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kithtaehyung · 2 years

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house party (3tan) | myg

title: house party pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks rating/genre: pg ; angst ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: what happens at a house party. and what happens afterwards. warnings: pov switch (just one), house party, pining, alcohol consumption, cursing, timeskips, angst, i am so sorry but yeah there’s angst again, stress, min yoongi..., a brief brother appearance??, the ending :)) note: and we are onto the next part! i… already apologize for what’s in here but don’t hate me too too much until you read it all ok thanks :) huge thanks to @joheunsaram @kookskingdom and @sugasbabiie for being super last minute angel betas!! note 2: if you haven’t gotten around to the other three tangerines fics yet, i highly encourage you to read those first. it would make more sense! drop date: january 16th, 2022, 7:17pm est word count: 10k !!

Yoongi’s only here because he needs to unwind.

No matter what other excuses he has—if he has any at all—he chucks them all to the wayside as he takes another sip of his drink.

It’s not like he frequents parties because of the thrill anymore. No. That died out a long time ago, back when they were pushing each other in shopping carts and drinking liquor straight out of bottles they may or may not have used fake IDs for.

Tonight, he’s simply hanging with his friends and entertaining the people that are brave enough to walk up to him. Same old, same old.

“Hey, handsome. I thought you weren’t gonna be here.”

“You’re here,” he responds, mouth in a curve with no heat. The sooner he flirts back, the sooner they leave—that’s what he’s figured out from all these years in the game. People that frequent these things with a certain energy want the chase, the difficulty, the ones supposedly too hard to get. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He would know. He was one of them.

“Always so cute.”

“You know me.”

“I do.”

They don’t.

“See you around, Min.”

“See ya.”

Predictable. As these things always are.

Maybe that’s why he’s staring into the rest of the crowded house but not really seeing anything. Beneath the thump of music and random conversations, the underlying drone of monotony keeps his eyes from blinking too much—drying them out faster than whatever’s in his cup.

More people. More drinks. Another passing flirt. Someone brave enough to latch onto his arm—at least she’s pretty and has her own drink. He hates when they grab at his liquor.

God, he’s so bored. Why did he think this would help him? Why did he even come if his best friend wasn’t even in town?

Hmm. Speaking of that household...

Yoongi wonders about you.

You were the first unpredictable thing that happened to him in a minute. In a life full of unsurprising, dull nights just like this one, you served as a spot of color that cut through that haze. Like sunlight.

Ironic, since you came with the rain.

Taking another swig, he wonders if you’re okay.

Despite the handful of moments he saw you in the last few months, he hasn’t heard much from you directly. You were always just out of his reach, not in any position to have true one-on-one conversation with. Hell, the closest he got was on new years and that certainly wasn’t good enough for him. He could’ve stayed on that balcony with you all night.

Ever since then, it’s been random passings or quick party games you both got roped into. Nothing major or anything to his tastes.

Although, there was that one time.

He laughs to himself instead of at the girl on his arm remembering the time you walked into your kitchen, almost tripping over yourself seeing him there so early in the morning. It was adorable as hell.

Just like you were that one rainy day. The day he thinks about quite often—more times than he’s allowed himself to anyway.

There was a brief period where he really did feel bad about it. But when he remembers how you looked in his bed, how you were so natural with it, how you fit him so well, any regret is suddenly nonexistent.

To say he hadn’t taken a cold shower or two since then is also a lie.

“What’s up, Yoong.”

“Sup,” he responds, shaking hands and bringing people in.

“Why’s it so crowded?”

It’s Jimin walking up who answers, smiling when Yoongi’s attachment gives him doe eyes. “Cus all the university kids are out.”

“Figures.”

“You stocked, Chim?”

“Yeah. Kitchen.” The man fixes his hat before his voice drops. “Wanna come with, beautiful?”

And Yoongi is more than happy to have his arm freed.

As the flow of people keeps persisting, he goes through the motions. Saying hi, getting roped into a game, lap occupied and neck even more so. It’s all the same. He’s convinced that he can do all of this while asleep, and this realization overwhelms him enough to consider a quick exit.

Until he sees you.

Why is he surprised?

No. It’s not exactly surprise that he feels. Maybe it’s a different type of feeling springing from his chest—less like shock and more like relief. Which is odd, but he’ll think to analyze it later and not when he’s clearly starting to get a bit tipsy.

But Yoongi knows he can’t stare too long. Or do anything, really. All he can do is be cool with knowing you’re in the same space and that you’re having a good time.

Besides. As much as he wants a repeat of that day, there really isn’t anything he can do unless you approach him again. The risk of getting caught seems to always multiply when people do things more than once, so he’s been holding back. A lot.

Another sip.

Yoongi’s done what he could: extend vague offers. Because no matter how many times he’s told you that you can come back, you haven’t.

“Y’all want another round?”

“Hell yeah.”

“We’re gonna go upstairs.”

“What about Min?”

He feels his hood being played with before it’s slowly pulled over his hair, and a giggle that he’s heard a million times tickles his ear.

“Nah, he seems busy.”

“When is he not? Shit.”

It makes sense. Your brother has been in town more often lately because his job doesn’t need him traveling, so even if you wanted to, he figures you couldn’t just slip away again.

Yoongi does wonder if you even want to, though. That’s also something he’s been thinking about despite not knowing what the hell for.

Maybe you moved on. Found someone else. If that’s the case, whoever it is better know damn well how to take care of you.

A hand ghosts up his zipper. “Do I get you to myself tonight?”

“Depends,” Yoongi says in response, eyes lidded more out of sheer boredom than anything else. He doesn’t forget to smile, though, in case his attitude is blatantly obvious. Not like he really cares either way.

“On what?”

Fuck, his eyes land on you again, watching you talk to people he recognizes but doesn’t exactly know. They seem fine, though. And they’re making you laugh.

He likes seeing you laugh.

Goddamn, he’s gotten fucking soft. He needs to get it together and stay in his lane; there’s people here that know you both and your brother. Not one for drama, Yoongi doesn’t wanna bring any negativity into your life, which would absolutely happen if the guy ever ended up suspecting shit.

“You seem out of it, baby,” the same voice chides before a manicured nail tilts his chin, and he reluctantly shifts his gaze. What the fuck was this chick’s name again? Did she even say? “Lemme fix that.”

Yoongi’s hands don’t move as he gets full lips on his mouth, but his eyes shut in order to force himself to get you out of his sight. Arms are slinging around his neck to pull him closer, but they’re too aggressive. Too firm.

They make him remember the way your hands felt on his shoulders. So delicate, so unsure but still gripping with purpose. Nothing like what he’s been used to all this time. You were so damn refreshing.

Can he wish that it was you on his lap instead? Is he allowed to want you to be the one he’s making out with in front of everyone? Can that ever be the case?

Fuck no.

All he can wish is for you to stay preoccupied with whatever you’re doing. For you to be happy on the other side of the room.

And he’ll just have to be fine with that.

…Until around an hour later, when he catches you stumbling through a hallway to get to the kitchen, teetering on your toes and stupidly reaching for a bottle.

Shit.

Is no one stopping you?

“Yoong, go. Your turn.”

“Play without me,” he says offhandedly, dropping cards onto the plastic fold-out table at his waist. “I got the next round.”

“‘Kay!”

With a sigh, he makes his way over to you, trying not to react to your giggles as your pouring outright misses your cup.

Damn, he shouldn’t be the one doing this. The voice in his head is fighting him the whole walk over. But, with a quick scan, he doesn’t see anyone you normally come to parties with. Where are the people that he’s seen around you before?

Plus, the feeling he has in his gut is something he tends to not ignore too often. It’s how he’s survived this long despite being a complete idiot.

“Hey,” Yoongi mutters, standing and waiting for you to notice him. When you finally do—several seconds later—he asks, “You good?”

The faraway, searching look in your eye is already enough of an answer, but the outright flirty way you greet him boldens it.

And as much as he loves that tone coming from you, he pushes the inside of a cheek before confiscating your bottle. “That’s a no. Who’d you come with?”

Another fit of giggles bubbles from your pretty lips before you make a raunchy joke out of his question, and Yoongi looks away while trying not to be amused.

“I need you to focus.” The sooner he finds someone to take you home, the better. Truthfully, he’s just glad he found you at this point. How much did you even have?

“You’re no fun.”

“Tough shit,” he tuts while setting the glass down with a clink. “I need to know who you got here with, so fess up.”

Where are your friends? The rowdy ones from new years?

“No one,” you slur like you’re proud of that wrong answer, leaning on him and making his job ten thousand times harder.

“Yeah. Time to go,” Yoongi orders, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Your skin feels soft against his sleeve, and his fingers curl around your bicep just enough to stable your wobbling.

It seems that you suddenly realize what’s happening because you’re looking at him with wide eyes, whispering his name and saying hi—a real hi. Took you long enough.

Hold up.

Did you not know it was him before? Are you really that gone? It’s completely possible that you assumed he was a total stranger, which frightens Yoongi to a degree that he will absolutely not acknowledge.

“Hey,” he murmurs back, not knowing what else to say and wanting you safe in your bed already.

Fucking hell. Why did he take his eyes off of you in the first place? Why does he feel responsible for all this? Fuck, he’s actually mad at himself and nothing even happened.

You’re timid now, shoulders folding inward. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you home.”

“What?” You grab a tiny fistful of his shirt, which he finds much too endearing. “Can’t people see?”

He’s damn lucky you’re still whispering. But even if you weren’t, he could easily chalk this up to you being drunk off your ass if anyone overheard. Feeling a bit better now that you’re starting to gain some sense back, his eyes soften when he corrects, “Your home, doll.”

“No, I don’t wanna.”

“Too bad.”

A new voice chops the conversation short as a body steps right in front of Yoongi, dark shoes just barely missing his kicks. “What’s going on? Is this guy bothering you?”

Who in the fuck…

Yoongi looks at the way his footwear was millimeters from scuffing, tongue lolling around in his mouth before he shifts his eyes back upward.

If you didn’t burst into an introduction, things would’ve turned out much, much differently.

“Oh, hey! This is Yoongi.”

Tilting his head and checking the new guy out, Yoongi can already tell they’re just as gone as you are.

Is this who you came with? How has he not seen this dude before?

“Yeah,” Yoongi tacks on, annoyed beyond belief. “And who the fuck are you?”

— — — — —

Pulsing.

Angry, horrible pulsing in your head.

Even opening your eyes strains your muscles, and you squint staring at light bleeding through your blinds.

Wait, no.

What the fuck, those blinds aren’t yours.

Where the hell?

Immediately, you’re disoriented, yanking covers that also aren’t yours off your body and inspecting your form.

Clothes. These clothes are yours. Okay.

Wait, something about this place feels familiar.

Really familiar.

Blinking and wincing when your head pounds even harder, you scan the room around the bed you’re in—a bed you’ve most definitely occupied before in another circumstance. You see the same desk you saw before, the same bathroom door you’ve walked through before, the same nightstand that was reached into before… To…

Oh.

You’re dreaming.

There’s no way you’re in Yoongi’s room.

Thumping your head back down, you bury your nose into your pillow and breathe in, amazed that this dream even has his scent embedded inside its confines.

You’ve missed smelling him this close. If only this massive headache would leave you alone so that you can enjoy this moment of solace by yourself.

Wow. Even the sounds of him humming beyond the door grace you in this dreamscape. And even the smells of coffee and food make a presence…

Your breath ceases.

And your eyes slowly blink, hard.

Because you realize that you’re not in a dream at all.

Holy shit. You’re really back here.

Why the fuck can’t you remember how this happened?

Sitting up on an elbow, you notice your phone charging on the nightstand nearest your sweaty, icky form. Beside it sits a glass of water and some pain meds, all of the items watching you like they were judging you in your sleep.

You’re too shocked to react in earnest, simply sitting up as best as you can to grab the pills and water to take. When you’re done, your phone is next off the table, and you unhook it from the cord before inspecting your lockscreen through a squint.

Geez. At least you won’t forget who you went to that party with. His name is all you can see while scrolling through your texts, all of them wondering if you made it back okay and apologizing for not being able to take care of you.

He’s nice. But you don’t see that going anywhere.

Fuck, you feel sick.

You need to freshen up before Yoongi can see you like this. There’s no way you’re walking out there feeling this horrible and looking even worse.

Gingerly slipping out of his bed, you feel strange walking to his bathroom fully clothed after what happened last time. Which is odd, considering what you’re doing now is the normal operation of things.

When your feet hit tile, the first thing you notice is that it’s slightly damp like the air around you, which can only mean that Yoongi showered not too long ago.

Why couldn’t you have woken up sooner!

Shaking your head, you inspect his tidy space in earnest—though the white light isn’t kind to your headache in the least.

It’s all so very… Him. Black finish on all the accessories and even blacker towels to match. The only things he has out are items you assume he uses daily, save for some choice hair dye boxes that have one of your brows lifting.

But you don’t dwell on them for too long because the next few head pulses shove you into a tiny section of cabinets whose handles dig right into your sides.

“Fuck!”

What the hell! Your hangovers have never, ever been this bad. Why did you go so far last night? And seriously, how the hell did you end up at Yoongi’s?

“You okay?”

“Oh, shit,” you whisper as you right yourself, gripping one of the mean metal bars while pretending to be civil with them. Clearing your hoarse throat, you fake an okay mood to the man holding a doorknob across the room. “Hello.”

“Hey.”

Oh fuck.

Yoongi’s wearing glasses.

Of fucking course he is.

If the obvious fact that he’s not wearing a shirt under his hoodie isn’t enough to torture you further, his dark hair—freshly washed and mussed—serves as the final nail in your coffin.

And it’s completely unfair how, in comparison, you must look like an absolute trainwreck.

“If you’re good,” Yoongi drones, “Then come out before the food gets cold.”

Good? You’re the farthest thing from that! Forget the sick you’re feeling; his looks alone are destroying you. Hell, you might not even make it to his door if he keeps standing there like that. You’d disintegrate!

“K,” you rasp out. “Thank you.”

He only nods before shutting his door, and your shoulders instantly drop before you breathe normally again.

— — — — —

After you finish struggling to make yourself presentable, you make your way out of Yoongi’s bathroom plagued with the same thoughts as before.

He took you back to his place instead of yours.

What the actual fuck happened last night? Yoongi doesn’t seem particularly chipper, though that word wouldn’t really describe him in the first place. Is he mad at something that went down? Is he upset with you?

Thousands of possibilities run through your brain, all of them negative and yet entirely plausible. The only thing you can remember for sure is that you saw him at the party last night. Multiple times. And suddenly you’re in his bed?

Fuck, what if you kept him from something? There were plenty of girls on him from the tiny blips that you remember. What if he was supposed to go home with one or more of them? As much as that pains you to think about, you know that is always an option with Yoongi. You can’t think that you suddenly have this strange claim on him. That is territory you need to flat-out avoid.

Goddamn it. Whatever happened must have been a huge inconvenience to him regardless. Judging from the look he gave you just minutes ago, you don’t think you should stay much longer—no matter how much you yearn to.

Both hands cover your agony as you try your best to quell your headache. It’s starting to reside a bit due to the medicine, but you know you’re gonna need some food in your stomach before it truly works. And you also know that a huge fucking apology is in order as soon as you walk out there.

But when you open the door, the aroma that envelops you is… divine.

What the hell? Who even is this man? Whatever he’s preparing smells incredible.

Not that whatever he’s whipping up matters. You should head out now and totally, completely ignore the stare he’s directing at you from his stove. And his ass in those sweats.

You clear your throat while making your way past his table, mouth salivating and stomach rumbling against your will. “Thank you for the medicine,” you croak. “I’ll just… Head out n—”

“Sit down.”

His voice is much deeper than you remember. The tone is enough to halt you in your tracks while shivers race down your arms. Stuttering, you refute, “I’m okay. Really.”

Yoongi sets down his wooden spatula with a clunk, aiming a sharp look your way. “Eat,” he commands, leaving no room for arguments. “Then you can go.”

Ouch. Why does it hurt when he says it?

“Okay.” You backtrack, the pulsing in your head accentuating Yoongi’s insistence. Both of them make you wince.

After unnecessary struggle, you end up picking the same chair you sat in last time you were here.

You stare at the table as you hear sounds spilling from the kitchen, not wanting to watch Yoongi work lest you yearn for him even more. Fuck, you can’t be feeling this way, but you do. Especially now that you’re both alone again. Here.

If only he didn’t seem so pissed with you. You really want to know what you did so that you can at least say sorry. Maybe you hurled on him?

Oh god. If you messed up his shoes he has every right to be furious. You figure he would want to keep his kicks spotless.

A plate of basic breakfast food—complete with sliced fruit—is placed in front of you, and you flicker your eyes in time to see Yoongi settling down into the chair on your side.

The same one he sat in last time.

“Eat. Unless you’re allergic.”

“No, I’m…” How the fuck did he know exactly what you needed? Your eyes are already feasting and the rest of you is jealous. “Yeah, I’ll eat. Thank you.”

“No prob.”

Damn, his glasses suit him so well. It takes you much longer than necessary to shift your eyes away, and you busy yourself with picking at your food.

There are still so many questions swimming around in your alcohol-muddled brain, all of them fighting to be the first one out of your mouth so that Yoongi can just answer them. Any of them.

But of all things, one jumps to the forefront and launches out of your mouth before you get a single bite of substance,

“Did we…Umm.”

Beside you, Yoongi stops his movements, staring into your soul. “Did we umm?”

“Did we… You know.” Damn it. You know the words should leave your mouth easier now that you’ve gone all the way with him—a thought that makes you heat up from the inside. But they don’t.

You expect just a yes or no, but he just looks outright confused with a full bite of food in his mouth. If you were a betting person, you would even go so far as to say he looks offended.

“Fuck? Why would we? No.”

“Oh.”

Yoongi just looks at you, brows slightly furrowed and food swallowed. “Do you not remember anything?”

One shake of your head is all you can manage, embarrassment taking over your shoulders. “No. One moment I was at that party and the next… I woke up.”

“Damn.” He moves some of his food around. “You were more gone than I thought.”

“What even happened? Why am I here?”

The way he stares at you then makes you crumble. It’s a look you’ve seen before on people that had a tendency to hide things.

You don’t like this look on Yoongi.

“Long story short, you would’ve thrown yourself outta my car if I didn’t bring you here.”

“Oh, my god.” Your head slowly falls into your hands as shame fully encases your form. “Did I really.”

“Yup.”

“I’m scared to ask what else now.”

“You wanted to sleep naked. Dunno if that’s a personal preference or…”

“What the fuck!” you whisper into your hands, mortified. Explanations and excuses gush from your throat, “I mean, sometimes? I usually just sleep with a shirt— I mean— That’s not usually my preference so I don’t know why… I…”

“It’s cool.” Yoongi leans back as he lazily shifts hair from his specs. “Once you passed out it was chill.”

You sigh, hating how you can’t remember shit from last night even though you were a handful. More than a handful, apparently. And a brat at that. No wonder he’s so stern with you now.

“Sorry you had to do all this,” you whisper with resentment towards no one but yourself.

“Don’t sweat it. That party was ass anyways.”

“I guess it was if I blacked out. Got all dressed up for nothing!” You fold your hands to inspect your fingers. “Even did my nails and everything.”

Yoongi leans on his elbow, food abandoned and looking right at you. When he agrees, part of you wants to melt into his floors,

“They do look nice.”

“Thanks.”

He rests his cheek on a fist. “Now eat. The rest of you looks awful.”

“Wow.”

It occurs to you that the last time you were both sitting in those chairs, something happened that changed your life forever. You start to lose yourself in thinking about that day again, to the point of outright staring into nothing.

But you finally eat after you burn under Yoongi’s glare.

— — — — —

Finishing your outstanding meal doesn’t take you too long, but it feels like eons because you’re being watched. Does he have to see you physically swallow so that he knows you’re getting nourishment? What the hell is going on in his mind?

When you’re almost done, Yoongi finally talks. “Still the same, huh.”

Ah. Busted. You know he’s referring to earlier, when you couldn’t even say the word you wanted to. And you know this because you were just thinking about the exact same thing between bites. “Mostly,” you admit. “But.. A bit better.”

Yoongi nods, seeming to contain what he really wants to say. Yet another thing he’s keeping to himself. “Good. You should’ve been from the start, but. I feel like I’ve said my piece.”

“You definitely said a lot of things.”

“Ah… Did I?”

“Yeah.”

“Like what?”

“Umm.” You fold your lips together before looking away. Out the window by his table, you can see signs of rain. “Something about me riding it like a… Like a slut.”

When you look back at him, Yoongi’s pushing his lip upwards in thought, nodding sagely. “Sounds like me.”

“And you kept not believing that I was trash.”

“I still don’t.”

“So you still think I’m an amateur, huh?”

He gives you a once over before looking down at his table. Tapping its surface with a finger, he scoffs, “How can I not?” Tired eyes level with yours, unblinking behind his glasses. “I don’t have any new evidence.”

In a move as bold as the question you asked him the first time, you plead the scratch marks in his table for courage before blurting,

“And I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

You figure that time with Yoongi was a one-time deal. You’re free to joke with him because there is absolutely no way he would take your offer seriously.

Does that pain you? Yes. Of course you lament that every single night you’ve wanted to go over there but didn’t. But it’s better to expect nothing to quell the disappointment whenever he—

“Cute. But you should go.”

Does something like that.

Already resigned, you don’t feel hurt. Much.

“You’re right. I will.”

Leaving the table much calmer than last time, you dutifully take your plate to his kitchen space, feeling just a bit of warmth when you feel his eyes on you. Your hands find cleaning supplies easily, and you lose yourself in thought while you wash your dishes.

Seconds pass. And then more.

Interesting. Even though you’re sporting a gnarly hangover and Yoongi doesn’t seem pleased, you feel incredibly… At peace. Just being here. Standing in Yoongi’s tiny kitchen while water runs over your hands.

As to why this thought comes to you, you aren’t completely sure. Is it because he took so much care of you unprompted? Or is it because you’ve already traveled to this place countless times after you’ve fallen asleep—so many times that it now seems wonderfully and frighteningly familiar?

Before you realize what’s happening, the light haze around your mind dissipates when a warm, rough hand covers yours around the plate you think you’re still cleaning.

“Don’t waste my water,” a deep voice rumbles way too close to your ear, “Or I’ll make you pay for it.”

“Shit, sorry.” You rush to turn the faucet off with your free hand, embarrassed to think that you had been standing there with the water pouring over already spotless porcelain. Quickly fishing for an excuse, you whisper, “Damn headache.”

Yoongi does nothing but take his hand away, setting it on the counter next to your side. It’s at that moment that you realize he’s right behind you, and the knowledge is enough to spike the hairs on the back of your neck.

Fuck. No matter how many times you’ve visited him in your dreams, nothing compares to the way he makes you feel in person. Because Yoongi’s merely existing and you’re already threatening collapse.

Every single one of your senses is heightened. You smell the cologne sticking to his freshly showered skin; you feel the heat radiating from his body; you see the way his veins move in his hand as he shifts it on the granite top. Your brain is too busy processing everything in the moment that it forgets to tell you not to turn your head.

So you do.

And you wait.

The kitchen suddenly becomes filled to the ceiling with tension, both of you waiting for the other to say something—anything. You want to know what he’s hiding, what he’s thinking, why he’s acting the way he is. But you also feel like he won’t say anything if he doesn’t want to.

Fuck, this is agonizing. You finally crack and move your jaw to talk—

“I know what you’re doing.”

Your teeth snap together before you speak. “What? Me?”

Yoongi moves away from you, and you finally get ahold of oxygen again, not even realizing that you ceased breathing. “Yeah. You.”

“What am I doing.”

“Stalling.”

“Stalling?” You face him fully, arms folded. “I’m not stalling.”

Yoongi just watches you with that face—another face you don’t seem to like on him. It’s the one he wears when he simply doesn’t believe you.

Pursing your lips, you relent. “Okay. I’ll admit I’m zoning out. But I’m not”—you wave one of your hands—“Whatever you’re calling it.”

“If you wanna stay, stay. But I’m going to sleep.” He walks back to the table to grab his plate. “I’m about to pass out.”

“Sorry,” you say, heart slipping down your rib cage because it knows what your decision will be. “I’ll go. But I’ll get that first.”

As Yoongi slowly hands you his dishes to wash, you stare directly at them, avoiding the gaze he’s pinning you with entirely.

— — — — —

It’s gloomy outside, which shouldn’t affect your outlook, but it does. It just got done raining last time you left, so maybe that’s why you feel this heaviness in your chest now.

But, as you see your driver inching closer on your phone, you know you made the right decision. You don’t want to burden Yoongi much longer, especially since you overstayed your welcome as soon as he put you in his car.

Damn it, you want to stay. You want your hangover and this weird feeling between the two of you to go away so that you can shove him into his bedroom for a much needed round two. So that you can thank him for taking so much care of you when he didn’t even need to.

But reality has other plans and they’re not ideal in the slightest.

It’s a bit of a stifled exit as Yoongi waits for you to put your shoes on. He’s quiet and brimming with things he won’t say, and it sucks to feel like he just wants you gone. Like he can’t get rid of you fast enough.

Trying to tuck away this awful sadness, you clear your throat before straightening. “Thank you again, Yoongi.”

“You talk in your sleep, you know that?”

“What?” Brows furrow just as your ride app notifies you to head out, and you search his tired eyes. Is that why he couldn’t sleep? “No.”

He just nods to himself a couple times before opening the door. “I see.”

“What did I say?”

“Nothing important. Now go,” Yoongi murmurs as a hand is placed on your back. The touch burns right through you. “Ride’s waiting for you.”

“Seriously, I…” you whisper, wanting to hold on just a bit longer. You know he just wants to go the fuck to sleep but you need him to know how grateful you are.

And something tells you that you may not get another chance.

Admiring how handsome he looks in glasses, you map his face with purpose, trying to capture it perfectly in the hopes that his afterimage stays with you for a long time. “Thank you. I’ll pay you gas money, for the food, the stupid water bill—everything.”

And finally—finally—Yoongi’s eyes spark just a tiny bit. A mere flicker to set your soul on fire. “Don’t worry about it.” He tilts his head and offers a hollow smile. “Go.”

So you do. And it isn’t until you’re back home that you break, tossing yourself onto your bed and wondering what the fuck happened for things to turn out this way.

Did you fuck up again?

Probably.

Most likely.

Goddamn it.

— — — — —

Three months.

It’s been a whole three months since then. Three months full of wondering and speculating and getting absolutely nowhere…

So when Yoongi’s the first person you see when you walk into your kitchen one night, the sound you make is enough to startle even your brother.

“The fuck?” He looks at his friend before turning back to you, jacket collar shifting with his movements. “Never seen Yoongi before?”

“Fuck off!” you whisper before sniffling, quickly turning away from the both of them. Of course you look like an absolute wreck in his presence; of course the first time Yoongi sees you in months is when you’re sick.

You halfway hope this is just a fever dream, especially with the way he looks in that tracksuit. Fuck!

Frustrated, you hastily grab some water and something from a nearby fruit bowl, making sure your back is all Yoongi can see—if he’s even looking. “I just didn’t expect you to be home.”

“We’re heading out now. Don’t wait up.”

“Oh okay,” you acknowledge, hating that you slide your eyes sideways to catch one more glimpse before they go. But you can’t help it. It’s been way too long since you last saw him, and that expanse of time seemed to make him even more attractive.

When you look, shock registers in your brain.

Why does Yoongi appear somewhat amused? Isn’t he supposed to be over you? Avoiding you? Whatever the hell he’s doing?

Or is it because you look terrible? Fuck, he really does probably want nothing to do with you now. Maybe your drunk look slightly edges out your sickly look, and this man has now seen both. Wonderful.

You hear the shift of clothing and jewelry as they head out, and your brother shouts over his shoulder, “Don’t forget the dishes!”

Bitch! He knows you’re sick. Admittedly, you already feel like you’re on the getting better slope, but still. Annoyed with all the sudden surprises and his teasing, you huff, your threat following them down the hall to the front,

“I’ll cough on you in your sleep.”

Yoongi hisses out small laughs—shocking you one last time—before your brother swats him. “Try it! See ya.”

“Bye.”

And silence booms when the door shuts.

When you get to your room, it’s only then that you realize why Yoongi looked so amused.

The only thing you grabbed other than water was a tangerine.

— — — — —

Hours must have passed since the time you ventured back into your bed. You were barely able to down all the water and eat the whole fruit—one that you peeled successfully while throwing curses at a certain individual—before falling into a deep, warm rest. As you finally come to, your blinds only shield you from moonlight.

Damn. Hopefully you’ll be able to go back to sleep. You may not be able to until way into dawn now.

Rest still weighs on your eyes as you turn to face your nightstand, squinting when you reach for your phone and succumb to light. The lock screen shows some notifications—a lot from the same guy that wouldn’t leave you alone since the party—but there’s one in particular that has you almost throwing your device on the floor.

What the…?

Immediately, you click to open a thread that had previously only held short messages only pertaining to your brother. A thread that you never would have guessed would be used again.

Yoongi [11:55pm]: you awake?

What the hell. What the actual hell?

What do you do? All you can feel in your head is the overworking of wheels and cogs, grinding against each other and causing steam to hiss out of your ears.

Maybe you’re still dreaming. He’s been annoying like that for months, visiting you while you slept and not letting you forget how he made you feel. Sometimes it’s about that day last year; sometimes it’s about the time you both watched fireworks on new year’s. But most of the time, you’re simply transported back to his apartment, doing nothing and everything while being completely content. No awkwardness. No stress. No tension.

So maybe this is just another dream. You’ll wake up soon and have zero notifications from Yoongi on your lock screen and—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

What the fuck!

Audibly shuddering, you bite your lip while shakily pressing Accept, almost slipping in your haste and hitting Decline. Voice impossibly meek and head buried under your covers, you answer, “Hey.”

“Hey. Sorry if I woke you.”

Still suspended in disbelief, you try your hardest to stay calm, making sure to keep yourself neutral in case your brother is in his vicinity. “Oh, it’s okay. What’s up?”

“Your brother is an idiot. I’m taking him home.”

“Wait, what happened?” You pull your phone away from your face to inspect the time. “It’s only midnight.”

With a quick thought, you lament the fact that you really aren’t going back to sleep any time soon.

“Still can’t hold his liquor is all.”

“Oh, my god.” Figures. Thank goodness Yoongi is actually lucid enough to drive him back.

Or is he?

“Wait, are you good? Do I need to come get you?”

A small chuckle crackles through your receiver.

“Don’t worry. We’re almost there so unlock the door.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks.”

The call ends after that, and you thrust yourself out of your covers before scampering to the front, not wanting Yoongi to see you again in this state. After you undo the lock, you hear the sounds of a car rolling up, so you hightail it back to your room.

Only to slow in your fast walk when you realize.

If Yoongi needs help getting your brother to his bed, you need to assist. He already left a party to lug his ass home, so the least you can do is give him a hand here.

Ugh. He’s written you off anyways. What more can your sleep-riddled, baggy-shirt state do?

The scrape of shoes on concrete hit your ears, so you head back to crack open the front, peeking through and seeing your groaning sibling slung over Yoongi’s displeased shoulder.

“Idiot…” you sigh, widening the door when they reach the threshold and getting slammed with the strong reek of alcohol. “I keep telling him to be more careful.”

“Same,” Yoongi winces as he shoves him up a little more.

You shut the entrance to help him get your brother down the hall. “Well. If anyone can get to him, it’s you.”

“You think so?”

Both of you struggle as the annoyance between you is relying more and more on your bodies instead of his own legs. Holy hell, how much did he really have?

“Yeah,” you grunt. “He loves you.”

A tsk.

“Whatever. You feel the same.”

Yoongi’s silence is telling enough as you push open your brother’s door, your sibling’s groaning still persisting in your ear. Stumbling through the dark space, you both manage to get him onto his mattress, a trash can and towel being set up soon after.

Knowing the time, you figure that this is just a temporary leave from the party they were at. So you turn to Yoongi before assuming, “You heading back?”

Even though you don’t want him to leave so soon, you don’t want to be that person. Desperate or clingy or whatever he might call it. So much is still left unsaid between you, but you can’t pry. You mustn’t.

It might just make things worse.

Yoongi has his hands in his pockets, staring at your brother immediately falling asleep. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” You try not to let disappointment squeak through your mouth as you both make your way out of the room. “Thank you for taking him home.”

“You’re good. I didn’t want you to have to do it.”

Umm.

Of all things, that’s not what you expected to hear.

Mind racing, you question him while shutting your brother’s door behind you, “Why?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “You’re sick.”

“I mean,” you sputter out, “I’m not deathly ill or anything. But thank you.” You don’t know how to process what’s happening or even how to properly feel. But Yoongi’s always so damn considerate that you don’t know why you’re even surprised. It doesn’t matter how he feels about you; he’s just being Yoongi.

As the two of you make your way down the hall, you hear him ask, “How do you feel now?”

“I’m…” You absentmindedly play with your shirt. “Feeling better. Still getting over it but the worst part has passed. Like I’m not feeling like I’m dying so that’s good.”

“Nice.” He opens the door while keeping his eyes on you. “Make sure he’s okay.”

“Okay. Have fun.”

As he walks back to his car, you stare at his strides before closing the entrance and sighing.

It truly sucks how different things are between you now. You thought that, after that day and New Years, there would at least be something persisting.

That kiss on New Years had to mean something.

But you’ve been wrong about things before, and your dynamic with Yoongi is one of them. Apparently there isn’t one now, the delicious tension fizzing out into a stale drink that’s quickly abandoned on a railing.

You make your way into your kitchen, sadder than you thought you would be. Both of you were completely alone again for the first time in a long time, but neither of you broached the line.

It’s really over, isn’t it?

Yoongi’s really done.

The fruit bowl from earlier slips into your vision, and you remember what he told you that first day. Whether or not he was joking, you still wanted to repay him those little citruses that you just halfway peeled on his table. You want to do anything to bring some normalcy back into… Whatever this is.

You break.

Yes, this is just an excuse. Yes, you’re grasping at straws. But damn it, you hate whatever the hell is happening so you’re gonna fight through it. Fuck consequences.

And if this is just Yoongi keeping you at a distance like he should have before…

No! None of that. You just have to fucking try.

You scurry back to your room and swipe your phone from the bed, hoping he didn’t make it too far from your place. Is it a super strange time to repay this favor? Yes. But you don’t know when the next chance will present itself. You’ll try anything at this point.

Yoongi: Outgoing Call

It rings a few times before he answers, and the fact that you didn’t expect him to makes you suck in a breath.

“You good?”

Focus. Just relax. Breathe. “Yeah. It’s just… Umm.”

“What’s wrong?”

This was stupid. Hang up. Oh, god, hang up before you start crying. “Nothing! This is too silly, never mind. I’ll go.”

“Talk to me, doll.”

Fuck. The sudden nickname drop makes you squirm, and you have to compose yourself before continuing. It affects you much differently when you haven’t heard it in ages, like a tiny memento you didn’t know you lost. Muttering into your receiver, you slowly explain, “I just have tangerines… if you wa—”

You can’t even finish your sentence before hearing a proud chuckle on the other line.

“How the hell did I know?”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you bite back through the widest smile you’ve beamed in awhile.

“Took a wild guess.”

You don’t know what to say. All you can do is grin to yourself and shake your head at his stupid intuition. Already, calling him is worth it. “So, yeah. I told you it was stupid.”

“It’s adorable.”

“I am not adorable,” you pout, slipping back into your bed, the original reason you called quietly forgotten. It’s a strange feeling to finally talk to Yoongi one-on-one again, but strange in a way that has your blood pulsing. Why is he even on the line still? “At least, not now.”

“You are.”

“Lies. If anything I’m terrifying.”

“’Cus you’re sick?”

“Yeah.”

A scoff.

“You just look like someone that’s sick. Nothing bad.”

“Still embarrassing,” you retort, even though every doubt from before has been effectively squashed. You should have known he’s probably used to seeing women in all sorts of ways by now. “Why couldn’t you have seen me on a good day?”

“The fuck is a good day?”

“I dunno. Like a day where I don’t look like death?” You go through your proverbial files in your mind, trying to think of an example you could give him. “I did look nice before a party like, two weeks ago.”

You can still hear the telltale hum of Yoongi still driving. His voice turns airy as he asks,

“Ah, so for the boyfriend, huh?”

“The what?”

…Huh?

Your brain dashes on overdrive. Zero to a hundred. Not a single thought can finish as you sprint through the last few months. Did you have a boyfriend? What boyfriend? Yeah, you had a fling, but that was— You only— Wait. Boyfriend? What is he—

“Oh, done with that already? The dude at Jimin’s?”

The dude at Jimin’s? Blinking multiple times, you’re trying to think of who he could possibly be…

Oh, shit. You remember. It’s the guy. The guy that texted you multiple times after that night, and then proceeded to text you nonstop ever since then. “What du— Oh, my god. No, he’s— No. That was not my boyfriend.”

Prolonged silence.

“Umm.”

“What?”

“You should probably break that to him. Based on what he told me that night, he didn’t know that.”

“Motherfucker…” Your eyes shut in utter exhaustion, all the notifications you’ve been getting now clicking into place. “That’s why he keeps blowing up my phone.”

“Word of advice. Guys like that need a clear answer. So if you’re dodging him then give it to him straight. Otherwise they’re just gonna keep thinking whatever they think is true.”

“Yeah, I am. I will.” You slap your head with a palm. “…Tomorrow. I don’t wanna deal with his texts now.”

“Good girl.”

Holding your breath for a moment, you sink further into your sheets, wondering when Yoongi’s going to end the call. You’re still shocked he’s still speaking to you. What were you even talking about before the whole misunderstanding?

Oh. Right. “So, umm… About that good day. Do you want me to describe it?” Eyes lowering, you take another dive of faith tonight, testing the waters that you threw yourself into. “Or send it?”

And the atmosphere shifts immediately.

“Show me.”

“Okay.” Buzzing, you scroll through your photos and send him one of the pics you took on the night you described, decked out in the first outfit in a while that you sincerely liked. From your confident pose, no one can tell that your heart wasn’t truly working.

It takes a second for you to get any response, but when you do, you feel something beat in your chest.

“Goddamn.”

You cough, swallowing your saliva and excitement. “So yeah.. That would’ve been a good day.”

“I guess. But it doesn’t matter.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re attractive. That’s it.”

If you weren’t already lying down, you know you would have melted into the ground. Knees wouldn’t have worked properly; ankles would have given out. A clear memory of you telling him something about him being honest blips through your mind, and you know it isn’t just your sickness that has your forehead running hot.

But suddenly, you hear a car door shut, so you know Yoongi got back to the party. The jingling of keys rings through your receiver.

Fuck, you really want to stay on the line with him so damn bad.

“Thank you,” is all you can say, knowing your time is running out. “And Yoongi?”

“Hmm.”

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but…” you bite your lip, hoping to everything that he won’t be mad or feel some type of way. But why the fuck would you say it now! He’s about to go back into a party and forget all about you and this entire conversation. “Ah. Never mind.”

“Say that one more time and I’m hanging up.”

“Sorry.” You sigh, closing your eyes and knowing this is gonna be a big mistake. But you can’t help the sentiments from sliding out of your lips. “About the boyfriend thing. I didn’t know.”

“No sweat.”

“And I just… I miss you.”

Fuck. You said it. It’s out there now. The one thing you’ve been wanting to say ever since standing on that godforsaken balcony with eyes straight ahead and a heart looking sideways. Whether or not you’re allowed to feel that way, he knows, and you can’t take it back.

All that greets you on the other side of the line is silence. The receiver gives you nothing other than the shuffling of some clothes, and you hear keys jangling before a door is unlocked.

Wait. Does he just have keys to the house party? Or is the party at his place?

Why isn’t Yoongi hanging up?

“Probably shouldn’t say this, either.”

And you hold every bit of your breath back as you hear a door close.

“But I miss you, too.”

Butterflies spring into the far reaches of your chest, lifting you from the bed and into the blanket of stars above you. You almost think you misheard him, and with eyes wide you respond, “You do?”

“Yeah.”

Your breaths are shallow as you try to calm yourself, failing miserably and hilariously. “I… guess I just didn’t expect that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, it seemed like you were avoi—Oh.”

Oh.

Everything makes sense now. All those thoughts burdening your mind suddenly fade, leaving you free to feel the same things that you did before. The saying about absence comes to your mind, but in this case, it’s Yoongi’s consideration that makes you fonder than ever.

That, and the fact that he’s a complete idiot. You both are.

You hear the smallest huff on the line, and you just know that he’s smiling. Hot all over, you clear your throat before deflecting, something you do best in his overwhelming presence. “I thought you would’ve forgotten me already, honestly.”

“The fuck? You showed up at my door and told me to fuck you. Kinda hard to forget that.”

“Yoongi!” You panic, hoping no one around him heard him lest they figure out who he’s talking to. “Can’t people hear you?”

A soft laugh tickles your ear.

“Relax. I’m home.”

Stunned, you furrow your brows while feeling a bit too attracted to him in the moment. Didn’t he say he was going back to the party? “Why home?”

“Just felt like it, I guess.”

“You’re an old man now, that’s why.”

“Good night.”

“No, no!” Laughs bubble from your sore throat, your mind still on a high from him admitting that he misses you, and the air clearing between the both of you now. Holy fuck, you can breathe so much easier even though you’re sick. Incredible how that even works. “I’m teasing.”

You’re about to tell Yoongi that he’s in fact not an old man when you hear clothes being stripped, and you salivate immediately wondering what he must look like now. Because yes, you can feel these things. You’re allowing yourself to.

“You might be right, though. I’m tired already, shit.”

“Ah, okay,” you murmur through the speaker, slightly deflated because that means the call has to end. Trying not to sound disappointed, you offer, “I’ll let you go then.”

You hear some activity coming from his end, random sounds muffled by static. Awaiting an answer or at least to see if he heard, you simply listen and wonder what he could be up to.

Is he changing? Finding something to eat? Getting ready for bed? You don’t know why, but the image of Yoongi brushing his teeth while on the verge of sleep makes you laugh.

“What.”

Oops. “Nothing,” you respond, mischief spread across your voice. “I just said I’d let you go.”

“Oh, okay. How is he now?”

“Umm, lemme check, one sec.” You reluctantly leave your covers and venture to your brother’s room, leaving your phone nestled by your pillow.

Once you see the log is just fast asleep, you go back to your room, touched at how caring Yoongi really is. Goddamn, between everything he’s been doing lately, your heart keeps fluttering so much that you can’t believe it didn’t work for months.

Sliding back under your covers, you pick your device up and lovingly cradle it next to your ear. “He’s fine.”

You hear what sounds like a tiny snort before amusement fizzles into your receiver,

“Did you leave your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought so. Almost thought I got hung up on.”

“You wanna be?”

More huffs of laughter.

“That’d be hot.”

“How? You’re so weird.”

For some godforsaken reason—the sickness you still have, the giddiness you feel, the unbelievable fact that you’re still on the phone with him right now—you make a split second decision.

And you do hang up.

It all happens so fast that you’re staring down at your phone, blinking once twice five times before realizing what you did. And the dread of that being the last of your conversation with him shoots through your limbs so fast that you start to outright sweat.

Why the fuck!

Do you call him back?

You fucked up.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Flatlining. You feel your heart giving out, beating its last pulse. It was inevitable. Wincing, you answer and have no idea what to expect.

“I’m impressed.”

Burying your head, you berate yourself for going through all these massive emotions while he’s still as chill as ever on the other end of the line. Finally putting Yoongi on speaker, you hope he can still hear you while you’re completely face down. “I can't believe I did that.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never done that before!”

“Hung up on someone?”

You shift your head so that only one eye peeks out. “I don’t think so. At least, not like that. Sorry.”

“You kidding? If he wasn’t there I would’ve gotten back in my car.”

Back in his car? To do— Oh. You’re back to face planting. “…Really?”

“Dead serious.”

Pure frustration blows from your mouth, heating up your entire face as it spreads through your pillowcase. You hate how your circumstances don’t allow much of anything to happen between you and Yoongi. So many things could have been different if your situation was something else. Why did things have to be this way?

You sum up your irritation in two syllables. “This sucks.”

“I know.”

Turning onto your back, you cover your eyes with a hand. “That day after I stayed at your place… Fuck, I wish I knew about the whole boyfriend thing.”

“Hey, don’t.”

“Yoongi, I’ve been wondering what happened for months. I thought… And just… This whole time you thought I was off-limits.”

A low laugh precedes the next statement, his voice deep and rueful even through a tinny speaker.

“You’re off-limits either way, doll.”

“I know.” You sigh before repeating yourself, emotions seeping out of your tired and sore body. It’s all so damn infuriating, and regrets keep weighing you down. Throwing any sort of caution to the wind, you ask without hesitation, “What would you do? If I wasn’t?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a moment of quiet on the line. Just the persisting hum and fizz of static. But then you hear movement. What is he doing? God, you wish you were there.

“Well. If you’re talking about tonight, I would’ve taken you with me. To the party.”

“Oh.”

“But honestly, we wouldn’t’ve made it there anyway.”

Your breath hitches. “..Oh…”

“And if you’re talking about in general. We wouldn’t be doing this on the phone.”

Shudders take over your body, and you cannot blame your sickness on any of them. It’s quite ridiculous how Yoongi’s able to make you feel this way with just his voice. You’ve never wanted to run somewhere so fast in your entire life. “What, umm”—you clear your throat—“And just what would we be doing?”

“We’d already be fucking, babe.”

Your breath comes out in a rush, and you don’t even think about hiding it this time. “Fuck,” you whisper, rubbing your legs together at a torturous pace. “I think about that all the time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Admissions fly out of your mouth, your body constantly shifting under your covers and your panties getting more wet by the second. “The amount of times I’ve thought about going over there… Yeah. But I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“You wouldn’t bother me at all.”

“I guess I just. Didn’t think your offers were real, you know?”

“They all were.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“What’s done is done. Don’t worry about that.”

You rub your forehead again before thumping your arm down, staring up at the ceiling and vowing revenge in your next life for whomever made you off-limits to this man. Why did things have to be this way? Why does your brother have to be the way he is?

Is it because you’re all he has? You can chalk up his overprotectiveness to your environment, but it could be much worse. And besides, he has to leave for work sometimes, so it’s not like…

Wait. You remember him mentioning something a couple days ago over breakfast. Something that has your heart beating slow and fast all at once.

It didn’t mean much at the time. But now? Your breaths are already quickening as you think of the millions of possibilities that can stem from this if Yoongi somehow lets anything happen.

“My brother… He has a work trip coming up.”

His answer is immediate.

“I know.”

Your thighs slide against each other as you fidget, and your teeth find your bottom lip. All you have to do is say one more thing. Just one. One more stupid sentence to end all this suffering. Say it! Why can’t you speak?

“What’s on your mind, doll.”

Fuck.

“If you don’t tell me I’ll never know.”

Double fuck.

Psyching yourself up, you squeeze your eyes shut, your statement coming out in a whisper,

“I’ll bring the tangerines.”

“That’s my girl.”

And you cough twice when your anticipation gets caught in your throat. On the other line, you are very sure you’re getting laughed at before you hear him send you off through a grin.

“See you then. Amateur.”

tbc. :)

A/N: i told you to wait until the end! LOL anyways.. the next part is.. already getting worked on and i’m already gone - just so you all know lol. and if you’re new to the 3tan fam, hello! happy to have you on this journey and i hope you enjoy this couple pairing as much as i do🥺 lastly, happy two months to three tangerines! i can’t believe it’s only been that long.. ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist ++ oh, yeah... next up: the weekend >:)

#bts fic #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi angst #bangtanbathhouse #houseofddaeng #dailydaegu #yoongi x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #yoongi smut #blacklist tag for fics:#*ryenfictalk #ryenwrites #*latest #3tan3 #yoongi fanfic #i hope you all enjoy!!

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jimilter · 3 years

Text

ain’t real cherry | p.jm. | one-shot (m)

🎧 candy by doja cat come my way by plvtinum

pairing: jimin x reader (ft. taehyung)

rating: m (18+)

summary: Not to be too sickeningly romantic, but his wank bank needed a desperate overhaul if he was ever going to stop being pathetic. He was done envisioning his roommate in positions he would never actually get to see her in.

And maybe, just maybe, this exercise would get him back in the game and he would actually be able to fuck people without your face in his head to push him over the edge, every single time.

warnings: swearing + unresolved (?) sexual tension + nude photos + vivid descriptions of curvaceous female bodies + careless objectification of said bodies by horny college students + mentions of masturbation + heavy making out + sexual situations (oral (m+f), penetrative sex, dirty talk, softdom!jimin, switch!reader, choking, manhandling, rough sex, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, overstimulation, marking) + unrequited (?) lustful (?) pining [citation needed] + fuckboy tae with a dick for brain + unintended allusions to Ryan Reynolds’ dick + mentions of blue beanbags + mentions of erect dingalings + explicit conversations featuring dingalings + i realize these are getting progressively more ridiculous so ima stop

word count: 24.2 k

note: IT’S FINALLY HERE! so this was the result of me obsessively listening to doja cat’s candy and daydreaming about jimin. i wanted to make a pwp-ish drabble out of this concept, but yet again, i kept adding backstory and it was nearing 5k words by the time things actually started to get heated up for real, so i decided to actually add more depth and plot to it, and — here we are, at more than three times the initially planned wordcount. i’ve been slaving since the beginning of june. why am i like this??? 😩😭

it’s really more than 15k words of pure filth, proceed with caution!

a few honorable mentions in the form of @getmemyfries who constantly helped me push through and finish this up. ily bby. 🥺💕 @ressjeon @sugasbabiie & @jamaisjoons for helping me out in the BS server when i was stuck! i appreciate y’all loadsss! 🥰❤

annnywayyy, hope y’all like this one, while i go work on the jk birthday fic before going back to the youth series. much love~ 🥺💜

↦ CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

— masterlist

— feedback is always appreciated!

Late at night, do the things to him, mean that guy who Need someone who's sweet enough, who'll shoot to make that high note~

Park Jimin was having a surprisingly nice Wednesday. And you were the reason why.

The fact was surprising, because Wednesdays were one of the three days that housed the most despicable compulsory classes he'd ever sat in his life, Cognitive Psychology 101. He honestly still didn't get why he, a finance major, was forced through this torture – what was up with this university and its combinations, he didn't know. But since he had to endure it, he braved the class with a grimace and slumping on the very last row of seats in the lecture hall with Taehyung.

“You look happy today,” the guy in question mumbled around the lollipop in his mouth.

Jimin gave him a small grin, shrugging. “I just have these positive vibes going around my head this morning.”

Your words from this morning, aka, said positive vibes, still echoed in his head.

There’s this… guy I’ve kinda been thinking about. I’m, like, ready to put out if he’d take it, but I feel like I might be out of his league…

Jimin had wanted to hold you by your shoulders and tell you that no guy in the world—least of all on this campus—could ever be out of your league when you were Aphrodite, Persephone and Hera all rolled into one sexy as fuck human body. But he had refrained, only scoffing in disbelief and asking you to shoot your shot like the confident goddess you were—okay, he might not have refrained that well—while secretly hoping you’d jump him at the end of his encouraging speech.

And even though that didn’t happen, Jimin still wasn’t completely hopeless.

“Vibe—what now? Positive? Head?” Taehyung looked at him in confusion, basic human language seemingly too complicated for him due to all the sex related jargon that filled his brain at all times. He suddenly leered, proving Jimin right. “Oh, wait! Is that a euphemism for morning head?”

Jimin choked on his next inhale, violently coughing as he shook his head, partially to negate what Taehyung said but partially to get rid of the sudden mental image of you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his—

Sweet mother of Jesus!

Taehyung simply shrugged at Jimin’s tiny meltdown and went back to his phone. He was simple like that, and Jimin kinda preferred it that way. Mostly.

Taehyung, much like Jimin, wasn't too fond of these classes. He had seemed like a chill person to Jimin when the dark haired guy first sat next to him, easy to get along with and talk to in order to pass time in class. But as three weeks had gone by and Jimin had had occasional hangouts with the guy outside of class, he had realised that Taehyung wasn't much fond of anything to do with education, in general. He was a performing arts student majoring in music and unnecessarily dipping his head in a couple of culture related subjects, when all he seemed to care about was working his vocal chords, grades be damned.

That, along with the fact that Taehyung was a notorious fuckboy. If he wasn't lewdly ogling someone in class, he was sexting someone. Or looking at nudes. Or sifting through his contact list full of girls to look for someone to spend the night with.

Multiple times through the span of the weeks they’d sat together, he had encouraged Jimin to join in with him in one of the aforementioned activities to pass time in class. But Jimin had refused the offer. And not because he was a saint himself, not in the least. Jimin had had a filling and frivolous sexual life through high school and upped his game with trying new things through his freshman year in college — trying out every sex position possible, getting in bed with multiple partners at the same time, hooking up in the oddest of places, having sex with two brothers one after another, to name a couple stunts.

But ever since his second year in college started and his previous roommate graduated and moved out to make space for you, things had started to change for Jimin.

You had entered his life as a temporary roommate, claiming plans of only lodging with him for a few weeks until you found yourself a sorority that would take you in. But a few weeks had changed into a few months, and then a few semesters — and now you’d been living with him for over a year, with your sorority plans tossed in a dumpster when you failed an exam and lost the eligibility.

Somewhere in between, Jimin had developed the most gigantic crush of his life on you.

And, yes, it was the biggest cliche trope in the world to crush on your roommate, but he couldn’t help it, okay? You were sexy, gorgeous, witty, really caring when you needed to be, sexy, at the top of each one of your classes, made the best fried rice he had ever tasted and could hold your liquor almost better than Jimin could. Did he mention you were also impossibly sexy? Because you really really were. He’d never been one to objectify women, but damn did he want you to suffocate him with those thighs of yours. So with all of that, how could he not be completely infatuated with you?

Hence, he really was. And slowly but surely, his sleeping around had stopped as a result of said infatuation. He had found himself quickly turning into a pervert and an asshole of a huge degree when he noticed he had started to prefer fucking girls from behind so that he didn’t see their faces, and, well…could imagine yours in its place. He’d forgone getting it on with guys as a whole, because he couldn’t pretend with them. So yeah, he had decided he was better off jerking off in the confines of his room with your thoughts in his head. Better just a pervert than a perv and an asshole, right?

You, though, were none the wiser about his developed feelings and still went around hooking up with and dating guys. Jimin didn’t really mind – he wasn’t in love with you by any means – until you didn’t bring back guys to your apartment, which you thankfully never did. It definitely hurt a bit, yeah, but it was his own fault for not telling you how he felt. Maybe you’d go easier on him and not loudly reiterate details of your sexual encounters and bad first dates to him over your shared meals. Maybe you’d confess to reciprocated attraction and actually fuck him. But, at the same time, maybe you would find it to be a breach of your trust on him and decide to move out and cut all ties with him forever. And therein was the reason why he hadn’t told you.

Something had been different as of late, though.

You hadn’t slept with a single guy since the start of this term, and the last date you’d been on had been before the summers. At least from what you told him. But then, why would you lie when your usual breakfast conversation with Jimin consisted of descriptions of what some random one night stand from months ago had done with his tongue and how you hadn’t yet found someone who came close to replicating that?

Jimin had desperately wanted to volunteer himself, on an embarrassingly large number of occasions, but he had held back. At the end of the day, you were also one of the closest friends he had and he really didn’t wanna lose you because of sex.

Now, though, he was getting ideas.

Was there a reason why you hadn’t been on a date in months and had refrained from sleeping around?

That, when put together with your conversation from this morning, was making Jimin think things.

Now, of course, you could be talking about literally anybody in the world because you’d given him no specifics. Hell, you could be talking about Ryan Reynolds, and he wouldn’t know! You hadn’t even specified if you even knew this guy personally, least of all if you were friends, or something.

But Jimin was still brimming with hope, because there was still a chance you could have been talking about him.

Jimin sighed to himself at the wishful thought.

The professor had started to drone about something to do with language ability and when the word “psycholinguistics” came up, Jimin decided it was time to tap out.

Taehyung sat manspreading next to him, intently focussed on his phone, not even trying to be subtle about not focussing on the class as he leant over the device. Jimin started a game of PAC-MAN on his laptop with an admirable straight face. His eyes met the professor’s by accident, though, but instead of freezing up and giving himself away, he gave the man a short nod with furrowed brows. His professor looked away after a satisfactory hum, and Jimin immediately moved to position his laptop between himself and the man’s line of sight properly, this time.

His own acting skills sometimes astounded him to the point where he thought of switching courses to Taehyung's bachelor’s.

He snorted at his thought, and caught said man's attention.

"What's so funny?" Taehyung asked with an amused grin, eyes still trained on his phone screen.

Jimin had just opened his mouth to respond when he saw Taehyung's grin change flavors. It became lecherous, all of a sudden, and when he licked his lips, Jimin averted his gaze with a grimace, mildly disturbed.

Was Taehyung sexting someone, right now? Jimin hoped the guy wouldn’t pop a boner in the middle of the class for the sake of his own eyes. Shuddering in revulsion at the thought, Jimin looked back at his computer.

“Gosh, those hips,” Taehyung mumbled under his breath, and Jimin froze.

So he was looking at nudes, then.

Rolling his eyes, Jimin had just started a new game when Taehyung tugged at his sleeve. “Look at this, Park, ugh, she’s so hot,” he mumbled, producing his phone before Jimin.

Jimin screwed his eyes shut, bringing his hand up to shield them, just to be safer. “Kim! Don’t show it to me! Someone sent it to you in confidence, don’t go around asking others to look!” he scolded Taehyung in a harsh whisper.

Taehyung clicked his tongue, moaning as if he was in actual pain. “Gosh, Jimin, I’d print these out and paste them on the walls of my bedroom if I could!”

Even though Jimin had detached himself from Taehyung’s grasp, his curiosity had peaked. But he still stared into his computer with a straight face, until the next set of words left Taehyung’s mouth.

“I’m seriously considering forwarding this to every single group chat I’m a part of so that people can tell me I’m not insane for wanting to lick my phone’s screen, man,” Taehyung nearly whined.

“Kim!” Jimin’s hand flew to grab Taehyung’s phone in alarm, and he snatched it away before the other guy could blink. “What the hell is going on with you today? Fucking around is one thing but compromising a girl’s trust and privacy is something else! Stop talking about spreading the pictures around!”

After his little tirade was done with, Taehyung rightfully looked somewhat chastised. But then he pushed his lower lip out in a pout. “It’s not even pictures, it’s just a picture. Only one. And that has me going insane.” He suddenly sucked in a sharp breath, and Jimin leant away, warily. “Imagine what it would be like to dig my hands into those shapely hips, that plump as fuck ass, God's above—oh! I’ll probably bite into the meat of her—”

“Yeah, okay, that’s enough erotica from you!” Jimin interrupted him, entire face scrunched up in a scowl as he rested Taehyung’s phone on the other side of his own laptop. He still didn't trust the guy to not shred someone’s privacy to pieces in his haze of lust. “Don't drool so hard, dude, come on. It’s 2021, she probably photoshopped some bits.”

Taehyung shook his head, eyes looking a bit blown out. “Trust me on this, Park, I can tell the difference between fake and real. And those stretch marks wrapping up delicately like a fucking vine around her hips? They’re as real as they come.”

Jimin swallowed, fighting against the visual of your thighs and the threading stripes of olive that ran along the sides of your knees. “I still think you’re overreacting a bit.”

Taehyung looked offended at that. “Well, you’re saying that because you haven’t seen it! Just — just take a goddamned look, Park, it’s right there and the screen isn’t even locked.”

Jimin inhaled through his mouth. “No. It’s wrong, and—”

“Jesus Christ, her face isn’t even in it!”

That gave Jimin a pause. His eyes darted to the device, and just as he’d registered the silhouette of a curvy, olive torso, he snapped his head back. “It's still immoral!”

“For the love of—fine, gimme my phone, I’ll text her and ask if it’s okay for you to see it, alright?” Taehyung hissed in his face, brows lowered in irritation. “Stop acting like a fucking priest, and look at the damn photo, Park!”

And before Jimin could react, Taehyung’s long-ass arms with his long-ass fingers had ripped the device off Jimin’s desk and shoved it in his face.

Jimin sucked in a breath. He had been having a surprisingly nice Wednesday, and his pessimistic ass was basically waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop. Maybe this would be it, this immoral leering—

“Holy fuck, those hips!” he exclaimed, wide eyes drinking up the female torso on the screen.

It was a picture taken in a mirror, with the girl standing facing to the side. It began right at the fullness of her breasts, capturing the taut peaks of her dark nipples and golden stretch lines near the lower curves of her full breasts. Her stomach was tight but had a soft curve below her navel, which then tapered into a shaved triangle of soft skin that disappeared into the juncture of her meaty thighs that she’d strategically crossed to hide her pussy from sight. But the main attention grabbing attraction were the wide, sloping, round hips that her trim waist tapered into. She had an hourglass figure, with the juiciest curve connecting her waist to her legs.

Jimin breathed out. It was a really artfully clicked picture, alluring to the point where Jimin felt his mouth water just staring at it.

“Do you get it now?” Taehyung sounded to be in pain, and Jimin could understand.

Yep, he got it now.

“It’s the first picture she’s sent that’s why she’s hidden the cooch, but honestly? I don’t even miss it right now,” Taehyung mumbled, now looking at the picture himself.

Jimin secretly agreed, not even needing to look at the picture to confirm anymore, now that he had it seared in his brain.

Out of nowhere, an image of you lounging on the sofa in an oversized shirt and little else as you watched the TV entered his thoughts.

He groaned at the mental image of your thighs and groaned further when his brain automatically pictured them wrapped around his waist as he drove into—

No!

Nobody’s driving nothing nowhere.

His eyes widened in panic when he felt his jeans tightening.

No. Nope. Think ugly thoughts! Think psychology – think fucking psycholinguistics! Think gross men! Taehyung! The psych professor! Taehyung's tongue! Taehyung's tongue on the psych professor's face!

Sufficiently calmed down, Jimin breathed easier when he felt himself wilt.

He bit down on his bottom lip, exhaling harshly in frustration. As if lusting on one temptress wasn't too fucking much to handle for his brain, now he had two.

And to think his Wednesday had been going good!

Jimin delayed getting back to his flat as much as he could, instead choosing to spend long hours in the library with his nose buried in a Napoleon Hill he'd been planning to read for a long time.

But his mind, the betraying fucker, completely refused to decipher the literature before him. It, instead, insistently played loops of imaginary scenarios featuring a delicious pair of curvaceous hips that made Jimin’s head hurt and pants tighten. And if he somehow battled his way out of those, it immediately switched to the image of your thighs, and Jimin honestly couldn’t decide what was worse.

He was embarrassed by it all, hating how he seemed to be unable to control all the horny thoughts in his mind like a thirteen year old who’d seen porn for the first time. He’d had his share of hot women—and men—in his bed, he should have been good at controlling himself from physically reacting to the thoughts of a sexy body. And he really had been, in the past. He couldn’t understand what the catch was, this time.

Maybe your words from this morning had caused more short circuits in his head than he had knowledge of.

In any case, he desperately didn't wanna face you when he was having such a hard time controlling himself. He had even considered going home with one of the girls on Taehyung’s list of potential booty calls to take the edge off. But the memories of the last few one night stands he’d had left him scarred. He did not wanna fuck another girl from behind and climax to the image of your face painted behind his eyelids.

He left the library at eight when it closed, avoiding the librarian’s shocked but curious gaze when she had to escort him out. He understood her completely, though. This was the first ever time he’d actually sat in this particular building on the campus in his more than two years of college, let alone stay till closing like a nerdy bookworm.

He trudged his way to the train station on heavy legs as he left the campus, earphones plugged in and some rap playlist playing some Eminem song to drown out the erotic images in his head.

The ride to his apartment was a really short one, and within fifteen minutes of leaving the library, he was climbing up the stairs to his first floor flat.

He switched off the distractingly good music as he unlocked the door. He was pleasantly surprised to find out his distraction had worked, when the sight of your side profile as you sat huddled up on the couch in a t-shirt and shorts with your hair in a bun atop your head didn’t cause any stirrings in his pants.

“Hey!” he greeted you, shutting and locking the door behind him as he moved to hang up his keys on his designated hook next to the door.

“You were out till late,” you mumbled, sulky face giving him a once over before you went back to stare at the TV.

Jimin’s heart skipped a beat. You could not be wearing this expression because he was late, could you?

He dared not hope.

Toeing off his shoes, he gave a shrug. “The weather was nice, out there. Kinda stayed and lounged around the gardens on campus,” he lied, knowing full well that you’d bombard him with a million questions if he told you he had uncharacteristically stayed at the library. “Lost track of time.”

You simply hummed in response, looking almost petulant as you crossed your arms against your chest with a pout. "I got some fried chicken on my way back, it's in the fridge," you spoke in pout. "Have some if you want."

"I will, in a while, yeah. Thanks." Jimin bit his lip to hold back an amused smile, endeared by your cuteness and welcoming the fucking change in his channel of thoughts. “What’s up with you, though, grumpy? You okay?” he asked you, walking up to his room to toss his belongings in.

“I’m not grumpy,” you called out very grumpily, and this time Jimin let a hearty laugh escape him. “Don’t lau~gh!” you whined.

Jimin quickly switched out his jeans for a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to shut his door when he knew you were seated facing the opposite side. He wouldn’t even mind if you did look, he was wearing his boxers, it won’t be that bad.

Was he…perhaps…hoping you would look?

Jimin cleared his throat to derail that train of thoughts before it could end up being a devastating trainwreck.

"Come on, what is it?" he asked again, walking towards the fridge to extract a bottle of water. "You get graded today, or something?"

You scoffed at that. "I'm above letting my grades dictate my mood, Park, you know that! Not that I have room to complain when I've never gotten anything less than perfect," you smugly said, shooting him a smirk over your shoulder.

He had to work very hard to not choke on the next sip of water he took. He quickly capped the bottle and put it back to avoid any further incidents. Why did you have to look so goddamn hot doing literally absolutely everything?

Jimin walked up to crash on the couch next to you, hooking a knee over the armrest and letting the other leg spread out towards the floor. One of his arms dangled off the back of the couch while he ran the other hand through his hair with a roll of his eyes. He purposely faced away from you.

"Sure, never – except that one time. Basically the only time it really mattered," Jimin teased, bringing up last year's fall semester.

"What?" You looked confused with a frown on your face.

Jimin chuckled. "Yeah, sure. As if you would ever forget failing that test. As if I didn't hear you lament about getting rejected from that one sorority for literal weeks."

"Oh!" you sounded genuinely surprised this time, and he chanced a curious glance.

Only to find you looking at the TV with a frown. Were you really that preoccupied? You couldn't possibly have actually forgotten, it was one of the biggest failures of your life. Or so you had said, back then.

"Yeah, but it's kinda good I got…y'know, rejected," you continued, lips morphing into a pout again and Jimin looked away. "I'm not even friends with Kira anymore, and she was why I wanted to join that srat in the first place.”

Jimin felt bummed. He was almost hoping you’d say it was good you got rejected because you found him. Like, not like that, but as friends. Because you guys were pretty good friends, and putting the sexual attraction aside—though it really was damn near impossible for him to even envision not being attracted to you—he was grateful you got rejected from that sorority because he cherished your company as a friend a lot.

You were a good listener, a fun drink buddy and, most importantly, you made some mean fried rice. It was the best he ever had, okay? It reminded him of his mother's cooking! He wasn't made of stone to not grow soft at that!

“Anyways! Grades are not the reason,” you said with an even more defined pout on your face.

Jimin gave a small hum, smiling fondly. “The reason for? Your grumpiness? So, you admit you’re being grumpy!”

You stuck your tongue out at him in response, and Jimin froze, fondness slipping from his mind as lust gripped at him.

The sight of your tiny, pink, glossy tongue nearly made his vision go blurry with the blood rush that took place in him. His sweatpants could not have been doing a good job of hiding his erection, but he could not be bothered to think past the images flooding him.

A kaleidoscope of carnality burst open in his head, every single one of the pieces featuring your tongue smoothing over a different part of his body – flicking over his nipple, licking down his neck, diving between his abs, dipping into his navel… tangling up with his own… wrapping around the tip of his—

“Jimin?”

He blinked, snapping his involuntarily gaping mouth shut with a clack. He could only imagine how starved his eyes must have looked, going by the desperate longing that seared through him. He was very nearly salivating over you, sitting one foot away from you! And he was painfully hard.

He had also, very inconveniently, not heard a word of what you just said.

Covertly lowering his leg from the handrest to loosen up some of the fabric of his sweatpants over his crotch, Jimin shook his head to physically dissipate the daze fuzzing up his head.

Fucking hell, he was way too much sexually pent up!

“Sorry, sorry, I zoned out,” he mumbled in apology, pulling his gaze off your frowning face to look at the TV. You were watching some American sitcom he knew nothing about. He focussed on a bald, skinny guy that was poking his nose and willed his arousal to calm down. “You were saying?”

“Can you please stop daydreaming when I’m in a crisis?” you grumbled.

Jimin nearly scoffed. If only it were that easy to control his head. He was nearly in a crisis, too, at this point. His eyebrows suddenly rose when it registered. “Wait, crisis? What happened?”

“Um… you remember the guy I told you about? This morning?” you sounded nervous, and his heartbeat picked up.

Oh, he remembered, alright.

Jimin’s throat bobbed with a dry click.

“Uh huh?” he managed to mumble, bracing himself.

"I think he's got a nice dick."

Jimin wasn't even drinking water, he choked on fucking air.

Your concerned voice said something, but Jimin couldn't hear you over his hacking coughs and the pulse pounding loudly in his ears.

What the fuck did you just say?

What?

WHAT?

"Jimin!"

He dry-heaved, wiping at his watering eyes when he could finally breathe easily. "I'm sorry… I was… I just…" he panted between long, drawn out breaths.

You looked concerned and confused. "Are you okay? You're being weird. Did something happen at college?"

Jimin vehemently shook his head. "I had psych today, my mind’s just in a bad space."

You pursed your lips, seemingly not believing him, but thankfully let it go.

So you thought your mystery guy had a nice dick.

Jimin's spirits fizzled away like froth. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him, because you didn't know what his dick looked like.

Well, not unless you'd been a pervert and peeked. Which he really didn't believe you had done or would ever do.

But then again, you said you "thought" the guy's dick was nice. Implying, you could very well be using your imagination and fantasizing.

You could still, hypothetically, be talking about Ryan Reynolds.

He needed more information.

He cleared his throat, this time bracing himself for any more bombshells you could possibly drop on him. He breathed through his nose and vowed to not gasp no matter what came out of your mouth in response to his question.

"So… his dick, huh?" he asked, trying to be as casual as he could be, putting a curved index finger in front of his lips as he stared at the TV. He could’ve been asking about the weather, given the casual aura he eluded. "Did you, uh, see it?"

He sensed you shrug in his periphery. "Not really. Just the outline. The bulge, if you may. And it looked so good, Jimin," you nearly moaned and he nearly became hard again.

Because—

Fuck.

You had seen a bulge.

It could very well have been his bulge.

In fact, there was a very, very high possibility that it was his bulge, given how careless he'd recently been about stripping down to his boxers where you could see him. Like, subtly, of course, but still. He left his room's door open when he changed, these days. You were in your room, and if not, sat with your back to his room and your eyes glued to the TV screen, the way you had been this evening. But you could very easily look if you tried.

You could really have seen his bulge.

And thought that it looked nice.

So much so, that you considered yourself to be in a crisis right now, just thinking about it.

His breath hitched. Was he dreaming?

A voice from the back of his mind suddenly slid to the forefront:

You could also, just as plausibly, be talking about Ryan Reynolds' dick!

Jimin swore to himself under his breath.

You really could still be talking about literally anybody because guys tended to be casual about their semis. Pair that up with tightly fitted jeans or thin clothed sweatpants, and the result would be what you saw: a dick's outline. Celebrities were sometimes photographed that way, too.

"Why're you distressed, hun?" he quizzed further, hoping you wouldn't catch the lower octave his disappointed voice had taken.

“I just…I wanna suck it. His cock."

"What the—" Jimin broke off, remembering his plans of breathing through the nose and not gasping.

"What?" you irritably threw a scowl his way. "Don't be a prude, you've heard worse from me."

Jimin nodded with a grimace. He indeed, very painfully, had. "I, uh…" He paused to clear his throat. "Why's — why's that a crisis?"

You looked at him as if he was stupid. Which he really, really was, but probably not for the reasons you thought. "Jimin! How am I supposed to ask a guy to suck his dick when I haven't even seen his dick? That'd be so slutty!"

Jimin licked his lips, his eyes zeroing in on your plump ones. Yep, he could totally picture it and it looked more than slutty — it looked obscene and depraved and filthy and sexy as fuck.

He harshly exhaled through his mouth. Why was he being tested like this? What had he ever done to deserve this torture? Did some previous jaded lover of his do some black magic on him? Or worse yet, did some previous jaded lover of his put you up to this task of teasing and torturing him to the brink of insanity?

Jimin pulled his lower lip into his mouth. "Don't judge." He let go of his lip with a pop, his voice coming out borderline raspy. His eyes wandered away from you when he figured he would probably command you to look at him with his next words. "Some guys like it slutty. Maybe your – maybe yours would be into it."

God knew Jimin was. So, so super into it.

You hummed, thoughtfully. "You don't think it'd turn him off?"

"Not in the least," Jimin murmured, gaze snapped back to yours, lips parting as he gulped a heavy breath in. You were looking away in thought. "I think it'd drive him insane."

"So, what? I just – tell him?"

"Depends," Jimin throatily responded, a complete goner now with his semi-erect cock marking a wet spot against his sweatpants, and visions of your thighs wrapped around his waist running free in his head, now that he didn't try to rein them in, anymore. "If he's someone that likes to be told, you do that. But if he's someone who likes to tell," Jimin paused, waiting for you to connect your clueless eyes with his, "you ask him."

Your lips parted and eyes widened. "You – you mean, like, seek permission? To suck his cock? What kind of a guy would ever say no to that?"

A cocky smirk ticked up Jimin's cheek. "The kind that doesn't feel you deserve it."

He saw it – the momentary glaze that cast over your eyes – it wasn't a trick of the light from the TV, your pupils had actually, really expanded.

But then you blinked and your nose wrinkled up. "You're into some kinky dom shit, aren't you, Park?"

And just like that, the trance broke and Jimin floated back to earth. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, well aware of the pink climbing up his cheeks.

He forced a roll of his eyes. "Just ask him, you little shit," he muttered, crossly. "It's just as you said, no guy would reject a proffered blowjob."

He almost hoped you would ask him.

Almost.

He kept observing you from the corner of his eye as you kept worrying your bottom lip, gaze hung on some invisible point in space. And then you started to nod, looking resolute as you raised your head to meet his eyes.

His heart stopped when you opened your mouth to speak.

“Okay. Uh, yeah, I’ll ask him. Yep, that’s—that’s a great idea. Thanks, Jimin,” you mumbled in a rush, looking somewhat out of it, probably because you were picturing asking the guy.

And just like that, Jimin sank into himself.

He gave you a brittle smile as you nodded at him. “No problem. Always happy to help,” he said, the words acerbic in his mouth.

You proceeded to get up from the couch. “Alright then, I’m off to sleep. Got a seven am class tomorrow,” you told him, but his helpless eyes were stuck to the strip of your golden skin visible above your shorts as your shirt rose – a hint of your gorgeous butterfly tattoo peeked out, taunting him.

He wanted to trace its royal blue wings with his tongue. Jimin licked his lips, gaze gliding past your plump ass to land on your thighs. He drank them up while you stretched, trying hard and failing at his attempts to not imagine his teeth digging into the softness of your skin as you writhed underneath him.

“Good night, Chim.”

At his nickname, Jimin swapped his eyes up to meet yours. You were already looking at him, but he found no annoyance or even suspicion in them. Had you not noticed him eye-fucking you? His brows furrowed a bit.

“Yeah, good night,” he mumbled, shutting his eyes to the view of your jiggling butt as you walked away.

Jimin released a deep sigh.

Even after a whole year of him making eyes at you, you were interested in sucking other dicks. Why was he even bothering anymore?

He was gonna forget all about your thighs and your ass when he looked at the most deliciously curvaceous pair of hips he’d ever seen, again, tomorrow, he promised himself. He would ogle them lewdly, drink his fill. He would replace every lustful desire he ever had for you by directing it towards someone else. He would.

But tonight, he would have to be the weaker man one last time and soothe his day-long blue balls by the aid of his fantasies of your naked body in his arms.

God, he was pathetic.

Taehyung's sexting with the Curvaceous Goddess from yesterday morning had progressed drastically. The guy could barely speak over the drool in his mouth.

"She's sent me multiple shots of those hips, man," Taehyung mumbled with a barely held back moan as Jimin made his way out of the psych class with him. "And a couple of her boobs. Gotta admit, though, I didn't pay that much attention to them. But her nipples look really biteable. Do you wanna see?”

Jimin very reluctantly shook his head. He was barely able to handle himself with the one picture he’d seen. Anymore, and he’d been walking around the college building with an erection.

Taehyung shrugged. “Your call. Hey, maybe I should ask her for some close-ups of those areolas! I gotta…" trailing off in a mumble, Taehyung started to furiously type on his phone.

Staying true to the promise he made to himself, Jimin had dutifully spent the entirety of the class staring at the woman's picture from yesterday – saving her gorgeous body's every texture, every blemish and every beauty mark to his memory. So that it'd be this body that came to his mind when he tightened his fist over himself in the middle of the night.

Not to be too sickeningly romantic, but his wank bank needed a desperate overhaul if he was ever going to stop being pathetic. He was done envisioning his roommate in positions he would never actually get to see her in. Or, at least, he should have been done. He was sure as hell gonna work on it, though.

And maybe, just maybe, this exercise would get him back in the game and he would actually be able to fuck people without your face in his head to push him over the edge.

"She says she'd send her ass when she gets back from class, today!" Taehyung suddenly exclaimed, waving the chat screen of his phone in front of Jimin's face. "Wow, dude, this girl is something else."

Jimin gave a small rise to his brows at Taehyung's lovestruck eyes. The dude literally fell in love every week, it wouldn't be a surprise if he felt he'd fallen again. Even when he hadn't seen the girl's face, yet alone actually met her in person.

"Show me, too, when you get it."

Taehyung shot him a grin. "See, that's the kind of stuff I like hearing from you, Park! We're young, we're warm blooded – the world expects us to be perverted. We're literally being disappointments by showing morals."

Jimin had to laugh at that, choosing to see the words in a humorous light instead of beginning to correct them. 'Cause where to even start? And knowing how much he did of Taehyung, the guy most definitely believed in his flawed logic, wholeheartedly.

"So, where to, next?"

Jimin hummed. "I got Econometrics in half an hour. Probably gonna crash in the cafeteria. You?"

Taehyung looked lost in thoughts, looking straight up ahead. Jimin knocked shoulders with him to grab the guy’s attention, causing Taehyung to look at him with a start. "Uh? Oh! I was actually thinking I'd pay her a visit. I've got Music Theory in three hours. Much time to spare."

Jimin's jaw dropped open. "You – you're gonna visit her? You don't even know her name, dude! Or what she looks like!"

Taehyung blinked, very slowly, before letting a smirk curl up his face. He raised an eyebrow. "And she doesn't know any of that about me, either. But… I wasn't actually talking about her, Park."

Jimin gawped. "What? But you—"

"I was talking about her," Taehyung emphasized with a finger pointing at a girl standing a few feet away from them, eyeing Taehyung with her tongue flicking her lips.

Jimin blanched. Oh fuck, this was embarrassing.

"Although," Taehyung continued because the subtle humiliation had apparently not been enough, "I do see what goes on in your head, Park. Despite your strict moral code."

Jimin rolled his eyes. "We were just talking about her, dude, come on."

"Uh huh. That is exactly why you sounded so panicked and jealous, too, right?"

This time, Jimin scoffed. "I was certainly not jealous. Or panicked. I was taken aback."

Taehyung laughed. "Sure, buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night. Or, stay awake at night, in this case."

Jimin was left fuming as Taehyung made his way over to the girl he’d actually been talking about. He had to admit, he did feel somewhat foolish. It wasn’t like him to zone out so badly, or not be able to catch the context of a conversation like this, or not be aware of his surroundings. He’d always been remarkably sharp at it, in fact. And if his brain hadn’t been all jumbled since last night, he still would’ve been.

With a silent curse aimed at himself, Jimin stuffed his hands into the pockets of his dark pants and started walking towards the cafeteria.

If all boiled down to it, it wasn’t even his fault that he was so lost. It was yours.

Jimin grimaced when last night’s events floated up to the forefront of his brain. He really did not need a reminder to feel worse about his situation with you. For a few moments, today, he’d even wondered if it would be better for you two to stop living together. But he would never in a million years kick you out, and he himself was way too selfish to willingly leave your shared living spaces.

Stepping into the cafeteria, he beelined for the counter. Ordering himself a mocha and a puff pastry, he pulled his phone out.

Only for his brows to jump when he discovered two unread messages from you.

roomie🌸💗 anthro proff failed to show up yAY ME going back home

Jimin rolled his lower lip between his teeth. Why were you being a good friend when he wanted to avoid you? You were making everything hard in his life – figuratively and literally.

With a snort at his own joke, he sent back a string of emojis and shoved his phone back into his pocket.

In the middle of his coffee and snack, he let his mind be plagued by the images of Taehyung’s nudes girl.

Ew. He needed to refer to her with something better, because that was a huge turn off, right there.

Jimin suddenly realised that this could turn into a problem if Taehyung actually ended up pursuing something more than a one night stand with the girl. Because, after all, the girl was sending nudes to obviously pursue something with Taehyung. Jimin probably should not be worrying all that much because Taehyung wasn’t even the last guy he would picture getting into a relationship in the middle of Junior year.

But this whole switching-my-lust thing he was doing was still not very healthy, was it? No, it wasn’t.

Jimin realised that it was a borderline toxic coping mechanism. He needed closure to get over the unfortunate crush/obsession/infatuation he had on/of/with you. Replacing one obsession with another was counterproductivity at its best. But he really couldn't afford any closures, no matter what. The whole reason why he was so stuck was that he couldn’t risk your friendship with him because his hormones were out of control. Telling you to get over would defeat the whole purpose of getting over you.

So he had to make do with his next best option – making his dumb mind realise that there were other things to get turned on by than your thighs. Even if it ended up being slightly destructive. But it couldn’t really be that bad when he hadn’t even seen this girl’s face, right?

Probably not, but he didn’t care all that much.

Just as he’d gotten up to toss his empty cup and paper plate into the bin, his phone pinged with a message. Wondering—and somewhat hoping, like the pathetic idiot he was—if you were, uncharacteristically, informing him that you’d reached your flat, he quickly pulled the device out of his pocket.

By the time he unlocked it, three more successive messages had arrived in his inbox.

All of them were from Taehyung.

kim from psych ITS HEREEEE COME TO TJE PARKIMG LOT HOLY FUCKLKLKKK JIMINNNMM SJE HAS A TATTOO ASDFKKHHGDHSJ HURTY THE FUVK UP IMA START JACKIJG OFF SOOM

Jimin cursed under his breath, grabbing his backpack to rush out of the cafeteria.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest as he jogged down to the parking lot. He was gonna miss his class – and Econometrics was one of the important subjects – but he honestly couldn’t be bothered, right now.

He was slightly out of breath by the time he reached Taehyung.

The guy really did look like he was minutes away from unzipping his pants right there, sitting on the hood of what was probably his own car. Huffing out a small laugh, Jimin walked up to him.

“So,” Jimin said as a means of greeting. “That good, huh?”

Taehyung’s trousers were very obviously tented, and despite the grossness, Jimin couldn’t judge him. He’d nearly had a similar reaction to the girl’s hips. He could sympathize with the guy.

“Kim?” Jimin called out with a laugh, making Taehyung startledly look up from his phone with his pupils swallowing nearly the entirety of his irises. “Holy shit, don’t come in your pants, dude!”

Taehyung released a pained groan, face contorting as if he was in actual, physical pain. Going by the condition of his crotch, he might actually have been. “Park,” he nearly moaned, “she told me to video call.”

Jimin's eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, dude. Congrats… I guess?”

Taehyung bit his lip, finally repositioning himself to make his erection slightly more covert. “I'm not ready, dude.”

Jimin cocked a single brow. “Evidence says you’re more than ready, Tae. Um, on that account,” he hesitantly began, almost not wanting to but knowing his inner moral compass would keep him awake through multiple nights on end if he didn’t. “You don’t have to show me the picture if things are, um, progressing between you guys. It’d be mo—”

“Don’t you fucking say morally wrong, you ass. I’m trying to fuck her, not marry her. You can even have a go after—” He suddenly cut himself off, frowning down at his crotch. “Awh, man, there goes my boner! Why’d you have to make me talk about relationships?”

JImin stifled a laugh. Taehyung was the poster child for college fuckboys, it seemed. Not that he didn’t know the fact beforehand, it was just hilarious and more than a little awakening to see him go through it, up close. “Um, sorry?”

“Just look at the fucking picture, Park!” Taehyung snarled, shoving his phone in Jimin’s unprepared hands.

Juggling a bit to catch the device before it could drop, Jimin had barely held the phone with the screen facing him, when—

He froze.

His breath halted and his heart skipped a couple of beats.

Everything around him came to an immediate, screeching stop.

He didn’t even have the time to ogle the glorious twin globes separated by a thin strip of burgundy red running down the middle, because his attention was caught by—

Holy fuck, he was so so so royally fucked, thoroughly, in every single orifice in his body.

There, in the smack dab center of the screen, right above the barely there string of the red thong running across the luscious hips he’d fallen in love with in just a day — there sat his undoing.

A bright, royal blue and black butterfly tattoo.

The butterfly tattoo he’d been peeking at for a year now.

Your butterfly tattoo.

Holy fuck.

HOLY! FUCK!

“See?” Taehyung’s whiny voice pulled him out of the despairing pool of absolute shock, blinding lust and utter agony he was spiraling into. “I can’t, man, I really can’t. If this is what her pictures do to me, oh God, the video call’s gonna kill me. And I can’t fucking wait to die a sated man!”

Taehyung’s words suddenly poured a bucket of iced water over Jimin, making him bodily jolt out of the remainder of his stupor.

The reality of the situation suddenly hit him – you’d been sending your nude pictures to Kim Taehyung. You were about to have a video chat with him. You intended to fuck him. Taehyung. Kim motherfucking Taehyung.

Oh no. Not on Jimin’s watch.

Molten jealousy filled up all his veins as he saw Taehyung getting comfortable in the backseat of his car with all the tinted glass windows. This fucker.

Uncaring how barbaric it made him out to be, Jimin decided he was not gonna let Taehyung actually see you on video before he’d at least had the chance to confront you about this whole thing. From what he knew of you and how much he understood, you weren’t the kind of girl to fall into the traps of the biggest fuckboy on our campus. There had to have been a major reason behind these actions of yours.

He had to talk to you — if not as someone who wanted to be the one to fuck you instead of Taehyung, then at least a friend and a well wisher who was worried about your well-being and emotional health.

“You can’t call her, Kim,” Jimin declared with a calm finality.

Taehyung did a double take. “Wh—did you say can’t? What? Why the fuck?”

“You just… shouldn’t. It’s not fair to her.” Jimin was really on the verge of a mental freak out.

“What the fuck, dude?” Taehyung looked irritated and more than a little indignant. “Fair to her? Who’re you, her caretaker all of a sudden? She literally asked for it!”

Jimin pursed his lips, swinging the phone out of his reach when Taehyung made to grab it. “You should tell her you showed me her pictures before you call her.”

“Dude! No, the fuck? Stop being a moral fucker! Is this girl your sister? Your girlfriend?” Taehyung looked a bit lost at Jimin’s sudden distress.

Jimin frowned. “No, none of those, but she’s—”

“Wait, so you do know her?” Taehyung looked surprised, and Jimin was surprised that he’d actually shown some use of his brain. “How’d you even recognise her? Wait! The tattoo?”

Jimin looked away, bitterly. “Yeah, the tattoo.” He exhaled, deciding to be upfront. “Look, Kim. I’ve been besotted with this girl for a really long time, okay? So—”

“So nothing, man! I didn’t come at her, okay? She was the one to approach me, and really boldly too with that nude of hers.” Taehyung suddenly narrowed his eyes. “And how can I even believe you? Maybe you’re lying because suddenly you wanna fuck her first!”

Jimin rolled his eyes, but Taehyung’s words did reach him. You really had approached Taehyung boldly. It hurt like a bitch that you were willing to fuck the campus fuckboy, actual personification of scum, but not him. Not Jimin, who cared about you enough to not try to fuck you.

What a world.

“She’s told me to be online at—oh fuck, in ten minutes! Give me my phone before I tackle you, Park!” Taehyung yelled from inside the car.

Jimin pursed his lips in thought. You had texted him about being home, hadn’t you? If he left now, he could get there in under ten minutes, and—

And what, then?

Well, at least talk to you before you showed Taehyung your face and cemented your place in the guy’s bed.

Mind made up, Jimin tossed Taehyung’s phone below the driver’s seat to buy him more time as he ran for it.

“Hey, hey, what—Park, you fucking bitch!”

Ignoring Taehyung’s calls, Jimin rushed through the college gates and sprinted down the sidewalk. Shouldering people out of his way—but also mumbling a litany of apologies along with it because he could picture his mother’s disapproving gaze—he didn’t even pause to catch his breath until he was scrambling down the stairs of the subway.

As fate would have it, the doors of the parked train were just beginning to slide shut when Jimin set foot on the platform.

Cursing, he leapt from the last stair, his feet meeting the ground just twice as he dived into the train, two seconds before the gates sealed shut.

Doing a victorious, little fist pump, he finally allowed himself to catch his breath, leaning his hands on his knees. When he straightened, a couple of people around him were looking at him weird. But he couldn’t let anything bother him — he was a man on a mission.

Within three minutes, the train was stopping at the next stop and Jimin was running out the gates and straight out of the subway.

As he stepped up the stairs to his flat, sweat was soaking his white t-shirt and he was hating himself for wearing skin tight jeans. Jogging up to the door, he quickly unlocked the apartment and rushed in, locking the door behind him. Haphazardly taking his shoes off and tossing the keys somewhere on the couches, he beelined for your room.

Hesitating only once, he turned the doorknob. It was locked.

You were getting ready to have virtual sex with Taehyung.

Clenching his jaw, he rapped his palm against the door thrice, his rings helping louden the sound.

He fidgeted, nervous out of his mind. He couldn’t even think about what he would say to you, way too occupied with the task of stopping you from making that call to Taehyung.

He called your name, followed by two more successive raps.

For a frightening second, he feared he was too late and you had already started with your—

“Jimin, is that you?” you yelled from inside the door.

Jimin squared his shoulders. “Open up! It’s urgent!”

Sounds of shuffling filtered through the door to him before you unlocked it and nearly tore it off the hinges with the strength you pulled it open with.

“What?” you barked, scowling at him. But then suddenly your frown melted away as your eyes did a quick sweep of his breathless, sweaty self, lingering—he noticed—around his neck. “What the hell, Jimin? Where’re you coming from?”

Jimin decided to do some exploration of his own.

Your face was flushed, chest heaving up and down—

And—

And Jimiin was fixated on your prominent nipples pushing against the oversized black t-shirt you’d obviously tossed over yourself in a hurry. He’d glimpsed your breasts in that very delicious photo, of course, but he’d fixated on your hips and not paid them enough attention. He regretted saying no to Taehyung's offer of looking at the boob pic you’d sent him, because…

Jimin’s thoughts faded out when he came back to himself.

You had sent Taehyung a pic of your boobs, too. The way Jimin felt like punching through a fucking wall!

“Stop staring at my boobs, pervert!” you suddenly scolded him, clicking your fingers in front of his face. “What was so urgent? I’m kinda in the middle of—”

“Please don’t do it,” he blurted, wide-eyed at his own brazenness, but he just felt so desperate, at this point.

You gaped at him. “What?”

“Don’t – don’t fuck him, please,” he continued arms darting forward to hold you by your shoulders.

You stiffened in his grasp, eyes going impossibly wide. “Jimin, what—are you – are you okay? What the fuck are you even talking about?”

He grew pained. “Taehyung. Don’t fuck him.”

He saw you draw in a sharp breath. “I wasn’t actually—wait, how do you know this?”

He rolled his lower lip into his mouth. “Well…he told me.”

You jumped away from him with your mouth dropped open. “What? How the hell do you even knowhim?”

“I sit with him in my psych class."

"In your psych—" You suddenly gasped. "The eccentric fuckboy!”

Jimin blinked, lip leaving the confines of his teeth with a plop. He didn’t miss the way your eyes dropped down to it for a moment. “What?”

“After your first class together, you told me you'd found a fuckboy with eccentric fashion choices to sit with. You said his name was Tannie! You have his number saved under Kim from psych!"

Jimin winced. "He’d told me way too much about himself, I messed up some details. Tannie’s his dog’s name."

“So, Taehyung is the eccentric fuckboy you sit next to, for an hour, three days a week."

"Yep."

“Oh, my God, this is fucked up,” you wailed, turning around to pace next to your bed, hands sifting through your open hair.

Jimin eyed the laptop on your bed. It suddenly came back to him – you’d seen Taehyung’s dick’s outline. You wanted to suck that abominable, STD infested, overused dick.

Jimin really hated his life, right now.

“So, don’t do it,” he tried again, walking into your room with authority he didn’t have. “Please.”

You looked at him with a scowl, face pulled in around your scrunched up nose in the middle. “Stop saying that!"

“Why do you even wanna?” Jimin whined, sounding more than a little sulky as he stood in your way, prompting you to stop walking. “He’s, like, the most despicable fuckboy on campus!”

“Well, that’s exactly why! I don’t need his heart, I just need his dick!” you crudely told him, throwing both your arms up. “It helps that it comes with explosive reviews from the entire female population on campus. I’ve had a frustrating couple of weeks, and, ugh. I really don't have any energy or patience to go through trials and errors to finally find someone who won’t disappoint.”

Jimin was breathing heavily after you finished speaking. You were that desperate for a fuck?

He dragged his heavy gaze over your body, bottom to top – you were barefoot with your toenails painted a gorgeous shade of royal blue, your bare calves were toned, slowly expanding into thighs that were—fuck. These thighs were ultimate ruiners of his sleep, God.

Your hands were balled at your sides. The oversized t-shirt you wore ended mid-thighs on your body, wrapping over your hips that he now knew to be juicy as fuck, and proceeded to tent at your breasts where your nipples were still fully erect and intending to cut through cloth.

The neck of the t-shirt was wide enough to let your collarbones be on complete display. Jimin held in a groan of want, pulling his lower lip in as he followed the smooth line of your long neck all the way up to your face. Your lips were redder than he was used to. You were wearing lipstick, he realised with a start, mouth falling open in surprise. Your eyes were lined with something, too, making them sharper than usual.

You were dressed to seduce, and he was trapped under your spell.

You looked good enough to eat.

What wouldn’t he give to be able to toss you onto this very bed and fuck the living daylights out of you…

“I can’t believe that fucker really told you,” your mumble suddenly brought him out of his lewd musings, and he adjusted his legs to be covert about his hardening length.

“Isn’t it typical of him? What else did you expect?” Jimin shrugged. “He also very nearly circulated the first nude you sent him to half the college campus. He literally bullied me into seeing it.”

Your face suddenly colored. “You… you saw my pictures?” you asked him in a small voice.

Jimin noticed how you focussed on the latter part of the sentence, and not the—evidently more concerning—former. Interesting.

“Just the first one.” His voice came out hoarse, throat suddenly very dry at the memory. “And then the last one, briefly. I recognized your tattoo…”

His eyes travelled down to your waist of their own accord, images and scenes running wild in his head. Those hips. Those delicious fucking hips were right here, within his reach. And they belonged to you — the girl of his fantasies of over a year.

Jimin exhaled brokenly, trying to calm himself down.

“Why are you stopping me?” you asked him in a mumble, sitting down on your bed. “I’m not trying to marry him, just hop on his dick for some gratification. I’m even gonna block his number after.”

He looked back up at your face, only to draw in a sharp breath. Your eyes were so so dark. His own probably mirrored yours.

He couldn’t hold back anymore.

“I…could possibly have an offer for an alternative. A better, less emotionally damaging and certainly more STD-proof alternative.”

Your lips quirked to the side. You leant back on the bed, supporting your weight on your palms, and crossed your legs.

Jimin’s gaze immediately zeroed in on your smooth thighs, and the desire to bury his face between them nearly incinerated him from within.

“Is that so?” Your voice had turned breathy. “Better alternative, huh? Got any testimonials to back it up?”

Holy fuck, were you really responding to his flirting?

“Not really,” Jimin murmured. And even though he did have a slew of ex partners that could vouch for his sexual prowess, he just wasn’t the kind of guy to brag so brazenly about all that. He licked his lips, taking a tentative step closer to you as he came up with a more tantalising offer. “You could sample it.”

Lust flooded your gaze, making it darker than he’d ever seen it in his life. Even if your words from yesterday morning had, apparently, not meant what he’d hoped for them to, this, right here – the naked want on your face, told him a whole different story. It felt unreal, and he wasn’t certain this wasn’t just a fever dream. But if it was a fever dream, he was gonna make it one hell of a memorable one.

When your hands nimbly reached out to wordlessly shut your laptop, moved closer to you, leaning a bit to catch your gaze.

“Would you like to?” he mumbled, softly.

Your breath stuttered out in response.

“Taehyung promised me he’d choke me on his cock,” you told him so abruptly, he almost gasped out loud.

But then Jimin clenched his jaw and walked even closer. He stepped between your legs and slid a hand into your hair, cupping your head with his fingers and massaging the skin behind your ear with his thumb. “Is that something you want, baby?” he breathed out, relishing the way your eyelashes fluttered at his touch. Or maybe his words, he wasn’t sure. “Hmm?”

Your tongue licked at your bottom lip, dragging a salacious path against the plump flesh until the red matte lipstick was glossy with your saliva. Jimin wanted to suck on it until it was red without the makeup’s tint, too.

“What do you think, Park?”

Something about the way you spoke his surname in a challenging tone had him going rock hard in his pants. He wanted to ruin you.

“Oh, I think you do,” he whispered, tugging your head up to straighten your body from its recline.

Your chin came to the same level as his belt. His whole body shuddered when you accidentally brushed against it.

“And I’ll make you choke on it, alright,” he continued, “after which I’ll make you clench on it, make you drench it with your juices. And if you’re good, maybe I’ll choke you without it, too.”

Your irises were twin black disks as you stared into his eyes with your breath bated. “Shit, Park, I…” You shook your head, pulling your lower lip into your mouth. “You’re so fucking hot,” you moaned, eyes sliding shut, and brought both your palms up to bunch into his t-shirt.

A small smirk slid up Jimin’s face. “Is that so?” he murmured, thrilled by the look of torture on your face when your brows scrunched up. “Well, sweetheart, you happen to be the sexiest, most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. And even though I’ve acquired evidence to support my claim very recently, I’ve told you this multiple times before,” he mumbled, mouth watering at the sight of you nibbling on your lip.

Your heavy lidded eyes met his as you slowly opened them again. “You have, but… never with this look in your eyes.” Your breath hitched, one of your hands leaving his shirt to wander the length of his torso, lingering near the end of his abs. He held back a shiver. “Like you want to rip my clothes off and devour me whole, this very moment.”

Jimin’s nostrils flared, teeth grinding even harder. Oh, how he wanted that. How he wanted exactly that.

“Oh, sweetheart, I do intend to do that and more. Lay you bare beneath me, touch every single inch of your body. And then let my tongue follow.”

You made a small sound from the back of your throat and Jimin very nearly came in his pants. “What’s the hold up, then? All I hear are promises, Park. Where’s the delive—”

With a growl, Jimin tightened his grip on the back of your neck and pulled your face in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, effectively shutting you up and fulfilling your demand at the same time.

The first contact was, very poetically, electric. Current zapped through his body, beginning where your soft lips had molded against his in acceptance, and reaching all the way down to his semi-erect length. Which was now starting to painfully strain against his too tight jeans.

Your mouth opened up to him, and he swallowed your moan of want when his tongue brushed against yours. He poured all his pent up feelings and desires into the kiss, pressing harder against you when you pliantly tilted your head back to give him more room.

Jimin couldn’t fathom he was kissing you. Finally, fucking finally, after more than a year of lusting for these lips — he finally had them entwined with his own. He lost his mind somewhere in between the soft pull of your even softer lips, harsh nips of your teeth, smooth glides of your tongue.

And then he grabbed a handful of your hips, and went feral.

With a grunt, Jimin opened his mouth wider, licking into yours between harshly sucking on your tongue. It was a mess — sloppy and wet and desperate when he explored your mouth with full fervor, tongue curling against the inner seams of your lips.

Your hand slid over his waist, leaving fire in its wake as it slid past his t-shirt to trace the tight muscles of his abdomen. Jimin brought his other hand to rest next to you on the bed, now leaning over you.

His lungs were protesting for air, but he just couldn’t get enough of your taste. It was you that finally pulled away, panting heavily into his mouth.

Jimin blinked, struggling to come out of the daze you’d put him in. He looked at your parted lips, hunger building up in him when he saw the smudges of your lipstick around them. Your wide eyes gazed up at him with so much naked lust, holy fuck. He so very desperately wanted you naked.

“You want this?” he asked you, testing his own restraint when his length ached from being confined for so long in its rock hard state.

You looked too delirious to respond, nodding very slowly with your eyes nearly glazing over as your gaze lowered to look at his crotch.

“Say the words, sweetheart. This is about consent, I’m not trying to force you into something you’re hesitant about,” Jimin unnecessarily clarified, well aware of how both of your bodies were vibrating with need.

“Jimin, for God’s sake, stop talking and fuck me,” you gritted out, grabbing hold of his t-shirt and tugging at it until he was raising himself off the bed to get rid of it.

Tossing it aside, he raked a hand through his hair and peered down at you. Your mouth hung open, eyes seeming to drink him up.

Well, good for you, because he was losing his sanity with every passing second that he was spending close to you but not close enough.

“As you wish, sweetheart,” he mumbled before moving to unbuckle his belt and quickly unbutton his jeans in succession.

He stopped there, though, and caught hold of your hand when you tried to reach for his waistband. He shook his head when your eyes shot to his.

“Your turn.”

He saw your throat move on a gulp. You skittered back on the bed, rising up on your knees when you’d reached the center. He followed you, placing a knee on your bed to get to you.

Your fingers trembled as they reached for the hem of your t-shirt, with suppressed want or nervousness, Jimin couldn't tell. He was a mixture of both.

He watched, breathing completely ceased, as the t-shirt rose and unleashed more and more of your smooth skin. When you raised it above your waist, he sucked in a large breath, eyes widened, jaw dropped open and body nearly quivering with want.

Your hips.

Your juicy fucking hips.

They were right there, calling out to him with their hourglass curve as they tapered into your trim waist with a soft abdomen. You wore a tiny, burgundy scrap of lace as a substitute for underwear, and he recalled it to be the thong he’d barely caught a glimpse of in the picture of your ass.

Your breasts bounced free, next, and Jimin moved his throat in a thick swallow, a palm cupping over his crotch. Your nipples were pebbled and juicy, and he just wanted to wrap his lips around them and suck to his heart’s content.

He shuffled forward on the bed when you got to your shoulders, helping you untangle your arms and hair from the piece of clothing.

Once the t-shirt was fully off, you looked at him with a bashful smile. “Why’re you gawking like that? You’ve seen it all before,” you mumbled, sitting back on your haunches, your own gaze rounding back to his torso.

“Pictures don’t hold a light for the real deal, holy fuck,” he managed to choke out.

Your coy smile turned challenging. “How do you know? You haven’t even touched, yet.”

The nerve of you to—

Jimin pounced, knocking you back into the mattress as he covered your body with his, making sure to press every inch of himself on you.

Your wide eyes looked at him in surprise but more than a little hunger, and oh did he want to take care of that.

One of his forearms dug into the bed next to your head while his other hand gripped at your shoulder. He hissed against your lips when your curves molded against him.

“You’re so fucking insufferable but so fucking delectable, fuck,” he gasped, unable to resist when his eyes fell onto your quivering lips, and kissed you again.

You moaned loudly into his mouth, not in the least bit shy about devouring his lips as messily as he did yours. Your tongue curled against his, making his insides turn to molten lava. He could feel your nipples against his chest and, his palm slid down your side, curving along your breast as it spanned down to—

Oh.

His palm met your hip and he was lost.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, digging his fingers in.

Your dark eyes looked back at him, shuttered, sensuous and perfectly fitting for the goddess that you were.

“Do you know how fucking long I've fantasized about having this body of yours under me, you minx?” he grumbled, sliding down your body.

His mouth latched onto your neck, both hands curving around your waist as he pressed kisses down the column of your throat. Your head fell back with a moan, granting him more access, and he took advantage of it, running his mouth up to your jaw, his tongue licking at your skin.

Your skin was so soft and smooth – even more than it looked.

He grazed his teeth against your jaw, pulling back to look at you.

Your eyes were shut, brows pinched, and mouth was hanging open in abandon. He leaned over your face to pull your bottom lip into his mouth. Giving it a hard suckle, he let go with a pop.

Your eyes fluttered open, looking at him with an intoxicated look on your face. “Jimin…”

“Yes, sweetheart?” His fingers dug into your waist.

“Touch me,” you whimpered, throat convulsing.

Jimin grinned. “I am.”

His palms slid down your sides, and as he met the curve of your hips again, his previous plans of teasing you flew out the window.

Holy fucking hell.

“These fucking hips,” he grit out, digging his fingers into the meaty flesh. “They’ve been driving me insane, do you know?”

You really did have the sexiest body he had ever seen. A perfect figure with enough chubbiness in places to make you feel soft, womanly and real. His eyes were caught by your abdomen and he leant down to press a kiss beneath your navel before he could think too much about it.

“You’re so soft and so delicious…”

You released a muted gasp in response, but he was too busy exploring the curve of your waist. His fingers ran over your smooth skin, nails scratching lightly. You jumped when he went a little rougher, and he gripped you harder, leaning down again, this time to suck open mouthed kisses over your waist, all the way from your navel to the dip in your side.

“Fuck, Jimin—”

You broke off on a gasp when his tongue met your skin, tracing wet paths, absorbing the taste to his memories. He groaned into your stomach, dragging his face over the flimsy waistband of your underwear. He moved to the side to tug at the string at your hip with his teeth, licking underneath it, and then dug his teeth into the delicious flesh beneath.

A moan slipped past his own lips, nearly drowning the stream of gasping sounds coming from you. He had his mouth on these goddess-like hips.

Finally, fucking finally.

“Jimin, Jimin, fuck—”

He tasted his fill, leaving kisses, and nipping, biting and licking you up as he desired. The delicate waistband of your thong was haphazardly pulled every which way, only barely covering your center as Jimin went about devouring you.

Your breathing was labored, chest heaving and shoulders twitching when he finally managed to pull himself off your body. He looked at you from under his brows. You had an arm folded over your forehead and the other hand fisted in your pillow. You already looked fucked out and he’d barely even done anything.

Pressing a hand down on your abdomen, he pulled your attention to him.

Your eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated and everything. Your lips were well-bitten, swollen and red. So fucking delicous.

He slid his palm up your torso, curving around your breast. You visibly trembled when he gave the rounded flesh a squeeze. Jimin loved the sight, moving his thumb to flick at your nipple.

“Jimin,” you breathed, hand moving from the pillow to grip at his wrist.

Jimin clicked his tongue, removing your hand. “Ah ah, no,” he murmured, voice deeper, loaded with arousal.

You mutely looked at him, eyes wide and irises nearly wholly eclipsed by your pupils.

He swiped his tongue over his lower lip, placing your arm above your head with the other one. He held both your wrists in his hand and tugged, causing your breasts to jiggle invitingly. Barely containing the wanton moan that swelled up in his throat at the sight, Jimin flicked your nipple again.

“These hands,” Jimin murmured, face lowered to your throat as he leant over you, “stay here. You move them, we stop. Understood?”

He dipped his head to lick at a sweat droplet collected between your collarbones. Your breath stuttered out and he saw you swallow.

Jimin drew back when he didn’t hear you respond.

You were panting, now, lower lip extended way past your jaw as you looked at him with your eyes rounded.

He raised an eyebrow. “I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

You gasped aloud, as if suddenly inhaling a lot of air after having stopped breathing for a few seconds. Maybe you had, you looked very much on the edge.

Your head jerked in a nod, fingers of both hands gingerly clasping together above your head.

“I’m gonna need your words, baby,” he prompted you in a low murmur. “And I better not have to repeat myself.”

You shut your mouth with a click, eyes widening just a tad bit. “I… yes,” you whispered, voice nothing but a hoarse whisper. “Yes, I understand.”

Jimin nodded, lowering his mouth to sweep his tongue over your neglected nipple before engulfing it whole. “Good,” he spoke into your skin, relishing the taste of you.

“Uh, Chim?”

Jimin caught apprehension beneath your breathiness. He immediately pulled his head up to look into your eyes. “Yes, sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“I…” You nodded.

But then you were biting your lip again and Jimin couldn’t believe how fucking lucky he was to have you looking so submissive beneath him. All his dreams – coming to an unimaginably amazing conclusion.

He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure this wasn’t a fever dream.

You cleared your throat, jutting your chin out in an obviously faux show of confidence. “I don’t have to call you, like… master, or something, do I?”

Despite the instant tightening in his pants, Jimin couldn't hold back the laugh that tumbled out of him. He threw his head back and guffawed. Yeah, this was definitely real.

You slapped him on the thigh. “Shut up!”

He collected himself with difficulty. “No master, sweetheart. Just my name would be fine.”

“Well, you’re into some kinky shit, Park, I was just making sure.” You crossed your hands against your chest, pouting crossly. “Could’ve said a simple no, though. Didn’t have to laugh like that, you meanie.”

He was still grinning even as he gripped both your wrists and pulled your arms up to pin them next to your head. Your pout slipped away, lips falling open on a gasp. He leant over your body, pressing his chest against yours, smirking when your lashes fluttered.

You felt delicious, all sweet and soft curves pressed up against his planes.

“You hit me.”

You blinked, frowning. “Wha—”

“You hit me. On the thigh.”

Your eyes went wide in alarm and Jimin chuckled at the horror on your face. “I’m — I’m sorry, Jimin, I—”

He slid higher up your body, grinding his denim covered crotch into you. “Are you?”

You choked on an inhale, moaning with your mouth closed when Jimin moved his hips again. Your tongue peeked out to lick at your lips while you gave him a nod.

“Yes, Jimin,” you whispered, eyes looking away from him as you demurely lowered them.

Jimin hissed. Why did every single, little action of yours make him lose all control over himself? He sighed.

He looked up at your hands struggling in his grip, and then around the room. And then he looked down at himself, eyes pausing at his waist. He quickly unlooped his belt from his jeans.

“Jimin, what—oh.”

He pulled your wrists up to the bars in the headboard and glanced at your face. “This okay? Use your words.”

Your cheeks were red when you nodded. “Yes. Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Good.” He looped his belt through the bars and, binding your wrists together, tightened the buckle. “This good?”

You nodded.

He quickly dipped his head to nip at your collarbone. “Words.”

“Y—yes, yes, Jimin. This is – it’s good,” you brokenly breathed.

Jimin nodded his approval, patting your cheek affectionately.

Then he descended your body and got to work on your breasts, weighing them in his palms as his thumb flicked both their tips. Your body twitched beneath him, little whimpers egging him on, you looking at him with your sultry gaze. He moved a hand to close his forefinger and thumb over a nipple, tugging the flesh and giving it a jerk. Your breast jiggled, and you both groaned in unison.

“Look at you, sweetheart, God,” Jimin groaned, one hand mapping the surface of your abdomen to rest below your navel. He tugged at your nipple with his other hand, again. “These are pure sin.”

His mouth closed over the other nipple.

“Jimin—ah…”

Jimin hummed contently, swirling his tongue around the nipple before dragging his lips off of it. He immediately moved on to the other side, bringing his other hand back up to cup over your breast. He squeezed at the soft flesh while his teeth grazed against the sensitive tip, and you mewled beneath him.

He had his mouth wrapped around the gorgeous, perky nipples he’d seen in your picture, yesterday, and wanted to taste. Life really didn't get better than this, did it?

He looked up at your face to find your lip locked between your teeth and eyes screwed shut. He bit down, sinking his teeth into the supple flesh of your tit.

Your eyes sprang open with a gasp, neck immediately craning to look at him.

He met your gaze with a wink, lapping at your skin with his tongue.

“Chim…”

Your moan was loud and deep, vibrating through your chest to his mouth. Jimin suckled hungrily, hands grabbing at you greedily.

When he finally pulled away, he’d left a huge, blooming red mark on you and it was rapidly changing colors to turn purple. Jimin pressed a kiss against it.

His hands made their way down to the string of the waistband of your thong, index finger twisting the fabric.

“This little piece of lace,” he mocked. “What good does it do, anyway?”

Your cheeks were flaming when he met your eyes. “I…”

“It’s so fragile,” Jimin whispered in a breathless urgency, moving to plant a kiss in the middle of said piece of clothing, over the wet patch he could clearly spot. “Bet I could tear it off with a single finger.”

He heard your breath hitch as he gave the waistband another twist, wrapping it over the knuckle of his index finger now. He tucked his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes ravenously drinking up the sight of you peeking past the tiny triangle of your thong.

And then he snapped the damn thing, tearing it into two and pulling it off your body.

“Chim!” your gasp was instant, back arching in an attempt to rise but you were held back by your tied hands.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he mumbled, but he wasn’t actually in a condition to listen to you, right now.

Not when he had you spread out, pink and swollen and pretty in front of him. He dropped the cloth off to the side, bringing in both his palms to part your legs even further.

And your thighs. These fucking thighs with all their plumpness and the jiggle in them when you walked around in booty shorts, ugh.

“D’you know how crazy you’ve driven me with these?”

He massaged the inside of your thighs and your body gyrated, hips shifting with your gasps.

“I was walking around with permanent boners because the sight of your legs drove me insane. All I could think about was wrapping these around my waist,” he husked, depraved eyes running over the smooth skin of your thighs before his palms followed, tracing a path from the underside of your knee, up to your hips, “and fucking you against the nearest wall.”

“Jimin,” you stuttered, eyes looking at him in what looked like wonder, your breathing seemingly ceased.

Well, he would give you a reason to breathe. Gasp. Scream his name.

He dragged his hands up to the juncture of your thighs, spread them, and trained his eyes at your center. His reserve completely gave out when he found you slick and sopping wet, with your arousal painting the tops of your thighs.

“So fucking messy,” he gritted, teeth clenching tight, “and much more dirtier than my filthiest fantasies.”

Jimin reached out with two fingers, parting your folds to expose you fully to his sight.

“Ah, fuck. That’s – that feels cold…” you whispered, wide eyes roving his face.

Jimin realised his rings had made contact with you. He sucked in a breath at the sight of your slick rubbing over his silver bands.

“Oh, baby,” he purred, drowning in lust, mouth salivating. “You’re dripping everywhere, sweetheart, fuck. Look at you ruining my rings. So fucking pretty.”

His fingers slipped down your lips, brushing your clit and converging as they travelled lower yet. He watched with rapt attention, eyes wide and tongue resting against his upper teeth as his fingers slipped right into you, travelling deep into your gripping warmth.

A low sound left him just as you moaned out his name.

"All this for me, yeah?" He nipped at your thigh above your knee.

You nodded, your half lidded gaze on him. "All for you. Just for you."

He sucked in a huge breath, grunting when his fingers scissored up to the spot he was looking for inside of you. He experimentally curled his fingers, eyes darting up to look at your face.

You jumped at the contact, eyes squeezing shut and jaw dropping open.

“There?” He watched your contorted face with rapt attention.

“Uh huh,” tumbled out of your mouth as you nodded frantically.

Having mercy on your mindless state, he let you get away without speaking up this one time. He wanted to touch you, taste you, consume you until you were sobbing in his arms. That, and he himself was too far gone to care, right now.

He released your thigh from his other hand, sitting up on the bed and spreading his own knees for some relief while his fingers moved in you. Unzipping his jeans with his free hand, he tugged the fabric off his crotch, sighing when the tightness released. Then he moved the hand to hold you by your waist, your leg folding up between your bodies.

Jimin licked his lips, hair falling in his eyes and gaze never leaving your fucked out face. He gripped your calf, unfolding it and tossing it over his shoulder. Your eyes opened, looking straight at him past a hazy curtain. He gave you a grin, moving his head to press an open mouthed kiss against your ankle, and you jerked against him, biting down on your lip and squeezing your eyes shut again.

“S—so good, Jimin…”

Jimin’s cheek ticked up in a smile, fingers moving in you faster.

You looked exquisite like this – spread in front of him like a platter, hands pulled up and tied off, breasts bouncing, back arching, hips moving to his rhythm, and pussy stuffed full with his fingers. He wanted to touch you, taste you, consume you until you were sobbing in his arms.

“You look so delectable, I wanna fucking eat you up whole,” he grunted, pressing his nose into your ankle to ground himself.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Drunk on your inebriating scent filling up the air between the two of you, Jimin lowered himself on the bed and launched himself onto you, tongue moving to lick at your clit.

“Oh m—Fuck! Jimin! Holy – shit!”

Egged on by your yelps, Jimin attached his open mouth to you, letting his lips meet your wetness while his tongue rolled over your clit. Your taste was heady – an aphrodisiac if there was ever one. He could get drunk on this.

And he intended to.

“So fucking delicious, baby,” he spoke into you. “Could eat you out forever, mm hmm.”

“Jimin, Jimin, oh my God, fuck, Ji~min,” you chanted his name, tugging at your constraints and twisting your body every which way, but Jimin’s grip on your thigh held you in place.

He slurped at your leaking slit, pulling his fingers out of you to let his tongue take their place, massaging your entrance and dipping past it in small licks.

“Chim...please,” you groaned, craning your neck as far as you could to look at his head of dark hair working between your legs. “More.”

But Jimin was unrelenting, not letting up with his mellow teasing as he licked, kissed and nipped at your cunt without delivering what he knew you needed. His fingers, slick with your arousal, moved to hold your hips down from moving too much, smearing your abdomen with your own wetness.

The thought of licking your essence off those sinful hips made him lose what remained of his senses, and Jimin dove full in. He had you at his mercy with your hands out of service and hips in his vice like grasp, and you were well aware of the power he held if your desperate pleas were anything to go by.

He hummed against your clit, teeth raking against the soft flesh and you convulsed above him, begging for a whole different reason now.

“Jimin! I’m close… please, baby…”

“Not yet, sweetness,” Jimin murmured into you. “Let me have a proper taste first.”

He flattened his tongue over your slit, licking a fat stripe up your cunt, and you yelled out a garbled curse, thighs quivering in his grasp. Then he dipped his tongue in again, licking into your heat while his nose bumped into the hood of your clit. Your high pitched yells of his name were gradually losing coherence, making him grin against you in satisfaction.

He decided to bring his fingers back in, sliding two of them into you again and massaging the spot they met when he curled them, while his lips closed over your clit in a tight suction. Your body quivered above him, drawn out groans of some contorted form of his name escaping you and echoing in the space around you two.

“Don’t you dare come until I tell you to,” he spoke into you, voice coming out ragged and heavy and hungry.

Jimin furiously fucked you with his fingers, teeth coming in to play with your clit as he did, grunting at the squelching sounds it made. Your cunt seemed to be growing narrower by how hard you were clenching around him, he could tell you were getting closer. He uncurled his other hand from your thigh to rest on your abdomen, feeling the stickiness he’d left there before, and he gripped your waist to pull you further down onto his mouth and fingers. He messily ate you out, tongue licking every inch of your delicious softness and lips meshing into you before sucking at your clit, voraciously.

You whined aloud, and Jimin chuckled against you.

“All good, baby?” he hummed into you, and you broke into a litany of pleas.

“Jim...Jimin...I’m gom—gonna – please, I—ungh, please lemme come, pleathe…”

Jesus fucking Christ, he would lose his fucking mind.

He swore to himself, detaching his mouth from you long enough to rest the side of his head against your thigh and look at your face which was all screwed up in agony. He groaned at the sight, sponging a kiss to the inside of your thigh, fingers moving in you even more frenetically.

“Come for me, baby.”

He immediately returned to your core and pressed even closer into you, flicking his tongue over your clit once before swirling it around in tight circles.

“Come all over my tongue, pretty, lemme drink you up.”

Your channel gripped his fingers even harder and your moans grew in pitch. Jimin immediately wrapped his lips around your little nub to suck as hard as he could.

Your reaction was instant, a scream of his name ripping from your throat and the heel of your leg hooked over his shoulder digging into his shoulder blade as your body drew taut.

“Ji—min, fuck fuck fuck. Fuck! Fuck—ah!”

Your walls fluttered around his fingers, squeezed so tight around them he wondered if he would even fit inside of you. But your juices had him forgetting about everything but your intoxicating taste, and he withdrew his fingers from you to seal his mouth over your entrance, lapping up every bit of your release.

"Mm hmm, so pretty, so delicious, baby…"

“Chim… too much, ah…” your weak sob somehow penetrated the cloud of lust he was swimming in.

Very reluctantly, Jimin gave a single parting lick to your pussy, swiping his tongue from the very bottom to the very top, and moved to sit up between your spread legs. He brought his wet fingers up to his mouth, popping them in and licking off every trace of your heavenly taste from them.

He hadn’t realised when his eyes had closed in bliss, but your little gasp made him open them to meet yours.

“You did so well, sweetheart,” he praised, brushing a kiss on the top of your knee with his lips still soaked in your essence. He sat back on his haunches and swiped the back of his hand over his mouth and chin, then. “Are you okay?”

Your gaze was heavy, lips red and parted as you stated at him. Then you scoffed a small laugh, lips pulling up in a smile.

"I’m – I’m more than okay, oh God. That was… so fucking good, Chim, your mouth is… fuck," you breathed out, still panting heavily. “You’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life. What the fuck, Park?!”

Jimin scoffed. You were calling him sexy? Had you seen yourself? Your breasts were heaving enticingly, sweat dotting various parts of your body, and Jimin really just wanted to lick your entire body clean.

He brought a hand up to rake through his hair, abs and obliques flexing with his action. He noticed your eyes trace his torso. He grinned at you wickedly when you licked your lips.

“See something you like?”

“Oh my God, Jimin, untie me,” you moaned, taking him by surprise. “Right now.”

He squinted at you. “What makes you think you’re in a position to give orders, here, sweetheart?”

"I really really need your cock in my mouth in the next ten seconds, or I might die," you announced with your wide eyes looking really serious and sort of panicked.

Jimin nearly swallowed his tongue, because damn did that filthy mouth of yours bypass his imagination. He had never been so hard in his life.

“Is that right?” He reined in his surprise and looked down his nose at you.

You squirmed under his gaze. “Yes, Chim. Please?”

“You could’ve asked nicely to start with, sweetness," he chastised, even as he moved to close your legs and straddle your waist to work the buckle of the belt. “Why run your mouth and risk being edged for an hour, hmm?"

Your movements froze for a moment, alarmed eyes connecting with his challenging ones. “Please don’t do that.”

Jimin gave a hearty laugh. “Ask nicely, then.”

He sat back on your thighs, leaving the belt still twisted up in your hands despite the buckle being undone. Waiting.

He crossed his arms over his chest when you kept gaping at him. “Go on?”

You whined, turning your face to the side. “Come on, Jiminie, untie me! You deserve to have your soul sucked out of your cock, baby, please don’t deprive me. Please?”

His eyebrows shot up at your unexpected surrender. He’d expected you to protest more. Did you really want him in your mouth that bad? Oh, God.

“Are you trying to make me come in pants like a fucking teenager, what the hell?”

You pouted at him, eyes shining with mischief. “Someone said something about choking me with his cock. I’m just trying to get you to fulfill your promises, Park.”

Jimin smirked at you, lips parting and teeth peeking. He moved on top of you, nipping at the peak of your breast, the edge of your jaw, your earlobe – before feathering his lips over your ear. “I could do that with your hands tied, too, pretty,” he breathed. “Say the word.”

You choked on an inhale, chest frozen under him while he chuckled at you and sat back up.

“You’re sinful, Park Jimin,” you muttered, eyes shuttering in a playful glare.

Jimin tugged his belt off your hands and the bed frame, softly massaging your wrists while he slowly brought your arms down to rest on your abdomen.

“Looked in a mirror lately, Miss?” He raised an eyebrow, pulling your hands up to plant a soft kiss on the reddened skin of both your wrists.

You bashfully ducked your head, rising to sit up with his help.

He slid back on the bed, slowly widening his stance to accomodate you between his legs. He wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you to him while he feathered the fingertips of the other hand over your thighs.

Your hand came up to cup his jaw, eyes gazing at him with unabashed lust and what seemed like a little bit of admiration. He smirked in response, tilting his head to accept you when you leant forward to capture his lips in a kiss. He immediately moaned into your mouth as you took command, massaging his lips with yours. Your other hand travelled to the back of his head, gripping his hair as you moved his head in accordance to you. Your tongue didn’t waste time in coming out to trace his lips, and he relinquished all control when you slid forward to straddle his lap with a deep groan.

He maneuvered the two of you around without breaking the kiss, and sat back against your headboard. He helped you wrap both your legs around his waist, one hand reaching up to massage your scalp while the other traveled down to palm your ass.

You fell against his chest, both palms landing on his body, and instead of gripping onto him to steady yourself the way he’d expected you to, your hands started to wander. One of them reached up to trace his pectoral muscles, fingers brushing his fevered skin until your thumb suddenly flicked against his nipple, making him grunt into your kiss.

Your lips formed a smirk, your other hand sliding down his abdomen to curve over the front of his jeans. Jimin nipped at your upper lip when you drew his bottom one into your mouth, massaging it with your tongue.

Your palm curled over him above his boxers. Blood hummed in his veins, making him cry out into your mouth.

Jimin pulled away from the kiss, canting his head back onto the headboard to catch his breath. You did the same with your head rolling over your shoulder, provocative eyes looking at him like a predator’s while your fist tightened over his length.

“Ready for the best suck of your life, Mister Park?” Your voice was breathy, borderline desperate, but your eyes held a spark of defiance.

Jimin bit his lip, very well aware of the jump in his cock at the address. He couldn’t believe how easily you changed forms from being a writhing, submitting mess underneath him to straight up messing with him.

He loved it.

When your eyes left his cut, muscled V-line, you winked at him and crawled backward on the bed, getting off his lap.

Jimin gave you a wolfish grin in return. “Hit me with your best shot, Miss,” he teased.

And you did.

Your hands immediately busied themselves in wrestling his underwear past his ass. He lifted himself up from the mattress to aid you in the process as you tugged at his jeans, tearing the piece of clothing down his legs as if it had personally offended you.

Jimin watched you in amusement while you hurriedly freed his legs off the jeans and then his boxers. His cock was rock hard, slapping his abdomen when it sprang free from the confines of his underwear. His tip was red, begging for attention, and it took everything in him to not grip himself and give a few satiating strokes. He had been doing that for months. Now that he had you sitting in front him, buck naked and eyeing his cock with yearning in your gaze, he wouldn’t miss any fraction of an opportunity to have your hands on him.

He gave a small chuckle when you grumbled between your struggles of freeing his ankles from his skinny jeans.

But then all humor was knocked out of him.

You didn’t wait for a single second, not even pausing to breathe before wrapping a palm around him and descending over him with your mouth open wide and wet. Your lips wrapped around his tip and you gave his cock a loud, wet, slurpy suction before licking off the precum slathered around the slit.

Jimin’s hips bucked off the bed, hands scrambling to find purchase in your hair and the bedsheets. “Holy shit, babe!”

You looked at him through your lashes, all sultry and luscious, and dipped your chest further down towards the bed.

Jimin slowly followed the lithe line of your spine, all the way up to—

“Fuck…”

Your ass was raised up as you knelt between his legs and your mouth-watering hips fell in his direct line of sight. The navy blue and black butterfly moved in tandem with your head, taunting him.

This was quite possibly the most erotic sight he’d ever seen in his entire life. Better than his imagination.

While he was still recovering from the visual of his dreams, you removed your hand from his cock, and using your tongue to spread his precum and your spit all over him, you opened your mouth to take him all in.

A choked cough escaped him when his tip hit the back of your throat.

“What—sweetheart, I—fuck,” he brokenly stuttered, confused between pleasure and concern, the hand in your hair trying to pull you off him. “Are you—ah, are you okay, babe?”

You moved your hand to squeeze at his thigh, and Jimin relaxed. You’d caught him off guard and so he wasn’t aware of how prepared you were. It would kill him if he accidentally hurt you.

But going by the way your lips were moving over his cock in a tight vacuum seal, you’d been more than prepared for him.

Your mouth bobbed up and down in quick, shallow strokes. Not every stroke hit the back of your throat, but you had your tongue flattened over the underside of him and were licking at the really sensitive vein that ran beneath his skin with your every move. Jimin dragged his other hand through the bed, abdominal muscles flexing and twitching with every jerk of your head.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good. So warm, shit—”

He peeled open his involuntarily shut eyes with effort, looking down at the lewd sight of you.

Your cheeks were hollowed, and lips progressively growing a darker shade of red. Jimin belatedly recalled the lipstick you’d worn. Pride swelled in his chest on realising he’d probably wiped it all off with his own mouth.

“Look at you, fuck,” he grunted, chest heaving with short, quick breaths. “So fucking filthy. D’you know how often I have imagined this?”

The carnal sight of your lips stretching wide over him was nearly too much to handle. He sat up from his recline, one hand tightening in your hair and the other reaching across the span of your body to grope at your hips, squeezing the delicious flesh there before moving lower to give your plump ass a smack.

Your responding groan vibrated through his cock, and Jimin threw his head back with a muffled whine. “Shit, shit, shit—”

Your mouth slipped off him, hand coming to grip around his length. You swirled your tongue over his tip, rubbing it back and forth when his hips bucked, while your hand maintained a steady rhythm over the rest of him.

Jimin wheezed in heavy breaths, pulling his hand off your hip to shove his hair back from his sweaty forehead.

His grip on your hair tightened. “What a dirty fucking girl… fuck… you look so good like this, baby.”

You looked up at him through your lashes at his praise, and he nearly fucking came. Oh God, you were so sexy.

But you recognised the delirious look in his eyes because you removed your hand from his thigh to grab his free hand and put it in your hair. Jimin swallowed a gasp. How were you able to ignite every single nerve ending of his with every little action of yours?

Jimin combed the fingers of both his hands through your hair, twisting it into a makeshift ponytail and held that in one hand. He tapped at your cheek with the other. “Pat my thigh when you need to tap out, okay? Don’t go over your limit.”

You nodded around a mouthful of his cock, and Jimin really fucking lost it for a second there. Remembering himself, he gathered his bearings, and tugged at your hair. You detached your mouth with a gasping whine, a thread of his precum hanging off your swollen lower lip and connecting to his dick.

He moaned at the sight, thumb moving to swipe against your lip. You caught it in your mouth, flicking your tongue against it the way you did on his dick, and Jimin’s breath caught.

You were nearly too much to handle. Nearly.

“Speak up, pretty,” he grunted, roughly pulling his thumb off you, replacing his hand to hold your chin.

You blinked at him with big, muddled eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he implored. “Tell me you understand.”

“Yes, I understand.” You licked your lips, eyes falling back to his length. “Won’t go over my limit. Just… fuck, Jimin, fuck my throat. Please. Need you, wanna feel you.”

Jimin didn’t need another summoning. Swearing under his breath, he gripped your face with both his hands and raised himself to his knees. You got to your hands and knees before him, cheek nudging his slit.

Your eyes were nearly glazed over, and if Jimin sat back to ponder the fact that you looked so freaking intoxicated by the prospect of having him fuck your mouth, this would be over way too soon. He breathed in deeply, instead, raking his eyes over your prone form and reminding himself of the thorough fucking you deserved for being so fucking unbelieavably receptive.

Tucking his lower lip between his teeth, Jimin directed your mouth towards his cock with a hand, sliding himself in with a grip on your hair, and your lax throat took him right in.

“Oh my God, fuck!”

Any and all thoughts left his brain – the feeling of your throat constricting around him the only thing in his world.

“You feel so incredible, baby, fuck—”

He wanted to hold back, really truly did, but the way you were suppressing your gag reflex and presenting yourself to him with such abandon had him going feral. With a muted growl, Jimin pulled himself out, tapping his tip against your deep red lips before driving deep again.

Your throat convulsed on him, teasing eyes telling him you’d done it on purpose, and he sputtered, mouth salivating and eyes rolling back.

“You dirty fucking minx,” he hissed, tugging at your hair to get your eyes back on his. “If you lose your voice because I fucked your mouth too hard, you’ll only have yourself to blame.”

And then he was wild, ravenous, untamed – holding your face still as he rammed his length into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. Your scattered moans around him were making him lose his mind. He had no clue how long he would last like this, but he could not restrain himself.

He’d always had lengthy plans for you, if ever got you under him. All his fantasies comprised him tasting every single, supple inch of your body, bringing you so much pleasure that you passed out from his mouth alone and he had to wake you up to fuck you. But right now, it seemed like he was gonna nut down your throat and pass out himself before he got to dick you down.

That thought, and that thought alone, was what helped him grip onto his slipping control.

Slowing his tempo for a moment, Jimin clenched his abdomen, reeling his spiralling restraint back in before he thrust again, repeatedly meeting the back of your throat. Your mouth was so warm, oh God.

He could feel sweat accumulating over his brow, running down his back, gathering over his abs from exertion.

“So good to me, so fucking pretty,” he heaved between heavy breaths, feeling hs balls tighten when you hummed in response.

Three more thrusts and then Jimin paused, pulling your head away from him.

“Enough! Fuck, I don’t wanna come before I get inside of you.”

Your slacked jaw came off him, pupils completely blown out, no trace of your irises visible at first glance. Jimin sank back on his haunches, jerking you up to kneel with him.

Your eyes still hadn’t connected to his, chasing his length until your face started to descend again.

Your reddened lips, watery eyes and all the spit and precum dribbling down your chin was already too erotic of a sight for Jimin to resist. But the second he saw you trying to get your mouth back on his dick, he lost all semblances of lucidity.

“Fucking hell, come here, you—”

Jimin grabbed your whole face in his hands and closed his open mouth over your delicate lips. He tasted traces of himself on your tongue, salty and wholly unpleasant, but the obscene sight he just saw was painted on the back of his eyelids and he growled low in his throat before sucking on your lips harder.

He let go of you when your hand tapped against his chest.

“Need to… breathe…”

Jimin chuckled, letting go of you. “You okay, pretty?”

Your eyes were shut, palms resting on his thighs as your chest heaved. You swiped your hair over your shoulder, nodding.

Your eyes opened to connect straight with his, your palms moving up his thighs. “I wanna ride you.” You licked your lips when he raised an eyebrow. “Please? Will you – will you let me ride you?”

Jimin swallowed, breath faltering. What a fucking sex goddess. And how good at learning and retaining instructions.

Inwardly, he wanted to moan out a depraved agreement and let you ride him into eternity, because God knew he would spontaneously combust if he wasn’t inside of you soon. But he also needed to pound you into your bed really bad. So on the outside, he looked at you with his head tilted back and thighs spread, deciding to entertain you for a while.

Taking in his inviting stance, you didn’t waste time climbing into his lap. He licked a path up the soft, delicious skin of your throat while you wound your arms around his shoulders. His palms flattened over your thighs, fingers digging into your delectable flesh.

“These thighs have been ruining my nights ever since I saw them,” he breathed into your neck, lips ghosting over the side of it. “Couldn’t sleep because the thoughts of having them wrap around my waist won’t fucking leave me.”

He relished the tremble that overcame your body, and moved his hand to palm your ass. His gaze dropped to your hips where multiple red spots had started to bloom as a result of his feasting. God, he needed a picture of this.

“And these hips.” He hissed out a breath. “Look at how pretty they look all marked up.”

Said hips undulated over his thigh, coating his skin with your arousal. Your own thigh made contact with his stiff length and he groaned. Jimin ground his teeth together, hips jerking upwards to engage in more friction.

A loud moan left you, head rolling back over your shoulders. Jimin didn’t waste a single second before catching one of your nipples in his mouth, grip tightening on your thighs. Your moan bled out into a breathy whimper, and Jimin sucked harder, pulling you down on himself harsher.

“Stop,” you breathed out, a shaky hand coming up to rest over his chest. “Get—get inside me already, God, please, Jimin! I need you in me so bad.”

Jimin pulled you up in a flash, teeth nibbling his own lower lip as he nudged your nose with his own. Staring deep into your eyes that were thickly layered with arousal, he slowly shook his head. Your eyebrows dipped in confusion. He licked at your lower lip, holding you tighter when you shivered.

“You can have your fun riding me, later, sweetness,” he told you, voice coming out breathless and scratchy. “Right now, I really need to fuck you into this bed, really hard.”

He winked at your dropped jaw before grasping you by your waist and flipping the two of you over. He absorbed your gasp of surprise in his mouth, taking you into a bruising kiss. His hands moved to clutch at you, one at the waist and the other gripping your thigh as he situated himself between your legs. He sucked your tongue into his mouth, grabbing your tit when your back arched up to him.

His length was hard and angry and even a feathery brush against your thigh had him groaning into your mouth.

Separating from your ambrosiac lips, he brought a hand up to cup your face. “Condoms. D’you have condoms, sweetheart?”

You blinked up at him, nodding as you pointed to your right.

“Still no words, huh?” Jimin mumbled in admonition even as he turned his head to follow the general direction to your nightstand.

Immediately leaning over, he pulled at the drawer and reached in. His fingers brushed against a couple of tiny packages, and he plucked one out.

“Handy, huh,” he remarked, raising a suggestive eyebrow at you, relishing the way your cheeks pinked.

He dropped the packet on your chest.

“Help me?”

He smirked when you gulped, running a finger down the line of your throat, all the way down to your sternum, in the middle of the soft mounds of your breasts.

Looking into his eyes, you took the packet up to your lips and bit into a corner. Jimin sucked in a sharp breath when you tore it open with your teeth, the harsh foil pressing into your lips and skewing them crudely.

You rolled the condom on him with smooth swipes of your fingers over his length, and Jimin held back a shudder when you pumped him twice after you were done.

“There,” you breathed, breath audibly hitching when Jimin pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

His eyes connected with yours, one hand wrapping around your right thigh to tug it over his waist, and the other brushing over your center. He hissed when his fingers came in contact with your slick.

“You’re soaking wet, pretty baby.” His voice came out hoarse and lower than his usual pitch.

He dipped his fingers in to ensure you really were properly aroused, and he had to bite back a groan when you clenched over his digits.

“Such a greedy baby. Gripping my fingers even when she’s about to get my dick,” he sneered, pulling his finger out harshly and rubbing your wetness over his length. “Look at me when I fuck you, okay?”

“Y—es, okay.” You bit your lip, shaking underneath him. “Need you, Jimin. So so bad. Please – just, plea—oh!”

You cut off in a gasp when Jimin aligned himself with your entrance, pushing into you slowly. He looked up to find your eyes shut.

“I asked you to look at me!” he growled, glaring at you when your eyes opened. “Eyes. On me. The entire time. Understand?”

You dumbly nodded, and he brought up his hand wet with your arousal to grip at your jaw.

“How many times,” he hissed, “do I have to remind you to speak the fuck up?”

With that, he slid into you in one strong, smooth motion, bottoming out through your slippery channel. You both groaned together, and Jimin’s head fell onto your clavicle. He drew his hips back and thrust back in, shallowly.

“God, you fit me like a fucking glove, baby.”

Pressing kisses into your collarbones, he bit down when you still just moaned in response.

“I still don’t hear your words,” he grunted against your throat.

And yet, all he got from you were little gasps, in time with his slowly moving hips. The hand supporting your thigh separated from your skin, only to reconnect with a resounding slap.

“Speak up.”

You jumped, moaning with your mouth open. “I—I’m sorry – fuck – I’m sorry, Jimin, it just feels so good, baby—ah! I… I under—ah! I understand! I’ll look at you…”

He lifted himself up on his forearms to check whether you really did, and hummed in satisfaction to find your eyes on him.

“Now, was that so difficult?”

He rose to his knees, cradling both your legs around his waist as he drew back and thrust in again. Your warmth enveloped him so well, he had to clamp up all his muscles to maintain his composure.

“How are you so fucking tight, sweetheart, fuck. Squeezing me so fucking good when I just fucked you open with my fingers,” he groaned, driving his hips against yours.

Your heavenly thighs framing him was literally a dream come true and he found himself groaning at the sight of your flesh pressed up against his. Your breasts swayed in time with his thrusts, tempting him to take them into his mouth. So he did, prompting you to lock your ankles at the small of his back as he grabbed at your tits.

A lewd moan tore through your chest. “Fuck! Yes!”

Jimin picked up pace, gleaming eyes stuck on the tantalizing way your soft flesh bulges through his fingers.

"What a fucking sight, baby, fuck."

He removed one hand to press it down over your chest, looking into your barely open eyes. He snapped his hips against yours harder, grinding them when he was balls deep, and you stuttered out a broken rendition of his name.

Jimin's gaze went up to your arms that you'd crossed above your head, away and out of the way.

"What an obedient little baby, ugh," he grunted, leaning over you to lock an appreciative palm over your wrists. "Definitely deserving of a reward for this."

Your breathing grew heavier, gasps melting into little whines at the end.

Jimin licked at your nipple with the flat of his tongue, rolling it over the areola before moving up to suck bruises into your neck.

"Jimin, I—ah! Tha–thank you!" you sobbed.

He hadn't really been expecting you to respond this time, given how delirious you looked, but appreciated it all the same. Appreciated it way too much, in fact because he felt himself throb inside of you.

The hand he’d pressed down on your chest slipped over your collarbones, moving up. It wrapped around the base of your neck, his fingers and thumb pressing into either side as he squeezed a little. Your eyes widened, slowly, irises thinning even further with more arousal bleeding into your orbs.

“You like that?” he rasped, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth and grinding his pelvis against your clit.

Your lashes nearly fluttered, but you fought against shutting your eyes and never broke eye contact. “Y–yes, Jimin, it’s s–s–so goo—”

You sputtered into a muted groan under the suddenly increased pressure of Jimin’s fingers. He gripped your thigh firmly with his other hand, pushing it up against your chest and leaning over you to pound into you at a deeper angle.

Your eyes rolled back into your head, hands gripping onto the headboard. “Ji—min, fuck, fuck, fff—ungh!”

Jimin’s hand tightened over your throat, now cutting off some of your air supply and speech abilities. Your muted groans, incoherent yells, his own breathy pants and the wet, smacking sounds of skin slapping against skin filled your room.

He reached up to grip at the headrest, hand closing over one of your own, and fucked you harder, shaking the bed dangerously under the two of you. Your entire body shifted against the mattress with the force of his thrusts, your little shrieks and yelps coordinating with his movements.

Your gaze was completely unfocussed. Jimin could tell you weren’t actually looking at him even when your eyes stayed on his face. But he was looking at you. Oh, God, he was definitely looking. And saving every single inch of your gloriously fucked out self to his memory to revisit for the rest of his fucking life. He wished he could save the way you felt around him to his memory, too, because God knew he’d never felt anything like this before.

He told you as much, grips tightening over your hand around the headboard bar and your throat. You eagerly nodded back, whether in reciprocation to his sentiment or to egg him on, he didn’t know. But he went harder all the same, pulling your other leg over his shoulder, too.

“Min!” you suddenly gasped nearly unintelligibly. His eyebrows furrowed. “I–I’m—”

“Are you close, pretty?” Jimin asked, dropping a wet kiss against your lips when you nodded. “You wanna come, sweetheart?”

You eagerly nodded again, trying to say something else but making zero sense. Jimin choked you harder, making it impossible for you to even try to speak.

His eyes dropped to the place you were joined at, and he watched, transfixed, as your sopping cunt repeatedly swallowed his length. He groaned. “You’re taking me so amazingly, baby, fuck. This tiny pussy spreads so well for me…”

He let go of your throat to reach between your bodies to place his thumb on your clit, a giggle escaping him when it slipped.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby, shit. Can’t even touch you properly…”

He brought his index finger together with his thumb to pinch at your clit.

“Ahhh! Fu~ck! Jimin!”

He smirked at your rough yelps, immediately grumbling a curse when you clenched around him. “You’re so responsive, baby, shit. What an amazing girl. So good to me.”

Your eyelids fluttered at his praise, hips moving against him to meet him thrust for thrust.

“B–baby—so close—”

“Yeah? You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

You nodded, eyes slitted, but still fixed on him. “Ye–ye—ngh—yes—”

“You’re such a good girl, pretty,” he cooed, letting go of the headboard to grab one of your thighs for leverage, hips pistoning into you at an unforgivable pace. “Deserve to be,” he panted, “fucked so good, you—” he broke off, catching his breath “—you pass out, sweet baby…”

A high pitched moan tore through your chest, knuckles turning white in your tight grip at the headboard, and Jimin massaged your clit with two fingers.

“Come for me, baby. Squeeze my cock, cream all over it, fuck, come on, pretty,” he grumbled, biting his lip at the visual, and ran his nose along the line of your throat.

Your breath was coming in gasps and hiccups and Jimin could feel you gripping his length harder. He breathed out against your neck, flicking his tongue out to taste you before rising up again to look into your feverish eyes. Your nose flared with every broken inhale and breasts pushed up against his chest with every frantic jolt of your body against the headboard.

Jimin could die like this with zero complaints.

“Oh—oh, I’m gonna—Chim, baby, I’m–I’m gonna come, I—”

Your eyes finally broke contact with him, abruptly clenching shut. Your back arched and body froze for a second, and then your walls clenched him so fucking tight and you—

“Jimin, holy fu~ck-k-k-k!”

“Shit shit, you’re so tight, baby, you’ll make me—”

Your pussy spasmed around him, tightening like a vice before easing until it tightened again, and it was all Jimin could do to not profess his undying love to your cunt.

You screamed, stuttering through your words, barely even sounding like yourself, and Jimin continued to furiously drive his cock into you, his tip meeting a spot deep within you and pulling him closer and closer to his own release. Jimin watched with a gaping mouth as you fell back against the bed, his restraint fully undone.

Your eyes opened to meet his own, and arms lowered from their position. Jimin let your thighs off his shoulders, to wrap them around his waist. You hummed, face relaxed and limbs loose. Jimin dipped his head to devour your lips, letting go with a resounding smack when breathing became a trouble.

“Can I touch you?” you then murmured, voice hoarse and worn out, and he felt himself throb a little harder at the knowledge that he’d done this to you.

“Yes—ah, fuck—yes, sweetheart. Yes, you can touch me."

You shakily lowered your palms to his pectoral muscles, and Jimin hissed at the touch of your cold hands against his heated flesh. Your fingers fluttered over his nipples, the softness you eluded in contrast with the ruthless pace he was going at inside you. Jimin grunted when you scraped a nail over one of them. Then you suddenly pinched both of them between your finger and thumb and twisted at the same time, and a groan of pleasure was pulled out of him in between his gasps of exertion.

You were exhausted, though, and so your hands quickly left his chest to wrap around his torso, arms looping beneath his upper arms to grab onto his shoulders. Your lashes fluttered up at him, parted lips shiny with spit now quirking in an open mouthed smirk just as you dug your nails in, and fucking raked them down his back.

"Fu~ck, oh my God!" Jimin gasped loudly, eyes widening at your mischievous expressions.

He was gonna fucking explode without preamble. Letting you touch him was a bad idea.

One of your hands situated itself on the small of his back and the other reached up to wrap around the base of his neck. All your nails scratched at his damp skin, your eyes sparkling when Jimin’s hips faltered in their movement in response.

“You like that, baby?” you whispered in a husk, ankles locking behind his back to pull him further in, and Jimin toppled on top of you with an oomph, chest meshing into your breasts and face falling onto the bed, next to yours.

He growled, scowling when your giggles trickled into his ear.

"You fucking tease, you’re—"

He pulled out of you, and dropping both your legs off his waist, gripped your hands in one of his to tug them up. Grabbing you by your waist, he rose to his knees again and flipped you over beneath him, your yelp of surprise muffled by the pillow your face sank in.

He let go of your hands and waist, sat back on his haunches, and placed both his palms on the gorgeously delicious flare of your hips to drag your ass up. In a second, he slid home, hitting you even deeper at this angle.

The two of you moaned, and Jimin gripped your hips tight to begin a brutal pace, pounding into your weeping cunt with renewed vigour.

"Jimin! Fuck!”

Your shout was followed by you stumbling to rise on your palms, failing and landing on your elbows. He laughed menacingly, smirking at your breathless moans.

“Yes, pretty, hold yourself up like that. My pretty girl… So hardworking, so good. Yeah.”

“Yes… yes, oh my God, Jimin—ie,” you moaned, turning your face to the side so that he could see your gaping mouth, “love it, baby—”

"Yeah, baby," he panted, feeling himself lose coherence at the overwhelming carnality of this position, "I love it, too."

And he did.

The erotic sight before him was straight out of his wildest fantasies.

Your hips, those delicious hips he'd fallen in love with, unknowingly, were held tight in his grasp. Your thighs framed his own, meeting him with lewd slaps with every thrust. The butterfly tattoo between the dimples above your ass seemed to flap its wings with every roll of your ass over his dick, and Jimin had to bite back a moan at the sight of your ass cheeks jiggling with the same motion.

He delivered a smack on one, palming the tender flesh immediately. You shouted his name, head stretched far back and back arching.

Jimin cursed under his breath, letting go of your ass to wind his arms around you. He gripped at your breast, rolling a nipple under his thumb until you mewled in protest, and then slid his palm down your stomach to run his fingers around your stuffed pussy.

“Gonna come for me again?”

You violently shook your head. “No! No, Chim, I can’t, I’m—I’m too sensiti—ah!”

Jimin twirled a finger around your swollen clit, licking his lips. “Yes, you can, pretty, and you will.”

His finger worked in rhythm with his cock, slipping over your sensitive nub just as his balls slapped against your pussy.

“Jimin, too much…” you groaned, elbows giving out.

“Shh, just a little more. My pretty baby will give me another one.”

He wrapped an arm around your hips to hold you up, dipping to plant a kiss between your shoulder blades. Soon enough, your groans of protest were turning into gasps of pleasure. Jimin chuckled against your shoulder, licking a path up the back of your neck.

“Does it feel good now, baby?”

You nodded against your pillow. “So good!”

Jimin fucked into you with renewed conviction, ignoring the cramping in his forearm as he rubbed your clit, this time chasing his own high that he could feel hovering close by.

And then your walls were fluttering around him for the second time just as you sobbed curses into your mattress. Jimin’s brain went haywire at the sensations, hand falling off your clit to grip at your shoulder, his chest pressing up against your back.

“Baby,” he groaned into your neck, “I’m gonna come.”

Your breath hitched, hips making some sorry efforts to push back against him, but the coil beneath his navel tightened all the same. Topped by the sensation of your still spasming cunt, Jimin’s head swam, eyes clenching shut as the coil grew taut with tension and then—

“Fuck fuck fuck, baby, fuuuu~ck—”

The tension in his abdomen snapped, every single nerve ending in his body lighting up as he came, literally exploding with a shout of your name. Tremors overtook his body and his cock twitched, ropes of his release filling up the condom just as his brain blanked out, all sensations leaving him in the wake of the overwhelming ecstasy of his orgasm. White noise filling his ears, he collapsed on top of your body when his knees gave out.

Heavy breathing filled the room for extended minutes.

And then you coughed beneath him, an elbow nudging at his ribs.

“Chim… heavy… can’t breathe…”

He floated back to the world of living with lazy blinks of his eyes, belatedly chuckling when your words registered in his brain. With a heavy sigh, he pulled his softening dick out of you and heaved himself off you to fall on his back on the bed, next to you. His hands still lifeless, he made an effort to roll the condom off himself and tie it up. He peered over the edge of the bed to look for a dustbin, extending an arm to toss the soiled condom in it when he spotted it under your bed.

Once he had comfortably situated himself back in his lying position, he gazed at your nearly lifeless form. You were still lying on your stomach with your head turned towards him, your eyes closed and mouth parted. Jimin could tell you weren’t asleep though, despite the soft rising and falling of your back.

The reality of the situation suddenly hit him like a truck.

He fucked you.

He fucked you – his crush of over a year, the muse of his every lustful pining, the lead actress of his every sexual fantasy, his roommate, and, as of late, also the other girl he had started to lust over.

He fucked you – and you let him. Enjoyed yourself quite a bit too, as far as he could tell.

He finally fulfilled his dream of over a year, holy shit, and it was so fucking good! Better than his expectations!

You suddenly cleared your throat, and Jimin blinked away his mental fistpump.

Your eyes were now open and trained on him. He couldn’t help his answering smirk, rolling onto his side to face you, a hand coming up to rest on the curve of your hips that he had finally had the opportunity to claim. Your cheeks reddened at his action, and his smirk widened a bit.

“So…” he began, biting down on his bottom lip.

“So…?”

He laughed at how awkward you were being.

“So that was fucking fantastic, sweetheart, you’re a sex goddess,” he finished with a roll of his eyes, still chuckling when you scrunched your nose up.

“It most certainly was, Chim,” you mumbled, humming with a smile.

You slowly turned over your side, too, to face him properly. His eyes automatically fell to the globes of your breasts, his smile turning sheepish when you flicked his forehead.

“And you’re a sex god yourself, if we’re really gonna get into it.”

Jimin just smiled at you, too sated and comfortable to stir up anymore conversation, content by just watching the post-orgasmic flush on your face.

You cleared your throat again, gazing away from him. Jimin laughed.

“You can look at me, I don’t mind.”

You snorted. “Of course you don’t, you cocky bastard.”

Jimin quirked an eyebrow when you met his eyes again. “Well, I sure am cocky, ain’t I?”

You gasped in outrage, smacking a palm against his chest which he caught in his own to hold in place. Your face turned serious, gaze dropping to his lips, and he sidled closer to you to brush his nose against yours.

“Chim,” you breathed, rubbing your lips against his, and he responded with a stuttered hum. “Can we… um. Are we gonna do this again?”

He reared away from you in surprise. “Uh…”

Your face fell, eyebrows furrowing, and you sat up, turning away from him. “I—I was just, um… offering? I guess? We totally don’t have to, I—”

Jimiin cut you off with an arm curled around your abdomen. “Come here, you idiot.”

You turned to look at him with wide eyes, and he sat up to face you, sliding close enough to press his chest against your side, consciously not letting his eyes stray beneath your face.

“I was taken aback because I assumed that this would be a regular thing, by default, babe,” he honestly confessed. “I mean, I'm gonna admit… I’ve slept around a lot. More than I should’ve, probably. But the fire you light in me? Yeah, I’ve never felt that before. And now that I have felt it up close, I wanna feel more of it.”

You were shyly biting down on your bottom lip by the time he finished talking, and Jimin couldn’t fathom how you changed into this irresistibly demure girl under his praise when you were a sassy, sexually over-expressive individual on the normal. Not to say he minded, because he liked it. A lot.

“And I’ve kinda wanted to do this with you for a while now, please don’t kill me,” he admitted in a single breath, looking at you with apprehension until your wide eyes reassured him that you weren’t offended.

“I kinda figured that one out already. You talked about having imagined a lot,” you reminded him, and he gave you an unabashed shrug, somewhat surprised you’d retained his passionate confessions.

But then you had him freezing.

“And you’re good, Park. I’d be a hypocrite to kill you when it’s been kinda the same for me,” you said with a casual shrug of your shoulders. “Minus, of course, the sleeping around more than I shou—”

“Wait, wait – what?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You said it’s the same for you—what?”

You squinted at him, huffing out a small, incredulous chuckle. “You seriously don’t have a clue, do you?”

Jimin squinted back. “Clue? About what?”

You looked at him with a torn expression slowly spreading over your face. “I didn’t really plan on bringing this up directly. Ever, if it didn’t come to it. But… guess you’re more oblivious than I thought.”

Jimin thickly swallowed, kind of able to guess where you were headed with this and unable to believe it was happening.

“Well… I had this gigantic crush on you when I moved in,” you mumbled, pulling both your lips into your mouth.

Jimin stopped breathing. You really—?

“What?”

You winced. “I know, I know, it was horrible. But, come on, Park. You’ve looked in a mirror. You know you’re a fucking catch. The first few weeks with you were torture. I’d seen you shirtless a couple of times, and… my mind wasn’t ready to forget that.”

Jimin was sure he was dreaming, at this point. The mindblowing sex had really been a fever dream. He subtly pitched himself, jolting when it hurt.

No, he wasn’t dreaming.

Fuck. Fuck yes! What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you ever say anything, babe?” he mumbled, sounding breathy even to his own ears.

“I – I tried to give you subtle signs, planning to come on to you when I was sure you were reciprocating. Because, as I got to know you, I realized that the attraction wasn’t worth sacrificing our friendship for, and so I didn’t approach you directly.”

Jimin sucked in a harsh breath, shocked at how perfectly your side of the story aligned with his.

“Well, obviously your subtle hints were way too subtle,” he murmured, a little annoyed at fate.

You shot him a glare. “Jimin. Are you serious? I gave up the sorority to live with you!”

Jimin gaped at you, caging you in his arms to put his face next to yours. He narrowed his eyes. “No. You got rejected because you failed an exam and—”

“Oh, my God, Chim! Are you really that naive?” You rolled your eyes with a self-conscious laugh, but something akin to adoration shone on your face. “All those eligibility rules are just on paper! Srats and frats don’t actually reject people that harshly.” You brushed a kiss against his lips, and his breath stuttered. “Besides, I didn’t actually fail that exam, Park.”

Jimin pulled back from you with a loud gasp. “What? Oh, my God—babe! How the hell was I supposed to figure that one out?”

You gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah, alright, that was a tough one. But what about all those tales of my escapades I forced you to listen to? Did you think I was some sort of a closet exhibitionist or something?”

Jimin’s cheeks warmed. He sat back again, shrugging a shoulder. “Well, I don’t kink shame.”

You laughed aloud at that, shaking your head. “I just kept hoping, day after day, for that one fine moment when your resolve would weaken and you’d react. Maybe pull me in for a kiss? Or, at the very least, show me a sign that you were bothered by those talks? But no! You just sat back like a darn wingman, and never showed any interest. The only crack I saw was last night, and even then you didn’t revolt over me talking about sucking a random guy’s dick! You didn’t even try to ask who the guy was!”

Jimin shook his head. “It was very difficult, on all occasions but especially last night, I assure you. But I didn’t wanna come off as a pervert and have you run out of the house.”

“That would never have happened.” You bit your lip. “Gosh. We could’ve really been doing this a year ago!”

“Damn. That’s a lot of wasted time, shit.” Jimin exhaled, still reeling. It suddenly came back to him. “Was the Taehyung thing meant to rile me up, too, or…?”

Guilt spread on your face, cheeks flushing. You shook your head and Jimin gaped at you.

“That was pretty real, I’m afraid. I—hey, don’t give me that look! I was pretty frustrated, okay? You weren’t budging from being a good friend, I was getting kinda desperate here.”

Jimin still scowled at you. “You sent him nudes, ma’am. The biggest fuckboy on the entire campus has your nudes. And he obviously doesn’t have any qualms sharing them with people; exhibit a – me.”

You worried your bottom lip with your teeth. “Well, they don’t have my face, so…”

“And thank God for that! Or I’d have to hack into the fucker’s phone to burn them out of existence!”

A teasing smile crawled up your face. “Look at you getting all protective and shit after having sex once, huh?”

Jimin stiffened, worried he’d overstepped. Your eyes widened, too, and you hurried to shake your head.

“Not – not in that sense! I’m not proposing a relationship—” You cut yourself off with a wince. “I mean, not yet—” You cut yourself off again when his eyes widened, before giving up. “You know what? I’m just gonna shut up.”

Jimin shook with silent laughter. You huffed, petulantly, grabbing your t-shirt from the edge of the bed to toss it over your body.

“Hey, listen,” Jimin called out, pulling both your hands in his, “let me help you sort things out?” At your timid nod, he smiled. “I liked what we did. A lot. And I’d like to do more of it. A lot more of it. We good so far?”

You chuckled, looking away from him. “Yes.”

“Great. Next, I think it’s too soon to be jumping into a relationship. But I may be open to it in future,” he tentatively continued, eyes stuck to yours.

You exhaled at his words, face flooding with what looked like relief. You gave him a nod. “Yes. Yes, that. Exactly that.”

“So, we’re on the same page then?”

“The same sentence, too.”

Jimin felt his own inhibitions lower at your enthusiastic tug at his hands. This didn’t feel awkward, at all. This felt good.

So good. Wow.

Your gaze dropped to his crotch, surprising him. But instead of feeling self-conscious, he felt like teasing you.

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “The same sentence, you say? Is it, perhaps, a question that begins with ‘what about’ and ends with ‘a second round’?”

Your cheeks puffed out in an attempt to contain your laughter. “It does, as a matter of fact. Followed by an all-caps ‘yes’, and an asterixed clause saying ‘I get to be on top, this time’.”

Jimin broke down into fits of uncontrollable laughter, falling into your lap, and you followed suit, tilting to a side on the bed.

God. You were the same level of crack-headed as him. This was gonna go so well, fuck. He couldn’t wait.

Jimin glanced at the clock on your nightstand when you were both sufficiently calmed, turning to grin at you. “It’s been over an hour since you were due for your video call. Taehyung must be losing his mind.”

Your brows arched in surprise. “Oh, I completely forgot about that!”

Jimin licked his lips, pulling you over his lap. “Uh huh. That’s really good to know.”

You eyed his lips. “I’m just gonna block him. He won’t even miss me. Bet he’ll get over it in a day.”

“I support that action.”

Going by the way he’d drooled over you, it might take the guy longer than a day. But Jimin was positive it won’t be longer than a week.

“So, about that asterixed clause,” Jimin began in a murmur, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“Yes?” you responded with your eyes gleaming in excitement.

Jimin bit his lip. “I support that action, too.”

With a squeal, you rushed to pull your t-shirt off, and Jimin would’ve laughed at your enthusiasm if he wasn’t moaning at the sight of your sexy body that he really couldn’t get enough of.

The next time Jimin saw Taehyung was for the psych class on Monday.

True to character, he was already drooling over someone else. And dude was so lost exploring the slew of nudes he received to pick out a candidate to spend the night with, that he didn't even notice Jimin’s own barely concealed groans as he looked at the Snaps you’d sent him.

“Park, man, I think I’m in love.”

Jimin blinked away from the picture of your pussy glimpsing past the new thong you’d bought, with a ‘what sentence we on today?’ written over it, and hurriedly locked his phone. Taehyung was longingly staring at his own phone screen when he turned to face the guy.

“You’re what?”

Taehyung clicked his tongue. “Gosh, man, that fucking ass—ugh!”

Jimin rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You’re in love with her ass?”

“His. His ass. Says his name’s Yeon Kimin. Weird, but I ain’t tryna marry him. But dude, those pasty fucking globes—oh my God…”

Jimin smoothly tuned the guy’s lustful musings out to focus on his phone. Unlocking it, he discreetly placed it beneath the table to open Snapchat and click a picture of himself with his lower lip tucked between his teeth and an eyebrow raised. He quickly typed a ‘we replacing that thong with these lips, obv’ over it and hit send.

You typed back a response, this time, a blue bubble appearing in his notifications.

not just a roomie👅 storage room behind the photo studio in ten PLEASE

Save the begging for later, sweetheart ;) Meet you in 5

Jimin locked his phone and picked up his bag to slink out of the classroom, smirking at Taehyung’s raised eyebrows. The guy sent back a dirtier smirk, mouthing ‘get it, soldier’ with a wink and a thumbs up.

God, what a guy.

Jimin ran out with a skip in his steps, full of excitement and energy, now that his nights were actually full of sleep and not visions of you. They didn’t have to be, when his days were already full of the real you, did they?

Nope.

I don't wanna take you nowhere; I don't wanna waste your time. Baby girl, won't you come my way? Baby girl, won't you come for me~

taglist: @shrimpmsg @jimidol @lorenakaspersen @lonleycoffee @trillradiance @loeyprivvv @sweeneyblue1@ownthesunshine @dxlbts @dxlbts @dreamsindreamss @writtenwhalienreads @codeinebelle @chimchoom @chimchoom @brit97 @seggsymccnugget (couldn’t tag ’cause the blog is blank!)

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