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Setting scene: university, campus grounds. Cliché, of course, a typical beginning for any type of love-sick story where the two protagonists dance around each other on eggshells because they’re too afraid to confess. It includes shared lunches, accidental meetings over mutual friends, passing notes in class and stargazing on the hood of a car before that long-awaited kiss.


It’s sweet, pure and wholesome – the exact opposites of this particular duo, who more or less so wish to rip each other’s throats out.


So yes, the scene is campus grounds. Lots of students heading to class, definitely eager for the beginning of the new semester, chatting and catching up after that marvelous break they just came back from. Giggles, laughter, boring pop soundtracks in the background – you get the idea.


Here’s the thing about private school systems – despite people imagining students that attend private universities as some buttoned up, uniformed prodigies that are well-mannered, they’re really no different from regular students. There are nerds, there are jocks, there are some of the best and some of the worst people you’ll ever meet – basically, the whole Mean Girls package.


They got the uniforms thing right, though. Dress shirts and slacks, vests or jackets, ties, the most typical navy-white combo you could see. And as of this morning, it appears that Kim Taehyung – like the airhead he can be – forgot to bring his tie at all.


Park Jimin is counting down the time to when does this day take a turn for hellish. The Interaction of the Day is yet to happen, especially after that long-awaited break, and he can’t even hear the buzz in his ears over the anxiety. Well, actually, less anxiety and more pure exasperation for the mess he’s dreading to deal with.


That mess usually includes two things–uh, two people actually.


“Taehyung, where is your tie?” Jimin says, even if there was no point in asking. He reaches out to run fingers through his best friend’s hair, a frown on his plump lips. “And do you even have a comb? Your hair is a mess. For god’s sake, the council will give you a strike again.”


“Oh, try me, Jimin,” Taehyung rolls his eyes, adjusting at the collar of his white shirt by opening another button. “You’re a member of the council, so you can mark my detention if I get caught.”


“Ugh, I really need to stop doing that.”


The first person of this mess is Kim Taehyung – your residual, unremarkable artisan prodigy that double majors in music and performance arts, alongside to having a minor in the fine arts. Call him an overachiever, if you will–which is exactly what he is, as the university commonly likes to refer to him as–though Taehyung likes to go by one simple, cliché, self-proclaimed decree – rules are meant to be broken.


Whether that includes missing parts of your uniform (or modifying it by tailoring your pants to fit your rather marvelous buttocks, which the council deemed as inappropriate and distracting), or getting fucked in the school library until the janitor catches you, Taehyung had his fair share of misfit acts.


And he always–let me repeat, always–gets away with it. His unmistakable skill with piano and ability to recite Shakespeare seem to make him immune to being expelled by the school, as his talents are one of a kind. And even if the student body likes to make it seem like they’re troubled by him, they’re more so jealous.


“You’re basically my partner in crime, Chim,” Taehyung grins, all pretty teeth and pink lips and Jimin low-key wants to punch him in the face and also kiss him (because fuck, he’s so pretty – but no homo, though, since they’re besties and all). “Ah, what’d I do without you?”


“You’d be expelled,” Jimin deadpans, even if both of them know that to not be true. “But at least try once in a while.”


“I never need to,” Taehyung responds to the request with a cheeky smile and Jimin already knows there is no use in convincing him. It never worked before, anyways.


Call that attitude of his cocky, call it arrogant or whatever you will – for most people it goes by confidence. And Jimin, way past the point of no return with his best friend, just needs to stick to his prefect status in order to keep Taehyung out of trouble if it ever calls for it. 


Which, now that he thinks about it, doesn’t sound like the best idea. But hey, when was anything involving Kim Taehyung a good one?


“I’m going to get in serious trouble for you one day,” Jimin sighs, though he doesn’t sound regretful.


“I’ll bail you out, don’t worry,” Taehyung says, throwing the student briefcase over his shoulder as means to carry it, because hell, it’s too appropriate for him to carry it normally. “I seem to be good at that as well.”


At the time that they’re heading to class in chatter and shared laughs, nothing appears to be out of the ordinary. Of course, more students are missing parts of their uniforms or looking drowsy than per usual, but that is to be blamed on this being Monday morning. And also on last night’s party that Ahn Hyojin hosted, but that is a minor detail.


Despite the casual greetings thrown their way or somewhat sly remarks (when Taehyung’s attendance to class is questioned in a rather snarky tone), Jimin does feel like this might be a nice day ahead of them, full of classes and club activities and whatever else students attending private universities do.


Jimin thought so until it happened. It being the fucking Interaction of the Day.


“Oh, Kim. How nice of you to finally step down from your high horse and decide to attend classes. Maybe it’s time for your head to get filled with something more than just air.”


Fuck my life, Jimin inwardly thinks as he sets his eyes on a group of three people just to the left of them, sitting by a many of the lunch tables set outside on campus after all the snow has melted off. The two sitting on the table are just bystanders for this debacle, but the one that is sitting on the bench too fucking properly is the fucking problem.


Because in any other case, that casual remark is just one of the many alike that Taehyung hears on the daily, but that voice and that damn tone are setting him off and Jimin just honestly wants to dig himself three feet under.


“I think it’s more concerning that you’ve taken notice of my absence,” Taehyung says, stopping in his tracks to throw an indifferent glance to the other three. His lips proceed to pull into a sly smirk, “Missed me, Jeon?”


And the second person of the aforementioned mess is Jeon Jeongguk, so cleverly dubbed the Golden Boy by the student body, because it’s fucking annoying that he’s so good in everything that he does. Most people don’t even know his majors (cough, computer science and business administration, cough) because next to dancing, sports, taekwondo and another hundred hobbies, he just excels at everything.


But unlike Taehyung, Jeongguk is a proper boy – just like now, with his pressed slacks that fit his legs a little too nicely, shirt tucked in over his toned chest, jacket slung over broad shoulders and red tie that just glimmers with the university crest in pride.


He sits up from the bench, approaches them and Jimin is almost begging Jeongguk with his eyes not to start anything, but it’s almost like he’s not even in the younger’s peripheral vision.


“You wish, Kim,” Jeongguk responds, hands in the pockets of his too nicely fitted pants and of course they refer to each other by surnames, who the fuck uses first names with their school enemies, hello? That’s reserved for the eventual sex scenes and reconciliation. “The university’s reputation just plummets when you come along. As evident by your lack of manners. Forgot your tie at home?”


Jeongguk’s two friends (Jung Yoonoh and Lee Seokmin who, in their defense, are pretty okay guys from what Jimin’s observed) are not the only people that have their eyes set on Jeongguk and Taehyung, because in such a proper university, rarely are things fights or even interesting. This is the daily dose of drama that they all need.


Jimin just wishes that all of those girls that are whispering in glee and pulling out their phones could spend one day in his shoes, because at least they don’t have to listen to Taehyung ramble about Jeongguk’s insults the rest of the fucking day.


“Red was never my color,” Taehyung says, which is quite fucking ironic since his damn hair is red. “No need to be jealous just because you weren’t the one to pull it off of me last night. But right, parties aren’t your scene. Right, baby boy?”


And when Jeongguk’s cheeks actually turn red from that (in either frustration or embarrassment, it’s hard to tell at this point), Jimin knows the bait has been thrown and then bit, which means he’s to suffer another few minutes of this hell. Someone save him, please.


“Maybe a more humble university is what you need, Kim,” Jeongguk says after clearing his throat, pretending to cough. No one bought it, but they’re far too immersed to point it out. “It’d certainly match your reputation more.”


“My abilities, unlike yours, are anything but humble, Jeon,” Taehyung said, a menacingly sweet smile that erupts whispers in the crowd. “But class is about to start and you wouldn’t want to be late because of me, would you? You’re a good boy.”


Moving forward, Taehyung’s hand comes up to rest on Jeongguk’s shoulder and though everyone goes quiet in await of Jeongguk’s outburst, the younger doesn’t have time to process it before Taehyung is leaning to the side and pressing his lips to Jeongguk’s ear, “And good boys finish last, don’t they?”


Walking past with triumph, Taehyung only smiles cockily towards the crowd that’s gotten only louder with curiosity from the unheard words that made Jeongguk’s cheeks flush. Jimin sighs to himself, then follows his best friend – but not before he catches Jeongguk watch Taehyung walk away, eyes boring to the back of his head and then sliding further down and down.


Scoffing with disbelief at how infatuated those two are with each other, he runs after Taehyung. “What did you tell him?” He asks, opting not to out Jeongguk about checking the redhead out. If Taehyung knew, there wouldn’t be an end to their push and pull games.


“The truth,” Taehyung answers with a shrug, though his aura of confidence suggests otherwise. He finished off strong, which is important, and Jimin just hopes it means he won’t have to listen to Taehyung rant about it later. Lord knows Jeongguk pushes all of Taehyung’s buttons, leaving Jimin to pick up the senseless pieces of frustration later.


“We have music theory first, so we shouldn’t be late,” Jimin then says, avoiding the topic. He’d rather not give Taehyung the satisfaction of asking him about Jeongguk, thank you very much. “Mrs. Ahn is very particular about us coming at least ten minutes early.”


Taehyung huffs a laugh at that, as if the idea is so ridiculous he barely believes Jimin told him. “I wasn’t intending on going, anyways,” he says and earns a scoff of disbelief from his best friend. “Why are you giving me that look? You know she’s going to bring up Vivaldi’s Four Seasons again and I’m over it. She never listens when I tell her a whole La Stravaganza exists. Music theory my ass, she’s just an elitist.”


Jimin pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. He can’t blame Taehyung on that (Mrs. Ahn is even worse than the people who say they love anime and have only ever seen Naruto, she’s that bad at her job), but the woman is still their professor. Something Taehyung should respect, but doesn’t because he apparently believes ‘hierarchies are the biggest divide of society’ or something like that.


Who knows if he really believes that, or is it faux philosophy to excuse his wrongdoings? Taehyung works a way around everything.


“Then what are you going to do during first period?” Jimin fires back, eyes narrowed in a glare. Mrs. Ahn is going to give him hell for not dragging Taehyung to class, as every other time this happened. “Go to the court and spy on Jeongguk working out?”


Taehyung makes an expression of distaste, clicking his tongue. “He apparently works out a lot, but I can bet every penny I have he’s got nothing under that horrid uniform,” he mutters dryly and Jimin refrains from pointing out Jeongguk doesn’t only workout, but does taekwondo, dance and sports (like the fucking overachiever he is), just for the sake of sparing Taehyung any pride left.


“So I take it that you won’t?” Jimin prompts, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, I should’ve known. Yoongi-hyung?”


Taehyung, thankfully throwing the idea of his rival away, nods with a cheeky grin. “Got challenged to a freestyle by a freshman. Well, no wonder when people know him as Gloss, for fuck’s sake,” he says, a small laugh escaping him. “Sounds more interesting than listening to Mrs. Ahn ranting senselessly, don’t you think?”


Jimin takes another deep breath, lord fucking help him. “I really need to tell hyung to stop informing you of every activity you can join him on. Because you don’t miss a beat,” he says. “Last time I caught the cheerleading team trying to coerce you two into trying their uniforms.”


“C’mon, you would love to see him in it,” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, smirking in that sort of way that makes Jimin both embarrassed and absolutely done with his entire life.


“What I would love to see the both of you in is class,” he dodges, sharpening his tone. “The semester just started, can’t you put a little effort in? Show up to class once in a while, not just drop your homework on the desk and leave to take photographs in the damn woods.”


“It has a nice ambiance,” Taehyung shrugs, nudging the side of his head with two fingers. “Listen, I’m still trashed from last night’s party and I ran into Jeon first thing in the morning. I’d rather avoid his face for the rest of the day.”


Like I would believe that, Jimin thinks and resists to roll his eyes to that one. “Ugh, the council will give me hell for this,” he groans, already prepared to deal with the entirety of this debacle. He’ll get a complaint from the professors, then Namjoon will talk his ear off on a council meeting, then it goes back around again.


“I’ll tell Joonie-hyung not to yell at you too much,” Taehyung says, they stop in front of the main building and are about to part ways. As soon as he bites his lip in that habitual way of his, Jimin just knows he’s about to ask for a favor. “And while we’re on it… Can you get me some info on that new transfer student? He’s pretty hot.”


Jimin rolls his eyes, but he can’t even blame him – transfer being a loose term, as Jimin’s pretty sure the guy changed universities to continue his education or something like that – but he is hot. Tall, dark-haired and proper (just Taehyung’s type, even if the redhead wouldn’t admit it because it sounds too similar to Jeongguk’s descriptor).


And as much as he doesn’t want to indulge Taehyung, he can never help it in the end. Might as well give up before he gets the puppy eyes. “Fine, I’ll get some from the council. And see what I can get out of Seokjin-hyung,” he says. Seokjin is like a fucking informant on campus, nothing goes by without passing him first. And even if they’re close friends, he never shares info without a price.


“Ugh, you’re the best. I knew I kept you around for a reason,” Taehyung grins, one hand holding the briefcase over his shoulder this entire time, while the other slips to Jimin’s cheek and promptly brushes hair behind his ear as he dips down and kisses him, open-mouthed and everything.


Jimin makes a muffled noise of surprise when Taehyung’s tongue slips over his bottom lip, fisting the front of his shirt and pulling him closer for a minute more, tongues intertwining and feeling Taehyung grin as he returns the gesture. This happened one too many times, he’d forgotten to react rationally right away.


“F–Fucking hell,” Jimin rasps when he pulls away, pushing Taehyung back at the same time. The redhead grins, considering it a feat he made the valedictorian prefect, Park Jimin himself, outward curse from his kissing skill. “People are going to think we’re actually dating.”


“Half-true. Maybe they’d stop considering when you stop kissing me back,” Taehyung laughs, then escapes a hit to the arm by dodging under and making his way on the other side of campus. “See you later, babe! Text me the info!”


Jimin shakes his head, but he waves back and looks at the building in front of him. Students passing by are throwing him odd looks, but they should be used to Taehyung’s shenanigans at this point, considering how often they talk about him and like to keep up.


Jeongguk and his group of friends pass by and Jimin takes a brief glance, a thought coming to mind. Jeongguk hangs out with “rebels” or those types that are much similar to Taehyung–in their way of not giving a single fuck–but he himself is proper. He attacks Taehyung for the same qualities his friends have, but only Taehyung bothers him.


They should just make their damn amends, Jimin thinks to himself with a sigh, his feet too heavy as he goes up the stairs in the main building, dreading his day ahead. Jesus take the wheel.



Class is boring, but not that Jeongguk would admit it out loud. He’s learned to love the satisfaction of getting his work done and complimented, getting top grades and just doing as much as he can, because he wants to prove himself. On the other hand, he hates classrooms. Too many people, little interesting ones.


English class is one of those he wished he’d dropped, but lord knows his parents would have his head if he did. Sitting through lectures that don’t interest him are a sacrifice he has to make, and the majority of his friends being in the same class making is what makes it much more bearable.


Well, sometimes.


“Yo, Jeon,” says Ahn Heeyeon, head cheerleader, vice-president of the council and the human embodiment of perfectionist. She flops down on the chair next to Jeongguk’s, slings an arm around his shoulders and grins mischievously. “Heard you got up to it with Tae earlier, yeah?”


And though her quirks and tendencies are similar to Jeongguk’s, they share a (dis)interest – Kim Taehyung himself. She’s good friends with him–or, well, her girlfriend is–so she likes to bring up their arguments for teasing sakes.


Got up to it makes it sound like they made out in the middle of campus,” Seokmin, sitting across Jeongguk with his arms folded and leaning against the wall, says, keeping back a laugh to attempt the glare his friend would give him. “It’s actually surprising it didn’t happen yet.”


“Ugh, don’t even put that idea in my head, please,” Jeongguk says, making an expression of disgust. Heeyeon rolls her eyes, pinching Jeongguk on the shoulder and making him yelp. “Don’t lie. I don’t care if you two are enemies or whatever, you can’t deny Taehyung’s gorgeous,” she says, almost scolding him.


Jeongguk tongues the side of his cheek, eyebrows knit together. I mean, sure, Kim Taehyung may be the most beautiful human in existence, whatever, it doesn’t overpower his foul attitude. Though Jeongguk would deny to his grave that he sometimes stares at him during arguments and doesn’t even hear the insults. It happened once or twice (or ten plus, but he would never admit to it).


“True,” Minghao – another friend of Jeongguk’s, an abomination that likes to tease him endlessly – agrees with Heeyeon, a thoughtful expression on his face. “He’s one of those types that you just take one look at him and go ‘wow, I would love to screw his brains out,’ y’know?”


Even if Jeongguk makes a mortified expression of this being spoken of so lightly, Heeyeon just nods with agreement. “God, if that ain’t true,” she says, wholeheartedly. “I wish I fucked him at least once before I went exclusive.”


Jeongguk splutters, he turns to look at her with a baffled look and causes her arm to slip from his shoulders. “You what?” He says, formalities thrown out the window, because as far as he knows she’s as gay as a fucking maypole.


Heeyeon frowns with confusion, more so from the sudden movement than the actual question. “You heard me. I wish I got him into bed at least once. Could’ve bent him over and fucked him with biggest strap-on that I have, he’d probably look real pretty taking a big dick. Or at least that’s what I heard he likes,” she says with a shrug, nonchalant to the core. She proceeds to sigh wishfully. “Hyojin-eonni never lets me take control, anyway. Would’ve been a nice change.”


“Oversharing your sex-life again, noona,” Seokmin reminds her with feigned disgust, but is more so amused by Jeongguk’s reaction to her words, a blush from the tips of his ears to the highs of his cheekbones. A contrast to his jet black hair.


That’s what he likes, it rings back to him. Jeongguk gulps, not wanting to indulge the thought because he heard rumors about it too. It’s not like he could avoid them, okay? Some say Taehyung’s actually a fucking sub in the bedroom (which came as a surprise to Jeongguk because he’s dominant in personality, but not like he would ever imagine Taehyung as a submissive, no way) and some call him a “pillow prince.”


Pillow prince. As in, he grips and cries into pillows as he gets plowed into the bed. Also unrealistic (and definitely not arousing) from Jeongguk’s image of Taehyung. Which means the last rumor about him – the rumor being that Kim Taehyung is actually a fucking size queen – probably isn’t true either.


Jeongguk bites his lip as he thinks about it, his friends’ chattering mute to his ears. If Taehyung really does like big cock as they so say, it would really be a slap in the face (and not in the sexual way, of course not) for Jeongguk to actually have just what he wishes for. Though it’s not useful information when he can’t use it against him.


“Hello, Earth to Jeon?” Minghao eventually calls and Jeongguk snaps from his thoughts, looking at everyone with a look of confusion. Seokmin tilts his head, finding it odd that he spaced out like that. “We just said you should get laid and you didn’t even bat an eyelash,” he points out.


Jeongguk takes a minute to process those words, at which he outwardly groans. “C’mon, the semester just started, I don’t have the time to fool around,” he says, hoping they would drop this subject. It’s been brought up before, one too many times.


“Gguk, everyone’s starting to think you live in that fucking uniform. It’s like you don’t have any other clothes, because you don’t bother socializing out of school and don’t attend a single party,” Minghao points out and Jeongguk cringes because that is true (he can’t deny it, even), but it’s not like he feels like he’s missing out.


They’re always at school or at the dorms, and he has a lot of work to do. Parties aren’t his scene, as Taehyung so stated. “It doesn’t matter what they think, I’m busy,” Jeongguk says, earning a collective sigh of exasperation from his friends.


It’s not even that he’s busy or that he doesn’t enjoy sex (there are certain times he just fucking needs sex, oh my god), but he’d rather not go through the trouble of finding someone that’s not only okay with his size, but wouldn’t spread a word of it around campus. That’s why he hooked up with only, like, one or two people from university – the rest were just in sleazy bathrooms of random bars.


“Didn’t Yejun hit on you recently?” Heeyeon suddenly asks, recalling a certain event back in front of the liberal arts building.


Jeongguk tongues his cheek again, then nods with hesitance. “Yeah, he’s clearly, um–into me,” he mutters, cringing upon the wording he used.


Minghao thinks about that, sharing a look with Seokmin. “I mean, we all know the guy’s a huge gossip and everything, but I heard he’s bomb in bed. Takes it really well when he bottoms,” he eventually says, an encouragement that Jeongguk didn’t expect nor warrant.


Gossip. Like I need one of those, Jeongguk thinks. “Like I said, I’m busy,” he further reminds them. “I don’t particularly crave any of that right now.”


Seokmin rolls his eyes, just as the school bell rings. “Seriously, Gguk, the only tension you get is from your arguments with Taehyung. And he never gets heated during them because he, unlike you, gets some action to cool off,” he says, a minute prior to their professor entering the classroom.


Jeongguk bites his tongue, refusing to reply to that. I only have tension with Kim? Yeah right, he thinks absently.



  • chat: jiminnie ♡♡


yo whore
i got you the info you wanted


did i mention that you’re my favorite
bc you totally are
what’s his name?


park hyungsik
born in 91, transferred here for his master’s
it’s for biomedicine, i believe
anyways, he’s single
and bisexual, from what jin’s told me


ugh, that’s so hot. thank you @ gay gods
anything about his size??


jfc tae
but yeah
one girl from economics said he’s at least 7 inches
once again, info from jin
idk how the hell he found that out so quickly


the chick probably owes him or smth
but anyways
seven, you say??
hm, i guess that’s not too bad. should i go for it?


your size kink is insatiable
you realize you’ll never find a perfect man like this, right??
but yeah, you should totally smash
guy’s hella hot


listen, seven is the minimum
can’t deal with less, so i hope jin’s source ain’t wrong
i’ll go for it
can you get me his number??


i tell you, you’ll never find the perfect dick, tae
those just don’t exist
and aren’t attached to handsome, tall and decent guys
but give me a second


you never know, jiminnie
you never know


[number attached]
but wow, imagine if your perfect dick is just on the wrong person
omg, imagine if it were on jeongguk LMAO


ugh, don’t ruin my mood like that
anyways, thanks for the ##
gonna suck his dick later


have fun


you too ♡♡



“So, what’re you gonna do if the kid drops out because you told him ‘Like your parents, my heart hurts whenever I see you?’” Taehyung prompts with a raised eyebrow, watching Yoongi load up his tattoo gun with more ink.


“Should’ve known better than to provoke me in the first place,” Yoongi replies with a shrug, shaking the hair out of his eyes and gesturing to Taehyung to sit up on the rogue leather chair he’d thrown his entire body across. The redhead rolls his eyes at the request, but complies before he gets popped on the back of the head with a bottle of black ink.


Taehyung sighs under his breath, lifting his arm to expose the side of his chest. There is an outline of a tattoo right under his peck, leaning more towards the right and almost hiding if he were drop his arm back down. Yoongi comes closer whilst still seated in his rolling chair, the tip of his shoe kicking Taehyung’s shin.


“Keep still,” he instructs when the younger curses under his breath, but doesn’t move an inch. It gives him enough leverage to lean forward and press the tip of his gun to the skin. “Wouldn’t wanna fuck up a silver spoon tattoo.”


Taehyung rolls his eyes again, but it’s all goodheartedly. Yoongi’s room is a safe haven, despite the occasional mess, discarded instant noodles packages and finished cigarette buds on different sorts of furniture. He’s a genius outcast as much as Taehyung is, almost serving like a mentor in most areas of his student life.


Not to mention, Yoongi does killer tattoos. Despite it being against their university’s code of conduct.


“And aren’t the rest of us silver spoons?” Yoongi then says, outlining the arrow right under the handwritten word in Hangul. “We’re storks, compared to you. Aren’t you more of a crow-tit?”


Taehyung huffs another laugh, then shakes his head. He shudders a little from the air on his exposed skin, having stayed shirtless for several hours now. And after numerous tattoos, he is yet to get used to the feeling of a gun prickling ink on him – it isn’t really bothersome, but… well, his kinks show he comes to eventually love pain.


“My upbringing may be that of a crow-tit, but my abilities exceed those of a stork,” he answers, resists shrugging so Yoongi doesn’t kick his shin again. “I get what I want despite it, so might as well mock it.”


Yoongi hums, he doesn’t even comment on the idea. Taehyung observes how messy his black hair is, the dangling moon earrings grazing the ridge between his neck and shoulder – and his tank top is barely hanging on him as it is, exposing two sleeves of tattoos. And what’s with the lace choker? The more time passes, the more Yoongi looks like a witch.


“By the way,” drawls the older, placing one glove-covered palm across Taehyung’s pectoral to stop him from moving. “Is that why you’re caught up with Jeongguk? Cause he’s a stork?”


Sure, Jeongguk may come from a wealthy family, probably had most of his life preplanned and thought out, but that’s not it at all. That sort of subject doesn’t even come up often in their petty arguments, actually.


“I don’t like conformists,” the redhead eventually answer, biting his lower lip when the tip of Yoongi’s tattoo gun grazes the skin covering his rib. He’s had tattoos in worse places – the X on his ankle can attest to that. “Why judge someone on their actions when yours aren’t even your own? He follows the rules so much he doesn’t have his own identity.”


It may have sounded harsh, but it’s what he feels. And putting his disdain for “conformists” aside, it’s also on the fact that fighting with Jeongguk – for whatever ridiculous, unneeded and certainly amusing reason it is – helps Taehyung take the edge off (not sexually, of course, who even has sexual tension with their rival, hello?).


And perhaps, even if he wouldn’t admit it himself, it’s nice to see the golden boy Jeon Jeongguk drop his façade just to throw a snarky response his way (and it’s definitely not because he looks kinda, sort of, maybe, most certainly, absolutely smoking hot when his face pulls into a frown, no way).


“Jimin’s a conformist too,” Yoongi then says, chewing his gum rather loudly once the buzzing of his gun stops and he pulls back. He looks over the tattoo with minimum satisfaction, but it’s a small piece as it is. And it looks good on Taehyung, like most of his other tattoos do. “And you get along fine.”


Taehyung stays still, his shoulder is cramping from his arm having stayed up for so long. He should blame it on Yoongi for not wanting to tattoo on someone laying down. “Jiminnie doesn’t have to be a conformist, he just likes following rules,” he responds, flinching when the sudden press of the cold petroleum jelly grazes his side.


“That’s the definition of a conformist, Tae,” Yoongi reminds him, cocking an eyebrow in question.


Taehyung clicks his tongue at that. “Jeon follows his family’s rules, instead of being himself. He isn’t a conformist by will, like Jimin is,” he manages to explain, tongue almost catching between his teeth. “He probably doesn’t even know what he really wants.”


Yoongi hums again, taping bandages across Taehyung’s new tattoo. He makes sure it’s not thick enough so it can be seen through the uniform, but he’s pretty sure the redhead wouldn’t even mind that. “That’s the stereotypical second son of rich family trying to live up to his brother’s standards back-story,” he comments. “You two could understand each other well, if it weren’t for the sexual tension.”


“We–we don’t have sexual tension–ow!” Taehyung attempts to deny, but yelps when Yoongi pinches his side not to move erratically before he finishes taping everything in place. Taehyung pouts, grumbling under his breath, “We just dislike each other.”


“Yeah, sure. That’s what I thought when I used to argue with Hoseok and four months later, we ended up fucking. You’re just in denial.”


Taehyung splutters, finally putting his arm down when Yoongi taps him over the elbow, the relief overcoming his muscles as evident as the flush across his cheeks. “That’s different. Hoseok-hyung’s a jock,” he attempts to remind him, dodging the denial accusation. “And you’re like… a–a gothic witch or something.”


Yoongi huffs a laugh, giving him an questioning, amused expression. “Are we in Mean Girls now?” He prompts, rolling back on his chair and grabbing Taehyung’s discarded uniform shirt from the other chair. He proceeds to throw it in the redhead’s face, successfully silencing him. “You’re in the opposite ends of the social circle, so what?”


Taehyung refuses to admit that he’s wrong, removing the shirt to show a dissatisfied face. Yoongi rolls his eyes again. “Plus, just ‘cause Jeongguk stopped playing in the football team last year so he can focus on his studies doesn’t mean he isn’t a jock anymore,” he added. “There’s nothing more jock than having been an honorary member to every sports team in university and sometimes working out shirtless on the courtyards.”


The redhead wouldn’t really admit to himself that Jeongguk being athletic is sort of an attractive trait. Right. Who even finds nicely built, tall, toned guys that look like they could fuck you standing up attractive? Certainly not Taehyung (hence the muscle kink, obviously.)


“Yeah, nothing is more jock than refusing to drink beer or not going to any of the frat parties,” Taehyung further says, inspecting his nails with feigned indifference. His black nail polish is starting to chip, ugh. “And isn’t he a member of the frat, anyways? Why refuse an invitation?”


Yoongi puts away his equipment, pushing a spill of paper sketches across the table to grab more bubblegum. “Not everyone’s a party-animal. You aren’t either,” he points out, popping one gum into his mouth and then throwing his packet at Taehyung. “What’d you go to Heeyeon’s party for? Convenience?”


Listen,” Taehyung stresses, as if his entire reputation depends on it. “There’s this really hot transfer this year and I thought I’d see him at the party, but no luck. Jimin got me his number, so I hope Seokjin-hyung’s info on his size is correct, because whew. Last time I asked him, I ended up with a four-incher and concussion from him pushing me into the library bookcase and an encyclopedia falling on my damn head.”


Yoongi can’t even help but laugh at the image alone, lord, it almost brings a tear to his eye. “That, my dear friend, is what we call karma,” he drawls with a lazy grin, leaning back into his chair and throwing his arm over the backrest. “You told him the wrong info on who from the theater club will show up at Mark’s party and he ended up humiliated because he sold that information to someone else and it turned out to be wrong.”


“Hey, it’s not like I planned for Minho to ditch the party when he got offered a fucking threesome or something. Priorities shift under such circumstances.”


“Considering it tainted hyung’s reputation, I’m surprised he went so lax on you,” Yoongi says with a pointed tone, but then fakes a sigh. “But oh, how silly of me, a four-incher must be torture for you. Our poor, little, baby size queen.”


Taehyung shrugs nonchalantly, blowing a bubble from his gum and popping it with his finger. “I just find sex with bigger guys more enjoyable,” he states, clear as day, as if he declared he’ll have a salad for lunch, not the fact that he really likes big dicks. No big deal. “This transfer is rumored to be at seven, so it’s on the line.”


Yoongi looks thoughtful for a moment, as if he’s debating on disclosing a particular piece of knowledge he has, but doesn’t know if he should. With the way he chews his bottom lip between speaking, Taehyung just knows who is it about before his hyung even says anything.


“So, y’know that Jeongguk’s bi, right?” Yoongi prompts, trying to act casual. There is no denying, however, how his lips are tugging into a smile of amusement.


Taehyung raises an eyebrow, finally getting to buttoning his shirt. “How is that relevant?” He responds, careful about not stepping into some sort of trap.


Yoongi rolls his eyes at the fact he attempted to dodge the topic of his rival, once again. “Well, he’s clearly into guys because he’s into you, but–” He speaks, not giving the redhead time to interject over that statement. “–he likes girls too. And I know someone from my jazz studies class who tried to hook up with him last year.”


Oh. Now, Taehyung is definitely interested – not for the fact that Jeongguk’s dating history is any of his concern, of course not, but the prospect of having something new to reference in their arguments sounds fun. It’s always been a delight to watch the golden boy’s face fall and turn flush when referenced to sex (though, as campus rumors have it, he isn’t as much of a squirming virgin as he appears to be).


“What do you mean tried?” He then realizes the way Yoongi’s worded it – and the older male, since he never shares gossip usually, tends to have solid information (one which he refuses to give to Seokjin, much to the elder’s dismay). An image is coming to Taehyung’s mind, he can’t help the grin that cracks on his lips. “What, was his dick too small?”


At this point, Yoongi can’t help but grin. Taehyung might’ve interpreted it as a reaction to his eagerness, but Yoongi looks amused by his apparent cluelessness. He always makes the expression when he has something up on Taehyung, making the redhead queasy.


Because Taehyung is already thinking up of insults in his head, when Yoongi shrugs and looks to the side. “Actually–” He drawls, letting the word hang in the air and the split second his eyes meet Taehyung’s again, he almost laughs, “–turns out he was actually too big.”


As dramatic as it may be, it feels like he heard it in slow motion. Taehyung – as a fucking size queen himself, god bless – wouldn’t even dare to think that Jeon Jeongguk, the forsaken abomination surely put on Earth just to torture him, his rival, arch nemesis if you prefer more cartoonish titles, the guy who gets in his face every day and spouts some insults that have become to mean nothing–


There is no way, in the pits of hell, that he actually has a big dick. Nah ah.


“Y–You’re kidding right?” Taehyung laughs, as if that will make it less true, he’s hoping Yoongi will burst with a cackle and tease him how he well for that, but that fucking gothic witch just shrugs again. He pops another bubblegum, looking rather indifferent.


“She wouldn’t lie, I know that for sure. Promised him to keep it a secret, cause he doesn’t want a rumor spreading about it or something – so play nice, Taehyung, don’t let this spill,” he says, but notices the redhead’s expression of disbelief. “But looks like you don’t believe me anyways.”


“Why would I?” Taehyung fires back, arms crossed to where the buttons are only done halfway up his shirt. “Maybe she just hasn’t seen bigger dicks, or something.”


Yoongi sighs, as if he’s dealing with a stubborn child. “She said she could barely wrap her hand around him, that’s how thick he is. And they couldn’t even have sex because she was afraid it would rearrange her organs or something,” he says. “So, you may not believe me now, but you sure will in a few months – once you actually get down on your dirty knees and he whips it out in front of your face in the student council bathroom.”


Descriptive insults surely are a very envious part of Yoongi, but it doesn’t feel so nice when it’s directed at you. Taehyung doesn’t even want to think about the fact, about the scenario of him lowering on the ground and looking up to see Jeongguk’s definitely not handsome face all flushed, hair messy, lips split-slicken as he undoes his belt and–


Wait, no, no. Bad Taehyung, bad. He scolds his own head for making such things up. He doesn’t even believe a word of this story about Jeon Jeongguk – of all people in this damn university – being fucking hung. No fucking way. Unless, of course, he confirms it with his own two eyes. But not like that is likely to happen.


“Yeah, whatever,” he attempts to dismiss it, hiding his expression by turning his head away. He tries not to think about it too much. “What I know for sure is that I’m getting dicked down by that transfer next weekend, I couldn’t care less about Jeon right now.”


Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him, skeptical. “Oh, really now?” He says and though the tone is teasing, mocking, he’s just as exasperated by Taehyung’s denial. Oh well, karma will bite you in the ass one way or another.


“Yeah,” Taehyung says, grinning lazily towards his hyung. “I have my ways.”



Photography class is one of the few Jeongguk chose outside of his major and if you ask him, it’s a huge stress reliever, despite the fact that it ensures extra work. Between all the factual, cold science, he’s still more of an artist – not that people would know of that particular part of him, since he doesn’t have much opportunity to show it.


And photography is a passion of his, but wow, wouldn’t class be so much more bearable if Kim Taehyung wasn’t also attending it? Because it’s eight in the morning, he’s listening to Minghao talking his ear off about how disgusting weed-flavored condoms taste (why do those even fucking exist, but moving on–), when a familiar head of red and sight of an untidy uniform come into view.


No tie, once again. The shirt is pressed, at least, though the slacks are still vastly inappropriate – or perhaps that is to blame on Taehyung possessing a quite luscious behind, but let’s not even go there – and he makes his way to the usual spot in the back of the classroom, like the delinquent he is.


Taehyung throws a glance towards the windows, where Jeongguk always sits like some fucking anime protagonist or whatever, and not having realized that he’s been staring, the younger is caught in the act – Taehyung’s face splits into a grin, dark eyebrow raised.


“Missed me, Jeon?” He calls across the classroom, earning everyone’s attention. Jeongguk can already hear the whispers, great. “Don’t drool too much while staring, baby boy.”


Jeongguk scoffs, feeling his cheeks heat up a little. That fucking nickname bugs him. “I’m just surprised to see you in class, Kim,” he responds, trying to act smooth. They always garner too much of an audience. “And why would I stare? I’d rather avoid your annoying mug, thanks.”


The most bothersome thing has always been the fact that Taehyung simply doesn’t get affected by anything Jeongguk says. Maybe it’s part of the reason Jeongguk keeps picking up arguments with him, because he wants nothing more than see Taehyung’s face twist in humiliation, but it feels like an impossible task at this point. Though, he’s always up for a challenge.


The redhead just pretends to pout, bottom lip jutting out. “Ah, how cruel, babe,” he drawls, mockingly. “And here I thought you had a hunch for my pretty face. Isn’t your arguing a cry for attention?”


The class is erupt with chuckles that they try to hide under their breaths or muffle in the sleeves of their uniform jackets, but the collective amusement just frustrates Jeongguk beyond belief. A friend of Taehyung’s nudges the redhead in the side, moving his attention from Jeongguk.


“Just drop it, Tae. The prof is gonna be here in a minute,” he says with a sigh, adjusting his cardigan as if he were some auntie that watched her nephew act out in kindergarten. From Jeongguk’s recollection – even if he deems everyone who hangs around Taehyung’s a delinquent, though this guy dresses more like a preppy hippie than anything – this would Kim Myungsoo, a known photographer at their university.


He acts as Taehyung’s damage control when none of his other friends are around and this time, he’s Jeongguk’s saving grace from having to humiliate himself further. Fucking great.


“Why even bother responding, Gguk? You know he’s gonna win every time,” Minghao reminds him quietly from the seat right beside, chuckling into his hand like the supportive friend that he is. Jeongguk gets it – his and Taehyung’s arguments are comical at this point, have succumbed to playground insults – but he can’t step down. That would be admitting defeat.


“We’ll see about that,” Jeongguk mutters, unzipping the bag sitting in his lap and taking out his book like the proper student he is, ignoring Minghao laughing under the sound of the their professor opening the door and entering the classroom.


Mr. Park is a short, teddy-bear professor with a sparse mustache, half moon glasses and hones great affection for all things of nature. Universally, he’s one of the best people at that particular campus and far more than anything, he simply adores artistic discussions.


“Class, today we’ll be talking about–” Mr. Park begins, but stops as soon as his gaze drops on the back of the room. With a sigh, he adjusts his glasses and places his books down on the professor’s desk. “Aish. Kim Taehyung.”


Of-fucking-course. It wouldn’t be a class without him without being called out for inappropriate conduct first, Jeongguk thinks as the classroom falls silent. Daring to glance over his shoulder, he spots Taehyung pulling a pout again, his legs are up on empty chair right next to him, expression innocent like he’s not doing anything wrong. Of course.


“Where’s your jacket, young man?” Mr. Park says, though he showcases absolutely no surprise whilst pinching the bridge of his nose with absolute exasperation. “And button up your shirt.”


“But professor,” Taehyung drawls with a childish accent, at which Jeongguk rolls his eyes. “It’s too hot today.”


“That I know,” Mr. Park replies, waving it off. He’s come to give up debating Taehyung on university conduct back in his first year with him. “But Mrs. Ahn passes these hallways quite frequently, so I’d wish you spare the rest of us from having to listen to her rant about it later in the teachers’ lounge. I’d like to have a quiet lunch.”


All students are giggling, but Jeongguk finds absolutely nothing funny about Taehyung getting away with mischief. Especially when his expression is overtaken by a sense of satisfaction–oh, how Jeongguk would love to wipe that off his face.


“I’ll dunk out of class early, don’t worry,” Taehyung responds, as if it’s no big deal. He finally removes his legs off the chair, like the uncultured rebel he is, crossing his arms and offering the professor a knowing smile. “So, if you’d skip the revision part and jump straight to the discussion, I could participate.”


“Nice try, but I’m not letting you off that easy,” Mr. Park replies, much to the disappointed of the class, who groans with disagreement. Jeongguk doesn’t even mind revising if it ties to their next lecture, so why whine about it? “Don’t worry, though, we’ll do a quick revision and then jump to the conversation, because I deem it to be very important.” 


Class starts, some notes are written on the chalkboard and Mr. Park starts talking about their previous lecture, always managing to briefly mention the wellbeing of his three cats (one of which is having kittens soon, about which he coos for at least five minutes). Jeongguk pays attention as much as he can manage, but feels like he’s sitting at the edge of his seat.


He isn’t sure if Taehyung is actually boring holes into the back of his head, or has he become that infatuated with the rebel that he’s starting to imagine him starting (and it’s obviously not the latter, at least from Jeongguk’s perspective). They don’t have a lot of classes together and with most of them, Taehyung doesn’t even show up – a wonder he hasn’t gotten expelled yet.


They study different things, Jeongguk is in business, Taehyung is in art. Facts versus feelings, in a way. Taehyung was the one to start teasing first and Jeongguk eventually took the bait – alongside to having a lot of mutual friends, they’re the only ones in that sort of relationship (if you can even call it that).


They compete for top scores, for acknowledgement (at least on Jeongguk’s part), but Taehyung’s nonchalance has always been bothering. He’s confident and laidback, unbothered. Super irritating.


Jeongguk only realizes he’d been going off in his head about Kim Taehyung when Mr. Park claps his hands rather loudly. “Now, class,” he calls, eyes darting around the room. “Is there anyone who can define surrealism for me?”


At this point, everyone’s come to know of their professor’s inability to avoid mixing art with photography in terms of concepts and questions, but he does it with care. A few hands raise, but Mr. Park’s eyes fall towards the window and he gestures to Jeongguk with a smile.


“Yes, Jeongguk-ssi?” He prompts, placing down the folded textbook he’d been gripping on for the last twenty minutes of revision.


“Surrealism is cultural movement popularized in the twenties of Belgium and France, patterned by illogical sense of everyday objects,” Jeongguk responds easily, calculated as always. He’s studied this earlier, prior to coming to class. “André Robert Breton has said that its aim was to resolve the previously contradictory conditions of dream and reality into an absolute reality.”


Mr. Park nods, pleased. “Yes, that would be correct–”


“Sounds bland, if you ask me,” a familiar voice from the back calls and Jeongguk can’t help but roll his eyes because no one asked you anything, Kim. He glances over his shoulder to see the redhead bearing an unimpressed expression, the rest of his artist delinquent friends giggling around him. Great, just what Jeongguk needed.


“May I ask why, Taehyung-ssi?” Their professor asks, partially aware that this is only adding fuel to the fire, but enjoys discourse that he can control. At least for now.


“We can talk all day about quotes from the leader of the movement, dates from when it started – which, by the way, was actually in nineteen-seventeen, not the twenties, but moving on–” Taehyung remarks, sending the class into a giggling fit from his pointed tone of correction. Jeongguk clenches a fist under the table, biting his lip harshly while his cheeks flare with embarrassment.


“–to say that an artistic expression which pushed boundaries of reality as means to paint a picture of art having no real form, that it’s meant to oppose the natural, is just a cultural movement speaks on the inability to appreciate it,” Taehyung continues.


Once again, a lot of whispers. They continue tickling Jeongguk’s ears too much.


“I appreciate the input, Taehyung-ssi,” Mr. Park drawls with a smile, he lowers his hand to the laptop sitting on his desk and presses a finger to the button that obscures the chalkboard with the video beam illustration of a photograph – it’s of a man in the air, jumping, surrounded by a wave of water, three cats and floating furniture. It’s black and white, unrealistic, ridiculous and yet so attention-grabbing.


“I ask about surrealism because this will be the piece we’re discussing today. Can anyone tell me the name?” Mr. Park says, he glances about the classroom once again, sees several hands raised to his delight.


“Dalí Atomicus, Philippe Halsman,” Taehyung answers without even being asked and Jeongguk’s raised hand fists as he lowers it. More annoyingly, Mr. Park doesn’t even mind that he spoke out of turn. “Are we discussing what he deemed as jumpology back then?”


“Partially. We’ll be talking about composition as well,” Mr. Park explains, gesturing to the photograph with dimply lit passion in his eyes. “Philippe liked jumps in photos because he thought a person’s mask falls when their attention is focused on the act of jumping itself. His style has always been spontaneous and bold, but he’s also taken sentimental shots, as the one of Albert Einstein, who’s helped him obtain a US visa in order to evade Nazis invading France–”


“He had a strange group of friends,” Minghao cuts their professor’s rambling so it doesn’t go out of hand. “Salvador Dalí and Albert Einstein? Sounds like some type of joke. A photographer, painter and physician walk into a bar–”


Their class laughs before the ‘joke’ even lands and Jeongguk kind of hates that he hears Taehyung distantly giggle from the back of the classroom (and, for clarification, it’s absolutely normal to recognize thou enemy by their giggle, nothing strange or telling about that).


“As I was saying,” Mr. Park speaks over them, but a knowing smile tugs to his lips. “I’ll be assigning a group project based on this concept later in the school year, but for now, let’s just engage in discourse regarding this particular photograph and its elements.”


That’s how class goes, discussion and discussion. It’s fun listening to other’s opinions, people debating on perspectives, but Jeongguk can’t seem to focus on anything but the loud sound of typing behind him. He’s turned to sit on the side of his chair in order to watch the class unravel, not for the purpose of briefly glancing at Taehyung once in a bit to check if he’s put his phone down yet.


The-red head has the perfect GPA, but dirtiest record – skipping class, dyeing hair, getting ear piercings or visible tattoos, caught smoking cigarettes on campus, all the usual delinquent shit. It’s just so irritating (to Jeongguk and some of the campus body) that despite all of that misconduct, Taehyung is still a flawless student. At least when grades are questioned.


Even when he shows up in class, it’s like the rest should be fucking honored that he came to participate. That is even rarer, so it’s a wonder his GPA is as clean as it is. Somehow, he manages to get away with everything and a part of Jeongguk really dislikes him for the fact that if he were to do the shit Taehyung does, he’d be out of the university in a heartbeat.


And right now, Taehyung is chewing gum in class, twirling a strand of red hair between a finger. He’s staring at his phone with indifference, making a scene like he’s Regina fucking George or something, not even paying attention to class. Jeongguk would wait for him to prematurely leave – like always – but he’s eager to speak. He actually likes photography, unlike some.


“Excuse me, professor,” he says, raising his hand and interrupting a girl ranting about how many celebrities Halsman photographed, which can be deemed irrelevant. She seems annoyed when Mr. Park gestures for Jeongguk to continue, “If I may ask – surrealist photographs tend to disregard a lot of key composition points, such as knowing focus or background, which we’ve discussed the importance of in earlier lectures. So, does surrealism actually aid or harm photography as an art form?”


Whispers are all around once more, Mr. Park seems both pleased and thoughtful upon the question. Jeongguk’s sure he’ll mark that down and give him extra benefits for participation, but while the professor is making up his mind on the subject, there is (of course) another person who doesn’t even wait a heartbeat.


“Babe, that just sounds ignorant on your part. Though, I shouldn’t be surprised,” Taehyung says, the drawl of the nickname accompanied by a lazy smirk that makes the class blush and giggle. Jeongguk’s just annoyed, looking his rival square in the eye.


“Care to explain then, Kim?” He refutes, not wanting to step up to nicknames – he knows, unfortunately, that there isn’t one which would embarrass Taehyung in the same ways Jeongguk reacts to being called babe or baby boy. Taehyung’s just an annoying tease.


“Facts don’t hurt art. It wouldn’t be art, otherwise,” the redhead says, props an elbow on his knee and chin sitting atop a lithe hand. Annoying. “That’s like saying abstract paintings harm the existence of traditional paintings because they defy conventions, like body shapes or laws of physics. Just because it’s hard to understand doesn’t make it meaningless.”


Of course he makes a great point, of-fucking-course. “That’s a straw man, Kim,” Jeongguk responds, huffing under his breath. He can sense Minghao smirking from beside him without even having to look in his direction. “I’m simply saying that after countless lessons on how to properly do photography, we come to a topic that just diminishes the entirety of those rules. In that case, what’s the point?”


Mr. Park might’ve wanted to refute that, but he’s become far too interested in the upcoming discussion between two different sides, while the rest of the class–well, they just want to see the two fight. It’s amusing to watch them flare up.


“Your views are too narrow minded on art, Jeon. That’s why formalists like you shouldn’t dabble in it at all,” Taehyung says, a sigh of disappointment falling from his lips – which is actually worse than if he were to get more heated in the debate. “And by the way, those aren’t rules, they’re suggestions. For boring people like you who take pretty photos, not thought-provoking ones. You should stay in your lane, babe.”


“Stay in my lane?” Jeongguk frowns, he can’t help but to. It only angers him further when Taehyung’s eyes lit mischievously over his expression. “Okay, so what if someone tried to play Mozart’s Requiem and absolutely butchered all the notes, is that still art?”


He wouldn’t dare mention that with Taehyung being an arts major, he is the one out of his lane in the discussion – plus, referencing a piano piece to a piano prodigy may also have been a bad move.


“Imperfection is art. Facts are perfect, polished, precise and always stays the same. Art transcends that, so yes – a poorly executed Requiem is still an art piece, because that’s what it’s intended to be,” Taehyung replies with a shrug, he raises a mocking eyebrow Jeongguk’s way. “You’re a conformist, Jeon. What do you know about art, hm?”


Everyone’s starting to get loud with their whispering, a collective hush over the room while Jeongguk feels the tip of his ears turn red. Mr. Park claps his hand to the clipboard, garnering everyone’s attention since the debate has turned more personal.


“Okay, you two, I’d also like to hear from the rest of the–” He starts, but a ring cuts his words short and sends the students flying from their seats. Mr. Park sighs as he watches them leave, but doesn’t even bother at this point. “Jeon Jeongguk-ssi, would you please collect the next assignment papers and pass them to your classmates?”


“Don’t we have email for that?” Minghao mutters under his breath, but Jeongguk just nods in the professor’s direction as he packs up. From the corner of his eye, he sees Taehyung grinning at his phone screen and hurrying out of the classroom, cheeks flushed. What’s that about?


Honestly, Jeongguk can’t even bother with that right now. He can’t refuse the professor asking him for assistance (he’s too good mannered for that, unlike some), but he hates the thought of having to hand Taehyung a paper politely – he collects them at the desk while Minghao waits on him, so that they can grab some lunch together.


“Jeongguk-ssi,” Mr. Park says, closing up his laptop whilst glancing at the young student looking over the assignment paper. “Is there anything hostile between you and Taehyung? Any resentment or animosity?”


Caught off guard, Jeongguk clears his throat and tries to keep himself from kicking Minghao in the shin for giggling behind him. “N–No, we just… don’t get along the best,” he answers with the fakest smile and tightest voice, despite the answer being truthful. Though he went lax on the reasoning.


“Ah, is that so?” Mr. Park says, he doesn’t appear to believe him at all, but thankfully drops the topic. “In any case, be careful and stay out of trouble. I’ll see you next Friday.”


Everyone’s packed up and left by then, Jeongguk struggling to push the folder case of assignment papers into his overly stuffed student briefcase – curse him for taking so many classes. He keeps a few papers at hand in case he finds some classmates in the hallway.


“Y’know, I would’ve been worried too,” Minghao says once they finally head out together. His shirt is unbuttoned again and his slacks are untidy, but Jeongguk can’t even pay it mind. “After Taehyung drilled you at that debate like that.”


Jeongguk tongues the inside of his cheek annoyingly, the embarrassment and humiliation still fresh for him – he hates that most of the time, he even disagrees with the arguments he proposes, but he’d rather be wrong than agree with Taehyung. Unfortunately for him, that never works out with the redhead being so quick-witted. One communication flaw on him would be fucking great, thanks.


“I can’t even deal with him right now,” Jeongguk decides to respond, handing a paper to Minghao while they make their way towards the exit. “He’s so arrogant.”


Minghao shrugs, tucking the assignment in his bag like it’s a dollar store receipt. “I mean, if I looked like that and had his talent, I would’ve been arrogant too,” he says, making Jeongguk’s eye twitch. Are you Kim’s friend or mine, huh?


“Being humble doesn’t hurt either,” he mutters under his breath, expression of disdain softening when he meets a freshman in the hallway that asks him for the assignment paper, which he hands to her. Jeongguk thinks she’s one of the quiet ones in the class, the poor thing. She just wants to learn photography, but ends up listening to him and Taehyung go at disagreements like rabbits (isn’t that a sex metaphor, though?) 


“What’s all the noise about?” Minghao asks suddenly, loud voices filling their ears.


At the front entrance, a group has gathered with cameras up in the air and is whooping in encouragement. It’s just by the hall where undergraduates attend their class, which Jeongguk finds odd, until he and Minghao break through the crowd to get to the door and find a supposed undergraduate pinning, you guessed it, Kim fucking Taehyung to the wall, tongues down each other’s throats.


Great, just what I wanted to see, Jeongguk thinks, briefly observing the taller of the two – isn’t the handsome transfer everyone’s been talking about? Park Hyungsik, right? He always looked like the proper type, a boyfriend to take home and meet the parents, but here he is – hands cradled over Taehyung’s waist and leg between the redhead’s thighs. Awesome. 


“Bet people are gonna be even more jealous of Taehyung now,” Minghao laughs from beside him, but Jeongguk doesn’t find anything funny about the fact that the two are making out – for whatever reason – at the entrance door, making it difficult to pass by. Though it seems like no one has the intention to do so.


Jeongguk glances around, notices that no one is stepping up and he’s sighing internally, bracing himself by closing his eyes and thinking lord fucking help me, give me the strength not to strangle this idiot on the spot, thank you. He takes several steps forward, pretending to be unbothered, but he’s more so annoyed from the earlier debacle at class.


Kim Taehyung is really getting on his nerves right now.


Everyone’s buzzing and clicking like they’re on some fucking reality TV show, by the time Jeongguk walks up the door and attempts to open it, but is stopped by Taehyung’s body leaning on it. He glances over, catches a glimpse of tan skin under the shirt Hyungsik bunched over his hand by gripping Taehyung’s slim waist (slim being an unnecessary and needlessly noticed adjective by Jeongguk).


The other doors have been broken for a week (ever since someone pulled a stupid super glue prank or whatever) and no one has come around to fixing them yet, so Jeongguk is both frustrated and hungry, yet he can’t get to relieving that by going to lunch because Kim fucking Taehyung seemingly wants to get plowed in the damn hallway.


“Seriously, Kim,” he eventually groans, a headache pounding it. “Can’t you keep it in your pants for like, I don’t know, ten minutes – or maybe get a room on the way? Cause people have better business to do than watch you make out with some undergraduate.”


He’s not even noticed until then, the way Taehyung is tangling one hand in Hyungsik’s hair, the other on his neck, black-painted nails (which are against formal conduct and definitely not attractive) leaving red marks in the skin–Jeongguk hasn’t noticed how their lips are melting together, only connected by a small string of saliva when they pull back from one another.


Taehyung licks over his spit-slicken lips, head tilting back into the glass door and turning to Jeongguk with a familiar grin. “Doesn’t seem like it,” he says, referring to the crowd watching this unfold, but Jeongguk can only hear how breathy his voice is. “Are you jealous, babe? Want to join in?”


His voice shouldn’t sound so fucked out already. And there shouldn’t be a curious glimpse of red ink on Taehyung’s hipbone, right where Hyungsik is pressing an eager palm over.


Jeongguk scoffs, cheeks flushed. Though detesting of having to do in front of a group of people, he hands the assignment to Taehyung. “Here, try to do some schoolwork,” he says through almost grit teeth, he has to do this, unfortunately. “And like I said, get a room.”


Hyungsik is tugging at Taehyung definitely not tantalizing and small waist, wanting to follow that request in order to aid the rest of student body wanting to get to lunch, but the redhead barely manages to comply. Taehyung’s forearms fall on Hyungsik’s shoulders, forehead tilting onto his chest.


“Aw, so you don’t want to join?” He mocks, too loudly. He doesn’t bother to take the paper and Jeongguk just knows by that infuriating smirk, Taehyung can’t even stop himself from saying, “Eh, I guess your baby dick wouldn’t be able to satisfy me anyways.”


The slurs and hollers are somewhat mute to Jeongguk as Hyungsik pulls Taehyung away from causing anymore drama, though he clearly can’t contain his smile of amusement either as they head down the hall. Taehyung just throws him a wink over the shoulder before disappearing out of sight, finally allowing students to pass through.


“Yikes, that was brutal,” a girl mutters as she passes Jeongguk and he can’t help but wonder what about such a fifth grade type of insult was brutal? Referencing dick size only shows how much Taehyung is obsessed about it, but whatever.


Baby dick? Yeah, right. Jeongguk thinks, hearing Minghao’s voice in the distance. If you only knew, sweetheart.


“Gguk? Hey, you okay there?” Minghao is speaking, somewhat confused by why his friend looks so pent up. Jeongguk stares at the assignment left in his hand, then shakes his head and starts walking out. He’s still tonguing the inside of his cheek, a thought itching at the back of his mind.


He detests thinking about Taehyung pinned and pliant like that. Because it’s been at least three months since he’s last had sex and only now, after such long abstinence for him, has the urge come as strongly. Going to town for a bar hookup isn’t plausible with how much work he has to do, but–


“Minghao,” Jeongguk says, getting an idea. “Can you possibly get me Yejun’s number?”


His friend must be even more confused, but Jeongguk can’t bear to look at him at the moment. He’s thinking too hard, distracting himself. “Sure I can, but why would you–” Minghao is saying, but he stops for a moment. “Are you really gonna go for him, Gguk? I mean, I heard he’s pretty good–”


“Yeah, it’s fine,” Jeongguk interrupts, acting casual about it. That’s what university students do, right? Have casual sex. “I’ll just–I’ll see how it goes.”



  • chat: 97’ abominations (+gguk)


donkey kong
which one of y’all fuckers changed everyone’s names to cartoon characters??

yours is technically a video game character tho

mighty min
no one asked minghao
also, who named me after the mighty mouse
i’d like to have a word


jeon smith
mingyu, yours isn’t even that bad
i mean
look at yoon’s


i regret calling myself jay once
i’ve made too many mistakes

listen, i couldn’t find a character on y
jaen is the jane version of jaehyun
like, from tarzan
get it?


jeon smith
this is worse than when you named us by instant ramen brands


it certainly fit the college aesthetic better
but anyways
gguk, please do tell on your newest big decision

jeon smith
i don’t recall anything like that???


donkey kong
yeah, like deciding to fuck yejun isn’t a big deal AT ALL



jeon smith
you guys are the ones that keep saying i need sex
are you objecting after telling me he’s good at it


mighty min
not at all
it’s just that the guy’s a huge gossip
everyone’s gonna know you screwed

jeon smith
i’m not a prude
rumors have spread before, campus knows i have sex
it’s not like my dick fell off from studying


mine would, tbh
but like
you have a BIGGER secret than that, lmao

jeon smith
don’t even


why did that sound so ominous
what other secret??
do you have tattoos in hiding or smth??

jeon smith
ugh, i wish
don’t pay attention to kunpi, he’s just being obnoxious again


wow rude

i’m still sus though
are you sure you want to sleep with him or

jeon smith
do you guys want me to get some ass or not??
cause i’m kinda pent up and i’m pretty sure none of y’all are offering


HDSK this is all cause you saw tae pinned by the new transfer
it was kinda hot, we get it
go have fun, have sex
and use protection !!

mighty min
stop, you’re sounding like an overbearing sex-positive parent

jeon smith
i regret befriending you guys
and it’s not bc of kim, wtf


sure thing
i’ll be the one laughing when you two fuck by the end of the school year
i’m gonna buy a new xbox with the bet money


jeon smith

so, you guys
bet on us fucking??


ye, why not?


[ jeon smith has left the chat ]

this is the fourth time this week
each time we mention taehyung

donkey kong
you’re forgetting this is a slow burn



“I honestly like this one the best,” Hyungsik mutters against the sore skin over Taehyung’s right hipbone, lips grazing both the bruises he left the night prior and the widespread of a red rose tattoo. “This one just… fits you. Beautiful and dangerous.”


Taehyung laughs, a breathy sound escaping his aching throat. The after-pain of a mouth fuck with a big dick has always been more of an enjoyment than a nuisance – gets him hot just at the thought of it, hence the round they had first thing in the morning. He has class, but, y’know – priorities.


“Now you’re waxing me poetry too?” Taehyung says, tearing his gaze away from the phone in his hand, to throw a taunting smirk to the man between his legs right now. “I already gave you Seojoon-hyung’s number. I don’t need you to do a whole lot more.”


“Oh, I know,” Hyungsik laughs, tongue tracing all the little details on the rose. Yoongi’s put a lot of work into that one, it surely paid off. “Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to sleep with you regardless, but we all fantasize about those that aren’t easy to get.”


“Wow, I suck your dick and this is how you repay me?” Taehyung laughs again, the mood between them is lighthearted. His hips twitch when Hyungsik’s tongue slips lower, over the juncture between his crotch and thigh. “You’re shooting high, though. Plus, hyung graduates this year.”


Hyungsik hums, warm palms pressing under Taehyung’s knees and bending them upwards. It spreads the redhead beautifully, giving a perfect view. “Even better,” he says, leaning in to pick up on the hickeys he left last night. “Been a while since I sucked a doctor’s dick.”


Taehyung cocks an amused eyebrow, he reaches down to tangle fingers in Hyungsik’s brunet hair. It’s tangled, messy and so nice to just grip. “You mean to say you have before?” He prompts with intrigue. Sex stories can be fun, especially when someone’s lips are so close to your cock.


“First prostate exam at eighteen,” Hyungsik explains, breath lingering over Taehyung’s sore, used hole and for a moment, Taehyung just hopes to be plunged by his tongue again because god, that man sure knows how to rim, fuck. “Had to pay him back for making me jizz all over the table.”


Taehyung drops his phone for a moment, he feels laughter bubbling up his throat when Hyungsik glances up at him with a smirk, fingers just grazing over the length of his slowly hardening cock. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” Taehyung points out. His back arches when a tongue licks up his perineum.


“Don’t you like that?” Hyungsik says, it’s hard to tell if he’s asking about the story or the absolutely marvelous movements he’s doing down there between Taehyung’s legs right now. God, what a shame they won’t get to fuck at least once again – well, unless Hyungsik fulfils his goal of getting on Seojoon’s dick by the end of the month. And speaking of that–


“By the way,” Taehyung says, he tugs on the other’s hair to signal to him that they need to get on the main act. It’s been two hours since their first round of morning sex and they’ve spent their time discussing Jane Austen novels and humming jazz tunes. “How come you didn’t get hyung’s number from Seokjin or someone like that?”


Hyungsik reaches for the packet of condoms they’ve thrown aside earlier, he laughs while tearing it open with his teeth. “He’s so private, it’s hard to get his number anywhere. And Seokjin wants to be paid,” he says, propping one of Taehyung’s long legs up on his shoulder. “While, this way, I get his number and also get to fuck a cute bottom. It’s a win-win for me.”


The redhead shudders upon the cold feeling of lube poured between his legs, just where the tip of a lengthy cock presses to his hole. Hyungsik likes it wet, it seems, and he doesn’t mind either. “I should’ve made you promise me a threesome,” Taehyung mutters, a shudder running through his body. He feels lightheaded, pleased. “Bet it’d be fun to see you fucked so hard you go dumb.”


Hyungsik laughs, he looks gorgeous while running fingers through brown hair, eyes filled with want and need as he stares down between Taehyung’s legs, inching the tip of his cock inside the tantalizing redhead. “C’mon, don’t make me feel needy too,” he teases, abs and pectorals shining with a thin layer of sweat. “We could’ve done it with the pretty boy back in the hall yesterday.”


It’s hard for Taehyung to hear that when he’s being filled so nicely, the length just satisfying, but the girth stretches him to the point it leaves him breathless. Fuck, he loves doing it with guys who go both ways – either bi guys or switches, they tend to please him better than strictly gay tops do.


The words only register when Hyungsik’s halfway inside him. “Y–You mean–ahh...” He moans under his breath, feels the nudge against his prostate that makes all of his nerves go haywire. He’s conjuring an image in his mind, of a frowning face, framed by raven hair, gaze dropping to his– “J–Jeon? You can’t be serious–fuck…”


Hyungsik grins lazily, takes all the time in the fucking world to slowly thrust his length inside. Taehyung slips his hand down, gripping on his partner’s forearm as a warning to fuck him properly already. His fingernails leave crescent shaped marks in the tan skin.


“Ah, so that’s the Jeongguk guy everyone talks about,” Hyungsik says as an afterthought, almost as if his dick isn’t buried five inches deep inside Taehyung and the redhead is attempting to rock his hips down to take more. Licking his lips, Hyungsik savors the sight until the moment he pushes forward and makes Taehyung gasp.


“He’s cute,” he further adds, but Taehyung’s enjoying himself too much to hear anything. There’s always been a considerable amount of satisfaction upon taking a larger size and it would be even better if Hyungsik didn’t keep talking about fucking Jeon Jeongguk. “What, you don’t like the idea?”


Something in the back of Taehyung’s mind is telling him that Hyungsik must’ve seen the way him and Jeongguk act towards each other back in the hallway, but chose to take it a completely different way.


“O–Of course fucking not, he’s–” Taehyung attempts to say, a whimper escaping him when a hand wraps around his neglected cock. He’s already leaking from barely being fucked. “H–He’s my rival.”


Hyungsik stifled a giggle, jerking him lazily while thrusting in an equally slow pace. “Means you have good tension,” he points out, adjusting the leg over his shoulder so that he leans down more easily in order to press kisses across Taehyung’s chest. His tongue flicks over a nipple, glancing upwards with a smirk, “Would love to see him fuck it out of you, to be honest.”


The continuous presses to his prostate are making Taehyung dizzy, he’s always been too sensitive there, too needy. “S–Shut–mmh,” he whines, he tries not to think about what Hyungsik just said. He doesn’t really want to think about Jeon Jeongguk on top of him while another guy fucks him, no thank you. “I–It’s gonna make me soft, y’know?”


Hyungsik takes it as a joke, lips grazing Taehyung’s nub while he chuckles. He presses a finger to the frenulum of his hard cock, teasing, “Doesn’t look like it to me.”


Taehyung flushes, somewhat embarrassed – he can’t help but be aroused in this situation, so it’s unfair to say that. Not to mention that avoidance of such obvious statements is a specialty of his. “He w–wouldn’t be able to satisfy me, anyways,” he remarks, just as means to say it, to convince himself.


Perhaps his consistent denial about the size rumor he’s heard from Yoongi is just a way to be petty, not liking the idea of his rival having a one up on him. But knowing Jeongguk, he’d never reveal or be able to use that as an argument, so Taehyung is just being too obsessive over it.


Hyungsik laughs airily, like Yoongi does when he knows something Taehyung doesn’t. Leaving his sore, red nipples to perk against the cold air, he kisses further up and reaches the redhead’s neck. “Really? Cause this morning’s rumors say otherwise,” he whispers lowly, invitingly and when the speed of his thrusts increases, Taehyung can’t even focus enough to register those words.


What morning rumors? He wants to ask, but why bother when he has other things to enjoy? It doesn’t even mean much, probably.



To be fair, most of the time, rumors are just that – rumors, gossip, mindless chatter used to pass time and entertain. Taehyung’s heard many of them on campus, concerning himself. From people saying that he hasn’t been kicked out of uni because he’s the secret son the Dean had over an affair, to some speculating he’s so well off, he doesn’t even need to pursue school and yet decides to do it.


Both of those are false, obviously. The rumors concerning his sex life, however, have been anything but lies. Is he a sub? Technically, yes – he’s a strict bottom, but switches in being dominant and submissive. He has yet to find a good partner that will make him cry, thus the pillow prince rumor is half-true as well.


The size queen rumor isn’t even a rumor at this point, it’s just a well-known fact. Kim Taehyung, piano prodigy, top of class on each semester (that he barely attends), one in a million sort of talent and skill, likes a big dick as much as the next porn star does. And once he sleeps with someone and comes to school satisfied, it’s clear that person is well-endowed.


Fine arts class is… alright. It’s an improvement compared to other curriculums that he has to take, but their professor of fine arts just adores abstract pieces, which are Taehyung’s specialty. So, more often than not, they get along. What makes the class boring is the lack of interesting people.


He’s forgotten his tie in Hyungsik’s room, but he rarely bothers with it as it is. He would’ve forgotten his briefcase too, if his phone weren’t in it.


“Taehyung-ah!” A female voice calls upon him entering the classroom. By the window is a friend of his, Park Jeonghwa, waving to him and then gesturing to the empty seat right beside. It spares Taehyung of sitting by some idiot again.


He makes his way over, ignoring the glances always thrown his way, dropping his briefcase on the desk and dipping down to kiss Jeonghwa’s cheek in greeting. “Ugh, thank god you’re here. I regretted coming to class as soon as I stepped into the building,” he says, sitting in his chair with a bothersome sigh.


Jeonghwa rolls her eyes goodheartedly, she pulls out her books and sets them down all proper. “I thought you wouldn’t show up cause of the new rumor,” she says, tucking a strand of silver hair behind her ear. For a diligent student, she sure likes to disobey the ‘no dyeing hair’ rule at least every two months. No wonder Hyojin and Heeyeon have an eye on her.


“Rumor?” Taehyung mutters, he leans back into the uncomfortable chair and scrolls over the messages on his phone. “It’s no secret that we slept together, isn’t it? And I didn’t get fucked so hard I wouldn’t be able to come to school.”


Jeonghwa clears her throat at that, as if she misspoke. “Oh, I wasn’t referring to that,” she says, too easily. She looks a bit amused as well. “Well, I guess it’s not widespread yet. Never mind then.”


Taehyung  might’ve wanted to question her about that, but his phone keeps buzzing. Looking towards the screen, he sees notifications popping for a group chat, far more important than the professor entering the classroom. He can’t really seem to bring himself to care, she always shows up early anyways.


  • chat: glam squad


you didn’t update us on last night

how was it??
i bet he was a 6/10

class is literally starting in five minutes


oh, i’d give him a 8/10
he wasn’t too big, but he knew how to use it well
++ i got two rounds of morning sex


oof, get it
of course, my info is never wrong
i heard he gives good rimjobs too

why tf do you know that??


oh yeah, that man rims like a GOD
would’ve liked to hop on it a few more times, but eh
i’ll find a new one soon


you have marvelous timing
bc oh boy
do i have NEWS for YOU

wait a sec, hoseok’s blowing up my phone
i gotta see what his chaotic ass wants


once again, we have class

you say that like it matters


Taehyung bites at the surface of his nail, teeth gliding over the black polish, opening up another chat. Hoseok tends to scream about the littlest things (like seeing a cute puppy at the park or finding a new flavor of ice cream), so he’s careful not to get alarmed too quick.


“Class, put away your phones,” their professor calls, mostly addressing Taehyung. He can’t even bother to look up and hears her say from the other side of the room. “This will be on your next exam. Let’s start with our first lesson on the relationship between fine and applied arts–”


I already know this, Taehyung figures, hearing Jeonghwa scribbling notes from beside him. Class is boring, as always, so he opts for checking Hoseok’s messages in the meantime.


  • chat: unproblematic seok hyung




wtf, why are you so extra first thing in the morning
it’s too early for this


it’s literally noon
did jin tell you yet !!!!


he was about to and then you came in screaming
is it about the new football game
you know i’m the hating sports kind of gay




ok ew
why are you texting me about /him/ of all people??


so, turns out he actually slept with yejun last night


does it look like i care??


oh i forgot you two don’t get along
you and yejun i mean
he stole your boyfriend freshman year right??
kinda shitty of him, i gotta say


i don’t think yejun is the problem here
why would i care if he slept with jeon or not??
like good for him, he got laid by the biggest prude on earth
fucking yay


mans says he was /too good/
rumors are all over the school


ha, that’s a good one
yejun can’t say that with his repertoire
he has universally bad taste in guys




i don’t know what??


oh my god this is actually hilarious
i feel kinda bad for laughing skfks
you have the worst luck sfhfhs


i still don’t understand what this has to do with me??
why did you come to scream at me about yaejun laying jeon


cause, as it turns out, my dear taehyungie
jeon jeongguk is actually fucking HUNG


Taehyung blinks at his phone screen, he glances up and hears a lot of whispers, many of his classmates looking his way and giggling behind their hands. All of the mentions of the rumor, how people are acting around him, awaiting of him to finally react, it’s all falling into place.


No fucking way, Taehyung thinks, quickly turning back to his phone. God, this is worse than when he had that conversation with Yoongi about the same issue – this can’t be fucking real life, it can’t be.




omg, i’m soso sorry, this must be the worst for you
but like, yejun has no reason to lie
poor thing has been limping the entire morning


maybe he got fucked badly
like, what even is his definition of hung


idk, he said the length is the same as his forearm
sounds kinda big if you ask me


What the fuck, that must be over seven inches, Taehyung thinks, he feels like breaking into cold sweat. His thoughts are literally swirling because Yejun’s limping? What the fuck.


He tried to dismiss the idea of that so much, even after hearing it from two (ahem) “reputable” sources, but why is this unraveling just after he humiliated Jeongguk in the hallway yesterday? Is that why he went along and slept with the biggest gossip at campus? It must’ve been on purpose, right? Even if seems out of character for Jeongguk.


  • chat: glam squad


okay, what the fuck is going on


so, i take it you heard the rumors??
god, i wish i could just see your face right now

idk why you’re surprised tae
i literally told you about it last week

wait, you had info on that??
and didn’t even tell ME??

i don’t trust your stingy ass, believe it or not
and i’m surprised it’s out, considering how private jeongguk is
he should’ve known yejun would tell everyone


am i really supposed to believe a word he says?


we get it, it’s your worst nightmare come true
that your rival, of all people, has the dick of your dreams
sucks to be you

i hate that i’m invested in this, but i literally called it
karma is really out for you


yeah right
why would i trust something i haven’t confirmed myself??


lmao, do you want to??
cus it’s gonna be hard to set you up with him
i heard he has a weak spot for thigh highs though

oh, no need for that
their tension is gonna turn sexual real quick, trust me

ew, i don’t wanna know about his kinks, thank you
it’s just gossip anyways


you can deny it all you want
doesn’t really erase the fact that it’s most likely true

i bet you’re curious about it


fuck no
him having a big dick doesn’t change anything
i still don’t like him


i mean
you can just like his dick if you want to
and it sounds like he’s good in bed
you should hop on it

not in a million fucking years
now, if you don’t mind me
i gotta get back to class


lmao, class????
that just shows the denial

poor thing has been traumatized by gguk’s dick before even seeing it
think about it lots, taehyungie !!


What a bunch of supportive friends he has, ugh. Maybe Taehyung sort of deserves it after winning every argument, always leaving with the last word, etcetera – maybe the universe finally decided to give Jeongguk a fair shot, but there’s no way he’d use it to his advantage in his arguments.


Sometimes you know your enemies better than you know your friends, but it’s definitely not to the point that you want to be really, really close with them; like intimately close, enough that you want to, kind of, get plowed into the bed by them. That’s certainly not the case here, Taehyung’s just–well, y’know–curious (because wanting to know your enemy’s dick size isn’t suspicious at all).


Either way, even if the rumor is true, Jeongguk’s too prissy to use it in a verbal fight, so Taehyung’s got nothing to ponder about. Yet, annoyingly enough, it just can’t help but sit at the back of his mind – a star athlete and golden student, he can’t possibly be well-endowed too? How would the rest of the world stand a chance?


It’s just rumors, anyways. Right?



“Told you this would happen,” Yoonoh says as they drop lunches on one of the center tables in the academy cafeteria, which is (rather conveniently) filled to the brim with students throwing glances their way. Minghao is trying to conceal at least fifty percent of his amusement, but Kunpimook is almost doubling over with laughter. He drops his backpack on Mingyu’s foot and trips over the chair.


“Fucking hell, sit properly,” the tall brunet hisses, pulling Kunpimook to sit and Yugyeom snorts into his apple juice whilst watching everything unfold. Jeongguk stares blankly, heaving the loudest sigh while tugging at the collar of his uniform shirt.


“I tried to convince him not to do it,” he responds to Yoonoh, referencing to the fact that Yejun spread the rumor as soon as morning light came. He unwraps his sandwich, muttering under his breath, “I couldn’t accept his conditions on it either…”


Minghao wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, in a way it makes Jeongguk wish he could his avoid sexually suggestible comments by punching his friend over the nose. “Oh, conditions?” Minghao speaks, the details are juicy when Jeongguk tries so hard to avoid them. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”


Clearing his throat, Jeongguk glances away with a troublesome gulp of his food. His cheeks are so flushed he feels his skin tingling. “I can’t manage a friends with benefits relationship with him for a whole year,” he explains, throat dry upon his friends’ delighted expressions. “He would’ve spread the rumor regardless.”


“I mean, it’s not exactly a rumor. Cause it’s true, right?” Kunpimook says, nudging Seokmin in the side to back him up, but the other just can’t seem to get over his giggling fit. “I saw it in the locker rooms by accident, so…”


Jeongguk’s face twists into displeasure upon the reminder. “Yeah, you even leaned over to take a better look and said, and I quote, “wow, huge fucking snake man!”” He imitates his friend’s voice, much to the pleasure of their group simultaneously bursting into laughter.


“To be fair, no one would go “wow, nice king of fucking snakes, how incredibly normal, what’s for breakfast?”” Kunpimook huffs, partially embarrassed and red to the tips of his ears. “Did you ever… y’know, measure it?”


Jeongguk chokes on his lemon-blueberry infused water (in case it’s not already obvious he’s that type of a health nut), fingers trembling even if he knew this question would eventually come up in person – after the countless times it came up in his chats and messages, of course.


“Why would I?” He tries to play it off, but remembers being a teenager and watching porn, comparing his size to the actors in those erotic movies and realizing they’re about the same. Thus, he assumed everyone out there is also like that – until his first sexual encounter in third year of high school, when his girlfriend turned him down in order to keep her cervix intact.


“That just sounds cocky. What, you never had to measure it?” Minghao slings an arm over Jeongguk’s shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “C'mon, you’re literally a nerd with a huge dick. What’s there to be embarrassed about?”


“Um, everything?” Jeongguk says like it’s obvious, a tinge of discomfort under his skin. People have been staring at him this entire morning, whispering more than usual, filled with glee over his supposed competence in bed, but Jeongguk’s never been the type to brag about such things.


“There’s nothing you can do once it’s out there,” Mingyu tries to reason, though he’s nonchalant about further saying, “I’m just wondering why you turned Yejun’s offer down, even after saying he’s pretty good in bed?”


Jeongguk chews on his bottom lip, nervous for no reason. “He’s good, but… well, I guess we don’t click? It was nice for a few rounds, but I’d need more excitement than that,” he explains, even if it all ends up sounding dirtier than he intended (then again, they are discussing sex, so why wouldn’t it be?). Plus, sleeping with Yejun would mean their entire sex-life would be broadcast, which he isn’t keen of.


This rumor (at least) makes Jeongguk’s search of a sex partner easier, it eliminates his fear of this information being spread out (now that it already has), makes it okay to sleep with someone on campus and people who probably can’t handle his size won’t approach him anymore.


Excitement over new rumors can only last for so long, before it becomes mandatory. It was like that with Taehyung’s size queen rumor as well.


Jeongguk doesn’t even want to think about that right now, but his friends surely have no trouble bringing it up. “But wow,” Seokmin drags, a smirk tugging on his lips. “Does this mean there’s a chance for you and Kim to bang, after all?”


Kunpimook is smiling like an idiot into his bulgogi, he’s already secured the bet money in his head – but Jeongguk has no desire (let me repeat, absolutely no need) to indulge that and actually end up in bed with the one person he’d love to kick under his feet, watching him unravel and sob while adjusting to the size of his enormous, thick–okay, no. He needs to stop doing that.


“Your face suggests you’re already fucking him in your head,” Yugyeom points out whilst waving his unsliced cucumber around. He ends up pointing it in Jeongguk’s face, much to his mortification. “You can’t deny it, can’t you?”


Jeongguk gulps, since he’s always been too much of a bad liar to get away with that one. He can’t afford to be sexually attracted to his rival, when it makes him the loser in their push and pull games. “You guys are the ones always going on about his… beauty, or whatnot,” he mutters, turning his head from the ghastly cucumber.


Sure, he changed the topic – and also modified his words, because he well knows his friends talk about wanting to fuck Taehyung, side to how talented and pretty and gorgeous and whatever other complimentary adjective he is – but it’s not like he can answer Yugyeom’s question just like that.


“Yeah, but there’s too much talk about how hard he is to satisfy because of his size kink or whatever,” Minghao says, putting his legs up on an empty chair like the uncultured delinquent that he is. He cocks his head at Jeongguk, grinning, “But sounds like you’d just be able to please him now.”


Setting his water down, Jeongguk uneasily trails a finger over the open rim whilst thinking, but catching himself quickly once he realizes he’s considering it. There shouldn’t be anything to ponder about, he shouldn’t wondering if he can turn the unhinged, nonchalant prodigy Kim Taehyung into nothing more than a desperate, moaning mess. What a (definitely not arousing) sight it would be.


“You’re thinking about it again,” Yugyeom points out, biting harshly into the tip of his cucumber. It’s starting to get more and more horrific, especially when he fixes Jeongguk with a knowing gaze. “Why not take advantage of this being out there and use that fact that you’re Taehyung’s ideal guy against him?”


Jeongguk scoffs because it sounds ridiculous – they clearly don’t know Taehyung as much as he does, which isn’t something he should be proud of, yet he is. “I’m not that petty,” he reasons, but honestly, bringing that up in an argument will only make him look more pathetic. Taehyung’s smooth and quick-witted, he’d have a response to put Jeongguk back in place if he were to even mention it.


“Either way, I’m still betting you two will fuck by the end of this year,” Kunpimook says with his mouth full, to which Mingyu nudges him and scolds about table manners.


“That’s not fair, given the current info that we have, of course they’ll end up fucking sooner than we thought,” Seokmin says, as if Jeongguk isn’t there and on the verge of strangling all of them. “This is why you encouraged him to pursue Yejun, isn’t it?”


Mingyu sighs when Kunpimook grins, cheeks full. “If you put this much thought into studying, you wouldn’t be failing so hard,” he comments. From there, laughter and more teasing comes, like nothing’s changed.


Yet, for whatever reason, Jeongguk feels uneasy.



Despite being used to stares, it’s starting to get more and more annoying. Eyes are usually filled with jealousy, want or greed when following Taehyung so closely, but they’re eager now. Excited, or whatever. Because that godforsaken rumor is out and the idiots think it will change things (loosely used term here) between him and Jeongguk, but it couldn’t be further from the truth.


He’s supposed to meet with his chaotic, untrustworthy, shady ass friends, scouring the hallways of the social science building (because Yoongi is taking psychology class for whatever reason, despite being a music production major?) and getting eyefuls with every step he takes. And instead of their usual remarks on him being entitled or over the top, now they’re just curious about what he thinks on Jeon Jeongguk’s fucking dick size. Great.


At the end of the hall, by the vending machines you can only get water or protein bars from (even if it’s not near close to any sports clubs), he spots an obvious head of pink hair – Seokjin, the tall piece of work that he is, appears to be amusing Jimin, who looks like one of those ‘proper but secretly kinky’ students from yaoi manga.


Just as he was about to wave to them, Taehyung misses an inch of getting hit by a classroom door sliding further open. He turns to tell the person to be more careful, but words catch his ears first.


“Should I have to piggyback you everywhere for the next few days?” Ahn Hyojin is saying through laughter, offering an arm to her friend in order to help him walk a little better. Yejun sighs, leaning his head on her shoulder as they’re about the same height.


“I wish he would, to be honest. But I guess you’ll have to do for now,” he drawls jokingly, but his eyes really betray too much honesty. “God, I can’t feel my fucking legs, that’s how good it was. You never know what nerds hide under those uniforms.”


Hyojin laughs, she pats Yejun over the hip reassuringly. “I know, you’ve been fawning over it the entire morning. I’m glad you had fun,” she says, but her eyes notice red hair beside the door and she glances upwards. “Ah, Taehyung! Sorry, did the door hit you? Can’t really use my arms when I have to help this guy around.”


She nudges Yejun in the side with her elbow, her other hand occupied with carrying both of their school briefcases. He huffs, doesn’t say a lot, but Taehyung is only staring at the fact that his neck is littered with hickeys when he turns his head away from the redhead. Fresh, blooming, dark hickeys. From behind his ear, to his jaw.


Taehyung gulps, teeth unconsciously grinding together. Jeon’s rough, then? He thinks, but immediately dismisses the thought.


“It’s all good, noona,” he replies to Hyojin, eyes darting back to her so she doesn’t notice his observations. “Say, I heard you’re gonna DJ at the new house party this weekend? At Choi Youngjae’s place, right?”


Ah right, the actual son of the Dean who does the most American college thing imaginable by turning his family vacation house into a party zone. Must be nice, being rich and gathering the entirety of the academy for inappropriate body shots and guaranteed sex in the Dean’s bedroom.


“Oh yeah, I can’t refuse that little minx. He’s too sweet–before he drinks, y’know,” Hyojin dismisses with a shake of her head, referring to the fact that Youngjae switches to party animal in the course of five tequila shots. “You coming or not? Cause I know Jeon’s crew is gonna be there.”


Of course, Yejun’s eyes dart back over and his ears perk like a fucking cat, to which Taehyung almost rolls his eyes at. But he has manners and more self-awareness (than some), thus he just shrugs in Hyojin’s direction.


“What does that matter to me? Jeon never shows up to parties anyways,” he responds, hands tucked in the pockets of his nicely fitted slacks.


“Too bad,” Yejun suddenly drawls, lips pulled in a mocking pout, but he’s otherwise riddled with amusement. “That might’ve been your only chance to get it up, Taehyung. He’s exactly your type, isn’t he?”


Tall, toned, dark-haired, athletic, smart, articulate and with a big dick? Not at all.


“Wouldn’t you know?” Taehyung prompts with a cocked eyebrow, referring to the ex boyfriend incident from freshman year. Yejun’s eyes sharpen at his supposed nonchalance. “Should I congratulate you for fucking him? Too bad, because I don’t really think it’s an accomplishment.”


The shorter of the two resists laughing under his breath. “No, it’s too bad for you if the rumors are true,” he comments, taking a step forward and getting on his tippy toes. Hyojin tries to stop him, but Yejun leans close enough to whisper in Taehyung’s ear, “Cause if you’re as much of a size queen as they say, taking Jeongguk’s cock would be fucking heaven for you.”


Taking a step backwards, Taehyung can’t even begin to interject as Hyojin silences them both. “Okay, enough of that. I’ll get this one to class,” she says, giving a pointed look towards Yejun. He just shrugs, then smirks when she turns her head to look at Taehyung with some sort of apologetic look. “I’ll see you at the party, yeah?”


The redhead clears his throat, arms crossed. “Yeah, see you there,” he drawls, watching the two of them leave. Yejun is staggering, limping. It’s hard to tell if it’s on for show or not.


“Taehyung-ah!” Seokjin’s voice comes, bringing him back to reality. Fucking hell, since that rumor, it’s almost like the entire damn world started revolving around Jeon Jeongguk’s dick size. “Did you forget that we’re here?”


Jimin is giving him a weird look as he’s walking over, noticing something’s off (soulmate tingling senses or something, he calls it), but Taehyung’s head is more so hazy. Seokjin raises an eyebrow, adjusting the collar of his shirt – there is a reveal of a tantalizing clavicle, his lips are slightly pursed and he looks as good as fucking always, ugh.


“What’s with you?” He prompts, pink hair falling prettily over his eyes. He then grins a little, “Did you and Hyojin talk about–”


Taehyung groans, interrupting him with a raise of his hand. “If you’re gonna say something about Jeon’s dick, I really don’t want to hear it,” he dismisses the thought. This entire morning has seemingly forgotten about classes, work and, I don’t know, life as an entity, just because of that damn rumor being seemingly more interesting.


Seokjin shares an amused look with Jimin, he can’t help but laugh. “Actually, I was gonna ask about Youngjae’s party,” he corrects with the utmost satisfaction when Taehyung’s face slightly twists with embarrassment. “But seems like Jeongguk’s been on your mind, instead?”


“You mean Jeongguk’s cock, right?” Yoongi’s voice emerges from who knows where (the other side of the hallway probably), looking exasperated by the conversation he just joined in on. Due to his neck tattoos, the school demands of him to wear a turtleneck under the uniform shirt, but he makes it work with witchy earrings and copious amounts of eyeliner.


He blows a bubble of pink gum and once it pops, it shows his face of feigned interest. “Did you finally admit that you want him to fuck you?” Yoongi asks Taehyung, who sputters at that sort of question.


“First of all, I don’t want that in the first place,” he interjects with a dismissive wave of his hand. He tries to appear as unbothered, but his fingers are slightly twitching. “Second of all, I also don’t want to keep talking about Jeon for the entire fucking day. I’ve heard enough of it.”


Seokjin huffs a laugh, tucking his hands in the pressed uniform pants that glamorously fit his long legs. “You’re getting a taste of your own medicine, actually,” he points out, then shrugs. “But alright, fine. Wanna talk about Youngjae’s party? Because I’m pretty sure Jeongguk will be there too.”


Even Jimin raises a doubtful eyebrow at that, though Taehyung laughs as if the idea is so ridiculous, he can’t believe Seokjin even suggested it. “Him, at a party? Where did you get that from?”


Seokjin shrugs again, smile filled with satisfaction. “Oh, just a gut feeling,” he says.



  • chat: brownie & cookie


i need u to go to the new party wit me




wait, wtf
don’t leave me on read!!
istg, jeon jeongguk
imma tell everyone you cried at the end of naruto


i am not ashamed
anyone would cry at that sort of queerbait


okay, true, but !!
pls, i rlly need u to come with


our ENTIRE frat is going


and only YOU know that i want to fuck choi youngjae
i need backup, c’mon
be a good bro


?? aren’t we too gay for that bro thing??
and you know i hate parties


you don’t have to, i’m just asking for a favor!!
but if you don’t comply
i might sell your entire buffy dvd collection


wow, RUDE
okay, i’ll go
i can just leave after you drag that pretty boy upstairs


that’s the spirit!!
and speaking of pretty boys
guess who’s also gonna be there


kim, probably?


funny how i said pretty boy
and your mind just went to him


i have bigger issues
like, idk what to wear??


do not fret, my friend
the time has come
my gay fashionista time has come


actually, nvm
i’ll just ask kunpi


i’m offended
you know what he’s gonna put you in
it’s either gonna be a frat dude varsity jacket
or a chad michael murray outfit circa 2006 


fair point
but you would’ve dressed me like a tim burton character
or a complete fuckboy
so i’ll take that risk


you should at least try to get laid


and what if i am??


you think it’ll happen if kunpi dresses you??


to be honest
he DOES have two (2) boyfriends
and you have zero (0)
so i’m gonna trust the fashionable gay here
not the one that panics when his crush talks to him


i’m gonna block you



“Taehyung-ah!” Chortles Choi Youngjae on that eventful Friday night, hugging his friend and trying not to spill a cup of tequila over the soft cotton of Taehyung’s cropped turtleneck, though his hand does wander to slap Taehyung’s butt with supposed, friendly appreciation. “I’m glad you made it! Your ass looks great in these jeans.”


Yeah, you can never go wrong with tight, black denim, though it’s not really Taehyung’s style – might as well look like a delinquent for a night of loud music and table dancing. “Are you three shots down already?” He asks with amusement, passing the compliment because, well, obviously.


“Not tonight,” Youngjae sighs, he nudges Taehyung to follow him further inside the house. It’s still adorned with holiday decorations from last Christmas, but the tree’s already been pushed over and some ornaments have rolled to the group of loudmouths playing beer pong with obnoxiously red cups. How American.


“Why not?” Taehyung asks conversationally, but his eyes are wandering. He’s trying to recognize a friend or an old hookup he knows will make him feel good for the night, but the night is already blurry. “As far as I know, you start drinking before the party starts.”


“Not when I want to hook up,” Youngjae responds, ironically dawning his tequila in one go – if it’s his first for the night, he won’t even get tipsy. Taehyung’s raised an eyebrow at him as a wordless question, to which the other laughs, “Kim Yugyeom, if you have to know. We all like cute frat boys with big dicks, don’t we?”


Taehyung would have agreed, if it weren’t for the fact that Jeon Jeongguk immediately comes to mind, for whatever reason. “Jeon’s friend?” He prompts. His and Youngjae’s tastes are similar, obviously, and he has good knowledge of all the lengthy guys on campus, but Taehyung wouldn’t hook up with a friend of Jeongguk’s. Too many consequences, not enough of a reward.


“Yeah, I heard they’re coming tonight,” Youngjae says, he looks delighted. Gesturing across the room, near the balcony, to a sofa of people whose faces Taehyung recognizes, he edges him forward. “Go grab a drink. I’ll see you around, if I don’t end up throttled with dick as soon as he walks into the room.”


Taehyung stifles a laugh and kisses his friend’s cheek, before making his way over. Before he can even greet the group of people he wants to strangle half the time, he realizes they’re not baring him a single fucking glance and looking somewhere to the side.


“Does he have to look that fucking hot?” Yoongi mumbles into his gin, an expression of disdain across his face. His silken button down is half opened, a handful of tattoos on sight; black hair messy and unruly, yet somehow effortlessly sexy.


From the other side of the sofa, Jimin – in his nineties band tee and ripped jeans, hugging his thick thighs perhaps too distractedly – sighs deeply, in silent agreement. “Right?” He drawls, lips pulled in a pout. “Can we, like… jump on it together? I can share.”


Taehyung’s brows are drawn together, he turns around and his eyes land on, of course, track team star and absolute heartthrob, Jung Hoseok. He’s in a white dress shirt, nicely fitted over his chest, top buttons undone; black slacks doing his gorgeous legs justice – brunet hair side parted, framing his face over aviator shades.


Whistling, Taehyung’s eyes rake over appreciatively. “Oh, yeah,” he agrees to whatever Jimin and Yoongi were discussing just prior. “Yes, you need to jump on that. Holy shit.”


Jocks are hot, nothing new – but Jung Hoseok, a whole sweetheart with a heart of gold and aura of the Sun, looking like someone who’d make you beg on your knees while calling him Sir? Fuck.


“And no one is thanking me for styling that dork,” says Seokjin, sitting atop the sofa armrest, picking his nails with an unimpressed expression. “He felt too embarrassed to go out with that shirt on.”


“I’d gladly see it off, to be honest,” Jimin mutters absently, halfway across the couch and leaning his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. It gives Taehyung enough space to sit beside him, crossing his legs and grabbing a cup of whatever translucent drink is nearby.


“Me too,” Yoongi agrees with Jimin, not acknowledging anyone else’s existence. He glances towards the one on his shoulder. “He’s pretty rough in bed, though. You think you can handle it, baby boy?”


Jimin giggles almost breathlessly, a teasing look in his eyes, a result of confidence he only gets when dressed like this, in a space of sex and energy. “What about you, hyung-ie?” He asks, pressing closer. “I wouldn’t be the one taking two.”


Seokjin stifles a laugh into his glass of sparkling water, not missing Yoongi’s somewhat choked up reaction. Taehyung can’t even bother with their flirtatious “we’re close friends that kind of want to fuck each other” conversation, tearing his gaze towards the two figures emerging from the hallway.


He first spots Youngjae’s prey–pardon, aim for the night, Kim Yugyeom. Skinny jeans, graphic tee shirt, cute smile with an air of anxiety, the typical freak in the sheets package. Handsome, tall frat boy. What’s new?


However, someone follows him closely behind – and at first, Taehyung doesn’t see the guy, due to the fact that he’s too busy adjusting the tight, black leather belt bound around his hips, but holy fuck, those thighs. Muscular, shaped by faded denims, striped shirt tucked at the front – not exactly party attire, but it looks good.


For a moment, Taehyung thinks this one could do tonight, until the guy lifts his chin, dark hair comes into view, familiar eyes, a habit of tonguing the inside his cheek whenever he’s nervous, it’s (almost doubtfully) Jeon Jeongguk. Golden Boy, out on a party field. Did the planets have to align for this to happen?


“Oh wow,” Seokjin says, he sounds slightly interested. “Jeongguk? Who would’ve taught.”


He knew, of course, predicted it accurately, but Taehyung won’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledging that. His eyes are trained on Youngjae literally skipping into Yugyeom’s arms and laughing, Jeongguk standing beside them with an out of place smile, still adjusting his belt.


For a fleeting second, Taehyung wonders if it’s because of his dick. I mean, the pants are pretty tight, and… well, if he’s as big as they say, it can’t be comfortable. Not that Taehyung is, in any way, curious.


Youngjae looks surprised to see him and leaps into a hug, almost doubling them over. Jeongguk, for whatever fucking reason, smiles, teeth and bunny smile and all that cute, annoying shit. Yugyeom, despite being seemingly jealous, looks genuinely happy to have him over.


Yay, Jeon Jeongguk came out of his fucking shell after the entire university found out about him allegedly having a big dick, Taehyung couldn’t be happier for him (sense the sarcasm?).


“He looks good tonight,” Jimin comments from beside him. “Not my type, but yum.”


“Okay, first of all, ew,” Taehyung responds, pretending he absolutely wasn’t observing the marvelous fit of Jeongguk’s outfit. “Second of all, Jiminnie, baby. Anyone is your type, you thot.”


Jimin laughs, his shoulders shaking and shirt slipping off one side. “True, but still,” he drawls, then raises an eyebrow at Taehyung. He also smells of vodka, but that would hardly get him even tipsy. “Considering the rumor and your insatiable size kink–”


“Don’t even go there,” Taehyung interrupts, but despite all of that, his eyes are still on Jeongguk. He sits at the home bar with some type of alcohol in hand, maybe an old Brandy or Scotch, having been left alone by Yugyeom and Youngjae at some point.


Not for too long, however, as a pretty, blond piece of ass settles in the barstool next to his. Taehyung can’t even bother to recognize the person, just noticing the way Jeongguk smiles in an uncertain sort of way, though it eases when the guy slides his hand over Jeongguk’s forearm, then appreciatively running up his bicep.


He says something that makes Jeongguk blush, jokingly flexing his arm for the guy to feel up as they both laugh, clearly comfortable in each other’s presence. Never, in a million years, would Taehyung think that Jeongguk would get used to a party so quickly, little alone get someone to spend it with so easily.


But why would he care? If the guy is looking to tear himself a new one with Jeongguk’s apparently huge, probably unskillful (from Taehyung’s point of view) cock, the redhead isn’t the one to pry.


“You should at least try to befriend him,” Jimin continues to speak, probably trying to distract himself from the fact that Hoseok is making his way over to their sofa. “Put the past behind you.”


“Oh, please,” Yoongi rolls his eyes and for a split second, Taehyung thought his hyung would aid him, but obviously not. “They should fuck that frustration out already.”


Seokjin laughs again, still amused. Watching his friends bicker is more interesting than the party, where he has no new information to catch. Hoseok is in front of them, glasses tucked at the top done button of his shirt.


“Having fun?” He asks generally, though his eyes are definitely focused on the two cute twinks (not including Taehyung, of course) that have been ogling him non-stop for the last hour. “I can get you guys some drinks.”


“I’d rather have your di–” Yoongi starts without hesitation, but Jimin claps a hand over his mouth, smiling tightly. Seokjin is trying so hard not to laugh he almost slips off the sofa armrest and Taehyung can’t even help his giggle when Hoseok tilts his head, almost innocently.


“No need, hyung,” Jimin says, his legs are up on the couch and he uses his foot to nudge Taehyung in the side of his thigh. “How about you sit with us, instead?”


Hoseok looks towards Taehyung, who sighs into his drink and sits up. “I was leaving, anyways,” he says in an unbothered manner, before Hoseok can interject to that. “And say, hyung. Are any of your cute friends available for tonight? Anyone would do.”


Raising an eyebrow at the fact that he isn’t being as picky as usual, Hoseok contemplates meddling in. He looks towards Seokjin, who shrugs in a go ahead sort of way. “Well…” He trails off, glancing around the room, taking Taehyung’s type into consideration. “How about Lee Seunghoon?”


He gestures towards the bar with his drink in hand and before Taehyung’s eyes follow, they unintentionally graze across Jeongguk and the pretty boy clinging to him at this point. Seunghoon, right? Did we sleep together before? Taehyung tries to think, admiring the form of their school’s famous running back. He’s taller than Taehyung, which is a plus. Yeah, how come we didn’t?


“Isn’t he dating Kang Seungyoon?” Yoongi then asks, answering to Taehyung’s internal questions. Right, dating. No matter how much of a slut he can be for big guys, he’s not that much of a piece of trash to sleep with someone else’s man. Taehyung never meddles with couples (unless it’s for a threesome).


Hoseok shakes his head no to the question, plopping down on the free space Taehyung once occupied. “They broke up, been on and off for a while,” he briefly explains, arm slinging over the backrest when Jimin attempts to lean into his side. “You can lick each other’s wounds, Tae.”


Before he can even ask what’s that supposed to imply, Taehyung catches Hoseok’s eyes gesturing to the bar, where a somewhat flustered Jeon Jeongguk is being pulled by the pretty guy he’s been talking to. As they head upstairs for quite obvious reasons, the redhead flips Hoseok the bird and makes his way to Seunghoon.


Lick each other’s wounds, for what? Because Jeon decided to fuck someone else?


He pauses for a second, slamming the glass on the bar to catch his breath after dawning it so abruptly. Why did he think someone else? As if he, himself, was in the equation of that. It doesn’t matter what Jeongguk is doing within the privacy of his sex life.


It’s more so bothersome that Taehyung is thinking about it so much. Never before has Jeongguk been on his mind so often, polluting every thought he is having, growing to be more annoying than he initially was. What a fucking joke.


Hyojin shows up to the party late, as always, intending to apologize to Youngjae, but the host has long disappeared outside. The room cheers for her arrival, booming bass music and remixes of overly replayed songs seem to do it in combination with alcohol for most people. Taehyung’s not really fond of it, hence he ends up pulling his companion upstairs.


The two of them stumble on the way, hands over one another and avoiding to bump into couples pressing each other into stair railings. Taehyung doesn’t want to think about anything other than pleasure, a need to be sated, a pit in his fire that he wants out by sunrise.


“Y–You’re being too hasty–mmpph–” Seunghoon moans into his mouth and god, he can fucking kiss. Guess years of a consistent friends-to-benefits relationship with the person you’re desperately in love with at least makes for good practice. Though the plot resembles that of a cheesy fan-fic, in Taehyung’s professional opinion.


He breaks the kiss, body pressing the running back into the nearest wall. “Am I?” The redhead breathes out, hands roaming the godsend biceps, amen. He presses kisses to the man’s neck, trailing up to his ear by getting on his toes. “Sorry, I’m just too eager for you to fuck me dumb with that hefty cock of yours.”


Bingo. A growl rips through Seunghoon’s lips and he’s switching their positions, pressing Taehyung into the wall and fondling him between his quivering legs. Thank you, Hoseok-hyung. I’ll treat you to lunch, he makes a mental note, a gasp escaping him when teeth graze over his nipple across the thin cotton of his shirt.


“L–Let’s get a room, yeah?” He says, tugging at the athlete's hair with a whine of protest. “Hyung. Please, I want you all for myself.”


God, he’s such a brat. It’s partially because he doesn’t want to deal with the people currently not even trying to be discreet in snapping photos of him being pinned to the wall by another undergrad. This seems to be a pattern.


The hyung thing seems to work too, so they’re making their way down the hall very soon. Youngjae makes it clear, each party, upstairs is for hooking up, don’t do it downstairs. There are bouts of free rooms and bathrooms (perks of annoyingly rich families) to use. Certainly better than the hallway.


Well, it would’ve been, if Taehyung didn’t catch Jeon Jeongguk pressing his partner to the door of the room he usually goes to.


It goes a little slow in his eyes, almost like a pornographic sequence. Jeongguk is hoisting the guy’s leg up to press their crotches together, distracting veins prominent on his hands and forearms, even if he’s using so little strength. Taehyung watches him ravish the guy’s neck. The same guy who keeps moaning breathily and tugging at Jeongguk’s messy hair, cheeks flushed and head tilted back into the door in pure ecstasy.


God, he looks on the verge of a fucking orgasm. From being marked up.


Jeongguk’s hand is up his shirt, pinching his nipple so hard it strains against the material, making the guy fucking writhe. “I–Inside, Gguk-ah,” he gasps, a meaning that could go all different sorts of ways.


“Taehyung?” Seunghoon brings him back to earth, putting a hand over his waist. His voice is soft against Taehyung’s ear, but catches more of an audience.


Because, in a moment of heat, Jeongguk’s eyes flicker and meet Taehyung’s while his mouth is on the other person’s neck. And he has the audacity to fucking smirk, eyes glazed over as tugs his partner even closer, trailing lips up to his ear.


“Open the door, baby,” he drawls, voice deep and smooth and shit, definitely fucking illegal, what the fuck. He made it look like a whisper, but said it loud and clear on purpose. His companion catches on, sees Taehyung and almost looks sympathetic, disheveled from Jeongguk’s touches.


His free hand grasps at the door handle and the other, tangled in Jeongguk’s hair, pulls him in for a kiss. “Only if you promise to keep making me feel this good, Jeongguk-hyung,” he says, loud and clear. Loud and fucking clear.


Taehyung doesn’t even want to imagine what he looks like right now, what sort of expression his face is making when his eyes catch the bits of Jeongguk licking his lower lip, as he makes the guy wrap his legs around him and effortlessly carries him into the room. Jeongguk doesn’t spare Taehyung another glance.


The door slams shut, with a wink from the pretty boy in Jeongguk’s arms. What the fuck was that about?


“Taehyung?” Seunghoon repeats, sounding confused. “Are you okay?”


Not, he’s not okay at all. This couldn’t have been worse, fuck.



  • chat: glam squad


and so
he wants proof that his gf is cheating
so he can bribe her to break off the arranged engagement
and do i look like a fucking pi???

cotton candy private investigator
sounds cute

then, what happens?
it already sounds like a stupid rom com

i just dug a little into it
turns out the guy she’s “cheating” on him with
is actually his ex-boyfriend
so, i told him about it when he came over
and now he’s been crying about being pansexual for an hour straight

fuck, that sounds awkward
so, she isn’t cheating on him??

actually, she’s trying to set them up together
she wants to break the engagement
so the two guys can run off together

what kind of development is this
omg, a true wingwoman, we stan

wait, wtf
where do you even find these people

it’s them that find me


can you guys stop storytimes in the chat
like, go and get a buck on yt for that
plus, i’m in class rn


you suddenly deciding class is convenient is highly suspicious
are you sick, what’s going on??

he’s just trying to distract himself, obviously
had it rough at the party, tae??

speaking of that
i had to laugh when i got it out of seunghoon
but did you really get hard
/after/ hearing someone call jeongguk /hyung/

excuse me


i was literally ten minutes away from getting fucked
how could i /not/ be hard ??


fair point, but still

hoon said you were pretty rough after seeing gguk
like, took over and marked him up a lot

sounds like jealousy to me

jealous of what??
plus, seunghoon told me to take the reigns
and go as rough as i wanted to
probably his first time with a power bottom


all of that is fine, tae
we’re just saying there is a REASON you got mad
like, idk
seeing gguk with another guy

i mean, you can admit that you want to sleep with him
there’s nothing bad about that


we’re rivals


i think the correct term would be
“two gay dudes with belligerent sexual tension”


he’s literally bi


the fact that you corrected that
don’t you love bi/pan guys??

**hung bi/pan guys

yeah, when they don’t piss me off as much as jeon does
and we don’t have sexual tension


you do
it’s why you’re avoiding him

how tf am i /avoiding/ him??


i literally asked you to keep my company this week’s dance class
and you refused when i told you jeongguk would be there too

lmao, are you afraid of seeing him in sweatpants??


like hell i’m afraid
i’ll come to your class, chim
you better get me lunch for this


[ v.xen has left the chat ]

he didn’t even deny the sweatpants thing
oh, this is gonna be so fun

why do i feel like you’re plotting something

oh, it’s nothing
i’m just amazed with my own ideas

tae’s gonna be pissed, i can already tell
you need any help with the plan, hyung?



Alright, so. Dance class – loud music, sneakers squeaking against the floor, people bumping into each other until perfecting their transitions, tousled hair and sexy, fucked out looks. Nothing Taehyung can’t handle. Especially when hot guys are in question.


A nice thing, so to say, about dance class is that there is no fixed uniform – students show up in whatever they deem the most comfortable, especially those that have a street or hip hop dance style. It’s especially nice to see Jimin ridden of a uniform, sporting some more casual wear.


“You’re late,” his best friend drags as soon as Taehyung sets a foot in the spacious, mirrored room of the PE establishment, where many other people have gathered as well. Lots of shirts and delicious biceps on display, nice.


Taehyung grins lazily, he grabs Jimin by the forearm and tugs him closer for a quick, friendly peck on the lips. Jimin turns his head just in time for Taehyung to land the kiss on his cheek.


He’s literally here, I’m gonna strangle you,” Jimin breathes out with exasperation, though he doesn’t sound that bothered. The redhead catches a glance of Hoseok at the other corner of the room, chatting with some of his friends and smiling so brightly he might as well give everyone else there a heat stroke, because what the hell is that small tee shirt.


Sensing eyes on him, Hoseok spots the two and walks over to greet them. “Taehyung, I’m surprised you came,” he says, greeting him with a quick bump to the shoulder, though the younger is very obviously looking him up and down continuously. Hoseok smiles sheepishly, “Is something wrong with my clothes?”


Tobacco pleated, linen trousers, unnecessarily tight shirt adorned with nautical stripes, that fucking smile. Of course there’s something wrong there.


“Hyung,” Taehyung starts, almost bursting into a giggle from how clearly flustered Jimin looks. Oh boy, he can’t even blame him. “What’s with your Marlon Brando getup recently? Can you even dance in this?”


Hoseok raises an eyebrow, then laughs in that uncontrollable way of his. He just looks really fit, which is quite annoying and sexually frustrating, but thank god Taehyung can’t see his bubbly ass as more than a friend, thus he can just admire everything from a gay aesthetic perspective.


The same can’t be said for Jimin, who unconsciously digs his nails into Taehyung’s forearm when Hoseok runs fingers through his hair and grins again. “Bisexual legends only, Taehyung-ah,” he drawls, taking the Marlon Brando comparison in stride. “I can’t dance because I injured my foot recently, so I’m here to observe.”


“And send us death glares whenever someone messes up on a small choreography point.”


From behind them emerges the bane of Kim Taehyung’s existence, Jeon Jeongguk, sporting something that isn’t the school uniform, no slacks or button down in sight, no atrociously red tie either. Instead, he’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants. A t-shirt and sweatpants.


“You make me sound scary, Gguk-ah,” Hoseok almost complains, but he’s laughing through it, knowing it’s nothing but spoken truth. Taehyung doesn’t really hear him, he tries not to pay too much attention, yet his eyes are drawn to the corners in order to catch glimpses.


Jeongguk’s grey tee is oversize, large on him and yet his biceps look huge, what the fuck is that about? His skin is tanner than Taehyung initially thought, as Jeongguk shows only as much as a nun, but he shouldn’t have reckoned that that he’d be pale based on the fact that he doesn’t go out a lot.


Timberlands are an obviously dumb choice for dancing, why did he even bother? Tucked inside are the ends of his–oh fucking hell, give him a break–grey sweatpants.


“You look casual,” Jimin tells Jeongguk, in order to avoid staring at Hoseok any more than he already is. “Is something wrong today?”


Smiling sheepishly, like Taehyung isn’t fucking there, Jeongguk shrugs and tucks his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, illegally making them slip slightly lower and show a glimpse of an underwear band. “Kind of got bribed by Seokjin-hyung,” he says, jokingly.


Taehyung should’ve seen this coming, just for his continuous denial about Jeongguk’s size rumor, but this won’t prove anything. Very obvious by the fact that he doesn’t dare slip his eyes any lower than they already have.


Their dance instructor’s voice soon calls, informing them of class starting, and upon turning, Jeongguk’s shoulder briefly brushes against Taehyung’s and causes the redhead to somewhat stumble from the impact.


“Hey, watch–” Taehyung is about to say, but a hand grabs his elbow and steadies his stance. Glancing up, he spots Jeongguk staring at him, almost unnecessarily close, pads of his fingers brushing against Taehyung’s exposed skin. He chose a great day to put his sleeves up.


Jeongguk is raising an eyebrow at him, almost waiting for an act of gratefulness of some sorts, the expectancy putting Taehyung on the spot as he yanks his arm away with somewhat of a frown.


“A thank you would suffice, Kim,” Jeongguk drawls, rolling his eyes at the way the redhead recoiled from the touch. It’s not like it burns or anything, right? Jeongguk’s touch shouldn’t be electrifying. “Would a touch of humility hurt your fragile ego?”


Taehyung scoffs, rubbing at his elbow as if it personally offended him. He then pulls his lips into that signature, mocking pout. “So sorry, should’ve I gotten on my knees and sucked your dick as thank you?” He answers, quick on his toes as always, though this feels different than before.


Belatedly realizing what he’d said, Taehyung swears he feels Jimin staring holes into the side of his head. But he can’t bother with it when Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, almost fucking sassily, something akin to a smirk tugging to his lips. Otherwise, he’d already be flustered by sexual remarks, but now – with that life-damaging rumor out – it makes Taehyung’s comeback not only seem weak, but needy.


The savior is their instructor’s voice and Taehyung is pulled to the side by Hoseok. They sit on the less than comfortable floor by the mirrors, Taehyung’s flaring up to his ears and failing to notice Choi Youngjae walking up to plop down next to them. He grins, lazily, teasingly.


“Hey, what was that about?” He says, nudging Taehyung in the shoulder and tipping his head in Jeongguk’s direction. “Are you two hooking up or something?”


“What–absolutely not!” Taehyung quickly denies, almost too quickly to be true. But it is true, they’re nowhere near that sort of thing (and not that he would want to in, like, a million years or something). Yet, there is that tingling sensation that keeps tremendously bothering him as he, uncontrollably, watches the younger male.


“You here to see Yugyeom, Jae?” Hoseok, thankfully, averts the topic and Taehyung can focus on people that are not Jeon Jeongguk in grey sweatpants in this particular room.


“Oh yeah, we’re supposed to have a date after this,” Youngjae chats, he sounds cheery. “We’ll see how it goes.”


Yeah, all of that is fine. What is not fine, however, is the choreography. Hell, are they going to perform at a strip club? What’s with all the body rolls, the hip thrusts in the first, like, forty seconds of the song? Who made this?


From where they’re sitting, a first row view is exactly what they’re getting – and though Taehyung doesn’t usually mind seeing hot guys dry hump the floor, there are three issues with this current situation. First being Jeon Jeongguk. Second being Jeon Jeongguk with messy hair. And third being Jeongguk with messy hair, in grey sweatpants and very obvious outline against the crotch area.


Taehyung came to support Jimin – who, nonetheless, also turns pretty sinful when getting down and dirty – but this is starting to turn annoying. It’s certainly not because Jeongguk’s somewhat attractive, the redhead is just, y’know–curious about whether it’s true or not.


And unfortunately for him, Jeongguk seems to pack quite a bit, if the tent against his sweatpants says anything for him. It’s not even that spontaneous hardness sort of thing, especially as Jeongguk’s face betrays no arousal of sorts, it’s clearly just there.


Like, prominent, yearning for attention. Jeongguk can’t just be thrusting like that, biting his lip with an unkempt expression (not that Taehyung notices any other above-waist particulars, of course), he can’t be dripping with sexuality without a purpose, right? 


He definitely wants to rile up Taehyung, isn’t it? It’s the only reason the redhead would feel so tingly watching him… right?


“God, I love this first person view,” Youngjae suddenly pulls him from his thoughts, the quiet laugh ringing in Taehyung’s ears. “Sweatpants truly are a man’s greatest invention.”


Taehyung would’ve agreed on any other occasion, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away for a single moment. It’s frustrating, a subtle heat in the pit of his stomach, the way his fingers nervously rub at the hem of his jeans, how his cheeks feel slightly more flushed than before. Why? This is nothing new, nothing unfamiliar.


And suddenly, as he glances from between the guys to distract himself, his eyes fall on Jeongguk and their gazes lock. It’s hard for him to process that Jeongguk was already looking towards him, half-lidded eyes and lip strung between his front teeth. He makes a transition, comes to the front of the line and thrusts. Just as a part of the choreography, of course.


Still, Taehyung can’t help but gulp, because his throat is too dry. The sight, their eye-contact, it makes his legs fucking tremble. And he can’t have enough of a sound mind at the moment, because all too suddenly, he’s desperately aware of himself, the fact that he’s turned on.


Fuck no, this–no, fuck, no, no, no, Taehyung chants in his head, but the realization is starting dawn on him. What he just saw Jeongguk do is confirmation, there is no mistake about it. He’s fucking huge, holy shit.


This really couldn’t have been worse. Sure, they taunted each other sexually before (more or less so), got on each other’s nerves and perhaps implied (a time or two) that they should fuck that tension out, but this… It’s too direct, too aware


“Saw something you like, Tae?” Hoseok prompts with a bit of a teasing lilt, nudging him in the side. He didn’t notice Taehyung’s state when the redhead was trying his best to hide it, but the undeniable blush across his cheeks always betrays Taehyung in the end.


“Can you blame him?” Youngjae adds when Taehyung can’t bring himself to respond. “Those sweats really don’t hide anything. I don’t even have my eye on Jeongguk, but whew.”


Taehyung just wishes he could continue to deny Jeongguk’s attractiveness, but he can’t anymore. Worst of all, he sees the younger smirk whilst continuing to dance, something he wouldn’t have done before, but every action is amplified now, a thick air of everything good around him. Fuck, he looks confident.


We all fantasize about those that aren’t easy to get, is what Hyungsik said during the course of their last rendezvous. Taehyung didn’t think of it much back then, knowing he could get anyone he wished for, but it’s starting to turn on him.


Because, as the song ends and several students collapse to the floor or hunch over with heavy intakes of air, as Jeon Jeongguk just stands there while chugging his water bottle, careless to the fact that his shirt is sticking to his chest, collarbones glistening, hair all over the place, arm veins popping and huge dick very obviously tenting in the front of his sweatpants–Taehyung is all too aware of his willingness to get fucked by this man.


After a rumor, a three minute song and stolen glances to make years of rivalry go down the drain, it seems like their games of push and pull are going to take quite a turn.



Things have been… alright. For a lack of better word.


Jeongguk has been doing damage control. In his case, it’s the in the form of studying, in order to protect himself from washes of humiliation upon remembering what he recently did at the dance class Taehyung showed up to. He gets so eager to prove himself, he doesn’t think it through enough, then ends up like this.


Side to studying and making sure his grades stay at the top spot that they deserve, Jeongguk also makes it a habit to drop by the council room and help out with a task or two. Fraternity or sorority members aren’t allowed to be part of the council (the Dean says it’s for avoiding biases in punishing duties), but they can always assist in mundane things.


“You’re certain, Jeongguk?” Says Kim Namjoon, the real life manga personification of a student council president, tall and buttoned up, gorgeous and perfect in every way humanly possible. He sits behind his president-like desk, concerned for no reason. “The office is all the way across campus.”


Jeongguk would most certainly, if he could, give the entire world to this man. (He’s still working on that.)


“Hyung, it’s fine,” he assures, picking up the stack of folder cases from the desk. They’re slightly heavy, but it’s not too bad. He vaguely wonders how many of these reports are of Taehyung’s misdemeanors alone.


Sighing, Namjoon threads fingers through his hair and slips off the round glasses, even if he doesn’t see shit without them. From the corner of the room, by the window, vice president Heeyeon is chewing gum and scrolling through her phone, glancing towards Namjoon with a raised eyebrow.


Suspiciously, she starts, “If you’re about to–”


“The weight of those papers reflects how willing students are to go against regulations, for various sorts of reasons,” Namjoon speaks at the same time, a hand on his cheek and thoughtful expression on his face. He looks towards the ceiling, quite dramatically, “If only we lived in a society that didn’t deem all acts of going against dated values as misconduct, we’d perhaps–”


“Yes, we get it, you’re a philosophy major,” Heeyeon interrupts, exasperated. “If you spent less time critiquing Socrates and more of it engaging with people, you wouldn’t look half-dead on most days.”


“I was actually referring to Plato’s nonsensical political philosophy–” Namjoon rebuttals and when Heeyeon makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat, Jeongguk takes this as his cue to get out of there.


So, across campus grounds it is. He’s ran with weights on his legs before, this shouldn’t be of any issue. Well, if there weren’t so many people he’d bump into, many of which are still whispering in glee about him.


This is starting to get slightly inconvenient, Jeongguk briefly thinks. He can’t really complain, though, with how easier hooking up and having sex has been since the entire Yejun outing him thing. The fact that he may have also (definitely not intentionally) made Kim Taehyung flustered is… sort of a plus too?


There’s a little voice in the back of his mind, telling him he wants to see those tan cheeks flush peachy again, but he tries to ignore that.


And speaking of the devil.


“They can’t give me a strike for something that can’t be seen, right?” Taehyung is saying, being the loudmouth that he is, succeeding in capturing attention wherever he goes. Jeongguk is starting to doubt he even owns a tie at all, though he tries to focus more on the stacks he’s carrying.


Also, Taehyung is just too flashy. Brightly colored hair (which is, if need a reminder, against the rules), untidy uniform, tailored slacks that hug his hips too nicely. He brings up a hand to tug at the piercings in his ears, sleeves rolled up and a slither of a birds flocking tattoo visible on the side of his wrist.


Distracted by the sight, Jeongguk doesn’t watch his step, moves to the side in order to avoid bumping into someone and in return, ends up colliding with Taehyung right on. Papers fly into his vision and he’s immediately hit with a feeling of regret, afraid that the paperwork will get dirty or soiled, which is the last sort of trouble he’d want to cause Namjoon.


“Ouch–still not watching where you’re going?” A velvety voices comes, but Jeongguk immediately crouches down to pick everything up. He hears footsteps and a moment later, a student of black hair and many silver jewelry bends down to help him out – Taehyung’s “mentor,” isn’t he? Min Yoongi.


“Thank you,” Jeongguk says, almost quietly, but that’s because Yoongi is sort of intimidating to talk to. He met him over Hoseok and Jimin (as the three of them have some sort of dynamic going on, one which Jeongguk wants no part in), though he understands Yoongi isn’t as scary as he might appear to be.


People have gathered around them, perhaps eager for something to go down, since this university is apparently too fucking bored.


“Baby boy,” the voice drawls again and polished shoes come into view. After managing to get all of his papers back in place, Jeongguk glances up and spots Taehyung staring down at him with a smirk, hands stuffed in his uniform pants, dangling earrings glimmering in the sunlight. “You’re not gonna pay me some attention?”


Ah, there’s that pout again. Jeongguk briefly wonders about his “pillow prince” rumor – does he pout like that with tear-stricken cheeks, when trying to get his way in bed because he knows any man would succumb to his wishes from that expression alone? (Jeongguk isn’t included, of course).


“Don’t you have enough of it? I’m not giving you what you want,” Jeongguk says, standing back up. He sees Yoongi throwing curious glances between the two, but he doesn’t meddle. Unlike Jimin, who often tries to stop these arguments from further escalating.


“Too bad, I really thought you’d be the type of man to give me anything I’d want,” Taehyung drawls, mockingly. He tilts his head a bit, not able to keep his expression straight, “It looked that way, last week at dance practice.”


So, there it is. People are starting to whisper, phones already out and recording. Jeongguk wonders if he looks humiliated to them, but he really isn’t. He had an attempt at teasing Taehyung, so what? The redhead looked quite flustered back then, but it doesn’t seem to pay off to bring it up.


After everyone finding out about his insecurity (which they actually turned into a kink, fucking yay), Jeongguk can’t bring himself to care about those sorts of rumors anymore. If Taehyung wants to act like a bitch about, fine.


“Did it, now? I can’t seem to remember it well,” Jeongguk sighs, already tired. Too many classes, too much work, he barely has the energy to deal with Taehyung at this point. “What’d you want, Kim? I really can’t deal with your bullshit right now, so just drop it. And leave me the fuck alone.”


He doesn’t usually respond that like, he’d usually be too eager to win an argument. But Jeongguk isn’t in the mood for that. More so, he’s surprised Taehyung didn’t bring up his rumor at all – though the “what if it doesn’t fit?” jokes do get annoying, so it’s perhaps for the better.


Thinking that is the end of it, Jeongguk makes an attempt to walk by, but Taehyung’s voice follows him when he’s two steps behind him. “Ouch, Jeon,” he drawls and Jeongguk can just imagine him looking at him over the shoulder, still pouty as he dares to say, like he can’t even contain himself, “Seems like you not only have a big dick, but you act like one too.”


Some giggles slip through the audience they’re having and Jeongguk hangs his head, takes a deep breath while feeling strands of hair tickle his face. He’s really had enough of this, actually. Imagining Taehyung walking away with a sense of victory, especially after such (pretty usual) childish insults, he feels a bit brave.


“Maybe, yeah,” he responds, looking over his shoulder and meeting Taehyung’s expectant gaze, almost daring. Jeongguk doesn’t even hesitate, “It’s good at making pretty things like you shut up.”


Well, then. That is now out there.


Everything goes really silent. Jeongguk feels the tips of his ears turn red, expecting of Taehyung to scoff with amusement, maybe throw in a short-worded “you wish” and walk away with the usual hot-headed, satisfactory sense of self-righteousness, because it doesn’t take much to make a combat for such suggestive words.


Adding fuel to the fire, he just called Taehyung pretty. An acknowledgement he kept to himself up until now, due to his vehement denial. Jeongguk gave Taehyung enough material to work with here, but–


–well, let’s just say, he wasn’t exactly prepared to see his rival’s cheeks flare up so much they start to match his hair. His mouth is shut, maybe he’s surprised by Jeongguk’s sudden, nonchalant and unexpectedly sexual remark, but there is no denying he isn’t saying anything. He looks flustered, for whatever fucking reason.


Jimin, who’s also been there for who knows how fucking long, looks as surprised as he is exasperated, walking over and tugging Taehyung by the arm. “We need to get to class,” he says in the quiet atmosphere, as a distraction, but everyone saw that, everyone took it in.


Kim Taehyung, for the first time in his university years, got silenced by Jeon Jeongguk and not the other way around. Because Jeongguk said his big dick could make Taehyung shut it.


Hell breaks loose, quite literally.



  • chat: 97’ abominations (+gguk)


jeon jeongguk
i demand an explanation


it feels like an alternative universe
where taehyung is silent
and jeongguk used his big dick to his advantage

mighty min
did y’all smash or nah

donkey kong
if we lose a bet bc of this, istg

update us on how well he takes your giant cock, jeon


jeon smith



Annoying, Taehyung thinks, he slams the door shut behind him and locks the door. So annoying.


He tugs open the buttons of his uniform shirt so hard they were at the seams of flying off. His gaze drops to the bed, the scattered clothes and items he’d thrown over it the same morning still laying across the sheets. All of these little things are bothersome, more than usual, he wants to rip his own hair out.


It’s good at making pretty things like you shut up, he had the audacity to say. The pure nerve of that man, to stand there, all properly styled, prim and nonchalant, shirt tight against his chest and biceps, tipping at his small waist, tie in place, saying such a lewd thing in front of everyone.


Humiliating Taehyung, putting him in place. Calling him pretty, not even denying his rumored size.


“Fuck, fuck,” Taehyung mutters under his breath, he makes his way towards the bed, drops his briefcase and starts unbuckling his belt hastily. He shuts his eyes tightly, breathing labored, grabbing at the covers and pulling everything to the ground. “Fuck.”


Embarrassment fresh under his skin, he hates how this makes him feel, Jeongguk is his rival (or maybe enemy is a better word for it, whatever), but after thinking so much about that dance practice, now this–it shouldn’t make him this fucking desperate.


Belt comes off, slacks unbuttoned and he accidentally trips over his own feet, falling into the bed. Face first in the covers, crotch first into a pillow. A hitch escapes Taehyung’s throat, his boxer briefs are straining against the tip of his gradually growing erection.


“This can’t be fucking happening…” He continues to deny, but still reaches down to tug his waistband lower, hips inching forward and whimpering. Thoughts are clouding his mind, sinful thoughts, because it’s driving him fucking crazy that it escalated to this.


This being him humping his fucking pillow like a damn teenager, putty at the thought of Jeon Jeongguk, fuckhow did it turn so easily? As far as he knows, Jeongguk is someone he loves to tease, fueling his selfish needs of amusement by watching the younger’s cheeks flare upon every insult he spews. Not someone he loves to masturbate to.


“P–Please–” Taehyung gasps quietly, he sits up when the underwear starts feeling too tight. In matters of seconds, his lower garments are discarded and he can’t bother with the open dress shirt slipping to his wrists while repositioning. Thighs on each side of the pillow, he takes a deep breath and rides.


He didn’t see Jeongguk’s actual size, he can continue to deny it, but it’s starting to burn from the inside out. And it’s been a while since he’s had anything more than seven inches, which is a great deal of shame. He’d probably have to get opened up and loosened slowly to take such a size, to the point he’d have to sob and beg for–


Sensitive, too sensitive. Caressing his chest with a single hand and pinching his nipples one at a time, other palm giving attention to his poor, neglected cock. Dirty thoughts cloud his mind, some of them he’d otherwise dismiss or laugh at the thought of, but things have been different recently.


(One could say it’s because Jeongguk’s shy boy complex is suddenly gone and his entire aura is different, more confident and more sexy. Taehyung wouldn’t really admit it to himself, not even now, but there’s time to think about consequences later.)


The orgasm that hits him is unsatisfying, ebbing away slowly and leaving his limbs shaking. He went through it hastily and urgently, desperate to get off because he’d been on the edge the entire morning. Bumping into Jeongguk and him saying what he did pushed him over the edge, in a way he didn’t think was plausible.


Taehyung is realizing he needs more. But, for the first time, he’s not sure if it’s something he can obtain–although, he’s always up for a challenge.



Mr. Park is late to class, which is unusual. Jeongguk tongues the side of his cheek, staring down at his open textbook with uncertainty. He’s pretending to read, but he’s in fact thinking – it’s still hard to quite comprehend, the fact that Taehyung got flustered by such a comment. Did it really affect him? It certainly seems so.


He can’t bring to lie to himself and say that they don’t have tension – of course they do, but he never thought of it as sexual. Sure, they made innuendos in arguments, got infatuated with each other in ways it crosses simple rivalry, but Jeongguk wouldn’t even dream of Taehyung seeing him as… y’know–that. Attractive. Sexually appealing.


“Yo, dude, you’re spacing out,” Minghao calls and nudges him in the side of the head with his elbow. Jeongguk pushes it away, then glares at how his friend put his legs up on the desk. “What’s with the sour look? Afraid you’re going to bump into Tae today?”


Jeongguk scoffs, then raises an eyebrow at him. “You think I will be avoiding him after that last argument?” He prompts, not even cockily. Watching Taehyung go speechless has been as satisfactory as he imagined it countless times before, but the thought of him so embarrassed makes Jeongguk queasy, for some reason – even then, he’s not that proud of it.


Minghao chuckles, fingers dancing over his phone. He doesn’t spare Jeongguk a glance, as if the statement serves no importance whatsoever. “I think he would need a lot more than that to break down,” he says, his words oddly insinuating. He looks up when hearing the door slide open, a grin in his voice, “Let’s see if it’s true, yeah?”


Taehyung enters the classroom, all disheveled and–actually, what the heck is up with those tailored slacks? They’re a navy color, a mandatory part of their uniform, not eye-catching in any sort of way and yet Taehyung makes people stare when he wears them. Annoying.


He showed up to class, which is a surprising feat in itself. Jeongguk hasn’t seen him since their last confrontation, which just made him feel unsatisfied overall – did he finally stoop to Taehyung’s level with that insult? Is this what it is, right now?


“Babe,” Taehyung calls from the other side of the room, unsurprisingly. Jeongguk pretends he didn’t hear it, turning his head, but he catches glimpses of the redhead walking over to them. Wait, what? “Missed me?”


It’s not like Jeongguk could really respond (which may be his luck, since he’s a terrible liar), for the simple fact that as soon as Taehyung bestows that question upon him, he proceeds to sit on Jeongguk’s desk. Well, after using his briefcase to push all of his school supplies to Minghao’s side of the table.


I should’ve sat by the window today, Jeongguk thinks, but his eyes are trained on the frustratingly enough marvelous fit of those godforsaken pats. A small belt keeps it tight around Taehyung’s hips, but there is an obvious dip in his lower back when he sits with his back arched like that–is that on purpose?


Wait, that’s not even the main issue here – why the fuck is Kim Taehyung sitting on his desk?


“You always look like a startled bunny when I approach you. ‘S cute,” Taehyung giggles, all breathy and stuff, his chest trembles and Jeongguk catches a small glimpse of his nipples pressing to the front of the dress shirt, the indoor lights revealing a slightly pink color to–okay, stop, he isn’t going there right now. Fuck, what is wrong with him lately?


He attempts to grab his pushed books, but they’re trapped by the briefcase Taehyung so politely slammed on the desk. Not to mention that Minghao’s lack of manners and putting his legs on the table don’t help either.


“What’d you want now, Kim?” Jeongguk sighs, he pretends to be exasperated, yet his heart is hammering. He leans into his chair and looks up, blinded by traffic light hair. “I thought I made myself quite clear last week.”


Taehyung tilts his head with a lazy grin, placing his hands on the desk and leaning back on them. He goes to cross his legs, which tightens the material around his thighs and makes them look plumper, matching the roundness of his absolutely delicious–nope, not even going there.


“I sure hope so,” Taehyung imitates the younger’s sigh, though with mocking wistfulness. He tips his head back, shirt pressing closer to his chest and in turn making his nipples even more–pull yourself together, Jeon Jeongguk, oh my god. “So, what’d you think?”


Jeongguk’s brows furrowed together. “What do I think about what?”


They’re garnering attention as always, but it’s only worse when Taehyung’s dramatic ass does shit like this. Like, looking at Jeongguk with a meaningless gaze (if that’s even a thing), but then suddenly reaching out and hooking his fingers under the fold of the younger’s tie, tugging him closer and pulling it loose.


There are quite the obvious gasps that echo in the room (even Minghao’s surprised “holy shit–” eloquent as it is), but Jeongguk can’t seem to focus or move a single inch. Taehyung’s shadow looms over him, piercing eyes staring directly into his, lips stained with a clear gloss–did they always look like that? So… I don’t know, inviting? Kissable?


Wait, backtrack, Jeon Jeongguk, he thinks to himself, his thoughts are running quicker. This is Kim Taehyung, you shouldn’t think of it like that, what the fuck.


Taehyung bites his lower lip, then asks, “Wanna make sure the rumor is true?”


The fact that it’s a question suggests he’s not referring to what they’re saying about Jeongguk, but the rumor about himself? Is that it?


Oh, Jeongguk belatedly realizes, unconsciously gulping. He misses the way Taehyung’s eyes follow the movement of his Adam’s apple. He’s talking about his size queen rumor, isn’t he?


In a split second, Taehyung lets him go and ventures into one of those annoyingly cute sort of giggles again. He sounds breathless, actually. “I heard you have the photography class assignments?” He then asks, as if fucking nothing happened. The tie around Jeongguk’s neck is loose, but it feels like it’s choking him.


“I do. And it’s due tomorrow,” he says, grabbing for his briefcase. He wish he’d just thrown that paper out, but their professor wouldn’t be so keen of that. “Why even bother at all, Kim? You never put in any effort, as it is.”


Taehyung grins and takes the paper, his fingers briefly brush over Jeongguk’s in less than a discreet way. Minghao whistles from beside him and Jeongguk flushes, brows still furrowed and entire mouth completely dry. What the fuck is with this goddamn tension?


“Aw, you have no faith in me? I’m wounded, babe,” Taehyung sounds disappointed. His manicured nails tap against the desk, resonating clicks throughout the room. “I thought you might’ve wanted to award me if I do a good enough job.”


Jeongguk, to be fair, does feel slightly faint – and it’s definitely from the morning sunlight blaring through the windows and hitting his already hot cheeks. Yup, definitely doesn’t have to do anything with the fact that this is the first time they’ve got physical in arguments, the first time Taehyung is insinuating at his… ahem–submissive behavior.


Is this still a competition? Who wins which fight? Because, according to their class’ whispers (that include absolutely ominous statements such as “they’re finally cracking” and astonishingly articulate questions like “are they flirting now, what?”) no one cares about winning except Jeongguk and Taehyung.


Maybe, just maybe, their priorities shifted too.


“Alright, class, I apologize for being late,” Mr. Park interrupts as he walks into the room, overflowing papers in hands and some of them slipping to the ground. Taehyung turns to look at the scene of a student rushing from their seat to help the professor, to which he huffs with laughter and jumps from Jeongguk’s desk.


He even has the fucking audacity to wink before leaving, like who the fuck does he think he is?


Mr. Park pinches the bridge of his nose, plucking out a loosely folded paper he seemed to have jammed into his pocket ten minutes ago. “Since we’ve already lost twenty minutes, I’ll cut to the chase,” he refers to the entire class, thankfully not explaining his early abstinence (it’s probably about his cats, anyways). “You are having a group project based on the surrealism discussion we had.”


The one where Jeongguk got completely humiliated with his inability to one-up Taehyung in an argument? Yeah, good times.


“It will account to forty percent of your grade,” Mr. Park continues, an unison of both objections and sounds of joy upon that statement. Their professor brings up a hand to silence them, then adjusts his half-moon glasses. “So I don’t get as much complaints for lack of participation as with other projects, this time, you will be working in pairs.”


Jeongguk thumbs nervously at the ridge of his book. He doesn’t mind working with someone – especially a helpful senior – as long as they both put effort in. Surrealism is an interesting concept, so he wants to see how it fits to his aesthetic. Minghao probably won’t mind if they work together, since their tastes are pretty similar–


“And in order to avoid favoritism and arguments, I’ve already sorted you into pairs. Based on my own thoughts that conflicting views make for a better final result, of course.”


–alright, first plan scratched. Jeongguk should’ve known, for the sole reason that Mr. Park enjoys debates as much as he does, that he’ll pull something like this. Putting your students on the spot and watching them hash out has kind of been his thing for the last two decades, it seems.


From the loose paper he’d pulled earlier, their professor starts reading names out loud.


“Listen carefully, everyone. First, Kim Myungsoo and Nam Woohyun–” He starts, not bothered by the various sighs of disappointment that echo in the classroom (“lucky bastard,” is what Minghao mumbles under his breath, but Jeongguk wouldn’t personally want to work with a landscape perfectionist like Myungsoo), “Sung Jiyeon and Kim Nayun, then Jeon Jeongguk–”


Sitting at the edge of his seat, Jeongguk has an inkling feeling something he should have knowledge of is going to be brought upon him.


“–and Kim Taehyung,” Mr. Park finishes, much to the glee of the rest of the class.


Right, Jeongguk should’ve seen that coming from miles off. Why wouldn’t they be put together when Mr. Park saw how well they get along?


He dares to glance over his shoulder, uncertain and willing to complain until he quickly realizes that it won’t do jack shit in the long run, and will also make him appear as uncooperative in the professor’s eyes (which he is when Taehyung is in question, but it isn’t worth his grade), so he has no choice but to comply.


He catches Taehyung already staring back at him, glossy lips smirking and eyes dancing with amusement. “Looking forward to working with you, daddy,” he sing-songs across the room, with absolutely no shame, sending everyone into giggling fits. The tips of Jeongguk’s ears turn bright red.


“I appreciate the enthusiasm, Taehyung-sshi,” Mr. Park adds fuel to the fire, much to his mortification. Seconds later, Jeongguk’s forehead is colliding with his desk, while Minghao is coughing up his lungs in laughter from beside him.


This will be a great semester, it seems (hell no it won’t, please pray for him).



“So, how big do you think it is?” Taehyung says a particular morning, at the lunch table. He pops a grape into his mouth, expression thoughtful. “Eight, or nine inches? Shit, what if it’s ten?”


“Fuck, we are not talking about this first thing in the morning,” Jimin says, features pulled tight as if that will make him un-hear it. He puts down his chopsticks, suddenly not really keen of egg rolls anymore, which is why Yoongi leans over and plucks one out of his fifth grade lunch box.


They like sharing, of course, their so cleverly dubbed “twink squad” (Seokjin is also a honorary member, but seems like he prefers having dick appointments instead of breakfast in the morning, so he rarely gets time to join meetings these days), but there are just times when they–cough, Jimin, cough–wish a morning could go by without sex talk.


“You should hop on it and find out yourself,” Yoongi reasons, as rationally as possible, munching on the food bit by bit like a fucking cat. His eyeshadow looks good today too, it’s very Musidora meets Edward Scissorhands. But, like, without the scissor hands.


“Also,” he further emphasizes, raising an eyebrow at Taehyung. “Weren’t you denying everything up until last week? What’s with this one-eighty?”


Taehyung bites hard into his grapes, some juice dribbling down his chin. Jimin makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat at the sight, pinching a napkin from his front uniform pocket and unceremoniously throwing it into Taehyung’s face.


“Yeah, but that was before he showed up at that dance practice,” he proceeds to tell Yoongi. “You know the deal, grey sweatpants, lots of… um, hip-thrusts. I thought Seokjin-hyung told you about it?”


Yoongi shrugs, finishing his egg roll and licking the tips of his fingers clean. It doesn’t seem to bother Jimin as much. “I ignore his texts,” the oldest replies, because god knows he’s the only one who’s able to get away with that. “Also, shouldn’t you be at the council room by now? Namjoon said you guys are still organizing the sports festival.”


As if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him, Jimin’s eyes widen and he quickly scrambles to get his briefcase and load of paperwork he just carries around. Taehyung raises an eyebrow, because it’s very odd that Jimin – the goddamn specimen of perfection that he is – would just forget something like that.


“It totally flew over my head, thank you for reminding me,” he says, leaning over the table to kiss Taehyung on the cheek as goodbye. He taps over the hand clutching at the napkin, suggesting him he should keep it.


Jimin smiles towards Yoongi, presses a kiss to his cheek with a soft “thank you” and then leaves, his lunchbox still on the table. Yoongi pretends to tuck hair behind his ear, but actually caresses his steadily reddening cheek, to which Taehyung can’t even help but grin.


“Smitten,” he teases. “I totally forgot about the sports festival. You going?”


Yoongi grabs the last left egg roll, then munches on it as much as the first one. “Not to participate, just to… observe,” he vaguely says, though he doesn’t have to point out that there’s a big track event at the festival, which means Jung Hoseok will be there, his gloriously tan legs in shorts.


Jeongguk will probably (most definitely) be there as well, seeing as he’s a giant fucking overachiever (which is, perhaps, hypocritical on Taehyung’s part, but sports nerds are their own species as it is).


“Too bad you quit the basketball team,” the redhead continues to say, with a feigned sigh. “But at least you went out with a bang, last year.”


Yoongi huffs a laugh into his food, because yes, he technically went out with a gangbang (y’know, after a big win of their last game, steamy locker rooms, four other basketball players, you get the idea), but he also can’t help but notice the way Taehyung is very obviously avoiding the main topic at hand.


“So, are you participating?” Yoongi first asks.


Taehyung seems offended, eyebrows furrowing. “You know I only exercise to keep my ass fat,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing–well, anyone who takes a look at him can attest to that, surely. “I’ll just watch if I decide to show up.”


Yoongi hums at that, noncommittally. “Jeongguk’s gonna participate. Honorary track team member, baseball pitching, individual sabre fencing–” He drawls, then gives a pointed look towards Taehyung, “–and ssireum.”


Taehyung raises an eyebrow, finally putting down his grapes. He weights his chances on wrestling, it’s not really his thing, but ensures some direct body-contact. A good opportunity to tease.


“Say,” the redhead speaks, a wicked smile on his face. “It isn’t too late to sign up, yeah?”



So, yeah, the sports festival. It’s as overbearing, obnoxious and loud as you might think. Their campus is a big one – being the most prestigious private schooling system in the country and all, y’know – and with so many students having gotten there via sports scholarships, one can only imagine how seriously this festival is taken.


Well, in most areas.


“Listen, I love the organization, the design, even the inappropriate looking corndogs being sold by the stands which destroy our idea of promoting physical health with the festival, but–” Namjoon emphasizes, clapping a hand against a clipboard and then gesturing to the spot beneath the bleachers surrounding the baseball field, “–why are the male cheerleaders half naked?”


Jimin pinches the bridge of his nose, uncertain on how to answer that. “I–I’m not exactly sure, either,” he says slowly, trying not to make himself obvious, because wow, those cheerleaders are toned. God bless who ever made that happen.


“I thought I’d do all of you gay asses a favor,” Heeyeon shows up next to the them, pom-poms in hands and uniform nicely pressed. Pleated skirt, knee high socks, crop top, the most stereotypical red and white combination you’ll see. Their design team wasn’t too creative with that one. “And promoting physical health, seriously Namjoon? People came here hoping someone would trip while running or start a fight when they lose a match.”


Sure, their school is filled with drama-thirsty fools, nothing new, but this? “Half of your male cheerleaders are wearing skirts, noona,” Namjoon further says, sounding exhausted already. “Our professors will be watching this event.”


Heeyeon huffs, crossing her arms. “We’re destroying gender norms, what’s wrong with that?”


Destroying gender–noona, this school is already the gayest in this damn country, but I told you before that the skirts are too short,” Namjoon insists, since it’s kind of true. Even if the cheerleaders wear those black boyshorts under the skirts, there’s still a lot on display – which isn’t bad, of course, it’s just a little awkward with your fifty year old biology professor watching you (but hey, some are into that too).


“You’re just being tactless,” Taehyung’s voice joins them, as the redhead slings an arm over Jimin’s shoulders and almost sends both of them stumbling forward. “C’mon, you think anyone will be paying attention to you guys when you put Lee Junho in a fucking skirt?”


Perhaps deciding to put their cheer coach in the same outfit sounded a bit amusing at first, but they should’ve noticed that instead of laughing at the ridiculous fit of the crop top, the public would be more to prone to staring at the curve of his thick behind. Oh, well.


“Fair enough,” Heeyeon agrees, she sighs a places a hand on her cocked hip. Noticing, however, that Taehyung isn’t in his disheveled uniform, and is instead sporting the required festival attire – once again, his lower garments are too tight around his buttocks, but he can’t seem to help it – she can’t help but question it, “Why are you even here?”


Taehyung pouts, pretending to be hurt. “That’s harsh, noona,” he drawls, his eyes, however, drawn to the field behind her. “I’m here to participate, of course.”


Heeyeon raises an eyebrow, then looks behind her – the first competition of the day, the baseball pitching. Jeon Jeongguk in full white, pants snug around his thighs in quite an unorthodox manner, is stretching minutes before the game starts.


“Ah, so you’re interested in Gguk?” She then realizes, an airy laugh escaping her. “That’s going to be a difficult one, Tae.”


There is a challenge lingering on her lips, but Taehyung doesn’t fall for it. “I’m not interested in him, I’m interested in teasing him,” he corrects. “He finally stepped up to my level, so let’s see if he can handle it.”


“Stepped down, you mean?” Jimin says. “Sexual ‘insults’ are still flirting, Taehyung. Also, shouldn’t you be more worried about what happened at music theory class? I swear I thought the guy would come over and knock your head off right then and there.”


Right, music theory class and Mrs. Ahn’s totally inability to listen to her students presenting a major paper she said would be worth at least thirty percent of their grade. Some arrogant prep was making point on the colla parte passages in Bach’s motets when Taehyung pointed out his complete misuse of a term that invalidated his entire presentation, which their professor then noted and lowered his grade.


It may or may have not been because that guy is too often keen on calling Taehyung a “slut” behind closed doors, so the redhead was sort of petty with his correction – he doesn’t even remember what it was specifically, but the asshole’s face falling was sort of worth it.


“Why would I be worried? He’s just gonna go and cry to his rich parents about it, the poor thing,” Taehyung says, almost feeling bad for the guy. “Anyways, is there an afterparty to this, or was it not worth coming?”


Heeyeon grins at that, having expected that question. “The day after tomorrow, sorority house at eleven,” she replies. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Jeongguk shows up just for you.”



Maybe a third perspective is better when dealing with two fools in denial over one another. Ssireum, also known as Korean wrestling, is a staple game for their university’s sports festival. And Taehyung, as much as he enjoyed a handsome man pushing him towards the ground, found himself more than capable in this division.


If anyone asks, Taehyung totally didn’t have any ropes behind the scenes that would ensure he comes to his eventual match with Jeon Jeongguk, no way. And before you ask, no, it’s definitely not kind of obviously needy to want your school rival to pin you down into soft sand, to the point you’d go to such lengths to ensure it happens.


Rivals, actually, isn’t that much of a good term to begin with. Sure, they compete in some things, but are more enemies than anything. And even then, that just sounds as bookish as it is. Kind of telling, in this case.


“Well, this will be fun,” Taehyung mutters under his breath as he stretches for a practice round, whatever that is (aka, an excuse for him and Jeongguk to butt heads in case either of them get kicked out of the competition early, even if it would be impossible with Jeongguk’s competitive nature).


“At least I got a front row seat to this chaos,” Yoongi says from sitting by the ring, on the jacket that Jimin splayed out for him earlier. Wouldn’t want to ruin his illegally ripped denim jeans. “At least try to win, Tae.”


“Who says I won’t?” Taehyung grins, just in time as the referee calls for the two opponents to get in the ring.


They stand at the opposite ends and somewhat bow, not really hiding the fact that they’re both anxiously tingling with excitement (well, they think they’re hiding it–unsuccessfully, however). As they come to the center of the sand filled ring, feeling hundreds of eyes on them, of both their peers and professors, ready to grasp at the bands around their waists and thighs, the referee interjects once more.


“Seems like you never watched actual ssireum matches,” he says, with a fake expression of disappointment. “You have to be shirtless.”


Jeongguk splutters, his cheeks slightly red–he’s not really ashamed, per se, it’s just that it’s too sudden. “We have to be?” He says, not really sure what to feel on having to see Taehyung shirtless–it’s certainly not sexually stimulating, if anyone is wondering.


“That’s what I’ve been told, man,” the referee shrugs, his eyes land on the redhead already grasping at the ends of his shirt. “The rule doesn’t apply to you, Kim, since you have too many… um, traces of misconduct on you.”


Obviously referring to the fact that he has tattoos in not so hiding spots, many burst into giggles upon hearing that, because it’s kind of ridiculous. Taehyung huffs a laugh, he still takes the red top off and tosses it somewhere aside to hit Jimin square in the face with it.


“Tank top’s good, though? Only shows half of ‘em,” he says, just in spite of the professors staring with mortified expressions. The black sleeveless is rather loose on him, dips at his collarbones and doesn’t hide much of his tattoos, but for the sake of not giving the Dean a heart attack, he’ll stick with this for now.


Yoongi, of course, looks nothing less than proud and Jimin is halfway between wanting to strangle Taehyung, but also wanting to just scream ‘that’s my bestie right there, get it baby!’ at the top of his lungs. You know, soulmate things and whatnot.


Jeongguk is sort of malfunctioning, because between the smaller specks of ink, Taehyung has tattoos on both of his biceps. Harley Quinn (fucking Harley Quinn) on his right, then a snake circling around his left. The other visible ones aren’t in his line of sight, but they’re surely giving their professors something to complain over later.


Noticing he isn’t budging an inch, Taehyung levels his rival with a smirk. He could try to be a little less obvious with the staring, but oh well. He snaps out of it once Taehyung moves his arms (the same arms Jeongguk’s been staring at), crossing them.


“Scared, Jeon?” Taehyung prompts, tilting his head.


Jeongguk scowls, he grabs at the ends of his shirt, “You wish.”


“What is this, Harry Potter?” Yoongi says from the audience, hushed by Jimin who nudges him in the side with his elbow.


Actually, yeah, maybe Taehyung should be the scared one now–for the sole reason that Jeongguk, as much as he can be shy, is still somewhat of a jock, which means muscles. Y’know, the nice ones that ripple his stomach into abs, stretch over his biceps to make them look like he can bench press six people on top of each other, sculpture his pectorals, a prominent V leading into the band of his shorts–little things like that.


Never mind the fact that the entire fucking university is watching this, basically drooling, squealing and screaming just as much as Jeongguk’s obnoxious group of friends, who grab for Jeongguk’s shirt like obsessed fan girls when he throws it at them.


He dares to fucking smile, shirtless and exposed like that. Taehyung, now, isn’t sure if he can focus as well–because… well, he looks skinny in comparison to Jeongguk, even if their frames aren’t too different. It’s not that he can’t focus because Jeon Jeongguk has the most mouthwatering physique on the fucking planet, it’s just a comparison thing, okay? (Definitely not thirst.)


“Alright, in position,” the referee says, clearly wanting this over with (to be fair, he is dealing with two people oblivious of their own sexual tension, you can’t blame him for it).


Jeongguk follows the instruction, of course – like the good, golden boy that he is – not noticing that Taehyung isn’t budging an inch. When he kneels, he’s met face-first with the crotch of his rival, plump thighs and all, glancing upwards with a raised eyebrow and only realizing the connotation when catching Taehyung’s smirk.


“And here I thought that I should be the one getting on my knees, Jeon,” the redhead laughs, he flicks a finger under Jeongguk’s chin and watches the younger’s cheeks gain a rogue color. People’s phones are out, they’re cheering and Jeongguk wishes the ground could, kind of, swallow him alive right now.


Unintentionally dirty looking scene, of course. He should’ve seen this one coming (and is kind of disappointed he didn’t think of it first, would’ve loved to watch Taehyung’s expression turn red once more. Not in a gay way, y’know?)


The referee blows his whistle, exasperated. “Kim,” he says as a warning.


“Got it, got it,” Taehyung laughs again, he settles on his knees too.


They lean over to each other’s side, grabbing at the bands. Taehyung unnoticeably (to him, at least) gulps, when his fingers skim over the hard muscles of Jeongguk’s thighs–what the fuck are they feeding him, holy shit? In attempt to distract himself, he takes the opportunity to lean closer to the younger’s ear, feigning a smirk, “Be gentle with me, yeah?”


And Jeongguk, despite himself, shudders. Something about that smooth, velvety voice is awfully infuriating, frustrating, somewhat distracting, oddly nerve-wracking, kind of hot (once again, not in a gay way). Be gentle with me, seriously? He couldn’t be playing up to the rumor more. But if that’s what he wants…


“You can’t handle all of me, Kim,” Jeongguk drawls back, feeling a slight twitch to Taehyung’s body, but that’s perhaps because they have to stand up without toppling over one another. Ssireum is fun, close body contact, and what better than having your nemesis pant against your ear while they try to pull you down? Sounds really fun.


The rest of the student body is carefully observing, not for the sake of seeing who’ll win (it’s kind of obvious with Jeongguk’s hulk of a body), but more so for who’ll go the more drastic lengths to fluster the other (also obvious, but yeah).


Yoongi watches, munching on his butter-flavored popcorn. “I feel like this’ll turn really gay, real fast,” he mutters, though not so discreetly.


“Hyung, this entire festival is already so–where’d you get those? We don’t even sell popcorn,” Jimin says from beside him, it’s a wonder he’s still getting surprised at this point. Anything to distract himself from the fact that this will turn into mess very soon, knowing Taehyung as well as he does.


The referee blows the whistle and several things happen in the course of, like, a minute.


Taehyung attempts to hook his ankle to Jeongguk’s shin and pull him, but alas, that muscle bunny only budges an inch. They push and pull for a bit, hoots and cheers echoing in their ears, a game of who will pull who first – because that means someone will end up on top of someone else. Jeongguk’s too competitive to think about the consequences.


He hauls Taehyung to the side and sends them toppling to the ground, limbs tangled. The referee blows the whistle once again, signaling to the side of the ring of the winner, but Jeongguk can’t seem to really fathom that. Not when he’s on top of Kim Taehyung, leg somehow edged between the redhead’s thighs, knee pressed to his groin.


Gods, Taehyung looks like a mess, hair all over the place and worst of all, he looks pleased. By the fact that he lost. Jeongguk can’t seem to find anything funny about that, not until Taehyung rocks his hips and presses himself closer to Jeongguk. Right, how come he’s pinning Taehyung to the ground by his forearms?


“You’re too rough with me, Jeon,” Taehyung pretends to whine, he tries to pout and yet can’t keep himself from grinning, that fucking tease. “I like to be treated gently.”


Jeongguk feels a little lightheaded, the referee’s voice and the noises the entire fucking student body is making while watching them is bringing him back to reality. He pulls away, attempts to clear his throat and then Taehyung grabs him by the arm, “What the fuck, Kim–”


Before he knows it, Taehyung – with the little strength left in his body, due to having been handled so roughly, even as a part of the sport – flips their positions and pushes Jeongguk into the sand, landing straight onto his crotch. His ass, right over the outline of his dick. Great.


Jeongguk is embarrassed of the noise he lets out, something between a squeak of surprise and somewhat guttural moan, because what the fuck, Taehyung is thick, this should be illegal. If they were in a different sort of situation, Jeongguk’s palms would be all over that, used as leverage to pull the other party in, kiss them messily and fucking them into incoherency–nope, not this again. Not when fucking Kim Taehyung is in his lap.


“You let your guard down too easily, babe,” Taehyung laughs, he leans down so their faces are inches apart. Jeongguk tries to look elsewhere, anywhere but his eyes, yet his gaze falls on the way the collar of Taehyung’s shirt dips, showcases his chest and two pink nipples–fuck.


“What is this about, Kim?” Jeongguk has to ask, yet he’s afraid to speak in case his voice cracks. It doesn’t, but his lower body still feels tingly. Especially when Taehyung moves slightly to adjust.


“Isn’t it obvious?” Taehyung laughs, he moves to press his lips to Jeongguk’s ear, teeth grazing over the shell on accident, totally on accident. “I wanna show you I can handle all of you, Jeon.”


Yeah, Jeongguk’s one hundred percent not okay, what the fuck? This isn’t the sort of escalation he expected, not the response he sought for after getting a one-up on Taehyung. This is way out there, but he still finds himself tingling with expectation.


Huh, weird. Are you supposed to feel this way about your arch nemesis? (spoiler: the answer is no.)


As always, satisfied with his victory, Taehyung pulls back, he gets off like nothing happened. He dusts the sand off the uniform, Jeongguk’s eyes trailing over the bits of a tattoo peeking under the gloves he’s wearing. Taehyung’s friends look confused, though Jimin also looks like he’s regretting half of his life choices, but that’s the usual.


Taehyung turns around, last minute, throws a glance over the shoulder and smirks, “Good game, Jeon.”


Jeongguk feels weird, because despite having won this round of ssireum, he still feels like he lost. So, this is the kind of game Taehyung wants to play, huh?



Heeyeon’s parties always mark either a start or an end of an event, be it an entire semester or a festival of some sorts. After three days of the sports activities, the sorority house is flooded with the student body eager to get drunk, have fun and forget about having to turn up back to school in like, two days.


Hyojin is the DJ, of course, always assisting to her girlfriend’s debacles, such as this one. University parties are… well, a thing. Usually an excuse to hook up with someone.


“I feel out of place,” Jeongguk tells Mingyu, who doesn’t look as uncomfortable as he can usually be in spaces of loud music and flashing lights. They’re both drinking vodka-juice, which wasn’t the best idea on their parts because it tastes like nothing. “Why am I even here?”


“You’re literally the star of the fucking festival, how could you not be here?” Mingyu replies, he sounds exasperated by Jeongguk’s complaints, which covered a range of various details, such as the type of music, kinds of alcohol available and the tight skinny jeans he put him in.


Kunpimook got lost somewhere with his two frat boyfriends, Yugyeom is also somewhere in the crowd (probably having a fucking dance battle, who knows), Minghao is smoking on the balcony, Seokmin is already in the outdoors pool, Yoonoh is fuck knows where, leaving the two awkward hot-shots by themselves.


“Yeah, whatever, I just–” Jeongguk starts, but then hears loud noises from the side of the room, his eyes dropping to a familiar group of people – Taehyung and his clique, of course. The redhead is sporting leather fucking jeans, a shirt of see-through lace, what the hell is that about?


“So, Taehyung, huh?” Mingyu’s voice brings him back to reality. “Still flustered over that ssireum round?”


Jeongguk clicks his tongue, tries to act indifferent and still accidentally clinks his front teeth to the vodka glass. “No, I don’t–” He starts, but realizes he’s got nothing to hide, especially with a close friend such as Mingyu. “I don’t know what’s going on between us. Things took a turn after I… won that one argument and now it’s just… more sexual? Fuck, I don’t know, it’s driving me kinda nuts.”


Mingyu doesn’t, in the least, look judgmental of what he hears. “You shouldn’t over think it,” he states the obvious. “You’re already too stressed over school, the least you can do is continue to use your and Taehyung’s fights as an outlet. That doesn’t have to change because it’s suddenly more sexual. You should just go with the flow and let yourself loose a little.”


Easier said than done. Jeongguk puts his glass down, just when he spots said Taehyung making his way over to the bar–no over to them. His hair can’t be missed with party lights reflecting on the color, even when he pushes past a few grinding bodies and stands in front of Jeongguk, in all of his glory.


“You need something, Kim?” Jeongguk says, he can’t stand the silence between them. Feels unusual.


Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, puts a hand on his hip. Tattooed hand on his hip. “You sure you want me to answer that, Jeon?” He prompts back, taking clear satisfaction with the way Jeongguk’s face turns red. “Kidding, kidding. I wanted to ask you for a dance.”


Jeongguk ends up choking on his vodka and Mingyu pats his back, as the good friend that he is (even if he’s bordering on laughing, to be honest).


Taehyung laughs too, biting his lower lip. “My friends and I are playing truth or dare, so don’t get too flattered. Though this is an easy one,” he drawls, as if it’s nothing. It makes Jeongguk’s nerves tingle with frustration.


“And why would I dance with you, Kim?” Jeongguk says, he keeps repeating the surname to remind himself that this is his rival he’s talking to, he shouldn’t succumb and just accept, keep yourself together, Jeon Jeongguk.


“Why not?” Taehyung replies easily, he tilts his head and glistening earrings come in sight. Gosh, he has so many piercings that it’s fucking distracting by how pretty they are, holy shit (but you didn’t hear it from Jeongguk). “Are you afraid of something, Jeon?”


Dawning his vodka and with Mingyu’s encouraging pat on the back, Jeongguk shakes his head and gets down from his chair. “Let’s go,” he says, brushing past Taehyung and making his way to the dance floor. He hears a distant, familiar laugh, but his head’s a buzz. And the night is young, isn’t it?


Jeongguk feels all sorts of eyes on him, from Taehyung’s friends, from other people at the party, but it doesn’t really matter, he’s too fucking exhausted after the festival to think about anything else. He doesn’t know what’s going on between him and his rival anymore, but might as well go along with it.


Conveniently for them, a slow song is put on (courtesy of Ahn Hyojin), like they’re on an eighth grade dance. More so, Taehyung looks expectant, standing there with his arms crossed.


“Well?” He eventually prompts, slightly starling Jeongguk, who (for the record) wasn’t staring at the tight leather bound around the redhead’s thighs. “Are you going to be a gentleman and take the lead, or should I?”


Jeongguk clicks his tongue, pushing his infatuation aside. “You’re too needy,” he needlessly comments, but takes the initiative and dares to place his hands over Taehyung’s waist, palms smoothing over the lacey material. If only his friends saw him now, he wouldn’t be able to live this down for the rest of his life.


Taehyung smirks, he allows Jeongguk to pull him in, leans his elbows on Jeongguk’s shoulders and sways together with him. It’s better than more rapid movement, where they might risk to step on each other’s toes (not purposefully), despite both of them being good dances.


“I’m glad you noticed,” Taehyung drawls, he’s the same as usual, yet things are somehow different. Jeongguk isn’t sure why, if the tension is what changed or if other things took a turn, but it does feel… different. “Aren’t we partners for the next photography class project? We have lots of work to do, so you should try to get more observant, babe.”


Due to the tone, the lilt of sarcasm, Jeongguk can’t believe he almost thought it’d be otherwise. He rolls his eyes, fingers pressing a little more into the curve of Taehyung’s slim waist. “You really have a big mouth and run it a lot,” he replies, almost as an afterthought to excuse it as a weak argument.


But maybe loudmouth would’ve been more appropriate, because Jeongguk easily imagines Taehyung as the type to have no gag-reflex, to effortlessly deepthroat a big dick, maybe his big dick. The thought makes Jeongguk’s entire mouth dry, fucking hell.


“There’s lots of occupations I can use it for, Jeon,” Taehyung replies, he’s beaming as if he’s read Jeongguk’s thoughts. His manicured nails scrap over the younger’s nape, accidentally, making him shudder. “Curious to see it for yourself?”


Even if he could respond to that (which is a low-shot), Jeongguk doesn’t get the time to do so. His eyes meet those of a male student stomping across the room and heading straight their way, for whatever reason. Jeongguk doesn’t recognize him, why would he, but it seems like Taehyung’s the one he’s looking for.


“Kim,” the guy snarls, he grabs at Taehyung’s arm and hauls to turn him so their eyes lock. “Where the fuck were you these last few days, I thought you went to talk about Mrs. Ahn about that bullshit you spat during my presentation?”


Jeongguk doesn’t know what the hell this is about, just recognizes nothing but anger in the guy’s voice and even if he holds nothing but dislike and begrudging respect for Taehyung, he can’t imagine him doing something so drastic it would trigger such a response.


“What bullshit? You know I was right, so why would I take back my word?” Taehyung says, he slips from Jeongguk’s touch and his face shows sudden disinterest. “Go and cry to your rich daddy about it, it’s his job to fix your mistakes, not mine.”


“Don’t fuck with me,” the guy replies, he steps forward into their space some more and Jeongguk really doesn’t like where this is going. “I shouldn’t have a bad mark just because you can’t keep your fucking mouth shut, so go and tell her you were wrong.”


“Do you think swearing will make your point more superior? Because it only succeeds in making you looking like a kid who just learned how to cuss. Matches the level of your insults, though,” Taehyung feigns a sigh. “Just get out of my sight, I don’t care to even look at you.”


A hand is fisted at the front of Taehyung’s lacey shirt and Jeongguk can’t help but having to intervene this time, pushing the guy back and holding his outstretched arm in front of Taehyung, to keep him from retaliating. He’s not really keen of physical altercations and it takes things a step too far.


“Cool it off, man. This isn’t the place,” he says, trying to stay calm, but his thoughts are running out of breath, he can’t focus. He’s had a drink or two, just enough to make his mind fuzzy, so he can’t seem to bother with his natural instinct of wanting to protect, whoever that may be.


The guy scoffs, attempts to make another pass at Taehyung. “This your new boyfriend, Kim?” He says, like it’s supposed to be an insult. The two have heard this one too many times to be phased by it.


“Taehyung? What’s going on?” Yoongi’s voice joins them, Jimin and Hoseok right behind him. Great, another gay gang, just what they needed right now.


“It’s fine, we’re–” Jeongguk attempts damage control, tries to explain the situation before it gets heated, but there is a sudden tug at his arm and by the time he turns his head, he catches the guy’s fist colliding with Taehyung’s cheek and sending him to the floor.


People gasp and scramble about, making space for what appears to be a fight in the making, Jimin makes a strangled sort of noise and runs to his best friend to help him up, it’s starting to turn hectic. Yoongi fists his hands, his eyes narrow and lips form a snarl, “What the fuck, asshole?”


He punches the guy back, which wasn’t the smartest idea, because the student doesn’t budge an inch and grabs at Yoongi’s shirt to return the favor, before Jeongguk comes in again and tries to separate them, only to get hit as well. Hoseok jumps in, throws his aviators to the floor, attempts to pull Yoongi off before the fight turns catty.


Yeah, it’s a mess. Seokjin just sits on the couch at the corner and sips on his martini while joyously filming the entire thing. Ah, college.



So, here they are. An overachieving golden boy, a rebellious prodigy, a student tattoo artist, a field and track star, a perfectionist valedictorian and an informant, all in front of the student council president, looking like rain-showered mice. Fucking great.


Namjoon appears to be, for a lack of better word, absolutely fucking exhausted, he’s looking at the phone in his hand (Seokjin’s sacred device, to be exact) and watching the transaction that occurred just the day prior at the sorority house. “So,” he starts, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “This wasn’t prompted on purpose?”


Yoongi shuffles on his feet, rubs a hand over his sore nose, which he’s been punched across yesterday. “He threw the first hit, so the rest is self defense,” he argues, but Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose.


“It doesn’t work like that, hyung,” he sighs. “If this gets to the Dean, it doesn’t matter who threw first, it matters who threw at all.”


Yeah, sounds about right. Jeongguk’s not sure, however, if that’s the appropriate sort of punishment–which is odd, considering he mostly agrees with the university’s code of conduct rules and penalties. When his rebellious friends get in trouble, he tells them to be more careful, but it’s different when you’re in such a situation yourself. Even if he, personally, won’t suffer from any repercussions.


“Didn’t that student have motive to swing at Taehyung?” Seokjin is the one who asks, his arms are crossed, almost as a challenge to the council president. “Plus, it didn’t happen during school hours, so what’s there to worry about?”


“It happened on school grounds and that’s enough to take action,” Namjoon quickly interjects, he then looks at Taehyung, who stands next to Jeongguk and is awfully quiet. “After so many mishaps from you during the course of this year, you can’t be surprised that I’m skeptical. Was this insinuated by you?”


Clicking his tongue, Taehyung begs to differ. “He just came at me out of nowhere,” he explains. “I already told you it’s because I called him out during class, it’s nothing I haven’t done before–”


“You already have a bad track-record of misconduct and never suffered any consequences for it, Taehyung,” Namjoon says, almost with an expression of a parent that feels guilty about punishing their child. “Maybe this is appropriate time for a penalty, because you don’t seem to realize how serious this might get in the future, if it came to this.”


Taehyung’s record is spotless, the best grades and achievements the university has seen in a while. And Jeongguk knows Namjoon isn’t talking about minor delinquencies, such as dyeing hair, getting tattoos, altering your uniform or being caught smoking cigarettes, even skipping classes–there must be more major wrongdoings on Taehyung’s part, ones which haven’t been recorded to keep his background clean, ones that could ruin his reputation if they got out.


Namjoon, knowing Taehyung has good intent, never went too hard on him before. But there must be a reason he’s pent-up now.


Jeongguk’s never been the type to meddle in such things, but he also has an unruly sense of justice, which he can’t help. “Namjoon-hyung,” he dares to say, silencing the room. “He… I hate to admit it, but Kim didn’t do anything wrong. He told the guy to back off and he didn’t listen, there wasn’t a lot that could’ve been done to prevent it.”


Seokjin snickers under his breath and Hoseok raises a questioning eyebrow, but Jeongguk can’t deal with reactions, not right now. “I mean, you–you can punish him for the next misdemeanor or whatever, but to do it for something he has no fault in is not fair,” he babbles, like whenever he’s nervous.


Namjoon considers this, he levels them all closely and then sighs once more. “I… I’ll choose to trust your word on it, Jeongguk,” he says, apparently convinced. He’s too easy to win over. “I’ll find a way to sort this out with the Dean. You’re all dismissed.”


Jeongguk feels like the room is suffocating him, so he quickly turns to leave after a small bow to the council president. Nevertheless, he catches sight of Taehyung’s surprised expression, slightly widened eyes and parted lips, almost asking him why?


It really, really doesn’t fit his face.



Here’s the thing, this wasn’t Taehyung initial plan. Like, at all.


What he had in mind – up until the recent events – was to push Jeongguk as far as he could take it. He’s obviously had no difficulty replying to that remark, that day, when strung along too far and winning an argument is always more satisfactory when the other person puts up a good fight, at least for Taehyung.


Now, after not so discreet caresses, subtle glances, things are different. You can’t blame him, however–not only has the realization of his attraction towards Jeongguk been nonetheless mortifying, the fact that he defended him at the council meeting showcased this annoying sense of chivalry Jeongguk tends to have, a vulnerability Taehyung hasn’t seen in him before.


Because Jeon Jeongguk, by all means, is a frat boy done right. He’s brave, a person of sportsmanship, determined and filled with courage, in all the correct ways. Maybe that’s one of the reasons Taehyung’s had so much fun picking on him, making him push that façade down, making him drop that stupid golden boy reputation he has to constantly live up to.


Now, he isn’t sure what to feel anymore. Ever since that rumor came out, Jeongguk’s been different, like weight has been lifted off his shoulders. He isn’t as tense as he used to be, so their arguments turn heated in different ways. After so many changes, Taehyung’s uncertain.


He needs sketching references, so he finds himself heading to the dance practice room after that long day after the party. Jimin promised him to meet up, to help him out by dancing off his own stress and thus helping Taehyung in turn. Taehyung loves watching him dance, it gives him inspiration.


The PE building is silent, dark, no one is in sight. Taehyung, like the delinquent that he is, has spare keys to every building and room on the university’s grounds, so he has no trouble letting himself inside. The long hallways are distantly familiar, but the muted sound of music isn’t. Not this late at night.


Curiosity draws him to the last practice room of the east wing, where hip-hop is penetrating the air. Wrapping his hand around the cold handle, Taehyung slowly creaks the door open and throws a glance inside. A little bit of him expected of Jimin to already be there, but to his surprise, he finds the specimen on his thoughts right in front of him.


Jeon Jeongguk, in those highly illegal sweatpants again, flushed cheeks and sweaty strands of hair sticking to his forehead, is practicing. Whatever routine it is, it looks difficult. He doesn’t miss the door opening and with a slightly startled expression, his eyes meet Taehyung’s.


“Oh, Kim, what the fuck–” Jeongguk pants, he grabs his phone to turn off the music he’d been dancing to. He looks partially relieved to see that it’s Taehyung (and not that ghost they say has been haunting this building for fifty years, but whatever–), though also partially aggravated. “Why the hell are you sneaking around dance rooms at one in the morning?”


Taehyung licks his dry lips, then enters the room, the bag suddenly heavier on his shoulder. Were his art supplies always this tedious to carry? “Could say the same for you, babe,” he prompts, raising an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t reckon you as the type to break ground rules just to get some more practice in.”


He kind of missed the way Jeongguk’s cheeks redden when met with such challenging statements. Breaking the rules isn’t something that aligns with his image, but it does… suit him, in a way. This rebellious, ambitious energy Taehyung’s so attracted to.


“Do you really want to argue right now?” Jeongguk says, hands on his hips as he tries to catch a breath over the rapid movement of his heart, his throat contacting, his Adam’s apple bobbing and tan skin glistening (all unnecessary observations by yours truly).


Taehyung closes the door behind him, the sound resonating through the room. “Not at all. I’m waiting on Jimin, is all,” he says, making his way to the other side of the room. He catches Jeongguk’s eyes following his movement in the mirrors. “You mind if I take a seat, babe?”


Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow, with possible confusion, he licks his lips and after a moment of consideration, he shakes his head no. “Do whatever, Kim,” is what he says, turning back to his music like Taehyung isn’t present at all.


Taehyung drops his bag on the floor, the fact that it’s unzipped causing some supplies to slip out. He settles himself on the ground nicely, eyes trained on Jeongguk even as he makes a grab for his sketchbook. It’s odd, this air of… comfort all about them now, their lack of need to be at each other’s throats like before.


Jeongguk’s moves are fluid, Taehyung notices. To be fair, last time he attended a dance class, he couldn’t really catch glimpse of anything but Jeongguk’s boldly sexual movements–but now, he notices the pops of his limbs, the isolation he does seemingly effortlessly, the way he dances with confidence and enjoyment, something he genuinely likes. For a computer science student, he’s as competent as a dance major.


Taehyung brings his knees closer to press his open sketchbook to them, the scratching of the pencil accompanied by continuous smooth beats. He follows the way Jeongguk’s body moves, the rolls of his chest, the snaps of his neck, the swift movements of his hands, how calculated it all is.


Their eyes meet in the mirror again. Taehyung isn’t sure, anymore, not with the way his body feels like burning under his clothes, the way Jeongguk’s gaze is protruding and deep, sensual when as he keeps dancing and looking at him, like he wants to take him apart, right then at there.


This air between them, it’s different when there is no audience, when there is no one to put up a show for. But it still feels like competition, like who will make who crack first, the pressure is never-ending. They’re itching at each other’s skin, Taehyung feels… hot. He presses his thighs together.


His phone buzzes, distracts him for a moment. There is a crack between them, Taehyung realizes his breathing has been abrupt for the last several minutes when his lungs suddenly fill with air. The text message, yeah, he should check that.


  • chat: jiminnie ♡♡


taehyungie, hey
i’m gonna be a bit late
got caught up with hyung in the studio


you can stay with him


huh, are you mad at me??
i didn’t really mean to be late, i’m sorry :((


omg no, don’t give me that sad face
i just
i’m here with someone already
so you can stay with yoongi okay??


bitch, you can’t just tell me that and leave
who is it??
you must’ve met him by accident
if you planned to meet with me tonight


it doesn’t matter
have fun with yoongi hyung
i’ll tell you about it tomorrow


that’ll give you time to think of an elaborate excuse
you can tell me now


it’s fucking jeon jeongguk, okay


wait, wait
are you two gonna, y’know??


he’s dancing, i’m just sketching
i got my inspo, so you don’t need to come
that’s all
we’ll talk tomorrow


alright, i won’t bother you rn
but promise to tell me all about it??

you know i will


have fun, bby
try not to go too far


Yeah, it won’t come to that, surely. They’re enemies or whatever, even if they have undeniable (at this point) sexual tension, nothing will happen between them. Taehyung doesn’t really want to imagine it, either way, him under Jeongguk, reduced to a whimpering, moaning mess. Not really.


The music comes to a halt, then drops to a lower volume, a blues tune that just hums in the background of the noise Jeongguk’s hand makes when squeezing his water bottle. Taehyung shudders, his pencil halts–watching Jeongguk chug water down, Adam’s apple bobbling, biceps bulging for no reason. Annoying, isn’t it?


“Jeon,” Taehyung suddenly calls, causing him to halter, almost choke on the drink. It’s an amusing sight, but Taehyung can’t focus, he feels uneasy and yet overwhelmed. He looks away from Jeongguk as he says it, “I… uh, thank you for today. For what you said back in the council room.”


Silence looms over them. Taehyung doesn’t dare to look at Jeongguk, until a few fleeting moments pass and he turns his head, locks their gazes–Jeongguk, of course, looks surprised, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, unable to formulate a response.


He snaps out of it, shakes his head a little. “Y–Yeah, it’s no big deal,” Jeongguk clears his throat, runs fingers through sweat-swatted hair. It looks kind of sexy on him. “As much as I hate to admit it, you didn’t deserve to be punished then, so I just…”


Jeongguk trails off, unsure of where he was going with that statement. Taehyung tilts his head back on the wall, a small laugh escaping him, choked up. “I can’t decide if your sense of justice is heroic or stupid, babe. Or both,” he drawls, the nickname slipping as a force of habit.


To his surprise, Jeongguk doesn’t seem that bothered by it. “Probably stupid, considering I got you out of trouble,” he replies, something cheeky and lighthearted about this conversation making them seem as more than they actually are. Like they’re… flirting? Is that the word?


“True. But you know you wouldn’t be able to keep the trouble out of me,” Taehyung laughs again, more airy this time. It’s weird to talk… normally, like this. “At least not with the way you’re doing right now.”


Jeongguk’s eyes, for a split second, darken, the implication doesn’t escape him. But since they’re never in the universe’s best intentions, something does have to ruin this moment of bonding or whatever the fuck they’re doing–because, from down the hall, there is this evident noise of footsteps and a door closing.


“What–what was that? Did you hear something?” Jeongguk’s brows knit together, he turns to look towards the door in order to avoid the redhead’s gaze.


Taehyung’s confused, but only for a second. “Shit, it’s Mr. Song! I forgot he comes here on Saturdays, fuck,” he curses, quickly gets up and almost slips on the damn floor while trying to put his art supplies back in place. Goodbye Jeon Jeongguk sketches, you won’t be missed. “We need to get out of here, pack your stuff, Jeon.”


For once, Jeongguk doesn’t argue or retaliate, he listens and packs the little stuff he had, like his phone and jacket. “Fuck, what are we gonna do? He won’t check here, will he?” He says, obviously frantic.


On another occasion, Taehyung wouldn’t care about being caught trespassing on campus, letting Jeongguk get in trouble, but after Namjoon warned him about keeping his record clean for a little bit and after Jeongguk helped him stay out harm’s way, he feels this need to repay a debt.


He runs over and, unexpectedly, grabs Jeongguk’s hand. “Follow me and keep quiet,” is what he says, then pulls him out of the room. Holding hands is definitely necessary, just in case, you know… Jeongguk slips or something, as they exit the room and make their way to the other side of the hall.


Reaching a door to a room he knows all too well, Taehyung quickly opens it and tries not to make it squeak when doing so. “Get in,” he whispers to Jeongguk, who stares at the small, cramped space presented to him, barely filled with a broom or two and some other cleaning appliances.


“But it’s so… small,” he whispers back, eyes leveling up and down both his and Taehyung’s body, as in consideration. Taehyung feels tingly, but doesn’t have the time to think about it right now.


“Do you want to get caught or not?” The redhead says, which is enough for Jeongguk to comply.


They get inside, silently close the door, drop their bags to the floor. Yeah, the place is small, but they have enough room to move. Then again, this also seems like a conveniently placed point for them to get closer, so why wouldn’t it be an excuse for their bodies to brush against one another when shuffling about.


“Are you sure he won’t check here?” Jeongguk is still whispering, even when he doesn’t have to. Taehyung would like to see his face, still slightly frightened by an outcome, but he can’t seem to find the light switch anywhere. God, where the fuck is it?


“He never does, trust me,” Taehyung replies, the last two words being something he never expected to be saying to this person in front of him right now, but here they are.


“You’ve…” Jeongguk trails off, his voice is full of breath when Taehyung attempts to lift his arm in his search, only resulting in their chests bumping together, fucking hell. “…done this a lot, before?”


There’s the switch, finally. Taehyung flicks it with the tip of his finger, obscuring the small room with a dim, yellow light. He’s met with Jeongguk’s eyes, that apparently knew how to find his even in the dark. They’re facing each other, just inches between them, the air hot and heavy.


“You doubt it, baby boy?” Taehyung grins, he attempts to make the mood flow easier by returning to their old ways, but it doesn’t seem like Jeongguk’s falling for it. Not yet, anyways. “And here I thought you finally got some daringness to you, how sad.”


Jeongguk’s face scrunches, like a frustrated bunny. “I told you that I don’t want to fight, Kim,” he replies immediately, definitive, authoritative. He still looks freshly fucked out, trembling fingers thumbing at the pockets of his sweatpants–yeah, gray sweatpants.


Taehyung can’t help it, leaning back on the wall, putting as much of a distance between them as he can manage, yet he’s still staring. Jeongguk looks the same as that day, when Taehyung realized he’d gladly let Jeongguk fuck him, bend him in half and do unimaginable things to him.


Yeah, this isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.


Taehyung tilts his head, he feels hot from the tips of his ears to the ends of his toes. Jeongguk staring right back at him, something unreadable in those dark eyes, but Taehyung feels like he knows exactly what he yearns for.


“What do you want then, Jeon?” He asks, lips tugging to a lazy grin. “To make out?”


Jeongguk evidently gulps, moving his weight from one foot to another. He tongues the inside of his cheek, looks away for a moment as if fucking considering it, then locking eyes with Taehyung once more, asking, “And if I said yes, Kim?”


That was invitation, wasn’t it? Because there is no other excuse for Taehyung to do what he does next–to wait for several seconds, letting the words linger in the air with all the heaviness they hold, before deciding to fuck it all and closing the small space between them, hands in Jeongguk’s hair and tugging him into a messy press of lips, a kiss.


A fucking kiss. With his rival, his enemy, his whatever the fuck other synonym there is for two people who just don’t get along, yet want to fuck each other.


Jeongguk doesn’t respond immediately, but his hand comes to Taehyung’s neck, his tongue pokes out to pry the redhead’s lips open, slipping it inside and exploring his mouth, all slow and sensual. Taehyung feels like melting, because fucking hell, this man can kiss. Jeon Jeongguk can fucking kiss.


There is a hand on his waist that pulls him in, once their lips turn greedy and bite at each other, leave bruises that will be there for a while. Taehyung fists at the front of Jeongguk’s shirt, gasping when Jeongguk’s knee slips between his thighs. God fucking damn, fuck.


“Kim, what the–what the fuck are we doing?” Jeongguk breaks the kiss, he pants into his mouth, almost desperate for an answer because this is crazy, this isn’t what they do, they pull at each other’s strings, but they don’t kiss, they never kiss.


“Fuck if I know, babe,” Taehyung breathes, his mind is too much of a haze of foggy arousal, of months-long sexual tension. He wants to feel it, he wants to confirm for himself, coming closer until he’s fucking riding Jeongguk’s thigh. “Confirming rumors?”


It’s a suggestion Jeongguk seemingly goes with. They’re past the point of no return, cramped in a small space that only allows room to body heat and lust. Jeongguk moves to Taehyung’s neck, one hand drops to his hip and grips, all tight and steady, just the way Taehyung likes it–it’s infuriating that Jeongguk gets it all on their first time together, like he knows which buttons to push from the get-go, like he knows Taehyung’s body just by looking at it.


“Yeah, of course,” Jeongguk whispers, his breath hot over Taehyung’s ear, tongue flicking up the shell and then taking it between his teeth. “Confirming if you’re as desperate for big cock as I heard you were?”


Taehyung’s knees fucking buckle, what the fuck is that lower register of Jeongguk’s voice, that satoori?


“How about I show you, Jeon?” He tilts his head, feigns innocence, but their hands are too wretched with need to be acting coy right now.


Jeongguk pulls back to look at him, eyes hooded and heavy. The hand on Taehyung’s neck moves up to his hair, runs through it, grips softly and tugs the smallest bit. Taehyung’s breath hitches, he can’t even help it, not when Jeongguk smirks the way he does, “Go ahead, then, Kim. Give me your worst.”


That’s how it ends up like this, clothes shedding and breathing heavy. Taehyung drops to his knees, his fingers are hooked to the hem of Jeongguk’s sweatpants. He’d feel too bad to slide them off right away, so he leans in and nuzzles up the bulge tenting the crotch area, eyes met with the band of the Calvin Klein underwear peeking over the waistband.


How typical, Taehyung supposes, he wiggles the sweatpants down little by little, but his eyes stay closed, lips still pressed to the same area when another layer is gone. God, this feels big. Jeongguk’s cock, barely half-hard, feels big. Taehyung trails his lips lower, the sweatpants drop to the floor.


Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, just as Jeongguk’s fingers thread in his hair. Taehyung glances upwards, he meets the younger’s eyes, sees how they’re the same as back then, when he’d been dripping with confidence while dancing, ready to ruin him.


Taehyung’s hand comes up to palm over the bulge, covered by the soft cotton of obnoxiously red boxer briefs. Yeah, definitely big, more than seven inches, bigger than most of the guys he’s slept with during the course of the last few months, a similar length to the dildos he only uses when rewarding himself. But they say he’s hung, isn’t it?


“Are you a show-er or a grow-er, Jeon?” Taehyung asks, he has to, even when his voice is too raspy, too thick for his own good. He moves his hand in a jerking motion, watching the way Jeongguk’s hips twitch, the subtle glimpses of his abs flexing giving him fucking whiplash.


‘Why don’t you find out yourself?’ is what Taehyung expected, but not a genuine response. “S–Show-er, I think? I don’t know, never paid it too much mind,” is what he says, flustered, aroused.


Taehyung licks his lips, mouths over the head with small flicks of his tongue, dampening the underwear. His hands run up Jeongguk’s exposed legs, leaving goose bumps, feeling the tense muscles of those gloriously thick thighs under his touch. He smirks, “How long is it, then? Inches.”


Jeongguk’s hold on his hair tightens, he sees him grit his teeth, clearly reluctant to answer. “E–Eight, or nine, I think?” He says, as if it’s nothing, as if that isn’t the dream dick size of any man on the fucking planet. Jeongguk grunts when Taehyung cups his balls over the underwear, “M–Maybe ten? I don’t fucking know, I haven’t seen many bigger ones to compare.”


Taehyung giggles, he shuffles a little, already the liking the burn on his knees, liking the sound of Jeongguk’s voice when he talks about this. “But I have, babe,” he says, almost as an assurance, licking a wet stripe up the length, over the cotton, on the verge of fucking drooling. “You’re big, alright. But I can’t really tell with these briefs on.”


Yeah right. He can tell – having been a size queen since he was a teenager, Taehyung’s quickly come to learn how to estimate length and girth even when obscured with layers of clothing – but it’s an excuse, he knows it is. Maybe it’s worth it. After gliding the pads of his fingers across the Calvin Klein waistband, he finally dares to pull it down.


Remember that thing about him almost drooling? Yeah, Taehyung feels like he is right then and there, like his body couldn’t go more rigid with anticipation once Jeongguk’s cock springs out of his underwear, in all of its famed glory. Well, the rumor appears to certainly be… true.


He’s… fuck, he’s huge. Jeongguk’s got a pretty dick, it’s long and it’s thick, a few veins running up the shaft. Taehyung’s salivating, yet he can’t help but gulp, because this is more than what’d he expected to see. There is a shift of arousal, making his entire body throb, ache with need.


“I… ah, fuck,” Taehyung curses under his breath, his fingers are trembling whilst still hooked in the waistband of those briefs, in the color of that ridiculous frat boy red–which, quite coincidentally, matches the flush to Jeongguk’s cheeks. It only deepens when Taehyung leans forward and flicks his tongue over the tip of the head.


The weight of it feels heavenly on his tongue, but he can’t resist it, can’t keep himself from wrapping his lips around the crown. Taehyung makes a slow suckling motion, as if thoroughly enjoying a delicious lollipop (not the best comparison for this particular situation, but you get the gist), watching Jeongguk’s face the entire time – he’s starting to sorely bite his bottom lip between his teeth, chest heaving.


This is unfair, Jeon Jeongguk is fucking unfair as an existence, to be this attractive, this successful and to have a big dick should be against the laws of nature or something. Taehyung’s hand wraps around the base of Jeongguk’s cock, languidly tugging while his tongue plays with the slit.


“Mm, show-er, babe. You’re a show-er,” Taehyung mutters, pressing his tongue flat to the sensitive area just under the head and feeling Jeongguk’s body jerk, the grip in his hair tightening even more. It just makes the redhead needier, “About ten inches, I think?”


Jeongguk presses his fingers behind Taehyung’s ear, grazing the shell with his knuckles and sliding over each piercing. “Are you enjoying giving a thorough analysis on my dick, Kim?” Is what he asks, voice so ragged it makes Taehyung’s stomach tighten. “Cause you seem to be a mouthy one.”


Taehyung can’t help but laugh, he has to ease himself, but his own erection is starting to strain against the tight material of his skinny jeans (there truly hasn’t been a time he regretted his rebellious aesthetic more than now). “I thought you already knew that, Jeon,” he replies, tongue trailing lower and lower. “How about putting this mouthy thing to a good use, then?”


That seems to have triggered something, but Taehyung hadn’t exactly expected to be pulled off by the hair. It’s a delicious twinge down his spine, which shudders when meeting Jeongguk’s ferocious eyes. “Give me safe-words,” the younger says. “Verbal and non-verbal.”


This is happening, this is fucking happening, Taehyung thinks, his mouth dry and eyes ablaze–he heard a bit about Jeongguk’s preference to be dominant, though he’s also pleasantly surprised by the consideration. Any other guy would’ve fucked his mouth raw by now and left him out to dry.


“Kim,” Jeongguk warns, he tugs in a soft manner again. Taehyung still preens.


“P–Pineapple,” he answers, voice breaking into a stutter, the first time that has happened in front of Jeon Jeongguk. The humiliation burns freshly, addictively. “And three pats on the thigh.”


“Good boy,” the praise is past Jeongguk’s lips before he can seemingly control it, but Taehyung’s already far too gone. He attempts to lean in, but Jeongguk cups his chin and stills him. “Slow down. Mouth open.”


Taehyung’s jaw, annoyingly enough, drops on command – he doesn’t hesitate at all, which would infuriate him on any other occasion, but priorities shift when your dick is hard while someone is holding a giant one in front of your face (especially as said giant dick belongs to his enemy).


“Hands behind your back,” Jeongguk says once more, Taehyung follows again, locks them together at the dip of his spine and arches his back a little, maybe just for show. The position is slightly uncomfortable, but the burn is delicious.


Taehyung watches the way Jeongguk wraps his own hand around his cock, the veins running upside his arm, his biceps bulging for no reason once again. He strokes himself once, twice, then presses the head to Taehyung’s lips and slowly drags it all across, top to bottom.


Is this what they call karma, getting a taste of your own medicine? Because Jeongguk turns out to be a fucking tease.


How did it come to this, again? How did it come to Taehyung being cramped in a small room with his enemy, minutes away from sucking him off? There must be a miscalculation somewhere.


“You’re hard, huh?” Jeongguk says, he raises an eyebrow and a second later, Taehyung feels the heel of Jeongguk’s foot pressing into his crotch. His breath hitches, eyes screwing shut, because the pleasure is brief and yet so, so relieving. “I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?”


Taehyung smirks, licking over his top lip, where the head of Jeongguk’s cock left a trail of his own saliva. “I thought that it’s established that I’m kind of a needy bitch when it comes to a big dick,” he drawls, their eyes lock again. “It’s not because of you, Jeon, so don’t be too flattered.”


Jeongguk rolls his eyes, yet he can’t help but huff a small laugh. “Let’s see if you can still say that after your throat is sore from my cock,” he says, the words coming too naturally for him, too easy for someone who presents as a prude. “How about it, Kim?”


Taehyung grins, he comes closer to press into Jeongguk’s foot, to lick up the underside of Jeongguk’s cock. “Mm, try me, Jeon.”


The head slips inside easy, Taehyung’s held in one place by Jeongguk fisting his hair with both hands, easing more and more of his length inside. It’s a slow, torturous pace, but it also feels oddly… considerate? Like Jeongguk doesn’t want to hurt him. With his giant cock.


(This is really starting to sound more ridiculous the more Taehyung thinks about it.)


Halfway inside, Taehyung’s eyes are brimming with tears, the corners of his mouth are burning from the stretch, but he likes it. Call him a slut, if you will, but Taehyung fucking loves sucking dick. There is that immense sort of satisfaction he gets from pleasuring his partner, driving them nuts with his mouth–things are a little different, however, when being handled like this.


“Open wider, Kim,” Jeongguk drawls, but it’s not even condescending, like he can’t bring himself to act like a jerk in this current situation. He prompts Taehyung’s jaw open by gently grabbing it, eyes dark. “Just like that.”


Taehyung feels the heel rub up and down his arousal, it’s driving him fucking insane. If you asked him five or six months ago, what’d he do with Jeongguk’s dick in his mouth, he would’ve responded without a second of hesitation that he’d bite it off–but now, he finds himself relaxing his throat, taking more of it, enjoying how it fills him up.


Jeongguk’s stroking his chin with one hand, pulling him in by the hair with the other. He occasionally strokes behind his ear, like he’s tucking Taehyung’s hair, making small and shallow thrusts with only half of his length inside. The fact that he thinks it’s enough to satisfy both of them frustrates Taehyung to the point that he inches himself forward, taking matters into his own hands (or mouth, in this case).


“Fuck–Kim, wait,” Jeongguk groans, that surname falls sinfully from his lips. He gives Taehyung a particular look, “You sure you can take all of it?”


It seems like no one else has before, which spurs Taehyung on even more, making him eager to be the first to show Jeongguk how good that can feel – it almost feels like has a one-up on him, oddly enough. But this isn’t a competition, not with Taehyung on his knees like this.


Nodding (as well as one can nod with a mouth full of cock), Taehyung confirms and bobs his head in encouragement, feeling saliva drip to his chin from how messy he’s getting–and he usually isn’t, unless desperate, unless so needy he can’t bare it anymore, just wanting to get fucked properly.


Jeongguk, thankfully, takes his word for it – he waits for a little bit, thrusts still shallow, perhaps waiting for Taehyung to use the safe word, but he eventually caves. When he takes a handful of red hair, Taehyung only has a second to brace himself before he’s stuffed, head yanked forward and holy shit.


Tears definitely spill, but the fact that Jeongguk – who appears to be a fucking overachiever even in sex – is steadily rubbing a foot across his erection is enough of a distraction for the burning sensation in Taehyung’s throat. Here’s the thing though–he loves it. It’s so, so satisfying, to feel Jeongguk tremble with so much pleasure he can’t formulate a proper sentence, even.


Their eyes lock and even through tears, Taehyung sees a question in Jeongguk’s gaze–more? He nods and moves his head on his own accord, hallowing out his cheeks and putting his tongue to good use, at which point Jeongguk turns frantic and just thrusts.


Frustratingly enough, he isn’t like most of the guys Taehyung’s slept with–he doesn’t thrust one, twice, then finishes, no. He takes his fucking time, easing himself into it and then turning rougher. Once he removes his foot, Taehyung makes a gurgled noise of disproval against his cock.


Jeongguk chuckles–breathless and all, fuck–tugging at Taehyung’s earring as warning. “Touch yourself, Kim,” he says, almost as if he’s giving fucking permission. “Wanna see you come while you suck me off.”


It’s not as if Taehyung’s listening to a command (of course not), he’s just as eager to get himself off as anyone would be in his current situation. Jeongguk waits for him to hastily undo his belt, zip down his trousers and pull his dick out from the band of his underwear, not even bothering to take anything off.


And for a lack of better word, Jeon Jeongguk proceeds to fucking ruin him.


He fucks his mouth like there’s nothing more important, nothing more gratifying than taking Taehyung apart by making him realize yeah, he’s actually sucking his enemy’s dick and he’s fucking enjoying it. Time slows down and then fastens all at once, his cheeks tear-stained, mouth sore, knees bruised, yet the redhead wants more.


Taehyung tried to move his head at first, but gave up after Jeongguk turned out to be more than capable in fucking his mouth properly, instead just focusing on jerking himself off, pressing a steady finger to the slit or tightly wrapping a hand around the base to prevent himself from coming–not until his mouth is full.


As if conveniently, Jeongguk eventually does ask, “Can–can I–fuck–can I come in your mouth?” Like the eloquent gentleman that he is and Taehyung, once more, only nods.


He lets himself go, one hand braced on Jeongguk’s thigh, feeling the younger twitch when hit by his orgasm and spilling into his mouth. Taehyung’s world goes blank, eyes screw shut when climaxing, cum rolling down his cock and collecting where he has his hand wrapped around the base.


Jeongguk ends up pulling out halfway, stroking himself while finishing the rest off on Taehyung’s face–droplets of cum on his cheeks, his lips, his spit-slicken chin, everywhere. Taehyung keeps his mouth open, catching the last few drops and then swallowing without hesitation–it doesn’t taste bad to him, fortunately.


When he comes back to his senses, Jeongguk’s stroking his hair, leaning against the wall and panting. He looks fucking unbelievable, especially when his eyes drop down on the redhead, pressing his thumb over Taehyung’s bottom lip.


“Well, Kim,” he drawls, with a lazy smile, looking like a walking wet dream. “Seems like the rumor’s true after all, hm?”


Hell yeah it is. And Kim Taehyung is, officially, in so much trouble.



  • chat: 97’ abominations (+gguk)


donkey kong
jeon jeongguk
care to explain the bruise on your neck


you mean a hickey
it’s literally red


jeon smith
not a hickey


i thought you went to the studio last night
to practice n all

i didn’t know that was a hotspot for hookups??


jeon smith
it’s not
i didn’t go to the studio last night
i went to town, that’s all


mighty min
why do i feel like you’re lying to us

donkey kong
that’s because he is
c’mon gguk
you can tell us if it’s someone from school

jeon smith
it’s not, it was some guy at a bar
a bathroom blowjob


just a blowjob??
but the hickey is on your neck??


jeon smith
ever heard of foreplay?? making out??
i thought you were the one with two (2) boyfriends bam


just cause he has two doesn’t mean he’s getting any


yugyeom, you literally still stutter around youngjae
take several seats

at least i got some ass
so who’s the real winner here??


jeon smith
and y’all call me the slut


donkey kong
still technically true
you’ve kinda went off since that rumor came out



jeon smith
i literally just had sex with like
maybe four or five people


still more than kunpi

i will cut you


jeon smith
it was hard for me to hookup in school before
bc of… y’know


mighty min
bc of your giant dick?? Yeah
it’s fine gguk
it’s not a bad thing to sleep with how many people as you want

jeon smith
even if you don’t like them??


??? yes ???
not liking someone doesn’t mean you don’t have good tension


jeon smith
yeah, okay
i agree

why did that sound sus
are you not telling us smth jeon


jeon smith
why don’t we go back to you not getting any dick


imma leave this group istg

do us that favor, at least

none of y’all are getting invitations to next year’s halloween party

jeon smith
yug and i are frat members
we’re kind of obligated to come to wang jackson parties


since when do you even like parties??


jeon smith
new year new me, ig

bitch, it’s literally march??


jeon smith
new st. patrick’s day new me??


scratch what i said before
i’m leaving the fucking planet

donkey kong
seriously tho, gguk
you can tell us everything yanno??


jeon smith
yeah, ik
noting happened tho
trust me



“So,” Taehyung starts at the lunch table with his friends, picking up his fork. “I sucked Jeongguk’s dick last night.”


Jimin ends up inhaling his detox juice and Yoongi promptly hands him a napkin in return, though with somewhat of a shaky hand. Seokjin puts down his sixth chicken wing and finally tears his gaze from his phone, only to give Taehyung a suspicious sort of look.


“Excuse me?” He says, as if Taehyung offended him personally. “Would you please repeat that?”


Taehyung rolls his eyes, but there is a steady flush creeping up his cheeks. “Last night, I went to the dance practice studio, we had to hide from Mr. Song and I ended up having his dick in my mouth,” he explains, wanting to get out there. He’s never been the type to hide such things from his friends.


“You–wait, wait,” Jimin says, he’s apparently recovered from the juice going up his sinuses, but is still holding a napkin to his mouth like some overdramatically surprised Victorian lady. “You–you’re kidding, right?”


“Nope,” Taehyung answers, popping a piece of grilled asparagus into his mouth. “It just happened, I don’t know. We didn’t go any further than that.”


Yoongi raises an eyebrow, he doesn’t seem to buy the act Taehyung’s putting on, making it seem like this wasn’t a big deal and didn’t affect him at all. But being a considerate friend, he doesn’t bring it up (for now), instead just asking, “Did he make you bust one too, at least?”


Taehyung tongues the inside of his cheek, then nods. “Yeah,” he responds, grabbing at the nearby water bottle like his life depends on it. He’s starting to blush even more now, great.


“So, did he return the favor?” Yoongi presses, as if it’s of particular importance for him to know. “Sucked you off too? Gave you a hand job?”


Taehyung, for some reason, is starting to turn flustered. He really, really doesn’t want to talk about this. “No, it wasn’t like that, I just–” He starts, then stops himself and just makes a vague, barely meaningful hand gesture, expecting of it to explain everything.


It seems to have sunk in for Seokjin. “Wait, you came just from sucking him off?” He says, both eyebrows now raising, as well as his tone. Taehyung throws an asparagus piece at him, because people started to turn heads towards their table. “How good is he?”


“I jerked myself off, it’s not like it was just that, I–” Taehyung attempts to explain, but all words are failing. Just thinking about what happened last night is making him queasy, even if he made quite an exit – pushed Jeongguk up the wall and made one final mark on his neck, as if he was declaring fucking victory or something, then left with nothing but a ‘see you, baby boy’ and a hurt pride.


It’s been hard to wrap his head around the entire thing. “So, are the rumors true?” Jimin then asks, he sounds way too curious for his own good. “His… well, size?”


“Unfortunately,” Taehyung sighs, like it physically drains him to think about it–which is sort of true, because he still thinks it’s absolutely unfair to both him and the rest of the world for the rumor to be true. “He’s–yeah, hung. No other way about it.”


“So, that part’s true,” Yoongi says, as if someone just told him it’s going to rain tomorrow. “Is he a Dom?”


Taehyung bites his lip, memories pouring into his vision, being called a good boy, asked for safe-words, being given instruction for the littlest of things, having his mouth thoroughly fucked that his throat is still aching–yeah, that is possibly, kind of, Dom behavior.


“I guess,” is what he responds, however, not really keen on revealing everything just yet. “Can we just, I don’t know, move on from this?”


Seokjin laughs, as if the mere idea is ridiculous. “You tell us this and expect to just move on?” He says, eyebrow raised. “Taehyung, honey, to me it just sounds like you tried something with him and didn’t succeed. You only cracked him a little.”


Yoongi and Jimin side-glance each other, because this sounds like a challenge–aka, the easiest way to trap Taehyung into going along with whatever bullshit you spew, in order to better mankind. Sounds fun.


“We’ll see about that,” Taehyung huffs, uncapping his water and tightly gripping the bottle. God, he hates that he’s curious about it, but he is–what else does Jeongguk have in store, he wonders?



Meanwhile, Jeon Jeongguk is doing about as well as you’d imagine–simply said, he’s freaking the fuck out.


Yesterday, unprompted, absolutely uncalled for, he fucked Kim Taehyung’s mouth. Kim Taehyung, let me repeat. Which wouldn’t be an issue if they weren’t… let’s see, I don’t know, enemies? Pushing aside the fact that they seem to be sexually combatable (of fucking course), they’ve just crossed a huge boundary between them.


Now, thinking back on all of their insults, on how many times Taehyung’s referenced them having sex during an argument just to make Jeongguk fluster–yeah, all of that sounds different now that he knows how Taehyung’s lips feel around his cock.


It pains Jeongguk to think that it was fucking amazing. It’s infuriating.


“Hello? Earth to Jeongguk?” Yugyeom’s voice brings him back, just prior to a piece of bread hitting him square in the face. “What’s with you? You’ve been spacing out for a while now.”


Jeongguk feels the bread slide down his face and plop into his green salad with olive oil dressing (it also has lemon zest because, y’know, health nut). “Nothing, just thinking about my business management thesis,” he says, figuring his friends would buy a studying excuse. He throws the piece of bread back at Yugyeom. “You should think about more than your new football game.”


“As if,” Seokmin laughs. “C’mon, the kid’s in love, let him have a break.”


“We’re the same fucking age, Seokmin.”


They banter, like always, so Jeongguk doesn’t pay it too much mind until he feels two cold hands suddenly drop the sides of his neck, causing him to nearly jump from his seat.


“Damn, babe, you’re such a scaredy-cat,” a familiar voice drawls, just as a very distracting piece of ass seats itself right beside Jeongguk’s lunch tray. Eyes twinkling, Kim Taehyung appears to be fucking ecstatic. “Instead of being happy to see me, you’re scared.”


Jeongguk gulps, eyes drawn to the line of Taehyung’s back only for a split second. “You can’t blame me, can you, Kim?” He says, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Now, would you move your ass off the table? I’m trying to have a meal here.”


Taehyung pouts, his lips suddenly more plump and red, just how they looked wrapped around–nope, not this again. “But I thought your health-conscious ass liked peaches for lunch?” He prompts. “Isn’t it juicy enough for you?”


Kunpimook chokes on his drink for beside him and Jeongguk feels about the same as everyone else at the table–mildly turned out. Is he past the phase of denying Taehyung has the most delicious piece of ass on this campus? Yes. Doesn’t mean he has to like admitting that to himself.


“I don’t know, Kim,” Jeongguk responds, he crosses his arms and pretends to shrug with absolute nonchalance. “Haven’t had a taste of it yet.”


The way Taehyung’s lips quirk suggest he was gladly expecting such a response, while Minghao (still very eloquent, thank you very much) is cursing into his sandwich from across the table, saying something along the lines of “holy shit, what the fuck.”


Taehyung pulls out something from the pocket of his very nicely fitted trousers–ahem, something that appears to be keys attached to a locket. He drops it by Jeongguk’s food tray. “Here, you forgot this last night,” he says, without context, without explanation, which goes over as well as you’d expect.


“Last night?” Many voices around them repeat and Jeongguk, on the fact that he’s not good at covering up any bodily reaction (in this case, blushing in the color that resembles a tomato), gulps heavily, rendered speechless–he can’t really deny it because something did happen, but it’s not what everyone thinks.


Oh god, if he could only strangle Kim Taehyung right then and there (but not sexily, y’know?).


“Thanks,” he says through grit teeth, fingers clenching harshly around his keys. “Did we go over all of the details on the photography project last night? I hope we didn’t miss anything.”


Taehyung takes the hint, of course, but doesn’t use it as much. “Oh yeah, we had a hard and long conversation about it,” he drawls, leaning his hands back on the table, making a scene once again. Is it in his nature to be dramatic? Probably. “I think we still need to go over a few things, though.”


As soon as those words slip, Taehyung dips down and presses his lips incredibly close to Jeongguk’s ear. “Applied arts classroom, third floor, after fourth period,” he whispers, voice too low and too sultry (as fucking always). “See you there, Jeon.”


With that said, he’s off the table and blowing him a kiss goodbye before walking to his own friends to bother someone else instead. Jeongguk tongues the inside of his cheek again, annoyed and kind of aroused, pent-up. So this is the game Taehyung wants to play? So be it.



Jeongguk’s bag hits the floor as soon as he’s in the empty classroom, hand working fast at locking the door behind him. The windows are too broad and bring too much sunlight into the room, but it’s too high up for anybody to see them together, which is good because they shouldn’t be together now, nor ever, not like this.


Taehyung’s sitting on one of the desks, legs crossed and swinging as he whistles and looks out the window as if he didn’t hear Jeongguk enter. Classrooms for smaller courses look like regular high school classrooms, due to a lower number of students attending (i.e. photography or applied arts), so the place feels cramped compared to a lecture hall. But maybe that’s just him.


“What the fuck was that about, Kim?” Jeongguk snaps, he’s been enduring the teasing and questions of his friends for the last four hours because of Taehyung’s lunchroom antics. “Do you want the entire school to know we fucked?”


Taehyung finally looks at him, head lolled to the side. “We didn’t fuck though, Jeon. Not yet, at least,” he laughs, the mere suggestion of them possibly going all the way in the future sending tingles down Jeongguk’s spine. “Just wanted to get you a little angry so you can be rougher, babe.”


Jeongguk feels like he’s suffocating, loosely tugging his rogue tie open as he takes steps towards Taehyung. The redhead doesn’t even flinch when hands are slammed on either side of his hips at the desk. “Be rougher with what, Kim?” Jeongguk asks, voice dropping again.


Taehyung hates that he likes the way this is turning about, but he fucking loves it. “Y’know with what, Jeon,” he smiles, bringing his hands up and running them through that dark hair, tugging Jeongguk inwards to grab the lobe of his ear between his lips, to whisper, “With me.”


A low groan escapes Jeongguk, one of his hand slides up Taehyung’s back and tugs the shirt out of the confinement of his slacks. A cold hand presses over Taehyung’s skin, making his back arch and shudder. “Oh, so that’s it? You were just being needy again?” Jeongguk asks, breath warm on Taehyung’s neck. “Is that why you left that mark on me? To remind me to return the favor?”


Taehyung’s hot all over, he feels like burning, but he can’t help but be a brat about it. “You think you can make me feel that good, Jeon?” He retorts, head tilting some more to bare his neck as an invitation. “I’d like to see you try.”


Challenging statements seem to work for both of them, because next thing Taehyung knows is that his chest is met with the surface of the desk, feet on the ground and legs spread as Jeongguk’s hand works on undoing his godforsaken belt. With a thrust forward, Jeongguk settles his erection between Taehyung’s cheeks through several layers of clothing.


Fuck, he still feels big, Taehyung swears he might end up drooling on the table. His hands grasp at the edges of it when Jeongguk’s other hand suddenly grabs at the uniform shirt where it’s over his lifted hips. Button by button goes open – because Jeongguk is still fucking diligent – and then Taehyung’s nipples meet the cold desk surface, making him whimper.


“You’re more sensitive than I thought, Kim,” Jeongguk comments from behind him, pulling the pants down and humping against him again. His lips press to Taehyung’s exposed nape, kissing right over his diamond tattoo. “What’re your safe words?”


Taehyung can’t seem to focus on a lot with Jeongguk’s palms squeezing his thighs. “P–Pineapple and three taps,” he answers automatically. He really, really needs to get off.


“Good,” Jeongguk mumbles, suckling over that particular, small tattoo. Something about it is just so Taehyung, he can’t even describe it–diamond in the rough, is it? He trails his hands upwards, slips a few fingers under Taehyung’s rather skimpy briefs (which are too much of a vastly coincidence to be wearing in these circumstances). “How about that meal, Kim?”


God, this is fucking happening, Taehyung thinks, partially frustrated with himself that he looked forward to this. He tilts his head and slips one hand to his underwear, grabbing at the waistband and tugging it down to reveal his ass–you know, the peach that’s got the entire campus turning heads? Yeah, that one.


Having the nerve, Taehyung even gives Jeongguk an innocent smile, saying, “Eat well, Jeon.”


As ridiculous as it may sound, Jeongguk feels himself harden. He curses under his breath and then straightens back up to see the sight beneath him and fuck–he’s gripping Taehyung’s lower thighs, right where the cheeks fall and make a crease, his buttocks fucking luscious. Skin tan like the rest of him, full, he’s thick.


This should be illegal, what is this? Jeongguk’s rendered breathless, but he still drops to his knees (for Kim Taehyung, lord have mercy), lips immediately pressed where his hands were, because those wander up to those glorious cheeks and squeeze. That elicits a gasp from Taehyung, who immediately bucks his hips.


“Stay still,” Jeongguk says, biting slightly on the skin and feeling Taehyung squirm, but comply to his request. The skin blooms red under Jeongguk’s teeth, but he then takes notice of the two tattoos on the back of Taehyung’s thighs – on the left, crashing waves; on the right, wind blowing. Probably represents water and air, even if Taehyung himself is more of a fire type.


Kneading the soft flesh in his hands, Jeongguk parts the cheeks slowly and in view comes a pretty, pink hole. The skin around it is smooth when Jeongguk runs his thumb over the surface, the rim clenching in need of attention. How cute.


Taehyung feels like he’s dizzy, chest heaving and causing his nipples to continuously rub over the desk. His hips suddenly buck when he feels Jeongguk’s tongue flatten against his hole, a knee-jerking reaction from how nice it feels. Jeongguk squeezes his cheek in warning, pulling back to blow cold air on the skin.


“Don’t keep your voice back,” Jeongguk tells him, an oddly affectionate tone. “I want to hear how good I make you feel.”


If Taehyung wasn’t dripping by then, he sure is now. He grasps at the desk more, tries to resist bucking on reflex when Jeongguk’s tongue goes lower and his hand wraps around Taehyung’s neglected cock, a steady tug around the girth and finger pressed into the slit.


“Hold yourself open,” Jeongguk speaks again, voice gravelly. Taehyung can’t disobey, grabbing the other cheek and pulling it apart for Jeongguk’s tongue to go back in, flicking up his perineum, then running up and down the surface of his hole.


He switches between sucking on the skin, then circling the tip of his tongue around it, driving Taehyung fucking nuts. He can’t do a lot more except moan, bite at the inked skin of his arm in case he hears footsteps outside the classroom. Right, they’re in a fucking classroom, in school. With the curtains pulled and the sunlight warm on his skin – while he gets eaten out. Great.


Jeongguk, regrettably enough, knows how to rim, how to make feel Taehyung feel putty. It’s not too long after some teasing that he pushes his tongue inside, little by little, until he can thrust it in and out and–gods, the slurping sounds are fucking obscene, straight out of any gay porno. Taehyung feels drool run down his inner thighs and he can’t find himself complaining.


Continuously being tongue-fucked while having his dick jerked is probably the fastest way for Taehyung to orgasm, but he soon finds himself tapping three times against the desk, quite loudly. “L–Lube. Get the lube from my bag,” he pants before Jeongguk gets the wrong idea about him using the safe signal. “Finger me.”


That request seems warranted. He feels Jeongguk’s heat leave him, hears the sounds of his briefcase being unzipped, Jeongguk fumbling around to find that little bottle he always carries himself. You never know when you’ll hook up and someone might not have supplies on hand–and for Taehyung, dry fucks aren’t that enjoyable. He prefers it wet.


Soon, he finds himself on his back, Jeongguk’s turned him over and for a moment, they’re taking in each other’s appearances–the disheveled hair, untidy uniforms, straining arousal. Fuck, Jeongguk’s is so prominent against the uniform it looks like it hurts, but Taehyung can’t offer a hand because his legs are being spread.


“What a fucking sight you are,” Jeongguk sighs with frustration, circling a lubed finger around Taehyung’s puckering entrance. He dips down to take a sore nipple into his mouth, making Taehyung hiccup with pleasure. “’S annoying.”


Taehyung would’ve laughed, if he wasn’t so lost in the sensation of the long finger probing inside of him, testing the waters by gently nudging and thrusting. He shakes his hips, signaling to Jeongguk that he can take another–he’s then left empty, before breached by two.


The redhead tends to hate to be the type to tighten up after each time he has sex, like he doesn’t take big dick on the reg and hasn’t been thoroughly fucked at all. And even if that is pleasurable for his partners, it makes the entire “preparation” process somewhat tiring, straining. Now, however, Taehyung doesn’t seem to really mind being tight – not when Jeongguk fucks him that good with his fingers.


He hates the part of himself that wants Jeongguk’s cock inside him, but Taehyung can’t even deny it at this point. Even if he knows it won’t be happening now.


“F–Fuck, why’re you so tight?” Jeongguk grunts against his skin, thrusting another finger inside and curling them up in different directions in search of that particular soft spot. “Thought you were a size queen, Kim.”


The use of the surname is so them that it’s infuriating, because they’re still not letting go of their egos, of the fact that they’re rivals or whatever (rivals with really good sexual chemistry, to be more precise).


“I–I am,” Taehyung answers, his hips twitch when Jeongguk’s fingers graze that nub inside of him. Noticing the reaction, even if rather brief, Jeongguk keeps thrusting his fingers there, warming up the prostate while his other hand is on Taehyung’s cock. “J–Just–ah, fuck–tend to tighten up.”


Jeongguk’s tongue is warm on his chest, pressing over his nipples and the stork and arrow tattoo. He’s really persistent, no trouble or tiring in his wrists as he simultaneously tugs at Taehyung’s member and finger-fucks him slowly. Just until Taehyung warms up, when the thrusts turn jerked and harsh.


Taehyung feels a pair of lips on his neck, then a breath on his ear. “So, you’d feel nice and tight around my cock, yeah?” Jeongguk whispers and holy shit, what is that mouth on him? “If you’d even be able to take it.”


Yeah, Taehyung part wants to punch Jeongguk in the face, and part wants to sink down on his cock and fuck himself with it until he’s satisfied. Kind of difficult to differentiate now, with three fingers assaulting his prostate and hot mouth all over him.


“I–If we get there, Jeon,” Taehyung replies, stomach tightening. His arms wind around Jeongguk’s neck (an act he will most definitely regret later on), pulling him in as he rocks his hips to meet the thrusts, so overwhelmed tears sting his eyes. “L–Let me come?”


He’s not to the point that he’d beg for it, certainly, but Jeongguk deems this enough for now. He nods with his head tucked into Taehyung’s shoulder, both of his hands speed up until Taehyung’s body goes through orgasmic spasms, one by one, until his limbs are shaking so bad he can only whine and moan–to fucking hell with Jeon Jeongguk, fuck.


Taehyung comes to his senses when he hears Jeongguk’s pants unzip, he manages to lift himself on the elbows to see the younger’s hand wrapped around his thick, still very hard cock, stroking and chewing his bottom lip between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.


“Wait, I’ll suck you off–” Taehyung begins to offer, feeling the need to return the favor, but Jeongguk shakes his head, one hand still on Taehyung’s thigh, holding him open.


“J–Just,” Jeongguk tries to say, he sounds of breath. “S–Stay still.”


Taehyung can barely move as it is, his legs are still shaking and his mouth feels incredibly empty while watching Jeongguk jerk off, until he hits climax and spills his cum all over Taehyung’s spent body, where he’s already obscene with spit and lube. Jeongguk looks good, still, with his uniform still on, his tie still on, even if his expression betrays nothing but desire.


This entire ordeal is making Taehyung’s knees weak. He doesn’t know how much more of this he can stand, because he wants Jeongguk so bad it hurts.



In the midst of the main hall of their university’s fraternity, it is mostly silent as many of the members have scurried off to football practice (as you can imagine, since they are indeed, majority jocks). Jeongguk feels like an odd one out, packing up everything he needs for the practical parts of his next photography project–or, well, his and Taehyung’s project.


They decided to meet up, which has been… less than enjoyable. They end up spewing cusswords before pushing one another into the nearest wall and kissing until their lips bruise–thus, a proper conversation is never carried out. Jeongguk finally, finally managed to set a time for them – even then, he had to order Taehyung to agree to it while making him see stars with four of his fingers in the student council bathroom (sorry Namjoon). Because fuck proper communication, am I right?


“You off?” Yugyeom walks up to him, watching Jeongguk pack everything in the bag he splayed across the only table in the main hall.


“Yeah,” Jeongguk replies, he slings the bag across his shoulder and gives Yugyeom a once-over, eyebrow raised. “I thought you went to practice with the other guys?”


“Coach and captain ordered me to stay back because my arm is still cramped,” his friend replies with a shrug, he doesn’t seem to particularly mind missing several hours of head butting and copious cardio. “Hey, uh–Seunghoon-hyung asked me to ask you–well, technically, coach asked him to ask me to ask you–”


Stumbling over his words is weird for him, to which Jeongguk wonders if it’s something he’s got to be that nervous about. “Get it together,” Yugyeom whispers to himself, then looks at Jeongguk with a half-determined, half-frightened gaze. “So, uh–we’re having a charity game during this year’s graduation season. You know how the Dean’s like, gathering everyone’s rich parents to get more benefactors or whatnot. Yours would surely come if you were to play with us.”


Sounds about right, yeah–there is just this tiny issue about the entire thing, which is the fact that Jeongguk hasn’t played football in a while now (like, eighteen months now). He quit to focus more on his studies, plus he suffered a head injury in his last game, which was a bit traumatizing.


“Yug, I–I don’t know,” Jeongguk responds, rubbing the back of his neck from the uneasy atmosphere. “I mean, I haven’t played for so long, I’m not even that good compared to some of your other players, it’d be pointless to throw me in.”


Yugyeom, more so surprised that Jeongguk is refusing on the fact that he’s insecure, widens his eyes and takes a step forward, planting a palm on his friend’s shoulder. “Whoa, there. Gguk, you’re literally one of the best we had on the field, even coach says so. And we could use a good quarterback, since our current is graduating this year,” he says. “The game doesn’t have higher stakes, all the bets proceed to charity work. So give it a thought, yeah?”


Jeongguk’s still rather unsure, but he begrudgingly nods. He’s thinking of a definitive no for now, but he might change his mind – and he’s never been able to refuse someone outright. He’ll just see how it goes.



They meet at the parking lot, which is like the creepiest place with how vacant it can be at times, but it’s better for no one to see them together. When there are parties, the lot is filled with different variations of Jaguars or Mercedes A-class vehicles, but now it’s filled with silence.


Jeongguk spots Taehyung by his traffic light hair, screaming at him from miles away. In typical rebel, punk-rock fashion, he’s sporting ripped skinny jeans, a leather jacket with colorful appliqués and a studded choker. He’s leaning on a – you guessed it – black sleek motorcycle. Which, Jeongguk regrets having to admit, looks pretty sick.


“You couldn’t have picked a worse location,” Jeongguk walks up from behind him, looking nothing less but the nerd he is–oversize clothing, patterned with light shades, round glasses, all the cute stuff. A polar opposite of Taehyung, who turns to look at him with a cigarette between pink-colored lips.


“Well, I try to meet your standards,” the redhead grins, he plucks the cigarette out of his mouth and crushes it against the nearby trashcan. Black painted-nails, lots of jewelry, all in the color of his aesthetic. “Well, hop on, baby boy. We should get this over with.”


He throws the helmet to Jeongguk, who – thankfully – doesn’t embarrass himself by dropping it. “Let’s agree on that. And don’t miss the spot I told you about,” he says, watching Taehyung roll his eyes while mounting the motorcycle, which is a somewhat, um… striking sight.


“Of course not,” Taehyung drawls, patting the leather seat behind him. “Hold on tight. I don’t really like going slow.”


Jeongguk huffs a laugh, he puts the helmet on and sits behind Taehyung, adjusting his bag. “I already know that, Kim,” he comments, winding his arms around the redhead’s waist–fuck, it feels small like this, when he holds it like that. He scoots closer to press their bodies together, for safety reasons, of course.


When Taehyung hits gas and they get moving, Jeongguk tightens the hold on his waist on reflex–but he doesn’t really over think it anymore. He feels the fresh air hit his skin during the drive, the exhilarating feeling of speed and rush through a crowded city making his head buzz. Taehyung seems to be a good driver, enough to make him feel oddly safe.


They settle close to a valley Jeongguk often frequented in his freshman year, adjacent to a nearby park. It feels weird to be with someone in a place he found comfort in – and to be there with Taehyung sounds surreal on its own. And speaking of surrealism–


“That is the single most dumb idea I’ve ever heard,” Taehyung says plainly, both hands on his hips, eyebrow raised as if what Jeongguk just proposed was so outlandishly stupid he can’t believe he even said it. “Man Ray, seriously Jeon?”


“He’s literally one of the most significant contributors to the surrealism movement.”


“And I already told you – quite explicitly, might I add – that we won’t use editing. I want the photographs to be raw. No editing, no bullshit.”


Jeongguk scoffs as they go up the hill together, feet stomping into the vividly green grass whilst they try not to slip. Taehyung’s carrying his appliances in a ragged backpack, but they way he’s just dragging it along doesn’t suggest much care.


“Kim, we’re doing surrealism,” Jeongguk emphasizes, escaping a camouflaged rock in his way. Taehyung’s walking in front of him and it’s kind of hard not to look at the way his thighs shift and jeans squeeze around his luscious behind. “We–we can’t just not edit it at all.”


Taehyung zips his backpack open enough to pull a camera out of it, proceeding to drop it by the single tree at the top of the hill. The landscape in front of them is immaculate, simply stunning, but that’s not what they’re here to picture–they have a much bigger assignment on hand, which isn’t going well considering their contradictory ideas.


“Surrealism exists within reality,” Taehyung says, in that fucking holier-than-thou tone that Jeongguk just detests. “I know you can’t really comprehend that, since you’re the type to prefer it polished, but art is much more unrefined than that.”


“Fuck, Kim, you have such a hipster attitude about art, when you damn well know art is not defined by it being either raw or edited, it’s just art,” Jeongguk snaps, he feels exhausted because it just seems like Taehyung wants to argue for the sake of arguing. “Can’t we find a middle ground and make this project work somehow?”


Taehyung turns to look at him, eyebrows knit together. He’s skeptical of Jeongguk because he doesn’t really trust his expression, maybe he’s being unnecessarily harsh about it because he wants to distance himself more, making their relationship seem more detached than it actually is–making it all go to how it was before. Even if his feelings aren’t the same.


Rubbing a hand across his nape, he then sighs. “I’m just saying that we should go more raw in order to stand out. You know everyone will be using editing to their advantage, so we can go in another direction,” Taehyung explains, avoiding any previous points so that they don’t get to arguing again. It won’t bring them to a conclusion.


Jeongguk understands what he means, of course, he just hates how they still go at it even after everything that happened between them–in some ways, they still can’t stand each other, even after coming to know each other’s bodies quite well.


“Let’s just–I don’t know, brainstorm a few ideas,” Jeongguk responds, he grabs several things from his bag – one of them being a notebook he uses to scribble ideas in, a pencil, then a blanket he promptly throws into Taehyung’s face. “Lay that out, we’ll sit down and… think this through.”


Taehyung, for once (except when his mouth is full with something else), doesn’t talk back, he mumbles something defiant under his breath and then spreads the baby blue blanket under the tree. It feels like they’re about to have a picnic, but this will be far from enjoyable–at least for now.


The sit together (within comfortable distance), both with a paper in hand, cameras resting as the mellow sunlight warms their cheeks. They don’t talk for the first five minutes, just stare at the blank pages in front of them and pretend to ponder, even if they’re only thinking about one another (which sound grossly poetic).


They exchange a few words, here and there. Don’t talk a lot, about things other than this project.


“Let’s see,” Jeongguk eventually sighs, after they don’t come to a single agreeable idea. “We need to pick a solid theme. How about… industrial modification within nature?”


Taehyung clicks his tongue, disapproving. “Too obvious,” he replies, short. “Should we go with a light versus dark theme?”


Also too obvious,” Jeongguk shakes his head no. “How about showcasing what’s inside a person’s mind? Open head, dreams flowing out, maybe distorted objects–”


“Nope, requires too much editing. And screams too much Dalí. We need to play to our strengths, because brainstorming like this won’t get us anywhere.”


Jeongguk thinks about it – he’s seen Taehyung’s photographs at school exhibitions, hung around campus. They’re very… frank and honest, muted colors with a bokeh effect to them, sometimes discolored to harsh out emotion. Whether someone likes his vision or not, it definitely makes them think. Which, on Jeongguk’s account, is admirable for a photographer.


And Jeongguk’s a landscaper, he takes beautiful shots of the best life has to offer–they’re on the opposite ends of the spectrum, so how is their common interest supposed to align?


“Okay, first things first, we need a reoccurring object. How about–” Jeongguk trails off, he looks around in desperation for some inspiration. He looks up, sees the Sun gleaming towards them, then glances back at Taehyung (who’s been staring at him oddly), suggesting, “–the moon?”


It’s a pregnant pause during which Taehyung taps a pencil to his empty paper. “Moonchildren,” he then says, as if the word’s a revelation. “I like it.”


Well, that’s a first – a set combination of words Jeongguk never thought he’d hear from Taehyung himself. In a way, it pushes him forward to prove himself more, to the person he begrudgingly respects. He writes every little idea down, throat very dry.


“If muses are needed, it’s better that we use each other. I’ll pose in your photographs, even if I’m awkward as hell at it,” Jeongguk breaks a laugh, he looks up with a kicked puppy sort of expression, unsure to even ask, “And you can be my muse too?”


Taehyung gulps, unexpectedly, he shifts his gaze in consideration. His cheeks suddenly flush, he then clears his throat, “Yeah. Let’s do that.”


Alright, two obstacles down.


“So, uh–I saw your previous works, so I know you use a lot of art to amplify the intensity of your photographs, which I… like,” Jeongguk says, he’s uneasy because he doesn’t know how Taehyung will receive it, will he tease or mock him again? “We can use that here as well.”


Taehyung stares at him for a solid moment, before leaning his elbows on his knees, legs crossed. “You… like my photographs?” He prompts, raising an eyebrow, perhaps he doesn’t believe it so easily. He’s too skeptical, when Jeongguk is so genuine about it.


“Well, I mean… I thought that it’s quite obvious you’re a good photographer, as much as I didn’t want to admit it before. You have unique vision, which evokes emotion, good or bad, so I… I have to respect that, one way or another.”


The air between them is unsettling, no noise except the birds chirping and Jeongguk scribbling senseless words on a full page. Contrasting to that, Taehyung’s is still empty, like he’s out of ideas. The redhead continues to stare, teeth grazing at his middle finger as if it’s a nervous habit. There’s ink of a lock design at the side of his digit. Jeongguk stares at it, in order to avoid the other’s eyes.


“Thank you, I guess,” Taehyung eventually responds, his voice shifts, somewhat awkward too. Their energy is starting to match, almost like they’re… bonding? No, that can’t be right. “I’ve seen your photos too, you’re pretty good with composition and size illusions, so let’s use it to our advantage. We’ll make two sets of pictures, yours and mine separately, with a common object.”


Jeongguk is starting to like the sound of this, glossing over the fact that Taehyung complimented him (otherwise he’d start burning up again, for reasons unknown). “You sound like you have an idea already,” he says, phrasing it as a question, but it sounds like a statement.


Taehyung bites at the end of his pencil, then scoots closer and puts his paper over the flat surface of the hardcover notebook. His pen moves so fluidly as he sketches out his concept, Jeongguk’s sort of mesmerized to watch him work–he’s never seen Taehyung in the act, except when he’s had to play piano for a few school occasions. But that was practiced, premeditated, this is just… raw. On the spot.


After a few minutes, he turns the drawing to showcase it to Jeongguk. “I was thinking about trying body-paint,” he says, pointing to the lines and shapes he’s darkened. “It could be in the color of the sky so it blends in the background, while the other part–” He points to the blank spots of the sketch, “–matches the color of the moon, looking like it’s holding it in its hands.”


His ideas are so fresh it feels like Jeongguk’s just dawned a packet of mints. Sure, they call him an artisan prodigy, but it feels different to see Taehyung work so quickly, as if it’s just pouring out of him. It’s somewhat envious.


“How about you?” Taehyung then asks, putting him on the spot.


Jeongguk gulps, suddenly insecure. “Well, I–I don’t know…” He mutters, fingers thumbing at the hem of his sweater. “I’m not sure if it’s surrealistic enough? I was thinking of a balcony railing pose, but in a way it makes the size of the moon match the size of the person? Like they’re talking to each other? Gosh, that sounds so dumb when I say it out loud–”


“Wait, what the fuck, no,” Taehyung interrupts, he’s frowning in confusion. “Jeon, that’s a good idea, what are you on about? It matches the theme, we can definitely go with that. We can take those at my place, it’s the perfect spot.”


“You–you’re sure?” Jeongguk asks, surprised Taehyung actually sounds impressed. Like he couldn’t quite believe Jeongguk had it in him.


Definitely,” Taehyung emphasizes, he throws his pencil at Jeongguk and hits him square in the nose, making his face scrunch up with discomfort. “C’mon, I’ll be your model, you have nothing to worry about. We’ll figure this shit out.”


Odd as it is, those words are comforting, they bring some sort of clearance. And the fact that Taehyung referred to himself as Jeongguk’s model is also kind of… encouraging. In a certain way.


“But if I’m supposed to, um… pose for your photos, I’m not really sure how,” Jeongguk admits, because he feels slightly uneasy about that, unsure if he can do it right. He’s never liked to pose, always felt too forced and uncomfortable, it reminds him too much of the many times he’s had to smile for family photos, with his two perfect parents and much better brother.


Taehyung, all at once, is taking off his jacket and standing up. When Jeongguk looks at him with confound expression, the redhead rolls his eyes. “Well? I’ll show you the kind of poses I want, you can take pictures and study them at home or something. If that’ll make you feel better.”


Jeongguk nods, he sits up and brings his camera along. When he notices the thin material of Taehyung’s shirt, how it’s ripped in fashionable spots and showing glimpses of his tan skin, he immediately feels the cold air hit both of them. He takes off his cardigan, throwing it to Taehyung.


“Here, sit on this. So you don’t catch a cold,” he says, trying to cover his flushed face by looking away and hoping his hair hides it. Taehyung stares at the soft piece of polyester in his hands, chewing his bottom lip.


“You’ll get cold too,” he replies automatically, catching sight of Jeongguk’s striped t-shirt, how well it tightens around his biceps. An idea comes to him, a smirk tugging to Taehyung’s lips, “Let’s trade then, babe. Take my jacket instead.”


The nickname brings him back, causing Jeongguk to fluster. He looks down on the picnic blanket, the black, faux leather with colorful appliqués all over it, thinking what the hell, why? “I’m not even that cold–”


“Just put it on, Jeon. No arguing.”


Yeah, they end up exchanging – the motor jacket feels both unfitting and yet so right on Jeongguk, he finds himself liking it more than he’d initially thought. Taehyung, with his whole ensemble of tattoos and piercings, red lips and sharp edges, looks out of place with a cardigan. But it serves well to cover his ass when he sits on the ground and poses like a natural.


Behind the lens, Jeongguk feels, for lack of better word, mesmerized. Watching how Taehyung moves, how he puts his own vision into action, how easily he translates everything as if it’s what he’s meant to do, to be his entire life, it’s fantastic.


He looks into the camera like it’s his everything, like it holds his secrets and sees through him. Jeongguk snaps a few photographs, observes the way Taehyung moves and bends one knee upwards, elbow resting on it and hand extending to capture the sun within its grasp. He’s sitting, taking everything like it’s his to own.


These are trials, something to aid Jeongguk, but he only sees Taehyung, only sees his eyes and lips, his face and his body, his dramatic hair and pretty tattoos, all of it. He can’t see the sky behind him, neither the clouds or the Sun, not the birds or the flowers, not the grass swaying in the spring wind. No, it’s just him and Taehyung, a camera capturing Taehyung’s world.


Things between them have shifted, they’ve changed. It’s a wonder what a touch of vulnerability can do.



  • chat: yoonie hyung


tiger cub


lil meow meow
what happened
who hurt you
who do i have to cut


tiger cub
omg no, it’s not like that
i’m just in a weird mood lately


lil meow meow
baby, why??
you know you can tell me everything


tiger cub
it’s about jeon
idk why, but things have been going different
different from what i expected


lil meow meow
how come??


tiger cub
i thought we’d just, you know
fuck it out, have hate-sex and get it over with
but we’ve been messing around lately and
i don’t know, but we’re starting to
get more comfortable around each other??


lil meow meow
i thought you were only interested in him bc of the rumor thing


tiger cub
partially, but we didn’t even go all the way yet
we’ve been working on this project together
and he’s actually pretty considerate
he’s talented too, ugh


lil meow meow
yup, that last bit is obvious. he’s goodhearted
from what i’ve seen, at least
you two are just petty with each other, tae
maybe that’s starting to go away


tiger cub
i hate that he turned out to be an okay dude
like wtf, why are you making this difficult for me
i already like sucking your dick, what more do you need


lil meow meow
i don’t understand the appeal of big dicks
but i appreciate the sentiment


tiger cub
i don’t know what to do, hyung
just go along with it??


lil meow meow
you’ve always been a risktaker, tae
all this teasing and everything
it’s been fun and games, i get that
but you grow out of hostility as you mature
especially when you start sucking their dick
but not that i’m speaking from experience


tiger cub
but i get your point
ig it’s just hard for me to comprehend that a conformist like jeon
is actually one good artist


lil meow meow
we all have history, taehyung
there must be a reason he is the way he is
and idk if you noticed or not
but his entire friend group is rebels, one way or another
a frat boy or two, but most of them are rejects
he hangs with good people, yk


tiger cub
yeah, i guess so
after he defended me, we’ve been a bit softer with e/o
well, except when we fuck in an empty classroom


lil meow meow
real classy
i suggest you go with the flow
take the viciousness out and you two make a good match


tiger cub
sorry for being a hardhead, i just need more time
to get used to new stuff, yk


lil meow meow
and i’m proud of you, kitten
i rlly am


tiger cub
stop, that makes me feel kinda hot


lil meow meow
srry, i’m already taken


tiger cub
lmao, good one
wait, yoongi hyung
are you fr??
it’s been five minutes, respond to me


lil meow meow
go bother jimin about it


tiger cub
wait, wtf
did you two rlly hook up??


lil meow meow
you can ask hoseok which one of us sucks dick better


tiger cub
oh my god



“Do you drink beer?” Taehyung asks from the vacancy of his small kitchen (which is honestly just a fridge, a sink and trashcan connected to the bedroom), looking through his refrigerator and the numerous bottles of alcohol Jimin usually leaves behind. He throws a smirk over his shoulder, “Or should I run to the store for some banana milk?”


Jeongguk rolls his eyes, hand fisting at Taehyung’s bed covers. He looks around, pretends to be observing every single detail of the room, even if he’s spent the last few hours here. “Just water is fine,” he says, plainly. “I can’t drink alcohol.”


“Ah, sorry, forgot that you have a body image to keep up. I’d be at loss if a bottle of beer took away those biceps,” Taehyung says with an exaggerated sigh of disappointment, he fumbles through cans and bottles to find something more suitable. “How about juice, babe? Or is it too sugary for you?”


Jeongguk looks his way, finally, spots Taehyung bending over and almost chokes on his own spit. “Yeah, no, um–” He stumbles like a fool, much to the redhead’s glee. “You know that brand does pressed juice, so just bring it over, Kim.”


Taehyung laughs at the fact that Jeongguk even recognized it from afar, which is slightly more jarring than him being caught staring at his ass for a solid minute. That’s quite fine too. “How about we play strip poker?” He then asks, walking over. “Wait, that’s too crude for you. Let’s do twenty-one questions, or truth or dare, but with poker.”


Having taken their photographs, after about a month and a half of planning (during which they grew… closer, if that is even the word for it), Jeongguk having watched Taehyung pose on the balcony railing at midnight and saving him a few times from slipping (which has been nothing less but horrifying, good god), they entered the warmth of Taehyung’s room and just… sat down.


Jeongguk, to be fair, is still uncertain. They’ve met there a few times already, it’s nothing new or exciting, but it’s all been brief and for the sake of the project. Now, it’s too late for Jeongguk to go back to the frat in the middle of the night, so he’s staying over. Just because of that, of course.


Taehyung is fresh from the shower – after washing all of the white body paint off, scrubbing himself clean with lavender soap – some wet droplets still at the ridge of his neck, pajamas all too loose on him. They drop beneath his collarbones, cling nicely to his hips. Jeongguk watches him sit on the carpeted floor, by the short table.


“Well?” The redhead prompts in Jeongguk’s direction, pulling a deck of cards from god knows where. “We doing this or what? I’d rather we don’t keep arguing about gay erasure in pre-modern artists.”


Jeongguk huffs a laugh, he finally takes off his jacket and takes a seat on the floor. “Fine,” he agrees (might as well go with it), watching Taehyung pour glasses full with bright orange juice. “But you do realize that Caravaggio potentially being attracted to men doesn’t really erase the fact that he was most likely both a pimp and a murderer?”


Taehyung clicks his tongue, shuffling the cards and dealing them with the movement that might suggest he’s done this many times before. “Bad people can make beautiful art, unfortunately,” he says, repeating the same phrase from back at the balcony, during an argument they had. “I mean, look at Picasso. Raging misogynist, but definitely one of the most influential artists of all time.”


“Yeah, but it was sort of obvious that he despised women from the vile way he drew them,” Jeongguk adds, as Taehyung lays out the three community cards for their poker game. “Tchaikovsky, on the other hand, was one of those ‘tailor-it-to-a-straight-audience’ types. Not that I can blame him for it.”


“Yeah, since it’s very possible he was coerced into poising himself to cover the fact someone found his gay love letters. Also, that was in the Romantic period, it’s not even pre-modern.”


“You get my gist. And how are we supposed to play poker without bets?”


“Truth or dare, like I said,” Taehyung repeats himself, setting the cards down with a sly grin. “The one who loses does the other’s dare. In the meantime, we just do truths. We should get to know each other better, right babe?”


Jeongguk narrows his gaze, because this sounds like a elaborate scheme on Taehyung’s part, but it’s too late and he’s too tired to argue otherwise. Their tension has been weird as it is, yet he’s gotten to relax around the redhead, even when they still fight about the smallest of things.


This game of poker doesn’t even make too much sense, not when they have nothing to bet on except their own dignity, leaving it up to luck on who’ll win each round. But it’s easygoing and improvised, like most of the other things that happen between them. Might as well go along with it.


“I guess,” Jeongguk mutters, he takes a brief look at his two cards. A six and a five, not bad. “Questions… I don’t know if I have anything to ask you, except why you’re as insufferable as you are.”


Taehyung huffs a laugh, amused by insults as always. He doesn’t get flustered, still, which used to be annoying, but is starting to become frightfully endearing. “The simple answer would be that it’s just the way I am,” he says, dealing their fourth community card. “And the long answer would be… well, that years of belittlement from peers made me kind of hard to approach. But I’m no psych major to explain further than that.”


It’s weird, almost, to think of Taehyung being in a position of weakness. “I can’t imagine that,” Jeongguk says with a frown, his back leant on the side of the bed, face pulled into a frown. “I mean… universities were ready to tear each other apart just to get you to join their program. Because you’re that remarkable. I remember them calling you a prodigy beyond yours years, or something like that.”


The fact that it’s not even joke, not condescending by any means, makes Taehyung kind of shift in his seat. He can’t yet get used to Jeongguk acknowledging his abilities so casually. “Yeah, I know,” he breathes out, revealing their final card. “To be honest, I hate the word prodigy. It just makes it seem like it’s all natural talent, when I worked my ass off to get as good as I am.”


Now that he thinks about, Jeongguk’s realizing that were his exact thoughts this entire time – Taehyung’s just someone who let his achievements get to his head, which he wouldn’t have if he weren’t lucky to be born with his abilities. It makes Jeongguk feel selfish, inconsiderate, which was never his intention. He really feels bad about it.


Taehyung reveals his two cards, head tilted. “Full house,” he says. “What’d you got, Jeon?”


Jeongguk turns his two cards as well, licking his lips a little. “Straight flush.”


“Starting the game strong, I see. So, what’s your dare, babe?”


Jeongguk’s on the spot and he’s not really good at making up dares, but he goes for what he wants. “Stop it with the nicknames,” he says, grabbing at his juice. “At least for tonight.”


Taehyung, to his absolute devastation, pouts. “C’mon, that’s no fun!” He complains, grabbing their cards and shuffling them again, with an expression of defiance. What a brat.


“Seriously, stop it,” Jeongguk says, he tries to make himself clear, even if it’s proving to be quite difficult to deny Taehyung. “If I went around and called you berry boy or something like that, it would be annoying, wouldn’t it?”


“Sounds cute, actually,” Taehyung shrugs, he giggles and deals them their cards again. “My turn to ask then, Jeon. Care to tell me why you’re in computer science and business management even if you have a good eye for art?”


It took a while (and by a while, it means too many appropriate and fully clothed rendezvous’), for Taehyung to accept that Jeongguk isn’t as much of a conformist as he’d originally thought, even if it stays in the back of his head during every conversation they have. He really needs to ridden of that way of thinking.


Jeongguk would feel guilty not to answer that after Taehyung showed him some sensibility earlier. “It doesn’t pay the bills, simply said. And never made my parents proud,” he admits, his voice is kind of cracked and rough around the edges. He doesn’t talk about this often, but he doesn’t really mind – Jeongguk’s long came to terms with his current situation. “I just... I have a lot to live up to.”


Taehyung watches him while revealing another community card, but one of his hands is busy clinking polished fingernails against the glass of his half-drunk juice. “Your brother, right?” He threads lightly, finding himself awfully considerate of Jeongguk’s feelings on the matter (something he’d only do with close friends, but even then, that’s not what they are at all).


Jeongguk laughs, scratching his nape. “Yeah. He already has his own business, he’s flourishing, while I…” He trails off, biting his lower lip. “I’m just trying my best, I guess. I can do art on the side, I don’t mind.”


He could’ve been a dancer, a photographer, or who knows what other stuff he is also talented in (still the golden boy, if a reminder is needed), but Taehyung can’t help but feel bad about the entire situation – up until now, he really thought of Jeongguk as only a rich boy (which he is), but there is always expectation, standards to live up to.


Taehyung, being poor for most of his life, couldn’t quite comprehend the struggle. Maybe he still doesn’t, but he can acknowledge that it’s there. That’s a start.


“I have a flush,” Jeongguk says, revealing his cards.


Taehyung takes a look at his own, then breaks a grin. “Four of a kind for me. I win,” he declares with upmost satisfaction. Gathering their cards, he gives Jeongguk a very obvious once-over, almost as if preparing him for the dare. “Off with your shirt, Jeon. For the rest of the game.”


Jeongguk almost chokes on his orange juice. His cheeks brighten with red, but he clears his throat. “Pervert,” he mutters under his breath, but he surprisingly doesn’t even complain. Grasping at the edges of his sweater, he drags it over his head, leaving his hair a mess. It reaches the ridge of his neck, slightly longer than Taehyung remembers it, which is… kind of hot.


Well, if you ignore the built, wide shoulders and washboard abs, of course (his pectorals are also another story on their own, but let’s not go there for now).


“Why don’t you grow out your hair a little more?” Taehyung then asks, resting his chin atop his hand as he watches Jeongguk discard his sweater to the side. It’s not his turn to ask, but he never follows the rules anyways. “Or get a few tattoos. They’d look good on you.”


Jeongguk is caught off guard, trying to get used to the warm air hitting his naked skin. It feels weird to be shirtless like this, but it’s nothing he hasn’t done before. “I–I can’t,” he admits, face betraying disappointment even when he laughs a little. “I’m pretty sure my parents would disown me. They almost did when I painted my own nails black in sixth grade.”


Taehyung, on both of their behalf’s, looks offended. “Okay, that is unacceptable,” he says, standing up. Jeongguk is confused, seeing as the redhead is opening his bedside drawer and fumbling about for an item in need, pulling out empty perfume bottles and… uh, sex toys (pink vibrators, to be more specific), until he finally finds–


Jeongguk’s eyes widen. “Kim, I can’t,” he immediately says, even if, in normal circumstances, a small container of black nail polish wouldn’t particularly be a threat (unless triggering bad childhood memories is considered as such).


“This one chips easily and will probably be gone by sunrise,” Taehyung insists, he makes his way towards Jeongguk and sits right next to him, grabbing at his wrist without abandon. “Consider this the second part of my dare.”


Jeongguk’s face scrunches up, but he doesn’t resist. “The game doesn’t work that way,” he says, almost soft-spoken. Taehyung’s working diligently on opening the polish, which appears not to have been used in a while (probably due to quality, as it chips effortlessly), holding Jeongguk’s hand in a gentle manner.


“It works how I say it does,” Taehyung says, because nothing less should be expected of him. “And just so you know, I don’t think you’ll ever be happy if you keep living by their rules, Jeon.”


The younger laughs, shaking hair out of his eyes. It’s been unruly since he took his sweater off. “You care about my happiness, Kim?” He prompts, teasingly, but it’s also too genuine. He doesn’t know what to feel anymore.


“Maybe I do,” Taehyung answers, too seriously for how easily he says it. He then laughs, eyes gleaming, “But this is what you’re into? Black nails and tattoos? Because, in alternative universe, you look like the type to wear leather and long earrings, y’know?”


He’s blabbing, but that’s fine–it’s his own aesthetic that Taehyung’s describing and maybe Jeongguk has always been subconsciously jealous of it. He stares down at the way the tip of the nail polish brush applies a black coat to his thumb; he notices the two lines tattooed around Taehyung’s ring finger.


Maybe, in an alternative universe, he’d have the matching tattoo, tying them together. But that thought is too loaded for him to handle right now.


“It’s my turn to ask, right?” Jeongguk says, voice mellow. Taehyung glances upwards, their eyes meet. Jeongguk’s heart smashes against his ribcage, what the fuck. “What’s your most important tattoo?”


Taehyung pauses, he moves away when his hand starts to shake. Jeongguk fears he might’ve asked too much, but then Taehyung is setting the nail polish aside and bunching up the material of his pajama top, tightening it around his bicep. He turns his arm to show Jeongguk the ink design above his left elbow.


It’s done in red, with black outlines, a capital letter Q, a crown above it and heart underneath it. Jeongguk’s eyebrows knit, because he can only figure out one single meaning to that.


“Queen of hearts,” Taehyung explains, tugging his sleeve back down. He goes back to painting Jeongguk’s nails, as if it’s of no significance to further explain. “I have tattoos that mock everything I’m not, like the stork tattoo. A queen of hearts is someone who is adorned by the public, but I always think of the character from Wonderland, who represents a will to survive. It’s one of the first ones I had done, so I guess that’s why it’s important to me.”


The story is more than Jeongguk expected it to be, but it also doesn’t reveal as much information as he’d anticipated. A will to survive, he said. Tattooing card symbols usually represents a thriving lifestyle for someone and for Taehyung, it appears to be this. Someone who is not loved by everyone, someone who just wants to get through it.


“It suits you,” Jeongguk blurts out, just as Taehyung’s done with his right hand. The redhead raises an eyebrow, causing the younger to fumble. “I–I mean, I like that style. Of tattoos.”


Taehyung giggles, his eyes crinkle at the corners and it sounds like he doesn’t believe him because, well–it isn’t true, both of them know that. “You mean you like me, Jeon?” He prompts, half-joking. The other part is indescribable, longing maybe? Who knows.


A few minutes in silence pass by, making both of them uneasy. Taehyung thinks he might’ve went too far, joked too far (which is a concern he otherwise never has, not in situations like these), but Jeongguk isn’t sure how to respond. Does he like Taehyung? Is it worth to describe it as such? Sure, he respects him, but…


Fuck feelings, seriously. They hurt both the brain and the heart too much.


“Are you attending this year’s graduation season?” Jeongguk blurts out, derailing the topic before it grows even more awkward. “I–I mean, I know you’re not graduating yet, but maybe to support your friends or something?”


Taehyung raises an eyebrow, but he’s still very careful about applying the polish with upmost precision. “I feel like you’re asking me if I’ll be attending the football charity game,” he says, slapping Jeongguk’s wrist to still him from nervousness. “Kind of hard to avoid when I fucked half the team.”


You mean they fucked you, Jeongguk almost corrects him, but keeps his mouth shut. “Yeah, I just–I don’t know, I was asked to be their quarterback this year and I don’t know, it just sounds silly–even if my father would love to see me play again, but he’d probably be disappointed since I’m not as good as I used to be,” he admits. “And if I do well, he’ll keep persuading me to join the team again and–fuck, why am I even telling you this? I’m sorry, we’re supposed to be enemies, yet I just–”


“Okay, breathe. Breathe,” Taehyung grabs Jeongguk’s wrist and tugs him in so their foreheads collide for a quick second. The smallest bit of pain draws Jeongguk’s attention away from the steadily building panic in his throat. “If you want to play the game, go for it. I highly doubt you’ll do bad, especially when you have two months of vacation between the end of this school year and the graduation ceremony. You have time to practice.”


He goes back to painting Jeongguk’s nails black. “Do what you want to do. That’s all there is to it,” he says, breaking the stiff mood. “And enemies, really, Jeon? Are we still enemies after I had your dick in my mouth countless times in the last few months?”


Yet they never went all the way. Maybe it meant too much for them, who knows. Jeongguk lets the polish dry, doing that hand-waving technique he saw people use in YouTube nail tutorials, whilst Taehyung puts everything back in the drawer of their dreaded silence. He puts the vibrators away too, for good measure.


Jeongguk feels like choking up, but he still asks, “Is it my turn for a dare now?”


Taehyung stops for a moment, then turns around to look at him. “Yeah?” He answers, confused.


This might not be a good idea, but Jeongguk can’t take it anymore. He really wants to get it out of his system. “Can you kiss me, then?” He asks, already feeling like someone punched the air out of him, with the way Taehyung’s eyes widen and hand grasps at the edge of his drawer.


It’s silence, the sound of rain falling outside, water droplets hitting the windows, then join Taehyung’s footsteps as he comes closer again. “Y’know,” he drawls, leaning down to cup Jeongguk’s cheeks in his warm hands, closing in without much more hesitation. He grins, lips centimeters apart, “That’s a question, not a dare, Jeon.”


He still kisses him, nonetheless. A slow, gentle press of lips and uncertain all the way through. They’re usually pent up, sexually frustrated with each other when they kiss, but this is different. In the annoying sense of way, because it feels like it’s too much. Too much meaning, too many concealed emotions.


Jeongguk slips a hand to Taehyung’s neck, pulls him in a little closer, parts his lips with his tongue and evades his mouth. It’s a lewd sound that echoes in the room, but they barely hear anything as it is, more so focused on how desperately they are starting to grab at each other. Taehyung moves, pushes the table aside with his foot and then drops into Jeongguk’s lap.


Breaking the kiss, Jeongguk moves to Taehyung’s neck–small nibbles, here and there, wet suctions against the juncture between his neck and shoulder, his tan skin blooms with bruises so easily. It’s arousing to watch how the deepened red against his collarbones doesn’t fade even a bit.


“You–” Taehyung starts saying, but his breath hitches when Jeongguk licks over the sensitive spot behind his ear. “Are we doing this for real?”


Jeongguk can’t entirely focus, not with his hands slipping under the pajama top and gripping at Taehyung’s bare waist. “Y–You mean… uh, all the way?” He asks, pulling back to look at the redhead properly.


Taehyung’s already disheveled, hair an outright mess and lips sore, he looks freshly fucked out without actually being fucked out, which makes Jeongguk tingly with anticipation–god, if Taehyung looks like nothing less but a wet dream now, who knows how gorgeous he looks taking cock.


“Yes, Jeon, all the way,” he laughs, rolling his hips to press down some more on Jeongguk’s steadily growing erection. Winding his arms around the younger’s neck, Taehyung leans closer to his ear, “Want you to fuck me with your giant cock, yeah?”


Which is currently trapped in the confinement of Jeongguk’s rather loose sweatpants, only made worse when Taehyung dares to utter those words against Jeongguk’s ear with his voice being nothing less than sin. Jeongguk groans, leaning his head on Taehyung’s chest and sliding his hands down to push the pajama bottoms out of the way.


“This isn’t fair, you know that?” Jeongguk mutters, winding his mouth around Taehyung’s nipple over a thin layer of cotton. “Why are you s’ fucking sexy, you incorrigible brat.”


He feels Taehyung’s chest boom with laughter, though he slips into a moan a second later when Jeongguk fondles his ass in less than a ceremonious way. “B–Big words there, Jeon,” he says, fingers tangled in Jeongguk’s hair and pulling him in, moaning with wanton when his nipple is tugged between a greedy pair of lips. “Let’s see if you can fuck the brat out of me.”


Jeongguk spreads his cheeks, finger dancing over the cleft and dipping to tease at his clenching hole. Taehyung presses forward until his cock is against Jeongguk’s deliciously carved abs, rocking to get some stimulation–he’s turning breathy already, perhaps too repressed with the need for a good dicking after months of nothing but foreplay.


“Is that what you want, Kim?” Jeongguk whispers to the skin stretched over his collarbones, teeth grazing the surface. “To be fucked silly, is that it?”


Whenever they do this, it’s almost like a switch flips in Jeongguk’s head, something so… insatiable coming out of him, like a need he can’t quite help. He turns more confident, his hands are greedier and mouth dirtier, it’s everything Taehyung could ask for and more (having a big dick is, as you guessed it, also a huge plus).


“Y–Yeah,” Taehyung responds, he tugs Jeongguk back by the hair and dips down to press their lips together messily, all wet and bitten, panting into his mouth, “Want you to make me beg for it, Jeon.”


Jeongguk nearly rips his shirt open right then at there, tongue dipping between his pectorals and hands slipping under Taehyung’s obnoxiously pink underwear to fondle his ass, as an excuse to hold him tighter when he suddenly stands up, bringing the redhead with him.


Taehyung, much to his mortification, yelps, arms tightening around Jeongguk’s shoulders. There is a tremble that rocks through his body at being carried so easily, so effortlessly, almost like he weights nothing in Jeongguk’s arms (in case it was not already obvious that he has a muscle kink, thank you very much).


They land on the soft entity of his bed, fumbling to rid of their clothes. Jeongguk, as he is – rather unsuccessfully – attempting to tug Taehyung’s pajama bottoms down, bites the lobe of his ear between his teeth, breath hot, “Safe words, Kim?”


Taehyung hates that he expects of him to answer when his dick is being fondled over his briefs. “Pineapple and t–three taps on the thigh,” he says, breath stuttering when Jeongguk’s finger presses over his slit. “Your sex etiquette is so meticulous, I’m surprised we didn’t fuck sooner.”


He laughs by the end of that statement because it’s quite a ridiculous observation, taking into account how long they’ve been at each other’s throats. Even so, Jeongguk slips back to his neck in order to hide his flustered expression, nipping at the skin as a distraction.


“Y’know,” he mutters, finally throwing the pajamas to the floor, gathering Taehyung by the waist to press their hips closer together. “Before this entire thing started, y’know, us being rivals or whatever–”


“By the way,” Taehyung cuts in, digging his nails into Jeongguk’s shoulder blades, sighing with relief when their cocks brush over one another, even through two layers of cotton. “How’d we even come to that? Who started the first argument?”


The memory is kind of blurry, considering they’ve fought one too many times. “I think it was you,” Jeongguk responds, which isn’t much of a surprise. “But I think I was the first to complain? You probably got the highest score in our shared class without even showing up, I asked why and you told me to keep my, and I quote, “bunny looking ass out of it.” So, yeah.”


Taehyung chortles a laugh, licking his lips lazily and then latching them onto Jeongguk’s exposed Adam’s apple. It’s been looking delicious for the last five minutes, he wants a bite. “I remember,” he mumbles. “You can continue your original thought now.”


Rolling his eyes at the fact he’s been given permission (after being rudely interrupted), Jeongguk lifts Taehyung’s hips off the bed and settles him over his thighs. “As I was saying,” he says, gulping unintentionally when Taehyung’s teeth scrape his neck. “Before our first fight, whenever I saw you around, I was–uh, curious, but I thought you had a boyfriend already, so…”


Taehyung finally detaches from his neck, head falling back into the bed, the new position make his back arch. “Boyfriend?” He looks amused, especially when Jeongguk’s cheeks go aflame. “Who?”


Jeongguk is silent for a solid minute, possibly too embarrassed. As proven so when he dips his face back to Taehyung’s chest, teasing his nipples again (what’s with his continuous fixation there, anyways?), then lowly muttering, “J–Jimin-hyung.”


Taehyung stares at the head of messy black hair, snapping out of it when Jeongguk bites at the area around his hardened buds. “You… fuck, oh my god,” the redhead eventually laughs, he throws an arm over his eyes and betrays a laugh, “Jimin? What the fuck, why?”


Jeongguk pinches his thigh to silence him, arising a squeak of surprise from Taehyung. “I–I saw you two kissing a lot, so I just…” He trails off, voice so small it’s a wonder he’d been speaking an octave lower just thirty minutes ago. “For a while, I thought you two were like… that.”


“Like friends with benefits?” Taehyung elaborates, sighing with relief when Jeongguk’s tongue goes lower, dipping across his bellybutton. “Ah–we’re not, we’re platonic. Jimin already has two dicks he wants to suck, but you really–you thought we were fucking? What, did the thought get you hot and bothered, Jeon?”


The way Jeongguk flinches was sort of a dead giveaway. Taehyung would’ve teased him about it, if it weren’t for the fact that his dick is getting mouthed over the briefs, which get pulled off two seconds later, left around his thighs as Jeongguk swallows his cock whole. No teasing, no gag reflex, and it’s fucking heaven.


Taehyung, by any means, isn’t that small either–above average, for sure, maybe that’s why he likes to feel smaller in comparison. Even then, Jeongguk sucks him off with such little modesty and resistance, the head hitting the back of his throat only making him moan and bob his head faster.


Whimpering, Taehyung attempts to thrust his hips a little, but is stopped by Jeongguk holding his thigh in place. There is a complaint itching at his lips, but all of that dies as soon as Jeongguk slips off and moves lower, between his legs–the briefs are thrown across the room and Jeongguk is soon mouthing at his rim, like he’s fucking hungry for it.


“F–Fuck,” Taehyung gasps, one hand in Jeongguk’s hair, the other grasping at the bed covers with nothing but desperation. There is just something about being tongue-fucked, something so primal, that gets Taehyung’s knees weak. Especially when they lock around Jeongguk’s neck.


He isn’t sure for how long that goes, since Jeongguk apparently can’t even get tired from eating ass (that’s a man dedicated to his art right there), but Taehyung’s already having a hard time watching that big cock tent the front of his underwear, a small wet spot at the tip. God, he’s feeling hungry too.


“Jeon,” Taehyung tries to say, spine arching at how obscene the noises are, how hot Jeongguk looks when he pulls away to look at him, eyes hooded when he wipes the drool off his chin with the back of his hand. “I don’t wanna come like this, so just–ugh, fuck me already.”


Jeongguk, as much as he is a fan of foreplay and oral, can’t really withstand this anymore–they’ve been fucking around for how many months now? Without penetration. Because he wanted to take things slow for the first time, open Taehyung up with the upmost satisfaction, take care of him like any proper top would–without it being too romantic, of course. No romance involved, no feelings, nah uh.


It’s just really hard to resist the temptation when Taehyung sounds so desperate.


“Lube?” Jeongguk asks, he parts their bodies to give both of them a breather. Taehyung vaguely gestures in the direction of his nightstand, so Jeongguk lays him further up on the bed, on the pillow (like the gentleman that he is), then reaches for the drawer. “And I hope you have condoms that fit.”


He doesn’t have to look at Taehyung to know he rolled his eyes. “What kind of amateur size queen do you take me for?” He asks, particularly offended by the question. “I’ve got Trojan Magnum, but I’m not sure if it’ll fit you, so I suggest you go for either Durex XXL or Beyond Seven. Whichever you prefer.”


Deciding not to question Taehyung’s apparent extensive condom knowledge, Jeongguk grabs at the black packet with the bold pink words on it (reading Mega Big Boy, which is fitting), alongside to what appears to be a bottle of lube. He drops the items on the bed, then proceeds to spread Taehyung’s legs.


“It’s driving me nuts to watch you wear that,” the redhead says, pressing his foot over Jeongguk’s cloth-covered hip, but his eyes are staring right at his dick. “Get them off, Jeon.”


Clicking his tongue, Jeongguk obeys. “You’re so fucking demanding,” he says, even if the relief that washes over him upon his cock not being restricted anymore is seriously overwhelming.


Taehyung staring so hard, so eagerly, he misses Jeongguk pouring lube over his fingers and then slipping them between his cheeks. When the cold liquid presses over his hole, Taehyung hitches a keening noise and immediately pushes his hips down to suck Jeongguk’s finger in.


The younger curses under his breath, pinning him again. “Stay still,” he lowers his voice, watching the way Taehyung’s cock twitches upon the command. Interesting. “You feel… looser than usual.”


He inches another finger inside, pushing a pleasurable sigh from Taehyung’s lips. “Mm, fucked myself last night,” he explains as if it’s nothing, even if Jeongguk positively groaned at the admission. Smirking, Taehyung strokes a hand over his own chest, playing with a reddened nipple. “But the dildo’s eight inches, so I’ll still be tight for you.”


“Fuck, your mouth is foul,” Jeongguk breathes out, he directs his fingers to that part inside Taehyung he’s come to know too well in the last few months, causing him to moan.


“Y–You love it,” Taehyung laughs, he looks like a mess, covered with marks and dripping pre-cum into the dip of his stomach. What a pretty, irresistible mess. “Thought about you, y’know? H–How well–fuck–how you’ll fill me up so much I’ll barely be able to breathe.”


Jeongguk hates (let me repeat, hates) how easily Taehyung says that, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t make the arousal spreading through his body increase tenfold, driving him fucking insane. If he didn’t hate Taehyung before, he definitely hates him now, with his stupid pretty face, his amazing body, illegal voice and delicious heat wrapped around his fingers. This is so unfair.


“Yeah?” Jeongguk plays along, he’s already far too gone at this point. Occupying himself with leaving hickeys across Taehyung’s doe thigh tattoo, he pushes the third finger inside and thrusts slower. “Thought about how much I’ll stretch you out? Thought about taking my cock so well your legs would be shaking afterwards?”


Judging by the way Taehyung tightened around his fingers, it’s safe to say he likes dirty talk. Not that Jeongguk is surprised, of course.


The fourth finger is met with the first bit of resistance, but it’s needed to stretch his for his girth. Taehyung doesn’t complain, of course, just rolls his hips in a steady rhythm, nothing but whimpers of pure satisfaction leaving him. Jeongguk thinks he might be a bit of a masochist, but then again, what size queen isn’t?


“C–C’mon, just fuck me already,” Taehyung eventually has to complain, when he’s gone so loose around Jeongguk’s fingers, eyes ready to burst with tears and lips sore from biting them so much. His chest is heaving, nipples perked for attention and Jeongguk’s so distracted whilst pulling his fingers out, torturously slow.


The lube dribbles out, staining Taehyung’s thighs and making the smooth surface around his hole appear that much more delectable. Jeongguk’s mouth waters, spreading the cheeks without thought and hearing Taehyung yelp with surprise. “Fuck, I want to eat your ass again, so bad.”


Taehyung groans and kicks him in the thigh, causing Jeongguk to yelp in return. “You’ll be eating my fist if you don’t fuck me in the next five minutes, I swear to god,” he says, ready to tear at the seams of pleasure from how fucking needy he is right now.


Jeongguk laughs – like one of those breathy giggles, too cute for the way his long cock bobs against his stomach from how fucking hard he is – then fixes his hands around Taehyung’s waist. “You wanna ride me first?” He suggests, smirking all too pleased, the cheeky bastard. “Get used to it before I fuck you senseless?”


Trust him to be the type to say that with a cute smile, Taehyung wants to fucking punch him. He groans with feigned exhaustion, but nods and wiggles his hips impatiently. “Yeah, just hurry up. Can’t take it anymore,” the redhead says and much to his absolute pleasure, Jeongguk complies.


They switch positions, they stumbled a bit with being sticky from lube, but they manage with a few more giggles. Laughter dies out when Taehyung wraps his lithe fingers around the base of Jeongguk’s cock, slipping it between his cheeks and grinding up and down–god, he wishes he could put his mouth all over it right now, but there’s no time for that. Not when he’s been waiting for this for so long.


He grabs the condom, tears the packet open with his teeth (like a true professional, mind you) and presses it to Jeongguk’s dick, teasing the tip through the latex and watching the younger’s teeth grit, until he rolls it down to the base. Taehyung feels like he’s going to burst before even putting it in, fuck.


“Take it slow,” Jeongguk assures him, but Taehyung is anything but fine–he needs it so bad, he has no time to snap back with a sassy comment, can only press the head of Jeongguk’s cock to his slightly stretched rim and push down.


It feels… fuck, it’s indescribable. Taehyung hiccups as soon as the entire head slips inside, the girth of it already bigger than most of the guy’s he’d slept with and that’s just the tip, basically. He rolls his hips in a circle, it helps him relax and get used to it–also makes Jeongguk grip his hips with lube-covered fingers, but he doesn’t stop Taehyung from moving this time, gives the redhead all the space he needs.


“J–Just the head, fuck–” Taehyung whimpers, his cheeks are already wet and body shaking. He slips lower some more, the feeling of being filled up so overwhelming he has to steady himself by placing his hands over Jeongguk’s abs (totally not of purpose, to clarify). “Shit–fuck, Jeon, you’re so fucking huge.”


Unsure on whether that’s a good or bad thing right now – with the way Taehyung looks fucked out with pleasure, though with eyebrows knit in concentration – Jeongguk opts for staying silent. He’s mostly stunned with how tight and… good Taehyung feels around him, even without taking his entire size yet. And even if the slowness is torturous, he understands how difficult it must be, so he always lets the bottom set their own pace.


Taehyung, however, doesn’t take as long as he’d imagined. In just a short span, he already has half of Jeongguk’s cock inside, he’s gasping in those small “ah-ah” noises and humping at it with upmost need and pleasurable torment.


“T–Too–fuck, I can’t b–believe I’m saying this, but you’re huge, I just–” He suddenly starts to break, still pushing his hips lower, inches away from taking the entire thing. “You’re so deep, ah–mm, more, I need more.”


Jeongguk grabs one of Taehyung’s wrist, fingers rubbing over the heartbeat line he’s got tattooed there – he gets on his elbows, then brings the hand to his mouth, kissing it and pulling Taehyung towards him. The redhead hiccups, especially when Jeongguk bites at the small yin engraved over the side of wrist, almost as an affection.


“Told you to take it slow,” Jeongguk whispers, he lets Taehyung’s hand go so he can hold onto his shoulder, but brings his own to the redhead’s lower back, pressing over the dip of it. His mouth is on Taehyung’s nipples, already too sensitive and reactive for him in the last several months spent together.


“A–Are you trying to distract me with your nipple fetish, Jeon?” Taehyung pretends to complain, even if he well knows Jeongguk made him like this.


“Take it slow,” Jeongguk says, almost as a warning, but it sounds like he cares. He pushes Taehyung down some more, eliciting a small gasp. “Just a few more inches, Kim, and you’d take the entire thing. That’ll satisfy you, yeah?”


Fuck him for knowing exactly what to say. Pulling away from Jeongguk’s greedy mouth, Taehyung focuses on his initial task–his breaths are ragged, sure, but it’s not his first time at this rodeo. But this is Jeon Jeongguk, his–actually, screw calling him a rival at this point, who knows what the fuck they are anymore. Taehyung just knows he wants that entire dick inside of him right now.


Jeongguk unexpectedly pinches both of his nipples, a simultaneous tug to both of them that causes Taehyung to whimper, promptly seating himself flush on Jeongguk’s lap. He slaps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from drooling, he’s so overwhelmed that it’s exhausting, “A–Ah, so f–full, mm…”


On the other hand, Jeongguk can only screw his eyes shut for a small moment, but he can’t help but have to look at Taehyung again. Over the intense, most delicious heat around his cock, he only keeps noticing the stretch of Taehyung’s sore body, his marked skin, expression filled with bliss.


“You’re so–ugh,” Jeongguk grunts, throws his head back for a moment to let his lungs fill with air. “S’ fucking pretty like this, fuck.”


The compliment slips between them, a rarity as it is. Taehyung soon finds himself adjusting, he’s rocking and humping, he wants Jeongguk to move. There is this insatiable need inside him, to be filled, to be fucked so hard he forgets his own damn name.


“F–Fucking move, ah,” Taehyung attempts to lean forward, but the action causes Jeongguk’s cock to go even deeper (if that’s even possible at this point), making another bout of tears leave his eyes. “J–Jeon, c’mon already.”


“Say please,” Jeongguk lets it slip before even thinking it through, but it’s worth it with the way Taehyung’s round eyes widen, blush spreading to the tips of his ears. But his mouth is pulled in a tight line, clearly refusing. Jeongguk laughs at that expression, tucks a strand of hair behind Taehyung’s ear and then leans into it, “I won’t move until you beg me, Kim. And maybe then, I’ll just fuck you silly.”


Taehyung is a prideful one, of course, he shakes his head no while trying to slip himself up and down–attempting to ride Jeongguk until the crack of dawn, thank you very much–but his hips are pinned in place, making it impossible to move. Curse Jeongguk’s strength and his fucking muscles, those damn biceps and rough hands, it’s infuriatingly hot, what the fuck.


The safe words are in place, but Taehyung doesn’t want to use them–he’s resistant because this is Jeongguk, of all people, he’d be begging to fuck him. This wouldn’t be an issue with any other partner, but to plead right now would be low-key humiliating–which is, now that he thinks about it, really hot.


If losing this entire game costs him being submissive to Jeongguk and getting the dick of his life, Taehyung really doesn’t care anymore.


“Jeon, please,” he says, arms wrapped around the younger’s neck and hearing his breath hitch with surprise. Cute. “Please, just–I can’t take it anymore, your cock fills me so nicely and it’s all I can think about. Please, fuck me like you think I deserve.”


Well, that proves to be about enough – at least with the way Jeongguk growls, then pulls Taehyung off and gets him on his knees in the duration of less than ten seconds. Taehyung makes a gurgled noise in the back of his throat from how sudden it all is, hands fisting the sheets when Jeongguk eases his cock back inside him with little resistance or hesitation.


Jeongguk watches how his length disappears inside Taehyung, how Taehyung arches his back and sobs into the pillow–oh yeah, they call him a pillow prince, is this it? Yeah, he does look royal. In order not to bust one too soon, Jeongguk’s eyes fall over Taehyung’s exposed back as a distraction, he notices a constellation tattoo at the lower end of it – from his limited knowledge of astronomy, this is Capricorn, right? Possibly his birth sign.


“M–More, Jeon, more,” Taehyung says through gasps, request fulfilled when Jeongguk fucks all of it inside him in one go, filling him to the brim, their thighs pressed together. It’s so good, so, so good.


Jeongguk can’t help himself but lean over to nip on Taehyung’s left shoulder blade – he’s got larger ink piece there, that of a forest landscape with a showcased sky, a small Sun between bright clouds. Interestingly enough, on a log in the forest sits a small entirety, a fairy with blonde hair in a green dress–is it Tinkerbelle? It’s barely noticeable, not unless you get this close.


“I swear to god, if you’re analyzing my tattoos instead of fucking me right now, I’ll kick your head off,” Taehyung suddenly threatens, but his voice is too throaty to hold any heat. Jeongguk laughs and pulls out slowly, thrusting back inside experimentally. “Fuck, like that.”


Jeongguk mouths over his nape next. “Say please again,” he teases, thrusting shallowly.


Please,” Taehyung doesn’t even hesitate this time, it falls from his lips out of instinct, like he can’t even help it anymore. It sends all of Jeongguk’s nerves haywire.


Holding Taehyung by the waist, he pulls him back into his thrusts again and again, until Taehyung is sobbing into his pillow, clutching at it for dear life. Never, in a million fucking years, would’ve Jeongguk thought he’d have the Kim Taehyung begging to be fucked by him like this.


With the way Taehyung is grinding his hips into Jeongguk’s cock, broken syllables falling from his lips, the younger would assume he’s eager for it–he continues to thrust in a steady rhythm, not as rough as he can be, but he holds back enough to extend the period of pleasure. Taehyung feels fucking amazing around him, it’s purely antagonizing to think that of all people, the two of them would be so compatible (but also, what else is to be expected?).


Jeongguk kisses lower, licks a stripe down the middle of Taehyung’s spine. “Hyung,” the word slips out without him thinking it through, but assuming with the way Taehyung’s body spasms under his touch, it’s safe to assume he doesn’t particularly mind the honorific that deems them as close. “Hyung, do you want it slow?”


Taehyung shakes his head with desperation, he lets out another gasp when Jeongguk thrusts deep, the gratification of being so open, so easy to take and filled up making him dizzy. He bites at the exposed skin of his right hand, preventing himself from making any more embarrassing noises (because the squelching sounds are already enough).


“N–No, fuck–” Taehyung curses, groaning when rough palms fondle his asscheeks, parting them, making him feel more exposed than he already is. “Rough, I–I want it hard, please.”


Jeongguk pulls out once more, for the sake of getting the redhead to lay on his back–one soft pillow tucked under his hips, quivering legs spread open and immediately wrapping around Jeongguk to pull him in. The younger laughs, he leans over and attempts to press his dick inside once more, but ends up slipping it between Taehyung’s cheeks.


The both of them laugh, despite how awkward it is with their current mood. “F–Fucking hell, you can’t even fuck me properly, Jeon,” Taehyung says, words dying when a blunt head it pressed to his hole. Jeongguk rocks only half of his length inside, making Taehyung keen with need.


“Really now?” Jeongguk asks, his mouth is all over Taehyung’s neck, his ridiculously red hair. “Should I just pull out?”


Taehyung tugs him in on his own accord, which makes both groan, but the slide is so easy and so effortless, it almost makes it seem like they’ve been fucking for hours on end. Jeongguk barely gets the time to see Taehyung’s expression, watch his face twist with upmost pleasure when he fucks him all nice and slow, like it’s second nature.


“Pretty pillow prince,” Jeongguk mutters, feeling like he’s drunk on lust. Tugging Taehyung’s head back by the hair, he latches his lips to the exposed column of his neck and sucks, sensing the way Taehyung’s body trembles, every word falling from him is incoherent. “Such a pretty prince, Taehyung-ah.”


Something about being complimented by someone who always refused to acknowledge your capabilities is so… hot, for whatever fucked up reason. Being called by his name, however, with no honorific whatsoever is just–fuck, Taehyung feels like he can’t even breathe. Especially when Jeongguk lifts his lower body off the bed and his cock reaches places it hasn’t before.


A perk of sleeping with big guys? They tend to hit the prostate without question, brushing against it every time they thrust. Jeongguk, apparently, doesn’t deem that enough, he’s also rhythmic and precise, in a way it makes Taehyung feel that more secure and taken care of.


“J–Jeongguk,” Taehyung gasps out on reflex and hell, it sounds too good falling from his lips. “I–I can’t–anymore–”


(Let’s signify their eventual downfall to reconciliation by them using each other’s first names, yeah? Sounds better too.)


Taehyung feels like there is weight pressing down on him and it’s everywhere–actually, Jeongguk is everywhere, inside him, on top of him, any part of his body those rough hands manage to grab, Taehyung feels like bursting at the seams. The orgasm that is building up isn’t even steady, it’s staggering and makes his body twitch. He really, really can’t take it anymore, it’s been too long.


“Y–You’re gonna come?” Jeongguk manages to stutter out, his voice is completely broken. He looks drunk too, but everything in Taehyung’s vision is starting to become blurry, dizzy. It all blacks out when Jeongguk takes his neglected cock, then presses the palm over the tip and rubs.


Taehyung doesn’t think he’s ever sobbed that hard before, head turned to catch the material of the pillow between his teeth, drool sliding down his chin and tears wetting his face. It’s building up, twisting his stomach in knots and when he gasps a small, “C–Coming,” his entire world turns upside down.


Jeongguk’s breathless, he removes his palm the split second after Taehyung comes, normal at first, several spurts across his stomach, but after five seconds… this doesn’t even look like proper ejaculation anymore–no, it’s too thin and there’s too much of it to be sperm or whatever, but he can’t be–is this…


“C–Can’t–ahh–” Taehyung sobs, arms thrown over his eyes because his body can’t keep shuddering, the pleasure rattling him to his very core. “I–It won’t stop–J–Jeongguk, what the fuck, hhng–


Squirting. Yeah, that’s what it is. Jeongguk’s so aroused, so blown by the fact that he made Taehyung squirt, milking him fucking dry, that he’s snapping his hips forward only a few more times (the jabs to Taehyung’s prostate only making his whines pitch higher in volume, penetrating the room and sparing them of any humiliating sounds) and Jeongguk comes, he gasps and climaxes in a way he hasn’t before.


It goes on for who knows how fucking long, just until both of them are gasping for air and too lightheaded to buck an inch. Jeongguk pulls out, knowing Taehyung must be sensitive with the way he’s grasping at the sheets and trying to catch a breath over his overflowing tears–Jesus, they were pretty tame and vanilla with the sex, yet it feels like they’ve went overboard.


“Hey, Kim–hyung,” Jeongguk corrects himself, he leans over and gathers Taehyung under the armpits, pulling him to his lap. Taehyung seems too out of it to do anything but wrap himself around Jeongguk like a koala. “How ‘bout I give you a bath? Then I can change the sheets and tuck you in.”


Taehyung keens, pressing their bodies flush together. It’s skin on skin, hot and wet, but neither of them mind. His voice is too hoarse to speak, but he does nod.


“Sleep over tonight,” he whispers against Jeongguk’s neck. “Want cuddles.”


Jeongguk blushes, tightening his hold on Taehyung’s waist. “Of course, yeah.”


“And a date too,” Taehyung then adds, he sounds too determined for his tired state. “Take me out tomorrow, Jeon. Wanna see if there’s more than your big dick to qualify you as boyfriend material.”


This is… real? Fuck. “Of course,” Jeongguk repeats, he kisses Taehyung behind the ear with a smile itching at his lips. “I’ll try to make myself worthy, Kim.”



  • chat: 97’ abominations (+gguk)


jeon smith
so, uh
i think all of you are owing kunpi bet money



mighty min
excuse me


donkey kong
am i dreaming

you’ve got to be fucking kidding me




So, new semester. New school year, another upcoming eight months worth of suffering, crying into your assignments at three in the morning and substituting every meal with cold ramen (or that’s what they say college life is like, who even knows anymore?). There isn’t a welcoming party until the weekend and even then, everyone’s been strung out over graduation season to have it in them to drink anymore vodka.


The cafeteria is booming, loud with reunions and people complaining about private universities still having bad cafeteria food. Taehyung doesn’t particularly care, he drops his salad on the table and settles down with a sigh, accidentally kicking Jimin the shin.


Seokjin chortles when Jimin looks about ready to complain, but Taehyung’s face is already drawn tight into a frown. “It’s fucking ridiculous that I told them I don’t want the photographs portrayed anywhere in school, yet they hang them in the main hall,” he says. “This is so stupid.”


Yoongi pulls the lollipop out of his mouth, lips a cheery red from the food coloring. “I mean, wasn’t your last assignment nearly perfect? I heard professor Park begged you and Jeongguk to let him display it,” he points out.


“I mean, the Dean requested for it to be shown, Taehyung,” Seokjin then adds. “Not a lot you can do about it.”


Sure, their photographs were impressive, outlandish and whatever other descriptor they used, but Jeongguk wasn’t really keen on having them displayed when they were the reason the two of them go so much closer, understood each other a lot better. It feels like having your vulnerability exposed, but like Seokjin said, nothing can be done now.


“And where were you for the last… I don’t know, month or so?” Jimin then asks, eyebrow raised. His entire lunchbox has been stolen by Yoongi, who’s now establishing a close relationship with chicken nuggets.


“Just... visiting,” Taehyung answers, he opens his salad and grabs at his fork with an expression of indifference. Jimin is clearly expecting more of an explanation. “Visiting a friend in Gangnam, okay? I spent some time there.”


“I got photos of you in Cheongdam-dong two weeks ago,” Seokjin then says, as if it’s particularly normal for him to have that sort of information. It can be scary sometimes, how far his resources reach, as if he’s fucking Izaya Orihara in Ikebukuro or something.


Yoongi looks suspicious now too–well, he more so knows, but wants to grill Taehyung on it. “Jeongguk lives in that area,” he proclaims, even if that part is quite obvious–where else would rich kids live, hello?


Taehyung bites at his tongue on accident, wincing when his cheeks brighten. Listen, he may or may have not spent a few days (or maybe an entire week) at Jeongguk’s apartment after graduation season, just… getting to know each other. And fucking on every surface available–thank god Jeongguk’s parents let him live alone, when they can’t bother to pay him genuine affection.


And because everything is coincidental, jus then, Jeon Jeongguk and his clique of friends walk into the cafeteria, looking freshly cut out for school as always. Jeongguk, in his pressed uniform, no jacket and squeaky clean shoes, looks happy to be there, ugh. What kind of masochist likes going to school?


When their eyes meet, Taehyung nips at his bottom lip, breaking out into a grin. “Jeon,” he can’t help but call, watching his rival (very worn term) turn on his way to his friends’ table, blinking like a cute rabbit. “Your tie’s a mess. Your new boyfriend couldn’t fix it for you?”


Jeongguk’s cheeks flush, when the cafeteria is looking in their direction. He loosens his tie and pulls it off completely, making a scene (Taehyung must’ve rubbed that off on him, and not in the literal sense). Jeongguk laughs, he doesn’t look particularly annoyed, “Please, go fuck yourself, Kim. Maybe then you’ll be less prissy.”


Taehyung huffs a laugh. “Come and do it yourself, coward.”


He only gets a scoff of disbelief from the younger, before their confrontation ends there. When Taehyung turns back to his friends, he finds them staring with particular interest.


“Okay, what the hell was that about?” Jimin asks, he doesn’t even hide his confusion when turning to look in Jeongguk’s direction, where he’s sitting close by. “Did you two just… get along? You’ve been acting weird around him since graduation.”


Well, getting along for them means not escalating to the point either of them turns red and speechless, which hasn’t been as frequent in the last few months. But, well… no one needs to know about that, for now. Not yet, at least.


“Jimin, baby, it’s better not to ask,” Yoongi shakes his head, choosing not to comment on this entire exchange when the intents are so obvious.


“Who’s throwing this year’s Halloween party?” Taehyung then asks, biting at a juicy piece of chicken (besides, who even eats the greens in their salad?). Asking this is crucial because, well… you have to get your costume ready on time, of course. Especially if you’re matching (but not that he is).


“It’ll be at the frat this year,” Seokjin replies. “So, it’s kind of obvious.”


Taehyung raises an eyebrow, lips lifting into a grin. “Jackson?”


“Yup,” Yoongi nods his head. “Best time of the year to dress slutty without an excuse and get hypothermia because it’s on the brink of winter and freezing outside.”


“Also,” Jimin emphasizes. “Couples costumes.”


Yoongi gives him a weary look. “If you and Hoseok want to get dressed as those two loudmouths from Boku no Hero Academia and expect of me to follow you like that green-haired midget, you can forget about it,” he states with a blank look, to which Jimin seems displeased.


“It only makes sense for you to be Deku when you’re the bottom between the three of us–ow!” He starts to say, but yelps when Yoongi kicks him under the table.


Taehyung watches them fight with Seokjin’s windshield laughter in the background, his eyes unintentionally fall back to the other side of the room–Jeongguk’s already looking his way, a pretty blush on his cheeks. Annoying git, who gave him the right to look that good? Taehyung’s gonna strangle him later.


Besides, Halloween’s not that far off.



“Sick costume, man!” Kunpimook says in that overly exaggerated American accent, slapping Jeongguk on the shoulder when they meet in an empty room of the frat house. The slap sends him hauling forward, for which Heeyeon almost messes up the black eye shadow she’s applying under Jeongguk’s eyes. For that, she pops Kunpimook on the shoulder with her hairbrush.


Stop,” she hisses, very much appropriate with her cat-woman costume. “He’s supposed to look like the Joker, not an actual joke. Let me do my job.”


Jeongguk huffs a laugh, but he doesn’t really mind–feels nice, actually, to get to pretend to be someone else, dye your hair and put on fake tattoos, wear makeup and dress ‘provocatively,’ or whatever else he’d never been allowed to do before. Maybe he wouldn’t have done it this year, if it weren’t for him.


“Stand up,” Heeyeon says after doing her last touch-up of the red lips, straightening Jeongguk’s shirt once he follows her command. She opens a few more buttons, revealing some  more skin under the thick, violet blazer. “Good, you look good. Green looks amazing on you, by the way.”


Jeongguk smiles sheepishly, he adjusts his clothing and heads for the door, his nerves already on the edge. Kunpimook, dressed as a–uh, mouse? (Koala? Jeongguk’s not entirely sure what it exactly is, to be honest), follows close after, arms crossed. “You know we banned Harley outfits two years ago, right?” Is what he says. “So I’m not sure what this partner of yours is gonna wear.”


With a laugh, Jeongguk opens the door. “Don’t worry, he’s never been the one to follow rules.”


The music outside is moderately loud, the room is bright with neon lights and people dancing in the most inappropriate costumes you can imagine. Jeongguk looks about, catches quite the several stares in his direction, soon gathered by quite a few familiar faces.


“Yo, Jeon!” Jackson, in his… uh, frat boy (?) costume, yells as he walks over with two plastic red cups probably filled with some cheap alcohol (for such a snobby university, they sure have a liking for low-class tequila). “Man, you look great! Joker, eh?”


Kunpimook laughs, he walks over to cling on Jackson’s arm. “All he’s missing is a Harley.”


And speaking of that


Daddy!” There’s a loud shout from across the room, freshly dyed blond hair coming into view, with bits of both pink and blue at the sides; same with the makeup, the outfit, ripped fishnets with exposed tattoos, messy lips and a small heart to the side of his eye–god, he looks fucking stunning.


Jeongguk grins as Taehyung runs over, he doesn’t mind people staring (“fucking let them stare,” is what Taehyung told him prior to all of this). He meets him halfway across the room, almost stumbling over when Taehyung leaps into his arms, laughing. What a fucking joy.


“Puddin’,” Jeongguk greets jokingly, when Taehyung winds one arm around Jeongguk’s neck, still holding his baseball bat in the other (he really went full out with this costume, huh?). He looks so pretty. “Happy to see me?”


Taehyung giggles, eyes twinkling in the neon lights. “Shut up, Jeongguk,” he muttered, tugging him in by the hair and colliding their red-coated lips together in the middle of the fucking party, where the entire campus pretty much sees them. Kissing. Like they’re together (which they are, but y’know–kinda hard to digest at the moment).


After telling their friends and going through a various range of reactions (expressions varying from Yoongi’s “I knew it,” to Jimin’s “you bitch, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier”), there’s nothing they’re unprepared for.


The amount of whooping and cheering they get for that kiss alone is ridiculous, like when someone does a motivational speech in a bad high school movie. Jeongguk’s entirely sure this was expected when they break apart, with Taehyung being particularly proud to show them off and making a scene like he always does–but eh, Jeongguk is coming to love that part of him as well.


He just hopes Heeyeon won’t raise hell on him for messing up his lipstick–not entirely his fault, to be fair.


“Attention whore,” Jeongguk laughs, goodheartedly, when Taehyung ceases the kiss to nuzzle his neck in return. Jeongguk’s afraid to grab anything below the waist, because he bets the small shorts leave little to the imagination. And there is only so much he can handle. “I can’t believe I went along with this.”


Taehyung tilts his head when Jeongguk’s teeth find his ear, grazing it down to his dangling earring. “Why not?” He asks. “You told me blond would look so good on me you’d actually get mad about it.”


“Which I am, but–” Jeongguk says, sucking a spot behind Taehyung’s ear and feeling him go slightly limp under his touch. “Joker and Harley weren’t even enemies, they were two supposedly crazy people in a toxic relationship.”


“Yeah, but I figured you wouldn’t want me to show up as slutty Batman,” Taehyung points out, but when Jeongguk pulls away with an expression of sheer confusion, he tilts his head in question, “What’s up?”


“Behind your ear, you, uh–” Jeongguk’s not sure how to say it, he lifts his hand and grazes a single finger over the spot he’d been nibbling on just a moment ago. “I didn’t know you had a tattoo here. Why the red string?”


Taehyung shrugs, he can’t help but smile. “I like to mock common beliefs with tattoos,” he answers, pulling Jeongguk in once more. “And what better thing to mock than fate? Which is ironic, because I must be the luckiest fucking size queen alive.”


▬ the (long awaited) end ▬