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All You Won't Ask For

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“I mean,” Seokjin sighs, setting his cup aside and leaning forward over the picnic table. “It’s not like the good ones are cheap, right? And he is a student…”

Namjoon is quick to mirror him, pulling his chewed up straw out of his mouth mid-sip to make way for more frustration.

“That’s not the point, though,” he hisses and sees Seokjin deflate. He agrees with him, Namjoon knows he does. If this were about any other person, any other past partner, Seokjin would be outraged on his behalf. “My issue is not the quality, it’s why the hell he’s buying them in the first place.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons...”

“What he has is the real thing, but apparently that’s not good enough for–”

“Okay,” Seokjin interrupts, snatching one of Namjoon’s wrists into a tight grip to rest his flailing arm back on top of the table. He has a stern look on his face and while Seokjin may have been making excuses this whole conversation, Namjoon was definitely acting like a child. “You know damn well that’s not what’s going on here– let me finish!”

He grabs Namjoon’s other wrist when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Out of the millions of possible explanations behind this, we can definitely rule out the one where Jeon ‘Namjoon senpai notice me’ Jungkook thinks you are not good enough.”

Namjoon snorts and looks away, but a demanding squeeze around his wrists forces his gaze to meet Seokjin’s again.

“He would eat dirt if you asked him to.”

“What the hell, I wouldn’t,” Namjoon frowns.

Exactly. I know that. He knows that. That’s why he likes you so much, he trusts you not to take advantage of the fucking bonfire of a torch he carries for you. Try returning that trust.” Seokjin’s tone has gone uncharacteristically soft and Namjoon can barely stand it.

He slides his wrists out of Seokjin’s loosened hold, letting his hands fall limp in his lap. He wasn’t sure if he felt any better, with none of his questions answered, but one fear extinguished was better than nothing.

“At the very least, I wish he wouldn’t hide it from me,” Namjoon continued, shoulders slumped forward. He eyed his abandoned drink to avoid Seokjin’s gaze; it was practically full but he didn’t think he could stomach it at this point. “I could help, you know? I don’t want him to hurt himself…”

“That bad?”

Namjoon sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t even know where he’s getting them from, but I hope he’s sticking a condom on them. I’m pretty sure the first one I found was rubber.”

It was hot pink and between its weight and its texture, Namjoon wasn’t sure what he had just discovered in his boyfriend’s sock drawer until he found the accompanying bottle of lube stored nearby. He can’t remember how long he stood staring at it in his vice grip, failing to fight the rush of misplaced jealousy and betrayal that drowned his chest.

Up until that point, Namjoon was under the impression that Jungkook hadn’t brought it up because he wasn’t ready. They were taking it slow, Namjoon himself had insisted they do so and Jungkook had agreed. Now, Namjoon was left wondering if Jungkook was only going with the flow for his sake.

The first one he found, cheap and just artificial, sent a wave of inadequacy washing over him. The toy, a sad and almost absurd rendition of the real thing, made him think that maybe there were needs Jungkook had that Namjoon wasn’t meeting. And worse, that Jungkook would rather take care of them himself than ask Namjoon for help.

The hurt robbing his appetite all week was illogical, but it throbbed in his gut just as well.

Disgust twists Seokjin’s expression, as he set his drink down. “That’s… not good.”

“No, it’s not. The positor seemed okay, at least.”

The positor, he couldn’t really help with, but he was still surprised when he pulled it out from underneath Jungkook’s bed.

“Is ‘okay’ good enough for a positor?”

“Not really,” he sighs, pushing his drink even further aside. “I’m not an expert, but as far as orthodoxy and sex toys can go…”

“The ovipositor company is not taking out an ad in Cosmo,” Seokjin finishes the thought, leaning his chin into his palm and staring pensively out into the nearby field.

“Exactly,” Namjoon snorts.

He goes home feeling significantly lighter after his conversation with Seokjin and then, just to stir his own shit pot, proceeds to do exactly what he promised himself he wouldn’t do, what he’d been doing almost every day for the past two weeks. The self-inflicted body torture he’d been subjecting himself to had evolved into a compulsion. Every time he walked by a mirror or caught his reflection in any object, Namjoon became uncomfortably aware of his own body and needed an immediate reminder of what it looked like, every detail, from every angle.

No, not just what he looked like. What he looked like in comparison to it. Odds were, if his memory of his own body was failing him, the picture of the toys that plagued his thoughts also probably strayed from their actual form. Logic did little to dissuade his mind from tearing into his self-esteem every chance it got. Namjoon felt like he was living in the hall of mirrors of a carnival.

The shower was a necessary evil, but this was plain cruel.

Hair damp and dripping, he stands in front of the full body mirror in his bedroom with his towel slung low on his hips. Under the soft lighting, they are imperceptible. Even in daylight, you couldn’t really see them unless you knew what to look for. Namjoon, true to his destruction routine, runs his hands down and over his hips, smoothing out the slits into absolute invisibility. He remembers a time when he was much younger and much angrier, a time when he would smooth them out in hopes that they would stay that way, wishing with all his heart that this flatter version of himself would magically become the real one.

He’d grown since then. Now, came the hard part.

In the beginning of his healing, it felt wrong, like rubbing a cat the wrong way. Namjoon had shuddered and gagged in front of countless mirrors across countless nights before he learned to love himself in every direction.

This time he runs his hands upwards, in the opposite direction. He flinches when the edges of the slits flutter open against his touch and almost looks away when the tips begin to poke out from underneath. Instead, he greets them, coaxes them out further until all eight of them slither out, pushing against the tight stretch of the slits. He lets them settle at his sides, relaxing his control just enough to watch them instinctively curl around each other or wrap around the backs of his thighs. He doesn’t shudder when he feels the warm wetness against his clean skin nor does he pull the reins back at the slight suction.

Unless he focuses the muscles into a hanging position, the first instinct of his tentacles is to grab onto or wrap around whatever they can find. Usually, Namjoon is the nearest object. In fact, Namjoon makes sure he is, in fear of what would happen otherwise. He remembers the first time he met Jungkook, the instant stirrings at his sides. He remembers all too well the way he sweat his way through his introduction, using most of his will to keep them in.

It had never happened before. They liked Jungkook, if that was even possible.

Seokjin had equated the ordeal to an “unwanted boner,” which is not bad as far as phallic comparisons go. Mind you, dicks didn’t usually burst through clothing to wrap around their object of attraction. Had he let his guard down for a second, Namjoon had a feeling the scenario would have played out just so.

They like him.

His control got better once they started dating, but they never talked about it. In hindsight, they should have. The timing didn’t help either, with his healing journey peaking too far into his relationship with Jungkook. He felt like it wasn’t worth bringing up anymore. At some point between their meeting and official relationship, Seokjin assured Namjoon that Jungkook knew about the tentacles and for Namjoon, that was enough.

That clearly was not the case anymore.

They like him.

He always knew they liked him, so much so that every doe-eyed smile had Namjoon questioning his control over them. But now, there was the potential of reciprocation, a small promise of harmony where Namjoon no longer needs to fight for control, where there is no fight to begin with.

What if he could like them back?

He watches them unfurl, now alert and ready at the mere thought of Jungkook.

“Oh my God,” Namjoon moans, rubbing his hands over his face. “You’re so embarrassing.”

How is he supposed to confront his boyfriend in a civil manner when he can barely get through the thought of it in his own damn house?

Regardless, he knows he needs to do it soon. The anticipation is building up too fast and they are getting more and more restless as the days go by. The what-if’s plaguing his brain became intolerable a week ago and the pulpy remains of his self-esteem are no longer worth beating up. His control slipping, no thanks to the string of bedroom discoveries, he knows a deep bow to his fate is long overdue.

Before he hesitates, he picks up his phone and tries to forge a casual tone when he invites himself over to Jungkook’s place in a text. He rereads the message over and over again throughout the evening, even after Jungkook suggests a time. Especially after Jungkook asks him if everything is okay.

He feels guilty brushing off his concern. He feels even worse when his resolve wavers in front of Jungkook’s apartment the next day. His cowardice peaks when he can barely meet his boyfriend’s eyes.

Starting a confrontation with an apology, Namjoon finds, defeats the purpose of a confrontation entirely. He knows he has to address his own blatant breach of trust before accusing Jungkook of anything. This honesty was meant to lessen the blow, not create a preview of the pain.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jungkook sits with his legs crossed on the couch, visibly nervous with both his knees fidgeting. He is doing his best to keep his tone casual, even as the panic permeates through every other part of his body.

“I… Before we get to that,” Namjoon takes a deep breath and stares Jungkook dead in the eyes. “I wanted to apologize to you. I invaded your privacy and– by accident though! Well, the first two times were by accident and then it was just driving me crazy, so I snooped a little and I totally, one hundred percent understand if you’re mad at me, I just–”

Namjoon follows Jungkook’s reactions carefully. Both the confusion and the wide brown eyes warrant the classic deer-in-headlights imagery, but the sweet question blooming across Jungkook’s face darkens into an answer rapidly as Namjoon rambles on, just barely alluding to the discovery. He doesn’t make it to a proper explanation, as Jungkook’s breath grows louder and shallower, and the panic begins to choke him.

“Kook,” Namjoon says, voice sharp.

“Kookie,” he repeats, but it’s no use. Jungkook’s eyes glaze over, staring wide into nothing. Namjoon moves fast, the steps clear in his mind, one after the other, like choreography.

He hooks his grip under Jungkook’s knees and swivels him on the couch until he’s facing forward, feet flat against the carpet. Namjoon is kneeling between his legs, hands pressing into his thighs.

Ground him.

“Kookie, can you hear me? Deep breaths now, okay? Follow me.” He stares up at Jungkook. His face is still blank, but the choking slows at the sound of Namjoon’s voice.

Namjoon takes a deep breath, eyes focused on his boyfriend. Relief floods his chest when Jungkook follows.

“And out.” He exhales. Jungkook follows. “Again.”

Jungkook breathes. His body is trembling underneath Namjoon’s touch, but he’s breathing and that’s important.

“When you can,” Namjoon speaks softly. “Can you tell me two things you can smell.”

Jungkook nods. “The beef from last night… your…”

His voice is strained. Namjoon gives him a moment to calm down again.

“The beef from last night and your fancy detergent.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Good. Can you tell me three things you can feel?”

“Hyung, I think I’m okay now–”

“Please?”

Jungkooks nods again, eyes closed. He doesn’t speak for a moment, licking at his chapped lips, only to bite at them again.

“I feel the carpet, ‘s soft. The couch too...”

Namjoon hums, squeezing his thigh a little tighter.

“Your hand is sweaty, hyung. I can feel it through the material.”

When Jungkook laughs and opens his eyes, Namjoon is sure he’s okay.

“Sorry,” he apologizes and stands up, wiping his hands against his own pants. He sits back down, but Jungkook doesn’t turn to face him. The smile has left his face and the moment the colour had begun to return to his face is lost for good. As he remembers what caused the panic attack in the first place, Jungkook’s face falls ashen and twists with anguish.

Namjoon wants to let him simmer down, tries to calm the electricity tingling uncomfortably in the air. When it doesn’t happen, when his boyfriend refuses to look at him again, Namjoon ventures into the unknown.

“Jungkook. Can you say something?”

He makes his voice impossibly soft, eyes fixed on Jungkook’s trembling lip, but it’s no use. It’s too late now. Each word a penny dropped into a full glass, Namjoon proceeds with great caution. He was expecting an argument, even a fight, but not tears. He did not bode well with crying. Faced with Jungkook’s doe eyes welling to the brim, he is a weak, weak man.

“I’m not mad,” he tries, not anticipating the final penny.

The glass doesn’t overflow, he was wrong about that. Jungkook had been a dam all along and Namjoon watches in guilty horror as the walls crack and break into pieces.

There is no room for a glass. There is no singular tear, no shaking gasp, or sniffle. The ugly sob racks his entire body, loud and wet, twisting his face into a wailing blotchy mess within seconds of leaving his throat. Jungkook’s hands come up to cup over his mouth and nose, but do little to muffle the heaving of his chest.

Alarm paralyzes Namjoon. With all his might, he wants to go to him, hold Jungkook close to his chest and pet his hair until he calms down. But the magnitude of his reaction came as a complete shock and Namjoon fears there is something bigger that he is missing and whatever that something is, it runs much deeper than he could have known.

“Hey, breathe,” he whispers, placing his hands tightly over Jungkook’s shoulders. He keeps him at arms’ length, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” he chokes into his palms. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m sorry,” Namjoon pleads. “I’m sorry I snooped, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

Jungkook leans forward and Namjoon lets him fall into his chest. He holds him tightly, lets him sniffle against his collarbone while he pets the back of his head. Namjoon feels horrible, wonders if Jungkook can hear his heart skipping every other beat, if he’s figured out that Namjoon doesn’t deserve him, doesn’t deserve his softness and kindness. Namjoon wonders how the bleeding hell he could forget about that softness and kindness so easily, how his jealousy and insecurity could cloud so thickly over all his favourite parts of Jungkook.

He can’t understand how, when faced with Jungkook’s own insecurities, he dared doubt instead of love.

“Why didn’t you?” Jungkook croaks into his shirt.

Namjoon knows he owes his boyfriend more than ‘because I’m an idiot,’ but that means he needs to be open and honest. He could never see himself the way Jungkook did, but he’d hoped that he would be able to achieve that impossible image instead of destroying it. A pipe dream, he realizes a little too late.

“I was scared of the answer, so I picked the worst case scenario and tried to cope with it,” he admits. He lets his fingers drag lightly between the stands of his hair and slip down his boyfriend’s spine. Jungkook’s sniffling has slowed down, his breath now loud and deep as his lungs try to make up for the lost oxygen.

“I figured you weren’t attracted to me and felt kind of shitty about it,” he sighs. “And like, you can’t force attraction, but you seem to be into… that, so I didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just ask. It’s fine though, that you don’t want it with me, but we should still talk about– Kook?”

Jungkook pushes himself away from Namjoon, both hands spread wide against his chest, and pegs him with the most furious look he’s ever been subject to. The darkness of his gaze and the absolute rage curling his lips into a sneer cut Namjoon’s breath short. He’s never seen Jungkook this way and part of him is positive nobody else has.

“What.” Jungkook spits. It’s not a question.

“Uh.”

“Did you just fucking say I don’t… I don’t want it with you?” Jungkook hisses, his fingers curling tightly into the material.

“Yes?” Namjoon is an idiot.

“Hyung, I need to know. Please, I really really need to know how–”

“I’ll tell you. Anything, Kookie. I’m so sorry,” Namjoon grovels grabbing Jungkook’s wrists. The look on his boyfriend’s face is merciless, absolutely devoid of patience.

“How do you go around being this fucking stupid?”

Before Namjoon can even gape, Jungkook is pulling his hands away. He’s never cursed at him like that.

“No. Not that. How dare you be this fucking stupid? How dare you somehow make me feel worse! After I– Hyung!” Jungkook’s voice breaks and his eyes fill with tears again. Somehow, Namjoon’s heart breaks into a million pieces a second time. “Hyung, how can a thought like that even cross your mind? After everything, you knew... I always...”

Jungkook bites down hard on his lips and stares up at the ceiling to blink away the tears. Every second Namjoon spends not touching him feels like an eternity of solitude. He wants nothing more than to settle the angry ocean of emotion souring his boyfriend’s face, but Namjoon happens to also be the person who angered it in the first place. He hated himself all week and now he hates himself in a different way. Jungkook’s face is a brand new mirror, one he doesn’t have years of experience battling. Worse, unlike his reflection, it tells some truth.

“I’m so angry at you for thinking that,” Jungkook finally speaks, gaze still averted.

“Thinking what?”

“That I would ever not want you” Jungkook shakes his head. “After everything, all those years… you know how I was. The hyungs told you how I felt for the longest time and you still think that.”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything. He dares place his hand on top of Jungkook’s knee and enjoys a drop of relief when Jungkook’s places his hand over his.

“Here I thought you were going to be mad, that you were disgusted with me,” he scoffs. “But of course, you manage to think up the most ridiculous argument to somehow make this your fault.”

“Why would I be disgusted?” Namjoon frowns. There is nothing wrong with kink, nothing wrong with being attracted to a certain type of physical attribute or type of person.

“You don’t exactly… show them off, hyung.” Jungkook groans and buries his face into his palms. His voice comes out muffled, but his words resonate in Namjoon’s head, clear as day. “I thought… I thought you’d think I was objectifying you. Sexualizing you? I don’t know, whatever term fits better.”

Namjoon brain short circuits.

“Maybe they all fit. Maybe I’m just that shitty of a person. I just didn’t want you to think that it’s the only thing I liked about you–”

“You never brought it up.” Namjoon hears the words leave his mouth, but does not feel his lips move.

“Hyung, you never brought it up,” Jungkook pokes his chest. “What was I supposed to say? I thought you didn’t trust me, I was willing to wait–”

“We both agreed to wait! I thought you weren’t ready!”

“No.” Jungkook’s voice, no longer wavering, is deep and upset instead. “No, hyung. I did not pine like a fucking pre-teen for so long for you to assume I wasn’t ready. That’s not fair. I wasn’t just waiting. I’ve been always waiting for you and– and I can keep waiting, hyung! I can wait forever, but you don’t get to say… you don’t…”

A couple wayward tears escape down his cheeks, only to be angrily wiped away. And before Namjoon knows it, before he can even register that his boyfriend might start crying again, Jungkook’s frustrations finally boil to the surface, out for Namjoon’s blood.

“Just because you hated them doesn’t mean I ever did!” He shouts at him.

“For me, it’s always been you and it’s always been all of you, hyung!”

Jungkook’s purses his lips against the oncoming sobs, tries to look away, but rediscovers shelter in the crook of Namjoon’s neck. He launches himself towards his chest and lets Namjoon wrap his arms around him again. He wants to comfort Jungkook, but refrains from moving in fear of breaking the fragile emotion that has enveloped his boyfriend’s shaking form. He wants to apologize again, he wants to tell him that it’s okay, he wants to ask a million other questions that might make him cry, that might even make Namjoon cry.

It’s not a change in subject, but it’s the next best thing.

“When did you even buy them?” He asks, gently pulling away from Jungkook, needing to see his face.

Namjoon doesn’t know why it matters. He feels like he’s speaking through the glass of a fishbowl. His mind is zoning him out, his vision is blurring and every action from then on feels involuntary, like his body switched to autopilot after his brain stopped working.

“I already had them,” Jungkook speaks to the crest of Namjoon’s chest, a deep blush painting his face a colour that Namjoon adores.

“What?”

“I already had them, from before we…before it was official.”

“Oh."

A pause.

“For how long before?” They danced around each other for a few months before getting together.

Jungkook sits up. His eyes meet Namjoon’s in a hard stare when he speaks and it is Namjoon’s turn to blush.

“Years.”

Oh.

“Oh.” He is definitely blushing. He could stare at his feet all he wanted, there was no doubt Jungkook could see him blushing. He meets his gaze again and thinks that they must look like quite the pair, all wide eyes and pink faces. In spite of their embarrassment, he asks the question he already knows the answer to.

“Why did you buy them?”

“You know why.” It’s a little angry, just a hair from snapping, but it still makes Namjoon flinch.

Right. He knows why. And if he told Seokjin about this, he would know too. And everyone else in their circle of friends. Their periphery of fucking acquaintances could have figured it out and yet it took making Jungkook cry for Namjoon to realize the obvious.

“I can’t believe you found every bargain tentacle dildo on the market in my bedroom and thought I was disgusted. How does that make sense, hyung?”

“Hey,” Namjoon raises a hand to Jungkook’s chin, tilting his head until their gazes finally meet. He wants to be genuine, but the way Jungkook’s big brown eyes almost cross to stare at him spreads a soft smile over Namjoon’s lips. “It doesn’t make sense and I’m sorry. For not making much sense, that is. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise my intentions were the opposite.”

Jungkook nods, hands sliding up Namjoon’s chest to wrap around his neck, and Namjoon can’t help himself anymore. He leans forward, relishes in Jungkook’s eyes fluttering shut, and presses a deep, desperate kiss against his lips.

“I’m sorry, Kookie,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry, too,” Jungkook whispers back. “I should’ve told you.”

“It’s okay, you told me now.” Namjoon grins. “Besides, I think it’s time we got you some better quality ones.”

He chuckles when Jungkook groans and blushes, flicking a finger against his chest. Embarrassed, he stares down to where their laps meets, drawing circles with his finger on Namjoon’s T-shirt.

“Not– not the real thing?”

Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat, audibly, prompting Jungook’s gaze to snap back upwards. He lets Namjoon burn up before his sheepish demeanour, bites down on his lips for good measure.

“I mean, if you… well, you said you did, so… yes? The real thing, yes.” Namjoon splutters through his mess of thoughts with little to no grace, but it’s all proves to be worth it. His answer could barely be considered an answer, but it was the right one nevertheless.

“Yeah?” Jungkook smiles, a real smile, and Namjoon’s heart blooms in his chest.

“Yeah. Just uh, tell me when.”

“Why don’t you tell me when, hyung?” He perks, nuzzling his nose against Namjoon’s cheek.

“Yeah! Sure, I’ll uh. I’ll tell you.”

Namjoon tightens his hold on him. His insides raw after weathering that storm, he needs Jungkook as close as he can get him at the moment, knowing just how much different that closeness would soon become.

 

‘Soon’ turns out to be an overstatement. Between exams and holidays spent back home, Namjoon and Jungkook only find themselves sharing a bed again a month after their conversation. Namjoon isn’t sure what it is about being apart that sets them back a few steps, but the intimacy between them grew a little awkward during the period of distance.

Namjoon shows up at Jungkook’s place with some wine and take-out from their favourite restaurant to mourn over the end of syllabus week.

“I don’t know what it is about this semester, but half my profs are already asking for assignments. In week two!” Jungkook laments, leaning back against the couch cushion and running his hands through his hair.

Namjoon listens to his boyfriend’s complaints, chuckling every time a whine raises the pitch of his voice. He is relatively quiet throughout their conversation, chiming in every now and then, but allowing Jungkook to rant for most of it.

After they clean up, Namjoon follows Jungkook to his bedroom to help him with some math homework. The door is closing behind them when Namjoon remembers that Jungkook is an art student with a psychology minor, but it’s too late. Jungkook is already sitting on the edge of his bed, pulling Namjoon on top of him.

Jungkook grabs the front of his shirt and crushes their lips together. They kiss, mouths wide open, devouring each other after an unbearable month of passing touches and rushed kisses.

They make out for what feels like hours, but is actually minutes. Namjoon is trying his best to give to Jungkook, but his boyfriend is relentless. His lips pushing Namjoon’s open, pushing his tongue inside to suck on his, teeth biting and pulling at his bottom lip. Namjoon lets Jungkook take and take until he can’t wait any longer.

If he waits any longer, if he lets it go on, he is going to make an irresponsible decision. He owes Jungkook more than that.

You owe yourself more than that, his mind adds.

“Would… would you like to see them?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment, but brings Jungkook’s mouth to a halt. Namjoon can barely believe he spoke those words.

Jungkook, already breathless, gasps from beneath him. His lips are swollen and wet from Namjoon’s mouth; the sight sends a visible shiver through Namjoon.

“Really?”

Namjoon swallows, but powers through an assertive nod. There is no doubt in his head that he wants this. He needs to know Jungkook is just as certain.

“I would love to, hyung.” There are stars in Jungkook’s eyes. Namjoon relishes in their sparkle before they turn into questions when he rolls off Jungkook’s body.

“Hyung?”

“I need to uh…” he brings his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. “I need to debrief you before…”

Jungkook is scrambling to mirror Namjoon’s sitting position within seconds, the eager sparkle in his eyes even brighter. Jungkook nods, tucks his face between his legs and watches Namjoon intently over his knees, waiting for him to begin. And Namjoon? He can barely help himself.

“I’m so in love with you I can’t tell you how in love with you I am,” he laughs and then laughs even harder when Jungkook screws his eyes shut.

“Hyung, oh my God, stop,” he whines.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll uh… I’ll start then.”

He takes a deep inhale and reminds himself that he is in a safe space and that the person he is about to bare himself to loves him just as fiercely. Jungkook is his safe space, Jungkook loves him, Jungkook deserves this.

You deserve this, Namjoon thinks and exhales.

“I’ve hated them for most of my life. I hated how they looked and how I could barely control them and how they made me different from most people. I hated them so much that, the second I learned how to control them without wasting too much of my energy, I kept them hidden.”

Jungkook nods along and Namjoon wonders if Seokjin had told him some of this already. He wouldn’t blame Jungkook for asking.

“And it was fine, you know? My closest friends knew about them, but we never really talked about it. My past partners either preferred I kept them in check or were dating me solely because of them.”

Namjoon appreciates the crack of Jungkook’s knuckles more than he should.

“They’re reproductive parts, in a way. So they have a lot to do with my sexuality and who I’m attracted to. It’s really hard to keep them in check during sex…”

“But here’s the thing. It’s really embarrassing and I apologize in advance, but they… they really like you for some reason? Like, even the first time I met you, I never had so much trouble holding them down. They got so excited! The first time you touched me, I’m pretty sure it was an accident, but I had to lock myself in a stall for a bit. This happens every time you’re around, I see you and they just go apeshit. Even now, I’m sort of holding them down, they like you so much for some reason and– oh my God Kook, stop grinning!”

“Sorry,” Jungkook whispers but does absolutely nothing to remove the wide, shining grin plastered on his face. Somehow, it’s both smug and plain delighted. “Go on, hyung.”

“Right,” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “They like you a bit more than I want them to. I’m pretty sure I’ll lose most control if I were to completely let go during sex with you. I’m scared I’ll have trouble stopping it immediately if we ever need to stop.”

Jungkook lifts his head up, expression serious, and squares his shoulders. He looks determined and that rattles fear in Namjoon’s gut.

“Hyung, even if I ask you to?”

“I… I can’t be sure,” he admits.

“But they like me right? You don’t want to hurt me, so they don’t either. Wouldn’t that make sense?”

Namjoon blinks. He’d never really thought about that. In hindsight, he’d only recently started considering his tentacles as a part of him rather than an unfortunate accessory he had to deal with. It would make sense for them to operate in harmony with his feelings and desires, instead of opposing them, but there was also no way of guaranteeing it.

“I actually don’t know.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook unfolds his body and scoots closer to him until his hands are cupping both his cheeks. Their roles reversed, Namjoon is the one staring up at him now and his eyes, he suspects, must look a little doe-like too.

“Are you telling me that if we had a safeword, a word that means I really want to stop because you’re hurting me, you wouldn’t stop? I think you would, hyung! You would never hurt me...”

Namjoon thinks he could cry. He wants nothing more than to reassure Jungkook or at the very least, believe Jungkook is right about his tentacles. He wants to believe so badly that he actually has enough control over them to say with certainty that he won’t hurt his boyfriend.

“Kookie…”

“And I don’t think they would either. And I’m not just saying that! And I don’t want to pressure you but… I told you I love all of you and hyung, I really think all of you loves me back.” Jungkook picks up one of Namjoon’s hands to fiddle with his fingers.

Namjoon watches him for a moment, considers his words, battles his thoughts over and over again until they are reduced to a simple truth, one Jungkook has already figured out. He loves Jungkook. He would never hurt Jungkook, not intentionally. And so, he will take all necessary measures to keep Jungkook safe.

“If you’re sure…”

“I am!” He perks, dropping his hand.

“I have conditions.” He cups a hand over Jungkook’s cheeks and beams when Jungkook leans into his touch.

“I’m listening.”

“I will do my absolute best at stopping when you ask me to, I need you to understand that I will. I will try my best, but that might not be enough. If you tell me to stop and I don’t, promise me you will do everything in your power to get away from me.”

Jungkook’s face darkens, as he pulls Namjoon’s hand away from his face. “Hyung…”

“Promise me. If I don’t stop, you will do anything to get away from me.”

Namjoon holds Jungkook’s gaze, watches him nibble at his bottom lip and consider him with worried eyes.

“Okay, hyung. I promise.”

“Good,” Namjoon relaxes a little. “I’m glad were on the same page and don’t be afraid to tell me to stop at any time–”

“Can we have a safeword instead?” Jungkook cuts him off and immediately looks away.

“Uh,” Namjoon frowns. “I guess?”

“It’s just… I might tell you to stop, but I don't want you to actually… stop.” Jungkook cringes at his own words and dares a sideways glance towards Namjoon, who stares back with bulging eyes.

“What?” Jungkook flushes.

“So when you say ‘stop’…”

“Don’t stop.”

“Right.”

It’s Namjoon’s turn to look away. He decides not to think too hard about what Jungkook is implying, he definitely pretends like it’s not affecting him as much as it is. In their defence, they definitely succeeded in taking it slow up until this point. It wasn’t so much a gradual ascent as it was build up to something huge.

“And the safeword?” He asks, despite himself.

“Venom.”

Of course.

“Very funny,” Namjoon buries his face in his palms. This was a lot.. This was way more than he anticipated it ever being.

The mattress shifts underneath him and when he looks up again, Jungkook has created some distance between them.

“Ready when you are, hyung.” Jungkook sits back on his haunches, hands on his knees. It’s both endearing and terrifying all at once.

Namjoon takes in a shaky breath. He switches into a kneeling position, rolls his shoulder back a couple of times and spends a little too long with his fingers at the hem of his shirt. It feels like jumping off a cliff. His mind guarantees a safe landing, his body thinks he is insane, screams at him not to take that final step.

He pulls his shirt off over his head and beckons to Jungkook.

“Here,” he says, his voice cracking. He twists his body to the side, pushes the hem of his sweatpants downward and runs a finger upwards against the slits. On cue, they flutter open and Jungkook sucks in a breath.

“They’re on your sides,” Jungkook whispers, full of awe, as he leans in closer.

“Yeah, down to my hips.” He twists in the opposite direction and demonstrates on his other side, as well.

“Woah… There’s four of those openings, so you have eight?” He glances up, smiling wide.

“Yeah. Eight total.”

“Can I?”

“Y-yeah, slowly.”

Jungkook nods and gently brings a finger up to Namjoon’s hip. He runs the side of his index up his silhouette and Namjoon’s grinds his teeth to dust trying to hold back.

Jungkook gasps, but surprisingly, doesn’t pull away when the top tentacle peeks out. Instead, he greets the tip with the tip of his finger, gently coaxing it out further. Namjoon allows that top one – the smallest one – to slither out slowly. Once its out at full length, Jungkook is sitting up straight before Namjoon, letting the tentacle wrap around his wrist at eye-level.

“Thank you, hyung,” he says softly. “Can I pet it? It’s so silky.”

“Sure,” Namjoon shrugs. He tries to act casual, despite his set jaw and trembling arms. He’s perfectly fine. It’s not like the love of his life has his biggest fear wrapped around his arm at the moment.

Jungkook brings his other hand up to carefully pet the curving top of the tentacle, even giving in a small squeeze. The sheer awe on his face, in his voice, in his touch, it makes Namjoon’s anxious heart sing.

“It feels kind of tense,” he frowns, actually concerned.

“I’m holding them back, that’s why,” Namjoon chuckles, cringing as Jungkook runs an index finger along the length of the tentacle.

“Can you let them go?”

Namjoon tenses even more.

“I can… but I don’t want to scare you.”

“You won’t, hyung. This one is so nice, let the others come out.” Jungkook is beaming, almost cooing at the tentacle gripping his wrist.

“Are you sure?”

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, biting his lip.

“Please?”

It might have been the exhaustion from resisting for so long. It might have been the weakness of his will. But Namjoon let’s go and it feels like an elastic snapping.

It all happens in a split second. They both gasp as the seven other tentacles unleash themselves out of him, wrapping themselves around Jungkook’s limbs and waist. In one swift tug, they drag him forward until his face is an inch away from Namjoon’s.

“Hi,” Jungkook laughs, breathless.

“Hello,” Namjoon returns.

“They’re strong!” He tugs at one of his wrists and whistles when the tentacle doesn’t let him go far.

“Yeah,” Namjoon groans. His heart is beating unbelievably fast, as he barely managed to regain control after letting go for a second.

“They’re not doing anything, though.”

“I’m still holding them.” His voice is strained, sweat beading at his temples and trickling down the side of his face.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispers sweetly, pushing hair out of Namjoon’s face. The tentacle moves with him, only allowing him mobility when it leads to more contact with Namjoon. He nuzzles his face into the crook of his neck and presses wet kisses right under Namjoon’s ear. “Hyung, let them go.”

He can almost hear his tentacles reeling at the attention, vibrating with excitement at the sound of Jungkook’s request. It’s Jungkook! He finally let them get their hands on him, only for their precious Jungkook to ask for a free for all! As if they couldn’t love him more, the tentacles are practically demanding Namjoon release them. How dare he keep them from their Jungkook?

His mind is a mess of voices, between reason, tentacles, and Jungkook’s wet pleading lips all over his skin, he can’t think. He can’t make a rational decision, so he makes the next best one.

“Safeword?” He growls.

“Venom.” Jungkook grins against his neck. They both know Namjoon lost.

He lets go and watches his existence dissolve into a whirlwind of movement.

The tentacles immediately push Jungkook onto his back, pressing him hard into the mattress, limbs spread out as far as possible. The four largest ones have his wrists and ankles securely pinned down, while the others explore and paw at different parts of his body. Namjoon manages to retrieve the latter four, but the larger tentacles refuse to budge.

“Holy shit, Kook. Are you okay?” He asks in a panic, but Jungkook is smiling wide at the ceiling.

“Woah,” he laughs. “Hyung, that was… that was great.”

Namjoon hovers over him, pushes the hair out of his face to kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, all of him. Jungkook lifts his head to meet their lips and they both smile into the kiss.

“You’re actually enjoying this,” Namjoon states, dumbfounded, trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “You… you like it like this.”

“Very much so.” Jungkook seems blissed out, eyes wandering to the tentacles to watch them tighten around his limbs. “The underside is suction-y.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Feels nice.”

A spark goes off in Namjoon’s brain. It could have been Jungkook’s words, the idea of these monstrosities actually being a part of him, that triggered the thought. It could have been plain coincidence. Either way, it’s a safe bet and in these circumstances, he could use a safe bet.

“Here.”

He slides his hands underneath Jungkook’s shirt, rubbing circles with his thumbs on the soft skin of his toned stomach. It makes Jungkook squirm, which Namjoon thinks is ridiculous since his boyfriends has fucking tentacles wrapped around him, but he digresses.

He pushes the shirt up, kissing his way around his navel, up his stomach, and all over his chest. Namjoon kisses and sucks, leaving red marks all over Jungkook before running his tongue flat over his nipple.

“Oh!” Jungkook gasps when Namjoon sucks on the bud.

“Do you like that?”

“Yeah, ‘s nice.”

“And this?”

He stretches his top tentacle to Jungkook’s other nipple and rubs the wet tip over the bud, letting the suction pull and release on the sensitive skin.

“Ah!” Jungkook gasps louder, his back arching towards the touch as Namjoon take the other nipple between his teeth.

“Is that okay?” He asks. He brings the last three tentacles to curve around Jungkook’s sides, sticking to the taut skin there and leaving soft pink marks in their wake.

“Yeah, fuck. Hyung, that feels good,” Jungkook moans, squirming on the bed as the tentacles slide up and down his skin.

His boyfriend was a sight to see, shirt riding up on his soaking chest and the bulge in his pants ever so prominent. Namjoon wants to eat him up, all of him wants to eat Jungkook right up.

He lets another tentacle replace his mouth around Jungkook’s nipple and licks his way down Jungkook’s stomach where a trail of light hair disappears past the hem of his pants. He presses his face against the bulge of his arousal, kissing and licking at the material. He uses his hands to unbutton his fly and push down his pants. He gasps at Jungkook’s wetness staining the front of his boxers, he can smell it too. He presses his tongue against the wet patch and suddenly, he is not the only one interested in Jungkook’s cock.

The four tentacles slither down Jungkook’s torso to meet Namjoon’s tongue pressed against Jungkook’s hardness. A pair poke and prod at the bulge while the other two slide around the elastic band, trying to make their way past it.

Jungkook is breathing heavily, gasping for air with his head lifted to watch what’s about to happen to him.

“Hyung, oh my God,” he pants. “Hyung, hyung oh my God please it’s so much! Hyung, please.”

Jungkook pleads and lets his head fall back against the mattress when Namjoon’s hands grant the rest of him entry. He yanks his underwear down in one hard movement. Jungkook’s cock springs free and lays hard against his stomach, the tip pink and leaking.

A smaller tentacle darts straight for the bead of precum gathering at the slit. It gently tips into the slit and pulls back, spreading the precum all over the tip and down the length of Jungkook’s cock. Namjoon follows the movement with his tongue, running it flat alongside his dick before swallowing him whole.

“Fuck!” Jungkook squeaks. He lifts his head to watch the show and Namjoon catches a glimpse of tears gathering in the corner of his eyes before his boyfriend fall back into the mattress once more.

Two tentacles wrap themselves around the base, pumping along with Namjoon’s mouth. Namjoon takes him as deep as he can, until he feels the silky skin of his tentacles against his lips. He hollows his cheeks to suck Jungkook’s dick hard and well into his throat, and lets go at the tip with a loud, wet pop.

The tentacles pick up twofold, wrapping themselves twice, thrice, and four times around Jungkook until every bit of his cock was stimulated. The smallest tentacle slips its tip into Jungkook’s slit and stays there as they stroke his cock up and down, tentacle slick and precum leaking and pooling all over his stomach with every squelching movement.

Namjoon hovers over his boyfriend and watches him come undone. He pries his mouth open with his own and slips two fingers in. He shivers at the sight of Jungkook sucking on his fingers, drooling around his digits while the two tentacles pumped him relentlessly.

“Ahh, hyung. No, no hyung stop,” he whines around his fingers. “‘S too much. Hyung, gonna come. Please, please stop.” Jungkook cries, tears and drool dripping down the sides of his face.

“Nah baby, you’re too pretty like this, all helpless. I think I’ll let them have their fun.”

A sob breaks through Jungkook’s throat, soaking Namjoon’s fingers even more. He pulls them out and wipes them clean across Jungkook’s cheek. Jungkook tries to catch them into his mouth again, follows them until they are out of reach.

“So needy, baby. Didn’t know you were so needy.”

“Hyung, let me go. Please, let me go. Wanna touch you so bad.”

Jungkook struggles against his tentacle restraints and attempts to sit up. He tries to pull his arms down, bend his knees, but the tentacles are quick to force them flat on the bed again. Namjoon barely tells them to do so.

“No!” He sobs, crying tears onto the sheets again. “No, hyung. Please don’t!”

“Don’t what, baby?” He cooes. “This? You want me to believe you don’t want this?”

Namjoon sits back up, watches as the tentacles pick up the pace, pumping Jungkook’s cock mercilessly, rubbing suckers all over the head, while one dipped in and out of his slit, milking bead after bead of precum out of Jungkook.

“I don’t like it, hyung!” Jungkook tries to twist away, all the while bucking his hips into Namjoon’s hold. “I don’t like it, stop it, hyung! Ah!”

Jungkook eyes roll back. He opens his mouth but barely makes a sound as one last choked sob escapes the bottom of his throat. Jungkook comes hard all over the tentacles, which don’t stop stroking him through his orgasm until his entire body is a shaking, twitching mess. The tentacles gently unwrap themselves from Jungkook’s wilting cock. His entire crotch area is soaked, white come and slick dripping all the way down between his thighs. Namjoon can also feel the hot wetness of Jungkook’s release on the tips of his tentacles. Tentatively, he brings one to his mouth and licks it clean.

“Fuck, hyung,” Jungkook groans, as though he were the one Namjoon licked.

“You taste so good baby,” he smiles, slipping another tentacle into his mouth and sucking it clean.

“Hyung, are you going to let me go now? Please, hyung?”

Namjoon leans over him and loosens his hold, even on the large tentacles, allowing Jungkook to sit up and meet him halfway.

“Such a pretty baby, how can I say no to you?” He whispers, cradling Jungkook’s face and kissing his lips tenderly.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whines, freeing himself from the tentacles and rubbing at his wrists. “Thank you, hyung.”

He lets Namjoon kiss him. He doesn’t pay much attention to the tentacle creeping up his back, only notices it when it’s firmly cupping the back of his head.

“Hyung? What–”

Another tentacle plunges into his mouth, stretching his lips wide around its girth. Jungkook’s muffled protests are interrupted, as he chokes around the tentacle thrust deep down his throat.

Namjoon is relieved to see that he almost acts on reflex, the way he pulls the brakes on the situation. Regaining control is not easy, he exerts himself, like pulling back an especially heavy weight. But there’s no struggle, no battle. He just has to be firm.

The tentacle slips out of Jungkook’s mouth within seconds.

“Baby?” Namjoon puts a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, as he coughs. “What’s your safe word?”

“V-venom,” he heaves.

“Do you need to use it?”

“No, hyung.”

Namjoon doesn’t even have time to react before two of his larger tentacles wrap around Jungkook’s waist in opposite directions. Another four go after his limbs again and they flip him over until Jungkook is on all fours on the bed, ass up and head shoved into the mattress. A medium sized tentacle holds him down by the neck.

Drying come and slick stick between his ass cheeks, some of it dripping down his muscular thighs. Namjoon licks a quick stripe all the way through and relishes in the shudder that quakes Jungkook’s form.

“Fuck, Kookie. You taste so good down here too.”

He spreads his cheeks wide apart with his hands and is about to dive in again when a tentacle appears. It’s one of his thicker ones and Jungkook immediately tenses when it feels it prodding against his hole.

“Hyung? Hyung, please not that. It’s so dirty, hyung. Please, no more.”

On his hands and knees, it’s even harder for Jungkook to resist against the tentacles, at least not without falling flat on his stomach. Staring at Jungkook’s puckered hole, Namjoon would hate to see that happen. Despite the thick tentacle wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist, Namjoon wraps a supporting arm across his abs to hold him still, while his tentacle slithered its way into his boyfriend.

“Ah! Hyung, not that, please! It’s so big, it’s moving so much inside.”

The tentacle plunges in and out of him, stretching out and coating his insides with slick. Between his pink leaking hole and his tear soaked face, Namjoon doesn’t know where to look. Jungkook looks absolutely wrecked and just as exquisite, whining and drooling all over his sheets.

“So whiny,” Namjoon tsks and sticks two fingers back into Jungkook’s mouth. “Suck.”

Jungkook obeys, but instantly starts screaming around Namjoon’s digits when the tentacle deep inside him makes way for a second one.

“Fuck, Kookie. You take it so well. Look at you, taking two. You’re so tight, they barely fit,” Namjoon whispers straight into his ear. He can hear the wet sounds of the tentacles as they ravage his boyfriend’s hole in unison.

The tentacles fuck into him harder and faster. Thick dollops of slick are hanging out of his hole, dripping onto the bed with every harsh thrust. Jungkook doesn’t last long after the third one slips in.

“Please, please stop,” he begs, crying wildly with the side of his face still pressed down against the mattress. “Please, hyung. I don’t want to anymore. Tell them to stop, please, fuck– fuck, ah! Hyung, fuck!”

All three tentacles thrust deep inside, as far as they can, and fuck Jungkook through his second orgasm of the night. Jungkook’s comes all over, adding to the mess of fluids staining the sheets.

“Kookie came untouched, huh?” Namjoon pets his head, trying to calm the sobs still shaking his body. “How’s my baby doing?”

“Hyung, I– I can’t do any more,” he pants, gazing up at Namjoon with bloodshot eyes. “No more, please.”

“Oh, baby.” Namjoon leans over Jungkook’s body and feels him tense again when he hears the sound of the drawer opening.

“Hyung, no.”

“Baby, you know better.”

Namjoon pulls out his cock from his pants and slaps the tip against Jungkook’s wet asscheeks.

“How does that feel baby? Does that feel like hyung is done with you?”

Namjoon brings his palm down against Jungkook’s ass, the slap echoing through the apartment.

“Ah!”

“Answer me.”

“N-no, it doesn’t,” he whimpers.

“Good boy.”

The four unoccupied tentacles stick to Jungkook’s ass cheeks and pull them apart. Namjoon can already see the angry red marks the suction is going to leave on Jungkook’s skin.

“Ow! Hyung, it hurts,” he cries, wrestling against the tentacles by wiggling his ass. “Get them off, hyung it hurts.”

“I’m so sorry baby, let hyung make the pain go away.” He slips the condom on and presses his hard cock against Jungkook’s entrance.

“No. No, hyung, not like that. Please, I said no more…” Jungkook pleads in a broken whisper and tries to scramble away.

This time, Namjoon lets him escape for a few seconds before tightening his hold and dragging his ass back to him.

“Are you using your safeword baby?”

“No, hyung.”

He pushes in and Jungkook screams into the empty apartment.

It’s a tight fit. Jungkook’s hole stretches delicious around Namjoon’s cock, as he slips in all the way down to the hilt.

“Oh fuck, Kookie. You’re so tight, angel.”

“H-hyung,” he hiccups. “Hyung, you’re hurting me.”

“Am I?” He pulls back all the way to the tip and slams back into Jungkook, burying himself deep inside.

“Ah!

“Want me to stop?” He pulls out again and this time, brings Jungkook down on his cock hard.

“N-no!”

“Oh? Want hyung to fuck you hard like this?”

“Y-yes, fuck! Namjoon hyung!”

The slap of skin is loud in the room, as Namjoon bounces Jungkook’s ass against his dick. He fucks into him fast and hard, a vice grip on the younger’s hips alongside the tentacles holding his ass cheeks wide open. Slick continues to drip out of his hole with every one of Namjoon’s thrusts.

Jungkook looks stunning with his back arched at Namjoon’s feet, mouth wide open, being fucked absolutely stupid on Namjoon’s cock. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen and he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.

He sinks his hands into Jungkook’s ass cheeks to let two of the tentacles join Namjoon’s cock inside him, while the other wrapped themselves around Jungkook’s half hard cock.

“Hyung, no please, it's so dirty!” Jungkook shouts at the intrusion and tries to squirm away from Namjoon’s hold.

“Hyung is about to make you dirty, baby. Are you ready? Are you ready for hyung to fill you up?”

His words are winded, barely comprehensible, as he hurries his pace and fucks Jungkook with reckless abandon. His hair falls over his eyes as he makes Jungkook’s entire body slide against the bed sheets with every thrust.

“Fuck,” Namjoon groans. “Fuck baby, I’m gonna come.”

“Hyung, don’t come inside. Please, don’t make me dirty,” Jungkook begs one last time before Namjoon empties himself deep inside him.

Namjoon comes for longer than he ever has. With his cock still deep inside, his tentacles flip Jungkook over on his back and wrap his legs securely around Namjoon’s waist. When the tentacles inside his hole pull out, Namjoon is shocked by the amount of his come that drips out.

“Ah, hyung. So full, so full with you,” Jungkook moans, legs twitching around Namjoon.

“Yeah baby, look at you. Look at your tummy, so full.”

Jungkook whimpers happily, hand running lazily over the bump of his belly.

“But not full enough, huh baby? It’s never full enough for you.”

Jungkook’s cock twitches when he realizes what Namjoon is reaching for across the bed. He hadn’t noticed him take it out. Terror widens his eyes, as he begins to struggle against his tentacles again.

“No, I can’t do more. Namjoon hyung, I really can’t take more please,” Jungkook panics. He leans his head against the mattress, shaking it left and right, chest quaking with fresh sobs, as he feels the ovipositor press against his raw opening.

It’s an easy push. Jungkook is still dripping with come and slick, and the ovipositor slips right in. Jungkook’s legs shake violently, as each gelatin egg settles inside him.

Namjoon watches the bottom of Jungkook’s tummy protrude further and further out with each egg that enters him. He settles an open palm right over the inflated area and feels it bloat as he pushes the eggs inside.

“Oh, f-fuck. J-joon hyung!” He stutters, writhing underneath Namjoon’s touch.

Namjoon pushes the toy further inside again, but immediately stops when Jungkook’s body twitches a little too hard and his eyes roll a little too far back.

He pulls the toy out.

“Kookie, Kookie baby, oh my God,” Namjoon scrambles, touching Jungkook all over. “Are you okay? Oh my God, Kook, say something.”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter open, a watery smile spreading across his lips.

“Wow, hyung,” he sighs. “Blacked out for a second, there. ’m all fucked out.”

Namjoon breathes a sigh of relief, shaking his head at the grabby hands Jungkook is making at him. Exhaustion finally catching up, he falls forward onto the bed and spoons the hell out of his sleepy boyfriend.

“Hmmm, where ‘re they?” Jungkook frowns with his eyes closed, hands patting blindly around him.

“Where’s what?”

“Your… your things, hold on.”

Before Namjoon can stop him, Jungkook is running a finger haphazardly over his slits, coaxing a couple of tentacles back out from their hiding spot.

“Kookie, they’re uh… they’re still kind of wet, babe.”

“Hnn, don’t care… love ‘em. Love you, hyung.”

The tentacles stretch out and wrap themselves snuggly around Jungkook’s waist who, in turn, gently runs his hands over their silky coat.

It’s the happiest Namjoon can ever remember being and it’s definitely high on the list of the most endearing things Jungkook has ever done. He is so serene, so in love and ready to fall into careless sleep when a thought interrupts his newfound bliss.

“Fuck, wait. Kook, the eggs,” he says, shaking Jungkook’s shoulder.

“They dissolve inside, babe.”

Namjoon blinks into the darkness of the room. “Oh. Holy shit, wow. Hold on, how much do those things cost?

“About like… remember when I sold all my PlayStation games last fall?”

“The fuck? Kook, oh my god, are you for real?”

“What? I had to practice. You know, get ready for the real deal,” he snorts.

Namjoon doesn’t even try to take control when a tentacle grabs the ovipositor and launches it across the room.

“Hyung!”

Okay, maybe a little control.