#I keep staring at the way frames are positioned and the shades or lines are chosen

[prstmmprhdl]

Huh. I feel so stupid over how MUCH I love Trigun in general and Vash in particular. And, like, not even in a self deprecating way. I just think of him and I start to giggle or tear up, if anyone mentions my mobile background or my felted Vash, or the manga, or any other stuff I’ve surrounded myself by, I don’t brush it off, as I always have done, but start to tell them about it and have serious difficulty with stopping the outbursts. My husband literally asks “are you looking at Vash again” every time I smile at my phone (he’s correct most of the times).

I knew I had a tendency to hyperfixate on stuff, but this is something new for me.

As the meme says,

#trigun #trigun stampede #trimax #trigun maximum #I’m really not sure why I want to leave this pathetic cry here #I’m on volume 8 and this manga just keeps surprising me even though I know so many spoilers #I vibe with the art and the characters so much #I keep staring at the way frames are positioned and the shades or lines are chosen #I literally know nothing of art of drawing of composing #but it makes my wheels turn #the distorted faces of knives #the bags under Vash’s eyes #the shape of wolfwood #the way Meryl has changed and Milly stayed the same #the way they keep coming back as two mysterious figures #and not saving saving the day #but bringing hope back #they are Princess Leia I guess #another tale of a desert planet with many suns and moons #I literally can’t stop once I start talking about trigun #my thoughts just spiral into cosmos #or into the abyss

[tempvstas]

Hello Ash, I'm normally too shy to ask tho I wanted to request a scenario where the dorm leaders' crush is an artist and sketched them without their knowledge, only to give their finished work back to them as a gift. How would they react? I don't mind if it's a headcanon type list or a one shot (whichever works for you) nor do I mind if you got no ideas for a scenario like this. Thanks either way! ^_^

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Content Warning(s): none

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

Authors Notes: Hi nonny! I’m so honored that you were willing to reach out to me. I hope you like this!

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Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle willingly supports your artistic abilities! He thinks that having a hobby is a good thing. He knows that you’re an artist and that you spend a lot of your free time drawing and sketching. He doesn’t object to it as long as you’re maintaining your studies and keeping up with your homework.

So imagine his surprise when you show up with a sketch in hand and a slight blush on your face as you handed him your sketch of him.

The sketch itself is a simple portrait of him, hard at work. His arm is on the desk and the end of his pencil is on his lips. He looks deep in thought, frowning down at his work.

He’s in awe of the amount of detail you put into it and he wonders when you sketched it without him noticing. He’ll lightly scold you for not paying attention when you tell him that you sketched it during one of Professor Trein’s lessons, but regardless he’s still touched by your gesture and gladly accepts the sketch. 

His hands trace over the paper, running over all of the lines etched into it. He blushes a little at the thought that you were constantly staring at him while the two of you were in the lecture hall.

He’ll never tell you this but he actually ended up framing it and setting it on his desk in his room so that whenever he’s working on homework in his room, he’ll always be reminded of the little gesture that you did for him, and it further solidifies his undeniable feelings for you. 

Leona Kingscholar

He’s not too bothered by your abilities, as long as you don’t ask him to sit in a stiff position for hours on end as your reference. He gets plenty of that when he’s asked to post for royal portraits back home. 

He’s asleep a lot of the time, but he’s not oblivious to the stares that he gets from you when the two of you are in the botanical gardens together. He doesn’t care how long you stare at him, as long as you don’t disturb his sleep. If you do, be prepared to be used as his pillow as compensation for waking him up.

So imagine his surprise when you hand him a sketch that you did for him. It features him asleep, as usually, and he suspects that you had it done when the two of you were in the botanical gardens together. He’s mesmerized by the way you shaded in the sketch, making it seem as though the sunlight was dappling his skin and reflecting off of him.

He acts as though he isn’t surprised by you doing this and that he isn’t flustered at all, but in actuality, he’s pretty flustered. And if you look closely at him, you can see a faint blush on his face. 

He puts it away in a secure place, somewhere he knows that it won’t be stolen. Whenever he’s feeling out of it, he’ll pull it out and stare at it, with a subtle smile tugging at his lips. 

Azul Ashengrotto

When Azul first found out you were an artist, his train of thought immediately circled to how he could capitalize off of it. Keep in mind this is pre-OB, so he figured that you probably wouldn’t back down from letting him keep Ramshackle, so he could probably force you into working for him in exchange for letting you stay  in Ramshackle. Sound familiar?

Fast forward post-OB, instead of thinking about how he could get monetary gain from your abilities, he instead admires the dedication and hard work that you put into your art. 

He even commissions you, asking you to make some paintings if you’re willing so he can use it as decoration for Mostro Lounge. 

He’s caught off guard when you saunter into his office and hand him a sketch. The sketch being of himself. He’s flustered and embarrassed as he stares at it, questioning you when you had the time to make the sketch for him.

You tell him that you did it while the two of you were studying together, and true to your word, the sketch looks as though he’s busy writing something, his hand resting against his cheek. You tease him saying that he looked cute while he was studying and you couldn’t resist cause his cheeks looked very pokeable but you were too shy to lean over and poke his cheek.

Needless to say, after you told him that, Azul felt his heart flutter, hearing you, his crush, call him cute, but at the same time he wanted to hide into his octopot and never come out again.

He’s shy, but he actually has your sketch of him propped up on his desk. It’s only for his eyes, but one time, Floyd came in and saw it, and it was nonstop teasing from the Tweels from then on. 

Kalim Al-Asim

He appreciates all forms of creative abilities and actively supports you in your endeavors.

He gets excited for you when you tell him that you finally finished the hard and tedious piece of art that you’d been working on for hours on end after you got out of your classes. 

He’s somewhat oblivious to his surroundings so he doesn’t even notice when you constantly look at him, studying his features before gazing back down at your paper.

You hand him the sketch at one of the many feasts that he throws. He’s surprised by your gift, taking it in his hands and examining the sketch on the paper. 

You’re pretty nervous cause he’s not saying anything, until he breaks into a smile and throws his arms around you, telling you about how much he loves it. 

He really does love the sketch a lot and always keeps it folded up in his cardigan, it’s his good luck charm, he tells you, when you ask why he chooses to keep it there. 

Vil Schoenheit

This man is refined as hell and has a taste for the finer things in life. But he also has an appreciation for the arts. He understands that you’re a talented artist and he won’t stand in the way of you wanting to constantly improve on your skills, improving is something he also strives to do. So if you’re in need of a model to practice your skills on, he won’t mind sitting still for a while to let you observe him. 

When you hand him the sketch you did for him, he seems almost nonchalant about it, but really he’s genuinely flattered. A gift from you isn’t like a gift from all of his fans. 

You were a little nervous he would just take it and then put it somewhere never to see the light of day again, but to your surprise he laughs softly smiling at you.

He praises you for making the sketch and encourages you to draw more, and that he likes seeing your work.

He posts the sketch on his Magicam story and there’s a whole uproar over it with many of his fans praising your skills and some even going to follow your account to see more of your art. 

Idia Shroud

He’s so shy around you, he’ll never openly admit how much he admires your art. This man wants to talk to you so bad, and see if you would be willing to draw his favorite video game and anime characters but he’s too scared to say anything cause he feels like he’s gonna scare you away.

So when you hand him a sketch that you did for him, he feels like he’s going to implode, his face is all flushed and his hair is as red as a tomato.

The sketch is simple; it shows Idia at his desk gaming away, his gaze is focused like he always gets when he’s playing an intense match in one of his PvP games.  

He starts stammering and questioning you on why you would even willingly draw him, much less even draw anything for him.

You tell him that you drew the sketch of him as a show of appreciation to him, all with a smile on your face. 

He’s quite literally at a loss for words. Please get Ortho to help you cool him off, the top of his head is smoking. 

Malleus Draconia

He’s been around for a while, after all fae and human lifespans are so different. He’s seen plenty of art, and has seen how it evolved throughout the ages. He’s impressed by your works and could probably spend hours just staring at it.

He’s absolutely in love with the way you become so focused when you’re sketching out whatever’s caught your attention.

When he gets the sketch from you, he’s a little puzzled. Most of the time, people present him with gifts because he’s the crown prince of Briar Valley and they hope to gain his favor, but from what he can see, there’s no ill intent behind your gift. 

He gladly accepts it, his gaze softening as he looks down at you, a gentle smile on his face. To Malleus, this gift from you means more to him than any riches or extravagant items from far off lands that those who try to worm their way into his good graces. 

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#ashers requests #ashers writing #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #heartslabyul #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #savanaclaw #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #octavinelle #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #scarabia #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #pomefiore #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #ignihyde #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #diasomnia #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader

[dominimoonbeam]

Bite to Bruise - 27

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: modern-fantasy mashup, werewolves, witches, monsters, romance, learning to trust, hurt/comfort, blood, violence, explicit sex, explicit language

The earlier parts can be found under the tag or over on patreon. <3

BITE TO BRUISE - CHAPTER 27.

They’d been alone together for four days and Ever wasn’t sure he wanted the snow storm to stop.

He stood in the kitchen, making dinner, while she worked on the door they’d decided to use for an anchor to Ceres. He couldn’t explain what she was doing to someone else even if he tried. It was magic. It looked a lot like she was just staring, sometimes touching the air, sometimes scratching the wood frame. It looked benign, but he felt her magic in the air, clawing at his nerves. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to put up with anyone else doing that in his home.

The onions and mushrooms sizzled in the skillet.

His phone rang and he turned his head to frown at it on the counter.

The last time it rang had been Kai calling to tell him they needed to meet up and talk. It had been Kai luring him away from his territory, and Ever had gone because he had trusted him and believed his home was safe in the day. That naïve mistake still chafed.

He picked it up and looked at the screen. He didn’t know the number but answered, holding it to his ear and waiting.

“Ever Hayes?” a deep, silky voice asked.

Ever bared teeth at the shade even if he couldn’t see it. “Do I know you?”

“No, Mr. Hayes, you do not,” the shade assured. “And I’m sure we’d both like to keep it that way, but we seem to be inescapable bound together in a problem.”

Ever rolled his eyes. The way these assholes danced around topics was exhausting. They lied and thought if they just used enough words, they’d be able to hide it. “And what problem is that?” He moved the sizzling mushrooms and onions around in the skillet.

“Blackwell wants access to your side of the woods, and I will deliver it to her.”

“Oh, you’re Soren’s replacement,” Ever said, disinterested. Silence stretched with a satisfying weight. A nerve struck, maybe? “I’ll dig you a hole beside his grave.”

The silence took on an edge, somehow crackling in the line between them, but when the shade spoke, it was with the same sweet calm. “I am not here to make threats, Mr. Hayes. You were clearly underestimated in previous negotiations, and it is not my way to steal children for bargaining chips.”

“Should I be impressed that you, unlike the rest of your kind, don’t abduct kids? Does that make you a particularly good shade? What was your name again? I don’t think you want me calling you Soren II.” Ever expected the classic hiss of offense or click of teeth. He heard neither.

“Primrose,” the man said and, to Ever’s surprise, forwent the usual list of titles and lineage that all shades seemed to revel in reciting.

“And what is your way, Primrose?”

Another pause. Had he expected Ever to know it? “I am sure we can come to terms that are amicable for both parties,” he said rather than answering. There was a threat hanging in his simple words, like a promise that something neither of them would enjoy would follow if they could not come to terms.

“No,” Ever said. It was best to make things clear. He took the pan off the stove and set it aside. “I will not be dealing with Blackwell. She will not have any piece of my land, and if you or anyone else of her blood step foot on my territory, I will rip you to pieces and bury you alone in my dirt for the rest of time.”

“Mr. Hayes, I appreciate your candor and I understand your position,” Primrose said and sounded like he meant it. “But I have waged wars against your kind and won. I once had to kill an entire pack and bring down a village in flames just to dig up my kin under your ground. Four shades of my bloodline, not even names to my lips, but a song in their veins that calls to me. I understand the offense you feel at the game Soren played with your niece. I would have done the same in your position. But I am not an enemy you can best or frighten. I am going to deliver what Blackwell wants. Please, take the time to think about it and consider what you would like in return. I have no desire to war with your kind again, but do not mistake my willingness for peace as an inability to bring destruction. You may bury my kind, but they do not die. I can recover them. You cannot recover yours once I put them down.”

The shade hung up.

Ever put his phone down, rolling those words around over and over.

He didn’t think Primrose was bluffing about his experience or his willingness to go to war. Ever also believed that the shade meant it when he said he would rather not. He seemed to be the one brought in the fix the colossal fuck up Soren and Blackwell had made on their first attempt at forcing him out of his territory.

Had that silken-voiced shade really put down an entire pack? There were many stories from the wars about the shades, but Primrose wasn’t a name that sparked any memories of legends for Ever. That didn’t mean it couldn’t be true…

Ever picked his phone back up and called Theo.

The old fenrir answered on the fourth ring with a grunt. Ever smiled at the familiarity of it. “How’s the storm old man?”

“Same as it is every year,” he grumbled, shuffling around his house on his end of the call. “I can smell the magic in your house from here, even with the storm…”

Ever glanced toward the open doorway of the kitchen, in the direction of the hall and Sunny’s room where the witch was turning his closet into a portal. “We’re making a way to get to and from Ceres in seconds.”

There was a pause, like maybe Theo was considering whether or not he approved. “Like that portal she made when we attacked Kai?”

Ever leaned back against the counter. “Yeah, like that, but permanent. Something we can use whenever we want to.”

Theo huffed and Ever thought he might have let a smile out at the idea. “So, you’re sending Sunny and some of the pups over?”

Ever decided not to point out that those pups he was talking about were all grown. “If they want, but not until after the storm.”

Another pause stretched and Ever wondered if he’d made a mistake in calling. He’d always liked talking to Theo, it reminded him of talking to his dad, but Theo hadn’t agreed with him about the witch…

“It’ll be good,” Theo said. “If we can get back and forth from Ceres in seconds, we won’t really be dividing the strength of the pack… We can reach them, and they can reach us, right?”

“That’s the idea.”

Theo huffed another agreeable sound.

“I got a call,” Ever dove into the next part of this conversation. “Do you know of a shade named Primrose?”

Theo snorted, thinking, ceramic clanking on his end of the call. “Yeah. He’s Florian’s second. Her prince? Her brother? Whatever the fuck they call each other. Made by the same midnight.” Theo sighed. “He called you? I’d sort of hoped he’d faded… Haven’t heard about him since the wars.”

“Did you meet him?”

“No. I saw him once though. He was a general for the midnight Odinette. For the most part, Odinette was only interested in warring with the sunrisen, but some of her shades crossed a pack along the way and lost. That was when she sent Primrose to recover them. As far as I know, that’s the first and only time he’s been in Doglands.”

“Why haven’t I heard of him?”

“You have. We didn’t call him Primrose. We called him Odinette’s Word.”

That rang a bell, a vague memory of a monster in a story. Yes. The story of a pack being killed because the Word could not bend. He had been sent by his god and he would return with what she asked.

“Fuck…” Ever exhaled.

“He only dug up four shades,” Theo said. “There was a whole graveyard of those undead leeches, but after the Word killed the pack and burned the village, he only dug up his own. He left dozens in the ground, half-uncovered but still entombed, thumping and screaming for freedom. It was like they didn’t matter to him. He and his shades killed fourteen wolves and hundreds of humans just for those four.”

“Four shades of my bloodline, not even names to my lips, but a song in their veins that calls to me.” If he was telling the truth, he had done all of that for four he didn’t even know personally. Because they were his? Or because Odinette had wanted them back?

Did Blackwell’s wants matter as much to Primrose as Odinette’s?

“I heard he came the night before,” Theo added. “He met with the alpha of that pack to negotiate for the release of his midnight’s shades. I don’t know if it’s true or if he would have honored any treaty had they come to it, but the alpha turned him away.”

Ever pinched the bridge of his nose. So, there was no reason to doubt that Primrose would follow through on his warnings… And no reason to believe he would keep his word either.

“They say he has a sweet tongue but a sharp tooth.”

Ever snorted. “We all have sharp teeth.”

Theo huffed a laugh. “That we do.”

“So, any advice?”

The old fenrir thought on it before asking, voice almost a whisper. “Does he know about your witch?”

Ever tensed, not sure where this was going. “No.”

“Good. Keep it that way for as long as you can. We have a history of dying because of witches… but so do the shades. There’s a reason they’re so keen to own the magic-wielders. And Ever…that pack, the one the Word ended, they weren’t us. They weren’t you. I still think that if you can make a deal with them, you should. But if you can’t… if it’s not worth the cost or the risk, I’ll follow you into that battlefield and I’ll howl with pride when you silence the Word of Odinette.”

Ever shivered, surprised how much he’d needed to hear Theo say that he was still with him. “Thank you, old man.”

Theo huffed, seeming to be at the limit of his words for the day. Possible for the month.

“Have a good storm,” Ever said.

“Good luck with that door.”

Ever hung up first, his gaze going to the window. The complete white of the snowstorm made it glow, but beyond that haze, beyond the winds and the mounds of ice, stood the woods that divided his territory from Blackwell’s. He couldn’t give them any of it. They wanted it too badly and he couldn’t trust their motives.

Maybe after the storm, he’d send more than just Sunny, Oakley, and Leigh to Ceres. Maybe he’d send all the kids and the old, keep only the fenrir ready to fight, kill, and drive back the shades just like they had all the creatures that came from that deep woods.

#Bite to Bruise #werewolf romance #werewolf x witch #own world #own characters #modern fantasy world #<3 #dominimoonbeam #clover down #romance

[sardonic-the-writer]

━"Upping The Anti"

━Tw: Smut, sadism, knives, major talk of murder, ect. Its Anti and he's horny watch out /hj Also, reader is AFAB. It's simpler and more easy for me to write, although I don't explicitly describe them as such 24/7 through the smut part. Unprotected sex but dw it's demon dick so you ain't even gotta worry about being pregnant.

Summary:

The supernatural wasnt real. Magic was a cheep party trick; all smoke and mirrors to con people out of their money. Demons were a myth created by parents to scare little kids into eating their vegetables.

That's what (Y/n) thought. Untill they were caught up with a demon of their own, who dead set on getting his way.

━Notes: The long awaited ending of the series. Aka just smut

━Song: "Mind Brand" Kuraiinu, dj-Jo

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

It was all his fault. Goddamn Sean McLoughlin.

(Y/n) had realized where they recognized Anti from minutes after he left then frozen on the bed. The Irish accent, green hair, even the fucking ear piercings-

It was Jacksepticeye. Jack fucking Septiceye. The same person that sold coffee grounds and got scared shitless at video games that ran at two frames a second.

But it made no sense.

The more they thought about it the more it baffled them. How could a youtuber, especially one as popular as that, be a demon? Was Anti possessing his body? Had Jack created a demon? What kind of voodoo shit was going on here.

After finally gathering the courage to leave the protective ring of salt surrounding their mattress, they had made a bee-line for YouTube, frantically typing into the search bar to do some investigating.

But after an hour or two of watching this brown haired man yell at a camera for no reason, (Y/n) had no doubt in their body that this was not the evil being that had showed up in their room. Jack (Sean, Jack, whatever. They had heard Alex refer to him as both before. To them he was just the loud coffee man) was way too energetic and kind to be a murderous glitch.

He did have the same shade of blue eyes that Antis right one did though. Just looking at them made (Y/n) clench their jaw with a tight lipped frown, skin being pulled taunt.

They weren't scared, per say, of this bastard. But there's something about meeting an inhumane glitch that claims to be a god that puts one on edge.

Leaving their room was a tough process. They had opened the white door cracked and flaking with cheap paint just to stare out at the hallways beyond it. Bare feet tentivley touched the carpet outside only after (Y/n) had grabbed a handful of salt to keep in their shirts pocket.

The adult could practically hear Alex screaming at them to get spices and crystals. Holy water, crosses- anything and everything that has ever been known to ward demons off. But if those runes didn't work who knew what would. As Anti had said, as the internet progressed so did he. So who knew what would stop this.

(Y/n) was starting to understand people in horror movies. Especially the dumb ones that got killed off first.

Morbid curiosity is what this was. Morbid fucking curiosity; the feeling they got when they even got so much of a glance at a computer screen. Dread, but anticipation. Waiting for something horrible to lunge out of a screen. Expecting it. Wanting it

Probably the same feeling that a lot of those side characters in slashers experienced as they walked lazily to their death.

Yeah no more late night horror movies for them they had decided.

But it was this, along with the uncanny resemblance to Jacksepticeye, that led (Y/n) to this exact situation. Sitting on the ground in a criss cross position throwing artifical colored peices of candy from a box nerds they were munching on. More specifically aimed at their monitor.

Summoning Anti had been fairly easy the first time, if not unwanted and unexpected. This time they had the intention of doing it purposely. The only question was how.

Well judging based on the way a lanky form slid out of their computers binary code they were doing something right.

Antis (sadly familiar face) was twisted in an expression of annoyance as a nerd bounced off his nose and landed on the floor. He showed his greatfulness for that by lifting a combat boot clad foot and crushing it violently.

"Miss meh?" Was all he said, smiling at the reminants of what was once a mouthwatering nerd on the floor. (Y/n) swallowed thickly, hoping that Anti assumed it was from a mouthful of candy and not nerves.

"Sure. I totally missed the guy that broke into my house and threatened me." They mumbled with a squint of their eyes. This only made him smile larger, eye brows practically dissapearing gleefully into his hairline as he raised them.

"Yer a lot more talkativ' tan last tihme." He said with pleasure, thoroughly enjoying this. Leaning back on the balls of his feet Anti rested two fidgety hands on the inside of his jean pockets. Multicolored eyes bounced every which way observing every inch of the room; and (Y/n). They almost got caught up watching them move around.

"I have some questions." They said popping another handful of tart candy into their mouth. The sound of the individual peices bouncing off their teeth made Antis elvish ears perk up. He turned to face them fully this time, a smug smile settling comfortably onto his lips.

His eyes challenged them to go on without even saying anything, sending jolts of stubborn intentions and defiance down their spine.

(Y/n) stood up slowly, setting down everything so they were eye to eye with him. Chewing on the inside of their cheek nervously, they looked at the latest cause of all their problems and opened their mouth to speak.

"Jack." Was all they had gotten out before the atmosphere changed significantly. A loud static sound penitrated their eardrums, Antis one blue eye flashing what almost looked like green before it withered away with the noise. His hair was spiked up, teeth bared and hands curled into fists.

Since when did he have claws?

"Mention tha fooker again an I'll tear ye spleen out of ye throa' and make ye lihmp body jum' rope with it." He said in a wisper. But it might as well have been a screech for (Y/n) with the way they barely winced.

Working around a throat full of cotten, they wetted their lips shakily before speaking.

"Oh yeah?"

God fucking damn it.

They couldn't just keep their mouth shut couldn't they

But could you blame them? This green tinted bastard had been terrorizing them for weeks, making them feel insane and like they were loosing their mind.

They felt they deserved a little bit of payback. Or whatever you called this.

"Ye think yer smart? That yer the powerful ohne in this situatiohn?" Anti snickered, eyes open and boring straight into (Y/n)s. It was a dangerous stare off between two people who weren't planning on backing down.

"Oh doll, yer anythin buht powerful right now." He continued as they watched him step closer.

"I cahn smell yer fear."

Another step.

"It's even mhore delicious than last tihme."

Another step.

"Buht I can smell somethin else too."

He was almost touching them now, nose mere centimeters away from their own. (Y/n) breathing stood to a still when they realized what he was talking about.

Through a hazy mind and fast paced heartbeat they remembered what that artical they had read forever ago said.

"-ese demons in particular feed off fear and lust, as those two are the most prominent actions that pop up online. Do not show any signs of them if and when the demon appears-"

Anti looked downright gleeful as he witnessed it dawn on (Y/n). Observing with malicious joy as their eyes got wide and hands flew to clutch the fabric of their pants.

How they realized he could feel the lust radiating off of them.

"I told ye that I knehw ye wahnt me (Y/n). I've seen ye fooked up search history. Been watchin ye ever since ye called for me weeks ago."

He taunted them. Spilling all of the things he had seen them do. How often he had watched them stroll around the house barely in any clothes, unaware of the lustful eyes watching them.

Some of the things Anti said made (Y/n)s face flush with anger and embarrassment. Even I can't repeat them.

"Ye still think yer powerful?" He purred next to their ear. He was daring them; practically begging them to take the next step. To walk right into his arms. Like a fish swimming circles around a shark.

And so they did.

They took that dare and leaned forward slightly.

Right outside the ring of salt.

In a flash of green and black, they were thrown against a wall, hands held behind their back as if they were being arrested for a fictional crime. It was too fast for them to even realize what had happened. All they knew was that one second they had been looking into one green and one blue eye, and the next their cheek was pressed flush against the wall as someone pressed up against them from behind.

(Y/n) felt the color drain from their face as a knife came into view right next to their head. It acted as a sick rearveiw mirror, showing a grinning Anti from behind.

"Ohhh ye 'ave no ideah how long I've been waitin for ye to do that." He cooed, tracing the knife down the side of the wall, leaving a path of cut and peeling wallpaper behind.

A small voice in the back of (Y/n)s head made a comment about how they never liked that color wallpaper anyway.

They told it to shut up.

Cool metal from the flat of the knife pressed against their throat. They had to resist the urge to swallow, fearing that a slice rivaling Antis would appear on their neck to spill blood.

(Y/n) listened through the blood pounding in their head as Anti slowly debated if they should kill them right here. Oh how would he do it, the ways he could watch the life drain from their eyes while licking their blood off his precious knife.

At a particularly suggestion he muttered to himself, they had let out the quietest of noises. But Antis sharp ears still picked it up, neck looking like it would break as be turned it quickly to look at them.

"Ahre ye-" He paused to smile largely, canines glinting in the reflection of the knife. "-enjoyhing this?"

The lack of response said it all.

"Oh my ghod ye arhe!!" Giggles spilled from him mouth as five calloused fingers gripped a knifes hilt tighter.

"I knew ye were fooked up, but this? This takes ta cake!"

With every word that came out of his mouth a wave of rolling shame washed over them. Along with the urge to rear back their leg and knee him in the dick.

The knife left (Y/n)s vision slowly, only for the sharp pressure to reappear right where there the tip of their waistband was.

Air burned the inside of their nose as they inhaled sharply. The pressure only increased, the tiniest sounds of fabric ripping eliciting a laugh from Anti.

"Ya smell positively delectable righ' now pet." The crook of his nose had pressed itself again an exposed part of their neck. Along with that came the feeling of a tounge kicking a slow strip all the way up to the shell of their ear.

(Y/n) bit their own tounge, holding back a shudder that for sure would have gotten them nicked by the object currently being used to slowly tear away at their waistband.

The thing was, they didn't feel conflicted about this at all. Carnal urges pumped throughout their body. They wanted to say it was some sort of demon charm lulling them into these sinful feelings, but they knew that wasn't true.

Finally the stretch of elastic wrapped snugly around their waistline was split in two with the slight effort of Anti flicking his knife upwards.

This time (Y/n) couldn't stop a sigh of pleasure from slipping out as cool air from nearby fans blowing hit the wet spot on their underwear.

A slender finger danced across the curve of their ass, dragging along a thin layer of cloth sensually. Their arms were no long pinned behind their back now. They were free to leap for the circle of salt again and into safety.

But instead they leaned back into Antis teasing touch more.

Wispers of whore and slut left his lips condescendingly. (Y/n) couldn't bring themself to feel the anger they normally would have at these degrading titles being tossed their way. If anything it made them wetter knowing how unbelievably lewd they were acting for someone so evil.

More air was inhaled as they gasped suddenly. A finger was plunged into their hole without warning, reaching into those deep parts of them that would reduce them to a babbling mess.

"Fuck fuck fuck." Sweaty palms pressed themselves flat against the wall in an effort to have some means of support. Antis knife made a cold trail down the back of their cotton shirt, shredded fabric and a pink line across their skin left in its wake.

(Y/n) was now leaning against the wall with their hands and head pressed against the wall, small moans and pants coming out of their mouth as ruined clothes formed a crumpled pile where the floor ended and wall began.

Anti let out a groan of his own as they accidently brushed their ass against his clothed crotch. They felt his growing arousal again their skin, lips managing to turn up into a mischief smile even in the midst of all this.

Pressing back against him even more, a swift hand was quick to stop that. Flipping (Y/n) over and enclosing a strong grip around their throat Anti growled at them darkly, eyes flashing dangerously. Not like they could tell with how their vision was clouding up.

"Do tha again-" He leaned down to nip right at their collar bone, finger still deep inside their hole tantalizingly "-an I'll leave ye high n dry untill next tihme."

At the promise of a next time they wiggled slightly in an effort to get his finger to hit that one spot. But he just squeezed tighter, making them moan.

"Fooking learhn some goddamn maners." He snarled with blown pupils.

Thank god that (Y/n) had taken their time searching for a soft bed when looking for a new mattress all those years ago. Otherwise the way that Anti threw them onto it might very hurt.

Sheets bunched up around their body that was radiating heat. Anti climbed over them, trailing fingers wet with their own slick up their chest.

"Lhook at meh." He barked. (Y/n)s eyes snapped to him immediately, finally getting a good look at him for the first time since this visit.

He had shed his clothes, the only scrap of clothing left on him a pair of plain black boxers streched around his straining cock. Although they doubted those would stay on for much longer.

Vibrant green hair stuck his forhead in a way that couldn't be described in any other way than attractive. It was tangled and wet with sweat, perhaps a little blood if you squinted close enough. They didnt remember bleeding-

Tattoos trailed over his lean arms craftily. They told stories of death and fear. Faces of pleasure and despare, sometimes even both, were permanently engraved into his flesh. Appropriate considering who was hovering over them. It made (Y/n) wonder if they even had tattoos in the demon realm, or wherever the fuck he was from.

"I own you." Anti hisses, lowering himself down slightly to leave hot, opened mouth kisses on their skin. With the way he was nipping and sucking at them, there were sure to be marks in the morning. It was for that fact that (Y/n) dutifully tilted their head back to expose more of their neck.

"After this-" More possessive kisses were placed harshly onto skin. "-all ye are gonnah be able te think of is meh."

A jolt went through their whole body as Antis hand dropped down to their sex, cupping it lightly and teasing the sensitive flesh there.

(Y/n) let out moans that were far more loud than the ones before. A brief worry about the neighbors hearing flashed in their mind before it was quickly tossed out as Anti swiped the rough pad of his thumb over their sensitive bud.

Trembling hands managed to reach outwards and brush lightly over the bulge in his boxers, making Anti glitch slightly and hiss out a string of curses from inbetween his teeth. (Y/n) took that as a sign to continue, slipping a hand into his pants and wrapping around his throbbing cock.

The angel was a bit awkward, bit neither of them seemed to care. Anti was too busy letting out what sounded like curse words in a language (Y/n) didn't recognize to notice, and the latter was bathing in the feeling of their clit being stroked harshly.

Pulling back for a moment Anti left them on the sheets to quickly slip off his boxers. His cock sprang out from the confines, making the counterpart on the bed hault.

He certainly wasn't longer than some of the other men that had managed to bed them before, but he was thicker. And what seemed to be long veins painted lines up and down his length; except instead of blue they appeared to be tinted black. The same color of pre-cum that was currently leaking from the tip.

He saw them looking and managed to chuckle as he took his position back over them.

"Demon cum, pet." He purred with a grin. "You'll becohme addicted ta it soon enough. Wont be ahble to get enough of myh cock."

(Y/n) felt even more warmth travel down to their stomach, which at this point they would have thought to be impossible.

Anti positioned himself at the entrance of their hole, looking like they were just about ready to devour them.

Before he made another move though, a quiet sentence made its way out of his lips.

"Tahp my thigh three times if s too much."

As soon as you had nodded back at him with wide eyes, he pushed himself in.

Never had (Y/n) had the sensation of being so full.

It was like they had been molded for him. Created so that way he could fill them perfectly, stretching their insides to the point of perfection.

Loud moans that sounded like they had been plucked straight out of a porno escaped from the back of (Y/n)s throat. Anti moaned as well, letting out occasional exclamations in that same strange language as earlier.

"Fuck! Anti, please, please don't stop oh god." They practically yelled at the demon. His erratic thrusts sped up getting sloppier and and sloppier as the both of their pleasure increased.

(Y/n) arched their back with a low groan as the curve of his duck hit that one spongey spot inside of them. Anti himself let his eyes roll back, moaning.

After that discovery it was all over for the both of them. (Y/n) attempted to form a coherent thought through the waterfall of drool that spilled from their lips.

"Anti oh fucking fuck I think I'm gonna cum-!"

With one final snap of his hips, Anti let out the most guttural moan that they had ever heard from him, much less anyone else.

Their release wasn't an explosion or even fireworks. It was a slow spread of buzzing, un measurable pleasure making its way sluggishly throughout their entire body. Like it had the viscosity of honey. It was unlike any orgasm they had ever felt before.

Limbs tangled in each other wildly as the sweaty, yet smirking, demon flopped onto the side of the bed next to (Y/n). He took a clawed finger and placed it under their chin, chest rumbling with a sly purr as he turned their head to look at him.

"I look forwarhd to tha day yhoure beggin me on yhour knees to absolutely wreck you again." He smiled with dark eyes.

The last thing (Y/n) saw before their eyelids fluttered shut was Anti tracing small lines up and down their neck

That's it. That's the end of Carnal Urges. I hope you enjoyed just as much as I did writing this. The fic started as a good way to get my creativity out but turned into a way for me to smile even in the midst of one of my family members dying.

Thank you all for sticking through this with me. The next chapter will just be answering any questions about this fic and/or AU you have. So send in questions, anon or not, to my inbox and watch them get featured in the final chapter.

Thank you and good day <3

Edit: Excuse any typos. I spent five straight hours writing this non stop and did not feel like editing before I crashed for a nap. Will be fixed later. Thank you for your patience

#anti x reader #anti #antisepticeye x reader #antisepticeye #jack #jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye x reader #jack x reader #septic ego x reader #septic ego #septic egos x reader #septic egos #septic #egos #egos x reader #ego #ego x reader #fanfic #(y/n) #x reader

[how-masterful]

31 Fics of Fright

Day 26- Set The Night on Fire

Delgado!Master X Reader

Prompt: Nightfall

Notes: And today on Masterful writing fics about situations she wishes were real. If only fireworks were eco-friendly, didn’t scare dogs, and also were alive with alien capabilities... a girl can dream.

Warnings: None

The Autumn on Mulcero was a thing of legend, according to the Master’s delighted description as he walked you down towards the perfect viewing spot. He’d been insistent on bringing you here, framing it as a reward for your dedication to him, but you knew otherwise. You’d taken a cheeky look at what he’d been reading up on in the TARDIS- he’d tailored this to your most perfect preferences. He’d been planning this for weeks.

The hill was a short incline, the Master keeping a gentle hand to steady you as you made your way down to the clearing. It was positioned high above the bay, overlooking the views of the swirling, glimmering waters and the bustling streets below. The village was decorated for the harvest season, streets lined with banners and lanterns, pumpkins hanging freely in the trees, shop windows decorated with cartoon witches and vampires.

You’d enjoyed a slice of pie from the largest pumpkin that year, washing it down with a glorious warm apple cider, the hot liquid sliding down your throat like liquid gold. Apparently, the bounty had been incredible this year, the soil producing the most incredible produce they’d ever seen. The Master looked awfully proud at that, raising your suspicion at his knowing grin. You suspected he had something to do with it all, the way he was encouraging the villagers in their celebrations.

The village was alive with energy, the celebrations taking over what felt like the majority of the land. You couldn't help but smile at the wonderful stands of artisanal goods, the joy that flourished in the air. You could always appreciate somebody enjoying the Autumn. It was your most beloved season after all.

The Master had kept to a schedule, guiding you up the hill to the beauty spot with enough time to see the last wisps of twilight. The sky had melted into a vivid rainbow of warmth, the gorgeous blue shifting into a richly vivid orange, the deep red bleeding into a deep and potent violet, then purple, then the most comforting shade of navy. The sky was alight with power, the shimmering stars of the distant galaxy poking through the atmosphere, twinkling and blinking like rhinestones in the velvet of the night. Down below the villagers had lit a great bonfire, burning wood and carving pumpkins, laughing in merriment, tipsy on wine. You leant against the Master's shoulder as you sat on a blanket up on the hill, pointing down at the celebrations curiously.

“Master?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“I know you have a plan but… can I ask why we’re not down there?”

The Master smiled, taking your pointing hand into his own and patting the back of it fondly. He gazed at you with the same knowing expression. It spoke of trust, in both the plan and himself.

“Because this is the position we need to be in tonight, my dear girl. The last of the celebrations should be observed from the highest of places.”

“Why?”

He tapped the back of your hand, your curiousness inspiring. You relented, sinking into his side and following his hand, gazing up at the sky.

“You’ll see.”

After a short while more of celebration and small talk, you noticed the villagers had begun to sit in circles, laying back and staring up at the sky in anticipation. You did the same, laying back down against the grass, hand intertwined within the Master's grip. You watched the sky, waiting in mystery, for whatever it was that had excited both the Master and the villagers to appear.

It started slowly, the last of the purple sky slipping away behind the horizon, giving way to the blanket of navy and the pitch black of the night. From where the purple had disappeared, small tendrils of orange and red began to snake their way through the sky, dancing around every twinkling ball of gas, aiming right into the heavens.

Your eyes widened as the tendrils began to circle and spark, more and more appearing in the night sky. They twirled and exploded before merging together, the colours setting the night aflame as they separated into the most incredible shapes. The tendrils had taken new form, pumpkins and leaves and crops, the purple weavings its way into the shape of bats and broomsticks, a slither of green shaping itself into a witch’s hat, a shooting star of white creating the most wonderful shape of a ghostly apparition.

The colours continued to manifest within the sky, swirling and jutting and sparking into shapes and moving pictures. They seemed to you like the northern lights, colours gliding like fireworks across the sky, painting themselves into still life's and portraits of seasonal fun. You couldn’t look away, the incredible sight before you engulfing your vision. The Master was chuckling, his attention occasionally slipping to peer at you from the corner of his eye. You were transfixed, amazed by the natural wonders that were currently making a vampire in the sky.

“How… why…” You whispered, reaching up towards the sky in awe.

“It’s the planet,” the Master replied. “It’s celebrating the season.”

“The planet?” You gaped, eyes following the flurry of bats across the horizon.

“Yes, the villagers have had a successful harvest. The planet is celebrating, thanking them for their good work.”

“The planet is alive?”

“Of course. It’s been like this for centuries. Although I must admit, they’ve never been this successful. A new fertiliser, I heard a chap in the village square say.”

Slowly, the pieces began to fall into place. The successful autumn, the harvest, the celebration, the Master’s knowing look. You’d been so curious why the Master had travelled somewhere and insisted you not leave the TARDIS. You thought you finally knew why.

“Did you do this?”

Your voice was soft, almost a whisper. The Master turned to meet your eyes; your attention finally pulled from the glowing lights in the sky. He seemed apprehensive, as if he was unwilling to say what was about to pass his lips. You smiled, so genuine and adoring, your hand reaching to caress the side of his face. Your thumb brushed against the scruff of his salt and pepper beard, his eyes so old and wise and powerful. This was a man who had changed a whole world just to make you happy.

“Thank you, Master.”

You saved his breath, already knowing what he wished to say. The Master nodded, before turning back to face the sky.

“Ah, what a wonderful skeleton. How striking.” He mused, pointing at the sky.

 You giggled, sighing contentedly as you turned to watch the light show, your heart filled with a new and indescribable feeling of warmth. You inched closer to the Master's side, gaze following his fingertip. 

He was right. The skeleton was indeed wonderful and striking.

#Delgado!master x reader #delgado!master #roger delgado #The Master #the master x reader #master x reader #doctor who #bbc doctor who #bbc dw #bbc #doctor who fanfiction #doctor who fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #reader #halloween #fireworks #nightfall #31 fics of fright

[wil-is-done]

Otherworld - Chapter 3: Hide

Summary: This isn’t fair. Her number hit zero. It’s supposed to be over. She’s supposed to be home.

Word Count: 6.025

-

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a repost.

Luz tensed, a hand reaching for the owl staff when she heard footsteps approaching beyond the door. When the click of the doorknob followed, she relaxed. If that was anyone other than Anne, they’d be screaming in pain right now.

“Luz, I found someone.” 

Her heart leapt to her throat. She jumped to her feet, scrambling and stumbling around the fire pit to the front door. Found someone? Could it be? Willow? Amity?

Anne stood in the small corridor connecting the door to the living room. Her eyes were alight like twin orbs of blue flames. The golden hilt of her trusted sword peeked over her shoulder like a loyal companion. A hefty burlap sack was tied across her chest, fitting the width of the corridor, and she acted as if it weighed nothing at all. However, most striking of all, her arms carried a frail, battered girl that Luz has never seen before.

Her skin was pale white, almost sickly, almost like a porcelain doll. The green jacket hugging her body barely qualified to be considered a jacket anymore, so damaged was its state. A mess of red hair framed a sharp face worn down by turmoil and exhaustion. Brown eyes stared at Luz through a pair of cracked glasses, piercing yet nervous.

A pang of disappointment struck Luz’s heart, and she hated it. She just hoped it didn’t show on her face.

“Oh god, you poor thing.” Luz gasped. She stepped back, motioning Anne further inside. “Quick, put her down on the couch.”

Anne and Luz moved quickly. Luz cleared up the clutter around the couch - mostly her papers, her cape, and the owl staff - and rearranged the cushions for the girl to comfortably lie down on. Anne circled the fire pit in the middle of the living room and gently lowered the girl onto the couch, but kept a hand supporting her back while Luz slid the girl’s backpack off of her. Luz placed the backpack in the corner for now, next to Anne’s backpack, as Anne helped the girl settle into the most comfortable position she could manage. 

Luz and Anne took a step back, watching the girl recline further, sinking into the cushions. She really looked like she needed it. No, deserved it. 

“Where did you find her?” Luz whispered. The last thing she wanted was to disturb the girl.

“The jungle,” Anne replied, whispering too. Her eyes have returned to their natural color.

“You were in the jungle? This late at night?” Luz whipped her head to face Anne, her voice rising without her meaning to.

Anne never met her eyes. Her gaze was locked on the girl. “Yeah, yeah, chew me out later. This girl needs your magic heals and she needs it now.”

Good point. Anne could take care of herself. Luz knelt by the girl with her best bedside smile. “Hey,” she began, catching the girl’s attention, “can you tell me where it hurts?”

“Um, cuts and bruises on… everywhere. I think I dislocated my left arm. Might have sprained my right arm. Wouldn’t be surprised if I broke a few ribs too.” The girl’s eyes wandered lazily down her body, as if reluctant, lingering on each part, reliving the memories.

Luz tried to keep her smile, but found it harder and harder to do with each injury the girl listed. “You’ve been through the wringer,” was all Luz could say, half-smiling and half-cringing.

The girl made a small noise and a weak shrug. Yeah, fair enough. Luz wouldn’t know how to respond to that either.

“Alright, first, let’s take that jacket off.” Luz reached for the zipper of the girl’s jacket, and remembered something important. “I’m Luz, by the way.”

“Tulip.”

Awww. “Tulip. That’s a lovely name.”

A faint shade of red stained Tulip’s pale cheeks. She didn’t hear that often, Luz could tell. But now, back to business. 

Luz zipped the jacket open and worked together with Tulip to shed the garment from her body without ruining it even further. She tried to not cringe - or at least not cringe too hard - as two jagged, red lines running along Tulip’s triceps and an ugly, purple blotch on her underarms were exposed for the world to see. A low, sharp hiss came from Anne’s direction, which, yeah, so it wasn’t just her. As bad as the wounds were to look at, they’re probably the easiest to deal with. She’d have to take a closer look if Tulip really did break a few ribs. That left her with the arms. 

“Let’s start with… undislocating your left arm.” 

“That’s- do you know how?” Tulip’s eyes darted to the arm in question, nervous. 

“Yeah, of course!” Hope no one noticed how her voice went up by a pitch at the end there. “My mom’s a nurse. I picked up a few things from her. I mean, I must have. That’s a thing that happens, right?” 

“Dude.”

Yeah, that’s not helping her nerves any, Anne. “Yes, yes, I can do it, just- trust me!” 

Luz fetched her marker from the pile of gear she’d set aside, as well as a decently-sized piece of paper. This was going to be a complicated one. 

Luz felt the eyes watching her as she sketched line after line onto the paper. Butterflies fluttered from the pit of her stomach to lift her heart to the stars, as she realized, this was another opportunity to show someone the wonders of magic for the first time. She remembered perfectly the moment she lifted the veil for Anne. The wonder in Anne’s eyes, the rapid, anxious beating of her own heart, the way time itself seemed to freeze; the moment was, well, magical. 

The glyph was done. Luz looked up to see Anne smiling and Tulip staring in a mix of confusion and fascination. She addressed Tulip with that bedside smile again.

“Can you turn around and lift your shirt? I need to apply this directly to the skin.”

Tulip flitted between the paper in her hands and Luz. “Apply… the paper?”

“Hey, what did I just say? Trust me.” The bedside smile might have turned a tad smug, but what the heck, she’s all giddy now. 

Tulip’s movement was slow, but she’s still moving, scooting slightly in her seat so that her back was facing Luz and hiking the back of her shirt halfway up, revealing more ugly red lines and blotches of purple on her pale white skin. Luz will deal with them shortly. The arm was priority number one. 

Luz slipped the paper under Tulip’s shirt to press it against the back of her left shoulder blade. Tulip craned her neck around, trying for a good look of what’s happening. Luz offered her a reassuring nod.

“Now. Hold still.”

Luz tapped the glyph. The paper was set alight in the deep blue colors of the Healing Coven, before dispersing, converted into a healing wave that seeped into Tulip’s body. At the same time, Luz gauged the amount of pressure she needed, and pushed against Tulip’s shoulder blade. She heard a snap, as she felt the bone settling into its proper place, and a gasp escaped Tulip’s lips. Was that a good thing?

“Did that do it?” Luz immediately withdrew her hands. “Oh god, please tell me that worked. Please tell me I didn’t mess you up. Are you better? Worse? Average?”

Tulip breathed deep, once, twice, before answering, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m… better, actually.” 

All the tension in Luz’s body was released with a sigh of relief. She had never used a healing glyph to fix a dislocated bone. Good to know it could be used that way. Tulip gingerly rubbed her left shoulder, giving her left arm an experimental spin. She must still be feeling the healing wave working its magic in her body. Luz knew the sensation well - a steady wind, crisp and chilly like on an autumn morning, weaving its way through the nooks and crannies inside you. It took some getting used to. 

“Wh- what was that? What are you doing to me?” Tulip’s voice pitched higher, faster. Luz motioned for her to calm down.

“Healing glyphs.” Luz leaned back to sit cross-legged on the floor. “I know, it feels a little weird, but it’s a good weird. Once the feeling’s passed, you’ll be feeling fitter than a fiddle.” 

“Glyphs?” Tulip paused, swallowing the word that just left her mouth. “Like… magic? Magic glyphs?”

“You know the line about Kansas and how you’re not in it anymore?”

Tulip stared blankly, then shrugged. “Well. Okay.”

But the way she shrugged must have grazed one of her bruises, because she flinched and hissed right after. Tulip gathered up a few healing glyphs that she’d pre-drawn beforehand. For minor wounds like these, the simpler ones should do. She gently coaxed Tulip’s arm closer and carefully laid a glyph over a bruise.

“It works like this, see? I put it on your wounds, and boop!” Luz tapped the glyph. The paper was converted to a deep blue healing wave. Tulip’s eyes went wide with wonder. The scars and bruises were gone within seconds. It never gets old. “All better. A few more should do it.”

“That’s incredible,” Tulip breathed, turning over the healed arm, taking in the spotless patch of skin.

Awww. That got Luz feeling a little bashful. “Thanks. I still have a lot-”

“No, this is groundbreaking.”  

“Eh?”

“You can cure wounds with just a piece of paper and a marker? Imagine the resources you could save! All the time and effort needed to make all these different bandages and ointments for all these different cuts or burns or welts, they can all be-!”

“Whoa, rein those snails in for a sec, Bill Nye.” Anne stepped forward and coaxed Tulip, firmly yet gently, to lie back down on the couch. Luz never noticed until now, but Anne had been hovering nearby the whole time, watching over them like a mother hen. She hadn’t even bothered untying the sack from her back. “Remember how you almost lost a race with an elephant from Hell?”

Tulip returned to a reclining position, her cheeks gaining this really cute shade of red that matched the hair framing her face. Luz promptly got to work healing the rest of her wounds, on her other arm, on her legs, on her back. Her ribs weren’t broken after all, thank god. Just more bruises, which were quickly taken care of. Luz wished she could do something about Tulip’s cracked glasses, though. She doubted her healing glyphs could work on glass. Maybe she could scour the other rooms tomorrow, see if she could find any glasses similar to Tulip’s.

Anne knelt beside Luz once she’s finished, so that she’s at eye level with Tulip. 

“So? Better?” she asked. 

“Much better.” Tulip nodded. And gifted them both a very cute, dimpled smile. “Thank you.” 

Awww, she got a cute smile from a cute girl. What a great way to end the day. But Luz was only happy to help. Anne finally relaxed for the first time since she entered the room, too. She stood up to do an unwinding, full body stretch, which, good thing she did. Luz was getting worried she might end up burning the sack still tied to her on the campfire. 

“Hey, you want something to eat? I’m gonna make something. I’m kinda hungry.” Anne rambled, not really waiting for answer from Luz or Tulip.

Luz raised an eyebrow. She knew Anne had an appetite, but dang. “You already had dinner.”

“And it’s time for the sequel! Dinner 2: Munch Squad. Coming to a plate near you.” Anne marched off down the corridor towards the kitchen, still fully armored, still with that sack on her back.

Luz shook her head, and plopped down on the floor with her back to the couch. Nice of the calm to start settling again. Tulip seemed to be appreciating it too - really taking in her surroundings for the first time.

The apartment wasn’t much, but it’s still more than enough. They probably could have found a better place to take shelter in somewhere in the city, but the second Anne saw a dabbing building, there was nothing Luz could have done. 

This living room was probably the biggest room in the apartment, so they tend to leave most of their stuff here. Luz’s things - meaning her papers, her pen and markers, her cape, and the owl staff - had all been shoved into one corner in the rush, so she set to work disentangling the mess. Anne’s pink backpack sat in a different corner, next to Tulip’s, and next to a sword and a crossbow - Sasha’s and Marcy’s. A couch and two easy chairs circled a low table, except Anne had thrown the table out, literally, out the window. In its place was a crackling fire pit, which, must be a little jarring to see in the middle of the living room. With no electricity, they had to do something about the heating, and the lighting. Orbs of light gently float near the ceiling of every room in the apartment. 

Speaking of. Down the hallway, the door to the bedroom and bathroom stood opposite of each other. The bedroom has a double bed that you could just melt into, and though it’s a perfect fit for two, Luz and Anne rarely shared it, since Anne decided they should take their rest in turns. The bathroom has no running water because, again, no electricity, so they have to go to a water source nearby every few days. A little further down the hallway is a well-furnished kitchen, where the sounds of Anne’s early prep for a meal could be heard. The hallway led to a small balcony, overlooking a few smaller buildings and a dried up canal.

Yeah, all in all, not a bad spot.

“Luz?”

Luz blinked. Oh cramity, was Tulip trying to talk to her this whole time? “Hi, yes! Sorry, I kinda zoned out.”

“I-It’s okay. Um.” Tulip twiddled with the hem of her shirt. “So. Magic exists, huh?”

Luz reached for the owl staff. The comforting weight and feel of the wood on her fingers brought a smile to her lips. A smile that she shared with Tulip. “Believe it or not.”

“At this point? I’m willing to believe anything.” Tulip smiled too, but hers was more on the dry side. The light in her eyes flickered, like she just remembered something. “What about Anne, with her eyes? Is that magic too?”

Right. She’s seen the eyes too. Luz shrugged. “Guess so. Not the same kind of magic as mine, though.” 

Luz bit the inside of her cheeks. It’s… a good thing Tulip brought up the eyes. She’d wanted to talk about it with someone, get a few things off her chest. Someone who wasn’t Anne. She stole a quick glance towards the corridor. Anne might still be a while getting the food ready. Might as well, right?

“It’s a… little unsettling, isn’t it?” she started, carefully, keeping her voice low. “Her eyes? When it gets all glowy like that?”

Tulip definitely noticed how she lowered her voice. Maybe even the nervous edge in them. “A little bit, I guess. Human eyes generally don’t glow, blue or otherwise,” she answered. “But I’m- hm. It doesn’t really bother me that much? Compared to… everything else I’ve seen. I think it’s kinda cool, actually.”

Yeah. Luz was ready for a response like that. She tried to play it cool with a nod. It really was a Luz problem, not no one else’s. Wasn’t Tulip’s fault for finding those glowing eyes of doom sexy and cool. Wasn’t Anne’s fault for having them. Wasn’t Anne’s fault for using them all the time considering how useful they were. Wasn’t Anne’s fault that those glowing blue eyes reminded Luz of feeling so small, so alone, standing under the twisting shadows of a cruel tyrant. 

“Luz!” Luz dang near jumped out of her own skin suddenly hearing Anne’s voice. “The stove?”

“Oh, right!” Luz rose to her feet, swiped a fire glyph from the pile, and placed the owl staff against the wall. She shot a glance back at Tulip as she left the room. “I’ll be back in just a sec, okay?”

Anne’s back was to her as Luz entered the kitchen, chopping away at the counter. She’s still wearing her armor, because of course she was. At least she’s untied the sack and left it in the corner. Seeing her right now, no one in their right mind would ever compare this kind, courageous, best mom friend of a girl with something as heinous as Belos.

Anne heard Luz approach and wordlessly raised a frying pan towards her. Luz pressed the fire glyph against the bottom of the pan and tapped it. The surface heated up and hissed immediately. Real nice how all of the apartments here came with a pretty complete set of cooking appliances, including stoves. Electric stoves.

“Gracias,” Anne muttered as she set the pan down. 

“Mai pen rai Ka.” Luz smiled, giving Anne’s pauldron a tap. “Gonna take your armor off sometime tonight, o brave knight?”

Anne looked down on herself with surprise. “Oh, wow, yeah, I’m still wearing it.” Her attention quickly returned to the food. “I’ll… do it after. This is sizzling real nice.”

Luz rolled her eyes, but internally. She knew better than to get between Anne and her cooking. She simply gave Anne a knowing pat on the back as she left the kitchen. Yeah. The eyes were where the similarities began and ended. It was strictly a Luz problem. 

Luz paused at the doorway upon returning to the living room. Tulip had sat up a little straighter, eyes locked on the owl staff, clearly admiring it. Luz crossed her arms, leaned against the doorframe, and curled her lips into smug smile. Yes. This is a cool pose.

“Pretty cool staff, right?”

Tulip glanced at her for a split second. “It is. The owl carving at the top is very… distinct,” she observed. “Is it yours?”

Luz’s smile flickered. Her breathing wavered. Good thing Tulip wasn’t paying attention. “No. It’s my mentor’s. I’m just keeping it safe for now.” 

“Your mentor?”

Luz struck a pose with both hands on her hips. She’d like to imagine a dramatic wind would blow any second now. “Tulip, you’re standing before a bona fide witch apprentice of the Owl Lady herself,” she boasted. “Well. Sitting before.”

“None of that meant anything to me. No offense.” Tulip’s stare was mostly blank, but the glint of amusement in them was unmistakable. 

“Buzzkill,” Luz blew a raspberry, but it was in good fun. “The point is, the staff is important. It’s my responsibility until… well, until we at least get outta here.”

Tulip leaned back to sink into the cushions, sighing as she craned her head to face the ceiling. “If we get out of here.”

“Hey, hey.” Luz crossed her arms, borrowing Anne’s patented Look. “You’re new here, so I’m letting that one slide, but we don’t tolerate that kind of negativity in this shelter.” 

A heavy breath escaped Tulip. Her attention remained on the orbs floating near the ceiling. That won’t do. Luz crossed the living room and sat beside Tulip on the couch. 

“Tulip, look at me.” She seized both of Tulip’s shoulders. Tulip was caught off guard, but her eyes still met Luz’s. Luz leaned forward until the tips of their noses were inches apart, allowing Tulip to see deep in her eyes, feel the determination and resolve shining within. “Repeat after me: we’re going to figure out a way out of here together.”

Maybe Luz shouldn’t have been so forward, because Tulip was blushing up a storm, but dang it, she couldn’t bear to see this poor girl in despair. After a few coughs and a few inches of extra distance, Tulip’s lips curled into a lopsided smile as she repeated, “We’re going to figure out a way out of here together.”

Luz smiled too. That’s better. Smiles all around. She released her grip on Tulip’s shoulders and leaned back. Let Tulip get her personal space back.

“And we’ll find your friends too. I guarantee it.”

Tulip immediately made an odd grimacing expression. Uh oh. Did she say something bad?

“Yeah, about that.” Tulip rubbed the back of her neck. “I, uh. I came here alone.”

Luz blinked. Did she hear that right? “Wait, really? Like, alone alone?” 

Tulip nodded. Whoa. That’s a first. That’s a clue.

“I’m guessing you ended up here with friends too, like Anne.” 

So Anne already told Tulip about her own missing friends. It was Luz’s turn to nod. “Yeah. It was me, and my friend Willow, and… Amity.”

Luz couldn’t keep herself from frowning, thinking back. Things were going so well. Everything settled down, the Boiling Isles was free, and she finally got the portal back. She could finally go home. She even convinced Willow and Amity to come, said they deserve a break after everything that’s happened. Said it was her turn to show them her world. But she ended up here, and Willow and Amity were dragged here with her, and now they’re missing, and she had no idea where they were, and she had no idea where to even start looking. All because she wanted to show the human world to her friend and… friend. Girl. Friend. 

Cramity, she’s still getting used to that.

“And the three of you were separated too,” Tulip finished for her. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Luz exhaled, letting the light in her eyes dim. Battered, tired Tulip shouldn’t be the one doing the consoling, but the comforting words still felt good to hear. For a long moment, the only sound to be heard was the sizzle of Anne’s cooking from the kitchen. 

Willow and Amity. Sasha and Marcy. They’re out there, somewhere, on this strange new world. Waiting to be found. Waiting to be saved. 

Luz stared into the crackling, shifting flames of the fire pit. The stare hardened, the fire in her heart bursting back to life. The light of resolve behind her eyes shined brighter than the sun.

“We’ll find them all, and we’ll find a way home. That’s a promise.” 

-

“Order up!” 

Anne’s timing couldn’t be better. Luz had just started to hear the distinct rumble of an empty stomach, which Tulip insisted wasn’t hers. Anne entered the room - still armored, of course - with a steaming bowl on each hand. The wafting smell quickly filled the room, and Luz wasn’t ashamed to admit it got her mouth to water just a little bit. Anne crossed the room to hand Tulip a bowl before plopping down against the opposite wall with her own bowl. 

The smell made Tulip eager to accept the bowl, but that enthusiasm didn’t last long. Not that Luz could blame her. The contents of the bowl consisted of nothing more than misshapen chunks of black stuff - she had to assume it’s some kind of meat - that’s been glazed with a gravy-like substance colored even darker.

“Um. What is this, exactly?” Tulip asked slowly, clearly trying to be polite, bless her.

Luz shouldn’t snort, but she couldn’t help it. “Your first mistake is asking.” She’d long since resigned herself to Anne’s whims when it comes to eating. Whatever the food was, Anne’s good for it.

“Excuse me for not making it look pretty.” Anne was already chewing a mouthful of the stuff. “Just chow down. It’s good.”

Tulip stared down at the bowl in her lap. Must be a weird disconnect for her head. The smell was strong yet appetizing, but the appearance was anything but. Tulip scooped a spoonful of chunks, lifted the spoon into her mouth, and chewed. And a three, and a two, and…

“Oh!” It was like lightning had struck the girl. Her eyes were alight, stars dancing in her pupils. “Oh, wow. This is amazing.”

Anne had the courtesy to do a full body bow. “You’re welcome.”

Tulip wasted no time scooping a second spoonful into her mouth, followed by a third, then a fourth. Anne ate at a much slower pace, but anyone could easily see that she’d worked up an appetite. And Luz was kinda starting to regret not joining in.

The room was silent except for the crinkle of flames and the tinkling of silverware against ceramic. Even that started to die down as Anne and Tulip finished their meals. Now’s a good time as any to continue the conversation, right?

“So. Tulip,” Luz began. “What’s your story? How’d you end up here?”

Tulip didn’t answer right away. Or a minute after. Or even two minutes. Her fingers idly fiddled with the spoon in the empty bowl as gears grinded in her head. She’s choosing her words, and she’s doing it very carefully.

“I was stuck on a train. A really, really weird train. I think… it travels between dimensions, or something.” 

Both Luz and Anne nearly left the floor like a pair of loaded springs. Wow. Just when she thought she’d heard everything.

“T-Travel between dimensions?!”

“Yeah. I think? I’m not exactly sure how it works.” Another pause, stretching just a little too long. “Uh, anyway. It took a while, but I finally found a way off of it. But instead of going home, I ended up here.”

“What’s this train like? Where’d it come from? Where’s it heading?” The questions spilled out of Luz’s mouth with the strength and speed of a waterfall. The fuse has been lit. Luz was curious before, but now she’s deeply invested.

“It’s, uh, big. Really big. I don’t know where it came from. Don’t know if it’s heading to anywhere in particular. I don’t think it is. It’s just… going.”

Luz didn’t need any divination glyph to know that Tulip was holding back on all the juicy details. “Were you alone? Was there anyone else onboard? Did you meet them?”

“I guess there were. Other people. Maybe.” Tulip’s answers were getting awfully short and clipped. 

Luz cocked her head. She knew exactly what’s happening here. She scooted closer to Tulip and placed a comforting hand on her thigh. “Tulip, it’s okay. You’re safe here. I know we literally just met, but we’re all friends here. There is nothing you can say that’ll weird us out.”

Tulip stared at the hand on her thigh, then at Luz. Her eyes were still clouded with doubt. Maybe she just needed one more push. “Come on. How long did you stay on that train? How did you manage to get off? Does this train have name?” Luz asked and asked and asked. “How’d you even end up on it in the first place?”

“Luz.” Anne’s voice broke through the stream of questions, stern and a little scary. Luz didn’t need to turn to know that she’s giving her that Look. “We all came here with a story. Some parts of it, you just don’t want people to know.”

Luz cringed at herself for not noticing it sooner. Tulip had been slowly shrinking further into herself with every question thrown at her. “Thanks, Anne,” the poor girl mumbled, relieved.

Luz removed her hand from Tulip’s thigh. Right. Boundaries. 

Anne set her bowl aside and rose to her feet. “Welp. It’s been a long night, especially for you, Tulip. Won a race against that beastie, and you’re still alive. I’d say the best way to celebrate is by getting a good night’s sleep,” she said, circling the fire pit. “C’mere, I’ll carry you to the bed.”

“Oh, no, I can just sleep here, you’ve already- okay we’re doing this again.”

Tulip had no way of stopping Anne from lifting her up in her strong, beefy arms. “Dude, it’s fine. The bed’s big enough for two, and someone’s gonna stay up to keep watch anyway. No guest of ours is spending the night on the couch.”

Luz led the way and opened the door to the bedroom for Anne and Tulip to squeeze through. Anne laid Tulip down on the right side of the bed and adjusted the pillow for her. She even helped Tulip take off her boots, placing it by the bed. Luz couldn’t keep herself from smiling, watching it unfold. Anne wasn’t simply a mom friend. She’s the mom friend.

“I’m gonna go clean up,” Anne said as she passed Luz to leave the room. “Get plenty of sleep, Tulip.” 

“Night, mom.”

“Wasn’t talking to you, weeb.”

Luz chuckled as she sat down on the other side of the bed. She pulled out her phone from inside the bedside table and turned to look at Tulip. “Need something to help you sleep? I’ve got, let’s see… some Spanish lullabies, some great anime openings, ievan polkka remixes, and caramelldansen but it sounds like it’s coming from another room.” 

“I’m barely hanging on right now. I’m gonna pass out just fine,” Tulip breathed her answer as she rubbed her eyes. Luz never noticed the bags under her eyes, but now that she did, it was impossible to ignore.

“Well, your loss.” Luz put her phone back in the bedside table. A few quiet moments passed, with Luz simply watching Tulip shifting about, fixing her unruly hair, trying to get comfortable. One of the light orbs near the ceiling blinked out of existence.   

“Sorry for being pushy before,” Luz began. It’s going to ear her up if she left it alone, so she might as well settle it now. “I’ve been told I have problems with boundaries.”

Tulip turned her head to look at Luz and… didn’t quite smile. She’s too tired to smile, but she’s trying. “It’s fine. Really. I get it. You’re curious. I’m curious too. About a lot of things.” She stared upward, but her eyes weren’t looking at the ceiling. Her eyes were lost in her own memories. “It… almost got the better of me, sometimes. I get… tunnel vision. Suddenly, an answer is the only thing that matters.” 

Luz opened her mouth, but no word left her. She didn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that. How old was this girl again? “Maybe you could give me some pointers,” she eventually said.

“I’m not great yet, but I’ll do my best.” Her eyes were closed now. Tulip didn’t see the grateful smile forming on Luz’s lips.

Everyone really did come with a story. 

Luz got off of the bed. There were still things she needed to do before ending the day. “If you need anything, just say so. I’m sure mom’ll come running.”

Tulip laughed. Was that the first time she heard Tulip laugh? It was a lovely laugh.

“Good night, Tulip.”

“Night, Luz.”

Luz slipped out of the room as quietly as she could. The door clicked as it closed behind her. Now, she should tidy up her mess in the living room, or patch up Tulip’s jacket, or modify the warding glyph on the front door so that it’ll allow Tulip passage too. But instead, she found herself following the sound of gentle, splashing water to the kitchen. 

Anne was at the sink, cleaning the dishes and the remnants of her cooking, not yet noticing Luz at the doorway. With no water running, the tap was basically useless, so they’d set up a small bucket of clean water next to the sink to clean with. Luz was not at all surprised to see this wild girl washing up still in her armor. It was as if the armor was a second skin for her. 

Alright, Luz has given Anne plenty of opportunities. Time to take matters into her own hands.

Luz crossed the room and slipped her arms around Anne, reaching for the clasps on her front first. Anne made a funny squeak as she felt hands suddenly on her, but she relaxed as she realized what Luz was trying to do. She even helped undo a few of the clasps, and moved accordingly as Luz began removing parts of her armor, until Anne was left with only her tattered school uniform. Luz placed the armor set down beside the counter for now. She knew Anne preferred to handle her gear herself.

“I was just about to take it off, I swear,” Anne claimed. 

“Mhm. Sure you were.” Luz reached up and plucked a leaf out of Anne’s hair. Anne groaned as she saw the leaf flutter to the floor.

“Oh my god,” she groused, shaking her hair until it was clear of debris. Mostly. You never know what could be in those locks. She fixed Luz with a tired pout. “What’re the chances that you know how to give someone a haircut?”

“Everyone technically can. S’just gonna look awful.” Luz’s mind wandered back to the time she let King try and give her a haircut. Boy, was that a mistake. “But even if I know, I wouldn’t do it to you. Your hair looks great.”

“Where were you in fifth grade?” Anne mumbled, the smile on her lips tinged with sadness. Luz could ask Anne the same thing.

“It’s been a long night for you too, Anne. Using your powers take a lot out of you, right? Get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.” Luz pointed a knowing finger to Anne’s face right as she opened her mouth to speak. “And don’t you even try talking your way out of this. It’s my shift and you know it.”

“Who’s the mom now?” Anne rolled her eyes, but Luz knew that she’d won. “Alright. Let me finish cleaning up.”

The gentle sounds of lapping water continued as Luz paused at the kitchen doorway. Her eyes lingered on the bedroom door for a moment, before she turned back to the kitchen. “Did you know Tulip came here all alone?”

“Yeah. First time that happened.” Anne hung a clean pan on the wall to dry as she glanced over her shoulder. “You think that’s something worth looking into?”

“Could be. Could be it’s just a huge coincidence that the two of us came here with friends.”

“Three.”

Oh, really? Three? Luz had her suspicions, but that essentially confirmed it. “You know, good thing you brought that up,” she said, standing behind Anne with her arms crossed. “Let’s talk about how you were out in the jungle this late at night.”

“Here we go,” Anne muttered after she blew a breath. She turned around, facing Luz eye to eye. “I was just looking for some fresh air.”

“You couldn’t find fresh air in the city?”

Anne’s pause was brief, but very noticeable. “I wanted the jungle kind of fresh air.”

The jungle kind of fresh air. In a way, Luz was disappointed. She’s heard better excuses coming from Anne. It’s obvious now what happened. Anne ventured into the jungle with a very specific goal. A flash of red hair caught Anne’s eye, and she followed that trail until it led her to finding and saving Tulip. Only problem was, Tulip wasn’t the redhead that Anne was looking for.

“You were trying to find Twelve again, weren’t you?”

-

Another addition to the roster?

I keep doing this to myself. I mean, I guess I knew going in that this chapter is going to be quite long. My first estimate was, like, 3.5k words or something. But then I go off, and suddenly it’s longer than the previous two chapters combined. Eh, whatever. My loss is your gain.

This is my first time really writing Luz. I’ve written drabbles with her in it before, but they were just dumb jokes and very short. This one’s more serious and way longer. So, so much longer. The TOH writers have done a great job putting a lot of amazing nuances to her character. I can only hope my take is at the very least can be decently compared to theirs. I’m not exactly asking y’all to be nice to me, but uh. Yeah.

Next up, it’s a new day for the girls. See you then!

#the owl house #amphibia #infinity train #luz noceda #anne boonchuy #tulip olsen #Otherworld

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Stranded

damian wayne x reader

(A/N): So it's @glorified-red 's birthday and I didn't know until today but I wrote this thing a while back (thank you to @citrinesparkles for prompting it for me) and I figured I liked it enough to post it and today seemed like a good day. So Happy Birthday Red!! I hope you like this!

(The bolded sentence was a prompt that sparked this, so if it's an ooc line, that's why)

warnings: mentions of blood, injury

wordcount: ~600

~~

Damian winced as you pulled the dirty bandage away from his body.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I-” Damian grabbed your wrist and you froze, mouth open mid apology, your eyes shooting up to his face from where they were previously focused on his abdomen and the wound there.

“Stop apologizing. I have already told you I’ve forgiven you a hundred times now.” He dropped your wrist as a shiver tore through him. “And you could not have prevented this situation so it is not you who should be apologizing.”

You licked your lips, dry in the heat of the desert. Three days ago, both you and Damian were left stranded in the desert after your cover was blown on a mission. You believed it was your fault; your cover was blown first and your actions led to his being blown as well. He believed that the League of Assassins were at fault because it was their appearance that blew your cover at all. It had become a point of contention between the two of you over the past couple of days, especially with no food, a shortage of water, and Damian’s injury: a bullet graze he obtained while you were fighting your way out of the meeting you were infiltrating.

Dressed in party clothes, you had barely three bottles of water and a couple bandages between you, and between the hot sun and the lack of water, tensions were high and a headache was pounding at your temples. And now, Damian was running a fever.

You tore another piece of his undershirt off and pressed it to the wound. It wasn’t bleeding, not anymore, but you knew it was getting infected, even if he refused to acknowledge it, and keeping old bandages on it wasn't helping. Damian’s dress shirt had become his protection from the sun, and his blazer yours and your blanket at night when the temperature inevitably dropped.

Damian’s eyes were closed when you sat back, tossing the soiled fabric square away from the rocks the two of you had chosen for your shelter. For at least half of the day, they granted you shade, though they did nothing to stop the heat.

“You heard nothing last night?” he asked, eyes open now but unfocused as they stared out at the expanse of sand.

“No.” you paused, biting your lip. “Damian, we don’t even know if anyone got the signal. At best, they got it and tracked it to the location of the meeting.” You took a breath, looking down at your hands. They were sunburnt. “At worst, the signal cut out before it even got through and they have no idea where we were at the party, much less stranded in the desert.”

Damian huffed but didn’t say anything. Small tremors wracked his frame, and his skin, usually a healthy medium olive tone, was pale under the red of sunburn.

“Damian, you need medical attention.”

“I’m fine.” You sighed out a frustrated breath.

“No you’re not, and pretending you are isn’t helping either of us right now.” you cracked your knuckles, hoping it would relieve some of the anxious tension bubbling under your skin. “Look I’m-” Damian glared at you. “Ok fine, you can say it wasn’t my fault but the point still stands that you have a fever and it’s only going to get worse. And we have no idea if anyone is coming or if they’ll even get here before one or both of us dies from either dehydration or heat stroke or infection so forget your pride for just a second and rest.”

Damian didn’t change his position except to shift slightly, curling into his right side, where the bullet graze was, but he did close his eyes. You let your own eyes close just long enough to take a breath before forcing them back open again. At this point, you’d take it.

#my writing #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne blurbs #batboys x reader #damian wayne x y/n #emerson writes sometimes

[bratkook]

tied up. (m) jjk.

pairing. biker!jk x reader genre. smut, pwp, fluff, established relationship word count. 6k of just filth <3 warnings. light bondage, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, light overstimulation, spanking, begging, sweet dirty talk, cum play/stuffing, oc tries to be in control hehe summary. jungkook would do absolutely anything you asked. which is how he found himself on his back, arms tied up above his head, with you perched on his lap and a look on your face that meant trouble. note. little valentine’s day special for deep six!couple (it’s a pwp so no need to read the original story) i hope you enjoy it, lmk what you think ❣️

Never in a million years did Jungkook expect to be in this position. He’s a tough man, always clad in leather and thick rings, covered in dark tattoos, riding around on a loud bike with his club patch adorning his back. 

Yet here he was, laying on his back with his arms above his head, while your cute self sat perched on his hips, eyes sparkling and a giddy smile on your red coated lips. All because he was so inexplicably weak for you. 

“This is what you want?” Jungkook questions for the first time in the span of ten minutes. 

When he arrived home earlier, hands holding a giant plush teddy bear with a bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s breath between it’s paws, his attention was momentarily on the two dogs at his feet yapping for him to acknowledge. Jungkook had been too focused on petting the tiny furballs to notice you weren’t in the room, but when the usual feeling of your hands sliding around him in greeting was missing, he stood back up with a look of confusion. 

It wasn’t until he wandered further into the house, following a small trail of rose petals that lead from the front door all the way to the bedroom, that he finally spotted you. Sitting on the center of the bed in the dimly lit room, a few candles scattered on the dresser and nightstands, flames dancing and illuminating the scene in a warm glow, casting your form in a golden hue that left you looking unreal.

A silk ribbon lingerie set that matched your lipstick hugged your curves, tied up bows covering your nipples, completed by a matching garter belt hugging your waist with gold detailed chains dangling down to your thighs. It was as if you had taken a screenshot of Jungkook’s deepest desires and brought them to life, placed right in front of him, positioned perfectly in order to pull him in.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” you had murmured so sweetly, hands placed delicately over your thighs with your legs tucked under your butt, slowly beckoning him over when he had stood in a state of shock at the door. 

It didn’t take much to get Jungkook wired when it came to you, but seeing you covered in silk ribbons, looking like the perfect present he wanted to unwrap, made his mind blank. It’s that same horndog dazed look on his face that you knew so well, roping him in with your tender kisses and roaming hands, marking his skin in shades of red in a trail from his neck to his ear. This is not entirely how he thought the night would go, his earlier plans blanking from his mind, the teddy bear he held now placed on the nightstand while you lured him in.

“I wanna try something,” you had suggested, soft breath tickling his skin and turning him into a puddle at your feet. 

“Anything.” Jungkook meant it, always willing to do whatever you wanted with unmatched enthusiasm. So when you brought out a jute rope and used your sultry voice to ease him onto his back, slowly undressing him until his top half was bare, he could feel his heart thumping erratically in his chest. 

The question he had asked minutes prior continues to hang in the air as you loop the rope under a final time and pull the bight through, pulling tight to lock the knot in and tugging gently to double check that it wasn’t pinching his skin. The red rope compliments his skin, the double-column tie keeping his hands snug against the bed frame in the perfect position. 

“This is what I want,” you confirm, fingers trailing from his bound wrists, down the veins that covered his arms, and the black ink that painted his skin. Jungkook felt a trail of fire that followed your touch, burning his skin with molten pleasure while you continued down onto his chest, fingertips feeling the bumps of the golden chain he always wore with your initial on it. You admire it for a brief moment, loving the way it glimmers on his chest before your hands continue their path, sliding down until you reach his sides, hands cupped over his ribs and feeling the racing of his heart. 

“Nervous?” you tease, teeth biting down onto your lower lip, your thumb gently soothing his skin. You had half the mind to be a brat and tickle him, knowing he had no way to swat you away like he always did now that his hands were tied to the bed frame, but you could see the small shivers racking his body from being in this position. Jungkook was horny, and a little intimidated by you. 

“You make me nervous. Always look so pretty,” he trails off softly, eyes glazed over as he observes you. There would never be a time where Jungkook wouldn’t stare at you like you were the reason the sun came up every morning, your scattered kisses mimicking the constellations you swore he placed in the sky. Everything on this earth reminded him of you and he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“Yeah, you like this?” you wonder, hands coming up to trace along the straps of your lingerie with a knowing smile. He takes another minute to admire the silk fabric, eyes focused on the caged bralette hugging your boobs, ends of the ribbon covering your nipples and bouncing when you lean back to give him a better view. The matching underwear with a tiny heart cut out of the front was the cherry on top, silky material felt along his skin from your position. “I bought it just for you.”

A small groan escapes him, tongue coming out to swipe at his piercing before he’s biting down on the soft flesh. Jungkook loved you in absolutely anything you wore, but knowing you had gone out of your way to pick this out had him wondering just how many other options you had hidden away. He’d definitely be bringing that up once he wasn’t focused on the sweet sound of your voice.

“That makes me feel special.” His hands move to touch you, so accustomed to gripping your hips whenever you’re on top of him, he forgets he’s currently restrained until the bed frame rattles and a small burn is felt around his wrists. A wince reaches your ear before he’s relaxing once more, briefly looking up to remind himself that he was tied up before looking back at you with those doe eyes that always swoon you, just now understanding what a compromising position he’s in.

“Nuh uh,” you tsk, wagging a finger at him playfully. “You can’t use your hands today.”

Jungkook honestly didn’t think this through before accepting, not realizing just how much he loved to grope and hold on to you at all times. “What's your plan? Tie me up and use me until you’re satisfied? Because that sounds like one of my fantasies.”

A sly smirk curls your lips, eyes clouding with lust, and it makes his stomach flip. He knew you meant trouble whenever you had that look on your face, and the current situation leaves him a little wary—and excited—for what you have planned. 

“Should I blind fold you too then?”

His eyes narrow as he stares at you, a small frown turning down his lips, clearly displeased with the suggestion. “Alright, that's taking it too far. You know I love staring at you, baby.” 

Jungkook slowly ruts his hips up, cool belt buckle felt along your clothed core, pushing against you when he repeats the motion once more. It makes you shiver while you lean forward, resting more of your weight against him and seeing the teasing grin on his face. Tie him up all you want, he’d even let you contort him into a pretzel if that's what you were into, but blindfolding him and preventing him from seeing the pretty faces you make as you moan over his cock? That was sick torture. 

Thankfully you weren’t totally cynical, agreeing that Jungkook bound to the bed frame with his muscular arms held up was more than enough. “I’m just teasing, Guk. You look good like this though.”

Wiggling a perfectly shaped brow at you, he already feels his cock hardening underneath you, the small ruts of your hips joining his only spurring him on further until he’s aching in his jeans. “C’mon, do whatever you want to me baby.”

Jungkook holds his breath when you lift your hand up, slowly reaching across to tuck a strand of his long hair behind his ear, thumb gently tracing the tiny scar marking his skin with a smile on your face. 

“I will,” you whisper with mischief in your eyes as you shuffle off his lap, nimble fingers undoing his belt clasp with ease, enjoying the way his stomach tenses with anticipation while you unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. His impatience shows when he lifts his hips, eager to have you yanking the denim from his thick thighs, not satisfied until you’re tossing the material aside, landing in a heap right beside his leather jacket on the floor. 

The black briefs he has on do a good job showcasing his growing bulge, slowly tenting the fabric when you gently trace your finger along his thighs, following the bold lines of ink on his skin. Almost like a ritual, you place a soft kiss to the double-headed wolf shaded in black before your fingertips dip beneath the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down his hips smoothly. 

Jungkook audibly groans at being released, hard cock bobbing in the air slightly with small beads of precum collecting at his tip, already hard and heavy just from looking at you. The prettiest veins line the underneath of it, guiding your eyes all the way up until you reach the pink mushroom head, just waiting to find its way into your mouth. 

“Fuck, I love your cock,” you marvel, pulling his underwear down all the way and letting it join his pile of clothes on the floor. He lay completely naked now, chiseled body out in the open for you to drool over, and he’s not opposed to it. The fiery look in your eyes while you trailed your gaze over every inch of him only made him squirm, desperate for you to touch him, to show him just why you wanted to have him tied up. 

“Show me how much you love it,” he rasps, teeth sinking down on his lip when you stare up at him, slowly lowering yourself until he could feel your breath hitting his skin. Your eyes are trained to detect any of his movements, from the bob in his throat when he swallows as you wrap your hands around his cock, to the tensing of his thighs when you place a teasing kiss to his swollen tip, taking note of his reactions to your touch.

A shuddering breath escapes him at the contact, once again forgetting about his limited range of motion when he goes to touch you and the headboard shakes behind him. It makes his wrists sting as the rope rubs against his skin in the same spot from before, but he couldn’t help it. The way you’re kneeling between his legs, back arched while you lean forward with your ass jutting into the air, he just wants to reach forward and give it a good smack like he always does.  

You know Jungkook inside and out, so as much as he was trying to act like he was okay with not being in control, you can tell he’s edging closer to becoming a desperate, frustrated mess underneath you. The small whine he releases when he settles his arms back into place shows you that much, and another glance up at him allows you to see the tiny grimace painting his features now, brows pinched together while you continue to tease him. 

“Wanna hear you beg for it,” you sigh, loosely pumping him in your hand, hovering your mouth above him when you stick your tongue out and let a thick trail of spit drip onto his cock. Jungkook hisses slightly at the visual, eyes focused on the way your spit mixes with his precum as you swipe your thumb along his slit. 

“Baby,” he whines, rutting his hips up and frowning when you inch back to prevent his cock from nudging your lips. The wicked smile on your cherry coated lips sends his mind spinning, fingers clenching in his palm when you tilt your head at him innocently. 

“Beg Jungkook. Wanna hear you.”

Your hands tighten around him, making his thighs tense as his hips rut up once more. “Fuck,” he cries out, raspy and desperate. “Please baby, make me feel good. Ah, just wanna feel your mouth please—“

His rambling gets stuck in his throat when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, gently flicking your tongue against him and having the salty taste of his precum fill your senses. Jungkook’s chest heaves when you hum around him, red lips circling his length as you slowly sink down, the warm wetness of your mouth making his blood simmer. 

The weight of his cock on your tongue has you mewling, eyes fluttering shut when you take him an inch further, gently hollowing your cheeks to suck in time with your hand. Jungkook can’t form a coherent thought now, focusing on the messy way you suck his cock, leaving it nice and shiny each time you pull back. Strings of spit drip down his length and gather around your palm, the wet thump of your hand coming down mixing in with the obscene slurps of your mouth.

“I like you like this,” you breathe as you pop off his dick, hands gliding across his length with the help of your saliva. It’s a torturous rhythm you have going, knowing exactly what to do to make Jungkook writhe around, applying just the right pressure, focusing on all the parts that you know would drive him crazy. 

“Yeah?” he manages to speak, arms flexing in their restraints when you lick a stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around his pink tip with a smile on your lips. 

“Mhm, you sound pretty when you beg.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re lucky I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” you hum, the familiar warmth filling your chest at his confession just as strongly as it did when he first said it. Although he’s being playful you know how deep his words go, you can tell by the look in his eye, and if that wasn’t enough then the mere fact that he was allowing you to tie him up said it all. 

“How much more do I have to beg to get you to sink onto my cock?” The muscles in his neck tense when he throws his head back, gasping as you take him back into your mouth, sliding further down than before. His stomach hiccups once his cock nudges the back of your throat, muscle tightening around his length when you gag slightly at the feeling. Jungkook’s lungs forget how to function at the sight, your red lips pulled taut around his girth as you slurp back up only to repeat the motion again and again until he’s tensing underneath you, stomach caving in each time he hits the back of your throat. 

The breathy whine that spills past his lips has your underwear dampening with arousal, thighs rubbing together when you lift off of him once more, feeling the lust growing inside of you with each moan he releases. Very rarely did you ever get to see Jungkook like this, pleading for you to make him feel good, nights like that typically reserved for the days where he was exhausted from the club, easily becoming a needy mess in search of a stress reliever. But this version of him was new, and you wanted to savor it a little longer.

“Beg a little more for me, yeah?” Your eyes sparkle while you speak, sitting back up between his legs. His cock is left alone when you bring your fingers to the sides of your underwear, gently tugging at the knotted silk on each side to undo the garment, allowing you to slip them off while keeping the golden garter chain attached. 

Once Jungkook gets the view of your glistening folds, he doesn’t need you to ask twice. Instantly, he’s pleading to feel the warmth of your pussy around him, begging to see the look on your face once you sunk onto him, needing to hear the wet sound of his cock slipping into you. “P-please, wanna see my pretty baby use me. Wanna—fuck—wanna feel you cum around me.”

The soft skin of your thighs rub against his when you reposition yourself, straddling his lap with your pussy hovering a few inches above his length, and Jungkook can’t look away once you slowly lower yourself onto him. His lips press together at the sensation, the wetness coating your folds helping you grind against his cock, lower lips parting around it as you rock forward. It’s a teasing motion that tortures the both of you, the head of his cock just barely nudging against your clit each time, but it’s enough to have him groaning.

“Baby,” he whines again, jaw dropping open, brows furrowed together as his eyes move from the spot between your thighs, looking directly at you and seeing the sinfully evil smile you have on. The weight of you on him, keeping his cock pressed against his stomach while you grind against him, has a pool of precum gathering below his belly button, leaving a sticky mess on his warm skin.

“You wanna feel me?” you tease, letting your hands rest on his chest, tracing the skulls marking his skin and gasping when he ruts up in time with you. Your nails lightly dig into him when his cock rubs against your swollen clit with precision, biting down on your lip to prevent a moan from escaping.

“Please, let me feel you,” he whispers breathlessly, mind hazy with lust, skin tingling with each roll of your hips. You let his pleading go unanswered for a minute, enjoying the way his abs clench in time with your hips, smiling when his arms yank at the restraints in his dazed state, small moans leaving his swollen lips while he stares at you.

“Because you asked so nicely,” you smirk, bending forward to place a tender kiss to the edge of his lips, pulling back for a second as he chases your mouth before appeasing him and allowing your lips to meet in a heated kiss. Jungkook gasps into your mouth when your tongue slips past the seam of his lips, tangling with his while you reach between your bodies and grab his cock.

A slight raise from your hips allows you to lead him to your entrance, bulbous head prodding the tight ring of muscles, slowly breaching through in a familiar stretch. It didn’t matter how often Jungkook felt the warmth of your walls, his reaction was the same every time, moaning unabashedly into your mouth, the glide of your walls against his cock leaving him breathless. He’s patient as you ease onto him, continuing to kiss you, swallowing each other’s moans and pants until he bottoms out once you’re fully settled on top of him.

The full feeling of Jungkook’s cock would never fail to make you weak, curving just right inside of you, nudging the perfect spots like it was meant to be there. Your palms on his chest let you feel each rise and fall of his lungs, skin slightly sweaty to the touch, heart racing even faster than before. The wet smack of your lips separating fills the brief silence, faces inches from each other and the half lidded gaze Jungkook gives you makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

“You always feel so good,” you keen, lifting up slightly before sinking back down, becoming more fluid as you get used to his size. His body trembles slightly underneath you, rugged pants felt against your face when he groans at the feeling of your velvety walls wrapping around him beautifully. 

“Don’t tease me,” he sighs, arms flexing and mind going foggy from the slow pace. The pretty pout on his lips when he whines makes it all worth it though, lets you relish in the small sense of control he’s given you. 

You give in to him though, knowing just how bad he wanted this, allowing you to do what you pleased to him, and the least you could do was give him what he wanted too. With a soft smile, you’re bending forward and placing a kiss to the golden chain, not feeling the way his heart skips a beat as he stares at you, the warm light of the room casting you in an angelic glow that only made him fall for you further. 

“Sorry,” you giggle, grabbing his chin before you kiss him, sweet and tender as if you didn’t have him bound to the bed frame. Jungkook can’t even make light of it all, a choked moan of your name reaching your ears when you pick up the pace of your hips, skin slapping together each time you come back down. 

His hooded gaze meets yours, locked onto your every move: the bounce of your breasts while you ride him, still caged behind that bralette he couldn’t rip off with his hands, thighs tensing with the rise and fall of your hips, pussy sucking him in each time, arousal dripping down his length and staining the sheets below you.

“Fuck baby, just like that.” The husky drawl to his voice ignites a small fire within you, hot desire building inside you. The euphoric feeling spreads to every limb on your body, the thickness of his cock spreading you apart deliciously, taking over your rational thinking the way it always did, leaving you drunk off his cock as you succumb to the feeling of it all. 

He smirks lightly when you quiver above him, core tightening each time the head of his cock nudges deep inside you, rubbing along the sweet bundle of nerves he knew all too well. Your hips continue to lead you back to that same spot, cursing each time the jolt of pleasure courses through you. A trembling moan blends in with the sounds around you, walls tightening around his cock when you lift up, resting more weight on his chest when you lean forward for leverage. The angled position has your clit brushing against his pelvis, delicious friction that makes your orgasm creep up on you. 

“Fuck Guk,” you whimper above him with your eyes fluttering closed, missing the awed look he gives you, how his eyes trace the arch of your brows when you pull them together, following the curve of your mouth pushed into a pout with lips coated in a sheen of your saliva—something he desperately wants to feel against his own lips. Jungkook doesn’t fail to see how the table has turned, how easily you’ve become the whiny mess you were so determined to have him be. He loves it like this though, loves to see you shuddering with ecstasy, all because of him. 

“You gonna cum?” he wonders, voice thick and dripping with want. No longer passive, his thighs tense as he starts to fuck up into you, chuckling when you lean fully over him, allowing him to do more of the work once you start to lose momentum. A strained moan is your only response, cheek pressing into his chest as he pistons his hips into you, the lewd sound of your skin slapping together louder than before. Jungkook smiles down at you, seeing the way your body rocks in time with his thrusts, mouth dropping open while you drool over his cock. 

“C-close,” you cry, nails digging into his skin, half moon indents blending in with his chest piece while you try to find your bearings. With a bit of struggle, you lift your head once more, eyes glazed over with lust and you frown at him. “This was s-supposed to be about you.”

His hips speed up now, fingers itching to reach forward and cup your jaw, wanting to bring you closer to kiss the frown from your face. “This is about me. Love seeing you like this.” Jungkook groans as you get impossibly tighter around him. “Cum for me baby, please.”

His begging is what pushes you over the edge, wet gasp sticking to your throat once your climax washes over, incoherent mumbles of his name sounding like music to his ears. Your body trembles above him as your juices soak his cock, slurred curses spoken into the air while another gush of wetness escapes you, leaving his thighs wet with remnants of your orgasm. 

“My pretty baby,” he coos, continuing to rut into you as you whimper, sensitive walls pulsing around him, sending light sparks of overstimulation through you. “Let my arms go angel, wanna make you feel special too.”

Still drunk off your high and vision spotty, you weakly nod, fingers slowly undoing the knot you made until his hands are finally free.

In a flash, he’s pushing you back onto the bed, messy cock slipping out of you in the process. Once his large hands are gripping your skin, everything feels right with the world, soft flesh between his fingers when he grabs your ass as he flips you over, exactly where they belonged. 

Jungkook takes his time, allowing his palms to roam your skin, acting as if he hadn’t been in this exact position last night. He traces over the golden chains along your thighs, admiring them like you had admired the chain on his chest, following them to your waist, up your back until he’s unclasping your bra and finally discarding it to the side. 

The sudden movement has you dazed, not even realizing when he had pushed you onto your knees with your hands holding you steady. The soft material of the sheets is felt beneath you, fingers gripping them while you whimper in anticipation.  

“You had your fun baby,” he sighs, fisting his cock and leading it back towards your drenched entrance. “Let me have mine.”

“Jungkook,” you mewl, arching your back further for him. His palm soothes your skin once he gently sinks back into you with a wet squelch, both hands now gripping your hips when he starts the quick pace you were both accustomed to. Your thighs spread further apart for him, keening when he sinks deeper into you, fisting the sheets as he filled you up. 

Jungkook is focused on the view of his cock stretching you open, how you’re creaming it each time he pulls back out, more of your arousal coating your thighs in a sinful mess. “Love this view,” he groans, one of his hands rearing back to deliver a rough smack against your ass, smirking when the flesh jiggles from the force. The sting spreads to your core, makes you squeal in surprise as your skin smarts and tingles, warmth intensifying when he swiftly delivers two more smacks to the same spot. “Love you.”

The sweet confession makes your walls tighten, a small cry released into his sheets as you rut back into him, meeting his thrusts in time with your own in a messy rhythm. “Love you too, so much—fuck.”

“Do you?” he jests, leaning over your body until his golden chain dangles against your shoulder, free hand clasping over yours and digging into the mattress. “Is that why you wanted to tie me up?”

A playful laugh escapes you, turning into a filthy gasp when he speeds up his thrusts, thighs smacking against yours, bed creaking under the movement. “Yes,” is all you can choke out, shivering at the ticklish feeling of his chain rocking along your skin. 

“You gonna let me tie you up next time and do whatever I want to you?”

“God, yes. Whatever you want Jungkook.” He huffs out a laugh, knowing you mean it, knowing you would indulge every one of his desires with no questions asked. You were his match made in heaven, aligning perfectly with every one of his wants and needs, and he’d forever wonder how he got lucky enough to have you enter his life. 

His right hand reaches for your face, cupping your jaw and turning you to face him, lips meeting yours in a frenzy. His fingers dig into your cheek, tongue slipping into your mouth with a shared moan, hips never losing their momentum. It leaves you in a haze, sighing into the kiss when his tongue tickles the roof of your mouth. 

“Wanna fill you up,” he whispers between smacks of your lips, letting his tongue trail against the seam of your lips before kissing you again. “Leave you nice and messy.”

“Please,” you pant, jaw slack when he angles his hips, cock hitting your gspot with precision, your sensitive walls spasming around him. “H-harder.”

“Whatever you want baby,” he murmurs, giving you another kiss before straightening up, both hands tightly gripping your hips while he gives you the rough pace you asked for. Your upper body gives out on you, face burying into the sheets as your senses overflow with him, body jostling forward with each snap of his hips, nipples grazing the sheet beneath you and making you mewl.

The sweet moans of your name he lets out, fingers burning your skin as he holds on to you, cock filling you up perfectly, it's all you can think about. And when he sneaks a hand around your body, fingers meeting your sensitive clit, you nearly shriek at the stimulation. 

Jungkook feels his own climax creeping up his spine, giving your ass another slap and groaning when you tighten around him. Your thighs tremble against his, hands yanking the sheets while you melt into his touch, moans getting breathier with each flick of his fingers. The pressure builds in your core, whole body tensing up when your second orgasm of the night makes itself known. 

“Guk.” It’s a guttural moan, needy and drawn-out, your hand mindlessly reaching behind you in search for his. He grabs it instantly, lacing your fingers together and anchoring you to him as your mind starts to float, continuing to circle along your clit with his hips never slowing down their intoxicating pace. 

With a final flick against your bundle of nerves, you’re pushed over the edge once more, falling head first into your orgasm so fast it shocks you. Your eyes slip shut, flashes of light displayed against your lids, goosebumps flaring across your skin while the white-hot pleasure consumes you. 

Jungkook curses at your walls sucking him in, attempting to milk his orgasm out of him as he continued to fuck you through it. Your hand grips his tightly, soft mewls filling the air while your body twitches and shudders, breath hiccuping as you come down, knees barely able to hold yourself up. His strong hold keeps you steady, golden chains around your messy thighs swinging from the force of his thrusts. 

“Shit baby,” he grunts, thrusting into you in quick bursts, desperate to feel his release. Your thumb gently rubs along his palm, quiet pleas begging him to fill you up, wanting to feel his cum drip out of you the way you loved. Jungkook’s hips lose their rhythm, fucking you with urgency, jaw clenched tightly when the familiar feeling overtakes him. With a few shallow thrusts and another quiet proclamation of love, he’s pushing deeper into you as he cums, warm bursts of white painting your walls, filling you up until it drips out of you around his length. 

The harsh breaths of both of you fill the now silent room, the thrumming of your heart felt in your ears as everything settles around you. Your limbs feel sore already, ass aching from where he delivered the harsh slaps, but the dopey smile on your face shows no complaints. 

You’re the first to move, gently prying your hands apart and allowing him to slide out of you. The slight gush of his cum escaping only makes you squirm, more so when his fingers stuff it back into you with a chuckle. He can’t look away though, focused on the thick globs of cum coating your folds, disappearing once more as he fills you up again. When you whine in protest he slips his fingers back out, smiling sweetly before he peppers kisses onto your back.

“I’m just trying to prevent the sheets from staining.” 

“Yeah right,” you snort, flipping over onto your back and smiling up at him. These sheets were as good as ruined, they typically were whenever you two decided to roll around and make a mess. “You’re trying to knock me up aren’t you?”

He only rolls his eyes while he crawls over you, long hair framing his face while he gives you his boyish smile. “Maybe,” he shrugs, placing a tender kiss to your lips before kissing the tip of your nose. 

When he pulls back, you let your hands cup his face, taking a good moment to admire your boyfriend, tracing every one of his features that you had memorize, your favorite being the slope of his nose leading to the curve of his lips, second favorite being the tiny mole below his mouth that you loved to kiss. Jungkook always let you take as long as you wanted, staring down at you with glimmering eyes and a sweet smile, taking his own moment to admire you as well. 

“Did you even notice the gift I brought you?” he questions lightly, eyes looking over to the teddy bear and bouquet of flowers. Your head cranes back to see what he was talking about, letting out a delighted gasp when you spot it. He snickers when you twist around on the bed, scrambling over to grab the cute gift in your hands, sniffing the flowers once you do. 

“I love them,” you beam, fondly staring down at the plush toy with the sewn on heart, both your initials embroidered onto it. “Sorry I ambushed you earlier.”

Jungkook grabs a pair of his sweats from his drawers, slipping them on before handing you one of his shirts once he stands beside you. He didn’t mind his own plans for the night being slightly derailed if it lead to this. “Ambush me all you want,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Just remember, you told me I could do whatever I want next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” His playful laugh fills the air when your elbow digs into his side, making him squirm, arms refusing to let go of you despite your attack. He only loosens his grip when you turn around, hands falling around your waist as your own hands settle around his shoulders. 

“Happy Valentine’s day. I love you.” His smile is wide as he looks down at you, cheeks pushing out in a way that keeps his innocence and makes you want to pinch them until they’re pink and he’s giggling for you to stop.

“I love you more,” you breathe out with a matching smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. He sighs into it, letting himself melt into the slow motion, hands bringing you closer to him as he deepens it. But before it could go any further, a yap and a few scratches to the door pull you apart. 

“You sure you want kids?” you joke when he walks over to open the door, the two dogs rushing into the room for attention, stretching out their legs onto you as their tails wag. 

Jungkook settles onto the floor, allowing the youngest dog to climb onto his lap, standing up to lick at his jaw. “If it's with you, I want twelve.”

You can’t hold back the loud laugh you let out and he joins in, turning to stare at you when you playfully nudge his shoulder with your foot. “Keep dreaming Six. You know you’re not ready to give up your bike just yet.”

He knew this, perfectly content with the two dogs you currently had, only enjoying teasing you with the ridiculous number of kids and dogs he suggested. But Jungkook also knew that when the time was right, things would fall into place. And as he stares at the room, seeing an abundance of photographs of the two of you, newer photos showing the puppies you had adopted, there's only one thing he’s certain about: as long as he's with you, nothing else matters.

#ficswithluv #bangtansorciere #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #btsghostie #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts smut #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #new

[jamaisjoons]

erised ⤑ pjm | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 the last thing jimin had anticipated when he’d followed you into the room of requirement was to find you, the demure little head-girl, in front of the mirror of erised. moaning his name. 〞hogwarts au. pwp au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: slytherin head-boy!jimin x hufflepuff head-girl!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: mild angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 29k 🥴

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: hard dom!jimin, big cock!jimin, possessive!jimin, sub!reader, virgin!reader, female masturbation, mirror sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, teasing, minor thigh spanking, fingering, degradation, humiliation, dirty talk, corruption kink, biting, orgasm denial, orgasm control, begging, pussy slapping, marking, object play? he teases her with a vibrating wand, praise, object insertion, clit spanking, crying, begging, overstimulation, clit torture, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, squirting, manhandling, spanking, minor anal play/teasing, power play/dnyamics, virgin sex, wet & mess sex, unprotected sex, once again jimin has a ᵖʰᵃᵗ cock, kneeling doggy style (kind of oath sex position), mild pain kink, rough sex, hair pulling, creampie, brief cum play

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: sol writing a jimin au? truly, it must be a miracle,,,,, this really was supposed to only be a 5k commission,,, but i thot if i need to suffer and write for jimin,,,, perhaps i should suffer and write him an entire au with plot,, just like he deserves 😌

⏤ commissioned by @opaljm​​ in exchange for a blm donation // beta read the these lovely people: @yeoldontknow​, @luffles424​, @peekaboongi​, @sunshinekims​, @inthecrescentmoonight​, @tricethecharm​, @jjungkooksthighs​, @dontaskshhhhh​ and @nervouskiwi​!!

⏤ disclaimer: in order to ensure all characters are 18+, i’ve tweaked the hogwarts curriculum to include ‘apprenticeships’ and ‘masterships’, essentially wizarding equivalent of graduates/post-grad, and as a result, yn is 21 and jimin is 22!! // additional disclaimer: i know absolutely fuck all about tarot cards and readings and therefore thank you to the lovely @yeoldontknow​ for picking which cards to use as well as giving me the explanations/details of the reading!

⇥ this ones for all my kinky virgins out there, hope y’all stay freaks 😤

Hidden in the private dorms of the Potions Apprentice Quarters, you sit on the floor in the common room. Large, arched windows litter one side of the room, charmed - just like the Great Hall’s ceiling - to reflect the weather outside of the castle. Though, unlike the Great Hall, the charm could be turned off at will - allowing a magnificent, if not eerie, view of the underwaters of the Black Lake and all of its creatures. Currently, the charm is off, and the lake’s murky waters cast a dark hue to the room, bathing everything with a dark-teal tinge. Dark, crushed-velvet curtains drape down from the ceiling, the velour fabric only adding to the ominous scene of the Black Lake.

Despite the dismally grim sight of the lake, the rest of the common room is pleasant, and homely - if a little cold. With the space shared by all Potion’s Apprentices, from years eight to ten, regardless of the house, the interior is decorated in shades of black and grey rather than Hogwarts House colours. Dark, almost black, wenge wood furniture litters the room: from the large beams that run across the ceiling - holding onto the chandeliers, to the towering bookcases that fringe one wall of the room - brimming with rare potion tomes; as well as the glass-lined cabinets that cluster one corner of the room - teeming with vials and flasks of all sorts of potioneering ingredients.

The carpet that lines the flooring, however, is a light shade of mottled grey - the material piled and shaggy, and oh so soft under bare feet. Lavish leather sofas and armchairs of smoke-grey sit in one corner of the room, right beside the ornate brick fireplace; and a large frame of white gold hangs above the mantelpiece, containing the portrait of Gunhilda de Gorsemoor: a gifted potioneer who had developed the cure for Dragon Pox in the sixteenth century. Potions tables occupy the far corner, right beside the ingredients cabinets; each surface littered with a series of flasks and beakers, as well as glass phials, a pestle and mortar, various ingredient prepping tools; and, of course, a cauldron.

A sudden chill runs through the air, causing a shudder to run down your spine. It’s the middle of November, and yet, somehow the air feels colder in the common room. Though, you have a feeling that’s more to do with the fact that the dormitory is located in a far corner of the Hogwarts Dungeons, as well as being surrounded by the cold waters of the Black Lake. You don’t know why, perhaps it was just an oversight, but the temperature of the dungeons had always been bitterly biting. As a result, you nestled further into the warmth of the furry blanket laid over your lap - a gracious comfort from the brisk chill in the air. You’ve been living in the Apprentice Quarters for almost three years now, and yet, you’re still not used to the frigid temperatures of your dorms. To be honest, you don’t think you ever will.

Of course, being a Hufflepuff, you’d spent seven years on the floor just above - the common room located in the basement of Hogwarts. Alas, contrary to the dungeons, the basement is warm, in particular the Hufflepuff Common Room, and so, these past three years, you’ve struggled with the cold. Part of you wishes you were still within the comfort of the dorms you’d spent the better part of your Hogwarts Career in. However, after graduating from seventh year, you’d immediately applied for an apprenticeship in Potions. Upon having succeeded in your application, it had meant you’d had to move into the Dungeons, and from the Hufflepuff Dorms to the Potions Apprentice Quarters - a living space you currently share with Park Jimin.

Speaking of Jimin, he sits beside you and, unlike you, the cold doesn’t seem to bother him one bit. In fact, on the contrary to your body huddled into the shaggy comforter, the Slytherin Head Boy is casually pouring over the table: his back bent as his dark eyes skim across the parchment paper. His cloak rests casually on the sofa’s armrest, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and hair dangling in front of his eyes. You don’t know how he does it; how he so easily braces himself against the cold. Though, it could be because he’s spent ten years in the dungeons now - having acclimated to the cold over the decade.

From the corner of your peripheral vision, you take in the Head Boy. Naturally, you and Jimin had grown up together throughout your time at Hogwarts. And so, you’ve seen him change from the pudgy little eleven-year-old boy he was, to the man he is now. At twenty-two, Park Jimin is every bit the Pureblood Aristocrat he was born and bred to be: with dark pine-green hair that falls like silk around his face and sharp, cunning eyes - nestled between soft lids - that could stare into your soul and discover your deepest, darkest secrets (without the use of Legilimency).

Eyes scanning over his form, you watch as his lips quirk in concentration, his own gaze skimming across the large potions textbook as he jots down his notes. Against your will, your stare is pulled toward his hands. One is splayed onto the textbook, his pointer finger marking his current space on the page. The other glides across the parchment in front of him, his Eagle Quill scrawling over the paper in balletic movements as he jots down his notes. The gracefulness of the motions immediately captures your attention. His hands always surprise you, no matter what they’re doing. They’re somewhat small, and on the thick side - and a lot of the time they look incredibly cute. However, sometimes - like now - you’re surprised by how… attractive they are.

His fingers loosely grip the quill, the flexion of his knuckles practically mesmerising you as they protrude through his smooth, creamy skin. The bony features of his digits, and knuckles, are only emphasised by the thick rhodium ring he wears on his middle finger: the palatial band studded with gems of dark lilac and ebony. You have no doubt that it’d cost a fortune. Though, it’s probably closer to priceless; and most likely an antique, Park family heirloom. The backs of his hands are vascularised, and with each movement, you note the way the prominent vein bulges. You don’t know what he’s writing, but whatever it is, you know it’s probably incredibly advanced. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise you if he were scribbling different ingredients and their uses down, so he could create his own concoctions.

When you’d first moved in with Jimin, three years ago at the start of your apprenticeship, you’d been surprised by how often he’d actually studied. Particularly because Jimin was naturally gifted in Potions, and on his way to being one of the most skillful Potioneers the Wizarding World had ever seen. Thus, it was no surprise when you’d found out he was the other chosen Potions Apprentice for your year. Soft sigh drawing from your lips, you turn your attention back to your task at hand. Or well, tasks.

Juxtaposingly to Jimin, you were by no means a Potions Genius. Of course, you loved the subject, it’s just that you had to work a little harder in order to keep your grades up. Hence, the sight that greets you. Three pewter cauldrons sit on the table in front of you; the corners of your lips quirked into a frown as you inspect them. One of the pots contains a deep burgundy liquid, the potion rippling blood-red under the lighting of the torch sconces; signifying its completion. As a result, it’s the only one that’s set to the side. The other two still bubble over the bunsen burner: the left shimmers a pale, pearlescent lilac, while the right is a strange, putrid puce colouring that has you worried.

With a glance down to the potion tome beside you, your frown deepens. At this stage in the potion’s brewing, it should be a soft orange shade, not fetid-green. A low hum of distress emanates from your throat while you skim down the recipe - wondering just where you’d gone wrong. No matter how much you scour the textbook, you simply can’t seem to find it, and slowly, you grow more desperate. Especially as the potion’s critical stage approaches. You need to add minced Puffer-Fish soon, but if you add it now, when something is clearly wrong, you don’t know what will happen. Though, you doknow it will result in a useless potion.

Without warning, “You didn’t powder the Bone fine enough,” comes a husky voice. The sound vibrates right beside your ear, a warm breath simultaneously fanning across the outer shell of your ear. Abruptly, you jump in your seat, almost knocking the brass scales holding your meticulously measured Puffer-Fish mince to the floor.

Almost as if he’d anticipated your movement, Jimin’s hand shoots out to steady the apparatus. Although, even as his arm moves, he stays unbelievably close to you, and the proximity of his pillowy mouth next to your ears has goosebumps pricking at your skin. Angling your head, you come face to face with him, your eyes going wide. Directly adjacent to yours, his lips are just a hair’s breadth from yours - so close, in fact, that they virtually graze against yours. Heat creeps up: from the base of your throat, all the way up to the tips of your ears; and not expecting him to be so near, you jolt away.

The motion causes Jimin to quirk a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at you, and his reaction only has the flush to your cheeks deepening. Ducking your head down, you tuck a stray hair behind your ear, and, “Oh… I didn’t realise,” you mutter under your breath.

The instant the words fall from your lips you blanch, internally kicking yourself. I didn’t realise. What a joke. You’d fucked up your entire potion and all you could say was I didn’t realise. By Morgana, you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Here you are, a Potions Apprentice, and you hadn’t realised the bone wasn’t powdered fine enough. How had you even made it here? Especially since the potion you’d managed to botch was the Skele-Gro potion; one taught to second years. Meanwhile, your Blood-Replenishing potion, an expert recipe, is completely perfect and complete.

If Jimin cares about your response, he doesn’t say anything. Rather, he gestures towards your cauldron. “Why are you brewing three potions at once? Even brewing onerequires all your attention and concentration,” he states plainly, causing you to wince imperceptibly. He doesn’t mean to, but inadvertently, he’s rubbed salt into your wound.

“Madam Pomfrey’s running out of certain potions and I offered to help replenish them,” you reply, your voice coming out quieter than you’d intended to. Jimin simply hums.

“I guess that explains the potions you’re making. I was almost worried,” he says, his soft lips pulling tight as a lop-sided smirk crawls onto his mouth.

Not understanding, your eyebrows knit together. “Worried?” you frown. Jimin’s smirk only deepens, before he lounges back on the cream sofa. The movement draws attention to his strong body, his toned muscles bulging under his shirt, while his thighs strain against the tight material of his slacks.

“I mean, you’re brewing Blood-Replenishing, Skele-Gro and Wound-Cleaning potions out of the blue, any sensible person would be worried about their safety. I was starting to fear that you’d hex me, and then heal me before I could report you,” he jokes.

Swiftly, your jaw drops, and hastily shaking your head, “I would never-” you begin retorting, only for Jimin to hold up a hand and halt you.

“Yes, yes, you would never hurt me. Or anyone for that matter. I know, ____. It was just a joke,” Jimin cuts you off with a chuckle. “Besides, you’re too much of a Hufflepuff to think of anything so cunning,” he continues. His words have you blushing harder, your bottom lip protruding in a slight pout. After a brief pause, he nods to your cauldrons once again. “Anyway, that doesn’t explain why you’re brewing three at a time,” he says, his sentence phrased more like a question. With a sigh, you feel your shoulders deflate with weariness and lifting up a hand, you rub the bridge of your nose.

“She needs them as soon as possible. Quidditch games are going to start soon, and she’ll need all her potions restocked by then. If I don’t get them out of the way today, I won’t have any time to do them between Head Girl Duties and the Apprenticeship,” you answer

“Hmm… Still though… three potions at once is a lot. More than that, if they’re healing potions, you need to be even more careful. One wrong step and it could mean the difference between life and death,” he lectures. You know he means it well, and he doesn’t mean to upset you, but you can’t help the way your stomach sinks at his words.

He’s completely right - potion making, at its heart, is both a science and an artform. Of course, most magic requires careful consideration, however, potions even more so. Namely because, as he’d said, the slightest error could change the entire nature of the potion. That exact reason is why you’re here, as a Potion’s Apprentice. You see, your life’s dream is to qualify as a Healer, and in order to be a Healer, you now need to have some sort of post-N.E.W.T qualifications in either Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts or Herbology. Of course, it hadn’t always been like this. Before the Second Wizarding War, once a student had graduated from Hogwarts, they would be required to enter into a Healer’s program, or any job really, straight away.

However, once Voldemort had been defeated, the entire Wizarding World had needed to rebuild itself - having lost too much in the aftermath of the Final Battle. In a way, it had been somewhat of a - morbid - blessing; mainly because, it had meant that the stagnating magical community had grown and bolstered itself into the twenty-first century. One of the consequenting changes, had been the reintroduction of Apprenticeships and Masterships, meaning that students now had an option to gain an extra qualification or two that would better prepare them for the future jobs - kind of similar to the muggle equivalent of university. Though, of course, these apprenticeships continued through Hogwarts, rather than a separate magical institute.

Naturally, with your dream job being a healer, you’d taken up the Potion’s Apprenticeship. Mostly due to the fact that you want to work in the Cures and Remedies Department of St. Mungo’s: a department dedicated to brewing potions, as well as creating new ones for the ever-developing medical needs in the Wizarding Community. Which is also why Jimin’s lecture hits you harder. If you were already making such silly mistakes, you’ll sooner fail your dream than achieve it - and probably kill or harm a few people while you’re at it.

Realising that Jimin had stopped talking, a tense silence befalling the two of you while you wallow in self-pity, “I’m sorry,” you mutter under your breath. As soon as he hears the despondent tone to your voice, Jimin’s face softens.

“No need to apologise, you didn’t do it maliciously,” Jimin says. Then, nudging your knee with his foot, “Scoot over,” he says.

Eyebrows creasing, curiosity colours your face as you watch him close his book, before waving his wand and muttering a couple spells under his breath. Immediately, his parchment rolls up into a scroll, before flying through the air and into his bedroom; along with the rest of his things. Once he’s cleared his stuff, he scuttles off of the sofa, and onto the floor beside you. In your confusion, you hadn’t moved quick enough, and as a result, Jimin’s crossed knee falls onto your lap. With a blank stare, you glance down at his thick thigh, and feeling the weight of his limb onto yours, you quickly kick yourself into motion.

Shuffling to the side, you make space for Jimin, the Head Boy slotting into the space next to you and under your blanket - the cover draping over his own lap. In your new position, he’s now level with you, your pantyhose-clad knee brushing against his while your shoulders practically touch. He’s close enough that the scent of his expensive cologne is more prominent: notes of sandalwood and bergamot dancing in the air and through your senses. The woodsy-sweet aroma virtually entrances you, your head swimming with the beguiling fragrances and beckoning you to sink deep into them. For a moment, you take a deep, albeit subtle, breath - wanting to breathe it in even more. Nonetheless, Jimin’s voice is swiftly breaking you out of your trance.

“You need to add minced Puffer-Fish to this, right?” he asks as he peers at the Skele-Gro potion, the rancid-green liquid still bubbling under the high heat of your bunsen burner. Abruptly coming to your senses, you nod, trying to ignore the fuzzy warmth that settles in the pits of your stomach. “If you add it now, it’s most likely going to result in Skele-Gro,” Jimin mumbles, and hearing him, you immediately perk up. Perhaps all wasn’t lost yet. That is, until you hear him continue. “Except… it will probably result in the bones continuously growing without stopping - even once they’ve fixed themselves.”

“Oh. So I need to start over?” you ask as you pull your bottom teeth between your lips. Did you even have time for that? Or ingredients? If you go down to Slughorn’s Office in order to get a fresh supply, he’ll most likely question why and you’d rather notexplain that it’s because you’d been incompetent enough to mess up a second year level potion.

Jimin hums in thought. “No, I don’t think so. You’re also brewing Wound-Cleaning Potion, yes? That means you have Dittany Essence?” he asks, causing you to nod and pass him the dark-blue vial. “Adding three drops should counteract the effects and bring it back to what it’s supposed to be,” he continues, and you watch as he uncaps the glass bottle, before carefully pipetting exactly three drops of the solution into the cauldron. After placing the Dittany Essence back down, he stirs the potion anticlockwise five-times, and you observe in complete awe as the potion returns to a pale orange - the exact colour it's supposed to be.

“How did you…?” you breathe out, astonishment heavily lacing your voice. Beside you, Jimin simply shrugs.

“It’s a common mistake second years make when brewing Skele-Gro… not powdering the bone finely enough, I mean. Adding three drops of Dittany Essence and then stirring anticlockwise five times brings it back,” he replies casually. Despite his nonchalant tone, though, you find your body slackening with defeat.

“I can’t believe I made such a stupid mistake…” you mumble under your breath. The self-deprecating tone to your voice has Jimin clicking his tongue at you in a tut as he nudges your knee with his.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. You’re brewing three potions at once - and two of them are advanced potions. Both of which you’ve brewed perfectly so far. You probably didn’t notice that the powdered bone wasn’t fine enough because you didn’t expect to mess up a simple potion,” Jimin immediately says - in a bid to comfort you. It works, because swiftly, you feel your stomach flip: butterflies blooming in the pits of your abdomen at his praise.

Against your will, a smile creeps onto your face - the corners of your lips tugging, and, “Thank you,” you mutter under your breath. A tinkling laugh slips through Jimin’s lips, and he bumps his shoulder into yours.

“You’re a perfectionist and a hard worker, ____. Both of those traits make a good Potioneer, ____. Which you are. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be here. You need to stop beating yourself up over small things,” he continues. His face is twisted into a bright smile, his plump lips stretched thin and displaying his teeth, as the apples of his cheeks bunch under his eyes - causing his eyelids to slit into thin, crescent-moons. Your own lips tug into a sheepish smile, and you look at him gratefully.

“I know… it’s just such a silly mistake,” you respond.

Jimin snorts at your answer, and, “Everyone makes silly mistakes. Even a Potions Master or Mistress. It’s inevitable with the amount of potions we brew,” he scoffs. His words placate you even further, and you feel your earlier upset fade to nothingness - replaced by ease. Sensing the fact that you’ve perked up, Jimin grabs the rest of the prepared ingredients for the Skele-Gro potion. You look at him in surprise, Jimin simply smiling kindly in response.

“Why don’t you focus on the Wound-Cleaning potion? I’ll finish up the Skele-Gro,” he suggests. Swiftly, you shake your head.

“No, no. It’s okay! I’ll be more careful! You don’t need to help if you’re busy,” you quickly refuse - not wanting to be a burden - as you reach for the ingredients once again. Jimin simply scowls, and holding out his arms, he uses his strength to bar your hands from touching the tray.

“I’m not busy - I was just doing some light research on Phoenix Tears. Now be a goodgirl and let me help you,” he hisses. The instant the command falls from his lips, you feel your stomach twist, and your eyes widen slightly at the command. For a moment you still, not expecting them. There’s a playful lilt to his voice, and you know he doesn’t mean anything by it; yet, you still find your arms obediently dropping to your side.

Head ducking down, you turn your gaze to the surface of the table in front of you, in an attempt to hide your face from Jimin’s view. It would not do well for him to see the barest hint of a blush on your face. Especially since he hadn’t meant it in that way in the first place. Nodding your head, you acquiesce to him, and begin working on your potion once again; Jimin taking over for the second one.

The two of you work in near silence - the quiet broken up by the sounds of the bubbling potion, and the hissing of the fire. Intermittently, the blunt sound of chopping or the sound of the pestle grinding into the mortar echoes through the air: the two of you continuously prepping your ingredients as you brew your potion. With how close you are to each other, you practically invade each other’s space, and yet, as if by magic, neither of you get into each other’s way. While you concoct your respective draughts, every now and then, you find your attention wandering towards Jimin.

In the midst of brewing, Jimin is fascinatingly exquisite. That’s the only way you could describe it. Warm honey-kissed skin glows under the saffron lights of your dorms, the high arcs of his cheekbones glistening with every movement. The button of his nose is slightly scrunched, and similarly, his lips are pulled into a tight purse: his entire visage an epitome of concentration. The potion is easy, and an elixir he could very well brew in his sleep. Nevertheless, he focuses on each and every one of his actions, working meticulously and methodically as he concocts his potion.

Deft hands move expertly, alternating from preparing the different ingredients and adding them to the mixture, to carefully stirring the potion. Umber eyes scrupulously watch the simmering cauldron, his keenly trained gaze observing the elixir for even the slightest changes. You have no doubt that under his ever watchful eyes, the potion will be of the highest quality, even with how relatively easy it is to create. At some point, you finish your potion, and turning off of your bunsen burner, you turn your attention to Jimin. Unable to help yourself, you find yourself completely lost in how he effortlessly works; each movement, each gesture, completely second nature to him. It’s an artform. It has to be. At least, with the way he works it is.

You don’t know how long you watch him - but with each second that passes, you note something more about Jimin. You notice the way his eyes light up every time he successfully completes a stage, and the way the soft skin of his eyelids flutter, thick eyelashes kissing his cheeks, every time he blinks. You notice the slight sheen of perspiration that coats the back of his neck, most likely from the heat of the bunsen burner, rather than tenseness. Mesmerised by the movement, you follow a single drop of sweat - watching the way it trails down the thick curve of his neck and over the subtle bulge of his Adam’s apple, before percolating into the collar of his shirt.

Out of the blue, Jimin lets out a deep sigh, and with how intensely you observe him, you notice the way his shoulders ease - the movement so faint your eyes essentially strain to spot the movement. The motion is surprising, because the potion is easy, and yet, he still felt some level of tension. Though, that only leads you to appreciate him and his love for potions even more. Potion Making is easy for Jimin, and for the greatest part of it, it comes instinctually to him - but still, he takes the utmost care with each brew - no matter what the difficulty.

A strained groan resonates through the air, Jimin’s throat rumbling as he stretches out the kinks in his muscles. Thoughtlessly, he lifts his arms above his head, the muscles of his biceps pulling taut against the material of his shirt, and the motion causes the hem of his shirt to rise above the waistband of his black slacks. Against your will, your gaze finds itself drawn towards his waist, your eyes honing in on the sliver of his smooth skin of his hips that peeks through the gap. You don’t eye it for long, however, because as soon as it comes it's gone, Jimin’s hands drop down to his sides; the shirt’s hem consequently falling back into place.

“Are you all done?” his voice suddenly tears through the silence, and abruptly, your eyes snap back up to his - watching as he flicks off the flame under his cauldron.

“W-What?” you stutter, prompting Jimin to arch a strong eyebrow.

“Are you done with the Wound-Cleaning potion?” Jimin reiterates, purposely enunciating each of his words. Owlishly, you blink at him, your stare completely blank. At the same time, your brain slowly processes his words, your mind still slightly spellbound by his previous beguile, and eventually, you process his words.

Jerking slightly, “Yes!” you practically yelp, only to wince at the loudness of your own voice. Swiftly, you compose yourself, and clearing your throat, “Sorry… yes. I’m done,” you mumble. A look of concern flashes across Jimin’s face, and carefully he sweeps his gaze over you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and the clear worry etched into his voice has your heart fluttering.

“Y-Yes,” you squeak out, wanting nothing more than to bury yourself into the blanket over your laps. For a fleeting instant, Jimin watches you carefully, and momentarily, you fear he’s going to press you further. Nonetheless, a couple of seconds later, he’s shrugging you off.

Glancing at the grandfather clock nestled in one unassuming corner of your shared common room, “Oh wow. Has it really been that long? It’s almost dinner time,” he murmurs, an astonished inflexion lacing his voice. Following his gaze, your own eyebrows widen when you spot the ornate clock, the baroque hands reading six-thirty. “I’m going to go shower and then head down,” Jimin begins as he gets up from his space beside you. His movement causes the blanket to partially fall off of your lap, exposing your right leg to the air, and involuntarily, you shudder at the cold.

“Go on then, I’ll wait for you,” you readily respond as you pull the blanket back over your lap. Drawn up to his full height, Jimin looks down at you curiously.

“Are you sure? I may be a while,” he replies, causing you to shrug and wave him off.

Waving your wand, you mutter an ‘Accio’ and summon a book from the shelves that line one wall of the common room. “Take as long as you need. I’m not hungry right now anyway. We can go down together when you’re done,” comes your own response.

Spinning on the heels of his Dragonhide boots, “Alright then. Thanks, ____,” he calls out as he walks back towards the bathroom. Your only response in a noncommittal hum, your attention already drawn to the book.

It’s almost half an hour later, when you hear Jimin return from the shower. Automatically peering up from your book, you move to close it - now more than hungry and ready to go down to dinner. Nonetheless, the moment you spot Jimin, you find yourself freezing. The door to the bathroom is wide open, clouds of steam gently drifting through the threshold and dancing around his frame as he steps into the common room. However, it’s not the water vapour that has your attention. No. it’s Jimin.

The very Jimin who is dressed in nothing but a thick towel wrapped around his waist.

Park Jimin is by no means short. Of course, compared to some of the other wizards that inhabit the castle, he’s not considered tall either. Nonetheless, he stands imposingly - a raw, powerful swagger that rolls off of his demeanour with every movement. It’s no wonder he’s considered the Slytherin Prince, and as he practically saunters out of the bathroom, with just a towel hanging off of his otherwise naked frame, you can’t help but feel that domineering aura. Droplets of water bead his skin, forming little rivulets as they run down his body and towards the hem of his towel.

The sheen of water that glazes his flesh catches the torchlight that surrounds you, causing his skin to glisten as he’s encased in a halo of gold. His hair is slightly damp, the deep green shade blackening to onyx; the wet tips sticking to his face. Helpless under his charm, your eyes trail down his body: from the corded muscles of his shoulders, down the smooth expanse of his torso - stopping briefly to take in the dusky-mauve nipples that grace his pectorals - and along the faint outline of his abs. When you get to the hem of the towel, your eyes coast over the definition of his hips: your heated stare charting the prominent ‘v’ that carves itself into his pelvis.

Trailing your gaze further down, you level it at his covered crotch. The terry cloth material of his towel is bulky, and effectively hides the rest off his body from your gaze - the bottom edge grazing just past his knees. Still, as he walks, you spot the barest hint of his muscular thigh - the limb peeking through the slit of the towel as he walks towards his bedroom. With each movement, heat flashes across your skin, your spine tingling as you find your stare honed in on his pelvis.

Then, all of a sudden, he’s stopping.

“See something you like, Sweetheart?” Jimin drawls, his voice cutting the terse silence that enwraps the room. Abruptly, you break from your trance, your gaze snapping up to his face.

His arms are crossed across his chest: the sinewy muscles of his biceps bulging under the movement; and his hip is cocked to the side, his knee sticking out through the fabric of his towel as he gazes at you. Wry, but voluptuous, lips are twisted: the thick petals of his mouth pulled in a lop-sided smirk, his teeth poking between the seam - almost predatorily; and taupe-brown eyes twinkle with mischief: a playful light dancing in the onyx depths. From the knowing glint to them, you know he’s spotted you brazenly devouring him with your gaze.

Heat immediately crawls over your cheeks, and you audible swallow, your throat suddenly tight. “N-No,” you squeak out, your head ducking further under the cover of your book. Though, even as you do that, your eyes peek over the edge - an action Jimin easily catches.

Smirk widening into a wolfish grin, “Are you sure, Princess?” he purrs and, hearing the nickname, you can’t help the way your stomach knots in the pit of your abdomen.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, your body curling further into the side of the sofa - in a bid to make yourself seem smaller. Jimin hums in response. The deep tremors reverberate through the air, echoing through the quiet common room and causing your breath to hitch.

Jimin’s tongue pokes out through the seam of his pouty mouth, and after swiping it across the plush bottom lip, he pulls the petal between his teeth. The act is incredibly enticing: the plush flesh slowly slipping from under his incisors before plumping out once more. Entranced by the movement, your eyes narrow onto his lips, and you suddenly feel your throat run dry. Spotting the way your attention focuses onto his mouth, Jimin lets out a low chuckle, and hearing the rich sound vibrate through the air, you inhale a sharp audible breath.

The sound resonates through the common room, heightened by the quiet - and swiftly, you feel the heat that stains your skin intensify. Body burning under your own embarrassment, you practically curl into the foetal position: your knees pulling towards your chest, a small squeak emanating through your mouth. Hearing the sound, Jimin simply chuckles again, and this time, taking pity on your form, he drops the subject and walks towards his bedroom.

“Cute,” he laughs you off as he shuts the door to his private room. The moment you hear that word, you can’t help the pout that forms onto your face, nor the way you blush ever harder.

Cute.

God you hated when he teased you like that. Partly because of the way a fuzzy warmth settles into your stomach, and partly because you know that’s all you’ll ever be to Park Jimin.

Cute.

Having lived with Jimin for three years, you think you know him pretty well. You know him well enough to know that he keeps Sugar Quills hidden around the dorm, practically addicted to the confectionery; and that he writes letters to his mother once a week, usually on Saturday, in his free time. You know that when he’s had a particularly hard week, he unwinds by reading his prized, first edition copy of ‘The Twelve Uses of Dragon’s Blood’ - a tome he’s had to have read thousands of times by now. You know that despite him being the heir to the Park name - an age old, aristocratic pureblood line that dates back centuries - he doesn’t care about status, or power, and rather judges people on their own merits and hardwork.

You also know that Park Jimin, as sweet as he is, is the biggest playboy the school has ever seen - actively flirting with any and all the other apprentices from the other subjects. It’s not like he could help it. In fact, you’re sure that it’s practically ingrained in his nature. Though, when he looks like that - a frightening middle between incredibly adorable and devastatingly sexy - you sort of understand it. Because if you looked like that, you’d take any and every opportunity to use it as best as you could. And Park Jimin definitely used his allure

A terrifying mix of cunning, ambitious, sweet and distressingly handsome, Park Jimin has probably broken more hearts than you can count; and is most likely the sole reason for every Apprentice’s wet dreams. Girls flocked to him, and boys wanted to be him - so it’s no surprise that Jimin was highly sought after - nor that he was the biggest flirt you’ve ever met. Hence why you hated when he flirted with you. Mostly because, you know he never does it seriously. And also because the last thing any of the girls he actually flirts with are, is cute.

You would know.

You’ve seen them sneak out of your dorms on the off chance he brings them over. Though, more often than not, he tends to sneak into their private quarters. That is, of course, if they aren’t one of the Potions Apprentices from the lower years. You and Jimin being in your third year of the Apprentice program, and your tenth and final year of Hogwarts. That is, of course, unless either of you choose to do your Mastership - which would be another five years.

If you’re being honest, you don’t really have anything against being cute - mainly because when he says it, he says it with a sweet smile. What you do have against it, however, is that he says it almost as if you’re a child, and not a grown, twenty-one-year-old woman. Though, that may be more to do with your own shyness and inexperience; especially in terms of the opposite sex. But still, you couldn’t deny that it hurts sharing a dorm with Jimin, and being in such close proximity, and yet still having him not be attracted to you.

Sure, he flirts with you - using any opportunity he can get to tease the ever-loving hell out of you. But it’s not like he means it, or that he ever takes it any further than his flirtatious banter. Not like he does with most other girls. No. When Jimin flirts with you, there’s always an air of jest, and restraint around him. He doesn’t stare at you with his smouldering gaze - as if he could devour you whole with just his eyes. He doesn’t lower his voice to that raspy husk of his - the one that is filled with a promise of sin. And he definitely doesn’t exude that same aura of raw dominance - the one that has most girls’ cores trembling with an ache that only he can satiate.

Of course, what you do have, in comparison to those other girls, is Jimin’s friendship - which is more than you can say for most of them. Particularly because most of Jimin’s friends tend to be the other guys on the Apprentice Program. After all, it’s hard to befriend the people you’re constantly trying to sleep with, or have slept with. You think. You don’t really know… You know, considering your own sexual inexperience with other men. Yes, Jimin has never shown any interest in you, and he’s never really flirted with you seriously, but at least you can say that you’re actual friends, and that you get on with each other beyond wanting to tear each other’s clothes off.

Although, needless to say, you doubt he’s ever thought of tearing your clothes off.

Which is… not something you can say about yourself.

Lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Jimin return - now fully dressed. At least, not until you feel his plush lips ghost against your ear. “Are you ready to go?” comes the low, sultry purr of his voice. Not expecting the sound, you immediately jump in your seat, your head whipping to the side as you stare at him wide eyed. Once again, you come face to face with him - the proximity making you jerk back with a strangled cry.

“Jimin!” you shriek in surprise, and your choked yelp has the Head Boy bursting into a peal of laughter. Heart thundering within the confines of your chest, and the ever-present flush of embarrassment painting your cheeks once again, “Stop doing that!” you chastise, your face twisting into a sulk as you glare at him. Entire body wracked with laughter, Jimin heaves for air as he tries to catch his breath - short gasps breaking through his howling.

When he continues to laugh, your lips twist into a deeper pout, and your glare intensifies; and sensing your rising ire, Jimin swiftly holds up his hands in a motion of surrender. “Sorry, Sorry. You were just so lost in thought, I couldn’t help it,” he chuckles while wiping his teary eyes. “What were you thinking about that had you so enraptured?” he asks, an impudent smile etched onto his lips. Remembering just whatyou’d been thinking about, your blush deepens, and you swiftly shake your head.

“Nothing!” you quickly interject. The abruptness of your answer has Jimin cocking his eyebrow, and eyes narrowing playfully, he looks at you - mischief dancing in his dark eyes.

“Oh? Doesn’t sound like nothing,” he purrs. Then, eyes widening in thought, a smirk creeps onto his face, “Hmmm. Were you thinking about me? Maybe something along the lines about how you’d seen me in just a towel a little earlier?” he croons, and you suck in a sharp breath at the low huskiness to his voice. That’s a first.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you swiftly shake your head while throwing the blanket off of you. “N-No. I was thinking a-about how h-hungry I am,” you quickly snap, wincing slightly at the shakiness to your voice. It’s a brazen lie. Even you don’t believe you. And there’s no way in hell that Jimin does, at least not from the sly smirk curled onto his lips.

“Are you now? Hungry for food, or something else?” he teasingly quips, causing you to huff.

“S-Shut up. Let’s just go,” you mutter under your breath, your head angled to the ground as to try to hide your own mortification.

Jimin simply laughs at you, his shoulders shaking with mirth, “Whatever you say, Princess.”

On the seventh floor of the North Tower, the next day, you sit in the Divination classroom. Warped shelves frame the circular room, cluttered with various odd curios. Fading tarot cards, argentate scrying mirrors and lustrous crystal balls fill half of the shelves; china teacups, dust-lined feathers, and candle stubs filling the other half. Wooden furniture crams the room, the walnut timber long since scratched, chipped and faded: ravaged with time as some edges collect dust. The classroom is dim, with a few shafts of mellowed sunlight filtering through the greyed, heavy velvet curtains that hang from the tops of the arched windows.

Chandeliers dangled by wrought iron chains - and sheer, red scarves cover the lamps, bathing the room in an eerie crimson glow. A fireplace sits in the front of the room - right by Professor Trelawney’s table - the amber fire flickering behind cast iron grating. Though, rather than illuminating the space in its light, the dancing flames only add to the arcane feel surrounding the room. A brass kettle swings over the hearth as the tea leaves steep; and a sweet, woody scent wafts through the room. Sat at one of the many round tables nestled inside the room, you sink further into the paisley upholstered armchair, watching as the girl opposite you shuffles the Tarot deck effortlessly.

“Do you want a specific reading?” Eve, the eighth year prefect, asks.

Shrugging noncommittally, “Just whatever,” you reply. Eve huffs for a second time, blowing a thick black curl out of her eyes before glaring at you.

“You could at least attempt to take Divination seriously you know, even if you don’t believe in it,” she scolds.

Sending her an apologetic smile, “You know I’m only here to help you with your Divination homework.” Once again, Eve huffs. Nonetheless, with the way her shoulders relax, you know she doesn’t take offence by your words.

“Alright fine,” she sighs in defeat. Then, sending you a grateful look, “Thank you for this by the way. I know you’re busy, being Head Girl and in the last year of your Apprenticeship and all,” she continues, her nose wrinkling in the slightest.

Gracing Eve with a kind smile, you casually wave her off, “It’s alright. I owe you for helping us out anyway,” you respond. From behind you, you hear a low chuckle, causing the hair at the back of your neck to stand on edge as you hear the rich sound.

“You mean we owe her one, Princess.” Breath catching in your throat, you swallow imperceptibly, willing yourself to calm down. “Well, more specifically, I owe her one,” he continues as an afterthought.

His words cause your stomach to flip, butterflies flurrying through and leaving a fuzzy feeling in the pit of your abdomen. Angling your body in the chair, you turn, only to be met face to face with Jimin. With how cramped the Divination classroom is, there’s usually barely any space between the side edges of the various chairs. However, currently, the classroom is mostly empty, less than ten of you occupying it. And yet, somehow, you still find yourself impossibly close to him.

Eyes blowing out marginally, your mouth forms a surprised ‘o’ at the distance, or lack thereof, between the two of you. With how close you are, you can smell his sickeningly sweet breath - the scent of Sugar Quills so strong you can practically taste them on your taste buds. Swiftly realising your position, you back away in an abrupt movement - your chair scraping against the hardwood flooring. The screeching noise draws the attention of the other students, the muted, ambient murmurs coming to a halt as they turn to you.

Your cheeks immediately flush, the heat of embarrassment crawling from your throat to the tips of your ears. Ducking your head down, you sheepishly smile at the class and mumble out a ‘sorry’. At your apology, the rest of the students quickly turn back to their divinations, causing you to let out a breath of relief. Only for it to hitch when you hear the light tremors of Jimin’s tinkling laugh.

Turning back around, you flick your gaze over Jimin’s face. Dark hair - the colour of blackened pine - frames his face, the strands falling like silk over his head. His locks are parted in the middle today, rather than hanging loosely in front of his forehead, and the front-most tresses bear a slight wave; revealing soft lids and sharp brown eyes. Dressed in his white oxford shirt - his Slytherin robes hung loosely over the backrest - and his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, he looks the epitome of sin. It doesn’t help that his tie is loose around his neck either, the top button of his collar undone and revealing the thick arc of his throat, and the barest hint of his defined collarbones.

He’s lounging in his chair, his ankles crossed as he stretches them under the table. One of his elbows is pressed to the armrest, leaning his chin on the base of his palm, while his other arm is stretched out, long fingers drumming casually on the table. As your gaze roves over him, you can’t help the fuzzy feeling that settles in your stomach as he stares at you - obsidian eyes practically staring into your soul. Easily, he spots the fact that you’re staring at him, and immediately, a teasing smirk pulls at generous lips, his strong eyebrow quirking playfully.

“See something you like, Sweetheart?” he purrs, his sweet voice a few octaves lower as he mimics the sentiment from last night. The memory him dressed in nothing but a towel flashes in your mind: the sight of his muscular, wet body ingrained so deeply in your mind that just the recollection of it manifests itself as something incredibly tangible. A shiver runs down your spine at memory, as well as the deep tremors of his voice, and as the hairs at the back of your neck stand on edge, you duck your head - in a bid to hide your flushing cheeks.

“N-No,” you stutter out, and with the way your voice croaks, your blush deepens. Hearing your stammer, Jimin’s grin widens - his heated gaze roving over you almost predatorily. Responsively, you feel yourself shying from his eyes, your body curling into itself protectively.

Noting your reaction, Jimin lets out an airy laugh. God, you were such a Hufflepuff. He wasn’t one to often believe in the whole ‘students embodied their house traits’ bullshit - after all, people weren’t set into specific personality moulds. But when it came to you? It couldn’t be more true. A Hufflepuff through and through, you’re as hardworking as you are kind - and downright humble about it. It had been an incredible surprise when you’d been chosen as the Head-Girl beside him, most people expecting it to go to Penelope Graham. However, to everyone’s utter shock, it had gone to you instead, your scores in the Apprenticeship second only to himself. A fact that you’d kept to yourself, despite Penelope being one of the brightest Ravenclaws Hogwarts had ever seen, and a stellar Herbology Apprentice.

Thus, your grades, paired with your hard work throughout the years; not to mention your kindness, and willingness to help anyone, had landed you the Head Girl position. A choice that was still a sore subject for Penelope, who would lament about it to anyone and everyone. Nevertheless, if Jimin was being completely honest about it, however, he much preferred you to Penelope. And not just because Penelope didn’t know how to shut her mouth. Even when it was full of his cock. Though, he’d also be lying if he said it wasn’t partially because of that. Really, he didn’t know how she managed to prattle off constantly while still managing to breathe, and sucking his dick. It was almost magic. Pardon the pun.

No, you were a much better fit to him. Your patience was known through the school, and paired with your strong sense of fairness, it meant that most pupils, if not all, would more often approach you for help with their problems. And as a happy result, they’d leave him alone to get on with the more important duties. In fact, that’s exactly how you’d split your workload: you’d handle the student-body and prefects and anything pertaining to people in general, and he’d work on the other more mundane tasks; such as patrol duties, ensuring Prefect rosters for Hogsmeade weekends were sorted and all those odd bits and bobs.

Needless to say, it’s not like Jimin didn’t want to help the students. He doesn’t mindhelping them, and as Head Boy, he’d be duty bound to sort out whatever petty problems they have. He’d just do it begrudgingly, because the last thing he cares about are the frivolous issues of the student body. Really, who cared if Jonah Robins sat at the table Amber Cowen and her friends usually sat at in the library? A problem he knew you’d dealt with just a little over a week ago. Somehow, you’d managed to convince Jonah to leave the girls alone and all balance between the third years had settled. Something which caused Jimin to scoff. See, if it had been him dealing with it, he’d just tell the girls to find another table. Because it’s a table and it didn’t matter where they sat, as long as they did their work.

But that’s just him.

You, on the other hand, had a better sense of justice - and finding out that Jonah had purposely sat at the table to annoy the girls - you’d gotten him to move. Of course, most of the problems presented by the students were of similar nature - and Jimin didn’t understand how you had the tolerance to deal with them day in and day out without going insane. Though, that was just another one of the classic Hufflepuff traits manifesting in your personality. Honestly, he doesn’t think he’s ever met someone more Hufflepuff in his life.

“Uhh… Jimin?” you quietly call out to him, and his eyes widen slightly as he’s broken out of his contemplative reverie. Facial expression relaxing, Jimin realises he must have been intensely scrutinising you for the past couple of minutes - completely lost in his own thoughts.

Eyes casting over your face, he observes you for a moment. You refuse to look at him, your eyes skimming over the room as you actively avoid his gaze. Incessantly, you cross and uncross your legs, your body fidgeting under his heavy stare, and sensing the thick waves of nervousness that exude off of your being, Jimin’s lips twist into a mischievous smirk. And there it was. The one trait of yours that had piqued his attention when he’d first been officially introduced to you three years ago. Your timidness.

“Is something the matter, Princess?” he drawls, a perfectly trimmed eyebrow cocking. Immediately, you freeze, your cheeks heating even further as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth; only to gnaw at it. God, Jimin groans internally, you were so easy to provoke.

“N-No,” you stammer once again.

Lolling his head to the side, and resting his cheek in his palm, Jimin graces you with a sly smile. “Really? You look like you have something on your mind?” Then, flashing his teeth almost devilishly, “Maybe something from last night?” he hums. There’s clear innuendo in his voice, and unintentionally, you let out a little squeak. The sound is high-pitched, and just barely audible as it’s forced from the back of your throat.

“Last night?” Eve asks, her voice curious as she glances between the two of you. The heat of your mortification burns even brighter, so inflamed now that it starts sweltering your skin. Breath caught in your throat, you gnaw even harder on your lips - almost breaking the skin from how much you chew it. What are you going to even tell her? Nonetheless, before you can come up with an excuse, Jimin is already opening up his mouth.

“Just a small mishap in the Potions Apprentice Common Room. It’s none of your business. Shouldn’t you get on with your reading, anyway? I’d like to go back as soon as possible,” he interrupts, drawing Eve’s attention back to her homework. Face scrunching in distaste, she glowers at him.

With a huff, “You’re clearly lying to me. But fine, if you don’t want to tell me that’s your business,” she mutters, a scowl curled on her lips. Then after a short pause, “Also, if you don’t want to be here you don’t have to be. Feel free to leave,” she bites. Jimin discernibly bristles, and sensing his rising indignation - most likely from Eve’s snapping at him - you quickly hold up a hand.

“Why don’t we all just calm down?” you calmly say, smiling gently at both of them. Both Eve and Jimin open their mouths to argue, before closing them; Jimin shrugging his shoulders offhandedly while Eve lets out a deep, conceding breath. Turning to Jimin, your earlier embarrassment slowly ebbs away and you clear your throat, “You don’t have to be here you know. I was the one who offered to help.”

Jimin scoffs in response before waving you off dismissively. “The only reason you offered to help was so that Eve would take up setting up the Yule ball in my place,” he begins.

“Yes, because you have that Wizarding Chess competition you want to go to,” you butt in, causing Jimin to nod.

“Yeah. A competition I could have skipped. But you asked Eve to help you instead, so I could basically shirk my Head Boy duties, and it’s now more work for you,” he explains. Once again, you shake your head.

“It’s not that much work. Besides, I don’t mind. You’ve been talking about this tournament since last year, I know you’ve been looking forward to it,” you cut him off once again. Jimin halts for a moment, simply looking at you, a picture perfect expression of stoicism painted across his face.

Honestly, who were you trying to kid? He knows how much work the Yule ball is, and that while third-year Apprentice’s tend to have more free time (and hence why they now have the Head Boy or Girl position in comparison to seventh year N.E.W.T students), you’ve taken up a few more of the Prefect’s duties, since the seventh year Winter Exams are coming up soon. More than that, with how often students come up to you for help, your official duties tend to get pushed on the backburner even further. Hence why you’d had to brew three potions last night. Once again, he has no idea how you do it. Or why you do it. You’re way too courteous, and far too kind - even to the people you don’t know.

Letting out a sigh, “It is more work. Which is why I’m here. Even if I’m not really helping, I’m going to see it through with you,” Jimin says. Involuntarily, you feel your chest tighten, that telltale warmth flurrying through your stomach as your heart flutters within your chest. Before you can thank him, however, Eve bangs her tarot deck on the table.

“Maybe you’ll let me do a reading for you then?” she asks, her top lip curling shrewdly as she smirks at Jimin. The Slytherin Head Boy simply sneers in response.

Turning his attention back to his open textbook, “Yeah sure. When Merlin rises from the dead,” he snickers under his breath. Then, “Just get on with the reading,” he mutters. Eve’s mouth curls into a snarl, but before the eighth-year Gryffindor can respond, you draw her attention.

“Should we start?” you say, an encouraging smile on your face. Eve’s gaze flicks to behind you, and for a moment, you think she’s going to say something. However, she simply takes a deep breath and calms herself down.

“Alright, yeah,” she says, returning her own apologetic smile. “You don’t want any particular reading, do you?” she asks, and when you shake your head, she smiles. “Then, it’s okay if I pick one?” she questions. This time you nod, and Eve’s smile brightens. “Alright, wonderful! Then… I’m going to do one on love and sex,” she continues. Immediately, you choke on your own spit.

“Eve!” you splutter, causing her to look at you, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“What? I’m almost nineteen, I’m allowed to do them,” she says, her voice laced with faux innocence. Scowling slightly, you send her a pointed look.

“That’s not the point!” you try to argue.

Swiftly, a coy smile creeps onto Eve’s lips, “Oh? Does the prim and proper Head Girl have something to hide?” she sing-songs. Feeling an intense stare on the back of your head, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You don’t even need to turn around. You already know Jimin’s attention is on you both once again.

“N-No! It’s just-” you begin, only to deflate. What could you even say? Sensing your defeat, Eve snickers.

“Well, if you don’t, then there’s nothing wrong with me doing one, is there?” she asks. With no way out of the situation, your shoulders fall and you let out a muted noise of concession. “Perfect! Then, I’ll begin,” Eve continues.

With her mind made up, Eve begins to work. She starts by setting up her reading space: placing three candles onto the table. A pink one sits at the top of the table, right in front of you, while a white one sits in the left corner on her side, a purple one on the other. The candles form a large triangle, her tarot deck placed right in front of her, and an incense burner sitting right in the middle of the table. After the candles, she begins by placing her crystals down: rose-quartz and garnet are placed on the corners beside the pink candle on your side, and then an onyx on her side - in another triangular shape. Once she’s set up, she waves her wand - four bottles flying from one of the shelves that lines the classroom and into her hand. From the inky scrawl on the labels, you read them as ‘dried cherries, ‘saffron sprigs’, ‘steeped deer musk’ and ‘jasmine-infused oil’.

Meticulously, she adds the ingredients to her incense pot: exactly four teaspoons of dried cherries, half a sprig of saffron and three drops of the steeped deer musk. Once she’s done, she adds two tablespoons of the jasmine oil, before crushing it all together using a pestle. Once the mixture has formed a smooth paste, she inspects the concoction, before nodding in satisfaction - happy with her handy work. Carefully, you watch her. The eighth year Gryffindor is sly, and witty, and more often than not a handful to deal with. Still, she’s kind, and helpful; and when practising Divination - her favourite subject - there is no one who’s more reverent than her.

Fully prepared to begin her reading, Eve finally closes her eyes, and levelling her breathing, she takes in deep inhale before exhaling shallowly. From your divination class in fourth year, you know that she’s trying to find the centre of her magic. It only takes her a few moments, and then, she opens her eyes. Muttering a few spells under her breath, she points her wand towards the candles, slowly bringing them to life. She starts with the white candle, and then the purple, and finally the pink; and when she’s done, she taps her wand onto the incense burner.

Immediately, the mixture is enkindled, visible puffs of smoke wafting from the paste and into the air. The scent is rich, and fragrant - the notes of jasmine and cherry entwining together in a sweet aroma that has you entranced. The light perfume is deepened by the scent of the saffron and musk; the two heavier notes cutting the floral essence with a darker, more sensuous odour. The incense is inebriating, and calming at the same time, and you find yourself readily wanting to dive deeper into it’s intoxicating hold - let the scent consume you and lull you deep into its grasp.

With her ritual completed, she places her wand down onto the table beside and after a quick shuffle of her deck, she closes her eyes once again. Lips moving subtly, you hear her lowly mutter another spell, and then, she begins pulling the cards. Enraptured by her movements, you watch as she draws exactly five cards, placing them in a pentacle shape around the burner, and in the middle of the triangles of crystals and candles. Her eyes remain closed until she draws the fifth card, and then, eyebrows cinching slightly, she mutters another spell before finally opening her eyes.

Glancing down at the spread, she cocks her eyebrow, a small frown marring her face. The slight perturbation etched on her face has you intrigued, and practically on the edge of your seat, you wait for her to say something. You don’t have to wait long, however, because letting out a surprised whistle, “Well, this is certainly unexpected,” she breathes out.

“It is?” you ask, shuffling to the edge of your seat as you look at the cards closer. Eve hums in response.

“Yeah. The first card - The Hanged Man. You’re in need of urgent release. You’ve become rigid and careful, and there’s a strong need to release your inhibitions,” she begins. Only to pause, “But… you’re indecisive about what you want, and this suspension of your feelings is causing a sense of unhappiness. You need to open yourself emotionally, and more physically,” Eve begins explaining, her manicured nail tapping at the card as she speaks. Hearing her words, you immediately freeze, your muscles locking as Jimin’s face suddenly flashes in the back of your mind.

Oblivious to your shock, Eve continues, her finger moving to the next card, “The Devil. Usually, this card is ominous, and bears a sinister edge; one that most fear. However, in this reading, it’s a symbol of intense hedonism and fervent passion. It’s a card full of lust, an indicator for an intense yearning for a person. There’s a desire to submit; an overwhelming physical urge.” Her voice hangs heavy in the air, and with each word she utters, you feel yourself growing hotter and hotter; your collar suddenly tight. However, you refuse to move. You can’t move. Because you can feel Jimin’s heavy stare behind you, his presence magnified by the sudden silence of the room.

The dull sear of mortification settles in the pit of your stomach, and suddenly, you can feel all the students’ gaze on you. None of them, however, are as intense as Jimin’s; his eyes practically boring into the back of your skull. You want to open your mouth, to tell Eve to stop, lest you embarrass yourself any further. Nonetheless, you simply can’t bring yourself to do it. You don’t know why. Perhaps, it’s because your mouth is suddenly dry, almost as if you’ve swallowed cotton. Perchance it’s because your throat is tight, the muscles suddenly constricting - stifling any words that form in the back of your pharynx.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because a small, masochistic part of you is curious: intrigued by what else Eve will say, what else she will reveal… and perhaps even Jimin’s reaction.

“When The Lovers follow The Devil, that’s usually a sign of not only balanced, emotional love, but also physical desire. There’s a need to be touched, to be claimed, and consumed; and an even greater sexual hunger that covets your partner, or the object of your desires. You want to truly submit, with implicit trust and consent, to this person,” Eve’s deep, yet distant, voice continues. Again, however, she pauses - almost as if in thought, and staring intensely at the card, she bites her lips. “This could also be a sign that the person you desire, desires you back,” she mutters.

That has you audibly snorting. Yeah, right. You highly doubt that. For a moment, Eve flicks her gaze to you, her eyebrow quirking in intrigue, and swiftly, you send her an apologetic smile. Shifting in your seat, you sheepishly gesture for her to continue. Eve’s stare falls back to her cards, her hand moving to the fourth, and penultimate card.

“The Tower. The fear that giving into these lustful urges will be your undoing. To give into your desires will be to bring about a change that you aren’t necessarily ready for - or maybe that you think you’re not ready for - since it’ll lead to a significant change in your life. Still, this card is one of extreme surrender to chaos, a surrender that you are refusing, or resisting,” she begins once again.

Then, circling her nail around the card, and tapping - two audible thuds resounding through the air, “Nevertheless, the liberation that comes from giving in is an extraordinary release, even if the act of giving in is terrifying. The Tower is an important card. It is one that cannot and will not be avoided. The major life change must happen. It must be experienced for you to progress in life,” she foretells, her voice almost foreboding.

“Which brings us to the last, and final card. The Ace of Pentacles. This is usually a symbol about fresh career starts. However, in a reading about love, it tends to read as an egg wanting to be fertilised. The ten of pentacles is a family oriented card, but this one is the act of conception; the desire to engage in sex. However, it’s more than just carnal hunger. You want this person; truly and utterly. More than you probably even realise,” and with that last declaration, Eve finishes her reading.

A strong silence befalls the classroom, her last words lingering in the air and echoing in your mind over and over again. For long, drawn out moments, neither of you say anything - you: because you’re caught between mortified and speechless, and Eve: to let you truly grasp and process her words. The few students that straggle about are equally quiet, more than fascinated by the surprising divination. None, however, are more surprised than Jimin.

Unable to tear his eyes from the back of your head, he simply gawks at you. Truth be told, like you, he doesn’t believe in Divination; even with its roots nestled deep within magic, it’s still considered an imprecise school of wizardry. That being said, he can’t help the way your taromency has piqued his interest - especially, considering the fact that it’s a reading based on your love and sexual feelings. At first, he’d been ready to ignore both you and Eve, and happily sink into ‘Moste Potente Potions’ - a book he’d managed to liberate from the Restricted Section, thanks to not only his Head Boy status, but also his Apprenticeship.

However, the moment he’d heard Eve explain the first card, he’d been ensnared by your divination. With each word that had slipped out of Eve’s mouth, he’d grown more and more curious, not to mention shocked - because really, there was no way that that was your reading. Jimin has lived with you for three years now, and he likes to think he knows you well enough.

He knows you well enough to know that, no matter what, you refuse to drink pumpkin juice - finding the drink sickening - and yet, you adore pumpkin pasties; a treat you frequently buy on your trips to Hogsmeade. He knows that you can’t fall asleep at night without reading a book - and that you often read ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’, having read them so frequently, in fact, that you could probably recite each story word for word. He knows that you aren’t a huge fan of chocolate, but that every month, for one week, you will inhale it like your life depends on it.

He knows you well enough to know that though friendly by nature, your actual friends are few and far between: choosing to give your trust to a select few individuals. You don’t call people your friends lightly, and it gives him immense joy, and pride, that he’s one of the few people you’ve granted that title. Most importantly, however, Jimin knows that you’re completely, and utterly, inexperienced with men. In the decade you’ve been at Hogwarts, not once have you ever had a boyfriend. He knows because he’s asked around. Purely out of curiosity, of course.

With how much time people spent at Hogwarts, rumours tended to be rampant and everyonehad at one point, had a rumour about them and someone else. Everyone, that is, except for you. At first, Jimin had worried that the two of you wouldn’t get along - that your inherent natures would be the complete opposite and that he’d hate you. After all, he didn’t want to spend his Apprenticeship years hating the only other Apprentice in his year. However, after meeting you in his eighth year for the first time, he’d finally understood why you’d never had any rumours. And that was simply because you spent most, if not all, your time studying.

By all means, it was only exacerbated by your incredibly shy, and timid, nature - especially when boys were concerned; but it was primarily because, you just didn’t seem to think about romance or sex. Which was precisely why he had never really given you a second-thought when it came to spending time with you. Of course, he flirted with you, but it was more playful than anything. Mostly because he enjoyed watching the way you’d get flustered, and how you’d stutter to respond to him. It was incredibly cute, and dare he say, endearing.

Yet, even then, he’d never considered actually pursuing you, and even now, he doesn’t know if he would. You’re complete opposites, and he doubts that you’d even wantanything to do with him - especially since you very clearly knew his reputation. His reputation being that his stable, steady girlfriends are few, and far between. More than that, he’d always dismissed you as someone who’d be into vanilla, missionary sex day in day out; and granted, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that if that’s what you liked. But the last thing he, Park Jimin, ever would be, is vanilla. Hence, his reasons for dismissing you as a partner early on.

However, that was before today. Now, he’s not so sure. And not being sure is driving him completely wild. Because now, now he wants to know just what you really are like. Just what really makes you tick in bed.

“So, ____, who’s the object of your desires,” Eve’s voice suddenly breaks the silence, her eyebrows wiggling at you. Breaking from his reverie, Jimin immediately hones his attention on the two of you once again. This, he has to know. He doesn’t know why, but he’s suddenly filled with the burning need to know just who you so carnally want to submit to.

“N-No one,” comes your choked reply, and even though he can’t see you, Jimin already knows that your face is flushed with heat. “I-It must be a wrong reading,” you quickly continue, Eve’s eyebrows shooting into her hairline.

Humming in thought, “Hmmm. It’s all open to interpretation ____, so perhaps,” she ponders out loud. A coquettish smile curls onto her face, and levelling you with her impish stare, “Would you like another reading to be sure?” she asks. Swiftly, you shake your head.

“No, it’s pretty late. And Jimin wanted it to be done as soon as possible,” you quickly interject. Ears perking at the sound of his name, Jimin lets out an airy life.

“Oh no, by all means, do continue if you need to. I remembered I have nowhere to be,” he purrs. Despair floods your stomach at his words, and internally you scowl. He had to choose now to be genial? Really?

“See, Jimin doesn’t mind,” Eve snickers. Letting out a little huff, you quickly get up from your chair and begin gathering your things.

“Still, it is late - almost curfew in fact. You should all start getting to your dorms,” you reply, your voice louder so the rest of the students hanging in the class could hear. A chorus of groans resonate through the air, but nevertheless, they begin packing up their own divination items.

“Spoil sport,” Eve mutters under her breath, however, there’s no real heat to her words; and like everyone else, she too begins clearing the table. As she waves her wand, the bottles, candles and crystals flying back to their original places, “Are you sure you can’t let me do another reading? It would really help,” she asks.

With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m sorry, I have Head Girl patrol duties tonight, and I still need to get back to the dorms and shower,” you respond.

Behind you, Jimin immediately freezes, his book partially in his bag as he himself gets ready to leave. Now, that’s interesting. Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, he casts his gaze over your body. A lie. A very clear lie - but a good one - because only he would have known it’s a lie. You don’t have Head Girl patrol duties tonight, you know that, and he knows that. Why? Well, because he’s the one who comes up with the patrolling schedules - and you definitely don’t have any tonight. Which begs the question, why are you lying?

Naturally, it could be because you don’t want a second reading, but Jimin has known you three years now, and it’s not often that you refuse to help. Moreover, it’s also not often that you lie - which only has his intrigue growing. Just what were you up to? Not that you do have to be up to something, you really could just not want to have a second reading, and usually, Jimin would happily accept that reading. If it weren’t for the niggling feeling in his gut that it’s something more, and if there’s one thing Park Jimin does, it’s trust his gut feeling.

Hearing your explanation, Eve swiftly deflates. “Alright, that’s fair enough. Still, thank you though. I’m sure Trelawney is going to love this,” she grins. Though, that only has sheer mortification rippling through you. Because really, the last thing you want, is Trelawney hearing about your deepest, darkest feelings. A part of you wants to ask Eve not to use it, however, she’s promised to leave your name out of it, and knowing Trelawney, she’ll barely even pay any attention to it - both facts quickly settling your embarrassment.

“You’re welcome,” you respond with a nod as you gather your bag. Then, turning to Jimin, you tersely smile at him, and, “Ready to go?” you ask - your eyes flicking from his to the space behind him, as if you’re avoiding his gaze.

Momentarily, he looks at you, but no matter how long he stares, you refuse to maintain eye contact. The peculiarity of your actions only has his curiosity growing more aroused. Internally making up his mind to get to the bottom of your behaviour, “Yeah, let’s go,” he simply responds.

It’s later that very same night, when Jimin finds himself up well past moonrise. Usually, by now, he’d long since be in the comfort of his bed, enjoying the privacy of his own dorm. Or he’d be sneaking into the room of another apprentice. Today, however, he finds himself waiting in the Potions Apprentice common room; nestled on one of the plush velvet armchairs that makes its home by the hearth. Weak flames lick at the scorched wood, the fire waning as it slowly dies out. It bathes the darkened room in a dim light, and despite his position right beside the fireplace, the shadows hide his body well enough.

Internally, he wonders how long he has to wait for you to make a move, for you to sneak outside the common room and towards wherever it was that you wanted to disappear for the night. Really, he doesn’t know why he cares so much, and normally, he wouldn’t; you’re a grown woman after all, and you’re more than welcome to your secrets. Which is what he’d say if you were anyone else. But you’re not. You’re ____ Graves. The same ____ Graves he’s lived with for the past three years, and the last thing you have are secrets. Realistically speaking, he should probably give up and head to bed, because really, why did it matter what you got up to late into the night. However, ever since hearing you so easily lie to Eve, he simply can’t get out the incessant need to find out what you were hiding.

That is, if you are hiding anything. Because really, the later it gets, the more he finds himself wondering if he’s deluded himself into believing that you had secrets in the first place.

Mentally, he wonders if he should just head up to bed. It’s way past curfew, and you don’t seem to have emerged outside of your private bedroom; the rest of the Potions Apprentices having all retired for the night long ago. As he sits in the armchair, he contemplates his decision. It’s nearing midnight now, and you still haven’t so much as moved, and he’s really starting to believe that perhaps you’ve already retired for the night. Just as he shifts, however, he hears a door creak causing him to freeze immediately.

Head snapping to the stairs that lead towards the bedrooms, he watches as you slowly creep out of your bedroom and down the stairs. The common room is dark: the only light source the dwindling flames of the fireplace, and the faint, overcast shafts of moonlight that filter through the still waters of the Black Lake; and as a result, your wand is lit up - the eerie blue-tinted light of the ‘Lumos’ spell guiding your way through the space. Hidden by the shadows of the corner he finds himself in, Jimin’s breath hitches as you carefully tiptoe past him.

To his absolute luck, however, you don’t notice him. Instead, you simply slip out of the portrait that guards the Potions Apprentice Quarters. Jimin waits a couple moments for you to get far enough from the entrance before swiftly following you out. As soon as he slips through the portrait, he sees your frame disappear behind one of the corners, and hastily, he casts a disillusionment charm onto himself, followed by a ‘Muffliato’, before he begins tailing you.

It’s late after curfew, and as a result, the corridors are completely deserted. Iron sconces hang high up the beige brick walls and the flickering amber light illuminates the large, arched halls of the castle. Expertly, you navigate through the maze-like hallways, and with how purposely you move - your feet directing you down a specific route - Jimin knows you’re not out for Head Girl patrol duties. Albeit, he’d already known that. Though, this simply confirms his suspicions.

The entire journey, Jimin keeps a steady distance from you - close enough to keep you in his line of view, yet far enough that you won’t feel his presence. You lead him down twisting and turning corridors, and up towards the Grand Staircase. Realising that you’re planning on moving to a different floor, Jimin quickly moves closer towards you, still staying far enough for him to remain undetected, while keeping up with you as you navigate the ever-changing staircases. He doesn’t know how long he follows you, but around ten minutes later, you slow down your pace.

A look of surprise flits across Jimin’s face as he looks around. From the looks of it, you’re both on the seventh floor, in the left corridor. Though, he has no idea whyyou’ve come here. This area of Hogwarts is barely used. There are no classrooms in this corridor - it’s essentially a large stretch of hallway. Despite this obvious fact, however, Jimin watches as you walk down the passage, stopping when you get to a large tapestry. Quietly coming up beside you, he looks at the moving depiction in confusion.

Trolls dressed in ballet tutus are illustrated on the large curtain, their green-skinned body fanned out in various positions as they dance about with large clubs held in their giant hands. In the middle of the cluster, is a man, dressed in medieval-esque clothing, two of the trolls hitting him with their weapons intermittently. Suddenly, recognition dawns within him. It’s the attempt of Barnabas the Barmy to teach the trolls ballet. Enraptured by the odd, mobile tapestry, Jimin doesn’t notice you move - not until he watches a large, ornate wooden door manifest itself into the castle’s wall.

Eyes widening, he takes a step back - the sudden appearance of the entrance surprising him. He doesn’t have long to collect himself, however, because without a moment’s hesitation, you’re opening the door and entering it. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Jimin hastily slips into the room after you - the door shutting behind him with a quiet thud. As soon as he steps inside, however, he pauses - not expecting the sight to greet him.

The room is large, yet completely barren. Marble arches and pillars line the perimeter of the room; plush carpet, the colour of beige, lines the entire floor - and even through the soles of his Dragonhide boots, he can feel how soft it is. There’s only one piece of furniture that sits inside the odd space - a large mirror. With clawed feet, and an ornate frame that has faded into a dull, metallic shade of gold with time, it looks ancient; and wholly mysterious. There’s even a strange inscription in the framework, in a language he can’t quite decipher, but one that seems familiar at the same time.

Nonetheless, Jimin doesn’t have much time to contemplate the peculiarity of it all, because all of a sudden, you’re moving. Drawing his attention once again, he watches you step up to the mirror, looking into the reflective glass intensely. The entire occurrence is strange, because it’s just a mirror, and yet you watch it so curiously, so intensively, that he wonders just what you’re looking at. And then, for a second time that day, he has an epiphany. He knows this mirror. Or well, more specifically he’s read of it.

It’s the Mirror of Erised - the one that shows you what your heart desires the most.

Now even more curious, Jimin’s head tilts to the side as he looks at you, his face a picture of curiosity. Soon, however, it morphs into shock. Because, completely out of the blue, you start stripping.

Febrile skin flushed with desire, you stare into the Mirror of Erised. The sight that greets you is no surprise to you, at least not anymore. You see, the first time you’d stumbled upon the Room of Requirement, had been this summer, towards the end of your ninth year. Back then, you’d just been a prefect, and on one of your nightly patrols, you’d stumbled across strange noises coming from one of the abandoned classrooms on the seventh floor; and being the principled prefect you were, you’d instantly investigated. The sight that had greeted you, had shocked you to the core.

You had expected lots of things behind the classroom door. Perhaps it was Peeves, causing a ruckus as he usually does. Or perchance Filch doing his own rounds. Or maybe, just maybe, it was two students out past curfew. However, the last thing you’d expected was to see Penelope Graham, the second-year herbology Apprentice, bent over a table as Park Jimin thrust into her from behind. Her uniform had been in a state of dishevelment, her shirt wide open and her bra pulled under to reveal her breasts. The most surprising thing, however, had been the fact that her hands were tied up, and her panties stuffed into her mouth as Jimin harshly moved behind her.

Suffice to say, the entire scene had been such a shock, and way more than you’d expected to find behind the classroom door. More than that, you couldn’t bring yourself to break them up, your own timidness getting the better of you. As a result, you’d quickly turned around and ran away - racing to the opposite end of the seventh floor - only to find yourself in the empty left corridor, right by the large tapestry that depicted Barnabas the Barmy and the trolls. You can still remember your embarrassment, the sight of Jimin roughly fucking Penelope burned into the back of your mind. As you contemplated what you’d stumbled across; pacing back and forth in front of the tapestry, you’d accidentally come across the Room of Requirement.

The randomly-appearing door had surprised you. You’d heard of its existence of course, from your cousin, Sybil Lovegood, but you’d never gone looking for it. Curious about what the room had manifested for you, and needing to recuperate from what you’d just witnessed, you’d entered - just to discover the empty room, and the Mirror of Erised. What you’d spotted in the reflection, your heart’s greatest desire, a few months ago had completely shocked you.

Because depicted in the magic glass, is you - your body naked and bound - as Jimin fucks you, just as roughly as he did Penelope. Or perhaps, even rougher.

Shaken by the discovery, you’d swiftly left the room. Only to return the next day. And the weekend after. And then the week after. However, then you’d broken up for holidays, and in your tenth year so far, you’d been too busy with head duties to return. By all means, you’ve spent many nights laying in bed, with fantasies of Jimin sweeping through your head as you lose yourself in your own pleasure. However, your fantasies could never compare to what the mirror showed. Though, the real deal probably couldn’t compare to this either, but what could you do? You doubt Jimin would actually ever fuck you; that is, if his adversity to flirting with you was any indication.

Tonight is the first night you’ve returned in a while, prompted by Eve’s tarot reading, and eyes darkening with hunger, you watch your reflection’s face twist with lewd pleasure; Jimin’s intense, domineering gaze levelled on you. Molten lust pools between your thighs, your stomach twisting with the desirous heat of hunger as your core trembles. Your gaze trails down the body of your mirror-image, settling on your core, and almost as if he knew, mirror-Jimin lifts your reflection’s leg up - allowing you a better view of her swollen, sodden cunt.

A low whimper resounds through the still room, your voice breaking the quiet. All of a sudden, the heat that sears your body is too much, causing you to grip your wand tighter, and vanish almost all your clothes with a simple spell - purposely leaving your skirt on. Cool air brushes against your heated sex, and a low mewl falls from your lips at the sensation, your thighs spreading a little further. Without wasting a single moment, you slip your hand between the apex of your legs, merely to cry out in pleasure when your fingers brush your throbbing bud.

Knees buckling at the pleasure, you tentatively stroke your clit, your breath turning laboured as ripples of ecstasy course through you. Nonetheless, it’s not enough, and you have no doubt that this position is soon going to get uncomfortable. Thus, without wasting another moment, you carefully drop to your knees before sitting on your ass. Bending your knees, you draw your thighs closer to your body, before spreading them wide open. Able to access your bare folds more freely, one of your hand dips between your legs: a single finger trailing through your dewy slit.

You run the digit through your sex a couple of times, and once the pad of your finger is coated in a thin film of your own wetness, you press it to your clit once again; slicking the bud under your ministrations. In the mirror-reflection, Jimin mumbles something indiscernible into your mirror-self, and you watch as her cheeks tinge with heat, but as usual, does as he says. Her hand winds down towards her spread thighs, only to splay her cunt wide open. Then, in one smooth motion, Jimin spears his cock into her - impaling the entire length into her dripping pussy.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you responsively dip a finger into your own honeyed entrance. The rings of muscle are tight, and firm, but slippery with your arousal, you manage to slip a single digit into yourself. Steadily, you push your finger into you. It’s fairly short, and girthy, and yet, there’s still a pleasurable ache to the intrusion - your inner walls rippling around the digit. You push it in as far as you can before crooking it at the knuckle. Promptly, you feel your body shake - your nail inadvertently dragging against your sweet-spot.

For a moment, your eyes blur at the euphoria, your eyes threatening to shut. Nonetheless, you forcibly keep them open - your gaze focused on the way mirror-Jimin begins surging into your reflection, your entire body bouncing from his rough thrusts. Imitating his actions, you begin plunging your finger into your silken depths - the movement causing the pad of your digit to drag against the erogenous spot inside of you repetitively. With each stroke, you feel the pleasure inside your stomach intensify, morphing from a dull ache into a maddening burn.

Nestled in the shadows, Jimin’s jaw drops at the lewd sight of you. When he’d decided to follow you tonight, this was the last thing he had expected. At first, he’d meant to announce his presence - question just what you’d been staring at. However, before he could say anything, your clothes had suddenly been divested off of your body - flying into the air before folding neatly onto a pile on the floor. Tongue-tied by the action, his jaw had dropped, and he’d been rendered speechless - because really, why would he have expected you to suddenly strip to just your skirt?

Nonetheless, his astonishment set aside, Jimin can’t help but feel his skin heat as he watches you - his cock twitching to life in the confines of his trousers. He still has no idea what it is you’re seeing, but still, the sight of your legs spread wide, and your hands buried between your thighs is incredibly hot. From his position, he can’t see you in full - your skirt partially covering your sex - and with only his imagination to go off of, his mind runs wild. He wonders just what your cunt looks like as you pleasure yourself: does your clit throb? Are you soaked beyond belief - strings of your arousal leaking down your ass? Does that little cunt of yours tremble around your fingers?

Each question has waves of hunger washing through him, and with each thought, hot lust bubbles through his veins. Desperately he wishes to find out the answers - to remove your hand and push your skirt up - only to bury his face between your thighs. He wonders how you look amidst an orgasm, and the type of sounds you make; the type of sounds your cunt makes. Even so, even with his urgent desire overtaking him, he knows he can’t. He enjoys being your friend - a hard title to come by - and this would cross a boundary he’d initially been hesitant to cross; especially since you’d never shown interest in him, or any other boy for that matter. More than that, however, he figures he should leave you to your own privacy - having voyeuristically watched you for long enough.

However, just as he’s about to turn on his heel and exit, a sudden cry of pleasure tears from your throat - louder than any other that has spilled from your mouth. All of a sudden, you jerk, and your free hand darts out behind you: the palm dragging against the ground as you brace your entire body. Your back twists, the motion pushing your chest further into the air - drawing his attention to them - just for it to move to the way your thighs begin trembling. Holy fuck. Were you about to cum? Merlin, he reallyneeds to get out of here.

“J-Jimin,” you suddenly whimper and Jimin stops short - the muscles of his entire body locking. Did you… had you just…?

Breath catching in his throat, Jimin strains his ears; focusing his entire attention on you. It couldn’t be. There was no way you’d just said his name. His mind was obviously playing tricks on him. Swiftly, he dismisses the sound. Until, “Oh… Jimin,” you moan. It’s louder this time, and clearly - so discernible, in fact, that it resonates through Jimin’s ears.

Turbulent eyes roving over you, and once he’s confirmed that it is indeed his name, a smirk curls onto Jimin’s plump lips. His cock strains inside his boxers, the hardened member straining against the tightness of his trousers as it begs to bury itself inside of you. A surprising reaction, considering he’d never seen you in that way before - then again, how was he not supposed to want you, after learning that your heart’s desire, is him. Suddenly, Eve’s voice echoes through his mind, and recognition dawns inside of him. He’s the man from the divination - the one you truly want to submit to; the one you so desperately yearn for. Immediately, the smirk on Jimin’s face twists further, pulling into a large, predatory grin.

Well, who was he to deny you your deepest wish?

Stalking closer towards you, Jimin waves his wand discreetly - ending both the charms that hide him from your view. However, so lost in your own pleasure, your focus concentrated on whatever it is you see in the mirror, you don’t notice him. Closer to you now, your soft mewls and whimpers are louder - the sounds practically music to his ear - and this time, when you call out his name, “Need something, Princess?” he purrs in answer.

Instantaneously, you freeze. Every single one of your muscles locks at the sound, your lust dissipating as dread settles in your stomach. Head snapping up, you finally notice Jimin’s reflection in the mirror, and blinking blankly, you slowly realise it’s the real Jimin. Swiftly, you shut your legs, the movement locking your hands between, as you stare at him wide eyed.

Mortification surging through you, “J-Jimin,” you stammer out.

“Oh, Sweetheart, don’t stop on my account. I was quite enjoying the show.” His eyes flash with mischief, his gaze dropping towards your legs perceptibly, before locking back onto yours.

“I-I can e-explain,” you stammer out.

Jimin simply hums in response. “Oh? I think I have a pretty good grasp of the situation, Kitten,” comes his rumbling voice - the husky warbles reverberating through the air and directly to your core. Inhaling sharply, your eyes widen imperceptibly. Kitten. That’s a new one. More than that, the pet name drips from his lips like viscous honey, laced with a promise of lust-filled sin.

Deliberately, he stalks around you, your eyes following him - as if transfixed - until he’s directly in front of you, just beside the mirror. With your positioning - his broad body towering over you - your face to crotch with him, and quickly, you spot the prominent bulge of his cock. Throat tightening, you swallow thickly - your mouth suddenly dry. Jimin spots your gaze easily, causing him to chuckle.

“Eyes up on me, Kitten,” Jimin purrs, and almost as if you’re trained to obey, you follow his command; albeit, reluctantly.

Forcibly tearing your eyes from his covered manhood, you level your gaze onto him once again. He stands above you, fully clothed; waves of powerful dominance seeping off of his entire demeanour. Meanwhile you’re next to naked - with your hand still buried into your cunt - and as a result, you can’t help the ripples of humiliation that strum through you; your core reflexively clenching. Against your will, a wanton whimper escapes your mouth, your cheeks tinging darker with the heat of embarrassment. From the way Jimin’s eyes twinkle, you know he’s heard you.

“It looks to me like you’ve been playing with that little cunt of yours to thoughts of me, am I right?” he teases, and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you tentatively nod. Jimin hums once again, his head cocking to the side as he regards you coolly. Under his intense gaze, you feel completely exposed - his heavy stare roving over your entire body as he scrutinises you.

Then, his eyes landing on your skirt, Jimin lets out a low, taunting coo. “Is that pretty pussy wet, Princess? Does your cunt ache to be filled by my cock?” he asks. The vulgarity of his words doesn’t surprise you, you always had a feeling Jimin had a filthy tongue on him, and reflexively, you nod once again. Under his teasing words, you feel yourself grow wet, your lust-filled desire mingling with the humiliation that flutters through you.

Surreptitiously, your hand begins moving, the digit still buried inside you flexing as you slowly plunge it into you. The movement is imperceptible, and near non-existent, but somehow, Jimin still spots it. With a chuckle, “Is this turning you on, Sweetheart?” he coos. Mouth still dry, it’s all you can do to nod. However, Jimin’s eyes simply narrow into slits, and, “Articulate,” he hisses.

“Y-Yes,” you force out obediently, your finger moving even faster. Jimin coos tenderly, his lips curling into a wry sneer.

“Of course it is, Kitten,” he coos. Then, gesturing his head towards your hand, “But is your hand enough? Wouldn’t you like the real thing? Wouldn’t you rather have my cock?” he asks, a playful lilt to his voice.

You don’t even have to contemplate your answer, because immediately, “Please,” you whimper.

“Please what?” he hisses, and realising he’s going to force you to say it, you inhale a deep, steadying breath.

“J-Jimin,” you stutter out in an attempted protest.

“I want to hear you say it. I want you to beg with that pretty, innocent little mouth of yours,” Jimin purrs, his eyes darkening with dominance as he watches you.

Brushing your humiliation to the side, you take in a deep, steadying breath. “P-Please g-g-give me y-your cock,” you stutter out whilst imploringly staring at him through the thick of your lashes.

Immediately, a roguish grin crawls onto Jimin’s lips, and chest purring in approval, he walks around you - the heels of his expensive Dragonhide shoes clicking against the ground - before he settles behind your body. His long legs splay on either side of you, the limbs bent at the knee: effectively caging you between his figure. The strong muscles of his chest press flat against your naked back, and involuntarily, you shiver - his warmth seeping into your skin.

Hands moving to loosely rest on either of your thighs, the cold metal of his ring making you gasp as it presses against your febrile flesh, “Spread your legs,” he orders. The sound rumbles against your back, and for a moment you hesitate - the tips of your ears burning in humiliation. Nonetheless, you do as he says: tentatively splaying your legs open once again. Jimin watches your reflection in the glass, his eyes dropping to the apex of your spread thighs. Material of your skirt falling between, it obstructs his view of your cunt, causing him to let out a low tremor of disapproval.

Angling his head to the side, he brushes his lips against the outer shell of your ear, before taking the topmost part between his teeth and biting down softly. The sudden action causes you to let out a soft whimper, and you both see, and feel, Jimin’s lips twist into a sardonic smile. Lightly nibbling on the cartilage, his hands indolently trail further up your thighs, causing your eyes to flutter at the sensation. Just when he gets to the soft flesh of the top of your inner thighs, however, Jimin suddenly stops.

“Lift up your skirt, Princess. Show me the way that cunt drips for me,” comes his command. The intonation of his voice is low, a slight rasp underlying it, and reflexively, goosebumps prickle at your skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, and with shaky hands, do as he says. Gripping the hem of your skirt, you hesitantly lift it up - both your eyes glued onto the mirror - where you watch the way you slowly expose your sodden cunt. The moment your bare sex meets his gaze, Jimin lets out a pained groan. Swollen with need, the flesh of your sex is puffy - your clit visibly throbbing as a thick sheen of your wetness coats your skin. Pools of arousal gather around your entrance, the ring of muscles trembling under his heavy gaze, causing thin rivulets of slick to trail down the seam of your ass.

“Oh? You’re fucking drenched. What is it that you see in the mirror, that has you leaking like this? You’re practically creating a puddle,” he chuckles, a dark, taunting inflexion cutting his sweet voice.

A near inaudible whimper falls from your lips, and when you don’t respond, Jimin bites your ear harshly. Soft stings of pain strum through you, and, “Y-You,” you cry out in response, your cunt clenching visibly.

Watching the way the ringed muscles contract, “Oh? Just me?” Jimin chuckles darkly. You shake your head in response.

“N-No… us,” you reply. Fingers flexing, he begins softly massaging your thighs: kneading the supple flesh under his deft digits.

“Tell me.”

“W-What?” you ask, shock evident in your eyes. Tongue flicking out, Jimin licks the outline of your ear, only to brush his lips against the shell.

“Tell me what you see,” he elaborates. Thick waves of hesitation exude off of you at the command. There was no way - absolute none - that you could describe the vulgar scene, born from your deepest fantasies, and depicted in the magical surface.

Sensing your trepidation, Jimin’s face softens, and he buries his face into the side of your head. Lips pursing, he places a tender kiss to your hair. “We can stop if you want, or if it’s too much,” he mumbles; his hands soothingly rubbing your thighs. Your heart flutters at his concern, and you shake your head quickly.

“I-I’ve just… never done something like this,” you begin, your voice coming out as a whisper. Internally, you cringe at the timidness of it. It’s not that you don’t want to fuck Jimin. You do. Desperately. It’s just, you’re not used to it - to having someone see this side of you - and the idea of revealing it to Jimin, the object of most of your lascivious fantasies, is more than just a little daunting.

Awareness crossing his face, Jimin nods, and you watch in despair as his eyes turn tender - a stark contrast from the heavy dominance that had just twinkled within them. “We can go slow… I’ll be gentle,” he offers.

“No!” you instantly object, Jimin’s eyes widening at the sudden protest. Realising how loud you’d been, you quickly curl into yourself and avert your gaze. Throat tight, you swallow thickly; and gathering your courage, “I- I don’t want gentle. I- I want you to be rough. I want you to fuck me,” you confess, A few pauses break your sentences as you force yourself to be honest with him, however, once the words are out, you feel a sense of relief flood through you.

Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, and against the curve of your ass, you feel his hardened cock throb. “Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. This time, when you nod, there’s not a semblance of hesitancy.

Bolstered by your sudden courage, “I want you to fuck me as hard as you can. I want you to dominate me, and make me cry,” comes your sudden declaration. The hands on your thighs flex, Jimin gripping the flesh almost painfully.

“Fuck.” He takes a deep breath, and then exhales just as deep. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asks once again.

Unwavering, “Yes.” Then, “Please,” you add - practically begging him now.

“Pick a safe word.”

Surprised by his words, “W-what?” you dumbly ask, causing him to smile at you genially.

“You’re a virgin aren’t you?” he asks; his tone is passive, almost kind, and not mocking at all; yet, you still find yourself growing embarrassed as you nod in response. Pressing another kiss to your head, “Then pick a safe word you can use if things are getting too intense and you need to stop,” he continues.

“Oh. Um… Mallowsweet,” you blurt out after a short deliberation.

The instant the word slips from your mouth, Jimin lets out an amused exhale, and you feel his lips curl in bemusement. “Mallowsweet? Really? The first thing you thought of was a potion ingredient?” he asks, causing you to pout.

“Safe words have to be something you won’t normally say during sex,” you mumble, and once again, Jimin laughs.

“You’ve got me there. Alright, Mallowsweet it is,” he nods. Then, after a short pause, “Don’t hesitate to use it, okay?” he continues. You don’t say anything, simply nodding firmly. Happy with your assurance, “Good girl. Now, tell me what you see,” he praises, only to follow the sentiment with a command.

A ripple of excitement courses through you at the heavy authority that laces his voice once again; his eyes dark with domineering hunger as he practically scrutinises you. Attention returning to the mirror, your breath catches in your throat at the sight that greets you. Your reflection selves have changed positions, now almost perfectly imitating the two of you. Cradled in mirror-Jimin’s embrace, your counterpart has her legs spread wide, and her lips spread even more lewdly - her own digits splaying them apart - as Jimin fucks his thick fingers into her drenched heat.

When you don’t say anything, your attention instead focused on the erotic scene depicted in the magical surface, you suddenly hear a loud slap echo through the air. All of a sudden, a sharp sting of pain flares across your thigh, and you hiss when you feel Jimin spank your flesh.

“I gave you an order, Princess. I expect you to obey,” Jimin spits, his voice hissing against your ear.

“Ah- I’m- I’m spreading my own…” you begin, only for your own mortification to pause.

“Your own?” Jimin prompts, a smirk curling onto his face at your clear embarrassment.

Letting out a whine, “V-vagina,” you choke out with a stammer. Immediately, Jimin brings his hand down onto your thigh, a sharp slap resounding through the air.

A low cry slips through your lips and, “Cunt,” Jimin hisses.

“W-What?”

“Cunt. You’ll call it your cunt, or your pussy. Do you understand?” he responds, causing you to nod your head. “Good girl. Now, continue,” he urges, his hand delicately massaging your thigh as he soothes the flesh he’d spanked.

Cheeks burning, “I-I’m spreading my own c-cunt,” you whisper. A jolt of ravenous hunger sparks through Jimin as he hears the vulgar word slip from your lips and he lets out a low, pained groan. He’d ordered you to say it, and yet, it somehow sounded even sweeter, even more sinful as it drips from your mouth.

“Are you now? Show me how,” comes his next order. Shuddering at his breathy voice, and thick ripples of pleasure coursing through you, you do as he says.

One of your hands uncurls itself from the material of your skirt, the other hiking the fabric higher up your body. Next, using your now free hand, you press two of your trembling fingers on either side of your cunt, before spreading them in a ‘V’ shape. Under the ministration, you both feel, and watch, as your slick folds are pulled apart - revealing even more of your bare sex to Jimin’s gaze. Seeing the way your flesh peels open, Jimin lets out a strained groan.

“Fuck. Look at you. Dirty fucking slut,” he spits, and hearing his words, the walls of your cunt automatically clench. With the way your pussy is bared for Jimin, he easily spots the movement, causing him to chuckle. With another spank on your thigh, “Do you like that, Princess? Do you like the way I call you a slut?” he taunts. Fist curling tighter into the cotton fabric of your skirt, you nod shyly. Jimin’s hand splays further down your thigh before he begins drawing slow, teasing shapes into your flesh.

A shudder runs down your spine at his actions. In their new position, his fingers are impossibly close to your cunt - so close, in fact, that you’re sure he can feel the intense heat radiating from your sex. Deliberately, however, he keeps them away from where you need them most, and under his ministrations, you slowly feel your body temperature rise; the ache in your pussy intensifying tenfold. One finger moves awfully close to the flesh of your nether lips, and each time he draws an indiscernible shape, the bone of his knuckle grazes your clit.

“Do you want me to keep calling you a slut?” he taunts, and eagerly, you nod your head, a wanton whine slipping through your throat. “Then beg,” he hisses.

With a whimper, “P-Please degrade me,” you moan.

“Merlin, you’re such a fucking whore. Who would have thought that the innocent, shy Head Girl was such a desperate, needy little slut?” Jimin questions, and hearing the blatant derision in his voice, your stomach flips with humiliation. Then, pressing his lips to your ear, Jimin moves his hand to purposely graze your cunt. “I’m going to fucking ruin you,” he groans, his eyes swirling with dark lust. Then, he gestures back to the mirror.

Already knowing what he wants, you take in another breath. “Y-You’re f-fingering my p-pussy as I s-spread my c-cunt,” you stutter out, your ears burning at the crude words.

“Like this?” he teasingly asks. Inhaling sharply, your eyes flutter as you feel his middle finger teasingly caress your dewy folds: the pad of the digit tracing down your swollen lips. You nod your head.

“Y-You’ve got t-two fingers in me. T-Thrusting them as you f-fuck my cunt,” you continue. Finger moving further down, Jimin runs the tip of his nail around the quivering, ringed outline of your cunt.

“Fuck. Such a pretty, needy, pussy. See how it trembles for me?” he asks. It’s rhetorical. You know it is, because the next thing he’s doing, is plunging his finger into you.

A high-pitched moan spills from your lips, your back arching as your head falls onto his muscular shoulder. He stops once he’s knuckle deep, and curling his finger, “I’m going to fuck this tight, unused little cunt, Princess,” he continues. The cold metal and cut gemstones of his heirloom ring presses against the sodden, heated flesh of your cunt. The band is incredibly thick, the maddening girth threatening to plunge into you as it presses against your entrance.

Nonetheless, Jimin stops. Instead, he languidly pulls his finger out, before abruptly plunging it back inside. Heavy moans elicited from your throat, your cunt spasms as you feel his ring press against your ringed muscles once again. Thrusting the crooked finger in and out of you, he indolently tests the pliance of your inner walls; relishing in the resistance he feels. “By Morgana, you’re so fucking tight. Such a tiny, little hole…” In a deliberate motion, he pulls his finger out - so slow, that you can feel every ridge of his knuckles as it retreats out of you.

As he holds up his finger, your eyes widen at the sight. The entire length of his digit is coated in a thick sheen of your wetness; filmy strings trickling towards his palm. The glint of his ring catches the low lighting, the shine only highlighted by your arousal. Jimin lets out a baritone chuckle, “So fucking wet too. You drip like such a slut.” His hand moves back down to your cunt, and stroking up the slit, you whimper the pad of his finger brushes your throbbing clit, the wet bud slickening under his ministrations.

“I’m going to make you cum so much that all you can think about is the way my fingers, or tongue, or cock feel inside of you,” he murmurs. The intonation of his voice is heavy, with an intentional husk to it, that has you whining in need. With each word, he tantalisingly circles your engorged bundle of nerves. His touch is feathery, virtually non-existent, and the tormenting motions has your core burning with need; the muscles of your thighs twitching intermittently.

“Mmmm, yes. By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be a cock-hungry little bitch, begging me to fuck you like the cumslut you are.” All of a sudden, he presses his digit down onto your clit before rolling it in hard, tight circles.

Abruptly, “Ah- Please,” you cry, your thighs beginning to tremble on either side of Jimin’s. Between his filthy words, his purposeful taunting ministrations, and your own, previous ministrations, you swiftly feel the telltale fog of euphoria cloud your mind.

Jimin dips his head into the crook of your neck, and watching your body through the glass of the mirror, he stares darkly at your figure. You’re completely wired: eyes-half lidded and clouded with lust while your mouth is parted - breathless shallow gasps slipping from your throat. With each stroke of his finger against your clit, he watches your entrance responsively clench - forcing thick streams of your essence out of your honeyed hole and down your ass.

“Are you close, Kitten? Are you going to cum from just having me tease this needy clit?” he taunts, his breath fanning across the flesh of your neck. Throat tight with desire, it’s all you can do to nod your head. Pleasure burns in your abdomen, your skin flushing with heat. Still, Jimin continues his ministrations - pulling you closer and closer towards the brink of your orgasm. “Fuck, yeah you are. Merlin, you’re so sensitive... Tell me something Princess, no one’s played with you like this, have they?” he asks.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you shake your head once again - too tongue-tied by pleasure to speak. Plump lips wrap around your flesh, and flicking out his tongue, Jimin begins peppering hot, open-mouths kisses along the column of your throat. Teeth grazing against your sensitive skin, “No. They haven’t. I’m the first to see you like this, aren’t I? The first to touch this pretty cunt, and watch you drip for me,” he murmurs. The reverberations of his voice thrum along your throat, causing you to buck into his hand.

“I’m the first person who’s going to make you cum, Princess,” he whispers. Then, without a warning, he takes your clit between the knuckle of his forefinger and his thumb, and twisting, he pinches the bud. Simultaneously, Jimin sucks your flesh into his mouth, before biting down harshly. The abrupt pain has you crying out, your thighs shaking harder as you feel yourself teeter over the precipice of your climax. Before it can come, however, “But not yet,” Jimin growls before pulling away.

“N-No,” you cry out, tears misting your eyes as you feel your impending orgasm begin to fade. Thoughtlessly, you pull your hand away from where it’s spreading your cunt, and instead, you grab Jimin’s wrist; attempting to pull it back.

Swiftly, Jimin brings his hand down onto your cunt - harshly. A sharp, wet, smack resounds through the air as his fingers impact your swollen flesh. Under the ministration, you feel your clit smart: ripples of pain and pleasure thrumming along your nerves and setting your veins afire. Biting down on your flesh once again, “You’ll cum when I want you to cum, slut. Until then, be patient,” he hisses. A whimper slips from your throat, and you nod before letting go of his hand. Purring in approval at your obedience, Jimin’s tongue roves over your throat, soothing the tender flesh he’d harshly bitten down on.

“Spread your cunt for me again, Princess,” he orders, causing your fingers to fall back to your lips as you pull them apart. Jimin rewards your actions with soft kisses, his plush lips teasing the flesh of your throat. Lightly, he begins suckling and nipping: the skin blooming with bruises under his ministrations.

As he litters your throat with his marks, he retrieves his wand from beside him, and holding the long piece of elm he drags the tip through your slit. You gasp in surprise, your eyes widening as you watch him tease your folds with his wand. Against your throat, Jimin whispers a spell, the words inaudible. Out of the blue, however, his wand comes to life - the entire length vibrating as the point presses to your clit.

“J-Jimin,” you howl, your legs snapping shut as you feel the intense reverberations of his wand against your aching bud.

Immediately, Jimin increases the vibrations, and, “Keep your legs open, slut,” he orders. Sucking in a sharp breath, you forcibly part your thighs again, even as they tremble violently from the mind-numbing pleasure that wracks through your body from his wand. “Good girl,” he praises, his wand indolently circling the outline of your clit.

“J-Jimin- P-please,” you choke out, the muscles of your throat straining to spew out the words. Delirious with overwhelming ecstasy, your eyelids flutter with every motion, causing Jimin to chuckle.

“Do you want to cum, Sweetheart?” he asks, his voice dark, and taunting. Hastily, you nod your head. With how intensely his wand vibrates - the pleasure concentrated onto your clit, where the tip of the wood incessantly presses against the bud - you can feel your stomach twist and knot with each second that passes.

“Yes,” you gasp out. At the same time, your hips start rocking as you grind your clit into his wand - relishing in the powerful reverberations of the vibrating charm that strums through your clit. Again, the telltale sear of euphoria burns through your bloodstream.

Wanton hunger skims through you, and feeling how close you are to your orgasm, you begin wildly thrusting your hips. In the reflection of the glass, Jimin simply watches with a smirk as you ride his wand. With each roll of your hips, your clit drags against the vibrating wood - your cunt rippling over and over as you chase your high. A smirk crawling on his hips, Jimin mumbles something indiscernible, and you cry out when the vibrations increase tenfold. Screwing your eyes shut, you cry out in pleasure. However, for a second time that day, just as you’re about to sink into the mind-numbing ecstasy of your orgasm, Jimin is pulling away.

“NO! P-Please no. N-No, please. Please,” you cry - the words spilling from your words over and over again. With your orgasm cruelly ripped away from you for a second time, you can barely think. Behind you, Jimin lifts his head up, and presses a soft, soothing kiss against your head, and feeling the tender action, you whimper. Through the mirror, you look at him with teary, pleading eyes, and “P-Please,” you sob. Jimin simply lets out a sardonic smirk.

“If you want to cum, keep telling me what you see,” he coos, his eyes flashing with barely concealed dominance.

Eyes blurred with pleasure, and so caught up in the ecstasy Jimin reaps upon your body, you’d completely forgotten about the mirror. Blinking the tears from your eyes, you focus your attention onto the magical glass once again, only for a wanton moan to fall from your lips at the sight. Your reflections have swapped positions now - your body riding Jimin reverse-cowgirl. Even in the mirror, your legs are spread wide - giving you a lewd view of the way Jimin’s thick girth spears your tiny cunt wide open.

“Y-You’ve got me on your lap… my legs spread a-as you fuck me,” you begin once again. Jimin hums underneath you, his lips once again peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat.

He rewards your compliance by pressing his wand to your clit once more, before he runs it down your dripping slit, and towards your cunt. Feeling the thin wood trace the ringed muscles of your honeyed hole, you clench involuntarily - the action threatening to swallow the tip of his wand. Jimin spots the motion, and laughing lowly, he begins pressing it against your cunt. With how wet you are, you easily take the slim piece of wood into you, your eyes rolling at the thin intrusion. Unlike Jimin’s, or your own, fingers, the wood is unrelentingly hard, and you feel it slowly open up the soft flesh of your inner walls.

As he continues pushing the length into you, soft pangs of pain flutter through your velvet depths - the untouched walls slowly widening. Still, the pain is next to non-existent, and with the vibrating charm accompanying the invasion, even that subtle ache is drowned out by pleasure. Once half the wand is inside you, Jimin stops, and instead, he begins fucking you with the wood.

“Like this?” he asks. You pull your lower lip between your teeth, and biting down hard, you nod in response. “How am I fucking you?”

Automatically, “H-Hard. You’re f-fucking m-me hard,” you respond.

Jimin’s free arm moves to wrap around your body, and your breath hitches when you see him inch his left hands towards your cunt. He moves deliberately, your eyes dilating with desire as you watch it in the reflection of the mirror. Even with your gaze trained on the appendage however, you’re not ready for the way his fingers feel as they stroke your clit. The moment you feel the calloused pads of his fingers caress your throbbing bud, you let out a keening mew - your thighs trembling on either side of his legs.

Simultaneously, Jimin picks up the pace; fucking his wand into you even faster as he begins toying with your swollen clit. A shudder of pleasure races down your spine at the foreign pleasure. Despite his wand being slim, your untouched inner depths are unaccustomed to the intrusion, and as such, intense waves of ecstasy flourish through your body. Hot, voluptuous lips trail down the arc of your throat, and getting to the flesh of your shoulder, he bites down - hard enough to indent the shape of his teeth into your skin - and causing you to gasp.

“Be explicit. Tell me what you see,” comes his next order.

“Y-Your thick co-cock is spreading my c-cunt as you fuck me h-hard. I-I can see the way you c-cock opens my pussy,” you describe. Jimin lets out a strangled groan under you.

“Is that right?” he grunts. “Does my cock look good in your cunt, Princess?” Jimin begins taunting. “Do you like the way that pretty little virgin pussy stretches around my fat cock?” His warm breath fans over your naked shoulder, Jimin suckling his marks into your flesh between his sinful words. “Are you imagining how it would feel? How I’d fill you up - stretch you out - and carve the shape of my cock into you? So that you know who that precious cunt belongs to?” The intonation of his voice is incredibly deep, and turbulent with salacious desire. It tremors through the air, cutting the sounds of your wet cunt and erotic moans.

“F-Fuck,” you whimper at his words, your cunt involuntarily quivering around his wand; sucking it even deeper.

Feeling the movement, his wand slipping further from his grip, “Oh? You like that don’t you? Of course you do. Filthy little cockslut. Look at the way you swallow my wand. The way you drip and coat it in your cunt juices. You’re practically gagging for it. Begging me to defile this tight, sweet cunt,” he taunts. His words elicit a high-pitched, breathless whimper from your throat, and eagerly, you nod your head.

“Please fuck my cunt,” you beg, your eyes wide and imploring as you stare at him through the reflection. For a moment, Jimin stills. Your words are unprompted, and as such, completely unexpected. Yet, hearing the words drip from your mouth, laced with wanton ardor, has his entire body thrumming with exhilteration.

“Fuck. You’re a sin. My sin,” he groans in response. Then, he mumbles something unintelligible. You barely have time to comprehend what he says, because out of the blue, you feel your inner walls begin to stretch. Crying out at the sudden change, your eyes widen as you feel the girth of Jimin’s slender wand get thicker. The girth sluggishly increases, yet, with each second that passes, you feel your smarting walls stretch around the unyielding invasion.

Jimin doesn’t say anything. Rather, he begins fucking his wand into you ever quicker, simultaneously increasing the pace of his fingers against your clit. Pleasure and pain intermingle together, your eyes rolling back as your thighs begin to tremble. The sensations Jimin lavishes on your body are far too much to comprehend, and swiftly, you find yourself drowning in the fog of euphoria. Stomach twisting with the knot of your incoming orgasm, your breath turns laboured as you begin fucking back onto Jimin’s wand.

With each plunge of his wand into you, you feel your walls pull apart just a little more, and the vibrations of the wood only has your veins searing with desire. Soon, the wand swells past the size of what feels like two fingers, and you cry out when the burn of the stretch begins rippling through your inner walls. The pleasure is too much to handle, but you never want it to end. In fact, you wish it’d last forever: the sensations wholly addicting. In spite of that, however, “M-Mallowsweet,” you whimper.

Immediately, Jimin stills, and halting the spell, he slowly pulls his soaked wand out of you. Sitting up straight behind you, the hand playing with your clit moves, and he wraps his arm around your waist in comfort. He looks at you in concern - worry painted across his delicate features. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he swiftly asks, his gaze roving over your body. A surge of timidness floods through you, and biting your lip, you simply shake your head.

“I-I’m okay. I-I just,” you begin stammering, only to stop when you feel your embarrassment amplify tenfold. Jimin’s strong eyes knit together, and pressing his lips to your head, he presses an encouraging kiss to your flesh. Taking a deep breath, you gather all your courage, and, “I want your cock to be the first thing that stretches me out,” you whisper. At the sound of your steady voice, you internally cheer. At least you’d managed to get the words out without being a stuttering mess this time.

Sharply, Jimin sucks in a breath. Then, “Fuck,” comes his strained grunt.

In an abrupt flash, he moves. Grasping his wand, he plunges the wand into you once again. The sudden intrusion has your spine contorting, your head digging into Jimin’s shoulder as you cry out in pleasure. Expertly, Jimin angles the wooden rod inside of you and begins thrusting it in and out of your core with rough movements. At the same time, he mumbles under his breath, and your thighs shake as you feel the girth increase twofold as the wand begins vibrating inside of you once more.

“Ah- Jimin,” you cry, your eyes screwing shut as pleasure blinds your senses.

The hand around your waist pushes back between your thighs before he slaps your pussy once again. With the angle of his hand, the impact is concentrated on your clit, and feeling the sharp sting, a wail of ecstasy tears from your throat. Vehemently, Jimin begins spanking your cunt - focusing the slaps directly onto your hardened bundle of nerves. His punishing motions are only intensified by the way your fingers faithfully splay apart your folds: exposing the entirety of your throbbing bud to his actions.

“F-Fuck- Jimin,” you cry, tears beginning to mist at your eyes from the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure that courses through you.

Pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, “Desperate little slut. You’re such a fucking cocktease. Do you have any idea what you do to me? Hmm, Kitten? Do you know how hot it is when you practically beg me to ruin that tiny cunt of yours? Hmmm?” Jimin growls out. You whimper at his voice. The usual sweet intonation is long gone. Rather, it’s filled with a mix of pure, carnalistic need, and dark dominance. Each sentence that spills from his lips is emphasised by a harsh thrust, and when you feel the tip of the vibrating wand drag against the sweet spot inside you, you cry out.

“Ah- Fuck- Jimin, please,” you sob. Between Jimin’s harsh spanks on your clit, and the vehement way he plunges his wand into you, you find your orgasm quickly building up. Heat prickles at your spine, your skin pricking with goosebumps as the white-hot pokers of euphoria sting at your flesh.

“Look at me,” Jimin hisses, and through the fog of deliriousness that clouds your mind, you hear the command. Opening your eyes, and briefly wondering when they’d shut, you come face to face with your reflection: Jimin’s intense gaze capturing your own. The sight that greets your eyes has you whimpering.

Your pussy is swollen, and so sodden that you can see thick strings of your arousal cling to the side of Jimin’s palm: the hilt of his hand grazing your cunt with each piston of his wand into your welcoming depths. Wetness leaks out of you in droves, and you don’t know how you haven’t noticed it, but you’re sitting in a puddle of your own wetness - the juices of your entrance soaking into the fabric of the back of your skirt. The lewd sight of your body has your breath turning shallow, and inhaling quick, sharp breaths, you feel your thighs begin to shake.

Spotting the telltale signs of your approaching climax, “Are you going to cum?” Jimin asks, and you swiftly nod your head. “Beg me,” he grits out.

Instantly, your mouth parts, however, your mouth is suddenly dry, and so lost in your incoming orgasm, you can barely find it in yourself to string together a coherent set of words. Still, you force out a few words; though, they come out garbled and incoherent. Lips curling into a sneer, Jimin snarls at you, and immediately rips his wand out of you. The sudden emptiness has you shaking your head, a loud howl of displeasure ripping from your throat. Wildly, your hips thrash, and you attempt to follow his wand as you feel your orgasm begin to subside.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jimin brings down his hand onto your cunt - hard - and feeling the intense spank, your entire body jerks. “If you want to cum, you’re going to have to beg,” Jimin spits out.

Screwing your eyes shut, the tears finally begin falling down your eyes and you let out a dry sob. “W-Wanna cum. P-Please, J-Jimin, wanna cum. Please. Please. Please,” you wail.

With another spank to your clit, “Good girl,” Jimin praises. Then, he plunges his wand back into you.

The gesture is abrupt, and completely unexpected, and instantly, you’re forced over the edge of your own orgasm - the knot in your stomach suddenly unravelling. Shallow sobs ripping from the midst of your throat, the back of your head digs into Jimin’s shoulder almost painfully, and your body arcs as you begin cumming. Thighs quaking on either side of Jimin’s, your cunt clenches painfully around the wood inside of you, as blinding euphoria ricochets through your body.

With how much Jimin has already edged you, the force of your orgasm is threefold, incredibly overwhelming; and like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Toes curling with pleasure, you howl out his name, the sound coming out inarticulate, and close to inhuman. Waves of rapturous ecstasy surge through your body, your blood boiling with searing heat as your orgasm overtakes you. Momentarily, you feel yourself drift from reality - floating through the thick haze of elation - as you relish in the intoxicating sensation that floods through you.

Nevertheless, almost abruptly, you’re crashing down to reality. A dull, stinging ache shoots through your sensitive walls, the pain of overstimulation overtaking your mind-altering pleasure. Even with your entire body trembling from the force of your orgasm, Jimin continues plunging the vibrating length into you; though, his hand has moved from spanking your clit to rolling it in tight, vicious circles.

Hands jerking, you unclench your fist from your skirt, the other moving from your splayed cunt, and instead, you grip at his thick thighs. “H-Hurts- T-Too much,” you weep, the tears flowing freely as you blubber out a slew of strained moans.

Still, Jimin pays no mind to your cries, and instead, “Again. Cum for me again,” he urges. Twisting his wand inside of you, he shifts the angle to the tip of it, and presses it flush against the soft bundle of tissues that make up your sweet spot, before increasing the vibration to the highest setting.

A strangled howl tears through your lips: the intense reverberations against your g-spot causing you to careen straight off of the precipice of your climax. Second orgasm rolling in directly after the first one, your body violently quakes over him, and you wail out Jimin’s name - the muscles of your throat straining at the sound. This time, your cunt clamps vigorously - almost painfully - and you sob at the fervent heat of euphoria that consumes your entire being. The power of your contracting walls abruptly forces Jimin’s wand out of you, his eyes widening as you practically shoot out the long piece of wood.

“Fucking hell,” Jimin breathes out - his attention glued onto your cunt.

Gush after gush of wetness erupts out of your cunt; the jets of your cum pelting against the glass and dousing it in your essence. Jimin watches you squirt with wide eyes, the action completely unexpected. It only takes him a few moments to recover, however, and rapidly, he presses his fingers to your clit: strumming the viciously pulsating bud in quick, back and forth movements. His ministrations have your orgasm drawing out even further, and thick tears roll down your cheeks at the overpowering sensations that flood through you.

Brazenly, Jimin’s eyes stick to your swollen pussy, watching the way your drenched entrance contracts around nothing as you leak all over yourself, the mirror and the ground. Everything is drenched in your cum, from your own thighs, to parts of his trousers, all the way towards the mirror: rivers of your essence trailing down the magical glass and onto the floor. The heady scent of sex is heavy in the air, and taking a deep breath, Jimin’s chest purrs at the intoxicating smell of your cum.

Body erratically quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your cunt continuously clamps around nothing - and with Jimin’s wand no longer pistoning into you - the sudden emptiness is only exaggerated by the involuntary movement of your walls. Coming down from your high, the ache between your thighs grows to be too much for you, and, “C-Cock- I n-need your c-cock. F-Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” you stammer out, the words coming out slurred; your tongue loose from your orgasms.

For a moment, Jimin falters, and looking at your fucked out form in the reflection, “Are you sure-” he begins.

Hearing the trepidation in his voice, you focus your glassy gaze onto him through the mirror, and, “Ruin me,” you breathe out. Despite the breathlessness in your voice, there’s not a single shred of hesitance in your eyes. Just ravenous hunger.

The corner of Jimin’s jaw flexes as he grits his teeth. Promptly, his apprehension ebbs - giving way to unbridled dominance as his gaze turns dark with lust. A low growl resonates through the air, “As you wish.”

In one smooth motion, Jimin’s hands move to your hips, and then easily, using all his strength, he lifts you and throws you up against the mirror. Eyes widening, you yelp at the sudden movement, your knees scraping against the smooth floor while your clammy hands press against the cold glass. You don’t get a moment to process the change. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jimin’s hands are curling between the soft flesh of your thighs, and forcing them apart, he spreads your legs further. The roughness of his actions cause you to groan, and willingly, you splay your knees further; pushing your ass out towards him.

Jimin’s chest tremors in approval at your gesture, and roughly pushing your skirt up your ass, he spanks the plump flesh. “Good little slut,” he praises. The sudden, acute impact on your lower cheeks has you squealing, the sound morphing into a garbled groan of pleasure. Emboldened by your reaction, and the way your ass ripples under the ministration, Jimin repeats his action.

A harsh slapping sound echoes through the air, pain flaring along your ass cheeks, and responsively, your head drops onto the mirror. The glass is cold, and refreshing against your sweat-soaked forehead. Jimin barely pays you any mind, and instead, he spanks you once more - as hard as he can. This time, you howl in ecstatic pain. Between the thick band of his ring, and his bulging biceps, this particular spank strikes your ass in the most enticing way possible. Cunt clamping down around nothing, you let out a low whimper at the incessant ache in your core, your breath fogging against the mirrored surface.

“J-Jimin- fuck me, please,” you beg.

One last time, Jimin brings his hand onto the plump cheek, before gripping the fleshy globes with both hands and pulling them apart. Under his action, you find your cheeks tinging with heat with mortification: Jimin exposing the entirety of your cunt and asshole towards his gaze. Seeing the way the puckered rim twitches, Jimin groans, and keeping one of your ass cheeks parted, he moves the other hand to brush your tight entrance.

A single finger indolently traces the ringed muscles of your ass, and you let out a breathy whine, your muscles locking at the sensation. “Such a pretty little asshole,” Jimin casually mutters. With how turned on you are, not to mention cumming so hard you’d squirted, the back entrance is completely slicked with your own juices. Grazing the blunt tip of his finger against your asshole, Jimin begins tracing teasing circles around the rim. “I bet it’s nice and tight in there. I bet you’d look so fucking hot struggling to fit my cock in that tiny little hole,” he mumbles. His voice is breathier, and filled with hunger, and you can’t help but whimper at the sound.

Suddenly, Jimin presses his finger against the rim of your ass, and your eyes widen as you feel the pressure: his finger threatening to enter your virgin ass. Nonetheless, before the digit can dip inside, he’s pulling away. “But that’s for another day,” he murmurs. “Right now, the only hole I’m interested in, is this one.” Abruptly, he forces two fingers into your cunt.

“AH-” you gasp, your eyes fluttering when he begins thrusting his thick digits in and out of your sodden entrance. Instinctively, your hips begin writhing, and pushing them back in slow movements, you fuck yourself onto his fingers: in a bid to take them deeper into you.

The silken walls of your cunt ripple around his fingers, and with each surreptitious contraction, your velvet cavern threatens to swallow his fingers further. “Such a needy cunt,” Jimin hums, his lips ghosting over the length of your shoulder as he presses chaste kisses to your skin. Parting his fingers in a ‘V’ shape, Jimin groans when he feels the tight resistance of your walls, “And so tight too.”

Driven near insane by the filth he spews, and the way he plunges his thick digits into your pussy, a soft mew slips from your lips. Nonetheless, it’s not enough. “D-Don’t t-tease m-me. W-Want your c-cock,” you beg with a stammer; your voice coming out higher pitched, and more desperate, than you’d intended.

“Insatiable whore,” he purrs, and despite the clear derision to his words, his tone is sweet. Almost affectionate. Still, Jimin pulls his fingers out of you, and instead, his hands move back to your ass. Cupping the cheeks, he pushes the plump flesh up and outwards, bearing the entirety of your dripping cunt to his gaze once more. He mumbles another spell under his breath, and to your utter surprise, a loud tearing sound fills the air.

You watch in shock as your skirt falls to tatters on the floor below you, but before you can say anything, Jimin is pressing his naked hardness flush against your bare sex. A shallow gasp slips through your lips, only for it to morph into a low groan when he begins grinding the velvet shaft into you. Hands still pressed flat against the mirror, you watch Jimin through the reflection. He’s still fully dressed in his uniform. The top few buttons of his white oxford are unfastened: exposing the defined peaks of his collarbone, and a few inches of his chest.

Meanwhile, his leather belt is undone, the two long pieces hanging on either side. Similarly, the button of his trousers and his zipper are open, his thick cock standing proudly through the opening. Attention dropping to the throbbing member, your eyes dilate with lust. He’s thick - incredibly thick. So thick, in fact, that a tremor of fear flutters through you, because there’s no possible way it’s going to fit inside of you. And yet, mixed with the fear is overwhelming anticipation, because you can’t help but want to feel his cock stretch you out. Even in the most painfully pleasurable way.

Jimin grips the base of his shaft with one hand, and angling it towards your entrance, he smacks the head against it. A loud, wet smack resonates through the air, and feeling the heavy weight of his cockhead against your wet cunt, you whine in need. Flexing his hips, Jimin slips his cock between your thighs before he begins thrusting it against your folds. Your slick lips spread on either side of his thick girth, and with each thrust, the prominent seam of his cockhead drags against your hardened clit.

Losing yourself in the pleasure, you let out a slew of breathless groans - your breath condensing on the glass - as you undulate your hips back onto him. Chest purring, Jimin lowers his head and presses an open-mouthed kiss onto the flesh just below the nape of your neck. At the same time, one of his hands grip your ass tighter, the other still holding onto his cock; and staring at you through the reflection, “That’s a good slut. Wet my cock with your cum,” he urges. Your body shudders at the sound.

Even as he kneels behind you, almost eye-level with your own gaze, he’s somehow still incredibly imposing. Noticing your gaze on him, Jimin smirks predatorily: his teeth peeking through the seam of his lips. Dark eyes, tumultuous with desire, lock onto your own, and while holding your stare, Jimin drags his cock through your folds in one long stroke, before pressing the head at your fluttering entrance. As the crown of his bulbuous cockhead pushes against your ringed entrance, you both moan.

Turning his attention down to your drenched folds, Jimin hisses when he spots the way your honeyed hole ripples. “Such a small, wet, little cunt,” Jimin groans. Then, gripping his cock tighter, he circles the head around your entrance, “Merlin, look at how tiny your cunt is compared to my cock. I don’t think it’s going to fit,” he chuckles.

Despite the clear taunt to his voice, you shake your head. “It’ll fit,” you whine, your hips thrusting back to take him into you.

Humming, “Hmmm, are you sure, Kitten?” he asks, and furiously you nod your head.

“I can take it. I can. Please. Please fuck me open. Please,” comes your soughed pleas, your eyes swirling with unbridled hunger. Behind you, Jimin exhales deeply at the clear neediness to your voice.

Jaw flexing, “Then take it,” he hisses through gritted teeth. That’s all he says, because the next thing you know, he’s pressing the crown of his cock against your cunt. A dull pressure builds up against your entrance, and your eyes widen at the sensation, a stifled whimper slipping through your lips.

You’re soaked, your entrance positively dripping, and as such, he should easily slip into you. In spite of that, however, he struggles to enter you: his absurd girth causing the taut muscles of your pussy to protest the stretch. For a moment your eyes flutter shut, causing Jimin to release your ass, only to spank it instead. “Look at me. I want you to watch as I fuck this tight, unused little cunt open for the first time,” he hisses.

Whimpering, your eyes snap open, your attention catching his. And it’s at that exact moment, that Jimin thrusts harshly. The force of his movement causes the mushroom-tip of his cockhead to squeeze into you with a sudden pop. Spine twisting, your back arches as a dry sob tears from your throat. Your eyes mist with tears once more, pleasure and pain surging through your body.

“J-Jimin,” you whine with a wince. A searing ache burns ripples through your tight cunt, the ringed muscles smarting as they strain around Jimin’s dense shaft. But, it’s not all pain. No, even through the agonising burn, there are intoxicating undercurrents of pleasure - the ecstasy cutting your discomfort.

Hands moving to rest on your hips, Jimin skims them over the swell before rubbing soothing circles into your soft curves. Arcing his neck down, he buries his face into your neck and presses a soft kiss to the column. “Shhh, Princess. You can take it, can’t you?” he cajoles. Regardless of his soothing gestures, however, Jimin continues pushing his unrelenting hardness into you.

Nodding your head, you force the entrance of your cunt to relax further, and feeling the muscles ease slightly, Jimin presses the rest of his cockhead into you - right up to where it meets the shaft. Once sufficiently inside of you, Jimin’s fingers flex, and digging the pads into the flesh of your hips, he begins pulling you onto his cock. Inch by heavy, agonising inch, his unyielding hardness spears into you. Gradually, the thick girth of his cock stretches out your walls: pulling your virgin passage apart around his heavy intrusion.

When he’s around half way into you, you let out a strangled cry, “F-Fuck, y-you’re h-huge,” you whimper. Jimin chuckles wrly.

“Are you sure you can take it, Sweetheart? Hmmm? Can your sweet, little, virgin pussy take my fat cock?” he taunts, slipping another two inches into you.

Nails scraping against the smooth glass, you drag your hands down the surface and hastily nod your head. “I-I c-can,” you respond.

Plump lips pressing to the roots of your scalp, “That’s my good girl,” he praises with a kiss. His warm breath fans across your scalp, and you shiver involuntarily.

Without a warning, his hips flex, and Jimin roughly thrusts the final few inches of his cock into you, the length bottoming out to the hilt. The sudden movement has you howling, your head falling onto the mirror once again. Against your will, your cunt ripples around his cock, your inner muscles contracting and clenching around his unrelenting shaft as it tries to force out the thick intrusion. Nonetheless, with Jimin’s hips pressing firmly against your ass, the clamping only massages his cock. Cock completely buried inside you now, his balls pressing flush against your wet sex, Jimin halts.

In the reflection of the mirror, Jimin watches as your face contorts in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your eyes are hooded: the lids fluttering with every passing impalement of his cock; and your mouth is parted: your breathing laboured as you struggle to take his cock. Regarding you with his dark, lust-filled eyes, he trails his gaze down your body - stopping briefly at your throat and shoulders - where he admires the love bites he’s littered onto your skin. Trailing his attention further down, he passes by your heaving chest: your breasts rising and falling with the movement, and your stomach, before stopping at the apex of your thighs.

In your current position, he can’t see the way his girth pulls apart your walls. What he can see, however, is the way your thighs tremble: the inner flesh covered in a thin sheen of your own arousal; and the way your nether lips drip with your wetness: filmy strings of your essence dangling in the air, some clinging to the skin of your thighs. Involuntarily, his cock twitches at the sight, and feeling the movement inside of you, you whimper out.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that - Jimin’s hands tenderly massaging your hips as he impales you on his cock. In fact, it feels like forever: time passing by slowly as you swim in the pain of his cock splaying your innermost depths. Gradually, however, the ache begins to ebb, and before you know it, you're left with just the delicious feel of Jimin’s immense girth splitting your cunt open. Perking up, you lift your head off of the glass, and taking a shuddering breath, you experimentally clench around his cock.

At the voluntary movement, Jimin’s shaft is emphasised inside of you, and you could swear that he hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he’d fuck the shape of his cock into you. Twin sounds of pleasure cut through the air: your low moan intertwining with Jimin’s strangled groan. Dropping his head down to your shoulder, Jimin bites down onto your flesh, and feeling the pain of his teeth sinking into your skin, you cry out in pleasure.

“Don’t do that unless you’re ready for me to fuck you,” Jimin warns. Deep inflexion of his voice resonating through your ear, you exhale deeply and repeat the motion. Except this time, you clench even harder.

“Fuck me,” you implore.

Mouth twisting into a derisive, lop-sided grin, “Hold on there, Kitten,” he purrs. That’s the only warning you get.

In one smooth motion, Jimin is retreating his cock out of you, until only the head is nestled inside of your cunt; only to thrust back in quickly. With one, swooping surge, he bottoms out of you, and the force of the movement has your entire body jerking. Grounding his knees onto the floor, Jimin uses the leverage to begin fucking you roughly. Hands braced up against the mirror, you attempt to find some form of purchase as your entire body jerks from his rough thrusts. However, with how smooth the glass is, you find none. Rather, your clammy palms slowly slide down the surface.

Sobs of pain and pleasure wrack your body with each drive of his hips, your toes curling as pleasure burns through your veins. Each plunge of his cock into your silken depths has you feeling every inch, every ridge of his cock. His immense girth pulls apart your walls deliciously, filling you up to your absolute limits. As the velvet shaft drags across your inner walls with each plunge, you feel him stimulate nerves you didn’t even know existed - the motions setting your entire body afire.

Jimin grips your hips tighter, and somehow, you feel his pace increase as he begins practically jackhammering into you. Your body jerks from the force of his thrusts, and consequently, you bounce harder onto his cock. Spreading your knees to brace yourself a little more, Jimin seizes the opportunity, and he angles his hips before he ruts into you even harder. The motion forces his cock to enter deeper into you, and you wail as you feel the blunt tip of his cockhead kiss the soft walls of your cervix with each thrust. Nonetheless, he pays you no mind, and instead, begins pulling your hips - forcing you to fuck back onto his cock.

His rough actions draw out feverish groans and slurred moans from your lips. The change in angle means that with each plunge of his cock, the head of his cock drags against the sweet-spot inside you, before it batters the back of your cunt. Soon, a dull ache begins settling deep within your stomach, and with each vehement pump of his cock, the discomfort slowly intensifies. “A-Ah, J-Jimin. T-Too d-deep,” you croak out with a stammer.

Dipping his head down, Jimin drags his lips against the shell of your ear. He takes the tip of it within his mouth, and biting down hard, “Isn’t this what you wanted, Sweetheart? Didn’t you want me to ruin your cunt?” he growls out. Then, with one deep thrust, he forces as much of his cock into you, before suddenly coming to a halt. “But if you want, I can stop.” The low tremor of his voice has your cunt clenching.

“N-No. Please d-don’t stop,” you whine, a mix of neediness and displeasure lacing your voice. Delirious with lust, you buck your hips onto his cock, and Jimin swiftly spanks your ass.

“That’s what I thought,” he hisses.

Out of the blue, one of Jimin’s hands moves from your hips, and instead, he hooks the arm under your knee. Hiking your leg up, he exposes your entrance to the both of you, and in the new position, nothing is left to your imagination.

The entirety of your sex is swollen with need, your clit visibly throbbing as it begs for attention. Slick with arousal, your entire cunt glistens in the low lighting of the room, and with how wet you are, thin rivulets of your arousal drip down your folds and onto Jimin’s balls. Dropping your gaze a little lower, you whimper at the sight. Your cunt is completely stretched, the ringed muscles pulled thin as they struggle to accommodate Jimin’s thick length. Like the rest of your pussy, your honeyed entrance is equally swollen; undoubtedly from Jimin’s brutal thrusts.

“Fuck. Look at you.” Jimin’s voice suddenly cuts the silence of the room. “See the way that unused little cunt has stretched? Mmmm. So fucking hot,” he hums.

Pulling out his cock, the both of you watch as your cunt grips his length, the ringed muscles being pulled with the movement. Once he’s only got his cockhead buried inside of you, Jimin thrusts in roughly once again. The sudden intrusion has you crying out in pleasure. “Fuck. How are you still so tight, Princess?” he grunts, his voice coming out strained. “Merlin, I’m not going to last long,” he mumbles, more to himself than anything.

“P-Please cum in m-me,” you whimper in response.

Jimin takes in a deep, steadying breath and then eyes flashing mischievously, “Oh, don’t worry, Princess. I’m going to ruin this cunt for anyone else. I’m going to fuck you so good that the only cock you want, the only cock you crave is mine. And then, I’m going to cum deep inside you, and dirty up your desperate - wet - pussy even more. So that you know, it’s all mine,” he growls.

“Now watch me fuck this sweet little hole open,” he orders. The next one of Jimin’s thrust causes your vision to blur, white spots blinding you.

Keeping your leg propped up with one of his arms, he moves the other from its position on your hips. Fingers tenderly stroking your hair, you shudder at the affectionate touch, only to cry out when he grips your hair and yanks your head back. The movement exposes your neck and using the opportunity, Jimin buries his face into the crook as he bruises it with more of his marks. At the same time, he begins riding you furiously - enjoying the way your inner walls ripple around his cock in the most enticing way possible.

Each thrust has his hips smacking against your ass and the sound of skin slapping is only broken by both your moans of pleasure, as well as the wet squelching of his cock fucking into your sopping wet cunt. Taking the flesh of your throat between his teeth, he nips and nibbles, causing the skin to turn tender under his ministrations. Then, releasing it, his tongue flicks out, he licks one broad line up your neck.

Getting to the spot just under your ear, he bites down on the soft flesh of your earlobe. “You like this don’t you, Kitten? You love the way this fat cock stretches you out. The way I ride your pussy hard and fast,” he taunts. The words shoot straight through your ear and down to your core, your cunt clenching responsively around his cock. You let out a garbled moan of affirmation, and Jimin lets out a throaty laugh.

“Merlin. Who knew the sweet little Head Girl was such a whore? Everyone thinks you’re so innocent. How do you think they’d react to seeing you like this? Your legs spread as you take my cock?” he questions and the teasing lilt to his voice has your thighs shaking.

Fog of euphoria nipping at the edges of your being, you feel the dull ache inside your stomach slowly intensify with every one of his thrusts. The muscles of your throat tighten at the pleasure, and in a bid to lubricate them, you swallow thickly. Behind you, Jimin continues plunging his cock into you, over and over again. Each thrust has his thick shaft dragging against every erogenous zone inside of you, and soon, you find yourself climbing higher and higher towards your peak.

Teetering on the brink of your orgasm, your stomach knots and twists. But it’s not enough. Between the apex of your thighs, your neglected clit viciously throbs - practically weeping as it begs for attention. Dry sob falling from your lips, “M-More. W-Wanna cum,” you croak out. Consumed by the pleasure Jimin reaps onto your body, electric ecstasy courses through your veins - your blood boiling with desire as you feel your end drawing nearer once again.

Swiftly, Jimin releases your hair. Instead, he thrusts his hand between your thighs and finding your clit, he presses the pulsating bud between his fingers. Toying with it gently, “Is that right, Princess? Do you wanna cum? Hmmm? You wanna cum all over this cock?” he ask, an apparent purr to his voice.

Driven mad with lust, it’s all you can do to gasp out your response. “Y-Yes. Please,” you slur. Skin prickling with goosebumps, your body flashes with heat. With each moment that passes, you can feel your orgasm slowly building up, your entire sanity dangling by a single thread.

Hearing your jumbled response, Jimin suddenly takes your hardened clit between his knuckles, and twists. “Then cum,” he orders with a hiss.

Instantly, a strangled wail of pleasure rips from your throat, the muscles of your oesophagus straining under the sound. The additional stimulation causes you to hurtle off of the precipice of your orgasm, and for a third time that night, you drive head first into bliss. Fingers scratching at the glass, you howl out Jimin’s name. Wave after wave of unadulterated bliss sweeps through you, the tide of your climax flooding into every fibre of your being as you sink into euphoria.

Eyes stinging with tears, white-spots blind your vision. Intense tremors wrack throughout your body, but even with the way your muscles tremble under him, Jimin continues thrusting his cock into you. His ministrations intensify your pleasure, and letting out a series of strangled sobs, you screw your eyes shut. Abruptly, the walls of your cunt clamp around his cock in a vice-like grip, and Jimin feels you grow wet once again. With your inner walls clenching and unclenching uncontrollably around Jimin’s thick cock, the Slytherin Head Boy lets out a carnalistic snarl.

“Fuck. That’s it, Princess. Cum around my cock. Fuck,” he urges with a groan. Nevertheless, your euphoria-addled mind barely registers his words. Instead, you fall forward, your body turning limp as you lose all semblance of your sanity as you revel in the waves of rapture that rocket through you. “Oh fuck. I’m cumming,” comes his strained groan.

Underlying ripples of pain begin fluttering through you as Jimin continues surging his cock in and out of your erratically contracting entrance; his fingers still mercilessly toying with your pulsating clit. Overstimulation gripping at you, “Please,” you weep.

Pace faltering, the hand playing with your clit moves to wind around your waist, and Jimin pulls you flush against his chest. Burying his cock as deep into your silken depths as he can, his thick shaft drives through your blissfully beaten cunt and you feel his blunt cockhead ram against the soft walls of your cervix. Instantaneously, your toes curl in pleasure, and your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Tears streaming down your cheeks, you let out a shuddering wail as your walls clamp down around him - almost painfully.

Without warning, Jimin’s pulsating cock swells inside of you, and with a deep roar, he begins cumming. Spurt after spurt of hot cum spills deep inside of your inner walls; Jimin painting your inner walls white with his essence. His cum is thick, and incredibly warm, and as you come down from your elated high, you relish in the feel of it flooding your stomach. Slowly, his cock turns flaccid, and you whine when the bulging thickness begins shrinking inside of you. Once he’s fully spent, he slowly begins pulling out of you.

The movement causes you to flinch, your raw cunt spasming with overstimulation as you feel his cock drag out of you. As soon as his cockhead pops out of your entrance, Jimin runs his nose against the back of your shoulder, and pressing a kiss to it, “Open your eyes and look at your cunt, Sweetheart,” he orders. Sluggishly, your eyes slip open before you lower your gaze to the juncture of your thighs.

Breath hitching in your throat, your eyes dilate at the sight. The previously taut muscles of your entrance are slightly parted open; the ringed flesh intermittently clamping around nothing. Thick trails of his gooey cum run out of your cunt and down onto the floor. Jimin’s teeth suddenly graze against your shoulder and, “See that? See how that tight little hole gapes? How you leak my cum? Such a pretty, ruined, cum-filled cunt,” he taunts.

Lazily, the hand on your clit dips further down your folds and towards your open entrance. A whine emanates from the back of your throat as you both watch, and feel, him press two fingers into you, the digits easily slipping into your battered entrance as he plays with his cum. Flinching at the intrusion, you weakly bat at his hand, an inarticulate sound of protest slipping from your mouth. Chuckling, Jimin pulls his hand away, and wiping his cum across your folds, he kisses the back of your neck.

Carefully, he brings your propped up leg back down, and you flinch at the stiffness in your muscles. So consumed by pleasure, you hadn’t even noticed the muscles begin to turn sore. The moment your knee is back down on the floor, your body slumps. In fact, you’re sure the only reason you don’t fall to the ground is thanks to Jimin’s body propping you up. Jimin lets out another throaty laugh, and wrapping his arms around your body, he pulls you flush against his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and despite the concern in his voice, you can’t help but notice the faintest inkling of amusement.

For a moment, you simply heave for air - in an attempt to satisfy the burn in your throat - and once you’ve caught your breath, you nod. Swallowing thickly, you lubricate the dry muscles of your throat, and, “G-Good,” you verbalise. Another chuckle resounds through the air.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t look like you are,” he teases. Lips curling into a slight pout, you meekly smack his thigh. Though, still weakened from your orgasm, you’re sure he barely feels it.

“You’d be like this too if you’d been fucked as hard as I was,” comes your response, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“You’ve got me there,” Jimin responds with a laugh. “Are you even going to be able to make it back to the dorms?” he asks, a teasing smile on his face.

You pause hearing his words. Then, pulling your lower lip between your teeth, “Oh… we can sleep here… if you want,” you whisper, your eyes dropping to stare at the floor.

Jimin raises an eyebrow at your sudden timidness, and for a moment, he can’t help but think how cute you are. Really, he’d just fucked you to kingdom come, and yet here you were, getting all embarrassed with asking him to share a bed with you. Nonetheless, he ignores your shyness. Instead, “There’s no bed here,” he deadpans.

Suddenly perking up, “Oh! This is the Room of Requirement. We can just ask for a bed. See,” you respond, gesturing your head to the side of the room. Tilting his head, Jimin watches in surprise as a bed suddenly materialises out of nothing. For a moment, he wants to question it, however, after a few short seconds, he simply brushes it off.

Instead, his arms tighten around your body, and carefully, using all his strength, he picks you up. He carries your limp body towards the bed, and with each step, you find your heart beating faster and faster. Eyes transfixed onto his face, you chew on your lip once again. His flesh is covered in a thin coating of perspiration, and the ends of his dark-pine locks are soaked with sweat. Still, however, he looks beautiful: his skin glistening under the low lighting of the room.

Getting to the bed, you feel Jimin lower your naked body onto the mattress. The instant you feel the heavy weight of the cotton sheets, your spine shudders. Not wasting a single moment, you quickly shuffle your body under the covers, your shoulders relaxing when your bare figure is once again hidden. Beside the bed, Jimin strips down to his boxers. Deft fingers undo the buttons of his white oxford, and once all are unfasted, you watch as he peels the sweat-soaked material off of his body, his toned muscles rippling under taut, honey-kissed skin.

Once his shirt is off, Jimin swiftly shimmies out of his slacks - the fabric pooling around his ankles. Unable to tear your eyes from him, you watch as he steps out of the article, his thick thighs bulging within the confines of his boxers. Which, speaking of, once again hides his cock. You have no idea when he’d tucked it away, but you can’t help but feel disappointed. Nonetheless, your displeasure doesn’t last long, because the moment he’s done stripping, Jimin walks to the other side of the bed, and crawls into the covers beside you.

Feeling the bed dip with his weight, you turn to him, and nervously smile at him. Jimin easily notices your bashfulness and freezing for a moment, he looks at you in concern. “If it’s too awkward to share a bed, we don’t have to,” he says. Quickly, you shake your head.

“No! It’s not that… it’s just… this is the first time I’ve shared a bed with someone,” you mumble out, your head ducking under the covers in embarrassment. A deep-bellied laugh resonates through the air, and you feel Jimin tug the covers down.

Squealing at the sudden movement, you attempt to hide once again. However, Jimin’s arms swiftly wrap around your bare waist, and in one smooth motion, he pulls you into his embrace. “I’ve already taken your first time. It’s only right that I take this first time too, then,” he jokes. Despite the lighthearted tone to his voice, you find your chest tightening.

The feel of Jimin’s warm skin pressing against your back has your shyness quickly fading, and instead, your body melts into his. Head pressed to his bare chest, you hear the steady beat of his heart. The rhythmic pulsing soothes your nerves, and involuntarily, a soft smile curls onto your lips. Thoughtlessly, you snuggle further into him, and reflexively, Jimin’s arm tightens around your waist; allowing you to search for a comfortable position. Once you find it, you still, before revelling in the tenderness of your actions.

Silence befalls the room, and for long, drawn out moments, you simply relish in them. That is, until you really process the intimacy of it all. In your current position, your naked chest is flush against Jimin’s, the soft swells of your breasts pressing against his own, muscular ones. One of Jimin’s hands lazily traces shapes onto the flesh of your hips, the other tucked under the pillow. Your face presses into the crook of his shoulder, the deep notes of sandalwood and bergamot intertwining with Jimin’s own natural scent.

Stiffening in his arms once again, butterflies flurry through your stomach. You’re not stupid. You know that realistically, just sleeping with each other, doesn’t mean that you’re together. If that was the case, Jimin was probably dating every single apprentice, not to mention a few mastership students, in Hogwarts. No, you have no real fantasies that this means anything to Jimin. And yet, as he holds you in his arms, you can’t help but let your mind wander.

Sensing your nervousness, Jimin flexes his arms. He bends his head, and brushes plump lips against your forehead. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice deep, and baritone.

“Nothing,” you quickly respond. Jimin simply lets out a deep exhale of amusement.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” he replies. Then, nudging your head with his nose, “Go on, tell me what’s on your mind,” he urges. Sucking in a sharp breath, you contemplate his words. For a few moments, you simply deliberate on whether or not you should say it. Or well really, ask him. You have no idea how he’ll react, and you know there’s a good chance he’ll simply laugh and wave you off. Nevertheless, this could be your only chance.

So, taking a deep, steadying breath, you gather all your courage, and, “Will you go to Hogsmeade with me?” you ask. The words rush out of your mouth in one single breath, and pulling away, Jimin regards you in surprise.

“Like… a date?” he clarifies, and bashfully, you nod your head. He doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, he simply watches you carefully, his features carefully passive. With each second that passes, you feel your courage and hope dwindle; mortification once again settling in your bones. Then, to your utter surprise, Jimin speaks.

“Sure,” he agrees. Eyes widening, your face shoots up as you gawk at him.

“Wait, really?” you stupidly ask. At your question, Jimin snorts.

“What? Did you not really want to go?” he asks, and despite the evident playfulness of his voice, you quickly shake your head.

“N-No. I just… didn’t expect you to agree,” you reply lamely. Jimin nods.

“Well, if I’m being honest, I’ve never really thought about it. Or you… like that,” he begins, and swiftly, you find yourself deflating. Sensing your upset, Jimin bends his head down and presses a kiss to your shoulder, “But, that was only because I didn’t really think we would be compatible… but after tonight… you’ve definitely piqued my interest, _____,” he continues.

Hope blooms through you once again, and against your will, you find a smile curling onto your lips, “Really?” you ask. Hearing the happy inflexion to your voice, Jimin can’t help but chuckle.

“Yes, really,” he replies. Then, a grinning wolfishly, he teasing grazes his teeth against your shoulder before biting down softly. The action causes you to gasp, and Jimin lets out a low growl. “Besides, I can’t wait to learn what else you saw in the mirror.” Instantly, your cheeks flush, and you let out a little whine.

“Stop teasing me,” you grumble.

Humming, “Nope,” Jimin replies, popping the ‘p’. “You’re too cute when you’re embarrassed for me to do that,” he explains.

You let out a little huff, and open your mouth to retort. Only to pause. Suddenly, a thought crosses your mind, and responsively, your eyebrows knit together. Curious as to what the mirror showed him, “What did you see?” you ask. A wicked smile curls onto Jimin’s face, his dark-pine hair hanging loosely in the air as he grins at you.

“Nothing,” comes his simple answer. Eyebrows creasing in confusion, you look at him in scepticism.

“Nothing?” you repeat, disbelief clearly laced in your voice. Jimin only hums in response. Bending his head down, he brushes his voluptuous lips against yours.

“The mirror shows you what your heart desires most. And in that moment, I had exactly what I desired,” comes his simple response. Instantaneously, a warm fuzziness flurries through your stomach; but as soon as it comes, it goes. Because, the next moment, Jimin is pulling you in for a deep kiss.

a/n: i hope y’all jimin fans are well fed, i know i’ve been starving y’all sjfjsjjfjdf anyway. this was super hard to write because i don’t see jimin sexually nor romantically so i struggled with it A LOT but 😭i hope i did it justice 😭 please don’t forget to lmk what you thought 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

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[wearywinchester]

With You

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When the sleeping arrangements appear to be less than ideal, something more comes out of it.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mentions of injury, blood, fluff

A huff.

That’s one of the first things you had done when you had initially found out about your sleeping arrangements earlier that morning, delivered to you by a smiling Sam who’d tried to soften the blow with his famous puppy eyes. Those very eyes only half worked on you this time, and maybe it would’ve gone into full effect had you not looked at his brother who’d been standing at your other side with a knowing grin on his lips.

You must have asked Sam nearly a dozen times if he’d been sure that was the very last room and each time you were met with the same answer, each time you were met with the same grin that was returned with a narrowed stare. You were tempted to sleep in the car, even on the concrete of the parking lot so long as you didn’t have to share a bed with the older Winchester. But none of those options seemed to check out.

A huff is what you’d done upon entering the motel room later that evening, the lone bed awaiting you as if to taunt you and your very fate.

The hunt hadn’t gone exactly as planned, having gone south just enough to have Dean thrown through a wall by a more than hungry vampire. It wasn’t anything a few bandages couldn’t fix, a job he’d asked you to do.

Now here you were, standing between Dean’s thighs as he sat at the edge of said bed, leaning back against his palms until you’d told him not to with a huff.

“I’m quite sure you could’ve done this yourself you know,” you mumble, grabbing ahold of his chin when he shied away from you at the sting of the antiseptic on his face. “Actually I’m positive.”

“You do it better,” he said, a smile forming on his bloodied lips.

“That was stupid what you did back there,” you say, doing your best to distract yourself from thinking of just how close you were to him in that very moment. Though trying your hardest didn’t seem to be the solution you were looking to have. “Really stupid.”

“Oh, you mean saving you? I had it covered.”

“I had it covered. I’m not the one who got thrown through a wall now am I?”

He scrunched his nose and mocked your words, an action he came to regret as he winced while he brought his fingers up to his split lip and now it was your turn to smile. He knew full well you were right but he’d never admit it, not in a million years. That was something he’d keep to himself. Truth was, he felt it was a little too close of a call back there, more dangerous than he’d liked and he couldn’t help the instincts he’d had to step in. If he’d gotten bumps and bruises along the way then so be it. That was far more worth it to him than the damage being done to you instead.

But that was also something he’d leave to himself for the time being.

“Could you be a little more gentle, Bruce Banner?” He teases, bumping you with his knee. “Feels like you’re doing more damage than fangs did back there.”

You purse your lips at his words, landing a soft punch to his shoulder that wiped the last traces of his smile from his face in favor of an equally unamused expression.

“What? You said I’m the hulk.” You shrug nonchalantly, flashing him a smile. “Just living up to the name.”

You notice the way the corner of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly as he looked away, any traces of faux annoyance leaving his face and you made a concerted effort to be gentler this time, just a little. You also noticed the way he’d relaxed some, save for a few nose scrunches each and every time you’d cleaned the scrape on his face.

“Might hurt a little less if you held still,” you suggested after a while later when he’d groaned, the bite behind your tone something he noticed immediately.

“Ease up with the attitude, will you, sweetheart?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward again, more so when you roll your eyes at the nickname. The one that made your heart flutter and your cheeks grow warm whenever it rolled off his tongue in your direction. The one that fell from his lips with a sarcastic edge that never failed to weave around the single word most times, but not always. Yeah, that one.

“Be quiet, will you, sweetheart?”

You breathe out a huff through your nose, lips turned downward and the slightest of frowns as your brows knit together. The remnants of his smile still remain at your counter as his eyes fall closed once more, lashes curling softly over the very tops of his freckled cheeks. The silence that fell over the small room should’ve been a good thing, should’ve been beneficial for your ability to focus on the task at hand but your attention has since been pulled elsewhere. It’d been long gone the moment the two of you stepped into that room.

It felt as though the walls were closing in on you inch by inch, as if the air conditioned room was just as hot as the summer air outside. You wanted to make excuses for yourself, to think of something logical enough to pass it off as anything other than what it was. Perhaps it’d been a little stuffy in that room, it certainly was hot enough to be. Maybe you were still running on adrenaline from the hunt you’d come back from not more than half an hour ago. Or maybe it was the way you stood inches from the older Winchester as you tended to his wounds while he sat with that same smirk he’d been wearing for the last five minutes. The way he nudged you with his knee each time stung the scrape along his jaw.

That. It was definitely that.

“You know,” he started, tilting his head away from you with a scrunched nose as his hand circles around your wrist. “I’m convinced you’re doin’ this on purpose. Because you hate me after all.”

His brow was raised and you could’ve sworn you’d seen a brief moment of sincerity cross his face, something just as quickly hidden by the grin tugging lightly at his lips. Your eyes roll then, head shaking as a laugh falls past your lips and his hand falls from your wrist slowly.

“I don’t hate you,” you sigh, quiet enough to cushion the embarrassment of your words but loud enough for him to hear.

“So you like me?”

Yes, maybe you do.

Your gaze shifts from your hands back to his eyes, your stare narrowed as you bite the inside of your cheek. “I don’t think that’s what I said.”

He laughs softly, dimple forming at the corner of his mouth as he gives a nod, then a hum as if he’d been mulling over the meaning of your four word statement spoken just moments before. As if he didn’t believe a single one of those words to be true, as though he had seen right through you. If he did, he didn’t say anything, eyes sparkling at you.

You hoped he hadn’t seen how your hands shook as you worked, continuing to blot the peroxide soaked cotton ball over the scrape lining his jaw. He didn’t particularly like the sensation, the action stinging sharply with each press of it along the fresh wound. You tried your hardest to ignore the way he’d gathered a fistful of the comforter within his hand, or the way his very jaw tensed under your palm. You tried not to notice the way he’d scooted closer to the edge of the bed, closer to you.

You swallowed, biting your cheek as you grabbed a fresh cotton pad and wet it with more antiseptic. Now it was the part you’d been saving for last, the part you’d put off as long as you possibly could in hopes that maybe it’d magically heal itself. Maybe it’d disappear if you’d waited just a few seconds longer. But fate didn’t humor you this time, the cut along the curve of his bottom lip still very much there and waiting to be tended to as hues of scarlet sat smudged around it, pooling slightly at the corner of his mouth.

It’s not a big deal. Nothing worthy enough to make your stomach twist in knots, nothing to add to the shake in your hands or the quickened pace of your heart. It was just Dean Winchester, the man you swore got on your last nerve and not at all was the source of your butterflies over time.

Definitely not a big deal.

“Would it kill you to hold still?” You ask, huffing once more.

“No, but you’re cute when you’re angry,” he says, brow raised in amusement.

You settled your hand on his jaw, thumb resting just under his lip to keep him stilled in place though it was becoming all the more difficult to hold your focus now that you’d done so. He was grinning at you again, soft as it lingered on his lips, careful to not tug at the split adorning it or the pale crimson smeared lightly over the edge that you were quick to wipe away before your heart beat out of your chest. You swiped your thumb over his bottom lip as you did so, your breath hitching softly.

“Something wrong?” He asked, the ever familiar tease to his words not lost on you.

“What makes you say that?”

When you look up, you meet his gaze and you’re starting to wonder just how long it’d been that he’d been looking at you like that. In such a way that you bit the inside of your cheek to try your hardest to keep the traces of a smile beginning to develop from becoming obvious. What had also been obvious was the fact that your hand was still on his cheek, his stubble scratching lightly against your palm and you could feel each and every time it’d clenched, or the way his voice rumbled just so under your fingertips.

You pretended you couldn’t see the details in his eyes—every shade of green and every fleck of yellow that swirled within them all framed by lashes that curled away from them. You pretended you couldn’t see the smattering of freckles that peppered across the bridge of his nose, more sparse as they danced across the very tops of his cheeks, ones you hadn’t ever noticed until you were just mere inches from his face. Said freckles dotted along his skin, meshing with the pink of his lips that you’d just been tending to before you got caught up with seemingly more pressing matters.

It was becoming increasingly more apparent just how close you’d been to the green eyed hunter when you felt the warmth of his breath fan over your skin, over the pad of your thumb. It was near dizzying when it swept over you, his once teasing smirk falling in favor of a much softer smile. Of course you’d see that, you were staring.

You were staring.

“Y/n?”

You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat in hopes to dissolve some of the tension that was more than apparent in the room. It didn’t work. You dropped your hand from his face in favor of scratching the back of your neck, though the action hadn’t looked as calm as you wanted, all but jerking your hand away as if touching him for a moment longer would sear your skin.

It was then that you turned away from him, your attention fixed on fumbling with the first aid kit that lay sifted through next to him on the bed. Your cheeks burned under his gaze, at the moment you’d just shared that felt as though it’d lasted far longer than it was. The time was indiscernible, but the way your heart hammered in your chest and the way your hands trembled slightly as you haphazardly stuffed cotton pads and unused alcohol wipes was very easy to notice in your eyes.

“Y/n.”

You were so caught up in passing off the last chunk of time as anything other than what it was, as if it didn’t happen, that you hadn’t answered him the first time. It wasn’t until his hand caught your wrist that you looked at him once more.

“You’re good to go, Winchester,” you say, finding your way back to your usual banter in hopes to stave off the remaining tension though you knew it was no use. “Don’t go looking for any more vamps. I’m afraid you just might cry if I have to give you stitches.”

He laughed behind you as you made your way to the bathroom, your smile widening at the sudden sound of his protests upon realizing just what it is you had said.

You closed the door behind you, back pressed to the wood as you let out the breath you’d been holding and you tipped your head back. It was only then that your heart rate returned to nearly normal, eyes falling closed for a brief few moments. You hadn’t entirely been sure what it was that just happened, if anything at all. Though it was more than apparent that maybe you didn’t have it out for him as much as you let on, you knew that to be true as much as you didn’t want it to be.

You took the couple of steps to the sink and ran your hands under the faucet, cooling the heat in your cheeks as you splashed handfuls of water over your skin. You brushed your teeth once—even twice for good measure, doing something, anything to borrow as much time as you could before you had to go back out there. The way you felt jittery, the butterflies in your stomach each and every time his hand brushed over yours or the moment he met your gaze even if it’d only been for a mere second. The way your heart hadn’t quite stopped its racing no matter how much time had gone by. It made you feel as though you were a teenager again with some silly crush.

Now you were sharing a bed with green eyes and you feared this just might be the way you go. Not by a freak accident or a great big ugly monster, but by sharing a bed with Dean Winchester.

With another deep breath and countless minutes later you swung open the door, Dean already having been settled in bed. His boots sat neatly on the floor by his side, jeans strewn next to them. He flashed you a grin, brow quirking upwards.

“Here I thought you ran off on me.”

You roll your eyes at the assumption though you were strongly considering it, more so when you’d noticed the bed was borderline too small for two. But you pushed that down and pulled back the covers, settling close to the edge of your side with your back to him and the blankets up over your shoulders.

He took note of the way you lay huddled on the very edge of the bed, nearly falling to the floor should he move around the slightest bit. Your back was to him but you could still feel his eyes on you, your gaze fixed on the tacky framed painting hanging crooked on the wall.

“Y/n/n, I don’t bite,” he sighs, voice soft and words sincere.

“Yeah right, Winchester,” you mumble, a smile pulling at your lips.

You hear him huff, feel the bed move a little bit in what you assumed was him rolling over for the night. You were ready to dig your heels in and sleep on the edge of the bed out spite even if it was uncomfortable. Even if you did want to tuck in a little closer because you hadn’t hated him as much as you had let on. But you don’t think you’d ever tell green eyes that, not in a million years. He’d never let you live it down and you feel you know that for sure.

“Maybe it’s you that bites,” he suggests, humor in his tone and a grin behind his words.

You snort, head shaking softly.

“Maybe it is.”

You can hear his quiet laugh behind you, the room falling silent once more save for the tick of the clock in the nightstand and the howl of the wind just on the other side of the wall. You’d since move away from the mattress’s edge just merely an inch, unnoticeable by most but more than apparent for you.

It’s quiet when you think about what’s running through his mind, if he’s thinking about what had happened not long before what’s happening now just as much as you had been. If he’d given it second thought at all. You’d been curious as to whether or not he’d gotten just as flustered. Not that it mattered. Not that it didn’t. You were quite sure you were the only one dwelling on the subject. For all you knew, the newfound silence could have been telling that Dean had already fallen asleep and you were perfectly content with pretending the last hour had never happened. More than content, in fact.

That was the plan until the silence was broken.

“Hey, you uh…” he starts, tone much more serious than it had been not long before. “You don’t have to share a bed with me if you don’t want to. I can take the floor.”

His offer was sincere, in fact, that’s the most serious he’d been since you nearly had a close call on the hunt earlier that day. Obviously, he’d followed it with a witty counter and pursed lips, something about learning to not be so reckless falling from his lips. Regardless, he’d meant what he’d just said.

You roll your eyes as you finally move to roll over.

“Dean, don’t be ridiculous—”

Your breath hitched once more when you nearly brushed noses with him, not really just how small the bed was and just how close he’d be. Soon you find yourself in the same situation as you had been once already that day, cheeks burning and heart racing. The same heart fluttering, time stopping situation that made it feel like something even as simple as breathing at a steady rate seems like the most difficult task to achieve to date.

“You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”

The corner up his mouth quirked up, an indicator that was forever telling that he’d been up to something.

“I’m serious, I’m sure it’s not easy to share a bed with Dean Winchester,” he says, a laugh leaving his lips when you swat at his shoulder.

“I don’t think you realize how much of a pain you are,” you grumble, brows knit together in a display of discontent though the way you bite your lip to hide your amusement says otherwise.

What he said, it was obvious, you knew the first time he said it it’d been sincere. He didn’t need to tell you it was for you to believe it. You knew him well enough to know the difference between him poking fun to get on your last nerve and when he’s truthful, you’re just lucky enough to get both.

“Oh but I think I do.” You huff out a sigh, lips pursed as you look up at him and he lets out a breath of his own as he looks at you. “Seriously, I mean it. I can get comfortable on the floor if you want me to.”

You look up at him, laughing softly in a way he knew wasn’t teasing this time. “It’s fine, Dean, really.”

“Oh, so you do like me?”

“Who said that?”

He huffs out a laugh, propping himself up on his elbow as his jaw rests on his palm. He pretends to ponder the question as though it required much thought. “Well, you’re lookin’ at me like that again. Like you did a little bit ago when you were patching me up.”

“Don’t push your luck,” you say, shoving his shoulder again. His reasoning was soft and not entirely teasing, not mocking either and you knew for a fact you’ve got to get better at hiding your emotions. You can’t fight your smile this time, one that was very telling to him that you’d been up to no good. Couldn’t be.

“What?” He asked, face displaying amused curiosity.

“Nothing,” you shrug, “I’m thinking maybe you just want to be close to me,” you say, matter of factly as you look up at him, trying your hardest to take the heat off of you.

“Oh really?” He asks, amusement on his tongue as you nod. “Your cheeks just might be hotter than the sun right now, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes and push his hand away, though you stay right where you are. Even though you promised you hated him, you knew you didn’t. You knew it was far more than that, and you knew you missed the feeling of his hand on your cheek. He knew it too. You hated that your very emotions were so easily pinpointed by him, you were convinced your every thought was too for that matter. You were starting to wonder if you’d been that transparent or if he’d just known you better than you knew yourself.

“Maybe I’ll just sleep in the car with Sam,” you say, though you made no effort to move his hand from your cheek.

He simply hums, nodding his head as his eyes squinted in disbelief that you’d actually consider subjecting yourself to Sam’s snoring in such close quarters. He knew you wouldn’t do that either.

You were doomed.

Never mind the fact that you had now been sharing the same pillow, never mind the fact that you were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath fan over your lips, more so with every word he spoke. You were far too distracted by the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth in a way you knew meant he surely knew you were full of it. By the way his hand settles lightly over your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin in a soft motion.

Your heart bounded as you looked at him, as your cheeks continued to burn under his fingertips. It was then that you did it.

You leaned forward, the inches between you becoming centimeters, centimeters falling to nothing as your lips brushed over his own. You felt him smile, the softness of his laughter sounding against your lips as his hand remained on your cheek and the tips of his fingers tangled in your hair. It wasn’t more than soft touches of the others lips, the second kiss longer than the first, and the third sweeter than the last. And even though you’d parted, neither of you strayed far as your smiles lingered in the close proximity.

He laughs again, fingers brushing over the top of your cheek, thumb smoothing over your skin. It’s that all familiar mix of humor and something a little bit more.

“And here you said you didn’t like me,” he says, the tip of his nose bumping yours.

“And I just might change my mind.”

With that he grabbed your hand, pulling you in closer before he rolled to lay on his back. You settled down on his chest, head over his heart as your smile lingered—you hadn’t seen the one to match yours as his eyes fell closed, but it’d been there.

“So does this mean—”

“Night Dean.”

He pauses for a minute, smiling to himself as he answers his own question.

“Night sweetheart.”

Maybe sharing a bed with green eyes wasn’t so bad after all, but you won’t admit that. At least not to Sam.

—

Tags: @gxtitobxby @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester oneshot #supernatural

[zodiakuroo]

copycat

18+, eren jaeger x fem!reader

part two of pierced

inspired by the 'big stick' scene from jawbreaker (iykyk)

wc: 3.7k

contains: mild dubcon, light dom/sub, ball play, choking, dumbification, degradation, spit, creampie

Eren can’t help but admire you from the doorway of your shared bedroom. One would think, that after 30 days of edging, you would learn not to be such a fucking tease. But here you are flitting around the kitchen in nothing but one of his t-shirts and a frilly pair of lilac panties.

‘Stop being a perv. It’s hot out.’ You don’t have to say it. The ‘you’ in his head is already chastising him for the lascivious nature of his thoughts.

The ‘you’ in his head is also already bent over the granite top counter, panties long discarded, presenting yourself to him, begging ‘Please Eren. Fuck me.’

He can’t help it. Everyday he’s found himself face to face with your cute little pussy, absolutely begging to get filled and not being able to do anything about it. It’s not his fault that when he sees you wearing next to nothing, he just wants to stick his cock in you.

Except it’s entirely his fault.

That’s why even though you can feel the weight of his stare as you move around the kitchen, you don’t even spare a glance in his direction.

If there’s one thing these last few weeks have taught you, its willpower. And thanks to your newfound self-discipline you’re able to resist the urge to pounce on him when your boyfriend pulls your back against the solid wall of his chest. “Baby.” He rasps. “I’m all healed up.”

The statement makes goosebumps appear on your skin despite the sweltering heat but other than that, you show no signs of exactly how pent up you are.

Eren made you swear not to touch yourself whining about how unfair it would be and how he would really appreciate your support in his hour of need. Yes he used those exact words. You kept your promise but not without intending to receive payback. It was only a matter of how. The idea hadn’t come to you yet.

“Really?” You don’t even bother to turn around, pushing past him. Partly as a way to tease him but also because you don’t trust yourself to be able to resist him once you get a good look at him. From his scent alone you can tell he’s fresh from a shower and that’s when he’s the most dangerous. He smells cool and fresh like his shower gel, spicy and warm like his aftershave and fruity and floral like his your shampoo. It’s hypnotic.

The trance is broken when he pulls you even closer to him, grinding his bulge into your backside.

“Stop buying that 2-in-1 shit if you’re gonna use mine all the time anyways.” You grumble.

Right.

Revenge first. Dick second. The voice in your head reminds you.

You wriggle out of his hold, remembering why you came into the kitchen in the first place. You breathe a sigh of relief as you open the freezer door, the cold air providing a brief reprieve from the near suffocating heat of your apartment. Once you’ve obtained your target; a cherry popsicle hidden behind some ice packs and frozen peas, you finally take a look at your tormentor.

“Babe c’mon.” Eren persists.

He looks good. Unfairly good considering the fact that he’s not even trying. Fresh from the shower, he has on a worn out white t-shirt, stretched around the neckline which gives you a mouthwatering look at his perfectly sculpted collarbones and no more than the top of his pecs that peak out above the seam. His grey athletic shorts hang low on his hips and outline his print a little too well so you know he’s not wearing boxers. Eren hasn’t bothered to tie up his long hair leaving the damp tendrils dangling above his shoulders with a few stray strands framing his handsome face. He’s putting up a nonchalant front but the tick in his eyebrow gives his irritated disposition away.

Surely he didn’t believe that you would let him have his way with you that easily.

Except he did. Because under most circumstances he would. But today, your own stubbornness (only marginally) drowns out your desire for your Adonis of a boyfriend so you push past him into the lounge, plopping down on the couch with a dramatic sigh.

“Later.” You bring the frozen treat to your lips. “It’s so hot.” Again, Eren tries to keep his face expressionless but you easily spot the way he clenches his jaw as his gaze fixes itself onto your mouth.

Bingo

You close your eyes, enjoying the sweet cherry taste and cool sensation that spreads throughout your body.

“On second thought,” You start, as a mischievous grin spreads across your face. “There is something else I’d rather have in my mouth.”

“Yeah?” Eren dons a matching smirk and stalks his way over to you, sitting down so that you can straddle him. “Tempting but honestly, your mouth isn’t what I had in mind.” His voice trails off, large hands moving down to cup your ass, giving the soft flesh a squeeze for good measure. But before he can take it any further you’re already manoeuvring your way between his knees.

“Oh. You don’t want me to suck your cock?” You pout, resting your head against his thigh, trying your best to sound disappointed.

Eren swallows whatever argument he was about to present when he sees your pretty eyes, shaded by fluttering lashes looking up at him with the tip of the crimson popsicle pressed against your sinful mouth. The same sinful mouth he’s been dreaming about for a month.

Fuck.

“Yeah, okay.” He grumbles while you watch him pull his already half hard cock out of his bottoms. It’s so pretty and long, perfectly thick in all the right places, decorated at the tip with a vertical running titanium barbell.

He’s got a hand around his base, waiting for you to replace the sweet treat in your mouth with his aching cock but much to his dismay your attention is drawn a little lower.

The sight of his plush balls all swollen and full of cum proves to be too much for you to resist. He shudders when your cold lips press against the taut skin. You know he’s sensitive from being so backed up. That’s why he starts panting as you leave wet kisses on his sac, leaving your saliva all over it while his shaft grows harder above you.

“Hold this for me.” You pass him your popsicle, that is slowly starting to melt which he takes in his free hand.

“Okay can you just- fuck.” One more kiss, right on the shiny metal of his newly healed piercing, shuts him up quickly.

Your own hands find their place on his thighs. You dip your head down again and take one of his balls in his mouth massaging it with your tongue.

“Christ.” He groans, slowly jerking himself off while you worship his balls.

“Oh poor baby…. so full.” You murmur letting go of the left to suck on the right one, savouring the weight of them.

“Yeah.” His voice is about a whole octave higher than usual. “Hurts.” He scrunches up his face when you let go of his ball with a pop.

“I bet.” You giggle. Eren is now at full mast, veiny shaft resting against his abdomen, dribbling precum which coats the shiny piercing that crowns his angry-red tip. His wrist flicks ever so elegantly as his hand moves languidly up and down, up and down, up and-”

“Princess.” Your boyfriend whines, yanking you out of your daze. “Enough with the teasing. You wanted to suck me off. Do it already.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, not losing sight of your revenge plot.

“Baby,” You pout. “I really want to but-” It’s so hard to bite back your laugh. “But I don’t remember how.”

“Wait what?” His hand stops right in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“It’s been so long. Can you show me?”

Eren’s expression goes from perplexed to vicious but you don’t budge, blinking up at him with wide innocent eyes.

“How?” He huffs impatiently. It’s funny actually, seeing him struggle to tolerate a fraction of his own bitter medicine.

Your eyes shift to the frozen treat still in his hand that’s starting to drip down his knuckles. “I’m a visual learner.”

He moves like he’s about to stand up but you won’t make it that easy for him. “Please, Rennie? Please teach me how to suck your cock?”

As much as Eren has you wrapped around his finger, he’s just as whipped for you. So when you look at him with those sparkly eyes and call him the pet name he swears he hates but brings him to his knees when you use it, you know you have him.

Hook, line and sinker.

You use your thumb and middle finger to make a circle around his base, positioning yourself eye level with his leaking slit.

His tongue peaks out cautiously, eyes trained on yours as he flicks it across the tip, testing the waters. Immediately you follow suit, tasting his precum for the first time in so long. His hips buck off the couch, chasing the gone-too-soon sensation but you dig your nails into his thigh, reminding him who’s in control right now.

You quirk your brow at him, making sure he understands what you want.

How many times have you found yourself in this exact position: sitting between your boyfriend’s thighs while he looks down at you, both of you equally as lust drunk as the other. But this time he’s the one panting and whimpering while you have your turn to torture him.

Eren doesn’t like it. Not one bit. He wants to smack that smug little grin right off your face but instead he pulls at your hair, tugging right at the roots and making you yelp in pain. Now you’re scowling. But it’s hard to look at all intimidating sitting beneath him with your head tilted at such an awkward angle. He doesn’t miss the way your thighs clench together either.

Never breaking eye contact, he uses the flat of his tongue to lick a broad stripe up the length of the popsicle. You squirm in place, remembering how it feels to have him lick across your cunt exactly like that.

Fine. He’d play along with your little game. But on his own terms.

You lean forward to copy him but the hand holding your head keeps you in place. Without looking away, Eren launches a glob of spit onto the already drippy ice-cream before licking it away. It’s that simple for him to put a crack in your domineering façade and have you whimpering right at his feet as per usual.

The corners of his lips twitch as a silent challenge to you.

Never one to back down, you use your tongue to trace the vein that runs along the underside of his cock, feeling it pulsate. As you get closer to his prince Albert, you can’t hold back from swirling the wet muscle around the cold metal.

A soft whimper escapes his lips as you pull away, keeping your mouth agape, looking up at him expectantly.

It’s silent for a moment before Eren realises what you’re wordlessly pleading for. “Fucking slut.” He mutters, almost amazed before he gathers more of his saliva to drop into your mouth with a loud khwa pto echoing throughout the quiet apartment.

You close your mouth with a satisfied smile, savouring the taste of sweet, tart cherry and a flavour that is uniquely Eren, letting it mingle with your own saliva before spitting it on to his cock. You use your tongue to spread the wetness all along the shaft, leaving it covered in slick sheen.

“So fuckin’ nasty.” He groans, moving his hand from your head to push his own hair out of his face, not wanting anything to obstruct his view of you right now.

You feel the way his thigh twitches under your palm every time you come even close to his puffy cockhead and your tongue brushes across the sensitive piercing. The idea that you have him like this, desperate and whining, after weeks of him toying with you is exhilarating to say the least.

You have to rein yourself in before you end the fun too soon.

Reluctantly, you pull away and patiently await your next command.

You know what he wants next and so does he but Eren can’t help but feel self-conscious.

Of course, he loves the way you look when you’re going down him. His gallery is filled with pictures of you with your eyes filled to the brim with tears and your lips stretched impossibly wide around his girth. When you’re not around he gets off to the videos him fucking your face, relishing in the way you gag while you try to accommodate him in your throat. He doesn’t think he could ever measure up to how sexy you look with your pupils blown, lips all swollen and your spit dripping down your chin.

But just like you, he’s never been one to back down from a challenge.

Ever so slowly, he opens his mouth and latches on to the blunt top of the popsicle. His plump lips form a perfect O-shaped pout, stained beautiful crimson from the fruit juice. Your gaze is transfixed on his face, the sharp lines and edges tinted with an uncharacteristic blush as his cheeks hollow out, to suck it in deeper.

“So pretty baby.” You breathe out.

He shudders as the cool air fans out across his wet skin.

“Yeah? ‘m pretty?” He smirks, using his free hand to drag his cock across your face, smearing his precum on your lips. “Show me how you treat pretty boys. Please?”

And how could you deny him?

Centimeter by centimeter, you pull him in. Only the first few inches, get to enjoy the warm, slippery cavern of your mouth while the rest of him has to make do with the soft skin of your hand gliding up, down and around.

“Fucking take it inside. Christ.” He groans, frustration evident as he glares down at you.

You simply shake your head a ‘no’, far too content with the taste and the weight of him in your mouth to stop suckling at his cock. If he wants more, he knows what he has to do.

The frozen treat is back between his lips and far too quickly, with not enough thought he pushes it inside as far as it can go until his gag reflex forces him to abort his mission, sputtering out red-coloured saliva.

You pull off of him as you erupt into a fit of giggles.

Eren takes advantage of the fact that you’re unguarded and in a matter of seconds he has you pinned to the floor. The poor popsicle is left in a sad, melting puddle on your couch while his long, sticky fingers circle around both of your wrists, the other hand keeping a harsh grip on your jaw.

Yeah. Not laughing now, are you?

“Was that funny to you princess?” He questions you, almost daring you to hit back.

Knowing when to quit was never one of your strong points.

“Not funny.” You say despite your giddy smile. “My pretty boy just needs more practice.” You snicker.

You’re pushing his buttons on purpose now. At best, you expect some degrading words fitting of your bratty attitude. At worst, you expect the sting of his palm to come down against the side of your face, reminding you of your place.

What you don’t expect is a wry chuckle before he says, “I forgot how bitchy you get when you don’t get stuffed full of cock enough.”

Eren frees your hands in favour of placing both of his on your knees. He spreads apart your legs as wide as they can go, dragging his coarse palms up and up to rest at the apex of your thighs. He flicks up the hem of your shirt to reveal to him the crotch of your panties that's soaked through with your arousal. He pulls them to the side to expose your cunt to him. Eren barely stops himself from tearing the flimsy fabric right off your body and only because he thinks they're pretty and wants to see you wear them again.

He can smell you. But he suppresses the desire to bury his face between your pillowy thighs for as long as you’ll let him. He knows that’s not what either of you really want.

“This needy pussy been missing me?” He coos, keeping his voice sugary sweet and dripping with condescension. He grinds his pierced tip all along your cunt, dipping under your hood to press right against your clit.

You feel it before you realise what’s happening; the burn of his fat head of his cock prodding at your tiny hole, forcing it to stretch around him.

“Jesus fuck- ‘s tight.” He grits out, managing to pop just the tip in.

Tears gather at your waterline as he impales you further and further on his cock, reintroducing your insides to him and his newest body mod. The bulb of the piercing drags deliciously over every bump and ridge that lines your walls. It just keeps going and going until it’s all too much.

Instinctively, your hand flies to Eren’s abdomen, fingers splaying across his tummy. You want to ask him to stop or wait or at the very least prep you. But you’re just so full.

He’s not even all the way in and you’re full of him everywhere. Did it feel like this before?

He doesn't give you a chance to remember.

“Move. Your fucking. Hand.” He grunts before moving it for you and sheathing his cock fully in your spasming cunt.

“Fuck Eren. ‘s big.” Your voice breaks as you utter that last word right one Eren fills you to the hilt. Your arms fly to his biceps, squeezing the muscle so tight that you’re certain it hurts him but he doesn’t complain.

No one would believe that mere minutes ago Eren was the one under your thumb. Not when he’s so quickly managed to turn you into a blubbering mess.

“Where’s that smart mouth now?” He mocks you as if he’s doing any better. In reality he’s keeping himself still, with his pressed against yours trying to regain a semblance of control, not wanting this to end so soon.

Slowly, he starts to rock his hips against you and little by little you open up around him, offering less and less resistance. Hand on the bible, he swears he can feel your gooey pussy sucking him in every time he pulls back, almost like it’s begging him to never leave again. Hand on the bible, he swears that he won’t.

“Huh?” He taunts. “Where’s the bitch who thought she could fuck with me?” He emphasises his point with one sharp snap of his hips that hits the bull’s eye.

“Eren! Right there!” You cry out as you back arches up into him but he forces you to stay down by pressing his palm firmly against your sternum.

“Right there?” He mimics your voice, with a high pitched, nasal tone. You can’t even cringe at how it sounds because the feeling of the rounded metal hitting that squishy patch deep inside you with pinpoint accuracy is too overwhelming for you to think about anything else.

“You want me to fuck you here?” His thrusts start to pick up pace. You’re finally getting used to him again and the slick juices from your pussy let’s him move as fast as he wants, as deep as he wants so you he can use his cock to abuse all of your sweet spots

You can’t exactly speak; only nod, as you dig your nails into his shoulders and back, leaving a trail of crescent shaped indents in your wake. The coil at the base of your belly twists tighter, tighter and tighter still as all your nerve endings work overtime to register the way he fills you up completely, the way the metal rubs along all the right spots and the way Eren rams into you like a man possessed.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” Now you’re begging. It’s impossible to stop the fear bubbling in your chest. You’ve become well-acquainted with this feeling. Absolutely drowning in pleasure and right on the edge of an unimaginable peak before having it ripped away. It’s not unreasonable to be worried that Eren might leave you high and dry once again.

He halts his movements the moment he notices the doubt behind your eyes.

Your pleas become more and more frantic, already thinking the worst. “Don’t stop Eren! Please don’t stop.” You sob but go silent when his hand rests itself firmly around your throat.

“Told you.” He punctuates the sentence with one, deep thrust.

“Fuck. What did I say?” He growls as he falls back into the same brutal rhythm that had you teetering on the very brink of an orgasm before.

God above as your witness, you try and answer but all that comes out is a pathetic squeak of his name before he cuts you off completely by squeezing your neck tighter.

“S-said I was gonna fuck you stupid. Right?”

You nod as best you can, head spinning from the lack of air and your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Now fuckin’ cum for me so I can keep my promise.”

The second his hand meets your clit, you’re a goner. The calloused pad of his thumb rubs the neglected nub with exactly the right pressure to push you over the edge. Every muscle clenches as that tightening coil finally snaps. The intoxicating pleasure that shoots through your body reaches your head at the same time as the pressure on your throat is released, much needed oxygen flooding your brain and prolonging the high.

You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him deep inside you as cream around his cock. It’s pointless to hold off his release any longer and with nowhere else to go he spills his load deep in your pussy. The feeling of his hot cum seeping into your pussy has you twitching around him, trying to milk every last drop from him.

You may have blacked for a second, eyes fluttering open as Eren gently taps your cheek. His handsome face, all flushed and sweaty comes into focus. Both of you are wearing equally dopey grins as he asks you, “Did it feel as good as I said?”

#tw dubcon #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren yaeger smut #eren jaeger smut #eren yaeger x reader #attack on titan smut #eren smut #aot smut #snk smut #eren yaeger x reader smut

[spenciegoob]

Triple Edged Sword Part 1

A/N: Hi ! This is going to be a 3 part mini series and oml I AM SO EXCITED. I haven’t written for 6 years so the updates are most definitely going to be generously spaced out. Anyways let’s get into it.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut.. so smutty, and a dash of fluff

Content Warning: sub!spencer, domfem!reader masturbation (female), penetrative sex, hand job, scratching, hair pulling, slapping

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3k

Part Two | Part Three

____

When Spencer Reid looked at her, his eyes were so kind and filled with so much love for someone that had so much pain behind them. He never thought it was possible to love someone as much as he loved her. His puppy dog eyes served as a reminder to both of them of just how innocent the doctor was.

Spencer hated it. Being the brunt of Derek’s virgin jokes made him want to scream from the rooftops, or a little more civilized, tell him he had a girlfriend.

His girlfriend, however, she loved his curious eyes. The way his pupils would dilate when he looked at every inch of her or his eyes would almost double in size whenever she stripped in front of him. 

It was absolutely infatuating. 

Every time Spencer looked at her, it was like the first time. He couldn’t get enough, and through time he found something else he loved about her body each time he saw it.

He had his doubts for sure, his insecurities sneaking up on him late in the night after she leaves his arms and goes home, but as time progressed, his doubts faded into nothing more than a distant memory when it came to her.

She held the world in her hands, but instead of being selfish and keeping it all for herself, she shared it with him.

Like right now, as she pushed him back until his knees hit the bed and he fell onto the soft cushion with a slight bounce. Already, Spencer was growing hard with anticipation.

“You’ve been a very bad boy today, Spencer.” Even as she scolded him (in the hottest way, may Spencer add), he still looked up at her with the adoration that made it almost impossible to punish him.

Almost impossible.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Please.” What Spencer was pleading for? Not even he knew, but his right hand going to touch her waist gave both of them some idea.

The involuntary act was just as quickly shut down as it started as she backed away and tutted at him.

“Ah, ah, ah Spencer, that is not how we ask for things.” The faux disappointment on her face only made the pleading look on his deepen.

“I’m sorry, miss, it won’t happen again.”

His apology and admission got him the pleasure of her stepping between his parting legs. Spencer didn’t even realize he was doing it. It was as if his body knew how to react to her trance faster than his brain could process. 

She softly grasped his jaw, tilting his head back so he had no choice but to make eye contact with her intimidating stare. A soft whimper escaped his lips at even the smallest physical contact. Her touch was electrifying, and he simply couldn’t get enough.

“What am I going to do with you?” Her hand slowly left his jaw, meeting the other one at the top button on his work shirt. Her gaze still bore into him as her fingers worked swiftly to remove his shirt.

That’s what it was about her that intrigued him beyond belief. Every move she made was calculated, meticulous in and out of the bedroom. Maybe that was his reason for looking at her with so much infatuation. 

Once Spencer’s shirt was completely unbuttoned, she gave him a form of release when she broke eye contact to stare at his now bare chest. Her eyes scanned every inch of exposed skin.

She loved his body. His frame a sculpture that would put famed artists to shame. Her favorite part, however, was when she dragged her fingernails down his torso.

Starting at his jugular, she lightly scratched all the way down to the waistband of his slacks that were becoming tighter right before her eyes. 

She couldn’t focus on that, however. Her focus was on the small red lines that she left in her wake as she softly clawed at his chest. Spencer marked so easy that she couldn’t stop herself from giving him a new one every chance she got.

She didn't need Spencer’s eidetic memory to know what the scene in front of her looked like. His muscles tense under her nails, a new one each time she inched further down. If she closed her eyes, the feeling could serve as her sight like their own special brail.

But she couldn’t close her eyes, not when she got to stare at those lines.

When she finally reached the end of her journey, she pulled her hand away causing Spencer to let out a whiny moan. The sound was music to her ears, and it almost made her give into him right then and there.

Almost made her give in.

“Not yet, baby boy. You haven’t even gotten your punishment for tonight.” This made Spencer let out another hushed whimper. 

“Please Y/N, I need you.” Again, Spencer reached his hand to her waist, but this time, he made contact.

He expected her to grab his jaw like last time, or even pull away from his grasp, but to his surprise, she did neither.

It wasn’t until Spencer opened his hooded eyes completely to look at her face did she move.

No, not move; pounce.

The second his eyes met hers, she forcefully gripped the hair on the back of his head and yanked back hard.

The sudden contact caused Spencer’s eyes to roll back, and a pathetic moan to leave his mouth that was permanently wide open.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She asked through gritted teeth. Even she surprised herself at the sudden dominance, but with Spencer in front of her with barely open eyes and an eager mouth, god did she love it. And apparently so did he, but at the same time, only one thought clouded his mind.

He was fucked. So utterly fucked.

“I-.. I-” At his stuttering, she quickly released his hair with the softest push, only to bring that same palm to the side of his face.

The loud SMACK! replayed over and over in his head as his hips bucked up involuntary. 

Oh.

He liked this more than she thought. Sure, they’ve been a little rough in bed before, their roles always the same. She was there to be pleased, and Spencer was there to please, but she didn’t know how far that line went. 

Spencer on the other hand was turned on more than he had ever been. His cock so painfully hard under the constrictions of his work slacks that if he didn’t get some relief soon, he may burst into tears.

Spencer was still facing the left, his eyes closed and trying to control his heavy breathing. That didn’t pass in her book.

She grabbed his jaw again, this time with much more force, and brought their faces inches apart. 

“I want you on your knees at the foot of the bed. Do not take your eyes off the wall in front of you, and don’t even think about touching yourself. Sit on your god damn hands if you have to. Do you understand me?” Her words came out so smooth, the calm before the storm.

Spencer nodded his head in response, but when the grip on his jaw tightened, he squeaked out “Yes ma’am.”

She released him, and immediately Spencer was on the move, crawling to where he was instructed to go. She watched closely, making sure he followed her directions to a T.

As his eyes settled on the wall the headboard rested against, she smiled and called out.

“Good boy.” The name made Spencer’s heart flutter and his cock twitch. Now with nothing more to focus on than the wall in front of him did he start to really feel the effects of his neediness. 

Whatever she did next would be the death of him.

And boy, was he right!

Out of his peripherals, Spencer could see her start to undress herself. Her eyes only left his for a second to pull her shirt over her head, but Spencer didn’t dare use that split second to take a peak. He was already in enough pain shit to last him a lifetime. 

But then she turned around, and he can barely hear the sound of her jeans being unzipped over the blood rushing through his ears. 

‘Oh god, Spencer. Whatever you do, do not look,’ he thought to himself, and continuously repeated as she pulled her jeans down slowly. Bending down all the way, her ass on full display, Spencer could see that she was wearing her dark purple lacy thong.

His favorite.

She wasn’t even facing him. How could she possibly tell if he snuck a glance in her direction. It would be over in a second, like ripping off a band-aid, like pulling the trig-

‘No, she’ll know don’t do it.” Spencer’s thoughts were correct. If he were to look, she would turn around to find him blushing a deep shade of red that spread from his neck to his cheeks, and his eyes fully blown. So, with all of his strength and by the force of God, he kept his eyes firmly on the wall. It never looked so dull until right now.

As she slowly came back to a standing position, she turned over her shoulder to see Spencer demonstrating the most self control she’s ever seen. A proud smirk spread across her face, and she finally stalked her way over to the bed slowly.

Spencer felt his palms start to get sweaty from nerves, excitement, arousal and desperation as her body came closer to his direct line of sight. His breathing had become heavy again, and his cock twitched painfully.

When Spencer had his gun drawn on unsubs, he got tunnel vision, but right now when he needed it, that ability seemed to disappear into thin air.

What a cruel magic trick.

Once she was settled with her back resting against the headboard did she speak.

“You can look now, baby boy.” The sight in front of him almost made him come undone right then and there.

Almost made him.

She was sitting up, her arms on either side of her body, her knees were bent, and her legs were wide open. Spencer could see the wet patch from her gathering arousal on her panties, and involuntarily licked his lips.

“Your punishment is the following,” she started as she slowly hooked her fingers under the waistband of her panties. Lifting her hips to start to shimmy them down her legs, she continued, “You’re going to sit there real pretty for me, and you’re going to watch me pleasure myself. You’re not going to look away, close your eyes and most definitely you are not going to touch yourself. Am I making myself clear?”

He was not going to make that mistake again, so instead of nodding he immediately replied with, “Yes ma’am.”

She balled her discarded panties in her hand, and sat up from the incriminating position. As she shimmied her way over to Spencer on her knees, he gulped in anticipation.

“Open up, baby boy.” If she called him that, he would do anything she ever asked him to. 

Spencer opened his mouth and slightly stuck his tongue out with a small idea of what was going to come next.

Even with the knowledge of her next move, when the lace of her panties hit his tongue, he couldn’t stop the groan that left him at the contact.

“Don’t wanna hear from you no matter how pretty those sounds are,” she seduced as she stroked his cheek.

Once he was now settled with the makeshift gag and clouded mind, she returned to her compromising position, her pussy on full display for Spencer’s ogling.

She started by softly grasping one of her breasts over the thin lace bra. Her head rolled back at the new sensation, a breathy sigh leaving her parted lips. She kneaded the flesh before added her other hand, squeezing both before pushing them together.

Spencer could only watch in awe as she played with herself the way he wish he could right now. The small whimpers leaving his body were muffled thanks to the gag, and she couldn’t hear them over her own heavy breathing.

When she reached her hands behind her back, and unclasped the bra, Spencer had to forcefully sit on his hands to stop himself from touching either one of them.

She was a goddess on full display, her body had to have been sculpted by the Gods above because no one had the right to be so perfect.

Nobody but her.

The same way she had done to Spencer in what felt like centuries ago, she ran her nails down her torso, only this time she didn’t stop. Her fingers slowly met her aching core, and a moan slipped from her lips at the contact.

She kept her touch featherlight, just enough to gather her arousal on her fingertips. She brought her hand back up to her clit and added more pressure as she circled it slowly.

The soft moans leaving her body were enough for Spencer, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the sight in front of him even if he was allowed to. Her pussy was glistening under the soft light from the bedside lamp, her hair was messily sprawled out around her like a halo, and her body had started to get a light sheen of sweat. 

After another minute of teasing her clit, she finally stuck two fingers in her core, her back arching off the bed and letting out the loudest, filthiest moan yet as she did.

“Fuck, baby. It feels so good.” She looked to Spencer to gage his reaction, and found him bright red and hyper focused on where her fingers met her pussy.

Satisfied, she started to slowly pump her fingers in and out of her, curling them to hit her sweet spot each time. Her stomach started to tighten, her impending orgasm arriving faster than usual.

Spencer was a whiny, horny mess on the other side of the bed. He was so painfully hard, and he was sure if he looked, there would be a spot on his boxers from his pre-cum.

Her fingers starting to pump faster, and her other hand gave her breast one last squeeze before traveling down to meet her clit. She rubbed harsh circles in time with her fingers and threw her head back in pleasure as she did so.

“Oh god, I’m gonna- fuck I’m gonna come,” she breathily called out. Her moans getting louder by the second, the coil in her stomach finally snapped.

“Spencer! Oh god!” She screamed as her back arched off the bed, and she came around her fingers. Her finger rubbing circles on her clit started to slow down as her loud moaning turned to heavy breathing.

Spencer’s eyes were almost black as he stared down at her. When she came undone, it was the most beautiful thing in the world to him.

Once her muscles stopped spasming, she relaxed her body and finally looked back at Spencer.

“You did so well, baby boy.” The praise made Spencer’s knees even more weak. Slowly, she crawled her way over to him and removed the panties from his mouth. He tried his best to control his breathing, but each exhale came out jagged and broken.

“Can I touch you now?” He asked timidly and this only made her smile.

“Yes, baby boy. You can to-” She didn’t get to finish her sentence because the second the word yes left her mouth, Spencer’s lips were on hers.

The kiss was sloppy and uncalculated, but there was so much passion and love behind every movement. When she grasped the waistband of his slacks and pulled his clothed body against her naked one, Spencer let out a gasp that allowed her to stick her tongue in his mouth. 

She explored every inch of his mouth with hers and he couldn’t get enough. The kiss was intoxicating, pulling him deeper into her trance.

When she pulled away, biting his bottom lip and pulling it back slightly with her, Spencer let out a whine.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said as she pushed his unbuttoned shirt down his arms. Once that was off, she worked on his belt, pulling it out of the loops and throwing it to the floor impatiently.

Once his pants were unbuttoned, she wasted no time reaching in and grasping his cock.

Spencer let out a pornographic moan at the sensation, throwing his head back and closing his eyes.

“What do you want, baby boy,” she asked as she continued her ministrations, slowly pumping her hand up and down. Panting now, Spencer did his best to answer.

“Y-you.. Y/N. I want you,” Spencer whined as he started to pat her arm that was in his pants. He looked back down at her with so much desperation and lust, there was no almost this time.

She gave in.

“Only because you’ve been such a good boy for me.” The praise caused Spencer to whimper, and she finally pulled his trousers and boxers down. His cock sprang free, and hit his stomach proudly. The tip was beet red and pre-cum was slowly dripping down the side. It looked painfully delicious.

“Lay down on you back, baby.” Spencer did as told, his head hitting the pillows and he fisted the sheets.

She climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. When she grabbed the base of his cock, Spencer winced and his hands shot up to grasp her hips. She didn’t stop him this time. She ran his tip through her folds teasing him, the evidence of her previous orgasm spreading around it.

Slowly, she sank down, both of them throwing their heads back and moaning at the sensation. She didn’t stop until she was at the hilt, him fully sheathed in her. She took a minute to adjust before lifting her hips excruciatingly slow.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” When all that was left was the tip inside her, she slammed her hips back down. Spencer groaned, his grip on her hips tightening. 

Her slow pace continued, teasing him just enough to get him to pat her hips again like he did earlier.

“Please Y/N, please faster.” How could she say no to that tone of voice?

She started to move her hips with feverish intent, both of their stomachs tightening as they slowly ran towards the edge together.

Spencer didn’t know where to look. He could watch the way his cock disappeared into her tight cunt, or the way her breasts bounced in his face in time with her hips, or her blissed out face, mouth wide open and eyes hooded.

All of it brought him closer and closer to the edge.

“F-fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna.. I’m gonna...”

“Me too, baby. Come for me.” With her permission, his hips thrust up to meet hers as he shoots his cum deep in her. The sensation was the final push, and she followed immediately after, milking him of everything he could give.

She collapsed on his sweaty chest, both of them heavy panting, but neither willing to move.

“I love you so much.” She said it so simply, but still it made Spencer’s heart flutter. They’ve said it so many times, but every time he still got giddy.

“I love you too,” he said and kissed the top of her head. They could’ve fallen asleep just like that, because it didn’t matter how sticky with sweat their body was, or the very compromising position they were still in.

They were in each other’s arms, and that was everything for both of them.

____

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[kopikokun]

Request 21: Haechan + “How did we get here?” (58) + “Are you high?’ (93) + “Why are you naked?” (109)

pairing; haechan x reader

genre; fluff, suggestive, childhood friends to lovers au

warnings; mentions of unprotected sex

The first thing that jolts you awake isn’t the numbing cold prickling your skin, nor is it the familiar sensation of having the duvet tugged away from your sound asleep body, no, it’s the abrupt animalistic snore in your ear.

You scramble into a sitting position, back resting against the headboard and legs tucked. Your heart lurches in your chest and you place your fist to it like that would do anything to calm its hammering. This paralysing fear only worsens the headache you’re currently experiencing. Cold sweat runs down your back as you face the person—or entity—that had just created that horrid sound.

With the strands of his soft hair falling into his eyes and his smooth golden skin illuminated by the fresh morning sunlight pouring through the blinds, Donghyuck looks beautiful, no, ethereal, nestled away beneath the covers. Your cheeks begin to grow warm. It’s unfair really, how nice he looks, peacefully asleep (besides the trail of spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth, that is). You can’t believe a sound that unholy came from someone who looks like that.

Your eyes dart warily across the interior of the room. Muted grey walls surround you, pictures of varying sizes hanging precariously from nails. A shelf lines the wall to your right, the first and second shelf packed with books of different kinds. Most of them, you recognise, are ones you have too. The college listed them as mandatory and you remember grumbling to Donghyuck about the ridiculous cost of them. On the right of the bookshelf sits a table, crowded with notebooks and eraser shavings. A laptop is half open on the table and there’s a single sticker beside the mouse pad. A familiar photo of you and Donghyuck from high school rests against the wall and past you smiles at you. You’ve been here before. Even though Hyuck just moved in with his best friend Mark last week, you’d been here twice, not including now. Since you’ve known Donghyuck, which was in like kindergarten, his room had somewhat become yours and vice-versa. You turn to face your childhood friend beside you.

Your heart rate begins to accelerate. Why are you in the same bed as Donghyuck? And where the fuck are his clothes?

You vigorously shake him awake, unable to hide your fret. “Hyuck!” He mumbles something in his sleep. “Hyuck! Wake up!”

Donghyuck groans, eyes squinted as they’re immediately greeted by the blinding sunlight flooding the room. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand, propping himself up with an elbow.

His eyelids are still droopy and you frown. “Are you high?” Some stoner friend of Hyuck’s had come over last night and you wouldn’t be surprised if Donghyuck had taken a hit.

He shakes his head slowly, hair sticking out in all possible directions. “No, I’m just- I think I'm just hungover.” You visibly notice the way the early morning grogginess leaves him and is replaced with a feeling of bewilderment. “Why are you in my bed?” His head swivels to scan the room, face contorted into one of confusion. “How did we get here?”

You disregard his concerns, because both of you being half-naked is far more concerning. You decide to leave that mystery for later. “Hyuck, why are you naked?”

As if he’s just realised the fact, Donghyuck shields his bare chest from your eyes with his arms. “I’m not completely naked! I’ve, uhh,” he lifts the covers, peeking beneath them, “I have some shorts on.” You roll your eyes. That doesn’t help in the slightest. Donghyuck scoffs at your reaction.

The two of you stare at each other in silence, trying to process what’s going on and what on Earth happened yesterday. All you can recall from last night is showing up to Donghyuck’s party, the both of you immediately scurrying to the alcohol and downing anything you could get your hands on. Everything after that has now become one of Mother Nature’s greatest mysteries.

You try to come up with a logical explanation with all the evidence presented to you. You’re in bed in only an oversized shirt and your underwear with Hyuck, and he’s half-naked. You two had gotten absolutely thrashed last night and had no semblance of an idea as to what had happened. Did you two… No, you hadn’t… But, maybe you two—

“Did we have sex last night?”

You flush a deep red. You didn’t expect Donghyuck to bring it up so casually. You bite the flesh of your inner cheek. “I don’t remember. In fact, I don’t remember anything that happened last night.”

Donghyuck huffs. He flops back onto the bed, clasping his hands atop his toned stomach. You haven’t seen him so… exposed before. The last time you had was probably five years ago at your ex-boyfriend Jeno’s pool party. He’s definitely more well-built now, an ab-line beginning to reveal itself. Donghyuck’s cheeks seem to be adorning an adorable pink tint too. “Me neither.”

Seeing his nonchalance, your shoulders loosen considerably. You let your head fall back onto the headboard, stretching out your bare legs. The movement catches Donghyuck’s eye, but he swiftly averts his gaze, clearing his throat. “So, I guess we did.”

“Oh.” Donghyuck nods curtly. “Cool.”

“Yeah,” you pick at your nails, “cool.”

Donghyuck glances to the bedside drawer and then to the rubbish bin. “Did we, uhm, did we at least use protection?”

“Well, shit, I hope we did,” you fiddle with the edges of Hyuck’s covers, “I mean I really like you but I wouldn’t let you raw me the first time we have sex.” You can feel his intent stare, his eyes boring into you, making your skin crawl with unease. “But I’m on the pill, so I should be fine.” Hyuck still hasn’t let up, probably because his childhood friend of fifteen hears just confessed to him. “Follow me to the store to get a morning-after pill, okay?”

Donghyuck blinks. Once. Twice. “Oh, yeah, totally.” You’re praying he doesn’t bring up what you just said.

“You like me?”

Damn.

“Well, yeah.” You tack your gaze onto the ground.

Donghyuck, being the cheeky little bastard he is, shoves his face in your line of sight. He grins, planting both of his palms on your cheeks, forcing you to face him. “Say it again.”

Your face grows crimson. You feign ignorance, averting eye-contact. “Say what again?”

“Don’t act dumb,” Hyuck says, smiling coyly. “Say it again and look at me while you do.”

Your stomach twists, a sudden wave of bashfulness crashing into you. “Hyuck…”

His grin grows wider, a hint of amusement present. “Come on, baby. I won’t ask you again.”

Your face is a deathly shade of red now and the tips of your ears are burning. “I like you.”

Despite the fact that you are experiencing such a nerve wracking ordeal, the half-naked boy before you laughs. He’s delighted. “Say it again.” At your pout he giggles. “Please?”

“I like you. I like you. I like you. I like you, Lee Donghyuck.” You furrow your brows. “Happy now?”

Donghyuck has to stop himself from kissing you right there and then. “Very.”

“Now say it back.”

Instead, he satisfies his urge by pecking your forehead. “I like you too.”

“What the fuck are you guys doing?”

Both you and Donghyuck’s gazes immediately snap towards the door where a disgruntled Mark is leaning against the frame. Mark’s usually all bright smiles but right now, he looks disgruntled. He’s probably crazy hungover.

“I’ve only brought you in here half-an-hour ago Hyuck, and you can’t even keep it in your pants for that long?”

Donghyuck tilts his head in obvious befuddlement. “What do you mean half-an-hour ago?”

Mark scoffs. “I carried you in here? Half-an-hour ago? Because you were passed out on the floor? And I’m a super nice best friend?”

“So, I’ve only been in here for half-an-hour?”

Mark groans. “Are you still drunk? Yeah, I just said.”

“But why are we half-naked?

“You don’t remember?” Mark runs a hair through his disheveled hair, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose. “While we were cleaning up, you spilled a drink on yourself and puked on her, dude. Man, you must’ve been really drunk.”

“So then me and—”

“Anyway, can you guys keep it down? I’m trying to facetime my girlfriend.”

Donghyuck snorts. “Looking like that? You look like shit.”

Mark scowls. “Fuck off, asshole. I should’ve just left you on the floor, prick.”

As he storms away, Mark mutters a string of curses under his breath. You and Donghyuck sit in silence again, letting all that information which was unceremoniously relayed to you sink in.

“So, we didn’t fuck?”

“I guess not.”

Hyuck smiles slyly. “You want to right now?”

You reply by whacking him square in the face with a pillow as his laughter rings in your ears and Mark yells at you two to shut up.

#toaster requests #nct fluff #nct smut #haechan fluff #haechan smut #nct dream #nct #nct haechan #haechan nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct drabbles #haechan drabbles #donghyuck #lee donghyuck #nct x reader #haechan x reader #nct oneshots #nct reactions #nct timestamps #nct scenarios #nct imagines #haechan reactions #haechan oneshots #haechan timestamps #haechna scenarios #haechan imagines #nct fanfic #haechan fanfic

[strawberryspence]

Vienna

Angst | Spencer Reid x FEM! BAU! Female

Summary: Spencer meets the love of his life while Reader continues to the search for her love for life.

Word Count: 2,1k.

Warnings: angst, no happy ending, reference to having sex, lots of sentimental stuff, rossi has a part in this he was the only old OLD member

Writer’s Note: Hello! I am sad, so this happened... I wanted to clear up that I used the song Vienna in this, tho the meaning of the song is more of a “slow down, you have a whole life ahead of you.” I took the song and made it the direct opposite which for me is “find yourself and never stop until you find it. vienna (your destined destination) waits for you.” I didn’t edit this and I wrote it in one sitting so I am sorry for the mistakes. This is basically me venting out my emotions and I am not entirely sure if this made sense.

Spencer knew that you would change his life the moment you stepped foot in the BAU conference room.

You were a new agent with a fiery passion for the job. You were a Psychology Professor before quitting and took up Criminology and after that you ended up in the BAU. You were eager to learn, always on the go and was always energetic to do any job Hotch gives you. You had a heart of gold and would do absolutely anything for anyone in the team and Spencer was in no doubt completely in love with you.

It took Spencer a year and a month to finally ask you out. By this time, you were already close. It wasn’t hard to be friends with you, you radiate warmth and brightness and you were always so kind to everyone. He honestly felt embarrassed and weak. You were this amazing, strong person but Spencer... he was only Spencer.

“W-would you like to get dinner? Or... L-like coffee?” Spencer fidgets with his fingers, staring at his stained converse as it lines up to your black ankle boots. The contrast was jarring, it shows the two opposite spectrums of your personalities. When he looks up, your face was hard to read and it makes his heart beat harder against his chest.

“Like... a date?” Spencer watches as you chew on your inner cheek, something you do when you’re nervous or anxious.

“Yes... But if you don’t want to it’s okay! You can forget what I sai—“ Spencer raises his hand as a sign of goodbye, as the other grips his satchel. He turns halfway before you hold his catch his arms, stopping him from leaving.

“No! I want dinner! I mean, coffee! Whatever it is!” He looks back at you, a smile now forming in your face, and no matter how many times Spencer have seen it, it still catches he’s breathe.

“Really?” A grin starts forming in his face as he watches a shade of pink color your cheeks, “Yes. Tell me when and where. I’ll be there.”

The date was perfect. Spencer picks you up with a bouquet of daisies in his hands. You pick one of the daisies, clipping it in your hair for the rest of the night making it hard for Spencer to look away from you for the rest of the night. He reserved a table for two in a small, quaint cafe. Even with the nerves Spencer had, the date went smoothly. You talked, he talked and it was just like any other day but this time it was a date.

That date leads to another one, and another one, and another one, until you both finally made it clear that you two were dating.

It leads to numerous adventures.

To museums where Spencer becomes your own tour guide, where he teaches you everything he can teach you, where he watches you become one of the beautiful art pieces and where he realizes that he can take something so beautiful and surreal home.

To libraries where Spencer opens a book, any genre, and reads it you as you both take a journey to another world together, where you watch him read books that he probably already have memorized in the back of his head and where you realized that the world is so much bigger than you thought. More than anything it makes you itch for that world.

To movie nights which more often than so ends up with you on his lap, making out like you were both craving for something only the other can give. If it does, you both end up in bed, tangled in each other as both of you catch your breathe as you make love to one another. If it doesn’t, you both watch a movie chosen by the other and just sit in comfortable silence, cuddled into each others warm body.

To coffee shops where you both try as many different kinds of pastries, making a list of which one has the best pastries. The little corner shop down the street near the library is where Spencer learns that you liked croissants but only if they had chocolate in them. In the cafe down on 5th near the pet store, you learned that Spencer liked his blueberry muffin with cream cheese. The expensive, posh coffee shop in the high end street is where you were both kicked out for laughing way too much when you both realize that a muffin costs ten dollars each.

It leads to numerous sleepovers on Spencer’s double bed. Waking up to a new day with you was the best thing in the morning. Waking up tangled with your limbs all around him, waking up to you making him his favorite coffee and pancakes in bed, waking up to your naked body pressed unto him as you dream of him some place else.

It leads to home cooked dinners with silly dance numbers in the middle, warm hugs after hard cases and silent whispers of It’s okay’s, picnics in the park with packed sandwiches and it leads to five hundred, eighty one, forever treasured I love you’s.

One date leads you to numerous adventures and dates with Spencer.

But it was also a year and a month into the relationship when Emily video calls you both for a job offer in Interpol. She says, it would be a breathe of fresh air for the both of you. A new adventure. Together.

Spencer was set in his ways. Virginia was the closest thing he’ll ever have to a home and that’s because of the BAU. They were family. Penelope and JJ are the sisters he never had. Will, Henry and Michael was his extended family. Derek is his best friend and he loved being near him and Hank. Hotch and Rossi was the closest thing he’ll get to some kind of a father figure and he didn’t want to lose that in his life. He has long set his roots in this place, his home and he immediately shakes his head and declines.

He looks over you when the silence was to deafening to ignore and it doesn’t take a profiler to see the hesitation in your face. There was a spark in your eyes, the same one he saw when you first came to the BAU, the spark of excitement. You look at him and you see the way his eyes shines with sadness as he realizes that this was what you wanted. You shake your head at Emily and declines.

Emily smiles as she says her goodbye before reassuring both of you that there will always be a position open for the both of you in her team if ever anyone changes their mind.

That one video call leads to exactly six fights about the job opportunity. Spencer knew that you wanted to go and the selfish part of him wanted to hold unto you. So he did, he held, and he held, and he held until he couldn’t anymore.

Spencer stays late at the BAU one night. The two of you haven’t been the same since the job offer. You have left earlier to go home as he stares at the place he has called his home. Can he leave this? Was his love for you enough to leave everything he has known half his life?

“What’s keeping you here?” Spencer snaps out of the thought, looking up from his paper work to Rossi leaning over the railing right across his office.

“Nothing.” He looks back down, but he can see Rossi giving him a soft smile, “News flies fast around here.”

Spencer snaps back his head, “What?” Rossi nods, “We all know.” He continues to chew on his lip.

“I don’t know what to do.” Rossi walks down the stairs, walking closer to Spencer, “You remember Y/N’s first few weeks?” Spencer nods, the memory of your first week still vivid in his mind.

“You remember how before she was in the BAU she was a psychology professor? When she came on her first day,” Rossi smiles, reminiscing as he continues, “Remember how eager she was to do everything? There was this spark in her eyes and she was just passionate about the job and to learn?” Spencer nods again.

“Kid, in my life, I have met two kinds of people. The Mover and The Homebody. The Mover is the one who moves, they never get enough of the high that life can give, they go around looking for more adventures to learn and to help them grow,” Rossi looks down at him, a sad smile on his face, “Then there is the Homebody. Its not a bad thing to stay in one place. They are the ones who set roots in one place and grows in that place, they get comfortable and make that place in their life their home.”

“Are you saying I am a homebody? And Y/N is a mover?” Rossi forces a smile, giving his shoulder a pat.

“If you’re so smart then tell me, why are you still so afraid.” Rossi sings before giving him one last smile as he turns his back, not giving Spencer the chance to ask what he meant.

Spencer later learns from Penelope that it was a song written by Billy Joel. He asks Penelope if he can hear it by himself in her bat cave and she immediately agrees, leaving him alone with a song someone wrote in 1977 that perfectly fits and embodies you. As the final beats hit his ears, Spencer lets go of you.

The next twenty one days comes in a swift. Spencer stands in the airport as the team says their teary goodbyes to you. The team leaves to give the two of you space and privacy to say your goodbye.

“Spencer... I am sorry.” Spencer gives a smile. It wasn’t fake, there was no bad blood. He wanted to let you go, to go find the best version of yourself.

“This is what you need in your life to grow. I am happy for you.” Your eyes sparkle in tears as your heart softens.

“I’ll be back, if you are still in the same place as we are today, can we pick up were we left?” Spencer nods, as he opens his satchel and reaches in for a box.

You open it and inside is the same daisy you pinned in your hair on your first date, but it was dried and framed. You look up at him with questions in your eyes, “I stole it from you after our first date. I kept it for future purposes but it’s more suiting to give it to you right now.”

“Last call for passengers of flight 582 bound for London. Again, last call for passengers of flight 582 bound for London.” You both look at each other as the announcement rings through your ears

“I love you.” You whisper. Spencer gathers up all the courage he has and pulls you into one last kiss. His hands stays on the curve of your neck as he pulls you closer to him and as you snake your arms around his arms.

Spencer kisses you with fervour and fear. This was the last he’ll kiss you and if he had to tattoo it in the back of his mind he will. He will remember the distinct taste of your peach lip balm, the way your lips moves against him and how your hand presses hard on his back to pull him closer. Spencer pulls away when a voice in his head screams at him to not let you go. He had to let you go now before he change his mind, screams and beg you to stay with him. His heart breaks a little more as he sees tears flowing down your cheeks.

You pull him into one last hug and it sinks in, his holding you for the last time. He tries to memorize how your hands wrap around his neck and how you perfectly fit between his arms. Your body vibrates as you sob against him.

You pull away from him with tear stained cheeks and barely catching your breathe, you smile through it as you wave at him, “Goodbye Spencer.” You sobbed as you start backing away from him. You see him clench his hand as tears start filling his eyes.

“I can’t wait to meet who you’re going to be. Good luck, Y/N.” Spencer raises his hand to wave at you as the inches between the two of you grow bigger.

“Thank you. I love you.” You bid him goodbye before turning your back on him and running to your gate number. Spencer smiles through his tears as you give your ticket to the airport staff. You look back at Spencer and give him one last smile before boarding the airplane.

“Vienna waits for you, my love.”

-

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[m88n]

[8.02 pm] - when mark lee gets angered by your cheating boyfriend

angst, smut, fluff

►listen to it’s you - zayn, so beautiful - dpr ian

“He did.. what?”

You look off to the side, almost guiltily.

“Yeah… I ended up finding out that, he really did sleep with Vanessa.” You say, looking down at your hands, restlessly fiddling on your lap.

Mark rakes his hair in bewilderment, proceeding to rub his face with one hand, seemingly trying really hard to digest the information he’s been presented with.

“y/n… You mean to tell me, you gave him all those chances when you obviously shouldn’t, only for him to run off with some girl?” He asks you bluntly.

“Mark….” You simply say, feeling hurt by his insensitivity.

He palms his face for a moment once more, then sits down in front of you on the sofa, looking straight at you with his clear eyes.

“..I’m sorry, y/n. It’s just frustrating to see you deal with him all the time,”

“Well, I’m sorry Mark, if I tire you by talking about my problems all the time, I thought you told me I could rely on you like this,” You say with a quivering voice, unable to hide your disappointment with the way he’s dealing with your vulnerability.

“You could, y/n—”

“Then why be that blunt with me when you know I obviously need comfort?!” You ask, raising your voice, tears starting to brim in the corners of your eyes.

He pauses to take in the look of your face.

“Because I can’t keep on seeing you like this, y/n!” He exclaims.

You look at him taken aback and puzzled, not entirely understanding what he means.

“I hate seeing the girl I like keep getting hurt by some assbag, while I sit here and do nothing about it, okay?!” He finishes.

You look at him, wide eyed, completely stunned by his response.

“M-Mark, I…”

He quickly moves to sit right next to you, and you could see the silent burn behind his dark irises.

“Do you know how it feels like, to have someone you cherish so much, crying about someone who treats them like shit?” He asks in a low voice.

“Mark, I’m-I’m sorry, I di—”

He stops you completely in your tracks by firmly taking your shoulders and pressing a warm, haste kiss on your lips. After you feel the touch of his lips leave yours, his gaze lingers on your eyes, his clear eyes weighted by what seems like agony, then looks down as he still keeps his grip gentle on your shoulders.

“I can’t handle seeing you cry, and apologize, for someone that keeps on hurting you, I can’t do it, y/n,”

You feel his hands ever so slightly quiver on your shoulders. You examine the way his black locks cast shadows over his paled face, his cheeks dusted light pink. Then your gaze flits towards his lips—he’s biting his lip.

After a moment of silence, Mark shuts his eyes, fully realizing what he just did.

“I’m sorry I did that, y/n, I was just feeling so much—”

You stop him from finishing his sentence by planting one gentle kiss on his forehead, then looking at his eyes with nothing but tenderness.

“It’s okay, Mark.” You say gently, eyes fixed on Mark’s.

“B-but—” Mark stops himself, feeling your thumb graze across his lower lip. His face grows warmer, face flushing a shade of vibrant pink at your featherlight touch.

You smile at him, before leaning over towards him with your eyes fluttered close, gradually closing the gap between your faces, until your lips finally touch. The kiss feels soft, almost sacred, as you two finally cross the line that you’ve been walking around for the longest time. Mark sighs into the kiss as his grip on your shoulders slide down to your arms, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, finally softly gripping his hair to nudge him even closer to you. His supple lips melt onto yours, making its home in the comfort of your touches. His hands slide down towards your waist as he positions himself in between your legs, gently pushing you against the arm of the sofa. As the heat of the kiss slowly makes itself known through soft moans and utter impatience in getting lost in each other, Mark suddenly pulls back from the kiss, only for you to hold him back with your firm grip behind his neck.

“Hold up, y/n, stop,” Mark tries to say in between kisses.

“What, why?” You respond breathlessly, as neither of you tries to stop kissing each other despite Mark’s futile attempt to.

“Is this okay...? I mean,” He says, before you interrupt him with a peck.

“Don’t you want this..?” You ask him with half-lidded eyes. Mark’s eyes darts towards your lips for a moment, before shutting his eyes and shaking his head a little.

“I mean, of course I do, but, what about him?” Mark says, touching your hands behind his neck, and you finally cease trying to kiss each other.

You sigh at his question, leaving it hanging in the air. He looks at you with apparent concern, pupils wavering, however visibly restraining himself from forcing an answer out of you.

“…I’m sorry it took me ages, Mark…” You start, while looking down at your lap. Mark looks at you questioningly.

“Him sleeping with Vanessa obviously hurt me, given that I’ve spent…. Or maybe wasted, 2, almost 3 years with that guy, but it really served as the wake-up call I needed.” You continued, gently pulling your hands away from Mark and fiddling with your nails with your hands on your lap. “A-And I guess, I was just really confused, like I’m still learning all about this relationship stuff and how it works for me or whatever…”

Mark looks at you with raised brows, obviously waiting for you to continue.

“When I discovered he did that… I realized that I got angry not because I love him, I don’t even think I do anymore, I realized—I think I got angry because I let this stuff happen to me for far too long.…” You try to explain.

Mark’s gaze softens upon you, his hand slowly reaching towards the hair framing your face, before he stops himself.

“What I do know, is when you said you.. like me,” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up, “I just--just feel butterflies.. I don’t know, I’ve always loved being around you, I guess this kind of pure affection is just so.… Foreign to me.” You finish, finally braving yourself to look up to his face despite the feeling of bashfulness taking over your entire body.

Mark looks down at you with an unreadable expression, though you could tell that his gaze is nothing but gentle. He slowly takes both of his hands and cups your face with them delicately, looking at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

“It’s everything you deserve and more, y/n.”

He kisses you with everything he has, caging your body with his hands firmly propped on the arm of the sofa. The kiss he gives you is gentle, yet forceful enough to leave you breathless. He takes no time in deepening the kiss as his tongue enters your mouth, taking one of his hands onto your jaw, running his fingers through your hair, before ever so slightly grasping onto your strands. You could feel him desperately trying to hold onto this moment, afraid that you might slip through his fingers anytime soon.

“Mark—” You try to speak in between his kisses.

He stops, panting lightly as he looks at you with his blown-out pupils and swollen lips. You gently take his face with your hands, cupping it and locking eyes with him.

“Baby, I’m not going anywhere.” You say, almost in a whisper.

A soft sigh leaves his lips, pupils quivering before seemingly bracing himself for the next thing he is about to say.

“Are you sure about that?”

You look down, before bringing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Why would I leave something that’s so good for me?”

Mark looks at you, seemingly debating your answer for a moment. He settles on placing his lips on your neck instead, working his way down your chest, his hot, wet kisses leaving fiery trails in its wake. You take the back of his head, gently pulling on his hair, sighing onto his touches. He brings one hand to your shoulders, slowly pulling down the straps of your dress, revealing your bare chest. He continues planting kisses down to your nipples, taking the sensitive bud with his soft lips and tongue, soft moans passing through your lips.

“You’re so beautiful, baby, I want you to be all mine.” He murmurs against your chest, still shallowly sucking on the skin, small bruises starting to bloom across your decolletage.

“….I’m all yours now, Mark.” You finally say affectionately, in between soft breaths.

He looks at you for a second, before capturing your lips in a heated kiss, devouring your lips and tongue, as he continues to fondle your breast with one hand. He slides his hand below your hips to lift you up in a princess carry, which takes you by complete surprise, as he really doesn’t seem like the most built type.

He walks you to his bedroom with ease, swiftly closing the door to his bedroom with one leg, then gently dropping your body onto the center of his queen-sized bed. He proceeds to take off his dark grey t-shirt, revealing his lean yet toned musculature, you note, especially throughout his biceps and torso area. You can’t stop yourself from staring at Mark Lee completely topless in front of you, his body looking much more toned than you’d imagine. He’s always worn some of his vast assortment of hoodies when he hangs out with you, and you’ve never paid too much attention to him, so this is definitely a surprise to you, albeit a pleasant one.

“You wanna show me just how much?”

“What?” His question snaps you out of your daze.

“You wanna show me just how much of you are mine now?” He drawls, and you turn to take a good look at his eyes, still distinctly clear as it’s always been, however now visibly darkened in a hungered gaze as he takes in the sight of you on his bed, like a predator carefully examining its prey.

You’re completely unfamiliar with this more dominant side of Mark, and instead of provoking you to fight back, it feels like a call that is beckoning for you to submit to. You fumble with your answer for a moment, and you see Mark trying to fight off a smirk, while he slowly makes his way closer to you on the bed. Your heart is beating erratically fast from the distance closing in, despite being all over him just moments ago. He looks at you, again, with that indecipherable gaze, as he takes your cheek with the light touch of his hand, and you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear the sound of your thumping heartbeat. Since when did Mark have this kind of side?

“Since you said I’d be that good for you,” He starts in a low voice, almost a whisper.

He slowly puts his lips closer to your ear, breath fanning your sensitive spot. The heat coming off of his body and his warm breath sending you into an intoxicating trance, your mind slowly slipping off of its senses, core throbbing from the sensory overload. Before you knew it, he closes in even further with his presence, completely shrouding you with his aura as he slips his fingers in between yours on the surface of the mattress.

“You wanna show me just how good you could be for me?”

He whispers onto your ear, not forgetting to leave a small peck on the spot under your ear, sending shivers down your spine. He locks eyes with you, jet black eyes attempting to hide the last bits of his burning desire from bursting out of its feeble confines. He is still the same guy. He’s Mark. Something else just awakened this part of him. You get chills thinking that something is really none other than you.

You almost forget to respond, so you nod timidly, eyes still maintaining its gaze upon Mark’s. He smiles with heavy lidded eyes full of pure ardor. You almost couldn’t believe that this is the same cute boy with innocent eyes that you’ve grown really close to—or at least you thought so. You suddenly feel his thumb graze your lips, as you maintain your gazes towards each other. As if instinctual, you take his thumb into your mouth in a light suck, and he smiles a little wider, looking down at your utter submission to his cues.

“Good girl.”

He suddenly places both his hands on your waist, lifting you up effortlessly, earning an abrupt yelp from you. He places you right on his lap, on top of his long legs extended across the large mattress. You gingerly put your arms around his neck in order to anchor yourself, before realizing that your very own throbbing, slickened core is rubbing against a certain hardened bulge—Mark’s hardened bulge, through his sweatpants.

“..I can feel you on me, baby.” He says in a low voice, almost growling.

Your face heats up from the sound of his throaty groan, as well as the sheer hardness of his cock, and the implication that he might’ve felt your wetness through your pants. It takes you by surprise when Mark suddenly jerks his hips against yours, causing you to moan loudly from the friction you’ve been needing. You could feel him tightening his grip on your waist, as you follow suit with your grip on his back to steady yourself on his lap. Lost in a trance from the pleasure you’ve been permitted to feel, you take no time in grinding your hips against Mark’s, head thrown back.

“Fuck, yeah, baby, keep doing that,” He breathes on your neck. “Shit, already so wet for me,”

You keep grinding on his hardness, whimpering against Mark’s bare shoulder, both from the pleasure and also from desperation in craving for his actual girth.

“M-Mark, please…” You plead.

“..Please what, baby?” He asks you in between broken breaths.

“I want it s-so bad,…” You continue, still rocking your hips against Mark’s, fully clothed from the waist down.

“You need to say it for me, baby, ask for it from me,” He says, lightly grabbing your chin with one hand, forcing you to look straight into his eyes.

Tears starts to brim on the edges of your eyes from the utter shame and neediness you’re displaying, but you honestly couldn’t care less at this point.

“..I need you to fuck me, Mark, please,” You whine.

With that, he takes no time in reaching for his waistband and freeing his erection from the restraints of his sweatpants. He brings his hands to the article of clothing still limply hanging off of your body, gathers it, and finally takes your dress off of you, tossing it in the general direction of the floor. As he does so, you take off your panties and throw it in the same direction, leaving you completely naked for him.

“Fuck, look at you, so beautiful like this,” He mutters to himself, bringing his hands to cup your breasts, playing with your nipples, getting you to moan needily from his touches.

“Wanna be a good girl for me?” He breathes out, keeping his grip loose on your waist. You take this as a signal to do it yourself, so you do what you need to. You lift your body from his thigh, placing your hands firmly on Mark’s back, before taking his cock into you.

You let out a guttural moan, feeling the unexpected length and girth of Mark’s cock, as you haven’t been able to clearly see due to the darkness of his bedroom. You grip his back even tighter as you try to fully sheathe his dick into you, hip stuttering, feeling the mixture between pain and pleasure from having you been broken into by his cock.

“F-fuck, baby, feel so tight, so good around me,” He says with gritted teeth, hands tightening around your waist. “Sucking me in so much, fuck,”

You whimper as you try to move yourself against his hardness, proving it to be a harder task than expected as you might be a little tight for him. After settling into his size, you begin to gain a momentum as you continue to bounce on his cock, your high-pitched moans bouncing off of the walls with every thrust. Mark moves his hands to your ass, and attaches his lips on yours hungrily, kissing you sloppily as you continue to ride him, your cries diminishing into throaty groans.

“F-fuck, so fucking big,” You moan in between breaths. “You make me feel so, so good,”

The bedroom is filled with sounds of slapping skins, wet kisses, grunts, pants, and moans, as both of you eagerly tries to reach your highs. Mark attaches his lips on your neck, sucking at one spot without any care for leaving a mark.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for so fucking long,” He groans against your neck.

You throw your head back from his cock hitting your g-spot as you have been trying to grind deeper down on him, Mark working to meet you with his thrusts, filling you exceptionally deep with his cock, causing each thrust to knock the air out of your lungs.

“F-fuck, now I’m all yours, Mark,” You stutter. “We can do this all day, all night, whenever you n-need,”

Mark groans at your remark, before he lifts you and pushes you against the surface of the mattress, fucking into you quickly and deeply, leaving you breathless and gasping his name like a mantra, your toes curling and eyes rolling back from pleasure. Your mind loses itself as you feel Mark’s breathy groans on your ear and his cock reaching your absolute depths, causing your core to tighten, approaching its climax.

“Cum for me, baby,” He mutters against your ear as he continues to pound into you mercilessly.

Taking your lips in his in a heated kiss while raking his fingers through your hair, he continues to pound into you fast and hard, your moans muffled by the kiss. As he keeps on hitting your sensitive spots, you finally begin to see white and feel your legs quiver uncontrollably. In feeling you’ve reached your high, Mark finally spills his seed into you with muttered swears, his warmth seeping into your insides. He continues to fuck into you through your high with deep, erratic thrusts, sending you into a blissful trance as you ride the rest of it letting out the loudest whines and cries of pleasure.  

You pant to calm your pacing heartbeat as your body comes down from the high, still twitching as it settles. Mark peppers soft kisses onto your face, then to your shoulders, stroking your hair, looking at you with gleaming, round eyes that seem to hold the whole universe in them.

“…I still can’t believe you’re kinda... Mine now.” He finally breathes out, taking in the sight of you entirely. “You are... Right?”

You smile sweetly at him, seeing just how preciously he’s looking at you, feeling the gentleness in the way he’s holding you, wondering after all this time, you’ve been coming home to the wrong place, when home is actually much nearer than you’ve ever expected.

“I’m yours just as much as you want me to be, Marky.”

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[skzsauce01]

A Good Man

Anniversary Request Special

Description: Seungmin loves you so much so that he wished he was the one left behind in the plane crash, not your late husband.

Warning: guilt, plane crash, death

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: fem!reader x Seungmin

Chan was a good man— loyal, loving, reliable. Seungmin is a good man too, but Seungmin is not Chan, and he knows it. He knows it well.

He approaches you, bouquet in hand. You turn and smile when you hear him.

“Hi, Seungmin.”

“Hello, Y/N. Where’s Miyeon?”

“I left her with her grandma. She isn’t quite old enough to sit still for stuff like this yet.”

“I see.” He set the flowers by the picture of his late leader. “I should leave the two of you alone then.”

“No, wait, Seungmin,” you stop him. “Would you like to have dinner with us this evening?” 

You’re inviting him to dinner? His eyes slide to Chan’s framed smiling face. No, he mustn’t get his hopes up. There probably isn’t something more to this invitation. You probably just don’t want to be alone on your late husband’s fifth death anniversary. “Sure. Where? I’ll see if any of the boys are free too.”

“No, I meant just the three of us at my place,” you clarify. “I… I have something to say.” 

Seungmin can’t stop his heart from accelerating even though he knows it’ll hurt more later. “O-okay.”

You nod and turn back to the memorial. Seungmin watches as you whisper something into the single white carnation in your hand and set it on the altar before he himself turns to give you room.

He finds it ironic that he was actually the reason why you and Chan were together. You were his classmate whom he reunited with when Stray Kids did a reality show at a site you worked. He was even the best man at your wedding. He remembers that day clearly— that day when he saw you walking down the aisle dressed in white. He’d never felt so sick as he did then when realization and regret hit him all at once. He loves you. Since when, and for how long, he didn’t and doesn’t know, but it was and is too late. 

He finds it even more ironic, however, that he is the reason you two are now torn apart.

He raises his finger and presses the bell. Within seconds, the door is thrown open wide and a bubbly five year old greets him. “Hello, Uncle Seungmin!”

He automatically bends down and scoops the child up. “Hi there, Miyeon. Have you been a good girl today?”

“Uh-huh! You can ask Mommy!”

As if on cue, you pop out from the kitchen. “Yes, she’s been a well-behaved angel. Welcome in, Seungmin.” 

You take the melon he’d brought while he takes off his shoes. Seungmin’s a bit surprised to see three lit candles on the dining table when he walks in, but says nothing of it. He does, however, raise an eyebrow when you off-handedly mention you baked his favourite chocolate cake. He knows the recipe calls for red wine, and for a single mother such as you, anything that does not involve your child usually does not fit into your schedule, let alone cross your mind. 

After dinner, you take your daughter to her playroom upstairs with a large plate of cookies that are obviously meant to keep her distracted for a while.

Seungmin watches as you scurry back downstairs afterwards. You’re wearing a skirt. He doesn’t remember you wearing a skirt since you gave birth. He thinks you’re gorgeous in anything, but the effort you put into looking nice makes him blush a shade darker.

“Shall we?” you dramatize, pulling out the dessert.

Seungmin helps lay out two plates while you serve a slice onto each.

“You mentioned you have something to say?” he asks as you both tuck your chairs in.

Are you blushing, or is it just the heat from these candles?

“I, uh… Let’s eat first.” You smile sheepishly. “I haven’t had this in so long.”

Despite having his favourite dessert, Seungmin cannot concentrate on its taste at all. He watches as you cut through the moist cake with your fork. He can tell you’re nervous by the way your joints are turning white by your grip on the utensil. He’s used to being the anxious one, so this is new. What could have gotten you so on edge?

At last, you’ve scraped every last drop of cream you can procrastinate with into your mouth. Seungmin takes the plates and sets them into the sink before sitting back down in front of you, waiting patiently.

“What I want to say is,” you begin carefully. 

He nods once and leans forward, letting you know you have his attention.

“We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?”

“Yes, why?” Goodness, this sounds like a line from every other friends-to-lover romcom skit. Not that he would mind. As long as you tell him you feel the same way he does, he wouldn’t care if you quoted “Twilight” verbatim. Oh, to be in a lighthearted romcom with you, Seungmin dreams of nothing more. Then again, he reminds himself, these are just dreams.

“Ever since… ever since Chan passed, we grew closer, and I depended on you a lot. You’ve been my cornerstone, and I wanted to say ‘thank you.’”

He nods again, but doesn’t say anything. He knows you enough by now to recognize you have more on your mind.

Indeed, you continue. “And over these past five years, my heart has—”

“Mommy!” A sudden cry sends you both to your feet. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you toss over your shoulder to Seungmin who’s running right on your heels towards the cry.

“Miyeon!” you gasp, seeing the state of your daughter. Somehow, she has managed to squeeze through the gaps between the railing of the stairs and is hanging from the second floor. Below her, her stuffed monkey lays sprawled out on ground level.

“I’ll pull her up,” you decide, but Seungmin stops you.

“It’ll be hard to fit her back through those rails, and she’s crying too much to cooperate.” He stands under your daughter and extends his arms upwards. “Miyeon? Miyeon, let go. Uncle Seungmin will catch you. You’re going to be alright.”

The little girl stops wailing for a moment and looks down only to cry again from the intimidating height.

“Sweetie, it’s okay. You can do it. We won’t let you fall,” you add in. “You trust us, don’t you? You trust Mommy and Uncle Seungmin?”

She quiets down again and sniffles as she looks at you and Seungmin now instead of the floor. Her tiny arms are shaking, and you brace yourself, knowing she’s going to fall soon whether she wants to or not.

Miyeon whimpers once more and closes her eyes. She then finally releases her grip and lands squarely into Seungmin’s awaiting arms.

“Oof. There we go. Safe and sound,” he assures her. 

Once she’s set on the floor, Miyeon again begins to bawl from shock. “Mr— Mr. Bananas wanted to climb. Mr. Bananas wanted to climb!” she sobs, gripping the stuffed animal you’ve returned back to her arms.

“Okay, okay, we understand. Still, no more climbing for you or Mr. Bananas, alright?” hushes Seungmin.

You pick up your daughter and bounce her on your shoulder. “I think she’s learned her lesson. I didn’t think we still needed baby rails, but I guess you can never be safe enough.”

Seungmin reaches for Miyeon. “Let’s put her to bed. She must be exhausted after all that.”

You nod and let him carry the five year old up the stairs once more. You have him wait downstairs though as you change the child, so he heads back down and makes himself comfortable on the couch. On the lamp table beside him, there’s a photo of you and Chan excitedly holding up an ultrasound. It is the only picture of the three of you together.

He runs this thumb over the other man’s face, wiping it free of any dust. “I’m sorry…” he whispers. “I know it’s not worth much, but I’ll keep Y/N and Miyeon safe and happy. I promise.” 

He quickly sets down the picture and stands when he hears you closing the bedroom door. 

“Is she alright?” Seungmin asks when he sees your head appear from around the corner.

You nod, descending the steps quietly. “She’s sleeping now. She’ll forget all about it by tomorrow morning.”

“I wish I could say the same when I get hurt. I can’t even sit in certain positions anymore,” he jokes.

You laugh lightly. “I’m glad you were here, Seungmin. Things could have been a lot different if it were just me.”

“I’m always happy to help. I should get going now though. You must be tired too.”

“Wait.” Your voice stops him at the front door. “The accident… I’m thankful you were here, and I realized it had to be you. You had to be the one to do it.”

His stupid hope is rising again. He can feel it in his chest. “Y/N, what are you saying?”

“Miyeon, she wouldn’t have trusted anyone except you. She needs you, and I… I need you too.” 

Is he hearing incorrectly? His silence and bewilderment prompts you to explain. “The thing is, ever since Chan passed five years ago, you were the only one who’s been by my side, supporting and caring for me, and slowly, I’ve fallen for that. Seungmin, I know I come with a lot of baggage, but would you be willing to give us a try?”

He wants to jump, he wants to cheer, he wants to accept your confession, but none of this makes sense to logical Seungmin, so he restrains himself.

“Y/N, do you realize what you’re saying?”

You nod. “I-I know it’s sudden, but I like you, Kim Seungmin.”

“But you love Chan.”

You hesitate but nod in agreement anyway. “I’m not going to put you second. I—”

“Y/N, I killed Chan. Don’t you see? You should hate me instead. If it weren’t for me, you’d still have your husband, and Miyeon would still have a dad. If I hadn’t stood under that propeller after the plane crash, Chan wouldn’t have had to push me and get crushed in the head. I killed Chan, and no matter what I do— no matter how much I love you too— I can never stand in his place.”

You take a moment to stare at him, trying to read his body language after that confession of insecurity. After a while, you straighten your back and look him right in the eyes.

“You’re right.” He’s startled by your sudden firm tone. “You can never be Chan. You’re not a music-producing insomniac. You’re not Australian. You’re not born with curly hair.”

He swallows and hangs his head.

“But,” you continue. “I’m not looking for another Chan. I’m not looking to replace him; I’m looking for you.”

“Y/N…”

You soften your voice. “When I found out how he passed saving you, I knew I was going to be okay. I knew Chan wouldn’t leave me and his unborn child to fend for ourselves. He saved you because he knew he could count on you, and it’s why I trusted you from the beginning and why I let myself fall in love again.”

You walk up to him and take his hands. “Let me ask this again. Will you, Kim Seungmin, stand by my side, not as Chan, but as someone who loves and is loved?”

His heart pounds in his head, yet he cannot take his eyes off of yours. His throat is tied into knots, yet he cannot stop the words from tumbling out.

“Nothing would make me happier,” he breathes. 

You smile and wrap him in a hug, which he finally returns. Just then, footsteps thump down the stairs and a five year old child waddles into view.

“Mommy?” she calls. She then takes a moment to look around before her eyes land on Seungmin. “Daddy?”

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