#..ironically wearing his own shirt during this lmao but yeah. at least they are pretty gifs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

extravaguk · 4 years ago

Text

santa&prada

part of my opposites attract! series.

ksj / knj / myg / jhs / kth / jjk

pairing: rich!jimin x reader

summary: Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

wordcount: 5k

genre: smut - angst(? - fluff (? idk u tell me

rated: m

warnings: a christmas fic in late november, cursing, a huge misunderstanding lmao, i call jimin ‘park jimin’ too many times bc i felt like it, car sex, oral (f recieving), some good ole spanking, (kinda) rough and unprotected sex, a lil of dirty talk, spit kink. thats about it. just an excuse to write jimin fucking you in a car. jimin is not as bad as oc thinks srsly.

The first time you meet Park Jimin is through mutual friends. On a firday night on December, with white, red and green lights decorating the streets of New York, filled with the typical hustle of the masses doing last minute Christmas shopping, the freezing weather impacting your body temperature, cursing yourself for choosing tights, a skirt and heeled boots that are too pretty but too uncomfortable to wear.

You had never considered yourself a particular enthusiast of Christmas festivities. You guess discovering Santa Claus was, actually, your parents before the rest of the kids in your class was one of the many reasons that made you grow up too soon and therefore, not allowing you to fully enjoy the month of December. Or maybe it had nothing to do with Santa, and more to do with your parents deciding to get a divorce a day before Christmas Eve. A traumatic event for seven year old you, but completely forgotten and overcome by twenty-four year old present you.

Growing up each Christmas suffering the consecuences of a shared custody would have probably had a disastrous effect on anybody else, but not you. Although the separation was a tough reality to accept at first, fortunately your parents were always capable of raising you in an environment full of love and affection, just like any other kid. And you prided yourself on having moved on from those circumstances a long time ago (even if your therapist disagreed and blamed many of your behaviors on it. Whatever.)

To put it simply, December was just not the month for you. It was just another month, like the remaining eleven of the year, except Mariah Carey's voice was heard every five minutes everywhere you'd go and people gave each other presents as if it was only during that time of the year when they remembered their loved ones.

The only thing you could thank Christmas for were the well deserved two weeks of holidays our work allowed until the new year's arrival. Fifteen days of rest, peace and baking those gingerbread cookies that Seokjin died for and that you sincerely denoted as nauseating.

You truly had no idea what exactly you did wrong that night. You don't know if it was something you said, or something you did, but what you did know was that Park Jimin pursued a silent and personal vendetta against you that continued nowadays.

"Here are your disgusting cookies, you filthy animal." it might have been that very first sentence you said when you entered the bar and reunited with your friends that didn't cause a good impression. "Shit, it's cold as fuck. My nipples are harder than my life." or maybe it was your selection of words while you waved every familiar face hello until you stopped to look at the only (pretty. too pretty, as well) one you had never seen before.

"_____, it's Chrismtas! Santa Clause will only bring you a lump of coal if you keep cursing like that!" Lisa laughed while she kissed your cheek and made space for you to sit next to her. "Oh, by the way, this is Jimin. A friend of Namjoon. He's a newbie!"

Park Jimin was stunning, you had no trouble admitting that. You weren't blind, you weren't stupid, and you could go as far as theorize that his dark eyes, his light and always immaculate styled hair, his sharp jawline and those plump lips as red as cherries must have been sculpted by Satan himself.

Fuck, you were even sure you'd be on your knees in front of Park Jimin in an alternative universe begging for his dick inside your mouth. But in the universe where you and the real Park Jimin reside, he would never come near you unless somebody was aiming a gun into his skull.

You're not precisely sure what it was, but a brief exchange of glances and an evasive and sligh shake of hands with Park Jimin was enough to make you feel ashamed and withdrawn for the rest of the night.

If Jimin wasn't even able to drop a polite "Nice to meet you", he sure as hell wasn't able to pretend you even existed.

Even the small talk you had tried to engaged with him about his shiny pair of shoes went terribly wrong.

"Oh, are those Dolce and Gabbana?"

"Dolce and Gabbana are homphobic, racist and sexist, so no" the grimace on his face should've been enough to make you regret speaking to him in the first place , but the snarky voice of his made you want to run away and hide from him until next Christmas.

In reality, you swore you didn't care. Seriously. Other's opinions were never something that could easily bother you or keep you awake at night. You had always turned a deaf ear to the cruel children that made fun of you due to your parent's divorce, you had always ignored the amount of men that never considered you "ladylike" enough (what the fuck did that even mean, anyway? what exactly made a lady and what didn't?), and you had always disregarded any envous comment surrounding you.

So, fuck Park Jimin! You had said to yourself. He's just a well mannered rich boy. Somebody who didn't resemble you in any aspect. A stupid, pretentious, spoiled boy who's had everything he's ever wanted in the palm of his hand, unlike you. Who the fuck cares what Park Jimin thinks?

But apparently, you did.

You would have never placed such importance to whatever it was that roamed inside Jimin's head if his appearances in your group of friends hadn't been so recurrent.

Because each time you were forced to see Jimin's face, you were also forced to experience a strange knot of discomfort and humilliation growing in your stomach in his mere presence. It's not like Jimin did anything specific to make you feel that way. He might not even do it on purpose, or his intentions might not be entirely evil. Maybe he simply didn't realize how he always avoided being by your side like the plague, or how his body immediately tensed and he balled his hands into fists everytime you were less than two feet away from him, or how he would look at you from the corner of his eye everytime you decided you speak, almost as if he was waiting for you to shut up to finally let out the air he was containing inside his lungs in relief.

Yeah, Park Jimin most likely didn't even realize he was being a rude and disrespectful son of a bitch.

And with time, you couldn't help but attribute that disdain and hostility that Park Jimin always directed at you to the many undeniable differences that constituted each of you. Park Jimin, with his impeccable and always well ironed Prada shirts, his spotless trousers, jewelry that probably costed more than three of your annual salaries, and always emanating that Givenchy fragance that screamed "wealth!" every rare occasion you could experiment his presence next to you. Exactly two years after that first meeting with Park Jimin, you hadn't been able to avoid reciprocating that feeling of contempt towards him. Not when you were the only victim of his arrogance. Everybody loved Park Jimin, and Park Jimin loved everyone.

Except you.

Clinging to your glass of Don Pérignon and finishing the rest of the liquid in one go, you try to snap out of your own thoughts, reminding yourself to return to the conversation you're currently having with Taehyung about a pretty waitress that he's met during one of his art exhibitions (or at least that's what you think you caught him say) and forcing yourself by all means to stop observing the friendly and kind smiles that Park Jimin was shooting to those present from across the room and that you will never be able to achieve.

"_____? Are you even listening to me, darling?" Taehyung's voice is what makes you finally look away from the dumb blond standing on the opposite side of the room, blinking a few times before clearing your throat.

"Sorry, Tae." letting out a sigh, you try to brush back and put in place the strand of hair that escaped the intricate hairdo you had tried and so miserably failed to do yourself to try to fit in and hopefully impress such environment of preppy and privilaged people (ahem, Park Jimin) falling on your forehead as best as you can. "Just been really stressed this week and I'm on another planet. You know how I feel about Christmas. I think I need a new flute of . Or five."

Taehyung sends you a look full of empathy and places one of his hands in your shoulder, squeezing lightly in a comforting way. "I'll get you another one. I'll be right back." You quickly interrupt him though, to prevent him from standing up before you.

"No, really. I'll go. I need some fresh air anyways, if you don't mind." And of course Taehyung doesn't mind, so you get on your feet as graceously as your tipsy state allowed you to (who told you it was a good idea to drink three glasses in less than thirty minutes of the extremely expensive champagne Taehyung had brought to the Christmas party he had organized and why did it convince you it would appease your anxiey?) and make your way towards the table where the rest of the bottles are. A table dangerously close to the conversation Jimin and that friend of Lisa (whose name you don't remember) were having.

Both are with their backs turned and, honestly, you take a silent moment to thank God or whatever is up there because the last thing you need right now is yet another awkward interaction with Jimin, so you try as best as you can to refill your glass of champagne to get out of there as soon as possible, praying to make your exit going unnoticed.

But no. Because the stars and the universe loved to align to make you suffer! They love to play with your karma and they love making you damn that one day you didn't help that lady cross the street. They love making you regret buying those plastic straws. They love making you feel guilty for hacking your neighbour's Wifi when you run out of money to pay for yours. Because the moment you try to take a hold of the bottle in your hands, it slips out of your grasp, and you're watching in slow motion how the sparkling berverage ends up spilling all over the extremely expensive (or so you assume. Balenciaga maybe) suit pants Park Jimin decided to wear that night.

Everything is kind of blurry and you can't even hear anything. You can only watch as Park Jimin turns around, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed, until his eyes find you, the bane of his existance and immediately recognizing the culprit of his now drenched piece of clothing. And you can watch as, once again, his gaze turns almost black and narrow lightly as to reprimend you for what you've caused. But of course he doesn't say a word. He has nothing to say. He doesn't even look surprised. No. Because obviously, Park Jimin knew that if there was somebody in this room willing to ruin his night, it would be you, and only you.

"Shit!" you're the first one to break the strained silence, but that only makes Jimin flinch. "Shit, shit, shit. I'm so fucking dumb! J-Jimin, I'm so sorry, let me just go grab a paper tow-"

"Don't." his voice cuts through you. Literally cuts through you. Because it's not often that Park Jimin decides to aim his words at you, but everytime he does it holds the same frigid tone. Like knives trying to painfully stab your being. "Just, don't."

In reality, you don't know a lot of things and you don't know what causes what happens next. You don't know if it's the specific time of the year, you don't know if it's your internal stress, or if it's Park Jimin, his voice, or the fact that he will never like you. But it's instant. They way something compresses your chest, and suddenly your eyes are not glaced by the alcohol but by something wet that threatens to flow. You would never admit to anyone they're tears.

So, shutting your mouth and swallowing the uncomfortable feeling of anguish in your throat, leaving your flute forgotten on the table and grabbing the bottle instead. Without saying a word, your feet start moving up the stairs of the ridiculously enourmous house Taehyung owns towards the first free and empty balcony you can find. Free of people and free of Park Jimin.

Closing the large window behind you, you allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath; the icy temperature outside immediately welcoming you. Although the hairs on your arm stand up and you know you're probably going to catch a cold (because the dress you've chosen for the dinner is not at all appropiate for such winter climate), at least the tension in your body seems to disappear while oxygen keeps that ugly feeling in your heart at bay from continuing to choke you.

With shaky hands, you take a big gulp straight from the champagne bottle. Fuck Park Jimin. No man will ever have the power to make you feel what you're feeling right now. Fuck Park Jimin. And fuck his beautiful face and his ability to make you tremble and fear looking like an idiot. Fuck his fancy clothes and his perfect manicured hands and his marvelous but frigthening presence.

Knock knock.

The sound makes you jump back from the window, hand grasping your chest while you turn around, coming face to face with the man in question. Your first instinct is to ignore him. But that thought is already out of the way when it's him the one who struggles with the window lock before opening and taking a step towards you. You step back as he steps in, raising your head up high and puffing your chest. Because your second instinct is to tell Park Jimin to go fuck himself.

"_____, I would like to-"

"You would like to what?" Jimin looks taken aback at your harshness. Alcohol has always been a weapon of mass destruction in your system, provoking words to flow too easily and without filter out of your mouth, more than they already do when you're sober. Especially when it's mixed with the frustration you've been harboring inside of you for two years. That's why when the words start to come out, they won't stop. "To make me feel like shit one more time? To look at me with that fucking conceited face trying to make me feel like you're better than me? Or would you like to ignore me once again as you always do everytime we're in the same fucking room to make sure I know you hate my mere existance, even if it's just the two of us right now?"

The steam leaving your lips due to the accelerated beat of your heart blurs his face for an instant while he looks at you dumbfounded. The silence and his expression makes you scoff, an acidic smile adorning your face while you take another sip of your drink because even with such a stupid face, he still looks delectable with his white shirt and ruined pants. You turn around, removing a tear that you hadn't even realized had fallen during your speech and that, frankly, you were hoping he hadn't either. You would blame it on the cold, anyway.

This time, a gust of wind running through you from head to toe, making you forget of Park Jimin's presence looming behind you, reminding you it's still December and the fabric of your dress is doing nothing to conceal you from the cold.

But before you can do anything about it and blame yourself for being dumb and not taking your coat with you before deciding to step into balcony, Park Jimin surprises you once again, this time by placing his navy blue blazer over the naked skin of your arms.

Your back straightens when you feel his warm breath caressing the back of your neck, at the same time that a voice you have never heard Park Jimin use with you echoes in your ears.

"I really don't hate you, _____. I..." Jimin wets his lips. His body trembles, but it's not due to lacking his own coat, while his brain hurriedly searches for words eloquent and adequate enough to explain voice his thoughts. "I like you very much, _____."

Scoffing again while you shake your head, you push down with all your inner strenght the incipent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach that Jimin has managed to cause in just a matter of seconds. It's probably the longest sentence you've heard from him in two years, and you don't exactly understand why your body is reacting the way it is. But you're also not willing to give Park Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that. He doesn't deserve it anyway. So with all the courage you can muster, you turn around with your hands clenching.

And even though being at such short distance from Jimin is a bit overwhelming and unexpected for you, the irritation still making your blood bubble is enough to not let a man as handsome as him derail you from your current circumstances.

"Well, fuck you Park Jimin. You certainly have a funny fucking way to sh-" his hands cradling your jaw that pull you closer to him and his lips that silent you roughly, but with surprising care. Only for a moment. A moment in which your body betrays you and make you melt into hir warmth. But his voice, low and sinfully husky, murmurs against your lips.

"God, that mouth of yours..." he goes back to attacking your own lips, this time more firm than before, snatching a sigh from you. The sound has his tongue asking for permission into your mouth, and with your body betraying you once again, you part your lips to allow him in. It's him who whimpers this time, while one of his hand moving until it reaches the bottle in your hand and letting it drop carelessly onto the floor, ignoring the sound of glass shattering and the future scolding you'll get from Taehyung. Instead, he sneaks that same hand on your waist, pulling your body flush against his, fingers digging onto your skin. "It's been driving me crazy for two years. Two years, _____."

He mumbles between kisses and swipes his tongue against yours, while he stars walking the both of you until your back meets the nearest concrete wall.

"Two years of having to hear the incessant filthy words that leave your mouth..." his own stop their movements and you catch yourself before begging him to reattaching his lips to yours, enjoying instead the path of wet kisses and bruises his lips traile from your chin to the pulse of your neck "...and trying my best to hide the painful boners I get whenever you're nearby."

With your eyes shut, your hands are back in motion, ignoring the voice in your head reminding you he's still an asshole and finding their way between Jimin's soft golden strands of hair. He hums in appreciation, sending goosebumps all over your body. "So, s-so why not do anything about it sooner?" you say, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe properly.

You feel Jimin's body tensing before you and he ceases the movement of his lips against your neck. Breaking away, your heart stops, afraid you might have ruined the moment. But Jimin's in search of your eyes, eyebrows very lighlty raised, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place. You don't know for how long you stare at each other until Jimin comes out of the trance, eyes descending over your flushed cheeks, the very same color as your lips and the soft flesh of your neck until they reach your cleavage, the glimmering fabric encasing your breasts, taunting him the same way they had been doing all night long.

"You scare me so much..." and then, one of his hands repeats the same journey his eyes just did, until he touches your shoulder, right under his own blazer. "Everytime I look at you, all I can think of why the hell a girl as real as you like you would even glance my way." he slides the strap of your dress slowly tentatively, just enough for you to stop his advances if you chose so. You don't. "You're smart in ways I could never compare, so funny it makes me jealous, and so pretty it leaves me speechless. You're...You're everything I'm not."

His voice resonates in the atmosphere, and you would love to blame it on the cold again for how your body has reacted, but your body heat has increased so much since he started kissing you that it would be stupid not to admit that it's just the effect that Park Jimin has on you tonight. You're sure he would've had the same effect if it had happened before.

Your now uncovered breast doesn't even has to suffer the consequences of the icy wind, because one of Jimin's arms quickly comes around you to hold your body against his, lifting you ever so slighty until your erect nipple is at the same level as his mouth and his lips are enveloping it in their warmth. You gasp his name, and that encourages his teeth to tug softly before his tongue stars moving in circes.

"My God, you're so perfect." Your head spins while you hold onto his shoulders as tight as you can, the undeniable heat roaming all over your form, hips involuntarily rutting his incipent erection poking your abdomen. "Been thinking about this since that night we first met." Looking for relief, Jimin mirrors your movements without ceasing the administrations on your chest, as one of his hands lifts one of your thighs to wrap around his waist, closing the short gap remaining between the both of you.

"Ohmygod! F-fuck, Jimin," trying to form coherent phrases is almost impossible, not with Jimin finding a slow and tortuous rythm with his hips, his clothed cock rubbing against your core. Something shifts in the air, because Jimin stops abusing your nipple with a loud pop, and shuts you up by pressing his mouth onto yours in an urgent, dirty and desperate kiss. You could almost hear him swearing, while his hand keeps your jaw in place.

"S-stop talking like that, ______." his voice, inaudible, and his face now hiding in the crook of your neck, the thrusting of his hips speeding up, more and more frantic this time. The hand not holding your thigh against his hipbone reveals your other breast, hand covering it and giving it a light squeeze before tugging at your unattended nipple between his forefinger and his thumb while his tongue and teeth mark the skin on your neck.

"Hell, I've been dying to stuff your mouth with my cock to prevent you from such foul language," the soft whimpers leacving your mouth coax him into taking the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric until his fingers easily find the place in your body calling to him the most through the lace. It's immediate, how his fingers dampen at the first touch, surprising the both of you, and how your body jolts and an embarrassing sob escapes your throat. "How-how are you this wet? Holy hell, I could just slide right in..."

And as he says that, one of his fingers pull aside the fabric of your underwear and glide into you, so easy. You insides burning while he fingers you, another finger being added with his thumb rubbing circles on your nub. And fuck, you're not sure if you're just too horny and Park Jimin is a magician with his hands, or maybe it's the way he keeps mouthing at your chest and whispering how soaked you are, but you don't think you've ever been so close to cumming in such a short period of time.

"W-whats stopping you?" you manage with a voice that doesn't even resembles yours, but before your hands can even make work of the zipper of his trousers, he pulls his finger out from your center, causing you to whine in protest.

Jimin licks his lips, eyebrows framing the dark expression that his eyes ooze. Although the desire in his eyes is more than evident, it is also evident the faint hesitation in them. Because Park Jimin doesn't do things this way. Park Jimin was raised in a world of correct manners and conservationism. A world that has taught him when and how to act. And as badly as he is dying to fuck you against the wall of Taehyung's ridiculously inmense house, he also wants to do the right thing.

"Let me take you on a date."

Park Jimin has been spoiled his whole life. Being born in a well-off family has always provided him of everything he had ever wanted and more. From the innecessary number of toys Santa Claus left under his Christmas tree every year since he was a baby, to his fisrt extravagant sports car at the age of eighteen. Park Jimin has never been a greedy or needy man. How could he, when he's had everything he's ever wished in the palm of his hands. He has never missed anything in his entire life. Hasn't missed a roof over his head, warm food on his plate or brand new designers clothes each week.

It has taken him two years to control himself. He still remembers that night he first met you, just like he remembers every single time you both had coincided in the same place at the same time. He remembered your scent, had memorized your figure over your pieces of clothing and had tried as best as he could to keep a distance from you because he knew you would never give him the time of day. How could you? You probably despised everything he was because he was definitely nothing like you, and that thought intimidated the fuck out of him. He was a mess everytime you wear nearby. Never relied on his voice because he knew he would stutter if you ever spoke to him, could never trust his eyes because if he ever looked at you he was afraid he wouldn't be able to look away.

And everytime you spoke, shit, that voice of yours always cursing here and there left him wondering how would you sound in a different setting and if you would still be that badmouthed. More specifically, between his sheets. So he did everything he could to minimize your interactions as much as possible. He just never thought he would come across as such a jerk. It was never his intention to hurt you, and seeing you cry that night (although you denied you did, over and over again) seriously made him realize he wanted to make things right.

He was trying really, really hard to keep it in his pants, to be the same well composed and controled Park Jimin he had mastered himself to be.

But that damn dress.

After seeing that little black dress hugging your figure when you started taking off your coat at the restaurant, the brief flash of thigh tights that you accidentaly (or not so accidentally) had blessed him with by crossing a leg over the other, that exposed collarbone calling his name and those heeled sandals with straps wrapping around your ankles, reminding him of the snake tempting Eve, Park Jimin was sure he needed to dig into that apple more than anything he has ever needed before.

That's why he surprises you right after you both finish the second course meal by telling the waitress you won't be having desert, at which you look at him somewhat indignant. But the look he shoots you is enough to make you understand if somebody was going to have desert tonight, it would be him. In his Mercedes.

"I'm gonna-" you gasp, fingers tugging at the soft strands of his now ruined blond hair, his head between your thighs and your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands have a grip of the meaty flesh of your ass, holding you firmly againt his mouth as it works wonders on your clit. You're sure it hasn't even been ten minutes since Jimin had opened your legs in the backseat of his car, not even bothering to take your underwear off, simply moving the fabric aside before diving in, and you already feel yourself on the edge of an orgasm.

"I know." voice vibrating right into your core, he slows down his administrations, tongue carefully and delicately lapping at your folds while he enjoys the feeling of your fingers loosening their grip and fondly brushing his hair back. You meet his eyes as he pushes a finger inside your core and your whole body twists in agony.

"N-no!"

Jimin stops immediately, lifting his head and focusing his concerned eyes on you. He's about to ask you if he's done anything wrong, but you're fast to roughly pull him up by his hair until his face is leveled with yours. You answer him by kissing him and he returns the kiss with the same eagerness, and now it's your hands that are looking for his cock, palming him through his pants.

"Your dick. Inside. Right Now." you punctuate each phrase with a kiss and he only stops kissing you to pout.

"But I wanted you to cum on my tongue." but still, he's putty in your hands when you undo the botton and the zipper. "Wouldn't you rather me fucking you in my bed, where we're more comfortable?" you notice the slight quivering of his voice when you slide his trousers and boxers down, just enough to pull him out.

"You can eat me and fuck me as many times as you want tonight, tomorrow and whenever you'd like, but right now..." none of you contain the moan in unision that leaves each of your mouths when just the head of his lenght comes in contact with your entrance. "I really can't wait anymore." brushing your lips over his, you lower your voice. "Wanna get on my hands and knees for you."

Park Jimin has tried to do things the right and appropiate way throughout all his life. He's been a professional from a very young age on how to be in charge of his emotions, his desires and his impulses. Always well mannered and well composed.

But it's in this moment that Jimin comes to the realization that the only thing that has ever made him lose his mind and self control, is you. Seeing you like this, ass up, grinding your drenched and still thong clad cunt all over his precum dripping lenght, he can't control the way his hand bunches the fabrick of that damn dress over your waist, then flies to your right cheek, a sharp sound of skin filling the air, tearing a gasp from your throat.

"God, I'm-I'm sorry. Couldn't help mys-"

"Do it again."

And he does, the palm of his hand now leaving a reddenning print on your flesh, making you jolt back involuntarily, aligning yourself to the head of his cock and like he had hoped, he slides right in. Not all the way, because Jimin is sure he would cream inside you too soon and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he did. He wets his lips, clenching his jaw and dropping his palm one more time, hand more steady and purposeful.

"You like it rough?" voice hoarse and a hand beside your head holding himself, your back to his chest, twitching beneath him as he soothes the sting with his free one.

"I like you rough." turning your head slowly to peer at him from the corner of your eye, your hips moving on their own accord trying to take him deeper. Your head is suddenly pulled back harshly, Jimin's fingers tangling in your hair as his own hips close the remaining gap between your bodys in an abrupt thurst. You squeal, Jimin's cock finally filling you up to the hilt just like you wanted him to be, the pleasure making your arms wobble and finding it harder to mantain your balance.

Jimin's breath fawns over your ear, his tongue darting out to suck on your skin sending chills down your spine. "You're such a dream." he groans, torturously sliding out of your core that's gripping around his shaft for dear life. A whine of protest escapes your lips and he tightens the hold on your hair in response, diving right back in. You fall forward, your arms' strenght betraying you as his thrusts find a new rhythm. With your eyes closed shut, you try to muffle the sound of your voice with the back of your hand as Jimin's lips place soft kisses to your exposed shoulder.

"Don't be quiet." he stands straight, the pull on your hair arching your back in such a enticing way it was Jimin look away for a second, cock buried inside of you and his hips faltering. "Been dying to have you like this for so long."

Another clap of his hand against your right cheek, and a particular stroke of his dick that has you mewling as your climax approached again. "S-so good, Jimin. Oh my god."

"You're gonna cum for me?" his fingertips leave bruises on your skin and the windows of his Mercedes are foggy, just like your mind. You can't concentrate on anything that's not Jimin's cock sliding in and out and how much you wished this had happened way sooner. "Gonna cum for me like a good slut?"

Park Jimin always takes his time. Always does things nice and slow to assure the best outcome possible.

But he can't contain the acceleration of his hips against yours as your walls clench impossibly tight around his cock, your orgasm finally taking over . Can't contain himself from falling forward again, hand twisting your head in his direction and his mouth searching for yours in a fiery and messy kiss. And he most definitely can't barely contain himself from cumming when your you ask him to spit in your mouth.

"You're gonna kill me." he breathes, removing himself off you and quickly maneuvering you on your back, his dick finding its way back inside you. Picking up right where he left off, skin slapping against skin in an obscene melody, he collects a considerate amount of saliva in his mouth before dropping it into your welcoming tongue, watching you swallow with a smile he hopes he'll be the only one to see in the future.

And that's what has the last bit of his self restraint slipping from his fingers. He somehow manages to rip the top of your dress down, fabric tearing until your tits are free and his mouth is attacking your nipples, white strings of his release panting your walls, some of it them oozing out that he fucks back right into you.

It's between ragged breaths, kisses and tender carresses that Jimin promises you more dates in the future and new dresses that he can't promise not to savage apart again.

#jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #park jimin smut #bts smut #bts #pjm #pjm smut #bad bunny is retiring like who the fuck does he think he is to decide when he gets to retire???#nah bb WE decide when you retire

401 notes · View notes

ac-ars · 7 years ago

Text

High for this

this baby is greek i hope you like it guys

sending hugs to my fav @sky-girls because well she helped lmao

🌙

Have safe flight

Luna isn't really scared of flying, but flight from Cancun to London seemed not nice even a bit. What would she do during long ass flight, on tiny seat with some stranger next to her? She's sitting on the airport now, in the terminal, her luggage already taken to the claim and walking around all fancy expensive stores was done like half of an hour ago. Those airport benches suck, they are super uncomfortable no matter which position she takes. Currently she's texting her mom and Simón, who's picking her from Heathrow. Monica Valente asks about millions of things, if Luna took toothbrush, if she has her wallet and passport and telling her not to talk with people who look suspicious while Simón just makes fun of her, because she’s a little freaking out about Oxford.

Brunette sighs loudly letting out her disgust with the situation as some fat sweaty guy eating fries sits next to her even if there's like twenty free seats around. Luna gets up biting a growl and almost forgets her handbag from under the bench and it would mean she’s fucked, so bless that she remembered. Her flight departures in thirty minutes so it’s almost boarding time and that’s only thing that keeps Luna alive.

She holds onto her boarding pass as if it’s keeping her alive and it lowkey is, because Oxford paid for her flight and she wouldn’t want to lose this small paper. The gate is suddenly full and Luna hates the bus going straight under the plane, because she’s small. Nature, or her biological parents, didn’t give her much of the height and now she’s getting to know all of the bad parts as she’s being breathless between people and their hand baggages.

The last thing she tries to remember on the runway before getting into the aircraft is heat of Cancun, because England is cold as hell from what she’s heard from Simón and she knows she’s gonna miss it so, so much. Flight attendant checking her pass is smiling widely, almost genuinely and Luna smiles back even if it’s obvious that they just have to be nice.

She walks slowly through the aisle hoping she will get window seat, or at least not in the middle part and as soon as she gets to her number she sees some bag laying on her very seat. It's probably disgustingly expensive bag so brunette just takes it and places on the ground before sitting down and looking at the airport terminal from the window.

“Excuse me, what is my bag doing on the floor?” Slightly annoyed male voice asks and Luna sighs turning to him.

“Well, floor is more its place than my seat.” She answers with small pout not wanting to look at him again, because she wouldn’t manage being consistent while the guy looks that cute in glasses.

“You could’ve moved it to mine, though,” he mumbles messing with his hair and brushing his hand over his face. “Nevermind, it’s just a bag after all.”

Luna nods not sure what happened now, but doesn’t ask still a little confused with whole situation. She just focuses back on the window trying to ignore this feeling of familiarity when she remembers his face.

The plane is getting fuller with every minute and before she can blink the flight attendants are explaining seatbelts and other emergency things no one ever watches.

“Hey,” the guy next to her nudges her slightly when she focuses on her phone. “Watch them, it can help you one day.”

She stares at him weirdly, because that sounded almost creepy, but she just shrugs moving her eyes to the stewardess. It’s not that boring and actually lowkey helpful so she's focused on the woman until taxiing starts. Climbing passes without any turbulences or some shit and before Luna can notice they are on cruise height for next twelve hours. Amazing.

The guy next to her takes out macbook from his fancy bag and brunette snorts softly wondering what such guy is doing in economic class. Screen lights up blinding her completely and she has to blink headache away before reading Matteo Balsano on it and seeing some random beach picture on the wallpaper. Luna plans to turn her head away, but he opens some weird program that looks like those super complicated apps making music, those she saw on famous people's instas and she can't even read anything when she hears his voice.

“I know it looks cool, but staring is rude. Didn't you know that?” he asks even without moving his eyes to Luna. He bites softly his lower lip when he searches for something in the bag and his frown softens as he pulls out earphones.

“Yeah, sorry.” Luna mumbles in answer, yet doesn't take her eyes off the Matteo guy. He's wearing just dark jeans, well fitted, very well fitted and her mind instantly wonders if he will get up later to let her judge more. His light blue shirt looks super expensive and perfectly ironed and Luna isn't sure who the fuck and how old he is.

“You are still staring, this is starting to be creepy.” This time he turns to her leaning back of his head against the seat. His glasses rode down his nose a little and Luna isn't sure how she manages to keep her hand on her thigh not to fix that. There's this focused pout on his lips, as if he's unsatisfied that she interrupted, but not actually mad or something.

“I'm sorry, it's just the longest shit flight in my life and I'm not sure how I'll handle that.” Luna whines softly playing with the pillow the stewardess gave her before plane started moving.

“It's not that bad, flight from Buenos Aires is even longer and I've had few in my whole life already.” The Matteo guy has nice smile and Luna focuses on it not sure how he can be so bright when there's almost twelve hours more in the plane.

“How many times until I get used to that?” Brunette sighs looking out from the window, but seeing the pretty clouds and the sun doesn't make her any less bored.

“You don't.” He grins in this a little troublemaker way. He doesn't look like any proper snob right now, especially when he brushes his fingers through his hair. “You just find new things to do during the flight or sleep. Or you talk to random people learning new stuff, that's a way to live too.”

“And which one have you perfected?” Luna asks smiling at him when he shakes his head slightly and points with his head at the laptop. “Isn't it obvious? I'm just doing my stuff, not to mention this is my homework actually.” His lips change into thin line when he shrugs a little unsure and there's something soft in him making Luna warm a bit.

“What homework?” Shouldn't she just let him do it?

Nah, let's ask.

He smiles widely again, showing his teeth and she's not sure what now. “I think we should get some basics before sharing our private life like homework. What do you think?”

Brunette pouts looking at him suspiciously and wondering if he's making fun of her or not. Eventually she nods; there's no way she spends this shitty flight alone, staring at his laptop.

“I'm Luna,” she says with this sure tone that makes him laugh.

“I'm Matteo, but I'm lowkey sure you saw that on my laptop.”

Luna blushes turning away from him with a sigh, because with her luck she bumped into asshole. Why does life hate her?

“Okay, I was joking. Again, okay?” Matteo pokes her on the arm. “I'm Matteo, it's very nice to share my flight with you.”

“It’s very nice indeed.” She mumbles under her breath. “I'm going to new uni and I'm scared as hell.” Words leave her mouth before she can manage to stop them and apparently she needed to blurt it uncontrollably to stranger because she feels less scared now. And surprisingly Matteo isn't making any fun of her.

“That was me two years ago, same situation except new places don't really scare me since my parents were traveling like crazy. Thanks to their work.” Last sentence is said with this small bitterness and Luna wonders why, but doesn't ask letting him continue. “It won't be that bad. What are you going to study?”

“Environmental engineering, and if you mention me saving the world I'm gonna kick you.”

Matteo giggles with pretty sound and for a second she thinks he will say it, but he doesn't. “That sounds fancy as hell. I'm just plain person studying music and trying to pass with those songs I have here.” He points at the laptop and she nods, knowing what is he doing right now.

“Is it difficult? Making songs, I mean.”

He shrugs looking at the aisle. “I don't know. You just learn how to do that. You learn how to do everything there, so that's nothing unexpected.”

“You have to have an idea though.” Luna murmurs almost to herself.

Matteo looks at her with unreadable smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Will you ever be cool enough for me to listen to you on spotify?” She jokes a little and bless him for catching it.

“I'm obviously cool enough, I'd say I'm too cool for them already.” He sends her a wink and she blushes not knowing why the hell.

“So you're more tidal person?” Luna asks more herself than him and Matteo makes terrified face shaking his head. “No way. Let's stay by the spotify.”

He is being super nice and talking to him isn't scaring her like with other people, he's apparently two years older or something so there's no big difference making her feel better. Matteo raises his eyebrows in silent question and she just nods letting him make music, no matter how curious she is of that and of him.

Luna reaches for her own earphones and puts them into her ears staring the music and leaning against the wall of the plane to sleep. It’s uncomfortable as fuck, the engines are roaring loud enough to break through her playlist, but the best brunette can do is ignore this remembering statistics about seats by the wings being the safest places to sit. This is gonna be long flight and maybe airplane mode will save a little of her battery.

🌙

When she wakes up he is sleeping. It's been like two hours of her sleep and Luna isn't any surprised since she couldn't sleep at all the night before, so that's only pro of flights duration: that she can sleep all the time. Not counting pain in her neck, of course.

Matteo is sleeping almost like it's trouble less to sleep in the plane, like it's super comfy and easy and Luna isn't sure if it's because everything he does seems easy or just he got used to that. His arm is pressed against hers yet she doesn't mind at all, even if she doesn't know him at all she likes him enough to let him be close. It's weird feeling, but it's not like Luna is able to fight with her feelings.

She focuses on the sight from the window and it hasn't changed a bit so she takes out the tablet her aunt sent her from Buenos Aires for birthday. Poor Rey had to fly straight to Cancun to give her small box and birthday card with this annoyed face and even if Luna doesn't like him at all she still felt a bit bad.

She opens some random book trying to concentrate on the words and it's lowkey working until Matteo starts to stir on his seat. At some point he moves even closer to her and his head is completely, undeniably on Luna's arm making her almost choke. He reaches for her hand in his sleep just having it between his fingers and doesn't move more, letting her try to guess what is happening here. Brunette eventually just sighs and allows him to do that as long as he's not acting like a freak psycho. She just tangles their fingers reading without a break and that's when she notices his glasses are off. There's no way she would look at him directly without moving him and it means waking up as well, but she wants to see if he's as cute without glasses as is wearing them. Or if she'd describe him with other adjective.

Matteo wakes up himself when she finishes the chapter four and shakes his head moving away.

“I was sleeping on your arm?” Luna just nods. “I'm sorry, I'm not that clingy and this was weird.”

“It’s fine,” she giggles. “I'm still surprised I didn't do the same. I probably will from now on knowing that I can.”

“I wouldn't mind that at all.” He chuckles and brunette watches him asking herself if he's flirting with her and why he looks so hot right now without glasses, his hair messier than earlier and this low deep voice after sleep.

Luna is torn between stating it's because pills with hormones she started taking few weeks ago are working or if it's because him being him that she wants to kiss him.

Probably both.

“Just go to sleep, Matteo.” Brunette smiles at him with a nod and maybe it works; he closes his eyes with lazy grin leaning against his seat and there's this cold place now where his head used to rest.

🌙

It's like fifth hour of the flight when they are wordlessly focused on their things as Matteo is still trying to do something with one song while drinking his coffee. Luna doesn't want to interrupt him even when questions are gathering in her head so she just looks at him from above her tablet.

“Luna,” he mumbles, “could you please not watch me with those eyes?”

Sigh leaves from between his lips and he closes the laptop making her feel bad. “I'm sorry, I just hate this book.”

Corner of his mouth curls up to lopsided smirk. “You want me to distract you? I can tell you statistics about plane sex if you want.”

Luna chokes on the water she was drinking before he said that, hard enough that she has to lean down to her knees as he starts giggling.

“Your face was perfect at the moment.” Another giggle leaves his mouth and she glares at him.

“If you want me to shut up and leave you alone, you had to just say that, not try to make me drown.”

He pouts leaning a little closer. “I don't want you to shut up. You are taking my jokes too serious. And I surely don't want you to drawn.”

“Fine, fine.” Luna murmurs with small sigh. “I'm going to nap.” She throws him a look before leaning against the wall again and she guesses that this tiny blink of disappointment in his eyes is just her imagination.

🌙

“Luna, hey, I need you.” Someone whispers straight into her ear and she jumps on her seat.

“What? What happened?”

“Sorry for waking you up.” Matteo smiles awkwardly. “But I need your help.”

“Okay I guess.” She yawns softly in her arm and turns to him blinking.

He bites on his lower lip taking all of her focus for a second. “I have a problem here and I'm not sure how to connect those two parts.” He slides his finger over the screen. “I don't knowing I should just put them together or fade in this shit. Can you tell me which works better?”

Brunette raises her eyebrows at him. “You know I'm not some fancy music judge?” He nods and she nods him back reaching for the earphone he gives her.

Both options sound good and Luna blesses her sleepiness, because damn this song and damn his voice but this is ridiculously good. She tries to act casual, but wouldn't she be Luna Valente if she kept her cool. “The first one. I mean this song is quick so I guess quick change works here.”

The smile he gives her could move the clouds away from sun's way. “Thanks, you're my hero.”

“If I'm your hero,” she starts, “is there any way you could send me that? I wanna listen more.”

Luna is sure she's seeing impossible, but there's tiny pink tint on his cheeks when she says that. That's super cute.

“As long as you don't sell it when I'm famous.” Matteo smirks making her roll her eyes.

“How much more do you have to do though?” Brunette asks curiously and he hums thinking. “We have six more hours to go so I'll probably be dying of boredom later, because I'm almost done now. I actually thought it would take more, but here you came to save me.”

“You're ridiculous.” She giggles and he chuckles

“But really, as your hero I want to listen more.”

“What do you want to listen?” He asks reaching for his phone.

“You.”

Smile on his face makes her sure she said it in wrong way. When he opens his mouth he just confirms that. “I can always talk to you.” Matteo mumbles with low voice leaning his face closer to her; close enough that their noses are touching now and Luna is surely going to die, without even getting to her destination.

“What would you even talk to me?” She asks not knowing why the fuck she's flirting back.

“I don't know, I'm sure that your boring book would be interesting while read with my voice.”

“You are so full of yourself, Matteo Balsano.” Luna shakes her head tapping his nose.

“That is called being confident and knowing myself, Luna whatever you last name is.”

She has to laugh in her pillow, because it would be definitely too loud. “Just give me the songs, please.”

“Oh, I surely will. You have to spread my blessing around the world saying that this is the great guy who entertained me during my flight to Heathrow, singing and making me shiver.”

“You know what, I don't want the songs now.” She sticks her tongue out at him.

He pokes her on the ribs. “Of course you do, I'm willing to send them to you, or more like copy by the cable since there’s no connection here.”

Luna sighs giving him her phone and watches him as he seems to perfectly know how it all works. Before she can blink he gives her her phone back lacing their fingers for a second by the way and he points at his cheek.

Brunette shakes her head taking out her earphones again, but he moves to her still showing his cheek.

“Will you leave me alone if I do this?”

“I will even let you sleep on my arm.” Matteo sends her a wink and she sighs before pressing her lips to his skin. He seems to be super smug after that, yet Luna just chuckles resting her head on his arm.

“Sweet dreams,” he mumbles into her hair with soft voice and she hides in his neck nuzzling slightly.

🌙

There's definitely too much sleeping in this position for one flight, but this time when Luna is slowly awake it's surely warmer. She can't move much, because his arm is around her shoulders pulling her closer and no matter how weird it feels, it's more comfortable so brunette decides to stay.

“You're comfy,” she whispers and hears his yawn.

“Of course I am. Go to sleep.”

“Matteo?” Luna asks softly and he hums her to continue. “Did you bump into me in Cancun few years ago or it's just me being paranoid?”

Neither of them opens their eyes when he takes deep breath moving his chest up. “If you were this clumsy delivery girl, then yes. And it was you who crashed into me.”

“You were stupid enough to make some tricks on the sidewalk for normal people.”

He chuckles pulling her hair a little. “Shut up or I'll tell you the statistics. They are really shocking.”

Luna growls into his neck. “How have I managed handling you for ten hours so far?”

“The better question is how did I manage handling you, little lady. You're demanding all of my attention like a puppy.”

“I'm sure you are the cat out of two of us.” She pouts against his skin and he trembles softly, surprising her.

“Yeah.” His voice shaky. “I'm the cat.”

🌙

“It wasn't that bad.” Luna exclaims as they are leaving their seats. Matteo only rolls his eyes mumbling something about not that bad for her, but she shrugs it off.

The cold hits her immediately after getting out of the plane and, to her surprise, he throws his jacket over her shoulders rubbing them a little.

He is waiting for her to get her luggage even if he got his own few minutes before (his suitcase completely fancy and expensive as hell of course). He even helps her to get it out of the line and walk away for her to gather herself together.

“I hope you won't get lost anywhere in England.” Matteo sends her wide grin.

“My best friend is waiting for me, ready to drive me straight to my dorm at uni now.” Luna shrugs with awkward smile.

“Bless them then. I have to go, because my idiot friend is texting me like stupid that he missed me.” He murmurs dismissing the call again.

“Yeah sure. Good luck with the homework.” She nods while he is playing with strap of her bag. “Wait, the jacket.”

“No, have it. I doubt I will need it more than Mexican girl in England.” Matteo shakes his head.

“How will I give it back?” Brunette frowns scrunching her nose.

“You know what they say,” he smirks at her charmingly. “What happened twice will surely happen for the third time.”

She looks at him speechless and with kiss in the corner of her mouth he's gone. Walking towards arrivals terminal with confident moves picking up his phone finally. Luna can only stare at his back wondering what just happened, why the hell she can't breathe and why the fuck she didn't kiss him when she had the chance.

🌙

Oxford is weird. Her new uniform is even weirder and lowkey uncomfortable, but she will get used to it soon. Luna happened to get scholarship because of her exam results and she got one of those fancy dorms with two rooms so she can close herself and scream when she needs.

Nina, her roommate seems very nice and Luna is already sure that she's the good kind of roommates, not the one stealing food from the fridge. Simonetti showed her around since she's been here few days longer and Luna was charmed with excitement in Nina's voice when they were entering the library.

Sadly she couldn't help Valente with getting her schedule and just said something about student council having all of them so Luna has to go and talk with older snobs to know what classes she has.

Not to mention getting lost around the campus. Shit.

She's walking through some big hallway, trying to avoid bumping into the people and cursing in her mind the tie in for choking her slightly. There's big lump in her throat when she knocks to the council's door and she has to take deep breath.

The place has few desks and seems more chill than everything Luna has ever seen here so far. There's dark blue couch by the window and people inside don't seem to notice her at first. She looks around seeing big board on the wall and there are some things written with fancy font. Next to it she notices big calendar with Oxford pics and Luna snorts softly. Brunette notices two girls plus Ámbar, Luna's cousin, what doesn't surprise her at all, and there's probably some guy leaning against the desk or sitting on it, but she can't see him since Ámbar is covering his face.

Luna clears her throat and the very second they all stare at her she chokes.

“Luna?” Both Ámbar and Matteo Balsano out of all people ask in the unison.

She smiles awkwardly waving at them and Matteo jumps off the desk taking his jacket by the way.

“Do you need anything?” His voice sounds almost concerned, but Luna knows he tries to keep his chill and act as casually as possible. According to Ámbar’s surprised look, he is failing big time. Not to mention he speaks Spanish, not English

“My friend told me you would give me my schedule.” Luna mumbles looking around, not sure why she's suddenly shy next to him. He nods slightly and goes to the shelves on the wall, taking some binder and flipping through it to find the right paper. Girls are staring at her with something in their eyes, bug they look away as soon as Ámbar sends them killing glare.

He looks definitely too serious to be the Matteo she had seen during the flight, but she doesn't want to think about it now not to be disappointed. In a second she has her schedule in her hands and with small thank you she wants to leave. He stops her though.

“I'll walk you to the class since the campus is a mess and you might get lost here.”

Luna nods waiting for him to put on his uniform jacket and he rests his hand on her waist when they are leaving the council's place.

Matteo stops just as soon as the door is closed behind. “Well,” he is suddenly smirking at her, not caring about everyone around staring at him. “It's nice to meet you again, Luna. Welcome to the University of Oxford.”

#soy luna #lutteo #luna valente #matteo balsano #my writing #hft

53 notes · View notes