Yoonmin Au 🔞 Jimin’S Had A Crush On His Hyung For A While


twitter thread from 🍥Mal⁷

yoonmin au 🔞

jimin’s had a crush on his hyung for a while. it’s a secret he’s kept to himself, and he has no qualms to reveal it—until he accidentally walks in on yoongi. it’s to his greater horror when jimin hears his song Promise playing in the background

#yoonmin #yoonminau


— idols!ym
— unresolved sexual tension
— canon compliant; think 2018
— songs can have double meanings, hehe
— mature content 🔞🔞🔞

overdue and self-indulgent for @mimimichi4 and myself, and because she promised me her first born 😁

Growing up around, and spending a greater portion of his years with someone like Yoongi has taught Jimin one thing: that it’s not an easy job trying to conceal an erection.

And especially when there’s attraction involved.

Jimin always thought that he had something special in his heart reserved for boys, perhaps longer than he can remember.

Living with Min Yoongi unfurled those feelings for him in a way he couldn’t have imagined; of hidden urges that wouldn’t have made sense outside of their dorm.

Perhaps it’s the way his hyung has so much t when it comes to the way , or the way he has so much trust in the members, how he always makes sure he shows them he appreciates them.
Perhaps it’s the way he puts others first, going as far as offering to cook for them after dance practice when everyone is drained, or when he would rather play a song on his guitar when Jimin is feeling low and he needs comfort more than someone to talk to.
And the crooning of his deep voice is just the comfort Jimin needs at the end of a long day, wrapping himself around it like he would in a warm blanket.

And when Jimin needs someone to talk to, Yoongi is always there with a shoulder to listen.

So, if Jimin is attracted to Yoongi, it’s not Just physically. It’s a lot of things about him that makes him attractive.

But right now, it’s /definitely/ his physicality.

Perhaps, if he were to put it lightly, it’s simply the way his hyung looks so good at all times of the day. When he’s in his studio making music, when he’s in the kitchen, when he’s goofing around and acting silly, when he looks extremely good in a photoshoot.
So, as Jimin stands in the shower trying to ease the hardness between his legs, he obviously thinks about Yoongi.

He thinks about Yoongi, and about Yoongi’s hands; how good they’d probably feel when flexing down on his cock to please him.

Yoongi’s hands have their own specialty to them, something Jimin hasn’t noticed in other hands. He’s in a position where he’s attracted to them, which shouldn’t be real but it is. Much like how he’s attracted to almost every part of Yoongi.
When Jimin starts to reach his peak, he doesn’t stop thinking about Yoongi’s hands, and Yoongi’s voice, and Yoongi.

Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.

Yoongi had just told Jimin that he’s doing well during their practises, preparing for a second version of his first mixtape.

He rubbed his nape with the firm tips of his fingers, kneading the tight muscles and loosening any knots that had been tightened around Jimin’s neck.

Jimin shivers at the reminiscent touch of Yoongi’s hand, his fingers… then his voice telling him all those sweet and encouraging things as he teasingly admired Jimin in the mirror, commending his hard work, before heading out to do his own things, probably working on some songs.
Jimin left and did /his/ own things as well.

No matter how different both pastimes turned out to be.

Images of the older sweating behind Jimin as he admired him from the mirror fill Jimin’s head.

Yoongi tends to come to practise with black pants or shorts; it’s kind of his staple, just how wearing suits is Taehyung’s, and large oversized shirts is Jungkook’s, and beanies and hats are Hoseok’s.
And Yoongi makes the pants look good’ at least Jimin thinks so.

Of course he does; if not, he wouldn’t be so affected by it.

So, as always, Jimin thinks of Yoongi.

With his black pants, dancing away in the practise room, sweating out the moves as perspiration makes his just as black hair cling to his forehead and nape.

He imagines Yoongi with the pants off, sweating because of something else.

Jimin’s lips stutter around a fuck, harshly stroking his cock, and tries desperately to convince himself not to give in so quickly after jerking off just last night.

Thinking of his hyung yet again.

But he doesn’t do so well in that, and when his balls tighten, Jimin doesn’t bother anymore, and fucks his hand faster.

Cum streaks the wall, painting it white, and he drags his hand down the cleaner side of it in attempts to keep himself steady.

Then, Jimin slumps against the wall with heavy breaths escaping his mouth, trying to catch them.

So much for having wet dreams about his hyung.

It’s seemingly worse that Jimin has to go about his days thinking of Yoongi, and jerking off to the many conscious thoughts he has of him.

After his shower, Jimin orders lunch with Hoseok.

Hoseok doesn’t have anything planned for later, seeing as it’s a Sunday, and the shooting of their concept photos resume from Monday. They ordered fried rice, having that while lounging in the older’s recording studio.

“Are you going to see Yoongi-hyung later?”

Jimin’s eyebrows draw in, and with a mouthful, asks, “Why are you asking me that?”

Hoseok casually shrugs, biting from his drumstick. “Hyung is busy with making a mixtape these days. Says he hopes to release another already.”

“So he has a lot of material just hanging around. You know, he’s always writing and producing so it’s an influx of lyrics and sounds and melodies,” Hoseok pokes the bone at Jimin who frowns at him. “You should go see him about that song he promised you.”
Jimin shakes his head. “I think he only said that to me to tease the air. Probably our fans too,” He rests back on the couch and drops his head. Staring at the ceiling, Jimin says, “That man is never going to give me my song.”
Hoseok’s laughter steals Jimin’s attention, and he takes it away from the drawings to the man’s mouth, peals of laughter escaping his heart-shaped lips that curve high at the corners, dawning in amusement.

“So possessive, Jimin-ah,” he teases. “/Your/ song.”

Jimin blinks. “I mean,” he sighs. “he said he’d give me one. I’m just using the correct references.”

With that, Hoseok simply laughs again. “Hopefully he keeps his promise and gives you one, yeah?”

Jimin pouts and petulantly crosses his arms. “He better. I’m getting impatient.”


Jimin wraps up recording at around 9PM. It’s late, he’s tired and voice-weary, and he hasn’t had a meal since that lunch with Hoseok, save for a few in-between snacks that Taehyung had bought the two of them while they worked together on their sub-unit song.

“I’ll try and redo this part here?” Jimin calls out from the booth, referring to his second verse that requires a bit of belting he’s been struggling to perfect lately.

When the producer gives his quota, he nods and thanks him, then packs any valuable items up and heads out.

Taehyung left a few minutes ago because he had to meet with some of his friends to celebrate one of their acting achievements, so Jimin is on his own heading back to their dorm after clearing out from the studio.
A few technicians stay behind, having to tweak the sound next to the producer, so he bows and thanks them too on his way out.

Even at this time, it’s still clear to tell that many of the staffs and other groups are working on their craft, trying to perfect it.

Jimin suddenly thinks about Yoongi, whether he had decided to stay behind and do the same thing; he’s been working really hard on this mixtape lately, and on Tuesday he mentioned in passing that he sleeps in his studio sometimes trying to master the music and test out techniques.
There’s no mixtape scheduled to come out soon, with the group’s own release nearing, but Jimin still tries his best to extend an arm of support here and there; encouraging words, offering to dance along to some of the songs for fun, staying up and talking till early morning…
He wonders if he visits Yoongi now, there would be space for that.

Jimin is tired, but not if it means he gets to spend relative time with his hyung.

That sounds really nice.

Jimin makes his way to the elevator, and leads himself up to the tenth floor where Genius Lab is. He realises that he doesn’t have anything he can give Yoongi when he gets there.

But Yoongi said once he’s not too picky about gifts of sorts.

Also, when he allows people past the doorframe of his studio, food isn’t allowed, only beverages—bottled water, or coffee specifically in a flask. But sometimes he forgets because he’s so engrossed in his work; as long as his visitors don’t make a mess.
Jimin is lucky because he knows Yoongi’s studio password.

When he steps out of the elevator, muscle memory happily leading him down the corridor towards Genius Lab, he punches the numbers in the keypad on the silver frame, and waits for the system to calibrate his input.

The door pings him in and he’s able to push it open. Jimin can’t hear anything from this point because there’s extensive sound proofing inside, which Jimin understands. And even when he opens it a little, he’d have to step inside entirely and close the door.
That’s why he’s slightly taken aback when he hears as muffled groan briefly pass into his ears after he pushes his hand down on the handle, the low, almost gutteral sound of it slipping through the small crack in the door.
But it gets stranger.

Promise is playing softly in the speakers of Yoongi’s studio; of course Jimin recognises his own song.

“Fuck, /Jimin/–”

Jimin’s body stiffens, and his blood runs cold.

small cliffhanger IM SORRY but i have to run somewhere, i just wanted to post one half and then will come back in 1-2 hours for the last half, promise 🫂

o and thenk for reading x

note: i won’t delete the above tweet bc the quotes on there made me giggle

His breathing steeps in his chest and his palms sweat, heat surging through his body, and embarrassingly, arousal churns in his gut as what had come out of Yoongi’s mouth registers in his head.

He can’t believe it.

So disbelieving, Jimin just nods dumbly, as though called towards Yoongi with the way his name had been huskily uttered from his lips, and mutters, “Hyung…”

Jimin hears himself—loud and clear.

And when Yoongi seems to hear him, Jimin sees him jolt in his chair. His shoulders shoot up and his head whips to the back. Suddenly he’s spinning around and his arms aren’t hidden anymore, hands clutched firmly around the rests of his chair.


Yoongi’s face is flushed, his eyes are dazed. He fixes the beanie on his head, pulling it down over his dampened hair. When he turns towards Jimin with his full body, swivelling on the wheels of his chair, he obviously catches Jimin looking at him, eyes wide, mouth a bit parted.
Jimin only hangs back, shifting from one foot to the other.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, voice panic-stricken and edged around confusion. He scrambles to his feet, and when he does Jimin eyes flick down to his waist, where Yoongi adjust the strings of his sweats.


He’s wearing black sweatpants.

Jimin’s throat tightens when he spots something he knows he shouldn’t but somehow can’t help himself from staring at it. It’s raised between Yoongi’s legs, a visible tent that only solidifies what Jimin thinks he was doing.

And if it’s real, and all of this isn’t a fever dream—Jimin hadn’t been feeling too well since that hamburger he had with Hoseok; illusory images and events may be a consequence to that.
If it is real, then Yoongi had been busy in his studio… jerking off and mounting on private relief, with Jimin’s song in the background.

Doing it with Jimin on his mind.

The faintest memory of Yoongi groaning out his name makes Jimin squeak and he tightens his grip on the bag he’d come with. Suddenly the sound proof pads on the walls work harder than they should, and Jimin’s sanity muffles in his brain.
Jimin’s eyes hazily follow Yoongi walking up to him with rushed steps, trying not to put too much focus on himself and what he was doing. Standing directly in front of him, he breathily asks, “What’s wrong?”

Jimin blinks, and just as breathily responds, “I can help you.”

It’s not something he had planned to say.

It just came out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Yoongi’s already pale face blanches, and he swallows heavily before asking, “What?”

Listen, Jimin can’t be one to judge anyone in this situation. Just this morning he had done the exact same, having indecent thoughts about Yoongi and fixing the problem his own way.

There are two options:

pretending this never happened.

or, killing two birds with one stone.

“What do you mean help me?”

Jimin purses his lips and takes one step forward. The tension is thick, Promise still plays in the background, but the light ballad and it’s sweetness aren’t enough to mellow the situation. Jimin gulps. “With… what you were doing.”

Yoongi looks like he glitches. He rubs his forehead and scratches his brow, low voice obviously asking, “Making music?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Thinking about me.”

Yoongi looks as tortured as he sounds. “Fuck, Jimin…”

Jimin takes another step forward, “Yeah, that’s how you said it.” He’s trying to be vocal, though his lips are quivering and his words aren’t as pronounced. “When you were thinking about me doing stuff to you.” He pauses, keeping his eyes fixed on Yoongi. “And you to me.”
Whether something happens right now or not, they’ve already crossed many boundaries and there isn’t any going back. Jimin is fuelled by the curiosity of it all and Yoongi is too deep into the moment to keep his arousal at bay.

Something flashes in his eyes.

He doesn’t miss it.

Still, he hesitates. “We shouldn’t,” he says. “Well I—“ He gulps and completes his sentence. “I shouldn’t agree to it.”

Jimin grips onto his wrists, pulling it forward. “But you want to?”

“Do you?”

He’s quick to answer. “I do.”

Time stills. Everything is barely perceptible.

Save for the way Jimin’s warm fingers rub deftly on the bone of his wrist. What he says comes out as a fairly timidly, but even though there’s a tremulous pitch to his words, Jimin still tugs Yoongi’s wrist until he’s able to unfurl his clenched hand, and pry his fingers apart.
“Tell me hyung,” Jimin whispers, and the eye contact he maintains makes the padding on the walls vibrate a little with the tension of the room. It’s like the walls are breathing with him. He keeps the crashing nerves at bay, and leads their hands lower… pressed on his crotch.
yg’s eyes are blown wide, but jm only pushes his hand and cradles yg’s bulge under his palm.

Despite how fast his heart is beating, he’s pleased to feel him hard, and his pants are stretched around it, cock pulling taut on them, eager to break free.

“let me help you,” jm whispers.

yg chuckles wryly. “you’re being really shameless.”

jm draws his bottom lip between his teeth. “doesn’t hyung like that?”

and the glint that flashes in his eyes determines the answer for jm before yg reels it in and accepts it.

he doesn’t discard the idea.

instead, his hand falls on jm’s shoulder, fingers brushing against the open skin of jm’s neck, thumb grazing his collar. jm shivers, inadvertently squeezing yg in his hand. his head falls forward and he pinches jm’s shoulder with a groan.

“okay, fuck—“ he hisses when jm starts massaging him over his pants, fanning the flames, chasing something forbidden. yg looks back and his eyes are clouded. jm gulps. it’s an intense stare that tells him most of everything. “If you want… yeah, go ahead and help me, jm-ah.”
every one of jm’s senses are alerted, skin prickling at the raspy sound of yg’s voice, hand burning at how it’s entwined with yg’s as the older is the one who now guides them with swift motions over his clothed cock.

blood reaches his own, and he releases a soft sigh.

at the prospect of being with yg, his longtime secret crush—in his studio, and it’s late at night, and they’re locked in, and not a single person is ever going to find out that this is how they’ve decided to spend quality time together.
before he completely registers entirely what’s going on, yg’s already walking them back to his chair. he can’t think about their holding hands, because instinct tell him drop to the floor.

jm is wiggling under yg’s work desk, settling on his shins, positioned between his knees.

he’s patient at first when yg doesn’t do anything, averting any eye contact. but then the song ends and it’s silent and it’s all weird between them, sneaking shy glances at each other.

jm hasn’t ever done anything like this before; he’s never been the one on his knees.

excitement and anxiety prance sprightly in his chest, all things good and bad and wrong and right.

“you okay?” yg asks.

he must be feeling the same. jm nods. “hyung, i’m good.” he brushes his hair out of his face and adds, “it’ll probably be good.”

yg huffs. “probably.”

when the song starts right over, jm is as startled as the first time. his eyes shoot to Yoongi’s, who’s now pacing about with red cheeks to most likely change the song. “sorry about that.”

but then jm’s hand is on his thigh, and he whispers, “it’s okay.”

jm looks up at the face he’s come to adore so much over the past years, someone he morally and emotionally looks up to as well. he looks just how jm always pictures him; sweet, considerate, the one who’s always showed him the best way to be a good human.

it feels weirdly serene.

even though jm is well aware that he’s about to suck dick.
after mulling it over, yg nods and leaves the song. when he places himself in his chair, he pushes back. albeit, he still looks pretty agitated, rigid in his seat, not quite knowing what to do.

it’s obvious that they’re both too nervous and shy to speak much.

with yg looking back at his door more often than not, and him rubbing his hands up and down his thighs.

and there’s a lot of fear packed into doing what they’re about to do.

But jm knows he’s dreamt of a moment like this, and he’s not willing to let it slip through his fingers.

maybe he’s just being horny.

but it is yg after all.

jm tries to ease him into it but suddenly yg seems like he’s needy to rush through the whole process, stretching his lips into an awkward smile as he hastily pulls his sweats over his hips.

jm’s mouth waters when an angry cock springs out, unwarned, totally to his surprise.

but he hadn’t expected less; of course his hyung is big.

“you can just…” yg sinks in his chair, jm watches him wrap his hands around the base of his cock. “Want help or something?”

jm doesn’t know what to answer, staring at the pink head of his cock and tracing the veins with his gaze; how they line around his pale length. there’s a thick liquid spreading from the tip, precum dripping as his cock rouses for a release.

“I’ll just… I’ll put it in my mouth.”

yg’s chuckle is rough and raspy. it does something to jm’s brain, and his compensates such awareness with a sudder and extra tight squeeze of his thighs.

“That’s what’s expected of you.”

jm digs his nails into his palms.

the gaze jm gives him must catch him off guard because he retracts his statement and says, “But we’ll help each other, yeah?” jm nods rapidly to reassure him. “just follow my lead.”

this should be weird, he should feel revolted at doing this with him, but yg isn’t.

he’s far from it. it only reinforces the fact yg’s been anticipating something like this as much as jm has, for a long time.

jm’s heart is a host to the warm that evokes in him.

So, he arches his back when yg signals for him to come closer, crooking his finger subtly.

he brings his face near, curved under the table. his palms are on his knees, yg’s hand on the top of his head, and it’s quiet, and all that’s heard is the light instruments of jm’s song.

he holds his breath, until his lips meet with the tip of his cock, and everything explodes in jm’s head. he tries not to gasp, despite the foreign feeling, and works with yg who frets at pushing his head further down.

but he feels it, too.

“ah, fuck—“

The sound of his moan instantly eggs jm on, and he shifts onto his knees, wiggling out from under the table to position himself better between yg’s legs. His hand falls on his pale thigh, squeezing the soft muscle of it in his hand, and he caresses his skin.

yg’s sensitive; he curses under his breath and slightly shudders when jm leaves another kiss on his tip, wet and warm over the red bulge of it.

“hyung feels okay?” jm manages, tilting his head to the side to kiss down the side of his cock.

“better than okay.”

and when yg’s other hand falls to the back of his neck—notwithstanding the quick movement of running his fingers through jm’s hair—jm takes him in his mouth, and starts bobbing up and down, like he’s seen in the videos he searches up when he wants to imagine himself with yg.
now he doesn’t have to imagine, and it feels like a fever dream.
yg’s hot groans in his ears, the way jm crunches the waistband of his sweats in his hands when scrambling to hold onto something, the heavy weight of yg’s hand pushing him down, as though his intention is to get jm choking when his smooth head reaches the back of his throat.
and jm does, coughing around his cock, sloppily pulling back to regulate his breathing.

when that happens, yg hesitates and lifts his palm up. but jm quickly glances up to say with his eyes that he’s okay, gives a haste nod, and dives back down.

until he’s sucking him off again, making him feel good.

yg shouldn’t feel so good in his mouth, but he does, clean shaven skin of his cock rubbery on jm’s tongue. the softness of his tip grazing at the back of his throat starts to get ticklish with every slow pull back.

before jm sinks back down and gags himself on his dick. the music still plays in the background, adding to the dreamlike feeling that accompanies what jm’s doing with his hyung.
“you’re … wow, fuck, this feels good…” yg sounds like he’s panting, and when his breath stutters after his words, jm determines he is. “you’re – doing so good.”

Jimin swirls his tongue around his length as he leisurely slides up, adorably and muffles, “Hyung makes it easy.”

his lips tighten around him and he drags his head back, which makes yg groan out in pleasure.

it’s nice hearing him do that, throaty sounds that come from his pleasure. yg’s hand grips the top of his head, thumb pressing into jm’s forehead to guide him forward again.

jm does so with a moan, the light hum of it vibrating around yg’s cock that’s already twitching in his mouth.

at that moment, « I just wanna blow your mind » sings through low speakers, and jm tries not to snort at the lyric.

he had asked nj for help on the translations, and now he knows the double meaning that may come with the lyric.

it’s courtesy of the older joking about it when they had been wasted a little too much on Soju and the process of writing a song together.

« I wanna blow you »

“You’ve done this before?” yg rasps, and when jm’s eyes flick up he’s staring into a pair of very dark, hooded ones.

he shakes his head, and pulls yg out with a wet pop. jm inhales a breath through his mouth.

he wraps his hand around yg’s cock, and strokes him once. yg visibly gulps, and jm feels his hips tense as he tries not to rut them up.

jm innocently answers, “No but,” and his smirk is devious when he kisses yg’s tip. “i’ve thought about doing it. to you specifically.”

yg’s jaw clenches, and he hums. “how many times?”

“too many to count.”

yg reaches down and thumbs jm’s lips, passing the pad over the soft plumpness of the bottom one, and huffs, “Well,” his voice is coarse, trying to navigate himself.

probably still trying to adjust to for the reality of having jm sucking his cock under his recording table, his legs spread wide as the younger rolls him in his palm slowly, and new song replacing Promise once it fizzle out.

he pokes jm’s lip. “You’re pretty good at it.”

jm knows precisely how much this is affecting yg, because there must be a torn feeling inside him still trying admit that he’s getting pleasured by his band mate’s mouth in his goddamn studio.

It has all the taboos to it.

but that falls away when he curtly he clutches jm’s hair in his hands and rams his cock up. jm knows what’s about to come, despite gagging at the intrusion. but nothing prepares him for the way yg forces his cock out and points it at his face.
cum surprisingly spills on his nose, lips, and cheeks.

intermittent groans cover his words as yg murmurs an apology, but jm is too entranced by how intense his hyung’s orgasm plays out to care about it.

his cock stirs in his jeans.

he looks amazing.

jm tries to recreate something he saw in a video once; he takes yg’s cock and leads it back to his mouth while it’s still spurting ropes of white at the tip. he presses the centre of his tongue on it, and yoongi /moans/.

“s– shit,” he squeezes out.

jm swirls his tongue in his wet, warm head, sucking on the cum that spreads along his lips and toying with his sensitive cock. he palms himself over his jeans, presses yg in his hand, and sucks him clean

until a hand pushes his forehead gently back, “you did good, you did good.”

he’s a mess—cheeks pink, skin glistening and wet, hair crumpled under his beanie with the black strands clinging to the edges of his forehead. he keeps on cursing, breathing jm’s name out in the process.

fir a brief moment, their eyes meet.

yg reaches his final peak when jm swipes cum on his finger and pulls it into his mouth. It mixes with what he was already going to swallow, and he tries his best to look seductive without doing too much, showing off the skill he’d retained for so long, waiting for one person.
his eyes roll to the back of his skull, head dropped on his chair, yg comes for a second time, a little weaker than the first, until he gives in to the exhaustion of it all.

jm sits there on his knees, going through everything in between.

It’s quiet for a bit, and Yoongi’s eyes are closed, still trying to gather everything that had accumulated into such a small space of time.

Jimin, although in the midst of a euphoric mind with his cock tight in his jeans, seeking something to help it down, feels awfully giddy.

Yoongi speaks up first.

All the breaths have been knocked from him as he says, “You should clean up.”

Jimin dazedly gazes forward, and when he drags the back of his hand down his cheek, he sighs out, “Ah, right.”

After taking one for himself, Yoongi passes him a tissue paper that’s streaked from the box on the top shelf of his desk. Jimin humbly gets to his feet, still pressing the paper over his chin. But then he trips on his shoe laces, falling forward with a yelp.
Jimin’s hovering over Yoongi, fingers clenching on the armrests when he considers their closeness. There’s still cum on his lips; he hadn’t wiped it off in time because he feels the silky consistency of it and smells it too, the salty fragrance of it wafting in his senses.
Yoongi stares at Jimin’s lips.

Jimin nearly slips into his chair when Yoongi captures them between his own. Wet and open-mouthed, hot and breathy

His hand is on his nape again, pinching in, while his mouth moves against Jimin’s, tasting himself on the younger, teeth nibbling on his lips every now and then, tongue licking the inner folds of them.
Jimin, with the urge of doing so rendering him more light-headed, tries not to faint, and he hears his breathing in his ears, blood rushing in the canals of them.

There’s one thing sucking him off.

Kissing Yoongi feels better than whatever he’d imagined, in his dreams and out.

Yoongi’s arm wraps around his waist and he pulls Jimin onto his lap, ignoring the fact that he hasn’t yet pulled his sweats up. Jimin tumbles forward, legs tangled between the older as he drops down with much balance stopping him.

Or reason.

Reason falls out the window with Yoongi.

There’s space between their mouths when Jimin comes to, hot breath curling over his mouth as Yoongi stares up at him. His hold on his waist tightens, and Jiming watches his throat rise slowly then fall once he swallows.

Promise isn’t playing in the background anymore.

Right now, it’s a track Jimin hasn’t heard before.

It must be a demo or backing melody Yoongi’s still working on.

There’s a combination of different sounds on it, birds chirping and something that sounds like the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Until Yoongi’s voice comes on, and he’s singing a single line with his voice a little autotuned on a machine. There’s a guitar, a piano, wind or percussion instruments of some sorts.

Just all very liberating.

So, with very little holding him back, Jimin wraps his free arm around Yoongi’s shoulders, cups his cheek in his palm, angles his head to the right, leans in, and kisses Yoongi again.

And Yoongi’s response is what he had hoped it to be.

There’s no tongue, nothing too harsh like when Jimin was sucking him off under the table, but something actually… sweet.
And, if Jimin is being honest, kissing Yoongi—with his unreleased song streaming in the air like fizzling clouds in an empty, fairly mundane blue sky—is the best kind of release he could have found after tonight.

Almost a week goes by, and Jimin can’t stop thinking about what happened.

And when he does manage to stop thinking about it, he actively searches for reasons that will allow him to think about it again; over and over again until his heart skids across his chest and his face hurts from giggling so much and his brain turns rotten.
His showers are much more entertaining, too, now that he has raw material to work with.


He’s on his way from the recording room when Yoongi calls out to him.

Jimin turns his head toward the voice beckoning him, and his eyes widen.

He doesn’t know why, because it’s not as though he doesn’t recognise Yoongi’s voice—a voice that’s been there next to him for many years—but he’s still fairly startled to hear it.

Yoongi nears him from the end of the hallway.

He toughens up and rids himself of the nerves that should force him to walk away and pretend he hadn’t seen or heard him.

Jimin’s never nervous; that’s Yoongi’s job.

But it’s hard not to be with everything replaying in his head.

“How are you?” Yoongi asks as he stops in front of him.

Jimin smiles. “I’m good. You?”

“Going through it,” he rubs his back of his neck. Jimin glances at it, then his other hand. He’s concealing something behind his back. “I just wanted to offer you something.”

“What is it?”

Yoongi drops a small black casette in his palm, and grunts, “For when you release your own album or mixtape in future.” He looks Jimin in the eye, very serious, a little bit red in the face despite his current resolve. “Keep it safe somewhere. You might need it.”

And before Jimin can even respond with a question or even a word of significant appreciation, beside Yoongi and his weird quirks, the older quickly turns on his heels and heads down the hallway, towards his studio, disappearing inside it.

Jimin stares down at the tape.

They hadn’t yet spoken about what happened, and they probably won’t for a while because neither would know where to even begin.

But it seems that this tape is Yoongi’s way of breaking the silence first, using music to express his emotions for him instead.

A black cassette with a white piece of paper taped around the body of it. Yoongi loves cassettes more than CDs for some reason.

It feels heavy in Jimin’s hand.

There’s a lot of reasons why it could feel heavy.

Could be Yoongi finally giving him a song as he’d promised ages ago.

Could be something else that might catch Jimin off guard as had happened when he walked in on him jerking off to /his/ song.

Could simply be Jimin’s crush on Yoongi taking plight and him feeling giddy at something he had given him.

Could be anything, really.

Nonetheless, neither of the arising reasons seem to bother Jimin.

On the contrary, he’s in such high spirits that he simply stares at the tape, smiling down at it like an idiot who’s been handed something very life-changing.

Of course—it’s from Yoongi.

When he inspects it more, he finds the little tape folded in the corner of it has writing on it.

Jimin gently tears it off, and reads the single sentence scribbled on.

Jimin blushes at the small writing at the very bottom of the paper, and he stows it away as quickly as he can in his back pocket and scurries off to meet Hoseok and Taehyung; he has to tell someone now.

There’s no way he’s going to function correctly if he keeps this to himself.

But as he heads down the hallway, passing the locked door to Genius Lab, Jimin can’t stop the tender smile of excitement that forms on his lips, slow as it rises the more he thinks about Yoongi.

It’s really stupid, but he grins.

It may happen slowly following what they shared, but there’s definitely hope.

Granted, it could take a while for them to ask genuine questions about how to go forward, but Jimin’s always trusted in Yoongi.

It comes naturally.

He rearranges Yoongi’s words in his mind.

There is hope, more than blowjobs and silly little innuendos written at the bottom of a piece of paper; honing in on a gift that Jimin will hold close to himself when he thinks about it, and becomes ready to maybe tell the rest of the world about it.
Releases come in different formats – Set Me Free, PT.2

For Jimin.

— fin 🙀
✉️: yoonmin au 🔞

jimin’s had a crush on his hyung for a while

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