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sanakiras · 2 months

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LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

❝ AND THE DANCE FLOOR IS FILLING UP WITH BLOOD, BUT OH LORD, YOU’VE NEVER BEEN SO IN LOVE! ❞

WORD COUNT — 17k

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, unrealistic circumstances, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst, medium long hair!gyu bc self-indulgence, tsundere-ish reader again guys sorry i love her so bad, mentions of parental neglect, this ended up so long help

♪ verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex,, florence + the machine - mermaids,, zayn - bordersz,, mikky ekko - who are you, really?,, q - alone,, danna paola - tenemos que hablar,, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, summer camp - i want you

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. the music recs above are also really nice to get into the vibe! enjoyyyy :D

[ ONE ] ✧˚ · .⋆ ★ [ JUMP TO PART TWO ]

i. ASK ME THE TRUTH AND I’LL TELL YOU A LIE

the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.

“on september 2nd, around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police receives a call from you, saying your father hung himself.”

you stare at the the inspector — whose name you did not bother remembering — before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”

with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”

“no, i don’t.”

“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what exactly happened, since there were no witnesses.”

“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”

he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that were the case?”

“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”

“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.

all you can do is sigh. “i was his daughter in blood and name only. nothing more.”

with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”

that sparks your interest. “who?”

the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.

“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.

“what can you tell me about him?”

leaning back in your chair, you list a few things. “he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”

“anything else?”

keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”

“any particular reason why?”

“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”

the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”

“such as?”

his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”

your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”

“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”

“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”

“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”

scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.

this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.

you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.

which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.

your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.

and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.

as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.

his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”

“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”

your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”

“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”

he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”

it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.

“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”

he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”

“neither am i.” you state. like always, there’s a tangible coldness to your voice, which he finds soothing, for whatever reason.

it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.

a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair.

you proceeded to laugh in his face.

mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.

“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”

instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”

you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”

a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”

only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.

so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.

mingyu only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.

ii. THE HATRED WE BEAR

you find yourself staring at your father’s tombstone with a numb face and the wind breezing through your hair. your makeup is slightly smudged under your eyes from the tears you shed just an hour before, while you were giving the public a final speech regarding his passing.

the funeral was long — too long.

at a certain point, once the whole thing was done and everyone left, you decided to take a quiet moment for yourself in the graveyard to let everything sink in.

you made the mistake of thinking you’d left alone.

a voice you’re too familiar with speaks up behind you. “i’m sorry for your loss.”

of course it’s kim mingyu out of all people who’s still here, sneaking up on you.

you don’t have the energy to make a snarky comment this time. “i’d ask why you’re still here, but it’s a question i already know the answer to.”

he still offers you his answer. “i’m here to check up on you.”

well, that takes you by surprise. “why?”

“you lost the one parent you had left. i don’t want you to be alone.”

something about that sentence fuels a sudden anger in you. he’s got some fucking nerve, saying that to you. “maybe you should’ve considered that a couple years ago. you know, before you decided to become my dad’s little protege.”

even as a little girl, your bond with your father was a shitty one. your mother passed when you were young, so you barely have any memories left of her.

in an attempt to win his love and affection, you always did everything your father asked of you, yet your efforts were hardly acknowledged. you found him to be a harsh and cruel man, but surely with you being his daughter, his only child, he must’ve cared for you. or so you always told yourself.

something about your yearning for his approval and support changed for the worse when mingyu’s mother became a prominent business partner to your father, about nine years ago. it made him spend more time with the kim family, and you have no idea how or why it happened, but mingyu became like a son for him.

you saw how well your dad treated him, and you cried for a long, long time as you compared it to his neglect towards you. for every pat on mingyu’s back, you got scolded for not being good enough. whenever he got praised, you got discarded. it’s no miracle that you came to be the way that you are. detached, perceptive, appearing to be just as unfeeling as the man who raised you.

you hated your father. with all your heart.

but you grew to hate kim mingyu more.

so to hear him say that he doesn’t want you to be alone — that takes the goddamn cake.

he lowers his head at your words. “it wasn’t like that.”

“right. of course it wasn’t.” your voice is painfully spiteful.

“i wouldn’t have done it if i knew it was at your expense. i’m sorry.”

he’s trying to be nice to you, not understanding yet that it’s actually doing more damage, making you angrier. “the last thing i want is your fucking pity.”

“then what do you want?”

“nothing you can give me.” it’s a subtle final warning coming from you, because you’re actually about to explode at him. “just leave me be.”

“please, just... i wanna help you.”

like a ticking time bomb, you suddenly hit your limit. finally, you turn around, facing him, and it’s only then that he truly sees how upset you are, like a storm suddenly changing its direction, and he’s in the way.

“help me? you’d help me by getting the fuck out of my face. you wanna know what i want, mingyu? i want to know what in god’s name everyone loves so much about you, what it is that made my father shut me out completely and replace me with you. he gave you more love than he ever gave me. just looking at you makes me sick. what the fuck did he see in you that he didn’t see in me?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from pouring your emotions out to the guy in front of you. “why did he hate me so much? even in death, he favors you over me. he left you... everything. a final ‘fuck you’ to his own child. and for what? for you?”

the fact that you got word from your father’s lawyer that your father chose to leave everything he had to mingyu instead of you was like the straw that broke the camel’s back.

throughout your life, you always did what was expected of you. you were the perfect daughter.

and for what?

the fact that your father grew to hate you and love this asshole so much that he left you not a single penny to your name — that is your tipping point.

and mingyu just wordlessly allows you to continue ranting, almost as if he deserves it.

“what the fuck is so special about you, huh? because i don’t get it. sure, you’ve got a nice face and you’re a smart guy, but i don’t believe you actually give a shit about others. i bet you came here today to rub my dad’s inheritance in my face — you fucking pretentious douchebag.”

“i’m sorry. i never meant—” he stumbles, nearly falling over as he backs away while you keep stepping forward, feeling surprisingly small in front of you, in spite of his tall frame.

“i don’t give a shit if this is what you intended to happen or not! i’m all alone.” you show your sadness right between the anger and hostility, vulnerable in front of him. “no family like everyone else, no money, no house, nothing. abandoned by the one person i had left.”

he looks at you as if you’ve just slapped him across the face. he’s never even shown you a hint of vulnerability — nor have you for that matter — so why is he showing it now?

you’re too deep into your breakdown to think rationally about it. “you took literally everything that i had. and i’ll never forgive you for that.”

“please, let me—let me fix it.” he chokes out, as overwhelmed by your strong emotions as you are yourself.

the harshness of your words makes him feel like he’s crumbling in your presence. “talk to me like you care about me one more goddamn time, and i’ll make you regret ever meeting me in the first place.”

in all the years that you’ve known him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him flinch — you doubt any of your words have ever hurt him.

until this moment, it seems. but why is he even hurt? you don’t care about him and he doesn’t care about you. it’s always been that way, and you have a hard time believing it’ll ever change.

the moment you walk away from him with a sharp pain in your chest, pushing him to the side by his shoulder, he’s left behind in a shocked and bewildered state, neither of you aware that a pair of curious eyes witnessed the whole exchange.

iii. ULTERIOR MOTIVES

“the full inheritance of your father has been transferred over to you.”

the cup of tea you were raising stills with your hand. your eyes narrow at your lawyer as you’re seated in the garden of your father’s estate. “what—how? why? it wasn’t passed down to me.”

“no, but the person it was passed down to can always make the decision to pass it on. and he did — surprisingly with no strings attached,” he tells you, putting the document from the notary in front of you, “i had it all double-checked. everything’s there, the documents signed by kim mingyu himself.”

just hearing the name makes you grimace, putting you off your tea. “and there’s absolutely nothing he wants from me?”

“nothing was mentioned, no. he did, however, leave you a note.”

“what does it say?”

your lawyer raises his brow as he reads it, handing it to you instead of reading it out loud, which makes you give him a puzzled look before casting your eyes downwards to the piece of paper.

tomorrow, 4:30, my apartment. all you have to do is sign the papers. i look forward to the day you’ll make me regret meeting you.

“that asshole.” you mutter to yourself, not loud enough for your lawyer to hear it, but he’s certainly got an idea of how you feel about the whole situation.

“you do, of course, always have the option to reject the inheritance, but i would highly recommend not to. frankly, in all of my years of experience in this field, i’ve never felt a bigger need to encourage a client to take a deal.”

once you’ve picked up the documents and skimmed over the words, you look back at him. “and if i did accept it, it wouldn’t contain any possible implications for me in the long term?”

“none. it is... fairly remarkable he’s willing to give you the full inheritance for nothing in return, even if he and his family are known for their wealth. but it wouldn’t be a significant loss for him, considering the capital he already has to his name.” the man explains, not needing to spell it out for you.

you put down your cup. “knowing him, i’m not so sure he doesn’t want anything. i suppose i’ll have to talk to him about it myself, tomorrow.”

your lawyer highly encourages you to do so, leaving you to spend the rest of the day wondering what he could possibly want from you.

and so the following day, at 4:30 sharp, you step into his apartment — penthouse is the more fitting term. you’ll admit, though, that he’s got style.

it’s dead silent in his place, save for the metronome in the background and the slow brew of his coffee machine. he’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with black trousers as he approaches you. “glad you could make it. coffee?”

“why are you willing to give me the inheritance?” you ask directly, not feeling up for the unnecessary chitchat. you’ve always hated small talk. “if it was just a set-up, i’m leaving.”

he doesn’t seem to be even the slightest bit surprised by your forwardness. “i’m willing to give it to you because a) i don’t need it, and b) i don’t want it. i think it’s ridiculous your dad set up his will like this.”

“well, that makes two of us.” you fake a polite smile, clearly very sarcastically, putting your hand on your hip. “you asked me to come sign the papers, but i have yet to see them.”

mingyu smiles a little at you. of course you’d skip straight to business — you never were a girl of many words. he walks over to a cupboard and takes a sealed folder with the documents out of a drawer, handing it to you.

when you attempt to take the folder from him, he swiftly retracts his hand like the asshole he is. “it’s not completely free, though.”

you pinch the bridge of your nose. “of course. i should’ve known better than to believe you were willing to do something out of the kindness of your own heart.”

he just keeps going as if he didn’t hear you, very much used to the little quips you throw at him by now. “don’t worry, i think you can manage this very small task for me.”

“just tell me what you want already—”

“my family’s hosting a gala next week, on friday. i’d like you to be my date.”

you’re baffled. this is what he wants in return for the inheritance worth millions of dollars? to have you on his arm for a single night?

oh, hell no. you’re not falling for it.

“why? you wanna publicly humiliate me or something?” you question, a deep frown settled in your forehead.

he huffs, annoyed that you’d think that low of him. “i know we’ve always hated eachother, but, maybe, during a hard time… it would be nice to have one relaxed night. and yeah, i wouldn’t mind doing that with a pretty girl to keep me company. what do you say? deal?”

not once in all the years you’ve known him has he ever called you pretty.

“fine. but don’t think about pulling any stunts.”

“wouldn’t dare.” his smile sits somewhere beween teasing and serious when he finally hands you the papers.

you sit down and briefly scan the documents, not signing them right away to have them checked by your lawyer first. “if everything in this is according to the plan, you’ll have them signed by tomorrow morning.”

“okay. see you friday.” he winks at you, escorting you to his front door, a subtle grin on his face that gives off the impression he’s planning something, and you can only imagine what it might be.

there is one good thing about having to spend time in his family home, though — and that’s to search his rooms to find anything that might implicate him having something to do with your father’s murder.

since there’s still a culprit to be named.

with your own agenda in mind, you walk out of his apartment, searching for the name of your stylist in your contacts.

you’re going to need a dress, after all.

iv. A PROPOSAL

with a stern look on your face, you look at the entrance of the gala from the tinted window of your car. it’s all bright lights and colorful decorations, candles, flowers — the kim family is well known for their luxurious and memorable parties. you’ve attended plenty of them. while you and mingyu may not get along, his sister and mother are genuine sweethearts, some of the kindest and most welcoming people you know.

if only you could say the same for the asshole you’re about to spend the evening with.

after checking your makeup in the pocket-sized mirror for a final time, your driver opens your door so you can step out of the car, which leaves you on your own in front of the stairs.

mingyu originally mentioned he wanted to pick you up at your home like the gentleman he very much claims to be, but you very quickly shut the idea down and told him you’d just meet him at his family’s mansion.

so here you are.

attending a gala only a month after your father’s funeral must seem like an… interesting choice, to say the least. the people you come across express their condolences and ask if you’re doing well — you wonder if the sentiment is real or not — and you tell them you’re here because it serves well as a distraction.

you’ve become an excellent liar over the years.

as you’re standing at the top of the stairs, leaning on the railing, you observe the people on the dance floor below. those who aren’t dancing are chattering, the noises of clinking glasses and laughter filling your ears.

most of the time, you’re able to somewhat enjoy this life. but the truth is that it can be as exhausting as it is glamorous.

but with your last living parent gone, you do feel a sense of freedom, even if it is lonely at times.

not like you didn’t feel lonely when he was still alive.

you didn’t love him or care for your father. you cared for the hope that someday he would change. that he would show you he did care for you, even a little bit.

but that day never came.

he was primarily an investor, so at least you haven’t been burdened with having to take over a business or anything like it. having no siblings either, you feel like you should take this opportunity to start fresh; focus on building your own career and use your father’s money for things he’d never approve of.

suddenly, you spot your date in the midst of the crowd, breaking you out of your train of thoughts. his half-long hair looks pretty on him, you have to admit, the few strands in front of his face paired with the tailored, navy suit giving him the appearance of a model.

he’s currently talking to an older woman who clearly seems to adore him, the smile he puts up making her give him a gentle, loving squeeze on his upper arms. like always, no one is able to read the bitterness you feel as your face remains neutral.

growing up in your restricted social circle of the country’s wealthiest families, your group of peers wasn’t extremely big. you all went to the same primary school, same private high school. mingyu was always one of if not the most popular kid at school. an effortless ace at every fucking thing. everyone loved him, be it your peers or their parents.

you wouldn’t say you weren’t popular. quite the opposite, actually. your best friend was the queen bee of the school, as she was always striving to be the best in everything. top of the class, highest achievements, a true perfectionist at heart. bold, definitely a bit judgemental and classist too, but once she’s your friend, she’s the sweetest girl in the world. she did like to dabble in some drama with others if it came onto her path.

and you were the opposite. you preferred to steer clear of any drama, much preferring to watch it unfold from the sidelines — as you usually just didn’t care enough to interfere with it — and you were never quite as talkative as your best friend.

the sentences leaving your mouth are always quick, direct, sharp and without stutter. you’re masterful at small talk, even though you hate it. you know how to play people like a fiddle. your father made you use your manipulation skills to good use rather frequently.

many consider you cold and calculated.

which is true, of course. but you still have a heart, even if it barely beats.

the outburst you gave mingyu after your father’s funeral must’ve come as a shock to him. no one has ever seen you in such a vulnerable and weak state, and out of all the people who could’ve seen it, it naturally had to be him — and that makes you uncomfortable.

once he’s finished his conversation, he looks in front of him, then up at the balcony — and he locks eyes with you.

you give him a look of acknowledgment, but that’s it. he doesn’t seem to mind, though, still shining as brightly as ever, making his way up the stairs as fast as he can. “i’m sorry i wasn’t at the entrance to greet you, i didn’t think you’d be here so soon.”

“it’s fine.”

he glances up and down, admiring the dress you chose. “you look gorgeous.”

the deeply dark green dress with its boat neckline, long and fitted sleeves and intricate gold embroidery makes you look elegant. with the dress itself already being quite the statement piece, you chose to pair it with dainty earrings, your hair half-up and curled.

“thank you.” you don’t bother saying anything about his appearance. he must be used to it at this point.

“can i get you something to drink?”

you test the waters by throwing in a joke. “what, planning on poisoning me?”

his eyes flicker for a moment, stricken by something you can’t quite place, which makes you blink at him. his flirtatious and charming self returns within a mere second, and he proceeds to snicker at your joke. “i could, but where’d be the fun in that?”

rolling your eyes at him, you take his arm once he’s offered it, keeping in mind you’re doing this for the inheritance.

the time goes by quicker than expected. he introduces you to some of the people he’s close with, tells you stories you’ve never heard before, even asks you about yours.

a few of his friends come by as well, surprised to see you by mingyu’s side. most people your age here know that you and him have never quite gotten along, to put it lightly.

when they subtly ask about it, mingyu tells them he insisted you came to distract yourself from the death of your father, and that you could probably use a party.

it raises more question marks as to what his motive is for asking you to be here tonight. what is he gaining from this? he hasn’t humiliated you yet. if anything, he’s only spoken of you highly, save for the little snark he keeps between the two of you.

it’s strange. really strange.

after a while, once all the guests have been drinking a bit, you decide to set your own plan in motion. this might be your only chance to snoop around here, as you doubt you’ll find yourself in here again anytime soon.

you’re literally invited in his home — you’d be a fool not to check his room.

unfortunately, just as you try to disappear from the crowd, mingyu extends his hand to you. “dance with me?”

just as you’re about to refuse him, you remember that this is the one night you have to be nice to him, all so he can give you the inheritance that was meant to be yours in the first place.

with a small sigh, you slide your hand in his, at which he grins triumphantly.

before you know it, you’re in the middle of the room together, and he has his one hand on your lower back, the other hand intertwined with yours. he’s smooth with his moves, you have to admit.

the question has already left your mouth when you process it. “why am i here? i’m sure there’s a reason i needed to be your date tonight.”

mingyu cocks his head at you. “i think you’ve had to endure a lot the past couple weeks. the incident, the interrogations, the press, the shit with the inheritance — i’m impressed you haven’t lost your mind yet.”

“how do you know i haven’t?” you ask, and he twirls you around, his hands feeling like they’re burning on your skin. “wasn’t my breakdown after the funeral enough to prove you otherwise?”

“well, looking back, i should’ve probably left you alone in that moment. but i did think about what you said, and you can correct me if i’m wrong, but i feel like your father and our ties to him were what made us hate eachother so much. now that he’s gone, maybe we can… i don’t know. tolerate one another.”

you make sure to hide your confusion from him. does he really not see it? sure, the main reason you’ve always despised mingyu was because of his relationship with your father, but you weren’t exactly best friends before that either.

even putting it like that would still make it the understatement of the year.

if he actually pictures the two of you becoming friends, though, he’s lost it.

unsure of what to tell him, you give him a shitty excuse to escape the conversation. “i’m just gonna use the ladies’ room, if you don’t mind.” you let mingyu know, and he nods at you in acknowledgement, caught off guard by you leaving so suddenly.

so you walk off, the voices of the people and the music in the hall fading into the background as you trail off.

now that you’re alone, you can finally go check his room.

it’s harder to navigate the mansion than you thought. hallways that all look similar, god knows how many rooms — you hope you won’t get lost here.

one of your best friends is good friends with mingyu’s sister, and so she knows the place like the back of her hand. when you asked her for the layout of the place, she did think it strange, but you told her she had nothing to worry about.

mingyu’s bedroom and study are supposedly on the third floor of the east wing, and the party takes place in the west wing.

so that’s just fucking great.

your best friend did warn you that he most often keeps his doors locked whenever visitors are present, so to ensure you could get in, you snatched the key from his pocket when he was dancing with you earlier.

it almost makes you chuckle when you think about how easy it was.

when you’ve finally arrived at what seems to be the door to mingyu’s room, you double-check the environment around you to see whether anyone’s following you, and when it appears to be safe, you shove the key into the lock, twisting it.

you exhale when realizing it’s the right key.

entering the room, you quickly shut it behind you, taking in the sight.

it’s raining outside, which you take notice of through the large windows. several paintings adorn the walls — you didn’t know he was a lover of art — as well as some photos of him with his family.

the room is surprisingly tidy, his clothes all neatly folded on the wooden planks in his closet and the drawers underneath. the few books he has sitting on top of the cupboard are gathering dust — you suppose he doesn’t like to read all that much.

of course he doesn’t.

his king-sized bed seems soft and comfortable, and the room smells of the cologne and perfume he always wears.

you blink a few times, realizing you’re dwelling too much on details that are not a priority right now.

which is enough to snap you awake, a rush of adrenaline moving through your veins as you look for anything interesting. files, documents, notebooks — anything.

you find his agenda in a drawer of his desk. with slightly trembling fingers, you move the pages back to the date of your father’s death, as well as the days before that.

as you’re caught up with doing so, you momentarily forget the first rule of breaking into a forbidden space: never turn your back to a door when you should be watching it.

“you know, i’m starting to think you agreeing to be my date came with ulterior motives on your side.” you suddenly hear mingyu’s voice behind you, at which you turn around, looking a bit too guilty for comfort.

your voice almost gets caught up in your throat, but you keep your composure. “if it makes you feel any better, i didn’t plan this.”

“it’s alright.” he responds, closing the door behind him smoothly, as if he doesn’t want you to see it. “you still think i had something to do with your father’s death, don’t you?”

“i’m not sure. i don’t see why you would, now that you’ve given me the inheritance. what other motive could you have?”

all mingyu does is clench his jaw at the rhetorical question. then he snaps out of it, his eyes trailing to the desk you’re currently leaning on. he takes a few steps closer to you, and you raise a brow, waiting in anticipation what he’ll do.

his face is suddenly very close to yours, and you’re almost convinced he’s leaning in to touch you when he reaches for the drawer behind you instead. “well, as a matter of fact, i did have something to show you.”

that surprises you.

“your father always carried a little red notebook with him. it’s the only part of the inheritance i didn’t give you, solely because i wanted to show you myself. there’s a few strange scribblings in it, with locations and numbers, and look at this—” he opens it up in front of you, pointing at the paper with his index finger, “apparently he felt like he was being followed just days before he died. maybe the police is right and he did get murdered.”

“yeah, i already figured he probably pissed off the wrong guy.” when he looks at you hopefully, you shrug. “what?”

“we should check it out, right? find out who killed him.”

you immediately shake your head at his suggestion. “no.”

mingyu’s whole body language changes, genuine confusion overtaking his features. “what do you mean, no?”

“he was caught up in all kinds of shit, things i never wanted to be a part of. that’s no different now that he’s six feet under.”

“are you not the slightest bit curious who killed him?”

“frankly, no, i’m not. i’d say whoever is guilty did me a favor.”

despite your valid point, he persists. “okay, then how about this — what if this person would come after you for whatever reason? don’t you want to know who you’re dealing with?”

you narrow your eyes at him. “why do you care so much, mingyu? i’m sure this is something you could manage on your own.”

the sudden question surprises him, so he shrugs. “maybe i’m not sure why. but i do. and you know i did care for him.”

“why don’t you just let the police handle it?”

“because they don’t know this world — and we have access to places, people they wouldn’t even know where to find or how to deal with. have you talked to the detectives? they’re amateurs.” he answers, pausing before taking a step closer to you. “he’s dead either way, doing a small bit of research might be interesting. who knows what you might find.”

“and you wanna do this with me of all people because...?”

he rolls his eyes at the question. “you were the only other person directly affected by it. c’mon, am i really so bad that you can’t even deal with me for a little while?”

the fact that you just give him a deadpan stare tells him all he needs to know.

it makes you bite your lip. you don’t feel like doing this at all, certainly not with mingyu of all people, but he appears to be ready to do this with or without you.

besides, you do feel up for a little adventure.

“fine, i’ll bite. hypothetically, what if i were interested in finding out who killed him?”

the young man in front of you tilts his head. “then i’d suggest we work together and do some digging.”

pursing your lips, you watch his pleased expression when he notices you’re actually considering it. “why do i feel like i’m gonna regret this?”

“maybe you will. maybe you won’t. we can go right back to hating eachother after this, but for now, we’ll be partners. deal?”

your eyes linger on the hand he’s stretched out to you, and even as you’re hesitant to take it, he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

with a sigh, you shake his hand. “okay. deal.”

v. PARTNERS IN CRIME

“for someone so organized, he sure as hell has a lot of unnecessary shit lying around here.” mingyu mutters, searching through the drawers of the cupboard.

you scoff in agreement. “tell me about it.”

the two of you are rummaging through your father’s study in your home in an attempt to find anything interesting as to what he might’ve been up to the past few years.

so far, you’ve had zero luck with it.

you already figured there’d probably be nothing of interest here, but mingyu insisted, said it would be stupid not to. so here you are.

“you know, i’m pretty sure my dad wouldn’t be as stupid as to just leave traces of his criminal affiliations lying around in his study.”

mingyu shrugs while simultaneously looking into a drawer. “you never know.”

“he was an asshole, but he was a smart one.” you mumble to yourself as you go through the little notebook mingyu just handed you a few minutes ago.

he watches you with curiosity. “can i ask you something?”

without looking up at him, you give him a rather direct response. “i’m sure you’ll ask me regardless of my answer to that question.”

ever so indifferent, he thinks. if anything, one thing about you he is actually fond of is your unfiltered attitude. more people should be like that. “you said you’d never forgive me for what i did to you."

hearing those words makes you look up at him. you’re surprised he’s taking an approach this straightforward with you. “i know what i said.”

“is there nothing i can do to at least make things more civil between us?”

god, you’re sick of him already.

instead of outright telling him you hate him more than anyone else you know, you cross your arms over your chest and fire a question right back at him. “why do you want things to be different between us? don’t tell me you’re losing sleep over it, now.”

mingyu pauses a moment before he answers you. “i thought about the things you said, when you were upset with me, and i realized i’ve made your life harder without having intended to do so. and yeah, i am losing sleep over it.”

while he does appear earnest, you don’t exactly trust him, so all you do is shrug your shoulders.

he wants to say something right when his phone rings. once he picks up, you figure it must be something business-related, judging by the tone of his voice and formal language.

an apology directed at you leaves his mouth as soon as he’s hit the red button on his screen. “i’m sorry. an important business meeting was moved and i promised my mom i’d be there.”

you’ve met mingyu’s mother a few times, at events. she’s the ceo of a very prominent hotel business. many of the highest ranked hotels around the world are under her care, and she clearly knows what she’s doing, since her business has been thriving for many years at this point. you remember it was her who took over as ceo after mingyu’s father passed in a car accident when he was younger.

“then you better get going.” you tell him, your face not pulling a single muscle. you hope he didn’t think you were going to ask him to stay.

he nods at your words, taking the jacket with his initials embroidered in the tag and slinging it over his arm. “yeah. i’ll call you.” he says, going out the doorway, yet your voice makes him halt in his tracks.

“mingyu.” you say his name to him, an unfamiliar feeling on your tongue, and he turns to look back at you.

he awaits your words, catching the subtle warning in your eyes as you refer back to the question of his you had yet to answer.

“we may be working together now — call us associates, or even partners in crime — but once this is over, we’ll go right back to strangers. let’s just keep this… somewhat professional.”

you find he can be surprisingly hard to read from time to time, for a guy who wears his heart on his sleeve. after blankly staring at you for a few seconds, processing the words, he just offers you a little smile and a gentle response. “okay.”

and he walks off, only leaving you more intrigued than before.

for two days, it’s complete radio silence from mingyu. all he asked you over text was if you’d been able to find anything in the study, to which you replied with a simple no. he didn’t say anything else.

you sincerely thought this whole investigation of yours wasn’t actually gonna lead to anything, that it was useless — until now.

it’s eleven o’clock, dark outside, the metronome ticking in the background of your living room as your eyes are glued to the screen of your laptop.

you just got a notification from the bank that someone made a significant withdrawal from one of your father’s bank accounts, one that still needs to be signed over to your name.

question is, who the fuck has access to your father’s bank account besides you?

no one. supposedly.

staring at mingyu’s contact in your phone, you twist your lips, unsure of whether to call him about this or not.

going against your gut, you press on his phone number and wait for him to answer the call.

nothing.

for good measure, you call him a second time. same result.

then it hits you. you spoke to wonwoo last night — he mentioned something about him and mingyu going out together this evening.

wonwoo, thankfully, does pick up his phone. “hey. what’s up?”

“hey. are you with mingyu right now?”

“yeah, why?”

“where are you?”

“uh—” he stutters out an address in the middle of the city, clearly confused by the urgency in your voice. “what’s going on? what do you need mingyu for?”

“well, it’s hard to explain. anyway, i’m coming over.”

“he’s kind of—”

you quickly interrupt him by hanging up. taking your wallet and car keys, you head out. the address wonwoo’s given you is located in the club scene downtown, and you make it there in no-time with the navigation on your phone.

parking your car across the block, you get out and check your phone, heading to wherever wonwoo and mingyu currently are. you usually tend to go for the clubs at the other side of the city, as the vibe feels a little different here, but you’ve been around the neighborhood a couple times, so it’s not entirely unfamiliar to you.

when you arrive at the club, you catch the sight of your friend leaning against the stone wall outside.

jeon wonwoo, all handsome in his expensive jacket and sleek shoes, looks surprised when he notices you of all people coming up to him, even though you told him you were coming. his voice is soft when he greets you. “hey. you gonna tell me what exactly you’re doing here?”

shrugging your shoulders, you put your hands in the pockets of your black coat. “you said you were here with mingyu. i gotta talk to him.”

“right now?”

taking note of his baffled reaction, you tilt your head to the side. “yes, right now. i don’t care if he’s occupied.”

wonwoo brings a cigarette to his lips, pushing the pair of dark-rimmed glasses higher up his nose. “what’s going on with you and him, anyway? i thought you hated each other.”

“we still do.”

“well, something’s changed.”

“believe me, wonwoo, i don’t like him any more than he likes me.”

all he does is narrow his dark eyes at you.

just when you want to open the backdoor to the club, wonwoo stops you. “you do know what kind of establishment this place is, right?”

frowning at him, you open the door just the slightest bit to check whatever he’s getting at, and once you catch sight of the pink and red lights, sensual music and metal poles attached to the ceiling, you momentarily close the door again.

right. this must be one of those clubs that are hidden from the prying eyes of non-customers, to give the illusion there’s nothing going on behind these walls, giving the rich clients some privacy in their activities.

you roll your eyes. “when you said you were going to the club, i didn’t think you meant a strip club.”

“i was about to tell you when you hung up on me.”

“so why are you out here and not in there with him?”

“because i wanted to smoke and he felt like heading into a more secluded space. with company, no doubt.”

oh, this is gonna be fun. since kim mingyu pretty much ruined your life, the very least you can do in return is ruin his night. you briefly chuckle to yourself. “alright. well, have fun smoking.”

“you’re still going in?” he calls after you, and all you can do is scoff.

“you think i care whether kim mingyu’s gonna have a good time or not?”

“forget i asked.” he responds, the hint of a smile tugging at his facial features. “i’ll wait here ‘til you get back.”

you shoot him a knowing smirk before stepping into the club. remaining in the background, you scan the area to see if there’s a glimpse of him somewhere.

at the other side of the bar, a man seems to be on watch in front of a separate hallway, so you figure that’s where the jackpot is.

not bothering to look back at the bartender, whose gaze trails after you, you head over to where you need to be, which is where you’re stopped in your path, as expected.

“these are occupied private rooms, ma’am.” a bouncer tells you.

“look, sir, i…” you begin, coming up with some bullshit excuse to get past him, “i’m pretty sure i saw my boyfriend just go in here with a dancer. all i want is a confirmation, i’m not looking to start drama.”

before the man can respond, you wordlessly hold up a small stack of hundred dollar bills between your index and middle finger, waiting for him to take the bribe.

works like a charm wherever you go.

his demeanor changes once he sees the money. “what’s he look like?”

“tall, dark medium-long hair, brown eyes, pretty handsome — though that’s probably subjective.” you shrug, adding a little fake smile to it. you can get far in life with a little charm and money.

the few generic features seem to be enough for the bouncer to know who you’re talking about. he takes the money from your hand, pointing his finger at one of the more secluded rooms in the back.

“go for room number six.” he says, stepping to the side so you can pass him.

thanking him, you head into the back, the heels of your ankle boots clicking against the floor.

the rooms have their matching numbers on neon signs above them. your eyes curiously take in everything they see, but all rooms grant the people in them privacy with the use of frosted glass.

once you’ve made it to the room with the number six on the sign, you take a breath while your hand rests on the handle.

you enter the room soundlessly. the broad space is dimly lit with its soft lights, a mixture of yellow, pink and red almost convincing you that this place is a mere fever dream.

mingyu is seated on the velvet red couch, his legs spread with a girl in skimpy lingerie dancing between them.

yet his eyes are on you.

with his head tilted down, he looks up at you from beneath his lowered brows, peering right past the bare hips of the girl as if she’s not dancing in front of him at all.

you catch a hint of intrigue in his features. he reaches inside his pocket to hand a small stack of money to the dancer in the exact same way you did with the bouncer only a minute before, and the girl leaves you to your privacy.

“hello to you, too.” he says, not bothering to move a single muscle as he remains on the soft couch.

“next time, answer your damn phone.” you scold him, staring him down with the coldest glare you can muster, and mingyu’s not sure why, but he relishes in it. it doesn’t happen often that someone treats him like this.

“i was occupied.” he casually answers, his hand running through his dark locks.

“well, not anymore.” you grin, handing him your phone to show the photo of the bank transcripts. “apparently, my dead father just took fifty grand out of his account.”

mingyu furrows his brows at the screen. “where?”

“all the way at the other side of the city. question is, who else has access to his account, aside from me?”

“we should go and check the footage.” he says, shrugging his shoulders, and he finally gets up, towering over you again. “i know someone who’s with the municipal authorities, i’ll make the call.”

“right now?” you ask, referring to how deep into the night it is, at which he raises his brow.

“yes, right now. this is the best clue we’ve come across so far. don’t you agree?”

“i do. i just thought you cared more about, y’know, being occupied.” you emphasise the last words with a waving hand, gesturing to the girl that was previously dancing on him, and his flirtatious nature comes right back to him as if it never left.

“why? wanna give me a show before we leave?” he smirks, getting closer, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you, to see what’s lurking underneath your closed-off persona.

fine. both of you can play this game, you think to yourself. “what, are the girls here not enough to get you off?”

“is that a yes?”

“why would you want a lap dance from a girl you can’t stand? i may not like you, mingyu, but i didn’t think you’d stoop so low to go after any woman with a pulse.”

“i feel flattered,” he smiles, eyes trailing down to your exposed collarbones, finding it ridiculously hot in here, “and i don’t particularly like you, either, but we both know you’re gorgeous. besides, i’ve seen you dance at chan’s club. you looked good.”

his honesty almost stuns you in your place. you didn’t think he held that kind of physical attraction towards you, yet it makes you feel good — because you think he’s fucking hot, too.

such a shame that he’s an asshole.

but still, there’s no time to dwell on his words. you have a reputation to uphold and a murder to solve, after all.

so you lean in, whispering your decision. “in your dreams.”

jesus, mingyu thinks, do you even remotely know how much sex appeal you have? it makes him beyond impulsive. “did you know studies have shown that sleeping with someone you can’t stand is arguably the best thing ever?”

you sarcastically reply to him with the exact same tone. “did you know you’d be so much more bearable if you just kept your mouth shut?”

“what? it’s part of my charm.” is all he says in return, snickering a little over your response, and you merely roll your eyes.

“we’ve got a different idea of charm, then.”

“okay, fair enough.” he shrugs, still maintaining the minimal distance between your bodies. “so what do you find charming? i’m dying to know, really.”

“i like men who don’t feel the need to pay for a woman’s touch.” the reply comes fast and sharp as a blade. “i hope you pay them generously, since they have to put up with you out of all people.”

“she didn’t touch me, though. it’s a strip club, not a brothel.”

“how noble of you.” you humorlessly chuckle at him, attitude turning more playful.

“mhm.” mingyu nods his head, the rest of his words sounding lower and suave. “tell me more. c’mon, i’m curious. i gotta know my partner’s preferences, right?”

the look you give your current partner is something. you decide to indulge him this once, face inching closer to his, just to keep things interesting. “i want someone who won’t hold me back. someone who will accept me for who i am — uninhibited.”

there’s something you can’t quite place flashing behind his eyes. it’s close to intrigue, but more intense, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen it in anyone else’s eyes before.

“good to know.” he breathes out, as if your words stole his breath, and you come to the realization that maybe, there’s more to kim mingyu than you thought.

now that he seems to be pretty much speechless, you raise your shoulders. “so, are we heading out or should i tell the dancer to come back in?”

he stutters out a reply, and you find it funny how his attitude is constantly going back and forth between a flustered mess and the most confident guy in the room.

once you’ve returned to the backdoor where you got in, you see wonwoo is still outside, his cigarette put out on the ashtray beside him.

“you leaving?” wonwoo asks, waiting for either of you to answer.

“yeah. duty calls.” mingyu replies while putting his jacket on.

for what it’s worth, wonwoo is actually a dear friend of yours, and one of the few people you show physical affection to, so you give him a kiss on the cheek before walking off. “catch you later, okay?”

he nods, catching mingyu curiously watching the exchange, and when you walk off with him, wonwoo notices him put his hand on your lower back, which you proceed to swat away.

a mere twenty minutes later, you and mingyu are seated in your car in an empty parking lot, looking at a screen displaying street security footage of the bank where the withdrawal was made earlier tonight.

mingyu’s friend seungkwan, who works for the authorities, sent you the footage, and as you’re looking it over, he’s on the phone explaining his observations. “he was wearing a mask and a cap, so we couldn’t recognize him. the car he drove has a license plate that doesn’t match, so likely stolen. he drove from a nearby parking garage to the bank, withdrew the cash, got back in the car and then parked it right here, about six blocks further, in the business district.”

the building the car is parked across is one you’d recognize any time of day. it’s where your father’s main office is — or was — one of the places he never allowed you to get into, or anyone for that matter. it was the only place where he got the peace and quiet he wanted.

you turn your head to glance at mingyu, giving him a knowing look. “that’s where my father’s main office is.”

“you think the guy’s gonna try to break in?”

“if he got his hands on the passcodes and proceeds to wait before the building he always worked in, then yeah, i do.”

you nod in agreement, because he makes a fair point. mingyu looks at the worried expression on your face and decides you’ve gathered enough information now.

he thanks seungkwan and tells him bye before hanging up, then turning his focus to you. “whoever that guy is, if he’s planning on breaking in, we gotta beat him to it.”

“you wanna break into an office on the seventh floor located in a building that neither of us are allowed into? they won’t even let us pass the front desk. i know because i’ve tried.”

he shakes his head. “trust me — we’ll find a way in. i’ve got an idea, but it’s not gonna be easy.”

vi. WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I

the following days are spent analyzing and memorizing blueprints, tracking the people entering and exiting the building and checking security in the hope of finding some kind of loophole in the system.

trying to get in through the front door is too risky, so you’ve opted for the roof instead, because there’s several buildings so closeby that you can get into either of the buildings next to it and reach it from there. you’ll get in with a classic heist movie tactic you pray works in real life as well.

ventilation shafts.

so now, you’re both in dark and practical clothing to attempt breaking in. because your plan is mediocre at best.

as you watch from the rooftop of a currently unoccupied office building nearby with a binocular, you face-palm yourself the moment you notice the security set-up is different than anticipated with the blueprints, meaning the ventilation shafts are most likely not accessible. “well, fuck.”

“what’s wrong?”

you hand the binocular to mingyu, and he mimics your previous actions, huffing in annoyance when he sees it too. “shit. what do we do now?”

“nothing.”

“what?”

“our plan was already risky enough, but now that we pretty much don’t even have a way in, we’d be stupid to try. we only have a fifteen-minute window before a security guard comes up the roof again.”

“that’s plenty.”

“it would be, for like — a swat team. we’re amateurs. at this, anyway.”

“speak for yourself.”

“oh, i’m sorry, have you done anything remotely on this scale before?”

“well… no.”

pinching the bridge of your nose, you roll your eyes to yourself. “we should’ve brought wonwoo.”

mingyu is quick to respond with a sarcastic comment. “and tell him what, exactly? ‘hey, we need your help breaking into one of the best-guarded buildings in the city so we can snoop around and try to find a clue leading to a killer’?”

“well, i don’t know if you’ve noticed, gyu, but we quite literally have no other options.”

“we could always try the front door. you’re still his daughter, they might let you in.”

“i really hope that wasn’t an actual suggestion, because if it was, it would highly diminish the idea i have of your intelligence.”

“is this your way of telling me you think i’m smart?”

“well, currently, i think you’re being an idiot, so no.” you retort, stealing the binocular out of his hand again. “god, i’m starting to respect criminals. this shit is difficult to navigate around.”

mingyu chuckles as he adjusts the black baseball cap on his head. “there has to be another way. maybe we could—”

“—get in through an open window.” you interrupt, handing the device over to him. “you see the glass window in the roof of his office? it looks like it’s ajar.”

once he sees it too, he tilts his head. “it’s almost too easy. it’d have to open manually, otherwise we’re screwed.”

you can only shrug. “it’s only a modern interior on the inside, the building itself is older, so the odds might be on our side. besides, it’s worth a shot, right?”

“can’t argue with that.” he agrees, checking the other buildings around to figure out the best approach.

you watch him as he’s distracted. he’s fully going for the whole partners-in-crime thing you’ve got going on with him, yet a part of you is still unsure what his motives might be.

but for now, you’ll just focus on the task at hand.

every fifteen minutes, a security guard comes up to the roof, checks everything, stays for a minute or two and leaves again. you’ve been keeping track of it. as soon as the one currently on duty closes the door to the staircase behind him, heading back down, you both start a silent timer on your watches, getting to work.

one thing you discover doing said task is that jumping from roof to roof is really not as easy as they make it seem in the movies. if anything, it’s pretty scary, even if they are relatively close to eachother.

the jump from the last building to the one you need to be on top of has the biggest gap, and mingyu takes a solid leap, landing ever so gracefully.

you shuffle your feet for a moment, making the mistake of looking down. mingyu notices your hesitation and tries to encourage you the best he can. “it looks scary, but it’s a relatively easy jump. i swear. that’s gotta mean something coming from a person with a fear of heights.”

clenching your fists, you try to steady your breathing. “don’t you lie to me, kim.”

there’s something strangely charming about you using his last name whenever you’re scolding him. “c’mon. i’ve always thought you were fearless. you’re not gonna diminish the idea i have of you, right?”

curse him for using your words against you like that.

clenching your fists, you bite your lip, the worst case scenario going through your head over and over.

“just go back a couple steps. steady your breathing, and then you run. okay?”

you don’t respond to his words but do as he says anyways. the jump isn’t even that far, you’re just afraid of tripping.

but you won’t go out embarrassing yourself in front of kim mingyu. your pride is too strong for that.

so you take a deep breath and make a run for it, jumping over the gap and landing on top of the other roof, far away from the edge. mingyu laughs triumphantly. “good job.”

“thanks.” you smile as he helps you up to your feet, and you dust off your jacket, proud of yourself for going through with it.

the two of you walk over to the glass window, and you kneel down, inspecting the lock. thank fuck — it’s so simple that all you have to do is click it open. you’re guessing they probably thought the security walking around was enough.

with your hands covered in gloves, you wiggle them through the gap and crack it open, after which mingyu takes the lead. he lets himself drop into the office silently, looking up at you as a gesture for you to follow him.

you attempt to do the same as him, but you figure he must have strong arm muscles, because you’re barely able to hold yourself up the way he can. he notices your struggle and moves to stand underneath you.

“just let go. i’ll catch you.”

“are you sure?”

he nods, his arms up as if he’s waiting for you to jump right into them. “yeah, yeah. i got you.”

not entirely convinced, you try to drop onto the floor in a way you can still hold yourself up, but mingyu proves himself true to his word when he catches you as easily as drawing his next breath. he looks you in the eye while he has you in his arms, his senses feeling heightened as your clothed skin touches with his.

then you tap on his shoulder, and he lets go of you.

the office is bigger than anticipated. the moonlight from outside is bright enough for you to not need a flashlight, so that’s beneficial.

mingyu is awfully quick on his feet for someone as tall and bulky as him. he’s quiet in every step he takes, which is useful in a situation like this.

while he begins to look through a bunch of drawers, you open cabinet after cabinet, going through some documents that don’t really contain anything interesting.

you turn to look at the desk and the painting on the wall behind it. it’s nothing spectacular — your father never had much of an appreciation for art, so you find it strange he’d even have it up here.

out of sheer curiosity, you try to check if there’s a secret stash behind the painting like in those crime movies.

you have to refrain from laughing when your eyes fall onto the safe in the wall. “hey. gyu.”

he turns around, his entire demeanor changing when he sees what you’ve found. “you’re kidding.”

the safe has a surprisingly easy system. it has four dials, so you need a code with four numbers to get access to whatever’s inside. you change the dials to your birth year for fun, but naturally, it doesn’t work. hell, mingyu’s birth year might have a better shot.

while you try out every combination you can think of, mingyu gets the little notebook out of his pocket — the one that was part of your father’s inheritance. he flips to one of the last pages. “try 9-3-6-8.”

going with his suggestion, you rotate the dials until they have the right numbers, and you hear a click. blinking a few times, you turn the small crank wheel beside the dials and open the safe.

there’s not much inside in terms of quantity, but the things that are in there are no joke.

two gold ingots, a stack of files and a loaded handgun with a silencer attached to it.

“what the fuck was he up to?” mingyu asks rhetorically, inspecting the pistol with care, and you shrug, grabbing the files to put them into the bag you took with you.

“i don’t know, but we should hurry up. we can look at whatever all this is later. clock’s ticking.”

he figures you make a good point, so you hold out your bag, and he puts all of the safe’s contents into it.

you’re both scared to death when you suddenly hear voices coming from the other side of the door. you immediately zip up your bag and close the safe back up, putting the painting right back in front of it.

footsteps come approaching your direction, and you realize you don’t have enough time to get back out of the office without being caught red-handed, so you’ll have to find a place to hide.

just as you’re about to go sit underneath the desk, mingyu doesn’t hesitate to grab you by your hand and pull you against his body, both of you hiding in the small gap between the bookcase and the wall, which is right next to the door.

you almost jump in your place when the door is opened by a security guard, and mingyu puts his hand over your mouth to make sure the guard doesn’t hear you.

thankfully, you’re hidden right behind the door now that it’s opened, but your heart is fucking pounding as your chest is pressed against mingyu’s, and all you can focus on is him.

he’s suffocatingly close to you.

the situation forces you to look at him so closely — like never before. your attention trails down from his dark eyes to the litte mole on the bottom of his nose, the shape of his lips, and the glimpse you catch of the silver chain adorning his collarbones.

it’s the first time you see how big of a man he is. he’s been working out a lot in the past few years, with considerable results — standing this close to him highlights the contrast between his frame and yours.

the footsteps leave the office not long after, and the door closes. you’re finally able to breathe properly when he releases his palm from your mouth, and you inhale and exhale deeply.

“you alright?”

“yeah. that was just — scary.” you respond, cracking a little smile.

he nods, neither of you really moving in your places yet. “you can let go of me, y’know.” mingyu whispers, sounding entirely unconvincing, and you frown before looking to your hand that’s apparently been clutching his jacket this whole time.

“oh, yeah. sorry.”

“it’s okay.” he assures you, pointing to the ceiling. “we should probably head back.”

you agree and sling the bag over your shoulders, on your back. he gets onto the desk first so he can climb out the same window you used to get in, and once he’s gotten up the roof again, he extends his hand to you so he can pull you up.

it doesn’t go smoothly. he’s a little clumsy, but he manages, so you take a breather once you’ve made it out of the office with him. you close the window in the exact position it was before you opened it, and you make it to the safety of the rooftop where you started just twenty minutes ago.

as you quickly go down the stairs of the abandoned building to reach the ground floor, he laughs triumphantly. “holy fucking shit. i can’t believe we actually pulled that off.”

you smile at him with adrenaline still rushing through you, heart still pounding in your chest when you realize what you just did.

and honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever felt that… alive.

a mere fifteen minutes later, you’re seated in a half-empty diner with him. he’s across from you in the booth, elbows on the table as he fiddles with his fingers.

while he looks around the place, you take the files you found in the safe out of your bag so you can look them over.

as your eyes fall onto the first page, you frown.

mingyu notices your gaze. “what’s wrong?”

you switch to the other file folders before scoffing to yourself, realization hitting you. “you gotta be fucking kidding me. they’re tabs he kept on the people around him. the staff at home, his driver... even me. and you. well, looks like he didn’t trust you completely.”

before he can even reply to the subtle dig, you slide the folder with his name on it across the table, and he opens it up, noticing a huge chunk of information on him neatly stashed away in separate documents. there’s even candids there that must’ve been made by a private investigator.

“i knew he was paranoid, but this takes the cake.” you mutter, and you throw the folders back into your bag, and mingyu hands you his so you can take it as well.

“well, this sucks.” he sighs. “those files aren’t of much use, so now we’re back to square one.”

you tilt your head. “that’s not entirely true. we might be able to check where the gun came from, or whose name it’s registered under.”

mingyu hums, lifting the cup to his mouth, whispering a compliment, not really expecting for you to hear it. “smart girl.”

with your bag zipped up and everything off the table again, it’s quiet between you and mingyu for a moment.

“god, i’m starving.” he says as you wait for your food to arrive, and where he’s slightly fidgeting in his place, you sit completely still, looking at him with a frown. once he catches your gaze, he raises a brow at you. “what?”

“do you do this often?”

“eating in a cheap diner?”

“trespassing. breaking in. illegal activities. whatever you wanna call it.”

he shrugs. “occasionally. keeps life interesting, y’know?”

the casualness in his attitude makes you scoff. “sure.”

“you don’t agree?”

“i didn’t say that.”

“no, but then again, you don’t really say much at all.” he says bluntly. he doesn’t mean it as an offensive statement in the slightest, but it would’ve probably sounded better if worded differently.

for a moment, he thinks his impulsivity must’ve upset you, seeing as you remain silent for a moment.

then you laugh at him. the sound is completely new to him, yet strangely soothing to his ears.

“you’re bold, i’ll give you that.” you snicker before taking a sip of your coke. “but i assume you don’t have an issue with people who are on the quieter side, since you’re besties with wonwoo and all.”

mingyu mimics your facial expressions. “yeah, i prefer being around quieter people more. but i didn’t—it came out wrong. i meant, you don’t really, like... show who you are. if that makes sense. even back when we were in high school, you were like a mystery. you still are, to me.”

“is this what this whole partnering-up thing is about? you wanting to unravel the mystery about me? because if it is, i’ll give you credit for the creativity.”

mingyu tilts his head. “well, it’s a little more nuanced than that.”

“if you wanted to get to know me, why didn’t you try years ago?”

“have you met you?”

you roll your eyes. he smirks at you, enjoying your company quite a lot, anticipating whatever it is you’ll say in response.

“you wanna know something, mingyu?”

“yeah.”

“you’re telling me i’m the mysterious one, but i’d say that’s you.”

his playfulness falters a bit, and he shows his confusion instead. “me?”

“mhm. you’re popular, good-looking, charming, all of that — and i think you’ve got layers to yourself that no one even knows about. characteristics no one would ever dare imagine when they think of you.”

his breath hitches in his throat. “why do you think that?”

twisting your lips into a pout, you put your drink back down on the table. “wouldn’t be any fun if i outright told you, would it?”

mingyu narrows his eyes at you. you just shrug, as if to tell him he’ll figure it out, if he’s smart enough.

and he welcomes the challenge.

“okay.” he smiles, biting his lip when he leans back in his seat. “but, hypothetically — what if you’re wrong about me? what if i don’t have those layers you’re talking about?”

you eye him up and down, remaining quiet with your arms crossed over your chest. you’ve always had that attitude. like you know more than everyone else, as if you’re the smartest person in the room. usually, you are. and yet you’re never smug about it, unless someone challenges you to be — you’re always calm, cool, collected. stoic. the fact that wonwoo of all people called you an ice princess years ago says enough.

“i’d be sorely disappointed.”

“so you have high expectations of me?”

“in a way, perhaps. though you’ll have to work a little harder to impress me.”

“tonight wasn’t enough?”

“it was a start. we still loathe eachother, remember?”

“right. i’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

sure, you and kim mingyu hate one another, but he still makes you smile the most anyone has in ages, and you make him feel more alive than anyone else has.

vii. FRIENDS CLOSE, ENEMIES CLOSER

“i’ve got bad news.” you say, tapping your nails on the coffee table in your living room as you have mingyu on speaker.

“okay. do tell.”

“the gun isn’t registered, so we pretty much only have the files as evidence.”

“yeah. i doubt your father put those files together himself, since they seem like the work of a professional. we might be smart to seek out the private investigator who gave him the intel.”

you know he hears you sigh at the other end of the line, and your response hardly sound convincing. “yeah, i guess.”

“what’s wrong?”

it’s quiet for a moment. you speak up with a tension rumbling in your chest. “maybe we should just quit, gyu. i don’t feel like what we’re doing is actually going anywhere. we still don’t have a proper lead.”

then it’s his turn to remain silent, and you swear you can hear his breath shudder. “we’ll get there. it just... takes some time.”

“you sound a little too sure of that.”

“i just think it’d be a waste to not continue after the stunt we pulled last week.”

“what’re we gonna be doing next? breaking into the national bank?”

“something tells me you’d find that exciting.”

well, shit. have you become so transparent that kim mingyu of all people can tell the truth about you?

“maybe i would.” you grumble like a child admitting defeat.

the sound of his laughter echoes through the phone. it subconsciously brings a small smile to your face.

“look, i have a meeting ‘til five. i can come by after to brainstorm about things, pick up some food on the way. are you free tonight?”

“yeah. text me when you’re on the way here.”

“yes, ma’am.” he jests, saying he’s got to go before hanging up. it leaves you to stare at your phone for a minute. a past version of yourself would never believe it if you said mingyu would ever get close to you in the way he has over the past two months. it’s been a strange time. it’s come to the point you’re pretty sure you don’t even hate him as much as you used to.

maybe you don’t even hate him at all anymore. maybe.

but something about admitting that to yourself feels scary, so you put your thoughts elsewhere while secretly looking forward to having him come over again.

it’s a quarter past five when he sends you a message, letting you know he’s picked up the food and on the way to your house, and a mere twenty minutes later, you and him are seated in the lounge on the first floor as he tells you about his day – all while shoving a dumpling into his mouth.

what interrupts you, however, is the noise of your doorbell. mingyu frowns instantly, and you mimic his expression, because you weren’t expecting any more company. “who’s that?”

“no idea.” you shrug, so you get up from your seat, jogging down the stairs with mingyu following you, simultaneously chewing the food in his mouth.

checking the screen beside the door that’s connected to the doorbell, you notice a familiar face standing outside.

“isn’t he the main detective on the investigation?” mingyu asks rhetorically, his body language changing to something more stiff. “what is he doing here?”

“good question. i certainly didn’t invite him, but the guy at the front gate probably told him i was home. fuck — you have to hide.”

“hide? why?”

because the detective thinks you still hate mingyu, so seeing him here would make your story hardly plausible. “because he can’t see you, obviously. get upstairs and stay there. i’ll distract him.”

“are you sure?”

“yeah, so go!” you push him back with your hands on his chest, and he seems hesitant to leave you by yourself, but he eventually jogs up the stairs again to get out of sight.

the inspector smiles only as a formality. you do the same. you haven’t spoken to him since you indirectly accused him of being an asshole, a while before your father’s funeral.

“good evening. i hope i haven’t come at a bad time. may i come in?”

“i have to take a business call soon, actually, so another time would be—”

“i won’t be long. i assume you’d like to have an update on the investigation?”

well, fuck. he’s got you there, so you’re forced to let him in, but you don’t let him wonder and gesture for him to sit down in the living room, on the couch. you move to take the seat directly across from him to ensure his focus is on you, instead of on the huge staircase behind him.

“am i still at the top of your list?” you ask. when the man tries to find the right words to respond, you scoff, filling in the blanks. of course you still are. “but you have no evidence.”

“it’s not about evidence — moreso the lack thereof. i’m stuck with two people who each have a solid motive, an alibi that’s far from foolproof, and an important tie to the victim. you cannot deny that.”

“is this another interrogation? because this is all off-record.”

“not an interrogation. i was just wondering something – back when i spoke to you last, before your father’s funeral, i asked what you could tell me about kim mingyu, your father’s former associate.” hearing him say his name makes you anxious, yet you pull every possible muscle to hide it. “you spoke of him as if he were the devil himself. you clearly hated him, perhaps more than you hated your father.”

“and?”

he pulls something from the inside of his jacket, and you discover they’re a few candids, photos taken of you with mingyu while out in the city. well, that’s just fucking great. you’re gonna have to make use of your top-notch acting skills here.

“i’m sure you wouldn’t mind me asking why you’re suddenly seeing someone you claim to hate as much as you do.”

the blankness of your face dissolves as you adapt a more playful and sassy persona. “you came all the way to my home for this? a few photos?”

“a few photos of my two main suspects together for a reason i cannot think of, yes.”

“you can’t think of a single thing? really? no offense, but i was under the impression you were at least a little clever.”

the man stares at you as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle. that can only mean one thing – he’s falling for your act.

what an idiot.

you lean forward in your place, the dry smile remaining on your face. “i fucked him. several times, actually.”

he narrows his eyes at your statement. “i thought you told me you hated him.”

“oh, i do. but a good hate-fuck is the best way to release some frustration. you should try it sometime.” the sound of your voice is monotonous as you utter the words in one go.

“i’ll keep it in mind.” he sarcastically responds with a fake smile, and you copy his body language, pleased to see you’ve made him somewhat uncomfortable.

he clearly wants to change the subject, but you don’t feel like continuing this conversation any longer. “if you’ll excuse me, i really have more pressing matters, so i trust you can see yourself out.”

the inspector huffs a bit, but he knows better than to overstay his welcome. he wordlessly allows you to let you walk him to the door before turning around. “i hope you know who you’re dealing with. not everyone is who they say they are.”

leaving you confused, he looks at you a moment, proceeding to walk out your front door, after which you close it. did he know more than he was willing to let on? what a strange visit.

when you finally decide to turn around, you see mingyu standing in the middle of the stairs, looking a little baffled, at which you roll your eyes.

“why would you tell him that?”

“would you have preferred it if i told him the truth?”

“would that be so bad?”

you scoff, passing him on the staircase. “see, this is what i mean when i say you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

mingyu follows you back up to the lounge. “i’m just saying — maybe it’d make us look less suspicious.”

“it’d do the opposite, gyu. trust me.”

“okay. fine. but out of all the things you could’ve said, why that?”

“well, it made him uncomfortable, making it easier to get him to leave early. and, well… you know what you look like.”

the last sentence really grabs his attention.

“what i look like?” he repeats, knowing damn well what you’re getting at, but he’s eager to hear you spell it out for him.

“well, you’re somewhat good-looking. it’s one of your few strong points, actually.”

“so you think i’m hot?”

“didn’t quite say that.”

“no, but you implied it.”

“not really. you may be conventionally handsome, gyu, but attraction is a whole different thing.”

“oh, c’mon. admit it. i’m willing to, so…”

“do i need to remind you i said we’d keep things professional? which you agreed to.”

“god, you’re so tough.”

“part of my charm. maybe that’s why you like me so much.”

“i never said i liked you.”

“no, you didn’t have to.” you scoff, laughing at him, and mingyu feels the corners of his lips curling up — because you’re right.

then, as you plop down on the seats in the lounge again, you sigh as you look at the papers scattered across the table.

“you know, it’s been weeks, and we still haven’t got the slightest clue who’s the killer,” you frown, fingers resting on your collarbone, “and if i’m being honest, i doubt we ever will.”

mingyu briefly narrows his eyes at you, proceeding to take his laptop out of his bag. you watch curiously when he silently types away at his keyboard, then turning the device around and clicking on the play button.

suddenly you hear your own voice, and the words — you said those during the interrogations. how the hell did he get his hands on those recordings?

he seems to be able to read your mind. “i’ve got a contact in the force. he sent me the sorted files of everyone who was interrogated. we should probably listen to them, right? after all, we know more about the situation than the detectives.”

blinking a few times, you shrug and nod in agreement, so he increases the volume and presses the button again.

the following two and a half hours are spent listening to the recordings and taking notes of important things. you’re only halfway through them, but doing this the whole time really sucks you dry of energy.

at a certain point, you press the pause button and get up from your seat, moving to the liquor cabinet a few meters away. “you like a good whiskey, right?”

“yeah. how’d you know?”

“i observe and listen. that, and i heard you say it to wonwoo one time.”

he chuckles at your words, watching you take the bottle with two glasses and set it down on the table.

once you’ve poured the liquid into the glass, he takes what you offer him and down it in one go, after which you give him a judgemental stare. “seriously?”

“sorry. had a rough day.”

your gaze softens, and you pour him a second glass as he holds it out. “why?”

“i just… haven’t been feeling great lately. not really sure why.”

well, that’s interesting. “your conscience eating away at you?”

his eyes widen an uncharacteristical amount, and your face is blank for a few moments until you crack a smile. he laughs it off, squeezing his hands together, which you take notice of.

“guess you could say that. no, i don’t know. my sister’s been stressed and she won’t tell me why, which is odd ‘cause she always comes to me — and my mother’s been overworking herself, and i’m worried for her.”

pursing your lips together, you cast your eyes down for a moment.

for some reason, you feel a sense of repulsiveness whenever mingyu speaks of his family like that. as if it’s a reminder of what you didn’t have.

but you don’t show it.

“sounds tough.” you reply, not intending to sound distant — you just find it difficult to know what to say.

what you fail to recognize is that mingyu sees it. he sees your struggle and the emotions you think are so deeply hidden underneath the surface. they actually are, to be honest, but he’s come to know you and with that the way you hold yourself. and he’s suddenly able to read you better.

you’re made of sharp edges only — broken glass on all sides.

he takes another sip of his drink. you down yours in one go.

“can i ask you something?”

“sure.”

mingyu’s eyes curiously follow your every move, the alcohol in his system making him bolder. “how are you holding up?”

“me? ‘m fine. why do you ask?”

“i think mostly ‘cause i’ve asked you a lot of questions, but not that one.”

the words make you silent for a moment, and you let out a knowing sigh when you realize what he’s getting at. “i told you i was glad he died, gyu.”

“i know. but even if you are, you can still find it difficult to deal with.”

you inhale and exhale slowly, leaning back against the wall for a moment, staring into nothing. “i’m not sad that he’s gone. i never will be. but there’s things i wanted to ask him.”

when you don’t continue, he asks you to. “what things?”

“things about my youth, my mother… hell, maybe even about you.” you shrug, chuckling for a brief moment, but the sound is gone as soon as it came. “but i think, mostly, i’d ask if he saw himself in me.”

mingyu is intrigued by your answer. “why would you wanna know that?”

you shrug, your tiredness contributing to you opening up. “because maybe i’d hear the answer i want to hear, and not the one i currently have. my worst nightmare has always been to turn into him.”

“you won’t be like him.” he tries to tell you, but you shake your head.

“i already am. i hated him to the bone, and yet i act like him, sound like him, handle things like him — because he taught me everything i know. at the end of the day, i am my father’s daughter. there’s no changing that.”

“you’re not a bad person. he was.”

“how would you know? he was nice to you. stand-offish, probably, but nice.”

“you don’t think i had an idea of what kind of person he was? i cared for him, but i knew he could be harsh. i caught some bits and pieces when he… yelled at you after our high school graduation.”

you have an almost visceral reaction as he mentions the incident. your father had yelled at you after the graduation, because the best student of your class got a prize on the big podium, and it wasn’t you. and that as a result made your father angry, because being in the top five wasn’t enough — because it should’ve been you.

it was always supposed to be you.

“why did you even want to be around him at all? if you knew how much of an asshole he was all this time.”

mingyu stares at the wall for a few seconds when he thinks about it. “he came into my life when i needed it the most. but looking back, i feel guilty. i shouldn’t have cared for someone like that.”

“like what?”

“someone that cruel. he didn’t deserve to be loved or cared for, not in any way.”

“can only good people be loved?” you ask in return, and he seems positively surprised at your question.

“you’d find love for a bad person?”

“mingyu.” you say his name in a brief chuckle, and it steals his breath away. “do you think you have that much of a choice over who we love? we don’t. that’s what makes it so complicated.”

he seems to grow increasingly stressed with each thing you say, much to your surprise. “but would you want to love someone like that?”

looking away from him for a moment, you think his words over. “if that person was good to me, and had the same values… yeah, i would. trust me, the few people i care about are no saints, and yet i’d go to hell and back for them.”

“am i on that list too?”

you meet his eyes, and his expression is so beautifully genuine, full of raw emotion you’ve never seen him show before. it’s then that it finally hits you — kim mingyu actually cares about you.

the worst thing is that you just might care about him, too.

so you gently smile at him with a light shrug of your shoulders. “maybe.”

he reciprocates it, his brown eyes blown wide as he gazes at you. “i’m glad. you’re on my list too, y’know.”

“am i?” you tease, and he nods cheerfully, happy to have verbalized his appreciation for you. “well, i didn’t really see it coming, that’s for sure.”

your words bring mingyu’s thoughts back to the death of your father, the rift you accused him of causing between the two of you. a wave of guilt comes flooding in once more.

“look, i… i know you may not believe me, but i genuinely feel sorry for what happened. for taking something from you. despite the things i saw and heard, i really was too stupid to see that your dad treated you as badly as he did.”

staring him right in the eye, you don’t fail to catch the earnestness in them. “it’s alright. you’re not half as much to blame as i’ve tried to make myself believe you were.”

the words intrigue him. “how come?”

swallowing the lump in your throat, you press your lips together. “because he didn’t care about me. he never did. maybe he was different before my mother died, maybe he wasn’t. i wouldn’t know.”

mingyu tries to hold his ground as he watches you get emotional. he remains quiet in his spot next to you.

“can i tell you something?” your voice is hesitant and almost inaudible, like a child who’s trying to tell their parent they did something wrong.

when he silently nods, you continue.

“you wanted to know why i hated you, right? well, i...” you pause in an attempt to find the right words, “i felt invisible to my father. like i didn’t matter — i was treated like nothing more than a tool to improve his businesses. but you... he treated you like a son. like a person. and i spent years trying to figure out what i did wrong and you did right, and i just... i didn’t get it. i still don’t. but whatever it was, i was jealous that you had it and i didn’t. and everyone loved you and praised you, be it our friends or their parents. everyone in our social circle. from my point of view, no one had ever uttered a single bad word about you, and then when my father began to take a liking towards you as well... i just hated you. you were my perfect scapegoat.”

the guilt on his face is clear as day. when he parts his lips, you already know he wants to apologize again, but you shake your head, speaking up first.

because you don’t hate him anymore.

“mingyu, there was nothing for you to take away from me to begin with. long before you were even present in his life, he didn’t care for me either.” with the corners of your lips turned down, you continue. “i did everything he asked. perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect social life. but he didn’t care. it’s not often i say people have no heart, but he just… he just didn’t have one. for his job, perhaps, for his business partners — but not for anyone outside of his work. i just didn’t think that would go for his own child, too.”

you reach for your forehead, trying to take his attention away from your face, running your hand through your hair while blinking your tears away. why are you telling him all this?

but it just feels so good to finally get it all out.

“you did the best you could.” he tells you, and you nod with watery eyes.

“i did. and somehow, none of it mattered.”

when the first heavy sob leaves you, you try to hold it back, not wanting him to see you break down.

he doesn’t let you. he moves to sit next to you and takes you into his arms, and for the first time in however long, you let yourself break. the tears are your acknowledgement of the pain it has caused you over the years, the damage that will never quite heal and always follow you wherever you go.

you’re not sure why you’re falling apart this easily. you hardly ever cry anymore, perhaps a few times a year, and you usually feel strong enough to hold it all back when you’re in front of others, but this time — this time, you just can’t.

“it’s alright, sweetheart. it’s okay. you’re alright. he’s gone now.” he whispers into your ear as comfort. “but you’re not alone. not anymore.”

his heart shatters when he internally makes the comparison between the loving family he grew up in and the lonely, broken family you could hardly call home.

“why wasn’t i enough? why didn’t he like me?” you mutter to yourself, having lost control as you cry into mingyu’s neck, clinging onto his body as your chest aches.

“because he couldn’t. he didn’t have it in him to care for anyone. that says more about him than it does about you.” he responds, gently stroking your hair, even pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

and for the first time in a long time, you feel… cared for. like you truly matter to someone.

something that feels scary, perhaps even strange, but good.

mingyu’s big arms cage you into his hold, a comforting feeling. to be honest, you wish you could stay with him like this for the whole night. maybe even longer than that.

he rubs your back, feeling the pain in your chest as if it were his own. he’d take all of it if he could. you were damaged in a way that no one deserves, and seeing how much it still affects you and most likely will in the long term, that tears him apart.

the heavy ache in your chest subsides, yet you still cling onto him. you feel the most at ease you’ve ever been with anyone.

“thank you.” you mumble, giving him a tight hug with you wrapping your arms around him ‘till he’s almost suffocating. “i needed that.”

“anytime.”

you eventually finally come down from your breakdown, body slightly twitching as the last tears silently roll down your cheeks.

with your head in his lap, you lay on your side, closing your eyes for a while as the pain in your chest slowly subsides. he’s still rubbing at your clothed skin, and you’re curious if he’s aware it does wonders for calming you down.

“i’m sorry for yelling at you, gyu. after the funeral.” you speak up, voice still raspy. “i was wrong about you.”

mingyu feels his throat tighten up. “it’s okay. i was wrong about you, too. we have more in common than i initially thought we did.”

you wipe your tears away and move to sit upright, finally feeling confident enough to look him in the eye again. “like what?”

both of you are tired. everything that’s happened the past weeks has definitely been causing some sleepless nights for both of you, and with all the alcohol and emotions running high, you’re both feeling a tad drowsy.

he runs a hand through his dark locks. “this part of society — i think it’s exhausting, a lot of the time. full of noise, small talk that’s supposed to hide how cold half these people are, social pressure, all of that. but here, at home, it’s quiet. maybe a little too quiet. the thing is, i have my friends and family that i care about more than anyone else, but i still feel… hollow. like i’m missing something.”

you nod at him. “you can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely.”

“yeah.” he sighs. “do you feel it too?”

“well, i may not have a family, but i have my friends. and they mean so much to me, and i can talk to them if i need to, but… yeah. i feel it too.”

he wonders if you feel the same connection that he’s feeling right now. he’s drawn to you like a damn magnet.

mingyu already knows he’s a goner when he gently puts his hand on your cheek. he feels electrified by your presence, your voice, even the way you look at him.

he needs you.

“maybe we can be lonely together.”

his words are enough for your breath to hitch in your throat. you doubt you’ve ever wanted to have someone as much as you do now.

and so you cross a line you never thought you would and press your lips to his, desperately needing his touch.

the kiss is harsh but slow, as if you’re aching to taste eachother. his hand makes its way to the back of your head, the other on your back to pull you closer to him.

his heart might as well be lurching out of his chest. god, he feels that excitement and nervousness as if he were his teenage self sharing a first kiss with his crush — yet whatever feeling is clouding his mind is something darker and deeper, something that transcends what he can describe with words.

he kisses you like his life depends on it. once you’ve both pulled back to get some air, looking the other straight in the eye, it’s like you’re silently admitting that the relationship you share is more than just being partners.

it’s something that comes alarmingly close to love.

the moment is harshly interrupted when his phone rings. he blinks a few times before rolling his eyes at the timing, as he’s still half on top of you.

you can do nothing but wait underneath him as he takes the call, and when he closes his eyes and releases a sigh, you know it’s not positive.

“alright, thank you.” he says before hanging up, turning his focus to you. “the alarm at my apartment in the city was triggered. i gotta check it out, i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine.” you mutter out, suddenly unsure of how to talk to him now that you’ve crossed the line that you have.

but mingyu is much more straightforward. his gaze is warm and intense as it finds your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to stay here with you. so he shows you that.

just when your lips are about to touch again, he smirks, gently holding your chin. “i’ll be back for this.”

with those words, he catches his breath and gets up from the couch, after which he jogs down the stairs, and half a minute later, you hear the front doors open and close.

the sound allows you to release the breath you’ve been holding.

what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

thank you for reading. let me know if you enjoyed it x

READ PART TWO HERE

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

#kim mingyu x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svthub #mingyu x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #seventeen imagine #svt imagine #kim mingyu ff #kim mingyu angst #svt fic #svt angst #svt fanfic #svt imagines

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flametrashiraarchive · 1 year

Note

Reader teaching Haganezuka how to eat that kittykat and fuck it properly because we all know he's a virgin still uwu

(bonus points for size kink, implied age gap [reader 20s])

(bonus points and cookies for Haganezuka being so focused, listening very intently to the puss eating lesson but gets super into it and tunes out reader as he begins to figure what to do and he can't stop himself from overstimmulating reader, which has reader smacking his head so he finally lets go)

Argh yes okay here we go! I love this beautiful nutjob and I got carried away. (I left the age of the reader ambiguous because personally I am old as shit, but I think I get cookies still for the overstimmulating?)

Also... I really want to write a part 2. I want us to take care of him after the events of season 3 because I just know that once the adrenaline wore off this poor man was hurting so bad.

Anyway, enjoy!

UNBREAKABLE, UNQUENCHABLE.

F!Reader x Hotaru Haganezuka

Content Guidance: cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, overstimulation, not stopping when reader tells him to (reader is still into it though)

Minors DNI.

"I don't make swords for civilians," the swordsmith said, his voice deep and his tone final. He turned away from you, continuing his journey down the mountain path, the soft thud of his footsteps accompanied by the gentle tinkling of the windchimes hanging from his hat.

Your heart sank for a moment before you steeled your resolve and renewed your determination. It was never going to be easy and you'd mentally prepared for rejection. This swordsmith was infamous for his unbending resolve and temper.

Running a step ahead of him, you turned to stare into the wide bug-eyes of his hyottoko mask. "Please, Haganezuka... I need a nichirin blade."

He continued walking as if he expected to simply pass through you. "No."

"But it's the only thing I can use to kill demons."

He paused. "Demon slayers kill demons. Not civilians. No sword for you."

"I am a demon slayer, just not an official one." You brace yourself for a telling off. Usually whenever you admitted to going rogue you were met with lectures about the proper way to do things and told to leave things to the demon slayer corps— but their numbers were dwindling and you'd never quite figured out breathing styles well enough for your sensei to agree to send you to final selection. Still, hacking and slashing got the job done with the right blade. "Please, Haganezuka. I had a sword with your stamp on it before. It was the best blade I've ever had and—"

"Where did you get it?" His voice was strained as if forced between gritted teeth.

"I found it..."

"SOMEONE LOST MY SWORD?"

"Yes... maybe, but I found it. It served me well and I really want another."

He turned his face away from you slightly, making the windchimes ring. "What happened to it? Did you lose the sword too?"

"No, it broke."

You could've sworn he was vibrating. "m-m-m-m-m-m-my SWORD???"

The elongated lips of the mask poked your cheek as he stepped right up against you. His haori concealed the true size and density of his body, but with him standing so close, you could tell he was muscular and incredibly strong. He was also apparently unhinged, but then again, you reasoned, what was life without a little zest?

“YOU BROKE MY SWORD??”

You'd been pre-warned that his swords were the key to winning him over, so you kept your voice level as you emptied your arsenal. "Your sword was the finest sword I have ever seen. It was an honor to wield it, Mr. Haganezuka. Not even the blade of a hashira could compare to the sublime craftsmanship of that sword. I dream about that sword." You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the heat of his body pulse against your palm as you added in a lower, more sultry tone. "And I've dreamed about meeting the artist who forged such a perfect sword for a very long time."

His chest rose sharply as he pushed out the only response he could manage; a strained, breathless grunt.

Taking his broad, calloused hand in yours, you gazed into the eyes of his mask. "Mr. Haganezuka... please make me a sword?"

The trees swayed overhead, the sigh of the leaves the only break in the utter silence between you and the swordsmith.

"Mister Haganezuka?"

The windchimes tinkled. "Tell me your name."

You told him, and he repeated it back, slowly and carefully as if trying it out.

The mask's mouth moved to your nose as he stared you in the eyes. "Mine is Hotaru. Do you need a husband?"

"I... uhh..." you stammered, suddenly feeling very warm as the heat of his burly frame pulsed against you. "Do I need a..."

He carefully removed the hyottoko mask and with it, removed every particle of air from your lungs. Ravenette hair threaded with silver, amber eyes which glowed like the forge, dark, severe eyebrows which slanted downward as he awaited your answer. He was... beautiful, treading the fine line between painfully pretty and achingly rugged.

"Yes." You said firmly. "Yes I do need a husband."

-------------------------------------------------------

Two days later you were married to Hotaru and about to spend your first night at the Swordsmith Village. Ordinarily, outsiders had to undergo a lengthy initiation process to ensure the village remained a secret, but the village chief fast-tracked your application and damn near pulled you through the gates himself.

It seemed he was just as keen as you were to get your marriage to Hotaru underway. In fact, the whole village pitched in to ensure your wedding went ahead quickly and without a snag.

“Thank you for marrying Hotaru,” the village chief whispered while you were in the middle of your vows. “You have no idea the relief you have brought to the village. We were beginning to lose hope. He has never shown any interest in anything besides swords. Once Hotaru finds something to focus his attention on it's nigh impossible to tear him away from it.”

Before you knew it, you were a wife, married to a man so introverted he spent the majority of your wedding day hiding behind a tree, peering out at you as you chatted to the villagers. In fact, he only came out from behind the tree when someone walked over to congratulate him on the marriage, and even then it was only to find a different tree to hide behind.

"Hotaru..." you sighed adoringly as you slipped away from the crowd to stand beside your husband in his hiding spot. "Are you unhappy?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm happy."

"Ah... You just prefer to be alone?"

"Yes. With you. I want to be alone with you."

He was a strange man, but he melted your heart with every other word. And Gods, he was beautiful. You yearned for him like no other. You craved him.

"Husband, for my wedding gift, will you—"

"No sword for you," he said firmly. "No fighting demons. No risking your life. You are my wife now and it's my job to protect you, even if that means protecting you from yourself. So no sword."

You couldn't help but smile. It seemed Hotaru's dedication to being a husband was as intense as his dedication to smithing.

"I promise, no more demon slaying, but I wasn't going to ask about the sword."

"Oh?"

You leaned in and whispered against his ear. "I was going to ask you to take me to bed."

His orange eyes snapped to your lips as though he couldn't quite believe what you had said. He cleared his throat and tried to speak but only managed a choked grunt.

Silence descended between you until he finally found his voice. "I don't know how to do… those things."

"I can teach you."

He didn't speak. He simply took your hand in his and led you away from the wedding party and deep into the woods. After a minute he looked back at you and picked you up, carrying you against his burly chest.

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"A place where we can be alone. They won't find us."

He carried you a little further, to a small, seemingly abandoned work shed. Inside there was a small forge and smithing tools, and a small living area with a bed and basic amenities. The air was thick with the lingering tang of smoke and molten steel.

"Is... this our home?"

Hotaru shook his head. "This is where I come to work in peace when I really need to concentrate.''

He set you down carefully beside the bed and waited. Except, he wasn't simply "waiting." Hotaru's eyes drank you in, gazing at you with soft reverence. He was so big, so intimidating and by all accounts completely lacking any kind of social skills, but you had won his heart entirely. He was softer than molten steel for you, and more than willing for you to hone and hammer him into the shape you desired him to be.

"Teach me," he said. "I'm ready."

You nodded, your heart thrumming with the anticipation of what was to come. "Okay. Would you like to use your fingers? Your tongue? Or your cock?"

"Yes. All. Teach me how to use them."

Marrying this strange man had definitely been one of your better decisions.

Closing the space between you, you wrapped your arms around your husband's neck and gazed into those fiery eyes. "Well, we should start with a kiss. Do you know how to do that?"

His brow knitted. "Yes of course I know how to kiss."

"Good. Then kiss me, Hotaru."

He leaned down and pecked your cheek.

"Was that good?" An expectant look lingered on his face, faltering by the second. "I... that's what you want, isn't it? Do you want more? I can give you more."

Gods, the man was completely uninitiated.

Still, you couldn't help but smile as he eagerly peppered your cheek with little kisses; dozens of them, soft and dry and so sweet. His brow remained furrowed in concentration throughout, and you remained patient as he expressed his devotion. But when they inched closer to the corner of your mouth you turned your face to press your lips to his.

The moment your lips touched, he froze, eyes wide as you gently and slowly pulled him into your kiss.

His lips were still and stiff beneath yours as he adjusted to the new sensation. And then they softened. Gradually, tentatively, he followed your lead. His lips crept across yours, careful and slow like he was learning the steps to a new dance and didn't want to tread on you.

You licked the seam between his lips, easing your tongue through the gap as he inhaled sharply and he brought his hands to your waist.

And then something inside him snapped. A restraint cut loose.

He wound his arms around you, lifting you off the ground. The strength in his arms was breathtaking; forged by decades of tireless labor, and now wholly dedicated to you as he pushed you down onto the bed and slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring this newfound pleasure.

Your kisses awakened a voracious appetite in him and before long he was devouring you with heated passion, barely giving you time to breathe. It was as if he had gone his entire life without intimacy, but once the dam had cracked it was impossible to stop the flood.

His tongue stroked yours again and again as his tough hands skated up the length of your legs. When he reached your knees he granted your tingling lips a reprieve, kissing your throat as he pushed up the skirt of your wedding dress and squeezed the tender flesh of your thighs with a wanton groan.

"My pretty wife," he growled as you shifted beneath him, craving his touch. "Tell me how to make you feel good."

You parted your legs, pulling your skirt up all the way to reveal yourself to him. A sharp intake of breath expanded Hotaru's chest as he looked down at your pussy. A muscle in his cheek danced and his grip on your thighs tightened as his eyes filled with a look of pure hunger.

"Do you want to touch me?" you asked, your breaths coming in shallow bursts as anticipation coiled in your belly.

His answer was barely a whisper. "Very much." He swallowed hard. "May I?"

"Please... please do," you whispered, your need for him drowning out the rest of the world. It was just you and Hotaru, and nothing else mattered.

The sound of his shaking breaths was the only break in the silence. His hand left your thigh and he gently brushed his fingertips along the edge of your folds.

“Soft,” Was the only word which emerged from his lips as he stared and explored the shape of you. His orange eyes were focused, his perpetually furrowed brow somehow even more severe. Hotaru was lost in concentration, entirely focused on mapping the curves and ridges of your cunt.

You lay there on the bed, letting him find his bearings. His gentle exploratory touches sent shivers through your body. Those rough, calloused fingers touched you with such care and attentiveness. His eyes snapped back to yours every time you made a sound or breathed a little harder.

Hotaru was a devoted craftsman– his hands finely tuned tools– and they were dedicated entirely to your pleasure. He found your entrance and pushed a finger into you, watching intently as your pussy clenched around it.

You sighed in pleasure. "Gods, Hotaru, you're making me so wet…"

"Is that good? Am I making you happy?"

"Yes. That's good."

"Hm," he muttered, as if filing the information away. "A wet wife is a happy wife."

A sharp gasp escaped you as he nudged the hood of your clit with his thumb and his lips curved into a smile.

"You like this, don't you?" He hummed pensively and circled your clit, spreading your wetness.

Squirming beneath him, you nodded as the heat on your cheeks blossomed. "Yes, Hotaru. Keep doing that."

Gods, those rough hands. They sent jolts of pleasure surging through your body as he lavished attention on your clit, fascinated by the way it swelled as he worked with dogged determination. He added another thick finger to your cunt, stretching you deliciously.

A quiet groan emerged from him as you began to fuck yourself on his fingers, hard and fast as he rubbed your clit. He watched you intently, his lips parting in sync with your cry as your first orgasm of the night rocked through your body.

"Oh look at you, my pretty wife with your sensitive little bead." He moved down your body, lowered his head and nuzzled your clit with his nose.

"Ho-taru…"

The wet heat of his mouth closed over your tender bud, pulling another cry from your lips.

"Ah! You like that too," he murmured as he knelt between your knees, his long, dark hair spread like strands of seaweed across your thighs.

"Yes. D-do it again… please… use your tongue."

“My tongue?”

You sucked in a breath as he licked your clit with the tip of his tongue, tasting your essence.

He groaned. "Mm~ fuck, this is good."

"More… please…"

In response to your demand, he raised his hand to press his thumb against your lower lip. "Show me how to lick you well."

Gods, this man. You took his thumb into your mouth, showing him exactly what to do, licking the tip of it as if it was your clit. He groaned as you lapped his thumb, his eyes fluttering shut as his jaw clenched.

"That feels… huh…" He bit back a groan before burying his face in your pussy and replicating the motion on your clit.

Thank the Gods he has the foresight to take you away from the village, because the sounds he pulled from you were unholy. He was eager and so receptive to your lessons.

Hotaru put everything he had into eating your pussy; the slick, sucking sound of his mouth and his hot, wet tongue accompanied by your desperate cries. With every passing moment his confidence grew, pumping those thick fingers into you and curling them against your walls, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to give you more pleasure than you ever expected.

As he pleasured you, he ground his hips against the mattress, groaning as he pushed his fingers deeper into your mouth. It was too good, too intense. Your senses were flooded with him; the sight of that beautiful man devouring you, the acrid scent of the forge, the lewd wet sound of his mouth on your cunt. And Gods, nothing had ever felt so good before.

Hotaru was born to forge swords and eat pussy, and he did both with unbreakable focus.

You sucked his fingers and he sucked your clit, groaning as he voraciously lapped the sensitive nub, driving you higher… higher…

An immense wave of pleasure crashed through you as you reached your peak, the force of your orgasm making your legs tremble. His name tore through you like a cry to the heavens, his answer a soft moan which vibrated through your core as he kept on licking. On and on, lapping at your pulsing clit as you gasped and bucked your hips against his insatiable mouth.

"Ho-taru… you did it… you made me–"

Taking his fingers from your mouth, he slung a heavy arm across your belly and continued eating you out, unrelenting, pulling another choked cry from you. Hotaru was drunk on you, on the taste and the knowledge that he was pleasing you; groaning, grinding his hips against the mattress, breathing in the intoxicating scent of you as he fluttered his tongue over your overstimulated clit.

The village chief had told you his focus was unbreakable, and now that attention was dedicated to your pussy. He was lost in you, wholly devoted to pleasuring you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, torn between needing respite and craving more.

He propelled you from your second orgasm right into your third. Intense pleasure drove your head back against the pillow as you screamed in ecstasy and torment, your pussy throbbing beneath his lips as your nectar ran down his chin. And still, he licked you with an unquenchable thirst.

"Hotaru! Ho- oh it's too much.”

He hit a spot inside your cunt which made the world shatter around the pair of you, sending you careening into another climax which turned your blood to liquid steel. “Too much! I can't!" You swatted at his forehead, smacking him with your fingertips as you wriggled out from beneath him.

Your husband stared at you, dazed and breathless, his lips glistening with your slick juices. "Did… did I do it right?"

You gasped for air, trembling down to your bones. “You did it perfectly, Hotaru.”

He pulled you into him and kissed you. You licked the taste of your desire from his lips, swallowing the low groan which rolled from his chest. His lips caressed yours with deep, undying passion, his hand dropping to the bulge tenting his hakama trousers.

“Let me take care of you now,” you whispered into his ear as your hand joined his, cupping his cock and making him moan. “Lie back for me, my love.”

He did as you asked without protest. It was true that you wanted to take care of him and give him as much pleasure as he had given you, but in a more practical sense, being on top of him allowed you to have control. You were already so fucked out, and from the feel of things–from the girth and weight of it through his trousers– control was definitely going to be necessary.

You stood from the bed and undressed as he gazed up at you, languidly palming his cock in his broad hand and drinking in the sight of you.

“Such a lovely wife,” he whispered, his orange eyes heavy with desire.

“And I have such a handsome husband…” you replied as you undressed him, revealing his big, muscular body inch by firmly hewn inch. He was a mountain of a man, and Gods, there wasn’t a thing you would change about him. “A handsome husband who pleases me well…” You kissed him, gently pushing him back and straddling his hips. “And who makes the very best swords in all the world–”

“Ohh…” He groaned, gripping your hips as you brushed the fat tip of his cock against your pussy. “Say that again.”

“Hm? That you’re the best swordsmith in the world?” You eased the top inch of him in, letting your body adjust to the sensation. “That your swords are works of art?”

“Gods, I want you,” he hissed, baring his teeth and gazing up at you from the pillow. A deep, longing groan emerged from him as you inched your way down his length. “You… you are…so warm… so wet… beautiful.”

You skated your hands over the plain of his abdomen, taking him deeper, your back arching as he stretched you even at that slow pace. When you finally reached the bottom of his shaft, you were breathless, tingling at your core. Hotaru was even less composed than you.

The swordsmith growled, bending his knees to slide his legs up and down the mattress, fighting the urge to fuck up into you. His cock twitched inside you as you rocked forward to kiss him, your breasts pressed against his burly chest, his rough hands skating up your back.

“I love you, Hotaru,” you whispered before rocking back to start riding his cock.

“I–ngggh ohh… ohhh!” he groaned, eyes widening, fingers digging into your hips with bruising ferocity as you bounced on top of him. His control slipped almost immediately.

He fell apart, groaning and thrusting up into you with a loud moan. His eyes screwed shut, his face flushed scarlet, and he trembled beneath you as his cum flooded into you, spilling out onto the base of his cock.

Pulling you down into an embrace, Hotaru held you in his arms, his heart thrumming beneath your ear. His big, broad hand stroked your back as he kissed the top of your head and his cock softened inside you.

After his breathing returned to normal, he gathered his senses long enough to ask, “Do you need more, my love?”

“I’m more than satisfied,” you said with a smile.

He was asleep a second later.

You lay there, pinned by his arms, crushed up against this strange, wonderful man you called your husband, and there was nowhere else you would rather be.

#The Collected Works of Flamey 📖#kny haganezuka #hotaru haganezuka #haganezuka x reader #haganezuka smut #demon slayer haganezuka

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6okuto · 2 years

Text

THEIR REACTION TO YOU DRESSING UP

gn!reader | suggestive, mild swearing.

matsukawa, atsumu, hinata, kuroo, suna, osamu, sakusa, iwaizumi, tsukishima

MATSUKAWA’s sprawled on the couch as he waits for you to show him the new outfit you bought. you had excitedly texted him before coming home, hiding the contents of your bag as you ran to change. it’s been a few minutes when he teasingly calls out, “you okay in there, babe? need help?” “no, actually i don’t, issei,” you reply, walking in. issei does a double take, mouth dropping a little. “goddamn.” the speed he gets up is almost comical. you do a slow turn, smoothing out the fabric that seems to hug you in the most perfect way. “i don’t know when i’m gonna wear this, but it’s really nice, right?” “really fuckin' nice,” he agrees, grinning. “respectfully and in love with you, i humbly ask, do you want to kiss and or make out with me right now?”

ATSUMU freezes when you walk into the bedroom. you do a quick spin and smile. “what do you think?” his eyes are wide, gaze fixated on you. “am i dead? are you an angel here to take me away?” he finally asks. you snort and make your way over, reaching to fix the collar of his shirt. “i’m gonna take that as a ‘you look good, babe,’ then.” “just good? baby, i think i’m sweating. maybe cryin’ a little,” he continues, half-joking. “‘tsumu—” atsumu shakes his head. “uh-uh, don’t say my name, i might explode.” you laugh at your boyfriend, face warm from his praise; his own flustered state keeps him from noticing yours. he shakes his head again, as if to get out of a haze. “you know what, let’s go. yeah, let’s go now before i keep you all t’myself. we’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

HINATA spits out his drink and chokes a little. “oh my–oh my, god, sorry, i—” “shoyo?” you speed over, concerned but also trying not to laugh. “are you okay?” “huh? yeah? i’m so fine,” he says unconvincingly. his face is flushed when he looks at you, whether from the choking, embarrassment, or your outfit, you’re not too sure. then, as if he wasn’t choking a few seconds earlier, he starts showering you in compliments. “anyways, you look great, babe. like, like it really screams 'you,' you know? i bet everyone’s gonna be jealous of me.” “oh really? of you?” shoyo tilts his head, as if you asked a silly question. “well, yeah? 'cause you look this good and i get to date you.”

KUROO almost drops his keys walking through the front door. “tetsu, you’re back early.” “god, please don’t tell me i forgot about a super important event tonight.” he sounds both panicked and in awe, mind in shambles at the sight of you. you open your mouth to speak, but tetsuro's faster. “wait, don’t tell me,”—he paces toward you—“before i die, i want you to know you look incredible, and i’ll gladly be your poorly-dressed accessory for the night.” there’s a joking strain to his voice, and he sniffs before pressing his cheek to your head. “tetsu.” you laugh and pat his back. “there’s nothing happening, i just bought a new outfit and wanted to try it on.” he lets out a relieved noise between a sigh and groan then moves to look at you, now able to fully appreciate the sight. “thank god. i’m going to count that as the second win of the night then, 'cause seriously, you look so good right now.”

SUNA snakes his arm around your waist and kisses your temple. “hi, babe.” “rin! when did you get here?” “a couple of minutes ago. beelined for you after ‘tsumu shoved a drink in my hand.” you laugh and he smiles before finally registering what you’re wearing. he takes a sip from his drink at the same time his eyes scan over the new look. “this what you bought on saturday?” “hm? yeah, it’s really nice, right?” rin looks between you and his drink. “if i didn’t have manners, i would’ve thrown this glass and kissed you.” amused, you jokingly hit his stomach. “why can’t you compliment me like a normal person?” rin takes no offense, instead maneuvering so he can hold his drink while wrapping his other arm around you. he squeezes you, grinning when you yelp. “‘one, cause you look hot, and two, where’s the fun in that?”

OSAMU lets out a low whistle as you walk into the living room, eyes scanning you up and down. he gets up from the couch, and places his hands on your hips. “y’sure you have to go out tonight?” “'samu.” he laughs at your pointed look and puts his hands up in surrender. “i’m kidding, hon. you look stunning, though.” rolling your eyes, you thank him. “c’mon, i’m gonna be late if we don’t go now.” you walk to the door, but osamu thinks back to the weather forecast for the evening. “you aren’t bringin’ a jacket?” “hm? nah, we’re gonna be inside.” putting on your shoes, you respond without looking, and are surprised by the weight that suddenly covers your shoulders. you know osamu's favourite jacket from anywhere, and you let him shift it to cover you. he leans over to kiss your temple and mumbles in your ear, “now you’ll be warm and everyone will remember we’re dating.”

SAKUSA’s fingers slip from his cuff button again, earning a huff and frown from him. “‘omi, are you ready?” “yeah, can you just help me w—” he turns to the sound of your voice and pauses. the new outfit you told him about makes his heart skip a beat, and he almost forgets about his own suit predicament. “with what? oh, the button?” you make your way over to help, kiyoomi staring the entire time. “there ya go.” “you look incredible,” is the first thing he says instead of thank you. it catches you off-guard, “huh? oh. i—thank you. you look very handsome.” there’s a beat of silence as kiyomi weighs the pros and cons of going out or staying home. you have to stop yourself from laughing when he asks with a straight face, “completely related, am i allowed to be mean if anyone tries to flirt with you?”

IWAIZUMI looks up when he hears the changing room door open. you’re fixing the waist of your outfit, and don’t notice the way his eyes widen. he whispers under his breath, “holy fuck.” “haji, do you think it’s too much for the dinner? i know it’s ‘just your old teammates’ but, like, i want to look good,” you explain. his gaze softens and he clears his throat before standing. “no, it’s perfect. you look…you look perfect.” you smile at him and it’s all he can do to stop himself from covering his face and groaning. “oikawa’s going to say something about you looking better than me, and i won’t even be able to disagree.” the sound of your laughter fills the air and hajime huffs a laugh at himself. “well, we better get something just as good for you then.”

TSUKISHIMA’s not great with compliments, and he always wants to kick himself in the ass for it when it comes to you. you look at him standing behind you in the mirror. “i think this is the one. what do you think, kei?” biting his lip, he looks to the side and clears his throat. “it looks good.” he doesn’t have to look to feel you staring at him. “you sure? you don’t think it’s missing something?” kei takes a second to try thinking of a response, then he glances at your wary expression and lets out a breath. “no, i promise. you look great, and this is the best thing you could have chosen.” you smile at yourself, and his gaze softens a fraction before he’s back to being tsukishima—“you ready? because we’re going to be late if we keep standing here, and the group chat’s about to blow up our phones.”

🏷️ | @devilgirlcrybabiey @lordbugs @smiithys @xfangirl-trashx @passionateuchiha @scaramouchesfootstool @fifteenshadesofpinkk @lotus-sukimono @chloee0x0 @kenmaslov3r @bakugosgrenade @semifilms @sakusasdirtyragdoll @dai-tsukki-desu @Thathoneybee3 @momoewn @aintgeluh @dazaisfavgf @simpforerenn @crystal-lilac @vhenis @omiigad @kur0-kawa @semispilledcoffee @ksyhmm @idontlikeyourjob @sparrowb3nscloset @awkwardaardvarkforever @rory-cakes @prblmtic @dimslover @kuroaka @vampyrkookie @sunaslay @the-midnightskies @h0n3ysgh0st @lackey-laufeyson @bontensbabygirl @dira333 @the-b-u-n-n-y @Kamukayakmonyet @danyisapingu @isentsworld @lilithlunas @anime-ships-gay @todorokiskitten @kellesvt @scill-a

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #matsukawa x reader #atsumu x reader #hinata x reader #kuroo x reader #suna x reader #osamu x reader #sakusa x reader #iwaizumi x reader #tsukishima x reader #x reader

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formulawolff · 3 months

Text

"just one dance" - t.w.

pairing: horner's daughter!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.9k

warnings: toto lusting after a woman thirty years younger than him (what's new on this blog lmfao), sexual references, maybe some cursing (idrk), mentions of drug use, alcohol use, flirting, banter, yadayadayada

a/n: i played "here" by alessia cara like 20x on repeat while writing this fic. so we could say that this fic is veryyyyy loosely inspired by that song. also! this was a request by an anon! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

"come on," the words as slurred as he rolls his eyes, "come dance with us!"

bringing your hand to your mouth, you stifle a giggle, "max, for the last time, i am not joining the horny middle school grind circle you guys have going on over there."

"it's not a grind circle," he puts his hands on his hips, "i would say it's more like a mosh pit."

which, given the occasion, was not quite appropriate either.

at the moment, you were perched at one of the many elegant banquet tables, the rigid surfaced draped with a thick, cream-colored tablecloth. adorning the table were numerous vases, filled to the brim with floral arrangements, their fragrance oh so sickeningly sweet.

the plates, utensils, and other various dining ware were now cleared, only leaving numerous wine glasses, their crystalline stems glimmering in the dim light, swathed by the golden hue of the chandeliers as they sparkle above.

this was the annual fia prize gala, one of the most coveted events of the season. it was the showcasing and peacocking of sheer and utter wealth, as the drivers got to pull up to in their luxury vehicles, their keys handed off to the valets. every individual was dressed head to toe in designer clothing from nearly every brand possible, from christian dior to saint laurent.

you lost track of the amount of rolex watches, cartier jewelry, and hermès bags you noticed throughout the course of the evening.

the main event wrapped up hours ago, leaving the rest of the night for the drivers, crew members, mechanics, engineers, executives, and team principals to mingle and dance. and well, consume copious amounts of alcohol.

and well, perhaps do a few lines in the restroom. or light a joint outside. maybe even pop a few pills.

with the exuberant amounts of cash involved with events like this, there were surely some illicit affairs. ones that the fia ignored, simply turning their heads.

if they didn't see it, it didn't happen.

after all, you were in monaco. it was like las vegas in a way.

what happened in monaco, stayed in monaco.

and here max verstappen was, three-time world champion, standing before you, so drunk he could barely walk, begging for you to come join him on the dance floor.

too bad your phone was almost dead.

this would have been a prime opportunity to record what was unfolding before you. it would have fed the max girlies all over instagram and tik tok for months.

glancing over max's shoulder, you pick out lando, oscar, charles, and carlos. they were apart of the large formation, jumping up and down, barreling into one another. alexandra, rebecca, and lily linger around the group, their gowns swishing as they laugh, their cheeks dusted with a bubblegum pink glow.

a drunken mosh pit with a bunch of sweaty men? no thank you.

but gossiping with the girls? that was more your speed.

"my dad would have a stroke if he caught me with you guys," you simply shrug, sipping on your wine, "and what if something happened to my dress? we have to return this, you know."

"ugh," the dutch driver groans, "you're no fun."

"hallo, max," a new voice cuts in, thick with an accent you can't quite place your finger on, "congratulations on your accomplishment this year!"

shifting in your chair is none other than torger christian wolff, better known as toto wolff, team prinicipal of mercedes.

your heart skips a beat as your eyes drink in the sight of him, the way his crisp tuxedo fit him effortlessly. his dark brunette hair was messy, more than likely from the events of the evening. his bowtie was untied, hanging loosely around his neck. the first few buttons of the snowy white dress shirt were undone, exposing his skin.

fuck, was he a gorgeous man.

with sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and wide, beautiful coffee brown eyes, he knew that he was attractive, his aura brimmed with nothing but sexiness and dominance.

his hands land on the chair beside you, pulling it out as max rambles, the words drowning out in your ears.

you were more focused on his stature as he sits to your right, his thighs spread in the chair, a hand running through his hair.

"is there a reason why i haven't seen you on the dance floor?"

due to the excessive volume of the music, his mouth hovers by your ear. a shiver runs down your spine as his eyes lock with yours, lips forming a radiant smile, flashing his perfect pearlescent teeth.

"cat got your tongue? or are you just as intoxicated as maxie boy over there?"

"neither," you counter, straightening in your chair, "just not really interested, that's all."

"did daddy not give his precious diamond any dance lessons growing up?"

your father was none other than christian horner, team principal of red bull racing, sworn enemy of toto wolff.

quickly, your eyes scan your surroundings, in an attempt to pick out your father among the throng of people. to your dismay, you cannot find him.

which, in this case, could be a good thing.

if he saw toto speaking to you? oh fuck. it would be game over. you'd probably be grounded at your big age of twenty-four years old. could parents even do that when you were an adult?

you didn't really want to find out.

yet, you couldn't turn down a few moments with the team principal.

after all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

why not seize it?

for most of your life, you obeyed every single one of your father's wishes. you maintained your distance from the red bull drivers, careful not to get too close. you stayed out of the spotlight, ensuring that no negative publicity ever came his way. as much as you yearned to get to know members of the mercedes team or crew, you shied away, maintaining the promise that you would never befriend a rival.

so, for this one night, you could be a little selfish.

just this once.

even if it involved your father's biggest foe. the bane of his existence. the man he spoked about so bitterly for years on end.

"i was offered dance lessons, actually," your voice is melodic, like an angel's from the heavens above, "i turned them down. opted for horseback riding instead."

"so you know how to ride?" the team principal runs a tongue along his lower lip, his brow slightly raised, "well, i have an offer for you. one dance with me, and then later you can show me how well you can ride."

"and what am i going to be riding?" you inquire, folding your arms across your chest.

the corners of his lips curl into a devious smirk, an emotion glinting within the mocha depths as he leans in, "my cock."

heat flourishes into your cheeks, seeping all throughout your body. as your mind scrambles, struggling to formulate some sort of witty response, the team principal nods, "not expecting that, were you? i like seeing you like this, all flustered. it's cute."

"y-you're ridiculous," you manage to sputter out, hands instinctively shielding your face.

"not as ridiculous as any of those fools," his head motions towards the group of rambunctious drivers, "tell me, why aren't you with any of them? i'm sure maxie boy would love to take you on a date. lando too."

"just not interested," you shrug, regaining your confidence a tad, "don't get me wrong, they've asked. but i've always just turned them down."

toto cocks his head, his voice laced with a tease, "why? scared daddy is going to ground you for dating a driver?"

"i just rather wouldn't be involved with anyone of them romantically," you wave a hand, "it'd be too awkward if things didn't end up working out. could you imagine having to spend so much time at the paddock with someone who your dad could fire at any given moment? it'd be like walking on eggshells. i'd feel bad for any poor soul who wants to court me. they'd constantly be seeking my father's approval, on and off the track."

"well it's a good thing that i already know where i stand," toto shoots you a wink, your heart thudding against your rib-cage as he offers you his hand, "come on, just one dance. that's all i ask of you, gorgeous girl. one dance and then you can come right back over here, spending the rest of your night sulking in the corner."

"i haven't been sulking," you snort, accepting the gesture, "i've just been bored."

"how about you accept the other half of my offer then?" his accent is prominent, lingering in every word, "i've just been flirting, you don't really have to ride me. unless you know, you want to-"

"are you forgetting that we're in a very public space?" you hiss, elbow interlocked with his as you make your way to the dance floor, "people can probably hear you."

"good thing we're all drunk," he responds, the casual delivery sending you spiraling, "here, place your hand on my shoulder. i'll take this hand. the other will go on your waist."

as you follow his lead, you can't help but feel the pairs of eyes fixate on the two of you, murmurs rising above the music. yet, toto's focus is honed in on you, and only you.

"don't worry about them," he takes a step forward, your feet following in suit, "they're probably just envious that i'm with the most coveted woman in all of formula one."

"you don't mean that."

"oh schatzi," a chuckle rumbles in his chest, flowing from his lips, "do you not hear the things they say about you among the paddocks?"

"enlighten me then," your heart swells as his thumb tenderly kneads into your waist, fingers interlocking with yours.

his mouth is merely centimeters away from yours now, dimples apparent as his eyes glitter like the chandeliers above, "there's whispers that you are the most breathtaking woman in the world. the drivers talk about you all of the time, debating who would look the best by your side. you're a hot commodity. a prize to be won."

"people say those things about me?"

"would i ever lie to you?" toto arched a brow, "i have no reason to."

"that is true."

there's a twinge of resentment that bubbles up in your stomach as the song ends. oh how this moment ended too soon.

way too soon.

"still no sign of your father," toto's voice is hushed, barely audible over the music, "you think i could have you for just one more song? after that, i promise i'll leave you be."

"i think so," you feel a smile form the moment he pulls you in closer, the space between you crumbling away, "careful, mr. wolff. you need to maintain some sort of distance between us, remember?"

he shakes his head, fingers squeezing your waist, "right now, i could give any fucks what your father would think. he's lucky that i have some sort of self-control."

"and why is that?" you press, blood roaring in your ears as his head lowers, situated by your ear.

"because it is taking everything within me to keep myself from getting on my knees right this instant and lifting up that gown of yours."

#toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #formula one #formula 1 #toto wolff x you #toto wolff x y/n #f1 #formula 1 x reader #toto wolff fanfiction #formula one x reader #formula one x female reader #formula one fanfic #f1 fanfic

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freneziwlp · 4 months

Text

I hate when you're away

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel fucks the soreness away.

Warnings: +18 MDNI, smut smut smut ahead, unprotrected p-in-v, fingering, mentions of blowjob, cum eating, begging, horny asf Joel, eating out, daddy kink.

A/n: it's my first weekend with some time off, and what else should I be doing instead of trying my first attempt of writing smut hm hm?! Hehehe enjoy :) also, GIF ain't mine.

" Joel, baby! I'm so sore. " You whine softly as your fingers tenderly caress his tousled morning locks while he spreads warm, affectionate kisses all the way down your abdomen, tracing a path to his intended destination.

" Shhh, just relax now princess, let daddy stretch ya needy lil hole just a bit for his cock, will ya? " His thick accent sending shivers down your spine, leading you into closing your eyes, missing the way Joel spits in his fingers before smearing the sticky liquid all over your still puffy clit from last night's event, rubbing tight circles on the bud and dragging moisture up and down your pussy before shoving two dampened fingers inside you, curling his digits against your spongy walls, feeling you squeezing his fingers inside, your head falling back onto the mattress as you moans his name and bucks your hips against his palm.

Joel had spent a few weeks out due to one of his often travels around the state, doing god knows what with his most faithful partner, Tess. You used to be jealous of their proximity once you realized you had more than a crush on him, annoyed at how close she could casually be around him without making things up as an excuse to get his attention. Thankfully, the jealousy quickly went down the toilet once you found out she probably liked women more than himself did when she boldly hit on you while she was drunk, which you might even had enjoyed if you weren't so focused on seducing her partner.

You were reading a book on the living room's couch when you heard the jingle of keys unlocking you and Joel's shared apartment's door, your back sinking in an somehow uncomfortable position in the old cushions. You dropped your book aside, getting up to greet your man as he had spent long enough away from you, making you all needy for his presence and touch. To your dismay, instead of embracing you with his strong arms and whispering sweet nothings against your hair in attempt to show you how bad he had missed you, Joel didn't even look at you on his way in, dropping his seemingly weighty backpack on the floor, loud thud filling the air, before hurriedly barging in to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him.

You froze next to where he had just gotten in, not knowing how to react to his awfully unsual demeanor. As a matter of fact, you hadn't even had time to look in his eyes, only taking a hint of his beyond smudged clothes as he stormed away from you. Concern fill your chest as you begin to try to piece the puzzle on what had happened for him to act so distressed. Had the work he went to get done gone wrong? Was he pissed at someone who deared to go against him? You even wondered if Tess had gotten fucking killed by some motherfucking clicker. An assumption that soon vanished once you hear her voice on the other side of your door, talking to someone random on the hall.

Maybe he was just sick of you, afterward. Maybe he had gotten back to his strict and fuzzy way of treating you just like he was when you first got in his and his friend's way.

Unbestknown to you, the reason Joel had ignored your presence was due a fucked up wet dream he had had in the middle of the night when camping in the woods a few days earlier, leading him into waking up with a hard and leaking cock against the restrain of his pants, furious at how he wouldn't be able to take care of it when Tess was snoring right next to him and you were miles away. He tried to ease himself the best he could, struggling whenever he'd revivid the dream where he had you all on fours as he pounded you from behind, squirting on his cock as he demanded for you to cum, referring to him as daddy.

Well fuck, the way he missed your cunt the following travelling days should be forbidden.

The second Joel left his shower he went out looking for you, not bothering to wrap himself up in a towel much less get his body dried. You were sitting down, still in the living room, blankly staring at a random wall when he found you, a hint of regret hitting him when he realized that it was probably his fault you were so quiet but the incessant throb of his cock vanished the concern away. He approached you with loud steps, your eyes widening as you take in his naked form, droplets of water tracing paths behind him and all over his shaped body onto the floor below his feet, your eyes following his whole, parking at his pelvis where his cock was standing hard against his wet stomach, tip glistening with precum. Your mouth went dry as waves of shocks found their way up to the pitch of your stomach landing onto your core, it was safe to say the image of him only took mere seconds to affect you. Joel had his glare stuck on your face, his features harsh and eyebrows furrowed, almost as if he was in pain.

Joel knew that if he looked at you the moment he walked home, all sweet and loving with your big sparkly eyes staring at him, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself as he was in a dreadful need of your mouth on him, but he couldn't give in before taking a long shower, there was no way you would even want to fuck with him smelling like shit. So instead, he chose to ignore you, which wasn't the smartest choice considering you probably would have nasty second thoughts on it, but he would make things up with you the sooner he was all clean and smeeling nice. And boy, did he do.

" Hi there, doll. Have you missed me?" you nodded, speechless. " Well then why don't ya kneel for daddy and show me how much ya missed him, huh? "

The following events were all a blur, your body probably working on auto pilot as it only took seconds before Joel had himself shoved deep down your throat, hands tugging tightly around your hair as he bobbed your head against him the harder he could, desperate to fill your throat with his thick ropes of cum in attempt to get rid of the burning feeling of his need. Which obviously, wasn't enough. After making you give him head he fucked you senseless on the floor, making sure to vividly manevour you in all of the positions he had dreamt of while traveling. You and Joel spent the following hours drowning yourselves in each other's desires until there was no hint of energy left for you to keep going.

That was until he woke you up the morning after, in your shared bed, spreading warm kisses all over your face and neck, engulfing himself into the warmth of your body and silently thanking the heavens for letting him return home safe to your embrace. No matter how much of you he had taken the previous night, his cock didn't seem to take any near satisfaction from it.

He keeps fingering you until the previous soreness you'd been feeling turned into a desperate buck of your hips, wishing for him not to stop, your cunt twitching and leaking as you feel yout orgasm approaching.

" Are you ready for me, doll? " Joel towers over your laying trembling body, bending his torso so he could grab your tits, assaulting your erect buds with harsh pinches. You moans, nodding quickly " Yeah? Then beg for it, wanna hear ya say it "

He knew you hated when he made you beg, annoyed at how easily he could work his way onto your brain and manipulate you into becoming nothing but a slutty whore for him. He knew you hated that you were so easy to succumb to him, not willing to stop once you had it started.

" Oh don't ya try to stop yourself from bein' my bitch now, doll. Your pussy's dying for my cock to get it all wretched " You whimper, your core burning for him.

" Please Joel, p-please... please fuck me! Come on, ugh, I need you inside me already "

Your pleads seem to ignite fire on him as he lowers his face next to yours and smirk hungrily, like a predator scolding his prey. Joel presses his lips against yours in a harsh motion, swallowing your moans. He keeps on clutching on your tits, his free hand lowers to grab his member, holding it against your now drenched cunt. He interrupts the kiss and gets back to kneeling in front of you on the bed, he positions his throbbing cock onto your entrance, bumping on it, eliciting a loud moan from you.

" Mhmm, such a naughty lil bitch for me, all whinin' and beggin', gonna fill you up so good hun' " All of his teasing was growing impatience in you, he hell knows how to drive you insane and would never skip the opportunity of seeing you squirming underneath him " Joel, will you shut the fuck up and fuck me already? For fuck sakes! "

" So much swearing for sucha pretty lil mouth, I think someone's growing mad at me now, huh " He mocked, causing you to growl in annoyance, but before you could complain any further Joel fully knocked himself inside you with no previous warning, thrusting his hips rapidly, both of his hands wrapped around your hips, pushing you desperately against him as his face contorted in pleasure. Your arms pull him against you making his torso bend over again, face falling onto the crook of your neck as you stick your nails into the flesh of his back, scratching and pulling him closer in a way that probably would draw blood from it, which only seemed to get Joel even more turned on as his cock would fuck you harder at each second.

" Yes, yes, yes, FUCK, fuck don't stop, don't stop baby! " Joel smirks, admiring your perky tits bouncing next to his face.

" Such a good girl begging for me. Fuck, ya pussy feels so tight, squeeze daddy's cock harder baby, c'mon " Joel mutters against your neck, his warm lips popping loud pecks and bites on it, you loved the way his beard would scrape your skin while he was fucking you.

" Mhmmm yes, want you cumming inside me daddy, I know you can't get enough of m-me, oh fuck! "

" Fuck, ya know me so damn well, don't ya? Daddy's gonna cum so hard, doll. Where do ya want me huh? " Joel pounds your pussy harder at each sentence, you know he's close from cumming, his hips muscles burning and twitching from how hard he's thrusting his way inside you, loud wet noises filling the air and sweat dripping down his naked back as you keep on scratching it raw.

" I-inside me daddy, mhmm ughh fuck please please fuck... gonna cum, fuck... I'm c-cumming Joel "

Joel tried his best to delay his release, to make the addicting feeling of your pussy swallowing him last the longer it could, but how could he ever control himself when his girl was begging so beautifully for him? How could he resist the thought of cumming so hard inside you that it would make you see stars and scream his name? Joel is addicted to you in ways he had never been with any other woman and his body would always betray him on it. He wouldn't miss the opportunity of bragging about making you cum when himself had jerked off so many times to the thought of it while he was still a mere friend of yours.

Joel growls, emptying himself inside you, cock twitching abruptly as white ropes of cum paint the tight walls of your cunt, your eyes rolling to the back of your head once you reach your own orgasm, jaw hanging open before eliciting a loud whine.

When you're both finished, Joel's body falls upon yours, panting and sweating, his cock softening within your warmth. He kisses your sternum, resting his eyes and listening to your heartbeat.

He pulls his cock out of your hole and you stops breathing for a moment when you feel his hot seed dripping down your pussy, you didn't know if it was the aftershocks of your climax but you could feel something gathering on your lower belly again. You shove one of your hands in between you and Joel's body, your fingers collecting his dripping cum and smearing it upon your swollen clit, making a mess all over it, dragging a low whimper from your throat, which caught your boyfriend's attention.

" Watcha doin' down there, doll? Seems like I'm not the only one who can't get satisfied, huh? "

" Mhmm, seems like it, yes "

" Here, lemme do the work for my woman "

Joel lowers his body all the way between your legs, nipping on your belly until he finds the spot you needed him so badly. You were still recovering from your previous orgasm but there was something about you being covered in his cum that wouldn't let your nerves cool down, you needed him just one more time.

He holds one of your legs and rest it above his shoulder, licking the insides of your thigh before stopping by your pussy, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent, his cock twitching for what it feels like the millionth time since he had gotten back, which almost seemed impossible but honestly, he couldn't care less about possibilities. Joel's jaw drops against your puffy core, his lips caressing your clit in a silent tease, he taste his own juices on you in a delicious mix of musky and sweet.

Lapping up your gathering moist, Joel licks and sucks on your pussy, pressing his tongue right where he knows you would die on the inside, you feel the coil building up again, tousling your fingers in his hair you pull him impossibility closer, bucking your hips on his skillful mouth, he alternates between shoving his tongue inside you and assaulting your clit with circling pressured motions. You feel as if you might explode at any time, wondering when he had learned to give head so fucking well, hints of jealousy hitting you when for a mere 2 seconds you imagine him making other women feel this way, getting interrupted by your orgasm ripping through your body.

If whenever Joel would return from a long trip he would make things up with you by giving you the pleasure of seeing him panting, face covered in your cum and a smirk on his lips after fucking you senseless for a whole night, then maybe it wouldn't be all bad having him away for a lil bit.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #the last of us #the last of us drabble #joel miller imagine #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x oc #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #tlou

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mamayan · 10 months

Text

★SWEET★

Yandere! Dabi x Fem! Darling

Secret Santa 2023 Event!

Word Count: 4k+

Welcome to the Secret Santa Event, hosted by @ectologia (thanks for throwing this together ♡)

My Secret Santa is… @wilderuby ♥️ I hope you enjoy your Christmas present even if it’s not really Christmas themed~

cw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Fem! Reader • Yandere Themes • Stalking/BNE • Dubcon • Dabi • PIV • Fingering • Praise/Degradation • Kidnapping • Psychological • Dacryphilia

It keeps happening.

No matter how many times you’ve visited the local police station, or how often you knock on the door to your neighbor’s home, you keep finding them.

Innocently resting beside your head when you wake up, whether you sleep in your room, the living room, or even your bathroom, is a single red rose.

Never intact either, the delicate scarlet petals singed in one way or another, to the point now it seems to have become an art form. The dark veins running along inside the thin petals blackened until the rose takes on nearly a new color of ashen burgundy.

You went to the heroes, the police, your friends and family, and yet nothing has come about stopping it.

“It is odd but maybe it’s nothing?” Your friends had said, claiming it was seemingly harmless.

How could it truly be though? You locked your doors, all of them, from the front door to your bedroom door to putting padlocks on the windows. You’d awake to everything intact how you left it, not a single thing out of place… except the addition of a single burnt rose.

It was breaking you down mentally and emotionally at this point. Seemingly being haunted by a ghost, faceless and voiceless, no physical form to blame and scream at. You do scream though, after a year of it occurring despite all efforts—even moving to a new home in a different city. No matter what, when you wake up, there’s a rose. Whether you sleep in a hotel, your friend’s home, your parents, even on the damn subway.

There’s always a fucking rose. Every. single. morning.

It’s to the point where you stopped sleeping, staying up to see with your own eyes if you’re truly insane. You blink and it’s just there, even when you search, and search, and search. A rose, a little crispy, rests in front of you without fail.

It was possibly a new method of torture, but soon enough your nervous system no longer perceived it as a threat. You’d awake to the rose, roll over, and start your day. You stopped mentioning it to family and friends, and eventually it became as normal as breathing. You’d place the roses in a vase, comical at this point, and change them out weekly. A few you even preserved, out of sick humor more than actual appreciation. You’d be certain to mention you wanted no roses at your funeral, at least not red ones, and especially not scorched ones.

You became complacent, as you set your keys down upon entrance to your home, to see an entire bouquet of flowers resting on your kitchen counter. Singed red roses, and one singular black rose in the middle… this time there’s a card. A small folded note about the size of your palm, attached to a silken ribbon wrapped around the thin neck of the vase. Condensation slowly slid down the side of the intricate glass, and for some strange reason, your heart felt dread seeping into its core. Your blood felt icy and your farthest appendages chilled as you shakily lifted the delicate paper up. Several seconds ticked by as perspiration dotted your brow before you eventually sighed and unfolded the note.

Ready to come home, doll?

It was motionless in your home. Deathly silent and still but nonetheless your body shook as tears welled up in your eyes while the foreboding words registered with you. You were home, weren’t you? You knew that much. You also knew you’ve never been called the nickname doll a day in your life, at least by no person you knew.

Was it a joke? Your instincts screamed it wasn’t. You did a pathetic job of staying calm, dropping your keys noisily on the floor as you trembled and dropped to pick them up. You’d leave, stay somewhere else tonight and figure it out in the morning—

“Going somewhere?” You hadn’t head even a footstep. You could see in front of you now a pair a beat up leather boots. Dark jeans lazily bunched up around them with a few nicks and tears in the denim fabric. Your eyes continued up until you were staring at a man.

Bright blue eyes, framed by thick dark lashes, stared down at you. His skin was like patchwork, staples actually pierced through healthy looking flesh while connecting what looked like chard leather to it. His skin you realize after a moment. Some healthy, some burnt, while he stood casually over your crouched form with his hands shoved into the dark trench coat he wore over some ratty band t-shirt. You didn’t watch the news often, hardly ever since your stress was high enough dealing with your own issues, but you knew who this was.

What villain this was.

“Dabi…” you barely even breathed his name, almost inaudible despite your close proximity, but it seemed he heard just fine as a slow forming Cheshire grin spread his lips wide open, revealing his white teeth and sharp canines.

“What’s that doll? Y’look like you’ve seen a ghost, speak up, can’t hear ya down there.”

You were right to feel dread. This was likely the worst scenario possible, one you truly hadn’t even thought of. A notorious villain leaving roses for you? Who’d believe such a ridiculous thing? Even you were struggling to believe it.

“Th-the roses…?”

“Hn? Thought I said speak up.” The waning of his smile shouldn’t have your blood pressure spiking as it did, but you scrambled to speak louder as those violent blue irises blazed.

“Did you—uh, a-are the roses from you?” You slid back, nervous as he stepped forward, eye lids growing heavy as he settled for a smirk on his lips.

“Bingo.” He confirms, not a hint of shame or embarrassment in his laxidazical tone.

You heart hammered against your ribcage, eyes briefly leaving him to look at the bouquet on the counter, mind running faster than a hamster in a wheel. He seems fine just staring at you, expression unreadable besides shallow amusement. He’s giving you time to think, and something in your gut is telling you to tread with caution.

What does it mean to leave roses for over a year for you, every single day? No matter how difficult it was made to do?

Someone in love or someone with a grudge. He doesn’t look the part for either, but the bouquet and strange note having you leaning towards some kind of affection for you. However disturbingly he shows it.

Swallowing thickly, nails scraping on the tile floor, you give a wobbly smile.

“T-they’re very pretty… thank you.”

His eyes briefly widen, head tilting as he observes you with a keener interest than before.

“Yeah? Y’like ‘em, doll?” Doll, that nickname again, you wonder if that’s how he refers to you in his mind. You never likened your appearance to a doll.

You nod with a short jerk, smile still plastered even as your bottom lip wobbles minutely.

“I-I do,” it’s more nerve wracking to be staring up at him from the floor, so you make a show of moving incredibly slow, standing on fawn like legs as you reorient yourself with your own feet again. “You gave me a bouquet this time…” even standing you’re forced to tilt your head back to look at him.

“I did.” He confirms, and the sweat sliding down your spine begins to cool as you shiver. You keep wetting your dry lips, struggling to truly grasp how you’re supposed to get the hell out of this situation.

He seems to visibly enjoy your panic and nervous ticks, watching you pick at your nail bed while he makes you stew in confusion and unanswered questions.

What do you do when the country’s top villain stands in your kitchen? You don’t have a quirk that can compete with him and you sure as hell regret squandering the times your friend encouraged learning some self defense.

He’s not in a hurry it seemed either, leaning a hip against your counter while he continues to observe your every movement. His presence made the space around you appear smaller, like he was sucking the energy from the room.

“Are you…” you look down at your feet, “…going to kill me?”

He snickers, catching your gaze again as it flicks up briefly.

“Nope.” He pops the p with a smile.

You don’t feel relieved.

“Are you going to hurt me?” A better question in all honesty.

“Maybe, probably.” He admits casually, shrugging as if it can’t be helped.

Then the best question for the evening, one still festering in your mind, “Why me?”

The air shifts, the scent of smoke like a campfire, wafting over to you.

“Asked myself that question a lot,” he stands up straight, removing his hands from his pockets. He ignores your flinch, coming closer even as you backed up into the counter. “Asked what the fuck is so special ‘bout you,” he jabs a finger into your chest, eyes flaring as he immediately flattens his palm and lays it over your heart. “To make me like this.”

He smells like campfire and something with chemical undertones, his breath held traces of menthol and tobacoo.

“Y’know what conclusion I came to sweetheart?” The way he said sweetheart was laced with venom.

He’s so close you can feel the heat radiating off him.

“W-what?” You don’t really have an option but to ask. He looks manic, languid expression sharpening into something dark and terrifying as he smiles.

“That it doesn’t fuckin’ matter. That I can do whatever the fuck I want, when I want, how I want. Not you, the heroes, or the shitty cops can do a damn thing to stop me.” He leans back, face melting again into something akin to pure satisfaction.

“Why you? It’s your own fault, doll, should’ve tried harder not to catch my attention, don’t’cha think?” It’s like he’s mocking you, eager to get a rise from you as anger and humiliation burned in your soul.

You shook in rage. Fists clenched at your sides as you urged the tears in your eyes away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry like this.

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He laughs as you bite out the insult, a deep belly laugh, nearly doubling over as if you’d told the funniest joke possible.

“Wrong move,” he fakes at wiping a tear, eyes crinkling at the corners before your scalp is suddenly on fire, a gasp yanked from your lips as you're hauled up and back to the floor. “Said I’d probably hurt ‘ya, didn’t think you’d sass me so early. That’s okay, I’m good at breaking people, fix that mouth real quick.” He murmurs, as if he’s not using your hair like a lead and making the tears you’d fought back so hard earlier fall.

“Hurts!” You grunt, now putting up a decent struggle as you fight back.

He ends that quick with a flick of his palm, blue flames lighting up your darkened kitchen and striking horror into your soul as he waves it around in your face.

“Think I won’t do it ‘cuz I won’t kill ‘ya?” He asks, his eyes matching the flames he produces, filled with a sick sort of glee.

“I’ll make your face look like mine if you keep acting up.” That shuts you down quickly, going limp even as he releases your hair to grip your arm, dragging you through your home with confidence to where everything is, going straight to your bedroom.

“W-wait—! Dabi please, I-I’m sorry,” he stops in your doorway, looking down at you with over-exaggerated sympathy.

“Poor thing,” he coos, no less gentle as he drags you to the bed and pushes you down. It’s a gentle landing, but your panic gives you energy as you try to quickly crawl away. He grips your ankle, his palm heating so quick you hardly realize you’d been burned until you screech, teeth clenched tight as you struggle to even breathe. It hurts so much.

Your will to fight ends as he climbs above you, shrugging off the trench coat and yanking his t-shirt over his head while grinning at you.

“Too early for cryin’ doll, that one won’t even scar.” He looks disappointed by that fact. “Now, I can be nice ‘n sweet if you’ll be good for me…or I can push your fucking face in the mattress and take you like a filthy whore. Pick or I’ll pick for you.” His shift in tone as he tells you to choose how he’s going to rape you instills a strange sort of hopelessness inside you.

He doesn’t care when the water works start up again, rolling his eyes as he watches you weep and tremble like he’s done anything worth crying over yet to you.

“Well babydoll? I’m so fuckin’ hard right now you won’t like the choice I make for you.”

“Sweet…” you’re all curled up like a kitten doused in water beneath him.

He’s unbuckling the belt around his hips, tugging the denim down and his boxers along with it as he grunts.

“C’mere” he all but growls, yanking you up again and pulling at your clothing, quick and efficient in stripping you despite your actions mimicking the nickname he’s given you. Acting like a doll in his embrace as he tosses each article of clothing you wore off to the floor until you were down to your bra and panties. He’s yanking at your bra first, eyes greedily drinking you in as he leaves your top bare finally.

You sniffle pathetically, any attempt at hiding yourself useless as he uses his knees to knock yours open, fitting himself in between as he messily licks two fingers and shoves aside your panties to rub at your folds.

“Hgn!” Your eyes open wide as he crassly works two fingers into your dry cunt, his saliva barely enough to grant him access to the tight confines. “D-Dabi—,” your nails are digging into his arms, tearing at a seam of staples and causing a few small trails of blood to stream, but he’s too focused on you to truly mind.

“Y’asked for sweet doll, means you need to relax and let me in,” he explains, like he’s not stretching you open and jabbing his thick digits inside you despite your weak protests and groans of pain.

Your body gives way to the intrusion after a few minutes, adrenaline fading and leaving you almost exhausted as your cunt lubricates itself to ease his passage.

“There ‘ya go,” he murmurs almost hoarsely, letting you go when he sees you’re being obedient enough and using that freed hand to grip his leaking cock.

Your eyes track his movement, watching him grasp the thick appendage hanging heavy between his legs.

You note before even his size the piercings, not just one or two but a multitude lined his cock like a weapon more than a sexual organ.

Dabi notes the hitch in your breath and where your eyes lay, proudly running his thumb over the ladder of piercings up the spine of his shaft to the tip where two small stainless steel balls rested.

“Scared?” He teases, relaxing himself as he jerks his cock and relieves a little of the ache which had been building in his balls. Curling his fingers up, you gasp in surprise at the pleasant feeling which accompanies the action.

“Nah, you ain’t scared, doll. Not a coward, y’would’ve run a long time ago but you stayed ‘cuz you like this. You like knowing someone is out there willing to do anything to have you,”

“I don’t—,” he cuts you off with a sharp thrust up, pressing into the rough textured spot along your gooey walls.

“Shh, y’should know I don’t like liars, especially not ones who get exposed by their cunt dripping all over the bed.” His smile is filthy, lecherous gaze running along your sweaty exposed skin as he just keeps hitting that spot inside which makes your toes curl.

“P-please stop, Dabi I can’t—,”

“Still lying?” He asks, more amused than angry as you try your best to twist away from the pleasure now wracking your body.

“How’s this doll? You drop the Dabi bullshit n’say Touya when you’re about to cum, okay? Y’listening?” He stops working himself over, freeing his hand again to tap your cheek and catch your clouded watery gaze.

“Try it out.” He orders softly, sweetly, like he’s trying to be gentle but the way his fingers fuck you is anything but sweet or kind. The loud lewd squelching exactly as he said earlier, a confession to how much your body at least enjoyed his careless attention.

You huff, mouth opening to choke on a moan as he adds another finger, fingers wrapping around his wrist where they attempt to halt the sudden oversensitivity inside you.

If anything he jams his fingers inside you harder.

“T-Touya!” You hope he’ll stop. Hope he ends this strange psychological torture as your stomach coils up tight.

He doesn’t, Dabi merely groans in delight and chuckles over you, leaning down to slot his lips over yours in a kiss as messy as he’s making you down below.

His soft top lip is contrasted by the rough feeling of his bottom, but his kiss is hot and you can taste the menthol now. His scent is strong, and you catch a hint of his natural odor beneath the smoke and tobacco. Your cries are silenced by his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth when you open to complain. You shiver as you feel the drag of a piercing on his tongue, the light touch somehow more erotic. He parts sloppily, saliva connecting your lips for a moment before you flinch as he spits in your mouth.

“Open your fucking mouth.” The tone he uses and language are harsh, and you tearily do as instructed. “Stick out your tongue.” He murmurs a bit more nicely this time, humming in approval as you obey with shaky hesitation.

You won’t hesitate soon enough, if he has anything to do about it. He’ll make his words gospel in your cute brain and have you eager to listen to his every command.

Dabi lets his spit hit your tongue slowly, watching you pant like a dog with your tongue out as he brings you closer and closer to your release. The way your walls clamp around his fingers and constrict makes his cock weep to sink inside you already. “Touya—!”

You cum when he finally allows you to swallow, gushing and throwing your head back while he fucks you through it, laughing as you tense up and beg for mercy and try to escape the pleasure he’s delivering relentlessly.

“Good fuckin’ girl, say my name baby, let me hear it.” Dabi nearly loses it himself watching you shatter, eyes wide and wild as he keeps going. “Touya pl-please…hn!” You keen almost like you’re in pain, fingers digging into his shoulders now while your legs kick out.

“Y’asked for sweet, doll, means you get to cum as much as you want tonight.”

That wasn’t what you’d thought it meant, even as you choke and cum again, this time more softly as he slows his furious pace to something manageable now.

Dabi smiles at the fucked out expression you now wear, pliant in his hold as he maneuvers your body, hoisting your legs up and pressing them to your chest as you whimper in protest.

“You can stay nice ‘n pretty like this doll, doing so good f’me.” He’s not very assuring as he murmurs to you while positioning the weapon he’s armored on his cock at your dripping entrance, tapping his tip a few times on your puffy clit as you moan and twitch, view perfect to watch how he slicks himself up. “T-Touya…” he moans as he catches on your entrance only to slip up, eyes looking at your face as he licks his lips and tries again, enjoying the soft warm feeling of rubbing on your cunt.

“Yeah doll? Need somethin’?” He grins, his cock finally breaching that tight ring of muscle that lets him sink into your hot welcoming depths. “Fuck, been dreaming ‘bout this cunt for so long. Y’know how many times I’ve had to just cum on your sleeping face instead of fucking you? All the times I could’ve just woken you up and had you?” He moans, laughing at the horrified and almost strangled look you gave him, his chest vibrating with a laugh as you mewl like a cat in heat when the first row of piercings sinks into you. “Like ‘em baby? Fuckin’ looks like you do, they feel good in your little pussy?” He moans again when you accidentally bare down on him, the tightness increasing painfully as you whine when his piercings dig in too much.

“Easy doll, let me in,” he murmurs, dark hair falling into his face as he braces above you with one arm, lithe muscles taunt as he works his hips a little at a time into you, enthralled with how you fit around him enough not to slam himself inside all at once.

When the top balls of his piercings kiss up against your cervix, you’re ruined, face a mess as you struggle to adjust to the stretch and sensations.

“S’too much, Touya—” you can only cling to him, eyes drawn to where he’s sunk his entire fat cock into your depths, the way your body contorted giving you the best view.

Your words have the opposite effect though, his groan guttural as he drags himself out, drunk on the feeling of your pussy and lost to it.

“Keep sayin’ my fuckin’ name, lemme hear ‘ya scream babydoll,” you go to protest again, when he slams each inch back into you, the ribs along his cock now working in tandem with his thrusts, effectively shutting you up as you squeal and dig your nails into his shoulders for purchase.

Dabi fucks you hard and deep, speed unnecessarily to keep the air from your lungs as each thrust feels like it’s hitting up in your stomach, the pain and pleasure blending until you aren’t sure if it truly hurts or not.

He sets a steady rhythm, watching your body shake each time he lets his hips fall like a hammer, seeing his cock swallowed each time by your greedy cunt until he’s delirious at the sight.

“Pretty fucking slut, look how your pussy takes me.” He’s spewing filth at you, but when it should offend, it instead makes you burn hotter, his name falling from your swollen pouty lips like a chant.

“This cunt want me to breed it? Fill your pussy full until you can’t take anymore?” You shake your head in denial, unable to truly form words anymore as he picks up his pace, fucking you hard enough to make your headboard slam into the wall. Each thrust accompanied by a symphony of wet slapping, his balls tapping your ass each time his groin kisses your own. “Bet it does, huh doll? This greedy little cunt keeps begging for more.” He loves the dichotomy between your sloppy pussy and the way you shake your head. “No? Y’sure doll? Think it does. Don’t like lyin’ baby, remember? You want me to punish you?” You shake your head again, a bit frustrated when he slows, letting you feel all of him inside you like this, his weight keeping you pinned.

“Shakin’ your head ain’t an answer doll, I’ll be nice ‘n give you another chance, but I expect a fucking a verbal answer this time.” He’s like a light switch. Either on or off but much more terrifying when he flips it on, eyes and voice menacing as you cough and answer in a husky voice. You don’t want to test him on the punishment, truly you don’t, as your ankle still fully throbs in the back of your mind as a reminder of what he’s capable of and who he is.

“I-I like h-how you do it now…” he cocks a brow, sinking deep and then pressing even further so you whine and try to push back further into the bed.

“Y’like how I’m fuckin’ you now? That it, doll?” You go to nod before remembering his warning, swallowing thickly and voicing a soft agreement.

“Hmm… then y’oughta say it, right? Tell me how good I’m fuckin’ this pussy.” He growls, bright blue eyes lighting up as you moan, his pace increasing again as you blabber out whatever nonsense you can to satisfy him. Whatever would make him be sweet, because you have a feeling you don’t want him any other way.

“S-so good! Mhn, f-feels so good Touya, pl-please, ah,” he’s being too rough, your eyes watering and tears spilling as he drills into you, but even still you feel yourself close to coming again as those piercings rub perfectly inside you.

Dabi lifts up, letting your legs fall to either side of him as he grips both your hips tight and fucks you more aggressively. Jackhammering into your gummy walls like he’s eager to imprint the shape of his cock inside you, mouth open and brows furrowed while he groans feeling you tense up again, this time around his dick.

“T-Touya—! M’coming, oh fuck—!” You look painfully suprised when you realize how much it all becomes as you cum, the peircings becoming more prominent as you spasm and clamp down on him, eyes rolling back as your vision slightly blurs.

“Yeah y’are doll, fuck, that feel good? Looks like it did.” He chuckles, chest swelling with a deep satisfaction as he fucks you harder despite your weak whines, overstimulated cunt begging for a break despite how he bullies himself inside you.

“Tell me where you want it,” he’s close, panting and overheating even as he nears his end.

“N-not inside…” he laughs at the soft reply, thrusts only getting deeper as he resorts to simply humping into you for friction after you tighten up so much it hurts to go harder.

“Can’t pull out though doll, look how tight you’re gripping my cock.” You aren’t paying attention, mindlessly moaning as he finally gasps and cums, cock twitching deep inside you and filling you up despite your earlier request.

He nearly collapses on you, chest rising and falling quickly as he regains his breath and relaxes on your soft chest for a moment to recouperate.

When he’s caught his breath, he leans up, slowly pulling out and watching his heavy load immediately spill from your hole.

“Tsk,” he uses two fingers to scoop up what dribbled out, stuffing it back into you as you sleepily huff and press a hand against his chest.

You’re helpless to stop him, too exhausted to fight more and figuring it better to let him have his way than risk his wrath right now.

Once he’s satisfied he’d stuffed you back up well enough, Dabi is quick to leave the bed and begin redressing, speaking casually with you despite your lack of answering.

You watch the villain act as if nothing had occurred, face the same smug arrogant grin when you’d first spotted him.

It’s when he returns his attention to you that fear begins to trickle back into your blood stream.

He seems to notice too, smile growing with your apprehension.

“Now doll,” he crosses back to where you’ve sat up and covered yourself with a blanket, weary gaze locked with his.

“Ready to come home?”

Then it’s dark, your vision going out with your consciousness as Dabi catches you in his arms, dragging your limp figure from the bed and into his arms quickly.

He’s kind enough to wrap you in a sheet as he takes your house keys and phone, shoving them in his pocket as he leaves your place with you in his embrace.

He whistles on his way home, a bit eager to see your expression when you wake.

He figures you’ll learn to like your new home once you realize you’re never leaving it.

He even decorated for the season, the tree a little burnt but he’s sure you’ll appreciate the sentiment.

Dividers/@cafekistune

#Secret Santa 2023 #BNHA #MHA #Bnha Dabi #mha Dabi #touya todoroki #Touya todoroki x reader #Dabi x reader smut #dabi x fem! reader smut #dabi smut #bnha smut #mha smut #yandere #yandere dabi #yandere dabi smut #yandere x reader #bnha yandere #fem! darling

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hoseoksluna · 5 months

Text

WHITE | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 8.1k

summary: craving white wine, your boyfriend would do anything for you—even let you dom him.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: alcohol consumption, wine!oc is dominant and she's enjoying it, plushie used in a sexual intercourse, dd/lg, jk is desperate and so horny, hand job, oral sex (m. + f. receiving), fingering, squirting, raw sex, the importance of sex being imperfect, use of sex toys — yes, plural, dirty talk, spanking, face riding

note: i'm genuinely sorry for this—SDFKJDSLFJDSLFJS. this is the last wine drabble <3 i loved writing about them again, ugh i missed my babies so much. would you, guys, also like me to write two drabbles about the steam series? i feel like it would only be fair like this. vote in the poll below, pwease. <3 hope you like this last installment.

Your boyfriend has an immense, insane amount of energy.

You have partly yourself to blame. It’s Saturday night, summer at full blast and you felt it thrumming so deeply and intensely within your veins that you found yourself craving your most favored mood-lifter in the world.

White wine.

You’ve almost spent every weekend drinking myriads of different alcoholic beverages, but the white nectar is something you’ve quite neglected. Well, not so much as neglected, but forgotten about entirely. The last time you drank it, you and Jungkook were on far, far different terms. Fuck buddies with a degradation kink, skipping a party because you got horny again. You wonder if things would’ve turned out the same way if you hadn’t decided to spice up your getting ready time with that drink. Would it change the course of events that led him to confess his feelings for you? Would you have allowed yourself to fall for him, had he not made you drunk with his allure?

You only had to mention your thirst and Jungkook was quick to get up to his feet, take his keys, phone and wallet and he was out the door before you could say anything else. Your fond giggles vibrated across the room—so much that Bam lifted his head and jumped on your lap and so you spent the remaining time alone cuddling with the canine friend, catching up in your lovey-dovey dog language, kissing him all over until you dolled him up with red lipstick marks.

He looked so good. Was happy about it, too, because when his Daddy came back, he was similarly quick to show him.

And Jungkook, he laughed so hard that he clutched his own stomach, doubled over, his shoulders shaking. Then, he sat next to you on the couch, pulled you in for a hug as if he hadn’t seen you in years and very solemnly told you that it was his turn now.

The words that tumbled out of you were so swift, without any kind of embrace of thought beforehand, that you didn’t have the time to consider the consequences they would come with until they dazzled you. Through and through, ridding you of your sense of sight.

“You’ll get your kisses only if you show me that you bought the wine.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew in size, darkened in nightly fashion. Twinkles flickering, dimly. The atmosphere, the dynamic and energy shifted, folding into something you haven’t yet experienced in such depth, calming your eyes until they blended back into normalcy. And you wouldn’t perceive it for what it truly was, had Jungkook not wordlessly left to fetch his bag from the convenience store, along with a corkscrew and two glasses, and had he not crouched in front of you.

The view left you stunned. The blatantly obvious fact, too.

The fact that, somehow, you were in control.

And it was so different from the last time due to a simple reason. Jungkook wasn’t the one who initiated it. Didn’t tell you to be in charge. Didn’t give you his control in words, in commands. No, it happened arbitrarily, on its own and Jungkook submitted to it. Submitted to you. Put down his control once he lowered his form between your knees, giving it to you this way, silently.

A thing of utter beauty, filling you up with vibrancy, enthusiasm and… passion.

He showed you his haul, unloading it onto your lap. Sparkling white wine in a golden bottle, dog treats, cheese and crackers and… Miffy.

Miffy in a way you haven’t seen her before.

Made into a sleeping position. Black eyes shut, round butt risen in the air, even rounder tail perked, body soft and drowsy. Bigger than the bunny resting alone on his bed in the other room.

You purred, squeezing her hard before you hugged her to your chest, careful not to smear your makeup on her when you pushed her up to your neck. Looked at your quite small boyfriend with a ravening gaze as you said, “You got bunny a sister, how cute. Well done.”

Your praise coaxed a noise out of Jungkook that you never heard before, one that stirred the eternally slumbering beast in you that had not once seen the night enveloping you. A concoction, most delicious and arousing, of a whimper and a hum. It settled within your core, teasing you there, making you want more. You told him, or the beast more like, to open the wine and he obeyed, right away.

You watched him do it. Watched the flexing of his muscles, tense beneath the fabric of his tiger-print shirt. Watched him not spill a drop and then pour you a glass until it almost overflowed. He handed it to you, expecting you to take it from him, but you caught him off guard.

“Taste it for me first.”

His mouth fell agape. Remained parted when he immediately brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip. Your eyes followed the bobble of his throat as he swallowed and you gave him a big smile for it. A praise, too.

“Good. Let me have a sip now, my hands are full.”

In typical fashion, he drew close to you until your knees squeezed him in, legs wrapping around his torso. One hand wrapped around your hip, the other tipped the glass to your mouth and you looked at him and did not stop until you took a big gulp.

“More.”

He tipped it again. “Tastes good?”

You nodded, liking the sweetness and the fizziness, but this time you didn’t swallow the nectar. Jungkook set the glass down, along with his haul, averting his gaze momentarily and you cupped his chin, bringing it back to you. Leaned in and, in a heated kiss, you spewed the wine out into his mouth. He gasped, pulling away, flushed cheeks a tiny bit full, lips pursed, one mouth end wet with a trickle flowing down. It would’ve been an adorable sight, had his eyes not narrowed, darkened further more and pierced you with such intensity that your clit gained a drum.

Your finger felt for the top button of his shirt. “Swallow. Don’t be messy.” He did. Swore. Breathed hard. You undid the button, lifting your digit to wipe his chin clean, smearing it on his bottom lip until he opened for you. You plunged in. Let out a low sound of delight once he wrapped his puffy lips around it.

And now here you are staring at each other, finger in mouth. His newly secured energy pulsating in him, seconds away from bursting, brutally. You can see it, vividly, and you prepare yourself for it—blaming partly yourself and, feignedly, the palatability of the white nectar for being the cause behind it. He’s waiting for the next move, countenance terribly solemn and stiff. His hands must be oh so itching to take over, but he sticks to the unspoken, patient and good.

Taking out your finger gently, you undo the rest of his buttons, aware of the shudders zapping his body the more you reveal his smooth skin. Jungkook straightens for you, palms on your thighs, breathing heavily, a sound that brings out the strangest of oxymorons in you—simultaneous nervousness and confidence. Nervousness that you call the shots; confidence that the paintwork of his arousal is signed with your name.

And it’s the latter that the beast plucks out, like a twig of flower off a tree.

You push Jungkook back and slide into his lap, biting your lip at the contact of his hardness under the flimsy material of your ivory pajama shorts. His hands clasp around your small hips, but you pry them away, deeming that if you are in control, then it’s you who decides when he gets to touch you. His brows rise when you pin them down and at last he beams up at you, eyes lidded and drunk, despite the fact he merely had two sips of alcohol. Bunny’s sister rests askew in your joined laps, her head pointed towards your mound and it forces a certain idea into your muddy brain.

One that Jungkook fleetingly interrupts.

“You’re gonna take control of me?”

Ooft, making it official. You hum your agreement, repositioning the plushie. Place her directly against his imprint and, pushing the soaked center of your shorts to the side, you sit down on her soft face. Begin to rock slowly. Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat, fists clench on either side of him as well as his jaw, chin upturned. He’s holding himself back with all of his might and it is only now that you feel your wetness dripping onto the fur, now when the vibrancy of the faint pleasure spreads across your every nerve ending, now when you know that he’s struggling to keep his composure. There’s something so incredibly satisfying about it that you rock your hips harder, whimpering, hands gripping his shoulders.

“Can you handle it?” you murmur, already knowing that he won’t be able to the moment you decide to take things further, but you give him a slither of a chance to prove you wrong, rooting for him from within with a sly smile on your face.

Jungkook pokes his tongue in his cheek, sighing, eyes descending to your neck and to your perky, pebbled breasts under your low cut top. “I’ll handle anything you come up with as long as I get your kisses.”

His sweet response gratifies you so much that you arch your back, lowering your hands down to his chest, the thrum on your clit becoming unbearable, the soft friction of the plushie doing very little to alleviate it. You whine, picking up your pace. “Even—even if you don’t get to touch me?”

Jungkook hesitates, biting his lower lip. A certain sadness coasts his now big eyes that makes you coo endearingly and slow down, feel so bad for him. “Anything for you.”

You can’t halt the groan from escaping, the groan that roots from the passion and the love you carry for him, from the principle of his submission. You’ll make it up to him. Play with him just for a little while and you’ll give him his rightful upper hand right back to him, all because he was so quick to be your little toy. Without a thought, nor a word spared. Without a struggle. He deserves it. Has come a long way.

“You’re just my little slut, aren’t you?” You grab a hold of his throat, tip his chin up, feel his vein throbbing. “My pretty little slut. Hard for me, hm? Will do anything for me?”

Widening his eyes, mouth parted, he moans, sucking in a breath, chest lifting rapidly. Hand automatically lifting to palm himself, just in time to realize that he can’t because the plushie and your lap is in the way. “Yes, I’m your little slut and I need you so bad. Need your kisses.”

You hum, terribly, terribly satisfied. Horny. A fire, personified. Fire and energy—a wonderful mixture about to meet. “Where, baby?”

His breath shakes, his being radiated by you, glistening in sweat. “Everywhere, please.”

You drift your hands down his chest. Think he earned them now by asking so nicely. You sit back on his thighs, plushie in hand, ready to chuck her away, but then another idea comes up.

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, you use her to kiss him. On his jaw, on his neck, on his left peck, nipple and the mole underneath, making kissing sounds. Jungkook shudders at the contact upon his most sensitive spots and you can see his disliking for it before he voices it out. You revel in it, his desperation becoming your obsession.

“No, not from her. Please, from you.”

But in spite of that, your craving to give him everything is stronger.

You toss her on the couch, hands instantly clasping around his neck. You kiss him, wetly, on his Adam’s apple and he whimpers, urging you to continue. The sides of his throat, collarbones, shoulders—you mark him everywhere with your red lipstick, making a pathway down his sternum before you go sideways. Create a large shape of a heart on the left side of his peck, coloring it in with bruises, with kisses so hard that his manhood twitches in his pants. You’re so focused on adorning him, on the citrusy taste of his skin, that you don’t even sense your hands as they rid him of his shirt, unbuckle his belt and undo his button, dragging down his zipper.

You rise to your feet, out of breath, puffy mouth, lipstick slightly smeared, head spinning. “Take off your pants and get on the couch.”

The golden buckle of his belt catches your eye as he stands up. You wrap your hand around it and tug it out of his belt hoops harshly. There’s a hint of timidness in the vast sea of his arousal once he looks at you, aware of what you’re planning with the leather band. With a giggle, you merely wink at him and Jungkook blushes, dropping his gaze in tandem with his pants.

“Boxers, too?”

You edge around his side and envelop your arms around his middle, mouth pressing against his spine. A big, red mark of your lips amidst the broadness of his back. Utterly, utterly beautiful. “Smart boy, yes—off with them, now.”

Jungkook laughs, softly, shyly. You wish you could see his blush deepen as the clenching of his abdomen divulges to you how much he liked that praise. You also wish you could feel the fluttering of the butterflies inside, if there are any at all. You’re getting to know him in such a new way that you otherwise would have never had the opportunity to do so. The shudders, the tension under his skin, the lively energy that is yearning to burst and rain upon you—it is all so awfully exhilarating, even more so the fact that you hold it all in your tender grasp.

And he lets you. In the name of love.

He drops his undergarment and he goes to sit down like you told him to, but you squeeze him harder against yourself. No, he’s not going anywhere. The heat, his soft skin, his gentleness and shyness—you want it all close to you, close enough to seep into your pores so it can make bed there and live there perpetually. So snug, so homely—yes, that’s precisely what it is. Home.

You skim your hands down the defined muscles of his stomach, feeling them move under your fingers. Take his wrists behind his back and keep them there, unrestrained yet, his belt curled on the coffee table. You bring your hands back to his stomach, lowering them down—

“Can you reach me?” Jungkook asks, head turned to the side. You’re so used to degradation in your sex life that at first you thought he was mocking you, but on the contrary—he’s asking in all genuinity. With his forearms pressed to his sides, he’s bigger than he usually is and he wondered if your small form can stretch enough to touch him.

How sweet.

“Such a good, thoughtful boy.” You grab his length. Had to do it from the side a little bit, but you don’t mind. At least you get to see him. See the way he twists his features at the contact, see his energy and his muscles straining. “I guess I can, huh?”

You tug at his length rapidly a few times. His body shudders again, almost doubles over before he straightens his spine, whimpers trickling out of his mouth and rooting in your heat, soaking your pajamas. And when his sounds rise in volume, you swiftly let go of him. Fetch the belt and fasten it around his wrists, leading him to take a seat on the couch.

Manspreading, cock hard, red and long, almost kissing his belly button, hands behind his back, muscles big and flexed, face features darkened by his arousal, ravagedly fixed on you—fuck, you could come from the view.

You sink to your knees in front of him. Itch so fucking hard to take him in your mouth and make that energy paint you in white, but watching him like this—you plan something else entirely. Pressing one kiss on his V-line, you glide your lips upon the tip of his length, making him tremble in desperation. It takes all of your strength not to give it to him, but you know he will be overjoyed with the little thought that’s swarming in your brain.

“Where’s your fleshlight, baby?”

Jungkook loosens a hard, flabbergasted breath and his pretty, pretty cock twitches against your mouth.

You knew it.

You bought the toy together yesterday. It’s still unopened in a box somewhere in his bedroom; you don’t know where he hid it. He may have not wanted to spend money on it, but when you witnessed the way his eyes glowed, you convinced him to get it. Begged him. Told him you wouldn’t leave the sex shop until he bought it and he gave in, timidly. Much to your delight.

“In the closet,” Jungkook croaks out, clearing his throat and you kiss his other V-line as a reward, kitten licking his tip for a millisecond as you rise to your feet. He whimpers, again in desperation.

“You can’t get it, can you?” you taunt, lovingly, fingers hooking under your shorts and dragging them down your hips, your top following over your head. His eyes follow your every movement, fixing on your feminine parts, muscles bulging, yearning to touch you. You grow wetter, being looked at, being desired like that. “You’re just a helpless baby.”

He moans your name, signaling to you that there’s only so much he can take and you understand. You’re quick as you hurry to his bedroom, quick to find it, quick to pull the toy out of the box and quick to return to him.

There’s a trickle of his male arousal gliding down his length when you stand between his legs and your own desperation to pleasure him heightens in you—so much that you’re equally quick to unfold your plan.

You grab his chin and tip it up, harshly. Kiss him so nastily that he moans into your mouth and then… then you stare him dead in his eye. “I’m gonna put the fleshlight under bunny’s sister and you’re gonna show her how hard Daddy fucks his girls, yeah?” He’s left speechless, breathing rapidly, coated in sweat. Eyes narrowed, still darkened but now glowing with that familiar light that you saw yesterday, black irises piercing you through and through. “You should give her a name, though. Have something to moan when you fill her up, hm?”

It’s evident, the way his brain malfunctions, but he surprises you.

“Vinny.”

Vinny and Bunny, how adorable.

You coo, pecking him. “Vinny it is. Such a pretty name. I’m gonna make you nice and wet for her. Would you like that?”

“Please.”

You descend to your knees and you don’t hesitate to immediately take him into your mouth as far as you can. You gag around him, but you relax your throat, bobbing your head only slightly, testing yourself, wanting to stretch your throat out for him. Jungkook groans, squeaks little mewls as he doubles over once more, and the sound is so obscenely loud that your clit throbs harder in response and you would touch yourself if your craving to pleasure him wasn’t stronger.

You pull out until you can stack both of your hands on his length and while your tongue plays with his tip, you twist your wrists. Only briefly, just to make him feel a little better before you lick him all over—just to stay true to your words. And when it’s your name that comes out of his mouth once you slobber all over him, you withdraw altogether.

“Please… please,” Jungkook whimpers, trembling and you feel terribly bad for him. So much that you pucker your lips at him and kiss his cheek endearingly as soon as you get on your feet again, purposefully ignorant to the way your cunt likes his helplessness.

“I got something better for you, Daddy, don’t worry,” you reassure him, slipping into the dynamic your familiarity using the title. You grab Vinny and the fleshlight, placing her on top of the toy, on the armrest of the couch—her butt and her pussy facing him.

And when you glance at him to see his reaction to your artwork, you’re stunned by the look he gives you. Mad, mad stare. Awfully dark and menacing. It would disquiet you if didn’t know that he loved you. There’s no way you could take the liberty in toying with him like this, had you not become exclusive—had he not created a realm of safety for you to do that in.

“I’m gonna fuck the shit out of you for this,” Jungkook threatens and the sliver of normalcy in the middle of the role-play that he caught onto makes you giddy and feel so fucking alive. The threat, too. You quiver in anticipation and excitement, grinning from ear to ear. “You’re not walking after this.”

You laugh, softly, thrilled. “I sure hope so,” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm to lift him up. “I’m dripping for you.”

Jungkook hisses. Won’t budge. Remains seated, looking up at you. Doesn’t reciprocate your smile. Scowls, instead. “Can I taste you?”

You shake your head ‘no’, even if it emotionally pains you. “Not right now.”

He sighs and you take his arm again. This time he obeys—lets you lead him into the position that you want. On his knees, still on the couch, perfectly at level with Vinny’s pussy patiently waiting for him. Jungkook looks at her for a long time, studying the silicone shape of her clit and lips. You’re certain that if his hands were free, his thumb would’ve traced her soft vulva.

“Do you like her pussy?” you ask, your grin only widening, eyes blazing, emitting hot sparkles of light. You’re perhaps more excited and enthusiastic about this than he is.

Jungkook looks at her for a split second more before he flicks his intense gaze to yours. “Yours is prettier.” Your breath hitches in your throat and your heart follows its footsteps, skipping a beat, springing up and grazing your vocal cords. You can’t get a word out—you’re stupefied, in love, so impassioned that you resemble him with all that fire in you, taking after his energy buzzing in him. You sense the same movement in you, hotter, more vigorous. Your mouth parts and, cheeks awash with color, you’re on the verge of bursting. “Let me touch your little pussy, please.”

You bite your lip, pause a tiny bit just to regain your composure and you sigh, eventually, gripping his face in your hand, squishing his cheeks. “I said,” you start, emphasizing your warning just to see his flush deepen like you wanted. “Not right now. Can’t you listen?”

For a fleeting moment, there’s a heavy silence filled with his hard breaths.

Then, Jungkook glares at you.

“I’m gonna destroy you.”

You chuckle, girlishly—even though his threat yet again thrums within your skin, even though your body craves to submit to him, throw the playtime away, forget about it, entirely. “Talk all you want. See where it gets you.” With your other hand, you take his length and line it up at Vinny’s entrance. “Fuck her.”

Now—now he finally grins, a puckish smile that unnerves you a little bit, as if an idea crawled up into that smart brain of his.

And he proves you right.

“I’m gonna show her how I’m gonna fuck you,” he mutters, drawing closer to Vinny, to the arm rest. “Where’s the lube? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

A trickle of cold sweat trickles down your spine and it’s you who’s left speechless now. You were so quick to return to him that you did forget the lube, mind void of rationality, filled with him that you forgot such an essential thing. You swear under your breath, feeling stupid.

“Go get it before I rip this fucking belt apart and use it on you.”

Wordlessly, embarrassed with your head down, you go back to his room and fish for his lube in his bedside drawer, noticing that it’s where he keeps the vibrator for you. You haven’t used it in so long in your playtime and you reminisce, briefly, on the last time he made you come with it. On this very bed, on his lap with bunny on yours as he rearranged your guts with the toy on your clit—teasing you by lifting it and placing it between the plushie’s legs, acting for her and screwing up his features in pleasure.

Your heart thuds at the memory, your thighs sodden with your essence, and a certain expectation creeps within its chambers. The expectation that the toy will make a comeback tonight. That is, if you even deserve it.

You cringe at your wetness while your feet pad back to the living room. Jungkook stares you down, guilt written all over his face for being mean and it mollifies your negative feelings, dispersing them away from you. It’s enough for you—you don’t really want to talk about how you pitifully failed, nor do you want to hear a mention of it, but Jungkook seemingly does.

Up close, his eyes are awfully soft as if he made a mistake with his last words. You don’t think he did—he’s always been the leader in your playtime, so you deem he only did the right thing. Besides, you’ve worked him up to the point of anger, so from your standpoint, he didn’t do anything wrong. You did.

“Come here,” he says, gently, leaning in and angling his head. “Put your arms around me.” You do as he says, needing to, needing to be led for a little while before you can resume. You sink your fingers into his hair as you rest your forearms around his shoulders, even though all you want to do is rid him of his restraint and let him fuck it out of you. He kisses you with such tenderness that you whimper in sensitivity and amorousness, taking it one step further and moving your mouth against his, slipping your tongue inside. It’s a brief kiss, no matter its intensity, for he still has something to say. “You’re doing so well tonight. I never thought I’d ever get this hard from you being the boss of me. I’m sorry for snapping, you hear me?” he whispers against your lips, each movement causing his pillows to touch yours in faint, faint kisses that make your mind spin and your desire for him to lengthen across your whole body, deepening. You nod for him, hearing his words, needing them, too—glad for the honesty, for the check in, for the sliver of normalcy. “I’m just so horny and I need you. I didn’t mean it, okay? Daddy didn’t mean to talk to you like this. He loves you and you made him so needy that he’s frustrated, but it’s okay. He can handle it. Do you love your Daddy back, hm?”

You moan at the continuation of his words, running your fingers through his hair, inching closer to him until your chest softly collides with his. And his reassurement, the warm feeling of his skin, the potency of his love—it all erases your mistake, leaving only your sensual craving for him. You nod, again, like a little girl given a talking-to from her father, absorbing the lesson. “I love you.”

Jungkook hums, pleased, pecking you. “Good. I’m gonna do what you want now, baby. Gonna make you proud, listen to every word like a good Daddy, hm? You can do anything you want to me. You’d like that? You wanna keep going?”

You smile at him, sweetly, and he kisses your expression of contentment. It feels so good like this and you feel woozy, too. Sluggish, ready to be taken, on your way to cloud nine. You nod your head for the last time and squirt the lube all over him and Vinny’s intimate parts, your desire to take over him blending into your fuzzy feelings.

With your help, he slides inside her, both pairs of eyes watching the slick intrusion, then meeting at once—your simultaneous groans of delight merging, fading into one another, creating one beautiful, heavenly sound, unheard by all angels and celestial beings. You hold the fleshlight steady as he bottoms out, his mouth parted, brows furrowed, eyes so heavy-lidded as he devours your gaze, your face, the pleasure he feels so overwhelming that you almost think he can’t take it. The flexing of his abdominal muscles, the roll of his hips that takes all of his strength while his arms remain restrained behind his back, his neck shiny with a layer of sweat—fuck, the sight is to die for and you melt into something boneless, jelly and gooey; becoming just a hole for him.

You can’t wait for him to fuck you. Perhaps it’s you, after all, who can’t take it.

Jungkook begins to pound her, his mound hitting her clit with every hard motion and it strikes your awe. Your breathing quickens, the drum in your own bundle of nerves unwaveringly unbearable and what’s worse, he keeps fucking looking at you, perhaps imagining it’s your pussy that he’s ruining and your legs tremble, threatening to give out—

“Rub your pussy on the other end, please,” he begs, vocal cords so awfully strained, and this time you decide to gratify him.

The first moan that your mouth emits makes him fuck the toy harder—so much that it slips out of your grasp. You prop your knee on the armrest, flattening Vinny’s face on the edge of the toy, so you can gain the friction you so desperately need and it works. Your cunt soaks her sleepy countenance and you flick your eyes to it, watching the fur get darker with each rock of your hips.

“Look at me,” he grunts—and you do. A hint of softness in the dark sea of his eyes, boisterous waves of arousal sloshing to and fro. “Use her like I am. Hard—” He shows you how by a stroke that reverberates through your body, stimulating your clit by bumping into it. “And then fast.” Quick thrusts that waggle with your form, your curls bouncing against your spine.

And so you match his rhythm. It stimulates you far more than the pace you had going for yourself, your orgasm enclosing around you, inching closer and closer with each graze of your clit against the now more firm plush fur. Your brows knit, the coil in your stomach tightening to the point that it’s you who ultimately takes over and Jungkook follows, matching your rhythm, fucking Vinny faster—the silicone squeaking with each deep plunge of his length into her hole that causes your tits to slap against each other. But Jungkook doesn’t look at them. No, his eyes are set on you and you know that he knows that you’re about to come.

Jungkook begins to pant, marked chest flushing, adorning him most finely. The knowledge is getting him there, too. “You close, baby?”

You moan, sucking in a breath. “So close, I’m gonna come.”

He moans with you, approving of it. “Come, then, I wanna watch you. Make her nice and wet for me, hm?” You rock your hips faster—closer and closer, gripping Vinny with all your might. “I wanna touch you so bad, princess. Kiss you everywhere. Lick that little clit. Fuck you until all that you know is my fucking name. Please—”

You come so hard that it takes both you and Jungkook by surprise, your body violently shuddering and colliding into his. He groans, deeply, following in suit, your orgasm triggering his and he sloppily fucks the toy while he watches you ride out your high, bliss enveloping you in angelic glow.

“Yes, princess, just like that, fuck. You’re so pretty. My pretty little girl, coming so hard. Yes, fuck.” He’s losing himself, moaning your name over and over until there’s nothing left to give to Vinny, until he’s so spent that he sits back on his feet, eyes closing and opening, tongue licking his dry lips. He moans your name again, in post-high. “Please, get the belt—”

You don’t hesitate. With blurry vision and sex hormones swirling in your brain, numb by your intense orgasm, you edge around him and rid him of his restraint, flinging it somewhere away from the both of you, hating it, not wanting to see it again.

You and Jungkook exchange a look full of soft smiles and love, with his joy like a cherry on top of that. He twists his wrists, standing up to his feet, the size difference and the sudden change in energy causing him to grow solemn. No smiles, though the love remains. You feel it thumping in the atmosphere you’re surrounded by as he completely overpowers you, naturally. And you welcome it, needing it—needing to be dominated and fucked until you’re brainless.

“I love watching you come,” Jungkook murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and cradling the side of your face. “It’s all I want to see for the rest of my life. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. It’s everything to me.”

It moves through you, his words, almost painfully with their vigor and passion, passing down your body until they settle in your core. You drip for him. Still feel so terribly lightheaded and high. “Just that, huh?”

“And your snores.”

You punch his arm. Jungkook laughs and gathers your hair, pulling it away from your face, stroking it down your back. A grin of your own curls your mouth. You don’t snore, at all. And you tell him.

“You do when you’re tired.” You gasp, lifting your hand again but he catches it in time, intertwining your fingers with his. “You did such a good job today. You learn well from me. Sounded just like me. Made me proud.” He strokes your hair again and you lean into his touch, even though you don’t believe him. You could’ve done a lot better and it could’ve ended just like you planned—fucking him with that fleshlight. You guess you can save that for another time.

You shake your head. “I messed up.”

“But you didn’t.” He angles his head, inching closer so the gravity of his words can pierce your mind, but it does no such thing. You still have one of your own. Solid as a rock.

“No, I shouldn’t have forgotten the lube. It ruined everything.”

Jungkook sighs, drawing back, fondling the back of your hand before he lets go of it and clutches the nape of your neck. “Sex isn’t meant to be perfect. You didn’t ruin anything, why do you think that?” He looks at you for a long time, but you can’t take it—you drop your gaze, still feeling terrible. He calls you by your name, firmly. “Who made you think sex is meant to be perfect, huh? Bring them to me.”

You laugh, softly, at the ridiculousness of his question. It’s him who owns your virginity—you’ve never been with anyone else before him. It’s your own expectations that make you think that. “Right here.” You point to your brain.

Jungkook kisses your forehead. Lingers there, giving you a million tiny pecks, as if erasing everything from there that he doesn’t like. It touches you, deeply, and you can’t stop yourself from submitting to it as it melts your brain. Your mouth rounds in a pout, your bottom lip jutting out and when he gazes down upon you and sees it, he coos at you, kissing it. “I made a mistake, too, didn’t I?” You remain silent—still think he didn’t do anything wrong. “But it was still amazing and we came together, didn’t we?”

He’s right; you’ll give him that. “You really liked it?”

He pecks you, vehemently, on the lips and then points to the fleshlight behind him in all its glory, dripping with cum. So much fucking cum that it makes a puddle on the hardwood floor. “Do you think I would’ve cummed this much if I didn’t? Tell me, baby.”

You swear, unable to take your eyes off of the quantity of his male essence. It draws you in, magnetically, and you obey its call, lifting the fleshlight with your hands, turning around so Jungkook sees and darting out your tongue—

“Don’t.”

You swipe the muscle across the silicone hole, collecting his ivory arousal. Most of it trickles down your neck and bare chest and it’s Jungkook now who swears, loudly. Grabs you by your waist and, flinging the toy away, he kisses you. You didn’t even have the time to swallow. He’s tasting himself on your tongue and it causes you to moan into his mouth. He taps the back of your thighs and you jump, wrapping your legs around his torso. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but at this point you give zero fucks.

His tender bedding grazes your back when he lays you down on it with a harsh thud, breaking the kiss and taking your breath away. Bottom lip between his teeth, he studies your soiled body with his cum, kneeling on the bed by your form. He takes his first two fingers and collects his evidence of pleasure, flicking his eyes to yours. You meet him halfway, expecting him to plunge those digits in your mouth and you’re ecstatic, wanting it badly, but Jungkook pushes you down.

In fact, he turns you around—ass up, face down. With just one hand.

You swear, your arousal gaining new intensity. And it’s your needy hole that he plunges his fingers in, briefly stuffing you with his cum, placing his free hand on your lower back so you can arch your spine for him more. Then, he rubs your clit in hard, slow circles, making you cry out, making your legs tremble all over again—

A spank. A brassy, cacophonous spank that drives you forward, forcing you to grip onto the sheets.

“I told you not to do that, didn’t I?” Jungkook rasps. Doesn’t alleviate the burn. “Answer me.”

Fuck. “Yeah, you told me not to do that.”

You brace yourself for another spank, but it doesn’t come. You feel his lips by your ear, his body heat cocooning you as he bends over you, his fists, pitifully, on either side of your back.

“You’re such a filthy little girl. Licking my cum off like that? Making me hard all over again for you?” he tsks, the sound making you even needier. For him, for his cock, even for another spank. You grind your ass against his hip and he maneuvers so his cock slips between your cheeks. Swears, such guttural noise that you mewl in response. “You just do what you want, huh? I guess you don’t love your Daddy anymore.”

He spanks you again, harder than before, and your vowel of disagreement breaks at the concoction of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. “No—no, I love you.”

Another spank. Lips by your ear again, his body clinging to your side. “You love me?” He clamps your mouth shut, preventing you from answering.

You do, anyways, your words muffled. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Jungkook hums in question. “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you.” He digs his fingers harder into your cheek, other hand rounding around your hip and attacking you with bolts of pleasure that make you quiver against him—rubbing your clit rapidly before he sinks his fingers inside you… and merely keeps them there.

You move his hand away and he lets you, holding it, panting. “I love you so much.”

Jungkook groans, sinking his fingers deeper. “Who do you love, hm?”

He wants you to say his rightful title and you do, with all your heart. “You, Daddy. I love you.”

At your words, Jungkook begins to pump his fingers and you cry out, placing your head on his palm, taking it. “Such a good fucking girl, making me crazy—” He growls, pressing a fat kiss on your cheek, curling his fingers slowly into that place that causes your breath to hitch in your throat, your orgasm quick to catch up to you. “Good little girl that loves her Daddy, fuck. I’m gonna give you everything. Gonna eat that little pussy, hm? You want that? Want Daddy to make you come with his tongue?”

You squeak when he gives you one particular, hard stroke against your special place, mind numbing, a dam broken. “Yes, yes, please, Daddy, please—”

He draws away, instantly. Traces your back with his palms as he straightens, smearing your feminine essence all over your skin that he licks up. And then, his mouth—

Jungkook takes you in his mouth. All of you. Licking against your clit, sucking it, rubbing his face in your cunt and groaning against her. His hands squeeze your ass, painting it redder and he flicks your little bundle of nerves with his tongue until he senses your orgasm. Then, he pulls away for a second, stalling it. Thumbs your other, puckered hole.

“My pretty little pussy. All mine.”

Mewling, you shake your ass for him and he growls, cursing, spanking your cheek, taking the flesh in his hand and squeezing it. Again and again, until you feel yourself drip, until you feel him spread your legs wider and nudge himself between them, opening his mouth for it to trickle down upon his tongue.

“Sit up. Ride my face.”

You moan before you even obey, sitting down on his tongue and grinding your pussy on it. He rolls it against you, back and forth, following your rhythm. Slow and romantic, kissing your clit every once in a while, sucking it as you keep up your movement, inching dangerously close to your orgasm. He’s in absolute control of you, though. Of your pleasure and climax, stalling it before beckoning it forth again. You lose yourself in it, in the profound and all consuming delight toying with all your nerve endings, creating something within you that diffuses you with confidence and allure, that inclines you to ride him harder, whimper a little louder and knead your breast until you leave your handprint in your wake.

He lets you do your thing, but as you saw earlier today, there’s only so much that he can take.

Clasping your hips, he angles them until your hole is at level with his nimble tongue, guiding you to lean back and use his chest to hold yourself steady. And like his fingers, he fucks you with the muscle, curling it each time. The filthy noise of your slick and his saliva, his breaths and hums, your obscene moans and then his thumb rubbing your clit rapidly—it’s enough, with his evident permission, for you to come.

And you come so hard that you sprinkle his face with your dew.

He laughs in utter joy, humming—humming deeply and you’re so obsessed with that sound that you come again, shuddering violently and he spanks you, holds you by your waist, digging in his fingerprints, allowing you to ride out your high, to use him until you’re so boneless that you slump against him.

Jungkook drags you down, though, slipping, instantly, his cock inside of you. And it’s wild, wild butterflies that you feel in your gut owing to it, then pain so acute that you whine. Enveloping his arms around you, tightly, with no way of escaping, his wet face is so tender that you coo at him amidst the rush of your colorful feelings. Wipe away your dew, giggling, kissing him loudly as his cock adjusts in you and the bite from overstimulation withers little by little.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Jungkook whispers, beaming up at you, iridescent. “You feel so good around me. So tight. I love being inside of you.”

Slowly, he begins to move, causing your features to scrunch up. In discomfort at first, then in relish as your stiffened nipples rub against the hardness of his chest.

“You’re my good little girl. You take everything I give you so well. So well.” Jungkook picks up his pace, gathering your hair in his fist. Doesn’t pull on it; merely holds it. You whimper, his words loosening the overbearing tightness of your walls. “I’m gonna take care of you. You’re just my little baby. Mine—” A hard thrust. Your eyes roll back. “My baby.”

“Yes, I’m yours,” you croak out and Jungkook takes your face in his hands and pounds into you until all you see is stars. Pretty, pretty twinkling stars.

Slapping skin, his grunts—you don’t even see your orgasm coming, coming over you so violently and yet in such an exhilarating way. Your dew forces him out, forces his chuckles out again and he brings you back to him, kissing you, plunging his cock back with ease.

You’re so lightheaded that you feel like an angel, soaring in the sky. An angel that years for something more. And you tell him. “Jungkook, please, I want the vibrator.”

He merely smiles at you, arm reaching over and pulling out the toy for you from his bedside table. Turning it on, you’re radiated by the light in his eyes and you whimper in impatience. Jungkook shushes you, like a baby, clicking on the intensity until he’s satisfied, placing it on your clit.

And then he gets up.

Pushes you against his closet, back against the wood, legs around his waist, vibrator on your clit and his hand clasped around your mouth, preventing your loud moans from escaping while letting you know how much he loves being in charge. Giving you hard strokes that secure him your soul on a silver platter before he fucks you so fast that you can’t see anything. Your surroundings are a blur while his face remains clear, painted in tortured pleasure for you as if he were holding himself back.

“Come for me, Daddy,” you beg under his palm, your sound muffled, but it seems that Jungkook understands you.

Pulling away, he turns you around and gets into position again. One hand around your mouth, the other holding the toy on your clit, his dick inside. He begins to play with you, not moving his hips at all, only the vibrator. Panting against the crook of your neck, he takes a second to merely breathe with you while you’re on the pathway to another mind blowing orgasm because he turns up the intensity. “How about you come for Daddy first, hm? I know you don’t need me to move when we do this. You can come just like this. So come.”

And you do, embarrassingly, whining all over the place, twisting your hips to chase your pleasure, causing him to emit the same sounds—causing him to pound you so hard against his closet that he, too, comes in mere minutes. His fingers in your mouth, he’s loud and just as whiny as you, fucking you through his orgasm as you play with digits, sucking on them.

He doesn’t pull away for a long time. Presses you against his chest and holds you like that, still connected. The vibrator buzzes on the floor, the air is stuffed, but you’re content, the happiest angel, held and stuffed, too. With cum and dick. Heaven on earth.

Jungkook begins to kiss your neck, marking you there. Fondles your nipples, making you shudder and sigh, making you utter the three words that he deserves.

“I love you, Ggukie.”

Jungkook makes a sound that tears you apart. A whimper; the whiniest you ever heard him be. He pulls out of you, but stuffs you again with his fingers. Makes you squirt in record time, kissing you everywhere he can reach. Neck, shoulder, jaw, cheek and lips.

You must be soaring again in the clouds because you can’t feel your body, especially not when Jungkook says, “I love you, my little squirter.”

Your knees do give out, after all. Jungkook is quick to pick you up and cradle you in his arms. Wash you clean in the shower. Put on a movie for you while making you food, joining you as soon as he can.

It’s love you feel—love most profound. And as you eat the food together and finish the wine with drenched Vinny on the other side of the couch, you fall asleep with that love thrumming in your heart.

You’ll be his for the rest of your life. And he’ll be yours, too.

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#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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evansbby · 5 months

Text

𝑻𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 (𝑾𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mean jock!Ari Levinson x naive!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+, smut, mean Ari, condescending Ari, seriously he babies her so much in this, manipulative Ari, in fact just wg!Ari bc y'all know he's a warning in himself, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), cheating, lying, adultery, kind of public sex, sugar daddy vibes, dirty talk.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You skip class to attend Ari's basketball practice because he finally wants to hang out with you.

𝐀/𝐍: This is a drabble that takes place before the events of Wicked Games. You don't have to read that fic to understand this drabble! Enjoy! And shoutout to this anon for the idea for this drabble!

“Ari, you were so great!!!”

You can’t contain your excitement. You’ve spent the better part of the past hour sitting front row and watching Ari dominate during basketball practice. In fact, you’re so excited that you forget yourself, jumping into him and throwing your arms around his neck to give him the biggest hug. It doesn’t help that you’re genuinely so excited to see him. You haven’t spoken to him for an entire week and a half. But Ari had told you that he was going through the process of breaking up with Sharon, and that he needed some alone time to do that. He’d told you he’d contact you when he needed you, and that just so happened to be today! And of course, you’d jumped at the opportunity to see him play.

“Baby, relax,” Ari chuckles, not quite hugging you back. He looks around to see if anyone has seen you embrace him. The court was slowly emptying out, but a few people are still milling around, and so he simply pats your back before gently peeling you off of him, “I know you’re excited to see me but we gotta wait till we’re alone, don’t we?”

You pout, “I know, I know. But I thought you’d broken up with Sharon by now like how you said you would.”

Ari pauses before he shoots you his winning smile, chucking you under your chin like you’re a baby or something. “I have broken up with her, beautiful. But you don’t worry your little head about that, alright?”

“But–”

“No buts, baby. Let daddy handle his business, okay?” He grabs your shoulders and turns you around, patting your ass condescendingly, “In fact, why don’t you go sit in the bleachers and wait till I call you over?”

You frown, a part of you not appreciating how he’s lowkey dismissing you. “But I skipped class to be here for you, Ari. Just like you told me to.”

“I know that. And I’ll show you how appreciative I am for that later. But right now, there’s still people around, and we gotta lay low for a while, okay? You know daddy only wants what’s best for us.”

You’re about to open your mouth to argue some more, but when he squeezes your hip reassuringly, all your thoughts melt away. Oh, he was just so dreamy! You loved how in control he was, how he walked around like he owned everything and everyone. How he controlled you with such charm and ease. He really was just so manly and perfect! And things would be even more perfect once he made you his new girlfriend. Which would probably be any day now.

You sit in the bleachers and watch him talk to his teammates. A few cheerleaders are milling about – probably friends of Sharon, which was definitely why Ari didn’t want to be seen with you. It was understandable, but Ari had told you that him and Sharon had been having problems for a while now. He’d told you that they fought a lot and he didn’t want to be with her anymore, and vice-versa. He’d also told you that you were a baby and you didn’t have to worry about his relationship problems because babies like you couldn’t handle stuff like that and it was better if you just didn’t think at all.

So, that’s what you do. You try not to think. Sometimes, it’s easier that way.

After around fifteen minutes, the last person leaves the indoor court, and Ari closes and locks the door behind him, a mischievous grin on his face. You vaguely wonder why he has the key to the sports hall and who exactly put him in charge of locking up, but think better of bringing it up with him. Ari never really answered any of your questions properly anyways, and he also had a way of making you forget you’d even asked them in the first place.

“Hey, cutie,” he easily picks you up off the bench and into his arms, your tiny pink skirt riding upwards but he doesn’t care. In fact, he cups your butt cheeks lewdly, giving them a squeeze as he carries you down the steps towards the front benches, “I love your little outfit.”

You want to be mad at him for making you wait an extra fifteen minutes while he had ignored you, but your insides turn to mush at his compliment. You’d chosen your outfit especially for him, of course. Early on in your “relationship,” Ari had made it clear how he’d wanted you to dress for him. In cute, girly clothes – always revealing so he’d have something to look at while he played. And always short, so he’d have easy access once he had you all to himself.

And you loved dressing up for him. Today, you’d worn a cute light pink miniskirt and a white tank top with matching pink lacy trim. You’d gotten a few looks from the other guys on the basketball team – namely Curtis, who had even winked at you! But all of them paled in comparison to Ari – he was the biggest and sexiest and hottest man you’d ever known. And you were so glad that your outfit had impressed him.

“Thank you, I wore it just for you,” You beam up at him, winding your arms around his neck again to be as close to him as possible as he smirks and sits down on the bench, with you in his lap. “Although it’s not very nice how you ignored me the whole time I was here!”

“Aww, you’re such a little baby, aren’t you?” Ari coos, doing that thing where he starts babying you to the extreme. He even reaches up to pull your cheek condescendingly. “Little baby skipped her class to see me, huh?”

“Uh huh!”

“Well, you have my full attention now, sweetheart,” He fingers the material of your skirt, pushing it up even more to get a better look at your bare legs. “And of course I know you wore this for me, you always wear your slutty little outfits to impress me. I find it very cute, actually.”

He kisses the top of your nose while you squirm, embarrassed at how obvious your attempts at winning his favour are. It’s just, you can’t help it! He’s the hottest, most popular senior on campus and for some reason, he’s interested in plain, simple little you! You feel like you’re living in a fairytale sometimes.

You open your mouth to say something, but soon grow distracted by Ari as he slips the straps of your top down your shoulders. Then he dips his finger into your cleavage before tugging your top down. He licks his lips when your lacy pink bra is exposed, cupping your tits through the material and squeezing. Hard. It makes you wince, but you know better than to stop Ari while he’s fondling you. You’ve learnt that he likes to take his time with your body, exploring, kissing, caressing and touching each crevice. He especially loves your ass, and recently he’s been quite into your tits too.

Just the other night, he’d made you give him a strip tease. He’d sat on the edge of your bed, a can of beer in his hand from whatever party he’d stumbled out of before making his way to your dorm room in the early hours of the morning. “Strip for daddy, and maybe I’ll give you a reward,” he’d said, watching with dark, expectant eyes as you’d shyly slipped your PJ top off. “Slower, baby,” he’d commanded, before grabbing the front of your bra and yanking you into him with such force that your pretty bra had snapped completely, and your tits had spilled out. Immediately, he’d latched on to your nipple, sucking, nipping and biting for what seemed like hours. He’d even poured his beer all over your breasts, licking it off while he made you hump his thigh and cum over and over again till you’d cried like a little baby from the overstimulation.

Now, the memory makes you shiver as you watch Ari play with your tits, a look of unabashed lust on his face. Shyly, you bring your fingers up to card through his thick hair, smiling when he slightly leans into your touch.

“Are we gonna go back to your room tonight, Ari?” You ask him innocently, twirling a piece of his hair round your finger.

“Nah, I have somewhere to be later, baby. You know how it is.”

Your heart sinks and you pout, hoping he’d see your disappointment but he’s too busy fondling your body to notice. You’d never been to Ari’s room before – he’d told you never to go there. That if he wanted to see you, he’d call or text you himself. The furthest you’d gotten to was the inside of Ari’s car in the dead of the night when the roads were all empty. Apart from that, he always just came to your dorm room. In fact, you’d given him a spare key to make it easier for him to come and go as he pleased, hoping this would show him how serious you were about him.

Suddenly annoyed that he was going to ditch you tonight to go somewhere else, you untangle yourself from him and jump off his lap, a glimmer in your eye.

“I wanna play basketball!” You say, voice all sweet and twinkly. It wasn’t often that you ever got to tease him, and even rarer when you succeeded. But that didn’t mean you’d stop trying.

Ari looks unamused, “Get back on my lap.”

“No, I think I’m gonna play some basketball.” You muse, skipping away from him and hoping he chases you. You grab a basketball from nearby and dribble it gently, not wanting to ruin your nails, “Come play, daddy.”

Teasing Ari always went one of two ways. Often, he just wouldn’t have it, telling you that babies like you weren’t meant to tease, that you didn’t know how. He’d shut down your teasing instantly, telling you that he was the one who’d taught you everything you knew about sex and therefore he’d always be two steps ahead of you. Either that, or he’d just lose his patience and fuck you hard just to show you that you could never tease your daddy, that he’d always be in control.

But sometimes… Oh, sometimes he’d play along.

Now, he stands up to his full height (six foot six and a half, last time he’d let you measure him), and in two easy strides he’s on the shiny court floor next to you. You smile cutely up at him, dribbling the ball in front of his face. But a mere second later, he snatches it away from you before you’ve even realised what’s happened. Smirking, he spins it around on the tip of his pointer finger with ease, looking down at you cockily.

“You wanna play, huh? Fine. Let’s play.”

What follows is insanity. You’d thought he’d go easy on you, but he does the exact opposite. “Try and steal the ball from me,” he challenges, dribbling circles around you while you try to grab it from him. But you’re way too slow, and too small. Easily, he switches hands while dribbling, or he holds the ball over your head, making you jump for it. At one point, you do manage to get hold of the ball, but he slaps it out of your grasp so easily it’s laughable. Except the only one laughing is him, while you shoot him a sour look.

Your plan had been to be lithe and fast, trying to look sexy on the court as you dodged him each time he tried to grab you. But Ari’s got you all sweaty and bothered, running around the court and trying to catch up with him as if it’s a basketball bootcamp or something.

“C’mon, Miss ‘I wanna play basketball,’ try and shoot a basket,” Ari taunts you as if you’re one of his real-life opponents, throwing the ball at you not-so-lightly. You breathe hard and scowl at him before taking aim and doing your best imitation of a jump shot. But Ari, being the giant that he is, easily slaps the ball away before it even touches the rim of the basket. He doubles over in laughter, “Wow, princess. You really suck.”

“Don’t be mean!” You complain, trying to shoot again. “It’s ‘cause you’re in the way, you big giant! Move so I can see where I’m shooting!”

Ari rolls his eyes, not budging an inch, “It’s called guarding, genius.”

“I don’t care what it’s called! It’s not fair if I can’t see the basket!”

He shrugs, moving to the side. You smile, take aim and shoot. But of course, he easily swats the ball aside again, using his other hand to stifle his yawn while you gape at him.

Then, he decides it’s time to teach you how to do a layup shot, “Just take three running steps and jump to shoot.”

“Okay, Ari, thanks for the pointer!”

You take a deep breath, preparing to do just that. Except he shoves you the moment you start running. But even a light shove from someone as big as Ari has enough force that you fall over, ending up in a sorry heap on the shiny court floor, a dismayed look on your face as you stare at your broken nail.

Ari doubles over in laughter, as if he’s just performed the practical joke of the century. You pout, staring sadly at your poor nail. You’d just gotten this set done less than a week ago in anticipation that he’d notice and say something! You can’t help it when your lower lip juts outward even more, your eyes welling with tears.

“Aww, come on, don’t be such a baby,” Ari crouches down next to you, patting your head condescendingly, “It’s not my fault girls suck at basketball.”

“You’re a big fat cheater and a meanie!”

“And you’re the cutest little cry-baby,” he chuckles, pulling your cheek while you glare at him through your tears. Oh, why did he have to look so handsome, even with that cocky, shit-eating grin on his face? He wipes your tears with his thumb, amusement shining through his eyes, “See, that’s what happens when you try and act like a tease.”

You cross your arms over your chest, “I hate you.”

“For being a better basketball player?”

“No! For cheating and for being mean and for breaking my nail!” You sniffle, “I’m a girl, Ari, you’re supposed to go easy on me!”

“I was going easy on you.”

He bursts out laughing when you shoot him another glare. But what you don’t expect is him lifting you up. Easily, as if you’re as light as a feather, he hoists you on top of his shoulders. Fearfully, you hang on tight for dear life as he stands up to his full height, handing you the basketball in the process.

“Fine, if the baby wants special treatment, I guess that’s what you’ll get,” he says, walking over to the hoop till you’re face to face with it. “C’mon, baby. Shoot your shot. If you miss from up there, then I’ll have no faith left in you.”

Smiling through the remnants of your tears, you finally score a basket, letting out a delighted little yelp despite the fact that you’ve literally been hoisted up to eye level with the hoop. “I did it! I scored a point!”

Ari gently puts you down on your feet, before thinking better of it and hoisting you up again. This time, you wrap your legs around his waist while his hands rest firmly on your ass.

“You did,” he says softly, “You scored a point. Well done, baby.”

He kisses you, and the gentleness of it catches you by surprise. But it only lasts a second or two before he grows impatient. Then, his kisses grow more ravenous, biting at your lips and pushing his tongue past them. But even when it’s all fast and rugged, his kisses are still the best, they still make your head spin in the best way possible, make you want to make out with him forever if he’d let you.

He takes you back over to the benches, back to how you two were before the impromptu basketball match. But this time, he quickly slips your top off, till you’re straddling him in just your pink lacy bra and your tiny little skirt.

“You broke my nail, by the way,” you point out when he takes your hand and presses it against his hard crotch.

“Mm?” Surprisingly, Ari tears himself away from kissing and fondling you to take a look at your broken nail and scoff, “Just glue it back on or whatever.”

“That’s not how it works, Ari!”

He rolls his eyes, before getting his phone out of his pocket. You watch as he types away, not too sure what he’s doing. But you don’t have to wonder for long, when a second later, your own phone pings with a notification.

A. Levinson transferred $400 to your bank account.

“Oh my gosh, Ari! You shouldn’t have!” You squeal happily, inadvertently bouncing up and down in his lap and making him grunt and press his boner up against your butt. You hug him tightly, maybe deliberately pressing your chest against him. “Seriously, nails don’t cost this much to get done.”

He shrugs, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “Then go buy yourself something nice with whatever’s left.”

You definitely would! Oh, you loved how he took care of you! This wasn’t the first time Ari had sent you money casually on a whim. It’s how you’d found out that he was loaded – or his parents were. Like in the three weeks that you’d been hooking up with him, he’d surprised you with multiple gifts and gestures. Once he’d had a box of very expensive lingerie delivered to your room along with an intricate bouquet of pink roses. The lingerie had been pink too, and you loved how he knew it was your favourite colour.

He was also always calling you Ubers, and ordering food for you, and sending you exorbitant amounts of money whenever you mentioned having to get the bus to go into town or something normal like that. Once, you’d said you were going shopping with Wanda, and Ari had told you to take his credit card with you. You’d declined, obviously, but it made you giddy knowing how well you’d be taken care of once he made you his official girlfriend.

“Thank you, daddy,” you say sweetly. Feeling slightly devilish now, you get off his lap and sink down to your knees in front of him. Ari shoots you a cocky look, pressing the top of your head down as he pushes your hand past the waistband of his sweats. You lick your lips when your fingers encircle around his thick cock, pulling it out right there in the middle of the court.

You’d never given a blowjob before Ari, and he’d made sure to teach you how to do it to his exact liking. Now, he holds your hair out of the way so he can see your face as he shoves his dick past your lips. He always warned you that you had to maintain eye contact while you sucked his dick, that all good babies looked their daddy straight in the eye when getting their throat fucked. And you feel him get even harder, the act of stuffing his huge cock down your tiny throat making him hornier than ever.

“Good girl,” Ari breathes, petting your head condescendingly, “Such a good little girl for daddy. You take my cock so well, don’t you? Like your lips were made for sucking cock, fuck!”

You try to take him as deep as you possibly can, but he’s way too big and girthy for you to deep-throat him all the way. The first time you’d tried, you’d ended up gagging and crying and Ari had laughed at you and called you a baby and told you that you had to learn to be a better cocksucker if you wanted to keep him happy. You’d promised that you’d try, and he’d been all too happy to teach you, using those “lessons” as an excuse to get you on your knees in front of him as many times as he wanted.

Not that he ever needed an excuse. He knew as well as you did that Ari Levinson owned your body.

“You’re such a slutty little girl, sucking your daddy’s cock in the middle of the basketball court,” Ari whispers, his voice so gravelly yet velvety smooth at the same time, turning you on down to your core. “Is this why you were so desperate to see me, baby? You wanted my cock that badly, huh?”

He pulls your head back, and you gasp for breath before nodding desperately, “Y-Yeah, I think about you all the time!”

Ari smirks, “I know you do. You’re fucking obsessed with me, aren’t you?” He yanks your hair, making you nod your head up and down with your mouth stuffed with his cock once more. “And you look so fucking cute, baby. On your knees for your daddy like the obedient little girl you are.”

He thrusts into your mouth hard as fast, effectively fucking your face ruthlessly. He often got like that, rough and hard and rugged. He was just so strong, and you guessed that sometimes he just didn’t know his own strength. Like now, as he bobs your head up and down roughly on his thick length, like an iron rod jamming in and out of your mouth at top speed, getting your face all messy in the process – which he also loved.

From your peripheral, you see Ari’s phone vibrate and glow from where he’s kept it right next to him on the bench. And you don’t mean to invade his privacy, but it’s close enough that you can just about make out the text that appears on his screen.

Curtis: You still with your little fangirl? 😂😂😂

You pull off Ari’s dick with a pop, quickly wiping your mouth and frowning up at him.

“Fangirl?!”

Ari grabs his phone and reads the text quickly before setting it down again and smirking. He rubs your cheek softly while pumping his dick casually with his other hand.

“Classic Curtis. He probably meant to send that to Colin. You know Colin Shea, right baby? He and his band had a gig tonight, and he has literal fangirls who come watch his every show. That’s what Curtis was referring to.”

Oh. That made sense. Didn’t it?

You smile up at Ari sheepishly, “S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions.”

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, instead yanking you up by the hair till you’re on your feet once more, standing between his legs while he looks at you and pumps his dick. Pulling you into his lap, his hands immediately go to your butt, kneading it and squeezing it like it’s a toy. You can feel his dick, hot and heavy and twitching against your stomach, and it makes you want to press your thighs together.

Ari seems to get the message, finally pushing his hand between your legs to give your poor, neglected pussy some attention.

“She missed me, huh?” Ari grins wolfishly, his fingers gliding up your soaking slit before he pinches your clit meanly. “Tell me how your little baby pussy missed her daddy.”

“Sh-She missed you!” You garble, playing along with his dirty talk as you rock against his hand, wanting him to push his fingers inside you, or rub you or do something to make you feel good too. You haven’t felt his expert touch in more than a week, and your body is desperate for the relief that only Ari Levinson could give you.

Instead, he grabs your hips, lifting you and lining your cunt up on top of his hard dick. Oh, he was going to fuck you! Right here in the bleachers of the basketball court! Thrill ripples through you at the thought of doing something so naughty, although you’re happy that he’d locked the doors and no one was able to come inside.

“How bad do you want my daddy dick?” He breathes, looking all casual as if he’s not as feral for you as you are for him. You envy how well he hides his desperation, how in control he always is. You wish you were like that, but sex was so new and exciting to you. He’d made you obsessed with his cock, he’d made you want him all the time, and you had zero patience when it came to fucking him and getting that sweet pleasure only he could give you.

“So, so bad, Ari! Please put it in me! Please!”

“I don’t know, baby,” He pretends to think about it, the cockiest smile on his face, “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”

“Please do it!”

Desperately, you grab at his cock but he easily slaps your hands away and shoots you a warning look.

“Beg me some more,” he orders you while pumping his dick lazily, “And I’ll think about it.”

You do. You beg him and you plead him. With Ari, your self-respect and dignity sometimes went out the window and you didn’t even care. When he’s got you all submissive and desperate, you’d do absolutely anything he asked of you. He’s got you right under his thumb and he knows it, and all you can do is cry like a baby, and whine for his cock. Tell him how badly you want it, how you’ve been craving him and missing him all week. How you always think about him, how you miss how full he made you feel the last time he fucked you. How he made you see stars behind your eyes with how skilled of a lover he was.

Ari smirks, praising you for being such a desperate little slut for him, and he’s about to sink you down on his dick when his phone starts vibrating again. This time, you don’t see the name that flashes on the screen, but you pout in dismay when he answers the call.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m with Curtis.”

You frown. Who was he talking to? One of his other friends?

“Tonight? Really?” Ari frowns, listening to whoever’s talking on the other end, “Yeah, that’s cool.”

He grunts, “Okay, I’ll be there when I’ll be there. I’m busy right now. Bye.”

He hangs up before focusing his attention back on you.

“Wh-Who was that, Ari?”

“No one.”

You bite your lip, “Was it Sharon? I thought you said you broke up with her?”

“We’re practically broken up,” he says vaguely before he starts kissing your neck. “You done asking questions?”

“I just think that– AH! OH FUCK!”

In one quick motion, Ari slams you down on his cock. Hard. You scream and grip on to his muscular biceps tightly, and he doesn’t give you even one second to adjust or catch your breath before he starts bouncing you up and down.

“Little girls like you aren’t meant to ask their daddies dumb questions,” he whispers silkily in your ear, forever casual and unperturbed as he fucks you hard, “So now the only think I want to hear coming out of your mouth is my name, got that?”

“Ngh, fuck! Y-Yes, daddy!”

“That’s my good little girl.”

AHHHH omg, first wicked games drabble done!! Poor reader, she has no idea the rollercoaster she's in for. I had forgotten how innocent and naive she was until I reread WG1 a few days ago, and that's why she's so innocent here! Ari really goes on to do a number on her lmfaooo (and Steve too). BUT ANYWAYS. Do let me know what you thought! Reblogs, comments, asks with feedback are all SOOOO welcome! This is around 4k words btw but I wrote it fairly quickly in a few hours! TYSM K I SHALL STOP YAPPING NOW BYE.

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #steve rogers #wicked games

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