Exes And Hoes

Checkmate

PARK.

FREAKING.

JIMIN.

The son of a gun has done it again, even flawlessly.
Curse that slimy greasebucket, because yet again that con-artist is making your life an absolute shit-hole!
It's almost like he's flaunting how much he's musing over your reactions, smile ever so carefree as he strides past. The kind of body language that wants your attention.
The desperate kind.
Nights have passed, yet the situation still has you all butterfly-tummied. If it hadn't been for stupidity, you wouldn't be stuck in this war with that thief.
Yes, thief.
Stupid idiot stole from you, and in many ways more than one, and whether he'll like it or not you're going ruthlessly reclaim every last drop.
"Ms. Choi," There it is again, that sexy vibration of his whisper at the tug of your sleeve in an urge to halt.
His words roll of his tongue like water, so effortless and elegantly dressed, yet their motive is what has you dancing in his orbit.
Just what is he planning exactly?
"Yes, Mr.Park?" You murmur flutter-lashed. A ploy to decode the intention of the smirk slithering his lips.
"You know," He slips the coffee snug in his palm onto the hardwood and plants himself in his seat, one leg eloquently riding the other.
His lips part as if to say something of importance, only to clamp shut. Almost as if he's hesitant.
Gaze light against yours, he sighs. "I can't help but feel you've been... awfully quiet lately."
"Is that so?"
Your stomach feels wishy-washy to the very image of his staged posture, the way he's sweeping the honey fluff from his face and brows lifting with glowing amusement.
He tilts his head.
"Is there... Something wrong?"
He lets his words hang and waits tentatively for some kind of verbal lashing.
Yet, much to his surprise, you simply shake your head and deliver a smile.
"What makes you think that Mr. Park?"
Interesting...
The corners of his lips twitch with embroidered irritation.
"I'm not sure," For the height of the moment, you find yourself seized in the raging waters of his catastrophic stare.
One that warns.
One that teases.
Jimin lifts his gaze to the ceiling as he marvels to the softness of feminine beauty that makes his knees quake; his fingertips grazing the inside of your palm playfully.

Oh God.

He suppresses the toothy grin spreading his lips as well defined hips welcome his hand into place like a puzzle piece.
He tugs at your skirt. "But I do know you've got me wondering baby. Wondering if our encounter was more than sheer coincidence."
Pursing your lips, you spare a hesitant glance.

What.

The.

Actual.

Fuck!?

A smoky hum resonates the corridors, and yours eyes pop open upon the startling realization. You turn back.
D-Did he just m-moan?
"No need to shy away," He drops his voice. "I've got what you want."
You swallow hard.
And if you hadn't broken eyes contact, you would've hopped the cabinet in a heartbeat and swung your legs wide for that irritatingly attractive lump of breathtaking testerone.
Simply for one hell of a rough fix.
Luckily for you, today was not that day.
"And how do I know you're not lying?"
"You'll have to come see." He shrugs, then turning his attention to his watch. And if it weren't for such the happy-go-lucky expression, you wouldn't have been able to grasp his schedule.
He flicks his blazer on his shoulder, "Don't forget," He reminds softly around the corner, "After class."

👅💦

"Look who showed up." He spares a haughty glance from the papers occupying his hands.
Unimpressed, you return the remark with a sigh and plant yourself before the effortlessly busy man.
"Just get to the point. I don't have the energy to put up with you."
He props his chin with a hand and smiles tauntingly. "That's where you'd be wrong dearie,"
The floorboards wince as he drifts his weight to one side, pulling in downwards before rising with a newfound guest; an orange envelope.
"In fact, I think you'd be more than glad to handle me." He casts the book from his vision, tossing it far into the corner where he wouldn't dare turn the next page, and lays out the evidence in plain sight.
Comically enough, you make a shaky reach for it, only for him to sprawl a hand over the source of your horrification.
To your trembling gaze he speaks, "If you couldn't handle this, how do you think you can handle me?"
"Don't even-"
"What?" He chuckles, clasping your wrist.
"Don't what?" He coos mockingly again, this time making you flinch. All that's left for him to say now is checkmate.
The corners of your are dry, gaze shifty, and cheeks blistering with red-fury as the struggle to disregard Jimin's soul pulling orbs intensifies.
"Do you have it or not?" You round-about the conversation back to the prize. If anyone understood Jimin's tactics best, it's you.
The tricks.
The games.
Deliberately carefree smiles upon your torn-up demise.
The easiest way to dodge a hefty bullet of bemusement is to simply check. Is what he saying legit or horseshit?
"Depends..." He drags slowly. "What do you think I have?"
"You know."
He persists to play dumb, folding one hand neatly over the other, "What is it then?"
In his eyes there's this flicker of propped oblivion as he continues in his flowy voice. "I can't give you what you want without knowing what you need."
"And what do you think I need?" From the corner of his vision, he catches you directing him a lecherously drenched gaze.

Damn.

Still knocks the wind from him.

He sways past the desk opening, breathing low as he dares to free his chest by undoing the first button of his skin-tight blazer.
You avert your gaze.
"Not so many questions my dear," He hushes placing his hands along your hips.
As your gazes meets he swivels on one heel and makes a glorious transition to your backside, hands now pressed along yours which lay flat on his desk.
"I've been dying waiting here for you."
A passion driven shiver comes shooting down your spine.
Shit!
This is bad!
This is very very bad!
So you shake your head and do the only thing you can; laugh. You laugh. You laugh desperately to contain your heart's thrumming.
If it's the game he's come for then he's in for a bumpy ride; and it's not on his lap.
Lips pressed to your ear, you can feel his dominance surging as he mutters against your skin, "Tell me Y/N... Does it make your heart flutter when I..." His focus shifts to your collarbone. "Touch you?" He pants, the warmth of his touch settling further up your torso.
"Don't say another word."
He grins. "And what are you going to do if I do?"
You turn to face the man head-on, arms crossed as you stand a teasingly close distance from his stature. You dig your hand into his thigh, and smile cruelly as he lets out a shaky gasp.
"I'm not here to entertain you're fucked up sex fantasies Mr.Park," You retrieve the envelope pressed on the mahogany, "Business only. Take it, or leave."
Jimin's eyes follow the paper as you wave it back and forth.
"What's it going to be Mr.Park? Ditch the dirt to get a shot at me or not?"
Reluctant, the blonde makes a lazy retreat to his desk. "Fine." He sings through gritted teeth, "Let's play rough."
Instantly screams and squeaks fill the corridor, the source of the atrocity clutchted mockingly in his right hand.
"You-!"
"Game. Over." He clicks, shoving his phone back into the safety of his pocket. "You're caught Ms. Choi. Or should I even call you that?"
"Shut up!"
He throws his head and laughs. "Feisty... And to think you were a good girl..."
Now his obtuse remarks are getting to you. The way he can so smug is so irritating!
Jimin presses his hands onto his desk and leans forward."Looks like I'll have to teach you ownership." He smirks.

"Right... Ms. Kim?"