It started with a look.
Then a beat.
Then a pull so strong, Jimin didn't remember if he moved first or if she did.
The dancefloor was pulsing, neon strobes cutting through the dark like knives through silk. People faded. Music roared.
Celine.
Her hips moved before her feet did, and Jimin was pulled by an invisible string.
She wasn't dancing for anyone.
She danced like the music owed her something.
Hair wild. Strawberry-blonde strands whipping in rhythm. Arms loose. Body fluid. A little reckless. All hunger. All rhythm.
She didn't look back to see if he followed.
Of course he did.
When he got close, she turned.
Smirked.
Didn't say a word.
Just pressed her palm to his chest and pushed him gently back.
He let her.
Celine danced around him.
Like a flame teasing air.
Brushing past him, her fingertips grazing his jaw, the inside of his wrist, the waistband of his pants.
Jimin's mouth parted.
This girl was chaos.
When she finally came chest-to-chest, he leaned in to say something—anything—but she just whispered, "Don't ruin it with words."
So he didn't.
They danced like gravity had picked favorites. Like the universe decided to slow just for them. His hands on her hips, her lips brushing his ear. Her laugh like wildfire. Her body heat branding him through his shirt.
Bottles disappeared.
So did time.
—
His hotel suite.
Jimin didn't remember the ride. Just flashes of her pulling him into the elevator by his chain.
The kiss that stole his breath.
Her leg around his waist.
Until he felt the edge of his bed with his knee, pushing her down his bed a little hard. She never did argue with how hard he pushed, she liked him being in control. How dark his eyes were, flaming, hungry for her skin. She started to strip her top when he lunged, ripping the little piece of fabric apart and unhooking her bra in one swift move. Kissing her, burying her beneath him.
But Celine had to get control back. She pulled herself up and pulled Jimin down as she put herself on top of him. His focus stayed completely on her mouth, how he wanted to make it bleed.
"You think you got me under control? Think again." She says, smirking. Straddling him beneath her, pressing down, feeling his boner against hers. She started to move her hips, rolling them. Making the man beneath groaning.
He grabbed her thighs tightly, adding more pressure as his dick connected to hers even harder.
Celine felt heat gathering her core, her skin and her cheeks. Jimin was done. One swift move and he flipped her. Planting kisses on her ears, whispering unholy words, making her breath hitch.
He trailed kisses down her collarbones, to her sternum, then to the sensitive peak of her breast, sucking them with his plump lips. Celine moaned. Then he continued to trail down her stomach. To her slit. Jimin spread her legs further, looking at the woman with expressive eyes begging him not to stop. For more. Desire and lust were the kind of dangerous mix they were swirling in together.
He couldn't hold back anymore, he started sucking her. The way he moved his tongue made her back arch, her hands found his hair as she couldn't take it anymore. She needed him. Pulling him in as he provided enough pressure, his plump lips wrapped around her until the sensation was too much, her stomach knotting, feeling her climax--she shuddered then, coming unto his mouth.
She could feel Jimin smirking as he pulled himself up, wiping her cum from the bedsheet. He got up, took off his pants and with one quick move he rolled a condom in. If she wasn't still high from his licking frenzy she would've swatted the squared package away. She liked it raw. And now that she's seeing him, she bit her lips. Eyes a little wide, he was bigger than average. Her mouth almost gaped as she saw that through sobered eyes. Next thing was he's on top of her. Entering her unceremoniously with much force she gasped.
He was used to being in charge.
Used to leading.
But not with her.
Celine was a storm.
She took.
Demanded.
Pulled him apart and pieced him back together with her nails down his spine and lips on his throat.
Jimin had never had someone like her. Her eyes still detached, but the desire screaming from her dark irises. It was enough to drive him crazy.
She matched his rhythm. He thought he would finish early because of it, but no, she made sure he didn't. She liked watching his body react with hers. Pressed together. Couldn't get enough. Controlling.
They were on another world. Her worries pushed somewhere deep in her subconsciousness as she rode him to oblivion. His core rolling in an aggressive agonizing motion. His gaze burned through her as she bent down, claiming his lips once again. Flipping her while her legs still connected to his waist. Pounding her. Fucking her brains out. Moaning his name.
"Fuck me harder." She says in between pants.
and fuck her harder he did, Jimin's brain almost short-circuited as she commanded him. They both came at the same time then. The walls of his hotel quieted with their panting, and their hearts pounding in their chest.
The sex was wild.
Not just rough—wild.
Spontaneous. Frenzied. Tangled in sweat and silk sheets. She left bite marks and bruises like she was signing her name with every kiss.
And maybe he never would again.
—
The sun was brutal.
He woke up with a throbbing head and an even heavier chest.
She was gone.
The bed still smelled like her.
Like jasmine and sin.
But all that remained was lipstick on his mirror:
"Celine" in red.
And a kiss mark, perfectly pressed.
Jimin groaned, dragging a hand over his face.
His limbs ached. His mouth was dry.
But it was his chest—his stupid, aching chest—that throbbed worst of all.
She was something else.
Electric. Unapologetic. Untamed.
A ghost that felt real even now.
He felt like he just ran marathon with from the throbbing of his thighs.
He lost count when they were in three.
His phone buzzed.
[Taehyung]: Bro where tf did you disappear to last night? Jungkook thought you were kidnapped lmao.
[Jungkook]: I'm coming over. Sayuri changed the locks again. I'm homeless. Make coffee. Or whiskey. Whatever.
Jimin stared at the mirror again.
"Celine."
God help him—he wanted more.
***
The pounding on Jimin's door was merciless.
He groaned from the couch, still half-naked, a coffee mug cradled like a lifeline.
"Bro! Open up before Jungkook kicks the door down!" Taehyung's voice was unholy for 10 a.m.
Jimin cracked the door open.
"Jesus Christ," Jungkook muttered, pushing past him. "You look like you were mauled by a bear."
Taehyung followed, stopped mid-step—then let out the most dramatic gasp in human history.
"OH. MY. GOD."
Jimin blinked. "What?"
Taehyung didn't even speak. Just pulled out his phone like a TMZ reporter who'd struck gold.
Click.
Click-click.
Click.
Jimin squinted. "What the hell are you—"
The shutter kept going. "Bro. Turn around."
"What?"
"TURN AROUND."
Jimin turned, and Taehyung choked on his own laughter.
"There's a BITE MARK ON YOUR SPINE."
Jungkook, who'd just sat down with a bottle of water, sprayed half of it across Jimin's marble countertop.
"WHAT DID YOU EVEN DO?" he coughed.
"I—nothing! I mean—"
"NOTHING?!" Taehyung yelled. "I CAN SEE A FREAKING MAP OF MORSE CODE DOWN YOUR NECK."
Jimin collapsed into the barstool, face buried in his hands. "I hate both of you."
Taehyung walked in a circle, laughing so hard he was wheezing. "Do you even know her name?"
"...Yes," Jimin muttered.
They both stared.
Jungkook raised a brow. "That's... a first."
"Her name's Celine."
Taehyung froze.
"...Like the designer brand?"
"No! She's—" Jimin paused. "She's not like anyone I've met. Like, she's a dancer, I think. And chaos. Absolute chaos. She was just—God—why am I even explaining?? She licked salt off her hand like she invented it."
Taehyung leaned on the counter like a nosy auntie. "And what did you do?"
"I blacked out after tequila and woke up alone with lipstick on my mirror."
He pointed behind him, where the word Celine still shone in red like a ghost.
Taehyung raised his phone again. "This is art. I'm sending it to the hyungs. Jin-hyung's gonna DIE in the army seeing this."
Jimin lunged. "TAEHYUNG DON'T—!"
Too late.
"Sent."
Jungkook just shook his head, already pouring whiskey in his coffee. "Welcome to heartbreak, bro. Again."
"I'M NOT HEARTBROKEN."
Jungkook and Taehyung spoke in eerie unison:
"You will be."
Jimin groaned.
JungKook, despite the sunglasses, narrowed his eyes to Jimin's torso. His eyes followed the trails of the aftermath of Jimin's night as it cut short to his boxers. Taehyung saw Jungkook's gaze.
"Bro, take your shirt off."
Jimin looked up, horrified. "Excuse me?"
Taehyung crossed his arms. "Take. It. Off."
"No?! What the hell—"
Jungkook leaned on the armrest, sipping his spiked coffee. "Bro, we're just trying to help. We need to assess the damage."
Jimin grabbed a pillow and hugged it like a shield. "You guys act like I got into a car crash. It was just a girl."
"That wasn't just a girl," Jungkook deadpanned. "That was a war general. She marked you like territory in a wildlife documentary."
"I've seen less bruises on MMA fighters," Taehyung added.
"Guys—"
"BRO," Jungkook leaned forward, serious now. "Did she step on you?"
Jimin blinked.
"...Maybe."
Both Jungkook and Taehyung SCREAMED.
Taehyung collapsed to the floor laughing, legs kicking. "SHE DOMINATED OUR JIMINIE."
"She asserted dominance like a lioness," Jungkook cackled. "You are no longer a man. You are a plaything."
"She made you a Sims character and chose violence."
Taehyung crawled up to the couch. "Bro," he whispered dramatically, "do you... have any marks on your ass?"
Jimin went red. "WHAT?!"
Jungkook leaned over, just as seriously. "No but FR. Check. She might've signed her autograph there."
Taehyung lost it again. "BRO CHECK HIS BALLS MAYBE IT SAYS PROPERTY OF CELINE—"
Jimin screamed and launched the pillow. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
Taehyung dodged and kept laughing.
Jungkook wiped tears from his eyes. "Bro, I'm just saying. If she did that to your neck, then your—"
"LEAVE."
"—she might've twisted your soul."
Jimin threw his hoodie over his head and curled into the couch like a retired idol with PTSD. "I hate both of you."
"Look on the bright side," Taehyung said, clicking more pictures. "At least you finally found someone who broke you for once."
Jungkook nodded. "Yeah. Congrats on getting emotionally wrecked and physically mauled."
Jimin groaned.
Taehyung smirked. "Should we make a group chat with her?"
"OUT!"
Ding. A beat of silence.
Jimin groaned under his blanket.
"Bro, you might want to check the group chat," Jungkook said, holding back laughter.
"Don't," Jimin mumbled. "Please don't."
Too late.
Taehyung had already sent three high-definition photos titled:
📸 Exhibit A: Park Jimin's neck = Battlefield.
📸 Exhibit B: Is that a bite mark or was he attacked by a possum?
📸 Exhibit C: Emotional damage visible in the eyes.
Then he followed up with a voice note:
"To our beloved Jin hyung, Yoongi hyung, Namjoon hyung and Hobi hyung currently serving the nation—please look at your baby brother. He has been claimed. God bless."
Not even five seconds later:
[Jin 👨🍳]: WHAT IN THE PORN HELL IS THIS
[Yoongi 🐱]: who tf branded jimin like he's a damn cow
[Jin 👨🍳]: IS HE OKAY?????
[Taehyung 🐻]: Physically? Debatable. Emotionally? Wrecked.
[Jungkook 🐰]: Spiritually? Ascended.
[Yoongi 🐱]: that boy needs holy water.
[Jin 👨🍳]: WHO DID THIS. NAME. ADDRESS. BLOOD TYPE.
[Taehyung 🐻]: Her name's Celine. That's all we know.
[Yoongi 🐱]: celine dion??
[Jungkook 🐰]: 💀💀💀
Jimin cried into the cushion.