#i get so weird about writing smut too cause you know! it's smut! give me sappy conversations that's my strength | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pandoraslxna · 1 year

Note

luna bby, craving for lo’ak angsty smut please give it to me 🌬️

The Fall

adult Lo‘ak x female omatikaya reader

Words: 11.5k

Summary: It was like falling off a cliff. A slow, steady fall and then the blinding crash. But in reality, a fall would’ve hurt less. Less than this.

Warnings: explicit smut, angst, friends with benefits, p in v, love confession, oral, begging, Lo‘ak being a switch, arguments, mentions of arranged marriage, one sided love, drunk sex, sleepy sex, handjob, creampie, praise kink, Lo‘ak is 26 & reader is 24, jealousy, possessive behavior, hair pulling, overstimulation, language barrier, teasing, sexual tension, (let me know if I missed anything)

Notes: this is probably my longest fic ever and I had so much fun writing it. Thank you mica for your request, it really motivated me to finally post this, I hope you like it! <3

Na’vi translations:

tanhì - (little) star, bioluminescence freckle

sevin - pretty

kalin - sweet

It was like falling off a cliff. A slow, steady fall and then the blinding crash. But in reality, a fall would’ve hurt less. Less than this.

The first time it happened was the day of Tuk‘s Iknimaya.

You remember that day like it was just last week. The clan celebrated her rite of passage and welcomed her and a handful of other young omatikaya into adulthood with a great fest. People were dancing, singing and the night was filled with laughter and stories told by the elder. The food was fantastic, but unfortunately, so were the drinks.

And Lo‘ak was never one to say no when there was liquor, especially not when Spider challenged to drink him under the table.

The night ended just a little sooner for the two of you, when Lo‘ak was on the verge of passing out and his father began worrying for his sons wellbeing. Probably worrying for his reputation too, but that was just how Jake was.

"Get this knucklehead home before he throws up and ruins his last chance to find himself a mate", he told you, shaking his head and trying to hide the grin of a father who was dwelling in memories of his own troublesome youth.

You remember how you had promised the olo’eyktan to bring his son home, but unfortunately, you were just as drunk. You had clung to each other, your arm around his waist and his arm thrown over your shoulder, stumbling and laughing all the way through the forest and you almost made it back to the village…

You don’t know how exactly it had happened. It was a moment of drunken weakness, jokes turning into something serious and one thing lead to another and then he had kissed you and you had kissed him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t kissed before, but that was when you were kids. This time, it was different. And sometime between kissing and biting each others lips and hands grabbing whatever flesh they could reach— you somehow ended up tangled into each other, fucking your brains out, until you both passed out in the middle of the forest.

You remember waking up the next day with the worst headache ever, but your pain was quickly brushed aside when you cracked your eyes open to find yourself laying on a very familiar chest. You remember the panic you’ve felt, thinking this might ruin your friendship, that this was a mistake and it would create some unwanted tension between the two of you, that it would be awkward now. But surprisingly, that wasn’t the case.

It was still Lo‘ak when he woke up. Your Lo‘ak, your best friend, that weird kid you grew up with.

And it somehow just… it worked. It was just sex and you were drunk and he was still your best friend. No weird feelings and no awkward tension as you originally thought, you even laughed about the whole situation on your way back home. The next few days, you would snicker and glance at each other whenever someone questioned where you two had been at the end of the night and it was like some sort of inside joke between the two of you that caused people to roll their eyes in an "always the same with these two"-manner.

But then it had happened again.

And this time, you weren’t drunk. You were very far from that, actually.

Lo‘aks heart was beating hard in his chest, almost as hard as it was the first time he had kissed you, dizzy with the knowledge that this was something forbidden. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen.

He had sex before, obviously. Most of these times without any major feelings involved. Hookups nothing more and nothing less. But this was still different. You were his best friend and unlike the first time, he couldn’t blame what he was doing on any warriors drink now. He did it simply because he felt like it. Because he was horny and you were alone in the forest with him, to hunt originally, but you just looked so tempting. Forbidden things always attracted him anyways. And besides, you did it once already, so why not do it again? It would be a shame if he were to hold it in until he was back at home, just so he could jerk himself off, give himself an unsatisfying release– when you were right here.

It must’ve been something in the air that day, but by the flush of your cheeks and the way you had clenched your thighs together, he could tell that you were just as needy. So he made a move, not really thinking much about it, because he was more of a do now and regret later type of guy. To think before you act, that was Neteyam’s style and not his.

Lo‘ak had pressed himself closer to you, moving his lips on your own as if he tried to quiet down the thoughts and the doubts running through your mind. You were hesitant at first, didn’t move until he got one hand holding the back of your head, fingers carding through your soft hair in soothing motions, and the other on the small of your back, pushing your bodies together. It was then, that you finally wrapped your arms around his neck and a soft little moan escaped you, like you were finally letting yourself go.

And that brought you to a pause, returning you to the moment.

With a gentle push to his chest, you made Lo‘ak break the kiss. Taking a few steps backwards to put some space between the two of you, you leaned yourself against a tree and sighed, "Lo‘ak I’m… we can’t— we shouldn’t."

"Why not?", he chuckled and shrugged. It wasn’t a pressuring question, no, he was genuinely curious. "You’re hot and I’m hot and the sex was amazing the first time and we both know that we could really use a good fuck right now. Just imagine how–"

"Ew", you laughed, before you gave him a playful shove to his shoulder.

"What? So I can’t call my best friend hot?", he chuckled, "Okay then, I’m hot and your mildly attractive enough to–"

"No, skxawng", you laughed some more and shook your head, "I said ew because you called yourself hot." You had scrunched your nose and playfully reached for his hair, before you continued to tease him, "When’s the last time you washed those braids, huh? You’re not hot, you’re nasty."

There was a reason why you always felt so safe with Lo‘ak. He would never make you feel uncomfortable, no matter what happened, no matter what you did or said. It would never become awkward or weird between the two of you. You could kiss and fuck and fight but in the end, you were still friends, soulmates even.

"Oh please, we both know all the ladies love me!" Lo‘ak winked at you and you grimaced, causing both of you to laugh even more.

"Is that so?", you snickered, both of your eyebrows raised high in astonishment, "Why ask me then? Go and beg some of your 'ladies' if you want to get laid."

"Tanhì, c‘mon, you know what I‘m trying to say", Lo‘ak groaned and let his head fall back against his neck. He’s never been a man of many words and it was always so easy to win an argument against him. But still, you had to admit… he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Fuck.

Were you really that easy? Or were just that horny today? You were surprised with yourself that you actually considered this. It must’ve been just another moment of weakness and you really couldn’t believe it, but you actually found yourself agreeing to the few points that he made.

Actually, the idea wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. You would both get your piece of cake without all the commitments and struggles of a relationship. It was basically just a hookup, but with someone you knew really well. And that sounded almost too good to be true. It sounded like possible trouble and problems.

But Lo‘ak was right, no matter how insane that may sound. It had happened once and your friendship was still intact, so chances were high this could actually work. Right?

You remember how you had sighed and rolled your eyes at him, as if you actually couldn’t believe the words that were about to come out of your mouth, "Alright, alright… but we—"

But before you could even finish the sentence, Lo‘ak had pressed his lips against yours once again.

Immediately, you had leaned into the kiss too, allowing him to deepen it. He parted his lips, pressing harder against your mouth and you made a muffled sort of noise, to which he pulled away just slightly to let you speak.

"I didn’t agree yet", you told him panting, lips brushing against his as you spoke, but then you quickly leaned into the kiss again. You swiped your tongue against his bottom lip and he parted them, allowing you access to his mouth. "You can stop me if you want", he told you grinning, before your tongue curled around his.

"No", you whispered against his lips, "I don’t want you to stop." Lo‘ak chuckled at this, then reached down and his hands found the curve of your ass to grab a handful and squeeze. You were grinding yourself against him, relishing in the way his hips instinctually jerked against yours. He was so hard beneath his loincloth, you couldn’t help but press yourself further against him, almost desperately so.

Without breaking the kiss, he carefully untied your top and pushed it aside, exposing your breasts to him. His cock throbbed when he felt the soft flesh of your chest in his hands, slowly running a thumb over one of your nipples, which caused you to shudder.

When he eventually did pull away from your mouth, his breathing was hot and heavy. He resisted the urge to lean forward and trap you in another kiss right away, in favor of showing your chest some attention.

"Fuck, you really have some pretty tits", he murmured as he lowered his head, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip before he licked a wet stripe from under your boob up to your nipple, where he closed his lips around it. He traced his tongue over it, gently bringing them to peaks. Your head fell back and you moaned when he tugged on a nipple with his teeth, especially careful not to hurt you with his fangs.

Once you had both managed to get out of the rest of your clothes, never leaving the other ones lips for more than a brief second, Lo‘ak had picked you up and pressed you against a nearby tree. You had wrapped your legs around his waist and he had pushed his cock between your wet folds. Your slick helped him along, as he was gliding the tip against your aching, swollen clit.

"Lo‘ak, please", you impatiently whined and he smirked, grinding himself there for a short while.

"You sound good when you beg", he had told you, voice low and barely above a whisper, and then he finally drove himself all the way inside. The stretch was delicious and you sighed, relieved to be so wonderfully full of him again.

"Holy shit", you heard him groan next to your ear, "I missed this– missed this tight little pussy so much."

You were clawing at his board shoulders once he had started fucking into you and if there was any doubt, that this was the right thing to do, it flew right out of the window in this exact moment. If there was only one thing Lo‘ak was good at, probably better than anyone else, then it was to fuck. And by Eywa, he knew how to do it. He knew how to hit all of the right spots, like he had spent the past twentysix years of his life studying your body like the map to a treasure.

You knew that a big reason for the sex being so great was, that you knew each other better than anyone else, better than any hookup ever would.

Lo‘ak moaned and cursed and whined, just as much as you did. You raked your nails up the length of his spine and he groaned, giving you an especially hard thrust. Your mouth fell open and he took the opportunity to sloppily kiss you again, tongue pushing past your lips to twist with yours and you moaned into the kiss.

His hands were still firm on the back of your thighs, lifting you up and pushing you down onto his cock, until the tip was roughly kissing your cervix, making you mewl.

You almost sobbed as he angled his hips up a little, hitting that special spot right there.

"F-Fuck Lo, ah– I’m gonna, gonna come", you whimpered, "Don’t stop! Right there, right t-there!" He got the picture pretty quickly as he aimed just so, abusing that place that made you see stars. "Yeah? Right here?" His hips snapped into yours and you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck for purchase.

"C’mon, mama. Come for me, I won’t last", he gasped, "You feel way too fucking good baby, need to feel that tight pussy squeeze my cock. Do it for me, please, baby, c’mon please—“

The heat that pooled in his lower abdomen felt as if it would overflow at any second. You were so hot and wet, everything just felt so intense. Lo‘ak was moaning, literally moaning, without a care in the world because what else was he supposed to do when you felt so fucking good?

He felt your walls clamp down hard, your legs around his middle tensed and squeezed his waist and then his hips began to stutter too. Your eyes were closed tightly and your brows pushed together and then you choked back a sob and it felt like you were falling down a cliff and taking him with you.

You moaned his name as your orgasm hit you, shaking legs tightening so harshly around his waist, you could feel every tremor of his hips. He had fucked you through it, his pace barley faltering for a second. And as if he had only waited for you to finish, as if he wanted to satisfy you first, he then finally came too.

And again, it worked. It had happened twice now and it worked just fine.

That’s when Lo‘ak came up with the glorious idea of adding some sort of 'benefit' to your friendship.

On the same day, you came up with some, let’s call them 'rules', regarding your dirty little agreement. Lo’ak said it was more of a do‘s and don’ts list but whatever, in the end it was the same thing. It contained things like, what you were into and what not and things that he enjoyed, his boundaries and visa versa. There were also a few major rules that you both immediately agreed on. One of them being, that if either one of you would ever get into some sort of relationship or were to mate for life with someone, then your agreement would end and it was back to you just being friends. Apart from that, both of you could end this at any time, no questions asked.

Another big rule, basically rule number one, was that this would and will always be just sex. No feelings were allowed, no feelings were involved— don’t even think about catching them. In this case, they were a deadly disease. They were to avoid, forbidden and unwanted. Your friendship would remain untouched from this agreement, no matter what. It was just sex.

Naturally, because how else was this supposed to go, it became pretty messy after that day…

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The thing that Lo‘ak hated most about his brother was, that he was always right.

"Have you lost your mind?", the hiss of Neteyams voice had startled him, and Lo‘ak tried his best to act composed. But of course he failed miserably to do so, starting from the way he almost choked on his spit. "Please don’t tell me you sleep with her", Neteyam was almost whispering, but his voice was laced with anger as he furiously pulled him to the side, away from any possible unwanted listeners.

"W-What? With who? Of course I don’t, bro."

Yeah, that pretty much gave it away already…

There was a pause, like Neteyam was considering if he really wanted to dig any further and probably get involved into something he didn’t want anything to do with. Well, it was too late for that anyways, he thought.

"I saw her sneak out of your marui just this morning, when I went out to hunt", his brother sighed, "You still lie like you’re five years old, baby bro."

Lo‘ak swallowed dryly, shoulders tense as he shrugged them, "Okay, and?" There’s this thing that he does, like pulling up a facade when he gets cornered. Lo‘ak then likes to act all cool and tough when he feels everything but. "Yeah we do it from time to time, what about it? It’s just sex", he shrugs again, avoiding all eye contact, because he knows the look he would find in his brothers face if he would dare to glance in his direction.

"Lo‘ak", Neteyam starts and said brother rolls his eyes at the lecture that’s about to follow, "You’re gonna loose her as a friends if things go wrong. You know that, right?"

Yes, he knew that. They shouldn't keep doing this, they really shouldn't, but they do. And they kept doing it.

Neteyam had warned him… But unfortunately, his brother had already replaced his brain with his dick.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lo’ak was maybe, just a little bit, kind of an idiot.

Okay, he wasn’t fooling anyone. He was a complete and total idiot. How could he let this happen? How could he have allowed this to build over the past few months, without even considering that things would inevitably go this way?

It wasn’t until months, probably even a year later, that Lo‘ak first realized something had changed. He couldn’t pinpoint just yet what exactly that was, but he knew it had something to do with you. More so, with the way you were interacting with others. And by others, he specifically meant other men.

He had seen you flirt with other guys– even more frequently, he’s seen other guys flirt with you before. Hell, he used to be your wingman once. But that was before your little agreement. That was when you both still had to put in some actual work in order to get laid. Which made him wonder why you were even allowing this guy to flirt with you. Why not come to him instead? That would’ve been much easier. That’s what your agreement was there for, he thought.

Okay, just because you were batting your pretty long lashes at some random guy, that wasn’t even that good looking, didn’t mean you wanted to sleep with him. And it wasn’t against the rules either. Truth be told, Lo’ak had no idea why it was bothering him so much. It wasn’t his business after all.

Still, there was something about the way that guy looked at you, that made his stomach turn into a tight knot. Suddenly, there were spikes of rage, fear, possessiveness, sadness— all mixed together and fogging his mind so much, Lo‘ak could barely think as he approached you.

Laying an arm around your shoulder, he briefly stopped your little conversation, making you look up to him now, instead of that guy. "Oh, hey", you smiled at him, but there was a hint of surprise written on your face that he didn’t miss.

Neither of you had anything against the close proximity, the public display of affection. But that was mainly because Lo‘ak played it off as a friendly touch- brotherly even. And that’s exactly how it looked like to others, that’s what it looked like to you– just Lo‘ak being close with his best friend. Being physically close to one another was definitely not unwanted or unnatural to either of you, not even in public, but it still caught you off guard in this moment.

"Hey, sorry, uhm, can I borrow her for a while? It’s urgent", Lo‘ak told him, pressing his lips together into a thin line and forcing a half hearted smile to appear. He then turned his attention back to you, "Walk with me?" Thankfully, you didn’t question his intentions any further and nodded, excusing yourself.

Whatever that guy’s name was, Lo‘ak didn’t really care anyways, then reached out and gently caressed your upper arm as he said his goodbye. It was an innocent gesture, nothing more than a second passed when his thumb brushed over your skin and he knew that you probably didn’t even noticed it. But still.

It felt like Lo‘ak had been shot in the chest.

And then it finally dawned on him. He was jealous. No— No way.

That had just been a slip of his thoughts, right? Something accidental in the moment? He was pretty sure he was just confusing something here. There was no way it was really the case. There was no way he was jealous. You and him both, you were just in it for the sex. And jealousy, jealously meant feelings. And there was no space for complicated things like feelings here, which was why it was impossible for him to feel jealous. Really.

"That guy looked at you like he wanted to fuck your brains out right there", Lo’ak said, his Na’vi accent still lingering on his voice even after all these years of speaking the sky peoples language so fluently. "And I hated every second of it. Made me want to puke."

His fingers continued to pump in and out of you as he spoke, two of them buried to the last knuckle in your sopping cunt while your juices were running down his wrist. It was good that you actually believed that the thing that was so urgent was the raging boner under his loincloth and not just an excuse to get you away from that guy as fast as possible.

"You know I hate when you do that", you murmured, breathing heavy and eyes half lidded as you glanced down on yourself to meet his eyes. Your brows were furrowed, but Lo‘ak had no idea if that was because you were trying to glare at him or if you were just feeling good. He definitely hoped it was the latter.

"Do what?", he asks, before he retreats his digits and attaches his lips back to your clit instead, making your hips jolt.

"Lo‘ak", you say his name like a warning, or at least that’s what you intended to do, but it comes out as a moan instead.

It was funny that you still refused to learn the sky peoples language, even after so many years of living side by side with them. You just never felt the need to, never participated in anything that would require you to understand it. Most of the humans living in high camp were almost perfectly fluent in Na‘vi, so it wasn’t really necessary anyways. Lo‘ak on the other hand spoke their language like he grew up on earth. And he loved to take advantage of this. He did this since you were kids— indirectly talking to you, in a language that you didn’t understand. He did it whenever there was something he wanted to tell you, when there was something on his mind that he needed to say out loud to get it off his chest, without actually wanting you to understand it.

"You’re so easy to tease", he chuckles, before he guides your hips lower, making you sit on his face properly. Immediately, his tongue darts out to lick a wet stripe from your dripping entrance to your clit and you gasp. Your hands find purchase on the top of his head, fingers gently combing through his hair as you move your hips in slow circles. The forest ground is hard beneath your knees, but you barely pay it any mind as you chase his tongue with your clit, grounding yourself against it.

"Dude", you swallow thickly, a breathy chuckle leaving your parted lips and then you carefully lift yourself off of his mouth to give him the opportunity to respond, "say it so I can understand or I’m going."

Lo‘ak knew you wouldn’t leave, not right now. Not when he was devouring you like a starved man. Not when you were dripping all over his face, needy and wanton for a quick release. He chuckled and the comically sight of him peaking out from between your thighs was enough to make you giggle.

"I said, I heard he has a small dick. Just wanted to give you a heads up before you get disappointed", he said with a sharp grin.

"Who said I was going to sleep with him?", you asked in a teasing tone to which Lo‘ak bit the plush inside of your thigh.

"You looked like you wanted to", he murmurs, "And you were wet before I even started. Like you’ve been thinking about it."

"I might as well go and ask him then, if you don’t stop with all the talking a-and… oh fuck", you were interrupted when Lo‘ak closed his lips around your clit again and sucked. He hungrily kisses the little nub, flicking it with his tongue and just as you’re about to move your hips and ride his face, he stops again.

"And? Go on, sevin. I‘m listening", Lo’ak chuckles, causing you to glare at him. Leaning back on your palms, you feel for his cock behind you. Once you get a grip on his hard erection, you stroke him, once, twice and then squeeze his shaft just a little harder than necessary. You feel some of his pre-cum leak and drip over your knuckles and the whimper that escaped the man between your thighs is enough to make you grin. "Okay s-sorry, sorry", Lo’ak groans and allows you to lower your core against his face again. With a gentle tap to your thigh he gives you permission to move, ride his face as you please and that’s exactly what you do.

You feel his nose bump against your clit, while his tongue prods at your entrance, lapping on your sweet juices before he begins to tongue-fuck you. Lo‘ak has always had a smart mouth, but just a few months ago you realized that talking wasn’t the only thing his mouth was incredibly good at.

No, there was really no way Lo‘ak was jealous. This right here, this was all that it was. You were both just in it for this, the sex. Making each other feel good, using each other for pleasure and nothing else.

Except now you were dragging yourself across his face, head thrown back and humping his tongue like you were in heat. When you came, your eyes flew open and you looked down on yourself and Lo‘ak made the mistake of glancing back up at you. And then your eyes met and you, you just looked so good, so pretty as you fell apart for him— because of him. With little beads of sweat on your temple and eyebrows scrunched together, your delicate fingers tugging at his braids. You weren’t even touching him properly, his dick laying heavy against his stomach, twitching and the tip swollen, turning purplish and leaking pre in streams, completely neglected of all sort of touch. But he still came, thick spurts of warm cum shooting up and landing all over his stomach with a loud groan. He really just came just from watching you, just from feeling you and making you feel good. He came completely untouched simply because he made you come.

And that’s when Lo’ak realized he truly fucked up…

Now that he was aware of it, Lo’ak knew that this had been going on a lot longer than he was willing to admit. And now that he could finally put a name on it, it was especially hard for him to keep it together.

He was a lot more clingy than before, something you probably realized right away but simply chose to ignore for whatever reason. Physical boundaries hardly ever existed in your friendship anyways and his touch was never unwanted, so you didn’t mind it.

It was when Lo‘ak’s friendly teasing and the affectionate bullying that went back and forth for all these years suddenly turned into genuine compliments. That’s when you started to become suspicious. It was just once or twice that it slipped. A friendly, innocent, "you look so pretty today", that wasn’t moaned in the heat of the moment or said lowly, whispered in your ear to rile you up. It was sincerely, said with a smile and your brows instantly furrowed. Lo‘ak quickly realized how out of character that must’ve sounded and brushed it off with a laugh, biting the inside of his cheek and cursing himself. From now on, he would have to be more careful not to let anything like that ever slip again.

But he sees the way you’re looking at him now. Like you’re trying to communicate with your eyes, trying to tell him to stop whatever he was doing and don’t– don’t catch feelings. Rule number one, Lo‘ak. Don’t fall in love.

But it’s too late already.

Lo‘ak was head over heels in love with you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Come over", you heard his voice coming from the small ear piece he had gotten you a few years ago. It was an older throat com model that would’ve ended it the trash if it weren’t for Lo‘ak to snatch it from Norm and give it to you instead. It was nice to have some way to communicate with each other, when one of you were on patrol or away with the war party. It also bought you a lot of comfort, knowing that your little dumbass was still alive when you weren’t there to keep him from doing dangerous things.

But now, it wasn’t just used as a simple form of communication when either one of you was away. Now it was also used to locate the other when things got a little… hot.

"Lo‘ak… it’s the middle of the night", you groaned, barely able to keep your finger on the speaker button before you halfway drifted off to sleep again. You hear something rustle on the other end of the line, some movements and a breathy laugh before he speaks again, "I‘ll be quick, I promise. Please, tanhì." He sounded a little whiny and you couldn’t help but smile.

"You’re always quick", you joke and then you hear him chuckle a soft, "ouch". It’s silent for a while and it’s like he knew you were considering it, because you literally felt the grin on his face, even when you couldn’t see him.

"Okay", you finally sighed, "But you will come over! And you‘ll have to do all the work. I‘m too tired to move."

"You’re the best! I‘ll be there in two."

Lo‘ak showed up to your marui in a heartbeat, no surprise, letting himself in as if he lived there with you.

You were half-asleep again, your thoughts syrupy-slow and you barely registered how he settled himself next to you, curling himself around your back. Lo‘ak presses himself against you and he’s warm and his breathing fans against your ear. Fit together like this, you could feel your bodies responding to each other. Arousal begins to heat your blood when you feel his erection poke against your back.

"Hey," he whispers and you turn your head to kiss him. In the dark, you only manage to kiss the corner of his mouth, where his lips are curved into a smile.

It’s him who leans in to try again, and then your mouths finally meet. It’s less than a kiss and more of a tired, pressing together.

Thankfully, Lo‘ak doesn’t waste another second of keeping his hands to himself, before you feel his fingertips ghost over your hips and move towards your core.

"What’s got you so needy in the middle of the night?", you giggle as you drape your thigh over his, spreading your legs to make room for him, "Couldn’t sleep?"

"Oh no, I did sleep", he chuckles, "Had some very nice dreams actually."

His hands move to pull the cloth aside that covers your private parts. He doesn't need to see your face to know that you’re smiling lazily and he places a kiss on your neck, enjoying how you tilt your head to accommodate him. He could spend all night just feeling you, getting you slowly worked up but this wasn’t the time. Lo‘ak knows you’re tired and he’s afraid that if he took his time, his actions would come across as too lovingly and that you would get suspicious again.

"What did you dream about?", you ask him, voice low and seductively.

About you. I was dreaming about you.

"Hm dunno. Can’t really remember much, just that I woke up and…", he grinds his cock against your lower back, letting his body speak for him and you hum.

You’re sleep-warm and pliable, so willing to be manhandled that it drives him insane. His cock is so painfully hard, it’s been hard for hours just from thinking about you.

Lo‘ak shifts to cup your sex with his hand, fingers gently swiping through your folds and feeling for your wet entrance. He coats his digits in your slickness, two fingertips prodding at your entrance before he sinks them inside. You gasp at the sudden stretch, toes curling when he begins to move them.

"S-shit, baby I need you so bad", he whispers against your ear, "m'gonna fuck you so good."

"Please", you whimper and he feels your walls squeeze around his digits when he curls them just right, hitting that spongey spot inside you. "Fuck me Lo‘ak, please, please I need it", you sleepily brabble.

Lo‘ak feels how hard his heart beats against his chest when you moan his name, almost like it wants to escape his body and fly away. It would be so much easier that way. He wouldn’t have to feel the guilt that’s eating him up inside, making him feel dirty and wrong when he breaks the most important rule you’ve both so strongly agreed on. He’s not using you for pleasure anymore, it’s not a give and take and it has turned into something different. For you, nothing has changed. But for him, for him it’s so much more than just sex now.

Lo’ak wonders if that makes him a bad person. He’s not only breaking the number one rule, but ignoring one of your boundaries too. And respecting them used to be– no, they still were his priority.

He feels bad about what he’s doing, yet he can’t bring himself to stop. He can’t bring himself to end it, because Lo‘ak feels like he can be more honest with his body than his words. You would probably never realize it like that anyways and for now, he’s fine with that. He would willingly take the guilt, if that meant being able to feel you, being able to have you like this whenever either one of you desired.

Your breathing is decidedly less even by the time he's finished getting you thoroughly wet and he can't wait any longer. He lines his cock up with your slick entrance and slowly pushes forward, until he's completely buried inside. Lo‘ak takes a minute to savour it, his head tucked in the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent. It has grown more intense, so rich and sweet, since the day he realized he felt something for you. It was like your body called for him.

He then pulls out just a few inches before he sets his pace, lazy and deep strokes, and you draw your knees up to give him better access. His next thrust hits you in an even better spot, if your quiet gasp and the sweet little mewl is any indication.

Lo‘ak slips a hand down your body to stroke your clit and the second his fingertips begin to move, he felt your wall squeeze hard around his cock. "Fuck, that’s it’s baby", he groans lowly, "I fucking love when you do that, you’re so tight. Do it again, c‘mon." He gives a light tap to your clit and your hips jerk. You flex your pelvic floor muscles as best as you can, earning a breathy moan from him.

Lo‘aks head felt dizzy.

He was completely absorbed by the feeling of your sweet little pussy. It seemed to lovingly embrace his cock, to massage it and cling to it whenever he dared to pull out just a few inches.

Slowly, his pace increases, until he’s moving his hips fast and hard, panting heavily. His face was bright with arousal by now, bare chest wet with sweat and it felt so, so fucking good. Nothing on Pandora could ever be compared to this feeling, to the tight clutch of your pussy and the noises you made just for him.

Maybe… maybe he should tell you.

No. No, that would only make him feel worse, because there was only one way this would go. Lo‘ak was the one that had started this and he would be the one to end it, if he were to ever confess his true feelings to you. No, he couldn’t tell you.

When Lo’ak opens his eyes, he can’t take them off of the bioluminescence freckles decorating your skin. His free hand comes up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing the supple flesh and gently tugging on your nipple. He loves the freckles on your chest the most. It’s like a path, a pattern, leading all over your body and he wants to kiss every single one of them.

You’re so pretty and no one knows you as well as he does. Lo‘ak doesn’t know anyone else like he knows you— body and mind, all of you.

That’s why he knows to dive down and press more kisses to your throat and why he knows just how to touch your sensitive clit, how to circle that little bundle of nerves just right. When you moan from the sensation, Lo‘aks body shudders in response, like your pleasure was ultimately connected to his own.

"C-Coming, Lo I‘m… oh fuck I’m coming", you whine and that’s what snaps him out of his thoughts. He feels your legs tremble, how you hold your breath and more slickness begins to seep out of you and then it crashes through you.

It’s a feeling of pure bliss for him, to know that your coming on his cock, that he’s the one making you feel like this. He’s relentlessly rubbing your clit and you whimper and sob, reaching down to try and shove his hand away because he’s starting to overstimulate you. It doesn’t seem to stop him.

"Give me one more, please tanhì, come for me again", Lo‘ak groans next to your ear, adding just a little more pressure to your clit to make you cry out and shudder from each firm, deep stroke of his cock. Your inner walls cling tightly to his shaft, squeezing him, flexing around his warm, intruding length, coaxing him deep inside with each thrust.

"Shit– you feel so good, I’m gonna cum too!" His eyes were foggy with lust, and his shaft twitched and throbbed wildly inside you. The velvety-soft feeling of your walls was enough to make him forget everything but the pleasure he craved. Lo’ak wasn’t himself anymore. Everything about you made him lose his mind further. He was working single mindedly towards his orgasm, desperately thrusting over and over into you, chasing the ecstasy of his oncoming climax.

His fingers worked roughly over your clit, fast and tight circles that made you forget to breathe until you felt another orgasm approach quickly.

"Oh fuck, fuck yesyesyes", you squeaked and even in the dark, Lo’ak could see your eyes rolling back into your head as the pleasure overtook you again. He feels your walls spams around him and that’s what finally tips him over the edge too.

Lo’ak buries his face in the crook of your neck, moaning something so low and garbled that you barely picked up that it wasn’t said in Na‘vi. You didn’t care to ask what he said just yet, too busy catching your breath as you slowly came down from your high.

It took Lo‘ak a significant amount of time to finally pull out of you and rearrange his clothes. You barely moved next to him, breathing now even and calm and he knew you were on the verge of falling asleep. He moves as quiet as possible as he pulls his arm out from under your head to get up.

"It’s almost morning, you ass", you tiredly mumble while turning from your left to your right side, "I have to get up at sunrise.”

“Worth it”, he whispers more to himself than to you, a big grin plastered on his face.

“I hate you,” you groan, scrubbing your hands over your eyes. Lo’ak snickers, making his way towards the entrance of your marui.

“Oh, hey, wait,” you then say, propping your head up. He stops short, meeting your gaze. “What did you say, you know, earlier? I was kinda… preoccupied and didn’t hear.” He could hear the teasing tone in your voice.

“Kinda? You wound me,” Lo‘ak says, placing a hand over his heart and pouts playfully. “You think I remember what I said while I was nutting, skxawng?”, he chuckles and then shrugs, causing you to roll your eyes. Before you can reply, though, you yawn. Seeing that Lo‘ak was still standing in the doorway leaves you tempted to throw something at him to finally get him out. You really needed some sleep now, at least for a few more hours.

"See you later?"

"Yes, yes now get out", you wave him off, voice muffled against the furs, that you used as a makeshift pillow, you had now buried your face in.

Lo’ak then finally turns and heads out. But as soon as his back was facing your marui, his playful expression slackens. His brows scrunch up as he walks back to his own tent, staring at the ground in disbelief, hands balled into tight fists on his sides.

I love you.

I love you, was what he had gasped into your neck when he was too overwhelmed with the smell, the taste and the feeling of you. Fuck.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lo‘ak was fuming.

His father couldn’t have picked a better timing for this sort of conversation. Ever since he completed his Iknimaya, years ago when he was welcomed as an adult in his clan, his father had urged him to find a mate. He would ask again and again, introduced all kind of women to him. A few years ago it was embarrassing, having your father make you talk to girls. But now it was simply annoying.

There was a short period of time where his dad had stopped asking, but for whatever reason, he had decided to try again, just a few weeks ago. And that, at the worst timing possible.

"So… you still don’t like any of the women your dad wants to set you up with?"

Your voice was soft, carefully even, as if you walked on tiptoes around him. Speaking to him like he was made out of glass. It made him feel vulnerable and he hated it. He hated it, because it felt good that you allowed him to be vulnerable. Speaking to you always made him feel so much better. But now he realized, that moments like these only made him fall for you even more.

"No", he simply said.

Lo‘ak laid on his back, hands folded over his stomach as he glanced up to the crowns of the trees. A few rays of sun shined through the thick leaves, warming and tickling his skin where they touched him.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you turned to face him. "What about Rena? She seems like a nice girl."

"Rena is fucking crazy", Lo‘ak told you honesty, "Tarem told me she’s super jealous and I’m not into obsessive woman. I need my freedom, you know?" She wouldn’t let me continue to stay friends with you, was what he intended to say.

A deep sigh left your lips and that’s what brings him to finally look at you. You had moved into a sitting position, cross legged, while braiding a loose strand of your hair.

"Sure you do. Have you even met any of them yourself before you judge?"

Lo‘aks brows furrowed before he spoke, his hands wildly gesturing with every word, "I‘m just not ready for a commitment like that. Choosing a mate for life that’s– that’s a lot of pressure. I‘m still young, there’s plenty of time!" His tail trashed against the ground, clearly irritated. It wasn’t like he was lying. He really wasn’t ready for all of that— but the fine difference to make it the whole truth was, the he only wasn’t ready for such a commitment… if it wasn’t with you.

"How come your parents don’t make you choose a mate? You’re just two years younger than me!"

"Well, probably because I’m not the olo’eyktan’s son", you chuckled.

"Neteyam is next in line, not me", Lo‘ak grumbled and again, you sighed.

"I know that myself", there’s a long pause as if you were trying to choose your next words right, "Lo‘ak, your father is just trying to give you the same happiness he has with your mother. You—"

"My dad is just trying to set me up because he thinks that will make me stay out of trouble", he interrupts you, probably a bit too harsh for his own liking. Lo‘ak wanted to punch himself for the way you looked at him now. "I’m sorry, kalin. Can we… can we just like, not talk about this anymore? I wanted to see you because I didn’t want to think about this right now."

This. This meant, the thought of loosing you to someone else. Having to choose someone as his mate that wasn’t you.

"You’re right, sorry", you quickly apologize with a smile, a genuine smile that warms his cheeks. Lo‘ak inhales a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as if that would make him forget the world around him. Forget you.

The gentle touch of two soft, warm palms on his thighs then snaps him back to reality. Opening his eyes, Lo‘ak props himself on his forearms to look at you. You had settled yourself closer to him, your hands now gently massaging his upper thighs and ever so slowly, working themselves further up.

"What are you doing?", he chuckles with the tilt of his head and some of his braids sway over his shoulder with the movement. The smile on your lips is smug and he knows that look on your face, like you’ve planned something.

"Hm, I don’t know", you shrug innocently, "I was just wondering if there‘s anything I can do to make you feel better?" The seductive tone in your voice makes something stir inside him, yet he can’t do anything but smile weakly.

There’s nothing he wants to do more right now than to feel you, hold you close and loose himself in the pleasure that you provide, but the thought of loosing you to someone else, the thought of his destiny being with someone else still lays heavy in his heart.

"I don’t know if I’m in the mood for this", he sighs.

"Not in the mood? You?", you gasp jokingly, "Who are you and what did you do to my Lo‘ak?"

My Lo‘ak. The words make heat creep up his cheeks and the tip of his ears.

Sometimes he forgets how well you know him, and then he’s reminded of it at the worst possible moments, like right now.

The sex was one thing. But to have someone understand your mind is a different kind of intimacy. Something he wasn’t willing to loose.

Still, Lo‘ak doesn’t resist when your hands move further up, massaging the muscles of his thighs and caressing his skin. It just feels so good, he can’t help but let it happen. He watches in awe as you inch closer to him, untying his loincloth to let his half hard cock spring free. You don’t even hesitate to reach out for him, both hands closing around his shaft to feel him grow fully hard in your palms as you begin to stroke him. Lo‘ak mutters some quiet curses, watching how you let spit pool in your mouth before letting it drip from your tongue to the mushroomy head of his cock. Now lubed with spit, your hands glide over his shaft so much easier, so smooth, that the pace of your strokes effortlessly increases.

"Tanhì, baby, please", Lo‘ak grunts, hips twitching in an effort to stay seated and not fuck right into your palm. "Shh", you coo with a smug grin, "Let me make you feel good, Lo. Just relax. We’re gonna fuck soon enough." Your promising words send a shiver down his spine.

"Oh eywa", he prays, his voice shaking and barely above a whisper, when your thumb starts to tease his slit, where the first bead of pre-cum had already formed and spilled over. You smear the sticky, clear liquid over the soft skin of his tip and he groans.

Slow and steadily, you add more speed and pressure to your hands, moving up and down, sometimes in a twisting motion that produces these obscene squelching sounds in your spit slicked palms. Lo‘ak moans and his cock twitches heavily, hips stuttering as he chases his upcoming orgasm. Pleasure ripples through him with each firm stroke and he feels his chest tightening.

"F-Fuck, fuck, holy sh–shit that feels so good", he curses, squirming underneath your touch, with his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut. "Keep going, no wait—", his eyes fly open to find yours, "stop, stop, stop tanhì I’m close!"

"What’s wrong?", you tilt your head and giggle, the pace in which you’re stroking his fat cock never faltering and he almost chokes on his next words. "Can I come inside you?", he begs with a whimper, "Please, please let me come in you, I’m— I don’t want to come like that. Need to fill you up with my cum, baby. Please."

You squeeze your thighs together at his words, a wave of arousal pooling between them. The whine Lo’ak produces, when you don’t let up, is helpless. He’s twitching, gasping, moaning, unable to form words as you work his cock, hard and fast.

"Hmm, you can do that later, okay? Just let go for me now. Come. I know you want to, don’t hold back, Lo."

Twisting your hands, you do that thing you know he loves, that always tips him over the edge. You squeeze just below the tip of his cock with one hand, the other stroking his length so hard that his heavy balls smack against your palm the same way they would against your clit when he would take you from behind, face shoved against the ground. Like you knew that’s the imagine that’s playing in his minds eye as you bring him to his orgasm.

"Oh great mother— FUCK", Lo‘ak groans and then sucks in a sharp breath of air. He cums with short bursts of exclamations, thick ropes of warm, sticky cum shooting out, flowing over your hands and his own stomach and thighs. "There you go, that’s it", you coo so sweetly as you continue to pump his cock, it’s enough to make him moan. Trembles run through him and when you don’t stop stroking him, only slow down and lessen the pressure, his thighs jolt. His hips move, like he’s about to rise up, to get away from the intensity, but your hands keep holding onto him. Moving one hand to his stomach, you feel the muscles tense underneath the soft flesh.

Lo‘aks breathing is ragged and heavy and you keep a loose hold of his cock, smiling at the way he’s twitching with the aftershocks. It’s no surprise that he doesn’t grow soft in your palm, still hard as a rock thanks to his enviable stamina. You give him a final squeeze, causing a few more droplets of his cum to seep out of his slit and run over your knuckles.

"Holy shit", he shakily exhales, "you’re way too fucking good at this."

And that’s really the problem, isn’t it? You’ve done this for so long that you both know what gets each other off. You know what it is about your bodies that the other person loves. You’ve learned and grown together and pleasured and fucked each other until there was nothing else to learn.

"Thank you", you beam with pride, your cheeks turning into a soft pink and without thinking, Lo’ak reaches for you, hand cupping the back of your neck so he can haul you into a kiss. You go willingly, matching his vigor, match his energy like no one else does. And that’s one of the things he loves about you. One of the things that’s been driving him crazy, keeping him up until ungodly hours as he tries to figure out how someone could affect him this way.

You rest your hand on his chest, tilting your head and he instantly wedges his tongue between your lips. With your other hand, you free yourself from your loincloth, with the simple pull of a string that holds it together. Lo‘ak hastily pulls you on top of him and positions you to hover over his cock.

His hands settle on your hips and he wants to pull you down so badly, he want to split you open on his cock, wants you to scream so loudly that every living thing in the forest knows what’s going on. He wants the whole world to hear.

Lo‘ak is so painfully hard and aching as if he didn’t just came. Just like he always is when you touch him, when you arch your back like this, when your hands hold onto his shoulders. The soft curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts and your glistening cunt hovering just inches above his cock— Lo‘ak is so intimately aware of everything he loves about your body in this moment, it makes his heart swell and his cock stir.

But instead of slamming your hips down like he so desperately wanted you to, you decide to sit down on his length, trapping it between his lower stomach and your pussy. You glide yourself against it, grind your clit along his cum covered shaft and he shudders. Your movements are painfully slow, too slow.

It isn’t supposed to be so slow, so intimate, as it is, so smooth with no worries or such flowing words.

"You feel soo good, hmm so hard just for me? Can’t wait to have you inside of me", you whisper, soft praises falling from your lips before you press them against his own again, tongues curling around each other. Meanwhile, your slickness mixes with his still warm cum and it drives him further insane, knowing just how easy it would be to sink his cock into you right now.

"Let me take over", Lo’ak whispers against your lips, "please. You’re too soft, I don’t want it soft today." He adds more pressure to his grip on your waist, tempted to just manhandle you, flip you onto your stomach to take what he so desperately craves for.

"How do you want it then?", you ask lowly. Your eyes are half lidded with lust and you circle your hips until the head of his cock prods at your entrance. Feeling the muscles of your tight hole clench around his very tip makes him hiss.

It’s supposed to be wrong and needful, something dirty to make the whole forest regret ever enduring such a view, such sounds and smells.

"Rough, like… I don’t want to be able to still think anymore, that kind of rough."

What he wants from you in this moment is not warmth or comfort, he wants his deepest desires to be fulfilled and within that, be left limp and used and emotions disobeyed. It’s to be wrongful and with scrunched eyebrows, dirty. It’s not supposed to be like this. Not slow and sensual, teasing and loving and comforting. It’s not supposed to be like this, not right now. Not when this fueled the fire in his heart, made him want you even more, made him love you even more.

Lo‘ak wanted to fuck. He wanted to feel used and not loved, because that would only make things so much worse than they already were. He knows you mean good, that you want to help him feel better, that’s why you go slow and soft and almost lovingly. You just didn’t know what it did to him. You just wanted to comfort your best friend.

"Oh I can do that", you murmur with a grin, "Want me to fuck the thoughts out of your head? Okay." Thank eywa, he thought.

And then you suddenly rise your hips and slam yourself down, hard, taking his whole length in one thrust, stretching you out to the max and he knows that must’ve hurt at least a little. Your mouth falls open and you both moan in unison. Lo‘ak’s thighs tense, trembling, because it’s only been a few minutes since he came and he’s not sure how much it will take for him to do it again. But you feel so good, your pussy pulling him in, wet walls clenching around his girth and he just knows that won’t be problem. He probably had to calm himself in order not to come too early.

In this position, he’s completely at your mercy and you don’t hesitate to fuck yourself onto him. He hisses at the sensation, at how your cunt clutches him, trying to keep him inside even when you lift your hips up and slam back down again. This goes on for several minutes, with you bouncing on top of him and Lo‘ak moaning and whining and squirming underneath you.

The mushroomy head of his cock knock against your cervix with every thrust and the grip he has on your waist is hard enough to leave bruises. And that’s exactly what he needs. He wants to drown in this moment, in this feeling. But then you moan his name, so sweet it feels like warm syrup poured straight into his brain, "Lo‘ak, oh fu-ck! Lo‘ak, ah!"

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? Lo’ak asks himself, is love supposed to feel like you’re drowning until the other person brings you just that little bit closer to them and you find air again?

Maybe it isn’t love at all, just the familiarity and warmth of simply being with you, being with his best friend, and all the rushing happiness in that alone. Maybe it’s not love, maybe it’s just the afterglow of every orgasm that you give him, that makes him believe he’s in love with you. Maybe he’s confusing friendship with love, because of the sex, the intimacy. Two things that shouldn’t mix at all, sex and friendship, probably for this exact reason.

Maybe he’s just so starved for affection that he mistakes what you show him, the affection a friend shows him, with love. Is that what it is?

Your arms suddenly shift from where you held onto his shoulders and it snaps him out of his thoughts. It’s not enough. He’s not supposed to think, it’s not hard enough if he can still think.

"Harder", Lo‘ak begs, "Need it harder than that, c’mon tanhì, give me your worst. Fuck me like you mean it, I know you have it in you." You brush your gentle hands through his hair, his braids are a mess by now but you don’t really care as you fist them and tug harshly with every bounce of your hips and he moans loudly at this. His cock twitches wildly inside you, showing just how much he was enjoying this, so you move further to close your hand around his queue and pull, hard, making him gasp and whimper.

Another thing you didn’t know about was, that Lo‘ak couldn’t stop daydreaming about what it may feel like to form tsaheylu with you. To be bonded with you, not just by heart but by soul too. To be physically connected with you, being able to feel what you feel. To be yours forever. The thought alone was enough to make goosebumps appear on his arms. But that’s all that it was and all that it will ever be. A thought, a simple daydream. A silly little fantasy that would never come true.

He tries to push these thoughts, those that threatens his peace and calm. He slaps them away, bringing him back to the pleasure he's receiving.

Lo‘ak abruptly sits up beneath you. His hands wrap tight around your waist, lips placing wet, open mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

He feels sometimes rise in throat, burning like lava that erupts from a volcano and he can’t hold it in any longer, not without burning his tongue.

“I love you”, he murmurs into your skin, lowly, like maybe you won’t hear him if he speaks quietly enough. It’s not like you would understand the human’s language, anyways.

"W-What?", you ask, completely unsuspecting of the foreign words falling from his mouth and it makes him wince.

Lo‘ak presses his face to the space between your breasts, smelling your sweat and your natural scents and he pulls you all the way down by your hips so you’re sitting on the very base of his cock, rocking you along it.

"I love you so much", he mumbles, just a little louder this time because he’s unable to hold it in any longer, "You’re my best friend and I don’t want to loose you, but I love you. I- I‘m so fucking scared to loose you, you mean everything to me. You’re the one good thing in my life and I just can’t live without you, you hear me? But I love you and I want to tell you. I love you so much."

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and use him for leverage to lift yourself up and down on his cock again, your wet cunt squeezing, hugging him. Sloppy noises make their way out and he vaguely recognizes the words falling from your lips.

“Lo’ak I… I don’t understand", you whine into his ear, "Say it so I can understand you.” You demand and he’s helpless, a slave to your desires, every sweet roll of your hips sending bolts of lightening through his guts. He grunts, fingers digging into your hips, pressing his lips together into a thin line to prevent himself from spilling any more unwanted confessions.

Lo‘ak wants to— by Eywa, he really fucking wants to, he wants to tell you that he loves you, that he actually means it and he’s not confusing anything and it isn't just because of what's going on between you both, it’s not because of the sex. He loves you for yourself. For how you make him feel, for how you treat him. He wants to tell you so many things, but at the same time, he's afraid of fucking up your friendship. It hurts to know that you will never look at him the way he looks at you, but he's willing to accept that you'll probably always be just friends. Because even then, he's still getting what he so desperately wants from you.

He’s willing to accept that. Or at least that’s what he thought…

“Say it!” You gasp, the friction of his pubic bone against your clit sending you into a frenzy. You raise yourself up higher, until only the tip is inside. Your thighs work to keep you up and then you slam back down and he shudders, moaning like it’s been punched out of him.

His arms encircle your middle, holding you so tight that you can barely breathe. He’s pretty sure you can feel his pulse thumping through his dick and then he bucks up into you, making your tits bounce against his chest and you gasp as the tip of his cock thumps against something that feels different than the rest. “Oh f-fuck, there?”

“There, yes right there,” you moan back.

He seizes your hips, holding you in place. You whine, desperately, and he’s quick to oblige you. He thrusts up, cock disappearing and reappearing in a blur, tirelessly fucking against your g-spot, his thighs tensing at the tight squeeze of your walls around his cock.

In the corner of his eyes, he catches the way your teeth sink into your lower lip and something primal comes over him, an animalism for your noises to overpower the familiar sounds of the forest.

"Lo, what– what did you say?", you mewl and Lo‘ak mentally curses you for not letting go of it. Just forget about it already, he thought. Why couldn’t you just ignore it? One of his hands wedges itself between your bodies, thumb blurring down to your clit. He fondles the overly sensitive, wet nub and groans when he feels your pussy clench even harder around his throbbing cock. You borderline scream, trying your best to smother it with a scramble of your hand. It doesn’t help, the noise choppy with every powerful thrust of his hips into you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m— I‘m so close", you cry out, chanting curses like they’re prayers.

"I know, baby, I know. Can feel you squeezing my cock. You’re so fucking tight like this. D-Don’t you dare stop", he moans, "I‘m gonna come with you."

"Say it. Tell me what you just said Lo‘ak, I‘m serious, I w—" He cuts you off with a well-timed snap of his hips, burying himself into you so deep, it’s rendering you speechless. Your mouth gapes open, eyebrows scrunched with pleasure as the stretch of his cock hurdles you over the edge and you come with sob.

You’re even tighter than before, your cunt acting desperate as it tries to keep him from pulling out. He moans your name into the crook of your neck, holding your waist for stability as he rises his hips off the ground to thrust into you. You feel every muscle in his body tighten under you, a stinging pain shooting through you from the death-grip he had on your hips, pulling you up and down on his cock when you’re unable to ride him on your own anymore.

Lo‘ak grunts and squeezes his eyes shut and he keeps most of his length inside, only pulling out a few inches at a time before pressing right back in and then he comes with a violent shudder, feeling his whole body seize with pleasure. His cum fills you within seconds, so hot you think it might leave burn marks, pooling below your belly button as rope after rope shoots from the tip. He’s panting, cock twitching with every breath, and for a moment it feels endless, but then—

"I- I see you, tanhì. And I love you. I love you, okay? Fuck, I love you so much!" He blurts out so fast, his brain is unable to translate into the sky people’s language in time and he has no idea what he even just said. He prays that you didn’t understand him, didn’t hear him— But unfortunately, you did. You heard him loud and clear, if the way your eyes widened was any indication of it.

And for less than a second, there’s something in your eyes that gives him the impression that this might not be the end. But then something in them shifts. And you look at him, you properly look at him now, as if the words had finally sunken in. And suddenly it feels like the whole world around him begins to crumble.

He watches the way your pupils dilate, how they flick from one eye to the other, how you swallow around the lump in your throat while his own has dried out so much, he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to use his voice again. And then your mouth opens and time stops. He sees the way your lips move but the sound takes a while to reach his ears.

And this, this moment right here, is the ultimate and unstoppable impact after a long fall. But unlike the impact to the ground after an actual fall, short and deadly, this right here is merciless, it’s brutal and gruesome and so, so much more painful.

"Oh, Lo‘ak… I’m so sorry…"

1K notes · View notes

dabislittlemouse · 7 months

Note

Hello! I just discovered your page and I love your writing style.

I had this idea in my head for while now.

You know how Dabi went and visit Hawks’ mom for information about him? Well, what if he had a lovable little sister who was clueless about who Dabi is. She thought “oh, he is friends with my big brother there is no harm talking with him.”

Dabi flirts with her a good bit and Hawks comes home like “get away from my cute little sister!” But he does it around about way.

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.1)

PART 2 // PART 3// THE COMPLETE MASTERLIST divider by @cafekitsune

ෆ Pairing: DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon in the next chapters so this one is mostly safe.

ෆ Before you read further: this is written entirely on Dabi’s POV. There are specific descriptions for Hawks’ sister such as hair color, eye color, skin, wings etc. and she is a female, age 20-21.

ෆ A/N: I love this request so much, it had my writing flowing so naturally and my motivation reached the sky. I hope you like this!

Another boring day of relentlessly hunting down for information. Walking in the empty alleyway, the weather’s getting bitter, clouds darkening the sky as rain is starting to fall, plinking against my black leather jacket. Man, I fucking hate rain. Feels uncomfortable on my skin, not to mention it weakens my quirk. But I have to finish this job. Once I start something today, I never leave it for tomorrow, cause we never know what tomorrow could bring. Unexpected things are not my forte, I prefer to plan my steps way ahead, I look closely at every clue and untangle any information that I see beneficial. Always one step ahead of my enemies, nothing goes away without catching my eye. No matter how small it is.

No matter how fast it is.

Yes, Hawks, the fastest hero out there, too fast for his own good. I chuckle under my breath, rolling my eyes at the thought of the traitorous pro hero. He’s been pretty useful so far, proven himself loyal to the cause. But something doesn’t sit right with me, hence the reason why I’m out there searchin’ for more information. Maybe it’s his sickening hero charm, makes me wanna vomit. Maybe it’s the fake smile he puts on that stupid face, who knows.. a traitor will always be a traitor. If he went as far as to betray the heroes, I won’t be surprised if he turns his back on us villains again.

Though if that happens, he will be incinerated before he even knows it. Burnt to ashes, those red feathers set ablaze by my own scorching flames. My hand itches at the thought of showing him his place, though I gotta stick with the plan and use him for all his worth.

Bzzz.

The sound of my burner phone grabs my attention. Probably one of my men who I’ve sent to stalk and watch over Hawks. Or maybe Twice, wanting to fuck around because he is lonely. Tch, I’m not in the mood either way.

“This better be important..” I rasp under my breath. Lately my patience’s been thin. Don’t know why.

“Sir, we have found something”

It was indeed one of the men I hired. Yeah, about time they finally made themselves useful. I hum in response, letting the man continue.

“The woman we found, she might be related to Hawks. According to the clues we’ve been gathering, it’s highly possible she could be his mother. If not his mother, then for sure someone from his family. We have found her address, all we need is your order so we can break in and get her for you, sir” the man explained.

“Mm there’s no need. I’ll pay the lady a visit myself” I smirk, knowing that she will be more intimidated by my grotesque sight only and start spilling everything. After the men give me her address, I waste no time to go there. Fortunately not too far from where I am right now.

Something weird forms in my chest. Not sure why, but I feel like I’m gonna have fun~

******

The picture I got sent was of a woman who seemed to be in her 40s, pale skin and exhausted eyes, big fluffy light brown hair, almost drained out of life. This is beyond weird, the mother of a pro hero who looked like she had lost her will to live? Ain’t no way. Supposedly the families of pro heroes usually live their best life.

A thought runs through my head and I chuckle. Damn, I should know by now, the families of pro heroes are those who in fact suffer the most.

Memorising the woman’s face and the address, I am now right in front of her house. It’s a small normal house, nothing fancy or special about it whatsoever. The rain has long stopped. I stop in front of her door, before giving it a few slow knocks. Nobody opens the door. I knock once again, if this door isn’t opened soon I’m gonna have to-

“Coming!! Just a second!!” A chirpy voice was heard, footsteps getting faster towards the door. This voice sounded lively, not the voice I could’ve imagined for the woman I’m looking for.

As the door opened, the sight in front of me leaves me speechless. My eyes widen a bit, taking in at person in front of me.

It’s a girl. Not the old woman in picture, this is a young pretty thing. Could be at her twenties, not sure. As she opens the door wider, she fixes her disheveled hair, removing those golden locks off her face while her caramel eyes fixed on mine, blinking in confusion with those pretty lashes. And her pjs, almost too revealing. Freckles cover her cheeks, her skin looks soft. It doesn’t take long for me to notice a pair of angelic white wings behind her.

“Umm hello, how can I help you with?” she asks, her voice meek and shy as she looks up at me under her lashes.

Fuck, it’s like the whole world stopped the moment I laid eyes her pretty face. I need to focus.

“Sorry for the bother, dollface” I manage to bring a friendly smile on my face but my raspy voice always betrays me. “I am looking for Hawks. I’m a friend of his..”

“Oh, Hawks? I’m sorry but my brother is not here at the moment. Maybe he is at his agency, did you check there?” she smiles back.

Before I find myself wondering why she is not scared by my appearance, my mind focuses on that one simple word: brother. She called Hawks her brother, so that means..

“Wait, don’t tell me that guy kept such a pretty thing like you hidden from me? You’re his sister?” I smirk, leaning on the doorstep, still stunned by the fact that the pro hero had a little sister.

“O-Oh yeah, I’m Takami Y/N!” she blushes, and my smirk grows wider knowing that such simple interaction already got me half of the information. That Hawks has a sister, and his last name is Takami.

“He doesn’t prefer to talk much about us in public” she continues. “It’s best for our safety”

Poor naive little thing. Got no clue in the world who I am, thinking I’m a friend. Is this how the hero looks over his family?

“Well well, that guy is full of surprises. You look a lot like him to be honest, that pretty hair of yours and those wings. A real angel aren’t cha?”

Her face is a blushing mess, all she can do is squirm in front of me and smile awkwardly. I came here for other purposes but damn it.. this pretty angel got me fucking hooked already. So petite, so innocent, a ray of sunshine, if I touch her with my destructive bloody hands I could probably defile her.

This thought gives me a sick twisted feeling in my chest, my eyes flaring in excitement.

“I-If you’d like I can invite you over for some tea? I can call my brother to come in the meantime. It’s only me and my mom here” she shyly says, breaking eye contact. I may be delusional, I am not the most handsome motherfucker out there I know, but she is acting like she saw her school crush. But I have to admit, I do have a sort of charm too. Call it villain charm if you will.

“Sure thing”. Making it easier for me princess, but also harder to focus on my main goal when you’re such beautiful distraction.

As my eyes wander around the living room, she hurries to the kitchen to prepare the tea. Enough time for me to find the lady in question. Her room was not hard to find, she was sitting on her bed. Simply entering and closing the door, I reach to her fast, putting a hand on her mouth.

“Don’t make a single sound or I will burn your sweet daughter to ashes” I threaten, showing her the blue flames flickering on my fingers. She nods, sweating and eyes widened in panic.

“Now..” I let her go while she stands there frozen in fear. “I’ll ask you some questions regarding to your son… and you’ll answer honestly. And trust me, I can tell when someone’s lying, so do not test me woman” I say sternly, all she does is whimper.

****

“Hey I thought you left?”

I find the pretty angel sitting on the couch, a confused look on her face.

“Ah m’sorry doll, had to use the bathroom. Also had a little chat with your mother, been a long time since I last saw her..”

It takes a lot for me to not burst into laughter, acting as if I’ve been Keigo’s childhood friend or something.

Keigo. Keigo Takami. This was his full name according to that woman. She didn’t hesitate to give me all the essential information, afraid I’d burn this place down and harm her precious daughter. Apparently that birdbrain’s been taken from the HSPC since a kid, trained to be a professional hero. And most importantly, his dad was a criminal, murdered someone back then.

Tch, the son of a criminal becoming a hero.

And the son of a hero becoming a criminal.

What a world.

I sit down on the couch, almost too close to his sister. My eyes hungrily take on the sight of her soft plush thighs, her chest, her plump lips.

“Tell me more about yourself dollface” I say, totally ignoring the tea and playing with some of her hair. “Y’gonna be a hero like your brother?”

“Ah none of the sort. I’d rather not get myself into heroic stuff” she giggles, and that sound has my jeans tighten uncomfortably. It’s taking everything in me to not pounce on her right here right now, stripping her off everything and making her scream for me. Just imagine the sight her brother would come across to if he suddenly shows up, her little sister all naked and bruised, used for my own sick pleasure..

Such an angelic being, I have the need to fucking break her and shape her however I see fit. A man like me could never be deserving of her.

“You don’t want to be a hero? How come? Wouldn’t you like to save people, princess? To fight against big scary villains who threaten the innocent out there..”

“I don’t think that’s a job for me. I can still help people without being a hero. And I don’t think I’d be strong or brave enough to go against villains, you know?” she says, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“Awn, poor thing, y’scared from villains?” I grin, placing my scarred hand on her knee, feeling her smooth skin. She squirms, probably by the warmth of it. The way she bites her lower lip nervously has my cock throbbing in my pants. Little does she know she’s in the presence of one of the most dangerous villains in Japan.

“Y’think they gonna hurt you? Maybe they will, if they see you so cute and vulnerable out there, they won’t hesitate to hunt ya down”. My firm grip on her knee has her swallowing, nodding silently.

“So I hope your brother protects you enough” I chuckle. “Cause see, if I was a villain? Man, I’d do anything to kidnap you and make you mine”

Her eyes widen, she laughs nervously, thinking this was some joke. Far from it.

“But you’re no villain right? You’re just my brother’s friend?” she murmurs, feeling tense. Her body language is so easy to read.

“Yes baby, I’m only his friend. My appearance might creep ya out but I promise I’m safe”

She seems to calm down a little. Completely unaware of what I could be capable of.

“Your appearance is not creepy by the way” she says. “I’d say it’s more.. unique. In a good way. I’ve never seen someone who looks like you”

I raise my eyebrows. Her words have me taken aback. For the longest time all I’ve gotten were stares filled with fear or disgust, couldn’t blame them. But this was a new thing, I feel something strange in my chest at her comment. Fuck, I don’t like this. I can’t seem to find any good comeback now, not when she’s staring at me so longingly. I’d rather have her scared, calling me an ugly monster, rather than this.

“Cute little thing wants to get on my good side huh? Wanna charm me, get me hooked with those sweet words? Y’need to be careful~” I say teasingly, reaching to grab her chin and have her look at me. I stare at her caramel eyes, wondering how they’d look full of tears.

“N-No it’s just the truth, I’m not lying” she shakes her head. “If I found you scary I wouldn’t have let you come inside”

“Come inside?” I raise an eyebrow. “Y’need to be more specific..or this might get another meaning”

She looks confused, not getting it at first, but the moment she sees the perverse smile on my face, her cheeks flush in embarrassment.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that pervert! I meant come inside my house!”

I let out a laugh, probably the only genuine laugh I had after such a long time. God, she’s so cute and fun to mess with. Such gem that Hawks kept hidden from me. Well, not anymore.

After some time chatting with my angel, the door bursts open. I turn around, smirking at the familiar face.

“Look who decided to show up!” I stand up, opening my arms as if waiting to receive a hug from him. “The winged hero. I was looking for you. I had the pleasure of meeting your family, y’never told me you had a little sister? Such pretty thing you never mentioned her to anyone, I thought we were close friends Keigo..”

The expression on his face is entertaining, he looks beyond shocked. Probably didn’t expect for me to call him by his real name. Or when his sister comes after me, too close, a bright charming smile on her face.

“Welcome home! I invited Dabi inside to wait for you, couldn’t let him out in the pouring rain-”

“Y/N get back in your room. Now” The hero’s voice is stern, serious, and the poor girl’s smile fades off her face. His piercing gaze never leaving mine. I’m not intimidated at the slightest, it’s mostly amusing.

“But Kei-”

“Now” he repeats. As she prepares to turn around and leave, I reach to grab her hand, not letting her go.

“Very overprotective aren’t cha, big brother?” I smirk, bringing his sister closer to me, wrapping my hands around her waist. Hawks looks like he is ready to kill me, anger visible in his golden eyes now that I’m playing around with his little sister, probably his weakest spot that he tried to keep hidden from the world.

“Me and her already clicked. She’s very fun to have around, we chatted a lot when you weren’t here didn’t we angel?” I turn to her, all she does is blush and nod shyly. I tap my fingers around her small waist, making her squirm. It takes everything in me to not dig my fingers on that soft skin and leave bruises. Then I reach for her white wings, and apparently she is very sensitive there. The way those wings flutter and she tries to break free from my grip, whining for me to stop. And all of this in front of her brother.

“Very nice of you to treat my friend this way” Hawks says, seems like he already caught up what’s going on. He’s playing it cool, so I won’t hurt his family. “Dabi, could you come outside now? We have stuff to discuss.”

I do not protest further, there’ll be enough time to stay with my angel now that I already know where she lives and where she studies. My new little toy.

“See ya later, dollface” I pinch her cheek, before sliding my hand across her jawline. My thumb touching her lower lip slightly, and the softest gasp leaves her pretty mouth.

“Bye Dabi..” she whispers, almost hypnotised by my touch. My name rolling off her tongue is the sweetest melody my ears could ever hear.

Can’t wait to come back for you, sweetheart

Tags: @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @shadowsandshapes @dabihawksluva @mossy-opal @daniidil @holydayaria @syrenkitsune @arinexeisnotworking @cherrykisssess @doumadono @spltbtch @sukunas-bitxh @awalkingshame @bubblegumsblog @highbats69

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #x reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x fem reader #dabi smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #dabi fanfic #hawks #keigo takami #hawks bnha #mha hawks

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wildernessuntothemselves · 4 months

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Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 3

Word Count: 6k

Genre: smut, angst

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again.

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous.

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before?

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams.

Warnings: fem!reader, cunnilingus, missionary, references to rape, dub-con, dom!beomgyu, sub!reader

You’ve decided you were overthinking everything. Your dreams mean nothing. Your dream about Taehyun meant nothing. It was just your stressed brain being weird. Though it was awkward being around him for a couple of days after that dream and feeling that inexplicable feeling of guilt and—you’d never say it outloud–love springs up your throat every time your eyes meet.

Luckily, you wouldn’t have to think about it too much today when there is something much more distracting to deal with.

"What's with your eye?” You ask Taehyun, noting the eyepatch he was wearing. “Is it a stye?"

He shakes his head, grinning as he pulls the eyepatch aside to reveal a black eye. You gasp. "Oh my god! Did you get in a fight?"

"You could say that.” He shrugs, grin still in full effect. “I'm a wrestler."

“Oh. That is… not shocking.” You frown, making him laugh. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You seem to be the type.” You say as you give him a once over. Despite his sweet and innocent looks, he had a kind of roughness about him that gave him away. “Yesterday when you were helping me with the door of the back room, you nearly ripped it off its hinges.”

“You said it was stuck so I expected more resistance. I just didn’t account for your chicken arms.” He teases, making you gasp, affronted. “How dare you? Check out these guns.”

You pull up the sleeves of your shirt, flexing said chicken arms in various wrestler poses. “I bet I can even take you, Mr. fighter.”

“I bet you can.” Something about the way he says that, low and a little hoarse brings a blush to your cheeks, a certain double entendre you’re not sure he meant hanging in the air, but you decide to just barrel past it. You can’t let your stupid brain keep overthinking the smallest things. You refuse to let in that weird sense of intimacy and familiarity that your dreams have conjured up seep into your reality and your relationship with him. You’re purely coworkers, maybe tentative friends, nothing more.

“Damn right.” You declare, satisfied. “Now let me take a look at that eye. My mother is a nurse, you know?”

“Is she?” He sits down obediently, letting you examine his eye closely. You start by making sure the eye itself isn’t hurt and that his vision is clear, getting him to follow your finger to test his eye movements and making him read a few things at a distance, before you move on to the possible brain injury. “You didn’t pass out, did you?”

“No.”

“Did you vomit?”

“Nope.”

“Had any seizures?”

“No.”

“Do you remember everything?”

“I wish I didn’t.” He snorted. “Damn bastard floored me with that punch.”

You wince as you imagine that kind of impact that would bring him down and cause such a black eye. Instinctively, you reach forward to brush your thumb gently under his bruised eye. “Aw, does it hurt?”

“It feels better now.” He smiles, looking at you strangely, and your heart skips a beat. Okay, surely you’re not just imagining this, are you? Your brain can’t be that much of an asshole.

But before you can attempt to make sense of the way he’s acting, an angry voice cuts through the delicate moment savagely.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Your boyfriend’s voice is like ice water down your back, making you jump away from Taehyun immediately. You turn to him in shock.“Beomgyu! What are you doing here?”

“Checking in on you, but I’ve clearly arrived at the wrong time.” He spits, eyeing Taehyun angrily, and you quickly realize the source of the misunderstanding, waving your hands in the air in denial, trying to dispel whatever erroneous conclusions you’re sure his mind came up with. Damn it, it’s bad enough dealing with Beomgyu’s jealousy without you unintentionally feeding it. “It’s nothing. I was just checking his black eye. He got injured at a match.”

“He’ll get another one if he doesn’t step away from you.” Beomgyu threatens and you hear Taehyun snort from next to you. “Yeah, right. As if you could ever land a punch on me.”

Goddammit, Taehyun. You’re trying to de-escalate things here!

“Wanna see?” Beomgyu growls, rising up to the challenge immediately and charging forward. But you quickly step between him and Taehyun, not wanting a fight to break out in the middle of your workplace.

"Beomgyu calm down. You’re making a scene." You whisper, noticing how the customers' eyes have turned to you. But of course, Beomgyu doesn’t care, his anger and jealousy getting the best of him. "Am I? I'm sorry, should I wait for you to fuck him on the counter first?"

Humiliation sears your skin at his accusation, said so loudly and easily in front of your coworkers and everyone in the shop. You’re so embarrassed you could cry, but that would only humiliate you further. So you quickly grab his arm and pull him out the back and into the alleyway behind the cafe where no one can see you.

You can’t believe he’s doing this again. He promised he will get himself under control. You’ve tried to reassure him that you only love him. You’ve tried again and again to put boundaries when he acts out, but then he completely crashes through them with no regard for you. Why should he when you always forgive him and take him back after his abhorrent behavior? It’s your fault. You’ve allowed him to go this far and now he’s out of control. You need to put an end to this.

"I'm done. This is over. I'll come around later to get my stuff." You tell him, and his whole demeanor changes–all wrath is gone from his face and he turns into a wounded animal in the blink of an eye, shaking his head in denial as his eyes flood with tears. "No. No. You can't leave me. Not again."

"What the fuck are you talking about?” You shout harshly, and he flinches. God, why does that still make you feel bad despite everything he’s done to you? “I never left you. Maybe that's the problem."

“No, please, I'm sorry!” He wails, "I'm sorry I blew up. I'm sorry I made a scene. I just can’t stand to see him with you. I know he wants to take you from me."

His unwarranted conviction drives you mad. Does he really think every single guy is out to steal you from him? "You are insane."

Another guy would take the hint and dial it down on the crazy, but not Beomgyu. As if to prove that insanity to you, he falls to his knees at your feet, grabbing onto your legs tightly. "Don't leave me. I can't live without you."

"Go home, Beomgyu.” You grit out, trying to hold yourself back from falling for his pathetic display because truthfully you’re just as pathetic as him. It’s easy to be stern and immovable when he’s angry and lashing out, but it’s another thing entirely when he acts so vulnerable. When he’s angry, he’s an asshole who is hurting you, but when he’s sad, he’s your loving boyfriend who just needs reassurance and care.

"I can't. Not without you.” He insists, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself down. “I need space, Beomgyu.”

“You know I can’t–”

“I need space to calm down and forget what you've done so I won't leave you." You snap, finally making him take his hands off you, realizing that though it kills him, backing off for once might be the thing that saves your relationship this time.

Still he needs that extra reassurance. “Do you promise you won’t leave?”

“Beomgyu–”

“Please!” He hiccups, hanging onto the thread of hope. “Please promise me that you won’t just leave.”

“I won’t.” You grits out. You can’t. You wish it was ever that fucking easy to leave him, but he’s got you hooked on him good.

"Okay." He gets up shakily. "Can I have a kiss?"

Does he not know how to quit? Has he no sense of awareness of the situation? Can’t he tell how much he has pushed you? "No."

You try to be firm in your decision, try to make him take you seriously once and for all, but when you see him sniffle and his lips tremble, it’s hard to stay strong.

"Please. Just in case." He shakes under your harsh gaze that softens every time his breath hitches as he tries to hold himself together.

God, this is exactly why he behaves this way, because it always works.

You grab him by the back of the head, kissing his lips roughly, more teeth than anything, biting down on his lower lip in punishment, hard enough to taste blood, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. He clutches onto you desperately, opening his mouth up for you to thrust your tongue inside, making him taste his own blood.

It’s a job to get him off you, but eventually you manage to disentangle yourself from him. “Go home now.”

“Will you come home after work?” He prods, and you run your hand through your hair in frustration. “Is this giving me space?”

“I just–”

“I’ll be home by bedtime. I’ll probably walk around or hang out with friends to decompress.” You explain to him, even though you know you really shouldn’t. He has no right to know where you’re going, not after the shit he just pulled but you know he won’t leave you if you don’t reassure him.

“Which friends? Are you going to–”

“I have to get back to work, Beomgyu.” You cut him off sharply, unwilling to give him more. Truthfully, you don’t even know what you’ll do. You don’t know if you even wanna hang out with your friends. You can’t handle them telling you ‘I told you so’ for the hundredth time and pushing you to break up with Beomgyu. “I know you want me to get fired so I only have time for you but I actually wanna keep this job.”

He winces at your accusation but you don’t wait for him to defend himself, turning your back on him and walking into the coffee shop.

Getting back into work is mortifying as you try to dodge the gazes of others that are at best curious and at worst judgmental and accusatory. Most of all, you try to avoid Taehyun, not knowing what to say to him after he witnessed your boyfriend’s outburst against him.

But it’s hard to hide in such a small shop, and Taehyun is on you just a few minutes after stepping back inside. To your surprise however, he isn’t angry or reproachful. In fact, he doesn’t mention it directly at all.

“Hey you wanna blow off some steam after work?” He asks you, completely casual and you breathe a sigh of relief, nodding. You really could use some stress relief. You know you can’t go home to Beomgyu like this. You’re so mad you’re afraid you’ll do or say something you regret.

What worries you even more is that you think whatever you would do to him, Beomgyu would take it, and you don’t want to be that person. You don’t want to perpetuate this sickness.

________________________________

Taehyun takes you boxing. It’s definitely a bit unusual but when he said it would help you blow off some steam, he wasn’t kidding.

“Hit it harder. Take out all your rage onto it.” Taehyun instructs you, then adds cheekily, “Imagine it’s your boyfriend’s face if you need to.”

You scoff. If Beomgyu was here, he’d definitely lose it with how close Taehyun is to you, his hands fluttering between your waist and shoulder to correct your position, and wrapping around your arms to teach you how to correctly swing.

“Like that?” You ask, punching the bag the way he taught you to. You’re not strong enough to have it swinging like he does, but he still praises you for doing it right.

“Yup, good job. Soon enough you’ll be able to deck Beomgyu in the face.” He jokes and you send him a glare.

“I don’t want to punch Beomgyu.” You say, delivering another hard swing at the punching bag, putting your full weight into it.

“Are you sure about that?” He raises his eyebrows, watching you pummel the bag.

“I’m just frustrated.” You grit, raining punches with both fists until you feel your arms getting sore. “Why does he have to act like such an asshole? He knows I love him. He knows he’s the only one for me. Why is he so insecure? He’s such a fucking idiot. He makes me so goddamn mad!”

You step away from the bag, panting for breath. Clumsily, you push away the sweaty hair out of your face with the gloves still on as you try to calm down your overheated body. “You’re right. This did help.”

You give the bag one last punch before you take off the boxing gloves and slump onto a chair, exhaustion settling into your bones. You hear Taehyun snicker as he takes your place and starts his exercise.

You watch him workout. You admit, he looks good doing it. Dressed in a white sleeveless top, his muscles bulge and tense every time his arms shoot forward to smack the bag. The look of concentration on his face and the way his jaw clenches makes him look all the hotter.

His punches are fast and accurate, and you cringe a bit at the idea of someone being at the receiving end of them, but you still find it attractive. You never got the appeal of the strong, macho man some girls swoon over, always preferring the soft cute types yourself, but watching Taehyun go to town on that punching bag, sweat starting to drip down his glistening skin… you finally get it.

Apparently, your ogling wasn’t as subtle as you thought, especially when Taehyun pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face, revealing his hard abs to your curious eyes.

“Like what you see?” Taehyun smirks, dropping the shirt back down and you blush, looking away. “Bet he doesn’t look like this.”

“Shut up.” You grumble, standing up. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want anything?”

You realize how dry your throat has become and take it as an advantage to get out of this messy situation you’ve gotten yourself in. But Taehyun shakes his head. “You stay put. I’ll go get the drinks.”

You graciously accept the offer, telling him what you’d like to have, and he dips out of the practice room to get you something out of the vending machine and you take the opportunity to cool off.

God, what is wrong with you? Do you like Taehyun? Why the fuck are you thirsting like that over him? Ever since you’ve gotten with Beomgyu, you can honestly say you’ve never wanted to be with another man. Beomgyu just fulfilled all your needs, emotionally and physically. Being with him felt like finally finding your other half, your soul’s resting place. It’s cliche but it truly felt like you were made for each other. How can anyone else compare?

But now that his jealousy and controlling behavior has gotten out of control, you find yourself pulling away from him, the illusion of the perfect one for you slowly shattering by his own hand. Is that why you’re having these weird feelings towards Taehyun? Like Beomgyu, you feel like you’re connected to Taehyun somehow. Despite the relatively short duration you’ve known him, it feels like you’ve known each other for years. You yearn for him in a way you have no control over and you don’t like it. You’re just proving Beomgyu right with his unhinged paranoia.

Seriously, fuck Beomgyu for putting these thoughts into your head. You were completely fine with Taehyun before he made a big deal out of nothing.

When Taehyun comes back, he hands you a can of soda and you gladly pop it open, gulping down the cool liquid with relief.

“So when did you start boxing?” You clear your throat, trying to ignore the way his Adam's apple bops as he swallows.

“Since I was a kid basically.” He shrugs, explaining further at your questioning look. “I didn’t have the best home life and boxing helped me blow off some steam and got me away from it for a bit.”

“Ah.” You hum awkwardly, twirling the can in your hands. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. I’ve left it behind now, trying to make a life of my own. That is why I was so glad that you told me about the job at the cafe. It’s a chill job that allows me to make some money to support myself and still be able to pursue my studies.”

“Right. Music. Didn’t peg you for that guy. I mean, boxing sure but didn’t think you’re the artistic type.” You grin, feeling a bit giddy at his faux offended look.

“Hey, I have a sensitive side too.” He defends, “And I’ve been told I have the voice of an angel.”

“Someone's humble.” You laugh, and he shrugs. “When you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

“Let’s hear it then, angel.”

He gives you a look at that, and you open your mouth to apologize, not sure if you’d crossed a line, but then he coughs, clearing his throat a bit and starts to sing.

I know that sweet love song

The words we said through our oath

If I turn around, eventually

They'll just end up being an unfamiliar someone

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic

I want to run away, far away

My heart is already chasing after you

And burning with small embers

Sorry I'm an anti-romantic

I don't believe anymore in being romantic

As my entire heart burns

I'm afraid that only black ashes will remain

He really does have the voice of an angel, so sweet and soothing. You listen quietly to the whole song, a small smile on your face despite the song’s pessimistic message. But something about his voice tugs at a distant memory in your brain, the feeling like a word on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t quite remember. It’s a disquieting feeling that clashes with the sweet honey of his voice.

You don’t let it show though. You know he wouldn’t understand. And once he’s done singing, you clap enthusiastically.

“Thank you. Thank you.” He graciously accepts the applause, a pleased grin on his face.

“Wonderful. Showstopping. Angelic.” You pour out exaggeratedly and he laughs. “I told you.”

“You did.” You admit, no point teasing him about his cockiness when you like his voice so much. “I never heard that song before. Did you write it yourself?”

“Yup.”

“Now I get how you’re into music if your songs are this dejected.” But you can tease him about the subject matter. You’re impressed with his talent but if you had to come up with a song that Taehyun would compose, it would’ve sounded exactly like this.

“I’m just being a realist.” He tells you and you cock your head to the side, intrigued. “You don’t believe in romance?”

“No. I’ve seen how it goes too many times and it always ends in heartbreak and tears at best.”

You frown, finding it sad that his experiences have made him arrive at this bleak conclusion. “It’s not always like that. Some people have happy relationships.”

“Yeah, do you know of anyone who has an actually happy relationship?”He challenges and you wrack your brain trying to think of one. Your parents? Definitely not. Your sisters? Nope. Your friends? Hah. Still, you refuse to admit it. You’re a hopeless romantic and you refuse to accept his cynical worldview. If love only ever ends in heartbreak then what even is the point of living? “Just because the people I know aren’t the poster children for happy relationships doesn’t mean there are none.”

“Are you even happy with Beomgyu?” He prods, catching you off guard.

You were. Things were perfect between you. He was the best boyfriend you could have ever wished for at the beginning. He was so sweet and loving and gentle, being with him felt like coming home, but slowly things started to unravel until it got to the point you’re at right now and you’re too scared to admit that things may never go back to the way they were before. If Beomgyu isn’t the one for you then who is?

“Shut up and sing more.” You grumble, not wanting to think about it anymore.

Taehyun grins, not pushing anymore, satisfied with his win, and obliges you. He sings a couple more songs for you, each of his own making, and you eagerly listen to him, closing your eyes and getting lost in the warmth of his voice, asking for more every time he finishes.

He doesn’t complain, performing a mini-concert for you, helping soothe your nerves as you try to focus on his soothing voice and forget about the troubles you’ve been going through with Beomgyu and your confusing feelings for Taehyung.

But all the tension ricochets back into your body when he gets to the fourth song, the small smile you were wearing plummets into a frown and you sit up from your slumped position suddenly. You don’t know what it is about this song. It appears to be a simple lullaby, but just hearing it makes your heart hammer in your chest.

Taehyun notices quickly and stops singing. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you make up that song too?” You ask and he shakes his head. “No, it’s a song my mum used to sing me when I was a kid. Why?”

“I don’t know, something about it seems familiar.” You trail off, eyebrows furrowing as you try to recall where you heard it before.

“I doubt it. My mum made it up.” He says, confused by your sudden change in mood.

You’re confused too. You don’t understand. You just have this intense feeling of deja vu right now, something you’ve been feeling increasingly more frequently lately. Maybe you heard it in a dream?

You shake your head, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and needing comfort, needing Beomgyu… “Never mind. I should probably get going.”

You’re mad at him but he’s still the biggest source of comfort for you. He has a way to calm you down even if he’s the one who caused your anxiety. It all works out when it’s just the two of you. It’s only when other people get involved that everything falls apart…

“Already?” Taehyun asks, disappointed, and you look at the clock that says 10:46 pm and sigh. “Yeah. Beomgyu is probably freaking out by now. Even more than he already was.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go back to him then. You need some proper time away to think things through. You can’t let him keep getting away with this behavior.” He advises, his expression betraying his clear distaste for Beomgyu. Great, another friend who despises your boyfriend. You can’t deal with this right now.

“He’s just insecure.” You find yourself defending him once again, feeling weary and covering your face with your hands. “I don't know why. it's not like every guy that ever meets me will fall in love with me. You don't even like me.”

"I do like you." Taehyun says simply and you snap your head up and gape at him. "What?"

He shrugs as if this doesn’t fuck everything up even more. "I like you and I think you deserve better than your shitty boyfriend."

You shake your head, standing up, feeling angry at yourself. Of course, he likes you. Beomgyu smelled it from a mile away. Why else would he be so nice to you? Why else would he care so much to hang out with you and calm you down when he’s probably tired from his shift? This was obviously a mistake and you’re a stupid girl who is playing into it while your boyfriend is probably breaking down at home. "Beomgyu is a good boyfriend. He loves me."

Taehyun stands up too, getting a bit forceful now. “You’re deluding yourself. What he’s doing isn’t healthy, and he’ll only continue to get worse because you let him.”

What does he know? How do you know he’s not just trying to break you up with your boyfriend so he could get with you? Beomgyu probably could tell that Taehyun liked you from the start and that’s why he was so averse to you being around him. Obviously that doesn’t excuse how out of pocket he acted today but he still wasn’t completely wrong.

“I should go.” You mutter, quickly gathering your things.

“Let me take you home then.” He offers and you snort. Yeah right, like that wouldn’t make Beomgyu’s brain melt.

“I'll just take an uber.”

Taehyun attempts to argue but you shut him down.

_____________________________

Beomgyu is waiting near the door when you get back, curled up onto himself as he rocks back and forth, looking like a broken mess, and your heart can’t help but clench painfully at the miserable sight of him despite everything he’s done. You can’t bear to see him hurt, especially knowing that Taehyun liked you after all and he wasn’t being totally paranoid.

"You're back!" He stops rocking and untangles his arms from his body. You see the tension in his body, like he wants to spring forward and take you in his arms but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to. "I thought I lost you."

"I'm right here." You sigh, opening your arms up, giving him the signal he needed to stand up and engulf you in his arms.

“I’m sorry, baby–” He begins his long plea. You’ve heard it many times by now–he’s sorry he acted irrationally, he’s sorry he gets jealous and out of control, he promises he’ll do better– but you’re honestly not in the mood for it right now. You just want to pretend none of this happened tonight, least of all because you feel some kind of guilt over hanging out alone with Taehyun and letting him touch you when he secretly had feelings for you just like Beomgyu was afraid of.

“Shut up, Beomgyu.” You grab his face and kiss him.

He lets you do it. Beomgyu would never reject a kiss from you, but once your bruising kiss leaves his lips and travels to his jaw, he voices his concern. “Are you sure, princess? Don’t you wanna t-talk about it?”

Princess? He’s bringing out the big guns. There is no use arguing with Beomgyu right now. You already know what he’s going to say so you bite down on his neck, making his breath hitch as your hands trail up his waist towards his nipples, rubbing them with your thumbs over the thin material of his shirt and making him gasp. “Just shut up and be good for once, Beomgyu. Need you to fuck me so hard I can’t even think about how mad I am at you right now.”

You feel him gulp under your lips, and the next thing you know he is carrying you by your ass and dropping you onto the couch. He quickly takes off every shred of fabric on your body, following suit, before he gets on the ground in front of you and buries his face in your pussy.

Beomgyu is a very talented lover, especially with his tongue. He knows exactly what to do to get you going, and right now is no different. He eats you out as if he can convince you to stay just by using his mouth, and you have to admit, it is very persuasive.

“Fuck, Gyu. Good boy.” You praise, encouraging him to do more, your hand in his hair guiding his mouth to where you want him. He eagerly lets you control him, pushing his tongue into your pussy while his lips pucker and suck around your hole.

You feel yourself clench around his tongue, more of your arousal leaking around it until it covers his chin and parts of his cheeks. You pull his head up, whining as his tongue slips out of your pussy, but he quickly relieves the feeling of emptiness by pushing his fingers inside you, curling them up to hit that sensitive spot inside you that has you keening.

He wasn’t going to be slow tonight, and you don’t want that. You cry as his mouth finds a new target in your clit, alternating between sucking it in his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, all while his fingers plunge in and out of you until you’re creaming on his face.

“That’s it! Fuck, that’s it, baby.” You throw your head back, eyes squeezing shut as your body shudders at the intense orgasm. Fuck, you needed this.

Beomgyu doesn’t care about how hard you’ve got his hair fisted up in your hand. He keeps hungrily licking your pussy, not letting your arousal completely fade even as your orgasm passes.

“Baby, wait, give me a second–” You gasp, feeling sensitive, and when Beomgyu pulls away you think he’ll give you break, but instead he pushes you down until you’re laying on your back on the couch and gets on top of you, lining his cock with your entrance

“Wait–Beomgyu!” You cry as he shoves his cock inside of you, beginning to fuck you right away, not giving you a moment to breathe or calm down.

“There you go, princess. Is this what you wanted?” He pants, hips slamming against yours as he fucks you roughly.

It was what you wanted but you’re not sure now. You need a moment. “Baby, slow down…” You whine, your eyes squeezed tightly which Beomgyu doesn’t like.

“Slow down? But I thought you wanted me to fuck you until you can’t think about how mad you are at me.” He taunts, slamming his hips against yours, his cock going so deep inside you you feel like you’re going to choke. Normally, you’d fucking love it but it’s suddenly too much for you.

You shake your head, holding tightly onto his upper arms. “Please, baby, just slow down!”

But Beomgyu only fucks you harder. “Open your eyes, princess. Look at me while I’m fucking you.”

“Beomgyu–” You beg but he seems too far gone, not realizing that you’re being serious. You feel a harsh smack against your thigh and he growls down at you. “Open your eyes.”

You do, hardly seeing him with the tears in your eyes, but what you see scares you. “Gyu–”

“Am I fucking you hard enough? Or does my princess need me to fuck her dumb until she sees only me?”

No, no. This is exactly what you asked for, but somehow it doesn’t feel good. The wildness of Beomgyu’s eyes, the roughness of his hands, don’t assure you of his need and devotion to you as always. Instead, they speak of a need to own, a desire to subjugate you or tear you apart. It fucking terrifies you.

And suddenly, intrusive images come to mind. Images of bound limbs and golden suits, tears and anger. Images of Beomgyu forcing himself on you as you lie helpless and beg him to stop.

“Beomgyu!” You cry out, shocked at what your mind is conjuring up. It’s not real but it feels real. You feel violated and scared and you just want it to stop. "Stop. Stop!"

“No. Don’t be a brat. You can take it.” Beomgyu chastises, still lost in his own head, the pleasure clouding his mind and not letting him see your pathetic state.

“No. I can’t. Please. ” You sniffle, shaking your head weakly.

“Don’t cry. You’ve made me wait so long for this pussy.” Prince Beomgyu drives his dick into you harder, making sure you’re fully deflowered. "Take it. You were made for me. You can take it."

The images of prince Beomgyu looming over you just like he is right now, being so relentless and cruel as he takes what he wants from you are all you can see in front of you. It’s not a dream anymore. You’re wide awake, so why can you see them as if they were your own memories? God are you going crazy?

“Beomgyu?” You croak, trying to reach him through the images and his crazed headspace.

“I swear if you don’t shut the fuck up, I won’t bother being gentle.”

You quickly clamp your mouth shut at the ghostly threat, stopping any noise from getting out, stopping even your breathing, and that finally alerts Beomgyu to what is going on.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He stops moving and reaches out to touch you but you flinch.

“Don’t touch me.” You cry, the damn breaking down and allowing tears to stream down your face.

“What happened? Oh god. I didn’t know you were serious.” Beomgyu’s face goes pale and he looks like he’s going to be sick. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Get off me. Get off me.” You wail, pushing him away. He pulls out of you but doesn’t get off, wrapping you in his arms and trying to get you to calm down.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s just me. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear. You’re okay. You’re okay. I love you.” He coos, trying to sound reassuring but you can hear the panic and fear in his voice as he cradles you and rocks you back at forth, not paying any mind to you clawing at his back as you try to break free, letting you sob and cry until you tire yourself out and slowly, slowly down.

“I’m right here, princess. You’re safe with me. I’ll never leave.”

His words of reassurance fail to have the effect he desires. Instead of soothing you, you find them suffocating and inescapable. You feel like you’ve been here many times before, each time adding to the heaviness of that oppressive weight pushing down on you until you don’t have the strength to fight it anymore. You just fall limp in his arms, and he finally pulls back to look at you.

He brushes your hair out of your face and swipes away the drying tears. “I’m sorry I hurt you, baby. I didn’t mean to.”

"I’m sorry. I just…” Prince Beomgyu struggles to find the words for a second. “I had to do what I had to do to keep you.”

You shiver, looking away from him.

"What is it? What’s happening? What are you thinking?" He asks worriedly, wanting to get into your brain to figure out what caused your sudden breakdown, needing to know so he can convince you it’s nothing like he always does.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumble, monotone. You’re fucking exhausted and traumatized. You feel like you’ve been violated. You just want to go to sleep and not wake up.

“Baby, please, just talk to me. I can fix it.”

You glare at him. “Fix it? As if you’ve ever taken my concerns seriously. You’d just tell me it’s all in my head and–” You shut yourself up. You don’t want to talk to him about this. It hurts enough when he dismisses your dreams normally. It would fucking kill you if he made light of what you just experienced, even if it was all in your head.

Surprisingly, in a move totally unlike him, Beomgyu relents. “I take you seriously. You don’t even know.” He says, head bowed sadly. “It’s you who doesn’t.”

What does that even mean? Is he talking about his jealousy over Taehyun? Yes, you admit he may have been right about that but there are many other things he was wrong about. But you don’t have the energy to get into it right now.

“Take me to bed.”

“Yes, princess.” He sighs, head bowed as he carries you in his arms and takes you to bed, putting you under the sheets and climbing in next to you.

“I never want to hurt you.” He murmurs, taking you in his arms and kissing the top of your head. You shiver at his choice of words.

Never wants to hurt you. Not is never going to hurt you.

__________________________

A/N: lol I was supposed to do this early release on patreon but here is a surprise. as always i really appreciate any feedback. whenever I am going through hard times I keep reverting back to missing yamqn gyu and wishing for him to comfort him despite how objectively terrible he is :'D

once again

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #tomorrow x together smut #fem!reader

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manicpixiefelix · 3 months

Text

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

2/2: think about me while you do it [SMUT]

{ masterpost : 2/2 }

Summary: In which Oliver puts you in your place, and makes you beg to be there.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, dehumanising language and overall incredibly degrading talk, BDSM, leashes, dacryphilia(crying), reader being treated like a dog, bondage & restraints, creampie, so much begging, sir kink, oliver having the time of his life as a manipulative dom, pet name used for the reader "princess" and being referred to as "good girl"

A/N: 7434 words. never ever as long as i live will i ever write this pairing (farleigh/brat!reader/oliver) again, and not only can you quote me on that, but you can take it to the fucking bank. that being said, i did genuinely LOVE writing this, i think they're dynamic is so incredibly fun to explore, and honestly there's something hot about the mind games they all play on each other. it's just that it takes FUCKING FOREVER for them to do anything because they all hate each other. well, you and farleigh hate oliver and he hates both of you, but you also like to cause problems on purpose which pisses them both off. i love it. i never want to write them again. 10/10 LETS GET WEIRD WITH IT i would love to know what you guys think about this all :) oh also we definitely get heavy on the farleigh/oliver in this as well

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Farleigh has always had these long, delicate fingers that Oliver's been fascinated by since they'd met, since he'd grabbed his thigh - so achingly briefly - in their tutor's office and levelled a grin that surely read as apologetic to the professor for running late, but turned so immediately dismissive the minute his gaze flicked to Oliver himself. For so long as Oliver wormed his way into Felix's life, into his circle of friends, that's all Farleigh had been; dismissive looks and long, enticing fingers poised with cigarettes and disdain like he was a model for Marlboro.

But the coldness in Farleigh's eyes turned warmer, especially over the Summer at Saltburn, and Oliver couldn't deny the heat of his frustration didn't have some kind of want pitting in his stomach. Anger and lust have never truly been strangers, at least not if he was judging by the way Farleigh had been looking at him tonight.

Now, Farleigh was looking at you with that heat in his eyes, looking at your parted lips and breathless smile like he wanted to devour you whole after so readily giving in to Oliver's degradation. Then he's watching the gentle way Oliver caresses your face in the moments that follow, and that heat too turns degrading.

"You really have no self respect," he scoffs; the mood shifts sharply to the left. There's that look in your eyes again like you're on the verge of causing more trouble.

"He said I had no manners!" You protested as Farleigh moved back from you, "my etiquette teacher would be rolling in her grave if she heard that!"

"Etiquette teachers aren't a real thing, are they?" Oliver, genuinely baffled enough to be pulled out of his earlier mood, automatically shuffles back as Farleigh gently pushes you over. You land on your stomach with a humph, hands still trapped at the small of your back, though now Oliver can see the skilled, tight way his belt was binding them. It conjures up images of expensive leather contraptions, restraints, and you on display, desperate for a hungry-eyed academic like Farleigh who'd actually put in the work to study how to best tame a beast like you.

"Do you think she ever stops to think why we call her a princess?" Farleigh scoffs in a brief moment of solidarity as he reclines on the bed. Oliver actually, genuinely laughs at that, much to your chagrin, at least until Farleigh's hand, those beautiful fingers, pushing down the waistband of his own boxers to finally give his cock some sorely needed attention. "Don't think your manners are the most scandalous thing you've been a part of tonight," he adds, turning his head to you with a deliciously sly smile, "your etiquette teacher know you beg like that?"

Oliver had caught sight of the way you were pouting, legs kicking ineffectually against the end of the bed considering how you were trapped in your position, like a little worm. You turned your head to face Farleigh with that same sulky expression, like all three of you didn't know exactly what he was talking about.

"My arms hurt," is all the response you give.

"Good," Oliver hadn't meant to say that out loud, nor had he entirely realised how fucking pleased he'd sounded as he'd said it, but it had seemingly escaped him nonetheless. His focus had been caught on the lazy rhythm Farleigh had been using to keep himself hard, but he still found himself enjoying the sound of your complaints, it seemed.

And your reactions to him; the way your fingers curled, the shiver he could see run down the length of your spine, and how quickly you had to press your face into the mattress, most likely embarrassed by whatever Farleigh would have seen in your expression. It seemed Farleigh himself wasn't even immune, cock momentarily twitching in his hand before Oliver realised how long he'd been staring, and that Farleigh's bright yet smug expression had meant he'd definitely noticed.

"You are taking to this remarkably fast," Farleigh sounds almost pleased, almost proud. You tell him to shut the fuck up, face still pressed against the duvet, but can't kick anyone from this angle, much to his ongoing amusement.

Surfacing, but still rather flustered, you announce sharply that you're not touching either of them until you can use your hands again. Oliver remarks that that's the point, and there's a part of him that's far too pleased about how it makes Farleigh laugh too. Of course this sets you off - he should have known - but it's easy enough for Oliver, sitting on his knees beside you on the bed, to keep you from sitting up too far once you've managed to roll over onto your back.

He knows he's different in this light, leaning over you, everything awash with the blue and silver of the night. For just a moment, it's as if you know you're helpless, his hand flat and warm on your chest, on your sternum, and you can see it in his eyes that he thinks you're helpless beneath him too. The chain around his neck hangs like the sword of Damocles above your own throat, and with the blue, searching, hungry eyes of a man who remembers every last cruel remark you'd tossed at him in the past week.

"Can I at least get some water?" You break the moment, and Oliver almost has to laugh, "it's not funny, I'm thirsty and for some reason," you pointedly rolled your eyes, words dripping with sarcasm, attempting to regain some of the composure you liked to carry yourself with, "I can't move my arms."

"Of course, your highness," Oliver briefly acquiesces, lips twitching into a smile as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom, hoping their was some kind of cup in their. Re-joining the room, he finds Farleigh to be amused, and you to still be on your back, annoyed -

"- not kidding, I'm not doing anything with either of you if you don't take this belt off of my damn hands," you were still insisting. Farleigh just grinned.

"Yeah, Miss Green-Light-Princess, we'll see about that."

Considering how your expression scrunched up to something almost flustered, and you didn't have any kind of comeback, it was safe to say you were still on board, just as Farleigh was delighted to call you out on it. Oliver reintegrates himself, sits himself on the edge of the bed and wears a little smile even as you call him your hero with more bitter sarcasm than he's ever heard from anyone in his life.

"Sit up," so gentle, so opposite of the ways he's been speaking to you just before he'd left; Farleigh is regarding him curiously, but you just roll your eyes. Now that Oliver knew inside and out - pun entirely intended - you were deliciously predictable. Easy to lull into a false sense of superiority.

"I can't."

"Roll over," the sweetness is quickly disappearing. For a brief moment, Farleigh's gaze meet's Oliver's, and he knows exactly what Oliver's doing, even if you haven't clued in. There's a spark of devilish glee that they share in this moment, but Oliver can't let it show on his face.

"What?"

"Roll over, I'll help," Oliver's smile doesn't reach his eyes, but you dubiously agree. Perhaps you think he'll undo the restraints around your wrists. Of course he won't, you should know better than that.

With you obediently on your stomach, Oliver puts the water on the nightstand. One hand goes to your shoulder, the other holds your shoulder.

"Now princess," he murmurs low in your ear, tone oozing condescension, "sit," like ordering a dog when he pulls you upright; you don't even fully notice at first, the pressure from the angle that he pulls your arms makes them ache once more, but then you're sitting up on your knees, and Oliver's lips are inches from yours, leaning into your space with intent, "stay," and you go quiet.

There is fury when he looks in your eyes; your jaw twitches as you bite down on a hundred different retorts. There's something intoxicating about you, the way everything you do in these moments is a war between your cruel nature and your hedonistic desires. You want to kick him, you want him to spit in your mouth, you want to ruin him, you want him to ruin you. All of it is written in your eyes.

You have spent all week treating Oliver Quick like nothing more than a dog; you hate that it turns you on when he returns the favour.

Farleigh is eating this interaction up, watching like a hunter who lay in wait for his prey, content with how Oliver so skilfully toyed with you -

"There's a leash in the bottom draw of the night stand -"

"Farleigh Start, I'm going to kill you with my bare hands when I get them back," you hissed, but Farleigh's comment had piqued Oliver's curiosity. Before you could even look back to give Farleigh a withering glare, Oliver's hand found your throat. Thumb and fingers against your delicate pulse points, not yet cutting off the blood flow, but right where they needed to be.

Ironically it's Farleigh's voice in the back of his mind, a night out at the pub where it had just been mostly guys, and somehow the topic of their sex lives came up. It had been Farleigh who had rolled his eyes and explained - it's here, idiot - reaching over to demonstrate on Felix himself - it's cutting off the blood flow that makes their head spin, not actually choking them to death. Gorgeous fingers momentarily placed on his cousin's throat, Oliver had memorised the placement. Considering what he now knew of Farleigh's relationship with you, he didn't need to guess why he was so sure back in the pub.

"Didn't say speak."

"I'd kick you if I could," your lip curled, even as his grip on your throat tightened. That fire in your eyes was betrayed by the way your heartbeat practically danced beneath his fingertips, "give me my water, I wasn't kidding about that."

There's a long, tense moment where Oliver deliberates. Then, very slowly, he lets you go, and turns, reaching over to the night stand. Out of the corner of his eye there's a very sudden flurry of movement, and of Farleigh moving unexpectedly fast. The water actually shakes with it, spills and splashes several drops onto his thighs, cold in the humid room, before he turns to see the tableaux of attempted rebellion. Farleigh looks still amused, but rather exasperated, like he expected as much, expected to have his hand in your mouth, your teeth in his palm, other hand digging nails into your shoulder as he attempted to hold you back.

"It's like you forgot, Ollie," Farleigh says with a mean little smile, "my dog's the kind that bites," still he plays along, the words coming out lazily despite how he seems to actually have to work to pull his hand from your mouth. Your anger at being thwarted seemed to simmer just beneath your skin; this smile you now wear is laced with malice that hadn't been there before.

"Just having some fun," you practically spat, with both of Farleigh's hands now on your shoulders, holding you in place. This malevolence is it's own kind of fun; your desire to hurt, to wound, to sink your teeth in like a cornered animal betrays you to Oliver. Your pride is starting to win over your desire; your capacity for cruelty is overcoming your desire to be put in your place. Perhaps it was getting to real, perhaps you remembered how much better you supposed you were than Oliver himself. This is exactly how he wants you.

Princess. Collared.

Taking a deep, deliberate breath, Oliver levels a flat, unimpressed look at you. Both you and Farleigh are waiting, watching, letting him lead in this moment, and he does. Water in one hand, he carefully reaches down to the bottom drawer of the nightstand - when you move, the bed moves with you, but Farleigh's grip on you never yields, never lets you lunge at Oliver the way you keep trying. The collar is sleep and simple, padded on the inside, with a leash to match. It even has a little bell, and an engraved tag.

Bitch.

Oliver chuckles a laugh as he reads it, he can't help himself.

"Farleigh thinks he's very funny," you roll your eyes, knowing exactly what Oliver had found so amusing. Farleigh does look particularly pleased with himself over your shoulder.

"It was true when I got it engraved and it's still true now."

But Oliver's moving on again, asking Farleigh to hold the glass of water for him as he fiddles with the collar. He is quiet, intense, arms around your neck as he takes his time doing up the collar; his face is so close to yours, sharing your furious, shaking breathes.

"How is our princess feeling?" Oliver takes the moment to check in, genuine, though it seems to irritate you further, "green light?"

"Do not flatter yourself into thinking I am yet speechless," you spit, "if I truly thought you offered me nothing, and wanted nothing more from you, I am more than capable of making that abundantly clear." You were endlessly fascinating to Oliver; you wanted to maim him, but you wanted him nonetheless. He tightens the collar around your neck. Farleigh still has one hand on your shoulder; his thumb comes to press against the edge of the collar, against your skin meeting the leather as he makes a pleased hum. "Green fucking light, scholarship boy," you give a mocking little smile to Oliver, the bitterness never leaving your eyes.

"Good -" the moment Oliver has latched the collar, has the leash curled at the back of your neck around his fist, you strain forward against it. The bell rings with the movement, a delicate sound for an indelicate moment -

"But I am warning you," forehead pressed against Oliver's, you're straining for any inch, any millimetre more you could get from his unyielding grip on your leash, you practically snarl against his lips with venomous hatred, "about what you will get when you treat me like a dog." Yet Oliver makes sure to remain impassive, perhaps even a little amused, in the face of your threats.

"If I can't make you bark like a good girl, princess," Oliver murmurs, catching your lips in a kiss even as you try to bite him, pulling back with a cold smile, "then I'm going to make you beg."

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Farleigh's voice purrs in your ear, and some of the viciousness about you eases. You sit back, back out of Oliver's space, and watch as Farleigh hands the water back to Oliver's waiting hands, trading him for the leash.

"For you," there's contempt in your eyes as you watch Oliver while addressing Farleigh, "I'll think about it."

Oliver's gaze meet's Farleigh's as he presses his laughter to your shoulder; something in his eyes almost says, well, good luck, I tried. Like Oliver isn't revelling in this chance you've laid before him; like he doesn't know how quickly your body betrays you at every single opportunity.

"If you want some water, you have to ask nicely," Oliver offers. A pause follows, and he watches you change tact.

You relax, letting the fight leave you, pressing yourself back against Farleigh as much as you could. Feeling his face so close to yours you turn, practically nuzzling against him.

"Even if I'm nice, he's going to be mean about it," your voice comes out so sweetly, so transparently manipulatively, "I just want a drink of water, you wouldn't make me beg for a drink of water, Farleigh," you insist, voice plaintive, all doe-eyed and pouting and not looking at Oliver.

"I can and I have and you didn't complain this much," Farleigh saw fit to remind you, giving a wide, mean smile. Your lip began to quiver.

"You're not even fucking me and I'm going to cry," you tried whimpering.

"Funny how none of those sound like any of those safe words," Oliver points out. Your lip stops quivering, in fact, you glare at him out of the corner of your eye as you pout, still trying to be soft and gentle with Farleigh.

"That's because they're not," Farleigh says far too knowingly, far too smugly, muttering into your ear once more, though loud enough for Oliver to clearly hear how sharp and praising it is, "and aren't you pretty when you cry."

"Can't cry if I'm dehydrated," you huff, and finally Farleigh, with a roll of his eyes, gives in with a sigh.

"Give her the water."

You immediately perk up, looking far too pleased to be getting your way, and lean forward expectantly. Oliver will give you this - and only this - before he drags every bit of satisfaction out of you that he wants. So he is careful, doesn't let the water spill, lets you breathe between mouthfuls when you indicate.

"All of it; it's good for you," still he tells you, tone like a teacher, cup insistent at your lips.

"Yes sir," you managed sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you drank more of the water, but something snapped, rewired in Oliver's brain. Farleigh could see it too.

"Oh he liked that," he commented, eyes alight with intrigue, and you frowned as you indicated for Oliver to lower the cup.

"I'm not saying it again."

"The optimism you have about what you will and won't do tonight is adorable," Farleigh tells you, planting a teasing kiss on your cheek, while you tell him to piss off.

"Give me the last of my water, you fuck," you finally manage, and Farleigh finally feels like he can lay himself back down, cackling at your audacity in the face of everything that had just happened. He also drops the leash, at least confident in either Oliver, or his own reflexes, for the time being, "do you want me to drink it all or not? Pick a lane."

Oliver, glass in one hand, reaches between your legs with the other. Immediately, you close your eyes, breath catching, knowing exactly what he was playing at.

"Is that how you think you're going to get fucked tonight?" No response; Oliver's thumb begins moving on your clit, pressing insistent circles as your breathing grows deeper, "are you going to be a good girl?"

"I'm not going to bark for you," you manage through gritted teeth, though after a moment, you half stutter out a moan, "please can you let me finish my water?" Two fingers slide teasingly down your slit, "please, Oliver -" you swallow hard, eyes opening to meet his; he can see this almost pains you, "please Oliver Quick, can I have the last of my water?" Those two fingers inside of you, curling, teasing, pulling a groan from you, eyes fluttering closed, and your voice barely above a whisper, "may I finish my water, sir?"

Oh yes, he did like hearing that from you.

"Of course," Oliver sits back, pleased, licking his fingers clean like a pleased cat while assisting you with finishing off the glass of water. You can't meet his gaze, already embarrassed by how quickly you'd given in. He watches your tongue dart out across your lips, collecting the few drops that had strayed, clinging to the edges of your lips. Beautiful mouth, he's sure he can put it to good use.

"All better, princess?" Farleigh snarks from behind you. Oliver thinks he can see you bite back on a harsh retort, and once again watches you change tact. Shifting away from him, half turning so you were now perpendicular to Farleigh and able to properly look at him, you wriggled your legs out from under you, perhaps a little more comfortable to your side, like a Victorian woman on a fainting sofa, it's an unassumingly sweet pose for the situation. Though it clearly matched the energy you were trying to give off.

"Yes, Farleigh, thank you, Farleigh," without even sparing Oliver a single glance. For a long moment, Farleigh's gaze slides from your innocent act to Oliver, looking unamused and still holding the empty glass. A strange moment of understanding passes between them the minute Farleigh sees Oliver's gaze snap to the leash down your back. So he sits, leans in close to you, and takes your face in one hand. It's clear you're leaning in to this perceived moment of tenderness, but Farleigh stops, a breath from your lips.

"You fucking bit my hand," his voice ice cold, you see there's no humour in his eyes as you pull back and try to stammer out something, anything, genuinely caught off guard, "so thanks won't cut it, princess; you can start with an apology."

"I -" you begin to frown, but then the bed dips behind you, and Oliver's cool hand is grasping at the leash, pulling gently.

"Didn't say speak," he warned, and didn't even give you a moment to butt in before continuing, "show Farleigh you're sorry."

Farleigh, clearly delighted by this turn of events, sits himself up, shuffling back to lean comfortably against the headboard. This confidence becomes him, legs spread in invitation, generous cock resting hard and wanting against the smooth plane of his stomach. For several long moments, Oliver watches Farleigh lazily stroke himself, simply watching you and Oliver through a smug, half-lidded gaze.

"You should see yourselves," the teasing barely hides how his voice is dripping with want. Unsurprisingly, you try to play it off, becoming flustered at the implication of you staring, of how much you knew you wanted him. But Oliver meets Farleigh's gaze, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Farleigh's smile widens.

"Aren't you lucky?" Oliver murmurs into your ear, grip on your leash tight as he keeps his eyes locked with Farleigh's. Though you've gone quiet, Oliver's unsatisfied with your lack of proper response, and gives a pointed yank on your collar.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I'm lucky," you sighed faintly, "sir." Farleigh snorts a laugh, and Oliver grins, shuffling himself to sit on Farleigh's other side, by his hip, and looks expectantly at you before giving your leash a tug. At least you seem to be getting into this, considering you actually perk up, scrambling as best you could to sit yourself between Farleigh's legs.

There's something about the gleeful little grin that you give Farleigh in this moment that give away how much genuine joy and anticipation you have to have your mouth on his cock. He too seems at home in this moment, settling back against the headboard with his hands behind his head. It's almost cute, your eagerness, the way you lean down in anticipation before.

"Can I have my hands back now?"

Farleigh goes to sit up, goes to say something, as if he'd realised you'd probably need your hands for the act, but Oliver cuts him off before he can.

"No." And it's too firm for him to argue with. When you look at Oliver this time, there's something there that wasn't before. A moment of genuine doubt, a moment of genuine submission.

"Sir, I think I need my hands for this," instead of argumentative, it's almost pleading. This is the moment he knows he's starting to win. Oliver tips his head to the side, as if regarding you curiously.

"Do you?" He can see the doubt in your eyes grow; it's driving him mad the way he's holding himself back, but good things take time.

"I think so," you don't sound sure.

Oliver moves slowly, deliberately, and makes sure you're following his movements. Farleigh's cock twitches in Oliver's cool hand, but all Farleigh does is let out a low, pleased hum. He starts simply, thumb gliding over his slit, collecting the precum that had been beading there, hand then moving up and down in even strokes. For a moment, he chances a glance at Farleigh, only to see his head lolling back against the bedframe, pleased smile on his lips.

When an actual whimper escapes you, and Oliver feels you tug on your leash in his other hand, he remembers his task at hand. There's lust in your eyes as you wriggle, thigh clenching and rubbing together at the sight of Oliver working Farleigh's cock. This might be far easier than he thought.

"You want this?" Just like a pet owner with their clearly eager dog, Oliver teases you.

"Yes," your practically bark, breathless and eager and embarrassingly fast. It actually seems to catch both Oliver and Farleigh off guard, Farleigh's cock clearly reacting positively in Oliver's hand to your obvious desire, and Oliver giving Farleigh a genuinely impressed look.

"Never seen someone so eager to get their mouth around a cock before; you must've done something special to her."

"Do you want me to teach you or do you want me to show you?" Farleigh's eyes shine as brightly as his smile in the silver-blue glow of the night. Oliver's mouth goes dry at the thought, his own cock aching at the mere thought of what it would be like to look up at Farleigh with his smug approval - knew you could be boy for me, Oliver - and he wants to hate the idea, but he can't. But he doesn't get the chance to respond -

"No, mine," slips from you like a whine, unexpectedly possessive. It brings both boys' attention back on you, however, and you seem to realise your slip up. Mouth opening and closing, you can't even seem to find the words to defend yourself; at least you've learned to shut up.

"Careful princess," Farleigh says surprisingly coldly, slipping back into dominance with practiced ease, "you're lucky, remember?"

"I'm lucky," you nod emphatically, but you're straining against your leash, wetting your lips.

"Good girls get treats," he yanks your collar back to remind you who still holds your leash, "this a treat for you, princess?"

"I do genuinely enjoy it," you admit honestly, seeming a little flustered to be saying as much, looking to Oliver with a sheepish smile, "not with anyone else though," it's actually a very sweet moment.

"Really?" Farleigh seems genuinely flattered, wide, bashful smile on his face as he sits forward a little.

"You seriously don't understand how hot the noises you make are," you laughed a little self consciously, "I came completely untouched once just from going down on you."

"Are we here to stroke Farleigh's ego or his cock?" Oliver rolled his eyes, already tired of this, but Farleigh sat back obliging, while you tried to bend down, but very much couldn't.

"Pick a lane, Oliver," you groaned, before quickly amending, apologetically, "sir." Farleigh snickered. Oliver's gaze grew cold.

"Beg for it."

He pushes his hand between your shoulder blades, forcing you to double over and bend down, but then kept his grip on your leash tight as he held the shiny, plump head of Farleigh's cock just inches from your lips.

"Please," already you were back to playing along, mouth open, breathing heavy, whimpering as you hear an impatient moan from Farleigh himself, "please, sir please -"

"Please what?"

Mouth hanging open, panting like a desperate whore, you beg for Farleigh's cock in your mouth, your throat, to be facefucked and used, whatever - you felt like you were going insane from the suspense. All the words come spilling out from you, begging and dripping with need that Oliver almost gives in right there.

Oliver's hand has been skilfully fisted around Farleigh's cock this entire time, keeping him hard and ready and in the perfect spot to drive you made, just out of your reach. He'd half forgotten he was even doing it, getting him all worked up, leaking, slick, fingers shiny and sticky with Farleigh -

"Oliver -" Farleigh chokes out in a kind of warning tone, as if to tell him to stop playing around one way or the other.

"You think you deserve this?" Oliver finally lets Farleigh's cock go, and you actually whimper. Oliver wipes his hand off messily against your mouth, once more demanding to know if you think you deserve this. You're begging, please tumbling from your lips even as Oliver presses two fingers into your greedy mouth.

"Please, sir," muffled so much that it's almost indistinguishable as your thorough tongue laps at Oliver's fingers, "please, I need him," and the desperate tears are welling in your eyes as he keeps his fingers in your mouth but pushes you back up onto your knees.

"Will you sit for me if I give you what you want?" He pulls his fingers slowly from your mouth. You nod, heartbeat alive when he wraps a firm hand around your throat, "will you stay for me if I give you what you want?" Another nod, lip trembling and breathing so desperately hard. He applies more pressure.

"Anything," you gasp, hips moving again, insistent, desperate for friction; he'd see to that soon, "speak, shake," you wet your lips, "roll over."

Oliver glances over his shoulder to where Farleigh is watching with rapt attention. Good.

"Good dog," Farleigh mumbles, desperately working his own hand up and down his shaft.

Oliver lets go of the leash carefully, and your eyes snap back to him. Just as you promised, you sit, you stay, a good dog, watching him move closer to Farleigh with intent. He hears your breath catch the moment he takes Farleigh's cock in hand, and the desperate chanting of 'pleasepleaseplease' as he lowers himself down. For a moment, he looks to Farleigh, a silent question of permission, but considering he too can hear how desperate and needy you're behaving at the mere sight of this, he realises, at least in part, what Oliver's doing and seems entirely on board.

You were right, Farleigh moans and whimpers like a whore with a mouth on his cock. A wanton melody made all the sweeter for your begging having turned simply to needy noises. What Oliver can't fit of Farleigh in his mouth he continues to jerk off, momentarily slipping down to gently squeeze Farleigh's balls, earning him the most beautiful series of swears Oliver's ever heard. Tongue always moving, caressing, often lapping at Farleigh's slit and the sweet, salty slickness, Oliver works hard to make him feel good - which he knows he's more than capable of, despite his demeanour he's nothing near a virgin in any realm - without getting him to close. He'd still leave that for you.

For a moment he glances up at Farleigh, and the bitterness in his eyes at the edge of the obvious lust, like he resents Oliver for being so good at this, makes it all worth it.

I got you here, Farleigh, Oliver thinks with bitter triumph, everything else is sloppy fucking seconds.

When he pulls away, he makes sure there's a distinctive, lewd slurp before he takes a deep breath.

Looking to you, the fight is back in your eyes, but it doesn't fucking matter; Oliver won. He pulls you in for a rough kiss -

"I hate you," you snarl at him through your intensely frustrated pout, even as his hand grabs your jaw, "interloping little slut, where the fuck do you get off -?" But the minute he pushes his tongue into your mouth you still try to press yourself against him, to kiss him harder, taste all of Farleigh in him that you could. You know you're sloppy fucking seconds to him, and you hate him for it.

"I was thinking it was going to be in you," Oliver says blithely as he pulls away from the kiss. In the back of his mind he knows it's a loaded statement - ha - but he hasn't forgotten the colours if this was a bridge too far -

"Fucking finally you have some common sense," you sneer, as if you weren't still on the verge of tears, "I was going to say that if you ruined my sheets I was going to have you arrested."

"No you weren't," pipes up Farleigh with an eyeroll. Immediately embarrassed you tell him to shut up, "no, I don't think I will; I'm beginning to think you guys are a bunch of fucking teases -"

Oliver gives him a thin smile, handing over the leash, having gotten all the permission he needed.

"Are you going to be good for Farleigh?" He whispered low in your ear, "didn't you want this?"

"Weren't you just begging for it?" Farleigh smirked down at you, lust-filled approval in his voice, "come on, baby," he murmurs as he takes your face in his hands, and immediately you're his, "crying for me?" The teasing starts warm, but as he's wiping the first of the tears from your cheeks, as you're nodding with embarrassment, his teasing turns mean and sharp and smug, "crying like a desperate, little cockwhore," he doesn't even time to let you react before he's giving your cheeks a gentle squeeze; "open up," he orders in that same cruel, loving, smug tone that makes Oliver's hairs stand up on the back of his neck. But you seem to react with relief the moment you have your mouth around him.

There's something that even Oliver finds entrancing about Farleigh in this moment. He'd been leading you both for so long that he'd forgotten where it had all started, the way Farleigh had spoken so early on, and how even in your most vicious or playful, part of you would always refer back to him. Part of Farleigh had earned your respect, and in the end, he had been the only one in the house who made the princess feel like her place was on her knees.

"Now your little power trip is over," Farleigh's voice cuts through Oliver's thoughts like a fucking knife, as always, painful and clean and precise, "do you need my permission to -" but Oliver's done with his bullshit tonight too.

"Shut it Farleigh," he rolls his eyes and starts to move once more. Time he focuses on your bound hands, finally deciding that you'd probably had enough, or at least were willing enough to listen to either Oliver or Farleigh in a way that mattered.

"Oh my god, freedom!" You immediately announced, sitting up to throw your hands in the air with a genuinely delightful glee.

"You see what you've done," Farleigh looked over your shoulder to Oliver, tossing his belt to the side, but you were already using your freedom to crawl up to meet him. Oliver's surprised by how genuine and affectionate you are when you tell him to be quiet for a moment. With one hand still working on him, the other being used to brace yourself up, you kiss Farleigh gently. What surprises Oliver even further is the momentary look of actual love in Farleigh's eyes as he cups your jaw and kisses you back.

Then you're moving back, making sure to let them both know that you weren't kidding about how much you enjoyed going down on Farleigh. However you do give pause, looking at Oliver through narrowed eyes for a long minute where he's sitting by your knees, watching the exchange, not quite sure where he was meant to go from here.

Your foot lashes out at him. Hard. It's unexpected. Somehow, so is the second kick that follows immediately after. The third he anticipates, but by that stage you'd shunted him to the edge of the bed, and though he tries to catch your leg he falls off, unsuccessful.

"What kind of problem do you have?" Oliver is scowling from the floor, his shoulder and hip sore from the fall, while Farleigh is laughing his ass off.

"What are you, a coat rack suddenly?" You demanded, matching his scowl with one of your own, still braced on your hands and knees over Farleigh, "also fuck you for making me beg for water." Careful, Oliver thinks, he's not quite done making you beg.

"Maybe his dick's broken," Farleigh snorted, "which would be a fucking shame; have you had a proper look at it?" Oliver bristled at the implications, though he knew he'd be thinking about the compliment tucked in there for days to come.

"You are both right fucking insufferable," Oliver snapped, getting to his feet and brushing himself off with indignation.

"Yeah, I'll cry about it in the shower later," you could clearly be heard rolling your eyes. There's a few pointedly obnoxious moments where you make a point of gagging on Farleigh's cock before coming back up for air and to add, "fuck me or fuck off - woah, okay, good choice!"

Before you can even finish your ultimatum, Oliver's decided he's come too far to, well, not. Grabbing your thighs with all the strength he could muster, he pulls you almost entirely away from Farleigh, to the end of the bed, half off the bed, causing you to faceplant into the duvet the moment your knees were no longer supporting you. Farleigh's protests fall on deaf ears, however, as all Oliver allows himself to focus on is keeping you stable, bent over the end of the bed like this.

Still, Farleigh shifts down to accommodate your change in position, despite his eye rolling and claims that Oliver's being dramatic, it's overshadowed by the sudden, loud moan that escapes you.

"Never felt someone so fucking desperate for someone they hate," Oliver bites out, almost impressed by how easy it was to bury himself in you. In the moment he gives you to adjust, his hand pressed to the small of your back to which you eagerly arch back against him, he watches Farleigh. It's his turn to be smug.

After a moment, he gives a few, shallow, experimental thrusts. Each time you rock back to meet him, to take him as deep as possible, and each time he hears a faint, pleased whimper. Your body and it's desires has betrayed you at every single opportunity, which is information Oliver gladly keeps in the back of his mind.

"Come on princess," he leans over to you to murmur in your ear where you'd pressed your face to Farleigh's thigh for the moment, attempting to keep going with your hand on him when your body could only focus on the rhythm of Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, "you've got a job to do, don't you want to be good?"

"I want to be good," you keened, before making the effort to prop yourself up, taking Farleigh in your mouth once more.

It's the last moment of care that Oliver affords, however, as he very quickly sets a rough pace, nails digging so hard into your hips that he thinks he might draw blood. But your cunt still clutches at him like it was made for his cock, so slick with how much you need this, need him in this moment, that it's already dripping down your thighs.

The three of you get lost in each other, each desperate moan from your muffled by Farleigh's cock hitting the back of your throat. The sensation soon sets him off and he can't keep his hands off of you. Up on his knees he takes over, takes your face in his hands as you look up at him, teary-eyed with a heady kind of bliss, and he matches Oliver's rhythm as he fucks your face.

Oliver can only imagine the kind of mess you look like right now, but has to focus on sustaining himself, making sure he doesn't leave you with any more excuses to belittle him tonight. So he reaches around, between your thighs, and his fingers find your desperately sensitive clit.

Immediately your stance slips, widens, gives him better access to your clit, and he hears your muffled moan become a choked sob. The beginning of the perfect end.

Farleigh's getting close, his pace is faltering, his hips are stuttering, you're whining and gasping desperate breathes between each of his thrusts, that have turned to wordless, overwhelmed sobs in the past few minutes. Oliver is genuinely impressed that you're able to take all of Farleigh like that; he wonders if he'd dedicated time to training you. He can't dwell on it, not when Farleigh's eyes have fallen closed and he's started mouthing what Oliver can only assume is a string of swear words.

For just a moment, Farleigh looks like an angel. Ethereal. He almost glows. Perfectly at peace and content and not a total, unbearable smug asshole. Then he pulls his cock out of your mouth and lets his legs give out again, flopping back onto your bed with a wide grin.

"I thought Oliver couldn't make you speechless," Farleigh teased, while you had in fact moved past words almost entirely, except -

"Please," you sobbed desperately. Farleigh, who'd never gotten to see you like this from here, lights up, moving back to you. You're shaking, barely able to support yourself, and he finally sees Oliver's hand between your thighs, and puts two and two together.

"Please?" He wears a smile that's all teeth, gently taking your shoulders and the pressure of keeping yourself up. In return you find yourself holding his face, his arms, everywhere, for support as he moved you back to press against Oliver. Taking the hint, Oliver wraps his arm around you, firm against your back, keeping you secure as he fucks up into you.

"Pleasepleaseplease -"

"Words, princess," Farleigh tells you as he brushes Oliver's hand out of the way, letting him focus on the new angle, the new sensation, the way you're trembling and so close to cumming on his cock. Before you can even formulate proper words at first, your head falls forward onto Farleigh's shoulder, sobbing, aching with how good you've been made to feel.

"I'm so close," you choke out, "please can I -"

"Selfish," Oliver admonishes coldly, and the reaction is immediate.

"No, no," you whimper apologetically, something Farleigh's never heard from you before. Lifting your head you lean back, fitting yourself against Oliver further, trying to placate, "please, no I promise- you, I need -" you take a deep, shuddering breath, "Ollie, please, it feels like I'm going to fucking die if you don't cum in me," you blurt out. Farleigh actually laughs, he's never seen you so fucking weak for another person.

Your begging and desperate pleas spur Oliver on, holding you tighter, fucking you harder, until he finally leans forward, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. It sends you over the edge, has you seeing stars as you cry out. Shudder and sobbing with your release, you feel Oliver bury his cock deep in you as it twitches and throbs and paints your inside.

Oliver lets you go, lets you fall onto Farleigh as your orgasm is still quaking through you. Oliver's hands grip your hips, keep you flush to him, keep you from pulling away.

"That's a good girl," Farleigh murmurs in your ear. He's holding you close with one arm, the other gently running his fingertips up and down your back in a comforting rhythm. He doesn't bother sparing Oliver a second glance, Oliver isn't an important part of this equation to him anymore. Not that that matters to Oliver.

It was far easier to pick you apart, to own you inside and out, than he'd ever imagined. He'd brought you to tears, made you beg for every last bit of fucking pleasure including every inch of him and then some. He would leave you aching, leave you knowing that you both knew the truth of where your place is in his world.

Finally Oliver pulls out of you, wiping his softening cock on your thighs before he thinks about getting dressed. He does take a few moments, while you're still half bent over the bed and being supported by Farleigh, where Oliver watched with a detached kind of approval, the way his cum starts to leak out of you, down your thighs with your own shining arousal.

The princess had been collared, cuffed, and his, inside and out.

"Thank- thank you, Oliver Quick," your voice is demure and grateful among your sniffles and whimpers, and Oliver can't help but smile to himself. His pride in you extends only to your final show of submission, though it's pride nonetheless.

"Good girl."

#saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start x reader x oliver quick #farleigh start x you #farleigh start imagine #farleigh start x y/n #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick smut #farleigh x reader x oliver #farleigh x reader #farleigh imagine #manic writer

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cl3fairyyy · 2 months

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hide and seek || edward nashton / the riddler x fem reader (nsfw !) ⋆｡𖦹°‧★

summary || your sex life recently with edward has been non existent. with him being so focused on his plans for gotham, you have found your needs being neglected. you decide to take initiative and plan a fun game for edward while he's at work.

warnings || SMUT!! there is plot but this is pretty much straight up porn lol. reader and edward role-play a kidnapping scenario but everything is consensual!! slapping, restraints, degradation, light knife play, overstimulation, p in v, pussy eating, choking, hunting(?kind of?), (fake) threats of violence, mentions of stalking, the suit stays ON during sex, some weird purity/ corruption stuff in this idk i think a demon possessed me halfway through writing this. minors please do not interact!!

word count || 4k i did not mean for it to be this long oopsie!!

notes || i haven't written smut in a LONG time so i am so sorry if this is straight up garbage pls go easy on me. recently reread year one and im seriously going insane the hyperfixation is so back guys. i love writing edward so much especially when it comes to writing some nasty porn about him LOL. i srsly had no idea how to end this so its kinda bad sorry D:

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In recent months, you have found yourself growing increasingly frustrated. For the longest time, you haven’t had the faintest idea of what has been causing this, and that has caused it to manifest itself in various ways throughout your everyday life. You have found yourself much more easily annoyed by the most minor inconveniences, and have had repeated warnings at work to stop arguing with customers over the pettiest of matters.

One afternoon in late November, whilst attempting to share in your boyfriend’s body heat on the sofa of your freezing living room, watching the news and listening to him ramble about finally ‘revealing the truth,’ it hits you.

Edward hasn’t fucked you in months.

Even before this change, you didn’t have the most active sex life- you were both too busy holding down your day jobs whilst simultaneously investigating the corruption poorly concealed beneath Gotham’s cobbled streets. Still, you’d find the time every other week or so to take care of each other.

You love having sex with Edward; he’s so gentle with you, handling you like a precious gem that will shatter if dropped. He always makes sure your needs are met before he even thinks of himself, worshipping your body with an obsession akin to a deeply faithful Catholic’s love for Christ himself.

But sometimes... it can get boring. Not as boring as not having sex at all, but boring enough that you often find yourself lying awake at night, longing for Edward to keep up his Riddler persona for just a little while longer after he arrives home from doing whatever he does to have the coppery scent of blood soaking into the walls of your small apartment.

You know your frustration will only worsen the longer you go without having sex, so you decide to do a small experiment.

You take the next few days off work, pretending to be sick, and Edward, usually ever attentive to your every need, your Edward, who begins panicking if you all but sniffle the wrong way, barely notices. With your theory proven that his work has been turning him into someone who is evidently not your sweet Edward, you begin doing everything you can for even an ounce of attention from him. You give him shoulder massages after he returns home from a long day at work, cook him his favourite meals, run baths for him, at some point it evolves into you all but throwing yourself at him, and you have to take a step back to reevaluate your approach. Being that desperate for sex is not a good look, especially when your boyfriend is completely oblivious to how horny you are.

You decide you need to formulate a plan to force him to focus on you.

It starts with the lingerie. You scour the shopping apps on your phone for an embarrassingly long time, trying to find something perfect. You eventually come across a pretty lilac set, its sheer mesh bra framed with soft ruffles and feminine frills to accentuate your chest, and immediately order it, even begrudgingly spending a little extra for next day delivery.

The next step of your plan is to come up with a simple puzzle, something stimulating but still to the point- you're so horny that you know the next time you’re in a room with Edward while he still has that Riddler costume on, it’s going to take some real self-restraint to stop yourself from ripping it off him.

The final step of your plan is waiting for the perfect moment to put everything into action. You realise it isn’t the most complicated or glamorous scheme to ever exist, but if it manages to work and allows you to finally get some action, you won’t be complaining.

One evening, when it’s well past 5pm, and definitely well past the time Edward should have been home from the office, you get a text from your beloved.

hi honey, moved tuesday’s plans forward to today. got an opening with savage and cant miss it. will be home late- ill pick up food on my way back. love you.

we’re finally making some REAL change : )

You almost leap out of your chair with excitement, rushing around the apartment to make sure everything is in place for your little game of hide and seek.

When Edward finally returns home, the apartment is dark- it’s well past 11pm, so he figures you’re in bed. He sighs, setting down the takeaway bag on the coffee table and calling out your name, pausing when you don’t answer. You always wait up for him when he’s running his late-night ‘errands.’ When he thinks about it more, he realises you didn’t even text him back earlier this evening; you’ve been sick, too- what if you collapsed, or had complications, or worse?

Before he can begin panicking, he finally notices the lit candle on the kitchen counter. Next to it is a piece of paper, which Edward gingerly picks up with shaking hands, reading the five words scrawled across it.

‘Dear Riddler,

Come find me.’

Confusion clouds Edward’s mind for a moment before he realises that he’s reading your handwriting, and the sweet flowery scent giving him a headache is his favourite perfume of yours. He stands still for a moment, rereading the note as the familiar feeling of want begins to curl in his lower belly. You’ve never actually addressed him as the Riddler before.

He definitely likes it.

You crouch uncomfortably in your hiding space beneath the dining table, straining your ears against the silence of the apartment as you try to gauge how Edward has taken your little game based off his breathing. You hear the rustling of fabric and the sound of something zipping up, and realise he must’ve slipped his jacket and mask back on because his breaths are definitely muffled now.

He begins taking slow, deliberate steps around the apartment, his combat boots loudly thudding on the wooden floorboards as he does so. You suddenly feel very vulnerable in only your undergarments and wonder if this is how his victims must feel, a thrill tingling deliciously up your spine.

You shift a little in your spot, trying to find a way to crouch comfortably while also remaining out of sight. Your heart pounds so hard in anticipation of being spotted that you’re sure Edward can hear it, especially when his footsteps begin to head towards your hiding spot.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the sound of your breathing to an absolute minimum; the silence in your apartment is deafening and, for the first time in all the years you have known him, you begin to feel almost weary of Edward’s presence. In this moment, you’re not just Edward’s partner.

You’re his prey.

So wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t hear Edward’s footsteps behind you. You feel two strong, gloved hands grab your hips and rip you out of your thoughts. You squeal giddily as Edward throws you onto the wooden dining table, biting your lip to stifle the giggles that threaten to spill out.

Edward looms over you, his glasses glinting in the moonlight that seeps into the apartment through the cracks in the blinds. He is completely silent, save for the heavy breaths muffled by his mask. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and raspy, and the sound of it sends tiny shivers of excitement up your arms.

“I’ve been watching you for so long. Every move you make, I’ve followed from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch you up. Do you know how hard it’s been? Hearing your pathetic whimpers while you fuck yourself every night, and having to wait until it’s me making you unravel? But now I have you here, all to myself, and no one is around to save you.”

The sight of him like this, so indescribably large compared to you, looking down on you like a lion that has captured its prey and is about to rip it to shreds- it sends sparks of arousal through you that pool in your sheer underwear. You look up at Edward through your eyelashes, smiling innocently.

“Looks like you caught me.”

With that, he drags you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he heads towards your bedroom. Your face burns, unsure of when or how he got so strong, and the anticipation of what he is about to do to you sends tingles of delight down your spine.

Edward throws you carelessly onto the bed before straddling you. He wordlessly grasps your wrists in one gloved hand, holding them above your head while he rips off a piece of duct tape from the roll that dangles from his belt, and binds them together securely. He subtly tilts his head to the side, and you can read him so well at this point that you know he’s asking if your restraints are too tight. You shake your head, and he immediately melts back into character, sweeping his gaze down your exposed body predatorily.

His gloved hands reach forward, roughly groping your breasts, pinching and rolling your clothed nipples between his fingers. You squeak, writhing beneath him, deciding to put on a bit of a show with it.

“P... please, don’t...” you whimper pathetically, bucking your hips into his. You hear him groan under his breath above you, removing one hand from your chest to grip your chin harshly, squishing your cheeks together. “Shut up.” His voice is low and dangerous when he speaks, a complete contrast to the sweet voice Edward usually addresses you with. “You’re trapped here, and no one is coming for you. You can scream as loud as you want, it won’t make a difference.”

“You’re so pitiful, dressed up like one of those whores on the street just to get my attention.” He breathes out slowly, slipping a gloved finger beneath your bra to massage your nipple. “I can’t say it hasn’t worked, but a whore is still a whore. You need to be cleansed, like the rest of the filth in this city, and the only person willing to do that is me. That’s why,” he pauses, the hand gripping your chin roughly yanking your mouth open as he leans over you, pulling up his mask slightly and spitting in your mouth, “you will take everything I give to you like a grateful little bitch.”

He slaps your face, hard enough to sting but not enough to bruise, and you swallow the mixture of your saliva and his. You can’t stop the moan that slips out from between your parted lips, and he locks eyes with you, his pupils blown so wide with arousal that his eyes appear completely black in the low light. He leans forward again, pulling up his mask, and harshly kisses you, pushing his tongue into your mouth as his knee forces your legs apart. You whimper when you feel his erection brush against your thigh and he bites down on your bottom lip, hard. He moves his focus to your neck and collarbones, attacking the sensitive skin with kisses and bites, marking every inch of you that’s visible.

“This is so,” he murmurs breathlessly between fervent kisses to your skin- and, Christ, is he smelling you?- “everyone knows you were fucked by the Riddler. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For everyone to know that you’re such a whore that getting fucked by a serial killer gets that pathetic cunt of yours completely soaked.” You moan at his words, arching your back to press your chest against his as you grind against his knee.

“Such a needy little thing. One touch from me and you’re already at my complete disposal.” He leans back on his heels to look over you, your hair a complete mess, your lips swollen and as red as the flush on your skin. The strap of your bra has slipped down your shoulder and Edward’s breaths become haggard as he reaches for the knife on his belt; he cuts away the fabric hiding your breasts from him, much to your dismay (that lingerie set was pretty fucking expensive), and immediately takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before biting down lightly. You moan louder, squirming against your restraints and trying to pull away from him.

He slaps you again, harder this time, running the flat side of his knife against the mark that begins blooming on your cheek. “If you don’t shut up and take it like a good girl, I'll have to hurt you.” He presses a chaste kiss to your parted lips. “I wouldn’t want to ruin a face as pretty as yours.”

You whimper, rubbing your clothed core against Edward’s thigh, feeling the arousal in your lower belly build from the stimulation. Edward certainly doesn’t miss this, his eyes widening slightly as he peels your underwear away from your pussy. A string of your own slick connects you to the mesh fabric, and you can hear the amusement in Edward’s voice when he says, “oh, I’m going to ruin you.”

He cuts your underwear away, dragging his knife down your body painfully slowly. You shiver from the cool metal, whining from frustration when Edward’s gloved fingers spread your glistening folds, pointedly ignoring your throbbing clit.

“You pathetic girl... so wet for me. No one else could get you to react like this from their words alone, could they?” You shake your head rapidly, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get closer to Edward’s fingers. “Say it, then.” He begins lazily rubbing circles into your clit, causing you to cry out with relief at him finally touching you. He runs the blunt end of his knife across your neck, twisting it in his hand so the tip presses into your skin, not quite breaching your flesh. “Nice and clear for me. Tell me that you’re my bitch.”

You moan when he begins speeding up his movements on your clit, stumbling over your words. “I.. I’m your- your b-” He cuts you off with another slap to your cheek, and the action sends a sharp jolt of pleasure right to your clit, causing you to choke out a moan. “Not quite, pretty girl. Try again. Whose bitch are you?” Your eyes narrow with confusion for a second before you realise what he wants you to say.

“I’m th- the Riddler’s bitch.”

He nods, satisfied, pushing two gloved fingers inside of you while the other continues rubbing your clit. You can feel your orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast, whimpering and giving Edward a pleading look.

He nods wordlessly and you unravel, your orgasm enveloping your body in a blissful warmth as your pussy clenches hard around Edward’s fingers. He breathes out through his nose, hard, as he watches you cum, his cock throbbing at the feeling of your pussy spasming around his fingers.

Edward pulls his fingers out of you when your body finally finishes shaking, inspecting your wetness on them in the low light of your bedroom for several moments, before pushing them under his mask and sucking them clean. He moans at the taste of you, and you feel his dick twitching against your leg as he closes his eyes, savouring you. He sighs, opening his eyes.

“I need more.”

Before you can react, he’s gripping your waist with strong hands, dragging your body up against him, holding you up almost completely off the bed, and hooking your legs over his shoulders. Edward gazes at your drenched cunt with a hunger in your eyes that you've never seen displayed by him, his breaths deep and shaky as he smells the arousal leaking out of you. You squeak, thighs still quivering from your previous orgasm.

“W-wait, Ed- Riddler, I... I’m still t-too sensitive for...” You cut yourself out with a cry of pained pleasure as he latches his mouth onto your pussy, pushing his tongue into your sensitive hole. You sob as he sucks on your clit, shocks of overstimulation wracking through you as you weakly kick your legs against him, your body growing limp. The sounds Edward makes as he devours your pussy are obscene, the room filling with echoes of your cries and Edward’s moans as he sucks and licks crudely at your sex.

He pulls away occasionally, praising and degrading you in barely coherent pussydrunk babbles: “such a perfect girl for me,” “stupid bitch, such a needy whore for your savior,” “so pretty with mascara running down your face,” “any louder and I'll give you a real reason to cry,” “taste so good, i need all of you.” And it’s all so much, his tongue writhing so deep inside you, the grip of his hands on your ass, the cool leather biting into your flesh, the way he moans and ruts into the bed from the taste of you, and before you can even breathe you’re cumming again, and you’re cumming so hard your back lifts off the bed entirely, the strength of your orgasm rocking you all the way to your core. Your mind goes blank as a chain of choked moans and sobs spill from between your lips, all you can focus on being the way Edward continues to fuck you with his tongue all the way through your orgasm. You can feel your slick sliding down your thighs, and when Edward pulls away you can see it dripping down his chin, and you don’t miss the proud grin on his face as he pulls down his mask.

He drops you back onto the bed, straddling you once more and wiping your slick from his chin with his finger, motioning for you to open your mouth. You obey him and he pushes the digit inside, motioning for you to suck it clean. When he pulls his finger from your mouth, his eyes darken, and you can practically feel the smug smile in his words. “Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you? No one can make you cum like I can... and I can still smell how horny you are for me. You’re so needy, yet you’re never satisfied.”

He tilts his head, and the dim light from the lamp behind him illuminates him similarly to a halo, and you almost find yourself beginning to create a religion in your head just to worship him.

“I don’t think you’re being very grateful.”

You begin crying out words of thanks, rubbing your legs together to lessen the ache of overstimulation. Edward's knees cage you in, and he grips one of your thighs with his hands.

“Quit your grovelling and stop fucking moving when I’m talking to you.” His hand travels to your face, cupping your cheek with a surprising tenderness as he sighs. “You’re still so filthy... look what this city has done to you. I suppose I’m your last hope.”

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers, finally freeing his cock from its confines. The tip is an angry red and leaks with precum, and Edward lets out a breathy moan as he strokes it. He spreads your legs, lining himself up with your sex and pushing into you slowly. He gazes down at you, a complete mess beneath him, and groans. “You’re so lucky... being fucked by Gotham’s salvation...”

You can barely think, let alone speak, and when Edward begins moving his hips, his thumb finding your clit and massaging it, you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks. He moves in and out of your agonisingly slowly, and when you look up at him, you can make out that his eyes are closed as he savours the feeling of you.

“Your virgin pussy is so... so fucking tight. Oh... h-how does it feel to be fucked by your saviour? Your God?”

You sniffle beneath him, choking on your sobs as he speeds up to a punishing pace, his cock bruising your insides. He grabs at every inch of you, his hands finding refuge around your throat.

“Oh, you’re so good. You were so filthy, but I will cleanse you. I will purify you; I will plant the seed of hope within you, and you will be saved.”

He babbles on as he fucks you, squeezing his fingers around your throat, verging on crushing your windpipe but never quite gripping hard enough. You cry out for him, so cockdrunk and lightheaded from your sudden lack of oxygen that you find yourself looping your bound wrists around his neck, pulling him forward and crashing your lips to the rough leather of his mask. He makes a noise of surprise before his fingers once again find your clit, rubbing at it desperately as his hips begin to stutter against your own.

Edward, ever the gentlemen, wants you to cum before him; you feel your cheeks grow warm at the thought, and pull away to look at him. You can barely keep your focus on him, your vision going hazy, and he begins assaulting your clit with more fervor.

“Be a good little angel and cum for your savior.”

Your vision goes white as the orgasm rips through you, your entire body spasming as your pussy clenches down hard on Edward’s cock. He has to stop moving to prevent himself from cumming as he guides you through your own orgasm, his fingers weaving through your hair as he coos at you.

“Yes, that’s it. Such a perfect girl. So pretty cumming on my cock.”

He begins speeding up again, his hips slapping against yours with a clumsy rhythm, his breathy moans growing louder and more desperate with each thrust. You lay, exhausted, whimpering incoherent words of encouragement to him as he chases after his own climax.

You feel him begin to pull out and you weakly wrap your legs around his hips. “W-want you inside. Need... need you to cleanse me from the inside.”

Your words are what tip Edward over the edge, and he whimpers loudly as his cum spills inside you, his hips grinding into yours as he relishes in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Thank God you're on birth control.

Edward slowly pulls out of you and cuts the duct tape that binds you, gently pressing kisses to the insides of your wrists. He pulls off his fogged up glasses and his mask, placing a gentle kiss to your lips as he smiles at you worriedly.

“I didn’t go too far, did I?”

There's your lovely Eddie.

You shake your head, laughing weakly and he smiles, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he helps you to your feet and guides you to the bathroom, letting you use his body for support. Edward sits you on the lip of the bath and dampens a towel, gentle cleaning you up and placing loving kisses to every bare patch of skin he can reach. He reluctantly leaves you alone to freshen up as he straightens up the bed, changing into his pajamas and finding your favourite t shirt of his to sleep in.

When you re-enter the bedroom, with a slight limp that Edward definitely notices but refuses to comment on, he dresses you and tucks you into bed before lying next to you, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“Sorry I’ve been so... distant lately.”

When you go to answer him, he rubs his thumb soothingly on your cheek and you get the message that he hasn’t finished talking.

“We have big things planned, we both know that, but... it wasn’t right of me to not look after you when, now that I look back at it, you really made it obvious that you needed me to. I hope you can forgive me.”

You smile, pressing a shy kiss to Edward’s lips.

“Don’t apologise, Eddie. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You can apologise tomorrow when I can’t feel my legs or sit down properly for a week.”

He laughs and buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I really love you, you silly girl. A-and..."

He pulls away from you but continues to avert his gaze, his cheeks pink and a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

"The, um, th-the lingerie was very pretty, you looked really lovely. I'm, ah, sorry about..."

He doesn't meet your eyes and you snort, bringing a hand to rest on his cheek with a fond smile.

"Yeah. That I'm not so quick to forgive. You have no idea how expensive nice underwear is when you're a woman."

Edward laughs shyly, delicately holding your wrist and pressing tender kisses to your palm that leave you melting. The heat in his eyes, however, is undeniable.

"I absolutely will not complain if you decide to spend all my money on pretty lingerie and then decide to model said lingerie for me."

"You're unbelievable."

You both laugh as Edward continues peppering soft kisses up your arm, then your bruising neck before finally meeting your lips in a tender kiss. He pulls away, and the way he looks at you with such love and adoration almost makes you tear up.

Edward twirls a strand of hair around his finger, pulling you closer to his chest. His fingers reach up and he begins combing them through your hair properly, whispering sweet praise to you as you find yourself dozing off.

#dano riddler #dano riddler x reader #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #paul dano #riddler 2022 #riddler x you #batman 2022 #edward nashton x you #riddler x reader #danocel #danonation #dano!riddler #the riddler #the riddler x reader #the riddler x you

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kimvvantae · 6 months

Text

the misadventures list; 5 (m)

➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au

warnings: toxic parents. brief mentions of homofobia. alcohol consumption. explicit sexual content (semi-public sex, oral m&f receiving, throat fucking, unprotected sex, praise kink kinda, cum play, dirty talk). made-up celebrities. me trying to be funny i guess

rating: 18+

word count: 20k

A/N: i can't thank you guys enough for waiting for this update! i know it's been a while but i hope you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!! as always, feedback is MUCH appreciated <3

➜ Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

It’s almost 6PM.

Jimin is not happy about it.

The change in his expression as he checks the hour on his phone is subtle, but you see it as clear as day. The smile that remained on his lips and vanished from his eyes. He sighs, putting the phone inside his back pocket, and goes back to saying his goodbyes to everyone at the pier.

It makes you forget for a second that you were in the process of saving your own number on Jane’s phone.

You look down once again, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Damn. You weren’t supposed to be making friends. Jane is the lesser problem right here - she doesn’t know anyone from Jimin’s family except Jimin himself. The problem is that many of Jungkook’s friends are Jimin’s, too, and they asked for your number or your Instagram. Which, sure, isn’t that big of a deal and isn’t something unpredictable either, but hey, your purpose here is to pretend for just three days. You’re supposed to vanish from Jimin’s life right after it’s over. “Vanishing” doesn’t include making friends with his friends.

“What? You forgot your number?” Jane asks, eyeing you. She’s so drunk that it’s obvious that she’s not seeing you really.

“Yeah, I’m… a little dizzy.” You chuckle awkwardly. That’s a lie, though - you’re not drunk in the slightest. As soon as you noticed that alcohol was making you act weird, you stopped with the cocktails and drank as much water as possible to dissipate it from your system (so much pee). Going to the Park’s private concert drunk is out of question.

Giving in, you type your real number on her phone and hand it back to her. Jane smiles.

“I’m so glad that we met, Y/N! You’re such a great person! For real, like, you have a nice vibe!” Jane says excitedly. Yeah, definitely drunk. “We should meet again before the trip is over!”

It won’t be possible, of course. You’re not free to do whatever you want. But you nod anyway, hoping she won’t remember anything later. “Sure, let’s go out!”

Your little chat is interrupted by Jungkook calling everyone for a group photo. As soon as everyone starts gathering in a spot, you feel Jimin’s hand resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His grip is warm and gentle and heat spreads from the spot he touches. His hair is kind of a mess right now, yet he still manages to look cute. Jimin doesn’t say anything, just sends you a small smile before posing for the camera.

A few clicks later, he leans over to say quietly in your ear: “We really have to go now.”

You nod. Both of you still have to get ready for the concert in a few hours. As Jimin explained, up until now, only his parents’ closest friends arrived; tonight, though, is when the real people will arrive. Not causing a good impression on them is not an option.

You start to make your way out of there, in the midst of saying goodbye to the people you walk past (consciously ignoring the vultures that were around Jimin, though. You ain’t acting nice to them at all). As you both walk past Jungkook, Jimin puts his hand over the younger’s shoulder and sends him a warning gaze.

“You better sober up,” he says. Jungkook only opens a carefree smirk in response.

“C’mon, I’m not even that drunk yet. Don’t worry.” You’re not so sure about that, though; there’s something kind of psychotic about his silly smile. “See you guys later!”

Instead of arguing, Jimin just sighs.

And finally, you’re walking away from the pier.

It’s quieter now, which honestly is such a relief. The temperature started to cool down a bit. The sun has already disappeared behind the horizon line, yet the sky is still clear, painted in beautiful shades of orange, yellow and pink. You just walk in silence, hands behind your back, feeling a little funny. Since you stayed a long time in the water, it feels as if your body is still floating. It’s been a while since you felt this way.

“Jimin, I wanted to ask you a question…” you say quietly after a while.

After not getting a response, you frown and look around. Jimin isn’t beside you.

He’s a few steps behind, holding his phone to eye level.

“What are you doing?”

Jimin smiles. “Registering the moment.”

You quirk one eyebrow up and walk back to where he stands, a little bit confused. Jimin lets you see his phone for a second.

Your jaw drops.

You stand at the very center of the photo he took, your back turned to him, hair swaying with the wind. The beautiful sight of the evening sky serves as an astonishing background, the last beams of sunlight framing your figure beautifully. It’s breathtaking. He made such a trivial moment become something incredible with a single shot.

“What the hell?!” You exclaim, astonished, making Jimin chuckle. “You’ll send me this, right? This has to go on my Instagram feed!”

“Nope.” He says in a cocky manner, sticking his phone to his chest so you can't see it anymore. “I’m gatekeeping this one.”

“Aw, come on! That’s not fair!” You cross your arms and frown at him. "What are you going to do with this photo anyway?"

"It's my lockscreen already." His eyebrows shoot up in a playful expression. "What makes me remember, you should change yours, too. Why didn't we change it before? Such an amateur mistake!" He swiftly takes your phone from your hand and opens the front camera.

"What are you doing-?"

You gasp softly when Jimin pulls you by the waist, sticking your body to his. "Smile, pretty!"

His act was so sudden that you, indeed, end up cracking a genuine smile - at the same moment his lips touch your cheek tenderly.

Click.

Jimin steps away and smiles proudly at the photo. "We look like a real couple here. Come on, set it as your lockscreen."

You take the phone back from his hand, feeling a little dizzy.

Oh well.

You literally made out with him in front of everyone just a few hours ago, in the middle of the ocean. Why does the chaste kiss he planted on your cheek still makes your face burn? Is it because now you're alone, not having to pretend to be a couple anymore, that his act felt much more intimate? But… there was no one else around during your first kiss at the beach, either.

It's because you're head over heels for him already.

You shake your head frantically as if to yank these thoughts away from your head. No no no. I'm not falling that easily. I'm a cold hearted bitch. I'm just flattered because he's cute and hot and rich, but it'll go away. Right?

"Yeah, right." You mumble.

"What?" Jimin quirks one eyebrow up.

"What?" You freeze, realizing that you voiced your thoughts out loud. "I-I mean- I want to ask you something."

"Oh." He puts his hands behind his back and starts walking again. You follow him shortly. "What is it?"

You munch the inside of your cheek nervously. "You can not tell me if you don't want to. But… what happened earlier today? That family meeting, I mean. Is there anything I need to know?"

The carefree glint in his eyes immediately disappears. Jimin looks down at his feet. "Oh."

An uncomfortable silence settles between you, only the sounds of the ocean and voices from the other people at the pier lingering. It makes you regret making that question as soon as the words leave your mouth. "You really don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You say hesitantly after a few seconds.

"No, it's alright." Jimin reassures, but he's still staring at his feet. He sighs and shakes his head. It's so painful to see him sulking this way whenever his family is mentioned… "Basically, they called me to say that Eunbi's parents are pissed about us."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Really?" You came prepared to be hated by Jimin's parents, but Eunbi's as well? Shit. As if one billionaire middle aged couple of enemies wasn't enough.

"Really." Jimin nods. You have finally reached the stairs that lead to the street level. This pier is within the resort's property, actually, so you're not that far from the bungalows, and the main building is just a few streets ahead. "They came thinking that the engagement was already settled. Without asking for our opinions, you know. They think that bringing you here is disrespectful to their daughter."

"Oh." You knit your eyebrows. "So… they don't care if you're in an actual relationship. They'd want you to break up so you can get married to someone you barely know… even if you weren't aware of the engagement?"

"Yep. That's exactly how they think." He sighs heavily.

You go up the stairs in silence. Your brain is working furiously. "This won't put you into real trouble, right?"

Jimin chuckles. "Y/N, the whole point of bringing you here was to put me in trouble. I want to stress them. Just don't worry too much, okay? Worrying will give you wrinkles, and you have to look wonderful tonight."

You're finally standing on the sidewalk, where one of the Park family butlers already waits to take you both back to the bungalow (he's wearing a short sleeved dress shirt, at least. Poor butlers, having to wear suits in the summer!). Your stomach twirls in nervousness. Spending the afternoon so freely made you forget for a bit your actual purpose here.

"You go without me, pretty. I'll get ready at Jungkook's place."

You turn to him, frowning in a confused expression. "What? Why?"

The happy gleam in his eyes comes back slowly as he steps closer. "I already explained that today is a little more serious, right? More guests arrived, we have to impress people… so I hired a team to take care of you. Hairstylist, makeup artist and stuff. They're already waiting for you."

"Oh." You feel your face burning for some reason. It should be expected of him to do something like that - even obvious, since all the socialites attending are probably getting the same treatment - but still, you can't help but feel a little flustered. "Okay." You change the weight of your body from one leg to another nervously. "So… see you later, I guess?"

Jesus Christ.

He's doing it again.

Standing directly in front of you with his hands behind his back, a mysterious lip tightened smile and mischief in his eyes, watching your every movement with amusement. If your face was hot a few seconds ago, now your entire body is feverish. Will you ever get used to this? The things Jimin makes you feel without even touching you are kind of amazing. Imagine when he actually touch you the way you want the most-

Hey, pervert. Stop.

"I think I've said this a hundred times already… but it's kinda rude to just stand and stare at people." You say, eyebrows knitted - but you can't manage to sound annoyed at all.

Jimin smirks.

"I want to kiss you."

You're so taken aback that your eyes widen.

"Huh?"

"Don't huh at me." He steps even closer - so close that you feel the heat emanating from his body. He rests his hand in the junction of your jaw and your neck, spreading even more heat from that spot. You don't push him away. All this heat is going to make you melt like a popsicle. "Don't try to look innocent right now. You shoved your tongue in my throat not long ago, missy."

You giggle, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I already said… I was just method acting."

"Hmm." Jimin nods slowly, biting his bottom lip. The sight makes you weak on the knees. "Sure. So, me kissing you right now means I'm method acting because one of the butlers is watching and we can't look suspicious around them, okay? Because they're my parents' eyes and ears, okay? Not because I want to kiss you." His voice gets lower as he leans in, a faked innocent expression that has you smiling and melting at the same time. "Just to make it clear so there's no misunderstanding. Okay?"

"Okay." You nod.

"Good. I'd hate if you got it all wrong."

Your giggle is muffled by his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively rest on each side of his waist, while he cups your face with both hands. Oh God… his plump lips are addicting. This kiss is slower and somehow more peaceful than the one you shared in the sea, but it makes your heart race and your senses go crazy nevertheless. Your lips move slowly, in sync with his. You can feel him smiling within the kiss, which causes your knees to feel even weaker.

He breaks the kiss not too long after, aware that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, but not taking his hands off of you. Yet again, he bites his bottom lip, analyzing your features carefully. "Hari will be there. You'll have a lot of territory to mark. Be ready."

You throw your head back, laughing. "Sure. You really are enjoying this way too much, huh?"

"I am. Why wouldn't I?" He confesses cheekily, shrugging. He pecks your lips one last time, lingering for a little longer, before finally letting you go. "See you later, pretty."

"See you."

You hope that Jimin doesn't notice that your legs kind of forgot how to walk as you distance yourself from him towards the butler. Because yes, you feel like a poor popsicle melting under the scorching Hawaiian sun. The sun has Jimin's face, which makes you remember the Teletubbies for some reason, earning a quiet giggle from you. The butler eyes you as if you're crazy.

Maybe you are getting crazy.

But to be honest - this insanity is sweeter than any popsicle you could ever taste.

As a kid, you always fantasized about being Mia from The Princess Diaries. Call it escapism if you want - fantasizing about a perfect life while yours was awful - but it was a dream of yours. Imagine: finding out your grandmother is a queen? Going from a regular loser to a crown princess? Who wouldn't want that?

You haven't thought of that movie in years. Now, as you stand in front of the mirror, it suddenly pops up in your head. Yes, Mia's iconic "transformation" scene.

Except you didn't think you were ugly before, which means right now, you're feeling like a literal goddess.

Maybe that's why God didn't make me rich, you think. Maybe he knew if I looked like this on a daily basis, I would be the most unbearable human being in this world.

"Did you like it?" The hairstylist, Christine, asks, eyeing you expectantly.

If I liked it?! I look like the hottest bitch you'll ever see in your life!

But instead of letting everyone see your God complex, you just nod and smile politely. "I loved it!"

Your eyes focus on the mirror again.

Jimin suggested you'd both wear black tonight as an evil joke. Traditionally, the dinner followed by the private concert is a more "informal" event, so everyone should dress accordingly with colorful outfits (you're in Hawaii, after all). Let's wear black. It represents me grieving my freedom, he said jokingly at the mall. You chuckled and thought he was being dramatic back then, but after everything you've witnessed for the past 48 hours, you realize that Jimin wasn't really joking when he said that.

The Yves Saint Lauren dress you two picked is quite simple: a short, strapless and sleeveless dress with a straight neckline. It's perfectly balanced between sexy and elegant: it enhances your curves the right amount, not enough to be considered vulgar by the aunties. Although it's strapless, it doesn't squeeze your boobies up so the uncles won't get "distracted" (ew). It's so simple but fits your body so well that you can't help but stare at your own reflection in awe. Simple black Givenchy sandals complete the outfit.

Being a (poor) fashion enthusiast, this whole experience is like heaven to you. One thing is to see new collections and judge new trends; another completely different thing is to get to wear a piece from a high fashion house. It's not only about prices and status. This dress is so well cut and woven that it seems to be alive, as if it knows where to be tight and where to be loose.

Doing your own makeup and hair was never a problem and you could do a pretty good job by yourself, but professionals doing it is on another level. Christine styled your hair back, carefully parting it and tucking it behind your ears, so your face is highlighted. Marco (the makeup artist) made your skin look impeccable, as smooth as baby butt cheeks (it's crazy how makeup can lie, huh?); the winged eyeliner, albeit simple, enhances the natural shape of your eyes. The lashes are subtle and make your eyes appear bigger. He completed the look by placing tiny little glitter dots under the waterline, one for each eye, so they kinda look like shiny tears (you suggested it, by the way, being carried away by the whole "grieving" concept. Talk about drama). He chose a lipstick color close to the natural color of your lips, making them appear shiny, plump and healthy.

And finally - the jewelry.

Mr. Zhou arrived at the bungalow a few minutes ago, carrying a leather, medium sized suitcase. You greet each other politely. Jimin texted saying that he would bring the jewelry you'd wear tonight - and you were anxious all along, because while you planned the outfits, he had already said you'd wear jewelry, but he didn't tell which jewelry; didn't show a single photo of what you'd wear, simply asked you to trust him. Although you learned to trust his fashion sense pretty fast, you don't like surprises at all. What if it's something extravagant that would ruin the look?

"Mr. Jimin picked those pieces from the Park jewelry collection himself," Mr. Zhou explains as he puts white gloves on (oh shit - this is so expensive that he has to wear gloves to touch it?!). "He said they would suit you fine - and I agree."

The chief butler opens the suitcase and takes the biggest black velvet case from inside, opening it.

It takes all of your self control not to gasp.

It's a gorgeous diamond necklace (yes, diamonds, fucking real diamonds!); it looks like a thick chain, actually, and at the center of it, sits a bigger emerald (yes, an emerald, a fucking real emerald!). Inside the box there are also subtle emerald earrings framed by tiny diamonds; since the necklace is already too much, the earrings have to be subtle to accompany them.

“I present you The Serpent’s Eye.” Mr. Zhou explains eloquently. “Tiffany & Co., designed by Paloma Picasso and acquired by the Park family in 2006.” He takes the necklace from the velvet case carefully. "If you'll allow me…"

"Of course." You say, turning around and facing the mirror again - but you do so hesitantly, because being the fashion enthusiast you are, you recognize the name Paloma Picasso, and the fact that you’re about to have one of her original designs around your neck scares you. You’ve been very well aware that every piece of clothing you wear is worth thousands, but these pieces must be worth much more than everything else combined.

Mr. Zhou stands behind you and places the necklace around your neck, the cool touch of metal and diamonds making you shiver. The necklace sits just above your collarbones. The name of the design is understandable - it indeed resembles a small snake tangled around your neck. He also helps you put the small earrings on.

Finally, Mr. Zhou steps aside.

"You look astonishing, Miss. Y/N," he says, and honestly, he sounds like he means it.

Yeah, I do, it’s what you want to say - but instead, you say “Thank you.”

It’s exactly what Jimin intended: elegance. If you’re too extravagant, his parents would hate it, and it’d make you look cheap no matter how expensive your clothes actually are. If it’s too simple, it’d look like you have no fashion sense. This look is the perfect balance. Your natural beauty is the focus, everything else just meant to highlight you.

You look like a celebrity.

You look like them. Like someone’s rich daughter. And yes, it’s conflicting, because you never wanted to look like them - but you can’t deny that you like what you see in the mirror.

You understand Jimin better now. Of course - he's an old money child, he doesn't know any lifestyle other than this. You're just having a little taste of what this life is. Yet, you can understand why he's so desperate to not lose his portion of the Park family fortune. Who wouldn't want to live such a lavish life? Who wouldn't want to look their absolute best at any opportunity, to wear clothes worth thousands just because they can?

Mr. Zhou looks at the watch on his wrist. “Now that you’re ready, I should take you to the event hall as soon as possible.”

“Am I late?” You ask in a worried tone.

“Fashionably late. I’m sure everyone will understand. It takes time to look your best.” Mr. Zhou reassures. Why is he being so nice today? “I will wait for you outside, Miss Y/N.”

You nod. As Christine and Marco pack their things, you don’t forget to thank them over and over again for their wonderful job. They seem like pretty nice people, actually, and you'd like to get to know them better, but you have no time to. Two other butlers will assist their exit. You take the small black clutch that literally can only fit your phone and a small lipgloss before walking out of the bungalow where Mr. Zhou already waits.

No golf car today. Instead, that same Mercedes Maybach from yesterday is parked outside. Mr. Zhou politely opens the door for you and helps you get inside the car before taking his place on the driver's seat.

Another wave of nervousness hits your stomach as he turns the car on and finally starts making his way towards the hall - a separate building within the hotel's property, sitting in front of the ocean, not far from the pier. The ride will take probably 5 minutes. You exhale heavily, checking yourself again with the front camera, before tapping Jimin's contact.

you: i'm coming

He replies almost instantly:

jimin: waiting for you outside

Oh. You didn't think he'd already be there. You put the phone inside the clutch again and look out the window, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"Are you nervous, Miss Y/N?" Mr. Zhou asks out of sudden, snapping you back to reality. He keeps the formal tone; his voice is soothing.

"A little bit, I'll admit." You say with a lip tightened smile.

"Tonight, you'll be meeting Jimin's parents' close friends and allies from other companies." He continues. He always speaks as if he's picking his words carefully. "It's quite important to them. It's not just a celebratory event, you see… they reassure their place within society and business today."

You frown slightly.

Mr. Zhou never talked this much. Although he keeps that formal persona, you see that he's trying to tell you something very specific, just avoiding the direct words to do so.

And yes, you get the message.

"You don’t need to worry, Mr. Zhou.” You say, crossing your arms, your expression hardening like stone in seconds. “I won’t embarrass the Park family in front of their friends.”

You see the butler nodding. “You’re smart.” He remarks. “Intelligence is important if you want to be accepted in the family.”

I would never in a million years want to be part of this family, you think. Instead, you just gulp and grip your arms, trying to ease the growing anger.

Finally, he parks in front of the events building. Yet, instead of immediately going out - and stopping you from opening the door yourself, since you’re already annoyed, Mr. Zhou turns around on his seat to look at you directly.

His expression is serious.

“I don’t want you to take my words badly, Miss Y/N.” He says in a quiet, yet stern voice. “I have been watching over this family even before Jimin was born. I know each of them very well, and I know how dysfunctional they are. When I say you have to be smart around them and watch yourself very carefully, I don’t say it to belittle you; I say it because I know what they would be capable of doing if you offend them somehow.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” You lean forward a bit, getting defensive. “Did they tell you to threaten me?”

“No.” His voice and expression don’t change despite your obvious outrage. “I am warning you because I see that you’re not quite aware of the type of people you’re dealing with. And because you seem like a respectable young lady.” Mr. Zhou’s eyes soften a bit. “I see that Jimin likes you a lot. I’m not quite sure of what your relationship with him really is, and I’d be happy if it’s genuine, because he really needs it in his life. But I know Jimin very well…” Mr. Zhou tilts his head to the side, frowning a bit. “...and I’d hate it if you're somehow harmed because of his immaturity.”

He sends a last significant gaze before finally opening the door.

You just have these short seconds to recover your breath before he opens the door for you. Shit. What he said actually gets you. Call it naivety or whatnot - but you didn’t stop to consider that Jimin’s parents are actually powerful people that could mess up your life if you annoy them enough. But… Jimin wouldn’t have asked for your help if he knew his parents would try anything serious against you, right?

Mr. Zhou knows Jimin better than you do and he just called him immature.

Oh shit.

The butler opens the door and offers his hand for you to walk out of the car. Now, you’re not just nervous - you’re worried.

Thankfully, the temperature dropped - it's still considerably hot, but much more comfortable than hours ago. You stand up, inhaling the fresh nightly air, and look at the gigantic building in front of you. Important events happen here quite frequently. Large marble stairs lead to the entrance of the hall. There is a gathering of women and men dressed elegantly slowly making their ways inside, greeting each other politely as they walk in, as well as many security guards. You stand on the sidewalk and nervously look around, searching for Jimin.

You spot him before he spots you.

He's standing at the corner, kind of hidden, close to the first steps, absently checking his phone. You already knew what he would be wearing tonight, but to see him in the outfit makes your brain malfunction.

Obviously, Jimin wears all black: a silk turtleneck under a black glitter Louis Vuitton blazer that fits him marvelously. The turtleneck is tucked into the dress pants. On his feet, leather black boots. His hair is pushed back, a single strand falling on his forehead, and he uses a pair of shades to complete the look. Instead of the usual dangly earrings, he wears small hoops tonight that match the outfit very well. Once again, you're left astonished at how this man is doing basically nothing - just standing there with one of his hands tucked inside the front pocket of his pants, checking his phone with a blank expression - but Gosh, he's gorgeous. His posture is perfect: he has the elegance of a swan, the grandeur of an eagle, and the confident gaze of a tiger about to slash you to pieces. In fact, he looks so good that you even forget the short talk you had with Mr. Zhou a minute ago.

It takes him around three seconds to lift his gaze from the phone and spot you.

It's funny, because you see the exact moment he freezes.

The shades slide down the bridge of his nose. He looks at you with slightly widened eyes and parted lips. It's like he's in shock.

Then, a smile breaks its way and lightens his face.

Jimin shoves the phone inside the pocket of his pants and rushes to you in a second. Nervousness bubbles within your stomach at every step he takes. It doesn’t help that he walks with the stance of a model - he’s definitely doing this on purpose. Handsome men that know they are handsome are the most dangerous type. Jimin is not only very well aware of his appearance, he uses it to his advantage all the time.

And when he stops in front of you, checking you out from head to toe - it’s like you can’t even breathe.

It’s a different feeling from yesterday. There’s no playfulness in his eyes at all. Only that same electricity hanging in the air you felt earlier today at the yacht - when you sat on his lap, when you kissed. This electricity is getting more and more intense, it’s like you’ll start seeing sparks around you at any moment. Fuck, he didn’t even touch you yet. You don’t know how much longer you can resist…

Honestly, you’re not sure if you want to keep resisting at this point.

Jimin takes your hand and makes you twirl around, earning a soft giggle from you. He bites his bottom lip, that mischievous smirk making you feel weak on the knees.

“Just so you know,” he says in a low voice, putting his hand on your waist, “If I make a fool of myself in front of everyone, I’m blaming you. Because I won’t be paying attention to anything else tonight.”

You giggle again, tentatively touching the lapel of his blazer. It’s beautifully embroidered with circular patterns; you can only see them if you stand close enough, though. Your sight lingers on his lips (for long seconds; they’re so plump and glossy and delicious) before you look into his eyes again. “I could say the same thing, Mr. Park.”

Jimin’s smirk widens and he tilts his head to the side. “I knew The Serpent’s Eye would suit you.” He touches the necklace with his fingertips. The action makes you gulp - this necklace seems to weigh tons and you’ve been painfully aware of it all the time, your anxious brain already making up scenarios of you losing the millionaire design and Jimin’s parents making you pay with your life.

“Why did you choose it, by the way?” You quirk one eyebrow up in a teasing expression. “Are you calling me a snake? Should I be offended?”

Jimin chuckles. “Of course not. Serpents are astute and smart animals… just like you.” Sir, the actual smooth person here is you, not me. “Not everyone can pull off such an aggressive design. I knew none of my mother’s friends would dare to choose it.”

Jimin hooks your arm around his and slowly starts to guide you towards the stairs. “So your mom lets her friends borrow her jewelry?” You ask.

“From the family collection, yes.” Jimin nods in a gracious movement. “The most expensive pieces, only to the closest and most important guests. It’s a sign of trust and respect.”

“But your mother surely doesn’t respect me.” You say between gritted teeth, aware of the people around you.

“Don’t worry, she won’t say a word about it. It’d be weird if the guests noticed that her daughter-in-law isn’t wearing one of the pieces. Like I told you… this event is about appearances. She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect.”

Daughter-in-law. This makes you shiver. You've been her fake in law for barely 48 hours and it already feels like hell. Imagine being her real in law… Jieun must’ve done some awful things in her past life to deserve this, honestly.

You’re forced to pay attention to your real surroundings before you can overthink more, though, when you realize you’re the center of attention.

This is probably the closest you’ll ever feel to being a celebrity. It’s not unusual to be the center of attention when it’s your birthday, for example. But this… this feels different. You don’t know most of these people, just some familiar faces from earlier today - yet, it seems that they already know you, they measure you up and down, they smile and greet you before you can. Sure… your arm is hooked with one of this event’s hosts, the Park’s youngest son. Yet, you see that people are also actually seeing you. You’re not just Jimin’s accessory.

Is this good? You’re not sure. This means they’ve heard from you somehow. In the span of less than 48 hours, these unknown people have been talking about you.

They approach you with curious smiles; they greet you and Jimin, make some shallow - almost diplomatic - comment about the weather or how long they haven’t seen Jimin or about the outfits or I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N! (how the hell did they hear a lot about you in such a short time, though?) or you make a gorgeous couple! (you know they’re not lying about this bit; you do look gorgeous). They do not look at you disapprovingly, so you can confirm that the outfit choice was indeed appropriate for the event, albeit dramatic.

“You’re great at this, did you know that?” Jimin compliments after yet another middle aged couple walks away, leaning a bit closer to your ear so only you can hear. “You even remember their names.”

“I have a good memory,” you say between a gritted-teeth smile. “Also, working on customer service teaches you a few things.”

“Really? You weren’t this charming when we met at that convenience store.” He says in a teasing way, cocking an eyebrow up.

“First of all, I met you sitting on the floor behind a fridge. You looked like a freak.” He lets a giggle at that. “Second, I’ve moonlighted as a waitress many times. And event hostess. Never any event of this level, of course.”

The last sentence was spoken in a quieter tone. Once again, you’re a bit scared of how Jimin - and everyone else - don’t seem to be bothered by the absolutely luxurious environment around. The immense hall is decorated in similar white and cream tones from the dinner yesterday (there’s a reason for that; Jimin’s parents are celebrating their 30th anniversary, the Pearl anniversary, apparently). Even waiters and waitresses, walking around with silver platters in hands and pretty smiles on their faces, wear cream uniforms. There are literal cascades of white lilies and roses so beautifully entangled that you’re intrigued at how they managed to arrange that. The round dinner tables are also decorated with white flowers at the center. There is a massive ice sculpture of an open oyster with a pearl in it at the entrance of the hall; the presence of pearls and oysters is almost everywhere in the decoration. The hostesses and waitresses even have small oyster shaped pins on their hair. At the very front, there is a stage; it’s barely lit yet, but you can see musicians discreetly preparing their instruments for the concert later. Professional photographers walk around the hall, recording and taking pictures of anything remarkable.

It’s jaw-dropping.

You feel weird inside.

It doesn’t matter that you look like them; you don’t feel like them. You don’t belong in this place, and it feels that everyone will notice it too if you do the slightest thing wrong. It’s clear in the way you’re astonished (outraged) at how someone can spend so much money on flowers (do you even know how much a single bouquet costs? Can you imagine thousands of flowers?!) while these people walk around with hundreds of thousands of dollars hanging from their ears or around their necks, and to them it’s just another weekend.

Oh boy. Mr. Zhou was kinda right. You will have to be very careful not to embarrass Jimin or his family in front of these people.

You walk around with your arm hooked around Jimin’s for a while, making silly small talk with the guests. Jimin quietly whispers who they are and their importance as they approach. It’s always some over the top shit like Biggest LG Shareholder or Co-Founder of This Very Famous Car Brand or CEO of This Very Rich Food Company and it makes your stomach drop every time. It seems that half of the country’s GDP is hanging around in this hall. A bunch of old guys with their (1) same age, but full of obvious cosmetic procedure wives or (2) much younger wives that of course married them out of true love.

Jimin complimented you earlier, but it’s him who deserves the most compliments. He’s really good at this. It’s so easy for him to engage in a superficial but polite conversation. Hello! I acknowledge your presence here! I am thankful that you came but I do not care enough to talk more than two minutes with you! Yes the weather is nice! See you later! All that with the prettiest smile and most genuine fake laughter you’ve ever seen (sounds contradictory but that’s exactly that). And they all fall for that. He’s so unbearably charming.

Which makes you wonder.

Jimin said that the whole purpose of bringing you to Hawaii was to upset his parents. But… he’s not really acting like someone willing to do that. Of course - maybe he knows that if he goes too far, his parents might really cut him off of their sweet sweet money fountain. Yet, it doesn’t match with what he stated earlier. Does he really want to piss his parents off? Or does he want to play the good boy so his parents leave him alone with this engagement thing? Those are opposites, he can’t want both.

Does he even know what he wants?

You’re unsure.

Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have accepted this insanity, the little anxious voice in your head says. Maybe he really is too immature and is about to fuck me up.

Jimin gives a little pat on the hand that holds his arm and smiles.

“We’re doing really well, pretty. I’m relieved that you’re here.” He says quietly. “This kind of event always stresses me out, but you’re making this easier.”

Don’t go around saying cute shit like that while I doubt you!

You avoid his gaze and sip a little bit more of the champagne you picked earlier from a waiter. “It doesn’t look like you’re stressed at all.” He shrugs.

“I’m method acting, too. Kinda used to it at this point.”

And there it is. That quiet sadness in his eyes.

Goddamnit.

All the questions in your head crumble to the ground, and you immediately want to comfort him like a baby.

That’s not a baby. It’s a grown ass man. Get yourself together.

The voice in your head is angrier now - and she’s kinda right, to be honest.

Jimin sighs and pats your hand again.

“Okay, we’ve wandered around enough. Food will be served soon… so we have to get seated.” He doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t despise the idea of having to sit with his family for another torturously long dinner.

“Okay.” You nod, placing the now empty champagne glass on another waiter’s platter. You inhale, trying to gather more confidence. “Let’s go.”

So, you start walking towards the table at the front of the stage - the most important one where everyone can see from all directions.

They’re already there, surrounded by their closest friends.

At every step, you try to gather more and more anger within yourself - this anger will fuel your confidence and muffle the nervousness (in theory). Fuck this middle aged billionaire couple. Fuck their matching cream outfits - Mr. Park Hyunjun wears a very traditional (read: boring) cream suit, while Mrs. Park Eunji wears a long, flowy dress with blue details in it and beautifully embroidered with silver patterns that seem to remember a soft breeze. A beautiful pearl necklace adorns her neck and modest cleavage. Their outfits are very “age appropriate” and posh, indeed, and they are an attractive couple, but everything about them is so painfully traditional.

Also fuck the way they look at you two with disapproval.

Another nauseatingly fake scene unfolds in front of your eyes - Mrs. Eunji giggles and side hugs Jimin, gushing over how handsome he looks (she can’t hide the obvious distaste for his black outfit, though).

“What an… interesting choice,” she says, touching the embroidery on his blazer with her fingertips. “Rather dramatic, I’d say.”

Jimin smiles. “Everyone looks good in black, you know. Also, I didn’t want to stand out.”

Bullshit. No one else is wearing black because it goes against the dress code. The way he said it so innocently would make any unsuspecting ears believe him, but his mom is certainly not one of those - neither are you.

“Of course, black can make anyone look presentable at least. Y/N is live proof, isn’t she?”

She eyes you from head to toe and smiles sweetly.

Holy fucking shit. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.

Her tone. The way she looks at you. Her awful Tom Ford perfume that makes you want to vomit as she approaches and - gasp - side hugs you too, like a good and loving mother-in-law. You smile and give her some soft pats on her back, but God, you can’t act as well as her at all - although you force yourself to do your best, well aware that all eyes and ears are focused on the Park family.

“You look astonishing tonight, Mrs. Park,” you say between gritted teeth. “This color really suits you.” Cream is boring. Like old paper. You almost smell like mold, too, rattlesnake.

“I’m glad you think so.” She’s not glad you think so. “See, me and Elie spent a long time choosing the color palette for this dress… he did such a wonderful job in the end.” She widens her eyes slightly. “Oh! My apologies, you can’t possibly know who I’m talking about…”

“Elie Saab.” You promptly say. Of course Elie Saab himself designed a dress for her. “Yes, I know his work.”

“Really?” She raises one eyebrow and this small movement spreads anger through your system. So much disdain, and she just said a word. “I didn’t think you’d know such a highly regarded fashion house, since you seem so… humble.” She has the audacity to eye you up and down with disgust again. “A wonderful trait to have, you see! Our Jimin definitely needs someone in his life to teach him some humility.”

In all honesty, you don’t even know how to respond to this.

Your wanted reaction is to reach for the nearest fork and stab her face with it. Which is, unfortunately, socially inappropriate. You also think of calling her by the ugliest names in existence, which, unfortunately is also socially inappropriate (won’t take you to jail, at least).

But all you can do is keep that smile plastered on your face and anger in your eyes.

This level of contempt is not unusual.

Alpha High taught you to get used to it. The giggles, side glances, or straight up offenses spoken out loud so everyone could laugh at your expense, too. It taught you to accept it silently, because you knew no one would stand up for you; you didn’t have enough money or a heavy surname to back you up. You weren’t important enough. Who cared if you had an excellent academic performance? It wasn’t as cool as having a summer manor in Greece anyway.

You hate that no clever response comes to your mind. You hate that you can just stand there and awkwardly look at her - this woman that made you feel cheap even though you have diamonds sitting around your neck. You hate that, deep down, you’re feeling as cornered as you were as a defenseless fifteen year old standing on the school hallway.

Not a fun feeling at all.

And things just start getting progressively worse.

Before even Jimin gets time to say something, another couple approaches - and your blood freezes. You’ve seen them yesterday at the reception dinner and earlier today, now feeling a little stupid that you didn’t make the simple connection. They’re followed shortly by another person, a much familiar and hated face.

Eunbi’s parents, apparently; Mr. and Mrs. Jeong.

Now that you look at the three of them, the silly part of your brain wonders who Eunbi inherited her beauty from, because they don’t share much of it with her, let’s say. They’re impeccably well dressed, of course, but their daughter’s beauty steals all the attention. She wears a rosé pink minidress (is it MiuMiu?) with a straight neckline and thin straps. On her ears, diamond earrings that seem to resemble raindrops; around her neck, a diamond choker necklace. Everything combed with the subtle makeup gives her a young, cute look.

You measure each other up and down like two rival lions about to fight. Complete opposites, black and pink.

The tension is so extreme that it’s almost visible - like some kind of fog.

Jimin is the one to break the ice, stepping closer to greet the couple, and you do the same, glad that you don’t have to look at Mrs. Rattlesnake even for five seconds - though this other lady also hates you, apparently. It’s kind of amazing how Jimin can act like the heavy tension isn’t there at all.

The seven of you stand there smiling for long and silent five seconds. It looks like a smiling contest. You can’t tell who’s angrier.

“So… Y/N, right?” Mrs. Jeong says. She looks like an eggplant, some part of your brain remarks silently, almost making you (very inappropriately) giggle. “It’s such a surprise that you and our Eunbi were classmates. We would’ve never guessed.”

If that’s even possible - your anger levels increase. It might’ve sounded like a pretty normal thing to say, but her tone and the way she measured you up and down makes it clear that what she really meant was we would’ve never guessed that a nobody like you also studied in Alpha High.

“We were surprised, too.” Eunbi says before you can, smiling sweetly. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“This is a great excuse for you to come with us to a day at the Spa tomorrow, isn’t it, Mrs. Park?” Eunbi’s mom says, eyeing the other woman knowingly.

“Of course! Y/N and Eunbi must have a lot to catch up after all these years, right? Y/N, you have to come with us tomorrow.” Rattlesnake hisses- (oops) says.

You look at the two other women with uneasiness.

First of all, this doesn’t sound like an invite, but a summon. You simply know you can’t say no. Second of all - these three despise you, they wouldn’t want you there if they didn’t have second intentions. What do they actually want?

You want to say no thanks, but it feels like you’re handcuffed in this situation.

“Sure. It sounds refreshing,” you finally agree with a painful smile. It didn’t even happen yet, but you know tomorrow is already ruined. Don’t let these bastards get to your head, your inner voice advises; don’t show weakness. You can deal with them.

Yeah, right.

You notice that, surprisingly, Eunbi looks very uncomfortable with the whole idea; she avoids her mother’s gaze and looks down, smile faltering a bit. She doesn’t want to be around you as much as you don’t want to be around her, apparently. At least you can agree on something.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Park stepping closer once again, placing his hand on his wife’s back. “Dear, dinner’s ready and about to be served. We should take our places.”

“Of course. I’m sure all of us are hungry enough.” She turns around to the other guests to announce it loudly, and somehow all the nearly one hundred people manage to hear it, walking to their respective seats.

Respective seats.

The seats are all charted - something you only saw in movies before, but you should’ve expected it at this point. Coming closer to the round table, you notice that over every beautiful white and blue porcelain plate, there is an elegant tag name in golden lettering on top of it. Mr. and Mrs. Park; Hyungsik and his wife sit by Mr. Park’s seat, while Jimin’s place is by his mother…

And by Jimin’s seat…

You freeze. Jimin freezes, too.

Jeong Eunbi’s name tag.

Feeling your stomach drop, you look around, searching for your own name tag - but there’s none to be seen, and it’s getting increasingly embarrassing as everyone else sits down while you and Jimin remain standing.

Your throat gets dry.

“She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect,” Jimin said as you walked inside the hall. This made you think she wouldn’t want to embarrass you.

Oh, Jimin. How wrong you were.

“Hm, there must be a mistake.” Jimin speaks up. The smile is still there, but his eyes hardened and his breath gets deeper as the visible anger fills him. “Where is Y/N’s seat?”

“Oh! Jimin, dear… this is a bit unpleasant,” his mother says, stepping closer with clasped hands and (fake) apologetic eyes. “You know that we planned this event months prior… the charting was already made long ago. We didn’t know Y/N would be here today. Unfortunately, there was no time to tell the catering staff to provide one more seat at our table.”

Funny how your legs start feeling cold all of sudden.

It’s the second time you’re at a loss of words tonight, this time much worse than before. You grip Jimin’s arm just a little tighter, feeling how the situation is starting to get people’s attention. Mrs. Park isn’t trying to be quiet right now. Your legs are cold, but your neck and face suddenly warm up with embarrassment as the guests on the main table whisper among each other in confusion.

“We found a vacant seat, of course, right over there, Y/N,” Mrs. Park continues - for fuck’s sake, she just continues - pointing over to the other side of the hall. “With the Kim family. You’ll love them, I know it!”

Your brain can’t process a coherent sentence.

With the corner of your eye, you notice Eunbi standing a few steps away awkwardly. She has the decency to look embarrassed, at least. Everyone else at the table is already seated.

You’re… you’re supposed to be their daughter-in-law. Their younger son’s girlfriend, the first girl he ever brought over. Yet… they refuse to let you sit by Jimin’s side on the main table, the hosts table, and want you to sit alone on the back so they can set up Jimin and Eunbi. And they’re doing it publicly.

This is the type of humiliation you wouldn’t expect from an adult, a mature person. But it’s happening nevertheless, and you want to sink and disappear. You can’t think of a quirky comeback, a way out that would make you feel less humiliated - even though Jimin isn’t even your real boyfriend and these people aren’t your real in-laws. This trip feels like a mistake, like a bad idea, like Mr. Zhou was absolutely right in his warning.

You’re so overwhelmed by this sour feeling that you don’t notice how Jimin’s smile disappears.

He sighs heavily, looking at his feet, jaw clenched.

“Okay.” He looks up at you - and you’re taken aback, because you’ve never seen Jimin angry before. “Y/N, let’s go back to our room.”

And he starts walking away, taking you along by the hand.

“What? Jimin- where’re you going?” Mrs. Park says, making Jimin stop. “Dinner’s about to be served.”

You see the warning in her eyes and gritted teeth and hardened smile, but for once, Jimin doesn’t play along. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak louder, but when he does speak, it’s in a hard and serious tone.

“If Y/N doesn’t have a place here, neither do I. I don’t see why we should stay in this situation.” He doesn’t bother to whisper, aware that he has the table’s attention. “Now, if you’ll excuse us...”

Oh shit. He’s angry and offended. Jimin turns around again, holding your hand tightly.

In the midst of all the bad feelings, this is so satisfying. You’re simply happy that Jimin didn’t leave you on your own, didn’t lower his head to his parents. He stood up for you and is genuinely pissed! His mother is still babbling - she for sure didn’t expect Jimin to want to leave like this - and even Mr. Park got up from his seat; Eunbi is pale, her parents watch in disapproval, similar to Jimin’s older brother, who glares at him as if he did something wrong.

“Wait, Jimin, please,” someone else says, which catches both yours and Jimin’s attention: Mr. Hwang. He’s gotten up and looks between you and Mrs. Park cautiously. “I am sure we can solve this situation very easily. There’s no need to miss this amazing night.”

Mrs. Hwang also gets up; her eyes are widened with worry and an uneasy smile. “I am sure everyone at this table can move a little so Y/N can sit with us.” Murmurs of agreement echo around, much to the Park’s displeasure. “Waiter, please? Could you assist us?”

You and Jimin eye each other as Mrs. Hwang politely asks a nearby waiter to bring another chair, while the guests start getting up with no protest to open a little spot by Jimin’s side. In no time, there is one more chair at the table; another waitress hushes to bring a new set of plates and cutlery.

“See? It’s done! Not a big problem at all.” Mr. Hwang says happily; the guests at the table also seem content.

“I guess we can all sit now, right, Jimin?” His wife says. “We all would hate it if this lovely young lady missed the concert.” And to your surprise - the table agrees.

You look at Jimin again. He doesn’t look happy - not at all - but it seems that he softened up a bit because of the Hwang couple; same goes for you. If this was a competition for Best Middle Aged Couple, the Hwangs would’ve won it by far.

He raises an eyebrow at you - a question. You shrug and nod in small movements. Although you’d rather not be here, at least Mrs. Park looks infuriated that her silly little plan didn’t work and she in fact caused a ridiculous scene. Her attempt at embarrassing you completely backfired.

Jimin sighs heavily and, instead of saying anything, walks back to the table once again. The guests sigh in relief; Eunbi looks even more awkward; the Parks are fuming. Jimin pushes the chair for you to sit, and as you do, a little spark of victory fills your chest.

“I’m glad this is solved,” Mrs. Park says, glaring at you as if she wants to stab you with the nearest knife, a lip tightened smile. “I hate unforeseen events.”

You are the unforeseen event. About to be the worst she could ever imagine.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Park. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” You say sweetly. Jimin does his best not to laugh; she definitely wants to stab you.

Me 1 x 0 Rattlesnake

A win, at last.

Everyone at the table does their best to forget The Seat Incident for the sake of a good mood.

Lighthearted conversations. Good (amazing) food. The band plays soft background music. Understandably so, neither you and Jimin talk much - he is still visibly upset; chooses to just respond whenever someone mentions him or makes quiet comments in your ear from time to time. You, on the other hand, don’t talk much because the person sitting by your left side is Eunbi and you’d honestly rather swallow nails than willingly have a conversation with her.

All things considered, everything is going alright. They’re asking fewer questions than yesterday, which is great, so you can focus on whatever the name of this thing you’re eating is - taking small bites and chewing slowly so you don’t look impolite and desperate for food. Your stomach twirls every time you hear Jimin’s parents' voices, though, which makes you enjoy the taste less.

You’re doing great, you mentally pat yourself on the back. A few more hours and you’ll be back in your room. Just get this over with.

After pretty much everyone is done eating - your stomach is so full that the dress becomes uncomfortably tight -, Mr. Park gets up from the chair and softly clicks the side of a knife on a crystal glass, enough to call everyone’s attention. You notice when a waiter swiftly places a mic on the table for him.

The band stops. Everyone goes silent. Mr. Park Hyunjun takes the mic, a soft smile adorning his features, as the spotlight focuses on him.

“Good evening once again, my friends.” His deep and elegant voice echoes softly through the speakers. The whole hall greets him back. “I hope everyone enjoyed this amazing dinner prepared by Chef Mauro Bianchi. Mr. Mauro, it is a pleasure to have you with us once again.”

A round of applause. An aggressively Italian man with a cook outfit politely bows and smiles as the spotlight focuses on him in the back of the hall, close to the kitchen doors. Of course Mr. Park only acknowledges the worldwide famous, I-don’t-know-how-many-Michelin-stars holder Chef, but not the entirety of the staff that helped organize and serve everyone.

“As most of the friends present here already know, me and my dear wife prepare this event every year not only as a celebration of our union, but also as a celebration of all the many achievements and challenges we win throughout the year.” He makes a dramatic pause, his eyes scanning the crowd to make sure everyone is paying attention - and everyone indeed is; despite your hatred for the man, you can’t deny that with this level of oratory, he could’ve easily been a news anchor.

He offers his hand to help his wife get up from the chair as another round of applause echoes. Mrs. Rattlesnake has a pretty smile, you have to admit. Once again - yeah, they do look great together, and otherwise you’d think this is all too sweet, but there’s just something inherently wrong with this scene… too poised, robotic - trained to detail.

“And past year was indeed one of the most significant of our lives. After much work, Aurum ranked fifth place as one of the biggest steel companies in the world. We’ve achieved heights my parents would’ve never imagined.” He continues. More applause. What does it even have to do with his marriage? “Unity. This is the word for our 30th anniversary. Everything we’ve made and built, we did together - and I’m sure we wouldn’t have gotten this far if we were apart.” Oh, so your fortune was “achieved” because of your wife? I thought it was because of the already rich company your dad left on your hands.

“And the oyster, my friends, is the perfect symbol of unity; it summons up our life as a couple very well.” He looks at his wife sweetly. You have trouble telling if Mrs. Rattlesnake’s glossy eyes are fake or not. “An oyster. Two shells, pressed together - working together to create the most beautiful pearl. And our pearls, our jewels - the biggest gift this marriage brought us both - is our two sons.”

My God.

You want to vomit.

The applause is a bit louder now as the spotlight focuses on both Jimin and Hyungsik. Both of them smile and wave to the public. If you hadn’t spent the most uncomfortable hours of your life around this family, you would’ve fallen for Mr. Park’s sweet words - but hell no. I mean, it might be true about Hyungsik - but Jimin? The dear son they very publicly disrespected only barely an hour ago, by ignoring his partner? The dear son they mock constantly, scold, disrespect, and want to force into an arranged marriage against his will?

These people genuinely make you sick.

You’re a bit surprised as Jimin grabs your hand under the tablecloth, where no one can see. You take it and squeeze softly. He wants to vomit as much as you do.

“You two are live proof of our love, and we are so proud to know you’re our children.” The applause continues as Mr. Park speaks this time. Kind of funny how he says that while Jimin himself stated that he sees his parents once a year. That’s not the behavior of someone that cares this much.

“Unity. Family. Love. Friendship. It’s what we’ve been harvesting together for the past 30 years, and I couldn’t be more happy and grateful.” He squeezes his wife’s hand sweetly. “Now, let us celebrate together, my dear friends.”

The lights go off while the hall applauds; the band starts playing again, way louder this time - a melody you’re familiar with - and when all the spotlights focus on the stage-

You gasp loudly.

“What the-?!” You whisper in utter shock. Jimin chuckles.

The woman standing on the stage is… is Kim Gain.

Like, why are you even surprised at this point? What, you thought the Parks would’ve hired a bar singer for their super expensive wedding anniversary? But even so, you didn’t expect to be seeing the 90s love songs’ legend Kim fucking Gain standing a few meters away from you, wearing a gorgeous long silver dress, her beautiful and powerful voice filling the hall as she sings her all-time smash hit Flower Hill. This woman doesn’t even do concerts anymore! You can’t even imagine the insane amount of money they must’ve paid her to do a private concert.

She sings looking directly at the main couple, and God- despite the age, her voice sounds even better live than recorded. It makes you forget for a while all of tonight’s awful events. You quietly hum along to the lyrics of Flower Hill word by word - it’s impossible to not know this song, not only because it’s a classic, but because it’s your mother’s favorite song and she hammered it into your head.

Your memories are as clear as the blue sky; your mother played her CD over and over again - this song specifically - while she prepared lunch. You helped her peel the boiled eggs, standing on a stool so you’d get tall enough to reach the sink, while she cut cabbage swiftly. You both sang along to Flower Hill. Even your father would hum along eventually as he put the dried bowls on their respective cabinets.

It’s a good childhood memory. One of the few. You remember thinking that your mother looked so beautiful when she wasn’t frowning and angry at you.

And all of sudden - sadness hits you like a truck.

Funny how being humiliated in front of these people didn’t even get close to making you cry the way just thinking of your mother does.

You sigh and look down, that familiar heavy thing growing in your chest, stubborn tears that you blink away before they can even come. Shit shit shit. Don’t you dare to cry here, Y/N, you scold yourself harshly. But goddammit- Mrs. Kim Gain sings really well, and when the chorus hits, you always melt away.

It’s moments like this that remind you that you are, in fact, not indifferent. And you are, in fact, far more hurt that you can put into words.

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s hand for comfort.

He eyes you quietly, confused - but chooses to not make any comment.

You elbow Jimin’s side, eyes squinted, as if unsure of what you’re seeing.

“What?” He asks, relaxing on the chair next to yours, now sitting on a table at the external part of the hall. Finally some cool night air; from the external part, you have a wonderful view of the immense garden that goes down the hill directly to the sea. You can see the pier down there; it’s full of parked yachts - much more than during the day - but there’s some in the distance as well, shining against the otherwise pitch black sea like little stars.

“Am I crazy,” you say after sipping more champagne from the glass, “or that’s Kim Minju?”

You discreetly point to a certain girl standing inside the hall. She’s tall and gorgeous, wearing a green sundress. You’re not really into idols - you don’t have time to keep up with celebrities at all - but even someone like you can recognize Kim Minju, the new “it” girl from the new “it” group everyone’s been talking about lately.

Jimin squints his eyes as well, and when he sees who you’re pointing at, he nods. “Yep, it’s her.”

You raise one eyebrow up. “Why are your parents friends with teenage celebrities?”

“They’re friends with her mother.” Jimin sips from his own glass of champagne. He took his blazer off and rolled the shirt up to his elbows, looking much more relaxed now that he can finally stay away from his family.

Kim Gain finished her concert, which meant people were allowed to just hang around and talk again, while the band kept playing background music. You decided to leave the main table as soon as you could, finding this almost-hidden table at the external balcony (you’re glad it’s this hidden, because it’s getting hard to sit all lady-like with your feet hurting like this. These Givenchy sandals were way too expensive to be this uncomfortable to wear). Jungkook was hanging out with you two minutes ago, but suddenly something “very important” happened and he had to leave (in other words: some hot girl passed by and he went after her).

“And her mother is…?”

“One of MNET’s biggest shareholders, basically. Why do you think Minju is the most popular member? Her mother pays for her to be the center, to have the best clothes… this kind of thing.” He speaks in a low voice, aware of the people around. “Most popular idols are only popular because their families pay for their popularity.”

“Oh.” Makes sense. You look him up and down, the hint of a playful smile on your lips. “You could’ve asked your parents for help in this area, Jimin. You would’ve made a great idol.”

Jimin chuckles and pushes his hair back. “I know, right? But I don’t think I would survive a day in this life. I mean- a dating ban?” He scowls. “Just no.”

You chuckle too, resting your chin on your palm. You’ve only been sipping champagne - though they’re serving other interesting drinks, too -, afraid to get even slightly intoxicated and embarrass yourself (and Jimin) in front of these people. Even so, this champagne is starting to make you feel a little funny inside. Maybe I should stop.

“How do you even know this dating ban thing is real?” You raise one eyebrow at him. Jimin huffs.

“I had a thing with this idol girl for a while.” He says nonchalantly - then interrupts himself, as if he just realized he said something he shouldn’t. He eyes you apologetically.

“I don’t care if you talk about other girls.” You assure, rolling your eyes. And you actually don’t. It’s not like you have anything real going on for you to care. (You’re quietly blaming your rage fit against Hari earlier today on the alcohol).

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why would I?”

Jimin looks at you in silence.

“Kinda hoped you’d be jealous.”

You laugh it off, furiously ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. “Just tell the story, Jimin.”

He seems dramatically disappointed, which makes you giggle again. Jimin sips more champagne and tilts his head.

“So… me and this girl. Whenever we went out together, we had to literally - I mean literally - hide. Wearing masks, sunglasses, hoodies, all this stuff. At the beginning it was kind of fun, but then it got unbearable. Her manager kept calling her all the time to know where she was. One time, a paparazzi caught us and I had to pay them a shitton of money to not release the photos.”

“Why didn’t she pay for it? Or her company?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Because her company didn’t know. She didn’t tell them, scared of getting punished or whatever. And she didn’t have the amount they asked for. So I paid for it.” He shrugs. “Then I broke up with her. I mean, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, why did I have to hide?”

“Yeah, sounds like a strict life. I don’t think I could take it, either.”

You notice the way Jimin’s eyes glint with playfulness again; a mischievous smirk adorns his lips. He comes even closer to you and looks around, making sure the people aren’t paying attention to the conversation.

“Back on the topic of Kim Minju,” he says in that quiet tone that means gossip. “Her mother is lesbian.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Really? How do you know?”

“I know a lot of things about a lot of people.” He discreetly points to an elegant woman standing near Kim Minju - maybe just a bit younger than Mrs. Park. “That one.” You squint your eyes to analyze her. “She’s been ‘single’ for around ten years, since her divorce with Minju’s father. She’s, like… the most famous closeted lesbian I’ve ever seen. In terms of how much people I know she fucked, she must be only behind Mr. Junghoon.”

Your eyes widen even more. “Jungkook’s dad?!”

Jimin nods vehemently. “Yep. He must’ve fucked at least half of this hall. All those pretty younger wives.”

You eye Junghoon - standing in the middle of the hall, laughing at something someone said. “Like father, like son, I guess.” Jimin chuckles at this. “I mean, he is very hot for his age.”

“That’s not even the craziest person here.” Jimin narrows his eyes, looking for someone into the crowd. You find yourself entertained by his sudden will to spill people’s lives on you - it even makes you forget how much your feet hurt for a while. When he finds them, he elbows your side lightly. “That couple over there? The Kwons?”

You take around three seconds to find them- a middle aged couple, a bit older than Jimin’s parents, perhaps. They seemed very polite (considering you talked for less than two minutes).

“Yeah?”

“They host massive orgies.” You look at Jimin in pure shock. He looks back at you with his eyebrows raised in that I know, girl expression. “They have a mansion in Malibu only for this purpose. They invite dozens of people to participate.”

You sip more champagne. That conservative looking couple host orgies? They look like the type of people that think women showing their ankles is a sin. Appearances really mean nothing around here! “Were you ever invited?”

“Thank God no. And I wouldn’t go anyway. Not into voyeurism.” Jimin makes a disgusted scowl. “But I know some people that went there. They’re pretty creepy, actually. Just… stay away from them, okay?”

“Noted.” You’ve watched enough documentaries about how rich people can be creepy to know Jimin isn’t kidding.

“There’s also, let’s see… oh! Jinwoo, over there.” He points to a man in his early thirties that you briefly greeted earlier today. “His marriage was arranged, too. I heard he has a severe humiliation kink. He likes to be treated like shit by women.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hide the bubbling giggle. Not to kinkshame anyone, but wow. “But his wife is not into it at all. From what I’ve heard, they even live in separate houses. So Jinwoo has to pay women to satisfy him.”

“I wouldn’t think that of him… he looks like the type that calls women females.” You remark.

“People around here look nothing like they actually are.” Jimin sips more champagne. You expectantly wait for him to tell you more - (1) because you like gossiping (2) because this is the most fun you’ve had the entire night. “Oh! Minho and Krystal. Over there.”

Said couple is standing quite far, talking to Jimin’s brother and his wife. They must be in their early thirties, too; an attractive couple that haven’t stepped away from each other the whole time. You briefly remember thinking they looked cute together.

“Yeah?”

“They’re in a forced marriage, too. Minho is gay.”

You pause. “They look genuine.”

“They’re not.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I met him in a bar last year in Berlin. He hit on me. Insistently. He’s friends with my brother, so I turned him down. But yeah, I saw him with other guys there.”

You look back at Minho in silence.

Oh.

This one’s kinda sad.

“So… he was forced into marrying a woman even though he’s gay.” You reason out loud. “Does his family know?”

“Probably not. At least, they pretend they don’t.” Jimin sips more champagne with a sour expression.

“That’s fucked up in so many levels.” You’re starting to get angry just talking about it. “He’s trapped with this woman, having to pretend his entire life? All for the sake of appearances? What, are we stuck in the XVIII century and nobody told me?”

“I told you that’s how things work around here.” He says, staring at the bubbles in his champagne glass.

And he actually told you. In your third encounter, back at the convenience store. But you didn’t believe him. It felt too far from your reality to be taken seriously. Now, though - after finding out that most of these pristine looking people, the “role models” of society are in secret what they most demonize - you truly realize how awful everything is. This much hypocrisy feels repulsive, overwhelming.

Is this how Jimin has been feeling his entire life?

“What about you, Jimin?” you ask quietly, any hint of playfulness gone from your face and voice.

“What about me?”

“What if you’re stuck in this situation? I mean, I remember what you told me back then. What if you want to marry a guy? Your parents would be against it… are you going to end like Minho? Having to pretend for the rest of your life? Can you accept this?”

Jimin sighs and hangs his head back, closing his eyes. You hate it because for a moment all you can look at is his half parted plump lips and your brain malfunctions for a sec.

“Let’s not talk about me, please?” He asks in a whiny, raspy voice.

“Why not? I’m worried about you. Can’t I be worried?” You put one hand on your hip, somehow starting to feel offended.

“No, you can’t.” He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

Yeah, you’re offended now. “Okay, then. I’m sorry for caring.”

Jimin looks at you with half opened eyes.

His voice drops.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“What?” You raise one eyebrow up.

“Act like you actually care.”

“Why do you think I’m acting?” You slightly push the empty champagne glass away, so nothing is between you two. Because he’s quieter, you unconsciously drop your voice, too.

“You said so. Method acting.”

You’re getting tired of this “method acting” thing. You inhale heavily. “Well, I’m not acting right now.”

Jimin drops his eyes to his own empty champagne glass, drumming his fingers on the table softly. He makes a small pout. His lips are so damn attractive. “You know, I’m conflicted about you.”

“Please elaborate.”

“I know I shouldn’t be expecting anything real from you at all, since I hired you to be here. But why do I feel that something real is going on?” He looks up at you again. “But then, sometimes, I feel like it’s not? I don’t know what to think of you.”

Holy Shit.

He went straight to the point.

You feel goosebumps on your spine (though you try to blame it on the cool breeze hitting your back, not on Jimin’s piercing gaze, of course). It’s kind of creepy how Jimin can balance being silly and cute in a moment and then boom - painfully straightforward a second later. He didn’t beat around the bush at all.

And yeah, you get what he meant.

You can’t tell if something real is going on. It’s way too early to say something “real” - whatever it is - is happening; you barely even know Jimin. At the same time he doesn’t know if you’re serious, you don’t know if he is being serious; many times, it feels like he’s acting, putting up a character around you. The way you’re rapidly getting attached to him is scary - what if you’re getting attached to a character? What if you’re surprised by Jimin’s real persona in the worst way possible?

You have no idea about any of that.

What you know, though - something that is very real, is almost visible - is the undeniable attraction you feel for each other.

This isn’t deep. You don’t have to think much about it.

And right now - with the alcohol subtly fogging your judgment and making you feel hot inside; the accumulated tension - you don’t really want to fight back anymore. You don’t want to think of consequences. All you can think of is his pretty plump lips.

You smirk, resting your face on your palm again. You see how this single look of yours affects him. You’re not the only one that can do this, Jimin.

“You know,” your voice is very quiet right now; half lidded eyes that stare back at him with the same intensity. “Knowing everything isn’t fun. I think it’s better this way.”

You’re still in public, but it’s like everyone else becomes distant.

Jimin smirks, too.

“Let’s play a game, then.” He says all of sudden, getting even closer to you, on the edge of his seat. “I’ll ask a few questions. You can answer them or not.”

You feel his hand on your leg, under the tablecloth.

This makes you widen your eyes, surprised, looking around discreetly. “What are you doing?”

“You said your feet hurt, pretty.” Oh shit. That mischievous tone, playful smile, glinting eyes. You’re a popsicle melting under his heat. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to giggle, as Jimin rests your left leg over his own legs. “Free massage.”

You’re kind of hidden - your leg is fully under the tablecloth - but you still look around frantically, trying not to make any weird face. “Jimin- they’ll see us.”

Jimin clicks his tongue at the same time he swiftly unbuckles your sandal and places it on the floor. Your heart beats faster with adrenaline - if any auntie sees this, they might want to arrest me! “They’re not paying attention to us.”

Indeed, no one is. Mr. and Mrs. Park are having a dance in the center of the hall; most of the crowd surrounds them. The place became dimly lit as the spotlight focuses only on the couple as they sway to a romantic tune and everyone watches them.

You’re about to make another complaint, but as both of his hands hold your aching foot, pressing it - you have to fight back what would be an obscene moan. It feels too good. Jimin chuckles.

“So, back on the game.” It’s criminal how he acts like he’s doing nothing wrong as his hands massage your foot. “Did you want to hook up with Hoseok?”

This comes so out of the blue that you freeze. “What made you think that?”

“I saw the way you looked at each other.”

Well. It’s not like Hoseok tried to pretend when he first saw you. “No. He’s hot, but no.”

Jimin nods. He seems satisfied with the answer. His hands work around your feet miraculously, pressing on the right spots, easing the pain.

They go a bit up. On your ankles now.

Oh God.

“Did you want to hook up with Jungkook?” Still not looking at you.

“No.” You chuckle. “What got into you? Are you jealous?”

“I don’t know, am I?” He raises his eyebrows and shrugs, making you smile. “I’d only be jealous if something real was going on between us, right?”

His hands are traveling up your leg, still massaging as they do. You gulp heavily. Your heart beats faster.

“Right.”

Your thigh.

You gasp quietly as, in a sudden movement, he pushes you even closer to his body. The chair scratches on the floor. You’re glad the music is loud enough to mask the noise.

His hands are warm. His smirk widens.

Jimin massages your thigh slowly. You don’t make any attempt to stop him. His hands are resting just a little distant from the hem of your dress.

You want them to be under it.

Yes, you are very much aware of all the people standing around, the things they’d think if they notice what is going on. But Jimin’s hands are on your thigh and you feel hotter inside every minute and his delicious lips are right there and holy fuck he’s enjoying torturing you as much as you enjoy being tortured and- you don’t even remember what you were worrying about a second ago.

“You’re so soft.” He says in a quiet, sultry voice that makes your insides quiver. “Are you feeling better now, pretty?”

“Mmmh-hmm” you say quietly as your breath gets deeper - which makes Jimin smile even more. “You’re good at this, did you know that? You have a hidden talent.”

He chuckles darkly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “I could show you what else I can do with this talent of mine.”

His fingers - slowly, hesitantly - travel just a bit upwards, while he eyes you tentatively. He sees no disapproval or discomfort in your expression, which only ignites his excitement. He smirks and shakes his head slightly.

“I’m actually going insane because of you, Y/N.” The smirk in his voice makes yet another goosebump run through your system. In response, you tilt your head to the side, eyeing him innocently.

“Why? I’m not doing anything.” You bite the tip of your tongue while smiling, which makes Jimin gulp.

Oh, the electricity. It almost sparks in the air with the power of a lightning. And to think you were trying to act all chaste not long ago, gaslighting yourself into thinking that doing anything with him would be equivalent as “selling yourself”.

Who fucking cares?

“Last question.” He says quietly, leaning even closer to you until his lips are right by your ear, sending shivers of excitement down your body.

“Will you let finally let me fuck you?”

The words get stuck in your throat.

Jimin hasn’t been this obscenely straightforward up until now. It makes your mouth water, your heart beat faster. His voice wasn’t demanding. It was pleading. Like he was desperate for you and couldn’t take it anymore.

And that’s your last straw.

You lean away just enough to look at him. Fuck, he’s got pleading eyes, too. Your panties feel humid, you remember the last time you had sex was three months ago, you feel his warm hand on your thigh, dangerously close to your intimacy.

You smile and, in a swift movement, move your leg away from his hand.

Jimin looks confused for a moment, his smile faltering, as you take the sandal and put it on your foot once again. He looks even more confused - maybe thinking you got offended? - when you get up and adjust your dress.

Then you look at him.

“Excuse me. I need to go to the toilet.”

Without looking back, you take the clutch from the table and make your way inside the hall.

The main couple is still having their moment in the middle of the hall - and for the first time you’re thankful to them, because no one even bats an eye as you discreetly make your way to the restroom. The dim lights hide you, not even waiters or security guards or photographers notice you.

As you get into the black marble restroom - completely empty - you have around five seconds to look at your reflection in the mirror before Jimin walks in and shuts the door.

His lips on yours shut you mid-giggle.

Jimin grabs the back of your neck and glues his body on yours with the other hand as he hungrily kisses you - the kiss tastes like the cherry from your lipgloss and expensive champagne. You grab both sides of his neck as Jimin and you stumble to one of the stalls and you close the door clumsily. Holy fucking shit, it’s getting hot. The kiss is deep and desperate and full of desire.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says in a breathy voice that makes you smile seductively. “Why you gotta do this to me?”

You unconsciously squeeze your thighs on one another as he leaves a wet kiss on your neck; you grab his shoulders for support. “I’m not doing anything yet.”

He chuckles darkly against your skin, his hot breath increases your temperature even more. His hand travels down your back to squeeze your ass, making you gasp lightly. He leaves one more wet kiss, and another, and another.

Jimin leans away so he can look at you. His lips are reddish, wet and a bit swollen.

“You don’t need to.” He parts your legs with his own. Your insides bubble with excitement. “Look at you… all dolled up. The prettiest of all of them out there.” He licks his lips slowly. “I want to make a mess of you, Y/N. I want to see how pretty you look with your hair and makeup ruined by me.”

His knee presses on your intimacy, making you involuntarily sigh; the pressure is still too soft, not even close to satisfying the raging fire inside your body, but it already makes you gulp and breath heavier. God, you want this man inside of you. You need him.

Jimin notices your change in expression and his smirk widens as he moves his knee against you, making you sigh again. You kiss him eagerly. There’s still music out there, but all you can hear is the kissing sounds and breaths and Jimin’s deep humm of approval.

“This is the face I wanted to see the most.” He whispers on your lips, his leg pressed against you, his hands caressing your waist and hips. “Let me make you feel good, pretty… please?” He pecks your lips. “Hmm?” He bites your bottom lip lightly, passing his tongue on it right after. “Can I fuck you now?”

Shit shit shit. It’s embarrassing how you already feel this wet while you barely even started. Were you this much touch starved? Or is it because you’ve been wanting this as much as him since the beginning?

You kiss him again.

“Not here.” you whisper in a breathy voice.

Jimin nods. It’s obvious. Anyone could walk in at any moment.

Back to your shared bungalow? It’s too far from here - only five minutes by car, yes, but you don’t think you can wait this long. Not to mention Mr. Zhou would be the one to drive you both back and you don’t want to look at that old man’s face before having sex.

Inside some car? But which car? This place is full of butlers and security guards, anyone would notice what’s going on. Just no.

As you’re about to ask where you could head to - Jimin’s eyes glint in that way that tells you he had an idea.

His smirk widens.

He steps back and grabs your hand with a boyish, playful expression.

“Let’s go.”

You have time to grab the forgotten clutch from over the sink before Jimin drags you out of the restroom - luckily, the hall is still dimly lit and there aren’t many people back here. Discreetly, you two make your way towards the back exit - avoiding butlers and photographers at the main entrance - stepping out of the hall towards the stairs.

You finally realize where Jimin is heading to when you get to the sidewalk and he takes a turn to the left.

The pier.

Dozens of parked and empty yachts just around the corner.

You’re both laughing childishly as you run towards the pier - stopping only so you can yank those sandals off; who the hell could run in stilettos? - not caring to look back, feeling excitement and just the sheer joy of doing something you know you shouldn’t. The pier is quiet, there aren’t many people around; most yachts are dark. Jimin doesn’t drop your hand as he squints his eyes trying to find a specific one. When he does, he sprints towards it, dragging you along.

Jungkook’s yacht.

Completely dark. Cleaners, bartenders, all the staff are long gone, having finished their shifts long ago.

There is a security guard standing in front of the entrance stairs, though.

He frowns as you two approach.

“Hey!” Jimin says in a happy voice. “You’re… Steven, right? Remember me? We were here earlier today.”

By the looks of it, his name is Steven, and he looks shocked that Jimin remembers it. “Good evening, sir. Did you need something?”

“You see, Steven, I might have forgotten something very important in the yacht.” Jimin says. You want to laugh. “I’d like to go check it out.”

“Of course, sir. Tell me what it is, I can ask another guard to check it for you-“

Jimin steps closer.

“No, Steven. I need to check it out. It’s kind of personal, you know?”

Steven eyes you and Jimin back and forth.

The penny drops. His frown deepens. You’re not even embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t let you in.” He says in a mix of hesitance and annoyance. “This is private property.”

“I know, Steven, and I’m glad my friend hired such a diligent security guard. You’re very professional.” Jimin is a bastard, isn’t he? “I promise I won’t get you in trouble. Just let me check, okay?”

Steven looks around. “I’m sorry, sir… I really can’t.”

Jimin nods.

He drops your hand for the first time, reaching for the inside of his back pocket.

You watch with your jaw dropped as he opens his wallet and puts a stack of money on Steven’s hand.

Jimin casually walks around with stacks of money in his wallet.

The security guard’s eyes are as widened as yours. That much money must be double - shit, triple - of what he’ll get for this shift. You see as his annoyance dissolves and his resolve to not let you in disappears.

“It’s a really tiny thing I’m looking for, so it’ll take, I don’t know… an hour?” Jimin looks back at you up and down and reaches for his wallet again. He takes another stack just as big and puts it on Steven’s hand. “Two hours, actually, to check the whole place.”

Steven gulps. It seems he’s furiously fighting against his work ethic - but the money on his hand is heavier.

Steven steps aside, finally giving up. “Okay, sir.”

Jimin smiles and grabs your hand again. “Make sure to keep the other guards away, okay? Thank you so much!”

You two sprint up the stairs - you have time to mumble an embarrassed “thank you” - towards the deck.

The yacht is completely dark, except for some emergency lights. Jimin guides you around it. You know there are actual bedrooms here, but both of you are way too impatient to go up one more flight of stairs - so before you can even process what’s happening, Jimin has thrown you against the bar counter and is kissing you again.

You drop the sandals and the clutch on the wooden floor before entangling your arms around Jimin’s neck. He presses his body on yours so hard that you lean back, your back hits the counter. And to think you were right here a few hours ago, surrounded by a bunch of people; it’s a completely different vibe with the lights off, silent, the darkness of the sea around you.

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s ass, which makes him chuckle against your lips. He leans away for a moment and seems to be searching for something; with a click of his, the glass top of the counter lits up - there are red led lights under it. Both him and you are painted red.

Jimin looks at you with hungry eyes, out of breath. That damn smirk.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this, pretty.” He pushes you closer again, grabbing your hair and leaving noisy kisses on your neck.

“I think I do.” You say cockily. You’ve been aching for him all this time - and it’ even embarrassing to admit it to yourself -; it’s embarrassing that Jimin is everything you learned to hate (filthy rich, arrogant, a fuck boy) from your past experiences, but shit, you’ve been wondering how he would feel inside of you all this time, you’ve been craving him since that night in your tiny apartment… and you’ve been wondering if he fucks as good as he talks.

Your hand bravely travels to his front. You rest your palm on his crotch, gently pressing it - earning a soft sigh from him. He’s stone hard. It makes you chuckle cockily against his ear, and the sensual sound sends shivers down Jimin’s spine.

“No, no, no… you don’t really know.” His lips are on your ear as he speaks quietly and deeply. While one of his hands are still tightly entangled in your hair, the other travels down your back - which already almost makes you melt - to rest on your ass; in a slow but unhesitant movement, he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it up to your hips, fully exposing your ass. “Ever since that time at the store…” he massages your asscheeks with both palms and squeezes it gently. You lick his neck in response. “When you looked at me with such disdain… you were reading a fucking text book behind that counter, looking at me as if you were so much better than me… I imagined fucking you over that same counter, pretty.” Goosebumps. He grabs one of your thighs and you instinctively wrap it around his waist; when he humps his clothed core against yours, you can’t fight back a soft moan. “I imagined fucking you over and over again. Such a hard-working girl…” He humps again, stronger this time. “So pretty…”

Your impatient fingers search for the lapel of his blazer, and you help him take it off, dropping it on the floor; you grab his face with both hands and your lips are pressed again in a hot dance, while he still humps slowly and sensually; each rub on your clothed clit sends electricity and heat through your veins. Your lower part is almost totally uncovered, except for the black lace thong you wear, and the cool ocean breeze makes the tiny hairs on your body raise. Everything is red and hot. Some sane part of your brain registers that if there’s anyone inside the neighbor yachts, they will totally see what’s happening - and it only adds to the excitement.

Jimin breaks the kiss and leans back slightly with half lidded eyes. His lips are shiny and stained with your lipgloss. He’s so sexy that the vision itself makes you feel pleasure.

He grips your ass tightly and watches intently as his movements make your breath get deeper each time, makes you sigh and moan softly. His breathing is deeper, too; his Adam’s apple moves when he gulps. He licks his bottom lip sensually, feeling the taste of your sweet lipgloss. He keeps you glued to his body as both of you move your hips against each other, rubbing your clothed intimacies to a more urgent pace; there are already droplets of sweat starting to cover his forehead.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, watching you whimper.

“Touch me.” Your voice sounds strangled and slightly out of breath, which makes Jimin smile darkly. “Please.”

“Baby, you don’t need to beg.” He’s so visibly proud of himself and excited that he’s almost glowing more than the red led lights. The hand that supported your leg swiftly travels to your front and he unashamedly presses it on your clothed core, feeling the lace with his fingertips and the wetness underneath. The smile widens. “I’m going to give you anything you want tonight. Anything.”

Your head drops back when he starts to move his fingers in circular movements over your clit. He watches your every reaction intently with that same darkened gaze and smile. With the other hand, he grabs the back of your neck and once again glues his lips to your ear:

“I want to hear you moan for me, baby.”

He says as his fingers slip under the fabric of the thong.

You shiver and an obscene whimper leaves your lips when his cool fingers make contact with your warm, wet intimacy. He hums in approval - and the deep sound makes your legs shake -, feeling your arousal, before once again putting pressure on your clit and moving his fingers in provocative circles. That’s a man that knows what to do with a clit, by the way. You entrance tightens around nothing.

“You like that?” He whispers. You nod, eyes closed, lips half parted. “Hmmm…” is all you can say. His smile widens.

Instinctively, you start to buck your hips, following the movement of his hand. He increases the speed of his movements, noticing your eagerness. You feel the fire spreading from your core down your legs and stomach.

With a quiet chuckle, he suddenly wraps his other arm around your waist. You let a surprised gasp as Jimin lifts you from the ground with ease and makes you sit over the counter (you hadn’t realized that Jimin is that strong, which is kind of hot).

He stands between your legs and kisses you again. Your fingers run through his smooth hair; he massages your thighs, back and ass. You softly bite his delicious bottom lip, and it’s sick how you know he’s smiling before even opening your eyes.

“You want me so bad, baby. It’s kind of cute.” He breathes amidst a quiet chuckle.

“You’re talking too much.”

He chuckles again as his fingers search for the zipper on the back of your dress. “I can’t shut up when you’re around.” The quiet sound of the zipper somehow sounds loud right now. “I want you to pay attention to me and only me.”

“You have all of my attention now. Let’s see if you deserve it.” Jimin finds it sickening how you sound innocent and sweet as you say this, gazing at him with the most daring eyes he’s ever seen. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, let’s see.”

Usually, you’d worry about taking the dress off, scared to damage it somehow, but as Jimin helps you lift it and put it over your head, you couldn’t care less. You’re not wearing a bra. Your chest is fully exposed; you rest your hands back on the counter, gazing at Jimin sweetly, as he almost drools over your body.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He breathes heavily, mesmerized. Without wasting a second, he cups your breasts with both hands and squeezes them gently, earning a hum of approval from you. He kisses your neck, making his way down - slow, wet, loud kisses -, tasting you; you grip and massage his smooth hair, pulling it softly in ways that make him shiver.

When he hungrily mouths one of your hardened nipples, you bite your bottom lip and a soft moan escapes. Just the vision of his plump lips wrapped around your nipple makes you wetter. He swirls his warm, wet tongue around it, while his hand still works on your other breast, massaging it in delicious movements. He sucks your nipple, making a loud noise, before biting it gently - earning a hiss from you.

“I like that sound.” He says against your skin, looking up at you with a smile. “God, you’re delicious.” He kisses a spot on your stomach, under your breast. “You smell so good…” Another kiss. Lower this time. “I want to eat you.”

You giggle, biting your lip provocatively - as if his actions aren’t making you go insane. “Then do it.”

It’s his turn to laugh as he shakes his head; his smile is angelical - even though, right now, with the red light painting his face as he helps you position your feet on the counter - your hands supporting the weight of your body as you lean back slightly, totally spread and exposed for him -, he looks like a hungry demon.

God. You never had sex in such an open place before. The ocean breeze hits your body, making you shiver, at the same time that you’re burning from the inside, trembling in expectation. Jimin takes the hem of your thong and helps you take it off slowly, well aware of how painful making you wait is. He drops the last piece of clothing to the floor before grabbing the insides of your thighs, spreading you even more.

You’re naked and open over a bar counter, where anyone from the neighboring yachts can see you, with a million dollar necklace around your neck - and you’ve never been so aroused before.

Jimin licks his lips, eyes locked on your cunt. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” You bite your bottom lip hard when his fingers press on your clit in circular movements again for some moments before spreading your pussy lips with his index and pointed finger. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

He wraps his lips on your clit.

You throw your head back and actually moan this time.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck - his plump lips around your clit feel like heaven, much better than what your dirty mind could think of. He sucks softly and licks you, from your entrance to your clit again, flicking his tongue over it (once again - that’s a man that knows what to do with a clit). His warm, wet muscle moving against your most sensitive part makes waves of heat and raw pleasure run through your body, completely clouding your mind, as your fingers grip his hair and moans and hisses escape through your lips. Your sounds of pleasure, the wet noises he makes as he sucks you and the ocean waves create the most obscene and beautiful symphony you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck-“ you manage to breathe out somehow. If he weren’t busy sucking your clit, he would’ve smirked cockily. “Feel so good, baby…”

He leans away for a moment, actually smirking this time. His lips are so wet that the sight makes you more wet. “Shit, if you call me like that again, I will cum in my pants.”

This makes you smile - but your smile goes away quickly as he carefully introduces two fingers inside of you, making you moan and bite your bottom lip. You’re so wet that they slide in easily - but you’re also very tight due to not being penetrated in a while, which makes Jimin move slowly. He watches your cunt with the attention of a professional. Fuck, he might be a pro at this, actually.

He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, making you lose your breath; Jimin pays attention to your every reaction. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan, nodding, still biting your bottom lip. Jimin looks up at you with a fog in his eyes.

“You look so fucking hot right now, Y/N.” Somehow, the way he calls your name in that low tone instead of pretty sends goosebumps down your spine. He keeps eye contact while his fingers keep moving inside of you. He starts pulling them in and out, and you close your eyes for a moment, feeling shockwaves of pleasure every time he does so. Your breath gets shallow and quick, and out of instinct, you start bucking your hips, following his movements.

He mouths your clit once again while his fingers are still busy, making you moan louder. “R-Right there, Jimin-“ you stutter in a breathless voice. “Just like that…”

You don’t need to ask twice - he keeps hitting the same spot as his mouth works on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue over it, slurping all of your juices. You grip his hair for dear life, incapable of doing anything but moan and hiss and sweat, feeling your legs shake. You also think Jimin looks so fucking hot right now - head between your legs, hair an absolute mess (your fault), wet lips and the hungriest eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

It might be because you’ve been touch starved for a while, or because Jimin eats pussy too well, or because you’ve been dreaming of this moment with him - but you already feel the orgasm building up. “Don’t fucking stop,” you beg him - and he obeys, sucking and licking mercilessly; maybe even Steven down there can hear the squelching noise your pussy makes every time his fingers move, or your moans that make Jimin feel the hardest he’s ever been. A small pool of your juices forms on the glass under you, dripping from your entrance. Jimin works on your cunt like his life depends on it. You feel the overwhelming heat building up in your stomach, your body shaking, your lungs failing-

You grip Jimin’s hair hard and yank him away from your pussy as the orgasm hits (you pulled so hard that it hurt his scalp - and he loved it); he also loved how tight you clenched his fingers as the orgasm made you convulse, just imagining how it would feel to be inside you. He watches you with pride, all covered in sweat and helpless, your face contorted in pleasure.

He takes his fingers out of you slowly, standing straight again to press his lips on yours - and you don’t care to taste yourself on his lips. Your legs are still weak and trembling when one of his arms once again wraps around your waist and he helps you stand up on the floor, never breaking apart.

“Baby, I need you around me.” He whispers between kisses - and it almost sounds like a whimper, which makes your legs even weaker. “Will you get on your knees for me? Hmm?”

It’s your turn to obey promptly - Jimin ate you out so good that he deserves it. Without saying anything, and still keeping eye contact, you get on your knees, batting your lashes prettily at him while your fingers work on his belt. Jimin takes some strands of hair away from your face, mesmerized; ever since you first met, he always looked at you in a way that made you feel attractive, and right now it has just increased tenfold.

Jimin unzips his pants and frees his cock from his black boxers. You gulp at the sight of his girthy, veiny cock; he’s stone hard, pulsating, and you wonder exactly how long he’s been hard already. He pumps himself slowly, while you once again lock eyes.

“Shit- you look even better than I imagined.” He says in a low, breathy tone. Just the fact that your usually fierce and unbashful persona is obediently kneeled down in front of his dick, looking up at him with sweet round eyes (you’re too good at this), eyes clouded still recovering from your high, almost sends him over the edge.

You stick your tongue out and lick his pink tip, immediately earning a hiss of pleasure. Your lips wrap around the tip and you suck gently at first, teasing him, never breaking eye contact, while he still pumps himself. Jimin gulps, licking his wet lips; the sight itself makes you tighten your pussy around nothing.

“Open your mouth for me.” He says - and this time it doesn’t sound like he’s asking, meaning he’s more desperate. You promptly do so, sticking your tongue out again. He slaps his cock against your tongue, hissing - and it’s fucking evil how you’re smiling right now, he thinks - while his other hand grips the hair at the top of your head firmly.

He pushes in. Fuck - he’s big and fat and you gag around him, but at the same time, he tastes delicious, if it even makes sense. Jimin closes his eyes and throws his head back, starting to roll his hips against your face, as his hand still keeps your head in place and your lips tighten around his cock.

“Shit– you look so good with my cock stuffed down your throat,” he hisses, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Drool and spit drip from the corners of your mouth, you gag and whimper, but it’s the daring gaze locked on his that tells Jimin he can just keep going. “So obedient, baby, taking me like a big girl… fuck– I want to cum all over your face.”

You hum with his dick in your mouth, sending vibrations that make him groan with pleasure. His balls slap on your chin every time he thrusts, and you keep your lips tightened around him, trying to give him the pressure he needs. There’s something sensual about you being naked while he’s still fully clothed - and you never thought you’d feel this way for anyone. He looks so hot with sweat covering his forehead, strands of hair falling over eyes, half lidded eyes and parted lips in a face of pure pleasure; fuck, you’d let him fuck your throat whenever he wanted, you’d suck him forever if it meant you would have this sight every time you did it.

His grunts and moans and hisses make you melt every time, even though his movements become more and more uncomfortable as he stuffs himself in your throat in quick thrusts that make you whimper and feel tears grow in your eyes. As if sensing this, Jimin yanks you off his cock and you gasp for air. He smiles at how messy you look right now, with drool dripping from your mouth and a thin layer of sweat over your forehead.

“C’mere,” he breathes out, helping you get up and hurriedly guiding you towards a nearby sun lounger. Closer to the yacht’s balcony, the ocean breeze hits your body harder, making you shiver. “How do you want me to fuck you, hm?”

Without saying a word, you smile devilishly before getting on your fours for him; you arch your back and purr like a cat, ass up, chest touching the lounger. You're still smiling and biting your lip when you look at him from over your shoulder, mesmerized by the sight of your stretched pussy.

Jimin steps closer and massages your asscheek before slapping hard, earning you a soft hiss. “You’re amazing. Can’t stop saying that. You’re perfect, baby.” He grips your hip with one hand while the other guides his cock to your entrance, getting the tip wetter with your juices. “You’re so good that you make me wanna fuck you raw, baby.”

Truth is - you didn’t even think of protection, and you couldn’t care less in this moment, as wrong as it is - but God, when Jimin finally pushes in, stretching your pussy as both of you moan in pleasure, you couldn’t be more thankful that his cock is uncovered so you can feel his skin purely.

Your breathing fails and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight, adjusting to the pressure and the slight pain it causes. Jimin pushes balls deep in, slowly at first, throwing his head back in delight. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, pretty…”

He starts to thrust in and out, making you moan each time with the glorious friction you desired so much. “Fuck– f-feel so good, Jimin…” you purr, arching your back even more. He grips both sides of your hips firmly, increasing speed with each thrust; the sound of skin hitting skin repeatedly is everything you can hear beside yours and Jimin’s moans and grunts.

Every nerve in your body seems to be on fire. His cock punches deep into your pussy, pushing you closer and closer to actual insanity as your mind becomes incapable of noticing anything but the feeling of him hammering inside of you over and over again, his strong grip on your hips, stuffing you even better than you had fantasized. Sweat covers all of your body now, and the necklace hurts your collarbones since you’re pressed against the lounger, but you couldn’t care less right now.

“I love hearing you moan, pretty.” He sounds out of breath and sexy. You gasp in surprise when, suddenly, he grips your hair and pulls it, forcing your head back. It burns your scalp; you hiss in pain, but the pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure and somehow doubles it. “Fuck– this pussy’s all mine. You’re all mine.”

You never thought Jimin was the possessive type, but people babble whatever comes to their minds when they fuck, right? That’s why, mindlessly, you have the audacity to agree: “Y-Yeah, baby, I’m all yours– ah!”

He pulls your hair even harder at the same time he takes it all out just to slam himself balls deep in again in a way that lets you see stars and drool. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck– he’s merciless, relentless in his quick pace, ruthless in the way he grips you and spanks your ass - but, at the same time, his mouth is full of praises, grunting how good you feel or how pretty you are.

You whine in protest when he pulls out entirely without warning. “Turn around, I want to watch you getting fucked.”

Once again, you do as he said without complaints - but instead of immediately laying back again, your hurried fingers unbutton his shirt and you make him take it off, which Jimin does gladly, since the fabric was already glued to his body due to how much he was sweating. You lay back; Jimin grabs your legs and puts both knees over his shoulders.

He takes his cock with one hand while the other holds one of your thighs, slapping it on your clit a few times. You watch his face distort with pleasure when he pushes inside of you again. Jimin picks a fast pace from the beginning, holding both of your thighs, focused as if he’s on a mission; all you can do is moan and whimper helplessly, massaging your own breasts while Jimin drives both of you closer to your highs.

He watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, your face covered with sweat, the way not even the ruined makeup makes you look ugly - and the fact that you’re wearing anything but diamonds somehow arouses him even more. You clench around him, pushing Jimin closer and closer to the edge. Neither of you are worrying about being quiet right now, and you can only hope that the ocean will be your ally in muffling your desperate moans.

But you’re suddenly forced to worry about it.

The sound of voices and steps yank both of you back to reality at the same time.

Jimin stops moving. You and him look to the stairs barely five meters away at the same time.

Two voices coming closer.

“Sir, please-” you hear. It’s Steven’s voice - worried, almost freaked out.

And the second voice-

“B-But I’m sure I left it here somewhere…”

You both recognize it instantly.

A very drunk Jungkook.

You look back at Jimin with horror, eyes open wide, as he lets go of your legs and lays on top of you instead, shushing you.

“Sir, please,” Steven’s panicked voice echoes again. “As I told you, the upper floors were waxed… you can’t go upstairs, it’ll ruin your shoes,” yeah, he came up with a smart excuse. But Jungkook keeps babbling about losing something, too drunk to understand.

If he comes upstairs, he’ll immediately see you. You’re not in a hidden spot at all. You want to get up and hurry away-

But then you look at Jimin again and he’s smirking devilishly.

He thrusts again, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

Before you can moan - he covers your mouth with his hand.

Your eyes talk. Are you seriously doing this?

His eyes talk back. Yeah.

He thrusts again.

And again.

Your eyes roll back, you entangle your legs around his waist. Fuck, these men down there could come upstairs at any moment. They can hear you if you’re loud enough. If they come upstairs and see you in this situation, you don’t know if you’ll get over the embarrassment. But Jimin’s cock is stuffing you so deep and so good. He hits your spot again, and again, and again, and his dick is thick and heavy, and he could tear you open that you wouldn’t mind - so you don’t push Jimin away. No, you tighten your legs around him because don’t he dare stop; you grip his back, you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet, but the fact that Jimin can still hear your muffled moans against his hand makes it hard for him to endure this much longer.

He hides his face on your neck in an attempt to muffle his own moans, biting your shoulder in a torturous slower pace now - if he goes too hard, the sound of skin hitting skin will be heard from the floor below. A part of your mind registers that Steven is desperately trying to lead Jungkook out of the yacht, while all the other parts are focused on Jimin’s member inside of you, his weight over your body, his teeth sinked on your shoulder. You can’t stop, neither does he. It’s like you’re in some type of trance.

After long, torturous minutes, you hear the voices going away.

Jimin is ruthless.

He lets go of your mouth and supports his body with his forearms on both sides of your face, pounding in despair; neither of you can take this much longer, it’s getting painful.

“F-Fuck, pretty, you did so well-” he somehow manages to breathe out, smirking in boyish excitement. “Such an obedient girl, hmpf, keeping quiet while I fuck you good…”

“Oh my God–” you whimper, feeling the second - and more intense - orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. “D-Don’t fucking stop, Jimin–”

“Yes, baby, I’ll make you cum again–” he swiftly leans away and places one leg over his shoulder again, spreading you in an even better angle. “You deserve it, baby- shit, shit, shit–”

He punches inside of you over and over and over again until your walls are clenched and convulsing and your toes curl and your eyes roll and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight and your whole body shakes in an explosive orgasm. You’re breathless, weak; it was an almost out of body experience. Did you ever cum this hard before? You don’t think so.

And it’s not time to think of yourself, actually, because when your brain starts recovering from the high, you realize that Jimin had pulled out and is pumping his cock desperately, trying to reach his high. You grab his wrist, stopping him, and - Jimin almost loses it - you meow: “C’mere, come in my mouth.”

You sit up and he kneels over you until his member is on your face and, without wasting a second, you put it all into your mouth until you feel him in your throat, sucking him eagerly. Jimin moans and grips your hair while you pump your head over his length, producing loud suction noises. You just want him to cum as hard and good as he made you.

“Fuck– fuck, Y/N, I’m coming–” he warns in pant, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

You still keep it open, though, sticking your tongue out, as Jimin blows his load on you. You feel his hot seed dripping on your face, feel it on your lips and tongue. You patiently wait until he’s milked dry. Then, you open your eyes.

Jimin’s hair is an absolute mess. He’s all sweaty, panting heavily, face flushed, shaking slightly; you’ve never seen him look so glorious.

He opens a tired smirk.

And, with your gaze locked with his, you lick your lips and swallow.

It’s like he came again just seeing you do this.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

It is your turn to chuckle.

Yeah.

Maybe you will.

You let cum drip on a million dollar necklace.

#bts #jimin x reader #park jimin #jimin smut #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #jimin x you #jimin fanfic #jimin imagine #bts imagine

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norrisleclercf1 · 1 year

Text

Spoiled

Pairing: Lance Stroll x Alonso!Reader

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Fluff, Lance is the perfect bf, slight smut tease

Requested: Yes/No

Request: Hello!! Don’t know if I’m too late for requests, but I’ve been really dumping to read something about Lance dating Fernando’s sister now that they’re teammates🙊

A/N: listen, I’m still learning how to write for Lance, soooo probably not my best work, but it is what it is

Growing up with Lance was weird. Your brother was close to his father, but you were closer to Lance due to the age gap between you and your brother. Most people would just assume that you and Lance were siblings if Fernando took ya'll out for the day, it took some getting used to, but after a while, no one cared if they thought Fernando was your dad or something.

Lance was always there at the races, so you always hung out with one another, especially when it came to Fernando racing or his father buying tickets for yall to go. Lance was more a friend than a sibling, and Fernando looked out for Lance, even advising him to better his Karting. Lance was traveling more as you both got older, and you had to stay in Spain for more prolonged periods, too, since school was ramping up. Losing contact for a couple of years was rough on Lance. You both are thick as thieves, and it was difficult to pick up the phone and talk, but thankfully you graduated, and Lance was now in F1.

With you coming to watch your brother during your breaks at Uni, you ran into Lance, and that feeling like you were home never left. With both of you being grown up, things had changed. Lance wasn't that lanky, shy boy who would follow you like a puppy. He was now this confident, successful man who was still that comfort you needed. Falling for one another was like breathing air. It came naturally and felt right.

You made the first move since Lance kept to himself, but it didn't stop him from letting you know how he felt. He just didn't want to make things uncomfortable. Remembering that night, you asked him always makes you smile. He had his signature goofy smile and warm brown eyes so full of hope and love for you, you couldn't help but kiss him then.

You didn't out your relationship but weren't necessarily hiding it from people. Lance's family was very welcoming to you, but you grew up with each other, and Lance's mother called it years ago when Lance was following you everywhere. Your brother found out about your relationship when he announced one night during a dinner with both families that he would be driving for Aston Martin. At that point, you and Lance had been together for 2 years.

"I would like to thank the Strolls for giving me this opportunity and for the fact that Lance now has an excuse to see my sister." Fernando laughs after his toast, but everyone just looks around, confused.

"Darling, you know your sister and Lance have been dating for 2 years, right?" Your mother asks while Fernando looks between the two of you.

"What? No, they're not." He scuffs, waving off the idea before he freezes, remembering something.

"Oi, la noche que llegaste a casa ... ¿Desordenado estabas con él?" (Oi, the night you came home... Messy, were you with him?) Fernando asks in Spanish, not wanting to embarrass you in front of the others. You can see the wheels of anger working in his brain as you think of the best thing to say to calm this.

"Hermano, lo amo. Me ha tratado con nada más que respeto y me cuida muy bien." (Brother, I love him. He's treated me with nothing but respect and he takes very good care of me.) You plead with your brother but he just scuffs and stares down Lance who just sits and watches, knowing better than to get between the two siblings.

"You hurt her, and I'll break every fucking bone in your body." Fernando hisses, causing Lance to squirm slightly, but he nods and laces his fingers with yours. Dinner finished with no problems; your parents' drug Fernando away from you two as you walked through Northamptonshire, enjoying the chilly breeze and quietness of the town.

"I love you too," Lance whispers, kissing your cheek and making you smile.

"What was that for?" You ask. Lance might be a softy and spoil you rotten, but he isn't one that randomly says I love you.

"What you told your brother about loving me and how I treat and care for you. I'm saying it back. I love you." He tugs your hand, stopping you, so you look at him.

"You knew what I said?" You gasped, wanting to hide as you weren't openly affectionate. You more so did than told your love.

"Of course, I learned Spanish for you after we turned 16." He admits shrugging his shoulders and pulling you slightly, getting you walking again.

"Lance," You whisper, stopping, you pull him back towards you, making him waver slightly, but he steadies himself quickly, hands finding their usual place on your hips.

You don't care if you're in public; honestly, it's late, and you want to do nothing more than kiss your boyfriend. You lean in, kissing him gently; he stiffens but soon relaxes. His grip tightens on your waist as he pulls you closer. He can't help himself as he gets lost in your taste and smells hands moving away from your waist and to your ass, not even caring as he squeezes it tight.

"Lance." You whimper against his lips, fingers scratching the back of his neck in the way he loves. The groan that leaves his mouth sends your brain buzzing, unable to form thoughts other than him.

"Baby, wait, hold on." He mumbles, pulling away as you bite his bottom lip and suck on it. "Fuck." He groans, almost losing himself in you again.

"The car." He breathes, kissing your forehead and ensuring no one sees you both.

Lance was very protective of you simply because you both have seen the hate that women close to F1 get, and he'd honestly rip anyone to shreds if they so much as did that to you. Guiding you to the car, he kisses you one last time before hopping into the driver's seat. You sit back and stare at Lance as he drives through town and heads home.

You moved in with Lance about 5 months ago, and really thinking about it, your brother should've been able to tell that you both were dating, but he was clueless. The drive was quiet except for soft kisses on each other hands and the sound of the blinker as Lance drove home. Arriving home, Lance bolts to your door, never letting you open your door in front of him, it always made you giggle, but he wanted to treat you properly.

Lance pulls you into his chest, hugging you as he pushes the button for the elevator leaving feather-light kisses on your forehead and neck occasionally. The door dings open, putting you in your living room, but you stop walking, causing Lance to trip over you.

The hallway and room it's lined with your favorite flowers, candies, and boxes that look like jewelry. You look at Lance, who's blushing up a storm and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Everything I saw, you'd love so....I bought everything." He admits as you just sigh and kiss his cheek. You don't argue about him buying you stuff because he won't stop, so why fight about it. But, you know, one way to get back at him.

You walk over to one of the jewelry boxes and open it. A stunning emerald choker lays there, almost the exact color of Aston Martin.

"Lance, I'm wearing this to bed. And only this." You smile, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway.

"Damn, I do love spoiling you." He groans, your laughter bouncing off the walls as he kicks the door closed. Like you said, he doesn't like anyone else seeing you.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 fandom #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #formula one #Lance stroll #lance stroll imagine #Lance imagine #Lance scenario #aston martin #f1 smut #f1 imagines #aston martin f1 #f1 one shot #f1 fluff

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odetodilfs · 11 months

Text

Decisions

A/N: here's the Oberyn fanfic I promised to make for pride month, this was so amazing to write and it's also my first time working with sub!Oberyn rather than your typical, dominant one.

Pairing: sub!bottom!Oberyn Martell x dom!top!male!reader

Warnings: SMUT, Light bondage, rough sex, ass eating but just a little bit (reader giving), begging, breeding, established relationship (marriage), hickeys, spit as lube (and kind of manhandling?).

Summary: Who knew an argument over what color the flowers at the dining table for guests could turn out so hot?

(Please reblog if you liked this, support your writers!)

“Oberyn, the flowers outside should be purple, they give a less… contrasting image to the wooden table!” you protested, it was funny really, how you two as kings bickered more over extremely trivial things such as what color the flowers would be on the table for when you invited guests. “But the yellow is more fearless, you know what I mean?” he defiantly asked, “God- purple and brown go better together…” you kept trying to argue your point,

“Well-” you cut Oberyn off, “Well nothing! It’s useless that we have a fight over some flowers” you crossed your arms

“Okay… I challenge you to a fight, whoever wins gets to pick” he smirked at you, you liked the idea, your husband was a good fighter, but maybe you could win this once, “No swords, of course” he laughed,

“Fine, I’ll fight with you” and you both got ready to fight.

You immediately grabbed onto him, you had done this in the past, whoever pinned the other one down and counted to 5 first would win, now.. normally you lost, so the odds were against you. You managed to grab his hand and pinched it slightly, causing him to yell out in pain, you took the chance and pushed him towards your bed, both of you landing on your knees as you continued trying to overpower the other. Lucky for you, Oberyn had muscle soreness from yesterday’s training so he was slightly weaker. When he grabbed you, you strongly gripped his hands and held them together on your own, pushing him down on his back, “One,” you said, his struggling face gave away that he was not eager to lose, “Two” he fought more and more but your grasp was too strong. “Three” his movements were starting to weaken and he was starting to face the fact he was losing “Four, five” you let go of his hands now that he was lost, he was breathing heavily from the effort, all sweaty.. and so were you, but the way his legs were open… you were starting to get ideas, “How about something more.. it’s my first time winning against you.. I deserve a prize” you smirked, caressing his thigh, Oberyn let out a loud moan… it was one of the few times where the man was submissive, and goddamn was it hot.

You brought a hand to his belt, undoing it and letting his robe fall open, then, you started to lower his pants.. “H-hey- c-careful there!” he whined, he would’ve wanted to fuck if he had won, he was just mad you had control because for the first time you’d won. He was so vulnerable.. perfect to ruin him in revenge for all the times he had done it to you…

You took off his pants and kept his legs wide open, “Please- please have mercy-” Oberyn pleaded. You tied his belt around his hands, immobilizing him as he moaned in pleasure, a weird pleasure of finally having to submit to you. You spit on your cock, and went down to his hole, licking it softly, “Ah~” Oberyn moaned over and over as your tongue roamed the sensitive skin of his hole, taking the chance to lube him up even more, but you were determined to stay down there until he begged for your cock. It was 5 minutes of eating his ass until you heard those pretty words come out of his mouth, “Please- give me your dick- please” he said, in a tone that made it clear he was unfamiliar with begging but also extremely turned on.

“Good boy, begging for me” you smirked, enjoying the feel of the different sensation. You slowly started working your dick inside him, he was so tight, he also squirmed a lot.. he was being a brat. “Stay put” you demanded, and he kept resisting… you realized he was not gonna obey if you were nice, so you took his tied hands and pressed them against the bed with your right hand, “I said stay put” you looked at him in the eyes.

“Shut up and fuck me” he said, with an angry, desperate look on his face, trying to get one last bit of dominance, you started to pound into him, you were doing what he wanted, but you watched as he turned into putty, his whimpers slowly getting louder and louder. You started to stroke his dick, just to tease him, not fast enough to get him closer, “Ah~” he whimpered loudly as you sank fully into him. The sight of him like this was incredibly hot, his gritted teeth in pleasure as his arms were lifted over his head, giving a view of his underarms, his chest muscles, his neck… which you sucked a few hickeys on.

You roughly fucked the man on your bed, enjoying the feeling of having him all to yourself. Dominant King Oberyn Martell, the man who was always strong and proud, turned into this. A moaning mess of a man, getting roughly fucked by his husband on their bed and close to an orgasm, “Ha- ah~ I’m close~” he moaned, finding this extremely hot now… “Be a good boy and cum for me” you demanded, basking in the feeling of being able to call him that, you should definitely turn the tables more often…

Oberyn came with a loud moan, all over himself, his stomach and your body, you just smirked as you kept fucking his prostate into overstimulation, “F-fuck- s-stop..” he weakly moaned, but you were dead set on cumming now. You wanted it inside him, to let the man know he was yours. The overstimulation had his mind clouded, all he could feel was the pleasurable burn of your dick in him. Your thrusts got even rougher and sloppier, until you groaned, “Fuck- Oberyn-” as you spilled your load inside him, not submissively this time, but rather, to claim him.

“Oh my god~” he moaned, his robe still half on, you untied his hands and looked at him, your cum leaking out of his ass, him breathing heavily, hickeys all over his neck and hands still above his head. “Good boy” you kissed him dearly on the lips, like you hadn’t just slutted him out a few minutes ago. “F-fine- the flowers will be purple..” he sighed,

“Good” you smirked, spooning him as a feeble apology for your roughness.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x male reader #oberyn martel x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal characters #gay #x male reader #top male reader #sub oberyn

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celestiababie · 1 year

Text

Stay At Home Husband! Mingyu Part 3...

Pairings: Stay at home husband! Mingyu x fem! reader

Genre: Smut with plot, fluff, hint of angst (nothing too bad I promise)

Warnings: Cursing, talks of traditional gender roles :/, getting cockblocked multiple times (once by your daughter), fingering (m), pegging, cum eating, use of the word slut once, reader can't cook in this. Let me know if I need to add anything else

Word Count: 7.255k (this is the longest thing I've posted oof—)

Summary: You try and find ways to give back to your loving husband...with a few trial and error.

A/N: Here's part 3 of this wonderful saga. I had so much fun writing this and I'm actually proud of it which is a weird feeling. I hope it doesn't disappoint those who wanted a third part! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Credit to the anon who gave me an idea for part of this fic!

Series Masterlist

Y/DN = Your daughter's name...I didn't want to just make up a name everyone hated pfft

Ever since your previous rendezvous a few days ago with your husband, he noticed something different about you—or rather: how you were treating him.

You've always been a fantastic wife. He couldn't ask for a better woman to marry, but there were very distinct roles in the relationship that kept him comfortable and at peace. He found purpose in cooking breakfast every morning for you and your beautiful daughter, which is why it surprised him to wake up one morning with a noticeable absence on your side of the bed. The smell of pancakes and bacon confused his brain, making him question if he was dreaming.

But all his dreams included you, so that couldn't have been it.

He made his way to the kitchen, still groggy from waking up. He rubbed his eyes as his eyes suddenly came into focus on your figure, scrambling around the kitchen with a look of frustration on your face.

This wasn't right—cooking breakfast was his job.

Your head raises upon hearing the clearing of his throat, too focused on your terribly made pancakes to notice your half-naked husband standing by the archway. You bite your lip in embarrassment as your husband comes around the kitchen island to examine your creation.

"What are you doing?"

His question causes a pout on your face, his eyes flickering down to your lips, holding back from kissing you since he hadn't brushed his teeth yet.

"Well, since it's my day off...I thought I could make breakfast for you and Y/DN, but they stuck to the pan, and I tried to scrape it off...but! At least we have scrambled pancakes now!" You hope your smile distracts him from the abomination you plated, but to your disappointment, it hadn't.

A noticeable frown forms on Mingyu's face, his eyes drifting off with an unreadable expression.

Oh God, he's gonna divorce me over pancakes.

You curse at yourself as you let your head fall into your hands.

"I'm a terrible wife— I can't even cook one good thing for my husband." You huff into your hands, and another wave of embarrassment runs through your body.

Mingyu's attention quickly turns to you again, letting your words sink in. That wasn't remotely why he felt a little bit upset.

Mingyu loved cooking for you and Y/DN. He was perfectly content with the dynamic you two had. You went to work while he stayed home, taking care of the house and Y/DN. That's how it's always been. But ever since that night in the living room, Mingyu noticed you doing more things around the house. Things that were his job. He couldn't help but feel a little sad and empty, feeling like he was no longer pulling his weight in the relationship.

"You don't need to cook, Y/N. I cook for you, I've always cooked for you, and I love cooking for you," he firmly states with a soft voice, his hands moving to rub up and down your shoulders.

"I know, but I just want to do something nice for once. You always do so much for me, and I never get to do something back."

Your head rose from your hands. A pout still lingers on your lips.

"Is that why you've been doing the dishes lately? And taking out the trash? And cleaning? And doing the laundry?" He asked with a loving gaze, his hands reaching up to cup your face in his warm palms.

You slowly nod as you avoid his eyes, his stare making you feel shy even after years of marriage.

Mingyu briefly smiles at you before dipping his head to press his lips against your forehead. Mingyu lifts you onto the counter, standing between your legs, and he interlocks your hands with his.

" Although I appreciate you wanting to do things for me. I really appreciate the thought. You don't have to take care of the house to take care of me and show me how much you appreciate everything I do. Maybe for other people, those things would feel like tedious chores, but for me, it's nice? I like taking care of the house. And I like making sure you and Y/DN are comfortable. Please don't take that away from me, okay?"

"I'm sorry...I just wanted to be a good wife," you whisper. Before your head can fall to look at your lap, one of Mingyu's hands tilt your chin upwards, forcing you to look at him in his soft coffee-colored eyes.

"You don't have to do all those things to be a good wife or mom. You do plenty to provide for Y/DN and I. Do you think I'm a bad husband for staying home?"

Your eyes widen from his question, emotions flaring up despite knowing he didn't actually think you thought he was a shitty husband.

"Of course not! You're the best husband in the world." You softly hit his chest, feigning offense that he would even ask such a thing.

A proud smile creeps on Mingyu's face, his teeth pressing down in his bottom teeth in an attempt to hide his inflated ego.

"Good. Now let me remake breakfast before our little angel wakes up. And if you really wanna give back so bad, I'm sure we can find other ways that don't include you stealing my precious job," he chuckles out as he turns away from you, setting your abomination aside as he begins to make breakfast as usual.

You playfully glare at the back of his head before a smirk replaces your previous pout. As your eyes scan Mingyu's half-naked figure, they soon place their attention on Mingyu's ass in his boxers, reminding you of your husband's question from a few nights ago.

Admittedly, you had no clue what pegging was when he asked, causing your husband to say a simple 'oh—never mind then.' before dozing off to sleep. But you didn't forget and did some research to know exactly what your husband was into.

And, fuck��was the idea hot.

You slide off the counter and wrap your arms around Mingyu's waist as he cooks, your head resting against his toned back. You slide your hands down his waist, causing Mingyu to tense against you as he feels your hands suddenly cop a feel of his ass.

"Something like fucking you after all these years of fucking me so well? Would that be a good way of giving back, baby?"

Mingyu's breath hitches, a blush forming on his cheeks as he listens to you. He turns his head ever so slightly, giving you a surprised look.

"You said you didn't know what it was—"

Biting your lip, you squeeze his ass before pulling away completely, making your way out of the kitchen, but not before saying, "I didn't, but I do now. Finish up breakfast. I'll wake up Y/D."

You flash him a wink as you sway your hips more than usual, leaving him as flustered as he usually made you.

The next couple of your days were spent with your eyes practically glued to your phone, researching all the best ways to peg your husband. You were woman enough to admit that you lacked expertise in this field, and the last thing you wanted was for Mingyu to have a bad experience because you didn't know what the fuck you were doing.

After spending a generous amount of time searching the Internet for information and ordering a few toys, you felt confident enough to finally put your newfound knowledge into full use, ready to give your husband the most mind-blowing orgasm he's ever had.

Operation: peg your husband was in full effect and running smoothly...

Mingyu's face lit up with pure excitement when you whispered into his ear at dinner all of the dirty things you wanted to do to him while your daughter struggled to use her spoon.

You ignore Mingyu's stare at the side of your face as you reach over to help your daughter eat her food, her adorable smile of gratitude taking your mind off of Mingyu, who was still staring at you with an expression that could only be described as pure desire.

Once your daughter finally got the hang of using her spoon, you lean back into your seat, turning to look at your husband, who hasn't touched his plate since.

"What's wrong? Does Daddy need Mommy's help too?" You smirk as your husband's eyes darken, his pupils blown out as he clenches his fist underneath the table.

The sound of Y/DN's laughter brings the both of you back to reality, reminding you that you shouldn't, in fact, be undressing each other with your eyes right in front of your unknowing daughter.

"Daddy, look! I can eat better than you," your daughter giggles out, reminiscent of Mingyu's laugh, as she raises a spoonful of food to her mouth to prove her point.

Operation: peg your husband was still running according to plan.

After Mingyu cleaned up all the dishes, you read your daughter to sleep alone this time, your husband too busy taking a longer-than-usual shower to get himself all prepped for you. You silently praise your daughter for being a fast sleeper, just like her father.

With your daughter peacefully tucked into bed, the stuffed bear in her arm keeping her company, and the night light shining bright to keep monsters away, you quietly sneak out of her room to make your way toward the master bedroom.

The sound of the shower running is the first thing you're greeted with as you open the door. Wanting to give Mingyu an additional surprise, you quickly change into his favorite pair of red lingerie that fit your body like a glove, hugging all the parts that made Mingyu drool.

You saunter towards one of the bedside tables, grabbing everything you planned on using for the night.

Upon hearing the shower suddenly stop, you scrambled onto the bed, adjusting your bra one last time as you waited for Mingyu to exit the bathroom.

He nearly jumps out of his skin as he spots your body on the bed, clutching his poor heart.

"Fuck sake— I didn't even hear you come in..." He decreases in volume with each word that leaves his lips, his brain trying to take in how fucking sexy you looked.

Red always was his favorite color.

You bite your lip as your eyes trail down his bare chest, all the way down to his v-line, the towel loosely wrapped around his hips leaving very little to the imagination. You'd always love your husband no matter what he looked like. But, you did appreciate how easy on the eyes he was. Long gone was the rowdy yet kind, naive boy you met in your second year of college. Mingyu was now a well-rounded adult who seemed to grow into his looks year after year, aging like the most decadent fine wine.

With a single finger, you beckon Mingyu to you, his towel dropping as he moves to climb on top of you. His lips instantly found yours, pressing them against yours in sync that was perfected over the years. A soft moan gets muffled as Mingyu's hardening cock presses against your stomach. As his lips left open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down your neck, and over your collarbones, his hips grind his thick cock against you.

His desire for you was evident, but you couldn't allow yourself to get distracted away from what you wanted to do for Mingyu. As much as you loved how his hips and mouth movement felt so natural, it was time to try something new.

" Baby, this isn't a part of my plan. I'm the one on top tonight," you coo out, hands pushing your husband off of you and onto his back with little resistance. Mingyu was a big guy, much stronger than you, which is why the lack of pushback confused you. But with a single look at the desperate look on Mingyu's face, his lustful eyes staring deep into yours, you could tell Mingyu was too horny to have any control over his own body.

"You still want this, pretty boy?" You drag your nails down Mingyu's chest, causing his whole body to shudder at the feeling. He licked over his lip, nodding his head a few times without a hint of hesitation. He wanted it so bad. He's secretly fantasized about playing with his ass but was always too focused on your needs to bring it up and too nervous to try it on himself. But tonight, Mingyu had complete trust in you.

"Please, fuck me," he lets out with a heavy breath, his hips squirming against the bed as his anticipation starts to get the best of him.

A single chuckle from your lips causes his cock to twitch, something about the sound turning on even more. You found it somewhat amusing that Mingyu, your strong 6' foot 2" husband, was begging you to fuck his tight little ass.

"Come on, baby, you know I can't fuck you just yet...I gotta make sure you're all stretched out for me so you can take it like a good boy," you tease as your hand trails lower and lower, nails grazing down his shaft before rubbing underneath his balls. Instantly, your actions elicit a positive response, Mingyu's hips bucking against you as his head sinks into the pillows beneath him.

"Such a pretty boy— Spread your legs for me?" Your soft tone eases any nerves that start to build in the pit of Mingyu's stomach, his legs spreading slightly. You shake your head and guide him to spread his legs a bit more, pushing them until his feet are planted firmly on the bed.

"Just relax for me, Mingyu. I promise I'll take good care of you," you whisper as you lean forward to kiss up his stomach and chest, the man underneath you sighing in pleasure.

Reaching to the side, you grab the bottle of lube you grabbed earlier from the bedside table. You lean back as you playfully wave the bottle in front of Mingyu, a soft chuckle rumbling out of him.

"Let's go over a few things, okay?"

Mingyu nods, mumbling an 'okay' as he waits for you to continue.

"Tell me if you ever need to stop or take a break for whatever reason, tell me immediately. I want you to have a good time, and if you're not, I don't want you to force yourself to continue. I need you to tell me how you feel when I ask. And if you need me to change how I'm doing it, I'll go as slow, fast, hard, and deep as you want me to, but I can't read your mind, so you need to speak up. Got it?"

Mingyu canines sink into his plush bottom lip, biting back a smile from the authority in your voice.

"Understood, baby. And if you're uncomfortable with anything, you better tell me too. I know you're doing this for me, but I don't want you to feel weirded out by anything. We'll stop if either one of us isn't feeling it."

Mingyu briefly sits up to press a long kiss to your lips, not just out of lust but out of love. He lays back down, nuzzling his head deeper into the pillows as he watches you closely for your following movements.

With a deep breath, you pop off the cap of the bottle of lube, squeezing out a more than generous amount onto your finger. It was better to be safe than sorry. You rub the glob of lube between your thumb and two fingers, warming it up so it wouldn't startle Mingyu as your press your fingers against his tight hole, rubbing over it in slow circles.

Your eyes flicker to your husband's face, catching the way his eyes flutter close, his entire body sinking further into the bed. He had no idea how good he looked right now.

Your other hand rubs over one of his toned thighs before a question leaves your lips.

"Feels good?"

You knew it did, you could tell by the look on his face and the way his cock seemed to twitch with every rub of your fingers, but you wanted to hear the words come out of his mouth.

"Mhm— so good, baby. Can't wait for you to fuck me," he sighed, his hips starting to move against his finger, showing you how badly he wanted it.

"Yeah? You think you're ready for a finger?"

You let out a laugh as your husband nods his head against the pillows, the furrow of his brows showing that he was starting to get impatient.

You allow your eyes to focus on where your fingers meet his ass, your mind running through all the information you read online before mustering up the courage to press a single finger against the puckered hole, the lube aiding you as you the tip of your finger sinks into him slowly. Mingyu shifts a bit at the new and slightly uncomfortable feeling of your finger inserting into him. It didn't feel terrible, and he didn't want to stop yet, but it was definitely weird.

The face of discomfort on Mingyu causes you to stop your finger from going any deeper, a look of concern now written on your face.

"Need me to stop?"

Mingyu quickly shakes his head, smiling at how attentive you're being.

"No, I'm good. I promise. It's just weird. I'm fine. You can continue, baby."

You allow yourself to trust his words, your finger sliding into him almost all the way before halting again. Mingyu lets out a deep exhale as he tries to adjust to the feeling. After the initial wave of discomfort, Mingyu had to be honest with himself...it didn't really feel like much. He could tell your finger was inside of him, but there was no pleasure.

"Still good, Mingyu?"

Okay, you've got this. Just 2 inches deep, down to the first knuckle. Now all you gotta do is curl your finger up a bit.

"Yeah, I'm good. It does really feel like anything, to be honest with— holy shit, fuck, oh my god."

Mingyu's words abruptly cut off with a string of profanities, his back arching off the bed as you curl your finger just as you read online, nudging against his prostate. It was unlike anything he's ever felt before, his body losing control over itself as a sudden shock of pleasure moved throughout his entire body.

"Shit—are you okay? Should I stop?" You ask in a panic, not realizing your husband's strong reaction wasn't out of pain; it was out of pure pleasure.

Mingyu lets out a whimper as his eyes open to look at you, shaking his head as his hands move to grip the bed sheets.

"No, don't stop. Fuck—it felt so good, baby. Please, please, please do it again. Keep going, please," he begs, desperate for more.

You feel a heat run through your body when you realize how much Mingyu had enjoyed what you did, arousal soaking into your panties. You rub over his stomach as you curl your finger upwards again, causing another strong reaction from Mingyu.

Biting your lip, you began to move your finger in a come hither motion. Mingyu's mouth drops as whines and whimpers leave his lips before he can stop them. His eyes roll to the back of his head as his knuckles turn white from how hard he gripped the sheets. Precum leaks out of his cock, enough for Mingyu to nearly convince himself that he was cumming already.

"Look at you, baby, taking my finger so fucking well. You're so tight, Mingyu. How am I ever gonna fit another finger, let alone a cock, inside you?" You tease, watching your husband fall apart underneath you all from a single finger inside of him.

Mingyu pants, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tries to register what you're saying, too fucked out already to focus on anything other than what he felt.

" Finger—a-another one, p-please," Mingyu practically sobs out. It was safe to say this was the best thing Mingyu had ever experienced. Mingyu absolutely loved fucking you and the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his cock, but this was different. A different kind of pleasure. Something so intense it was almost unbearable.

You dip a second finger into Mingyu's hole as he wishes, stretching him out further than before. You continue your curling motions, the feeling somehow more intense than before. Mingyu's moans grew in volume, a familiar but different feeling forming in his stomach, getting stronger with each push of your fingers.

Mingyu felt lightheaded in the best way possible, his brain turning into mush as he allowed himself to fully immerse himself in the incredible feeling.

"M' gonna c-cum—fuck, s' close," he slurs, his eyes rolling again as he feels his biggest orgasm yet getting ready to burst out of him.

" Yeah, baby? I haven't even touched your cock yet." You were amazed at how much pleasure Mingyu was getting out of this and a bit proud of yourself for being the one giving it to him.

All he needed was a few more good pumps of your fingers.

A little bit more.

Just a bit more.

Knock knock knock—

"Mommy? Daddy?"

The sudden sound of a soft knocking and your daughter's soft voice behind the door takes you out of the moment. You curse under your breath as you pull your fingers out of Mingyu, a whimper leaving his lips from the sudden emptiness, the feeling of release getting ripped away from him. You felt bad, you really did, but you couldn't exactly ignore your daughter, who sounded upset from behind the door.

"I'm so sorry, Mingyu. Let me just check what she needs—"

"I-It's okay, just check on her," he pants out, slowly coming down from the feeling of his almost orgasm. Yes, he was frustrated from the sudden stop, but the guilt of feeling frustrated towards his daughter was instant karma, the feeling turning him off completely.

You quickly wash your hands in the bathroom, grabbing a robe to cover your lingerie-clad body. Mingyu covers his body with a blanket as you open the door, bending down to hug your sniffling daughter.

"What's wrong, princess?"

"H-had a n-nightmare," she hiccups, hugging your body as tight as her little arms would allow her. You turn your head to flash an apologetic smile at your husband as your daughter cries in your arms.

Operation: Peg your husband did not go as smoothly as you had hoped.

It was beginning to seem as if the world, some unknown force, had a vendetta against you fucking your husband in the ass. Nothing seemed to be going your way.

For starters, your work was very demanding, with additional hours to your schedule, which left you mentally and physically exhausted by the time you got home. The pay was generous, but it wasn't worth the time it stripped away from you. The time you could be spending with Y/DN and Mingyu. The time you could be spending fucking the brains out of Mingyu.

Then, you got sick. Maybe it was the exhaustion your body was being put through. Or maybe, it was just because cold and flu season was rolling around. Either way, you got fucking sick, which meant staying in bed all day, using up your precious sick days.

Then, just as you recovered, for the most part, Y/DN got sick as well, leaving you and Mingyu to take care of your little princess until she felt all better.

It was safe to say that Operation: peg your husband was put on the back burner.

Mingyu hadn't complained once. Not when he worked extra hard to prep your meals for your long days at work. Not when he'd run you a bath and give you a nice shoulder rub before you passed out. Not when he took care of you when you were sick. Not when he took care of your daughter.

It frustrated you that you couldn't take care of your husband. Either he ignored his wants, or there simply was no time to tend to them. But, you weren't gonna let this stop you. If anything, the past few weeks were only fueling your determination, ready to pounce on your husband at any given moment.

However, you were more sophisticated than that (not really) and devised a new plan to get into Mingyu's pants.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you feel Mingyu's loving hands rub your sore shoulders as he sits behind the bubble bath he prepared for you. Although Mingyu hated seeing how exhausted you've been, getting extra worried, especially after you were sick, he did enjoy the night routine you two had nowadays. You didn't eat dinner with Y/DN and him, but he did spend time with you, helping you unwind.

You raise a hand out of the bath to cover one of Mingyu's before interlocking your fingers, bringing his hand up to your mouth to press a few kisses to his skin.

"That tickles, Y/N," he giggles, trying to pull his hand out of your grasp, but you didn't let your husband escape. Not when you had to let him know what you planned out.

"I have the weekend off...so we get to spend time together tomorrow."

Mingyu smirks at the suggestive tone in your voice, leaning forward to rest his chin on the bathtub.

"Yeah? And Sunday?"

"Mhm, and Sunday. And I know how much your parents have been dying to see Y/DN recently, so I may have told them that she could stay at their place for the weekend. They seemed happy about it."

Mingyu's smirk only grew wider as you spoke. He lifts his head and slowly drags his hands along your shoulders and down to your breasts, submerged in the water.

"We get the whole place to ourselves?" You can hear the excitement dripping from his voice, biting your lips as he squeezes your tits.

"That's right, baby. We have unfinished business to tend to. I still haven't fucked your pretty ass yet. They'll be here to pick her up around 1 pm"

Mingyu lets out a sigh as his mind drifts off to the night you fingered him. Although he didn't cum, the feeling of your fingers was incredible, and it only made Mingyu want more.

It was safe to say that your little operation was back. This time, you were gonna make sure your husband came.

You smile brightly as your daughter waves goodbye to you and Mingyu.

"We love you! Be good to Grandma and Grandpa, okay?" Your husband calls out to her as she gets further away, her hand tightly grasping your mother-in-law's hand.

Y/DN turns her head to nod at Mingyu, letting go of her grandmother's hand to hold her arms over her head in a heart shape before she's placed in the car and off for the rest of the weekend.

Once the car is out of sight, you turn your heels to face Mingyu with a devious smirk.

"Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

Mingyu scoops you up in his arms as he eagerly brings you into the house, kicking the front door behind him closed. He carries you up the stairs, nearly tripping as you kiss along the side of his neck, your hands roaming across his torso and tugging at the shirt he wore. Luckily, the two of you make it to the bedroom in one piece, your husband's clumsiness not interrupting what you both were craving.

Mingyu was buzzed with excitement since this morning, touchier than usual as he waited to have you all for himself. He planned ahead, taking time to prep himself when he took a shower this morning, so there was no time wasted today. There was nothing more that Mingyu wanted other than a glimpse of the feeling he had last time.

You two touch and grope at each other feverishly, and you strip each other of all of your clothes. You momentarily gawk at your husband's naked body. Sure, you saw him undress all the time, but you were too busy to appreciate your husband's body. You wanted him to know how sexy he truly was.

Mingyu let out a moan as you kiss his chest, bending down slightly to lick up his abs, his knees almost buckling at the feeling.

"Lay down for me, Mingyu," you breathe out, your voice low and seductive, so sexy that any man would listen to you. And he does.

Mingyu lays on the bed like last time, but this time having his feet planted on the bed without your guidance.

You feel a tingle shoot to your core as you hungrily gaze at your husband in full display before you. You crawl between his legs, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you hold yourself up with the other.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this, my pretty boy. How many times I've thought about bending you over the counter whenever you made breakfast and making your pretty ass mine," you breathe out before dipping your head to kiss along his neck and collarbones, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Mingyu's cock twitches beneath you as he moans from the feeling of your lips marking his skin.

"My ass is already yours— always has been, baby," he laughs. His hands grip your waist as you continue to kiss his skin, making your way up to his ear to give it soft nibbles.

"Yeah? All mine, baby? You're gonna let me stretch you out like last time?" You whisper in his ear, your voice making his cock twitch again.

Mingyu nods, his hips bucking upwards to rub his cock against you.

"So hard, and I've barely done anything yet. I don't think you're gonna last very long, Gyu," you tease as you lean back, taking Mingyu's cock in your hand to toy with his tip, a single bead of precum leaking out of him.

"I-I've been saving myself for you. I haven't even touched myself since," Mingyu admits as he squirms from the attention to his sensitive tip. You raise an eyebrow at your husband, shocked at the fact that he hasn't had an orgasm in so long.

"Poor baby probably has so much backed-up cum. I bet you're gonna make a fucking mess tonight. Gonna cover yourself in all your cum when I fuck your ass," you pout at him, feigning sympathy, which only makes another bead of precum drip out of him.

You let go of Mingyu's aching cock to reach into the bedside table, pulling out the same bottle of lube as last time. You follow the same steps as last time, rubbing the lube between your fingers and rubbing it along his hole in slow circles.

The speed of your actions was agonizing for Mingyu, his head throwing back as he groaned in frustration.

"Fuck—just put it in already, please."

You giggle at your husband's lack of patience but decide to give him what he wants, sliding two fingers in, causing him to sigh in relief.

"I finger you once, and all of a sudden, you're acting like a slut who can handle more. Don't get too ahead of yourself, Mingyu."

Before Mingyu can respond, a loud moan rumbles out of him, his head pushing against the pillows as his back arches off the bed when you curl your fingers just like last time, hitting his prostate with damn near perfect precision.

"Shit— so fucking good," he moans out, his eyes shut as your fingers prod against his prostate over and over.

Like last time, his cock leaks precum, pooling on his stomach.

You coo praises as your other hand slowly rubs his shaft, your fingers still working inside of him. Mingyu lets out a string of moans mixed with a few curses that slip out of him, his brain foggy from all of the pleasure.

The tight feeling in his stomach causes him to snap his eyes open, his hands darting down to push yours away from him in a hurry.

"Shit—did I do something wrong? Is everything okay, Mingyu?" You panic as you immediately take your hand off his cock and slowly pull out your fingers. You watch as Mingyu pants, licking over his lips before responding.

"I'm g-great—more than great, baby. I didn't want to cum before you got to fuck me," he breathes out, a rosy hue covering his face and chest. Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, noticing it sticking to his forehead.

A deep sigh leaves your lips, relieved that nothing's wrong. You run your hands over Mingyu's thighs as you lean over to press a kiss to his lips, his head lifting from the bed to chase after your lips when you pull away too soon.

"Stay right here, baby," you whisper to him as you get off the bed. Mingyu stares at the ceiling. Sounds of you shuffling around in the bathroom are the only thing heard, along with his heavy breaths. Mingyu turns his head to look at the closed bathroom door, worried about how long you were taking.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"I'll be out in a minute!" Your voice calls out from behind the door as you adjust the strap-on, ensuring it's perfectly secured. You had a few toys of your own that were compatible with most strap-ons but were probably too big of a jump for Mingyu, who only knew what two of your fingers felt like. You were used to having Mingyu's thick cock in you, but Mingyu wouldn't be able to handle one close to his size just yet.

So, you opted for this one. A solid black one that was soft to the touch, curved at the end, came with its own strap and was a decent length and thickness for a beginner.

You turn to look at yourself in the mirror, straightening your back with newfound confidence before you exit the bathroom.

Mingyu's eyes quickly find your figure walking towards him, his eyes catching the toy that was now strapped onto you. His cheeks flush as he bites his lip, trying to hide his excitement as you crawl onto the bed. You bite back a smile of your own as you spread your husband's legs apart further, settling your body in between them.

"Do you want it like this, baby? We can try a different position if you want," you coo out, your fingertips trailing along his inner thighs.

You watch the cogs of Mingyu's brain turn as he thinks about your question. He had done some research himself and knew exactly what he wanted to try first.

"Can I lay on my stomach? I always fuck you like that, so I'm curious what it feels like—and I heard it's a good way to start," your husband shyly asks.

You nod your head with a reassuring smile, helping Mingyu flip onto his stomach, giving you a good look at his ass that you were ready to fuck. You feel arousal drip down your legs as you position yourself over Mingyu. His arms find comfort folding underneath the pillows as he turns his head to the side, waiting for more.

Kisses up his back and your hand rubbing over his ass, occasionally squeezing at it, causing Mingyu to sigh, his hips squirming against the bed, and his cock rubbing against the mattress.

"Fuck—Y/N, don't tease me," he moans out, lifting his hips to push his ass against your loving caresses.

"I'm not teasing you, baby. I'm appreciating you, am I not allowed to appreciate what a nice ass my husband has?" You said it was all mine, right?"

A shaky breath leaves Mingyu's lips as your words manage to turn him on more, his hips lifting once more.

"All yours— but please fuck me already," he whines, his lack of patience evident."

You chuckle softly at your husband's begging but decide to play nice tonight, reaching over to grab the bottle of lube and coating the toy thoroughly. Your hand spreads Mingyu's ass apart, letting some of the lube drip down onto his hole. You set the bottle aside, still holding his ass open so you could line the toy up to his tight hole.

"Now you know how it feels when you tease me, Mingyu."

You slowly push the toy inside of him, the curved end slipping past the tight rim. The toy was undoubtedly thicker than your fingers causing Mingyu to hiss at the new stretch. You do a quick check-in to ensure he's okay, only pushing more of the toy in when your husband gives you the green light.

Mingyu moaned as the tip of the toy nudged against his prostate, the curved tip instantly pressing against it as it slipped inside him. You soothing rub his lower back as you push the toy deeper inside of him inch by inch, letting him adjust to the new size.

"You're doing so well, baby. I'm almost all the way in. Such a good boy taking my cock," you purr out, shifting your knees on the bed, the toy moving inside of him and drawing out another moan from your husband.

Once you fit all of the toy inside of him, you stop moving, letting Mingyu embrace the full feeling before telling you to start moving.

You slowly start pulling out, your husband moaning at the feeling and letting out an even louder moan when you push your hips forward, the toy nustling deep inside of him. You repeat the same slow thrusts, biting your lips as Mingyu falls apart underneath you.

Mingyu couldn't control the way his body was moving underneath you, squirming at the feeling of the toy repeatedly hitting that spot that made his brain turn to mush. He could tell he could cum from this alone. All the weeks' worth of build-up only made him more sensitive, his body craving a release. He thought it couldn't get any better until you spoke up.

"Should I turn it on now?"

In his fucked out state, his brows furrowed, confused as to what you were talking about.

"T-turn it on? Turn what—" he turns speechless, his mouth falling open as a high-pitched moan escapes him, his eyes rolling back to his skull as he feels a vibration inside of him and hit against his sweet spot.

Oh yeah, and the toy vibrated.

You bite your lips as your eyes scan your husband's frame, more of your arousal dripping down your thighs as he thrashes underneath you from the intense feeling. Precum soaks into the bed as he feels his orgasm building and building with every thrust of your hips. You paid no attention to the tired feeling creeping up on you, your mind too focused on making your husband lose his mind.

"That's it, baby. I bet you can't wait to cum, hm? Gonna make a big mess for me? Maybe we should flip you over so I can watch you cum all over yourself."

Mingyu nods his head to your words, letting out a broken sob when you pull out to help him flip back onto his front. You smile at the glazed look in his eyes and his flushed face, resembling how he looked when he was drunk. But there was no alcohol in his system, the dazed expression on his face a product of the pleasure you were giving him.

You hold Mingyu's legs open with one hand as you line up the vibrating toy up to his hole, pushing into him with ease this time around. Although this wasn't for you necessarily, you enjoyed this position more, loving the way you could watch your husband's eyes roll back, his mouth unable to close as whines and moan of ecstasy left his pretty lips.

You could tell Mingyu was getting close as you thrust the toy into him a bit faster. His breath sped up the closer he got, hands gripping the pillow underneath his head as his entire body shook with the need to cum.

"S' close— fuck! Don't stop, baby. So, so close," he sobs out, his eyes tightly shut as he tries to prepare himself for the orgasm that would come any second now.

Your hand cups his balls, gently fondling them, and that's all Mingyu needs to send him over the edge. You watch in awe as your husband's back arches off the bed, a deep and long moan echoing out of him as thick cum oozes out of his cock, seeming to never end as it pools and drips from his stomach. His whole body shakes uncomfortably, his eyes rolling back as the only thing Mingyu can feel is a warmth shooting throughout his entire body. This was much different than his usual orgasms. The feeling wasn't even remotely the same. You helped him ride out his everlasting orgasm, his body continuing to shake even when he had no more cum left to shoot out.

You turn off the vibrator and slowly bring your movements to a halt when your husband whines about the feeling.

"Too much— too much." His back finally makes contact with the bed again, trying to come down from his high. You stay inside of Mingyu for a few more seconds before slowly guiding the toy out of him, him wincing when the tip grazes his sweet spot.

"You came so much, baby. Made such a pretty mess for me," you coo out, leaning over to swirl your finger in the pool of cum on his stomach.

Mingyu remains silent, still trying to catch his breath, his body convulsing every few seconds from the aftershocks of his orgasm. You lap up some of his cum with your tongue as your husband has just enough energy to grab your face, pulling you up to him so he can taste himself off your lips.

"Have fun?" You ask rhetorically, a dazed chuckle leaving his lips as he opens his eyes to finally look at you, the look of lust in his eye now replaced with love and affection (and tiredness).

"Mhm, thank you, Y/N. I love you," his words come out in a whisper, his voice huskier than usual from all the moaning.

You smile and cup your husband's face, kissing his lips again.

"I love you too. Let's get cleaned up, yeah? I'll make us something to eat."

Mingyu raises an eyebrow at you, not wanting to address the issue with what you just said. You bite your lip as you roll your eyes at him, letting go of his face to run them down his shoulders.

"Fine, I won't cook. But I'll order something for us to eat and just pretend I'm an amazing chef in my head. Is that better?"

Mingyu smiles at you and nods his head, rolling the two of you over to lay face to face on your sides, not paying mind to the cum dripping onto the bed.

"Much better. I wouldn't want to find a way to explain to Y/DN why we have to move out after you set the kitchen on fire."

Your husband shushes your annoyed response with his lips, distracting you from the rude (but believable) words that left his lips.

Damn him and his kissable lips.

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