#(down to the damn applications)

[raddestrose]

happy valentines day to the doomed yaoi and doomed yuri that plague my thoughts, may they live together in peace and happiness in a nicer timeline

[poyopaan]

i did some applications today and gotta say? kill me

[kakusu-shipping]

I have a Captain Pikachu X Self Insert fanfic burning a hole in my brain for that part of the anime I haven't even seen yet

[m3owfrog]

ugh i kinda wanna get back on tumblr and rot my brain out some more

[itsbenedict]

at work 1: developer meeting

at work 2: get a fix for the videos issue up on staging

oh god mod stuff critical condition

prep combat for D&D session

run D&D for little brothers

turn off a bunch of Windows 11 spyware shit

exercise

WK reviews +5 lessons

take out the trash

go outside

sketch composition for OC roulette art

IIS can go to absolute hell. what the fuck do you mean "The user name or password is incorrect"?!? it's not!!! it's fucking correct and you just told me it was correct because i just hit "Test Settings" and you said "the specified user credentials are valid" and gave me all green! and i know the credentials work because i fucking used them to access the files in the goddamn file explorer!!! fuck you!!!!

[talentforlying]

what fascinates me about constantine is that he is well-known for being a very skilled and powerful magus, but at the same time, most of his fellow magic users in the world of hellblazer consider his particular brand of magic to be cheap as sin; one of his more popular monikers is even "the gutter mage". and a lot of it has to do with the way that maguses in hellblazer tend to actively create their own forms of magic, tailored to their strengths.

magic in hellblazer is constantly being reinvented by its users, to the point where some people have created entire subfields that had never been considered before — like ritchie simpson inventing quantum magic, being able to interface with technology in astral form; like map being able to symbiotically draw on the energy of the entire city of london in a way that no other mage Has ever or Will ever be able to duplicate. those two are some of the most powerful magic-users in that entire universe, solely because of their ability to invent. imagination, diligence, and intention are the cornerstones of hellblazer's magic system.

and then you have john constantine, who from the perspective of most of the older folks in the magic community just . . . kinda trails around after them, picking up their bread crumbs. his kit of choice are rituals and spells and artifacts and varieties of magic that already exist, rather than building his own. sure, he's innovative with how he uses them, but there's this general air of like: how the fuck did you accumulate a reputation that puts you in the ranking with all these "Actually Authentic" maguses for being the equivalent of a walking, talking dumpster of other people's used-up skills???

( the trick is: he's fucking worked for it. he's a survivor. he has a reputation as one of the most powerful magic-users because he is one of the most tenacious, the most innovative, and the most ruthless. he's able to be the most tenacious-innovative-ruthless because he doesn't turn tail and run at the first threat to his life. people like map, like clarice sackville, like nathan arcane, they feel that they are crucial to the continued existence of magic and need to stay alive for the greater good of the world, and that's why they will fail where constantine will succeed (and also why they'll call him to do the dirty work for them): because he has absolutely no need to preserve himself or safeguard his skillset beyond his basic human desire to live. because he has no magic that is unique to him, nothing that would go extinct if he did first. because as far as the forward march of magical progress goes, in the eyes of the magic community and himself, he contributes nothing that necessitates his future survival, and he is fucking fine with that, because he's the one who actually helps people. )

[summersfirstsnow]

I think the world would be a better place if I never had to apply for anything, ever.

[beananium]

The Problems

[robinsnest2111]

I feel like I didn't make proper use of today. but I got several loads of laundry done and put fresh bedsheets and such on my bed. and that will have to be enough.

[yaytomhiddlestonyay]

[swagging-back-to]

about my last reblogs tags yeah so she was lying to me the entire time I've known her about this 50 year old (who she was dating in fucing highschool.) and the reason she was stringing me along with the apartment was because of him. the reason she bailed on me last second was because of him. the reason she almost got me fucking killed in portland drugged and wouldn't tell me who tf she had on the phone and why they couldn't come get us if they were so close and able. literally refused to even acknowledge i said anything everytime i asked "WHO are you talking to?" or anything bout him. it's the reason she dropped in unannounced a few weeks ago to couch crash bc 'her parents lcked her out and didn't hear her pounding on the door' despite having like 4 dogs, two of which are beagles.

i didnt even think nything of it at the time but she was lying. this whole fucking time. i haven't told anyone about it because I've just been processing it but I'm actually so fucking mad. i detest all familial relationships. she was the very last chance i had at a normal family and shes... horrible. worse than me.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

if the military wanted you to have a wife, they'd issue you one. Soap's heard that saying once or twice.

and here you are. claiming to be his... issuance.

you tilt your head. "you don't remember signing up for the program?"

no. no, he doesn't. his eyes dart down to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes. he'd remember that. more to the point, he'd remember whatever he did to deserve this. he looks you up and down again, disbelief and desire flashing across his face, and not in equal measure.

you’re like if someone wrung the starry slurry of thoughts constituting what makes a perfect woman directly from his brain matter, let it ferment and clarify like honey wine, put marriage papers in her hand, and dressed her in a… in a fucking… are those stockings stretching up under your skirt?

hell’s bells. you’re one part girl next door, one part muse—the one his hand can never quite shape on the page to match what’s in his head—and several shades of his favorite porn star. an old-fashioned pin-up doll in the flesh.

"you're not John MacTavish, then," you say, peering down at the papers in your hand with a small frown. "so sorry to bother you—"

“no, hold on.” he takes a step closer. “i’m him, aye. but the program...” the application questionnaire. filling it out was nothing more than a drunken bet with Gaz, but yes, he dimly remembers it. doesn't recall turning it in, but maybe he was drunker than he thought. “it's real?"

“completely real. i was selected for you based on the preferences you specified,” you tell him. you shift the clipboard into your other arm, pleasant smile turning into a frown. "but i couldn't possibly ask you to sign a marriage certificate sponsored by a program you don't even remember applying for."

oh, that is rich. you don’t seem to see the humor here. it’s absurd. have you not seen yourself? he'd be daft to pass on someone as bonnie as you.

not to mention you seem more than a little disappointed at the idea of being turned down. that fuels his ego even more.

 "you're sayin' you're a part of that military partnership program, aye? and you were handpicked as my spouse based on a few questions?"

you helpfully produce a copy of his responses in pink triplicate. sure enough, he recognizes his own drunken scrawl.

none of the questions have anything to do his preferences looks-wise. career aspirations, communication preferences, hobbies, his ideal saturday night. his sleeping habits. this is a psychological profile. CIA shite, as Gaz would say.

he doubts his drunken self read more than a few lines of this paperwork while he was constructing his dream girl in the survey blanks.

as he studies the page a little too closely, your small frown turns into a frustrated scowl. "john? um, i mean."

it instantly pulls his eyes back to your lips.

you twirl a strand of hair around your finger. "it’s nice to meet you,” you say in a tone that makes it clear what you’re really saying is ‘hey, stud, i'm looking forward to the honeymoon.’

that’s your attempt, at least. but Soap sees more than you mean to show. the way you play that card--the way you twirl your damn hair--is the clumsiest, most blatant attempt to flirt. somehow, that's what catches him off-guard the most. It makes his heart squeeze. god, are you nervous? you?

he runs over the back of his teeth in the split second before his signature lazy smirk slides back across his face. "happy you got paired up with a bloke like me?"

he hands the paperwork back to you. you take it back with great relief and nestle it securely into the crook of your elbow. you’re certain he didn’t sign every single blank he was supposed to, but he won’t remember that. you’ll check the signature lines later and forge his handwriting to finish it.

you smile prettily at him. then you make it a little more coy. you should be bashful--he's handsome. "i'm lucky. you're special forces. i’m a nobody, really. if you want, you could try filing for a spouse upgrade. if you want a really good fiancée..."

“fiancée." Soap rolls the word around his tongue. "is that what i should call you?”

"well. you saw my name on the paperwork," you point out. you know very well he didn't.

before he can ask any more questions, you press a chaste kiss to his cheek and pull away, walking down the hall with documents in tow. his gaze is heavy on your back.

the documents in your arm are real enough. Soap really did complete that questionnaire, just like how he remembers. getting the application turned in is what required a little creative effort.

but as long as nobody looks too closely at the military ID photocopied in the application file, they won't notice that the mostly-obscured face of the soldier who turned the application in doesn't look much like Soap at all.

...

more Soap / masterlist

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[lcrk]

.

[thetriumphantpanda]

you'll just have to taste me | joel miller

Summary | He knows he's no good, knows it's a bad idea, you're out of bounds and should stay that way, but it's okay to test the waters, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.7K

Warnings | this is literally 1.7k of utter filth, you've been warned, it's nasty, I told you, okay? Unspecified age gap, Joel is your dad's buddy and Sarah is your friend. Joel fights with his morals but the pussy is too good. Explicit smut, JUST THE TIP, unprotected PiV, cumshot, cum eating, spit play, dirty talk, Joel talks you through it. No outbreak au, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | I AM SO INCREDIBLY LATE TO POST THIS, but this is my entry to @hellishjoel's HOT DILF SUMMER CHALLENGE. I know it's September and this was not my original idea, but it came to me and I wrote this in less than an hour. It's filth and it's nasty and I beg you not to judge me okay? Written and edited on my phone so forgive any mistakes.

Divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’s going to hell. He’s always known it. Despite the years of his parents putting him in his Sunday best and taking him to church each week with his brother, despite his upbringing and the way he’s always tried to be the perfect southern gentleman, Joel Miller is going to hell, and the evidence in right in front of him.

You. His buddy’s daughter. His own daughter’s friend. The bane of his existence for the whole damn summer, with your short dresses and flirty eyes and the way you make him laugh and the way he’s wanted you since you waltzed back into town, masters degree under arm, with one purpose which seemed to be to turn him on at every possible opportunity.

It’s been bubbling for weeks. You’d caught him in the corridor during movie night with Sarah, whilst she was downstairs microwaving popcorn and he’d had no choice but to kiss you, your lips drenched in something that tasted like mango and made him dizzy. Then, at the annual neighbourhood cookout, when you’d dropped a fork and bent over to pick it up, flashing him those skimpy panties as you did, he’d had no choice then but to drag you upstairs and teach you a lesson, ten sharp slaps on your pert ass and strong words that you needed to stop. He doesn’t doubt you went home that night and shoved three fingers into your cunt and dreamt of him as you came.

But now, it’s all real. Sarah’s gone back to college, your parents back to work, and you have nothing lined up until you start getting invited to interview for positions that you’d applied to with a slew of applications about two weeks ago. It’s why you’re on his bed, it’s why he’s left Tommy on site on his own, and why you’re bare as the day you were born, legs spread obscenely, pussy on display as he stands at the foot of his bed and contemplates whether he really should do this.

“Y’scared, old man?” You tease, one hand trailing down your body, two fingers spreading the swollen lips of your cunt, middle finger dipping inside.

He can see the webbing of slick you drag from yourself, finger slow as it circles your clit. His eyes can’t miss the way your hole flutters as you touch yourself, like it’s begging to be filled, begging to be filled by his throbbing cock that he’s currently fisting in his hand.

“Ain’t scared,” He mutters, “Y’sure you wanna do this?”

You don’t speak in response, just dip two fingers back into your weeping cunt and start fucking yourself with them. He squeezes his cock a little tighter in his hand, feeling the weeping of pre-cum at his tip as he watches.

“Ain’t no comin’ back from this.” He muses, moving forward, knees on the mattress, your legs spreading wider to accommodate the width of his thighs.

“Want you,” Is all he hears from your mouth as his cock rests on your pussy, hot and heavy against your skin, “Want your cock, Joel.”

He thrusts his hips a little at that, dragging his length through the soaking folds of your cunt, head rubbing against the swollen bud of your clit.

“Y’sure?” He asks, continuing the rub of his cock, “It’s all over then, baby,” He coos, “I’ll ruin ya.”

“Good,” You groan out, hips shifting to try and catch his tip at your entrance, to try and get exactly what you want, “I want it, Joel, I want it bad.”

“Y’know what I think?” He asks, looking down at you, stopping his movements and opting to circle your clit with his thumb instead, “I reckon we need t’make sure.”

“I am-” You try and protest, but he’s shushing you.

“I reckon,” He says slowly, bringing the tip of his cock to press to your weeping core, “It don’t count if it’s just the tip,” He pushes his hips forward ever so slightly, not enough to sink inside, but enough that he’s already had a taste of what you’ll feel like around him, “Just the tip baby, and then we’ll know.”

He looks down at you and he can see your wild eyes, the way you nod your head against the mattress. You’re such a good girl for him, taking whatever he’ll give you, so he does just that. With three fingers on the base of his cock, he lets the tip of him push inside you, just enough that the head of his cock is nestled inside you, and he knows he’s fucked.

You’re tight and you’re warm and you’re breathing and whimpering for him, and those perfect walls are clenching around him so right and so good that it takes every ounce of self-control he has not to shove his cock all the way in and damn you both to hell.

“Jesus girl,” He breathes, one hand clutching at your hip to hold you still, “Fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?”

You don’t speak back to him, it’s all you can do to lie and try not to writhe too much as he starts his shallow thrusts. The head of his cock popping from your wet cunt and then being sucked back in so perfectly. He’s had his fair share of women since Sarah went to college and he knows he’s a lot to take, knows that he knows what he’s doing too, but when he looks down at you, your eyes tilted back in your skull, cunt squeezing him just right, he can’t help but think this is what he’s been missing.

“That good?” He asks, bringing his thumb back to your clit, swirling wetness across it as he continues the shallow thrusts of his hips.

“Want it all,” You grumble, “Can take it all, Joel.”

“Ain’t got a doubt,” He teases, but doesn’t relent, “But we gotta make sure.”

He wants to lean down, wants to cover your body with his own and suck one of your perfect nipples into his mouth, but he knows the minute he does you’ll beg him so nice and he’ll break, so he resists, swirling his thumb across your clit with more purpose now.

“M’gonna-” You choke out, and he knows, he can feel it, the way you’re fluttering and tightening around the head of his cock so perfectly, “Gonna come, Joel.”

“Yeah?” He asks ruefully, “Gonna come on my cock, pretty girl?” He smiling down at you as your mouth drops open, your cunt pulling painfully tight around him, “Go on, you can do it,” He babbles, trying to fight the tightening in his own stomach until you’ve come for him, “Come for me, baby.”

And you do, by God you do, and he thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. You whine, a high-pitched kind of thing, eyes clamping shut as you arch your back. There’s more slick around his cock than he’s ever seen before, making it easy for the tip of his cock to ease you through it. The convulsing of your walls around him bring him to his own end, using his last braincell to drag the tip from your cunt and give himself three strokes before the thick ropes of his cum are splashing across your swollen pussy. He watches where they land, painting your skin as his own as his head tips back and breathes a sigh of relief.

He know’s he should stop, but there’s something mesmerising about the mix of his cum and your own, the way he’s dripping down you and onto his sheets. His shuffles down a little and leans forward, using his thumbs to spread your pussy open, before he uses his tongue to gather the mess down there. He’s slurping at you, tasting your cunt through his cum, gathering as much of the two of you as he can in his mouth.

You’re moaning for him when his tongue flicks a few times at your sensitive bud, but then his body is over yours, weight pressed against you as one of his hands takes your chin, squeezing at your jaw to get you to open your mouth, which you do, gladly.

Joel opens his own mouth, letting his cum, your slick and his spit drop from his own into your waiting mouth. He doesn’t give you a minute to swallow anything, his tongue mixing with yours in a kiss that is messy and obscene. He can feel your hips against his own, your hot cunt pressing against him. If he was younger, he’d pin you down and fuck you again, this time for real, but all he can do is pull away.

“Swallow it,” He orders, closing your mouth and watching the bob of your throat as you do what he says, producing your tongue for him, “Good fuckin’ girl.”

He unceremoniously collapses onto the bed next to you, arm over his eyes as he tries to recover some semblance of composure. He can feel your body next to his, shuffling a little closer, and then he can hear you stifling a laugh and then before long, it’s not stifled, it’s full on laughter. He takes his arm from his eyes and looks at you, and can’t help but start laughing himself, until his ribs hurt and you’ve calmed down enough, your body draped across his in the mid-afternoon glow.

“This is bad, huh?” You whisper, fingers dancing through the smattering of hair across his chest.

“Terrible, really.” He responds.

“I’m sure though,” And he holds you a little tighter at that, “Next time, I want the whole thing.”

“Don’t worry baby,” He says quietly, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, “You can have whatever you want next time.”

[ego13]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤMINISKIRT ❘❙❚ feat. YU JIMIN

synopsis ࿐ Having found a rather prestigious job for yourself, you couldn't even imagine that your boss had her eye on you, taking advantage of your boyfriend's naivety

pairing ✳ yu jimin x fem!reader ✳ word count 9k+ ✳ setting ✳ buisness AU, buisnesswoman!yu jimin

warnings ࿐ cheating, reader has a boyfriend, jealousy, marking, freaky conversations, cunnilingus, kissing, body worship, cum eating, scissoring (kinda), switching, praise kink, eventual smut, sex toys, strap usage (r!recieving), missionary, cowgirl, doggy style, multiple orgasms, pet names (good girl, sweetheart, doll), semi-hard sex, sex in the water, clit stimulating.

playlist ✳ you won't be able to take your eyes off of me, don't stop me

Across the room, a glass wall separated the lobby from an expansive office.

Behind the desk stood a woman.

Yu Jimin.

You recognized her immediately.

"No, I don’t care what your logs say, I said check the handler before pushing it. How many times do I have to tell you — if you touch the server side without passing QA, you don’t wait for my damn permission. You just don’t do it!"

The man across from her, mid-30s, in a T-shirt and jeans, looked like he wanted to disappear.

"But Jimin-ssi, I thought—"

"Don’t think. Test. Revert the commit. Fix the loop. And tell Minseok to stop patching garbage into mainline before stand-up!"

You froze in the doorway, hesitant to interrupt. But just then, Jimin turned, probably catching your reflection in the glass.

She looked straight at you.

Her expression shifted instantly. The hard edge in her eyes melted, replaced by something more measured. Still alert, but… different.

"Out," she snapped without breaking eye contact. Her voice still firm — but directed entirely at the programmer.

"Y-yeah. Right. Sorry, sunbae," the man stammered, grabbing his laptop and nearly tripping over the chair as he left the office.

Jimin waited until the door clicked shut.

Then, her voice lowered, smoother, almost warm: "You’re the applicant, right? Come in."

You swallowed and stepped inside, forcing your shoulders back, your heartbeat suddenly louder in your ears.

She moved around to the front of her desk, one hand slipping into her pocket. She looked at you carefully — not in the judgmental way you expected, but like she was scanning for something specific. Noticing.

"I’m Yu Jimin," she said, holding your gaze. "Nice to meet you."

You stepped closer, bowed politely, then fumbled to pull your resume from your bag. Your fingers felt slightly stiff as you handed it over.

"Here’s my resume," you said, trying not to sound nervous.

She took it with one hand, flipping it open with practiced ease. She glanced down, eyes scanning the page, then back up at you. Her mouth tugged into a faint smile.

"You studied law," she noted. "Dongguk University?"

"Yes," you said, nodding once. "Graduated last year."

"Good." She looked you over again — gladly not in a disapproving way. Her eyes lingered a second longer than necessary before returning to the paper. "And you’ve got decent language certifications. Any actual office experience?"

You shifted your weight. "Just part-time admin work during school. Filing, basic scheduling. Nothing serious."

Yu hummed, closing the resume slowly. "I see."

Her eyes locked on yours again. "You’re pretty young. Most people applying here for assistant or analyst roles are already in their late thirties."

You nodded, unsure what to say.

She tilted her head slightly, the edge of her lip pulling upward. "But you look like the type that learns fast."

You blinked.

There was a moment of silence. Then she leaned against the edge of her desk, still facing you.

"Do people tell you you have a very… calm face? Like you don’t get flustered easily," she said.

"I—uh… not really," you replied, confused. "I'm actually flustered all the time."

That made her laugh, low and quick. "At least you're honest."

You felt your cheeks warm slightly.

Jimin tapped your resume against her palm, still watching you. "Do you mind if I ask something not on here?"

You shook your head. "No, go ahead."

"Are you single?"

You stared at her.

She smiled, unapologetic. "Sorry, that was inappropriate. You don’t have to answer that. Just — curious."

You forced a small laugh, unsure how to respond. "It’s okay. Uh… no, I have a boyfriend."

Her eyebrow arched slightly, but she let it hang there without commenting further. She set your resume down on the desk and crossed her arms.

"Alright," she said, her tone returning to something closer to professional. "I’ll be straight with you. The position I have open isn’t glamorous. It’s a mix of scheduling, document review, fielding calls, and sometimes dealing with my CTO’s bad temper."

You nodded. "I can handle that."

"I’m sure you can."

She pushed herself off the desk and walked back around to her chair, gesturing for you to sit in the one opposite.

"Let’s talk details, then."

"So, the position is technically 'executive assistant,'" she said, tapping a pen lightly on your resume. "But in reality, it’s a secretary role. Mostly supporting me directly."

You nodded. "That's fine. I don’t mind handling basic tasks."

"You’d manage my calendar, coordinate meetings, handle follow-up emails, and — occasionally — remind me to eat something before I collapse." She gave a small smirk. "It’s not the most thrilling job in the world, but I do value people who can keep things running."

"I understand. I’m organized. And I don’t mind repetitive work."

She tilted her head again, watching you.

"You strike me as someone who's careful. Neat handwriting, polite tone, dressed conservatively… very by-the-book." Her eyes scanned your outfit briefly. "Your boyfriend must like that about you."

You blinked, not expecting her to bring that back up. "I guess. I mean, we have our differences."

"Mm. He must be a lucky guy," she said casually, resting her chin on her hand. "Though personally, I find it a bit wasteful."

"Wasteful?"

She shrugged. "Letting someone like you spend your best years covering for a guy who plays games all day. If it were me, I wouldn’t let you leave the apartment in the morning without at least three compliments and a decent breakfast."

You didn’t know what to say to that. You gave a small, awkward smile, but looked away.

Jimin leaned back slightly, still watching. "Sorry. I’m being too forward again."

"It’s okay," you muttered. "I just didn’t expect this kind of interview."

"Neither did I," she said quietly, almost to herself.

There was a brief silence before she clicked her pen and returned to a neutral tone.

"Anyway. It's a full-time position. Nine to six, Monday to Friday. Sometimes later, depending on deadlines. Pay starts at 2.8 million won a month, plus lunch stipend, transportation allowance, and health coverage."

You nodded quickly. "That’s fair. More than I expected, honestly."

"Good." She paused, then added, "If you’re hired, you'll also need to sign a confidentiality agreement. We work with a few sensitive clients."

"That’s not a problem."

Jimin gave a small nod, then tapped your resume once more before setting it aside.

"I like you," she said plainly. "You seem grounded. Honest. A little too stiff maybe — but that can be unlearned."

You blinked again. "Thanks… I think."

"That was a compliment," she added, smirking, "Even if you have a boyfriend."

Your breath caught slightly. "You’re very direct."

"I don’t like wasting time."

Jimin’s fingers lingered at your waist just a second longer before she reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair from your face.

"You really shouldn’t be going home alone after drinking," she said quietly. "Even if it's just a couple glasses."

"I’m fine," you replied, your voice quieter now. "It’s just the subway, twenty minutes and I'm home."

She shook her head once. "No. I’d rather not risk it."

Before you could argue, she was already stepping away, reaching into her blazer pocket and pulling out her phone.

"I’ll call my driver. He’s downstairs. He can take you wherever you need to go."

You watched her, caught somewhere between flattered and confused. "Jimin, really, you don’t have to—"

"I know I don’t." She glanced at you again, her tone softer. "But I want to."

There was a pause while she tapped something out, then she looked up again.

"He’ll be out front in five. Black Genesis sedan. Plate ends in 78."

You exhaled slowly. "Okay… thanks."

She came closer again, standing in front of you but not too close this time.

"It’s nothing. You’ve had a long day, and you still managed to hold yourself together like a pro. Least I can do is make sure you get home safe."

You nodded, feeling your heartbeat still a little fast — not from the alcohol, but from her. From the way she looked at you like she actually saw you.

"Let me grab my things," you murmured.

She nodded once. "I’ll walk you out."

You picked up your bag, the warmth of the office still clinging to you as she opened the door. For a brief second before stepping into the hallway, you glanced back at her — still half in disbelief that a woman like her was showing this kind of attention. And care.

Jimin caught your glance and gave you a small smile. "Let’s go."

The elevator ride down was quiet, but not uncomfortable. She stood beside you, hands in her pockets, glancing over once or twice but saying nothing.

As the elevator doors opened in the lobby, the driver was already visible through the glass doors outside, standing next to a sleek black Genesis parked at the curb.

You stepped forward, but Jimin suddenly reached out and took your bag from your shoulder.

"Hey—"

She shook her head. "You’ve had enough on your back today," she said simply. "Let me."

You blinked at her. "It’s really not that heavy—"

"I didn’t say it was." She slung the strap over her own shoulder, ignoring your protest. "I just don’t want you carrying it."

You gave her a look, but didn’t argue again. There was something firm but not aggressive in her tone — like she didn’t see it as a favor, just a given.

The driver opened the back door as the two of you approached. Jimin handed off the bag to him gently. Then she turned to you.

"He knows where to take you. I texted him your address already."

You stared at her. "Jimin, you’re... really something else, you know that?"

Her smile was slow. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

You climbed into the backseat. Before you could close the door, Jimin leaned down slightly, just outside the frame.

"Text me when you get home. Just so I know."

You nodded. "Okay."

She paused for a second, then added, "And try to get some sleep. Tomorrow might be your first day, if you’re still interested."

You couldn’t help but smile. "Yeah. I am."

With that, she stepped back, and the driver closed the door.

The car pulled up in front of the apartment building just as the sky started to turn that soft grey before sunset. The driver stepped out and came around to your side, opening the door with a quiet, "Miss, we're here."

You nodded, thanking him softly as he helped you out. The black Genesis looked completely out of place on your quiet street. As you adjusted your bag on your shoulder, you noticed Yunho standing at the front gate, leaning on the railing with a familiar scowl.

His eyes were locked on the car, then shifted to the driver, then to you.

You didn’t say anything as you walked past him toward the building entrance. He walked behind you.

"Nice ride," he muttered, the sarcasm already thick in his voice.

You kept walking, trying to keep your expression neutral. But by the time you unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside, you could already hear the frustration in his voice building up behind you.

"So who the hell was that?"

You dropped your bag, taking off your shoes. "My new boss’s driver. She didn’t want me going home alone after drinks."

"She?" Yunho raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "And she just sends a luxury car like you're some damn CEO?"

You looked over your shoulder. "What’s your problem?"

"My problem?" he snapped. "You show up in a car that costs more than this building, some guy opening your door like you’re royalty, and you don’t even think to explain?"

You turned to face him fully now, jaw tight. "Because I didn’t think I had to explain basic decency. It was a job interview. A good one. With a woman who actually take their work seriously."

His eyes narrowed. "And what? You’re suddenly impressed with her because she got money and fancy cars?"

"No," you said sharply. "Because she work. She built something. She do more than sit around playing League all day waiting for a miracle that’s not coming."

That hit. He flinched slightly, but recovered with bitterness.

"So now I’m the loser again."

"I didn’t say that," you replied, even though the words were hanging in the air.

"Yeah, but you didn’t need to." He scoffed. "Guess it’s easy to look down on me now that you’ve had drinks with billionaires."

You sighed. "I’m tired, Yunho. I’ve been tired for a long time. I just want a future that isn’t built on excuses."

He didn’t reply.

You picked up your bag again and walked into the bedroom, needing to be alone. For a moment, you considered texting Jimin like she asked.

But instead, you sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, thinking about how quickly everything could change — and whether you'd be brave enough to let it.

You stood by the bed, pulling an old hoodie over your tank top, when your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You glanced at the screen. Yu Jimin.

It was already past 10 p.m. You hesitated for a second — normal people didn’t call at this hour for anything work-related — but you still picked it up.

"Hello?"

There was a pause, then her voice came through, low and smooth, a little rough like she’d either been drinking something warm or was just naturally that way late at night.

"Hey. I hope I’m not bothering you."

You sat down on the edge of the bed again. "No. Just got home a while ago."

Another pause, lighter this time. "Did my driver get you home okay?"

"Yeah, he was polite. Thank you again."

"Mmh," she hummed. "I told him not to be too polite. I wanted to be the one to spoil you."

You exhaled through a short laugh, not sure how to respond to that.

There was a rustling sound on her end, like she was leaning back into a couch or bed. Then she asked, softly, "How are you feeling?"

You blinked. It wasn’t a usual question — not when coming from someone you barely met a few hours ago. But it was genuine. You could tell.

"A little overwhelmed, honestly. But... not in a bad way."

"I figured," Jimin said. "It was a long day. But you did well. I meant it when I said I want you on the team."

You nodded slowly, even though she couldn’t see it.

"And," she continued, voice still smooth, "I have a business trip. Paris. Airplane. Tomorrow. Boring tech meeting with men who’ll repeat the same pitch three different ways. I’m supposed to attend... but I don’t really want to go alone."

You sat up straighter. "You want me to come with you?"

Jimin chuckled softly. "Well, officially, I’ll say I need a secretary with me. You know, someone to help coordinate meetings and smile politely."

"And unofficially?"

"Unofficially, I just want to look across the table and see you there so I don’t fall asleep."

You didn’t know what to say. You stared at the floor for a moment, then bit your lip. "You’re really asking me to fly to Paris with you?"

"Yes," she said simply. "One night in a suite, nice food, we come back after the meeting. Think of it as a trial run for the job. Or... just an excuse to get to know each other better."

You looked over toward the closed door of the living room where Yunho had gone quiet. Then back down at your phone.

"Okay," you said, quietly but firmly. "I’ll go."

There was silence for half a beat. Then a pleased hum on the other end. "Good girl."

Your cheeks flushed.

"I’ll have my assistant book everything," she added, voice softening again. "Just bring yourself."

"Thanks for the invitation," you said, letting your voice drop just a little, a teasing edge slipping in. "I'll try not to embarrass you in Paris."

Jimin laughed on the other end. "I’m counting on you to distract everyone, actually."

You bit your lip, smiling to yourself. "Then I’ll pack something nice."

"You better."

The line went quiet after that, and you set your phone down on the nightstand, heart still beating a little faster than usual. You stood up, ran a hand through your hair, then walked to the closet.

You opened the suitcase you hadn’t used in over a year, dragging it out from the bottom shelf. It was a little dusty. You unzipped it, already thinking through what you’d need.

You were halfway through folding a shirt when Yunho's voice came from the doorway behind you.

"What the hell are you doing?"

You didn’t turn around right away. Just kept folding the shirt, slower this time. "Packing."

He scoffed. "No shit. Where are you going?"

"Paris. For work."

You heard his footstep into the room. "With who? That fancy company that sent you home in a private car like you’re some VIP?"

You turned around now, meeting his gaze. He looked like he hadn’t moved from the couch since you left.

"Yes," you said flatly. "YJ Group. My boss invited me to go with her for a meeting. It's work."

He stared at you, then laughed once, sarcastically. "Your boss. Yeah, I bet."

You crossed your arms. "You wanna do this now?"

"You're really just gonna run off with some rich stranger because she gave you a ride in a nice car?"

You stepped around the suitcase. "No, I'm going because she offered me a job. A real job. Something you haven't bothered to look for in months."

"That's low."

"No," you said, pointing at him now, "what's low is sitting on your ass every day, gaming with your friends, pretending you're gonna magically become some pro player while I'm the one stressing about rent, bills, everything."

He was quiet. Not because you’d gone too far—because you hadn’t.

You turned back to the suitcase. "I’m going. You don’t have to like it."

He stood there for a second longer, jaw tight. Then he turned and walked out.

You zipped the suitcase closed.

You lay down on the bed with your suitcase closed and standing near the door, ready. The apartment was quiet now.

You stared up at the ceiling, the dim light from the hallway spilling in just enough to make out the outline of the fan above.

Everything still felt a bit surreal.

Just yesterday, you'd been checking job boards with zero leads and zero hope. Now, you were flying to Paris with the founder of one of the most talked-about tech companies in the country. And not just flying — invited. Personally, not just email that her assistant would sent her. For "business."

But it wasn’t just the job that occupied your thoughts.

It was Jimin.

Her voice still echoed in your head—calm, smooth, slightly rough like she’d been talking all day, but always careful when she spoke to you. The way her eyes had lingered when you first walked into the office. The casual touch at your waist.

You exhaled slowly and turned to your side, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

It was insane. She was your boss. You had a boyfriend — barely. But still.

And yet, your last thought before falling asleep wasn’t about Yunho, or your resume, or the meeting ahead.

It was about her.

What it would feel like to sit beside her on the plane?

To hear her laugh in person again?

To see what she looked like outside the damn office — off guard, relaxed.

Then, eyes slowly closed.

You woke up to the weight of an arm around your waist and the faint heat of breath against the back of your neck.

Then realization hit you — Yunho.

His arm was draped lazily over you like nothing had happened last night. Like he hadn’t stood in the doorway accusing you of sleeping your way into a promotion. Like he hadn’t sat around for months doing nothing while you scrambled to hold everything together.

You stared at the wall for a long moment. His touch didn’t feel comforting. It felt heavy. Clingy. Like something that used to mean safety but now just made your skin crawl.

Carefully, you slid your hand under his wrist and lifted his arm off you. He stirred but didn’t wake. You sat up slowly, then swung your legs over the side of the bed.

You didn’t look back.

The floor was cold under your feet as you walked to the bathroom, shutting the door with a quiet click. You turned on the light, squinting for a second, then faced yourself in the mirror.

You turned on the tap and splashed cold water on your face. It shocked you awake, and for a moment you just stood there, dripping, palms braced on the sink.

You stepped out of the bathroom, towel still draped around your shoulders, when your phone buzzed on the dresser. You picked it up, half expecting a message — but instead, Jimin’s name lit up the screen.

You hesitated, then answered.

"Hello?"

Her voice came through smooth and unhurried. "Morning. I’m downstairs."

You blinked. "Wait—what?"

"I figured we could go to the airport together," she said casually, then added, a hint of playfulness creeping into her voice, "Is that a problem?"

You glanced down at yourself — damp hair, still in your robe, your suitcase half-zipped on the floor.

"I’m not ready. At all," you admitted, pressing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you reached for the blow dryer. "You should’ve told me you were coming."

"Wanted to surprise you," Jimin said, a low chuckle in her throat. "But I don’t mind waiting. Take your time. I just wanted to see your face this morning."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile pulling at your lips. "Give me ten minutes. Fifteen tops."

"I’ll be right here," she said. "Take your time, seriously. I’ll just sit here, imagine what you look like all flustered and running around in a towel."

You flushed despite yourself. "Goodbye, Jimin."

You dressed quickly but carefully — nothing over the top, just a clean blouse, black slacks and a light jacket.

Before you left, you stood for a moment in the doorway of the bedroom.

Yunho was still asleep, sprawled across the bed like he hadn’t moved since you left it. The blankets were tangled around his legs, one arm hanging over the edge. Peaceful, useless, oblivious.

You didn’t feel angry anymore. Just... done.

You closed the door behind you quietly, pulling the handle until you heard the latch click.

The elevator ride down was silent. Just the hum of the old motor and the dull flicker of fluorescent lights. Then the doors opened — and there she was.

Jimin stood beside a sleek, black Genesis G90, parked right in front of the building like it belonged there. She was dressed sharptailored slacks, an expensive-looking trench coat, sunglasses pushed up on her head — and in her hand, a small bouquet of red roses.

You blinked.

She smiled as you stepped out into the morning air. "For you," she said, holding the flowers out. "Don’t read into it. I just thought they’d suit you."

You hesitated, then took them. "Thanks... You didn’t have to do that."

"Maybe not," she replied with a slight smirk, "but I wanted to."

She opened the car door for you herself, like it was nothing, like it was natural. You slipped in, setting the flowers gently on your lap as the driver closed the trunk on your suitcase and moved around to the front.

Jimin got in next to you, and just before the car pulled away from the curb, she looked over at you.

"You look so good, by the way," she said, tone casual — but there was something behind her eyes that made your skin feel warm. "Worth the wait."

You tried not to smile too much. "You’re not so bad yourself."

You shifted slightly in your seat, the bouquet of roses still resting in your lap, their scent faint but sweet.

Her eyes kept drifting — casually at first, but then less so.

"You really do look good today," she said suddenly, her voice low but clear. "It’s not just polite small talk. I mean it."

You glanced at her, trying not to seem caught off guard. "Thanks. I tried to look presentable."

"It’s more than that," she replied, resting her arm along the door. "You’ve got this... natural thing going. Like you’re not even trying, but you walk in and somehow turn all the attention to you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure the attention’s on you. You're the one with the billion-won company."

She gave a short laugh. "Business is boring. People like to act impressed, but it's just money. you, though—" she paused, letting her eyes linger on you for just a second longer than was casual, "—you're interesting."

You looked out the window for a moment, heartbeat steady but quick. "You don’t even know me that well."

"Not yet," she said, tone playful, but not joking, "we will have time in Paris to get to know each other... better."

Silence settled between you for a few seconds, comfortable, not awkward.

Jimin reached into the center console and pulled out a small bottle of water, handing it to you. "Drink it. I don’t want you passing out on the plane. That would ruin the vibe."

You accepted it, chuckling under your breath. "Thanks, boss."

"Call me Jimin," she said smoothly. "We're not in the office now."

You glanced at her again, and she gave you a look that lingered a little too long to be just friendly.

The car sped on toward the airport, and for the first time in a while, you felt a kind of nervousness you didn't mind at all.

At the curb outside the airport, the car eased to a stop. You could even think to move, Jimin was already circling around the car.

"I’ve got it," she said, reaching into the trunk herself and grabbing both your suitcase and hers without hesitation, by that time one of her attendants approached her.

She waved off the him, who looked like he was about to protest. "It’s fine. I don’t want her carrying anything."

You blinked, a little surprised. "Jimin, I can carry my own bag."

She turned her head slightly, giving you that half-smile she seemed to reserve just for moments like this. "And yet, I’d rather do it. Come on."

With both bags in hand, she walked with confident strides toward the sliding glass doors of the terminal. You followed a half-step behind, feeling the stares from a few passersby.

Inside, she made a direct line for the business check-in counter, bypassing the lines entirely. An attendant spotted her immediately and motioned her forward.

"Miss Yu," the woman said politely with a quick bow. "We’ve been expecting you. Everything is ready."

Jimin nodded, setting the bags down gently and placing her ID on the counter. "And my guest. She’s with me."

The attendant looked at you, then smiled and gave another respectful nod. "Of course. Right away."

You shifted awkwardly beside Jimin as they processed the check-in. She glanced sideways at you and leaned in just slightly.

"Relax, doll," she murmured, "this part’s the easiest. No pressure. Just stick with me."

You gave a small nod, trying not to seem out of place in the well-dressed, fast-paced atmosphere.

Within a few minutes, the boarding passes were printed, the luggage tagged and taken, and the attendant was handing back her documents with both hands.

"Enjoy your flight, Miss Yu."

She took the passes and handed yours to you before gently guiding you toward the private security lane.

"You’re handling this pretty well," she said quietly, almost teasingly. "Some people get overwhelmed on their first trip with me."

You smirked, walking beside her. "I guess I’m just built different."

Jimin glanced at you with a faint smile.

The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal speakers, and you followed Jimin toward the gate, your steps slowing a little as the walkway to the plane came into view.

The faint rumble of jet engines outside was louder than you remembered. It had been years since you’d last flown—and never on something this fancy.

You stopped short just before the boarding agent could scan your pass, your grip tightening slightly around the paper ticket.

Jimin, already a few steps ahead, turned immediately when she realized you weren’t beside her. Her eyes flicked to your face, catching the hesitation.

Without a word, she passed both her designer travel bag and yours to the tall, suited man who had been trailing them silently since the car — her bodyguard, walked right back to you.

She didn’t ask anything. Didn’t say a word at first.

Then, to your surprise, she crouched down on one knee in front of you, her hands reaching up to gently take yours.

"Hey," she said, voice low and calm, eyes level with yours, "you okay?"

You swallowed and gave a small nod, trying to play it off. "I just… haven’t flown in a long time. It’s stupid, I know."

"Not stupid." She squeezed your hands lightly. "You’re stepping into something new. That always messes with your head a bit."

You glanced around, a little embarrassed, but no one seemed to care. The gate agent gave you space, and the few people nearby looked away politely.

Jimin tilted her head. "Want me to say something comforting?"

You nodded hesitantly.

She paused, pretending to think hard, then gave you a crooked grin. "Okay. Deep breath. Ready?"

You nodded again.

"I have absolutely no idea how to calm down scared girls," she said, straight-faced. "But you're cute when you're nervous, so I’m just going to stay here until you feel better. Is that working?"

You let out a shaky laugh despite yourself, the tension easing slightly.

"Kind of."

"Kind of is good enough," she said, then stood smoothly, brushing imaginary dust from her slacks. She didn’t let go of your hand. "Come on. I’ll sit next to you the whole way. And if you get scared mid-air, I promise not to make fun of you more than twice."

You rolled your eyes but followed her, finally stepping through the gate and onto the plane.

Inside the private jet, everything looked more like a high-end hotel lounge than anything that should be airborne.

You sank into one of the cream-colored seats next to Jimin, still holding onto the remnants of your earlier nerves, though they were steadily being replaced by a sense of disbelief.

The flight attendant, dressed in a perfectly tailored navy uniform, approached with a polite smile and handed each of you a thick, high-quality menu. All of it — every single item — was printed in French.

You stared at the page, trying to make sense of the cursive typography, but gave up after the third item. "I have no idea what any of this means," you muttered.

Jimin peeked at your menu, then gave you a teasing look. "You mean you didn’t study fine dining terms in law school?"

You rolled your eyes. "Sorry, no. We barely got through Latin."

She chuckled, flipping open her own menu. "Alright, let’s see. 'Foie gras' — that’s duck liver, but like… the fancy kind. And this one — 'homard rôti' — that’s roasted lobster. Worth trying."

You nodded slowly, trying to keep up.

"'Velouté de cèpes' — mushroom soup, but the expensive type. And this one…" She pointed to a long line near the bottom, "'Chocolat noir aux épices douces' — dark chocolate dessert with sweet spices. Probably the best thing here."

"So basically everything costs more because it sounds better in French," you joked.

Jimin grinned, leaning a little closer to you, her shoulder brushing yours. "Exactly. But don’t worry, I’ll order for you. I’ll make sure you don’t accidentally end up with something raw and moving."

You laughed quietly, grateful for the way she made this all feel less overwhelming.

The low hum of the jet was oddly calming. You sat back in the wide leather seat, feeling the unfamiliar weight of luxury around you. Across from you, Jimin was already speaking smoothly in French to the flight attendant, her tone casual but confident.

"Deux portions de filet de bar avec légumes grillés. Une salade niçoise. Et... la bouteille de Dom Pérignon, 2013, s’il vous plaît."

«Two portions of sea bass fillet with grilled vegetables. A Niçoise salad. And... the bottle of Dom Pérignon, 2013, please.»

The attendant nodded and disappeared quietly into the galley.

Jimin turned her attention back to you, crossing one leg over the other. Her eyes rested on you for a moment before she spoke.

"So," she said, lightly. "How did your boyfriend take the news?"

You hesitated, then shrugged. "Not well."

Jimin tilted her head. "Predictable."

You let out a breath. "He didn’t understand. Just saw the car. Assumed the worst."

"Typical," Jimin muttered, her voice dry. "You know..." She leaned in just a bit, elbows on her knees. "Someone like you shouldn’t be stuck with someone like that."

You looked up, unsure how to respond.

She continued, "You’re smart. Gorgeous. Trying to build something for yourself. And he? He’s waiting to ‘make it’ in a video game while you carry the weight of both your futures."

You glanced down at your phone, buzzing silently on the armrest. Yunho.

You stared at his name for a second. No message, just the call.

Then, without a word, you tapped the airplane icon on the screen. The signal vanished.

Jimin watched quietly as you set the phone down, face down.

You looked up again, managing a faint smile.

"Good," she said softly. Then she poured two glasses of champagne and handed you one.

“To new beginnings.”

The attendant returned with their meals, placing the plates down on the small table between you and Jimin. The smell hit you first — fresh, delicate, not overly seasoned. Just… clean. Refined.

You picked up your fork, carefully cutting off a small piece of the sea bass fillet. The texture was soft but held together well, and as soon as you took a bite, your eyes widened slightly.

"Oh my god," you said, surprised. "I’ve never tasted anything like this."

She smiled behind her glass as she took another sip of champagne. "It’s line-caught Mediterranean sea bass. Very light. They cook it at just the right temp so it doesn’t lose moisture."

You looked at her, fork halfway to your mouth again.

"Some of the Michelin kitchens I’ve been to," she continued casually, “they poach it gently in olive oil, sometimes with a touch of citrus and white wine. But this one’s grilled. Clean, simple. No heavy sauces to cover the flavor.”

You chewed slowly, appreciating it more with every bite. "I didn’t know fish could taste like this," you muttered, almost to yourself.

She grinned. "You’d be surprised what food is like when people care about the details. When it’s not just… whatever’s cheap and fast."

You nodded quietly, sipping your champagne. Even that tasted better than you expected — sharp and crisp, but soft as it went down. You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the company, but your shoulders had started to relax.

Jimin didn’t push the conversation. She just sat with you, eating slowly, saying little, glancing over at you now and then with that slight, unreadable smile.

You arrived in Paris late in the evening. The hotel room was spacious and modern, with a large window framing a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower glowing softly in the distance.

Jimin was busy unpacking her things — carefully folding clothes, setting them neatly on the dresser. You stood by the window, staring out at the city, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

Noticing you, Jimin paused and smiled faintly. She stepped behind you quietly and, almost without thinking, wrapped her arms gently around your waist.

You stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into her hold.

She leaned in slightly, her voice low and teasing. "Not used to views like this, huh?"

You glanced back at her, managing a small smile. "No, not really."

She stayed close, the city lights reflecting softly in her eyes. "Good. Then maybe it’s time you got used to better things."

Her hands slid to your shoulders, gently kneading the tense muscles, causing you to sigh in relaxation, leaning slightly against her. "Would you like me to run a jacuzzi for you?"

You didn't say anything, just nodded silently, after which you felt the absence of her hands on your body, which made you slightly disappointed, but you didn't have to wait long. Ten minutes later she returned to you, smiling warmly and taking your hand, "come on, I will take care of you tonight."

At the corner of the bathroom stood a massive, sunken jacuzzi tub, already filled with steaming, bubbling water. The scent of lavender and vanilla wafted through the air, the soothing aroma of the essential oils she had added to the water.

"Sweetheart, let me help you get undressed," she offered, but her hands already working on the buttons of your shirt. She took her time, her fingers brushing against your skin with every button she undid, savoring the feel of her soft flesh against her fingertips.

She slid it off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. Leaned down, letting you to take all chances to pull back, but as she understood that you had no intention to back off, she captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss as her hands reached behind to unhook your bra. She let it fall away, breaking the kiss to toss it aside carelessly.

"You're so fucking beautiful, doll," she breathed, reaching out to trail her fingertips along the swell of your breasts, feeling the weight of them in her palms. "I could spend hours just looking at you."

She took your hand gently, helping you into the warm water, the way the water touched your tense shoulders made you close your eyes, enjoying the feeling of your aching muscles relaxing.

Opening your eyes, you saw Jimin slowly unbuttoning her pants, letting them slide down her long, skinny legs, before sending the outerwear down the same path to the floor. Stepping over the edge of the jacuzzi, she carefully appeared behind you, the steam rising around her as she settled into the water.

She pulled your back against her chest, wrapping her arms around your waist. "Come here, doll," she cooed, holding you close as she leaned back against the built-in cushion of the tub.

She could feel you against her, melting into her arms as the warm water soothed you. Her arms began to gently rub your shoulders, fingers working out any lingering tension.

As she massaged sore muscles, she pressed gentle kisses along the side of your neck, her lips lingering on the smooth skin. "You're so tense, baby. Let me help you relax," she cooed, her hands sliding up to your neck to knead the knots there.

Again. Hands slid lower, tracing the curve of your spine before coming to rest on your hips, gripping them gently. "You know, you have such a beautiful back," she murmured, her lips brushing against your shoulder blade. "I swear, I could spend hours exploring it."

Her fingers began to knead the muscles of you lower back, working out any remaining tension. She could feel the way your body body growing heavy and relaxed, melting. "That's my good girl," Jimin praised, her voice a low, intimate rumble. "Can you just let yourself go, sweetheart? Let me take care of you like no one can, I swear."

Jimin's hands slowly slid around to your stomach, fingers splaying across the soft skin. She pulled you more closer, hugging you from behind as the warm water lapped at your skin. "You need someone who can take care of you like I can," her cheek resting against the top of your head. "You need someone, with whom you won't have to count every penny and think whether you'll have enough to pay the bills tomorrow, you need me, doll."

"I want to touch every part of you, sweetheart," she breathed against your neck, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin. "I want to make you feel pleasure that would be beyond anything you've ever experienced in your life."

Her thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive nub with teasing strokes. She could feel you squirming against her touch, the way your hips rocking instinctively to meet her touch.

"Yeah? Do you like it?" she chuckled, burying her nose in the crook of your neck, while her movements, as if mockingly, became faster and slower, as if not giving you a chance to get used to such sensations. "I know you do, doll, this is not even half of what I will do to you tonight."

You barely heard her words, all of it mixed in unison with the phantom sensations of her touches on your body, with the pleasant, warm and slightly dim lighting of this jacuzzi, and the smell of essential oils that were added to the water like an additional drug to quickly drive you crazy.

"I'm ready to spend millions just to see you like this every day, at my disposal," Jimin bit her bottom lip as she heard your uncontrollable whines getting louder with each passing second, "and I think you won't mind."

She said the last sentence with a smirk, and fuck, of course she was right, you've never experienced anything like this, not even close, her touch, her words.

Too well, despite her teasing, she listened attentively to all the sounds that flew out of your mouth, as if with her ears trying to catch that very painful note that would make her stop, even though that was the last thing she wanted right now.

But your comfort was the most important thing now, and that's why when she didn't felt the resistance of your body, she just continued, knowing that right now you want it no less than she does.

"Come on, sweetheart," she babbled, the gentle yet still trembling tone of her voice making you arch your back, pressing your back against her chest, "you don't want to disappoint me, do you?"

Your walls started to clamp around nothing, and feeling this pleasant pulsation, she understood that you were close, and the particularly high moan that flew out of your mouth only confirmed this.

"That's my good girl," she immediately praised, but did not allow you to rest, her hands again slid to your hips, forcing you to turn towards her, ending up on her lap.

This change of position caused some water in the hot tub to spill overboard, but obviously now you both didn't care.

"You're so beautiful, gow many times have I told you this today?" Her words made you smile, "more than necessary," you replied, looking at her face while your lips were almost a millimeter apart.

"Never, I'm ready to repeat this to you at least a hundred times until you understand it." And with that, she captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

She poured all of herself into her touch, her love, her yearing for you, her all-consuming need for the beautiful girl in her arms. Tongue delved deep, intertwining with yours.

Breaking the kiss, she trailed her lips down the column of your throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the racing pulse she found there. She sucked lightly, leaving barely noticeable red marks from her teeth every time she bit a little harder than necessary.

At one point she felt your hands on her shoulders, forcing her to lean her back against the back of the jacuzzi, which she calmly allowed you to do, as if giving you a flag in your hands.

You spread her legs, bending them at the knees. At that moment you dazed gaze immediately rushes between her thighs.

Her flesh shines invitingly, that's what made you bite your lower lip, seeing such a strong and seemingly cold-blooded woman for the first time at your mercy. You were slowly saddle her leg to slide straight her older crotch. Her large palms immediately cover your round buttocks, pulling them even closer to her.

"Fuck... so good, sweetheart," she exhaled, watching as you looked straight into her eyes without a drop of shame, slowly starting to move, "really? When you're on the bottom, you look even better than usual." You said as you felt Jimin's hands force your hips to push against her own.

You cover your mouth with trembling hand, and Jimin does not take her excited gaze away from the place where their hips collide. This view really drove her crazy, making her want you even more, although it seemed like where else could it be?

"The hottest view I've ever had in my life," she said with a grin, she says greedily, licking her lips. She doesn't stop kneading the younger's soft buttocks and furiously rubbing her groin against her, catching your clumsy thrusts and half-strangled sobs.

You placed your palms on her stomach under the water, your hair sticks to her crimson cheeks, lips are dry, and you are both quite tense and focused on thrusting, because you both felt the approaching climax becoming more and more tangible.

You falls onto her chest with a drawn-out groan, continuing to twitch convulsively, and she herself presses her wet groin tightly against your folds, while she impatiently lifted your hips to increase the friction between them and prolong the pleasure spreading between her legs.

You both realized that you clearly didn't want to stop now, which is why, after a few minutes, your gazes met again, and you both understood each other without words.

Getting out of the hot tub as quickly as possible, you slowly wrapped your arms around her neck, jumping into her arms, wrapping your arms around her bare waist. Hands gripped your hips tightly as you both walked out of the bathroom, and despite the cold temperature contrast with the hot bath, you both made your way to the bed.

Jimin carefully laid you on your back, hovering over you, she grabs the soft roundness of your breasts with her palms, squeezes them through her own trembling and impatience, she sank lower, kisses your sunken stomach, inhaling the faint scent of your desire.

You don't hold back your moans when she does it especially well for you, but sometimes you react at all, and at other moments on the contrary, you felt everything too sensitively, not even understanding why your body reacted so much to her touches.

Your toes curl convulsively with pleasure. She looked up at you, her eyes dark and hazy with desire as she took in the exquisite sight of you arched against the pillows, your back bowed in pleasure.

"Quite the sight," she said, licking her lower lips, "Is it really me who has this influence on you?"

This question made you lift your head from the pillows, looking at her with a look that literally said "what-is-this-fucking-question", but despite this, you found the strength to answer with maximum restraint, despite the excess of feelings and emotions that were seething inside you, "and who else?"

She seemed to be satisfied with your answer, helped guide your legs up and over her shoulders, the soft skin of your inner thighs brushing against her cheeks, she leaned in closer, breath hot and heavy against your dripping core as she gazed up at your face, taking in every expression that flitted across your features.

"If you had said your boyfriend's name, I swear I would have killed you right now," with this words, she dove in, tongue delving deep into you, swirling and stroking your inner walls. She licked and suckled, her movements deliberate and focused on giving you the most of the pleasure she could ever give you.

Jimin's nose nestling against your mound as her tongue continued assault on your aching clit, the feeling of that stimulation made your body shudder.

"Fuck, baby..." She breathed, before diving back in again, rough surface of tongue delving deeper into your folds. She licked and sucked, her tongue curling to hit that spongy perfect spot inside you, "sweetheart, It feels like I can't get enough of you."

She could feel your body trembling, hear your breathy moans filling the room as she worked up you closer to your peak, your thighs tensing around her head, your body arching off the bed as the coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter.

Inner walls clamped down around the tip of her tongue as wave after wave of your orgasm crashed over you, your back arching sharply as you cried out for the last time.

The way your juices gushed, staining her chin turned her on even more, forcing her to obediently swallow every last drop.

With her lips moving up along the skin of your stomach, she chuckled, still feeling the tremors that seemed like they weren't going to leave your body.

"The most beautiful orgasm I've ever seen in my life," she giggled, licking the beads of sweat that were running down your wet body from your collarbone, skillfully catching each one with her tongue, "and it's clearly not the last."

It made you look at her questioningly, you saw the sly way she looked at you and it made you burn with anticipation. Not the last one?

"Are you up to something, Jimin?" you asked, your eyebrows raised in question, watching as instead of answering, she just smirked and moved away from you, taking her suitcase out from under the bed.

"You know, call me a freak, but I took something interesting on the trip with you," she said in a voice that was full of mystery, and in this voice you couldn’t even understand whether she was joking or speaking in all seriousness.

You didn't see what she was doing, you just heard a barely audible click, which made you wonder, is she fastening something? What is she doing?

But all the questions disappeared as soon as she straightened up, she started to slip the harness on, adjusting the straps until it fit snugly against her hips and thighs. The silicone of strap juttted out obscenely, bobbing with each movement as she positioned herself between your legs once more.

"A fucking strap-on, Yu Jimin?" You asked in surprise, despite the fact that this scenario clearly did not frighten or disgust you, "Are you seriously took it "with us" to Paris?"

Your surprised remarks made her laugh as she looked into your eyes defiantly, "why not? I couldn't pass up the chance to fuck you in a room with a view of the Eiffel Tower, it would be a waste of money."

Her answer made you snort playfully as she tightened the toy around her hips more, "come on, roll over for me, baby," Jimin instructed softly, her hands caressing your hips, "a little fun won't hurt, you know."

As you rolled over obediently, she helped arrange the pillows beneath your hips, lifting them to present yourself to her. She ran her hands over the globes of your ass, squeezing and kneading the firm flesh appreciatively.

She pressed the silicone tip against your entrance, rubbing it teasingly between your folds, wetting herself with your lubricant, hoping that this would allow her to slide into you more easily without causing you pain.

"Push back against me, angle your hips to take me deeper, it would be less painful for you, sweetheart," one hand slid around your hip to your front, finding your clit, rubbing slow, firm circles over the sensitive nub. The other hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as she started to thrust, building a steady rhythm.

She pulled out until just the tip remained before slamming back in, burying herself to the hilt. Her hips slapped against your cheeks with each powerful thrust, the lewd sound filling the room along with your needy moans.

She gradually picked up the pace as she felt she could move inside more freely, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. She tugged your head back, forcing your spine to arch even more as she pounded into you.

"You're looking so fuckable right now," she pushed her hips harder, with a particularly hard thrust, grinding the strap-on deep inside you as she continued to rub tight circles on your clit. She could feel your walls fluttering around the intrusion, your body instinctively trying to draw her in even deeper.

"You're looking so fuckable right now," she pushed her hips harder, with a particularly hard thrust, grinding the strap-on deep inside you as she continued to rub tight circles on your clit. She could feel your walls fluttering around the intrusion, your body instinctively trying to draw her in even deeper.

"Bet your boyfriend will never be able to do it the way I do it," she punctuated her possessive words with a sharp smack to your ass, watching as the flesh jiggled from the impact. "Fucking never," she rubbed the reddened skin soothingly before gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises, pulling you back to meet her rough thrusts.

Jimin pushed you over, again, your body convulsing beneath hers as your orgasm crashed over you. She worked you through it, fucking you through each aftershock until you collapsed onto the bed, spent and panting.

She followed you down, covering your body with her own, her hips still rocking gently against yours as she caught her breath. She gazed at you adoringly, brushing your sweat-soaked hair back from your face, her fingers tracing the curves of your cheeks.

Jimin began to move once, rolling her hips in a slow rhythm, the strap-on sliding in and out of you with a lewd squelch. Her face mere inches from yours, allowing you to see every flicker of emotion and lust in her eyes.

"That's it, baby. Wrap those legs around my waist," she encouraged, her voice a low, seductive murmur. "Pull me in deeper, angel. I want to be as close to you, pretty girl."

As you obeyed, locking your ankles around her back, she leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss, tongue delving into your mouth to intertwine with yours. She swallowed your moans and whimpers.

"That's my good girl," She praised breathlessly, breaking the kiss to gaze at you with hooded eyes dark with desire.

Your hands push her, forcing you to change positions, obviously, she did not offer any resistance to this, on the contrary, she encouraged it

"Sweetheart, you're so fucking eager for me, aren't you?" She purred, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "I love this side of you."

Her hands immediately went to your waist, gripping your hips possessively as she gazed up at you with a look of pure lust, hands up your sides, cupping your breasts, kneading the soft flesh as she admired your confidence. Her thumbs circled your nipples, teasing the sensitive buds till they pebbled under her touch.

"Ride me, baby," she encouraged, her voice low and thick with arousal. "I know you want to take all you need from me, do it, right now."

Jimin guided your hips with her hands, helping you set rhythm that was comfortable for you as you rose and fell on the strap-on. Her eyes were glued to where you both were joined, watching your cunt swallow her up again and again, your arousal coating the silicone.

"That's my good girl, bouncing on me so eagerly," she groaned, her head falling back against the pillow, "you're riding my cock like it was made for your pussy."

You felt your breathing quicken, how it became harder for you to breathe with every movement, because of how hard your body was shaking, she saw this and she continued to push herself, holding you by the hips.

With every push you were closer and closer to falling into the abyss, and the last push sent you straight there, with a loud groan, causing you to fall right onto her.

She wrapped her arms around you, holding you close as she rolled her hips, grinding against yours to prolong your climax. She gazed at you adoringly, brushing your sweat-soaked hair back from your face, her fingers tracing the curves of your cheeks.

Lips kissed your temple soothingly while the silicone toy was still inside you, clearly not planning on coming out yet. The way you breathed heavily into her neck made her chuckle, pulling you even closer.

"Sleep now, baby, you need to get some rest, I don't want my secretary to come to the meeting with shaking legs tomorrow.