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it started with the dress, how did it end-up like this

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Jimin loves variety shows. He loves how people look at him all the time, how they all laugh at his jokes, how they smile at him, but most importantly, how the members seem to constantly praise him. It’s never been a secret, he likes the praise. He likes it when people acknowledge his hard work, and loves how it makes him feel. Like molten lava is coursing through his veins, the pleasurable hum just beneath his skin, and the absolute desire to preen.

This is completely different.

“Woah, Jimin-ssi,” the MC exclaims loudly as Jimin makes his way through to the stage where everyone is sitting.

He can feel everyone’s eyes on him and he fights the urge to cover himself and run. The lace is uncomfortable on his skin, making him itch to get the dress off him. The stockings he can ignore, they’re probably the least bothersome aspect of the outfit, but he hates how restricting the top of the dress is.

But he ignores it, sucks it up, and walks out with his best attempt at a smile.

It’s his punishment after all, as soon as they stop filming, he can take the horrible maid outfit off and never wear it again.

“Doesn’t he have the nicest legs, Jeongguk-ssi,” he hears Taehyung tease him, hears the joke in his voice, but Jimin can’t stop the way he looks down as his face burns up.

This is the part he hates, how much he loves hearing how good he looks in a maid outfit . He knows he looks good, he does well to take care of his body and work out, so yes he has nice legs and abs. He’s no Jeongguk, but he’s happy with the way he looks. But this outfit— it’s different.

He felt the change in himself as soon as he saw his reflection. The dress is a standard black and white, but the way it makes his skin nearly glow made something catch in his throat, an emotion he didn’t really want to name.

His eyes followed the way the dress accentuated his curves, from his waist down to his hips and then flares out. Jimin knows he isn’t curvy, not in the way he’d like anyway, but the dress makes him feel nearly perfect. With the dainty headband and the stockings that go all the way up to his thighs, Jimin feels cute— feels dainty in a way that he’s never felt before.

It’s addicting.

The MC keeps talking but Jimin can’t make out the words. He forces himself to stay present, to pay attention to what’s going on around him, but his ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. Everything around him is muffled, the lights, the voices, the people, all but the dress.

His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest, palms are sweaty as he clutches onto the ruffles around the skirt of the dress, but he reminds himself to stay in the present.

“That’s all for tonight! Thank you all for joining us today!”

He vaguely hears the MC ending the show, the clapping all around him and it spurs him into action. It’s as if autopilot turns on, Jimin grins and bows in thanks, clapping and thanking the staff as he goes, following the rest of his members out.

As soon as the cameras are off him, he feels like he can breathe. He makes a beeline straight into the changing room and nearly rips the outfit in half in his haste to take it off.

“Woah, Jimin, slow down,” he hears from behind him before he feels a pair of hands come around and hold his hands in place, keeping him from getting to the zipper in the back.

He knows the voice well. The lazy drawl never fails to make his tummy flip.

“S-sorry, hyung,” he stutters, hands stilling under Yoongi’s warm palms.

Yoongi clicks his tongue before he releases Jimin’s hands. His arms no longer listen to his brain. He needs to get out of the outfit, but his body doesn’t care. Instead his arms flop down uselessly, giving Yoongi free range to unzip the outfit.

It’s as if time stands still. He can see Yoongi standing behind him through the mirror, see the way his eyes are trained on the zipper and Jimin knows he’s being weird, but he wants to squirm away while at the same time curl into Yoongi’s form and seek the affirmation he desires. He feels practically naked underneath Yoongi’s gaze, as if he knows how Jimin feels. As if he knows how much Jimin loves it, how pretty and dainty he feels.

Yoongi pulls the zipper at the back of his dress carefully, slowly most likely to keep from tearing the fabric, but Jimin feels different. He doesn’t normally feel like this, small and special under Yoongi’s care, but at the moment he can’t deny the way he wants to curl into Yoongi’s body and earn more of Yoongi’s pretty words.

He wants to feel Yoongi’s touch all over his body.

The zipper glides down his back easily. Jimin holds his breath, body tense as he feels the material falling away from him, leaving his back exposed. For a split second, he thinks he feels a warm touch brush down his spine, but the next moment, it’s gone. Writing it off as a figment of his imagination, he holds the dress up with one hand and turns around.

“Thank you, hyung,” he whispers, unable to speak loudly.

There’s an undecipherable expression on Yoongi’s face. His dark eyes are trained on him, pinning Jimin down with their intense gaze. A full body shiver wracks down his body, making his eyes flutter and strangely enough, his cock twitch in his pants.

“Right,” Yoongi coughs, looking down at his feet before looking Jimin up and down one last time. With a jerky nod, the older man walks away, pulling the curtain shut behind him and leaving Jimin on his own to finish changing.

It takes him a minute for his limbs to respond again and for his heart to stop doing weird flips. He turns back around, looking at his reflection one last time, admiring the way the dress makes his hips look fuller, the way it makes him look soft and curvy, pretty in a way that he normally isn’t. The managers yell on the other side, reminding them of the rest of their schedule of the day and bringing Jimin back to reality.

He shakes himself off and changes, leaving the dress on a hanger on the mirror. With one last glance back, he pulls the curtain back and brings joins the others.



Days pass after the dress incident, but Jimin can’t keep himself from thinking about it. He practices harder, pushes himself until his arms are shaking and his legs feel like jello. No matter what he does, he can’t get away from the thoughts.

Every night, in the safety of darkness and the comfort of his bed, his brain reminds him how the lace felt on his skin, how tight it felt around his shoulders and how pretty he felt. More than the dress itself, he thinks about how small and dainty he felt and forces himself to ignore how much he wants to feel that again.

It’s almost as if the stylist notice and just know. They give him soft, large sweaters to wear, play up his cute image and while he complains and asks for a more manly image, that little part inside him wants to curl up happily on the couch and feel soft and cared for. He hates it, hates how much he wants Yoongi to look at him again, look at him the same way he had when he unzipped Jimin’s dress, dark and intense while touching him carefully.

Jimin does his best to resist, to keep himself from thinking about it and focusing on what he’s good at, but when he goes on twitter, everything changes.

It’s not common for them to search themselves up. He knows there are all kinds of people out there, saying all kinds of things about him, some nice but some not so nice. After he posts a picture of himself though, he goes through and searches himself up, wanting to know what people say.

As soon as he clicks on the search button, his eyes widen at the top post.

He’s so pretty and soft lately. Wouldn’t he look amazing in these soft panties? The bow in the back just makes it perfect. He’d be the prettiest princess.

Alongside a picture of himself, there’s a picture of someone wearing lacy pink underwear. Jimin’s mouth goes dry, eyes darting around the dark room for a moment before focusing back on his phone screen as he clicks on the photo to enlarge it.

The picture is tame, just some panties and stockings, but his hands feel clammy and his heart is racing in his chest. The small part of him that loves this comes rearing to the forefront of his brain, kicking and screaming until Jimin acknowledges how much he wants it.

He can imagine it now, how the fabric would feel against his skin, how it would hug his cheeks, how it would make him feel.

Hands shaking, he pulls up a search engine and searches for panties. It’s almost as if he’s working off autopilot, as if his body is doing things without his permission.

It’s not long before he’s pulling up a site full of different kinds of panties. He scrolls through the options, looking at colors and materials before he sees a pair that seem to call out to him. They’re a soft pink, similar to his hair color, but it’s the cut of the fabric that draws him in. They’re small, cutting half way down the model's cheeks and up to her hips, making her curves stand out.

He clicks the ‘add to cart’ button without thinking, inputing in his information and buying them before he can second guess himself. It takes him a few minutes to calm down, to process what he did and he has to bury his face in his pillow as he squeals, a mix of excitement and fear blending in together.

He spends the rest of the night looking at different panties, giggling at the more intricate ones and adding the pretty ones to his wish list.

Before long, the sun is peeking through his window and his alarm is going off.



In a way, Jimin wishes he could have forgotten about the order maybe that way it wouldn’t have felt like years before they show up, but he can’t.

It takes two days for the order to ship. He gets a shipment confirmation and a tracking number and he suddenly can’t think about anything but the panties. He checks the shipment obsessively, sometimes even twice a day in the hopes that it magically makes it’s way over to him faster.

It doesn’t.

When they do arrive, it’s a week later. He gets the delivery confirmation email but he’s out all day, practicing and then filming. It’s not until that night that he gets to come home, rushing to get the package and then claiming the bathroom for a shower.

Thankfully, no one questions him, too tired to really care.

He takes the large envelope and rips it open, unsure about how else to open it. The packaging is simple, plain black and nondescript, but as he takes the panties out, he suddenly feels his body start to shake.

The fabric is as soft as he’d hoped, smooth and almost buttery but it stretches nicely. He itches to put them on, to see how they fit, but instead he sets them down and hops into the shower. The hot water feels amazing against his sore back. The pressure works through his muscles and helps him relax, releasing the tension from the day and leaving him squeaky clean by the time he shuts it off.

He’s methodical about drying himself, making sure his hair isn’t dripping before he’s turning to his clothes. He had no idea how to pick his size for the panties, knowing that he’s gonna need some more space in the front but at the same time, he didn’t want them too big so they don’t fit right.

Sighing, he grabs the panties softly, carefully stretching them out and stepping into them. They fit snugly, a little tight around his ass but he can tuck himself in perfectly along the front. The lace trimming isn’t nearly as itchy as the maid uniform had been, instead it sits along the seam lightly, teasing the skin along the edges.

His heart thumps in his chest loudly, filling his ears with the sound of his blood rushing all over his body. He feels tight, small and compact. Delicate, almost.

The mirror is fogged up with the effects of the shower, but he yearns to see his reflection. He’s quick to wipe it down, and when he does catch his reflection, he freezes.

“Oh,” he whispers, reaching out to the mirror slowly, scared to disturb the image.

The panties fit just the way he wanted them to, just above his hips to make him look curvy. They give him the illusion of a small waist and large hips, just the way the models looked and he’s left in awe. He doesn’t recognize his own reflection.

The blush on his face is bright, whether from the heat or his feelings he doesn’t know, but it compliments the look perfectly. His damp pink hair falls down across his forehead, creating a halo of pink by his face, framing his wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

He’s glad his muscles are no longer as prominent, covered by a layer of skin which softens out the former hard lines. Instead of hard muscle looking like a stark contrast against the pink panties, soft lines trail down.

He lets his fingers trace his biceps with shaky hands, watching his reflection as he does so. He circles around his nipple, watching as it puckers up and then trailing down his abdomen, around is abs and dipping into his bellybutton lightly.

By the time he arrives at the panties, he realizes he’s hard. Mind racing a mile a minute, he tries to think of when he got hard, why he’s hard, but in the end, it really doesn’t matter. He’s standing in his foggy bathroom, watching his reflection as he appreciates his body in a pair of pink panties. It doesn’t matter when he got hard, but rather, that he is hard.

He debates it for a moment, unsure whether or not he should touch himself, if it’s weird that he touches himself.

Need outweighs his embarrassment.

Like how he let his fingertips trace his muscles, he lets them trace the outline of his cock, playing with his head, peaking out of the band, and watches in rapt fascination as his whole body comes to light. As soon as he touches himself, as he gives in to temptation, he suddenly feels the burn of arousal licking at his gut, curving through his body and calling out to him.

He keeps the panties on, unwilling to take them off so soon after he put them on, and touches himself. The bathroom is quiet aside from his breathing, almost making his actions seem obscene.

His hand doesn’t stop rubbing though, tracing his length, dipping down to caress his balls, and then going back up to touch his weeping head. He’s wetter than he’s ever been, producing so much precome he’d be embarrassed about it any other time; but right now, looking at the way the panties turn into a darker color because of his precome— because he’s wet, it makes him feel light and airy.

He’s wet, just like a girl could be.

The thought echoes in his head, ringing over and over as he touches himself. He’s just like a girl now, touching himself and wearing pretty panties that make him feel dainty.

Before he knows what’s happening, his hand speeds up and feeds the burning fire in his gut, pushing and pushing until he’s convulsing, hurling over the edge of bliss and nearly crying out with how good he feels.

The orgasm is like nothing else he’s felt, molten heat coursing through his body, from his toes all the way to his eyes. He squeezes them shut, too far gone to keep them open, to stay aware of his surroundings. All he can focus on is the pleasure crashing over him in waves, pulling him deeper and deeper under until he aches with how good it feels, with how much he wants someone to see him, how much he wants to hear a raspy voice whispering in his ear how pretty he looks, how good he is, calling him princess.

He nearly collapses when he’s done, falling onto the sink and panting into the mirror. Everything feels hazy, good and warm. He stays like that, hunched over the sink until he can feel his legs again.

As he straightens he frowns, noticing that he’s made a mess of his panties. He loved the way he looked and felt in them, but now, the come has made them wet, sticking to his skin uncomfortably and there’s a fear sitting low in his tummy that he’s going to stain them.

They need to be perfect.

It’s almost as if he can’t get out of them fast enough, sliding them down his legs and tosses them into the sink. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know how to handwash anything, let alone delicate underwear, so he settles with soaking them, squeezing the water out, and tucking them in his dirty clothes.

He doesn’t know how long it takes, but by the time he’s walking out of the bathroom, the mirror is no longer foggy and Jeongguk is standing outside of the bathroom.

Softly, he pads into his room, placing his dirty clothes in his hamper carefully. He makes sure the panties are well hidden, tangled in his shirt and reminds himself to do laundry soon.

He still feels soft though, needy and clingy but he doesn’t want to bother them. Especially doesn’t want to bother Yoongi, who he knows will be upset if he wakes Yoongi up. Instead, he slips into a large sweater, one of Yoongi’s that he borrowed not too long ago, and curls up in bed, hugging himself tightly. Bringing the collar of the sweater up to his neck, he buries his nose in the material, humming happily as he smells Yoongi, his deodorant, cologne and something else mix. The scent calms him down, makes his heart slow in his chest, and a small smile to grace his features.



Jimin never realized the intricacies of cleaning delicates.

He’s never had an issue of cleaning nice clothing, or being scared of something stretching or tearing in the wash, but as he’s kneeling in front of his washing machine, holding his panties, he’s suddenly lost.

Should he be hand washing them? Is there a specific mode he should be using on his washing machine?

He tries searching it up on his phone, but the answers are inconclusive. Some say to hand wash all undies, some say that some fabrics need specific attention while others do not, some even go as far as to claim dry cleaning is needed, but by the end of his search, Jimin decides to toss it into his washing machine.

He sits and waits in front of the machine, playing with his phone and watching as his clothes get washed until it beeps, loudly announcing that it’s done. He’s quick to switch them to the drier, pulling out the clothes he needs to hang to dry and sets the drier to the delicate setting.

The drier takes longer than the washing machine. Each minute feels like forever to Jimin, dragging on and on until he’s bouncing his leg up and down with the nerves. He just wants to finish washing his clothes. He wants to see his panties, make sure that they’re okay, that they’re not stained or stretched or ripped and it’s driving him a little crazy.

Just as the machine beeps, he hears Jin’s voice calling out his name. Jimin groans loudly, torn between taking his clothes out and going straight to Jin to see what he needs. He settles on a happy medium.

He pulls the clothes out easily, tossing them into his hamper and leaves them half done. Keeping the lid open, he glances at his clothes once before running to the kitchen, going straight to Jin.

“What’s up, hyung?” Jimin asks as he’s walking in.

Jin turns from the refrigerator and smiles, “I just need to know what you’re going to do for food tomorrow. I’ve got some leftovers you can take with you if you want?”

Jimin nods his head gratefully, smiling and thanking Jin before going back to his laundry.

His heart falls to his tummy as he walks in. Yoongi’s standing over his laundry, holding the pair of pretty pink panties in his hand questioningly, letting them hang over his finger as he examines them.

He doesn’t say anything, instead, he holds them out to Jimin and lifts an eyebrow.

“I-I found them laying around! I thought they belonged to Jin or something. You know how he’s bringing girls around and stuff” Jimin blushes and stutters, doing his best to give Yoongi a believable excuse.

Yoongi still doesn’t say anything, watching him carefully with his piercing stare. Jimin feels his skin crawling with nerves, praying Yoongi doesn't question him further.

Thankfully he doesn't. Yoongi drops the panties into Jimin’s basket and he rushes to take the rest of his clothes out of the drier and stuffs them inside the basket before practically running out of the room.



For a while, Jimin expects the other shoe to drop, for Yoongi to corner him and ask him more about the panties. He’s made up a million scenarios in his head, ways he could talk himself out of whatever Yoongi’s thinking, but nothing came.

Little by little, he starts getting more comfortable with his panties. At first, he puts them on at night, waking up in the morning and admiring the way he looks before showering and changing. He can’t help but feel self-conscious about it, thinking that people will look at him and just know, but that itch goes away.

His collection grows a little, he becomes the proud owner of two pairs. He gets a bit more bold, wearing them when he goes out to eat, just for a few hours. He’s always careful not to wear them too often, knowing that he changes a bit, he’s more needy and docile but he also knows he can’t be putting that on people who don’t know. He can’t expect things from the others, when they don’t know what it is he needs. It also doesn’t help that whenever he wears the panties, arousal simmers in his tummy, waiting for his time in the bathroom, where he can watch and touch himself until he comes.



“Park Jimin!” Taehyung complains loudly, banging on the door. “You’ve been in there for hours. We’re just going to dinner, come on before the hyungs get impatient.”

Jimin knows for a fact he hasn’t been occupying the bathroom for that long, maybe half an hour, but he needs time. He’s been staring at his panties, the pretty pink ones, and debating whether or not he should slip them on tonight or not.

They’re going out to dinner, happy to have time off and treating themselves to restaurant food, but he doesn’t know how long they’ll be out.

Taehyung knocks on the door again, yelling about hogging the bathroom and Jimin huffs loudly. Shaking his head, he slips the panties on, breathing deeply as he runs his fingers over the material before he’s tugging on his jeans and pulling on his sweater. He looks at his reflection, running his fingers through his hair and deciding he likes the way he looks— soft.

Jimin opens the door, and unsurprisingly, Taehyung is standing on the other side, rolling his eyes and stepping into the bathroom.

Taehyung is quick in the bathroom, sharing it with Jeongguk as they mess with their outfits before joining Jimin in the living room.

“Are we all ready?” Yoongi drawls from the couch, looking at them impatiently.

Taehyung nods his head, looking over at Jimin and smiling, “We were waiting on his highness over here but we’re all done.”

Jimin pouts and pokes Taehyung in the side, “I didn’t take that long!”

Taehyung and Jeongguk both laugh, making Jimin frown a bit. He didn’t think he took that long, but as he looks down at his feet, he starts to think maybe he should have taken less time. Guilt simmers in his tummy, making it roll uncomfortably before he feels Taehyung’s arm wrap around his shoulders and pull him into a hug.

“It’s okay, Jiminie,” he consoles, nuzzling his head into Jimin’s hair, “you’ve always been a princess, and we love you for it.”

Jimin feels the way his face burns, hands going clammy at the word.

Princess .

Shaking himself out of it, Jimin looks up and sticks his tongue out. “Shut up,” he snipes back, doing his best to force down the blush on his cheeks and ignore the way his heart is pounding in his chest.

He playfully shoves Taehyung, not putting too much energy into the motion and giggles as Taehyung just pulls Jimin closer.

“You love me,” Taehyung declares.

Jimin rolls his eyes but he doesn’t deny it. He loves his best friend, even if he does hate him sometimes.

As they file their way out of the dorm and into the van, he feels eyes boring into his back, making the hair at the back of his neck stand up. As he looks back, he catches Yoongi’s eyes, watching him and it makes him feel something.  

He smiles, small and hesitant before he’s turning back around and curling into Taehyung’s warmth. He feels Yoongi’s eyes throughout the night, watching him carefully and Jimin doesn’t know what to do with that. So instead, he focuses on himself, on having a good time, and enjoying himself.



The next time he decides to wear his panties out, he pushes himself to wear them all day. Their schedule is light, only dance and singing practice, so he thinks it’s a good choice.

The only thing that he hadn’t taken into consideration was that with practice, his shorts keep slipping down. Normally, he doesn’t care, he’d let them hang around his hips comfortably and call it a day. But now, he knows his pretty panties peek out, bright color standing out against the black shorts and he really doesn’t want the others asking questions.

Something feels different throughout the day, maybe it’s the fact that he’s wearing them all day, maybe it’s the fact that he’s busy and mobile, but he feels different. Whenever the members talk to him, he listens carefully, not once fighting or bickering. He curls into Hoseok, wordlessly asking for attention, for hugs, and when Namjoon compliments him, he hides his face in Namjoon’s chest.

He knows it’s weird, knows that he’s acting differently, but he feels different. He doesn’t have to think about how to act or how to respond, it comes naturally, and he likes it. He likes the way he feels and wants more.

When he gets home, he locks himself in the bathroom and stares at himself. He’s wearing his red panties, lace and much thinner than his pink ones. The color contrasts beautifully against his skin, deep and in a way, sultry. As he looks at his reflection, he feels different, like something is missing.

Hands shaking, he pulls out their make up stash. He looks at his reflection, debating whether or not he’s actually going to do this, if he’s going to put it on, but Jimin knows deep down that he wants it.

Swallowing down the apprehension, he goes for it. Taking out the eyeshadow, he does his best to replicate what he’s seen done on himself. It takes him a while. He wants it to be perfect, to make him look the way he feels. He bites his lip as he concentrates, holding the brush a little too tightly as he tries to blend everything and does his best not to move abruptly as he works.

When he sees himself again, the finished product, something clicks in his chest. It feels right, like he’s completing the look, and he can’t help but think he looks hot . The dark shadow gives him a sultry vibe, paired with the red panties hugging his hard cock— he wants to be fucked like this, he wants someone to curl up around him and spread his cheeks, and fuck him.

He can’t help himself, looking at his reflection, he can’t help but picture what it would be like to show Yoongi this, to have his dark eyes on him, watch him. Even though a part of him is embarrassed by how much he wants something he probably shouldn’t, he feels breathless at the thought of Yoongi seeing him like this, of Yoongi possibly liking Jimin like this, complimenting him and calling him princess .

By the time he touches himself, Jimin only needs two strokes before he’s coming in his hand, biting on his bottom lip to keep himself quiet.  He cleans himself after, making sure to shower and wash all of the come off his body before he’s taking one last look at his make up. It’s not the best he’s worn, not by far, but overall he doesn’t think he did a bad job.

Seeing himself with make up feels different. It’s not uncommon, in fact, he’s grown used to wearing make up regularly. What feels different though, is that he’s wearing the panties. The make up paired with the panties, feels like a different world, like he’s a different person, just for a little while.

Shaking himself out of it, he cleans the bathroom, making sure there’s not a single trace of what he’s done before slipping into his pajamas and walking out of the room.

Exhaustion hits him as he enters his room. He smiles at Hoseok, already laying in bed and groans at the prospect of putting his clothes away. Instead of hiding his panties the way he usually does, he tosses them in the first open drawer full of his clothes and promises he’ll put them away properly in the morning.



It doesn’t hit Jimin until he’s looking for the panties, several days later, that they’ve been moved.

Panic ceases his chest, making his heart pound in his chest as he wrecks his brain trying to remember where he last placed them. He checked the top drawer, he checked his laundry, but they’re nowhere to be found.

Instantly, he feels bare, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. He can’t imagine what the others are thinking, who could have found them.

He spends the day watching them, trying to see who’s acting differently, but nothing strikes him out of the ordinary. Taehyung is just as handsy, eager to play and cause trouble while Jeongguk is happy to be dragged along into Taehyung schemes. Namjoon remains calm and on target, pushing through their schedules and keeping them on track while Hoseok is a ball of energy the way he usually is. Jin does his own thing, focused on getting the dance right and he even pulls Jimin off to the side to confirm the order, the power of the dance and Jimin is sure that it’s none of them.

The only person left is Yoongi, the one person he’d hoped would never find out.

There’s not much of a difference with Yoongi. He keeps his distance from Jimin, not beyond normal, but Jimin doesn’t stop feeling the pair of eyes following him everywhere. What does change, is the fact that Yoongi doesn’t hold his gaze, instead, looks at the ground or even at the wall, avoiding Jimin’s eyes like the plague.

Days pass and Jimin notices how Yoongi does his best to keep himself from being in a room with him, going so far as to walking out and rescheduling their recording sessions so that Namjoon is with them.

At first, Jimin assumes it’s not a big deal, that maybe Yoongi is just being Yoongi, needing space and time, but after a few weeks of the same behavior, he feels like he needs to talk about it. Although he’s never been particularly close to Yoongi, he didn’t realize how much he relied on Yoongi’s quiet presence to calm him, to make him feel safe.

A part of him likes Yoongi, more than he should, he knows that, but the main part of him, really just wants everything to be okay between them. He doesn't want to cause friction. He doesn’t want to create drama, and he definitely doesn't want to make Yoongi uncomfortable.

It takes him a while to figure out how he’s going to do it, how he’s going to talk to Yoongi without him running away. First he tries after practice, calling Yoongi over and claiming to want to work together on the choreography, but Yoongi evades him, claiming he has an important meeting to get to. After that, Jimin tries to catch him in the dorm, but no matter what he does, Yoongi is sleeping.

In the end, he ends up cornering Yoongi in his studio. He overhears Hoseok complaining to Namjoon about Yoongi holing himself in his studio, and Jimin takes the opportunity that he sees. Claiming he’s going to take food over, make sure Yoongi is keeping himself healthy, Jimin nearly runs over to the building.

As he arrives at the door, clearly marked Genius Lab, he checks on the food, making sure it’s not a mess in its containers, before he’s knocking on the door and taking a step in.

Yoongi turns, eyes widening for a moment before he looks back at his computer.

“What’s up, Jimin?” He asks, voice laced with exhaustion and Jimin nearly rolls his eyes at Yoongi’s horrible habits.

He clears his throat before he approaches, setting the bag of food on Yoongi’s desk carefully before turning to look at him.

“I heard you haven’t eaten,” he says, trying to build up to what he’s really trying to say, “and you’ve been avoiding me so I thought we could talk.”

Yoongi turns abruptly making Jimin flinch, “Jimin, we’re fine.”

Jimin knows they’re not fine. Not with the way Yoongi’s acting and the guilt eats at him. He doesn’t want to be the cause of something like this. He doesn’t want to make things awkward, so he knows he needs to change it, to fix it himself.

“Hyung just let me talk please,” Jimin says, looking at Yoongi pleadingly.

Thankfully, Yoongi nods his head, sighing reluctantly and makes a gesture for Jimin to continue.

“I’m sorry for what you saw,” he mumbles shyly, “or at least, I’m sorry if you did see them. I swear I’m not involving anyone in it or something, it’s just me. I just really like them, okay hyung? I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or something but I just really like it.”

His words come out faster than Jimin can process, just spitting out the first thing he can think of and hopes for the best. Yoongi just sits in his chair, fiddling with his hands as Jimin speaks but he doesn’t say a single word.

“I really like it hyung and it’s not like I wear them all the time or anything! I swear it’s only sometimes and I don’t want to weird you out about it either but basically I’m really sorry you saw my panties and I really hope we can move past this.”

Jimin’s blushing hard, glancing between his feet and Yoongi’s feet as he waits for Yoongi’s reaction, for him to say something, anything and each moment feels like a lifetime.

By the time that Yoongi does say something, Jimin’s heart is racing in his chest and his hands feel clammy, too nervous to do just about anything.

“I’m not weirded out,” Yoongi mutters, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair and standing. “Okay no, maybe little, but not the way you think. It was my fault I saw them, I swear I wasn’t going through your stuff on purpose but I wanted to borrow one of your white shirts and I saw them and I can’t un see them now. It’s like the image is burned into my eyeballs and everytime I look at you I think of them and just— ugh, I’m sorry Jimin, I’ll get over it eventually.”

Yoongi’s words are slow and measured, as if he’s tasting each word before he says it and Jimin listens carefully. He doesn’t mind that Yoongi went through his stuff, it wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last, but knowing that Yoongi did see them makes the embarrassment burn through his face. He wants to go hide, curl up in bed and never come back out, but at least he knows that Yoongi isn’t mad at him.

“I’m sorry you can’t stop thinking about it,” Jimin replies quietly, “I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Yoongi huffs, pacing the length of the studio. “Stop apologizing, Jimin. I don’t feel uncomfortable. I’m the one that should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Jimin freezes, confused suddenly at the turn of their conversation, watching Yoongi carefully as he speaks, “What do you mean you’re not uncomfortable?”

Jimin barely catches the hints of a blush on Yoongi’s pale cheeks before he’s turning around and sitting down on the couch.

“I think you’d look really fucking pretty in them, okay?” Yoongi huffs, staring down at the floor.

Jimin shivers as he hears the words come from Yoongi’s lips. His mind draws a blank, unable to voice any thoughts. Limbs feeling tingly and uncooperative, he just stands there, staring at Yoongi with wide eyes, probably looking more like a deer in headlights than anything else.

He can’t fight the blush on his face, so he doesn’t try. Instead, as soon as he feels like he can breathe again, he runs his hand through his hair and laughs. It sounds more strangled than anything else, tense and awkward, but it’s a step forward.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, looking down at the ground.

The need to leave, to hide in his bed and never come out, gets stronger with each passing moment, pushing and pushing until he feels like he’ll suffocate if he stays in the room any longer.

“I-I’m gonna go, hyung,” he mutters, taking a step towards the door before looking at Yoongi, “it’s late and I’m tired. Uh, I hope you like the food? And um, please don’t stay out too late.”

He doesn't stay long enough to hear Yoongi’s response.



Their dynamic changes, returning to what they had, but in a way, evolving too. Now that Jimin knows that Yoongi didn’t mind it, that he thinks that Jimin would look pretty in his panties, he feels a certain kind of confidence grow in his chest.

He loves how he looks in them, but knowing that it’s not just him who thinks he looks great in them, gives him a confidence that nothing else can. Knowing that Yoongi, the boy whose opinion has always mattered so much, thinks that Jimin would look good makes Jimin feel bold.

Still too scared to wear them, he keeps the panties hidden in the back of his drawers, far away from any prying eyes and right next to the strawberry lube he bought not too long ago. He looks at them every night, touches them and reminds himself that he will wear them again. He just has to feel ready.

Yoongi doesn’t mention the panties again, and neither does Jimin. Their relationship somehow becomes less about what they had, the comfortable sense of coexistence they had before, and more about how they grow together.

Although they don’t go out of their way to spend time alone, Jimin notices the way Yoongi finds ways to compliment him. He notices the way Yoongi sticks by him, making sure he’s eating and taking breaks. Every time Jeongguk teases Jimin he hears Yoongi’s voice compliment him for something after, even for the most mundane things. It never fails to make Jimin feel good, like he’s worth something. Hearing Yoongi compliment him, dote over him, makes him want to return the attention and care.

It becomes a pattern, Jimin listening for Yoongi’s compliments, smiling and blushing hard when he gets them, and then fighting the urge to curl in on himself with how happy he feels.

That feeling, the one that Jimin gets every time Yoongi gives him attention, it makes him feel like he’s invincible— as if he can fly or be anything he wants to be, because Yoongi’s supporting him.

The crush he felt once, has taken over his body, making him do crazy things. He hasn’t stopped smiling, feeling too happy constantly. Yoongi makes his heart flutter with something as simple as a smile. So Jimin does the same; he makes sure that Yoongi goes home at normal times, makes sure that an iced americano is waiting for him in the morning, he even makes sure that he has a beanie on hand for when Yoongi’s ears get cold.

Jimin knows that what he has with Yoongi is different than what he has with all the others, but he also knows that it’s still young, that they both need to nourish and care for it for it to grow.


The next time he does slip the panties on, it’s when they’re on break.

He has the room to himself, and unlike what he had done before, he wants to explore himself a bit more. He shaves his legs, leaving them smooth to the touch and he preens as he looks at his legs in the mirror. Taking his time, he gets to know his body, cracking open the strawberry lube and fingering himself until he comes all over himself.

He wears the panties again the next day, sated and cozy and instead of the usual impatience and arousal, he feels soft and needy. In his bed, surrounded by a warm sweater and soft blankets, he feels relaxed.

Then he remembers Yoongi’s words.

His mouth goes dry as his brain repeats Yoongi’s words, ‘ I think you’d look really fucking pretty in them, okay?’ , and the sudden need to check, to see if he does, goes straight to his head.

Shifting around in bed, he gets his phone out. Turning his body multiple ways until he gets the right angle, he snaps a picture, hearing the click before moving around and taking another one. He repeats the process multiple times, taking more pictures than he probably should, all without looking at a single one. He doesn’t need to see them, not yet anyway, not before he has all of his angles and possibilities taken.

When he feels like he can’t take any more, he sets his phone down and huddles back in his bed, hiding his face in his blankets and breathing. He wants to look at the pictures, wants to see if he looks good, if he looks pretty , but at the same time he’s scared. It’s not a rational fear, it’s not like he’s scared of not looking pretty, but there’s an underlying anxiety lying just beneath his skin that makes his hands shake as he hides in his bed.

It takes him several tries to get the phone open. He closes the camera app and brings up his photos.

What he sees makes him feel light headed. The sun shines through the window softly, making the picture look like it’s glowing itself, framing Jimin’s form well and allowing just the smallest hint of his panties to peek through just beneath his sweater.

He flips through them all, deleting the one he doesn’t like and staring at the ones he loves. His favorite, by far though, is the one where he’s laying on the bed, curling his legs up and focusing on his panties, the way they hug his cheeks and thighs. There’s a small hint of the sweater, the hem having ridden up as he was shifting around over and over again, but it’s not a lot.

It looks like he’s wearing nothing but panties.

His skin looks golden in the picture, soft to the touch and the more he looks at it, the happier he feels. His hands are nearly shaking as he pulls up the action menu, pulling up the messenger option, and clicking on Yoongi’s name.

Heart racing in his chest, he waits until he gets the delivery confirmation before he’s locking his phone and shoving his face into his pillow.

He stays in bed, heart racing in his chest and nerves eating at him as he waits for his phone to do something, anything to signal that Yoongi has responded in any way.

The last thing he expects is a phone call.

In his haste to grab the phone, he fumbles around nearly dropping his phone down the side of the bed closest to the wall. He’s nervous as he accepts the call, bringing it up to his ear, but he does it anyway.

“Hyung?” He greets, voice small and hesitant as he waits for Yoongi to say something.

The line is quiet for a moment, nothing but Yoongi’s breathing coming through before he makes a noise, startling Jimin.

“I was right,” he rasps, sounding like he hasn’t spoken in far too long, “you look beautiful in those.”

Pleasure ripples down Jimin’s body and he does his best to hide the happy squeal that leaves his lips in his blanket, bringing it up to his face and hiding his mouth.

“Really? You think so?” Jimin asks, voice barely above a whisper in the empty room.

He hears some rustling on the other line, Yoongi readjusting maybe, before he responds.

“Yeah. Your skin too, it looks so soft,” he continues, voice getting an edge to it that Jimin can’t quite place, “I wish I could touch you.”

Jimin doesn’t know what to say, too overwhelmed by the situation to say much aside from the way he breathes a quiet, ‘hyung’ into the speaker.

Yoongi groans loudly, but something tells Jimin that he’s not in pain.

“I can’t believe I actually get to see it,” Yoongi continues, his breathing getting more shallow, “those are the perfect pair of panties for you. ”

Each word that Yoongi says does something to Jimin, coils a pressure in his tummy and going straight to his cock. He hasn’t touched himself yet, unsure as to what the protocol for that kind of behavior is, but he can already feel the damp material of his panties sticking to his skin.

“You really do look like a princess,” Yoongi slurs, and Jimin barely makes it out.

His reaction is immediate, his whole body twitching as he moans loudly. He squeezes his eyes shut, a bit embarrassed by the sound that came out of him, but he doesn’t stop his hand from going straight to his cock and stroking himself.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, and in that moment, it clicks in Jimin’s mind that Yoong has probably been touching himself throughout their whole conversation.

“You like that?” He hears Yoongi call out through the speaker, “Being called princess?”

Jimin bites at his bottom lip, nodding his head quickly. It takes him a moment to realize Yoongi isn’t actually in the room with him, that Yoongi has no way of seeing Jimin, so he forces himself to swallow his suddenly too dry mouth before replying.

“Y-Yes,” he whispers, voice low and fragile, too similar to the way he feels.

Yoongi groans again, followed by a wet noise that Jimin can’t identify. The groans Yoongi makes goes straight to his cock, pulling the arousal pooling there into high gear.

“God, you’re so pretty, princess,” he whispers, “so fucking pretty that I can’t stop thinking about you, all the time.”

Jimin makes a weak broken sound, pulling a pillow up against his cock and takes himself out of his panties. He rocks himself slowly, feeling the glide of the pillowcase against his wet cock and savoring the friction. It doesn’t take him long before he’s fucking himself against the pillow, a constant stream of whimpers and moans escaping his lips.

“H-Hyung,” he whimpers, too far gone to let embarrassment keep him from knowing, “are you touching yourself right now?”

It’s probably a stupid question, he can hear the noises Yoongi’s making and he knows for a fact that they’re not casual noises, but he wants to know for sure. He wants to know where Yoongi is at, how he’s touching himself, what that picture led him to do.

Shit , yeah,” Yoongi answers after a moment, panting into the phone, “I can’t help it, you make me feel crazy. You just look so pretty and so soft. Fuck, I-I wanna touch you so bad right now, feel your thighs around me.”

“Oh m—” he moans into his pillow, burying his face deep into it as he feels himself falling over the edge, whining pitifully into the speaker as he fucks himself through his orgasm.

Vaguely, he hears Yoongi moan followed by wet noises and panting making Jimin think that they both finished. He lays there, limbs limp as he tries to process what happened. A bright smile blooms on his face, too pleased by Yoongi’s words to feel worried about anything.

“Next time, will you wear them for me, princess?” Yoongi asks after a moment, and Jimin blushes hard, face burning with it but he wants it.

With a quiet, “Okay,” Jimin hangs up the phone and squeals loudly into his soiled pillow.



Knowing that Yoongi wants to see Jimin in panties makes him nervous yet again. Suddenly unsatisfied with the two that he owns. He wants to make Yoongi happy, wants to please, but he also wants to wow him. He wants Yoongi to be speechless and to love it.

He goes through his wishlist on the site, pouring over all of his options over and over again, trying to figure out which ones to buy, and after days of nervously trying to pick, he narrows it down to a top ten and just buys them all.

It takes him another week to decide on what to wear. Instead of focusing just on the panties, he decides to match it with pretty stockings. The day he knows he’s going to do it, he texts Yoongi, asking him to please stay in his room and wait for him.

He decides on a pair of pink panties, similar to his very first pair but these are complete lace, trimmed with black lace along the edges. To finish the look, Jimin digs up the white stockings in the back of the box and puts them on his freshly shaved legs carefully, making sure to keep the bows in the front but also even.

Staring at his reflection, he talks himself into finally leaving the bathroom, wearing the robe he needs more for confidence rather than modesty and almost runs into Yoongi’s room. The rest of the members are out, he knows that, but there’s still something about walking around looking the way he does, that makes him nervous. He’s so quick to get into Yoongi’s room, he doesn’t even knock, barging in and standing there awkwardly until Yoongi smiles.

From the moment he steps in, Yoongi’s eyes have been glued to Jimin, watching him carefully. However, instead of feeling embarrassed, Jimin feels warm on the inside. He stands there for a moment, clutching his robe tightly before he takes a deep, steadying breath and he goes to unknot it.

He hears Yoongi’s sharp inhale and his body reacts almost instantly, blushing. He smiles shyly, staring at the ground until he hears Yoongi’s soft words.

“Baby,” he whispers but doesn’t move, “fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Jimin craves Yoongi, feels like he needs to touch him to soothe the tumultuous feelings rumbling in his belly.

“Y-Yeah?” He asks quietly, looking up at Yoongi briefly before smiling some more and turning so that he can show his cute butt off.

“You like it, hyung?”

He sees Yoongi shift, the way he touches himself for a moment before settling down. Jimin finally gets the confidence to look up, to meet Yoongi’s eyes, and the dark gaze nearly keeps him where he is.

It’s the way that Yoongi’s hand reaches out for a moment before he drops it, that makes Jimin take a step forward, approaching Yoongi. Thankfully, he stays where he is, sitting on the edge of his bed, as Jimin steps closer.

“Can I touch you, princess?” He asks, words barely above a breath as Jimin stands just in front of Yoongi.

He doesn’t say anything, not trusting his voice not to break embarrassingly, so he just nods his head. He watches Yoongi carefully, trying to see what he likes best, but the dark eyes dart all across his body, as if he can’t decide just what he likes best.

The first touch Jimin feels is at his thighs, Yoongi’s long skinny fingers trailing along his stockings before moving up to meet the trim of his panties. He presses kisses to Jimin’s skin, warm and soft as he rubs the spaces he can reach.

“You’re so soft princess,” he murmurs against Jimin’s skin, “did you shave?”

Jimin nods, biting his bottom lip as he continues to watch Yoongi touch him. He doesn’t like the way his legs feel when he’s wearing panties, and there’s hair on his legs. There’s something about it that disturbs the soft image he feels, making him feel rough instead.

“I can’t believe this is happening right now,” Yoongi’s words are pressed against Jimin’s tummy in between kisses and Jimin’s not quite sure if he’s supposed to have heard Yoongi’s words. They were barely above a whisper, and there’s a tone of reverence there that makes him feel tingly all over.

No matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop his cock from twitching to life. Too overwhelmed by the praise, by Yoongi’s soft touches, he sees the wet patch forming on his panties, darkening the material.

“Hyung,” he whimpers, taking another step closer to Yoongi and patting his head. He wants Yoongi to know what he wants, and maybe Yoongi does, because the next thing he does, is take his hands off Jimin and open his arms widely.

“Come here, princess,” he suggests and Jimin doesn’t think twice about it. He hides his face in Yoongi’s neck and clings onto the older boy tightly.

Yoongi’s hands don’t stop moving, caressing every inch of Jimin’s skin that he can while at the same time driving the boy further into arousal. He feels a soft touch to his cheek, Yoongi’s nose, and he’s pulling back from Yoongi’s neck. The next moment, he feels Yoongi’s thin lips press against his own, pulling a sigh from deep in Jimin’s chest.

The kiss is slow, Yoongi licks into Jimin’s mouth, sucking on his full bottom lip before getting to know his mouth. As the kiss deepens, Jimin can no longer sit still. His hands roam across Yoongi’s back, playing with his hair for a moment before they’re traveling down and around. His hips don’t stay still either, almost naturally rocking into Yoongi.

It doesn't go deeper than that, Jimin sitting on Yoongi’s lap and kissing the boy until he’s crying out with the force of his orgasm. Yoongi comes in his pants not too long after, his big hands kneading the flesh of Jimin’s ass and rocking into him. Jimin loves every moment of it, loves the way Yoongi’s hands feel on his body, the way Yoongi’s voice manages to do things to Jimin that he really doesn’t understand, and the way that they don’t need more to giggle into their mouths before Yoongi’s up to clean them both and get them ready for bed.

As they lay in Yoongi’s bed, curled up around each other, Yoongi breaks the silence.

“So, what is it about the panties that you like?” Yoongi asks, petting Jimin’s hair as he speaks.

Jimin lays there for a moment, contemplating Yoongi’s question and debating his own answer.

“I like the way I feel when I wear them,” he begins, thinking about his words carefully, trying to explain himself. “I don’t wanna wear them daily or anything, I like my boxer briefs too, but it’s— they’re something different. When I wear them I feel— it’s almost as if I’m a different me?”

He huffs and shakes his head, feeling like he sounds ridiculous.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he tries, fiddling with his hands. “I like how soft I feel? And like, I dunno, pretty?”

Yoongi hums thoughtfully, not once letting go of Jimin. They lay in bed, pressed up against each other as Jimin’s words fill the dark silence. There’s not much to say, and Jimin feels comfortable in their embrace, happy that Yoongi isn’t trying to get away from him or pushing stuff on him either.

“Is there anything else that makes you feel pretty?” Yoongi asks after a while, breaking their calm silence.

Warmth blooms on Jimin’s face again, embarrassment spiking as he remembers all the things he’s been thinking about, the more frilly lingerie he was looking at, and even the things the tries his best not to think about— the skirts and dresses.

He reminds himself to breath, calming his racing heart before thinking about what about it all makes him feel so good. There’s a lot of things that make Jimin feel pretty, but none of them top having Yoongi looking at him like he had earlier that night; sharp eyes taking watching Jimin carefully, mouth dropped open and hand reaching out to touch, but never actually making contact, as if scared he’s going to ruin something delicate. Having Yoongi look at him as if he’s something precious, making Jimin feel like he’s something precious— Jimin would do anything, wear anything, to feel like that.

Naturally, he doesn’t say all that. Instead, he squeaks out a small “Yes,” and thankfully, Yoongi leaves it at that.



For their next photoshoot, he asks for a soft look from his make up artists. They do an amazing job, molding the look he wanted onto his face and he watches carefully as they do it. Maybe one day he’ll be able to recreate it.

As he looks at his pictures, he can’t help but think he looks great, his features shot at the perfect angle making him look both sharp and soft at the same time.

It’s not until he feels Yoongi pull him away after he’s done that he understands how much Yoongi likes it.

“You look so pretty. Like a doll. My pretty babydoll,” Yoongi mutters the words in between kisses and Jimin feels like he’s about to fall apart in Yoongi’s arms.

Each kiss that they share makes Jimin feel tingly all over, and all he wants is to be with Yoongi, to keep feeling his hands all over his body, to hear those words over and over again.

They drag it on as much as they can, Jimin’s fingers digging deeply into Yoongi’s hair, messing it up. By the time that they pull apart, Jimin’s sure that his lips are more plump than usual and he probably has a crazy look in his eyes.

Their manager calls them away though, finally taking them home and unlike everyone else, that night, Jimin asks the make up artists not to take off his make up, saying he’s tired and just wants to go home.

He plays it off well, curling into a chair and closing his eyes until their manager is back, calling them into the fan and taking them back to their dorm.

He doesn’t go home though.

Instead, he follows Yoongi into the studio and they touch and kiss until Jimin ends up on his knees, pulling Yoongi out of his pants and sucking him down.

“Fuck, baby,” Yoongi groans, petting Jimin’s hair as the boy licks all over his length, “your mouth is so good.”

Jimin’s too happy to please Yoongi to worry about technique. He’s too eager to care about his throat. All he wants is to make Yoongi come, to taste him on his throat.

He takes Yoongi in as deep as he can, making his eyes water with how fast he goes, but a deep sense of satisfaction burns in his gut. His heart races in his chest and he feels light headed as he continues, sucking Yoongi as much as he can, using his mouth to bring Yoongi pleasure.

It’s not until Yoongi is coming in his mouth that Jimin pulls off, sighing contently as he licks his lips and smiles up at Yoongi.

“Such a pretty princess,” Yoongi murmurs, caressing Jimin’s face, “the best babydoll around.”



Time passes and with each day, Jimin spends more time with Yoongi. Instead of going home, Jimin goes to Yoongi’s studio, watches him work, and relaxes.

He takes to dancing at night, staying in the building until Yoongi is done and walking home together. Any time that he can have with Yoongi alone, he takes. It takes him a while to get fully used to Yoongi knowing about the panties though.

It’s not just Yoongi, Jimin feels like he needs to explore himself. He does a lot of research, trying to understand what it is he likes and what it is he doesn’t like. It amazes Jimin just how much Yoongi is willing to help, to be a part of his exploration, and how gentle he is no matter what.

A part of him really wants to buy more clothes, not just lingerie, but he can’t seem to bring himself to do it.

“What are you looking at, baby?” Yoongi asks as he re-enters the studio, startling Jimin.

He slams his laptop shut, sitting up and looking up at Yoongi.

“N-Nothing,” he stutters, eyes darting across the room, unable to look at Yoongi. He wasn’t looking at anything terrible, just some pretty lingerie that’s more than just panties, but his face burns and he feels like he was doing something wrong.

Yoongi looks at him carefully, pursing his lips together for a moment before nodding his head.

“Okay, Jiminie,” he says before pressing a kiss to Jimin’s forehead. He walks over to his chair and before he turns around to face his computer again, he looks at Jimin carefully.

“If you ever want anything, all you have to do is ask,” he states, voice low but firm, “anything you want, baby.”

Jimin just nods his head, blushing harder than he’d like to before looking down at his hands.



As Jimin’s birthday comes around, he can’t wait until he can open Yoongi’s present.

He knows where it is, he’s seen the box a million times, and Yoongi keeps reminding him that he’s not allowed to open it before it’s time. He tries to ask Yoongi what it is, tries to ask the others if they know what Yoongi bought, but he gets nothing.

It’s always been a problem for him, knowing he has presents and seeing them just makes him impatient. He knows they’re for him, so what’s the point in waiting? It’s not his proudest moments, but it’s something he’s always understood.

Needless to say, the day of his birthday, he nearly rips the box in half as he tries to open it, too excited to open it calmly.

“A babydoll for my babydoll,” Yoongi explains quietly, looking at Jimin carefully.

Jimin’s heart races in his chest as he touches the soft red fabric, following the lines of the lace halter top before his eyes land on the cheeky bottoms. He’s cautious, feeling as if he’s going to tear the fabric by just touching it, but his tummy curls with want. The smile that blooms on his face threatens to break his face in half.

It’s beautiful.

“Thank you, hyung,” Jimin breathes, unable to speak louder as he holds the babydoll carefully in his hand.

After pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek, Jimin scurries off to go try the piece on. Thankfully, they have the day off, everyone doing their own thing which leaves them alone in the dorm.

He runs off to the bathroom and takes out all the pieces, the top and the bottom. As he pulls them both out, he notices that there are still items in the box. Picking them up, he realizes that it’s a pair of nylon stockings and a garter belt to keep them both up.

His mouth dries as he sees it, excitement rumbling beneath his calm exterior. He puts it on carefully, making sure that the straps don’t break and that the material falls the way it should.

The top hugs his chest snugly, making it seem like he has curves. The lace halter shows off his chest nicely, the wine color is perfect for his skin tone, and the pleated material flows beautifully round his hips. The bottoms however, leave next to nothing to the imagination

Thankfully, the garter covers a bit, pulling everything down while at the same time keeping his stockings up. As he inspects his reflection carefully, making sure everything looks right, he’s blown away by the image he sees. From his ass to his hair, everything fits the way it should. He looks soft and delicate, just the way he loves, and knowing that Yoongi bought them for him just makes it so much better.

As Jimin emerges from the bathroom and enters the bedroom, it’s as if Yoongi can’t keep his hands to himself.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs, running his hands down Jimin’s sides as he looks Jimin up and down appreciatively.

Jimin smoothes down the material, too shy to look up at Yoongi.

“Y-You think?” Jimin asks, needing to hear the reaffirmation.

Yoongi holds Jimin’s chin, pulling it up until Jimin is looking Yoongi straight in the eyes, “Baby, you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. What you’re wearing? It just makes you prettier. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone so pretty.”

Yoongi pulls Jimin into a searing kiss, cradling his body against his own and drawing him in closer until there’s not an inch of space left between them. Jimin does his best to keep up, kissing and kissing Yoongi until he doesn’t know his own name, pulling and tugging Yoongi closer until he doesn’t know where he ends and Yoongi begins.

“You’re perfect, babydoll,” Yoongi murmurs into Jimin’s lips, guiding the boy down onto Yoongi’s bed.

Jimin tugs at Yoongi’s clothes as he goes down, whining in complaint as he can’t access Yoongi’s warm skin. Jimin wants to feel him, feel Yoongi pressed against his body, all over him, and it’s ridiculous that fabric is standing in their way.

Yoongi huffs a laugh, sitting up for a moment to strip himself down all the way before he’s returning to Jimin. They both groan as Yoongi resettles, enjoying the warmth of their connection while at the same time enjoying the friction that it brought both of their cocks.

Yoongi’s hands don’t sit still, pressing and touching their way across Jimin’s body, playing with his nipples for a moment before he’s continuing down to Jimin’s thighs. He snaps the garter straps lightly, just enough to hear the sound in the quiet room and making Jimin feel just a bit harder in the panties that he’s currently in.

“Look at your thighs, damn ,” he murmurs, lightly nipping at the skin before he’s nosing his way up closer to Jimin’s cock, “They’re so fucking soft. I could kiss them all day.”

By the time that Yoongi finally gets his fingers inside of Jimin, he feels desperate and needy.

“Hyung please,” Jimin whines, thrashing below Yoongi, arching his body up and hoping to get what he needs, wanting to get Yoongi’s cock inside of him.

Yoongi hums quietly, crooking his fingers just enough to touch Jimin’s prostate but not enough to make him come, “Patience baby girl.”

His brain short circuits, eyes widening and mouth dropping open as he hears the nickname— baby girl .

Jimin doesn’t notice the way Yoongi’s body tenses, too busy arching his back and practically screaming as he comes. His vision explodes in bursts of white, pulling him further and further into the pleasure with Yoongi’s comfortable weight still on him. His body shakes with each spike of bliss as his mouth drops open and he struggles to catch his breath. Undulating his hips, Jimin does his best to keep Yoongi’s fingers moving in his ass as he comes, unintentionally getting them both messy.

“Jimin, I—” Yoongi looks worried, as if he’s about to apologize and Jimin is quick to shut him down. He pulls the boy into a searing kiss, doing his best to show Yoongi just how much he loved that, how much he needs that.

“Please, hyung,” he whispers as he pulls away, pressing their foreheads together, “please call me that again.”

Something clicks in Jimin’s head as Yoongi smiles and softly says it again, “My pretty baby girl.”

He doesn't know if Yoongi confused phrases, if he was tired and it was just a thing that slipped out, but Jimin loves it more than anything else in the world. He can’t swallow down the desperate whine that escapes his lips, but his body aches for more.

“Come on, h-hyung,” Jimin asks again, arching his hips up to Yoongi’s cock and does his best cute act, “put it in me. Please, I’ve earned it, haven’t I?”

Yoongi must think he does, because as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he feels Yoongi’s wet head press up against him.

The feeling of having Yoongi’s cock in him, of his panties being moved to the side just enough for Yoongi to fuck him— it makes Jimin feel a little like he’s falling apart beneath Yoongi. Each thrust he makes is timed and calculated, getting Jimn impatient with the pace and demanding more, as if that’s what Yoongi wants.

“My baby girl is so needy,” Yoongi whispers, nipping at Jimin’s throat as he picks up the pace, “so greedy for my cock.”

Jimin feels his cock twitch to life, arousal simmering in his tummy. Yoongi’s thrusts get harder with each turn, fucking further and further into Jimin until he watches as his tummy moves with Yoongi’s thrusts.

“Y-You’re so deep ,” Jimin moans, throwing his head back and pulling Yoongi in closer, wrapping his thighs around Yoongi’s hips.

The sound Yoongi makes as he leans over and fucks into Jimin makes him shiver with the power of the pleasure running through his body. It feels too soon, too much after he just came, but the pressure of an orgasm builds with every passing moment.

“I’m close, princess,” Yoongi groans, clutching Jimin closer and snapping his hips hard, “god you feel so good, baby girl. Your pussy is so good, so warm and so soft. You’re taking me so well.”

Jimin’s nearly delirious in his pleasure, body jerking and humming before Yoongi is wrapping a hand around his leaking cock and pushing him over the edge.

Yoongi’s own grip falters as he works them through their orgasm, desperate thrusts losing their perfect rhythm and falling into the blinding pleasure. Jimin feels like he’s shaking, coming so hard his mouth drops open and he’s left holding onto Yoongi’s shoulders and hoping that he makes it back into his body in one piece.

He works them both until they come down from their orgasm. Jimin lies there on the bed, limp and almost certain that if he were to try to move, it would end with him on the floor. Thankfully, Yoongi takes care of him, the way he always has.

Jimin watches as Yoongi stands up, grabs a towel, and wipes him down. He’s careful as he does his best to unclip the garter around his waist, pulling at it until it gives and Jimin is freed.

“Do you want to take anything else off?” Yoongi asks, cupping Jimin’s cheek softly.

Rather than worrying about his clothing situation, he can only think about sleep. He shakes his head, comfortable and sleepy. Yoongi smiles, soft and small before pressing a kiss to Jimin’s forehead before he’s cleaning himself up.

The bed stays empty for a moment as Yoongi cleans himself up, but as soon as he does, he crawls right beside Jimin and scoops him into his arms.

“Happy birthday, Jiminie,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Jimin’s hair.

Jimin presses a kiss to Yoongi’s neck, pulling himself closer to Yoongi and whispering a quiet thank you. He feels cared for, soft and warm in Yoongi’s careful embrace. There’s nowhere he’d rather be.

With a shared goodnight, the two fall asleep together.



Because Yoongi got Jimin an amazing gift for his birthday, Jimin decided he wants to do something big for Valentine’s Day.

Ever since Yoongi got him the babydoll, ever since Yoongi accidentally called Jimin baby girl, Jimin has noticed he wants more. He likes the babydoll the best, the way it falls around his waist, the way it makes him look soft and pretty. But he loves when Yoongi calls him baby girl, loves the way it makes his skin tingle every time.

No matter how many times he hears Yoongi’s rough voice groaning those words, they never fail to get him going. It makes him want to look like Yoongi’s baby girl.

He runs through several ideas, working on ways he could dress up, what he could do to impress Yoongi. He knows he wants to do more, push himself to see what he likes, and in the end, he decides on a classic.

Loads of stores have various schoolgirl outfits, from costume shops to halloween shops, but all of them seem to have something in common. They’re all sexy schoolgirls. Although yes, he does want to be sexy and it will be used for sex, he doesn’t want it to be obscene. He doesn’t want to wear a crop top or a ridiculously small skirt.

He looks for weeks to find the right skirt and top. Once he finds the perfect black skirt, he then has to find stockings that match, that fit right, and that aren’t lace. He pours over countless options, cutting down various outfits until he finds the right one.

The top is standard, a soft pink polo with a collar that allows for some neck room. The skirt is a bit different. Jimin debated between a plaid skirt or a solid skirt, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find a plaid skirt that he liked. However, he found a plain black skirt with a white stripe along the bottom that called out to him. He returned to it over and over again, and when he found black thigh high socks with a white stripe along the top, he bought them both without thinking twice.

The rest of the look comes together not too long after that. Thankfully, the stores are full of headbands and all kinds of make up for the holiday and Jimin doesn’t have to spend too much time deciding on what to buy.

He plans every detail, working through how they’re going to have the dorm to themselves, how he’s going to put together his outfit, how he’s going to hide the outfit from everyone, and even how far he’s going to go for the fantasy.

He wants to be Yoongi’s baby girl, and that requires a bit more work.

The day of, he claims the bathroom as soon as the boys leave. He shaves his legs, making sure to get all the hair off without cutting himself before slathering loads of lotion on his legs to keep them soft.

He keeps his make up soft, shades of pink to match his top and soft smudged eyeliner just to make his eyes pop. He makes sure to put blush on his cheeks, enhancing his natural blush and using bright red lipstick. The red stands out above the rest of the look and Jimin just knows that it’ll get everywhere.

He can’t wait.

The part he’s not used to about the outfit, is the buttplug he decides to wear. He wants to be stretched for Yoongi, wet and ready to be fucked just like a girl. He wants Yoongi to turn him around and just slide right in, fast and hard until they’re both panting.

The plug enters him easily, slipping in after just a few fingers and he has to give himself a moment to relax. He pulls on a pair of simple briefs, pink and cotton, over the plug. The rest follows quickly.

Thankfully, his cock doesn’t get too excited even though the steady hum of arousal sits just beneath his skin. He inspects his reflection, looking at the shirt carefully and making sure it doesn’t fall awkwardly or make strange lines under the skirt. He’s impressed by the way the skirt hugs his waist, flaring at his hips and pooling around the tops of his thighs.

It’s perfect.

Ribbon is his final touch, tying it cutely around his hair and finishing the look.

Taking a deep breath, Jimin smooths down his outfit before stepping out of the bathroom and walking right to Yoongi’s room. Nerves eat at him, reminding him that this isn’t something they usually do, that maybe it’s a bit too much for Yoongi. He knows that he wants this, that he loves how comfortable he feels in these clothes, that he wants to be pretty for Yoongi, and more than anything, he hopes that Yoongi likes it too.

After a short pause, he forces himself to open Yoongi’s door and steps in.

“Hyung?” Jimin calls out to the figure sitting at his desk, hunched over and looking at his phone.

Yoongi’s quick to set his phone down before turning to look at Jimin. The heat of his stare is piercing, making Jimin feel even more nervous. Yoongi’s sharp eyes don’t miss anything, Jimin can almost feel them as he looks Jimin up and down, but it kills him that Yoongi stays silent.

Time passes slowly, almost as if it doesn’t pass at all, and with each moment Jimin grows impatient. He knows Yoongi isn’t eloquent, but the silence doesn’t reassure him. What does, is the bulge in his pants that Jimin can see.

Biting his lips softly, he steels his nerves and approaches Yoongi. Wordlessly, he drops to his knees in front of Yoongi, running his hands along Yoongi’s thighs before letting them go to where they both want to be.

Princess ,” Yoongi breathes, breaking the silence in the room.

Jimin looks up at Yoongi through his lashes, nervously biting at his cheek until he feels Yoongi’s big hand cup his face. He runs his fingers through Jimin’s hair, over his skin softly, before leaning down and kissing him chastely.

“You’re stunning, baby girl,” he praises, the words spilling past his lips and dancing over Jimin’s skin. His eyes flutter shut as he smiles, pleased with himself.

He takes a moment to breathe, to clear his head from the fuzzy happiness that falls around him before he speaks, “Hyung.”

Yoongi chuckles, startling Jimin into opening his eyes.

“Jiminie,” he begins, peppering kisses all over his face, “do pretty girls have hyungs?”

Jimin shivers at Yoongi’s tone, light  and airy, but still firm. Jimin knows he’s right.

“N-No,” he replies, looking up at Yoongi carefully, trying to understand if they’re both on the right page.

Yoongi shakes his head, a gentle smile on his face as he drags his thumb across his cheek, over his lips, and into his mouth. Jimin doesn’t even think about it, sucking on the digit lightly.

“Then what should you call me, princess?” Yoongi prompts.

Jimin takes a deep breath.

“Oppa,” Jimin whispers, too shy to say the word louder.

Yoongi closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip before opening them up again and revealing just how affected he is. Jimin can see the flush blooming across Yoongi’s pale cheeks, the way his pupils dilated with arousal, and even the way that Yoongi’s grip tightens around him.

“That’s right, baby girl,” he praises before letting go of Jimin and tilting his hips up. “Now show me how how good your mouth is again.”

Jimin doesn’t need any more instructions, unzipping Yoongi’s pants quickly before taking his hard cock out. He strokes Yoongi first, twice to watch how Yoongi shivers before groaning. Then, he lets his tongue peek out, licking the head and tasting the bead of precome pooling at the tip.

The salty flavor makes Jimin hum, pleased with his effect on Yoongi. He gives Yoongi several kitten licks all over his cock, humming happily with the taste. He doesn’t give Yoongi time to get used to it though, and before long, he’s sucking Yoongi down all the way.

Yoongi groans loudly, tightly holding onto Jimin’s hair. It’s nothing compared to the way his hips buck up unintentionally though, making Jimin choke and pull back. Sparks of pleasure fire off in his throat, down his spine and all the way to his toes making Jimin hum with how good it feels.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” he apologizes quickly, caressing Jimin’s face and looking at him with worry clearly etched on his face.

Jimin just shakes his head, “It’s okay, oppa. Do it again.”

Yoongi looks at him wearily, eyes darting across his face before Jimin is taking Yoongi back into his mouth and and sucking him down again. Jimin can tell that Yoongi is a bit hesitant, unsure as to what to do next, but he slowly rocks his hips into Jimin’s mouth.

His cock slides down Jimin’s throat, pushing until his nose is buried in Yoongi’s pubes and a pleasurable burn builds in his throat. He lets himself go, relaxing his muscles and humming as he feels Yoongi thrust in and out of his mouth. He loves the heavy feeling of Yoongi’s cock on his tongue, the way that his eyes tear up, the way that his body fights for air— he just loves making Yoongi feel good.

Jimin stays on his knees until they hurt, and then stays longer. A part of him expects Yoongi to come in his mouth, not really thinking of anything else, so when Yoongi’s suddenly pulling out and panting, Jimin whines in complaint.

“Patience, baby girl,” he says in between harsh breaths, “I want to come in your pussy today.” Yoongi stands and pulls Jimin up with him, caressing his cheeks and wiping the tears away.

Jimin’s sure he looks a mess. He knows there are tears running down his face, surely smearing his eyeshadow, mascara, and liner. Yoongi’s cock is covered in Jimin’s lipstick, smeared from being in his mouth and a sense of pride bubbles in his chest. That’s his doing, his lipstick all over Yoongi’s hard cock.

Yoongi hand goes toward the drawer that Jimin knows has lube. Quickly, his hand reaches out and pulls Yoongi back to him.

“I-I’m already wet for you, oppa,” he says shyly, not looking Yoongi in the face.

“Fuck, princess ,” Yongi groans, hands going straight to Jimin’s ass and touching the wet skin.

Jimin hadn’t been too careful with the lube, not caring where it ends up, leaving his cheeks covered in the slippery substance. He’s wet, just like a pussy would be, and that knowledge makes Jimin just that much closer to oblivion.

Yoongi lets go of Jimin, kissing him fiercely as he leads Jimin until his back presses against the wall. The kiss is frantic, nipping and sucking until Jimin feels like Yoongi is claiming him, body and soul through their lips.

It doesn’t last long though, and the next thing Jimin knows, he’s being turned around and his chest is being pressed into the wall.

“Spread your legs,” Yoongi orders, caressing Jimin’s legs before flipping the skirt up.

Jimin doesn’t even think about it, spreading his legs and sticking his ass out enticingly, hoping to make the process move along a bit quicker.

Yoongi’s hands rub his cheeks, smacking them a bit before tugging Jimin’s cotton panties down just past the curve of his ass. He makes an appreciative noise, leaning forward and dropping a kiss to Jimin’s neck before he’s reaching between Jimin’s cheeks and pulling out the plug.

“God, look at you, baby girl,” he mumbles, “so messy and so fucking pretty for me, fuck. Your pussy is ready for me to just slip right in, isn’t it?”

Jimin whines “Oppa,” shaking his ass and wordlessly asking for Yoongi to just fuck him. Thankfully, he’s rewarded not a few moments later with Yoongi’s cock sliding in between his cheeks, teasing them both for just a moment before he’s slipping right in.

“Fuck you feel amazing, princess,” Yoongi groans, face pressed into the crook of Jimin’s neck as he bottoms out, “so fucking tight.”

Jimin feels like Yoongi is fucking the breath right out of his lungs, pressing in deep enough to have him shaking against the wall. Yoongi paces himself slowly, rocking them together at first before snapping his hips and holding Jimin so tight that he’s convinced he’s going to have bruises in the morning.

He loves every second of it, loves feeling Yoongi pressed up against him, panting into his neck, and groaning incomprehensibly. Pride bubbles in his chest through each thrust, knowing that he’s doing that— he’s the one making Yoongi feel good.

“O-Oppa,” Jimin groans as Yoongi changes the angle, hitting his prostate perfectly, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Yoongi’s hands roam across Jimin’s body, caressing his ass, trailing up his front, interlacing their fingers, before returning back to Jimin’s hips and keeping him pinned against the wall. Jimin knows that he wouldn’t be able to move away, even if he wanted to.

Each stroke pushes Jimin closer to bliss and his whole body shakes in anticipation. He’s so close he can taste it, and just as he feels himself about to fall over, Yoongi pulls back.

“Oppa!” Jimin complains, tears prickling in his eyes.

He was so close, so painfully close that his body aches with the need to come. He’s confined in his panties, still wearing all of his clothes and they start to feel restricting.

It doesn’t last long. Yoongi turns them both around and guides Jimin towards his bed. He divests them both of their clothes, making sure to be gentle with Jimin’s clothes before tugging his own off carelessly. Jimin does his best to help, tugging and pulling on the material until all he feels is Yoongi’s warm skin against his own.

They lay down with a groan, wet cocks rubbing against each other as Yoongi settles between Jimin’s thighs. Yoongi slips right back into Jimin’s empty hole, filling him up deliciously.

“So wet, princess,” Yoongi groans as he bottoms out, interlacing their fingers and keeping their hands next to Jimin’s head.

Yoongi fucks Jimin slowly, groaning as he gets in as deep as possible before pulling out and rocking back in. It drives Jimin crazy, not fast enough to push him over the edge but rather, crawling over and drawing out the pleasure. Jimin knows he’s getting closer, each and every thrust pleasuring him amazingly, but it’s so slow his body nearly shakes with the need for more.

He does his best to try and get Yoongi to go faster. He hooks his legs around Yoongi’s body, but fails to budge Yoongi’s pace. He tries to rock his hips up, meeting Yoongi’s hips with his own, but Yoongi just stills, waiting for Jimin to stop moving before starting up again.

“Oppa,” he whines, doing his best to swallow down the bubble of emotion building in his throat, “oppa please .”

Nothing works. Yoongi keeps at this pace, fucking Jimin slowly until the prickle of tears bubbles over and they spill down his cheeks.

“There you go, baby girl,” Yoongi whispers, “let yourself go. Let oppa take care of you.”

Jimin goes limp under Yoongi, relaxing his muscles and accepting the control that Yoongi has over him.

Yoongi continues to murmur praise into Jimin’s ear, petting him as best he can and peppering kisses all over Jimin’s face. He keeps at that pace though, fucking Jimin leisurely until Jimin feels boneless, completely out of his head and into the pleasure.

The pleasure builds not long after, Yoongi’s hips steadily picking up the pace. Long thrusts become a little faster, rocking in just as deep and hitting Jimin’s prostate often enough to pull whimpers out of his mouth.

“Fuck this feels so good,” Yoongi pants, voice showing the strain the slow pace is taking on Yoongi himself. “Your pussy is swallowing me up so good.”

Jimin feels his body tightening, preparing himself to come. Yoongi picks up the pace again, snapping his hips rapidly until all Jimin can hear are his loud moans and the wet sound of skin slapping together.

“You’re my pretty baby girl,” Yoongi groans, nuzzling Jimin’s neck. “Say it princess.”

Jimin feels his head going fuzzy with pleasure, toes starting to curl with how close he is.

“Say it, Jimin,” Yoongi orders again, this time looking Jimin in the eyes.

Jimin bites his lip, looking up at Yoongi desperately before he’s repeating the words, “I’m your pretty baby girl.”

“That’s right,” Yoongi praises with a smile, kissing Jimin on the mouth. “You’re my beautiful baby girl.”

Yoongi grabs Jimin’s hips, tilting them up just enough and fucks Jimin in earnest, pushing wet cries past his lips until he’s falling over the edge, crying Yoongi’s name out loudly for the world to hear as his body shakes.

He’s never felt fireworks when he’s come, but this orgasm is close to it. His nerves go haywire, muscles spasming sporadically as pleasure burns through him, making him feel like he can’t breathe through the force of it.

Yoongi follows not long after, rhythm falling into sporadic thrusts until he’s groaning loudly and collapsing over Jimin’s tired form.

They lay there comfortably for a while, catching their breath until Yoongi is shifting and pulling out. The feeling of being empty follows instantly, making Jimin’s gut twist but the sweet kiss that Yoongi presses to his forehead makes Jimin feel better.

“Let me go get something to clean you up with,” he explains before he’s slipping out of the room.

Jimin stays in bed, staring at the ceiling and smiling brightly. He feels incredible, sated and happy. Not once in his wildest dreams, would he have thought that just a simple act of wearing a stupid maid outfit for a variety show would have lead him down this path.

Yoongi pulls him out of his thoughts as he returns, makeup wipe in one hand and cloth in the other. Ever so gently, Yoongi cleans the mixture of come and lube off Jimin’s skin, rubbing the warm cloth over his thighs and tummy before carefully wiping at his sensitive hole. When Yoongi deems him clean, he takes the make up wipe and methodically cleans Jimin’s face.

The smile that blooms on Jimin’s face is impossible to hide, too happy to be taken care of so well to be bothered to care. He loves how gentile Yoongi is, how careful he is about his eyes, the look of concentration that falls over his face as he pulls away to make sure it’s all off.

It doesn’t take Yoongi long to toss that next to the cloth and crawl into bed with Jimin.

“Let’s nap, Jimine,” he whispers, gathering Jimin in his arms and spooning him.

Jimin nods quickly, aware that exhaustion is already tugging his eyelids down. The warmth and safety of Yoongi’s arms is indescribable, lulling Jimin into such a relaxed state that he doesn’t get to say anything to Yoongi, not even a soft thank you.

He’s so grateful that they’ve managed to end up the way they did, understanding each other, so close to each other, and every chance he gets, he’s going to show Yoongi how grateful he is that Yoongi allowed Jimin into his life so thoroughly.

No matter what, he’s not going to let go.


— End.