Nothing ever went according to plan, normally that’s the way all the best things occurred anyway, right? The baker knew nothing about music, had some hot shot idol show up at his shop and had no clue who he was, sending the man off angry and annoyed at his ignorance. The story was far too amusing to a friend who said he’d need to broaden his horizons, that he should learn more about music, about things that didn’t involve chocolate and sweets and would you like that for here or to go’s.
So being here now at this underground rap battle in this dark and dusty club, having had far too many drinks and steering clear of the crowd he didn’t know - chatting you up had been a pleasant surprise to be sure. It seemed innocent enough, small laughs and playful touches here and there - your smile was captivating and had him yearning to see it all the more in the dim lighting as time passed and you seemed to edge all the more closer. You smelled amazing, the sound of your voice more intoxicating than the liquor he’d drank, and now with prolonged eye contact here and there a small fire started to brew in his lower stomach that you were completely responsible for. As the mass of people grew your suggestion of a back room that was a bit quieter seemed like a great idea, and Jimin stayed close to your side while you lead the way through the sea of bodies that he couldn’t have navigated if he tried.
A back room turned out to be more like a closet for all the space left over with too many chairs and boxes, no light switch was found when his palm coasted along the wall, chest bumping slightly into your back and as the door closed darkness was all Jimin could find - until you turned around. Back pressed to the wall due to not enough space, you came all the more closer, thankfully, easing his forehead rest against yours - the feel of your body pressing against his own causing his breath to hitch. Jimin swore he was breathing you in and time stood still, heart pounding against the cage he kept it in while hands slid over your arms, down to your hips to pull you all the more closer. Eyes adjusting to the black Jimin could make out your features with lids half mast, your lips so painstakingly close to his own full set - all it would take would be an inch, just a small motion forward to capture what he’d been staring at all night, and he did, a slow press being the first of what set the fire you’d started into a blazing inferno of heat in his abdomen.
One press, two press, three then four, Jimin soon nudged your lips apart with his upper tier, slowly trailing the tip of his tongue across your lower lip before dipping teasingly into your mouth to taste you for the first time. A low tenor breath escaped when he’d found you were by all rights delicious, and after a few moments of back and forth, push and pulls of small licks and nips Jimin claimed your lips with his - the sound of wet skin and quiet moans of appreciation filling the space around them. Fingers gripping at the fabric of your shirt - a slow grind of his hips into yours just could not be helped while he kissed you with a building hunger, sucking softly on your tongue to swallow your taste in a greedy pull before releasing the muscle to dance along with his, electricity thick in the little to zero space between your frame and his own. No - this was by far the last thing from his mind as far expectations for the night was concerned, but it was so so much better.
Trying to handout flyers while fans screamed and followed him around for the entire day wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d woke up this morning. For one - where was Namjoon and Hoseok to help him out with this? They were the ones that had begged the elder to do some kind of underground show. It’s not that he didn’t want to, he loved the thought of being able to perform like this again to perhaps a different audience, maybe this would give him the chance to break out of character a bit and not have to worry so much about the consequences and to just have fun. He was still pissed off about having to hand those flyers out alone. It gets to the point where he gives up and decides to hand them over to the owner of a bakery to hand out - who had absolutely no idea who he was. If he’d have been in a better mood, he probably would have joked about it or at least made some effort to not seem irritated.
Now, Yoongi isn’t a big drinker but he’d never pass on a free one - or one to celebrate even. He doesn’t remember how many drinks he’d knocked back but he’s just thankful that his performance was over and he had the day off tomorrow. His head is spinning and he feels hot, but that was expected in room filled with others that were dancing to whatever beat the dj gave them. Something that doesn’t help is your presence, he’d recalled your face from earlier and their conversation over drinks started out quite innocent. It had been filled with sweet compliments, questions and discussions over different topics - laughter that was followed by soft smiles. He thinks it must’ve been their fifth or sixth drink that had egged on the awful flirting and made the once innocent touched become more heated and almost needy. It started with resting a hand against your thigh, only to move it further up as their conversation progressed. That’s what he remembers.
What he doesn’t remember is actually moving from the bar into the room they were in now. This one being ten times smaller and cramped than the last. The lack of space didn’t really bother him in this moment, the most important thing right now was having his body pressed up against yours, trailing the palms of his hands up your arms before hooking his arms around your neck. If you were to ask anyone, they could confirm that Yoongi was never like this, he had his moments but he often showed affection rather privately or in other ways - it’s probably his alcohol intake, but in a way he likes to think it was just you that managed to bring out this side. The alcohol was definitely not the reason why his skin was burning, or why his gaze was hooded over and most likely filled with need and lust. It was you, you were the one that made the first move and coaxed him into perhaps the softest kiss he’d ever received.
But you were also the one that held him close and caused him to part his lips as a soft moan elicited from his lips, darting his tongue out against your own while his fingers curl against your shirt, tugging at the thin material. Their kisses are starting to get a little sloppy but he doesn’t really care, he’s more focused on rutting his hips against yours and giving playful nips and licks to your plump lips. God, he’s probably going to get into so much shit tomorrow morning but right now he doesn’t want to think about that, right now his main focus is you.
