Chance Encounters (M)
Pairing: Jimin x Wheein of MAMAMOO IM GONNA BE THAT ONE BLOG HUH
Summary: Wheein can’t even go out in a simple disguise without attracting the attention of others. Whether it’s the attention she wants, however, she has to decide that for herself.
Genre: smut, nothing else
Warnings: oral, dom x sub action if you squint, fuckboy! Jimin is a threat to us all
Word Count: 3.8k
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy! I’m sorry if it took long. I’m slower than molasses.
It wasn’t everyday that a foreigner walked into a popular bar in the center of Busan, accompanied by nothing but the sorrows of her daily life. With her bright, ginger tresses, numerous freckles, simple but enticing, black bodycon dress, and fresh Ray-Ban sunglasses, she stood out from the sweaty clubgoers around her.
And of course, this outlandish appearance brought the Westerner attention from many Korean drunks, but after hearing her fluent, sassy Jeolla accent, drunk men did an about face and went on with their lives, hoping to score with someone a little less resilient.
She didn’t know whether it was the sickening smell of alcohol lingering on the breath of clubgoers around her, or the epilepsy-inducing lights of the club flashing before her, but no one had yet to see past her disguise and identify her as Jung Wheein, lead vocal and main dancer of MAMAMOO, not as a random ginger, freckled woman from the opposing hemisphere.
Who could blame them? With her adorable dimples and shy demeanor on stage, none of the MOOMOO’s in Korea and around the world would expect to find her alone in a bustling nightclub, downing drinks as if her life depended on it. To everyone else, the ground she walked on bloomed with flowers after each step she took; she was literally sunshine.
“Another one, please,” Wheein pleaded, pushing her glass for the bartender to take. “You’ll call a cab once I get out of control, right?”
The middle-aged man nodded wordlessly, turning around to prepare her another drink. He was way too accustomed to this shit.
“Scratch that request,” a man emerged from the crowd on the dance floor, taking his place at the seat to the left of her. He smiled in response to her look of disgust, a crooked tooth the only imperfection in his other perfect smile. “Two mixed soju drinks, whatever flavor.”
“He means just one,” Wheein corrected the strange man, giving him a scan up-and-down before turning back to the bartender. “I’d still very much so like another glass of somaek, however.”
“You’re not a fan of soju?”
“It’s not that at all; I love soju,” Wheein remarked. “I just don’t accept drinks from men I don’t know. For all I know, you could’ve paid the bartender to put something in there way before I got here.”
The man winced at her remark.
“F-Fair enough,” he cursed silently once hearing his own hesitation, causing her to smirk. She, Jung Wheein, scared someone? Well, damn; she might as well take on this alter ego more often. “I like an independent woman.”
Her eyes rolled into the crevices of her brain at his flirty comment, but of course, he nor anyone could see past her expensive shades. Plus, could this man see, too? He had shades that could probably match the price of her own, hiding his expression from those around him. With a simple white V-neck, spotless black slacks, and shining dress shoes, she could rightfully assume that he was pretty good-looking, or at least well-off.
The bartender placed the man’s mixed drink against the wooden bar table with a soft thud, giving him as little as a nod before turning to prepare Wheein’s simple yet powerful drink. The newcomer then brought the glass to his lips for a quick taste, but not before asking Wheein an important question.
“Well, anyway, more importantly, why is it that a woman who obviously isn’t from this country have a flawless understanding of the language?” The “foreigner” stiffened momentarily, but the man obviously didn’t pick up on it. He continued with his interrogation, only taking his attention off her momentarily to pay for his mixed drink . “Because if you were familiar with this area, I’m positive that I would’ve remembered your fiery-red hair around here.”
Um...
Wheein had to fight against the urge to twiddle her thumbs in her lap — where was her fidget spinner when she needed it? — in her mind, she had only come up with a name, birthday, and hometown for this cheap disguise before heading out from her hotel room.
“When I was a foreign exchange student here in Korea, I stayed in Gwanju with my host family,” Wheein explained, surprising herself with the confidence in her voice. “While learning proper Korean, I simply picked up the accent of the region there. Is that too hard to believe?”
“Not at all,” the man replied smoothly, running his hands through his hair in a rather — what was it — familiar way? “Well, what brings you here to Busan? There’s not much here...”
“What are you talking about? There’s everything here,” she sighed, cradling her face in her palm. To her, Busan was almost like an unreachable dream. “It’s not too noisy like Seoul, but it’s not too quiet, either.”
“If you say so,” he sing-songed, bringing his drink to his lips once more. As he pulled the drink back to set it on the table before them (but not before licking his own lips), Wheein couldn’t help but to study the shape of his lips. They weren’t too large, yet they weren’t too small, either; it was as God had given him the perfect balance for something so simple but so important. She just wanted to lean forward and graze over them with the pads of her fingers, before closing the space between them to seal his lips with hers. Before she knew it, Wheein found herself taking an irresponsible swig from her glass in an attempt to fight off these strong emotions. “I guess it’s because I’ve lived her almost all my life.”
“Hmm...maybe...”
The man then leaned back in his chair and turned his head to her, saying nothing for a few moments. It was if he was doing his best to break down the disguise and try to find the real her.
“Enough with the small talk, though.” He ran his hand through his hair again, rising from his chair and reaching out with one hand for her to hopefully take. “It’s lonely dancing alone. Wanna join me?”
Wheein chuckled at his boldness. “It definitely can’t be lonely on that dance floor with hundreds of—”
Her ears perked up as an incredibly familiar voice vibrated against her eardrums. Hwasa’s “My Heart,” well, “My Heart” with probably four hundred times more bass suddenly poured from the nightclub’s sound system. It took all her willpower to not cheer aloud in support for her best, best friend.
MAMAMOO? Wheein blinked numerous times behind her Ray-Ban’s, genuinely confused by this DJ’s sudden change in music. In adult nightclubs, and not cheesy karaoke rooms for once? Wow, we really made it...
The upbeat atmosphere of the club finally slowed down, taking on a more sensual and laidback persona.
And so did she.
“Sure, why not?” Wheein placed her hand in his outstretched one, allowing him to pull her to her feet. It was time to let loose and have a little fun, she reasoned.
Staring at only the stranger’s back as he lead her through the throng of dancers, Wheein finally noticed the alcohol’s effects on her mind, body, and soul. Her face warmed up, her judgement waned, and her self-confidence shot through the roof of the small club, heading towards infinity and beyond. Despite the mixture of beer and soju running through her system, she felt invincible.
Deeming the center of the dance floor suitable for the two of them, the man spun her gently in an attempt to pin himself against her from behind, but Wheein decided to start their dancing off strong. Reaching deep inside herself, she easily found this newfound self-confidence and reached for her dance partner’s shoulders, pulling him against her so they were face-to-face, chest-to- chest, and hips-to-hips. Her partner was obviously surprised by this forwardness in her, but only momentarily, for he started moving against her, getting lost in her secret best friend’s solo song. And astonishingly, his motions were rather fluid— was he a backup dancer of some sort?
Songs came and left, but Wheein and the mystery man’s chemistry remained. At this point, he had turned her around to feel himself against her backside. Amidst the heat of the sensual dancers around her, the temperature between kept rising and rising, Reaching back, she pushed his neck forwards and leaned back against his muscular chest, hoping to get as much contact with him as humanly possible.
“Damn, baby,” he husked against her neck, his voice aching with desire. “With those hips moving against me like that, I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold back...”
“Then don’t.” Lost in the heat of the alcohol flooding her system, Wheein found herself swirling her rear into his front even further, but his strong hands stilled her hips, stifling her grinding. She turned her head back too him, a little horny and a little annoyed. A deadly combination. “W-Why’d you stop me?”
He said nothing in response, dipping down to whisper in her ear.
“Are you ready to leave yet?”
Wheein had never moved faster in high heels her whole life.
After a short ride in a taxi and a desperate, heated make-out session and handjob in the back seats, Wheein allowed the man to pull her into an empty apartment, one that obviously hadn’t been occupied in presumably weeks. Kicking off her heels at the door, she had little time to ask about his personal life — hell, she still didn’t even know his name — , however, because before she knew it, the man had Wheein in his arms, carrying her to his bedroom. As soon as he stepped foot into the room, he dropped her onto the bed, catching her completely off-guard.
She had to admit; the aggressiveness of her mystery lover was rather arousing. But the force of the sudden action was too much for her disguise. Her ginger wig went flying to the ground beside her, and so did her glasses, revealing Jung Wheein of MAMAMOO, well, with multiple faux freckles splattered across her face.
The mystery man’s face fell; whether it was from disgust or shock, she wasn’t entirely sure.
As the disguise left her, the independence and confidence of her alter ego vanished along with it, allowing the shy, puppy-like features of her true self to finally emerge. Her hands flew up to her mouth in surprise, as if she herself was surprised by her sudden transformation.
She couldn’t help the words that suddenly spilled from her mouth; like mentioned before, independence and confidence were replaced with apprehension and uncertainty. Millions of scenarios played in her head; at the very least, her career could be ended by this malfunction.
“Whatever you do, p-please don’t say anything to the press—”
An involuntarily gasp cut her pleas short as the man swiftly peeled off his expensive shades, before setting them rather calmly on the nightstand.
The so-called mysterious man before her disappeared, revealing the lead dancer, lead vocalist, and arguably, in her eyes, the hottest member of BTS, Park Jimin.
Could this situation get any more fucked up?
Wheein, out of habit, curled into herself as Jimin approached her on the king-sized bed, sitting beside her.
“So, it looks like we both have pretty big secrets...” he began, his voice fading away as he finally focused on the features of her face, which had been so stealthily hidden this entire night.
His thumb swiped across her left cheek, wiping the “freckles” from her face. He bit his lip, as if in thought on what to do next. But to her, it was a little too obvious, considering they were both in a bed, swimming in intoxication and lust.
“And, this getting out would undoubtedly be harmful for both of us, so let’s just keep this little secret between us, hm? Because I don’t have any intentions on cutting it short just here...”
As the last words left his plump lips, his eyes trailed down to stare at her glossed lips. It was a silent request, no, with the desperation in his eyes, a plea to continue.
He dipped his head down, inching closer and closer, until their lips met for the second time that night. This time, the kiss was much more intimate, considering that both individuals finally knew the true identities of one another.
“Take this off,” she whined, breaking the kiss sliding her hands down his shoulders to tug at the soft fabric of his shirt. She bunched up the material and looked him in the eyes, her eyes pleading. “Please.”
Nipping at the sensitive skin of her neck, he pulled back to chuckle at her eagerness. “Okay, wait a minute.”
Jimin moved his hands from her face to reach for the hem of his shirt, slowly — she practically keened at him to pick up the pace — pulling it upwards and revealing those abs and biceps that she had only seen meters and meters away from stage. He tossed the article of clothing to the floor before reaching for Wheein again, kissing her with even more ferocity than before. The female idol’s hands latched onto the man’s body this time, feeling as much of Jimin’s lean muscles under her fingertips as possible. He moaned at her sensual caresses.
“Turn around,” he demanded, bringing his hands to her slim waist to maneuver her before she could even do it herself. No long after, Wheein felt rough hands drag along her back, undoing the zipper of her tight bodycon dress in record time. She felt more vulnerable that ever under his presence, drinking in the exposed skin inch-by-inch with his hungry eyes. Unluckily, or luckily for Jimin, she had taken the risk to wear neither a bra or panties on this wild night, deeming the dress too constricting on its own.
Before the tight dress could even make a pat against the ground, Jimin was already placing his weight on hers, a breath of the word “fuck” the only thing coming from his lips. Wheein fell back against the pillows from the sudden force, snaking her arms around his neck to pull him in closer.
Tweaking at her sensitive nipples, Jimin was far too impatient to spend too much time on foreplay, or at least focus on the parts of Wheein’s body he deemed most important. His hands slid down the center of her body, purposely avoiding her wet heat to massage her firm thighs. Finally listening to her pathetic whines, he cupped her mound before teasing one, sly finger against her slit, running the finger up and down the area to collect some of the liquid onto his hand.
“You’re so wet for me, Wheein-ah,” he groaned as pushed one finger into her tight entrance, imagining that same pressure around the erection pressing against the fabric of his slacks. A whimper to match his groan erupted from Wheein’s pretty lips. “I hope you weren’t dripping onto the floor in that nightclub, or did you get this wet jerking me off in the back of that cab and stopping before I came, even though I told you not to?”
“J-Jimin, I—” Wheein’s words caught in her throat as she felt Jimin’s thumb against her pulsing clit, and her head pressed into the pillows, while her hips pressed unconsciously against his skilled hand. “More—”
“More? More what? More fingers?” Jimin pressed another finger into her heat, twisting them inside her experimentally. “Or do you want my tongue on you?”
She nodded furiously at his final question.
“Use your words, baby,” he whispered, focusing on her clit. “I know you can.”
God, she’d seen that tongue on his stage; it had a mind of its almost. Wheein, like any other fangirl, wanted that tongue against their womanhood at least once in their lifetime. It was impossible for any sane fan of BTS to not have thoughts like these at least periodically.
“Please eat me out, use your tongue, please— ah!”
The male idol’s head dipped down to give her lower lips an experimental lick with his tongue, causing a surprised cry to leave her.
Oh, God. Is he good at everything? Wheein could only wonder as her mind drifted into cloud nine.
Arching off the mattress, both of Wheein’s hands moved to pull on his colored locks, pressing his face into her pussy even further. Jimin responded eagerly to her gestures, pushing his mouth against her with more ferocity. He groaned at her musky, natural taste, collecting the liquid in her opening with his skilled tongue.
“I could eat you out for days,” Jimin commented aloud, causing even more moisture to spill from her tight hole, and onto the white bedsheets and his beautiful face.
The vibrations of his animalistic noises spread to her sensitive nub, and her moans evolved into keens and whimpers.
At this point, Wheein was only a simple slave to Jimin’s ministrations. It was almost comical, how hours ago Wheein had so successfully guarded the fence she built around her, but Jimin — oh, sorry, the so-called mystery man — had chipped away at the fortifications slowly, until she finally had her legs spread in front of him, allowing him to do anything that came to his perverted mind.
Catching on to her change in reactions, Jimin’s mouth traveled up to her clitoris, messing with the twitching bundle of nerves there. Not wanted to leave her tight entrance unattended, he pushed two fingers inside of her, forming a two-fingered gun with his hand while bringing his lips around her clit to give it a hard suck.
“Shit!” Never had so many curse words fell from Wheein’s mouth, well, at least not around a guy, considering this guy before her was extremely handsome. Her stomach muscles clenched above him, signaling her approaching orgasm. She was so, so close, she could almost taste it. And it hasn’t even been that long! Wheein’s eyes scrunched close, as she felt herself falling into the abyss of pleasure —
But something must have caught her midway, for the pleasure was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Wheein’s eyes reopened quickly to find Jimin fiddling in his pocket to pull out a condom, placing the corner of the wrapper between his teeth before reaching back down to undo his belt. Using her arms as leverage, she leaned up, giving him an incredulous look.
Reading her expression, Jimin quipped, with the condom still in his mouth, “I may be a nice man, but do you really think I’d let you cum after what you pulled in the back of that cab?”
Wheein’s bottom lip jutted out; he was right. Yet, she wasn’t pouting anymore when Jimin finally slipped off her boxer briefs, allowing his raging erection to meet her ravenous eyes.
In a few blinks of her eyes, Jimin had Wheein’s thighs wrapped snugly around his hips, as he grinded his rubber-sheathed tip against her teasingly. Feeling his hard-on against her, it was obvious he wanted this just as much as her, but Jimin’s ego obviously wouldn’t be completely satisfied, of course, without seeing her squirm a little. Each swivel of his hips had her pussy clenching around nothing, anticipating the good events that were to come.
“I want you to watch every inch of me as you take me in, okay, baby?” Jimin leaned down to place a chaste kiss against her lips, the only innocent gesture amidst all this madness. She nodded at his words, consenting to absolutely anything if it was to get him inside of her faster. He pressed his length against her sopping entrance, and within seconds, he was gliding inside of her.
Jimin let out an aggressive, uncharacteristic groan as he felt the female idol’s tight walls suck around the head of his member, so much that he had to pause himself to prevent himself from completely losing it. Fuck, it had been so long that he had forgotten how it really felt to be inside a woman, his right hand becoming his best friend in the midst of his hectic schedule.
“Fuck, fuck, Jimin...” Wheein’s thighs quaked and quivered in pure bliss, so much that Jimin had to remove his hand from between them and hold them in place.
“God, Wheein-ah, I can barely move inside you,” he observed, his voice straining from the tremendous pressure around his dick. It was just too much for him to handle; his hands tightened around her soft thighs, the stress of his grip probably enough to leave fresh bruises there in the morning. “How long has it been since someone fucked you good?”
“I-It’s been a good while...” Her jaw dropped slack with pleasure as she felt the man bottom out inside her, pausing momentarily to allow her body to adjust to this long-forgotten feeling, of feeling so satisfied and full. She needed him to wait, but only for a few seconds. “J-Jimin—”
He didn’t have to be told twice.
His hips drew back just as fast as they slammed back against her. Wheein’s mouth dropped into a perfect “o” shape, only cries and other unintelligible sounds able to slip from her mouth.
Jimin’s tongue darted from his mouth to lick his plump lips as he slid in and out of her skillfully, watching the part where their bodies connected and letting out grunts and breathy whines here and there.
She clawed onto the bedsheets and thrashed her head to the side. Noting her movements, Jimin’s hips slowed and finally came to a stop mid-stroke. Wheein rolled upwards to reach out to him, her manicured nails digging into his toned thighs. She held onto this overwhelming pleasure like a lifeline, something she considered the only thing in the world at the moment keeping her sane and alive.
“Please keep going,” she breathed, her voice quivering with want. “I need this.”
“No,” his tone was firm, “I want your eyes to stay on me, no matter how good I’m making you feel.”
Wheein’s nails dug into the bedsheets once again as she stared deep into her brown eyes, finally feeling his girth stretch her over and over again, with no interruptions. Bringing a leg to his shoulder, Jimin slammed into her at a new angle, one that undeniably reached her sweet spot. Because now Wheein was crying out at each thrust, gazing unseeingly into his eyes.
It was all over for Wheein; her mind disconnected with the pleasurable friction coming from inside of her, with the embarrassing squelches of her nether regions, with the feral noises erupting from the man above her, with reality— She was too far gone; she was approaching the cliff of sanity without any brakes, and she was bound to fall off into the abyss again at any given moment, without anything to catch her this time.
And that moment was now.
“I-I’m—”
A ear-piercing scream finally announced Wheein’s powerful orgasm. Jimin did his best to power her through this state of ecstasy, but his hips faltered in their movements, showing that he was close to exploding as well.
Jimin wasn’t too far behind her; the clenching of her walls around him proved far too much for him to handle. It wasn’t too long before he emptied himself into the condom surrounding his softening erection with a drawn-out moan, filling the rubber with drops of his warm seed. She continued to quiver around him, milking him for all he was worth.
After his final stroke, Jimin fell on top of her, breathing heavily into Wheein’s blotched neck. She could only smile down at the young man, running her fingers through the male’s hair for what could possibly be the final time.
Or was it?