A Jikook Fanfic;
Jungkook is a new university student studying art and multimedia who is also struggling with his social anxiety when he meets a group of older guys in his school who refuse to leave him alone. A boy with peach colored hair, Jimin, i...
Just a small heads up, this chapter is a little short, but there is quite a bit of action: a little bit of some sexy SOPE, and a little bit of violence at the end (not SOPE violence).
This counts as the trigger warning;
I hope you enjoy!
-Kae
***
"What are you doing, Yoongi hyung?" Hobi asks me from under the covers, and his voice is slightly husky from sleep.
"I'm getting ready to leave," I say simply.
I am sitting on the edge of the bed since I just pulled my pants on, and I'm tying the laces of my boots when he leans toward me; he wraps his arms around my bare waist, and he trails kisses across my shoulders. I close my eyes for a moment, basking in his gentle love. One of his hands snakes itself up my chest, and his other is slowly making its way down my abdomen toward the unbuttoned waist-band of my jeans.
He moves his kisses up the back of my neck, and he bites me gently as he tugs on one of my nipples. I let out a small startled gasp before I turn around and pin him to the bed. The bulge in my pants is unmistakable as I straddle Hoseok's middle and grip his wrists in my hand.
"You know they are sensitive," I growl out.
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He bats his eyelashes, and he beams at me with his heart-shaped smile. Instead of speaking, he rolls his body beneath me. His movement causes friction between us, and I watch his face as his eyes roll back while I run my fingertips down his side.
"Yoongi," he breathes my name as I lower my mouth to the jumping pulse in his neck.
I hum in response before trailing down the line of his neck with my tongue. I kiss down his chest, and I flick my tongue against his peaked nipple. He groans, but I take his nipple into my mouth; he stiffens, and his eyes search for mine. I look up at him, and I grin around the nipple between my teeth.
"Don't you dare," he warns.
My grin widens as I apply a little more pressure. He hisses in a breath, but his body responds to me positively. I bite a bit harder, and he squeals slightly before I pop his nipple out of my mouth. I look down to admire the pinkness of it.
I grin at him, and I pat his cheek with my free hand before releasing him; I stand before he can tempt me more, and he is glaring at me from his spot on the bed, rubbing his nipple.
"They're sensitive, huh, Hobi?" I tease him.
He doesn't speak instead he just glares at me. I chuckle, and I pull the sheets off the lower half of his body; his full nakedness is exposed.
"You're not fooling anyone," I tell him as I trail a finger along the length of his hardened sex.
His grumpy expression falters as his lips part and his eyebrows knit together in expectation. I feel a devilish grin spread over my face as I place my finger on the tip of his sex, and I push it down just enough to release it and watch it spring back up. Hoseok is blushing profusely, prettily, and I find I want to stay: I can't though.
"You might want to take care of that," I say to him, and I turn on my heel. I pick my shirt up off the ground, tugging it on as I near the door; I grab my jacket, and I hear him call out from behind me.
"You dick!"
I laugh as I look back at him, "You would know; you love it so much."
He already has his sex in his hand, and he smirks at me. I watch him work himself briefly, again tempted to stay, before letting myself out.
It has been about a week since the incident with Jimin, and I have been going to his apartment everyday to check on the place; although, I am aware I am looking for something, someone. There hasn't been anything unusual, but I have a feeling that I will find the person soon.
I pull my helmet over my head and buckle the chin strap. I start my motorcycle, and I head toward Jimin's apartment. I take the same route, and I speed despite the signs. I won't forget my rage.
It takes me 15 minutes to get to the apartment from Hoseok's house. The hairs on the back of my neck are on end when I park my bike at the curb. Instead of leaving my helmet on the seat like usual, I carry it up the stairs with me.
I'm on Jimin's floor, and I see a man sitting against the light blue door that leads into Jimin's apartment. I walk lightly toward him, and I adjust my grip on my helmet. I clear my throat as I near him, and his head snaps up. The split in his nose and the light bruising around his eyes does not escape my notice. I hold one of my hands out to him, palm forward, and I smile.
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"Can I help you?" I ask.
"No, thanks," he says shortly, and he stands up. Damn, this man is tall.
"Are you looking for Jimin-ssi?" I ask instead.
He pauses, and I know this is him. This is the man who has hurt my dongsaeng multiple times. The vehemence of my wrath is nearly crippling, but I keep the smile on my face; I hope it looks natural. I think of Hobi to help. Hobi's annoying aegyo, his smile, his body as he dances, the feel of his skin on mine.
"You know Jimin?" the man asks me, "Do you know where he is?"
"Yes I do, let me offer you some tea. Jimin talks about you all the time, so I'm sure he wouldn't mind you coming in with me." I take a shot in the dark since I know that Jimin has been hurt before, and that indicates history; all I can use is the implied information I have to weave the lie.
"He does?" the man says, and his face genuinely lights up. I feel disgust twist in my gut.
I take out the key to Jimin's apartment door and unlock it as I say, "Of course!"
I swing the door open, and let him step inside first. I watch how slow he walks, and I know he is starting to feel hesitant. I enter behind him quickly. I shut the door, and I turn the bolt to lock it.
The man in front of me turns around, and he opens his mouth to speak; his bright green eyes widen with surprise in the seconds before my helmet connects with his face. The round-eyed man drops to the floor like a sack of rocks. I feel my nose crinkle in anger.
This man is who hurts my dongsaeng, yet his parents must never have taught him to not trust strangers. What a fool.
I step over him, and I enter the kitchen, grabbing the closest wash cloth. I run water over it before wiping the blood off my helmet. I look back at him, and the split in his nose reopened. Jimin must have broken it. Good, at least he learned something from me: use your resources, and don't give up on the fight if you can help it.
I carry my helmet with me, and I sit down on the couch. I cross my legs, and I wait.
