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delulustateofmind · 26 days ago

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Sweethearts

Description: The traditional route, met in college, got married…what could go wrong?

Hiromi Higuruma x reader

TW: ANGST, All hurt no comfort, No mentions of sorcery (kept it out for people that might not read the manga), Mentions of miscarriage, Acts of cheating, Implied suicide, Depression, sex? It's not really descriptive sex though. MDNI.

WC: 2.5k

A/n: Damn I really went dark with this one, Suguru or Choso will be next for their angst fic. Nobody is safe :)

Love—the one thing that cannot be regulated by law. While the basic acts of love can be defined—treating your partner with kindness, having patience, understanding sacrifice—these elements often find their way into courtroom debates.

Hiromi occasionally took on divorce cases, delving into the intricacies of love, seeking fairness for both parties. Sometimes, a small smile would curl on his lips as he read the documents, reminding him that he could never leave his wife.

He realized he loved you the moment he stumbled into that study room at the library nearly under a decade ago. You were sitting there alone, your gaze lifting from your textbook as he entered.

“Mmm, I reserved this space… but you could always join me. I know all the rooms are booked with finals approaching,” you offered, your voice soft and inviting. The way you smiled at him left him momentarily speechless, his eyes darting around the room. Share a study room with you? He glanced at the filled chairs around the library—indeed, all the study rooms were occupied. Keeping his gaze on the ground, he moved to the table.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, setting down his things. “What are you studying?”

You smiled brightly. “I’m a finance major, getting a minor in marine biology. My true interest won’t pay the bills,” you said, beaming. His eyes drifted from the curve of your lips to your open textbook—Organic Chemistry. You were smart, and a blush crept to the tips of his ears. “What about you?”

“Pre-law,” he stammered. Your eyes widened, and a brighter smile spread across your face.

“You would make a good lawyer,” you chimed, your enthusiasm infectious. “Most pre-law students have egos that reach the moon, but knowing you for just a few seconds… you seem fair and kind.”

Though you had only known him for a few minutes, Hiromi felt an undeniable pull toward you. You both shared that room for hours, occasionally exchanging small talk during study breaks. You offered him part of your bento, and he reciprocated by bringing you coffee from the café downstairs.

That day marked the beginning of your connection. You exchanged numbers and began studying together for finals. When the day finally arrived, and you both passed, you rushed over to him with your exam scores in hand. As the snow fell gently around you, you pressed a light kiss to his lips, your smile radiant as you looked up at him.

That was the moment he knew you were his one and only.

You were his everything during law school. After moving into your small one-bedroom apartment, you took care of everything: the bills, dinner, household chores, and groceries—all while working full time. Hiromi often found himself lost in his studies, the weight of his future pressing down on him. Did he ever say thank you? The thought gnawed at him.

When he graduated, you cheered him on with a big bouquet of bright flowers, your face beaming with pride. In that moment, he whispered promises to marry you, to cherish you for all you had done. He meant every word, but part of him wondered if he would truly live up to those promises.

Eventually, the two of you had a small wedding—nothing fancy. He had student loans to pay, and you were still new at your job. A simple silver band adorned your finger. You never even asked for a diamond. Did he appreciate you enough back then? Another thought haunted him.

Now, as he sat at his desk, the weight of the past settled on his shoulders. Hiromi made a decent salary, but he’d never been one of those greedy lawyers who chased money. You had been on leave after your third miscarriage, falling into a depression that he felt powerless to fix. Five years of trying. Five years of heartbreak.

He recalled the first time it happened, sitting on the bathroom floor with you as you quietly cried into his dress shirt. He’d come home late that night, guilt gnawing at him. Why didn’t he pick up that day? You needed him, and he’d failed you.

“Don’t worry, we can try again. We’re going to have a family, don’t worry,” he whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. He could still feel your fist clenching his shirt, the raw emotion in that moment echoing in his mind. The next day, he brought you white roses, hoping to spare you the pain of red ones that might remind you of your loss.

The second miscarriage played out similarly. You woke up to find white flowers by your bedside and a note that read, “Sorry, work calls. We’ll take a vacation soon. I love you.” He meant it, but even he could hear the empty promises beneath his words.

Now, the third miscarriage was just a month ago. Hiromi knew you were struggling. He noticed how you baked more than ever, filling the apartment with the comforting scent of bread and pastries. He found himself bringing the extras to the office, sharing them with colleagues as a way to ignore the reminder that you were slowly losing your bright smile.

But within that month, he also felt the stirrings of urges he didn’t want to acknowledge. It was a dark thought, one that clashed with his love for you. He hated that he even had these urges, but they surfaced nonetheless. His assistant, the one he told you not to worry about, was all too eager to help him with those feelings.

She was pretty, a younger version of you in some ways, but she lacked your warmth and kind eyes. While she had your features, her smile was sharper, almost greedy. After he’d crossed lines he never intended to, she would swallow his cum under the desk and then casually ask for the latest designer handbag. The stark contrast made him sick.

What was he doing? Hiromi wrestled with his conscience, torn between desire and the love he felt for you. He wanted to be better, but the pressure was mounting, and he felt himself slipping away.

When did your marriage become so loveless?

Instead of cuddling you at night, Hiromi laid awake, fearing you'd catch the scent of his assistant's perfume lingering on his neck or spot the hickey hidden on his collarbone. Sometimes, he’d wake to the soft, stifled sounds of your body shaking as you silently cried yourself to sleep. The guilt gnawed at him, turning his stomach into knots. He stopped kissing your lips when he left for work, afraid you'd taste her on him. Instead, he opted for a quick kiss on your cheek, a gesture that felt increasingly hollow as he left you alone in the dim light of the apartment. You didn’t return to work the next month either, retreating further into yourself.

Things would get better, he promised himself as he fired his assistant and replaced her with a kind male intern. Was that enough to ease his guilty conscience?

When he got home that night, the familiar scent of dinner wasn’t in the air. The flowers he sent you earlier that day still lay untouched in their bouquet packaging, wilting slowly in the silence. The lights were off in the vast apartment, and a chill settled in his chest. When did the space that once felt warm and inviting become so cold?

He entered the bedroom, setting down his coat, and saw your form lying still in bed.

“My love?” he called, moving closer. The bed sank under his weight as he noticed you staring blankly at the wall. “Baby?” he tried again, but you didn’t respond. You weren’t crying, but he could see the evidence of your pain—dark bags under your eyes, red and wet from tears.

You knew, he thought, dread pooling in his stomach.

He wanted you to fight him, to hit him, to scream—anything to break the silence that hung heavily in the air. But you simply lay there, staring at the blank wall. It felt like a reflection of the emptiness in their marriage. He wrapped his arm around you and tugged you close, seeking solace in your presence. To his surprise, you didn’t fight it.

After an hour of silence, you spoke. “Your assistant called.”

Oh, he thought, avoiding the topic. “We can take that vacation,” he suggested, desperate to steer the conversation away. “You must miss the ocean—you always liked studying marine life. Let’s take a trip to the beach- we just need a break away from all of this.”

You simply nodded, and he felt something flicker inside him. He was going to fix this. Fix your marriage. Be a better husband.

As he lay there beside you, Hiromi wrestled with his own shortcomings. What if it’s too late?

For once, he decided to take a week off. He had never used his PTO, but this felt like a necessary change. He booked a small cabin on the beach, hoping the December air would bring some clarity. The beach wouldn’t be crowded, and maybe you could see a couple of whales in the distance from the cabin. He envisioned a trip to the aquarium where you would excitedly explain the different animals to him. He longed for you to shine bright again, like you used to.

However, as you dressed in a baggy sweater and pants, he felt a pang of disappointment. You turned down the winter dress he bought you, along with a lovely coat to match. When you glanced at it, you shook your head. “Return it, please. It’s not my taste.” He knew it was something his assistant would have wanted—something flashy and expensive, not at all reflective of you.

You were still so beautiful. As he looked over at you on the train ride to your destination, a smile crept onto his lips when the sun caught your eyes. Eyes that once held so much warmth now felt distant, clouded by an invisible weight. He reached for your hand, holding it softly, wishing for a spark of connection. To his relief, you didn’t pull away; instead, you leaned into him and closed your eyes, a gesture that felt like a gift.

When you both arrived at the cabin, clothes were left at the door, along with your suitcase. He kissed you, his hands roaming over your soft curves, craving the intimacy you both had lost. He missed this—he missed you. He missed the sounds you made when he kissed that sweet spot on your neck. But as he looked down at you, that vacant expression lingered in your eyes, sending a fresh wave of guilt crashing over him.

That’s fine. We can fix this.

“I love you,” he murmured between breaths as he moved against you. “Let’s try again, yeah? We can move to the countryside.” His words were a desperate attempt to rekindle the connection, to pull you back from the shadows. “Maybe Tokyo is too busy for us, too chaotic. I can work at a smaller firm, and you can take care of the kids.”

You looked up at him, flushed cheeks and panting breaths as you cupped his face with your hand. “That would be nice.” But the smile didn’t reach your eyes, and he wished he had noticed that sooner. What was he doing?

As you both came undone together, hands intertwined, the warm hues of the sunset filtered through the cabin windows, creating a serene backdrop. Whispers of “I love you” hung in the air, an attempt to breathe life back into what had grown cold. The lovemaking felt like a gift too.

Sleep overtook him as he held you in his arms, a smile on his face. It had been a while since you both had made love. He missed your sweet noises, the way your breath would hitch, and that beautiful smile of yours. But was it enough?

“I’m going to go for a walk, Hiro,” you mused softly, pulling yourself from his embrace. The words felt like a soft blow to his heart. He hummed in response, hoping to draw you back in. “If you wait a few minutes, I’ll join you.”

You simply smiled and shook your head, a serene look on your face that made him smile. You seemed more at peace now. Things must be getting better already.

“I just want to look at the waves for a bit. I’ll be back soon,” you said, your voice gentle yet distant. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, and then his lips, leaving him with one last gift.

He smiled up at you, “Bring a coat; it’s cold. Be careful—the tide might be coming in too.”

You nodded and slipped on a coat before heading out.

“I love you, Hiro,” you spoke softly before leaving, but the words felt hollow, as if they carried an unspoken weight.

Hiromi simply hummed and rolled back over to sleep, embracing the warmth from your side of the bed. The scent of you lingered in the air, a comfort he didn’t want to let go of.

As you walked directly into the waves, standing waist-deep while gazing into the sunset. You wore a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes, and as the water swallowed you whole.. The biting cold of the ocean contrasted sharply with the warmth you both once had.

Time passed, but you didn’t return.

“Baby?” he called out, voice thick with sleep and concern. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting shadows that deepened his anxiety.

He slipped out of bed, hurriedly pulling on clothes as worry gnawed at him. When he stepped outside, the frigid air hit him like a wall, and he scanned the shoreline, heart racing.

“Y/N!” he shouted, desperation lacing his voice, he ran towards the water when he saw your shawl resting in the wet sand. The waves lapped at his ankles as he waded into the water, searching for you. Please come back. I can’t lose you.

The waves were relentless, pulling at his legs as he searched the fading light, but the ocean offered no answers.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #higuruma hiromi #hiromi x reader #hiromi jjk #hiromi x you #hiromi angst #jjk higuruma #higuruma x reader #higuruma angst

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melithril · 1 month ago

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[Adar] Into The West

♫ - Peter Hollens - Into The West

A/N: Had a brainworm with this song for a couple of days, and thought this might have been a cute lil' idea. I hope you ll enjoy! <3

If ever you were t be found somewhere, it was usually the library. Well, the makeshift library. In your current camp, it was space filled with few books, but more of a place for everyone to come and take some time away from every day life. Rare it was that anyone besides yourself was in here anyway, which is why it was always a sure fire thing to start a search party here should you ever have gone missing.

Often, you couldn't sleep, thoughts running marathons in your head kept you awake. So, instead of waking Adar, who needed the rest, you would slip quietly away and take some time to read. Losing yourself in the solitude meant your brain had time to fully wind down and you would head back to your bed, wrap yourself into Adar, and sleep.

This was one of those nights, although this time you were not without company.

Stepping into the library, you had been met with a young girl, who was rubbing her eyes and holding a blanket. You had recognized her from the times you kept the children busy in here, reading them stories or letting them be creative.

"Hello, Dura," your voice was soft, so as not to startle her. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, making her way to you and taking your hand. "Can you tell me a tale so I can sleep?"

Your face faltered, thankful she was in no danger or anything. It was unusual for any of the younger orcs to be awake at this time, so your first thought is worry. Nodding, you led her to your comfy chair and allowed her to climb into your lap. Dura situated herself so she was comfy and cuddled her blanket close, one hand holding some of your hair.

"How about a lullaby?" you asked, the little girl nodding eagerly. "There is one I know that I have yet to tell you. This song means a lot to me, Dura, I hope you will enjoy it."

You closed your own book and held her closer, your voice low and gentle as you began to sing.

"Lay down Your sweet and weary head, The night is falling, You have come to journey's end. Sleep now, And dream of the ones who came before, They are calling, From across the distant shore."

As the lyrics had begun to fall from your lips, Dura stared up at you, eyes glistening and listening intently. Whether she understood the words you sang or not, the sound alone enthralled her enough to keep listening. You rocked her gently, mind focused solely on getting the child to sleep.

Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face? Soon you will see, All of your fears will pass away. Safe in my arms, You're only sleeping.

Your mind drifted to your love, Adar, these lyrics in particular reminded you of him. You were his protection from the outside world, he would always tell you that. He would tell you that he was grateful for you staying in his life, that you were his safety blanket. In turn, you always promised to be there for him at the end of the day, and that your arms were open for him any time. Whenever you were needed, you would answer his call. Loving Adar was not easy, and he knew that. But, in spite of it all, you found him to be such a kind man deep down. He had shown you nothing but true love and care in your time with his family. Never once rude, never once had he raised a hand to you. Always, he was sweet to you. You had vowed to always love him through everything, and to be there at the end of the day when you both went to sleep.

What can you see, On the horizon? Why do the white gulls call? Across the sea, A pale moon rises, The ships have come to carry you home.

Adar had awoken, wondering why there was no warmth besides him. After rolling over and reaching his arm out, he knew where you would be. No matter the time, he always went to check on you, even though he always found the same result; you, in your chair in the library, nose stuck in a book. But, just to ease his mind that nothing was wrong, he dressed and headed out of the door and down to you. As Adar edged closer, a faint song was heard and for a second, he thought perhaps he had finally gone mad.

And all will turn,

To silver glass.

A light on the water,

All Souls pass.

He had reached the door and immediately recognized your voice. Such a beautiful singer, he thought. Peeking around the corner, Adar did not expect the sight before him. Sure enough, you were there, curled in your favourite chair. This time, a small girl on your lap, eyes almost closed as she lulled her way to sleep. It made his heart soar to see you with the child on your lap, swaying her back and forth gently as she lay. It was a warming sight, one he wished to burn into his brain for an eternity. The last thing Adar wished to do was disturb, so he observed you from where he stood, listening to your voice and the lyrics.

Hope fades, Into the world of night. Through shadows falling, Out of memory and time.

Pondering your words, Adar smiled to himself. He knew this song meant so much to you, how you hummed it often. To see you openly sharing it with the little girl, who was most certainly now fast asleep, was beautiful. You were beautiful, to him. Adar felt so lucky to know you, and even luckier to love you. He was never going to throw what you both had away for anything. One day, he would marry you. When peace was made in Middle Earth and he knew war for the orcs was no longer a threat, he would marry you.

Don't say, We have come now to the end, White shores are calling, You and I will meet again. And you'll be here in my arms, Just sleeping.

You glanced down at Dura, who had fallen asleep curled up into you and her blanket. It seemed your song had done the perfect trick. You continued the lyrics, feeling strange to not at least finish the song. You were moments from the end, after all. Your head tilted up at the sound of a shuffle, and you found your lover stood before you, looking ethereal in the pale moonlight creeping in through the window. Smiling, but saying nothing, you received one in kind. Adar sat on one of the chairs opposite you, not interrupting and eager for you to finish.

Taking one of your free hands in his, he simply ran his thumb across the back of your soft skin, eyes never having left your face as you sung. If he could only tell you how you looked to him in this moment, there would not be enough paper in the world to write it down. You broke your eyes from him to look down at Dura, as you finished the song.

And all will turn, To silver glass, A light on the water, Grey ships pass, Into the West.

Adar placed a quiet kiss against your hand, hoping the movement would not wake the child. He glanced down worriedly as she stirred, but you shook your head, signalling that Dura was most certainly out for the night. You knew you should return her to her family soon, which was not too far, but for the moment, you simply sat with Adar's hand in your own and the crackle of the fire behind you. Soft snores came from Dura, and you looked to Adar as he stared back. His eyes were so full of love, twinkling something terrible in the light.

In time, you knew this moment would end, but right now, with the child between you, Adar and yourself just enjoyed the calm and serenity of the late night. You were both lost in thought, the need for sleep taking over you both. Before you could deliver the child back to her home, all three of you were asleep. You and Dura on the armchair, her in your lap, and Adar in the seat next to you, still clutching your hand in his own. Your head had come to rest on his shoulder, and as a three you all got some much needed rest with one final thought in your mind.

This was family.

#rings of power #x reader #adar #adar imagine #adar x reader #imagine #rings of power x reader #rings of power imagine #adar one shot #one shot

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blackbat05 · 1 month ago

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The Gall of HeR!

Evan Buckley x Reader (Gender not Specified)

Plot: You come back home feeling blue from work. Luckily, Buck is there to lend you some support.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: New character! Only started watching 9-1-1 last year but wasn’t in the best back then. It’s been such a huge support to get where I am today so it’s only appropriate to do this! Also I can’t deny this is based on actual experience recently so this is my way of therapy😂 In all seriousness, note to self to always fight for myself because no one will do it for me.

“Hey! I’m home!”

Buck pads out of the kitchen in his “kiss the cook apron” that Eddie gave him as a Christmas Present last year as a joke.

“How’s work?”

I sigh, putting my bag to one side before unceremoniously dumping myself on the couch. “It was good, and then it was bad. Do I make sense?” My nose crinkles in confusion and I at that point I wished that my brain would stop running at a hundred miles per hour. Though, a part of me really needed to vent my feelings in a safe space. Buck was my safe space.

“They approached me for a possible promotion at the Library.” I start and Buck’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, that was my reaction. Inside. I didn’t expect this at all.”

Buck comes to sit beside me on the couch, body angled to face me fully. I take a deep breath and proceeded to explain how I had to ground myself first, to hear more details from HR before committing to that decision.

“So, I had that first meeting with Esther and obviously I needed time to process right? I didn’t understand some points that were raised and I wanted to clarify with her what some things meant to I called a second meeting the next day.” I explained. “The second meeting goes fine. It mostly involved her clarifying my doubts. Then after the meeting, she sends me an email noting all the things we discussed, and guess what?” I find the rage in the pit of my stomach bubbling.

“She adds in the extra clause that initially, they thought of reverting me back into my original position if things didn’t work out. But after considering the company’s position, if I did not perform or if I decided not to continue, I would have to leave the company!” My voice gets higher with each passing second. Buck reaches out to grab my hand, a soothing reminder that I was not in the library reading that darned email but I was here, with him.

“And then, Esther had the gall to storm into the library and yell at me what I meant when I sent that email and now she’s in trouble with the higher ups! My fault? How is expressing my opinions in a professional manner my fault?”

I finish off telling Buck that I wasn’t afraid of taking on the challenge. But my biggest issue was only being informed of this only after my second meeting and when I bought up the possibility of not taking on the role to her.

“Wow.” Buck purses his lips. I look at him reproachfully.

“You think I’m acting up too.”

“No. I think you’re standing up for yourself. No matter what others may say or think. It’s good that you question everything that’s being presented to you least you be taken advantaged.”

“Even if it means they might pass me up on this because they think I’m such a prima donna?”

Buck laughs. “In all seriousness. There are more ways to grow than besides promotions at work. You’re growing as a person and that’s more important. Do what you want to do and always do it for yourself.”

You don’t know what you did to deserve this man in this lifetime. Someone who supported you no matter what. That’s what you really needed right now.

“Thanks Buck,” you threw yourself into him for a hug. “I think I really needed to hear that. After all those times of doubting myself, I really needed to hear it.”

“Hey, you know I’m always your biggest supporter. Now let’s go and have dinner. Bobby taught me how to make this lasagna and we are not about to let it get cold.”

“Gosh, what would I do without you?”

“You’ll never have to know.”

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #911 abc

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visualnovellover · 3 months ago

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AIGHT JUST HAD THE TIME TO MAKE THIS POST BUT ANYWAYYYYYY-

from my previous post I talked about how IW is talking about a Third, which a lot speculated as Sydney being the Third - which is understandable due to IW having unique text about Sydney (which is a lot compared to the other LI). If you don't know, here's what IW say in reference to Sydney (taken from the game's code in github)

But in the same code the Third text can only be triggered with an Awareness of 900, along with other texts that have vague mentions of the two entities (Auriga : trail (as one of Auriga's title is blazing chariot that's probably what it meant) & Virgo : six (six arms, six wings, you get the gist))

With that in mind, Sydney is definitely out of the question for being the Third, and the curious presence from the prayer room is in!

You're probably asking who tf is that- well it's something you can encounter in the prayer room once you're a member of the temple! It's a very low chance, but there's a designated necklace for it to gain 10% to meet it - which is still low but still! Here's the scene once you meet it!

Now moving forward, the reason why I truly believe that the curious presence is the Third IW mentions because whenever there's mentions of Auriga and Virgo there would also be a mention of the curious presence! Two examples for this is the prayer room and looking at the sky from the telescope at GH's tower. Here's Auriga and Virgo! (there's a change in text if your soft world corruption is above 50 or more! and i unfortunately have a shit ton)

Unfortunately I don't have a picture for the third scene but i did copy the text in the game's code so here!

You spot a shape you aren't familiar with. It doesn't match any constellations you know, but there's unmistakably a pattern present. It feels as though someone has made a horrible mistake, and something has been moved from its intended position. You feel dizzy, yet warm. When you try to focus again, the pattern is gone.

And all of this scenes can be triggered by wearing the designated necklace which are: holy, dark and stone pendant. The pictures are courtesy to the wiki.

And I'm sure you can already guess which entities the necklaces triggers. It also has some dialogue from Sydney if you're wearing it when talking to them in the library! (nothing to special! dark pendant has Sydney spacing out, holy pendant ofc has syndey saying how safe they feel wearing it, while the stone pendant has sydney who looks interested at the necklace and mentions how they've seen it before <- all of this is from pure/neutral sydney! i have no idea what the difference will be except corrupt syd will say that they still wear their holy pendant despite everything iirc)

Here's also a screenshot from Purityguy which is really solidifying my claim.

Also if you guys didn't connect the dots already, Auriga and Virgo is a real life constellations. And Purityguy said that we can find out what the curious presence's name is from the screenshot above.

Basing on the screenshots and lore in game the third/curious presence is a forgotten being from a really old religion. There isn't any more details we can get except the fact that IW might have some knowledge due to it being old as fuck and the only scenes (that i know of) is in the prayer room and the telescope.

After all this, it really makes sense why IW says the Third remains unfound. The two entities having followers/worshippers while the other one has been forgotten about as time passes.

I still haven't figured out what IW meant by the 'Until the Sands run dry' text but it's probably referring to the third/curious presence atp.

That's all I managed to brainstormed. Honestly, I put too much effort in dissecting the lore then I do in anything.... god

#i miss the person i was a month ago #am I okay? NO #THERE'S A TON OF LORE IN THIS FUCKING RAPE GAME #WHY DOES IT EVEN HAVE LORE #dol #ivory wraith #dol ivory wraith #degrees of lewdity

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tofics · 4 months ago

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Out Of This World

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x fem!Reader x Dean Winchester

Summary: You and the Mikaelsons are fighting a powerful witch that’s trying to take over New Orleans. The only solution: banishment to another universe. However, the spell goes… wrong, and it’s not the witch that ends up in another universe, but you. - At the same time, over a thousand miles away in a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, an alarm goes off: a rift has opened up. The Winchesters and their angel partners in crime decide to investigate. What will they find when they get to New Orleans?

Word count: 5245 words

Warnings: A whole lot of anxiety, but probably less than in previous chapters.

Previously: "Who's to say she's not a witch herself?" You gawked at Dean. Is this guy serious? A shriek laugh slipped out of your throat before you could stop it. Me? A witch? The situation was just getting more absurd by the second.

You had visited many different places with Elijah over the years of your relationship. He'd taken you to various countries and cities, exposing you to locations and cultures you'd otherwise have never seen.

Stepping foot inside a bunker, however, was still a first for you.

Sam, who introduced himself as Dean's younger brother, gave you the tour. According to him, it covered the basics: kitchen, bedrooms, bathrooms, the library and its adjoining 'war room'. The name weighed in your stomach like a heavy stone. You could only imagine what kind of wars were planned in that room, or who those wars were fought against.

"I know it kind of seems like a maze, but trust me, you'll find your way around soon enough," Sam said as he led you through one of the long corridors back to the library. You couldn't help but notice that he'd deliberately left some doors untouched and unnamed.

"How are you holding up?"

You shrugged in response. "It's fine. I've lived in similar places, I'll get the hang of it."

When Dean had mentioned that they lived in a bunker, you had imagined a small, crowded space; clammy, dimly lit and stacked to the ceiling with cans and containers - basically, your average prepper's bunker. You couldn't have been more wrong. Besides an obvious lack of windows, the complex was eerily similar to the compound you'd lived in for the past years, with its many rooms, hundreds of books in the library and old-looking knick-knacks everywhere. It was both a comfort and a punch in the gut at the same time.

"Not what I meant." An amused smile played around Sam's lips as he held open a door for you. You pondered the question until you arrived back at the library where Sam gestured for you to sit at one of the large tables.

"I mean... I'm okay, I think. I don't really know. This is my first time being stranded in a different universe, so I have no reference points, but I think I'm doing okay, all things considered."

"I'll say." Sam's smile was warm and full of compassion. It reminded you of Dean when he'd paid for your coffee almost a day ago now. You hadn't seen much of that in him after that. He had practically ignored you for the entire ride to the bunker, save for some comments here and there that were more in response to Castiel than directed at you. It was just as confusing as it was irritating. You could understand his suspicion to some extent, but with the way he had snapped at you back in the alley, and the way he'd occasionally looked at you through the rearview mirror... Something just wasn't adding up.

Either way, you found his younger brother much more likeable. He was a lot kinder to you, in the same way Castiel had been during the long hours on your drive to Kansas.

"Alright!" Dean dropped the contents of his arms onto the table you and Sam had taken a seat at. He'd brought all the essentials - silver knife, salt and holy water - as well as an angel's blade and a gun loaded with silver bullets in case things went south, both safely tucked into the back of his pants where you couldn't see them. He’d meant what he’d sad to Cas in the alley way. Things were never that easy. There had to be a catch. And he was gonna find out what that catch was.

"Pick it up, if you'd be so kind." Dean gestured at the silver knife and then crossed his arms as he waited for you to touch the knife. He trained his eyes on you so he wouldn't miss a single thing, no flinch nor twitch. If you were going to have a reaction to any of the basic tests, he'd know.

He watched you cautiously lean forward and inspect the items he'd dropped in front of you with furrowed brows.

"What's this?"

Much to his annoyance, Sam jumped in to explain. "Just a few tests to confirm you're human. It's standard procedure for everyone we bring here. Don't worry, you'll be fine."

Dean huffed. "Ts, yeah, we'll see. Go on, then." He nodded at the knife again.

Instead of picking up the knife though, you looked up at him defensively. "What is your problem with me! Why'd you even bring me here if you're so sure I'm gonna do something to all of you?"

He didn't have to think about drawing the angel's knife. It was simply in in his hand as he brought both of them down onto the table in a slam. "Take! The knife!" he bellowed.

"Dean!" Sam chided him from the side, but he didn't care, didn't even look at his brother.

You jerked back, obviously taken aback by his harsh demeanor, and then finally reached for the knife. Dean's fingers tightened around the grip of his own blade. He didn't miss the way your hand was shaking, nor the way your eyes flitted to his blade and back to the table.

"Okay? Can I put it back down?" The knife laid calmly in your palm, your hand showing no sign of not being able to handle silver.

Dean's jaw clenched. So you were no shapeshifter, fine. So what. He felt it in his gut that something wasn't right with you.

"Water's next, then." His eyes stayed trained on you as Sam took the knife from your hand and handed you a shot glass instead, filled with water from the tiny flask Dean had brought.

Again, instead of drinking the holy water, you eyed the content of the shot glass first, then even sniffed at it. Dean felt his throat vibrate as a low growl worked its way up. His patience was worn thin. "Quit stalling. Bottom's up."

There was a defiance in you that he definitely did not like. The way your eyes narrowed at him had his hand twitching, but just then you finally brought the shot glass to your lips and downed the water in one quick go.

Dean watched you like a hawk in the silence that followed, but you just blinked at him. He groaned in frustration.

Not shapeshifter or demon then. What could have counted as good news to other hunters just drove Dean’s frustration up. Could still be a witch.

“Keep an eye on her hands, Sammy. I’m gonna get the shackles,” he growled and tossed the angel's blade over to his brother.

"Shackles?!" Even though you'd stood your ground during their 'tests', the word still came out in a shriek, and in no small part due to the large silvery dagger that Dean tossed to Sam. Paired with his words, it was very clear that the dagger was intended for you.

Sam caught the dagger with ease and you instinctively leaned away from him.

"What? Dean, no - it's okay, don't worry," Sam hastily said to you before turning back to Dean, "is this really necessary?"

"Are you kidding me?" Dean turned on his heels and stared at his brother in visible anger and disbelief. "Since when are precautions not a necessity anymore?"

"Dude, that's not what I'm saying. Just look at her! She's-"

"I am," Dean cut in. "And I see no reason not to be suspicious! Hell, for all we know, she could've opened the port- stay where you are!"

You froze in your spot, hands raised in the air apologetically. "Look, I'm not trying to cause anyone trouble-" you started, but Dean cut you off as well. "Yeah well, too damn late. And put those hands down! Don't even think about hexing us."

I wish I could hex you, you thought in annoyance, but you knew better than to say that out loud. Instead, you inhaled deeply. Breathe. You got this.

"Like I said. I'm not trying to cause anyone any trouble, and clearly my presence here is not... endorsed by everyone." You threw a quick glance at Dean before you continued. "So it's probably best if I just go."

"Like hell it is. You're not going anywhe-"

"Uh, boys, if I may?" Castiel interrupted the scene as he stepped into the library. He was followed by a young man who shyly smiled at you. "I think I might have a solution for this... problem." He nodded at the young man who'd stood patiently beside him, a child-like smile on his face. "This is Jack."

"Cas." It sounded like a warning, almost like a threat, the way Dean spoke the angel's name. You glanced back and forth between Castiel, the young man and Dean. The tension between them was palpable, yet you couldn't say what'd brought it on.

Castiel replied in a similarly low tone, although you weren't sure if it carried the same veiled threat - from what you could tell, this was just the way he spoke. "Dean. You can trust me on this."

Judging by Dean's face, he was not a fan of whatever Castiel was suggesting, regardless of whether he trusted the angel or not, but he didn't interrupt Jack when he stepped forward into your direction.

There was nothing threatening about the young man's approach, but you found yourself taking a step back regardless. Sam and Castiel seemed kind enough, almost sympathetic even, but Dean's attitude towards you had your nervous system on high-alert.

"Oh, it's okay. I won't hurt you." Jack smiled at you again as he closed the distance between the two of you. "May I?" His hands were hovering near your temples, clearly awaiting your permission to touch your head, yet he didn't offer an explanation. It was rather unsettling.

"Uhh..." Your eyes flickered from his hands over to Sam's face. Despite his furrowed brows, he still gave you an encouraging nod, and so after you swallowed down the lump in your throat, you gave your okay.

Despite Klaus' best efforts, Elijah hadn't spoken much in the first night of your absence.

While their sisters had been out studying the ancient scrolls again, Elijah had sat in the compound's office and stared into the flames of the fireplace. Klaus had tried his best to be there for him, but his older brother had ignored all his attempts, save for the glass of whiskey he'd slipped into his hand and had dutifully refilled throughout the hours.

Even though Elijah had appeared calm on the outside, Klaus knew that there was a storm raging inside of his brother. It was no secret that you meant everything to Elijah. 'Always and forever' was the Mikaelson motto, their pledge to each other that come what may, family would come first, always, forever. You had become a member of that family a long time ago. Rebekah and Freya were not trying to find ways to bring you back purely out of loyalty for their brother, but because they cared for you like they cared for each other.

What the Mikaelson siblings felt for you could only be topped by Elijah's fiery love for you. Klaus had seen his brother fall in and out of love multiple times over the centuries. Lovers came and went as time progressed - an almost unavoidable process in the life of an immortal. Still, he had never seen his brother fall for someone in the same way that Elijah had fallen for you. He loved you deeply and openly and with an intensity that none of his previous matches had been able to ignite in him.

His brothers silence troubled Klaus, and he was not a man that was easily troubled. Paranoid, yes, but worries about his siblings usually rarely extended further than what consequences would brought about for Klaus himself.

This was different, though. Usually, Klaus was known to be the one to act out of blind rage, led by feelings and with little concern for the consequences of his actions. Elijah's moves were always more calculated and thought-through, the counterpart to Klaus' reckless nature. Even when it came to protecting their family, Elijah never acted on a whim.

And yet, Klaus couldn't shake the feeling that with your disappearance, all bets were now off the table.

He couldn't know, of course, how soon he would be proven right.

Elijah was teetering on the edge of madness.

Out of all the battles his family had fought throughout the centuries, all the hurdles they had overcome and obstacles they'd had to face - this one could be the one to tip him over the edge.

In all of his wretched time on earth, he'd had but two rules: family comes first, and do what must be done.

The latter was commonly a result of the first one. Elijah would stop at nothing to ensure the safety of his family, no matter the consequences. There was no such thing as a price too high to pay. If there was something, anything, that could be done to remedy a situation one of his family members found themselves in, he would find it, and he would get it done.

But what was there to be done now? What could he do, now that you were god-knows-where, lost to a universe that wasn't his?

There were no arms to twist, no men or women to bribe, no deals to be made or lives to be threatened. There was no one to blame besides Athea, that wicked scum of a witch, who was already dead, having succumb to her own spell that took you from him.

He'd have his sister bring her back to life if they could, if not to reverse the spell, then to rip her apart limb by limb, slower and more painful than her previous death. He had wished for her death so many times before in the previous months, but now, it just wasn't enough. One death simply would not suffice for what she had done. This banishment, this punishment that you were now enduring had been meant for her. Against all odds, she had found a way to bring about even more suffering with her death. It was as much an insult as it was the superior move. They had been checkmated without ever even sensing the danger.

The most gruesome aspect of it all was his inability to do something about it.

Never before in his life had Elijah ever felt so useless, so powerless, so completely and absolutely helpless.

So he did the only thing he could do.

He drowned himself in whiskey and waited for his sisters to return. Maybe they would bring news. Maybe they wouldn't. Nothing he could do about it, but drink and wait.

And drink he did.

"Brother, wake up! They're back." Klaus' voice sharply cut through the hazy dream Elijah was experiencing. He found himself in the same place from the night before, where he sat down in front of the fireplace and drowned his pain and worries in as much whiskey as Klaus would supply. The glass still sat in his hand, its bottom caked by remnants of the dark liquid.

"Get on with it! I want to know what they have found. I'd expect so would you." The irritation in Klaus' voice did not go undetected, but Elijah didn't care, nor did he quicken his movements. His body was stiff from the hours it had spent locked in the same position and his head felt dull, empty and exhausted from the worries that had hounded him deep into the night and the alcohol he had consumed.

"Oh, for Christ's sake." The glass was ripped from Elijah's hand and he was pulled upright abruptly by the collar of his shirt. Despite his dazed state, Elijah's hand caught Klaus' wrist as quickly as his brother had moved on him. "Take your hands off of me, Niklaus, unless you wish to spend the better half of the next hour re-attaching them to your body."

Klaus arms went up in defense, paired with that god-forsaken, devilish grin his brother was known for. "Alright, alright, no need to be so prickly about it. Just get a move on so we can hear what they've got to say."

What they had to say was a whole load of nothing. Their sisters looked tired and defeated, and Elijah could tell from the second he laid eyes on him that they did not come bearing news, or at least the kind that could have lifted his spirits.

According to their studies, the simplest solution - reversing the spell - was out of the question, as the original spell had been worded in such a way that a reversal was impossible. This didn't surprise Elijah. After all, it had been part of why they had chosen this particular spell in the first place. Its irreversibleness was what had drawn them to it in the first place.

Since a simple reversal was out of the question, a new spell would have to be created to bring you back. This proved to be a difficult task on various levels. For one, a spell of such power had to be perfect down to the last syllable and its pronunciation. The slightest deviation or variation in pitch or emphasis could have a tremendous impact on the spell and its effectiveness, beyond things imaginable.

"It would need to be thoroughly tested to ensure full efficiency and to rule out possible side-effects. The whole endeavor could take months, if not more. Not to mention the amount of power it would take to conduct the tests. We would have to send something or someone to another universe, which on its own is a massive feat, and then bring them back. Even with all of you by my side, I don't know if it would be enough." Freya's voice was coarse with exhaustion. His sister was visibly spent. On any other day, Elijah would have ushered her to bed to rest. Today, he found himself indifferent to it.

"Well, that should not be a problem. What else do we have a little extra witch for?" Klaus spoke smugly from his side. "Where is she, by the way? Davina?"

"She left." Rebekah sighed and dropped into one of the arm chairs in the foyer. "And rightly so, as much as I hate to say it. I promised her to get Kol back, and now, we have yet another thing that takes precedence. Understandably so," she added with a look at Elijah, then continued. "Still, I don't know if we can count on her for this endeavor."

"We shall see about that. Kol is as much part of this family as is Y/N." Klaus spoke before Elijah could interject. It was an odd feeling, to weigh a brother against his girlfriend, but Rebekah was right: you took precedence. Kol was already dead, and yet, he was still there in the ancestral plane, making him closer even in death than you in life. It was the only acceptable option to Elijah, that you were still alive. If you died in another universe, entirely impossible to reach or protect... He pushed the thought away at once, unable to complete it.

"I don't know if Davina would see it that way. I believe her commitment to our family does not stretch much further than our beloved brother." Freya's voice had a sourness to it as she rubbed her face and sighed. "Even so, it doesn't matter. Until we know where precisely Y/N has ended up, it doesn't matter who we have on our side or not." The eldest sister paused for just a moment, seemingly gathering herself before continuing. "If we are able to create a retrieval spell - and that's a big if - it has to be tethered to a specific location. I'm no physicist, but from what we've gathered so far there is an infinite number of universes besides ours. The energy it would take to send the retrieval spell through each universe... It would have to be infinite as well. It's simply not possible."

Silence settled in the foyer as each of the siblings digested Freya's words. Elijah pressed his hands into fists. Your rescue slipped further out of reach with each detail they uncovered. Would he ever see you again?

He dug his nails deeply into the palm of his palms, unaware that he was drawing blood.

"Would it be possible to track me, if you were to send me after her?"

The faces of his siblings all turned to him at once.

"You cannot possibly be suggesting that we send you to a different universe as well?" Disbelief mixed with a hint of anger in Rebekah's face. It was enough to make the volcano that bubbled in Elijah erupt.

"And why not, sister? What would you have me do instead? Sit by and watch as you and Freya do all the work?" His words slowly rose to a shout and his legs started moving on their own accord, carrying Elijah through the foyer at a restless pace. "You cannot possibly expect me to idly stand by as the hours pass and we know nothing of her whereabouts. NOTHING!"

"Come on, let's find you a room and get you settled."

Whatever Jack had done, it hadn't take more than ten seconds. One moment his fingertips were gently touching your temples, and the next he'd dropped his hands from your face and announced that you were not, in fact, a witch.

Everyone in the room had relaxed a little at Jack's declaration, except of course for Dean. He'd just stared at you for a couple of seconds before he'd turned on his heels and had left the room.

"Here you are," Sam said and gestured around the room. "Bathroom's right through that door and you can put your things in that dresser over there."

Even though your motel room had been more spacious, this was clearly an upgrade in every way. The furnishing was sparse and functional - a bed, a nightstand, dresser and desk - but it looked clean and in shape, almost like the exact counterpart to the room you'd spent the previous night in. The motel room had been sucked dry by too many occupants, but this, this was a space waiting to be lived-in.

It was more than you could have hoped for. As far as you were concerned, you would have taken the couch in the library if you'd had to.

"Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate it."

"Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll let you get settled in." He patted you on the shoulder and was almost out the door when you called him back.

"Uhh." You chuckled awkwardly. "I hate that I have to ask, because you've already done so much, but umh... Any chance you got some spare clothes laying around somewhere? It's just - I didn't exactly plan for a trip, let alone an interdimensional one, so... This is kind of all I've got."

He left with the promise to find you something for the night and before you knew it, you were in your new room all by yourself. It felt eerily quiet, the only sound coming from a clock above the door to the hallway, and you realized it was the first time you were on your own since you first ran into Dean and Castiel.

It was kind of nice. The past 24 hours felt like a whirlwind and the sudden quiet was almost soothing, if it wasn't for the tight knot in your chest. You had first felt it when the realization dropped that the spell had gone wrong, and it had only tightened since. Meeting Dean and Castiel had been distracting and intimidating enough to temporarily distract you from the sensation, but that only made it more noticeable now that all of the distractions were gone.

You dropped on the edge of the bed and planted your face in your hands. The inner corners of your eyes were already stinging again, alerting for a fresh wave of tears, but you could only sigh at the prospect of crying yet again. You'd already spent so many tears, you were almost surprised you had any left at this point. Regardless, the first drops came quickly and you gave in with another sigh, letting the tears roll down your cheeks as fast as they would come. What else were you going to do anyway?

The answer was taking a shower, as it turned out just a few minutes later. As quickly as the tears had come, they'd quickly dried up to an occasional drop and a lot of sniffles, leaving you as a puffy-faced, snotty mess. Your whole face felt sticky and itchy and your body didn't feel nowhere near fresh either, so you forced yourself off of the bed and into the shower.

The first warm jets of water brought about another wave of tears, although this one tasted more of exhaustion and less of sadness and pain. You were no stranger to crying, but here, in this unfamiliar world, it seemed to be all you could do to process your emotions. So you let yourself cry into the steady water stream for as long as your body needed to while still taking care of yourself. The tears rolled as you shampooed your head and they shook your body as you lathered it in shower gel, but they subsided into small little sobs as you rinsed yourself off, an occasional hiccup sneaking in and replacing a sob here and there.

By the time you were drying yourself off, your eyes were red and swollen, but you still felt miles better than before. There was a comb in the mirror cabinet above the sink, along with a toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as some generic deodorant. Just like the furniture of the room, the cabinet only held the basics, and you made a mental note to ask for sanitary products the next time you saw Sam. For now though, the few items would do. You brushed the stale taste out of your mouth that came with the fits of crying and then combed through your hair carefully, taking your time with the knots that had formed in the chaos of the last day.

Sam had apparently snuck into your room and dropped off a change of clothes on your bed while you had been in the shower. Whether they had spare stuff laying around or he'd taken a few things out of his own closet, you didn't know, but everything was a few sizes too large on you, save for the pair of underwear that was definitely a woman's pair and, miraculously, more your size. You were thankful for it all regardless. The clothes all smelled freshly washed and were quite comfortable thanks to their large size. Together with the shower, they almost made you feel comfortable. Almost.

A chair splintered on the wall, thrown with such force that its parts flew across the foyer. Elijah's chest was heaving, his breath shuddering as he forced himself back into a calm state. His sister's voice sounded from behind him.

"I understand your concern-"

Elijah flipped around and stared at Freya with fury. She raised her hands in return, but didn't retreat.

"-but even if we did use the same spell on you, I couldn't promise that you would end up in the same place as her. The incantation we used did not specific a specific place for the person to be sent to. You could end up in a different universe entirely and then you'd both be lost to us."

Elijah closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Once he was sure he could control his voice, he spoke quietly. "Do not suggest that she is lost to us." One hand was pinching the bridge of his nose, his other was held out in the air like a stop sign. There was a slight tremor in his arms, barely detectable to anyone non-human, and it was a clear indicator of how much strength it took him to remain calm in this moment.

Freya replied equally as quiet. "That is not how I meant it. All I meant to say is that I cannot guarantee that you will be sent to the same place she was sent to. The risk is simply too big."

Elijah's hands balled into fists again. "You cannot send me there, we don't know where there is, and we cannot get her back unless we find out where she is. Did I get that right?"

"...yes." The defeat was audible, despite the small word. Elijah sighed as the emotion carried over to him and flooded him from head to toe. He couldn't lose you.

"Elijah, we need some rest." Rebekah's hand found his shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. "You know she means the world to us too, but we can't work on empty tanks. Let us recharge, then we'll go back to work."

It took a moment, but he eventually nodded. His sisters both briefly touched his back, an expression of empathy and comfort, then headed up the stairs to their respective rooms. Elijah stood for a moment, then straightened, a new destination in mind.

"And where might you be off to, brother?" Klaus asked from behind him. Elijah didn't turn around to reply.

"Do some research of my own."

Unsure of what to do, you strolled around your room. Sam said he'd be back for dinner, and while he didn't explicitly tell you to stay in your room, it felt like the safest choice. Despite Jack's okay on you and you seemingly having passed all of their tests, Dean's reaction had been anything but reassuring and you didn't trust the man not to slap some shackles on you the next time he saw you, so you decided to inspect your room instead.

The drawers were all empty, but the desk held a notepad and some pencils. For a lack of better things to do, you sat down and began to scribble down the list that you drew up in the diner.

Find out if magic exists in this universe.

Safe to put a check behind that. You couldn't exactly tell yet what kind of magic this universe held, but they did have rifts too, as well as ways to open them, even if they were different from yours. On top of that, they had angels, as well as a variety of other things apparently, judging by their 'tests'. So: check.

2. Find the spell that brought you here.

By some miracle, stumbling across Dean and Castiel had led you straight into the arms of knowledgeable men on the topic, and they seemed to have a large library at hand. Going by their hunter's profession, you bet some of these books would have spells in them.

3. Find the ingredients.

Depending on what number 2 on your list would reveal, it would likely also come with a list of ingredients needed to complete the spell. You just hoped it wouldn't be more difficult than gathering the materials had been back in your universe. They did say something about angel's grace... You'd have to ask them about that.

4. Find someone to perform the spell for you.

Well. It looked like you had your work cut out for you.

It was time to interview the Winchesters.

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missmonsters2 · 2 years ago

Text

—JOUSKA | THREE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Something and nothing at all changed. Wednesday is all too aware of the distance and the horrifying realization that if she wants to be closer, than she'll have to make the first move. Cue compulsively replaying a hypothetical conversation.

Warnings: Angst. Distracted!Wednesday. Wednesday generally being Bad At Feelings™️. Enid's wise words. Thing—the opportunist. Xavier absent but still not safe from Wednesday's roasts. Blood.

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Note: This was intense to write, but it'll only get more intense! Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 🥺

Part Two

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Jouska: Noun. A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Something and nothing at all has changed since that night.

"Hi, Wednesday."

Wednesday's eyes catch yours as she watches you flanked by two gorgon girls. You've got a white stick of a lollipop hanging in your mouth at the side, the grape confection already finished, but you don't like littering (unlike some of these other heathens at the academy).

Wednesday doesn't say anything back, but she does slow her walking down subtly, her brows relaxes and expression neutral as she looks at you. A nod of acknowledgment is all that is needed to satisfy you as you smile at her before looking away.

It's been like that since that night—the same acknowledgment, and it's all Wednesday can think about.

They've bonded, haven't they? Enid certainly said so. And if that was the case, why were you the same distance away?

Wednesday can only think back to that night.

"Black wings are the mark of a night faerie."

Wednesday doesn't rush her response. This was one of those moments, the one Enid was constantly telling her to be delicate about.

The right words—Wednesday needed the right words.

It reminded her of when she first encountered the photo of herself from Rowan, and how she, too, thought she was destined for (bad) calamity.

"Sometimes the dark doesn't cause calamity but rather is what no one expects at all," Wednesday looks at you, her eyes focused. "The solution."

But even as you give Wednesday a soft smile, she can see something dim behind your eyes, and the taste of utter defeat burns Wednesday's throat, knowing it wasn't the exact right words.

So, Wednesday was at a standstill.

And she was also far from finding a nickname for you that she'd allow everyone to call you. The only bright side was everyone else was somehow doing worse than her with their suggestions despite her not having offered anything at all.

There was a distance, Wednesday realizes. One that you seemed content to let be.

Wednesday feels jolted by the realization that she's been fairly spoiled and blessed in her life (even if she didn't feel it at the moment). It had always been Wednesday who chose to keep her distance from those around her. She had her own interests and had been content to put them above everyone else.

But ever since coming to Nevermore, her little ragtag of misfits—especially Enid—had intrusively barged into her personal space. Wednesday only had to take a small step forward, and everyone else had closed the distance.

Everyone except you.

Wednesday Addams would never deny the fact that she wasn't free from things like desire. She desired many things: rain, mysteries, victory, the fear of others, and whatever things could be described as morbid.

She told her mother that she would never be like her—never fall in love, be a housewife, or have a family. And she had meant it at that moment (although she was very sure she'll never be a housewife).

And really, it's not like Wednesday loves you or anything. But Wednesday has once felt enough to kiss a boy (who turned out to be a serial killer), and when she thinks of Enid, Eugene, and Xavier, she does feel like she has a strange little group to call a family of her own. She begrudgingly accepts Bianca to something like a distant, irritating cousin.

You piqued her curiosity very early on with your unintrusive smiles and waves. Now, you had an enigmatic background and a perhaps sense of self-preservation to remain distant. But it was too late.

Wednesday desires mystery, and she desires you.

They're not mutually exclusive.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Blood drips down from Wednesday's cheek. She touches her finger to the cut and looks at it curiously.

"You're distracted, Addams."

Wednesday looks back to Bianca, who somehow manages to look both smug and concerned. While being beaten by Bianca again still leaves the feeling of self-pity, her rage is directed at herself.

"And yet, you barely managed to defeat me," Wednesday drawls.

"Well, pull your head out of the dark, gray clouds and focus so I can put you in your place again without your excuses," Bianca shoots back without hesitation.

Wednesday starts to move into position when the coach halts it and tells her to go to the infirmary to take care of her cut. Clenching her jaw, Wednesday puts her equipment away and leaves the room.

The cut stings, and Wednesday knows it was her own fault that Bianca cut her too deep. She was distracted. She has been lately ever since her realization that if she wanted to close the distance, she would have to be the one to intrude in your space.

The problem was that Wednesday only knew how to intrude into someone's space when she was suspicious they were a serial killer—accusing and without permission.

And thus, Wednesday has been afflicted with hypothetical conversations her brain refused to stop producing. It was costing her sleep, and now the victories that should belong to her.

"Wednesday!"

Turning around, Wednesday sees Enid skipping her way down toward her. The blonde frowns when she glances at Wednesday's cheek and pulls out a white handkerchief. It’s the only colorless fabric she owns. "Fencing?"

Wednesday nods, accepting the cloth as she dabs it against her face, wiping at her jaw where it dripped.

"Lose?" Enid winces in pain.

A dark look crosses Wednesday's face, and Enid quickly changes the subject.

"Are you excited for parents' weekend?" Enid asks. "I'm surprised Principal Weems has made it so early in the year. I hear she's making changes so parents visit once at the beginning of the year and once at the end of the year."

"If by excited you mean begrudgingly accepted it, yes," Wednesday monotones.

"But it'll be interesting to see who the fairy godmother's parents will be, right?" Enid rocks on her toes in anticipation. "I heard her dad is, like, a high lord or something."

The comment does spark interest in Wednesday. She is curious about the two people who had loved you so much that they took you out of isolation and parted ways with you in this safe haven.

Assuming that they could visit you, anyway.

"That's also a witless sobriquet," Wednesday comments absentmindedly.

Enid only huffs.

"Enid," Wednesday calls evenly.

"Hm?"

"How—why—" Wednesday takes a deep breath as her eyes close for a moment. When she opens them, she finds Enid staring at her curiously with an amused smile. Wednesday knows it was because she’s never this inarticulate, but Enid is gracious enough to not say anything about it and waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts.

As patiently as she can, it seems.

"Not to rush you, but you should probably hurry on and say whatever it is you want to say so you can get on to the infirmary. The cut is starting to soak through my handkerchief," Enid gently pushes.

Wednesday grinds her teeth for a second before sighing through her nose lightly.

"How did you decide on how you wanted to be closer to me?" Wednesday asks, leaving as much emotion out of her tone as possible but cringing at her sentence. "Especially since it was obvious I wanted to keep my distance."

Enid's lip twitches, and Wednesday already regrets asking, but before she can turn around and leave, Enid answers. "Well, in your case, I think it was easier for me to tell you didn't really want to be alone, so I didn't ask."

Wednesday makes a vague face of disgust while Enid continues on.

"But in your case," Enid stresses, smirking at Wednesday's unblinking face. "I think you should ask to do something together to be closer."

Wednesday's eyes flicker as she processes Enid's words. The memory of Tyler's efforts to take her to the catacomb, how he set up lights, and a movie pops into her mind.

"Like a date," Wednesday says slowly, and horrification begins to set in.

"Er, I think that's a little too advanced for you," Enid cuts in quickly. "Maybe just try to find a way to spend more time together casually but consistently."

Enid looks at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go. Yoko and I need to start planning for the boat race this year." With that, Enid happily skips down the hallway. She turns around once and yells, "Oh, don't forget to wash the blood out of my handkerchief. I trust you'll know how to do that!"

Wednesday nods before she continues on her way to the infirmary. When she enters, she sees Weems talking to someone sitting on a cot behind the curtains.

"I'm happy you've found a friend to help you, but I'm concerned—" Weems stops as soon as she sees Wednesday, frowning as she sees the cut and then sighs, "Coach Vlad had told me you and Bianca frequently spared without your helmets. I had hoped he was joking."

The curtains suddenly opened, and Wednesday wasn’t surprised. She could tell it was you by your silhouette.

Immediately the hypothetical conversations she's been creating pops into her mind again.

"Hi, Wednesday," you smile with a short wave before you eye her cut. "Hope the other person looks worse off."

Weems clicks her tongue in disapproval, but Wednesday's lip twitches upward slightly.

The principal is about to say something else when a small, lanky boy walks in. He clutches his wrist, but Wednesday can’t make out his feature with his overgrown fringe covering his eyes. He seems to see just fine, though, as his posture stiffens at the sight of you.

"O-Oh, F-Fae," he starts to say but then stutters. "No, sorry, I-I mean—"

"It's fine," you wave away his attempt at saying your name. "Did you hurt yourself in psychitect?"

He nods.

"I suppose I should go find the nurse. She went down to the cafeteria for a quick snack," Weems says before she looks at you. "We'll finish our conversation later."

"It's fine," you wave it off. "I can help Wednesday. We’ll be gone before you’re back."

Weems purses her lips in disapproval, but you just give her a look back. Sighing, Weems nods before she turns to walk out. "Glad to see you fitting in more this year, Wednesday. It's pleasant to see you in my office less."

"It's too early in the year still," Wednesday haughtily replies, eyes trailing Weems as she leaves the room.

"Come along, Henry."

Once alone, Wednesday's eyes trail to you.

"Well, take a seat," you stand up and gesture to the cot near her as you rummage through the cabinets.

"I can do it myself."

"I'm sure you can," you absently say as you move bottles back and forth in search of something. When you find it, you turn around with a lopsided smile. "But I assure you I can do it better."

Wednesday only raises her eyes challengingly but sits down as you sit on the stool and roll over to her. She sits primly with her back straight as a rod when you come closer and closer. To allow your proximity, Wednesday has to open her legs for you to come between, being the one wearing pants.

"Pretty nasty cut," you mumble, and Wednesday can smell grape lollipops.

"I've had worse."

"Bragging, I see," you smirk as you put on gloves and use tweezers to soak a gauze pad in saline solution. "Xavier did tell me you took an arrow for him once."

"Xavier has an abnormally large mouth," Wednesday speaks tersely with a furrow of her brows. When you gently dab the soaked gauze pad on her cheek, it doesn’t sting, but Wednesday clenches her fists closed with your face so close.

"I think he was bragging," you continue to dab. "Enid and Eugene have similar anecdotes. Thing, as well."

Wednesday huffs while you merely grin lightly.

Enid's words and Wednesday's haunted hypotheticals were plaguing her again.

"What were you and Weems talking about?" Wednesday asks to redirect the conversation. She had been curious since she walked in, as it seemed like a rather serious conversation.

The thoughts aren’t going away.

"She was checking in after I told the nurse I had a friend to help me apply the medicine, and I'd only come in to do monthly examinations or if something serious happened."

Sometimes Wednesday isn’t used to people answering her questions so quickly and without pretense. She’s used to them being defensive.

'Thing shouldn't be applying your medicine.' Wednesday clenches her jaw, refusing to let the thought slip out of her mouth. With you in sight, her mind refuses to stop the compulsive hypothetical conversations.

"I see," Wednesday says slowly. "And why is Weems so particularly concerned?"

"She's my legal guardian," you answer straightforwardly, inspecting Wednesday's wound as the bleeding slows.

The sudden new information makes Wednesday blink.

'If you use your brain and think about it, Thing is a disembodied hand with stitches all over. Do you think that's sanitary? Forget the fact that Thing is vain and does well in washing his hand and moisturizes.'

You put down the tweezers and take off the gloves. Lifting your fingertips, you hover them over the cut. Wednesday watches as you concentrate before warmth and tiny little firefly-like lights seeps onto her cheek.

When it’s over, the sting of the cut is gone. Wednesday lifts her hand to touch her cheek and feels a thin bump of her skin scarred over.

'I understand your need for secrecy. I've been told I lack regard for others’ safety but I have no intentions of being the reason for your untimely death.'

You turn to grab a tub of cream and unscrew the lid. "It's not exactly perfect, but better than the usual way," you say as if apologizing. "I'll get better at it as my wings heal."

"Your powers are linked to your wings?"

'And of course, I understand you don't prefer the nurse's care. Her touch is indelicate and I imagine your wings are sensitive.'

You hum and say quietly, "A lot of it, yes. Our wings are embedded into our backs and take root inside our bodies. It's why we usually die without our wings."

"And Weems is your guardian?"

You nod. "Yes. As you know faeries stay in isolation, and faeries with my wings are...outcasts," you smirk. "My parents can't look after me like regular parents do because the more in contact with me they are, the more it exposes my location."

It makes sense. Whoever had done such abominable things to your wings should stay far, far away—lest they want Wednesday to find a way to paralyze them without taking their wings.

Still.

Wednesday studies your face as you apply the scarring cream. Your parents must've been heartbroken and scared witless to take you out of isolation and have Weems take over guardianship.

'As such, I must take responsibility for Thing and offer to take his place in applying your medication. This is an acceptable trade, is it not?'

"Your parents must've adored you so," Wednesday comments. She can certainly relate to that as she internally rolls her eyes at the thought of her own parents.

You finish applying the cream, and Wednesday has had enough of the repetitive one-sided conversation in her head. It was going to drive her crazy—and not the respectable kind.

But just as Wednesday opens her mouth to get it over with, her words die on her tongue when you look at her.

It was the same smile as that night, the one that made Wednesday's throat burn with utter defeat.

You must miss them.

"Yes, I suppose they did."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and the incessant noise of Enid's snoring is somehow amplifying her thoughts.

This. Is. Inconceivable.

The thing with Wednesday is that she had an obsessive personality. That's why solving mysteries is such a good pastime for her.

The only problem is when the mystery hasn't been solved, and she is left alone with the agonizing cliffhanger.

What if the words hadn't died on her tongue?

What if she had said them anyway, despite your smile that seemed to make Wednesday miserable.

But the truth of the matter is that she didn't, and now, she is stuck in bed coming up with new hypothetical conversations that revolve around one matter.

'Thing is indisposed.'

'I'm offering my company and assistance. Thing may stay as an additional conversationalist.'

'Surely, you must have more to say to me daily than greeting me.'

'Thing has questionable scalpel skills; therefore, I believe he's been applying your medication inaccurately. I can't have your wings—your life source—healing poorly on my hands.'

This is all Enid's fault, Wednesday determines. She turns her head to watch her peacefully, blissfully ignorant sleeping roommate.

Maybe she should come through with the threat of smothering Enid with a pillow. But in the end, Wednesday turns her head back to the ceiling.

It’s then that Thing opens the door and scuttles across the room in haste. She sits up as he climbs up onto her bed and pulls at her blanket.

"What is it, Thing?" Wednesday frowns.

Thing begins signing and tapping.

"Speak clearly, Thing. You're skipping words."

Thing taps frustratedly but slows down.

"Someone…slapped…back today?" Wednesday raises her brow but then frowns deeper. "It opened a wound up...and you can't fix it yourself? Need help...now?"

Thing taps multiple times to signify that is correct. Immediately, Wednesday gets out of bed and grabs her sweater.

"Where is she? Her room or her studio?" Wednesday asks as she shoves on her shoes, and Thing climbs onto her shoulder.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When Wednesday arrives at your studio, following the same sequence she did weeks ago, she finds you fallen on the ground, your wings just barely over your shoulder as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

Blood drips down and soaks your feathers, somehow making obsidian look even darker.

Wednesday walks up quickly and crouches beside you, and you barely notice her until she speaks. "Who did this to you? I want their name." She seethes.

"It was...an accident," you raggedly breathe. "She didn't know. Meant to be a friendly goodnight clap on the back."

But that doesn’t soothe Wednesday at all. Not when the back of your dress shirt is dredged in so much blood that there isn’t even a spot of white left, and your right wing twitching in obvious pain.

"What can I do?" Wednesday demands, but there was a softness to it that is almost desperation.

You swallow. "I—I need you to move my wing over my shoulder more—until I can reach the cut to seal it." You screw your eyea shut. "I can't move it on my own."

Wednesday nods. She carefully reaches out to touch your wing.

It is velvety.

Wednesday imagines it would've been more magnificent to the touch had your feathers not been weighed down and saturated by blood.

As Wednesday begins to spread your wing up and over, your breath hitches sharply.

Wednesday stops.

"Don't stop," you grit your teeth, taking in ragged breaths. "It hurts the longer you drag it out. Just—be gentle."

Gentle is not often used to describe Wednesday. She’s sharp and jagged, like broken glass. That's probably why she still plans to discover who did this to you and slowly butcher them—accident or not—as she carefully keeps moving your wing.

When it’s finally close enough for you to reach, Wednesday watches you use healing magic for the second time that day. You slump onto the grass, exhausted.

Thing grabs Wednesday's attention to the pile of towels neatly folded in a tree's hollow trunk. She finds a set of spare clothing and grabs those along with the towels.

"Is the pond water sterile?"

You nod with your eyes shut.

Wednesday places the shirt next to you and then turns to the pond, and sticks her hand in to find it was lukewarm before she soaks one of the towels.

“Change into this clean shirt for now,” Wednesday orders you but her tone lacks the usual bite. She wrings the towel and passes it to Thing. “Help her wipe the blood on her back. Turn around as she changes,” Wednesday warns Thing.

Wednesday turns away and keeps her focus on the pond, soaking the next towel. Thing taps her leg when they’re done. You look extra tired from having to change shirts but it was better than letting your bloody shirt make you sticky and then crust over before you could shower. You seem to realize it yourself as you make an effort to keep your dirty wings from soaking your shirt again.

When she returns to you, Wednesday cleans the blood out of your feathers gently but thoroughly. When she uses her fingers to brush aside some of the feathers, your wings trill.

"Tickles," you mumble.

Wednesday doesn’t comment as she continues until the blood is washed out and properly dried. Thing hands her the ointment you use and begins to apply the salve with precision.

It’s quiet.

Peaceful.

Wednesday feels the tension in her shoulders leave now that you are fine and she is here.

All those hypothetical thoughts and conversations flew right out of her head.

"I will apply this for you from now on."

You open one eye to peek at Wednesday, and she stares back at you as if to challenge her. You close your eye again and nod.

"Thanks for your services, Thing," you mumble tiredly. "Your severance package will be a bottle of dew drops."

PART FOUR

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

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hollyhomburg · 2 years ago

Text

Before I Leave you (Pt.53)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: A snippet of the future- a flash forward- in which you and jimin reach an agreement.

Tags: Pleasure dom Jimin, pillow princess m/c, oral (f. receiving), fingering, pussy spanking, excessive squirting, knotting, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Breeding kink, Jimin gets a little mean once he tastes her slick, slick-drunk minnie, talks of safe words but no safeword usage, talks of gender and sex, murder, talking ill of the dead, assassin! jimin, implied autistic! jimin, Flash Forwards, intentionally vague moments, brief mention of mommy/daddy kink, brief talks of clothing control

W/c: 10.0k

A/N: please be patient with me regarding the rut chapter ie the chapter after this one! i’m visiting my brother next week in LA so!!! please recommend me some stuff to do in la! i’m hoping it’s going to be a restful trip but ngl…it’s not looking great…. i don’t like planning things that other people are going to potentially not enjoy 😠 i’m meant to be a passenger princess threw and threw

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

(Flash Forward, 6 days after Namjoon’s rut, Jimin)

Jimin lays out the plastic sheeting with a ripple. Making sure it covers most of the corners and the baseboards of the back room of the house. Taking more effort than usual not to be messy.

It would look normal to anyone else as you watch him work from the hallway. But you have a lurch in your stomach as Jimin fucks with the plastic, making sure it lies flat.

Jimin setting out plastic sheeting would look totally normal to you if you didn’t have an inkling of all the other times he’s probably done it. How many times has he watched blood and viscera soak plastic? How many times has he melted it after at high heat to destroy DNA evidence?

You watch him work, feeling like you’re witnessing something you shouldn’t.

But today, if you happen to have an accident and drip paint onto the floor, Yoongi will refinish them anyways. You’re just glad you’re not painting the sunroom red.

That's the plan for the day. Primer, paint rollers, the whole shebang. They litter the 10 x 10 room like fallen soldiers. At this point, you've helped Yoongi paint just about every room in the house. This will be the last one for a little while.

The sunroom at the end of the hall is the last unfinished room in the house. Mostly unused due to its decrepit aura until now. The space is sunlit in the afternoon light, no longer dampened by the old dirty windows.

Today is the first day since Namjoon’s rut that everyone’s been out of the house. It’s just you and Jimin here. The quiet feels overfull, like something is lingering overhead, a storm or a fever yet to break.

Jimin straightens when he sees you through the mottled windows- not quite frosted but ripply, like looking through water. Yoongi put the doors back on finally yesterday after the workmen left. Hobi and Jin helped him hold the doors in place while he put them back on their hinges and you and Tae and Jungkook cooked while Jimin and namjoon opened all the windows to rid the house of the smell of strangers.

He was mindful of the strangers, as had the rest of the pack been yesterday with no less than 5 of them here. Tae’s hand had been practically glued to your lower back, herding you towards a secluded corner in the library room for some cuddling and a nap. Yoongi had been worried about them possibly breaking his labour of love.

They’re similar to the door he put in for Tae’s library only this one is varying textures of mottled glass, most opaque, but some clear with white ribbons or rainbow films like bubbles.

Yesterday was a little bit hard for Namjoon especially with his post-rut pheromones already elevated. But the windows are finally done, and no more strangers need to set foot in your house for the foreseeable future, and that’s something.

It’s been a race against time. As the temperature begins to plummet the windows have finally been tended to, the drafty space transformed into a sunlit puddle that captures the afternoon light like a suncatcher. Hopefully, it will help the pack wait out the winter months and fend off any seasonal depression which more than a few packmates are prone to.

Yoongi doesn't like to name names but Tae and Hobi are vulnerable that way. Like stout magnolia trees and pink echinacea their happiness is prone to bouts of dormancy.

You wandered in here with Yoongi and Jin last night after dinner to talk colors. A glass in each of your hands full of Sweet pink wine, the kind that Tae likes. She would have joined you, had the pack alpha not pulled her and hobi and a dejectedly shy Jimin into some alpha bonding time upstairs.

“We can’t paint every room in this house varying shades of pink hyung, even if it’s for Tae.” The word sounds especially sweet on Yoongi’s tongue; Jin is the only one Yoongi can ever call ‘hyung’. A special sort of pet name between the two of them.

The pack omega had curled especially close to your mate with you happily sandwiched between them. Your fingers hooked into Yoongi's pocket and Jin's sleeve. He'd pressed his pink button mouth to Yoongi’s easily, the way he’d kissed the beta a thousand times. And replied stubbornly “Why can’t we?”

Yoongi always aquiecess, even if he is a little stressed, “Remember Jungkook’s already chosen lilac for the outside. you’ll hate it if it clashes”

"I want to paint stars on the ceiling with glow in the dark paint and maybe the outside too!"

Jin had saved another special kiss for you, just as soft as the one he gave your mate. "Of course you do sweetheart." Yoongi had only sighed, and pulled out his phone to look it up.

They’d settled on a shade of salmon pink this morning when they went to home depot (and coffee, because any outing with the pack omega is sort of a date). the color is so light it looks almost white in the morning and honey in the afternoon. Not quite as dove slipper pink as the upstairs closet, or as muted terracotta as the pack’s bedroom.

There are several different colors of pink and red sitting by the doorway, mini bottles that the pack used for swatches. Not just pink but yellow too (the color you thought you wanted to paint your bathroom once upon a time) and dark teal blue (the color Yoongi had chosen for your bedroom).

Of course, no painting can happen until the ceiling is fixed. (Yoongi started peeling back the paint, intent to fix it before you started, only to find that the whole corner was rotted out. If Yoongi gets back from Home Depot with a drywall patch by a reasonable hour, you might be able to start tomorrow. until then, you and Jimin will prime the living daylights out of the trim.

Jimin spots you and flushes- a light pink on his cheeks a shade redder than the color in the paint buckets. “Hey,” he says, soft, pausing. Sheepish at being discovered.

“That’s not-“ you gesture to the plastic sheeting, leaning up against the doorframe. “For me, is it?”

“Yes,” Jimin says. Then he bobs, urgent when he realizes what you mean, what just the two of you in the house means. His grip on the screwdriver goes slack. “No! not in that-“ but then he sees your grin and realizes that you’re just teasing him.

His plush lips pout. Round and glossy like he kissed Tae earlier and hadn't remembered to wipe away traces of her lip gloss. Seeing that is enough for you to get a bit of pep in your step. “That really isn’t something we should even tease about-“ You drum your fingers on the doorframe smiling nonetheless.

He opens his arms, and you fold yourself closer to him, stepping over the layer of plastic and drop cloth, and- is that canvas? It’s pleasantly rough beneath your bare feet. His hands smooth up your tank top to your upper back. Your tank top hides very little of you- but Jimin supposes that’s half the draw. The thin straps don't give you too much support. He tries not to get distracted by the faint squish as you press your whole body up against his chest.

Before, he might not have really mused on the slight differences between hugging you and the others but now Jimin’s gotten used to calculating the differences in gender the last few weeks, more important now because it affects Tae. You nuzzle into his chest and then pull back, Jimin’s eyes are puffy, his scent is normal and his hair is washed but-

“You look...“ Jimin scrubs a hand across his cheekbones, trying to banish the slight haunted look in his eyes. Not like there's something weighing on him but weighing on his soul.

“I know I look like shit.”

“It’s okay, I like my alphas a little bit ruffled.” You tease, but your eyes flash from his face to his chest and back again. “Is it about Tae?” Jimin looks away rubbing his cheek. And you know that’s a yes without having him confirm it. Jimin's anguish and happiness can always be boiled down to her.

Especially given what happened during Namjoon's Rut.

“I wanted to ask you for something. A favor.”

You wait. Through the window you watch the trees bob in the wind, the train chugs passed, its lights as limey yellow as the ginkgo trees that lay interspersed with the pine trees on the edge of your property. Not quite as orange opulence as the tall maple tree that plunges your backyard in shadow. You watch as some of the oak leaves are tossed onto your narrow back lawn, a space that any of you rarely venture to because it’s steep and because it tends to be a little mossy and muddy.

Jimin tugs you to the floor, helping you sit cross-legged without teetering. The layers of plastic and cloth on the floor make it a little slippery and a bit squishy. It's a little bit more comfortable than it might be ordinarily.

Jimin hesitates and his scent goes sour, not exactly angry or overstimulated sour (the kind of scent you’re more used to when it comes from him) but more scared sour. Sharp and grating to your senses the kind of angry alpha scent that once upon a time would have had you ducking for cover.

You shuffle closer to him smoothing your hand over his knee. "Minnie, what's got you so spooked, why are you so nervous? You know you can tell me anything. Literally."

Your attempt at being funny does little to soothe him. Jimin talks quickly when he's nervous. A habit he definitely picked up from Tae.

“Like with you and Namjoon- like with his rut. I don’t want our first time to be in the heat of the moment. I don’t want to do this without thinking because I feel like- when I do that I fuck up, and I might fuck it up with you. If there are two things I’m most scared of it's fucking it up with you and Tae.”

But it's more than that. Jimin knows that since Namjoon's rut, Tae has pulled you into her favorite secluded corners of the house more often than not. That you've chased those hidden moments of pleasure with love confessions.

Is he surprised that you've begun to fuck like rabbits now? A little. Not because he's been excluded from it (Not excluded intentionally, it's just that you spend most of your moments together late at night or in the afternoon before he comes home, and he comes back to the house to find you both smelling sweet and sated.)

You haven't stolen his soulmate from him. It's more like you've uncovered a layer to her that Jimin hadn't even known existed. A flower that he just thought was a bud, a dandelion turned puffy-wish. Only more spectacular than that, because if Jimin could choose one flower to represent Tae it would take fields and fields of them, and probably Hobi's help to make the levels of pretty match properly.

Is it Tae's hormones? Tae has never been the most sexual creature, at least not compared to other packmates. Jimin practically wanted to live inside her skin. To consume his lovers again and again until their pleasure became a part of him.

It's not that Jimin's love language is sex (at least not the way Kookie might consider it his) It's just that there's something about the way he loves that's all-consuming. Perfectionistic almost. Jimin will love them well, and learn how to fuck them well- because he simply won't compromise for anything less.

Tae would say that there's something about the way that he loves that's all poetry. Not at all Plath or Service but maybe Wilde if Tae is feeling particularly sentimental for the person she’s doing her best to leave behind. In Tae's words- and she's written books and books of poems about Jimin at this point- Jimin's love is all:

Let me press my lips to your skin and make every inch known, my lips the pen and your moans the ink, let me show you how good 'good' can feel. Let me do it again and again until bliss feels boring. Let me claim your pleasure as proof of how much I am yours and you are mine. Let me make you hope for nights quiet. For afternoons spent in sheets. Let me make you scorn the morning.

But then again, you're the only one who's read Tae's poetry; so really Jimin has no idea.

Tae has always been the least sexually active of all the packmates, even compared to Yoongi. Jimin knows it’s a bit prejudiced; to think of Betas as being less sexually active especially when he knows the kind of kinky shit Yoongi liked to get up to before you. But there was a time when Tae's sexual activity outside of rut was few and far between. Jimin knows because he and Jin tracked it one year.

Which is why your cries of "Mommy! Mommy please" That Jimin has overheard on more than one occasion over the past two or three weeks- even before Namjoon's rut- coming from the library room- is so strange.

He'd noted the subtle sound of a chair creaking back and forth and a wet slap every now and then and had not had the strength to peer through the more translucent sections of the glass door. But the encounter had left him with his cheeks hot and his pants uncomfortably tight. A hot shower and the warmth of his own fist had left him feeling only guilty, not satisfied. It was the first time that Jimin had ever felt... unwelcome in the pack's escapades.

Maybe he's a little hurt too- because you hadn't come to him and asked to call him Daddy too. That special pet Name remains reserved for the pack omega.

The packs dynamic is also something that tae’s been mostly left out of, in the hierarchy somewhere in the middle in only the barest of terms. because tae has never been interested in the dominant and submissive shit the rest of the pack gets up to.

And yet Jimin doubts this is something you forced on her, doubts that anything about your relationship isn't organic and natural. Which leaves only one possible conclusion;

Jimin simply cannot fuck Tae the way you can. There is something more, that you do better when it comes to loving her that Jimin lacks.

It's stupid to feel insecure, Jimin has loved Tae for almost his whole life. But jealousy is only a secondary emotion when it comes to you and tae- the primary one Is relief. (and also guilt, but Jimin feels sort of guilty about everything so that’s barely a blip in his radar).

You can’t be scared of change forever. He can’t be scared of change when it’s staring him right in the face when you’re sitting pretty and cute and representative of everything Jimin wants not only for Tae but for himself too. Of course, just because you know how to give Tae what she needs doesn't mean Jimin should be complacent.

Jimin puts down the screwdriver, and the last bit of paint cracked open. “After this last week, It’s clear to me that I don’t know how to love women right.” You read into his words. And suddenly standing there feels a lot less normal, your back straightens, mouth falling into a little ‘oh’. There is a stain on the edge of your checkered gingham shorts, the kind you like to wear when you sleep. Suddenly it feels like it matters that you're not put together.

It's okay, Jimin's going to take you apart today anyways.

Jimin's eyes are intense and focused when he stares you down. “I want you to teach me- I want you to teach me how to make love to Tae properly- the way you do.”

Your breath comes in one stuttering gasp and-

Jimin promptly takes one of the tubes of paint, a light blue- the same light blue that you ended up painting the upstairs bathroom, and squishes it out onto the canvas below you. Near your hand but not on it.

The breath you were holding rushes out in a single jagged laugh, “Okay, now I’m lost- I thought the whole point of the plastic and drop cloths was not to get paint on them.”

The look he shoots you asks you to suspend your disbelief and tugs you closer by your knee, "Sit closer so that I can spread more around you." He starts dishing out the other colors. Enough careful drops of paint that it would take a lot of concentration to get out of the room without tracking dark blue or pink or yellow or red halfway across the house.

You wonder what exactly Jimin plans to do to you. Paint included. He puts out a spurt of yellow paint on your side and then another.

Surely sooner rather than later, noodle is going to wander in here in search of a pool of sunlight, track his paws or tail through the paint and leave pawprints everywhere throughout the house. Yoongi will probably complain about them, but you might make him keep them instead of washing them away.

When he’s finished, Jimin turns a yellow tube over in his hands. Back and forth, the cap flashing like a rising and setting small yellow sun. Jimin’s voice is low when he speaks, near reverent. “You’re the first woman I was ever with- that I ever knew I was with.”

It’s an admission and an admonishment, one that you and the rest of your pack have been tiptoeing around. Even though Tae’s a woman now she hadn’t always been. While new lines in the sand are drawn that doesn’t mean the old lines totally fade away. It will take a few more cycles of low and high tide to completely grow used to this.

Jimin fiddles with a small red tube of paint. “I’m a rigid person, I know I am. I don’t like change most of the time and I know, I know things shouldn’t be so planned, I know that’s not the way things usually go but-” You nuzzle close to Jimin, and his words extinguish into a sigh. His hands cradle your sides, the same place he always likes to hold, between your shoulder blade and your ribcage.

You peck under his jaw, “But you need them to be this way sometimes. Planned? So you can make sure everything’s done right?” You press. Mirth playing at the end of your sentence. Jimin is terribly fun to tease.

He bristles, “If you’re expecting me not to make loving you guys perfect when I can make it that way then-”

“You’re such a control freak Minnie.” You say it with a smile, playing your fingers through some of the milky pink white, feeling the tackiness between your fingers.

“You don’t hate it?”

You shrug. “Jin’s that way too sometimes. So no, I guess I don’t hate it. Maybe it’s just because I like- really fucking hate making decisions- so.”

He grimaces, but Jimin’s eyes dart from your face down to your crossed legs. settling on something. “Do you care if those clothes get dirty?”

“A little- I like these shorts.”

“Then you should take them off.”

Your heart thuds as Jimin leans over you, tugging on the strap of your Tank Top with his teeth, lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder, dragging them down. He plays at being sexy but decides not to be, settling for leaning his cheek on your shoulder and watching you.

“I had this stupid idea, if you don’t want to do it just say so. But this is every shade of pink that we ever painted the house. Tae’s favorite color is pink- and the canvas- I thought it might be nice to have like- some art in her library room- that’s what I meant about making it planned.”

“Are you saying you want to make sex art for Tae or something?” Jimin blushes yet again. You should be keeping track of how many times he has and use them for leverage.

"Her favorite color is pink." He says, like that justifies it. “And you know gift giving is like, my second love language if that bullshit is to be believed and-”

“-Oh my god you actually do want to make sex art!” your playful shove at his shoulders almost sends you spilling into a splotch of blue. But Jimin is as immovable as ever.

He leans over, growling, nipping at your throat- an alpha tired of being teased. “Do you really think it’s so strange that I want to remember this later, or do you just think it’s odd that I want to treasure you specifically?”

You lean, you’re awfully close to a splotch of yellow that he poured out. You don’t have a good answer for him, or at least- one that will make him stop looking a little sad.

He shouldn't be so surprised that you kiss him to avoid answering. And yet his hands hit a splotch of blue to support himself when he's suddenly made dizzy. Your laugh tastes sweet pressed to his mouth, and the quirk of your lips says ‘That’s what you get,’

You guess the floors need to be replaced anyway, and he's a trained professional when it comes to clean up so it’s not like it will matter if you and Jimin get a little messy here. If Jimin really wants to learn (and you have no doubt that he does) you’ll gladly teach him.

Unhurried kisses become your hands pushing his flannel off his shoulders. Laughing when you look down and realize you've definitely left pink all along the collar. Jimin has the perfect lips for kissing, soft and strong in all the right ways, his hands go to your hips then up to your waist and back again, and his kiss goes sloppy- like he’s distracted by the feel of you.

He separates briefly, to very carefully and neatly, take off your shorts and place them near the edge of the room where there is less of a risk of them getting ruined. Leaving you in just your little panties, you wonder if Jimin knows this is one of a set- that Tae has the other ones and is wearing them today.

(You might have decided to match today, getting ready in your bedroom. She might have liked picking out your clothes a little bit too much, heart fluttering at the idea that you’d be wearing what mommy wanted you to wear all day).

But then he surges forward, pressing a kiss to your lips gently except for the way that you can feel him get jumpy and nervous, and when he pulls back, he’s uncharacteristically shy. “I-“ Jimin is blushing, his cheeks rosy pink, like the buckets of paint have jumped up and left splotches there. “I wanted to come find you once I was done setting up- to kiss you and then-“ he tucks his face down not meeting your eyes.

“You love Tae so well,” Jimin sounds sick with it. A confession maybe, that you love her better than he ever could. How is it that you’ve mastered it? Jimin’s world begins and ends with Tae, and Tae’s world is all you colored these days. And yet, you love her better- love her more.

He leans forward holding your hip, hand hovering on that space between love handle and stomach. It's the first time in the night that you push back, covering his hand with yours and sitting back. “I don’t know how that feels on men but on me, that’s kind of ticklish and kind of anxiety-inducing so-”

“Sorry,” Jimin takes his hands off of you, flexing them, “Wait how should I do it then-” you make him sit back, straddling him, narrowly avoiding putting your palm in a puddle of pink paint.

You slide your hands up his waist to cup his ribcage, and you feel the frantic thudding of his heart under your fingers. “Like this, if you had tits, I’d be just barely touching them, right? Boobs on their own are not like- the most sensitive things to be honest, but if you don’t touch them strong at first and kind of tease around them- it makes it feels better.”

You sit back again, letting Jimin touch his fill, letting his hands rough in all the right places. His fingers skimming up your ribcage, cupping underneath them with a blush on his cheeks, pulling back carefully to watch your expression and make sure he's doing it right. “Yeah- like that” you ignore the way that your breath goes heavy but Jimin’s smile goes a little feline. Like he knows how affected you are but won’t call you out on it.

“Did you know- until you I thought I was like- truly only into men?” you shrug, as Jimin slips off your tank top reverently. The dusky rose of your nipple is so similar in color to one of the pinks he just placed, or is it closer to the rose brown purple that comes when you mix the swatch from the upstairs with the pack's bedroom? Jimin couldn’t tear his eyes away from you if he tried. There’s a fleck of it on the shorter baby hairs near your face too.

You tap your fingers across Jimin's shoulders, narrower and comparatively more feminine than Tae's. You don't like thinking of any part of her as particularly masculine, but her shoulders have always been particularly dysphoria-inducing for her.

It's sad to think that maybe if she looked a little bit more like Jimin and had his proportions some parts of her transition might be easier on her. You can only tell her she's got the proportions of a victoria's Secret model so many times before it starts to feel a little disingenuous.

“It always seemed a little bit nebulous to me- women, men- gender- secondary and otherwise." You shrug, and maybe that's not what Jimin expects from you. Especially with Tae- that you'd have more keen answers for the differences. Not that there were none between the secondary and primary sexes.

His fingers slide down your hip, petting over your hip bone. his touches exploratory, uninhibited as you talk. Waiting for you to check him. He leaves his fingerprints- yellow blue and pink, over the cusp of your hip, and you can tell you're smearing some color beneath you as you shift to let him have his way with you.

Your breath gets heavy as Jimin's touches get bolder and bolder. Petting up and down your thigh as he kisses softly down your chest, hair tickling your skin. He gestures to your boobs, “No biting?”

“Yes but also no. It depends.”

Jimin sighs, pulling himself closer to you, face level with your chest, nudging your nipple with his nose. “That’s frustrating, I’m used to penis rules. No teeth. not ever.”

You bark a laugh, and Jimin touches your chest softly, your nipples pebbled against his palms, a little heavy as he feels their weight. “They’re so-“

“Squishy? Soft?”

“I was going to say weird, why do you have pillows attached to your chest?” you slap his shoulder in retaliation but Jimin’s smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay” You mean it too- you don’t expect Jimin to adjust instantaneously. Maybe it’s too honest for you to confess it, but you understand how love and sexual attraction can be two different things. Jimin might love you because you’re you and might want to show that love in the way he knows how but that doesn’t mean your body won’t at first be very new and very odd to him. Sometimes it takes a second to properly enjoy the people you love.

Tae is the way you find yourselves back to each other. “Did you ever love a woman besides Tae? Before her?” A flash of red lips and a short black bob of hair runs through your mind, but you shove it down and away because no- desperation isn’t the same thing as love.

Jimin continues to touch your chest, his hands moving from cupping them to teasing at the nipple gently, probably the way he’s done to Jungkook before. You can’t say it doesn’t make your tummy start to tighten, the way he does it- unsure but eager.

“Yes and no, I think I had like- crushes maybe? In high school? But never like Tae.”

"Maybe that’s only because I started to love your soulmate after I knew. I never had to change the way I loved her like you did. You've loved her for a long ass time Jimin." Jimin flushes with that- the acknowledgment of it never feels any less lucky. Tae could have been loved by anyone- yet she chose Jimin. Tae has always felt like Jimin's own personal slice of heaven, the only piece he might ever touch.

Jimin looks at you and sees a second sliver, a second chance at salvation. “I've only ever loved her as Tae- not-” You don't say Tae's deadname. To utter it here among all this pink feels sinful when it's done in the name of loving her.

Jimin touches you so reverently, fingers skimming up and down your slit, finger pads pressing against your clit, gentle but explorative.

He watches you, watching your lips part in a soft gasp. The wet glimmer of slick builds, wetting the tips of his fingers. You're so soft and silky down there. knuckles pressed to your mouth to try and keep the sounds in, eyes fluttering shut. Very very pretty in the sunlit room where Jimin can see all of you, the soft fold of your stomach, the freckle on your hip, the one just under your chin.

If freckles hold all of the places that you were kissed in a past life, Jimin thinks you’re going to be covered in them for the next.

You're breathing heavy, but you still find the air to instruct him, “You're doing well- ah- soft touches like that make me feel- Tae likes to feel pretty. I don’t know if it’s like that with all women but-“ You grab his wrist but don’t tug it away, so Jimin keeps drawing endless circles on you, “B-but it’s like that with her. I called her cock pretty once and she came all over me on accident. Said it was just the hormones but-”

“She is really pretty” Jimin’s eyes go far away like he’s thinking about it. And you laugh to bite back a moan. You reach over, pawing at his pants and his belt, making him pull back to take them off not only to make your positions more equal but also because Jimin's all-black outfit is honestly being ruined by all the paint.

You lean back and watch him lift his shirt over his head. “I know! It’s honestly so annoying like- how is it that she was so pretty as a boy and as a girl- I’m honestly so jealous of her sometimes if we’re like-“ you break off. Going quiet wondering how much is normal to reveal. “Talking about gender and stuff.”

Jimin grips your knee, “If I keep going, are you going to tell me when I do something right and when I do something wrong?”

“Of course, but take off your pants first.”

He huffs, but it's all put upon "What a demanding little pup I've got. As you wish."

You’d forgotten that Jimin a quite frankly unfairly pretty cock. Pink at the tip and well-manicured. All of your packmates keep their downstairs area mostly trimmed- the furriest of the bunch being your mate and Namjoon. Somehow you thought Jimin might want to keep it wilder and yet he's smooth. Perfectly manicured.

“Her, but not you,” Jimin says, needing clarification but knowing the answer. your foot hits something wet smearing. The mess gets messier when he jerks you up into his lap, sitting you across it with an impressive show of strength. His cock is wet and hard and pink where it’s pressed against your thigh.

To be mean you arch your hips forward, dragging your clothed cunt across it, Jimin's lips part, and his scent goes thick, like melting vanilla ice cream or baking sugar cones.

The hair on his happy trail tickles your tummy, his hands supporting you as he sets you back against the drop cloth, making sure you don’t bang your head. Jimin holds himself over you, crouching low. “You don’t like to be called pretty- you like to be called cute,” he nips at your collarbones and makes your pulse quicken.

You squirm, but he settles you with a hand on your stomach. “You will get red paint in your hair if you’re not careful.”

He's telling the truth, you know you have to be half-covered with paint by now. You're doing a good job of making the canvas all pretty. He catches your hand, covered with different shades of pink and white spread across your fingertips, and kisses them anyways, a tiny splotch near the edge of his lips.

You’re worried. Of course you're worried about the effect your slick will have on all of them, especially Jimin- who's already at the mercy of his instincts on a good day. And yet, you let him pull himself down, knees sliding through pink and yellow and blue. Tossing your panties into some forgotten less paint splatter corner because they’re actually really fucking cute.

It’s like before Namjoon’s rut, the day you sub-dropped. When Jimin looks up at you to check that this is okay you have the same look on your face; half afraid and half nervous. Like you don’t want to say anything.

Loving Jimin is very good for you because he doesn’t let you stew in those emotions.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I want to do this, I’m not doing this just because I think you’re more likely to suck my dick later, or because I think you deserve to have your pussy eaten- that's last part is like 1/3 of it.”

"Are we describing love with fractions now?" you tease, trying to make it lighter. but your heart hurts, Jimin is so very good at making you feel comfortable. “I always have a hard time believing that.” You confess because today seems to be about honesty. Jimin kisses his way up your inner thigh. Leaving splotches of pink in his wake. “You guys are all so giving, it makes me feel selfish.”

Jimin presses a first slow kiss where you're sensitive. Slowly, Waiting, hurting for you to push him off. You don’t.

“It’s not like that,” he struggles with his words for a second but you’ll wait as long as he needs. “You know how sometimes when you eat food and it makes you full but it tastes so good you only want more?”

“Oh, great now you're comparing me to food" Jimin cuts off your words by pushing your knee to your chest. Unwrapping your pussy for him, the most sensitive part of you wide and open.

“Shut up you know what I mean.” He pales, “I didn’t mean like- shut up literally-“

“Minnie I’m just teasing. I’m not actually upset.” he huffs, but lets you laugh, back against the canvas. "Honestly, I’m just surprised. I didn’t think because of your whole 'I’m a gay alpha thing' that you'd ever want to fuck me. Or if you did we'd at least be with Tae.”

Contrary to what might be believed, the idea of Jimin only wanting you with Tae doesn't hurt you. The truth is that you have so many people now to please; you were sort of okay with Jimin and Tae being a package deal in the bedroom. If only because it makes things on your end slightly easier.

Jimin presses a kiss to your knee, “I want to do more than fuck you- I want to make you cum so many times you cry.”

Your stomach swoops, in a way that might just be you clenching a little at the idea of it. “I don’t think anyone’s ever fucked me till I cried, at least not in the good way.”

Jimin’s growl is a dangerous thing as he pulls himself up to look at you. There’s paint drying on your inner thigh and a whole puddle of it by your hip. And you know you must be a sight. Jimin’s eyes go cold, a little unforgiving at the thought of it and his scent darkens, almost imperceptibly.

You wonder how many people have seen him look exactly like that just before they’ve died under the same touch that makes your heart race. Jimin skims his fingers along your hand, gripping it after a moment, hard, tangled fingers stained with pink and red. Your love for Tae and your other, darker secrets.

“Remind me to piss on your ex’s grave next time we go into the city.”

Your laugh is a bright thing, and you miss Jimin’s smile when he pulls himself back down to your cunt. "In case no one's ever told you, I'm proud of you for killing him. I know it couldn't have been easy.”

You swallow, you don't want to think about that right now, probably the least sexy thing you've ever done. You don't want to think about any of that right now. “You really want to like- Make me cry?”

“Yes,” he says, and even you have to admit that you don’t find any ulterior motive or any sort of underlying motivation in his eyes. Other than wanting, something dark and roiling- an alpha with something to prove. A shaft of daylight cuts across his face, his body.

Jimin’s so pretty. You wonder if he’s this pretty in every universe.

“You’re welcome to try I guess,” Jimin’s fingers brush over the front of your pussy. Keeping his eyes locked with yours as he softly- ever so softly- pets over your pussy. Your breath hitches.

With one hand braced against you Jimin uses his other hand to brush back the top of your cunt, pinning your clit to your pubic bone. Your lips parting around his thumb, his other finger that just barely, teases the top of your hole. You grab his wrist, cursing low.

Every ounce of your self-control goes to keeping yourself from letting out so many embarrassing noises as Jimin draws light circles over your clit. Touching you firmer than before. “You get so wet so fast- it’s precious.” You squeak, jerking when he presses a little harder. Hand flinging out to grab onto something.

It sends a bit of pink paint splattering, and Jimin’s laugh bounces off the high ceiling. A little gets on the wall. You hope Yoongi won't get too angry at you. You and Jimin are going to make the canvases lovely, probably all blotchy and blended together, by the time you're finished here.

It’s hard for you to concentrate, Jimin’s fingers work so diligently, pushing against your hole even as his thumb digs into your clit, you grab his wrist, “gentle” you say, and he slows his pace, “the estrogen makes Tae-“ Jimin slowly drags his thumb down your clit then back up- the hard nub twitches under his touch. “Sensitive. You have to be gentle. Tae likes it gentle, and so do I sometimes.” He remembers the guise of this, you teaching him.

“Sometimes, but not all the time.” You nod, and Jimin continues his slow, torturous circles. “You can be a little bit rough. If it's too much I’ll tell you.” He nods obediently. “Safeword rules still apply?” you ask, because although this isn’t a scene, you can’t help but feel like you might need them.

You don’t know when you started to need them like a safety net. When it started to feel important to have them, But Jimin nods, agreeing. “Of course. They always do with me. I’ll hold you to them.”

The gentle small slap he lands over your cunt has you jumping, cursing, the skin hotter under his touch. "Jin told me you liked that."

"I do- fuck" Jimin alternates, loving the way your whole body jerks when the sensitive part of you is tapped. They're not even rough slaps but you bet the sound of slapping is sounding through the whole house. juxtaposed with the slow pressure that he rubs against your clit, your heartbeat is just under your skin. The slaps make your pussy more sensitive and especially hot when he begins to press kisses there too.

He draws his fingers into a pinch and then drags them up and down your clit, making your legs kick weakly. He does it again just to see you shake. figuring out the best way to toy with you, the quickest way to rile you up.

With cocks- Jimin is used to it being fast and wet and hard, but the slower he goes with you the more it seems to rile you up and push you to the edge. You shouldn’t be so surprised that someone so kissed by Cupid is so good at lovemaking too. (Tae has a thing for people touched by love, you should know by now to trust her judgement.)

His fingers press into your hole gently, crooking up with gentle pressure at the same time he lightly circles his fingers over your clit, fingers glossy with your slick, the glide of them wet and easy. “Do you belive I want you yet? or do i need to spank you cute pussy a few more times for the message to get across?”

You cum on Jimin’s fingers like that, clenching down on them as they press up. With him just sitting there, just watching, eyes transfixed on you. he taps over your clit once, twice, and then a third time before you’re arching away with a jagged exhale. You pawing at his hand to get him to stop or at least slow down.

but he’s true to his word, he doesn’t let you get far. His fingers grip your thighs the chub there dimpling like dough. “I was serious,” he says, eyes bright, “about making you cum so many times you cry.”

You wheeze, and he laughs again. You’ve never heard a laugh that sounded so hot, it’s kind of funny how it goes that way; the more you love someone the hotter the little things about them get.

“Lie back-“ he says, “just let me-” You do- because you’re honestly too boneless to protest right now. He pulls you by the hips through the mess of paint, getting it all on his elbows but he doesn’t care when confronted with you, stretched out like a meal before them. Clit pink from cumming, pussy lips hot under his touch from the spanking, wet hole twitching in invitation. Even though he’s seen you take Namjoon’s cock, it still looks so cute and tiny.

You've come back to yourself enough to tease him. Threading your fingers through his hair as he brazenly watches you. Dismissing the heat in your face as just a conciquence of your orgasam. “If you get paint in my pussy, you better help me clean it later.”

“I’d clean you with my fucking mouth.” He growls against the skin of your inner thigh.

Your retort gets stolen from your throat when he presses his mouth to you.

If you thought Jimin was good at kissing, it’s nothing compared to how he kisses your pussy. Making out with it, his tongue darts out, shy at first. Sending hot licks of pleasure up your stomach. his palm presses flat, against your hip spreading pink and red there. His hand smooths down your knee, and Jimin-

The thing about jimin is that even though he loves giving oral he's never explicitly liked the taste of cock. It was more the fact that it was Tae’s dick that made it good, or Namjoon’s or anyone else’s, that made him love the act of oral so much. Enough to beg for it during rut, to spend countless hours on his knees. To fall asleep during a rut with a soft length in his mouth, mostly Yoongi's, Jungkook's, or Jin's because they're on the smaller side. Happy to have them make his jaw sore.

There is no more complete show of devotion than an alpha getting on their knees for their pack. by comparison, kissing your pussy feels selfish.

At the taste of your, the grating buzz that’s always in his brain- the mental background noise of overstimulation. Like His awareness of the feeling of his knees sliding against the rough cotton drop cloth, the tacky feeling of the paint on his back drying, the tickle of his too-long hair brushing his ears. The vague soreness and hunger in his stomach from eating something that wasn't right earlier. All of that which usually grates on him, that which usually takes from him- all of it goes quiet when your slick hits his tongue.

Jimin's scent thickens, goes so thick it smells just as potent as it does when he's in rut, vanilla cloud covering you, making you leak more.

The second that your slick hits his tongue, the world fades into bliss. The bliss of clean black sheets, the bliss of fuzzy socks on a cold day, of Hobi's sweatshirt that's worn just right at the cuffs or Jin's nest after everyone's slept in it exactly 3 nights after changing the sheets, just enough for it to smell like them and not enough for it to feel dirty.

Your slick tastes like the buzz that fills his head when he touches Tae's hair, like comfort incarnate, when he touches her skin. He leaves his tongue in soft licks, licks that are more about tasting more than giving you pleasure. You don't really notice the difference.

You try to squirm away, clit still sensitive from cumming earlier, but leashes a snarl. Fisting your love handles. His nose brushes your pubic mound, eyes rolling back. Purely animal when he holds you and pin’s you. Fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises later.

Maybe they shouldn't have underestimated what 'addictive slick' really did meant. Because this jimin- is another monster entirely.

His senses, usually friable and bright, like sour candy- go sweet and soft and blissfully quiet. consumed with the quiet of you you you, your slick, hot and sweet on the back of his throat, your warmth, your skin your everything.

jimin wants to keep you right her, right under his tongue, forever.

he pushes your knees up roughly keeping you open and prone for him. You yelp, his teeth teasing at sensitive bits, “Minnie- fuck-”

The growl he lets out is possessive, loud, and echoic in the quiet house, vibrating pressed against your clit. It doesn't end, echoing until his voice goes hard and small.

Your clit is so hard and small. The perfect little nub for Jimin’s lips to toy with. they circle and mouth at it mindlessly. Sucking with gentle pressure just to feel it squish against his tongue. It twitches a little again.

Dicks and clits, they’re not all that different. Only this one- this one doesn’t make Jimin’s jaw ache, doesn’t cut off his breathing. This one's so small it lets him let out soft huffs pressed to slick skin, his hands go hard around your fluffy thighs, spreading pink. When he sucks again your hand goes from a puddle of white paint to his hair, painting it.

“Fuck- Jimin-”

All too soon you’re shaking, Jimin’s soothing growls making your pleasure spike wildly, especially when he looks up from between your thighs, eyes wild and hair messy,

You cum against his mouth. But this time when you try to squirm away Jimin pulls you back by your hips. You try to twist away, but Jimin doesn't let you go, yanking you back by your knees to bend over his face, keeping your cunt right where he wants it. His voice sounds darker, rougher- than you've ever heard it, "squirmy little omega, let alpha taste you. don’t you want to be good for me?"

Maybe you should have been more careful, but even at the rough treatment you drip onto the canvas, and you wonder if your slick will stain it too. You can do little more than rest your face against a piece of dry canvas and try not to cum again so soon. You don’t have the brain cells to respond, not when Jimin licks you like that.

Jimin continues to snarl, throat raw, “Poor little thing, like alphas tongue so much that it made you a little fucked out huh? A little dumb omega? You don’t have to worry pup, alphas got you. Alpha doesn't mind if you're a little messy, I'll take care of you.”

It takes you another orgasam before you're squirting. Your pussy's hot beneath his tongue, ravished and licked so much you can hardly keep your knees under you. Half supported by Jimin's hands as he keeps you on his mouth even as you try and squirm away and save yourself from the embarrassment. The hot gush of slick misses his mouth, trickling down his throat and wetting his collarbones. You'd be embarrassed if you weren't trying so hard not to pass out.

Jimin is going to turn making you squirt into a fucking art form.

But surprisingly, you’re just hiccupping not crying yet. So he keeps going. One orgasm bleeds into another, as one hour becomes two. Sometimes when you squirt, it's just a trickle, other times, it's wet and messy and almost /loud/ for the way that Jimin snarls. He tries every angle, palm pressed to your stomach, fingers inside of you pressing up just under his tongue, lapping at your clit like a lollipop, all of it.

even pressing in deeper, rubbing gently at the spot where namjoon bread you barely last week, a spot so deep that only your alphas have touched, that jimin strokes over just to hear you squeek. his mouth runs an endless trail of filth, sometimes it’s “you’ve got such a cute little breeding hole, so sweet i have half a mind to keep you plugged and full all the time, such a cute hole deserves to be kissed and fucked” other times it’s "give it to me, fuck- please- i need it-"

Your legs are jelly, trembling uncontrollably and Jimin's fingers are Pruny by the time it truly starts to get too much. He’s slick drunk and crazy on the drive to wrench one more orgasam from you. His cock lying hard and unattended against his thigh, dripping thick white cum. The pleasure fading from good to painful, one orgasm wrenched from your body after another, unyielding.

our clit is so sensitive that even his pressing the flat of his tongue and lapping at your clit makes you see stars, makes you scrabble against the paint-colored floor and try to get away.

"Can't take anymore," you whimper, "please alpha- s'too much."

Jimin pulls back, giving you a second to catch your breath, before he presses a hand to your lower back and forces you back down. "That's not a safeword pup. If you really want me to stop. Say it."

You hiccup, but you can't you can't safeword because you know deep down- you really do want him to make you cry. You really do what to see what lies over the next cup, the next minute he spends taking you apart.

It's the pussy spanking that finally takes you over that edge.

He's unrelentingly diligent with taking you apart, alternating between rubbing tight circles and tapping your clit as he suckles at your hole, wrenching another few drops of slick from you with every tap, until he pauses, and drags his teeth over you. You're already jerking away from sensitivity when he pulls back and lands a hard spank over your sensitive clit.

You think you actually might pass out for a second.

When you come too, there's not only a puddle underneath your hips- but also wetness on your lashes, your mouth, hiccuping sobs as the pleasures finally stopped, and Jimin, wet cheeks and all, licks your tears from your face too. “good omega, alpha loves you so much, such a good little pet for me.”

Jimin licks your slick from his lips, wet and messy from you, glossy almost, he bends down, prostrate, kissing the pink splotch on your tummy, “I swear to fucking god-”Jimin does swear to God, in the confines of his own head, that unless Tae gets that surgery in particular, your pussy will be the only one he ever tastes.

He pulls himself up to your level, answering the weak twitch of your arms with his own around your middle. You’re hiccupping too much to speak and shivering too hard to stay still. Your alpha is hot beneath your touch, the mess of your body and his body, not just paint but slick and sweat and tears, all pressed together like a balm to everything. The tightness in your chest released, you sob and it’s a good thing.

Something wretched and broken slips out, Jimin presses a kiss over your heart, covering you with his body, with no foe as witness, when there is nothing to protect you from.

The kiss Jimin presses to your mouth is just as soft as the ones he pressed to your pussy. You grimace at the taste of your slick, but Jimin is having none of it, cupping the back of your neck and soothing your cries with a few more kisses.

“Can you give me one more sweetheart?” His cock is pressing up against your hip, hot, dripping, and insistent. You sniffle but nod. You just want him close.

He pulls your hips through the mess of your slick, turning smudge of red paint all pastel-ly and more watercolor than acrylic as it bleeds.

He feeds his cock into your hungry entrance, still clenching hard around nothing. It feels like you’re still cumming. You don't know if Jimin kept track or if you could put a number to your orgasms if you tried.

You sniffle. And he tugs you along the warm line of his body. Nosing along your cheek. Keeping your bodies pressed close as he rocks his hip deep. Jimin’s stamina must be endless, each roll of his hips is punishing and firm, grinding the head of his cock in deep. He grinds more than thrusts, nudging the sensitive spots he explored with his fingers.

Jimin pulls your hands away from your face, looking down, fixing you with a look as he does it again, encouraging another weak pulse and hot clench.

Jimin gets more and more mouthy the closer he gets, he almost talks like Namjoon did in rut when he gets slick drunk. “Gonna fuck you so deep you feel it for days, gonna fuck you so deep there's no way it doesn't take, fuck- you’re mine- you’re fucking mine.” you let out a broken mewl and Jimin tucks his face into your shoulder.

Jimin doesn't need any schooling, he just needs to love Tae just like this, and they'll be fine.

Jimin grinds his hips in at just the right angle and it forces a rough brutal noise from your throat. A sob that he kisses away. He holds your hips using them for leverage as he breeds you. Hair hanging over his eyes and tickling your brow as he works you closer and closer. The canvas slides against the plastic, but even if you have rug burn later- it will have been fucking worth it.

“Fuck- I’d do anything for you.” You know it’s true. Despite what happened before. You know now all of that has changed now.

Your fingers leave red splotches against his stomach, and Jimin trembles. His body over sensitive from all the pleasure, from keeping his orgasam off for so long

“Would you kill for me?” You ask quietly. Jimin doesn’t stop his pace, doesn’t stop his movements.

You think about Yoongi and that night more than you’re willing to admit; You think about his face, bruised and screwed into a snarl, holding the gun to Geumjae but unable to pull the trigger. You know he couldn't for more than one reason; both because killing him could have killed you and because it was his brother.

But at the same time, You don’t know if one day the memory will ever make you feel anything but emptiness. A bleak almost disappointment. Sure- he’d been willing to bind his soul to yours to keep you alive. He’d devoted himself to you wholly and completely since but-

But maybe that was partially to ease his guilt. Guilt and love. Love and guilt. Are they really so different? Yoongi loves you. You know this as surely as you know that the sun will rise tomorrow. But even he hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. You had to do it instead.

"I'm proud of you for killing him, I know it must not have been easy"

Watching Jimin fuck you within an inch of your life, you decide you don’t know if that makes Yoongi a better man than Jimin, or a worse one.

Jimin leans his body low over yours, grinds his cock in deep, and presses his lips to your ear. “Kill for you? I’d do worse.” Jimin drives his cock deeper. Chasing his own release now, not just yours.

“For you and Tae, I’d do fucking anything.”

You squirt around his knot, just a trickle of it as it starts to inflate. He doesn’t stop fucking it back and forth, simple millimeters that tug more squirt from you as it fills you up and tugs at your sensitive entrance. You wet the red on his stomach with how hard you clench down making it dribble.

There’s even a splotch of red on his shoulder, milky white and crimson. Both of you are absolutely covered in paint.

Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever going to get tired of it as he takes a bit of your slick and presses it to his tongue. My sweet pup. our sweet pup the voice devoted to Tae reminds him in his head. Of course, she deserves the most delectable omega in existence, of course, this sweetness is worth protecting.

Of course, I’d kill for you.

It's your taste that drives him over the edge that makes his knot twitch and cum start to fill you up, locked deep inside of you. Your abdomen tightens against his as he cums. You’re so warm and wet, so comfortable as he rocks into you. knot too inflated to yank it out.

The instinct to breed and claim there as he drags his teeth up the Column of your throat and makes you keen. Your hand buried in his hair, the other resting between his shoulder blades, nails resting against his skin, tired of scratching although you’ve already left your marks on his skin. Up and down his back

Afterward, it’s comparatively quiet.

He flips you over so that you can rest against his chest. He’s warm and hot underneath you. Warm enough that you don’t feel the cold or lack of covering. Knotted together as close as you can be Jimin lets your sniffles quiet. His fingers paint mindless circles over your lower back as your breathing slows. Pressing kisses against the top of your head, your cheek against his chest, listening to the rapid thud of his heartbeat slow.

Even though you’re quiet, your mind races. Slowly treading toward dangerous territory. Tae’s voice, the memory of Tae’s words- “Minnie. I don’t think I want you to touch me right now, please just- please don’t”

It’s you who dares to punctuate the quiet. “Did you want to do this because of what happened during Namjoon’s rut?”

“Maybe.”

You lift your head, “Have you and Tae talked about it yet?” Jimin tips his throat up towards the ceiling, the cracked plaster that Yoongi hasn’t yet fixed. Avoiding your gaze. He just ate you out, but he can't look at you when you ask about this.

Jimin’s hand continues its endless circles across your sternum, winding down and down.

“To be honest, I don’t know if we’ll ever talk about it.”

~-~

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creatingnikki · 11 months ago

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What I've learned in 2023 (part I)

i. Compatibility is what you are looking for. A compatible home, a compatible partner, a compatible workplace, a compatible friend circle. Compatible with who you are as a person and the kind of life you want to live. Compatible so that you don’t constantly have to use so much of your energy in trying to fight unnecessary battles simply to exist how you are. When the spaces you are in and the people you are with are not compatible with your existence the way it is, the way you want it to be, there will be constant chaos, distress, and conflict for which you will have to use so much energy. But if you are in compatible spaces with compatible people – not ideal, not perfect, simply compatible – then you can use that energy towards creating and building things that matter to you. Because your everyday choices? They are not being questioned, judged, or blocked.

ii. Lessons will keep repeating themselves until you've learned them. So you have to start paying attention. Realizations in themselves are not lessons learned. Change in actions and thought processes is. So, yes, lessons will keep repeating themselves until you learn them. And even once you have learned them. It's like with how we learned the same subjects in school year after year. Just because you learned Geography in grade 5, does not mean you still did not have to in grades 6, 7, 8, and so on. Life lessons too have additional layers, context, and depth. It can all feel very Sisyphean. But the boulder is never the exact same twice. Similar but not identical.

iii. Just because he was a puppy before, does not mean he is not a कुत्ता (dog) right now.

iv. 인연 (in-yeon) is the fate specific to the meeting of two people, the ties two people share over the course of their lives. Someone you have perhaps comes across in your past life/lives in various capacities. And so, yes, when you come across someone you feel comfortable with, can have meaningful conversations with effortlessly, feel a ‘connection’ with, feel the 인연 with it feels special. But 인연 is also the fate of this life. Maybe in this life you’re only meant to share this very limited, very brief, 인연 with someone. Even if you feel this deep connection. Maybe in this life they are not meant to be your soulmate or your best friend. Maybe they are only meant to be your professor or your neighbour. Let it be so. Accept that fate, accept this life’s 인연 with them. No matter the intensity of the connection. Again, let things run their natural course. There is no other way.

v. I am an open book that even a blind man can read. An open book so heavily and aesthetically self-annotated that people can play me like a fool just for shits and giggles. And while I have started to appreciate humour a lot more in life, I am not okay with my candidness, earnestness, and vulnerability being mocked, manipulated, or misused. I am still not clear on how to protect myself in this aspect but I do know two things clearing — first, forcing myself to change who I am at my most authentic core is not the answer. Second, there, however, does need to be some protection. Think of yourself like a special edition, rare precious book in a fancy, restricted-access library. Only members, who loves books, who value books, who take great care of them, and have a track record of doing so can borrow the book/check it out of the library. Essentially, you must be more mindful of who gets access to you. And like you can continue being your real, authentic self, but you do not have to be that all the time and with everybody.

vi. Speaking about vulnerability, let's talk about the semantics of it for a bit. It's The word 'vulnerability' is derived from the Latin word 'vulnus' which literally means — the ability to wound. Why? Why would you do that with people you don't yet know well + trust to be safe? That's why one of the lessons of this year is the realization to get rid of this blanket vulnerability. It's not some sort of strength, it's simply dangerous.

vii. On that note, conversations, even emotional conversations cannot be an indicator of the actual real (lasting) comfort and intimacy and trust between you and the other person. That only happens naturally over time.

viii. So, yeah, timing and time? It is your friend; not a bitch. Allow people and things time to run their course and reveal themselves to you. There’s no need to feel anxious or responsible to make things with somebody flow a certain way because at the end of the day, no matter what you say or do, things will pan out the way they are meant to. So, trying to rush things, trying to lowkey orchestrate them, or putting so much thought into things like how you’re punctuating your texts is futile. What is meant to be is meant to be and feeling FOMO when it comes to people and relationships only really happens when you create elaborate scenarios in your head before even getting to know somebody.

ix. Capturing everything more in videos instead of pictures is precious. That motion of your friend kissing your cheek and that motion of the street cat moving her tale in and out of the sunshine falling on the ground is what you really want to capture and look back on.

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justroaminground · 1 year ago

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heat of the moment (Sam Winchester x Reader)

summary: you have deep feelings for sam and there is this one point where everything just escalates. it ends in hot and rough sex.

warnings: NSFW, smut, 18+, rough language, getting physical, fluff, oral

Enjoy and if there are any requests feel free to leave them. Sorry for mistakes i am sure you get the point. ;) xx

+++++++++++++++

there are no words in the world to describe how you feel about sam. deep down you always felt so calm and safe around him. the feelings slowly but steady got stronger and without being aware he meant..too much? the topics you two had were always very casual and not very deep. just like the ones with dean. the three of you keep a close relationship and it can get emotional, but you tend to keep it light hearted. the hunting itself was serious enough. you've spent quite some time with the two of them now, but started to have very deep feelings for sam. there was no way for you to ever express them to him. love did and always will make things more complicated, so it seems only logical to simply keep them to yourself.

the three of you were sitting in the library of the bunker, reading one book after the other just to understand what lucifers next steps could be or what the heck the current occasions meant. your head pounded and you startet to squint your eyes from time to time, since it felt like your head was about to explode from getting too much information at once.

"ugh..guys i feel like my head is about to explode!" you grunted rushing your hands through your hair.

"literally have been doing this for ages, but I will never get used to it. so i get it pricess." dean sighed.

sam laughed and smirked like an idiot . "well not to be a know-it-all, but i for sure could do this for years! i guess, thank you to the almost started lawyer career!

"i would have loved to see you in a courtroom" you answered cheekily.

before sam was able to answer a cold breeze streaks your body and uncertain you spun around. Unfortunately too quick and knocked a glass from the table.

"Cas!" relieved seeing him a smiled formed on your lips.

castiel bit his lower lip and took a deep breath. "it confuses me how you guys don't get used to me" he stated in a monoton voice sighting.

you rolled your eyes laughing. trying to get up, without standing into the puddle, to clean the mess. you get pushed back down onto the chair and looked up at a warm smile from sam.

"let me get that for you" he pointed onto the mess on the floor and left the library.

insecure you nodded your head and got out of the space so he could clean it up.

"so?! do you have news or simply showed up to make us jump?!" dean pointed out and got up. he leaned at the side of the table and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

the two of them got into a heavy conversation about the latest news about lucifer pretty quick, but you couldn't really follow. your head still pounded like crazy. you made your way to the kitchen to get some painkillers.

before you got into the kitchen you walked past sam and gave him a little smile.

"everything alrighty?" he checked up on you and eyed you up and down.

you looked at him for a second and let the image of him standing there sink in. the hair falling down on his forehead and hung a bit onto his face. jaw clenched, eyes piercing through you. his broad shoulders and muscular body covered in a dark colored flannel. the strong arms and large hands holding the kitchen cloth. you swallowed hard, but played it cool of course.

"yeah course no worries, just can't see any books no more for today!" you turned your back to him, rubbed your forehead and made it into the kitchen. pressed your lips together and exhaled deeply as you heard him walking away slightly laughing.

"take your time this evening, we will stay at the bunker anyway!" he called back.

you took a pill against the evil pain and made your way out of the kitchen. hearing the three of them talking and you decided to head back to your room.

leaning the door shut, you let your clothes fall to the floor and made your way into your bathroom. since the bunker is so big, everyone of you has their own bathroom. thank god! you wouldn't want to share your bathroom with one of the guys.

dimming the lights in the bathroom you let the water fill up the tube and add your favorite scent. your eyes adjusted and relaxed to the relaxed mood. it has been ages since you took a bath, but need one so desperately. there just never seemed enough time to fully rest, so you always went with the showers. the past few months have been extra rough. not even sleep has gotten you out of the misery.

carefully you slipped into the warm water and let it hug your body. silently hissing and cursing over the pain it gave you when the water reached some wounds or sore spots. finally sitting in there you laid your hands around your body and just let the feeling of calmness sink in.

you may not be feeling the best, but enjoy every second around these guys. cas, dean and sam have been family to you every since. even though there were those feelings about sam you couldn't really get under control. staring at the ceiling your thoughts ran off. the silence was so loud in your head.

you just couldn't help, but think of sam again. how he was standing there. his tall and broad frame. his strong gaze, staring up and down at you with worry in his eyes. he was naturally such a warm hearted person and always made sure each and everyone is okey. taking a deep breath you allowed yourself to sink just a bit more into your thoughts about him.

in your head, you framed him one more time from head to toe. slowly your head falls to the side and you softly stroke along your arm. imagining how it would feel like to touch him. it wasn't like you never touched him, but just never in a deeper..sensual way.

you imagined the same situation from before in your hand. standing in front of him and laying your hand gently on his. softly stroking upwards to his forearm and stopping just above his elbow. feeling his warm skin through the flannel you moved even closer and rested your head on his chest. looking up at him, to make sure he is okey with what you were doing. feeling strong hands wrapping you up safely. you buried your face back into his chest and imagines it so strongly, it felt real.

a well known warmth flowed through you. feeling your body reacting very strong to these thoughts you tensed up, because it felt so wrong feeling all of these things and imagining those situations. getting completely lost in your daydream your body can no longer tell the difference between reality and thoughts.

with that you felt how you were getting aroused, pressing your legs against eachother, sitting up in the tube trying to knock logical thinking back into you mind. "get your shit together" mumbling to yourself you rubbed your eyes.

"AHA! chilling while we're doing the work?!" dean stormed into the bathroom without hesitation and looked at you with a bright smirk on his face.

"WHAT THE HELL DEAN?!" you cried out and some water splashed to the ground. you laughed a bit, but looked back up at him. "i need a break sorry, thought i'd take the night off"

"uh.. I'm sorry just wanted to scare you.." he admits while taking a few steps back. "yeah i get that no worries! sam just told me you weren't seeming okey. i wanted to check up on you."

considering the thoughts you just had, you feelt really uncomfortable. feeling caught in something very private. you were able to feel the heat burn in your checks and looked at dean hoping he would finally leave since scaring you already worked!

"everything is fine just..you know it has been rough" you assured him with a little nod and chewed on the inside of your cheek.

"may i?" he pointed to the bathtube edge.

"yeah sure" you confirmed to him.

settling down next to you he gave you a soft an warm look. you already knew what was about to come, but talks like this were needed here and there.

"sam and i grew up like this. it was always our destiny and it will always be. i told you this many times, but you do not have to do this. you have the choice of having a normal life.." his voice echoing calmly through the bathroom. looking straight in your eyes and making sure you really took in what he just told you.

"dean i choose to do this with both of you. i want to be here. you two are like family to me." trying to explain what is going on in your head you gave him a weak smile and shrugged your shoulders.

while smirking he looked down onto the floor and back at you. he placed a kiss on your forehead and nodded. "stubborn like a winchester."

letting out a laugh you slapped his shoulder and point to the door. "you need to go now! i need some rest from you two idiots! "

dean held up his hands in defense and made his way to the door. "never speak up against a woman" he left the bathroom and closed the door.

letting yourself fall back and sink down into the tube again. silence filled the room and you were able to hear sam and dean talking.

"did she say anything?" sam questioned dean.

"you listened why are you asking?!" dean stated laughing.

"that is not true!" sam defended himself and you laughed out silently. feeling flattered at the fact, sam is checking up on you through dean.

"well ask her yourself." dean insisted.

"dean you know damn well you're having a way better connection to here than i am. she would never open up to me like she does to you" sam explained to dean and you held your breath afraid of not being able to hear everything.

you never really thought about it, but he was right. you kind of kept yourself distanced from sam. being afraid you won't be able to control yourself. showing him too much how you feel about him. so keeping him at distance seemed like the right thing to do.

not wanting to think about all of that anymore you got up and finished the bath with a shower. stopping yourself from listening to the rest of the conversation. making yourself clear again why you are here, here were way more important things to do then to follow your stupid feelings. you pushed them aside like always and distracted yourself.

dressed in a fresh set of pj's you were getting ready for bed. before you left your room you were making sure the hallways are empty and sneaked into the kitchen. you went straight for the kettle to make yourself some goodnight tea. you got disturbed by the other winchester.

"gosh you're still up?" speaking into sam's direction you kept yourself bussy setting up the kettle.

"uh, yeah couldn't sleep yet" he confirmed without looking up from his laptop.

nodding your head, you got back to your kettle and waited until the water was boiling. while preparing your cup and tea you could feel his gaze on your back. you tried to shake it off, but the feeling just got very intense. looking over your shoulder to sam you were looking straight into his eyes.

"would you mind, making me one too?" he asked softly and pointed to the cups.

"course not!" you whispered softly back. kinda disappointed at the fact he was just staring, because he wanted something. you prepared his cup. noticing the teas are empty. you looked for them in the drawer not being able to find one more teabag.

"i think we need to get some. don't find any in here" you told him while searching in the other drawers.

"in the cupboard above the coffeemachine we still have some" sam explained and tipped on his laptop.

"oh right thanks" nodding your head you made your way to the coffeemachine. stretching up to the cupboard trying to reach the pack of teabags.

feeling a warm and strong body right behind yours you completely freez in shock. sam.

"let me get that for you." sam mumbled while reaching up to get them for you.

his body is pressed up against yours which made you grip onto the kitchencounter very aggressively. a wave of heat rolled over your body and you took deep breath. within seconds the body contact stopped and he stepped back handing them to you.

slightly dazed from what just happened you turn to him and took them.

"not everyone was granted to be that tall!" you laughed it off. trying to loosen up the tensed situation you turned to the kettle and took it off the heat.

with a laugh he settled back onto this chair and nods. "well it is curse and blessing" sam spoke up.

you're settling down on the chair in front of him and placed his cup next to his laptop.

"well I think being that tall is always a blessing"

"mhm..help me to understand that?"

"maybe i will find the right words after a good 8 hours of sleep" you laughed and leaned in your chair.

he kept his stupid smirk and looked back down to his laptop and licks his lower lip. you bite down hard onto your molars and followed with your gaze, how his tongue traced along his lower lip. getting to comfortable with watching him like that you nervously got up.

"so i see you're really bussy. don't wanna distract you. i will just head back to my room." bursting out a bit too insecure you pushed the chair back to the table and gave him a tired smile.

"you're not distracting me in any bad way.." he cleared his throat looking at you. "could need a smart head like yours, helping me with these cryptic texts." he pointed to his laptop and nods, pressing his lips together.

"love to solve a good mystery" you confidently talked back and took a seat right next to sam. taking a deep breath you pushed away all disturbing thoughts and settled into working mood.

hours passed by like minutes and you found yourself leaning against the wall sitting on the table and sam walked the kitchen up and down.

"Genesis 3:16 – To the woman he said, “I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labor you will give birth to children. Your desire will be for your husband, and he will rule over you.” you repeat the text on the laptop and looked over to sam. "sounds pretty sadistic to me" you added while raising a eyebrow.

"I do not know by any means, why the devil quotes this from the bible and I hope we won't find out." sam let out a exhausted breath while walking towards the table.

"I think you need some rest now, well we do!" you told him while carefully sliding from the table.

"Yeah you're probably right.." sam nodded and smiled.

wanting to make your way to the door, sam grabbed your wrist and softly pulled you into a hug.

"sleep well" he whispers against your hair and you found yourself wrapping your arms around his torso. you buried your face in his chest and inhaled his scent. your body takes in every second, feeling him this close.

"heard you're very tired. take your time and rest." he whispered against your hair and stroke your back. giving yourself completely to him, you can already feel your body craving so much more.

"thank you sam, i will" looking up to him smiling and you buried your face into his chest once again. you left the kitchen heading back to your room. As soon as you got into your room you closed the door desperately.

"holy fuck" you whisper to yourself, locking the door and crawled into bed. at the end of the day you were just human, made of flesh, emotions and consciousness. feeling the need to satisfy yourself you strip your cloths off to the floor and relaxed into bed.

the heat in your body and especially between your legs made you weak. you needed to touch yourself, you had to satisfy your craving. it suddenly felt so hard controlling yourself around sam and you were finally able to give yourself away to those feelings.

your warm hands found their way along your body. stroking it and caring for it. goosebumps crossed your body and a quiet whimper left your lips. imagining those strong hands all over your body you felt your body tens up.

fingers made their way between your legs and fingertips gently stroke your sensitive spot. another quiet whimper left your mouth and your abdomen pressed needy against your fingers.

getting hungry for your orgasm. your thoughts got filthier and your hands rougher. your body winded from one position to the other and literally screamed for more. it was not just your body craving for more, but your soul was begging for more. pressing your face into a pillow you, hunting down your long awaited release. your sweaty body pressed into the mattress, twitching and messed up. you can already feel your walls clench around your fingers.

convulsively you moved two fingers in and out of your wet and heated tightness finding yourself half sitting by now. your head rested on your shoulder and your mouth falls open as you can already feel the heat overcoming you.

"i know now why lucifer quotes the bibel!" fully excited you heard sam knocking on your bedroom door.

full on scared you let out a unexpected scream and your orgasm just vanished. breathing heavy you looked around embarrassed trying to find something to cover up.

"are you okey?!" worried sam knocked one more time on the door and panic arises in your chest.

"sam you scared me! i-i was already asleep what the fuck!" unable to find the right words you stumbled what seems to sound right in this situation and you put you pj's back on.

still breathing heavy you opened up your bedroom door. with flustered cheeks you look up at him. sam stood there only wearing his pj's trousers, shirtless looking at you full on concerned.

"uhm..sure" he raised an eyebrow and eyed you from head to toe. "i didn't mean to..disturb i guess" he added while tracing every detail on your face with his gaze.

"oh shut up, get your ass in here and explain the quote now!" you distracted him from further guessing what you just did and moved back to your bed. cheeks were still burning red from what you just did and to be fair your body still felt kinda weak and your head dizzy.

"i think this can wait until tomorrow. for now you really just need some time off!" sam pointed at you and puts his hand onto his hips.

not really thinking, but just going after your instincts you allow yourself to let your eyes wander along his body. maybe a one time thing won't harm anyone? maybe you will finally realize it's just sex you're in need for and not sam? eyes slowly found their way back up to sam's and you find a very amused grin on his face. your cheeks turned red from zero to ten real quick and you just turned away. it's all or nothing right now right?! whatever you were done with holding it back and decided to let the tiger out.

"no need to be ashamed love. at the end of the day we're all just human." sam filled the silence with this low and soft voice. breaking the carousel of thoughts in your head.

having the strong desire to take control you take a deep breath and moved your body on the bed to the edge. ready to play the game he just started. you bit your lower lip, slightly tilted your head to the side and parted your lips to speak.

"not just, that you're disturbing me while i am enjoying my me-time." you paused to slowly undressing your pj's bottom, to leave you in a oversized shirt, fuzzy socks and a thong. "you dare to come in here with only your bottoms not even wearing a shirt?" sam's face get's from pretty confident to shocked real quick, but that just but's more gas into the fire for you. "how outraged of you to behave like that in front of a woman" taking the soft seam between your fingers and undress your shirt next, which leaves you in only your thong and fuzzy socks in front of him. exposing your body to him. "i am disappointed sammy." the last words leave your mouth as dirty whisper while observing every single facial muscle.

sam is not able to hide his lust in any way. his eyes darkened halfway through your show and his jaw so clenched sonhard, it must be hurting. his dark grey bottoms gave you a very good sight of how hard he got. his clearly visible boner pressing against his sweatpants "never thought that this much of kinky whore sleeps in you, y/n." never in all those years you have heard his voice so deep and raspy, sending shivers through your body. pressing together your tights you couldn't hide a naughty smirk.

"maybe the angels heard my dirty prayers and made them come true." you whispered and gently moved your hips on the bed.

"i don't think the angels work for demons." sam eyed you up and down and bites his lower lip. stroking his boner through his sweatpants he took one step closer to you.

"you're calling me a demon? how can such offending words leave your mouth?" fucking turned on you can't help, but started to stroke your boob with one hand. "i mean i know you're having a sweet spot for demons..sammy"

sam pressed his lips together and it was glas clear you just hit a very sensitive spot. his eyes got darker and it seemed like a switch got flicked. "you sure you wanna play like that? not sure if you can handle that." he turned and checked the hallway to see if dean was somewhere near. he closed the door and locked it, turning back to you.

every step he made you watched him closely. your heart pounded heavy against your chest and you felt tingling in your stomach. "oh..i don't think dean would like the way you're talking to me sammy." with a huge smirk on your face, you bit your lower lip and played with you nipple. a soft moan escaped your lips and your body craved his touch.

"fucking tease, you little whore." he stepped right in front of you and but his hand into your hair at the back of your head. rough but hot he pulls your head back and makes you look up at him. your heart jumped and you couldn't hold the excitement.

"i like your determination. remembers me of the good old days your soul burned in hell." you whispered and placed one hand on his upper stomach slowly making your way down to his waistband. giving him a dirty look while smirking.

he took your hand into his and pushed it aside. he leaned down to you and looked straight into your eyes. you watches his almost black eyes from lust and gazed at him with your purest innocent look. "he's still in here and i will let him play with you tonight. he will fuck the innocence out of this pretty body. "his low raspy voice made you shiver even more and your breath started shaking. he observed your needy body and placed a kiss on your jawline. placing more kisses along your neck. he let go of your hair and pulled you up. you wrapped your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. crashing your lips hungrily against his. he bit softly onto your lower lip and deepened the kiss. heavy breathing filled the room and your craving got stronger.

"touch me and use me" you managed to plead against his lips and your pressed your chest against his.

"oh i will. i will fuck you like a whore. " he whispered harsh and placed you back onto the bed. he hovered above you and started kissing and softly biting your soft skin from your neck to your boobs. making your body arch up against his in need of his body. you pressed your thigh against his crotch feeling his hard member.

sam's hand roamed along your body and cared for every inch in need of his touch. he got up and took the back of your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

"sit for me like a nice angel." he growled and got down onto his knees.

you sat up feeling weak and dizzy from all the hormones rushing through your body. "as long as you fuck me like the devil.." you sweetly talked back and supported yourself with your hands in the mattress.

he literally ripped off your thong and just threw it to the side. his hands push your thighs apart and his head buried between your legs. his warm breath and soft tongue made you explode on the inside and you couldn't help but let out a moan full of relish while gripping his hair.

"oh fuck sammy!" you moaned under your breath and pushed his head a bit more against your wet center.

his fingers grab hard onto your thighs and you could feel his tongue slipping into you, just teasing you as he pulled away and made you look at him.

"call me sammy one more time and you will regret it." he stated and got up.

Needing a moment to process what he just told you, you nooded quickly and watched him getting up.

"please let me taste you." you whimpered quietly at the loss of his touch and your facial features showed pure innocence. very turned on by this sam. he lays one hand onto your cheek and strokes over your lips with his thumb.

"you want to suck me cock little angel? then ask for it. be a good girl and ask for it like a decently angel. " sam commands while holding the very intense eye contact.

"l-let me suck you off sammy" not being able to help yourself, but tease him to the very edge.

his hand let's go of your cheek and lands on your cheek with a very dominated slap. your head falls to the side and a filthy smirk crosses your face. it hurt but just in the right ways. a sparkle lights up in your eyes and you looked back at him. his hand stroke over the cheek and to your throat, squeezing it slightly but just enough.

"on your knees. now." he hissed, lascivious eyes staring into your soul. he let go of your neck and pulled his sweatpants down. revealing his rock hard cock ready for you to take every inch of it.

you wasted no second and dropped to your knees. you took his cock into your hand and spit on it. stroking it a few times before you took him into your mouth. swirling your tongue around his tip and full on taking him inch by inch.

"that dirty little mouth!" sam breathed out and grabbed your hair. not just sucking him of but giving him a full on show by playing with yourself and moaning against his cock.

As you felt him twitching in your mouth you took him in even deeper gagging at his length, waiting desperately for him to come in your mouth.

without any warning he pulls you back and shakes his head. "No. you won't get me just yet." he pulled you up onto your feed and pushed you back onto the bed.

"p-please sam just..." not able to finish your sentence you looked up at him helpless gripping the bedsheets.

laying on top of you, he pushed your legs apart from each other with his hands and you let your head fall back to bed. closing your eyes and giving yourself away to sam and trust him with every inch of your body.

"look at me" he demanded. "i wanna see the hurt on your face, when you have to take it all in at once."

your eyes swung open and you looked up at him. your hands rested on his biceps and you wiggled your hips slightly. "fuck me sam!" you begged desperately. he pushed his full length into you and stopped for a minute. your eyes widened and you moaned out.

"fucking -" you clawed into his biceps and felt yourself stretch around him. "use me for whatever you want me.." you breathed out against his neck and sucked on his soft skin.

he started to thrust in and out of you. going faster at times and slowing down thrusting harder into you. with every thrust you felt yourself coming closer. your sight got dizzy and you clawened onto sam. taking him full in, feeling your craving being fulfilled. you felt so many feelings at once it overwhelmed you.

sams grip on your thighs got rougher and his thrust sloppier. "you're so tight, you feel so good my little angel" he moand raspy and moved one hand from your tight to your abdomen. his hand pushed softly down and with his cock he reached that one spot which pushed you over the edge.

"h-holy fuck i'm gonna cum sam" you cried out and he placed one hand onto your mouth.

"cum for me!" he moaned out and gave you very deep and hard thrusts. you rolled your eyes back and your head dropped back onto the bed. with shaking legs you pushed your pelvis up against him and your hands fell weak onto the bed.

he took your pelvis into his big hands and pushed himself a few more times into you. suddenly the time seems to stand still and your body tensed up. your mouth fell open and wave of energy flows through your body. moaning out his name, while your walls tightened around his thick cock you came and it felt like complete ecstasy.

sam pushed himself deep into you and let out a heavy moan. he supported himself with one hand onto the bed right besides your body and the other hand still on your pelvis.

"you drove me crazy, y/n" sam breathed exhausted and his hair hung onto his face.

you looked up at him feeling high and drunk from all of the feelings you just went through. "come here, please" your voice breaks and you try to reach up for him.

he pulls himself gently out of you and laid down besides you. his strong arms wrapped you up safely and hugged you. you pressed yourself against his body closing your eyes.

you gently stroke his chest and placed a kiss on it. "it may make things more complicated, but you don't know how much i craved for this.." without really think about it you confessed to him.

"we do not have do make it complicated. let's see where it leads us." he placed a kiss on your head and let go of you just a bit so he could look into your eyes. "i never knew you felt this way not the slightest bit. to be honest i thought you're into dean."

you laughed embarrassed against his chest and looked back up at him. "i was afraid of losing you and dean. i guess it was self protection?"

"well stop protecting yourself!" he laughed, hugging you closer again and you took a deep breath taking his scent in. you closed your eyes and fell asleep in his arms.

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