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the only one who makes me

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jimin rolls onto his back, tossing his notebook off the edge of his bed. it hits the floor with a satisfying thud, his physics notes crinkling against the carpet. it’s past 2 am and he’s tired, but the loud music thumping downstairs mixed with the undeniable smell of frat party—weed and cigarette smoke and the sharp sting of vodka—keeps him frustratingly awake.

not for the first time, jimin wishes he’d stayed with namjoon in their nice, normal dorm room, instead of following jungkook into this treacherous hellhole of a frat house. he only just got his GPA back up to where it needs to be, though you wouldn’t be able to tell by the study materials littering his floor like confetti.

it’s fine, probably. he’s been studying for hours. this is as good as it’s going to get. he’ll take his physics final on monday and then go home for a month with his tail between his legs. he’ll probably spend the entire train ride back thinking of ways to justify the fact that yeah, okay, he’d become fraternity president even after he’d explicitly promised his mom he’d take a step back to focus on his major but listen, okay, it’s fine

“it looks good on job applications,” jimin murmurs to himself, testing how the words feel in his mouth, “and it’s taught me a lot about responsibility and what it takes to be a leader—”

he cuts himself off, groans low in the back of his throat, and flops onto his stomach. he did it because he wanted to, and that should be enough. why isn’t it enough?

jimin grapples blindly through his sheets for his phone. he blinks as the screen lights up in the dimness of his room and sighs. a snap from namjoon, an email from the panhel council.

no new texts from taehyung.

they’ve been seeing each other—fucking, mostly—since last march, when they’d both been assigned to the same philanthropy table at the student center. jimin, as xi kap’s newly elected president, and taehyung, as sigma alpha pi’s service chair, had been unceremoniously thrust together in a poorly disguised attempt to settle the bitter, decades-long feud between their two fraternities.

jimin had been expecting a terse greeting and two hours of silence. what he’d gotten, however, was a bright, crooked smile and an earnest greeting from the most gorgeous boy he’d ever laid eyes on.

“hi,” taehyung had said, with pretty doe eyes and a nervous lilt to his voice, “it’s so nice to meet you. i’m taehyung.”

“hi,” jimin had replied, a little breathlessly. there was a moment where they just stared at each other, until taehyung’s expression turned a little expectant and jimin forced himself to act like a functioning human being with social skills. “jimin, i’m—i’m jimin. it’s nice to meet you, too.”

“jimin,” taehyung repeated, and the way he said jimin’s name sounded like bells and doves and the love songs his parents used to slow-dance to after dinner. “jimin,” he’d said again, brown eyes wide and sparkling and punching straight through jimin’s sad, gay soul. “can i buy you a coffee before we sit down? as like, y’know. an olive branch.”

jimin’s mouth had opened. closed. opened again. “you don’t—you don’t have to do that,” he’d finally managed, his voice several octaves higher than usual. at the time, jimin had been vaguely disgusted with himself, with how easily a pretty boy had managed to completely disarm him. park jimin was the charmer, not the charmed. he used to pride himself on being an impenetrable wall, the unstoppable force and the moving object, but—

kim taehyung swept the rug out from under his feet, and he’d smiled that cute, crooked smile while he did.

fucker.

“i want to,” taehyung had said, offering his hand. his voice was low and melodic, hypnotizing, and suddenly jimin understood the appeal of those weird asmr videos joon was so obsessed with.

he accepted, smiled, let taehyung pay for both of their coffees—and at the end of their two-hour shift, when taehyung asked for jimin’s number, his expression the most endearing shade of pink—

jimin had said yes.

it had taken them less than a week to start fucking—on the low, of course, because his fraternity would have a goddamn fit if they found out their president was regularly pounding a member of their rival frat’s exec board into the mattress above their heads.

they’re not dating. they’re doing that weird, fucked up college thing where they have sex and don’t commit, no matter how much they act like they’re together. but jimin guesses that’s also a bit of a generalization, because there is some level of commitment to their arrangement. it’s not as much as jimin wants, but it’s better than nothing—which sounds really sad now that he thinks about it.

taehyung had been the one to broach the topic, because taehyung has never been scared of conflict or confrontation or simply asking for what he wants. it’s one of the literal millions of things jimin adores about him, as nerve-wracking as it can be having those wide, imploring eyes trained on you.

“jimin-ah,” taehyung had asked, his cheek smushed against jimin’s bare chest. it was may, just a few days before they were both scheduled to go home for the summer, and jimin had been lowkey (highkey) terrified that this was the end of them. “babe?”

“mm,” jimin had hummed, sated and half-asleep after the truly fantastic dicking that had been bestowed upon him.

taehyung pressed a kiss to jimin’s shoulder and said, with absolutely no preamble, “i think we should be exclusive.”

that had woken jimin up.

before he could even try to formulate a response, taehyung had barreled on, his voice a forced sort of casual. “i just—you know, safe sex and whatever. plus, we fuck all the time, so why bother to like, go out and find a stranger? that’s sort of dangerous, right? but also if you don’t want to you can just tell me to fuck off and i mean, it’s fine—”

“taehyung,” jimin interrupted, running a soothing hand down taehyung’s back despite the storm raging through his own mind. “i—yeah. i think that’s—yeah. we should be exclusive.”

taehyung had pressed his smile into jimin’s skin, and jimin’s heart had sang. they’d gone for another round of mind-blowing sex, and literally never talked about that conversation again.

what does exclusive even mean, anyway? not fucking other people, sure, but that doesn’t explain the cuddling or the soft touches or the smiles that linger. it doesn’t explain their study dates and weekday lunches or the way taehyung always knows when jimin’s got himself holed up in the library and desperately needs a snack or a coffee or both.

exclusive doesn’t mean boyfriend.

and yet—

jimin shoves his face into his pillow and groans. he feels a little restless, his brain all-but melted after hours of pouring over textbooks, and while he’s far too tired to go downstairs and join the party, the noise is keeping him awake and miserable. there’s an itch under his skin that he can’t quite scratch, no matter how much he tosses and turns and flops around like a dead fish. it’s impossible to get comfortable, to settle down, and jimin thinks, fuck it. maybe an orgasm will help.

it certainly can’t hurt.

he stretches to reach his side table, half-hanging off the bed in a weak-willed attempt to reach the bottom drawer. he huffs, whines a little, and rummages around for his lube when he finally manages to yank the drawer open. a tiny ha falls from his lips as he finds it wedged in the corner behind a shiny black dildo, because, y’know. small victories.

jimin considers the dildo for a second, brow pinched, before deciding that a toy sounds like far too much clean up afterwards. he’s tired. maybe if taehyung were here—

but taehyung’s not here, and jimin wishes his stupid pining brain would shut the fuck up because it’s not. helping.

jimin drops the lube at his side and lays back down, doing his best to banish any and all thoughts of taehyung, because taehyung is an asshole who hasn’t texted him once today, or yesterday. and like, okay—they’re not dating, so taehyung doesn’t have to text him every day, or even at all for that matter. but jimin’s gotten used to at least three memes per day, accompanied by taehyung’s signature bottom emoji, and the sudden radio silence is. concerning.

the itch under his skin grows stronger, uncomfortable and hot like a sunburn. jimin’s been really busy lately, drowning in finals and coursework, essays that never seem to end—what if taehyung decided to find someone else?

what if he’s being ghosted?

jimin shoves the thought out of his mind and a hand down his pants. everything is fine, and even if it’s not, it doesn’t matter. this was going to end anyway, right? fuck buddies don’t just magically fall in love. if he’s being ghosted, it was really only a matter of time. and okay, maybe he thought taehyung was a little better than that, that he’d at least get a goodbye fuck or like, a hug, but—

whatever. it’s fine.

jimin forces himself to breathe, to take his time and stroke himself to full hardness. it takes a little while to clear his mind and relax, until finally there’s a slow, honey-tinged warmth that spreads unhurried down his thighs, up his tummy. he sighs, sinks a little further into his pillow, blindly feeling around for the lube with his free hand. the pop of the cap sounds muted against his sheets, and jimin drizzles the peachy lube over his fingers while his other hand keeps its steady, rhythmic pace.

he twists a little, reaching down until he can tease himself with a sticky finger. a small sigh falls from his lips, eyes slipping shut as he massages the tight ring of muscle. he makes quick work of fingering himself open because for all jimin enjoys a slow build, his only goal at the moment is to achieve that boneless, mindless feeling that follows nutting so hard you can barely think, in the hopes of promptly passing out the second he’s finished.

jimin crooks his fingers just right, gasping at the sensation. without even meaning to, he pictures taehyung above him, feels the ghost of large hands trailing down his sides, pressing against the dip of his waist.

and that’s really the root of the problem, isn’t it? this weird, buzzy feeling dragging through his mind like sandpaper—it’s because jimin just really misses tae. he’s tense and tired and he wants his favorite boy to hug him close and kiss his forehead til he stops feeling so overwhelmed. he wants taehyung to magically appear like a handsome prince stepping out of a fairy tale with his beautiful smile and a sixth-sense for when jimin needs him.

he holds on tight to the image of taehyung’s pretty, round, bunched-up cheeks, the sweet, plush pout of his lips, the way his eyes always seem to sparkle under the cheap fairy lights above jimin’s headboard. there’s a sudden roaring in his ears, a forest fire in his gut and—

a knock on the windowpane.

jimin jolts, fingers flying out of his ass and scrambling for his blanket. he lives on the third floor. there should be no fucking way someone is outside his window right now, let alone at 2:30 am in the middle of december.

and yet, another knock.

“what the hell,” jimin whispers, half-terrified, half-annoyed that his orgasm was ruined by this weirdo intruder. are they being robbed? should he go get someone?

he squints, surreptitiously wiping his fingers on his powder-blue bedsheets. he wiggles under the covers, trying his best to yank his underwear and pants up so that he doesn’t have to fight a burglar with his dick out—

and then, suddenly, there’s a muffled whine of, “jimin-ah,” and a face smushed against the glass.

jimin rolls out of bed faster than he’s ever done anything in his entire life because holy shit, taehyung is on his roof. he trips over his joggers, bending in half to yank them up and nearly braining himself on the corner of his desk in his haste to get taehyung inside. “hold on, just—” jimin fumbles with the lock on his window, shoving the pane up with much more force than necessary. “what are you doing?

“coming to see you,” taehyung says brightly, his breath coming out in crystalized puffs. he’s shivering, bits of snow dusting the top of his soft, chesnut-brown hair, and he’s smiling at jimin like the sun’s just come up for the first time in years. without meaning to, jimin finds himself smiling back. “hi, baby.”

“hi,” jimin says, trying to force his voice into something flat, something unimpressed, which is nearly impossible because taehyung is so cute. he settles one hand on taehyung’s waist and uses the other to cover his head as he ducks through the window, stumbling a little. “you climbed the side of my fraternity house—and you’re not even wearing a fucking coat!”

“sorry.” taehyung’s smile turns sheepish. he shakes his hair out like a puppy, looking adorably soft in an old, frayed homecoming sweatshirt. “we just...haven’t seen each other in a few days and, i dunno. i know you were really stressed out about your physics final and i thought it might be nice to surprise you.”

jimin feels his heart skip a beat. it’s ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, how the hottest dude on campus also has the biggest heart, the gentlest soul. a totally unfair advantage over the rest of the human population. “you—you wanted to surprise me?”

taehyung shifts from one foot to the other, eyes wide and trained on jimin. a stray curl falls artfully over his forehead, still a little damp from the flurries jimin hadn’t even known were falling outside. “yeah,” he says, shrugging a little. he seems nervous, almost, like he’s not sure if this was a good idea after all, and that springs jimin into immediate action.

he takes a step closer and gently brushes the curl from taehyung’s face. “you scared the shit out of me,” he laughs, pressing his forehead against taehyung’s shoulder.

strong arms lock around his middle, comforting and warm. jimin sags into them, lets himself be enveloped by the sweetness of taehyung’s scent. he feels taehyung laugh, a low, gentle sound from deep in his chest. “m’sorry. i just didn’t think your brothers would let me walk through the front door without either punching me in the face or asking about a million questions.”

“you could have asked me to meet you somewhere.”

taehyung shakes his head, nuzzles his nose against jimin’s temple. “it’s not a surprise if i tell you.”

jimin huffs, fingers twisting in the softness of taehyung’s sweatshirt as he presses forward, pushes his thigh in between taehyung’s leg. he’s still insanely horny and now taehyung is here and so cuddly, so warm and pretty, all for jimin to touch and kiss and tease. “i can’t believe you scaled the side of my fraternity house. it’s fucking december, tae.”

there’s a soft intake of breath as taehyung grinds forward, his hands dropping from jimin’s waist to his ass. he kisses up jimin’s neck and jawline, noses at his temple, murmurs, “i told you, i wanted to see you. missed you, jimin-ah.”

jimin swallows, lets his eyes fall shut. “missed you too,” he whispers, pulling the words from the deepest recesses of his heart. they’re just this side of too honest, too raw, but taehyung glows under them, lighting up from the inside out.

taehyung smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, and dips down to kiss the nerves right out of him. “baby,” he sighs, their noses knocking, and jimin’s breath catches. “baby—”

“you know what i was doing before you showed up?” jimin asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

taehyung shakes his head. “the glass was frosted and i couldn’t see inside, so i was just sort of hoping you were in there.”

it takes everything in jimin not to snort right in taehyung’s face. he half-succeeds, snorting into taehyung’s shoulder instead. “you’re so dumb,” he murmurs fondly, not meaning a single word. taehyung is the smartest person he knows, but common sense is not always his forte when he wants something right away. taehyung giggles and it’s so cute jimin might actually explode, which is really blowing a gigantic hole in his attempted dirty talk. “shush. i’m trying to seduce you.”

“you don’t ever have to try,” taehyung says immediately, “do whatever you want to me. i’m so serious.”

“shut up!” jimin swats at him, cheeks flushing. lovely, brutally honest taehyung always manages to find a way to throw jimin off his game. he schools his expression back into something sultry before continuing. “i was fingering myself and thinking about you, wishing that you were the one touching me.” taehyung shudders, a full-body tremble that leaves him pressing impossibly closer. jimin smiles, pleased with his reaction. “didn’t get to finish because someone knocked on my window—”

taehyung lets out the prettiest laugh and kisses the corner of jimin’s mouth. “let me make it up to you?”

“mm,” jimin hums, thigh pressing insistently against the growing bulge in taehyung’s pants. “show me how much you missed me.”

impossibly, taehyung’s smile widens into something honeyed, a little crooked, his breath catching at the movement. “i can do that,” he says, still so earnest, so sweet, even as he grinds his clothed dick against jimin’s leg and slides both hands under jimin’s sweatpants to properly grope at his ass.

and suddenly jimin can’t help it—he reaches up and drags taehyung down for a kiss. taehyung lets out the cutest noise before responding very enthusiastically, his grip on jimin’s ass tightening. jimin gasps into his mouth, hips bucking forward, hands scrambling for purchase against taehyung’s broad shoulders.

there’s a brush of cold air against the curve of jimin’s ass as taehyung tugs at his sweatpants, almost questioningly—as if anybody in their right mind would ever say no. still, it’s sweet. taehyung never assumes, never pushes. he’s just about the kindest boy alive, a heart of gold hidden beneath forty-dollar fraternity letters. “okay?” taehyung asks, when jimin doesn’t break the kiss to respond.

“yes,” jimin breathes, because he knows taehyung won’t keep going without a clear confirmation. he doesn’t wait before diving back in, sucking taehyung’s tongue into his mouth with a wet pop. tae moans—always so vocal, so pretty—and yanks jimin’s pants down til the waistband is resting against the backs of his thighs. another squeeze, one that has jimin melting against taehyung’s chest, and then there’s a long, perfect finger pressing against jimin’s hole; not pushing in, just circling and teasing until jimin lets out a frustrated huff and bites at taehyung’s lip a little harder than necessary. “tae—”

taehyung pushes the tip of his finger in and jimin chokes on the rest of his sentence. the slide is slick and easy from jimin’s failed attempt at getting off—though this is clearly a much better alternative and he’s sure as hell not going to complain. taehyung fucks his finger in and out a few times before adding another, so careful despite the fact that jimin is already mostly prepped and practically dripping from the amount of lube he’d used. a lingering kiss is pressed to jimin’s temple and that, more than anything—even the fingers up in his ass—makes him go a little weak in the knees.

taehyung crooks his fingers just right and jimin lets out something close to a whimper, which is sort of embarrassing but he can barely bring himself to care. he buries his face in taehyung’s shoulder, his hips canting forward as taehyung drops another kiss to the crown of his head. “love the way you sound,” taehyung murmurs, voice raspy. “do you feel good?”

jimin bites at his collarbone through his shirt, one hand snaking down between them to cup at taehyung’s cock through his joggers. the fabric is already tenting, and jimin gives it a pointed squeeze that leaves taehyung gasping prettily. jimin traces a finger up the curve of taehyung’s dick, says, “yes. bed.”

taehyung’s fingers slide out of jimin’s ass, which is unfortunate, but it’s fine. he has a purpose, and that purpose is to get everything ready asap so that taehyung’s dick can be in his ass like yesterday. jimin yanks the bottom drawer of his side table open, pulls out a pack of condoms, and tosses them next to his lube. he’s about to settle down, maybe pose a little, seduce the absolute shit out of taehyung—

except taehyung decides to tackle him to the bed, smothering him in kisses like he can’t possibly help himself. it’s the most ridiculous display of affection straight out of the cheesiest romance novel, but there’s an entire galaxy of stars trying to burst their way out of jimin’s chest because it’s taehyung. taehyung, the silliest, sappiest boy jimin’s ever met, who makes jimin feel a little like he’s flying every time their eyes meet.

taehyung, who jimin is like 97% sure wants to be his boyfriend.

(but that’s a conversation for a different time. jimin’s trying to get fucked. priorities.)

“stop,” jimin laughs, and it’s a little high pitched, a little breathless. he doesn’t actually want taehyung to stop, but he’s too flustered to function right now and he needs to get himself together. “your dick is out and you’re leaking precum all over my shirt.”

“take it off, then,” taehyung shoots back, nipping at jimin’s ear, and okay. he might have a point.

jimin shimmies out of his t-shirt while taehyung helpfully pulls his pants and underwear off, because teamwork is sexy. the second jimin’s joggers hit the ground, taehyung’s yanking his own shirt up over his head and wiggling out of his sweats. he’s absolutely gorgeous, looking every bit the perfect boyfriend jimin knows he would be—equal parts strong and soft, all broad shoulders and muscled thighs and the cutest tummy possible. his eyes are gentle when they land on jimin, head dipping down in a silent request for a kiss. jimin meets him halfway, stars bursting behind his eyelids when their lips finally meet.

it takes a little bit of maneuvering, because jimin can’t keep his hands off of taehyung for even a second, but they finally manage to get into a position they’re satisfied with. jimin faces away from taehyung and straddles his thighs, shivering when he hears the tell-tale click of the lube cap. he bends down a little and wiggles his ass until taehyung lets out a laugh, something deep and a little raspy. it’s jimin’s favorite sound, even better when he’s the reason behind it.

they don’t waste any time—taehyung starts with two fingers, opening jimin up as carefully and expertly as a passionate musician would play their instrument. “gimme another,” jimin says, just this side of demanding, nearly choking on his own spit when taehyung brushes against his prostate, “i did all the work for you earlier. m’not gonna break.”

“i know,” taehyung says, dropping a careful kiss to jimin’s ass cheek, “i just don’t want to hurt you.”

jimin groans, a furious, punched-out sound from deep in his chest. “what the fuck are you so cute for?” he asks, “what do you gain from it?”

taehyung just laughs again—that pretty, rumbling chuckle that turns jimin’s brain to mush and his heart to goo—and adds a third finger. diligently, he adds a little more lube and focuses all of his intense attention on prepping jimin because taehyung is not one to half-ass anything, especially when it comes to jimin’s comfort.

the word boyfriend flashes through jimin’s mind again, this time blinking neon. he shakes his head, tries to focus on the fingers in his ass, but it’s no use—he’s got it bad. he wants to be taehyung’s boyfriend so. bad.

“m’ready,” jimin says, gasping a little as he cants his hips down, meets taehyung mid-thrust. “tae, i’m ready.”

“yeah, okay,” taehyung breathes, his free hand tracing a comforting line down jimin’s back. “okay, babe. i got you.”

to jimin’s dismay, both of taehyung’s hands disappear. he sighs, wiggles a little impatiently, dips down in order to press a kiss to taehyung’s shin. there’s a crinkle of foil, and then a quick squeeze of his hip. “okay,” taehyung says again, “okay, i’m—d’you wanna—”

without any warning, jimin reaches behind him to grab at taehyung’s cock and hold him steady. the lube feels sticky beneath his hand, tacky on the condom, but jimin relishes in the warm weight of taehyung against his palm. he’s missed this, missed being so close to his favorite person—it’s only been a few days but it’s felt like forever since jimin was able to fall headfirst into the dizzy, happy, punch-drunk haze that being near taehyung brings.

“ready?” jimin asks, just to make sure.

there’s a pause, and it goes on long enough that jimin starts to worry, but then—

“fuck, sorry, you can’t see me nod. you’re turned around. fuck. yes. yes, jimin-ah, babe, please—”

jimin huffs out an incredulous laugh; taehyung is so insanely, unfairly adorable it hurts. he lines taehyung’s cock up until he feels the blunt head nudging at his hole, anticipation bubbling in his stomach like seltzer. he bites down on a moan, eyes rolling back as taehyung slowly bottoms out.

there’s a low, punched-out grunt from behind, and jimin dips his head back to see taehyung watching him, breathing heavily and looking like there’s nothing in the world he wants more than to fuck jimin into oblivion. he doesn’t move, though, gives jimin time to adjust, squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lip. cute. as a small reward, jimin grinds down, testing how he feels and sighing at the stretch. it’s been a while since he last bottomed, which is a shame, because he really can’t get enough of the way taehyung fills him up. he braces his hands against taehyung’s knees and arches his back, smiling wickedly at the little whimper taehyung lets out at the sight.

“god,” taehyung whispers, his voice reverent, “god, babe, you just—you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

his hand settle against the dip of jimin’s hip, the tips of his fingers burning into the sweat-warm skin of jimin’s sides. jimin hums, beyond pleased by the praise but trying desperately to keep his cool. “like what you see?” he asks, though of course he already knows the answer. still, he wants to hear it again and again and again, the words dripping from taehyung’s pretty mouth like the sweetest honey.

“yes,” taehyung breathes, without a moment’s hesitation. “jimin-ah, baby, yes. look so pretty, feel so good, how the fuck did i get so lucky—”

by now, jimin is used to taehyung’s particular brand of blunt honesty—he never says anything he doesn’t wholeheartedly mean, and he possesses absolutely no filter when it comes to what he does mean. if taehyung thinks it, he’ll say it, and it’s left jimin stuttering and blushing more times than he would care to admit.

like literally right now.

“shut up,” he mumbles, which is of course very sexy and desirable. exactly what you should say when the probable love of your life has his dick in your ass. he tries to move, to grind his hips or bounce in a way that will divert taehyung’s attention towards more pressing matters than jimin’s sudden inability to be a person, except—

taehyung surges forward, nearly knocking jimin over. he catches him easily, wraps his toned, tanned arms around jimin’s middle. plasters himself to jimin’s back and clings, face pressed against the juncture of jimin’s neck and shoulder. jimin huffs out a surprised laugh, momentarily thrown off guard, but it’s instinct to hug taehyung back, to squeeze at his forearms and fall against his chest.

“taehyung-ah, what—”

“you told me to show you how much i missed you,” taehyung murmurs, his breath warm as it fans against jimin’s skin. he presses his smile under jimin’s jawline, adds, “and i missed you so much.”

“you big baby,” jimin says, impossibly fond. he lets his head loll against taehyung’s shoulder, shivers through the open-mouthed kiss that’s pressed to his neck. “i’m trying to ride you til you cry and all you wanna do is cuddle.”

“you can still do that,” taehyung says, quick enough that jimin laughs. “i just want to...i dunno. wanted to be close for a second.”

jimin grinds down pointedly, revels in the sharp intake of breath from behind him. “can’t get much closer than this.”

taehyung unwinds one arm from around jimin’s waist and uses it to prop himself up as he accommodates jimin’s weight, thrusting his hips up in a slow, measured rhythm. jimin’s eyes roll back, fingertips digging into taehyung’s arm hard enough to bruise. “good?” taehyung asks—always checking, always making sure.

“fucking fantastic,” jimin breathes, canting his hips down to meet taehyung mid-thrust. “shit. fuck. you feel so good.”

“also, i meant, like. emotionally.”

“what?” jimin asks, distracted by the frankly phenomenal slide of taehyung’s cock.

a kiss is pressed to the sensitive skin just under his ear and jimin shivers. “when i said i wanted to be closer. i meant emotionally. just wanted to, like, hug you and shit.”

redness rushes back to jimin’s face, once again overwhelmed and flustered beyond what should be physically possible. “you can hug me whenever you want,” he says, and he means it, too. “stop talking and let me ride you. you’re distracting me.”

taehyung lets out a little laugh, something close to a giggle, and flops onto his back. he settles his hands on jimin’s waist, thumb rubbing smooth lines into warm skin. it’s soft and it’s intimate and it leaves jimin’s guts feeling like goo, even before taehyung inevitably rearranges them.

jimin takes a breath, lets it steady him. he starts to grind, slowly at first—building momentum. taehyung’s dick is long and thick enough that he feels almost split-open, cracked in half and full in the most delicious way. he adjusts, switches the angle, and gasps at the feeling of taehyung’s cock brushing against his prostate.

he arches his back again, bends forward a little because jimin is nothing if not shameless. he’s hot and he knows that taehyung knows, because he tells jimin at literally every opportunity. still, he wants to show off, wants to wreck taehyung the way taehyung wrecks him with every crooked grin, every hooded gaze. jimin’s not sure how this happened, how he got this masterpiece of a boy in his bed again and again and again but holy shit, he’s going to make sure he stays.

he feels taehyung spread his ass cheeks, feels his laser-focused gaze on where his cock disappears inside jimin. it fuels him, makes him work himself back onto taehyung harder, faster, hips moving as sensually as he can manage while he’s panting and dizzy with want. taehyung runs his hands up jimin’s sides, over his chest, down his stomach. he wraps his fingers around jimin’s length and strokes him, gasping when jimin clenches hard around him.

“fuck,” taehyung curses, sounding wrecked, “god, holy shit. you’re not real.”

“straight out of a wet dream?” jimin teases, a little out of breath himself.

“straight out of every good dream i’ve literally ever had.”

jimin chokes on his own spit, hips faltering. “you can’t just—you can’t just keep saying shit like that— ”

taehyung laughs and it lights a different kind of fire in jimin’s chest—a bonfire, something warm and comfortable, sparking up the night sky with orange-yellow-red. god, he’s so whipped.

“can you turn around, please?” taehyung asks, the hand that’s not currently jerking jimin off massaging at the thickest part of jimin’s hip. “i wanna kiss you.”

“yeah,” jimin breathes, bucking into taehyung’s hand as a thumb traces the sensitive patch of skin under the head of his cock. “yeah, yes but—but fuck you have to stop jerking me off or i’m not going to move. i’m just going to sit here and grind until i nut all over your hand.”

“feels good?” taehyung asks, amused, and of course he doesn’t stop.

“yes,” jimin moans like it’s been punched out of him. “feel so full, sitting on your cock a-and—your fucking hands—they’re so big, baby.”

“shit,” taehyung says, his good-natured teasing dissipating into something needier, heavier. “i really want to kiss you.”

gingerly, jimin pries taehyung’s hand off his dick and brings it up to lips. he kisses the tips of taehyung’s pointer and middle finger before sucking them both into his mouth, clenching hard around taehyung just to hear him let out the most adorable little whine. satisfied, he pushes up onto his knees, taehyung’s cock sliding out of him with a wet smack against his tummy.

he barely manages to turn all the way around before taehyung is pulling him down, capturing jimin’s lips in a messy, desperate kiss. jimin braces himself with an arm on either side of taehyung’s head, caging him in. he looks beautiful, spit-slick lips open in the softest of pouts when jimin pulls away, eyes a little dazed and fucked out.

“gorgeous,” jimin breathes, before he can even think to stop himself.

taehyung smiles so hard his eyes crinkle. he angles his head up for another kiss which jimin immediately delivers, this one much softer than the last. almost immediately, the kiss deepens into something slow, something warm and careful and sweet. taehyung does this sometimes, forces them into a more deliberate pace, so different from the frenzied touching, the sharp thrusts, the sloppy kisses. it always leaves jimin feeling a little boneless, fuzzy around the edges. worshipped and wanted in all of the best ways.

jimin grinds down once, a natural reaction to the sensory overload taehyung is subjecting him to. one large hand flattens against jimin’s back, smooths down his spine, lands against the curve of his ass. jimin tries to sit up, suddenly and embarrassingly desperate to have taehyung inside of him again, but the boy below him huffs, whines, shakes his head. “stay,” taehyung murmurs against the shell of jimin’s ear, sending a full-body shiver through him like an electric current. “let me take care of you? please?”

jimin’s mouth goes dry, his heart thumping hard enough that he’s positive taehyung can feel it where their chests are pressed together. “yeah,” he manages, offering a flustered smile because he can’t help it—taehyung makes him feel so many things at once. he’s overwhelmed and a little off-balance but so fucking happy to be in taehyung’s arms. “go ahead, babe. show me what you got.”

taehyung laughs, smiles wide and like, jimin never thought he’d describe teeth as pretty but here he is, marvelling at how breathtaking kim taehyung manages to be in literally every aspect, right down to the cutest fucking teeth jimin has ever seen. he can’t help it—can’t help anything when he’s around tae, least of all himself—he dips down to kiss taehyung, and even though he’s half-kissing taehyung’s teeth because he’s still smiling so wide, it’s goddamn magical.

just like that, jimin knows—it’s not a “probably” type of situation anymore, and it most likely never was. he’s in love with taehyung, with this silly boy who scales the side of frat houses in the dead of winter just to see him, who knows exactly how jimin takes his coffee despite hating the drink himself. who holds jimin like he’s something to be delicate and perfect, who tries valiantly to kiss him back even though he can’t stop smiling long enough to do it right—

who took a chance on jimin, when every bit of social pressure was tugging him the other way, threatening to cave in on him.

taehyung, who decided jimin was worth the fight.

he’s full-on in love with his exclusive fuck buddy half-boyfriend. it’s not exactly a startling realization, because he’s known for a while—jimin’s just really good at ignoring the things he doesn’t want to acknowledge for whatever reason seems valid at the time. it’s not even all that scary, because he knows taehyung is stupid attracted to him and feels at least some level of emotional attachment above ‘bros that get off together.’

still—

still.

but jimin isn’t afforded any time to stew or work himself into a panic, because taehyung decides that this is the perfect moment to break the kiss and flip jimin over onto his back like a caveman barbarian, which is, admittedly, pretty fucking hot. taehyung doesn’t often show off his strength, but he works out just as much as jimin does and his gym thirst traps are deadly. like, ‘pop a boner in the middle of your world lit lecture like you’re going through puberty again’ deadly.

“fucker,” jimin breathes out, heart clenching at the mischievous glint in taehyung’s pretty brown eyes.

“if i’m the fucker, does that make you the fucked?” taehyung asks, tilting his head to the side, faking curiosity.

jimin sniffs. “not currently, no, considering you’d rather make shitty jokes than fuck me like i deserve.”

taehyung laughs, dips down to press a firm kiss to the corner of jimin’s mouth. “you love my shitty jokes.”

“i love your dick,” jimin says, “i tolerate your shitty jokes.”

“i—” taehyung cuts himself off abruptly, face going a funny shade of red. he ducks his head and sits up, no longer caging jimin in with his body. there’s a moment where he just sort...stares at jimin, not saying anything, not really moving. taehyung’s eyes are always so expressive and thoughtful just like the beautiful mind behind them. it’s a little intimidating, but it’s also empowering, knowing that he is something that captivates taehyung. this boy, with his expansive intelligence and endless creativity, is interested in jimin.

teasingly, jimin lets his legs fall open a little wider. “well?”

“shit,” taehyung breathes, and finally slides back inside of jimin, bottoming out in one swift motion. “okay?”

“yes,” jimin gasps, hands grappling against taehyung’s shoulders. “move.

taehyung smiles, murmurs, “bossy,” and thrusts into jimin—not hard, necessarily, but firm. measured. jimin tends to fuck fast and forcefully with sharp thrusts that leave tae drooling into the mattress, but taehyung—taehyung fucks like it’s an artform, careful and deliberate like he is with just about everything he does; at least, everything that matters.

jimin wraps his arms around taehyung’s waist and tugs him closer, fingers trailing down until they can grab at taehyung’s perfect ass. he grips tightly, squeezing and kneading, forcing taehyung deeper and harder as he quickens his pace. “your ass,” jimin tells him, a little more breathlessly than he’d like to admit, “is perfect. you have the perfect—ah—ass. jesus christ, babe.”

taehyung huffs out a breath that might also be a laugh, his forehead knocking against jimin’s shoulder. jimin presses a kiss to the top of taehyung’s head, keeps his face buried in soft curls as they both hurtle towards their release. taehyung’s hips stutter, a signal that jimin has long since learned and memorized, and his breath is coming out harsh, warm and wet against jimin’s neck.

jimin wraps his legs around taehyung’s waist and when the angle shifts, jimin sees stars. “oh my god,” he moans, loud and unabashed. “right there, baby, taehyung-ah, harder—

immediately, taehyung thrusts so hard jimin’s head nearly smacks into the headboard. he doesn’t even care—it feels so good to lose himself like this, after so many hours of stress and worry and a stupid ruined orgasm. still, jimin allows himself to be maneuvered a little farther down the bed, clutching at taehyung’s back like he’ll disappear if jimin isn’t holding on tight enough. a gentle kiss is pressed to his forehead, followed by another forceful thrust—and then another, another, another

“m’gonna—” jimin gasps, his insides buzzing, a white-hot heat growing in the pit of his stomach, “taehyungie—”

“m’here,” taehyung breathes, ragged and wild, eyes clouded with—something. it looks a little like adoration, a little like love, but god, jimin doesn’t want to get his hopes up. taehyung presses their foreheads together, threads gentle fingers through jimin’s sweat-soaked hair. they’re just sort of breathing into each other’s mouths, and it shouldn’t feel romantic but it does. god, it does. “jiminie. my jiminie.”

my jiminie.

“yours,” jimin chokes out, and then he’s coming, crying out and digging his fingers into taehyung’s back. taehyung fucks him through, peppering open-mouthed kisses down jimin’s jaw, sucking and nipping until he gives a final, low moan and spills into the condom.

in the span of a single breath, taehyung all-but collapses on top of jimin, turning into his usual post-sex baby octopus self. he slips out, falling onto his side and dragging jimin with him, one arm wrapped tight around jimin’s waist and the other snug over jimin’s back. jimin burrows close against taehyung’s chest, nose rubbing lightly along the curve of his neck, the arm that’s not squished beneath taehyung’s side wrapped around and up taehyung’s back.

“you’re amazing,” taehyung murmurs, lips smushed against jimin’s cheek in what might be a kiss. “the best ever. my jiminie.”

and there it is again—mine. as in, possessive. as in, nobody else’s.

“i want to be,” jimin says, and he’s not even really sure where this sudden burst of courage is coming from. it’s stupid, honestly—taehyung’s stuck here until the party’s over, unless he wants to climb back down the side of jimin’s house, and if he decides that no, sorry, he’s not interested, they’re in for a hell of an uncomfortable night. but whether it’s the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain thanks to the truly impressive amount of panting he just did or the post-nut euphoria killing off his brain cells, it’s happening. this is happening.

taehyung makes a cute, confused little noise, tries to pull away, but jimin clings tight and barrels on.

“i just, you know. we’ve been having sex for, like, seven months and that’s been—that’s been amazing, ten out of ten, hands down the best lay i’ve ever had but...maybe we could try, um? being more? like. dating. each other. unless you don’t want to, which is fine, we can just ignore that i even brought it up, it’s just, i like you so much and it’s been pretty much all i can think about lately, and—” he cuts himself, takes a deep breath. “i’m rambling. ha! sorry. i’m being weird. fuck. please say something.”

there’s a pause—and then taehyung pulls away, and jimin’s heart sinks.

“sorry,” he says, blurts, really, his bottom lip wobbling a little. embarrassingly, his eyes start to well up. he blinks them away before taehyung can see, but the thought of taehyung seeing him cry only makes him want to cry more because god, this is humiliating. taehyung’s going to have to shimmy down a drain pipe just to get away from him, all because jimin couldn’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. he’s sticky with cum and positively mortified, trying to disentangle himself from taehyung’s gangly limbs before he bursts into full-on tears. “sorry, sorry, i just—forget it, it was dumb.”

he’s expecting taehyung to help with the whole extracting process, eager to remove himself from the awkwardness dragging them down like a stone, but taehyung just holds on tighter. his pretty doe eyes appear in jimin’s blurred line of vision, concerned and a little bit confused but so kind. his big hands cup jimin’s cheeks, thumbs swiping under his eyes to catch the tears as they inevitably fall.

“baby, no, please don’t cry,” taehyung says, sounding low, mournful. impossibly gentle. he tugs jimin back against his chest, throwing a leg over his hip to pin him in place. jimin allows himself to be moved, cheek smushed against taehyung’s bare shoulder. he is not above a pity cuddle. “please don’t cry. i’m not upset or, or angry at you. i’m just confused because—jimin, i thought we already were together.”

jimin freezes. “what?”

taehyung swallows, looking nervous and a little embarrassed himself. “like? dating?”

“i know what you mean,” jimin says, almost too quickly. “why did you—”

“i mean,” taehyung laughs uncomfortably. “i asked you out in like, may.”

jimin sits up, taehyung’s arm falling listlessly over his waist like a human seatbelt. “you didn’t ask me out! you asked me to be exclusive!”

taehyung’s eyes go wide. “is that—not the same thing?”

“no!” jimin yells, his voice pitching up, the tone dangerously close to a shriek or something equally undignifying. “no, it’s not the same thing! you just asked me not to fuck anybody else, not be your boyfriend! i would have—oh my god, i’ve been a terrible boyfriend,” he whispers, positively horrified. he would have treated taehyung like a goddamn prince if he’d just realized, instead of keeping him at a distance in the hopes of not coming on too strong and scaring him off.

beside him, taehyung shrinks a little into the sheets. he looks so small, so self-conscious it breaks jimin’s heart clean down the middle. “i just thought you were, like. trying to keep it on the low. because of our fraternities.”

jimin finds himself shaking his head before taehyung even finishes speaking. without taking the time to think—which just seems to be par for the course for him tonight—he pulls taehyung up into a sitting position and scrambles into his lap. taehyung winds his arms around jimin’s waist like it’s automatic, intrinsic, and jimin thinks, i can fix this.

“if i’d known you were mine, everybody else would have, too,” jimin says, resting his shaking hands against the juncture of taehyung’s shoulders. he dips closer, like a complete lack of space between them will help to punctuate his point. “i would never have shut up about it, oh my god. you are the loveliest boy alive and i am the biggest dumbass ever. tae. taehyungie. baby. i’m so sorry if i made you feel like a secret. i will get up on the roof right now and fuckin’ scream at the whole campus. i’ll even do it naked, i don’t give a shit.”

a whole slew of emotions run across taehyung’s face in a matter of seconds, too quick to decipher. he settles on a smile—something beautiful, something that punches the breath right out of jimin’s lungs. “please don’t,” he says, and just like that, the nervousness is gone. it’s just them—comfortable and teasing, effortless in the way they flow together. “you easily have the prettiest dick ever and you would be doing the world a huge disservice if you lost it to hypothermia.”

jimin feels himself flush, bright pink bleeding from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. “don’t call my dick pretty, weirdo.”

taehyung tugs jimin closer until they’re chest to chest, jizz tacky against their bellies and sticking their skin together like glue. it should be gross. it is gross, at least a little bit, but jimin is mostly distracted by how much he wants to kiss taehyung, to hold him like this forever and never let him go. “everything about you is pretty, jimin-ah.”

“gross,” jimin breathes, “awful. can i kiss you?”

“i just had my dick in your ass and you’re asking if you can kiss me?”

jimin shifts a little, smiling when taehyung laughs at the sticky squelch their bodies make at the movement. god, they really need to clean up. “it’s just. i mean. i didn’t even know we were dating and i’ve been probably the worst boyfriend ever? so do i even like. deserve a kiss? not really. but i want one.”

taehyung’s face softens immediately, and he reaches a hand up to run his fingers through jimin’s hair, scratching lightly in the way he knows makes jimin melt. “baby,” he murmurs, and the pet name accompanied by the low, musical tone sends a pleasant shiver up jimin’s spine. “it’s my fault, too, for just assuming you knew what i meant. i definitely just asked you to not fuck anyone but me which is probably the least romantic way to ask someone out, ever. it’s not exactly a surprise you didn’t realize, now that i’m thinking about it.” his smile falls a little. “besides, i mean. i couldn’t have been that good of a boyfriend if you didn’t even know i was trying to be one—”

“no,” jimin says, cutting taehyung off with a hand over his mouth. taehyung lets out a confused little grunt and promptly licks jimin’s palm. “shut up. you’ve been so fucking wonderful and i was losing my mind over how bad i wanted you. best not-boyfriend ever. i am a big dumb idiot. my dumbassery knows no bounds.”

taehyung hums, murmurs something behind jimin’s hand that sounds like, “we did have dinner with my parents last month.”

jimin drops his arm, groans, hides his face in taehyung’s neck. “we’d just had sex when they showed up. i thought you were too nice to kick me out.”

“i took you to a twice concert for your birthday.”

“i just thought you didn’t have anyone else to go with!”

“we got a couple’s discount on ice cream at the student center like, last week.”

“i thought we were just scamming them,” jimin wails, face red-hot with sheer, unadulterated humiliation.

a pause. “that’s kind of hot.”

taehyung.

“sorry,” taehyung laughs, his lips pressed to jimin’s temple, his palm smoothing a soothing line down jimin’s back. “you have to admit it’s kind of funny. we’re ridiculous. this whole thing is ridiculous.

jimin grumbles and nips at taehyung’s shoulder, lips suctioning the tiniest bruise into the expanse of tanned skin. “stop making fun of me.”

“i can’t,” taehyung says simply, “i love you. it’s my job to make fun of you.”

they both freeze, taehyung’s hand stilling against jimin’s back, jimin stiffening in his arms.

“that’s not—i didn’t—i mean, no, i did mean it, but holy shit, too soon. don’t feel like you have to, like, say it back—”

jimin rears back, cups taehyung’s squishy cheeks in both of his tiny hands, and kisses him. it’s slow, careful—until they melt against each other like softening butter, yellow and bright and warm. jimin licks into taehyung’s mouth, his mind giddy and buzzing, butterflies erupting in his tummy. “shut up,” he murmurs, sucking taehyung’s bottom lip between his own. “i love you, too, and it’s not too soon. we’ve been dating for seven months, remember?” taehyung tightens his arms around jimin’s waist, diving back into the kiss like he’s starving for it. something between them twitches— “are you getting hard again? is this healthy communication turning you on?”

“love is my kink,” taehyung says, completely shameless in the way he grinds back up against jimin. “i love love. i love you. will my boyfriend let me make love to him?”

jimin’s heart soars. “your boyfriend will punch you if you ever use the phrase ‘make love’ again, but yes—your boyfriend will allow it. just this once.”

 

-

 

the next morning, taehyung does not climb down the side of the house like an orphaned street urchin during the french revolution. he uses the stairs like a normal, respectable human would do after fucking the absolute life out of their boyfriend all night.

on top of that, he doesn’t even leave—he sits at the kitchen table and lets jimin make him tea, looking adorably sleep ruffled and cozy in one of jimin’s oversized sweaters that fits him perfectly. the light shines in through the curtains and falls across taehyung’s puffy morning eyes, catching and sparkling in a way that feels almost magical. jimin’s heart is so full—of love, of warmth, of taehyung looking soft and at home in jimin’s kitchen.

jungkook is the first to make his way downstairs, clearly hungover and still most of the way asleep. he doesn’t even notice taehyung until he’s already got a carton of orange juice in hand, the fridge shutting behind him. he trips over a red solo cup and frowns before squinting at taehyung like he’s not sure if he’s imagining him or not.

“hey,” he rasps, scratching his arm.

“hey,” taehyung says back, sipping his tea.

jimin sits up a little straighter, chest puffing out. “jungkookie, this is my boyfriend.”

jungkook turns to him, unimpressed. “congrats. you’re officially the last person on earth to know.” he takes a swig of orange juice straight from the carton and disappears down the hall, leaving jimin to gape after him.