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If someone had asked Namjoon in August if he would ever fuck a pumpkin, he’d say no. Of course not. (How does one even fuck a pumpkin, anyway?)
Yoongi, however, asks Namjoon in October… and well, the answer is very different now.
“I said, would you ever fuck a pumpkin? ” Yoongi asks, his words slurring together.
“What the fuck, Yoongi?” Namjoon laughs, taking another hit of the joint before passing it to Hoseok.
“You said it yourself,” Hoseok says, accepting the joint. He takes a long drag and sputters out a cough before passing it to Yoongi. “You haven’t gotten laid since orientation week in August.”
Groaning, Namjoon settles deeper into the bean bag and rubs his face. He feels rubbery and numb, skin fuzzy with a slight high settling over him. “Yeah, but I’m not sure I’m, like, horny enough to stick my dick in a pumpkin.”
“Bullshit!” Yoongi laughs, waving his hands frantically. “I fucking caught you going to town on your body pillow the other day. You’re trying to tell me you wouldn’t take a dip in a pumpkin?”
The blush burning its way across Namjoon’s face cuts right through his high, and now he’s mortified, wishing for a swift, painless death. Piano on his head. Plane falling out of the sky. Meteor. All of the above.
“I’m not sure I’ve seen a pumpkin that makes me think I should stick my dick in it,” Namjoon mutters, trying hard to focus on the cracks in the ceiling, not the curious way Yoongi stares at him.
“There’s that pumpkin in the lounge,” Hoseok mentions casually.
“Oh shit, you’re right! The first years had a pumpkin carving thing.” Yoongi scrambles to his feet and stamps out the joint in a soda can on his desk. “Let’s test the theory.”
“The Namjoon’s so horny he’ll stick his dick in anything theory? ” Hoseok laughs, yanking at Namjoon’s sleeve. “Come on, we need our test subject.”
“You guys are the fucking worst!” Namjoon yanks himself from Hoseok’s grip and begrudgingly follows them down the hall toward the lounge.
The common area is trashed—newspapers and pumpkin guts everywhere, knives and plastic cups strewn about, a couple pumpkins that someone abandoned. “This one,” Yoongi exclaims, holding up a large pumpkin with one eye and a large O-shaped mouth. “It’s literally made for someone’s dick.” He thrusts his finger in and out of the mouth and grins at Namjoon. “Looks like there’s plenty of space to fit you in there.”
“Fuck off,” Namjoon mumbles, feeling the blush return again.
“Wait, so like, we’re here to actually watch Joon stick his dick in a pumpkin? Is that what’s happening? Fuck, I am high.” Hoseok slumps onto one of the lumpy, stained common-area sofas and rubs his forehead.
“Yeah, what exactly was your plan, Yoongi?” Namjoon asks, raising an eyebrow. “You say I’m the horny one but you’re marching us in here to do what? Watch me hump a pumpkin?”
Hoseok snorts. “Humpkin.”
Shrieking, Yoongi sets the pumpkin down and rushes to Hoseok. “Humpkin! That’s so fucking stupid, god, I love you so much.” He crashes into him and kisses him through Hoseok’s laughter.
Namjoon rolls his eyes and turns away. Yoongi and Hoseok are always a bit of a mess, but get them high, and they are cuddly gremlins who scheme and kiss way too much in front of Namjoon. He glances at the pumpkin, pursing his lips. The mouth of the jack-o-lantern is nothing but a gaping hole. It is rather wide, plenty of room—
Hoseok sits up and waves his hand at the pumpkins. “You know, I bet you could microwave it, and it would get a bit softer, or at least be warm.” His hair is mussed and his face is flushed and glistening from Yoongi’s slobbery kisses.
Eyes widening, Namjoon sets down the pumpkin. “I’m not actually gonna do it, god.”
“Yeah, he’s not out of his gourd,” Yoongi teases, tickling Hoseok’s side.
Groaning, Hoseok squishes Yoongi’s cheeks and kisses him. “You are the fucking worst. I love you so much, you stupid boy.” They kiss and giggle, and finally, Namjoon lets out a long-suffering sigh.
“Can you two get a room?” Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Gladly,” Yoongi answers, standing up and extending a hand to Hoseok. “I’ll leave a sock on the door.”
“No one actually does that,” Hoseok laughs.
“Shut up,” Yoongi says, swatting at him. “Just, uh, knock loudly, Namjoon. And give us a while.”
Rolling his eyes, Namjoon waves them off. He turns his attention back to the pumpkin. So yeah, Yoongi caught him humping his body pillow. The dry spell between August and October has been agonizing. Namjoon watched as his friends paired off, found people to hook up with at parties, matched with people online. Namjoon, on the other hand, had been lost in his studies. Overwhelmed by papers and hopelessly horny, he channeled all his energy into getting perfect grades the first quarter. Any excess energy was spent dicking down the body pillow his mother insisted would help his sleep.
It did not help.
It only highlighted the tremendous absence in his bed. Yoongi had been careful with Hoseok, mindful that Namjoon didn’t deserve to suffer through their whispering and failed attempts at sneaking quiet handjobs in the bed across the room.
[“Cuffing season,” a freshman, Jungkook, had unhelpfully pointed out one day in the dining hall. “They call it cuffing season because everyone’s hooking up, you know, like hand-cuffs?” He held up his hands to mimic being cuffed and nodded toward Hoseok and Yoongi sharing a plate of fries.
“That’s stupid,” Taehyung, a sophomore replied. Somehow, Namjoon had ended up at their table to discuss notes from the intro literature course they were all taking. (Nevermind Namjoon had failed it the first time for missing too many classes.)
Jungkook shrugged and took a bite of his burger, unbothered by the splatter of ketchup on his cheek. “You’ll see. Everyone pairs off before Christmas break. Do all the couple stuff during the holidays then break up before Valentine’s Day.” He took a big gulp of his Coke and turned to Namjoon. “What about you? Cuffing anyone?”
The only cuffing he wanted to do — he stopped himself. Took a bite of his burger before he could answer. Namjoon felt so unnerved by Jungkook’s playful grin and the way it ignited something in his gut that all he could do was focus on chewing his food until it dissolved into nothing. ]
This stupid fucking pumpkin. With its weird eye-patch and crooked eye. With it’s really fucking unnecessary hole for a mouth. Like someone gave up or decided they were going to leave it looking like a glory hole. How horny does someone have to be to even consider sticking their dick in a pumpkin?
Yoongi started it. Stupid high, scheming, gremlin Yoongi and his keen insight into Namjoon’s horny angst.
So, Namjoon ponders the pumpkin. Feels the weight of it in his hands, peers inside to see it’s been scooped clean of pumpkin guts and seeds. He glances around, checks to be sure he’s alone. He presses a finger into the mouth-hole. Then adds a second. A third. It’s awfully wide. He could fit a fourth finger, he’s sure of it. So he tries and gives an experimental thrust of his hand. His dick could definitely fit in there.
Still clutching the pumpkin, he pokes his head out of the lounge entry to see if the halls are empty. It’s Saturday night. Of course the dorm is empty, he thinks. Then, he spots the microwave. He opens it and grimaces at the remnants of exploded macaroni and cheese, burnt popcorn, and something that smells very dead. The pumpkin won’t fit, he realizes, so he shuts the microwave and sighs.
He’s on the sober side of high, with just enough clarity to know that Sticking His Dick in a Pumpkin Is a Stupid Fucking Idea. But he’s also horny and desperate. Yoongi and Hoseok won’t be finished in the room any time in the near future, so…
“So I may as well fuck a pumpkin?” he asks aloud. Stupid Fucking Idea.
Namjoon sets the pumpkin on the counter near the microwave and crouches down, inspecting the carving. The circle for the mouth is wide and carved cleanly with smooth edges. It can’t be a coincidence that it’s carved like this, right?
Fate and his perpetual horniness have come together in this moment to gift him a gourd’s glory hole.
“Fuck,” Namjoon groans, standing up and grimacing at the crack in his knees. Whatever. Who’s it gonna hurt? It’ll be a quick experiment, he thinks. He reaches into his sweatpants and palms himself against his boxers. Tries not to think about the fact that he’s half-hard already. With one last glance around the lounge, he slips his hand into his boxers and pulls out his dick, pumping it a few times.
Lining himself up with the pumpkin, he takes a deep breath. His first thrust is shallow—just testing the feel of the cool gourd flesh against his warm skin. There’s no resistance, nothing soft and warm to press into it. Not entirely satisfying. He thrusts again. No friction, no warmth, not a single thing to alleviate the heat pooling in his gut. He starts to pull out, to adjust his pants, but he hears loud footsteps, then they stop at the entry.
“What are you doing?”
Any other time, this voice—Jungkook’s voice —would be welcomed, but now? Namjoon wants to shrivel up like dried pumpkin guts and get washed down a sink never to be seen again. Would rather be launched across a field with one of those pumpkin catapult machines like he’s seen on TV.
Namjoon has two options: turn around, dick in hand, pumpkin obviously defiled. Or he could just stand there, pretend like his dick isn’t deep in this pumpkin and pray that Jungkook won’t come any closer.
“Just, uh, just checking out the pumpkins!” Namjoon says as cheerfully as he can muster. Of course it had to be Jungkook walking in on him. Of course it had to be the very boy that Namjoon thought of when he rutted against his body pillow. The boy who blushes furiously in class whenever a poem hints at sex. The boy who still manages to flirt with Namjoon and knock him out of orbit with his big, toothy grin and care-free teasing.
“Looks like you’ve got your dick in my pumpkin.” Jungkook grins and steps closer. “I hope you bought it dinner first.”
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Namjoon says, unable to bring himself to look at Jungkook.
“It definitely looks like you are trying to get it on with my pumpkin.” Jungkook steps away and leans against the back of the sofa. Watching. Delighted by Namjoon’s flustered state.
Namjoon hunches over and pulls himself out of the cursed thing. “Look,” he sighs, adjusting the waistband of his sweatpants. “I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m high and horny.”
“Oh, is that all?” Jungkook tilts his head and purses his lips, nodding as he surveys Namjoon from head to toe. “Do you like me?”
“Well yeah, you’re cool or whatever.”
“No, I mean like like me.” He nods toward the pumpkin. “The way you like that pumpkin.” He grins wider, and his stupid eyes are amused and gorgeous. It’s too much.
The guy saw Namjoon balls deep in a pumpkin. What has he got to lose?
“Yeah, I guess you could say I like you,” Namjoon says, shrugging.
“Good. Because I like you too.” Jungkook licks his lips and pushes up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “So what are we gonna do about it?”
Blinking, Namjoon feels tiny sparks in his brain, his exhausted, depleted brain cells trying desperately to send signals to his mouth to say something coherent, but instead, they can only gather enough strength to make him say: “huh?”
Sighing dramatically, Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know I started talking to you in class because I thought you were smart, right? And hot. But mostly smart. But I swear, you are so dumb.” He shrugs. “I like you, have liked you. Been dropping hints but you never…” Exasperated, Jungkook cuts himself off, shaking his head.
“I am smart, so maybe your hints weren’t very good.” Namjoon’s not sure if he should be annoyed or flattered Jungkook has been trying to flirt with him all semester.
“All that talk about cuffing season? Drinking from your water bottle in class? Sharing fries with you? None of that rings a bell?”
Namjoon shrugs. “Just thought you were kinda rude. If you liked me, why didn’t you say so?” Now it’s Namjoon’s turn to grin. Jungkook is so clearly done with Namjoon and this conversation.
“God, you are so—”
“—so what?” Namjoon asks, grabbing Jungkook’s wrist before he can leave.
“Hot. It’s pissing me off.” The faint pink on Jungkook’s cheeks as he admits this is just so pretty, so amusing to Namjoon.
“Even though you saw me try to smash with your pumpkin?”
“Yes, against my better judgment, I still find you hot even after I saw your gourd inside my pumpkin.”
“Good.” Namjoon yanks Jungkook closer, glances at his face for any sign of resistance and leans in to kiss him. It’s awkward and fumbling, but it feels a bit like a tea kettle coming to boil—a release of steam and pressure that had been building for so long inside Namjoon.
The kiss itself isn’t all that surprising, but the way Jungkook leans into it, clutching at Namjoon’s sweatshirt catches him off guard. Like all that pressure mounting in Namjoon is equally matched by whatever’s roiling inside Jungkook, too. “Shit,” he mutters, gasping a bit as he pulls back from the kiss. “We should’ve done this a lot sooner.”
Namjoon laughs and feels a bit delirious—a swirling in his head far stronger than any high he’s experienced. “So now what?”
“You wanna show me what you were gonna do to that pumpkin?” Jungkook bites his lip and steps closer to Namjoon until he backs into the counter. “Were you gonna go slow? Or are you more of the jack-hammer type?”
Choking on air, Namjoon shakes his head, sputtering. “Uh, I guess I didn’t get that far?” He swallows the lump in his throat. “It’s been awhile for me, so I don’t know how long I would have,” he pauses for a second, “don’t know how long I will last.”
Jungkook hums and nods, letting his hand slip down the front of Namjoon’s chest. “And when you’re with other pumpkins, do you usually stuff the cornucopia or do you prefer someone else to stuff the cornucopia?”
One of Namjoon’s brain cells fires off an unhelpful, “huh?”
“Top or bottom, Namjoon? Damn.” Jungkook shakes his head, laughing incredulously.
“I hate puns,” he says sheepishly. He knows his face must be bright red. He can feel the hot shame washing all over his body. “Bottom,” he says quietly. “But it’s been awhile since I’ve done anything.”
“Ah, so the pumpkin mystery begins to unravel.”
“I guess you could say your carving skills really struck a gourd with me,” Namjoon mumbles.
Jungkook laughs loudly, clapping and swatting at Namjoon. “That’s my guy. Pulling through even though he hates puns.” Jungkook smooths his hands against Namjoon’s stomach and purses his lips. “So if we do anything, I don’t want you to do something you don’t like.”
Namjoon snorts. “Who said we’re doing anything?”
“Well, is that a squash in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Jungkook nods toward the bulge in Namjoon’s pants.
“So you’re saying you wanna pumpkin spice things up with me?”
Jungkook smirks, letting his hand slip between Namjoon’s legs, not applying pressure, but just enough of a touch to make Namjoon exhale sharply. “Yeah, wanna carve out some space for you in my bed.” He leans in, nosing along Namjoon’s neck. “Reach into you and scoop you out.”
It’s really fucking stupid, Namjoon realizes, how turned on he is by this horny pumpkin banter, but he doesn’t care. Not when Jungkook is palming his crotch, pressing the lightest, warmest kisses into the crook of his neck. “ Oh my gourd , you’re so fucking hot,” Namjoon sighs, letting his hips follow after Jungkook’s touch.
“You butternut squash in your pants before we get to the good stuff,” Jungkook teases, pressing his palm hard against Namjoon’s crotch.
“Okay, for real though, are we gonna do this in the lounge or…?” Namjoon glances down at Jungkook’s hand then back at him.
“You don’t want to give our hallmates pumpkin to talk about ?” Jungkook pulls his hand away and adjusts his own sweatpants.
“This is really hot and weird,” Namjoon laughs, tucking his boner out of sight and tugging down his hoodie.
“Go big or gourd home,” Jungkook answers with a shrug. “My room?”
Namjoon nods. “Yeah.”
Jungkook smiles—and it’s dazzling and brilliant, a little endeared, and nothing like the heated look he had only moments before. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. We could just talk. Hang out. Whatever.”
Nodding at Jungkook’s crotch—and the clear outline of his own hard dick—Namjoon scoffs. “You don’t look like you wanna talk.”
“You’re right.” Jungkook grabs Namjoon’s hand and tugs on him. “I don’t wanna talk.” He quirks an eyebrow and nods at the counter. “Grab the pumpkin. Might come in handy later.”