Chapter Text
The pantry is a sad, sad void. No sign of the hot honey crisps he’d stashed there with his name written right on the bag in bold, slightly aggressive letters.
Has Jungkook himself stolen snacks from his Hyungs before? Of course, he’s the maknae of the house, and most of the others have like…adult jobs. Not the minimum wage matcha stand that Jungkook puts 25 hours a week into because he can’t imagine balancing any more than that with his class load.
But that isn’t a two way street. No one steals from him, especially considering he notoriously hates sharing food. If anyone were to cross that line, though, Jungkook has a strong inkling as to who it might be.
The one that acts more like the baby of the house than Jungkook does, the one that could get away with murder by batting his eyelashes, the one with the worst gas in the history of the universe, and Jungkook’s best friend since the second grade.
“Jimin-yo!” Jungkook hollers as he bounds up the stairs with thundering steps. Stomping down the hall, he comes to a halt outside of Jimin’s door with his fist raised.
“Jimi-“ he stops, goes stock still when a noise comes from inside the room.
“Nngh, ah…”
It’s faint, but it sounds…it sounds like…
‘Is Jimin getting off?’ Jungkook thinks.
Oh this is too good. The perfect revenge.
With a devious smirk, Jungkook creeps across the hall to his own room and rummages in a desk drawer that hasn’t been cleaned out in months. If he remembers correctly…
“Yes,” Jungkook snickers, pulling a confetti popper out from the depths of the clutter. It was leftover from the Lunar New Year party they threw, and Jungkook hid it away as a keepsake. It’s too hilarious, he has to use it.
Ready to yank the string, Jungkook bounds back across the hall and shouts, “JIMIN-SSIII!”
He bursts into the room and explodes the little confetti bomb, but when his eyes focus on the sight before him, Jungkook’s voice cracks in a way it hasn’t managed to do since he was 13.
The color drains from his face as little red and gold bits of paper flit through the air right onto Jimin’s bed, where Jungkook finds one more person than he was anticipating.
In the split second before all hell breaks loose, Jungkook takes in the scene.
Jimin is completely naked, on his back with his knees pulled to his chest, his skin glistening and flushed, his eyelids heavy, lips parted in soft sighs and bitten red.
And there’s a head between his thighs. A man’s head. A man that Jungkook recognizes from his intermediate photography class. And his tongue is actively plunging inside Jimin’s asshole.
“Jungkook?!” Jimin screeches, snatching the comforter from where it's strewn halfway onto the floor and bringing it over their bodies as ‘photography boy’ scrambles to the opposite corner of the bed and plasters himself against the far wall.
“Um- I…” Jungkook sputters like a guppy flopping about on a pier.
“Get out!” Jimin roars, climbing off the mattress and wrapping the blanket around himself as he shoves Jungkook harshly out into the hallway and slams the door.
The lock clicking echoes in Jungkook’s head for a while as he just stands there and tries to process.
He shuffles to his room in a daze and shuts himself inside, flopping onto his back on the bed and staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Jimin’s little moans play on a loop in his mind. So light and lilting and desperate with a little whine at the end. Pretty.
His cock twitches, and he simply can’t have that. Rolling onto his stomach, Jungkook has a stern internal conversation with himself.
Jimin has always had a higher pitched voice, so it’s no surprise that his moans would sound good, it’s hot because he sounds like a girl right? Even the slightly raspy bits, when it sounded like he was getting close…
Another twitch.
“Fuck, stop it,” Jungkook mutters. Jimin is his best friend, and a guy.
It doesn’t matter if he sounded good, or if the slope of his legs was pleasing, or if his skin looked smooth, or if his blissful expression was sort of-
‘No, no, no’ Jungkook cuts that short before he thinks of something he can’t take back.
He hasn’t gotten laid in two weeks while his girlfriend is out of town, that’s all. He’s just a little pent up.
…
Dinners in the house aren’t usually formal, they don’t sit at the table and it’s rare to find all seven of them eating at the same time with everyone’s hectic schedules. Tonight is one of those antisocial nights where Yoongi is locked away eating over his recording equipment and mixing songs, Jin is shooting some late night commercial, Namjoon is in the homestretch of a six hundred page novel, and the rest of them put something on the TV to either zone out or catch up on some homework.
Jungkook jumps every time a door opens or a floorboard creaks upstairs, fearing the moment he sees Jimin again after what happened earlier. He’s sitting on the sofa with his laptop open on an impressionist research paper due at midnight, hopelessly stumped on the last few paragraphs because every time he tries to focus, flashes of Jimin’s body and voice penetrate his mind.
Hoseok is trying to inspire him with an interpretive dance routine he’s dreading choreographing, and it does manage to distract him from other thoughts, but does very little to assist with his paper.
He barely notices at first when Jimin creeps down the stairs, seemingly trying to sneak into the kitchen without detection, but Taehyung doesn’t get the memo.
“Mini, don’t take the last of the noodles, I haven’t had any yet!” He shouts, leaping up from his armchair.
Jungkook’s stomach drops like a broken elevator crashing to the ground level. He glances to the doorway to the kitchen and immediately meets Jimin’s eyes there, for one split second before he avoids Jungkook’s gaze and disappears around the corner.
They’re going to have to talk about it. Jungkook should apologize for bursting in anyway, that’s all. It’ll be fine afterwards.
Once Taehyung gets his serving and heads back to the living room, Jungkook takes his cue. Sheepish and only slightly cowering, he approaches the kitchen island. Jimin has his back turned, standing with both doors of the fridge open and the light within illuminating his frame. He’s wearing his tried and true loose pajama shorts and a muscle tee, and Jungkook scans over the shadows cast along his biceps, the softness of his unstyled, silky black hair.
There’s a strange tightening in his chest, and he’s finding it harder to speak than he thought it would be.
“Do you need something,” Jimin asks in near deadpan without so much as turning his head.
“Y-yeah, I just wanted to…” Jungkook starts, clearing his throat halfway through his sentence because he sounds strangely hoarse, “I’m sorry for busting in like that, I was just playing a stupid prank.”
Jimin shuts the fridge and slowly turns to face him, his expression neutral, unreadable.
“I probably should have locked the door, but I thought we had a policy about knocking.”
“Yeah you’re so right, I just thought it’d be…funny.”
It sounds fucking stupid for Jungkook to say that out loud.
“You thought it would be funny to interrupt my sexual encounter…” Jimin’s head is tilted, arms crossed across his chest.
“To be fair, I thought you were solo.”
“Oh so you thought it would be funny to throw confetti on me while I masturbated.”
Jungkook could walk into traffic and it would be less painful than this.
“When you put it like that…” he mumbles.
Jimin sighs lightly, then looks down at his feet. His teeth toy with his bottom lip, and Jungkook gets lost watching how plump it looks when he releases it, how it shines just a little with chapstick or saliva, he doesn’t know.
“Um…about what you saw though,” Jimin starts, his demeanor a little shrunken now, his energy unsettled, “I’m sure you were surprised.”
“Yeah, I mean you don’t have to explain or-”
“No I want to,” he interrupts, “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out that I’m gay.”
Every muscle in Jungkook’s body tenses. He figured that was the case, but hearing it makes it so real.
“You know it doesn’t change anything between us right?” He says, because he feels like that’s what he’s supposed to say. It's a bold faced lie.
At least within Jungkook, everything feels different. It’s uncomfortable, why is it so uncomfortable? Is he homophobic or something? He didn’t think he was.
It seems to be the right thing to say though, because Jimin’s shoulders release some tension and a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.
“Okay. Okay, good. It’s a relief for you to know now, maybe we can just forget about how you found out,” he laughs.
“Is that guy your boyfriend?”
Jungkook kind of blurts it out loudly, but the humor doesn’t leave Jimin’s face. In fact, he chuckles even more and shakes his head.
“God no, we were just hooking up.”
Why is that kind of relieving? But also…not?
“Ah, that’s- uh good, I would have warned you. He makes the worst jokes during class. Like recycled reddit shit that he passes off as original.”
Jimin laughs hard enough now to snort, and Jungkook loves to make him snort.
“Trust me, it was just a one time thing. My standard for actual boyfriends is way higher than that.”
“Good, good,” Jungkook nods, but he’s actively fighting against the voices in his head that have about a thousand more questions. Such as: has Jimin had a boyfriend before that he hasn’t known about? What does he look for in a boyfriend? What’s his type? Was that guy any good?
Obviously Jungkook would have to thoroughly vet anyone that wanted to date his best friend, not many guys would be good enough.
“So, are we okay? You aren’t scarred forever or anything?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook doesn’t really know how to answer that.
Scarred? No, that’s not the word. He doesn’t really know what the appropriate descriptor would be.
“Of course we’re okay, yeah,” Jungkook says, clapping Jimin on the shoulder.
“I’m glad. It was killing me to hide it from you…I think that’s why I did. I was too scared of losing you if you weren’t- you know…okay with it.”
Jungkook’s heart sinks at the mere thought of that. “It would take a lot more than that to get rid of me, hyung.”
He tries to keep it light, but the emotion in his voice betrays him. Jimin slings his arms around Jungkook’s neck without warning, flattening against his chest and squeezing tightly. It’s brief, he’s gone the next second, but the scent of his oat milk and honey shampoo lingers and Jungkook loves it. He even used it on his own hair a couple of times, but somehow it didn’t smell the same as it does on Jimin, probably just body chemistry or pheromones or something.
“Alright, that’s enough of the heavy talk. Wanna split the rest of the ramyeon?” Jimin suggests.
“Please, I’m starving.”
…
After their talk, Jungkook felt immense relief.
So why does he feel sick to his stomach all over again when he lays in bed that night?
He keeps replaying it all, can’t reconcile his best friend of fifteen years with the slender, blushing sexual being that he witnessed. Jimin once threw up all over Jungkook at a childhood sleepover in the middle of the night, then again when he turned twenty and got way too drunk. Jungkook has seen him at his worst and his best, but he’s never seen him…like that.
It makes sense, he’s only ever had two girlfriends and they were terrible. Well, Jungkook thought so anyway. Both relationships were short lived and Jimin was incredibly tight lipped on the details. Especially the intimate ones.
Honestly, how has he not seen it sooner? Maybe he didn’t want to?
He has a feeling most people don’t have this much difficulty accepting the sexuality of their friends, so what the fuck is his problem?
His phone buzzes in the pocket of his shorts and he sighs as he pulls it out to look at the screen. Fuck.
“Min-jung, hi,” he greets.
‘I’ve texted you like five times, are you okay?’
“Shit, yeah. Sorry, I haven’t looked at my phone. Been working on a paper.”
‘Do you want some company? I finished my shift at the restaurant a little early.’
He knows what that means by the tone of her voice, that suggestive flirtation. His first instinct is to turn her down, but another thought pops into his head.
Maybe she could distract him from this Jimin stuff, get it off his mind.
“Yeah, you wanna come over?”
‘Mm, I do. I’ll be there in thirty after a quick shower.’
Jungkook says a quick bye and hangs up, figures he should freshen up too. Yeah, this is good.
He and Min-Jung have been together three months now, it’s actually his longest relationship so far. Jungkook has always liked pursuing girls, wooing them and all that. But then his interest fades so quickly he wonders why he thought they were compatible in the first place.
Min-Jung is better, though. She’s easy going, hasn’t put pressure on things, and she has a good sense of humor.
Shower caddy in hand and headphones on, Jungkook strides into the bathroom with little awareness of his surroundings, a usual state of being for him.
He smells the steam before he sees it. Oat milk and honey.
When he raises his eyes, Jimin is frozen in place halfway out of the shower. A white towel is wrapped low on his hips, damp hair falling in his eyes in thick clumps, rivulets of water trailing down his bare torso.
Seeing him like this takes Jungkook right back to that moment. Naked, glistening, flushed.
“Fuck- sorry,” he mutters, steps back and slams the door shut.
Jimin swings it back open with his head cutely tilted in confusion. “Jungkoo-ah? Don’t you need the shower?”
“Y-yeah, thanks. Just wanted to let you finish,” he says, eyes fixed on the hallway’s wood flooring.
“I’m done, all yours,” Jimin says cheerfully, stepping past Jungkook and heading back to his room.
If Jungkook is half hard when he turns the water on, he chalks it up to anticipation.
…
Min-Jung is wearing leggings and one of Jungkook’s hoodies when Hoseok lets her in downstairs, her hair up in a claw clip with a few silky strands pulled out. It’s pitch black and straight, soft too, but she always perfumes it with something too pungent and floral for his taste. He doesn’t tell her though, doesn’t feel like he should control what she wears.
She hugs him and places a kiss on his cheek when she comes into Jungkook’s room. Then they both plop down on the bed while he puts on a drama they’ve been watching together.
Before long, Min-Jung begins to migrate closer and closer until she slings a leg over Jungkook’s, pressing into his side. He feels lips on his neck, and lets his eyes flutter shut.
Foreplay is a short lived game in their relationship.
Five minutes later, Jungkook’s pants are bunched around his knees and Min-Jung is spreading her legs to make room for him. He sinks into her with a groan, looks down at her blissful expression but he can’t keep his eyes open for long.
His mind’s eye has the dangerous flash of an image waiting for him.
An image of pale skin, toned shoulders and flexed biceps. Of pink, full lips and wicked, slanted eyes. The sound of a breathy moan that starts in a bit of a growl before it grows high and weak, desperate.
None of it belongs to her.
Jungkook is pumping wildly before he even realizes, chasing a forbidden high to its conclusion with gritted teeth and sweat at his brow.
Before he can stop it, his imagination runs with a fictional scene in which Jimin walks in the room right this second. When Jungkook is the one taking pleasure while Jimin just stands there watching helplessly.
Would he gasp and shut the door? Would he be aroused by the sight of Jungkook on display?
Fuck, would he touch himself?
Would his hand travel without even thinking, cupping himself and hiding just out of sight? Biting his bottom lip to keep from making a sound-
“Shit,” Jungkook grunts, doesn’t even have another moment to follow that thought through before he’s coming, vision hazing and muscles tensing.
Min-Jung moans loudly, her voice almost shrill as Jungkook fills up the condom inside her. He isn’t a fool, he knows she’s putting a show on for him.
But he’s no slouch either. He pulls out, tosses the condom into the bin next to his desk, and scales down her body to lap at her folds. It’s quick and methodical, and she breaks underneath him in minutes.
Her chest is heaving as she collapses fully onto the mattress with a wide grin across her lips. Jungkook slaps the side of her thigh and rolls off the bed.
“Come on, let’s rinse off,” he says.
“What, you don’t want to cuddle with me when I’m sweaty and gross?” She snickers, snatching Jungkook’s hoodie to throw over her bare form.
Just as Jungkook passes the threshold of his room, she leaps onto his back and he yelps, catching her legs to secure her while she giggles madly.
Jimin’s door opens then, and Jungkook freezes in place, catches his eyes the moment he comes into view.
He looks between Jungkook and Min-Jung, and there’s the briefest flash of something. But it’s gone too soon and a polite smile takes its place.
“Min-Jung, I thought I heard you out here.”
“Sorry, did we wake you?” She winces, unable to suppress her mischievous grin.
“Not at all, I was just heading out actually.”
Jungkook’s brow furrows and he looks Jimin up and down.
He’s wearing leather pants and Chelsea boots. His t-shirt is casual, but Jungkook knows him way better than that. Those are the pants that make his legs look like sculpted marble, and he doesn’t just wear them anywhere.
“This late?” He asks, sounding so much like the father of a teenage girl that he cringes at himself.
Jimin chuckles, the sound deep and rich and Jungkook feels tingles ripple across his skin.
“Yeah, I’m meeting up with someone,” he says.
Jungkook has to suck his lips in between his teeth to refrain from asking who he’s meeting and where he’s meeting them. These are men after all. Women share locations with their friends when they meet men late at night, Jimin should be no different.
“Be careful, yeah? Call me if you need me.”
It’s the best thing he can settle on saying, and Jimin still looks at him with enough humor for Jungkook to find it incredibly infuriating.
He’s being genuine here.
“Sure thing, kookie,” Jimin giggles, waving them both off and skipping down the stairs.
“What was that about, dork?” Min-Jung cackles as Jungkook lets her slide off his back.
“You can’t trust people these days, that’s all.”
“Ooh, serious,” she continues to tease, stripping the hoodie off and stepping into the shower.
“Don’t you worry when your friends are hooking up?”
She purses her lips, thinks for a moment. “I like to know where they’re meeting, for sure. Otherwise, we’re usually asking how good he was in bed and if he looks like his photos. Lots of raunchy gifs, bald spot jokes, things like that.”
Jungkook just hums. He feels so irritated and he can’t even place the root of it.
Even when Min-Jung gives herself a soap beard, he doesn’t crack a smile.
She crashes ten minutes into the next episode of the drama after their shower, leaving Jungkook to sit there and stew.
He’s not upset that Jimin is going out or anything, but does want to know that he’s alright. Though he can’t deny that he wants to know who Jimin is with right now, wants to know exactly how much he might be enjoying himself. Jungkook didn’t think he was a particularly jealous person, but he certainly feels it right now.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’s felt this way with Jimin, now that he thinks about it. When he joined the dance program and became close with Hoseok, Jungkook felt threatened until he developed his own relationship with Hobi Hyung. Namjoon and Taehyung and Yoongi are all so fond of him too that Jungkook has often felt himself getting territorial over their friendship.
He’s the one that moved to Seoul with Jimin, that grew up with him through every cold, every school project, every difficult test and late night spent on the roof of one of their houses.
Before, he’s never had to question where those feelings came from.
But now…
He can’t ignore what happened, that he came instantly from the thought of Jimin’s presence, his arousal.
Jimin has always been sort of pretty. It’s a running joke that straight guys think so, that it wouldn’t be as much of a stretch to “be gay” for Jimin as opposed to someone a bit manlier. Like if you had to fuck a guy, Jimin would be a good candidate.
Isn’t this different though?
Even now, replaying the fantasy of Jimin stroking himself, thinking back to seeing his hard cock laying against his stomach while being eaten out, Jungkook feels desire pang in his gut. The muscle tone of Jimin’s body is etched in his mind, because he just looked so good.
Yes, there’s something almost effeminate to his looks, a softness and a grace, but Jungkook has also seen him at kendo competitions, has stood behind Jimin in fights with neighborhood bullies. He’s always been strong, Jungkook has never thought of him as girly. Especially not after sharing a disgusting teenage boy phase with him.
Jimin had a crusty sock under the mattress just like anyone else.
This isn’t just because he knows Jimin is gay now, he’s not paranoid about being crushed on by a gay guy or anything-
Wait. Does Jimin even think he’s attractive?
Does he care?
“God fucking dammit,” he grunts under his breath. He has to escape this clusterfuck somehow.
He should just sleep too.
…
“Kookie,” Jimin’s voice purrs in his ear. Jungkook shivers, stirs and rolls over to blink through the twilight seeping in through his curtains.
“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t wait,” he continues, pushing Jungkook gently to lay fully on his back. He swings a leg over to straddle Jungkook, settling warm and heavy across his hips. The pressure makes Jungkook groan, grind up to seek more of the feeling.
Jimin gives a low, sultry laugh that strikes him through to his bones, coats him like honey.
“Eager in bed too, why am I surprised?” He teases, folding over to flatten against Jungkook’s chest, the tips of their noses brushing just slightly.
“Kiss me,” Jungkook breathes out, angling his head and surging forward, but Jimin backs away before their lips can meet.
“With her laying right here?”
Jungkook gasps and looks to the right, where Min-Jung still lies there, sleeping soundly.
“I won’t kiss you baby, but I will make you come,” Jimin says then.
He rolls his hips against Jungkook’s clothed cock, and the younger chokes out a broken moan. His hands fly to Jimin’s waist, feeling every inch of skin under his t-shirt in pure reverie.
So smooth. He looks up to see Jimin’s crooked smirk, his hooded eyes, like he knows how desperate Jungkook is, that he’s got him wrapped around his dainty little fingers.
“God, please Jimin,” Jungkook murmurs, grinding up against him over and over without a shred of rationality.
“Don’t you want to taste me first? Show me you’re better than he was?”
Jimin leans back, brings the hem of his shirt up and bites down on it to expose his toned abdomen. His hand reaches for the button of those sinfully tight pants and-
“Fuck,” Jungkook says with a gasp, sitting up in bed and frantically taking in his surroundings.
That felt so real, too real.
Looking down at his lap, he curses again under his breath. He’s painfully hard, leaking into his boxers and everything.
Fuck, he needs some relief.
Min-Jung is still fast asleep. He can’t just-
“With her laying right there?”
Jesus.
Jimin sounded like pure sin in his dream, the words echoing in his mind on a tantalizing loop. He’s still in a half asleep daze, his inhibitions low. Not low enough to rub it out with his girlfriend right next to him though.
Carefully, Jungkook lifts the covers and slips out of bed, tiptoeing to the door and closing it softly behind him. His feet carry him to Jimin’s empty room, but he looks both ways to be sure no one else sees him going in.
The coast is clear, so he goes inside. There’s a small moon lamp on the bedside table that’s still on, giving off warm, dim light. It’s cozy, kind of perfect. Jungkook sits on Jimin’s bed, sinking into the plush white comforter that smells so faintly of lavender room spray.
There are textbooks stacked on nearly every surface, but otherwise the decor is so elevated for a college age male. He has simplistic prints of his favorite manga covers framed on the walls, abstract floral photography, and tasteful throw pillows accenting his bed and tufted arm chair.
Jungkook’s eyes trail back to the nightstand, and a thought crosses his mind.
He can’t though, right? He shouldn’t.
He can’t look through Jimin’s stuff…
Yet he’s opening the drawer a millisecond later, damn him. At first there’s just some chapstick, spare phone chargers, a notebook, a-
Oh.
There, at the back of the drawer is a black velvet drawstring bag. That can only mean one thing, classic sex toy bag material.
He takes it out, looks inside, and begins sweating immediately.
There’s a bottle of lube, a bullet vibrator, a cock ring. He dumps the bag out on the bed to see the full contents, and his stomach drops. Two sizes of butt plugs, both with different color gems on the ends. The larger of the two has a heart shaped pink gem, Jungkook can all-too vividly imagine the sight of it nestled between Jimin’s ass cheeks.
Shit.
He runs his fingers over the silicone, turns the plug over in his hand. This has been inside of his best friend. The same best friend whose lilting voice haunts him.
Jungkook is deliriously hard, with his other hand he palms himself through his sweats. Shame permeates his lust, but it’s not enough to stop his next impulse.
Jimin’s laundry hamper sits there in front of the closet door. It’s empty save for one article hanging over the side, a pair of tiny black boxer briefs.
He’s never thought of men’s underwear as stimulating, but…
It’s like everything in this room adds to his arousal.
Standing and stepping closer to the hamper, Jungkook has a distant thought, one last barrier to cross in his own mind. There’s no coming back from this, no way to outlive it within himself if he does what he’s itching to do.
It’s hard to maintain your integrity when you’re alone and horny at three in the morning.
He takes the briefs in hand and brings them to his face, taking a long, slow inhale with his nose pressed against the fabric.
Their detergent is the primary note, but then…there’s this musk. It’s undeniable, unmistakable, it’s Jimin.
Fuck.
It’s addictive.
It’s so dirty. Jungkook’s core is on fire, his swollen cock still leaking pathetically, and he can’t hold back for one more second.
He sits back on Jimin’s bed, yanks his sweats and underwear down and breathes in more of that scent as he curls his hand around his shaft. He even uses some of Jimin’s lube to make the slide easy, consumed with nothing but Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.
Memories of his dream weave with the sight of Jimin on this very bed, head thrown back in pleasure. It all morphs until Jungkook is the one between those thighs, lapping at his hole, groaning from the sheer intoxication of it all.
“Fuck- Jimin,” he grunts, already approaching a more intense orgasm than any other he’s experienced lately. He realizes he needs to come somewhere, doesn’t see any tissues though.
All he has is Jimin’s underwear.
Fuck, yeah that’ll do it.
Jungkook buries his cock in the fabric and that’s all it takes. He watches as thick ropes coat Jimin’s underwear, soak in as he grinds his hips and practically whimpers from the intensity of his pleasure.
“Ah…shit,” he huffs, collapsing back on the mattress as he catches his breath.
But now that his lust has dissipated, the shame is all that’s left.
He frankly can’t believe what he’s done.
Yet, he tries to rationalize it anyway.
It was all fresh in his mind, walking in on Jimin, having that dream. What’s that saying, correlation not causation? Yeah, it’s just…relevance, nothing else. Coincidence.
He can’t put these back in the hamper, though. Jungkook brings them back to his room and tosses them in with his own dirty clothes, after putting Jimin’s sex toys back in the drawer the way he found them, of course.
It feels wrong, climbing back into bed with Min-Jung like nothing happened. She barely stirs, and Jungkook doesn’t curl an arm around her or shift closer. He lays flat on his back, and doesn’t get another wink of sleep.
…
“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin’s voice startles him where he sits at his desk. He spins around quickly in his office chair, unprepared for the sight of Jimin in the flesh after all that happened in his own sick mind last night.
He looks freshly showered, no shirt and sweats hanging low across his hips. There’s a slight flush across his nose and cheeks, below his collar bones, likely because he uses near boiling water. Jungkook can always tell from the volume of steam that pours out with him when he leaves the bathroom.
“Uh, yes?” He answers, voice weirdly raspy.
“Did you go in my room last night?”
Shit, he was careful, did he leave something? A stain?
Should he run right now and change his name and move to another country?
“Y-yeah, I needed to borrow a charger. I put it back though,” he says, hopes it's a good enough lie.
“Oh, okay. I usually leave the door closed and it was open when I came back, that’s all,” Jimin says, cheerful and seemingly ignorant to any foul play.
“My bad, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Oh, did you still want to try that new dumpling place tonight? I think Hobi Hyung wanted to tag along.”
“Totally, yeah, I’m just working on a paper today so I can go whenever,” Jungkook says, praying that Jimin doesn’t see how profusely he’s sweating over what should be a perfectly plain conversation.
“Great! I’ll come get you around six,” Jimin chirps, but before he goes, his fingers snake against Jungkook’s scalp to rustle his hair.
The effect is frankly ridiculous. Jungkook feels a chill ripple throughout his entire body, crawling down his spine. He gasps and his eyes fall shut, but luckily for him, Jimin did it in passing, as a sort of goodbye before he heads out.
So Jungkook is left reeling from the sensation, spiralling more like. This feeling should have gone away, he got it out of his system last night right?
How can someone he’s known nearly his entire life touch him one day and it feels normal, warm and comforting like any other day. But the next it feels like fire leaving Jimin’s fingertips and seeping into his every pore, shooting through every nerve.
All this, just because he knows that Jimin is gay?
Jungkook runs his palms over his face and breathes deeply. Clearly he’s having some sort of internal crisis over this, and he has to figure out how to make it stop. Jimin will notice sooner or later, he’s always read Jungkook like a book, their whole lives.
…
Hoseok bails on dinner, gets caught up with a late night rehearsal for his exhibition.
Everyone else is busy too, and so it’s just Jimin and Jungkook at the table.
The restaurant is intimate, cushions on the floor at low tables, red lanterns and bamboo. It's almost a romantic atmosphere. Jungkook’s throat feels like it’s closing.
He kept his outfit casual, cargos and a leather jacket, practically his uniform. Jimin is classy as always, slacks and a loose gray sweater that threatens to fall off one shoulder. It has intentional holes in the material as well and forms to his torso like it was made for him, effortlessly chic. His hair is getting so long too, and he’s been styling it in this messy, wavy way that suits him so well.
Jungkook’s stupid brain can’t stop realizing that there are no distinguishable differences between this outing and a date. He wonders if people at neighboring tables are thinking it too, that they’re together.
“Do you want to share a few things? I know you’d really like this braised beef,” Jimin suggests, and Jungkook winces.
Yeah, anyone would think this is a date. That Jimin is Jungkook’s pretty boyfriend. Would Jimin be out of his league if he were gay?
The waiter stops at their table then and asks for their drink order.
“He’ll have a highball, I’ll try the yuzu martini. Is it really sweet, though?”
God, Jimin even orders for him like a dutiful mate. He knows Jungkook has some social anxiety and has been doing that since they were teenagers getting Teokkboki by the river. And, in turn, Jungkook knew Jimin would ask if the drink is sweet, too. He doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but pushes himself to try new things. Jungkook also knows that after he tries the new thing, he’ll give up and get red cap soju afterward.
Sure enough, he takes a sip of the yuzu drink and wrinkles his nose.
“Too sweet?” Jungkook laughs.
“Of course. Who puts sugar on the rim of a martini anyway?” he scoffs, and Jungkook smiles so fondly.
They talk, and he almost forgets the turmoil that’s been pelting his mind lately. Their dynamic is so natural, weaved into the fabric of Jungkook’s being. If there’s ever a reason not to address these new…urges…it would be that. Jimin is the single most important person in his life, and no random sexuality crisis, if that’s what this is, would be worth risking their friendship.
“Min-Jung left early this morning,” Jimin says, and Jungkook’s stomach does a turn. He doesn’t know why, but it’s always been unsettling to talk to Jimin about her.
“Yeah, I- uh, I asked her to. Wanted to focus on my assignments today.”
“I bumped into her, she was leaving as I was just getting in. She didn’t seem too happy,” Jimin giggles.
“She’s not a morning person…so you uh, slept somewhere else last night?”
Jungkook wishes he could sound more casual, but the question comes out all fatherly again.
“Mm,” Jimin confirms, munching on a pod of spicy edamame, “I wasn’t expecting it, I usually don’t spend the night with people I’m not dating, but his mattress was insanely comfy and my legs were jelly.”
Jungkook didn’t know it was possible for him to lose his appetite, but he thinks it just happened.
“Ah,” is all he can manage, and Jimin’s eyes go round.
“I’m sorry, is that too TMI? If you’re not comfortable hearing that stuff-”
“No, no, I mean…we all talk about girls, it wouldn’t be fair for you to censor yourself.”
“Then why do you look green?” Jimin laughs.
“No reason,” he mumbles, pokes at his side of kimchi with a chopstick.
“You know if you have questions, or want to set boundaries or anything, you can.” Jimin says, so sincere it makes Jungkook’s heart squeeze tighter in his chest.
Call him the world’s chief idiot, but he can’t help what comes out his mouth next.
“I was curious about something.”
Jimin seems happy about that, gives him an eager smile and nods for him to continue.
“If your legs were like that…did you bottom?”
Jimin just about chokes on the next sip of his drink, claps a hand over his mouth to keep from snorting.
“Uhm, yeah I…prefer it. I like switching it up too, but…stop me if this is too much,” he warns, and Jungkook doesn’t have the restraint to take him up on that offer. “I go for guys that are a little bigger than me, that can…throw me around a little one minute, but would get on their knees for me the next.”
Kill him. Kill him immediately. May an asteroid come through the ceiling and smite him right this second.
Fuck. That’s exactly how he’d pictured Jimin in his dream.
His voice comes out a lot raspier than it should. “Ah, yep, got it. Just wondering.”
“It’s honestly so nice to be able to talk to you about this kind of thing. After sitting through countless conversations about women as some kind of imposter. Like I didn’t quite fit. I’ve always thought women are beautiful, but I knew it was a different type of admiration. You know?”
Weirdly, yeah. He does know. Jungkook has never been one to talk explicitly about women, at least not as much as other guys. That’s part of why he and Jimin gravitated to one another so much early on. He didn’t even care about dating until college either, when he started getting his piercings and tattoos and filling out a bit more. Women wanted him then, and he likes feeling wanted.
He just doesn’t like the sleazy macho objectification stuff.
“That makes sense. Sorry if we ever made you feel awkward.”
“Don’t be, if anything it helped me figure myself out. Once I was past the hormonal teenage boy phase where I’d get hard just because the wind picked up,” he snickers, and Jungkook cracks a smile at that.
“Oh yeah, I remember that day you faked spilling ice cream on your swim trunks when you popped a boner so you had an excuse to run to the showers.”
Jimin gasps, “Is that how you want to play? Don’t forget, I’m the one that made an excuse to your mom after you destroyed your first computer with porn viruses.”
“Oh god, I wish I could erase that from my memory.”
“You? I will never forget that search history, you animal.”
Jungkook hides his face in his hands, “Okay, okay, you win.”
“Don’t I always?” Jimin says in this low, sultry sort of whisper that has Jungkook’s core tightening.
He looks up and Jimin is taking a bite of a pork belly bao bun. There’s sauce dripping down his fingers, and once he’s done chewing, his tongue darts out to lap it from his skin. It’s really too indecent for a public place.
His pink lips are wet, slick and juicy, and the way his tongue slowly drags up his pinky is criminal. Jungkook realizes he’s always loved watching Jimin enjoy food. Especially when he’s the one who cooked it for him, but…is it a sexual thing? He thought it was just pride or something, but there’s nothing innocent about the way Jungkook’s cock twitches when Jimin hums at the taste, his eyes fluttering shut.
“This is so good,” he almost whines.
Fuck.
What’s happening to him?
Jungkook locks himself in his room when they get home, refusing the offer to curl up and watch some One Piece. Usually he’d jump on it, but Jungkook can’t risk an erection just because Jimin puts his legs in his lap like he has so many times before.
He doesn’t really know how to be around Jimin right now, and that’s a confusing, disheartening thing.
…
The next morning, Jimin has an early class. Jungkook takes the opportunity to sneak the pair of black underwear back into his room, washed clean of his transgressions.
He slips inside and closes the door behind him, goes to the dresser and tucks them in with the rest of Jimin’s briefs as if they’d been there all along. He really almost makes it out without doing something stupid, really he does.
But there, on the floor by his bed, lies another pair. Light gray this time. The same color Jungkook saw a flash of when Jimin raised his arms last night and exposed the waistband.
His body betrays him, heat licking at his spine, and before he knows it, Jungkook is bending down to retrieve them. He lifts them to his face, but before he can inhale, a distant sound makes his blood run cold.
Jimin has this noise he makes, this obnoxious, crow-like squawking, and he sometimes uses it as a greeting when he arrives back home. He can hear Hoseok laughing at it, and Jungkook knows Jimin will be bounding upstairs any second.
Briefs still in hand, he darts across the hall back to his own room, chest thumping as he listens against his bedroom door. Sure enough, Jimin and Hoseok talk as they walk down the hall and come to a stop in front of Jimin’s room.
They go their separate ways, and Jungkook lets himself breathe. He sits back at his desk, looks down at the fabric, and fiddles with his lip piercing as he wrestles with his impulses.
Dammit, he’s weak.
Putting his headphones on, Jungkook clicks away to a porn site on his laptop. He’s not that big on porn, at least not anymore, but when he does indulge, he likes POV blowjobs the best. He has an oral fixation, sue him.
Something tugs at his brain, though. A curiosity.
‘Asian blonde pov blowjob’ he types into the searchbar.
There are women in cheap anime wigs at first, and he continues to scroll down, down, until-
Oh.
There’s a petite man on his knees in the thumbnail. Slender shoulders, hooded eyes, fluffy blonde hair, tongue outstretched.
He doesn’t have Jimin’s cheekbones nor his lips, and the hair color is poorly toned, but there’s a sort of resemblance there that makes Jungkook’s pulse quicken.
The video starts right in, with the blonde licking up the length of a fairly girthy cock, making little whimpering sounds at the back of his throat as he makes eye contact with the camera.
“Fuck,” Jungkook huffs, shoving a hand in his pants as he brings the briefs to his nose.
It doesn’t take much work for his mind to replace the image with Jimin, on his knees, drooling and blissed out. And the scent, there’s that musk again, but this time…there’s some of Jimin’s perfume from last night. It’s faint, but Jungkook has always had a sensitive nose.
His senses are deliciously overwhelmed, overtaken.
It’s embarrassing how quickly he comes, nearly entirely dry too.
But, god, it was good.
Jungkook has seen gay porn before, he likes to think he’s seen a little of everything. But what he’d seen before was usually western, beefy guys and lame dialogue. He feels the same about bad porn with women, cheesy is cheesy, and that’ll always be offputting.
He doesn’t know what the fuck this all says about him.
Jungkook just got off to his best friend’s used underwear for the second time, but now he’s gone and watched gay porn as an accompaniment.
“What the fuck,” he groans, slumping in his office chair.
…
The walk of shame across the hall two days later is mortifying. Jimin’s been swamped, so they haven’t really seen each other, and Jungkook is praying to every god there is that he didn’t notice his missing underwear.
He knocks softly, hears a faint, “Come in.”
Jimin is sitting cross legged on his bed with textbooks sprawled out before him, hair askew, thick glasses on his nose, classic pyjama shorts and a loose tee with the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. It’s quintessential Jimin, but Jungkook now has to question the warmth that spreads inside him when he sees it. He thought it was always just fondness. Nothing more.
“What’s up?”
“Oh uh, these found their way into my laundry somehow,” Jungkook says, holding out the gray briefs, “I washed them with my stuff.”
Jimin’s head tilts a little. “Huh, weird. Maybe I left them in the bathroom and you scooped them up by mistake.”
“Yeah, that’s probably what happened,” Jungkook agrees, feeling sick to his stomach.
“Well, thanks, you can just leave them on the bed. I’d offer to hang, but I’m not even close to finishing this stats assignment.”
“No, no you’re good, don’t worry.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to hang when midterms are over,” Jimin says warmly, but Jungkook gets even more queasy.
“Totally, yeah. Goodnight, then,” he says, but Jimin laughs and asks him to wait.
“Why are you acting like fourteen year old Jungkookie all of a sudden?”
“What- I am not,” he lies, coming closer to knock Jimin’s glasses off his face.
“Yah, brat!” Jimin yells and lurches forward to hook his arms around Jungkook’s neck in an attempt to wrestle him into a headlock. Jimin has never managed to do it even once, Jungkook always pinches his side and he lets go immediately.
This time, though, Jungkook’s hands do something completely uncalled for. They rest at Jimin’s waist, offer no resistance. They don’t pinch, if anything they pull him closer.
Jimin’s cheeks go red, but he diverts quickly, nearly seamlessly. He leans away and pinches Jungkook’s cheeks, puts some distance between them.
“Hyung, stop-” Jungkook snickers, batting him away. He throws the underwear right into Jimin’s face the next moment and retreats, practically bolts across the hall.
His lungs feel like they’re working at half capacity.
They were so close, pressed against one another. He started chubbing up immediately and Jimin absolutely could not find out.
Jungkook hasn’t been this sensitive since he discovered lotion’s contribution to masturbation.
He’s losing his mind.
Fuck..
It’s time. Enough is enough.
Jungkook sits at his desk, switches to his private Reddit, and types ‘gay awakening in your 20’s’ into the search bar.
It’ll probably be a bunch of things he can’t relate to, he’s sure. Maybe he’ll even find someone with a testimony similar to his own that confirms this is not, in fact, a gay awakening, and just some codependent psychological crap with Jimin.
He scans the first few search results, grimacing when he sees the post titles.
‘Societal pressure on boys to repress emotionally can sometimes result in coming out later in life, once a higher independence is gained…’
‘Is it gay if I like femboys…’
‘If you’re jealous and territorial over your friends, you might be queer…’
‘YOU’RE A DICKSUCKER IF YOU SEE THIS…’
Alright that last one isn’t really fair.
He keeps reading until something catches his eye two pages in.
‘My best friend came out and I’m questioning shit…’
That sounds familiar.
Jungkook opens the post and begins to skim, feeling his dinner churn and roil in his gut with each word.
From the unease at first discovery, to seeing features of his friend in a new light, to questioning his entire childhood, it’s eerily similar to Jungkook’s inner dialogue these days.
‘In the end, my perception of him changed, which allowed my perception of myself to change too. I started seeing the multitudes within him, that he can’t be put in a box, and my worldview expanded. Suddenly I remembered my affinity for girl groups as a child, how I’d want to roll my hips and emulate their styles. I reconciled that with my current self, a guy who would wear the same cargo shorts four days a week if his now boyfriend didn’t refine his style.
I started to parcel out the things I’d been taught from the things that came naturally to me, and I found that I’d been wearing a surprising amount of masks every day…’
Jungkook stops halfway in.
He can’t bring himself to keep going, because what the fuck?
There are countless memories he can summon wherein a nine or ten year old Jungkook blasted a 2NE1 album through the clunky headphones of his portable cd player, hips swaying all the way home from the bus stop.
He thinks back to his first crush(other than the G Dragon poster on his wall), and it was a girl that wore backwards caps and ruled the playground. She had such a different energy than other girls, like she didn’t expect boys to take charge because she’d gladly do it herself.
Was there really anything else that he liked? Did he pay attention when girls started developing? He can’t really remember and he’s panicking.
And that thing about masks…
Jungkook has never felt at home in certain environments. That’s why he was drawn to Jimin in the first place, he was so small and cute but would wrestle Jungkook with the ferocity of a warrior one day and make flower crowns for him the next.
That kind of bubble where they both could be anything they wanted, that’s what he liked, what he became used to.
He wasn’t prepared for locker rooms after soccer practice or notes written on bathroom stalls. He didn’t know he was different until then.
But he got really good at pretending.
And it’s not like women repulse him either. He doesn’t check them out in public, but he’s not really that kind of guy anyway. He can appreciate features no matter who they belong to, but it’s always been from sort of an artistic lens.
Sculpted shoulder blades are pleasing to put on the page, just like shapely legs and cute noses are.
He yanks an old sketchbook from his desk drawer among a broken action figure and old textbook, and flips through it in search of some kind of proof.
He likes to draw hands apparently, strong veiny hands…
There’s lots of other things too, clouds and flowers and funny characters, but when it comes to studies of the human body, the only women he can find are ones he was literally assigned to draw from a photo or model. They’re beautiful, he can recognize that but…
The things he scribbles in margins are all quite masculine, or at least nondescript. He can’t relate to the person that drew these, like he’s remembering someone else’s past.
Is this really possible?
To not see it all until now, after one single encounter?
Can one moment really change everything?
He almost resents that it’s Jimin. His best friend, his touchstone. It’s too complicated, just too much in every way.
Jungkook has to know for sure, has to be sure before he spirals any further.
…
The very next night, Jungkook finds he and Jimin alone in the house, which is a rare occurrence.
They’re on the couch, embroiled in a cutthroat Smash Bros match. Jimin hollers and leans from side to side as if he’s blocking Jungkook’s attacks in actuality, while the younger is stoic in his approaching victory.
It isn’t unlike him anyway, but he has way too much on his mind to be fully invested right now.
They each downed a beer before the start of this match, and he’s grateful for it. He’d never be able to ask what he’s about to ask.
The timer runs out and Jungkook got three more K.O. 's than Jimin, but rather than celebrating, his stomach drops. No distraction now.
“You’re too good at this shit.”
“I can lose next time,” Jungkook says in all earnest, but Jimin laughs like it was a joke.
“Just wait until I train on a mountaintop for six months, you’ll never beat me then.”
Jungkook laughs a little, but his stomach is still flopping too wildly for it to be entirely genuine.
He gulps, uses the moment when Jimin takes a sip of his next beer, and blurts out a mess of jumbled words.
“Hyung would- uh, could you- fuck-“
Yeah he’s doing great.
“Could you uh…let me try something?”
Jimin eyes him like he grew a second head. “I’m sorry?”
No going back now.
“I just- I need to see something, and I need your help.”
“Do you have a wart or something? Oh my god, did you catch an STD?”
“What-no, it’s not like that. I just…need you to kiss me.”
Now Jimin’s eyes are so wide that Jungkook may as well have grown three extra heads.
“Why- why would you ask me that?” He stammers, knees curling up to his chest.
Fuck this is too hard.
“I just- god this is gonna sound ridiculous…I’ve been having a lot of thoughts lately and- you know you’re pretty, almost like a girl, and ever since the other day- I mean, I thought I could just be sure-”
“I’m not a girl, Jungkook.”
“I know that…”
“You are weirded out that I’m gay, aren’t you?” He asks, eyes growing a little misty, more reflective in the lamplight, and it makes Jungkook’s chest ache.
“No- well, I guess maybe, but not for the reason you’re thinking.”
Jesus, why is it so hard for him to organize his thoughts?
“Then what is the reason?”
“Uhm…” Jungkook can’t bear to look at him anymore, turns his gaze to his own twiddling thumbs instead, “I need to know if…I feel anything.”
Jimin is quiet for a second, his jaw hard set and eyes boring into Jungkook so hard he actually feels his body heat getting uncomfortably high under the weight of it.
“Isn’t there some other guy you can kiss?”
What?
“Why would I-”
“If you need an experiment, your best friend isn’t a good choice. It’s hurtful, actually.” Jimin’s tone is so clipped, strained like he’s trying not to cry.
“I don’t want to kiss another guy.”
“Right, because I’m girly enough to make it okay.”
“No! Hyung, that’s not- it’s not because of that. Really,” he’s practically pleading, turning to face Jimin on the sofa and inching closer.
“Then why?”
Jimin’s chin is held high, defensive, strong. His hair is getting long, the ends curl against his neck like ivy, and his shirt sleeves are rolled up to expose his shoulders in that signature way. Those piercing eyes, small hands, pouty lips, crooked front tooth, the lines of his body, they’re the most immense feeling of home Jungkook has ever had.
Jimin is home.
“I think I-”
He almost says it. He really does. But he can’t.
“Um, I think I’m…questioning, and I would just feel safe with you so…”
It isn’t untrue, but it most certainly isn’t the whole truth.
A single second stretches into eternity as Jungkook studies every twitch in Jimin’s face.
The corner of his mouth quirks up a little. Then a lot. Then Jimin is doubled over in laughter and Jungkook feels like he should be offended.
“Hyung I’m being vulnerable,” Jungkook almost whines.
“I know, I know,” Jimin wheezes between his laughter, “I’m sorry, you just look like ten year old Jungkook-ah right now.”
“Yeah well I’m not,” Jungkook says with renewed determination, rising to his knees on the sofa and looming over Jimin, crowding him onto his back against the armrest, “I don’t want you to see me that way.”
His voice is lower, almost hushed, messy black curls tickling Jimin’s forehead as he inches closer.
Jimin’s breath hitches, like his body is suspended in time. His eyes are all that move, flickering down to Jungkook’s parted lips with apprehension.
“I…I don’t know that this is a good idea,” He mumbles, “Aren’t you afraid it’ll affect our friendship or something?”
Jungkook huffs out a throaty chuckle.
Because under these pretenses, no. If he were to tell Jimin the truth, that he’s the sole reason for this supposed awakening, then sure.
But Jungkook can’t seem to divulge that right now. He’s just getting more desperate with each second he spends taking in those petal pink, plump lips beneath him. He needs this like air.
“It doesn’t need to affect anything. It’s basically for science. You love science.”
Jimin snorts, shakes his head a little like he can’t believe this is real, “You promise it won’t be weird after? That things won’t be different?”
Jungkook gives a halfhearted hum, his eyes fixated on the way Jimin’s lips shape around vowels, the way his tongue swipes across them like a nervous habit.
Jimin opens his mouth to say something else, but Jungkook can’t tolerate the distance any longer.
He surges forward the few inches it takes for his lips to meet Jimin’s and-
“Mmh…”
Fuck.
He moans into it, melts into it, can’t believe how soft and supple it feels. His brow furrows from the sheer enormity of desire that shoots through his body like a lightning bolt, angling his head to deepen the kiss as much as humanly possible.
Before he even realizes, his weight is flattened against Jimin, pressing him into the cushions from in between his legs. The shorts he’s wearing are riding up and Jungkook helps it along, scaling a hand up Jimin’s outer thigh and bringing the fabric with it, reveling in smooth skin and toned muscles.
Jimin’s hands land on Jungkook’s shoulders and grip him hard, but otherwise the elder seems to be almost frozen in his hold.
Is he feeling this? The fucking magnitude of electricity between them?
Jungkook can only think back to that day, hear those little whimpers, see Jimin’s weeping cock desperate for release.
Fuck he wants to do that to him, make him feel that good, he wants so much, he wants everything.
It’s almost overwhelming, and all at once he’s overcome with arousal and even a bit of jealousy. He’s growing harder and harder in his jeans, doesn’t even think before he grinds down against Jimin’s pelvis.
“Ah- Jungkook, stop- Jungkook,” Jimin sputters breathlessly, weakly pushing against his pecs.
With waning willpower, Jungkook does manage to pull away, but the sight he’s greeted with does nothing to quell the heat in his gut.
Jimin’s piercing eyes are heavy lidded, a light flush dusts his cheeks, and those sinful lips are swollen red, glistening with Jungkook’s own saliva. He looks like he did that day.
Fucked out.
Their gazes meet, and Jungkook goes cold with a sobering thought.
He’s going to have to break that promise, that nothing will change, because it has.
Everything is different now.
“Shit.”