Work Text:
There's a married man staring at Jimin on the subway.
Jimin's sitting right next to the steel rods extended up to the roof of the train compartment, and he has his fingers curled around it. He curses himself at first, because he realizes he was absently stroking the rod.
Oh dear. That must have been what caught the man's attention. Jimin's lip curls up in both disgust and amusement.
He stares back at the man. His gaze drops down to the gold band on his ring finger. The guy is absently turning it around his finger even as he checks Jimin out.
It looks like he wasn't expecting Jimin to catch him in the act and boldly meet his gaze. Panic flickers in his eyes at the sight of Jimin deliberately stroking the rod now, and he looks away.
The guy sitting next to the married man gets up, and claps him on the back.
"Catch ya later, Taehyungie," he says, grabbing his briefcase. "Get that spreadsheet to me by tonight."
Oh, a name.
Taehyungie.
Taehyung.
Jimin savours his name, lets his tongue kiss the syllables behind his teeth.
The man avoids his gaze now, a little pink in the face. He starts when Jimin stands up and plonks his ass down on the seat his colleague just vacated.
Married man, no, Taehyung, gets up like he's in danger of being electrocuted and bounds toward the sliding doors.
Jimin smirks.
It's not his first tumble in the sheets with a married closeted man.
Not by far. He loves it, is addicted to the thrill of married men panting after his ass like desperate dogs.
He keeps his lips pursed in a pout that gets steadily more and more frustrated because Taehyung is not looking at him, instead staring down at the floor of the train compartment, clutching the strap of his briefcase bag.
Such a delicately-featured man, with that dark hair.
Keep looking at me, Jimin internally rages at him. Look at me, only me. Crave me. Want me. Want me so bad you want to stuff me with your cock. Breed me.
Taehyung doesn't look at him anymore, clearly ashamed of himself for even looking and craving a little bit.
Jimin builds up a story in his head to entertain himself.
Taehyung is married. Possibly in his 30's by the looks of it. Unhappy salaried man, probably has a couple of kids and a woman who he has to pretend is a man whenever he can bring himself to fuck her.
That's the common story for all of these closeted losers. Jimin suspects his version is not too far from the truth. Taehyung probably just looks at young pretty men like Jimin on the subway on his way back home to his wife and children, and quietly jerks off in the shower.
He can see it, the fear. The man hasn't cheated yet. Not yet.
But he's close to reaching his breaking point. He's very close. He's not emboldened enough yet.
But oh, one day, he'll definitely break. And he'll cheat. He break his wife's heart thoroughly.
Who better than to debut his cheating streak with than the one and only Jimin?
Jimin's been regularly offering his ass up to married men since he hit 20. He doesn't have a conscience anymore about it.
Married cock? Best cock. Forbidden fruit tastes the best.
It doesn't matter anymore. Jimin needs sex now, now, now, right now. His hookup was an asshole who jilted him an hour ago. He isn't getting his ass split apart tonight. This guy, Taehyung, is his only chance at getting fucked.
He's getting desperate. Taehyung isn't biting Jimin's bait.
The train comes to a stop. The sliding doors open, and Taehyung bolts out. Jimin's breath comes out in a panicked gasp. He darts out of the compartment himself, unthinking, pushing past the crowd milling out.
Chungmuro. The stop is Chungmuro.
He dashed down the waiting area, trying to find a tall, slender man in a boring brown work-suit, with his equally boring briefcase bag.
His gaze is frantic, as he searches.
A beautiful man with dark hair.
He bounds up the stairs.
A married man.
He keeps searching.
Frustrated, angry whimpers leave his throat. In a moment of hysteria, Jimin places his palm over his chest, and screams out loud, as he bounds out Chungmuro Subway Station, feeling like he's losing his mind.
He's not getting fucked tonight.
What's wrong with him, huh? He's got an ass he worked for with squats, he's wearing his leggings, his pink crop top, his pierced navel is cute, his blonde hair is pretty. He looks fuckable. He knows Taehyung thought so as well.
What's wrong with him?
What's wrong with him?
♡
"You okay?" Jungkook, his younger cousin who he rents the apartment with, asks lazily, looking stoned out of his mind, sprawled out in bed.
How Jungkook gets the weed is a mystery.
Jungkook is nearly failing all of his university courses. Well, he would be failing but Jimin does Jungkook's assignments. He gets stoned and plays LoL all day, skips all of his classes, and Jimin lies to Jungkook's parents who live in Busan along with his own parents.
"Yeah," Jimin says, with a roll of his eyes, because he's okay. He's not like Jungkook. He's the okay one. He's got it all under control.
Jungkook raises a brow at him. Making a face at the dank smell in Jungkook's room, Jimin gets up on his cousin's bed.
"Roll me a joint," Jimin says. "I got a 70 on my last Motors assignment."
That makes Jungkook laugh, and he nods, slowly pulling himself up. Hunching over his bedside table, Jimin watches him take rolling paper out of his drawer and shake some weed out of his storage box.
"Did you submit my assignment too?" Jungkook asks.
Jimin snorts. "Yes, I did. Punk. You should really submit your own shit. I'm busy with my Master's, and this part-time job."
"No one asked you to do all of that. Our parents are helping out."
Jungkook is silent as he rolls up a joint for Jimin. He hums under his breath, and that relaxes Jimin, soothes the very corners and middle of his soul. His baby cousin has a lovely singing voice.
Jungkook doesn't want to be an engineer.
Jungkook wants to be a singer.
"Hyung," Jungkook says, handing it to him. "Are you calm? Because if you're not, this joint might agitate you. You're a grown man, you can do whatever you want. But the last time you had weed-paranoia, it was bad."
Jimin takes a few deep breaths to center himself.
"I'm fine," Jimin says, his voice curt. He takes a deep drag, and after a few minutes when it hits, it's a mercifully nice and calm high. He smiles, and Jungkook makes space so they can lie down next to each other, in Jungkook's dank-smelling mattress.
He forgets about the urge to get fucked, his bones and joints melting into butter, his fingers burying themselves in Jungkook's soft, dyed-brown strands. He giggles, and Jungkook giggles too.
"Hey," Jimin murmurs. "Sing me a song."
Jungkook makes a wounded sound.
"No," Jimin says. "None of that shit. Sing. Sing for me. Pick an old song. Pick something that your heart feels. Make me feel."
Sighing, Jungkook buries his face in Jimin's neck.
"Okay," Jungkook says. "Let me get my guitar."
Jimin claps his hands like a seal, excited and bubbling with happiness that spills out, like champagne trickling out of a bottle that has just been popped, like cum spurting out of his cock when a hookup jerks him off good.
Jungkook plugs in his electric guitar. Jimin pretends to hold a mic, as if he is introducing his cousin.
"Everyone," he says proudly to their imaginary audience, brandishing grandly at Jungkook who smiles, and laughs sheepishly. "It's the one and only JK!"
When Jungkook was 12, he ran away from home. He took the train to Busan, and secretly auditioned for entertainment companies. He had his songs prepared and his guitar and some dance routines all practiced. He called a worried-out-of-his-mind Jimin through a payphone.
"Don't worry," Jungkook said then, with a laugh. "I'm going to land at least one of them. You can tell them that."
In retrospect, Jimin should have kept his mouth shut. Or he should have lied through his teeth.
But he was freaking out. He told his parents the truth.
As luck would have it, all of Jungkook's auditions were unsuccessful. Jungkook's second payphone call to Jimin was filled with incoherent sobbing, sounding like a heartbroken child.
"I didn't make it," he said then. "I didn't make it, I wasn't good enough."
Jungkook came back home. Jimin didn't see him for at least two weeks. When they were finally allowed to meet, after two months, the guitar was nowhere to be found. The sheet music all gone. Instead of fire, there was dullness in Jungkook's eyes.
"I don't need music," he said.
Jungkook chooses to play 나 어떡해, and Jimin's eyes fill with tears, as he watches Jungkook play the starting chords of the old Sanullim track, adding his own flavours and adlibs to his impromptu cover.
Jimin records it because he always does that when Jungkook plays.
When Jungkook sings, he changes. His eyes shine, his voice becomes like caramel, and he's undoubtedly a superstar. He doesn't belong here in this bedroom, stuck doing a degree he can't even bear to study for.
He doesn't deserve to be stuck here with Jimin.
Jimin is Jungkook, and Jungkook is Jimin. Two halves of a traumatic whole. Too many secrets and memories between them. Too many bad things, too much sadness. Now Jungkook is chronically depressed, and Jimin,
Jimin is the okay one.
It both helps and grieves Jimin to be around Jungkook which is why he doesn't enter his cousin's bedroom unless strictly necessary.
Jungkook quiets his brain down, makes Jimin feel tender but Jungkook also makes Jimin feel awful.
Jungkook is the only person Jimin loves.
Love is both a burden and a blessing.
♡
It's been a week, and not a good one by far. Jimin's tired of his part-time job, and angry with tops who have the gall to lie about their cock size.
He hates tops who lie.
Jimin is not here for average size. He means it.
He knows they all fucking lie about their size, catfishing online on their profiles. Every single top is like that, a fucking liar.
"You said," Jimin says, hands on his hips, breathing harshly. "You said you had a big cock."
The guy sits on the motel bed, stunned.
He's still dressed in his work clothes, his boring black suit, and equally boring white dress shirt and unbuttoned black slacks.
Jimin's lips curl in revulsion at the sight of his small cock.
This is not what he cleaned his ass out for and wasted cab fare on.
He was promised big cock. Monster cock. He was promised by this lying top that his ass was going to feel the effects of this scheduled pounding the next morning. That Jimin would come crawling back to his married ass for more.
Sure. What the fuck?
"Baby, I can—I can still fuck you so well," says the guy, desperately reaching out him.
Jimin swats his arm away, incensed. "You said your cock was big," he screams, grabbing frustrated fistfuls of his hair. "I don't care how well you fuck, I came for big cock. Fuck you."
Jimin grabs his stuff, his backpack and peacoat, slamming the door to that room shut. He furiously blocks the man on the site and makes a note of this top so he can warn other size queens he's on friendly chatting terms with. They have a red flag system for lying tops.
He's mentally dying, this means he won't get fucked today. Panic settles slowly under his skin, he can't forego sex. He needs a top, now, but it's fucking 9:30 PM and everyone usually secures their hookups by now.
Jimin can't do this. He needs a top, and he needs one Now.
He's spiralling, even as he gets into the subway. He tries to listen to one of Jungkook's recordings, but it doesn't make his head go quiet. His fists clench, white-knuckled, and Jimin is ready to punch one of the windows of the train compartment.
Sex. He needs sex. Badly.
He doesn't deserve to exist in this moment, he doesn't deserve to listen to Jungkook sounding like an angel on his cellphone. He needs to offer his ass up to someone. He stares around the subway compartment, sizing up the people here.
There's an old man, reading a newspaper. Jimin licks his lips, desperately willing. Maybe the old man can get it up for him. Jimin, Jimin's got a fantastic, plump, perky ass. He'll definitely get it up once he sees Jimin's parted asscheeks, Jimin's sexy little body bent over.
Feeling Jimin's gaze on him, the old man slowly looks up. Jimin flashes him his best seductive gaze, hooded and sensual. He licks his lips again and quirks a single brow.
You down, old geezer?
You down to bust in my ass?
You don't even have to wear a condom.
Fuck me.
His heart sinks when instead of showing some very gay interest, the old man looks repulsed and visibly shudders, hurriedly looking back down at his newspaper.
Oh shit, he's straight.
Fuck.
This is bad. There's a beautiful woman, she's dressed up in a coral pantsuit and her hair is very shiny and pretty. She's wearing red lipstick, and she's frowning at her laptop.
Dimly, Jimin realizes he ought to feel some amount of shame over the way he's acting.
He doesn't want to be with a woman, sexually or romantically. But Jimin is so desperate, he begins to consider her too. She looks like she might be up for bossing him around. She looks like she might be into stepping on his cock.
Yeah, he could do this. He can try.
He wonders how women like to be flirted with as he begins trying with her, feeling decidedly unhinged.
She looks up, and catches on, looking flattered by his attention.
Jimin licks his mouth, and yeah, oh yeah, she likes that. She definitely likes that.
He goes home with her that night and tops for the first time in his life.
He's honest though.
"Hi, I'm Jimin," he says, pinning her to the wall of her apartment's front door. "I'm gay."
She laughs, and kisses him on the mouth, just as messy and desperate as him.
"You don't need to know my name," She says. "My husband's never home. You wanna have some fun?"
Oh, he never spotted her wedding ring. She's not wearing one, Jimin notices, as she unzips herself out of that pantsuit.
He shrugs. Not his problem. She's down and so is he.
As Jimin fucks her pussy, entering her with short thrusts, he stares at her, and feels hysterical.
What is he doing?
What's wrong with him?
What's wrong with him?
Shame, thick hot rivulets of shame slide out of Jimin, emptying into her wet, slick pussy. He's aroused, he's so ashamed of himself, aware he's out of his mind, losing control of his actions. He's hot for it though, hot and needy and ready to fuck her again.
"You're a beast," she giggles, throwing an arm around him, sounding out of her mind too, as Jimin frantically fucks her again for a third time, his hips snapping forward at a brutal pace. "You sure know how to make a woman feel good, baby."
Jimin buries his face in her pillow, so he doesn't have to reply to her. He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know anything anymore.
He's crying silently as he fucks her, sobbing.
She's too into it to notice. This is what Jimin is: free use.
He's okay, he's okay.
♡
"Park Jimin?"
Secretary Min's voice is cool and crisp over the line.
"Yes?"
"Please come to Kim-sajangnim's office. He wishes to have a word with you."
Jimin buttons up his blazer, and stands up, hope blazing in him. He's been gunning for a promotion at this engineering firm even if he only got this part-time job through the internship offered by his university.
He's so excited, there's a skip to his step.
The married woman he hooked up with has now become ... a regular lay. Jimin doesn't know what to think of it or what that means for his sexuality or why he's crawling back to her apartment to bust in her pussy during several frenzied rounds of fucking her.
He asked her if she'd consider fucking him. She laughed, lightly tapped Jimin's cheek like he was a precocious child and said, "I'll think about it. But we're not keeping it here. My husband ..."
So that's that, and Jimin is her human dildo. It's fine. He's okay.
It almost feels like there's a connection between him and her, when he fucks her, driving into her soft and wet flesh. She is nameless but she's tender with her touches, moreso than the men who fuck him, spanning her palms over Jimin's back.
It's not love. It's something.
She's soft, sweet and kisses Jimin too. He was surprised first, letting out a startled sound when she kissed Jimin fully on the mouth, and she cupped his cheeks, stroking at the apples of Jimin's cheeks with her thumbs.
Now Jimin understands why other men crave women.
So it's been a strange and confusing time for him. Jimin has sought out other men and ... women these days.
The women are softer. Tender. Touch Jimin more gently.
It's not love. It's something.
Jimin feels the nervous flutters of his pulse under his skin, as he knocks, hearing his boss call out, "Come in."
Kim-sajangnim is a broad-shouldered man with pretty and full lips. Jimin would lust after him, but he's aware his boss is besotted with Secretary Min.
"Sajangnim," Jimin murmurs, bowing ninety degrees.
When he straightens, his heart sinks. Kim-sajangnim and Secretary Min are both looking unusually serious.
"Jimin-ssi," Kim-sajangnim says quietly. "We have something serious to talk about."
To Jimin's surprise, Kim-sajangnim turns pink in the face. He opens and closes his mouth several times, looking like a fish out of water. Then his shoulders slump, and he gestures hopelessly at Secretary Min.
"Yoongi, tell him please. I can't do it."
Secretary Min's face falls for a few seconds. Then he steels himself, going back to his usual deadpan expression.
"Jimin-ssi," he says. "Are you aware that we closely audit the company WiFi?"
Jimin's blood runs cold.
Now it's him with his jaw agape. Because—
Kim-sajangnim gives him a weary look. "Yes, we are able to bypass your VPN," he says, his voice toneless and unamused.
Jimin blanches.
Secretary Min gives him a steely look.
"Jimin-ssi, your hard drive is filthy," he says. "This is not what your PC was granted to you at work for."
Jimin bends his back into a ninety degrees bow again, his mind whirring at the speed of light.
He apologizes. He apologizes. He loses count of many times he says sorry.
They let him off but tell him this is his first warning. He cannot be watching all of that nasty gay porn at work.
Jimin nods, shaky and overwhelmed and close to tears.
He's spiralling out of control. He knows it, but no, he's still okay. All he has to do is clean out his hard drive, he got so fucking lax he stopped giving a fuck.
Now, with tears in his eyes, still feeling that constant hum of arousal under his skin, Jimin deletes it all.
The worst part is, Jimin is sorry, oh yes, he is so very sorry, but there is still a plug snugly wedged up his ass, keeping him nicely stretched out and feeling full. He's sorry, he really is sorry, but he is also so very depraved. He knows where the camera is in his office.
Out of sight of the camera, Jimin jerks off hard and fast, imagining Kim-sajangnim and Secretary Min taking turns fucking him on his own desk.
He's frustrated, close to tears, and he wonders why he's doing what he's doing the whole time.
This is not what Jimin wants.
This is also what Jimin wants.
What's wrong with him?
What's wrong with him?
♡
Jungkook manages to stay sober for two days. The first day, he has a gig in the evening at a small gay bar in Itaewon, called Pulse. Jimin dresses up nicely, his tightest pair of denims and a plaid shirt. Doesn't stick a plug up his ass for once.
He feels a little more real.
They take the subway together, holding hands, Jungkook's guitar sprawled over both their laps. Jungkook drops his head onto Jimin's shoulder.
"You know," Jungkook says, hugging Jimin's arm to his chest. "Hyung, you know what. You're basically my older brother at this point."
Jimin's heart swells with love. He knows it's love when it comes to Jungkook. He doubts that with everyone else, but with Jungkook, he doesn't have to wonder whether it's just something.
He knows what he feels for Jungkook is most definitely love. It's not romantic love.
That's why Jimin finds the notion of love so very confusing. If he loves Jungkook, and it isn't romantic at all, and that is all he is capable of feeling, then why isn't that enough for him? What is it?
What is he craving?
What's wrong with him?
What's wrong with him?
"At this point?" Jimin asks, laughing lightly. "Punk. I was always your brother."
Jungkook grins, and buries his face in Jimin's neck.
"Am I going to be okay?" He asks quietly, and Jimin's heart aches. But he has to be strong, because he's the okay one.
Many bad things happened to them together. They share the weight of an awful past, and so here they are, holding hands, the only real family each other's got. They're both fucked up but they're all the other has.
It has to be good enough. They must make do.
There is a reason they are both in Seoul, and not in Busan. They are both Busan boys at heart, and they drop the posh city boy accent to lapse in satoori with each other.
But Busan is also not home. Neither is Seoul though.
"Yes," Jimin says, without hesitation. He squeezes Jungkook's hand tighter.
Jungkook pulls away from Jimin for a bit. He drums on his guitar case lightly with his free set of fingers.
"How about you?" Jungkook asks. "Will you be okay, Jimin-hyung?"
Jimin flinches, feeling like he got slapped across the face, and his cheek is still smarting with the after-sting of it.
"What about me," he jokes, rolling his eyes. "I'm okay. I'm always okay."
Thankfully, Jungkook drops it.
The performance is lovely. Jimin settles at the bar, with an opened bottle of nice, chilled soju. He smiles, takes a sip of it and savours the taste of it, ignoring the looks of sexual interest sent his way which is ironic because he's at a gay bar.
He's here for his brother.
When Jungkook sings, his voice heals Jimin and makes everything alright. He sings like an angel, and everything about his brother is sweet and innocent in this moment. Jungkook's passion for his music is raw and real and beautiful to behold.
Like this, right now, hearing Jungkook sing, Jimin feels a lot more capable. He doesn't feel mad, unhinged and out of control, his emotions and lust running wild. He feels level and calm even as he drinks, good and collected and like a real human being with dignity and morals.
It's all going well. Jimin refuses at least five offers to buy him a drink. He doesn't even deign to look at who's offering.
But soon enough the itch, the maddening itch begins to build again.
He wants to stay, he really does. But fuck, the last man who offers, Jimin's shrewd eyes spot the white band around his ring finger where a wedding band definitely lies on top very frequently, and his resolve crumbles.
It's so good to get fucked raw and rough in a stall.
"Call me oppa," the man pants, his nails digging into Jimin's hips.
Jimin's eyes roll heavenward. Really? Okay, whatever. Anything to keep this loser fucking him the way he is, like a god.
"Oppa," Jimin whimpers, making his voice high and breathy and sweet. "Oppa, oppa."
"That's it, baby," the guy moans, releasing a dirty chuckle in Jimin's ear. "Mm, pretty baby. You like oppa's cock?"
"Oppa feels so good," Jimin murmurs, and gasps, genuinely gasps when the man starts up a relentless pace. He can feel his skull rattling, he's pounded Hard.
He wants this guy to nut in him. Like Jimin is his personal trash can. He wants to be free use for all the married men in the world, he wants to be their dirty little secret. Nobody needs to know when these guys are banging him. Only Jimin gets to know of their sins.
He's good enough for them to sin. Not good enough for them to even want to woo and date on the side and wine and dine and have a whole messy affair with. No, he's good enough just for the fuck. He's good cheating sex.
That's it.
That's okay. That's fine.
"Breed me," Jimin whines. "Oppa, fill my pussy with your cum. Get me pregnant."
The man behind him starts, and lets out a surprised grunt.
"Yeah?" The man grunts, and grips Jimin's hips even tighter. "Oppa will knock you up. Yeah, fuck. Fuck."
The man nuts in Jimin, the married man with a very real woman in his life. For a weird second, Jimin pictures being this man's unlucky wife, getting fucked to become pregnant, and his heart feels torn with weird emotions.
What has he done?
When he gets out, freshened up and composed, his ass somewhat clean, Jimin smiles at Jungkook who's chatting with friends from his program at the bar.
Jungkook gives him a sad look.
Jimin feels shame all over again. He looks away.
♡
Next morning, Jimin is hungover. He tumbles out of bed, only to find Jungkook at the sink, methodically washing Jimin's horsecock dildo, which Jimin didn't bother cleaning last night.
"Don't do that," Jimin snaps, embarrassed, angry and upset.
"Someone has to," Jungkook snaps back. "You don't even clean your toys anymore. You leave them in the basin, in the sink. Fuck. Someone has to clean them. What, you didn't even notice? I'm the one who's doing it and placing them back in your toys drawer."
Jimin's cheeks flush an affronted, ugly red.
"I'll do that," Jimin says, slapping Jungkook's hands away hastily. He's burning up in both anger and shame, so much shame that it will consume him whole like magma from an erupted volcano.
Jungkook steps away, and Jimin can't bear to look at him.
"You're not okay," he says.
"I'm the okay one," Jimin retorts. "I am keeping my job and school stuff running just fine. I do your homework assignments. I am able to make rent. I'm okay. I'm fine. Stop accusing me when you should take a look at yourself."
Jungkook's breathing hitches.
Jungkook stomps off to his bedroom and slams the door shut. Jimin winces as he hears the sound of shit being thrown around. He's pissed off, and honestly, all he can think of is getting off. It feels wrong and dirty to do it in their kitchen, where they eat.
He sets the horsecock on the floor, pulls his pants down and greedily impales himself on it, then and there, using lube from one of the drawers.
His life is spiralling out of control. But no, he's okay. He's okay, he's fine.
This dildo is so huge, it doesn't take too long for him to cum. Jimin groans, husky and low, pictures the loser from yesterday fucking him like an animal when Jimin mentioned the breeding shit.
He thinks of it now though, being bred. His gut stuffed full with warm cum. All of the jizz.
He cleans the dildo again and dumps it in his bedroom. He runs both sets of fingers through his hair with a sigh.
When Jimin comes out, he finds Jungkook wheeling out his luggage carrier.
His eyes widen.
"I'm leaving," Jungkook says, his voice cold. "Since I'm the fucked up one and you're not. You're the okay one, right? I'll go stay at my friend's place instead, he has room for me. I'm going to try to sober up even if it fucking kills me."
Jimin clenches his fists.
"Is he gonna do your assignments for you like I did?" Jimin spits out. "Is he going to tolerate all of your bullshit?" He yells.
"Maybe not," Jungkook yells back. "Maybe he will. Maybe I'll heal if I'm away from you. You're toxic. You're so toxic."
"Leave," Jimin screams, pointing at the door. "Leave then," he says more softly, feeling unhinged, wild and out of sorts,but even more intensely so. "Leave then, if I'm so toxic. Leave. Leave me alone. Fuck off. Find a better life far away from me. Good luck."
"I'm leaving," Jungkook says, and he's crying, and Jimin yells some more, not even sure what he's yelling, and then the door is slamming shut, and Jimin's throwing cutlery around in the kitchen, and screaming at himself next.
Is this heartbreak?
Is this what heartbreak truly feels like?
Jungkook is gone.
He has no one now. Truly no one. Only him and his inner demons and his libido for company.
It's not good company.
♡
He leaves a dozen messages on Jungkook's cell phone, feeling sad. Sure enough, Jimin never went into his baby cousin's bedroom. His little brother's bedroom. He keeps Jungkook's door shut now, and begs for Jungkook to come back home.
"Come back home," Jimin says. "This is your home. Hyung is sorry."
Jungkook doesn't respond to the messages or take up the phone. Jimin does whatever he wants around the apartment now. He walks around naked, he jerks himself off, compulsively, till his cock is so over-sensitive and hurts one day. He fucks himself with dildos. He has men over.
He invites multiple men over too at one point, getting three of them over so one can stuff his mouth, the second can stuff his ass and and the third can jerk him off. They wring orgasms out of him, mercilessly, both dry and wet. He begs them to go, keep going.
When they leave, he ventured out onto the balcony, into the sunset, staring at the pinks and purples and blues in the sky, like they're all one giant bruise, just his own heart, mind and soul. He cries into his own hands, and tries Jungkook's number yet again in vain.
Don't leave me alone, little brother. Don't leave me alone to deal with myself like this.
♡
Jimin is a loose cannon now. This is good, a lot of sexy fun. He needs this to feel okay. He needs to feel okay. When he feels himself begin to crave tenderness, he visits the woman who refuses him her name but offers her pussy. Jimin craves her kisses though.
He fucks her like the beast she says he is, other men fuck him like the beasts they are. What's the difference?
He's losing his grip on what's real and what isn't.
What's wrong with him?
What's wrong with him?
♡
There's a married man staring at Jimin on the subway.
Jimin's sitting right next to the steel rods extended up to the roof of the train compartment, and he has his fingers curled around it. His eyes widen.
It's the same married man from months ago.
Taehyung.
Taehyung's eyes are also wide. He's still absentmindedly twirling the gold band around his finger, but now there is no fear on his face, just like Jimin predicted there wouldn't be.
He's staring unabashedly, hungrily at Jimin now.
He wants. He is not afraid to want now.
The man has cheated. Or is finally ready to cheat.
He has definitely broken. He'll cheat on his wife with Jimin today. He'll break his wife's heart thoroughly.
And Jimin will help Taehyung accomplish exactly that.
The same colleague stands up and claps Taehyung on the back. Says something about a spreadsheet again, and Taehyung's eyes hold a rebellious glint in them which Jimin really likes.
That spreadsheet isn't getting done today.
He doesn't get up and bound for the sliding doors when Jimin occupies the seat next to him, but he does take a deep breath.
Jimin reaches out to hold Taehyung's hand, the one with the wedding band on it.
Taehyung squeezes his hand back.
"Got a place in mind?" Jimin asks, under his breath
Taehyung laughs dryly. "Not going tell me your name first?"
Jimin snorts. "Why? If you want, I'll call you Oppa or Appa. Whatever does it for you."
It's Taehyung's turn to snort. "No thanks to Appa," he grumbles. "I'm a father."
"Oh yeah?" Jimin asks. "How many?"
"Three," Taehyung says.
"Fuck," Jimin says, with feeling. "Your poor wife."
Taehyung laughs. Jimin likes the sound of it. He hates it, the way Taehyung looks so beautiful and is already really sweet even if he is a cheater.
In another world, Jimin might have asked Taehyung to take him out.
This is not that reality.
"You don't have to sweat it," Jimin says. "Let's go to my place. I live alone," he adds, with a careless smile, even as his heart hurts, because usually he tells these losers, I live with my younger brother, book a motel room.
Taehyung's eyes light up.
They still hold hands though, and Jimin isn't surprised that Taehyung lets him. He drops his head onto the other man's shoulder, testing his limits. Taehyung doesn't shake him off.
That does surprise Jimin. His breath catches in his throat.
◇ He ... leans more into Taehyung's personal space, and Taehyung sighs, melting under Jimin's clinginess.
Oh, so is this what they're doing? They're playing at being pretend-boyfriends?
Okay, alright.
"How old are you?" Taehyung asks quietly.
"I'm 25," Jimin murmurs. "You?"
"35," Taehyung replies. "Ten exact years older."
"Sexy," Jimin says. He smiles, when Taehyung laughs. Such a nice man. Why is he cheating? Why, why, why? But also, Jimin doesn't care.
"So what are we?" Jimin asks. "What do you want us to be?"
Taehyung sighs, vulnerable, exhausted and ever so sweetly toxic, as he says, "I'm an openly gay man. You're my younger boyfriend. I picked you up from your part-time job. Just for this night. Okay?"
Ouch. But okay.
"Okay, oppa," Jimin murmurs. "We're boyfriends."
He holds Taehyung's hand the whole time they get out of the station, at Jimin's stop, so he can feel the weight of Taehyung's wedding band against his own skin, the weight of their actions.
"Why did you run away from me last time?" Jimin asks, when his front door finally closes, and Taehyung has him pushed up against it, greedily mauling his neck. "Oppa, Jiminnie was really sad about that."
Taehyung chuckles. "Jiminnie was too brave and direct," he replies.
"What's changed now?" Jimin asks coyly.
Taehyung cups the back of his neck and whispers, "Oppa wants sweet Jiminnie far too much."
Then he kisses Jimin fully on the mouth.
Jimin thought Taehyung might be a kisser. He is not surprised by this. But he's surprised at how tenderly Taehyung touches him, so carefully tender with the way Jimin's cheeks are cupped, that Jimin's heart goes skydiving, leaping first.
But then his heart falls and sinks.
Because this isn't love. This also isn't just something.
This is an upsetting in-between.
Taehyung kisses Jimin like Jimin's actually his wife, his own actual partner. There's passion and zest and life in this kiss.
It's a wonderful kiss.
"Tell Oppa what you want," Taehyung whispers, and his voice is kind, so understanding that Jimin's eyes nearly fill with tears.
"I need to cum a lot," Jimin murmurs, embarrassed. "I'm really insatiable. I can keep going, Oppa."
Taehyung's eyes light up.
"Me too," he says, relieved, and Jimin stares at Taehyung's bitten lips.
He groans out loud later in his bedroom when Taehyung pulls his boxers down.
"Huge," Jimin whimpers in satisfaction. "You're so fucking huge, Oppa."
Smirking, Taehyung steps out of his pants, unapologetic and cocky. Ah yes, Jimin's not Taehyung's cheating-first. He's way too cocky and sure of himself now.
"Yeah, it looks like you like Oppa's huge cock, baby," Taehyung says. "What are you going to do about it?"
Jimin sinks down to his knees, grabs Taehyung's cock and begins to suck. He's surprised when Taehyung gently pushes him away, and says, "Wait, wait, wait, let me put on a condom."
Blinking, Jimin watches Taehyung roll a condom onto his cock.
This isn't tender or careful, this is just common sense. But Jimin hasn't cared about his own safety in ages.
"You still want to—?"
"I'm not a fan of latex," Jimin says. "Sorry, Oppa."
Taehyung nods, and gently pulls Jimin back up to his feet. He engages Jimin in yet another gentle, caring, and sweet kiss, as he skillfully rids Jimin of his clothing. The way he does it is such that Jimin can tell this is how Taehyung undresses his wife too.
Does that hurt? It's just their second meeting, and Jimin analyzes it as Taehyung's pretend boyfriend for the night. Mostly no, because he mostly is interested in this man getting him off by railing him.
"You're beautiful," Taehyung whispers, his voice filled with awe.
Jimin blushes. That, that maybe does hurt a little more.
Maybe someday, he might like a man who's truly his, to call him that. Maybe.
If Jimin's even worth salvaging for romantic love.
Jimin doesn't want to be kissed down from his throat to his tummy, over his hipbone and the backs of his hands today. But Taehyung still does do it, like Jimin's an All You Can Eat buffet. Trembling, Jimin spreads his legs, half-hard, but enjoying the slow caresses.
"This," Taehyung says, looking up with dark eyes. "Is how I'll get you to cum for me to your heart's content. I give you lots of kisses, and you just have to lie back and take it."
Jimin covers his face with his palms, flustered.
"Don't be shy," Taehyung coos, endeared at Jimin's shyness. "Oppa loves giving you kisses, Jiminnie."
Ugh.
So Jimin gets kissed and Taehyung gently coaxes a dry orgasm out of him. Another one.
Jimin's thoroughly Taehyung's boyfriend by the time Taehyung's ready to slide in and fuck him. He moves slow, he moves deliberately. He moves to edge, he moves to tease. He moves to coax whimpers and sighs from Jimin, not screams and pants.
He's good. Really good.
But this is not love.
This is not just something either.
It's—it's being treated with respect and care, not being treated like a trash can, a receptacle to lodge semen into.
But is it enough?
(No.)
Jimin pulls his pants up after Taehyung cleans him a little. He pads out to the front door, and Taehyung's looking tired, but not guilty. Mostly content and peaceful.
"Was I your first man?" Jimin asks.
Taehyung shakes his head. Jimin pouts. That's so silly, why does he have ego about this? He doesn't even know why. Stupid.
"Will you do this again?" Jimin asks.
"No," Taehyung says easily. Then adds, because he's toxic. "Maybe with you."
Jimin stares at him and feels exhausted. He can't do this. He can't do this shit, sleeping with these fucking losers anymore. These closeted men who don't leave their wives and trap young men like Jimin into toxic sexual arrangements so they can have their cake and eat it too.
Maybe Jimin's not better than this. Maybe Jimin will always be drawn to them because they will give him all the nasty taboo sex he'll ever want.
Maybe Jimin will stop putting himself out there too.
He doesn't know. He's unsure.
He leaves a voicemail again on Jungkook's cellphone that night.
"I have a problem," Jimin says quietly. "I'm addicted to sex. I need your help. I'm tired of having sex. I want a life outside of this. I'm tired. Help me. Please. I'm not okay, Jungkook. I'm not okay."
The next morning, Jimin wakes up to Jungkook singing in his kitchen. He smiles in his pillow. He has a morning erection, he quickly takes care of that, functional and mindless.
Something that must be done.
"Bro," Jungkook says, when Jimin slowly emerges out of his bedroom.
Jimin laughs. "Bro," he returns, and wraps his arms around Jungkook, his little brother, the one person Jimin is very sure he loves.
"I started therapy," Jungkook says. "You want to check out my clinic?"
Jimin frowns, already unsure and afraid of the healing process. He doesn't want to Talk. He's not that kind of a person.
"I'll think about it," Jimin says softly.
Jungkook nods, and rubs Jimin's back, slow and careful.
"We'll take it together," Jungkook says. "One day at a time, okay? But we have to start living in the present. We can't live in the past anymore."
They decide the first step is to use their living room more, instead of hiding away in their bedrooms.
After they eat, they watch a sappy, romantic movie together. Jimin cries, Jungkook sympathy-cries with him. Then they cry harder for other reasons.
"It was bad," Jimin gasps out. "I was never okay. It fucked me up. I'm still not okay. It hurt every single part of me. I still feel shame. So much shame."
Jungkook's eyes are shiny with tears as well.
"Me too," Jungkook says. "So much shame."
They hold hands and hug it out and cry.
"We're not bad people," Jungkook says after a while, hiccuping slightly. He cups Jimin's cheeks tenderly with his tattooed hands, the tattoos that he got in big trouble for with his parents, and looks into Jimin's red-rimmed eyes. "Hyung, we're not bad people. We just come from a bad place."
Jimin is only on step one of this whole healing thing. But it's a big step for him because—
Jimin was never the okay one ever. He was never fine.
It's a relief to know that for sure.
Because maybe he can start to move on.
Because life goes on.
♡