#Magnificent Seven reader insert

[zepskies]

How would Beau comfort reader who’s gotten home from work and is feeling overwhelmed and sooky? I’m in need of comfort my the cutie patootie pls and thank you beloved 🫶🥺

Hello, my love!

I know it's been a while since you requested this @chernayawidow, but I’m so sorry you’re feeling down. It’s my pleasure to fulfill this prompt for you! 😘💞

AN: This is sort of a sequel to “Didn’t Mean to Stay,” but can be read as a stand-alone.

Word Count: 3,000 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, lots of hurt/comfort, fluff, and feels.

Imagine: Beau gives you the support you need.

You heaved a sigh while climbing up the short flight of stairs to your apartment. Why the hell you decided to live on the second floor, you had no idea…

Okay, mainly for the safety aspect of being a single woman living alone, but at least for the past year, you hadn’t been all that single (or alone, for that matter).

Seeing Beau’s truck in the parking lot reminded you that your boyfriend was already home from work. It was rare that you got here after him, but you perked up a little.

I hope he got something for dinner. Your stomach began to rumble at even the first stray thought of food. After the ridiculous day you’d had, you’d happily eat your weight in just about anything.

A hearty sandwich, Chinese lo mien, a whopping burger with fries…hell, you’d eat a whole damn bag of pizza rolls. As long as it was hot and you didn’t have to cook it.

Once you managed to insert your key and unlock the apartment, immediately there was too much sound coming from the living room. Guns and blasting and whoops and hollers. It all grated on your ears and your frayed psyche.

You grimaced as you locked the door behind you.

“Are we being invaded?!” you called.

Mercifully, the cacophony ceased as you walked into the living room and found your boyfriend with a sheepish smile. On the TV was an old western classic, The Magnificent Seven.

Typical, you thought. Your Texan cowboy loved his westerns.

“Sorry. Too loud?” he asked.

“Just a touch,” you replied.

“Well, I’m glad you're home.” Beau nodded at the TV. “Was gonna ask you what your Netflix password is.”

“What, don’t tell me you settled for 1960s cowboys?” you quipped.  

You dumped your purse on the coffee table and sunk onto the couch next to him. Beau slid an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer. You obliged by shucking off your shoes and resting against him, with your head on his shoulder. You let out a long sigh.

“Well, that was my fallback plan. See, damn Netflix booted me out and I’m really gearing up for that new season of Cake or Cake,” Beau said, with a somewhat childish smile that almost succeeded in tugging your lips upwards as well. Your brows drew together.

“Cake or…oh my God. You mean Is It Cake?” you asked. You nearly slapped yourself with your own hand as it came up to cover your eyes. Your shoulders shook with silent laughter.

“Ah, yeah. That one.” Beau grinned.

“I just can’t figure out how I keep guessing so wrong," he continued. "It looks like a hat. It should be a hat. How the hell is it actually cake? These guys are just so damn talented, I’ll tell ya. I mean, I’ve eaten my fair share of quality cake, but I ain’t never eaten a hat cake…though that does sound good to me, now that I think about it. Heh, I could finally say, ‘if that ain’t real, I’ll eat my own hat.’ And I’d actually be able to take a bite.”

Now, normally you found boyfriend’s diatribes incredibly endearing. Beau was a talker, and you appreciated having him with you at social gatherings. Not only was he great at connecting with people (something you very much admired), but the man was damn good at filling a silence.

Today, however, he was feeding the headache pulsing behind your eyes. You loved him dearly. Yet you were tempted to dig your nails into your own arm just to stop yourself from snapping at him to please, stop talking.

“Speakin’ of food, that reminds me. My stomach’s damn near ready to eat itself.” He eyed you. “What’s for dinner, baby?”

Your hand slid from your face and slapped onto your leg. Your head slowly turned to him.

“I don’t know, Beau. What’d you cook?” you said tartly.

It was an effort, considering how comfortable you were while tucked against him, but you moved his arm off your hip and lifted your heavy-feeling body off the couch. Shaking your head, you trudged a path over to your room.

You didn’t see it, but Beau frowned. Though you heard him follow after you. You did your best to go about your business, unbuttoning your pants and starting on your blouse. You were just so damn tired, and probably still anxious. Even your hands were trembling and fumbling with the buttons.

Still, you sensed him coming closer, saw his sock-covered feet out of the corner of your eye. The rest of him was comfortably dressed in sweatpants and a wool sweater you bought for him last month; he was getting better, but still acclimating to Montana winters.

“You’ve been here all this time,” you grumbled. “You see how late I’m coming in, and you don’t think, hey, my girl’s gonna be tired. Why don’t I figure out how to work the stove so she doesn’t have to worry about feeding my six-foot-ass, bottomless pit—”

Beau’s hands stilled yours, and he took over unbuttoning your blouse to help you. He bent his head enough to catch your eyes, smiling a little at your grumpy face.

“All right, all right. I see your point,” he said. “You had a bitch of day, huh?”

“The longest of my damn life,” you said. The stress of each moment played behind your eyes. So much that they stung with unshed tears when you raised your gaze to meet his.

Beau’s brows furrowed in sympathy. He paused in what he was doing to stroke your cheek and press a tender kiss to your forehead.

“And I wanna hear about it, but first, you go take a nice long shower,” he said. “What do you feel like eating?”

“Food,” you said petulantly. But he was being too sweet for you to be all that annoyed with him. A reluctant smile was growing across your lips. Beau smirked.

“You in the mood for Italian? Chinese? Maybe feeling a little adventurous and wanna try that Greek place down the street?” he suggested. “I think they deliver.”

By now he’d worked your blouse open. His hands were finding their way along the curve of your waist, smoothly across your skin, then meeting at the small of your back. He pressed the heel of one hand there, where he knew your shitty desk chair often made you ache.

You gripped his strong arms for support and leaned into him. You let out a sigh and rested your cheek against his chest, where he dropped another kiss on the top of your head.

“Greek sounds good, actually,” you confessed.

“Mmm, hell yeah. You want chicken, steak, or lamb on your gyro?” he asked. You felt the reverberation of his hum, and it was weirdly soothing. Though his question reminded you of one of your favorite movies that you too often quoted to him: My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

“What you mean he don’t eat no meat?” you said with a giggle. Beau’s lips moved to your forehead, and you felt the shape of his smile.

“It’s okay, I make lamb,” you both said together.

He chuckled and held you a bit tighter, secure and comforting. “All right. Lamb it is…you think they got cake on the menu?”

When you laughed, it was muffled by his sweater.

After a hot shower, good food, and three episodes of Is It Cake later, you were falling asleep on your corner of the couch.

All through dinner, Beau had listened to you vent about your day. About the problems your coworkers had hoisted on you to solve in the midst of a massive project you were already tackling. How your boss then blamed you for not coming to her first before you overloaded yourself, and how you’d very seriously contemplated going to HR before you figured just dealing with it would cause you less grief in the end.

Your boyfriend listened and gave his two cents, both supportive and fair. That was another thing you liked about him; he was always fair.

Now, he roused you out of your drowsy state when his arms wrapped around your frame and lifted you up.

You whined in protest. “Whaaat? Don’t move me.”

“Nope, you’re goin’ to bed,” he said, in his sheriff’s voice that boded no argument. You grumbled, but you still snuggled closer to his chest and pressed your sleepy face into his neck.

Smirking, he walked you into the bedroom and laid you down on your side of the bed. He came to your place often enough that he now had his own side, complete with his own nightstand and a couple of drawers of your dresser, even a bit of closet space.

You really should’ve just told him to move the hell in already, but you weren’t like Beau. He was a man of action. He processed things quickly and made decisions just as fast. His job demanded him to be that way.

You tended to drag your feet. You also tended to worry, and weigh pros and cons, and you were cautious by nature. Even dating this man had been a slow process, for which he’d been very patient with you. (And you with him, especially in the beginning as he learned to open up to you.)

The evidence was plain to see, as he raised the blankets and helped you roll underneath them. You just took him by surprise when you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him down with you.

“Hey!” he laughed. He had to brace himself against the mattress before he crushed you. His knees fell on either side of your hips while your arms twined around his neck.

“You’re a wily one, even half-asleep,” he remarked. You smiled and threaded your fingers through his soft brown hair.

“Like a rattlesnake in the tall grass,” you teased. In fairness, the two of you had gotten into watching David Attenborough's nature documentaries.

Beau’s brows raised, his smile deepening.  

“Oh yeah? Better not mess around then,” he chuckled. “I might just get bit.”  

You snorted. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You leaned up until your lips were nearly brushing his. Beau’s eyes lowered to your face, taking in all the things that felt more like home than his little trailer near the woods.

Just before you would’ve closed the small breadth of distance, you veered away from his mouth and went for his neck instead. He even flinched at the tease of your teeth playfully biting him.

"You little vixen!" He laughed deeply as he unwound your arms from his neck. He pinned you down to the bed and pressed his hips down into yours over the sheets. But it was his claiming lips that stopped you from fighting back.

Your shoulders trembled with giggles that he swallowed up, kiss after kiss. Your eyes closed as he dragged the sheets down away from your body. His hands caressed you through your thin tank top, brushing over a hardened nipple with the back of his hand, then squeezing your breast through the fabric.

You sighed into his mouth. “I know I kind of started this, but I’m really tired, baby…”

“Who says you gotta do anything?” rumbled his rich voice.

A tremor of heat ran through you. Even with your eyes closed, your exhausted body responded to his touch. His lips drew a hot, wet path down your neck, all while his hands did sinfully good things, sliding under your tank top and gliding against your skin. You let him take it all the way off, followed by your pajama pants and cotton panties, though he paused to squeeze your ass in appreciation.

“Someone’s been doing squats,” he noted, grinning down at you.

“Nah, just an extra slice of that honey cake,” you retorted. Apparently, the Greeks liked honey on everything.

Beau’s head tilted. “Huh. Well, I do like me some cake.”

You laughed, then jolted with a yelp when he slapped a bare cheek.

But you couldn’t just lay idle when he started on his own clothes. You sat up and helped him raise the sweater up and over his shoulders, but he stopped you.

“I mean it. You just lie back and relax,” he said, giving you a charming grin. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes; he was just too damn good to you.

While he finished taking off the sweater, your hands drifted down to the waistband of his pants. You caressed the hardening length of him, earning a hiss and a groan from him.

“Can’t I just…” you tried.

With difficulty, Beau grabbed your wrist. He raised a brow at you and guided you back down.

“For once, I’m ‘a need you to listen to me,” he said, kissing your cheek and then the other side of your neck.

You breathed a laugh, but it caught on a moan as his fingers brushed through your wet folds. He made a sound of approval. And those nimble fingers gathered some of your wetness and began circling slowly over your clit.

You sucked in a breath and arched against him. You even whimpered a little as his free hand wound through your hair, giving him further access to your neck. He hummed against your skin and grazed his teeth under your ear.

“I gotcha, baby. Whenever you need it,” he said, low and steady. You gripped his arms for dear life as two of his fingers slipped deep inside you. You panted into his neck, rocked your hips mostly in time with his fingers as they twisted and pulsed around your tightening walls. His thumb rubbed against your throbbing clit.

“Please,” you whispered into his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. “Want you inside me.”

“We’re gettin’ there,” Beau nodded. He was breathing harder too, just from anticipation. The sounds you were making, the way you were squeezing his hand from the inside had him painfully hard.

“Now,” you insisted. Your hands moved to grip his hair, and your lips met his in a devouring kiss.

Beau matched your passion with closed eyes and furrowed brows. He’d had a plan for you at the start of this, but what kind of man would he be if he didn’t abide by your wishes?

So he withdrew his fingers from your slick pussy, even though you uttered a shuddering breath. It took everything you had within you to remain still and resting against the pillows as you caught your breath. You wanted to wrestle down his sweatpants yourself and show your boyfriend how appreciative you could be.

But you also appreciated what he was trying to do. You watched him with tired, but still hungry eyes as he kicked off the pants and the boxer briefs and returned to you, bracing a forearm above your head after he spread your legs and raised up your knees.

He lowered himself between the warm cradle of your thighs and kissed down your chest, licked between the valley of your breasts.

You arched up again when his tongue found your nipple, swirling around it, and finally taking it between his teeth. His hips rolled against yours, making his cock press against your core teasingly.

“Beau, for the love of God,” you moaned.

He chuckled. “Maybe you oughta learn how to be patient.”

You grabbed his bearded face between both hands and raised him up to you. He noted your challenging brow, but also your smile.

“Maybe you shouldn’t tease the rattlesnake,” you replied.

Beau laughed and ducked his forehead against yours. “Okay, darlin’. I’m sorry.”

He nosed at your cheek, angling for a kiss. You tipped your head back and welcomed his lips, especially when his tongue slipped past to tangle with yours. His forearm was braced above your head, but his free hand left your hip to line himself up to your entrance.

Another shudder went through your body as he finally slid home inside you. The shape and feeling of his cock was familiar as it stretched your inner walls, and you caught his moan in your mouth.

Your legs wrapped around his hips and squeezed, forcing him in deeper. His eyes screwed shut as he lost focus for a moment. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of the feeling of you, or the sound of your voice, or the way you trusted him, but still tried to give as much as you took.

He pulled out nearly all the way, slowly sliding back in so you’d feel every inch. You clenched on him as a tremble ran through your body.

You uttered a broken gasp of his name that spearheaded goosebumps across his skin. And his next movements were faster, though just as deep.

He followed the encouragements of your voice, especially when he shifted his hips at an angle he knew would make you writhe. His fingers stroking your already sensitive clit, in time with his last wild thrusts, had you threatening to rip out a chunk of his hair. Instead, you gasped in his ear and dug your fingers into his hips.

His own release followed yours shortly after; he could only resist you squeezing the life out of him from the inside out for so long. And you held him afterwards, even though he still had a trembling arm braced above you.

Your hands smoothed up and down his back, trailing lightly with your nails. His breath was hot, but not uncomfortable against your neck.

You felt absolutely boneless as your legs slid from his hips. He pulled out of you soon after, but your embrace kept him from moving very far. He rested on his side, and you turned towards him. You both knew you’d have to deal with the sheets and the cleanup, but not just yet.

You carded your fingers more soothingly through his hair and drew his face back to yours.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered. And you didn’t just mean in this bed. “I haven’t had that in a long time.”

Beau’s smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You don’t gotta thank me for that.”

“Yeah, I do,” you nodded. Your lips formed a tired smile before they pressed softly to his. “I love you.”

Beau took a moment to brush a sweaty strand of hair away from your face. He’d believed in second chances before he met you…just not for himself. Meeting you made him swear by them.

“Love you too,” he said.

And the warmth of that bone-deep knowledge was more satisfying than even the heftiest slice of cake.

AN: God, I love Beau. I miss Big Sky. 😭 But feel free to let me know what you think of this one! It's only my second time, but I really do love writing this guy. ❤️

And tell me...are you team cake 🍰 or team pie 🥧?

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[spnfanficpond]

SPN Rewatch: FanFic Edition

Our goal is to rewatch the show with fanfic writing in mind. We want to look for all the places in canon where we could add a scene, show a scene from a certain character’s point of view, or change something to make things turn out differently. (We may also critique what the show writers did; that seems inevitable.)

Episodes we're discussing: 3.01 The Magnificent Seven and 3.02 The Kids Are Alright

What time will it be for you:

UTC - Saturday 16:00

Los Angeles - Saturday 9am

New York - Saturday noon

London - Saturday 5pm

New Delhi - Saturday 9:30pm

Melbourne - Sunday 2am

Who’s invited? All Pond members, including Turtles! You don’t have to be a writer to have an opinion on the episodes that could inspire a writer! Everyone has valuable opinions about the show and could spark conversation and inspiration.

Where will we meet? In the discord server.  (You must be a member to be in the Discord server. Not a member? Fill out this form here.) There is a special channel for us to chat in so we don’t disturb other chats happening at the same time.

How does it work? On our own, whenever we have time, we all watch two episodes of SPN. At the appointed time, we all get together and chat about them. Although we have several questions to consider and creative ideas for you to do if you want, there is no pressure to actually have answers to these questions or have created anything prior to the chat. Didn’t get to watch them? No biggie! We’ve all watched these episodes enough that we can probably talk about them without rewatching them!

More info under the cut!

What questions should we consider while we watch? We have a few questions you can keep in mind while you’re watching the episodes:

Are there any “fanfiction gaps” in this episode? Any places between scenes where a juicy story could happen? (For example, one scene ends at night, but the next scene begins during the day, and what did they do with all of that time?)

How would the episode be different if you changed one thing? What is changed is up to you. It could be as complex as a character making a different choice, or as simple or silly as someone wearing a funny hat throughout part or all of the episode.

What about this episode would you like to see happen differently? How would making that change affect future episodes?

List any parts of each episode that you think could be jumping-off points for a fic. Like, in the pilot, how did Sam meet their friend who was in the bar with them?

How would the episode be different if there were another character involved like a reader insert character?

Do any of the themes we've already discussed in The Archive (See the bottom of the doc under the heading "Thematic docs") show up in this episode? Does this episode bring up any new themes we should be watching out for in the future?

What else can we do before the chat? You can add any notes you have about the episodes we'll be discussing to The Archives! In addition, besides just discussing the fanfiction possibilities in every episode, we also want to encourage you to create things centered around the episodes we’re discussing and share them with the rest of us. Things like:

Write some meta about some part of the episode. What does this episode show us about one or more of the characters?

Write a fic based on the episode. Share a link to your fic in the discussion and we can talk about it!

Make a playlist that you feel reflects the mood of the episode.

Make some art or a photo collage or edits to go along with the episode.

We look forward to seeing everything you create! Be sure to tag us so we can reblog your work!

Have questions about this or anything else? Send us an ASK or send a private message to one of the admins below!

Admins:

Michelle - @mrswhozeewhatsis

Marie - @mariekoukie6661

MJ - @thoughtslikeaminefield

Mana - @manawhaat (Founder and Admin Emeritus)

[atiny-piratequeen]

𝑨𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒙𝒊𝒂-a state of freedom from emotional disturbance and anxiety, especially as an ongoing condition of soul-fulfilling attainment; unconditional tranquility

𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

Ataraxia Verse, Atx Asks, Asks towards the boys directly are on @atiny-crew-musings

𝑰𝒏𝒇𝒐:

Ataraxia, abbreviated as "Atx" for short, is a new universe, focused around ateez as various 'monsters'. The idea grew from a commission from @jacksons-goddess-gaia and thanks to her and @little-lazuli, along with some interested anons, has grown into a wider, expanded universe, and this post is to help us get to know our players a bit better. This post is in no way finalized and changes may apply, especially as more works are added.

An important note: The characters in this universe are polyamorous and queer. Just because there are some 'x reader insert' works in the series does not negate from the overarching theme of this being Polyteez.

Eye renders below were done by me (7/8) and @doodles-and-teacups (1/8-Mingi's were rendered by them, thank you again, Mickey!)

.·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.

Hongjoong-Ocean Vengence

Faka’ita fai ki tahi

Anger bestowed on the sea.-Tongan

Race: (Reborn) Seaborn-Once a Human, Now a Siren

Height: 6’1, 6’5 in Seaborn Form in Water

Age: 23 When human, 85 currently

Appearance: Blue hair, deep brown eyes, appears black from afar. From his forearm down and calves down to his feet in humanoid form, they are black with small, speckled scales along his skin that glitter depending on when it is hit by the light. In Seaborn form, he has the tail of an orca. His dorsal side is sleek and solid black while his ventral side is white.

Powers: Hydrokinesis, Swift Swimming, Thickened Blubber (tail), Cold Resistant, Vocal Manipulation, Hypnosis

Weapons: Aside from his fangs and claws, Hongjoong's signature method of inflicting damage is to slam his tail against the ribcage of his enemies, often trying to break their ribs and puncture their lungs from the force of the hits. On land, he uses neon knives gifted to him by a particular Entity.

Personality: Hongjoong is one of the more cynical of the core eight men of this universe. He is guarded and fairly quick to anger. Despite this, he has become an exemplary leader in the village where he and Seonghwa live. Hongjoong would do anything for his seven and his village and is incredibly perceptive when it comes to reading the movements of potential enemies and planning counterattacks according to his findings.

Scent:

Home: Talavou, the village steadily growing in the depths of a series of islands in the Eastern Hemisphere of the world. Once very small, holding a population of only one thousand or so Seaborn and Reborns, now it has grown and neighboring areas have developed alongside the central village that are all under the same jurisdiction.

.·:*¨ ✘♚✘ ¨*:·.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

Seonghwa- Seafoam Kismet

Papata pē, ka na’e lalanga

It may be coarse in texture but it was woven.-Tongan

Race: Seaborn (Angelfish)

Height: 7’, 8’ in Seaborn Form in Water

Age: 177

Appearance: Soft, silken blonde hair, green eyes (change with emotions). His forearm down to his hands and his calves down to his feet are covered in an ombre platinum to blue. Several patches of scales will appear on his skin depending on his emotions/if he's injured and trying to protect himself from sustaining more injuries. He has a scar on his shoulder and on his abdomen after a Certain Incident. In his Seaborn Form, he has a magnificent tail holding some qualities from some ocean angelfish. His tail now has thick brown stripes starting along the midway point. Between these stripes, orange and yellow dots litter the spaces. The end of his tail is solid black with a single, vibrant electric blue stripe along the flowy fan of his tail. His hands have claws that can tear through skin and crush bone.

Powers: Hydrokinesis, Swift Swimming, Glow-in-the-Dark Scales, Vocal Manipulation, Hypnosis

Weapons: Unlike his Talavoutian Captain, Seonghwa does not use any outside weapons when he fights. He prefers to use his own brute strength and his primary method of ending conflict is to tear the hearts out of his enemies.

Personality: Despite his often snarky banter with Hongjoong, Seonghwa is fiercely loyal and would do anything for the people he loves. He tends to put himself in danger trying to protect weaker entities, and this is why he primarily lives on the shore nearby the village instead of living in it-protecting sea turtles and helping them hatch and make it into the water without any of them being eaten by predators. Despite his handsome, princely appearance, he is one of the easiest to make flustered and unfortunately (for him), his emotions are broadcasted on full display thanks to his scales and his eyes. While incredibly intelligent, he is surprisingly aloof and often loses track of time, leading to him getting scolded by the other members of The Fold for not visiting them as much as he should be.

Scent: Sea salt, Vanilla + coconut undertones

Home: Despite being a native of Talavou, Seonghwa primarily lives on the nearest island to the village. This island has no name, yet.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Yunho-Magma Sentinel

Ng ko er a belochel, el mesengei otelochel e suebek

Like a pigeon seeing the danger, yet it flies from cover. (Palauan)

Race: Hellhound

Height: 7’5 in Hellhound Canine Form, 9’ in Humanoid Form

Age: 666 Years Old

Appearance: In his Hellhound form, Yunho stands taller than a horse. His appearance is based off of a Tibetan Mastiff, and as such, he has a coat full of dense, thick black furr. His paws are bigger than that of a bear's. He has two, circular markings above his eyes resembling eye brows that are made from red fur and has a patch of fur along his chest, stomach, the bottoms of his paws, and the underside of his tail where all of the fur is deep crimson. In this form, his fangs are so massive, they can be seen even when his mouth is shut. In his bipedal 'human' form, he stands at 9 feet tall, and his eyes retain their deep, blazing color as they are when he is in his hound form. When he is angered, his eyes blaze, and as a result of it, he has permanent burn marks in the corner of his eyes despite his ears being downcast in his hound form, they are upright in his humanoid form. His tail is the same size as it is in his hound form. He doesn't have an under or overbite in this form, but his canines are just as sharp. His tongue is a vibrant red and orange because of his ability to spit fire and magma, but he can control the temperature so it doesn't harm anyone if he doesn't intend it to. Yunho's wrists, ankles, and his neck are littered in scars, memories of a past imprisonment when he was a few centuries younger.

Powers: Magma and fire manipulation (from his mouth, his hands/paws), Yunho's fire is so hot it can continuously burn one's spirit even after they are dead. He has the strongest ability to track scents of all of the boys in The Fold and can even breathe underwater and track there, too. Because of his ability to manipulate heat, he can technically 'fly' by running on air. His flames get stronger when he goes in a 'berserker' state and when his flames come into contact with Mingi's, they weave together and can eviscerate an entire continent.

Weapons: Yunho doesn't use any items for weapons. In both of his forms, his claws and teeth emit either lava or fire depending on how concentrated it is, or how angry he is. He uses his massive body to knock enemies off of their feet and tends to aim for the jugular when it comes to larger entities.

Personality: Hellhounds are, by nature, quite competitive and combative. While Yunho is not as overtly as aggressive as some of his peers, his hostility comes out in a full show of force when those he cares about are in any form of danger and/or distress. Aside from that, he tends to be a standout compared to other Hounds. He is kind most of the time, often offering his services to struggling couples in order to help incubate their eggs. Because of this, he has been essential in the population boom in Talavou and has helped many of the guppies of Seaborn come into being. Because of a certain incident in his past, he is exceptionally gentle with children and often offers himself up when it comes to looking after them. If any children in his care were to become threatened or frightened by any opposing forces, Yunho would respond with EXTREME prejudice. Despite any preconceived notions about his nature, Yunho goes out of his way to be gentle with those weaker than him and because of that, he is often called upon to be a guardian watchdog for traveling caravans of monsters and spirits alike.

Scent: amber + geranium, smoked wood when enraged

Home: Born from fire and flame, Yunho lives in the Underworld, in a section known as the Crimson Fields. This area is where many Hellhounds reside, and it is, in its own right, a massive open village. It has areas designated for any battles, as Hellhounds tend to be on the more aggressive end, by nature. Yunho has a cabin of his own that he built by hand, and lives on the outskirts. He prefers to live with his seven, though, and will spend most of his time not in the Crimson Fields visiting Velvet Elysium-the Succubus/Incubus colony Jongho was born in, Talavou-the Siren village, The Whetū Faewilds-Yeosang's Home, or in San and Mingi’s Den in Serein Mountain.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...｡o○　　○o｡..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Yeosang- Wildwood Lex Talionis

Air tenang menghanyutkan

Don’t think there are no crocodiles because the water runs calm.-Indonesian

Race-Faerie, ???

Height: 6’5

Age: ?????

Appearance: Yeosang is the tallest fae in his village, standing abnormally tall for his race, as most of his other villagers are well over a foot shorter than him. His eyes are usually a dazzling mixture of blue and gold, with flecks of pink and stardust-like twinkles in them. the edges of his eyes are dark purple. His eyes change when he is angered, bleeding into an intense crimson and magenta color. The corner of his left eye has a big, distinct birthmark in the corner of it. Across his nose are freckles that glitter and glow with his magic use, they change depending on what type of magic he uses. His hair is silky, long, and black, and almost always has some form of decorative clip in it. Yeosang wears the most ornate jewelry of all of the boys, and it seems like each of them has some tie to his powers in some way, shape, or form. He wears loose-fitting clothing, but is actually quite muscular underneath.

Powers: Phytokinesis, Fae Magic,....r̨͇̖̪͊e̹͓̜͍̘̝̼̓̌͟m̻͎̾ͮ̅̀a̴̜̯̟͎͔͓̔ͬͮͪi̷̦̦̟͒n̙̻̳̺͇̓͐̄̀͘i̴̮̼͚͍͎̫ͭͧn̡͎̟̙͖̣̣̪͈̿g̨̯̙̻̜̣̩ͥ̓̇ ̨͕͕̭̩ͫd̷̠̰̗̞̭͖̃͊ͪ̈́ä̛̹̹̳͐͛t̛̹̯̰̣͂͐͐͐á̤͎̯ͮ͌͜ ̛̤̣̹͇̿cͯ̃͒ͦ҉͎͚̬̫ͅo̠̳͓̮̣̺͖̹ͣ̀ŗ̻̪̝ͫ̐ͅr͎͈͈͔̙͓̞̘̎̂ͣ́u̘͙ͮ͟p̵̞͙̲̲̦̗̱̫̏ͮͫͨt̴͚̯̦̖͇̻ͯ̎̐e̸̥̗̤̦ͪ̇d̤̬̻͇̩̆ͫ͊͞

Personality: Yeosang is a healer and by nature, he is very kind being, and every being in his forest looks to him for guidance and leadership. Despite his initial soft-spoken mannerisms, Yeosang can be quite hostile when it comes to his loved ones and his forest. There is a mysterious air that follows the man and it seems only Wooyoung truly knows what he's not quite telling the others. Yeosang often protects those around him with anything at his disposal, but he also has been known to curse those who cross him for several generations, inflicting pain and misfortune on their bloodline that will not be lifted until he can be appeased once more. He can be quite sadistic and if angered and set off, tends to kill in slow, agonizing ways before returning to his home.

Scent:

Home: The Whetū Faewilds

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...｡o○　　○o｡..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

»» ──ஓ๑♥๑ஓ ── ««

San- Novaturient Eleutheromania

Tēnā ra koe, e whakamaui ake nei

Greetings to you who have come from death’s door-Māori

Race: Manticore

Height: 6'8 in Manticore Form, 6’7 in Humanoid Form

Age: 277 Years Old

Appearance: In both his manticore form and his humanoid form, San has bold, striking magenta eyes with slits down the center. In his manticore form, resembles a lion, both in appearance and height and in size. As far as manticores go, he is actually on the smaller end. His tail is a thick, solid black scorpion tail and he has wings on his back that are covered by Mingi's shredded scales for protection. San wears a choker made from Mingi's scales, as well, that protect his neck from fatal wounds to the jugular. In his humanoid form, his ears, tail, and wings stay visible. San has retractable claws and a barbed tongue, though his tongue is much softer than a traditional feline creature's is.

Powers: Shape Shifting, Sonic Roars, Potent Venomous Stings, Flight, Super Strength

Weapons: San's roars can disorient and even deafen his enemies, and he often uses this as an opening to either escape or rush in for a hit and run style attack with his claws or his tail. His tail holds very potent venom that can down up to thirteen elephants in a single jab. San's jaws are incredibly powerful and can lock once he's got a full bite of whoever he's holding onto, giving him more time to riddle them with more stings from his tail and neutralize them as quickly as possible.

Personality: San is the most guarded of all of the members. He is from a race of monsters that has been hunted to near extinction for sport, and because of that, he does not trust anyone easily. After a chaotic night and a certain incident in the rain, San stumbled onto Mingi's mountain and was saved by the dragon. After then, he stays inside their shared den, creating a labyrinth at first to separate him from the stronger winged man to keep himself safe, but those days have long since passed and he is often attached to the hip with the large monster. If you are one of the small few who win him over and gain his trust, a different side of San is revealed. He is a fun-loving man with those he loves and despite his own fear of being killed, San sometimes finds himself throwing himself in the heat of the battle to guard the others. It is the only time he'd intentionally put himself in danger, as he often thinks of himself and his own self-preservation first before most others. He means no ill-will by his actions, and it is the cause of great unrest in his heart, being afraid of the world around him that so many in the fold find beauty in.

Scent:

Home: San's previous home was destroyed, so he now lives in Serein Mountain with Mingi.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Mingi-Nacarat Querencia

Berakit-rakit ke hulu, berenang-renang ke tepian.

Bersakit-sakit dahulu, bersenang-senang kemudian.

Rafting to the headwaters, swimming to the riversides. It is painful at first, but victorious in the end.-Indonesian

Race: Dragon

Height: 1024’ (As Tall as the Eiffel Tower w/o Antenna) in Enraged Dragon Form, Size in Form Varies Otherwise, 10’ in Humanoid Form

Age: 500+ Years Old

Appearance: Mingi is a massive gold-type dragon, and to many smaller than him, in either form, he stretches as tall as the heavens. His dragon form is covered in deep, international orange scales along with sharp spines along the length of his spine that can pierce through even stone. His underbelly is an ombre cream-to-gold color, and the end of his thick, tree-trunk-like tail has silken fur. His eyes are deep and mixed with shades of orange and gold, and he has twin, spiraled crimson horns on his head that are similar to a giant eland's. His wings are wide and have a shimmer underneath them that serve to distract and blind when Mingi fights. In his humanoid form, he stands as the tallest of The Fold. His hair is two shades of orange, with the lighter amber shade being at the top and front, while the deeper, international shade is towards the back. Mingi's horns, tail, and wings remain present in this form, as well as thick patches of scales covering his vital points (over his heart, around his throat). from his forearms down to his (clawed) fingers, his arms are an ombre from deep orange to gold. From past fights, in both forms, Mingi is littered with scars, with the most prominent being a deep scar over the center of his wings, where he nearly had them torn off in a conflict many moons ago.

Powers: Shapeshifting, Fire Breathing, Superior Strength, Flight, His flames get stronger when he goes in a 'berserker' state and when his flames come into contact with Yunho's, they weave together and can eviscerate an entire continent.

Weapons: Mingi himself is stronger than most weapons this universe has to offer, as is the power of a dragon. His claws can tear into mountains and have shaped the very den he resides in, his back developed spikes once he reached maturity as a dragon and he can slam his massive body into enemies to do catastrophic amounts of damage, especially if he is going back-first. Mingi's tail is very thick and muscular and he has used it to rupture organs with several tail slams. Despite all of this, his most impressive and terrifying weapon is most likely his fire. Growing whiter the more gold and gems he eats, the heat from his flames can get so hot they cremate a being on the spot.

Personality: Mingi is a kind-hearted dragon despite his intimidating appearance and capabilities. He tends to have a good read on a person's intentions, especially after all the years he'd been present on this planet. He is often hyper-aware of his size and strength and is very concerned with hurting the people he loves by accident. It took him nearly three years to allow San anywhere near him during his rut cycles, for fear he'd harm the feline man. Mingi is very passionate and this is both his greatest strength and weakness, as his passion leads to him being beloved by not only his Fold, but those who are lucky enough to meet him. Unfortunately, he often gets overly angered when those he loves are in danger and this leads to him erupting into anger to protect them.

Scent:

Home: After many centuries of traveling, Mingi settled on a mountain known for its rainy conditions, which are very unfavorable to would-be travelers. He burrowed into the side, and with the help of Yeosang and Wooyoung's powerful magic, can make the mountain disappear into a different plane of existence for periods of time (often when he and San are absent). This mountain is Serein Mountain.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

༻༻༻⋇⋆☽ ✦⋆⋇༺༺༺

Wooyoung- Cosmic Verisimilitude

H̵̘̔̓̎e̵̦̓̚͜ ̵̡̛͙̣͌w̷̛͖̫̫͠h̶̢̝̿o̷̢̗͋ ̵̣͚͊p̸̮͆̈́ŗ̴̞͂̍͒o̶̹̿͠v̷͉͆́͗ͅó̷͕͗k̷̳̺̞̔̉é̷̯̍̇s̶͈̊̉ ̴̡͒̐ȧ̷̰͇ ̸̡͉̑͝w̴̡̟̒̅ả̸̘̩ͅr̶̦̭̗̾͝ ̵̘͇̻̿̆m̷̝̺̽͠ü̴̺̟͔̈́̎s̶͚͛̾t̸͉̰̰̆̎ ̶̮͉̟̏̃͝b̷͇͊́̊ḛ̷̂̍̔ ̷͉͚͇̇ś̵̹̎͘ụ̶̰̉̚r̵͎̋͛̕e̶͎̐ ̶͈̘̎̍ţ̶̺̭͗͛h̷̛̰́̿a̸̡̽̔͝t̷̢̻̳̃͂ ̷͇̖̩͛̉̋h̸̬̝̑̊e̶̬̓͐ ̵̘͝ͅk̵̢̼̤̿ń̷̠̤̺͒̕o̸̪̺̪͊w̴̝͊ṣ̸̹̌͆̐ ̴̢͝ḩ̵̨̝̃͌͠ǒ̷̹̣̰w̶̦̤͊̎ ̴͇̒ṱ̸̗̾ò̷̲̖̫ ̴̬͂f̴̼̪̓̋í̴̯̾g̷̞͍̹̔h̷͖̚ṱ̵̓̏̏

Race- Eldritch God 

Height: Larger than the Heavens in ‘True Cosmic Form’, Changes Size at Will, 5’7 Usually

Age: ???????

ᵯēꞩꞩⱥꞡē īꞥⱦēɍɍᵾꝑⱦēđ

Appearance: "Oh, this is fun. Did you all think you'd get all the juicy details here? No. I don't think so. Besides, do you really want to see me in that form? Are you so eager to perish? Here, let me give you the cute version. Ahem. Wooyoung-that's me-has deep purple and blue eyes with cosmic stardust swirling in them. My hair is whatever color I decide looks good, but the long, black look fits me best."

Powers: "My powers are beyond human comprehension. Let's leave it as 'enough to consume this world and not break a sweat. That sounds nice and dramatic, doesn't it? Don't worry. It's not like I go around snapping my fingers crushing planets in an instant...much. Haha."

Personality: "*chuckling* I'm sure you understand by now."

Scent: "Hah. No."

Home: "My home is with my Seven. My Fold is the only thing keeping this pathetic planet from ruin. Be grateful. I think I'm quite done here for today. You can have this back."

ȼꝋꞥꞥēȼⱦīꝋꞥ ɍēⱦᵾɍꞥēđ

༻༻༻⋇⋆☽ ✦⋆⋇༺༺༺

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jongho-Wanton Yūgen 

He 'ohu ke aloha; 'a'ohe kuahiwi kau 'ole

Love is like mist, there is no mountaintop that it does not settle upon-Hawaiian

Race-Incubi

Height: 6’7

Age: 24 Years

Appearance: Jongho has brilliant hazel eyes that have small, defined hearts in them that make his eyes shine when he experiences pleasure. His hair is a deep red color, contrasting starkly with his eyes. His tail is a thick, almost leathery material and has a heart-shaped tip at the end. Mid-feed, markings may appear on his body, resembling tattoos.

Powers: Seduction, Hypnotism, Pheromone Manipulation, Strength

Weapon: Jongho came into being with exceptional strenth, and is a standout amongst most of his incubi peers because of it. Despite his ability to use his brute strength to subdue enemies, Jongho prefers to use a trench knife given to him by Hongjoong in fights and he takes grate care to keep the blade sharp. In his non-dominant hand, he defends and attacks with a tonfa he'd been gifted from Seulgi. His tail is also strong enough to choke out most entities.

Personality: Jongho is quite close to the members of The Fold, as is the case with all of them, but he holds them in such high regard, he's gotten a strong fear of them seeing him feed and therefore seeing him as a 'lesser being'. All of them have offered themselves to him but it is a battle he has yet to overcome quite yet. He enjoys their touch-though at times he will not admit it without a fight-and has learned to cook to counter his hunger. Wooyoung gave him a paw-print necklace he keeps around his neck at all times and Jongho often finds himself suckling on the stone when he is exceptionally hungry. Despite going two decades without eating an actual meal, Jongho is still strong enough to fight and stand alongside the other members of The Fold.

Scent: amber, warm vanilla + cashmere notes

Home: Jongho came into being in Velvet Elysium and spends his free time there being cared for by Seulgi or exploring with his close friend, a certain ghost he'd bonded with. When not in The Underworld, Jongho can be found with any given one of his hyungs, enjoying his time in their presence and mentally steeling himself for more.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ * 。° 。 • ˚《

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

𝑬𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆

┕━☽【❖】☾━┙

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

⋘ ᴛʀʏ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ... ⋙

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔

♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡

Beauty Leaves- Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

⋘ 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡... ⋙

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

⋘ ᴛʀʏ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ... ⋙

[make-me-imagine]

Unspoken

Prompts: 'Hands brush as you stand next to each other, you think it's on accident until their hands gentle wrap around yours.' + 'Silent fields surrounded by fog' and 'First realization of love.' Requested By: @youngcroissantturkeyworribler (these were two separate requests, that I have combined)

Pairing: Red Harvest x GN!Reader

Warnings: Bit angsty, mentions of violence, guns, blood, nothing graphic.

Word Count: ~2.4k

-

Every noise seemed ten times louder as you strained your ears, expecting the sound of horses any second. If you knew any better you would think anything within a hundred feet could hear your heart beating. Your eyes strained to catch any movement across the empty foggy fields.

Your nerves might have gotten the best of you had Red Harvest not been right beside you. His eyes scanned the area as well, as you forced to keep yours forward. Though every time you heard him exhale, you were tempted to look over at him.

You had no idea why you were here. Chisolm told you to go with Red Harvest to wait for the arrival of the gang, but didn't tell you why. Red Harvest was faster, quieter on his own. You would only slow him down.

But he did not complain, or say anything to Chisolm when you rode out on your horse with him. You wanted to ask Red Harvest if he knew why you were here, but you needed to wait, to make sure there was no one around. You couldn't see well enough across the field to make a proper assumption.

If you hadn't been waiting for a deadly gang to come through, you would think the field peaceful. The grass swayed lightly back and forth, as the fog rolled peacefully across the ground. You could hear a trickling stream nearby, as birds sang in the trees above you. The morning sun was just rising, so a dull orange glow was slowly spreading out across the ground, lightning up the fog like fire.

As Red Harvest adjusted himself, looking behind the two of you, scanning the area one more time, he settled back down beside you. You felt a jolt of surprise shoot through you as his arm rested against yours. His hand sitting on the ground merely an inch away from your own. He had moved closer to you. Should you move your arm? Should you scoot away? Would he be offended?

You didn't want to move, you liked when he was close by. You felt safe with him. You finally spared a glance at him, his eyes were set on the horizon, his jaw clenched. You forced yourself to look away from him as you watched a bird fly over the field.

As you felt Red Harvest's arm slide against yours briefly as he settled closer to the ground, he still did not move away. He would never be this close to any of the others without being uncomfortable. Maybe you could attribute it to your friendship, to your bond.

Red Harvest seemed to trust you, to like you. He talked to you more than he did the others. Maybe it was because you could speak his language better than the others.

But that didn't necessarily attribute to the fact he told you about his past, his family, what had happened when he left. You told him about your past in return, and he listened carefully. You knew things about each other none of the others did. And you always trusted the other to have your back.

Chisolm said it was because he found a likeness in you, an unspoken bond that brought you together. Faraday said it was because he had a crush on you. "If only." You caught yourself thinking.

But sometimes you thought maybe that was it. When you would catch Red Harvest watching you from afar, or checking in on you. If you didn't eat much, he would slide his plate to you, or put a piece of his bread on your plate. He cared for you in ways you did not expect. Maybe it was more than just trust he held for you. You could hope, at least.

Your thoughts suddenly vanished as a flock of birds nearby shot into the sky. Your body flinched as you reached for your gun instinctively. Red Harvest stiffened beside you as you both seemed to hold your breath.

On the other side of the fog, you saw something creeping closer. You squinted your eyes, trying to see if it was someone on horseback, or maybe someone walking up through the field.

The anxiety in your chest rose, getting tighter and tighter, until, you and Red Harvest let out a breath at the same time, as a tall deer waded through the fog. Behind the large buck, a few more deer, following close behind.

You hung your head, letting your forehead rest on the ground for a moment. You knew Red Harvest looked over at you as you did so. You shook your head and almost laughed. Looking back up, you admired the deer as they walked towards the stream.

"I think it's safe to say they are not here yet." Red Harvest finally spoke.

You looked over at him and met his eyes, you nodded before relaxing your hands, and letting go of your gun. "Part of me hopes they never come." You admitted softly.

Red Harvest watched you for a moment before nodding silently.

This new gang you were up against were cruel. They burned down a shop full of people just because the shop owner wouldn't sell them guns they didn't have. They would come through the town almost every year, tearing half of it down as they did. And now you were going to do something it.

But these men would do anything to protect themselves, they would kill anyone who stood in there way. It would he a heavy fight, dangerous, and all of you knew that someone might not make it out.

Your thoughts were once again diminished. But this time, not by a sudden flock of birds or movement in the distance. Your eyes lingered on Red Harvest's hand. His hand was partially on your own. Did he realize? You looked over at him out of the corner of your eye. He was looking straight ahead. Did he see something? You looked forward, into the fog. You saw nothing, heard nothing.

You looked back down at your hands, his hands were softer than you were expecting. You shook the thought away. Was it an accident?

Suddenly his hand moved over yours completely, before his fingers flexed, grabbing your own lightly. Your heart seemed to freeze as your breath hitched.

Finally, you looked over at him. You were going to ask if something was wrong, if he heard something. But when he looked at you, your words died on your tongue. His eyes held something you didn't recognize. His hand squeezed yours ever-so-lightly before he spoke, softly, almost a whisper.

"It's going to be okay." You remained silent, your eyes locked with his. He continued. "No matter how many of them come, we can beat them. Together."

You were lost for words for a moment, before you nodded slightly. "Together." You repeated, and for some reason, it felt like a promise, like the sealing of fate no one could change.

His eyes stayed locked with yours, neither of you blinked or looked away, you both seemed stuck in each others gaze. Something unspoken was happening between you as his hands tightened around yours, as though he was afraid to let go.

Suddenly, like a shock of electricity, you realized what it was you were feeling. And at the same moment, he felt it too. It came to both of you quickly, taking over in a rush of confusion and fear. You didn't just trust each other. It was more. More than trust, or a bond you felt the moment you met. It was love. Or at least the beginnings of it.

Before either of you could voice your realizations, the distant sound of hoof-beats sounded over the silent field. Your eyes widened a bit as you both looked out. The fog was beginning to thin as the sun rose in the sky, bringing with it warmth of the day.

You didn't need to wait around to know who was coming. It wasn't just a single horse, it was a dozen.

Red Harvest did not let go of your hand, but instead yanked you up. You both ran, crouched down, into the trees to get to your horses. You had a short cut to get back to town before the gang.

For now, what happened with Red Harvest would have to wait. But you were more willing to fight your way out of this than you had been before. You had more to fight for now. A question unanswered, a confession unspoken, that you did not want to die waiting for.

- - - - -

You let out a deep breath as you watched some of the locals pass by, carrying tools and wood towards the damaged school house. Across the street, the kids and their mothers carried around bandages for the wounded, and water to put out any remaining fires.

Your body ached and your head pounded if you looked around too fast. The adrenaline from the fight had finally faded, and you were left feeling like you had sprinted across miles of land.

The plan went surprisingly smooth, the gang ended up being just as surprisingly dumb. They made too many mistakes, got too angry, let their guards down too many times. And now it was over.

Vasquez got shot in the leg, Faraday got a black eye and a busted lip. Goody and Billy got grazed here and there. Jack, Chisolm and Red Harvest were unscathed as per usual.

And you, having had a run in with a rather unnaturally large gang member, ended up throwing yourself, and the man, out of a window. It, having been your plan, allowed you the opportunity to grab onto the edge of the window before climbing back in safely. However, glass had dug into your hands and left you with some bloody palms. Not ideal for a gunfight, but you managed well enough. Especially when anyone who tried to sneak up on you fell to the ground with an arrow in their back before they got to you.

You cursed to yourself as you dropped the bandage roll for the third time as you tried to wrap with your wounded and non-dominant hand. As you moved to grab the bandage, another hand swooped in and grabbed it first.

Looking up, you met with Red Harvest's familiar dark brown eyes. He moved to sit on the steps beside you as he dusted off the bandage. Suddenly your heart was beating again, as a new kind of adrenaline rushed through you.

Red Harvest gently grabbed your hand before he began to fix the poor wrapping job you did.

"Thank you." You said softly with a smile.

You caught the ghost of a smile pass his lips as he nodded. "Did you clean them?" He asked.

"Yes." You said, trying not to smile. He always asked that, even though you always did.

"I saw what you did." He continued. "It was risky. If you had not grabbed the window, you would have been badly hurt."

You shrugged, "I would have been either way. So it was either go out the window, or go up against that Goliath on my own. I know how to pick my fights."

Another ghost of a smile played on his lips. Catching yourself staring, you looked down at your hands, watching as he carefully handled them, not wanting to hurt you.

"Why were you watching the hotel?" You asked, realizing that he must have been to see what happened. Though you both knew he was supposed to be watching the church.

You saw his hands hesitate for a moment. "I saw the man go in. I knew you were inside."

"You were watching out for me. To make sure I came back out." You said softly. Not an accusation, or question.

He was silent for a moment before he nodded a bit. "I'm always watching out for you."

"Yeah, you are." You said softly, counting the many times he was always there when you needed him. As if he always knew. "Why?" You asked softly.

He tucked the end of the bandage so it would not unravel, he did not let go of your hand. He stared at your hands as he spoke.

"Chisolm says that maybe there is an unspoken bond between us. A connection that existed before we ever met, that maybe its the reason we were brought together like this. Why our paths are so different than what they were once. And why, we seem to know each other so well."

Your heart pounded so heavily in your chest you could hear it. "Do you believe him?"

"I don't know. I do not wish to guess at what my path is, but I wish to follow wherever it may lead. And whether or not it led to you, or you are simply a moment on the way, I am glad we met, I am glad you are here."

You smiled at him. "I am too."

"But there is something else."

"What's that?"

"I do not wish what I feel to remain unspoken, but-" he hesitated, and you saw a flash of frustration cross his face as he looked at his feet. "I am unsure of how- how to."

You squeezed his hand a little bit and he looked back into your eyes. "It's not unspoken. Not really. You've said it a dozen times in a dozen different ways. When you ask if I am okay. When you ask if I ate, or cleaned my wounds. When you chastise me for making a bad decision."

He smiled, not the ghost of a smile, but an actual one. "When I asked Chisolm to let you come with me to watch for the gang." He said softly, your eyes widened with realization. Before you could speak he continued. "Or...when you tell me not to disappear randomly without saying goodbye. Or ask if I need help collecting my arrows." He added on, and you smiled, nodding.

Your eyes locked steadily again, and just as it felt in the field before, that jolt of electricity passed between you again. What both of you felt didn't need to be said in any specific way. Not completely. Because you both felt it. That bond that seemed to push you together. Spoken, or unspoken, you knew.

xx End xx

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging! This is a fairly small fandom, so any reblog helps tremendously with getting it spread around.

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfireMagnificent Seven Taglist: @spuffyfan394 - let me know if you want to be added.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

We Survived

Fandom: Magnificent Seven

Pairing: Billy Rocks x Reader

Warning: Injury

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @thequeenofthehobbits

Summary/Request: Requested by @coldpapernightmare:  it says request are open, so could I trouble you for a Reader/Billy Rocks from Magnificent Seven where the reader is nursing him after the battle ( everyone lives AU of course)

“I don’t know how you can be so quiet...this has to hurt?” You look up at Billy from where you’re stitching a wound shut, it’s long and deep and refused to stop bleeding without some form of aid. You stepped up to the plate, you knew how to sow clothes so why would skin be any different? 

“It does, I just-” He grunted as you pulled slightly too hard on the wound, apologising to him as you did so, “-would rather be quiet.” You nodded at his words. 

It was a miracle any of them had survived, the fact that they had all done so, won the day and only walked out with a few injuries really was a miracle, it truly placed all seven men as magnificent. You enjoyed their company, Billy especially. He was quiet, but always had a quip at hand when he needed it. He made you feel calm, you didn’t need to speak around him or do anything in particular. You could just be you. 

“We survived.”

“You did...and now you have the rest of your lives to do with as you wish.” Part of you was sad at the prospect of all of them leaving town, Billy especially. They had become part of the town in a way and so many of them could go onward, wandering the land and finding more mischief. You wanted them, Billy, to stay. 

“I think I might stay.”

“Oh?” You look up at him and he’s smiling at you. It makes you overly conscious of yourself and everything you are doing. 

“There’s someone I want to stick around for.” It’s not explicit, it’s not outright said, but you gather that that person is you and you find it hard to focus back on fixing his wounds with the awareness that he wants to stay because of you.

But you’re happy. You all survived and now...and now you could make something more of your life. With Billy, maybe.

[bonkers-4-hatter]

The Magnificent Seven Masterlist

Billy Rocks 

⇸ Billy Rocks X !Fat Reader - Holiday Surprises 

Red Harvest 

⇸ Red Harvest X !Fat Reader - Giddy Up

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

21/50 Kisses: On a Place of Insecurity

Goodnight Robicheaux x reader

Word Count: 301

He was having a hard time with this, and it was alarmingly easy for you to tell that as he was packing his gear onto his horse before he and Billy started the journey with the others for Rose Creek. After everything the great Goodnight Robicheaux had been through, you weren’t that surprised, but it was still unnerving to see such a charming, confident man struggle to tie his bags onto the horse because his hands simply wouldn’t stop shaking. So, wordlessly, you approached him and gently took his hands in yours to press a tender kiss to each in turn.

“You don’t have to do this, Goody,” you breathed. You knew it wasn’t true; he owed Sam Chisolm this much.

“Now, I know you know that isn’t true, mon cher,” he murmured back. “These old hands of mine will be fine, don’t you worry.”

“It’s not the hands I’m worried about,” you insisted, staring up at him pleadingly. “It’s the mind attached to them.”

“Well, that’ll be fine, too. Mr. Chisolm needs me, and I’ll be damned if I leave that stupid bastard to die.”

You closed your eyes with a soft exhale. “If you must . . . Just promise me that you’ll be careful.”

“Always.”

“And if it gets to be too much don’t hesitate to come back to me.”

“Now that might be harder. You know I don’t do well with the coward state of mind.”

“It’s not cowardice to choose where to die. Every man has the right to that much.”

Goodnight chuckled a little. “You sure you ain’t ever met Sam? He says that quite a lot.”

“Just . . . be careful. Please.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” He pressed a bittersweet kiss to your lips. “Don’t miss me too much, sugar. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You’d better be.”

[atomic--peach]

Imagine Vasquez not realizing you speak Spanish and deciding to mess with him.  

(Disclaimer, I haven’t taken a Spanish class since high school, so if I butcher these sentences, know that I did my best with what I had. Which is two years of mediocre high school Spanish and an American key board)

“Holla, bella.” 

You rolled your eyes at the lean Mexican that glances back at you as you toted another round of drinks to the table of men. 

“Trajiste otro regalo para mi?” He chuckled as you set the drinks down on the table. 

“Careful” you warned him, “Too many more and no one will be able to understand you.” 

“Pfff.” He waved the remark off, “What difference does it make? A few more of these, and the only language I’ll know is the language of love” 

He let out a bellowing laugh with his friends and you scoffed. 

“When drunk cowboys start talking about love, then it’s time for me to make myself scarce” You informed them, bending down to taking Vasquez’s empty glass, your head close to the side of his face.

“Asegurate de no perder la busqueda de tu habitacion.” You whispered in his head, smirking at the sight of him tensing up. “Quien sabe que tipo de travesuras pueden pasar si te tropiezas con la habitacion equivocada.”

Vasquez twisted in his chair to look at your as you retreated behind the bar, his mouth slightly agape. 

“Hey, hey, hey, you can’t just say something like that and walk off!” He protested, drawing the attention of the others. 

You pouted innocently and shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The cow boy blinked and began to protest before Goodnight cut in. 

“Ah, leave her be. We’ve taken up too much of her time tonight anyway.” He grunted and sat up, stretching. “Boys, I believe it’s time to take our leave.” 

The southern gentleman nodded in your direction respectfully, “Ma’am”

You nodded and back and watched them file up the stairs to their rooms, Vasquez lagging behind. 

He stared at you, whiskey in his brain making him wonder if he had simply imagined your voice in his ear. You shot him a sly smile and poured yourself a whiskey, raising it in salute to him before tossing it back. 

He grunted and shuffled his feet before shaking a finger in your direction. 

“Diablo mujer, sera la muerte de mi” He growled and your laughed. 

“Duerme bien.” you laughed. “Maybe when you’ll wake up this will all be a dream”

“Where are you from?” He asked curiously,  “You speak so well.”

“Chihuahua” You smirked, “You better be careful this close to the border, those cowboys may not understand what you’re saying but one day you’re gonna find someone that does.” 

“well” Vasquez shrugged sheepishly. “I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, huh?” He eyed the whiskey bottle in your hand. 

“Can I bother you for a shot for the road?”

“Don’t think so cowboy.” You scoffed and poured yourself another. Vasquez scoff and nodded, starting to turn before you stopped him. 

“Pero.” You smirked, “Si subes conmigo, te mostrare lo que me puedes molestar.” 

Vasquez grinned as you tossed back the drink and closed up the bar quickly to show him just what kind of mischief could happen this time of night. 

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2022: October 15th

Day 15: Cuckolding // Face Sitting // Sex Toys

Oberyn Martell x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Sex Toys, object insertion, mentions of piercings 

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“My prince.” Your eyes are wide and you look down into the wooden box in wonder, reaching out and tracing the smooth and polished glass. It is gorgeous and yet you are not quite sure what it is for. It looks like a cock and you wonder if it is just your sexual nature that makes you think that. 

Oberyn chuckles, leaning over your shoulder and pressing his lips to your neck. “Do you know what it is, Dove?” He hums, letting his lips linger and pressing his tongue to your skin to taste you. His hands, woefully missed while he had been away, slip under the thin gown you are wearing and caress your hip before seeking your cunt. 

“It looks like a cock.” You blurt out, reaching for the object again and pulling it out of the soft linens it is nestled in and hefting the weight in your palm. 

“It is, my love.” He chuckles again, fingers sliding through the curls of your sex and finding your clit. “I found the most amazing merchant in Bravos.” He hums, enjoying the way that your hand tightens around the glass so you do not drop it when he starts to rub your clit slowly. “This is a cock that will never soften, always be ready to slide inside your cunt and satisfy you when no one is available to fill it.” He reasons. “Or to play with partners with.” 

You moan quietly, imagining the different ways you could use it with Oberyn and others. “That would be very entertaining.” 

His fingers push between your legs more, finding your entrance and slowly starting to push into you. “This merchant had more.” He confides in your ear. “I bought one of everything he had. Some to go in your ass, perhaps Harron will like the one that would allow you to fuck him while my cock is down his throat.” He had bought a contraption that winds around your hips and buckles to allow the cock made of soft leather to sit on top of your mound as if you were born with one instead of cunt. 

You moan, imagining how the male lover you frequently had in your bed would look with your hips flush against his and that piece pressed deep inside his ass. “You did?” You ask breathlessly as his thick fingers work in and out of your wet cunt. 

“I did.” He hums, not bothering to stop while his servants bring in trunks and boxes, presumably with the items he had bought from this merchant. He knows you will be curious, wanting to see and try everything that he had brought back from his journey. You were magnificent that way. 

“I will like that.” You admit, leaning back against his chest and you let go of the glass cock when you feel him pry it from your fingers. Gasping when he slides it against your clit. Still the servants are coming and going from your chambers but Oberyn pays them no mind. He would fuck you in front of the Seven Kingdoms if he wished, having no shame of his sexual appetite or acting on it. 

“It is hard.” You murmur, your clit pulsing from the coolness of the toy in his hand and the warmth of his fingers still pumping into your slick walls. 

You can feel his smirk against your skin. “I know, but concentrate on the toy.” He coos in your ear, pulling his fingers out of your cunt and starting to slide it inside you in their place. 

It feels different, more rigid inside you. It doesn’t pulse like a cock or curl up like fingers. Your walls must yield to it and they do, but it is unlike when you are split open on hot, thick live cock. 

“Oberyn.” You moan, feeling his hard cock grinding against your ass while the toy pushes deeper inside you. 

“You are going to look so good with all the toys, my Dove.” He murmurs. “Wearing them, fucking them, fucking others - even me - with them.” 

Keening at the idea of using this on him, you roll your hips down. Taking more and feeling the slick of your arousal coat the glass and make it easier. His hand slides up and pushes the fabric aside to cup your breast. 

“There were other things I found.” He whispers into your ear. “Piercing your nipples as you would your ears is supposed to bring pleasure.” He pinches your nipple and makes you moan. “Imagine the jewels of Dorne hanging from your tits and tugging at them.” He pulls on your nipple gently as if it were weighed down by the weight of gold. “You would moan and squirm on whatever face or cock you are riding happily.”

You can't deny that. Your tits are sensitive and you love having them sucked on and bitten. Tugged and pinched. You bite your lip as you imagine the pain and pleasure that would come from what he is talking about. “Perhaps you should pierce yours as well, my love.” You turn and press your lips to his jaw. His cock twitches in interest at the idea, making you grin as you kiss his jaw again. 

“Maybe I will.” He teases, pinching your nipple again and leaning in to bite your neck as he works the glass cock in and out of you, slow at first and then quicker when he feels your legs spread wider to accommodate his hands and the toy. “Right now, I want you to cum for me like this.” He coos, steadily fucking the toy into you while your eyes close and you moan his name. 

He will fuck you like this, then he will sink into you, fill you with his cock while you try the smaller glass toy in your ass. He wants to see it, to feel it. Then you would explore the other toys he had brought home to use on you and all the other various lovers that joined you in the bed you share. He will have to make a trip back to Bravos soon, or show the toys to some merchants here in Dorne. Surely others would enjoy this just as much. 

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Found You

Not my Gif

Vasquez x Reader, Soulmate AU, Lots of Angst

AO3 Link/ Support Me on Ko-fi

Summary: You’ve been searching for your soulmate your whole life, but this wasn’t how you expected to find him.

A/N:  This was originally intended to be part of Mag 7 Week, but I wasn’t able to finish it in time.  This turned out a lot angsty than I originally intended, so tell me if you want a sequel with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.6 K

           A bolt of electricity, that’s how your mother always described it.  It starts with where ever they touch you and spreads all over your body, and when you look at them, it’s like the world starts over again.

           You always loved it whenever your mother told you about meeting your father for the first time.  She’d get a faraway look in her eye and any troubles of the day would melt away in an instant.  She always promised that someday you would experience the same thing.  You would meet your soulmate and your drab black and white world would burst with color.

          You tried to get her to described it to you, but to no avail.  She’d simply say you’d have to wait and see, but you were always an impatient child. You made a habit of brushing against people on the street. You’d spread your hands wide hoping somebody might bump into you and strike your body with lightning, but it never came.

           As you got older, you were told such behavior was immature.  You couldn’t force your hand.  You had to let the universe guide you.  

You always countered by saying the universe was guiding you to brush your hands with strangers.  Some people found it funny, but most adults thought you were just being a smart mouth. You weren’t deterred though. Your soulmate was out there somewhere, and nobody was going to tell you to just sit and wait.

           When you were eighteen, you got the sudden urge to move.  You didn’t know where it came from.  The four walls of your room felt confining.  The house you lived in too restrictive.  The city too crowded.  

          You had been reading about the west: the open spaces, the mountains, the never-ending valleys and the men and women who made it their home.  You thought about your soulmate and how they couldn’t possibly be from the city.  You could feel it in your bones.  You needed to get out there.  You couldn’t articulate why, but the need burned in your heart stronger than anything you had ever experience before.  You packed your things that night and bought a ticket the next morning.  

          You left a note for your mother, explaining everything.  You promised to write and told her you would be careful and that you hoped she would understand.  It would all work out, you promised.  Your soulmate was out there.  You knew it.

          Oh, how naïve you were then.

          You arrived in California with a single suitcase and barely a fist full of dollars to your name.  You had fantasized meeting your soulmate somewhere on the station platform.  You thought maybe it could be the coach driver or some handsome cowboy on the street, but the longer you stayed the more your faith wavered.

          You got a job at the local saloon, thinking it would be the best place to meet new people coming into town, but it never sat well with you.  Something about the place never felt right, until one morning you felt that same push telling you it was time to move on.  You saved up enough money for a horse and rode your way out of town.

          After a while, you stopped keeping track of how many towns you wandered into; how many bars you worked in, how many supply shops, how many farms, all in the same black and white. You weren’t even sure how long you had been out west, but you were no closer to finding your soulmate then you were when you were eight years old brushing up against strangers on the street.  

          There were times you wondered if you should cut your losses and go back home, but you always found a reason to stay. You had made life for yourself out west, an odd life, but still a life that was unapologetically yours.  You didn’t belong to anyone or anything.  The only thing that truly controlled you was the white-hot need in your chest that overruled any doubt that crept into your mind.

          Your travels eventually took you to a small town in the hills not far out of San Francisco.  You had been there a few months, the longest you had stayed anywhere since you first arrived out west.  The people in the town recognized you my name.  Even the store keeper you had been working for trusted you to lock up on certain nights after closing.

          You tried to fight the twisting feeling of anticipation in your stomach. Staying didn’t mean anything.  It just meant you hadn’t felt the need to move in a while.  It had nothing to do with your soulmate, or so you kept telling yourself. Still, it didn’t stop you from lying awake at night, starring at the ceiling wondering where they were at that moment, and if they were thinking of you too.

          You went about your day as usual in the shop, filling out orders and straightening things up.  Soon enough the last of the customer’s left as the sun was going down leaving you alone to close everything up.

          You were straightening up the front displays when you heard the sound of horse hooves coming down the street. You looked out and saw some of the sheriff and his deputies going through the streets.  Some staying behind to check the alleys while a few more rode on past the shop.  

          Your heart started to beat a little faster in your chest. You went to the front door, locking it and closing the curtains.  Whatever trouble was outside, you defiantly didn’t want it coming in. You finished up the last of the sweeping in the front room and looked around going through a mental check list of everything you had to do.  It was then your stomach dropped out from under you.

          The back room.  You had a supply come in earlier that day.  You forgot to lock the back door.

          You immediately ran to the back, opening the door wide. The only light available came from the lanterns in the front room, but it was just enough for you to see the backdoor.  

          You breathed a small sigh of relief to see it was still closed.

          You crossed the space in a second, locking the door with a hard click. The moment you did, your body relaxed.  You were sure the owner wouldn’t mind if you stayed the night since the sheriff was scouring the streets.

          You turned back towards the front when a small movement caught your eye. You looked back, you heart stopping.

          In the darkness, you could just make out the silhouette of a large man towering in the corner.

          You froze. Your throat tightened so you couldn’t even scream. All you could do was stand wide eyed and completely unarmed.

          To you surprise, the man raised his hands, and cautiously stepped into the light.

          “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly.

          To your own surprise, you didn’t move. A strange curiosity took over, silencing your instincts to run. You could make out the outline of a strong jaw, lightly covered in a three day scruff, and well as the reflection of clear dark eyes. His voice was low and calm, and carried a distinct Mexican accent.  

          Despite circumstances, his entire being put you oddly at ease. His features were just as calm as his voice, but you could tell he was examining you in the same way you were examining him.  You looked further down taking in the rest of him.  You were starting to appreciate just how tall he actually was when two glints of metal caught your attention.

          You felt your heart beat pick up again, finally noticing the two guns hanging off his belt.

          Without a second thought you bolted.

          You only got a few paces when you felt the man grab your arm pulling you back.

          You tried to yank out of his grip, but he held and you tight and pushed your back against the shelving along the wall.  

          “Get off me!” you shouted, struggling against him.

          “Quiet,” he snapped.

          His hands gripped your arms to your sides as he used his whole body to keep you trapped.  You fought back anyway, trying to kick and wriggle your way out.

          “Let me go!  Let me go you son of a bitch!”

          “Silencio!  I’m not going to hurt you.”

          You kept on anyway, as you tried to twist your arms out of his grip.

          “Listen to me,” he said. “Look at me.”

          He gave your shoulders a quick shake forcing you to look at him.

          You were taken aback by the sight.  In your struggles, you hadn’t noticed just how close he was to you. His face hovering just a few inches from yours. There was something in his face.  He wasn’t threatening you.  His eyes were more desperate than that.

          “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice going calm once again.  “But I need you to be quiet.”

          You opened your mouth to say something smart when a knock came at the door.

          Before you could even decide if you were going to call for help, the man pressed his hand over your mouth.

          The moment his hand touched your skin, you felt it. The bolt of electricity starting from his fingers and moving all the way across your face and down your spine until you felt it throughout your whole body.  

           Your initial instinct was to pull away, but he kept his hand where it was. You stared at each other, his face looking just as shocked as you felt.  It was then you saw it.  

          The black of his eyes dissolved away revealing a mesmerizing shade of dark brown. You remained transfixed of them, even as the color continued across his face and down his body.  You hardly noticed the tone of the room shift from harsh white light to soft golden yellows.

          You couldn’t look away.  You hadn’t realized how much the slightest shift in color could make such a difference in how one saw a person.  His eyes weren’t dark and intimidating, they were soulful, unwavering, and quite simply, the most beautiful things you had ever seen in your life.

          He couldn’t seem to look away from you either.  His whole body was stiff with shock.  He stared at you in complete wonder.  He looked down towards you lips, and quickly jerked his hand away as if suddenly aware of what he was doing.

          You caught his hand, holding it in the small space between your faces.

          You needed him close.  You couldn’t say why, but you needed to touch him.  You needed to make sure he was real.

          Another knock came at the door, startling you both out of your thoughts.

          The man turned his head towards the door, as he free hand went for his gun.

          “No,” you said quietly, but firmly.

          He looked to you, surprise evident on his face.

          “Let me take care of it,” you said.

          He opened his mouth to protest when another knock came at the door.

          “Y/N,” a voice called.

          The man looked back to you, uncertainly.

          “Trust me,” you whispered.

          He stared at you for a moment, looking your face over.  Then, reluctantly, he nodded.

          You gave a small smile in appreciation, just as one more knock came to the door.

          “Y/N, you in there?” the voice asked.

          “Coming,” you shouted towards the door, before turning back to the man. “Stay here.”

          He gave a small nod as you slipped past him, closing the back door partially behind you.  You tried not the focus on the small burst of color from one of the piles of fabric, or the blue lettering of the prices thrown about the store.  

          Keeping your breathing steady, you unlocked the front door.

One of the sheriff deputies, George, stood in front of you looking rather nervous.

          “Sorry to bother you Y/N, just, I saw the lights were still on and I figured I’d just make sure you were alright.”

          You gave an easy smile, trying your best to look relaxed.

          “I was just cleaning up in back,” you said.  “Why something wrong?”

          “Outlaw came ridding into town,” George said.  “Apparently he killed a ranger back in Texas or something.  He was spotted in the saloon, but he split before we could get there.  Thought he might be hiding somewhere in town.”

          You felt your heart rate spike at the news.

          “Wouldn’t he had bolted?” you asked.

          “We were on him pretty fast,” George explained. “Don’t think he had time to get his horse.  This is just a formality, but have you seen anything?”

          The logical part of your brain told you this was exact moment to tell George the truth.

          Soulmate or not he killed a man.  You didn’t know him.  Hell, you didn’t even know his name. But the words caught in your throat.  

          Killer or not, he was your soulmate.  You couldn’t let him hang, not without talking to him, not without at least learning his name.  You had spent so long looking, you couldn’t lose him now.

          “No,” you said, “been quite all night.”

          George nodded his head.

          “Alright, well, do you need as escort home?”

          “No, I’m alright,” you said sweetly.  “Think I’ll just stay here the night until it all blows over.”

          George looked uncertain, but he nodded his head in understanding.

          “Well, if you say so,” he said.  “But you be needing anything, give me a holler.”

          “I will,” you promised.  “Good luck.”

          George smiled in thanks, and walked his way back to his horse and rode off into the night.  

          Just as he was out of sight, you closed the front door again, locking it behind you.  You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding.  Your fingers shook slightly around the door handle as you tried to get a grip on yourself.  

          It was then you heard the back-room door open behind you followed by a pair of heavy boot steps.

          “Are you alright,” the man asked.

          You straightened up, and turned look at him.

          He looked strangely vulnerable now you were able to see him fully, almost awkward. It was as if he didn’t know where to put his hands, as he shifted back and forth in his stance.  It was hard to imagine not a moment ago the same man put you in fear for your life.

          “Yes and no,” you said.  “Is it bad I don’t feel guilty about lying?”

          “I think the fact that you asked me that, says you’re a better person than most,” he said.

          A silence fell between you as a question held unsaid in the air.  You waited for him to say something, but it was clear he wasn’t going to say a word unless you asked.

          “He said you killed someone,” you said carefully. “Did you?”

          His jaw clench, but he didn’t look angry with you, rather a memory he would never be able to shake.

          “Yes.”

          “Can I ask why?”

          “He hurt my family,” he said simply. “I was trying to keep them safe. Didn’t do much good in the end.”

          You look him over carefully, looking for a lie, but you couldn’t find any. His emotions were to raw and real to be anything else.

          “Sounds like he had it coming then,” you said.

          He looked at you in surprise.  Hell, you surprised yourself, but you knew you meant it as soon as the words left your mouth.

          He looked over your face searching for something you couldn’t name. His whole body strained, divided between closing the space between you and staying where he stood.  

          You wanted desperately to know what he was thinking.

          His eyes moved away from you.  You felt the shift immediately as he took a step back.

          “I have to go.”

          “Wait!”

          He stopped before he could even turn away, as he looked at you with a strange look.

          You didn’t intend to sound as desperate as you did, but it couldn’t be helped.

          “Please,” you said softly. “I’ve been looking for you for so long.  Please, I just want to talk to you.  At least give me your name.”

          For a brief moment, you thought he wouldn’t tell you, that he would go off into the night and you would never see him again, but he stayed.

          “Vasquez,” he said.

          You felt a small smile spread across your face at the sound of it.

          “You got a first name to go with that?” you asked.

          “Not one I usually give,” he said.  

          You could tell he meant the words to come out harsher than they did, but he tone was too defeated to have it any real bite.

          His head began to shake as his eyes drifted from your face and down to the floor.

          “I wasn’t expecting to find you,” he confessed.

          You felt yourself freeze.  The words sunk through your skin and into your heart.  Your throat grew tight with emotion as your mind tried to catch up with your feelings.

          “You mean you didn’t want to find me,” you said.

          Saying out loud hurt more than you expected, but the look on his face made it even worse.

          “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

          “And what am I thinking?”

          His expression grew soft as he looked at you.

          “You’re more than I could have hoped for,” he said. “But I can’t be responsible for someone else, especially not you.”

          Your mind finally settled on anger as you straightened your stance.

          “I can look after myself.”

          “That’s not the point.”

          “Then what?” you snapped. “You’re my soulmate.  Life or death, right or wrong, it doesn’t matter, that is a fact. Do you really expect for me to just forget you?”

          “You have to,” he retorted.  “You’ve gone this long without me.  You don’t need me for the rest.”

          You didn’t want to believe your ears.  You shook your head as if that would somehow knock the words out of your mind.

          “But I found you,” you said, sounding as lost as you felt.

          Vasquez didn’t say anything, but he didn’t walk away either.  The conflict still raged on in his features, but his body wasn’t as ridged as before.

          Taking a chance, you took a small step towards him.  

          He didn’t move.  

          You took another, and then another and another until there was only a foot between you.

          He couldn’t meet your eyes.  

          Cautiously, you reached out and gently took his hand in yours.  

          You felt the same electricity again, subtler this time, but still there. You didn’t feel the need to jerk away and to your surprise, neither did Vasquez.

          His grip tightened around yours as he ran his thumb across your skin. It felt nice, natural, as if you had been doing it your whole lives.

          “I know it will be hard,” you said quietly. “But can’t we just try?”

          The silence persisted.  You glanced up surprised to see his eyes staring down at you.

          He took a small step towards you as his hand reached out, cupping your cheek as if you were made of glass.  

          You closed your eyes as you leaned into his touch.  You were home. You felt the need evaporate from your chest.  You wouldn’t have to wander anymore.  You found him.

          You opened your eyes meeting his once more.  

          There was hardly any space between you.  You could feel his warm from his body and breath play against your skin.  All if would take was one of you to lean forward to taste the other.  You wanted to.  You never wanted something so desperately in your life, but you didn’t move.  It was up to him.

          The tension held thick in the air.

          His eyes shifted subtly to your lips.  Your eyes closed as he leaned forward.  But his lips never touched yours.

          His grip on your cheek tightened as if struggling to find some kind of balance. He was only a hair’s distance away from you, you could feel his warm breath against your lips.

          “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I can’t.”

          You couldn’t breathe.  You couldn’t move.  You were certain you heart stopped beating in your chest.

          You felt him pull away from you and a coldness you never knew before took over your body.  You didn’t know what to do.

          Finally, you opened your eyes.

          Devastation and a desperate need for you to understand stood strongly on his face.  

          You hated it.  How dare he look at you as if he wasn’t the one ripping out your heart.  How dare he think he was the one being hurt the most by his actions.  Hot tears spilled down your face as your throat grew tight.

            “You’re a coward,” you spat.

          He looked at you in complete an utter silence.  He couldn’t even defend himself. He turned his back to you, making his way towards the backroom.

          “I’ll call the sheriff on you,” you shouted after him.  “So help me God, I will.”

          He stopped in his tracks, but it wasn’t out of fear.  He glanced over his shoulder as a look of pity took over his features.

          “No, you won’t,” he said.

          You wanted to prove him wrong.  You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs.  You wanted to make him stay, but you knew you couldn’t.  You couldn’t watch him die, not for anything.

          Without another word, he walked out the door.

          The sounds of the night took over your world once more.  The emptiness of the room and the world felt more apparent to you then ever. The colors of fabric, the bright store signs and the warmth of the candles all tormented you as the burning need started pressing into your heart.  

          You ignored it.  You wouldn’t let it control you anymore.  You couldn’t let it.

          He was gone, and you would never see him again.

[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 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

⇥ Masterlist | Like my work? Consider buying me a Kofi!

[octopodeez]

Faraday + Ocean, please??

You saw it happen. You saw it happen. But still, as Faraday sauntered innocently in your direction, you asked. 

“What did you do?” 

Faraday ignored the question and took a swig of your drink, despite having one of his own in the opposite hand. You waited patiently for him to finish. There was, after all, nothing for you to worry about. You hadn’t just cheated two agitated, drunk cowboys out of thirty dollars. 

“You’re askin’ me with that voice you use when you think I’ve done something wrong,” Faraday moved to set your glass back down, paused thoughtfully, and then polished the whole thing off. 

You shrugged, unfazed, and pushed two bits to the crotchety bartender, who was starting to eye you both with suspicion. 

“So you’re saying there’s nothing wrong? Absolutely nothing wrong?”

“Eh,” there was an uncertainty creeping over his voice while he placed his hand on your lower back to usher you out of the saloon. “So far, so good.” 

Faraday’s timing was perfect, as it usually was in these situations. The moment the doors swung shut, curses could be heard coming from within.

God dammit I knew he cheated, where’d that sonofabitch go!?

“Yeah?” You bit back a smile as he urged you to move a bit faster. “So those boys back there noticing you had a few extra aces up your sleeve is nothing?” 

“If you saw it happen, then why did you ask?” 

“Because I like to try making your life as difficult as you make mine.” 

“And how’s that workin’ out?” He sounded smug as he lit a cigarette. You found in times like this that the more laid-back Faraday was, the worse off things actually were. If his indications were at all telling of the situation at hand…he’d really fucked up. 

“There’s never a dull day.” 

“That’s what I like to hear! Let’s head West this time. I hear there’s gold in California. And I ain’t never seen the ocean before. I think it might be nice.”  

You sped up as the angry voices lurking in the saloon grew closer.  This was a shitty way to live, and you thought about that every day. Drifting. Stealing. Running. It was a cycle that never ended. 

But god damn, was it fun. 

In case anyone was wondering, this is the first time I’ve written something longer than 30 words in like two months, god bless.

[make-me-imagine]

What's Mine is Yours

Prompt: "Is that my shirt?" "You mean our shirt." Requested By: @youngcroissantturkeyworribler

Pairing: Billy Rocks x GN!Reader

Warnings: None, just a short cute fluffy drabble.

Word Count: 812

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire Mag7 Taglist: @spuffyfan394

-

Billy looked around the room as he entered, he frowned a little as he saw it was empty. You must still be out.

Sliding off his weapon's belt, and taking off his jacket, he sat down, letting out a deep breath. He tapped his fingers on the table a few times as he looked around the room. It was a decent size, bigger than some of the hotels you had been staying at recently.

Billy looked out the window, down at the street, wondering if he'd see you coming down the road. He had spent the whole day with Goody and Chisolm. He was tired, and hungry, but the main thing he wanted, was to see you.

Ever since the group took on this new job, he hadn't been able to see you much during the days. And even though he spent every night with you, he still missed you.

He must have missed seeing you walk to the hotel, because he heard the doorknob jiggle. His eyes shot to the door, the paranoid part of him glanced at his gun, noting how fast he could get to it in case. But as you stepped into the room, the thought faded completely.

Your eyes landed on him and you smiled brightly, glad to see him. He smiled in return, noting your damp hair, and the dirty clothes in your arms. You must have been at the bath-house.

"Hey." You greeted as you threw your things down. "You guys done already?" You asked as you walked over to him.

He reached out his arms as you moved to sit down in his lap. His eyes grazed over you as he nodded. "Yes. Now I can spend the evening with you."

"Is that a promise?" You asked.

He smirked and kissed your cheek, "Yes. And if anyone comes to try and take me away, I'll shoot them."

You grinned as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Are you hungry?"

He nodded, but kept his arms tightly around you. "Wait a little, I just wanna be with you for a while."

His eyes grazed over you a bit, and he hesitated as he looked at the shirt you were donning. His lips curled up a bit as he spoke softly.

"Is that my shirt?"

You smiled at him. "You mean our shirt."

His brow shot up in a curious look as he met your eyes. "Our?"

You wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded. "Mhm. Don't you remember?"

He cocked his head slightly, and you saw the confusion in his eyes.

You cleared your throat lightly as you looked up at the ceiling, you spoke as if telling a story.

"Not too long after we got together, there was a day when I lost my best knife. I was disappointed, and annoyed because I needed one. You gave me one of your spares. I asked if you were sure I could use it, and you said 'What's mine-"

"Is yours." Billy finished your sentence as the memory came back. Paired with that memory, was another one. A time not too long later, when Billy ran out of water on a long trek. You gave him yours, he refused at first, stating he did not want to take your water. You smiled at him, giving him the water. "What's mine is yours."

He felt his heart pump a little heavier in his chest as you grinned down at him, an almost proud look on your face. He smiled and shook his head a bit, huffing out a dry laugh.

"I remember now. " He said softly, as he looked down at the shirt again, bringing his hand up, he messed with the top button for a moment as he smiled. "It's alright. It looks better on you anyways."

"If it makes you feel better, you can wear mine whenever you want." You tried to repress your smile, but as Billy gave you a deadpan look, you failed to hold it back.

He squeezed you close to him as he pressed a kiss to your neck. "You smell good." He commented as he began to stand up, taking you with him, but not letting you go.

You laughed as he brought you to the bed, lying you down, and lying down beside you. You hummed under your breath a bit as you tugged at the handkerchief around his neck. "Maybe you should go to the bathhouse too."

"Are you saying I smell?"

You smiled a little and met his eyes, "You smell like Faraday." He rose his brow again. "Like alcohol." You added on and he smiled a little.

"In that case, I definitely will." He said softly, before pulling you closer to him, "But not just yet."

You wrapped your arms around him, and buried your head in his neck. "No, not just yet."

xx End xx

Sorry it's so short, but I hope you enjoyed it!

If you did, please consider reblogging~ As this is a fairly small fandom, and it wont get much traction unless it's shared. :) <3

[purplelupins]

| MASTERLIST |

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE WITH ANYTHING MARKED AS NSFW/SMUT

Commissions are closed

Nora’s current obsessions

I write fem!reader inserts many fandoms that you can see below! Sometimes I take requests, but currently I am not.

Thank you!

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Harry Potter

Remus Lupin

-Hope (angst)

-In the Woods Somewhere(ON HOLD) (NSFW:adventure, violence, angst, fluff, smut)

Clothing page

***MASTER-LIST ***

Severus Snape

- In The Hall (Hurt/Comfort and fluff)

- Nothings Going to Hurt You (Comfort and fluff)

-The Wicked Game (smut)

•Part I

•Part II

•Part III

-Breathless (fluff, wife!professor!reader)

Sirius Black

-Twelve Years (hurt/comfort)

-The Tease (smut)

- His Angel

• part I

•part II (SMUT)

Fargo

V.M. Varga

-Obedience (smut)

•Part 1

•Part 2

•Part 3

•Part 4

•Part 5

Sweeney Todd

Judge Turpin

-Without You (slow burn with eventual smut) on hiatus

CAST

•Chapter 1

•Chapter 2

•Chapter 3

•Chapter 4

•Chapter 5

•Chapter 6

•Chapter 7

•Chapter 8

Woman in the Window

Allistair Russell

-Man in the Window (smut with plot) complete

• Part I

•Part II

•Part III

•Part IV

•Part V (final)

Don’t Breathe

Norman Nordstrom

- Every Breath You Take (smut. oneshot)

Shawshank Redemption

Andy Dufresne

-Sanctuary (smut)

The Black Phone

The Grabber

-Headcanons(sfw&nsfw)

-Sugar, Sugar(nsfw)

Part I

Part II

- Sweet Dreams (dark nsfw) complete

•Part I

• Part II

•Part III

• Part IV(smut)

•Part V (smut)

•Part VI (smut)

-My Pretty Girl (nsfw smut)

-Good Comes to Those Who Wait (dark nsfw smut)

-Happy together (ongoing) (dark Smut)

•Part I

•Part II

•Part III

The Magnificent Seven

Goodnight Robicheux

-Kiss of an Angel

•Part I

•Part II

The Quarry

Travis Hackett

-Bad Moon Rising

•Part I

• Part II

• Part III

• Part IV

Midnight Mass

Father Paul Hill

Lamb (masterlist)

- Part I

- Part II

- Part III

- Part IV

- Part V

-Part VI

Unholy Piety (dark!smut)

Better Call Saul

Lalo Salamanca

What Kind of Man (Smut Drabble)

-Salvator (Crime, Smut)

Part I

Part II

Watchmen

Rorschach/Walter Kovacs

A Pretty Butterfly (oneshot nsfw)

Robocop

Rick Mattox/reader

Losers. Weepers (nsfw oneshot)

Ghost (Band)

Terzo/reader

Agnellino (smut)

Ghost Recon: Breakpoint

Cole Walker/reader

Dumb Puppy (dark smut)

Actors x reader

Christoph waltz

- Rapture (fluff, angst/comfort, nsfw) complete

•Part I (fluff, angst/comfort)

•Part II (fluff, angst/comfort, a little nsfw but nothing explicit)

•Part III(fluff/smut)

•Part IV FINAL (fluff)

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Ouch

Fandom: Magnificent Seven

Pairing: Vasquez x Reader

Warning: Mentions being hurt

Writer: @imaginesofeveryfandom aka @thequeenofthehobbits

Summary/Request: Requested by @thekmusic-conspiracy:  Vasquez (from the magnificent seven) x reader where reader gets injured protecting vasquez during the battle at rose creek? *big hug* :)

You don’t think when you do it. You don’t think before pushing him out of the line of fire, you don’t think about the fact you’re putting yourself in the way. But afterwards you do think and you don’t think you would have done anything. You’re lying there cursing up a storm, a shot of metal in your leg but you’re alive and so is he and you can’t imagine a situation in which you wouldn’t do that for him.

“You’re a fucking idiot, y’know that?” He’s putting pressure on the wound but you can feel his hands shake, you knew he’s not angry like he sounds, he’s scared. But, you’re fine...you know you’ll be fine. 

“Hey, this idiot just...saved your life.” It’s cheeky and stupid and a little bit drowsy because you’re pretty sure the shock’s starting to set in, but who cares. He’s alive. You’re alive, albeit not in perfect condition. 

“Fucking stupid.” 

“You love me anyway, right?” He doesn’t say and anything back and he doesn’t need to. Vasquez isn’t the type to say it, but you know he’d jump in front of a gun for you. You don’t need to be told. It’s enough that you know.

[bonkers-4-hatter]

Red Harvest X !Fat Reader - Giddy Up [Commission]

Here’s another Magnificent 7 commission for another lovely dear!~ Honestly though, The guys in this movie need some more lovin’!

Red Harvest continued to stare at (Y/N), she intrigued him greatly; never had he encountered a woman like her. Not only was it her outwardly appearance that drew him in- ample body with marvelous dips that slopped down her curves, but her kindness, hospitality, her smile.

Though, he never voiced what he thought about the woman, he just stole longing looks at her as they traveled across the land.

“Ya know red, if you don’t lay claim to her soon, someone else is gunna do it.” Snapping out of his daydreams, the native turned to another one of his traveling companions; Sam.

“She cannot be claimed, she is not land.” Sam only scoffed as he rode past him and up to (Y/N), who was looking down at her horse with great concern.

“What’s up cutie?” (Y/N) glanced up at Sam, a neutral expression on her face. “I’m just thinkin’ that Ethel would be more comfy if I rode her bareback,” Stopping to pet the faithful creature on their mane, she continued. “I just don’t know how…” Trailing off, the plump girl rode up ahead near Vasquez as they did small talk.

Sam starting riding next to Red Harvest, a grin on his face. “Well Red, there ya go.” The Indian looked over at him with a perplexed look, clearly not knowing what Sam meant. Giving a sigh, Sam pointed over at (Y/N).

“She wants the ride bareback on Ethel,” Sam moved his hand down to point at Red Harvest and his own horse. “You ride bareback, so, you can teach her and finally have a chance to tell her how much ya love her.” With a grin and a wink, Sam rode up ahead to join (Y/N) and Vasquez in whatever conversation they were engaged in.

The warrior continued to follow in the back, Sam’s words echoing in his mind… Maybe he had a point. A small smile appeared on his face, gaze still lingering on (Y/N).

--------

“Okay, one more time.” With a determined look, (Y/N) stood back up with a fiery gaze, marching up to Ethel and tried to mount the horse without the help of the saddle stirrups.

Doing what Red has taught her over the past few weeks, she placed her foot in the right place and hauled up and over onto the creature.

“Ahh yeah! Lookin’ mighty fine up there (Y/N), nice view.” Not even acknowledging the pervy comment that Sam said, you smiled over at Red Harvest, showing him the accomplishment you just did and how all his teachings finally led up to something.

“Red, Red, I did it! I really did it!” Giving Ethel a little nudge, your faithful companion trotted over to the silent man, grin making its way onto his face. Coming to a stop next to him, (Y/N) continued to smile. “Thanks to you Red, I can ride Ethel bareback so she’d feel more comfy! Thank you.”

The man gave a silent nod as you looked around a bit in distress. “What is wrong?” His deep voice rang out. Nervously laughing, you looked at the ground once more before meeting his gaze.

“H-how do I get down again?”

Red Harvest couldn’t help himself, a laugh rang out causing Sam and Vasquez to make sure it was him laughing and not their imaginations running wild.

(Y/N) blushed at the beautiful sound of his laughter, she always fancied him before, being all stoic and silent, but now she absolutely adored him and that laughter. If her being stuck on a horse without any way to get down was what caused him to laugh such a genuine laugh, she’d do it everyday in a heartbeat.

“Here, let me help.” Red outstretched his arms, awaiting (Y/N) to slide down so he could catch her.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to hurt you Red, you know how big I am…” Trailing off, she looked to the side, hoping tears wouldn’t streak down her face.

Feeling a hand on her outer thigh, she blushed and looked back at the man who was touching her. “I have carried game much bigger than you, (Y/N),” His hand traveled down along her leg, until it dropped back down to his side.

“You are perfect as you are, let me help you.” Gulping, she mutely nodded. Swinging her leg around, she slid down Ethel’s side, big hands grabbing her wide, plush hips before she hit the ground to steady her. With feet softly landing on the dirt, she looked up at Red, blush full force on her chubby cheeks.

“T-thank you Red.”

With both hands still on her hips, he brought her closer to him, faces inches to each other’s, eyes locked to one another’s, and lips almost touching.

With a whisper, he said, “It was my pleasure.” Finally capturing (Y/N)’s lips in a heated kiss, his hands started to roam up and down her body, grabbing whatever plush he could. (Y/N)’s hands snaked around Red’s neck, pulling him closer as they continued to show their affection.

“Well, that’s one way to get the girl, Red.” Sam’s voice rang through the quiet area, as both lovers broke away, irritation written all over their faces.

“And that’s one way to ruin a moment between lovers, carry on amigos, I’ll take him away.” (Y/N) smiled at Vasquez as he ushered Sam away, leaving Red and herself alone.

Running her hand up his arm, (Y/N) ran it back down his chest and up again, trying to memorize every part of his body. “C-can we continue?” (Y/N)’s soft voice reached his ears as he gave a silent nod of approval.

Caressing (Y/N)’s soft cheek, he captured her lips once more, hands gripping onto her hips that he adored. That’s how they stayed, wrapped up in one another, showing each other their love and passion.