#pjms

[happinessijn]

[lokisasylum]

[justjikook]

Jimin's Rockstar Vibes😊🐥♥️

[aoxniznao]

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

[lostcatinthedark]

You can feel the tension rise as the time for Jimin's release from ms approaches. What I mentioned before how Jimin's personality gets misconstrued because of his silence is true. Mostly because people are not used to that, it's easy to know what someone wants and where someone is heading when they tell you about it, and honestly most people are yappers, but that makes it easier to categorize them and anticipate their actions. But Jimin works and lives in silence, so that's where projections and fears take place. But he does say enough through his art, it's just harder to decode because he always uses symbols and metaphors. If by now you don't listen to Smfpt2 and have a clearer idea of who he is, you just didn't get it. This is a hard-working, resilient, smart guy. I hate when people use his kindness against him by trying to paint him as someone who will always sacrifice for others, who would never put himself first. When that song tells you the opposite. And it's his favorite one for a reason. It's an impactful song, one where he acknowledges his power both for positive and for destruction. This man literally called himself Tailor of chaos. That's exactly who he is, the thing is he is a nice person so he wouldn't do something immoral, but he's absolutely someone who would strategize the best way to achieve something or get rid of a situation, the best way to get people's attention, the best way to poke at someone without getting in trouble or affecting others. And he will never tell you about it, one day you'll just realize when you see it happened.

So people need to get that into their heads, he chooses diplomacy but that doesn't mean that he agrees with everything happening around him, or that he even gets along with everyone. He is kind, but he is also very protective of his loved ones. He is humble, but you can tell he is ambitious too and if he sees obstacles in his way to his goals, he'll try to move them or simply change paths to get to where he wants to go. I'm saying this because people still don't get it, some fans worry about things that he probably already has under control and his antis think that he isn't doing anything at all. He is in a complicated situation for sure, but I'm sure that he has taken the right steps for his goals.

It will be funny when something happens in the future and people who don't know him say: "omg I never saw this coming from him" and trust that his haters will rot with resentment saying "I wonder what shady thing he did to achieve that". Mark my words. Unfortunately that always seems to be a topic of conversation surrounding him (his success, his loving fans, his supportive dad) and it's not just people trying to invalidate him and his support system, it's also because he never matches the projections and expectations people have of him, and that just make people feel resentful when he steps out of that box (even though he's told you a bunch of times there is no box at all). His number is literally the 13, that's the death number, in other words, the rebirth number. Bring everything down to create something brand new.

So my advice, trust in this man's intelligence and be patient. If you know you know!

[swanlakebaby]

the elite’s secret dancer — pjm

SUMMARY: one night, jimin slips into an underground elite club in Gangnam, a place where names are forbidden and sins are currency. there, under dim lights, he sees you, a dancer who performs like a warning rather than an invitation. no introductions. no promises. just a shared glance that feels like a pact. what begins as silent fascination turns into a secret rendezvous neither of you acknowledge out loud. in a world built on image and illusions, two strangers become each other’s most dangerous truth.

→ pairing: bts!jimin x fem!reader

→ tags: wet dream, fem reader, dom reader, sub reader, dom jimin, sub jimin, mystery, murder mystery, thriller, idol, fame, smut, grinding, stripping, private dancer, seoul

→ word count: 2.1k

he looked up at you, you looked down at him.

and with the faintest shift of weight, you settled onto his lap. not fully, not with pressure, more like a ghost of a presence. the kind of closeness that made distance feel like a sin. his breath deepened. he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to exhale.

you leaned in, slow, unhurried, your face inches from his. not touching, just hovering. your hair brushed his cheek like smoke. your hands rested lightly on his shoulders, not gripping but just there.

the mirrors reflected it back to him: his stillness, your control, the fragile tension between restraint and surrender.

you moved. not with intention to provoke, but with the kind of fluidity that made gravity feel like it existed for you alone. you slowly grinded against his lap, the music soft and faint in the distance. jimin couldn't blink, or breathe. his attention was soley fixated on you.

after a few moments of intense staring, your hips grinding against his lap, a small smirk tugged at your lips before you spoke. ''you can hold my waist.'' you said. so he did, he softly placed his hands on your sides, breaking the eye contact as he looked down at your body. slow, rhythmic, hypnotic even. the grip on his shoulders tightened as you picked up the pace. his breath hitched. you were fully grinding against him now, the premise of a private dance completely forgotten.

but jimin only followed, tightening the grip on your hips as the thin fabric of your lace undies rubbed against his jeans. you felt his boner from beneath you, confirmation that you were doing the right thing. his breath intensified. he threw his head back against the velvet chair, pulling your body closer to him in one swift motion.

''jimin.'' you whisper into the air. he nods, his eyes closed, his head still against the seat. ''jimin.'' you repeated, softer now. ''hmm?'' he groans, the touch of you feeling faint, almost nonexistant.

''jimin?''

jungkook hovered over him, long black strings of his hair dangling from above jimin's face. ''wake up.'' jungkook says, shaking the bed. jimin's eyes flutter open, his breathing fast and intense. ''we're going to be late, but fine.'' jungkook says, quickly surrendering to the difficult task of waking jimin up. ''if they ask, tell them it's your fault.''

as jungkook leaves the room, jimin takes a heavy breath. fuck. get it together, park jimin.

you were gone. nowhere to be seen, inaccessible. not in a club with him, hidden in the dark corners of the private lounge, giving him a lap dance so intense he was on the brink of cumming through his jeans. you were merely a memory of the past now. he wondered if he'd ever see you again.

the glossy black sedan eased to a stop without a sound. even the engine seemed to know not to intrude here. jimin stared through the tinted window at the building before him, or what appeared to be a building. from the outside, it was nothing but a narrow, blackened structure wedged between two glass high-rises in Gangnam. no sign. no windows. no indication of life. if not for the faint pulse of crimson light seeping from a slit along the entrance, he would’ve thought his driver had made a mistake.

“your membership card, sir,” his personal driver murmured, passing a sleek black card into his hand. one word gleamed in deep, blood-red foil, engraved into the card:

Velvet.

Park Jimin. Status: Elite Member

this was not on any map. not on any social registry. not even whispered about in the schedules of actors, idols, or CEOs who claimed to have seen everything worth seeing. Velvet was a myth, something elites claimed to have visited in song lyrics or drunken boastings but never described.

no one ever dared.

with one final breath, jimin stepped out into the cool night air. the door closed behind him like the sealing of a fate. he approached the entrance, where two bouncers in crisp, fitted black suits stood motionless. their posture was casual, but there was something unmistakable about them, the kind of stillness belonging not to hired guards, but trained predators. their cufflinks alone were worth more than most people’s cars.

they scanned him once. not his ID, him. approval came in the form of silence. a panel in the wall slid open soundlessly, revealing a low-lit corridor lined with dark, velvet-padded walls. it was like being swallowed. soft music echoed in the distance. not upbeat, not loud. it slithered, slow and sultry, a honeyed bassline that curled around the spine and whispered come closer.

jimin followed the glow until the corridor opened into a scene that almost knocked the breath from his lungs. it wasn’t a club. it was an altar to decadence.

the entire space was drenched in deep, carmine red. walls draped in velvet curtains that glimmered like wet wine under golden chandeliers. the lights were low, never harsh, casting silhouettes rather than faces. there were no tables, only semi-circular lounges sunk into the floor like royal dens, trimmed with gold and obsidian. smoke drifted lazily from crystal hookah pipes. champagne bottles popped without celebration, sound swallowed by the bass.

everyone was beautiful. not in a manufactured, media-trained way, but effortlessly, cruelly. the kind of beauty that came from legacy bloodlines and immaculate confidence. idols jimin had only seen on award show broadcasts. heirs of chaebol families he’d overheard executives whispering about. foreign royalty. even the bartenders, each one looked like they belonged on magazine covers, serving drinks as if it were performance art, rather than what they depended on for income.

but it wasn’t the patrons who stole his attention. not the billionaires lounging with indifference, and not the actresses laughing behind jeweled fingers. it was the stage. barely raised, framed by velvet curtains and bathed in a single spotlight. empty, for now.

until the music shifted.

the bass grew darker. thicker. like ragged cloth dragged over skin. a hush rolled through the room, conversations dissolving midsentence as every head turned. someone was coming. from behind the curtain, a silhouette emerged. slow. unhurried. confident in a way that didn’t ask for attention, but instead commanded it.

you.

your body was draped in black silk that clung to your frame like it had been poured there. no jewelry. no unnecessary embellishments. just the fluid grace of someone who had never needed to beg to be seen.

you didn’t smile. you didn’t flirt. you simply existed.

and the room bent around you.

jimin forgot to breathe.

he had seen dancers all his life. in studios, rehearsals, stages. he is one. but this? this wasn’t choreography. this wasn’t for applause. this was possession. to remind every elite individual in the audience that although they ran the industry, they didn't run you.

every movement was liquid, spine arching like a serpent, fingers trailing through the air as if writing some forbidden prayer. you danced not for the crowd, but as if the space itself was bowing under you, velvet floors aching to be touched. you never looked at the audience.

until you did, straight at him.

it was brief , a flicker of acknowledgment, gone before it could be questioned. but it landed with precision. a warning, challenge, maybe even a promise. jimin felt it like static beneath his skin. for the first time in a long time, the idol who spent years onstage…

…wanted to leave his seat and approach. not as park jimin. not as the adored, untouchable star. but rather, as a man who had just found the one soul in the room who didn’t care who he was.

and that was more dangerous than anything he’d ever known.

-

the only person who failed to remain poker faced was jimin. his face said it all. a mix of curiosity, lust, and a desire to know more about you. he felt empty but full at the same time. half-hungry.

it had felt as though the performance ended without warning.

no final pose. no grand finish. you simply stopped, mid-turn, as if deciding the moment was no longer worth sharing. the music faded beneath your silence, and the lights dimmed until your figure was nothing but a suggestion behind the velvet curtain.

jimin stood before he even realized he had moved. a few heads turned lazily in his direction, but no one stopped him. patrons in Velvet were used to people following their vices. his feet carried him toward the stage with purpose, past waiters with wine-dark trays, past murmuring heirs who already looked bored of their own access. the curtain swallowed him whole.

the backstage corridor was narrow, lined not with utility equipment or exit signs, but mirrors. floor to ceiling, tinted like aged gold. in the dim light, his reflection looked like a stranger. flushed cheeks. tense jaw. pupils blown wide.

he paced down the hall, turning corners that looped like a maze, curtained doorways leading to private dressing lounges, silk curtains shifting from an invisible breeze. every few steps, he caught a trace of something, jasmine, maybe. or danger.

you had gone this way. he knew it.

he was close. too close.

he turned one last corner and froze. your silk wrap lay draped over a chaise lounge. still warm. recently touched. but you were nowhere. no footsteps. no doors opening. no whispered laughter. just silence. as if you had evaporated. jimin stood still for a long moment, staring at the silk like it might come alive. his fingers hovered above it, wanting to touch, but knowing it would say too much if he did.

“looking for someone?”

the voice came from behind him. smooth, unconcerned, and masculine. jimin turned to see one of the bartenders leaning against the wall. tall, immaculate, with an accent jimin couldn’t place. probably european. most likely old money. before jimin could answer, the bartender smiled with a knowing tilt of his head.

“best not to chase ghosts here.”

“i’m not chasing anyone,” jimin replied too quickly.

the bartender’s grin widened, as if he found the denial amusing. “everyone chases someone in Velvet. some find them. some never do.”

jimin clenched his jaw. “who was she?” the bartender’s eyes flicked to the silk on the couch, then back to him.

“she’ll find you, if she wants to.”

“if?” jimin says, not liking that answer.

a shrug. “no one finds her. she chooses.”

jimin stood there, heartbeat steadying but refusing to calm. you hadn’t just slipped away. you had decided to leave before he could reach you, as if watching from the shadows, waiting to see if he’d follow. and now, he had. the bartender stepped past him, pausing only to whisper, “welcome to Velvet, jimin. try not to lose yourself, even if the temptation seems to be pulling you into a hole too deep to crawl out of.''

-

he didn’t see you again that night.

no repeat performance. no glimpse from across the room. not even a flicker of your silhouette in the velvet haze of the club.

the longer he stayed, the more Velvet felt different. as if the entire place had agreed to pretend you didn’t exist. conversations resumed, laughter returned. even the music shed the weight of its earlier seduction.

the world moved on, but jimin couldn’t.

at last, long past midnight, he let the illusion swallow itself. he slipped toward the exit, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched as if physically restraining the need to turn back. the door shut behind him with a soft hiss. cool night air met him like a slap. the silence outside was jarring after the honey-thick atmosphere of the club. for a moment he just stood there, grounded in the unfamiliar sensation of emptiness.

no lights. no music. no eyes on him.

just darkness.

he stepped forward, his driver sitting in the car, waiting for him to get back inside to take you home. when suddenly,

“leaving so soon?”

the whisper wasn’t loud. it came from behind him, or beside him, or everywhere at once. close enough to raise goosebumps along the back of his neck.

he froze. the voice was unmistakable.

yours.

calm, unhurried, laced with quiet amusement, like you already knew his response. he turned slowly. but no one was there. the street was empty. the door behind him was shut. his pulse quickened, not in fear, but in realization. you hadn’t disappeared. you were watching. listening, choosing your moments. he swallowed, steadying his breath. his voice came out low. controlled.

“are you going to keep hiding?” a beat of silence.

then soft, like smoke curling against his ear:

“no. just waiting for you to decide how badly you want to find me.”

and then, nothing. no footsteps, no wind. only the echo of your words and the unmistakable truth settling into his bones:

this wasn’t a chase, this was a lure. and he had already taken the bait.

days had passed.

jimin hadn’t slept properly since that night. not because of work, not because of rehearsals, not because of awards or schedules, but because of you. the memory of your whisper lingered in his mind, crawling under his skin, a phantom pulse he couldn’t shake.

he tried to rationalize it. it was just a game, wasn’t it? a fleeting shadow in a club he would likely never see again. and yet… he was back. jimin didn’t come alone this time. jungkook, his bandmate and bestfriend, leaned casually against the sleek black sedan parked outside.

“velvet, huh?” jungkook murmured, peering at the nondescript building, running his tatted fingers over his name, engraved into his own membership card. “i thought it was a myth. the way you’ve been talking about it, i expected… i don’t know… smoke and mirrors.”

“something like that,” jimin replied, his voice low, clipped. “you’ll see.”

they entered.

inside, Velvet felt both familiar and alien. the red velvet walls swallowed the light in the same way as before, the chandeliers dripping gold over lounges sunk into shadow. but this time, jimin noticed everything differently. every glance, every whisper, every movement seemed sharper. more deliberate.

and he noticed it immediately: you were nowhere in sight. not on the stage, among the dancers. not in any of the corners. jungkook, unaware of the history, gave a low whistle. “pretty intense vibe. everyone here looks like they could own the world.”

jimin didn’t answer. he couldn’t. he scanned the room like a predator. his pulse picked up at the faintest flicker of movement behind the curtains. he knew you were here. he didn’t know how, but he felt it. minutes passed. drinks were poured. music slithered through the room, seductive and low, and yet jimin’s attention remained fractured, searching.

then… a whisper. not loud, not audible to anyone else. but to him:

“back so soon?” he froze, heart hammering.

he spun around. nothing.

only the curve of the velvet curtains swaying slightly, as if teasing him with your absence. jungkook nudged him. “you okay? you look like someone just… haunted you.”

“i’m fine,” jimin said, teeth clenched. his gaze stayed on the curtains. “just… remembering something.” you didn’t need to show yourself. you never did. every move was calculated, every appearance and disappearance, a test. a warning. a message.

jimin realized he wasn’t here to watch. he was here to find you. and this time, he wasn’t leaving until he did. but the tension coiled tighter, because in Velvet, no one ever truly belongs. not even an idol.

not even him.

-

jimin had waited just long enough for the crowd to settle, for the music to thrum low in its sultry pulse. then, he slipped away. ''i'll be back.'' he murmured to jungkook. jungkook, however, was too drunk to care. his eyes glossed over as he swayed his body to the haunting music. a dancer rubbing his shoulder gently, enticing him to a private dance.

past velvet curtains, past the glow of chandeliers. past the dancers and bartenders who never acknowledged him. backstage. again.

it was quieter this time, somehow. suffused with a mix of perfume, sweat, and polished leather. dim sconces cast soft shadows along the walls, illuminating nothing but hints, a chaise lounge here, a discarded silk wrap there.

every instinct screamed at him to stop. but he had to find you. and then… a voice.

“you shouldn’t be here.”

jimin froze.

not a whisper, not playful or teasing. firm, direct. controlled. your voice carried through the backstage, soft but impossible to ignore. he spun toward it. there you were. standing in the center of the space, arms crossed, eyes dark and calculating. you were draped in black silk, like the previous night, every fold absorbing the faint light, making you look almost like a shadow pulled from the room itself.

“i could feel you coming,” you continued. “sneaking behind curtains, tiptoeing through a world you barely understand.”

“i… i had to,” he admitted, voice low. “i…”

“you don’t get to just walk in here,” you interrupted, stepping closer, each movement deliberate. “velvet isn’t a playground for idols. you’re not supposed to see this. not yet. not like this. the people here know they don't run things, for once.”

jimin’s pulse quickened. “then tell me what i am supposed to do. tell me how to...”

you held up a hand. silence fell, thick and suffocating. he could hear only the faint hum of the club beyond the walls and the uneven rhythm of his own heartbeat. “i’m not going to tell you anything,” you said finally. “not tonight. not until you’ve proven you’re willing to play by my rules. and even then…” you tilted your head slightly, voice dropping into a whisper that made the hair on his arms stand on end. “…i decide when, where, and how. not you. you don't get to chase me around like a dog running after a treat. like i said, that's not how that works here.”

“i… yes,” he said, though he wasn’t sure whether he understood. only that he wanted to. you smiled faintly, a curve so subtle it could have been mistaken for shadow. a new player for your own made up game. “good, then leave. think about what you want. decide how badly you’re willing to risk it. because if you cross the wrong line here, your idol face and status doesn't get to save you.”

the warning lingered in the air as you stepped back, merging with the shadows once again. jimin’s hands itched to follow, to grab, to demand. but he stayed rooted, not wanting this game to end before it could even start.

and as he finally slipped back into the main floor of velvet, he knew one thing with absolute clarity:

he would follow you anywhere. no matter the cost. which was risky and dangerous, he knew very well. but it was a risk that he was willing to take, which scared him the most.

→ a/n: the first chapter of my series. but don’t worry, kinktober is still happening 😗.. but let me know how the story is so far. i plan to add more smut & mystery in the next chapters. i’m just easing you into the plot for now! i’ve always been nervous about doing a series because if i did a series i’d want it to be something people would be invested in. but i feel like this plot was something i needed to write about, regardless, so here it is ❤️

[alrightiguesstheblameisonme]

Alright, because this topic seems to be doing rounds in the Tumblr PJM circle yet again, I am gonna share with you as an experienced Jimin Stan how you can adjust your stanning experience. These are my reflections and lessons from growing into the happy Jimin fan I am now.

Twitter isn't the real world. I don't know just how many times we have to reinstate this. Yes, JM isn't stan twitter's token favourite. Have you seen their favourites? Do you want him to be that? Yes, that platform's nature has turned it into a breeding ground for nasty shippers. People lie, say things that no human should type out and get away with it. I understand how the vileness can impact you, but for the love of god, it doesn't translate into any kind of notable impact or a real issue for him. Yes, I know about the edited posters at Old BigHit building. Yes, I know about his father turning off his comments (who has since done a discharge event for him, continues to be showered in fan love - a friend of mine recently went to the cafe and gave him a bouquet and he was so smiley and happy, a panocha article isn't changing his way of life ). Yeah it's a nuisance. But it's probably impacting you, a fan, way more than him, a world renowned artist who expects some of these weird actions from fandoms. A middle aged NJZ fan literally went up to a BTS installation during Festa and wrote 'Tokkis forever'. That's a blatant form of disrespect. Yoongi got wreaths addressing him for weeks. Taehyung got collectively unstanned due to his MCDonalds photo with hundreds of thousands of likes. Jk's dog's instagram comment section is filled with filth, demands of solo music asap and accusations of FanService. Kpop has always been a nasty zone since Gen 1. BTS knows they have antis out there. It's part of the gig. Jimin is literally Korea's favourite BTS boy and top IDOL, they love him. I know because I have been there multiple times, spoken to locals, and gone to Busan. What you see on the internet isn't the reality. He's got those five old homophobic K-JJKs as opps, but then they are also an opps to JK given their nasty behaviour. All of them get hate, Jimin gets a lot more because he's more relevant and a literal character in the shipping dramas. You can acknowledge that but also be at peace that he gets so much more love. You are possibly biased because your bubble exposes you to the hate a lot. The only constructive thing we gotta do is ensure misinformation doesn't spread, spread positive narratives around Jimin and celebrate him. The rest, it's a you problem. To all these fans who actively go find that one odd comment and quote it with "Oh jimin my heart breaks for you". No, that's just you and your inferiority complex at display. You sought that out. Jimin is fine before and after that comment. Do call out people, do it because they're misrepresenting things. But also do what it takes to give you peace of mind. JM looks happy and calm. Can you not soak it in? What's this urge to bring a hate tweet with 2 likes and then complain about it? If you really wanna do something go to Youtube shorts and TikTok and start representing Jimin in a positive light, make cunty edits of him, scream about his greatness and start building that narrative.

Don't buy the narratives you see, even within the PJM community. Misinformation is so rampant within the BTS fandom, it's insane. If you have been around since 2017-2018, you would be baffled by how many insider jokes and anti narratives have become mainstream and are believed as facts. That clip of JK singing angrily with the story that he had exams the next day, it resurfaces every three weeks. It was literally a viral twitter joke. The Jimin ED narrative, a 100% manufactured one. He has not dieted any more than the rest of the BTS have. It's just been perpetuated thanks to fans who love to project and both groups of shippers, one that thinks of JM as a dainty damsel in distress and the other one that portrays him as insecure. So much BTS lore is just straight up fiction and also a few random sentences in an IV blown up. BTS historically has always spoken in a curated, respectful manner, especially Jimin. He's very diplomatic, he says things in a very mindful, relatable way- even that IV about him finding himself and growing up where he showed a lot of rawness, the language he used was so so beautiful and well thought out. He's not here sharing his deepest darkest thoughts on Lives casually, he does that through his music. Don't let these hit tweets warp your impression of Jimin. Find him through your own eyes and his own words.

There's no need for you to fit a label to Stan him. You can be an ARMY, a PJM, a jimentte, a jimim lover, a BabyJ fan, a casual stan who tunes into his music. You can stan him in any capacity. The fandom isn't a monolith, there's no leaders, there's no handbook for acting like a fan. You just do you. Support Jimin, love him, adore him, send him cute letters and get on with your life. The ring leaders in the ARMY world and PJM world hold zero power and influence over you. They can have 500k followers and it means nothing. You not aligning and agreeing with them means nothing. It's okay if you want a community, it's okay if you don't. This is meant to be an enjoyable experience. The moment it goes beyond, cut yourself free. If you are actually crying because you saw a hate tweet from an account that hates on him full-time, know that you are too deep in. I am not invalidating your emotions, but I am saying that's not how this is supposed to be.

Jimin is a kind, gentle, generous, warm and endlessly talented artist who has time and again proven how passionate and resilient he is. Stanning him is easy and heartwarming. I hope you all get to that point where you enjoy that fully.

[fuzzytadpole]

Some designs for my lolita AU! Everything is mostly the same story-wise, but everyone wears lolita/ouji fashion. It’s one of my favourite interests, so I love meshing them like this. :)