His Hoodie, My Hoodie (M)
OC x FratBoy!Jimin Length: 8.6K oh man holy shit Type: Three Word Drabble… fluffy, with bit of naughty times Recommended OST: (x) and (x) (a/n): The 2/7 prompts that @an-exotic-writer sent me (lol you did this to yourself) I would like to keep my status as a pure cinnabun okay? This was ummhmM fun to write though ;) I would like to sincerely apologize to all the people I have teased with this ahah forgive me please, please accept my love.
Summary: “You don’t really know when it happened— considering he melded so seamlessly into your life— you can’t name the exact moment where Park Jimin morphed from a variable to a constant in your dreary reality.” What happens when one of the biggest fuckboys on campus suddenly only has eyes for you?
Prompt Request by My Missy: Hoodie, T-shirt, Skin Warning: explicit content that leaves me wanting to dig my own grave. Please proceed with caution. Ya know Park Jimin, thigh riding, lots of profanities.
001. Hoodie
It’s Friday night, about half past midnight; the hour where any reasonable and righteous activities crease to exist. Sighing from your cluttered desk, you manage to run your highlighter stained fingers through your loose bun that was on the verge of falling apart—funny, because so are you.
“Keep piling things up on your plate like that and you’ll realize you’re spreading yourself thin.” a voice rings from your shared bathroom and your head snaps up to see your roommate Lisa strolling through the door, dressed to the nines.
Through your study-hazed mind you recall that the “party of the century” that she has been raving about for the past two weeks is tonight—God, you really hope they don’t get reported, the sirens are such a distraction.
“Aren’t you just about to be late, Your Highness?” you reply with a roll of your eyes. Not that she is wrong about your workload, of course you knew that; you’re just too darn stubborn to let go of your competitive edge. “A queen is never late. Everyone else is simply too early.” “How can you remember Princess Diaries quotes and not even a single word our professor spews out on a daily basis?” “Because darling, I only highlight the important stuff.” she chuckles and flips her blonde locks to the side. You grumble because goddamit she’s pretty enough to be this shameless, but nonetheless urge her to hurry along and to be careful of strangers. She listens to your advice well enough, precariously balancing on one leg to strap on her heels until- “Come with me.”
Sputtering out a laugh you look pointedly towards your state of attire, oversized T-shirt you got for free from welcome week, running shorts and the most prominent eye bags you’ve ever adorned, yep, perfect party outfit.
“This is the most typical scenario ever Lisa, I’m not going to fall for it. I’m stressed enough to drink until I’m shit faced and with my luck I’ll probably throw up on some poor guy’s shoe.” you raise an eyebrow for her to challenge your opinion, but she gives up with a bittersweet smile—aha, you’re right!— and leaves you to your misery or so you think, until the drunk texts arrive.
[1:38am] Lisa: I’m gOn e [1:38am] Lisa: OmG so Taehyung is here and he’s still so … CuTE. I’m gonna talk to him. [1:40am] Lisa: He has a date :((( Amused you type in a quick reply, [1:41am] Me: You’re probably hotter than her anyways ;) [1:41am] Me: Jenny is taking care of your right? [2:00am] Me: Lisa???? [2:00am]: Lisa if you don’t reply is2g I’ll have to come get your drunk ass. [2:05am]: LISA. [2:15am]: Seriously ANSWER ME.
[2:25am]: That’s it I’m on my way.
Sneakers scratching against the pavement, you huff when you finally arrive at the infamous frat row, grimacing at the loud music that is still thumping throughout the house. Stuffy atmosphere and the sour smell of burning greens welcome you into the crimson stained room from the giant neon light plastered on the far wall. Luckily for you because it’s the end of the night and the magic is wearing off, most people are seemingly mellow or most likely too drunk to think straight.
You wiggle your way through the masses without much trouble and before you know it you’re right in the center of a kitchen with too many bottles of alcohol and strange faces filtering in and out every other second. “(y/n) baby!” Nearly giving yourself whiplash, you turn around to see a very much drunk Lisa and an apologetic looking Taehyung supporting her. He holds her phone in his hand, hurriedly explaining that she was drunk calling too many people so he absolutely had to take it from her before she spontaneously self destructs her own social life. He saw your texts but Lisa couldn’t even remember her own passcode to text you back. Typical. Laughing at her state, you’re tempted to take pictures, but she’ll most likely die from mortification once Taehyung tells her in the morning. Briefly thanking him for taking care of your reckless roommate, you’re trying to pry her off him but her grip only tightens around the flustered boy and you decide that she’ll simply have to live with the consequences in the morning. At least she hasn’t tried to kiss him (so far as you know) or throw up on him—oh god, what if she already did? “Did you decide to finally relax Mr. Grinch?” she slurs and you’re too relieved to scold her, but instead lean in closer to Taehyung to please take care of her when you feel a particularly cold splash against your back and the smell of cheap beer filling your nostrils. “Taehyung you jerk, how dare you leave me for the likes of her.”
You assume this is the aforementioned date.
“Tiffany please calm down, Lisa is just really drunk and—“ Taehyung is quick to appease the seething girl, which in turn riles up Lisa and you’re shivering slightly when you feel someone pull you out of the soon-to-be conflict.
“You don’t wanna be caught between that one.” your savior yells over the thumping bass as you two make your way across the sprawled bodies in the living room, stained red in lust and lights.
“My roommate might need me.” you murmur as a side note, but your aren’t exactly resisting his lead either, instead observing the sharp angle of his jawline as he probably smiles in response to your unconvinced tone.
“Oh trust me, Tiffany is a Zeta. They bite…literally.” “And I suppose you don’t, my knight in shining armor?” you laugh at his warning, as a rule of thumb sorority girls are pretty high on your “Do Not Fuck With” list and now you have a concrete reason to back that up.
“Well, not unless you want me to.” the blonde boy turns around and winks, mischief shining in the crescents of his eyes and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by how gorgeous he is. Your kind stranger is all soft hair and plump lips as he dips in closer, eliminating all pretense of personal space, even though you two are situated in a more quiet corner, a hallway where the noise is low enough to speak at normal volume.
“I’m Jimin.” he says, his eyes nearly disappearing into the most precious crescents and his hand extends for you to take. “I’m (y/n).” you take his hand and nearly choke when he retracts and begins to strip off his hoodie. “Woah woah woah,” you exclaim, bringing your hands to cover your eyes even though he was wearing a low cut tank top underneath, “no offense Jimin, but we just met. I don’t know how you bros do it but I’m not looking for a hook up.”
Jimin freezes up completely, his eyes widening in shock. Your thought are going insane, shouting and screaming at you because you probably missed your one and only chance to get laid—and by an incredibly good looking one at that— when Jimin brings all your inner voices to a halt with a loud chuckle. His laugh tapers off into slight wheezing and he keeps giggling until he’s practically crying and through his laughter filled tears he manages to choke out something along the lines of, “You shirt. Wet. Change.”
You’re pretty sure you heated from your toes to the tip of your head and evaporated all the alcohol clinging to your skin with just sheer body heat. “O-oh, thank you.” You take his hoodie automatically, disappearing into the bathroom behind you to change quickly into his hoodie, too flustered to notice the faint scent of his cologne to clinging to the soft fabric.
“I like you (y/n).” “We just met you idiot.” but this time your tone is teasing, knowing that he most likely just finds you to be a rather amusing distraction, which is good because you’re already intrigued by this boy in front of you as well.
Jimin never lets you live that day down, even when you’ve known him for almost a year now. He has a knack of bringing it up in the most random of times, making you flush until you find a wonderful retort which turns out to be- “Shut up, Min Yoongi’s Rice Cake.”
You saw the letters printed on the back of his hoodie the morning after you washed it for him and asked him about it when you returned it. He laughed and blamed his big Min Yoongi for such an audacious nickname, but you can see how much he loves the older boy nonetheless. Now here you are, a year or so into this friendship with Jimin and you realize that he’s so much more than the infamous reputation that his frat embodies. The two of you are settled in a quiet corner in the library, books strewn haphazardly across the wooden surface of your shared desk.
“Hey I didn’t get to choose that. That’s so unfair.” he whines, actually pouting at the pet name his gracious big gave him.
“Besides (y/n), you wear that hoodie more than me these days.”
“It’s comfortable.” you reply, avoiding his eyes and sinking deeper into the comfortable material. You’ll never tell him that you purposely come to the library dressed lightly because you know he’ll give you his hoodie.
There’s nothing special about it, just grey fabric with fleece lining, the bolded letters stretching across the chest and Jimin’s embroidered nickname on the back, but to you it’s purely Jimin. Jimin and his curiously sweet scent of citrus and mint ingrained into the fabric.
002. T-Shirt
You don’t really know when it happened— considering he melded so seamlessly into your life— you can’t name the exact moment where Park Jimin morphed from a variable to a constant in your dreary reality. All you seem to know now is the warmth of his embrace and the heartbreaking beauty of his laughter, the fluttering feeling in your stomach at the mention of his name and the necessity for his proximity.
When you have bad days he’s there with your favorite donut and a comforting shoulder. When you have good days he’s there to share in your most beautiful moments and more often than not he is the reason for them. Good days and bad days, they all seem to be filled with Jimin Jimin Jimin, so it should not have been incredibly surprising when he migrated from occupying your days to your mind eventually and your heart as well, but you were surprised nonetheless.
In all honesty, you want to call chastise yourself for falling for him, but how can you when he makes it so impossibly hard to not? You of all people know too well of the infamous Park Jimin whose sinfully sweet lies can make a girl’s heart flutter like newly hatched butterfly, only to be faced with the consequence of the harsh remnants of winter breeze that is his disinterest. How pitiful, you would think but you won’t fall for it, won’t fall for him, you had convinced yourself. Yet when he gives you that smile, that one with the radiance of about a thousand suns, you can’t help but feel weak at the knees and faint at heart. Well, well look where we are now, you sigh, surely all the cliches are true for a reason.
Today is one of those lazy Sundays where there’s nothing due and no deadlines to sweat about, a true rarity in the life of a college student. You’re lazing in Jimin’s room with a book in hand (just because you have nothing due doesn’t mean you can slack), waiting for him to return from his morning workout. The pale blue comforter under you does nothing to help you to relax when all they do is remind you of your not so little secret. You say not so little because practically the entire frat has figured it out except for Jimin—the poor boy is blissfully oblivious— adding to your torture.
As if the meaningful looks and side comments that are not so discreetly obscured by obnoxious coughs aren’t enough, the boys seem to find joy in the way Jimin is especially touchy in nature, nothing the way your cheeks turn rosy in his presence and in response sending some winks your way.
“He’s going to be the death of me.” You groan into Jimin’s pillow, but not before the man himself walks through the door in all his post-workout glory: skin glistening with droplets of sweat, white T-shirt matted to his abs and of course that unbearably gorgeous smile plastered on his face.
“Who’s going to be the death of you?” He questions as he pushes his hair back on his forehead, the blonde strands cascading softly in waves behind his fingers and your eyes can’t help but follow the movement. His eyes drop down to meet yours with a quirk of his eyebrows and you realize that you haven’t given him an answer in the prolonged silence.
“Oh umm,” you clear your throat, “M-my physics professor. The man is too smart for his own good and expect all of us to be on the same level.”
“Hmm, must be rough (y/n).” Jimin hums as he plucks his water bottle from his desk, taking a long pull of it’s contents, the water slightly dripping down the side of his lips, but his tongue snakes out to catch it before the tiny crystalline droplet could fall down to his neck.
It was just as short lived as your sanity.
At this angle his side profile contrasts sharply with the late morning sunlight and you’re mesmerized by the way his Adam’s apple is bobs as he finishes his bottle of water. This is going to be a long ass day, you think, and it’s only 11:30am; Jimin crushes the bottle and throws it across the room into the little brown paper bag he keeps for recycling, his biceps flexing even with the tiny action. Please get it together (y/n)! You mentally chastise yourself as you train your eyes towards his face.
“Yeah.. .you have no idea…” you trail off, your eyes nearly popping when he begins to strip off his damp T-shirt, the material peeling off like a second skin and you’re left gaping like a fish out of water. Funny, some water would be very nice right now.
“I’m changing, you don’t mind do you?” Jimin asks, his back still turned to you with an easy smile and you make some sort of discernible squeak that is probably something along the lines of “No problem” and “Of course not” meshed together into one messy blob of a sentence, but Jimin takes that as an affirmative as he turns to you in nothing but his grey joggers, the waistband low on his hips as he rummages around his room. You honestly feel faint. A knock sounds in the room just as you were thinking of whether you should excuse yourself outside and you wait for Jimin to yell, “Yeah?” towards the source before propping yourself up to open the door. He beats you to it however, since he was standing by his closet next to the door, quickly pulling the handle to address the stranger.
“Oh! Jimin.” a female voice bursts out with the open door and you immediately straighten from your perch on his bed, curious. It’s some girl, probably from a sorority judging by her jacket, her smile widening when she takes in his half undressed state.
“How can I help you Sunny?” He asks, leaning against the doorframe, smile still fixed in place.
“I was just going to thank you..about last night.” She says, her voice practically dripping with hidden intentions and underlying suggestion as her gaze flicks over to meet your startled doe eyes, lips pulling up into a smirk. Suddenly, you feel like an intruder in this exchange and you avert your eyes from her mirth filled orbs, the amusement dancing in them enough for a chill to run down your spine.
“Hmm, last night?” Jimin asks, snapping you and Sunny out of the mini stare-down.
“Oh, of course you wouldn’t remember. I’m just here to return your T-shirt.” she says, reaching into her purse to pull out one of Jimin’s many white T-shirts. She smiles wider when their fingers brush as he takes the bunched up fabric, her demeanor cat-like as she brings her hand to rest on his shoulder,
“Thank you Jimin. See you later.” she lays down her goodbyes with a final flick of her ruby red hair.
“What’s wrong (y/n)?”
That question snaps you to of your thoughts and back into reality with Jimin’s face a centimeter from yours and his hands waving frantically in front of your face. He must have asked you something and you were too caught up in your thoughts to respond again. Ugh he’s not going to let this one go, you groan mentally as you-
“Nothing.” You reply as a knee jerk response, the tone of your voice a harsher than you intended.
“Ah, see something is wrong. C’mon (y/n) I’ve known you for a year now. I can tell when something is wrong. See here,” Jimin pushes his finger gently on the space between your eyebrows, easing the tension there and you realize that you’ve been frowning, “these always mush together when you’re upset.” he says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world,
“And here,” he continues, “You also pout a little, it’s only a really tiny bit but I notice it.” he brings his finger to press onto your lips as if hushing you but it that makes you feel the way your lower lips pressed into his finger much more than the upper one.
You sigh, pulling away from his scrutinizing gaze and his finger, the proximity not helping in clearing your head of the swirling jealousy. “It’s nothing Jimin.” you sign, sinking down on his comforter. There’s a long silence, you peek up from your perch to see that he’s dressed now (thank God), his brows too are knitted, his lips pursed in thought. He’s only like this when he’s debating between saying something he knows is risky or letting it go, you note in horror and before you can change the subject to something else—preferably food— he breaks the silence with-
“So, are you jealous?”
You eyes widen, the mortification seeping into your veins along with adrenaline. A long silence ensues and you can only feel the tension press down as if oxygen was running out in the room and you oh so desperately need to breathe so you blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind which ironically is-
“So, do you lend your shirts out to every girl?” you answer his question with another question, the venom in your seemingly light question shocking even you.
“Ah, so you are.” He murmurs his eyes downcast, his face dropping to look at the floor, obscure from view or you would have seen the way he lips are pulled taunt in a repressed smile and his heart rapidly tiring from their sudden increase in speed.
“So what if I am?” your voice breaking despite yourself, your eyebrow raising in question. Jimin is baffled by your response, his mask of shock firmly fixed in place and you can’t help but feel hurt at his dismissal of your feelings; tears pricking at your eyes at your own confession. You didn’t mean to say that, you wish you could reel the words back but you already casted them out into the abyss. He doesn’t need to be caught in your messed up emotions. It’s pitiful that you break so easily like this, but now there’s nothing to hold back your thoughts that are colored green with envy.
“So what if I am jealous that Sunny borrowed your shirt. I have no right to be so. I have no right to be so immersed in this crush for my best friend when he’s the one that knows me the best, yet fails to notice that I’m aching from loving him.”
That one treacherous tear leads the revolt against its confines and escapes down your cheek and suddenly all your tears are breaking free and falling uncontrollably down your face.
“(y/n)..” Jimin starts but you didn’t want to hear it so you bolt, abandoning your book in your haste, hopping from his bed and out of his room. Jimin scrambles to catch up with you, but you’re already half way through the house and the resounding bang of the door closing has him freeze mid-track in the kitchen, his labored breathing the only sound in the silence save for the tiny chewing sounds coming from a very confused Jungkook who was watching the entire thing unfold.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, brat.” Jimin grits out between his clenched teeth, his jaw visibly flexing from rage.
Jungkook’s pizza filled mouth pauses in its chewing and his round eyes impossibly increases in size as he runs to the other side of the kitchen counter, putting the island in between him and seething boy.
“Hyung,” he pleads, thickly swallowing his pizza, “I have no idea what you’re so mad about.” Jimin growls, the younger’s response only making his blood boiling at their maximum temperature, the vein on his forehead nearly popping. He’s ready to pounce when Jin rushes into the kitchen-
“Woah, woah. No fighting in my kitchen. Care to explain yourselves kids?”
“I have no idea what’s going on either.” Jungkook whines from his position but he doesn’t dare move when Jimin is still glowering at him.
“God! I never understood why you never let girls borrow just one of your many white T- shirts after you fuck them senseless. Now thanks to your possessive ass (y/n) thought I was with Sunny last night.” Jimin directs his sentence at Jungkook and a knowing expression crosses the boy’s face.
“So she returned your shirt?” Jungkook squeaks, running quickly to hide behind Jin.
“Yes she returned my shirt, brat. She also got me in a lot of trouble thank you very much.” Jimin groans, voice dripping with sarcasm, he can’t believe this is happening because of a fucking T-shirt.
“What did (y/n) say?” Jin says, placing a comforting hand on Jimin’s back patting his tensed muscles.
“Well at first she didn’t say anything, which was the problem but when I asked her if she was jealous and to my surprise she said yes, but followed with the fact that she had no right to be,” Jimin begins, “which is wrong because she has every right to be, or well at least I want her to.”
The statement bleeds into a question as Jimin crouch lower until he’s sitting down and leaned back against the counter.
“And then she said that she’s in love with me and that I’ve been an idiot and didn’t notice at all, which I mean, is also not completely true because I just enjoyed her flustered blushing…” Jin cuts Jimin off before he could launch into his usual ramblings about you and pull Jimin from his crouched position,
“Do you kids even hear yourselves?” he chuckles, “Just go confess to her then, Chim.”
“I would also suggest apologizing.” Jungkook suggests but immediately shuts up when Jimin gives him a look that practically screams bloody murder.
“Thanks Hyung.”
“That’s what I’m here for… to keep you kids from destroying my kitchen.”
003. Skin
“…and he’s not even that good looking,” you continue on with your rational—not so rational— rant about Park Jimin while Lisa is slowly sinking farther into the couch with Season 2 of Grey’s Anatomy on rerun for the hundredth time; she’s also heard this speech of yours for just the same amount of times.
“Ummhmm” is her uncommitted response as her eyes widen at a particularly graphic scene.
“I mean I love it when his eyes does the crinkle thing when he smiles,” you sigh, “and his laugh is kind of adorable…” you trail, noting the way the popcorn misses your roommates mouth as she gapes at the love scene unfolding before her.
“Having fun there?” you muse as you give up entirely on your mini rant and snuggle next to her on the plush cushion.
“Yep.”
“At least pretend to listen to me.” you murmur, smacking her lightly on the shoulder to which she chuckles and hugs you from behind,
“Aww, it’s so rare for my responsible and perfectionist roommate to want me to be the adult in the relationship for once” she chuckles when you pout and simply feed you popcorn to keep your mouth occupied as she begins,
“Listen to me (y/n), it’s not like you to pace back and forth in circles.” she says, “Now how many times have you recited this speech about Park Jimin to me?” “Too many times.” you mourn after swallowing your popcorn, all the while hanging your head low with the weight of your realization.
“That’s right. Now would you like to do me the honors of telling me why that is Darling? Or will I have to spell it out for you.” she implores, not wanting to spill the beans but if that’s what it takes then-
“I like Park Jimin.”
Lisa splutters on the buttery popcorn in her mouth and aggressively coughs out the intruding food particles caught in her wind pipe, her reaction borderline concerning as she tries to formulate sentences,
“That was a lot easier than I thought.” she wheezes out, her voice hoarse after her prolonged coughing fit. She props herself up to breathe properly, situating herself against the other side of the couch but still facing you.
“Well, that’s because that’s not the problem. I don’t think it’s mutual.”
“(y/n) for god sakes the boy would do anything for you.” She states, picking up her cell phone to no doubt derive some sort of matchmaking plan for the pair of you, but your apprehension of her success rate keeps you from snatching the device out of her hands.
“Jimin is just really nice.”
“Babe, that idiot has broken so many hearts he must have been some sort of hero in his past life to not go through shitty karma on a day to day basis. He’s not just really nice.” Lisa states, still fully immersed in her phone, cut somehow she still cuts you off before you can argue-
“Did you know that he hasn’t been with anyone since he met you?”
It’s your turn to splutter as all your counterarguments flying erratically around in your brain at this impossible situation.
“A-and you would know this because?”
Lisa turns her phone around, the FaceTime app on full display and sitting there is a shocked Taehyung, his features blurred from the pixels on the screen, but you can tell its him by the way his rectangular smile is reflected from the phone to you.
“Hi (y/n)!” Taehyung yells, his large hands waving frantically, causing them to blur from the lagging internet.
“Oh my god. Taehyung, how much did you hear? Also please tell me Jimin is not in the room.” you nearly yell but it comes out as a weak inquiry as you feel all your blood drain from your face and the air rushing to your head, feeling light headed. You mildly glare at Lisa over her phone screen and she simply laughs.
“You need to hear it from a creditable source!” She exclaims pushing herself towards you so the two of you can face Taehyung on the screen.
“Hey, babe.” he greets your roommate, honey practically dripping from their eyes from their maintained eye contact and you can’t help but-
“Please refrain from eye-fucking each other while I’m in the same FaceTime window.” Lisa flushes and Taehyung coughs as they both cast their eyes downwards and you simply laugh at their adorable reactions.
“Right,” Lisa clears her throat, “we’re here to talk about you.”
“Jiminnie is not here by the way (y/n).” Taehyung cuts in, their combined efforts to change the subject almost comedic.
“I just got connected but I can confirm that Jiminnie has been a good boy since he met you.” Taehyung chuckles out with a nod, but your tepid reaction clues him on your disbelief.
Too bad for you, Taehyung is set on changing your mind. “Think about it (y/n), one year is a long time for someone like him; he must be so lonely.” he continues pleading for his brother,
“Maybe that’s why he’s been taking such long showers lately…” Taehyung trails off, the mischief in his orbs igniting when your confusion turns to that of realization, causing you to shoot up from the couch, your cheeks ablaze with the new found knowledge; an amused Lisa staring back at your flustered state.
“I-I’ll think about it.” you hurriedly spill out the words in order to escape but not before Taehyung’s deep voice echoes from the tiny cell phone,
“Please put Jiminnie out of his dry spell (y/n)! His hand is being overworked.”
As with all functions of life, most things are easier said than done and you do all you can to ponder over the possibilities of confrontation, but you end up pathetically backing out last minute. It’s because you’re embarrassed. You’re so embarrassed that you ran out on Jimin, embarrassed because you accused him of such a high crime when he is ,somewhat, innocent and embarrassed that you can’t even bring yourself to face him due to your confession.
Yet, you miss him.
You miss your best friend and the ease that comes with his presence. Swirling around like oil and water, your thoughts refuse to come to an agreement. Just the idea of seeing him again makes your heart leap with elation and morbid dread, so much so that for the next few weeks you adamantly avoid him like the plague, ducking your head low and keeping your eyes downcast, your head stuffed into a cap and your departures from lectures abrupt so that there is no room for slip ups. So, it comes as a surprise to you when the boys lure you right into the lion’s den without your knowledge.
“Please (y/n), I really need to borrow your notes. I’ll fail that Calculus midterm tomorrow if you don’t give it to me.” Jungkook pleads with those doe eyes, his rosy lips pursed in a fail attempt at acting cute and you couldn’t help but laugh at his shameless begging.
“Yeah, well maybe you should have been more worried about Integrals and less about your date’s anatomy."
”(y/n) now is not the time for your nerd jokes.“ The boy whines, his expression so distressed so can’t help but feel your heart melt at his hopeless situation. He continues to pout, his facial expression shockingly like that of a toddler and you feel resolve melting away. Curse his damn good looks.
"Fine, I’ll drop by after 7p.m. My notebook is at home and I can probably add some annotations for you.” You give in, Jungkook’s blinding smile and bear hug assuring, but the glares sent your way from some girls walking by is anything but.
“Alright, alright that’s enough PDA from you, playboy. Let me go before your personal groupies murder me in my sleep.” you lightly pinch his arm as a warning and he lets you go with a tiny yelp and his signature bunny smile.
Truly, the only reason you agreed is because you know Jimin would be out for dance practice, meaning that he won’t be back at the house until the unholy hours of dawn, also meaning that you have little to no chance of running into him… or so you thought.
You knock on the familiar mahogany door of the frat house at 7:30p.m, in case Jimin left for practice late, but you’re simultaneously relieved and disappointed at the lack of a certain blonde haired boy at your arrival. Jungkook greets you as he pulls you inside despite your protests, his brothers coming in and out of the living room to greet you.
“Long time no see, kiddo.” Jin greets you as he gives you a hug, his shoulders still overwhelmingly broad as he towers over you. Funny, Jin will always seem like a dad to you—or a mom—due to his caring nature.
“Yeah, well you know me and my insane schedules.” You chuckle, your own lie unconvincing even to your ears and you have to physically fight the urge to smack your palm against your forehead due to your lack of a better excuse.
Jin just smiles knowingly, his hand coming to pat you on your back as he walks away,
“I’ll leave you to it then."
Left in a daze, you’re lost in thought of the last time you were here, until you hear a little throat clearing to the left of you which prompts you to focus once again on Jungkook, handing him your baby blue Calculus notebook, the rainbow sticky notes poking out randomly from different pages.
"Here you go Kookie. Make sure not to destroy it."
"I’m not Namjoon-hyung” he replies, laughing when he can hear Namjoon’s distant grumble of disagreement from the kitchen.
“Don’t you have any exams coming up (y/n)?” Jungkook questions as he looks at you from his giant pile of notes on the dining table, his form settling for one of the many chairs surrounding it and pushing his bangs back into a funny looking ponytail on top of his head. The kid has such weird study habits, you muse as you observe his study desk. Why he needed your notebook to add to his giant pile of material was rather curious, considering that the frat usually have archives on archives of past exams and study guides for their members. “Hmm,” you muse on his question the upcoming exams the least of your recent concerns due to a certain boy, “no, but I have a paper due soon. Now that you mention it I can’t find my book that I was going to use for it."
You rake your brain to the last time you’ve seen that book and is hit with flashes of citrus and mint scent and light blue comforter.
Jimin.
"Ah, well seems like I left it somewhere.” you begin to walk towards the staircase, “I’ll be right back, Kookie.” You yell from the second floor, the plush tan carpet soft under the pads of your feet. It’s strange to walk down the abandoned hallway down to the room on the far left, the one with “Park Jimin” written on a white board stuck on the center of the off white surface. You gently push the door open, still fearful that the owner of the room will turn up inside, but to your relief you simply find an empty room, the comforter neatly made but his books laying open— symptoms of midterms week.
Curiously, you also find his your favorite hoodie folded on his nightstand along with your book placed on top. Padding over to the lamp on the nightstand, you tuck the book under your left arm and is about to escape from the room but not before hugging the hoodie to your chest, the temptation too tantalizing to resist. Citrus and mint.
Faint click of the door flings you from your mini heaven, but you assume it’s just Jungkook checking up on you, so you hastily drop the hoodie and grip your book tighter.
“I’ll be right there.” you murmur turning around to reassure him; only to have the air knocked out of your lungs and words to dry up in your throat at the sight of the owner of the room leaning against the door.
Jimin is dressed in his dance clothes, white tank top cut obscenely low on the sides and his black joggers hugging his thighs and you’re so caught up with the fact that he’s in front of you that you nearly miss the way his breathing is shallow and there is a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. Did he run here? you blink the thought away as you try to lessen the tension in the room.
“Jimin,” you start, his head shooting up at the sound of his name and you melt from the hopeful look in his eyes, “Didn’t you have dance practice?” you wince at the way the words flowed out of your mouth, as if they were gibberish, awkward and clipped.
“I told Hoseok that I had an emergency.” Jimin says, creeping closer to you, “Something I desperately needed to take care of,” he’s a breath away now, his cologne lighter due to perspiration, “and if I didn’t resolve it I would be very, very sad.” Your breath catches in your throat at his proximity, the intensity of his gaze making you wobble, but Jimin places a hand on your lower back, steadying you. How is it you always find yourself trapped between his body and his sinful gaze?
The action causes him to pull you ever closer, eliminating all sense of space and you can feel every outline of his taunt muscle against your body.
“What kind of a problem are you going through Jimin?” you whisper, not daring to move when one centimeter difference would mean his rosy lips pressed against yours. Even if you know damn well you’re the root cause of his problems you’re not exactly keen on addressing the elephant in the room.
“Heart problems.” Jimin murmurs a corner of his lips quirking at the pun and you can’t help but roll your eyes, this is the cheesy Jimin you’re used to.
“You’re a bit too young for that Mr. Park.” you comment, giggling despite yourself.
“You’re killing me, (y/n).” Jimin murmurs all playfulness drained from his tone and instead is replaced with his plea. He places his lips against the crown of your head, even the barest brush of his lips, a gentle caress of a butterfly kiss at most, causes a shiver to run down your spine and Jimin smirks, reveling in the way your body is more honest than your words.
“Did you miss me?” he places the lightest of kisses against your cheek, your blood rushing to meet the touch of his lips, no doubt coloring your cheeks and heating up your skin from the inside out.
“Y-yes.” you manage to stutter when he stares you down at your lack of response.
“Good. I missed you too.” he continues his maddening trail of kisses, “You were so mean to run out on me like that (y/n).”
“I didn’t—“ but his other hand hushes your excuse, his index finger pressed onto your lips.
“Don’t lie, you’re bad at it.” he commands, his gaze stern, “Now, (y/n), I need to answer your questions properly. You ran out before I could answer them.”
Gears in your head are turning a mile a minute until you realize with horror that the lingering question you asked him was “So what if I’m jealous?” Oh god, that was a mistake. Head hung low in shame, you’re trying your best to avoid his gaze but he traps your chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look him in the eyes, the sincerity in them.
“I want you to be jealous.” he says, holding back his smile when he can hear your heart beating faster at his confession, in contrast your thoughts come to a screeching halt. God this is embarrassing, you bemoan but you can also feel Jimin’s heart hammering out of his chest and you finally allow yourself to fantasize that maybe, he feels the same way.
“I was happy that you were jealous. That might sound strange but, hell, I get jealous too. The way other guys look at you, I wished how I could have chased them away, but you’re not mine.” Jimin is beginning to blush at his brazen words but you can’t help but smile at the way rose dust his cheeks and settle intensely at the tips of his ears.
“So will you put me out of my misery and be mine?” Jimin asks, his eyes glistening with anticipation, the hand at the small of your back pressing you ever closer and you’re both smiling by the time you choke out a mangled “Yes” your lips in between his plush ones.
It feels so good to kiss Park Jimin. The way his lips fit perfectly against yours, all those late nights staying up wondering what he would feel like—what he would taste like— seem to pay off at this very moment when his tongue is gently swiping at your bottom lip and you greedily grant him access, your excitement apparent when you nip at his bottom lip. His minty taste is addictive and you never wanted to stop. Your fingers tangle in his blonde strands, soft under your fingertips and you tug firmly at the wisps at the nape of his neck.
“(y/n),” Jimin growls against your mouth, placing a small peck on your lips as warning, “you’re really testing my patience right now.” he groans when you begin to trial kisses down the column of his throat, his milky skin blossoming with nebulas of lilac and scarlet with your ministrations. “Maybe I like teasing you.” you hum, working a bruise against his collarbone causing him to hiss at your words and the way you run your tongue against the reddening skin. “I want to take you out on a date at least.” he whimpers when you repeat the action on the other side of his neck, the chills running down his spine a sharp contrast to his words. Despite his protest, his hands run down to cup your bottom, squeezing you closer to him. In his position you can feel his erection on your thigh, causing heat to blossom at the pit of your stomach at the mere contact. Strange how you’re both stubborn with your words, a match made in heaven really. “Hmm is that so?” you hum as you nip at his earlobe, his piercings cold against your lips. “Your body seems to be saying otherwise.” you note as you push your knees experimentally upwards causing Jimin to groan and lean back, only to plop ungracefully down on the bed, the mattress letting out a squeak at the added weight. You also let out a squeal when your body lands on top of his, relishing the newfound closeness that comes with gravity as it pulls you down on him.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” he grasps when you straddle him against the mattress, placing your center against his, grinding down on his raging member and feeling your own wetness collect at the action. You laugh at the role reversal and busy your lips by swallowing his protests.
“Mhhmm Jimin,” you mewl when he pushes his hips upwards in rhythm with yours, “I need you.” you pant and there’s a split second of indecision in Jimin’s eyes before he props himself up with a muttered Fuck it, and sits up to grasp the hem of his tank top to discard the useless article of clothing along with his joggers.
Somewhere in your fumbling to peel off your top, you end up settling on Jimin’s thigh, the firm muscle underneath your throbbing core causing you to shudder and pause in your task. Jimin props you up, skillfully ridding you of your shorts and bra before placing you back on this thigh, the thick muscle smooth save for the way your lace panties are rubbing against your clit.
“God you’re so beautiful.” he groans, watching the way you’re hesitantly rocking on his thigh for some much needed friction.
“How did I ever get so lucky.” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss down the valley between your breasts, his swollen lips pausing to suck a bruise onto your collarbones before licking experimentally at your nipple. Your reaction is explosive as you lean backwards, jutting your chest farther towards his mouth, “Fuck, Jimin.” you keen, the sensations overwhelming your senses. “Ride my thigh baby, come on” he mouths against the skin of your other breast, swirling his tongue mischievously along the surface but lightly, driving you insane with his feather light touch, electricity crawling on your skin with each swipr of his tongue and brush of his fingertip. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” he sighs, watching the way your lace panties are practically ruined scraps on your hips; his thighs glistening with your arousal. His hands grips your hips hard enough to leave bruises and forces you along the taunt muscle of his thigh, his tiny pants of encouragement forcing you closer to your release, the knot in the put of your stomach tightening at the way he’s drinking the sight of you in, pupils dilated and whines pouring out of his mouth without inhibition.
Drunk in lust. “Touch yourself for me, baby girl.” he moans when you grind roughly down on him and watch as you begin to trail your right hand down to your core, your fingertips against your little bundle of nerves, pushing the lace to one side and granting Jimin full view of your swollen clit. He lets out high pitched whines when you begin to rub figure eights on yourself, his gaze fixated on the lewd view in front of him. Your moans become frequent and your hips frantic against his thigh, the profanities leaving your lips at an equally fast pace. “Come for me princess.” he moans into your ear and that’s all it took for you to release all over his thigh, your vision flashing in white from the overwhelming pleasure. “Ahh Jimin!” you cry out, nails digging into his back, his hands forcing your hips to keep moving until you cringe away from the over sensitivity.
Plopping down on the mattress, you’re still recovering when Jimin takes your right hand, fingers coated with your arousal, and pops your index and middle finger into his mouth, his velvety tongue causing you to hum at the sensation, newfound embers of arousal beginning to rekindle.
His pupils are blown out, the darkness and lust in them drawing you in. “You taste amazing,” Jimin sighs, licking your ring finger clean, his eyes never leaving yours, “but I can wait to taste you another time.” “I’ll eat you out every morning until you beg me to stop, ” His promise making you shiver with anticipation, “but now I really need to feel you around me, baby.” Your lust filled eyes take in his reclining figure, the way his back is relaxed against his headboard, his cock standing proudly against his smooth abs, leaking with his arousal. Crawling towards him, you chuckle at the way his breath catches in his throat when you grip his length, the tip red and angry from all your teasing and you decide to indulge in your desires when you lean down to lick a stick along the thick vein running down the side of his shaft. “Holy shit, baby” Jimin whines when you suck the tip into your mouth, your tongue teasing the slit and tasting a bit of pre-cum when Jimin pulls you off his cock with a tiny pop. “I need you on me, princess.” He commands, strangely calm despite his clear need and you glue slightly before climbing towards him, grinding your glistening folds against his cock. “Stop being a fucking cocktease and ride me.” he growls, his authoritative tone causing you to hurriedly push yourself onto his lap, gripping his base of his member tight and slowly easing yourself onto him, earning a hiss from him and a loud moan from you. Jimin’s hands instantly returns to your waist, the silver adoring his fingers digging into your heated flesh. You’ve never been so full. The ache of the stretch is delicious and the way Jimin pants against your neck is doing wonders for your arousal as you begin to over your hips in tight circles, causing Jimin to whine at the base of your throat, placing sloppy wet kisses there. Letting him adjust, you rake your nails through his gold locks slightly scratching his scalp, causing Jimin to keen at the sensation.
You’re working into a steady rhythm, lifting you self up on his cock and bouncing back down, the sound of skin slapping against skin sounding through the room and you’re mildly worried about the audience downstairs when Jimin braces his feet against the bed and thrusts up into you particularly hard. A scream is ripped from your throat, all pretenses of being discreet wiped clean from your mind.
“Jimin! Jimin! Please, ah fuck.” you mewl, “I’m so close.” “Me too, baby girl, ah don’t grip me like that.” Jimin groans, his mouth coaxing yours into open mouthed kisses; messy with pants and groans. You’re dripping down his length at this point so when he presses his finger against your clit once again, you’re thrown over the edge, the euphoria from your release painting the black of your eyelids with galaxies and your eyes to roll back in pleasure. You’re riding out the waves of bliss when Jimin whimpers at the way your walls are gripping his member, milking his own release out of him and he frantically thrusts, chasing the high.
Soon you feel his release paint your walls, the warmth causing you to shudder as you lay boneless on top of him, both your sweat covered skin sticking to one another but neither of you could move away, too busy basking in the afterglow.
Jimin moves first, easing his softening length out of you; both of you grimacing at your combined releases running down your thigh.
“Just wait here okay?” Jimin mumbles, his voice warm and sweet like honey and milk and you nod dumbly at his request, frankly you probably can’t even get up even if you tried since you can already feel soreness seeping into your hips. Jimin shrugs on joggers after roughly cleaning himself with some tissues before sneaking out into the hallway. He returns with a damp towel, cleaning up the mess both of you made, the warm cloth against your sensitive folds causing you to choke on the breath you were taking and Jimin chuckles in amusement which in turn earns him a smack on the chest from you.
He rummages through his closet, coming up with a pair of his plain black boxers and slipping it on you before picking up his abandoned hoodie from the ground and sliding it on your form.
“What now?” you mumble, sleepiness already dragging you towards Dreamland.
“Now we cuddle and then I will make you breakfast in the morning because my girl deserves it.” he says, winding his arm around your middle so that your head rests against his chest, surrounding you with his strange citrus and mint scent, albeit now tainted with the smell of sex. You never thought Park Jimin was one for post sex cuddles, but you’re too entranced by the way his warm embrace is lulling you towards to sleep to care. Your heart hammers at the term of endearment and you place a modest peck on his cheek as a silent thank you.
“I love you.” he mumbles into your hair when he thought you’ve fallen asleep.
“I love you too.”
.
.
.
“Good Morning (y/n).” Jungkook greets you the next morning, his eyes hawklike in their scrutiny.
“Pleasant time last night?” He asks and you hum in agreement taking a careful sip from the scolding hot coffee mug. Jimin chooses that moment to stroll into the kitchen,his smile blinding as the morning sun, as he casually gives you a peck on the lips,
“Good Morning, babe.”
“So we’re even now right, Hyung?” Jungkook says, smirking at the way your eyebrows raise with interest.
“Just remember, I was the best wing man in this entire relationship.” Jungkook declares, handing you your Calculus notebook,
“I finished my math requirement since last semester (y/n), but thank you”
“I’m going to give you three seconds to run you fucking brat.”
“Kids! Not my kitchen!”