Chapter Text
Jungkook had been an actor since he was a child. His entire life revolved around the craft—movies, dramas, commercials—acting was all he knew how to do. Alongside his career came strict contracts, and one of the most suffocating rules was that he wasn’t allowed to have a real relationship. After all, he already had an on-screen partner in the industry. Though their relationship was purely professional, their partnership was what fueled their fame, and fans always waited for the day when their reel pairing would finally turn into something real.
One thing was certain though—Jungkook and Taehyung were friends. More than friends, actually—they were brothers in the industry. Since they were kids, they had walked the same path together, growing into two of the biggest names in the entertainment world. They were tied together by countless brand endorsements, dramas, and blockbuster films.
And that was why Jungkook never tried to enter a serious relationship. His work, his contracts, his image—they were all things he couldn’t risk.
“Kook, aren’t you coming to the after party? Everyone’s going,” Taehyung asked with a bright smile. Jungkook bit his lip, feeling the exhaustion in his body. They had just wrapped their final shoot for their movie, and an after party was expected.
Taehyung patted him lightly, reading the hesitation in his face. “It’s okay, I’ll let them know you can’t make it. I’ll just drop by real quick too. I’m sleepy as hell anyway.”
Jungkook wanted to go with him, to be there for his friend, but instead he let Taehyung go ahead. That was something Jungkook admired about him—no matter how tired Taehyung was, he never let it show. He was always smiling, always cheerful, even when their schedules drained them.
As Jungkook stepped out of the tent, he was greeted by Jin, his manager and best friend.
“There’s an after party tonight. Taehyung’s going, and you can’t skip it. It’s a celebration of your movie,” Jin said. He noticed the weariness in Jungkook’s eyes and gave him a pat on the shoulder.
“You can’t refuse. The bosses asked for you.”
Jungkook sighed, closing his eyes briefly. He had no choice. He put on his fake smile and walked out.
When Taehyung spotted him, his brows furrowed and he quickly ran over. “You came? I thought you were going to skip,” Taehyung whispered.
Jungkook only shrugged and smiled back at him.
Their demeanor shifted instantly when the executives approached.
“Wow, you two were amazing! We saw the final cut, and we’re sure this will be another massive hit. This movie will be a blockbuster,” one of the directors said.
Both Jungkook and Taehyung bowed and thanked them politely.
“It would be even better if you two made your relationship real. Imagine the buzz if your love team becomes reality. It would skyrocket your popularity and box office sales.”
Jungkook and Taehyung exchanged a quick glance, both uncomfortable. Taehyung chuckled lightly and said, “Boss, we’re friends, and that’s good enough for now. If it’s meant to be, we’ll get there eventually, right Kook?”
With that, Taehyung wrapped an arm around Jungkook’s waist. The crowd reacted instantly, cheering. Fanservice. That’s all it was.
“Yes, sir,” Jungkook forced himself to reply.
He lasted four hours at the party before finally excusing himself. He was too tired, too drained, and his social battery had run out.
Back at his penthouse, he collapsed onto his massive couch. That was exactly why he had bought it in the first place—so big and soft that he could just crash there without even reaching his bed. He barely came home anymore with his packed schedule, but when he did, it was always the couch that caught him.
His phone buzzed. He frowned, knowing his “rest days” weren’t really rest at all.
Hana [Road Manager]:
Jeon, I already sent you your schedule for the upcoming weeks. Enjoy your break.
Opening the file, Jungkook sighed. His entire month was packed with endless work. He rubbed his temples before deciding to wash the fatigue off with a long shower.
But even afterward, lying in bed, his body was tired while his mind was wide awake. He picked up a manhwa, hoping it would lull him into sleep. Just as he was getting into it, his Instagram lit up with notifications.
DMs. Dozens of them. Strangers from different countries begging for his attention. Most were explicit.
It wasn’t the first time. Before his fame skyrocketed, Jungkook had indulged in a few one-night stands—just to blow off steam. Nothing serious, and always discreet. He had learned to cut ties immediately after, keeping his image intact.
But tonight, he felt rebellious. Burned out from the endless cycle of work, promotions, and pretending. The movie with Taehyung hadn’t even premiered yet, and he already felt suffocated.
Still, doing something risky in Korea was dangerous. He was too well-known here.
So he did something impulsive—he downloaded a dating app.
Most people on the app weren’t looking for dating. They were looking for sex. And Jungkook thought that was fine.
Until he matched with someone unexpected.
Park Jimin.
Jungkook was intrigued the moment he saw his profile photo. White t-shirt, square glasses, a black beret tilted stylishly, dangling earrings, and a playful pout paired with a peace sign. Cute, chic, and effortlessly magnetic.
His phone buzzed with a message. Jungkook’s eyes flicked to the screen, half-expecting another bold stranger. But this one was different.
Park Jimin:
Hi, Kj. Your profile screams fake. Definitely not you.
Jungkook froze, staring at the words. Nobody had ever called him out so quickly before. His pulse picked up as his fingers hovered over the keyboard. He typed slowly.
KJ:
Uh… yes, but by the way, are you free today?
He cringed at his own directness. Too fast. Too reckless. But part of him didn’t care. It was still early evening—Jungkook figured Jimin would probably laugh it off and decline.
Instead, the reply came fast.
Park Jimin:
Today? Hmm… maybe. But I’m at Starfield COEX Mall right now. Better meet here, so I know you’re not some scammer from a syndicate.
Jungkook blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected boldness. He bit his lip, his brain whirling. Public? That was risky. But wasn’t that exactly what he wanted? To feel alive, to step outside the suffocating cage of his contracts?
KJ:
I can guarantee your safety. But can we at least meet somewhere more private, like the parking lot?
His heart pounded as he hit send.
Park Jimin:
Oh wow. Well, for the record, I’m not a scammer. That’s really me in my photos. But honestly, I think I should be the one worried about you.
A laugh escaped Jungkook’s lips. He wasn’t sure if Jimin was flirting or just naturally this sharp, but the sass in his tone made Jungkook strangely excited.
KJ:
No! I’ll explain when we meet.
The typing bubble appeared, disappeared, then came back again—like Jimin was weighing his response.
Park Jimin:
Are you really that horny, risking your privacy like this?
Fine. But at least meet me at the mall’s main entrance. No need to get out of your car. Just text me when you’re here. By the way, here’s my number.
Jungkook’s eyes widened at the digits that popped up on his screen. Jimin was… actually agreeing?
KJ:
We can’t just talk here?
Park Jimin:
First time on this app? Messages disappear once you leave the chat. That’s why.
Jungkook cursed under his breath. That explained it. He had been fumbling through the app all night, annoyed at how things worked.
KJ:
Alright. So, see you later?
There was a pause. Then, finally—
Park Jimin:
Sure, sure.
Jungkook leaned back against the couch, exhaling a shaky breath. His thumb hovered over Jimin’s number, the corners of his lips twitching. This wasn’t part of the plan. He had downloaded the app just to test the waters, maybe laugh at a few profiles before deleting it. But now?
Now he was about to meet someone who had already managed to disarm him with just a few messages.
And for the first time in a long time, Jungkook felt something other than exhaustion.
He felt anticipation.
Jungkook didn’t waste any more time. He slipped on a plain black hoodie, tugged the hood over his head, and grabbed a mask and shades. His hand itched with restlessness as he took the elevator down to the private basement garage. Seconds later, his brand-new Rolls-Royce Phantom purred to life, the luxury engine a stark contrast to the nervous pounding of his chest.
The drive to COEX Mall felt longer than usual, though the roads were clear. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the thought lingering in his head—Am I really doing this? What if he recognizes me? What if this ruins everything?
When he finally pulled up to the mall’s main entrance, he parked near enough to see the glass doors but not too close to draw attention. He waited. Minutes passed. Every tick of the clock made him more certain he had been fooled. Maybe Jimin had been playing with him all along.
Then his phone buzzed.
Park Jimin:
I’m coming out of the mall now. Where are you?
KJ:
I’m already at the entrance. The moment you step out, you’ll see my car right away.
Seconds later, another ping.
Park Jimin:
I’m outside. Is this black Rolls-Royce yours? Damn, you must be rich. What are you—some politician’s son? Or are you a politician yourself?
Jungkook huffed in disbelief, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
KJ:
Funny. I’m not part of that world.
Park Jimin:
I’m just kidding. So… do I hop in? Front seat or back seat?
KJ:
Front seat.
As Jungkook hit send, he caught sight of a figure approaching his car. Instantly, he shoved the shades onto his face and adjusted his mask higher over his nose. Better safe than sorry. Fans were everywhere, and even one photo could destroy him.
The passenger door swung open. Jungkook’s heart stuttered.
And then—time froze.
Park Jimin was nothing like the profile photos. He was better. He wore a loose white shirt and simple shorts, his legs pale and lean under the bright mall lights. A lollipop dangled from his lips as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His presence was… disarming. Natural. Beautiful.
“Is this the right car?” Jimin’s voice was calm, gentle, and unexpectedly angelic. It didn’t match his mischievous look at all, and that contrast threw Jungkook off more than anything.
He managed a nod. Jimin slipped inside smoothly, closing the door behind him. The Phantom’s heavy tint swallowed them up, cutting them off from the outside world.
“So,” Jimin asked casually, settling into the seat as if they weren’t strangers, “where are we headed?”
“Have you eaten?” Jungkook asked, his voice low.
That earned him a sudden laugh—high-pitched, bright, boyish. A laugh that filled the car. Jimin tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief.
“You need sex, right? We don’t need to make small talk. You want sex, I want sex. So, which hotel are we going to? Or…” Jimin’s lips curved as he gestured around them, “do you plan to christen this Rolls-Royce of yours?”
Jungkook’s jaw slackened. It wasn’t what Jimin said, but how he said it—like he was telling a sweet story, not something indecent. It was dangerous. Addictive.
Then Jimin tilted his head, eyes flicking over Jungkook’s hood and mask. “Don’t tell me you plan on keeping those on while we fuck.”
Jungkook bit his lip hard. This was it. No turning back. Jimin was already in his car. If he chose to talk, Jungkook’s career could end overnight. Every headline tomorrow would scream about Jeon Jungkook sneaking around for sex.
His hands moved on their own, tugging off the hood, sliding the mask down. He lifted his gaze.
“Hello,” he murmured, voice hoarse.
For a moment, Jimin just stared. His eyes widened, recognition dawning instantly. Then, to Jungkook’s shock, he didn’t scream, didn’t gasp, didn’t even reach for his phone. Instead, Jimin leaned back into the seat, lollipop still perched between his lips.
“Jungkook,” he said slowly, as if testing the name on his tongue. “You’re Jeon Jungkook. Right?”
Jungkook’s stomach twisted. He bit down on his lower lip. Fuck.
“I can just take you home,” Jungkook offered quickly, shame creeping into his voice. “If this makes you uncomfortable—”
But Jimin turned to him, eyes sharp, lips quirking. “Why would it? Don’t you want to have sex with me anymore?”
Jungkook’s eyes went wide. “I—well, you know—uhh—”
Jimin cut him off smoothly, pulling the lollipop from his mouth with a soft pop. “Is it because you’re an actor? Don’t worry. I’m not a fan. I’ve just seen you on TV, that’s all. Honestly, I don’t care about your celebrity status.” He tilted his head, studying Jungkook. “But I am curious. Why risk this? You’re famous. Aren’t you scared I’ll leak everything?”
Jungkook’s throat bobbed. “Will you?”
Jimin laughed, light and careless. “What would I gain? I’m not looking for clout. And come on—sex is all I’m after. If anything, I got lucky tonight. Not everyone gets to fuck the Jeon Jungkook.”
The bluntness nearly made Jungkook choke. His ears burned as he coughed, fumbling for words. “Uhh… so, it’s fine then? You’re okay with this?”
Jimin grinned, leaning closer. “Do you have condoms? Should we do it here? Or…” he glanced at his watch, “we can move fast, since I have to be home early. I can’t stay too long.”
Jungkook’s gaze darted around the busy mall entrance. “Isn’t it too risky here?”
“Does your car move a lot when it shakes?” Jimin teased, licking the lollipop once more. “If you’re worried, we can head down to the basement parking lot. It’ll be quieter. Come on.”
Jungkook hesitated for a beat, his instincts screaming that this was insane. And yet, he found himself starting the engine. The Phantom glided forward, slipping down into the underground lot.
Beside him, Jimin reclined lazily, as if they weren’t about to cross every line Jungkook had been told never to touch.
And for the first time in years, Jungkook felt like he was no longer Jeon Jungkook, the idol actor.
He felt like a man chasing something forbidden.
The Phantom rolled quietly into the basement parking, the hum of the engine echoing off the concrete walls. Jungkook parked in a far corner where the lights were dim, out of sight from security cameras. His heart was pounding so hard it felt louder than the car’s idle.
Beside him, Jimin twirled the stick of his lollipop between his fingers, watching Jungkook with an amused glint in his eyes. “So… this is where the great Jeon Jungkook brings his strangers, huh?”
Jungkook turned off the engine and looked at him, pulse racing. “You’re not just a stranger.”
That made Jimin’s brows lift. “Oh? What am I then?”
Jungkook didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back against the seat, dragging in a breath like he was trying to steady himself. “You really don’t care who I am?”
Jimin leaned forward, close enough for Jungkook to smell the faint sweetness of candy on his breath. His voice dropped low. “Should I?”
The distance between them was gone before Jungkook realized it. Jimin’s hand slid over his hoodie, palm resting against his chest like he was testing the rapid thud of Jungkook’s heartbeat. “You’re nervous,” he teased.
Jungkook swallowed, the muscles in his throat tightening. “You’re… closer than I expected.”
Jimin smirked. “And you’re exactly as I expected.” His fingers trailed downward, light enough to send shivers through Jungkook’s body.
Jungkook shifted, torn between instinctively pulling away and wanting to give in. He’d kissed countless co-stars on set, held women under bright camera lights, but this was different. This wasn’t scripted. This was raw. Forbidden.
“Relax,” Jimin whispered, tilting his head. His lips brushed against Jungkook’s ear—just a featherlight tease. “We don’t need cameras here.”
The tinted windows turned the world outside into a blur. The car felt too small, too hot, like the air itself was charged. Jungkook let out a shaky breath and reached up, tugging the lollipop from Jimin’s hand. He tossed it aside, then cupped Jimin’s jaw.
The first kiss wasn’t neat or practiced. It was desperate, all teeth and uncertainty. Jimin laughed into his mouth, gripping Jungkook’s hoodie and pulling him closer across the console.
The car creaked faintly as their bodies shifted, tangled. Jimin climbed halfway onto Jungkook’s lap, his knees pressing into the seat. The faint smell of leather mixed with Jimin’s perfume—fresh, citrusy, intoxicating.
“You really were going to hide behind that mask, huh?” Jimin murmured against his lips, breath warm. “Good thing you took it off. Would’ve been a waste.”
Jungkook groaned, fingers tightening around Jimin’s waist. He’d spent years locked in control—contracts, scripts, managers breathing down his neck. But here, in the dim of his Phantom, with Jimin straddling him, he felt the chains loosen for the first time.
“Careful,” Jungkook muttered. His voice was low, rough. “If I start… I don’t know if I can stop.”
Jimin leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, smirk playful, daring. “Then don’t stop.”
The world tilted as their mouths found each other again, more urgent this time. Every movement, every press of lips, every breath shared between them filled the car with heat—promises of more, of release, of something neither of them planned but both desperately needed.
Jungkook’s breath came fast as Jimin settled fully on his lap, the weight of him grounding and electrifying all at once. The leather seat squeaked under their shifting bodies. Jimin’s thighs pressed tightly against Jungkook’s hips, trapping him.
The younger’s hands hesitated only for a second before gripping Jimin’s waist firmly, pulling him closer. He could feel the warmth of skin beneath the loose shirt, the soft drag of fabric against his palms.
Jimin tilted his head, lips swollen from their hungry kisses. “God, you taste better than I thought,” he whispered, voice low and rough around the edges. He rocked his hips slightly, testing Jungkook’s reaction.
A sharp hiss left Jungkook’s throat, his head tipping back against the seat. “Fuck…”
That reaction only made Jimin smirk, slow and dangerous. “Sensitive?” His fingers trailed down Jungkook’s chest, slipping beneath the hoodie, brushing over toned abs that twitched under his touch.
Jungkook caught his wrist, holding it tight. His eyes, dark and burning, locked onto Jimin’s. “Don’t tease me.”
Jimin only leaned in, lips ghosting Jungkook’s jawline, warm breath sending shivers down his neck. “Then make me stop.”
The challenge sparked something inside Jungkook. His self-control snapped. In one swift motion, he pulled Jimin closer, crashing their mouths together. The kiss was messy, wet, full of frustration and need. His free hand slid under Jimin’s shirt, fingers splaying across smooth skin, feeling every rise and fall of his breath.
The car’s interior grew hotter, air fogging faintly against the tinted windows. Jimin gasped when Jungkook’s lips moved down his neck, sucking lightly against sensitive skin. “Ah—” His hand gripped the younger’s shoulder for balance, nails pressing through the hoodie.
“Shh,” Jungkook murmured against his throat, voice husky. “You’ll make me lose it.”
Jimin laughed breathlessly, grinding down against him just enough to make Jungkook’s control crack further. “Isn’t that the point?”
The Phantom rocked slightly with their movements, the leather groaning as if it couldn’t handle their desperation. Jungkook’s hand tightened on Jimin’s hip, guiding him, while his lips traced every inch of skin he could reach.
Jimin’s lollipop sweetness was long gone, replaced with heat and the raw taste of desire. He pressed his forehead against Jungkook’s, panting. “I told you… we don’t have to waste time.”
Jungkook’s answer came in the form of another kiss, deeper, rougher, sealing the fact that there was no going back now. The rest of the world—his career, the risk, the consequences—faded into nothing.
Jimin shifted, his thighs tightening around Jungkook’s hips as the car seat dipped under their combined weight. The air inside the Phantom grew heavy, the faint hum of the engine and their ragged breathing filling the silence.
“Close the lights,” Jimin whispered, glancing at the faint glow from the dashboard. “Just in case.”
Jungkook quickly obeyed, plunging them into a dim, shadowy cocoon where only their silhouettes moved against each other. The outside world was invisible beyond the tinted glass, like they’d been swallowed whole by secrecy.
Jimin leaned forward again, lips brushing Jungkook’s ear. “Better.” His tone was playful, but the low timbre of his voice made Jungkook’s pulse stutter.
Their mouths crashed again, this time slower but deeper, tongues moving with deliberate hunger. Jimin’s hand slipped beneath Jungkook’s hoodie, fingers tracing the sharp lines of muscle, nails grazing his skin just enough to make him shiver.
“God, you’re warm,” Jimin murmured against his lips.
“And you’re…” Jungkook couldn’t finish, distracted as Jimin rolled his hips purposefully, dragging a moan out of him. He gripped Jimin’s waist tighter, as though anchoring himself before he completely unraveled.
The car groaned softly with every shift, the leather creaking under them, and the tinted windows began to cloud faintly with condensation.
Jimin broke the kiss, panting, his lips swollen. He let his head fall back slightly, exposing the pale curve of his neck. “Touch me more.”
That single plea unraveled whatever hesitation Jungkook had left. His hands roamed freely now, sliding under Jimin’s shirt, pushing it up to reveal smooth skin, warm under his palms. His lips followed, brushing over Jimin’s collarbone, leaving damp trails that made Jimin gasp and clutch at his hair.
The sound sent a sharp ache through Jungkook’s chest, somewhere between desire and awe. He couldn’t stop himself from pressing his mouth harder against Jimin’s skin, tasting, marking, savoring every reaction he drew.
“Shit,” Jimin whispered, voice breaking with a half-laugh. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”
Jungkook lifted his head, lips flushed, eyes darker than Jimin had ever seen. “Not with you.”
That answer earned him another slow grind of Jimin’s hips, both of them exhaling sharply at the friction. Their foreheads pressed together, their breaths mixing hot and unsteady.
The car became their cage. The tinted glass blurred with heat, their breath painting it opaque, their bodies pressed so close it felt impossible to breathe. Jungkook’s hands roamed with a hunger that bordered on violence, gripping Jimin like he might vanish if he loosened even a fraction.
“Fuck—” Jimin’s voice broke into a moan, knees buckling when Jungkook’s mouth found the curve of his neck, biting hard enough to make the singer gasp and arch back. His fingers clawed at Jungkook’s shoulders, leaving red crescents against sweat-damp skin.
The Phantom rocked violently, suspension groaning as Jungkook set a brutal pace. Every thrust shook the car, every sound swallowed by their mingled gasps and choked cries. Jimin’s palms slammed against the fogged window for balance, the glass rattling beneath his trembling hands.
Jimin’s head fell back against his shoulder, lips parted, his moan shattering the tight air. “Oh my god—”
The sound undid him. Jungkook’s rhythm grew wild, punishing, their gasps tangled in the suffocating dark until the world narrowed to nothing but their bodies colliding, desperate and unrelenting.
The car rocked harder, the tempo messy now, a spiral toward the inevitable. Jimin’s body shook in his grip, his cries muffled against Jungkook’s shoulder, and still he held him tighter, as if the world outside didn’t exist.
When it finally broke, it was chaos. The car jolted with their last violent movements before collapsing into stillness, leaving only fogged windows, the heavy stench of sweat and lust, and the deafening sound of their uneven breathing.
Both of them were still catching their breath, their bodies heavy with exhaustion and heat. The air inside the car was thick, fogging slightly on the windows, the only sounds were the hum of the air conditioner and the pounding rhythm of their hearts.
Jungkook quickly grabbed a bottle of water from the console and handed it to Jimin, his hand trembling just a little.
“Thanks,” Jimin murmured with a small smile, taking the bottle. He unscrewed the cap and drank slowly, his throat bobbing with each swallow before he set it down and reached for a tissue to clean himself. He did it so casually, like he wasn’t just in the backseat of a stranger’s luxury car with sweat still clinging to his skin.
Jungkook wanted to help, to offer something more than awkward stares, but he didn’t know what to do. He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed.
“You’re… too gentle and too wild at the same time.” Jimin laughed, light and unbothered, the sound playful as if they hadn’t just crossed every possible line.
Jungkook’s stomach growled suddenly, breaking the silence. He winced, mortified. “I suddenly got hungry. Maybe I should just drop you off? I want to eat before I head home.”
Jimin tilted his head, eyes narrowing with mischief. “Or… do you mean you want a round two?”
Jungkook nearly choked on his own spit as he reached for his bottle of water. He coughed so hard Jimin leaned forward, worried, before laughing again when Jungkook waved him off.
“Sorry!” Jimin grinned, biting the straw of the water bottle.
Jungkook wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, cheeks hot. “I just— I don’t even know how I’m supposed to sneak you around without people noticing, but… please, at least let me buy you dinner.”
For the first time, Jimin was quiet, looking at him thoughtfully, almost unreadable. He finally sighed and gave a small nod. “Fine.”
Jungkook exhaled in relief and started the engine, driving them toward his hotel penthouse. The ride was quiet, Jimin staring out the window, humming softly under his breath, while Jungkook kept sneaking glances at him, wondering if he regretted everything that just happened.
When they pulled into the hotel basement, Jungkook parked in his private slot and turned to him.
“Can I ask you something? Could you wait in the lobby for a moment? My best friend’s going to meet you there. It’s safer if we don’t walk in together.”
Jimin bit his lip, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Honestly, it’s fine if I just go home, Jungkook.”
“No,” Jungkook said quickly, more desperate than he intended. “You need to eat before you leave. Please?”
The sincerity in his tone must have convinced him, because Jimin finally nodded. Without another word, he slipped out of the car and headed toward the other entrance of the hotel, disappearing inside.
Jungkook immediately pulled out his phone and dialed Jin.
“Hello? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t want to be bothered tonight. Why are you bothering me now?” Jin’s voice was half annoyed, half concerned.
Jungkook shut his eyes, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. “I need you. Please, come to my hotel right now.”
“What happened? Are you alright?”
“I’ll explain later. Just… I really need you here.”
When Jungkook hung up, he messaged Jimin, telling him to expect Jin, his manager—and closest friend—to meet him in the lobby. The idea made Jimin a little uneasy. Why involve his manager? But still, he stayed.
By the time Jungkook had showered and changed into fresh clothes, he received another message. Namjoon and Jin had already arrived and were bringing Jimin up to his penthouse.
His chest tightened with nerves as he descended the stairs, only to find the three of them comfortably sitting in the living room, chatting as though they were old friends.
“We picked up some food on the way,” Jin said, his gaze sharp as it landed on Jungkook. “Spicy squid with pork belly and jajangmyeon. That’s what Jimin wanted.” His tone carried a weight, an unspoken we needed to talk.
“Can I talk to you?” Jin asked next, rising to his feet.
Jungkook nodded quickly, and the two of them slipped upstairs, leaving Namjoon and Jimin at the dining table.
The second the door closed, Jin crossed his arms. “What is this, Jungkook?”
Jungkook bit his lower lip, guilt flashing across his face. “We… we fucked.”
Jin ran a hand down his face, groaning. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you know how dangerous that was? Do you know what could happen if this gets out?”
“I was— I was horny, okay? And he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Jesus Christ, Jungkook.” Jin paced, exasperated. “I mean… Jimin looks trustworthy, sure, but that’s not enough. We need protection. We need to draw up an NDA. If this goes public, your entire career could implode overnight.”
“I know,” Jungkook whispered. His shoulders sagged. “I know it was stupid. I just… I wanted to feel like a normal guy for once.”
Jin’s eyes softened for a moment, but he shook his head. “It already happened. We can’t take it back. What we can do is make sure it doesn’t ruin you. So talk to him. Be honest. Find out what he wants. And then I’ll handle the paperwork.”
Jungkook swallowed hard, nodding. His pulse hammered in his ears. Downstairs, Jimin was waiting—beautiful, unpredictable Jimin—and Jungkook had no idea if this was the start of a bigger mess, or the start of something else entirely.
After finishing his meal, Jimin wiped his mouth delicately with a napkin, thanked Namjoon politely, and excused himself when Jungkook called him upstairs.
“Hey, Jungkook,” Jimin greeted as he stepped into the quiet room. His tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp, observant.
Jungkook looked pale, nervous. His hands fidgeted against his jeans before he finally spoke. “Can we… talk?”
Jimin tilted his head. “Sure.”
Jungkook inhaled, trying to gather courage. “I know it sounds crazy, maybe even harsh, but… my manager needs assurance from you. And I know it must feel ridiculous.”
Jimin shook his head lightly. “It’s fine. Jin mentioned it earlier downstairs. I don’t mind.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Oh… uhh…” He hadn’t expected Jimin to be so direct about it.
Jimin crossed his arms, leaning casually against the wall. “Just tell me, Jungkook. What do you want?”
Jungkook swallowed, his throat dry. “Well… the sex was… really fucking good and, uh—”
Jimin smirked. “You want it to happen again?”
Jungkook’s jaw clenched, heat rushing to his ears. “Actually… I know it’s weird asking, especially since we literally just met. But… uhh—”
Jimin laughed, the sound unguarded, playful. “Why are you stuttering? Do you want me to be your whore?”
“No—it’s not like that,” Jungkook said quickly, his voice sharp with panic.
Jimin only laughed harder, shaking his head. “Relax. I don’t care about your job, Jungkook. But if we’re going to continue this… I only want one thing from you. My protection. That’s it. I can handle protecting you on my side—I honestly don’t give a damn about who you are on TV. What I do care about is my own privacy. I value it, deeply. And I know you do too. So, you’re safe with me.”
Jungkook stared at him, caught off guard by the seriousness that had slipped into Jimin’s voice.
Jimin sighed softly, glancing at the clock. “I was planning to go home tonight. But if there’s paperwork involved—and I’m sure there will be—then I’ll extend my stay here in the hotel I booked. That way, it’s easier for you and your manager to sort it out.”
“I’ll pay for your room. Everything,” Jungkook blurted out before he could stop himself.
Jimin raised an eyebrow, lips quirking. “Wow. Are you my sugar daddy now?”
The word hit Jungkook harder than he expected, sending a shiver through him, heat curling low in his stomach. He swallowed thickly, eyes darkening before he could mask it.
“Jimin…”
Jimin chuckled, clearly noticing the reaction but letting it slide. “I’m kidding. Don’t look so scandalized.” He pushed himself off the wall and stretched. “So, are we done here? I’ll talk to Jin myself about my rules. I think it’ll be easier that way.”
Jungkook could only nod, still rattled, his chest tight with things he couldn’t even name.
Jin was already waiting in the living room when Jimin came down the stairs. He had that manager look—arms folded, sharp gaze, a presence that filled the room with unspoken authority. Namjoon was still there too, quietly sipping his drink, but the energy had shifted.
Jungkook trailed behind Jimin, his chest tight, unsure if this was going to end in disaster.
“Jimin,” Jin started, his voice steady but firm. “I think we should talk. Privately, if you don’t mind.”
Jimin shrugged easily, dropping onto the couch like he owned the place. “No problem. Jungkook can stay, though. He’s the reason we’re here, isn’t he?”
Jin hesitated, then nodded. “Fair enough.” He sat across from him, clasping his hands together. “I’ll be blunt. Jungkook’s career is built on an image that can’t afford cracks. One rumor, one leak—and everything falls apart. So I need to know if you’re a risk.”
Jimin smirked faintly. “I figured that much already. And no, I’m not a risk. I told Jungkook upstairs, I don’t care about his career. I don’t care about the fandoms, the contracts, or the gossip. All I care about is my own privacy.”
Jin studied him, silent. The room felt heavy, tense.
“You say that now,” Jin replied carefully, “but people change their minds. Situations change. So if this… whatever this is… continues, I’ll need you to sign an NDA. It protects you as much as it protects him.”
Jimin leaned back, one arm draped lazily over the couch, his eyes glinting with amusement. “An NDA, huh? Makes sense. I was already expecting that.”
That calmness—like he wasn’t intimidated at all—unsettled Jungkook. Most people froze under Jin’s glare, but Jimin… he almost looked entertained.
“What are your conditions, then?” Jin pressed.
Jimin tapped his finger against his thigh. “Simple. You want me quiet, you want me invisible. Fine. The only condition I have is my privacy, that’s all.”
Jungkook flinched at the bluntness. Jin’s brow arched, but to his surprise, he didn’t argue.
“And,” Jimin added, his tone softening just slightly, “if Jungkook and I decide to… keep seeing each other, then that’s between the two of us. You manage him, not me. I’m not one of your artists. I don’t belong to your system.”
The room went quiet. Jin leaned back, exhaling slowly.
“You’re bold,” he said finally.
Jimin smirked, unbothered. “I’m honest. That’s rarer than bold.”
Jin glanced at Jungkook, who was staring at Jimin with something close to awe. He’d never seen anyone stand toe-to-toe with Jin like this—not without breaking a sweat.
“Fine,” Jin said at last. “We’ll draft the NDA tomorrow. Minimal restrictions. Just enough to keep Jungkook’s name clean. You’ll have your privacy. But if you cross him, if you cross us—”
“I won’t,” Jimin interrupted smoothly, his tone final. “I told you. I value my privacy too much. I won’t waste it for drama.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and certain.
For the first time that night, Jungkook’s shoulders loosened. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until it escaped in a shaky exhale.
Jin stood, nodding curtly. “Then we have an understanding.”
Jimin smiled faintly, popping a candy into his mouth like the conversation hadn’t just decided the fate of Jungkook’s career. “Guess we do.”