Miss You {NSFW}

Taehyung’s bedroom – 12:47 AM...

Taehyung lay on his side, fingers tangled in the hem of Jungkook’s oversized hoodie that he had selfishly stolen before Jungkook left for the trip. The room smelled faintly of lavender and something more familiar — like skin and comfort and nights spent tangled up with someone you trust too much.

His phone was pressed to his ear, speaker dimly lit. The call was already four minutes in, but neither of them had said much yet.

“Hyung,” Jungkook’s voice finally broke the silence. “Still awake?”

Taehyung smiled to himself. “I always wait for you.”

A beat passed. Jungkook sighed, soft and affectionate. “I told you to sleep early. Your eyes get puffy.”

Taehyung hummed. “You’re not here. So what’s the point of sleeping?”

Jungkook chuckled lowly on the other end. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Maybe.” Taehyung rolled over, hugging the pillow Jungkook usually used. “Maybe I just miss your voice. Or your hand on my waist. Or the way you whisper stupid things right before we fall asleep.”

He didn’t mean to sound so needy, but Jungkook had been gone for four days already, and Taehyung wasn’t used to the empty space beside him. Every corner of the room felt a little too quiet without Jungkook’s laughter echoing through it.

“Hyung…” Jungkook murmured again, quieter this time. “You’re making it really hard not to book a ticket back.”

Taehyung laughed softly, eyes fluttering closed. “Don’t say things like that. I’ll hold you to it.”

“You sound sleepy.”

“I’m not.” A pause. “Just comfortable.”

Another silence. Comfortable — but also not. The ache of missing someone wasn’t sharp, but it was deep. Taehyung adjusted slightly, the hoodie riding up a little as he stretched. The pillow under his cheek felt too plush, and he pressed himself into it more, sighing.

“Are you in bed?” Jungkook asked.

“Mhm. With your hoodie on, and your pillow with your scent.”

A low breath on the other end.

“You’re doing it on purpose.”

“What?” Taehyung asked innocently.

“Sounding like that. Talking like that. Like you want something.”

Taehyung bit his bottom lip, eyes fluttering open lazily. The words curled warm in his belly.

“I always want something when it’s you,” he whispered. “Even if it’s just your voice.”

There was a low hum of static — and then Jungkook’s voice again, thick with longing.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

Taehyung’s fingers toyed with the edge of the pillow. He slid his thigh over it, casual at first. Testing. Testing his own limits.

“I’m thinking…” he started slowly, “that maybe if I close my eyes and hold this pillow tight enough, I can pretend it’s you.”

“Hyung…”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

A pause. “Not at all.”

Taehyung smiled lazily. The space between his thighs shifted as he adjusted his grip on the pillow, breath hitching quietly — not quite a moan, but something softer, vulnerable.

“I miss your weight,” he whispered. “The way your hand moves when you hold me.”

Jungkook exhaled harshly on the line.

“Are you touching yourself?”

Taehyung’s cheeks flushed, and he pressed his lips to the phone like a secret.

“Not yet.”

“Can I… Can I listen when you do?”

Taehyung tucked the pillow a little lower, slid his hips forward slightly. Still teasing. Still slow.

“You really like torturing yourself, don’t you, kook?”

“You’re the one torturing me,” Jungkook groaned. “God, hyung. Do it.”

“Say please.”

There was a pause — then, breathlessly:

“Please.”

It left Jungkook’s mouth like a groan, hoarse and unfiltered. The kind of “please” that sounded like it had been dragged out of his chest—barely willing, completely desperate.

Taehyung’s smile twitched against the pillow. He pressed the phone tighter to his ear, just in case he missed the sound of Jungkook’s breath. That alone was enough to make him feel warm all over.

“Okay,” he whispered. “But only because you asked nicely.”

The hoodie rode higher on his thighs as he shifted again. The pillow was thick, firm, and smelled like comfort—but it wasn’t Jungkook. Still, Taehyung could pretend. That was all he had tonight: pretending, and a voice in his ear that made his whole body ache.

He straddled the pillow carefully, legs spread around it, his hips settling down with a sigh. The slow drag of the fabric between his thighs made his breath catch, just slightly, and he knew Jungkook heard it.

“Hyung…” Jungkook’s voice came soft, low. “Are you on top of it now?”

“Mhm.”

“Tell me how it feels.”

Taehyung let out a shaky breath, biting back the tiniest sound as he rolled forward—once. Slow. Deliberate.

“It’s not warm enough,” he whispered, shifting again. “Not like you. But… it’s helping.”

Jungkook let out a sharp exhale. “God. You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

Taehyung’s smile returned faintly, but it faded fast as he rocked again. A second glide—his hips rolled deeper this time, friction more intense through the cotton.

“Then imagine,” he whispered, “that I’m doing this on you.”

Jungkook made a low, helpless sound, the kind that made Taehyung feel bold.

“I’d be straddling your waist,” Taehyung murmured, voice fluttering like silk. “Hands on your chest. Or your shoulders. I’d start slow, just like this…”

Another roll, hips grinding downward in a rhythm just for him. His lashes fluttered closed. The weight of the moment made his whole body feel heavy and hot.

“You’re making those little noises,” Jungkook whispered. “Like you do when I kiss your neck.”

Taehyung hummed, not denying it. His body was moving naturally now, almost lazily, each motion dragging delicious pressure against him. The pillow was warm now under him, the fabric catching just right. His breath started to tremble slightly, quiet but audible.

“Wish you were here to see it,” he whispered.

“I’d lose my mind,” Jungkook replied instantly, voice raw. “I’d flip you over and ruin you, Tae.”

Taehyung let out a breathy chuckle that ended in a shiver. “You’re not supposed to say things like that when I’m like this…”

“You started it,” Jungkook growled. “How bad is it? Do you need to touch yourself?”

Taehyung hesitated, letting his forehead fall forward onto his folded arms. His body was warm now, flushed and pulsing. He moved again, more urgently, grinding down into the pillow with a gasp he didn’t mean to let slip.

“I think I’m close just like this,” he said, voice cracking on the end.

Jungkook moaned softly through the receiver. “Tae…”

Taehyung’s hips moved faster now, dragging forward with growing desperation. He could hear Jungkook breathing heavily on the other end, his name whispered like prayer.

“You sound so pretty,” Jungkook whispered. “Keep going, Let me hear you.”

Taehyung whimpered softly, biting his lip to muffle it, but it was no use. The friction was perfect now—his thighs clenching, his back arching with each grind. The pillow beneath him was damp with sweat and warm from the movement, but it didn’t stop him.

His voice came out breathy and needy. “I’m—Jungkook, I’m so—God—”

“I’ve got you,” Jungkook whispered. “Just let go, baby. I’m here.”

Taehyung’s body stuttered, hips jerking slightly. The build-up crashed into him suddenly, warmth blooming in his core, moans slipping out helplessly as he pressed down hard, chasing it—

And then it hit him. A quiet, shuddering high that made his entire body tremble. He collapsed against the bed, legs tangled in the blanket, breath coming fast and uneven.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Neither did Jungkook.

There was only breathing—together, apart, but still tangled up in each other.

“…Tae,” Jungkook finally said, voice hoarse. “I want to come home. Right now.”

Taehyung let out a breathless laugh, cheeks still burning. “That bad, huh?”

“You don’t even know,” Jungkook groaned. “I’m—God, you sounded so good. I didn’t think I’d be this jealous of a pillow.”

Taehyung turned his face to the side, smiling tiredly into the fabric. “It didn’t talk back to me.”

“Neither would I, if you were on top of me doing that.”

“You’d be a mess,” Taehyung teased. “Your ears would go red. You’d beg.”

Jungkook exhaled a laugh. “Shut up. You’re the one who just made a mess of your bed.”

Taehyung flushed. “Well, whose fault is that?”

“Mine. Fully mine. I’ll take responsibility.”

There was a pause. Then Jungkook said it quieter, more serious:

“I miss you.”

Taehyung blinked up at the ceiling, voice softer now.

“I miss you too.”

“Sleep now, okay?”

Taehyung nodded, even though Jungkook couldn’t see him. “I’ll dream of you.”

“You better. I’ll call again tomorrow. And when I’m back…”

Taehyung hummed. “You’ll make good on your promises?”

“I’ll do more than that,” Jungkook said. “I’ll make you forget what a pillow even is.”

Taehyung snorted. “I’ll hold you to that, Mr. Jeon.”

“You better. Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Kookie.”

The line disconnected with a soft click, and Taehyung rolled over slowly, sinking into the bed with a content sigh. His cheeks still tingled, lips parted slightly as he curled into the pillow again.

It wasn’t Jungkook. But it had been enough—for now.

______________________________________________

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