Archive of Our Own ^beta

Word Count: 25.4K

EXPLICIT

Published: September 12th, 2024

oooh how i love sabrina so much

but geez i have never had so many song recs for one fic. I’d suggest listening to liar and swan lake when i mention them. but let me know how it goes i have zero clue how it all flows together loool! 

i had so much fun writing this fic and i hope you guys enjoy it <3

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Jimin isn’t so sure what to think at first, but he’s pretty sure he’s making direct eye contact with two bare butt cheeks out in his kitchen, shining against the morning sun gleaming through the tall windows. 

The pan sizzles as the stranger turns it left and right, the stench of bacon — Jimin hates bacon — filling the air as he flips it. His lips part as his eyes scan the counter to see various kitchen items cluttered across the surface. He turns his gaze back to the stranger, wearing nothing but Jimin’s favorite striped apron.

Then, he turns around with a smile. “Good — ” He freezes, eyes widening.

He has one hand on the pan, the other on the spatula as he blinks with an awkward and prolonged “uh,” inches away from Jimin. 

Jimin holds his shocked, offended gaze with the man before pursing his lips. He rests a hand on his hip, scanning him up and down as his other hand taps along his suitcase handle, biting his inner cheek. 

You’re not his type , he thinks. 

It’s the first thing that comes to his mind.

Jicheol likes his men cute and small — twinky — like Jimin.

But the man in front of him is big. 

Like — big. 

He’s tall, fit with muscles, and Jimin’s small apron hugs his slim figure, straining against his big chest. One of his ripped arms is covered in tattoos, hands adorned with silver rings. Jimin can’t see his abs, but he can see the toned anterior serrati by his underarms. 

The veins on his forearms pop as his hands grip the heavyweight pan, and it’s hot.

Really fucking hot. 

His face is handsome, but young and sweet, with a bar in his eyebrow and a ring on his bottom lip. He must be no older than twenty-five. His eyes are doe-like and chocolate brown, and there is a cute mole on the side of his nose bridge. His black hair is ill-groomed unlike his clean underarms, and he towers over Jimin like he could blow him away with one sexy breath —

No. Snap out of it. 

Jimin blinks his eyes and waits in that same pose, tapping his foot up and down as his lips forms a nasty scowl. 

He can’t believe it. 

Jicheol — that fucker — is cheating on him. 

On Park Jimin. 

He questioned the spare car outside, a black Mercedes-Benz GT63S, and just assumed Jicheol bought another car for fun. 

But now, it’s apparent that it belongs to this homewrecker —

That’s when the anger sets in, and his breathing grows heavy, fists clenching, fingers gripping the suitcase handle with a quiet growl from his chest. 

The stranger’s eyes flicker left and right as he takes two steps back to put the pan on the stove. He turns back to Jimin, clasping his hands together, and he raises them up, lips opening. When Jimin lifts his index finger and thumb in a pinch with a sharp “shh,” he purses his lips and his interlocked hands drop back to his side. He lifts up and down on his toes, fingers fiddling behind his back, tutting as he looks anywhere but Jimin’s death stare. 

Above them in the hall, the doors to the master bedroom throw open as Jicheol dances down the hall to the curved staircase. He’s singing some song, and his booming voice echoes through the high ceilings of the mansion, slippers clapping against the hardwood, then the tile as he approaches the kitchen. He’s wearing his navy robe, snapping his fingers, twirling along to one of his tunes —

— and heading right toward the fuming bull without realizing.

The unchanging absentmindedness sets another fire on Jimin’s head. 

“ ♪ Lisa, can you teach me Japanese? I said ‘hai’ — AH!" he screams, flinching a knee halfway up as he makes eye contact with Jimin.

Behind Jimin, the stranger covers his mouth with a little cough to cover up his laugh. 

Jimin ignores him. “Good morning, Jicheol ,” he hisses, voice oddly calm. 

Jicheol’s lips twitch into a smile, but it’s nervous. “Jimin! How was the Portland Rose Festival?”

“Did you see my text last night?” Jimin shifts his weight to his other foot, eyes growing a little crazed. 

Jicheol glances at Jungkook for a moment before clearing his throat. “Uh… Yes! Yes, I did?” His face squints. 

“Oh, you did? Great. I’m sure you knew that I upgraded to an earlier flight. That’s exactly why this — ” He raises a judgmental eyebrow at the man. “ — twunk — is cooking bacon in my apron? Naked ?”

The man chuckles, unaware of the chaos brewing. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I think you mean twink — ”

“I know what I said,” Jimin snaps. The vicious tone is enough to shut the man up, and he puts his arms up in defense. Jimin turns back to Jicheol, eyes glaring daggers through him.

Jicheol stammers, putting his hands up in attempt to ease his boyfriend. 

He knows what’s coming because it’s happened before about dirty dishes, smelly laundry, and other absurd habits, along with general stupidity. 

Only this is different. 

The storm is going to be a million times worse, and he’s trying to stop it. 

But it’s too late. 

“J-Jimin — Darling, please. I can expla — what the shit !.”

But Jicheol doesn’t get time to explain because Jimin has already thrown his suitcase over his head. He squeals and turns his body away as the suitcase bashes against his shoulder, and he cries out when Jimin’s phone is flying at him next.

“How could you do this to me?!” he screams, and in the next second, he rips off his maroon cardigan to throw it as well.

“Okay, Jimin, was it? Let’s all just take a breath and calm down. Then, we can talk about this,” the naked stranger butts in.

Jimin snaps his head to him with bared teeth, heaving like an animal gone feral.

His eyes trail down to the man’s chest once more, his apron hanging on for dear life as the hard muscle rises up and down with every steady breath.

Fuck.  

He’s Jimin’s type for sure, and part of him has to wonder who took it up the ass, even as his hunk of a boyfriend stands right behind him — though, he’s fearing for his life. 

It all just angers him even more. 

So, he sighs, pressing his face straight and relaxing his body. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his Summer Fridays lip balm in cherry. Then, he walks past Jicheol, who is still hunched up against the wall, eyes trailing, and past the stranger who is frozen in place. 

He delicately leans over the counter to the knife holder and sets his hand on the hilt of his big knife before pulling it out with a metallic scrape. The stranger gulps, and Jicheol shrinks against the wall again as Jimin uncaps his lip balm. He uses the reflection in the knife to touch up his lips, puckering them to make sure everything looks good. 

His mugshot is about to be the prettiest one ever .

Then, he turns to the naked man and lifts the knife over his head, charging him with a scream.

The stranger’s eyes widen, and he lets out a terrified “Holy fuck!” before sprinting into the great hall of the mansion. Jimin is close on his tail, seeing nothing but red red red as the man leaps over the couch to run through the left entrance of the dining room. Jimin takes the right side as he runs along the other end of the table.

He chases the man around the table, stabbing the knife into the polished wooden table to swiftly change directions when the man smoothly spins the other way as if he’s done this a hundred times before. 

Jimin wouldn’t be shocked if this is a regular occurrence — if he’s a professional cheat.  

Why the fuck is our dining table so big? It’s literally just the two of us here. 

The man continues changing directions before he stills and Jimin mimics, the knife tight in his hands. He waits on the other side of the table, teasingly flinching left, and right to keep Jimin guessing, all with a playful smile on his face.

Jimin growls. “You think this is fucking funny ?”

The stranger shrugs with a pout. “It’s amusing.” 

That’s when Jimin leaps over the table, sending pre-set wine glasses and plates clattering on the ground. With shockingly fast reflexes, the man grabs the hem of the maroon table runner and tugs it out of place before tossing it right into Jimin’s face with a triumphed “aha!” Jimin screams in frustration, blindly swinging the knife to no avail as the stranger loops it around his head like a ribbon. 

Jimin hears the seams of the apron snap as the man’s thick chest muscles flex, and he just about loses it for the third time that morning. 

He hears the left entrance to the dining room lock shut as he rips the table runner off his face. The stranger is already sprinting towards the right door, the apron floating to the ground like a feather, but he’s so fast that Jimin barely sees his ass crack before it’s gone in a blink. 

The last thing Jimin sees is his heel fleeing the room before the door slams and locks shut.

────

On the other side, Jicheol has his back up against the large double doors, looking at Jungkook with wide eyes as they bang furiously against his aching shoulders.

Jimin really did a number with the suitcase.  

He inhales sharply, cringing as Jimin screams, not any words in particular, just a maniacal scream.

“You better get out of here. These doors won’t hold him much longer. Trust me — I know…” he grumbles, struggling to keep his bare feet planted against the marble floors. “It’s only a matter of time before he either goes for the other side or breaks these down. It all — really dep ends — ” he grunts out as the doors tremble with the shake of Jimin’s anger.

“H-he’s not going to kill you, right?” Jungkook asks, hands covering his dick because this is the absolute worse moment to be naked.

Jicheol cocks his head with a nervous hum. “He’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to kill me.” Then, he looks Jungkook in the eye. “But he might actually kill you.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “Wait, really?”

Jicheol shrugs, tilting a hand side to side. “Fifty-fifty. I’d say you have one minute.”

Before Jungkook can think or say anything more, there’s a loud crack. Like a horror movie, the knife slices through the doors, and Jungkook swears he can hear the psychotic violin screech from Psycho (1960) shriek in his head. The blade barely misses Jicheol’s head as he yelps and ducks down, paint and splinters sprinkling into his hair as the knife slices another hole. 

“Oh, shit !” Jungkook screams, scrambling towards the kitchen. 

He skids to a stop at the bar where he conveniently left his keys, phone, and wallet after last night’s wine, leaving everything else behind. He throws the front door open with a gasp of relief, just as the dining hall doors crash open with a monstrous roar.

This is crazy, this is crazy, this is CRAZY —

Without looking back, he slams the door behind him and books it down the driveway of the gated estate, butt-naked. 

 ──── 

Jimin knew that little fucker called the police the second he was off the property to report what had happened. They showed up just as Jicheol had gotten the knife away from Jimin and kicked it under a couch. Since Jicheol didn’t have any injuries and told them that there was no knife, Jimin was simply fined (which Jicheol helped pay) and put on probation. 

Obviously, Jicheol didn’t press additional charges and managed to get the six-month probation down to three with additional conditions. Jimin isn’t allowed to drink alcohol and has to meet his probation officer twice a week, along with anger management classes, which is honestly the worst punishment of it all because it is so fucking boring .

And everyone thinks that Jimin just went crazy, including the PO who has no clue what Jicheol did. But he can’t say anything and ruin Jicheol’s reputation as “Korea’s most esteemed businessman.” He’s already spending millions to keep Jimin a secret, and millions more to keep the incident quiet. 

Jimin wonders how much he paid the twunk. 

For the two weeks that followed the incident, he stayed in one of Jicheol’s rental apartments in Gangnam, about a thirty-minute drive from the mansion. He kept to himself by keeping off-duty tabs on his rose store, Blossom’s Boutique, through his manager. The roses are always the best in late March and mid-April, and he just can’t wait to see them again.

It’s his life’s work — and it was a hard journey. 

His father split when he was ten, and his sweet mother spent so many years working hard so that Jimin could live somewhat of a normal life. After working his ass off to get his major in environmental science and a minor in botany, he spent five years building his shop until he was planning bouquets for weddings, parties, even funerals. 

So many people doubted him and told him that growing and selling flowers wouldn’t work. 

He spent so many stressful, sleepless nights learning — applying . On top of that, his self-esteem was destroyed by the public eye, criticizing his femininity rather than his work. His mental health was in the dump until he met Jicheol at a sponsorship party. He was in a deep debt for years until he finally paid it off last year, and now his profit is quite high. He doesn’t use Jicheol’s money the way people think and refused to let him help with the debt. 

Jimin never wants to be in debt to people. 

He’s self-made. 

And he’ll never let anyone tell him otherwise. 

But he will never deny the benefits that come with Jicheol’s money: endless gifts, the mansion, and fancy vacations now and then, although it has been a while. 

During the probation meetings, Jimin's mind is always elsewhere, mostly on the moment he caught Jicheol with that smug bastard. He can’t deny the rush of satisfaction when the suitcase collided with Jicheol's back, followed by the tip of the kitchen knife grazing his stupid robe. 

He was more angry than sad about the whole situation. 

On the third week, Jicheol texted him to fix things, and a bitter scowl tugged at Jimin's lips.

But he answered anyway, and Jicheol ordered him an Uber to the estate in Pyeongchang-dong and “suprised” him with a fat bouquet of China roses, along with a slender 18K bracelet with a classy J engraved into a charm. 

J for Jicheol or Jimin? He didn’t ask.

The next day, they were back together.

Despite everything, Jicheol is the only love Jimin has ever known. He can provide for Jimin, take care of him in ways no one else ever could, even if he was two decades older. And maybe that was why Jimin fell back into his arms, despite the history — for the affection and touch of an older, mature man to help him cope with his lack of a father figure. 

He’s happy with this life, even if it can be a little dull while running the household with little to no physical pleasure. It’s not like Jicheol is small or anything — Jimin appreciates his body, strong, not because he gyms regularly, but because he’s a real man. He appreciates his soft belly and his happy trail, fit with attractive gray wisps and all. He even appreciates his five-inch length because it’s enough. 

It’s just… Sometimes Jimin wonders if he knows how to actually use it . He always has a hard time finding Jimin’s prostate and an even harder time sticking to it. 

Still. He loves Jicheol. That’s all that matters. Even if he stopped taking Jimin on dates and cuddling him at night. It just means that they’re getting closer. 

Besides, he was his first love. How could he not?

He’s peacefully drinking herbal and fruit tea in a hot bubble bath, fixed with red rose petals while Jicheol is out on a work trip for the weekend. Music plays on his speaker as he reads the original Dracula by Bram Stoker with lit candles on the rim of the tub. The foamy soap, scented with jasmine, tickles at his skin.

When he finally finishes the chapter, he steps out of the water and pats himself dry before putting on a pair of his black silk PJs. He slides on a cute lace thong that cups his groin so perfectly, just for the sake of it, and combs his hair. Then, his phone buzzes, and he checks it to see a private message request on his Twitter. 

Must be another commission, he thinks. 

He opens it and furrows his eyebrows when he sees the long paragraph from an unknown user, bunny_l0ver97. 

bunny_l0ver97:

hi, there. i’m not so sure i’m the person you want to be talking to, but i thought i’d reach out and explain things. i searched up your name and found your photo and twitter on your website. beautiful flowers, by the way. but i owe you an apology for what happened. truly. i had no idea that jicheol was in a relationship, and i never would have participated if i did. i’m not asking for forgiveness, but i am just writing to let you know that i am reflecting on everything to do better. please, take care

— jjk (you know who) 

Jimin starts seething.

He doesn’t even apologize for calling the cops, and Jimin’s not believing any of this utter bullshit.  

Without thinking of anything else but the smug fucking tone, he goes onto his public Twitter account for his rose boutique and types out a nasty Tweet to his 13.1K followers, making sure to tag the other account. He knows it’s petty, but he doesn’t care because this jjk guy deserves it. 

@roses_for_mnnie: Wow. Spare me your rancid “i’m reflecting” bullshit, @bunny_l0ver97. First, you come onto my s/o, and then you have the /audacity/ to message me just to clear your own conscience? Are you stupid enough to think a half-assed apology online is going to fix anything? At least say it to my fucking face. Or better yet, reflect harder, fuck off, and learn to stay in your own lane and mind your own fucking business, bitch — xoxo, pjm

A smile tugs on Jimin’s lips, and he sends the tweet out with a whoosh . 

He never once directly responds to the asshole and hums in satisfaction, skipping to his room to use his dildo to celebrate.

──── 

The next morning, Jimin wakes up in his bed with a delicate stretch, naked as his dildo lies on the bed beside him. The diamond chandelier glitters in place, reflecting the morning sun beaming through the windows. He slumps against the pillow with a sigh and checks Twitter first thing, pleasantly delighted to see that bunny_l0ver97’s account is no longer active. His notifications are full of mentions, praising him for putting his foot down and trashing the other party for being so “disgusting” and “dirty.”

He tuts. 

That little bastard did what he wanted and then decided to ditch the consequences.  

Coward. 

He skips to the bathroom and freshens up before washing his dildo and putting his thong back on with a little shimmy. He looks down at his nails as he slides on the bracelet Jicehol bought him, naturally grown and shining with gloss, a testament to his hard work to break his nail-biting habits. 

He turns on the Bluetooth speaker system that running through the house and hits Liar by Camila Cabello. The raunchy, saxophone blasts through the high ceilings, followed by her sharp, entrancing voice. 

Jimin sings along as he tiptoes and twizzles to his closet. He smoothly sways his arms beside him, gliding along the dark floral carpets as he throws on his maroon silk robe. He ties it around his waist in a bow, and the fabric lifts just above the curve of his ass like a pretty skirt.

His hands cross over his chest as he sways his hips when the pre-chorus begins, taking long, graceful steps, one in front of the other as his eyebrows furrow and rise, eyes shut. 

“ ♪ I said, I won't lose control, I don't want it ~ I said, I won't get too close, but I can't stop it ~ ♪ ” He slides into the kitchen and pauses with the beat. “Oh, no, there you go, making me a liar, got me beggin’ you for more ~ ♪ ” 

The cool air brushes against his ass, hanging out under the short fabric as he moves about the kitchen to prepare a bowl of cereal. “Oh, no, there I go, startin' up a fire ~ oh, no, no ~ ♪ ” 

He pulls out cornflakes, chia seeds, honey, frozen berries, and milk, closing the fridge with an elegant kick. 

“ ♪  I picture your hands on me ~ I think I wanna’ let it happen. But what if, you kiss me? And what if, I like it? And no one sees it? ♪  ” He hits the high notes with perfect precision, hands waiting on the cabinet handles.

He throws it open and grabs a bowl, clinking it against the counter as he begins to assemble his breakfast, booty bouncing with his hips as his shoulders sway, the next chorus slipping through his lips. 

“♪ I don't believe myself when I say ~ That I don't need you, oh ~ I don't believe myself when I say ~ So, don't believe me! ♪ ” 

When the last chorus hits, the doorbell rings, and Jimin glances over his shoulder. He makes a careless attempt to tug his robe down his butt, continuing to lightly dance to the saxophone solo as it finishes. He pauses the music on his phone before swinging the door open.

He pauses when his eyes are hit with a chest. Then, he looks up and gasps when he sees the familiar face of the naked man from last month. Only he’s not naked, and his hair is neatly parted through the side, showing off small gold hoops on his pierced ears. 

And he looks good. 

Jimin curses Jicheol for not putting up a gate.

An awkward smile spreads across his face, hands in the pockets of his parka as his big chest strains over a thin white t-shirt. “You’re Jimin, right?” he asks, sounding just as friendly as he looks (not very).

Jimin leans on his heels, jutting a hip out. “Who’s asking?”

He doesn’t bother trying to cover himself up anymore — he knows he looks hot.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna’ take a wild fucking guess that it’s me. Look, can we talk?” He tilts his head to his side, a bored expression on his face. 

“I don’t even know your fucking name.”

“It’s Jungkook.”

Jimin thinks, narrowing his eyes. 

Does he really want to talk to this — Jungkook ?

No. Not in a million years.

But he imagines that Jungkook is here to either apologize or beg for forgiveness because he just feels so fucking bad . His guilt and humiliation must be eating away at him, especially after what happened last night while Jimin was fast asleep.

Jimin has to see this.

So, he steps aside with a smile.

Jungkook dismissively raises his eyebrows, stepping into the mansion and bending down to take his shoes off.

Jimin stops him with a gentle hand on his arm. “You can keep your shoes on. We won’t be long, I’m sure.”

He pauses for a moment then cocks a brow, but he obeys and follows Jimin towards a small sitting area under the curved staircase. Because he has zero respect for this asshole, he scrolls through his phone for a minute and plays Swan Lake Op. 20 by Tchaikovsky. He settles himself on the red velvet couch by the fireplace, wiggling his butt for effect before crossing his legs and placing his hands on his knee, one over the other. 

Jungkook’s tongue presses into his cheek as he sits down across from Jimin, hands on his thighs, and it’s annoyingly hot. 

“Now, what did you want to talk about?” he asks innocently.

He waits with a proud, cocky smile as Jungkook sighs and rubs his neck. “I just… I wanted to let you know — ”He thinks, shaking his head with pursed lips. “I definitely left quite an impression in your bed, huh? Does five foot ten sound about right?” His unsure tone is gone, replaced with a condescending leer. 

Jimin’s face drops. “What?”

Jungkook scoffs with a cocky smirk as he looks at Jimin’s bare legs up and down, lingering on the curve where his round hips begin, accentuated by the silk.  “Are you looking for a round two? You shouldn’t be exposing yourself like this. I thought you were supposed to be the pure homemaker.”

Then, Jimin realizes that he’s here to taunt him, and he gasps, offended as the first crescendo hits above them

“How dare you! I’ll have you know that I run a very popular rose shop! I am a businessman !”

“Mhm. I noticed. Now, tell me, doesn’t Jicheol love it when you deepthroat him and tug on his hairy balls as he pushes in further? He cums down your throat in seconds when you swallow around him a few times, right?” 

Jimin’s jaw is agape because Jungkook — is right.

Jicheol does love deepthroating, and he does have a very short stamina, though, Jimin doesn’t like to talk about it…

“You asshole — ”

Jungkook gasps, covering his mouth with his tatted hand and Jimin thinks he’s going to spit an insult back when he continues as if Jimin didn’t say anything. “Or am I mixing you up with someone else?” He puts on a confused expression with a pout, scratching his head before he shrugs. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. He’s probably had a lot of lips around his dick. Though he pays us all very well.” 

“You still took the fucking money?!”

Jungkook shrugs. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I? It was a hefty offer.”

Offer? 

Jimin growls, blood boiling as he stands to attack because Jungkook doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Jicheol isn’t a pathological cheater . 

Jungkook is just projecting his own fucked up habits. 

Jungkook puts a finger up. “Uh uh uh ~ “ he sings. “Probation. Remember?” 

Fuck. He knows.

The blonde grumbles and sits back down, blowing a strand of hair off his reddening face as he crosses his arms. 

“You have no clue what you’re talking about.” Jimin rolls his eyes, trying not to stare too hard at Jungkook’s bottom lip and the silver lip ring as he grins. “Besides, Jicheol has taste. Clearly, he just spat you back out.”

“Maybe. But he had a taste of me, didn’t he,” he states. 

He chuckles, manspreading, and Jimin glances down at his thighs, so firm and thick, and he wants to bounce on them. 

Fuck. Stop it.

“I’m not here to fight for that man. You can have him if you like. Just know that you’ll taste me too…” he whispers, leaning on his elbows. 

Jimin tilts his head down, narrowing his eyes. 

Above him, Swan Lake builds.

“Can you repeat that?” 

Jungkook sits back with a shrug. “You just have to taste me when he’s kissing you.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said. Now, let me offer this as a rebuttal.” 

Before Jungkook knows it, a priceless antique vase is being hurled at his head. Jimin’s battle cry rings in the air as Jungkook ducks down with a gasp, the vase landing on the ground behind the couch. He looks at Jimin with wide eyes as he stands up, fingers tense by his sides like claws as he heaves. Swan Lake is on the last chorus now, trumpets and strings booming through the air.  

“ Fuck probation!” he screeches with the rumble of music. “I did one month easy ! I’ll gladly do a year if it means shutting you up !” For some reason, he throws a cushion next, and it hits Jungkook in the head with a pathetic thump . 

He grunts, head lashing back, and Jimin turns to the mantel to grab Jicheol’s handmade ship in a bottle, launching it at Jungkook’s face. It misses, just as he leaps over the back of the couch, dashing for the door as he hops over the broken vase.

His hand is on the handle, about to turn and pull when Jimin sends another item flying. It’s a frame this time, and it shatters on the wall above his head, raining glass down on his perfect fucking hair . 

“You’re fucking unhinged!” Jungkook screams over his shoulder, letting out an adrenaline-filled holler as he sprints down the driveway. 

He fiddles with his keys to unlock his car, and just as he opens the door, he looks up the driveway. His eyes widen when Jimin stomps towards him, barefoot, with a tall brass lamp in his hands. 

“If you ever come back here, I’ll shoot you and tell the cops you broke in!” he screams, and Jungkook truly believes him. 

He yelps, fearing more for his car insurance as he speeds away with a screech, cutting over the flat lawn to skid onto the street and disappear down the hill. 

Jimin waits for a moment, heaving, before they turn into joyous laughs as he drops the lamp to the ground.  

────

Eunbi’s monotone voice goes in one ear and right out the other. 

She gives Jimin the same bullshit script, and he answers with little interest because he’s too busy thinking about Jungkook. He visited Saturday morning, and now it’s Sunday evening — Jimin has had more than a day to come to terms with his opinions on the homewrecker.  

His stupid smirk. 

His stupid hair. 

His stupid fucking pecs that can’t even fit his own fucking t-shirt . 

"Got it?" the officer's voice breaks his daydream. 

Jimin looks her way. “I’m sorry, what?”

Sorry, lady. I have no idea what you just said.

She purses his lips and pushes her glasses back up her nose bridge. “Keep going to your classes. I think they’re helping plenty,” she says. 

While she shows no emotion, she only says these things when she means them.

Pfft. If only you knew.

Jimin blinks and nods, offering a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Good.” She closes her book and stands, screeching the chair back. “I will see you in two weeks,” she says, straightening her skirt suit.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Jimin opens the front door for her, and just as she steps onto the porch in her heels, Jicheol turns the corner with his suitcase in one hand and a small gift bag in the other. He freezes when he sees her, and Jimin makes a pained “get the fuck inside” expression.

Jicheol chuckles nervously and tugs his suitcase past her, tripping as he stumbles into the home and Jimin moves aside with a quick smile, closing the door behind him. 

Eunbi looks at him over her glasses with a subtle sneer, before shaking her head. 

She heads towards her car without another word, and Jimin waits at the porch to wave her off as she disappears into the night, crickets singing and owls bellowing. His head falls back with a sigh, and he goes back inside to see Jicheol waiting for him at the kitchen bar.

“I told you she was coming at eight!” he yells, flicking his head. 

Jicheol just blinks the dizziness away, giving Jimin a small laugh before sliding the gift back across the counter. “I got you something.”

The anger dissipates the second he pulls out a shiny perfume bottle, and Jimin’s eyes brighten when he picks it up. Then, he gets a whiff, and it’s a familiar-smelling cologne, but it isn’t Jicheol’s scent. 

Huh? 

He puts on a smile. “Oh! Cologne! Heh heh…”

But I don’t like cologne…  his mind whispers, hurt.

Jimin isn’t an ungrateful brat.

It isn’t the item — but it’s not the thought either because — clearly — there is no thought. Jimin doesn’t even wear cologne. He loves the sweet, tangy scent of floral and fruit perfumes and body mists . Even though he adores smelling cologne on other men, it has always been too musky to wear himself. 

Jicheol should know this by now. 

It’s been three years.

His chest tightens, but he tries to push it away because it’s Jicheol , the love of his life.

He’s overthinking it. 

He awkwardly smiles and sprays some on him just for courtesy. “But I wear perfume, Jicheol.”

Where the fuck have I smelt this before?

Jicheol scratches his head. “Really? But you mentioned enjoying this one to me, no?”

Jicheol thinks for another moment, and while he does, Jimin realizes that this scent is familiar because it’s Jungkook’s cologne.

His hands tremble, and he wants to throw it on the ground. 

But instead, he smiles, and thanks Jicheol, who waves a hand before rolling his suitcase towards the stairs. “Oh, and Minnie, I think the dryer is done!” he calls over his shoulder. 

Jimin stands there, clutching the cologne with a sigh before he heads towards the quiet laundry room. He hauls the load of clothes — which are mostly Jicheol’s — to a spare room where he sits on the carpet to start folding. His arms are tired, and his head hurts, and he just wants to cuddle up against Jicheol and go to bed. 

When he’s halfway through, he comes across a pair of black boxers with a white waistband. 

It’s not his. 

Jicheol doesn’t wear Calvin Klein. He wears Mack Weldon. And this pair is too big for Jimin — hell it’s probably too big for Jicheol . He checks the waistband to see JK scribbled over the size marking.

Oh, I give up.

He groans, tossing the underwear over his shoulder before standing up. He really needs to make Jicheol do his own laundry. It’s the least he can do with all the other housework Jimin does on top of running the boutique five days a week. 

It’s exhausting.

The underwear was huge though… And it sends a not-so-good spark through his tummy. 

He really loves big guys…

It’s one of the reasons he was so attracted to Jicheol when they first met. But he hasn’t felt like that in a long time, full of appreciation rather than attraction. He hasn’t had someone who can make him feel the way he wants, needs . 

Someone who makes him feel so small and can easily hold him down — fuck. 

He dives into his bed and screams into the pillow. 

────

Jungkook mumbles to himself as he follows the coordinates on his GPS. When it tells him that he’s here, he parks and pays the fee before hopping onto the curb to look up at the store his friend recommended.

It’s small but flashy, and it screams ‘popular.’ 

There isn’t a banner showcasing the name, and instead, there’s a big, ivy-tangled neon sign in the shape of a rose, glittering with golden lights. 

He walks in and a little bell above him jiggles as he looks around. It’s cute and quaint, with pots and pots of various roses and flowers sitting on shelves. There’s a string of vines growing through the lights in the ceiling, sprouting little flowers. The counter is made of glass, and underneath it are various collections of seeds. 

An employee jogs in from the back and grins to his eyes, clapping his hands together. “Welcome to Blossom’s Boutique! My name is Seojun. How may I assist you, sir?”

Jungkook is still so stunned by the ceiling that the name flies over his head. He looks at the employee with a friendly smile. “Hi! Yes, I am looking for some flowers for my mother. She’s turning sixty next week.”

Seojun turns to the shelf behind him and pulls out a little booklet. “Here, we have the best roses in the city. I’m sure we’ll find the perfect ones. We have a few packages for mothers and a few for birthdays that you can order and get in five to seven days. Would you like to take a look at them?”

“I would love to.”

Jungkook pays close attention as Seojun shows him a variety of packages that let him choose a few flowers and the form of presentation. He keeps his fingers on his chin, eyebrows furrowed as Seojun helps him narrow down his choices to the Mega Birthday Bundle or the Mother’s Rosey Love package. Even though the boutique is known best for high quality roses, his eyes stray to the vibrant orchids and tulips. 

Though he doesn’t understand them, the high prices don’t scare him. He was told that some of the healthiest, most colorful flowers come from this place. 

He just wants to get the best for his mother.

“So… For Mega Birthday Bundle, I get to pick the flowers,” he confirms.

“Yes. But you are only limited to orchidaceae.” Seojun points to the orchid flowers by the window. With the Mother’s Rosey Love package, you can select three colors of roses, excluding Night Sea. You’d have to order those separately.”

Jungkook wouldn’t mind spending extra for a blue rose, even if they’re not really blue.

“Mhm. Do you have any recommendations? Or any idea what each color may symbolize?”

Seojun thinks for a moment before shaking his head. “Unfortunately not. I’m just the seller. I can bring in my boss, though! He’s very familiar with flowers of all kinds. He grows them himself.”

Jungkook claps a hand against the paper. “That would be great.”

Seojun quickly turns the corner, and Jungkook’s eyes dance across the cute boutique. His head turns when Seojun returns, another pair of footsteps behind him.

Jungkook smiles until his eyes land on the owner. Then, his face drops. 

“You’ve got to be fucking — ” he grumbles under his breath, turning away. 

Jimin grins as he takes Seojun’s place, hands leaning on the counter. “Hello. How may I help you?” he asks.

“I thought you were situated in Gangnam.”

“Clearly, someone doesn’t read Twitter properly.”

“Why would I? It’s full of idiots.”

“I’m sure you’d know. If you read it, you’d know that the main garden is in Gangnam. The flowers sell here,” Jimin says, tapping the counter with his long, shiny nails. “Now, how can I help you?” His voice is peppy, fake, and it makes Jungkook’s head throb.

He sighs, avoiding eye contact. “I’d like to buy flowers,” he murmurs. 

Jimin raises his eyebrows and turns his ear to Jungkook. “Wh-what was that?” He stutters on purpose.

Oh, fucking hell.

“I’d like to buy flowersss !” Jungkook emphasizes, eyes going wide with exasperation. 

A smirk crosses Jimin’s face, and he licks his lips as he turns to Seojun. 

His plump lips. 

Jungkook’s gears stop turning. 

Lips. 

“Seojun, please go check the inventory for me. I think Black Dahlias will suit our customer perfectly. Since they represent betrayal and all…” he mumbles the last bit.

Seojun stands still for a moment, blinking before flashing a quick smile and heading to the back.

When the door to what Jungkook assumes is a greenhouse shuts, Jimin turns to Jungkook with narrowed eyes. “Alright, what the hell do you want? If Seojun wasn’t here, I’d throw you out on the spot.”

Jungkook stutters, ignoring the crude comment. “I didn’t wanna’ be rude to the kid, but how the fuck can one bouquet be four hundred thousand won?” 

“Because my roses are the best in this fucking country.”

Jungkook scoffs. “Really? I thought Seojun said in this city ,” he mocks. “Besides, they’re just flowers. How amazing can they be?” 

He throws his hands up when Jimin refuses to answer, pushing his bottom lip out in an angry pout as he pushes a sassy hip out, arms crossed, foot tapping up and down. 

Lips, lips, lips. 

And his hips — his posture just screams babygirl .

So small and curvy. He’d fit right into the crook of my arm. 

Jungkook’s head is spinning a thousand rotations per minute. 

Jimin tilts his head forward, raising his eyebrows in warning. “Do you really want to fight me on this?”

Jungkook comes back to reality and grumbles, waving his hand in the air. “Fine. I’ll just take the Mother’s Rosey Love package.” 

Jimin sneers at him before smiling, gently closing the flower book to pull it to his chest. “Sorry, but I’m afraid we don’t do business with your kind.” 

Oh, he’s so infuriating that Jungkook thinks his forehead pops a vein.

He furrows his brows, eyes widening. “What, the gays? What kind of flower shop doesn’t do business with the fucking gays?” 

Jimin gasps, an offended hand on his chest before he smiles. “No, we accept and support people of all genders and sexualities! We don't do business with cheating manwhores ,” he hisses, leaning over the counter to emphasize as his sweet face turns sour on the last word. 

Jungkook clenches his jaw, staring Jimin dead in the eyes. “Really?” he grits out.

“Get out,” Jimin spits. 

Without another word, Jungkook waves his hand over his shoulder, muttering “Gladly” as he storms out of the store.

When he’s in his car, he blasts his music as he speeds down the street to get as far as humanly possible from that little devil from hell.

Fuck his cocky ass. Fuck him and those goddamn lips. 

────

That night, Jimin is enjoying his bougie-fied instant chicken ramen, fit with a soft-boiled egg, bamboo shoots, and scallops when Seojun sends him a photo with multiple crying emojis just as the bowl is emptied.

His blood boils when he opens it, and Jicheol’s noisy voice screaming for dinner from the second floor only makes it worse. 

He reads the screenshot of a recent review posted on the shop website, and after the cockroaches, the “fake flowers” comment is what gets him to scream back at Jicheol. 

I am disgusted. Just disgusted. While the singular employee working there was a good kid, the owner was just an absolute asshole. He was extremely rude and refused to sell to me because of my appearance. On top of that, there are cockroaches all over the place! No clue how they haven’t been shut down yet. I found cockroach eggs in my Black Dahlia’s, which were organized so poorly! You’re better off buying fake flowers. If I could, I’d give them a 0. But I can’t. So I give them a 1. 

1/10, would not recommend.  

— @rose_k1ller97

────   

Whenever Jimin is fixated on someone, however much he loves or hates them, he tends to stalk their Instagram, a secret window into their life. 

Jungkook is no different.

Jimin is obsessed , and he isn’t even afraid to admit it.

He can’t stop thinking about caving Jungkook’s hot fucking face in — it’s driving him mad. 

It doesn’t take him long to find Jungkook’s Instagram it’s impossible to miss — because he is popular , a rising A-list model with a growing fan base. 

jeon_jkgguk97 . 

The latest post about two days ago is a photo of him leaning against a wall in an unbuttoned black shirt, with the caption saying “Thanks to Calvin Klein for signing me as a brand ambassador for this year’s spring collection :) ”

“He’s a model…?” Jimin whispers under his breath, scrolling through Jungkook’s page. 

He’s twenty-six and has over forty thousand followers, and hundreds of posts ranging from lifestyle snapshots, professional shoots, and… Underwear photoshoots. His toned body is on display in several posts, defined but not overly muscular, lean in the way Jimin likes. From the close-up shots of his perfect face, he can see a small mole right under Jungkook’s lip, and it’s just so endearing . Boxing videos show him sweaty, hair tousled, with that frustratingly perfect smile, and every grunt he lets out feels tantalizing. 

The pinned post grabs his attention: Jungkook spread on his knees, wearing only Calvin Klein boxers, his arms crossed as he leans back. It’s a collaboration post with CK, and it has nearly five hundred thousand likes. 

Jimin swallows, blinking at the huge bulge that’s outlined in the tight fabric as heat rushes to his cheeks. 

It’s the same make of boxer he left behind, and Jimin wonders whether that’s the very pair lying on the floor in the guest bedroom.

Jimin tries to tell himself that he isn’t model-worthy. That he isn’t so — hot .

But he scrolls faster, one photo after another until he’s slack-jawed. Shirtless pictures, close-ups of Jungkook’s intricate tattoos, piercings gleaming under studio lights.

Who am I kidding? 

And God , he’s so big .

Jicheol has a hard enough time lifting Jimin. Jungkook definitely wouldn’t have any issues carrying Jimin around like a princess, probably wouldn’t even flinch if he had to carry him across Seoul . 

He feels a little giddy at the thought and taps his nails against his phone case with a bratty “hmph.” Fifteen minutes pass, and he learns that Jungkook is also a damn good artist, and he admires the versatile paintings. He’s also a part-time tattoo artist and works at a shop in Hongdae district. Jimin checks the website and is appalled to see how expensive the tattoos are. Even a simple flower without any colors or shading is nearly a hundred thousand won.

How the fuck can a dingy tattoo be so expensive? 

Jungkook’s account is only following one hundred twenty-seven people, and he scrolls through them for fun. There is one account with a profile picture that looks like Jungkook’s broad back — Jimin is an expert now — and he reads the bio. 

It’s Jungkook’s personal account, and he sighs when he sees that it’s private. But there’s another tagged account in the bio, and Jimin clicks on it. 

phts_by_ggk . 

It’s a small photo account with a few hundred followers, and it’s covered in beautiful photos. Some are of flowers, and Jimin’s heart clenches. Others are of buildings and some are of pretty girls, and Jimin feels his neck prickle. 

There’s no way they’re all not into Jungkook. 

And that pisses him off in more ways than just one. 

His fingers scroll faster, and faster, and in just a sliver of a second, his thumb fails to scroll and taps on a year-old photo twice. 

Jimin lets out a horrified gasp, dropping the phone to the bed as his hands slap over his mouth. He waits for a moment, as if something is coming — as if it’s going to undo what he just did. 

No, no, no, no — I’m on my fucking personal account. This can’t be happening, why the fuck — 

He unlikes the photo as quickly as he can and blocks Jungkook, but there’s no way that it isn’t in his notification stream on his phone. He flops onto the bed, staring up into the ceiling with wide eyes as he turns his phone off in punishment.

But he must get so many every day. There’s no way he’ll notice. Yeah. The last photo he posted was a year ago. He probably doesn’t even look at that account anymore. Yeah…

He swallows. 

Right? 

──── 

Jimin makes Jicheol take him out for coffee that evening.

It usually helps clear his mind, and today is no different.

There’s something peaceful about the aroma of coffee and pastries, the clink of cups, the murmur of people, and the click of computers. It’s a comfortable white noise, and it lets Jimin fall into a quiet headspace. 

Though, Jicheol doesn’t appreciate it. 

Not because he doesn’t like it, but because he doesn’t understand it. He’s never been the type to enjoy his coffee or his food, housing it all down in mere seconds until it bloats him like a balloon. 

He keeps his face covered with a mask, poking at his empty mug, whining to leave already, but Jimin ignores him, and takes his time. If he tries hard enough, Jicheol’s voice mixes with the others, and he stops hearing it.  

He sighs as he sips on his coffee, losing his mind in the background noise, and everything is so peaceful.

Then —

“Oh! Jicheol!” a colorful, candy, cursed voice comes out of nowhere. 

Jimin opens his eyes, setting the mug down as he looks up to his right. 

And there he is.

“Hello, Jungkook-ah,” Jicheol chirps, eyes glancing at Jimin for permission. Jimin doesn’t say anything. So Jicheol continues. “How are you?”

Jungkook laughs, deep and charming, ignoring Jimin as if Jicheol isn’t on a fucking date right now . “I’m doing good. And you? Wow, what a coincidence to see you here!” 

His voice is too happy, and it makes Jimin’s blood boil. “Coincidence?” he cocks a brow. 

Jungkook finally acknowledges him and shrugs with a smile. “Yeah! I didn’t — “ He leans down. ” — stalk your Instagram or anything.”

Jimin goes pink. 

Then, Jungkook steps closer to Jicheol, setting a hand on his shoulder, gripping it tight. “Anyways, how are you, Jicheol? I haven’t seen you since that night,” he says, winking.

Jicheol doesn’t even try to get his hand away. “Oh, I’m doing pretty good! Business is booming. What else can I say? Anyways, what are you doing here?” he asks, too friendly for Jimin’s liking.

There is not a thought in his head. 

Literally. 

“Oh, I work next door at the parlor. You know this,” he teases, poking at Jicheol’s arm. 

Jimin clenches his fists with a little growl, trying to compose himself, but all he wants to do his throw his hot coffee at Jungkook. Except, he doesn’t, and he takes a deep breath, gripping the mug tightly. Jicheol and Jungkook have a few more minutes of small talk, and Jimin looks as unbothered as he can.

Then, it gets too much when they break out into laughter, and Jimin just has to intervene.

“Just so you know, he prefers twinks,” he says benevolently, batting his lashes at Jungkook. 

Jungkook finally removes his hand from Jicheol’s shoulder, stepping back with a smirk. “Alright, I should get going. My break is over.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Did we take up all your time?” Jicheol asks. 

“No. Don’t even worry about that. I’m sorry if I intruded,” Jungkook mocks.

Bloody fucking fucker —

Jicheol chuckles. “I’m sure Jimin doesn’t mind. Right?” he asks, lightly tapping Jimin’s shoe under the table.

Jimin flashes a fake smile. “No. Why would I? It’s not like you cheated on me with him,” he says.

Jicheol’s eyes drop, and he looks away as Jungkook awkwardly laughs. “Bye, Jicheol. I’ll see you around.” He glances at Jimin, but Jimin doesn’t look his way. 

When he’s finally out the door, Jimin grumbles under his breath, and Jicheol stops nagging him to finish his drink.

Later that night, he screams at Jicheol until his throat is raw. 

────

Jimin pulls the door open to the tattoo parlor, a little bell ringing above his head. His ass stings the slightest bit from his Brazilian, and he slightly regrets having two painful appointments back to back. 

Yet, he refuses to cancel. 

He wants Jungkook to see just what Jicheol is actually into.  

It’s petty. 

So petty. 

But he truly doesn’t care. 

A girl sitting in a chair reading a magazine looks his way before standing up with a smile. Her hair is indigo with thick bangs resting over her eyes. She has piercings all over her face and thick gauges in her ears, body tatted up and down under her Y2K-style crop top.

“Are you here for an appointment?” she asks.

“Yes. I have one at four o’clock,” Jimin says. 

She takes Jimin’s appointment name and his ID before leading him to a private room. The walls are covered in tattoo designs and there’s a tattoo chair in the center with a little table and stool next to it. 

“Have a seat. Jungkook will be in shortly.”

“Thank you,” Jimin chirps as she shuts the door.

He stands in front of a full body mirror against the wall, looking his outfit up and down, wearing nothing but sweatpants, a red cotton thong and a white cropped t-shirt that hugs his frame just below his navel. 

Then, he wanders around the room, looking at all the versatile designs plastering the walls. Some are simple and cartoonish, while others are intricate and hyperrealistic.

Jimin is proud of his choice.

He doesn’t want it to be too extravagant or too simple, and it looks just perfect. 

Then, the door opens and Jungkook walks in with a smile before his face falls. “Oh my god.”

Jimin looks at the door frame and smiles at Jungkook, wearing jeans and a tight black compression shirt that looks so tasty . “Is that how you talk to your clients? It took me a week to get an appointment with you!”

Jungkook groans, facepalming. “Jesus Christ, you’re the one who wants the tramp stamp, aren’t you…” he mumbles.

Jimin skips over with a giggle to proudly stuff the design in his face. Jungkook grimaces with a squint and pushes the bright screen away before grabbing the phone, sneering at Jimin before looking at it with furrowed brows. 

His eyes widen ever so slightly. “What the actual fuck, Jimin.”

It’s Jicheol’s name in raunchy cursive, prettied up with a few stars and bright red outlines in the curve of each letter. 

Jimin smiles and tilts his head. “It’s pretty, right? Jicheol himself thought of it as he was fucking me doggy — ”

Lie. I made it myself. He’s always stuck in missionary. 

But before Jimin can continue, Jungkook slaps a hand over his mouth to shut him up and Jimin squeaks, holding his wrist with two hands. 

He sighs, shaking his head as he hands the phone back to Jimin. “Don’t — Swear to god…” he mutters.

Suddenly, all Jimin wants is for Jungkook to pry his mouth open and push his long fucking fingers between his lips to suck on them. Then, all he wants is for those fingers to touch him elsewhere, right to the knuckle. 

Imagine how nicely they would stroke against my —

His thoughts are cut off when Jungkook grumbles and walks to his desk. “Did you at attach it in your email?” Jungkook asks.

“Of course.” 

He opens his laptop and goes to his email to print out the stencil while Jimin patiently waits by the mirror. Then, he kicks off his shoes and tugs his sweatpants down to toss them on a chair, showing off the thin cotton thong hugging his body. Jungkook turns around with the stencil in his hands, holding it up before looking at Jimin. 

He pauses, eyes lingering down, and Jimin smirks.

“I hope you don’t mind. I just had my wax appointment, and I need to lose the pants if I’m going to be here for so long.”

Jungkook swallows, but he just shrugs, moving his gaze around the room. “Fine with me.”

Yes. 

Jimin smiles. “Good.”

He turns around to set his hands on the desk, keeping his feet together and arching his back. The thong covers his relatively small privates up, but he knows that Jungkook can probably see an outline if he’s looking from the front. From the back, the only view he gets is of Jimin’s well-trained ass. 

“Tramp stamp, right?” Jungkook confirms, walking towards Jimin.

“Yes, sir.” His voice is low, seductive, and he pushes his ass out when Jungkook is standing right behind him, wiggling it.

Suddenly, he gasps when Jungkook’s hands are on his bare hips, tugging him back to push a foot between his legs to spread them apart. He keeps one hand on Jimin’s hip as he sets the other on his shoulder to carefully bend him over until his cheek is pressing against the desk.

Jimin’s breath hitches and his heart pounds in his chest as Jungkook stands over him, so close that his jeans brush against the backs of his thighs and the curve of his ass. 

“I need you flat,” he mumbles. Jimin squirms, squeaking as he tries to adjust his body. He shivers when Jungkook slides his hand down his body to rest on his lower back, pressing his stomach flat onto the cold table. “This is where you want it, right?” he asks, rubbing his warm hand against Jimin’s skin.

His other hand is still on the curve of Jimin’s hip, and Jimin wants it to stay there forever.

He swallows and nods. 

Jungkook reaches over him to the shelf, and Jimin looks up through his hair to admire his sexy Adam’s apple. 

It’s impossible for anyone to look good from this angle. Yet, Jungkook does it perfectly.

His tattooed hand grabs two black gloves, snapping them on before ruffling through the various bottles of gels and creams. He grabs a green bottle with a thin nozzle before squirting a glob onto Jimin’s back. He flinches with a little gasp, and Jungkook presses down while he rubs his hands in soothing circles, massaging the gel into his skin with his fingers. It feels so good — and the mix of warm and cold pressure is delicious.

Jimin feels his belly tingle. 

“What’s that? ‘S cold…” he mumbles, squirming to try and ignore the heat on his cheeks when Jungkook adds another layer of gel.

“Primer. Need to dry your skin.” He holds up the paper in front of Jimin’s face. “Are you sure about this one?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

Jungkook hums. 

Then, Jimin hears a sticky peel, followed by the sensation of the stencil pressing against his back. Jungkook flattens it with two hands a few times, and Jimin nearly moans, his large hands framing his small body so perfectly.

His hands are so big… A single spank would make an entire cheek bloom pink.

He steps to the side to grab something, leaving only one hand firm against Jimin’s back. When he returns, his thick thighs are directly pressing against Jimin’s ass now before he sets his hands back down on the stencil, holding it firm on Jimin’s back.

“First tattoo?” 

Jimin hums. “Yeah.”

“Do you want numbing cream?” he asks.

“Already applied before my wax.”

“What an expert,” Jungkook grumbles back. 

Then, he slowly peels off the paper, keeping his other hand on Jimin’s hip. He tosses it onto the desk and stands there for a moment, waiting. He doesn’t move, and Jimin isn’t able to tell if he’s looking at the stencil or his ass, though he hopes it’s the latter. 

“All done?” he asks. 

That’s when Jungkook seems to realize that he’s still touching Jimin, and he pulls his hand away. 

But he doesn’t step back. 

He stays there, right behind Jimin, towering over him, staring down at his backside. Jimin can feel his thighs pressing along his ass, squishing it upwards. He flicks his blonde hair and looks over his shoulder. 

Jungkook is staring down at the stencil with a furrow between his brows, tonguing his cheek, his free hand leaning against the desk to cage Jimin in, pressing his thighs against his ass further. 

Jimin smirks. “Jealous?” 

It’s like some kind of electricity is pulsing between them, and Jimin doesn’t miss the hazy look in his dark eyes. 

It’s warming Jimin’s cheeks, making his heart race.

Jungkook doesn’t respond as he pulls away, and it answers Jimin’s question. “Take a look in the mirror.” He heads over to the tattoo chair and flattens it. 

Jimin stands straight and walks towards the mirror, turning around and smiling when he sees the stencil right where he wants it. He places a hand on his cheek for effect before looking at Jungkook through the mirror. “It’s perfect. Do you like it?”

“Just get on the bench.”

Jimin giggles and feels his ass jiggle as he perkily gets onto the bench to lay down, pointing his toes down and resting his face on his arms. He adjusts his ass with a sigh so that it’s nice and high. Next to him, Jungkook rolls the stool over, along with a tray of tools and ink. 

“You know he’s into bottoming, right?” Jungkook asks over the clinking. 

Jimin scoffs. “No, he’s not. He’d tell me. Are you sure you’re a top?” 

“Don’t lie to yourself, Princess. And yes, I fit the criteria.” 

Jimin remembers the Calvin Klein shoots and that big bulge —

“ Prin cess?” he gasps. 

“I have no clue why you ran back to him. I’m sure another much smarter hunk can give you the emotional availability and sex life you so clearly enjoy.” His voice is laced in sarcasm. 

The fuck does that mean? 

“Oh, what, like you ?” he snaps, ignoring the rest of Jungkook’s “ concerned ” comment. 

Jungkook pauses. “You really want an answer to that?” 

Jimin laughs. “No. You’re younger than me. And I have...” He glances over his shoulder to look Jungkook up and down. “Size standards.”

“Oh, how delightful. Get me a medal for that one.” The tattoo gun hums to life, and Jungkook scoots close. 

Jimin turns back to the mirror and leans on his arms. “No need. I don’t want to come up with new ways to celebrate mediocrity. Though, I’m sure you’d love a participation award!” 

Lie, lie, lie. He’d sweep the competition —

Jungkook pauses and looks at JImin with an amused expression. “ Ha !” he tuts, pulling the band of Jimin’s thong to let it snap against his hip. 

“Ow!” he hisses with a growl. 

He reaches back to scratch at Jungkook’s face and inflict some kind of damage. But the younger sets a firm hand between his shoulder blades, pushing him back down with a grunt. “Stay still,” he grumbles. “Wouldn’t wanna’ ruin your tattoo, now would we?”

Jimin feels his cold rings and shudders, and Jungkook chuckles, thumb rubbing teasing circles into his skin. 

He wants to deny it. He tries so hard to. 

But he feels so warm and fuzzy inside because of Jeon Jungkook.

And his big fucking arms, god damn .

Jungkook rests his hand on Jimin’s back, the other resting on the dimple near the start of his ass. “Ready?”

Jimin scoffs. “Of course.”

Then, the first prick hits his delicate skin. 

Jimin’s eyes blow open, and he yelps, jostling away from the pain. He scoots up the bench, turning onto his side to look at Jungkook with wide eyes, lips parted. 

He just laughs, grabbing Jimin’s ankle to pull him back into position, patting the back of his thigh. Jimin composes himself and growls, kicking his hand off. 

“Keep fucking going.”

Jungkook raises a brow, cocking his head with a smirk. 

“Don’t worry, Princess. You’ll get used to it.”

────

Jimin is mostly quiet, save for the sassy remark-slash-insult now and then. 

Jungkook checks on him whenever he gets too quiet, the numbing cream not seeming to be of much help, even though he gets used to it.

Halfway through, Jungkook has to ask him if he’s asleep because he’s so still and so quiet, barely reacting. He responds with a little hum, but it’s so dragged out that Jungkook decides to take a quick break and get him a juice box, then another. He drinks it with his eyes closed, fat lips sucking around the straw like a child with a pacifier before throwing the empty boxes at Jungkook, flopping back on his stomach. 

Before they had started, a brilliant idea popped in Jungkook’s head. 

It’s definitely risky, but it would be worth it, and if Jimin knows any better, he’ll stop messing with Jungkook after this. 

Though, he can’t deny that eyes unwillingly stray to Jimin’s body. Plump ass, firm thighs, slender waist, toned back, lean arms — he knows exactly which muscles to work. Jungkook watches his relaxed face in the mirror on the desk and just can’t stop thinking about his lips that resemble a cute beak from the angle he’s facing. 

His sharp jawline in contrast with his soft cheeks and those plump lips — the most striking androgynous beauty Jungkook has ever seen. He has no clue how a dipshit like Gong Jicheol landed such a specimen, and wonders why said specimen is settling for such low standards that it’s a tripping hazard. 

He almost feels bad about what he’s doing right now. 

But it’s fine.

After all, he isn’t going to charge Jimin out of the goodness of his heart anyway. He can cover it up with a good tattoo artist in the future. 

But for now, this is his mark. 

His victory.  

He turns the gun off and sets it down on the tray, wiping the last of the excess ink off Jimin’s skin, and he hisses through his teeth for the last time.

“Done?” he sings, the juice boxes having woken him up.

Shame. He’s quite beautiful when he’s docile. Jungkook imagines — hopes that he’s this docile in bed.    

Jungkook hums as he puts the second skin on. “All done. But just to be clear —  it’s t-w-i-n-k, right?” 

Jimin sighs into the leather. “Yeah — “ 

He pauses, eyes blowing open. 

Jungkook can’t help the giggles that leave his mouth when Jimin kicks him away and leaps up to run to the mirror. His eyes widen even more, lips parting open when he turns his body to see ‘twink’ tattooed across his swollen skin in the very font and style he wanted, even with the little stars and red accents. Everything is just a little thinner to make a cover-up relatively easy.

Jungkook isn’t that evil.

Jimin stares at himself for what feels like minutes, jaw agape as his mouth reaches up to clamp over it.

The artist continues to laugh, head thrown back as Jimin shoves on his sweats and rushes towards the door in what’s probably anger. What’s new?

“Don’t forget to wrap it!” 

Jungkook is completely blinded by his laughter as he walks out of the room, slapping his thigh. His manager walks out from his office, looking at Jungkook with furrowed eyebrows.

“What happened?” he asks, arms out. 

Jungkook shakes his head, pulling off his gloves. “I’m probably fired. But it was so fucking worth it.” 

Jimin was his last appointment of the day, so he skips out of the store, celebrating. 

──── 

Jimin frowns as he cooks his and Jicheol’s dinner at an embarrassingly sluggish pace. He’s trying to make a beef and vegetable stir-fry over rice and some kimchi on the side, but he doesn’t have the energy and it just feels impossible. 

It’s been a week since his appointment, and he’s been drained physically and emotionally ever since. The tattoo heals gut-wrenchingly slow, and he’s forced to look at it whenever he has to take care of it. 

He wants to cry every time he does. 

Yes, he is a proud twink and will forever be a proud twink. 

But he doesn’t want it fucking tattooed on him like a personality trait.

He’s so ashamed of it that he hasn’t dared to undress in front of Jicheol nor has he even told him, worried about what he might say. 

Jungkook’s words echo in his head.

You know he’s into bottoming, right?

I have no clue why you ran back to him. I’m sure another much smarter hunk can give you the emotional availability and sex life you so clearly enjoy.

He hates that he’s let Jungkook sink his poison-tipped claws, making him double question Jicheol’s love and affection for him.

But he’s starting to worry that Jungkook is right.

Jicheol’s been distant. He doesn’t come to bed very often anymore. Jimin doesn’t know where he’s sleeping. He’s always at work, and when he’s home, he’s locked in his office. And all he does is nag nag nag Jimin for chores like a child as if he’s nothing more than a maid.

And it hurts. 

It really hurts. 

He feels so… So abandoned. Has been for a while, but he’s finally accepting it. 

What if Jicheol isn’t into Jimin anymore? What if he’s gotten bored?

Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. He’s probably had a lot of lips around his dick. Though he pays us all very well.

Even worse, what if Jungkook is right about that? What if Jungkook isn’t the first nor the last?

The questions just make Jimin’s head spin because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get to know. 

They started the day of the appointment, and they’ve broken their way through Jimin’s shell, the shell he worked so hard to build. And they make him hate himself more and more every time he looks in the mirror, noticing imperfections that weren’t there a week ago. And before he knows it, his mind is filled with ugly labels that broke him to bits in the past, spoken by opinions that didn’t matter, yet stung no less.

Fat. Ugly. Short. Useless. Unlovable. 

It’s all coming back to him, gnawing with relentless cruelty. It gets worse by each lonely night, and he doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t feel safe confiding in Jicheol anymore.

He hasn’t looked in the mirror since.

He thought he had gotten past his insecurities, but it turns out he hasn’t. He's just buried them, and Jungkook has dug them up like forbidden treasure. 

Jungkook must have seen the devastated expression as he ran out the parlor, sobbing when he got to his car because he knew what would happen to him, how his brain would twist it with everything piling on. 

And yet, he had the audacity to laugh out loud, head thrown back, shoulders rising. 

But Jimin should have known better. 

If he had kept his fucking ego to himself — 

No. 

This Is Jungkook’s fault. 

If he wasn’t blowing a taken man —

Then, the smell of burnt food fills his nose and he snaps back to reality to sauté the vegetables and meat with a frustrated whimper. But one side is already charred black, and he knows Jicheol won’t eat it because he has the taste buds of a twelve-year-old.

He just throws the food away and eats two instant noodles packets with some milk. The carbs somewhat make him feel better, and he drags himself upstairs, keeping his face away from the mirror as he takes a sad shower and wears one of Jicheol’s shirts to bed.

He just hopes Jicheol won’t wake him up later to whine about food.

The tattoo is only a few days old, so Jimin isn’t supposed to sleep on his back, and he curls up on his side to scroll through the internet. 

Jicheol doesn’t come home that night, and Jimin is left waiting until the witching hour. 

He needs — mental peace. But no matter where he looks, it feels like it’s slipping further away from him.

He has searched for various tattoo parlors, but the good ones refuse to do touch-ups by another artist out of respect. The ones willing to do so have questionable reviews, ranging from lack of sanitation to poor health grades. 

He feels trapped, the taunting words seared into his skin, and there’s no undoing it. He can’t erase what happened, and he’s stuck, stewing in his pain. 

But where has that gotten him?

The tattoo is still there. The insecurities are still there. And his relationship with Jicheol is as bad as ever.

With a heavy heart, he realizes that maybe what he needs isn’t just a touch-up. 

It would definitely help — but maybe he needs to tie the knot and burn it to ashes.

The thought chews at him, irritating in its truth. Everything has just spiraled out of control, and now, he’s paying the price of his pride and ego. Peace isn’t going to come from covering up the tattoo. 

But maybe it’ll come from facing the one started it all. 

So, with an agenda in mind to head to Jungkook’s tattoo parlor, he turns his phone off and snuggles into his pillow.

────

The next day, he wakes up at half past eleven and rolls out of bed to get ready. 

He takes his time in the shower, scrubbing and exfoliating every inch of his body. When he gets out, he does his hair and even picks out an outfit that he likes.  

He takes care of himself. 

His fingers are kind to his body, and he files his nails down before reapplying a fresh layer of gloss, along with his rings. He clips on his favorite earrings and dabs some lip tint and gloss on his lips.

The thought of seeing Jungkook after such humiliation leaves his chest curling, nape burning. But he thinks back to Jungkook’s private message that night and remembers that he can be reasonable. If Jimin explains his side, then Jungkook has to understand.

He cleans up the counter, and then looks at himself in the mirror with a small smile. The concealer isn’t able to cover up the dark circles under his eyes nor the exhaustion, but he somewhat looks — nice.

And for the first time in a week, he sort of feels like himself.

A quiet “yes” flees his lips when he sees Jungkook walking along the sidewalk into the coffee shop next to the tattoo parlor. He’s wearing his black parka, and he has AirPods on, walking with his chin high. Jimin gulps, feeling incredibly lucky as he parks his car on the curb and rushes inside.

His eyes dart around, and his heart flutters when he sees Jungkook standing in front of the register amongst a sparse crowd. Jimin waits for him to finish, and he walks over to an open space to wait for his order. 

Jimin takes a deep breath and adjusts his sweater, then his hair before approaching Jungkook. He calls out Jungkook’s name, but the younger doesn’t respond, eyes glued to the barista counter. Then, Jimin remembers the AirPods and he taps on Jungkook’s shoulder.

He turns around with bright eyes, and for a moment Jimin thinks he’s extra lucky because Jungkook must be in a good mood. 

But then, his eyes meet Jimin’s and his face falls immediately, rolling his eyes to turn back to the counter. “Oh, have you moved onto in person stalking now?” 

Jimin frowns. “No. I was coming to the parlor. I just saw — ”

Jungkook doesn’t spare a glance at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t leave a nasty review with my name in bold. Like your tramp stamp?” he asks, a nasty smirk.

The elder glances away. “Um… Not exactly. I — ”

“So, you’re here to yell at me? Tsk.” He turns away from Jimin.

“No. I’m not, I promise. I’m here to — ”

“Large iced Americano with cream for Jay?” the barista at the counter calls, holding a tall plastic cup.

Jungkook heads over and grabs the cup before he’s walking towards the door. 

Where is he going?!

Jimin quickly steps in front of him, placing two hands on his chest with a pleading look in his eyes. “Wait. Wait for one — one minute, please. I promise, I won’t say anything bad,” he begs.

They’re standing in the middle of the café, but nobody is looking their way, and Jimin knows he’ll lose his shot the second Jungkook walks back to that parlor where his locked office is. He’ll be damned if he has to come back again, humiliated a second time.

Jungkook looks down at him with hooded eyes for a moment before leaning his head back with a sigh. “Alright. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry.” The words leave Jimin’s voice in a choked whisper. “I’m sorry for what I did to you. For calling you out online — ”

“For lying ,” Jungkook corrects, raising a brow.

Jimin ducks his head down with a nod, hands still on Jungkook’s chest. “Yeah. For lying. A-and I’m sorry that I didn’t sell you flowers — ”

“You called me a manwhore, remember?” he asks, cocking his head to one side.

Remember when you showed up at my house to rub my cheating partner in my face? 

“Yes. I do. And I’m sorry about that too. So, I’m here to ask for a truce. You fix my tattoo, delete your review on my shop, and don’t show your face to me again. After that, I’ll leave you alone too. You won’t hear from me ever again, I swear.” 

Jimin asks with a plea, eyes desperate, and it’s a genuine attempt. Jungkook must see that if he has any emotional intelligence, fingers gripping his shirt to keep him from walking away.

Jungkook thinks for a moment, eyes looking over Jimin’s face before his lips part. “You’re asking for way too much.” 

Jimin widens his eyes. 

There’s not an ounce of sympathy in Jungkook’s eyes.

“What about just the tattoo? There’s nobody else in the area who’s willing to do it! Please, I hate it so much .” His voice cracks, and he hates himself for it. “I can’t even look at myself on a good day. And — ”

He stops when Jungkook scoffs, tonguing his cheek. 

Jimin’s vulnerability comes off as sly to him. 

Why wouldn’t it? It’s not like Jimin has ever spoken a nice word to him.

He should have known better. 

“Oh, like you can’t look at me any longer? I hate to break it to you — But you’re a nobody in this city. I’ll never see you again by sheer fortune. But I’m a model, and I’m about to be the face of Calvin Klein. You’ll see my face everywhere , Princess.” He leans in, and this close, his eyes look dark, and intimidating. But Jimin stands his ground, refusing to be the one to break eye contact. Then, he smirks. “And, no. I'm not fixing your tattoo.”

Jimin starts to panic as he shakes his head. “No. Please, I’ve never begged anyone like this for anything!”

He pushed his luck. Maybe if he had just asked for the tattoo, Jungkook would have done it, and he would have been out of this hellhole —

People start turning heads, and Jimin’s heart sinks when Jungkook doesn’t look to be getting any more willing, but rather satisfied .

“Mhm. And that just might be the problem. You’ve always had everything handed to you, right?”

The words cut through Jimin’s chest in a way unimaginable. He’s worked so hard, even after Jicheol — 

“N-no. That’s not true…” he whispers. “That’s not what I mean. I really — ”

“Oh, please. You and I both know that you just want to have the last word. Am I right?”

Jimin is on the verge of tears, but Jungkook doesn’t notice. He probably wouldn’t care even if he did. “No, you — You’re not — ”

But Jungkook doesn’t give him time to continue and shushes Jimin with his index finger and thumb pinched in the air. Jimin obeys, snapping his lips zipped. It’s a gesture all too familiar and just as condescending as he remembers. 

Maybe on a normal day, he wouldn’t care this much. 

But today, it hurts. 

Then, Jungkook looks down at Jimin’s hands on his shirt. “Don’t touch me.”

Jimin is shaking and is about to start begging on his knees or cursing with his fists in public — he can’t tell — when Jungkook lifts his coffee cup over Jimin’s head. Before he can react, the cold drink splashes against his hair to run down his face and clothes, ruining all the hard work he put into himself today. 

A few people around let out hisses and whispers, and he feels the eyes of thousands, even if it’s nowhere near that many. His lip quivers as he retracts and looks down at his tattered clothes, freshly washed hair soaked over his eyes, and the tears pool on his lashes. 

“Embarrassed?” Jungkook taunts, raising his eyebrows. “Don’t come and try to be my friend just to clear your own conscience .” The words are again, familiar to Jimin, and another deep stab. “I can’t help that you’re unstable. Next time, I’m complaining to your PO.” He walks right past Jimin, wiping a drop of coffee off with his thumb. 

Jimin wipes his eyes and flicks the coffee off his fingers with a fearful gasp. “You can’t be serious?!” he shouts, practically a broken cry. 

Jungkook says nothing as he continues to walk towards the door, sipping his half-empty coffee. “Womp womp.”

Then, he’s gone. 

Jimin doesn’t have it in him to be angry anymore. 

He’s just sad. 

Tears mix with the coffee as he silently sits at a table with a sniffle to wipe himself with tissues. 

──── 

Jimin laughs when Jicheol’s hands lay him down on the carpet in front of the fireplace, kissing up and down his neck. 

“So beautiful…” he whispers, leaning down to hold Jimin’s thighs open.

“ ‘M yours. Only yours…” Jimin whispers with a soft smile.

Jicheol smiles, a smile Jimin hasn’t seen in forever. “I love you,” he replies before pressing his lips against Jimin’s cock.

Jimin’s eyes fall shut, and he arches his back against the floor, hands reaching down to grip onto Jicheol’s hair, making paintings with his skillful tongue. The pleasure shooting through Jimin is unlike anything he’s ever felt, and soon, he’s cumming right into Jicheol’s mouth with a mewl, begging for Jicheol to make him cum again.

He leans up, licking his lips before pressing them to Jimin’s, kissing him so gently, yet so intensely, radiating love and lust. His hands wrap around Jimin’s waist, right over his ‘Jicheol’ tattoo with a secure grip, as if he doesn’t want to let Jimin go. Ever.  

And Jimin kisses back, ecstatic as he wraps his arms around his lover’s neck to pull him closer, sliding his tongue into his mouth.

That’s when he feels a lip ring.

His eyes open, and he’s face-to-face with Jungkook’s haunting face, chocolate eyes black as night as he grins like the devil.

Jimin screams, falling back on the carpet for it to shatter like glass as he falls into pitch black water with thousands of eyes lurking below, slits for pupils. Above him, he sees Jungkook’s image through the water, screaming as he runs out of air, sinking closer and closer to the eyes.

He watches through the wavy water as Jungkook pulls the carpet back over the hole, leaving him in complete darkness as the eyes surround him like piercing knives. 

He is terrified, and he’s all alone.

He’s all alone. 

──── 

Jimin flinches awake with a gasp, setting a hand on his chest as he heaves, coughing to try and get rid of the drowning sensation that plagues his throat. 

He looks at the clock.

2:19 AM. 

Then, he curls his knees to his chest and sits there for a moment, staring into space. Moonlight beams in through the windows, but it’s dull and cold. The mansion is so huge and empty, and it makes him feel like he’s the only person in the world. 

He hates it.

It’s all too much. He can’t handle it. It’s just too much .

So much damage done in just a few days.

He tears up as he runs his fingers over the sabotaged tattoo, his darkest thoughts crawling from the corners of his mind, covered in cobwebs. 

He starts to cry and shiver when he realizes that Jicheol hasn’t given him a kiss in a long time, while Jimin has given him countless. 

He begins to sob when he realizes the bed is empty and that he doesn't have a clue where his boyfriend is, the abandonment filling his chest like sand.

Then, the hourglass shatters.  

Sleep doesn’t remove him from the world until 4 AM, and he hugs himself, covered in goosebumps as he leaves with tear tracks, dry eyes, and bitten nails. 

──── 

Jungkook grumbles into his pillow when a low buzz hums through his room. 

Are you fucking kidding me?

He turns onto his side and sits up with a sigh, his white sheets tangled and twisted around him. It takes him a moment to realize that the buzz is his phone against the nightstand, and he flips it over. 

A confused expression crosses his face when he reads the caller ID.

“Suji?” he asks, pressing the phone to his ear. “Is everything — ”

“Dae cheated on me!” she bursts out, followed by a choked sob.

Jungkook’s eyes widen. He sits against his headboard, kicking the covers off, ready to act. “What? Dae ?”

“I-I found another girl’s name on his ph-phone with nudes! He didn’t even try to deny it! That fucking bastard — ” 

“Okay, Suji. Let’s take a breath together. Okay? In and out. In — ” Jungkook inhales. “ — and out.” He exhales, guiding her through it.

Suji follows over the phone until her sobbing has reduced to little hiccups and shaky breaths, and she whimpers. “I just — I feel so alone . I didn’t know who else to call…” she whimpers, voice small. 

Jungkook frowns. 

He’s known Suji for nearly five years, and he’s never heard her so heartbroken before.

“Did you say anything to him?” he asks softly.

“I just… I just started screaming at him. But we were still in his apartment, so he made me leave…”

“He what ?” Jungkook sits up straighter, ready to jump into his car. “Where are you now?”

“ M home now. I just took an Uber.”

Jungkook sighs and leans back on his headboard. “You call me next time. When it’s this late — you call me . I’ll pick you up. It’s not safe to be taking Uber so late.” 

“I know, Jungkook-ah…” She doesn’t say anything more, trailing off. 

“How are you doing now?” Jungkook asks, trying to keep her talking.

For the next hour and a half, he listens as Suji vents her heart out, words laced with bitterness and overwhelming pain.

And all she can talk about is how angry she is and how horrible she feels. 

She uses words like useless. 

Ugly. 

Worthless. 

Angry.

Alone. 

Each word chips away at Jungkook’s heart, and as he listens, another face slips into his thoughts. 

Jimin.

Does he feel like this too? Because of me? 

By the time Suji’s sobs fade into soft snores, it's almost 4 AM. Jungkook quietly ends the call, sending her a quick text before setting his phone aside. He stays against his headboard for some time, just staring out the window at the moon as its light paints his room. 

He’s physically exhausted, but his mind won’t let him rest.

Jimin’s erratic behavior drifts into focus, and then, to how drained he looked in the coffee shop, even in the middle of the afternoon. 

His words play in his head. 

I can’t even look at myself on a good day.

But why? What did the Park Jimin have anything to be insecure about? 

He was perfect to Jungkook in every manner. Everything he’s ever wanted in another man and more. 

The thought of Jimin crying — all alone in an empty bed with nobody to console him makes Jungkook nauseous. 

When he finally rolls over in his bed, all he can think about is almond eyes and blonde hair. 

──── 

Jimin slouches against his desk, eyes hooded as he files his ragged nails smooth with little to no effort, gloss chipped and peeling. So many weeks of hard work to grow and maintain them, all gone in just one night. 

It’s been about three days since Jungkook humiliated him in public, and he’s managed to keep it together for the most part. He’s finally gone back to work, but Jungkook’s review has left a nasty mark on his reputation.

Nobody has bought flowers since that day. Not one commission when he’s used to getting two or three a day . 

He keeps his dull gaze on his nails, tossing it aside as he buries his face into his arms. 

I give up.

Seojun walks into his office with a weary expression, gripping the door frame. “Sunbaenim, is everything okay?”

“Fine…” Jimin whispers, closing his eyes. 

“Um… I thought I’d let you know that the review is gone. I honestly don’t know why we’ve been so slow.”

Jimin just shrugs. 

He doesn’t process Seojun’s words, doesn’t care too.

That night, he drives home in utter silence. 

He steps on the porch, fiddling with his keys, the tranquility of the space weighing heavier than usual. It’s only eight, an hour earlier than normal, but it feels much later than that. He’s hoping that Jicheol is home for once, and that maybe the familiarity of his warmth will offer some solace or a hint of peace — if it’s even possible anymore.

As he opens the door and takes off his shoes, the atmosphere feels off. 

Jicheol is home.

Jimin can tell by the faint glow of light leaking over the bedroom door just behind the balcony. 

“Jicheol?” he calls, making his way upstairs. 

No answer.

Maybe he’s already asleep, Jimin thinks.

But as he approaches the bedroom door, he begins to ear — muffled moans? Then, the fake-ish whines and moans of…

A woman.

His brows furrow, and his racing heart tells him one thing, but his spinning mind tells him another. 

He already knows.

As he walks down the hallway, fists clenching and unclenching, he feels like a ghost drifting through his own, cold home, hollow and disconnected. He’s right outside the door now, and the moans and slaps of skin are more apparent here. His breath catches in his throat as he sets a hand on the knob, twisting and pushing the door open. 

He turns the corner and freezes, heart clenching as a cold numbness sweeps through him, and he truly feels like a ghost.

The floor beneath him barely creaks, but it isn’t loud enough to overpower the roaring fireplace or Jicheol’s groans as he plows his hips against the ass of a woman. Her hair is curled and dyed ginger, and she’s on her knees and elbows with her calves hanging up in the air, bracketed by Jicheol’s thighs. He’s grunting, fucking her with a fever that he never showed Jimin as his balls slap wetly against her ass.

But her moans are loud, and wanton. 

They’re fake. 

Jimin knows fake moans all too well. 

But his hands grip her hips so tightly, and she lays in their bed like she belongs there. Her hair and hands fan out across Jimin’s pillow — the pillow Jimin sleeps with every night.   

He waits at the doorway, eyes wide, throat caught as he struggles to process the act in front of him. 

For a moment, he wonders if this is just some sickening nightmare, if maybe he’s still slouched over his desk, fallen into a deep sleep. But the sick — all too real feeling in his stomach tells him otherwise. 

Last time, he was angry. 

This time, he’s just sick .

“Turn around. Wanna’ see your face,” Jicheol orders, flipping her onto her back.

She squeals and opens her legs again with a grin. That’s when her eyes shift, and she notices Jimin standing there. She screams, throwing the sheets over her chest as Jicheol flinches and nearly falls off the bed. “Jicheol, you said he would be home at nine!” she screams, glaring in Jimin’s direction.

Her words are deliberately sharp, meant to cut him deep. And they do. Jimin knows instantly that Jicheol planned it out, calculated how much time they’d have if Jimin had come home at the usual time. 

Jicheol looks over his shoulder and screams, hands flying down to cover his groin as if Jimin hasn’t seen and sucked it before. The lady continues to glare at Jimin while Jicheol stutters, throwing on his boxers, but Jimin can only stare at the lady in shock. 

She glares at him as if he’s the one in the wrong here. As if he doesn’t belong here. As if he doesn’t sleep in that very bed. 

He feels his blood start to boil, and it kicks the nausea out. 

Without saying a word, he marches towards the bed and grabs the woman’s arm, yanking her out of the bed. She lets out a gasp, shock flashing across her face before it twists into anger. 

“Get the fuck out,” Jimin growls. 

His voice is low and dangerous, and he himself doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s tested any longer. “And you — ” he hisses, pointing at Jicheol who remains on the floor, hidden behind the mattress. “I trusted you. You cheated on me once already, and I trusted you! You just had to rub it in my face!” he screams. 

Jicheol’s eyes widen, and his hands start shaking as Jimin grabs a lamb. The woman scrambles to gather her clothes faster. “Jimin — ” he tries, but Jimin interrupts him.

Something inside him cracks. All the anger, all the hurt, all the resentment he’s been swallowing down for weeks rushes to the surface like a tidal wave crashing against the cheating asshole. 

“You could at least cheat properly?! What the fuck, Jicheol?! Getting my timing wrong twice?!” he screams, throwing the lamp against the wall for it to shatter. “Get out!” he shouts.

Jicheol’s eyes widen. “What?”

“GET OUT!” he roars, pointing to the door. 

He scrambles up, trying to reach for his robe on the floor when Jimin smacks him away. He doesn’t deserve the dignity of clothes. Whenever he goes tonight, he’s going to go naked. 

Jimin growls when the woman walks by him with a sly smile and a hum before grabbing her hair to throw her against the balcony railing by the stairs with a scream. 

“Do you think this is fucking funny? Are you laughing now?!” he shouts.

She cries out as Jimin begins throwing various objects at her, starting from her own bottle of lube to a pen on the nightstand, stumbling down the stairs as she ducks and dodges every item. Jicheol follows her down the stairs, trying to cover her from Jimin’s rampage.

He stares down at him with a mixture of disgust and heartbreak as he hops down the stairs, shouting angrily with a broken voice. 

This is it, he thinks. This is what we’ve come to.

He feels uneasy, and he isn’t sure how much longer his legs can hold him up. 

He can’t even bear to look at the older man anymore, the betrayal suffocating and crawling up his throat, squeezing his chest until he thinks he’s going to explode. He growls through his teeth, shaking his head as tears burn at the corners of his eyes. 

He won’t let them fall again. 

Not for this. 

Not for him . 

He lets the rage surge through him until he’s laughing, reaching for one of Jicheol’s antique plates on the shelf by the bottom of the stairs, hurling it towards the woman. A maniacal laugh leaves his lips as she cries out when it shatters on her head, pressing her clothes to her chest as Jicheol grabs his keys.

He throws open the door just as Jimin throws another antique plate for it to breaks by Jicheol’s feet, and he squeals as the ginger hops onto his back, telling him to run . 

 “STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!” Jimin screams, stepping onto the porch in the cold night.

Down the driveway, Jicheol doesn’t look back as he throws the woman into the passenger's seat before hopping inside, speeding away. The expensive car knicks the corner of the wall and the side mirror pops off to tumble into the darkness. 

Jimin waits there on the porch, fists clenches, heaving as his hair falls over his eyes, and he doesn’t bother brushing it back. 

His eyes burn with anger, frustration, and something more. It’s the hollow ache of disappointment that chips at him. He isn’t as angry as he is the first time.

Because this time, he’s not as surprised. 

Between all the anger, there’s only a quiet, simmering bitterness, resignation.

“Jimin,” a familiar voice calls.

His eyes widen, and he doesn’t dare turn. Not yet. Otherwise, he might go to prison for what he’ll do.  

So, he closes his eyes, muttering a prayer before he looks to his right against his better judgment.

And as if he’s a curse, Jeon Jungkook stands right by the first garage door, his car parked by the third. He’s wearing his stupid parka and his hair hangs over his eyebrows, blowing gently in the wind like a little leaf. 

Jimin was so focused on Jicheol and that whore that he didn’t even notice his presence. 

He wants to kick Jungkook and scream in his face, maybe make him bite the curb a few times. 

Instead, he turns around, covering his face with his hands as he takes deep breaths, reminding himself that he’s still on probation. But his hands are trembling, ready to throw a nasty punch if Jungkook sets a fucking foot on the porch. 

“I just… I saw what happened just now.” 

“Yeah. Hard to miss, right?” Jimin mutters, rubbing the heels of his palms into his forehead. “Show is over. You can leave now.”

“ I — I’m sorry about that, Jimin. I can’t imagine how it must feel,” he says, voice quiet as he looks down. 

Jimin wants to laugh in his face. “No. You can’t. The fuck do you want from me,” he spits, unwilling to show his face as he crosses his arms. 

Jungkook takes a breath. “I’m here to apologize.” 

Jimin begins to make his way towards the door, more of a stagger. 

He’s exhausted.

“I don’t…” he whispers, trailing off. 

I don’t understand.

“I already deleted the review and left a better one. If you still want,” he continues, placing a sincere hand on his chest. “ I’ll retouch the tattoo myself whenever you’re ready. We can — ” 

Then, Jimin scoffs and Jungkook stops talking. “How can you possibly feel sorry?!” 

Jungkook pauses, eyebrows turning down. “I didn’t — I didn’t realize how much you hated it. You just carried yourself as a twink so well — ”

Jimin just about loses it.

He lets out a screaming growl as his foot slams into a flower pot, sending it shattering across the stone floor. “No, this isn’t about the tattoo! It’s about him !” he shouts, pointing his finger in the direction Jicheol went. 

Jungkook puts his arms up in defense. “Jimin, I’m not here to start anything.”

“Then, leave ,” Jimin hisses. “Better yet, I’ll leave. You can stay here for when Jicheol comes back!”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow. “You know what, I’ve had enough of your bullshit. I don’t know how many times I have to say it, but I did not fuck him knowing you were together. I have told you that so — many — fucking — times !” he claps to emphasize each word.

The tension thickens, Jimin’s chest rising and falling rapidly, his fury bubbling beneath the surface once more. Jungkook’s eyes hold a challenge, but there’s something else there too — something pleading, as if he’s desperate for Jimin to just believe him.

“Then, why the did you come here that morning?!” 

“I just came to stir things up because of the way you behaved on Twitter!”

Jimin’s eyes widen before he scowls. “Oh my god, nobody even knew it was you , you dick !” 

“Yeah, but I got a docked and a bunch of fucking death threats from strangers, Jimin! Do you know what that does to a person? It scared the shit out of me! The internet is fucking scary !” 

Jimin lets out an amused laugh, shaking his head in disbelief as he turns to the door. “I can’t believe that you’re trying to spin this on me ! Not everything is about you !!” he shouts, stepping into the house. 

He tries to force it shut, but Jungkook pushes in with brute strength. 

“Hey, don’t walk away from this!” Jungkook yells, following Jimin inside to slam the door behind him.

“ Fuck you!” Jimin screams back, stomping up the stairs. 

He can still feel her presence in his house, the scent of her cheap perfume clinging to the air like a curse. It only fuels his anger towards Jungkook because he was once that curse, haunting Jimin until he went mad before crushing his self-worth. 

Jungkook growls, grabbing his head. “You — you’re so fucking irritating !” he shouts. Jimin doesn’t respond as Jungkook goes after him down the hall. “Will you just stop for a minute ? You’re driving me crazy !”  

Jimin gasps loudly and spins around. “I’m driving you crazy? You’re driving me fucking crazy! You have been around every corner, inside every crevice of this house!” he screams, pointing over the railing at the kitchen, then the bedroom behind him. 

“Oh, that is such an exaggeration.”

Jimin ignores him. “And you have the audacity to tell me that I’m irritating?! Do you understand how horrible it feels to see my boyfriend buying me your cologne? How — how un loved I feel?!” 

“That’s not my fucking fault!” 

“But it is! I shouldn’t have to fucking beg to be loved! Nobody should! And none of this would have happened if you had never showed up, you bitch !” he screams. 

Jimin is blinded by rage, and he tries to lunge at Jungkook when he grabs his wrists with one hand, his other shoving him against the wall. He pins Jimin’s wrists over his head, the other pressing against his collarbones.

“Did you even hear anything I said? I didn’t fucking know he had a boyfriend! He contacted me! You just — you just started all of this by overreacting on your angry impulse! And judging by how he was in bed with a random woman two minutes ago, he would have cheated on you anyway because he’s a deadbeat man-baby !” he shouts, heaving. 

Jimin stays quiet, glancing back and forth between Jungkook’s eyes. 

He scoffs. “Nothing to say? Huh? Run out of insults? Comebacks?” He sighs and casually switches hands, leaning all his weight on Jimin’s wrists to keep him in place as the other rests by his head. 

Jimin tries to control his breathing, tries not to think about how ridiculously good Jungkook smells, the scent engulfing him like antidote.

“You kept the wrong man. It’s your fucking fault that you ended up back in the same place. He may be older and look mature, but he’s a fucking coward ,” Jungkook spits. “A real man keeps his partner close. A real man treats his partner like art. A real man actually knows how to fuck his partner.” 

Jimin grits his teeth. “Ex cuse me?” His voice comes out soft, steady. 

Jungkook inhales and points a finger in Jimin’s face. “A man who gives you nothing — ” He pauses, heaving. “ — deserves nothing from you. It’s that fucking simple.” 

Jimin goes quiet again before opening his lips, but nothing comes out. 

Jungkook cocks a brow. “What? Got something to say to me, Princess?” 

It’s not that fucking simple, asshole. 

He growls at the nickname. “If you don’t let go of me right now, I swear — “ 

“The only reason you’re in this position is because you are so fucking impulsive and don’t bother listening to others. You’re not always the victim. Nobody has ever put you in place for being such a fucking brat .” 

“Then, do it !” Jimin snarls. 

Jungkook’s hard stare falls, and he blinks down at Jimin.

They stare at each other’s flushed-out faces, cheeks red. His warm breath fans Jimin’s nose, and he doesn’t break eye contact when he tilts his head, tongue flicking out to play with his lip ring as his eyes trail down to Jimin’s lips. 

He finally processes Jungkook’s strong body trapping him against the wall with only one arm, and his heart skips a beat. His thoughts waver to all the other things Jungkook could do to him with that strength, the way he could hold Jimin in any position, one hand in his hair, the other between his legs. 

Jungkook takes a step closer, so close that Jimin has to crank his neck up, and holy fucking shit . He’s so hot that it pisses him the fuck off.

He cocks a brow and finally speaks. “ Really ?” 

Jimin almost melts, but he rolls his eyes, wrestling a wrist free to point at his stern expression. “Does this look unsure to you?” 

Jungkook’s lips open, but a sad, pathetic sound comes out and Jimin hums, jutting his hip out. 

Then, his eyes trail down to Jimin’s lips, eyebrows furrowed as he licks his own.

Jimin is about to say to just get on with it when he does. 

He presses his hand against Jimin’s nape, pulling him forward to connect their lips in a wet, hungry kiss. 

And Jimin kisses back.

It’s hot and wet, and Jimin’s hands slide up Jungkook’s chest to rest on the sides of his neck. Jungkook is relentless, kissing and sucking on Jimin’s lips like sweet candy, hands moving to cup his jaw. His glossy lips smother Jungkook’s lip ring, mouth parting for Jungkook's tongue to slide into his. Jungkook devours him like a meal, forcing his tongue around his warm cavern, sucking and slurping with little growls. 

All the pent-up sexual frustration is released into each other’s mouths. 

His hands reach down to Jimin’s thighs, and Jimin hops into his arms without a second thought. Jungkook carries him like he’s nothing, not missing a beat as he pushes his back against the wall. He hooks the back of Jimin’s knees under his arms as he rests them on Jimin’s lower back, pressing them snug together. 

Like this, Jimin can feel everything . His piercings, his tongue, his broad chest . He can feel those hard pecks against his chest and the tight grip Jungkook has on his thighs, hips flush together.

If he really pays attention, he can feel Jungkook hardening through the jeans.

It makes him feel small. 

He wants Jungkook to manhandle him .

Jimin tangles his fingers in Jungkook’s hair as he carries him towards the bedroom, avoiding the bed those two fuckers were in. He hums softly as he pulls his lips away with a smack, gently laying Jimin down on the plush carpet before throwing off his parka and kneeling at his feet. 

The fireplace roars, and it eases the shiver that runs down Jimin’s arms and legs as Jungkook helps him shed his clothes until he’s bare. 

“Can I touch you?” he whispers.

Jimin swallows and nods. “Yes…” he whispers.

Jungkook sighs deeply, eyes gazing up and down Jimin’s body as his hands slide up his sides to rest on his collarbones, baring his neck open for Jungkook. He blushes under the intense scrutiny as Jungkook leans over him, fully clothed as he runs his lips up Jimin’s navel to his chest. 

They ghost Jimin’s neck, warm breath sending chills down his back. His hands rest on Jimin’s waist, sliding up and down his sides, kissing his waist and easing his mind. His hands are so big that they nearly encase Jimin’s ribs. Then, he trails them down to Jimin’s hips, and up his closed legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, silently worshiping Jimin’s body, kissing his skin every now and then. He wraps his hands around Jimin’s thighs to spread him open, looking down at his private parts. Jimin squirms in his hold, cock twitching and hardening. Jungkook tucks himself between his legs, tracing his obliques and navel, fingers coming dangerously close to his cock.

Then, he pauses, hands against Jimin’s pelvis. He trails a finger up Jimin’s shaft, and he gasps, back arching, legs opening wider as his cock twitches when Jungkook rubs his slit. 

Jungkook remains in a daze, admiring Jimin’s small cock like he’s admiring living art.

He cocks his head before pulling away, and Jimin whimpers, hips bucking up.

“So pretty. So fucking pretty. Gonna’ take care of you…” Jungkook mumbles, pulling off his shirt to reveal a toned body Jimin has always dreamed of touching.  

Jimin nods. “Okay…” he whispers.

Jungkook leans back down and kisses his neck, sucking on his skin. “Gonna’ make you feel so good and show you what real devotion is. Give you everything I have to offer — ” He kisses Jimin again, cupping a cheek. 

He nibbles on Jimin’s plush bottom lip, and Jimin whimpers. He tangles both hands in Jungkook’s hair, tilting his head to the side as their noses collide. 

Jimin sets a hand on Jungkook’s chest and pulls away with a smack, looking up into Jungkook’s face with parted lips. The light of the fire reflects in Jungkook’s doe eyes as he holds Jimin’s wrist with a small smile. He looks at his face, from his hairline, all the way down to his jaw, stopping on the adorable mole under his lip. It’s only at this moment in this lighting does Jimin notice a small cut on Jungkook’s cheek, and he thumbs over it.

Jungkook is unreal — like a seductive spell from a grimoire, pulling Jimin into a stupor.

“How… How could I have missed such beauty…” he whispers. 

Jungkook’s cheeks flare, and he thinks for a moment, smiling. “Maybe because you focused so much on throwing things at me.” 

Jimin lifts a leg to gently knee Jungkook in the balls, and he grunts, biting his bottom lip with a suppressed moan. “That one was a warning. The next one won’t be.” He smiles, hands slinking to Jungkook’s trapezius.

Jungkook just rolls his eyes before sitting up to unbutton his jeans. “Brat…” he mumbles. 

Jimin feels his heart skip a beat. 

Jungkook unzips his jeans, and Jimin follows to sit on his knees, hands reaching for Jungkook’s pants. But Jungkook stops him, holding his wrists gently. 

“No. Let me make you feel good the way you deserve. I can wait,” he murmurs.

Jimin blinks, lips forming to speak, but he nods and Jungkook gets his jeans off, tossing them to the side. He lets Jungkook lay him back down, hands gripping his sides to massage his skin with his thumbs. 

He pins Jimin’s wrists above his head, and he lets out a little moan when Jungkook’s lips attach around his nipple, sucking it sore before moving onto the other. He swirls his tongue around Jimin’s nubs, nibbling gently as Jimin turns his head side to side, whimpering into the air. 

More kisses rain on his skin as Jungkook makes his way down his sternum, and his touch is just so soft and so gentle that Jimin can’t help the strong emotions building up. He sits up on his elbows and makes eye contact with Jungkook, tearing up when Jungkook smiles and caresses his knee in reassurance. 

He starts to cry when Jungkook closes his eyes and kisses his calf with such tenderness . 

Jungkook’s eyes snap open, and he crawls back up as Jimin hugs himself, tears rattling against his lashes. He leans down to kiss Jimin’s cheek, cooing soft words into his ear as he runs steady fingers through his blonde hair. 

“Are you okay? Did I move too fast?”

A broken whimper leaves Jimin’s lips as he shakes his head furiously, hugging himself tighter. 

“I-in my twenty-eight y-years of living… Nobody — nobody has shown me a s-sliver of the l-love you just did in the last t-two minutes — ” He covers his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes squeeze shut, tears sliding down the sides of his head.

Jungkook frowns and cups Jimin’s face, shaking his head. “Jimin…” he whispers. 

Jimin hiccups into his hand as he lets it all out. “Th-the tattoo brought up so many — really bad e-emotions. That’s why I w-was so des-desperate for you to f- fix it!” he cries as Jungkook tugs him into his warmth. 

“Princess…” he whispers, wrapping his arms tight around his body. 

Jimin hiccups into his shoulder, squeezing his shoulders. “Couldn’t — Couldn’t look at myself anymore!” he cries, arms sliding around Jungkook’s neck. “I f-felt so… So ugly …” He sobs into Jungkook’s shoulder as Jungkook runs soothing circles up and down his back, murmuring into his shoulder. “A-and Ji-Jicheol wasn’t there! I didn’t kn-know-know where he was! Was a-all alone — ” His voice breaks, and his body tells him he’s done talking. 

Jungkook holds him tighter, unwilling to loosen when Jimin’s sobs grow choked. “I’m so sorry, Princess. Was so so mean to you. Didn’t deserve any of it…” he whispers, closing his eyes and pressing his nose to Jimin’s hair. “You were having such a hard time, and I refused to see that…” 

Jimin sniffles. “No. Y-you were right… He d-doesn’t love me anymore…” he whispers, shaking his head. 

He sobs into Jungkook’s shoulder, and he just holds Jimin’s trembling frame through it all. He doesn’t let go, and whispers quiet praises into Jimin’s ear.

It’s okay. 

You’re perfect.

Pretty. 

Gorgeous.

Beautiful. 

They help ease Jimin until he stops shaking, until his sobs subside into little sniffles. But he stays close to Jungkook until he gently tugs Jimin back to look into his eyes. He holds Jungkook’s arms, not wanting to separate any more as his lips quiver. Jungkook cups his face and kisses his cheek, then his nose, then his chin, reaching everywhere he can until Jimin is giggling. 

Jungkook lays him back down like a porcelain cup, tracing patterns on his shoulders as he smiles. “When I was doing it, all I could think about was how perfect you were, wondering how Jicheol could have ever forgotten about you,” he murmurs.

Jimin sniffles, eyes glittering. “R-really?” 

Jungkook smiles. “Really.” 

Jimin sniffles and takes a breath, rubbing an eye with his fist as Jungkook wipes the last of his tears. “Thank you…” he whispers. 

Jungkook smiles. “Should we stop or take a break?”

Jimin shakes his head. “No. Want you…” he mumbles, shy. 

He wants Jungkook’s intimacy, his strong and secure hold. 

Jungkook nods. “Okay, love. But I don’t have a condom.”

“I don’t want one.”

“Oh. Are you sure?”

“Do you have AIDs or gonorrhea?” Jimin remarks.

Jungkook furrows his brows. “No?”

“Neither do I. So yes, I’m sure. Wanna’ be on my chest,” he mumbles, getting ready to turn over for delicious backshots when Jungkook stops him. 

“No. Please, stay like this tonight. I don’t want to look at it…” he mumbles, avoiding eye contact. 

Jimin honestly wants to rub it in, but he sees the utter guilt and shame on Jungkook’s face and decides to leave it until it’s retouched. 

Then, maybe they can laugh about it. 

So, he nods. 

Jungkook inhales and holds Jimin’s hand. “Use stoplights. Green for good, yellow to slow down, red to stop.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and one more thing. Call me Daddy.” Jungkook drops his voice an octave, and it has Jimin’s tummy tingling like anything because it’s just so deep .

There’s a tinge of a Busan accent that slides off his tongue like silk, and Jimin can’t wait to hear it in his ear. 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. ”Okay, Daddy . You know you’re younger than me, right?” 

Jungkook cocks a brow, lifting his left thigh to spank his ass cheek. Jimin yelps, eyes going wide as his cock twitches to the hot burn, covering his entire cheek. He mewls, pouting and Jungkook just laughs. 

“There’s my boy,” he says proudly, scooting down until he’s level with Jimin’s cock. “You better say it like you mean it.” 

Then, he attaches his lips around Jimin’s tip, hands gripping his meaty thighs to hold him apart. 

“Oh — ” His eyes roll, knees wobbly as Jungkook laps around his cock, sucking on his tip like a sugary treat.

“D-daddy…  Ah — ” he whimpers.

All sorts of noises — whines, whimpers, purrs — are coming out of his mouth in just a few seconds of stimulation. It makes his cheeks flush, and he sucks his bottom lip in to keep the noises in.

But Jungkook doesn’t like that, and a low growl erupts from his chest. “Let me hear you, Princess,” he mumbles against his swollen tip before sinking down. 

Jimin gasps, fingers tangling in Jungkook’s hair until his entire cock is inside his mouth, back bowing. Jungkook sets a firm hand on Jimin’s tummy, pinning him down as he looks up from under his hair. He doesn’t stop as Jimin twitches and throbs in his mouth, bobbing his head up and down, hands squeezing at Jimin’s plump body. 

Jimin throws his wrists over his head with a mewl, right thigh beginning to tremble as Jungkook swallows around his small tip at the back of his throat. He hums in delight at Jimin’s reaction, and the vibrations send a shockwave through his body, toes curling, moaning and whimpering so obscenely. 

He knew Jungkook was talented. 

Just not like this. 

“Daddy… S-so good,” he rasps out, hips bucking up as Jungkook sucks him closer to his orgasm. “ ‘M c- close — ”

Jungkook smirks and presses down further, keeping Jimin buried down his throat, swallowing around him, and the constant convulsions around his cock send his mind elsewhere. Jimin’s eyes creak open, lips parting as the tip of his tongue slides out with incoherent gibberish. Jungkook caresses Jimin’s thigh, enjoying his babbling and squirming before pulling up to twirl his tongue around the tip, saliva dripping down Jimin’s cock like rain. 

“Cum for me.” 

“C-cuming — ” he rasps out, fingers struggling to claw at the carpet as Jungkook suckles on his head.

Jimin squirms and thrashes left and right, but Jungkook’s lips follow Jimin’s cock until spurts of cum are pouring down his throat. Flashes of white and purple flood Jimin’s vision, and he squeezes his eyes shut with a shrill keen as Jungkook’s hands press down below his navel, triggering an erogenous zone he didn’t even know he had.  

He pins Jimin’s hips down with both hands, attaching his lips halfway down his cock to drink every drop of semen like God’s wine. 

His little body shakes, toes curling as Jungkook grabs his thighs, eyes closed with another vibrating hum as he milks Jimin dry until he’s twitching, cock softening. He pulls off Jimin’s cock with a wet pop, heaving as a drop of cum dribbles down his lip. Jimin whimpers, hands reaching up for Jungkook as he thumbs the cum off his lip, holding it in front of Jimin’s lips. 

Blissed out, Jimin eagerly opens his mouth, hands grasping Jungkook’s wrist as he suckles on Jungkook’s thumb until his nose his pressed against his knuckle. Even after Jungkook’s thumb is coated in his own saliva, he doesn’t stop, so deep into the dirty sensation until Jungkook pulls it out with a chuckle.

“What a cute little thing, huh? Not so mouthy when your little cocklette is in my mouth,” he teases, running his knuckles along Jimin’s rosy cheek. “Can you cum one more time for Daddy?”

Jimin nods, eyes hooded as he reaches his hands up to hold Jungkook’s shoulders. “I-if you can make me,” he murmurs, a discrete smirk tugging on his lips. 

Jungkook chuckles again. “You have no idea. Gonna’ put my cock in this sweet little cunt now.” He smirks, roughly patting Jimin's hole, and he flinches from the sensation. 

Jimin finds himself enjoying the vulgar language and objectification more than he ever thought he would. He supposes it’s because he knows Jungkook doesn’t mean it. Knows that Jungkook will treat him like a petal, despite what comes out of his mouth. 

And it makes him feel wanted, both sexually and affectionately. 

He swallows and sits up as Jungkook stands to take off his underwear, letting his cock bounce free.

Jimin’s jaw drops. 

It’s huge and girthy, veiny, long .

But never mind that — he has a piercing. 

A cock piercing.

It’s a bar, just below the tip of his aching head, leaking a pearl of pre-cum, twitching up and down. 

Jimin starts drooling, and he doesn’t realize he’s drooling until Jungkook kneels back down with a laugh to close his mouth. 

“You like it, Princess?” 

Jimin just nods as Jungkook kneels between his legs. “Pretty…” he murmurs, cock at half-mast. 

He spits a glob of saliva directly on Jimin’s hole, using his middle and ring finger to push it inside with ease. Jimin’s eyes twitch, Jungkook’s long fingers massaging his walls, cold rings tapping against his rim. He fucks his spit into Jimin slowly until he jerks, fingers brushing against his long untouched prostate. He leans down, suckling along Jimin’s neck and chest as he rubs his saliva into Jimin’s walls, moistening him up.

His lips suck marks all across Jimin’s skin until he’s keening, aching with pain, pressing his hands against Jungkook’s nape to keep him close.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s touch is gone.

Jimin whines, hands fisting on his chest as he squirms, searching for Jungkook’s fingers. 

Jungkook tilts his head, heaving through his mouth with a cocky grin, tongue swiping across his upper teeth. “I thought you wanted my cock?” he teases. 

Jimin just grumbles, looking away with a pout.

“So bratty when you’re empty,” Jungkook says. “Need to buy you a dildo and keep you stuffed all day.” 

Jimin perks up at the hot idea, quietly eyeing Jungkook as he kneels down. 

He nestles between Jimin’s legs, both hands on his hips as he lines himself up, cold piercing running along his quivering hole. 

Then, he stills, looking at Jimin with softening eyes. “Ready?” he asks, voice quieting.

Jimin exhales through his nose, closing his eyes and nodding. He feels his whole body shake as Jungkook slowly pushes forward, the blunt tip of his cock breaching his puffy rim. He gasps as Jungkook’s cold piercing tickles against his wall, chills running up and down his body as he squirms, forcing himself to stay still.

Jungkook helps him, a soft groan escaping him as he presses a hand to Jimin’s chest, keeping him still until he’s fully seated. Jimin’s breath is stuck in his chest, and he clenches around the warm length, waiting to feel Jungkook’s meaty cock stretch him open. He’s never wanted to be destroyed so much, however sore he’ll be tomorrow. 

He takes steady breaths in and out, trying to compose his wriggling body as he keeps his eyes shut. 

Jungkook laughs, causing Jimin to open his eyes. “You’re already wiggling around, and I haven’t even started. Are you sure you can handle so much cock?” He smirks, dragging a finger across Jimin’s forehead to move the hair out of his eyes.

Jimin grumbles under his breath, suddenly feeling bratty. “Is that all you’ve got? I’ve handled bigger. Fucking move — ah !” 

Jungkook shuts Jimin up with a quick flick of his hips, pulling his length out before plunging it back into Jimin’s tight hole. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

Jimin can’t breathe, chest puffing, split open so wide on Jungkook’s cock, buried so fucking deep. Then, he pulls out and snaps inside again, and Jimin feels a bolt of electricity flash through his chest as Jungkook hits his prostate on only the second stroke. 

“J-Jung…  Oh — ”

“Found it.” Jungkook grins, rolling his body against Jimin’s to grind deep, piercing thoroughly fucking into his prostate until he’s a whimpering mess, fingers tweaking at his nipples, cock twitching with every contraction of his hole.

Jungkook pouts. “Awh. Poor Princess hasn’t been fucked this good before, huh?” he teases, running a finger down Jimin’s shaft as he sets a rough pace, fat balls slapping against Jimin’s ass.

Jimin doesn’t need to respond any further than a breathy whimper, eyes fluttering as his body is jolted up and down. Jungkook plants himself on his knees, grabbing Jimin’s wrists to tug them taut to his sides like reins as he fucks harder, deeper. Jimin releases staccato ‘ ah’ s with every thrust, back arching as Jungkook fucks him into oblivion, skin slapping against skin. 

His hole clenches and unclenches wetly around Jungkook’s thick cock, stretching him out and reaching places untouched, even, by Jimin. Jungkook lets out little grunts and heaves, tongue biting into his bottom lip as a layer of sweat forms over his forehead, earrings dangling.  

His eyes trail down to the bracelet on Jimin’s wrist, and he uses a thumb to flick the J-shaped charm over. 

“J for Jimin?” he grunts out, raising his barred eyebrow.

“J for… Ha… Oh — ”

“Take your time, Princess.”

Jimin was going to say Jungkook, but just for that — “J f-for Jicheol.” He smirks, a breathy laugh leaving his lips.

Jungkook’s jaw jumps, and he fucks into Jimin even harder, just like he hoped. The force of it jostles Jimin up, head throwing back with a vulgar mewl, and Jungkook moans as his soft, warm hole grips his cock like a vice. Jimin’s mouth hangs open, panting, back arched like a sickle moon. He whimpers when Jungkook’s fingers slide under the bracelet, breaking it off as he fucks Jimin ferociously.

“D-Daddy — “

“Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll buy another one with J for me ,” he growls, possessive.

Jimin whines shamelessly through Jungkook’s ruthless pace, not giving him a chance to breath, plowing into him so hard that Jimin goes teary-eyed from the pleasure. 

“Look at your little pussy. So fucking tight just for me, right?” Jungkook praises as he plunges into Jimin’s tight heat with wet squelches. 

Jimin mewls, humiliation ricocheting through him with such intensity, hands fisting in Jungkook’s grip as his brains are fucked out.

And Jungkook is just so big .

He’s irreversibly pushing Jimin past his limits, splitting him open, and he’s somehow able to handle it, molding to Jungkook’s cock so perfectly like a missing puzzle piece. His back arches more, and Jungkook straightens up, lifting Jimin higher and pounding into him just right that he goes even deeper. 

“Would you look at that,” he mumbles, impressed, not skipping a beat.

Jimin’s eyes trail down, and they widen when he sees the imprint of Jungkook’s cock against his belly, skin protruding obscenely. The tip of his fat cock disappears into Jimin over and over again, and Jimin can’t say anything as he watches it, entranced. 

“Sh-shit…” he whispers, feeling hot.

Holy fucking shit .

“Can you feel me in your belly, Princess? Can you feel me up here?” Jungkook taunts, holding both of Jimin’s wrists close to him with one hand, firmly pressing his other hand against the bulge in Jimin’s belly. 

Jimin actually loses it, eyes blowing open as he arches his back with a near scream, fingers opening, wrists still restrained in Jungkook’s grip. His head thuds against the floor, and the rest of his body goes limp, accepting, taking what Jungkook gives him as his eyes roll back. Tears brim his eyes before they jostle onto his cheeks from the force of the thrusts, pleasure spiking impossibly high. 

“Is Daddy fucking you good?”

“Y-yes. Fucking me so — Hhh — So deep —“ He can barely spit it out. ”B-but… Hhh… I thought — thought you were gonna’ put me — in m-my place?” He smirks, whimpering through his words as Jungkook’s piercing tickles his belly. 

Jungkook tilts his head. “Was going to. But I didn’t feel like bruising such a pretty little body today.” 

Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it —

Jimin snickers. “Wuss.” 

Then, Jungkook’s eyes darken. “Wanna’ be put in your place?” He throws Jimin’s wrists over his head to lifts his ass off the ground by his thighs, hugged in one arm before landing a stinging slap to his ass. 

Jimin gasps and looks at Jungkook with hazy eyes, ass rippling like jello.

Yes, yes, yes, yes —  

“Remember your colors…” Jungkook mumbles.

Jimin swallows. “Green, Daddy…” he rasps out, biting his bottom lip.

Jungkook smirks, griping the firm muscle beneath his fingers. 

“Such a gorgeous little ass.” Jungkook emphasizes his praise with another crisp slap against Jimin’s other cheek, and he cries out as his body jolts, hole clenching impossibly tight, little cock twitching. 

Jungkook smirks, relishing the way his body reacts and does it again, and Jimin is a miserable mess . 

“ ‘S… ‘S a gift — ” he tries to brag. 

But Jungkook’s cock doesn’t let him, and he goes cross-eyed. 

“You’re getting a little too mouthy, Princess. Do I need to stuff your sloppy hole deeper? Past your little belly?” Then, he shifts up, his hands gripping Jimin’s thighs to tug him until his ass is off the floor, hanging off Jungkook’s cock, the angle allowing him to drive into Jimin’s belly with new ferocity.

Jimin wails, eyes squeezing shut, fingers searching for purchase on Jungkook’s ringed fingers, still tight around his thighs. 

“Is daddy making you feel so good that you can’t even speak? Finally fucked the brat out of you?” 

Jimin nods with a babble. “I — ah !” he pathetically tries to no avail.

“You like being fucked stupid on my fat cock?” 

“Y- yes ! L-love it,” he slurs, fucked past any of his usual brat behavior.

The carpet rubs raw against his shoulders, but he doesn’t care, focused on nothing but the way Jungkook’s length pounds in and out of him. His piercing drags along his walls and kisses the underside of his belly with every thrust, jabbing against his prostate on the way up. He clenches his hole every time Jungkook slides out, sucking him back in with ease to imprint his body like a fleshlight. 

His own cock, painfully hard and dribbling, lays helplessly against his belly, bouncing up and down with every deep stroke. It’s tiny compared to Jungkook’s cock, so much so that Jimin is a little embarrassed. 

But he’s sure that Jungkook loves it. 

Jungkook’s warm hands slide up Jimin’s stomach to rest on his chest, biceps under his knees, holding his legs up and open. “You’re so perfect, Princess. Daddy’s perfect little cockslut .”

His words come out breathy, labored, and Jimin forces his eyes open to find Jungkook’s face. His eyes are dark, hair sticking to his forehead, teeth nibbling on his lip ring as he continues to fuck Jimin loose and sloppy. He doesn’t give Jimin a single moment, and his brain scrambles into nothing but cock cock cock , nothing more than a warm, wet hole for Jungkook to use. 

“If I knew how crazy you’d make me — How fucking tight you’d be — I would have fucked you over my desk right then and there and tattooed my name onto your body,” he growls, leaning his head back, jaw jumping.  

Jimin just whimpers at the thought of being fucked in Jungkook’s office, cock leaking beads of pre-cum. “ Ah, ah, ah, ah — ” 

He jabs into Jimin’s prostate harder, piercing digging into his parts as that familiar tingle quills through him, growing stronger each second as his hole clamps down tighter, forcing a deep groan out of Jungkook.

“Cumming! Daddy, ‘M cumming !” he cries, toes curling.

He whines when Jungkook just slows down, rolling his hips just right , but not enough. 

“Wanna’ cum, Princess?” he coos. 

Jimin nods with a mewl, hands reaching for Jungkook’s biceps. 

Jungkook smirks. “Beg.”

Jimin’s eyes widen. “H-huh?!”

“What — does — Princess — want ?” he asks, finger tapping Jimin’s cock with every pause.

Jimin struggles to speak as Jungkook continues to dig into his prostate, tortuously slow when he’s so close to cumming.

“C- cum !” Jimin wails. 

Jungkook’s fingers find the abse of his cock to squeeze , denying him longer. “Is that all? I thought I asked you to beg ,” he growls, thumb dancing around Jimin’s slit. 

Jimin cries out again. “Daddy! Wan’… Wanna’ — a-ah — wanna’ cum ! Please, let me cum! Please, please, please, please, please — ” 

Jungkook chuckles, returning to his brutal pace into Jimin’s prostate, and cutting him off with a choked out plea. “Alright, Princess. Cum for me.”

On command, Jimin arches as his orgasm blindside him, rushing through him like an overflowing river as his eyes roll back, tongue drooling out. Cum shoots out of his bouncing, twitching cock, spraying across his chest and belly as his body convulses. 

He trembles as Jungkook continues to thrust into him, belly bulging once again, and he squeals when Jungkook’s hand wraps around his cock, pumping him into overstimulation as his ass spasms around Jungkook’s girthy meat. 

But he loves it. 

Loves the way his body jerks uncontrollably, the way his vision blurs, and the way Jungkook refuses to let go, pinning him down until his body is spent, the last dribbles of cum trickling out his cock until it’s limp. 

Jungkook groans, little grunts and whimpers escaping his lips as he gets closer to his own orgasm, thrusts growing sloppier. “So tight. So tight and warm and wet — Hhh… Almost there, Princess,” he murmurs, cupping Jimin’s cheek. “Remember your c-colors…”

He’s about to pull out, sliding back a few inches when Jimin shakes his head. “G-green! Green! C-cum inside !” he cries.

Jungkook nods and squeezes his eyes shut. He buries himself back inside, hips grinding little circles into Jimin, his prostate abused past his limit until the younger finally cums, sloshing into Jimin. His hot, wet seed oozes into Jimin, wave after wave until his ass is pumped full of cum, leaking around Jungkook’s cock like cream.

He pulls out with an embarrassingly loud and vulgar suction, strings of cum trailing onto his cock as it leaks down Jimin’s ass. Jungkook cups it with his fingers before pushing it back into Jimin, propping his ass up against Jungkook’s thighs so that it doesn’t leak out of his gaping ass. He runs a finger down Jimin’s puffy rim, swollen and puckering, and he whimpers, reaching up to press his hands around his hole to pull it open for Jungkook. 

Jungkook slides a finger inside and circles it around, making Jimin squirm a little more before leaning down to lick him clean.

His tongue swirls up and down Jimin’s body, cleaning off every bit of cum, pressing against his perky pink teats as he whimpers and spasms, chest rising up and down. He sits back with a heave, strong hands protective on Jimin’s hips as he swipes his damp hair away from his face. 

Jimin looks at Jungkook through his tousled hair, hands curled on his chest as Jungkook looks back.

His sweaty, toned body looks so good in the glow of the fire, lips swollen, eyes reflecting the flames. 

Afterglow. 

Jimin looks down at his own body, stained in jungkook’s saliva with an equally thick layer of sweat. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything as he turns Jimin, placing a hand under his knees and another under his shoulder. He stands up with a grunt, hauling Jimin up with him towards the bathroom. He sets Jimin down on the wooden stool, and he waits there, exhausted, as Jungkook grabs a turkey towel and wets it under the sink. 

He stays on the stool as Jungkook pats down his tired body and face, eyes closed before his breath begins to ease. Jungkook taps his knee and motions for him to stand, and cum dribbles down his thigh when he does. A rosy blush rises on his cheeks and Jungkook laughs softly, kissing his head. 

“Let me clean you up.”

Jimin leans his hands on the counter, arching his back, just like he did that day in the parlor. He watches in the mirror as Jungkook spreads a cheek open, letting all the cum out before wiping him dry with the towel. 

Although, he isn’t clean on the inside, it’s good enough for tonight. 

Jungkook stands straight when he’s done, and Jimin straightens up as well, trying to fix his hair in the mirror as Jungkook wipes his dick up. 

His cheeks are red, lips bitten swollen, and he struggles to keep his eyes open, a stagger in his step. 

He’s ready to get to bed. 

Then, Jungkook stands behind him, running a finger along the ruined tattoo. He sees Jungkook’s expression frown, and turns around with a smile. 

“I have something. Come,” he interrupts, taking Jungkook’s hand.

“Again?” Jungkook raises a brow.

Jimin smacks his arm. “Shut up.” His words sparkle with a lovely strain of laughter that he hasn’t heard from himself in months.

He takes Jungkook to the spare room, lit only by the lights of the hall where the laundry basket lies still on the carpet. He searches the mess for Jungkook’s Calvin Klein underwear. When he finds it, he holds it up and tosses it into Jungkook’s arms, and he laughs.

“I remember leaving these behind,” he mumbles.

Jungkook puts them on while Jimin searches the laundry pile for his own underwear and slides them on. He turns to face Jungkook, and he pouts as he looks at the plain boxers. 

“No lace for Daddy?” 

Jimin sighs and rolls his eyes, bending down to ruffle through the laundry again. “You’re relentless…” he grumbles, pulling out a lace thong he remembers last wearing for Jicheol, a sad attempt that didn’t work. 

“Someone’s pouty.”

“Can you — mph — “

Jungkook cuts him off with a silky kiss, cupping his face and pulling away with a gentle smack. “Better?”

Jimin smiles shyly, and it speaks volumes. 

He picks up the rest of the laundry and carelessly tosses it into the basket before Jungkook drops it in the hallway. 

He gently furrows his eyebrows as he looks down at Jimin, deeply in thought. Jimin tilts his head, looking up at him, waiting for him to speak. 

“I know that this is a lot really fast. Do you want… What do you want?” he asks. 

Jimin blinks. “What — what do you mean?” 

Jungkook sets his hands on Jimin’s hands, caressing his knuckles with his thumb. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

The thought of another lonely night bothers him more than he thought it would, especially after the sex.

He nods. “I do.”

So, they make the bed in the spare bedroom, exchanging giddy looks, giggling each time they do like two high schoolers on a first date. 

Then, Jungkook shuts the door and pulls Jimin into his chest under the warm covers. A dim lamp on Jungkook’s nightstand paints the room in a warm, golden glow that makes Jimin’s mind fuzzy, Jungkook’s calloused hands tracing patterns up and down his arm. 

Jimin sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face as he looks up at Jungkook. “Did you really take the money from Jicheol? Even after you found out?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Of course not.”

Jimin snuggles into his chest with a little “Oh.” 

Jungkook hums, and they’re silent for a few moments. His steady breath fans Jimin’s head, nose tucked against his hair as he stares out the window. 

A smile spreads across Jimin’s face. 

Jeon Jungkook just fucked his brains out. 

Jeon Jungkook just fucked my brains out. 

“I can’t remember the last time Jicheol made me cum like that.”

Jungkook glances down. “When was the last time he did?”

“Well, like I said, I can’t remember.”

“Maybe it was so bad you’ve repressed it.”

“I repress nothing. Unlike you.”

Jungkook snorts. “He’s like — forty. How has he never actually fucked you before? You’re literally the most fuckable person alive.” 

Jimin sits up with narrowed eyes. “Are you objectifying me?” 

“No. I’m just saying. You’re fuckable .” Jungkook sits up and tugs Jimin into his lap. 

Jimin laughs, straddling his waist and leaning against his chest. “I have no idea what that even means.”

Jungkook smiles, hands on running up and down Jimin’s sides. 

His eyes trail over Jimin’s features, and Jimin can see himself in the reflection of his glistening eyes. He lifts a finger and drags it down Jimin’s nose bridge, resting on his plush lips. “I like you, Jimin. I really, really like you.”

Jimin blushes, biting his bottom lip to try and conceal his smile. 

Before he can reply, Jungkook’s smile fades. 

“Can I ask you something? Why… Why did you stay with him?”

Jimin tips his head. “What do you mean?”

“You went back, even after he cheated on you. Even after you knew you weren’t getting the affection you deserved.”

“Um…” Jimin looks away, hands on Jungkook’s shoulder. “I…”

Jungkook stutters and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “It’s okay. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have — ”

“I thought he had what I wanted, what I needed . He was older, and I thought he was more mature. I liked the idea of it, and I went with who he was. I was just too scared to let go because I didn’t wanna’ end up alone.”

Jungkook frowns before sighing, wrapping his arms around Jimin. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Jimin leans his chin on Jungkook’s shoulder. “ ‘S okay. I've known for a while. It was just hard to accept. But it’s over now. And I feel better. Because of you…” he mumbles the last bit. 

Jungkook smiles and shimmies down the bed, resting his head against the pillows. ”Then, I hope I’m the prime example that a younger man who knows what he’s doing is way sexier.” 

Jimin shrugs and slides back to Jungkook’s side, tucking his temple against his clavicle with his thigh still around Jungkook’s midsection. 

“Maybe. But you’re fluffier than I thought.”

“ Fluffy ?” 

Jimin giggles. “Yeah. Fluffy. 

“Well, I’m sorry that I know how to do aftercare after making your pretty little eyes roll,” he said, flicking Jimin between his eyebrows. 

“Ow!” he whines, tucking his face into Jungkook’s side with a hiss. He peers back up. “Apologize,” he orders. 

Jungkook laughs. 

“Apologize!” Jimin cries, reaching back to grab a pillow and slam it on Jungkook’s face.  

He lets out a grunt, pulling it off and throwing it back at Jimin with a laugh. “No!” 

Jimin lifts it over his head with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. “Apologize,” he warns again, ready to fling the pillow at Jungkook again.

But he swallows. “I’m sorry, Jimin.”

Jimin’s smile fades. 

Jungkook is indeed apologizing.

But he’s serious, eyes flickering with uncharacteristic vulnerability.

He already knows why, and he holds a hand up. “Jungkook — ”

“No. Let me say this, Jimin. Please.” Jimin purses his lip as Jungkook continues. “I messed up. I shouldn't have done that with the tattoo. I just wanted to get under your skin, and I didn’t know how badly it would hurt you. I went too far, and I’m so sorry." He takes Jimin’s hands in his. “I promise to fix it when you’re ready. And I want you to know that you — ” He pauses, eyes glancing back and forth between Jimin’s chocolate eyes. “You are absolutely beautiful . And I will be there to show you just how much whenever you forget. Okay?”

All the weight Jimin had been carrying for weeks, the shame and self-doubt, slowly melts away as Jungkook looks at him with eyes that sparkle like the universe. His heart softens, and his lips curled into a small, genuine smile. 

He swallows before nodding. “Thank you. Really,” he says. Then, he looks down, a smile cracking at his lips. “I really like you too. Do you… Do you wanna’ go on a date?” He peers at Jungkook under his hair. 

Jungkook slowly grins, ear to ear, kissing Jimin’s forehead before tugging him back into his arms with a yelp, then a giggle. “I’d love to.” 

They stay like this for a while. 

Jimin closes his eyes and focuses on Jungkook’s warmth surrounding him, the tingling breath on his ear, and the gentle stroke of fingers through his hair. 

He feels so warm and safe, and he drifts off to sleep, Jungkook’s heartbeat on his head. 

 ──── 

The next morning, Jimin rolls over in bed with a knee out, yawning into his arm as Jungkook shifts behind him. He sighs into the pillow when Jungkook’s arm wraps around his waist, the other sliding under his neck. Jungkook lets his other hand run down the curve of Jimin’s hip to rest on his ass cheek, massaging it for a moment before spanking it hard. 

Jimin yelps, burying his face into Jungkook’s arm, but Jungkook doesn’t let him hide, nuzzling into his aching neck with a hand across his chest until Jimin is pushing him away.

He giggles in Jimin’s ear. “Morning,” he rasps out.

Jimin hums with a small smile, eyes still shut. “Good morning…” he mumbles.

Jungkook pulls the hair out of Jimin’s puffy face, running his fingers through it. “You look so pretty in the morning.”

The elder creaks his eyes open, blinking to adjust to the light as he looks up at Jungkook’s sun-kissed face, so perfect in every way.

“You look like shit,” he says.

Jungkook bursts out laughing, falling back into the pillows. “Did you have a shitty night?” he teases.

Jimin glances over his shoulder. “Yeah! Because you kept — stealing the blanket!” he yells, trying to tug it out from under Jungkook. “How do you get so tangled ?”

Jungkook laughs and yanks the blanket, exposing Jimin to the cold morning air. “Stop!” he yelps, turning around to wriggle it away from Jungkook. 

Jungkook reaches to the floor and hits him with a pillow just as he turns his back, covering his face with a cry. “Wake up!” he yells.

Jimin groans. “I’m sore all over. Leave me alone.”

But Jungkook is persistent, and Jimin knows he won’t let up like a child who needs stimulation. 

Eventually, he fetches their phones from the other room and manages to get Jimin to the bathroom. 

Jungkook is bouncing off the walls, even as he brushes his teeth with a wooden set from an old travel kit. He ends up tossing Jimin over his shoulder, a hand on his butt to keep him steady as he swings around and hums to a tune.

Jimin just accepts it, eyes closed as he tries to keep the foamy toothpaste from dripping out his mouth, hands gripping at Jungkook’s shirt. 

After a few minutes, Jimin finally pats Jungkook’s shoulders, and he sets him down. He looks at his body up and down, and his skin is painted in light hickeys from his neck to his chest. There is a particularly dark one on the right side of his neck, and he runs a finger over it, satisfied. 

His body is unimaginably sore, and he ends up waddling around the bathroom with stiff shoulders. He empties his mouth with a quick rinse, reaching for his toner and lotion as Jungkook furiously brushes his molars, baselessly staring hard into the mirror. 

Jimin side eyes him. “Are you always this hyper in the morning?”

“Not usually.”

“Thank god…” Jimin whispers, gripping the counter. 

Jungkook snorts, smacking the back of Jimin’s head before spitting into the sink.

Jimin grumbles and flicks him back over his nipple with a yelp before his phone buzzes on the counter. He flips it over to scoff. He lifts the screen to show Jicheol ❤️ displayed, and Jungkook grimaces. Jimin declines it and throws on his silk robe, fixing his hair in the mirror when it rings again. 

This time, Jungkook is the one to decline it, muttering “Loser” as he does.

“I should probably find you some clothes, huh,” Jimin mumbles, arms lightly stretching over his head to fall around Jungkook’s shoulders. 

Jungkook holds his waist, cutely puckering his lips. “Unless you want me to walk around like this.” 

Jimin shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

The younger leans down with a playful growl, nibbling Jimin’s neck, on top of the hickeys, his rumpled mane tickling Jimin’s face. His hand reaches up to wrap around Jimin’s neck, thumb on his chin, tilting his head back to reveal more of his neck. His other one slides down Jimin’s side to lift it by the back of his knee, wrapping it around his waist as Jimin hums. 

Behind his giggles and the sounds of Jungkook nipping his throat with frenzied bites that turn into sloppy kisses and lazy tonguing, Jimin misses Jicheol’s text.

I’m so sorry. I’m on my way home bby boy

────

The front door jiggles, pushing open for Jicheol to peer around the door before stepping inside.

“Jimin?” he calls, kicking off his shoes.

He brushes his clothes — newly purchased — as his eyes and ears stray around the mansion, listening for his boyfriend in case he ambushes with another knife. 

Pattering footsteps walk down the hall before Jimin appears at the balcony of the second floor, hand gliding along the rails. He pauses at the top of the stairs, smiling softly. 

Jicheol smiles back, rubbing his nape. “Hey, baby — ”

“What are you doing here?” Jimin asks, setting both hands on the volute, arching his back ever so slightly. 

Jicheol blinks. “I live here.” 

Jimin wants to scoff. Jicheol really thinks that he’s going to let his infidelity slip a second time. He’s used to Jimin’s wrath, expecting Jimin to charge him so they can fall back into the same pattern of relentless anger and then endless love.

But Jimin isn’t going to adhere this time. 

He’s not even noticing the hickeys. That mother fucker —

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Not anymore. I’m kicking you out.” 

Jicheol furrows his brows. “You can’t. This house is in my name.” He doesn’t sound panicked, rather cocky. 

Jimin can play that game. 

“Yes. And you will continue to pay for its up keeping. Otherwise, I will expose you for the cheating man you are.” He keeps his voice sweet, tilting his head. “What do you think will happen after that? Nobody will want to work with your corporations or any of your departments. You will become a hated nobody .” 

It’s a baseless threat, but it’s enough to frighten him enough.

Jicheol’s eye widen, words caught in his throat as he lifts a finger. “Now, wait just a minute — ”

“You should move into your vacation house in Jeju since most of your work is remote anyway. We’re keeping this one.”

Jicheol cocks a brow, looking at Jimin with utter turmoil. “ We ?” 

That’s when Jungkook emerges down the hall, wearing nothing but his boxers, showing off his toned body. 

Jicheol’s jaw drops, and Jimin has to feign off his laughter. 

He sets a hand on Jimin’s hip, tugging him close with an exhale. He makes direct eye contact with Jicheol as his lips attach to Jimin’s ear, possession clouding his eyes. Jimin bares his neck to the side with a smirk, and it’s at that moment does Jicheol notice the hickeys.

Jicheol scoffs. “You’re with him now?” 

Jimin hums, reaching down to hold Jungkook’s big arms . “I want a real man. One who knows how to take care of me. Clearly, you still have the morals of a teenager, and I can’t deal with someone who doesn’t know how to do his own laundry.”  

“This is about laundry ?!” Jicheol shrieks.

“It’s about more than laundry, you half-wit dipshit ,” Jimin spits. “But if you acted a sliver like a forty-year-old, you’d have been able to figure it out.” 

Jicheol’s lips purse, eyes wide as he struggles to say anything in retaliation. Jungkook chuckles into Jimin’s ear, clearly enjoying the spectacle, while Jicheol turns red with frustration, fists clenched with a complete loss for words.

Then, he throws a pointer finger Jimin’s way. “You’re making a big mistake!” he yells, voice filled with desperation. 

“Yeah, yeah…” Jimin mutters, rolling his eyes.

Jicheol lets out an exasperated growl, stomping over to the door. His hands shake as he jams his feet back into his shoes. “You won’t survive without me!” he shouts, voice cracking. 

But it’s clear the words are for his own sad ego more than anything else.

He continues to ramble as he throws open the door, but the pair aren’t even paying attention to him, stuck in a honeymoon phase. 

“We’re not really staying here, right?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin shakes his head with a grimace. “God, no. I fucking hate it here.”

“Me too.”

Then, Jicheol shoots out the door, slamming it behind him.

Jimin throws the balcony doors facing the front of the house open, the cool air brushing over his face. He leans on the railing as Jicheol storms down the driveway, cursing. Jungkook stands behind him and fastens his arms tight around Jimin’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.

Jungkook plants a soft kiss on his temple, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, that was dramatic.”

Jimin snorts, leaning back into Jungkook’s embrace as Jicheol finally speeds away. “He’ll be back. I give him a week.

“I give him twenty minutes,” Jungkook mumbles. 

Jimin continues, shrugging. “Probably with a bunch of dry cleaning he wants me to take care of.”

Jungkook pauses as the morning birds chirp, eyebrows furrowing. “He can’t swim, right?” he murmurs into Jimin’s temple.

He looks over his shoulder with a raised brow. “How do you know that ?”

“Should we drown him in the pool?”

Jimin thinks for a moment before shaking his head with a hum. 

“No. Let’s save that for when we’re broke.”

────

༺ FOR EVERMORE ༻

they’re such goofy goobers

the smut is SO messy i couldn’t decide between bratty jm/mean jk or fucked-out jm/sweet jk so i tried to do both TTOTT not sure how it came out though

when jimin is dancing in the beginning, i mentioned a “twizzle.” it’s not an actual dance move, but a figure skating element which consists of a series of fast turns :) they’re often done on only one foot, but many skaters use two for artistic component and they sort of look like pirouettes!

lmk if you noticed my little twitter cameo loool. my irl account is @roses_for_mnnie if you wanna come scream w/ me over jikook <3

and as always, PLEASSSEEEEE LEAVE COMMENTS! yall don’t understand how HAPPY they make writers <3

last but not least, if you liked this i’m sure you’ll enjoy my fic CFM ! i would say it’s sort of enemies to lovers. just be sure to read the tags :)