Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jimin:

“Oh my God. Oh my God, no. No, no, no, no—” His voice grew increasingly shrill as he stared at the screen of his stupid fucking phone. 

Sent to: Professor Jeon.

Jimin screamed. A real and loud and high pitched scream that he had no time to worry about what his neighbors might think. The phone went flying across the room, bouncing off the edge of his desk and landing with a dull thud on the floor. “No. No, no, no, no, no.” Jimin started pacing, fingers clawing through his hair. 

Jimin was dead. Surely he was dead. His life was practically flashing across his eyes as his mind flipped through the endless possible scenarios. He’s probably expelled, isn’t he? is sending a nude to your teacher by accident, expulsion-worthy? it had to be right? that had to be a form of sexual harassment? oh fuck— sexual harassment?! Jimin screamed again as he fought the urge to rip his hair out. He was most definitely getting fired from his position as teacher aide. Is that even a thing? could you get fired from a job that wasn’t really even a job— where you weren’t even actually getting paid?— 

Jimin groaned, pacing his bedroom like a mad man. Anxiety flooding his nervous system, terror striking hard in his gut. Jimin could already see it. Could already see the headlines across social media: desperate gay guy sends unsolicited nudes to his professor. 

He was dead. Jimin was dead and gone and he could only pray Taehyung would dispose of his phone before the cops could confiscate it. 

What felt like years later— though, it had probably only been minutes—Jimin’s phone buzzed from where it lay on the carpet. He froze mid-step, his breath catching in his throat. His wide eyes locked onto the device like it was a venomous snake ready to strike. “Nope. Nope, nope, nope,” he whispered, backing away. 

But curiosity always killed the cat. Or maybe it was just the sheer terror that itched at Jimin. He found himself creeping toward the phone, crouching down like a burglar, as if approaching it too quickly would detonate some kind of bomb. With trembling fingers, he picked it up. A notification stared back at him. Taunting and cruel and just the right amount of confirmation Jimin needed to know his life was most definitely over. 

Professor Jeon: 
Jimin? 

Jimin wasn’t sure if it was the lack of a real response, or the fact that all he replied with was with something so minuscule and vague that had him nearly crushing his phone in his hand. Jimin’s stomach churned, his head dropping back as he groaned again. Loud and guttural. The sound you made when you were contemplating horrendous things. 

Jimin stared at the notification on his phone, his chest tightening with every second that passed. A fresh wave of embarrassment flooded through him, but his brain—stupid and cruel as always—dragged him straight to the one thing he didn’t want to think about right now: his crush on Professor Jeon.

Calling it a crush felt almost insulting. It wasn’t just a fleeting attraction or some shallow admiration. No, this was a full-blown, hopeless infatuation that had consumed Jimin for months. It was pathetic how much space Jeon occupied in his head.

How could he not? Professor Jeon was kind in a way that felt rare—always patient, and funny, too, with a dry, subtle humor that always caught Jimin off guard and left him laughing harder than he should.

And God, he was gorgeous. Tall, broad-shouldered, with boyish features that belonged on the cover of a magazine. He had this timeless, almost ethereal beauty that made it impossible to guess his actual age. How is it legal for someone to look that good? Jimin had wondered more times than he could count.

But it wasn’t just Professor Jeon’s face that made him the subject of Jimin’s late-night fantasies. It was the way he carried himself—so effortlessly cool, so maddeningly perfect. There was the lip ring that glinted when he smiled, the full sleeve of tattoos that snaked down his arm, and the way he somehow managed to look both professional and impossibly hot and have that stupidly charming boyish personality all at the same time.

Jimin hadn’t even known about the tattoos until a few months ago. They’d been alone in Professor Jeon’s office late one night, grading papers in comfortable silence.Professor Jeon had glanced up at him, those dark brown eyes warm and apologetic, as he asked, ‘Would you mind if I took off my jacket? It’s getting kind of warm in here.’

Jimin, ever eager to please, had nodded quickly, waving it off like it was no big deal. But the moment Jeon shrugged out of his jacket, Jimin had nearly swallowed his tongue. The tattoos were stunning, intricate and detailed, winding all the way from his knuckles to his shoulder. They made him look even more unattainable, like some untouchable work of art.

Jimin had barely made it out of the office that night without combusting on the spot.
The second he got home, though, all bets were off. Jimin had ended up sprawled on his bed, hand between his legs, fucking himself stupid while whispering his Professors name into the dark.

It was embarrassing how often he thought about that night. How often he thought about his Professor period. Taehyung was probably sick of hearing about it by now-about how Jeon was so sweet, so considerate, so ridiculously hot. About how he laughed at Jimin"s jokes and complimented his work and sometimes leaned just a little too close when they were going over a paper together.

It wasn"t like Jimin had any delusions about it, though. Professor Jeon was nice to everyone, not just him. He was the kind of man who was universally adored-every man and woman"s dream. There was no way he would ever look at Jimin and see anything but a student. An assistant. A kid with a hopeless little crush.

But now... now he had seen Jimin. Seen him in a way no one else he’d ever had a crush on this bad had. The thought made Jimin"s stomach churn with shame and panic, but there was a small, treacherous part of him-a part he hated-that couldn"t help but wonder if his Professor had liked what he saw. If, just for a second, he had looked at that photo and thought Jimin was attractive. 

Fuckable maybe. 

He shook his head violently, trying to shove the thought away. It didn"t matter. It wasn"t going to happen. It couldn"t happen. The reality of the situation was bad. Really bad.

With shaking hands and bitten raw lips, Jimin clicked the text bubble, taking a ridiculous amount of time typing because the fear of accidentally sending another fucking nude was very real and very prevalent. 

Jimin: 
I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. It was an accident, it wasn’t meant for you, I swear. I’m so sorry. I completely understand if you’re going to fire me from my aide position, or if I need to be removed from the class. I’m so sorry.

Professor Jeon: 
Why would I fire you? or remove you from my class? haha 

Jimin stared at the response, rereading it about five times, trying to process what he was seeing. His hands were still trembling, and his heart hadn’t slowed even a fraction, but somehow, Professor Jeon’s message was both horrifying and… confusing.

Was this a test? Some kind of trap? Or was Professor Jeon just so chill about it that he genuinely didn’t see this as a big deal? The haha threw Jimin the most—like this was just another day in the life of Professor Jeon, receiving accidental nudes from panicked students. The casual tone of it—haha?!—was somehow even worse than an angry or disappointed response. Did Jeon think this was funny? Did he think Jimin was funny? The panic bubbling in his chest turned into something else entirely—confusion, maybe, with a dash of humiliation.

Jimin frowned, his thumb hovering over his phone screen. He didn’t know how to respond. Should he apologize again? Should he try to explain himself? No—he’d already done that. Anything else might just make it worse.

His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he typed, backspaced, retyped, and hovered over the send button. His internal monologue ran a mile a minute: 

Finally, he forced himself to settle on a simple, awkward reply:

Jimin:
I just assumed it would be… inappropriate? Or like, against the rules or something.

Professor Jeon:
I know it was an accident. Accidents happen, Jimin. Don’t stress too much about it.

It was too late for that. The stress was already coursing through his veins like a lethal injection, and nothing—nothing—about this felt like a small, forgivable accident. Jimin could barely breathe properly, much less act like this wasn’t the most humiliating moment of his entire existence.

Professor Jeon: 
I can almost feel your meltdown through this phone lol. Relax Jimin. Don’t worry about it. You should probably just be more careful next time you’re sending nudes to someone. I’ll see you in class, have a good night. 

Jimin slapped a hand over his face, groaning loudly into his palm. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. There was no way the same man he’d been hopelessly crushing on for months—the man who made him nervous just by existing—had just said that to him.

What did he even mean? Relax? Relax?! How was Jimin supposed to relax when his literal professor—his walking, talking wet dream of a professor—was casually acknowledging the fact that Jimin sent him a nude?

And not just acknowledging it. Brushing it off. Like it was nothing. Like Jimin wasn’t spiraling in his bedroom. 

Jimin reread the message for the hundredth time, the words falling out of his lips beyond his control, near hysteria clawing at him. “You should probably just be more careful next time you’re sending nudes to someone.” Jimin repeated with exasperation. 

Did his professor think he was some shameless flirt sending nudes left and right? Did he think Jimin was just out here broadcasting his ass to the world?

The thought made Jimin cringe. He wasn’t like that. The photo had been for Taehyung—just a stupid, spur-of-the-moment request for feedback. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. But now it did. Now it had been seen by him.

Jimin set his phone on his nightstand with trembling hands, deciding against replying. There was nothing else to say, anyway. Professor Jeon had clearly already moved on, casually dismissing the entire situation in a way that left Jimin more flustered than relieved.

He flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. Pretend this never happened. Just go to sleep.

✩

“You sent him a what?!”

Jimin’s head snapped around, his wide eyes filled with panic as he smacked Taehyung’s shoulder. “Shut the fuck up! Why are you so fucking loud?!”

Taehyung stumbled a little but was already laughing, clutching his chest dramatically. “I can’t—oh my God—Jimin. A nude?!” He wiped at the corner of his eye as they kept walking, students milling around them on the bustling campus. “To Professor Jeon?! This is the best thing I’ve heard all week.”

“Stop laughing!” Jimin hissed, whipping his head around to make sure no one was ease dropped, not like anyone even was remotely paying attention to them but Jimin’s anxiety was sky high this morning. 

“It’s not funny, Tae! It’s literally the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Okay, but how?” Taehyung asked, his grin only widening as he sidestepped a group of students walking in the opposite direction. “How does this happen? Were you drunk? Sleep-deprived? Possessed?…oh my god. You did it on purpose, didn’t you? you little fucking slut—“ 

“No!—Jesus! shut the hell up!” Jimin groaned, dragging a hand down his face as they turned a corner, his hand swinging around to shove Taehyung again.  “I was sending it to you! you lunatic!” 

“Ohhh…okay. That makes more sense.” Taehyung said with a slow— stupid blink. 

“I wanted your opinion on it, but I accidentally clicked his name instead of yours, and before I realized—” He gestured wildly, nearly smacking a passing student. “It was already sent.”

Taehyung cackled, earning a glare from Jimin. “Oh, Jimin..that’s—wow. That’s incredible. This might be the most brilliant thing you’ve done all year.” 

Jimin raised his hand, ready to deliver another fruitless slap but Taehyung caught Jimin’s wrist quickly, tugging him along as they walked past the coffee cart Jimin usually stopped at but couldn’t bring himself to face today. “But seriously, what did he say? Did he freak out? Did he—oh my God—did he call you?”

“No, thank God,” Jimin muttered, keeping his head down as they approached the main building. “He texted me back. He said I should ‘relax’ and be more careful next time.”

Taehyung stopped walking again, this time taking Jimin’s hands in his own. “Wait, wait, wait—what? He said relax?”

“Yes!” Jimin said, yanking his hands free and power-walking toward the entrance.

Taehyung caught up, his lips quirking up like he was trying not to smile. “That’s it? He didn’t yell at you? Didn’t tell you to drop the class or anything?”

“No,” Jimin said, his face burning as he reached for the door. “He told me to have a good night.”

The grin finally broke free, wide and wicked. “Jimin. You know what that means right?”

“What?” Jimin groaned, pushing the door open and stepping inside. The quiet hum of the hallway greeted them, a few students scattered around waiting for their next classes.

“It means he totally jerked off to you.”

Jimin froze mid-step, eyes wide as the words sunk in. His jaw dropped, but no sound came out, his brain short-circuiting.

"You"re welcome," Taehyung added smugly, 
brushing past him like he hadn"t just detonated Jimin"s sanity in a single sentence.

Taehyung didn"t even stick around to face the aftermath. With a smug grin and a casual wave, he sauntered off toward his own class, leaving Jimin standing there like a glitching robot.

The classroom door loomed in front of him. It was the one place he was absolutely dreading, and now it was worse. Taehyung"s words had wormed their way into his brain, dragging with them an image Jimin had no business picturing: Professor Jeon, his tattoos flexing, his lip ring caught between his teeth, his gaze darkened, his hand wrapped around his—

Jimin blinked hard, shaking the thought away. He swallowed thickly, his fingers trembling as he tightened his grip on the strap of his bag. He wanted to turn around and disappear. Maybe fake an illness. Maybe just actually die.

But the classroom wasn"t going to wait forever. Students were still filing in, their chatter blending with the distant hum of the campus outside. He had no choice.

Keeping his head down, Jimin stepped through the door. Making a quick dash to his seat, choosing the seat in the farthest, corner of the room. 

Jimin blinked hard, shaking the thought away. He swallowed thickly, his fingers trembling as he took his seat. He wanted to shrink into his chair and disappear. Maybe he should have faked an illness. Maybe he should have just actually died. 

Jimin obviously, did not think he would get through the entire one hour class without having to look at his professor, but the minute he looked up and actually saw him— Jimin was very rudely reminded of why his crush even first bloomed. 

There he was, standing at the front of the room, effortlessly commanding the space.
Professor Jeon was explaining something to a student near his desk, his voice calm and measured, with just a hint of amusement in his tone. The light caught on his lip ring when he smiled faintly, and Jimin"s stomach twisted at the sight.

He wasn"t just handsome. He was unfairly handsome. The sharp jawline, the broad shoulders, the tattoos that peeked out just enough to tease the imagination-it all felt like some cosmic joke at Jimin"s expense.
Professor Jeon turned slightly, gesturing to something on his laptop, and Jimin"s eyes followed the movement. Jimin dragged his gaze back down to his desk, his cheeks burning. His pulse thudded in his ears, making it impossible to focus on anything else. Forty-five more minutes. Just forty-five more minutes.

But even as he tried to keep his head down, he couldn"t stop the thought from creeping in again-the one Taehyung had planted so carelessly that morning.

He totally jerked off to you.

Jimin"s pen slipped from his hand, clattering onto the desk. His head snapped up on instinct, and his eyes locked with Professor Jeon"s across the room.

For the briefest moment, their gazes held.
Jimin froze, his breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening as his professor"s eyes lingered just a second too long. 

A second long enough for Jimin’s entire face to burst into flames.

Professor Jeon smiled lightly. A small- kind and friendly smile that he always gave Jimin. And every other god damn student ever. 

Jimin tore his eyes away, his heart thudding so violently in his chest he was sure the whole room could hear it. He gripped his pen tightly, trying to focus on the faint scratches of students flipping through notebooks and the steady hum of the air conditioning. Anything but the fact that Professor Jeon had just smiled at him like nothing had happened.

That’s all it was, right? A normal smile. A polite smile. The kind of smile you give a student you’re indifferent to.

Jimin tried to convince himself of that, but the heat crawling up his neck told a different story. His brain refused to stop spinning, replaying the way their gazes had held just a second too long. It wasn’t anything. It couldn’t be anything. Professor Jeon was just nice. That’s it.

And yet…

The rest of the class dragged on like molasses. Jimin kept his eyes firmly planted on his notebook, barely registering a single word of the lecture. Every so often, he’d feel a prickle of awareness, like he was being watched, and his stomach would flip.

But he refused to look up. Absolutely refused.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Professor Jeon closed his laptop and dismissed the class.

Jimin was out of his seat in an instant, shoving his things into his bag with frantic, fumbling hands. He could hear the soft murmurs of students packing up around him, chairs scraping against the floor, but he didn’t dare look at anyone.

Just as he was slinging his bag over his shoulder, a voice stopped him cold.

“Jimin?”

His head snapped up so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. Professor Jeon was standing by his desk, his hand resting lightly on a stack of papers, his gaze fixed directly on Jimin.

“Yes, Professor?” Jimin’s voice came out too high, and he coughed awkwardly, gripping the strap of his bag like it was a lifeline.

“Could I see you for a moment?”

Jimin’s stomach plummeted.

This is it, isn’t it? he probably changed his mind. Professor Jeon probably woke up this morning and realized how out of line Jimin was and was about to break the news to him. It had to be. ‘Jimin you’re expelled for inappropriate misconduct. You’re also getting arrested for sexual harassment, have fun in prison!’ 

“Y-yes?” Jimin forced out, meeting his eyes, willing his body to not look away. It’d make it worse, wouldn’t it? not even being able to look at him? 

Professor Jeon’s expression remained calm, his lips quirking up into that familiar, polite smile that made Jimin’s knees feel like jelly. He gestured casually toward his desk.

“I was wondering if you’d be able to help me out again with grading some papers,” he said, his tone light and easy. “I’ve got a pretty full schedule this week, and it’d be a big help.”

Jimin blinked. Once. Twice. His brain stumbled over itself, trying to process the words. “Grading?” he echoed dumbly.

“Yes,” Professor Jeon replied, still smiling. “You’re usually pretty quick with it, and I trust your judgment.”

There wasn’t a trace of anything unusual in his tone. No tension, no awkwardness. He sounded exactly the same as always—calm, composed, and completely unaffected.

“Of course,” Jimin blurted, his words tumbling out too quickly. “I-I mean, yes, Professor. I can do that.”

“Great, thanks Jimin. I appreciate it.” Professor Jeon handed Jimin a small stack of papers, Jimin reaching out and taking it with tingly fingers. 

And just like that, it was over. Professor Jeon turned back to his laptop, already focused on something else, as if the interaction had been nothing out of the ordinary.

Jimin stood there for a second longer, his heart pounding as he waited for… what? Some kind of sign? A slip-up? Anything that would prove he wasn’t going insane?

Nothing came.

So he nodded quickly—though Professor Jeon wasn’t even looking at him anymore—and turned on his heel, practically running out of the classroom.

✩

Jimin lay belly down on his bed, feet kicking lazily in the air as he worked through the stack of papers spread out in front of him. His red pen scribbled quick notes in the margins, but his focus kept slipping, his mind replaying the events of the day on a constant loop.

His phone sat propped up beside him, on speaker. Taehyung"s familiar, dramatic voice rang out, filling the quiet of his room.
"So you"re telling me," Taehyung began, his tone dripping with disbelief, "that Professor Jeon-your sexy, tattooed, lip-ringed professor-didn"t even mention the fact that you sent him a full-blown ass pic? He just asked you to grade papers?"

"Yes, Tae," Jimin muttered, his face buried in his arm as he doodled a tiny heart in the corner of one student"s paper. "He acted completely normal. Like nothing even happened."

"Ugh," Taehyung groaned. "That"s so boring.
I was hoping for a scandal. Like, at least some subtle tension or a lingering look.
Maybe a little power play. You know, maybe a little..’Jimin, come to my office after class,"" he mimicked in a low voice, ""make sure you’re alone…’”

Jimin rolled his eyes, though his cheeks flushed as Taehyung"s words triggered an unwanted mental image. "Can you not?" he whined, scribbling more notes and flipping through another paper. 

"I"m just saying!" Taehyung continued, unbothered. "That man is sick. Like, how does he look at you, after seeing that, and not say anything?"

"Because he"s a grown man with sense,” Jimin grumbled, dragging a hand down his face. “Unlike you."

“So what? he’s a grown man sure, but any grown man that’s seen your ass literally drools. I mean— I drool! by the way, that was a spectacular— pic. I mean, ten out of ten, Park Jimin, can I hit?—“

Jimin burst out laughing, his forehead hitting the stack of papers as Taehyung’s obnoxious flirting filled the room. His body shook with laughter, and for a moment, the weight of the day felt lighter.

“Shut up, Tae,” Jimin said between fits of giggles, lifting his head just enough to wipe at his eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” Taehyung shot back, his tone mock-offended. “That ass should be in a museum. The Louvre. The Smithsonian. Hell, I’d frame it in my living room.”

“You’re impossible,” Jimin wheezed, still laughing as he scribbled half-hearted notes on the paper in front of him.

“And yet, you love me,” Taehyung quipped, his grin practically audible through the phone. “But seriously, Jimin. Don’t let Mr. Hot Professor fool you with his little ‘I’m so professional’ act. ‘The Park Jimin Effect’ is real— very real. And it works on anyone with sense.” 

“Goodbye, Taehyung,” Jimin said, his voice firm but laced with humor as he reached for his phone.

“Wait, wait!” Taehyung called out, laughing. “I’m kidding! Kind of. But listen, I’m just saying… if Professor Jeon starts asking you to stay after class for extra help, I better be the first to know.”

“Goodbye you freak!” 

“I know who else is a freak—“ 

“Hanging up now!” 

“Bye, babe,” Taehyung sang, and the call ended with his laughter still echoing in Jimin’s ears.

Jimin sighed, dropping his phone onto the bed after hanging up with Taehyung. The warmth of laughter still lingered, but reality crept back in as he turned his attention to the stack of papers in front of him. He propped himself up on his elbows, his pen in hand, and got back to work.

The quiet settled around him as the minutes turned into an hour. The red pen glided across the pages, leaving corrections and comments in its wake. Jimin’s mind wandered now and then, but he stayed mostly focused, determined to finish the stack before the evening was over.

Midway through marking a particularly messy essay, his phone buzzed beside him. Jimin rolled his eyes, a small grin tugging at his lips. Tae again, he thought, already bracing himself for another round of obscene flirting or ridiculous comments.

Jimin picked his phone up after dropping his pen, and fully prepared to see Taehyung lighting his screen up. 

It was not Taehyung. And Jimin swore his heart exploded in his chest in the very second his eyes narrowed in at: Professor Jeon. 

Jimin froze, his heart hammering in his chest. His fingers hovered over the screen, the words blurring slightly as a rush of panic surged through him. He felt like he might pass out right there, face-first into the pile of essays.

What does he want? Why is he texting me? It’s nearly one in the morning? is that even appropriate? Jimin’s mind spiraled as he stared at the notification like it was a live grenade.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he unlocked his phone, his stomach doing flips, his mouth impossibly dry, as he opened the message.

Professor Jeon:

Sorry! Sent this by accident.

Attached to the message was a photo. A shirtless photo.

Jimin’s hand froze, hovering over the screen as his breath hitched audibly in the silent room. His fingers trembled as he tapped on the image, the full-sized photo spreading across his screen like the gates of heaven had opened—though it felt more like hell because Jimin was absolutely not ready for this.

There he was. Professor Jeon. 

Shirtless.

The lighting in the bathroom was soft, highlighting the sharp lines of his collarbones and his chest— and holy fuck. Everything. He was sat on the floor, in front of a mirror, phone covering his face and that entire sleeve of tattoos on full— delicious display. 

Jimin swore he forgot how to breathe. His heart was racing so fast it felt like it might burst out of his chest, and his stomach flipped violently.

He squeaked. A real, high-pitched, undeniably girly squeak as his face turned the color of a tomato. He clutched his phone tightly, as if letting it go might somehow make the situation worse.

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

Jimin’s thighs kicked against the bed as he let out a muffled shriek into the mattress. His hands flailed a little, his feet still swinging in the air as if his body couldn’t physically contain the sheer volume of panic and excitement running through him.

Then his brain caught up with him. Wait.

Sent this by accident.

The words registered slowly, Jimin’s eyes narrowing as he reread the message. Once. Twice. A third time. His cheeks still burned, but his panic began shifting into something else—confusion.

This couldn’t be an accident. It was too large of a coincidence. There’s no way.

Professor Jeon had written it as a joke. Jimin realized it all at once, his heart pounding even harder as the implication hit him like a truck. He’s taunting me. He’s referring to my nude.

“Oh my God,” Jimin whispered, burying his face in his hands. His feet kicked again in a frenzy, a mixture of embarrassment, disbelief, and the unbearable giddiness of knowing.

His professor—the same man who had acted so fucking nonchalant this morning— the same man who barely spared Jimin a second glance— had just sent him a shirtless selfie. And it wasn’t a mistake. It was intentional.

The photo still lingered on his screen, and Jimin couldn’t stop his eyes from darting back to it, his stomach doing somersaults. He let out another muffled squeak into the mattress, his legs kicking furiously as his mind spun out of control.

What does this mean? Why would he send this? Is he—does he—

Oh fuck. This couldn’t be actually happening. 

And like an instant fuse lighting in Jimin’s brain— every whorish instinct in his body came alight. 

What did Taehyung say earlier? 

The Park Jimin Effect. 

Jimin sat up on his bed, both hands clutching his phone, knees digging into the soft blankets on his bed, eyes almost sparkling with a giddiness Taehyung would surely applaud. 

The nerves melted away, replaced by a spark of adrenaline that lit him up from the inside. If thats how he wanted to play, then so be it. Jimin’s lips curved into a small smirk as he started to type back. 

Jimin:

should i send you another accident? 

It was bold. Maybe too bold, but the message was sent and Jimin refused to think about it. 

Professor Jeon: 

That would probably make us even, right? 

Jimin: 

i think we’re already pretty even but we it wouldn’t hurt to be sure 

Jimin: 

Professor Jeon: 

Jesus fuck you have no idea what you do to me

Jimin:

tell me please? 

Professor Jeon: 

Or I could just show you. 

The photo stared back at him, bold and unapologetic. Jimin"s breath hitched, his eyes widening as his gaze darted over the image, his mind struggling to keep up.

His lips parted, a shaky exhale escaping as his cheeks flushed deep pink. Jimin felt a jolt shoot through him, his thighs instinctively squeezing together as the warmth spread downward. He shifted slightly on the bed, his body hyper-aware of the growing ache between his legs.

Oh my God.

His hand twitched against the phone as he stared, unable to look away. His chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths as his free hand drifted down, wrapping around his aching cock, giving it slow, lazy strokes. 

Jimin’s head falling back slightly as pleasure sparked through him. He bit down on his bottom lip, his teeth catching the soft skin as his thumb swiped clumsily over the phone"s keyboard.

Jimin tried to focus, tried to type something—anything—but his thoughts were hazy, overtaken by the rush of arousal coursing through him. His hand pressed harder against his cock, his hips rocking subtly into the touch as heat bloomed across his skin.

His lip quivered slightly as he let out a soft whine, his fingers faltering as he typed:

Jimin: 

you’re just as big as i knew you were 

Professor Jeon: 

This something you thought about before? what else did you think about Jimin? 

Jimin:

thouvht anout how heavy you’d feel in mh hand 

Jimin:

how good youd feel in m y mouth 

Jimin: 

how muchh i wish u would bend me me ovef ur desk and fuck me stupif 

The entire message thread was a mess of barely coherent sentences. Jimin barely thought as he was hitting send. One hand typing and the other hand furiously picking up the speed on his cock. The disgustingly vivid imagery of his professor bending Jimin over his desk and fucking Jimin until he was slurring his words and begging for mercy was maddening. It helped that Jimin now had a perfect idea as to what his professors cock looked like. Jimin had no shame as he stared at the photo. Wrist moving faster, thumb swiping across his glistening head as he let out whiny whimpers. 

He almost didn’t see the incoming call. 

Almost— just barely missed it. 

It was instinct. A reflex really, when Jimin immediately hit answered. 

"Hello?" Jimin"s voice was breathless, shaky, barely above a whisper.

There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched just long enough to make Jimin"s stomach flip.

“Are you touching yourself right now?" came the deep, familiar voice, smooth and calm despite the words coming out. 

The question sent a jolt through Jimin"s body, his hand twitching involuntarily against his cock. He swallowed hard, his cheeks burning as he bit his lip, wrist tugging up and down lazily. Jimin could hardly believe this was happening. Could hardly grasp the situation he was in right now. 
 

Texting your professor at all felt like walking a fine line. Sharing personal phone numbers was something people might side-eye but ultimately overlook. But sending an accidental nude? That should have gotten Jimin reprimanded at best, kicked out of the class at worst.

And now this? Sexting his professor. Jerking off to a picture of his professor"s cock. On the phone with him. This wasn"t just crossing a line-it was obliterating it.

He knew how this would look to anyone else.
A forbidden dynamic. A breach of trust. A relationship that shouldn"t-couldn"t-exist.
Jimin shouldn"t be doing this. Professor Jeon shouldn"t be doing this.

But Jimin couldn’t stop now. He wouldn’t stop. 

Because the fact that this— whatever this is. Was mutual. It was shared. It was wanted on both ends. The photos— a blatant reminder. Professor Jeon on the other end of a phone call— was a kick to the stomach. Or a throb in Jimin’s cock. 

He shouldn"t be doing this. Professor Jeon shouldn"t be doing this. But here they were, crossing a line they couldn"t uncross. And Jimin didn"t want to stop. Not tonight. 

Tonight, he could say fuck the rules. Fuck the consequences.

Because for the first time, it felt like his professor wasn"t just an unattainable fantasy.

"Of course I"m touching myself. It"s your fault," Jimin whined, his wrist picking up speed as he heard the sharp intake of air on the other end of the line. The sound sent a fresh wave of arousal through him, his cock twitching in his hand. There was rustling, the faint creak of leather, and Jimin was reminded that Professor Jeon was naked. Probably sitting on some couch, fisting his hard cock right along with Jimin. The fact was maddening, insanity inducing. 

"My fault?" Professor Jeon"s voice came through the speaker, hard and clipped, with an edge that bordered on mean. "I guess that makes us even now. Do you have any idea how much you fucked me over with that photo of you bent over? That perfectly-stupid, accident?"

The words cut through Jimin like a hot blade, leaving his chest heaving and his hand moving faster. The harsh tone, the controlled fury behind it, drove him wild. He bit his lip hard, his head tipping back as a shameless moan spilled from his lips.

His phone slipped out of his grasp, landing next to his ear as he focused entirely on the heat building in his core. His hand pumped up and down his length, the slick sound of precum amplifying the obscene pace. His other hand trailed up his flushed chest, fingers pinching and rolling over a sensitive nipple, the sudden stimulation ripping a high-pitched whimper from his throat. Jimin"s hips bucked upward, chasing the burning heat coiling tighter in his stomach.
He was losing himself in the haze, completely overwhelmed by the feeling, the sound of his professor"s deep, commanding voice still echoing in his ear.

"I-I d-don"t... what"d I do, Professor?" Jimin choked out, his voice breaking as another wave of pleasure rolled through him. His body arched off the bed, desperation lacing every word.

There was a beat of silence on the line, thick and loaded, before Professor Jeon"s voice came through, low and guttural.

“I was doing such a good job at keeping my composure around you. I was so— fucking good at pretending I wasn’t fantasizing about ripping your pants off and bending you over my desk— spanking that perfect fucking ass until you were begging for mercy,” 

Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut, his breath catching in his throat as the words hit him like a lightning strike. His thighs clenched, his wrist working faster as he chased the throbbing heat building in his stomach.

The vivid imagery his professor painted made Jimin’s whole body react, his hips jerking up uncontrollably into his hand. His chest heaved as he let out a high-pitched moan, completely unable to hold back the sounds spilling from his lips.

“P-Professor,” Jimin whimpered, his voice breaking, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he squeezed his cock harder, the stimulation sending him spiraling. His other hand tweaked his nipple again, the sharp sensation ripping another desperate sound from him.

“You like that, don’t you?” Professor Jeon continued, his voice calm yet scalding, every word hitting Jimin like a deliberate strike. “You’d come into class every morning— not having a single fucking clue how close I was to telling you to stay after class so I could pin you against a wall— you’d sit there, looking so perfect and so enticing— God, it felt like I was being punished,” Professor Jeon laughed at the end, breathy and soft and Jimin had to grip his cock tightly to stop the orgasm from exploding free. 

To think this entire time, Jimin thought his stupid little crush was one sided. To think that he thought Professor Jeon would never see him as anything more than another one of his students. 

How often did Jimin and his professor think about fucking each other at the same time? 

How many times did they make eye contact— hiding the near ravenous need- and want, behind polite smiles and casual glances. 

“And then I really— truly was convinced, I was being punished by some God looking down on me. You sent that photo- that God forsaken fucking photo and I- I can’t even explain to you what that did to me. I can’t begin to explain to you how hard my cock was— how heavy my balls fucking felt, how the urge to bend you over and fuck you until I couldn’t cum inside you anymore nearly drove me insane. Do you have any idea how much you’ve ruined me Jimin?” 

Jimin let out a choked sob, his hand moving faster, the slick, wet sounds filling the quiet of his room. His mind was spinning, the realization that he"d managed to shatter the control of someone like him-Professor Jeon—only driving his arousal higher.

“I can hear how wet you are, does it feel
good? talk to me Jimin. I need to hear your voice. Talk to me—“ 

Jimin"s head tipped back, a sharp gasp leaving his lips as his hips bucked wildly into the air. His wrist worked faster, but every few strokes he"d have to grip his cock tightly, forcing himself to take deep, shuddering breaths just to hold back the orgasm that was so, so close.

"You think I wasn"t dying every day I sat in your class?" Jimin choked out, his voice trembling, ragged. He could barely get the words out between moans, his entire body on fire, teetering on the edge.

Jimin could hear the far away groan from his professor. He could hear the rough slapping of skin, the heavy breathing and it only fueled him on. Only ignited Jimin’s body in flames that threatened to swallow him entirely. 

A low, guttural groan echoed through the phone, and Jimin"s body jolted in response.
He could hear it now-the rough slapping of skin, the labored, uneven breaths-and it made his own cock throb painfully in his hand. The knowledge that his professor was falling apart on the other end of the line only fueled the flames threatening to consume him entirely.

"It"s embarrassing," Jimin gasped, his voice breaking with every word, "how many times I came home after class and immediately fucked myself because of you. S-so fucking embarrassing how badly I wanted to feel your hands on me-your cock inside me, rearranging me so-so good. I wanted to do it right there, right in class, between periods. I wanted to walk around campus with your cum dripping out of me. My thighs all sticky and red from-"

"Where the fuck are you?" Professor Jeon cut in suddenly, his voice harsh and commanding, almost a growl.

"H-huh?" The question hit Jimin like a slap, catching him off guard. His breathing hitched, uneven and ragged, his cock twitching in his slick palm as he blinked down at his phone, furrowing his brows as if Jeon could somehow see his confusion.

"Where do you live?" Jeon repeated, his voice tight with desperation. "Please. Let me come over.”

The plea sent a shiver down Jimin"s spine, his body arching off the bed as heat exploded in his chest. His lips parted, a soft whimper escaping as his brain tried to catch up to what was happening.

The line didn"t exist. Jimin realized that now.
The line he thought he had crossed—the line they"d both pretended was there-didn"t fucking exist.

With trembling hands, his chest heaving, Jimin picked up his phone. His eyes squinted as he opened his messages, his fingers fumbling as he typed out his address and hit send.

The message lingered for only a second before the word "read" appeared beneath it.
Jimin barely had time to process it before the line went dead, the silence in his room thick and oppressive.

He sat there for a moment, his cock still throbbing painfully between his legs, every inch of his skin burning with arousal. His breathing was uneven, his thoughts scattered as he replayed what had just happened over and over again in his mind.

Then he moved.

Getting up on shaky legs, Jimin hissed as the ache in his cock intensified, the swollen, needy length brushing against the fabric of his shorts. He refused to finish-not yet. He wanted to wait for Professor Jeon. He wanted to feel everything, raw and unfiltered, when his professor finally touched him.

Stumbling to the small chest at the corner of his room, Jimin pulled it open, his hands rummaging through the assortment of toys he kept tucked away. His fingers closed around what he was looking for, his breath hitching as he pulled out a sleek butt plug. Jimin grabbed a bottle of lube from the chest, his cheeks flushing as he made his way back to the bed. Sitting down carefully, he coated the toy thoroughly, his fingers slick with the lube. 

Jimin didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to waste time with he finally got here. He was tethering on an orgasm that threatened to break him— and Jimin wasn’t going to risk losing that by stupid foreplay and prep. 

The intensity in which Jimin needed this was almost nauseating. Jimin couldn’t recall a single time he’d ever wanted someone so badly. Needed— someone so badly. 

He bit his lip as he bent forward, his free hand tugging his shorts down just enough to expose himself. The tip of the plug pressed against his entrance, and he gasped at the cold sensation, his body trembling with anticipation.

Slowly, he began to work it inside, the tight ring of muscles clenching around the intrusion as soft, desperate moans spilled from his lips. Jimin fought the overwhelming urge to rock his hips down, his free hand gripping the sheets tightly as he forced himself to take it slow. His legs trembled as the plug slid deeper, stretching him in a way that made him gasp and whine, his cock twitching angrily in the air. He wanted so badly to move, to grind down on the toy and chase the pleasure building inside of him-but he didn"t.

Jimin stayed strong, biting down on his lip as he pushed the plug in fully. He wanted his professor to see him like this, to know how needy he was, how badly he wanted this.

Sliding his shorts back up over trembling legs, Jimin crawled onto his bed, his chest heaving as he laid down on his back. The fabric clung to him, barely concealing the bulge of his cock and the faint outline of the plug inside him.

He closed his eyes, his breaths uneven as he fought to control the vicious beast of arousal clawing at him. Every second felt torturous, the anticipation unbearable.

Jimin blinked slowly, the edges of his vision blurring as the heaviness in his body pulled him under. He was pretty sure he blacked out for a moment. One second, he was waiting, his body thrumming with anticipation, and the next, a sharp knock at the door jolted him upright.

His heart plummeted into his stomach. The sound was so loud, so real, it was impossible to ignore. His chest tightened, his hands trembling as the realization crashed over him. 

This was it.

There was a second—a fleeting, heart-stopping second-where Jimin truly understood what was about to happen. When he opened that door, standing on the other side would be his professor. The man who had consumed every waking thought, haunted every fantasy.

Jimin"s body was tingling, his skin buzzing with desperation, his mind unable to keep up. He couldn"t think anymore. He didn"t want to think.

Turning his brain off, Jimin let his body take over, adrenaline and instinct pushing him forward. His feet carried him to the door in hurried, frantic steps. He reached for the handle with shaking fingers, hesitated for just a heartbeat, then swung it open.

And there he was.

The man who had plagued his thoughts for months. The man Jimin thought would forever remain a sick, perverted, unattainable fantasy.

Professor Jeon.

He was so used to seeing Professor Jeon in pressed button-downs and tailored slacks.
Hair styled to perfection, every strand in place, exuding authority and quiet composure. He was always so professional, so put-together, the very picture of control.

This, though. This was... different.

The man standing in front of him was nothing like the professor Jimin saw in class. His black wife beater clung to his chest, the soft fabric hinting at every curve of muscle. His jacket hung open, framing the wide expanse of his shoulders, and the loose sweatpants slung low on his hips, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination—

His damp bangs stuck messily to his forehead, the rest of his hair curling slightly with moisture, completely undone. Like he had showered, and barely bothered to dry his hair. His chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing uneven, his black eyes impossibly smoldering as they pinned Jimin in place. He looked flustered. Needy.

And it was so odd. So different from the image Jimin had built in his head. But God- was it fucking glorious. 

Glorious in a way that made Jimin"s knees weak, his body thrumming with arousal so intense it bordered on unbearable. It was the kind of glorious that made him want to drop to his knees right there and cram the entirety of the man in his mouth. 

Jimin"s cock witched violently, his aching length pressing against the flimsy fabric of his shorts. He let out one shaky breath, and Professor Jeon lunged forward. His larger frame closing the distance in an instant. No greeting, no hesitation-just raw, unrestrained need.

Jimin gasped as strong arms wrapped around his waist, lifting him clean off the floor like he weighed nothing. His legs instinctively wrapped around Jungkook"s body, hard lengths pressed together hard— the instant pressure had Jimin clutching onto his professors shoulders tightly— afraid that he might actually slip out of his grip. Jimin’s grip only had Professor Jeon tightening his hold on him.

It only took a millisecond of eye contact for their lips to come crashing together with enough force to obliterate everything around them. 

Jimin’s hands found their way to the back of Professor Jeon’s neck, his nails digging into the soft flesh, fingertips curling into the longer strands of hair at his nape. Their mouths moved together with frantic, unrestrained hunger, tongues slipping past each other’s lips as they moaned in unison, hot and panting.

Jimin’s back pressed against the cool wall of the entryway, the contrast of the cold surface and his overheated skin only amplifying the intensity of the moment. Professor Jeon’s hands gripped Jimin’s ass firmly, kneading the flesh as if he couldn’t get enough, his fingers spreading him open slightly. The pressure made Jimin’s cock throb painfully, trapped and twitching against the hard muscle of Professor Jeon’s stomach.

The position made it hard to rut properly, but that didn’t stop Jimin from trying. He rolled his hips instinctively, seeking any kind of friction, but it wasn’t enough. A frustrated whine escaped his throat as he clung tighter to Professor Jeon, his lips trembling against his professor’s as another moan slipped out.

Their cocks throbbed simultaneously, the shared tension building to a fever pitch. Jimin’s head was spinning, every nerve in his body on fire as Professor Jeon’s lips claimed his again and again. The slick sounds of their mouths meeting filled the small space, and Jimin’s breathing hitched as Professor Jeon’s teeth grazed his bottom lip, tugging lightly before diving back in.

Jimin’s fingers tugged on the strands of Professor Jeon’s hair, pulling him closer, their bodies flush as the desperation between them grew unbearable. His nails scraped lightly at the back of Professor Jeon’s neck, earning a low groan that vibrated against his mouth.

Finally, the need for more overtook him. Jimin tapped Professor Jeon’s shoulder, breathless and trembling. It took a second for them to pull apart, neither wanting to let go, but when they did, a string of saliva clung stubbornly between their lips. 

They stared at each other, flushed and panting, both painfully hard. Jimin’s lips were swollen and wet, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to steady himself.

Professor Jeon looked just as wrecked. His pupils were blown wide, his chest heaving as his gaze raked over Jimin’s disheveled state. His hands stayed on Jimin’s ass, holding him securely against his body and the wall, his thumbs brushing against the exposed skin of Jimin’s thigh just under the hem of his shorts.

“Fuck,” Professor Jeon muttered, his voice rough and low, almost guttural. “You’ve ruined me Jimin.” 

"Good. I need you to ruin me now. Please." Jimin"s voice was breathless, his words edged with a teasing smile as his plump lips curved just enough to drive Jeon wild.

Jimin"s hands slid down from the back of Professor Jeon"s neck, his fingers spreading across the hard muscles of his chest. His touch dipped lower, grazing over firm pecs until his thumb and forefinger caught one of Jeon"s nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Jeon hissed, his mouth falling open as his grip on Jimin"s ass tightened. So tight it earned a sharp gasp from him, the pressure pulling Jimin"s cheeks apart just enough to make the plug he"d nearly forgotten about shift inside him. The bulbous tip brushed against a sensitive bundle of nerves, sending a shock of pleasure up Jimin"s spine. Jimin"s eyes fluttered shut, his lips caught between his teeth as his cock throbbed, leaking profusely into his flimsy shorts. The sensation was almost too much, his body trembling as he let out a soft, needy whimper.

"Please, Professor?" Jimin whined out, his voice laced with need and a touch of mischief as he rolled his hips slightly, grinding down against Jeon"s cock.

The reaction was immediate. Jeon groaned deeply, his hands flexing on Jimin"s hips as his head tipped forward, their foreheads nearly touching. His dark eyes locked onto Jimin"s, smoldering and raw with desire.

"Call me Jungkook," he rasped, his voice low and commanding, but thick with unrestrained want.

Jimin"s breath caught in his throat, his lips parting as a fresh wave of arousal crashed over him. The sound of prof-Jungkook-saying that sent his mind spinning, his pulse pounding in his ears.

"Jungkook," Jimin repeated softly, his voice trembling as he tested the name, tasting it on his tongue. His eyes flickered with a mix of vulnerability and heat, his fingers sliding back up Jungkooks chest, Jimin’s fingers finding their way to grip Jungkooks jaw, firm grip that had Jungkooks head stilling, his breath hitching as they both stared at each other. 

Jungkook"s sanity snapped. The moment Jimin"s trembling voice uttered those words -"Please, Jungkook. Please fuck me. Please ruin me."—it was over. Whatever thin thread of restraint he"d been clinging to dissolved, leaving only raw, unfiltered need.

Without a word, Jungkook moved them off the wall, Jimin’s body clinging to Jungkooks tightly, as they moved through Jimin’s apartment as Jungkook tried to locate the nearest sturdy surface. Jungkook"s grip was firm, possessive, his breathing ragged as his eyes darkened further with every second. The kitchen island came into view, and in a swift, fluid motion, Jungkook set Jimin down, bending him ninety degree— over the cool marble surface.

His hands gripped Jimin"s hips firmly, holding him in place as his eyes roamed over the sight in front of him. Jimin"s legs quivered as he braced himself against the counter, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he waited, completely at Jungkook"s mercy. The tension between them was suffocating, charged with anticipation as Jungkook"s large hands slid down Jimin"s clothed back. 

With little patience, Jungkook gripped the waistband of Jimin"s shorts and practically tore them down in one rough motion. The flimsy fabric pooled at Jimin"s ankles, leaving him bare and exposed, his ass on full display.

Jungkook froze.

He hadn"t been prepared for what he saw-the sight of Jimin"s plump cheeks parted slightly by a sleek butt plug, gleaming faintly under the dim kitchen light.

"Holy fuck," Jungkook rasped, his voice thick with disbelief as his hands instinctively moved to grab Jimin"s ass, spreading him further. His fingers brushed against the base of the plug, and he swore he almost blacked out.

Jimin let out a soft, needy moan, his back arching instinctively as he raised his ass higher, fully aware of how good he looked from this angle. The jiggle of his flesh beneath Jungkook"s hands was obscene, mesmerizing.

Jungkook"s chest heaved, his breath catching as his palm slid down Jimin"s hips. Without thinking, he brought his hand back sharply, landing a hard smack against Jimin"s ass. The sound echoed through the kitchen, followed by the violent jiggle of soft flesh. Jimin cried out, the sting sending a shock of pleasure racing through him. His hands clawed at the cool surface of the counter, his head turning slightly to glance back over his shoulder.

The sight of Jungkook-his professor-standing behind him with wild eyes and parted lips, his hand raised for another strike, made Jimin"s cock twitch painfully.

"Again," Jimin whispered, his voice breaking as his eyes burned with lust. "Do it again."

Jungkook didn"t hesitate. His palm came down again, harder this time, the flesh rippling as Jimin"s body jolted forward. Jimin moaned louder, his toes curling as he pressed his chest against the counter and raised his ass higher, completely submitting.

"You like that?" Jungkook growled, his voice low and rough as he squeezed the reddened skin, his thumb brushing over the sensitive base of the plug.

"Y-yes," Jimin stammered, his voice trembling as he pushed back against Jungkook"s hand. "I-l know I look good. You like it too, don"t you?"

Jungkook let out a deep groan, his cock throbbing painfully in his sweats as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against Jimin"s ear.

"You have no idea," he whispered, his tone dark and dripping with hunger. "You"re fucking perfect like this."

Jimin whined and moaned, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as Jungkook’s hand came down on his ass again and again. His skin was stinging, burning, the fiery sensation spreading across his cheeks with every slap. And yet, it felt so good, each sharp smack sending jolts of pleasure shooting straight to his painfully hard cock.

Jimin’s body flinched forward with every strike, his cock rubbing against the cool marble of the kitchen island. The friction was maddening—just enough to tease, not enough to satisfy. His moans grew louder, more desperate, the sensation so overwhelming he felt like he might lose his mind.

The way Jungkook’s large hands controlled him, gripping and spanking with precision, made Jimin’s whole body tremble. His fingers clawed at the countertop, his thighs shaking as his cock twitched, dangerously close to spilling.

“Jungkook,” Jimin whimpered, his voice breaking as another slap landed, making his entire body spasm. 

Finally, Jungkook’s hands stilled. His chest heaved, his pupils blown as he took in the sight of Jimin’s reddened, jiggling ass, the glossy base of the butt plug glinting at him.

“Jesus christ,” Jungkook muttered, his hand brushing over the hot, sensitive skin. “Your ass is fucking perfect. So fucking fat.” As if to emphasize, Jungkook gripped the flesh tightly, Jimins hips shifting as he wiggled his ass slightly, arching it higher in an attempt to keep Jungkook’s hands on him.

But Jungkook had other plans. His fingers trailed down to the base of the plug, gripping it firmly.

Jimin’s whole body tensed. “W-wait—” he stammered, but his words were cut off by a sharp, breathless cry as Jungkook twisted the plug slightly, the sudden pressure against his walls making his eyes flutter shut.

“Oh my god,” Jimin gasped, his voice high and needy as his legs quivered beneath him.

Jungkook smirked, watching with dark, hooded eyes as he wiggled the plug again, enjoying the way Jimin writhed beneath him. "That"s better, isn"t it?" he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Can’t believe you plugged yourself up like this for me like a good little slut.” 

Jimin couldn"t respond, too lost in the sensation as Jungkook began to push the plug in and out shallowly. The stretch, the friction-it was exactly what Jimin needed, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

"Jungkook-" Jimin moaned, his voice trembling as his hips jerked involuntarily. The movement made his cock drag against the cold marble again, the dual stimulation driving him insane.

Jungkook"s free hand pressed down on
Jimin"s lower back, holding him in place as he worked the plug in and out. "Look at you," he said, his tone both amused and darkly aroused. "Humping the counter like a little bitch in heat. Does it feel that good, Jimin?"

Jimin let out a choked sob, his fingers clawing at the countertop as he rocked his hips helplessly. "Y-yes," he stammered, his voice muffled as he pressed his forehead against the cool surface. "Feels-feels so fucking good."

Jungkook chuckled, his grip tightening on the plug as he twisted it again, savoring the way Jimin"s body arched and his moans grew louder. "I could watch you like this forever," he said softly, almost to himself. "So perfect. So fucking desperate for me."

Jimin"s voice broke through the haze, slurred and high-pitched, barely coherent between his gasps and whimpers. "S-stop... stop, stop! I"m gonna cum-I"m gonna cum! Stop, Jungkook, don"t wanna cum yet, please."

Jungkook stilled immediately, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. His hands remained on Jimin"s trembling hips, his dark eyes focused on the way Jimin"s ass clenched around the plug, so needy, so ready.

But Jungkook wasn"t done.

Without a word, his grip tightened, and in one swift, rough motion, he yanked the plug out of Jimin.

Jimin cried out, his whole body jerking forward at the sudden emptiness. The stretch had been sharp, bordering on painful, but the rush of pleasure that followed had his legs quivering beneath him. Jungkook didn"t give him time to recover. Dropping to his knees on the kitchen floor, he spread Jimin"s reddened cheeks apart with both hands, his gaze zeroing in on the sight before him.

Jimin"s stretched hole glistened in the dim light, fluttering slightly from the loss of the plug. Jungkook"s mouth watered, his head spinning as he stared, completely dazed.

"Fuck," he murmured, his voice thick and low.
"Such a perfect little slut. Perfect sluts deserve to get their pussies eaten." He licked his lips, spitting obscenely on Jimin’s fluttering hold, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of Jimin"s cheeks. "Be good baby. Don’t you dare fucking cum.” 

Jimin could only manage a slurred gargle of words before his eyes were rolling into the back of his head, head falling down against the counter, cheek pressed flushed against the cool marble. 

Jungkooks tongue was hot and wet as it pressed against Jimin"s entrance, licking a broad stripe over the sensitive skin. Jimin let out a high, broken wail, his legs shaking so badly he thought they might give out.

Jungkook groaned against him, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight through Jimin"s core. His tongue circled the rim, teasing before dipping inside, pushing as deep as it could go.

"F-fuck!" Jimin sobbed, his fingers clawing at the countertop as his back arched involuntarily. His cock pressed painfully against the counter, throbbing and leaking steadily, but he forced himself to hold back. He couldn"t cum. Not yet.

Jungkook"s hands gripped Jimin"s cheeks tightly, holding him in place as he worked feverishly, his tongue lapping and plunging inside with a desperation that bordered on animalistic. He couldn"t get enough-the taste, the feel, the way Jimin"s body trembled under his touch.

"Fuck, you taste so good," Jungkook murmured between strokes, his voice muffled against Jimin"s skin. "Such a perfect pussy baby.” 

Jimin"s head spun, his body a trembling, overstimulated mess. He couldn"t stop the sounds spilling from his lips-high-pitched moans, broken whimpers, and desperate pleas. Every swipe of Jungkook"s tongue sent him closer to the edge, the pleasure so intense it bordered on unbearable.

"J-Jungkook-" Jimin gasped, his voice breaking. "I-I cant-S’too much-!"

But Jungkook didn"t stop. His tongue moved faster, more precise, diving in and out with a fervor that made Jimin"s whole body jerk. His nose pressed against Jimin"s flushed, sensitive skin, the obscene wet sounds of his mouth filling the kitchen.

"You can take it," Jungkook growled, his voice dark and commanding as he pulled back just enough to catch his breath. His hands spread Jimin wider, his tongue darting out to lick over the swollen rim again. "Be good for me, baby. Just a little more."

Jimin could only nod weakly, his body melting into the counter as he surrendered completely to the overwhelming pleasure.

Jimin was convinced he"d floated to another universe. It was the only explanation for how he hadn"t cum yet. His cock was swollen, an angry, bright red that throbbed painfully with every passing second. His legs were trembling so violently he could barely hold himself up, his body wracked with gasps and whimpers. His lips were parted, a string of drool slipping past as he struggled to form coherent words, lost in the haze of unbearable pleasure.

Finally, Jungkook pulled back, departing from between Jimin"s cheeks with a wet pop that echoed obscenely in the quiet kitchen.
Jimin"s head dropped onto the counter, a broken sob escaping his lips as his hole clenched around nothing, desperate for more.

Jungkook straightened, his dark eyes raking over the wrecked sight before him-Jimin"s trembling legs, his flushed, slick skin, the mess pooling beneath him. His gaze settled on Jimin"s face, fucked out and teetering on the edge of delirium, and a soft coo escaped his lips.

"I"m sorry, baby," Jungkook murmured, his voice low and soothing as he reached out to run a gentle hand down Jimin"s quivering back. "I got so greedy. I"ll make it better.
Don"t worry."

Jimin whimpered softly at the words, his body shuddering as Jungkook stepped back. He could hear the rustle of fabric, the faint shuffle as Jungkook pushed his sweatpants down and kicked them aside. The next sound—low and guttural-came when Jungkook"s cock finally sprang free, hard and heavy, glistening with precum. Jungkook spat into his hand, the slick sound sending a fresh jolt of anticipation racing through Jimin"s body. He slicked himself up quickly, his fist pumping over his length before settling behind Jimin once more.

"Be still baby," Jungkook murmured, his voice soft yet commanding as he pressed the fat, swollen head of his cock against Jimin"s stretched entrance. The sensation made Jimin gasp, his body jerking involuntarily as his hole clenched around the pressure.

But then Jungkook pushed in, and Jimin swore the world tilted.

The stretch was intense, almost overwhelming as Jungkook"s cock slowly breached him, inch by inch. Jimin"s back arched, his nails scraping against the countertop as he gasped, the sensation making his entire body tremble.

"F-fuck," Jimin stammered, his voice high-pitched as he felt the thickness of Jungkook"s cock slide deeper. "So big-so fucking big-"

Jungkook groaned behind him, his hands gripping Jimin"s hips tightly to hold him still.
"Pussies swallowing me so good baby," he said, his voice thick with arousal. "You’re so hot and soft baby. So perfect- like you were made for me. Made for my cock.”

Jimin"s hips bucked wildly, his body acting on pure instinct as he pushed back, desperate to feel all of him. His mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, every nerve in his body alight as he sobbed out, "Y-yes- yes, made for you— my pussy was made for daddy—“

And then it slipped out.

The word came unbidden, tumbling from his lips before he even realized it. His mind, too far gone, barely registered it, but his body burned with mortified heat the second it left his mouth.

The word hung heavy in the air, and then Jungkook slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt in one swift motion.

Jimin"s scream was a mix of pleasure and shock, his body jerking as Jungkook"s cock filled him completely, stretching him so perfectly he couldn"t think. Jungkook groaned deeply, the sound low and feral, his fingers digging into Jimin"s hips as he held him in place.

"Say it again," Jungkook growled, his voice dark and commanding as he leaned over Jimin, his breath hot against his ear. "Say it again, baby."

Jimin slurred his words, his voice barely above a broken whisper as his body quaked beneath Jungkook. “Fuck me, Daddy—ruin my pussy, please—”

The words hit Jungkook like a bolt of electricity, and his entire body stiffened for a split second before the last shred of his restraint snapped. A deep, guttural growl tore from his chest, primal and animalistic, reverberating through the room like thunder.

Without hesitation, Jungkook slammed his hips forward, his cock plunging into Jimin with a force that made his ass bounce violently against him. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed obscenely in the kitchen, mingling with Jimin’s incoherent moans and Jungkook’s feral grunts.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed, his voice rough and low as his hands gripped Jimin’s hips hard enough to leave bruises. His movements were relentless, his hips snapping back and forth in an unyielding rhythm that sent shockwaves through Jimin’s body.

Jimin was gone—completely incoherent, reduced to a drooling, whimpering mess. His cheek was pressed against the cool marble countertop, a trail of saliva slipping from the corner of his lips as his eyes rolled back into his head. His thighs trembled violently, his body trembling as the overwhelming pleasure consumed him.

His legs spread wider apart instinctively, desperate to take Jungkook even deeper, to feel every inch of the cock that was ruining him. “S-so good,” Jimin sobbed, his voice muffled against the counter. “Daddies—cock-feels so good—”

Jungkook’s growls deepened, his hands sliding down to grip the soft flesh of Jimin’s ass, spreading him wider as his cock pounded into him with ruthless precision. The fat of Jimin’s ass jiggled violently with every thrust, the sight driving Jungkook to the brink of madness.

“Look at you,” Jungkook growled, his tone rough and unrecognizable, consumed by the primal need coursing through him. “Taking my cock so fucking well. Your pussies just as greedy as me. Swallowing daddy up so good.” 

Jimin could only moan in response, his words a garbled string of nonsense as his mind spiraled further into delirium. His nails clawed at the counter, his entire body arching as he pressed back into Jungkook’s punishing thrusts.

Jungkook’s grunts and groans grew louder, more primal, each thrust harder than the last as he chased his own pleasure. The violent, unrelenting rhythm left him barely able to recognize himself, his usual composure obliterated by the raw, carnal desire coursing through him.

Jimin felt the tension in his body coil tighter and tighter, every nerve ending sparking as Jungkook’s cock hit deeper with each thrust, grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him. He sobbed loudly, his back arching as he chanted incoherently, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy—”

Jungkook gasped, his thrusts turning erratic, each one harder and deeper as he chased his release. Jimin could feel it—feel the way Jungkook’s cock twitched and stiffened inside him, the telltale sign of what was about to happen.

Jungkook’s voice was broken and desperate, his pants rough in Jimin’s ear. “Cum with me, baby,” he groaned, his grip on Jimin’s hips tightening. “Cum on Daddy’s cock—cum with me—”

The words sent Jimin over the edge. His entire body locked, his back arching sharply as his toes curled. His mouth fell open, but no sound came out—just a silent scream as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him.

At the same time, Jungkook buried himself to the hilt, his cock kicking violently as hot, sticky cum spilled inside Jimin. He groaned loudly, his head tipping back as his vision blurred and darkened at the edges. His hands dug into Jimin’s hips, holding him flush against him as he released load after load, filling him to the brink.

Jimin’s cock, trapped between his stomach and the counter, spasmed uncontrollably. Ropes of cum sprayed everywhere, streaking the smooth marble surface as his entire body shuddered with the force of his orgasm.

The sensation of being filled so completely, combined with the intensity of his own release, sent Jimin spiraling. His vision flashed white, his mind blanking as he trembled beneath Jungkook, unable to do anything but ride the overwhelming waves of pleasure.

Jungkook’s thrusts slowed, his body jerking involuntarily as he rode out his orgasm. Cum spilled from Jimin’s stretched hole, hot and sticky, leaking out even with Jungkook still buried inside him. The sight was obscene, filthy, and it sent a final jolt of arousal through Jungkook’s body as he panted heavily against Jimin’s back.

"Jesus Christ," Jungkook whispered, his voice hoarse and strained as he pressed a trembling kiss to the nape of Jimin"s neck.

Jimin could only whimper, his body limp and trembling, utterly wrecked. His cheek rested against the counter, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, his legs shaking so badly he wasn"t sure how he was going to stand up. 

Jungkook stayed inside him for a moment longer, savoring the closeness, before slowly pulling out. The motion caused another gush of cum to spill from Jimin, dripping down his thighs and onto the floor. Jungkook"s gaze darkened as he watched, his hands smoothing over Jimin"s quivering hips.

Jungkook’s breathing was still uneven, his chest rising and falling as he gently kissed Jimin’s shoulder. He let his hands stroke Jimin’s trembling hips, grounding them both for a moment before murmuring, “Baby, where’s your bathroom?”

Jimin’s voice was tiny, hoarse, still coming down from the high as he mumbled, “Down the hall, to the right.”

Jungkook didn’t respond, didn’t say another word. Instead, he bent down, sliding an arm beneath Jimin’s knees and the other around his back. In one smooth motion, he scooped Jimin up into his arms, cradling him princess-style as if he weighed nothing at all.

Jimin gasped softly at the movement, his body instinctively curling into Jungkook’s hold. His head rolled to the side, settling against Jungkook’s broad shoulder, and he let out a small, content sigh.

His mind was hazy, floating somewhere between exhaustion and bliss, but he vaguely wondered how Jungkook was even functioning right now. His body had been just as wrecked, trembling with the force of his release, and yet here he was—strong, steady, holding Jimin like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Jimin felt too comfortable, too perfect in Jungkook’s arms to question it further. His eyelids fluttered shut as he pressed his cheek against the warmth of Jungkook, letting the rhythmic sway of his steps lull him deeper into a trance.

Jungkook carried them down the hall and into the bathroom. The soft hum of the fan greeted them as he stepped inside, his steps careful and deliberate as he made his way to the tub.

He set Jimin down gently on the toilet seat, his hands lingering for a moment to make sure Jimin was stable before turning away.

Jimin blinked up at him, his lips slightly parted as he watched Jungkook move to the bathtub. The sight of him half naked, shirt and jacket still on— just like Jimin was almost funny. Jimin watched Jungkook move around his bathroom, the sight unbelievable despite what they just did. 

Jungkook turned on the faucet, the sound of rushing water filling the room as he adjusted the temperature. His hands moved with purpose, testing the heat before letting it run.

Jimin’s gaze softened, his chest tightening as he realized what Jungkook was doing. It wasn’t just about the intimacy they’d just shared—it was the care, the quiet tenderness in the way Jungkook treated him afterwards. 

Jimin didn’t know what he was expecting to be honest. He wasn’t think much at all before this whole thing happened, and he definitely wasn’t thinking during it. But at the very least— he didn’t expect this surely. The aftercare, the tenderness, the softness. 

“You don’t..you don’t have to do this. It’s okay, really,” 

Jungkook paused, his hands still testing the water temperature, before slowly turning back to Jimin. The look he gave him was so drenched in are you serious? that it caught Jimin off guard, making him laugh nervously.

Jungkook shook his head, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips as he sank down onto his knees, right between Jimin’s legs. His hands slid up to rest on Jimin’s bare knees, his thumbs brushing lightly against his skin.

The shift in energy was instant. Jimin froze as Jungkook tilted his head, meeting his gaze with an intensity that made his heart stutter.

“If you thought I was just going to pull my pants back up and leave after that—after everything—” Jungkook began, his voice soft but steady. “Park Jimin, you’ve offended me.” He chuckled softly at the end, the sound warm but tinged with something deeper. Jimin shrank slightly, his shoulders curling inward as a blush crept up his cheeks.

“Sorry,” Jimin mumbled, his voice barely audible. His gaze dropped for a moment before flickering back to Jungkook’s, hesitant and unsure. “I just—I don’t know what I expected. I assumed this would be just a… quick thing for you.”

The words hung heavy between them, laced with an insecurity that made Jimin cringe internally. He hated the way they sounded, hated the vulnerability they exposed. But he couldn’t help it. After all the heat, intensity, and raw need they’d shared, he was left feeling… uncertain. Nervous. Anxious.

What did this mean?

Were they supposed to go back to the way things were before? Pretend this never happened? Would Jungkook just disappear, returning to being Professor Jeon, the untouchable figure who made Jimin’s chest ache in a way he could never explain?

The thought made Jimin’s stomach churn, the fear gnawing at the edges of his euphoria. But before he could let it spiral further, Jungkook’s voice cut through the haze, steady and blunt.

“Jimin,” Jungkook began, his tone calm but firm, “I didn’t risk my career for a quick fuck.”

The crudeness of the statement caught Jimin off guard, making his lips quirk into a small, involuntary smile. It was so stark, so straightforward, that it managed to break through the lingering tension in his chest.

“I think we both know how serious this could be,” Jungkook continued, his hands still resting firmly on Jimin’s thighs, grounding him. “For both of us. If this got out.” He paused, his dark eyes locking onto Jimin’s with a seriousness that made Jimin’s heart race. “I wouldn’t have risked everything for someone I didn’t want badly enough.”

Jimin’s breath caught, his eyes widening as he took in the weight of Jungkook’s words. His heart pounded in his chest, the sincerity in Jungkook’s voice ringing in his ears.

Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

Jungkook’s expression softened slightly, his hands squeezing Jimin’s thighs gently as he spoke again, his voice lower this time. “I want you, Jimin. I’ve always fucking wanted you.”

Jimin’s chest tightened, his throat constricting as the words settled over him like a warm, heavy blanket.

“Our situation isn’t ideal,” Jungkook admitted, his tone carrying a hint of frustration, “but I want to try. I want to try so badly… only if you want to try as well.”

The vulnerability in his voice made Jimin’s heart ache. This was the same man who had just reduced him to a trembling, incoherent mess—powerful and commanding in a way that left Jimin breathless—and yet, here he was, laying himself bare, giving Jimin a choice.

“And if you don’t want anything more—that’s okay,” Jungkook said softly, his voice steady despite the tension in his expression. “I understand if you don’t want anything else. I won’t hold it against you. I understand if you’d want to withdraw from my class—”

Before he could finish, Jimin lunged forward, his lips crashing against Jungkook’s with a passion that knocked the wind out of him.

Jungkook froze for a split second, caught off guard by the force of it, but his body reacted before his mind could catch up. His hands instinctively gripped Jimin’s thighs as he tilted his head upward, meeting Jimin’s fervent kiss with equal intensity.

Jimin’s arms wrapped around Jungkook’s neck, pulling him closer. The kiss was desperate and raw, their lips moving together with unrestrained urgency. Jimin poured everything he couldn’t say into the kiss—the confusion, the fear, the longing, and most of all, the overwhelming need for Jungkook.

Jungkook groaned softly against Jimin’s mouth, his hands sliding up to grip Jimin’s waist. Their breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, as they kissed like the world was crumbling around them.

Jimin broke away just enough to whisper, his voice trembling but certain, “I don’t want to leave your class. I don’t want to leave you.”

The words sent a rush of relief coursing through Jungkook’s chest, his grip on Jimin tightening as he leaned forward, capturing his lips again in a kiss so tender yet powerful it made Jimin’s knees weak.

“Good,” Jungkook murmured against Jimin’s lips, his voice low and rough. “Because I was prepared to get on my knees and beg.” He chuckled softly, his breath warm against Jimin’s mouth.

Jimin’s heart soared at the words, his chest tightening with an emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. His fingers tangled in Jungkook’s hair, his lips curling into a soft smile as he rubbed his nose against Jungkook’s. The gesture was so affectionate, so sweet, that it made both of them laugh quietly.

“No need for that,” Jimin whispered, his voice light but filled with a warmth that made Jungkook’s heart skip a beat.

Their laughter melted into softer moments, kisses peppered across lips, cheeks, and jawlines, each touch filled with a quiet tenderness that felt worlds away from the raw intensity they’d shared earlier.

Eventually, Jungkook pulled back slightly, his gaze soft as he ran a thumb over Jimin’s cheek. “Let’s get cleaned up, baby,” he said gently, his hand sliding down to lace his fingers with Jimin’s.

The water was soothing, easing the lingering tension in their muscles as they settled against each other. Jimin sat between Jungkook’s legs, his back resting against Jungkook’s chest as the older man lazily ran his hands over Jimin’s arms, shoulders, and back, washing him with gentle care.

But Jimin wasn’t content with just relaxing.

He turned slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye as he shifted in Jungkook’s lap, his hand trailing down Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into an amused smile.

“Jimin…” he warned, though there was no real threat in his voice.

Jimin grinned, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Jungkook’s lips before moving lower, his breath ghosting over Jungkook’s damp skin. “Let me,” he murmured, his voice sweet yet firm. “Please.”

Jungkook’s chest heaved as he stared down at him, the warmth of the water doing little to mask the heat that flared between them. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, but he didn’t stop him.

By the time they got out, dried off, and slipped into pajamas, the earlier heat had faded into a warm, easy comfort. Jungkook borrowed a spare set of pajamas from Jimin-slightly loose on Jimin, but fitting Jungkook just right.

They crawled into bed together, the room dim and quiet as they settled beneath the covers. Jimin nestled close to Jungkook, resting his head against his broad shoulder, the steady rhythm of Jungkook"s heartbeat soothing him.

Jungkook pressed a final kiss to Jimin"s head, his voice a soft murmur as his eyelids grew heavy. "Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight," Jimin whispered back, though Jungkook had already drifted off, his breathing slow and even.

Jimin lay awake for a little while longer, savoring the warmth and the comfort of being wrapped in Jungkook"s arms. He didn"t know what lay in store for them-didn"t know how they"d make this work, or if it even could.

Jimin was going to try. He was going to try so fucking hard. 

✩

Taetae: 

jiminnnnnnn can i come over im bored and hobis bf just got here 😒 im sick of this shit 

Jimin: 

yesh jus giv e me a bit 

Taetae: 

….whats going on 🤨 

Jimin: 

um 

Jimin: 

Taetae: 

PARK DUCKING JIMING RDNFNTB

Taetae: 

CHAT IS RHAT AI

Taetae:

JIMIN JIMIN JIMIN JIMIN FUCK 

Incoming call from Taetae 

Accept    Decline