By: @serendiplini

Jungkook flopped down into his chair and spun to face his monitor, setting his chin in his hand with an exaggerated little huff. He'd been working on his song cover for hours, but there was something about it that wasn't exactly right, he just wasn't sure what. The more he listened to it the more he absolutely hated it, and while he'd normally ask Namjoon for advice, he was away visiting family and Jungkook wasn't keen on bothering him. They rarely got breaks away from the craziness of idol life, so every moment was precious.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, tapping the play button again. The sound of his own voice flooded into his headphones, and he immediately cringed and resisted the urge to rip them off, slamming his hand down on his keyboard to stop it.

Clearly, he wouldn't be getting anywhere on his own. He'd have to ask someone else.

He could ask Jin, but it was a Saturday night and Jin was probably out with friends. Taehyung was back in Daegu for the weekend, and Yoongi had gone with him. Jimin—Jungkook wasn't sure exactly where Jimin was, but it was possible he wasn't busy.

He plugged his phone in and uploaded the recording before sending it off to Jimin with a quick text asking him to listen and let him know what he thinks (no pressure if you're busy, enjoy your weekend!) and then he went back to try for another listen.

Within minutes his phone vibrated against his desk, but rather than a response he was surprised to find an audio recording in return.

Jungkookie, I think you sound great. I can tell you're probably beating yourself up. I have advice though. Maybe try singing it like this.

Jimin sounded a little breathless and sleepy, and Jungkook was afraid maybe he'd woken him up from a nap. Jimin's sleep schedule had always been wildly unpredictable.

After a brief pause and some fumbling and tapping from the recording, which was probably Jimin looking for the song lyrics, he went straight into singing the second verse. Jungkook had to laugh a little at how well Jimin knew him—it was the exact part he'd been having trouble with.

Try to do it like that, maybe? Just a little higher. The original singer's style differs from yours. I think you should add more of your personal touch and you'll like it better.

The audio cut off, but Jungkook played the recording again. Jimin always used his low Busan satoori when speaking for Jungkook's ears only, and it always soothed him in ways he couldn't explain. His voice was gravely and relaxed, and by the time the second recording ended Jungkook had a wide smile plastered on his face.

He opened a new text to Jimin and hit record, mimicking the singing part in the way he'd instructed. Bubbles burst in his chest when he realized he already liked it better that way, and he decided going to Jimin for help had been a good idea after all. He tapped send and drug his lower lip between his teeth, staring at his phone waiting for a response rather than going back to his own recording. He didn't have to wait long—his phone lit up surprisingly fast. He suspected maybe Jimin had just sent him back a quick text instead of another recording. The thought disappointed him more than it should, but he reminded himself that he was being a little ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't heard Jimin's voice every day of his life for the past seven odd years.

He swiped up to pull open the text, but was confused when he saw a little black box with a play button in the center rather than a recording like before. A video. And not a short video, either—it was rather long, clocking in at nearly forty-five minutes.

Not thinking much of it, Jungkook tapped play.

It was just a recording of Jimin's bed. There was no one in or around it, no movement in the large mirror on the side wall. All he could hear was faint rustling on the other side of the camera which he assumed must be Jimin. Other than that there was nothing out of place except piles of clothes littered on the floor next to the bed, which really wasn't too out of the ordinary considering Hoseok was out and not around to nag Jimin about keeping their room clean.

He was about to close the video and ask Jimin what it was about when he caught a movement in the mirror on the edge of the camera. He leaned forward until his nose was nearly touching the screen and squinted to see what it was—it looked like Jimin, wearing a black hoodie, moving things about his room. But then Jimin moved into view of the lens, and Jungkook's heart dropped into his stomach like a brick. Jimin was nearly naked, wearing nothing but a giant black hoodie that he was positively swimming in, the hem skirting around the tops of his thighs and brushing his knuckles. But when he turned around it revealed a strip of skin at his collarbone where it was falling over his shoulder, his skin golden and flawless.

Jimin stared directly into the lens of the camera, and Jungkook stared back. It almost felt like Jimin was looking at him, his gaze sinful and pupils blown, as he pulled a tube out of the hoodie's pocket and popped it open, smearing a thick, sticky coat of gloss onto his lips.

Jungkook should definitely turn the video off. There was no doubt Jimin had sent it to him on accident, and watching it was a huge invasion of his privacy, but something about it made it impossible for him to look away. Jimin smirked and then spun, sauntering over to his own bed. The hoodie hardly covered his full, round ass, riding up every time he swayed his hips with the confident saunter that was as much Jimin as the hairs on his head.

Just as he was about to look away, something on the sleeve of the hoodie caught his eye: a large white logo running horizontally, obnoxiously boasting the name of Jungkook's favorite brand. He knew that hoodie. It was his. He'd lost it weeks ago (of course Jimin had stolen it, he wasn't sure why that wasn't the first place he looked) and Jungkook was so distracted by his realization that he missed Jimin climbing onto the foot of his bed. He leaned back on his heels, legs spread open, staring directly at the camera.

And, oh.

Jimin was hard. Jungkook wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed the tent in the fabric of the hoodie before, but with it now bunched around his abdomen Jungkook could see the way it curved up against his abdomen, flushed pink in the same color as Jimin's lips, the tip wet with precum.

And, okay.

Jungkook really, really shouldn't be watching this.

He shifted in his chair and set his phone down on his desk, not even bothering to press pause, and then he scrubbed his sweaty palms over his jeans, drinking a few deep breaths into his lungs. It stung a little, and it made him realize he'd been holding his breath.

Jimin had sent him the video on accident. It would be wrong to watch it without his permission, and either way he had no business seeing whatever Jimin was about to do. Not that it was hard to guess, but still. Plus, the video wasn't intended for him. If he were to watch it then he'd be no better than any other random person who got their hands on it.

But Jungkook cut off his own thought with another, one that flooded his throat with something sour. Jimin had to have been making the video for someone, right? He wouldn't just record it for no reason. So who? He didn't think Jimin was seeing anyone, and he hoped if he was then Jungkook would be the first to know.

He gave his head an exaggerated little shake, almost like he could force the thoughts out of his head if he did it hard enough. Whoever Jimin was recording it for was none of his business.

He slid his phone back off his desk, intending to close it, delete it, and pretend nothing ever happened, but just as his finger was hovering over the X he couldn't help but dart his eyes back to Jimin on the screen, and the sight was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

Jimin had one finger inside himself as he laid back on his bed, legs spread wide. His lips, forever sinful, full and slick with gloss, were popped open almost lazily, his tongue resting flat against the corner of his mouth. His shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths peppered with tiny gasps every time he curled his fingers.

Jungkook, as much as he knew he should, couldn't take his eyes off him. He was mesmerizing, breathtaking, eyes hazy with pleasure, staring straight into the lens of the camera like he wanted to devour whoever was on the other side. Which just so happened to be Jungkook, even if that wasn't entirely on purpose.

Jungkook ran his tongue over his dry lips. He glanced at his door, and then back at his phone, guilt rising like bile in his throat. He should not be doing this.

Without giving himself another second to second guess himself, he bolted for the door and locked it before tripping over his own feet to sink back into his chair and reach for his phone, and then he ripped his headphones from the socket in his PC and plugged them into his phone instead, cranking the volume up with his other hand.

Jimin's soft little moans and whispers flooded his ears—Jungkook's heart rate picked up, the blood in his veins feeling like liquid fire as he watched Jimin shift backwards so he could spread his legs a little wider and tease a second finger at his entrance, rubbing it against the knuckle of his first as ran his tongue over his lips and then smacked them together, a sticky string of gloss spreading between them when he popped them open.

When he slipped the second finger inside himself, he threw his head back, pressing them as deep as his position allowed. Jungkook could tell he couldn't reach as deep inside as he wanted by the way he curled his abdomen to push them in a little deeper, a flicker of frustration in his gaze.

Jungkook pressed the heel of his palm down on his cock, throbbing hard against his zipper, almost like he could push it away if he tried hard enough. A breathy little gasp escaped his lips at the contact, and his arm shook with the urge to slide his hand down and wrap his fingers around himself. He guiltily reminded himself of how disgusted Jimin would be with him if he knew he was watching his video, much less getting off to it.

But then Jimin—god, Jimin, pushed the hem of Jungkook's hoodie higher over his stomach to expose more of his body, and it wasn't like Jungkook hadn't ever seen it before, but he was suddenly struck with how absolutely beautiful Jimin was, like he'd been sculpted from marble, the dips of his abdomen underneath his sun-kissed, unmarked skin like it was straight from a painting.

He watched as Jimin removed his fingers (he'd worked up to three during Jungkook's internal struggle) and then leaned off-camera to shuffle around the contents of his bedside drawer, before sliding back into place and dropping something on the bed in front of him, and then he turned around and sank down on his knees and elbows, shooting a little glance back at the camera.

He had that same fiery, angled look of his eyes that Jungkook was familiar with, one he wore often during their performances; but the way it felt directed at him made his skin light on fire, like someone had dumped boiling water over his head. His cock twitched inside his jeans, so aching and hard it was almost painful, and without even thinking he undid his zipper to give himself a little relief.

Jimin smirked at the lens before turning back around and sinking down on his elbow, reaching his other hand out for the thing he'd dropped on the bed and smearing it with lube from the bottle at his hip, and then Jungkook realized what it was—a purple dildo, so thick that Jimin's fingers could hardly even wrap the full way around its girth, and Jungkook was positive his entire life was flashing before his eyes.

Jimin circled the dildo against his rim before pushing just the tip inside and pulling it out. He did that a few times, the video silent other than the slick sounds of lube and Jimin's desperate little whines, slowly increasing in frequency and pitch as he continued to tease himself. He was taking it slow, like he had all the time in the world, and clearly loving it—he twisted his free hand into his sheets, white knuckled, his wrist straining to keep his back arched.

Jungkook brought his hand back to his cock, almost like he wasn't even in control of his own body—his fingertips ghosted over the bulge straining against the thin material of his underwear, and the feeling filled him with so much desire and longing and god—watching Jimin like that, spread open and needy, was killing him. It would be so easy for Jungkook to tug him to the end of the bed and wrap his hands around Jimin's waist, to slide his cock between his cheeks and fuck Jimin the way he clearly wanted to be fucked, hard and thorough.

"Goddamn it," Jungkook groaned, giving in and slipping his hand under his waistband to wrap his hand fully around his cock. He was so hard it pulsed, hot and heavy in his hand, and he smeared his finger through the precum beading at the tip and drug it down his length, shivering at the slickness.

Jimin had worked himself up to about half of the dildo's length, and the way he stretched beautifully around it made Jungkook groan and tighten his grip around himself as he slid his hand down, flicking his wrist when he reached the head.

Jimin's skin was flushed and slick with sweat, his knees pushed hard into the mattress to spread himself as wide as possible, back arched to press his chest against the mattress. Jungkook bit back a whine when he saw a puddle of precum beneath him, drooling onto the sheets from his cock, red and swollen and begging to be touched.

"More," Jimin whined, making Jungkook jump in surprise. It was the first thing Jimin had said during the entire video, and hearing his voice suddenly made the whole thing feel more real. This was Jimin. His groupmate—his friend.

"Deeper," Jimin gasped, shifting forward on the pillows to curl into himself, trying to push his toy further inside but still only getting it about three quarters of the way before he couldn't move it anymore, his arms too short to reach back that far. Jimin whined in frustration, pushing his hips back onto it.

Jungkook pulled his cock full out of his boxers and stroked himself faster, his head filling with thoughts of taking the dildo from Jimin's hands and pushing it deep inside him, all the way— listening to Jimin fall apart under his hands, begging him for more, to fuck him deeper, harder, thorough— and then Jungkook would toss it aside and snap his hips into Jimin instead, turning Jimin into a whimpering mess, begging him to let him come, his cock throbbing in pain from need—

Ding!

Jungkook froze, his erection twitching in protest under his fingers—his phone vibrated hard in his hand and his text tone rang out loudly into the headphones on his ears, making the video pause.

Jimin: WAIT
Jimin: DON'T OPEN THAT VIDEO

Jungkook blinked at the notifications at the top of his screen and then glanced back at the paused video. Jimin, flushed pink, his head thrown back in pleasure as he fucked into himself from behind, and oh god what was Jungkook doing?

He ripped his hand away from his dick like it had burned him and scrambled to shut the video immediately, navigating to Jimin's text with guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders. He watched as Jimin typed a message and deleted it, typed and deleted again—and Jungkook nearly felt like he would cry he was so ashamed. He knew what he'd been doing was wrong, and he knew Jimin would hate him forever and found out, and he didn't know why he was like this.

He took a deep breath and put Jimin out of his misery. He could just lie and everything would be fine, he would never suspect a thing. Jungkook would just carry the guilt until he either died, or it killed him first.

Jungkook: what video
Jimin: that video i sent you, please don't watch it
Jungkook: i didn't get a video?? you mean the recording you sent me about the song?
Jimin: wait really?
Jungkook: yeah, that's the last text i got from you... sorry i didnt reply i was working on this project
Jimin: oh wow, ok. ignore i said anything. thanks kookie, good luck

Jungkook tossed his phone halfway across his room and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He was so fucked.

Dance practice got significantly more difficult for Jungkook after the video incident.

Not because the dances were harder or anything like that. Well, they were—as a group they always tried to outdo themselves, to push themselves to new limits. It was important for them to always move forward as a group, as a unit, to give themselves and their fans their very best.

But that wasn't the point.

The point was a very sweaty and flushed Park Jimin, his cheeks dusted pink as he slipped his hands over his waist and rolled his hips slowly, languidly, staring at himself in the mirror as he raked his hair off his forehead in that way he always did, his eyes running hungrily over his own frame.

Jungkook had been trying his best to concentrate the entire day, and everyone had noticed how off he was. Namjoon had asked him more than once if he wasn't feeling well and told him he should go home, but truthfully he was feeling fine, and he wasn't about to tell Namjoon that the reason he couldn't concentrate was because the only thing he could think about was pressing Jimin against that mirror and fucking him until he was a screaming mess under his hands.

It was fine. He would get over it.

"Jungkookie," Jimin said lowly at Jungkook's ear, snapping him out of his daydream. Jimin pressed his hand to Jungkook's lower back, raking his fingernails over the thin fabric of his t-shirt in a gesture that Jungkook usually found comforting but instead just made him want to jump out of his own skin. "Do you need help?"

"I- I'm fine," Jungkook said, his words a little broken, and he took a long stride forward to remove himself from Jimin's hand. It felt hot where he'd been touching him. "Don't worry about me."

Jimin cocked his head to the side and worried his eyebrows together, scanning Jungkook's face like he could read his thoughts.

He prayed that he couldn't.

"If you say so. You can always come to me if you need help, you know." And then Jimin spun to return to his own practice at the far corner of the room.

Once Jimin wasn't paying attention to him anymore, Jungkook sucked a few deep breaths into his lungs. The air was sticky, and he wasn't sure if it was just from the atmosphere of the practice or something about Jimin's presence, but all he knew is that he felt like he was suffocating.

When he looked up at the mirror he saw Hoseok looking at him curiously in the reflection, and for a second Jungkook was afraid he'd been watching the entire exchange. But Hoseok gave him a bright smile and a little okay! sign with his fingers before turning around continue helping Yoongi. It was okay. Everything was fine.

Jungkook spent the next several weeks doing what he did best. He avoided his problems by interacting with Jimin as little as possible.

He knew Jimin and the others surely noticed. It must have been obvious, the way he kept turning down Jimin's invitations until he didn't even bother asking him anymore and went out by himself instead. Or the way he didn't stay late after dance practice anymore to work on the new choreo and practice new ones for fun, something that