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dawnagustd · 2 years

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demon time || pjm (18+)

❃ Festivaled Away: Wine & Spirits Festival hosted by @bangtanbathhouse

⤞ Ticket: Celebratory Drinks ⤞ Main Event: Drinking Games ⤞ Games: Body Shots | Threesomes | Strangers | Sex Tape | Stripper Reader

Main Masterlist | Read on AO3

“Hello?”

Jimin’s phone rings as soon as he steps out of the shower. He wraps his towel around his waist and walks over to the sink to see who it is. To his surprise, it’s you.

Pink tracksuit girl.

He doesn’t know you that well. Only your place of work, your first name, and that you’re in a shitty relationship.

He met you randomly, leaving the downtown area one night. You were walking down the dark streets, looking upset and angry. Jimin isn’t anywhere near a gentleman, but he wouldn’t want someone he cared about walking alone like that, especially at night.

You were hesitant initially but accepted a ride from him after his persistence.

Upon first glance, he could guess your profession. Glitter-streaked hair, a medium-sized black duffel bag, a pink suede tracksuit covering your nearly nude body—definitely a stripper.

After the third run-in, you told him you worked at the Penthouse, a strip club just three blocks away from his nightclub on Main Street. Quite often, your girlfriend would fail to pick you up—that’s how you’d end up in the passenger seat of his Ferrari that night a few months ago.

It was always the same issue each time. Even now, Jimin wonders why you were still with her. However, he isn’t one to pry into other people’s business. You’re an adult; you can handle whatever choices you make. He’s got his hands full with his personal life anyway.

He’s never too busy to lend a helping hand, though. That’s why he gave you his number, so you can call whenever you need a ride—or if you ever decided that you’d like to ride him.

“Hey, Jimin. It’s me. The girl that works at the Penthouse—”

“Yeah, pink tracksuit.” A tired yawn accidentally escapes him while stating your real name. “Damn. My bad. But I know who you are, sweetheart. What’s up?”

He hears the sound of traveling vehicles and knows you’re walking somewhere. It’s only 10 PM, so he wonders if something happened at work. Guys can be pigs in those places, and he can only imagine how uncomfortable that would make you. Judging by your demeanor, he can tell you’re pretty introverted despite the expectations listed in your job description.

“Everything's okay, huh?” he checks.

His gut tells him something’s off, and your exasperated sigh lets him know he isn’t wrong.

“I’m okay, but they decided to send us home at the last minute… Said that the weather wouldn’t bring in many customers. My shift ended an hour ago,” you answer.

Jimin nods before putting his phone on speaker and setting it on the counter. He’s already getting dressed before you can ask him for a ride because it’s already raining, and your apartment is on the other side of town. No way you’d make it in these conditions, and he doesn’t want you to run into any trouble on the way there either.

“Yeah, it’s about to get nasty out there. I shut down for the weekend because there’s supposed to be some flooding downtown,” Jimin mentions as he pulls up his sweats. “Do you need a ride home? I can come and pick you up—”

“No, no. It’s fine. I was going to ask, but you seem really tired, so no worries.”

Jimin scoffs. “Are you crazy? It’s pouring down out there. Where are you?”

Eventually, you answer, “At the bus stop on third. I was trying to wait out the rain, but.…”

“Yeah, I’m on my way.”

He grabs his phone and steps into his room to slide on some shoes. You start apologizing over the phone, but there’s really no need. Jimin’s not a saint—however, he has a mom, a sister, and maybe he’ll even have a daughter someday—he’d want someone to do the same for them if he wasn’t around to do it himself.

“Jimin, I am so sorry. I hope I’m not ruining your plans or anything. I had to cover all of the rent for this month, but once I can work a full night, I’ll repay you—”

“You’re good, babe. I’m not doing anything tonight.”

Well, besides his “Friday night” a little later but nothing important.

“Sit tight. I’ll be there in like seven minutes,” he promises, then heads out the door.

He ends up staying on the line with you for the entire duration of his journey to be safe. Usually, downtown is just filled with nightlife and club hoppers. Still, it does have its shady areas like any other part of the city. Your job puts you at a greater risk of harm.

He’s never visited the Penthouse, but after hearing his colleagues talk about it, he’d sure like to someday. Maybe even get a lap dance or a private show from his favorite dancer—which would be you, of course.

Jimin’s not blind. Even those loose-fitting pants you wear can’t hide a nice ass.

You’re sculpted, that’s for sure, and pretty. Fuck, you’re so pretty.

He has to remind himself to be respectful constantly when you’re in his car. Mainly because he doesn’t want a slap in the face. He also prefers his women to be single and able to give him their undivided attention. The last thing he wants is to be in the middle of some drama.

You don’t even seem like the type to step out. No matter how much this woman has put you through, you’re still loyal to her when you could have so much more.

There are people out there who don’t mind your kind of work and would still respect you more than your girlfriend does. Hopefully, you’ll someday realize that and end that toxic relationship you’re currently in.

He can see how tired you are when he pulls up beside you, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. He doesn’t get the hype of being committed to someone when you’re not even happy. Is monogamy so vital that you lose yourself and your sense of happiness to meet society’s opinion of what is right?

It doesn’t seem worth it to him.

“Get in!” he yells while you’re standing outside of his car digging in your bag. “You’re getting soaked.”

You mention something about finding a jacket, so you don’t ruin his seats, and he waves you off.

“Babe, don't worry about my seats. Get in before you get struck by lightning or something,” he says with urgency.

The rain’s coming down pretty hard, and he needs to get off the road before it starts flooding.

“Sorry about that,” is the first thing you say when you enter the warmth of his luxury sports car.

“You’ve worked customer service your whole life, haven’t you?” Your reaction tells him he worded that completely wrong. “Uhh… I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I have to; that’s how I know,” he explains.

He feels relieved when you nod and relax in your seat. As he drives away from the curve, he continues.

“I only said that because you always apologize even though some things are out of your control. You have that common courtesy flowing through your veins. It’s an asset to have in our professions.”

Jimin steals a glance at you once the car stops at a red light, but you’re too busy scrolling through your phone to notice. The light from your screen illuminates your skin, and he can easily make out your puffy eyes and the redness on the tip of your nose.

“Rough night, huh?” he asks you, unsure of what else to say. He’s the worst at comforting people. That’s probably why he isn’t considered “boyfriend” material.

His only solution for a bad day is some nasty sex and his strongest bottle of alcohol.

You snap out of your trance once you hear him clear his throat. To his surprise, you were paying attention. He can see the bit of embarrassment behind your tight-lipped smile.

“My bad,” you whisper, putting away your phone. “Yeah, I’ve been working since I was sixteen. Dancing since I was twenty.”

“You must be exhausted,” he comments, and he hears a scoff.

“That’s one word I would use.”

A warm feeling forms inside of him when he hears your laugh. It’s very small, but it’s the first time he’s ever heard that sound come from you and the first genuine smile he’s ever seen on your face.

You’re pretty. “So fucking pretty,” he has to repeat to himself.

Jimin’s staring makes you shy, and he can only imagine what kind of look he has on his face. He scolds himself and makes an oath to keep his eyes on the road from this point on but still struggles to tear away.

“The light’s green,” you mention, shifting your focus to your hands. The ghost of your smile still lingers, but Jimin decides to let the moment fade away. He doesn’t want to make it weird, but the urge to tell you that you’re attractive is strong.

Quickly, he changes the topic before he goes too far.

“So, home or…?”

You shake your head.

“Would it inconvenience you to take me to the motel over on Jefferson? I know it’s out of the way, but—”

“Hell no!”

Jimin’s face contorts with disgust.

“No, that place is filthy. Why are you going there?” he asks, gripping the wheel tighter. His mind instantly goes to everything he’s heard about that place, and his eyes widen. “Wait. Are you…”

You give him the same shocked expression as he’d given to you.

“Oh god, no. I just need a cheap place to stay for tonight,” you assure him. Your voice is slightly raised and high-pitched. “I can’t be at my place when she comes home from work or whatever it is she’s doing. She knows you’re giving me a ride, and you know how that will go.”

“Well, let me take you somewhere nicer, at least. I’ll cover it.”

He tries to offer you a better hotel room at his expense, but it’s not a shock that you decline.

“Jimin, I appreciate you, really. But I don’t feel comfortable; it’s too much. I know you’re only being kind, but.…”

Jimin nods, understanding where you’re coming from.

“I get it.”

However, that still leaves an option he’s not satisfied with either. He can’t just drop you off at a place like that and leave you for the night. It’s like throwing you in a shark tank with an open wound. There’s got to be another way.

“You have heard about that place, though. Haven’t you?” he asks.

You’re gazing out of the window now, looking back at a restaurant as his car passes by it.

“Are you hungry?”

Shaking your head again, you speak to him as you transfer your attention to your phone.

“No, I was just checking something out…but yeah, I know. I don’t have any other options, though,” you shrug.

“Stay at my place,” he blurts out before he changes his mind. Thankfully, you don’t ask him to stop and let you out for his outburst. He jumps on the opportunity to reason with you before you can shut him down entirely. “...And before you say no, hear me out.”

You don’t say anything, so Jimin tries again.

“Please?”

You sigh heavily. “Okay, Jimin.”

He’s relieved, but he knows he still has to convince you before he allows himself to get too excited.

“I have a huge house with two extra bedrooms. One of them even has its own bath. It’s at the end of the hall, far away from my room,” he explains.

“Okay?”

“All I’m saying is you can go in there, lock the door, and come out whenever you’re ready. I promise I won’t bother you. Have I ever bothered you?”

Your fit of laughter catches him off guard again. He takes his eyes off the road momentarily to watch you giggle, but he’s also curious.

“What’s that?” he scoffs with a slightly lopsided grin. Your head shakes, and you turn towards the window again to his disappointment. “Come on…Tell me.”

When you look at Jimin, he can’t help but feel shy suddenly now that he has your undivided attention. Your presence impacts him differently now that you aren’t tucked away in his passenger seat, feeling down and miserable. He feels like you’re reading every thought that runs through his mind.

The intensity of your lingering gaze has him shifting in his seat.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” is what you say finally, and Jimin tries to keep his growing smile hidden.

“W-What?” he chuckles nervously.

“You’re cute, and sweet. The world needs more people like you, Jimin,” you elaborate.

Your words warm his heart but humble him at the same time. He doesn’t remember the last time he was put in the friend zone, probably because it’s never happened.

His elementary school teachers used to call him cute. Not one of the hottest women he’s ever laid eyes on.

The sting is manageable because he’s so fond of you and respects your opinions. It still doesn’t erase the slight bruising of his ego. But he can’t win them all, he figures.

He gives you a smirk to mask his conflicted feelings.

“Not everybody is cut out for this, babe. It’s not as easy as I make it look,” he replies.

Your giggles fill up the car for a moment before they are replaced by a heavy silence. You stare ahead for a while, and when he approaches the traffic light, the one that can lead to his home or to that shitty hotel—you finally respond to his question.

“If I come home with you, will you tell me a little more about your life?”

Jimin’s perplexed but not against it. He’s got nothing to hide.

“You don’t have to—”

“No, I don’t mind. I just don’t know why you wanna talk about me. I’m pretty boring,” he tells you.

He sees your head tilt out of his peripheral.

“Boring?... A nightclub owner driving a damn Ferrari?”

“That’s not fair,” he argues, whining.

“Well, you didn’t make sense just now.”

He nods. “I guess you’re right.”

“I know I am,” you conclude proudly, your smile growing wider.

After a few seconds, you speak again. “I’d just like to hear about you. You always listen to me go on and on. Isn’t there something you want to talk about?”

“Well…”

There isn’t really much to tell. He really has a simple life aside from the club and hooking up. Jimin grew up in a middle-class family, and when he turned 18, he moved out, got a job serving tables, and lived the party life instead of going to college. For his 21st birthday, he dropped four quarters in the slot machine and hit the jackpot on the first spin. It was sheer luck.

He got sevens across the board, so he decided to name his club after that number. They changed his life and opened a new world for him. Financially secure, he prefers tending to his business and getting laid. Occasionally, enjoying the fruit of his labor as a reward for his hard work. There really isn’t anything special about him.

“I just need a distraction, I guess,” you add.

Jimin nods his head as he turns onto the freeway. “That I can be,” he mumbles and proceeds to drive you both to his house.

The next four minutes are spent recalling short stories from his past—parties, wild sex that occasionally still happens, and everything else he could think of. But what truly intrigues you is his love for dance and how you share the same passion.

By the time you enter his home, he’s discovered that your backstory is quite similar to his. But instead of riches, the universe dealt you a bad hand. You left home and tried to chase your dreams but what you thought was love got in the way. That’s how you ended up in this situation; she was too important for you to just leave her behind.

What pisses him off is that she’s ungrateful and often accuses you of fucking him. You’ve made it clear to him from the jump that you’re committed to your relationship and have no plans on cheating, no matter how rough it gets. The woman doesn’t deserve you; that he knows for sure. Unfortunately, he’ll probably never get to tell her that to her face. And maybe that’s for the best.

“You’ve got a nice place.”

Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts. He turns around and finds you checking out his home with admiration in your irises. You’re impressed, and that fills his chest with a bit of pride.

“Thanks, love. Sorry about the boxes. I’m moving to another place, and I wanna take some things. If you want, I can show you to your room, or I can give you a tour,” he offers.

“A tour sounds fun, but is it okay if I shower? I’m tracking up your floor with my wet socks.”

Jimin looks at the floor and notices your sodden, dirty socks. He grimaces because they look cold and uncomfortable; he can only imagine how badly you want to get out of those things.

“Sorry, I’ll clean it. I left my sneakers outside to dry, but these are still soaking,” you add, and Jimin waves for you to follow him.

“No, I’m sorry for standing here like a dumbass. You must be freezing,” he says as he leads you to a guest bedroom. “It’s this one right here. I keep it stocked with towels and things, so help yourself to whatever. Do you need some more socks?”

You shake your head and thank him.

“No, I’m good. I keep everything I need in this thing, just in case.” You point to your bag with a smirk.

“Of course, you’re prepared,” he thinks to himself.

“But thank you. I really appreciate this.”

“Don’t mention it. I don’t mind at all,” he answers truthfully. “And if you’re bored or hungry, feel free to look in the fridge or watch tv…make yourself at home.”

“Jimin, you’re too sweet. I’ll have to pay you back someday,” you insist, but he refuses.

“That isn’t necessary. I’m just doing what I’d want someone to do for me if I was in the same situation,” he assures.

You nod as you step into the room, but you pause just before closing the door, making him freeze in place.

“Seriously, I feel like I owe you a lap dance or something, but if you insist….”

Jimin’s eyes widen as he scrambles to find his words. The door closes slowly, concealing the growing grin on your face that appears just when he attempts to change his mind.

“Hey,” he calls out, but it’s too late.

“Goodnight, Jimin.”

“But—”

And the door closes in his face.

He stands in his hallway alone, just blinking and staring at the closed door in disbelief. The way you just dropped that on him and bailed was down bad, but what can he say? That was smooth.

He laughs at himself for his reaction. He imagines he looked like an eager virgin perking up to your empty promises. However, he could care less because the idea does send a tingle down his shaft. The only thing softening the blow is knowing that you were joking and probably wouldn’t give him a lap dance if it were a cold day in hell.

He has to shake his head to get those thoughts out of his mind. You’re a forbidden fruit. He shouldn’t even think about you in that way. Though, some things are easier said than done.

Jimin heads towards his kitchen, but the sound of your voice stops him before he can get down the hall. You’re arguing and not just some petty confrontation. You sound hurt, furious, and genuinely exhausted. He feels terrible, but there isn’t much he can do. He’d offer to make it better, but that’d only last for tonight. If it were to happen at all.

Jimin’s not a hero; this isn’t his battle to fight. But at least you wouldn’t have to deal with bullshit if you and he were fucking around.

Making his way to the kitchen, he listens to your faint sobbing until it ultimately stops. He then starts prepping a late-night snack just in case you get hungry before the morning. Afterward, he pours himself a drink and sits on his couch, looking at the city view from his living room, enjoying the sound of the rain hitting his windows.

He pulls out his phone to check his messages and notices something that raises the hair on the back of his neck.

“Aw, shit. This can’t happen,” he whispers, opening his text messages.

10:21PM Friday Night: omw in a few babie

11:01PM Friday Night: open up. i’m in the parking lot.

Before he can think of a lie, his phone rings. As quickly as he tries to ignore it, there’s a knock on his door. He groans as he gets up and goes to see who it is. He already knows, but there’s still a tiny bit of hope that it’s someone with the wrong address.

However, when he swings it open, his fears are confirmed. His shoulders slump when he sighs.

“Leah,” he greets with much less enthusiasm than he usually has for one of the best slices of heaven he’s ever had.

“It’s Layla, asshole.”

Yeah, Layla. That’s it.

He’d only met her a few weeks ago, but the vibe was decent, so she’s become his Friday night entertainment. He’d forgotten he texted her earlier for some rainy night sex.

She invites herself in with a smile, ignoring his awkwardness and nervousness. He wants to tell her to leave, but she looks too damn good to resist.

He’s had a long week, and some pussy would do him just fine right now. Maybe if he can just explain to Layla that he has a guest, so she’ll have to keep it down, then she’ll understand. Or perhaps she won’t because she’s bold and would enjoy keeping someone up all night with her moaning.

Usually, he wouldn’t care either, but you don’t need that right now. You’ve probably already cried yourself to sleep.

“Shit, this floor is slippery. Don’t you know how to dry your feet?” Layla asks, placing her hand on her hip.

She looks around as if she knows something’s off, and Jimin can’t help but feel under pressure. Why are the women running him tonight? He’s got to get it together.

“I uhh—”

“Oh, never mind. I don’t think I want to know what this is,” she replies, face screwed in disgust.

He assures her that it is just water, but she doesn’t buy it.

“Jimin, if your other girl is into watersports, just say that. I don’t care,” she giggles, and Jimin immediately shakes his head.

“No, it’s not what you think—”

His words are cut short once again when your tiny voice calls out for him from the hallway. His eyes grow wider when Layla looks at him with a smirk.

“Ohh, she’s still here,” she points out. Her feet move faster than light across the living room, and Jimin has to jog to catch up with her. “I better go say hi.”

“Layla, just go to my bedroom. She’s just crashing here for tonight, and she’s not in the mood for—”

“Hello!” Layla walks right up to you with a huge smile and an extended hand, leaving him to stand behind her, looking like a deer in headlights. “I’m Layla. Jimin’s other girl. That dick is fire, isn’t it?”

Layla’s thumb points back at him as she speaks. The look on your face is enough to have Jimin intervening immediately.

“Layla, that’s enough. She’s a friend of mine, and you’re about to get your ass kicked out if you don’t leave her alone. Go to my room. I’ll be there in a minute,” he instructs, but she doesn’t budge.

Her long extensions flip swiftly as she whips her head in his direction.

“Jimin, can you go make us a drink or something while we have some girl talk?” she growls. “Why is she crying? Did you come fast or something?”

Jimin’s mouth opens and closes as he tries to respond, but no words come out.

“Why are you still standing here?” Layla asks again sharply.

He looks at you for clarity, and your red eyes silently tell him it’s okay. You also give him a small nod, prompting him to make his retreat to the kitchen.

“Layla, I’m trusting you,” he warns.

The woman scoffs. “Please, there’s no heartbreak I can’t cure. We’ll get her perked up in no time with some tequila.”

Jimin sure hopes she’s right; he never thought he’d ever say this, but you look horrible. Your body language tells the story of someone who could get no lower. He feels bad for not saying anything, but though Layla isn’t the best candidate for an empowerment speech, he feels as though she could deliver better than he can.

If anyone could convince you to let it go for one night, maybe it’s the minx herself. He knows alcohol isn’t a permanent solution, but it’ll at least make you feel good for a little while.

Jimin’s prepping a liquor, snacks, and chaser tray when you both enter the kitchen. He expects to see the same saddened expression across your face as before, but instead, a faint smile greets him as you sit on the bar stool.

“Can I have a shot right now, please?” you ask almost immediately, and his movements halt. He looks at Layla for answers, but she shrugs and sits beside you, requesting one for herself as well.

“Um…yeah, sure. Tequila good?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you sigh, propping your elbows on the counter and resting your chin on your hands. He pours you a shot glass full of Casamigos and continues grabbing things from his mini kitchen bar.

You throw it back graciously and hum as the alcohol tingles on your taste buds, blowing out air to cool the burning sensation it gives you. Layla takes hers after and wiggles her body as the liquid enters her system.

“Everything alright?” he checks, cutting up some limes. You nod before taking the bottle and pouring yourself another.

“Yeah, I’m done. I’m over it,” you respond, bringing the glass to your lips. You take your second dose of amber liquor and set the glass on the counter with a clink.

“Done, like…?”

Your eyes dart in his direction before they look at Layla, who’s busy digging in her purse. You turn back to him, moving your head side to side.

“However you define it, I guess,” is your reply. “I’m just going with the flow.”

“Matching her energy, huh?” Jimin proposes with a lifted eyebrow.

You smirk to yourself. “Some would say.”

“Well, I’m here for it.” Jimin grabs the liquor bottle and pours everyone another round. He raises his glass and says, “Tonight we’re going to celebrate…another free agent for me to—”

“Jimin, just drink the damn shot and sit the fuck down,” Layla chimes in, making you laugh.

He shakes his head at her sassiness. She knows she’s only getting away with it because it’s entertaining to you.

All three of you toast to whatever bullshit that flies out of his mouth. He’s too caught up in your bright smile again to register what he said. He’s glad you’re trying, but he already knows where this is going.

What’s fueling your positivity is scorn, bitterness, and a hunger for revenge. It isn’t a good combination, but he can’t bring himself to stop you. All he can promise is to keep you safe while you’re in the first stages of a messy breakup.

However, he’s got no idea where the night is about to lead you or the world of shit all three of you will be in once it’s over.

He grabs a paper towel, then a pen, and says, “Ay, before we get too drunk, we need to talk.”

Not knowing it’d do little to prepare him for the following series of events.

This is exactly what you needed.

A few shots and two pairs of smooth hands touching all over your body—caressing away all the stress and built-up tension of today.

If you close your eyes and allow yourself to drift away, maybe your problems disappear, and the faint presence of utopia will slowly creep into the horizon.

Sure, there’s a voice in your mind pleading for you to stop for a minute and think about this huge mistake you’re making. But ignoring it for once in your life feels good. You feel entitled to a good fuck up after everything that’s happened, or—just a good fuck.

You know it’s wrong. You know you should have packed your shit and gotten out of here the minute Layla showed up. But how could you?

How could you walk away when so much was going through your mind?

You're so lost, and you know that these two are your only outlet. You had already argued, cried your eyes out, and begged for a bit of trust and compassion from your partner. There’s nothing left for you other than not giving a damn anymore.

You were in so much pain that eventually, you just went numb. Call it shock or the early stages of heartbreak, but you need to feel something regardless of what it is. Anything other than what you’ve been feeling for the past five years.

The universe just took too long and sent you on too many trials for you to have taken another blow tonight. If you wanted the solace you craved, you had to reach out and take it.

You’re exhausted from doing everything to satisfy others. It’s about time you put your desires first while the opportunity sits beneath you. His eyes hazy and low, enjoying the warmth of your bare thighs pressed against his sides.

“Fuck, she’s purring and shit. I like that,” Jimin comments, mocking your sounds of pleasure. “So sexy. We should start calling her Kitty, huh?”

He smirks at you when Layla agrees.

Jimin’s hands wander all over your torso, and his eyes follow them without a blink, eager to get the tiniest glimpse of some skin.

Soft lips trace the shell of your, making you shiver and squirm in his lap, sparking an urge to grind your center against Jimin’s thighs. Tonight, there are no boundaries, so you don’t deny yourself anything you want, and the man below you appears to be supportive of your decision.

“Be careful,” Layla whispers in your ear. “You might make him come in his pants.”

Jimin laughs. “She’s not lying.”

Your head lolls back on her shoulder, opening your mouth to receive more of the vodka-infused whipped cream Jimin brought to the living room. The fluffy substance enters your mouth, and the sweet vanilla alcoholic taste tingles your taste buds.

She turns it to Jimin, who shakes his head.

“Tapping out already?” she asks him.

Never taking his eyes off you, he says, “You know mocha’s my favorite.”

Mumbling words you can’t even register due to the concentration you have put into grinding on Jimin’s lap, she switches cans and feeds him a mouthful of mocha-flavored cream. He consumes it in one gulp, producing a small moan and leaving a little bit behind on the side of his lip and cheek.

His thumb comes up to wipe it off, but you grab his wrist just in time and flatten your tongue against his skin in its place.

The closeness feels better than you expected, and your hands move to tangle in his messy hair, using the grip to pull yourself further onto his lap. He grabs your waist, not wanting to lose momentum, and buries his face within your bosom.

Jimin’s tongue scours over every inch of skin he can access, stimulating you more and more with the silver ball of his piercing. He chuckles because he knows you feel it.

“I can show you what all I can do with it if you want me to, Kitty,” he murmurs, his face nestled into the valley of your breasts.

“You should let him,” Layla chimes in. “He’s nasty as fuck.”

You agree with a hum. “I can believe it.”

Jimin smiles and moves his hands down your body to give your ass a squeeze. Your lips meet for a gentle kiss, exchanging the different flavors of alcohol you consumed before parting and delicately grazing the smooth textured ridges along the skin.

“So, you down?” he tries again.

The playlist switches to one of your favorite songs, momentarily taking you away. Your body moves on its own as your mind absorbs the sultry classic playing through the speakers. You feel Jimin’s fingers digging into your barely covered cheeks as he tries to create a little more friction between you.

Your crotches collide and roll against each other as he joins you in sinful movements that turn into the both of you chasing a carnal desire growing deep within you.

“I used to be scared of the dick. Now I throw lips to the shit,” you mumble the lyrics against his lips, earning a smile from him. He seems to be in awe of you behaving so wildly and carefree. Your hair in disarray, eyes glossed over with lust and the intoxicating glow of alcohol on your skin while you sway with the beat.

Tell me what's on your mind when your tongue’s in the pussy…

The chemistry between you grows, but your head is pulled back roughly by your hair before you can go too far with the agenda you and Jimin silently set.

“Answer him,” Layla’s voice travels through your ear, snapping you out of your trance.

You look between them as her neck cranes from beside you. You’ve already gone this far; you don’t know why they’d think you weren’t going to finish this.

Whatever Jimin’s plan is, you’d like to see it, but you don’t want them thinking the ball’s in their court. Tonight, you’re in charge, and they are the clueless players in your little game of get back.

“Sure,” you purr and grab them both by their shirts. You hear the soft whimper from Layla’s throat erupt and smirk at the reaction. She already has an idea of how this will go, and she’s right to trust her instinct. “But once you’re done….”

Your smile widens at Jimin’s perplexed expression, and you give him a wink.

“It’s my turn to play with him,” you say to Layla.

Her nude shaded lips curve into a smile.

“He’s all yours, Kitty. Slut him out.”

Layla wasn’t lying; Jimin is a freak.

He’s got you sprawled out on his kitchen island, naked from head to toe with tequila threatening to spill from your belly button with each tiny stroke of Layla’s fingertips. You giggle but keep your core tight, thanking all of your years of dancing for your ability to endure the torturous acts.

“Are you even tickling her?” Jimin whines to Layla, who gives him a shrug.

“She’s good,” she replies, still trying to get you to shake hard enough to spill the liquor so Jimin can win his little silly bet. If you spill it, you’re the bottom, and if you succeed, you take the lead.

You’re confident, so the bet doesn’t deter you at all. Layla wanted no parts in whatever this is; she submitted willingly, but you don’t give in easily…you don’t give in at all.

He’ll have to earn that position if he wants it.

“Forty seconds Jimin,” you remind him of his lack of time for chit-chat. He thinks hard for a moment, and Layla whispers something in his ear. He hops on the counter, and you figure she’s given him a different strategy to try.

He hovers over you and uses his lips to trace your bikini line. It’s enough to make your body shiver, but you remain as still as possible so that the liquor doesn’t spill. That’s a sensitive spot for you, so you half moan his name when his teeth slightly graze your skin.

“Jimin, wait—”

The timer goes off just in time, and the victory is yours to claim. You clap your hands triumphantly, chanting over Jimin’s grunts and groans.

“Ha-ha! I won. Yes!”

Jimin rolls his eyes and raises his head, unable to hold back his smile.

“Whatever, cheater,” he mumbles before slurping the golden liquor from your navel.

He chuckles when you squeak and tells Layla to give him another shot.

“Ohh, I found something she likes. Pour us another shot, sweetheart.”

They both take turns drinking from your body, making you squirm and giggle. Not an inch of your body is left unscathed by their greedy tongues by the time they’re done. You sit up when the moment presents itself and motion for Jimin to come closer with your finger.

“I haven’t forgotten,” you remind him, and he nods with a grin. “Get on the fucking table.”

You switch positions, so now Jimin is the one on his back. You look at Layla and ask her to take off his pants while you grab the can of Whipped Shots from the counter.

“Take your shirt off, if you aren’t shy.” You both give each other a smirk and Jimin proceeds to pull the fabric over his head.

“You can take the underwear too, babe. I’m not shy at all,” he tells Layla. She hums and slides down his boxers too, revealing a semi hard cock that’s thick and lengthy.

Your mouth salivates but you'll wait for your turn when it’s fully prepared. Instead, you instruct Layla to get it ready for you.

“Suck his dick and make his toes curl, okay?”

She nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

Without another word, she gets to work and so do you. Starting a dotted trail of whipped cream up the center of his abdomen, you pause at his chest to touch the horseshoe shaped piercing on his left nipple.

“See something you like, Kitty?” Jimin muses.

“This is cute.” You toy with it for a moment before squirting some of the cold white fluffiness over his areola. You do the same to the other with a wink. “Can’t forget about this one, huh?”

Setting the can aside, you immediately begin to devour the whipped cream from his torso. You pause here and there to admire the large, gray-shaded Phoenix that covers his entire right side from his pelvis to his chest.

It’s as hot as the spiritual quote crawling down his spine. You want to explore his artwork but there isn’t time for that now.

You tongue swirls around his pierced nipple, licking him clean of the sticky mess you’ve created. You hear a hiss when your teeth gently nibble on the metal impaled flesh before sucking it between your lips.

“Fuck.” Jimin’s sharp whispers cut through the sounds of slurping and smacking, bringing your attention to the woman kneeling between his legs.

Layla gives the tip of his cock small kitten licks and she collects a generous amount of precum on her taste buds. She uses it for lubrication as she lowers her head and begins to take him within the depths of her warm mouth.

Jimin’s teeth clench to bite back his moan but you’re already in his ear, finger swirling around his stiffened nipple, encouraging him to let it out.

“She feels good, doesn’t she?” He nods his head, making you grin and look down at the rise and fall of his chest. His hands are in fists and his abs tense and contort with pleasure. His watery eyes stare back at you begging for more to increase his pleasure. “If you want more you have to ask nicely, baby.”

Your head drops to the crook of his neck where you begin to claim areas of his already reddened flesh. You grab his hair to pull his head away from you, granting you more access to his jawline and his clavicle. His plush lips form an O-shape and he freezes as he tries to get words out.

“G–God, I knew you’d make me suffer,” he groans. “But I’m not too proud to beg.”

You chuckle and reluctantly abandon his soft skin to make your way back down his body. His back arches as you get to his midsection and leave more of your marks over his chiseled abs. He doesn’t know what to focus on, the attention you’re giving to his body or the head he’s getting from Layla.

Once you reach his pelvis area, you and her lock eyes as she’s going down on him. Something takes over you when you see her technique and you snap without warning.

You snatch her up by her ponytail, surprising her momentarily in her lustful state.

“Is that how you suck dick?” you ask, gripping her strands. “Hm?”

“No, ma’am.”

You scoff. “So, why are you acting like a scared little bitch? Look at this pretty fucking cock.”

You order her to stare at Jimin’s length as it sits proud and at attention, using your grip to hover her lips directly over it. Your other hand holds it firmly and starts to move up and down absentmindedly as he moans and curses from your touch.

“You mean to tell me that you aren’t willing to choke on this?...this thick, juicy cock?” you ask her, and she nods.

“I am. I want to,” she responds but she’s going to have to prove it.

“Well, I don’t believe it.” You guide her closer until her lips meet the tip and his seeping seed touches her skin. “Open your mouth and eat that dick up. I know you can do better than that.”

She opens and allows you to push her head down on Jimin’s cock, breathing through her nose like you’re telling her. She gags around him when he reaches the back of her throat but doesn’t tap out; she wants to keep going and show you what she’s made of.

“That’s it. Make him blow his load in that pretty mouth, don’t be shy,” you purr in her ear.

You allow her to come up for air but it’s right back to work when she’s good. Your strength allows you to move her head up and down at your pace. The grip on her hair keeps her in your grasp.

Her spit drips all over his shaft, making it wet and messy, creating the filthiest sounds you could ever hear. You busy yourself with littering Jimin’s lower abdomen with your endless love bites, making him buck off the counter into Layla’s warm mouth.

“Oh, fuck!” Jimin all but yells and your head snaps in his direction.

“You like that, huh?” You speed up her movements and she begins to moan and rub her thighs together. You let her know that it’s okay to play with her pussy since she’s been an absolute doll for you and Jimin can barely keep himself together at the sight before him. “You love some messy head by a pretty bitch, don’t you?”

He nods frantically. “Yes, fuck!”

“You want her to swallow you up until you come down her tight little throat, huh?” you ask him and once again he agrees.

“Please, I’m so fucking close,” he begs, and you let out a cackle.

While you halt Layla’s movements, you pretend to ponder, but keep her lips over his pulsing tip as she suckles on it while she gives you her attention.

“What do you think about that, baby?” you quiz, smoothing her messy hair back and out of her way. “Can Jimin fill you up with his yummy cum?”

She hums around him, sending vibrations down his length and making him squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to hold his orgasm. You smirk at their reactions.

“And you’ll swallow it all?”

“Mhm,” she replies.

“Just like a little slut, huh?” You look at Jimin and wink. “A nasty little bitch, isn’t she?”

“She’s never done it like this before, Kitty,” he grunts, clenching his teeth. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

You laugh at that.

“Oh, I know what it is…” You look down at Layla and shake your head. “She just needed a little…guidance.”

“Kitty, am I going to have to beg?” Jimin asks suddenly, making you giggle.

“Not right now,” you answer. “Let Jimin fill you up, babe.”

Jimin wastes no time after getting permission and ploys himself into Layla’s throat, feeding her his cum and making her gag around his dick. You take it out of her mouth and slap it all over her face, smearing his arousal and spit cover length over her makeup.

Her body starts to tremble, and you realize she’s chasing her high without your approval, making you mildly displeased with her behavior.

You snatch her up quickly, drawing a shriek from her lips.

“I don’t think I gave you permission to come. Did I, Layla?”

She shakes her head best she can with the tight grip applied to her sewn in strands.

“No, ma’am. You didn’t,” she answers.

You tsk. “But you did it anyway?...Bad, bad girl.”

Your other hand moves between her thigh, delivering four quick slaps to her sensitive clit. She winces as her legs tremble, threatening to fail her at any second.

“Take your clothes off and sit on Jimin’s face… Let him clean you up,” you mumble.

While she disrobes, you straddle Jimin’s thighs in a squatting position, spreading wide so he can see your wet pussy. His lust drunk eyes can’t look away as you start running your fingers up and down, parting your glistening folds.

“Fuck, you look hot. Can I touch myself too?” he asks, and you grant him permission.

“Not too fast. I need you to last a little bit longer this time,” you explain.

Jimin hisses once his hand wraps around his cock and he bites his lip to cope with the sensitivity. He makes slow languid strokes at the same pace as you, looking at the site of you pleasuring yourself in awe.

Only when Layla appears do you both realize you’ve been staring for too long and instantly bring your attention to anything but each other so you don’t get too caught up.

“What are you waiting for?” you quiz, and she springs into action. She hovers over him with her rear facing you like you asked and lowers herself on Jimin’s soft lips.

“Oh, shit. Jimin…”

Jimin immediately latches on to her throbbing bundle of nerves. He uses the hand not occupying his hardening cock to hold her in place. Eventually, locking her in with his strong arm.

After a few minutes, you shift gears, dropping to your knees so you can have a seat on his torso. Before you drop completely, you slide his hand from beneath you so he can use that arm to restrain Layla and you place the girth of his shaft in the palm of your hand.

You run your finger over his slit and swirl his precum over the head. You can feel him pulsing in your hand; he’s hot to the touch and eager to feel whatever is yet to come.

Layla’s moaning becomes louder, indicating she’s slipping further out of sensitivity and closer to the pleasure she seeks. You join the chase and gently drop yourself on Jimin’s stomach, wanting to feel some friction against your leaking core.

Using the slopes of his abs, you glide across the expanse of his tummy, clenching each time he flexes beneath you.

Once Jimin’s dick is hard enough to stand on its own, your hand abandons it and your attention shifts to Layla. You grab her hair and her head snaps backward, creating a defined arch in the center of her back.

“Why are you acting so shy now, hm?... Rub that pretty pussy in his face, girl,” you chuckle in her ear.

“But…Oh, fuck!”

“Still sensitive?”

You reach in front of her, pinching her clit. She nods her head as if you’d give her any sympathy but all you do is slap her tit and instruct her to keep going. “It's too bad I don’t care... Get to work, slut.”

Layla squeezes her eyes shut and tries her best to deal with the sensitivity. Your hand slides up her chest and wraps around her throat so you can tighten your digits around her neck, keeping her close to you so you can touch and grope as you please. Her eyes begin to open and roll back when she gets used to the feeling between her thighs.

Jimin’s cock taps your ass as you slide back and forth, reminding you of his needs, so you raise your hips and guide yourself over the thick and seeping head. Your wetness allows you to descend easily and your moans immediately begin to fill Layla’s ear.

“This dick is good. I see why you’re so crazy about him,” you mention, already bouncing on his throbbing shaft. His girth stretches you and fills you to the brim, giving you the fullness you’ve been craving since he whipped it out of his pants.

You can hear his cries of pleasure as he murmurs them against Layla’s cunt and her body shudders from the vibrations traveling to her core.

Both of you ride Jimin like he’s his fancy Ferrari parked outside, having your way with his body as he lies there in bliss below you.

Caught in the moment, you can’t help but admire the softness of Layla’s ass and your palm kneads the flesh.

As the pace quickens, your touch becomes rougher and you encourage her to move faster by slapping the delicate skin until it’s tender and red. The noises she makes tell you that she’s enjoying the feeling and you can’t stop yourself from teasing and taunting her with more.

“You’re freaky too, huh?... What else would you let me do, hm?”

Your middle finger slips between her globes and travels to her rim, making her eyes snap open. “Fuck,” she cries, and you smirk because you know it’s her weakness.

“Such a nasty girl, wanting my fingers buried in her ass. Aren’t you ashamed?” you giggle innocently, but your intentions are anything but.

“Please…”

“Please what, sweetie? Tell me. Jimin isn’t enough for you tonight? You want my fingers, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she admits, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. “I need—”

“You need me?... That isn’t a surprise,” you chuckle, finger circling her quivering hole until she’s attempting to push herself back on it. “But unfortunately, I’m all booked for tonight.”

The denial leaves her feelings hurt and disappointed, but you aren’t evil. You’ll let her reach her high one more time, but she’ll have to do it herself.

“Go play with yourself over there and let me show you how to be a whore.”

Layla freezes as your limbs unravel from around her and Jimin seems caught off guard too. However, Layla still obeys and does as she’s told.

“W-Wait. Hold on,” Jimin stammers. “What’s happening?”

He tries to sit up, but you push him back down gently with your palm, pinning him there so you can continue to ride him.

“You don’t get both right now. It’s her…” You point at the woman shifting on the bar stool spreading her legs so you and Jimin can watch her rub her cunt until she comes. “Or me.”

You clench around him purposely and his answer appears out of nowhere.

“Uhh, sorry Layla. Next round, okay?” However, she’s too caught up shoving her fingers in her pussy to reply.

You plant your feet on the cold surface of the counter and proceed to enjoy yourself with Jimin’s cock. Your tits bounce freely with your movements.

Jimin’s eyes don’t know where to look. They switch between staring at your tits and how your pussy is taking in his dick, orbs glistening in the bright kitchen light.

“Fuck, Kitty,” he moans, voice dripping with lust. “You’re so wet, so tight. I don’t think I can last much longer.”

You shake your head as you conjure up your words. “Me either. It feels so good.”

“What, this?”

He thrusts into you from below, nearly knocking you off your feet. You place your hands behind you on the counter to keep yourself up and allow Jimin to fuck you in this position.

“Jimin, I’m—”

“Coming, Kitty!”

Jimin beats you to the punch and you swiftly get off of him and replace his cock with your fingers. Still squatting over him, your digits work until you draw an intense orgasm out of yourself, sending your juices squirting out on Jimin’s stomach.

His cock dispenses loads of his seed, mixing with your arousal and coating his abs. You hear Layla’s sounds of pleasure as well, indicating she’s also reached her peak and allowed her orgasm to burst through the seams.

You tell her to join you on the counter again, so you can lick the mess off Jimin’s body.

“Girls, you don’t have to—”

“Hush!” Layla tells him and he shuts up immediately.

You grab her phone and you both take turns filming each other cleaning and taking more shots from Jimin’s belly.

He lays there smirking, feeling like a king in the hands of two beautiful women.

“Fuck, both of you are hot,” he comments. “I’m spent.”

“You’re done?” you ask him with a puzzled face.

Jimin laughs hesitantly. “You want another round?”

You and Layla look at each other and then back at him.

“I mean…you can go to bed if you want,” she suggests and Jimin sits up immediately.

“Nope. I’m good, I’ve let you both run this show for too long…Who’s first for backshot?”

All of you hop off the counter and make your way to his room.

“Um, that would be me,” you speak up with a raised hand.

When you approach the bedroom door, you turn to Layla and whisper drunken words to her.

“I hope you’re having fun because I sure am.”

When morning arrived, so did the pounding and intense headache that you could barely stand. With shaky legs you made your way to Jimin’s living room, where your mind began to replay the blurry events from last night.

The longer you sit on his couch, face buried in your palms, the clearer it all becomes, and regret slowly creeps up from the box you figuratively stuff it in. So does your shame and rational thinking.

You didn’t just fuck up. You fucked it all up.

You embarked on a downward spiral that led you to the only destination that route can take you.

Revenge is sweet but the crash that follows isn’t worth the temptation. You wish that you’d taken that into consideration last night.

Your phone pings and pings with hundreds of messages—from her, social media, your boss. Everyone’s seen them and has had their say by the time you’re aware of their existence. The lump in your throat swells with each comment you read.

What was meant to be your little moment of selfishly claimed happiness, was taken and flipped to make you out to be a monster. A low down, cheating girlfriend who craves attention from men when she’s supposed to be in a committed relationship with a woman.

The caption reads, “Did she ever love me?”

Sad part about that is, you did. You gave her so much love until the tank ran empty. All that was left was the small amount of self-love you had remaining. Last night you had a choice—give it to her or keep it for yourself.

And so, for the first time in a long time you did what you wanted to do. Unfortunately for you, it came with many consequences.

You won’t feel bad about it, though. You’re sure no one else does. Only a small part of you wonders why the universe can be so cruel. How is it that this person can put you through so much and get away with it but the moment you break the rules punishment is waiting around the corner.

By now, you’ve given up on what’s right or what is wrong. Both sides haven’t been kind to you, so you figure there’s no point in trying to differentiate the two. You'll be fine if you can just get through the rest of your life without another shitty relationship.

So lost in thought, you almost forget where you are.

Jimin’s fuzzy slippers drag across the floor as he appears from the hallway. You part your fingers slightly to take a peek and find him wearing nothing but a robe and his boxers, abs littered with the trail of dark blooms as evidence of last night’s festivities.

He mentions something about Layla being gone already and comes into the living room to join you. You don’t say a word until he speaks.

“So,” he plops down on the couch beside you, blowing out a puff of air as he does, “how’s it going?”

Pulling away from your hands, you turn in his direction to look at him.

“I lost my mind, my girlfriend, and my job in one night. What about you?”

Jimin huffs a fake laugh briefly before answering.

“Aw, it can’t be that bad, huh?”

Both of you stare at each other for a moment before he finally realizes you aren’t joking.

“Oh, shit,” is what he replies when it all dawns upon him. “What the fuck did we do last night?”

You grab your phone and open your Instagram app, clicking on the user’s story from the previous night. You hand it over to Jimin who immediately recognizes the trio and looks on with wide eyes.

“I’m ruined,” you comment.

Jimin finally tears his eyes away after some minutes and looks at you.

“Why is it still up? You should just delete it,” he suggests.

“That isn’t on my account, Jimin.”

“Well, it mentioned something about a breakup, so I assumed…” His face is etched with confusion as he takes another look at the profile. His brows gradually raise at the hundreds of photos posted by a familiar face.

“Layla?” he calls out, mostly to himself.

You hum as you straighten your posture. Jimin is still utterly lost but that isn’t a surprise.

“Why would she...Fuck, I’m sorry. I’ll call her right now. I don’t know why she would do that. She’s not like that,” he tries to assure you, but you already know better.

“Because she’s a bitch and she’s definitely like that. She’s been planning this,” you inform, and you can see the wheels in his head turning, trying to search for the missing piece he’s sure is there.

“Babe, I’m still swimming in tequila, can you please fill me in. Why does my Friday night care about what you and your girl have going on?”

He cards a hand through his hair and lies back on the couch as if that’ll make the throbbing in his head disappear. However, your next statement is sure to leave it spinning.

“Because your Friday night is my girl, smartass.”

Jimin jolts up faster than you’ve ever seen anyone move.

“You’re lying. Tell me you’re fucking kidding,” he begs, fists full of his strands.

You snatch your phone from his lap and switch from Instagram to your photos. You allow him to see everything, pictures, videos, nudes…your private sex tapes. As much of your five-year long relationship he can absorb before he’s had enough.

Jimin stares ahead, unsure of what to say. You know the look of regret when you see it, so you save him the challenge of issuing the proper apology. You understand that sometimes remorse is hard to put in words.

“It’s okay, Jimin. You’re good. You didn’t know,” you tell him, rubbing his back with soothing circles. You feel horrible because he was dragged into this by the both of you.

Layla thought she was getting even by sleeping with him despite hating his guts and all you wanted to do was use him as a pawn. He didn’t deserve any of that and it’s probably why your plan backfired.

Jimin’s such a good person. You and Layla never deserved to have him enter your lives.

“So, let me get this straight because this is the only logical, if I can even say that, explanation I have for this.” He turns to you, and you have enough respect for him to look him in the eyes while he speaks.

“Layla is your girlfriend?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

“And she threw herself at me a few weeks ago so she could fuck me to get back at you, who she thought was fucking me?”

Once again, you nod your head.

“Mhm.”

His brows knit together as he pieces together the rest and when he does, he continues.

“And last night when she came here you didn’t leave because you wanted to get her back?” he questions, and you agree. “So, you just used me to teach her a lesson?”

“Jimin, I’m sorry—”

“That’s so fucking hot,” he commends, catching you off guard.

You blink and look around the room as if he could be speaking to someone else. “What?”

“I underestimated you. I mean…you’re like a silent assassin or some shit. That was insane.”

Jimin goes on and on about how impressed he is and how Layla got what she deserved and it kind of cheers you up a bit. You’re grateful for his sportsmanship and his support. However, when the moment fades and silence falls the reality sets in. You realize that everything is not all good.

“Yeah, I’m still out of a job, though. That club’s pretty strict, we can’t have sex tapes going around. According to our manager, it ‘takes away our value’ or whatever…”

Jimin hums but doesn’t say anything. However, you know there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m not going to be your sugar baby, Jimin. So before you go there—”

“I wasn’t going to…! I swear!” he promises, holding up his hands. “I did have a proposition, though?”

“Dude, I literally just got dumped, exposed, and fired. I know that look. I swear if it’s wild I’ll punch you,” you threaten him.

“Alright, I get it. No violence, woman.” He laughs but then his expression turns serious. “You’re a great actress, you know that?”

“How else would I make money?” you quip.

“But it’s not good to bury those emotions. Eventually they’ll bubble to the surface,” he continues.

You frown. “What are you hinting at, Jimin?”

“Would it be safe to say that you’re my friend?” he asks you.

He’s your only friend. You don’t know why it wouldn’t be safe.

“Yeah, of course.”

Jimin hums as he ponders over his words. “And friends…help each other?”

“They do,” you sigh.

“Well, what if you helped me? Would you let me help you–ow!”

“Jimin, I told you—”

“I was just going to offer you a job at another spot I’m opening,” he whines, clutching the arm you jabbed.

Oh.

“Well, you were beating around the bush.” Your arms fold but eventually your hand reaches out to caress his arm. You barely touched him, but he acts as if you’ve broken a bone.

“What is it? Another nightclub?”

He nods. “Yeah, but I’d like to have bottle girls and other entertainment. There will be bouncers and security but if something were to go down, I think they’d feel more comfortable giving a statement to another woman instead of huge scary guys, you know?”

That is true. At the Penthouse, you’d have to tell bouncers or your male manager how some creep tried to touch you, making you feel even more uncomfortable. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to other than your equally gross manager and the cold bouncers who were just there for their checks.

“So, you want that person to be me?” you ask him.

“Yeah. There will be other job duties, of course. That’ll keep you busy throughout the week, but it won’t be too stressful and I’m always here to help.”

He stares at you with puppy eyes, trying to charm you and you can’t help but smile as you look away.

“So, what do you say?”

“Jimin, I would. I really would because I need the money. I don’t have a car, or a home now that I’ve been kicked out,” you admit with a small scoff. “I need those things before even considering accepting a job.”

However, Jimin is a quick thinker and isn’t letting up so easily.

“Then rent this place.” He gestures around to his current home before shrugging his shoulders. “I haven’t put it on the market yet.”

“I can’t afford this place—”

“You can at the rate I’m going to pay you. My businesses are picking up, babe. I need help. I need people. Hustlers, like you.” The more Jimin runs his mouth, the more convinced you become. He’s definitely a businessman because he makes everything sound promising. “Besides, I know another way we both can profit off of this…scandal. And the only way we can pull it off is if we keep in touch.”

You look over at him with squinted eyes.

“You’re the devil on my shoulder,” you tell him.

“An angel, actually.”

“Same thing,” you retort.

Eventually, the banter ends with a long sigh, and he finally lays it all on the table.

“Give me an hour to call my attorney. I’ll ask him to type up a contract and we can negotiate on what stays and what goes. If we can agree on the terms, we sign it and go from there,” he states.

“Why do I feel like there is more to this than becoming your tenant and working at your club? What are you up to?”

Jimin smirks, slinging his arm over the couch behind your head. He leans closer and whispers in your ear as if he’s telling his biggest secret. What he begins to tell you is wild, unbelievable, but surprisingly one of the best ideas you’ve heard.

“Ever heard of OnlyFans?” he asks you.

Two years later...

The clinking plates and silverware are the only thing you can focus on in the dimly lit restaurant. You’ve always hated public places, so becoming a stripper is still something you cannot believe you pulled off.

12: 23 PM Jimin: you good? i’m right outside if you need me.

Nervousness resided within you early on while you were waiting alone. The anxiety fade when the same woman you looked in the eyes nearly two years ago sits across from you.

You realize she’s the same as before; nothing has really changed but her appearance. Her eyes still hold no remorse for what she did. She only regrets how she wasn’t able to have the upper hand in the end.

Her jealousy and selfishness still linger in her aura, and you’re reminded of what drove you away. You aren’t just good. You’re great.

“Hi,” she says as soon as she’s situated in the booth.

“Hi, Layla,” you respond, setting your phone on the table before taking a sip of water. “How’ve you been?”

“Fine. What do you want?”

You aren’t fazed by the rudeness in her tone. You glance at her as you dig in your purse. You pull out the velvet box and set it between you, confusing your ex-girlfriend with its appearance.

“And what is that?” she asks bluntly, not even reaching out for it.

You look at the box and then back at her. “Open it.”

She grabs it on your command and lifts the top, eyes displaying a small glint when the diamond-encrusted ring appears. You shake your head at the scowl she gives you.

“I’m not about to clear up any rumors about those videos. You can save the bribery. I can’t be bought like you,” she spits out.

It doesn’t create the sting she was hoping for. It only makes you chuckle at her bitterness.

“You did nothing but make my life easier. Why would I ask you to reverse it? You think I care how people feel about my career?”

She scoffs at the mention of your “career,” but you ignore her and continue.

“I just wanted to give you that because it’s yours. I have no use for it.”

“And what would I do with it? I don’t want it,” she argues.

“I don’t care what you do with it. Pawn it, throw it away…doesn’t matter. All I know is that I bought it for you, so it’s yours.”

Layla drops the small box on the table and leans closer to you, narrowing her eyes as if you’ve actually done her something.

“Why would I want anything you bought with money you earned while laying on your back?” she grits.

Your head shakes from side to side slowly, thinking about how she still doesn’t see how much you cared after everything.

“You know I tried with you, Layla. I gave you my all.” You shoot Jimin a quick text, letting him know you’ll be outside in a minute before finishing. “I bought you that ring nearly two years ago in the pouring fucking rain. I worked my ass off for it and still barely had enough.”

The thick tears finally begin to pour, and your mind travels back to what Jimin told you about burying your emotions. You never doubted that they’d force their way out. You just didn’t know when.

“I earned it by cleaning that nasty strip club floor every night after work because I knew you hated stripper money. I wanted your ring. Your engagement ring…to be special, something you could be proud of.”

Her features remain hardened, but you, of all people, know it’s a mask. She was broken long before your relationship ended, and instead of allowing you in to help her, she pushed you away.

“Imagine how I felt passing the restaurant you worked at and not seeing your car after you told me you couldn’t pick me up because you were working late. Or seeing you stroll inside the man’s house you accused me of cheating on you with not to confront me but to admit to me that you’re fucking him behind my back,” you continue.

You don’t even care about the few pairs of eyes on you. This needs to be said so you can move on.

“Or imagine, waking up to an internet full of people telling you that you’re the bad guy because you were tired of doing right by someone who never appreciated you. That’s how I hit rock bottom, Layla. And you were nowhere to be found.”

“You never needed me,” she comments.

“No, I didn’t!” Your fist slams on the table, rattling it and startling some guests. “But I wanted you, and I wanted you to love me like I loved you.”

Her expression finally loses its tension, and her features begin to droop. She stares blankly into space, allowing the air to settle around you.

“You weren’t fucking him, were you?” her small voice asks.

You give her a pitiful look. You can’t help but feel bad for her because, just like you, she hasn’t had it easy. However, you never lost sight of being a good person like her, which was her biggest downfall.

A warm feeling creeps up your body as you dry your eyes with a small napkin, thinking of the man she just mentioned. “I am now,” you confirm.

Slinging your purse on your shoulder, you place a hundred dollar bill in the center of the table.

“You’re leaving?” she asks, and you let her know you have to prepare for a baecation with Jimin. She looks shocked by your statement. “So, you and Jimin…your relationship isn’t fake?”

You get up from your seat and give her a pat on her shoulder before you depart.

“Layla,” you sigh. “I think you should stop jumping to conclusions so much, babe.”

“I’m sorry,” she admits, and all you can do is offer a sympathetic smile.

“Use that ho money and order you some lunch. And take that ring so you can pay those legal fees for not making rent after you kicked me out,” you say to her and proceed to walk away.

However, you almost forget about the apology she’d given you and turn around to tell her one more thing.

“Also, here’s to your apology. Don’t choke on it like you were choking on Jimin’s dick,” you shout, giving her the finger.

You find Jimin waiting at the door, trying to persuade security not to escort you out. He looks at you with wide eyes when you approach him.

“Are you crazy?” he laughs nervously, silently praying that he isn’t banned from his favorite restaurant.

“A little bit. But I always wanted to do that,” you giggle as his arm slips around your waist to move you to the other side of him.

“Are you okay?”

You answer with a nod and begin to walk with him down the street to the parking garage, getting all those “cute couple” stares from random people.

Becoming a fake couple just to sell content on OnlyFans is something you never imagined doing. Still, Jimin and his persuasiveness wore you down. However, it proved to be one of the best decisions you ever made. Subscribers sometimes pay just to watch you make Jimin dinner.

All you have to do is show him affection and love while you’re doing it. These days, however. No acting is required. Fake dating was fun while it was fresh, but being Jimin’s actual girlfriend is much better.

Small conversations continue as you step onto the garage’s elevator. No one is around to hop on with you, so Jimin closes the door and punches floor seven with his knuckle. Not even three seconds go by before the lights flicker, and it stops, indicating some sort of malfunction or outage.

Jimin’s short temper gets the best of him only moments after, and he grabs his hair with a slight bit of frustration.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jimin states while he looks around as if the answers lie within the walls. However, he finds nothing to determine the cause.

“Didn’t I say let’s take the stairs?” You chuckle, watching him pace back and forth.

He looks at you like you’ve just cursed him.

“I wasn’t about to climb the stairs in these,” he cries, pointing at his shoes.

Your eyes roll.

“Jimin, you’re wearing Crocs.”

“That’s the point! They aren’t made for climbing stairs,” he explains with a high-pitched voice.

“You’re being dramatic,” you sing.

“And you’re being mean.”

His fake pouting amuses you as he walks over to the call buttons, pressing random floor numbers to see if anything will happen. He finally gives up when it proves to be no avail and goes for the emergency call button.

“Wait!” You stop him just as his finger hovers over it, and he pauses momentarily to turn around and answer you.

He hums, eyebrow lifting with interest because the growing smirk is evident on your face.

“We aren’t in a rush, are we?”

Jimin shrugs. “Not really, I guess.”

He returns to his place in front of you and folds his arms over his chest.

“I thought you wanted to play around before work, though. We probably won’t have time now—”

“Let’s do it here,” you suggest. Jimin’s widened eyes make you giggle. “If you’re down with it. I know we’ve never done it in public before.”

Suddenly, you begin to feel shy, and you try to retract your idea.

“Or maybe we can just do it another time.…”

You look away, but the tip of his finger turns your head gently, shifting your focus back to him. He greets you with a devilish grin and sinful eyes, mischief swirling within the depths of his brown orbs.

“So, you wanna fuck right here?... On an elevator?”

You answer him with a nod, and he scoffs a laugh. “We could get caught,” he mentions.

“I don’t care. I’ve been horny since this morning,” you inform him.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“I was waiting for the right moment.” You pull him closer, blocking his hands as they try to reach out and grab your waist and then bring yours to his shoulders in the same motion.

“And which moment is that?” he questions, upset because he’s not permitted to touch you.

Your smile widens. “This one.”

Using the wall behind you for extra support, you lift your leg and slowly get into a heel stretch position, replacing the hand that was resting on his shoulder with your calf and ankle. Your hand brings his face closer so your foreheads touch. You can smell the minty freshness of his gum and the faint scent of his cologne within the close proximity.

You breathe him in blissfully as you speak. “And I’m not wearing panties.”

Jimin grips onto the railing a little harder after hearing this information.

“So I can just whip it out and.…”

“Fuck me right here,” you finish.

His hand finds his zipper instantly and drags it down. He reaches inside and pulls out his stiffened shaft, stroking it a few times before he inches closer to your cunt.

“We should probably film this… For later.” You wink.

He quickly grabs his phone from his back pocket and searches for the camera. You hold onto your own leg while he makes a hasty dash to place it on the floor beneath you—front-facing activated and already recording.

You look down and notice that it has a clear view of where your bodies will meet, making you excited to view and edit it later. You may even decide to keep this one for yourself instead of uploading it.

Jimin sighs through his nose while he spreads your folds with the head of his cock, running up and down your slit to both stimulate you and coat his length with your juices.

You gasp when he slides into you, and a hand comes over your mouth quickly, a finger to his lip silently instructing you to keep your voice down. After you nod your head, he removes his hand and places it on your calf, wrapping his ring-clad fingers around your leg to keep it where it needs to be.

You only succeed in staying quiet for a few seconds, so Jimin has to kiss your lips so he can conceal your desperate moans. Despite all the noise you’re making, he makes no effort to switch up the pace and continues to fuck you without holding back. The entire elevator rocks with each powerful thrust due to him slamming into you so violently.

Your ass slaps against the cold metal railing but does nothing for the scorching heat radiating from your skin. Soon even Jimin’s thick plush lips aren’t enough to keep your cries of pleasure from escaping, and he has to bring his hand to your mouth again.

“Be quiet, sweetheart,” he whispers, but there’s no way you can when the pleasure is so intense.

Sweat begins to form on your body, and the small space becomes stuffy and humid. Chatter from the outside only heightens the thrill of being in here so exposed and open for anyone to see. Your nails dig into Jimin’s shoulder to stop yourself from floating away in your euphoric state.

“I’m trying,” you mumble into his palm, shrieking and sobbing as tears roll down your cheeks. “It’s so good. Jimin, I—”

“I know, sweetheart. I know. It’s okay,” he coos.

Jimin shushes you as you’re trying to get your words out and lodges himself deep into your womb while he speaks to you.

“I wish you knew how good this pussy feels,” he moans, snapping his hips in an upward motion to repeatedly bury himself in your guts. “I can’t believe this is all mine.”

“Jimin…” you cry out his name, attempting to warn him about the pressure building inside you, but the words get caught in your throat. Fortunately, he knows your body well enough to sense when you are close.

“Do it. Come on my dick, Kitty.”

Your body reacts on his command, and your orgasm ripples through your body. Jimin keeps you up with his strength because the one foot planted on the ground is matched with a shaky leg.

Moments after your intense wave of pleasure, Jimin removes his cock and shoots his cum all over your pussy. Your name leaves his lips as the thick ropes of his seed squirt out on your skin. Your bodies slump over each other, and heavy breathing fills the elevator.

After you’ve calmed, Jimin retrieves the phone, so he can zoom in on his cum covering your center. He smears it with his fingers and chuckles while he records.

“So pretty, and all mine.”

Banging interrupts your post-orgasmic moment, and a man’s voice erupts from the other side of the door.

“Open up, you heathens! We have places to be!”

Jimin’s eyes find your face immediately.

“You knew we were stuck on the first floor, didn’t you?”

You shrug. “Maybe…”

You bite his earlobe and whisper, “Why? Wanna punish me later?”

And you already know for a fact that he does.

#jimin x reader #bts x reader #jimin smut #bts smut #bts angst #jimin angst #bangtanbathhouse #festivaledaway #btsdreamcourt #bangtansorciere #bts fanfics #jimin fanfics #bts imagines #sugakookitty

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vxnillite · 1 year

Text

(i cant come up with titles to save my life; anyway this is just another drabble)

I was feeling angsty some time last week, and ended up thinking about what would happen to Noah immediately after Kevin died. I drew something, then wrote this in connection to it.

Also this little phase may or may not be some sort of venting method for me? It was weirdly comforting to draw and write for this concept. Anyway-

Noah angst ft. Z-Dog (but not in a romantic way), Carter cameo (OC by my friend, Supa!), and Spence being best girl (OC by another friend, Coda!)

No graphic themes or descriptions btw

Spence pushed the last of the boxes out of the door. They felt a lot heavier than they should be. She looked back at her best friend's room, which was now heartbreakingly empty.

The posters and pictures on the walls were gone.

The bedsheets were perfectly made.

Shoes and clothes no longer created tripping hazards on the floor.

The room looked just like any other standard sleeping quarter now, and it hurt Spence to think about it.

"C'mon, Spence," Z-dog said behind her. The taller soldier reached for the door switch and pressed it. Kevin's door hissed to a close. Z-Dog's hand lingered on the switch for a second, then trembled as it let go. "We have to go."

"Where are you taking Kevin's things?"

The women turned around to find Carter flipping box lids open, peeking into Kevin's things. "Didn't he say he didn't have family back on Earth?"

Z-Dog swatted his hand away, then answered, "We're giving it all to Noah."

Carter looked rather offended. "Wait—why are you taking it to them? If it wasn't for them, Kevin would be alive right now!"

Now it was Spence's turn to be offended. On Noah's behalf, she was hurt. A lot. She'd experienced Noah's stubbornness firsthand, heard all of Kevin's stories that revolved around his sibling's recklessness and proclivity to abandon self-preservation, but Spence saw for herself that they loved each other, that Noah loved Kevin more than anything. She never once thought to keep Kevin's stuff from them.

"None of us know what really happened out there, Carter," she said, "And Noah was Kevin's only family le—"

"We are his family, too, aren't we," Carter badgered, "They didn't even go to Kevin's funeral, for christ's sake! Didn't even come back with his body—his bloody dog tag, at least—and you're giving them all his stuff? They don't fucking dese—"

Z-Dog was too fast for Spence or Carter. In the blink of an eye, she slapped him across the face with the back of her hand. He stumbled back from the strength of the slap and the shock of receiving it.

Spence moved to stop her, but the fury in Z-Dog's step was so palpable, it rooted Spence in her spot. There was nothing scarier than a mad woman, and this one had muscles tough as steel. In the back of her mind, Spence thought it better—safer—than to get in her way.

"Keep your trap shut for once, Carter," Z-Dog snarled, pinning every word, "It ain't your call to make."

He was holding onto his reddened cheek. Apparently, Z-Dog had dragged her knuckles across the skin because Carter was bleeding a bit. Still, he held his ground. "It can be our call and you know that. Kevin made his will not fucking knowing his own bloody brat of a sibling would be the one to end him."

"You fucking bi—"

"Alright, enough!"

Before Z-Dog could jump in with the punch, the smaller soldier found it in herself to stop her just in time. Spence caught her by the forearm with a firm grip. She tugged to make Z-Dog look at her, and shook her head. It wasn't worth fighting over. Everyone was tired, conflicted, and emotional.

In fact, none of the mercs could talk about Kevin like a dead man just yet. None had the heart or desire to start sharing stories full of fun and nostalgia about the man who had been so much more than just a fellow soldier to many of them. Spence herself would sometimes wonder if Kevin would just suddenly walk into the open hangar as if nothing happened. He could be missing an arm as he limped in, but he'd have that signature cocky smile on his face and act like he'd just been bit by a mosquito.

Ah, that thought again.The corner of Spence's eyes stung. The feeling was all too familiar by now, but still not welcome—would never be welcome.

"You know I'm right, Spence," Carter insisted. He wiped the dripping blood off his cheek with his thumb.

Meanwhile, Z-Dog's fist was shaking with rage, but Spence kept her back. She looked at Carter defiantly. "I dunno what you're talkin' about," she asserted, "We're givin' Kevin's stuff to Noah, as he said in his will. You telling me you're willin' to disrespect a dead man's final wish, Corporal?"

He obviously didn't expect her to answer like that. But Spence made it clear that there was backbone in her words. She wasn't just saying it to chastise him. Realizing this, Carter backed off, and he lumbered down the opposite end of the hallway, towards the mess hall.

Well, that's odd, Spence thought. Knowing him, he could've put up more of a fight. Then again, Carter was just as tired and hurt as everyone else.

Z-Dog kept glaring at his back until it disappeared behind a wall. Only then did she relax, and Spence let go of her arm. The taller soldier sighed as she flicked the tape back on the boxes that Carter had opened.

"Sorry," she sighed, "I don't know why his words got on my nerves like that. I felt like I was actually gonna punch his lights out."

"As if that mad dog would go down from a single punch," Spence quipped.

"Then why did you stop me?"

"You don't want another disciplinary note on your tab, do you?"

Z-Dog chuckled lightly. "Guess I owe you one, then." She got behind the cart that held most of the boxes. "Alright, let's go."

Spence lifted the smallest box. It held Kevin's trinkets he brought from Earth and collected during missions and field trips. She knew, by heart, what each one meant to Kevin.

She walked along the corridor side-by-side with Z-Dog. Both of them ignored the stares that followed them, pinned themselves on the soldiers' backs. Thankfully, they made it to the SciOps residence without a hitch. As they approached Noah's door, a familiar face emerged from it.

Dr. Grace Augustine looked dejected as she walked out of Noah's room, an untouched tray of food in her hand. She looked up as the soldiers got close. "What are you two doing here," Grace asked, then she looked down at the cart of boxes, "What's all this?"

"It's Kevin's stuff, doc," Spence answered, "Would Noah mind if we just dropped these in?"

Grace looked back at the closed door behind her. She sighed. "I don't know, to be honest. They haven't been talking." The scientist spared the soldiers an apologetic half-smile. "But you can't leave those boxes out in the hall. And do you mind?" She held up the tray of food. "They really need me back at the labs, but Noah hasn't eaten since last night. I've been trying but…" Another sigh. "They're really unresponsive today."

"How long have they been like this," Spence asked.

"Well, how long has it been since we came back from that trip?"

Spence was stunned. So it had been a full week? In the back of her mind, she wished she'd come by sooner. But Spence had been busy dealing with grief herself, having to get 'comfortable' with the scene of finding Noah in the forest undergrowth, their avatar injured into temporary paralysis and that wide-eyed, paranoid look in their eyes, replaying in her head over and over and over. Worst of all, Spence recalled Noah being alone. No Kevin anywhere. But, Noah had told her in such a chilling voice that they had to leave, and so they did.

With Noah being the only witness, Spence and everyone else had been left wondering.

The sound of Z-Dog's voice pulled Spence back to reality. "We'll give it a shot, doc," she said, nodding at the scientist.

Grace gave a quick thanks as she handed the tray to Z-Dog, then the soldiers watched her rush back to the labs. In the silence, they exchanged looks full of anxiousness and uncertainty, then flung those same gazes at the closed door before them.

Spence decided to take the first step. She approached the door and knocked thrice. "Hey, Noah? It's me, Spence," she called out, "Z-Dog's with me. We're here to drop off Kevin's stuff. Can we come in?"

They waited. No answer.

Z-Dog shrugged. We've got no choice, the look on her face said. Unfortunately, Spence agreed. She knocked again. "Noah, we're coming in, okay?"

The door hissed open as Spence hit the switch. As she stepped in, something heavy in the air instantly weighed on her entire person, like a wet blanket had just been thrown at her without warning. The room wasn't a mess, surprisingly, but the atmosphere was depressing. The lights were all off, curtains were closed, clothes piled haphazardly on the bed. But where was—

Sniffles. They came from the far corner of the room. Spence and Z-Dog whipped their heads at the sound, and found a mop of black and purple hair just sitting in the corner. Noah's hair was not in its usual twin braid style. Instead, it engulfed their small frame like a waterfall, obscuring their entire body except for the legs and the arms that hugged them. That waterfall trembled in time with muffled sobbing.

Spence's heart fell to her stomach. She put the box in her hands on the desk and ran to Noah. The soldier sank to her knees next to them.

"Oh, Noah…"

Spence gingerly parted the hair that covered Noah's face. They were sobbing into their knees, face still hidden from view. Pain stabbed at Spence's chest as another sniffle escaped from Noah. At that point, her instincts took over and she pulled Noah in, squeezing them as tight as she practicably could. Her own eyes welled up with the tears she'd been holding in since that morning. Noah's body was shaking like a leaf in howling winds as they bawled like a child—loud and uncontrollable—and Spence was reminded of how young Noah actually was.

22, and they had only been reunited with Kevin for a year after being separated for four years. Spence recalled all the stories Kevin had told her about Noah. He gushed on so proudly for ages and told her he couldn't wait until Noah arrived on Pandora, too. She recalled waiting on the runway with Kevin, seeing Noah descend the Valkyrie ramp, knowing immediately it was them because of how Kevin would describe them in great detail, and watching how they jumped right into their brother's wide, waiting arms, laughing like a child on Christmas morning. The scene was straight out of a movie, heartwarming and tear jerking, even for Spence.

Only the movie was, unbeknownst to everyone, actually a swift tragedy.

Spence nestled her chin over their head and let herself feel every crying tremor that shook Noah's body. She caressed Noah's hair and tried to soothe them as best as she could. Though, no words formed in her mouth that she felt like would actually help in the situation. So she held them. Dearly.

Meanwhile, Z-Dog had taken the boxes off the cart and lined them up neatly by one of the walls. Then she opened the one that had most of Kevin's clothes in it. There wasn't much to pack given that they didn't bother putting in the RDA-commissioned clothes, just the ones that Kevin actually brought for himself. Z-Dog grabbed a familiar piece from the top of the folded pile. She walked over to the huddled pair, crouched down on Noah's other side, and draped the jacket over them. It looked like a blanket compared to their frame.

"Kevin's favorite," Z-Dog said softly, a tone Spence didn't know she was capable of. She put a firm hand on Noah's back. "I know he'd want you to have it."

The two soldiers stayed as they are. Spence hugged Noah tight and Z-Dog rubbed circles on their back. But while they just accepted that Noah would keep crying—maybe tire themselves out eventually—-they didn't quite expect to feel movement other than the shivers. From the corner of her eye, Spence saw Noah's hands slowly creep up towards the zipper of Kevin's jacket. They held onto it weakly and pulled it closer.

"Noah?"

More sniffles came. Then Spence felt her chin sliding off Noah's head as they slowly looked up. Through their matted, spindly hair, Spence found herself looking into eyes that looked exactly like Kevin's, only these ones were bloodshot, lifeless without that usual spark behind them.

Then an unfamiliar voice came about, as dry and cracked as drought-ridden soil, as weak as a whisper in a storm.

"I'm sorry."

#avatar the way of water #avatar fanfiction #avatar james cameron #original character #this is officially noah lore

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