Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jimin tiptoes from one foot to the other, gaze glued to the gate Yoongi will leave through any minute.

Those two weeks passed by in no time; as Jimin woke up this morning, he almost didn’t want to believe it’s about time already. He spent his whole day nervous and anticipating the arrival of Yoongi’s plane (the last two hours were torture!)

Another minute and the first people walk out. Jimin scans each of them, praying to finally see the beautiful black haired man. A glance down at his phone: the last message is Yoongi informing him they just landed around thirty minutes ago.

Another minute. More people walk out, passing Jimin to head out of the airport. Still no glimpse of his boyfriend. This is the worst. He impatiently chews his cheek and rocks back on his heels, and then—

He almost jumps when he feels slim arms wrap around him from behind, his heart skipping multiple beats. The shock is replaced by a jolt of happiness in the blink of an eye, and he spins around in Yoongi’s arms, falling in love with him all over again as he gets to see him in reality, feel his arms around him, and meet his gaze without a camera between.

“You scared the living shit out of me! Oh my god, you’re really here!” Jimin blurts out, hands cupping his cheeks.

“It was adorable, how you were searching and searching and just passed me,” Yoongi teases, lips curled into a warm smile.

“Mind you, you’re wearing a beanie—I was searching for your pretty hair!” Jimin pouts a little, but then he returns a smile, hands pulling him closer. He closes the distance between them, his heart almost jumping out of his chest when he gets to feel his lips in reality again—gets to touch him and feel his presence.

Yoongi fully wraps his arms around him, easing himself into the kiss with passion. He matches Jimin’s guidance, stepping close enough for their bodies to press together for a brief moment.

“God, I missed you so much,” Yoongi whispers, allowing himself another quick peck before pulling away enough to lock eyes with him again. “I’m so fucking happy I can be here right now.”

“So am I, love.” He lowers his hands, playfully trailing them over his sides. “Nothing’s as good as getting to touch you again after waiting for an eternity. It fulfills me.”

“You’re silly.” Yoongi chuckles softly, squirming away as Jimin threatens to tickle him. (Yoongi hates it, and Jimin loves teasing him with it.) 

After another failed attempt and a shared laugh, Jimin takes Yoongi’s hand into his own, the other gripping the suitcase, so they can exit the airport. He takes the lead, heading down the area to the main exit.

“Carrying my suitcase and all, hm? I’m a big boy, I could do that on my own,” Yoongi points out with a smirk, keeping up the act by trying to reach for the handle. He doesn’t actually try, and Jimin wouldn’t let him anyway.

“You’re always getting the full princess treatment, love. Carrying your suitcase, driving you to my home—dinner’s ready as well for when we arrive.” Jimin presses a kiss to his cheek before picking up their pace to reach his car as quickly as possible.

They non-stop yap and talk—and Jimin’s hand is always somewhere on his body, whether it’s his thigh, holding his hand, or teasingly caressing his neck—on their drive home, while Jimin finishes up cooking, throughout having dinner together, and even afterwards when they carry the suitcase and bag to his bedroom to unpack the essentials. Charger, phone, shampoo, and clothes he can change into for the shower he’s about to take.

“Wait-” Jimin stops him from walking out by gripping the back of his shirt and yanking him back, pulling him against his chest. “-you haven’t forgotten about the rest I’ll find out in fourteen days, have you? It’d be an awesome moment—I can barely keep my hands off you.” He leans in, lips ghosting Yoongi’s neck.

“I noticed,” Yoongi replies in a whisper, hand reaching for Jimin’s on his lower belly. “It’s just-...I’m not sure if I'll still be comfortable. I couldn’t stop overthinking it…”

Jimin pouts against his skin, a sigh leaving his lips. “It’s bullshit what they said. They’re idiots. I know how to appreciate your efforts, baby, and I’d love to see you dress up for me again.”

Somewhere within those two weeks, Yoongi happened to get caught up in the wrong conversation. He told his friends about their anniversary, and they ended up making fun about it. (Yoongi refused to tell him what exactly they said, but Jimin can quite imagine it.) They probably didn’t even mean it in a serious way, which doesn’t matter. It left Yoongi doubting himself anyway.

Jimin still remembers the shock he felt when he read Yoongi’s messages out of the blue. Min-ah, am I weird for liking to wear lingerie? It’s fine if you don’t actually like it. I don’t want you to be embarrassed or weirded out.

Yoongi’s been struggling with his own image for a while already, and Jimin was so goddamn happy when he saw him feel confident and truly pretty—it’s upsetting him so much that his friends had to ruin what was supposed to be a good memory.

“I don’t know—I feel like I’d kill the mood if I put it on and just be awkward with it.” Yoongi leans against him, gently stroking the back of his hand.

“How about we give it a try? You take your shower and put it on, and I’ll make sure to take those worries off you afterwards. If you’re genuinely uncomfortable, we can stop.” Jimin places a gentle peck on his throat, feeling him relax a little.

“Okay—okay, fine.” He frees himself from Jimin’s embrace, returning to his suitcase instead of walking out. With a smaller bag, he walks out of the room without another word, the bathroom door shutting a moment later.

Jimin drops down on his bed, running a hand through his hair. It really, really pisses him off. Not only does he look out of this world—he also finally found something that makes him appreciate his own body a little more. Just how dare they ruin it for a few jokes? A bit of laughter over a trusted friend.

Yeah, he'll make sure he feels comfortable again.

Almost half an hour later, the bathroom door opens again—Jimin knows damn well he never takes more than fifteen minutes to shower. His footsteps pad softly on the floor, his head hanging low as he steps into the doorframe.

He’s wearing something less revealing this time, but it’s no less attractive. It’s more fabric than straps, all black again. Seamless shorts covering parts of his thighs, up to his lower belly. His chest is covered by the same fabric, cut low on his shoulders. Two lace straps connect the top and bottom, perfectly framing his thin body. The thin choker around his throat completes it, a white ribbon on the front.

“Come here, my love.” Jimin holds his hands out for him, keeping his voice gentle and soft. Yoongi’s discomfort is obvious to him, and it saddens him.

After a moment of hesitation, Yoongi approaches him with quick and uncertain steps, face flushed as he looks up to lock eyes. Jimin takes him by the waist and sits him down next to him, offering him a warm smile.

“You’re beautiful—the most beautiful boy on this planet.” He places his hand underneath Yoongi’s chin, stopping him from dropping his head. Slowly, he leans in, claiming his thin lips for a soft kiss. Yoongi isn’t relaxed at all, but he lets Jimin do his things anyway. He stays passive, adapting to the motions of Jimin’s lips and holding onto his shoulders for support.

“Just what are you planning, Min-ah?” Yoongi asks after a minute, staying close enough for their lips to brush as he talks.

“You’ll see for yourself. Just sit back and relax, my pretty boy.” Jimin helps him properly lean back and kneels down next to him, his gaze languidly wandering him up and down. His hands follow, briefly trailing over his sides, to his hips, all the way down to his knees. 

Yoongi squirms a little, hands grasping the sheets next to him. The flush on his cheeks is incredibly adorable—it’s more obvious thanks to his pale skin, and a contrast to the black fabric.

“I love how the shorts emphasize your thighs. You often wear pants that let me see them—they’re stunning.” He lets the tips of his fingers dance over them, and Yoongi offers him a quiet hum in response, lifting his thigh into his touch.

Jimin bends down, kissing his way from his knee up to the shorts, mapping the outer curve. His fingertips hook underneath the fabric; he pulls it up by a bit, using the space to place further kisses on his pale skin. His free hand slips between his thighs, gently massaging—tracing the outline of his muscles as he tenses up. He lets his hand wander all the way up until his fingers almost touch his crotch, then goes back down, thumb lightly pressing into his skin.

“Your waist—it’s perfect for me to grab. Looks perfect in high- and low-cut stuff.” He keeps his hand between his thighs while shifting up, pulling the band of the shorts down, so he can press a kiss to his hip.

“I always send you pictures on purpose if my clothes emphasize it,” Yoongi whispers, belly hollowing with a heavy exhale.

“And I love it—I love looking at you.” Jimin smiles, experimentally sticking out his tongue. He trails it to his waist, sucking the skin between his teeth, hoping it’s going to leave a mark later. A soft whine escapes Yoongi’s throat, hips buckling up slightly. Jimin takes it as a yes, that’s good, and repeats it on another spot further up, one hand still on his thigh, the other moving. From his hip to his waist, all the way up to the hem of the top. The tips of his fingers dance over the area, feeling the ridges of his ribs faintly underneath his skin.

After two more marks, Jimin slightly sits up, taking one of Yoongi’s hands into his own. The silver ring’s on the correct finger this time, properly serving its purpose: a reminder that Jimin is going to marry him one day. Not quite an engagement ring, more like I'm going to propose as soon as I came up with a fancy idea to make it the best day ever.

“I love your hands. They’re gentle, always touching me with care and affection. But they can also be strong…keep me close and show me how much I mean to you.” Jimin meets his gaze, and Yoongi smiles, visibly calm and relaxed by now.

His plan is working.

Jimin gently presses his fingers against the ring, dropping his head to kiss his palm. Gentle and affectionate, without any further intentions but to show him how much he loves every part of him. From his palm, up to the tips of his fingers, then to the back of his hand. He circles his own fingers around the ring, pushing it up to let it drop back down.

“You’re cute, Min-ah.” Yoongi chuckles, and Jimin nods, taking his other hand to repeat the same.

By the time he’s done with them, he gently strokes up both his arms with each hand, resting them on his shoulders. His fingers press into the skin, offering him a slight massage. Yoongi’s breathing heavily, eyes blazing with warmth and happiness—genuine happiness.

Jimin, not done yet, bends down, lips meeting his throat—the spot just underneath the choker. He trails up, tugging on the ribbon with his teeth. (The ribbon in his hair back in their call drove him insane, just as much as this one does. He's just so pretty with them.) His hands stroke down, mapping the outlines of his chest covered by the soft fabric. His ribs underneath, his pounding heart, his hard nipples straining the thin fabric—he makes sure to touch every inch, every curve and line.

More love bites across his throat and shoulders, a few obscene licks, more words of affection—Jimin means every bit of it, and he loves seeing Yoongi become more and more undone. Not quite in an aroused way.  Perhaps, it’s way deeper than that. It’s an emotional act, meant to prove to Yoongi just how much his body deserves to be desired and appreciated—just how thankful Jimin is to get the chance to touch every inch of him.

“Everything about you’s perfect, my love,” Jimin says as he moves up on eye-level, thump trailing over his bottom lip. “There’s nothing wrong with showing off. Lingerie looks ethereal on you—don’t let others ruin it.” He kisses him with all the love and affection he possesses, hand tucking underneath the tight top, over his heaving chest, his nipples, and every other spot he can reach.

Their tongues meet and brush, working together in a rhythm—an interplay of emotions, desire, and affection—until Yoongi pulls away with a whimper.

“I love you, Min-ah…really, I really do,” he manages, squirming underneath his intense touch. “You’re right…I shouldn’t let others affect my opinions. I like it, and so do you—that’s all that matters.” 

Jimin smiles and nods because—yes, that’s all that matters. The two of them. No one else.

“I’ll continue, yeah? Let me make you feel good,” Jimin tells him, silently using it to check in with him. He doesn’t move until Yoongi reassures him by nodding, and then he sits up, tucking his hand underneath the band of the shorts. Yoongi lifts his hips for him, and Jimin slips it off his legs, freeing his throbbing cock. He can feel the fabric soaked in pre-cum and see it collect on the head as well, almost dripping already. “You liked my touch, baby. That’s hot.”  Jimin looks up, finding Yoongi hiding his face behind his hands.

“Couldn’t help it—your kisses…all the things you’ve said. You’re making me feel so much.” His voice is weak and embarrassed, and it makes Jimin smile, his chest tightening comfortably.

“I’ll take care of it. You’ll have to sit up—can you do that for me?”

Yoongi does like he’s told to in an instant, eyes half-lidded as he waits for further instructions. Jimin lies down on his back next to him, which is enough for Yoongi to understand, his eyes lighting up in excitement. (It’s not often that Jimin lets him do it this way, so it always excites him a lot. There’s no specific reason, just personal preference.)

Yoongi eases himself on top of him, knees left and right from his face, and Jimin grips the back of his thighs in response. (It’s the best thing about doing it this way.) He lifts his head off the sheets, kissing the head of his cock, then sticks out his tongue to lave the pre-cum and get a taste of him.

“My baby tastes amazing, like always,” Jimin purrs, and Yoongi releases a whine, hands placed on the sheets above his head for support. His thighs tense as Jimin presses his flat tongue against the underside—he trails down to the base, lips brushing the head.

“Feels so good, Minie…thank you so much,” Yoongi groans, head dipping. The way he’s straddled on top of him offers Jimin the perfect view of his clothed chest and prominent cheekbones, the ribbon shifting as he jerks forward, against his tongue. His belly heaves, he squirms, and Jimin loves seeing him become a total mess on top of him.

Jimin licks up again, swirling his tongue around the head a second time before parting his lips, letting Yoongi jerk into his mouth. He remains gentle, like he always does, barely fitting half of his dick inside, so he doesn’t accidentally cause him any discomfort. (Jimin already told him a lot of times he wouldn’t be bothered, but Yoongi insists on it.)

“Ngh- so warm, so good.” Yoongi keeps one hand on the sheets, the other reaching for Jimin’s hair. He tangles his fingers in the strands, gently threading through them. Jimin pulls back, just to push his head up again, trying to remind Yoongi of the task he’s having—it works after a few bobs. Yoongi jerks into his mouth, still remaining cautious, and picks up a languid pace, face scrunching up.

Oh, how much Jimin enjoys seeing his boyfriend chase after pleasure. Whether it’s his mouth, his cock, or just a toy—it doesn’t matter. Yoongi enjoying himself and making himself moan is pleasing in any way.

Jimin adds his tongue to help him, causing more friction and pressure by keeping it on the underside of his cock. He tries hard to keep his eyes on Yoongi as much as possible, watching his shoulders tense, his brows knit together, and his jaw clench while fighting the urge to squeeze them shut. Yoongi picks up his pace quickly, eagerly fucking into his mouth and pushing himself closer and closer. His thighs tense every few seconds, and Jimin's brain fizzles out every time he feels it underneath his fingers. Yoongi’s hand continues to thread through his hair, the rough fabric of his pants rubs against his cock, and—

He’s about to lose it.

As Yoongi’s moans grow higher, Jimin can’t hold back anymore either. Muffled groans and hums escape his throat, eyes fluttering close against his will. He bobs his head against Yoongi’s jerks, desperate to make him feel good and treasured.

“Min-ah, you feel so goddamn amazing. So good, so hot, so—Ngh!” Yoongi doesn’t manage to keep gently caressing his hair. He buries his fingers in the strands, gripping tightly but making sure not to interrupt his motions. He sits up suddenly, interrupting his steady thrusts to lean back a little. After a few tries, he manages to hold himself up by placing his hands on Jimin’s hips, then returns to the same pace.

Jimin takes it without a problem, jaw relaxed, tongue still pressed against him. The sweet friction on his crotch gets more out of nowhere, his eyes rolling up with a moan. Yoongi’s hand—it’s Yoongi rocking his palm against his cock along his own motions, unsteady and messy but heavenly anyway.

“Cum with me, Minie—“ He gasps for air, head falling back. “-please…wanna together.”

Jimin offers him a higher grunt to let him know he’s all in for it, hips desperately buckling up into his palm. He presses his own hand on top of Yoongi’s to keep it in place, fingers intertwining. Yoongi’s body shivers, the top ridging up from his infrequent motions. Jimin’s name leaves his lips as his hips twitch, pushing just a little deeper into his mouth.

“Now—gonna cum,” Yoongi warns before turning silent, breath stilling, hips twitching a second time. His hot cum fills Jimin’s mouth, and together with the pressure and friction, it’s enough to push him over the edge as well. He cums into his pants, eyes rolling up and fluttering close, head falling back exhaustively. Yoongi’s dick slips out of his mouth, his legs finally relaxing. “Thank you so much, Minie,” Yoongi pants, momentarily dropping down on his chest as the post orgasm exhaustion hits him.

Jimin keeps his cum in his mouth for a moment to savor the taste that’s not really good—but it’s Yoongi’s, so it tastes like heaven to him. Locking eyes, he swallows hard, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip right after.

“I missed you so goddamn much, my love,” Jimin manages before having to catch his breath, and Yoongi snorts out a soft chuckle, rolling off him and plopping down next to him.

They just lie next to each other and calm down from their high for a few minutes, silently appreciating the moment, until Jimin becomes too conscious of the cum soaking his underwear. He gets up from his bed and walks over to the wardrobe, taking whatever his hands manage to grasp first.

By the time he turns back to the bed, he finds Yoongi kneeling at the edge, looking up at him with a little pout.

“Shirt or sweater?” Jimin asks, already knowing damn well he just wants to snatch his clothes again.

“Shirt,” Yoongi decides, a cute smile on his lips. “Can you help me out of this, by the way? I’m lazy and exhausted.”

“Of course. Turn around for me.” Jimin approaches him from behind as soon as he turns around and raises his arms, gripping the lowest part of it. Yoongi easily wiggles himself out of it without any issues, purring comfortably as Jimin dresses him in his shirt.

“Which pants do you want, baby?” Jimin asks as he crouches in front of his suitcase. In return for the shirt, he snatches himself a sweater from his boyfriend, lazily replacing his shirt with it.

“Just boxers. It’s fucking hot here in the south,” he mutters, still sitting on the bed.

Once both of them are dressed in their preferred options—Yoongi in boxers, Jimin in shorts, and a shirt or sweater from the other—they get comfortable together, simply lying in each other’s arms. Jimin gently caresses his boyfriend’s hair, a little amused when he notices the damp strands in his neck.

Yoongi has his head resting on Jimin’s chest, face turned to him, gaze glued to him—something he always does on their first day of being together. He’d snuggle up with him and simply look at him, not saying much—a little compliment or pointless comment, maybe—but expressing a million things with his eyes.

He’s the type of person to silently admire, and Jimin is just so in love with it.

“Was I able to help you a little?” Jimin asks after a while, gaze flinching to the choker he never bothered to take off. The ribbon is still on it as well, knitting as he nods slightly.

“It’s none of their business what I like…plus, they just don’t have a boyfriend as amazing and supportive as you. If they were to, they’d understand me,” he mutters, hand searching for Jimin’s. He intertwines their fingers, resting them on the sheets. “It really feels good…the way you look at me when I fancy up for you.”

“That’s cuz you just look so goddamn sexy and attractive—but you always do. It’s a nice spice-up.” Jimin’s gaze stays on the ribbon this time, when he looks down again. “M’ unsure if I’m expecting too much from you with that…but you should keep the choker on—or wear it more often. There’s something to it.”

“I’ll have to get one without a ribbon. Besides that, it’s an amazing idea. I’ll engrave your name on the inside,” Yoongi mumbles, and Jimin has a hard time contemplating how much he truly means that. “Actually, we could get another one together. I thought it’d be a good idea to go shopping…we’ll be separated for months again.”

“Keeping me entertained by letting me watch you in lingerie, hm? That has to be the best idea you ever came up with.” Jimin raises their hands to press a kiss on Yoongi’s, exhaustion beginning to scratch his brain. “I’ll add it to our to-do list, love—we definitely need to get something in a lighter color. Wanna see you cum in it next time.”

“Nasty.” Yoongi chuckles, his own eyes fluttering close for a split second.

“I know you love that thought just as much as I do.”

“Touché.”