taekook au ♡

boyfriends taekook are having their first big fight after a drunk Jungkook demands that Taehyung suck and fuck him at the same time, and becomes furious when Tae says he physically can’t do that.

“It’s like you want me to cry.”
“Baby, I can’t BEND like that.”

HEY

• don’t get it twisted there’s no smut in here
• domestic taekook’s first fight:(

“You’d do it if you loved me.”

“Oh my GOD.”

His patience was at a level nine when they got back to Jungkook’s apartment, but it’s now dropping to a level four.

He looks up to see Jungkook standing in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, pout on full display. He’s swaying slightly, like he can’t decide which leg to put weight on. By the time Taehyung had found him in Namjoon’s kitchen earlier tonight, he was four shots deep.

When Jungkook saw Taehyung, he had flung himself at his boyfriend, draping his arms around his waist and trying to dip him in a dance, nearly crashing them both to the floor.

Seokjin had made a joke about him needing to take care of the maknae for the night, to which Taehyung joked back about leaving Jungkook’s pacifier at home.

He caught Jungkook’s frown, kissed his nose to make up for it, and the rest of the night carried on fine.

Jungkook was a little more touchy than he was used to in such a public setting, but Taehyung didn’t complain, just made sure Jungkook’s hands didn’t creep into his pants.

He saw his boyfriend take two more shots and finish a beer, before he slumped against the wall and Taehyung decided it was a good time to head out.

“Come on,” he had said as they were leaving the party. “It’s past your bedtime.”

“Stop it,” Jungkook groaned, but allowed himself to be led out of the house, then onto the bus, then into his apartment.

And that is where he tried stripping Taehyung down and making the most ridiculous requests for sex that he’d ever heard.

“Please, hyung,” Jungkook had whispered, trapping Taehyung against the wall, grinding their hips together. “It’ll feel so good. In me and—and in—” he hiccuped. “In my mouth.”

Taehyung tilted his head, finding Jungkook more cute than anything else. “In your mouth? I thought you wanted me to do that part too.”

Jungkook blinked, as if he’d forgotten what he was doing. And then he said, “Yeah. Yes, in—uh...”

Taehyung had giggled, brushing hair off Jungkook’s face. “Yeah, no, I don’t think so. Come on, bed time.”

“No!”

He flinched away from Jungkook, startled by his raised voice, and saw a similar expression in him, as if Jungkook had surprised himself.

Then he stumbled backwards and looked at Taehyung and said, “Suck and—“ /hiccup/ ”—and fuck me. Same time. Right now.”

And when Taehyung slowly explained he would not, and could not, do this ‘simple’ act for Jungkook, the younger’s glassy eyes turned cold. Hard. Angry.

Now they’re fighting? Kinda? Taehyung honestly can’t tell. They’ve never had an argument before and he’s an alien to the concept of Jungkook being mad at him. But he definitely thinks this fight has been going on too long.

Any fight about a fuck position is too long of a fight.

“I really don’t ask you for much, Tae.”

Make that a level three for patience. And dropping lower.

He grinds his teeth before answering. “I. Can’t. Do it.”

Jungkook hiccups. “You haven’t even tried.”

Jungkook’s still dressed in his party clothes, ripped jeans and a shiny black shirt. It’s a little tight on him with very few buttons, and Taehyung is having trouble focusing on his face.

But despite how hot his boyfriend is (ten months and counting, thank you very much), Taehyung’s definitely not in the mood. He’s sober but he’s /tired/, and he’s way more concerned about washing off Jungkook’s makeup than he is about getting himself off.

“I’m not doing it,” Taehyung says, deciding it’s better to put his foot down than list a bunch of reasons. Jungkook’s too drunk to understand anything besides the fact that he’s not getting his way. “Stop asking.”

“Can you—” Jungkook’s face pinches in frustration and his arms fall to his sides. “Can you try?”

“I don’t need to try.”

“Jesus christ, you just can’t even be /bothered/, huh?”

Taehyung counts to five under his breath. He goes to say something when Jungkook, stepping in between Taehyung’s open legs, asks, “Can we just have sex then? No gymnastics?”

“No. You’re really drunk.”

Jungkook tries to shift his weight onto his left foot and nearly falls sideways. He straightens himself. “I’m not drunk.”

“Yes you are.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you’re always right. Silly me.”

Taehyung breathes in through his nose as slow as he can. He cannot remember the last time he lost his patience so quickly. “Jungkook ah. It’s late—no, it’s early. Can we please just call it a night?”

Jungkook’s hands clench into fists, his sleeves dropping over his knuckles. The hair covering his forehead ruffles as his eyebrows screw together. “No.”

For a moment, Taehyung barely recognizes him.

Jungkook is delicate at times, with drifting hands and shiny earrings and glossy lips. But at other times, like this time, he’s like a tidal wave. When that happens, Taehyung stays out of the way.

He’s not used to being on this end of such a force.

“This is ridiculous,” Taehyung exclaims, throwing his hands out to the side and slapping his thighs. “It was funny at first, but now you’re just acting childish.”

Jungkook’s eyes blaze and in an instant Taehyung realizes he’s made a mistake.

“What did you just call me?”

“I—“

“Childish?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, you know what? It’s fine.”

He spins to the right, stumbles again, and smacks away Taehyung’s out reaching hand. “It’s—/fine/. Forget I ever asked.”

“Wait,” Taehyung says, as Jungkook uses the wall to guide himself to his bedroom. “I’m sorry, okay? I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I totally agree. We shouldn’t have sex when we’re mad at each other.”

Taehyung scoffs, starting to pull off his jacket. They’re finally heading to bed and he can picture the pillow in his mind. “I’m not mad at you, I was just confused.”

“Kay, it’s just me then.”

Taehyung, one arm free and the other stuck in his jacket sleeve, freezes. “Huh?”

Jungkook steps into his bedroom and slams the door shut.

A second later, the lock clicks.

Taehyung’s jaw drops open, eyes blown wide. Not only is he shocked that Jungkook would shut him out of his bedroom, but he cannot believe there’s been a lock on that door all this time without him knowing.

He scoffs again, this time in shock, and keeps his jacket halfway on. Approaching the door carefully, he knocks twice.

No response.

Another knock.

Nothing.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, staring at the painted wood. “Um. Can you unlock the door?”

“No.”

Taehyung rubs the side of his face. Jungkook doesn’t sound sarcastic anymore. He kinda sounds like Taehyung. He sounds tired.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why?” Taehyung asks, starting to feel something pricking his chest.

“Probably shouldn’t share a bed with someone so childish. Might throw a tantrum and knock you off the mattress.”

Taehyung’s eyes slip closed and he presses his forehead to the door. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“Kook ah?”

A pause. And then, in a voice that makes Taehyung’s stomach drop out, he says, “We should call it a night, hyung.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that. Jungkook doesn’t seem to want a response anyways. Through the door, he can hear a thumping sound, and the creak of springs, telling Taehyung that his boyfriend is climbing into bed.

He sighs and turns around, staring into the dim living room. He’s spent more time in this apartment than his own lately, and the thought of taking the bus back home makes him cringe.

Besides, if Jungkook ends up getting sick from the alcohol, he wants to be here to help.

He makes a home for himself on the couch, pulling his jacket back on for some warmth and a blanket around his shoulders. The shades are up on Jungkook’s windows, city light keeping the room mellow.

Lying down, he quickly comes to the conclusion that he won’t be falling asleep anytime soon, despite how exhausted he is. He tries for another half an hour, then pulls out his phone to scroll. He tosses it away, picks it back up, then decides to try the tv.

He picks a movie and turns the sound off, blankly reading the subtitles without bothering to pay attention.

An hour goes by.

Then another.

When the movie ends Taehyung replays his conversation with Jungkook, the beginning and the middle and the end, over and over. The fourth time around he’s ready to put his head through a wall. He feels stupid, feels like he was so short tempered with the younger.

Jungkook was drunk, sure, but maybe he’d been scared to ask Taehyung for something sexual like that. Out of the two of them he’s the least straight forward, typically using his hands to lead Taehyung rather than his words.

And instead of helping him figure it out, whether it’s a stupid kink or a weird fantasy, Taehyung had laughed at him. And no, Taehyung doesn’t think he’s capable of twisting his body to get the job done but that doesn’t mean he should have acted that way.

The movie credits end and Jungkook’s screen saver comes up, painting the room blue. Taehyung checks the time and almost growls when he realizes it’s four am. He’s about to open twitter again when he hears it.

The lock.

And then the doorknob.

And then the creak of hinges as it swings open.

Taehyung holds his breath as footsteps pad into the hall, but they stop just before the living room.

Sitting up, blanket falling from his lap, Taehyung cranes his neck to try and see around the hall. Before he can say anything, Jungkook’s head peeks out.

Taehyung immediately recognizes his own Champion sweatshirt, the hood pulled over Jungkook’s head and helping to hide his face. He’s taken off the jeans too, which Taehyung notices once Jungkook fully steps out from the hall.

“Hey,” Taehyung whispers, as Jungkook inches closer to the couch. “Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“Do you want some water?”

When he nods, Taehyung springs up from the couch and gets him a bottle from the fridge. Jungkook sits on the couch, taking the bottle from him wordlessly. He stays quiet as Taehyung sits next to him, keeping space between them.

The silence hangs for another minute, Jungkook sipping and Taehyung waiting. As soon as he sets the bottle on the table, Taehyung launches into his apology.

“Jungkook ah, I’m—”

“Hyung?”

He blinks, alarmed at the state of Jungkook’s voice, crackling at the edges like a wire.

“What?” He asks, scooting just a little closer. Jungkook’s eyes are trained on the bottle, refusing to look at Taehyung.

“Do you think I’m immature?”

That…that is not…at all what Taehyung was expecting.

“What?” He mumbles, barely processing the question.

Jungkook’s head snaps up. And there’s red around his eyes and his nose and Taehyung has never, ever been more furious with himself.

He has /never/ been the reason Jungkook cries. He has /always/ been the one Jungkook turns to when he’s upset, never the cause of his tears.

Something crumbles inside of Taehyung, forcing him to swallow a whine.

“Do you think I’m immature?” Jungkook asks again.

“No,” Taehyung says, reaching for him. He hates that they’re sitting so close but not touching. It’s never been like this between them, not even when they first met.

Something is always pulling them closer, something neither of them try to fight.

Not even now, when Jungkook is obviously upset with him. He catches Taehyung’s hand with his own, taking a shaky breath.

“I think you do.”

“I don’t,” Taehyung insists. “I promise I don’t.”

Jungkook’s face cracks, his hands squeezing Taehyung’s.

“You…you keep making fun of me.”

“What?” Taehyung yelps, almost knocking backwards. He drops Jungkook’s hands to cup his face, digging into his eyes because this /has/ to be a joke. Has to be.

“What are you talking about?”

“You—” Jungkook sniffs, goes to wipe his eyes but Taehyung beats him to it. He sweeps his thumbs across Jungkook’s cheekbones, already shaking his head.

“You and the others make these jokes. You say you have to babysit me all the time.”

Taehyung’s breath hitches.

“And you joked about me having a pacifier.”

Taehyung flinches.

“And a bedtime.”

Taehyung curls into himself.

“And then tonight—” Jungkook sniffs again, and when Taehyung isn’t fast enough, a tear slips down his face. “I was upset and you then called me childish and I just got so mad.”

“Baby,” Taehyung croaks, shoulders dropping in defeat, in shame.

Jungkook huffs out a breath, fingers gripping onto Taehyung’s wrists. “I just don’t like it. It makes me feel stupid sometimes.”

“I’m so sorry,” Taehyung says. “So, so sorry.”

Because he /is/. He never thought those comments bothered Jungkook. It was like a theme in highschool, every time someone was added to their friend group and Jungkook remained the maknae. Even now in their twenties.

He’s the youngest but he’s not a child. And he’s not immature. If anything, he’s the hyung in their relationship, constantly giving Taehyung advice, constantly soothing his worries, constantly standing tall when Taehyung wobbles.

Taehyung has never considered Jungkook a burden or a bother or an annoying younger brother, tagging along with the big kids. That’s never been their relationship and it never will be. He’s never looked down on Jungkook before.

How could he, when all Jungkook does is inspire him, day after day.

Taehyung tells him all of this, apologizing again every few words, and by the end Jungkook’s stopped crying, the painted tension gone from his features. Taehyung is practically in his lap, one of Jungkook’s arms around his waist.

“I never meant to treat you like a child.”

“You don’t,” Jungkook says, shaking his head. “It’s not the way you treat me, I swear. Please don’t change that. It was just the comments.”

Taehyung takes a breath. “Okay. No more jokes. I’ll tell the others to stop too.”

Jungkook drops his head onto Taehyung’s shoulder, sighing. “Okay. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says again, for good measure. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jungkook says, head tilting to kiss at his neck.

They’re quiet for another minute, basked in that stupid blue light from the tv, and then Taehyung snorts.

Jungkook whips back to look at him. “What?”

“If you were upset about my comments,” Taehyung says, grinning down at his boyfriend. “Why the hell were we fighting about sex?”

Jungkook’s cheeks flare, eyes widening. “Uh…no reason.”

Taehyung flicks his chin. “Where’d you even get that idea?”

Jungkook groans, embarrassed, and flops onto the couch, taking Taehyung with him.

“I don’t know,” he says, eyes scrunching shut. “I was so fucking drunk and I was thinking of ways to get you to stop calling me a kid.”

“And you thought sex was the way to do that?”

“I guess,” Jungkook mumbles. “I doubt you would have called me childish if we were naked.”

“You’re right, I would have called you beautiful.”

Jungkook snorts, pushing at Taehyung’s face. “Lame. LAME. Two and half stars on Yelp.”

“That was a good one!” Taehyung protests, moving to straddle Jungkook’s hips.

“No it wasn’t.”

“You’re blushing.”

“You’re on /top/ of me.”

Taehyung smiles down at Jungkook, at this dazzling boy he gets to call his own.

“And why a suck and fuck position? Should I be concerned?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “No. Jimin was showing me his grindr messages at the party. Some guy made him that offer.”

Taehyung nearly gags. He cannot wait to rip into his friend for that one.

“I’m sorry for trying to pressure you into something,” Jungkook says, looking up at Taehyung.

Taehyung smiles softly. He presses a kiss to Jungkook’s lips, sighing when a hand falls to the back of his head, keeping him there.

They kiss for a while, until the very last bit of tension eases out of their shoulders, the fight fizzling from their bodies.

“Carry me to bed,” Taehyung mumbles against Jungkook’s lips.

“Why do I have to carry you?”

“Cause you’re the one that kicked me outta bed in the first place.”

Jungkook giggles, then squeals when Taehyung pinches his cheeks in retaliation. “Come /on/, I’m so fucking tired and I want cuddles.”

He gets another eye roll but then Jungkook is lifting them both off the couch.

When he flops down on the bed, he sees Jungkook’s laptop open near his pillow.

“Were you watching tv too?” Taehyung asks, reaching for the laptop.

Jungkook spooks like a fucking horse.

“Wait! Don’t—I was—”

Taehyung presses a key and the screen lights up and he sees—

Porn.

The ridiculous kind of porn. The latex and black mask kind of porn.

Jungkook snaps the laptop shut and yanks it off the bed, all but throwing it on his desk. He whirls around, hands raised in defense as Taehyung gapes at him.

“What the hell was that?”

“Nothing!” Jungkook yelps, his whole face turning beat red. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t jerking off I was just…just looking for something.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows raise, and when Jungkook winces again, the dots connect themselves.

Taehyung smirks. “Were you—”

“Please don’t.”

“Perhaps looking for—”

“Hyung, stop.”

“An example of someone performing—”

“ENOUGH.”

“The all-inclusive-suck-and—?”

“We’re going to bed. We are going to bed and we are never speaking of this again.”

THE END

thank you for reading pls quote if you liked any parts! https://curiouscat.qa/Julietlovee1