Jimin's fist remains dormant in the air as anxiety proceeds to quickly trickle down his throat. His stomach is churning to the musk of mystery roaming the air, carpeting something within his very fiber — a mischief awaiting to blight his ego.
He can't see it but he feels the warning signs.
That something is just telling him to turn back, that if he does it will be for the best. But there's something holding him back, and that's curiosity.
He's desperate. He wants to know why.
What clicked?
What suddenly made you want more than to be just friends...?
What is it?
Because he knows, you don't look at him the same way everyone else does.
You never did.
And it pisses him the hell off.
The fact that your gaze carries such an endearing softness, that is.
It's like you're babying him, and he despises it — almost like you pity him, and trust it when he thinks your pity is the last thing he needs.
Nearly after a minute of aimless pondering, Jimin takes a peek at the address scribbled in the little note folded neatly in his palm. He then sighs.
It's the right address alright...
Forehead rimmed with cold sweat, he dares to sweep the raven locks from his eyes with his slender fingers.
Trembling fingers.
He's worried he'll be caught — get into a little more trouble than what he bargained for because his "hobby" is a little risqué. So he's here to draw all this testosterone from his blood.He's preparing to rid of it all because the last thing he needs is an addiction, especially one from his own high school, to satisfy his urges.
Or.. to finally uncover who remained through his many personas.
By now, Jimin is freaking out, looking over each shoulder with wide eyes.
What should he do?
His head's swimming, heart pounding furiously beyond his control due to a little culprit named addraline.
He swallows a large breath.
Here goes.
The wooden door is met by his fist with three light knocks.
And just like silence stood, so did Jimin.
His gaze is averted to his feet and he's waiting tentatively, yet a reply remains absent. Not even the sound of footsteps — the only noise to be heard is his shaky breath rebounding off the hall walls.
His lips pull into a hard line.
Oh heck to the no!
He did not just pay thirty fucking bucks to get a fifteen minute cab ride to your place to be stood up! Hell nah!
No one fucks with Park Jimin — that's his job.
He pounds once again on the door, this time raising his voice, "Hey, open up!"
Again, silence is shoved down his throat and forced deep into his bones.
"It's Jimin." He says, only to be startled by a bang, then a groan.
A female groan.
The voice commands huskily, "Come in."
For a moment Jimin almost runs short of breath.
YOU ARE READING
Exes And Hoes
Fanfiction❝If sex is a pain in the ass then you're doing it wrong.❞ In the remnants of his Xs and Os is merely just an Ex and a Hoe. A tale in which a hoe loathes his ex and plans to get revenge even if it means playing dirty ;) A/N: Shit gets kinky. This sto...
