#taekookfic

🔥 Main Characters & Their Nature

1️⃣ Jeon Jungkook (Professor Jeon)

Role: Taehyung’s strict, no-nonsense professor

Nature: Cold, dominant, possessive, enjoys control, mercilessly teasing

Weakness: Taehyung’s body, his bratty defiance, the way he begs

What makes him dangerous? Once his control snaps, he turns into an obsessive, relentless force of pure carnal hunger.

2️⃣ Kim Taehyung (Student)

Role: The mischievous student who knows how to get what he wants

Nature: Seductive, bratty, loves to tease, secretly craves submission

Weakness: Jungkook’s dominance, being overstimulated to the point of tears

What makes him dangerous? His ability to tempt Jungkook into breaking every rule in the book.

⚠️ Reader Warning – The Naughty Scholarship⚠️

This oneshot contains highly explicit, dark, and intense sexual content. Please read responsibly.

🔞 Strictly 18+ | NSFW | Dub-Con Themes 🔞

❌ Do Not Read If You Are Uncomfortable With:

✔ Power Play & Authority Kink (Professor/Student) ✔ Explicit Throat Fucking & Overstimulation ✔ Brat Taming & Rough Domination ✔ Humiliation, Degradation & Filthy Dirty Talk ✔ Excessive Cumplay & Marking ✔ Public Teasing with High Tension

This is a fictional, exaggerated fantasy meant for entertainment. If you are sensitive to rough, explicit content, please proceed with caution.

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Summary

“So fucking wet for me,” Jeon groaned, pressing down harder, making Taehyung whine.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes sirrrr,” Taehyung gasped, bucking his hips, chasing friction. “Fuck, yes—”

Jeon smirked, then ripped the skirt fabric clean off, leaving Taehyung bare panty and exposed beneath him. He wasted no time, dragging his fingers through the mess, teasing the sensitive, swollen flesh, watching as Taehyung trembled beneath his touch.

“Be a good boy,” Jeon ordered, voice deep, rough. “Now… tell me what doubts you have….”

“Book”, Taehyung mumbled with trembling legs.

Jeon raised his eyebrows.

The moment Taehyung settled onto Jeon’s lap, it was over.

The excuse was laughable—reaching for a book too high up—but Jeon wasn’t a fool. He felt every calculated movement, every slow, sinful grind of Taehyung’s hips against his aching cock. The teasing press of his ass, the clench of his thighs locking around Jeon’s own, the wicked roll of his body that screamed I know exactly what I’m doing to you.

Word Count : 3665 WORDS

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The Naughty scholarship

The lecture hall was filled with the soft hum of students scribbling notes, the occasional shuffle of papers breaking the silence. Professor Jeon stood at the front, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms as he leaned against the desk, scanning the room with an unreadable expression.

Taehyung sat in the middle row, legs lazily spread apart, fingers tapping idly against the desk as if he were bored. But the glint in his eyes told another story. He knew exactly what he was doing—testing the patience of the man standing at the front of the room.

Jungkook’s gaze flickered toward him, lingering for just a second too long. Taehyung smirked, tilting his head to the side as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, a silent challenge.

Jungkook exhaled sharply through his nose before turning back to the board. "Since some of you seem distracted today," his voice was smooth but edged with something sharper, "let’s test your understanding." His eyes cut back to Taehyung, a flicker of amusement hidden in their depths.

"Kim Taehyung," he called.

Taehyung arched a brow, feigning innocence. "Yes, Professor?"

"Come up here and solve the problem on the board."

The room stirred with quiet murmurs as all eyes turned to him. Taehyung stretched lazily before rising to his feet, deliberately slow, his movements sleek and unbothered. The smug smirk on his face widened as he sauntered toward the front, his gaze never breaking from Jungkook’s.

When he reached the board, Jungkook handed him the marker, his fingers brushing against Taehyung’s in the briefest of touches—electric, lingering.

Taehyung shivered, gripping the marker as he turned to the board. His eyes flickered over the problem, but he barely registered it. His focus was elsewhere—on the heat radiating from Jungkook’s body, on the way the professor’s eyes darkened as he stepped closer.

"You do know how to solve this, don’t you?" Jungkook murmured, his voice low enough that only Taehyung could hear.

Taehyung smirked. "I might need some… guidance, Professor." His voice dripped with mock innocence, his fingers gripping the marker a little too tightly.

Jungkook hummed, stepping even closer, just enough for Taehyung to feel the warmth of his breath against his ear. "Then pay attention."

His hand lifted, fingers grazing along Taehyung’s wrist as he guided him toward the right answer, but his touch lingered—intentionally slow, dangerously deliberate.

Taehyung swallowed hard, the phantom heat of Jungkook’s fingers igniting something deep in his stomach. His grip on the marker faltered, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Focus," Jungkook murmured, his voice a quiet command.

Taehyung exhaled shakily, his throat suddenly dry. He could feel the weight of the entire class watching him, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. Only Jungkook existed in his world—the heat between them, the unspoken promise lingering in the air.

"Sit down when you're done," Jungkook finally said, stepping back, his expression unreadable once more. "And see me after class."

Taehyung bit his lip, suppressing a grin. Oh, he would.

And he planned to fail—again and again—until Jungkook had no choice but to teach him a lesson he’d never forget.

***

The air inside Professor Jeon’s office was thick with the scent of aged books, ink, and something faintly smoky—his cologne, rich and dark. The dim light from the desk lamp cast warm shadows across the room, giving everything a sultry glow. He sat at his desk, rigid posture, sharp eyes scanning the papers before him. The red pen in his grip clicked rhythmically against the wood, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

Then, there was a knock.

Soft. Almost hesitant.

The door creaked open, and then he stepped in.

Kim Taehyung.

A walking sin, a temptation wrapped in innocence.

Jeon's gaze flickered up, and his grip on the pen tightened. The younger man wore a crisp white blouse, the fabric stretched taut over his soft, perky breasts, the subtle lace of his bra teasing through the fabric. His plaid skirt sat far too high on his thick thighs, dangerously close to revealing more than it should. And his lips— fuck , those lips—were cherry red, glistening as he dragged his tongue slowly across them, like a cat about to devour its prey.

“Professor,” Taehyung purred, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He turned the lock with an almost obscene slowness. Click.

Jeon exhaled through his nose, trying to focus.

“You’re late,” he muttered, pretending not to notice the way Taehyung’s body moved—hips swaying, chest rising with each deliberate breath.

Taehyung smiled, placing his books down on the desk with exaggerated grace. “I was reviewing the material,” he said, tilting his head. “But I still don’t quite understand…”

His fingers trailed over the book’s cover absentmindedly before he leaned forward, resting his weight against the desk. The movement was slow, calculated—his cleavage now right there , spilling slightly through the gaping buttons of his blouse and fuck… it’s bouncing… when Taehyung walked towards him.

Jeon clenched his jaw.

His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the pen, his cock twitching under the desk.

“What part don’t you understand?” he asked, voice steady. Cold. Pretending he wasn’t already hard.

Taehyung sighed dramatically, lips curling in an almost mocking pout. “Mmm, this part right here,” he murmured, flipping open a page with absolutely no interest in the words printed on it. His real focus was Jeon.

His eyes flickered up, dark lashes fluttering as he peeked at him through the strands of his honey-colored hair.

Jeon’s patience wavered.

“Sit properly,” he ordered.

Taehyung only smirked.

“But I am sitting properly, sir.”

His voice dipped an octave lower, turning sultry, his thighs parting slightly as he leaned back against the desk. His skirt rode higher—just enough for Jeon to glimpse the lace edges of his white panties, the slight hint of wetness forming at the center.

Jeon swallowed.

Fuck.

His cock was throbbing now, pressing against the zipper of his slacks, hot and aching. He needed to regain control—needed to stop staring .

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Taehyung.” His voice was tight, strained.

The younger boy giggled, tilting his head. “Am I?”

Slowly, agonizingly, he reached up, toying with the top button of his blouse.

Pop.

It came undone.

The soft swell of his breasts peeked through, smooth and teasing, the edge of his lace bra barely visible.

Jeon exhaled harshly, his fingers flexing against the desk.

“Do you ever really help your students, Professor?” Taehyung mused, his voice dripping with mischief.

Jeon stiffened, but before he could respond, Taehyung was moving again— lowering himself , sliding off the desk and onto his knees between Jeon’s legs.

The breath left Jeon’s lungs in one slow, controlled exhale.

Taehyung rested his palms against Jeon’s thighs, fingers tracing gentle patterns over the fabric of his slacks.

“You seem tense, sir,” he murmured, glancing up through his lashes. “Maybe I should help you relax before we start our lesson?”

His fingers moved higher, closer, heat radiating from the space between them.

Jeon’s breathing was shallow now, sharp and clipped.

“You’re pushing your luck,” he growled, warning thick in his tone.

But Taehyung only giggled again, tilting his head.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he spread his legs wider , sinking lower between Jeon’s thighs, his skirt riding up so high that his panties were barely covering him anymore.

“Professor…” he whispered, his voice nothing more than a sinful plea. “Teach me something useful , won’t you?”

And Jeon snapped .

Professor Jeon was a man of control.

But control was the last thing he had now.

His white dress shirt stuck to his skin, damp with heat, the fabric pulled taut over his broad chest and hard-cut abs. His sleeves were rolled up, veins standing thick along his forearms as he gripped the edge of his desk, knuckles white from the pressure. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached, every muscle in his body wound like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

Taehyung was testing him.

The younger man was on his knees, nestled between Jeon’s thighs, fingers dragging slow, teasing lines over the professor’s powerful legs. The touch was featherlight, infuriatingly gentle, sending sharp jolts of arousal straight to Jeon’s cock. His slacks did nothing to hide the obscene bulge pressing insistently against the fabric, the ache unbearable. The outline of his thick length was shamelessly visible, straining against the zipper, throbbing with every teasing stroke of Taehyung’s hands.

And Taehyung—fucking Taehyung—was watching.

His lips curled in sinful delight, dark eyes locked onto the shape of Jeon’s erection, his fingers ghosting over the pulsing heat of it without ever truly touching.

“Professor…” His voice was nothing but a whisper, warm breath fanning over Jeon’s clothed cock. “You look so tense.”

Jeon exhaled sharply, his fists flexing against the desk. “Taehyung.” A warning. A threat. A plea.

But the younger man only giggled, tongue flicking out to wet his lips, the tip just barely grazing the sensitive ridge of Jeon’s trapped cock. The professor twitched violently, breath hitching, and Taehyung hummed in satisfaction.

“So sensitive,” he murmured, dragging a single fingertip over the prominent ridge. “Are you aching for me, sir?”

Jeon’s control was shattering. His thighs trembled under Taehyung’s touch, his cock throbbing so hard he was sure he’d rip through the fabric if he didn’t get relief soon. His breath turned ragged, chest rising and falling with barely restrained desperation.

“I should punish you,” he growled, voice wrecked, rough with need. “You don’t know when to stop.”

Taehyung smirked, fingers dancing up Jeon’s thighs, stopping just short of where he needed them most.

“Then stop me,” he whispered, tilting his head, lips dangerously close. “Or are you too weak?”

Jeon snapped.

With a feral growl, he fisted Taehyung’s hair, yanking him up onto the desk, forcing his legs apart in a single commanding motion. Taehyung gasped, the sound sinful, legs spreading wide as Jeon caged him in, his massive frame pressing him down into the wood. His skirt rode up, leaving nothing to the imagination—just smooth, exposed skin and a damp patch of fabric barely covering anything at all.

Jeon exhaled harshly, nostrils flaring, his cock pressing insistently against Taehyung’s bare thigh.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he rasped, dipping low, lips brushing against the shell of Taehyung’s ear.

Taehyung shivered beneath him, fingers digging into Jeon’s biceps, nails biting into taut, straining muscle.

“Then teach me a lesson, Professor,” he breathed, voice drenched in wicked temptation.

Jungkook pushed Taehyung’s face between his legs.

A sharp inhale tore from him as Taehyung licked a long, slow stripe along the outline of his cock, tongue pressing against the rigid heat trapped behind fabric. The professor’s body jerked violently, his cock twitching, begging to be freed.

Taehyung smirked. “You’re throbbing, sir. So fucking big, so thick.” His fingers traced the outline, pressing just enough to make Jeon hiss. “I bet you’d feel so good stretching me open.”

Jeon’s control shattered. With a low, dangerous growl, he grabbed Taehyung by the jaw, forcing his lips open as he leaned down, shoving two fingers into his mouth without warning. The younger man moaned around them, eyes fluttering shut, tongue lapping eagerly at the digits as Jeon fucked them into his mouth, rough and unrelenting.

“Since you like teasing so much,” Jeon growled, voice thick with something dark, “let’s see how well you take.”

Taehyung whimpered, sucking hard, hollowing his cheeks around Jeon’s fingers, his own thighs clenching as arousal shot through him. He was soaked, dripping onto the desk beneath him, body begging for more.

Jeon yanked his fingers free, gripping Taehyung’s chin roughly, forcing him to look up at him. His lips were swollen, slick with spit, his breath ragged.

“Good boy,” Jeon murmured, wiping the wetness off on Taehyung’s own flushed cheek. Then he shoved him back onto the desk, spreading his legs wide, shoving his skirt up until it bunched around his hips. Ripped the skirt. His fingers pressed against the soaked panty fabric covering Taehyung’s most sensitive spot, rubbing slow, torturous circles.

“So fucking wet for me,” Jeon groaned, pressing down harder, making Taehyung whine. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes,” Taehyung gasped, bucking his hips, chasing friction. “Fuck, yes—”

Jeon smirked, then ripped the skirt fabric clean off, leaving Taehyung bare panty and exposed beneath him. He wasted no time, dragging his fingers through the mess, teasing the sensitive, swollen flesh, watching as Taehyung trembled beneath his touch.

“Be a good boy,” Jeon ordered, voice deep, rough. “Now… tell me what doubts you have….”

“Book”, Taehyung mumbled with trembling legs.

Jeon raised his eyebrows.

The moment Taehyung settled onto Jeon’s lap, it was over.

The excuse was laughable—reaching for a book too high up—but Jeon wasn’t a fool. He felt every calculated movement, every slow, sinful grind of Taehyung’s hips against his aching cock. The teasing press of his ass, the clench of his thighs locking around Jeon’s own, the wicked roll of his body that screamed I know exactly what I’m doing to you.

Jeon’s fingers dug into the arms of his chair, white-knuckled, his entire body strung tight. His cock pulsed violently, trapped beneath Taehyung’s heat, pressing up so thick and swollen against the curve of his ass through the frustrating layers of fabric.

A sharp inhale. A slow, shaky exhale.

And then—he snapped.

A startled gasp left Taehyung’s lips as Jeon wrenched him off his lap and threw him onto the desk. Papers scattered, books tumbled, but Jeon didn’t give a fuck. His large hands flattened him against the polished wood, fingers curling possessively around his hips, shoving him into position with a brutal, commanding force.

The professor, the disciplined, unshakable man—gone. What was left was pure, unrestrained hunger.

The first slap landed so hard that Taehyung’s breath hitched, a choked moan spilling from his lips. Another followed, sharp and possessive, sending a sting rippling through his flesh. Heat licked at his spine, burning hot and deep, making his knees go weak.

“You think you can tease me and just fucking walk away?” Jeon growled, his voice thick, guttural, dripping with a hunger that made Taehyung’s stomach twist with arousal. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”

Taehyung whimpered, his fingers gripping the desk as he pressed back, offering himself up shamelessly.

“Then show me , sir.”

A dark, wicked chuckle vibrated from Jeon’s chest as he leaned in, his breath searing against Taehyung’s ear. His weight pressed down, trapping him between hard wood and something even harder.

“Oh, I will ,” he murmured, his fingers shoving beneath Taehyung’s skirt, pushing the fabric up in excruciating increments. His other hand traced down his spine, nails dragging lightly, making Taehyung shiver beneath him.

The room was thick with heat, suffocating with the weight of lust. The air itself felt electric, pulsing between them, pressing in like an unseen force.

Jeon’s fingers skimmed the edge of lace, dipping just beneath, teasing, taunting .

“Tell me,” he whispered, lips ghosting over Taehyung’s ear, “did you wear this for me?”

Taehyung could barely think, let alone answer. His mind was a hazy mess of sensation—the punishing grip on his hips, the relentless press of Jeon’s cock against him, the way his body ached for more.

“Yes,” he finally gasped. “I wanted you to lose control.”

Jeon groaned, his grip tightening brutally .

“Then you’ve gotten exactly what you wanted.”

And then, with a single, impatient tug, he—

Jeon’s breath was scorching against Taehyung’s nape, heavy and uneven, thick with the kind of hunger that stripped away reason. The once-orderly desk was a disaster—papers crushed beneath his splayed palms, books toppled and forgotten, and Taehyung, fucking ruined before he’d even been touched properly. His skirt was bunched up around his waist, baring soft, trembling thighs, his ass presented like an offering, leaving him completely at Jeon’s mercy.

And fuck, was Jeon merciless .

His hands gripped, possessed , kneading the flesh beneath his palms with a roughness that left no room for innocence. He spread Taehyung apart, baring him fully, devouring the sight with a low, ragged groan. His cock throbbed—aching, desperate, so fucking hard it was painful.

“You little tease,” Jeon’s voice was a growl, thick with lust, his breath hot against Taehyung’s ear. “All those looks. Those tight little skirts. You wanted me like this.”

Taehyung whined, his fingers curling against the wood, his body shivering beneath Jeon’s touch. “Yes, sir,” he gasped, voice barely steady. “I wanted you to snap .”

Jeon let out a dark chuckle, low and sinful. “Then you have no fucking idea what you just asked for.”

And then he grabbed him, yanked him back so hard Taehyung gasped, the force sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his core. Jeon’s palm cracked down on his ass—once, twice—sharp, punishing, claiming . Taehyung moaned, his back arching, his body instinctively pressing into Jeon’s grip.

“Look at you,” Jeon groaned, his fingers digging into the reddened flesh, squeezing, pulling him apart. “So fucking desperate. You want to be used , don’t you?”

Taehyung whimpered, nodding frantically, his thighs clenching together in a pathetic attempt to ease the ache between them.

Jeon smirked. “Then beg for it.”

Taehyung’s breath hitched, his face burning with humiliation and want. “Please,” he gasped, his voice wrecked, desperate. “Please, sir—please use me .”

Jeon exhaled sharply, his control obliterated.

And then—he fucking did.

Jeon’s hands were ruthless— squeezing , kneading , rolling Taehyung’s soft, sensitive breasts flesh with a grip that bordered on cruel . His fingers worked over every inch, thumbs flicking over hardened peaks, pinching, twisting, sending sharp jolts of pleasure straight down Taehyung’s spine.

The younger man was writhing , his body completely at Jeon’s mercy. His back arched in desperation, thighs quivering, toes curling against the desk as wave after wave of pure sensation crashed over him.

"Ah—ahh, f-fuck !" Taehyung choked, his head thrown back, lips parted in a perfect ‘O’ as another rough squeeze made him jerk . His thighs snapped shut, his hands clawing helplessly at the smooth wooden surface beneath him. " J-Jeon sir—please! "

Jeon groaned at the way Taehyung twisted , his body undulating with every cruel pinch, every sinful roll of Jeon’s palms. He leaned down, breath scalding against Taehyung’s ear, a smirk playing at his lips.

"You’re so sensitive, aren’t you?" he murmured darkly, voice laced with amusement and hunger . He punctuated his words with a sharp pinch, making Taehyung cry out, back bowing as his nails scraped against Jeon’s arms. "Such a pretty little thing… gonna cum just from my hands playing with your boobs."

" Nghh—ahh—haaah! " Taehyung screamed , his body locking up as white-hot pleasure exploded through him. His thighs convulsed , a desperate shudder wracking through him as his orgasm hit with an intensity that left him breathless .

And then—it happened.

His release gushed , an uncontrollable, shattering climax that painted Jeon’s thighs, soaking through the professor’s slacks. Taehyung let out a sharp, sobbing moan, his body trembling, milking every wave of bliss as his hips jerked helplessly against Jeon’s grip.

Jeon stilled, watching greedily , his pupils blown wide, his cock throbbing painfully at the sight. His hands didn’t relent —still kneading, still teasing even as Taehyung whimpered, overstimulated, his body twitching from the aftermath.

A low, possessive chuckle rumbled from Jeon’s chest as he trailed his lips along Taehyung’s flushed neck, sucking, biting down just enough to make the younger man gasp.

Fingers still pinching, rolling, teasing. Still tormenting .

" Oh no, " Jeon murmured, voice thick with amusement, hunger, obsession . " I’m far from finished with you. "

His grip tightened, spreading Taehyung’s thighs apart even as the younger man twitched, overstimulated and utterly wrecked. His lips dragged along the curve of his neck, biting, licking, marking , his hard cock pressing against the curve of Taehyung’s ass with unmistakable intent.

"You’re mine now," he growled, his fingers still tormenting, still claiming .

*******

If you guys are eager to read the whole 12k words oneshot.. CHECK HERE dears....

What's inside that whole 12k words oneshot... here is the breakdown....

🔞 What’s Inside the Story? (Explicit Content Breakdown)

🌶️ Seductive Build-Up (Public Teasing in Class)

✔️ Taehyung purposely distracting Jungkook during class ✔️ Jungkook calling Taehyung to the board to test his patience ✔️ Subtle touches, whispered commands, and a silent war of dominance ✔️ Jungkook humiliating Taehyung in front of the class by making him "focus"

🔥 Professor’s Office – The Lesson Begins

✔️ Taehyung locking the office door behind him, knowing exactly what he’s about to do ✔️ Jungkook trying to maintain control, but Taehyung’s teasing pushes him over the edge ✔️ Taehyung on his knees, offering himself up like a forbidden treat

👅 Oral Fixation & Throat Fucking

✔️ Jungkook making Taehyung drool over the sight of his cock ✔️ Taehyung being forced to take him deep—choking, gagging, his throat bulging from the size ✔️ Jungkook gripping Taehyung’s hair, forcing him to swallow every drop ✔️ Taehyung moaning and begging even with a mouth full of cock

💦 Desk-Fucking & Overstimulation

✔️ Jungkook bending Taehyung over the desk, spreading him wide ✔️ Rough, merciless thrusts making Taehyung sob and claw at the desk ✔️ Slapping, spanking, bruising—Jungkook leaving marks all over him ✔️ Taehyung being pounded to the point of breaking ✔️ Filthy, degrading dirty talk (calling Taehyung a slut, Jungkook owning him) ✔️ Multiple orgasms—Taehyung screaming as Jungkook keeps pushing him over the edge ✔️ Jungkook not stopping even when Taehyung is overstimulated and crying

🍑 Cumplay & Total Ruin

Tags : assassin Taehyung, Prince Jungkook, blood, death, killing of minor characters, short, amnesia, action.

Status : 2.6k words, completed

main pairing: jungkook/taehyung

Based on an article titled "STRAIGHT GUY WORRIES HE'S BEING HOMOPHOBIC TO GAY ROOMMATE, REALISES HE'S FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM."

Read on for Jealous Jeongguk, Oblivious Taehyung, and Yoongi just being Yoongi.

☛ In which Taehyung thinks Jungkook probably isn’t interested and Jungkook is too shy to say he is.

✘  1k words, taekook first date!AU

Taehyung barely manages to get past the front door and kick his shoes off before Jimin pokes his head around the corner.

“Shit, you scared me,” Taehyung says, walking past him and sighing, flopping down on the living room couch.

“So the date didn’t go well,” Jimin muses, taking the edge of the couch, silent laughter on the edge of his lips.

“How would you know?” Taehyung snaps back a little defensively, pulling at the edges of the couch’s threads. They both had bought the ancient thing off a flea market and though the guy had assured them over and over again that it was only second hand, Taehyung was willing to bet the thing was at least eighth hand, if that was even a thing.

(It’s old, but it’s nap material and that’s all that matters, Jimin had said.)

“Because if it really went well, you would have texted me 20 minutes ago to go over to Hobi hyung’s place because you didn’t want me in the way,” Jimin smirks and ducks away from the flying pillow Taehyung sends his way.

“Where is the off button on you?” Taehyung sighs, propping his head up on his hand and twisting his body to look at a laughing Jimin.

“Limited edition,” Jimin replies, picking up the pillow to put back on the couch and winking at Taehyung which makes Taehyung roll his eyes.

“It’s not that it went badly, you know,” Taehyung clarifies. “It was more like - a little too perfect? It was like a business meeting or something. He barely said anything all throughout dinner so I spent the entire time talking about how the cheese puffs in Daegu are better than they are in Seoul,” Taehyung cringes.

“But he’s the whole package; tall, funny and smart when he wants to be, and the ass on that boy,” Taehyung says dreamily and Jimin pretends to gag.

“Maybe he’s shy,” Jimin shrugs, readjusting himself on the arm of the couch.

“We met at a bar, Jimin,” Taehyung deadpans. “He asked me out.”

“At least you got dinner out of it,” Jimin shrugs.

“That’s what I don’t understand; he took me to that sushi place at the high end place downtown. Reservations, champagne, the works.”

Jimin whistles. “He liked you that much?”

“I thought he did,” Taehyung pouts. “He is so fucking cute,” Taehyung sighs, holding the couch pillow to his chest.

“What was his name again?”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook,” Taehyung manages out just before his phone dings and he glances at his screen.

“That’s him,” Taehyung says, bolting up, eyes wide at his phone.

“What’d he say?” Jimin says, leaning in to look at Taehyung’s screen.

“I had a great time tonight,” Taehyung reads out slowly. “You looked really cute.”

“Gross,” Jimin declares, looking away.

“Wait, he’s typing,” Taehyung says, dismissing Jimin with an impatient wave.

“Too cute. Illegal cute. I-forgot-how-to-talk-after-seeing-you cute,” Taehyung continues and Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Do I really need to hear this-”

“I-want-to-take-you-out-again cute. I-want-to-” Taehyung pauses, clears his throat, and Jimin raises an eyebrow.

“What? What is it?”

“You might need to go over to Hobi hyung’s place tonight.”

+

“You did what?” Namjoon barks over the dishes he’s washing in the sink, making Jungkook flinch.

“Geez, hyung, calm down a little-”

“You’re telling me,” Namjoon interrupts, dishes already abandoned, eyebrows furrowed in a frown, “that you took a cute boy on a date you paid for and literally did not talk to him at all?”

“He’s too cute! And funny! And a fine piece of ass,” Jungkook mumbles, shuffling his feet.

“You got shy? You, Jeon Jungkook, shy around a boy,” Namjoon says, the edge of his lips twisting into a smile. Jungkook doesn’t say anything because he feels like he’s going to die of embarrassment.

“He must be special, huh?” Namjoon says, folding his arms.

“He’s- yeah, kinda,” Jungkook says, blushing and Namjoon reaches into Jungkook’s pocket and pulls out his phone.

“Hey, whoa, what the heck-”

“Text him. It’s not too late to salvage this,” Namjoon says, unlocking Jungkook’s phone with ease (Jungkook should really change his password) and passing it to Jungkook.

“And don’t you dare sound shy,” Namjoon says, cocking an eyebrow.

“But what if he-”

“Now, Jungkook,” Namjoon says and Jungkook sighs.

“Fine, but if it goes badly, I blame you.” Namjoon shrugs and turns back to the dishes.

There’s a silence and the sound of running water for a couple of minutes, and then a yelp from Jungkook.

“I told you so,” Namjoon smirks, turning around and Jungkook sticks his tongue out.

“Aren’t you tired of being right all the time?”

“Never,” Namjoon laughs.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” Jungkook replies and Namjoon rolls his eyes.