jd-btsobsessed

[jd-btsobsessed]

A Shoulder to Cry On

A/N: Ooh, boy, this one took a while to nail down.  This fic has gone through so many drafts and iterations of the core idea that I think I’ve lost track.  This is one of the very first ideas I knew I wanted to do when I started writing fanfic, and I think I finally got it to where I’m happy with it.

Also, how the hell is this the first fic I’m posting that’s about Jungkook?  Wow, for being a crazy obsessed fan...I’m really falling down on the job.

best-friends!AU, friends-to-lovers!AU

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader

Synopsis: It’s a typical boring Friday night/Saturday morning when your phone rings.  Jungkook is on the other end...and he sounds...well, broken.  Assuming this is due to yet another failed relationship, you let him into your apartment.  But as the night progresses, it turns out all may not be as it appears...

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4K

Oh, my god, so bored.

That’s the only thought running through my head as I scroll through the most recent updates on Netflix. Why is there never anything good to watch?  I glance at my phone for about the sixteenth time in two hours.  Still no notifications.  I don’t know what I was expecting.  It’s not like I actually have friends.  Well, except for Jungkook.

The two of us…yeah, we go way back.  Like, all the way back to middle school.  We’ve been best friends – and I mean best friends – for several years.  We tell each other everything, and we’ve been through a lot of shit together.  It’s so strange…Jungkook was actually my first crush, back before I even knew what a crush really was.  I was thirteen, and as far as I was concerned, boys were icky…except for Jungkook.  He…well, he wasn’t.  I didn’t have any other explanation beyond that, but at the time I didn’t need one – I was a fickle teenager.

I don’t really remember how we actually started talking, but once we actually met and started hanging out, those feelings faded pretty quickly.  I still thought he was cute – hell, I still do – but after I started to get to know him, I started to see him differently, and before I knew it we were best friends.  Before the school year had ended we had already told each other every so-called “dirty” secret we had – most of which involved who we were crushing on at the time. Typical teenager-y shit, you know.

But it wasn’t until we got to high school that we really became super close.  Our relationship really turned a corner after the very first time Jungkook had asked a girl out.  She rejected him – I don’t really know who in their right mind would turn a boy like him down, but whatever – and he came over to my house, crying his eyes out and saying he would never ask another girl out ever again.  I stayed up with him pretty much the entire night trying to do whatever I could to comfort him, which is perhaps why I remember falling asleep in history class the following day.

I didn’t have my first foray into the dating world until sophomore year, but when I did…oh, boy. Basically, I was an idiot.  I had tried to be bold and ask a guy that I liked out for coffee one day, but as it happens that guy was a complete asshole. He not only rejected me, but told me that it was weird for a girl to ask a guy out in the first place.  He said it “just wasn’t normal”.  Whatever…dick.

So what did I do? I ran crying to Jungkook.  I explained the whole thing to him – through sobs and hiccups, of course…I don’t know how he managed to understand a word I said that day.  I do seem to remember the asshole coming to school the next day with a few cuts on his face and a bandaged hand though.  Somehow I always knew it was Jungkook’s doing, but when I confronted him about it, he just told me not to worry and that should any other guys try to screw me over in any way, he would…take care of it.  Hmm.

That cycle continued into our college years.  Even though we ended up going to different schools, we weren’t more than a couple of hours apart, so it wasn’t that big of a deal for Jungkook to just jump in his car – I didn’t have a car at the time – and come crash in my dorm room.  In fact, he made a habit of doing just that at least every other weekend.  He claimed he had friends on campus besides me, but I never actually met those “friends”, and I’m not convinced they even existed, since Jungkook would never spend more than hour away from me when he visited.

But while my dating life had slowed way down – okay, I won’t lie, it was practically nonexistent – Jungkook’s had seemingly stayed quite steady over the years.  It didn’t seem like he was too terribly interested in long-term relationships though, since the last time either of us had had to call the other for support was freshman year.  Still, we stayed closer than ever, and we even planned it out so that we could both come to each other’s graduation parties.  It was awesome.

I stifle a yawn as I toss my phone back onto the couch next to me.  It is 2:00 in the morning.  I should probably go to sleep soon.  Aw, but it’s Saturday.  Nobody cares if I sleep until 1:30 in the afternoon on a Saturday.  Maybe I’ll just—

So show me, I’ll show you…Show me, I’ll show you…So show me, I’ll show—

“Hello?” I answer my phone, interrupting the beautiful melody I chose as a ringtone.  Who on earth could be calling me at this hour of the—

“Y/N.”

The voice is quiet, broken…empty.  I’m slightly taken aback at how inhuman it sounds – like an imitation of a human voice rather than the real thing.

“I know I woke you,” it continues, “but, please…this is really important…”

There’s only one person I know that I’ve ever heard sounding this broken…but why is he calling me at this ungodly hour of the night?

“Kookie?” I whisper. “Kookie, what’s wrong?  Where are you?”

There’s a long pause, then Jungkook finally replies, “Can you let me in?”

I can hear muffled footsteps that suddenly stop in the background.  I slowly get up and make my way to my apartment’s front door, wondering what on earth could’ve brought him to my doorstep at 2:00 in the morning. As the door swings open I nearly drop my phone at the sight that greets me.

It is Jungkook, but he’s a shell of his former self.  His eyes are red, puffy, and hollow like a man whose soul has left him.  His cheeks are still wet, presumably with tears he hasn’t bothered to wipe away.  His dark brown hair is a tousled mess – it looks like he’s been running his hands through it all night.  He stands in my doorway, his shoulders drooped and head hanging low.  His whole demeanor is just…awful.

“Oh, my god, Kookie,” I whisper, moving forward to wrap my arms around his waist.  “Oh, my god, what happened to you?”

“I can’t—” Jungkook’s sobs cut off his words as he drops his head to my shoulder.

He wastes no time curling his arms around me, holding me tightly to him like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.  His breathing is ragged and uneven as he cries into my sweatshirt, the sounds muffled by the weight of the material.  I’ve never seen him this bad.  All the times I’ve seen him fall apart over a girl…it’s never been this bad.

What the hell happened to him?

  Ah, man, I think as I open my eyes.  How long has it been?

I try to move under the blanket on the couch, but the weight of an extra body keeps me from going too far.  Jungkook grumbles in his sleep, clutching my waist tighter to him as I try to reach for my phone.  I unlock the screen and nearly drop the thing, momentarily blinded by its brightness.

4:00am.  So it’s only been a couple of hours…yet somehow we both managed to fall asleep during that movie.  I had insisted that we put on something lighthearted and fun, more for background noise than anything else.  I know from experience that when Jungkook is sad or heartbroken or depressed – or all of the above – he needs something to distract him from the intensity of his feelings.  He had insisted on cuddling up with me on the couch, which I was more than happy to do – I always am, especially when he’s in such a state – and that’s what brings us to our current situation.

Setting my phone down, I gently stroke the top of Jungkook’s head as it rests on my chest. Jungkook’s said before that my boobs make pretty nice pillows – typical college guy, but it’s never offended me.  I’d rather be told that than the laundry list of downright awful pickup lines that have been thrown at me in various party settings.

Poor guy.  I wonder what exactly happened to reduce him to such a pitiful state.

Just as I’m thinking this, I feel Jungkook stir on top of me.  His legs move just enough to support him so that he can heft his head off of my chest and look at me with sleepy eyes.

“Hmm,” he groans, his voice rough and gravelly.  “What time is it?”

“4:00,” I whisper, using the opportunity to readjust my legs under him.

Jungkook’s head drops softly back to my chest and he makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.  I swallow the giggle that bubbles up at the sight, but just as I’m about to say something, a familiar sound fills the air – the rumbles of my empty stomach.

“Hungry?” Jungkook quips lazily as he peels himself off of me.  “I am too.”

I move to stand, thanking the powers that be for the freedom of movement.  Sometimes I forget how heavy that boy is.  I mean, he is a good eight or so inches taller than I am, so it makes sense.  It’s just been quite a while since anything like this has happened – long enough that I forgot what it feels like to have a full-grown man sprawled on top of me.

A good twenty or so minutes later I’m setting a big bowl of ramen in front of Jungkook at my tiny breakfast bar.  The boy closes his eyes and slowly inhales, almost drinking in the steam coming off of the broth, and for the first time tonight, he smiles.  It’s small and very much more subdued than usual, but I’ll take it.

“Thanks,” he says softly, looking at me with genuine gratitude on his face.

“Ah, it’s no big thing. You know you can always—”

“No,” Jungkook cuts me off, reaching for my hand and looking directly into my eyes, “I’m serious.”

Uh, okay.  It’s just ramen.  The question from before flashes back to my mind, and now I’m more curious than ever.  My concern for Jungkook’s wellbeing is also still present, but has definitely lessened given what’s gone down in the last couple of hours.  I watch as the boy starts eating, and I think perhaps he might be ready to talk.  It’s just a matter of how to ask him.

“Um,” I begin tentatively, “so, do you wanna, you know…talk about…anything?”

“Like?” Jungkook replies without looking up from his noodles.

“Like, why you’re sitting in my kitchen at 4:00am slurping down a huge bowl of ramen…”

“What?  I like the ramen you make.  Is that a crime all of a sudden?”

“Jungkook…”

My voice is firm yet gentle as I grab his hand and look him dead in the eyes.

“Why are you here?”

The boy doesn’t say anything right away.  Instead he just stares wide-eyed at me, seemingly searching my face for something. It’s not uncomfortable yet, but if the air in here gets any heavier, it’s gonna give the smog outside a run for its money.

“I can’t tell you,” Jungkook finally says in a hollow voice as he drops his gaze to his bowl.

“What?  Why not?” I ask, the frustration building up in my voice. “Do you think I’ll be mad at you or something?  Because if that’s the case, I don’t know where you’ve been for the last decade. You should know by now that it would take—”

“That’s not it.  At least, I hope not.”

Jungkook sighs quietly, searching the air above him for the words he needs.

“Then what is it?” I ask slowly, confused more by his tone than his words.

Silence takes over the room for a moment as Jungkook gazes back at me, his eyes filled with something I’ve never seen in them before – guilt.  Okay, this is getting too real.

“Kookie, you’re starting to scare me.  You’ve gotta tell me what’s wrong.  Normally I wouldn’t push this hard, but I want to help you, and I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

“I want to tell you,” the boy whispers, “really, I do.  But…it’s just…”

A forceful sigh leaves his lips, and his eyes fall back to the countertop.  This is really weird – and it’s actually starting to freak me out a little.  I’ve never, never seen Jungkook like this – usually, even when he’s just been dumped, he closes in on himself for a few days. During those times he hardly ever says anything until he’s ready to talk about what happened.  But he never, never flat out refuses to tell me what’s bothering him.

As my concern for my best friend grows, I decide to take a different approach.

“Are you just not ready to talk yet?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.  “If that’s it, then that’s cool.  We can just hang out for a while – watch something else if you want. I don’t care.  You’re just…  You’re really freaking me out here, Kookie.”

I get my answer when Jungkook stands, comes around the breakfast bar, and swallows me in a tight hug.  I waste no time hugging him back, and my eyes close as I hear his breath hitch in his chest.  The tears are coming back.  I’m just about to say something else when Jungkook beats me to the punch.

“Thank you,” he muffles into my sweatshirt, sniffing a little.

He pulls back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his black hoodie.

“You can, um, go to bed…if you want,” he mumbles.  “I can just crash on the couch.”

“Are you sure?” I ask gently, taking a tentative step forward.  “You sure you don’t want a cuddle buddy or anything?  You know I’m okay with that…”

Jungkook shakes his head and forces a weak smile onto his face, but his eyes stay murky and dark. I nod, turning to head for my bedroom. I feel bad for just leaving him alone like this…but if it’s what he wants, then I guess that’s his choice. Man, I can’t wait for this to blow over so I can find out what actually happened to mess him up so badly.  Call me calloused if you want, but at this point, I’m beyond curious to know…well, everything.

I take my time getting ready for bed – and I won’t lie, my conscience is needling me to go back to the living room and force Jungkook to either let me stay on the couch with him or drag him back to my room and make him sleep in there.  I’m not necessarily scared to leave him alone – I just feel like an awful friend for not pushing harder when I know he’s probably not in a terribly stable state of mind.  In fact, I feel so bad about it that, after only twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, I sit up.

Fuck this, I think as I toss my blankets aside.

The living room is dark and still when I open my door – and I mean, really, what was I expecting? Jungkook said he was going to go to sleep on the couch.  Still, though, I slowly inch forward.  There’s just enough light from the streetlights outside for me to navigate around my furniture, and I notice a human-shaped lump on my couch as I approach.

Hmm.  I guess he really meant what he said.  Well…now I feel stupid for even coming out here.  I was worried for nothing.  Oh, well.  Better to satisfy my curiosity and wandering mind than lay in bed for the remaining hours until sunrise and wonder.  All right, well, back to bed—

“Oh…god.”

The utterance is soft, but in the absence of all other ambient sound in the room, it sounds startlingly loud. I jump in place and turn to see Jungkook half propped up on the couch, his eyes wide and fixated on me.  It’s now I remember what I’m wearing – or rather, not wearing.  Pants.  I chose to sleep in just an oversized t-shirt and panties tonight, more out of laziness than anything else.  It’s laundry day tomorrow – cut me a break.

My cheeks immediately start to heat up as I realize the predicament I’m in – which is weird, because throughout all the years of our friendship, Jungkook has never cared about this kind of shit.  It’s always been, “eh, sure, run around half-naked – I don’t give a fuck”.  That kind of mutual attitude is the reason why I know beyond a shadow of a doubt how amazingly ripped my best friend is.  He’s walked around in my dorm room in just boxers before due to an accident involving a large soda and an unsteady table. Yeah, that was a fun day.

“Oh, uh, s-sorry,” I stammer, turning frantically to run for my bedroom – and almost immediately banging my shin into the edge of my coffee table.  “Oh, god!  Ow!”

I fall to my knees, clutching my sore leg and squeezing my eyes shut against the pain – which is why I don’t notice when Jungkook joins me on the floor.

“That sounded pretty bad,” he says from right beside me, making me jump again.  “I heard that thunk – you’ll definitely have a bruise tomorrow.”

There’s a pause as he turns on the flashlight on his phone and sets it aside so it doesn’t blind us, and then, “Why are you still awake?”

“Why are you still awake?” I repeat back.  “I would’ve thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“I was getting there. I was actually just starting to doze off when I heard your door open.  After a few minutes of not hearing anything, I decided to roll over and see what was up, but when I did…well…”

Jungkook gestures to my entirely exposed legs before sheepishly locking his eyes on the floor.  Well, shit.  I’m the one that stopped him from going to sleep.  Now I feel like an even worse friend than before.

“Oh, sorry…about that,” I mumble, surreptitiously trying to pull my t-shirt down to cover my legs.

“What’s your excuse?” Jungkook asks.

“I, uh, couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t help feeling awful for just leaving you alone like this, so I finally gave up and came out to see if you were really okay.”

A tiny smile crosses Jungkook’s face as he looks back up at me, and this time his eyes look…different from before.  Before they were heavy and black, swirling with pent up emotion that needed to be released.  But now they’re…I don’t know, lighter?  Brighter? Happier?

The silence stretches on, our gazes locked on one another.  It’s now that I notice a definite shift in atmosphere surrounding the two of us. Jungkook starts to scoot closer to me, and I begin to internally panic as he reaches for my hand – the one that’s still holding the sore spot from a few minutes ago.  Softly, tenderly, he begins to pull my fingers away from my leg, and before I can say anything, he leans in and places a featherlight kiss on my shin.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers so softly I almost miss it.

Okay.  This has taken a turn I was not expecting.  Not that I’m complaining – far from it, in fact.  But there’s no denying that this is a little weird, especially coming from Jungkook of all people.  I mean, this is the guy that used to ruffle my hair and chase me around the park with dead bugs that he’d found and wanted to make me touch.  This is the guy that used to brag about being able to drink any of his buddies under the table, even challenging his roommates to prove him wrong. That guy…that guy is the one holding my hand and kissing my leg because I hurt myself on accident.  That guy is the one cradling my face in his hands, tenderly brushing his thumb over my cheekbone.  That guy is the one leaning in to kiss me…

It’s not a very long or involved kiss – more like just a firm peck on my lips – but somehow it feels like so much more.  We sit in silence after Jungkook pulls away, and he leans his forehead against mine, his eyes closed.  I think he must expect me to push him away or something, because he doesn’t move for several minutes.  Meanwhile, all I can do is blink and try to convince myself that I’m not dreaming – that really just happened.  What the actual fuck—

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook mutters, still not opening his eyes, “but I couldn’t hold back anymore.  I’ve wanted to do that for…oh, god, so long. You have no idea.”

“W-why?” I finally squeeze out.

Jungkook’s eyes open and our gazes lock once more.

“Because…” he sighs, “I… Well, I might as well say it.  I love you, Y/N, so much.  I don’t know exactly when it started, but what I do know is…I’m crazy about you.  That’s what I couldn’t tell you earlier.  I was too—”

“No,” I cut him off.

Jungkook’s brow furrows and his expression falters.

“No?  No what?”

“Why…are you sorry?”

That question seems to stump Jungkook, and we sit in silence yet again, but now my head is beginning to clear.  I’m starting to wrap my brain around what’s been happening these last few hours…and why Jungkook was so startled to see me in only a t-shirt and underwear.  He cares now because he doesn’t see me as just a friend anymore.  The days of him chasing me around and laughing at my cheesy teenage attempts to be sexy are gone – and now it’s time for a change.

I feel my mouth stretch into a smile as I close the distance between us, stopping millimeters above Jungkook’s lips.

“If you’re gonna kiss me,” I whisper, “at least do it right.”

There’s a half-second pause where I see Jungkook’s eyes light up, and I realize I just gave him the permission he was secretly asking for – and I’m totally okay with that.  He practically pounces on me then, his fingers threading into my hair, his lips hot and heavy on mine.  It doesn’t take long for him to slip his tongue into my mouth, and I can’t contain the moan that slips from the back of my throat.

Jungkook pulls away long enough for us to breathe and whispers against my kiss-bitten lips, “Well, I guess my secret’s out.  It’s your choice though whether or not this goes anywhere.”

I’m panting heavily at this point, and my head is foggy with overwhelming arousal.  I never realized before how amazingly sexy Jungkook is…but damn, if I’d known he was this good of a kisser, I would’ve been on top of that shit a long time ago.  As to Jungkook’s assertion regarding my choice in the matter – hell, I’d be the biggest idiot in the known universe if I passed up an opportunity like this.  I know already what I want as I pull Jungkook to his feet alongside me.

Stretching up on tiptoe, I whisper, “What if you don’t like my choice?”

There’s a dark glint in Jungkook’s eyes as he gazes hungrily back at me and smirks.

“Somehow,” he says, eyes fixed on my lips, “I don’t think there’s much of a chance of that happening.”

I smile and slide my hands down his firm chest, looping my arms around his waist.  With a quirk of an eyebrow, I slip both hands into the back pockets of Jungkook’s jeans, and I relish the feeling and sound of his breath catching in his throat.

Letting out a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl, Jungkook leans down and whispers, “You keep that up, and I’ll make sure you don’t cum first.”

“Oh, really?  Well, we’ll see about that,” I punctuate my statement with a slight squeeze to Jungkook’s ass, “now won’t we?”

[jd-btsobsessed]

How Much I Am

A/N: Well...here we are.  This one is super personal to me, so bear that in mind when you read it.  This isn’t necessarily about depression - since I don’t really think what I deal with is depression (like maybe in a really broad sense, but I don’t know) - but I have experienced this type of thing before.  I do go through times when I feel worthless and lonely and very very alone in my life - and as I’ve said before, when I’m dealing with something, I write about it.  So here you go.  Also, this was semi-inspired by this ASMR video that I love.

friend!AU

Pairing: Jimin/Reader

Synopsis: Sometimes life is hard.  We all deal with it differently...but sometimes we need someone to help pull us out of the mire and make us see that life isn’t all bad.

Rating: light PG-13 (I don’t know, guys, this deals with some dark stuff)

Word Count: 787

Nights are always the hardest.  Nights are when I feel it the most – that creeping lingering feeling that I’m not good enough, I’m not pretty enough, I’m not smart enough – that feeling that I’m just…not.  Nights are when all my nightmares come calling – all the mistakes I’ve made, all the ways I’ve messed up that I can’t fix.  All the times that I’ve been reminded of how much I’m…not.

It’s amazing how one little word can do so much damage.

It’s 2:30 in the morning when I pick up my phone.  The suffocating feelings have made their presence known, pressing down on me with full force.  So I do the only thing I can do.  I dial. I dial his number.

“Y/N?” his voice is croaky and thick with sleep.

That’s all it takes for the tears to spill over, falling with intense heat down my cheeks faster than I can wipe them away.  I can’t speak for a good minute or so.  I can only make rough hiccupping noises that approximate words into the phone.

“Y/N?” he sounds more awake now.  “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

I manage to gather my faculties enough to squeeze out, “Please…I need…I can’t…”

I hear him mutter something about fifteen minutes and then he hangs up, and I collapse on my living room floor.  My whole body is shaking as I sob uncontrollably.  I hate this.  I hate everything about this.  I hate…myself.

Sometime later I hear the ring of the doorbell followed by insistent knocking on my front door. I pick myself up long enough to stumble over and unlock it, barely turning the knob before dropping to the floor like the pathetic woman I am right now.

Jimin pushes open the door and, upon seeing my horrific state, immediately drops to his knees and wraps me in a tight hug.  It’s then that everything in me just…lets go.  I bury my face in his shoulder, using his hoodie to muffle my wails as my fists clench around the material.

“Shhh,” he croons, stroking my hair gently.  “It’s okay. I’m here now.  It’s all gonna be okay.”

His words invade the darkness in my mind, finally allowing me to calm down somewhat.  My wails taper off into tiny whimpers, and soon we sit in silence, neither of us willing to move lest we ruin the moment. But eventually he turns toward me and places a gentle kiss on my temple.

“Can you stand?” he whispers, not because he intends to leave or withdraw himself from me, but because he wants to know I’m strong enough before we move.

I nod shallowly into his shoulder, and slowly he hoists me up as he gets his feet back under him, never once loosening his grip around me.  I’m grateful for that, because I think even with his close proximity I might still dissolve again if he lets go.

“Come on,” he murmurs as he walks me back toward my bedroom, slowly, carefully, even catching me when I trip over my own feet.

I am incapable of speech at this point – but even if I could talk, I wouldn’t know what to say. The imposing presence in my mind is debilitating, sapping up all my energy.  I can’t really think right now, let alone form a coherent sentence.  Yet, through all of it, I’m never uncomfortable in the silence.  Jimin knows well enough by now that when I’m in such a dark and exhausting place mentally, the last thing I need is conversation.  What I truly need – what I crave – is a feeling of belonging, which he is more than happy to provide.

Jimin sits me down on my bed, allowing me to get comfortable before gently tucking my blanket around me.  He then rounds the other side and crawls in with me, immediately swallowing me in an even tighter hug than before.

“There,” he whispers, softly rubbing my back.  “You’re gonna be okay.  And even if you’re not…I’m not going anywhere.”

He always says that. A tiny smile crosses my lips for the first time in days.  I nestle into the crook of his arm, and I can feel sleep enveloping me.  For the first time in weeks, I drop off into a peaceful rest, devoid of any nightmares or lingering dread that usually arrive as soon as my eyes are closed.

Every time…it doesn’t matter how bad the feelings get – how strongly they bear down on me or how swiftly they try to drown me in despair…Jimin is always there.  And every time…every time I’m reminded of how much I’m not…he always shows up to remind me how much he cares.

He always comes to remind me of how much I am.

[jd-btsobsessed]

A Change of Plans

A/N: All right, this one’s a little saucier - and shorter - than the last one (at least in my mind...maybe not, the last one was pretty saucy), but this one has a little bit more of a personal side to it.  I’ve always struggled with body confidence issues, so why not write about it?  It’s a common issue, but still one that is tough to overcome, and whenever I have a problem to deal with or something I’m thinking about a lot...I write.  So here you go.

college!AU

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader

Synopsis: You’ve been dating Yoongi for a little while now, but you still aren’t absolutely convinced he’s totally into you - mostly due to the fact that the two of you still haven’t hooked up yet.  What if he doesn’t really want you as much as you want him?

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1.8K

Oh, my god.  I should never have listened to my roommate.

“You look fabulous,” she’d said, embracing me and all but shoving me out the door of our room.

I glance down at my dress and press my legs harder together.  I’m not ready for this level of…showmanship, shall we say.  This dress is so short…and tight…and on top of that…it’s red.  And I don’t mean like a nice muted scarlet or a gorgeous soft maroon – it’s bright fucking red.  Like a “Hey, everybody, look at me!” kind of red.

This was all my roommate’s idea.  She and I are decently close friends, but she’s never really seemed to…believe me when it comes to my…issues.  Confidence isn’t exactly up there on my list of qualities to show off.

I don’t know why. I’ve never been particularly overweight, but I just…don’t have that great of a body.  I’ve got some lumps and bumps and curves in the wrong places – if you know what I mean – and I just don’t like skintight clothes that much. Okay, I hate them, but that’s beside the point.

I take a few tentative steps down the hall, nearly faceplanting more than once.  I told her I didn’t want to wear these heels.  Four inches is way too high for me – and it’s not like I’m short.  I could’ve worn flats and been just fine…but no.  She wanted me to wear the heels.

“They’re sexier,” she’d said.

Right.

I glance at my reflection as I pass the big window at the end of the hallway.  God, you can see all the way down the front of this dress. The cleavage on this thing is ridiculous.  That’s another thing my roommate wanted though.

“If you want to impress a guy,” she’d told me, “you gotta show off what you got.”

I don’t necessarily agree – especially because the guy I’m trying to impress is already, um… Well, we’re kind of a thing.  I don’t really know.  We’ve been dating for a few weeks now, but he’s never mentioned anything about making it official, and I’m not even sure if he wants to.  We still haven’t, you know, hooked up either, if that’s anything to go by. Granted, I’ve never seen him with another girl since we started going out, and I haven’t been flirting with anybody else, but that doesn’t mean we’re exclusive.

I approach the stairs and take a deep breath, preparing myself for the journey ahead.  This is gonna take a minute…or ten.  As I go to take the first step, I see a notification pop up on my phone.

Yoongi: hey I’m downstairs

Y/N: ok on my way

Just about an eternity later I finally reach the bottom step, and I swear I almost fell probably about six hundred times.  These heels are no joke.  I pause and look at myself using the windows in front of me, checking to make sure my hair still looks good and whatnot…yep, all good.  All right.  Let’s do this.

I turn the corner, hoping the front of confidence I’m trying to put up is strong enough to last at least a few minutes.  I spot the man of the hour leaning up against a wall on the other side of the dorm lobby gazing out the window – and he looks fine. Black pants, black button-down shirt – with the sleeves rolled up, mm-hmm – black hair smoothed over so his forehead is showing.  Hot damn.

I clear my throat softly to get his attention, and I see his face change when he sees me.

“Whoa,” he mutters, so soft I can barely hear.

“I could say the same about you,” I toss back, trying to disguise the quiver in my voice.

He seems completely speechless as his eyes pan up and down, up and down – and pause.  He’s never seen me in anything this revealing, so I’m not surprised at his reaction.  I watch the internal struggle on his face as he pulls his eyes back up to meet mine.

“Goddamn,” he says in a much lower and huskier tone than before.

I can feel the urge to hide rising in my head as I subconsciously lower my hands and start tugging on the hemline.  I’m not even sure I’m comfortable enough to go outside in this, let alone accompany Yoongi to the bar we’re supposed to go to.  I can feel my false confidence disappearing by the second as I watch him undress me with his eyes.

“Um,” I mumble, still tugging at the dress, “I just realized I forgot something.  I’ll be right back.”

I have to get out of this dress.  I don’t care how much begging it takes to get my roommate to let me change.  This isn’t going to work.

My heart is racing as I climb the stairs again as fast as my ridiculous footwear will allow.  Man, I raced out so quickly I didn’t even give Yoongi a chance to respond.  I hope he can understand.  He should understand…right?

But just as I step off the final stair and into my hallway, I feel a hand grab my wrist and gently tug.  I turn and – surprise, surprise – Yoongi is looking back at me with a look I’ve never seen on him before.  His eyes are so intense I almost can’t handle it.

“There is absolutely no way,” he pants in a low voice, “I’m letting you go back in that dorm room right now.”

Damn it, he figured it out.

“Why?” I say quietly, trying my hardest to act innocent.

“Because…”

He pauses for a moment.

“You’ll take the dress off.  And while I do want that to happen,” he tugs on my wrist a little and closes the space between us, “I want it to happen in a dark room with just the two of us…and I want to be the one to take it off of you.”

He’s practically purring into my ear as he says that.  My heart is absolutely racing now.  I certainly wasn’t ready for this – nor was I expecting this outfit to have this effect on Yoongi.  My eyes are wide and I’m struggling to keep breathing.  This man is intoxicating, and it’s hard to deal with.

As he backs me up against the wall right by the stairs, I’m grateful the dorm is mostly empty tonight. I’m really the only one still here that isn’t either studying frantically or passed out asleep, which is good because this seems like a moment that shouldn’t be interrupted.  I feel Yoongi’s slender hands gently squeezing my waist, pulling me closer into him.  His hot breath on my neck is giving me goosebumps – this is definitely a new experience for me.

Damn.  If I had known he’d react like this…

Any coherent thought I had in my head disappears once I feel tongue on my neck.  The pressure pushing me into the wall behind me is growing stronger – and if the obvious bulge in his pants is anything to go by, Yoongi seems to be getting a little desperate.  His self-control is incredible though – he’s settled for only kissing instead of trying to leave any sort of mark, though I’m pretty sure if I gave him permission he’d gladly do just that.

But there’s always a tipping point to these things.  And that point is the first time I feel Yoongi grind his hips into mine, and I feel a spike of heat surging to my core.  The neck kisses stop immediately after that, and he pulls away just enough to look me in the eyes.

“I think we need to go,” he rasps in a voice just barely above a whisper.  “I don’t think I can hold off much longer.”

“Okay,” I nod, thoughts hazy and swimming with lust.

Neither of us move for a few seconds, and part of me thinks Yoongi might be scared to move at all. But he does pull away, grabbing my wrist again and pulling me behind him as he hurries downstairs.  At this point, I don’t care about my shoes – I reach down and yank them off, and I want to just leave them in the stairwell, but a voice stops me.

“Keep them,” Yoongi says in a commanding tone.

I don’t question him; instead I tuck the heels under one arm and try not to trip down the stairs as I follow Yoongi.  I want to tell him to slow down, but something tells me he wouldn’t listen – he’s too focused on his objective.

Once we reach the bottom, Yoongi spins around and pins me to the wall again, this time going straight for my lips.  His hands are roaming now, from my waist to my hips down to my ass, squeezing as they go. His kisses are hungry – he seems just barely able to keep control of himself.

“We should definitely go,” he moans between kisses.  “Please…unless you want me to bend you over and take you right here.”

My eyes go wide at that – while that’s not a plan that seems particularly attractive to me, there is something exhilarating about the idea of doing it in such a risky place like this.  But before I can answer, Yoongi dives back in, devouring my lips with a newfound intensity that takes my breath away.  Before I can fully respond to him, I feel his lips moving down my jaw and back to my neck again.

“My god, you taste good,” he murmurs, laving his tongue over my pulse point.  “Hmm.  We gotta go.”

With that, Yoongi takes my wrist again and pulls me hard and fast out the door and towards his car. I’m definitely a little hot under the collar by now – or I would be if this dress had anything resembling a collar. I’m sure my cheeks are flushed, and I keep having to press my thighs together when I’m not struggling to keep up with my date.

As soon as the passenger door is unlocked I yank it open and half-throw myself inside.  I’m totally on board with wherever Yoongi wants to go at this point.  I just know, I need some relief.  The heat between my legs is killing me.

There’s a brief pause once both of us are inside the vehicle.  Yoongi looks at me, his eyes burning.  His mouth hangs open as he labors to breathe.  Finally he speaks.

“Do you want to,” he tries to start, “um…  Do you want to, like, go somewhere?  I’d say let’s go back to my place, but if you aren’t comfortable with that—”

I silence him with another kiss.

“Do you have Netflix and access to pizza?” I ask quietly, running my finger down his neck.  “You know, for afters.”

“Y-yeah.”

I press my lips to the shell of his ear.

“Then why are we still here?”

[jd-btsobsessed]

Uncomfortable

A/N: This is my first post of any kind of fanfic, but I want you to know that I worked long and hard on this.  I don’t believe it’s perfect, but hey...my writing has come a long way since the early days (oh, god, the shame), so I’m still proud of this particular fic.

best-friends!AU, roommates!AU, friends-to-lovers!AU

Pairing: Jimin/Reader

Synopsis: Being roommates with Jimin is a pretty sweet setup - pizza and Netflix whenever you want it and you always have a good friend to hang out with.  But what if he wants more than that?

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4.2K

It’s 9:30 when the door finally opens into my living room – a half hour later than he said he’d be.

“Finally,” I half snort as I stand up and take a pizza box off the top of the stack, leaving Jimin to carry the other two.  “You know, when you say you’re going to be here—”

“I know, I know,” my roommate grunts as he sets the other two pizzas down in the kitchen.  “Look, when there’s a line, there’s a line. There was nothing I could do about it, okay?”

He sounds frustrated enough that I believe him – not that I’ve ever had much reason to doubt him in the first place.  Jimin’s always been a good guy, and an even better roommate.  Ever since the two of us moved in together – something our other friends were slightly skeptical about when I brought it up to them the first time – he’s always pulled his weight around here, and then some.  I think I expected him to be messy just like most college-aged boys, but he isn’t – or at least, not here.  He doesn’t leave garbage all over the place, or let dishes pile up in the sink. He always takes out the trash whenever I ask him to – which is just about every week; blame my work schedule – and he goes out at all hours of the night to get us pizza.

“Do you have Netflix ready?” he calls, entering the living room with two big bottles of soda. “I’m in serious need of a Disney marathon right now.”

I point to the TV with the Netflix screen already pulled up, and Jimin nods.  That’s another thing about him that makes us great roommates – we like the same movies.  Setting the soda down, he turns and raises an eyebrow.

“Um,” he mutters, “are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He points toward my tank top and tiny sleeping shorts that I’m curled up in on the couch. It isn’t too different from my normal sleeping attire, but I maybe could’ve worn something a little less…revealing.  I mean, we’re just friends, but as I look on I see a shadow of something pass quickly over Jimin’s face.

“Um, yeah,” I toss back. “Got a problem with it?”

“No, just…” he stops to clear his throat a little, “it’s kind of cool outside, and I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to be dressed for a day at the beach when the weather thinks it’s past due for another windstorm.”

Oh, that’s why.  I smile to myself as I watch my roommate duck back into the kitchen for a plate of pizza.  He truly is always looking out for me.  But, hey, don’t get the wrong idea, okay?  We are just friends.  Always have been, always will be.  Probably.

Okay, I won’t lie. I have dreamt about it.  I mean, come on.  You can’t seriously expect me to live with a man that looks like he does and not get distracted – beautiful model-esque features, gorgeous brown eyes, perfect skin, and oh, honey, is he built.  Like, damn.  Before I met Jimin I didn’t think I had a thing for thighs, but now…hot damn. You’d get a little distracted too. So, yes, I do find him attractive, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a perfectly normal friendship with him.

“What’s that look for?” Jimin interrupts my reverie as he drops down onto the couch next to me. “You look like a smitten teenager with that stupid smile on your face.”

I jump a little and glare at him.  How dare he call me out on this?  After all, I’m not in high school anymore.  If he’s going to cut right through my bullshit, he should at least call me a more accurate name.

“Shut up,” I mumble, then after a pause, “Yah!  Where’s mine?”

I gesture to the slice of pizza Jimin is in the process of taking a bite out of.

“Your legs aren’t broken,” he shoots back, talking around the food.  “Go get your own!”

“Jiminnie,” I whine, pawing at his arm like a dog begging for treats.  “Come on, go get me some.  I just got comfortable and I’m lazy.  Come on.”

There’s a pause, then a very dramatic sigh from Jimin as he tosses a glare toward me.  I know it’s a low blow, using my nickname for him.  I started calling him that soon after we moved in together, and I soon discovered that it always, always gets me what I want.  But hey, all’s fair in love and war.  Wait…

“Goddamn, seriously!” my roommate huffs as he half throws his plate onto the coffee table and hoists himself up from the couch.  “I’m tired too!  Jesus, Y/N, it’s like you…”

His grumbling continues as he goes to the kitchen, returning quickly with two large pieces of pepperoni pizza piled on a plate.  I smile sweetly as he foists the plate in my direction, his narrowed eyes and pursed lips giving away just how perturbed he is.  Luckily, I don’t care.  I have food, and that’s all that matters in this moment.  Call me shallow if you want, but hey, food never walks out on you when you least expect it.

Uh, oh, my damage is showing.  Nevermind, let’s move on.

“How do you always,” he starts, dropping back down onto the couch beside me, “always manage to convince me to do everything for you?”

I pause, slice of pizza halfway to my mouth, and contemplate my answer.  I’m not sure if he actually wants an answer, but I’ve got one nonetheless.

“Because you’re my bitch,” I say flippantly, immediately shoving the pizza into my mouth.

Again, not something that’s uncommon for me to say – okay, that specifically isn’t something I say…well, ever…but still… Comments like that are old news between the two of us.  It’s why we work so well as friends and roommates.  We can throw out little remarks like that and neither of us take them seriously.  We just let it roll off our backs and go on with our lives.

Or at least, that’s how it usually works.

This time I feel the air shift in the room.  I don’t know why, but for some reason I’m afraid to look up at Jimin.  I’m afraid of what I might see on his face – hurt? Disappointment?  Annoyance?  Regardless, I can feel in the tense silence of the room that perhaps I’ve crossed into territory I shouldn’t have.

I finish one of my slices of pizza and decide – against all better judgement – to chance a look up at Jimin.  So, being the casual and completely natural creature I am, I sink myself down into the couch, hoist my plate to right in front of my face – you know, as a barrier; pizza will protect me from anything – and slowly slide my gaze over to my friend…to find him staring right back at me.

Oh, dear.  Yep, I really shouldn’t have said that.  Oh, shit, what do I do now?  Obviously, play it cool, play it casual, but, uh, that’s going to be difficult with those eyes staring me down.  I can already feel my heartrate spiking, and despite what I’m wearing my cheeks feel hot.  And what’s worse is, he doesn’t look hurt or disappointed or annoyed.  He looks taken aback and slightly confused…and maybe a little turned on?

“What?” I mumble, trying desperately to stay calm – not an easy task, I assure you.

“Umm,” he croaks, swallowing thickly and diverting his eyes to the couch.  “I, um—”

Ah-ha!  So he is turned on.  He only gets flustered like this whenever he’s around a cute girl or somebody’s trying to chat him up.  But, wait a minute…  No, brain, come back.  Even if he does think I’m cute, that has no bearing on this situation.  Still – no harm in testing the waters, right?

“What’s the matter?” I croon, putting down my pizza and leaning toward Jimin.  “Am I making you…uncomfortable?”

To be fair, this is exactly the kind of thing our friends were concerned about when they first heard we were moving in together.  They actually pulled me aside and told me they would await the day I called and told them we had hooked up.  I, of course, was appalled…and slightly intrigued.  The fact that they thought I even had a chance with him was interesting to me…though I assured them I would never, ever attempt it.  But that was before I knew what I was truly up against.  God, I still remember that day.

Basically, the short version is, yes, I’ve seen him naked.  The long version is a little more complicated than that, but that’s the gist. Granted, it was quick – like, accidentally opening a door I shouldn’t have, quick – and I didn’t have time to properly register a lot of what I saw…but I still saw it, and let me just tell you, if I had legs and an ass like that, I’d be wearing skinny jeans every damn day of my life – which for the most part, Jimin does.  And now I understand why.

The closer I lean toward my friend, the more I realize, holy shit, I really want to touch him. And not in like a “just friends” kind of way.  More like in a “hey, you’re pretty and I really want you to do some filthy shit to me” kind of way.  And the more I think about it, the harder it is to keep myself from doing it.  So, you know what?  Fuck it.

I look on as my hand seems to move on its own toward Jimin’s face, and his eyes get wider and wider with each passing second.  I’m pretty sure he thinks this is totally out of nowhere…and I’m pretty sure after this he’s going to be scared to live with me.  But at the moment, I don’t care.  I’ve come this far, I’m not turning back now.

I can feel the boy’s breath hitch on contact as I move my hand up his jaw to rest just below his cheek. His skin is just as soft as it always looks, and my eyes definitely can’t pick a spot to focus on.  They dance all over his face, from his nose to his eyebrows to his full lips…and finally up to his eyes.  Hoo, boy, his eyes.  He looks like he’s about to eat me alive…and I won’t lie.  I want him to.

“You haven’t answered my question,” I whisper, now mere inches away from Jimin’s face.

“N-no,” he barely breathes, his body so tense he may as well be a statue.

Hmm, I’m not convinced. He definitely seems uncomfortable…but in the best way possible.  All it’d take at this point to push him over the edge is just a tiny nudge in the right direction.  But…I can’t do it.  I can’t bring myself to go any further.  I want to…oh, boy, do I want to.  But somehow that tiny amount of extra oomph just isn’t there.  I’ve just…frozen in time.

I can’t believe myself. How could I get this far – and already have risked losing one of my best friends on this earth – and chicken out now?  Seriously?

But I can’t move. I can feel my heart racing, beating double time against my ribcage.  My mouth is so dry my tongue feels like sandpaper, and I have to make a conscious effort to breathe at all.  I was not prepared for this.

We sit in a pregnant silence for a few minutes – the longest minutes of my life, mind you – and it occurs to me that one of us needs to do something.  Anything.  Just move.  Come on. I’m about to do just that, however, when Jimin decides it’s his turn to throw me for a loop.  Slowly – painfully slowly – and tenderly, his hand comes up from its place on his lap and rests on the side of my neck.  I’ve already followed this to its natural progression in my head, I assure you – and I’m fairly certain I’m about to go into heart failure over it.

With a slow half-lidded blink, my friend’s eyes flutter closed and he closes the remaining inches between our lips.  My eyes close on instinct, and all hell breaks loose in my brain.  I’m screaming internally, half of it rejoicing, the other half frantic confusion.  Why is he doing this?  Why? What does he get out of this?  And most importantly, why does it feel so good? God, doesn’t he realize how much I— Wait…  Why did he stop?

I crack my eyes open to see Jimin’s stunning eyes boring holes into me, not even an inch away from my face.  Automatically I try to back up a little – because, you know, personal space is a thing that I like – but the hand on my neck keeps me from doing so.

“What makes you think,” Jimin whispers, and I can feel his breath on my face, “that I’ll let you get away this time?”

This time?  This time?  What the hell?  

“What?” is all I can manage to squeeze out before he’s back to kissing me.

And it’s way more intense than before.  He wastes no time plying my lips with his, and when I feel the swipe of his tongue on the seam of my mouth I gladly open it.  This is like nothing else I’ve ever felt.  I mean, sure, I’ve made out with guys before – I’m not that lonely – but for some reason, this feels very different from any of those times.  This feels like there’s a lot of pent up emotion behind it – emotion that I probably should’ve known existed, but I guess…  I guess I just never paid any attention.

I don’t know.  It’s hard to think with Jimin’s tongue in my mouth. He seems desperate too.  By the time he pulls away, we’re both gasping for air, and I can feel the sting on my lips from where his teeth connected.  He doesn’t pull away very far though, staying close enough for me to still feel the heat from his lips on mine.

“What’s all this about?” I ask in a tiny voice, still too shaken to properly speak.

“You really don’t know?” Jimin whispers, eyes never leaving mine.  “I’m surprised no one’s ever said anything to you.”

“About what?”

“Seriously, how do you not know?  How obvious do I have to be?”

“Know what, Jimin?”

“That I’m stark raving mad about you.  That I’m crazy obsessed with you, and I genuinely don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t in my life.  That I feel the same way about you that you feel about pizza.”

At that last one I can’t help but smile.  I do love pizza.  But wait…

“How long has this been a thing?” I ask softly.

I’m pretty sure I already know the answer, but I want to hear it from his lips.  Lips that I desperately want to be kissing right now.

“Since right before we moved in together,” Jimin says, voice raw and cracking from the sheer intensity of his desire.  “I knew I was in too deep by then already, but when you talked about getting a place together you sounded so excited…  I couldn’t say no.  I knew it was only a matter of time before I couldn’t control myself anymore—”

Self-control is exactly the problem I’m struggling with at the moment, which is why I press my lips back to his.  I don’t want him to keep talking – it’s a waste of time and energy that he could be putting to better use.  So instead of listening to him ramble on about feelings that I know are mutual, I want to taste those lips again.  It’s intoxicating, really it is.  It’s a feeling of passion, of thirst and unrestrained longing that consumes me from the inside out, and I need to get closer.  I crawl toward Jimin and swing my leg over his lap, straddling him on the couch.  I can tell he wasn’t expecting that move, as he tenses up for a second before realizing what’s happening and relaxing into it again, connecting his tongue to mine. My breathing is getting heavier by the second, and if the feeling of something hard pressing into the heat between my legs is anything to go by, Jimin is experiencing the same rush that I am.

As things get more and more heated, I break away from Jimin’s full lips and trail my kisses down his jaw to his neck.  I want to taste more of him than just his lips, I realize.  I want to know what it feels like to dig my teeth into his skin and listen to him gasp.  I lave at the skin just below his ear, enjoying the gasping moans coming from deep within his chest.  Then, as I’m nursing the beginning of a deep purple bruise into his neck, a particularly loud moan comes ripping from the back of Jimin’s throat.  I pause.

Holy shit, I think.

I didn’t even know this boy was capable of making sounds like that – but, oh boy, do I want to hear more.  The sound sends a wave of heat directly between my legs, and I can feel the effects of my arousal.

“My turn,” Jimin growls – growls at me.

His chest is heaving as he pulls my hair back and begins attacking my neck.  This is a side of him I’ve never seen before – hell, I never even knew he had a side like this to him. Jimin has always been this adorable, sweet, loving guy that seemed to never really understand how hot he is and why women constantly stare at him wherever he goes.  Now I’m starting to think, maybe he has known all this time and was just waiting for the chance to prove it to me.

But, as is the way of things, something happens to pull me back to my senses, even though said senses are quite foggy at this point.  The second Jimin starts tonguing at the area around the strap of my tank top I’m pulled back to the reality of the situation.

“Wait, hold on,” I pant as I tap Jimin’s head, trying to get him off of me – easier said than done, let me tell you.

“What?” he gasps. “What’s wrong?  Is this too far?”

I can’t respond right away – my thoughts are racing at a thousand miles an hour.  Is this too far?  I don’t know, we both seem pretty into it.  But…we are roommates…and friends…

“Huh?” Jimin prompts, nuzzling my neck.  “We don’t have to do this…if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” I finally speak.  “Believe me – I want to.  But…”

“But?”

I stay silent for a minute or two, contemplating how to answer.

“You say you’re crazy about me—”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, how do I know that if we hook up, you won’t disappear tomorrow morning?  How do I know that you being crazy about me isn’t just in the ‘I want to bang you’ kind of way?  How do I know you won’t—”

Jimin silences me with another kiss, this one quick yet firm.

“I don’t think,” he utters, the sound low in his throat, “you understand what I mean.  This isn’t just a crush.  This isn’t just a ‘you’re hot and I want to fuck you so hard you can only scream my name’ thing.”

God, that last part. That’s hot.  I feel an involuntary shiver run down my spine at his words, and I don’t think it went unnoticed, since Jimin pauses in his proclamation.

“Although,” he whispers into the shell of my ear, sending more shivers down my spine, “you are hot.”

He leans back a bit and looks at me, a smile of mischief on his kiss-bitten lips.

“But that’s not what this is about,” he continues.  “This is about the fact that I can’t fathom a life without you.  This is about how I don’t know what to do with myself if I can’t see you, or talk to you, or be with you.  That week when you took off to visit your parents?  I was beside myself that week.  Just ask my friends.  They’ll tell you how annoying I was.”

A giggle bubbles up in my throat, and I can’t control the goofy smile that spreads across my face.

“Trust me, though,” Jimin’s voice is beginning to sound husky again, “I want you – no, I want you…so bad,” his hands slip down to my hips and squeeze to emphasize his words, “but if you’re uncomfortable with this in any way at all…I’ll wait.”

Those last two words sound like they take a great deal of effort to say, but I’m not surprised. That’s just who Jimin is. Regardless of everything else, he’s always been the kind of guy to put the feelings of others first – even if that means great discomfort for him.  And right now I can guarantee, he’s in great physical discomfort.

But as I sit there straddling my best friend’s lap, listening to his shaky breathing and feeling his fingertips digging into my hips and pulling at the hem of my shorts, I come to a decision – fuck it.  Literally.

“Like hell, you will,” I whisper, and I hold nothing back this time.

  “Oh, my god.”

Jimin’s voice is quiet and content in the silence of my bedroom.  I’m quite frankly surprised we even made it to my bedroom.  But I really don’t fancy the idea of cleaning up after a night on the couch, if you feel me. Plus, having other friends over and letting them sit on that couch…ick.

“Is that a good ‘oh, my god’,” I ask playfully, “or a bad one?”

I don’t need to ask. I can tell from the tone of his voice – spent but hazily satisfied – that it’s a good one.

“What do you think?”

Jimin reaches over and pulls me closer under the blanket, his hand coming to rest in the curve of my waist right above my hip.  He stares at me for a bit before smiling slowly and placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Whose idea was this again?” he mumbles, the smile still evident in his voice.

“Hey, if you think I’m gonna take the blame for this,” I toss back at him, “you are sadly mistaken.”

“Blame?  Who said anything about blame?  The only thing I blame you for is letting our pizza get cold.”

Oh, yeah.  There’s that.  Still, I can’t pass up an opportunity to tease my best friend.  I halfheartedly slap his naked chest and try to push away from him, but his arms are too strong.  I’m not going anywhere – and that makes me happier than I could possibly express.

“Yah,” he mutters. “You stay put.  If you move too much I’ll make you pay for it.”

“Oh, yeah?  How?”

Before I can move or fight him off – but why would I ever want to do that? – Jimin places a big wet kiss on my half-open mouth.  I giggle, but as he starts to pull away my hand finds its way to the back of his neck, keeping him firmly in place as I kiss him.  I just can’t get enough of that taste.  It’s too good.

When I break away I look up in the dim light of the moon to see Jimin’s eyes have clouded over with lust again.  I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t what I was going for, though I’ll admit I wasn’t sure if he’d be up for a round two so soon after the, hmm, conclusion of round one.  I pull back enough to get a good look at his face, but he just yanks at my waist.

“Oh, nuh-uh,” he whispers, “you can’t just kiss me like that and then back away.  That’s not how this works, love.”

I go still at the use of the nickname.  I never knew it would sound so good coming from Jimin’s mouth, but it sends a whole new wave of arousal through me.  Jimin seems to pick up on the change in the room’s atmosphere, because he’s suddenly very tender, bringing a hand up to my face and cradling my cheek as he gazes into my eyes.

“You know that, right?” he says in a barely audible voice.  “That I love you?”

“Really?  Like, seriously?  You’re not just here to fuck my brains out and then ditch me?”

Jimin chuckles, then puts his lips to my ear.

“Fucking your brains out sounds amazing right about now.  But ditching you?  No, you’re stuck with me.”

I smile again, but the headiness of the moment is clouding my thoughts.

“That’s super romantic, you know,” I’m surprised I can still manage to be sarcastic at a time like this.

Jimin just smiles briefly, his lips already working their magic on my ear.  But as the ecstasy of the moment overcomes both of us, I barely hear one little phrase whispered to me – a phrase that completes me in a way I never thought was possible.  A phrase that makes me feel like the rest of the world doesn’t exist – here and now, it’s just the two of us.  It’s a phrase I didn’t know I was in such dire need of hearing until this very moment.

“I love you.”