Discover Top Posts Tagged with #sehunpeachy

about last night (m)

prologue

⇒pairing: jimin x reader

⇒genre: enemies to lovers | explicit smut, fluff and angst

⇒length: 15k

⇒summary: you had promised yourself; if you were to ever hook up with that asshole park jimin, it would be just a one night stand.

a/n: dis was a monster to write im so tired. i stayed up until 12pm to finish this and now its finally done :) also how does every new fic i write get dirtier and dirtier?? idk.

Call yourself old-fashioned, but you were not one for parties. Maybe it was the old soul inside your college student body peeking out of its seams, but you had a natural tendency to skip out on big get-togethers with beer and people and music and messes.

But here you are.

At a party.

You had no idea whose house this was, but it seemed like nobody cared, as long as they had a cup of alcohol in their hands and loud enough music to fade away any conversation. The room was stuffy with a low ceiling that only made you feel more enveloped in the huddle of people.

You feel a deliberate brush of your arm and turn around.

“Y/N! Drink!” Jungkook yells over the sound of an overhead bass, holding one red solo cup at his side and another towards you.

“It’s 9 pm,” you reply, arching an eyebrow. He frowns and you realize it’s because he doesn’t hear you, so you lean in closer. “Its. 9. P.M!”

“So?” He pulls back immediately, eyebrows creased and a grin plastered on his face, throwing his hands up and spilling some of the drink onto the wooden floor. “Any time is a good time to get drunk!”

You laugh. “Maybe later.”

“What?”

“I said maybe later!”

Suddenly his arm is slung around yours, spilling more of the alcohol. He downs the drink in one go, then crushes it between his fingers and throws to the side somewhere. “Woo!” He yells towards the ceiling with his fist in the air.

“That was one cup,” you say, holding onto the wrist of his overslung arm.

“First of many,” he responds, stumbling over his feet slightly and almost taking you down with him. You sigh as you drag his practically limp body to a quiet corner away from everything.

The moving and shouting crowd looks almost unbearable to navigate through, and the almost intoxicating smell of alcohol laced in Jungkook’s breath doesn’t make it easier.

You’re finally out, the gradient of people reaching a manageable level. You scan the area for somewhere to sit and spot an empty couch. It’s a shade of brown that makes it easy to tell how old it is and the sides & seams are frumpy, but it will do.

Somebody passes by with a tray of more drinks and Jungkook sloppily picks a cup up before you haul his body down onto the sofa. He falls with a noise of surprise, alcohol staining his denim jeans but he pays it no mind, the drink already down his throat as you take a more graceful seat next to him.

You both bask in the moment for a while, looking around the groups of people on the dancefloor and on the sidelines. A comforted silence falls over you two, and it gives Jungkook a perfect opportunity.

“Don’t look, Y/N,” he says, turning his head towards you, “but I see Park Jimin.”

Your eyebrow crooks, your face failing to show any amusement as his statement. “What makes you think I want to look anyways?”

Jimin was a constant presence in your life, to your absolute disdain. Star athlete, top student, and a permanent smirk on his face, as if he enjoyed receiving your snarky comments and watching your eyes roll. It wasn’t that he was good at everything, it was that he loved getting the right attention for it, and that’s what pissed you off the most.

You knew you wouldn’t like him the moment you met him. Sweating in his uniform, hair pushed back and rolls of sweat staining his face in a slightly attractive manner. A ball gets kicked towards the bleachers, hitting your shoulder and nudging your body backwards. You let out a grunt and Jungkook found it difficult to die down his laughter as your face twisted in pain and you nursed your arm.

“For fuck’s sake,” you mutter. “This is why I never sit next to the field.”

“Hey you!”

You turn towards the voice, your face still aghast.

“Throw the ball back!”

Who the hell was this kid? He was putting his weight on one leg, arm on hip and the other behind his neck, like you owed him something.

“You just hit me!” You yell back, eyebrows furrowed. Jungkook holds back a giggle.

“You were in the way,” he responds and a few of his team mates watching the conversation snicker. Anger slowly rises up to your throat, feeling it scratch the insides and stain it with fire red.

“Are you fucking serious?” You say, leaning forward in your seat. “You’re not gonna apologize for hitting somebody?”

He begins walking towards you, and you can finally distinguish his features from just a figure playing on the field. His bottom lip is trapped in his teeth before he speaks. “Listen, baby—”

“Baby?” You shout in outrage, suddenly standing up.

That was the first time you see him smirk. “You don’t like that nickname? Maybe sweet cheeks? Baby girl? Princess?”

He was now right up against the bleachers, lifting a leg to rest on one of the seats and you try not to get distracted by his calves.

“I’ll give you your fucking ball back,” you say, turning back to grab it between your fingers, “just so you can leave me alone.”

When you face him again, you see he had been shamelessly staring at your ass, slowly lifting his gaze to meet your eyes again with amusement. You feel your cheeks heat up, mostly in anger.

“Here,” you say bitterly, using all your force to give him a hard chest pass. “Perv.”

“Thanks, baby,” he twists the ball around in his hands as he continues staring at you. “Maybe I’ll kick more balls to you in the future.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes and sitting back on the bleachers. You dismiss him completely after that, making sure his stare left you and he was back to the game before you sneak him one more glance.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” You ask Jungkook, rolling your eyes again. “Like seriously, who does he think he is?”

“You don’t have to fake it, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a smile, observing your face.

“Fake what?”

He chuckles. “Nevermind.”

After that incident, Jimin created a personal agenda to piss you off. Teasing and throwing comments at you in the corridors, almost all inherently perverted, whistling at you across the field and claiming “that goal was for you baby!”, slinging his arms over you unexpectedly to whisper crude things in your ear.

He was a fly to you, unlike what everybody said about you and him; that the two of you were always hate fucking in shower rooms after his practice, that you were actually deeply in love and didn’t want anybody to find out, that he cheated on you and all this is an attempt to get you back.

The mere thought of his face and his teasing voice and snide comments made your heart race, and not in the good way. In the way that made your face turn red and your fists clench and your teeth grit. He brings out the worst, most angry and irritated version of you. And you didn’t want anything to do with him.

But you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t find him attractive. Of course, he was attractive. His soft features in spite of his sharp tongue, the young boyish aura filling the air around him, his thick lips and swollen eyes and flat button nose. You hated that the worst people happened to be also the most beautiful.

“You don’t want to look? Is that why you love watching him leave all the time?” Jungkook asked, playfulness etched on his tongue.

“I’m so elated he doesn’t have to be in the same room as me anymore, I have to watch to make sure I’m not dreaming,” you shoot back.

“It isn’t because his jeans fit around the curve of his ass so well?”

You nudge Jungkook with the intent to spill his drink on the floor, hopefully distracting him from the light laughter building in your stomach and the crawling blush on your face.

As Jungkook lets out noises of anguish at the spilled alcohol on his shoes, your head turns towards the crowd, and sure enough Jimin was standing there. The mere sight of him made you scoff and roll your eyes. He was leaning against a wall, surrounded by a group of his regular friends, all perhaps just as bad as he was, but he definitely gave them a run for their money with that title.

His blonde locks shone in the fluorescent lights of the room and he was sporting ripped jeans that perfectly accentuated his thighs and honey golden skin. He was chuckling and for some reason you couldn’t look away, especially as he lifted an arm to run fingers through his hair, revealing the skin of his forehead and the well-built solid muscles in his biceps, straining against his black shirt.

Then you’re snapping your head back to Jungkook’s face of annoyance, like Jimin was a flower of poison, beautiful to look at but forbidden to touch.

“These are new shoes, Y/N.”

“Good riddance.”

The song changes and it’s something Jungkook recognizes. He turns to you in a child-like excitement, mouth hung open and eyes wide.

“I love this song! Hear that beat?” He yells and you can’t help but smile. “Wait for the drop!” He puts up a finger in anticipation, carefully hanging onto every note before a loud thud is played, making him jerk in joy. “That’s some fucking good shit!”

“You’re only two drinks in,” you begin saying, letting your head rest against the couch and staring at him in amusement.

Your best friend was like a free source of entertainment when he had enough alcohol in his system, which is maybe why you felt compelled to come here tonight with him. Still, you had been hoping to just sit and talk with him rather than do all the things people normally do at parties, like dance with strangers and puke your insides out.

“I want shots,” he declares, suddenly pushing himself off the couch. You put your hand on his chest to stop him.

“Let’s just stay here a while,” you begin protesting but he’s up again, on his feet now.

“I’m getting you three!” Jungkook says with the appropriate number of fingers up and his voice entailing glee at his statement. You watch as his familiar silhouette disappears into a crowd of unfamiliar.

You sigh, because this is why you don’t go to parties. The last time Jungkook dragged you to a party, he was almost immediately swept away by a bombshell with red lips and long legs, forcing you to make your own way back to your dorm. You were shivering, cold, and admittedly slightly tipsy.

Your eyes swim past the sea of people, focusing on narratives that caught your attention. A slightly flustered guy goes up to a girl, leaning on his arm against the wall next to her head and suggestively nudging his head towards the dance floor before she’s scoffing and walking away. A lone senior is holding a cup in his hands and idly leaning against the wall, watching the party go by before his eyes. Two equally drunk freshmen compete in a dare of how many shots they can take in a minute with a group of people surrounding them in a frenzy and yelling words of encouragement.

“Y/N! You wouldn’t believe what just happened!”

You’re snapped out of your fixation, your gaze clicking onto Jungkook, who was back with a number of shots even in the crooks of his arms. “Jesus,” you hiss, shaking your head and standing up.

“I just got all of these shots,” he begins saying as you aid him in taking a few glasses from his grasp, “for free!”

Your eyebrows furrow as you place the shots down somewhere on the closet surface. “How did you manage that?”

“This hot chick was in charge of shots, right? Apparently we have some class together,” he begins and you have a feeling you’ve already heard this story before.

You turn back to look at him so he could continue but as you do so, he accidently drops a glass onto the floor. The noise of shatter never comes over the loud music as it explodes right in front of you two.

“Oh shit!” Jungkook says, jumping back to avoid the accident and then clumsily tumbling down all the rest of the drinks on the couch. The contents spill onto the cushions but you know he’s too drunk to realize.

“God, Kook,” you mutter, bending down to pick up a shard. You feel a sharp prick at your skin and you let out a yelp, straightening yourself up.

“Oh god, did you cut yourself?” He asks in concern, rushing to your side. You hold your finger to your face, watching rusty blood trickle down, burning as seconds pass.

That was it.

“I’m going to bed,” you announce, making sure the venom in your tone was clear and slipping past Jungkook.

“Y/N—”

“Have fun, Jungkook.”

“Come on! The party's just begun!”

“I said—”

“We’ll go to that pizza place you love so much after. Only if you stay,” he says as he plops himself down on the sofa only to twist his face in disgust as he makes contact with the soggy, whiskey stained cushions.

You pause. He knows you too well.

“Fine, but I just need some fresh air,” you reply, already turning away before he could protest. “I’ll be back,” you reassure just to make sure the deal of pizza was not off the tables just yet.

The crowd had increased in volume since the last time you were met with the dance floor. It squeezed and shifted and suffocated you as you tried to get past. Hands hit you and feet stepped on you, dancing bodies bumped and molded themselves against yours, stale alcohol overflows and spills from cups and onto your shoes.

You’re out of the house and away from all the drinks and noise and you could finally breathe. The air is brisk and fresh to your nostrils, clearing the smell of stuffiness that had engraved itself in your nose. You descend the stairs and take a seat on a porch step, leaning back to prop your arms up as you look around.

There are a few people outside, quietly making chatter amongst themselves. A couple relish in each other against a wall near the door, a group of boys play around with a pool floaty on the lawn, a figure holds his knees as he vomits the contents of his stomach onto the grass.

Closing your eyes and leaning further back against the step, you let the wind hit your face over the muted music back in the house and it feels so much better than any sip of alcohol you’ve ever taken.

You feel footsteps descend the stairs and then seat themselves next to you. Your eyes scrunch hard and you solidify your voice. “Jungkook, I said I’d be back.”

You hear a shift of a limb as no response comes and suddenly the aura of Jungkook leaves, just like that. You peel your eyes open and they land on the person next to you.

Your throat hitches as your eyes adjust to Jimin in all his frat party fuck boy glory. He mirrors your position, arms propped up and legs outstretched, looking out into the dark abyss beyond the house and up towards the dull sky.

“Do you need something?” You ask coldly after a while.

“Nice seeing you here, baby. You don’t come to parties enough,” he says, dismissing your question. His voice is sultry, probably because of how drunk he is.

“Maybe I don’t go because you’re always there,” you say, not meeting his gaze.

“What brings you here tonight then?”

“Jungkook,” you answer truthfully.

“Is that why you’re not with him?” Jimin asks. “Hoping you’d run into me?”

You click your tongue in disgust. “Fuck off.”

He laughs in response, never taking anything seriously. “It’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to be honest with me.”

“When am I not?” He laughs again.

“How the party treating you so far?”

“It’s shit.”

“Until I came around?”

“That’s when it started. Why are you here, again?”

He puts his weight on one elbow so he can pull up the sleeve of his other arm, exposing the soft milky skin to you, and then his pulsing green veins underneath. Fuck, you weren’t even drunk.

“Saw you leave and I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he answers and you roll your eyes. “Have I ever told you I love watching you leave?”

“Jimin, honestly, can you fuck off? I’m here to get some fresh air away from the conundrum of people and booze for just a few minutes. I really have no energy to deal with you right—”

“Do you hate parties just as much as I do?” Jimin interrupts to change the subject, looking at you again and it catches you off guard.

You’re silent for a few seconds before you realise he feeds off your speechlessness. “You don’t hate parties.”

“I do.”

“You don’t—”

“Trust me, baby. I hate them,” Jimin says as he looks back into the dark night sky.

“Why are you always attending them then?”

“Because I thought you liked them.”

You scoff, which you seem to do all the time when you’re around him. “You’re never gonna drop it, are you?”

“It?” He questions, leaning in further.

“You know what I mean,” you mumble, breaking eye contact. This is the first time you’ve ever been alone with him and suddenly, you’re not sure why you’re here when you could be back in the party with your drunk, slightly intolerable, best friend. It wasn’t ideal, but anything would be better than with Jimin. “I’m gonna go back—”

“Let’s sit and talk for a while.” He says, his fingers reaching to encase your wrist. “I know you’d rather be out here than inside that party.”

“You’re right,” you start and he beams. “The problem is you’re here. You see my dilemma?” His smile instantly drops, letting go of your wrist and you hold back a giggle.

“You know, Y/N,” he says as he rolls his head around for a stretch, “I don’t think we know each other very well. You haven’t seen the real me because we’re always surrounded by other people.”

“And thank god, because I have a restraint to not strangle you.”

“I would love for you to strangle me.”

“God, shut up,” you groan and he laughs, biting his lip. You realise you still haven’t left yet, and you have no idea why. It wouldn’t be hard to go to just get up and go back inside, but it also wouldn’t take much for those harbored feelings of pure attraction you’ve always had to rise.

“So I’ve convinced you to stay?”

“Luckily, the only thing I hate more than you is parties.”

“You sure Jungkook wouldn’t mind you here sitting with me?”

Your attention is caught at his words. Why was he even thinking about Jungkook?

“It’s not his business,” you answer and you see Jimin’s chest relax. “I’m sure he’s having a perfectly fine time back inside.” Your voice was more bitter than you intended, your finger still aching from its gash.

“Trouble in paradise?”

You frown at him. “We’re not a thing.”

Jimin smiles. “That’s good.”

“Is it now?” You ask, crooking an eyebrow, being so unlike your usual character by coaxing a line out of him.

“Means I get you to myself.” Your heart kicks. “You know, it’s a real shame we don’t have any classes together,” he continues. “I’m sure we would be a lot closer if we did.”

“We’re just different people then,” you reply.

“Opposites attract,” Jimin says, looking up at you through hooded eyes and you roll yours.

“That’s a myth.”

“It’s science. You ever played with magnets?”

“Magnets aren’t people,” you say, the conversation bringing you amusement and you’re surprised at how much you like talking to him.

He’s watching you, catching how your lips are twitching to hold back a smile. You look at him, and then you’re both staring at each other. Your eyes land on his full plush lips, slightly wet from his saliva and it reflects in the porch lights.

This is a bad idea. This cannot and should not escalate to anything. This is Park Jimin, for god’s sake. No amount of jokes and light touches will make you swoon for him, or at least more than you might already do behind closed doors.

“What’s your major, anyways?” You ask, fidgeting with a loose thread on your skirt.

“Guess,” Jimin challenges, breaking the silence and you scoff.

“Nursing,” you say without thinking.

“What?” He lets out a noise of surprise and you fall into fits of light laughter at his outrage. “Nursing? That is the least masculine thing you could have thought of.”

In the middle of his statement, he begins laughing too, loving how your laugh sounds. He doesn’t ever hear it, but he’s sure you laugh a lot, just not around him.

“Nothing wrong with male nurses,” you say after your laughter dies down a bit. “I think it’s an attractive job.”

His eyes widen. “Is that so?”

“That is so.”

“Well, I’ll be changing my major then,” he replies and you scoff. “I’m a history major.”

“History?” You repeat. “Star athlete with a history major?”

“It’s a random combo, I’ll admit,” Jimin says, shaking his head from side to side to ruffle his hair. You like watching him play with his hair, you realise, especially this up and close. “I’m just very good at it, so I started liking it.”

You don’t say anything and he smiles.

“My favourite era is Ancient Rome,” he continues, making you grin. “If it wasn’t for Ancient Rome, we wouldn’t have languages or law systems or complex architecture.”

“This is weird, hearing you talk about something more than tits and ass,” you admit and he chuckles.

“I only like one specific pair” Jimin says, leaning into you again. Your heart flutters, and you almost don’t recover from the comment.

“I like those robes they used to wear,” you divert, dismissing his words and showing no signs of fluster.

“Tunics,” he corrects and you giggle.

“Whatever, history major.”

“And what about your major, then?”

“Business,” you reply and he nods. “Don’t act like it’s interesting.”

“You’re right,” Jimin says with a grin. “That sounds boring.”

“Says the history major.”

“Says the business major.”

“Fair enough,” you say as you readjust your position and pull your legs further in. You feel his gaze on you but you can’t gather the courage to look at him. You feel as though if you did, the tension between you two would snap like a thin piece of rope and you would melt right into him.

Park Jimin, the ever obnoxious yet ridiculously good looking. Always giving you the extra attention to make you blush or make you angry; maybe a mixture of the two, but the motive had always been for a show, to make his friends laugh, to entertain onlookers. But there was no show tonight; just you, and him.

“You know, I really love your outfit,” Jimin says, looking you up and down.

You let out a small smile, catching his eyes only momentarily. “I only get this fancy for important occasions, like this run down frat party.”

“Skirts really suit you,” he says, paying extra attention to your bare legs. “You should wear them more often.”

Silence. “Maybe I will.”

He looks up at you, shocked that you’re finally returning his flirty lines before the expression is wiped off and replaced with a smirk. But this smirk was different to any other smirk he’s given you. Your words get caught in your esophagus as he begins looking at you like a predator looks at his prey.

“I’d love to see your thighs out like this around campus. You should wear them just around me though, otherwise I’d get too jealous.”

You feel heat rush to your core at his words, suddenly close enough to smell him, and he smells like fresh woody cologne.

In fact, Jimin had worn that cologne just in case he ran into you at this party. As he does at every party, and every night.

To your relief, both your attentions are averted behind you, breaking whatever had just ensued. The couple that had been indulging in one another from earlier were now aggressively reaching for each other’s faces as the kiss elevated. You could hear moans and grunts and sighs before they both disappear inside the house, most likely to find an empty room.

Your stare lingers, and when you turn back to Jimin, he’s already looking at you. His eyes are sharp, moving with a purpose and digging into your face.

“Listen, Y/N,” he says and it’s barely a whisper. Warmth involuntarily floods to your center and excitement rushes throughout your being. “I’d really love to spend a night with you, just one night.”

Your face heats up at his words, a hand subconsciously going to your heart as if to stifle it. There’s a long pause after he says those words, and Jimin panics that it was too soon to say anything, regret already settling in and seeping into his chest.

“Is that so?” You finally say and Jimin lets out a sigh he didn’t know he had been holding. It was late, you were annoyed at your best friend and at yourself for being at this party, and the guy you’re constantly thinking of had just offered the deal of a lifetime. Why not?

He leans so close to your face that he can practically feel the heat emitting from you. His mouth hovers over the shell of your ear and you grab his sleeve to keep yourself steady. “That is—very—much so,” he whispers and your entire body trembles.

His hand goes to yours and you flinch as a finger make contact with your gash. He suddenly pulls back with concern.

“It’s nothing, it’s just a cut,” you barely say with no awareness that your voice had run completely dry. He continues to stare at you so you show him your finger. It had been a while since it had been opened, but a small trickle of blood still rolls down.

Then he’s grabbing your finger and bringing it to his mouth, enveloping it inside and circling his tongue around your skin.

You can’t move because you’re solely fixated on the sight, and it shoots straight to your center. You’re sure you’ve never seen anything more erotic, but then you realize he still had his clothes on. The feeling of his slick tongue and the warmth of his mouth makes you jut your hips out and roll them into nothing.

Jimin pulls away from your finger, saliva connecting it to his wet lips, clearly enjoying the taste of your blood. You let out a guttural groan, making him chuckle in a sultry voice.

“You taste good,” Jimin grumbles. “Just like I knew you would.”

His hand goes to brush the side of your legs and you cross them in response to create friction in your core. He leans back to look at you, teeth between his plush pink lips and his eyebrow raised before he’s nudging your legs open again. You oblige and his hands encase around your lower thigh.

His lips graze the skin of your jaw and you shiver. Your eyes can barely stay open as pure pleasure overtakes your body. You’ve never been so attracted to somebody with so much little done.

“Jimin,” you murmur and his hand moves up your thigh, closer to the hem of your skirt and the band of your underwear. Your nails are now digging into the material of his shirt, clutching onto him so hard because if not, you would not be sitting upright.

Tired of not knowing how his lips felt, you pull your face towards him and lace your lips against his. It’s soft and slow and sensual. He groans, gripping your skin even tighter as his plush lips move and mold against you. You pull away to breathe and he begins laying kisses on your jaw and down your neck.

“God,” you hiss under your breath and you feel him smirk. He begins making love to your neck, sucking the skin and tonguing it over. “J-Jimin…”

“Oh, baby,” he says as he breaks contact with your neck, mouth and chin wet with a string of saliva connecting you to him. You clench at the nickname. For the first time, it sounds perfect rolling off his tongue.

He groans at your flustered state, finally sliding his hand up your skirt and thumbing the band of your underwear. He lifts it and lets it snap against you before he’s running his hand over your waist.

You let out a moan as he continues sucking your neck to oblivion, making him pull away and smash his lips against yours again. His tongue enters the seams of your lips, massaging itself against yours and licking your teeth.

The hand under your skirt began to snake towards the front, playing with the edge of your underwear and momentarily snapping it so a rush of cool air can hit your center. You moan a bit louder and it makes somebody near the house turn their head to you.

A rush of embarrassment goes to your face, but you forget everything when he slips his fingers into the material and brushes against you. “Fuck…Jimin.”

He slides his fingers up your center to collect the juices and you’re absolutely breathless. He knows exactly what to do, circling around before he’s pinching your clit and flicking it back & forth.

Then, it’s over and he’s slipping his fingers out of your underwear. Jimin stares at your arousal that stains his hands before he’s encasing them into the warm envelope of his mouth. His eyes wistfully close and you hold back touching yourself at the sight.

He peels his eyes open to the electrifying sight of your panting chest and bruised mouth, dragging his fingers down from his lips. He enlivens a carnal instinct in you and your hand buries itself in his hair to bring your face to his, chasing your taste on his tongue.

“You’re so good,” he whispers, burning his fingers on your waist.

“Fuck, Jimin. Please,” you beg.

“Anything for you. You know I’d do anything for you,” he whispers. It’s so erotic and so intimate, making your heart shiver and your clit throb at the same time. “But not here.”

You break from the kiss, already on your feet and dragging him up. He chuckles at your enthusiasm as you push through the doors to enter the house again, the room throwing a red fluorescence over your figures and blasting music into your ears.

There were more people on the dance floor than ever. It was loud and messy and tight, but it made your heart race even more. You turn back to Jimin and his stare is digging into you before he’s closing up the space between you two and kissing your lips.

His hands wrap themselves around your waist and you wrap yours around his neck. He’s so intoxicating and addicting, the touch and taste of him is something so right you wish you would have done this sooner. His tongue massages your mouth and gives kitten licks against your lips before biting them down between his teeth.

He pulls away and drags you through the crowd. You’re suddenly reminded how now the two of you were out in the open, and anybody could have just witnessed what had happened. Especially Jungkook.

God, if Jungkook would have seen the two of you, he would never let this down.

Regret starts to sink in and cloud your vision. What will happen after this party? After tonight? Not just about how people are going to act around you and what they’ll say, but what will happen between you and Jimin?

You can no longer think once Jimin and you are out of the crowd and he's leading you up the stairs. You’re looking at him again, and his face is absolutely giddy. His cheeks are flushed pink and protruding from his profile, and his warm eyes disappear into their swollen under bags as they do when he’s smiling so wide.

You don’t know what to think, so you don’t, ignoring the way your heart rate speeds up.

“You sure there’s an empty room?” You say over the music, still mindful not to bring too much attention to the two of you and panting as you run up the stairs with his hand still around your wrist.

“I’ll kick people out if I fucking have to,” Jimin replies, giving you a look over his shoulder, still smiling, but now it was laced with playful mischief as the edges of his mouth turn up.

The hallway is full of closed doors, each one so far seeming to be locked as Jimin tried to ram them open. You’re surprised that people full with alcohol and lust would still remember to lock, but then again, they might not even be drunk. Hell, you weren’t even drunk. But here you are, doing all the things you’ve never thought you’d be doing; hooking up with Park Jimin at a party, sober.

“There’s one last door,” you say, pointing to one hidden around the staircase. Jimin rushes to it and uses all his weight to push it open. The door was open already, causing Jimin to fall against it and crash onto the floor below.

No matter how turned on you were, this was still Park Jimin, and the sight of him falling replaying over and over again in your head made your stomach ache from laughter. You stagger inside, hand nursing your abdomen and closing the door behind you before you kneel by his side, still in hysterics.

You hear Jimin begin to laugh too, and it makes you open your eyes just so you could watch the sight. His teeth appear as his eyes disappear, the back of his hand reaching over to cover his open mouth. He’s really gorgeous, just as he always had been.

Suddenly his hand grabs your hips to pull your body towards him, your face only inches away from his.

“You know, I could take you here right now if you want,” he says so nonchalantly, and a shiver runs down your neck as you contemplate whether to look at his narrow sharp eyes drenched with dripping desire or at his bruised pink lips and how they pant and grunt and chase for breathe. You want to look at everything all at once.

“Why do that when we have a perfectly fine bed right here?” You say, your eyes indicating to the bed next to you two.

“Maybe you like to do it on the floor,” Jimin says, quickly getting up on his feet and picking you up to sling your legs around his waist. You allow him, putting your face into his neck, addicted to the intimacy of the moment. “This is our first time, baby. You need to teach me what you like.”

First time. Is he just saying that, or does he mean there will be more than just tonight? It’s all too much to process or think about, especially when he throws you down onto the bed and begins crawling over your body.

He’s kissing you again, and it feels like forever since the last time you’ve tasted his lips. They feel so plush and soft, and he’s like no other person you’ve ever kissed. It’s so electrifying and enlivening, and you could die happy with his lips against yours.

His hand begins wandering down, tickling the exposed skin of your ridden up shirt and then your thighs. He grips your thighs, hard, like he’s trying to mold his handprint into them. You grunt into the kiss, making him bit your bottom lip down and rendering you helpless.

His fingers continue inching up until they’re hovering over your stained underwear again.

“Jimin,” you grunt but this time out of frustration, breaking the grasp he had on your lips. “Fuck me already.”

Jimin laughs, causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“I’d never thought you’d say those words to me,” he says, leaning down to nip at your collarbones. “It’s always ‘fuck off’’ or ‘fuck you’, but never ‘fuck me’.”

“Jimin,” you hiss.

He ignores you, slowly crawling down, making sure to kiss and nip at every body part as he goes; the fabric over your breast, the skin of your exposed stomach, your hip bone that he pushes your skirt down to reach, your outer thighs, and then your knees.

You reach out for the roots of his hair, intertwining your fingers into his strands and pulling hard. He lets out a groan, clearly liking it, so you do it again.

With that, Jimin disappears under your skirt, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your inner thighs. His hand goes under too so he could hook his fingers over the fabric of your underwear to the side.

“Baby,” he mutters lowly. You shiver as his breath and the vibrations of his words hit your centre. You tug at his hair, and he takes it as an invitation to stick his tongue out and envelope the tip of it into your wetness.

You react immediately, jerking forward and scrunching your eyes shut. You’re completely weak with just so little done, and you begin to think it’s because you’re doing it with Jimin. Then nothing but pleasure overtakes your mind as he goes in again, collecting more of your juice and lapping it up.

He groans and grunts, making more vibrations run through you. You’re seeing stars like nobody has ever made you do so before. His tongue focuses on your clit, flicking it up and down rapidly before his soft plush lips wrap around the bud and begin to suck.

“J-Jimin,” you say as you grasp for air, now clutching his hair desperately. “Oh, god.”

His free hand goes to lift up your skirt completely so you can see him. He’s locking eyes with you, a cold hard stare burrowing into you as his lips keep sucking. You’re entranced by the part that connects you to him, and it encourages him to suck harder.

“I c-can’t,” you grunt. “I can’t—Jimin.”

His mouth releases your clit to run his tongue up and down your slit and you let out a cry.

“For—fuck’s sake Jimin!”

“You want to come with me in you?” He asks.

“P-please.”

“Me too, baby. But I also want you to come now,” he says, spacing out a few words with licks along your slit. “You can do it.”

“Asshole,” you mumble and he smiles. He hits a certain spot, causing you to jerk and strain under his hold and grip his hair even harder. “Ugh, you’re so good, Jimin. So, so good.”

He never relented, licking the same area over and over again. It’s completely black when you’re scrunching your eyes shut, spilling over on his tongue as fireworks go off in your bloodstream and through your entire body. You’re squirming around uncontrollably, letting out gasps of his name and little grunts of ecstasy. Jimin holds your hips down right on the mattress, his tongue never slowing.

It’s a few moments until the pleasure turns uncomfortable and you push his head away. He’s sitting upright, grasping your knee in one hand and cardings his fingers through his hair with the other, completely breathless.

You can see him through your eyes barely keeping themselves open, but he looks magnificent. Forehead exposed, chest panting, sleeves rolled up to show off the pulsing veins in his built forearms. And fuck, the expression on his face was like he just had an orgasm, not you. His mouth was hung open, slick with your arousal and so full and bruised. His eyes were narrowing in on you, hungry like a wolf looking down upon a deer.

Jimin’s tongue darts out to lick the rest of your come off his chin and around his mouth, and the sight makes you clench. He begins moving to you again, tenderly gripping your waist and fluently moving his mouth against yours.

You both break the kiss to lock eyes and rest your forehead against his. Your pants mix into each other, and you can’t help but smile at how sweet every moment he makes is.

A very, very, very bad idea.

You pull away from his face, moving over him so you’re straddling his lap. You’re here with him for the sex, nothing else.

“Woah there, baby,” Jimin is saying, watching you work on his belt. “You just came, we can take it slow—”

“I want you,” you interrupt, “like, now.”

“Are you sure?” You loop the belt off, now unbuttoning his pants.

“Jimin—”

“At least let’s turn the lights off first,” Jimin says, now very quickly, like he’s panicking.

You look up in concern, his pants now fully unbuttoned. “Why? You just—”

“Y/N, please, let’s turn off the lights,” Jimin says, his voice straining and grabbing your hands as if to stop them from moving. He stares down at you with his eyebrows creased in worry. He had called you by your name and not by ‘baby’ as he usually does, which told you something was off.

“Jimin, what’s wrong?” You ask, treading very slowly.

“Nothing!” He perks up, giving you a reassuring smile. “I just prefer—”

You shut him up by meeting your lips to his. He immediately relaxes his shoulders and grip, groaning softly into the kiss. He’s such a bad liar.

You begin playing with the helm of his shirt and smoothing your hands over his soft hips. He flinches and holds his breath hostage as your hands go further to caress his chest, slowly lifting the material with your movement.

“Y/N…” He whispers against your lips. You ignore him as you bend down to layer kisses against along his stomach. You feel it flex against your mouth, so you run the underside of your tongue against. He grunts, clenching the bedsheets in his fists before letting out a sigh of relief.

You’re facing him again before you lean in to gently peck the side of his neck. Your hands hold onto the material of his shirt, now exposing half of his upper body. “Jimin,” you mumble against his skin. He doesn’t reply. “Let me.”

There’s silence until he starts to nod his head, slowly and hesitantly, but very surely nodding. You lean back, giving him one last look before you’re lifting the shirt over his head. You feel his eyes never leave you, drenched in worry and self consciousness, watching your every face muscle for a reaction.

His chest is milky, olive with a slight gold undertone that doesn’t quite match the rest of his more bronzed landscape of skin, telling you he doesn’t take off his shirt very often. His abdomen is carefully built, but not as defined as you thought a top athlete would be. You hover your fingertips over the jagged indents of his stomach, lightly tickling him.

Jimin’s hands rise to cover the expanse of his chest from you. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

Your heart jumps. “For what?” Your hand goes to rest stationary on his hip bone, rubbing circles to soothe him.

“I’m not as—muscular—as you might have thought,” he responds very slowly and timidly. You’re shocked at this side of him you’ve never seen or dreamt of him even having, unable to string together thoughts to make sense of it. “I’ve just been–slacking off recently—”

“You’re beautiful,” you interrupt. His immediate reaction is to frown in disbelief, as if you’re just saying it, and you don’t know why your heart breaks for it. “How could you even think otherwise?” You whisper in a genuine question.

He doesn’t reply or meet your hard gaze, instead fidgeting with the bedsheets in his fingers.

“Jimin,” you say, now more sternly. “You’re beautiful.” You repeat so you can create the foundation to drill into his head until he believes it too. You return to nip at his collarbones, mumbling the words again and he grunts lowly.

“Y/N…”

You say it again; “You’re so beautiful”, as you begin sliding his jeans off to reveal his golden, mouth-watering thighs. He stops you to finish taking them off himself, kicking them off towards some corner.

“Fuck, Jimin. You’re so beautiful,” you mutter as you run your fingers over his leg muscles, and you mean it.

You slip your fingers into the band of his boxers. He holds his breath, watching as you slowly lift yourself off him to take them off completely. You pull yourself back onto his lap, only a few inches away from his arousal. He hesitates to grab for your hips, so you take his hands in yours and led them there.

He kisses you, incredibly soft so his lips barely graze over yours. It seemed so unnecessary for an act of pure lust, but it felt so right to you. Like you were meant to kiss him like this. His fingers lift from your hips to the edges of your shirt. Jimin looks up at you, as if asking for permission and you’re smiling when you nod.

He discards your shirt over your head, then unclips your bra, before immediately re-attaching himself to you by grabbing the side of your face and kissing you. You can barely breathe, grabbing his wrist for support and squirming on his lap.

“Shit, baby,” he murmurs. “Let’s get to it already.”

You laugh as his hands go to massage themselves on your ass under your skirt. Then he’s slipping your underwear down and throwing it away.

“Keep the skirt on,” he whispers in the shell of your ear and you stifle your giggles with your hand.

“You really do have a skirt kink,” you say, reaching out to rub his heat. He flinches, groaning against your shoulder, clearly liking the sudden act.

“Just you in one,” he replies and it makes you smile. “Sit on me.”

And you do, very gladly. You lift yourself up so there’s enough space, his cock between your hand. Your finger goes to rub over the head and collect some of the precum accumulating, making him moan. Then you align yourself with him and slowly sink down.

“Shit,” you hiss, throwing your head back.

He holds your waist to support you, beginning to drag you on his lap, slowly forward and then slowly backward. Fireworks go off in your pelvis and flows throughout your bloodstream.

“You feel so good,” Jimin says, biting your collarbones as one hand goes to massage your breast. “Baby,” he moans.

The tip of his head nudges a particular spot against your walls, and you jerk forward, grabbing his shoulders to keep you upright.

“You like that?” Jimin asks, finally showing that cocky side of him you’re so familiar with.

“No fucking—” He hits the spot again, making you lurch forward, the words stuck in your throat. “—Duh.”

He laughs, speeding up his thrusts. You’re moaning and grunting, and he joins in. The pressure, the heat, the thickness of him; it was all perfect. He knew exactly what to do, where to hit, how to grind against you so your clit would rub against his skin.

“How are you—so—good?” You ask, digging your nails into his shoulders. You don’t miss how his face lights up.

“Really?”

“Fuck—yes,” you barely let out. “You get laid often?”

“Honestly?” He says weakly, but you’re paying very little attention as the feeling of his cock inside you started to become too overwhelming.

You ride him slowly and thoroughly, feeling every inch and side of him, your mind clouded with pleasure.

You muffle a moan against his shoulder, biting it and etching your teeth into his skin.

“Not really,” Jimin mutters.

You forget what you’re even talking about, but you stopped caring when you feel your second orgasm coming.

“Fuck, Jimin!” You say, rolling and pressing your hips on his. “I’m gonna—”

“Y/N,” he says, grabbing your face with one hand and the other helping you ride him. “Come,” he commands, forcing you to look at him.

You feel your cheeks flush. No guy has ever done this, let alone a one-night-stand like Jimin. You do it anyway because you’re caught up in the moment and it makes you clench tighter against him. He keeps pushing you towards the point, further and further until it’s too much for you.

The wave of pleasure hits your entire body, rendering you immobile as you jerk and jut against him, your moans becoming a string of unrecognizable words and sounds. Your eyes are fluttering shut, but you make yourself look at him. His eyes burn themselves into you, ablaze with fire and lust. His mouth hangs open and you focus on how plush and full they are, slick with saliva, indented by his and your teeth marks.

Then you’re still. You let your head rest on him, taking deep breaths and taking in the whole situation. You nudge forward, his cock still in you, making him grunt.

“Baby,” he starts but you’re already off him and on your knees. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you say, holding him in your hands. He’s incredibly warm, burning and pulsing in your palm. You begin moving up and down, making him throw his hand back and revealing the soft expanse of his smooth straining neck.

You encase the tip around your mouth, overwhelmed with the emitting heat from it which then encourages you to lick it more. You take it out, running the underside of your tongue from the bottom to the top.

His hand is in your hair, pulling your roots. “Baby, god,” he pauses, taking a few deep breathes. “This is amazing.”

You swirl your tongue around his head before sucking lightly.

“Oh, Y/N, fuck,” he moans, going off in a tandem of praises. “You’re so per-fect.”

You dig your nails into his thighs, indenting little moons into his skin to remember you by. You start sucking more vigorously, increasing pressure and speed. He jerks forward, eyes scrunched shut and mouth slung open.

“Fuck, baby. I’ve always want-wanted—fuck—I’ve always wanted this,” Jimin admits in the midst of the pleasure. You ignore him—just for now, just until he comes—before you can process anything he’s saying.

And he does, and you take all of it into your mouth. The spurts are hot and quick and salty, but you let it all sit on your tongue. He stares down at you, carded eyes and a panting chest.

“Do you—” He begins to say, completely out of breath and it makes you proud, “—do you need a tissue?”

You don’t reply as you close your mouth and swallow all of it down your throat. Jimin’s face is astonished, amazed, and aroused all at the same time, until he sees your face twist in displeasure.

“You didn’t say you needed a tissue,” Jimin says through giggles.

“I wanted to prove you wrong,” you say, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, making him giggle harder. You get up on your feet, walking around the room to retrieve your discarded garments when he speaks again.

“What are you doing?” He says, still sitting on the bed.

Your eyes dart around, confused. “Getting my clothes?”

“You’re leaving?” He asks in disbelief, and because his voice gets higher, you think it’s also in disappointment.

“Oh,” you say, eyebrows furrowed. You were planning to get dressed and meet Jungkook downstairs after all of this had finished. After all, you had promised him you would be back and he had promised you some pizza. And most importantly, this was just a one night stand. Just.

“Stay with me,” Jimin says, tilting his head to the side and lowering his gaze on you. He makes it so compelling that your heart begins to yearn and give into what he wants.

“It’s just—”

“Stay, please,” he says again, now with a pout. He pats the empty spot next to him in encouragement, and the act is so endearing that your feet take over and begin walking towards him, completely forgetting the party and Jungkook and any complicated feelings.

His grin grows when he sees he’s convinced you, leaning towards the bedside table to turn off the lights. You’re both engulfed in darkness and deprived of the sense of sight, making each touch even more electrifying.

He reaches out for your hips to bring you on his lap again. You remember you’re both naked, flinching as his bare skin makes contact with yours. His hand caresses your neck as he brings you into a kiss before he’s throwing the both of you down into the bed.

You let out a noise of surprise, then a fit of giggles as you adjust to the new position. He searches for the bedsheets and pulls it over your naked figures. The sheets are slightly warm from the body heat you’ve both given it over the past hour or so, but cool enough to bring you a sense of relief.

Then Jimin is throwing his arm over you and dragging you closer to him. You oblige, feeling your eyelids grow heavier as his hand rests on your waist, slowly caressing and rubbing shapes into the skin. Your noses are touching and your lips hover over his. You can hear and feel everything about him, like how his eyelashes brush against your cheek when he blinks and how his breath and the movement of his chest gradually slows.

It’s not long before you’re growing restless in his arms, reaching out to lay your hand on his neck. He leans down to kiss your wrist, making your heart rate speed up at the gesture. Neither of you say anything, and it’s perfect and so calm and so sweet.

You leave it for yourself in the morning to rethink over everything between you and Jimin. But for now, you’re perfectly content with falling asleep right next to him to the sound of his heartbeat.

Your phone rings in your pocket. A few people who had their heads buried in their textbooks look up to lock narrowed eyes with you as the sound of your ringtone echoes throughout the room. You give them wordless nods of an apology, assuring them it won’t take long. But as you answer the call, you can’t even get a word out because of Jungkook’s overwhelming nagging into your ear.

“Y/N, where the hell were you yesterday? I waited three hours for you to show up! Three hours that I was completely alone, too guilty to take another drink, and on top of that, I didn’t even get laid. Why? Because you decided to just—ditch—me in the middle of a party!”

“Jungkook, can you please shut up for a second?” You say, rubbing your forehead to ease of the oncoming headache.

“Are you still mad because you got some cut on your finger? Is this what all of this is about?”

“Jungkook,” you grumble.

“Y/N,” Jungkook mimics you, sounding just as frustrated.

“Can we talk about this later? I’m in the library and you’re disturbing everyone here —”

“Then go to the bathroom,” he snaps and somebody lifts their head again. “We’re talking about this now—”

“Stop being so obnoxious all the time—”

“At least tell me you got laid,” he interrupts and your heart beat slows, “that’s the only excuse I’ll take from you.”

You’re meant to reply right away, make up some other excuse and have him hang up on you, but your words are stuck in your suddenly dry throat. He takes your silence as an answer.

“Holy shit, are you serious? You got laid?” You hear him laugh on the other end and you’re blaming yourself of how bad you are of a liar for even leading him to his conclusion. “Jimin’s not gonna be happy about that.”

Your body freezes at the mention of his name, unable to reply again. You sit there, mouth gaping and eyes wide, and you’re glad you’re only talking to Jungkook over the phone because he definitely would have called you out earlier.

“What? That wasn’t funny?” He says in the midst of the silence. “You always laugh at that, even just a bit.”

Oh, thank god, you’re thinking; he didn’t assume anything. “I don’t laugh because you’re not funny,” you say as your nerves finally calm down.

“Whatever,” he mumbles. “Call me when you can, and tell me all about this guy. Don’t spare the gruesome details.”

“Gross,” you say, scrunching up your nose. He laughs and hangs up, leaving you alone in your thoughts that are now thinking about Jimin, all over again.

You fall face first onto your desk, seeing a few people near you flinch at the sound of impact out of the corner of your eye.

What had even happened last night?

Whoever you were last night, it was not you. It was a much hornier version of you that got way too ahead of herself and her feelings.

And the worst part of it all, you weren’t even drunk. You remember every touch, every feeling, every taste with flying vivid colors.

You cross your legs. Maybe remembering everything wasn’t too terrible, and that would definitely be true, only if he hadn’t acted so...sweet.

Sleeping with Jimin had crossed your mind multiple times, but you had made a promise to yourself if that was to ever, ever, ever happen, it would just be a one night stand. You would use his hot bod and good looks to get yourself off, and that was it. No feelings attached, because to put it simply, there were no feelings.

But last night—it was too intimate. There were too many light kisses and soft touches and sweet words to just be a one-time-thing. He said too much and did too much, and it went far beyond that.

“Y/N?”

You shoot straight up at his voice. An overwhelming flush of emotions and heat run to your face when you’re suddenly looking at Jimin. He had been leaning against the desk, arms crossed and titled head, and worst of all, smiling. It’s an endearing one, and you’re finally wishing he would smirk instead because it wouldn’t make butterflies flutter in your stomach as much.

“Uh,” you say, scrambling for something to say, still flustered. “Hey.”

Hey. You were so stupid.

Jimin pulls out a chair and takes a seat opposite you. You’re watching him intently, panicking on what he was going to say.

“Tired?” He asks, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the table. You frown, catching on how he was teasing you for putting your head down earlier.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you say, venom in your voice. You weren’t too angry over such an innocent comment—it was something Jungkook could probably say—but you had to make sure that nothing was changed between you two.

Jimin looks surprised at your tone, his mouth parting open and eyes wide. “I didn’t mean it like that!” He says it with so much infused guilt that it was now your turn to be surprised.

“Um,” you say, speechless again for the hundredth time within the past hour. “It’s okay, Jimin. I didn’t either.”

“Oh,” he says, relaxing his tense shoulders. You watch the foreign sight intently, confused on why he was acting so strange.

Right. It’s because of last night.

“Uh, Jimin,” you start, heart rate racing. “About the party—”

“I didn’t know you would leave so early,” he interrupted. You’re shocked again, and Jimin notices, sending you a timid smile to ease you. “I had been hoping for a round two in the morning, maybe another in the showers—”

“Jimin!” You hiss, reaching out to slap his hand and frantically looking around to see if anybody was listening. After all, you were you, and Jimin was Jimin, and the two of you together always spurred conversation. If anybody was listening right now, who knows what would ensue from there.

“I had to take a shower alone,” Jimin continues, completely dismissing your paranoia. He runs his fingers through his hair, and you notice it’s damp, still drying. You see how it’s lighter in color, now a creamy blonde instead of his usual ashy shade. “It was not as fun.”

“God,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Jimin laughs at your reaction, and for some reason, you’re laughing too.

A silence falls over you and you force yourself to indulge in it. It’s not a comfortable silence. It’s one with so many unsaid words but you already know what could be said.

“Y/N,” Jimin says, and thank god he was the one to break the silence for you. “I’m actually really happy I ran into you today.”

He sits up, adjusting the sleeve of his hoodie around his wrist a little. You’re a bit amazed he could act so compromised in the midst of a most-probably, very intense hangover.

“I wanted to tell you—” Jimin pauses, adjusting the sleeve even more, and now you’re starting to think it’s a method of fidgeting and not actually adjusting. “—thank you for last night.”

Your mouth falls in a straight line. Was he really thanking you for getting him off? You let out an exhale, thinking that you shouldn’t have expected anything more than a pervert from Park Jimin.

“Right,” you say slowly. “Your welcome.”

Jimin seems alarmed at your response, like he was expecting more of a reaction. “I mean it,” he continues and you raise an eyebrow. “You—uh—last night...it meant a lot to me, that’s all.”

You feel any words hitch at your throat, unable to do anything besides just stare back at him.

“Sorry,” he begins to say, looking down at the floor for a second. “You probably don’t remember that much.”

Shit...he thought you were drunk. Did he think that was the only way you would sleep with him? If you were filled to the brim with so much alcohol that all your prejudice against him would be skimmed over? Why did he think so little of himself, even if you were the person in question?

“In that case,” Jimin says, breaking you out of your thoughts, “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you. I wasn’t even thinking about how much you drank. If I did anything over the line—”

“I wasn’t drunk.”

“...What?”

Oh, god. Your words just caught up to you.

“I didn’t drink,” you repeat and he doesn’t say anything. “At all.”

He realises his mouth had been hung open so he closes it, scanning the room like he was looking for the right words. “Really?”

“Really,” you say. You’re both staring at each other, equally astonished because you both know this means something now.

He slumps in his seat, breaking the eye contact. “I didn’t drink either.”

Your heart jerks in your chest. “...Really?”

“Really.”

You lean back in your chair, staring into blank space. It made sense. You never saw him with any drinks nor did you smell any alcohol on his lips for the entirety that they’ve been on yours.

You both know what this means.

You had been riding on the fact that he was too drunk to remember anything about last night so both of you could forget everything, but now he’s just told you he’s been sober, the whole time.

Every word, every touch, every act; it was all done in his conscious mind.

And the exact same thing could be said about you.

“Then—” he starts to say.

“Yeah,” you finish for him. You lock eyes, and suddenly flashes of last night pass through your mind.

Your face heats up and you’re fidgeting with your lap to distract yourself from everything remotely about him or last night. The way Jimin continues to stare at you, you’re beginning to think he’s thinking of the same things. And then, he’s smiling.

No. Smirking.

“Well, Y/N,” Jimin says, all of a sudden getting up from the chair. “I should be going now.”

He walks past you and you think he’s gone, until you feel him lean down to whisper something into your ear.

“I see you’ve listened to my advice.”

As he straightens up, you look at his face and see he’s indicating to your jeans. You completely freeze, suddenly immobile, and it makes Jimin chuckle.

“I’ll see you around, baby.”

“I told you, Jungkook. I don’t remember,” you repeat for what it seems like the fifth time. Jungkook runs so he’s caught up with you and walking by your side, and you walk a little faster in response.

“That’s a load of bullshit,” Jungkook replies. “You look so giddy right now.”

“I do not.”

“You’re smiling and blushing—”

“I’m fucking not.”

“Who’s this mystery man?” Jungkook asks as you pack into your dorm elevator. “He must mean so much to you if you won’t even tell me.”

“Like, I said,” you say, pressing for your floor, “I don’t remember. I went back into the party and got a little wasted—”

“You don’t get wasted, Y/N,” Jungkook interrupts, raising an eyebrow. “You hate drinking.”

“Well I did yesterday. I didn’t want to deal with your drunk ass sober,” you snap back, leaning against the wall and crossing your arm.

“Lucky for you, you didn’t deal with me at all—”

“Let it go, Kook,” you say, holding back a laugh. “It was a taste of your own medicine.”

“You’re the one who needs to let it go,” he says as the elevator doors open. “That was months ago.”

“And I’m still cold from walking back to my dorm all alone,” you reply, walking with him and down the corridor, “in the middle of winter.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook says with a deep sigh. “I’ll make you cough up this mystery man’s identity one day.”

“Please do, I want to remember him too.”

“So he was worth remembering?”

You pause. “Probably,” you say and he laughs.

You nearing your dorm room, when you see an array of something at the door. Something red. You frown, looking back to see if you went the wrong way and if it was your dorm for sure.

“What is that?” Jungkook asks you, noticing it too and expecting you to know.

You don’t respond, picking up your pace to investigate it further. Your heart drops to your feet when you see it’s several bouquets of roses placed at the foot of your dorm room door.

“For god’s sake—”

“Woah,” you hear Jungkook say behind you. “This your mystery man?”

You’re massaging the space between your eyebrows, annoyed he put you in this awkward position now. “No, it’s not,” you say, bending down to inspect them further. You see a note attached to one of the rose buds closest to you, and you reach for it without Jungkook noticing.

“Sure it is,” he replies, picking up a bouquet himself. “Whoever this guy is, he’s new to romance.”

You frown. “What makes you say that?”

“Red roses? I mean, come on, that’s so stereotypical,” he replies, twirling the bouquet around to look at every side. You’re grateful you noticed the note before he did.

“I think they’re kind of cute,” you say and regret seeps in right away as Jungkook’s face lights up.

“I fucking knew it!” He shouts a bit too loudly for your taste. “You totally remember this guy!”

“No I do not—”

“You’re getting so flustered—”

“I’m not!”

“I’ve never seen you like this, so heart eyes and in love—”

“Jungkook!”

“Okay, okay,” he says, trying to stop his laughter. “I gotta go, now. Don’t fall too head over heels while I’m gone.”

“Shut up,” you’re muttering as you bend down to pick up the other roses. You stand in front of Jungkook and he piles the last bouquet on top.

“Look at you, lovebird,” he says, placing his hands on his hips and leaning back to look at you properly. “You and all your bouquets, sent by all your lovers—”

“Leave,” you grumble, swinging the door open with your somewhat free hand.

“Lilies from Italy, Periwinkles from Spain—”

“Jungkook.”

“Love you, text me tomorrow,” he says, waving you goodbye.

You finally shut the door, rushing over to spill the bouquets onto your bed. You haven’t forgotten about the note still ravelled in your careful fist.

His phone number is carefully scribed onto it with a blue pen, the digits slowly getting smaller as they near the edge of the paper.

He answered the call by the third ring. “Hello?”

“Park Jimin,” you say with grit in your teeth.

“Baby,” he replies with honey in his voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“You got my roses?” He asks and you can hear him smile through the phone.

“Do you realise you leaving bouquets of flowers at my dorm room will get somebody’s attention?” You snap into the phone.

“I was aiming to get yours,” Jimin replies and you roll your eyes.

“Jimin—” you begin when he interrupts again.

“Come to my dorm tomorrow.”

You pause. “Are you insane?”

“Please? I miss you.”

You take a deep inhale, ignoring the somersaults your heart is doing from his words. “Park Jimin, you’re really something—”

“Great! East wing, 3rd floor, Room 116. My roommate’s only back by 9pm, so come before then.”

Then he hangs up.

The door is ajar so you don’t knock, instead quickly stepping in to make sure nobody sees you. You’re suddenly being captured into Jimin’s arms, winding them around your figure and meeting his lips to yours.

You groan into the kiss because you’re shocked, but then you groan because he feels so good. He breaks the kiss, laying a single peck on your jaw. “You actually came,” he says with a pleasant surprise.

You don’t know why. If you really wanted to leave whatever had happened between the two of you, you wouldn’t be here, and you definitely wouldn’t be kissing him back.

“Let me treat you, baby,” Jimin says, locking the door behind you and leading you to his bed.

No, you couldn’t let this go so easily. You needed to say something, or none of this will ever go anywhere.

“Woah, woah,” you say, stopping in your tracks. “Is this all you wanted me here for?”

“Well, yeah,” he replies before he follows up. “I want to make you feel good—”

“I thought we could talk,” you say, frowning and ignoring his tempting offer.

He pauses, his arms falling limp from around your waist. “Talk about what?”

“Ugh,” you grumble, facing away from him. “What is wrong with you, Jimin? Honestly?”

You turn back and he’s still standing there, so clueless.

“About us!” You say, walking closer to him. Jimin frowns, his mouth parting. “What is this?”

“It doesn’t have to be serious,” he says softly.

“What doesn’t have to be serious, Jimin?” You ask. “Just tell me, what relationship do we have?”

He pauses again.

“Am I just your fuck buddy?” You ask, growing slightly angry at his lack of a response.

“I don’t know what we are, Y/N,” he says, looking at you through hooded eyes. “I just—don’t know. But whatever it is, I want it.”

You let out a sigh. This was not helping.

“Y/N, don’t tell me you didn’t feel something that night,” Jimin says, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest. “I know you did, because I did.”

You don’t say anything. You’ve been in denial of everything you’ve felt about Jimin these past few days. He’s sweet, and thoughtful, and fun to talk to, but he was still Jimin. And you’ve already engrained it into your head that you’ll never, in any lifetime ever, fall in love with him.

“I don’t know what that party was, Jimin,” you say, shaking your hands to tell him to let them go. “I’m not even sure if it should have happened.”

He stares at you, searching around for your face for some sign that you were joking, but he doesn’t. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” you take a deep breath, “whatever this is, whatever you’re trying to make it to be, I don’t want to get involved.”

Jimin holds in his breath, face frozen and limbs limp. “Y/N—”

“That party, you were hot and I was horny. Anything you felt, that was all you—”

“That’s not true,” he interrupts, his voice rising. “I just wanted to sleep with you, but when it was happening—I don’t know—it was like we were meant to be together, and I know you feel the same—”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You don’t know who’s speaking, because it’s definitely not you, and you don’t know why you’re lying, to him and to yourself, but you can’t let this happen.

You can’t fall for Park Jimin.

You’re above this.

No matter how lovely he’s been treating you ever since you boned him, it’s no excuse for all the torment and embarrassment he’s put you through ever since the day he met you. All the perverted things he’s whispered to you, all the times he’s made you the subject of the joke just so his friends would think he’s cool.

You didn’t care about bouquets or sweet talk, Jimin will always be Jimin to you, a subject of hatred. Him bringing you here, seducing you with flowers and secret notes, just so he could sleep with you again, made you remember. This is why you can’t let this happen.

“I only used you, Jimin!” You yell, feeling red creep up your face.

“Don’t say that,” he says, so softly again.

“I did!” You shout back, wanting him to argue with you, wanting him to give you a reason to hate him right now so you could get out of your head. “I wanted to get off and then leave!”

“Stop lying,” Jimin says, frowning like he’s disappointed.

“I’m not lying! Jimin, can’t you see? I’m never gonna love you! You’ve been such an asshole to me for the past two years—”

“Y/N, please just—”

“Just, what? You want me to stay and have sex with you, until the next time when you’re bored. Then you’ll just send me more gifts and expect me to come running—”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Jimin says. You pause, letting yourself catch your breath and consequently letting him speak. “I don’t know what we are, but we have a connection. And I know I’ve been a jerk, but I just didn’t know how to deal with liking you—”

“You’re really pulling out every trick in the book to get back into my pants—”

“Y/N, I’m serious!” He grabs your elbows, leaning close into your face. His expression etched with pain, and it makes it easier to believe by the second. “All I wanted was sex, but now I want you. You just—make me feel something.”

“You expect me to kneel in front of you because you’re saying all of this?”

“No!” He almost yells, and then immediately softens. “I wanted to treat you—”

“You can find plenty of other girls to do that for,” you say, pushing past him.

“I only want you, Y/N,” he says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You shrug it off, unlocking the door. “Please! Nobody’s ever made me feel good about myself like you—”

“Look at you, Jimin,” you say, turning to face him. You feel liquid gather at your eyes. You want to stay so bad. You want to melt into him and have him hold you in his arms and kiss you slowly. You were prouder than that. “You could have any girl you want. Ones that will probably be easier to deal with than me—”

“Baby—”

“Don’t—ever—call me that again,” you hiss. All he was was sweet talk, but it was just empty promises. You can never be with Park Jimin.

You’re opening the door and slipping past it before he could do anything to stop you. You’re walking back to the elevator when you hear his footsteps run towards you.

“Y/N,” he says, grabbing for your shoulder. “Please, don’t go. You mean so much.”

You let him turn you around, tired of running away. “You’ve had sex with me one time, and now you think you’re in love?” He pauses and you continue. “This isn’t love, Jimin. Stop making this complicated. I hate you, you hate me, we slept together, and that’s it. That’s all we’ll ever be.”

The elevator dings and you step in. He doesn't follow you. He watches you press for ground floor, then his stare never leaves you as the doors slowly shut. The moment he’s out of your sight, you fall against the wall, letting all the emotions fall onto you all at once.

You wish love wasn’t so complicated, and that you could just be happy. Most of all, you wished assholes like Park Jimin didn’t exist, because the moment you start falling for them, it's impossible to stop yourself.

Here you are.

At another fucking party.

This time, it was in a different venue, smaller and much less noise, and Jungkook had to literally drag you out so you could breathe fresh air for the first time in a week.

You told him everything. You had no option when he found you alone in your dorm and crying into your pillow. He told you it was okay to feel the way you did, and do the things you did. You knew he was right, and the way you acted was justified, but it felt so wrong.

You had only been half honest that day. All you’ve ever felt for Jimin before that party had been lust and hate. But it felt so hard to hate him when he was so sweet and caring, and when he softly kissed your wrist and cuddled you close and fell asleep to your heartbeat. And then, you didn’t know what to feel, and what feelings to accept. It was no longer black and white, but instead a murky gray.

You went to the party anyways, just in case you would see him. That’s all you wanted to do; see him. Memorise his face. Hear his voice, even. All you wanted was to etch him into your memory one last time, just for good measures.

“Y/N,” Jungkook says, leaning close to your face. “Drink.”

“I don’t want to,” you mutter.

“Trust me,” he replies. His face was slightly sunken in, and you know it’s because he’s been worrying about you. “It will feel better.”

You accept, taking the cup from his hand and downing it. Your face twists in disgust at the taste, and swallowing it was difficult.

“Feel better?” He asks, patting your back.

“I feel worse,” you reply and it makes Jungkook smile a bit.

“You want to go back?”

You shake your head. Yes, you do. But no, you don’t want to ruin another one of his nights. You’ve stopped Jungkook from having fun too often. “I’ll just stay here,” you say, leaning your head against the wall.

“Y/N,” he says softly, “I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

“I’m fine,” you say and he gives you a look. “Really, Kook. Please, just go and have a good time. Don’t worry about me.”

Suddenly, he’s grabbing your shoulders and turning you to the side so you’re facing away from the party.

“Don’t look,” he whispers. You know exactly who he’s talking about. “We can leave if you want.”

“Where is he?” You ask Jungkook, and he releases his grip on you to nudge his head towards the crowd.

You turn around, following his gaze, and sure enough, there he was.

He was sitting on a sofa, alone. He had a cup in his hand, but he paid very little attention to it, never taking a sip from it. Seeing his familiar yet furrowed face made your knees weak, like they would give out to the floor anytime. You feel your heart race and your cheeks flush and your eyes water.

You snap away when you feel his gaze dangerously close to you. You turn back to Jungkook and slump your body against the wall.

“Y/N, we can leave.”

“It’s fine, Kook—”

“He’s looking at you.”

Silence. You hold your breath hostage, wistfully closing your eyes as your heart sinks.

“He’s leaving,” Jungkook says again. You let out an exhale, but it doesn’t feel relieving. “What the hell are you doing, Y/N?”

You look up into Jungkook’s eyes shaped by his frown. “What do you mean?”

“Go after him.”

“You’re crazy—”

“I’m serious. I can tell you like him too much to let him leave now. Just go after him,” Jungkook says, taking your cup from you and fixing your hair.

“I can’t. You know I can’t—”

“Yes, you can. I promise, this will help so much,” he says, tucking in a stray hair behind your ear. You feel tears start to gather in your eyes again and Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Stop crying and follow him.”

“Thank you,” you let out as a hoarse whisper, giving him one last look; he gives you a smile and a thumbs up, before you’re rushing past figures to get to the exit.

You’re outside in the open air, scanning the area for anywhere he could be.

You don’t see him anywhere. Shit, you must have taken too long, and now he’s gone. You run down the porch steps, looking left and right. He’s not anywhere. You spot the road where everybody parked their car, wishing, praying, he hadn’t left yet.

You look everywhere else; around the porch, near the swimming pool, along the fencing, but he was nowhere. You sink to your knees, cradling your body, and letting everything wash over you.

You release your grip on your knees, letting them fall forward. You can’t stop your sobbing, because you always mess everything up. There’s nothing you can do right because you’re so full with so pride and grudges that you can’t see what’s in front of you.

You don’t know for certain if you love him, or if he loves you, but you do know that you want to be with him, to give him a chance.

But now, you can’t. And you will never be able to tell him.

You fall backward, looking up into the starless sky in the middle of the lawn before you let your eyes close. There’s nobody outside, just you and your thoughts and regrets, and maybe that’s how it was supposed to be.

You hear a shuffle of steps against the grass, getting closer to you, before the figure takes a seat next to you.

You never open your eyes, but you feel a lump form in your throat and your upper lip quiver. When you take a breath, it’s a harsh breath for air because you’re suddenly crying and can’t breathe.

You let your eyes peel open, adjusting to the sky above you before your head rolls over to the side and settles on his face. He’s looking at you, so softly, like you’ve never done him any harm.

Seeing him so close up made your heart tremble in its ribcage. His eyelashes were wet against the moonlight, like he had been crying.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey,” you repeat, letting out a barely audible croak.

There’s silence, not because neither of you know what to say, but because there needs to be a silence, just for a while.

“I’m sorry,” he says, rolling his head so he’s looking up. You don’t know how to respond immediately.

“It’s okay,” you reply. You’re meant to say that none of this is his fault, but you’re too weak to talk. “I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply. “You did nothing.”

“No,” you whisper. “I did.”

You hear him take a deep sigh. “If—If you were serious, I’ll leave you alone.”

More silence.

“I’ll never bother you again. I promise.”

“I wasn’t,” you say, feeling your throat dry and crack. He looks at you again, and suddenly you’re unsure of your words because saying that means so much commitment that you don’t know you have.

“Are you sure?”

You take a deep breathe. “I don’t know, but what I do know is, if I let you go, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

You hear his breathing waver and his eyelashes blink, like they’re wet again.

“I was lying,” you continue. “I want to be with you.” The words take so much effort to get out, and it shouldn’t be like this. It should be happy and easy and you feel tears pool at your eyes once again when you start thinking that none of this would have happened if you weren’t so stupid.

“Don’t cry,” he whispers and it makes you cry more. “It’s all my fault, I promise it is. I was a jerk, I really was. I don’t know how anybody likes me when I’m like that.”

“That’s not you,” you let out.

More eyelash blinking. “I’m sorry.”

“...It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“Something about you,” you start saying, letting yourself smile a bit, “keeps bringing me back. I didn’t know what, but now I think I do.”

A pause.

“I never gave you a chance, and I should have.”

“I love you.”

“Jimin—”

“Y/N, I love you. For so long, I just didn’t know it.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it,” you say, frowning and careful not to get your hopes up.

“I mean it. I was never interested in any of the girls around campus, and I realised it’s because I’ve been waiting for you. I wish I told you so much earlier. Maybe none of this would have happened and I wouldn’t have had to find that out during a hookup at some frat party.”

“It’s my fault—”

“It’s mine. You’ve never done anything wrong. Nothing you will ever do will make me hate you.”

“Really?” You say with a hint of light laughter.

“I swear,” he says, grinning. “I like you too much.”

You laugh, blinking away from his gaze on you. You’ve never felt this way with anybody. Nobody’s made you cry so hard and feel so many butterflies all at the same time. And it’s hard to believe that it’s Park Jimin that you’re falling so deeply for.

“So...now what?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly.

“I want to be with you,” he says.

“Me too.”

You hear his smile turn into a grin and you roll your head over to see. He was glowing, even in practical darkness.

“Let’s go from there, then.” Jimin says, taking a deep breath and you laugh. “Y/N…”

“Jimin…”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

“Let me think about that—”

“Hey!”

“Yes, I do,” you say, giggling and turning your body over so you’re facing him.

“You sure I’m not embarrassing?”

“Yes.”

“You sure you’ll be able to handle those weird looks people will give us.”

“No problem.”

“What about dealing with my dumb ass every day and still liking me when I’m being an idiot?”

“Absolutely.”

“Great, I declare Y/N and Park Jimin officially...boyfriend and girlfriend!” He says, reaching an arm over to drape over your waist. You laugh into his chest.

“I didn’t take you for a party person,” Jimin jokes, petting his hand through your hair.

“I went to see you,” you say honestly, placing a hand over the plates of his chest.

“Funny, I went for the same reason,” he mumbles, gripping you close to his body. “Let’s stay here. Just me and you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, nuzzling your face into his neck, feeling tears drop down and stain his shirt. He tells you in hushes not to cry, but you just had to let it out. You were, so, happy.

“I told you, Kook,” you say as the two of you walk down the same corridor of your dorm, “Biochem is not as easy as you probably thought it was.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, frowning and swatting his hand. “I get it. I’m an idiot.”

You chuckle. “Maybe, but you can still pass.”

“With a miracle from God,” Jungkook says. He narrows his eyes down in the horizon. “More flowers?”

“Really?” You perk up, picking up your pace towards your dorm room.

“Who is his florist? Does they just give out free bouquets?” Jungkook asks, catching up to you. The flowers are orange tulips, your favourite.

You smile so much your cheeks burn. “He really doesn’t have to,” you say, picking up the bouquet.

“People do everything in the book when they’re in love,” Jungkook says, leaning down to smell it. He catches your expression and laughs. “You’re so heart eyes right now, it’s kind of gross,” he says a bit too proudly. “My best friend, finally getting herself a man—”

“Well, I’ll talk to you later Kook,” you suddenly say as you search your pockets for your keys.

“Wait, Y/N! I thought we were gonna study,” he says, frowning at you as he watches you unlock your door.

“Uh, maybe in a few hours? I’m actually a little busy,” you’re saying as you’re already going inside.

“Wow,” Jungkook says, dragging out the word. “Is this gonna become a habit? Ditching me for your new boyfriend?”

You chuckle.

“Lucky for you, I have other friends, and other plans,” he says and you’re smiling at him, resting the almost closed door against your back. “I didn’t want to study anyways.”

“Love you, Kook,” you say, giving him a wide smile because you know he’s letting you off the hook on purpose.

“Save that talk for Park,” Jungkook says, waving to you. “You better still tutor me, though!”

“Of course,” you say matter-of-factly.

“Text me!” He says as he leaves.

You let the door shut, placing the bouquet down onto your bed. He picks up the call by the second ring.

“Yes, babe?” Jimin asks.

“Come over to my dorm,” you say, taking out your laptop as you speak.

“Be there in five minutes,” he says and you squirm around happily.

He arrives on time, and you greet him inside with a soft kiss on his lips.

“What do you wanna watch?” You ask him, settling on the bed.

“Anything you want to.”

“Jimin, that doesn’t help—”

“Can we look through the documentaries?” He decides, readjusting his position so he can see the computer screen more carefully. You smile.

“These are all crime,” you comment, turning your face away.

“What? Those are the best!” Jimin says, making himself comfortable with you in his arms.

“They’re too scary,” you admit, leaving a kiss onto the closet part of him to you.

“You’re so lame,” he says, laughing and placing his chin on your head.

“You mean, ‘I’ll protect you from any harm, Y/N’, right?”

“Right.”

You fall asleep within the first 10 minutes, and it was hard not to with his fingers playing with your hair and his soft breathing hitting the side of your face and his slow chest moving up and down rhythmically. Jimin wakes you up when it ends, showering you with little kisses all over your face.

When you see Jungkook later that day, he tells you he’s never seen you happier.

“I think it has something to do with Jimin,” Jungkook says.

You laugh. “Something.”

#sehunpeachy

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#sehunpeachy