piss , holding , degradation || vminkook

Jungkook hasn’t been a delivery driver for long. Mostly because he hasn’t really been driving for that long.

When he’d tried looking for work with a popular ride-share app after buying his car and discovered that he needed 6+ years of driving experience to actually make money from shuttling other people around, he’d been nothing short of devastated.

The offer that he could work for the same company, but deliver food instead was only minimally relieving and it wouldn’t be far-fetched to say that he hates his job. A lot.

Days like this are the worst, though. The temperature outside is hot and muggy, but blasting the AC runs the risk of making the customer’s food get cold, and whatever bag of dicks he's delivering to lives almost a full hour away from the restaurant they’d ordered from anyway.

To make things worse, Jungkook had chugged through all five of his water bottles trying to abate the unbearable heat and now he has to piss - /desperately/, and he 's still an entire ten minutes away.

He tries distracting himself, turning his music up to blast, a stark contrast to the slow tempo of the playlist he’s listening to.

He opens both of the backseat windows to try and get some air to blow on the nape of his neck where sweat is starting to stick his hair to his skin, but it doesn’t do any good.

Six more minutes.

There’s not a gas station in sight, or anywhere else to stop. It’s nothing but residential zone as far as the eye can see. Hopefully whoever this customer is will let him come in and use the bathroom quickly.

Five more minutes.

He switches to a more fast-paced playlist, loudly sings his way through another two songs and then, finally, he sees the building he’s meant to be delivering to.

It’s a gated community, and he feels his bladder trying to /explode/ as he punches in the code in the delivery instructions at the gate.

The first thing Jungkook notices is that the houses are /huge/. Abnormally so.

He can only cross his fingers that whoever is living here won’t think he looks too low-class to use their bathroom. The sensation is starting to burn a little, and he can’t squirm his way to comfort and drive safely at once.

By the time he’s pulling up to the front drive of the correct house (mansion or even /estate/ seems the more appropriate word) he has to take a deep breath and count to three just to stand up and get out of the car.

He knows he’s not walking normally, thighs squeezed as tightly shut as possible, gait unsteady and desperate. Just the sight of red bricks and a large oak door is sending signals to his brain that it’s time, it’s here, he can finally /go/.

There’s a button to the left of the entryway that nearly resembles a doorbell and Jungkook presses it in rapid succession, foot tapping and hands squeezing too tight at the bag of food he’s carrying. He wants to reach down, to palm at himself to try and keep everything in check.

No one is answering the door.

He’s not going to make it.

He whimpers, feeling the first signs of pissing himself start to ache in his cock and he forces himself to hold just a little longer, sheer determination keeping his underwear dry but sending his stomach into aggressive knots.

Instead of the door being opened – a voice startles Jungkook, speaking from a small speaker that he now notices beside the doorbell. It's a man's voice, panting and deep in tone:

“Ah-Agh … Umm … Who is it?”

Well this is fucking weird.

Jungkook clears his throat and tries to sound like he’s not about to burst into tears if he doesn’t get to a bathroom.

“You ordered um …” Fuck. Where was this food even from? He’d been in the car for so long he could barely even remember the pickup spot. Looking down at the bag and seeing only a repeated ‘THANK YOU’ in blocky red text, he huffs. Today isn’t getting any easier, huh?

“Your food is here,” he simplifies.

The deep voice he’d heard before is replaced by a higher, breathier one. This second man is giggling straight into the intercom and Jungkook feels suddenly mocked by the two of them.

There they are, comfortable inside of their huge house, waiting on their expensive ass food, leaving him out here in the sweltering heat with a bladder that’s about to fucking /burst/.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” the new voice promises. “You can wait with it in the foyer for me.”

The door … clicks. Surprising, considering its appearance would suggest that it’s solid wood. Apparently there was some kind of locking mechanism that they could control from elsewhere.

Well, Jungkook doesn’t really have time to fixate on that. He just has to get in, drop the food, and get /out/ fast enough to see if maybe this gated community has a leasing office or something where he can use the bathroom.

When he steps inside and the door clicks again, locking itself /behind/ him, he wishes he’d paid it a little more attention.

What the fuck is he supposed to do now?

The hallway is long and broad, seamless marble flooring beneath his feet and rich brown wood accents at the baseboard, bringing out the creamy almost lavender off-white walls. There’s art /everywhere/, minimalistic but large.

To his left and right are doorways leading to what appears to be a complex maze of halls, and in front of him is a huge staircase, like in old Hollywood films. It’s almost imposing enough to distract him from the fact that his problem has somehow gotten /worse/.

His stomach is cramping so badly that he wants to let himself buckle over, and everywhere he looks around this room there are just /more fucking hallways/.

There’s no way he’d be able to find a bathroom in time, and that’s excusing the fact that it would be unprofessional of him to just go wandering around these people’s house in the first place.

Optimistically, Jungkook tries calling out to them, thinking maybe they’re closer by than he’s predicted.

“Hello? Uh … Sir?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin when the voice that answers him is directly to his right. Rich bastard moved like a fucking cat.

“Sir, huh? That’s always nice coming from a pretty boy. Do I need to sign anything?”

Jungkook stops. Stares. One second passes and he wonders how the fuck someone had ever created a face this delicate on a man’s body. He's blond, and angelic, with plump lips, sharp eyes, and a pleasant blush over his cheeks.

Two seconds pass and he wonders how the fuck this guy doesn’t understand how delivery works on a ride-share app. /Obviously/ he doesn't have to sign anything who the fuck even asks that when they order food through an /app/? They have a 'leave at door' option for fuck's sake.

Three seconds pass and he realizes he let distraction get the best of him because with a sharp stab of pain, he drops the food and presses both hands frantically to his crotch begging any heavenly spirit that may be watching over him to please not make him do this right /now/.

“No you don’t have to sign anything but um do you have a bathroom I can use?!” He blurts it all out so quickly that his mother would have reprimanded him for talking too fast but he can feel it. It’s the last moment.

He /can’t/ hold it. He knows he can’t.

The man cocks his head to the side and it feels like time is going in slow motion. He seems oddly unbothered by the fact that Jungkook just let his food drop to the ground.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he says, stepping boldly into Jungkook’s personal space and giving a somewhat amused looking smile. “Could you repeat yourself for me, please?”

Jungkook starts trembling, nerves overtaking him as his fight or flight response starts to flare up.

There’s nothing outwardly threatening about the man but he’s in a position where being humiliated in some way or another seems to be unavoidable and there’s a prickle on his neck telling him that this guy /likes/ that.

“N-Need the bathroom please,” he stutters out, curling inward on himself even more, knees pressed together and hands pushed securely right where he /knows/ he’s about to be soiling his pants.

“Did you forget your manners already?”

The man crouches down on his own floor, and it’s only then that Jungkook realizes how /small/ he is. How did he manage to come off as so intimidating and condescending?

Probably all the money.

“What happened to that lovely title you gave me just a minute ago?”

He understands the reason for the crouching, now. It’s that the man wants to /look/ at him.

Eye to eye, face to face – and Jungkook is making /himself/ small. The man is pouting, but it’s inauthentic, reminiscent of the way an older child taunts a younger one for being a crybaby.

“Say it again, would you? If you ask properly, I’ll take you straight to the bathroom, I promise.”

Jungkook has to rake through his brain to even understand what this jerk is asking him for. Title? He hadn’t given him a—oh. That. Well, that was just being polite, wasn’t it?

There’s nothing wrong with going along with it if someone asks you to have decent manners. Even if they /do/ only look two or three years older than you at best.

“Can I please use your bathroom … Sir?”

Unexpectedly, the man /squeals/, loudly delighted. His entire face lights up as if receiving any type of superior treatment is something that he finds funny.

Jungkook isn’t laughing.

Jungkook is, he finds, mortified beyond belief – pissing.

It starts slowly, but unstoppable all the same. A tiny trickle warming the front of his boxers and making them cling to the head of his cock.

He pushes his hands down more firmly, hoping to stop the stream, but it’s too late – the sting of holding so much and for so long is even hotter than the piss steadily leaking from him.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the man seems to notice this right away, despite Jungkook being sure that his hands ought to be covering himself well enough to hide any wet patch. It’s just a little bit, he reasons. Just a /small/ accident, nothing to be ashamed about.

Except that he /is/ ashamed. He’s blushing all the way to his ears and his eyes are suspiciously wet. He can feel his bottom lip starting to quiver and shakes his head.

Get it together, Jungkook. Do /not/ cry in front of this asshole.

“Here I was, being a gracious host and offering to walk you to the bathroom and what do I get for it? You’re pissing right here on my floor. Pathetic, kid. Honestly.”

Everything abruptly gets very … wet.

Jungkook’s willingness not to cry disintegrates as soon as the man is done speaking, and it seems like something in his brain equated not holding his tears with not holding his—

Well. Suffice to say, Jungkook is never going to live this one down.

His stomach jerks, and it’s like a balloon inside of him gets popped. A heavy stream of piss squirts out of his cock, travels down his thighs, and it’s a miracle he manages to throw his body back fast enough for it not to land on the food.

As it is, he ends up falling down on his ass, crying uselessly, and pissing all over himself, his clothes, and the white marble below. He can see the yellow of it puddling beneath him, feel his legs shaking and jerking.

If he tries to stop, his stomach twists uncomfortably and no matter how much he shoves the palms of his hands down on his cock there’s no way to cover what he’s done.

And there’s his customer, two feet away, adjusting to stand up straight and look at Jungkook from his full height.

The fucker might be short, but Jungkook has never felt so tiny in his life, beat down and humiliated and shaking just as much on the inside as he is on the outside. His entire existence is merely molecular compared to the giant gazing down at him.

“P-Please, I’m so – s-so sorry, I—”

“Sorry you what?”

The man comes closer, invading Jungkook’s personal space again.

He steps right into the puddle of piss with his bare feet and doesn’t seem phased by it one way or another. Reaching forward, he reaches his hand towards Jungkook’s face.

There’s a pause, a question in his eyes that Jungkook doesn’t know how to answer. He’s afraid that the man is going to slap him – or worse, /report/ him.

He’s already lost every strand of dignity he’s ever possessed; he can’t afford to lose his job too.

Neither of these things happen. The man cups Jungkook’s jaw, angles his face upwards to force eye contact. Again. He must be fond of that.

“You’re sorry that you dropped my food on the floor?”

Huh?

Jungkook had all but forgotten that he’d even done that.