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Hooked On Your Love, Messed Up

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Dark and light, the bad and the good, everyone sees them differently, because what else is it than the idea created by people to differentiate villains from the heroes? Human race has been trying to shove everyone into boxes for centuries, afraid of what would happen if there was no clear line to cross. But, sometimes, it’s not that easy. Sometimes self proclaimed heroes might do more harm than those dubbed as villains, hiding behind a wall of fake righteousness, unwelcome actions easy to overlook, because along with the boxes come rose-tinted glasses. And you have to take them off yourself.

There are also many things people can’t explain, and the glasses might help blur the edges of those as well. After all, cloning is something straight out of a sci-fi book. Two people with the same faces, bodies, finger prints, who can be born on two sides of the world in the same minute from different mothers? Sounds unthinkable, slightly ridiculous, maybe intriguing if you enjoy making up theories. Only, in this situation there’s no theories needed when it’s an issue that actually has a chance of happening. It’s not as rare as one would expect; one, maybe two proven cases in a decade, perhaps more if the carbon copies meet on their own accords and decide to split ways not to bring attention to themselves, to avoid ending up in the squeaky latex clad hands of government funded scientists.

Sometimes, though, a connection blooms between them and they spend the rest of their lives close to each other, but looking over their shoulders in constant search of cameras and black suspicious vans.

That’s not the case when you live the way Jungkook and Jeongguk do, though.

 

 

 

“Park Jimin.”

“What’d he do?”

Namjoon pushes his glasses further up his nose and passes the file to the two men sitting on the other side of his desk. “We’ve received a letter from an anonymous informant that Park has been involved in the drug smuggling market,” he says, leaning back on his chair. “He was contacted by his bank about a large money deposit done on his account a few days ago, right after police busted the largest drug cartel in Busan. They were in the middle of a partnership meeting. Our informant believes that he might’ve been the other party, or at least working with it since he wasn’t there in person.”

“Any personal vendetta?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “Not any that we know of. The letter was delivered to us by one of our men, he had apparently collided with a man in a hoodie who slipped it into his pocket. Didn’t see his face.”

The black haired man snickers. “Amateur move.”

“Well, it worked,” Namjoon gives him a look, like he’s reprimanding a fussy child, and then sighs. “Given the circumstances and since we’re not sure yet whether the information is legitimate or not, it’s not a clear mission. A lot of people could want him dead.” At the questioning look on their faces, he squeezes the bridge of his nose, sighing again. The file lies unopened in front of them. For people with years of this type of work on their shoulders and gallons of blood on their hands, they both act like brats an awful lot. They’re lucky he loves them and that nobody wields a knife and a sniper rifle as well as they do. “His father works for the president, he spends quite a lot of time in the Blue House. Having him would give opposite parties a huge advantage without the situation being blown out of proportion. He’s valuable, but still just a pawn.”

“So we have free reign?”

“More or less. I know what you two are thinking,” he looks at them pointedly. They’ve finally opened the file, but it’s obvious they’re stuck on Park’s picture. They might present themselves differently, but both of them adore everything pretty. “Do whatever you need to find out the truth, just be careful.” He stands up and stretches his stiff back with a groan, ignoring the pouty we always are. “Anyways, do you want to come home with me? Jin’s making bulgogi. I’ll try to tell you the details there over soju, unless he gets mad for bringing work home again.”

Both Jungkook and Jeongguk jump at the invite, whooping happily at the prospect of homemade food, as if they don’t raid his kitchen every other day. They’re by his side in a second, Jungkook hanging off his arm with his cheek squished into his shoulder, blonde hair tickling his neck, and Jeongguk a bit further away, not a big fan of skinship (unless it’s with his clone), but still close enough to make it easy for Namjoon to ruffle his long black hair. He snorts at the glare he receives.

As someone who’s been with them almost every step of the way since he’s scouted them for Bangtan, intrigued by the media-famous faceless thief that seemed to always be in two places at once based on the identical fingerprints found at the crime scenes, he can’t understand how anyone can see them and think about anything other than overeager puppies.

 

 

After being given the place of action — a charity ball for the new pediatric hospital opened in the centre of Seoul — they decide on how to go about the mission. Sometimes they split, one of them luring their prey in while the other finishes the job, but this works the best when the goal is murder and they know what makes the scum tick. It’s the easiest with sex traffickers and rapists, because the only thing they need to do most times is send out Jungkook in all his sparkly glory, make him bat his long eyelashes, and their prey ends with a pink custom-made knife in its artery an hour later. Jobs like Park Jimin are never clear, especially when there’s not much information available about the target (only the delicious pictures and that he was seen once in a gay bar), but they always figure it out. They’re not the most sought after assassins for no reason.

“Sunghwan is such an ugly name.”

“Shut up, Hwannie,” Jungkook nudges him with his shoulder, a bright smile never slipping off his face. His lips look so gorgeous with the pink watermelon gloss that Jeongguk can’t wait until they’re done and he can finally kiss it off of them. “We’re supposed to mingle, stop complaining.”

“That’s what rich snob twins do, Hyunwoo. Get into character.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and doesn’t reply. He scans the huge reception hall of the five star hotel quickly, gaze slipping over well-dressed guests in mild interest, and then his smile widens, gaining a saccharine sweet note that only his closest friends would recognize as fake.

“I see Lee,” he says and it takes Jeongguk a second to remember who the name belongs to, never the one to study very thoroughly. Right. One of their target’s rich friends, another chaebol, Lee Taemin. Most likely jealous of Jimin, because his family isn’t as well off as Park’s. Probably hangs around him only for money and recognition, but, despite that, Jeongguk doesn't think he could be potentially involved. A spoiled, pretty boy like him who still has his future shining bright in front of him wouldn't make his hands dirty. “I’m gonna go talk to him, prod a little. Call me as soon as you see Park.”

Jeongguk nods, watching as his clone elegantly grabs two tall champagne glasses from the passing by waiter and walks up to the group of young men. He knows Jungkook’s face is open and warm, eyes crinkling with his pretty smile, because he’s always been better than him at acting and not letting his demons get in the way.

He sighs and reluctantly stops ogling his ass, which looks truly delicious in the maroon red suit with gold accents (that was as far as Jungkook could go; a son of a respected CEO wouldn’t be seen with long nails, wearing a floor length dress and 6 inch heels), and swirls the champagne in his glass. He has to keep himself in check for a little while. Yoongi has done an amazing job on carefully tracking and manipulating every document and photo there has appeared of them through the years, going as far as to make their papers look like they’re actual brothers, but that doesn’t mean he can stop being careful and freely make out with Jungkook in public like he wants to. Jeongguk doesn’t really see him as his clone (thank God not as his brother either), that would be narcissistic of him since if he could he’d fuck him all the time, but they’re a special case. They’re so different from each other that everyone at Bangtan headquarters perceives them as two separate people. The only things they share are fingerprints, DNA, voices and faces.

His musings stops someone’s hum and he raises his eyebrows when he recognizes the person who has stood in front of him. Well, that was easy.

“I don’t think we’ve met before. Park Jimin,” the man says with a quirk of his plush lips, hand raised for a handshake, which Jeongguk accepts. He’s gorgeous, which he knew already thanks to his file, but the photos didn’t do the real thing justice. He’s wearing a black suit with a pretty rose boutonniere, dark hair swept off his forehead. His dangly earrings glint like the crystals of the heavy chandeliers that light up the ballroom. They brush against his chiseled jawline every time he moves his head. “And I pride myself on knowing most people at such parties.”

“Kim Sunghwan,” he answers, smiling. The live music changes to something less bouncy, resembling more a classical waltz. A few people stand up to engage in a slow dance with their partners. “Ah, I don’t blame you. Our father, Kim Donghyun, was honestly quite surprised after receiving the invitation since his company is pretty new. Unfortunately, he couldn’t come by himself–” yeah, because the real Kim Donghyun currently sits tied up in Bangtan's basement “–so he sent me and my brother Hyunwoo instead,” he tells their prepared story, tilting his head into the general direction of Jungkook.

Jimin follows his eyes and Jeongguk recognizes the exact moment he notices his clone, because his full lips part for a second, before he closes them and clears his throat.

Jeongguk would feel annoyed if he didn’t know the effect Jungkook has on people first hand. Besides, he really doesn’t mind being the less flashy clone. Jungkook both deserves the attention he gets and revels in it.

“I didn’t know Donghyun-ssi had twins,” Jimin says, looking up at him after not so subtly eyeing Jungkook. He’s almost half a head shorter than him and Jeongguk has a fleeting thought about how he’d look next to Jungkook when he’s wearing one of the many pairs of his heels.

“We’re not very loud about our private lives,” he laughs casually, noticing that Jungkook has left the group and is heading towards them. “I feel like you could relate, Jimin-ssi.”

If Jimin noticed something off about the question, he doesn’t show it.

“It’s hard, but manageable.” He nods, moving his piercing eyes to Jungkook, who stands next to them with a smile. “You must be the twin I’ve heard about,” he jokes and holds out a hand for a handshake.

“Is it that obvious?” Jungkook giggles and takes Jimin’s small but strong hand in his own, bowing slightly. His thumb brushes over the rings adorning his fingers while they introduce themselves to each other. If Jeongguk was any less perceptive, he wouldn’t have noticed the shiver that went through Park’s body at the brief touch.

“A little. I haven’t met a lot of twins in my life.”

“Maybe you just don’t know where to look, Jimin-ssi,” he says with a dazzling smile. Jeongguk sees Jimin lick his lips, eyes subtly darting from him to Jungkook. Oh, so he’s interested in both of us, he thinks amused. He’s probably trying to figure out how depraved it would be to pursue two brothers at once. Cute.

“Maybe,” he hums.

They stand in silence for a moment, sipping on their champagne and watching everyone mingle in the slow music the live band provides at the moment. Jeongguk catches Jungkook’s gaze, a question in his eyes, and his clone barely noticeably shakes his head. He almost breathes out in relief. Leave it to Jungkook to find out whether someone deserves to die or not in fifteen minutes.

He’s glad. It’d be a shame to kill someone as gorgeous and interesting as Jimin.

“Would you two like to join me in my suite?” Jimin blurts out suddenly and winces as soon as he realizes how badly his proposition could be perceived. “God, I’m sorry, that sounded terrible and not at all how I wanted it to go. Please don’t-”

“We’d love to,” Jungkook reassures him before he can fall deeper into the pit of shame, eyes open and kind. “What about this. You could give us the number of your suite and we’d be there in an hour. Sounds good, honey?”

“Yeah.” Jimin’s face lights up in clear relief and the hard, smokey look in his eyes is back in the next second. “Sounds great," he agrees, smiling, and gives them his accommodation information before parting with a see you later.

They watch him go with a small bounce to his steps.

“Come on,” Jungkook says and leaves his empty glass on the table, doing the same with Jeongguk’s. “Let’s talk somewhere else.”

Jeongguk nods and lets him walk ahead not to raise suspicion. He mingles between the guests for some time and follows Jungkook ten minutes later after his phone buzzes in his pocket, straightening his black suit jacket.

He finds his clone at the back behind the bathrooms, the half open door of a dark storage room indicating his location.

“Cameras?” he asks, closing the door behind himself.

“Temporarily damaged, we’ve got about ten minutes more before they figure it out. I texted Yoongi hyung earlier and he was done with them in a few seconds. You’d think a five star hotel would have better security.”

Jeongguk snorts. His hands find their place on Jungkook’s waist, bringing him closer. He tries to lean in for a kiss, but the other stops him with a hand on his mouth.

“We have work to do, love,” he reminds him amused after he’s granted with an offended glare. “And a pretty boy to please. Don’t tell me you don’t want to watch Jimin fuck me, Ggukie.”

“Fuck, don’t say shit like that,” he groans, hiding his face in Jungkook’s neck. He smells sweet, like flowers and vanilla. Probably a new perfume one of the hyungs bought for him. It overpowers the dusty, detergent-like stench of the storage room, and Jeongguk breathes in deeply, muscles loosening. “Fine. Work. Bleugh.”

“You’re like a five year old sometimes, I swear.”

“Well, at least this five year old knows how you like to be fu–”

“Enough, you’re disgusting,” Jungkook wriggles free from his grip with a grimace that’s more for show than anything else. “Focus. I talked to Lee and his puppets and I don’t think it’s Jimin, he doesn’t even own a bank account anymore. They probably called him only because his phone number is still saved as the owner, but he’s apparently given the account to someone from his father.”

Jeongguk frowns. “Why?”

“Lee said Jimin has had a terrible relationship with his father for a while now, he's a controlling asshole apparently. But I’m not sure. I didn’t want to pry too much, lest they noticed something was up.” Jungkook shakes his head. He’s reapplying his lip gloss in a smudged mirror hanging on the wall above a ridiculously small sink. His subtle eye makeup still looks flawless. “That’s what we need to find out. I doubt it’d take a lot of time.”

“After we fuck Jimin, I hope.”

Jungkook looks at him pointedly. “Who do you take me for?”

 

 

“Which panties are you wearing?” Jeongguk asks in a whisper when they’re on their way to Jimin’s suite, in the elevator that is a little too big and lavish to be fully comfortable. There are vases in the corners and when he entered it earlier he wondered briefly what would happen if the elevator suddenly stopped or started falling, if they’d break or bounce.

Something he thinks about also in relation to his prey, too. Some people are so fragile.

“The red ones. Why?”

“Goddamn, Jimin won’t know what hit him,” he groans, strong arm sneaking around Jungkook’s waist and then moving down to squeeze one of his asscheeks.

“Get off, you caveman,” Jungkook sighs exasperatedly, but the slight blush gives him away. He pushes him off so hard he almost collides with the wall, nonetheless, because he loves acting hard to get, spoiled to the bones. “Calm down. What will Jimin think if he finds out you like fucking your brother and buying him lingerie?”

Jeongguk grimaces. No matter how many times they do it, he always forgets about this tiny annoying detail. “Can’t we just… tell him?”

Jungkook shrugs. The elevator doors open with a short melody and he tugs him out into the flashy hallway. At least the golden’s here are more muted than in the ballroom. Less headache-inducing. “We could, but we usually tell only those who would die soon anyways. Do we even know how to go about it?”

The sound of incoming notifications halts their musings and they move closer to the wall to avoid standing in the middle of the hall, which would be not only suspicious, but also incredibly awkward.

“It’s RM,” Jungkook says, scrolling through his phone. Jeongguk checks his own smartphone to confirm that they got the same message and skims through it. His eyebrows raise higher the longer he reads.

They look at each other when they’re finished.

“Well, that solves one thing.” Jeongguk hides his phone back in his pocket. “Now how the fuck do we tell him that he needs to come with us, because he’s being framed for murder?”

“Beats me.”

“Who’s being framed for murder?”

Their heads whip to the door on the opposite side of the hall, where in the threshold stands Jimin with a slightly afraid look shadowing his face. He hasn’t changed out of his suit, but he’s taken off the jacket. He looks smaller without it, shoulders more narrow and hunched.

But that could be because they’re acting suspicious in front of his safe space that he invited them to.

“Fuck,” Jungkook says eloquently and Jeongguk quirks a pierced eyebrow. His clone rarely curses when he’s not talking about sex or during sex. “Well. Can we come in?”

“Uhm.” Jimin’s fingers are tightly clutching at the door frame, eyes flickering from them to the hallway and back to his suite. It looks like he’s battling with himself whether to shut the door on them or not, and Jeongguk honestly doesn’t blame him, but they also can’t stall too much. He sighs.

"Look, Jimin-ssi–" He raises his hands in a hopefully non threatening way, forgetting about his numerous tattoos that Jimin probably didn’t have the time to notice earlier: the butterflies on his palms, letters on his knuckles and more body art peeking out from under his sleeves. Now, Jimin doesn't look like the prejudiced assholes who assume that anyone with tattoos was, is, or will become a gang member, but he's being cornered by two near strangers, one of them tattooed and pierced, the other watching him with a stony look, after overhearing them talk about murder. Anyone would let their imagination take the reigns.

"I want you to go, please," he interrupts him, nervous. Jeongguk would give him props for trying to hold his ground and appear as confident as he was earlier, but Jungkook doesn't let him.

In the next minute they're standing inside the suite with the door shut behind them, Jimin lying unconscious in Jeongguk's arms.

"I hoped we'd be able to convince him without having to do that, Koo," he sighs and gently lies Jimin down on the leather couch. The suite is big, not presidential size but almost, and one of the walls is made fully of windows, which he goes to cover with the heavy grey curtains, glad that they’re high enough that nobody would be able to see what’s happening even if they were looking. Jungkook turns off the lights with a click and the room submerges in darkness. "Now we have to bring a whole body to our car. There's a party happening downstairs and this is a five star hotel. Did you even plan this or was this an impromptu decision?"

"Of course I did." Jungkook gives him a glare, his eyes barely visible in the dark. He's wrapping the small syringe he used to sedate Jimin in a handkerchief from his breast pocket, not moved at all. Jeongguk understands completely why most of their friends (because anyone else wouldn't dare) complain about getting whiplash whenever they're working with Jungkook, even if he doesn't feel the same. Seeing such a pretty person with glittery pink nails and cute space buns discuss the best way to dismember a human being without a twitch on their face can make an impact. "We're going to call Yoongi hyung and ask him to mess with the cameras in this wing. It's midnight, the party ends at 4 am. Everyone is tipsy, drunk at best, and the staff is overworked and underpaid. I doubt they have enough left in them to be alert after having to jump around intoxicated businessmen for hours. We'll be fine."

Jeongguk sighs and pecks Jungkook on the cheek just to see a smile light up his serious face. "We always are."

 

 

 

When Jimin wakes up, at first he doesn’t realize that anything is wrong. His head hurts, he feels a little nauseous and his mouth is dry, but that’s to be expected after a night spent on a party he didn’t even want to go to, forced to do so by his father. He had probably downed one too many champagne glasses, topped it with a few bottles of soju back in his suite, and now has to live with the consequences.

He sighs, stretching on the bed with his eyes still blissfully closed, before he furrows his brows. The mattress seems way smaller than the one in the hotel, when he spreads his arms his hands hang off the edges. A bed can’t possibly shrink overnight, but he doesn’t remember falling asleep anywhere else.

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t remember falling asleep at all.

Jimin sits up and regrets it immediately. Holding his head with a pained groan, he opens his eyes as much as the headache allows him to and his heartbeat speeds up. He doesn’t recognize the room.

He shuffles on the bed until his back is tightly pressed to the headboard and looks around with his chapped bottom lip between his teeth. The room isn’t big, looks unused despite being fully furnished. There’s a desk, a large wardrobe, an armchair and the bed he’s sitting on. The walls are a light beige, which weirdly brings him comfort as his own bedroom is in the same colour palette. It almost makes him laugh hysterically. Human brain will really clutch onto anything to stay sane.

Breathing deeply, he decides to replicate in his head everything that happened last night (at least he thinks it was last night; the grey curtains are pulled shut but they’re still illuminated by the bright light from outside, so he sure hopes he hasn’t been out of it for days). He wants to get up and try the doors and windows, but it won’t help him at all if he doesn’t have a clue who brought him here, if he’s been kidnapped or…

He throws the quilt to the side, uncovering his legs, and momentarily panics when he realizes he’s only in his underwear, before forcing himself to calm down. Nothing hurts besides his head, he’d surely be able to feel if he has been assaulted. That makes his thoughts clear a little.

Eyes zeroed on the only closed door (the other one is left ajar, he can see the bowl of a toilet from where he’s sitting), he tries to remember the ball. He came there alone with his chauffeur, his father as always sending him off for the less important bullet points in his schedule that he can’t be bothered to take care of himself. After leaving his small baggage in his suite he loused around until he had to get ready and go downstairs to socialize. One champagne glass quickly changed into three (he doesn’t think anymore that the headache was caused by them) and then he noticed someone, an incredibly handsome man with long hair and a powerful stance, standing by himself and fiddling with a little hoop at the side of his bottom lip, and decided to approach him and try his luck, because fuck what his father says. He clearly remembers thinking that.

His breath hitches in his throat. Everything comes back to him like a flashback in a badly directed B-movie.

He was drugged.

The revelation feels like a bucket of ice cold water thrown at his head and he jumps out of the bed, having to hold himself up with a hand on the wall. Whatever the twins have injected him with (he gulps when he remembers the look on the blonde one’s face as he was pushing the needle of the syringe into his neck), the effects are wearing off, which means probably a few more hours of hangover-like symptoms. He can deal with those no problem, thankfully. He doesn’t know why they have kidnapped him, whether their goal is money or something way more sinister, and if he doesn’t want to find out he has to move.

He takes a few steps towards the door that most likely leads to the hallway, sighing in relief when he doesn’t immediately feel like he’s going to vomit at the movement. That would just be like kicking an already passed out person, he thinks, raising his hand to the handle.

The door is locked. Of course.

He kind of wants to cry.

In this exact moment, he feels like his life is an even bigger joke than he has thought. A father that cares only about the family image, a mother he hasn’t seen in months, always out in foreign countries with her friends, nobody to tell him he’s doing well, to even talk to at the dinner table. And now he’s stuck in a room after being drugged and kidnapped during a fucking children charity ball, and his phone is dead when he finds it on the bedside cabinet (next to a glass of water that he only looks at warily) and checks it. He briefly wonders if anyone would even notice that he’s gone.

He hits the door with open palms, as hard as he can. It doesn’t do anything and now his hands are red, but it at least helped him let out some of the frustration and he no longer wants to drown in his own despair.

He walks to the windows and pulls open the curtains, squinting his eyes at the bright light. There are no bars and he can open the windows without issue, a small miracle, but the room is on the tenth floor at least, so it doesn’t change his situation much. He could scream for help, hope that somebody would care, but right as he’s about to try, he hears a key turn in the lock.

It’s a tense five seconds during which he has a fleeting thought about jumping off the window, before the door finally opens with a creak.

“Please don’t jump, it’s not worth it,” says the man who introduced himself to Jimin as Sunghwan last night. He looks different than in his memory, somehow more intimidating in stretchy black combat pants and a equally as dark short sleeved shirt than in a proper suit. Maybe it’s the two full tattoo sleeves and the bun tied at the back of his head, showcasing an undercut. Jimin didn’t notice it yesterday; his hair was down, framing his face in soft waves.

“What do you want from me?” he blurts out, fingers gripping the windowsill. Maybe it’s not smart of him to act so blunt in front of his captors, but honestly, he doesn’t have much to lose. “Is it money? Because I’m almost sure you won’t get it anyways. My father won’t care.”

Sunghwan closes the door behind himself, looking at him with something that rings with pity and he almost snorts. A criminal with feelings. That’s interesting.

He hates that he’s still so attracted to him.

“We don’t want anything from you.” Sunghwan shakes his head and sits down on the armchair. He gestures to the bed. “Sit down, please. Or you could go dress up if you don’t want to have this conversation in your underwear. Your suit is in the wardrobe, but we also left there some more casual clothes for you. They might be a little loose, though.”

“I’m fine,” he grunts, moving to the bed. He throws the quilt over his naked legs, glad that he still has his white tank top on, at the very least. He’s not going to take anything from him until he knows what is going on. “Kim Donghyun isn’t your father, is it?” Straight to the point.

“You’ve figured it out fast.” Sunghwan nods, impressed. “No, he’s not our father and the names we told you yesterday aren’t our real ones. I’m Jeongguk, my... brother, is Jungkook, but most people use nicknames for him since our names sound too similar.”

Jimin blinks. Something doesn’t make sense and it’s not only the way his captor is opening up to a stranger. Unless he’s really not going to leave this place alive, then they don’t have to keep lying, he supposes.

“Is he really your brother?” he asks and rushes to explain when Jeongguk looks at him with his eyebrows raised. He understands that it sounds ridiculous. “Well, uh, you hesitated.”

“Am I really that easy to read?” he laughs. His body language suddenly looks way more relaxed. Jimin honestly doesn’t know what is going on. “You’re right. We’re not related in any way.”

“But how…”

“Have you ever heard of clones?”

“Yeah, but they’re supposed to be only a theory.”

“Well, every theory had to come from something. Me and Jungkook met when we were 14. He was born and lived in the U.S. with his own parents until that point.”

“How is that even possible?” Jimin asks incredulously, eyes wide. He’d have never expected that he’ll be finding out that something everyone thought was a myth is actually real on the morning after his own kidnapping. “And why are you telling me this?”

“Life is weird, Jimin-ssi, we don’t know either. And I’m telling you this, because I don’t want you to be afraid of us,” he explains and raises his index finger in a silencing gesture when Jimin opens his mouth. He has a small crown tattooed above the base knuckle. “You will have to spend a bit more time here, it’d be difficult if you didn’t know anything about us.”

“Just get to the point.”

Jeongguk sighs and leans forward until his elbows are resting on his thighs and looks at him so intensely Jimin’s breath hitches in his throat. “Me and Koo belong to an organisation called Bangtan, which you’ve probably never heard of, ‘cos our precious government didn’t want you to. We do what the police can’t be bothered to do, we help those who have been wrongly harmed by the justice system or take care of those who haven’t been harmed by it enough. You could say we clean up the trash left behind, I suppose.”

“It’s not for you to decide,” Jimin says, but his voice wavers, because he’s not so sure himself. It’s a topic that has always been at the back of his mind, but never reached the surface.

“Is it not?” Jeongguk tilts his head. It’d be cute if not for his dark look. “Tell me, do you think a forty year old businessman who raped a twelve year old girl, ruined her whole life, deserves only a two year sentence — if even that — after which he’ll be released with a pat on the back and a ‘don’t do it again’ like he’s a fuckin’ toddler who stole a candy?”

“No, but–”

“There’s no ‘buts’. The government is fucked up. People who are rich enough to buy themselves a way out will do it and rarely even care.” He sighs deeply. “Jimin-ssi, the world isn’t just black and white. It’s unfair, it’s disgusting, there’s no ‘bad’ and ‘good’, just selfish human nature. It’s not a Marvel movie. I wish it could be that simple.”

Jimin looks down at his lap. He spent years confined in the tight bubble blown for him by his father, struggling to develop a personality of his own. He’s been spoon-fed everything by nannies and teachers paid to only do their job, to teach him only what he needed to know, which had been decided by his father, too. Who’s to say that all he’s learned has been inherently right?

He swallows heavily. His reality is suddenly shifting and he’s not sure how to feel about it.

“That doesn’t tell me why I am here, though.”

“We’ll get to it.” Jeongguk waves his hand. “After you freshen up and eat something. What Kookie gave you last night was just a mild sedative (sorry about that, by the way), so all the negative effects should disappear after you’ve had some food.” He gets up and stretches. “The kitchen is down the hall, we’ll be there. Come when you’re ready. And please don’t jump out of the window.”

Jimin nods, the corner of his lips involuntarily twitching at the last sentence. He watches him go and close the door silently.

He sighs, sliding off the bed and heading towards the wardrobe. He feels safer, for now, and despite the slight nausea still present, he could really use some food. Hopefully there won’t be any more drugging happening, he thinks as he takes out a pair of sweatpants and a soft yellow shirt, Jungkook’s face appearing in his head, this time without the syringe. Right. If he’s as gorgeous as he remembers as well, he’s going to be in big trouble.

 

 

He’s ready after an hour, having scrubbed his teeth like his life depended on it with a new toothbrush they left for him still in its box, and taken a long, hot shower. He feels way more alert and confident now, even knowing that he’s in one apartment with two people that scientifically shouldn’t exist, who are on top of that… hitmen? Jeongguk didn’t go that much into details, so Jimin honestly has no idea and decides not to think about it for now. Push it to the back of his head until he’s stable enough to tackle the issue.

He leaves the bathroom and forces himself not to feel bad about the steam that follows him. Oh, well. If he’s used up all their savings for hot water they can take it as payback for drugging and kidnapping him.

The rest of the apartment appears to be roughly in the same aesthetic as the room he slept in. It’s cozy and not very spacious, but definitely enough for two grown men, who also apparently like art, if the paintings and photographs covering the walls are anything to go by. He’s surprised to see pink accents here and there as well, not really understanding how it fits with everything else.

The question is answered as soon as he enters the open plan kitchen and glances towards the living room, where the clones sit together on the black couch with pink throw pillows. A big TV plays a movie he doesn't know in front of them, sound nearly muted.

“Oh, you’re up,” Jungkook says happily. He moves his sock-clad feet (God, are those fucking thigh highs?) from Jeongguk’s lap to the floor and stands up. Jimin has to blink a couple of times to make sure that it’s not a drug induced dream and that the man who injected him yesterday really is wearing only a massive black hoodie with an obnoxious Thrasher logo, pink thigh highs with little cat ears at the rims and nothing else. “Come on, let me make you breakfast, as an apology for yesterday, because otherwise Ggukie won’t stop pestering me about it.” He walks up to him, steps silent, and takes his hand to drag him to the kitchen table. Jimin follows, stunned and possibly a little hard and sits down obediently. “I hope that you understand that we didn’t have a choice, hyung — you’re two years older than us, can we call you hyung? great — I was afraid you’d freak out on us and we couldn’t have that,” he pouts, hands on his hips, which bunches up the material of his hoodie, showing off his incredibly tiny waist, an inch of hairless skin visible above the hem of his thigh highs. Jimin kind of feels like he’s going to pass out.

“Uh, yeah, of course,” he stammers and Jungkook grants him with a smile and turns around to take out a pan.

“Egg rolls sound okay?” he asks a minute later, already with a box of eggs in elegant fingers. Jimin realizes his nails look nothing like they did yesterday, when they were neatly trimmed and natural. Now they’re long, pointed and sharp, most of them pink with a few gems and an odd black nail on his ring fingers. They make his hands look even more delicate.

He nods, jumping when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Jeongguk is looking down at him with amused, knowing eyes.

He shakes his hand off of him like it burned him. It should be illegal for such an already gorgeous person to be basically duplicated into two ends of the spectrum, both insanely hot. He ruffles his damp after a shower hair nervously. He knows he’s good looking, but at this moment he feels ridiculous next to them.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat after a few minutes, when Jungkook is humming to himself while preparing him food with Jeongguk’s arm around his waist. He so desperately wants to ask, since even if they’re not related it must still be weird (his dick definitely doesn’t think so), but there are more pressing matters at hand than their sex life. “Jeongguk told me we’ll talk about why I’m here later?”

“Are you asking or telling us, pretty?” Jungkook looks at him over his shoulder, the one which the other clone isn’t resting his head on.

“Telling. I think.”

“Hm. Let me ask you something first,” Jungkook begins and snorts unattractively when Jeongguk licks one of his many ear piercings. He pushes him away, ignoring his pout. “Do you think you have any enemies? People who would want your death?”

Jimin furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t think so? I mean, my father is high in position, but I’ve never been let into the secrets, and people know it. I’m basically just his errand boy, even though I’m supposed to get the position after him,” he says grimly.

“So it’s jealousy, most likely.” Jungkook turns to him with a plate with a few already cut up egg rolls with vegetables and mushrooms and a side dish of kimchi. He passes him the chopsticks, jumps to sit on the black marble worktop and explains after noticing his confused expression: “Yesterday we were sent to find out if you’re involved in drug smuggling business — which we now know you’re not, since you’re not the owner of the account that received all those money, you probably remember the call — but an anonymous informant was convinced of your guilt. I’m beginning to think that it’s not the person you have given your bank account to that wants to get rid of you, but the informant, because afterwards we got another message that you’re being framed for murder.”

Jimin chokes on an egg roll. He would have never thought that his father taking away his access to his credit card would result in something like this.

“Excuse me?” he wheezes, gratefully accepting the glass of water Jeongguk hands him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of it. That’s why we had to take you home, to keep an eye on you.”

“No, I don’t mean that,” he looks at Jungkook after finally getting a hold of his lungs. He can’t believe he’s spending his Saturday talking with a man in kitty socks about scenarios straight out of a crime movie, but instead of a movie it’s now his life, apparently, while said man’s clone sits next to him at a kitchen table. Insanity.Framed for murder?! Whose murder?”

“At about 11:46 pm last night police secured the body of a waitress from a cafe Magic Shop. Time of death around 5 pm, when you were on your way to the hotel and didn’t have a clear location. Nobody but your chauffeur would be near you, so whoever framed you had to know you well enough to have an idea of when you’d be an easy target. The cops also found your fingerprints at the crime scene, so we’re talking about someone who knows you and who has access to the things you’ve touched.”

“Holy shit.” Jimin puts down his chopsticks and rubs his face with both of his palms. “How the fuck did they know my favourite cafe?” he mumbles, staring into the last piece of his egg roll as if it could answer him. Maybe he's focusing on the wrong thing, a person was murdered in his name and he cares more about his privacy instead, but he's slightly panicking. And the past hours have been bizarre anyways.

“Don’t worry about it, hyung,” Jeongguk says, reaching over the table to wrap one hand around one of his wrists soothingly. Weirdly enough, the gesture helps and Jimin takes a stuttering breath. He’s already here, in a room with two people who apparently along with their organisation (maybe he should be more suspicious, because for all he knows the whole story could be fake, but he really doesn’t think so) feel confident enough in their abilities to try to fight against the government. If anyone would help him, it’s them. “Me and Koo will take care of it. We can be many things, but we’re not liars.”

“You lied to me about your names and basically your whole lives literally yesterday. How can I be sure you two aren’t just twins with issues?”

Jeongguk looks at him with his mouth hung open and Jimin swallows, ready to apologize, but Jungkook only laughs.

“We lied yesterday, because we were on the job, sweetheart,” he says and jumps off the worktop just to sit sideways on Jeongguk’s lap. He looks at Jimin with something akin to hunger and amusement, long nails scratching at his clone’s nape. His hoodie has ridden up, exposing more skin, but he doesn’t seem to care. “I suppose Ggukie didn’t tell you what we do for a living, did he?”

Jimin shakes his head, throat too choked up to speak. He thinks he has an idea and that it’d be probably better for him not to know, but he’s always been a curious one, so he leans forward, nibbling on his bottom lip.

And he’s still so, so attracted to them. He at least has to know this one thing before going further.

“Me and Ggukie have a bit of, hm, let’s say, reputation at Bangtan. We’re younger than basically all of them, but the boss adores us and they hate it, which is amusing when we do most of the hard work for them. And I think you know what the hard work implies. It's quite bloody,” he giggles, throwing one leg over the other. The hoodie rides up even more and Jimin’s eyes widen when he notices a few jagged scars on his thighs, one of which looks like a scar from a bullet.

Jungkook follows his gaze and pouts, tugging the hem of his hoodie over his legs.

“That’s dirty, at least ask me to dinner first.”

“No! That’s not– I wasn’t–”

“He was looking at the scars, Koo,” Jeongguk supplies unhelpfully and Jimin groans into his hands. He’d honestly prefer Jungkook to think that he was just ogling him.

“Ah, these?” Jungkook pulls up his hoodie again, exposing not only the scars but also the hem of his pastel pink panties.

Panties.

Jimin wonders when he’s going to finally overheat.

“They just come with this type of work.” He shrugs and Jeongguk pinches his side, at which he squeals.

“No, that’s just you and your desire to be in the centre of attention. My heart always feels like it’s going to fall out of my ass every time you decide to march straight into the range of fire.”

“Aw, maybe you’re just getting soft.”

“I’ll show you soft, you–”

“Are you two together?”

Two pairs of identical eyes look at Jimin. He wipes his sweaty palms on his borrowed sweatpants. He’s nervous, but he won’t take his words back. He needs to know.

“Kind of?” Jeongguk tilts his head. It seems like a habit. “We love each other, we love to fuck each other, but we’re not exactly exclusive, if you get what I mean,” he says while looking right at him with a smirk, eyebrows wiggling.

“Uh–”

Jungkook sighs and whacks him in the back of his head. “Excuse him, he’s a brat who doesn’t know how to speak without being annoying,” he says and leans towards him with his elbows on the table. “What he wanted to convey, was: is this your way of asking if you could fuck us? Because if so, I think you already know the answer, precious.”

Jimin licks his lips. “Could you spell it out for me? Y’know, consent is sexy.”

Jungkook groans, clutching at his chest dramatically. “You are just so sweet, isn’t he, Ggukie?” He strokes Jeongguk’s neck. Jeongguk nods, eyes not moving from Jimin. “Yes, baby, we’d love for you to fuck us.”

Jimin tries very hard not to sigh out loud in relief, but a satisfied, excited smile still slips on his face.

Jungkook giggles and gets off of Jeongguk’s lap, rounding the table in a few steps to reach Jimin and gently takes his hands. Jimin is reminded of yesterday, when they shook hands for the first time and he felt a shudder crawl along his back. Now the feeling is ten times as intense, the knowledge of what they’re about to do a constant presence in his head.

“C’mon,” the blonde says and tugs him upward. Jimin collides with his strong chest and swallows. He’s less buff than Jeongguk, softer and slimmer everywhere, but both of them have truly impressive sets of pecs. He almost just got a face full of boobs. Not that he’s complaining. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

“Shit, yeah.”

And then, Jungkook kisses him.

He lets out a very un-manly, surprised squeak, before catching on. He returns the kiss with as much enthusiasm as he can, hands moving to grab Jungkook’s waist through his hoodie. He growls at the back of his throat when he can only feel the rough shape of it, but can’t touch the skin. Jungkook nips at his bottom lip, plumping it up even more, and his hands wander down to squeeze both of his asscheeks, long nails lightly digging into them.

“You want to fuck me or what?” Jimin asks with a smile when the kiss is broken and Jungkook still hasn’t left his ass alone, fondling it like one would a stress ball.

“Nah,” Jeongguk answers instead. He’s watching them with his chin resting on one of his palms, gaze heated and intense. He has an obvious hard-on that he doesn’t try to hide. “Koo here is a strictly bottom slut.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes with a smile. He leaves one last peck on Jimin’s slightly red lips and steps back. “You might be right, Ggukie, but just wait until you get your hands on his ass as well. You would leave me for him in a heartbeat, if you dared.”

Jeongguk looks like he might want to argue, but then he stands up and tugs Jimin towards himself, hands on his asscheeks (he tries very hard not to moan out loud at that), and his face darkens.

“Told you.”

“Can we-” Jimin begins, swearing under his breath right after, because Jeongguk won’t stop squeezing, clearly knowing what he’s doing. There’s an ache behind it, but he’s always liked a bit of pain despite being dominant in bed, so it only makes him want more. “Can we finally move? I get that you probably don’t want to jump right into it for my case, but honestly that’d be really appreciated right now.”

“Eager, aren’t we?” Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling at the edges when Jimin doesn’t even try to disagree. “Okay, then. Come with us, love.”

He’s suddenly tugged out of the kitchen and through the corridor, Jeongguk’s arm around his waist and Jungkook’s hand in his. His heart is stuttering in his chest as they go past the room he’d woken up in, deeper into the apartment. He feels a little like he’s prey, being taken into a lion’s den, because even if they’re both ridiculously pretty and a part of him would really like to get to know them beyond just getting familiar with their touch, they’ve still had blood on their hands.

A lion and a lioness, majestic and dangerous.

Somehow, it doesn’t scare him as much as it probably should, especially since he can still, albeit faintly, feel the effects of the sedative.

He doesn’t have anything to lose anyways.

Soon, they stop in front of a door that Jungkook opens with a small smile thrown over his shoulder, and they all walk inside.

The door closes behind them with a soft click.

“What do you want, hyung?” Jungkook hums, arms draping over his shoulders. Jimin shudders when he brushes a hand through his still damp from his earlier shower hair, nails scratching at his scalp.

“I want to fuck you,” he blurts out, unashamed. Now that everything is becoming real, his usual confidence is coming back. “With Jeongguk.”

He hears a groan from behind and Jeongguk’s hands tighten on his waist, but at the moment he focuses only on Jungkook’s wide smile.

“How scandalous,” he tuts, but doesn’t look like the proposition has deterred him at all. Moreover, when he leans closer into Jimin’s body, he can feel how hard the clone is against his stomach.

“Mhm, but can you take it?”

It’s Jeongguk who responds, his voice thick with arousal, “Oh, he can. You never heard him when he begs me to stuff him full even when he already has my dick in his stomach. Size-queen slut. One cock is rarely enough.”

“Good thing I’m here now, then,” Jimin says before Jungkook can retort something of his own at his clone’s words, and then lets his hands wander down to his ass, much like Jungkook did to him in the kitchen.

“Fine, I’ll let you two have this one,” Jungkook sighs, fond. He leaves a peck on Jimin’s lips, moving away when he leans in to deepen the kiss. His eyes sparkle as he escapes from his arms and sits on the bed, legs falling open. The hoodie rides up, barely covering his panties. He raises a beautifully shaped brow when none of them move. “You were so impatient before, what happened? I’m waiting, babies.”

Jeongguk is the first to go to him, familiar with his antics. Jimin bites his lip, using that minute to take in everything.

The clones are gorgeous, which he knew already, but now, wrapped in each other’s arms and being so unabashedly themselves, they seem to shine. Jeongguk didn’t waste time, pushing Jungkook onto his back as soon as he came near, and the room quickly filled with the sounds of two identical pairs of lips (save for Jeongguk’s piercing) sliding against each other.

Jimin averts his eyes for a second when Jungkook wraps his legs around his clone’s waist and Jimin catches a glance at the bottom of his feet, where the long pink socks show prints of goddamn cat toe beans that make his feet look way cuter than they should be.

He needs to calm down, lest he discovers something about himself that he wasn’t quite ready for.

He looks around the room briefly and if he wasn’t so aroused and distracted, he’d probably laugh at the decor that looks exactly as what one would expect after seeing Jungkook and Jeongguk together. It’s a perfect mix of gothic grunge and soft pastel colors, with some Marvel posters and figurines here and there, which shouldn’t work with the rest of the room, but weirdly does.

He finally moves closer to the king-sized bed with white-pink sheets and a black balustrade standing against a black wall when Jeongguk looks at him over his shoulder, a concerned glint in his dark eyes.

He shakes his head in response. They don’t need to know about his internal struggles.

“Hi.” Jungkook smiles at him when he sits next to them. His lips are red and wet with spit and he looks like sin personified, blonde hair spread around his head like a halo. A vicious contrast. “Nice of you to join us, honey.”

“Hey yourself,” he laughs, the tight band around his stomach finally snapping. He didn’t realize earlier just how nervous he’d been. This might not be his first threesome (his college years were years of experimenting, and business majors were full of closeted men, so he can't be blamed), but it’s certainly the weirdest and most intense. And with the most beautiful and dangerous men he’s ever seen.

“That’s nice and all, but both of you are wearing way too many clothes,” Jeongguk grumbles with a pretty blush on his cheeks. His hands are heavy on Jungkook’s thighs, squeezing the scarred skin, but they don’t slip above his panties. It’s as if he’s waiting for permission, Jimin realizes with a gulp.

He’s beginning to truly see who holds the reins here. He had a taste earlier, but he let stereotypes cloud his judgement. No wonder their organisation values them so much.

“Aw,” Jungkook coos, raising a hand to cup Jeongguk’s cheek. The other clone nuzzles into it, kissing his palm. “You’re already so desperate. It’s cute, but we should give our guest the honors, shouldn’t we?”

“Fine,” Jeongguk pouts, but his hands leave Jungkook’s thighs and he shuffles back, giving Jimin space to lean over his clone.

Jimin kisses him, fingers playing with the edge of his (well, most likely Jeongguk’s, judging by its style) hoodie.

“Can I?” he murmurs against his lips, noses brushing against each other.

“Mhm, go on.” Jungkook bites his bottom lip. “Get me naked for you and Ggukie, baby.”

Jimin huffs, aroused beyond words, and straightens up, Jungkook’s legs bracketing his body. He lets his hands roam over his calves and thighs, but when they brush against the rim of his socks, the soft seam digging into the skin and soft fat, Jeongguk’s lips touch his ear and he shivers.

“Leave the socks on,” he murmurs, hands coming back to rest on his waist. “Koo hates when his feet are cold.”

Fuck, it shouldn’t be this cute.

Jimin nods and leaves the socks alone, grabbing the edge of the hoodie instead. He winks at Jungkook, who straightens up to make it easier and snorts. The hoodie is off the next second.

“Fuck,” Jimin curses when he finally sees all of him, clad in just the socks and pink panties, the head of his cock, equally as pink, peaking over the band and resting on his toned stomach. He’s big, longer than him but definitely slimmer, and even though Jimin doesn’t bottom much, too particular about what he expects from his partner, his hole clenches.

Jungkook must have noticed the look on his face, because he laughs while helping him get out of his shirt.

“Sorry to break it to you, but topping is definitely not something I enjoy,” he says, amused, but his eyes and hands that quickly gravitate towards his muscular stomach and arms tell a different story. “Ggukie, though, is a wonderful switch on top of being my cute service top. I’m sure you could have a lot of fun with him in those regards, since I’m unfortunately not able to satisfy him fully in that way.”

“Oh, really?” Jimin quirks a brow and turns his head towards Jeongguk, who’s already down to his boxer briefs and watching them with a heated gaze and pink cheeks that look adorable next to his dark tattoos that cover most of his ripped body and piercings. Jimin notices two hoops through his puffy nipples and blanks for a second, wanting nothing more than to tug at them, check if they’re as sensitive as they look. “That’s, uh, that’s good to know.”

Jungkook hums, dragging his nails down Jimin’s torso and then tugging at the band of his sweatpants.

“C’mon, let me see all of you,” he orders and when Jimin immediately gets to shoving his pants and underwear down his legs, he looks at Jeongguk with a raised brow. “You too, puppy. Show Minnie what you begged me for earlier.”

Jeongguk curses, but also listens to him in a heartbeat, hooking his thumbs on the band of his black boxer briefs. Jimin bites his lip when his hard cock springs out, and then Jungkook crawls towards his clone and turns him around, spreading his asscheeks with a wide smile, and Jimin chokes on his spit.

Jeongguk huffs, obviously embarrassed, but stays put, the small heart shaped plug with a pink gem twitching in his wet hole, below a lower back tattoo of a phoenix.

Of course he has a tramp stamp. Of course.

“Isn’t he just precious?” Jungkook coos and slaps one of his cheeks, kissing Jeongguk’s shoulder when he jumps with a short whine.

“Yeah.” Jimin gulps and, on a whim, grabs Jeongguk by his wide shoulders to kiss him for the first time.

His kisses are the opposite of Jungkook’s. Where Jungkook is forceful, taking what he wants with calculated calmness and an ever-present feeling like he’s amused by their reactions, Jeongguk kisses, well, like an excited puppy, Jimin realizes with a small laugh. He’s all practiced tongue and little growls, a hand heavy on Jimin’s nape as he struggles not to rut against his stomach, putting Jimin’s pleasure first, even when his short fingers reach curiously for his nipple piercings, massaging and tugging relentlessly.

They’re very sensitive, indeed.

“Good boy,” he whispers, feeling like it’s the right move, and is proven correct when Jeongguk groans, his other hand coming up to squeeze his hip. “I’d fuck you right now, if Jungkook wasn’t waiting.”

“Yeah, but Jungkook is waiting, so as much as I’d like the view some other time, loves, hurry up now,” Jungkook says and when Jimin looks at him his breath hitches in his throat. The clone is propped up on the many pillows against the headboard, legs spread open unashamedly and panties gone. He’s not wearing a plug, but his cleanly waxed, pink hole winks at them, already looking stretched.

“Kookie hates getting his hands dirty when it’s not related to blood,” Jeongguk explains, voice fond, and Jimin thinks he probably should feel disturbed and afraid, but he’s currently long past that. There’s only molten lava in his stomach.

“I just glued on these babies,” Jungkook pouts, wiggling his fingers in the air. The gems on his nails blink when they catch the light. “I don’t want to break them already, and besides, why would I need to do anything when I have you two?”

“Valid.” Jeongguk nods seriously, breaking out into a smile when Jimin laughs. He then leans towards the nightstand and takes out a fairly sized bottle of water based lube for sensitive skin and passes it to Jimin dramatically. “Do the honors, Jimin-ssi.”

He snorts and shakes his head, but listens, if only for the feeling of Jungkook’s hands clutching at his biceps when he puts two of his lubed up fingers inside his warm hole, quickly realizing that starting with one would be a waste of time. He’s so soft and stretches around his fingers so well, definitely well-fucked, and soon enough they’re kissing again, half of Jimin’s hand swallowed up by his hole, head swimming from Jungkook’s satisfied sighs and Jeongguk’s teeth and wet lips roaming over his neck and shoulders.

“Mhm, you can stop now, hyungie.” Jungkook pushes him away gently, but keeps moving his hips in little circles, grinding his prostate into Jimin’s four fingers. “I want to feel you both later, this will be enough.”

“Are you sure?” Jimin asks, a little concerned. He can’t help it. He’s always been attentive in bed and he won’t stop now just because Jungkook seems well used to pain, judging by his body, marked with scars.

More than that, it only makes him want to be even more careful.

“Definitely.” Jungkook smiles reassuringly. “Ggukie fucked me this morning and I like the stretch. Thank you for asking, sweetheart,” he coos, as if finding his concern cute. Jimin doesn’t know them yet, not by a long shot, but he has a feeling that Jungkook has a lot of experience with people fussing over him, he just doesn’t care.

“Okay then.” Jimin slips his fingers out, nearly groaning when Jungkook’s hole doesn’t close back up fully, leaking lube all over the pink sheets. “How are we doing this?”

“Hm, I think I want you under me. Gonna ride you, sweet boy,” he says happily, sitting straighter and stretching briefly with a pleased noise. Jimin can’t stop ogling his body, which, despite the truly gruesome in some places scars (like the jagged bullet wound near his shoulder or the still red, clean scar, most likely from a knife, above his right hip), looks like it could belong in a magazine. His skin is pale and taken care of, muscles sculpted, but lean. He looks pretty and delicate next to Jeongguk’s tattoos and thick muscles, even though he’s anything but. “Ggukie will fuck me from behind, let’s make him do all the work today, use those muscles of his for something important.”

“As if I don’t do all the work every day, you pillow princess.”

“Quiet, puppy.” Jungkook wags his index finger in front of Jeongguk’s cheeky smile. “Or you won’t get to fuck me at all.”

The smile slips off of Jeongguk’s face and he whines, hands grabbing Jungkook’s tiny waist (the only part of their bodies besides the height that looks almost exactly the same in size, somehow), pressing butterflies into his skin. He starts peppering his face with kisses until Jungkook laughs, wriggling out of his hold half-heartedly.

“Fine, fine. Go grab the condoms,” he snorts once he finally escapes and turns to Jimin to push him onto his back, head propped up on the pillows, and begin stroking his dick that’s at this point hard enough to cut rock.

Jimin groans, fighting not to throw his head back, because Jungkook suddenly spits on his cock and leans down to lick the thick head while staring right into his eyes from under his mussed, blonde fringe, and he just cannot miss the show.

It’s cut short, though, because Jeongguk is back with the condoms much quicker than he expected and he sighs, disappointed, at which both of them laugh.

“If you’re still up for it, Ggukie can suck you off later, what do you say?” Jungkook asks while rolling down a condom onto his dick, and Jimin has to avert his eyes, because his long nails and delicate, and yet still manly, fingers look so sexy next to his shaft that he’s afraid he’s going to come right this second. “He likes it much more than me, and he’s wonderful at it.”

“As if I was ever going to say no,” Jimin laughs, but it’s choked up and weak.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how Jungkook’s face looks when he’s getting fucked.

His lips suddenly drop open, but keep a hint of a smile, long eyelashes fluttering against rosy cheeks. He drops forward, catching himself with his hands at the sides of Jimin’s head.

Jungkook laughs. “Puppy, cuh-calm down. What happened to letting Jiminnie hyung do the- ah -honors?”

“He fingered you, let me have this one,” Jeongguk huffs, and when Jimin looks over Jungkook’s shoulder, his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration as he rolls his hips into his clone, one of his hands moving between them, most likely prepping his clone further for Jimin with both his dick and fingers.

“Fuck, you’re both so hot,” Jimin hisses, not ashamed about his words even when Jungkook giggles, kissing him as a thank you.

“You too, hyung.” Jeongguk looks at him with dark, intense eyes. “Since the moment we saw your photos, we knew we had to have you.”

Jimin inhales, surprised at the confession, but before he can ask (because why would these two eternal beings want him from just a few, most likely terrible, pictures?), Jeongguk reaches one hand under Jungkook’s body and grabs Jimin’s dick to steady it as he helps his clone fit it against his own cock.

All of them curse, for different reasons — Jeongguk and Jimin at the unbelievable tightness, Jungkook at the delicious pain. They rest for a moment, unmoving and getting used to the sensations.

It’s Jungkook who starts moving first, rolling his hips on their dicks with a moan.

“C’mon, loves,” he purrs then, raising himself up to get leverage from his knees. Jeongguk’s hands immediately fall on his waist to steady him. “Fuck me, make me feel good.”

“Of course, Koo,” Jeongguk murmurs into his neck, kissing it way too softly for the situation. Jimin would have felt excluded, if he wasn’t balls deep in Jungkook, whose hands were still stroking his abs, nails leaving red stripes on his skin.

And then Jeongguk thrusts with a strength Jimin wasn’t expecting this soon.

He groans, grabbing onto Jungkook’s thighs where the edges of his thigh highs dig into the skin, when he begins bouncing, cock leaking all over their stomachs.

“Yeah, like that,” Jungkook moans, eyes closed in bliss and head thrown back onto Jeongguk’s shoulder, hair sticking to his sweaty temples. “Suh-so good for me, both o-of you, my pretty boys.”

Jimin loses track of time. Jungkook feels unreal on his dick, and coupled with Jeongguk’s length rubbing against his, he fears he’ll come first, but, thankfully, Jungkook looks close himself, his muscles quivering. He can’t really see Jeongguk, only his dark hand tattoos a stark contrast against Jungkook’s waist and chest, and his lips on his clone’s skin, but judging by his groans and stuttering pace he must be getting to the edge as well.

In fact, he cums first, Jimin can feel his dick twitching next to his, lube squelching obscenely as he whines, voice high. It doesn’t take Jungkook long to notice.

“H-how, ah, disappointing,” he laughs breathily, mean, and clenches just to torment Jeongguk more. “Didn’t even wait for, ah, Jiminie hyung. I thought the e-edging yesterday would’ve taught you suh-something.”

“‘m sorry, Koo,” Jeongguk pants into his shoulder and his hands tremble on his waist while they help him rise and fall on their cocks, but Jimin can give him props for still trying to do his best to fuck Jungkook, even with his limping, sore dick.

“Let him off this time,” Jimin says with a deep rasp in his voice that appears only when he’s in this mood. Feeling mean, he thrusts his hips up sharply, making both of them cry out at once. “Puppy was juh- fuck- just too overwhelmed to think.”

Jungkook hums, looking down at Jimin as Jeongguk still pleads brokenly with desperate thrusts, but one of his hands comes up to pet his hair and red cheek and he calms down a little.

“You fit so wuh-well with us, hyungie.”

Jimin can only manage a weak laugh with blushed cheeks, too focused on making Jungkook come before himself. He reaches for his dick and rubs the wet slit with his thumb, and it takes only a few more thrusts and strokes, before the clone spills all over his hand with a pleased moan. The spasms of his muscles around Jimin’s dick make him cum in the next minute, every ounce of energy suddenly leaving him, even though he’s barely moved save for his hips the whole time.

Jeongguk slips out of Jungkook immediately after he realizes they’re done, falling on the pillows next to them with an exhausted groan.

“Never doing this again,” he mumbles into the soft satin, long hair messy without the band that he must’ve lost sometime during the fucking.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Jungkook laughs, breathy and sated, and doesn’t shy away when Jimin scoots back to be more upright and pulls him into his arms. They’re both sweaty and desperately need a shower (and Jimin can feel hunger gnawing at his stomach, despite just eating breakfast), but none of them care right now.

Jimin doesn’t even have the strength to jerk when he feels a hand on his thigh. He looks to the side, meeting Jeongguk’s half-open from exhaustion, dark eyes.

“Stay with us,” he murmurs, looking soft and fuzzy after such an intense scene. “Even after everything is solved. Our doors will be open for you.”

Jimin swallows, but he knows what he’s going to say even before Jungkook raises his head from the crook of his neck, face expectant and excited at the prospect of having another pretty boy on hand.

He might not know much about them, but isn’t it how relationships start?

(And, again. Does he even have anything to come back to?)

“Okay.” He nods, snorting when both of them perk up with identical smiles on their faces.

“Okay?” Jeongguk tilts his head, suddenly cheeky.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll come back,” he says again, a surprised noise leaving his mouth when Jungkook grabs his face between his hands and tilts it up. Jimin’s heart stutters in his chest.

“Welcome to the family, hyungie,” he giggles and kisses him.

Jimin laughs into his mouth and when another hand, much stronger and a little calloused, curls around his own, he squeezes it back, happy.

 

 

 

Looking at Jeongguk’s childhood, nobody would have expected that he’d turn out this way, stealing and then killing people for a living, but he guesses the world doesn’t have to make sense. He was a happy child, grew up with both of his loving parents at the outskirts of Busan. They weren’t the most wealthy, but it was okay that he didn’t have all the newest and coolest toys, because his belly was always full, and that was more important. He might have not seen it when he was a kid, but he did later, when he met Jungkook and realized that not everyone had as much luck as he did.

Since the youngest years, Jungkook mastered the act of luring people in, because that was the only thing he’d known for a long time.

They met at 14, when they were only beginning to grow into themselves. At first, the painfully shy Jeongguk was terrified of Jungkook, that giggly teenage boy who liked pretty skirts and looked and sounded exactly like him, even though he was sure he had never had a twin brother. And how could they even be twins, if their mothers looked so different but also at the same time unspeakably like their biological mothers?

As soon as their parents realized that they’re not just weirdly similar by coincidence, that they’re, in fact, a miracle, they worked hard not to let anyone discover the truth. Well, at least Jeongguk’s parents did, bringing Jungkook under their wing once they had discovered that his mother didn’t care about him as much as she let on.

To this day even Jeongguk doesn’t know the details of what exactly Jungkook had to deal with back in the U.S., when he should have been a scrawny teenager, but his big eyes somehow always seemed like they’ve seen worlds fall and build back up again. He learned how to control it after his mother dropped him off with a big sum of money at Jeongguk’s and never came back, but it was still disturbing, sometimes, to a 15 year old little Ggukie, who, despite that, quickly became Jungkook’s shadow after finally getting to know him. Whether he yearned to protect him from his father that he knew Jungkook and his mom had left (ran away from) in the U.S., and from whatever had hurt him in the past, or if he wanted to be protected by him, he didn’t know.

But now, he knows it’s both, as he looks at Jungkook in his black thigh high platform boots with thick buckles and a pink, short suspender skirt with a cute, white shirt, wielding a baseball bat loaded with sharp, bloody nails. The pout on his lips is so unfitting that he can’t help but laugh despite the truly gruesome scene.

He has gone after him once, he would do it again. And again and again and again.

God, he’s whipped.

For the first time in his life not just for one man, though.

“It’s really cute that you thought this plan of yours would work,” Jungkook sighs, looking over his bat and scrunching his freckled with blood nose at the pieces of flesh stuck between the nails, before bringing it down on the leg he's just struck again with a disgusting, wet crunch, annoyed. Jeongguk knows he hates cleaning it. “Was it worth it?” he asks over the ear-piercing scream.

“Luh-let me go, you psycho!”

Jeongguk changes the leg he’s been leaning on for the past ten minutes against the wall and scans Hyunwoo’s sorry state, playing with Jungkook’s butterfly knife, printed with Hello Kitty on the blades.

He’d appreciate his will to live if it wasn’t so annoying. They have a beauty waiting for them at their apartment. Jeongguk wants to suck him off.

He licks his lips, remembering the look on Jimin’s face when Jeongguk went down onto his knees in front of him two days ago for the first time, a few hours after their first time together. Yeah, he’d much rather be doing that again now.

He catches Jungkook’s eyes and points at his watch with an impatient furrow of his brows. Jungkook giggles at him, but nods, and turns back towards Taemin’s boyfriend.

Yeah. Love could make you do weird things, Jeongguk thinks and sighs inwardly. At least when he left his family (with their permission, mind you; both of them loved them too much to break contact fully, his parents just didn’t know what would hurt them) to travel with Jungkook and then started their thieving career, because he was at it almost as good back then as he is at handling a sniper rifle now, and Jungkook deserved everything pretty, he didn’t try to ruin the life of someone completely innocent. Didn’t kill an innocent person to do so, as if the poor waitress, just a student trying to scrape by, at Magic Shop had been a mere pawn.

“Listen, Hyunwoo-ah.” Jungkook perches on his lap and the man clearly bites back a scream, trembling, tied up in the metal chair when the weight presses on his battered leg. The bat has made it truly unrecognizable, just like his left hand. “I know that you probably think you were doing the right thing, trust me, I understand,” he says while glancing at Jeongguk briefly, and then his eyes come back to Hyunwoo. His face would have been considered handsome before, albeit nothing spectacular, but now he’s clammy with sweat and misses an ear. Jeongguk has no idea where it’s gone. “But, ah. You see, Jiminnie hyung is my baby now, too. I don’t like that you decided that hurting him and using your connection to his father just to get your Taemin his spot would be the best idea.”

“What do you want from me?!” Hyunwoo growls, but his eyes and posture betray him. He’s terrified, knows he won’t get out of this room alive.

He lasted long. It’s been three hours since he woke up in Bangtan’s playroom, as Jungkook likes to call it when he’s in the mood, and didn’t even have to say anything besides confirming what they already knew, because their team had already found everything they needed. For such a big scheme he really executed it terribly.

All they needed to do was look into the person Jimin’s father had given the control over his son’s bank account to. It was a walk in the park from Hyunwoo's unaware father to him.

Jeongguk will probably feel a little bad for Taemin, later. After all, finding out your secret boyfriend murdered an innocent woman and bought the help of a drug cartel just to get you a position a step higher could probably be quite shocking.

He jumps back into reality when Jungkook skips over to him and hands him a gun, his gleaming black beretta, with a smile. “Wanna do the honors?”

Jeongguk hums, mind going back to Jimin briefly, remembering that first day when it all became real, and from Jungkook’s stare he knows he’s thinking about him, too.

“Absolutely.” He takes the gun and brings Jungkook closer into a half hug with an arm around his waist. Both of them ignore Hyunwoo’s begging that rises higher and higher in pitch the longer they stall.

He kisses Jungkook when a bang echoes in the sterile room and then everything becomes quiet. They would’ve spent much longer standing like this and licking into each other's mouths if not for Namjoon’s voice in the speakers, reprimanding them not to fuck there again.

Jeongguk snorts, but listens, pecking Jungkook’s giggling lips one last time. “Let’s go back home to Jimin?”

“Always, baby.”