SUMMARY. Your older boyfriend Jimin is the epitome of patience—kind, gentle, and endlessly composed, because this is definitely not his first rodeo. But every man has his limits, and patient, loving Jimin has his too. Your first night staying over teaches you what it really means to be touched by a man.
word count. 7.9k
warnings. dom!jimin x sub!reader, age gap, jimin is in early 30’s reader is in early 20s, nasty filthy smut, NSFW, penetration, oral sex, bulging kink, praise, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, light coercion theme but nothing crazy, creampie, jimin has a beautiful cock (canon), jimin is louddd in bed (also canon)
note. another jimin fic!! this was entirely inspired by his recent live, his voice was so soothing and calm, i couldn’t stop letting my mind wander to older bf!jimin im so sorry for the delay in posting, i had some things come up in my personal time and i didn’t have as much time to write. im planning to drop more fics in quick succession so stay tuned!! love you guys so much, and thank you so much for the comments and anonymous messages i appreciate them so much and they encourage me to write more and more. you guys are the best and i hope you enjoy this fic because it a litttlleee different from what i usually write. also all characters in this fic are fictional and do not reflect on any real life person, jimin was simply used as inspiration but this does not reflect on him. pls check warnings before you read.
Jimin was an incredibly patient man, you’d come to realize. He held open doors for you, refilled your wine glass, and cracked open your jars when you cooked. He showed up when you were drunk at the club to drive you home, put up with your millions of questions, and let you tease him about his small hands. That was one of the many pluses of pursuing an older guy, you thought. They were too experienced to be annoyed.
But his patience was now making the pits of your stomach sour and tightening at your throat.
You knew he was a gentleman; he would never push. But you didn’t want to disappoint the somehow incredibly gorgeous man who had fallen into your orbit. When he had requested to stay the night, you’d agreed eagerly, letting a string of quick “yes’s” fall out of your lips on the phone. But you knew what that usually meant, and you weren’t sure how to go about it. It wasn’t like the thought of fucking him was anything less than surreal, but you were the type that spiraled into a spitball of anxiety at even the merest of tasks, getting to this stage with Jimin was eating you alive.
Your gentle-toned, dulcet voice, Jimin, was perched by your side, leaning in as you showed him your Prime Day shopping cart. You liked having him so close; his scent was always a subtle mixture of soap and an earthy, masculine cologne that was probably much more expensive than you realized.
“And I thought about refilling my primer, but this one is on discount, so I might get the more expensive one.” You added, jabbing a finger at the computer screen.
“Hmm..” Jimin hummed, running a tight hand through his hair. How sweet, you thought. He always gave his full consideration to your questions, no matter how insignificant they were. “Seems like a decent idea. But you know they hike prices up before it actually goes on sale.”
“Oh, I didn’t even consider that.” You said quickly, and drew in your bottom lip between your teeth, giving it a contemplative bite. Your eyebrows were scrunched in thought. Jimin chuckled and pinched your cheek.
“Make a decision, kid.” He urged. You grinned in response; the nickname was so overused by him, but you loved it nonetheless.
You scrolled further, adding to your cart, and Jimin rested his head completely on your shoulder. His black frames reflected the blue light of your laptop, and you reached up, running an affectionate hand through his hair. He smiled.
“Ooh, how about we get you a new wallet? I know yours looks fucked.” You chimed, your nose scrunched up in thought.
Jimin chuckled, a honey rumble that vibrated across the skin of your neck. If he noticed the sudden goosebumps rising on your skin, he didn’t comment. “That’s very sweet of you, you don’t have to do that though.”
“But I want to.” You emphasized while typing in the search bar. Jimin was generous with his money, unreasonably so, and you snatched at any opportunity you could take to treat him, even if it was a measly thirty bucks wallet.
A comfortable silence stretched between you two as you got absorbed in your hunt. Your mind was so fogged in concentration, you couldn’t even feel Jimin's heated gaze making its way to your doe features, taking in your pouted expression with an unwarranted hunger.
“You’re always so good to me.” He said. His hot breath gristled at your ear, and you instinctively flinched. Jimin wanted to coo at your innocent reaction, how sweet and malleable you were.
“Well, I like taking care of you.” You rested your head on his, but your eyes didn’t leave your screen.
Jimin felt a bubble of excitement, and the perfect opportunity to leer you in. “Yeah?”
“Mhmmm..” You nodded and rubbed your soft cheek against his ear.
Jimin suddenly shifted his head and sat up slightly, turning his head completely towards you. Suddenly, you became all too aware of how intense his eyes were. A feature you’d noticed before, but felt unusually predatory with his full attention on you. Your throat bobbed, but you couldn’t manage the weight of returning his gaze, so you kept your attention fixated on the laptop.
Your fingers started trembling lightly, and you started clicking on random products. Not bothered by whether they were relevant in any way.
Jimin could sense your unease from miles away, a characteristic of you he’d grown to adore. What a cute girl.
He couldn’t help but want to push at your nerves more, wanting to see when you would relinquish control and give in to his searing eyes. “You wanna take care of me more, kid?”
Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, but you didn’t dare to turn your head, "W-what do you mean, Jimin?”
Jimin hummed in response and took in your rapidly blinking eyes, like you were trying to blink away his undeniable presence. He didn’t say anything, but ran the pads of his fingers in a loose circle across your clothed thigh.
You jolted at the sudden touch, and you swore your hands looked lifeless as they clutched your laptop for dear life. Your knuckles went white, but you didn’t let go. You were silent, as if you moved, Jimin would pounce on you and eat you alive. Or maybe that was what you wanted to happen.
Jimin only felt bolder at your weighted silence. The rational part of him would stop now and realize he was pushing at you far too quickly. And god had kept his rational side afloat for far too long with you, but now he wanted to nudge at your discomfort a bit more. To see how far you’d really let him take things.
He continued his slow, burning circles and smirked lightly at your breath, visibly catching in your throat. “I’m asking..” He paused. You brought a finger up to your mouth to nibble at your cuticle, “For you to look at me.”
You paused, fully, completely. Your laptop hummed uselessly against your lap. Jimin reached a ringed hand out and closed the screen. The darkness of your apartment took over, succumbing to the lack of little illumination your screen was providing. You turned your head slowly to look at him, eyes wide and glassed over in anticipation.
“I-I was looking for wallets for you, though, Ji-” You started, but were shushed by the older man beside you. His fingers kept swirling on your thigh lightly, pressing in only enough to trace the texture of your smooth skin.
You looked at him like a deer caught in headlights, blinking sweetly at him. Jimin wanted to see those same eyes when he finally plunged into your poor pussy.
“Much better.” He cooed, his fingers danced across to the middle of your thigh, starting to pace up and down instead of in spirals. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
You wanted to die there and then. He had been so patient, so kind to you, and you were making him feel like he was committing a crime by wanting to touch you. In fact, his soft touch was evoking something in you that you didn’t know you could feel.
“No!” You said far too quickly, “No, no, of course you’re not.”
Jimin only sighed at your response and let his fingers crawl to your inner thigh. You froze further, and your bottom lip started to quiver. You wanted to fill the tension starting to build between you two, “You’re always so patient with me, Jimin.”
He nodded, “That I am..” His thumb brushed further up, but still not near your most sensitive area. You wanted to swallow in your awkward demeanor so bad, and you tried to slowly build the courage to do something.
“Then don’t you think I deserve you by now?”
You gaped at him, his supple voice ringing in the shell of your ear, “Deserve.. Me?”
He chuckled to himself at your dumbfounded expression and tapped a finger on your chin, “Deserve you.” He let you sit in the nervous, tense string of energy building between you, watching your fingers mess with a string on the couch. You were trying to find something to say, obviously.
He tilted his head, leaning back, and continued, keeping his hand on your thigh. “I’ve been patient with you, you know,” he said. “Followed your pace, even when you start those little games, trying me, then pulling away like you didn’t mean to.”
Your eyes widened. “I’m not playing any games!” you said quickly.
He tilted his head, “Yeah?”
“I’m not! I promise I’m not. I’m just..” You blinked rapidly, scratching at the couch. Jimin’s fingers ran down your leg, prompting you to continue. You gnawed at your lip, “Nervous...” You finished.
“Nervous,” he repeated, almost to himself. “Yeah, I figured.”
“I’ve been careful with you, though, haven’t I?” he said finally. His voice was quiet, but it carried an authority that made your stomach flip. “Haven’t pushed. Haven’t asked for more than you could give.”
You nodded, small and hesitant.
“And I could be more persistent,” He continued, “I really could.”
You swallowed.
“I just want to make you feel good, you don’t trust me yet, do you, kid?” He squeezed your thigh expectantly.
“I do, Jimin, I swear I do.” You put your hand on top of his weighted one. Eager to please, Jimin thought. So willing.
“Then let me do that, baby. Let me touch you.” He reached over and ran the back of his knuckle over your cheek. You shut your eyes and breathed out, thinking, head running a mile a minute.
“Okay.” You said simply nodding, your heart thudded against your chest with force.
Jimin felt his cock twitch in his pants, but steadied himself. “Good, so stop holding your breath every time I get close.”
You let out a rush of air and finally turned your head completely towards him, eyes sparkling. He traced a shape into your thigh before running his hand up to the curve of your ass, fixated on your cautious soft expressions. You eyed his hands curiously, but made no move to flinch away.
He squeezed, and you gasped.
“Come here.” He patted his lap, signaling for you to get on his lap. You paused before gripping onto the couch and shifting your body up before swinging a leg over his seated body. Your body was stiff and awkward, but Jimin couldn't care less. You were letting him in; he’d pushed just the right amount, and he knew you were gonna warm up further. His courage was soaring.
“Good girl.” That drew a soft smile from you, and you blushed, looking up at him shyly through your lashes. Jimin’s greed took over, and he pressed his hand into the small of your back to push you deeper into him. Your noses brushed together.
“Jimin-” You started, but he cut you off by connecting your lips. The kiss started off peckish and soft, like every other time you guys had kissed before. But he couldn’t be satisfied with a soft tease anymore.
You felt the change before you could name it — the way his breath deepened, how his hand at your waist stopped holding and started restraining. The air between you grew heavier, the kind that hummed with something pent.
Soon enough, Jimin’s hands were spanning the expanse of your bare back under your shirt, as his lips bruised yours. His tongue roamed freely in your mouth, as if exploring every oral crevice. You were still perched on his lap sweetly, legs on either side of his beautiful frame, and your greedy, eager hands wandered the front of his shirtless body, tracing over every inch of pale skin presented to you. Your fingers danced across the tatted words on his ribs and then up his sternum, tracing over the protruding bones. Jimin sucked and nibbled at your lower lip, watching amused as the color shifted from a lovely peach to a passionate, juicy red.
Most of all, he watched your eyes dance back and forth under your eyelids, and the slight clench between your brows as your senses were overwhelmed by the older man. You were trying to take in everything all at once, the feeling of his warm, bare skin pressed against your clothed one, the lactonic smell of his freshly washed hair brushing your forehead, and the way his plump, round lips decorated the width of your mouth with cloy kisses. Jimin wanted more of his sweet girl, no, needed more of his sweet girl. Who was so eager to please him in any form.
He let your bunny kisses continue for a little bit, letting your hands press at various parts of him before he gripped your wrists lightly. You stilled, like you did something wrong, and your eyes fluttered open.
“Tell me one more time you’re okay with this.” He insisted.
You nodded quickly, “Yes, I am, I promise.” You didn’t want to stop, the feeling of his tender skin still under your fingertips.
Jimin’s eyes trailed across your face, your bruised pout, and the dewy flush travelling down your cheekbones; he bore into your eyes to search for any signs of uncertainty, but only received your widely dilated pupils.
“Okay.” His grip on your wrists tightened, but not enough to bruise, and you blinked up at him. “You wanna make me feel good, baby?”
His hand started pushing one of yours down his sinuous torso, and you gasped out, catching on. “Y-yes.. But I’m not too good-”
“I’ll guide you, sweetheart.” He released one of your wrists, still guiding the other down at a minuscule pace. His other ringed hand went to the waistband of his grey sweatpants and tugged lightly, revealing the black band of his boxers. Your eyes were trained on his movements, hypnotized.
He kept pushing your hand down his body until your fingers brushed at the very beginnings of his dark, happy trail. He had to suppress a moan, feeling your delicate touch was lighting sparks under his skin. God, he’d been looking forward to this more than he imagined.
He watched your thumb brush at the waistband of his boxers, and he started speaking, but was cut off by your mellow voice, “Can I, Jimin?” Of course, you asked for his permission, he thought. You were so good to him.
“Of course you can, baby.” Your hand disappeared beneath his sweatpants, and you gave a light experimental squeeze to his clothed cock. Jimin’s hands were still steady on your wrist, and he groaned out, cursing under his breath.
Your gaze snapped up at the addictive sound, and you gave another light squeeze; his cock jumped underneath the thin cloth, and you started to feel a sticky substance leak from the pulsing thick tissue. Jimin bucked his hips up at your hand instinctively, and you felt his precum leak through and stick to your palm.
You let out a small noise of appreciation, removing your hand. Jimin watched as you brought up your hand to your mouth and licked at the precum stuck to your palm, “Salty.” He almost came right there and then, your innocent but charged gesture messed with his mind further.
“Shit.” He cursed, and a vein in his forehead twitched. He guided your hand back into his pants, this time under his sticky boxers. Your blush deepened as you made contact with his thick cock, and you wrapped your hand around it. God, he was thick; your hand could barely wrap around him. He moved your wrist back and forth, making you give him slow, deliberate pumps. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
“Jimin..” You said softly, circling your thumb on his plump tip.
“Doing so good, sweetheart, fuck..” He started, shifting your hand faster, and a lewd schlick schlick schlick filled the room along with his deep, hot panting.
He twisted your wrist so you pumped him at an angle and bit down on his lower lip, suffocating his sounds. His moans were so unbelievably sweet, you noted, his sighs and breathy moans dripping out of your ears like sugary sap.
Without his guidance, you sped your hand up, and Jimin loosened his grip, letting you pump him with a tight grip. His cock twitched occasionally in your palm, and his precum started to drip down his member, making a sappy mess in his boxers that neither of you cared for. You felt drunk watching Jimin croon his head back into the couch as you pleasured him, his mouth open in a round “o” shape, revealing his two cute crooked front teeth that you loved.
You swore you were more turned on than him; the wetness of his velvet cock mirrored the warmth pooling between your own legs. All you could think about was making the older man finish.
Jimin bucked his hips a final time before his cum spurted out of his cock, thick white heat coating your smaller hand, his boxers and sweatpants now branded with his release. Jimin’s chest heaved as he brought his head back, narrowing his eyes at your awed expression. You gasped at the sensation of his hot release and watched your hand as you took off his pants. Your fingers were sticky and webbed.
Jimin caught his breath, “You wanna give it a taste for me?”
“Yes..” You said hushed, and brought a finger to your mouth, sucking it like a lollipop.
Jimin cursed, “Fuck.. Good girl.”
Your tongue wrapped around your second finger, liking the salty musky taste.
“You like how I taste?” He brought a loving hand and stroked the back of your head.
“Yes, tastes so good, Jimin.” You murmured as you licked the last of his release off your own hand, “Did I do good?”
“So good, such a good job, sweetheart.” He cooed.
You were floating, bubbly with a weird kind of pride, high off the look in his eyes and how you’d made him sound. The glow took up most of the oxygen in your lungs, dizzy and sweet.
He smiled, lazy and slow, chest still heaving up and down. “Come here.” He beckoned with a flick of his index finger, and you crawled up to nuzzle your nose against his, relishing the silk-heat of his skin. He pulled you against him, so close you could feel his heartbeat, bruising and quick. His hand drifted under your shirt again and quickly found the clasp of your bra. Your breath caught in your throat as Jimin’s fingers messed with the metal hooks before releasing them.
“Gonna get this off of you, baby.” He voiced and reached up, removing the beige straps from your shoulders. “Hands up.”
You raised your arms over your head, and Jimin eased off your oversized shirt.
You let out a shy inhale as your round breasts were bared to him, your nipples pebbled in the cool air-conditioned air of your apartment. Goosebumps rose across your arms as his gaze fell upon you.
“God… you’re gorgeous.” He cupped one breast with a hand and squeezed lightly, savoring the weight of it in the palm of his hand. His mouth salivated, and he wanted nothing more than to feel the bud in his mouth. He bent down, bringing his other hand to cup the other one before wrapping his whole mouth around the swell of your breast. He sucked gingerly before zoning in on your nipple. His tongue flicked at it in short up and down motions, and he tugged at it with his teeth, an action that caused your already overwhelmed nerves to light on fire. You squirmed in his lap, hands fixed on his broad shoulders for purchase.
Jimin glanced up, watching you sway in pleasure on top of him, and offered your other swollen breast similar treatment. He ran his tongue the pebbled span of your areola before sucking passionately at your erect nipple.
You sighed and played with his hair, curving your head down to rest on his. Jimin’s mouth was so hot on your already heated, flushed skin, and it felt like he was leaving a trail of crimson kisses all over your chest. You were getting impatient. His mouth on your tits could only satisfy a fraction of your mind, the rest chanting more, more, more, more, more.
You got carried away and gave an impatient tug at his hair, and Jimin broke free from your spit-slick nipple to look up at you once more, grinning ear to ear. “Getting impatient, huh?”
You nodded eagerly, “More, I want more.”
Jimin pressed an open-mouth kiss in the valley of your breasts and hummed in agreement, “I want more too, baby.”
He broke away from your skin to shuffle to the couch, tossing pillows roughly onto the floor and pushing the soft blanket away that covered the two of you just minutes before. He shuffled, before shifting his hips and lying your bare back onto the couch, before climbing over you. His silver chain dangled over you like a loose thread of moonlight, hitting your chin as he shifted.
The new angle of Jimin had a familiar warmth creep back between your legs, and you pressed your still clothed thighs together. He looked so good on top of you, like he was caging you into his delicious prison.
You arched up onto him, searching for something to relieve you from the slickness that was sticking to your thighs.
Jimin reached down and connected your lips for the thousandth time. You pressed your soft breasts into his toned chest, hands gripping at his shoulders in the newfound angle.
“You wanted more, didn’t you, baby?” He reminded, pulling away from your lips with a string of spit. You let out a soft whimper at the loss of his hot mouth, and Jimin pressed his half-hard, clothed cock on your upper thigh.
“Speak.” He demanded.
“Yes.. more..” You said with a pink, glossy pout.
“Let’s get you out of these, then.” His hand trailed down the edge of your shorts. “Be good and lift your hips for me.”
You hesitated, a mix of excitement and anxiety swirling in your gut. But the way he looked at you, with that predatory hunger, made it hard to refuse. You slowly complied, raising your hips, and he took that opportunity to hook his fingers into the waistband.
With a swift motion, he pulled your shorts down. Jimin was immediately in awe. Your panties were a delicate shade of pastel pink with the cutest satin bow perched right at your pubic bone. The panties were thin enough to peek at your folds, the fabric clinging to you, soaked with your slick. The cool air heightened the already wet, warm feeling between your legs. You gasped softly, and your soft plush thighs started to close, but Jimin’s hand stopped them quickly.
“Come on, sweetheart..” He coaxed, “Don’t close up on me now.” His fingers trailed gently in the middle of your clothed pussy, checking how wet you were. He groaned out, god, you were soaked already. Jimin wanted nothing more than to bury his cock deep in you already and see what you really looked like under the pretty material.
“Jimin.. ” You whined out at the sudden sensation, and Jimin sighed in response, letting the pads of his fingers press gently where your clothed clit would be. He twirled a circle shape, watching you jolt and slither underneath him at the light stimulation. He knew you would be reactive; he could tell just from how jumpy you were before, but this was nothing like he had imagined. He leaned down and flicked the pretty bow with the tip of his tongue, and your tummy tightened at the warm air of his breath.
Jimin took the opportunity to glide off your panties slowly down your legs till they pooled at your ankles. You crossed your legs, denying him the sight of your glossy pussy, and averted your gaze shyly.
“Don’t hide from me,” he murmured, his voice smooth and commanding. “You know I want to see you.” His palm pressed against your inner thigh firmly, and he pushed your legs open. His hips stuttered against your thigh, taken aback at the delicious sight of your tiny, slick pussy, so flushed and swollen already without him even touching it. His mouth watered; he couldn’t believe this was all his.
“Fuck.” He cursed and stopped his delicate dance on your inner thigh to run a finger up your slit, collecting your arousal. Your hips jumped, and you buried your head into the side of the couch, but Jimin was too entranced to notice. He brought his finger to his lips, tasting your arousal, and sighed at the sugared taste.
“So fucking sweet..” He breathed out. He pushed himself down, belly flat between your legs till he was nose level to your pussy and gripped both of your thighs, scooting you down and slapped the side of your thigh, “Put your legs on me.” He commanded, and you complied, exhilarated by the rough edge of his voice. Your knees bent, and you placed your ankles on his shoulders. You were wide open for him to see and devour.
You swallowed hard, the sensation of vulnerability mixed with excitement coursing through you. Jimin leaned in closer, his breath fanning over your slick core, teasingly close yet tantalizingly out of reach. “Breathe for me, baby.” His voice was measured despite the insanity coursing through him. You obeyed, of course, letting out an exhale. “And watch me, okay?”
You nodded, and Jimin dove in. His tongue started lapping thick stripes on your pussy lips, before he dove his tongue pointedly between your lips. He licked and savored the honeyed sap, letting it stick to his chin, his nose, and all over his mouth. He ate you like he was starving, and you were his death row meal. His mouth didn’t stop for a second, and he decorated your little pussy with open-mouth kisses.
Underneath him, you thrashed, arching up into the air and then wiggling your hips as much as you could under his unyielding, stone-like hands. Jimin grunted and softly pinched your thigh, urging you to stay in place so he could continue his attack. His tongue poked around in search of your clit, and when he finally located it, he nudged at the swollen nub. Your hands sprang to his hair, and you dug your fingers into his scalp, which Jimin relished. He nudged at your clit further before finally wrapping his lips around the button and giving it a passionate suck.
“Oh my god!” You cried out, and Jimin hummed in amusement, lapping and sucking at it with vigor. He slowly let go of one of your thighs and brought his fingers to your pussy. He broke free and looked up at you completely, letting his fingers start to play with your folds. The sounds coming from between your legs were obscene, a syrupy noise that echoed in your living room as his fingers ran up and down and then hovered lightly on your clit. His eyes were trained on you, angled and narrowed as he watched you curl back into the couch, hair fanning out over your jiggling breasts.
“Didn’t I tell you to look at me?” His voice was soft, not to draw you out of the glorious hum of pleasure you were absorbed in.
You brought your head up and fixed your gaze on his. Slowly, delicately, Jimin entered his index finger into you and curled it just enough. He hissed at the feeling of your plush walls, massaging his digit, even the light intrusion inducing a reaction from your body.
Your mouth fell open into an O shape, but your gaze didn’t move from his. Jimin wanted to kiss you more than ever. Your cheeks were so red, your eyebrows were pushed together and upwards, and your lips were bruised beyond belief. You looked so fucked out, which was funny because he hadn’t even had the chance to fuck you yet.
“That’s it..” He cooed, “You’re feeling so good, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, I am. “ You whined, high-pitched and desperate. He pumped his finger in and out, watching your pussy drool out onto the couch. His thumb of his other hand nudged at your clit, rubbing gentle circles and pressing into it. Jimin added another thick finger, and your cunt squelched in response. He picked up his pace, stuffing you as much as he could so his silver rings kissed your sticky lips. You were practically singing from pleasure, his fingers massaging spots in you you could never reach.
He curled his fingers and increased his pace once more. The squelches of your pussy deafened your whines, and you brought your hand to grace over Jimin’s wrist. Not to stop, just to feel.
“My sweet girl, you feel so tight around my fingers.” He affirmed. His fingers started to get rougher, now jolting your body up and down with each jab, and he leaned down and started lapping at your bud once more.
“So good! So good!” You chanted, “Feels so good!”
The rough texture of his tongue twisting on your cunt and his intense fingers had the coil in your belly tighten and tighten even further. You gripped onto his wrist harder, and Jimin let you, but didn’t stop.
“I know, baby. Shit, I know, come on. Cum for me.” He murmured. God, your pussy was sweet. He was almost mad at you; you held this from him for so long that he had to push so much to finally get you to relent.
“I’m gonna, fuck, I’m gonna-” You couldn’t finish your sentence, head so warped. Suddenly, it was like your orgasm seized you. You clamped your thighs around his head as the coil snapped. Your vision swirled, and your body trembled as you came. Jimin didn’t ease despite how caught up you were. His fingers stayed in you, curling and uncurling as your walls spasmed like a heartbeat. His nose stayed nudged in your folds, and your juices leaked out pathetically, making a mess on your couch.
When you finally calmed, your head dropped back onto the couch, eyes fluttering open and closed to regain yourself. Jimin eased his fingers out, and you flinched at the loss, and he turned his head, kissing at your inner thigh before suckling at a tender spot. You were quiet for a moment before you sighed out his name, and he nipped at you gently.
“Came so hard, didn’t you?” He said getting out from in between your legs and pushing his body up to be face to face with you.
You nodded slowly.
“Told you I’d make you feel good, right?” Jimin smiled.
“Mhmm.” You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck. “You did.”
“You wanna keep going?” He brushed a strand of hair from your adorable face, and you nodded again. You had a taste of what it meant to be with him; you couldn’t stop now.
“Words, sweetheart.” He emphasized.
“I wanna keep going, Jimin..” You paused and swallowed hard, “I want you to fuck me.”
Jimin’s jaw almost dropped. His sweet younger girlfriend, who was so shy just a while ago, was letting the filthiest sentences drop from her mouth. “You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes, please, want to fill you me.” You begged again.
A beat of silence from Jimin had you thinking maybe you were sounding too desperate or too insistent, and a flush started to creep up your neck. You were gonna shy away, once more, but Jimin cut you off.
“Tell me how badly.” He pressed one hand at the side of your face, steadying you. His eyes were in dark slivers, bearing down at you with vehemence.
Some jolt of courage possessed you, and you grabbed the hand on your face and lowered it. You kept lowering it till it went right on top of your sloppy, dripping cunt, “This badly.”
Jimin cursed loudly, and he pushed two fingers back into your eager hole, which stretched to accommodate him almost immediately. He pulled his fingers back out and analyzed the saccharine gloss on his fingers. “Still so wet..”
“Mhmm,” You said, “I'm still wet.”
“And only my dick can satisfy you, can’t it?” He hissed. He brought his slick, soaked fingers to your lips, and you parted your mouth. He dove his fingers into your mouth, and your fingers swirled around them, taking in your taste. Drool pooled out of the side of your mouth.
“God, you don’t know what you do to me, Y/N.” His voice sounded restrained in a way you hadn’t heard before.
“Please, Jimin.” You pleaded again, voice mushy from his fingers taking over your mouth, “Need you.”
“I’ll give you what you want, princess.” He said, finally, before sitting back. His hands made quick work of his sweatpants and sullied boxers, and he yanked them off, letting his pink cock spring free, already hard.
You licked your lips at the sight; his cock was blushing pink, the tip a glorious bruised purple. His length was average, but his cock was thicker than any you had seen before, the base decorated with neatly trimmed dark hair. His tip was kissed with his already leaking precum, a translucent white beading out of him.
“It’s so pretty.” You said in a hushed tone, and Jimin cracked a kind but devious smile.
“Yeah? You like my cock?” He gave it a couple of full strokes, and it stood prouder and harder than it had before.
“Yeah.. It’s so thick, though...” You trailed off and reached your hand out to his cock. Jimin let out a guttural groan as your fingers pressed at his sensitive tip, collecting the precum. His cock jumped lightly, and you bit your lip at the sight.
“I-I’ll make it fit.” He promised, voice breaking as you ran your ghostly fingers down the shaft, tracing a protruding vein.
“Be gentle.” You asked softly, before drawing your hand back and scooting on the couch to make space for him again.
“I’ll be so gentle with you, darling.” He said hoarsely as he climbed on top of you again, positioning his hands by either side of your head. Although he wasn’t sure if he could keep his control when he was actually inside you. His chain bounced over you again, and you licked your lips at the feeling of the cool metal tracing shapes under your chin.
Jimin grabbed his cock head and pushed at your thighs once more, giving a silent command for you to spread your legs. You bit your lips, eager but melting with nervousness. You didn’t know how he was going to fit; you could barely wrap your hand around him earlier.
Jimin ran his plush cockhead over your puffy folds, nudging around to collect your sap. Your hands played with your nipples, squeezing gently at your full breasts in anticipation. When Jimin was satisfied, he traced at your entrance, not pushing but circling. He felt so warm against you, so warm and velvety that it made your hole flutter in delight.
“You ready?” He asked, his voice gentle but threaded with restraint. His thumb circled lazily at your hip, grounding you.
“I’m ready.” You whispered.
“Tell me if it’s too much, baby.” He brushed a strand of hair from your cheek, his gaze so intensely focused on you that it left you breathless.
You sucked in air, bracing as he pushed forward, the blunt head of his cock nudging at your entrance before stretching you open, slow and unyielding. It burned, a delicious ache that had your fingers clawing at his shoulders.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jimin groaned, voice rough at your ear, pausing. He paused when you gasped, his hips rolling just the tiniest bit deeper but not enough to overwhelm. “You can take it, darling. I know you can.” His cock was buried halfway in you, and you were already overwhelmed by the feeling of stretching to accommodate him. Your nails dug into his shoulder blades, and your eyes screwed closed.
“Gonna move now, okay?” He whispered, barely keeping it together.
“O-okay.” You whimpered, and even as your body trembled, you found yourself wanting nothing more than to be filled by him.
Jimin pushed the rest of his stocky length into you, finally stilling when his balls slapped against your ass lightly. You cried out when you were stuffed completely, hands trembling as you grabbed at him, the couch, anything to bring yourself back.
Jimin was.. A complete mess. The once control that he prided on was reaching its limits; he was buried so deep in you that he swore he was in your ribs. But he couldn’t move, too afraid that if he shifted, he’d cum instantly. Your pussy was sucking him in so deep that even if he wanted to, he couldn’t pull out. Your gluey walls suckling and pushing him in like a suction. Jimin trembled above you, and he took deep breaths to focus.
“Jimin..” You said his name so sweetly, he moaned.
“W-What.. Shit.. what is it, baby?”
“Move, please.” You said voice cracking.
Jimin cursed loudly, “You drive me crazy.”, but obliged. He gripped your hips and pushed his hips back, leaving your soppy pussy halfway before pushing back in. You whined out, the stretch feeling like you were being speared open. His cock was so fucking thick, you couldn’t think. He was tearing you in half, and you loved it.
Jimin panted and repeated the motion, pulling out halfway before experimenting with a rougher thrust. Your boobs jolted, and you captured your lower lip between your teeth, “Yes!” You whined, “Just like that, just like that.”
Jimin’s pupils dilated at your dulcet noise, “Y-Yeah, just like that?” He gave you another half, rough thrust, and wrapped a hand around one bouncing perky breast, squeezing it hard.
You whined again, “Ngh! Yes!”.
Jimin didn’t need to hear more; he pulled out before pushing in roughly, a loud squelch echoing through the room, and then he started a rhythm. Rough, brutish, slow thrusts that had your cunt gushing in delight. Your pussy didn’t relent a second, clenched so tight you could feel every vein of his cock rubbing your gummy walls.
You were euphoric, Jimin’s cock was angled just right, curving to hit a spongy, tender spot in you that you had never felt before. His cock head was nudging you at a bestial intensity, despite his slow pace. Every thrust, every stroke felt deliberate and planned like he was trying to devour you whole. Your hands were fixed on his shoulders, and tears started forming in your eyes at the feverish pleasure.
On top of that, Jimin was not a quiet man. His moans were breathy and almost melodic, like he was singing with every inch he impaled into you. His gaze was concentrated on your syrupy cunt, the way it was swallowing him whole and still begging for more. A creamy white ring decorated the base of his cock, from his precum and your arousal mixing.
He picked up his pace, thrusts smooth and long so you could feel all of him each time he shoved in you.
“Oh! Oh shit!” You squealed out as he fucked you, “S- so big!”
He moved with purpose, each motion a test of control, his breath warming your face. Tears started pooling out of your eyes, running down the sides of your blooming face.
“You're sucking me in, s-sweetheart.” He hissed and started giving you full thrusts, his balls slapping against your ass each time. Tears streamed down your face, and Jimin almost laughed, “Such a crybaby.”
His teeth gritted as his hips snapped into you, the force so intense the couch creaked. You were shaking wildly underneath him, not able to do much but hold on as your pussy engorged around him. He moaned, feeling your slick arousal start trailing its way down to his balls.
“Jimin! My god!” You bounced wildly under him.
Suddenly, his eyes settled on something that had his cock twitch inside you. Your lower belly was bulging with his cock, forming a little tight bump each time he sheathed you. “N-no fucking way.” He said, sweat beading at his hairline. “W-would you look at that.. “
Your bleary eyes could barely focus on what he was looking at, but you felt it. His hand pressed on your lower belly as he drove into you, and he pushed down. You yelped at the sudden sharp surge in pleasure and gripped onto his wrists.
“C-can barely fucking fit me, baby, y-you’re stuffed.” He choked out. He pressed down again, and your eyes rolled back in your head, and you drooled onto the couch.
“Hck, fuck fuck fuck fuck..” You chanted as his plump cock molded you.
Jimin was arguably in a worse state than you, hair stuck to his forehead, lips parted, and sweat dripping down his face. He could barely speak; he could only dig deeper and deeper into you, addicted to your body’s reactions and the warm, wet drool of your cunt. He bought a hand up, pinching your nipples, and you arched into his touch.
You felt a familiar heat accumulating in the pit of your stomach, and somehow your trembling fingers travelled between your legs to mess with your swollen, weeping cunt. You shook as you started circling your fingerpad of your peeking, tender clit, trying to chase your high.
“W-wanna cum that badly, don’t you?” His fingers replaced yours quickly, and he rubbed at your clit with the same intensity he was pistoning against you. Your hands clawed at his.
“W-wait, wait, it’s too much! J-Jimin, it’s too much!” You babbled stupidly, but Jimin didn’t care.
“Nothing is too much for you, baby, you can take it.” He pinched at your pink nub, abusing it.
You couldn’t say anything, too fucked out to even care how he was using you. You could only receive his rabid touch. A harsh rosy flush rose on Jimin’s chest as he thrusted into you, harder, faster, deeper, than he had ever before. No woman had made him so out of control, so pussy drunk that all he cared about was staying with you. He ground his hips deeper, letting his cock head kiss your cervix, and his eyes rolled back at the plump sensation.
“S-shit, I think I’m close too.” He murmured, more to himself, and kept grinding his cock in circles, refusing to pull out. His fingers continued their assault on your clit, rubbing shapes and designs he knew would send you over the edge.
Your eyes kept opening and closing, and Jimin almost felt bad, almost, that you could barely keep up with him. But he knew you were enjoying this even more than he was; no one else could ever bring you to this point.
He shifted his hips, angling his cock, and started his deep, solid thrusts again, not pulling out enough to leave your warmth. He bought his head dance and wrapped his lips around a rosy nipple, suckling and biting to taste and feel all of you at once. The soft feeling of your chubby breast pushed against his face was exhilarating.
You panted at the multitude of feelings, and then suddenly felt a strange sensation, like you were about to burst at the seams.
“J-Jim-” You got cut off at the sudden splash of your juices on his bare abdomen, and hot white pleasure blinded your vision. Your voice shattered as you let out a high-pitched, broken moan, unable to contain yourself.
Jimin was in awe. There was no way you had squirted all over his cock the first time he’d fucked you, but he didn’t pause to admire; he couldn’t, he was too greedy. He kept up his thrusts, gripping onto you as he did so.
“F-fucking squirted all o-over me, dirty girl.” He moaned.
“I- Oh shit!” You tried to start your sentence, an apology maybe for the mess you made, but couldn’t, succumbing to his unrelenting pace, driving you to the edge again. You were right there, once again, right at the teetering edge of a harsh orgasm.
You clenched, hard, stilling him. Jimin bottomed out and trembled as he tried to shift, but instead came. He cried out loudly, and his hot cum spurted out, right inside you, filling you up to the brim.
You whined at the warm full feeling, and your orgasm crashed over you, this one weaker but sending shivers down your spine. Your thighs trembled, and your tear-stained cheeks streaked with more fresh tears as you came.
A second passed, but he didn’t have the strength to pull out just yet, but he watched you with heavy, clouded eyes. His beautiful little girlfriend, leaking with his cum.
Finally, he pulled out, and you both flinched at the loss of tender warmth, and he collapsed next to you.
The silence that followed was deafening. He stayed there for a long moment, breathing against your shoulder, heartbeat wild.. Then his voice—hoarse, raw—broke the quiet.
“Did I hurt you?”
You shook your head, still catching your breath, and his gaze burned in the side of your cheek. You met his stare, slowly, and for a heartbeat, the room went still. His eyes were soft and warm, large and doe-like, so unlike him just seconds ago.
He traced his thumb along your cheekbone, wiping away the dampness there. “You did so well.”
Your chest tightened. “Did I?”
He sighed, voice low, steady. “Sweetheart. You did so good.” His fingers slipped down to your neck, tracing your pulse. “You let go. You trusted me.”
He paused, eyes flicking between your lips and your face, like he was trying to memorize every inch. “That’s all I ever wanted from you.” His eyes were like melted chocolate, dripping and swirling you in as they stayed on you steadily. You felt a bubble form in your throat.
“Jimin,” you whispered, hesitant, still dazed from how different he suddenly felt.
“Hmm?” He hummed
“I really like you.” You confessed, your pulse fluttered.
His mouth curved at the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner. “Yeah?” he said, his voice dipping lower, rich and teasing in that way of his. “I like you even more, baby.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his chest. “How could I not? You’re so easy to like.”
“Even though I’m not as experienced?” You inquired gently.
He shook his head lightly, eyes never leaving yours. “That doesn’t matter,” he whispered, voice warm but firm. “Never does.”
Your lips parted, but you couldn’t find your voice.
“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a while.” He placed his hand over yours.
“Really?” You felt elated, the dull throb between your legs feeling like nothing compared to the flowery feeling blooming in your chest.
“Really.” He sealed it with a kiss, unhurriedly and slowly, lingering just long enough to steal your breath when he finally pulled back.
“Get some rest now,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. It wasn’t a command, not really. Jimin couldn’t be demanding of you, but you obeyed anyway, eyes fluttering shut as his hand found its place on you again.
While you started dozing off against him, Jimin thought back on his words.
No, you weren’t just the best thing that had happened to him in a while.
You were the best thing that had ever happened to him.
⤷"mini" one-shot!! in which....The perilla leaf debate in general is supposed to be nothing more than a stupid internet argument, until Jungkook nearly starts a war at dinner over Jimin helping you separate yours.
pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x fem!reader
warnings: friends to lovers, jk is down horrendous, jealousy over vegetables, mutual pining, lovesick idiot behavior, perilla leaves almost ruin a friendship, secondhand embarrassment, yearning, jimin stirs the pot for fun, kissing, tooth-rotting fluff, jk loses the perilla leaf war but gets the girl
word count: 1,5k
masterlist
The group chat has been blowing up since 4 p.m.
taehyung: pls tell me someone wants to go have dinner tonight. i'm dying of academic boredom
hobi: literally same. i haven't seen sunlight in 3 days
namjoon: i found this place downtown. it's called "korean fusion." wait, i'll send the address.
jimin: i hope everyone is coming... unless i might have to delete a certain someone's animal crossing save files
you: threats??? really???
jk: she's coming
you: umh??? i didn't even answer yet
jungkook: you're coming
The restaurant is the most Instagrammable place you've ever seen, and you would have gotten there faster if your roommate hadn't been in desperate need of moral support over a situationship. You see Jungkook look up at you the second you enter his peripheral vision.
"Finally," Taehyung says.
"Sorry, sorry." You slide into the booth, and there's only one spot left, wedged between Jimin and the wall, directly across from Jungkook. "Emergency friend duties."
"More important than us?" Hobi asks.
"You'll live," you say, but you're not paying attention because Jungkook is still staring at you. Your eyes meet. He doesn't look away. Your stomach flips, and you wonder if you should have done this another day because emotional rollercoasters don't sound like a great idea on an empty stomach.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," you say back.
A few minutes later, the drinks and the banchan arrive. Jungkook is laughing at something Taehyung is saying, beer in hand, but he keeps glancing at you every time you reach for the banchan. You don't notice as you are trying your best to separate the stack of perilla leaves.
"Oh my God," you mutter, trying to separate them with your chopsticks. "Why are they like this?"
"Here," Jimin says, and his chopsticks slide in from your left, holding the stack steady while you pull one free.
"Thank you," you breathe, relieved, and you don't see the way Jungkook's knuckles go white around his glass.
You look up, and Jungkook is staring at Jimin, and it's nothing like the soft, longing looks he's been throwing your way all night. Jimin, oblivious, or perhaps not, hums as he sets the separated leaves on your plate.
"Jungkook-ah," Namjoon says from across the table. "Pass the garlic?"
Jungkook passes it without looking up.That's when you realize he's staring at the perilla leaves.
Oh.
Oh no.
You know about the perilla leaf debate. Everyone knows about the perilla leaf debate. It's a stupid thing where people argue whether it's okay to help someone else's partner separate their perilla leaves, whether it crosses a line, or not. Usually, usually, it's just internet debates and topics for variety shows.
Jungkook, however, looks like he's about to flip the table.
"So," Jimin says, "how's work been? Did you finish that powerpoint presentation?"
"Yeah, finally," you start to say, but Jungkook cuts in.
"She finished it yesterday," he says, pouring soju into your glass without asking.
Jimin's eyebrows lift. "Did she?"
"Mhm. She texted me at three in the morning," Jungkook says.
Namjoon looks up from his phone. Hobi pauses with his mouth full.
"Jungkook, that's not-" you say, blushing.
"Do you want some meat?" he asks instead, grabbing the kitchen scissors and carefully cutting the grilled pork belly into bite-sized pieces before placing them on your plate.
"Thanks..." you say slowly.
Jimin watches with his head tilted. He looks between you and Jungkook, then back to the perilla leaves.
"Ah," Jimin says softly.
"Ah what?" Taehyung asks.
"Nothing," Jimin says with a grin. He reaches for the perilla leaves again. "Do you want another one? These are really good." His chopsticks hover over the stack.
Jungkook's chopsticks hit his plate with a clatter.
"You don't have to. I'll do it," Jungkook says quickly.
"It's fine," Jimin says sweetly, separating another leaf. "I don't mind."
"I said," Jungkook replies, enunciating each word, "I'll do it."
He takes the leaf from Jimin's chopsticks and places it on your plate himself. Then he looks at Jimin with an expression that makes your stomach flip.
"Jungkook..." you say quietly.
"Eat," he tells you, looking at you with those soft eyes that could kill you.
Jimin leans back, studying Jungkook.
"What is it?" Hobi asks, looking between them.
"Just... perilla leaves," Jimin says. "You know the debate, right? Whether it's okay to help someone else's person with their leaves?"
The table goes absolutely silent and you want to disappear into the floor.
"Guys, seriously, it's not-"
"Some people think it's too intimate," Jimin continues, looking at Jungkook.
"And what do you think?" you ask.
Jimin shrugs playfully. "I think intention matters."
"What's your intention?" Jungkook asks.
Jimin holds his gaze for a long moment. Then he laughs, breaking the tension, and reaches over to pat Jungkook on the shoulder.
"Relax, maknae. I'm just teasing."
The rest of dinner passes quickly. Every time Jimin speaks to you, Jungkook finds a reason to touch you or get your attention. For the first time, it's not meant to be subtle. It's almost like a competition to see who hands you your coat when you leave or who walks closest to you on the way out.
Everyone agrees to walk to the Han River, grab some ice cream from a convenience store, and sit on the benches by the water. None of you are ready to go home yet.
You hang back, letting the others drift ahead. Jungkook stays beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets.
"You didn't have to do that," you say quietly.
"Do what?"
"Mark your territory."
He stops walking. You stop too, turning to face him.
"Is that what you think I was doing?" he asks.
"I don't know what you were doing, Jungkook. You acted like Jimin committed a crime by helping me with dinner."
He looks away. "You don't get it."
"Then explain it to me."
"The perilla leaf thing is stupid. I know it's stupid. But...I always want to be the one helping you. And I know I don't have the right to feel like that, but I do."
"Jungkook..." you say softly, trying to get him to look at you.
"Don't say whatever you're going to say. Let me just... let me have this one moment where I pretend it's okay that I feel this way, even though I'm your friend and I'm supposed to just be cool with Jimin flirting with you."
"He wasn't flirting."
"He was," Jungkook insists, finally looking at you. "Maybe he didn't mean it like that, but he was, and I hated it. I hated it so much. I wanted to be the one helping you, even with something as stupid as perilla leaves."
"You know," you say softly, "you could have just said something instead of starting a silent war at the dinner table."
"I don't know how to say things," he admits. "I only know how to... want... from a distance."
"That's the problem," you say as you reach out, your fingers finding his. His hand relaxes, and he threads his fingers through yours. "You think you're being subtle, but you're not. Everyone at that table knows exactly what's happening."
"Did you?"
"Yeah." You smile. "I know... and I think I've been waiting for you to help me with my perilla leaves for a pretty long time now."
"Don't joke."
"I'm not joking."
"Jimin was testing you, Kook."
"Testing me?"
"Yeah. He was messing with you. It was so obvious he was challenging you. He wanted to see if you'd finally do something about it." You smile. "He's not stupid. He saw it before either of us did."
Jungkook groans. "So I played right into his hands."
"And you were very dramatic about it," you say with a sigh.
"Shut up," he says, smiling.
"I liked it. I really like it when you stop being quiet about wanting."
He takes another small step closer. "So... can I help you with your perilla leaves next time?"
"Only if you're not doing it just to be polite."
He smiles nervously "I'm doing it because I want to be the person you reach for."
You look at him, at the tiny chocolate-chip mole beneath his lip that you've wanted to kiss for months.
Then you do.
You have to.
He's standing there with his heart in his hands, offering it to you like it's nothing.
His hands come up to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing softly along your jaw as he kisses you back.
When you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours.
"Does this mean I won the war?" he asks, breathless.
"You were the only one fighting it, you idiot," you laugh, giving his chest a light shove. "Jimin wasn't actually interested. He has a crush on the barista at his coffee shop."
Jungkook blinks. "What?"
"Namjoon told me last week."
He stares at you, dropping his head to your shoulder. "I made a fool of myself for nothing."
"Not for nothing," you say, running your fingers gently through his soft hair. "You finally stopped being quiet."
He lifts his head.
"I can be loud," he says. "If you want. About this, about you."
"Show me."
"Gladly."
And he does. He kisses you again, deeper this time, and you smile against his lips.
Then Taehyung's voice carries over from farther up the path.
"Finally! Took you long enough!"
You laugh into his mouth and pull him even closer.
The heavy glass doors of the boutique hissed shut behind you, but the clinical chill of the air conditioning did nothing to cool the fire simmering under your skin. This wasn't just a shopping trip; it was a declaration of war. After the explosive argument you’d had with Jimin this morning, you had set out with one goal: to see how many zeros you could drain from his bank account before he noticed.
Jimin was the type of man who would happily drape you in diamonds if you asked, but he loathed being manipulated. He hated this game,the way you used his own wealth as a weapon against his patience.
"How would y-you like to pay, ma'am?" the sales assistant stammered, her gaze darting nervously between your cold expression and the wall of stone-faced guards looming behind you.
"Card," you replied curtly, sliding Jimin’s signature black card across the marble counter.
You waited, tapping your manicured nails against the surface, already imagining the look on his face when the transaction alerts began flooding his phone. But as the seconds ticked by, the assistant’s face paled.
"Um, excuse me, ma'am... it seems your card has been... declined. It’s blocked."
Your heart skipped a beat, but not out of embarrassment. Out of pure, unadulterated fury. "What? No way. Try it again."
"I did, ma'am. It’s not going through."
You scoffed, reaching into your Chanel clutch and pulling out a secondary card. "Use this one."
Another minute of agonizing silence followed. The assistant looked like she wanted to disappear into the floorboards as she handed it back with trembling fingers. "This one isn't working either, ma'am."
You felt your jaw tighten until it ached. Jimin. That calculated, arrogant traitor. He hadn't just anticipated your move; he had dismantled it before you even reached the mall.
You settled the balance through a private transfer from your personal account, a bitter pill to swallow and swept out of the store. Every step toward the waiting car was fueled by a fresh wave of adrenaline.
As the door of the SUV clicked shut, you sank into the leather seat, staring out the tinted window. You had underestimated him. You often forgot that beneath the doting husband was a man whose wit was as sharp as his ego. Jimin wasn't the type to just sit back and let you bleed him dry out of spite. He was always one step ahead, playing a game of chess while you were still throwing pieces.
The war wasn't over, but round one clearly belonged to Park Jimin.
The car hadn't even come to a full stop before you were out, the gravel crunching beneath your designer heels as you stormed toward the massive front doors. You didn't just enter the mansion; you invaded it.
The living room was quiet, save for the low murmur of business talk. Jimin was perched on the sofa, looking effortlessly composed as he scrolled through a tablet. His assistant stood nearby, and Taehyung, Jimin’s closest associate was lounging in the armchair opposite him.
"Park Jimin!" Your voice roared through the high ceilings, sharp enough to cut the air.
The assistant visibly flinched, shifting on his feet. Taehyung’s eyes darted from you to Jimin, a silent 'here we go' written all over his face. Jimin, however, didn't even flinch. A slow, infuriating smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his fingers continued to dance across the screen.
"I am talking to you!" you snapped, your chest heaving with indignation.
Finally, he looked up. His gaze was cool, hooded, and entirely too calm for your liking. "Yes, love?"
With a dismissive wave of his hand, he signaled for the others to leave. Taehyung let out a weary sigh, pushing himself up and shoving his hands into his pockets. He spared Jimin a pointed look. "Fix your shit, man," he muttered under his breath before heading toward the exit.
The moment the doors clicked shut, Jimin returned his attention to the tablet. The blatant disregard was the final straw. You lunged forward and snatched the device right out of his hand.
"Y/N," he said, his voice dropping an octave. There was a dangerous edge to his tone, a warning you were far too angry to heed.
"What?! You fucking blocked my cards! Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?" you screamed, the embarrassment of the boutique rushing back to haunt you.
Jimin stood up slowly, his tall frame looming over yours until you were forced to tilt your head back. The proximity was stifling, charged with a tension that felt like static electricity.
"Was it? Then perhaps you shouldn't have behaved like such a brat the other night," he said, his voice terrifyingly steady.
"I was behaving like a brat? You didn't come to the event, Jimin!" You jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating every word. "I had to stand there and make excuses for you all night while everyone whispered!"
He didn't move. He simply looked down at your finger against his shirt, then back into your eyes. "Careful, baby. I don't like that tone."
"Shove what you like up your ass," you hissed. You reached into your handbag, gripped the two useless pieces of plastic, and flung them directly at his face. "And shove these while you're at it!"
You didn't wait for a reaction. You turned on your heel and stormed toward the grand staircase, the echoes of your footsteps matching the frantic beating of your heart.
It had all spiraled from yesterday. Your charity gala—the event you had spent months planning—had been a solo performance because Jimin claimed he had important work. The humiliation of answering a hundred variations of "Where is your husband?" had boiled over into a screaming match last night, ending with you locking him out of the master suite.
You had wanted to hurt his pride. He had responded by cutting off your lifeline.
As you reached the bedroom door, you knew one thing for certain, in the high-stakes game of the Park marriage, the honeymoon phase had officially been replaced by scorched earth.
°
The bedroom was bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun, the silence heavy and suffocating. Jimin stepped inside, the rhythmic click of his shoes on the hardwood floor the only sound. He loosened his tie, the tension of the day still knotted in his shoulders.
"Y/n?" he called out, tossing his blazer onto the chaise lounge. No response. He checked the ensuite bathroom, then the walk-in closet—nothing but the lingering scent of your perfume.
He sighed, a low, frustrated sound. He knew you; you weren't just hiding. You were making a point. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his phone and dialed your number, only to be met with the cold finality of your voicemail. He immediately diverted the call to your lead security detail.
"Where is she?" he demanded, pacing the length of the room like a caged predator.
"At her parents' estate, sir."
"I told you to inform me the second she goes somewhere!" he hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. He didn't wait for an excuse. He grabbed his blazer and headed for the garage, the engine of his car roaring to life seconds later.
The atmosphere at your parents' house was a stark contrast to the cold war at the mansion. When Jimin walked in, he found you nestled on the sofa between your father and Liam—a "family friend" whose very existence had always been a thorn in Jimin’s side.
"Jimin! What a surprise," your mother exclaimed, balancing a tray of fresh cookies.
Jimin offered your parents a practiced, polite greeting, but his eyes were locked on you. You didn't even look up, instead choosing to lean slightly closer to Liam as you scoffed. Jimin’s jaw tightened. He hated the way Liam looked at you, and he hated even more that you were using him as a shield.
"Come, Jimin, sit down," your father gestured toward an armchair.
"No, thank you. I’m just here for Y/n," Jimin replied, his voice clipped.
You finally looked at him, crossing your legs and arms in a defensive posture that screamed defiance. "I’m not coming back."
The air in the room grew thick with sudden tension. Your mother glanced between the two of you, her eyebrows shooting up in a silent interrogation. What have you done now?
"Y/n," Jimin repeated, his patience fraying at the edges. "We’re leaving."
"Y/n, sweetheart, what is this?" your mother interjected, trying to play peacemaker. "Did you two have a fight?"
"Maybe they did," Liam chimed in, his tone casually provocative. He leaned back, a smug look on his face. "Let her be, Jimin. It looks like you're the one in the wrong here."
That was it. The small thread of Jimin’s restraint snapped. He ignored Liam entirely, treating him like a buzzing insect, and marched straight toward you. Before you could even register the movement, he leaned down, hooked his arm firmly around your waist, and hoisted you over his shoulder in one fluid, powerful motion.
"Jimin! Put me down!" you squealed, your face flushing as you began to hammer your fists against his broad back.
"Mom! Dad! Do something!"
But your parents merely exchanged a knowing look and shared a small, amused smile. They knew Jimin, and they knew you; this was just another Tuesday in the volatile world of the Parks.
"Goodnight, everyone," Jimin called out over your protests, his grip like iron as he carried his prize out toward the car.
The drive back was a symphony of silence, punctuated only by the aggressive click of your tongue and the hum of the engine. The moment the car rolled to a stop, you bolted, slamming the door with a bone-rattling force that echoed through the driveway.
Jimin was right on your heels, his stride effortless but determined. "Y/n, stop."
You reached the bedroom and tried to shove the heavy oak door shut, but his foot was already there, acting as a solid wedge. He pushed his way inside with a calm strength that only infuriated you further. You whirled around, eyes flashing with lightning.
"What is this, Y/n? Are you a child?" he asked, his voice low and level.
"Fuck off!"
"Y/n." He stepped into your personal space, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, but you swatted his hand away violently.
"Get away! Go!" You began a frantic assault of palms against his chest, your hands drumming a rhythm of frustration against his firm muscles. He let you vent for a heartbeat before his hand shot out, capturing both of your wrists in a single, unbreakable grip. He let out a long, weary sigh.
"I am sorry," he murmured, his eyes searching yours. "I should have been at the event I was wrong, and I’m sorry."
You glared up at him, your chest heaving. "An apology doesn't fix it! You didn't call me all day! And then you had the audacity to block my cards!"
A ghost of a smirk played on Jimin’s lips. "I unlocked them this morning, love."
Your anger faltered for a fraction of a second. "You did?"
"Yes." He released your wrists, his thumb grazing your pulse point before he stepped back.
You quickly recovered, crossing your arms and pouting. "I’m not melting. Not a chance. Go away."
You sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. Jimin followed, but instead of sitting beside you, he dropped to his knees on the floor. His hand found your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, hypnotic circles against the fabric of your skirt.
"I'm sorry, baby. Truly," he pleaded.
He looked up at you, his sharp, intimidating features softening into an expression of pure, unadulterated devotion. It was the puppy eyes—the one weapon in his arsenal you hadn't built a defense for. No one in the outside world would believe that the ruthless Park Jimin was currently on his knees, begging for his wife’s forgiveness.
You felt your throat go dry. "Fuck off," you whispered, though the bite was gone from your voice.
Jimin’s eyes darkened, the "uppy facade vanishing to reveal the predator beneath. "You want the exact opposite of that, don't you?"
He leaned forward, his lips pressing a lingering, searing kiss to the sensitive skin of your knee. You gasped softly as he began to pepper your thighs with slow, deliberate kisses, his gaze never leaving yours. Slowly, almost traitorously, your knees began to part for him.
He urged your thighs further apart, his hands sliding up to bunch the fabric of your skirt. Jimin’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of your lace panties, the silk already darkened and clinging to your skin.
"When did you get this wet for me, huh?" he whispered against your skin, his voice a gravelly caress that made you ache.
The friction of his lips against your inner thighs sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. Your breath hitched, your chest heaving as the last remnants of your anger dissolved into pure, primal need.
"Fuck!" You groaned, your fingers tangling in his soft hair. You didn't just pull him closer; you guided his face directly into the heat radiating from between your legs.
Jimin let out a low, vibrating hum of approval, his mouth pressing firmly against the silk of your panties. He didn't wait. He nipped at the fabric, his tongue swirling over your folds until the damp lace offered no more resistance.
"Ah!" Your head fell back against the pillows, a desperate sound escaping your throat.
"So good," he whispered, his voice a dark rasp against your skin as he finally hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slid the lace down your legs. He didn't waste a second, burying his face in your softness and dragging his tongue over your clit in long, punishing strokes.
The room filled with the sound of your dangerous noises—the kind of wrecked, breathless moans that only he could draw out of you. Jimin gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you steady as he transitioned from teasing licks to deep, rhythmic laps. He pushed his tongue inside you, mimicking the motion of a thrust, while his thumb found your peak and circled it with dizzying speed.
"Jimin... more! Please!" you cried out, your knuckles whitening as you tugged at his hair.
He hummed against you, a vibration that rattled your very bones, and suddenly two fingers were sliding inside, hot and insistent. He began to massage your internal walls, his rhythm relentless.
"Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Clench for me," he growled.
You obeyed, your muscles spasming around his intrusion. The combination was too much—the suction of his mouth on your clit and the friction of his fingers deep inside you. You were a beautiful mess of squirming limbs and broken pleas until the first wave of your climax hit, sending a shudder through your entire frame. You came hard, your release coating his hand, and you could only gasp as he slowly licked every drop of you from his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Fuck yeah... lick me clean, baby," you panted, your voice thick with honey.
Jimin’s smirk returned, dark and possessive. He delivered a sharp, playful slap against your sensitive skin, making you jump and moan all over again. Before you could catch your breath, he was back at it, his fingers working even faster.
"I can't... it's too much..." you whimpered, trying to pull your thighs together to escape the overwhelming sensation.
"No," he murmured, prying your legs back open and pinning them wide. "Squirt for me, baby. I want to see you lose it."
He intensified the assault, his fingers curling against your G-spot while his thumb hammered against your clit. The tension built until it felt like a physical weight in your chest. You whined, your body arching off the bed as the edge loomed closer.
"Ahh, fuck... J-Jimin!"
"Do it. Give it all to me."
A loud, broken cry tore from your lungs as a gush of liquid erupted from you. Jimin didn't flinch; he watched with hooded, hungry eyes as you clenched and pulsed, his tongue catching the liquid as it fell. You were shaking now, your legs trembling uncontrollably from the sheer force of it.
Finally, he pulled back. He took the two fingers that had been deep inside you and slid them into his own mouth, sucking them clean with a slow, deliberate sensuality that made your heart race for an entirely different reason.
"I am sorry," he said again, his voice dropping to that soft, melodic tone that always won you over.
You couldn't help the small, triumphant smile that tugged at your lips. Reaching out, you grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upward. He hovered over you, his weight a welcome pressure, and as his lips met yours.
In which you come to Seoul for a summer law internship already drowning in the pressure of qualifying as a solicitor, only for your carefully planned life to become ten times harder when you keep crossing paths with an annoyingly attractive stranger named Jungkook. You don’t know he’s South Korea’s most beloved star, and he doesn’t know why the only person unimpressed by him is suddenly the one he can’t stay away from.
Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Law student!reader
Genre: Forced proximity | Romance | Slice of life | Slow burn | Fluff | Enemies to lovers | Comedy
Warnings/content: Jungkook x Reader, Law Student Reader, Summer Internship, Study Abroad, Hidden Identity, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Celebrity Romance, Secret Relationship, Opposites Attract, Tension, Flirting, Late Night Talks, Protective Jungkook, Jealousy, Emotional Slow Burn, Kisses, Mutual Pining, Seoul Summer, Career Pressure, Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Drama, Happy Ending
Word Count: 9.3k
A/N: This was such a fun one to write because as a law student myself the idea of spending a summer studying abroad has always sounded like a dream to me, so creating this story felt like living that fantasy a little. There’s just something about putting two stubborn people together and watching the tension build that makes me obsessed already, and i honestly loved writing a reader who has her own ambitions and goals outside of romance too. Sooo if you liked it, please drop me a like and repost, and let me know in the comments if you want a part 2 ;))
The second the sliding doors of Incheon International Airport opened, a wave of warm air hit your face, thick with summer heat and the unfamiliar scent of somewhere new.
You barely registered any of it.
Your suitcase bumped uselessly behind you while your eyes stayed locked on your phone, thumb scrolling through your emails before switching back to LinkedIn for the hundredth time that day. Empty inbox. No updates. No responses. No signs of life from any of the firms you’d applied to.
Then suddenly—your phone was gone.
“Oi—” You looked up sharply. “Are you insane?”
Hikari held your phone above her head with one hand, sunglasses slipping down her nose. “Are you insane? Babe, we just landed in South Korea and the first thing you do is open LinkedIn.”
“I was checking something.”
“You were checking unemployment.”
“I was checking my future.”
She barked out a laugh. “Your future can wait five minutes. There are men walking around built like final bosses and you’re reading rejection emails that haven’t even arrived yet.”
“No because that’s the issue,” you groaned, reaching for your phone and missing. “There aren’t even rejection emails. It’s been weeks since I sent like a hundred applications and not one firm has replied. At least tell me no so I can heal and move on.”
Hikari clutched her chest. “That is cruel. That is emotionally abusive.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s workplace harassment before you’ve even got the job.”
“Exactly!”
She handed your phone back at last. “You need serious help.”
“I need a training contract.”
“You need a man.”
You stopped dead in the middle of the pavement. “I need you to shut up.”
“I’m being so serious.” She hooked her arm through yours and dragged you toward the taxi rank. “You’re twenty-one, smart, mildly attractive on a good day—”
“Mildly?”
“Focus on the compliment. You literally know Korean. Utilise it.”
You stared at her in disbelief. “You know damn well I had no choice but to learn Korean for my poly-language course. I didn’t do it to hunt men.”
“Missed opportunity.”
“I did it to escape the trenches of public law.”
The two of you fell silent for a moment before physically shuddering in sync.
Hikari grimaced. “Don’t say that subject name around me again.”
“Judicial review,” you muttered.
She gagged dramatically. “You are vile.”
“Delegated legislation.”
“Stop talking.”
You laughed despite yourself, the tension in your chest loosening for the first time in weeks. Around you, taxis lined the curb, neon signs glowed in the distance, and the city hummed with energy that made your pulse quicken.
Maybe this was exactly what you needed. A few months away from deadlines, applications, and the constant fear of failing before you’d even begun.
Hikari squeezed your arm. “Calling it now. By the end of this summer, you’re either getting a job offer or getting railed.”
You nearly tripped over your suitcase. “Hikari!”
She shrugged. “I’m just manifesting options.”
You shook your head, muttering something about needing new friends as the two of you joined the taxi queue outside the airport. Around you, people moved in quick, purposeful streams—families reuniting, business travellers already on calls, tourists dragging suitcases twice their size. Everything felt fast, polished, awake.
You, on the other hand, were one inconvenience away from lying down on the pavement.
Hikari raised a hand the second a black taxi pulled forward. “See?” she said smugly. “The universe provides.”
“The universe is a licensed driver.”
“It’s still on my side.”
The driver stepped out to help with your luggage, and before you could stop her, Hikari cheerfully gestured to you. “Go on. Use your Korean.”
You blinked at her. “Why am I suddenly customer service?”
“Because I’m pretty and useless.”
“At least you’re self-aware.”
Suppressing a laugh, you greeted the driver in Korean and confirmed the hotel address. He nodded politely and loaded your suitcases into the boot while Hikari watched you like a proud stage mother.
“That,” she said as you climbed into the back seat, “was deeply attractive.”
“I said hello.”
“You said it internationally.”
The taxi pulled away from the terminal, merging into a stream of traffic as the airport lights gave way to long stretches of road and, eventually, the first hints of the city skyline. Tower blocks glimmered in the distance, neon signs flashing between darkened streets, everything looking cinematic in a way that felt almost unreal after months of grey lecture halls and library fluorescent lighting.
For a moment, neither of you said anything.
Then Hikari leaned over dramatically. “Do you think this driver knows any rich men?”
You closed your eyes. “I need silence.”
“You need networking.”
“I need eight consecutive hours of unconsciousness.”
She gasped. “You’re so negative.”
“I’m jet-lagged.”
“You’re spiritually jet-lagged.”
You turned to look at her. “What does that even mean?”
“It means your aura needs moisturising.”
“You make me tired.”
She patted your knee sympathetically. “That’s because I challenge you.”
The driver’s shoulders shook slightly, like he was trying not to laugh.
“Oh my God,” you whispered. “He understands English.”
Hikari straightened immediately. “Sir, if you know any successful single men under thirty, please let me know. My friend is in crisis.”
You lunged across the seat. “Ignore her!”
The driver finally laughed outright, and humiliation burned hot across your face while Hikari looked delighted with herself.
“This is why no firm emails me back,” you muttered. “Bad karma.”
“No,” Hikari said, checking her reflection in the window. “It’s because they fear powerful women.”
“They don’t know me.”
“They sense it.”
The hotel came into view twenty minutes later—glass-fronted, modern, far nicer than anything you’d expected when booking on a student budget. You sat up straighter immediately.
“Oh,” you said. “Wait. This is nice.”
Hikari smirked. “Obviously. Did you think I’d let us stay somewhere tragic?”
“I thought we were staying somewhere affordable.”
“Same thing if you’re strategic.”
“That sentence means nothing.”
Once inside, the lobby was all marble floors, soft gold lighting, and the kind of expensive scent that made you suddenly conscious of how creased your clothes were. Staff moved around with impossible elegance while you dragged your suitcase behind you like a goblin.
Hikari, meanwhile, somehow looked refreshed.
“How do you still look normal?” you asked while she approached reception.
“Discipline.”
“You have mascara under one eye.”
“Fashion.”
Check-in was smooth, and the second you were handed the room key card, relief nearly made you emotional.
The lift ride up was quiet except for Hikari taking selfies in the mirrored walls while you stared blankly at your own reflection.
“I look like I’ve seen war,” you said.
“You look travelled.”
“I look damp.”
The room itself was compact but gorgeous—two neatly made beds, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, crisp white sheets, and air conditioning cold enough to heal trauma.
You dropped your bag by the door, kicked off your shoes, and threw yourself face-first onto the nearest bed.
The mattress accepted you instantly.
“This,” you mumbled into the duvet, “is where I live now.”
“Like hell you are.”
You felt the mattress dip as Hikari launched herself onto the opposite bed, then immediately bounced back up with renewed purpose. “We, my friend, are going to explore the city. Starting with what it has to offer my stomach.”
You didn’t move. “Tell your stomach I said congratulations.”
“It says thank you and get up.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, physically I’m past that point. My body has clocked out.”
She stood over you with her hands on her hips. “You are being dramatic.”
“I am being realistic.”
“You’re horizontal in jeans.”
“That’s how serious this is.”
Hikari grabbed one of the pillows and smacked you with it.
You lifted your head just enough to glare at her. “Violence. In a foreign country.”
“Get dressed.”
“I am dressed.”
“You look like you lost a custody battle.”
You groaned and rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling. “Can we please just order room service and rot in peace?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because we did not come all the way to Seoul for you to fuse with hotel linen.”
“I came here for an internship.”
“You came here for character development.”
“I came here because every firm in London decided to collectively ignore me.”
The joke landed flatter than usual.
Hikari’s expression softened a little. She sat down at the edge of your bed and nudged your ankle. “Hey.”
You looked away toward the window. “I know it sounds stupid.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It does. We literally just got here and I’m sulking over emails.”
“You’re stressed,” she said simply. “There’s a difference.”
You exhaled slowly.
“It’s just…” You rubbed a hand over your face. “Everyone keeps acting like if I don’t get everything sorted now, I’m behind already. Vacation schemes, training contracts, applications, networking, grades. It never stops.”
Hikari was quiet for a second, then flicked your forehead.
“Ow.”
“Firstly, dramatic. Secondly, you are the smartest person I know.”
“That’s terrifying for society.”
“I’m serious.” She pointed at you sternly. “You work harder than anyone, you somehow survive on iced coffee and panic, and you’re going to qualify one day whether those firms reply this week or next year.”
“Next year would be suboptimal.”
“My point,” she said louder, “is don’t let silence from a few dusty firms convince you you’re failing.”
You snorted despite yourself. “Dusty firms?”
“Yes. Dusty, musty, probably using microsoft word 2007. They don’t deserve your tears.”
“I wasn’t crying.”
“You were spiritually close.”
You smiled into the pillow.
“Even smart people need breaks,” she continued. “Even future solicitors need to eat dumplings and touch grass.”
“I hate when you’re right.”
“I know. It’s my burden.”
She sprang up suddenly and clapped once. “Now get up.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me.”
“I have nothing left to lose.”
That was apparently the wrong answer, because she seized your wrist and began dragging you across the mattress.
You immediately went limp.
“Oh my God,” she snapped. “Did you just dead-weight me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re evil.”
“You’re stronger than you look.”
“You’re heavier than you look.”
“That was personal.”
With a heroic grunt, she managed to yank you upright until you were sitting on the edge of the bed looking deeply offended.
“There,” she said, panting slightly. “Vertical. We’re making progress.”
“I’ll remember this betrayal.”
“You can journal about it over dinner.”
Ten minutes later, after Hikari physically handing you a cleaner top and threatening to leave without you, the two of you were back in the lift heading downstairs.
You leaned against the mirrored wall. “If I collapse in public, tell people I died pursuing culture.”
“I’ll tell them you died being stubborn.”
The city hit differently at street level. Warm air, bright signs, traffic humming, groups of friends laughing outside convenience stores, music drifting from somewhere unseen. Everything felt alive.
You tucked your hands into your pockets as Hikari looked around like she’d personally built the place.
“Where are we even going?” you asked.
“Somewhere with food.”
“That narrows it down.”
“Somewhere cute with food.”
“Still broad.”
“Somewhere with food and potential husbands.”
“There it is.”
She linked arms with you and began steering you down the pavement. “You joke now, but one good bowl of noodles and one handsome stranger later, your whole attitude could change.”
“My attitude is grounded in reason.”
“Your attitude is grounded in fear.”
“My attitude is grounded in case law.”
Both of you shuddered.
“Disgusting,” she muttered.
“Public law,” you whispered back.
She recoiled. “Don’t ruin the evening.”
For the first time in weeks, your chest felt lighter. The emails, the deadlines, the pressure—they were still there, waiting somewhere beyond this trip. But right now there was only the city, your ridiculous best friend, and the smell of food drifting through the street.
Maybe that was enough for one night.
The streets were quieter than they’d looked from the hotel window, the late hour thinning the crowds to scattered groups of students, delivery drivers, and people who looked far too awake for two in the morning. Most shopfronts were dark, shutters pulled down, chairs stacked on tables behind glass.
You yawned as Hikari dragged you past another closed café. “So your brilliant plan,” you said, “was to search for food at two a.m. in a city we don’t know.”
“My brilliant plan,” she corrected, “was to trust destiny.”
“Destiny appears to be shut.”
She ignored you, peering dramatically left and right like a detective on a case. “There has to be something open. This city loves me too much to let me starve.”
“This city doesn’t know you.”
“It can feel my presence.”
You pulled your phone from your pocket, instinctively opening your inbox. Still nothing. Then Outlook. Still nothing there either.
Before you could refresh for the third time, Hikari snatched the phone clean out of your hand.
“You absolute menace—”
“No.” She held it away from you. “We are not doing corporate self-harm in the middle of the pavement.”
“I was just checking.”
“You checked six minutes ago.”
“A lot can happen in six minutes.”
“Not in graduate recruitment.”
You reached for it. She dodged you with offensive agility.
“Give it back.”
“When you stop acting like outlook is your situationship.”
“It’s not a situationship.”
“It leaves you on delivered and ruins your mood. That’s textbook.”
You hated how accurate that was.
Hikari tucked your phone into her bag for safekeeping and looped her arm through yours before you could protest. “There. Free at last.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m necessary.”
You wandered another block, passing a convenience store glowing fluorescent white and a group of lads laughing outside a karaoke bar. Somewhere in the distance, music thumped through a wall. The city felt softer now—less like a postcard, more like something alive and still moving long after it should’ve slept.
Then Hikari stopped so abruptly you nearly walked into her.
“There,” she breathed.
Across the street, tucked between a closed stationery shop and a laundrette, was a tiny restaurant lit entirely in pink and blue neon. Steam fogged the windows, and a handwritten sign in Korean hung crookedly by the door.
Hikari clutched your arm. “That one is calling my name.”
“You’re insane.”
“Don’t you hear it?” She tilted her head. “It’s literally whispering… Hikari…”
“It’s probably the fridge humming.”
“No. It wants me.”
“It wants paying customers.”
She gasped. “Why do you always reduce magic to economics?”
“Because I study law.”
“That explains so much.”
Before you could say another word, she tugged you across the road.
“You know,” she said casually, “places like this are where life-changing things happen.”
“You mean food poisoning?”
“I mean meet-cutes.”
“I rebuke that energy.”
“You’re too closed off.”
“I’m realistic.”
“You’re twenty-one and allergic to whimsy.”
“I’m allergic to men who say ‘what do you bring to the table?’”
She shuddered. “Fair.”
You reached the door, and she paused to inspect your face. “Actually, maybe tonight’s the night.”
“For what?”
“You meet someone mysterious. Brooding. Beautiful. Emotionally available but with edge.”
“You’ve just described a fictional man.”
“They exist.”
“Name one.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. “That is not the point.”
You smirked. “Exactly.”
Hikari pushed the door open anyway, warm air and the smell of grilled meat rushing out to meet you. “Come on,” she declared. “Worst case scenario, no husband. Best case scenario, noodles and character development.”
You stepped inside after her. “Why is everything to you either romance or personal growth?”
She grinned over her shoulder. “Because both look good on you.”
The restaurant was small but warm, the kind of place that felt lived in. A few tables were occupied by night-shift workers and students hunched over steaming bowls, low conversation humming beneath the clatter of dishes from the kitchen. Neon light from outside painted the windows pink and blue.
Hikari slid into the booth first and immediately grabbed a menu.
“Oh my God,” she whispered reverently. “Look at this.”
You sat opposite her, shrugging off your jacket. “It’s a menu.”
“It’s an opportunity.”
“It’s laminated.”
She ignored you, eyes scanning wildly. “They have dumplings. They have fried chicken. They have noodles. They have rice bowls. They have desserts.”
“That tends to be how restaurants work.”
“I want everything.”
“You physically cannot have everything.”
“Watch me.”
“Hikari.”
“No, because imagine limiting yourself when life is this short.”
“Slow down before the waiter comes over and you embarrass us both.”
She gasped. “I have never embarrassed anyone in my life.”
You stared at her.
“Okay,” she amended, “not intentionally.”
A server approached with a polite smile and notepad in hand. Hikari instantly shoved her menu toward you.
“Your time to shine,” she whispered.
“You are shameless.”
“I am adaptive.”
You ordered in Korean, asking for two portions of dumplings, spicy noodles, fried chicken to share, and drinks. The server nodded, repeated the order back, then left with a small smile.
Hikari looked at you like you’d just levitated.
“Excuse me?” she said. “Since when was your Korean that good?”
You blinked. “What?”
“That was smooth. You sounded like you belong here.”
“I literally asked for food.”
“In another language.”
“Thank you.”
“No, seriously.” She pointed at you accusingly. “Why do you act like being impressive is casual?”
You laughed. “I learnt it for my degree, remember? International studies required a language component. I picked Korean.”
“And then just became fluent in secret?”
“I’m not fluent.”
“You just ordered chicken with confidence. That’s fluency.”
“That is hunger.”
She leaned back in her seat dramatically. “Brains, beauty, employable, bilingual. It’s honestly sickening.”
“Please stop trying to auction me off.”
“I’m just saying, if the law thing fails, marry rich.”
“The law thing is not failing.”
“It was a joke.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
“It was a little funny.”
You tried not to smile. “Maybe a little.”
She smirked. “There she is.”
The drinks arrived first, and the two of you immediately reached for the same one.
“Hands off,” she said.
“You ordered the wrong thing.”
“I ordered adventure.”
“You ordered peach soda.”
“Exactly.”
You laughed and took your own glass instead.
“So,” she said, stirring her drink, “how do you think your final assignment went?”
You groaned instantly. “Don’t bring academia into my safe space.”
“It’s a genuine question.”
“I think contract law went well.”
“Show off.”
“I said I think.”
“You say ‘I think’ when you know you ate.”
“I did not eat.”
“You devoured.”
You rolled your eyes. “Public law was rough.”
Both of you visibly recoiled.
“Vile subject,” Hikari muttered.
“Deeply unnecessary,” you agreed.
“Professor Bennett ruined constitutional theory for me.”
You frowned. “Bennett’s a man.”
“I know. I’m warming up.” She pointed a finger. “Dr Patel though? That woman hates me personally.”
You burst out laughing. “She does not know you.”
“She does. Every seminar she looks directly at me before asking the one reading I didn’t do.”
“That’s because you sit in the front row wearing sunglasses.”
“It’s confidence.”
“It’s insolence.”
Hikari clutched her chest. “Last month she asked me to define parliamentary sovereignty and when I paused she sighed like I’d killed her family.”
You were laughing too hard to respond.
“I’m serious,” Hikari insisted. “That woman has beef with me.”
“She has standards.”
“She has jealousy.”
“Of what?”
“My aura.”
You nearly choked on your drink.
At that exact moment, the food arrived in a wave of steam and glorious smell, cutting off your laughter. Dumplings, glossy noodles, crispy chicken piled high.
Hikari looked down at the table with tears in her eyes.
“See?” she whispered. “This city loves me.”
You looked down at the spread, then back at her. “This city tolerates you at best.”
“It nourishes me,” Hikari corrected, already reaching for a dumpling. “There’s a difference.”
“Can you at least wait two seconds?”
“No. Survival instincts.”
She bit into one immediately, then closed her eyes like she’d ascended.
“Oh wow.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“This is a religious experience.”
You picked up your chopsticks and tried the noodles, heat and spice hitting almost instantly. Your eyes widened.
“Okay,” you admitted. “That’s incredible.”
Hikari pointed triumphantly with half a dumpling in hand. “Exactly. Trust me more.”
“I trust you selectively.”
“You wound me.”
“I protect myself.”
The next few minutes were spent in near silence apart from the occasional hum of appreciation and Hikari trying to steal from your plate every time you looked away.
“Why are you touching my food?” you asked, catching her hand mid-reach.
“Because yours looks better.”
“It’s the same dish.”
“It tastes different when it’s yours.”
“That sentence was nonsense.”
“It was intuition.”
You pushed the chicken farther from her. “Have boundaries.”
“Boundaries are western.”
“That is not true.”
She laughed and leaned back in her seat, satisfied for all of ten seconds before speaking again. “So... what’s the actual plan for the internship?”
You wiped your hands on a napkin. “Orientation Monday. Then I’m placed with their comparative constitutional team for six weeks.”
Her mouth dropped open. “That sounds sexy.”
“It sounds like unpaid labour.”
“It sounds impressive.”
“It sounds like I’ll be formatting documents until my hands cramp.”
She shrugged. “Still. International law girl summer.”
You snorted. “That is not a thing.”
“It is now.”
You looked down at your drink, tracing the condensation on the glass. “I just hope I’m good enough.”
Hikari’s expression changed immediately. Softer. Sharper. The nonsense dialed down.
“You are.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I literally do.”
“It’s different there. Everyone else applying probably has better grades, better experience, better everything.”
“Wrong.”
“That’s not an argument.”
“It’s enough from me.” She leaned forward. “You do this thing where you decide everyone else is more qualified before they’ve even opened their mouths.”
You said nothing.
“And meanwhile,” she continued, “you’re clever, hardworking, bilingual, doing a summer placement abroad, and somehow still convinced you’re behind.”
“I’m not convinced. I’m observing.”
“You’re spiralling.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“You’re being annoying.”
That pulled a laugh out of you. “There she is.”
“I never left.” She reached over and tapped your wrist with her chopsticks. “Listen to me. Some random firms not replying does not define your future.”
“They’re not random.”
“They are to me.”
“I hate when you simplify my problems.”
“I hate when you inflate them.”
You smiled despite yourself.
She smiled back. “Good. Better.”
Then, without warning, she reached into her bag and pulled out your phone.
You sat up. “Why do you still have that?”
“Because you can’t be trusted.”
She glanced at the screen and gasped theatrically. “Oh my God, she’s opening Outlook at the table.”
“I was not!”
“You absolutely were in your spirit.”
“Give it back.”
“No.” She tucked it under her thigh. “Phone jail until dessert.”
“There is no dessert.”
“Then sunrise.”
“Hikari.”
“Eat your noodles.”
“You’re a tyrant.”
“I’m a visionary.”
You glared at her for another second before taking another bite.
“Also,” she added casually, “if you do become a big-shot solicitor one day, I expect compensation for emotional support rendered.”
“You’ve caused most of my emotional distress.”
“Exactly. Full-circle healing.”
You laughed so suddenly you nearly inhaled a chilli flake.
She grinned, pleased with herself. “There it is again. That noise. Keep making it this summer.”
Something warm settled in your chest that had nothing to do with the food.
Hikari was mid-laugh—head thrown back, chopsticks still in hand—when someone bumped into her hard enough to knock her slightly sideways.
“Hey—what the hell?” she blurted, steadying herself on the table.
You looked up instantly.
A girl had just rushed past your booth without even apologising, phone clutched tight in her hand, eyes wide with something between panic and excitement.
Then another followed. And another.
Within seconds, the calm hum of the restaurant shifted. Chairs scraped. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. People started standing.
And then—movement outside.
A sudden wave of footsteps. Fast. Coordinated. Almost like a stampede.
“What is happening?” you said slowly, putting your chopsticks down.
Hikari leaned toward the window, squinting. “Why does it look like Black Friday but emotional?”
Another group of girls rushed past the glass, pressing close to the street outside. Some were filming. Some were running. All of them were heading in the same direction.
The staff inside the restaurant started glancing toward the door too, murmuring to each other in quick Korean.
You and Hikari exchanged a look.
“…We’ve been in the country for like three hours,” you said.
“And already there’s a cult forming outside,” she replied.
“That’s not what that is.”
“It might be.”
A loud wave of screaming erupted from somewhere down the street—sharp, excited, overlapping voices that made the hairs on your arms rise slightly.
Hikari slowly set her chopsticks down.
“Okay,” she said. “That is not normal food enthusiasm.”
You shifted in your seat, craning your neck toward the window. “Is there like… a sale?”
“At 2 a.m.?”
“Midnight capitalism?”
Before Hikari could respond, another burst of screaming cut through the air—closer this time—followed by a sudden surge of movement outside the restaurant windows.
People were running past now. Not walking. Running.
Phones up. Voices high.
Your stomach dropped a little.
“…Okay,” Hikari said slowly, turning fully toward the window now. “Something is definitely happening.”
You stood up slightly, peering through the glass. “Why does it look like everyone is chasing the same person?”
“Or running from the same person,” she muttered.
A beat of silence.
Then you both looked at each other at the exact same time.
“No,” you said immediately.
Hikari pointed at the window. “Don’t say no like that didn’t cross your mind.”
“It did not cross my mind.”
“It sprinted across mine.”
You grabbed your phone off the table instinctively, then stopped yourself mid-motion.
Hikari noticed immediately. “Don’t you dare open Outlook in a crisis.”
“I wasn’t!”
“You were spiritually logging in again.”
Outside, the crowd thickened—more voices, more flashing screens, the street suddenly packed in a way that didn’t match the quiet, sleepy vibe from earlier.
A chair somewhere inside the restaurant scraped loudly as another customer stood to look.
Hikari leaned closer to the glass, narrowing her eyes.
“…Okay,” she said again, slower this time. “Either someone very important just walked past…”
She trailed off.
You leaned in beside her. “Or what?”
Hikari swallowed. “Or we’re about to find out what this city is actually like at 2 a.m.”
And for the first time since you’d arrived, neither of you had a joke ready.
The flashes hit first.
Not inside the restaurant—but outside.
Bright, rapid, almost violent bursts of white light strobed through the windows like lightning trapped in glass. Conversations inside the restaurant faltered. Someone near the counter let out a confused laugh. A chair scraped back.
Hikari squinted. “Okay… why does it look like we’re being photographed by angry lightning bugs?”
You were already standing again, instinctively edging closer to the window. “That’s not normal.”
Another wave of screams rolled down the street—closer now, louder, more concentrated. The kind of sound that didn’t belong to confusion anymore, but certainty. Like everyone out there knew exactly who they were chasing.
And then the door of the restaurant opened.
A sharp rush of cold night air swept in.
First came a man dressed completely in black—cap pulled low, face covered with a black mask, moving with the kind of controlled urgency that made the entire room shift its attention without thinking. Behind him, a blonde-haired boy followed quickly, equally guarded, glancing back toward the door like he was used to this kind of chaos. Two security guards entered after them, scanning the room instantly.
The atmosphere changed.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just… tense.
Like everyone suddenly remembered how to breathe quietly.
Hikari, however, was not part of that collective silence.
“Oh.”
You turned your head slowly. “Oh what.”
She was staring straight at the blonde boy like she’d just discovered oxygen. “Oh mama likey.”
You slapped her hand immediately. “No.”
“What?” she hissed, not looking away. “I’m appreciating art.”
“That’s a human being.”
“A very aesthetically curated human being.”
One of the security guards spoke briefly to the staff in quick Korean, and the staff immediately nodded, flustered, motioning toward a table further inside the restaurant.
The masked man didn’t sit yet. He paused near the entrance, scanning the room once—slowly, carefully.
For a second, the noise outside felt very far away.
Hikari leaned closer to you, whispering loudly, “Okay but blonde one? That’s my type.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“I know enough.”
“You know hair.”
“I know potential.”
You nudged her again as she tried to lean forward for a better look. “Stop objectifying strangers.”
“You’ve created an entire personality from three seconds of walking.”
“I’m efficient.”
The blonde boy glanced briefly in your direction while being guided to sit, then looked away again, slightly overwhelmed but polite. Hikari actually sighed.
“I’m in love,” she declared.
“You are insane.”
“Do you think they’re famous or something?” you murmured, eyes still fixed on the masked man as he finally stepped further inside.
Hikari didn’t even hesitate. “Either famous or running from a crime scene.”
“That’s not helpful.”
“It’s realistic.”
Outside, more screams erupted, louder again, like the crowd had just shifted direction. Phones pressed against the glass from the street, silhouettes clustering tightly outside the restaurant now.
One of the security guards stepped toward the door and shut it firmly, blocking the view of the chaos outside.
Inside, everything felt suddenly too quiet.
Hikari leaned back slowly. “Okay,” she said. “So we’re either in a restaurant…”
She paused.
“Or we’re in the opening scene of something very expensive.”
You swallowed slightly, still watching the masked man as he finally lowered himself into a seat deeper inside the restaurant, posture calm despite everything happening outside.
“…I don’t like this kind of quiet,” you admitted.
Hikari hummed. “Me neither.”
Then, softer—just for a second—she added, “But at least dinner got interesting.”
The two of them settled into the booth behind you almost silently—like they were trying not to disturb the air itself.
You felt it more than saw it at first. The shift. The presence.
Hikari, on the other hand, saw everything.
The second they sat down, she leaned forward slightly, eyes wide, trying to peek past your shoulder without being obvious about it—except she was absolutely failing at being subtle.
“Stop moving,” you muttered under your breath.
“I’m not moving.”
“You are vibrating.”
“I’m observing.”
“You’re staring.”
She pressed her lips together like that would somehow make her less obvious, but her attention kept flicking behind you every two seconds.
“Okay,” she whispered, voice barely contained. “The blonde one just sat down and I feel like I’ve been chosen by the universe personally.”
You tilted your head slightly, blocking her view with your shoulder on purpose. “We just got here. Please allow yourself to breathe before you start planning a wedding.”
“I’m not planning a wedding.”
“You said ‘chosen by the universe.’ That’s basically engagement.”
Hikari slapped your arm lightly. “Move. You’re tall, use it for good.”
“I am using it for good. I’m shielding the public from you.”
She tried to lean again, and you gently pushed her back into her seat.
“Behave.”
“I am behaving.”
“You are absolutely not.”
Hikari opened her mouth to argue, but then—mid-sentence—she stopped.
Completely froze.
Her expression changed so fast you almost laughed.
“…Okay,” she whispered. “Wait.”
“What?”
She didn’t answer. Just stared. Over your shoulder. Focused. Still.
You followed her gaze this time, turning slightly.
The blonde boy had stood up.
And now, without the mask, he was walking toward the counter at the front of the restaurant.
Up close, he was… unfair.
Not just attractive in a generic way—there was something almost unreal about how put together he looked even in a loose, late-night outfit. Blonde hair slightly messy, falling just enough into his eyes like it had been styled and then abandoned halfway through the night. He wore thin-framed glasses that made his features sharper somehow, more defined.
And as he turned slightly, you caught it—
A tattoo just behind his ear. Small. Clean. Intentional. Like it meant something.
He moved with quiet confidence, but not arrogance. More like someone used to being aware of every room he entered without needing to acknowledge it.
Hikari exhaled sharply.
“Oh,” she said.
You glanced at her. “Oh what.”
She didn’t look away. “Girl… I got a date with destiny.”
You blinked. “You don’t even know his name.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Yes you do.”
“No I don’t. The city already told me.”
“What city—?”
She grabbed your wrist briefly, eyes still locked forward like she was witnessing prophecy unfold. “I told you. This city loves me.”
“You’re delusional.”
“I’m intuitive.”
The blonde reached the counter, speaking quietly to the staff. Polite. Controlled. Nothing about him matched the chaos outside anymore. Like he’d stepped into a different world entirely.
Hikari leaned forward again, completely ignoring your attempts to physically contain her.
“Okay,” she whispered urgently, “if I don’t talk to him, I will regret it for the rest of my life.”
“You will regret it for five minutes and then forget.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is absolutely true.”
She finally tore her gaze away just long enough to look at you. “Do you think he likes confidence?”
“I think he likes peace.”
“Perfect. I’m peaceful.”
“You are currently plotting a romantic takeover.”
She sat back dramatically. “I’m not plotting. I’m aligning.”
You shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “We came here for food.”
“And I am getting food,” she said proudly. “And possibly destiny.”
The blonde laughed softly at something the staff said, the sound faint but noticeable even from across the room. Hikari immediately clutched your sleeve.
“Oh my God. He has a nice laugh too.”
“You’ve known him for twelve seconds.”
“And I already respect him.”
You sighed, leaning back. “Please just don’t embarrass me.”
Hikari gasped. “I would never embarrass you.”
A beat.
“…In public.”
You closed your eyes. “That is not reassuring.”
She leaned closer again, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper.
“If I go over there and come back with his number, you owe me silence for a week.”
“You will not go over there.”
“I might.”
“You will not.”
“I’m feeling brave.”
“You’re feeling hungry.”
“I’m feeling fated.”
You opened your eyes slowly. “Hikari.”
She grinned. “Relax. I’m just saying hello.”
“You never just say hello.”
Behind you, the blonde finished at the counter and turned slightly, as if preparing to return to his table.
Hikari straightened immediately, energy switching like a light bulb flicking on.
“Okay,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the table. “If I survive this, I want it noted I died doing what I loved.”
“You are not dying.”
“I might be socially.”
And before you could stop her again, she stood up.
The blonde had barely settled back into his seat when Hikari made her move.
You saw it happen in real time—no hesitation, no internal debate, just pure Hikari instinct kicking in like a switch had flipped. She wiped her hands on a napkin, straightened her posture like she was about to walk into a job interview, and stood up.
“Hikari—no,” you hissed, already halfway out of your seat. “Absolutely not.”
She didn’t even look back.
“Relax,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m just saying hi.”
“That is how horror stories start!”
But she was already walking.
At the table behind you, the blonde looked up first—mid-conversation with the man beside him—expression shifting from neutral to slightly surprised, then politely attentive. The man in black reacted instantly, body tightening, shoulders squaring as Hikari stopped directly in front of them like she belonged there.
“Hi,” she said brightly, clasping her hands together. “I’m Hikari.”
There was a beat of silence.
The man in black didn’t move for a second. Then slowly, he lifted his cap just enough to see better, and tugged his mask down so his voice came through clearer.
His eyes were sharp. Focused. The kind of look that didn’t miss details—it analysed them.
“If you’re a sasaeng,” he said flatly in Korean, “you need to stop following people like this. It’s an invasion of privacy.”
The temperature at the table dropped instantly.
Hikari blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“…I’m sorry?” she said, still polite, but now visibly confused.
The blonde immediately reacted—reaching out and lightly smacking the man’s arm.
“Bro,” he said, switching effortlessly into English, tone more amused than hostile. “That’s not nice.”
Then he looked at Hikari and softened immediately, offering a quick, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about him. Be nice to the pretty lady. She’s clearly not from here.”
That did it.
Hikari visibly short-circuited for half a second at “pretty lady,” like her brain had paused buffering.
Then she recovered instantly, posture resetting.
The blonde tilted his head slightly, still smiling. “Hi, I’m Park Jimin.”
Before Hikari could even react properly, the man in black let out a quiet scoff and turned sharply toward him.
“Are you serious?” he said, switching into English now, voice lower but edged with irritation.
Jimin blinked. “What?”
“You know damn well there are foreign sasaengs too,” the man in black continued, tone controlled but sharp. “They act clueless like they don’t know us, and next thing you know they’re trying to break into your house, telling security they’re your friends.”
Hikari went completely still.
You could see it—she didn’t understand every word, but she understood enough. The tone. The accusation. The assumption sitting under it like a weight.
Her expression shifted immediately from excitement to offence.
And something in your chest snapped into focus.
You were already standing.
“Hikari,” you said quickly under your breath, but she didn’t hear you.
Or didn’t register it.
So you walked.
Not rushed. Not aggressive. Just firm—cutting cleanly through the space between tables until you were directly in front of her.
You positioned yourself without thinking, shoulder slightly angled to shield her.
Then you looked at the man in black.
Up close, the intensity was worse. Not threatening—but guarded. Like someone who had learned to assume danger first and apologise later. Cap low, dark clothing, jaw set in a way that suggested he was already regretting having to deal with this situation.
You spoke in Korean, calm but firm.
“My friend is not a stalker,” you said clearly. “And she would never break into anyone’s house. We don’t even know who you are. So maybe don’t assume the worst of people and—” your eyes narrowed slightly “—pipe down on the ego a bit.”
Silence.
The blonde—Jimin—snorted softly under his breath, leaning back in his chair like he’d just witnessed something mildly entertaining.
“Okay,” he muttered, half-laughing. “She got you there.”
The man in black blinked once, caught slightly off guard—not by the words, but by how directly they landed. His gaze flicked briefly between you and Hikari like he was recalculating the entire situation.
Jimin tilted his head, still amused. “You really needed that.”
Hikari, still behind you, whispered urgently, “Wait—am I in trouble or did I just get defended?”
“Both,” you muttered without looking back.
The air at the table shifted. Less sharp now. Less hostile. More… uncertain.
Not resolved. Just recalibrated.
You exhaled slowly through your nose, then reached back and grabbed Hikari’s wrist.
“Come on,” you said firmly. “We’re done. Sit down. Finish eating. We’re leaving.”
“I didn’t even get to introduce my personality properly,” she protested as you tugged her back.
“You introduced enough.”
She stumbled slightly as you guided her back into the booth, still twisting her head over her shoulder like she was trying to process the entire encounter in real time.
“Okay,” she said slowly once seated. “That was… not on my bingo card.”
“Yes,” you replied flatly.
She picked up her chopsticks again like nothing had happened. “But also… I think I just got called pretty by Park Jimin.”
“You got accused of breaking into someone’s house.”
“Details.”
You stared at her. “That’s not details. That’s the main issue.”
Hikari leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice like this was suddenly a private conversation again.
“I don’t think he meant it,” she said gently. “He was just… defensive.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“I know.” She reached across the table and covered your hand with hers, grounding. “But I’m fine.”
You frowned slightly. “I don’t like people speaking to you like that.”
Hikari squeezed your hand once. “I know.”
A pause.
The noise of the restaurant slowly filled the space again—the clatter of plates, low conversation, the faint hiss from the kitchen. The world moving on like nothing had just shifted.
Then Hikari nudged your foot under the table.
“Also,” she said lightly, “you fully just told off a man in Korean like it was a court cross-examination. That was kind of terrifying in a hot way.”
You let out a short, reluctant laugh despite yourself. “Don’t start.”
“Oh I’m starting a campaign,” she said immediately. “Future solicitor energy. Ten out of ten intimidation factor.”
“I want to leave the country.”
“After dessert.”
You were still staring at the table when Hikari nudged your foot again, gently this time.
“Okay,” she said, voice lighter, deliberately pulling the air back up. “We are not spiralling. We are resetting.”
“I’m not spiralling.”
“You’re doing the silent angry chewing thing. That’s spiralling.”
You paused. Slowly swallowed. “It’s just… unbelievable.”
“I know,” she said immediately, softer. “But it’s done. Gone. Out of our timeline.”
“That’s not how time works.”
“It is in my system.”
You let out a breath through your nose, finally picking up your chopsticks again. The food was still warm, untouched chaos on the table between you.
Hikari leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So. Internship.”
You looked at her. “What about it.”
“This is me redirecting your brain before it turns into legal rage soup.”
“I don’t have legal rage soup.”
“You absolutely do. It’s simmering.”
You huffed a laugh despite yourself. “I’m in comparative constitutional law for six weeks. It’s going to be reading, note-taking, and pretending I understand twenty-page judgments in one sitting.”
“That sounds sexy,” she said instantly.
“It sounds like suffering.”
“It sounds like future lawyer main character arc.”
You shook your head, finally relaxing back into the booth. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m supportive.”
“You’re delusional.”
“I’m optimistic.”
There was a pause, then Hikari tilted her head. “Okay but imagine. You walk into the firm, everyone’s stressed, everything’s formal, and then you walk in like—” she straightened her posture dramatically, voice dropping “—‘Good morning, I understand constitutional frameworks and I will ruin your ego in litigation.’”
You snorted. “That is not what I sound like.”
“It is in my dreams.”
“That’s terrifying.”
She grinned. “You’re going to be fine, though. You always are.”
You picked at your noodles. “I hope so.”
“You will be.” She said it more firmly this time. “You’re not the type to not figure things out.”
You glanced up at her. “That’s a lot of faith in someone who almost died emotionally over no internship replies.”
“I said almost.”
You rolled your eyes, but your shoulders had loosened now. “What about you, then? What’s your plan for this trip? Besides traumatising strangers in restaurants.”
“I don’t traumatise—”
“You absolutely do.”
“Fine,” she conceded. “Besides enriching the local economy and being culturally immersive.”
“You mean flirting.”
“I mean networking.”
“Same thing in your vocabulary.”
Hikari smiled, unbothered. “I’m going to find you a nice Korean man.”
You froze mid-bite. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Did you miss the entire last ten minutes of my life?”
“That man was one experience,” she said, waving a hand. “We don’t judge an entire population on one emotionally constipated individual.”
“I am judging him specifically.”
“Fair. He was rude.”
“He called you a stalker.”
“He assumed incorrectly,” she corrected. “But still. We move.”
You stared at her. “We are not ‘moving’ into me finding a man.”
“Why are you so against it?”
“Because I didn’t come to Seoul for romance. I came for law. And peace. And maybe slightly less academic burnout.”
Hikari leaned in again, smiling mischievously. “And yet somehow you still got emotionally adopted by chaos in under three hours.”
“That was not adoption.”
“That was destiny.”
You pointed at her with your chopsticks. “Do not start that again.”
She raised both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. No destiny. Just vibes.”
“Better.”
“But I am serious about one thing,” she added, softer now. “You need to stop letting one rude guy in a restaurant ruin your whole night.”
You exhaled. “He didn’t ruin my night.”
“You were two seconds away from prosecuting him in public.”
“He deserved it.”
“He might have been stressed too.”
“That’s not my problem.”
Hikari smiled gently. “Exactly. It’s not your problem.”
You looked at her properly then, tension slowly fading again. “You’re trying to distract me.”
“Yes.”
“It’s working a little.”
“I know.” She tapped her glass lightly against yours. “Now eat your food before I decide your next emotional crisis is dessert-based.”
You laughed under your breath. “That’s not a thing.”
“It can be.”
“You’re exhausting.”
“And yet,” she said proudly, “you love me.”
You shook your head, finally picking up another dumpling. “Unfortunately.”
“Good,” she said brightly. “Because tomorrow, we’re exploring properly. No phones, no LinkedIn spirals, no existential dread.”
“I don’t spiral.”
“You spiralled in the airport.”
“That was research.”
“That was despair.”
You were still halfway turned toward Hikari when you muttered, “I’m going to go pay before you decide dessert is a personality trait.”
Hikari didn’t even look up, just casually twirled her chopsticks like she had all the time in the world. “Too late. It already is.”
You shot her a look. “You’re actually impossible.”
“And yet,” she said, finally glancing up at you with a completely unbothered smile, “you’re still sitting here.”
“That’s not a choice. That’s survival.”
She laughed under her breath and waved you off. “Go. Before I order something dramatic.”
“You already did.”
“I can always escalate.”
You shook your head and walked to the counter.
The front of the restaurant was quieter—warmer somehow, like the noise from your table hadn’t fully reached here. The staff were moving slowly, cleaning up between orders. The woman at the register looked up with a polite, practiced smile.
You spoke in Korean, softer but clear. “Hi, can I get the bill for table—”
She glanced at the screen, then back at you.
“It has already been paid for,” she said gently.
For a second, you just stood there, trying to make that sentence fit into any version of reality that made sense.
“…That’s not possible,” you said slowly. “We literally just finished eating.”
“Excuse me.”
The voice came from just behind you.
Not loud. Not aggressive.
Just close enough that it cut cleanly through your thoughts.
You turned your head first—then fully turned.
And there he was.
The black-haired man from earlier.
But now, without the mask, without the cap, without the barrier of distance or chaos, he looked different in a way your brain didn’t appreciate.
Up close, his features were sharper—defined jaw, straight nose, lips that had a silver ring through the lower one that caught the restaurant lighting every time he moved. A small eyebrow piercing sat above one eye, subtle but impossible to ignore now that you’d seen it. His hair was dark, slightly messy, falling forward in a way that looked unintentional but somehow suited him too well.
His jacket was off, hanging loosely from one hand, revealing more of his frame and the full sleeve of tattoos running down his arm—intricate patterns layered like they meant something personal rather than decorative.
And his eyes—calmer now. Less defensive than earlier, but still alert, like he didn’t fully trust how this conversation was about to go.
He cleared his throat once, a small, controlled sound that made the space feel like it had shifted slightly toward him.
“I paid,” he said, voice steady but a little careful, like he was choosing every word. “For your table.”
You blinked once.
Then slowly turned your head toward the counter again like there was a second explanation hiding somewhere behind the register.
“…You paid…” you repeated flatly.
“Yes.”
You blinked.
Then immediately scoffed. “Why?”
His brows lifted slightly. “Because I wanted to apologise.”
You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “No. That’s not an apology. That’s you trying to outsource accountability with noodles and guilt money.”
Behind him, the blonde at the table leaned back like he was watching the best free entertainment of the night.
The black-haired man exhaled through his nose. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“It’s exactly what it looks like,” you shot back. “You don’t get to call my friend a stalker, embarrass her in public, and then think you can just… pay your way out of it.”
“I didn’t say I was buying forgiveness,” he replied, sharper now.
“You didn’t have to,” you snapped. “You did it anyway.”
A beat.
Then he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “You always like this? I’m starting to think you fight people for a living. You secretly in the special services or what?”
Then you stepped forward slightly, expression completely flat.
“Even worse,” you said.
He blinked.
You held his gaze dead steady.
“Law student.”
Silence.
Even the blonde stopped laughing for a second.
The black-haired man stared at you like he was recalibrating everything he thought he knew about the last five minutes.
“You’re a law student,” he repeated slowly.
“Yes,” you said. “So when I tell you you can’t just assume things about people and fix it with money, I’m not being difficult. I’m explaining reality to you.”
A faint exhale left him—half laugh, half disbelief.
“Oh,” he said. “That explains the attitude.”
Your eyes narrowed immediately. “Attitude?”
“Yeah,” he said, a small smirk forming now despite himself. “The whole ‘I will cross-examine you in public over noodles’ energy.”
“I’m holding you accountable,” you corrected.
“Same thing.”
“It is not the same thing.”
“It feels like the same thing.”
You stepped closer. “It feels like that because you’re wrong.”
He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly. “You’re actually unbelievable.”
“And you’re actually insufferable,” you shot back.
Behind him, the blonde leaned forward again, clearly enjoying how quickly this had escalated again.
The black-haired man didn’t look back this time. His focus stayed on you.
“You really think you can just lecture strangers like that?” he asked.
“I think I can correct disrespect when I see it,” you said immediately.
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It’s called having standards.”
“It’s called entitlement.”
That landed sharper.
You pointed at him. “Entitlement? From you? You accused my friend of something serious, and then tried to erase it with a restaurant bill.”
“I already told you that wasn’t the point.”
“It doesn’t matter what your point was,” you snapped. “It’s still wrong.”
A pause.
He nodded slowly. “You’d be terrifying in court.”
“I know,” you said immediately.
That actually made him pause.
Then, almost like he was testing you now, he added, “You plus that ugly wig would honestly be lethal.”
Your expression went very still.
“Oh my God,” you said slowly. “First of all, those wigs are for barristers, not solicitors.”
He smirked, clearly amused that he’d touched a nerve.
You pointed at him. “Don’t get smug.”
“You were loud.”
“I was accurate.”
“You were rude.”
“I was cautious.”
“You were wrong.”
“I apologised.”
“That’s not enough.”
“What do you want then?” he asked, voice edging a little sharper again. “A formal apology? A written statement? A whole courtroom drama?”
You leaned in slightly. “Don’t tempt me.”
That made him pause.
Then he let out a short laugh. “You actually would enjoy that.”
“I would enjoy you understanding consequences.”
He looked at you for a second longer, then exhaled slowly like he’d decided this conversation was never going to end peacefully.
“You’re very intense,” he said, not as an insult this time, more like an observation he couldn’t ignore.
You scoffed immediately. “And you’re very comfortable insulting strangers you don’t know.”
“I didn’t insult—”
“You did,” you cut in. “You assumed intent without knowing anything about the situation.”
His lips pressed together briefly, then he nodded once. “Yeah. I did.”
That answer threw you off for half a second.
Not the denial you expected.
But you didn’t soften.
“Right,” you said instead. “So we agree on that part.”
A pause hung between you.
Then he spoke again, slightly lighter but still careful. “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”
He said it like it mattered.
Like it was supposed to land in a certain way.
You looked at him for a second, expression unchanged.
“Okay,” you said simply.
That clearly wasn’t the reaction he expected.
His brow lifted slightly. “That’s it?”
You shrugged faintly. “Should there be more?”
“I told you my name.”
“And I didn’t ask for it,” you replied evenly.
That made something in his expression twitch—half disbelief, half amusement trying to surface.
He leaned slightly on his heel, eyes still on you. “So you’re just not going to tell me yours?”
You tilted your head. “Why would I?”
A faint smirk appeared on his face now, like he was starting to enjoy this despite himself.
“Seems fair,” he said, voice a little lighter. “But still.”
You crossed your arms. “Still what?”
“You’re just going to leave me with nothing?”
You gave him a look. “You’re a stranger I argued with for ten minutes. I think you’ll recover.”
That made him actually huff a quiet laugh.
From behind him, the blonde leaned back further in his chair, clearly entertained now.
Jungkook glanced over briefly, then back at you, the smirk still there but softer at the edges.
“You don’t usually introduce yourself?” he asked.
“Not when I’ve just been accused of being in a hostage situation at dinner, no.”
His expression flickered—like he was reminded of earlier.
“…That wasn’t what I meant,” he said.
“It’s what you said,” you replied instantly.
Another pause.
Then he exhaled slowly. “You really don’t let things go, do you?”
You stepped slightly closer to the counter, grabbing your bag from where it rested. “I don’t let disrespect slide, no.”
He watched you for a second, then tilted his head slightly again.
“So what, I’m just supposed to accept being wrong and move on?”
“Yes,” you said simply.
“I apologised.”
“That was avoidance.”
He stepped slightly closer now, not aggressively, just enough that the conversation tightened again.
“You’re loud,” he said again, like he was revisiting the earlier conclusion.
“I’m clear,” you corrected immediately.
“That’s just loud with structure.”
“I’m going to ignore that sentence.”
“You can’t just ignore it.”
“I just did.”
He smiled slightly wider now. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re still standing here arguing with me,” you shot back.
Then he said, quieter but amused, “So are you.”
That landed in a different way.
You stared at him for a second longer, then shifted your bag onto your shoulder.
Hikari had already gotten up behind you, hovering like she had no idea whether to be impressed or terrified.
You grabbed her wrist without looking away from him.
“Come on,” you said flatly.
“Wait—my food—” she started.
“You’ll survive.”
“I was in the middle of—”
“I don’t care.”
You finally looked away from him, just slightly, as you started walking.
No goodbye.
No closure.
Just the sound of your steps and Hikari stumbling slightly behind you.
Behind you, you could hear him still.
Not following.
Just watching.
And, just before the door, his voice cut through once more—lighter now, almost amused.
“You still didn’t tell me your name.”
You didn’t turn around.
“Pity.” you said instead before smashing the door closed behind you.
→ summary: stuck sharing a motel room with him, you finally give into your craving for thee park jimin
→ pairing: bts!jimin x femsub!reader
→ tags: park jimin x reader, jimin x you, bts x reader, friends to lovers, slow burn, motel, one bed trope, forced proximity, rainy night, road trip, spring getaway, friends vacation, smut, fluff, angst (light), romance, cozy, intimate, first time, pining, mutual pining, soft jimin, confident jimin, explicit sexual content, oral sex, praise kink, multiple orgasms, aftercare, fanfiction, bts fanfiction, oneshot, bts au, body worship, kissing, creampie
→ word count: 2.8k
→ a/n: I enjoyed this ALOT. it's very cozy and sweet. I love body worshippppp...and yes I made namjoon drive now that he's got his license LMAO sue me
masterlist
-
the rain hammered against the windows of the van, a steady beat that matched the thrum of excitement in your chest. you were sandwiched between jimin and taehyung, the latter already dozing with his mouth slightly agape, his head lolling against his girlfriend's shoulder.
jimin, however, was wide awake. his knee kept bumping yours, a small, rhythmic touch that sent little jolts of electricity through you each time. he'd catch your eye in the dim glow of the dashboard lights and offer a small, secretive smile, one that was just for you.
"almost there," namjoon called from the driver's seat, his deep voice a comforting rumble. "the 'pines motel'. sounds… rustic."
jungkook snorted from the back. "as long as it's dry and has beds, i don't care if it's rustic."
you did care. you cared a lot. because this trip, this spontaneous getaway to see the spring grass and blooming flowers, was the first time you and jimin would be properly sharing a space. you weren't officially anything, not yet. you were a mixture of stolen glances, lingering touches, and conversations that stretched late into the night when everyone else had gone to bed. the unspoken thing between you was growing too big to contain, and this weekend felt like the tipping point.
the van pulled into a gravel lot, the headlights cutting through the pouring rain to illuminate a small, rectangle shaped building with a neon sign that flickered ever so slightly. it was exactly as advertised: cozy. a little dated, maybe, with its faded green carpet and wood-paneled walls, but charming in a retro way. hoseok, ever the planner, had booked three rooms. you watched with a sinking heart as he began doling out keys.
"okay, so me and namjoon, jin and his girlfriend, and…" hoseok paused, looking at the last key, then at you, jimin, and the remaining couples. "hmm. i think i messed up the booking. i only got three rooms, but there are… more of us."
a moment of chaotic silence descended. jungkook and his girlfriend were already looking at each other with a 'we can share' expression, as were taehyung and his partner. that left you and jimin. and one double bed.
"it's fine," jimin said, his voice disarmingly calm as he took the key from hoseok's hand. "we can share. right?" he turned to you, his eyes soft, questioning. there was no trace of awkwardness on his face, only a quiet confidence that made your stomach flip.
"right," you managed, your voice a little thin.
the room was small, dominated by a queen bed covered in a kitschy floral bedspread. the air smelled faintly of pine cleaner and something else, something clean and warm. jimin dropped your single bag and his own by the door and turned the lock with a soft click. the sound seemed to echo in the sudden quiet, sealing you in together.
"well," he said, a small laugh escaping him as he gestured to the bed. "cozy."
you couldn't help but laugh with him, the tension breaking. "rustic, too."
you both stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. the rain outside had softened to a gentle patter, creating a cocoon of intimacy around the small room. jimin took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours. he reached out, his fingers gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. his touch was feather light, but it burned a trail down your neck.
"you know," he began, his voice dropping to that low, honeyed tone he used when he was being sincere, "i've been wanting to get you alone all night."
your breath hitched. "jimin…"
the tension in the room shifted, and you tilted your head towards him.
"is this okay?" he asked, his thumb stroking your cheek. he was always so careful, so considerate, even when his eyes were dark with a hunger that mirrored your own.
you answered by closing the small distance between you and pressing your lips to his. it wasn't a frantic kiss, but a deep, searching one. his lips were soft, tasting faintly of the strawberry gum he'd been chewing earlier. he sighed into your mouth, his hands coming up to frame your face, holding you gently but firmly, like he was afraid you might disappear.
the kiss deepened, slow and tender. his tongue traced the seam of your lips, and you opened for him willingly. the kiss became wetter, more urgent, a silent conversation of months of pent up desire. one of his hands slid from your face down the curve of your neck, his fingers tracing your collarbone before coming to rest on your hip, pulling you against him. you could feel the hard line of his arousal through his jeans, and a fresh wave of heat pooled inside of you.
he broke the kiss, both of you were breathing heavily. "i've wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice raspy. "just you, like this."
"me too," you whispered, your hands fisting in the soft material of his sweater.
he smiled, a genuine, breathtaking smile that reached his eyes. "good." he leaned in for another kiss, this one shorter, sweeter, before taking your hand. "come on. let's get more comfortable."
he led you to the bed, sitting down on the edge and pulling you to stand between his knees. he looked up at you, his expression a mixture of adoration and raw desire. his hands roamed up your sides, from your hips to your waist, his thumbs stroking the soft fabric of your shirt.
"you're so beautiful," he murmured, his gaze roaming over your face, your body. he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your stomach, right through your shirt. the gesture was so tender it made your heart ache. he continued his exploration, his lips tracing a path up your body as his hands slowly, torturously, inched your shirt upward. he kissed your ribs, the valley between your breasts, the hollow of your throat. each touch was deliberate and intentional.
you raised your arms, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head. he tossed it aside, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you in your simple lace bra. he didn't say anything, just watched for a moment, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. then he reached around, his fingers fumbling slightly with the clasp before it sprang free. he slid the straps from your shoulders, his gaze never leaving your skin as the bra fell away.
he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the swell of one breast, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. he took his time, worshiping every inch of you with his mouth and hands. he palmed the weight of your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples.
"jimin, please," you breathed, the need building to an almost unbearable pitch.
he looked up at you, a wicked glint in his eyes. "please what, baby?"
"touch me," you begged. "everywhere."
he chuckled, a low, husky sound. "that's the plan." he stood up, quickly shedding his own sweater and t-shirt, revealing the smooth, toned expanse of his chest and stomach. your eyes traced the lines of his muscles and the line art of his nevermind tattoo, and you reached out, wanting to feel him under your palms. he caught your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles before guiding them to his chest. your fingers splayed across his warm skin, feeling the steady beat of his heart.
he kissed you again, hard and deep, as he walked you backward until your legs hit the bed. you fell back onto the floral comforter, and he followed, covering your body with his. the weight of him felt perfect, grounding. he kissed you until you were dizzy, his hips pressing into yours in a slow, teasing rhythm that drove you wild.
his hands deftly unbuttoned your jeans, and he lifted his hips just enough to slide them down your legs, taking your panties with them. he paused, kneeling between your thighs, just looking at you, laid bare for him. the vulnerability should have been scary, but the look in his eyes; a pure desire made you feel powerful.
"you're perfect," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
he lowered his head, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him but not quite there. he repeated the action on the other side, his stubble scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin. you were squirming, whimpering, by the time he finally parted your folds with his thumbs and gave you what you were craving.
the first swipe of his tongue was pure bliss. he was skilled, knowing exactly how to tease and torment, building the pressure slowly. he circled your clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue before sucking it gently into his mouth. your fingers tightened in his hair, holding him to you as waves of pleasure washed over you. he slid one finger inside you, then another, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you stare up at the ceiling.
"jimin," you gasped, your back arching off the bed. "don't stop."
jimin didn't stop immediately, but slowed his movements, his tongue and fingers gentling you through the waves of your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were a helpless, panting mess beneath him.
he kissed his way back up your body, his lips soft and worshipful against your still flushed skin. when he reached your mouth, you could taste yourself on him, a heady, intimate flavor that made a fresh surge of arousal course through you. you kissed him deeply, pouring all the gratitude and desire you felt into it.
"you're incredible," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with awe.
"you are," you countered, your hands roaming over the smooth, warm skin of his back. you could feel the tension coiled in his muscles, the evidence of his own desire pressing insistently against your thigh. you wanted, needed, to give him the same release he had just given you.
you pushed gently at his shoulder, rolling him over so you were straddling his hips. the look of surprise on his face quickly melted into one of dark appreciation as you leaned down, your hair cascading around both of your faces, and kissed him. you took your time, exploring his chest with your hands and mouth, tracing the defined lines of his abs with your tongue, feeling the way his muscles quivered in response. you loved having this power over him, the ability to make him gasp and shiver with just a simple touch.
you worked your way down, your eyes never leaving his. you could see the desperate need building in his gaze, the way his jaw was clenched with restraint. you reached the waistband of his jeans, your fingers making quick work of the button and zipper. he lifted his hips, allowing you to slide both his jeans and his boxers down his legs. his cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip already glistening with precum.
you'd imagined this, fantasized about it, but the reality of him was so much more intense. you wrapped your hand around his length, feeling the velvety skin over the steel-hard shaft. he let out a choked moan, his head falling back against the pillows. you stroked him slowly, watching his face as you did, learning what he liked.
"baby," he breathed, his voice strained. "please."
you leaned down and took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him deeper. the taste of him was sweet and uniquely jimin. he groaned, one of his hands coming to rest gently on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as you set a rhythm, bobbing your head, taking him as deep as you could. you used your hand to stroke what you couldn't fit into your mouth, your movements sure and confident.
you could feel him getting closer, his hips beginning to thrust up to meet your mouth, his breathing becoming ragged. but just as you felt him start to tense, he gently tugged on your hair.
"stop," he gasped. "come here. i want to be inside you when i cum."
you released him with a final, lingering lick and crawled back up his body. he captured your lips in a searing kiss, rolling you over once more so he was on top. he settled between your thighs, his propped on his elbows as he looked down at you. the rain had slowed to a misty drizzle, and the only light in the room was the soft, golden glow from the bedside lamp. it cast his features in a warm, gentle light, making his eyes shine.
"are you sure?" he asked, his voice serious, even as his body trembled with need.
you reached up, cupping his face in your hands. "i've never been more sure of anything."
he smiled, that beautiful, genuine smile that you loved so much. and then he was pushing into you, slow and steady. the stretch was exquisite, a slight burn that quickly melted into a deep, full pleasure. he filled you completely, and for a moment, you both just lay there, savoring the feeling of finally being connected, skin to skin, heart to heart.
he began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deep rhythm that was both tender and possessive. each thrust was deliberate, stoking the fire that was already smoldering in your belly. this wasn't frantic or desperate; it was a deep, soulful connection. he looked into your eyes the entire time, his gaze so intense it felt like he was seeing straight into your soul.
"you feel so good," he panted, his forehead dropping to yours. "so perfect and made for me."
the words sent a thrill through you. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting him thrust for thrust. the room was filled with the sounds of your soft moans, the slick sound of your bodies joining, and the gentle patter of rain against the window. it was the most intimate music you had ever heard.
he shifted his angle slightly, and suddenly he was hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. a sharp cry escaped your lips, and you felt him smile against your skin.
"hold it," he murmured, his voice smug. he began to aim for that spot with each thrust, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your entire body. the pressure began to build again, higher and higher than before, a tight coil of tension in your core.
"jimin," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "i'm… i'm close."
"let go then, baby," he urged, his own rhythm becoming more erratic. "cum with me. let me feel you."
his words were your downfall. with a few more perfectly aimed thrusts, the coil inside you snapped, and you were flying. your orgasm crashed over you, more intense than the first, your body arching off the bed as a silent scream tore from your throat. your inner walls clenched around him, and with a guttural groan, he followed you over the edge. you felt him pulse inside you as he found his release, his body shuddering with the force of it, a gush of warm liquid filling you up.
he collapsed on top of you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. the weight of him was comforting, and you ran your hands up and down his back, feeling his heart hammering against your chest.
after a few moments, he rolled off of you before grabbing some tissues off of the rusty motel desk and cleaning you up as best as he could. he tossed the tissue and plopped down onto the bed, pulling you into his arms. he tucked you against his side, your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat a steady, soothing rhythm in your ear. he pulled the floral comforter over both of you, creating a warm, contented nest.
neither of you spoke for a long time, just lay there in the quiet, listening to the rain and the sound of each other's breathing. it was comfortable, peaceful. the unspoken thing was no longer hanging between you; it had been acknowledged, explored, and sealed in the most intimate way possible.
finally, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "so," he said, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "does this mean i get to call you my girlfriend?"
you tilted your head up to look at him, a wide smile spreading across your face. "i think that's probably a good idea jimin."
he beamed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "good." he tightened his arms around you. "because i'm not letting you go now, never."
you snuggled closer, pressing a kiss to his chest. as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the rain finally stopping outside, you knew this cozy, rainy night at a rundown motel was just the beginning of something magical.
-
taglist: @mikrokookiex
lmk if u wanna be added <3 haven't done a TL in a long timeeee
synopsis: while bts is on tour in your city, you’re lucky enough to run into jungkook and jimin at the restaurant you worked at. as the eager and sweet fan you were, you kindly asked for an autograph and enthused them about attending their concert later that week. after giving you their autograph, a note and phone number is left for you to call.
wc: 10.4k
warnings: strictly 18+. threesome. dub con. oral sex, vaginal sex, light anal play, signing an nda, extremely filthy dirty talk, hard dom jimin, soft dom jungkook, subspace, submissive reader, teasing, dumbification, sex tapes, sadist behaviors, masochist behaviors, slapping, choking, alcohol influence, etc.
The dining room was close to empty. Outside of the kitchen staff and the two other waiters, you were the only person here. Leaning against a table, you had just finished cleaning. Only 2 booths were filled. Lunch time was roughly over as it was approaching 1pm. The bell to your restaurant rang and two masked men walked inside. Black masks and dark caps, with hoodies and black sweats adorning the two figures.
Your coworker, Sarah approached the men with an awkward smile. “Welcome in, table for 2?” she questioned as she pulled out two menus from the hostess stand. The men nodded their heads and followed her to their table calmly.
“All yours,” she whispered to you as she passed by, tapping your shoulder quickly. Your head jolted and faced the table in the corner by the window. You eyed the men eerily, trying to make out some type of image of what they may look like. You approached the table with a smile, pulling out your notepad and pen. “Hey guys, welcome in. I’m y/n, I'm gonna be serving you today,” you beamed with your best customer service voice.
The man to the right, with big doe eyes locked onto your figure. Sizing you up and down slowly, before tapping the table and whispering in Korean to get the attention of the other man. Blonde peeking through his cap, his eyes making their way to yours meeting your sweet gaze. Then, realization hit you. That was Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook of BTS. The group you’ve been stanning for years. The group you’ve been pulling overtime shifts at this dead restaurant to afford tickets to their concert this weekend. The group with only the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life, and 2 of them were right in front of your face.
You smiled. Hard. Your face grew hot, and there was a lump in your throat. You attempted to keep cool. They were here to eat, probably just landed from their flight. Only 3 days until their concert and today must’ve been their only day off before preparation.
“Ahem, we’re going to have two waters and two beers,” Jungkook spoke, his deep voice hitting your ears like a soft melodic tune. His voice was deeper than you thought. Once it registered that he was speaking to you, you quickly jotted down the request.
“T-two beers, and water, uhm okay,” you stammered. Nice way to keep your cool. Right...
A chuckle erupts from Jimin. Another quit statement in Korean is exchanged between the two men. “She must be army,” he mentions to Jungkook, receiving a quick nod in agreement. You didn’t know what they said. Not that it was your business, but it did make you nervous. You nodded your head before turning your heel and walking to the kitchen.
Your mind was racing and your heart was beating out of its chest. Jungkook and Jimin were in your city. In your restaurant. And you were their waitress. Literally, what did you do to deserve this luck? You knew you wanted to make an impression. A subtle one. Just making sure they had a nice warm meal, received amazing service, and of course asking for a quick autograph.
You walked back to their table with a tray filled with their beverages, setting them down with a kind smile. “Here are your beverages, are we looking to get any appetizers today? Nachos, mozzarella sticks, wings?”
The men removed their masks once the drinks hit the table. You almost gasped at the sight. It was really them. Truly them. God, they were beautiful. Their faces bare, lips plump, and eyes so enticing. Jimin smiled at you, thanking you for the beverages. Jungkook nodded his head, immediately taking a swig of his beer.
“The BBQ wings seem good. We’ll take that for our appetizers please,” Jimin asked. His eyes are focusing on yours. His dark orbs meet with your enamored ones. You stared for almost a second too long. “Wings, got it. Are you guys ready to order any entrees?” You questioned, scanning along the menu with them.
“Ah, the bacon burger, how do you like it?” Jungkook questioned his finger trailing along the menu. You cleared your throat quietly before thinking about it. “It’s really popular, and I order it sometimes on break if I’m really hungry, it’s kind of a lot,” you responded honestly. Your voice coming out meeker than you intended, but at least you didn’t stutter this time.
“Hyung, I'm gonna get that,” Jungkook mentioned to Jimin before closing his menu and handing it to you. You accepted the booklet with both hands and a smile. “Bacon burger meal, and for you Jimin?” You asked before dramatically covering your mouth.
His ears piqued at the calling of his name. A sly grin is given as he looks up to your embarrassed expression. “Told you, I knew she was army,” Jimin poked at Jungkook. Another cheeky grin reciprocated from him as well.
You were a bit flustered now. How could you have been dumb enough to say his name aloud? Fuck your life.
“I’m so so, so sorry, I didn’t want to bother you guys, I know how hard it is on tour, and I just wanted to give you guys good service- “you rambled profusely before hearing some shushing noise.
“It’s okay, you’ve been very respectful and kind since we’ve been here. No worries,” Jungkook assured, hushing you from your obviously frazzled self. “We love seeing army always, and we’re glad you’re the one serving us today,”
You sighed in relief. Your hand over your chest as if you were about to have a panic attack.
Jimin chuckled as he closed his menu and handed it to you. “I’ll take the steak sandwich and fries please. Thank you so much,” he placed his hand over his chest and bowed to you as you accepted the menu, bowing back. “I’ll make sure your orders are out as quick and fresh as possible,” you assured before turning away and speed walking to the kitchen, almost tripping on the way in.
After pacing around the back of the kitchen and waiting impatiently for the food, the dishes were finally ready. As you headed back to the table, the men were in deep conversation in their native tongue over their empty glasses of beer.
“BBQ wings, Bacon burger… and the steak sandwich with fries,” you announced, placing the dishes amongst the tables for the men to enjoy.
The kind men bowed their heads before you, taking in the meals. “I’ll be back later with your bill. Enjoy your meal,” you bid. The men gave you a small nod and smile while they began to dig into their food. On your way to the register, your manager came to you whilst you rang up their meals.
“You seem to be in a good mood,” he noted. “Do all our customers have to be cute to receive good service from you?” He sarcastically remarked, earning a scorning expression from you.
“They were kind, so I was kind back,” you blankly responded as you printed the receipt and took the pen from the counter.
“You know, if you kept this behavior up more with our clientele, I would be more willing to give you more shifts,” his rude remark pierced your ears. You hated Mr. Paul. He was stuck up, rude, and passive-aggressive always. You weren’t always the nicest waiter, but it was always because he annoyed you during your shifts.
Your plan was that after making the money back from the concert, you would quit and find a new job.
But life unfortunately isn’t always going according to plan, sometimes you had to sacrifice your sanity for an extra buck.
You walked back over to the table with the receipt and pen in hand, and the warmest smile you could conjure. To your surprise, the plates were almost completely empty. God, they must’ve been starved from that plane ride.
“Hi guys, no rush. Here’s your bill and a pen whenever you’re ready,” you sat the booklet down on the edge of the wooden top and began to compile the empty plates and glasses.
“Thank you for the amazing service,” Jimin remarked as he wiped his fingers clean from the sauce of the wings.
You nodded your head; arms filled with the dishes. “Of course, I’ll be back to have you guys out on your way”.
You walked back swiftly to the kitchen almost launching the ceramics into the sink, heading straight for your purse in the back where the employee lockers were. Rummaging to find anything, anything for them to sign. Not that you were owed an autograph, but God didn’t you want to try to get one.
Oddly enough, you found an OT7 photocard you’ve kept in your wallet for the past few years. It was a little rough around the edges, but it would work.
Heading back to their table, you picked up the checkbook and found a whopping amount of cash inside. Double the total that was owed.
“Oh- I think you guys read this wrong; this is too much-”
“It's all for you. Your tip,” Jungkook answered quickly, his boba eyes creasing with an assuring look of gratitude. “Please accept it. You’ve been so amazing,”
You wanted to collapse. This could easily be merch money, grocery money, enough to get you by for a few weeks. You bowed kindly, uttering jumbles of “thank you’s” for their kindness.
“I uhm, I know you guys have to go, but is it okay if you sign this for me?” you awkwardly asked as you pulled out your photocard, handing it to Jimin who sweetly took the image from you.
“Of course, are you coming out to the concert this weekend?” He asked as he picked up the pen that was still on the table, writing out his initials before handing it to Jungkook who did the same.
“Y-yes, both days. I worked so much overtime to try and get enough to go, and I just am so incredibly grateful to have the opportunity to see you guys. It was such an honor to serve you guys, I'm so happy you liked the food”
As you rambled, you failed to recognize that Jungkook was taking a significantly longer time to write his signature. A quick smirk was exchanged between the two men before Jungkook’s tatted hand handed you the photocard back.
“We can’t wait to see you then. We hope you enjoy the show,” he bid as they both rose from their seats and waved, heading towards the door. “Take care, thanks again y/n” Jimin wished, the pair exiting the restaurant as you waved timidly.
Your shoulders are relaxed, and a deep breath is released. They were gone, and immediately your heart fell. You couldn’t cry; that would be foolish. But you certainly weren’t happy about it.
You looked down at the photocard, eyes cascading over the printed words. Jimin and Jungkook's signature on your card. They knew your name. Fuck, they knew your name. They tipped you well. They thanked you for serving them. You should be ecstatic.
You flipped over the photocard, and your eyes widened like a deer in headlights, your knees shaking at what you seen. A phone number. A FUCKING phone number. “Text me” and a smiley face were written on the back.
You wanted to throw up, explode, die, and cry all at the same time. Jungkook had given you, his phone number.
Shit, what were you expected to do?
—
You were now lying in your bed, contemplating whether to hit the send button. You’d gotten off work 3 hours ago. Showered, ate, and cried. You were extremely overwhelmed. You met Jimin and Jungkook. They’d given you money. You spoke to them. And now possibly, was about to text Jungkook’s phone.
“Hi! I'm y/n from the restaurant today,”
Simple. Cute. To the point.
One question sat in your mind. Why did they give you their number? Sure, you were sweet but that wasn’t ground enough... you were just working. Not even at a small talk level of conversation.
You guess you were going to find out soon enough. Your thumb reluctantly hits the “send” option. You almost threw it. You were a nervous wreck as you waited for the response.
A ding hit.
You check the notification just to realize it's your friends, Alexis and Sam, asking about the concert arrangements for the 100th time. Meeting up, tickets, after party plans, the usual.
You scoffed at the disappointment. Of course, Jungkook wasn’t going to respond in 5 minutes; he was probably busy rehearsing or catching up on some well needed rest.
Before you could even respond to the mess of messages from your group chat, the unsaved number responded back.
“Hey! Hru? Before we continue, I need you to sign this file and send it back to me <3”
A link to a file was sent immediately after. You clicked the PDF and your eyes blankly stared at the document. A non-disclosure agreement PDF from Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin was lit up amongst your screens.
The agreement reads to never discuss the conversations or interactions that would take place from here on out with the artists. Not verbally. Not through social media. Not to anyone. Ever. It was a seal of privacy between the three of you.
“This isn’t real life,” you told yourself. No babes, it was real. You pinched yourself twice just to make sure. Your mind raced at the possibilities in store. You had a fucking NDA with Jeon Jungkook and Park Jimin. If it was just casual conversation, why would they be suggesting you to sign one?
But you weren’t dumb. You knew exactly why. They wanted you the same way you wanted them.
Without another thought, you opened the file properly and placed your digital signature on the document before texting it back to him.
After a few moments, the speech bubbles graced your screen again.
“Perfect! So glad you signed baby,”
A flutter rang through your heart at the pet name. You were beginning to melt away at just the slightest sign of flirting. With the NDA being set in place, it was evident what they wanted. Clear as day.
But that didn’t mean you didn’t want to hear it from them.
“I’m your baby now, huh?”
You don’t know where this bold and cheeky side came from. However, you could only hope that it would entice them.
“Ofc darling. Now we can actually safely talk”.
“We can? Bout’ what?”
“When we came in today, me and Jimin thought u were so pretty. We thought about it while we ate, and we wanted to invite you to our hotel this weekend,”
Jaw agape, you couldn’t properly process the information you were being told. Two of the most handsome men alive thought that you were pretty. Fuck that. Not only were you pretty, but they wanted you. Shit, how could you even sit and process this alone?
“Oh, thanks so much <3 I obviously think you guys look great too, lol”
“Lol. Thanks sweetheart. We're gonna send you the info about the place soon. See u after the concert, okay?”
Okay? Like, this was set in stone? You were about to see BTS in concert, and then immediately after, link up with 2 of the members. And the fact was, you only had two full days to process this, as well as the fact that you weren’t allowed to speak about it.
“Sounds like a plan, see u there <3”
Jungkook responded with a heart, and that was it for the night.
Another ding came through your phone, opening it to see it was a message from Sam.
“Omg, are you ready to see Jimin??? His long hair, fuck I need him so baddd,”
You giggled before typing back your response.
“Lmfao yeah, def”
Shutting your phone off for the night, your heartbeat finally steadied for the first time all day. Allowing yourself to bask in your luck.
You silently prayed that everything would work out in your favor.
—
“Y/n fuck, its starting!” Alexis screamed as she pointed to the red hazy lights hitting the stage in front of you.
Your trio managed to bag some pretty decent seats for night 1 of your stop of the BTS tour. You could see the screen, and the floor seats clearly. As well as make out the little bodies of each member ahead of you.
Cheers and screams erupted in the stadium; you and Sam were waving your army bongs to the beat of Hooligan while Alexis recorded.
Each member was walking to the stage now, and you could clearly make out each one. V leads the line, then Suga, RM, Jin, J-hope. Finally, you seen the two men who you were looking forward to the most, Jimin and Jungkook. They fell in a position instantly. They looked unbothered, serious stone faced as if this were just another day to them.
For you, it was the complete opposite. You knew you were supposed to be ecstatic, but the impending feeling of being nervous infiltrated your system.
You couldn’t stay still; you couldn’t look at them for too long. Your heart was thumping, as if your chest was about to rupture. The loud screams of the stadium couldn’t even fog your thoughts.
Sam was screaming, holding your hand as she jumped up and down repeatedly.
Alexis couldn’t stabilize her hand enough to record a steady video.
You felt out of place, disoriented.
The beat finally dropped and the stadium erupted. You attempted to sing along and follow in suit with everyone else.
Your eyes lit up as Jungkook graced the screen, singing his iconic line to the song.
You were finally brought back down to Earth. This was real.
Shortly after, Jimin’s figure lit up on the screen as well. His hair flowing beautifully in the wind, his voice booming through the mic.
The fact that you’d been in contact with them over the past 48 hours still didn’t register to you. You still haven’t come up with a plan on how to ditch your friend's post-concert either. All you’d been worried about was your appearance tonight, making sure to shave and exfoliate everywhere, and pack your purse to the brim before leaving your house today. Your hair is perfectly styled, and your outfit is appropriate for whatever was to come afterwards. A short black mini dress. Sleeveless, adorned with red lace tights and black kitten heels.
You looked the part. On theme enough to look like you were simply ready to just enjoy a concert tonight. But sexy enough to show that other plans indeed followed afterwards.
The sets keep rolling through the night. Fake Love, Animals, Idol, all your favorites being played.
Now, it was time for the surprise songs of the night.
Sam was begging for Pied Piper, while Alexis begged for Wings. You would settle for anything. You loved the entire discography wholeheartedly and didn’t expect any disappointment. You looked up to the screen to see Jimin smirking at the crowd. “This song next, is dedicated to our beautiful army. You’re special, and this one here for is for you,”
Cheers sparked through the stadium as the first few notes for “House of Cards” began to play.
It was almost ironic. The sensuality building in a matter of moments as Jungkook began to sing the intro. Arguably one of the most sexually enticing songs in their discography being played live. Almost as if it were just for you.
Your friends were in shock at the choice, but not as much as you. That familiar feeling in your body ached again.
You noticed Jimin and Jungkook exchanging sly smirks amongst another on stage. They were cheeky. Most fans wouldn’t expect a thing, but you knew everything already. You couldn't help but think that they were referring to you.
No, you knew they were referring to you.
—
“And when Yoongi’s verse in Aliens came on, oh my god I almost dropped to my knees!” Sam yapped as you three exited the stadium back to the parking lot.
The concert is over and boy, did you have a ball? After your mini-panic attacks, of course.
“Did you see how Namjoon looked at the crowd though? I know this afterparty finna be turnt,” Alexis chimed in as she made her way to her car who was parked next to yours.
You opened the door and feigned a sullen look. “My feet are really killing me in these heels; I don’t think Imma make it tonight” you fake winced as you opened the door. The girls looked at you with furrowed brows of confusion.
“The fuck, you didn’t say anything about your feet hurting before?” Alexis pointed out as she stared at your feet. “Who wears heels to a BTS concert anyways?” Sam inquired.
You shrugged and sat in your vehicle, not allowing anymore room for questions. “I’m sorry, I'll know for tomorrow night’s show I just can’t today,” you pouted as you closed the door and turned on the ignition.
You rolled down your window and waved to your friends. “I have to try to beat traffic and go home asap before my feet actually fucking fall off, I'll catch you tomorrow”
Alexis dropped the situation, waving off to you as she entered her driver's seat.
Sam still wasn’t buying the act, but she didn’t argue. Maybe you did have something better to do than go clubbing with your friends. She didn’t bother intruding.
Once you settled in your car, a string of dings reached your line.
Not texts, a call.
You rolled up your window immediately and picked it up with a sweet tone.
“Hello?”
“Hey baby,”
The voice of honey graced your ears. It was Jimin. He sounded slightly out of breath, completely expected since he was just dancing his heart out for the past 3 hours.
“Hi! Jimin, oh my god it’s good to hear your voice. The concert was so amazing,” you perked, beginning to back out of the parking lot as you put the phone on the speaker.
He chuckled softly on the line. “Glad you enjoyed it. Did you like the surprise song?”
Your heart almost skipped a beat as you bit your lip, thinking about how enticing it was hearing House of Cards, let alone knowing the fact that it was for you to be confirmed now.
“Loved it, think it really sets the tone for tonight,” you assured, your voice going almost quiet.
“Definitely, are you on the way to the hotel? Me and Jungkook can’t wait to see you baby,”
His voice was almost a low growl; you could tell something was working him up. You prayed it was just the thought of you.
“Yes, traffic is gonna be hell, but it’ll be worth it to see you,”
Jimin released a low sigh into the mic. Your thighs clenched at the hushed noise as you drove off into the bustling street.
“Get here soon babe, don’t know how long we can hold off before seeing you,”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, see you” you bid.
“See you soon love,”
The line cuts.
—
You don’t usually drive like a barbarian but tonight was an exception. As safely, but as swiftly as you could, you swerved through traffic with vigor.
The hotel was about 50 minutes out, and you somehow managed to make it there in 30 minutes.
You parked near the exit of the hotel between some trees and a dim light. You sat in your car for an additional 10 minutes, freshening up with some wipes, lotion, deodorant, and sealing the deal with a sweet perfume and your favorite lip gloss.
Just from the outside alone, you could see that this hotel was at the next level. Outside was beautiful. Fountains, valet parking, flowers with names you couldn’t pronounce cascading in the bushes. Beautiful, paved-parking lot and a cobblestone pathway surrounding the building.
Jungkook sent you a text a few moments ago with instructions. “Enter through the back door, one of our security guards will let you in and bring you to our floor.” Simple.
After taking a few deep breaths and turning off your phone's location, you stepped out your vehicle with your purse. Locking the car door and swiftly walking to the back entrance like instructed.
You walked towards the glass door, just to be met with a buff man dressed in all black with a walkie talkie. He eyed you up and down momentarily. “Name?” His gruff voice erupted.
You stammered. “Y-y/n”. As if you were unsure about your own name.
He said something into the walkie-talkie. Of course, in Korean. Momentarily, a deep voice huffed through the speaker of the walkie-talkie. You made it out to be Jungkook’s.
The man signaled his fingers, instructing you to follow him. You did. Swiftly getting into the elevator as he pressed the button for the top floor.
The ride was quiet and almost eerie. He didn’t speak to you, ask about your night, nothing. Just faced forward until the elevator came to a halt, the doors opening to an empty hall cascaded with warm lights and ceramic décor. The wallpaper was old-timey, laced with gold eccentric designs on a cream canvas.
“Room 610, to the right,” the man alerted before closing the elevator door, right as you were about to thank him. They should do better with the security they hire in your humblest opinion.
You furrowed your brows as you timidly searched for the room number. Your fingers made way to your phone, reading the instructions they gave you once more as you reached your destination. They said to knock twice once you arrived.
The door was plain, didn’t stick out compared to any of the other doors in the hall. The only difference was that the suite was tucked away in the furthest corner of the building, as expected. You brought your fist upslowly, knocking shyly twice. Just like they had asked. You nervously gripped your purse, eyes scanning your surroundings. It wasn’t the smartest idea to head to a hotel completely alone on the opposite side of town at midnight. But hey, for BTS you were willing to do arguably worse.
To your surprise, the door opened quickly. Extremely quickly actually, Jungkook stood behind the threshold, hair damp with grey sweats and a white tank. Freshly showered with an excited grin on his face. “Y/n! You’refinally here!” He cheered sweetly, stepping aside to signal you in.
Surprisingly, your nerves were calm for the first time that night. His tone was welcoming and warm. You were grounded in reality; it felt, just by his shockingly comforting presence. You returned the smile and stepped inside, removing your heels at the entrance.
“Hi! Yeah, I made sure to get here as soon as I could, I didn’t want to keep you guys waiting. Knowing you’re busy and all,”
“You’re too sweet love,” Jungkook said as he closed the door behind you. His body followed yours naturally, taking your hand and leading you to the living space of the room. The suite was huge, and much more luxurious than you could fathom.
Looked more like a full-fledged luxury apartment than a hotel. When did hotels come with full functioning kitchens, living rooms, laundry rooms, balconies, and chandeliers?
Your eyes scanned the space as he led you to the white velvety sofa, sitting down on the empty cushion, patiently waiting for you to take your seat.
“Jimin is in the shower still. You know the pretty boy needs to take a minimum of an hour to just get ready for bed,” he chuckled as his hands aimed at the coffee table in front of you. It was scattered with bottles of dark whiskey and shot glasses. Seeming like the bottle had already been dug into.
“Shot?” Jungkook asked as he lifted an empty glass to you. You meekly nodded, accepting the offer as your eyes finally latched back to his figure. He was buff. Of course you knew that. But in reality, his muscles looked like they were hand drawn and sculpted. They looked firm. God did you wanna touch them.
Jungkook handed you the glass filled with dark liquid and toasted it to you. “Cheers!” He smirked. “Cheers!” you repeated, cocking your head back and downing the alcohol as smoothly as your throat allowed.
You scorned at the burning taste, only to receive a small chuckle from the man next to you. “Too strong?” He asked, already knowing the answer to his question. “Just not so much used to whiskey,” you assured setting the glass down. “Ah, more of a mixed drinks kind of girl?” He questioned, his hand leaving the glass and now comfortably resting on your clothed thigh. Your breath hitched for a moment at the sudden touch. “Y-yeah, I like margaritas, and such,” you timidly responded; trying your best to keep your eyes focused on him.
“Ah. Pretty drinks for a pretty girl, I guess,” he mused. A small nervous chuckle erupted from you. His compliments were pure, a little corny, but it affected you the same. After a few moments of small talk, a hardly clothed Jimin came from what you assumed to be the door to his room. Topless, his tattoos were completely on display as black gym shorts hung lowly around his waist. Tom Ford boxers to compliment.
His cheery expression shined as he noticed you were finally here. “Our guest is finally here, how are you darling?” He questioned his body sitting next to yours on the sofa as he came to wrap his arms around your smaller frame. The embrace warm and tight, his head falling into the crook of your neck as you returned the hug. “You smell nice too princess,”
“Thank you Jimin, i’m wonderful how’re you?” You responded, pulling back for a moment to comfortably look at him as you engaged in the conversation.
“I’m great now that you’re here sweetheart. Jungkook didn’t try to get you too drunk before I came did he?” He joked, his index finger and thumb latching under your chin comfortably, aiming your face to look directly into his.
Your cheeks warmed at the touch and your eyes averted down to your hands. A slow shake of the head followed with a gentle grin. “N-no, just only had one shot. Was waiting for you,”
Jimin kept his sly grin and eyes focused on your timid expression. Your shyness was adorable to him. Seeing how easily he could make you weak was one of the primary reasons he chose to stay in contact with you. He adored your desperation to remain humble and respectful to him and Jungkook. You weren’t like other army. Not to them. They valued your true will to engage with them kindly and respect the ground that they walked on.
And for that, you deserved the reward they had in store for you.
Jungkook shifted behind you, sitting closer to your body almost skin to skin on the couch. He handed the bottle of whiskey to Jimin and placed his hand on the swell of your hips. Head placed over your shoulder, leaning into you.
“She doesn’t like whiskey Jiminnie, said it’s too strong,” Jungkook told the elder man, his eyes staring down at your thighs flushed against your lace tights.
“Aww, that’s no fun. I wanted you to celebrate tonight with us properly,” Jimin feigned a pout. His lips connect to the bottle, taking a harsh swig of the liquid.
Heat erupted in your face, guilt filling your chest as you heard what you thought was disappointment in his tone. “No, we can celebrate! I just have to get used to it. But I like strong drinks, I like what you give me,” you flustered out your explanation as believable as you could. You didn’t mind drinking, especially with them. You trusted them. Even if it meant drinking something you weren’t a fan of, they hosted this for you. They wanted to share it with you. And you felt you were in no place to deny anything they wanted to give you.
Exactly what Jimin and Jungkook expected of you.
Jimin’s smile returned as he took the bottle from his lips, swallowing the drink. “That’s a good girl, so kind and willing,” his thumb stroked your bottom lip. “Open up princess,” he instructed.
You did. The moment you did, you cocked your head back, allowing Jimin to pour the harsh liquid down your throat. Your face scrunched up at the taste but inevitably you swallowed all of it. It was definitely more than just a shot he poured, but you let it slide. It was a celebration tonight. A celebration that you hope eventually led you into getting fucked that night. And honestly, who wasn’t down for a little bit of drunk sex?
“Good girl sweetheart,” Jungkook cooed behind your ear, his hand grazing up down and your thighs and hips, toying with your tights. “Wore this for us tonight? Or was this your concert outfit?” He inquired curiously. Your breath was a bit unsteady from the mix of alcohol and the sudden touches. “B-both,” you answered.
Jimin sucked in a breath as his own hand began running down your tights. His eyes stare at the top of your dress, resting at your collarbones. “Ah, that’s not fair. Everyone seen you in this outfit then, it’s not just for us then, is it?” Jimin asked rhetorically. His hands tugging rougher at the material of your tights, ripping at them harshly exposing your skin.
You whimpered at the sudden sound, looking down at your now ruined cloth. “Don’t pout baby, it’s just not fair is it. That we were the last ones to see you in your pretty outfit? How about you let us see what’s underneath it, hm?” Jungkook suggested, his hand now cupping your chin to make your eyes face him. Distracting you as Jimin tore into your apparel.
“You read what the paper said right love?” Jungkook asked, thumb stroking your cheek softly. You nodded. You did know what the NDA said. You don’t know exactly which part he was referring to, but you hoped he would answer that for you.
“Good girl. You’re ours tonight, right? And you’re gonna be good and keep what happens between us?” He whispered, pulling your lips closer to him as he spoke. “Yes Jungkook,” you responded breathlessly. He smirked, sealing your deal with a quick, messy kiss. You melted into it. His hand snaked around you, gripping your throat tightly as he held you in it.
Jimin finally had your tights torn off. Your body con dress hem was now in his grasp, roughly tugging it down and allowing it to pool at your feet. You were now exposed in just your black lingerie set. Black panties and strapless black bra, lace and bows adorning the material. Jimin bit his lip as he looked down at you, eyes sizing every inch of your body before his.
Jungkook pulled away from the kiss and had a glance for himself. His eyes were hazy and low, staring at each and every curve on you. His hands trailed your waist, while Jimin’s were flush against your thighs. “At least we can only see this part of you, right baby?” Jimin questioned.
You nodded, biting your lips. Even though you expected to end up naked at some point tonight, you didn’t imagine it like this. It was vulgar. Jimin’s gaze darkened suddenly. “Hey. When we ask you a question, you use your words and speak. Understand?”
Where did that come from? You’ve never imagined Jimin to use such a tone with you. It wasn’t rude, but it was stern like a lecture. You gulped, eyes meeting him. “Yes sir, I apologize,”
“Aw Jimin, don’t scare her too much. She probably didn’t expect this from us,” Jungkook cooed, his lips meeting the shell of your ear, placing a tender kiss beneath it.
Jimin wasn’t having it. “She expected something. Coming to our place dressed the way she is, like we were bound to fuck her. Doing everything, we say, such an easy slut, aren’t you?” Jimin growled, leaning against you, lips achingly close to yours.
Your vision was blurry. The alcohol setting in finally making you more sensitive than usual. The flurry of embarrassment, guilt, drunkenness, and horniness was striking you like a drum. The feeling of their hands encapsulating your body added to the stir of emotions. Jungkook was right; you didn’t expect all of this. But you certainly didn’t want to push it away. You craved them, and you would do anything to have them. You needed to make them proud.
A slap hits your bare thigh causing you to wince. “Didn’t I just say that you answer us when we ask you a question?” Jimin repeated; his brows furrowed and jaw tightening. “i’m sorry, I am. I am a slut for you, I'll do anything you say,” you whimpered out, a tear brimming at your eye.
Jimin then rubbed the area he’d slapped, shushing your winces. “That wasn’t hard now was it baby?” He asked, placing a soft kiss against the red flesh.
You knew better than to not answer now. “It wasn’t hard, i’m sorry. I was stupid for not answering,” you responded, head drooping as you watched him pepper kisses against you. Jungkook pecked your cheeks a few times. “You’re not stupid baby. Just need some training, right? Never be trained before hm?”
No, you hadn’t. Of course you had a little rough sex before, but never spanking. Never having to respond to questions. Never two men at once. Nothing of this caliber. “No sir,” you answered, earning a small hum of approval from him.
“Good girl, already using manners and we didn’t have to tell you too. Such a sweet baby,” Jungkook praised, his hands reaching towards your tits, squeezing at the buds beneath your bra. You bit back a moan, humming slightly at the feeling. His large tight grip was enough to cause your mind to calm and zone out from your worries.
Jimin came up from kissing your thigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey once more and taking another harsh sip, except this time he didn’t swallow. He grabbed your chin, pulling your face close to him and shoving your mouth open with his thumb. He came close, spilling the liquid into your mouth. Thankfully, you were coherent enough to drink it and not choke from the sudden action. This time round, the whiskey wasn’t as harsh and scorching. You smoothly took it down in one gulp.
“Good girl,” Jimin praised, watching you intently. His eyes softened at your behavior, kissing your lips once you finished. “Good girls take whatever their daddies give them, right baby?” He whispered against your glistening lips, barely giving you enough space to respond.
“Yes sir, take whatever daddy gives,” you slurred. God you were already in deep, between the drunkenness and their established dominance, you were slipping into a deep space of no return. Going completely under their control just like they wanted. “Take whatever he gives baby? Think you can take this dick? It’s what you wanted all along hm?” Jimin asked, his hand gripping the growing bulge beneath his shorts. It was huge. Your eyes lazily looked down to watch him palm himself, shooting open like a deer in headlights.
“I’m not sure,” you answered too honestly. It was intimidating. You didn’t know exactly how big Jimin was yet, but it was shocking from what you’ve seen already. All he could do was laugh. Not a cute reassuring laugh. A laugh indicating insult towards you.
“Oh, come on, I'm supposed to believe that a slut like you can’t take dick properly?”
The words should sting. They should be offensive. But oddly all the words did was send a gushing sensation between your legs. You were embarrassingly wet at the encounter. His words were filthy and derogatory, but you were too blinded by sexual tension to acknowledge it.
Jimin mutters something to Jungkook in their native tongue, and briefly afterwards, Jungkook lifts up from the couch, his hands moving away from your body. He stood up, walking towards the bedroom with an excited grin.
You pouted at the loss of comfort from him, honestly a bit nervous about being left alone with Jimin. “Don’t worry angel, he’ll be right back,” he softened, eyeing your sullen expression. He leaned his head against the arm of the sofa and laid his back against the cushion, patting his leg signaling you to ease closer.
You did. You sat on your knees between his legs on the sofa, looking down at the bulge, peaking from his shorts. “You’re gonna suck me, right? Make me feel good princess?” He asked, a lingering gaze stuck on you.
As you opened your mouth to answer, Jungkook came back with what appeared to be a camcorder. Your mouth gaped, eyes darting between the men and the camera nervously.
“Don’t worry baby, it’s for our eyes only. Nobody gets to this but us remember?” Jungkook assured as he pressed his eye to the screen, a red light appearing near the lenses to showcase that the camcorder was indeed recording. “You know Jimin doesn’t like being patient love. Give him what he wants now,”
You nodded. Leaning your head down, lips grazing against the soft material of his shorts. You were still a bit dizzy. Light from the alcohol. But, still grounded. Enough at least. Your mind grew fuzzier as you slipped the waistband of his shorts off along with his boxers. A red-hot tip peeking out, his member springing out against your lips. A long drag of moans escaped Jimin’s lips as he eyed you, waiting for you to take him all in.
Your hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock and slipped it into your throat slowly. You fisted whatever you couldn’t fit and bobbed your head up and down. The noises were lewd and wet, filling the room. Jungkook hissed behind the camera, making sure to record every moment of this. Zooming in on your lips covered in spit. Jimin’s hand snaked around the back of your throat, holding you close to his shaft barely giving you space to breathe.
“Baby,” Jimin sighed, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Can’t you take more than that? Don’t use your hands, just use your mouth,” he grunted, waiting for you to obey.
Your brows furrowed, barely comprehending exactly what he wanted. You moved your hands and allowed them to rest on his thighs but slowly took in more of his length. The rhythm was slow and aching, driving him up a wall.
Jungkook shakily held the camera as he began to palm himself at the sight, taking low grunts as he stroked his cock to the pace of the head you were giving.
Jimin couldn’t take it. It was too slow and safe for his liking, and you were just barely fitting half of his cock.
“Why don’t you fucking listen?” he growled, pushing your head fully down, causing you to gag harshly on his cock. His hips rutted vigorously into the back of your throat. Tears blurred your vision and rough pants escaped your mouth. “Thought you were a good slut? What’re you good for if you can’t take dick huh? Can’t please us properly? Fuck- you’re so warm,” he cursed, head thrown back in bliss at your struggle.
Jungkook fisted himself faster, watching your tears run freely as choking noises graced the air. His own release nearing. “Pretty girl you’re almost there, make him cum so we can reward you honey,” Jungkook encouraged, setting the camera on the table. Propping it up so it could get a proper angle of all 3 of you perfectly.
Your mouth was so full. Your cheeks red hot. All you could do was hum and try your best to breathe properly whilst pleasing Jimin. Your tongue swiped around the shaft as you inched further down the length, his cock completely covered by you as he neared release.
“Ah- good girl. Gonna cum for you, all in your pretty mouth. Shit-“Jimin warned, pulling you off his cock swiftly, you coughed at the release attempting to catch your breath. “Stick your tongue out,” he instructed as his fist met his cock profusely stroking it as hard as he could.
You stuck your tongue out, eyes locking in on him as you waited for the inevitable. Hot sticky spurts of cum splattered on your pink tongue, dripping down your lips and chin as he messily released.
“Don’t spit it out, swallow all of it. Show the camera,” he sternly instructed. His eyes burning a hole in your face as he watched you do so. You swallowed the salty liquid and opened your mouth to show the camera once you finished doing so.
Jimin smirked to himself, cupping your face softly. “You did so well baby, you’re gonna help Jungkook feel good now, aren’t you?”
You nodded eagerly, excited to please Jungkook as well. You enjoyed your moment with Jimin, but you’ve hardly had a proper moment with Jungkook yet. You knew he’d deserve to feel as good as you both did.
Jungkook slipped his sweats and Calvin's off before sitting on the opposite edge of the couch, head against the arm rest pumping his shaft. “Don’t go too fast baby, i’m already so sensitive just by watching you,”
You smirked at the confession. He was already close from watching you. It filled your ego, but you didn’t want it to go to your head. Especially knowing that at any moment, they could bring it down once again.
You faced opposite now, on your knees, back arched as you leaned down to replace Jungkooks hand and stroke his cock for him. A low groan leaves his mouth as he watches, not rushing for a single moment.
Your ass is now poked up towards Jimin, who takes the opportunity for himself to pull your drenched panties off your waist and to the floor, amongst your dress and torn tights. He hummed at the sight of your glistening pussy before him, his finger sliding into the warm pink hole. You moaned softly at the feeling, trying your best to focus on what was ahead of you. Pleasing Jungkook.
Jungkooks eyes were locked onto your pretty face, while Jimin’s finger slipped deep into your core. “Don’t get distracted now darling. Suck Jungkook off like he wants,” Jimin instructs, laying a harsh smack against your soft ass.
“Mmph!” You shrieked. You bit back your curses and leaned down against Jungkooks cock, finally taking it all in your mouth. No hands. Just like Jimin had instructed you to do to him. Jungkooks hips slowly rose as his groans became louder and louder. His hand tangled in the strands of your hair. Gently. Holding you down as he rutted into your sore throat.
“Shit!” He cursed as his speed picked up. He didn’t want to be rough with you. Not right now. Not after Jimin brutally fucked your throat, but you made it hard for him. Your obedience. Your sweetness. It was all perfect grounds for him to want to ruin you. “So good to us aren’t you princess? Huh? You’re so good for daddy? Gonna take this dick just like he asked?” Jungkook's profuse use of dirty talk was enough to get you off, let alone mixed in the combo of Jimin’s fingers fucking into you, you were in heaven.
You hummed ‘mhm’ around Jungkooks cock, doing your best to keep a steady flow as you continued sucking him away.
Jimin then slid in another finger into your cunt. Watching as slick coated his fingers as you took them in with each pump. His eyes lingered at your taut asshole. He smirked at himself before deciding to lick it. His lips smacked against the pretty hole, tongue rubbing deep around the rim as he sucked the tight skin.
Loud, pornographic moans escaped your mouth, vibrating against Jungkooks sensitive cock. His eyes squeezing tight at the pleasure he felt a tight clench in his lower abdomen. The feeling of your ass being sucked was indescribable. Jimin’s pouty lips and skilled tongue against such a sensitive spot was hitting you in the right places. It slowed down your pace with Jungkook, but you couldn’t help it. The feeling is overwhelming.
“Cumming, take it. Fuck take it all- take my cum baby,” Jungkook moaned loudly, pushing your head flush against his bare cock as spurts of his climax trickled down your throat.
Moans of relief filled the air from you and Jungkook, his eyes trailing to the camera with a smirk as you slipped away from his length. Loud breathy moans flowed from you as Jimin kept at it, two fingers ramming into your cunt while his tongue devoured your asshole.
Jungkook watched hazily at the sight, seeing you fall apart in his lap. Your head still dangerous close to his semi-hard cock, watching you slip into the blissful state. “Look at you sweet girl, can’t even talk it feels so good?” Jungkook questioned as he strummed your flushed cheek. You nodded, your eyes tight and lip caught between your teeth as you hold back your screams.
Jimin’s pace rapidly increased. His mouth making out with your hole as your cunt clenched around his fingers, chasing your high.
“You should ask Jimin if you can cum darling, i’m sure he wouldn’t want you cumming without permission,” Jungkook suggested. His eyes glued to your fucked out face. He was enamored with your expression. The sounds you were making before them were music. An enticing melody that they wanted to replay over and over again.
“Please, may I cum please!” you plead to the man behind you, loud whimpers following. “Please Jimin, need you,”
Jimin smirked against your skin, gripping your ass as steadied your shaking body. “You may, sweet girl,” he allowed tongue diving back to its rightful spot.
You shrieked as your high came, a loud moan and curse came about as your thighs shakes for the men. Jungkook watched you come undone with loving eyes, his smile never fading as you shook uncontrollably from the pleasure. They watched as your heat dripped with release, Jimin scooping up your cum and toying with it.
He brought his fingers to his mouth, slurping away at your secretion, humming at the taste. “So sweet, just like we expected,” he smirked, pulling away from you, allowing you to collapse against Jungkooks bare body.
He caught you, pulling you flush against his skin, taking you in a warm embrace. “How’re you feeling honey?” Jungkook asked softly, strumming the pieces of hair on your face.
“Fine,” you breathed. You panted softly against his broad chest. Your eyes drawn to the camera on the table, still recording.
“Oh baby, you’re not giving up so soon, are you?” Jimin pouted, coming to the side of the couch standing in front of you and Jungkook. “We still have to fuck you baby, remember what we said right?”
You remembered. Memory crystal. “I-I take whatever daddy gives me…” you responded softly, earning a hum of approval from Jimin. “See. I knew you could be smart,” he teased, his hand ruffling your hair.
He sat on the edge of the couch once again. Legs spread as he stroked his rising cock. His eyes hazily gazing at the sight of you and Jungkook. “Fuck her from her behind. Need to see that pretty fucked-out face of hers,” Jimin instructed to the younger male, his opposite hand reaching for the bottle of whiskey once more. Taking a swig before his show began.
Jungkook chuckled, tapping your ass softly. “All fours baby, you’re gonna be good, right? Take it like we said?” He asked as he began to sit up himself. “Don’t wanna disappoint us now. Not when you’ve been so good honey,”
Be a good girl. That’s all you wanted to do. Please them. Listen to them. Make them proud.
You nodded and turned around, facing Jimin and placing your weak body on all fours. You shyly met his gaze, your eyes darting between his face, the ground, and his dick.
“Eyes up here slut. Need you to watch me jerk off to you. You know you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Wanna see how much you turn daddy on?” he said as his grip tightening hard on his shaft.
“Yes, need to see,” you barely made out before you felt Jungkook slowly insert himself deep. Very deep. His whole length inside of you in one swift motion. You both moaned in unison at the stretch. “Fuck, you fit like a glove. Like you’re made for this dick sweetheart,” he cursed, throwing his head back before he started his hasty sharp thrusts.
You clenched at the sensation, mind completely taken over with the pleasure immersing through you. Your jaw slacked, uncontrollably moaning from the feeling. He was hitting you just the right spot. Deep, and rough. His hands clasped on your hips, his hips moved in a beautiful rhythm against your ass. His eyes never leave the sight in front of him.
Jimin bit his lip grunting at the squeeze he had on his shaft. Watching you fall apart for Jungkook stirred something in him. You were hot, undeniably. He loved to see you fall apart and submit to his orders, even if it was embarrassing for you, you didn’t argue. He adored it. You would go out of your way to submit to him.
Jungkook was in heaven. From the moment he’d seen you in the restaurant, he desired you. Your angelic behavior towards them alongside your respectful demeanor turned him on more than any model, porn star, or anyone else could. Your natural genuine desire for them was admirable. You deserved tonight. They deserved to ruin you. In a way, he was proud to be the one to do so.
Jimin’s gaze never faltered on you. Your eyes were glued to one another, as if you were afraid to break contact. You moaned both of the men’s names constantly. Jungkook’s thrusts didn’t slow down; his grip didn’t soften. He kept your body flush against his as his rock-hard cock drilled your puffy hole. “Feel so good, so glad you’re fucking me daddy,” you confessed with a cry.
Jungkooks deep chuckle could be heard. He leaned against your back, gripping your neck from behind and forcing you against his body. His thrusts deepen at the new angle as you attempted to keep contact with Jimin. “Yeah, so glad i’m in control? This is what you always wanted, huh? Your biases to fuck you like you belong to them?” He whispered against the shell of your ear. His thrusts are still deep but losing the steady pace. Deep and messy, his release neared.
Jimin moaned at the sight. The beautiful, yet filthy sight. You were a mess. Sweat dripping, eyes hazy, drool pooling at your mouth. He knew the only thing on your mind was them. Being used by them. Fuck, did it turn him on.
“Yes please, I wanna cum now please. I love this, love you inside of me. I love you both, please,” you profusely begged like a baby. Your mind blanks as the words fell out without a second thought. Jimin nodded his head to Jungkook, allowing for you the release you craved.
Jungkook kissed your ear, the smacking noise and wet tongue setting you over the edge as your climax shocked through your body. “We love you too sweet girl, go ahead and cum for us,” Jungkook encouraged, watching you convulse against him, holding your waist with his tatted arm. You screamed. Your second release of the night gushing out.
Jungkooks grunts were gruff and hoarse as his climax reached as well, his thrust faltering as he stayed inside you, cumming hard into your poor cunt. Curses rang in the air between both of you, before Jimin catches your limp body as you collapsed against him.
Jungkook pulled out slowly, watching both of your secretions pool between your thighs. He sat down against the arm rest, chest panting and cheeks red as a tomato.
Jimin held you close, shushing you as small sniffles erupted from you.
The sex was good. Too good. Your tears were joyous and they knew that, but it didn’t stop them from comforting you afterwards and asking if you were okay, which you assured them you were.
After your tears silenced, Jimin pecked your forehead and strummed your back. His cock still rock solid beneath you. “Do you think you can go one more round for me love?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with hope awaiting your answer.
You smiled genuinely at the request. “Of course,” you assured, receiving one more kiss from him. Jungkook was calm from his high. His eyes watched as you two maneuvered along the couch. You lying on your back as Jimin prepared to fuck you missionary.
Jungkook stood up, grabbing his camcorder and aiming at the perfect angle where it captured your body beneath Jimin’s. Legs open as one of his arms held your hips while the other clutched your wrists above your head.
Jimin inserted himself into you. Slowly. Moaning as he slid inch by inch into your soft walls. You whimpered as you were still completely soaked and sensitive from the orgasms from earlier in the night. It felt like your pussy had a heartbeat of its own, throbbing consistently throughout the night.
Once Jimin bottomed out, his thrusts were shallow and slow, he wanted to take his time fucking you and you could tell. Jungkook blushed behind the camera. A flustered horny mess as he watched his best friend fuck you sensually. “Hyung, you can give her more than that. She can take it,” he whined selfishly, wanting more for his own pleasure.
Jimin smirked, looking down at your disheveled face. “Is that right sweetheart? You want more? Not enough for you?” He repeated, waiting for your answer before he decided for you.
You processed what Jungkook was saying. And to be honest, he wasn’t wrong. You could take more; you’d take anything they wanted you to. You wanted more, especially if it meant getting them off. “Fuck me harder, I can take it,” you assured nodding your head vigorously, wrapping your ankles around Jimin’s small, chiseled waist.
He bit his lip and wasted no time before quickening his pace, rapidly fucking you. Skin slapping quickly became the most prominent sound in the room again. Jungkook zoomed in on your cunt, recording you swallow Jimin’s cock whole while his thrusts were long and deep. “This sweet pussy is all ours huh? Never gonna forget how good we fucked you baby?” Jimin spoke, his hand that held your waist, now lifting your thigh over his shoulder as he reached deeper into your G-spot.
You gasped for air as the new angle penetrated deeper. “Never! It’s all yours, belong to both of you daddy,”
Jimin’s cock twitched inside you at your words, his climax climbing quicker than he wanted it to. “Shit, you’re so fucking tight. Feel so fucking good, sweet baby,” he praised, mewling at the sensation. Jungkooks cock was gripped in his hand; he squeezed indecently preventing his own cum to leak out. “Shit, you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow aren’t you y/n?” Jungkook asked as he took another step closer to your face, his cock hovering over it.
The sight of his cocked filled your eyes and shook your head in response. “No sir, you guys fucked me too good,”
“That’s right angel, fucked you so good that all your pretty brain can think about is us,” Jungkook responded as he stroked himself faster to the sight of you.
Jimin’s grunts were deep, and his words faltered at the tongue as his end was near. He slowed down moments afterwards, leaning against the crook of your neck as he took in your scent. Deep kisses fell amongst your neck. “Bout to cum baby, take it all for me,” he confessed, thrusting a few more times before you felt your hole fill with the warm liquid.
“Jimin! Fuck!” you screamed as your own high too combusted around his cock, spilling between your thighs and smacking against his.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Jungkook cursed as thick white ropes shot from his slit onto your sweaty face, painting you in his own release.
All three of you were breathless fucked-out messes. Jimin collapsing against your sweaty chest as you wrapped your arms around him, allowing him to lie against you as he caught his breath.
Jungkook shut off the camcorder, placing it on the coffee table running a finger through his hair. “Are you two, okay?” He asked, looking below, watching you two nod your heads and pant. “Princess, was that too much?” Jimin wondered, his head lifting up to look at you. Scanning your face for any sign of discomfort or uncertainty.
You shook your head. “Was so perfect, I loved it so much,” you answered honestly, giving them a golden smile as your eyes closed. Relaxing in the warm embrace of Jimin.
Your heartbeat slowed and you drifted off into a peaceful sleep afterwards.
—
The next morning, you’re in a white linen bed, sandwiched between Jimin and Jungkook.
Your eyes scanned the room; it looks like you finally made it to the bedroom after all. You looked to your left; the men were kind enough to have plugged your phone up for the night and folded your dress on the counter.
And to your right, a sleeping Jungkook. Mouth half open as he snored peacefully in his rest.
You shuffled a bit in the bed, trying to get an aim at what time it was before you felt movement next to you. Jimin.
His messy bed hair and tired gaze met you, a warm smile and hand pulling you close to his chest. “Good morning, beautiful,” he whispered quietly with his husky morning voice.
“Good morning,” you replied quietly, leaning against his bare chest.
Your eyes found the clock, reading that it was 6am. Surprised that you were naturally awake at this time, you sighed once you realized that you would have to leave soon.
Jimin held you tighter. “Planning on going so soon?” He whispered against your hair, strumming your shoulder gently.
“Have to. You have a show to prepare for all day,” you answered honestly. A small frown tugging at the side of your lips.
“You’re gonna be there for tonight’s show, right?” he recalled quietly, his voice was still groggy but his tone warm and sincere.
You nodded. You did have tickets for tonight, and you were more than excited and blessed to have the opportunity to attend.
“Then we’ll see you again tonight, babygirl,”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺
a/n: its finally out!! repost, tag, like and share ur thoughts on the fic! see u all next time love bugs <3
Tags: fluff, explicit sexual content, very personal.
SFW:
His humor is a gift, carefully unwrapped for u. He’ll immediately notice when u have a bad day, then appears in the doorway wearing ur frilly apron as a cape, striking a dramatic superhero pose. He’ll send u a perfectly timed, ridiculously exaggerated slow-mo video of himself tripping over nothing in the living room, just to hear ur surprised laugh through the phone. He studies what makes u giggle – a specific silly face, a terrible pun, an impromptu dance to elevator music – and he hones it. Your joy is his happiness.
His hugs are legendary for a reason. He does not just grab u, he envelopes u. He opens his arms and u step into his space; he closes them around u like he’s sealing in warmth. One hand cups the back of ur head, fingers threading gently through ur hair. The other always on ur waist, or spreads wide on the small of ur back, pressing u firmly, securely, against his chest. He often lets out a deep, contented sigh, his chin resting over ur head or shoulder. In that hold, u feel both utterly protected and like u are his shelter. He’ll sway slightly, a barely-there rock, and whisper, “Mm. So perfect.”
Watch him when he thinks no one is looking. The way his soft, elegant fingers carefully straighten a crooked picture frame. How he examines a fallen leaf on a walk, turning it over to see the intricate veins, his expression one of quiet wonder. He touches the world softly, thoughtfully. That same delicacy is reserved for u – the way he brushes a stray hair from ur face, his thumb tracing the arch of ur eyebrow, his hands cradling ur face as if you’re made of the most fragile glass.
When you're overwhelmed, he doesn't ask for a list of what u need. He observes, assesses, and acts. “Okay,” he’ll say, voice low and steady. “Give me your phone. Go take a bath. I’ll order food, handle the texts, and you are not to think about any of it for the next two hours.” It’s not controlling; it’s relieving. He creates a space where u can truly shut down because he’s got the wheel, and u trust his hands completely.
He cannot sit still if you're working. You try to cook, he's immediately behind you, washing the vegetables you just set down, his hip subtly bumping yours. “What do i do next,” he murmurs, observing ur moves and waiting for ur next request. He finds purpose in partnership, in sharing the mundane load. Folding laundry becomes a quiet, intimate ritual, his fingers brushing yours as he passes you a sock.
grocery shopping with him is an adventure. he’ll put things in the cart u didn’t ask for—a weird fruit he wants u to try, a fancy chocolate bar “for later,” a silly-shaped gummy candy “because it looked lonely.” the bill is always higher (will never let u pay), but the experience is worth it.
he sends u pictures of things that makes him think of u. a cup of coffee perfectly placed on a windowsill. a puppy he saw on his walk. a sunset. captioned simply: “thought of u.” his world is constantly filtered through the lens of ur presence in his life.
he loves teaching u small things about his world. how to do a dance step, the meaning behind a lyric he wrote, how to cook a simple dish his mom taught him. he gets so focused and gentle in his explanations, his eyes shining. sharing his knowledge is sharing a piece of his soul.
he has a “comfort voice.” when u’re sick or sad or just tired, his normal playful tone drops into something lower, smoother, like warm milk. he uses it when comforting u or reading to u. it’s a vocal blanket.
he’s ur personal temperature regulator. if u shiver, his jacket is already around u. if u sweat, he’s fanning u with a pamphlet or his hand, gently wiping ur face. he’s constantly attuned to ur physical comfort, adjusting the environment around u like he’s ur own living thermostat.
he celebrates ur tiny victories like they’re national holidays. u finished a work task? “let’s get ice cream!” u finally fixed that wobbly shelf? “my genius baby! i’m so proud!” his enthusiasm makes ur ordinary achievements feel extraordinary.
he’s the first to notice ur new things. a new earring, a new pen, a new shade of lip balm. he’ll point it out immediately. “that’s new. it’s pretty baby. suits u.” his attention to the tiny details of ur existence makes u feel seen in a way no one else does.
he has a specific scent that is just ‘jimin’. it’s not just his cologne; it’s his skin, his clothes, his natural smell mixed with clean laundry and warmth. when u bury ur face in his chest, that scent is instant calm. he knows this, so he leaves his hoodies at ur place strategically.
His phone always in his hands, except lots of messages, especially if ure working separately:
“Babe you there? Miss you already T.T”
“Saw a blue bird today. Thought of you ☺️”
“Is that cafe good? Should I order lunch? What are you eating?”
“Finished my schedule! Be home in 40 mins exactly. Don’t start the movie without meeeeeeee!”
“Love you. <3 <3 <3” (sent roughly every 20 minutes).
he keeps a "comfort kit" in his bag/car for u: painkillers, a hair tie, pads/tampons, mints, a portable charger, a spare pair of socks. u only find out when u need something n he produces it like magic.
he will literally drop anything if u say his name in a certain tone. from across the room, if u just say “jiminie...” softly, he's at ur side in seconds. “yes? what do you need?”
if u cough once, he appears with water n honey. if u sniffle, he's checking the thermostat. his caretaking is immediate n instinctual.
he’s a magnet for animals and kids, and u love watching it. a cat will wander over to him on the street. a kid in a park will offer him their toy. he interacts with them with the same gentle, focused respect he gives u. seeing that purity reflected back at him from the world confirms everything u know about his heart. ㅤ♡ྀི
NSFW:
Sex with him is a study in overwhelming sensation and relentless closeness. He does not simply take you from behind; he molds his body to yours, his chest a solid wall against your back, one arm banded like iron across your ribs, the other hand tangled in your hair, pulling just enough to arch your neck for his teeth. He whispers filth into the shell of your ear, each word a puff of hot air. “This cunt was made for me. It sucks me in like it's starving. You are starving for me, aren't you?” His thrusts are deep, punishing, designed to erase all thought, all space between you.
he’s obsessed with making u cum first. multiple times. it’s his mission. he’ll eat u out until ur thighs r shaking, then kiss his way up ur body, whispering “just one more, baby, i know u can give me one more,” before sliding in. coming before u isn’t an option for him. ur pleasure is his prerequisite.
he loves when u beg. but not pathetic begging—frustrated, needy begging. when u grind against his thigh whining “jimin, please,” he’ll smirk, palming ur ass. “please what? use ur big girl words. tell me exactly what ur cunt is asking for.” he makes u articulate ur filth, and it makes u hotter.
Hes a big bully in bed. Not always but sometimes he laughs at u, especially when he fingering u, ur pathetic words and moans turns him on sm he can’t help it but bully u for it. “Aw jiminie fuck me pls, i need ur cock in me pls. Do u listen to yourself ,baby? You sound so pathetic. So cute. Im gonna ruin you.”
his strength snatches ur breath away. he can lift u and carry u to the bed while still inside u, not breaking stride. he’ll hold u up against the shower wall, water sluicing over his flexed biceps as he pounds into u, ur moans echoing on the tiles.
spanking is a whole ritual. he doesn’t just spank. he warms u up with firm rubs, then delivers sharp, crisp smacks that sting so good. he’ll make u count them. if u lose count, he starts over. “we’re doing this properly, sweetheart. focus.” the mix of pain and his controlled focus is intoxicating.
after rough sessions, his aftercare is mother-hen level. he’ll apply aloe to any red marks from his grip, kissing each one. he brings u chocolate and water. he cradles u, rocking slightly. “my brave girl. u took me so well. so perfect.” the whiplash from beast to caregiver makes u fall for him all over again.
he’s a vocal fucking mess in bed. low grunts, guttural “fucks,” sharp inhales. when he’s close, his moans get high, breathy, so pretty—a crazy contrast to the rough way he’s fucking u. hearing that break in his control is everything.
The audio tapes. Oh, the audio tapes. They're his secret weapon. He'll send them when he's traveling. Just a voice memo, sometimes 30 minutes long. At first, it's just his soft voice telling you about his day, missing you. Then his breathing will hitch. You'll hear the faint, slick sound of lube, then the slow, rhythmic stroke of his cock. His voice goes thick, dreamy. “Thinking about your mouth... god, the way you look up at me...” The sounds get wetter, faster. You can hear his pre-cum, the slow twist of his wrist on the tip. He moans your name like a prayer, then a curse, then a sob. The climax is raw, shuddering, and often ends with a shaky breath and a soft, tearful “I love you so much it hurts.”
sometimes he wants to be used. not in a sub way, but in a ‘i am ur playground’ way. he’ll lay back and guide ur hand to his cock. “do whatever u want. tease me. ruin me. i’m just here for ur entertainment.” seeing him bite his lip, eyes closed, giving u complete control over his pleasure is a power trip.
he finds sex in the kitchen irresistible. the risk of someone maybe calling, the mundane setting. he’ll bend u over the counter while ur hands r still wet from washing dishes, pushing ur shorts down just enough. “couldn’t wait. u looked too good standing here.” it’s quick, dirty, and leaves u flustered for hours.
he’s fascinated by ur reactions. he’ll try different things just to catalog the responses: a gasp for this, a full-body shudder for that. he’s a student of ur body. “oh, u like that? good to know.” he files everything away for future use.
he gets off on praise. tell him “u feel so good inside me” and his thrusts stutter, a broken moan leaving his lips. “say it again. fuck, tell me how u feel.” he craves the verbal confirmation that he’s pleasing u.
he loves using toys on u, bigger than him, just to watch u stretch and take it, whispering “look at u, taking so much. my greedy girl.” He finds sickening joy in stretching ur pussy.
he loves when u wear his clothes to bed—just one of his big t-shirts. he finds it insanely hot. knowing ur naked under it, smelling like him. he’ll push the fabric up slowly, kissing ur stomach, murmuring “my favorite look on u.”
Always touching u under the blanket. He always gets this idea and desire, especially if there’s ppl around u. He’s either pulling u on his lap, slowly grinding his hips up ur pussy, feeling his cock already hard asf, or rubbing his fingers on ur clit inside ur panties. It’s a big challenge for u since u need to be quiet, but jimin loves the risk. All that while talking to the person standing next to u both. Pretending like ure not even there.
He’s obsessed with ur boobs. His eyes always on them first b4 looking at ur face, especially if u wear tiny crop tops. Or if u wearing a baggy shirt, he will hook his fingers in ur collar, picking inside curiously. Just to check on them.
His hand always kneading them, while u watching a movie on the couch, his hand always inside ur shirt. While u standing doing ur makeup or in the kitchen cooking smth, he’s always behind u touching ur tits.
And during sex ugh. U always end up with ur tits bruised, lovely bruises. His mouth literally making hearts on ur chest, leaving love bites everywhere. Sucking, biting, slapping, squeezing, and always end up sleeping on them, while his lips wrapped around ur nipple.
Therefore why he’s a complete mess when u ride him. Fucking hell just tie him up and let him see them bounce, or on his face. Or even better, stroke his cock with ur tits. God hes a goner. He LOVES tits fucking.
Jimin always loses his mind when u give him head. It’s the best fucking feeling to him. He never lasts more than 5 mins. Ur head game is crazy, u just know how to use ur tongue on his already leaking tip. Especially if u use ur hand and mouth combo. Hes gone. Moaning so loud and giggling bcuz it always blows his mind how u make him reach his peak so fast.
Another obsession of his is ur waist. He loves sitting down while u standing between his thighs just rubbing his face on ur stomach, his hands gently stroking ur sides while he kiss every inch of ur body. Or holding ur waist as he fucks u deep, his hands always leaves lovely bruises on ur hips, kissing them later as an excuse cuz hes a gentleman and he has to worship u.
Sleep is merely another arena for his possession. He prefers you on your side, his front plastered to your back, his arm a heavy weight across your waist, his hand splayed possessively over your lower belly. Even in unconsciousness, his hips occasionally press a lazy, seeking rhythm against your ass. Or on top of u, His face is buried in ur chest , breathing you in. You are held, surrounded, consumed, And happy ㅤ♡ྀི
A/N: the difference between how i write jk hcs and jm hcs is fcking killing mednjdjdjdjjddj why im like this
And I didn’t necessarily went with the ‘clingy bf’ ones bcuz I’ve more to say abt him than how clingy he is okay
Now ik I ghosted yall for a bit now but im back with a better mood and promise will go through all ur requests very soon 💕
