Jimin x Reader | Winter Time Angst | Warnings: sadness and really terrible writing, I tried
Jimin stands in front of his bathroom mirror, his cellphone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear as he listens to you intently.
“So...what are you wearing?”
“You’re so childish,” your laughs mingle through the phone and you breathe a sigh, “I’m actually wearing that dress you bought me before you left.”
“You’re legs are gonna suffer from frostbite,” he teases. His warm laughter fills your ear when he hears you curse under your breath and you smile. It’s been awhile since you two enjoyed a relaxed conversation like this. Now that he was home from tour, (in his own words), you had him all to yourself. “It really does suck that it snowed earlier, though,” he mutters and frowns. “Now it’s all wet and cold on our first date back together.”
You can hear him subtly spray himself with cologne.
“Well, I’m actually not complaining.”
“And why’s that?”
“It just gives me an excuse to do a lot more cuddling with you,” you divulge with a small smirk. He sucks in a deep breath silently as his chest swells; he’s at a lost for words while he thinks of something cheesy to reply. But, you end up taking advantage of his silence, “Unless you don’t want to?”
“Of course I want to!” He blurts out and you chuckle at his enthusiasm. Then, he murmurs affectionately, “I also expect a kiss for every day I was gone.”
“We’ll see,” is all you say, and he bites his lip before drying the rest of his torso. Such a tease.
“I cannot wait until I come to get you.”
You purse your lips at his words and ponder for a moment.
“Jimin, I wanna pick you up for once,” your soft voice proposes jokingly a few seconds later and the statement is followed by a thoughtful giggle from your boyfriend, “What so funny, huh?”
He hums while cutting off the sink and tossing his damp towel into a hamper across the room, “That's my job as your sweet, cute boyfriend that you love more than anyone else.”
“Is that so? You’re reaching a bit there,” your voice oozes in sarcasm and he scoffs playfully. “But what wrong with changing things up? Maybe this time I can be your sweet, cute girlfriend that you love more than anyone who comes and get’s you for once.”
Oddly, he can tell you’re not joking this time and it throws him of. He hesitates before speaking.
“I would feel too bad making someone as beautiful as you chauffeur me around,” he huffs and goosebumps line his skin while he searches through his mess of a drawer for a t-shirt to throw on. For a split second, Jimin wishes he was back in the shower. He goes on quickly, “Besides, I’m not completely sure it’s safe out there, so I’ll be the stunt driver.”
“Alright, alright,” you roll your eyes at his persistence even though you know he can’t see.
The next few minutes is spent with Jimin giggling and whispering sweet-nothings through the phone while trying on an array of button ups. When he finds one he’s pleased with, he smiles to himself in the mirror and thinks about your hands unbuttoning it later…he misses the feeling of you in his arms in general. He misses everything about you.
Jimin falls onto his bed gently and gazes up at the ceiling of his room, sighing contently.
“Everything okay?” you mumble on the other end of the phone.
“I’ve just really missed you,” he tells you truthfully, “I’ve been looking forward to this day for a while.”
“So have I,” you muse and then your mouth begins rambling, “Your texts and calls are nice and all, but hearing that giggle in person makes me wish you’d never stop laughing or smiling or being happy in general.”
His cheeks feel unbearably warm from your words and he groans, “Yah, stop being so mushy, you’re making me blush.”
“That’s always my goal, knucklehead,” you sing triumphantly. Your pride is cut short when you start to work on your hair. The phone is filled with irritated grunts left and right, and Jimin can’t help but pffttt with laughter.
“Jagiya, what in the world…”
“I’m struggling with hair that doesn’t want to cooperate,” you complain and he hears you squeak on the phone when the edge of your hand catches the curling iron. “Goddamit!”
“It sounds like the hair is winning,” he chuckles. “But you finish that fight to the death. I’ll be over in a bit, as soon as I finish getting dressed. It’ll feel like the quickest 15 minutes ever before I’m kissing you again.”
“Take your time, the roads are slippery,” you say reassuringly. He can feel your warm smile radiate on the other end of the phone. “I love you.”
“I love you too, so much,” he hums and you two splutter out goodbyes before the conversation ends.
A few seconds later, he’s pulling on a pair of pants and mumbling an encouraging mantra to himself that he will make you believe those words. He can’t fight the goofy grin that plasters his face while he gets ready.
--
Traffic is slower than usual. Jimin gnaws on his lip as his patience dwindles, the heavy line of cars going from a promising, decent pace of inching-forward-every-few-seconds to a complete halt. He curses under his breath when his eyes flicker to the time: 20 minutes late already. His chest aches when he thinks about you, sitting alone in your apartment, needlessly waiting on him to arrive. What kind of boyfriend was he, being late to your first date in 4 months? It takes him a moment to calm himself and his perturbed heart before he simply works himself out of his seatbelt enough to swipe his phone from his pants pocket. His fingers immediately go to unlocking it and hitting the first number on his call log, always. It rings once...twice...three times...no answer. Jimin sighs and tries convince himself maybe you were still getting ready, and maybe being late was blessing rather than a curse. When he hears your sweet voice sing out a brief apology over your voicemail, he smiles. It never ceases to amaze him that even just hearing your voicemail, something he's heard thousands of times within the last few months with bouts of international phone tag and asynchronous time zones, can still make his heart thump against his chest like an arrhythmic chant. When the beep finally comes he realizes he's been holding his breath. He exhales louder than he means to into the phone, then clears his throat bashfully.
“Um hey babe,” he begins anxiously as traffic progresses a little more, “I just wanted to let you know I'm running a little late. There are sirens, I think, so it might be an accident blocking the road. I'll be there as soon as I can, okay? If you're still getting ready...stop worrying, I'm sure you look beautiful as always...Ah,” he trips on his words a bit and laughs, “Um...so yeah I'll see you soon. I love you. Bye.”
As he ends the message quickly, traffic moves even more, and he eyes a brief opening where he can pull into another lane and take a back road to avoid all the back-up instead.
He takes it, even if the snow is a little thicker than he'd like.
Not too far from where he veered away from the traffic, Jimin’s eyes wander off the road at bright lights dancing in the middle of another part of the area. He can't really see the display or street they're coming from as he passes by quickly in an attempt to speed through the neighborhood to your residence, but they easily catch his eye. He makes note of how pretty the red and yellow and blue and white lights look as they flash, as if competing against the sparkle of the stars at night like this. He thought about the fun the people must be having at that party.
He’s always liked city lights, the way it showed the city wasn't at rest.
--
When he gets to your street, the nerves begin setting in. It never fails him; he always seems to get nervous on dates with you. He can never tell whether it’s eagerness or anxiety, but he figures that’s what makes it worth it, because in the end he still loves you enough to be excited, and he loves that feeling. He hated that the feeling was dulled slightly by the fact he was late. Better late than never, though, he figures. His hands reach into the passenger seat for a bouquet of flowers he bought earlier in the day because he wanted you to understand just how special and important this date was to him. Albeit, he had asked for roses and the man sold him daisies instead...it was still the thought behind the gesture that counted, right? When Jimin finally gets closer to your residence, he slows the car a bit. There was an idle patrol car sitting right outside your porch. He knits his eyebrows as he pulls up gradually and parks a little ways behind it. Grasping the daisies a bit tighter in his sweaty palms, he hides them behind his back and ambles to your front door, the strange car ultimately shoved to the back of his mind. He knocks and waits patiently, chewing on his lip again out of anxiousness to see your face when he shows you the flowers. He can feel his heart nearly beat out of his chest at the thought of seeing your smile after so many months. He wants to press the bell again but he doesn’t want to seem too eager. It’s not like you or your roommate to take so long with the door, though.
Maybe she didn’t get my message, he thinks to himself quickly.
Your roommate opens the door a couple moments later.
He feels his stomach tighten when he sees her distressed, roughly wiping her wet face with the sleeves of her shirt. A police officer hangs on the sideline of the couch inside the apartment and his face eyes remains focused on Jimin as the boys turns back to the weeping aforementioned.
“What’s--” he whispers. He can't finish his sentence before his hands begin trembling. The look in her eyes is regretful and saddening and he doesn’t know how to stop the forlorned feeling washing over him, but it keeps growing and it’s unbearable.
“Jimin…” she begins, settling herself enough to speak straight, “She went to go get you. She wanted to surprise you.” She chokes up for a moment, “But someone ran a red light and he couldn't stop fast enough on the ice–”
Jimin’s fingers drop the bouquet and instead bolt to cover his face in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. His heart slams into his rib cage repeatedly as chest tightens with ache; he can't breathe. It’s an uncomfortable sight makes the atmosphere grow grim with every passing second.
“Sh--” he can't even finish as he feels himself nearly choke; inhaling so harshly that his chest burns with anguish. Why won't his lungs take in air? “Shit.”
He whimpers the word over and over again to himself, and the self-berating escalates in volume because he can feel himself losing control. Where was his composure? Where was the man he had talked himself up to be all day? It was a lost cause in the view of the circumstances. When he removes his hands from his face, his eyes fall to his quivering palms; his crisp, white sleeves are soaked all the way through, and he realizes he's sobbing uncontrollably. Jimin’s hiccups are the only thing thwarting the stillness of the room as your roommate gently pulls him inside and holds him in her arms tightly.
Two more officers stroll up to the open front door and knock quietly. The interruption of the tense silence nearly startles them both, and their attention is immediately placed on them. One officer ends up staying back while the other enters the house silently. He completely disregards the officer already present in the room and looks to the two with solemnity. The subtle look of pity in his eyes makes Jimin feel sick to his stomach. He shakes his head before the man can even speak, unable to look him in the face. Your roommate inhales shakily.
“Officer,” she acknowledges. She struggles to introduce herself and Jimin as the officer’s face remains stagnant and his jaw sets tensely.
“They...tried very hard,” he begins. Jimin’s hands rakes themselves in his hair and he pulls gently, trying to calm himself. But how can you find peace when the inevitable is mocking you right in your face? His lips quiver after he feels another onset wave of nausea and a pull of tears hit him harshly. He wants to release the ugly string of obscenities he’s been suppressing in his throat. “She didn’t even make it to the hospital…”
Hot tears seem to flee his eyes so quickly that his vision goes murky and he shakes his head even more furiously, refusing to believe the officer. Everyone can see his heart break right in front of them, piece after piece smashed into an ache he didn’t know existed.
“Please,” he begs him silently, the trepidation inside of him strangely remedied by confirmation. Yet the pain that replaces it is nothing to be thankful for. “Please, this isn’t…”
“He cheated on you ____,” he says before sitting on the edge of your bed with a sore grunt. His body aches and he’s dirty but it doesn’t matter. He was more worried about you after you tried to break things up.
“But Taehyung, your eye,” you touch your fingers to his bruising and frown when he winces slightly. It’s getting darker by the minute and it’s all your fault; you shouldn’t have come to him about it. Maybe then Tae wouldn’t have tried to fight him. You press the ice to it gently before sighing. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt over my problem.”
You gaze at the scratches and bruises that litter him, wiping them gently with a cold wash cloth.
“It’s okay, I’m used to it…”
Your hands stop at his words. His voice is hoarse and the tenderness behind it makes your stomach churn. You feel guilty.
You’re silent before you mumble and ask, “Used to what?”
The corners of his mouth curve into an apprehensive smile while he plays with his anxious fingers.
“Fighting for opportunities I know I have no chance of getting,” he replies quietly and you gaze at him, discomfort washing over your face. Does he mean...
“Tae…”
“It’s okay,” he says and he smiles wider for your sake; he doesn’t want to see you frown anymore. You take the ice from him and set it off to the side before gazing back into his eyes. His smile actually fades and he can’t look you straight in the face. “I-I’m sorry.”
The silence lasts for a few still seconds before he feels your lips press to his in a timid kiss. He’s confused when you pull away.
Yoongi made a valiant effort to show up to your job today. He didn’t care about the rainy outside or the way the man at the store gave him daisies instead of the roses he asked for while he was in a rush; he needed to tell you today. All of his friends had convinced him that if he didn’t say something to you soon, you were going to end up with someone else, and it bothered him. Especially after he say you sharing eyes with some other guys in class today, God.
So here he was, at the front counter of your job, halfway across town, with soaking wet off-white daisies and a suppressed smile. His nerves were getting the best of him.
After a bit of small talk (since there were little to no customers) he sets the flowers on the counter and takes a deep breath.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Alright. Is something wrong, Yoongi?” Your eyes glance at him while you continue wiping the register down.
“I wanted to know if you wanted to go out with me,” he finally says and he can feel his chest swelling with anxiety when you just stare at him blankly. He starts speaking quickly, his words jumbling together. Maybe he came off to blunt… “I mean like we’re friends and all but I just really like you a lot and I know you’re working a lot but I really want to take you out sometime if that’s okay with you…”
There is so much silence
“No, Yoongi...I can’t,” you say in a slow quiet voice. His his whole body is frozen but he stares back at you as if you two were having a normal conversation. “I...only want to be your friend...I’m sorry. I don’t see you that way…”
“I didn’t like you anyway,” he murmurs to your surprise and then forces a laugh and smiles, “It was just a stupid dare from my friends. I wasn’t really asking you out, sheesh. I wouldn’t do something that ridiculous.”
You laugh nervously at his banter and reach across the counter to nudge him in the arm playfully. He feels stiff at your touch but his face is telling you otherwise. You brush it off and return his smile genuinely.
“Of course, you’d do something like that to me,” you grumble and roll your eyes jokingly. You shake your head and your laughter knocks all the air out of his chest. “Hilarious. Yoongi-yah you’re too much.”
He takes a deep breath and chuckles as best he can, “Heh, yeah.” His head hurts and he can’t bring himself to pick the flowers back up. He leaves them lying on the counter, and begins walking backwards slowly, “I’m gonna go so I can stop distracting you for your work.”
“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
But by the time you look back up he’s already gone out the door. He leaves the store with his normal cool and collected look on his face that earns a chuckle from you before you go back to cleaning.
His brows furrow intently when his hand feels wet and he realizes that it’s not even raining anymore, but tears are spilling freely off his cheeks onto himself. He didn’t even realize he was crying until his chest heaves with a shaky breath. But it’s okay, he keeps telling himself in his mind over and over again, he didn’t even like you anyway.
Jimin x Reader | Angst, Smut, and a lil Fluff (I know guys I’m sorry) | 7.1k words
Happy New Year everyone~! You guys have been anticipating it, so here it is. Drunk Jimin Make-Up Sex ;; Start 2016 off right, yeah? This is like my second smut ever, I’m not a smut writer, so please show me some sympathy. I like criticism, so please tell me your thoughts after you read (:
|Admin Raine|
It takes a few minutes of you procrastinating and telling yourself you shouldn’t be out before your hand finally turns your keys and shut the car off. You peer at your cellphone for the time. It’s 15 minutes after the original meeting time, and you grimace at yourself in the reflection when it turns off. The longer you wait and they’re gonna think you’re not coming. You figure Jimin must already think you wouldn’t show up in the first place, that is, if he had even come himself. This little get-together had already been planned for weeks, you had even helped pick out the place. The whole reason he even agreed to go to this club with the boys and you tonight was because you convinced him to. You had planned to dance with your boyfriend, to drink, have fun, and let him see that he could have a good time. The argument you two had a few days ago? No. That was not in any of your plans. A slightly irritated sigh leaves your lips when you think about the way things always seem to deviate off course for you. Worst case scenario, there would be an awkward air around the table when you join them. If you drank a little more than usual, maybe it would help ease your nerves and ease the tension. Inhaling briefly you get out of your car, and head into the club without any further hesitation.
The moment you enter the club the whole atmosphere overwhelms you. You think about turning back, but your feet continue to push you forward as you make your way past people. You slowly amble to the back of the place where the tables are, glancing around every now and then for a recognizable face. They should be--
“You made it,” you hear Namjoon’s voice call out happily before you even spot your group of friends. Your eyes immediately spot the back of Jimin’s head in the booth and you start to debate with yourself whether coming was still a good idea. It’s too late to turn back now, you tell yourself halfheartedly, encouraging yourself. You see his head turn to acknowledge whoever Namjoon is greeting, but the moment your eyes meet he freezes up. His eyes are a little wide upon seeing you, but he quickly turns back around and looks ahead somewhere else, maintaining his semi-calm composure. Inside of him, his lungs are tight and it takes him a moment to fill them with air again. Jimin is torn from his thoughts when Namjoon taps on the table to catch his attention.
“Huh?”
“Scoot over,” Namjoon repeats to him quickly, motioning your way. Jimin looks up and meets eyes with you once again before he obeys, not even realizing you reached the table. You slide into the booth beside him apprehensively and sigh.
Yoongi makes a sour face at the two of you being next to him and then laughs.
“Just don't be gross and make out beside me or something,” he complains sarcastically and you let out a short, abrupt laugh that holds a lot more ache in it than you realize.
“Don’t worry,” you say quietly and give him a small smile, “We definitely won’t.”
You can feel Jimin’s eyes linger on you for a few seconds, analyzing your unbothered features before he follows suit and gives the boys a stiff chuckle as well. His jaw sets uncomfortably at the meaning behind your words and he hides it well by fiddling with his phone and staying silent.
It’s a familiar look.
Your mind replays the last time you saw him with a face filled with so much discontent...
_______________________
The last few weeks, Jimin’s health worried you immensely. His insecurities about his body and his usefulness became more and more apparent when he stopped eating as much and sleep became an unimaginable concept to him. For him, nothing he was doing was enough to bring the results he wanted, and it showed in the way he began treating himself. Your concern, whenever you voiced it, worked sometimes in shaking him from whatever he was doing to instead take care of himself. You concentrate on this thoroughly while you make him something to eat; it was one of those days. As he’s on your mind, you hear another dissatisfied, aggravated groan come from down the hall, followed by a handful of incoherent cursing. You listen for moment before deciding to go check on him. You peek inside his little homemade gym and find him with his face in his hands. He takes a deep breath as if he’s trying to wake himself up and then picks up a weight near his foot and begins exercising again. Your nerves debate with yourself on whether to interrupt him or not, and you decided to go for it, hoping you’ll be able to convince him to stop for a little bit.
“Jimin-ah, I think it’s time you take a break,” you tell him quietly. You heart is slamming against your chest like a rock and you’re hesitant to enter the room. Why am I so nervous to talk to him? you think. He doesn’t move or speak at your words and you inhale deeply, trying to ease your nerves. “I made you lunch?”
“Not hungry.”
That is all he mutters before he goes to pick up a heavier weight.
“You need to eat or else you’re gonna get sick.”
“So you’re a doctor now, huh?” he asks incredulously, turning his head toward you and gazing at you intently. You almost feel like he’s...glaring at you? His tone is much harsher than you’ve received from him before and it makes your stomach feel a little uneasy.
“That’s not what I--”
“Just leave. I’ll eat later. I‘m busy.”
As much as you don’t want to be stubborn, you enter the room and he glances up at the ceiling, narrowing his lips irritatedly. You take another deep breath before speaking your mind.
“I think it’s best you take a break and eat something, now. You’re working yourself too hard and obviously you’re stressing yourself out. It’s not gonna kill you to take ten measly minutes Jimin-ah.”
"I know I need a goddamn break, what I don’t need is you telling me what you think is best for me, okay?"
Your eyebrows furrow at him intently as he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. At this point he won’t even look you in the face, but the familiar way he sets his jaw tells you he’s getting annoyed with you, and that’s not your intention. You’ve dealt with frustrated Jimin before, when he does not achieve the things he wants or when he overworks himself as a result. You know he’s tired and stressed out, and you try not to take the things he’s saying to heart, but it’s definitely not that easy.
“Jimin, I’m just trying to--”
“I don’t need your help,” he interjects once again and you feel like your words are becoming more and more irrelevant. “I didn’t ask for your help. Let me do it by myself for once. You always get involved in stuff that has nothing to do with you. I don’t need to eat, I don’t need to rest--I need to work. And all you’re doing is help distract me.”
There are hot tears brimming in your eyes, but your flustered face remains unmoving as you stare back at him with a questionable intensity.
“I’m not gonna ever stop helping or worrying about you Jimin. I’m your girlfriend, that’s what I’m here for,” you tell him in an attempt to be assertive, but of course it’s downplayed by the tears spilling onto your cheeks, your face still unchanging, “I’m not gonna let you exhaust yourself either, I hope you understand that.”
"God, can’t you just fucking get off my back for once?!" his tense voice grows even louder and it echos in the room. He snatches up his jacket, pulling it on quickly before shoving his wallet in his pocket. He slips past you and leaves the room before you can say anything in reply. An unsettling slam on his way out of the house makes you flinch and you finally wipe your flustered face.
______________________________
Since then, he hadn’t been home in 4 days.
You figured he’d been staying at the boys’ dormitory instead; maybe to cool off or to continue his “work” without you “bothering him”. Who knew. And aside from a few missed phone calls and an unresponded text asking if you were ignoring him, you two had not spoken to each other since the argument. It would definitely explain why he kept throwing casual glances at you while you spoke to the other boys. You caught him gazing at you multiple times throughout listening to some of the boys’ stories and banter. The others were nothing less than oblivious to the awkwardness between you two since you had shown up. And oddly enough, they sat you two right beside each other in the booth when you first got there.... You figured that meant the boys didn’t seem to know--or at least Jimin hadn’t told them--that you two had an argument at all. Truth be told, you wouldn’t even so much as be there at the club if you didn’t have to. But seeing that the boys clearly didn’t know what had gone on between the two of you in the last few days, you felt it might be for the best that you not make matters worse and drag them in it. Jimin obviously didn’t want them to know. It’s easier to pretend than to face the truth, as they say.
It takes a while but Jimin finally decides to speak to you when the others are seemingly preoccupied in themselves. He keeps his hands in his lap so no one knows they’re shaking, but there’s a solemn look in his eyes that could fool anyone watching.
“You haven’t been using your phone a lot lately,” he states this more as an accusation than a question, but his eyes glance at you curiously. Almost like he expects an answer. You don't answer him; instead you merely take another sip of your water, staring off into another direction while you purse your lips.
You see him tense up at his failed attempt to start a conversation between you two, but he just sighs and taps his fingers on the table gently to calm his nerves. Among all the laughing and wild conversation happening around you in the booth, between the two of you there is silence. You don't hear him speak again until the heavyweight drinks start rolling out, after they've done a formal cheers of course.
As you had decided before, you drink along with the others, Jin being the only one at the table not engaging since apparently he was voted earlier to be the designated driver.
“Is this straight vodka?” Jimin grimaces and asks after a few minutes, swirling remnants around in a nearly emptied glass, “It burns.”
Yoongi laughs and swipes the glass from him deftly before setting it back on the table. Jimin pouts.
“Yes knuckle-head, so slow down before you hurt yourself,” he tells him before shoving him playfully in the arm. He goes to pour some of Jin’s soda in Jimin’s next glass but his dongsaeng stops him quickly and tells him he’ll be responsible and drink them slower.
He finishes three in the half hour.
Namjoon drunkenly orders enough shots to satisfy two tables worth of people before anyone can stop him. He claims it’s to help loosen the atmosphere and to help everyone have more fun, but he’s obviously eyeing up some girl across the room that he’s trying to impress. You’re not oblivious to Jimin’s handful of empty glasses either. He’s been like that the entire night, nonchalantly choking down this liquor, and it bothers you a little. But at this point, you’re too preoccupied with yourself not getting too drunk to worry about him.
“Hyung, pass me another,” your eyes follow Jimin as he’s handed another glass before he even drinks the one he already has. The first one is gone in the blink of an eye and you see his eyes tear up a little bit. You wanna tell him to slow down, but you remember what happened the last time you tried to help him, and just remain silent.
Namjoon brows raise in awe at the boy when pink starts dusting Jimin’s cheeks and he's breathing again.
“You sure you wanna keep throwing them back like that?” he asks him remarkably but Jimin is already coughing roughly, face bright red and flustered after the burn of the next shot he dumped in his mouth. Namjoon pats his back gently and chuckles. “Alrighty then.”
“What number shot is that?” Jin rubs the back of his neck uneasily while he speaks.
Hoseok laughs while counting the glasses, “Four.”
“You’re fucking nuts,” Yoongi murmurs while shaking his head, but the corners of his mouth don't match his pitiful disposition. “And you're fucking grabbing another?”
“Can't let free booze go to waste.” That familiar infectious giggle comes out of Jimin after he says this and it makes you smile and laugh a little yourself. He takes notice while a fresh shot glass is still pressed to his lips and peers at you from behind it, his brown eyes giving you a coy gaze. There's a subtle smirk playing at his lips and you roll your eyes. You wouldn't admit it, but it makes your heart beat a little faster while you take another shot glass and buck it back.
After a while, you become reluctant to drinking anymore of the hard alcohol. Your throat is parched from the handful of shots you took and you would've asked Jin for some of his drink but his soda has been empty since he started watching Jimin booze himself up. You ultimately decide to get up and go satisfy the itch at the bar, by yourself. It was on the other side of the room, but it would be a harmless trip to and from; you just had to make it across the dancefloor.
“Where are you going?” Hoseok asks quickly when he sees you slide out of the booth and stand shakily.
“To the bar,” you tell him and then begin to walk towards the crowd. “I need a soda or something. I'll be back.”
After a while of failed attempts to push your way through people, you give up trying to get through to the bar and begin to see if you can find your way back to your booth. But...shit...which way did you come from? Damnit....You can feel yourself being pushed and shoved from all different directions and decide to duck into the nearest open space you spot, then stand up as high as you can on your tiptoes to try and see over people. Hoseok said earlier that he was gonna dance after a while, right? Maybe he followed in after you. Maybe he was somewhere in this mess. You search for any familiar face but you can't find a single one of the boys at all. The longer you're stuck, the more you realize you're stuck in an overcrowded area that smells like musk and booze, strangers eagerly dancing around you. Too many strangers. All you wanted was to find the bar, but now all you can feel is a wave of nausea and heat hit you. You feel like you’ve been wondering through this heated crowd of drunks forever and need to find a way out before you throw up from anxiety. Before you can even begin searching for an opening, a hand grasps yours and spins you around. You're actually surprised to see Jimin standing there, worry of all things gracing his features. You can tell he's had way more than enough to drink by the way his glassy eyes can't remain steady and how he keeps secure hold of your hand for standing support.
“Don't...don't scare me like that,” he says, relieved. His voice shakes a little and even in this dark place you're able to notice how flushed his cheeks are. “I thought you got lost or something.”
“Why do you care?” you reply indifferently before turning your back to him and try to find a different space to move through.
Jimin glances back at the table of his rowdy friends watching him from a distance before he slips back in front of you and grabs at your hand once again. You give him a hesitant look as he tugs your arm a bit, motioning further into the crowded dance floor where you wouldn't be discernible from any other couple there.
“We can at least dance, right?” his words are rushed out and he can't really think properly, but he knows he really fucking wants to be alone with you, for multiple reasons. You can't ignore him this time and he knows this.
“Fine.”
You say nothing more and your hand remains attached to Jimin's sweaty one as he pulls you closer, enclosing your waist in his arms. You know he's only doing this to keep them from knowing you two weren't on the best terms at the moment, but it's enough to make you feel some sort of relief knowing you have someone with you in this packed place. He starts dancing against you and your body follows. It's simple like this for enough time before the last few drinks you had prior to reaching the dancefloor start kicking into gear. Of course, mixed with the hot atmosphere of the club and the thumping music, you feel yourself become loose, uncaring of the close proximity or the way his hands casually brush against your thighs every now and then. He embraces this and becomes a bit more bold with his actions. His hands capture your ass and squeeze as he continues to draw on your curves. The beat of the song becomes sexier and Jimin’s hands become more frantic on you as his hips join him. Before you know it, you've turned around and let him press himself against your backside, simple swaying turning into grinding and groping.
“What’s the real reason you stayed on the dance floor with me?” You ask him the question that's been floating in your mind for a while and exhale when you feel his fingers brush your hair to one side of your neck. He holds you so close you can smell his cologne, his chest pressing against your back.
“I know you get anxious in places like this,” he whispers in your ear honestly, “I wouldn't let you come out here by yourself.” He presses a tender kiss against your ear and you grin, closing your eyes as a bubbly laugh emerges from your system. He presses another kiss just behind your ear, this one a bit more mischievous. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to put my hands all over you all night,” he admits and you can feel yourself getting more and more turned on by his words and his hands. “What were you thinking when you wore this dress, you knew I’d be here...”
“And? I can’t help it if you get turned on,” you counter and spin in his arms to face him again. His bottom lip is caught in his teeth, and he tries, but he can’t keep his eyes from looking like they crave every inch of you in that very moment. It’s then when you realize exactly what he’s doing to you; you’re supposed to be angry at him, you’re supposed to be ignoring him. You take into account that he is indeed a very cute, very horny drunk--but it’s not gonna distract you from how he treated you a few days ago. You take his arms off of you, regaining your balance by yourself, “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Why not?” he wants to laugh but he catches a glance at your stern face and frowns instead. He’s genuinely confused.
“Just don’t.”
You take a deep aggravated breath before beginning to fumble through the crowd to find a way out. As soon as you see an opening, you take it and he follows you quickly.
“Wai...Wait,” he calls after you, but it's a vain attempt.
You two make it back to the booth and the boys are already ready to leave. Namjoon has gone to grab Hoseok somewhere off the dancefloor while the other two wait for them patiently.
You furrow your brows, “What’s going on?”
“They want to go downtown to another club,” Jin informs you and Yoongi nods in agreement.
“Are you guys going home or?” Yoongi asks you curiously, eyeing your slightly disheveled dress with a small smirk. Jimin.... you mentally curse him and yourself as your hands fix it sheepishly.
“I’m leaving,” Jimin answers him and slips on his jacket before looking to you. “Are you coming?”
You glance between him and Yoongi’s own amused face before deciding it might be best for you to end the night while you're still in a decent mood. There's a pang in your chest that also tells you leaving with him might not be such a bad idea. You nod and grab your wallet, and Jimin gently grabs your hand in his without even thinking. Before you can say anything, his fingers intertwine with yours; you leave it alone.
“We're gonna head to the other club in that case,” he pours the last shot on the table into his mouth messily and swallows hard, coughing a few seconds later. He murmurs something to Jin too softly for you to comprehend that’s followed by a drunken giggle, but returns, “Seokjin’s already called in a cab for you two.”
You two says a few silent thank-yous and goodbyes before you part your ways. Jimin continues holding your hand all the way out of the club and it makes your face heat up a bit. When you get outside, he lets go of you and you stop dead in your tracks at what you see.
“He only...called o-one,” you stammer out as your blurry eyes observe the cab car. You think now that maybe you should’ve told them what was going on. They would’ve gotten two cabs if you had. “Fuck.”
Confusion washes over Jimin but then he soon realizes exactly what you mean when he thinks about where he's been the past handful of days. He sighs deeply...
“I'm gonna call Seokjin--” you begin as you take out your cellphone but Jimin catches your hand before you can even fumble with the power button.
“Save your money,” he murmurs, “Just come home with me.”
You stare at his dark eyes for a moment. If you did go with him, maybe Jungkook could walk you home when you got there and you wouldn’t have to worry about any awkward confrontations. You put your phone back into your wallet before allowing yourself to be pulled into the cab by him.
Jimin’s hand is firmly held on your thigh the entire ride, every now and then fingering the hem of your dress absentmindedly. He needs to distract himself from wanting to kiss you so badly.
It’s just another obstacle, anyways.
Instead of going to the dorms like you thought Jimin had intended, you two arrive at your shared apartment. You open the door of the car quickly and start faltering your way to the front door. Jimin shoves a handful of more than enough crumpled, sweaty money towards the driver before following you hastily. By the time he catches up, you’re already turning the key in the door. His hands are on your waist to hold you steady while you step into the house.
The first thing Jimin does after entering is rid himself of his jacket, tossing it on the couch before following you to wherever you wander off to. You stumble into the kitchen aimlessly and toss your keys and wallet onto the counter, paying him no mind. Jimin eyes you for a moment while you remove your jewelry before running his hand through his hair anxiously.
You feel the same muscular presence press against your back with enough force to push you flush between the counter and his chest. A pair of hands grip the edges of the counter on either side of you and he leans in far enough to let you feel his warm, alcohol-laced breath flirt with your ear.
He glances at your flustered face through half lidded hazy eyes and sighs.
“I'm sorry for being such an ass a few days ago,” he slurs softly, and a moment later you can feel him drag his swollen lips against the tender skin of your neck while he leans further into you. You hum absentmindedly and push back into him, earning a broken moan that vibrates against your skin when you press directly against his arousal. His hips buck subconsciously and simple Goddamn quietly falls from his lips when he feels himself grow harder in his jeans.
“You don't mean that.”
“I do.”
His teeth graze your neck gently.
“You're drunk, Jimin-ah.”
“You're right,” he admits, “I drink when I'm nervous. I was scared.”
“Scared of what?” you ask him when you feel him grind into the back of your thigh and hear him sigh, “Scared to talk to me after you told me to get off your fucking back?”
“I made you cry, and I'm so, so sorry,” he murmurs, disregarding your question. “But I'm not nervous anymore. And I need to make it up to you right now,” he says lowly and grips at your hips, but you shake him off and finish settling in, merely walking away while slipping the jacket off your shoulders and dropping it to the floor lazily. You begin taking your shoes off when you turn to face him.
Jimin stares back at the familiarly displeased look on your face, “You don't make this easy, do you?” The corners of his mouth subconsciously curve into a sultry grin. You watch his tongue dart between his lips for a long moment and then disappear again. His eyes, intoxicated and disoriented, try to maintain steady focus on your figure as he stumbles forward towards you.
“I'm trying really hard right now,” he reaches you with a shaky arm and his lazy eyes search your face intently. Even though you too are drunk yourself, you are coherent enough to know he’s doing his best while motivated by this liquid courage. Jimin pulls you close to him and traces your jaw with his fingertips. “It’s already difficult enough trying to apologize while I’m hard like this.”
“Now is not the time for games, Jimin-ah,” you respond briskly to his lewd remark, yet you embrace his touch.
His glassy eyes are unwavering, “How can I play games when you say my name like that?”
Before you know it, his lips replace his fingers. The only sounds that fill the silent house are those of him pressing light kisses to your neck and ragged breathing on both your parts.
“Baby...” he drawls out amorously. His hands become just as lively on your body as they were in the club, and he realizes he really can’t keep them to himself when you’re around. He needs to feel you. “Do you forgive me yet?”
“Give me a good reason why I should.”
Truthfully, you don't need a reason to cave in. You've already given into him and his body; the way your skin is hot under his touch and the way your heart pounds against your chest confirms that.
He hums on your neck thoughtfully before responding.
“Open your legs and just let me remind you why you should forgive me.”
He removes his lips from your skin for a moment when his eyes follow his hand that saunters up you body, resting at your hips and pulling you even closer. “Because I know you didn't agree to leave with me just so you could come home and go to sleep.”
You’re caught off guard.
“I don’t...” you trail off, unable to finish whatever bullshit excuse you were about to feed him and avert your gaze anywhere else other than his lustful eyes. You feel his soft fingertips tilt your attention back to him instantly.
He’s silent for a long moment.
“I’m gonna kiss you...”
Jimin speaks his thoughts aloud carelessly.
There’s a brief moment of still air between the two of you while his gaze shifts from your mouth to your eyes.
His breath fans out over your lips and you indulge the sickly sweet smell of liquor before he ducks down and captures your lips effortlessly.
His mouth mangles with yours in a sloppy kiss, biting and sucking anything he can get his lips attached to. Your hands grip at his shirt desperately, fingers wound up in the fabric, practically begging for him to put his tongue all over you.
You can hear something fall and hit the ground loudly when Jimin nearly knocks you against a table in the hall, desperately searching for something to push you up against so he can grind against you. He needs the friction he's not receiving. Jimin settles for the wall instead; your right leg wrapping around his waist tightly while he works his hips into you greedily. All you can hear is his heavy breathing in your ear and it makes your throat go dry. The sounds coming from both of you are almost euphoric. One of his hands leaves your hips and travels to your hair, grabbing as much as he can manage and tugging your head back until he's satisfied with the vast amount of new skin his tongue continues to taste.
“Jimin--please…” you beg when you're able to catch your breath. He sucks on that familiar spot just behind your ear that makes you writhe under his grip.
His head is swimming at the taste of your skin mixed with the twinge of whiskey and vodka, still thick on his tongue even after all this time away from the club, “Hm…”
“Take it off.”
Your fingers card through his hair while his hands reach behind you immediately, more than happy to remove the one thing that stood between him and nearly taking you right up against the wall.
His fingers tug at the zipper of your dress countless times but he can't seem to get the damn thing down; a frustrated groan against your lips is followed by an indirect beg for help when he rubs his hard-on up against your thigh desperately. Without even releasing his lips, your arm reaches behind yourself and swats his hand away, instead taking the zipper in your own fingers and pulling it down with ease. The dress is pooled around your ankles a few seconds later and he sighs, satisfied. He feels your eager hands start working his belt off. His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he watches you take off his pants for him; he likes it how when you're so eager for him to fuck you, you lose your patience.
Because only he can make you feel like that.
He gets harder just thinking about it.
Before he can comprehend what's happening, you two are stumbling into your bedroom a moment later.
He has you pinned on the bed in a matter of seconds, unclasping your bra and knocking it off the bed. Both of his hands palm your breasts and his lips release yours to ghost down your chest. His fingers move to skim down your body until he reaches exactly what he's looking for; hands slipping your underwear off with ease and he immediately comes in contact with your heat. Wasting no time, his middle finger enters you and he begins moving.
“God,” he murmurs, curling his finger in and out of you, painstakingly slow. He thinks about the way he saw he made you cry a few days ago, compared to the way your face contorts and your knees buckle in pleasure now, “Do I make you feel good?”
You nod once, unable to answer with anything other than a drawn out moan. He adds a finger and continues massaging your walls. His other hand holds down one of your thighs in a tight grip to keep you from grinding against his hand.
Your entire body tenses up and you cum easily on his fingers from all the pent up frustration earlier in the night until now.
He let’s you ride out your peak on his hand before removing his fingers and hooking his arms under your thighs. Your skin feels like it’s on fire when his mouth meets your leg. Jimin’s tongue glides over your inner thigh before he sucks a plum colored bruise that matches the one littering your neck and you chest. However, it’s much too far away from the place his lips need to be. His hands rub circles into your thighs as he inches up closer, stopping every few seconds to add another hickey to the collection on either thigh, because the taste of your skin alone could get him drunk quicker than any alcohol. Your eyes flutter close when you feel his breath linger over your core. You feel nothing between your legs a second later; the absence of his mouth disappoints you. A noise of disapproval slips from your lips by accident. Jimin crawls overtop of you clumsily and you open your eyes to his hazy figure staring down at you with a lazy smirk.
“You fucking tease,” you breathe out irritably and he presses his lips to your jaw, chuckling and humming against your flushed skin.
“I’m just marking my territory so you remember where I’ve been by the morning,” he murmurs with a smile, “I can speed this apology up, if you want…?”
Your head is pounding and all you want is for him to hurry up and fuck you already, but he’s moving way too slow for your liking and he knows it. You dip into his boxers and take his length into your hand, rolling your thumb around the tip slowly. He’s so caught off guard that he can’t protest anything but a stutter for you to touch him more, “F-fuck, baby please.”
He inhales sharply and sighs in your ear, your name rolling off his tongue like a foreign language. He let’s you please him for a few seconds because he’s been aching for your touch for too long. And as much as he doesn't want to, he removes your hand from stroking him, hastily removing his boxers instead because he needs to be inside of you. Now.
You're too dazed to realize his strong arms are flipping you over onto your stomach. But once you do, you settle onto your elbows and spread your legs for him. He strokes himself a few more times at the sight of you so ready for him to just take you; he’s so hard for you it almost hurts.
“Jimin-ah, please,” you murmur into the pillows, pushing your ass back toward him. He obliges.
His hands seamlessly inch your thighs up higher and he enters your heat from behind with a wanton groan, his eyebrows knitting together and his head thrown back in satisfaction.
Drunk sex with Jimin was always greasy; his mouth and his actions became much more talkative and filthy. And in light of your argument, he was much more possessive.
“I'm so sorry,” he breathes out as he begins rocking into you. His hands grip at your sides, guiding your hips back to meet his thrusts and you moan. He needs to hear more of you, but he’s too lost in bucking his hips to tell you to be louder. His frustrations, your frustrations...all of them are satisfied with every stroke. He pulls your legs apart wider.
“You’re mine,” he mutters while one of his hands leave your waist to rake welts down your back. His other hand digs mercilessly into the meat of your hips as he keeps with his sloppy thrusts. “You're mine...you're mine...you're mine...”
The way you moan his name so shamelessly, how you whine for him to prove it, just drives him and his sexual tensions further. He begins picking up some speed.
“Before... you wouldn't even...speak to me,” he manages between a few rough thrusts that make you cry out in pleasure, “Now the only thing you can moan is my name, begging me to fuck you harder.”
His voice is hoarse and provocative when he slurs this into your ear, and you arch your back into him impatiently. He gives you what you want, of course. You hit your second peak when Jimin finally finds that spot that makes you let out a strangled cry.
Your legs tremble. “Yes, Jimin, God yes.”
His fingers find your hair again and he uses it as leverage while he continues thrusting. The choked moans that fall from your mouth mingle in the air with his own groaning and the sound of his sloppy strokes. His mouth attaches to your shoulder in a tender kiss, so much different from the way he continues to ram into you. Jimin’s face is buried deep into your neck and you can feel the heat of him panting followed by endless grunts after every lengthy stroke and grind against your backside. He chants your name like a prayer amidst the curses of how fucking great you feel around him; how sinful it feels for him to fuck you so good while you're both plastered like this.
“You're such a good girl…” he can't help but groan while you throw your head forward deep into the pillows and reach a hand back, nails gripping deep into his hip. Jimin tugs his bottom lip at the slight pain, somehow managing to push even deeper into you than he had been going before, “You take my dick so well.”
You begin to reach the other arm between your legs but his own reaches around and pushes it away. Rather, his hand finds your clit and he gives it all the attention it's been waiting for, and then some. It only takes a few flicks of his wrist before he hears a choked moan that sounds similar to his name, followed by a string of curses. Your third climax blindsides you completely. You’re too tired to even realize he’s work you up until the point of no return, once again.
You go to catch your breath while Jimin lowers your hips down to the bed, finally. He lets you rest briefly, littering your shoulders in quick kisses before his hips start moving again. His hands intertwine over yours and he moves to hover flush over you, slowing his pace but grinding so roughly into you that you don't know what to do with yourself. He presses you deeper into the bed with every thrust and it drives you wild. You want to dig your nails in his back, but you settle for your mattress instead, clawing at it while a familiar ache comes back to the pit of your stomach.
“Jimin…I'm gonna cum again…” you warn him but he continues his ministrations; his lips falling near your ear.
“Good,” he whispers, “I wanna make you cum as many times as you've been on my mind the last few days.”
Over and over and over and over….countless times.
His fingers reach up and grasp at your chin delicately, turning your focus towards him as he locks your lips in a heated, passionate kiss. The familiar taste of him and his sweat invades your mouth and the only person on your mind in that moment is Jimin.
“I love you,” he says when he goes to breathe.
“Tell me again.”
“I love you so fucking much.”
“Again.”
“God, I Iove you.” He envelops your lips once more when he feels you cum again, and he captures your moan in his mouth.
Before he can tell you again, his own orgasm takes over and his hips shudder. He pulls himself from you right before he hits his peak. You feel him come on your back with a broken stutter of your name, his labored breath heavy in the crook your neck. You reach a hand back tiredly and gently rub his neck while he finishes. He slumps beside you, chest heaving as he’s catching his breath.
You two stay in comfortable silence like this for a few minutes, then Jimin voice evades the silence.
“Are you asleep?”
“No,” your eyes open slowly.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Alright.”
“You are...everything to me,” his voice is quiet and soft, and it makes your heart swell. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that the guy from 10 minutes ago is the same person you’re talking to now.
But in this very moment, with you, he’s vulnerable. And this is the real Jimin, the one you find yourself falling more and more in love with everyday.
“I can’t figure out what I want to say...” He says, obviously bothered while he pushes a tired hand to rub his eyes in an attempt to clear his fuzzy head. He doesn’t want to be drunk anymore. “Damnit…”
“It’s alright, you don’t need to say anything else.”
“It’s not alright. Because I shouldn’t have taken my anger at myself out on you,” his voice trembles almost like he wants to cry, but instead he takes a deep breath, “Especially when all you were trying to do was help me.”
“Jimin…”
“I don’t have enough words right now to explain all the things in my head,” he pauses while his fingers traces your skin, outlining hickies, “But I need you to know I did not mean to hurt you. You know how much I care about you, right?”
He searches for some assurance. You bring your hand to his face and push back his sweat laced hair to see his eyes; they’re glassy, but they’re honest while veiled behind those lashes.
“I know. I do what I do because I care a lot about your happiness Jimin…”
“But my happiness comes from yours,” he spills out more and more words and he can’t help it, “And when I make you unhappy, how can I be happy?”
You want to respond something more but can feel your eyes closing slowly. He moves forward and kisses you much differently than earlier in the night; it’s gentle and timid. It lulls you even further.
“I’m so sorry,” he exhales against your lips, “You can sleep now. I’m sorry.”
“Promise...you’ll shower with me in the morning,” you mumble sleepily.
wah, it was so rough, my bad! 😰 ahn, mine was okay, i think. i was at home with my parents and we watched the fireworks on TV, it was cool 😊 and i did the same with my fb! a fresh beginning is all we needed! we'll rock this year! 👊 — destiny anon✨
Nothings your fault !! I’m really glad someone is interested enough in my New Years Eve. You’re the sweetest anon <3
This year is going to be the best ! I feel it ^^ Destiny anon, if you feel like becoming friends, hit me up on my main blog ? c:
i'm here just to say happy new year, doah and everyone! 😆 i hope you guys be very happy and prettier this year! 😌💕 i was so busy in the end of 2015... 😪 anyways, how was your turn of the year, doah? did you do anything special? — destiny anon✨
ah.. my heart fluttered when I saw it was you destiny anon c’:
My new year was.. questionable? My bff thought it was a good idea to take me, someone with social anxiety, to a new years party. I’m never outside on the 31st because I dislike fireworks, they make me hella nervous and I don’t like loud sounds.
Before going we even got into an argument that she understood my anxiety and that it was better to go, because it would ‘help’ me and I was like if you really knew what I was going through you would’ve bought something yummy and eat it with me while we’re watching a movie at home or something but ok. She didn’t really give me a choice tho.. so we went and I was already on the verge of crying arriving there because of the fireworks and the nerves I’ve had all day, cuz I knew she was going to take me to that goddamn party in the evening, and to top it all, a giant dog ran up to me when I walked in (I was that kid scared of everything, i’m slowly opening up to things tho, like dogs, i still get nervous around them but in the end I befriend them lol). There were like 20 people I didn’t know and gosh I just wanted to go home. Then they decided to play a board game, which calmed me down because I was distracted, so my friend felt the need to say ‘hey it’s not that bad right?’ and I was like ‘i guess..’, i’d still rather be at home tho.
Then they all drank and got wasted (I.. don’t drink alcohol..) and people were clinging on to me and they were going outside to light fireworks and I was like suck it up so I went outside, but I got so hella anxious that I told the mother of the guy who threw the party that I didn’t like fireworks, so she told me to go inside and I befriended their dogs, like on every party I went to (like 2). A girl even got fireworks in her eye.
Then when they were finally done, the fact that I was scared of fireworks was the topic of conversation and this is why I hate people. After, they wanted to go to the giant fire on the beach, which meant going outside with all the fireworks, drunks, a lot of people who went to see the goddamn fire, so I really really wanted to go home (I stayed at my bffs house), but when I told the drunk idiot I wanted to go she said she didn’t want to and I just had to accept it, so I got mad and asked for her keys (her house was like a 5 min walk away), so before anyone could say anything I literally ran away in the direction of her house.
But then right next to me fireworks were being lit and I got a panic attack, it was literally raining above me, so I actually crouched down and started crying and hyperventilating in the middle of the street, but I was almost home so I walked the last bit, so I ran up the stairs, got inside and crouched down in front of the door and cried af and almost choked in my own hair ?? No one saw me though
She came home drunk later and passed out in bed and she still doesn’t know I had a panic attack, because I’ve been avoiding the topic all day. She’s still super chill about it, so yeah I’m kinda pissed off at her, but I don’t want any conflict, so I’m just gonna keep quiet about it. At least she knows I ain’t going to parties with her anymore.
I’m sorry anon, you must’ve expected a nice story ..
How was yours tho?? I hope it was a lot better than mine c:
Don’t worry about me though, I’m fine atm, I’ve been planning to do big things in 2016, so the fact that it’s finally January 1st makes me a lot happier. And I just deleted my fb and made a new one, leaving all the negative people behind, I’m just really really looking forward to this year, so this anxiety attack ain’t gonna hold me down ^^
A few days ago I found my favourite youtuber and now I am kinda curious, do you have a fav youtuber haha?
I do actually! I really like Troye Sivan (that’s actually how I got into his music) and princessmei (she is just SO pretty and she seems to have a really fun personality)
turnnoffyourmind
annaxmalina
areudirty
romaincrisis
snowghoul
stormborns