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you're already used to the games (you play your role and I play the same)

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“Excuse me?” 

Someone clears their throat and Jimin looks up. The girl is staring at him from the other side of the counter, hair falling in curls over her shoulders and fringe covering the way her brows twist into slight annoyance. She’s smiling, though, and Jimin does the same. 

“Hi. Can I help you?” Jimin asks cordially, setting aside the book he’d been reading. 

“I hope so?” She chokes out a nervous laugh, tucking a loose hair strand behind her ear. “There’s a group of guys at the back who won’t stop laughing. I really need to study and I can’t concentrate with them here. I couldn’t find anywhere else to sit either,” she worries her lower lip between her teeth, cocking her head to the side. “Could you please talk to them? I tried but...”

The girl never finishes her sentence. She doesn’t have to. Jimin already knows who she’s talking about. 

“Sure.” Sighing, Jimin stands, pushing up his thick-rimmed glasses which had slid up his nose. “I’ll be right back.”

She nods quickly, notebooks trapped flush against her chest. Jimin gives her a reassuring smile before turning around and wandering off to the far-reach back tables where he'll find them. 

Once Jimin’s out of sight, he rolls his eyes, urging himself to contain the groan bottling in his throat. This is the third complaint he’s gotten in the short span of half an hour and he was trying so hard to not lose his patience, stomp over there like the scary librarian he's seen in too many movies and yell at them to shut the fuck up. 

Everyone knows you can’t make that much noise in a library, for god’s sake. But this is his job and they are, indeed, in a library, although some people tend to think they’re too good to follow basic rules. Such as ignoring the very big and shiny sign hanging by the door with the words “No Noise” on it. 

People like Jungkook and his dumbass friends.

“Stupid frat boys,” Jimin mutters under his breath, following the sound of laughter filling the room. 

Jungkook is the first one he notices wearing the familiar blue-navy varsity jacket with the unmistakable University of Michigan logo shining in all its maize glory on his back. The baseball cap is just a plus. 

Jimin feels like he’s just stepped into the field and the game’s about to start. Except there are only five players, no bats and Jimin’s ready to strike them out. 

“So I was sitting there, barbecue sauce on my titties,” one of them says, and Jimin is next to Jungkook in no time, speaking before another round of laughter chimes in. 

“Funny.” Needless to say, Jimin doesn’t find it funny at all. They quiet down, Jungkook turning his head to meet Jimin’s eyes. 

“Sweet cheeks! Here to join us?” Jungkook teases, raising his brows challengingly. 

“Now that’s a joke.” Jimin scowls, crossing his arms. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Of course, sweet cheeks.”

They all shoot each other knowing glances, Jungkook smirking at them as he quickly stands up. Jimin’s one breath away to kick them out of his library. 

He leads them to a secluded area, stopping between two sections far enough from the table so Jungkook’s friends won’t be able to hear them. It’s apparently a bad idea since Jungkook seems to have mistaken Jimin’s intention, fingers immediately hooking around his waist and bringing him closer to him. Jungkook’s breath is warm against his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“What are you doing?” Jimin asks, clearly unbothered with zero motivation to deal with Jungkook’s bullshit right now. 

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” Jungkook says matter-of-factly, body heat too strong for Jimin to handle. 

With a little bit of difficulty, he wiggles himself free from Jungkook’s hold, smacking his hand away when he tries to pull him back to his arms again. Jungkook’s tilting his head to the right, dumbfounded expression making Jimin even more annoyed. 

“Yeah. Talk,” Jimin emphasizes like he’s talking to a damn child. “What do you think you’re doing? People are complaining about the noise you and your dickhead friends are making. This is a library, Jungkook, not your fucking fraternity house. If you’re not here to study, then please do consider this as me kindly asking you to get the fuck out.”

Jungkook blinks owlishly at him for a moment, almost offended. “And what makes you think we’re not studying?”

“I highly doubt vine references are included in any of your course schedules.” 

“Aw, you know about vines,” Jungkook coos, booping Jimin’s nose.

Jimin flushes instantly, face tinted red. His blood boils, fueling his desire to beat Jungkook up and maybe kiss it better. He doesn’t. Instead, the whine Jungkook lets out when he smacks him on the head are enough to ease his mind for a while. “What’s that even supposed to mean? I’m surrounded by books, Jungkook, not rocks. And by the way, your friend’s impression was so lame. If you’re quoting vines, at least do it right.”

“You’re so cute when you get all worked up,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, smiling cutely. Jimin hates how it makes his heart flutter in his chest. Well, maybe the compliments help too. It’s fine. He’s fine. It doesn’t matter. “But bold of you to assume we’re not studying. We’re actually working on an assignment about how social media and its content have been influencing young people’s minds and its effects on society’s way of thinking nowadays.”

“Oh,” Jimin’s mouth opens and closes, not really knowing what to say. He was definitely expecting Jungkook to be doing anything besides, well, studying

His lack of words is easily forgotten as Jungkook gives him the biggest shit-eating-grin he’s ever had the displeasure of seeing. 

“I don’t care. Keep it down or I’ll call security and have your asses dragged. I bet coach wouldn’t want his golden boy to get in trouble like that, would he?” Jimin sing-songs, high-pitched voice drawing out as he fakes a pout. 

Jungkook’s eyes widen. The whole arrogant and confident frat boy façade breaks down as he stutters. “Y-you wouldn’t.”

He wouldn’t, but Jungkook doesn’t know that. “Try me.”

Jungkook gulps, lips pursing, tiny dimple visible as he glares at him. “Fine.”

“Good boy,” Jimin pinches Jungkook’s cheeks as revenge for the pet name from earlier. Jimin will never admit to how Jungkook calling him sweet cheeks really makes him feel As in, it disgusts him (no, it doesn’t). “Now get out.”

“You’re so mean.” Jungkook pouts, taking his cap off to ruffle his hair before putting it back on. Jimin simply watches, amused. Jungkook recovers from the lash out soon enough, smug attitude rebuilt once he latches his body onto Jimin, pressing him against the bookshelf behind them. Jimin gasps and Jungkook’s smirk is back, spreading across his face. “I can be meaner.” 

“Finally grew some balls, baby?” Jimin says, feigning indifference. It’s not as easy as he thought it would be, considering the increase of his heartbeat and the goosebumps prickling his skin. He swears it’s a reaction to the adrenaline, but Jimin knows (and maybe Jungkook does too) that Jungkook’s cock brushing against his might be the main cause of his problems.

“Why? Wanna see?” Jungkook noses at Jimin’s jawline, trailing feather-like kisses over his chin. Closing his eyes, Jimin allows himself to relish Jungkook’s caresses and enjoy the way his lips warm up his skin. Jimin’s legs feel like mush, ready to give out, but he’s not about to give in either. 

“I’d rather not,” Jimin whispers, breaking out of his horny reverie, dodging Jungkook’s advances to kiss him and pushing him away. “I told you we’re not doing this anymore.”

“You say that all the time, Jiminie,” Jungkook says, but he steps back anyway. Jungkook might be many things (a rich kid, a jock who wears too many U of M merch and a pain in his ass), but luckily he's well-aware he shouldn't push Jimin’s buttons if he doesn't want a black eye.

“This time I mean it.”

It’s true. Jimin does mean it, he just obviously still needs to figure out how much.“You should start hanging out at the library on campus. I’m sure they have lots of books to keep you entertained and people who actually want to fuck with you.”

“And miss all the fun you provide me, Jiminie? Nah, I’m good.”

“I just said we’re not doing this again,” Jimin says, voice final, narrowing his eyes. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Whatever you say, sweet cheeks.”

“Stop calling me that!” Jimin slaps Jungkook’s chest. He flinches, smile never wavering. 

For a moment, they just stare at each other. Jimin hears their heavy breaths and wonders if Jungkook can hear the drum-set playing inside his chest. Jungkook seems to be thinking of what to do next, indecision flashing in his sparkling doe eyes. 

“You should go back to your friends.” It’s Jimin who breaks the silence, already turning on his heels to go back to his desk. He’s been gone for way too long. 

Grabbing his wrist, Jungkook twirls him around, leaving Jimin no other option than to face him. “I’ll see you later?”

“No, you won't.” 

“Lying doesn't suit you.”

“I'm not lying,” Jimin says decisively. “Now let go. I gotta go back to work.” 

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook’s grip loosens around Jimin’s wrist. 

“Bye, Jungkook.” Jimin waves him off, already making his way further down the hallway. 

“Nice ass.”

“Nice try, dipshit,” Jimin says, middle finger up as he continues to walk. 

Jungkook chuckles behind him, but he doesn't bother sparing him another glance. He’s just around the corner when he hears it.

“Got into his pants yet?” Jungkook’s friends laugh. He recognizes Jungkook’s honey-like voice telling them to “fuck off”, but his tone is light, like he doesn’t really mean it. 

Jimin’s heart sinks into his stomach, throat dry as Jungkook’s words keep repeating in his head. He can’t put a name into what he’s feeling, but it sure feels a lot like disappointment. 

It's confirmed. Jimin hates frat boys. 

As much as Jimin tries, there is no resisting Jungkook. 

Which is why he finds himself spread open, chest pressed flush against the nearest bookshelf with Jungkook’s tongue dipping into his ass.

He really had meant every word he’d said earlier that day. Jimin wasn’t one for backing down on his promises, but Jungkook is Jungkook, Jimin is Jimin and they always end up like this. No matter how hard Jimin pushes him away, Jungkook keeps pulling him back.

It’s been almost six months of shameless flirting and bickering, always culminating in rough, sweaty and somewhat nasty sex between sections twelve and thirteen. It’s the perfect spot: dark enough that Jimin can’t see his own shame and private enough for them to not get caught by any unwelcome visitors. Or security cameras.

Deep down, Jimin wants to get caught. Maybe that’s the reason he never locks the front door. 

They’ve done this far too many times, but every new round with Jungkook it's like he’s experiencing everything for the very first time. 

He could never forget the day he’d met Jungkook. He’d strolled into the library three weeks into his new job in search of a book for his sociology class, a cocky grin on his rosy lips and the same University of Michigan jacket he’s wearing right now draped over his broad shoulders. The only reason Jimin had started working there was to pay off his semester at the community college nearby. He didn’t love his job, but upon first laying eyes on Jungkook he’d realized being a librarian can’t be that bad.

Things, of course, escalated way too quickly after that. Flirting is in Jimin’s nature and Jungkook is just as willing to flirt back, showing off his stupid smirks and lame pick-up lines that make Jimin’s tummy curl and heart flutter. 

It didn’t take long for Jungkook’s visits to go from giggles and stolen kisses to casual blowjobs. If only they had stopped there… but to no one’s surprise, Jimin is greedy and Jungkook is, too.

Jimin still doesn’t know what they’re doing and he’s too afraid to ask. But maybe he should consider himself lucky; he got himself a new job and someone to fuck him stupid with no strings attached.

It didn’t take him long to realize that Jungkook has everything he wants and needs, but at the same time, he represents everything he hates: rich kids who have it too easy. The golden boy from the baseball team at the unreachable university of Jimin’s dreams. Anything Jungkook wants, he gets. Including Jimin.

Jimin is still trying to figure out if he loves or hates that part.

Tonight it’s the latter: his mind is blank, too busy relishing the feeling of Jungkook’s tongue curling inside him as he eats him out. A whine escapes his mouth, Jungkook sucking a little bit too hard and making Jimin’s eyes flutter shut.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” he pants, rolling his hips back against Jungkook’s face, back arching when he feels Jungkook’s nose between his cheeks. It’s cold. Jimin trembles.

Jungkook doesn’t stop, lapping over his puffy rim, kissing and licking. 

“Love your ass, baby.” Jungkook’s words come out muffled, blowing hot air into Jimin’s clenching hole.

Then one finger is in and Jimin keens, mouth agape with drool gathering around the corners. It’s too much and Jimin’s cock aches, untouched. 

“Stop playing around and put it in already,” Jimin’s demand is barely more than a broken whimper. Jungkook crooks his finger just right, reaching his prostate spot-on.

“Eager, much?” Jungkook just laughs, pushing in and out, mouth glued to Jimin’s ass.

“Fuck you,” Jimin splutters, wanton moans reverberating around them. 

“No, Jimin,” he pushes another finger covered with spit and lube, the stretch burning in a good way. Jungkook sucks again, hot tongue licking all the way up Jimin’s balls to his lower back. “I’m gonna fuck you.”

Jungkook’s tone is harsh and Jimin slips easily into the role they’ve been playing for far too long. He mewls, allowing Jungkook to ravish his shoulder with kisses and bites that undoubtedly will leave bruises on his otherwise unabashedly pale skin.

Jimin’s used to it by now, loves trailing his fingers over the purples and greens whenever he looks at himself in the mirror the morning after. 

“Please,” Jimin begs, throwing his head back. Jungkook’s tongue swipes along the column of his neck and it’s even warmer up there. Jimin feels dizzy, Jungkook’s fingers still working on spreading him open.

“Please what, baby?” He asks, free arm loosely slung around his waist, locking him in place. Jimin wouldn’t go anywhere, anyway, not when Jungkook adds a third finger and it feels so fucking good

The irony of the situation would be funny if it wasn’t so pleasurable. Jimin is just as loud as Jungkook was being that afternoon, pretty moans slipping from his puffy, bitten lips. 

“Please, Jungkook,” he tries, failing, half-lidded eyes rolling to the back of his head with the feeling of Jungkook’s long fingers breaking him down only to put the pieces together and break him all over again. 

“You gotta be more specific, baby,” Jungkook’s breath lingers over his earlobe, teeth scraping the skin, making Jimin even more pliant to his touches. At this point, Jungkook could literally bend him over and spank him until he's so sore he won't be able to sit for days. Jimin’s mouth waters just thinking about it. 

Another time, he promises. Right now he has better things to take care of, such as Jungkook fucking him dumb and silly. “Want your cock,” he finally says, heat pooling in his stomach with each thrust of Jungkook’s fingers. “Please, want your cock so bad.”

“Aren’t you the cutest little thing?” Jungkook coos, lips brushing softly Jimin’s cheeks, knuckles deep into him. “Where’s my sassy Jimin, huh? No snarky comments now?” 

With his other hand, he drags his nails along Jimin’s side, down to his thighs and up to his crotch. He hisses once Jungkook takes hold of his cock, throbbing from the lack of attention, precome still leaking pathetically from the slit and dribbling over his length. Jungkook’s thumb adds pressure to the head, palm scalding hot over his cock as he lightly squeezes it. Another moan, Jimin twitching under Jungkook’s scrutinizing touch. 

“What’s wrong, love? Cat got your tongue?” 

Jimin can’t take this anymore. “Will you please shut the up and fuck me already?” 

“There he is.” Jungkook pecks his left cheek before withdrawing altogether, both hands leaving Jimin bare, confused and needy, hole clenching around nothing, much to Jungkook’s amusement. 

“No!” Jimin cries out, grinding against Jungkook in search of some kind of release. “Come on, Jungkook, please. Please, fuck me.” 

“It’s okay, love,” Jungkook shushes him. Jimin swallows down his complaints, listening to the shuffling behind him, wishfully thinking Jungkook’s doing what he thinks he’s doing. The sound of Jungkook unzipping his jeans is like bells to Jimin’s ears, but the barely-there click Jimin knows for sure belongs to the bottle of lube is straight-up heavenly. “Gonna wreck you.”

Any shitty porn happening in a library would look a lot like this. Does Jimin care, though, is the most important question of the night. The answer is absolutely not. 

Jimin’s never been one to be patient, whining at the loss of Jungkook’s hands on him, eagerly waiting for the stretch that never really comes. “What’s taking you so long? Hurry up,” he grumbles, willing himself to turn his head back and see why Jungkook isn’t fucking him yet. 

The sight is overwhelming as it is. The veins of Jungkook’s neck pop along with the hard muscles bulging under his shirt as he jerks himself off on Jimin’s ass. A newfound need to suck Jungkook’s hard cock overflows him, almost making him forget his priorities—which is to get Jungkook inside of him as soon as possible. 

There’s lube dripping from Jungkook’s cock right on the carpet. Jimin mentally notes it down to chastise Jungkook for it later.


Jimin gulps, nodding. 

Lining his cock between Jimin’s asscheeks, Jungkook pushes in. The stretch dies down faster than usual, probably due to how desperate Jimin is, pain quickly replaced with pleasure as Jungkook bottoms out. 

“Tight,” Jungkook groans, burying himself deeper into him. “Always so tight.”

Leaning his forehead onto the bookshelf, Jimin perks his ass up, signaling for Jungkook to move. He does, pace brutal regardless of Jimin’s tightness. Jimin loves it; how thick Jungkook feels, cock curling in all the right places, taking out the most unholy sounds from Jimin with just a few thrusts. Loves it even more the roughness in which Jungkook usually treats him, hooking his fingers through his hair, each pull matching with his hips thrusting hard into him. 

Like this, it's easy to forget what and who they are. A broke librarian with broken dreams falling for the star of the baseball team whose name is known for his charms and everyone he's successfully managed to get in bed. 

Jungkook fucks him with meaning, deep and harsh, like Jimin’s not just somebody he's having his fun with. Sometimes Jimin believes it, lets himself wonder through different scenarios where Jungkook is his and he is Jungkook’s. It feels nice, like this. So nice. 

But then Jungkook pounds into him harder, angling his hips just right and Jimin screams. He's already too sensitive with all the previous teasing and denied orgasm, Jungkook’s nearly-there touch ghosting over his small cock. 

“Gosh, you're so fucking beautiful, Jimin,” Jungkook grunts, sliding his left hand down Jimin’s back, tugging on his shirt to show Jimin’s pretty skin. Jungkook licks a fat stripe over his spine, leaving a wet trail behind. Jimin is unable to contain his moans anymore. “You feel so good, too. The best.” 

Jimin’s cheeks burn under the praise, pushing his ass against Jungkook, inevitably urging him to go deeper. Which he does, rhythm steady, cockhead brushing Jimin’s prostate whenever he slams his hips roughly into him.

With shaky fingers, Jimin's hand travels to his own cock, desperate to be touched. He pumps himself along Jungkook’s thrusts, sliding in and out, the obscene squelch leading Jimin over the edge. 

“Kook, ‘m close,” Jimin says, nickname heavy on his tongue. “Wanna come. Please, Kook.” 

“It's okay, love,” Jungkook nuzzles the crook of Jimin’s neck, kissing ever so softly the little sensitive area below Jimin’s jaw. Jimin mewls, lashes wet with unshed tears. “My little Jimin wanna come?”

Jimin nods desperately, words missing him when Jungkook adds more pressure. He's about to black out, the distress in his tummy becoming a fire he can't seem to put out. He's so, so close. 

“Please, Kookie, make me come.” The tiny amount of self-respect he still had is long gone. He tilts his head to face Jungkook, eyes glistening with tears and lust. “Please, Jungkookie?”

The smile Jungkook gives him is unreadable. Jimin should've known better. 

“Do you think you deserve it?” Jungkook asks, mischief undeniably clear in this tone. Jimin's speechless when Jungkook moves his hand away from his cock, locking both of his arms in place at his lower back. Jungkook's grip stings.

“Y-yes,” Jimin stutters, antsy, body buzzing with excitement. 

“I disagree.” Jungkook’s hips still. Jimin's eyes widen and he whimpers. “You've been so bad today, Jiminie. So mean to me. Maybe waiting for me to come first might teach you a lesson, don't you think?”

“What? No, please, I'm dying here,” Jimin insists, shaking his head and rolling his ass against Jungkook, trying to make him move. He doesn't, only chuckles whilst he watches Jimin’s futile attempt to fuck himself on his cock. 

“Hands off and no coming before I do, Jimin.” The authority in Jungkook’s voice is so arousing Jimin almost comes on the spot. Almost. The hairs on his nape rise, Jungkook’s lips close to his ear. “Deal?”

Nodding, Jimin complies. Jungkook lets go of his arms, only to dig his own fingers in the crown of Jimin’s head. Jimin gasps, light pain shooting through his scalp. 

“Don’t sluts ever speak? I asked you if we have a deal, Jimin.”

“Yes, yes! Deal.” 

“Good boy,” Jungkook mumbles. 

Memories of the same words being spoken hours before in another context and meaning flood Jimin’s mind. Jimin loves it as much as he hates it. Like Jungkook. And this; whatever it is. 

The pace changes. Messier, rougher, meaner. 

Jimin just wants to feel. And he does, Jungkook’s cock fills him whole, tip of his cock slightly brushing over his prostate way too many times for Jimin to contain the spasms running through his muscles. 

Jungkook pounds into him shallowly, his hips canting forward to fuck him deeper than ever. Jimin’s throat hurts from babbling, all the begging and crying finally getting to him. 

He can tell Jungkook’s close by the way he holds onto his body, fastening his thrusts.

“Fuck, Jimin, you're perfect,” Jungkook grunts, gritting his teeth. “The perfect slut.”

Praise mixes with humiliation. Jungkook bites and sucks along the curve of Jimin’s shoulders up to his neck, stealing a few kisses that Jimin has no business in resisting. It's the first time they kiss tonight, Jungkook’s tongue dipping into his mouth and licking along the seams. 

“My perfect little slut,” Jungkook’s words taste a lot like bittersweet want and desperation. Jimin thrives on it every time. 

Inside him, Jungkook’s cock twitches and Jimin is left breathless by the time Jungkook’s mouth leaves his. 

Jimin is sweating, rocking his ass back on Jungkook. What he doesn't expect is for Jungkook to withdraw entirely, leaving him empty, clutching on air. Jimin cries at the loss, turning immediately, side-eyeing Jungkook.

The sound of Jungkook’s fisting his cock is almost unholy, Jungkook hissing at the feeling of his entire palm running up and down his length. Jimin wets his bitten lips, face burning crimson in expectation as he watches Jungkook getting himself off. 

“Hold them for me, love.” Jungkook’s request doesn't sink in at first, Jimin’s puzzled look making Jungkook lightly chuckle. Then Jungkook's other hand is spreading his ass again and Jimin understands. “Like this, Jimin. Open up.”

Although he’s trembling, weak at the knees and hanging by a thread, Jimin follows through, small fingers pulling his cheeks apart. 

“Yeah, just like that. Good job.”

Softly, Jungkook pets his hair and Jimin purrs. He flutters his eyes shut, chest puffing in pride while a pouty smile sneaks into his mouth. 

It takes less than five seconds for Jungkook to come after that, pink head spurting white all over Jimin’s hole. 

“Look at you,” Jungkook’s growl is somehow animalistic as he milks every drop out, cum slipping through easily on Jimin’s perky ass. “Shit, Jimin, so pretty.”

“Jungkook, please,” Jimin’s cock twitches. He thinks he might drop dead if Jungkook doesn't let him come soon, the warmth of Jungkook’s cum on his skin making him quiver, tears welling up at the corner of his eyes. 

“It's okay, babydoll,” Jungkook says, cockhead teasing at his swollen rim. He smears as much of his cum as he can around the edges, gathering a considerable amount on the tip and pushing it inside. 

Jimin gasps, Jungkook’s still hard cock finding its home between Jimin’s walls, trapping his cum in place before pistoning his hips again, fucking Jimin back into a whining mess. The combination of lube, cum and the rest of Jungkook’s spit helps to ease the slide, Jungkook burying himself into the hilt, reaching his prostate once, twice, countless times. 

“Ah… Ah! J-Jungkook,” Jimin screams, body going lax. Shockwaves run through his veins, toes curling as he finally comes. His orgasm hits him so hard his vision blacks out with small bright dots dancing over it. Jungkook continues to pound into him, deep and slow, knocking the breath out of him as they dissolve into pleasure.

Jimin has never come untouched before, but fuck if he won't make Jungkook do it again. 

Coming down from his high, Jimin notices his legs can barely keep him standing and there are beads of cum splattered everywhere, covering half of the books on the shelves in the middle and a few books on the way. 

Does he care or is even ashamed of himself for being reckless? This is public property, after all. No, he doesn't, not when they’re both panting, Jungkook’s hands traveling to his neck, bringing him flush to his chest. Kissing is better like this, Jungkook swallowing down whatever is left of Jimin’s hoarse moans. 

Jungkook softens after a while and Jimin feels heavenly, nearly floating. He giggles, fingers cupping Jungkook’s chin so he won't let go. They kiss until they can't breathe, until they are both sucked dry, lips tired and numb. 

They pull apart, Jungkook reaching for the box of tissues strategically placed on the top shelf where only he can reach. He takes his sweet time cleaning Jimin’s ass, then turns him around to wipe off the remains of cum from his cock and thighs. Jungkook’s hand is just as warm as before and Jimin whimpers at the feeling, oversensitivity heightening.  Too tired and dizzy to join him, Jimin follows Jungkook’s movements with tired, half-lidded eyes as he brushes the tissue over the mess they just made.

When he's done, Jungkook crumples the tissues and tosses them in the trash can at their feet before pausing to stare at Jimin. and stares at him. Jimin pulls up his pants, suddenly too aware of himself. 

“That was intense,” Jungkook says, gripping Jimin’s waist, breath unsteady. “Are you okay? Did I go too far?”

There’s no indication or sign of the teasing Jeongguk Jimin is so used to or the smug attitude he's always walking around with whatsoever. His voice is soothing, careful. He’s worried now that they reversed back into their real selves, the roles they love to play already tucked away to the back of his head.

“I’m okay. It’s fine.” Jimin leans forward to nuzzle Jungkook’s cheek, the scent of musk filling his nostrils. It calms him, Jungkook’s smell. He wishes he could live like this forever, nestled onto Jungkook’s chest, wrapped in his warmth. He wishes so, but he knows he can't, that this is just a casual thing, late-night makeouts past working hours when no one else is there to see. “It was good, really good.” 

Jimin knows this won't last, so he cuddles closer, kissing Jungkook silly before he gets the chance to say anything. Before he's gone. 

“You sure? We don't have to do that kind of stuff if you don't want to.”

“I want to,” Jimin is quick to respond. 

Jungkook laughs. “Okay, then.”

“Besides,” Jimin continues, pecking Jungkook’s lips. “You have to do it again.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, narrowing his eyes. 

“Make me come untouched.”

The lightness in Jungkook’s eyes disappear, allowing the dark glint Jimin likes so much to take its place.

“Can you?” Jimin teases, scraping his teeth on Jungkook’s bottom lip.

This close, Jimin hears the groan rumbling through Jungkook’s throat. 

“Is that a bet?”

“Only if you want it to be,” Jimin shrugs, letting go. It's funny how his mind keeps telling him he needs to go before it's too late, but his body (and heart) tells him otherwise, missing Jungkook as soon as his arms aren’t around him anymore. 

“I'll take that bet and raise it. I bet I can make you come untouched twice on the same day,” Jungkook says, retrieving his baseball cap from the ground and adjusting it to cover his disheveled hair. Jimin can't even remember when Jungkook had took it off. 

“Aren't you so full of yourself?” Jimin scoffs, unable to stop the smile on his face. 

“I am when it comes to you.”

Jimin snaps his head up, bewildered, wide eyes and mouth hanging open. His heart stutters, skin tingling. 

“Shut up,” it's what he ends up saying, too shocked to reply something else. 

Jungkook grins, checking his phone for the hour. “It's late. We should go. Do you need a ride home?”

The surprises won't stop coming. Jungkook offering him to drive him home? Weird.

“Mhm, no thanks. I actually live just a few blocks away.”

“I could walk you there.”

Jimin blinks, confused, until he’s laughing. It' a nervous laugh, but a laugh nevertheless. “My knight in shining armor,” Jimin pats his shoulder awkwardly, stepping back. “Thanks, but no. I still have to clean up this place.”

Jungkook seems to ponder about it, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess I should go, then?” He replies, more like a question. 

“Yeah. Don't want coach giving you a hard time for slacking on practice tomorrow due to lack of sleep, right?” 

Jungkook looks sad, somewhat disappointed. At least, that's what Jimin thinks but, of course he isn't. Why would he? This doesn't mean anything. There is no reason to be disappointed at all, regardless of how much Jimin wants Jungkook to stay. 

“You're right,” Jungkook hums, crossing his arms.

“Off you go now. Bye bye!”

He turns around, not sure if he's expecting Jungkook to simply disappear.

To Jimin’s surprise, Jungkook’s arms latch around his waist again, chest flush against his back and lips glued to his neck. 

“No goodbye kiss, sweet cheeks?”

Jimin can't move, enthralled by Jungkook’s voice. In a heartbeat, Jimin’s mouth is etched into Jungkook’s, the kiss nothing but a brush of their lips. 

“Happy now?” Jimin mumbles, kissing Jungkook’s nose. 

“Not really.”

Jungkook kisses him one more time. Then a second, a third and Jimin loses count of all the kisses they share, moaning once Jungkook sucks on his tongue. 

Maybe this is what being drunk in love feels like. Dangerously intoxicating. Jimin has grown addicted to Jungkook’s taste. No. He's grown addicted to Jungkook and this little game they play. 

Jimin’s not ready to lose his weekly doses of Jungkook’s sweet kisses and rough touches, even though he should prepare himself for the upcoming withdrawal beforehand. 

“You should go,” Jimin whispers when they stop for air. 

“I really should,” Jungkook says, threading gently his fingers through Jimin’s hair. 

“Then go.”

“Okay,” Jungkook nods. “See you next week?”

Jimin wants to say no. “Sure.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue and brings his hand to his cap, lowering it above his eyes as a salute. 

“Goodnight, Jimin.”

Jimin snickers, waving him off.

“Goodnight, Jungkook.”

He's gone.


The next hour is spent thinking of Jungkook, cleaning up and making sure all the doors are closed before going home. Jimin wants nothing more than to take a shower, eat, and then sleep for days. He sighs heavily as soon as he walks inside the small apartment he shares with Hoseok.

Said roommate is already laid comfortably on their old couch with his phone in hand, wearing that awful pair of pajama pants he got from his grandma last Christmas. 

“Hi,” Jimin says, sliding his shoes off and throwing his backpack on the floor. 

“Hey. What took you so long?” Hoseok asks, eyes fixed on the tiny screen. 

Jimin sighs again, rubbing his neck, but doesn’t reply.

Hoseok raises his head, putting his phone aside. “Let me guess. Lover boy?”

Nodding silently, Jimin makes his way to the kitchen-slash-living room. The lack of food in the fridge should surprise him, but at this point, he’s kind of used to it. He pours himself a glass of water instead, turning his back to Hoseok, hoping that he will drop the subject if Jimin pretends he never asked. 

Things are never that easy, though. Hoseok’s arms and legs are crossed, a sly grin spread over his face.

“What?” Jimin questions innocently, as if he doesn’t know the answer.

“I’m waiting.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin shrugs, stomach growling. He opens the fridge one more time, picking up what’s left of the cheese he bought last week and a lonely tomato. A sandwich will have to do. “Do we still have bread?”

“Check the upper cabinet,” Hoseok instructs. “Also don’t lie to me. I’m your best friend, I know you better than yourself. Now spill.”

“What do you want me to say?” Jimin can feel Hoseok’s eyes on him as he prepares his lame excuse of a dinner. “That I was with Jungkook? Okay. I was.”

“Jimin,” Hoseok starts. “I know you don’t wanna hear it, but I don’t think this is good for you.”

“You don’t even know what’s good for yourself, so how would you know what’s good for me?” Jimin bites back, regretting it almost immediately after seeing Hoseok flinch where he’s still sitting. Jimin forgets about the sandwich and moves to the couch. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just stressed.”

Hoseok moves to the side, allowing Jimin to plop down next to him. 

“It’s fine, I get it,” he shrugs, smiling. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t.”

“How can you be so sure of that? Has he said anything to make things official? You guys have been fucking around for months, Jimin, and he hasn’t even asked you on a date yet,” Hoseok grunts, pushing his hair back. 

“I told you there’s nothing to worry about. This is completely harmless. It’s just fucking.”

“Is it still harmless if you’re in love with him?”

Jimin chokes, snapping his head to look at Hoseok. His ears burn hot and he can feel the flood of heat spreading through his cheeks. 

“What? Are you c-crazy? I’m n-not in love with him,” Jimin stutters, getting up quickly and going back to the kitchen. The poorly made sandwich is there waiting for him. It is hard to chew when your entire body is suddenly uneasy and tingling. Jimin tries his best, ignoring Hoseok’s giggles coming from behind him. 

“You’re gonna have to try a little bit harder to convince me and yourself that you’re not head over heels with that frat kid,” Hoseok points out, laughing to Jimin’s irritation.

He takes another mouthful of his sandwich before replying. “I am not in love with him!” Jimin shouts confidently, expecting Hoseok to believe him this time, which is a tough task when Jimin’s not even sure he believes it himself. 

“Then prove it.”

Jimin turns around, quirking his brows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, just… Go out with me tomorrow. Have fun. Hook up with other people. Just... Do something other than working and mess around with Jungkook.”

The truth is, Jimin hasn’t gone out that much lately. In fact, he hasn’t gone out in months. It surely has nothing to do with the fact that he started seeing Jungkook. Fucking, not seeing. That’s not what they do. And he’s not in love with him. Hopefully. 

Finishing his sandwich, Jimin leans against the kitchen counter, tapping his fingers on the top mindlessly. Jimin is just as stubborn as Hoseok and admitting that Hoseok might be right is the same thing as accepting he’s anything other than having no-feelings sex with Jungkook. 

So he nods, making up his mind. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Hoseok’s grin widens.

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Hoseok claps enthusiastically, loud laughter echoing around the apartment. “Oh my God! Tae is gonna love this, let me text him real quick.” 

Rolling his eyes, Jimin scoffs, attention redirected to the sink to clean the few crumbles off it and putting everything back in place. He can hear Hoseok typing away on his phone, probably joking with Taehyung and the rest of their friends about Jimin and the expectation of a night out.

Jimin could even check his own phone and see it for himself, deciding against it. He doesn’t need that right now, all he needs is to forget about Jungkook and focus solely on whatever’s going to happen tomorrow night.

He can do this, there’s no need to be apprehensive. He’s not in love with Jungkook. He’s not. He can’t be. 


“Damn,” Hoseok whistles. “You look hot.”

“Thanks,” Jimin says, smiling. His reflection shines in the mirror and Jimin doesn't hide his smirk, accepting the compliment wholeheartedly because he is, in fact, hot. It’s not like he hasn’t spent the past hour re-doing his eyeliner and blending his eyeshadow to perfection or anything. 

Hoseok flees to his undone bed and takes a seat at the edge. He’s unsurprisingly hot, too, with his hair laid back and a combination of clothes that would definitely look terrible on Jimin and, well, anyone else, really. Jimin hates that Hoseok is so effortlessly beautiful when he needs to stay behind for hours to conquer his messy hair and conceal the dark purple bags under his eyes. It’s unfair. Jimin frowns as he returns his attention to the mirror and inspects his outfit again. 

A pair of his nicest skinny jeans hug his thighs making them look twice the size, but that’s exactly what he wants. He’s on a mission and hey, it would be a sin to not use his god-tier attributes to his own advantage. The shirt hanging loosely on his collarbones is black, see-through sleeves making a show of his arms. He did a hell of a great job on himself and he's pretty proud of it. He's had enough of the boring glasses and baggy sweaters. 

The librarian concept he's been trying so hard to not dwell too much on is gone, completely replaced by a whole new Jimin. 

“You really outdid yourself tonight, huh,” Hoseok laughs, wiggling his brows to which Jimin just scoffs. He won’t admit that out loud, especially since this is all a move to get Hoseok out of his fucking back. But he’d be damned if he said he didn't like this version of himself. 

“Just wanted to look pretty, that’s all. I haven’t gone to a club in a while so.” Jimin shrugs, grabbing the tiny lipstick bottle and adding another thick layer of gloss on his lips.

Hoseok shifts uncomfortably, looking suspiciously guilty. Inevitably, Jimin turns around, brows quirked in confusion. “You got that face on. What is it?” 

“I’d just like to remind you that I never said we would, you know, go to a club. So, really, that’s your fault for assuming that,” Hoseok starts, stumbling on his words. 

He already regrets asking. Narrowing his eyes, he says, “Hoseok.”

“So, you know like, how Taehyung is very good friends with some kids that go to UoM, right? And we’re broke, so there’s that. They’re throwing a party,” Hoseok gulps. Jimin’s stare could kill. “Uh, on campus. Frat party?”

“Please tell me this is not what I’m thinking,” Jimin fakes a smile, calmly walking towards Hoseok, stopping right in front of him, close enough to catch Hoseok’s hands shaking. He seems scared, eyes growing big like a puppy. If Jimin is right, then he should be. 

Hoseok continues, talking too fast, tone getting higher and higher by each word coming out of his mouth. “It’s not, I swear. I’ve checked, it’s not his frat house or anything. It’s just, you know, on campus. And I know you don’t like to be there and all but it’s free, and, again, we’re broke, so that means free entrance and free booze and maybe, just maybe, free food? Tae said the guys from that frat house are actually pretty nice and not stuck-up or living off their daddy’s money. Might be cool. Unless you don’t wanna go. Which is fine, I get it, bro.” 

Sighing, Jimin steps back. Despite the fact that he was lied to—okay, misinformed—Hoseok’s enthusiasm can still be seen in the way his eyes sparkle and Jimin is too tired and angry to throw a fit right now. He just wants to get drunk, dance until his legs are burning and have some fun, for fuck’s sake! He even got all dolled up for that so, really, there's only one reasonable option here and Jimin hates himself for it.

“Alright,” he blurts out, distress clear in his voice. Hoseok perks up immediately, a wide smile growing across his face. “With one condition, though.”

To that, Hoseok’s smile falters. “What is it?”

“A month of laundry and cleaning my room.”

Hoseok’s jaw drops. “No fucking way! Your room is disgusting. I’m not touching,” he gestures to, apparently, everywhere. “This.” 

“Okay, then. I’m not going. And neither are you,” Jimin says, crossing his arms and stomping his foot. 

A low whine forms in Hoseok’s throat and after what seems an eternity of debating with himself and internal screaming, Hoseok stands up and throws his hands up, defeated. “Ugh, fine! But you can’t bail on me tonight, no matter what happens. You have to stay the whole night and have fun. Got it?” 

Jimin snickers, unbothered. If Hoseok wants to challenge him after straight-up hiding this extremely important piece of information about their little party (to which Jimin, of course, would have refused to go, duh), then so be it. 

“Sure. We’ll see about that.”


It just so happens that the party is everything Jimin thought it would be and more.

He hates it. 

Hoseok already seems to be in an entirely different reality with Taehyung giggling at his side, both of them drunk out of their minds after eating a few vodka gummy bears and god only knows how many tequila shots.

Jimin is quite tipsy himself, still sipping on the disgusting drink Seokjin, Taehyung’s friend and also party host, had prepared for him with something that looks like vodka but smells ten times stronger and tastes ten times worse. 

What a waste, Jimin thinks, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen wall and watching a sea of sweaty bodies he’s never seen before dancing around the living room.

He takes another sip and then another, and before long his cup is already empty. Jimin’s angry, slightly light-headed and wishing he hadn't chosen those damn jeans after all. He wishes he hadn't even come in the first place. 

He wishes he’d stayed home and slept even though it’s Friday night. But he’s already here, and Hoseok might be trading a considerable amount of saliva with Taehyung, but Jimin knows that if he attempts to leave, he'll hear no end of it for weeks. 

The bottle of whatever it was that Seokjin chugged down earlier remains at the same spot on the kitchen counter when he comes back to grab it. Pouring half its content into his cup, Jimin barely notices the tap on his shoulder. 

Turning around, he’s met with a dazzling, dimpled smile. Jimin’s legs go numb and he can’t tell if it’s due to the alcohol in his system or the stranger’s beautiful eyes. 

“Hey,” the stranger greets, his broad shoulders the next thing Jimin notices. Jimin swallows dry, the cup in hand forgotten and suddenly not so interesting anymore. 

“Hey you,” Jimin says it back, allowing a coy smile to grow on his lips. The stranger’s smile widens, blinding Jimin to no end or maybe it was the neon lights. Definitely the lights. 



They exchange greetings, dimple guy (Namjoon, now), rubbing the back of his head shyly and Jimin finds the act simply too endearing to ignore. He manages to hide a giggle, biting down his lips to keep it quiet. Namjoon’s cheeks are flushed crimson and Jimin wonders if he’s naturally not the flirty type. Nonetheless, it’s cute. 

“I, uh,” Namjoon clears his throat, hovering too close. Jimin doesn’t mind. “I’m not very good at this, you know? Parties and talking to pretty boys and shit. But I saw you alone here and I thought, well, that it might be worth a shot? I guess you could say I knew I’d probably regret if I’d left and never asked you to dance with me.”

Namjoon rambles, hands all over the place. It’s so endearing that Jimin resists the urge to coo.

“So you think I’m pretty, huh?” Jimin says, slinking closer. Namjoon’s cologne smells like sweet vanilla. It suits him perfectly.

His eyes widen, mouth popping open comically as he stutters. “W-what? I mean, yeah, sure. I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to offend you—”

Laughter rumbles from Jimin’s chest, his head lolling forward to touch Namjoon’s shoulder. “I’d love to dance,” Jimin says, peeking up through his eyelashes and batting them at Namjoon, whose face turns a funny shade of red. Jimin breaks out into another fit of giggles, feeling surprisingly weightless.

On any other day, Jimin wouldn’t engage in any guy’s attempt to get into his pants, not even handsome and charming guys like Namjoon. Though Jimin highly doubts this is the kind of situation he’s dealing with considering the way Namjoon’s looking at him, gleeful yet nervous.

Jimin is lightheaded, bored out of his mind, and there’s something akin to sadness settled deep in his chest. He hasn’t decided what it means quite yet, but he decides the best way to ignore it is to go dance with this handsome stranger. It’s a party, after all. So he fists Namjoon’s shirt and leads him to the living room. He follows, seemingly awestruck by Jimin’s straightforwardness.

The improvised dance floor is crowded with way too many college kids he despises but Jimin tries not to think about that, draping his arms around Namjoon’s neck and pulling him down just enough to meet his eyes. 

“I feel like I should warn you, though,” Namjoon starts, voice almost impossible to distinguish under the loud beat of the music echoing in the room. He leans in until his mouth nearly brushes Jimin’s ear, hands gripping his hips. “I don’t know how to dance.”

“Don’t worry,” Jimin says playfully. He tilts his head and winks. “I’ll teach you how.”

Slowly, Jimin sways his hips along to the beat with Namjoon’s body copying his every move. Before long Namjoon is flushed all the way to his ears and he gasps when Jimin thrusts a little bit rougher than he means to, making him notice Namjoon’s big excitement against his stomach.

It truly baffles him how Namjoon shakes to his core, gulping whenever Jimin does this or does that, giggling his way out of guilt and fluttering his eyes innocently. He’s having too much fun teasing Namjoon, even though the song isn’t half as sensual as their dancing implies.

“You’re really good at this,” Namjoon manages to say after a while, appearing out of breath. His eyes are hazy, burning in admiration and something else.

“Thanks.” Jimin shrugs, running his fingers through his hair.

“How come I’ve never seen you around before?” Namjoon asks. It’s more of a rhetorical question Jimin knows he doesn’t have to answer, but he does anyway.

“M’not a student,” Jimin says, not in the mood to talk. He’d prefer if Namjoon stays gorgeous and quiet.

“Makes sense.” Namjoon nods, nose scrunching as his stares at somewhere behind Jimin.

That statement makes Jimin blood boil. 

He steps back, releasing himself from Namjoon’s hold. Namjoon averts his gaze to Jimin with a questioning look on his face.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin’s one second away from exploding. He’d been managing to have a good time despite his poor mood, but of course Namjoon had gone and fucking ruined it, just like everyone else at this goddamn university.

“Huh? Wait, what? Did I say something wrong?” Namjoon’s brows furrow, closing the space between them to grab Jimin’s hand. Jimin’s expression must have said enough, because Namjoon opens and closes his mouth two, three times, dropping Jimin’s hand in confusion before he speaks again. “I only meant that it makes sense you don’t go here because there’s no way I would have missed you around campus if you did.”

Jimin huffs, visibly annoyed. 

Namjoon continues. “You’re really pretty, Jimin, you know that? I’m not stupid, but I would’ve been if we’ve ever crossed ways and I’d never asked for your number.” He smiles so warmly Jimin melts a little. “Sorry, I don’t know why you got so defensive because of that, but I really didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

Jimin sighs, internally face-palming himself for overreacting. What was he expecting, anyway? That Namjoon thought he looked too dumb or poor to go here?

“It’s fine. I’m sorry, too. I just.. Whatever,” Jimin tries to dismiss the sudden dark mood hanging over them by leaning against Namjoon again, reaching for the same hand Namjoon had offered him earlier. “Dance with me.” 

Namjoon nods and Jimin doesn’t miss the way his lips turns into a smirk. 

It takes a few songs before Namjoon gets the hang of it, grinding his hips against Jimin’s in a very appealing way that makes Jimin have to swallow down little moans. That won’t do; he turns the game back around, spinning to face the crowd with his back pressed to Namjoon’s chest. His hands instantly go to Jimin’s body, roaming and scratching gently under Jimin’s shirt, bulge pressing against the swell of his ass.

Jimin lets himself relish in the moment, grinning when Namjoon kisses the spot next to his left ear and down to his neck. His lips are warm, breath so hot that it makes Jimin shiver. It feels nice, to be wanted by someone who isn’t… 

He shakes his head, adamant on not thinking, just letting go. And he does, for as long as his mind gives him permission to, because suddenly Namjoon is spinning him around, their noses touching as Namjoon licks his own plump lips and gives them a quick bite, too. Jimin does the same, whimpering in anticipation.

It takes a minute too long, Jimin thinks, until Namjoon’s latching his mouth onto Jimin’s in a kiss. It’s soft at first, Namjoon suckling on Jimin’s bottom lip as his fingers dig harshly into the meat of his ass. Jimin mewls and Namjoon doesn’t wait any longer to deepen the kiss, tongue swiping into Jimin’s mouth until all he can taste is sharp, strong alcohol.

Jimin’s cock twitches in interest, when Namjoon’s large hands fully cup his ass to pull their hips together. A breathy moan escapes his lips but Namjoon doesn’t even hear it, swallowing it all down.

Namjoon traps Jimin’s lip between his teeth and that’s when Jimin feels it. The shock of reality is much more painful than Namjoon’s teasing and it would have been perfect if it weren’t for the fact that Namjoon isn’t Jungkook. That the tongue spreading his mouth open and stealing moans from him isn’t as persuasive as Jungkook’s, that the hands caressing his skin lack the warmth of Jungkook’s, that the kiss is everything that Jimin needs but nothing that he wants.

He straddles Namjoon with more strength than necessary, nails digging into his nape, bringing him impossibly closer. Jimin bites and sucks and maybe even bruises, but he can’t help it. Not when he’s desperately trying to forget, trying to ease his mind into appreciating what he has here and now, and focus solely on how good Namjoon could make him feel, how good he already is making him feel.

However, Jimin’s heart is a fucking traitor and seems to agree with his head all of sudden. It usually leaves Jimin on edge without knowing what to do, but apparently, both his sense and sensibility are trying to fuck him over tonight. Because again, Namjoon is not Jungkook and Jimin hates how he wants him to be.

Namjoon is unaware of Jimin’s inner desperation, blind to Jimin’s struggle to let go. Eventually, Namjoon breaks the kiss and takes a long breath. His eyes are glazed with lust, cute dimples gone as Namjoon eats him up in one go like an animal ready to devour him. Sweet Namjoon definitely was a façade Jimin had been way too eager to indulge, but not now. Not anymore. 

The next time Namjoon launches to glue their lips together, Jimin turns, once again pressing his back against Namjoon’s chest. It’s impossible to think with Namjoon’s luscious lips on his.

Jungkook is all he can think about and Jimin should’ve been smarter than to come to this stupid party filled with stupider people, because right in front of him, stands Jungkook, tall and smug like he always is with his tongue down some girl’s throat. 

He’s glued to the spot. He hardly even registers Namjoon’s mouth still hot on his neck, like the touch is happening in a world far, far away from him.

The light in the room is dim so he can hardly see, but the stab deep in his gut is real, the ache is his chest is too unbearable to dismiss and Jimin’s seen Jungkook’s varsity jacket and that ridiculous baseball cap way too many times to pretend that the guy a few feet away isn’t him.

His eyes are closed and the girl seems to be having the time of her life as Jungkook takes his time to kiss her slow and languidly. There’s a small crowd gathered around them, some cheering and whistling until Jungkook picks the girl up, her legs closing around his waist and the show goes on.

Jimin swallows around the lump in his throat, the taste of Namjoon’s kisses turning bitter and making him sick. Jimin feels like he’s on the verge of throwing up and if he stays here, he sure as hell will.

“I need to go,” he says, not even bothering to check if Namjoon heard him or not, but he registers his name being called as he runs to the door, wanting to get as far away as possible from Namjoon, Jungkook, and the blonde bitch he’s currently using.

That’s what Jungkook does, right? Notorious fuckboy Jungkook, golden star of the baseball team and all the titles Jimin’s tired of hearing does that. Uses and abuses them until he’s satisfied and the hole of the moment is left crying and heartbroken. But Jimin won’t give him the satisfaction. His heart isn’t broken and he definitely isn’t crying. 

Namjoon calls his name again and he peeks over his shoulder, watching Namjoon wave him goodbye with a distressed look on his face. Curiosity eats him up and he spares a glance at Jungkook, who he swears is looking right at him.

“Jimin, oh my god, I’ve been looking for you!” A wild and very drunk Hoseok appears, covering Jimin’s sight of Jungkook. He’s bubbly and sporting a wide smile. Jimin would like nothing more than to punch it off his face.

“I’m going home,” he announces, already walking to the door. 

“Hey, hey.” Hoseok stops him, gripping his arm. “But you promised to stay ‘till the end!”

Hoseok pouts but Jimin’s not having any of it right now. “I never promised shit. Let me go, Hoseok.”

“Why? What happened?” Hoseok sobers up quickly, worried eyes asking questions Jimin can’t answer right now. 

Jimin sighs, looking over Hoseok’s shoulder. Jungkook’s still there, the girl attached to his mouth like a fucking leech. 

Hoseok follows his eyes, gasping in realization. “Is that…?”

“Yeah, it is,” Jimin’s putting so much effort into not giving in to the tears but Hoseok’s not really helping. 

“Fuck, Jimin. I’m sorry,” Hoseok says and the last thing Jimin needs is Hoseok’s pity. 

“It’s fine. I just need to go, okay?”

“Okay, let me get my coat and tell Tae—”

“No,” Jimin interrupts, Hoseok stopping at his harsh tone. “Stay and have fun. I just need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Kay,” Hoseok eventually agrees, shaking his head. “But call me if you need me.”

“I will.” Jimin gives Hoseok a light squeeze on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

Jimin leaves and doesn’t look back. 

The word why repeats itself in many forms over and over again in Jimin’s head. Why did he go to the party? Why did he kiss Namjoon? Why did Jungkook kiss someone else? Why did he leave? Why does he care?

It's easier to lie to himself and pretend he doesn't know the answer when his aching heart tells him otherwise. But the rest of the night is spent without sleep as he dwells on self-pitying thoughts under his blankets.

When sleep finally comes at ass o’clock, Jimin dreams about doe-eyes and bunny teeth. He wakes up even more confused than before, but at least he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t allow himself to.

He's not really into the idea of getting out of bed today. not even when his stomach growls and his bladder begs to be emptied from all the alcohol he indulged in the night before. Jimin’s fine right where he is, hiding away from the pain and the excruciating reality waiting for him outside. He decides there’s nothing in the world that can make him get up.

Until Hoseok walks in.

“Get up,” Hoseok stands with his arms crossed at the foot of his bed, looking at Jimin the exact same way his mother used to when she was scolding him for his bad behavior. 

“No.” Jimin pulls the blanket up to cover his face. Maybe if he stays hidden long enough, Hoseok will eventually give up and forget he exists. 

It's pure wishful thinking, clearly, as Hoseok’s hands suddenly are grabbing his arm and dragging Jimin out of his blankets.

“Can't a guy just die in peace nowadays?” Jimin asks nonchalantly, rolling his eyes as he pouts away. 

Hoseok glares at him and scoffs. “Nope,” he says, popping the p. “Now come on, as your best friend, or only friend, I guess,” Jimin gasps at that, offended. Hoseok just shrugs, continuing, “It’s my duty to cheer you up during times of need, and considering your smell, because I'm pretty sure you haven't showered yet, and your swollen face and sad lonely eyes, this is one of those times. So, I'm taking you out to get breakfast in that fancy bakery you like and will even pay for the whole thing. That's just how much of an awesome best friend I am.” Hoseok is rambling and Jimin is positive he's going to have a headache at the end of it. “And as an apology since I'm the one who made you go that stupid party in the first place.”

A teary-eyed Hoseok plops on the bed next to Jimin, and it takes everything in him to not just kick him over for no reason other than to see him fall.

“Please forgive me, Jiminie. I'm really sorry about last night,” Hoseok gives him his traditional puppy eyes and as much as Jimin wants someone to take the blame, no one can other than himself.

“There's nothing to forgive, really.” Jimin smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

“I should've never made you go to that fucking frat house. I can't believe he did that,” Hoseok breathes, curling into Jimin’s side. He tends to be very touchy in emotional and sensitive moments, which right now happens to be. Jimin doesn’t mind, though, turning to nuzzle into his friend’s chest. It’s comforting and warm, and Jimin doesn’t feel so empty like this.

“You couldn't have known. Besides, we're not together. Never have been. He can do whatever he wants, I don't care.” Jimin tries to sound brave, but his voice shakes, lips trembling at the verge of tears.

“It's okay to like him, you know.” 

“I know,” Jimin says, blinking the tears away. He hasn’t cried yet and he most certainly won’t cry now.

They stay like that for a while, Hoseok holding him close as he gently combs through Jimin’s hair. The silence isn’t uncomfortable and Jimin’s grateful to have Hoseok in his life, although he would very much appreciate if the latter could, you know, loosen his grip a little and actually let him get up, but every time he tries, Hoseok makes sure to keep him still, shushing him into bed again.

When Jimin’s arms start to tingle from Hoseok’s heavy head lying on them, he finally gets up. A groaning and complaining Hoseok mumbles about how he understands now why Jimin wanted to stay in bed. Jimin laughs, unwinding himself the rest of the way from Hoseok to head to the bathroom for a quick shower.

He comes back to discover that Hoseok hasn’t moved at all, dozing off and drooling on Jimin’s pillow. He rolls his eyes and crosses the room to his closet, changing into something comfy. He doesn’t feel like putting any effort into his looks today.

Hoseok looks really calm, having turned himself into a blanket burrito while sleeping. Jimin can’t help but indulge the little monster in his head when he quickly pulls his pillow out from underneath him and smacks him in the face with it.

Laughter fills the room when Hoseok promptly jumps out of bed, all disheveled hair as he screams at Jimin for being a heartless demon. Jimin only shrugs and laughs louder, Hoseok swearing and promising his revenge under his breath as he follows Jimin out the door. Jimin just giggles, because god knows Jung Hoseok doesn’t have the heart to do anything serious. 

“Now let’s go, I’m hungry,” Jimin says.

“This friendship is such a lie, you only use me for my money,” Hoseok says, pouting.

Jimin smirks. “Does that mean you’re my sugar daddy?” 

“You wish, baby,” Hoseok scoffs, petting Jimin’s head. “You wish.”

The bakery isn’t far from their apartment and sure, taking the bus would have lessened the time considerably for ten or so minutes, but Jimin doesn’t mind the walk. Hoseok’s chatting all the way and Jimin tries to listen and give some input here and there sometimes, glad that Hoseok’s doing all the talk, though his head doesn’t want to cooperate.

He can’t stop thinking about Jungkook and there’s a part of him that hates how easily attached he’d become and another that misses Jungkook and wants to forgive, to forget. Which is such an stupid idea, because like he said to Hoseok, there’s nothing to forgive. They fucked, that’s what they did, despite what Jimin’s traitorous heart might think. So, really, forgetting is the best option, but Jimin can’t seem to know how. 

Trying is what he can do, but failing is what he is doing instead. Or falling, whatever.

Hoseok’s laughing at something Jimin didn’t really hear, only noticing they’ve arrived when he looks up from his feet and sees the well-known place he’s grown to love. The smell of freshly baked goods is great even from outside and Jimin then realizes that he’s starving. 

“Fuck,” Hoseok blurts, opening the door for them. “I’m so screwed. My bank account is already sobbing. Why did I offer to pay for this?”

“Because you love me.” Jimin wiggles his brows, smiling. The smell is even better inside. “And as you lovingly pointed out, it is your duty as my best and only friend to cheer me up.” 

Hoseok is just about to say something back, probably call him out, when he stops, eyes widening. Jimin frowns, turning to look at whatever Hoseok’s starting at. He regrets his decision as soon as he spots the jacket he knows all too well.

Jungkook and his friends are just a few customers away from them in line and even if Jungkook weren’t wearing that stupid varsity jacket and his favorite cap, Jimin would’ve recognized him anywhere. 

“Jimin, we can go somewhere else, if you want,” Hoseok suggests, getting in front of Jimin in what seems like a way of covering whatever damage seeing Jungkook there can cause. It’s too late, because Jimin’s heart has already sunk into the pit of his stomach and he doesn’t know what he’s feeling, he only knows he feels, feels so much he wants to explode. 

“No, it’s fine,” he says, throat dry and palms sweaty. “We’re not leaving.”

It’s final and Hoseok understands the message, even though he takes Jimin’s hand in his and squeezes it reassuringly. Jimin’s smile is thin, but it’s still something.

He knew he’d have to face Jungkook eventually, but he wasn’t expecting to do it quite so soon. Maybe it just for the best, or maybe it’s the world spitting in his face and relishing in his suffering.

And that sounds just about right when Jimin catches one of Jungkook’s friends saying, “Did you see his face when he left the party? He looked livid.”

Anxiety creeps up in his chest and Hoseok tightens the grip on his hand, a friendly reminder to keep him grounded. It would have worked if it weren’t for the giggles and mocking tone they throw out as they continue.


“Bet he would’ve punched someone right there.”


“He was so mad!”


“He definitely cried, don’t you think?” 


They laugh and laugh and Jimin hears Jungkook joining them too, voice low as he mumbles a teasing shut up. He’s heard it before, he’s used to it by now, has seen and been with Jungkook too many times to not know what it means. And if his heart wasn’t broken before, it surely is now, because there’s nothing worse than to be laughed at and treated as some kind of joke by the person you’re in love with.

The urge to cry is so strong he barely manages to hold it in, legs shaking violently as Hoseok talks sweetly in his ear to calm him down. But he can’t he can’t calm down and frankly, he doesn’t want to.

He forces himself to look up and face the reason he’s shattering. The laughter dies down once he does, because Jungkook is staring right back at him, doe-eyes glimmering in shock and realization. Everyone between them disappears and Jimin can only see Jungkook, opening and closing his mouth, looking like he wants to say something but giving up each time.

Jimin doesn’t wait to see if he finds the words to speak, turning on his heels and leaving them behind. He’s sure Hoseok is yelling his name, but at this point, he doesn’t give a single fuck about whether Hoseok is following or not. 

The rushed footsteps behind Jimin makes him assume Hoseok has indeed stepped out to go after him, but the hand gripping at his wrist and slowly turning him around isn’t his.

“Hey, sweet cheeks.”

Mixed emotions flow through his body. The way Jungkook says his name sounds like bells to his ears but feels a lot like getting stabbed countless times.

“Let me go.” Jimin’s not asking as much as he’s demanding, his tone biting. "And don't fucking call me that."

And just like that Jungkook lets go, like touching Jimin physically hurts. To Jimin, it does, it really does. 

“Jimin, please, talk to me.” Jungkook steps toward Jimin while Jimin steps back.

“Talk to you about what, exactly? About how much of a joke I am to you and your precious little group of friends?” Jimin narrows his eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears already forming at the corners, but he would be damned if he ever let himself break down in front of Jungkook.

“What are you even talking about?” Jungkook looks surprised and though he reaches for Jimin, all he can do is dodge Jungkook’s hand and curl into himself, crossing his arms around his chest protectively. 

“Are you stupid or something? Or you’re simply enjoying making me look like a goddamn clown?” Jimin raises his voice, a lump forming in his throat just from saying it out loud.

He’s such an idiot for believing Jungkook could ever be different. 

“Jimin, I don’t get it, why—”

Jungkook is cut before he can finish it. 

“You don’t get it? So you’re really going to do this.” Jimin shakes his head in disbelief, a nasty smile hanging on his lips. “Fine, then. You want to play dumb, okay, we’re playing dumb. So you weren’t talking about me in there?”

“No,” Jungkook is quick to reply. “I mean, yeah, kinda, but it’s not what you think.”

Jimin laughs bitterly and Jungkook recoils. Jimin’s so angry he barely notices the small crowd gathered around them, remembering they are making a scene in a very busy street. 

“Of course it’s not what I think. How silly of me! You making out with that girl last night was also not what I think, right?” 

“Jimin, if you just listen to me,” Jungkook’s voice is cracking, begging. Jimin hears the hurt in it but doesn’t find in himself to care. 

“You know what? It’s my fault, really. I knew what I was getting myself into when we started whatever the fuck we were doing. I mean, who doesn’t know about the great Jeon Jungkook, campus heartthrob and notorious fuckboy? What was I thinking when I even considered being with a frat boy like you? So honestly, I can't even blame you for me thinking I wasn’t just another disposable hole that you liked to use sometimes.” Jimin spits out, anger building up in his blood and making it boil. It’s harsh and deadly and probably the worst thing he’s ever said to anyone in his life. 

He thought he would feel relieved to let it all out, but the look of utter pain and desperation in Jungkook’s incredibly dark eyes makes it difficult. Jungkook drops his hand and walks up to Jimin, slowly, dangerously. He’s ready for Jungkook to brush it aside and agree with him, tell him that he is right and this was nothing but a fun fling between them. But the smug look and Jungkook’s usual playfulness never comes and Jimin wishes it did because he’s not prepared for what Jungkook says next.

“You wanna know why they were laughing?” Jungkook asks, it’s so surprisingly calm it sends shivers down Jimin’s spine. Still, Jimin nods. “They were laughing at me.”

“Why would they be—”

“It’s my turn to talk now, Jimin.”

Jimin makes himself smaller, unable to go against Jungkook. 

“They were teasing me because I was so mad that you were with someone else last night that I actually tried to hook up with a girl and I couldn’t. I couldn’t fucking do it cause all I could think about was you. And then you left and I was so angry at myself and at the guy you were kissing, wishing that was me , and they know it, because they’ve known it for months now that I’m crazy about you and apparently you’re the only one who doesn’t see it.”

There’s a moment of silence and Jimin can’t breathe.

“But that doesn’t really matter, does it? You made it perfectly clear what you think of me.”


“I’m just another stupid frat boy. A fuckboy right? Not good enough for you.” 

There are so many things going on in Jimin’s head and so many things untold that Jimin can't even begin to understand. He's a broken mess, one minute away from crashing into a million pieces. 

“I, Jungkook, I—” 

“No.” Jungkook stops him. Jimin hadn’t even realized that he’d stepped forward and leaned in toward Jungkook.

“Save it for someone who cares.”

Jimin never thought his heart could possibly break even more, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been terribly wrong. 

Jungkook adjusts the jacket on his body, fixing the hat on his head and hiding his face under it.

And when Jungkook is gone and Jimin’s left alone in the middle of the street, all he can think about is the lonely tear on Jungkook’s cheek.



No matter how much Jimin tries he can’t stop crying. He cries himself to sleep every night after that for a whole week, and when he’s sure he has no more tears left to cry he wakes up as tired as the night before, wanting nothing more than to get back in bed and never leave.

But real life claims his attention. He has bills to pay, rent to afford and classes to attend, so he can’t just lay in bed all day. Unfortunately, focusing on his lectures has become impossible and he can hardly help the few students who stop by at the library either. 

Going to work hurts because that’s where it all started and the entire place reminds him of the only thing he wants desperately to not think about. Not that he’s being successful at that, since Jungkook is the main character in the personal drama he’s living in. 

Mostly, he doesn’t understand how or when they got to the point of no return. Jungkook had said he likes him. Likes him, as in the present, not the past. But it may as well be Jimin’s past now, because there’s no way Jungkook would ever want to face him after what he said.

Jimin struggles internally while he fights with himself every time his mind tells him how stupid he was to assume Jungkook didn’t want him. To believe in gossip and turn the idea of fake Jungkook into reality. His reality. 

Hoseok had tried to comfort him during the nights when Jimin was sobbing too hard, but not even his best friend could do anything about the pain and regret in his chest.

Jimin should’ve known better than to judge a book by its cover—he’s a librarian, after all. Was he so blind to his own judgment to see past the idea of Jungkook being anything other than a fuckboy like everyone kept saying? Was he so angry at Jungkook for having what he could never have that he never considered other possibilities? Or was he so scared to let himself feel for the first time in so long that the likelihood of finding that in Jungkook was so intimidating and unimaginable that he made sure to never let it happen? 

He doesn’t have an answer yet and maybe he never will, unless he proactively searches for it. Jimin’s just not sure if he has what it takes to find it.

The universe, however, has its own way of playing with Jimin’s head. Although Jimin has been thinking about what he’d say to Jungkook if he ever saw him again, he gets the opportunity to do so when Jungkook stomps into the library one Friday afternoon, a pile of books in his arms and what looks like determination stamped all over his face.

Jimin’s heart skips at least five beats and he’s sure there’s a 99% chance that he won’t make it out of this alive. He tries to look nonchalant, like Jungkook’s presence isn’t affecting him at all.

Jungkook doesn’t seem that affected either, dropping the books on the counter Jimin’s currently sitting behind. For a moment, Jimin sees a sparkle in Jungkook’s eyes but it’s gone as fast as it came. 

Jimin’s thought about this for quite a while now. It’s finally his chance to stop the pain in his chest and maybe the butterflies in his stomach. But before he gets to speak, Jungkook cuts in.

“These are all the books I had at home,” he gives him the cold shoulder, voice stiff as he clicks his tongue like he’s in a hurry. 

There are a least ten books in front of him and Jimin scratches the back of his head in a solid attempt to make it look like he’s not ready to flee the fuck out of there. Besides, he doesn’t remember Jungkook borrowing that many books. In fact, if Jungkook had taken that many, he should’ve have brought them back a long, long time ago. 

“How…” Jimin starts, confusion clear in his voice and the little frown of his brows. 

“You didn’t even notice, did you?” Jungkook asks, suddenly so small and the big bad boy show he was putting on disappears. “Unbelievable.” 

“I…” Jimin wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out so he refrains from telling him what's on his mind and goes with a simple “I don't understand.”

“Of course you don't,” Jungkook tsks, rolling his eyes and walking away from the books and from Jimin.

Jimin stands up, the chair falling behind him. The loud thump of it hitting the floor echoes in the otherwise silent library. Some people give them dirty looks but right now Jimin couldn’t care less.


“What do you want, Jimin?” Jungkook sounds just as tired as Jimin feels. 

“Come with me. Please?” Jimin almost begs, heart trapped in his throat as he gives himself an internal pep talk that he’s capable of having a conversation with Jungkook without breaking down. 

Jungkook appears to think about it, like he’s struggling to decide if he should accept or not. In the end he does, following Jimin to that one spot, their spot, between sections twelve and thirteen, where everything started and might also end.

Jimin is shaking, palms sweating as his head spins and spins, trying to gather his thoughts together to say what he needs to say. Jungkook waits, leaning against the bookshelf. He looks good like that, arms crossed, messy hair tucked in his cap. Jimin hasn’t actually seen Jungkook without his UoM letterman jacket before, but today he looks like any other guy, a guy Jimin could see himself dating and holding hands with, clad in gray sweats and oversized white shirt.

He looks good, really good and Jimin tries to ignore the twist in his chest as he looks at him.

“So?” Jungkook suggests, after what seems like forever. “What do you want?”

“Why are you here? Why did you keep these books for so long?” It’s not exactly what Jimin wants to know, but it’s the best he can do right now. 

Jungkook snickers, shaking his head. “You’re really oblivious, aren’t you, Jimin?” 

Jimin looks anywhere but Jungkook and nods. Jungkook continues. 

“I didn’t need to come here for these books, you know? The campus library has everything I needed.”

“Then why?” Jimin asks, anxious and terrified. “Why did you keep coming here?”

“For you!” Jungkook doesn’t yell, but his words ring loud in Jimin’s… everything. Jungkook comes closer, cornering Jimin until there’s no air in his lungs, only Jungkook’s smell and Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. “I kept coming here for you! I got all those stupid fucking books thinking at least I’d have an excuse to talk to you, but you didn’t even notice! And believe me, I tried so fucking hard to get you out my mind because I knew you just weren’t into me like that, since you always had an excuse to lock me out of your life. I kept coming back because having part of you was better than not having you at all.” 

Jimin swallows the urge to scream.

“How the hell was I supposed to know that? I’m sorry Jungkook, but you’re not the most obvious guy in the world. I had no idea you wanted more than what you had and if you had just said that…”

Jungkook is so close, it’s almost impossible to think straight, his breath hot against his skin. “What would happen? Would you have said yes?”

Jimin can’t take it anymore. “Yes! Yes, I would. I am so fucking sorry for what I said, I was so angry thinking you and your friends were making fun of me, I panicked, okay? I panicked and when I panic I say shit I don’t mean and half the time I don’t even know what I’m saying. I didn’t know you liked me, I didn’t know you weren’t in it just for fun, I didn’t know!”


“No, just… let me talk.” The tears he’s been holding back start spilling down his cheeks, a loss for his self-control today. They blur his vision but he’s determined to go on.

“I’m not part of your world, Jungkook. I’m not rich, I’m not a sporty kind of guy. I’m working my ass off to pay half the rent of a shitty apartment and sometimes I don’t even have enough money to buy groceries at the end of the week. Community college is all I have besides this job I really hate, and I was so scared that you didn’t want me to be part of your world, that you only wanted to be with me because it was easy and safe. I’m a nobody, Jungkook. And hearing what everyone said about you…” Jimin pauses, sniffling. “I know, I know I shouldn’t have listened to any of it and should’ve talked you in the first place, but I didn’t know. Then I saw you with that girl and everything just… I was heartbroken, ok? Cause I’m so fucking in love with you and it was too much. I’m so sorry, I really am. I just… didn’t know.”

Jimin sighs, defeated.

“You’re what?”

Jungkook stumbles back, frozen in place, eyes so wide he looks like a baby dear. Jimin wants to reach out and touch him.

“I’m really sorry, Jungkook.” Jimin’s full-on crying now, lowering his head so he won’t have to face the consequences of his actions. 

“No, not that. You’re in love with me?”

Then it hits him. He looks up so fast it makes him a bit dizzy. 

“Oh,” is all he says, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

It’s obvious by the way Jungkook is staring into his soul that he’s not having any of it. “Jimin, it’s a simple yes or no question. Are you in love with me?”

“I… Jungkook, listen, I…” Panic is an understatement for what Jimin is currently going through right now. 

“Jimin. Yes or no.”

He searches Jungkook’s face for any kind of reassurance and it’s exactly what he gets when Jungkook’s lips twist into a smile. It’s small, but a smile nonetheless, so Jimin lets out a deep breath and decides to just say it.

“Yes. I’m in love with you.”

He can hear his own heartbeat drumming against his chest and he’s half-convinced the entire library can hear it, too, because the silence is unbearable and Jungkook is just standing there, looking just as beautiful as he did the first time he saw him.

But then Jungkook’s smile grows wider, brighter, nose scrunching and making him look ten times cuter than he is. “Good. Cause I’m in love with you too.”

And Jimin is smiling too, tears forgotten. “You are?”


He pauses to take it all in. He just confessed to Jungkook and he loves him too. “Wow.”

Jungkook giggles, closing the space between them. “We’re really fucked up, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are.” Jimin just shrugs.

“So what now?”

It’s a simple question, just like before. 

“I don’t know,” Jimin answers honestly. 

“You seem to not know a lot of things, baby.” Jungkook smirks, brushing his thumb over Jimin’s jaw and up his cheek. It’s still a little bit wet, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Stop.” Jimin smacks him lightly and Jungkook fake complains, but Jimin still feels like he hasn’t done enough. “I… I’m really sorry, Jungkook.”

There’s a hint of hurt still in Jungkook’s eyes and it stings to see it. “I’m sorry, too. For, you know, everything. And for kissing someone else.”

“If it makes you feel better, I haven’t been with anyone. Well, besides that guy from the party.”

“Me neither. Besides that girl from the party, of course.”


“What can I say? I’m whipped.” Jungkook’s smile is back and it’s just as intoxicating as ever.

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“Yet you love me,” Jungkook says it so casually that Jimin’s face burns in embarrassment.

“I do.”

“I really wanna kiss you right now,” Jungkook whispers, like they aren't the only ones in Jimin’s world. Jimin licks his lips, anticipating. It's been too long. 

“What are you waiting for, then?”

They kiss slowly, almost like they're learning how to be with each other again, discovering what the other likes and what they don't. It's comfortable, though, and before long they remember.  Jungkook doesn't need to ask permission before Jimin is letting him in, kissing him deep, tasting Jungkook until he can't breathe, until he's melting in Jungkook’s embrace and Jungkook is swallowing down all the little sounds Jimin is making. 

His legs are a trembling mess when Jungkook breaks the kiss, pecking his lips once, twice, a few more times. Jimin just giggles, soaking it all in.

“That was nice.”

Jungkook hums in agreement. “It was. Can I do it again?”

He’s already leaning when Jimin stops him. “No, wait. We need to talk first. About us and what will happen from now on. I wanna make things right this time.”

“Whatever you want.” Jungkook nods.

Jimin’s skin is flushed, ears hot. “Will you go out with me?”

Jungkook raises his brows knowingly. “On a date?”

Jimin scoffs, trying to hide his face by nuzzling Jungkook’s chest. “Yeah, duh. On a date.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says, arms tying around Jimin’s waist.

“Okay,” Jimin agrees, closing his eyes, happiness filling him to the bones. 

“Maybe okay will be our always.”

Jimin laughs, really laughs. “Ew, shut up!”

Watching a baseball game on a school night isn’t actually Jimin’s first choice for a date, but that is what happens when you’re dating the team’s big star player. 

Two months ago, Jimin would’ve been hanging out with Hoseok on their disgusting couch and fighting over the last bowl of cereal, trying to decide on a Netflix movie only to end up talking the night away instead.

Now, he’s here, cheering as loud as he can from the bleachers as Jungkook hits for the cycle and the whole place buzzes with energy as the game ends and Jungkook’s team wins once again.

Jimin’s used to it by now, growing incredibly comfortable with being a sports fan. He’s even using Jungkook’s jersey number (because of Jungkook’s non-stop requests). He doesn’t mind it too much, though, liking the feeling of being part of something bigger than himself. Jimin still doesn’t understand much about the whole game spirit, but he tries and his presence at each game makes Jungkook happy, so that’s more than enough for him.

Jungkook’s waiting for him in the changing room, bangs glued to his forehead from the sweat that drips down his neck. Jimin bites his lower lip, locking eyes with his boyfriend and wishing he could just strip him down right then and there.

Jimin had come up with the idea of getting to know each other first before waiting for the right time to have sex and he hates himself for it. Why the hell would he get such a stupid idea in the first place?

“Sweet cheeks.” Jungkook smirks, crossing the room to meet Jimin halfway.

“Congrats,” Jimin says, pulling Jungkook for a lazy kiss. Two months of this and Jimin still gets light-headed. 

“Thanks,” Jungkook mumbles, stealing another kiss and cocking his head to the side, smiling that blinding smile. He loves making it harder for Jimin to keep it in his pants.“You know, I think I deserve a congratulations gift, don’t you think?”

“Mhmm,” Jimin pats his cheeks with his finger, looking like he’s in deep thought. “What kind of gift?”

“You,” Jungkook simply says, intent strong in his words. 

“I’m already yours, baby,” Jimin says, pouting innocently.


Jungkook grins and Jimin knows the game they’re about to play. But that’s alright, because he loves winning, anyway. And even though having Jungkook fucking him into oblivion for the rest of the night while still wearing Jungkook’s jersey and nothing else wasn’t part of tonight’s plans, falling in love with him wasn’t either.

Later, as Jungkook is kissing him silly and cuddling him to sleep, Jimin decides losing isn’t really an option anymore.