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“You have to be kidding me.”
Jeongguk feels exhilaration rush through him. “You could stand to look at least a little excited to see your hyung.”
Jimin scoffs and sets down his laundry basket with so much force Jeongguk has to stifle a laugh. He has his arms akimbo, hip cocked to the side, as he gazes at Jeongguk with incredulity and some attempt at intimidation, yet all Jeongguk can see is a kitten throwing a tantrum.
“I could stand to report you to the police for being a fucking stalker, actually. What the hell are you doing here?” Jimin’s scowling, but his tone doesn’t seem to translate into concrete action. Jungkook knows he isn’t as bothered as he’s trying to project – he’s carrying on with his chores, grabbing his basket and turning back to the row of washing machines. Naturally, Jeongguk follows, sidling up to him, back against the juddering machines.
Jimin’s also got his bottom lip stuck out in a pout that very much turns Jeongguk on. It reminds him of the face he’d make whenever he was asking for cock. No way that’s not on purpose.
Jeongguk’s pretty sure Jimin would still taste like lemon. He’d just bought a new lip balm, after all, at least if the online receipt Jeongguk received a week ago was any indication.
“Doing my laundry. Same as you.”
Rolling his eyes, Jimin swings open the door, sighing in exaggerated disappointment when Jeongguk dodges it with ease, and empties his basket into the washing machine. “Really? So where are your clothes?”
“Oh, I’m only washing one item.” Jeongguk holds up the lacy thong he’d stolen from Jimin’s basket just two minutes ago before he’d made his presence known to Jimin. The strap hangs on his finger like unattainable fruit on a branch.
Jimin’s gaze flicks over to him, and the mild annoyance in his eyes melts into a delicious mix of embarrassment and anger. He tries to snatch it back — and he’s quick, Jeongguk will give him that — but Jimin’s forgetting that he’s Jeongguk’s favourite thing to read.
Jimin misses his initial lunge, and Jeongguk just raises his hand higher, thong completely out of his reach.
“Not wearing your platforms today, baby?” Jeongguk grins down at Jimin. It’s a stupid question and he knows it; laundry day for Jimin is a strict nine in the morning every Saturday, and each time he wears the same thing – his old Converses from high school that are falling apart at the seams, his old hoodie (the one with a spoilt zipper), some stained tank top, and a pair of sweatpants, usually the ones that have a bright red CHICAGO on his ass.
“Fuck you,” Jimin says through gritted teeth as he gives up, turning back around and punching in his wash settings. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”
“So you’ve said.” Jeongguk tucks the panties into his pocket. Jimin talks big, but Jeongguk knows he loves feeling small and helpless and humiliated, especially at Jeongguk’s doing.
“This is exactly why we didn’t work out,” Jimin mumbles, half to himself as he stares sullenly at the washing machine, turning the dial to the notch that says QUICK-WASH before he turns and stares daggers at Jeongguk. “You never listen. Even right now – you’re not listening to me. We are over. We have been over. And I’m going straight to the police station to report a stalker after I finish this goddamn load.”
“Please. You love me too much to do that, sweetheart,” Jeongguk says, unable to keep the smirk off his face.
“Oh, so you’re not even going to deny that you are stalking me?” Jimin hisses, wrapping his sweater tighter around himself – a nervous tic which only serves to highlight his curves, which only gets Jeongguk even more riled up, because Jeongguk is like a fucking dog around Jimin.
“Just like how you’re not denying that you still love me.” Jeongguk rounds the counter. “C’mon. Come back to me, baby.”
“We’ve been over this a million times.” Jimin shoves his hand in his pocket, fishing around for his wallet, most likely, only to frown harder when he produces nothing. “Where the fuck –”
As Jimin continues to frantically search every pocket he has, Jeongguk takes out his wallet, slides two thousand-won notes into the machine, and presses start.
The washing machine beeps twice and starts whirring. Slowly, water trickles into the basin, and the clothes start turning.
Jimin stops. His head swivels towards Jeongguk. He scowls.
“Don’t pay for me.”
“Relax. It’s two thousand won.”
“Exactly, two thousand won, so I could’ve paid for that myself. And you’re not my boyfriend anymore, so you don’t get to spend money on me.”
Jeongguk laughs. “Sweetheart. You and I both know we were, and always will be, more than boyfriends. You and I were fucking destined to be together, and I’ll be damned if I let you slip away from me.”
Jimin scoffs, looking around in disbelief. Searching for support in a near-empty laundromat. “Destined? You sound insane.”
“Insane but you’re not telling me I’m wrong. You know I know you too well.”
“Well, okay, if you know me so well, why are you pissing me off so much?” Jimin retorts.
Jeongguk shrugs. “You already know you’re hot when you’re upset.”
A scathing ‘you’re actually a child,’ is all Jimin offers before he grabs his basket and storms away, leaving Jeongguk to trail behind him.
“C’mon, sweetheart. You clearly still want me. I still want you. I don’t see the problem.”
“Because you are the problem,” Jimin spits. He’s speeding up, pointedly avoiding even laying eyes on Jeongguk as he rushes to leave the laundromat. Shoving open the door, Jimin’s out and halfway down the street by the time Jeongguk steps foot outside.
The streets are as busy as ever. Businessmen, teenagers, parents with kids, senior citizens, all in varying levels of haste. It’s crowded, and Jimin’s all but running, but Jeongguk isn’t bothered. He could pick Jimin’s ass out of a lineup. Not to mention the neon red lettering on his pants that really does help identify him in a sea of people.
Jimin turns, sees him, pales. He whips back around and starts to jog. Jeongguk, in turn, starts to take wider strides, and he catches up to Jimin in no time.
“Should’ve known he wasn't going to stop at just classes,” Jimin’s mumbling under his breath, head down.
“I would’ve, if I hadn’t heard you were going out on a date this weekend,” Jeongguk says offhandedly.
Jimin says nothing, averting his eyes. He tries to walk faster, but it’s nothing Jeongguk has trouble keeping pace with.
“Apparently, he’s my age. My height, too.”
“You’re such a creep, oh my god. How the fuck do you know his height?”
Jeongguk laughs. “It’s flattering, babe. You miss me that much?”
“I don’t. And stop following me.”
Jeongguk can’t help pushing further, not when fear is so clear in his voice. “Miss my cock, I’ll bet.”
Jimin stops for a second, mouth open in scandalisation. He glances around, but no one cares enough to have heard it. Strangers stream past him, an unmoving doll on the crowded sidewalk. “I do not,” he shoots back.
“It’s adorable how you keep lying to me, but it’s getting old real quick, I won’t lie.” It only takes Jeongguk a few strides before he’s catching up to Jimin. “So starved for it you’re trying to find a replacement? I’m hurt you didn’t just call me up for a quick fuck.”
“You know damn well I couldn’t have done that, and I wouldn’t have wanted to anyway.” Jimin shakes his head and keeps walking. “But I’m glad to see you haven’t changed a bit, Jeongguk-ssi. Still as creepy and controlling as ever.”
“It’s Jeongguk-hyung to you.”
“Actually, you stopped being my hyung the second we broke up.”
Jeongguk rolls his eyes. He dodges some kid on a skateboard. “You know I’ll always be your hyung.”
“I don’t want you as my hyung.”
“Tough luck. You can’t get rid of me, Jimin. No matter how hard you try. I’m sorry to say I won’t let you.”
“Watch me,” Jimin shoots back, and Jeongguk’s about to reply before Jimin makes a turn he wasn’t expecting, throwing him off. The brat genuinely breaks into a full sprint, disappearing around a corner.
By the time Jeongguk catches up, all he sees of Jimin is his head ducking under an awning of a cafe that Jeongguk’s never been to before.
Backing himself into a corner? How sweet of Jimin. Jeongguk didn’t actually hunt him down today just to try something with him, but the second he sees him going for the single-use bathroom at the back of the cafe, he knows that there’s no way he’s going home today without ruining Jimin, in some way or another. Not when Jimin’s offering himself up to Jeongguk on a silver fucking platter like this.
He enters the cafe, ignoring the curious looks of the staff as he heads straight for Jimin, boots slamming against the ground as he makes it just in time — pushing through the door right behind him, like Jimin’s very own shadow.
Jimin gasps out as he whirls around.
“Luring me to somewhere we can have our privacy?” Jeongguk tilts his head. “How subtle of you.”
“N-no,” Jimin says, eyes frantic. “That’s not —“
“No need to be coy. I’ll give you exactly what you’re asking for, hm?” Jeongguk makes a point to close and lock the door behind him.
Jimin’s breathing heavy. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“You love it.”
“I don’t, that’s why I fucking broke up with you,” Jimin hisses.
Jeongguk snorts and advances, relishing the way Jimin swallows visibly and takes a step back. Poor baby hurts himself when he backs up a little too fast, right smack against the ceramic rim of the sink.
“Owie,” Jimin mumbles, rubbing his back.
Jeongguk coos, stepping forward and setting his hand over Jimin’s on the small of his back. “Still so clumsy.”
Jimin bristles. “Get away from me,” he says weakly. It’s frankly adorable.
“This wouldn’t even be our first time fucking in a place like this, would it?” Jeongguk breathes. He draws him in closer, hands on his hips. “You remember our third anniversary? When you jumped me in the restaurant restroom?”
“I did not — ah — jump you,” Jimin stutters out. He squirms in Jeongguk’s hold. “You dragged me in there.”
“It stank of lemongrass.”
Jimin huffs. “Not by the time we were done. The servers kept giving us dirty looks afterwards. And it was your fault. You and those — those fucking jeans.”
Jeongguk sighs. “They’re still ruined, by the way. Thanks to you.”
Jimin is a laughable shade of pink. “You’re the one who said I could ride your thigh!”
“I wasn’t going to say no. I could never say no to you, sweetheart.”
Jimin’s expression sours. “Except when I’m telling you to leave me alone, apparently.”
Jeongguk snorts. “Tell me that if I reached down right now you wouldn’t be soaking wet for me,” he murmurs, getting closer to Jimin. He has him cornered, locked in the bathroom with nowhere to go. “Hm?”
Jimin’s fuming, Jeongguk knows he is. And when Jimin’s exceptionally angry –
Tears well up in Jimin’s eyes, till they’re spilling over his lashes and making his eyes shine like crystals. Beautiful, like he always is.
Jeongguk’s cock stiffens in his pants, and he can’t help the groan that escapes him, can’t help how he lurches forward to grind against Jimin’s thighs, can’t help how his lips find Jimin’s, easy as breathing. One hand cups Jimin’s cheek, the other slides down to palm his ass.
Jimin doesn’t kiss him back, but Jeongguk can feel him squirm. He’s always been needy, he just likes pretending he’s not; like now, with his hands flat on Jeongguk’s chest in silent protest. When they were dating, Jeongguk distinctly remembers him almost constantly pleading for him, whether it be his touch, his kisses, or his cock.
Jeongguk always obliged, and he doesn’t see a reason why he shouldn’t now. Jimin clearly misses him, even if he might be pissed off. Jeongguk knew that even before he’d shown up at the laundromat — Jimin’s recent Netflix history tells him all he needs to know — and he’s only more certain of it now that he’s seen the look in Jimin’s eyes when he stares at him. Like he hates that he wants Jeongguk, but he wants him anyway.
He wants him anyway, and Jimin’s never been one to stay stoic when Jeongguk’s trying to kiss the brattiness out of him. He always folds.
And just like that, Jimin’s hands fall limp. He melts into Jeongguk, and it sets him off.
Desire ignites in Jeongguk’s blood.
Jeongguk tugs the waistband of his sweatpants all the way down, till they’re bunching around his ankles, before cupping his clothed cunt to check, and sure enough: Jimin’s soaked through the fabric.
He smiles into the kiss. Pulls away right after, mouths apart but foreheads pressed together. He has his fingers gripping Jimin’s head, nails against his scalp as he angles him so he can’t look away.
“So predictable,” Jeongguk whispers. “You’re lucky hyung’s never going to get sick of having you like this.”
Jimin trembles against him. He says nothing.
Jeongguk knows just how much Jimin loves being loved. There’s nothing wrong with him using this intrinsic, desperate need for validation for his own ends. After all, he just wants to give Jimin exactly what he wants, and more.
Jimin makes soft sounds of protest when Jeongguk starts to toss him around a little, flipping him around so he’s facing the smudged mirror, and delivering a sharp slap to his ass. Yet, they’re both aware that any resistance he’s displaying is all performative — Jimin likes it. Likes being thrown around and manhandled. Roughed up. Treated like the pretty doll he is.
He suspects the only noise of genuine complaint Jimin makes is when Jeongguk tears his panties in his haste to get him half-naked.
“Those were forty thousand won,” Jimin grumbles.
“I’ll buy you three more pairs, sweetheart,” Jeongguk murmurs.
Jimin opens his mouth to retort back, but Jeongguk shoves his fingers into his mouth. “Bite and I leave marks all over you,” he warns. “It’d be trashy to show up to a date with hickeys all over your neck, even for you.”
It takes a second or two of muffled grumbling, but Jimin eventually settles, mouth hot and wet around Jeongguk’s fingers. He doesn’t suck, just lets them lay flat on his tongue as he glares at him in the mirror. Jeongguk doesn’t mind.
Jimin’s ass is just as perfect as Jeongguk remembers, and his cunt just as pretty, fat folds glistening under the bright fluorescent lights of the bathroom.
He’s a fever dream in the mirror, framed by a smattering of typical public bathroom grime and water smudges. Plush lips stretched around Jeongguk’s fingers, gaze so intense Jeongguk can’t say if he’s angry or horny, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s both. Sweater sleeves fallen, his shoulders and neck are bare and exposed. His nipples are so hard they’re visible through his tank top.
Exhilaration rises in Jeongguk. His cock throbs. He’s missed this.
He reaches down and thumbs at Jimin’s clit, savouring the way Jimin’s hips jump and the pressure on Jeongguk’s digits gets way higher. Even with his fingers in his mouth, Jimin’s still trying to avoid making noise.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” Jeongguk says. “Still so sensitive for me.” He bends — presses a kiss on Jimin’s bare shoulder and sighs. “I missed you.”
He doesn’t need to look up to know how Jimin’s stubborn facade must crumble at that, but he does anyway, flicking his gaze up to the mirror. Jimin’s reflection and his eyes — they say it all. How, deep down, Jimin must be thinking the exact same thing.
It’s the perfect time to undo his pants and free his stiff cock, slapping it against Jimin’s fat ass a couple of times just to see him flinch.
Jeongguk pulls away from Jimin’s mouth, settling his other hand on Jimin’s waist as he wraps his saliva-coated fingers around his cock and pumps once, twice, before spitting into his palm for more lubrication. He knows Jimin likes it just as sloppy as he does, so he spits another glob of saliva onto the tip of his cock right after.
Sliding his hand down the curve of his hip and thigh, Jeongguk cups his pussy and hums. He makes sure to find Jimin’s eyes in the mirror. “So fucking drenched,” he purrs. “And all for me.”
Jimin tenses. His bottom lip is jutting out. He makes no attempt to deny it – just lowers his face so he’s head-down against the rim of the sink. Arches his back a little, and it’s subtle, but Jeongguk catches it. He’s breaking Jimin. It’s gradual but so very clear.
His cock throbs in his hand. Jimin will be the death of him. He’s never been more certain.
He doesn’t waste his time on any further words. Just lines his tip up between Jimin’s folds and pushes in, eyes closing involuntarily as pure wet heat envelopes him.
Jimin clenches tight around him, breath stuttering in his chest. He says nothing still, but Jeongguk isn’t worried. He’ll be getting vocal one way or another, by the time Jeongguk’s done with him.
Taking his time, Jeongguk sets a steady rhythm, pumping his cock in and out of Jimin without urgency. Mostly because he knows Jimin can’t stand it slow, but getting the time to savour this moment doesn’t hurt either. He runs his hands everywhere he can reach – over Jimin’s hips, his stomach, his stiff nipples, back to his ass. With every touch, Jeongguk can feel Jimin lose a little more of whatever stubborn resolve he was still holding onto.
Jimin gets squirmy quick. Doesn’t even try to hide it. It is, like most things to do with Jimin, fucking cute. Unfortunately for Jimin, Jeongguk’s more than willing to wait before he really fucks him properly, if it means Jimin willingly sets his pride aside and submits.
“J-jeongguk,” Jimin whispers, so soft Jeongguk almost doesn’t hear it. “Jeongguk, please?”
“Not Jeongguk, baby.”
It doesn’t take Jimin even a second.
“Hyung,” Jimin sobs, lifting his head so Jeongguk can see that he’s crying again. “Hyung, please.”
Jeongguk can’t look away. The tears on his cheeks and in his eyes shimmer like liquid diamonds, and it turns Jeongguk on so goddamn much he almost forgets himself, fingers digging so deep into the flesh of Jimin’s hips that the younger yelps out in pain.
And Jimin cries harder. Jeongguk’s jaw tightens, and he hesitates.
Fuck. He always ends up giving in, when he could stand to wait. He just needs to hold out till Jimin gives in a little more…
“Jeongguk-hyung,” Jimin mumbles out eventually. He holds Jeongguk’s gaze in the mirror, sniffling. “Fuck me properly. Please.”
“That wasn’t so hard,” Jeongguk sighs. He proceeds to pull out all the way, just to fuck hard back in, eliciting a ridiculously hot noise from Jimin that only turns into moaning as Jeongguk starts to really fuck him properly, just like he asked for.
Fast, hard, rough. Exactly how Jimin likes it, exactly how Jeongguk likes it — it’s just another way that they’re perfect for each other.
Jimin’s ass bounces each time Jeongguk fucks into him, and he doesn’t restrain himself this time; delivering slap after slap onto the fat of his cheeks and watching it jiggle. He’s fucking hypnotic.
“God, I fucking missed this pussy,” Jeongguk grits out, and Jimin tightens around him in response, whimpering.
It’s been a while, and he’s just as perfect — everything Jeongguk’s dreamed of. He’s barely jerked off in the time between his last fuck with Jimin and now; after years of incredible sex with Jimin, something within him just couldn’t quite fathom having to cum anywhere that wasn’t inside Jimin. Itching for a release would be putting it lightly. It’s been a month since Jimin left, and now he finally gets to feel him like this.
Jeongguk thinks this might be the happiest he’s been in months. It’s like he’s come home.
Except they’re not home at all. The diffuser in the air is unfamiliar, the room is far more stuffy than Jeongguk would like, though he supposes that the sex they’re having is mostly to blame for that, and most noticeably of all, Jimin’s bent over a sink instead of their bed.
Jimin can hardly keep his head up, face screwed up in pleasure. His mouth is hanging open, lips glossy and plush as he lets out soft staccato uh uh uhs, eyes glassy like he doesn’t even realise he’s making any noise at all. He’s unreal.
“Needy little slut,” Jeongguk rasps out. “Look so gorgeous taking my cock like this, spread out in some random bathroom.”
“You — you don’t get to be mean to me,” Jimin mumbles, with visible effort. Jeongguk can see the shine of his tears in the mirror. “We’re not dating anymore.”
“Maybe I should’ve been meaner when we were, then,” Jeongguk shoots back. “If it could’ve knocked some sense into you. Put you in your place a little. Then you would have known better than to leave me.”
Jimin shakes his head, but he says nothing. Just bites down on his bottom lip and lets his eyes slide closed.
Jeongguk doesn’t like that. He’s missing out on the view. Their reflections in the mirror. How perfect they look together.
If Jimin doesn’t want to look, Jeongguk will make him.
Holding Jimin’s arms firmly behind his back with one hand, Jeongguk wraps the other around his neck and forces his head up, so all he can do is stare at his reflection — at himself getting pounded.
“Want you to look in the mirror and see how pretty you are getting fucked,” Jeongguk breathes. “Don’t you think you look pretty, Jimin-ah?”
Jimin’s dazed, eyelashes fluttering. His mouth opens, but he’s completely incoherent. He doesn’t usually get so fucked out so early. Poor baby must have really been desperate for dick.
“C’mon, Jimin-ah,” Jeongguk coos. “Use your words.”
“I – ngh.” Jimin swallows. He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear his head. “Yeah.”
Jeongguk smiles. “Good.”
He relishes the music of it all: Jimin trying to choke back his moans but failing miserably as Jeongguk nails that spot in him just right, the rhythmic slap of his hips against Jimin’s ass, and the background noise of the cafe patrons outside, just barely audible, but enough to maintain that sick thrill running through his veins.
“You think they know exactly what’s going on in here?”
Jimin shakes his head. “D-don’t,” he mumbles, staring pleadingly at Jeongguk. “Don’t say that.”
“I might as well just be fucking you outside. In front of all those people.” Jeongguk slaps Jimin’s ass, eliciting a loud mewl from him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Jimin trembles. “I’m — I’m tired,” he whines. “Hyung, my legs hurt.”
Jeongguk lets the abrupt subject change go without teasing. “And what do you want hyung to do about it, hm?” Jeongguk leans down and presses kisses to the column of Jimin’s neck. He can feel Jimin’s pulse rabbiting away. If Jimin feels him being a little rougher than he needs to be, teeth scraping against Jimin’s feverish skin, he doesn’t say anything.
“Carry — carry me,” Jimin stutters.
Jeongguk pretends to consider it, humming. He slows to a stop, buried to the hilt in Jimin’s soft cunt.
“Beg,” he says, quiet.
Jimin draws a shuddering breath. “Please.”
Jeongguk waits.
“Please, hyung,” Jimin bleats.
Good enough. Jeongguk loops his arms around Jimin’s thighs and picks him up, lifting him with his cock still in him, making Jimin squeak. His hands grip tight at Jeongguk’s shoulders. Like this, Jimin’s completely exposed – the both of them can watch how Jeongguk’s cock disappears into Jimin’s tight cunt.
“O-oh my god,” Jimin says faintly. “Oh my god.”
“Gonna fill you up, fuck you full of my cum,” Jeongguk says, low in Jimin’s ear as he tugs on a fistful of Jimin’s hair. “Bred full just like how you were every single week before you broke up with me. You’d like that?”
Jimin can’t even speak. He looks like an angel undergoing corruption, spread apart and on display. Jeongguk can’t tear his eyes from him. The small details somehow make everything even hotter; how his fingers sink into the flesh of Jimin’s thighs. Jeongguk’s lips dragging against his soft skin. The barely noticeable shimmer of drool at the corner of his mouth. The way his sneaker-clad foot won’t stop twitching, with every time Jeongguk slams him down onto his cock.
Jeongguk’s known him his whole life, and somehow, it feels as if he’s seeing Jimin for the first time – experiencing him anew. And as if he weren’t already inside him, it makes Jeongguk want to drop to his knees and worship him and shove his cock down his throat and in his ass and make him cry even harder than he is right now.
God, maybe he should invest in a bigger mirror for their apartment. It’d sure as hell be worth being able to see Jimin like this while fucking him from the back, pretty face lax with pleasure and perfect body like he’s stepped out of Jeongguk’s wildest dreams.
Jimin’s close. It’s written all over his face, it’s clear as day in his body language, how he’s tightening and relaxing that vice grip around Jeongguk’s cock. Jeongguk figures some teasing wouldn’t be out of place.
“You think that blind date’s going to be able to fuck you like this?” Jeongguk lifts him up till only the tip of his cock is inside, before dropping him down hard. “Hm? You think he could satisfy you like I am?”
All Jimin does is squeal and whimper. He’s tense all over. Frantic.
Jeongguk bites at the base of his neck. “Answer me, Jimin-ah.”
“N-no,” Jimin manages to choke out, shocked into coherent words. “No, hyung.”
“Good,” Jeongguk sighs, and he’s fucking hard into Jimin again, tip snagging against what he’s certain is his sweet spot, and Jimin moans loud, so loud he’s definitely sure they’ve been heard from outside, and he can’t hold back anymore, jackhammering his hips into Jimin as he chases release for the both of them.
He stares into the mirror, eyes lidded. Jimin is so beautiful it hurts.
He wants to kiss him, so he does – captures Jimin’s lips in a sweltering kiss and shows him exactly how much he fucking adores him, loves him, misses him. It’s a plea of come back to me, almost tender, and it would be, if he wasn’t eight inches in Jimin’s guts right now.
Jimin’s thighs quake when he comes, back arching and body spasming so violently as he tries to close his legs that Jeongguk nearly loses his grasp on Jimin before he manages to use the wall as support. Characteristically, Jimin remains almost entirely quiet beyond a soft mewl or two. It’s a quirk that he’s always had, and it always threw Jeongguk off, but now it’s more endearing than anything; how he could be so loud when they were fucking, but not say a thing when he comes.
Jimin pulls away and he’s sniffling, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and Jeongguk’s gone – snaps his hips up one last time, and he comes, spurting his seed into Jimin’s wet heat, contracting around him.
Jeongguk only pulls out once he’s sure that every last bit of his cum is in Jimin.
He sets Jimin down gingerly, and the younger nearly folds, bending over and gripping the sink. Jeongguk takes care to make sure he isn’t going to fall over before his hands leave his hips, and he’s stepping back to admire his work.
Utter satisfaction fills him. His cock gives one last twitch when he sees white start to drip from between Jimin’s folds.
“Oh my god,” he hears Jimin whisper. Even with both hands on the sink rim, the younger starts to sway on his feet. Jeongguk puts a hand on his waist to steady him, but he doesn’t even think he notices it.
Jimin is completely out of it, and Jeongguk is far too smug. Things don’t change. He’s always been able to fuck the brains out of Jimin. Always will be.
It’ll take a while for the post-orgasm haze to clear, so Jeongguk helps him put on his clothes up until it does, which is when he starts to smack his hands away.
“So…” Jeongguk starts. Jimin gives no indication he’s heard him. “We might as well get back together now. Since we’ve already fucked.”
That gets Jimin to whip his head around and stare. “No,” he says after a short pause. “That’s not how that works.”
“Why not?”
“No,” Jimin repeats. He tugs his sweater back on. “I’m leaving. Don’t follow me.”
Jeongguk sighs, playing up his disappointment. “No hyung? You didn’t seem to have so much trouble with honorifics when you were crying on my cock.”
Jimin at least has the shame to look embarrassed. “Fuck you.” He shoves past Jeongguk, heading for the door.
“You already did,” Jeongguk calls after him. He pauses to think for a moment, before adding, mostly because he knows it’ll piss Jimin off, “and I think you know that nobody else you fuck will ever be able to measure up.”
Jimin holds up his middle finger. He doesn’t turn back, but Jeongguk doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s blushing.
Just a few hours later, Jeongguk gets word from a friend that Jimin’s postponed his date.
Jeongguk 2, Jimin 0.
-
Jimin thinks that they were doomed from the start.
Okay, things were fine at first. The fact that they grew up together helped more than harmed their relationship. After all, Jeongguk was the handsome hyung next door – insanely charming and popular at school. Jimin doesn’t think there was any doubt he would’ve developed a crush on him, though it’s still mildly surprising that Jeongguk reciprocated his feelings. They were together for a while, and they really were good together, just like Jeongguk says. But their opinions diverge from there.
Jeongguk says that Jimin got scared, which, yes, fine, is true, and it sounds ridiculous whenever Jimin talks about it, because Jeongguk really just loved Jimin way too much, and it really, honestly, just… freaked Jimin out.
It was nothing like their early days and their honeymoon phase. He got controlling and demanding — and maybe Jimin’s half to blame for that, because he did kind of enjoy it at first. For better or for worse, Jimin does tend to like possessiveness in a partner, and he was admittedly kind of ditzy at times, though he blames it on the lovesick goggles he had on whenever he was with Jeongguk.
It started with small things, like tracking his timetables so closely he’d wind up memorising them, which was cute in high school but turned a little bit too much once he got to college, or being overly possessive, even around friends. It didn’t matter whether they were Jimin’s or Jeongguk’s friends, he’d just be massively overbearing, and it got old quick.
Then they developed into big things, like breaking a stranger's nose and jaw because he hit on Jimin for a minute, unaware that he had a boyfriend. Jimin had excused his behaviour at the time, telling his unconvinced friends (and himself) that the sunbae was actually making Jimin uncomfortable and it was sweet of Jeongguk.
Though the look on his face when he had the poor guy on the floor… despite Jimin pleading with him to stop, fingers clamped around his bicep, Jeongguk just wouldn’t let up. Fists flying and a manic light in his eyes. It scared Jimin a bit, he can’t lie.
And Jeongguk hadn’t seemed remorseful, not even when the sunbae was threatening to press charges. He just paid for their tabs and saved his number in the sunbae’s phone, telling him to text his medical fees so Jeongguk could cover them. Then he offered his hand to Jimin, and they left.
They aren’t allowed back into that bar to this day.
Nothing else as bad as that night ever happened afterwards, but it definitely put some strain on their relationship. Jimin was more combative than he’d ever been, and they were arguing a lot more. It was harder to find ways to defend Jeongguk’s actions, so eventually he just stopped.
Clearly, they weren’t good for each other. So Jimin broke up with him.
Jeongguk had taken it way too well. Listened to him without voicing a single complaint, sat there on his bed with his big eyes blinking up at him, watched as Jimin paced and fidgeted and forced the words out while trying his hardest not to cry.
“Do you get what I mean?” Jimin had said finally at the end of his ramble, chest heaving and hands restless.
“Yeah,” Jeongguk had said, and Jimin had nodded jerkily and proceeded to make an awkward exit. He’d left Jeongguk’s apartment thinking that the breakup had gone oddly smoothly, almost to the point that it was suspicious, but he was relieved nonetheless. It was over, and now all he had to focus on was school and learning how to be single again. It’d been a while, after all, but Jimin was cautiously optimistic either way.
He’d be okay without Jeongguk. Better, even, without him being constantly overbearing and possessive.
Then Jeongguk had come up to him after his classes the next day and walked him home.
It had Jimin going crazy. Had he dreamt their breakup? Did Jeongguk not understand? Would he have to break up with him a second time?
So Jimin had asked — was Jeongguk aware that they weren’t together anymore?
And Jeongguk had laughed.
Jimin should’ve known better, really. He knows Jeongguk well enough to know he wasn’t going to let things end like that, but was still foolish enough to assume that he wouldn’t need to take any necessary precautions against him.
Jeongguk kept showing up, so Jimin swapped what he could of his time slots with a few acquaintances and requested a shift for the rest. It worked for a while, but again, Jimin was foolish to think that a simple change in his timetable could stop Jeongguk.
When Jeongguk puts his mind to something, there’s not much anyone can really do to stop him. It used to be admirable, and to a certain point it still is. But it sure as hell is a pain in Jimin’s ass.
It wasn’t all bad. Sure, Jeongguk’s followed him around, saying the same thing – we should get back together again, baby – but it’s actually never gotten as bad as last week, in that random cafe bathroom.
Jimin shivers at the memory.
He still hasn’t gone to the police. He should, but he just can’t bring himself to. He doesn’t actually want any legal consequences to befall Jeongguk, as much as he’s threatened to report him. Jimin hates to admit it, but he kind of… kind of likes the attention.
Sue him – Jeongguk’s still as attractive as ever. Still knows his way around Jimin’s body like it’s nothing. And it’s nice feeling wanted. After all, that’s the reason why he’s even trying to get back out there into the dating world (assuming he was ever in it in the first place, since Jeongguk was his first and only boyfriend).
So now he’s on his way to meet Jaehyun.
And he has a bad feeling about it, but he might as well go. He already cancelled on the guy once. Twice would just be rude.
The train whooshes in, tousling his hair and messing up twenty minutes of hard work. He thinks sourly that he should’ve used hairspray before he left the apartment. Now all he can do is try to fix it and pray he looks presentable enough.
Eyes angled up and fingers busy trying to style his bangs, he boards the train, just barely mindful of the people around him. He stands in the corner and tries to, with the help of his phone camera, get his hair to frame his face perfectly, the way it looked before the wind had ruined it. It takes a while, but Jimin’s relieved when he does manage to tame his bangs and touch up his makeup at the same time.
He turns off his phone and glances outside. By now, the train’s about halfway to the next station. Three more stops before he has to alight.
Jimin wonders how Jaehyun will be like. He doesn’t have any non-Jeongguk experience in romance beyond movies and shojo manga, so he hopes he can hold his own against Jaehyun, who he’s told has dated around.
He wonders how similar he will be to Jeongguk.
It’s flattering, babe. You miss me that much?
God, Jimin’s mad just thinking about him. He’s not even here and Jimin’s fuming.
Because it’s true. Jimin does miss Jeongguk that much, that when a sunbae he was moderately close to had sent him a photo of Jaehyun with the caption hey he’s actually a lot like your ex-boyfriend lol Jimin had wholeheartedly taken the bait and texted back with a frantic number???? and a single????
It was stupid. He knows. It is stupid. Rebounds aren’t something Jimin ever thought he’d entertain, mainly because — well, he’d thought he and Jeongguk would’ve been forever. But he was wrong, so why not try a rebound? It’s not like Jaehyun’s looking for anything too serious either, from what he’s gathered of their conversations over text.
Why can’t Jimin just have a little fun with it?
He exhales deeply, eyes closed.
His skin prickles, and he opens his eyes. He feels as if he’s being watched. It’s a feeling he’s very familiar with these days, and it makes him so anxious and nervous each and every time. It also doesn’t help that it’s usually just the one person who’s constantly watching him. But this time it can’t be… right?
As surreptitiously as he can, Jimin sweeps his gaze across the other commuters in the carriage. Stranger, stranger, stranger, stranger, oh —
His breath catches in his throat and he turns immediately.
Heart steadily picking up speed in his chest, he moves through the train carriages as fast as he can without looking insane or drawing too much attention, and he thinks he makes it pretty far, but he turns around again and immediately spots Jeongguk following not too far behind with that same look in his eyes he gets whenever he’s watching Jimin in public, and suddenly Jimin feels a lot more panicky.
He mutters a whole series of excuse me, sorry, pardon, coming through as he sidesteps and wades his way through groups of people.
Then the train stops. They’ve reached the next station. The doors slide open, and a flood of people surge right through, filling up the carriage that he’s in and effectively blocking off any exit or escape that Jimin might have had. He can’t get off the train, he can’t move to the next carriage because it’s far too crowded to squeeze by, he can’t run away.
His heart is in his throat. It’s crowded. Jeongguk wouldn’t try anything.
He takes a quick glance back. Doesn’t see anything. It’s crowded. Maybe Jeongguk lost sight of him. He just needs to keep a low profile.
The tide of commuters guide him to the back of the train, and he ducks right into the corner, between a row of seats and the doors. It’s crowded, and he’s small. He keeps his gaze down.
A series of disgruntled noises seem to rise, shifting people grunting and scoffing as they’re jostled. Jimin wonders what’s going on, but he doesn’t dare to look up. He presses his lips together and plants his feet apart, getting ready for the train to move.
The doors close, and they’re off, with no further incident. Jimin sends silent prayers up the entire time as they’re heading to the next station.
Just two more and he’d have made it to where he agreed to meet his date. Surely Jeongguk wouldn’t try anything in the presence of someone else, let alone multiple strangers?
Satisfied that he’s safe, at least for now, Jimin slides on his headphones. His favourite idol group just dropped a new album, and he’s been jumping at the chance to listen to new music that he doesn’t associate with Jeongguk whatsoever.
The final notes of the first track echo into silence just as the train arrives at the next station. Jimin glances up as people leave the train and others stream in, most of them seeming to be office workers with gaunt expressions fixed on their faces. He figures there’s enough space for him to come forward a little. He doesn’t particularly want to fight to get to the front when he has to alight at the station after.
A hand wraps around his wrist, yanking him backwards into a hard body, and Jimin’s pushing his headphones down, ready to yell at this asshole for having the gall to put his hands on him when he could’ve very much just asked him nicely to move in, when he realises the grasp around his hand feels oddly familiar. He recognises that touch, and he’s pressed up against a body that, surprisingly, doesn’t feel all that alien to him as he processes the torso against his back.
His blood runs cold.
Jimin turns back to see Jeongguk, towering over him. He has a black mask on, but he can tell he’s wearing a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Fancy meeting you here, sweetheart.”
He presses up against Jimin, body flush against his. It’s almost suffocating, and Jimin’s hit with major deja vu. They’re backed into the corner of the train, right beside the doors.
No one’s looking — they’re either facing away or on their phones. But Jimin can’t count on them being distracted forever. Jeongguk is very likely going to do something highly inappropriate to Jimin in public, and he can’t quite seem to decide whether it’s better that no one helps him, or that everyone notices.
“Nowhere to run now, hm?”
Every rational thought in his brain is all saying the same thing: REMOVE YOURSELF FROM THIS SITUATION, GET AWAY FROM HERE, RUN.
But Jimin can’t move. His muscle memory is telling him to grind back. His body remembers Jeongguk perfectly, like every dip and groove is tailored to him. They just fit together. Some kind of messed up jigsaw pieces.
The part that wants out regardless of the how is telling Jimin to simply open his mouth and scream, but Jeongguk claps a hand over his lips before he can make any kind of noise. Always a step ahead of him. Knowing what he’s going to do before he even does it.
Jimin glares at him.
“C’mon,” Jeongguk chides. “I haven’t even done anything fun yet.”
Jimin tries to bite Jeongguk’s hand. He doesn’t even flinch, the psychopath. Jeongguk just tastes like skin and lemon body wash.
“I’m sure you don’t want anyone to notice you,” Jeongguk whispers, breath on the shell of his ear. “Let alone hear you.”
“What the hell are you going to do?” Jimin asks, voice low. He’s very thankful that his voice doesn’t waver.
The truth is that Jimin’s scared. He doesn’t know how far Jeongguk’s willing to go, not after last week, and he doesn’t know what to do. Should he give in? Should he rail against Jeongguk no matter what? Would Jeongguk be fazed if Jimin genuinely tried to ask for help from a third party?
The look in his eyes when he was beating up that sunbae flashes into Jimin’s mind.
Maybe Jimin should just give in. The sooner he has his fun, the sooner it’ll all be over. No one even has to know. The anxiety-ridden part of his brain is catastrophising heavily right now, but this doesn’t have to escalate at all. Right?
“Nothing you won’t enjoy,” Jeongguk replies, and Jimin can’t help the shiver that runs the length of his spine.
He doesn’t elaborate after that, so Jimin doesn’t bother asking. Jeongguk won’t answer. All he can do is bide his time and pray for the best.
At first, Jimin thinks maybe it isn’t going to be so terrible. Jeongguk hasn’t tried anything yet, other than invade his personal space, and if he’s trying to rationalise, that’s something particularly everyone’s guilty of on the Seoul metro during peak hour. And the train is pretty packed now. Maybe if it stays this crowded, he won’t actually do anything.
The station he was supposed to alight at comes and goes. Jimin watches wistfully as the station signs blur into darkness, and they’re travelling through tunnels again.
Right as they leave, Jimin feels something hard press up against his back, and he stiffens.
It starts with grinding.
Jeongguk ruts against his back, hips working against Jimin, and Jimin hates it — feels so exposed and disgusting and afraid that someone’s going to see it, but he can’t deny the drop of arousal at the bottom of his stomach, no matter how tiny. After all, it’s Jeongguk. He can’t help it.
But of course that wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Jeongguk.
So he starts to get bolder, hands roving his body, stopping to pinch and squeeze and caress. Jimin just tries to steady himself and pretend that literally anything else is happening. He thinks about what he’ll be eating for dinner tonight now that his date is presumably cancelled, he thinks about what movie he can put on later to comfort himself, he thinks about listening to the rest of that album from just now.
He vehemently ignores that burn at the base of his tummy.
But by the time the next station comes and goes, Jimin’s a hair’s breadth away from being a total mess in Jeongguk’s arms. Jeongguk has his hands on his chest, fingers rubbing insistently against Jimin’s nipples. Jimin can feel them hardening, sending jolts of arousal directly to his clit, and has to bite back moans.
The stiff cock between Jimin’s ass cheeks isn’t helping, either. Jimin might as well not even be wearing anything, the way he can feel every inch of his cock through the material of his pants.
Jimin’s heart is pounding in his chest, breathing short. Jeongguk is going to be the death of him.
It’s not crowded to the point that they’re all packed together like sardines in a tin, but it’s populated enough, with groups of people spread out and standing. All the seats are taken.
“Are you scared?” Jeongguk murmurs into his ear. “That people are going to see you like this?”
Jimin doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.
He’s surprised people haven’t noticed — Jeongguk isn't exactly trying to hide what he’s doing to Jimin. But even when he sneaks a glance or two around, most are on their phones, sleeping, or simply not paying attention. He can’t find anyone staring. And Jimin’s sure that they would be staring if they knew.
Jimin’s getting that tingly feeling in his eyes. He hates feeling this way, so antsy and nervous and he can’t even control his body or what’s going to happen to him. He doesn’t know what’s about to happen and that scares him.
He knows Jeongguk likes it when he cries, and sometimes he does try a little harder to get the waterworks going, but this time he doesn’t even need to try at all. It’s not even on purpose. He’s just scared.
Jeongguk doesn’t take long to realise he’s crying. There’s a sharp intake of breath behind him, a hissed ‘fuck’, and then he’s tearing at his clothes. Any pretence of appropriate behaviour has been abandoned.
No no no no is all Jimin can think as his pretty skirt is torn up to give Jeongguk better access between his legs. He feels almost numb.
Jeongguk rucks up the ripped skirt, untucks his blouse so he can reach one hand under it to grope at his chest, before he pauses.
Jimin yelps when the waistband of his underwear is snapped against his hip.
Jeongguk sounds pleasantly surprised when he speaks. “You’re wearing the panties I sent you.”
Jimin shrinks into himself. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he says. It sounds weak even to his own ears.
“Wearing panties another man bought you to a date,” Jeongguk tuts. He tweaks at Jimin’s nipple. “I never knew you could be so trashy, Jimin-ah.”
Against all reason, Jimin actually gets a little hurt. So, naturally, he lashes out. “I’ll be trashy if I want to be,” he spits, turning around and staring Jeongguk right in the eye. “It’s none of your fucking business since we’re not dating anymore, actually.”
Jeongguk’s jaw locks. Jimin realises too late that that was not a good idea.
Jeongguk looks away. Looks down, and the next thing Jimin knows, the head of Jeongguk’s cock is splitting him open from behind.
A gasp tears its way from his throat, but he shuts his mouth just in time, both hands smacked over his lips.
Shamefully, he’s wet enough that it doesn’t burn, but Jimin can still feel the stretch — something far too familiar for a situation so horribly alien to him.
Jeongguk doesn’t care, he’s sure. Just pushes in, hand firm on his hip as he guides his thick cock deeper into Jimin.
Jimin expects about five seconds of acclimatisation before Jeongguk starts fucking him like normal, but quickly comes to the realisation that Jeongguk has decided on a very different approach.
It’s less than fucking and more than cockwarming. It’s far more intense than usual, and it feels like Jeongguk’s deeper in him somehow, despite not pulling out to fuck back in at all. All he’s doing is grinding his cock inside him and Jimin thinks he’s about to go insane.
Jimin hates it. It’s too intense, he feels too hot, it’s too slow, every time Jeongguk’s head scrapes against his g-spot he wants to scream, but he can’t.
His toes are curled in his boots. He can’t decide if this is better or worse than if he just railed him in front of everybody.
At least it’s more inconspicuous. Quieter. No one’s going to hear the wet squelch of his pussy when they’re travelling through underground tunnels and most people have earphones in.
He closes his eyes. Maybe he can get through this fine.
Jeongguk seems set on ruining his plans to pretend nothing is happening. He feeds him whispers of ‘I think that woman over there just heard you moan’ and ‘the man next to us is staring at your ass’ and other lies that have Jimin’s paranoia acting up. He opens his eyes every time to check, and each time it’s nothing.
But he just gets wetter and wetter. It’s so strange. He’s so afraid, but so turned on by the same thought of strangers perceiving him at his most vulnerable and intimate.
He even settles into it a little. Tries to let himself float along the stimulation and enjoy the ride. Relaxes into Jeongguk, just a bit. He even fucks back onto Jeongguk as much as he can, using the reasoning that the faster Jeongguk finishes, the faster this will be over. This isn’t for his personal gratification, this is just so it’ll be over. If it so happens that speeding up the process means that he’ll be gaining pleasure from it too, then so be it.
He can feel Jeongguk smile when the older kisses his neck.
Just like that, Jimin drifts away into that heavy headspace. Mindless grinding, cunt too full for him to think too much. Feels too good.
Minutes tick by like hours. Jimin vaguely registers the train slowing to a standstill. His eyes open sluggishly. The station name is announced through tinny speakers, and the doors slide open. More people get off than get on, which means that the train car gets a lot less crowded, which means that Jimin‘s a lot more exposed, and these new people boarding the train have caught sight of him, and they’re staring —
And it’s over. Jimin freezes.
Murmurs of disbelief turn into gasps of scandalisation, echoing around the entire carriage and even further. People start moving away. Jimin can feel the eyes on him like slime covering his entire body.
All Jimin can do is cover his face and pray he won’t end up as a headline for the next week.
“Took them long enough.” Jeongguk sounds like he’s rolling his eyes. “Seriously. The prettiest thing in the world getting fucked right in front of them and they only notice now.”
“S-stop it,” Jimin begs. His tears are salty.
Jeongguk tears Jimin’s hands away from his face, locking them behind his face. “Don’t hide, baby. Show them how beautiful you look when you cry.”
It’s like a car crash. Once Jimin opens his eyes, he can’t stop staring in horror at everything around him.
Now they’re really the centre of attention, given a wide berth by every other commuter that just makes it seem like there’s a crowd gathered around them specifically, which is so much worse.
People are staring. Whispering. Some even have their phones out to film. Slut, he’s sure they’re thinking and saying. Whore.
Jimin closes his eyes and cries harder. He wishes he could crawl into a hole and never come out again. Through it all, he tries to seek some kind of solace in Jeongguk, shrinking into him. Things really never change. Try as he might, he always gives into Jeongguk.
It seems Jeongguk has other plans.
“Finally, some space,” Jeongguk says. He sounds utterly unbothered that there will be pictures and videos of this, of their faces, plastered on every inch of the internet for the next month and beyond. This will follow them around till they die. Jimin doesn’t understand what the hell must be going through Jeongguk’s head —
Right. Jeongguk’s wearing a mask. The only one facing humiliation for this, both here and in the future, is Jimin.
His heart drops to his feet.
Just then, Jeongguk wraps Jimin’s fingers around one of the grab handles hanging above him. “Hold on tight,” he says. Jimin obeys instinctively.
Then, placing both hands on Jimin’s hips, Jeongguk pulls all the way out… and fucks back in, bottoming out in one fell swoop. Jimin keens out, fingers singing out when he lurches with nearly his entire body weight supported by his hands on the handle. Out of pure habit, his back arches. He’s so full.
“Finally gonna fuck you the way you like, baby,” Jeongguk says, tone light.
“I — I don’t — oh!” Jimin cries out, slapping a hand over his mouth when Jeongguk strikes his g-spot dead on, before setting a vicious pace that has him hanging onto the handle for dear life.
He feels like he’s going crazy. Every time Jeongguk’s fat cock pumps in and out of him he thinks that drop of arousal in his stomach feels more like a flood, getting bigger, greater, more, till a blazing heat is rising within him, begging for satisfaction.
Jeongguk reaches down to pinch at his swollen clit and Jimin’s thighs quiver so hard he almost loses his balance.
And this time Jimin can definitely hear it from the other commuters — slut. Disgusting. Loose.
Somehow, it makes Jimin feel icky and so fucking horny at the same time. He can’t seem to decide whether the shame wins his internal turmoil or not.
Jeongguk huffs out a laugh. He doesn’t stop thrusting into Jimin’s cunt.
“J-jeongguk-hyung —“ Jimin whispers, eyes darting back as he tries to twist his body to face him. “Hyung, everyone’s watching.”
“You like this, don’t lie, baby,” Jeongguk dismisses. He spanks Jimin’s ass and snorts when someone nearby flinches at the sound. “You’re letting me fuck you in public because you like it.”
“N-no,” Jimin stutters out, but he’s not even sure of it himself. “No, I — I don’t.”
Jeongguk snorts. “You could’ve left if you wanted to,” he says, and Jimin hates it, hates that everything he’s saying is true. “You could’ve screamed, yelled, punched me in the fucking face.” Jeongguk lifts Jimin’s face delicately, index finger resting underneath his chin.
Jimin waits for the but that he knows is coming.
“But you didn’t. Because you’re a needy little thing who likes getting fucked. And you like when people are watching. Don’t you?”
Jimin swallows.
If it’s going to happen, he might as well enjoy it. Nothing more to it. It doesn’t mean he agrees. He’s just making the most of his situation.
And he’s so disgustingly wet. It’s almost shameful, the way Jeongguk faces no resistance whatsoever as he fills Jimin – it’s like he’s in his guts. Jimin can feel every inch of his cock, dragging against his sensitive walls in a way that sends shocks of pleasure through him. His orgasm builds steadily.
It gets harder and harder to try to keep quiet.
“Look at that.” Jeongguk angles his head left, right at where a man who must be several years older than him sits, palming his cock through his pants.
Fuck. Jimin whimpers. He doesn’t dare make eye contact.
“How far do you think they’d be willing to go to get a little taste of you, hm?” Jeongguk’s speaking softly, mouth by Jimin’s ear as he forces Jimin to keep looking. “Should I let him have a taste? Let all these people get a chance to try out those dick-sucking lips?”
“No – please, hyung,” Jimin mumbles, half-sobbing. “Only want you, I don’t – I don’t want anyone else touching me.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe, when your little cunt’s only getting tighter by the minute.” Jeongguk’s gripping his chin hard now, touch bordering on painful. “You would love getting whored out to random men, I think. Anything that’ll fill this greedy pussy, right?”
“S-stop,” Jimin cries. The humiliation is scalding, the weight of the stares of the people around him heavy on his body. “Stop it, hyung. I don’t – want that.”
Jeongguk’s eyes gleam. “Well,” he says, and there’s a note in his voice that sounds almost dangerous, “let’s give them more of a show, then.”
With that, Jeongguk rips off Jimin’s blouse completely, exposing his stiff nipples and quivering stomach to the crowd, and he gives Jimin no time to process anything before he’s fucking right back into him, tip catching on Jimin’s g-spot and making his eyes roll back in his head.
Through the rush of blood in his ears, Jimin can barely register the feeling of hands on his chest and torso, fingers tugging and pinching and scratching at his skin, let alone figure out if the hands on him are Jeongguk’s or someone else’s.
Is there even a point trying to be modest anymore? He’s already getting fucked in front of all these people. He’s devoid of dignity and shame at this point. There’s nothing he can do that’ll be worse than all this.
So he just closes his eyes and lets himself feel everything. Doesn’t bother trying to be quiet, doesn’t bother trying to hide his body from the onlookers, doesn’t bother hiding his pleasure.
His tears taste of salt, but they’re not spurred by anxiety or fear or discomfort anymore.
Jimin feels good. He feels free.
As always, Jeongguk makes it very clear how he appreciates Jimin’s watery eyes. The older doesn’t carry or lift him like he did last week, but the way he handles Jimin more than makes up for it, movements rough and abrupt as his hips slap obscenely against Jimin’s ass, one hand wrapped around Jimin’s wrists and the other reached forward to thumb at his clit.
Time oozes on. It’s as if he’s a doll, used just for Jeongguk’s pleasure. A pretty mannequin, a porcelain pin-up that’s a glorified fleshlight. Jeongguk’s hands are on his hips and they’re so firm on his skin Jimin thinks there’ll be marks later on – imprints of his large hands on Jimin’s small frame.
Coherent thought is harder than it’s ever been. He feels like he’s floating, deaf and blind to anything that isn’t overwhelming pleasure, isn’t Jeongguk’s cock, filling him up so good he can’t believe he ever thought to leave him. How could he, when he feels so good he thinks he’s going to die?
There’s no fanfare building up to his climax. Just Jeongguk, breathing heavy with his head resting on Jimin’s shoulder. He’s close too; starts to moan softly, audible for just Jimin to hear, and that’s enough for that tension within Jimin to snap.
Jimin loses all control over himself when he finally comes. He convulses, grip going so tight around the handle that his fingernails dig into his palms hard, muscles jerking as his knees go weak and he nearly falls over, body twitching violently as the orgasm wracks him. His mouth opens around a silent scream, eyes scrunched tightly closed.
He experiences pure bliss for five seconds. His cunt spasms around Jeongguk’s cock, erratic and intense.
Jeongguk’s swearing, syllables sharp and spat like he’s snarling the words out, and then he’s coming too, with one final thrust that knocks the breath out of Jimin. Warmth floods Jimin’s insides. Jimin sighs. Slumps back onto Jeongguk, throwing his head back onto his shoulder. Closes his eyes.
What happens next is a blur. Jimin doesn’t recall much between their climax and getting off the train, just a lot of movement and shouting, clothes thrown on Jimin, with one of his few vivid memories being how, at one point, Jimin ends up in Jeongguk’s arms, in a full-on bridal carry.
In all truthfulness, it’s nice being carried. Jimin can’t recall the last time Jeongguk’s picked him up like this, strong arms wrapped tight and secure around him. But he sure as hell isn’t going to tell him that.
“I can walk fine on my own,” Jimin mumbles, lucid enough to at least try to put up a fight but too tired to actually put effort into it.
“You don’t want to, though,” Jeongguk says, and Jimin promptly shuts up. He tugs what’s left of his clothes and Jeongguk’s coat into a more secure position over his bare body.
He’s more exhausted than he’d thought — he ends up falling asleep on the way back, face pressed to Jeongguk’s warm chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
He wakes up right as Jeongguk’s leaving the elevator in Jimin’s apartment. They end up right in front of Jimin’s door, and Jimin watches as Jeongguk swiftly punches in the passcode for the door.
Only for the door to beep a negative. That’s when he remembers that he changed the password precisely because of Jeongguk.
Ha. Jimin would gloat if he could even muster his voice. Guess he doesn’t really know everything about Jimin –
“Muscle memory, sorry,” Jeongguk hums, before trying again. This time, the door unlocks, beeping and opening.
It’s like he’s been slapped. Jimin makes a strangled noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh and turns away, choosing to face the pitch black of Jeongguk’s shirt and close his eyes as Jeongguk slips off his boots and tugs off Jimin’s sneakers.
Jeongguk carries him all the way into his apartment, expertly weaving through the mess strewn all over the place – Jimin’s always been a bit disorganised, and it really only got worse when Jeongguk wasn’t around to clean up after him. Eventually, they make it to the bathroom.
Jimin’s sat on the toilet, buck naked and thinking, as Jeongguk undresses. He’s half-sure the angel on his shoulder might be dead at this point. Showering together will be a terrible decision, he knows, but he’s pretty sure he’s long past the point of terrible decisions. He’s been past that since last week, actually.
So he acquiesces, gets into the shower when Jeongguk beckons him over. Lets Jeongguk pretend to finger the cum out of him – just to fuck him all over again, because Jeongguk is just horrifically insatiable like that. He leaves him dripping.
Then they get out of the bathroom, and Jeongguk makes him fried rice with the leftovers he had in the fridge. His cooking seems to have gotten even better in the time they’ve been apart, if that’s possible. Or perhaps it’s just a case of absence making the heart grow fonder. Not that Jeongguk was ever really absent from his life, but his food certainly was. And Jimin would be lying if he didn’t enjoy himself. He’s sore as all hell, but he’s really… missed this. In some fucked up way.
But he supposes that’s love, isn’t it?
“Tea tree?” Jeongguk asks from where he’s kneeling on the ground and looking through Jimin’s skincare drawer. This feels so odd. It’s exactly like how their night routines used to be – at either of their apartments, right after a good fuck.
Jimin doesn’t reply, but Jeongguk brings the face masks over anyway. “Lie down,” he instructs.
Jeongguk always took care of him so well. He always does.
Jimin begrudgingly lays still as Jeongguk carefully lays the face mask out on his face. The serum is nice and cool.
Guess things really don’t change. He can’t quite decide how he feels about it.
Maybe it’s better like this. It’s inexplicable, even to himself, but he still loves Jeongguk. Sure, they fought, but maybe Jimin acted too impulsively. Gave up too early. Is that how Jeongguk felt? That he didn’t fight hard enough for the two of them?
“Should I text Joohyun that you won’t ever be seeing him again?” Jeongguk asks conversationally, swiping through his phone. It doesn’t surprise Jimin that he still remembers his password.
“Do whatever you want,” Jimin mumbles.
A neutral ‘mhm’ is all Jeongguk offers in response, but Jimin knows he’s pleased. Jimin watches him fiddle around on his phone for a while before he tosses it aside and scoots over.
They cuddle, and Jimin lets them. For a second he almost thinks the breakup and everything after had just been a bad dream or a hallucination of some sort. It evokes a sense of deja vu – of that very first day after Jimin broke up with him.
But he knows better. His entire body’s sore. His clothes are still ripped on the floor. He knows he should say something – should try to talk things out, aim for some semblance of health in their relationship, but he can’t bring himself to break the silence that settles over them now.
Jimin’s tired and his stomach is full. He closes his eyes and lets Jeongguk’s body heat lull him to sleep.
As he’s hovering between deep sleep and half-consciousness, there’s a sigh. A hand gently tucks Jimin’s hair behind his ear.
“It’s so cute how you thought you could get away from me,” Jeongguk says, fond.
A hand tugs down Jimin’s sleep shorts.
Jimin drifts off with Jeongguk’s arms tight around him and his cock inside him. It’s the best sleep he’s gotten since the breakup.