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missgeniality · 3 years

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Unicorn Ride (m)

“What do men know? Because they have seen no unicorns for a while does not mean we have all vanished.” – Peter S. Beagle

➺ Banner: The amazingly talented @kithtaehyung ❤️

➺ Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to ??, PWP, Non-Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Smut

➺ Rating: +18

➺ Word Count: 8.8k

➺ Summary: Hunting men down at a club is inviting disappointment with open arms. But tonight, your body has been twisted, turned and bent on every possible surface, and you might be willing to reconsider.

➺ Warnings: alcohol, dom!jimin, bratty!Y/N, a very desperate Y/N, making out, biting, light exhibitionism, elevator oral (female), fingering, Y/N tastes herself, some dirty talk, Y/N could have flashed someone at one point, degradation, spanking, Y/N grinds on a knee, Jimin has his tattoo, blowjob, one pussy slap somewhere, throat fucking, spitting, anal fingering, begging, edging, protected sex, rough sex

➺ Author’s Note: It’s here! The reason for my nightmare, THIS PARK JIMIN! This is purely self-indulgent, it has no plot, I wrote the dialogues half asleep, it’s 8000 words of mess in bold and highlight. Thank you to my betas: @taegularities, who not only betaed this but listened to me complain about my writing for weeks, @kithtaehyung, who is always ready to beta and make banners for me whenever I need, even though her plate is more than full with her own work, and @bangtanhome, who jumped by to help me with many details and hyped me up like nobody’s business - I love y’all! Fic starts under the cut, because we’re filthy from the get-go.

This fic is dedicated to @mimikookie for BTS Writers Club’s fic exchange - Bambi, love, cutie, sweetie pie - I hope you enjoy this!! 💛

As always, please let me know what you thought of the fic, my messages and ask box are always open for comments!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

When you stepped into the hotel bar tonight, your aim was to take a mediocre dressed man back home, to use his mediocre working dick to get to a mediocre impact orgasm.

With the sex gods looking out for your deprived soul, you got yourself a classy, impeccably dressed man, with the features of an angel and a tongue of the devil digging deep into your cunt in this elevator, when your rooms could be fifteen steps away; if you ever thought to get out, that is. You couldn’t even wait to get to the safety of your room, the panels of this ornate elevator ask you, mock you, taunt you; but your brain cells refuse to find an answer, shutting off to fully experience the wreckage his mouth is leaving behind.

With your heels in hand, you haul your ass across the hotel lobby, naked feet thwacking against the marble floor. Not one man in the club downtown had the IQ of two peas, studded with the inability to hold a tolerable conversation; the star of this glimmering night being the man who leered “I’d like to push your buttons” while staring down your chest. You need dick, badly, if you may add; but it’s a constant fight between your pussy and your standards. And now here you are, filled with dignity instead of cock.

Your feet lead you to the long row of elevators, and you press the button to summon one to finally haul your ass to bed. But a twinge in you tells you to check the hotel bar; maybe you'll get lucky and find a man to slip your room number to, movie style. Well, let's be real, it's more likely for you to find a fifty-year-old CEO with no qualms on cheating on his wife and fructose fathering your existence, but your blue-balled self will take it. So you turn around, and determinedly march towards the bar, intent on not letting your dignity win the war.

Empty. Well, except for one couple in the corner of the bar seating, who look exceptionally wasted and hitting a base that's far gone from first. Oh well, at least someone is getting it on, you sigh before seating yourself on the barstool. You're here, might as well exploit the bar.

"What's a unicorn margarita?" you ask the bartender. Fuck, even this bartender doesn't look interested. What's the point of a bartender if he's not down to fuck?!

"Tequila, cointreau, lemon and some blueberry syrup," he rattles off from memory, showing no hint of any emotion, making it difficult for you to gauge the side of the spectrum this drink lies in.

You're about to change your order - fuck, if you lead your day further down the dumps - but your response never leaves the confines of your throat as a new member joins your little bar party.

Tinted glasses are what you first see. Who pulls off such glasses anyway? Indoors too? Only this stranger. His suit looks like it was stitched right over his body, not a single extra patch of fabric to mar the stunner outfit with unwanted creases. The only wanted crease you can tell is at his buttoned blazer, cinching to spotlight his svelte waist visible through all the layers.

He struts in, every step he takes echoing a clack across this dreary bar, and every sound straightens your spine further and further in sheer anticipation to see him up close. Shoulders swinging, he walks in like he knows he owns the world, and that you don't know about; he definitely owns a couple of things in you.

His hair, a whole crime. Streaks of pink and purple streaming through his lush platinum tufts, refusing to fall out of place even as he drags his fingers through them and brushes them behind, and you're almost ready to drool and bark at him like a ravenous dog; but he does the sin of meeting your eyes - a questioning glance, slated eyes and raised eyebrows.

God, that's a seat for your face.

"Hello? Ma'am? You want the unicorn margarita?"

"Uhm, yea-yeah, sure." And you move your eyes back to the cotton candy across the bar.

Apart from your neurons not firing off and the general state of mind where you would say yes to close to anything for this man, you're curious to see what this bar could do to make or break the classic drink. One sip in, you can tell it's the latter; the blueberry syrup added for color has a sickening sweetness you can’t digest.

Across the bar, you see him holding the same multicolored drink in hand, his pretty face scrunched up in distaste as he mirrors your feelings. Your eyes meet, and he smiles when he sees your glass.

“A mistake if I ever made one,” he calls out to you, and you grin in reply. Fuck it, even if you can't get laid, you definitely can't make it through this drink alone. Stepping off of your bar stool, you make your way to him.

“Are you looking for some company? Preferably people drowning in similar miseries?”

“Aren’t you dramatic,” he welcomes you with that godsend voice of his, as you take your throne beside this gorgeous specimen. As he sips that cursed drink, his beautiful face crinkles once again in anguish. “You know what? I take that back. Hundred percent valid, your thoughts.” You laugh out loud as you gulp your drink down in one go, not wanting to elongate your time spent with the pitiful excuse of a cocktail.

“Jimin," he begins to offer his introduction, "I buy drinks to match my hair. What’s your excuse?”

"Y/N. I have a pitiful amount of faith in barmen even though they always disappoint me."

"Ooh, are we still talking drinks here?"

Success. You’ve brought sex to the table, and with some luck and the right play, you could be having sex on a table. You cock your head to the side in question, and your flirtatiously raised eyebrow cues him into your understanding.

"Of course," you flutter your eyelashes in a show of innocence, "what else could it possibly be?"

He shakes his head, your eyes dripping with a saccharine glow for someone with a dirty mouth. With another sip of the dastardly drink, he asks, “So what brings you to town?”

“Just here and there,” you shrug, not wanting to talk shop, “vacationing and stuff.” You raise your hand to beckon the bartender, who begrudgingly paces towards your side of the counter. “A bourbon on the rocks, please,” you throw him a glance, “would you like a repeat of that?” you mock.

“Oh no.” Jimin downs the glass, trying to keep his reaction to a minimum lest he offended the bartender, “the same will do for me as well.”

“Ohh, a bourbon guy, a man after my own heart,” you praise his choice of poison, clinking your new and drinkable glass of liquor with his own. He gives you a raised eyebrow in response before swallowing his shot down in one gulp, and fuck. When was the last time you found the bob of an Adam’s Apple hot? When did a sideways glance have your panties in a bunch? You push the thought away, not wanting to reminisce about your recent lack of adventure, and tip your glass down in one go. The crisp, cold liquid glides down your throat, the sting of bourbon cleansing your palate, ridding your tastebuds of the horrendous sugariness.

“So, vacationing, you said.” Arched eyebrows curtain his curious eyes, glancing down to soak up your dress of the night, sequined lace that hugs your thighs far too high up - your fishnet stockings not covering much of what’s exposed - posing a guileless question, “Having fun then?”

You cross your legs, for no good reason other than to ensure the shift in your hemline caused by the movement catches his fancy, and to your glee, it does. You bask in his anchored attention before adjusting your dress again, leaving the skin he could possibly see to his astir imagination.

“I wish. Haven’t had my fill,” you match his gaze when they meet, keeping them steady save for his occasional flit across to admire your curves. You beckon for the bartender to ask for a refill before presenting your own question. “What about you? What brings you here?”

“Let’s just pretend I’m here on a super-secret James Bond-esque mission because the reality is fucking depressing.”

A soft, sonorous giggle, very unlike his suave, sleek disposition bursts out of his delicate lips, catching your own laugh in surprise - he laughs without heed, without worrying about how loud or how soft he is - his refreshing aura rumbles forth a second roll of laughter within you, just to keep up with his endless sniggers.

“Why not,” you wipe a small tear droplet from the corner of your eye, “and I can be the sexy villain, one who seduces you in the first part, just to-” you hold your forefinger and middle finger out, curling the rest inward and point your makeshift gun at him, “-to hold a gun to your head in the immediate next scene.”

He’s still smiling at you, soft features clearly enjoying your silly company, as he slyly wraps his hand around your jutted fingers, tugging your gun closer. “I mean, we have to try and stick to the script,” he says, voice lowering in decibel with each word uttered, the cherubic smile slowly fading into something sinister, “you have to give me some action before we - you know - literally jump the gun.”

“Of course, a Bond movie needs some action.”

“I hope we’re talking about the same action here.”

He gives you a cheeky wink after the statement, one that you return with an earnest blush - blush? Weren’t you ready to gobble dick in public mere moments ago? Weren’t you all but willing to be fucked into the counter till every floor is made aware of your sordid quest? The heat warming up your cheeks goes completely against your motive; you need to drink the decorum out of you.

You try to release your hand from his - surprisingly strong and surprisingly soft - grip, turning to the bartender to ask for a refill, when the grip on your hand pulls you closer to its direction, and you’re a hair’s breadth away from touching noses. “Are you sure you wanna do that?”

“Get another drink?” you attempt to clarify, trying to ignore the thudding of your heart, “Worried I can’t handle myself?”

“I’m worried you can’t handle me.”

Fuck. Why does he have to say the perfect things to make you flood your pussy, and with such nonchalance like it’s a casual Tuesday for him? You’ve had men talk like you were their accountant, their underling, or both - a blase lack of effort or lack of respect evident in their voices. But Jimin is the best of both worlds (copyright queen Miley), there’s a hardened edge to his tone, without simply assuming your complicity - respect hidden within the raggedness. How complex is this man, and how far will you bend for him?

Only time will tell.

Hopefully, time will tell.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it. Besides, at the pace we’re going, it seems like it’ll be long before any action takes place.”

Your hands drag free of his hold to ask for another hit, but a sound makes you stop. His glass, now rid of the dark brown liquid, meets the bar counter with a loud clink, louder than the earlier ones. Each remaining ice cube rings against each other, and the bells in your head awaken in anticipation of some movement to this slowly progressing scene. Sliding off the barstool in some smooth motion, he buttons his suit up before stretching his hand out to you. You meet his eyes, now veiled with drapes of lust and affection instead of his glasses, and you’re happy to uncurtain those and find what truly hides behind.

“Which floor are you on?” he poses the question, a precursor to the long-awaited ask of the night.

“Depends. Which one are you on?”

"Oh-oh Jimin!"

Your head is thrown back, hitting the wall of the elevator in a sonorant thud, but the pain doesn't even register. It feels like the elevator cords could snap and throw the both of you into the abyss and still, Jimin wouldn't stop licking the syrups you're churning out, and you couldn't have any feeling come in between you and the long wished for pleasure that runs through your body.

“Keep them spread, don’t you try to close them on me.”

With not a care in the world, Jimin had dropped to his knees (after pushing you to the corner, quite literally), and immediately settled between your legs. His suit looks expensive - Armani? Gucci? All you can say he’s eating you out like Dolce ate Gabbana. Your stockings, followed by the strip of cloth protecting your modesty were torn in heat of the moment, the scrapped bunch thrown to one corner of this elevator - the fabric skillfully being replaced by the strip of his tongue. The view of his multicolored hair between your legs, the bright, vivid ribbons adorning his soft blonde locks as they find residence between your legs stirs fractious excitement within your fragile heart.

“Look at that, are your knees about to give out?” Jimin’s soft murmurs reach your ear, but never make it to your brain, focus completely elsewhere. He smiles lightly, continuing his torment, speaking against your nether lips, “I am not against laying you flat right here and taking you whole.”

“I-” You don’t have words to say, and even if you did, your throat would refuse to comply with any movement that is not a moan. What you do though, is lodge your hands in his hair to attempt to control him. Attempt would be a strong word, because he seems to know your body better than your own junky fingers. You raise your left leg to bring it around his neck, eliciting a sly smile that you can feel on your nether lips. Snaking an arm around your hip, he pulls you into him, as if there is any distance to close.

“Seems like you aren’t either,” Jimin chuckles, his sultry voice crackling in the confines of the elevator, “your mess is dripping down baby, it’s so sexy.” He drags the flat of his tongue from your thighs, collecting your arousal, bringing it up to press against your clit, feeling it palpitate as all your blood wheels itself downstairs. “Tell me,” he coos, “how do you like the idea of fucking me right here?”

“Aah! Fu-” is all he hears because he starts sucking your nub, and a very-frazzled you slam your palms on the rows of buttons in the panel, setting the elevator in motion.

“Jimin, wait-” With short, quick pants, you try to look back at the panel, trying to see how you can get the elevator back to your original destination, but Jimin isn’t happy with your attention faltering towards him.

“Sweetheart,” he calls out to you playfully, but his racy fingers trace a line right from your ankle, moving upward, completely differing his honey-voice, “What’s got you worried? Afraid someone will see you? Like this?”

His 'this' was not simple. The 'this' was punctuated by two thick fingers entering your dripping hole, not to mention his cheeky thumb finding your clit to torture it even more. With all the bases covered down here, Jimin’s lips move up, his free hand searching for your nipples as his lips search for answers to unsaid questions in the nook of your neck.

“Will you step away,” his whisper jolts your mind, “if the doors open?” He sucks in your skin, harder, almost telling you there’s no way he’s letting you move away. But the clench of your walls, the slick dribbling down his fingers, they tell a different tale. Your hardening nipple under your dress, your fervid whimpers, and your head moving to give him more access don’t rock your pictorial boat. A weak “no” glides by between your wails and mewls, and Jimin’s pleasure with your answer shows. His thumb resting on your clit starts making a move, and together with his digits inside you, your eyes might as well roll back into your skull because this has to be demonic. Your orgasm is crashing right around the corner, and you-

Ding!

To your absolute horror, the elevator doors open your show to the public i.e., an old couple looking forward to entering, taking a step or two inside before you can hear the gasp of shock, disgust, and embarrassment all rolled up in one, at your - umm - compromised state of affairs.

“Jimin!”

You peek over his shoulder to see the scarred souls; they still haven’t moved away from the astonishing scene, and it is uneasy, your pussy is gushing at the thought of having an audience for your debauchery. You mutter a quiet ‘sorry’ to the traumatized couple before shifting your focus back to the man of the hour, who seems not the least bit perturbed by the happenings. His fingers are still lodged inside, looking still on the outside, but curling inside to stimulate her g-spot, and your eyes could be looking behind if they could roll that far.

“What do you want me to do?” could have been a very innocent question from a very concerned individual. Jimin was no such man. The sneer in his whispered voice was registered by you as he registered the ever-growing waterfall you are releasing onto his hand. Lips curved to the right, he sees your fucked out state, soaking in your teetering-at-the-brink-of-orgasm glow. “Want me to move, let them see how fucked out my tongue got you?”

Your hand shoots out to grab his collar as the elevator dings back shut, and you pull him close, pushing yourself back onto his fingers, - only to have your lips consumed by his own, with a force mimicked by his digits plunging deeper into your cunt. His tongue pushes its way into your cave, awakening your own muscle with its moves, and relocating it to his own mouth where he sucks it away like nectar from a honey hive.

Jimin’s response to your voracity is “Maybe I’ll invite the next people to join, you seem to like that.”

You let out an irritated huff, face heated up in an embarrassing glow whilst trying to find a spot on his neck to latch onto. One night (one that has barely begun) and you’re already rediscovering yourself.

“Stop awakening latent kinks in me, I need to get back to normal men.”

His fingers card through your tresses until they reach your scalp, tugging you off his neck to look right into your eyes. From your peripheral vision, the glow of his lips, coated in a shiny sheen of your arousal and saliva glistens under the lighting, and you dart forth to clean that up for him but he stalls.

Seeing your fucked out state, Jimin chuckles, "Fuck, you’re clenching so hard baby, so good."

So cocky.

You might love him.

Instead of saying something embarrassing, you force him closer, joining lips before snapping back, "Oh, I’m good. I’d be great if you actually made me come."

The creases on his forehead show that he's not one to back down from a challenge. You jolt up, practically balancing yourself on the balls of your feet, as both the elevator starts moving to a new destination, and his fingers start moving deeper, massaging and curling inward, letting the base of his palm apply generous pressure on your clit. Heated breath embraces your skin as he snickers into your ear, “Make you? From the looks of it,” accompanied by another harsh pump, “I can make you do just about anything.”

The gall this man has, to go around stating complete facts. With his hand just about ready to touch the sky, he reaches deep within you, three thick digits performing a graceful dance on the slippery stage of your pussy walls, when he grabs your lower lip between his teeth. Your response is felt, hard, as you clench around the intrusion, and he digs his teeth in, harder. The elevator beeps open on a new floor, but you are unbothered by whether you invite a new audience or not. If they come in, hopefully, they enjoy it as much as you do. Probably not.

“Tall words,” is what tries to leave your mouth, but your entire body squirming under his attention swallows any chutzpah your words could have conveyed. His sturdy fingers touch all the right points, from his thumb soothing your engorged nub, to his digits ensconced in your warmth curling into the patch that is making your head hit the walls for the nineteenth time today. His lazy lips suck, bite and pinch any skin they find, tracing your jawline with his spittle, and you’ve never been this turned on, so keyed up, this stimulated from all ends, that you can’t control the cascading orgasm gushing through you.

Your body feels like rubber, still reeling from the effects - your climax feels endless, like an onslaught that refuses to end. From what, just fingering? Only when Jimin kisses your cheek, in adoration almost, and plucks his digits out of you, do you truly return from your high to plant your feet on planet Earth.

Your hand is still digging into his tie, which is crumpled beyond recognition - and you pull him into you. Your lips fit again, like they always knew how to, not a string of awkwardness, shifting of positions, or adjustments of angles - it just fits right. Jimin breaks contact, much to your pique, until he brings his sullied fingers to fill in in his lips’ stead; your eyes shut at the taste you were unprepared for, moaning loudly to convey your approval of his ideas.

“I love a woman who can enjoy herself,” Jimin mutters in marvel, smearing the leftover juices on his fingers onto your lips. “Love that you don’t quiet down.” When you dart your tongue out to taste the rest, his fingers block your way, only to whisper “Allow me,” before diving in to taste your arousal intermingled with your saliva. It is intoxicating, every move of his awakening a new cell of lechery you didn’t know you had in you.

You do exactly as he desired, you’re loud and messy. Open-mouthed kisses and intense, throaty moans to respond to every right thing he does, which is basically everything; your tongues meld together to taste whatever the other did, and your hands move messily across his whole body, trying to feel him through the multiple layers of cloth he adorns. The only part you can feel is his hardened cock, stiff and unrelenting; your palms come down to his ass and push him to you, grinding his cock against your wet core. If you caught him by surprise, he doesn’t show it, still fully lost in making out with you. You are caught unaware though, his taut butt cheeks are not what you had expected. Plump, cushy, a handful to grab - what a marvel of science he is.

"I believe I have a favor to return," you offer when both your lips retire for a breather.

"It was wholly my pleasure, but seeing as you're eager, I won't say no," Jimin says, before diving into your lips again.

If it wasn't enough to scar that poor old couple who witnessed your sordid conditions back then, you effectively scar Jimin's entire floor.

With great difficulty you both detach yourselves, only to get back to each other like the strongest magnets known to man. It was a tug of war; who was tugging who, where, what, none of it made sense. Jimin tugged you towards his room while you simply tried to pull him closer to yourself. Your lips would have been away a total of two seconds, in the minute-long walk it would have taken to get to his room.

Frustrated halfway, Jimin pushes you against a wall, one hand still wet from your orgasm coming up to grab your chin as he speaks practically into your mouth.

"What a feisty bitch," he breathes out as you dig in harder, both with your palms in his hair and your crotch on his leg, "Let me get you to the fucking room."

"I don't know, you've awoken something in me," you snap back as you attack his blemished neck, "I don't mind the corridor as long as you put on a good show."

"Oh, you can count on me for that, but-" he grabs your wandering hands, crosses them behind your waist to hold you in place, only to have you wrap your leg around him and pull him closer.

Undeterred, he twirls you around, and you are shoved into the wall chest-first and he presses into your ass. Through his taut pants, you can feel his cock again, and the pressure of your cheeks makes him moan, and you hiss on feeling his unstinting thickness, the anticipation of feeling it stretch your walls making you salivate.

A rough smack echoes in the empty aisles, and a second later you feel it sting on your ass. Bringing his hand back to your chin, he turns your face to the left, planting your cheek against the wall, only to get greater access to your shoulder, so he can-

"Fuck! Dude!"

It's your voice, trying to be cross with him for biting deep into your shoulder, but even he can see through your barely-there ruse, tonguing over his very prominent teeth marks that have you rutting against the wall. Just any friction at this point will get you off, and now you're not beneath grinding the whole wall just for a hint of release. Remember that woman with dignity? A figment of your imagination. She was never there.

"As I was saying," Jimin starts again, voice perfectly steady for how hard his cock is, "I'd like to fuck you into my bed if that's okay with you."

Filthy courteous. A gentlemanly freak. An oxymoron of the highest order, and you don't know who to write a check to for this blessing.

"Fine.”

“Yeah, I better take matters in my own hands,” and he does what you had anticipated, but not quite - you were expecting a bridal lift, his hands perched under your back and your knees, but he does you one better. You are now flung over, waist digging into his shoulders as his arm rests just below your dress hem. That reminds you - your dress isn’t even long enough to possibly manage this position without flashing every occupant who traverses this hall. “Talented hands, aren’t they?”

Dignity be damned.

“Oh my God, put me down!” you yell in protest, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks at this ungainly position.

Mostly, because his wandering palms still haven’t had their fill. One such sneaker slipped under the fabric to give your cheek a tight squeeze, and you squeak at the unanticipated intrusion. “What part of this is any better?” You huff as he hikes your skirt up, exposing the fleshy mounds, “Someone sees you, and you’re gonna have handcuffs slapped in an instant.”

“Maybe I can borrow them for a specific someone who-” he pauses to smack your right cheek, roughly, the quiet hours of the passage being tainted by your vulgar pursuits, “-can’t keep her hands to herself,” he finishes with another smack on the same cheek, and the sting is brutal, but only goads you further.

“Jimin, you’re revealing to be nastier than I ever thought.” Your tongue snakes out to lick your lips, which had gotten dry from either all your hydration moving downtown or the lack of kissing in the past, well, forty seconds.

From your limited vision, you can see the ninety-degree turn Jimin makes, before the shuffling and distinct sound of a door clicking open, before the scene around you changes.

“What gave it away?” Jimin snickers, flinging you over the bed, “Was it the tonguing in the elevator,” he unbuttons his coat and proceeds to take it off, “or was it the fingering out in the open?” He slowly moves to meticulously hang his coat in the closet, a very unnecessary move considering your current disposition.

“Or maybe, it’s all the things I’ve yet to do to you,” he quietly ends.

You raise yourself, balancing on your elbows as you watch him regard you, eyes tantalizing every hair on your neck as his tongue juts out to trace his upper lip, slowly. Your own eyes follow his tongue with a dizzying fixation, that beguiling muscle that shows no strain in its movement after the carnage it released onto you. It’s so alive, you can almost feel it against your cunt as they draw you into flashbacks of it snacking on your cum, muttering bawdy words of affection that would make inventors of the language shy away in shame.

The silence is too much, too arousing yet nowhere near culmination. You break it, sighing, “You’ve got to be hurting too,” as you bring your gaze to his hardness, staunch and stiff against his pants.

“I don’t know,” Jimin takes his first step towards you, “I’m a man of taste, and the night is young,” he finishes, standing at the edge of the bed, his cocky demeanor commanding you to give in, letting time tick by, because he just knows. He knows you can and will pounce.

“Well, you might be a man of taste,” you get on your knees on the bed, and catch his tie to tug him back for the umpteenth time tonight, but this time making the right decision to take a step further and remove it, ready to fling it away from sight - but he grabs it, wrapping it around your marred neck, knotting it a little too tight - you choke only slightly, but your raspy words come out undeterred, “but I’m not a woman of patience.”

“Oh, I could tell when you were ready to climb me like a tree in the corridor,” he shakes the tie knot, having you sway along, until he pushes you back on the bed.

Crawling over and hovering above your body, his knees straddle yours, until he moves his right knee between your legs to slowly push your dress up, slithering upward until the joint makes contact with your center, still dripping from your earlier climax. You shamelessly gyrate, not bothered that his dress pants now need some hushed laundry, as he undoes his cuffs while not letting his gaze move from you even for the briefest second.

The buttons on his shirt had been irking you all night, irking you enough to halt your grinding to slide yourself up and start undressing him in earnest. Jimin halts to simply stare at you, your fingertips laced in need as every button glides out and gives up on its assignment. Once you pull out his shirt and undo the last one, you look up and meet his gaze, letting your fingers graze the lone strip of exposed skin as your hand moves from his hip to his chest, and you swear you feel his skin quake under your touch.

The atmosphere between you two is electric, your line of sight could crackle under the sheer intensity - but before the air bursts into flames, you slide both your hands along his chest and under the fabric, shucking it off of his exquisite frame, and boy. His limber body, the lines of defining muscles canvassing his torso is terrorizing your pussy, and your digits flutter back to run their tips over your new finding - in thin, spindly letters a ‘NEVERMIND’ bedecked his pale skin. He watches you with a keen eye, and you can hear nothing but the stilled sound of each other’s breaths.

“Does this come with a story?” You jest, but rush to add, “I mean, you don’t have to tell me - if it’s personal or -”

Jimin’s grin interrupts your sentence, as he wraps around you with his arms in an effort to pull you closer - a stark contrast to the man a few minutes ago fully content in using his tie on you like a personalized leash.

“You’re cute,” he coos, “and no, no story. Just a reminder to not mind the worthless aspects of life.”

“Feels like there’s a lot of subtext to that.”

“Maybe. For now,” he grabs your wrist, hand dangerously close to his nipple, “it’s not a rule you need to mind.”

“Oh,” you smile, fully catching his drift but walking into that trap anyway, “what would you like me to mind?”

Your hand is pulled downward, until it settles on the generous mound that peeks under his pants - and when you clamp down on the tip over the cloth, he breathes a soft “This, please.”

“Who would have known,” you chuckle, the poise in your tone not reaching your hands as they work on ridding him of his pants, “you know how to ask for things, instead of pushing me around like a ragdoll,” and instead you push him down, landing him onto the plethora of pillows that decorate this plush bed. When you finally pull his pants down, you’re caught tongue-tied, and you might as well be fully tied, because you stop in your track when you witness what you’ve uncovered.

“Fuck.”

There’s not a part of his body that doesn’t flow into the other one like butter, but his thighs - his thighs - the angel creating Jimin sure broke a few laws, and is well on their way to hell, because those thighs did not get made in anything remotely holy. There are rocks on planet earth that are probably softer than his thighs, now flexed under your scrutiny - probably only to be beaten by his rock-hard dick.

“I might be wrong, but someone complained that the pace was too slow,” he grunts, a dangerous smirk on his perfect lips.

Wading through intense complaints from that one oversexed side of your brain, you detach your eyes from his thighs to drag it up to his face, which is now placed on his weaved fingers, regarding you with a cocky smile, the effect he has on you clear as day. You shake your head with a smile - he’s got you stupid before his dick can.

“It’s only fair,” you call out but hasten yourself, finally ridding him of his pants and boxers - and when his dick bounces out, you feel a jolt hit your cunt like lightning, and pull a short breath when it slaps against his abs - a failed attempt to complete your moot sentence and yet no voice leaves your throat. All you know is that you’re ready to face Armageddon just to catch that dick between your legs.

“Cock got your tongue?” you hear the cheeky man respond to your drooling.

You don’t answer, choosing to bend down sultrily, landing a sweet, innocent kiss onto the leaking head, pulling away to see the bare minimum strings of precum stretch, trying to pull your lips back onto his dick before snapping.

“Oh, fuck, you…” Jimin speaks to nothing, voice far too strained for it to be a real threat.

“Fuck me? Soon, baby.”

He laughs in anguish as your tongue continues to torment his volcanic dick - kitten licks barely covering the head - every brief contact you make, you can feel his thighs clench, hardening in anticipation of anything more than what you’re offering. Finally, you flatten your tongue and roll it around, and for the first time tonight, a hiss followed by a moan emanates from the man who had been tormenting you so far.

Just when you’re getting bold, a hand digs into your hair, clawing at your scalp, and the pain involuntarily throws your mouth open - an opportunity Jimin grabs with his dick, pushing into you till you’re sufficiently stuffed.

“Ah, that’s perfect. Is this what you wanted?” He shakes the fist of hair as his cock shifts around in your mouth, “To test me till I snap? To make me treat you like the ragdoll that you are?”

Even with your mouth full, you try to smirk at him - this is not a tactic you should employ with him, but when have you ever learned your lesson? Your willingness to play his game has Jimin in bliss, and you feel it when his dick twitches under the attention of your tongue. He stays there for a while, enjoying the warmth of your mouth.

“Look at that, the peace in the air when you’re not off being a mouthy slut,” he thrusts in harder, never letting the hold on your hair dwindle, “Happy? Is the whore in you satisfied? I bet not.” A harder thrust, your throat finally voicing its limits in a feeble groan, but Jimin pays heed to none, “Bet you don’t know what life is like without a cock in hand and another in your mouth.”

You mewl at his words, the obscenities only sending harder pulses to your cunt. Jimin lets go of your hair for a fleeting moment, allowing you to move if you need to - you do, but the prospect of making him come overrides any need for relief, and you stay put where he left you, dick reaching an ungodly point in your throat.

“Yeah,” he grins, a snarky smile as he continues plunging into your mouth in short, rough motions, “fucking thought so. Gonna use your throat so well, I don’t want you talking for days. A toy like you doesn’t need to run their mouth as you do - suck you fucking whore, what are you waiting for?”

You whimper, for the only reason that his girth doesn’t give you much space to suck on. Still, you hollow your cheeks out as far as you can, bobbing your head in whatever space your throat provides without alerting your gag reflex, and you hear Jimin sigh in return. The ringing pain in your jaw is making its presence known more and more with every passing second, but you refuse to give in with every breath that’s left in you.

He starts fucking your mouth in earnest, every thrust accompanied by a delectable groan on his part, and he controls the pace while you’re just left to take his assault. Rolling your eyes up, you let yourself enjoy the scene unfolding in front of you, his clenched jaw, blissed-out face, neck scattered in your earlier attacks - your vagina feels incredibly empty, and after some pumps, you tap his thigh (are they made of metal?!) to ask, plead, beg to cut to the chase.

He empties your mouth, face slightly contorted in worry, but you assuage him quickly, “You know,” your voice is barely yours anymore, sounding hoarse and scratchy, and it catches you by surprise as you bring your hand to wrap your neck with a surprised ‘o’ on your lips. Jimin laughs out loud - stop shifting personas so fast! - as you continue, “As I was saying, my pussy is wetter than my mouth,” you cock your head to the side, “if you’d like to try?”

“Oh,” his eyes turn dark, more demon than human, as an idea forms in his head and he comes on to his knees, “I can fix that.”

His hand in your hair dislodges itself, bringing itself down to the tie you don, wrapping it around his fist and tugging you closer - the tightening grip forces you to open your mouth, breathing heavily. At this diminished distance, you can see the telltale signs of his advancing orgasm, beads of sweat lining his multicolored hairline, lips bitten from his teeth digging to halt the high from taking over (although, you have to take half the blame there) - but before you can look into it further, he makes his move.

Two fat globs of spit, released with vigor, land plumb on your eager tongue, and you can taste him again, taste his sweetness with a hint of your own, and you want to savor the taste - but you wait for his order.

“Now that’s perfect, isn’t it?” He gives you a snarky grin before pushing you down, impaling your mouth with his dick again, this time his own saliva coating his length and he pushes in again. Everything he did, everything he does, only brings your attention to your empty pussy, and his honeyed voice rumbling at the feeling of your mouth only makes the emptiness worse. In the inconvenient position, you shuffle your hands forth to cup his balls - they feel tight and ready to release into you, and you give them light, punishing squeezes to make them do exactly that.

But the taste of his cum never comes, because in one swooping motion, he frees himself of your mouth’s hold and - surprisingly - moves off the bed.

“Hey, wha-oh!”

For a flash second, you thought he wasn’t content with edging you alone, extending his edging kink onto himself, he roughly tugs you to the end of the bed, bringing you to stand.

“I’m going to nail you into this fucking bed,” he grits out, before turning you around and crudely shoving your face into the bedding, “and your job is to shut up and take it. Got it?”

Holy fuck. Have you ever been this turned on, enough to paralyze your tongue from forming any word?

“I said,” his fingers find their familiar spot in your hair as he pulls you up, biting words unleashing into your ear, “Got it? Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Yesyesyesye-” You unleash an outpour of the one word that’s running through your mind, all the way up until you are unceremoniously stuffed into the bed again, and you wait, with bated breaths - the familiar rustle of a condom wrapper in the background - but instead of his thick length, you find his fingers again, and you groan for some respite.

Jimin laughs at your neediness. “Just checking if you were wet enough,” he says, “but I don’t know why there was any doubt.”

“You better hurry up before I suck it all back in,” you attempt a feeble threat.

The head of his cock finally pokes at your entrance, and you are already wailing, fingers bunching up the bedding as he pushes in further. “Haven’t you-shi-” Jimin stutters, “-haven’t you had enough sucking?”

You don’t even try a glib response - it would never come, because he bottoms out, and your walls are stretching to accommodate his dick, pressing all the right points to send your head into a whole new dimension, where pleasure is the only emotion you feel. His cock twitches inside, and you pull yourself out of your palace of desire to whisper at him to move.

He makes no move, and you’re not sure what he’s waiting for - you go to repeat yourself louder, just to be su-

Smack!

The unexpected lash on your left cheek jerks you, shifting his dick in you and making you clench further. You can hear the move affect him as he hisses and pushes you flush against the bed.

“Wow,” you’re panting, out of breath before you even start, “even at this point, you find a way to drag this out.”

“Trust me, if you had my view right now,” Smack! Another slap hits you, and you clench harder, this time bringing a full-blown groan from Jimin as he holds onto your hip to steady himself, “even you’d take your own, sweet time.”

Every slap henceforth only hurls you further towards your orgasm, words no longer working for you so you resort to communicating only through wails and whines, hoping he would decipher your pleas.

When he finally moves again, you all but scream Hallelujah to the angels puppeteering him from the heavens, and you take note of your current situation - you’re perilously close to your orgasm. This has been record-timing, from penetration to orgasming, and you rush to pay attention to the nub thrumming since this whole ordeal began. Sliding your hand under the frame of your body, and you-

“Ah, tsk, that’s not happening.”

Somehow Jimin - who was lost in the dreamland of your pussy, you know, you checked - caught your move, and now has your arm twisted behind as you wail and unfruitfully search for the orgasm that is almost yours. The one thing that shuts you up is his double-handed spank, each side facing the equal brunt of your actions, as Jimin hisses and slows his pace.

“Shut the fuck up,” his hands come down and dig into your supple cheeks, squeezing them and pulling them apart. “Your body is mine to use. So pipe the fuck down,” he growls, before setting his eyes on your newly exposed hole.

“You can tell me when to-fuck-when to stop,” he breathlessly utters, “but other than that, just lay back and take it like a good little plaything.” You cry a loud yes to his patronizing words - at this point, he could very well ask you for a billion-dollar check and you’d happily bid farewell to all your possessions.

He lands a spitwad on your ringed hole, the cool wetness making it pulsate while your clit palpitates in anticipation and your hold on his dick tightening. His thumb traces a circle before shallowly digging inside.

“Jimin, oh God, more, more-” you don’t know what you’re chanting for, the buzz getting you drunk on his actions and making it harder and harder to keep your orgasm at bay.

A dark, sinister snigger lined with need leaves Jimin’s short-winded voice. “So you’re an anal whore too,” he lightly moves his thumb in the confines, your responding moan triggering more chuckles, “no one is surprised.”

“F-fu-oh God I-” you can’t even gather the wits to give him a fitting reply, especially because his dick is thrusting into you in new directions.

“You’ll let a stranger just about fuck you anywhere,” he adds to the growing pile of awards he’s presenting to you, grinning ear to ear at your lack of diction, “tell me, Y/N, tell me you’re a needy, insatiable whore. Scream it, let the neighbors hear you.” A particularly deep thrust hits you hard, at the right spot, and you push yourself back on his dick, angling yourself right, “fuckin’ do it, Y/N, or else I’ll finish and leave you.”

You shriek at the thought of it, the coil in your belly taut and threatening to snap, your brain rushes to stitch the right words and before you know it, you’re spewing them at him. “Oh-oh yes, yes, yes, I’m a desperate whore, I need to be filled every day, and every night, can’t leave my - oh fucking hell, right there - my pussy empty, shit, and why should I? When dick like yours exists?!”

His thumb twists inside, breaching in enough to be able to curl a joint, and you take that as an acceptance. Your whole body thrums to the beat of his thrust, tips of your toes curling inward, attempting to halt your libido from seeping out of you, and you’re certain the establishment is never letting you set foot inside ever again after the fest you carried tonight.

“Gah, your pussy is just-so tight, I want to you fuck you open over, and over, and over again,” Jimin’s hips pump into you with ceaseless vigor, chasing his own high while tending to both your holes. “I’m going to leave you dripping for days.”

“Oh-oh-Jimin! I’m goi-ugh-fuck, no one will fuck me this goo-ah!”

Even with your spastic and incomplete verbiage, the content reaches him, and a passing cloud of clemency (and his swiftly approaching peak) brings him to slip two fingers of his unoccupied hand down. But jerk that he is, they do nothing except tap your clit, lightly, softly, with no destination in sight.

You continue to egg him on, “Gonna feel your dick in me for day-ohhh fucking hell-days to come, gonna feel you in me! Please, please let me come, I can’t-I-”

“Just a little more baby,” Jimin coos, a hitch in his throat hinting you that he too is at the end of his run, “Tell me more,�� he hisses as his digits land a hard thwack right on your clit.

“Oh right there, right there-Jimin please please I need to come so bad, I’m gonna think of this night forever,” you’re crying at this point, the pressure of holding back swarming tears in your eyes, tongue letting just about anything out. “Any day I have bad sex I’m gonna think of you, any day I have good sex I’ll think of you, cuz no way in hell am I getting dicked down this good-shit I’m gonna-” you pause for a breather, “Jimin, please let me come!!”

He finally lays a soft kiss on your back, whispering “Go on, cream my cock like you’ve been longing to do” before the two digits press firmly onto your clit and draw figures over it - what figures, you can’t tell, because your orgasm washes over you with the force of all the mighty waterfalls all over the world, combined. Both the walls of your pussy and you are spasming, the pinnacle of your orgasm coursing through your body, trying to find an outlet to the boundless energy it carries. It finally leaves through your mouth, a loud, elongated moan marking the end of the fuck of a lifetime.

Jimin grunts at the way your pussy clamps over his cock, and in two more pumps he’s emptying himself into the rubber, utter hushed cusses until he comes down from his climax. His fatigued build falls onto your back, a soft hand wrapping around your waist as you both catch your escaping breaths.

“I thought I was gonna die over there,” you finally snort, as much as your breath allows you to, “do you keep all your women waiting like that?”

He just laughs, pulling his softening member out and discarding the condom, “I’m not sure what you mean. All I remember is you telling me I dicked you down goo-ow!” He laughs as you slap his chest in jest.

Jimin pulls you to the pillows and kisses you, deep and sensual, lips telling you he hasn’t had his fill, but body limp and heated and begging for a break. As you attempt to adjust your dress, he halts you by pinning your hands to his chest, and you simply give in to his wordless demand.

With your head laid on his shoulder, air filled with a relaxing silence, you let your pointer finger drag along his chest, tracing the prominent tattoo, catching his flinch as you linger over his nipple.

“You know, I too have a tattoo, a pity you couldn’t catch it.”

“Oh?” Jimin cocks his head back to meet your gaze, the tiredness evaporating in an instant to give way to renewed vigor. Your outfit is a sight to behold, crumpled dress bunched above your hips, the straps of your dress messy and astray, falling off your shoulders, and his lone tie still surviving the ordeal across your neck. Through the thin fabric, he can see what he actually didn’t catch - your soft breasts devoid of his branding, and if he looks carefully, he can spot your juicy nipples pebbled under the jeweled cloth. Pulling the tie to have you fall back into him, he hums softly, palm coming forth to grab the shunned mounds of flesh.

“Where might that be?” he softly asks, inching closer and closer to your cleavage.

You shrug playfully, his ministrations already taking over your mind. Slipping one strap off your shoulder, you murmur, “Why don’t you find out?”

Within a blink, you’re trapped, caged underneath his whole body. He bends low, his unicorn strands tickling your cheek as he licks a soft stripe against the shell of your ear, before whispering, “Oh, you bet I will.”

Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!

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