In true Jimin fashion, it’s the first day of the semester and he’s running late.
Mega late, but what else is new.
Signing up for a 9:00 a.m. intro to sociology course just for the sake of satiating some bullshit core requirement may not have been his brightest idea, but c’est la vie. He’s got his morning tea, he still managed to comb down his rat’s nest, and he fully intends to make this Monday his bitch.
Seconds before the clock ticks to 9, Jimin grabs a seat at the very top of the lecture hall. Their professor begins her introductions with frightening punctuality and Jimin sighs in relief.
It takes him all of thirty seconds to notice the fact that there’s a tall glass of water seated to his left and suddenly, the line-by-line readthrough of the syllabus going on down front doesn’t seem so interesting.
“Hate to be this guy,” Jimin whispers, leaning into his handsome neighbor’s space and absolutely not hating to be this guy at all. “but, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra pencil, would you?” He smiles a soft little thing, finally locking eyes with the stranger and laying the charm on thick. “Mechanical or otherwise, I’m not picky.”
“Oh, of course!” The lovely stranger whisper-shouts, ducking down beneath the table in a flash, rooting through his backpack before popping back up in victory, cute little pink pencil in hand. “Here!” He offers, like it’s his greatest honor to present the thing to Jimin.
“My hero.” Jimin croons, only half teasing. “They’ll sing songs of your brave sacrifice.” He takes note of the Jigglypuff-shaped eraser and feels his heart grow three sizes bigger in his chest.
“Oh my gosh, stop.” The stranger giggles, tucking a chunk of long, wavy black hair behind his ear. Jimin spies the beginnings of a flush building on the boy’s cheeks and he simply can’t help himself.
He rests his elbow down on the table and leans in close, phasers set to kill. “I’m Jimin, and I promise I’ll bring this precious little guy back to you tomorrow, safe and sound.”
“Jeongguk, and I’m holding you to that.” He receives in return, and before he knows it, Jeongguk is sending him up to the stratosphere with the world’s sweetest, toothiest smile. It’s a Monday miracle.
It’s also a miracle that Jimin doesn’t pounce like a starved panther when Jeongguk sheds his puffy outercoat half an hour later, handing out free tickets to the gun show with evidently no regard for the way it’s driving his newest classmate feral.
Thank goodness Jimin woke up at 8:59 today.
“100 kilograms?! You can’t be serious!
“And you mean to tell me you did six full reps?”
“Yep.” Jeongguk pops his lips, nose scrunched up in mirth, equal parts bashful and smug. A potent combination.
“You poor thing, you must be so sore.” Jimin whines, eyebrows furled in and lips pouted out. He scooches his chair an unnecessary few inches closer to Jeongguk’s in a show of total nonchalance – something that has quickly become the norm for their biweekly lectures. It’s quite the feat if Jimin manages to stay on his socially-acceptable side of the table before their teacher finishes taking attendance. “If that’s actually true and you aren’t pulling hyung’s leg, you just might be the strongest person I’ve ever met, Jeonggukie.”
Batted eyelashes and unabashed compliments are clearly too much for him to handle, because Jeongguk’s deflating like a punctured balloon, curling in on himself and wiping absently at his nose with a nervous grin taking over his face. “Ah, hyung, don’t… That’s not – you’re silly.” He rambles. Any macho-man confidence he previously mustered up melts right out of him and it only serves to endear Jimin even further.
Really, the smirk painting Jimin’s face now is both lecherous and knowing, but Jeongguk is too busy blushing over the chubby hand that’s groping at his bicep to pay it any mind. He flexes his arm half-heartedly and crinkles his nose further at Jimin’s responding coo.
Their professor slams her textbook shut at the front of the room and with that, class is evidently dismissed. Jeongguk scuttles up out of his seat in a hurry, offering out a gentlemanly hand to Jimin who’s still draped over his own chair like a cat in the sun. Jimin grins brilliantly, eyes dripping honey, at the absolutely unnecessary gesture. “Strong and chivalrous – really sweeping me off my feet here, Jeonggukie.” He says, smooth as butter, watching in uncontained delight as Jeongguk bites his own lower lip to lasso in his 1000-watt smile.
“Technically, I think I’m helping you onto your feet, Jimin-hyung.” Jeongguk says as he takes Jimin’s hand in his own.
Jimin’s smile twitches almost imperceptibly once he stands. Students shuffle past them on their way to the door and their footsteps are loud, their mindless chatter even louder. It’s in that same loudness that Jimin acts – he throws himself into Jeongguk’s arms and sends them twirling, tangled up in an uncoordinated mess as Jeongguk desperately struggles to keep them balanced.
They stumble a few steps away from their table and come to halt with Jeongguk catching Jimin mid-dip, like some perfectly cliched tango finale. Their eyes lock and all is right and romantic in the world, until a giant lighting fixture falls from the ceiling and crashes down onto their table a meager few feet away.
Jeongguk pulls Jimin back up and crushes him against his chest when he jolts away from the noise, pretty brown eyes bugged out in fear as he stares at their flattened chairs and splintered table. Little static bolts fly out of the shattered fluorescent tubes and Jimin snuggles deeper into Jeongguk’s clavicle, a cat who very much got the cream.
“Looks like you swept me off my feet after all, wonder-boy.” He purrs, paying absolutely no mind to the damage that very nearly befell them.
Date number three being held at a frozen yogurt joint is nothing short of perfection, as far as Jimin’s concerned.
Plus, Jeongguk’s wearing a muscle tank with the arm holes cut down below his ribcage, so.
It’s a pretty damn good Friday, all in all.
He knows he’s ogling, quite blatantly at that, but he also knows beyond shadow of a doubt at this point that Jeongguk loves it. Behind all his tripped-over words and shy smiles, Jimin knows that Jeongguk secretly preens under the compliments, under the stares and the appreciation and the thirst.
They’re sharing a couch instead of sitting opposite one another because the magnets in their chests demand it, but that just makes it easier for Jimin to feed Jeongguk bites with all the exaggerated “ahhh”s and airplane sound effects he wants.
He’s getting ready to do just that, spoon poised and ready to crash into Jeongguk’s lovely little lips for the hundredth time, when a groan from the front counter interrupts them.
“Frick!” An agitated female voice cracks through the building, followed by a thump like someone dropped a phonebook.
Jeongguk’s head tracks the commotion like an owl, eyes locking onto the employee near the register who’s very clearly trying and failing to lug a huge crate back towards the freezer. She’s huffing and puffing and Jeongguk’s pouting along in sympathy because he is nothing if not the sweetest boy on earth, so Jimin encourages him along with a little “shoo” until he’s racing over to help.
She flushes and gestures wildly with her hands in exasperation, but eventually relents, accepting Jeongguk’s noble offer of carrying all six shipment deliveries into their storeroom.
Jimin considers this a win for everyone involved as he leans back in his seat, feet kicked up and yogurt melting on his tongue, enjoying the show. Jeongguk’s veins pop out along his forearms like crazy, drawing Jimin’s eye and refusing to let go. His long, slender fingers pinken up the longer they support the weight of the boxes, and Jimin idly wonders if he could suck on them for Second Dessert later tonight.
Even the way Jeongguk walks – his gait heavy and his shoulders thrown back, supporting the load evenly – is downright delectable.
But what really kills Jimin, what damn near brings him to his knees every time, is the contrast between Jeongguk’s Herculean physique and his sweet, sparkly eyes. Something about watching such a hunky boy lift crates as if they’re filled with cotton while his eyes twinkle like Christmas lights is just… enchanting.
Jimin licks a stray drop off the handle of his spoon. His yogurt’s all gone but his throat still aches, thirsty as ever.
Jeongguk finishes up with his good Samaritan work and skips back over to Jimin, adorably pleased with himself in a way that has Jimin wanting to pet his head and call him the goodest boy. He’s got a healthy flush from the exertion and he flops down on the couch next to Jimin, leaning in close and pecking him on the cheek out of nowhere.
He reels back immediately after, bashful and beautiful, like he can’t quite believe he kissed him, either. Jimin can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it – here he is spending half his time drooling over this boy’s triceps when he’s nothing more than an overgrown puppy, precious and playful and wholesome as all hell.
That’ll just make it all the juicier when Jeongguk finally puts those muscles to proper use.
They finish up the rest of their respective yogurt puddles and clean up after themselves before bidding a fond farewell to their new employee friend. Jeongguk scurries ahead to hold the door open, his gaze fond and his extended arm looking scrumptious as ever, but Jimin notices one last-minute delivery box that Jeongguk must have missed around the corner from the front door.
The worker apparently notices Jimin’s lingering because she’s quick to call out, “Ah, don’t worry about that last one! That’s gonna be one for the pallet-jack to lift later tonight, I’ll get to it eventually.” She excuses herself to one of the back rooms in a hurry, clearly still swamped with chores, and Jeongguk looks to Jimin expectantly.
He purses his lips, but stays behind. “You go ahead, cutie, start the car for me and pick something fun to listen to on the drive.” He chucks the keys to Jeongguk’s awaiting hand and grins at the way his forearm flexes as he catches the lanyard. “Oh, maybe the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack again? Get the blood pumping!”
Jeongguk laughs along with him and agrees without delay, heading out to the car with all the sweet naivety in the world.
Jimin joins him less than a minute later, sinking into the driver’s seat and petting Jeongguk across the chest for no good reason. “Indiana Jones?” He questions with a smile when he hears the music of choice, letting his hand move slower on each drag back and forth over Jeongguk’s pecs. “You want me to crash this car, is that it?”
“Hyung,” Jeongguk laughs. “buckle up for safety!” Jeongguk doesn’t even bother batting Jimin’s hand away, content with giggling at his hyung’s antics for however long it means, letting Jimin feel him up like a juicy piece of fruit he’s appraising in the middle of the grocery store.
“Yes, Jeongguk-ah.” Jimin relents, reaching for his seatbelt and sneaking a glance back into the yogurt joint.
He pulls out of the parking lot with a satisfied little smile, listening to Jeongguk emulate the orchestra instruments, while the kind young employee gawks at the seventh shipment crate that’s miraculously made its way into their storeroom, right where it belongs.
Kissing Jeongguk is exactly as phenomenal as Jimin had imagined it to be.
The boy’s a natural, to no one’s surprise. He takes charge when there’s a lull and lets Jimin have his way when he feels pushback. His lips are warm and thin but he’s insatiable, pulling Jimin in by the back of his head whenever he so much as fears that their kiss will end.
It’s endearing and maddening. The longer this little makeout session goes on, the more entangled they get, with Jeongguk’s limbs coiling around Jimin and locking him in tight. Jimin is considered a patient man by absolutely no one but he is doing his darndest right now to cool his jets – to swallow down the stifling urge he feels to yell at Jeongguk, to tell him he has total and complete permission to mold Jimin’s body into whatever position he wants, to pull his strings and spin him around like the marionette he wants to be, to be held and lifted and turned and maneuvered, to be Jeongguk’s plaything entirely.
Really, is it so much to ask for to be picked up and thrown around a little by the twunk of Jimin’s dreams? Jimin doesn’t think so.
Jeongguk licks along the seam of Jimin’s lips like a sweet little kitten and Jimin pulls back to crack his neck, so swift it’s almost frightening. “Might I offer you a glass of water, Jeonggukie?” He asks, nearly panting, tongue darting out to taste the leftovers of Jeongguk’s mouth lingering on his thick lips. “Hyung’s not being a very good host right now.”
A fair observation, considering the fact that they made it a whopping three steps into Jimin’s studio apartment before he was pulling out his hiking gear and climbing Jeongguk right there in the entryway. Their shoes are still on, car keys abandoned on the floor, and it’s nothing short of a miracle that they’ve even made it to the correct apartment.
Jeongguk, bless his heart, has zoned out mid-stare-down with Jimin’s shoe rack, his eyes black and glossy. “Water...” He murmurs to himself, trying the word out for size. Jimin gives himself a good mental pat on the back for reducing the sweet thing to dumbness after a few mere minutes of lip locking.
Wait ‘til he lets Jimin ride those tree trunks he’s got for thighs. Then he’ll have a reason to be stupefied.
Jimin clears his throat and shucks off his black boots with practiced grace. He saunters over towards his kitchen and calls out over his shoulder, casual as can be, “Yes, Jeonggukie, water. We can enjoy a couple nice cold glasses together like civilized folk…” He stops to lean his folded arms down on his countertop, smirking wickedly when he notices Jeongguk’s eyes raking along the dip of his spine and the curve of his ass. “Or, you can pick me up and kiss me so hard I melt right into this fake marble.” He pats one hand down on the counter for emphasis.
Truly a man possessed, Jeongguk is on him in an instant, tripping over his own ankles in his hurry to rid himself of his shoes and scurry over to the kitchen. “Hyung,” he whines right into Jimin’s mouth, crowding him up against the edge of the island like an overgrown puppy.
“Dealer’s choice.” Jimin whispers back, before he lets himself be engulfed entirely, lips blossoming open for Jeongguk while a hot giddiness glows bright in his chest.
Fortunately, Jeongguk seems to have taken Jimin’s casual recommendation to heart, because it only takes a second before his big hands are dragging their way down the backs of Jimin’s thighs and squeezing. He signals silently and Jimin follows, dumb with joy, jumping up and letting Jeongguk lift him the rest of the way to be seated on the counter.
Even that miniscule moment has blood rushing through Jimin’s veins, his entire body thrumming with adrenaline. Jeongguk is so good and so kind and so big.
And Jimin’s got him right where he wants him.
He cards the fingers of one hand through Jeongguk’s thick locks and keeps the other hand firmly grasping the edge of the island, anchoring himself as best he can before he does something stupid to jeopardize this perfect moment.
They’re both groaning into the kiss like porn stars and it should probably feel ridiculous but it’s electrifying, more than anything, being able to feel his own heady want so clearly reciprocated by Jeongguk like this.
Makes Jimin squeeze the counter that much harder, to keep from squeezing Jeongguk’s head.
“Hyung, oh my gosh.” Jeongguk breathes, resting his forehead against Jimin’s and nuzzling him slightly, almost subconsciously. “How are you real? Is this real?”
Jimin laughs at the sincerity in his voice, at the disbelief colored all over Jeongguk’s gorgeous face. “Keep picking me up, Jeonggukie, hold me, feel me with your own two hands and tell me if I’m real.” All subtlety has clearly been thrown to the wayside at this point but Jimin couldn’t give two shits. He just wants to be held and fucked, in that order and simultaneously.
To make his point even clearer, Jimin lets his hand slide down from Jeongguk’s scalp to grope and knead at the muscles along his trapezius, the balls of his shoulder, his triceps and biceps and everything in-between. He’s probably drooling and he absolutely does not care – he’s been taught to seize every opportunity that comes his way so seize he shall.
“My strong, strong Jeonggukie…” Jimin trails off, head cocked to the side and mouth open obscenely. “All for me.”
It’s apparently enough to have Jeongguk both blushing and spurred into action, because the next thing Jimin knows, he’s being thrown over a shoulder and carted off towards the general vicinity of his bedroom.
He stares down at Jeongguk’s firm little butt, hugged tight by his jeans, and nearly whoops in joy at the realization that he’s being carried.
Distantly, very very distantly, Jimin sets a mental reminder to call his local hardware store and ask about fixing the new hand-shaped dent in his kitchen counter.
“J-Jeongguk-ah, so good, so deep… Oh god.”
Jimin’s moans are, at this point, entirely pornographic. They’re bouncing off the walls and smacking Jeongguk upside the head, rattling around in his brain, fueling his hips to move that much faster. He is nothing if not a slave to Jimin’s will and right now he is doing his absolute damndest to keep from blowing his load because that would mean that he’d have to stop thrusting not long after, which would mean that Jimin would stop making those noises, and Jeongguk is simply not going to let that happen.
It’s round three and Jeongguk is tapping into every reserve possible, for strength and stamina and the overall will to go on.
He’s got Jimin up against the wall for the second time, death grip on Jimin’s hips and bullets of sweat running down his naked back. Three minutes ago he had Jimin on his back on the mattress, legs held up around Jeongguk’s waist, and he damn near blacked out with the way Jimin clenched and yelled in apparent joy.
Truth be told, every muscle in his body is starting to shake with exertion, like the chaotic end of a workout where he very obviously pushed himself too hard. It’s toeing the line of unsexy but he sees the way Jimin’s eyes glaze over, sees the way he bites his lip in glee, every damn time Jeongguk makes any sort of show of strength. Jeongguk is a pleaser and a giver, and right now his pathetic body is trying to crap out on him before he can finish giving this beautiful man everything his heart and ass desires, and that is simply unacceptable.
Jimin, in an impressive show of lucidity, must notice Jeongguk’s mounting exhaustion, because he taps at his bulging arms to signal for a break. Jeongguk’s hips come to a halt and the room comes back into focus for Jimin, fading back in through his peripherals.
Both of their breathing is loud and arrhythmic, but especially Jeongguk’s, who sounds like he’s bending the final lap of his first decathlon.
Even though his cock is positively aching where it’s smushed up against his core, Jimin tells himself to calm down and be a little bit less of a pillow princess. Jeongguk has done wonderfully – has fucked him to hell and back again in all manners of sinful positioning, and has catered to Jimin’s ridiculous strength kink with no complaint.
It’s his turn to sit back and enjoy.
Jimin hops down from Jeongguk’s hold and only spares a second to lament over the newfound emptiness before he’s pushing at Jeongguk’s solid chest, forcing him to walk backwards. Stunned into silence for the thousandth time, Jeongguk goes along without question, distracting Jimin with his pretty parted lips and his ridiculous, sweaty six-pack.
The backs of Jeongguk’s knees meet mattress and Jimin gives him an even more forceful push. He exhales a surprised “Hoof” and stares up at Jimin like he’s witnessing the second coming of Christ in the form of a sinfully handsome man climbing up and impaling himself on Jeongguk’s cock for the hundredth time in one evening.
He wants to scoot back a little, check in and make sure Jimin’s okay, maybe even just hold him a bit and keep reaffirming the fact that this is real and he’s really having the best sex imaginable, but just as the thought comes and his hands start to gravitate towards Jimin’s gyrating hips, his wrists are ensnared by Jimin’s own hands. In far less than the blink of an eye, Jimin’s got his arms planted down on either side of his head.
Just because he can and because curiosity killed the cat, Jeongguk tries to fight out of the grip, tries to wrestle his wrists free.
Over and over again, he pushes against Jimin’s hold but to no avail. It’s like vibranium cuffs have molded over him in place of Jimin’s adorable, chubby fingers, and Jeongguk doesn’t know how to feel about this.
He also doesn’t have long to bother worrying about it because Jimin starts slamming his hips down with a passion Jeongguk’s never seen before, and now that his muscles have been allowed to rest, he feels himself melting into putty beneath his hyung.
Jimin also seems none the wiser to the death grip he’s got on Jeongguk’s arms, because he’s clearly floating far above the atmosphere if his wanton expression is anything to go by.
Ah, well. Jeongguk really can’t complain when he’s receiving what absolutely has to be the ride of his life. Jimin could hold him prisoner here ‘til the end of time and Jeongguk would thank him for it.
“Experts are calling this the most dangerous monsoon season to hit in the last four decades.”
“That’s right, and everyone in the projected areas is strongly advised to evacuate before the storm arrives.”
The voices of the two reporters fade in and out of Jimin’s awareness. He’s close to purring, he’s so content – tucked up on his couch under a fuzzy blanket, naked as the day he was born, with the cutest boy that God ever built acting as his very own, personal body pillow.
He sighs in joy, his breath fanning out over the plane of Jeongguk’s chest, and he smiles even wider when Jeongguk follows suit and puffs out a satisfied sigh against the crown of Jimin’s head.
“Onto our crime segment – more eyewitness accounts have rolled in regarding the downtown fire from late last night.”
Jimin lets his eyes drift shut, and grumbles deep in his throat when Jeongguk shifts to get a better look at the tv.
“Police confirmed that the bank collapsed in just under seven minutes, but not a single casualty has been reported from the scene. Employees who had been trapped within the higher levels of the building all attest to similar stories of a miraculous rescue,” Footage of the fire must be rolling on the screen but Jimin burrows deeper into Jeongguk’s chest, rubbing his button nose along the dips and planes like he’ll be able to memorize it that way. “and all of them claim to have been pulled out by a masked man wearing red.”
Jeongguk lets out a little “woah” that goes straight to Jimin’s heart, while the reporters finish up the story. “Only one reel of CCTV from a convenience store across the street managed to capture this mysterious masked hero, but witnesses and police alike have unanimously identified the man in the footage we’re about to show as their miraculous savior.”
“Wow, hyung, look!” Jeongguk says, shaking Jimin by his shoulders gently and completely ignoring the displeased grumbles he gets in return. “We really do have a superhero on the loose! That’s nuts!”
Jimin peeks one eye open to catch what Jeongguk’s looking at. He smiles gently and closes both eyes once more, content with hibernating on top of Jeongguk for as long as he can. “That is nuts, Jeonggukie, you’re right.”
Thankfully, Jeongguk is a very accommodating human body pillow, and he forces himself to sink back into the couch dutifully. “You know…” He trails off, and Jimin hums to show he’s still conscious enough for conversation. “Back at the start of the semester, you said I was the strongest guy you ever met.”
A quick squeeze to Jeongguk’s forearm has him giggling, and Jimin smiles, proud.
He goes on, “Well, that guy is a real-life superhero. He carried men out of that building who weighed more than both of us combined, and they’re saying he did it all in, in like five minutes flat!” Jeongguk’s voice is dripping with admiration and he has no business sounding that young and adorable after he just fucked Jimin’s guts into a new dimension.
“Hm.” Jimin hums, wiggling around to get comfy. “That’s cool, I guess.”
“You guess?” Jeongguk squawks, indignant. “Jimin-hyung, my stupid squat records have nothing on this guy! People are calling him the Korean Steve Rogers!”
At this, Jimin opens his eyes once more, watching the last few seconds of grainy CCTV footage. “Huh.” The heroic man in question jumps down from a ledge on-screen and safely deposits a screaming woman down beside the first responders. “You think his ass is as dynamite as Steve Rogers’? They calling it Korea’s Ass?”
Jeongguk snorts and plants a wet kiss on Jimin’s forehead. “Call me corny but I think I know Korea’s Ass when I see it.” He drops one big hand down to rest on the curve of Jimin’s asscheek and they both laugh obnoxiously.
“Yeah, well,” Jimin agrees, his laughter fading to rumbly little giggles. “’s far as I’m concerned, your muscles are way more impressive, Jeonggukie.” He snuggles in closer, peppering kisses into Jeongguk’s neck. “Just my type.”
The footage on the tv ends with the cleanest shot of the hero yet, smiling towards the camera and biting his lower lip, looking proud and gorgeous in every way.
A carbon copy of that mysterious smile pushes itself against the juncture of Jeongguk’s neck and shoulder, its owner idly daydreaming about being carried to bed bridal style by the boy of his dreams.