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Jimin’s grip tightened on the painting, the weight of it grounding him, the brushstrokes on its surface somehow more urgent now.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as his mind raced.

His mind raced, but the seconds felt like hours. Could he really escape this time?

His fingers tightened around the painting, and his heart pounded harder.

There had to be somewhere to hide... If he moved too fast, he'd be caught.

Think, Jimin. Think. The footsteps were drawing closer, and panic gnawed at his insides.

His eyes flicked frantically from the vault door to the shadows in the corners of the room.

He couldn’t afford to get caught now. He couldn’t let them take this from him. He was a thief, damn it. A damn good one.

“You’ve been stealing for ten years. There's nothing you can’t steal and get away with,” he muttered to himself, trying to steady his breath.

His heart raced as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. Where the hell can I hide?

Just as he thought he had found a solution, a voice crackled through the earpiece in his ear. “Cut the—”

“Shut up, Tuna head,” Jimin hissed into the mic, not sparing a second to be polite. “Not now, not when I'm about to be caught.”

He could practically feel Tuna rolling his eyes on the other end, but Jimin didn’t care. He needed to stay focused.

He scanned the room again, eyes darting around. The footsteps were getting closer.

“There’s nothing you can’t steal and get away with.” He said again, more forcefully this time, as if the words could sharpen his focus.

The sound of footsteps grew louder, drawing nearer with every second. Jimin’s mind raced through the countless times he had slipped past security, outsmarted the guards, and vanished into the shadows.

He was good at this. No one had ever caught him.

But the footsteps... They weren’t stopping. He had to hide. Where? His eyes darted to the hallway, the shadows.

A quick scan told him there was no easy escape. He couldn’t just walk out of here with the painting; the only way out was to vanish.

Another set of footsteps echoed behind him.

Shit.

The door creaked slightly, the tension building with every inch it moved. Jimin didn’t have time to think, didn’t have time to run.

His fingers gripped the painting tighter as he spun around, his heart skipping a beat.

This was it. His era was coming to an end. All the stealing, all the art heists, the carefully curated image he'd built up for himself—it was all crumbling.

He could almost feel the tears.

His confidence, his reputation, the very persona he'd molded over the years, it was all about to collapse.

Melt away like snow.

Even the thrill that once fueled him, the sharp, unwavering focus, seemed to falter now.

Turning slowly, he expected to see a guard—maybe several. But what he saw instead knocked the air right out of his lungs.

The man standing in the doorway was tall, lean, and entirely too handsome for Jimin’s peace of mind.

Dressed in fitted black gear, the intruder exuded confidence, his tousled dark hair falling into sharp, teasing eyes that sparkled with mischief.

His lips curved into a smirk as he looked Jimin up and down, his gaze unapologetic.

“Well,” the man said, his voice deep and smooth, a cocky grin on his face. “You’re not what I was expecting— You're better.”

Jimin’s brows furrowed, his heart pounding faster than he cared to admit. “The fuck. And who the hell are you?” he snapped, clutching the painting closer to his chest.

Jimin let out a sigh of relief his era wasn't over yet, he rolled his eyes, an arm around the painting, his other massaging his temples.

The man tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Your competition. But you can call me Jungkook.”

“Competition?” Jimin echoed, disbelief coloring his tone. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I never kid, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.

The word made Jimin’s skin prickle. He hated how his body reacted to it—how his stomach flipped and his cheeks heated despite his best efforts to remain indifferent. “Don’t call me that.”

The man chuckled, stepping further into the room with an ease that made Jimin’s irritation flare. “Why not? It suits you.”

“I said, do not call me that,” Jimin repeated through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” Jungkook replied, his smirk never faltering. He gestured toward the painting. “How about you hand that over, and I’ll be on my way?”

Jimin scoffed. “Not a chance.”

Jungkook sighed dramatically, leaning against the doorframe. “This could’ve been so simple, but no. You just had to make it complicated.”

Jimin took a step back, holding the painting tighter. “Back off.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll make you regret coming here.”

The man raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. “You’re feisty. I like that.”

The compliment—if it could even be called that—sent an unwanted shiver down Jimin’s spine.

He hated that this stranger’s presence was getting under his skin. He hated even more how good he looked doing it.

“Stop staring at me like that,” Jimin snapped, his voice sharper than intended.

“Like what?”

“Like you think you’ve already won.”

The man took another step closer, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. “You're right” he paused his gaze darkening for a moment “Well it sure as hell feels like it”

Jimin’s retort died in his throat as the sound of voices echoed down the hallway.

Guards.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Yeah, shit” the thief replied, moving toward him in a flash.

Jimin backed up instinctively, but there was nowhere to go. Jungkook grabbed one side of the painting, pulling it toward him.

“What are you doing?” Jimin hissed, glaring.

“Saving your ass,” the man replied, pulling harder. “Unless you’d rather get caught?”

“Let go,” Jimin growled, yanking the painting back.

The footsteps grew louder.

“Fine,” Jungkook muttered. “But you owe me.”

Before Jimin could protest, the man dragged him toward the nearest alcove, pressing him against the wall as they disappeared into the shadows.

The space was impossibly tight, their bodies flush against each other. Jimin’s breath hitched as the man’s hand settled on his waist, his touch firm but oddly gentle.

“Relax,” the man whispered, his lips dangerously close to Jimin’s ear. “You’re shaking.”

Jimin bristled, glaring up at him. “I am not.”

“Liar.”

Jimin hated how his pulse raced, how the stranger’s presence seemed to fill every corner of his senses.

His cologne was subtle but intoxicating, a warm blend of spice and something darkly alluring.

The guards stormed into the vault, their heavy boots pounding against the polished floor.

Flashlights cut through the darkness like piercing beacons, illuminating every corner with ruthless efficiency.

“They’ve got to be here,” one of them barked, his voice sharp and commanding. The metallic clink of weapons being drawn followed, a chilling sound that made Jimin’s heart hammer against his ribs.

“Fan out,” another ordered. “Check behind every display, every shadow, every corner. They mustn't leave or Mr Sebastian will have a swing on our head.”

Jimin pressed himself tighter against the wall, his breath shallow as the beams of light swept dangerously close.

The narrow alcove that concealed him and the man beside him felt suffocatingly small, the faint rustle of their clothes deafening in the tense silence.

A guard’s flashlight lingered mere inches from their hiding spot, its harsh glare casting jagged shadows on the wall.

Jimin’s muscles coiled like a spring, ready to bolt if necessary. He could feel the stranger’s hand tighten slightly on his waist, a silent warning to stay still.

“Think they’re still in here?” a younger guard muttered, his footsteps echoing ominously as he approached their position.

“They wouldn’t have gotten far,” another replied. The beam of his flashlight swept upward, grazing the ceiling before angling back toward the floor.

“Stay sharp. Thieves like this don’t make mistakes often.”

One guard paused just in front of their alcove, his hand hovering over the radio strapped to his chest.

Jimin’s pulse roared in his ears as the man reached for the flashlight clipped to his belt, preparing to inspect the shadows.

“Wait,” another guard called from deeper inside the vault. “Did you hear that?”

The distraction was enough to pull their attention away.

The guard hesitated, then turned toward the sound, his heavy steps receding.

Jimin exhaled shakily, the reprieve only temporary as the guards continued their systematic sweep, their movements calculated and relentless.

Jimin’s breathing quickened, and Jungkook’s grip on his waist tightened.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. “I’ve got you.”

Jimin’s cheeks burned, but he refused to let the man see how flustered he was.

“You’re a cocky bastard, aren’t you?” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation.

The man leaned closer, his breath warm against Jimin’s neck. “Cocky enough to make you forget how to breathe.”

Jimin’s lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, but it never came.

Distracted by the lick Jungkook left on his neck hot and wet almost teasingly.

He was left speechless “what in the fucking nam— and Jungkook hand wrapped around jimin's mouth “Your going to get us caught sweetheart” Jungkook murmured closely to Jimin's face way way too close.

Jimin’s mind raced, a mess of indignation and something far more dangerous.

His breath hitched against Jungkook’s palm, the warmth of it against his mouth only heightening the chaos in his body.

He glared up at Jungkook, his eyes promising murder as soon as they were clear of this mess.

But that didn’t stop the heat pooling low in his stomach, the undeniable response that made him curse himself silently.

Jungkook’s dark eyes gleamed with amusement as if he knew exactly what effect he was having.

His lips quirked into that infuriating smirk, and he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against Jimin’s ear.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?”

Jimin made a muffled sound of protest behind Jungkook’s hand, his face burning.

He could feel every inch of the man pressed against him, the way Jungkook’s body seemed to radiate confidence and mischief.

“Shh,” Jungkook whispered, his voice low and teasing. “I’d hate for the guards to find us just because you couldn’t handle a little… distraction.”

Jimin’s glare intensified, but his body betrayed him.

He hated the way his heart pounded, the way his skin tingled where Jungkook’s hand and breath touched him.

He hated the way Jungkook’s presence overwhelmed every other thought in his head.

Finally, Jungkook pulled back just enough to let his hand drop, his smirk widening as he took in Jimin’s flushed face and narrowed eyes. “There we go,” he said softly. “Much better.”

Jimin shoved him hard in the chest, putting some much-needed distance between them.

“You’re insufferable,” he hissed, his voice low but venomous.

“And yet,” Jungkook replied, his voice dripping with amusement as he straightened, “you’re still here.”

Jimin scowled, his hand tightening on the painting. “Only because we’re not done. The moment we’re clear, I’m kicking your ass.”

Jungkook chuckled, his gaze dropping pointedly before flicking back up to meet Jimin’s. “Sure you are, sweetheart. Sure you are.”

Jimin growled under his breath, turning away before Jungkook could see just how flustered he was.

Damn him and that stupid smirk. Damn his stupid voice. And damn his stupid, ridiculously attractive face.

Heat spread through Jimin's body, an unwelcome rush of sensation pooling low in his stomach.

To his mortification, he felt a tightening in his pants. Great. Just great. Now Mr Angelcock had effect on his dick.

The guards’ flashlights passed dangerously close, their voices growing louder.

For a moment, they stood frozen, their breaths mingling in the tense silence.

When the guards moved deeper into the room, the man acted.

He pulled a small device from his belt and tossed it toward the far end of the vault.

A loud clatter echoed, followed by a bright flash.

The guards cursed, their flashlights darting toward the noise.

“Now,” Jungkook whispered, his voice urgent.

They slipped out of the alcove and into the hallway, their movements quick but silent.

They ran.

Swift and silent, their footsteps barely brushing the plush velvet carpet lining the hallway.

It wasn’t until they came to an abrupt halt, chests heaving, that Jimin noticed the weight of Jungkook’s hand clasped firmly around his own.

Jimin pulled away as soon as they were clear, glaring at the man.

“What fucking stunt where you pulling back there licking my neck like you’re some sorta animal and don’t you even think this means I’m letting you have the painting.”

The man smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart. And the lick i just felt like it”

Lies.

Well it wasn't entirely a lie. They were standing so close that Jungkook could catch the faint vanilla scent wafting from Jimin’s jacket.

It was intoxicating, wrapping around his senses like a spell, driving him to the brink of distraction.

He couldn’t help himself—he needed a taste.

Jimin’s jaw dropped, a flush creeping up his neck. He pointed a finger at Jungkook, words failing him for a moment.

“You… you felt like it? Are you insane?”

Jungkook shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face. “Maybe. But can you blame me?”

His gaze dropped briefly to Jimin’s lips before flicking back up to his eyes. “You’re kind of irresistible when you’re all flustered.”

Jimin sputtered, his hand tightening on the rolled-up painting as if it could shield him from the audacity radiating off Jungkook. “You’ve got some nerve.”

“Comes with the territory,” Jungkook replied easily, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, his movements deliberate and cat-like.

“Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining back there.”

“I was hiding!” Jimin hissed, stepping back, his back hitting the opposite wall.

“From guards, might I remind you? Not auditioning for a scene in your ridiculous fantasies.”

Jungkook chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I don’t need fantasies when you’re right here, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that,” Jimin snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut, though the pink in his cheeks betrayed the anger he was trying to muster.

“Fine,” Jungkook said, his tone mock-serious. “How about ‘vanilla’? Since that’s all I could think about when I was that close to you.”

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Comment and vote babygirls

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