the apartment, yeah?”
Just then, Taehyung and Jimin fell out of the restaurant, screeching. Jimin wrapped an arm around Hoseok and tried to kiss him on the mouth. Seokjin and Jeongguk followed behind them. “I’ve paid,” Seokjin said, “But let’s get this club out of the way, before anyone gets too drunk and has to go home.”
The club was only a five-minute walk away, but with Taehyung’s baby gazelle legs and all of them drunk as skunks, it took them thrice as long to get there. It was a club Yoongi had been to many times, that went by the name of Ace. Ace was famed in the underground for the inclusivity of its patrons, making it a popular place for minority Koreans and tourists alike.
Yoongi was honestly shocked that the bouncers let them in, because Taehyung and Jimin had begun a startling rendition of the national anthem in the line to get in, before Seokjin had shut them down with a look that Namjoon called his Teacher Face.
Once inside, the music was thumping, the drinks were flowing. Yoongi fought his way to the bar, holding the back of Jeongguk’s shirt to make sure he wasn’t lost in a sea of bodies. “What are you having?” Jeongguk asked him. Yoongi mimed to his ear to imply he couldn’t hear, so Jeongguk hooked a hand round the back of his neck and pulled him close. “What do you want to drink?” he said loudly.
“I should be buying you the drink,” Yoongi shouted back, “I’m the elder one, you called me hyung, I should do it!” He tried to get a hand on the bar but Jeongguk pushed him away with a shake of his head.
“You can buy me one next time,” he said with a wink.
They ordered drinks and then split to find everyone. Yoongi found Hoseok and Jimin making out against the wall, whilst Namjoon was chatting to some foreign girls. Yoongi had always envied his fluency in English.
It was when he was scoping out his people that he realized what Jeongguk had said: next time. A shiver broke down his spine as he turned to look for broad shoulders and tattoos. He didn’t find Jeongguk, but instead spotted another man. This guy was slimmer than Jeongguk but slightly taller; his hairstyle was similar, and he had a tattoo on his hand. He was looking right back at Yoongi as well.
Yoongi went to the bar, waiting for the man to approach him. When he did, he grabbed Yoongi in much the same way Jeongguk had, asking him was he was drinking. They chatted for a bit, the man’s hand resting low on the base of Yoongi’s spine. He didn’t catch his name, but that didn’t matter to Yoongi. It wasn’t like he’d need to remember it for what he had in mind.
Just when he was getting ready to ask the man if he wanted to slip away to the nearest bathroom for a blowjob, someone grabbed his wrist. “Yoongi hyung,” Jeongguk said.
Yoongi turned to him, glaring at him. “I’m busy.”
Jeongguk’s eyes raked over the man and he straightened up, flexing his shoulders. “Seokjin hyung sent me to find you,” he said, his voice deeper and Yoongi tried not to laugh. That was, until Jeongguk added, “Taehyung-ah threw up everywhere, everyone is waiting outside.”
“Oh shit.” Yoongi’s hook-up left forgotten, he followed Jeongguk out of the club, where everyone stood around waiting. Taehyung was shivering with Jimin wrapping an arm around him protectively. Namjoon was on the phone and Seokjin looked tired.
“We need to call a cab,” he said when he saw Yoongi. Yoongi knelt in front of Taehyung.
“Did you mix your drinks again?” he asked gently, petting Taehyung’s hair when the boy nodded miserably.
Namjoon turned to them. “We can get four people in the cab,” he said.
“Taehyung can stay with us tonight,” Hoseok piped up. Jimin nodded.
“You go in the cab with him, take the keys,” he said, “I’ll get the subway.”
“No way,” Hoseok said. “I’m not comfortable with you walking around on your own when you’ve been drinking.”
“I’ll go with Jimin,” Yoongi spoke up.
“I’ll stay with him,” Jeongguk offered at the same time. They looked at each other. Before Yoongi could say anything else, Seokjin clapped his hands.
“Alright, good,” he says, “Hobi, Joonie and I will take Taehyung back to the apartment, and you three meet us there?”
They disbanded, Jimin throwing an arm around Yoongi’s shoulder. He hooked onto Jeongguk with the other arm. “I didn’t want to say anything, cos I didn’t want to worry Hoseok, but I don’t think I can walk very well,” he said cheerfully.
Jeongguk cut Yoongi a look, who rolled his eyes and nodded, and the two of them helped Jimin back to the nearest subway station. It took them a while to find everyone’s tickets, with Jeongguk shielding them from a train guard who was watching them suspiciously when Yoongi had to dig his hands into the back pockets of Jimin’s skin tight jeans in order to find his card.
“I swear it was in there,” Jimin protested as Yoongi tried not to accidently cop a feel. Yoongi scowled as he pulled out lip balm, a crumpled-up tissue that had been left in the pocket when Jimin washed his jeans, his phone and then, finally, his travel pass.
People gave them a wide berth on the train. Yoongi had forced Jimin into a seat, because he feared that he might fall over without the support. He hadn’t counted for the drinks he’d had at the club hitting him all at once under the intense lighting of the carriage, and he swayed a little too far when the carriage rocked. A hand reached out to catch him; Jeongguk.
He gripped a fistful of Yoongi’s jumper, holding him steady till Yoongi regained his balance and then some. It made Yoongi feel a little woozy, seeing the corner of one of Jeongguk’s tattoos peeping out under his sleeve.
“I like your shirt, hyung,” Jeongguk said.
“I like your face,” Yoongi snapped back and Jeongguk laughed. “Seriously, it’s a nice face.” Yoongi’s accent was slipping into Satoori and he tried to keep a control of his mouth. Unfortunately, his brain wasn’t quite with the program, because he said, “Why is it such a nice face?”
“You tell me, you’re the one who seems to like it so much.” Jeongguk rubbed the ground with the toe of his shoe. “Sorry I cockblocked you back in there.”
“You should be,” Yoongi said miserably, “I was ready to see some action. It's been so long since I got a good fuck. Jimin made me all pretty and everything.”
“He did,” Jeongguk agreed, “But wouldn’t you rather have the real thing?”
Yoongi was about to ask him what he meant when Jimin tugged on his sleeve. Grateful for the distraction, Yoongi stooped to listen but it was only for Jimin to profess them his undying love.
Of the train, they stumbled back to Hoseok and Jimin’s apartment. When Jimin unlocked the door, Mickey greeted them all excitedly, tail thumping. Jimin bent over to give him kisses and nearly overbalanced.
“I’m alive, hyung!” he called to Hoseok, who was rolling joints on the couch. He handed one to Yoongi and Jeongguk. “Yoongi hyung and Jeongguk-ah kept me all safe,” Jimin said proudly. Yoongi looked up to see Jeongguk smirking at him and he flushed.
Half an hour later, he was high as a kite. Namjoon and Seokjin had broken out the karaoke machine, but that wasn’t Yoongi’s thing. He went to sit out in the hallway, away from the noise to try and control how dizzy he felt.
“You want some coffee?” a voice asked. Yoongi opened his eyes to find Jeongguk, holding two steaming mugs.
“Coffee sounds amazing,” he said. Jeongguk sat down beside him, handing him a mug. Yoongi frowned at him suspiciously. “You’re not high?” he asked and Jeongguk shrugged.
“A little, I guess…Don’t tell hyung but I didn’t smoke that much, weed gives me a headache.” He smiled a little. “But look at you, Mr Teacher. Never thought I’d see you high.”
“Fuck off…” Yoongi muttered with no bite. “There’s plenty of things about me you haven’t seen.”
Jeongguk rubbed at the knees of his torn jeans. “And if I wanted to see those things?” he asked quietly. Yoongi snorted on his coffee.
“Are you joking?” he asked and when Jeongguk shook his head, completely serious, Yoongi sighed. “What do you want?”
“I like you,” Jeongguk shrugged, “Wasn’t that obvious?”
“I mean, I had a feeling,” Yoongi mumbled.
“And I saw you, flirting with that man. Looked a little bit like me, don’t you think?”
“Jeongguk-”
“Do you like me, hyung?”
“Look, Jeongguk, you’re really handsome, ok? But you’re also really young.”
“I’m only four years younger than you,” Jeongguk pointed out. Understanding bloomed on his face. “You think I don’t have experience, is that it?”
“Oh, I know you don’t have experience,” Yoongi muttered into his coffee cup, taking another sip. Jeongguk nudged him.
“Come for a drink with me. We’ll get food, let me show you. I can do dates. You’ll like it.”
“That’s very presumptive of you,” Yoongi said and Jeongguk shrugged.
“I know I’m good,” he replied and then leaned closer. “Both in and out of the bedroom. Better than some cheap lay in a nightclub.”
Yoongi had spluttered coffee all down his shirt again. Then he thought about it. “You get one date,” he said firmly, “And when I have a terrible time, you will stop communicating with me and being around me, looking like how you do, do you understand?”
“Sure,” Jeongguk smirked, “But you won’t hate it. Trust me.”
*
Yoongi hadn’t hated their first date. In fact, he’d had a great time, with Jeongguk taking him for food and drinks at a jazz bar in Cheongdam-dong. They’d drunk fancy cocktails and listened to the smooth music, and Jeongguk had worn a button up shirt but hadn’t actually done up the top three buttons, teasing Yoongi with hints of an inked chest that Yoongi wanted to put his mouth on.
He hadn’t, had merely bid Jeongguk farewell at the entrance of the subway station with a grudging confession that he’d had a nice time. It hadn’t felt right though, what with Jeongguk being the younger of the two that he’d footed to bill for the night, so Yoongi had asked him for coffee the following weekend. When Jeongguk went to grab his wallet, Yoongi slapped his hand. “No,” he’d said, “I’m the hyung, I’ll pay.”
Jeongguk had smirked.
Coffee had been followed up by another meeting. This one had been on a Friday night, to the local cinema to watch the new Avengers movie. Yoongi had hated it. Jeongguk loved it. From the cinema it was to a sushi bar, and from the sushi bar it was to the bar, and from the bar it was to the subway station where Yoongi had kissed Jeongguk for the first time in a secluded spot, lips tasting like expresso and liqueur. When Jeongguk had deepened the kiss, pressing forwards for more, Yoongi had gently pushed him away, whilst simultaneously pushing a scrap of paper with his address written on it in into his hand. “Come to this address tomorrow, I’ll make it worth your while,” Yoongi had promised.
And he had. Jeongguk had shown up the next day, looking nervous and so young for the first time since Yoongi had met him, carrying a bottle of white wine. Yoongi had made them bulgogi from scratch with lots of banchan, and when they’d had their fill of food, they sat on the couch and talked about their lives, their pasts, their hopes. They split the wine between them, refilling their glasses back and forth till the bottle was empty. Jeongguk had stuttered a breath when he realised, hands twisting in his pants. “The wine’s gone,” he said. Yoongi hummed and stubbed out his cigarette.
“I know.”
“So, what do we do now?” Rising to his feet, Yoongi had scratched his chest, arm hooked under his shirt to tease Jeongguk with the sight of his flat stomach. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to bed.” He’d turned to Jeongguk at the door. “You coming?”
Jeongguk blinked for a moment and then he was on his feet, stumbling clumsily after Yoongi like a lost child.
They fucked three times that night, once with Yoongi on his front and twice on his back, because Jeongguk was a machine once he’d got over the initial nerves. He’d been unstoppable, and Yoongi didn’t remember the last time he got fucked so good. When he’d woken up the next morning, he’d pressed kisses into the tattoos on Jeongguk’s chest as the younger man snuggled into him, stealing the blanket and sighing happily.
And somehow, two and a half years later, here they still are. A lot has changed in that time. Yoongi quit his job working at the school (the line had been crossed when the higher ups asked him to write the music for the school’s production of The Little Mermaid whilst finding a way to incorporate Baby Shark), instead taking up teaching piano privately to children in the area near their apartment. In his free time, he worked on music, collaborating with local artists to help them produce their tracks.
Jeongguk had switched teaching Taekwondo for dancing, and now taught street dance to little children in Hoseok and Jimin’s dance studio. He was also a member of Hoseok’s professional dance team, going up for competitions and even assisting in the choreography.
They’d moved in together, in a little apartment with a big window that overlooked the city skyline. It wasn’t large, but it was cosy, and they’d filled it with little parts of each of them, as well as two furry babies by the names of Holly and Gureum. On holidays, they split themselves between Busan and Daegu, and had even managed some trips further afield together; the most recent had seen them go to New York for the first time, which Jeongguk in particular had loved.
No, this wasn’t the life Yoongi had imagined for himself when he was younger. But he isn’t complaining.
He wakes up, one breezy April morning to the feeling of Jeongguk moving on top of him. Slitting open his eyes, Yoongi can see planes of broad inked skin, can feel the firmness of Jeongguk hard against his hip and he hums happily, scrubbing his nails up Jeongguk’s back to listen to the other man grunt softly.
“Morning, baby,” he says, moaning contentedly when Jeongguk attaches their mouths. Morning breath is no longer something that bothers either of them too much, and Yoongi kisses him happily before Jeongguk resumes the lazy rutting against his thigh. It’s a Saturday; neither of them has anywhere they need to be, and they can take their time.
“I wanna suck you off,” Jeongguk murmurs and Yoongi nods, nibbles his lips in agreement, a pathetic pile of wet noodles on the bedsheets when Jeongguk starts to kiss down his body. Jeongguk tongues at his nipple, wets the puckering skin with his mouth, slides a hand down into Yoongi’s boxers as he kisses down his sternum to his hipbone and it feels so good, just a little more to the centre- “Shit,” Jeongguk mutters, pulling away suddenly.
He rises and falls of the bed. Yoongi sits up and looks around sleepily, confused as to why Jeongguk would halt his ministrations just when they were getting to the good bit, till he sees Jeongguk carrying a little furry white ball. “You let the dogs in?” he whines, throwing an arm over his eyes.
“They want to go for a walk, it’s not their fault,” Jeongguk replies. Yoongi can hear him talking to Gureum, who he knows favours Jeongguk. It’s because the younger man cuddles him more. Yoongi doesn’t like getting white fur all over his clothes. “Gureum, Holly, you need to wait,” Jeongguk is saying out in the living room, “We’ll go out in a bit, daddy’s busy right now.”
Despite himself, Yoongi’s dick twitches hard in his pants and he moans softly, pathetically. They’ve been together for two years, and they know everything about each other. Well… almost everything.
The truth is that Yoongi is harbouring a dark secret. You see, Min Yoongi has a daddy kink. That’s right, a daddy kink. As in, he gets really turned on by the thought of being dominated by a man and calling him daddy in bed. And whilst Jeongguk was a good four years younger than him, he was taller and broader than Yoongi, muscled and tattooed and he calls himself daddy when he talks to the-
Ok, Yoongi is fully aware that it’s fucked up that he gets turned on when Jeongguk calls himself daddy around the dogs. He feels like a pervert, because it’s not untrue. Jeongguk is the dogs’ daddy. It’s just sometimes, Yoongi wishes he’d be his daddy too.
Speaking of daddy. Jeongguk comes back into the room, using his foot to gently nudge Holly out of the way and shutting the door firmly. He turns back to Yoongi, who has a hand cupping himself, and his pupils dilate. “Fucking hell, baby,” he murmurs and Yoongi gasps softly. That was the only hint he’d ever given to Jeongguk that he thought of him with a more dominating personality in bed.
Three months into their relationship, curled up in the bath together. Yoongi had traced the Euphoria tattoo on Jeongguk’s forearm, the little black see-saw underneath it. Jeongguk was placing innocent kisses behind his ear as they sweated in the hot water, unlikely to get out until it was cold around them. “I like being called baby,” Yoongi had said softly and Jeongguk bit his earlobe.
“Yeah, hyung? You wanna be my baby?” he’d asked, and Yoongi had moaned, had turned around and climbed into Jeongguk’s lap and rode him till there was more water on the bathroom floor than in the bathtub itself.
It isn’t, Yoongi thinks as Jeongguk strips himself of his clothes and climbs back onto the bed, that he can’t tell Jeongguk that he wants to try calling him daddy. It’s just that he won’t. There’s something about it that Yoongi doesn’t fully understand himself, and he doesn’t want to make Jeongguk feel uncomfortable or weird (although they’ve probably tried weirder).
Yoongi takes his hand and kisses it; kisses over the BABY inked across Jeongguk’s knuckles. It had been an anniversary present when they’d celebrated two years together. Jeongguk gets him naked and dives in, ever the enthusiast, and the warm wet of his mouth around Yoongi’s cock feels incredible. He fists Jeongguk’s hair and arches into it, panting around the effort of trying to control his moans, because thin walls. The Ajumma who lives next door to them is still convinced they’re just two friends who live together, and Yoongi doesn’t want to shatter her illusion.
It’s hard though, when Jeongguk keeps going down on him, and it’s so noisy, slurping and sucking and humming happily. Yoongi pulls hard on the dark silk of Jeongguk’s hair, groaning as Jeongguk pulls off and runs a warm tongue over his hipbones. “Shower good later, I’ll eat you out,” he says, voice croaky.
Yoongi moans at the thought. “It’s your turn,” he says weakly, but he’ll never turn down a good rimming. Jeongguk slithers up his body, pale and bare in comparison to Jeongguk’s tanned tattooed skin, and kisses him, letting Yoongi lick into his mouth. “I feel younger when I’m with you,” Yoongi confesses, licking the salty sweet of himself from Jeongguk’s lips. Since getting with Jeongguk, his diet had consisted of a lot more fruit, especially pineapple, and he must say, it’s paid off.
Jeongguk stares down at him for a moment, their fingers locking besides Yoongi’s head. He looks deep in thought, and Yoongi’s heart pulses against his chest. “Fuck my face?” Jeongguk asks, and he looks so fucking innocent, how did-
Yoongi shoves him over onto his back, kneeling with his legs straddling his chest and feeding his cock back into Jeongguk’s greedy mouth. They both moan eagerly as Yoongi rocks his hips. Jeongguk’s eyes are half lidded and he sucks enthusiastically.
“Jeongguk- Fuck- Da-amn, baby, yes!” Yoongi whispers, catching himself at the last second. Jeongguk’s hands slide greedily up his back and then back down to the round of Yoongi’s ass where he smacks him, hard, and squeezes the supple flesh. The sting of it has Yoongi hissing and coming, riding it out as Jeongguk swallows around him and the headboard knocks softly into the wall.
His orgasm leaves him feeling weak, and Yoongi collapses onto his side lying still whilst Jeongguk presses greedy kisses to his throat, eager to get himself off. “Easy, easy,” he soothes as Jeongguk whines in his ear, hips rocking happily. Yoongi lets him rut against his hip, gives Jeongguk two long thin piano fingers to suck on and then slides them down to tease at Jeongguk’s crack. The younger man hiccups and moans, coming against Yoongi’s hip.
They lie panting in the afterglow, sharing airspace. Yoongi moves Jeongguk’s hair out of his face and kisses him softly. “I love you,” Jeongguk says. Yoongi still can’t get over it. It makes him feel warm and happy, from the very hair on his head all the way down to the tips of his toes.
There’s a scrabbling at the door. Yoongi can hear Holly whining outside and he groans. “They need the toilet,” he murmurs and Jeongguk huffs.
“You want me to walk them?”
“Shower first and we’ll go together,” Yoongi says. He takes Jeongguk’s hand and pulls him into the bathroom. Stepping into the bath, Yoongi starts up the water, Jeongguk slipping in behind him.
His strong arms wrap around Yoongi’s waist and he presses butterfly kisses to Yoongi’s neck and shoulder. “I can’t go again,” Yoongi warns him. “I’m not a young man anymore.”
“You’re twenty-eight.” “Practically middle age,” Yoongi says and Jeongguk kisses him. They shower up quick, because there was nothing worse than having to clean dog shit off of the floor.
When they enter the main room of the apartment, Holly is on him in a second, pawing at his leg. “I know, baby, hello.” Yoongi bends to scoop him up and give him some much-needed attention as Jeongguk returns with the dog leashes.
The streets aren’t too busy when they head out, walking the dogs the usual route they do, taking them down by the river. When there’s no one around, Jeongguk links their pinkies together. It makes Yoongi blush, so Jeongguk swings their interlocked hands just to make him do it more.
They walk together as the dogs bound on ahead, let of the leash due to lack of people for them to bother. Yoongi inhales and blows smoke from a vape pen; he’d tried to make an effort to stop smoking because Jeongguk had sheepishly admitted he didn’t like it one night when they’d shared more than a few glasses of wine.
They stay out for hours, aiming to tire out the dogs so they won’t be as excitable when they get back. They’re going to Namjoon’s for dinner with the guys later that evening, and Yoongi would feel a lot better knowing the dogs were in the apartment, asleep rather than running around breaking things.
The Ajumma from next door is trying to carry her shopping bags up the stairs when they get back to the flat, so Yoongi takes Gureum and Holly back to their apartment whilst Jeongguk assists her with getting her things up to her flat.
By the time he gets back, Yoongi has already got the cooked on and is heating butter and garlic in the frying pan to make lunch. Jeongguk floats up behind him with a hand on his back. “What are you making?” he asks.
“Those steaks need using up,” Yoongi replies; he doesn’t bother asking Jeongguk to help, because the younger man is already doing so, getting the chopping board and seasoning out that they’ll need to prep the meat. Taehyung is forever complaining how unfair it is that they got together, because they’re both very kitchen competent. Fortunately, Yoongi tolerates him coming over multiple times a week to steal their leftovers and listen to him rant about the parents in the private school he teaches at.
Jeongguk turns the speak on, sets up his Spotify. He likes a lot of Western music, and he sings along in heavily-accented English. Yoongi sinks further into the warmth of the kitchen; Jeongguk’s voice is so soft and creamy, but powerful when he wants it to be. He swears he wasn’t trained (a white lie debunked by his mother the first time Yoongi spent Christmas with them), and the control he poses on his voice is crazy good.
“I want you to sing a song for me,” Yoongi tells him as Jeongguk chops vegetables to the beat. “A proper one, that we can record.”
“Shut up,” Jeongguk mutters but he’s blushing. It’s Yoongi’s turn to get revenge so he sings along as well, badly, dancing up behind Jeongguk and swaying his hips. Jeongguk barks a laugh, loud and sweet and Yoongi sighs happily about how domestic it all is.
He’s happy, he realises, and when he was younger, he’d been convinced that the secret to his happiness lay in material goods. He’d drilled it into his mind that if only he could get a big house, lots of money, fancy clothes, maybe then he’d be happy. But he’s come to the conclusion that all he really needs is this. Their little Seoul apartment, him and Jeongguk and their dogs.
After lunch, they have a few hours free before they go to Namjoon’s. Yoongi sits on the couch to work on some music when Jeongguk flops down next to him, wriggles around till he can get his head on Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi winces and shoves his arm when Jeongguk’s head presses too hard against his crotch, and then they’re settling into their afternoon.
“What are you working on?” Jeongguk asks as he scrolls through his phone.
“Jimin asked me to compose some music for his teen class,” Yoongi replies, not looking up from his laptop. His friend is trying to get the team up for an under-eighteen dance competition taking place in Busan in a few months, and Yoongi is charged with mixing the music. Jimin hinted that he’d be open to some original material also, hoping that having some new music would show the judges something they hadn’t seen before.
Jeongguk sits up when Yoongi hands him some earbuds to play him his latest piece. After such a long time together, Yoongi trusts him to be his harshest critic. Jeongguk has a good ear for music, and isn’t afraid to tell Yoongi what he thinks. Some of their best sexual encounters have come out of Jeongguk telling Yoongi he didn’t like his latest work.
“It’s good,” Jeongguk says, neat brows pinched. Yoongi waits.
“But…?”
“No but, it just needs something more. What’s the concept?”
“Hidden faces,” Yoongi mumbles, fiddling with his track placements. “You know Jimin, he loves dramatics. Last I spoke to him, he was thinking about incorporating blindfolds. And masks.”
Jeongguk hums. He reaches over, taps one of Yoongi’s pre-recorded drum tracks. “Add that, then loop it.”
Yoongi blinks and does as he’s told. They sit, sharing headphones. “Huh,” he murmurs, but it’s enough to give him the boost that he needs.
“You remember the days when you wrote music for school productions?” Jeongguk asks, wicked grin on his face.
“Jeongguk, I swear to god-”
“How did that one about the solar system go again?” Jeongguk opens his mouth, but Yoongi silences him by slamming a palm over his jaw, ignoring when Jeongguk licks a big wet strip up his hand.
“Gross, you’re worse than the dogs.”
“You like it,” Jeongguk replies, and then he kisses Yoongi’s palm. Yoongi tries to work one handed, but he’s distracted as Jeongguk kisses up his hand, moving to his long piano fingers and then sucking two of them into his mouth.
“Jeongguk.”
“Mm?” Jeongguk hums, sounding sleepy and rough. Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what, baby?”
Yoongi shudders, tries not to think about how badly he wants to be Jeongguk’s baby, wants Jeongguk to be his daddy. “I can’t go again, not after this morning.”
Jeongguk whines around his fingers. “You think?”
“I’m not young like you,” Yoongi points out. Jeongguk moves his laptop out of his hands and slides manoeuvres Yoongi onto his lap. He strokes the hair at the base of his neck.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that today,” he muses softly and Yoongi squirms.
“It’s true,” he points out, trying not to pout and Jeongguk hums, shifting his weight so that they’re even closer.
“I love you, you know that, right? Even when you’re a grandpa who likes to take naps-”
“A perfectly reasonable pass time.”
“And when you don’t speak for hours at a time-”
“That’s like you with your computer games-”
“I love you, Yoongi.” Yoongi stops trying to come up with a smart answer to everything. He cups Jeongguk’s face, fingers stretched to rub the skin of the back of his neck, where he knows Jeongguk’s wings are tattooed, stretching up to the base of his skull. It’s hidden by his hair, only visible when he gets an undercut shaved in. Yoongi loves it.
“I love you too,” he says. Jeongguk kisses him softly, humming happily against his mouth and shifting Yoongi closer on him lap. “Babe…”
“I know,” Jeongguk murmurs, Yoongi’s lower lip caught between his teeth. “We should start getting ready.”
“You should,” Yoongi mutters, extracting himself and climbing of off Jeongguk’s lap.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can be ready in ten minutes, it takes you at least an hour.”
“I like my hair to look good,” Jeongguk retorts under his breath but he’s already going to their bedroom to start getting ready. Yoongi sighs and pulls Holly onto his lap, stroking the dog’s fluffy head.
“Your daddy and I love you both very much,” he tells him, as Gureum comes to sit by his feet, tail thumping. “But we’re going out for a bit. And we’ll probably get very drunk so please don’t judge us when we return.”
“Yoongi!” Jeongguk yells from in their bedroom, “Can you give the dogs a treat before we go?” Yoongi ignores him, cuddling the pups till Jeongguk sticks his head out. He’s got shaving foam all round his mouth. “Seriously?” he snipes and then makes kissy faces at the dogs. “Don’t worry babies, daddy’s gonna give you a bone.”
Yoongi chokes on his own spit.