#idk didn’t feel like having to draw to share the au again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

borathae · 2 years ago

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“Yoongi tries to fight the restraints, having come to realise that they won’t budge. No matter how hard he tries, he won’t find freedom through fighting. He huffs out air, dropping his head in exhaustion. So here he is. On his knees with a blindfold over his eyes and his arms tied up above his head. He is your prisoner now. His fate is to take what you give him.”

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut, BDSM

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, mean Dom!Reader, bratty masochist!Yoongi, abduction roleplay, prisoner roleplay, he is fighting being her captive just so she can put him into his place, he also wants her to push him around when his hands are tied, rough treatment, primal play? idk if I can call it like that, biting, use of blindfolds, rope bondage, kneeling, degradation & name calling, dirty talk, face & cock slapping, bondage to a wooden post & to the bed, “forced” stripping, knife play :), nipple play, scent kink, drool, oral (f.receiving), finger sucking, face sitting, Yoongi and his long monster tongue fucking her senseless (i will go down with this trope), he is also trying to control his strength, panties as a gag, choking, breath play, she rides him, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms (m. & f.receiving), squirting for both ;), tears, the softest aftercare, sweet pillowtalk, they are just horny & kinky and so in love :(

Wordcount: 12.4k

a/n: y’all sometimes I am in a mood. This was such a mood. I just thought of Sanguis!Yoongi and came to the conclusion that he is the type of sub who is way too into being treated roughly & disrespectfully. And boi, can this man take a good consensual beating, he’d probably beg you to do it harder before he’s even as much as satisfied. I am- just read for yourselves, Imma head out now and scream into the void 🥴💛

“You want me to be what?” you squeak out, staring at Yoongi with widened eyes.

You and him had been relaxing by the lake for the last few hours. It was a really beautiful day. Sunny and with clear skies. Yoongi had wanted to stay inside in his dark, cold wing, but you dragged him outside, telling him that he’s an old grumps and that Vitamin D and some warmth will do him good. Then you forced him to help you row a boat and sit in the sunlight. He tried to pretend that he didn’t like it, but then proceeded to fall asleep with his head on your lap and his arms hugging your leg rather tightly. You found it beyond adorable because he purred quietly as he slumbered and each time you stopped petting his hair he just kind of huffed out air until you pet him again. Truly, it was beyond adorable. The sun however is sweltering, which is why you and him found refuge under some trees by now, sharing a picnic blanket and eating grapes.

“I want you to be my kidnapper, who regularly uses my body for her pleasure”, Yoongi says nonchalantly, keeping his eyes closed.

“I’m sorry, but what the fuck?”

Yoongi peels his left eye open.

“What?”

“I was telling you about our tomato plants and you drop that bomb of a confession on me.”

Yoongi closes his eyes again and shimmies into a more comfortable position.

“I’m just saying, no need to overreact that way”, he mumbles nonchalantly.

Just a second later and his lips curl into an amused smirk as he feels your hand strike his chest in a soft nudge.

“I’m not overreacting, you have terrible timing.”

“I think my timing was perfect.”

“No”, you laugh, “no, it was terrible”

Yoongi opens his eyes, turning his head so he could look at you better. Even now after he shocked you with such a confession, your eyes sparkle in love for him.

“I was thinking about it”, he says.

“Oh?” your eyebrows shoot up, “so that’s what you’re thinking about when I’m talking to you?”

“Not always, just today.”

“Wow”, you laugh, nudging his chin, “you’re so rude. Are my tomatoes not good enough?”

“No, they’re great”, he touches your collarbones, tracing them slowly, “I can’t wait to taste them.”

You giggle, drawing closer to him.

“I want to make tomato sauce with you once we have lots of ripe ones.”

“Yes, okay. I know a really good recipe”, Yoongi answers you, “we’ll make enough to get us through winter.”

“Yes”, you whisper in awe, “that would be so awesome.”

“Mhm-hm, then we’ll do it”, he says softly, letting his eyes race over your features.

There is some silence between you and him. Yoongi continues tracing your collarbones while you study his face.

“You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?” you whisper.

Yoongi nods his head.

“And what exactly are you imagining?”

Yoongi rolls onto his stomach, props himself up on his elbow and wraps his arm around your waist. He tilts his head to the side and leans in.

Then he whispers.

He whispers every single little detail of his darkest fantasy to you and it feels as if he was making love to you with just his sweet voice and sinful words.

“Holy fuck, Yoongi”, you croak once he pulls back, feeling weak-kneed even now that you are lying down.

“Think you can do that?” he asks with his pupils dilated and his breathing quickened.

You nod your head slowly.

“Yeah”, you croak.

“Fuck, princess”, he tugs you snug against his hips. They just kind of start moving against you all while his once calm hand begins groping at your side.

“You want to do it right now, don’t you?”

He nods his head, basically undressing you with his eyes.

You feel the same. You are pretty sure you soaked through your panties by now.

“Should we pack up and go back to the estate?”

“I’d be down”, he rasps.

Yoongi collides with the wall, writhing desperately in his fight for air. His throat rattles, his eyes are threatening to roll back.

“Don’t run away from me”, you bark, gripping him by his shoulders to press him against the rough brick wall. It forces his head to collide with it and for just a second he feels dizzy.

Your rough handling rubs the skin on his elbows open and Yoongi wiggles in his attempt to escape. Not that he can. His arms are tied, as are his wrists.

“Let me go”, he presses out through gritted teeth.

“No. You’re coming with me.”

You twist him around and dig your nails into the back of his neck to push.

Yoongi growls, fighting you fruitlessly. He is at your mercy now.

He was so close to escaping. He just had to run faster and he could have tasted freedom. But he didn’t and because of it, you caught him, now dragging him back to the imprisonment he just managed to escape from.

He isn’t supposed to be here. He never was and never will. He is your captive, whose only home has become the cold prisons and your bedroom.

You lead him past his open prison cell. He slipped past you as you opened it, thinking that this would finally give him his freedom back.

“Where are you taking me?” he gasps now that you aren’t taking him back to the cell.

“You know where.”

“No”, Yoongi chokes out, “not there.”

“You should have thought about the consequences before trying to escape.”

“I’m going to kill you”, he spits, “there will come a day when I will put my hands around your throat and squeeze the life out of you.”

You sneak a glance at him. You know that this is a roleplay. Yoongi told you that this is what he wants. To be your prisoner, who is captured against his will and whose body gets used for your pleasure. And that he will fight you for as long as possible. Also that you shouldn’t be offended by anything he will say as his words during the play are not how he truly thinks about you.

It still feels peculiar to have him plot your murder oh so loudly.

“I’d like to see you try. We’ll see where it’ll get you”, you spit, pushing him up the stairs, “if I remember correctly, last time you tried, I had you living in my little cage for a week. Maybe it’s time to bring it back.”

Yoongi sends you a poisonous look over his shoulder. You push him harder, making him stumble and fall.

“Oh”, you gasp, “sorry, are you okay my prince?” you falter, “no wait”, you pause and laugh, “I mean…get up, idiot.”

Yoongi can’t help but chuckle, sneaking a glance at you. His eyes carried his honest emotions in them.

“Don’t feel bad, handle me with utter disrespect.”

You nod your head vigorously.

“Yeah I’m trying. It won’t happen again…I think.”

Yoongi grins.

“Fuck princess, now I’m out of the headspace. You have to get me back there again.”

“Uhm…okay.”

Slap.

The sound echoes through the entire cellar and deep into the system of tunnels under the city. Your palm burns.

Yoongi looks baffled.

You just struck him across the face, doing so with your entire strength. He blinks, tries to look at you again, but fails. He barely manages to close his eyes before you blind him with the help of a cotton cloth. You close it behind his head, doing so roughly.

Yoongi has no idea where exactly you hid that cloth as he expected you to put it on his face when you are in your bedroom, but he won’t complain. It’s that added factor of being completely taken by surprise which makes the entire roleplay feel oh so real.

“Don’t look at me and keep walking”, you bark, slapping his head to the front before grabbing him by the back of his neck again to push him.

Yoongi stumbles. Not only up the stairs, but back into his headspace as well.

“I’ve got people looking for me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous”, you scoff, “I know you, you’re a loner. Why do you think I picked you?”

Yoongi stumbles. He expected another step but was met with the ground. It made him stumble and for you to pull him back up by his elbows.

“Fucking idiot, watch where you’re walking.”

Yoongi wiggles and huffs out air, regretting it as a second later he has you pushing him so harshly he almost falls down.

“People will still notice.”

“I doubt it”, you say, “now walk, I’m tired of pushing you.”

Yoongi hears doors close then your steps become muffled by carpet. The smell of plants tickles his nose. He knows exactly where you and him are right now. Your hallway. Not long and he will be captured in your bedroom while you do whatever you want with him.

This is his last chance.

Yoongi knows that once those golden doors close, he will be fucked. Quite literally.

“Argh”, he growls and twists around.

It surprises you and you end up stumbling to the side as Yoongi pushes you and then runs.

“What the fuck?” he hears you gasp behind him and it makes him smile in triumph.

He did it. He stunned you. After all those months of ever repeating days and long nights in your chambers, Yoongi finally stunned you.

“Where are you going? Come back!”

Yoongi runs as best as possible, using his senses to guide him. It is hard, his throat aches in his quick pants. If only his wrists weren’t tied so tightly. If only his arms weren’t so constrained. He could pull the blindfold down. But he can’t and so he is left stumbling in the dark while trying to find his orientation through nothing but scent.

Freedom smells sweet and it comes closer and closer. The door must be near.

Just a few more steps. Not long. Come now, run faster. Run.

He meets the hardness of the door harshly. His body gets knocked into it, the side of his head collides with it and his arms ache as they get crushed between the wood and his torso. It wasn’t his doing, but yours.

“Urgh”, he groans, feeling genuine surprise.

You have caught up with him, now pressing him against the door after having pushed him.

"Don’t run", you hiss, "You can’t run. Don’t you get it? You’re mine."

“I hate you”, he croaks.

“You think I care? Doesn’t matter if you hate me or not, your cock’s good enough for me”, you hiss and Yoongi swears that he has never been hard quicker than he managed to be right now.

With a harsh tug on his hair you pull him back down the hallway, “follow me.”

And Yoongi follows, stumbling while his head is dizzy in excitement.

You push him into your bedroom. Yoongi stumbles and falls to his knees, crawling away from you instantly.

He could locate you. Just by your scent or your sounds. But he forces his vampiric senses to stop. He wants to be clueless. He wants to crawl around the floor like a helpless animal until you catch him and do whatever you want with him.

Obviously the whatever had been thoroughly discussed and planned by the two of you beforehand, but Yoongi has realised by now that you like to add your own little spice to it. And that spice is making him burn up in arousal.

Just as right now when you catch him and then drag his feet back, forcing him to fall down. With a skilled grip, you manage to flip him over and a second later Yoongi feels your weight on his ribcage. He wiggles, kicking the ground fruitlessly. You are keeping him down, making breathing just that tiny bit harder.

Light greets his eyes. You tugged the blindfold down for now, pinning him down with madness in your eyes. Yoongi should be scared, nervous, frightened but all he feels is way too much awe for you. Also there might be a possibility that his cock throbbed at the view, but let’s not concentrate on that embarrassing thought right now.

You grip his chin with two fingers, squishing his cheeks together. Your lips curl into a dark smirk, the kind which twists Yoongi’s stomach in arousal.

“You’re so adorable”, you taunt, “did you really think you could escape me?” you coo sickeningly sweet, running your fingers through his hair.

Yoongi hisses, baring his teeth as he tries to move his head away from your touch. It doesn’t work, it just makes you twist his hair and then push his head down on the floor.

“I’ve had stronger boys than you in captivity. Your miniscule attempts mean nothing to me. They just amuse me.”

Yoongi huffs out air, but feels electric. You are so mean. Fuck, this gets him off so good.

“Wait”, you furrow your brows, “why are you making that face? What’s wrong? Am I too rough?” you ask, placing your hands on his cheeks to caress them softly. You sound like his princess. Sweet and full of love.

He shakes his head, faltering in his composure. He loves you so much. Oh my god, he loves you like crazy.

“You’re beautiful”, he whispers.

“You-”, you blink rapidly, flustering, “oh wow, uhm”, you laugh shyly, reaching out to caress his temples, “you’re stupid. Don’t say that when I’m trying to be mean to you.”

He laughs.

“You were the one who asked.”

“Yes, but you’ll really tell me when I go too far. Won’t you?”

“Yes, I will.”

“Okay”, you have to smile, “oh Yoongs, you look so handsome like this”, you say in a giggle, feeling up his face and leaning in.

You kiss him. Yoongi kisses you back even if he shouldn’t for the sake of the roleplay. But he can’t help himself. Your kiss is so good. You feel so amazing.

You bite his lower lip then. Hard and rough. It surprises Yoongi, who ends up moaning into the kiss while squirming under your weight. You pull back with a giggle, letting his lip slip out of your teeth when it physically can’t follow you anymore. Oh how it leaves it burning and aching for another bite.

You sit up, putting your entire weight on his chest while gazing at his face with lovedrunk eyes. And while you do, you trace his features.

“Princess hey”, he whispers, “you’re supposed to be mean to me.”

“Huh?” you blink rapidly to get out of your lovedrunk trance.

“You’re supposed to be mean”, he whispers, giving you a little grin.

“Urgh, I know”, you whine, “goddamn it, I always slip out of the role. Sorry, I just want to praise you all the time because you’re so handsome and sexy.”

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he makes sure.

“Yes, I’m having so much fun”, you nod your head, “and you?”

“Yeah, I have so much fun.”

You giggle, “good. I try to do a good job, because I want to make it the best experience ever.”

“You’re doing amazing, princess. When you threw me against the wall, that was hot as fuck.”

“Fuck, Yoongs”, you begin squirming, feeling up his face.

“So be mean. I’m serious, fucking hurt me princess.”

“Okay, I will. I just have to be serious”, you furrow your brows, “got to be angry and scary and beat your ass.”

Yoongi smiles fondly.

“What? Stop looking at me”, you hiss and tug the blindfold back on his eyes, “disgusting.”

He feels short of air, which is quite ironic because your weight leaves his ribcage, but he still does. You are so perfect in that role. He hadn’t expected you to switch back so easily, but you did. Of course you did, because you are perfect.

“Fuck”, he presses out.

He can barely take in air and you have already dragged him to his knees, using the thick ropes around his wrists to tug him over the ground.

Yoongi can barely follow you, feeling every rough stumble his knees have to pillow. And he loves it. He fucking loves it, fighting you just so you can drag him rougher and he struggles even more.

You stop and twist him. His back hits the hardness of your bedpost. He isn’t on the bed, but kneeling right in front of it.

That wasn’t in the plan, which turns Yoongi on even more.

The pressure on his arms subsides, he can move them again. For just a second because then you force them high above his head and restrain them against the bedpost.

Yoongi wants to moan but retorts to growling in anger instead. He has to stay in the role.

“Release me”, he spits, “you fucking bitch, release me.”

“Never. You’re mine now.”

Yoongi tries to fight the restraints, having come to realise that they won’t budge. No matter how hard he tries, he won’t find freedom through fighting.

He huffs out air, dropping his head in exhaustion. So here he is. On his knees with a blindfold over his eyes and his arms tied up above his head. He is your prisoner now. Despite all his attempts at fighting for his freedom, he is back to where he started. Maybe even in a far worse situation than before. At least in his cell he had freedom to move around, now he doesn’t. His fate is to take what you give him.

First his head gets yanked back into an upright position. Then he feels your strong fingers holding it tightly. It squishes his cheeks.

“I should keep you like this”, your voice is raspy, “just tied up and blindfolded and with the knowledge that you’re at my mercy.”

Yoongi swallows down a moan.

He releases it when a second later you slap his cheek. Not as hard as you did in the cellar, it was more of a harsh nudge.

He tenses up, giving you a deep growl. The amused chuckle you let out taunts him.

“You’re adorable”, you say and pat the crown of his head.

“You’re the worst.”

“Oh, I know. I’m very well aware of it”, you snicker devilishly and come closer to tickle his ear with your lips.

Yoongi holds his breath.

“What I’m going to do to you will redefine the word sadistic”, you whisper, watching in delight how he shudders and tilts his head back in bliss.

You place your tongue on his neck and lick it. Yoongi fights it because that is what he is supposed to do right now, but all he wants to do is moan your name and shiver. To have you lick his neck with such confidence after whispering such words to him turns him on so much.

You moan, taking his earlobe between your teeth. And while you do, you let your hands disappear in his pants, cupping his buttocks and using the grip to press his hips into yours. You make him grind against you, releasing his ear to lick the other side of his neck.

“Fuck”, he croaks, arching his back.

“See? I told you, you like it when I turn you on”, you taunt and let your left hand disappear between his buttocks. Your fingers press hard, eliciting an actual surprised gasp from Yoongi. They won’t slip in, but it doesn’t make a difference. Yoongi feels the pressure on his rim while his cock is grinding against your thigh and that is enough.

“You think I like it?” he tries to sound angry but fuck, he just wants to moan, “it’s biology. Nothing more.”

“I don’t think so. I think you’re secretly a whore for my touches.”

Yoongi wants to agree, but flashes his fangs instead.

Not that you see them, you are way too busy nibbling on his ear and driving him crazy in the process.

“That’s why you haven’t tried to escape yet. Be honest Yoongi, you love being my sex slave.”

He doesn’t know what turns him on more. You using his name with such mockery in your voice or you calling him your sex slave. Maybe it’s both. Yes, it’s definitely both.

“I’ll kill you”, he presses out, gasping a second later when you manage to breach him just enough that your fingertip is inside.

“Maybe, that’d be fun”, you laugh in mockery, “but first I’m going to reduce you to nothing.”

You force it deeper, just past your first knuckle. The breach burns from the friction, leaving him clenching around you.

“Ah, f-fuck”, he croaks, chasing your touch in a roll of his hips.

You slip your finger out again, smirking darkly when Yoongi seems to huff out air in desperation. Truly, it is a shame that you have to stop, but you have more important things to do. Such as getting him naked.

You yank his pants down, keeping them around his thighs just so he feels even more constrained. It is thrilling to watch just how hard his cock already is, springing free once the fabric is gone.

“Look at that. You’re so hard”, you taunt, hovering your hand over his cock just close enough that Yoongi can feel the warmth of it.

He is going to lose his mind. The blindfold is making him so sensitive to everything that touches his skin. And the fact that you are not touching his cock feels like torture.

The warmth disappears again. He feels your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt.

“You are seriously so amusing. You’re really telling me that you feel nothing when your cock’s that fucking hard already”, you say and laugh menacingly, ripping the first three buttons open.

They rip off easily, landing somewhere in the room. You touch his exposed chest, feeling it up with eager palms.

Yoongi chases it with an arch of his back before he realises that he has to fight you. He proceeds to wiggle then.

“This doesn’t mean anything”, he hisses.

“Tell yourself that if it makes you sleep easier at night”, you say, hooking your fingers in his shirt to get rid of the rest of the buttons as well. You tug hard. The buttons rip off and disappear somewhere on this well polished floor.

The ruined tunic falls open, revealing Yoongi’s torso to your hungry eyes. His stomach is stretching in the position you forced him in, making the slightest valley appear between his lowest ribs. You reach out and touch it, forcing a flinch to run through his body as he hadn’t expected it.

His skin feels like silk. Oh so soft that you want to spend hours worshipping it. But you can’t, not right now. Not when you have to make sure that your boytoy gets stripped.

You stand up and grab the knife you had laid out on the mattress. Yoongi is listening to you, moving his head into the direction of where your steps are headed.

“What are you doing?” he asks angrily.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you throw back, carrying mockery in your sweet voice.

Yoongi grinds his teeth, listening to your steps with bated breath. He can’t figure out what you are doing. Not being able to see is driving him insane.

You grip the hem of his sleeve, forcing his hand to ball into a fist in reaction.

There you are. Back with him. Yoongi is panting in an instant. Feeling charged in electricity.

You begin to cut down his sleeve, making sure that he feels every new inch of skin the knife exposes.

Yoongi wiggles and huffs out air. So that’s what you are doing. Stripping him like it was nothing. Fuck, and you are using the knife for it. Yoongi didn’t think you would, that it would be nothing but a prop for later and now here he is. Getting stripped naked with a knife.

“Fuck off”, he hisses, fighting the restraints.

You chuckle. Next the other sleeve. You cut slow and precise, basking in his attempts to fight the ropes.

“Leave me alone”, Yoongi growls, wiggling his wrist.

“Careful, I’ll cut you otherwise”, you warn with boredom in your voice.

“No, I’ll cut you. Just you wait, once I’m free I-”, Yoongi growls then gasps.

You cut his skin. Right on his biceps. It’s not a deep cut. More like a little scrape. But it burns nonetheless, sending electricity through his veins.

He grunts, lifting his head to send you a frown. You merely chuckle.

“Serves you right”, you say and cut the last inch of fabric.

The tunic falls from his body, pooling by his knees. So there he is. With his torso exposed and his hard cock out.

You squat down again, keeping the knife in your palm. You touch him, running your hands down his exposed arms.

“Now you look the part”, you say, “naked. Just for me.”

Yoongi growls, furrowing his brows as best as possible. He can’t show it how good you feel. Not again. He’s been faltering too much already.

“You’re such a slut, Yoongi. You’re seriously just getting naked like that. Are you doing this for everyone?” you taunt, massaging his hips, “I bet you do. Slut.”

Yoongi throbs. You see it. He feels it.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you like it when I call you out on being a slutty boy.”

His cock throbs again. He squirms.

“Keep dreaming”, he growls.

You smirk and grab his hips harshly. Then you lean in, connecting the flat of your tongue with his lower stomach. You lick right up his torso, taking the path in the middle. Not once you break away, licking him all the way from his happy trail up to where his collarbones begin.

Yoongi is wheezing, making the softest of sounds when you twist his hair and tilt his head to the side just so you can whisper into his ear.

“You have no idea how I feed off your taste, Yoongi”, you rasp, “that’s why you’re my favourite.”

A bite follows. Harsh, digging right into the sensitive flesh of his neck. The blindfold makes the bite feel a dozen times more intense. Oh Yoongi is squirming, gasping for air.

“Leave me alone”, he croaks.

Teeth break through. His veins bubble in pleasure. His neck burns unbearably.

“Ah, ___”, he moans, leaking precum from the sheer amount of ecstasy the pain makes him feel.

The bite stops. Yoongi feels so sad. He wants more.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” you are taunting him, “don’t forget your place, Yoongi.”

“Sorry, felt so good. Couldn’t help it”, he murmurs, burning up.

The giggle you let out, lets him know that you are melting at his words.

“Mhm Yoongi”, you sigh and dive in for another bite.

It pinches first, then borders unbearable.

Yoongi groans, fluttering his lashes even with the blindfold on.

“I’ll kill you, leave me be”, he warns for the sake of the roleplay.

The bite stops, leaving behind painful disappointment.

“No. I told you. You’re my favourite Yoongi and I intend to play with my favourites until they are so used up and ruined I…well…”, you chuckle darkly.

Your fingertips dance up his torso, stopping at his pecs to trace them. The tip of the knife follows, circling one of his nipples slowly.

“...nobody likes used toys, do they?” you rasp and Yoongi knows exactly what you are insinuating. The only reason why he is still trapped in your bed chambers is because you haven’t grown bored of him yet. Once that day comes, once he is used up to the point of being unable to give you more, you’ll throw him away.

“So you’ll just release me? After all that trouble, you’ll just release me?”

“Release you? Oh”, you laugh darkly, “oh how naive you truly are. No Yoongi, I won’t release you.”

You move closer, pressing your lips right against his ear. The cold blade glides against his throat, sitting there without ever cutting him. The sensation is still enough to send Yoongi’s breathing into a frenzy.

“I’ll slit your throat and make sure nobody will ever find your body, dear”, you rasp, putting just enough pressure on his throat that Yoongi feels the prickle of cold, sharp metal digging into his skin.

“Fuck”, he presses out, tilting his head back.

“Mhm-hm I know. So behave, as long as you’re my good little toy you have nothing to worry here.”

The blade slips from his throat, leaving him gasping for air. He wants more, but doesn’t let it show. Not long however and he feels the blade again. Now dancing down his sternum and leaving goosebumps behind.

Sharp pain follows. Right on his left pec. You cut him, just enough to draw blood for a second before it heals again. Yoongi feels it nonetheless, cursing under his breath.

“That was for trying to run from me”, you tell him, placing the next cut on his right pec. Under his nipple where his skin is so sensitive that Yoongi feels dizzy at the sensation.

“And that was for trying to run from me…again.”

The third cut goes right on his sternum. Yoongi is writhing under the blade, hitting his head on the pole because of how quickly he threw his head back. He hates that he heals. He hates that the burning pain only lasts a second before the nature of his existence fixes him again. He wants to feel it longer. It feels so good when you do it.

“And that was just because I wanted to”, you say and pull back. You touch the healed spots, wiping away the small remainders of blood.

“Fascinating”, you speak, “to think I have someone as fascinating as you in my collection. It’s a shame you’ll be used up one day.”

He huffs out air and bares his teeth. Each time you mention just how replaceable he is, he feels fire run through his veins. You are so fucking mean, so cruel, so awful. It’s driving him insane, makes him literally ache for your touch.

The knife runs down his stomach. Yoongi flinches into the touch, gasps through his mouth. You find it so amusing just how affected he looks. You are very sure that he is not aware that his cheeks are rosy and that his lips are parted in bliss. He may be making sounds of faux disapproval, but his body speaks for itself. You are doing wonders to him right now, playing him as if it was the easiest thing to do.

You were nervous about cutting him at first, you can’t lie. Yoongi had to assure you multiple times that he wanted it and that he wouldn’t hurt. And even then you felt breathless in nervousness as you glided the blade over his skin for that first fateful cut. That nervousness ceased existing when you could watch how his cock began leaking his pleasure the moment that blade breached his skin.

Now you are greedy for more. You set the blade against his lower stomach, drawing the finest of lines. He tugs on the ropes, presses out a curse. The cut heals instantly.

“Truly, it’s so fascinating”, you speak, hating your voice for trembling the way it does. You are so turned on. He is so hot like this.

“No, it’s not”, he spits, sounding out of breath, “you’re nothing but cruel.”

“Yoongi”, you put disappointment into your voice, watching his cock leak in reaction, “I told you. I’ll redefine the word sadistic. Obviously I’m cruel. You really think I lied to you? Of course not. I never lie.”

You give him one long cut across his stomach, basking in delight as he arches into you in a desperate thrust.

“Look at you. Look at how you’re loving it”, you say tauntingly, “oh Yoongi, you are truly such a slut.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t like what you’re doing.”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why you’re fucking the air like a desperate little whore.”

You place your hand under his cock, using it to support his heavy length as you place the knife right against his skin.

He sucks in air, holds it. You run the blade along his cock, starting at the base until you reach the tip. It was nothing more than a little scrape, but Yoongi ruins your palm with his arousal nonetheless. Oh so creamy, you wonder if he actually just climaxed from nothing but a knife against his cock.

You pick up his wetness and spread it over his cock in slow strokes and skilled rolls of your wrist.

“Princess…” he moans, dropping his head as his strength forsakes him.

“Princess?”

You can watch how Yoongi becomes aware of what he just said. His head snaps up again, he tugs at the ropes with a growl.

It makes you chuckle and twist your hand right around his leaking cockhead. He is so adorable when he is so dumb in pleasure that he forgets all about the roleplay.

“You’re sweet. So dumb. I like you like this Yoongi. Sweet and dumb and so into what I’m doing to you”, you coo, playing with his nipple as you jerk him off.

“I’m not into it”, he growls as he feels his nipples harden under your touch.

“Of course not”, you say sarcastically, “just as much as your cock isn’t already creamed and your nipples aren’t so, so hard.”

You lean down and take one of the swollen buds between your teeth. Yoongi chases you with an arch of his back, letting out a shuddering breath at the sharp pressure your teeth cause his nipple to feel.

You release him slowly, dragging your teeth over him until he slips free. You suck hickeys on his chest on your way to his other nipple, making each mark sting. By the time you have reached his other side, you have managed to get him so charged in sensitivity that the first second of your bite is making him tremble in a rapidly approaching high.

He tries and fails not to let it show, scratching his nails down the wooden post while his cock grows heavy in your hand. His hips squirm, his throat rattles in a gasp.

“Oh?” you release his nipple, sneaking a glance up at his blissful face, “what’s wrong? Don’t tell me that you’re close.”

You speed up your hand, forcing his lips to part in an inaudible gasp. He purrs deeply, trying to drag himself up the post but failing.

“Oh, you are. How sweet…”

Any second now. You know his body well enough, that you could probably get the moment right if you started to count. Five, four, three, two and…

You slow down, abandoning his tip to squeeze around his base instead.

“Fuck”, he curses, bucking his hips against nothing, “fucking hell.”

“And here you are still telling yourself that you aren’t into it. What about it now, Yoongi? Mhm? Now you wanna whine about getting edged, mhm? Decide what you want.”

He grinds his teeth, shows them to you with a snarl.

“Doesn’t matter, you are not going to cum for a long time tonight”, you say and abandon his cock entirely to run your hands up his torso instead.

You stand up, dancing your hands along his arm until you reach his bound wrists. You start to undo his knot, making sure that your middle would be oh so close to his face.

Yoongi is dizzy. He can smell you so well all of a sudden. You are fumbling with his ropes and yet all he can concentrate on is the almost unbearably addicting scent of your cunt. It’s so sweet. Fuck, he is salivating like a stupid dog. It’s dripping down his chin, he knows that it is because he feels it cover his chest.

Where are you? Why is it so strong?

Yoongi moves his head, accidentally brushing his nose over your clothed pussy.

He growls, squirming in an instant. The movement is so harsh that he almost rips through the ropes, hadn’t you dug your nails into his palms.

“Behave”, you warn, staring down at him with blown-out pupils.

Look at him. Look at how he is chasing your pussy. Look at how his cheeks are covered in veins and his lips are dripping his drool, barely hiding his long fangs.

You step closer, forcing his nose to brush against you again.

He inhales deeply, exhaling in a rattling growl and his tongue slipping past his lips in a desperate curl.

But you don’t let him get close. Not yet at least. He has to work harder for it.

Yoongi snatches for you as strings of his drool drip from his tongue.

“Disgusting”, you say, tugging his head back.

Yoongi groans, looking genuinely surprised as his jaw goes slack and his nose scrunches up.

“Look at you. You’re drooling like a little baby. Where’s your manners? You’ll ruin my floors”, you say and slap his cheek.

Yoongi opens and closes his lips, gulping violently.

“I’m not in the mood to clean your stupid drool, so keep that tongue inside until I tell you otherwise.”

Yoongi sticks his tongue out, earning himself a harsh slap across his cheek.

“Keep that tongue inside”, you spit, “fuck, you’re so disgusting”, you twist his hair and then tug harshly, “follow me.”

Yoongi follows with struggle. The pants around his legs are making walking difficult and you are tugging his hair so harshly that he is way too dizzy.

He knows that you are dragging him on top of your bed however. Seconds later, his back hits the mattress so harshly the air gets knocked out of him.

“Not that shit again”, he murmurs, trying so so hard to make himself sound unexcited. It’s very hard when he is literally aching in excitement. Now his favourite part will start.

You’ll sit on his face while he pretends that he doesn’t want it. Fuck. He’s been thinking about it ever since you started this roleplay. He wants it so bad.

So bad in fact, that he forgets all about fighting you when you force his arms above his head to restrain them against the headrest. When he does remember, it is already too late and you have him exactly where you want him to be.

You place your hands on his wrist, running them down his arms until you reach his throat. You press your thumbs right under his Adams apple, applying enough pressure to force a series of coughs and gags out of Yoongi.

"Sweet", you say, sitting down on his stomach, "you sound so funny when you choke."

You release his throat, listening to his coughing. He shakes your body as he does, while you feel up his chest and arms.

“Calm down, crybaby. I didn’t even choke you that hard”, you say, slapping his face.

“Fuck you”, he croaks.

“Yep, that’s what you’ll do. With your tongue, so open up.”

Yoongi presses his lips together.

Slap. Harsh and right on his cheek.

“Open up.”

He shakes his head.

A harsh grip on his chin forces your nails to scratch his skin. You press down hard, forcing his jaw apart slowly.

“Open. Up.”

His lips part. The consequences are instant. Yoongi gets two of your fingers poking into his mouth. He tenses his jaw, denying you access.

“Fuck Yoongi, don’t make it so hard on yourself.”

He growls, grinding his teeth. Said teeth you begin prying apart like a dog owner would its dog’s to feed it medicine. Except that you aren’t feeding him medicine, you are feeding him two of your fingers, sticking them down his throat all the way the moment his jaw goes slack for a second.

Yoongi gurgles, trying to shake his head, but he ends up with your hand around his throat instead, pinning him down.

“Fucking idiot. You really think acting like a brat will get you anywhere?” you spit, fucking his mouth in harsh rolls of your wrist.

“Hngng”, Yoongi gurgles, wiggling under you. You are so far down his throat. Fuck, he wasn’t ready for it.

“Stop whining, it won’t change anything.”

His mouth is seriously made for it. His tongue is soft and wet. His throat is oh so tight.

"You’ll have to eat me out if you want to or not, Yoongi. No need to put up a fight, that’ll only force me to punish you", you spit, thrusting into him harshly.

Yoongi gags and groans, drooling all around your fingers.

“Of course. I can’t wait for it either”, you pretend to understand him, pressing down on his tongue and forcing another gag out of him.

A tear escapes his eyes, rolling down his cheek just for you to see.

“Look at that. That’s hilarious. You’re crying”, you taunt and with just a curl of your fingers you force him to gag and cry again.

Yoongi whimpers, panting as best as possible. You know that the squirming he is doing is honest and that you are dancing on the limit with him.

Yoongi isn’t used to so much pressure in his throat. Not him, because he doesn’t take cock down his throat like that. At least not for so long, so constant, so harshly. He is getting pushed to his limits and you are living for it, pushing him even more with madness in your gaze.

You twist your wrist, squeeze his throat, listen to him gag out a desperate mewl. So tight, oh his tongue is pressing against your fingers in a desperate attempt to get rid of them. His cheeks are wet, tears cover them, soaking the edge of the blindfold as well.

“Fuck Yoongi, I’d make wine from your tears, if only I could”, you rasp, slipping your fingers free. Strings of his saliva break, covering his puffy lips.

He gulps, inhaling in snapping breaths whilst tugging at the ropes.

“You are adorable”, you taunt and wipe his tears away, “crybaby tears. My favourite”, you say, licking them off your fingers, “I can really taste the patheticness in them. Great flavour.”

“You’re a monster”, he croaks, still catching his breath. His throat is pulsating from the finger fuck. He can’t remember the last time he had to gag so much. Fuck, once he is free he’ll carry you on fucking hands. You are so good at treating him like shit.

“Says the person turning into a bloodsucker at night”, you say, taking off your panties, “go look at your own reflection first”, you add, climbing on top of him.

A sweet scent tickles his nose again. His entire body tenses up. You are above him. He knows that you are. And this time around you aren’t wearing any panties. He can recognize that scent anytime.

“Tongue out”, you order, twisting his hair.

Yoongi obeys because the scent of your pussy makes him complacent. If he wants to or not. You tell him to do something and he does it. When his reward is pussy, Yoongi would fly to the moon and back if that’s what you ask of him.

“Cute”, you taunt and then sit down on him, smothering him in your sex.

The sound Yoongi makes is demonic. For just a second you think that he might rip through his restraints, but he controls himself, using the energy to completely devour your cunt instead.

This is Yoongi. The real Yoongi. There is not an ounce of roleplay involved right now. Because Yoongi got pussy and when Yoongi gets pussy his brain shuts off and he turns attentive for nothing except your cunt and her sweetness.

And right now he is feasting on you with so much lewd sloppiness that it is covering his entire face.

“Fucking hell”, you press out, rocking your hips back and forth. It grinds your clit over his tongue. Yoongi sucks on it each time he can reach her the best. The movements of your hips forces you to slip out of his grasp after a second.

Yoongi grows impatient by it and soon you have him chasing you with jerks of his head and his teeth. He tugs at the ropes as well, tensing his muscles.

“Hey”, you warn, lifting your hips, “hide those disgusting fangs of yours, will you?”

Yoongi groans, trying to hide them as best as possible.

“Better”, you say, “seriously, I’m not your free blood bank, vampire.”

“As if I want to drink your poisoned blood, snake”, he throws back, “I’d rather starve than drink you-”

You don’t let him finish, muffling him with your pussy.

“Shut your ugly mouth and use it for something productive instead”, you spit.

Yoongi growls, tugging at the ropes.

“And keep those arms still”, you warn and slap them harshly.

He curses, wiggling his inhumanely long tongue into you. He curls it, hitting your favourite spot so well you actually gasp.

“Shit, Yoongi”, you laugh breathily, “mhhm baby….good.”

Yoongi opens his eyes to look at you, only to realise that he can’t because he is blindfolded. Your pussy tastes a hundred times better then and Yoongi uses his tongue to fuck your tight hole while fuelling his own hunger for you.

“Fuck”, you moan and twist his hair, “I always forget you can do that.”

You press his head into the pillow and then begin bouncing on his tongue. Hot, thick, long and dripping wet in his drool it is fucking you senseless.

“That’s it, that’s why you’re my favourite”, you pant, throwing your head back, “right there, you useless fuck.”

Yoongi feels as if he is running on ecstasy. On cocaine and heroin. He is charged, feels invincible and so fucking high. You are fucking yourself on his tongue. This is his religion.

Yoongi moans into you and curls his tongue deeper. He couldn’t describe what he actually feels right now. There are no words invented which could properly describe the amount of pleasure he is feeling. He just knows that your taste is like a drug to him and that having your wet pussy wrapped around his long tongue like that is bringing him close to an overdose. There is so much taste, oh so much of you. You are literally engulfing him and Yoongi is writhing himself deeper and deeper into you.

“Fuck”, you squeal, lifting your hips, “deep. What the hell?”

Yoongi gurgles, trying to make up for the loss of depth by lifting his head. His tongue fills you up again, making you feel so full and stuffed that you gasp and flinch away.

“Yoongi, control yourself”, you warn, “you won’t get pussy if you’re acting like a greedy animal.”

Your hips lift off, his tongue slips free. It’s so long. Covered in your creamy pleasure and curling against nothing. Fuck. His fangs are on full display as well.

“Look at you. No wonder you’re so greedy”, you grab his chin, “you’re looking more animal than human by now. I told you to hide those fangs, didn’t I?”

“Give me cunt", he demands in a demonic voice, curling his long tongue.

“Oh? Now you wanna beg for it?”

“Just give me cunt, fuck. Stop making it so hard”, he barks with desperation in his raspy voice.

“You’re so amusing. Where’s all that hatred for me gone? Admit it Yoongi, you love me.”

He bares his fangs angrily, snapping for your pussy. With a harsh push to his head he is back under your control, damned to take whatever you allow him to have.

“You love me because I can give you pussy whenever”, you say, plopping back down on his face. And right now you allow him to have your unfiltered taste.

It takes Yoongi not even a second to be back inside of you, stuffing you with his demonic tongue and moaning in ecstasy while behind that blindfold his eyes roll back.

“See? You love me”, your voice is trembling in pleasure, “so show me. Fucking w-worship me.”

Yoongi moans for you. Oh he will worship you. He is so ready. So fucking ready. All he exists for is to worship you. He drills his tongue deeper, showing you just how eager he is to give you the glory you deserve.

“So deep, you’re fucking crazy”, you croak, fucking yourself on him in smooth rolls of your hips and touching your clit as you do. You are going to cum around his tongue. You decided that this will be your goal and now you are hellbound on achieving it.

Yoongi takes it gladly, letting your sweet nectar run down his tongue and coat his throat. Breathing is hard, you are smothering him each time you let yourself drop on his face, but he doesn’t care. He cares for nothing else except your cunt. She is the only thing important.

“So good”, you keen, twisting his hair and sending shivers down his spine, “fucking me so good…”

Yoongi holds back on most nights, so you realised. It’s not often that you actually see the potential of his tongue. You feel it, because Yoongi would never ever do a bad job when he is between your legs, but his true size he likes to hide for whatever silly reason. You truly can’t find an explanation good enough to excuse it, because holy fuck sitting on his tongue feels sacrilegious.

Long. Oh so long.

Thick. Giving your hole such a nice stretch.

Dripping in his drool. Making the best mess between your legs.

It doesn’t take long for you to get oh so close. Not when he feels like that.

“You’re making me cum”, you choke out, sending a jolt through his limps. He begins tugging on the ropes, kicking the sheets as best as possible.

He gurgles, wiggles himself deeper as he grows inside of you. He wants it. That’s all he needs. Your fucking cum. Your clenching walls around his tongue. Your cunt showering him in your high.

Yoongi is doing everything in his power to keep the ropes intact. He wants to rip them and grip your hips to keep you down. He could do so easily, but he doesn’t allow his muscles to work. Not when he is still supposed to be your prisoner.

“Yes Yoongi, fuck”, you groan, clenching down on him, “you’re not as useless…as I..thought…fuck ah…”

Shit, you sound so close. Yoongi trembles. He needs to make you cum. And not rip through those weak ropes.

He thinks those two thoughts as he tongue fucks you. Make her cum. Don’t rip the ropes. Make her cum. Don’t ruin the ropes. Make her fucking cum. Please don’t rip the ropes. Please cum. Please. Fucking please.

“Yes! Fuck! Yoongi!” you moan loudly, losing yourself on top of his face while his tongue is getting creamed.

Yoongi fucks the air, crying out with you. Holy fuck you are convulsing like crazy. Fuck his tongue so sensitive. Shit, he is going to cum.

Not that he can. Because before the sweet fire of his high can wash over him, you slip off his tongue, abandoning him in his agony.

You watch with a dizzy mind as he is searching for you. He looks so ruined, so desperate. Fangs out, creamed tongue way too long and desperate and cheeks covered in his drool and your cum.

“Well damn Yoongi”, you say, plopping down on his stomach, “you were actually useful.”

“More”, he begs, “please more.”

He makes you laugh, “Yoongi dear, aren’t you forgetting something?”

He mewls, rolling his head to the side, “just wanna have pussy”, he keens, meaning every syllable of it.

“I know. You’re insatiable”, you give his cheek a soft slap, “pathetic. Show some self-control will you?”

“Fuck”, he presses out and forces his tongue back into his mouth.

“Better. Now.”

You shimmy down his body, sitting down on his constrained thighs. You place your hands on his hips, sending life through his cock. He turns his head, holding his breath in anticipation. Oh how curious he looks.

“Look at you”, you say, squeezing his hips, “you are so messy. Did eating my pussy get you close again?”

“No”, he lies and does a terrible job at it.

“Of course not. You hate me after all, don’t you?”

“Yeah, hate you so much.”

“Mhm, of course”, you have to snicker, “oh Yoongi, you’re not only useful but funny too. You truly are my favourite.”

You wrap your fingers around his cock and lift your hips, hovering your pussy over his cock instead. You lower yourself, grinding your sensitive clit against his frenulum.

“Feel it? You’ve got me dripping”, you tease him, sending a shudder through his limbs.

You can watch how he intertwines his own fingers and squeezes his hands to the point where his knuckles become even paler than they already are.

Up and down you grind your cunt, covering him in your cream. His veins are pulsating under you, his cock is so hard.

“All that cream, it’s getting wasted on your cock. Imagine Yoongi dear. Imagine you could have all of that wetness on your tongue right now”, you coo, watching in delight how he snarls and reveals his dripping fangs.

“So much of me wasted, Yoongi. Isn’t that sad?”

“I’ll rip you to fucking pieces”, he hisses.

“And how are you planning on doing that? Mhm? You’re all tied up.”

“Argh”, he growls, ripping at the ropes so harshly that the headboard croaks.

“Hey”, you warn, striking your punishing hand right across his cock.

Yoongi gasps and tenses his thighs.

“Behave. Ruin even an inch of my furniture and I’ll slit your throat right here and now.”

“Just slit it”, he hisses, tugging on the ropes a second time, “at least I’d be released of your endless fucking chattering.”

“Wow”, you laugh, “the toy is feisty. What’s wrong Yoongi? Are you really that upset about all that wasted sweetness?”

He huffs out air, doing so honestly.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, you coo, “don’t worry, dear. I’ll make it up to you.”

You sit down on his cock, welcoming him in your warmth inch by inch. Yoongi tries not to, but ends up arching his back while his chest heaves up and down in quick pants. He makes no sounds because that would reveal just how good he actually feels right now.

“Mhm Yoongi”, you sigh, bottoming out. You stick your ass out and begin rolling your hips back and forth, “you fill me out so fucking well.”

“You can’t fuck for shit.”

“Excuse me?” you gasp, widening your eyes.

“You think you’re so good, when a dead fish could fuck better than you.”

“Rude?” you scoff, placing your hands on his chest for support, “and very untrue. Come on Yoongi, if you want to insult me, at least don’t lie”, you say, starting your ruthless fucking with a clench of your walls.

Yoongi is twisting the ropes, dimpling the pillow from throwing his head back. He groans quietly and for as long as there is air in his lungs. His deep voice vibrates against your fingertips, filling them with an itch to feel his throat under them. Your left hand gives in, falling around his throat.

You can feel how he sucks in air and then groans again. It tickles your fingers, fills your veins with electricity.

“What about how I fuck now? Mhm? Still wanna spit ugly lies?” you challenge, feeling lightheaded from just how good it feels to bounce on his cock. Veiny and oh so hard, curving just right to grind against your favourite spot and creamed oh so well that the lewdest of sounds fill the air.

“S-still feels like shit”, he presses out.

“It does? Does it really? Mhm?” you challenge, squeezing down on his veins. You stop when only his tip is inside, circling your hips.

Yoongi gasps under your fingers, tensing his arms as he is trying not to rip through the ropes.

“Still bad”, he gets out, “fuck, it’s the worst.”

“No. You are the worst. What the fuck?” you spit, dropping down on him in sync with a slap across his face.

It was a hard slap, forcing his head to roll to the side. His skin is red for just a second, his voice trembles in a groan.

Then he laughs. He laughs with so much mockery in his voice you feel genuine annoyance for a second. He fixes the position of his head.

“Is that all you’ve got? Come on ___, your pussy game is weak.”

“Okay, you know what? Shut it”, you hiss and without any sort of gentleness you force your panties into his mouth.

Yoongi groans, tugging at the ropes while trying to flee from you. Not that he can because you pin him down with your hand on his forehead.

“I didn’t want to do this, but you give me no other choice. You’re such a stupid brat, fuck”, you hiss, stuffing all of the fabric into him.

You work thoroughly. Only when all of the fabric is stuffed into his mouth, you feel satisfied. You press your hand over his mouth, giving him a harsh push.

“Keep it in there”, you order.

Yoongi huffs out air and growls, furrowing his brows. He says something, but it comes out as nothing more than gurgles and muffled sounds.

“Perfect”, you smile, “now you’re quiet.”

You let your hands slip back to his chest and pay attention to your hips instead. Sitting on Yoongi’s cock while gagging him with your panties is fun, but you want to fuck yourself stupid. And that can only happen when you move your hips as if their only purpose was to fuck.

Yoongi tenses his neck, bites down on your panties and groans deeply. The headboard croaks again, his arms are so fucking tense that they are shaking. You know that he is in heaven right now. You know how to fuck. Oh, you know. You’re sitting on cock way too many nights to not be good at it. You’re a goddamn master in it.

“Shit Yoongi. You’re so much better when you’re quiet”, you taunt, forcing him to tense his jaw and growl at you, “growl all you want, it’s the truth.”

You drop down on him and for just a second Yoongi’s angry growl becomes a desperate squeak and a disbelieved laugh. Not for long because after that laugh you can listen to him breathe in and then mumble curses into the fabric.

“I can’t hear you, Yoongi. Stupid idiot your attempts to insult me are useless”, you tell him, “just like the rest of you.”

And unlike your words may make one assume, he is not useless. You fuck yourself on his throbbing cock with so much vigour that only an idiot would see your words as the truth.

“So fucking useless”, you lull, throwing your head back. You begin playing with his hard nipples, sending a jolt through his limbs. His cock grows inside you, stretching you out so good you feel your toes curl. The bounces up and down feel a hundred times better because of it.

Another sound from him. Angry, yet filled with so much desperation.

“Do you like that? Mhm?” you ask, rolling your thumbs into his nipples, “do you like how I play with your cute, little nipples?”

Yoongi mewls. He mewls because you just called him cute and for a second he felt high. Your touch becomes unbearable in how good it feels. His skin is so sensitive that he can feel how the air touches him. His cock is burning up so much that not even your wetness can still the fire. His fingers hurt so much. He is breaking them slowly because if he didn’t, he would break the fucking bed instead. And to top it all of, your taste is soaked into your panties and now he is being gagged with it and it is sitting on his tongue in a constant, torturing presence.

He wants to cum.

That’s the main problem right now.

He wants to fucking explode. And it’s so hard to hold back when every second with you feels like paradise.

“Of course you like it. Look at how you’re squirming”, you challenge, twisting and pinching his swollen, oh so sensitive nipples.

Yoongi soaks your panties with his drool, rolling his eyes back behind the blindfold. He is glad that it is hiding him, because fuck, he is acting like such a slut right now. You would tease him so much if you knew about how you’re getting him to the point of having to roll his eyes back.

You squeeze your pussy around him, “you’re so hard Yoongi. So big too. Don’t tell me your tongue isn’t the only thing being able to grow”, you mock him with a laugh and a harsh squeeze of your walls. You pinch his nipples and Yoongi can’t take it anymore.

He spits your panties out. They fall on his neck messily.

“Slow”, he croaks.

“Why should I?”

Yoongi writhes and groans deeply, letting his jaw go slack. He squeezes his aching hands, groans again. His nipples are so fucking swollen under your fingertips, his cock is throbbing and twitching.

“Oh, now I know. You’re gonna cum aren’t you?”

He doesn’t nod his head, but his body is trembling so much that this is all the answer you need.

“That’s so adorable. The brat is talking about how I fuck worse than a dead fish and now he wants to cum”, you growl, tensing your pussy just to make it oh so hard for him.

“Ah”, he lets out, throwing his head back, “ah-hah. Ah!”

Yoongi doesn’t mind that he is being loud. He is aware that this goes against his role, but it feels too nice not to make sounds.

“There we go, moan for me. That’s it, show me how good I fuck”, you encourage him with your blown-out pupils glued to his face. He looks so far gone in his heaven.

Yoongi tenses up, voice pitching in his throat. Impressive really, just how high his voice can get if only you play him right.

You twist his plumb nipples and clench down on him, watching in delight as this brings him over the edge. He moans deeply, scrunching his entire face up while his body spasms underneath you.

“O-oh god”, he croaks out, thrusting his hips into you with jerks of his cock shooting his hot cum into you.

“Whore. You’re such a whore”, you talk him through his orgasm, playing with his nipples to the point of Yoongi having to arch his back because for just a second it feels as if he was climaxing under your touch.

You don’t stop afterwards. You keep him locked deep inside, bouncing on him with all the strength your muscles allow you to have.

“Anghn”, he presses out, fighting you off as best as possible.

Not that he can. Your legs have an iron grip around his hips and your fingers are pinning down his chest.

“Argh!” he growls, putting more effort into his fight, “fucking. Bitch.”

“Stop wiggling”, you order, wrapping your hands around his throat. Tight and hard.

Yoongi gurgles out a drugged out moan, ripping his mouth open. His body grows slack and complacent under you, his cock is pulsating inside of you as it weeps in overstimulation.

Blindfolded. Tied up. Stripped. Overstimulated. Choked. Fucked.

Yoongi thinks he has never felt better than he does right now. There is no better situation he could find himself in than this. This is your peak. The final form of your relationship. Yoongi is your tortured sex slave and you are his perfect goddess. It won’t get any better than this.

“Take it”, you order, torturing his cock with harsh bounces up and down.

The new leverage his throat gives you, makes it possible. He moans loudly under your strong grip, stretching his arms further up the mattress.

Yeah, he is doing a terrible job at pretending that he was your unwilling prisoner, but quite frankly, you couldn’t care less. Yoongi is doing a fantastic job at being your very obvious willing prisoner and you are not one to call him out on it.

Quite frankly, you long stopped pretending as well. The choke you give him and that ruthless fuck? Things you would do to him regardless of the roleplay. This right here is two people fucking like animals for the sole reason of never getting enough of each other. No roleplay, just unbearable attraction.

You must say once again that this blindfold fits him like nothing else. Especially when small wet spots are beginning to form where his eyes are.

“You’re crying? Aww crybaby, what’s wrong? Can’t take the fuck?”

Yoongi makes a sound. You can barely decipher it from how tightly you are choking him.

“Talk to me”, you bark, releasing his neck.

Yoongi begins writhing, hitting his head on the mattress repeatedly. He just manages to give you a view of his tongue curling back and then he is climaxing for a second time. Deep inside of you, oh so deep that it feels as if he is making sure that you would never stop dripping his seed.

The orgasm is angry, consuming Yoongi to the point where he forgets his strength and almost throws you off with just how aggressively he begins rutting up into you.

“Oh shit”, you startle, finding support on his chest, “Yoongi fuck, careful.”

Yoongi growls and rips through the ropes like they are nothing.

“Yoongi”, you gasp, gawking at them. Those were really strong ropes…

He growls angrily and grips your hips, holding your body safely while he is drilling his throbbing cock into you. Now you understand. He is holding you, making sure that you wouldn’t be thrown off by his gluttonous thrusts. His thumb finds your clit instantly, pressing down hard and rubbing quick circles. It sends shudders through you and makes your body feel on flames.

“Yes”, you moan and tilt your head back as you let the sensation wash over you, “yes, fuck yes.”

“So good, so fucking good. My princess, my fucking goddess”, he is chanting, fucking his cock into you with all he has to offer. Skin slaps against skin, your head is dizzy, your pussy feels tortured in the best way.

“Yoongi, ah Yoongi, oh god Yoongi don’t stop”, you have resorted to motivating him with loud moans of his name, covering his chest in scratch marks and his throat in bruises.

“Can’t fucking stop, princess. Don’t wanna”, he promises you as he grinds his thumb into your clit.

“Yoongi”, you tense up, “you’re making me cum”, you keen, falling to your elbows.

“Do it. Cum. Holy fuck, please cum”, he pants, putting even more pressure on your clit. His fingers are holding your hips, bruising your flesh.

You climax with a gasp of his name and your teeth digging into his shoulder. Holy fuck, you are burning up, convulsing on top of him.

“Urgh fuck!” he yelps, throwing his head back, “you fucking- ah!”

You are very sure that Yoongi is currently filling you up with his wet orgasm. It would fit the situation perfectly. Overstimulated to the point of no return and high on pain to the point of no vision. You know him and he’s a squirter if only you play his body right. The only logical outcome of such a night was for his body to lose control in the wettest ways possible.

“Again”, he growls, “one more”, Yoongi presses down on your clit harder and grinds it right against your favourite spot. Your knees buckle, your thighs feel oh so weak. It’s so much stimulation. Too much and too soon after your high. Your entire body convulses, your stomach feels like bursting, your pussy is on fire.

“Yoongi now”, you keen, falling into your forced high so aggressively, you fear that you might never find your way back, "oh god, Yoongi. Ah."

Deep and hard. You squeeze out all that precious cream he pumped into you. You’re a squirter after all and what better way to show off your skills than by ruining your bed and his body with your high.

“Oh god, Yoongi. Good. Yoongi. Ah, Yoongi.”

“Yes princess, yes. Holy fuck, yes. Feels so good, so tight. Fuck princess, yes”, he encourages you, riding on your sweet, sweet high.

“Urgh god”, you fall off of him the moment you stop shaking. Your orgasms spill everywhere, but you need to take a shower either way, so who cares.

Your eyes are watering, your ears are ringing, your throat is dry.

“Fucking hell”, you press out and laugh, “that was incredible.”

Yoongi chuckles, reaching for you. He touches your side then dances his hand to your lower stomach. He rests it there, warm and safe.

“I can feel your heartbeat in your tummy”, he says, caressing your skin.

“I can tell you that I am currently feeling it in my pussy as well.”

Yoongi snorts ungracefully and breaks into shoulder-shaking laughter.

“Don’t laugh, I’m serious”, you say in cackles.

“I know, I’m sorry. I just feel so happy”, he says between his giggles, “can’t stop laughing”, he confesses and giggles again, hiding his face behind his arm.

You smile, propping yourself up on your elbows. You tug his arm away then take off the blindfold. He opens his eyes, spilling tears from his crinkled up corners. His giggles become quieter, now shaking his shoulders more than they make sound. You wipe his tears and press a kiss to his smiling lips.

Yoongi kisses you back instantly, sighing your name in a saccharine voice.

“Fuck Yoongi”, you say, giggling as you drop your head on his chest, “I’m so going to be sore tomorrow", you groan, massaging your tense thigh muscles, “every inch of my body hurts.”

You crane your neck.

He is gazing down at you with a content grin.

“I’m spent too. You ruined me completely”, he says.

“Yeah”, you say, dropping back into the sheets. You snuggle up against him, tracing the slope of his nose, “did you squirt again?”

“Mhm, felt so good.”

“I did too”, you giggle, “my bed’s ruined now.”

“Mhm. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s so sexy when you squirt.”

“Yeah”, he agrees and sighs, “fuck, so dead.”

You giggle, “same, I’m gonna sleep like a stone today.”

“Mhm”, Yoongi somehow manages to flip to his side.

Like this your head rests on his arm and he can cup your face. His hand is heavy on your cheek now that he uses zero muscle to hold it. You don’t mind that it is, because it makes you feel so safe.

Yoongi peels his eyes open in a flutter. He smiles.

“You can be so mean”, he says with fond eyes.

“Right? I was so shocked by myself. I hope I wasn’t too mean.”

“No, you were perfect. Thank you”, he says and inches closer to kiss your forehead, “you just made me the happiest man ever.”

You giggle, “gosh, Yoongs. I’m happy too”, you say.

Yoongi nuzzles and purrs.

“You were really mean too”, you nudge his chest, “I fuck worse than a dead fish? Seriously?”

He chuckles, “sorry, I was into it.”

“You’re such a brat, like damn Yoongi.”

“I know”, he says and chuckles. He kisses your hair, “you’re the best. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know, you didn’t. I was just genuinely annoyed for a moment. Like damn.”

He snickers, “sorry.”

“Tch”, you click your tongue and nudge his chest, “can we talk about your tongue though? That was bloody crazy”, you say.

“I know, shit couldn’t help myself. It’s my stupid curse. It happens when I like the taste.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Yoongs. I loved it. This is single handedly one of the hottest things you can do.”

He chuckles, “good to know that my fucking curse is good for something.”

“It’s so good.”

“Mhm”, he hums and chuckles, “fuck, I can’t believe you let me tongue fuck you like that.”

“I’ll do it more often from now on. I’m telling you.”

“I’m counting on it”, he says and sighs contently, “did you like the knife play?”

“Oh my god, I was so nervous at first. Could you tell?” you say, snickering.

He snickers as well, because he is so happy when he’s with you.

“Not at all”, he says, “you were amazing.”

“Okay good. I was so nervous, but holy cow, this is so hot? What the hell?”

“Right? I told you it’s hot”, he purrs in contentment, “felt really good too. You’re a natural.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, the pressure was perfect. Mhm my princess”, he snuggles you oh so tightly, “I fucking adore you.”

Your heart flutters unbearably. Yoongi’s sweet words are rare but always honest. This just filled you with so much happiness.

“I adore you too, my prince.”

He kisses your forehead and sighs, “do you want me to take you out tomorrow?”

“Hm? What do you mean?” you ask him.

“Tell me something you want to have, I’ll buy it for you.”

You snort, craning your neck to look into his eyes.

“What?” he asks.

“Good to know that being mean to you turns you charitable. Min Yoongi, you really want to take me out to the big, big mall where there are so, so many people?”

He rolls his eyes, “fine, then don’t tell me. At least I can save money like that”, he murmurs, making you snicker.

“How about you take me somewhere nice and quiet instead? We’ll get some snacks on the way and then talk until it’s late.”

“Where to?”

“Mhm, don’t know. Maybe the beach?”

“That’s a three hour drive and it’s going to be so hot”, he whines.

“You asked me what I want and now you’re judging it?” you have to laugh, nudging his chest.

“Okay, okay fine”, he gives in with a fond roll of his eyes, “I’ll take you, but I’m not going into the water.”

“We’ll see about that when we’re there. I’ll get you in there somehow.”

“Keep dreaming”, he murmurs, snuggling into you. He relaxes with a content sigh and begins purring softly, tracing your spine.

He will do so until he falls asleep, while you trace his waist and kiss his chest until you join him in his dreams as well.

And yes, if anyone was wondering, you do manage to get Yoongi into the water the next day. He was whining about its temperature the entire time and then clutched you for warmth.

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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

Text

Not My Type (Like You) ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: you should like do a one shot or even another mini series about amortentia/love potions in general. i’d soooo read that

AU SEVENTH YEAR WHERE VOLDY NEVER CAME BACK <3 f**k that mf !

italics are for flashbacks <3 i love them if you couldn’t tell

Warnings: mean!draco, cursing, more mature themes/ideas, little bit of spice towards the end teehee but not too much bc idk how to write smut to save my life

Words: 4.5K

A/N: I saw a tiktok that kinda inspired this and i couldn’t get the idea out of my heaaaad if anyone knows which one im talking ab send it my way so i can show !!!! ALSO I LOVE THIS ONESHOT I LOVE DRACO AND I AM IN MY FEELINGS this might be my new favoriteeeee

Draco Malfoy was insufferable.

The Prince of Slytherin was unbearable for many reasons, things you've been taking notice of since your first year at Hogwarts when you accidentally had the ”pleasure” of interacting with him when he called you stupid in a class for reciting a spell incorrectly. That day, a hostility blossomed. A hostility that ensued nothing but teasing, mocking, and criticizing that would sometimes go too far and you'd both have to be pulled away from each other by your friends’ before either of you said anything excessively harsh that had no return.

You often felt like Malfoy sought you out to bother you and only for that. You could be sitting in the Quad with friends, conversing and laughing like nothing in the world mattered, and a few minutes later you'd be hurling insults towards the blond across the courtyard after he would yell something infuriating to you with that smug smirk on his face and his goons laughing wildly beside him as if he just said the most hilarious thing they've ever heard.

On the days you’d ignore him, not having the patience or the energy to deal with him, he would still somehow find a way to push your buttons. Little things here and there like passing you in the corridors and tugging at the ends of your hair gingerly like a child but enough to tick you off or sending you notes from across the class in the form a small fluttering bird with a lousy drawing of you usually with a message along the lines of, “Y/L/N, hopefully, this note finds itself in the nest of hair you have today xx DM.”

In all honesty, there wasn’t a day you didn’t encounter Draco and it’s been that way for seven long years. Neither of you ever gotten tired of mildly or spitefully bullying each other and neither of you ever dreamed of stopping. He was one of the few constants in your daily life, and you in his. It was like you both lived on annoying the other, and in the midst of all the chaos that you brought to one another; there was a small, teeny, tiny acquaintance - not that either of you would ever admit it. You may have noticed it the time you bet each other ten galleons for who would win in the Triwizard Tournament your fourth year and he bet on Viktor Krum while you on Cedric Diggory. (he’s very much alive i refuse to think otherwise.)

“So you’re telling me, your mother is the reason why you’re not at Durmstrang,” you scoffed. “This whole time I could have been saved four years of headaches.”

“You’re just jealous some of us have more opportunities than others,” he snarks back pompously. “Unlike you, I hardly believe you would be graceful enough to even be considered admission into Beauxbatons.”

You had gone to see the last task of the competition just like the rest of the schools, all packed tightly onto the stands and watching carefully the exit of the maze. Naturally, you had arrived with your own friend groups, but somewhere during the time of sitting there and even being a few rows behind the blond and his minions, the two of you had met in the middle bench after he was trying to prove something wrong to you.

When Cedric appeared back in front of the stands with the glowing Triwizard cup held high over his head in victory and every Hogwarts student loudly celebrating, you had jumped up from your seat and shook wildly an irked Draco beside you. He roughly shrugged your hands off his stiff shoulder, looking up at you with a sneer that you met with a bright beaming smile.

“Pay up, Malfoy!” You held out your hand towards him, opening and closing your fingers to receive the bet money. “I believe it was ten galleons you owe me.”

He begrudgingly reached into his coat pocket and fished out the coins, counting them defeatedly before tossing them into your palm. “What a waste of galleons.”

“Hey, you made the bet,” you reminded him with a still very bright smile. You shoved the money into your pockets, keeping one of the gold coins in between your fingers, and gave him a small hair ruffle that he harshly recoiled from before you turned to jump back up towards the level of stands your friends were originally sitting at.

“Were you really sitting with Malfoy this whole time?” One of your friends questioned when you reached them, a goading smirk on his face.

“Ooooh, she definitely was,” another friend piped up, wiggling her eyebrows. “They’re obsessed with each other.”

“Shut up,” you smack her arm casually, showing the pair the one gold galleon you were holding. “We are not. I was only sitting with him to get my bet money.”

“Sure,” they drawled in unison, sniggering when you threw your head back in annoyance.

You looked down the rows to see the mop of white hair you just sent into disarray. He was slowly descending the stairs of the stands with Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him. Almost as if he felt your eyes on his back, he turned back to look at you, his cold gray eyes gazing into yours. It was like everything around you went quiet, the only thing in your focus was him and all you could do was stare back. It wasn’t until your friends started stifling laughter and whispering “aww’s” that you snapped out of the short-lived and odd few second trance you were in. He waited for you to do something before he turned back around, and you did - by holding up both hands; the one golden galleon on your left and your middle finger on your right, grinning to yourself when he rolled his eyes throwing you the finger right back before he finally disappeared into the mob of people below.

You were briskly walking down the corridors, books held tightly to your chest with your friend at your side while you made your way to Advanced Potions with Slughorn after Snape finally made his way into the DADA position. It was an easy class, potions being something you had a knack for and it gave you enough leisure to mess with your “favorite” Slytherin who shared it with you.

“Look there goes your boyfriend,” your friend teases, elbowing your upper arm roughly and nodding her head down towards the hall to the tall blond appearing around the corner and entering swiftly into the class.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss. “I’m tired of everyone saying that. I hate him and he hates me, end of story.”

“You know when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite,” she says tauntingly. “Besides, hate is a strong word and very misplaced. Maybe, it’s just years of built-up tension that both of you have been too nervous to do anything about.”

“Tension? Yeah, I want to strangle him,” you laugh to yourself at the thought.

“Not that tension, idiot,” she shakes her head, “I mean sexual tension...clearly.”

You gave her a horrified look mixed between being disgusted and being offended. You held your hand over your mouth and pretended to gag as dramatically as you could. “I am appalled that you would even say that. I would rather be locked in a room with Filch and Peeves and hear them argue and fight all day than to be with Malfoy like that.”

“Come on, think about it,” she encourages, stopping the two of you a little ways away from the classroom. “You guys 'hate' each other?” She finger quotes the hate, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “When you hate someone, you don’t go out of your way to talk to them every day.”

“It’s not like that,” you wave a hand dismissively. “Also, this isn’t a cliche, this is real life. We hate each other, that is all there is to it.”

You picked up the walk again, your friend to following behind you while letting out a deep and exhausted sigh. You couldn’t help but think about what she said, sure, perhaps at one point you thought Draco was attractive with his bright silver hair, his glittering gray eyes, his little button nose that he would crinkle up every other word he spoke in his charming haughty voice, or the way he’d tower over you in the middle of a conversation gone wrong and he’d be talking lowly to you but all you’d be able to focus on was the sweet scent of apples and cologne that radiated off of him.

“No,” you whispered almost silently to yourself, forcing yourself out of your thoughts and shaking your head from side to side as if it was going to get the image out of your head. He was mean, disrespectful, arrogant, and insulted you daily - even if you both laughed about it or gave props for the perfect jabs.

The first thing your eyes landed on when you walked into the dingy Potions classroom was Draco, his focus trained on the ceiling as if he was deep in thought. Just as his eyes were about to flicker down towards you, and sensing that he was about to, you quickly avoided his gaze and concentrated onto Slughorn who was waiting patiently by his desk with a bubbling cauldron for you and your friend to join the crowd in front of him.

“Great! Now that we’re all here,” Slughorn began excitedly, fixing the sleeves of his robes as he grabbed the ladle in the cauldron and began stirring it while continuing his lecture.

You were trying to listen, capturing only the professor’s last sentence as he called on someone who raised their hand. All attention was thrown out the window when you realized Draco was standing near said classmate, a look of annoyance suddenly clouding his features when his pale eyes met yours.

“What?” He mouthed. You ignored him, trying to turn your concentration back onto Slughorn but nothing he was saying made sense, and right as you caught a word you did understand, a shuffling and an abrupt arm knocking into yours threw you right back out of the loop.

“Watch it,” you snap hushedly when you notice who it is. “Why are you over here?”

“I can’t say hello to my number one fan?” He whispers back, snickering slightly when you scoffed quietly.

“Fan? Says the one who shoved his way through the crowd to come over here,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“I hardly shoved,” he mutters. “I only moved because I couldn’t see Slughorn from where I was standing. Not everything’s about you.”

“Really? Because to me, it seemed like you came over here for my attention.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, a patronizing smile making its way onto his face. The type of typical boy smile where his mouth is half agape with his tongue smoothing over his teeth as he stared off across the room with his fingertips rubbing thoughtfully against his jawline as he thought of what to say. You stood still as he bent down, nearing his mouth towards your ear and whispering hotly, “you wish, darling.”

Slughorn sent everyone to their paired tables, and as everyone began moving and Draco sauntered off away from you, you stood stuck there, shocked with the lingering chills that were sent down your spine from your archnemesis’ comment.

“I told you, you’re into each other,” your friend sang expectantly from behind you, grabbing onto your sleeve and directing the two of you towards your table.

You were working peacefully at your workspace, cutting up, peeling, and crushing the ingredients that your friend was sliding across the surface to you. In the table behind you was where Draco was working annoyingly quiet, tossing the stripped stems of the roses at you that you had to peel, tiny thorns pricking at your ankles through your socks since the bigger thorns had been taken off for the potion. As payback, you would throw back loose extra pearl dust you ground up, giggling tauntingly when he would frown at you for getting the coarse white powder all over his Italian leather shoes and most definitely inside of them as well.

When you, and seemingly the rest of the class, had finally thrown in all the ingredients and the potion promptly finished brewing, beautiful clouds of white and pink smoke began rising from the cauldrons, each one having a lovely scent of first; freshly pressed high-priced linens, then a faint smell of a brand new racing broom out of a box with a freshly polished wood handle that then quickly transformed into a sweet harvest of apples, green specifically, and finally...

“Ugh, gross,” you pinched your nostrils closed, turning your body around and sending a scowl towards Draco’s way. “Malfoy, we get it, your cologne is expensive, now stop spraying it. I was smelling all these wonderful things and you ruined it.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you were crazy. “Are you mad? I didn’t spray anything, I think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Well you laid it on too heavy this morning then, it reeks in here.”

“You’re one to talk, Y/L/N. Did you bathe yourself in that dreadful perfume you wear just now? And that ghastly lip shiner thing you use,” He sneers, crinkling up his nose. “I can’t even think straight, I might vomit.”

“Lip shiner? It’s called lip balm, you prat,” you retort, crossing your arms angrily. “Either way, I haven’t used or sprayed anything either so-”

“For Merlin’s sake!” Your friend suddenly exasperated loudly from beside you making you briskly whirl around to look at her, a look of pure annoyance etched onto her face. “Are you two really that daft? Honestly? Have you been paying attention to anything other than each other? For instance, the potion we just made?”

This gained the attention of your classmates around you in the surrounding tables, turning their heads slightly but not obviously with small knowing smirks on their faces while they snickered quietly and listened. It was soundless as you reached towards the book in front of your friend, pulling it painstakingly slow towards you in fear of the words that were written on the open page.

“Amortentia,” you muttered glumly as you read the page, pushing it away from you dejectedly as everything began to click.

“The reason you’re both smelling each other is because you’re what the other desires and is attracted to. Wow, what a revelation! As if the whole school didn’t already know.”

You were afraid to turn around. You could feel the cold and hard pair of eyes burning holes onto your back and the immediate amount of whispers and giggles of the people around you. Luckily, Slughorn was busy at the other end of the room, working diligently with another pair of students who managed to mess up their potion.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco announces finally.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” You questioned, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you turned again and took notice of the way his lips were curling upwards as if it was the most disgusting thing he could have ever heard.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” he deadpans. “Why would I ever desire someone like you?”

There had been occasions over the years when you were in this situation. None as drastic and as revealing, but there would be times when friends and others would poke fun and say the exact same thing your friend told you earlier. The usual, “they got the hots for each other!” and you would always brush it off and joke about how you could never, and he’d do the same. It was always amongst laughs and jokes, but as you looked at the Slytherin in front of you - there wasn’t a hint of amusement on his hardened face.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” you seethed, biting down hard on your lip to refrain from lashing out either in tears or in insults, you couldn’t decide. “If I’m so revolting, leave me alone from now on, I mean it.”

“I never said that,” he argues. “You’re just simply not my type.”

For some eerie, awful reason, the words tore into you like a sharpened knife going easily through butter. You were used to his insults, his mocking, his comments about your appearances - but this hurt, and you couldn’t explain why. You thought, for a second, possibly, that maybe your friend was right. Maybe there was a hidden attraction you had for the platinum blond that you buried deep away and one that he had for you. There was no way that was the case now, not at all.

And for the first time in your life, you couldn’t be more sure of a simple little fact.

You hated him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You don’t know how long you spent sitting in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, back against the cold tiled wall with your knees brought up to your chest. Your friends had tried to console you after the public rejection and humiliation, but their words only made you feel worse. You felt silly for being so bothered about being rejected by Malfoy, he wasn’t exactly someone you fancied, to begin with.

After dinner, you went off the grid and found yourself where you’re now sitting. The ghostly girl flew restlessly around you, popping out of her stall now and then to chat but then going back into her abyss of nothing when she learned you were still upset. You noticed it made her a little too pleased, considering the fact it was always her who was miserably wailing about her problems in the bathroom. She tried to hide it and let you talk to her about how you felt, but she gave terrible advice most of the time.

“Well, if it was me, I would have never started fancying someone who was mean to me,” she mumbled. “Like when Paul Wighorn made fun of my hair for a whole year and laughed when I cried. I hated his guts then and I still do now.”

She had a point, but she was also Myrtle. Nothing about the overly dramatic ghost made sense.

“I don’t fancy him, It’s just weird,” you trail off. “I can’t imagine a day without him, even if he is a complete arse. We always joked about how we hated each other, but I didn’t think he actually meant it, I guess.”

“I think you do fancy him, though,” she whispers knowingly in your ear, making you flinch from her cold draft. “Stop denying it, it’ll only keep making you feel worse. Amortentia doesn’t lie, silly. Maybe when you drink it, but before that, all real feelings are there, whether you know it or not.”

You sat quietly, taking in her words before something came crashing down onto you like a wall of bricks.

“I suppose that means he’ll have to stop denying it too,” she adds thoughtfully.

“Myrtle,” you rush to get up, smoothing your hair down profusely and fixing the wrinkles in your clothes. “You’re a genius.”

“I am?” She asks excitedly. “What did I say?”

You waved her off, giving her another thank you before rushing out of the bathroom and into the empty corridors. You were trying to go back to your dorm to sleep, hoping that when tomorrow came you would be bold enough to confront the Slytherin Prince but it was thirty minutes past curfew, something you didn’t notice until you were bustling down the steps in a rush and came face to face with the man of the hour himself doing his Prefect patrolling duties.

“Go to your dorm, Y/L/N,” he sneers. “I’ll take away house points, don’t test me,”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That I’ll take away house points? Watch me. Five-”

“No, you twat,” you groan, swatting his arm with your hand. “I don’t believe that I’m not your type.”

He stayed wordless for a moment, biting the inside of his cheeks and clenching his jaw as he peered down at you from his lanky height. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t think you were my type until the amortentia made me aware of it,” you answer quietly. “Actually, my friend had a hand in it, but it was mostly the potion.”

Silence, again. Still and deadly. You could hear the large clocks around the school tick and tock, the hundreds of paintings snoring peacefully or chattering quietly. You avoided looking up at the boy in front of you, all of a sudden feeling small under his gaze until you felt cold fingers brush against your cheekbone and then softly through your hair causing you to finally look up into the soft wandering almost blue eyes.

“I didn’t find out with the amortentia,” he muttered almost reluctantly as if it was the most difficult thing he had to reveal. “I’ve known I’ve liked you for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You curiously wonder aloud.

“I’m not telling,” he smirks. “Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”

Both hands came up to rest on your cheeks, slightly cold but soft and tender. It sent chills throughout your body as he took a step closer to you and then closer, backing you carefully into the diagonally ascending stone wall that went in the direction of the stairs. Your breathing was getting uneven, you noticed the way you accidentally switched to manually forcing yourself to inhale and exhale normally when he leaned down with his face now being mere centimeters from yours. It was torture, having your eyes closed and feeling the way his nose was brushing against yours, minty breath warm against your lips as he ghosted over them with his. He was so close, you smelt everything that was in the damn potion that got you here. It sent flutters of warmth down your body, trickling down and seeping deeply into every bone in your body as if this is was the remedy its been needing. This is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally felt a soft pair of lips being pressed into yours, it felt almost unreal that you were there. It was awkward the first couple of seconds, both of you wondering how in the world had you gotten yourselves in this position, but after you relaxed and he found his Prince of Slytherin confidence - it was magic. His lips moved languidly against yours, affectionately and full of longing. He kept his hands on your cheeks, still timid to move anywhere else while you kept yours resting lightly on his sides. It scared you a little, how fast and how easily you melted into each other, like if this was something you’ve been doing with him for years rather than torment the other for laughs.

You hated the feeling when he pulled away, a gust of freezing castle air passing through the space between you and cooling your lips and face from his contact. His hands dropped down to his sides and he looked down at you with a small smile, a teeny bit smug, but happy. You wanted to feel the same way, but a question still loomed over your head, overpowering the giddiness you were vividly feeling.

“Why did you lie earlier?” You question softly, directing your gaze to the floor. “In class, I mean.”

He thought about his answer for a second, sighing deeply when he realized he had to uncover more truths about himself to you. You took a mental observation at that, he didn’t like to talk about feelings. “You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I thought I’d beat you to it and reject you before you could reject me.”

“What made you think I’d reject you?” You coaxed. “Other than the fact that I made you a sworn enemy at eleven.”

“Exactly that,” he laughed lightly. “You’re unpredictable, Y/N.”

You smiled to yourself at the realization that he finally used your first name. “So are you, Draco.”

“Not really,” he grins. “Like in just a few moments, for example, I’m going to start snogging you.”

You opened your mouth to encourage him but shut it quickly when he closed the space between the two of you again, this time much closer than he was before. He was flush against you, and when you say you could feel everything; you could feel everything. You were almost begging for him to lean down and kiss you again by the time you felt his hands on you again, running delicately around the exposed skin of your hips when your shirt hiked up an inch on accident. He leaned down again, and with the advantage of his lowered height, you let your hands slide up his arms, biceps, and ultimately the nape of his neck where your fingers continued up into his hair. The breathiest gasp escaped his throat as you tugged at the ends gently, smirking to yourself when he closed his eyes in delight at the touch.

His lips came down onto your fast this time and hastily, pressing himself impossibly closer into you. You could feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hold moving upwards onto your waist as he continued to kiss you fervently. His teeth bit down softly on your bottom lip and you wasted no time in parting them slightly for his tongue to meet yours. You tugged at the platinum strands of hair again, feeling triumphant when a low groaning sound emitted from his throat at the sensation as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.

You knew you were done for when one of his hands slowly slid up your upper body, stopping first at your collarbones with warm fingertips fluttering over the skin, before he moved it upwards completely and he now had his large hand wrapped comfortably around your neck. You gasped in delight into the kiss, a swarm of butterflies going directly to your lower stomach as he squeezed against the artery in your neck meticulously, the coldness from his Malfoy family crest ring only adding fuel to the fire. He tore his mouth away from yours with his hand still clutched firmly around your throat and you were almost sent into orbit with the look he was giving you. A look filled with desire, adoration, and intensity - his pale gray eyes were much darker, almost a dark blue that resembled the starry night sky on a summer night.

Lips reattached themselves roughly and feverishly against your jawline, peppering long and tender kisses all the way towards your ear and then down towards your collarbones where he was beginning to undo the rest of the top buttons of your school dress shirt. You felt him smile against your hot skin when you’d writhe underneath him, emitting weak whimpers that you couldn’t hold back that he ended up having to clasp a free hand over your mouth as he whispered into your ear to stay quiet.

It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a poorly lit corridor where anyone could walk past and see the frenzy that was unfolding, nor did it matter to Draco that his Prefect duties were long forgotten. Your friend was right, and everyone else for that matter; it wasn’t hate you felt for the blond at all, it was years and years of a craving and a hidden yearning packed with displaced tension.

And now, you were both exactly where you wanted to be; together.

9K notes · View notes

notnctu · 4 years ago

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push & pull | kim doyoung

❀ slytherin!doyoung x hufflepuff!femreader ❀ genre - SLOW BURN, smut, fluff, a bit of humor (idk not rlly) ❀ details - hogwarts!au, fwb to lovers?, y/n is a player lol, jealous doyoung, mutual pining, doyoung is a lil mean ❀ word count - 9.7k ❀ warnings - explicit language, possessiveness (a concept of marking), dom!doyoung, angry sex?, slight dirty talk, penetration, fingering, praise kink ❀ synopsis - in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞ ❀ a/n - i changed the plot a little bit as i was writing lol but hopefully it still fits everything! i said this in the teaser, but i want to preface and say that the magic/marking is not canon to harry potter, and that the only thing im using are the sectional houses/subjects. besides that, everything is made up LMAO also pls b lenient with me, i read hogwarts!au but writing it is very out of my comfort zone and am very bad at creating anything magical

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Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, mindlessly and imperfectly steals glances your way across the dining tables and under several hundred floating lit candles. He sits huddled with his few posh friends that wear the same green and silver tie situated so tightly underneath their necks. And you, just looking as dazzling as ever, with your yellow and black tie hanging loose and a few buttons undone from your dress shirt.

He hates how easily you catch his attention and his ability to spot your figure in a dense crowd. You barely even look his way in public now, often distracted by a broad Gryffindor that tries to make flirtatious advantages at you. And when he thinks it can’t get any worse, it does… as you’re flashing your bright beautiful smile back at him and the shift in your body language.

“You’re staring again.” Yuta flickers between his friend and the subject of his focus.

Doyoung clears his throat, smooths his tie and physically turns his body away from the horrendous scene. “It’s very hard not to stare when she’s flirting with other men in front of me.”

“Does she do it on purpose?” The silver haired boy raises a questionable eyebrow and Doyoung reacts before he can speak.

He perks up and narrows his eyes at Yuta. “Purpose? Like to make me jealous?” Doyoung scoffs, laughs almost at the ridiculous thought. “The answer is no. We’re not exclusive, we’re nothing.”

“If you two are nothing, then why are you acting like you two are something? Get a grip, it’s practically sickening watching you fume over a ditzy Hufflepuff.” As Yuta prepares to bite into his delicious soft bread roll, it flies out of his grip, down the long table and onto another person’s plate.

Both boys are quick to stand to their feet and face each other chest to chest. Neither one of them is intimidated by the other, but their other friends around them are rather shocked by the sudden discrepancy.

Doyoung forcibly brushes off an imaginary dust off his good friend’s shoulders and draws a perfectly strained fake smile, knowing that others may be watching and he is a Prefect after all. But most importantly, you could be watching. “Call her that again, and your dinner won’t be the only thing that’s thrown across the table.” His threat is loud enough solely for Yuta to hear.

Yuta, with glaring eyes, picks up his dinner tray and walks off with his chin held high and a brisk in his stride. Doyoung clears his throat in the midst of the brief silence and out of habit, fixes his tie back in place. He takes a seat back down and the chatter at the table resumes, but he’s beyond embarrassed and disappointed at his loss of temper that everything drowns out.

Almost everything. He feels a light tap on his shoulder and out of annoyance, he spins around hastily and sharply snarls, “what?” But his eyes land on your fearful wide eyes and the slight cower in your stance, knowing that you caught onto his bad mood. And he’s half in disbelief that you’re approaching him right in the center of the Great Hall, that you’re standing so beautiful a foot away from him.

Instant regret and guilt fills his chest, his sharp eyes soften at your pout and the concerned furrow in between your brows. Nonetheless, he doesn’t have any words to say… he can’t get himself to apologize for his behavior.

“Do you want to walk to Herbology with me?” The quiver in your voice made you seem so small, so desperate for him, that he can hear the reactions of his friends. They’re laughing, at him, at you, at the whole scene that’s unfolding. He feels mocked, being a laughing stock isn’t something he’s very fond of.

His lips form a tight line, and in a snarky tone, “you don’t know your own way, Puff? Mind you ask your own Prefect to guide you.” Fuck. He tried to find the nicest way possible to brush you off, but his friends laugh a bit louder and intensely. And you didn’t like that one bit.

Your lips part slightly in a frown, an eyebrow raised and a hand on your hip. You look as if you’re ready to attack him, to jinx him, to probably pinch at his skin. But he knows you, and you’d do none of the above. Instead, you say the one threat that causes his heart to sink into the pit of his stomach, “don’t talk to me in class.” You’re slipping away from him as you pick up your pace, exiting all the commotion in the Great Hall.

He tries to hide the disappointment that stems from his chest, and his heart beats with an inexplicable dull pain. All he can think about is the twist of your expression and he’s gathering his things rather quickly to follow after you, without even a bid goodbye to his clique.

Without any knowledge of what you two do behind closed doors and the complex history that you two share, one may view your relationship as practically nonexistent; you two are strangers, barely passing acquaintances.

Doyoung does not approach you in the halls, in anywhere that necessarily has many witnesses. You smile at him, maybe even a wave depending on your mood, but no one questions it … as you wave at almost everyone who passes by you.

Classmates might see interaction during the one class you two share, if they pay attention close enough. However, you and Doyoung are much more to each other than passing acquaintances. Although he’s starting to see himself as another name on your list of individuals you sleep with, you are much more to him than you could ever know.

He’ll never forget the first time you two met. He was patrolling the halls for anyone lurking past curfew with his nose dug deep in his heavy book on magical creatures, when you walked right into him and caused the both of you to fall to the granite.

He was beyond ready to dock off points for whoever the rule breaker may be, but you took his breath away when you hovered above him and clasped your palm over his mouth before he can scold anyone. You looked a bit frazzled as your hair was all over the place and he noticed your minimal amount of clothing in the middle of a cold winter night.

He saw the signature Hufflepuff badge on your thin sweater and the sound of your voice completely threw him off his tracks.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper at the stunned Prefect underneath you, whose body feels warm against your own. But your eyes remain frantically on the lookout for anyone else passing, despite the lack of light in the cobblestone hallway. You most definitely do not belong in this wing of the castle and knocking down a Prefect caused more of a problem in your escape route.

Quickly standing up, you lend your hand out for him to take. His long fingers accept your hold as he pulls himself up and dusts the dirt off his robe. His green emblem glows in the dim light and you’re internally screaming at the mess you just made for yourself. But you recognize his features: the sharpness in his eyes, the small curves of the corners of his lips, his neatly parted black hair.

“You’re in some deep---”

“---Kim Doyoung.” The boy freezes at the sound of his name and he blinks at you, curious as to where you know of him. Being a Prefect has its small perks of popularity, but he didn’t expect for it to go this far. “Y/N, we had brooms together.”

As he repeats your name and examines your pretty features, a light bulb goes off in his head. “The clumsy Hufflepuff that fell off her broom in the highest altitude?”

“If that’s how you remember me by.” You smile proudly, and he scoffs at how someone could possibly hold pride in something so silly. “It’s nice to see you around, you’re a Prefect! Wow! That’s incredible.”

“And you’re still as clumsy as you were a year ago. Falling all over the place.”

“Unfortunately, some things don’t change! But you certainly have.” Doyoung looks at you with hooded eyes and a cautious gaze, but you’re so outlandishly bold despite swaying with your hands behind your back. “Please, don’t take that the wrong way. I meant it as a compliment! I used to have a tiny crush on you, baseless, but you helped me catch my broomstick and I’ll never be able to forget that.”

Doyoung, unknowingly, lights up at your shameless confession and takes another good look at you. You're much more mature now, and if he stared into your alluring gaze any longer, he’d be completely mesmerized without the need of a love potion. “So you liked me over a meaningless chivalrous act?”

“I liked you because you were charming and yes, perhaps I am someone who finds attractiveness in men who are chivalrous. There’s nothing wrong with that.” You bat your sweet eyelashes at him so endearingly, and he’s a blushing mess all over the place.

Doyoung has had anonymous love letters passed on from his friends, but they were all Slytherins who yearned greedily to be associated with his status. So knowing that a Hufflepuff, with an innocent youthful approach to love, festered some form of infatuation with him does flatter him quite well. “I’ll let you go.”

You’re about to exhale an exasperated sigh of relief until Doyoung continues, “under one condition.”

“Okay, I’ll do anything.” Your gleaming eyes sparkle like stars paired with the night sky.

He rolls his eyes at you, “don’t be so quick to jump at conditions without hearing them first.” Doyoung groans and you passively brush off his comment.

“If it’s harmless, I’ll do it.”

And in the dead of the night, where only you two stand in the middle of an empty cobblestone hallway, Doyoung requests, “I want to see you again.”

Although that night marked the beginning of your friendship, public interactions were still scarce and this was mainly on the fault of Doyoung. The times you met were late nights past curfew where he was stationed at and he grew to enjoy your wondrous personality. This boy grew up in a Slytherin bubble his whole life, no one outside of his house ever dared approached him … at least, not with the warmest smile as yours.

You were everything he was not, but he liked it so much. You were a half that completed his whole, and there were growing pains he couldn’t confide in anyone else. Surprisingly, you knew his imperfections more than he did himself and yet, you still wanted to be around him to encourage him. Not to mention, you had a sudden growth in other parts of your body and formed into your features very beautifully.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, as there were more male counterparts who smiled at you, talked about you, fawned over you. And he felt something heighten inside of him along with his existing romantic feelings, and that he began seeing you in a new light.

With you experiencing new things, like hand holding and being showered by love letters on Valentine’s Day, it was wrong of him to fester such envy over the ones who publicly adorned you. He was so blinded by his hot headed rage that he completely missed the fact that you never accepted anyone who confessed, maybe the hand holding, but everyone else was a complete rejection.

All this time, you had been waiting for him and when you two shared your first kiss together, you had an assumption that Doyoung was going to finally confess that he felt the same way. But he never did. You two did, however, further your relationship into something more intimate and taking each other’s virginities opened a whole pathway of possibilities --- none being one where you two end up officially together.

He was the first to sleep with someone else, that was his first of many mistakes that he was going to make in his relationship with you. It also became the drop of the needle for you to start seeing other people as well, to explore what Doyoung couldn’t offer, to rid yourself of the feelings you had for a boy that didn’t seem like he wanted anything more.

Chivalry was dead and Doyoung believed that the innocent youthful Hufflepuff love had disappeared from within you.

As his present day runs after you, you’re abruptly stopped by a Ravenclaw for a small chat. Damn you Hufflepuffs for being friendly and social. So, he rushes past the two of you and into the classroom to await for your arrival. The quick shade of green flashes by your side and you’re fuming incredibly at how Doyoung continues to play you like a harp.

When you slide into your assigned seat next to him, he goes off like a canon. Doyoung starts spewing backhanded excuses and endless shameless rambles about his behavior. “I told you. Don’t talk to me during class or I will jinx you. Won’t be able to talk with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.”

“You’re not going to jinx me.” With a subtle flick of his wrist, your chair is pulled closer to his. “And if you were to do so, you wouldn’t do something so cynical.” Yelping at the abrupt usage of his magic, you’re irritably pressing your ink into your journal with a newfound annoyance.

“You’re right. I’d turn you into a duck, so at least, you’re still cute to look at.” The mindless scribbles on the paper make no sense in your head, as you’re primarily zoned in on the disrupted energy you have about your Slytherin companion. These ill feelings make you almost sick, wanting to shut out any bad replay of the moments before and forgetting about the attention you seek so much from Doyoung.

“For you to successfully cast a jinx on me, you must make eye contact first.” His finger lifts your chin and you’re eye to eye with his lustful dark stare. Doyoung licks his lips, a shine shimmers from his saliva, and he’s tempted to bring you into his chambers for an intimacy he’s been craving. “My, oh my. You’re looking very charmed today.” A grin curves up and taunts you, and you’re blinking away down at the table.

“Doyoung, we’re in class. Please, focus.” Your desperate whisper turns into a whine once his cold hand slyly smooths over your bare knee.

“Are you free later tonight?” Doyoung peers over at your side profile and your skin feels soft at his fingertips. He’s imagining your intoxicating scent mixing with his sheets, your light playful kisses along his neck, and gripping onto every naked part of you. For a whole minute, he’s forgotten that he’s in class with other no name individuals and a boring professor. He has tunnel vision whenever he’s with you.

“I have an arrangement.” The grip on your knee tightens at your quiet answer. An arrangement.

“The Gryffindor who had leafy greens in between his teeth?” Doyoung treads lightly, because you’re both well aware he’s made harsher insults than that. He retrieves his hand and picks up his pen as if he’s never touched you.

He sees your head shake out of the corner of his eye, you’re rolling your lips together sheepishly. There’s something odd about your stance and he’s growing a bit more curious…. A bit more spiteful at how closed off you are being. There’s something you’re hiding from him. “Then, who?”

“Is there something you’d like to discuss with the class, Mr. Kim? If not, I’d like for everyone to head over to the greenhouse.” As the class slightly snickers and the classroom empties, you and Doyoung are stopped by your professor.

Professor Sprout, wearing her worn out Dragon hide gloves and a thin lined smile, shoves a potted plant into Doyoung’s hands, “behave, you two. Your conversations are never very secret when spoken aloud.” She gives both of you a warning before proceeding out along with the rest of the class.

Doyoung scoffs at the absurd encounter and rolls his eyes. “Ah, you’re getting me in trouble with you now.”

“I’m sorry, Doyoung. It’s better that you don’t know.” You say this every time, when will you realize that keeping your hookups a secret only causes him more agony? He catches your wrist as you both exit the corridors, he barely ever has you alone now. And to say the least, he fucking misses you.

“Spare me some of your time after class.” He’s disgusted by himself, knowing that his eyes are begging for you to say yes. Him, a highly admired Slytherin, has settled for scraps and if anyone knew, they’d never let him live.

Your hand gently clasps over his and when you look up with your starry eyes, something inside him feels at peace. “Did you miss me?” He gulps at your question and blinks at you like a deer in headlights. If said by anyone else, he would not hesitate to snap his fingers into a malicious spell. But you ask the million dollar question so sweetly, there’s no taunt… there’s no mockery in your tone. It’s full of genuine curiosity.

So, he answers you with part of his heart that you know too well. “Unfortunately.” His body falls slightly in defeat, and suddenly the potted plant is alive in his hands. It’s wailing a dangerous and annoying loud cry, completely ruining the moment.

Doyoung quizzically ponders the monstrous green plant and its magical capabilities puzzle him, possibly reminding him to pay more attention to the actual curriculum than on your unbuttoned shirt.

Moreover, your giggle surprisingly calms him in this stressful situation and you lightly pat his hand that’s still gripping your wrist. “I’m all yours after class.”

Taking the wretched plant, you hurry off toward the greenhouse to find someone to diffuse the crying creature. Doyoung laughs in disbelief at your comical animated figure running around with a pot over your head and shouting for any student to help you. So you’re not paying attention in class either?

Doyoung takes you to your favorite place, despite the rule that you’re not allowed access to it. The Prefect Bathroom remains spotlessly clean and fresh paired with an immediate scent of rosewater and wild honeysuckle. The white polished marble gleams prettily under the twinkling diamond chandeliers and you’re twirling enthusiastically in the center of the large undressing area.

He observes and smiles widely to himself at the sight of your happiness and cute giggles. It’s always a risk to have you use their bathroom, but he is always abusing his privilege to seek your enjoyment that he truly doesn’t care about anything else. Your morality has beaten him enough and he’s heard plenty about his wrongdoings, yet here you are… sweetly dancing in the one place that’s absolutely wrong. Perhaps, you two have rubbed off a little too much on one another.

“I can never get sick of this place.” As you plead to Doyoung to cast a bubble bath, you’re already stripping out of your skirt. He shields his eyes to give you some privacy and recites the charm to run hot dazzling water in the ginormous pool. A nice soothing bath is exactly what you two need after a stressful day playing in the dirt.

“This is your favorite place.” says Doyoung with a matter of fact edge to this tone.

“It’s my favorite place because I only get to come here with you.” You jump on his back and he hoists you up by your thighs. His heart skips a happy tune. “I refuse for you to tell me the password, even if you do wish for me to enjoy the simple pleasures of a bubble bath.”

“You and your right and wrongs.” With eager hands, you’re loosening his tie from around his neck. “You stripped so fast that you’re going to get a cold.”

“It’s going to get steamy really soon. Plus, I know you like me best without any clothes on.” Your hot breath tickles the shell of his ear and a blush scatters across Doyoung’s cheek. Button after button, his open shirt exposes his toned build. He sets you on the edge of the elevated step before the bath.

Doyoung smirks at your nakedness and your hot lustful expression. Leaning in until he’s practically breathing against your lips, he stares straight into your eyes. “My Puff knows me best.” And dives into you with all his soul. Fruitful drags of his lips along yours, his long tongue enters your mouth. His large hand carefully caresses your cheek to pull you further into the kiss, noses pressing into skin and with a desire to never part.

His heart swells lovingly, kissing you feels like the best thing in the world. There are no tricks, no spells, no recited charms, but you are more than magical. The same surge of energy runs through his veins, but unlike his impressive ability as a notable wizard, he can’t control it. You make him lose control. As meticulous and cautious as he is, you’re the first thing he doesn’t think through.

Your needy hands push off his dress shirt and he hurriedly unbuckles his belt. When you break the kiss, he automatically pouts and pulls you back in for one more lingering peck. “Are you going to scrub my back for me?” You smile, dragging him closer to the overflowing bathtub.

Large puffs of white bubbles spill from the rims and disappear with your every step. It reminds you of sea foam that washes upon the shore, with a floral fragrant that fills your lungs. “That’s quite an intimate gesture, but yes.”

After removing all his garments, he joins you in the large pool of glossy bubbles and the clouds of steam that rises from the water suffocates him warmly. He sits with his back against the wall and eyes unwavering on your alluring expression.

The bubbles do a great job at covering your breasts, but his sneaky hands snake under the water to grip them. Doyoung grabs a full tit and thumbs over your erect nipple, all while he holds the most sensual gaze with you. Slowly, you naturally end up in his hold and your wet back relaxes against his chest.

The beating of his heart is too loud and surely, you can feel the way it jumps out of his chest. Doyoung attaches his lips on your skin and as you’re melting at his harsh suckling. However, you perk up and snap out of your dazed arousal at the realization of his purposeful licks. “You’re trying to mark me?”

His hand continues to rub and twist your aching nipples. The sensation stimulating the growth of pleasure to sprout below and your mind to wander.

“Possibly.”

A lovers’ mark is the ultimate testament of mutual love. Engraving the skin with your beloved’s Patronus, wherever the giver chooses to mark. Love emblems are meant to be something sacred to the couple, a way to make someone completely untouchable to everyone else. Not only does the symbol glow with an iridescent shine whenever love is felt, it also numbs any romantic feelings for all others besides the partner.

Besides the use of possessiveness, it’s a beautiful way to discover one true love since the engraving of their Patronus shows up on the skin under the conditions that both individuals must be madly in love with one another. And if it doesn’t end up forming, the receiver is left with a bright, sparkling star hue in its place before fading away completely. If it does appear, it fades when both fall out of love.

“Doyoung--” His name falls from your lips as a moan and he’s running down to explore the beauty between your legs. “--can’t do that unless you actually want to commit to me.”

“I am committed to you.” The more your neck cranes off to the side and exposed to him, the more he wishes to etch the symbol of his love for everyone to see. A hand is hooked under your thigh to keep your legs spread open and you’re gasping at the slight pressure from the water.

“Romantically committed to me.” You remind him, but your train of thought is cut fairly short as Doyoung begins rubbing circles on your needy clit.

“You’re afraid of it showing up?” He’s lathering your breasts with bubbles and dragging his long finger along your slit. His greediness overtakes him and with wandering hands, he’s gripping every part of you that they can reach. Doyoung’s guilty pleasure is always going to any form of physical affection from you specifically. When he finally gets ahold of you, it’s hard for him to let go.

Your warm skin is delicate and smooth beneath the very tips of his fingers and every exploration of your terrain makes him feel inexplicable explosions of fondness. Perhaps, you’ve captivated him and although he believed it would take something as extreme as the Amortentia to have him falling for someone, you did it as easily as being yourself. His better half.

So, he’s impressed by your genuineness and how he’s willing to give up parts of his reputation to unapologetically be himself around you. No one else matters, nothing else matters, but why must it be so difficult to tell you that?

“I’m afraid of it not showing up.” You’re more than convinced that Doyoung has confused his strong sense of lust with love and there would be no possible way his Patronus would appear. It’s better to save the embarrassment for the both of you.

Spinning in his arms, the water twirls to the curves of your body and he’s admiring parts that expose above the surface. He’s matched with your beauty before him, resemblance to the stained glass window that situates above the large bathroom.

However, the doubt in your statement finally reaches his ears and he’s grabbing your ass as you settle over his thighs again. His furrowed eyebrows bring together a rather upset expression --- lip pout and all.

“Why wouldn’t it show up?” Doyoung puzzles, bringing your arms to wrap around his neck. Leaning into him, your pruney fingers trace his smooth chin and he notices your quick flicker between his eyes and his lips.

While your gentle kiss reassures him of your subtle endearment, your next words do the opposite. “You tell me.” All you do is push him away with your vague doubtfulness, like you’re constantly testing him and using his poor guessing skills to your own advantage. He can pull you close after any altercation he wants, but you push him away in any emotionally romantic sense.

“You’re rather mischievous and mysterious today,” Doyoung squeezes your ass and smacks it lightly, causing ripples in the water. “I liked it better when you told me everything you felt.”

Suddenly, his fingers poke at your entrance and his other hand drops in between your legs again. Your mouth opens in shock when his long fingers enter slowly and he enjoys the pleasurable contour of your reactions. “Like this, for example.” The pad of his fingers working rapid flicks against your sensitive bud. “How does this feel?” His whisper dances across your shoulder, landing a kiss at the end of his question.

Your moans echo in the lavish bathroom, bouncing off the marble walls and encouraging Doyoung to keep a steady pace. There’s no worry about how loud you may be, Doyoung charms every room before every lustful encounter. This allows you to let go, let free, let him know how he makes you feel.

He curves his fingers into you, pumping and dragging into your tightness until you’re practically screaming. He only has one thought, as his eyes trail down your intoxicated needy figure, how beautiful you are as a moaning mess under his control. Your head is thrown back, eyes are squeezed shut and opening them to see nothing but tiny yellow starlight.

Dainty kisses line your exposed neck line and his ego swells with so much pride. Doyoung has mastered every flick of his wrist to have you under his trance, spewing nonsensical words and forgetting anyone else that exists. He gives your erect nipples harsh licks and with a faint drag of teeth, the sensation pushes you to your end.

Sporadic pleasurable convulsions cause your legs to close around Doyoung’s hands, but the strength of his knee keeps them apart. “Doyoung… I’m going to free fall.”

Leave it up to you to beautifully announce your climax. He snickers, applying more pressure on your clit and a rubbing motion against your walls. “I’ll catch you.”

Moon crescents embed into his skin as you’re holding onto him with your whole life. As your scream hits every octave, the massive collection of bubbles that cover the surface of the bath fly and splatter every corner of the pristine room.

White and wet bubbles drip down from the walls, falling from the diamond chandeliers, and coating every steamy mirror. Doyoung’s eyes light up from the chaos, making sure you’re riding out your high for as long as he can provide.

Your body trembles with euphoria, falling forward into Doyoung’s chest and squeezing around his lazily pumping fingers. For a brief second, your mind is wiped and nothing in the world feels better than being in this perfect moment with the one person who’s Patronus you hoped would etch your skin.

If one possesses feelings that are practically unbearable to contain, one should confess… right? For all your life, you’ve lived by this statement. Friends do not hear the end of it and most surely, one should follow their own advice… right?

So why do you yearn for Doyoung in your gaze as he stands across the Great Hall as if he doesn’t know of your existence? As if he wasn’t kissing you in the Prefect bathroom a few days prior?

It’s not an understatement to say that you catch the attention of almost every person in the room, but the one head that refuses to turn your way… the one who’s looks you wish to steal… is the one person who looks right through you.

Feelings have become a nuisance ever since the first time you confessed to him and it was worse than landing on cobblestone after falling off your broom. The reason why you’ve buried them deeper than any chamber is that you’re positive that the prized Slytherin would rather be with another, preferably one from his own house.

While you try to remain optimistic and playful for the time being, you’re simply replaceable to him. He can barely care to acknowledge you in public when Gryffindors boast about you in their arms like winning a trophy. You’ve kept good relations with every Ravenclaw you’ve slept with. You’ve kindly rejected every romantic gesture another Hufflepuff has offered.

But if there is one thing you’ve learned about him is that he’s lived in his Slytherin circle for as long as he lives. And it will stay that way. You’re his sweet Hufflepuff that he’ll push away at no cost, then pull you back in secrecy.

Now if one feels as if they’re wasting their time, one should leave… right? Wrong. Kim Doyoung has skewed with your morality… and your feelings remain loyal to him since the day he confessed to see you again.

“Lemon-drop, I’ve been looking all over for you.” An arm slings around your shoulders and the notable red and gold tie is the first thing you see. Jung Jaehyun, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, flashes his deep dimples at you. “Walk with me.”

He extends his palm out for you to take and your friends painfully elbow your sides to wake you from your hesitation. Taking his hand, you get up from the dining table and follow him out the Great Hall.

Doyoung sees the scene unfold before him and rolls his eyes at how Jaehyun’s dimples are all it takes to have you wandering off with him. Despite every wicked intent to follow you two, he heads out in the direction of the dormitories to fume in his room.

“It’s such a nice and sunny day today.” Jaehyun runs a hand through his luscious brown locks. You both exit into the front courtyard as other students are scattered on the lawns mingling with one another. When you peer up at the sky, the sun is barely seen past the layers of clouds.

“Jaehyun, is there something you needed to speak with me about?” His laughter roars, full of hefty song and amusement.

“Listen, lemon-drop. I like you and I have a feeling you feel the same way. I want to mark you if you’d let me.” Jaehyun smirks and just as he brings your hand up for a kiss, you gently let go. “Am I coming off too strong? We don’t have to do it today, I just wanted to see if it would show.”

“Jaehyun, you’re going to find an extravagant person one day. A person who is going to know all your favorite castle balconies to swing from and how you like to be kissed on the nose.” His ears grow a bright red and for once, his gaze drops to the ground. “I am, unfortunately, not that person for you so I must kindly reject your confession.”

As you turn on your toes, Jaehyun lightly holds your wrist to stop you. “But, you know all those things about me. Is there anything I can do to prove that we belong together?”

“I know them because I care enough to remember things you tell me, not because I loved you enough to observe these things about you. I give you my word that there is nothing you can do to prove me otherwise.” The corners of his lips dip downward and you’re running to the one person that will erase this sad rejection from your memory.

When you’re scanning the Great Hall for any sign of him, he’s not there and it leads you to his only hiding place. Doyoung loves to shut himself out from the rest of the school whenever he gets the chance. However, a lost Hufflepuff wandering outside the entrance of the Slytherin dormitories is rather an odd sight to see and you haven’t had the chance to form many connections from this house.

The sparse amount of Slytherins you know aren’t going to be passing by, unless with some stroke of luck, someone will be kind enough to open the door for you. Every person passes by you with questionable stares until a silver haired boy blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Who is it that you’re trying to see?” He asks abrasively, but softens his tone when he realizes that you mean no harm.

You bid him a small grin, “your Prefect.”

“And what for?”

“There is an urgent matter that involves him and he’s practically unreachable when he’s hiding away in his private room.” The boy narrows his eyes at you, but beckons you to follow him down to the Slytherin dungeon.

Excitedly, you hurry behind him and whisper over his shoulder, “what’s your name?”

“Nakamoto Yuta. No need to tell me yours, I’ll doubt he’d want me to know.” He spits and then, mutters the enchanted password to reveal the large green common room. “Come this way.” He leads up the boys’ dorms and walks briskly. Although you never mentioned a name, Yuta seems to already know who you’re here to see and it makes you wonder how he must know.

“Open up.” Yuta stops and knocks at the wooden door, Kim Doyoung written in a fancy penmanship on the center. “You have a guest.” He looks your way before rolling his eyes at Doyoung’s irritated tone through the other side.

“Tell them to leave.”

“He wants you to leave.” Yuta repeats, mostly to satisfy Doyoung’s nag.

“That’s fine. Thank you for bring---” The door swings open abruptly and Yuta almost loses his balance. Doyoung frantically turns his head side to side to comprehend what he is seeing. His ears felt deceived, hearing your voice through the door, he had to make sure it wasn’t you.

But you stand before him and Yuta. Here you are approaching him whenever he least expects it. “What are you doing here?”

“I came by to see you. I’ve been here plenty of times.”

“What are you doing bringing her in?” scolds Doyoung and the other boy shrugs carelessly.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her bat puppy eyes at several other Slytherins and have her telling everyone who passes her that she came here to see our Prefect? It was also getting cold out.” Yuta mumbles, but finds great entertainment at seeing how frazzled Doyoung has gotten by your presence.

“It was a bit chilly.” You admit and Doyoung groans, pulling you into his room and shutting the door on Yuta. “Thank you, Yuta.” You whisper through the crack between the door frame.

“It’s too risky for you to be searching for me around other Slytherins.” Doyoung paces the room and you notice his tie is loose and shirt is unbuttoned around his neck. “Why are you here?”

“A Gryffindor blew me off. I thought I’d come and see you with all the free time I can get.” Taking a seat at the end of his neatly made bed, your legs swing adorably and Doyoung almost doesn’t hear you.

“Jaehyun? Does he think he’s too good for you or something? That cocky dimple Gryffindor, with the draw of my wand---” Doyoung whips out his intricately customized Dragon Heartstring, and you’re on your feet to calm his temper down.

“Will you put that thing away? I’m here for you.” Your giggle warms his tight chest and puts out the fueling flame for anyone who dares to hurt you in any way. “It’s not a big deal and it’s not the first time it has happened.”

Doyoung uncomfortably clears his throat and withdraws his wand. Buttoning up his shirt, he fixes his tie back in place. To say the least, your words erupted his festering jealousy and this may have been a small tipping point.

Before you had entered, he was so frustrated with himself and you. You can just walk away with another man without a second thought, in front of him too. He remembered the soft feeling of your body and how he’s not the only one who’s needy hands ran their course over you. That may be the one pain he can never get rid of.

“I never understood why you give other men the time of your day when they just brush you off undeservingly.” He stings and you’re slightly surprised at his sudden attack. When you respond in silence, he continues.“I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?”

Crossing your arms, your weight is barred on your left leg and there is a shift in your overall mood. With an eyebrow raised, you sass him back, “People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you chase after me?”

Doyoung swallows hard and blinks at you speechless. A clammy hand runs through his black strands as he tries to find any possible explanation without confessing his feelings. If he had a plan to confess, it would never be in the middle of an inquisition with you.

“I guess you didn’t think before acting on your desires.” And how he hated how correct that statement is. He doesn’t ever think whenever he’s around you. All his actions are conducted with his emotions and the feelings that overtake him.

Doyoung scoffs, rolling his eyes at your rash comment. “Aren’t you supposed to have the strongest morality among all the houses?”

“Sleeping with multiple men isn’t morally wrong. There’s nothing wrong with it…” The slight hurt from his question is difficult to ignore, but you must remember one thing if you want to protect your heart on your sleeve. This is nothing serious to be bickering over. You two aren’t anything serious, so why feel the need to squabble over nonsense? “... it would only be wrong if someone liked me and wished to commit to me.”

Your eyes meet and Doyoung blinks at you with wide eyes. His Adam’s Apple bobs as he gulps again, completely whiplashed at how the conversation has turned. “And if that’s the case and you like me, would that make you jealous, Doyoung? That’s why you’re trying to poorly attack my character?” He’s never heard such a strong taunt in your tone and he’s baffled by it, slightly aroused, but shocked.

“I don’t like you.” His voice is small and he pouts his lips at you. Doyoung crosses his arms and perhaps, his sad expression reveals a little more than it should have. Your heart softens at his ridiculously cute response, had you expected something much more angry and vindictive.

“Then this conversation is over, right? I’ll be on my way now. I have herbology.”

“We have the same class.” He grumbles, grabbing his robe from his desk chair.

You open the door to make your exit, “but since you don’t want to be seen with a Hufflepuff, I’ll go ahead first.” When you stumble out into the hallway, a recognizable face brightens at your appearance.

“Haechan! Hello, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You’re cheering and Doyoung chews the inside of his cheek. His pride is left at the door and along with all the things that hold him back from you, he doesn’t want to push you away anymore.

“My favorite Hufflepuff, are you just leaving?” Haechan walks up to open his arms, wishing to embrace you in the longest hug. However, Doyoung quickly takes you by your hand and rushes past him.

“She came to walk with me to class. Bye Haechan.” And Haechan is left standing in the middle of the hallway, confused and watching your backs as you’re both briskly walking out the common room.

Doyoung looks back at you, “you think I’m going to let you walk out of my room and have another Slytherin walk you to class? Don’t be so foolish.”

But you are foolish. Your heart beats foolishly and loudly for Kim Doyoung. And may you be foolish enough to wonder if his heart does the same for you.

And it does. Foolishly. Loudly. Lovingly.

You both wonder if this vicious cycle will ever meet its end. Doyoung pushes you away by ignoring your existing relationship, but pulls you back into his embrace as if it never happened. You push him away by running off with other men, but come back to him as if he’s the one person you’re loyal to.

But on this particular night, after mass circulation of rumors reaches the ears of the lovesick Slytherin, Doyoung is pulling you away from your huddled group of friends in the middle of the long corridor hallways. Without any greeting, any spoken words, he’s dragging you to his room right in front of everyone to see. His hand around yours like it was two days prior, but with an expression so grave on his sullen face.

The silence between you two brings no comfort, but you don’t dare say the first words. Doyoung, finally, approached you first in public and it is possibly for a greater reason. Perhaps you’ve done something horribly wrong, and the moment you two step into his room that you’ll hear a mouthful.

However when he closes the door to his room, your hand immediately drops from his embrace and he turns to face you. There is a darkness in his eyes, one that light cannot touch, and his lips are tight in a line.

There is an eerie silence that fills the dark room and the murky windows paint the area an ominous green. Doyoung focuses on your confused, yet adorable expression. “Why did you lie to me?”

The door catches your slight stumble and you’re blinking cluelessly at him. “About what?”

“Jaehyun.” He breathes the name in spite and aggressively loosens his tie. “He didn’t blow you off. You rejected him and he’s telling everyone it's because you’re in love with someone else.”

You scorn at such a ridiculous rumor and for the fact that it’s even made its way around to Doyoung. Another realization hits you. All it took for him to approach you in public is a meaningless rumor.

So in response, you laugh and it mocks him further. “This is not a laughing matter, y/n.”

“I’m sorry, but why are you so upset at that? Fine. I did lie to you, but I never told Jaehyun I was in love with anyone else.”

“Are you in love with someone else?” Doyoung says with balled fists at his side. There is a mixture of anger and sadness running through his veins and he’s so sick of feeling this way.

Your hesitation speaks for you, “It’s better that you don’t know.”

“You say this every time and it does nothing to ease my conscience.” Doyoung throws his hands in the air and stares at you with sharp eyes. “Is that why you were afraid that my emblem wouldn’t show up? Because your heart belongs to another. Yeah, I heard Jaehyun wanted to mark you too.”

Men and their constant want to prove something to themselves with their marks. Everyone has a twisted reality of markings now. There have been many others who have tried to mark you, feeling as if lust would be enough to suffice its appearance. As one's Patronus is special to their own protection, a beloved’s Patronus mark holds the same value.

You’re quite at a loss for words, “I was afraid that it wouldn’t show up, not because of myself, but because of you.”

Doyoung points at himself in disbelief. Him? He loves you more than anyone he’s ever encountered, even if you didn’t know it. “I wouldn’t have almost tried it if I wasn’t sure of myself.”

“You don’t love me, Doyoung. I don’t even know if I can even say you romantically like me.” Those words hurt the both of you and it lingers in the room for longer than you’d like.

“Do you think I fuck you meaninglessly like all those other losers you sleep with?” Doyoung steps forward, pulling you into his chest and admiring everything he’s fallen in love with. A pain spreads across his heart as he thinks of you with another person, of someone else kissing you, of someone else making you happy.

“You really don’t feel it in the way I kiss you?” He asks once more and your own stare drops to his shoulder, a bit ashamed to maintain eye contact with such pained eyes.

“And if I did? How would you explain that? That you are actually in love with me?” Your questions pelt him like rocks. As he pushes you on his bed, you pull him down with his tie.

Doyoung drinks you up like fresh water, a crisp and refreshing love that encourages him to reach heights. His hand cups your face and his feather touches reminds you of his gentleness. Your lips taste like sweet honey, dripping and coating him with a sticky sugar.

He’s happier with you and he’s the happiest kissing you. Perhaps, it’s hard for him to express with words, but he’d always hope his actions speak louder. So, his lips press against yours with a whirl of passion and every good feeling that grows in his chest.

The collar of his shirt is wrinkled in your fist and you’re holding him as if you’re afraid of him letting go. Doyoung runs a hand down your torso and lifts the end of your skirt up. A warm hand pushes your legs apart and a finger presses your clit through your cotton panties.

Your mouth opens into a moan and he takes this opportunity to shove his long tongue inside, lapping with your own. As a wet spot forms on your panties, he pulls them to the side and gathers the slick to gently rub your erect clit. His name is lost and muffled in the kiss, but you tap at his chest.

When he breaks away and halts all movement, he looks down over you with a fire burning in his dark orbs. And a confession falls from his swollen lips, “may I mark you?”

“And if it doesn’t show up?” Though, you’re wishing to the most powerful wizards that it does or else your heart would shatter into a million pieces beyond repair.

He bites his lip and every possible outcome scatters his thoughts. It’s too hard to concentrate, so he doesn’t at all. He focuses on your pretty lips and the way you look at him like he’s the only person that matters. “Then, we’ll deal with the consequences later.”

With your quick nod, Doyoung attaches his lips to your neck and harshly sucks at your skin. For the most part, it’s a pleasurable feeling and sends a shiver down your spine. So, he licks and nibbles until he can barely breathe. Your faint scent of patchouli and ginger intoxicates him, wraps him up in a fuzzy coziness that is unmatched.

Your hands unbutton his shirt and a final gentle bite seals his mark. If the love is reciprocated, the emblem would take a moment to form. Doyoung is rather hopeful and excited, as he’s never seen his Patronus before. “You look beautiful.”

“And you look dazed as if someone charmed you.” You giggle and kiss his red lips.

“You’re quite the powerful one, my Puff.” He smiles against your jaw before proceeding to your mess down below. He gives your aching clit a few licks, which cause your body to twist and turn at the sensitive sensation.

“Please, I haven’t felt you in so long.” Whining and tugging at his hair, Doyoung leaves a lasting kiss and gets up to remove his pants.

“Did you miss me?” Doyoung raises a suggestive eyebrow and cocks his head to the side in mockery, a smirk growing on his face.

You reply with a silly response that only he knows and causes him to chuckle, “unfortunately.” And he’s finding every way not to confess his endearments for you.

His dick stands tall and proud against his abdomen, giving it a few jerks as he watches you strip out of your own clothes. You turn around and sit on your knees, with a slight tilt forward and the arch in your back to accentuate your ass.

Doyoung rolls on the protection as quickly as he can. His hands lightly smack your cheeks and slowly enters your dripping hole. His hands grip your hips as he slides deeper into you, both being moaning messes at the delicious feeling.

“Have you always been this big?” You look back at him and to which he devilishly smiles at you.

“You know just the way to fuel my ego,” when his length is fully buried inside of your tight walls, he wraps an arm around your waist and a hand on your tit. “After all the times you’ve been fucked, your pussy is still as tight as ever.”

Doyoung slams hard into you, showing no mercy and causing you to jolt up. He takes every frustration, every feeling of anger, every ounce of jealousy into his thrusts. “But you take me so well, darling. I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you.”

His compliments cause your heart to soar, despite the soreness you’re beginning to feel in your pussy. He’s relentless, bottoming out until his tip is practically in your guts. “Just like that, baby. You’re the only one who fucks me this good.”

He blushes under the low light and leans forward to kiss the top of your head. “My Puff, you’re so sweet to me.” The loud squelch of your tight pussy gripping his dick fills the hot room, “and so wet.”

You’re shamelessly dripping on his green velvet blanket and Doyoung picks up his speed. Your knees give out as you fall face forward into the mattress, hands in fists from the incredible pleasure of every hit. Your ass now in his full view and every tingle of magic lights up in his veins.

Your throat is raw from screaming and moaning, Doyoung holds your hips steady to thrust into a new angle. Automatically, your body twitches as his tip hits your special spot and he’s well aware that you’re close to releasing.

And with his fast thrusts, he asks you an intimate question that is fueled by envy and rage. “If I fuck you the best, then why do you sleep with other men?”

There are no thoughts in your mind to even give him a white lie, to mask the truth of your actions. He’s fucking you into an oblivion that it’s hard to even focus on anything besides pleasure. The books on his shelf begin to tremble as you’re crying out, “I- I don’t know! Fuck, please… ! I’m tipping over.”

“Answer the question or I will stop.” He’s absolutely cynical and you have every reason to believe his threat. Doyoung lifts your limp body upright, against his torso and an arm secured around your middle as before. His hand snakes to your clit, rubbing feathering circles over the neglected bud.

Nonetheless, his single action paired with his tip grazing harshly against the particular spot causes your legs to tremble. “Do you want me to stop?” His threat rings in your ears when you still left him without an answer.

You’re so close, you’re starting to see white. So, you say what your heart tells you and the truth falls from your lips in a loud confession. “Because I wanted you to love me instead! I fucked them to forget about my love for you… fuck, I’m--”

“I’ve got you. Let go of yourself, baby.” Doyoung slows his hips when your walls squeeze around him sporadically. Every book flies out and hits the opposite wall, clattering the floor with heavy academia. However, he repeats your proclamation endlessly in his mind and his heart surges with the most intense romantic desires.

“I do love you, y/n.” He whispers, cumming into his rubber and simply holding you tightly. He lets go of every prideful arrogance in his body, tossing the lame reputation he always tried to hold onto. He didn’t need that if it meant losing you. Doyoung chuckles to himself for being an obvious cliché, announcing one’s love in the midst of a lustful act. He pulls out and gently tucks you into the covers.

Breathless, you’re finally realizing his confession. “You do? Are you sure?” Any subtle movements has your aching lower half in pain, so you settle with resting on his plush pillows and await for him to join you in bed.

All this time, from beginning to now, you’ve been oblivious to his yearning looks across the Great Hall. The intensity of his kisses had been lost upon you completely as you had convinced yourself that he was incompatibly of loving you back. Even now, as you lay in slight doubt, you’re wondering how you managed to have everything fly over your head.

When he discards his used protection and with a quick flick of his wrist, every book finds its original place on the shelf again, he enters the warm covers. Your arms wrap around his neck and you’re admiring each other’s expressions in the low light. He spots the notable twinkle in your eyes and his thumb lightly rubs your cheek.

“If the symbol of my Patronus doesn’t show, I promise to love you harder until it does.” Doyoung leaves the softest, most loving kiss on your lips. He’s more than thankful for the lack of light as he’s bashfully red all over his cheeks.

“Usually, people just give up.” Your voice is harsh, possibly from the deafening screaming of pleasure prior.

Doyoung shakes his head. He’s made too many mistakes in this relationship with you. Sleeping with another. Ignoring your existence. Being too prideful to be seen with another house. All these incidents have made him feel nothing but ugliness and distraught, and pushed you away further than how much he is able to pull you back.

He loves you. He’s in love with you. He’s fallen for you recklessly as you did off your broom the first encounter. You’re everything he’s never been and never will be, yet you don’t care. You’re by his side, despite his spitefulness and you never miss a beat. That innocent youth approach to love, oh how he wishes it never faded, and though he thought it did, it didn’t. You remain true to your character when he fights with himself internally.

“That would be a mistake and I can’t afford to keep making them.” A glossy sheen over Doyoung’s regretful eyes, but you pull him closer and you refuse to let his eyes wander.

A tired harmless sigh escapes your lips and a dreamy haze overcomes you. Besides the reminder of needing to use the bathroom flashing in your mind, there is nothing else you want to dissect. Feelings are too complex to discuss at the moment and the resolve has already passed.

Regardless of the marks appearing, you’re content with the night and for the rest of your days. Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin boy of your dreams, loves you back and the power of that alone beats any spell in those dusty old textbooks.

“Why can’t we lay here forever?” Your heavy eyelids fall slowly and your voice grows small.

Doyoung kisses your shoulder, then your neck. “That’s impossible. I can’t give you forever.” He mumbles against your skin, sending vibrations across your throat.

“You are my forever.” Doyoung halts and is left speechless as a white glowing entity catches his eye. And the absolute perfect outline of his Patronus sits underneath your jaw, brightly shining with iridescent brilliance --- he makes out the outline: a White Swan, representing his love for you. Doyoung smiles to himself and hopes for it to never fade. Perhaps, he can give you forever.

some fun critical questions to think about hehe -

why do you think y/n lied to doyoung about jaehyun confessing? why do you think yuta helped y/n enter the Slytherin dormitories? what is the meaning behind the White Swan Patronus? Why do you think y/n continued to like doyoung after all this time?

there are no right or wrong answers, just something fun to have you thinking a little more about the fic haha if you want, you can send me an ask about it :) but overall, no pressure and thank you for reading! please leave me some feedback if you can! happy new year!

4K notes · View notes

animeomegas · 3 years ago

Note

you ask for headcanons? i will deliver, lol. so in all your writing, sasuke has hated to show his more vulnerable sides. at the end of the pregnancy, he's probably about to snap too; i imagine there's more than once where he happened to accidentally kick a nurse or smt, shinobi reflexes and all. and that when the s/o has to leave the room (idk, maybe they have to pee) he literally clings to them. maybe itachi too, but itachi feels like he'd be in more pain so he'd cling in a more whiny way, if that makes sense? both of them would absolutely let nobody hold the child except for the s/o though, i think,,, or maybe itachi would let shisui and sasuke hold them for a sec before wanting them back in his arms lol (in a non-massacre au tho... otherwise not even sasuke would be allowed)

those were just some thoughts, hope you can enjoy them!

(I love this so much, thank you for sharing your thoughts with me! I'll separate it out a little for coherency!)

Sasuke -

By the end of his pregnancy, Sasuke's mental state is fluctuating wildly. He's actually induced early because he's getting so bad that the mednin are worried he'll hurt himself and his pup during a panicked episode.

So, no one is surprised when he starts lashing out at the mednin while in labour. The mednin tell you that you are not to leave his side for even a moment unless you have to, because there's no way of predicting how he'll react in this mental state. He's obviously very unsettled.

But you really have to pee... So you try to explain that to him, but all Sasuke hears is that you're leaving him. You're leaving him when he needs you to protect him the most. He won't let that happen. He can't cope if you're not there.

He latches himself onto his alpha as best as he can and starts begging them not to leave. He'll say anything he can think of to get them to stay with him. You've never seen Sasuke let go of all his pride so readily.

But of course, you have to go and use the toilet. It's attached to the room, so you run as fast as you can, leaving the door open a crack so that he can still hear you talking to him.

But it's not enough.

Sasuke freaks out badly. His scent is so panicked, it draws all the mednin into the room which only makes him more upset because he has all these unknown people with him while he's too vulnerable to protect himself and his pup, and his alpha has abandoned him.

By this point, you rush back to him, having only been gone for a minute at most, and Sasuke loops his arms around your neck and locks his fingers. He's babbling incoherently, torn between thanking you for coming back and begging you not to leave again.

The mednin try and drug him a little to get him to relax but he growls them all away. He's in self-defence mode, so he won't allow any medical personnel anywhere near him.

It makes everything a lot more difficult, but as Sasuke's pain level starts to mount, he focuses on that and starts to calm down little by little, and eventually he lets the mednin assist him.

"You came back!" Sasuke's sobs, entirely hysterical and latching himself firmly around your neck. "I'm sorry- don't- please- I'll die if y-you leave, I'll-I'll do anything, I'll be good, don't leave!"

"I didn't leave baby, I'm right here," you promise, frantically trying to soothe him by keeping him pressed firmly against your chest. "You're perfect, you didn't do anything wrong, I'll never leave you, I promise."

Sasuke didn't respond, but didn't loosen his grip either. This is going to be your first and final pup, there's no way you would ever put Sasuke through something like this again.

As far as letting other people hold the pup, Sasuke is very possessive, you're right. At first, it's a case of instincts gone wild, but once he's calmed down, he just doesn't trust anyone enough to let them hold his pup. They'll probably drop them or something. He's sort of okay with medical personnel touching and handling his pup, but only up until a certain point.

Some omegas can get possessive to the point where they don't let their mates hold the pup (although that's usually a sign of an unstable bond) but Sasuke is more than happy to have his mate hold their pup. I mean, they're basically holding Sasuke up at the moment, he trusts them explicitly.

Itachi -

Itachi is clingy, but not too much more so than an average omega. You're right, he's in a lot of pain, so he automatically reaches for his alpha to help soothe him.

He's also terrified that he'll die without ever getting to meet his pup and his alpha is keeping him grounded and focused on the job he's supposed to be doing.

Itachi likes his alpha to sit behind him while he's in labour. It feel like he's protected, and also it's very comforting to be fully in his alpha's embrace.

However, Itachi is a lot more possessive over his pup than Sasuke. It was almost lucky that Itachi passed out after giving birth because he would have fought every mednin that tried to take his child out of his arms, no matter what the reason.

But because he did collapse, he instead wakes up to his alpha sitting beside him, holding their son, and Itachi is so in love that he never wants to let anyone else even look at his child.

He lets Shisui and Sasuke and his mother sort of play with the newborn by touching his hands and stuff, but Itachi holds him the whole time.

It takes months before Itachi lets someone else other than him and his mate hold his pup, in fact, after giving birth, Itachi doesn't even leave his nest for about a fortnight because he wants to keep his pup hidden and safe.

"But, what if they want to hold him?" Itachi asks, voice quiet and weak after his traumatic birth. It had been a few hours since he had woken up and his family were now here to visit him and see the new addition to the family. "I don't think I want that yet, but would it be rude to say no to my own parents?"

You smile and scoot a bit closer to him.

"Here, I have an idea," you reach over and pull his shirt off of one of his shoulders, exposing that side of his chest. "He must be getting hungry now, let's see if we can get him to latch again."

Almost immediately, your pup latches on and starts to feed.

"There," you coo. "He's a natural. Now they can't ask to hold him, because he's feeding."

Itachi laughs softly at your plan, but its obviously feeling more at ease now. You pick up a very thin blanket and lay it over Itachi's chest to give him some privacy and then you go and fetch his family.

#itachi #sasuke #omega!itachi #omega!sasuke #naruto #headcanons #a/b/o #omegaverse #reader insert #alpha!reader #itachi x reader #sasuke x reader #pregnancy #birth

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needleandhammer · 4 years ago

Text

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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writersrealmbts · 3 years ago

Text

Clearwater Springs: Part 9

SDescription: ot7 x reader, reader’s choice, fairy/supernatural/soulmate au. The choices you make influence the story! In this world, war-torn and ragged, you’ve been offered a home and a job working as a librarian. Will you meet your soulmates? Will you ever find the shelves behind the piles of books? Who knows.

Warnings: idk

Posted: 08/18/2021

Tags: ot7 x reader, supernatural bts, soulmate au

3,463 words

A/N: Okay! Remember, two free-write and one survey chapter, which means the next survey chapter will be chapter 11 (technically they all are at this point), which means that the survey at the bottom of this post will be on part 10 as well. Sorry for the wait.

Previous ~ Next

You were in a warm cocoon, and you weren’t about to disturb it.

Yoongi was in cat form again, stretched out against your back, purring now and then in his sleep.

Namjoon was snoring, but you didn’t care because he was warm and his heartbeat was strong, and he was well-built. Strong enough to make you feel safe, soft enough to keep you comfortable. He was your haltija.

You lay in a comfortable doze for a while, smiling when Yoongi moved so you could pet him and he fell asleep again.

But then someone was sneaking in and over, fluttering above the ground and peering at you.

You yawned a bit, then turned to reach out both hands to him.

Jimin smiled and took your hands, gently pulling you from between the other two and into the air.

You grinned as he set you down on the floor by the bed, admiring his wings. His feathers looked shinier already, and the colors of his feathers seemed more vibrant. Happiness made such a difference in fairies.

Jimin tugged your hand gently, pulling you out of the room and down to Jin’s room.

The door swung open silently, revealing the most adorable sight of Jin and Jungkook cuddling. Jungkook’s arms wrapped around Jin, and head on Jin’s shoulder but still tucked close to Jin’s neck. Both of them looked so peaceful.

Jimin shared your smile, then tugged your hand again as he carefully closed the door.

Taehyung was being bearhugged from behind by Hoseok, drowsily watching some cartoon show that had the volume down as low as possible without muting it.

Hoseok murmured now and then, and pressed airy little kisses just barely into Taehyung’s hair--probably completely unfelt by the dryad. But he glanced over and smiled contentedly at you before whispering something that got a sleepy smile out of his companion.

You tugged on Jimin’s hand this time, drawing him into the kitchen. “Help me make them breakfast?”

He nodded.

You weren’t an exceptional cook, but you could make basic foods, and the boys didn’t seem to mind basic foods. “Did you sleep well, ma mignonne?”

He nodded emphatically. “Yesterday was tiring.”

Yoongi stalked in, scowling tiredly at you. “You left.”

“Sorry, mon chat minou,” You apologized, leaning over to peck his lips.

His eyes widened.

Jimin huffed, latching onto you again.

You leaned back into his arms and tilted your head back for a kiss.

He hesitated, but did kiss you—softly. As though you were a bubble that would pop at any moment. His lips soft against yours.

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips, keenly away of two more sets of eyes on the three of you.

Hoseok, probably already knowing the outcome, came over and claimed his kiss. “Morning, aluemdaun.”

You hummed happily at his casual compliment, curling your fingers around the neckline of his shirt. “Darling.”

Taehyung’s eyes were wide, and he slowly came forward.

You watched him with a soft smile. “Good morning, Taehyung. Did you sleep well?”

Taehyung nodded slowly.

You kissed his cheek, brushing over the spot where you kissed him with your thumb as you looked over his face. “Good.”

“So...does everyone know...about….” He gestured vaguely to your arm.

You nodded, smiling a little more. “Everyone knows. You can ask them anything about being soulmates that you want. You can touch them, hug them, kiss them, and they’ll have no room to complain because they’re stuck with all of us for the rest of our lives—provided all goes well.”

Taehyung started to get hints of excitement in his eyes. “Hugs?”

“As many as you like. Jimin gives especially good hugs.” You nodded toward the fairy, who was still cooking under your instructions.

Yoongi took Taehyung’s hand. “After we’re out of their way so they can make breakfast.”

Taehyung didn’t seem to accept that, turning and hugging onto Yoongi despite the werecat’s protests—loud as they were.

But Yoongi waddled himself and Taehyung out of the kitchen, and out of your way. And Taehyung forced his hugs on the werecat without avail.

You returned to your fairy, directing his actions with little gestures, happy when the food turned out well—just as Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook joined everyone downstairs.

Jimin greeted them with a chirpy ‘Good Morning!’ while ushering them to the table. “We just finished making breakfast!”

Jungkook looked like he was still half-asleep, movements languid as Jin helped him to a spot at the table.

Yoongi was still trapped by Taehyung. “Stop it. Stop it. Let’s not do this. Stop it.”

Taehyung ignored him, nuzzling the were-cat’s neck until suddenly the were-cat shifted and escaped. Then he pouted, looking hurt and sullen.

Jin chuckled sleepily. “Come here, Taehyungie, we’ll catch him later for you to cuddle. Sit next to hyungie to eat.”

Hoseok easily claimed the seat on the other side of Taehyung. “Yoongi-hyung was probably just hungry, Taehyung. He’s not very forthright, but—” he dropped his glass, eyes glazed and far away. He frowned, hands hovering shakily over his plate.

You glanced at Jin for a moment.

Jin got up and went around to Hoseok’s side.

Hoseok’s gaze cleared slightly, but he looked shaken. “I need my crystal ball. Need to get upstairs.”

“I’ll help you,” Jin whispered softly, helping him up. “Even breaths, Hoseokie. Keep calm.”

Hoseok nodded, leaning into Jin. “Need to look. Need to see.”

You watched them go with a little worry, but you knew Hoseok would be fine as long as Jin was with him.

Today, you had work to do.

After you had made sure that Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin had ingested an adequate amount of food—and helped Yoongi make plates for the two that were absent—you went to your room, silently asking your waters for some good working clothes.

Your waters ignored you and gave you a dress, but at least the dress wouldn’t expose your body every time you moved.

Jimin was waiting with Parsley by the front door. “You’re going to the library, right?”

You smiled and nodded. “I have work to do. Are you coming with me?”

“You can’t go alone,” He said nonchalantly. “Too dangerous. Especially with a dark mage about.”

“True. But I wouldn’t like it if you didn’t want to come with me.”

“I want to,” He answered quickly, looking a little sheepish. “I really like it there. High ceilings. I can fly even though it’s raining.”

You smiled. “Alright, then.”

You peeked into the living room, noticing that Taehyung had ‘captured’ Yoongi again and that both were watching a movie with Jungkook and Namjoon. “I’m off to the library with Jimin. Be back later. Someone check on Jin and Hoseok if they don’t come down in an hour?”

“Mm’kay,” Namjoon answered distractedly, but you saw Yoongi look over at you and nod.

Rain didn’t bother you that much, it was just water after all, but Jimin seemed a little averse to it, so you made sure he had the umbrella. Not that it was much of a rainstorm, the gentle pattering drops far more soothing than harsh. Pleasant and somewhat warm.

There was a truck sitting in front of the library, and Valina was under the overhang of the doors, glaring at another person.

Jimin gently touched your shoulder and took off to watch from a distance, a distance from which he could easily intervene if he needed.

You carried the closed umbrella up to those waiting, wondering what was going on. “Hello Valina, how may I assist you?”

She glanced at you, eyes widening slightly, panicked a little.

“Ah! You must be the librarian, I am Grendel,” The dark mage said, turning toward you and bowing.

You froze, but tried not to display your panic. “A pleasure, I’m sure.”

“Yes, well, you see, as well as conducting my own business, I was asked to convey this load of books to this…charming town’s library.” He eyed you. “I had not realized that this library was run by a xana.”

“I had not realized my species could be of any interest to any being other than my own kind,” You answered evenly. “There is a room around the side of the building for after-hours book deliveries and donations, and the sign is right there, as well. I believe that lettering is large enough for any to read.”

“Ah, but I have…certain donations that need special care, and I wished to convey the instructions in person—as I was telling this…fiery, young woman.”

“That’s witch to you! And I told you I could have given her the instructions.” Valina crossed her arms.

“And I told you, there are certain things that only a librarian can understand. This place has special vaults for…dangerous tomes, does it not?” He turned to you.

“We would have to ask the owner of the library,” You answered vaguely. “I have not been informed of any. If you would be so kind as to deliver the rest to the side room, I will call the owner and have him come and talk with you.”

“I was specifically instructed—”

“I understand,” You cut him off. “However, I have no answers as to security for dangerous tomes, and for that, the owner is required. Once he has answers in regards to the safety of such tomes, then we may further discuss the tomes staying here. Until then, please patiently wait in the delivery room around the side of the building. I shall not ask again.”

“But—”

“You have about five seconds before I start singing: can you bare it, mage?” You asked, eyes narrowing in a challenge.

His mouth clamped shut and he bowed stiffly. “As you have asked, so shall I do.”

You nodded firmly and moved to the front doors, waiting until he was pulling the truck to the side of the building before unlocking the front doors and ushering Valina inside.

“Are you crazy? He’s a dark mage!” She hissed the moment the door closed.

“I am…very…aware…of…that…,” You said in between trying not to hyperventilate in the ensuing panic.

Jimin landed and quickly wrapped his arms and wings around you, forcing Valina to back up. “You’re crazy. You’re absolutely crazy.”

You just hugged him back with all of your might. “Need to call Jin.”

“I’ll do that,” Valina said, regarding you and Jimin and just a tiny bit disconcerted.

“It’s a trick, right? He’s just trying to get to you, right?” Jimin asked, sounding panicked.

Parsley twined around your feet, mewling.

“Where’s his pheonix?” You whispered.

You saw Valina look up sharply.

Jimin let go of you and shrunk, darting off to look.

You went to the desk slowly, sitting down and beginning your work. “He stop at your shop first?”

“Not exactly. Had a feeling.” Valina leaned against the counter, frowning. “A faun pointed him out to me, and my brain worked from there. My coven will ward the town. We’ve already been setting up protection wards on people’s houses, so most people should be safe at night. Except your house. But you have a haltija.”

“And a were-cat, and a djinn, dryad, seer, incubus-fairy mix, and a human that I swear has magic in his blood.”

“Mr. Kim definitely has magic in his blood,” Valina said, eyes flashing pink. “Ancient magic, but it is there. His family tree is made of touched and clearsighted.”

“Touched and clearsighted?” You asked.

“Touched people have a sort of intuition, they get a sense for things quickly—especially in regards to the magical. They tend to become fighters, people who protect others from…less-savory magic. Clearsighted folk can see through all magical protection that would confuse other humans. Why do you think he didn’t become a slobbering fool upon seeing you? Yes, he sees you’re hot as hell, but, because he has clearsight, he is able to resist that pull and instead focus on you as a person. Me? I have special charms to resist folk like yourself and stay a decent witch.” She looked you over and quickly looked away. “Though, I think it’s about time I recharge them.”

“I appreciate the effort,” You murmured, thinking about Jin and grateful for the distraction that she had been trying to give you. “There’s still so much I don’t know about the world and about people. I only knew my people.”

“Might help if you came into town more often.”

You looked at her quietly until she met your gaze with a little regret.

“Nevermind, that would be mass chaos and not pleasant for you. Forget I mentioned town. Let me ward it for your protection first.”

“Don’t go to any extra trouble on my account.”

“I won’t. My coven planned on putting up warding to protect from…unwanted behaviors.”

“You’re the police of the town, aren’t you?”

Valina grinned. “Yup! But don’t worry, we have people we answer to as well. Now, if we could get real town status, then we’d probably elect Mr. Kim as mayor—”

“Never gonna happen,” Jin said firmly, walking quickly over to you. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, standing up. “I sent him around the side to the drop-off area and Jimin is looking for the Pheonix, but he’s been gone since Valina called you.”

Yoongi shifted and ran out to see if he could track down the fairy.

Hoseok was looking a little…out of breath.

Jungkook seemed to be visually assessing you.

Namjoon was talking to the doorway.

Taehyung was looking around, awestruck. “Hyung…this place is so beautiful….”

Jin kissed your forehead and then glanced at Valina. “Got any extra protection charms?”

She patted her pockets demonstratively. “I was in a bit of a rush, toots. Apologies. Take the Djinn with you, he can use magic to protect you and it’s stronger than even a dark mage’s. He can protect you if he wishes.”

Hoseok gripped Jungkook’s arm. “No.”

Jungkook looked both surprised and hurt. “I can do it, hyung.”

“No, it has to be…” Hoseok looked desperately at him, then at you. “It has to be you. I…can’t tell you why…but I know….”

You could tell it was killing him to say it, tearing him up inside. “Okay. If you say it must be so, then it must be. Jungkook could protect us from here, correct?”

Hoseok considered for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Okay, now please sit down. You look so pale,” You pleaded softly, gently, touching his arm.

He relaxed a bit and pliantly let you guide him to your chair.

“Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon; please look out for Hoseok, I have a feeling he’s going to be having a rough day,” You asked, picking up Parsley and setting her in Hoseok’s lap. “Pet the kitty.”

Hoseok let out a small breath of an amused laugh, then did as told.

Then you and Seokjin went outside to meet the dark mage.

Grendel was waiting, looking patient, casually unloading boxes from the truck, but he quickly set aside the box he was carrying as he noticed your approach.

“This is Mr. Kim, the owner of the library. Mr. Grendel had inquiries about secure vaults for…dangerous tomes.”

Jin nodded. “I am only allowed by the government to approve of certain types of tomes. What is the nature of the tomes?” He pulled out some paperwork.

“One is a necromancers guide made with dragon leather,” Grendel said, looking worried.

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you.

Grendel nodded. “Dark magic that must be locked away and never let out again. And that one…that one should remain off-record if possible.”

Jin was quiet, partially frozen. “Where is that one?”

“Still on the truck. I didn’t want to unload it if it couldn’t stay here.”

Jin nodded slowly. “I know a place where it can go. I’m assuming you don’t want to know it’s final location either.”

“That would be correct.”

“Okay. And the other tomes?”

“A Demon Book, a Crimson portfolio, and the notebook of…Fausto Vilareyo,” Grendel finished, not meeting your gaze.

Your heart seemed to stop.

Jin was looking to you. “Fausto Vilareyo?”

“The first dark mage,” You answered, trembling.

Jin nodded slowly. “All of these fall within what I am able to take in. I will care for the notebook and the necromancer’s guide.”

You nodded. “I….”

“Can you go get me some notecards?” Jin asked, providing you with a brief escape. “And a pen?”

You nodded, turning and fleeing the presence of such an evil book.

The others startled when you hurried in.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asked, pausing in his task of what appeared to be drying Jimin’s wings.

“Yes. Did you find the pheonix?”

“No,” Jimin said, drooping. “No sign of it.”

“That’s fine,” You said hastily, grabbing some things for yourself.

“Slow down,” Valina advised, “before you drop everything you’re trying to pick up.”

You just nodded and raced out again, pausing before the corner and composing yourself.

Grendel conveyed the instructions for the last two books, then bowed. “I thank you for guarding these relics. It has been a long journey to find a safe resting place for them.”

You dipped your head very slightly. “War makes many things difficult, though they be difficult to begin with.”

“Very true. I must be off. Many more false trails to lay,” Grendel said, bowing once more. He hesitated in leaving, though. “I know it may not mean much, but I apologize for the wrongs that have been committed toward your kind. I had never seen one of your kind in person before now and I regret not knowing. I do what I must, though, and for that I know I would never be able to listen to your songs. Thank you for your benevolence toward me, even knowing I am of the kind that is dangerous toward yourself.”

“If you continue to remove dangerous things from those who would abuse them, then I wish you luck,” You said, meaning it. Not just anyone would turn over what they had found to be locked away. And while his dark magic was fresh and potent, perhaps it was because he needed it to get those items. “May I ask, what were you doing in the forest?”

He blinked in surprise. “The forest? Oh…I…I’d actually heard that the forest was quite nice and I have this stupid pheonix that’s bound to me and he goes and gets into all sorts of trouble if I don’t properly exercise him.” He looked around. “Thinking of…you haven’t happened to see a pheonix?”

You shook your head rapidly.

Jin shook his head as well.

He sighed. “He probably went after the dragon magic, the stupid fledgling. Well. Either he gets eaten or he learns a lesson. Thank you for your time.” He bowed again and hopped into the truck.

“Dragon?” Jin asked, eyes wide.

“The river dragon, probably,” You offered.

Jin looked at you like you’d grown a second hand.

“Jungkook and I ran across him when we were passing the time before going to look for you. He’s my river-kin, apparently.”

Jin shook his head, showing you the vaults for the books you would care for, how to access them and such. “Of course he is.”

“Hoseok looked pale.”

“Yeah. He’s not as strong as he likes to convey.”

“Are any of us?”

Jin kissed your cheek. “Probably not.”

You ran your fingers along the mortar between the bricks. “Do you think he had an ulterior motive?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. You want to stay at the library?”

You nodded. “I have work to do. Jimin will probably stay with me.”

He nodded. “I don’t think Taehyung will leave now, either. Is that okay?”

“He’s cute. Jimin and I can keep an eye on him.”

“Okay. I’m going to take the others home, then. Make sure Hoseok gets some water, food, and rest.” Jin kissed your cheek. “Don’t speak a word to the others about what books are hidden in the vaults. Or about the books I will be hiding. It’ll be safer.”

You nodded firmly. “Agreed. It’s for their own well-being. Hoseok knows.”

He nodded. “Probably.”

Yoongi stalked up in his black and grey form—his largest form—and then paused, getting ready to leap into Jin’s arms.

Jin stroked Yoongi’s head. “Hey. We’re okay. Thanks for worrying.”

Yoongi just snorted and rested, acting like he’d intended to fall asleep in Jin’s arms.

You reached over and scratched his head, then went into the library to finally do the work that you hadn’t been able to get done in the past three days.

–

Post-Chapter 9 Survey

Previous. Next.

Masterlist. Clearwater Springs Masterpost.

–

Taglist: @kerikaaria @killcomet @letsreadbts @taestannie @dwaaaaaaaaa @missmoxxiesworld @cheese123344 @insfirebunny @crookedstarlitnight @aphot-c @chim-possible @psiphidragon @i-like-puppy-mg @daddyjoonie @softescapism @amammietje @4evahevah @slytherclawwarrior @kittylovsu @forever-once-gone @unlikelylittlemiss @mailani-annie @daydreambrliever @miss-fawn @jinternational-playboy @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @the-obsessive-fangirl @mysticalpostobject @reinaxans @writtenmemoriesau @sunnysoliculus @mailani-annie @carolinexkpop @kascreation @discombobulatedhuman @londongirl2011 @xyahrinx

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#clearwater springs fic #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts fanfic #bts ot7 #soulmate au #fairy au #magic au #bts ot7 x reader #Jimin #Jungkook #Hoseok #Seokjin #Yoongi #Namjoon #Taehyung

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minijenn · 4 years ago

Photo

SO I DREW SORA’S MOM A LOT FOR NO GOTDAMN REASON AT ALL IDK I JUST WANTED TO SHUT UP OK

So anyway some of you all might remember the design I came up with for Sora’s mom, Himari (of course I kinda had to invent both that name and her design seeing as how we’ll likely never see her in canon and if we do then I’m boutta look stupid as fuck for this but whatever). Some of you might also remember that little drabble I wrote a few weeks back bout a Keys to the Kingdom AU of a fucking AU in which Sora’s dad, Tsuki, survives Terranort’s attempt at killing him. Long story short in that AU is that Sora’s parents end up heavily involved in the events of KH1, KH2, and Keys as a result and I thought it would be cute/cool if in that AU, Himari traveled with the Trinity Trio for the events of KH2 because I’m a sap for some mother/son sweetness. We were talking about all this over on the Discord when I realized Himari would get to take part in all the cool world transformations in Keys and I was like “Welp I gotta draw the mom a ton” soooo here we are.

With that long-winded explanation out of the way, lemme run through each of these beautiful ladies! Up top we have what would be her standard adventuring outfit for KH2, then ya got a good Lion Mom carrying her incredibly embarrassed cub who swears he’s too old to be babied like that but Himari does not care in the slightest ahaha, then you got a BEAUTIFUL Mermaid Mom who is 100% here for Musical Time in Atlantica (Himari would have a LOVELY singing voice, I imagine, she’s nowhere near as unfortunately tone deaf as Sora sort of is XD), and then a cute Cartoon Mom for Timeless River!

After that, we get ourselves a Hot Witch Mom for Halloween Town, as well as a bonus doodle of her hanging with an awfully familiar looking bat... hm... wonder who that could be...? ;3, followed by an adorable Elf Mom for Christmas Town. I didn’t feel like doing a Space Paranoids design because hhhhh who cares so instead I decided to do some fun Prom Shenanigans from the Castle of Dreams chapter of Keys. Himari looks absolutely lovely, thinks her son looks soooo cute in his little suit (she’s embarrassing him again but he allows it this time ahaha) and she gets to share a nice dance or two with her dashing husband. Anyway this fuckin description is way too long, hopefully you all enjoy these INCREDIBLY self indulgent drawings I did that are so stupidly niche like why did I waste two days on this oh well it was fun and I liked it so whatever bye

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carpisuns · 3 years ago

Note

New anon, but I saw the last one and I have some thoughts. Specifically, I have been obsessing over ml for the last month or so, and I’ve only seen three episodes, and they were the three released before crocoduel. And you know what? I wasn’t that into it, it wasn’t bad it just wasn’t half as engaging as fanon and fanworks have been for me.

I’ve also done this with the Magicians, Supernatural, and a couple others. I think the reason that this works, for some people, is because it is a more familiar and in many ways, easier way to discover and become attached to new material and new characters. Fan writers and artists are coming from a place of love for their source material (no matter what issues they may have with it) and that bleeds out into their work. Time is spent developing the characters and their feelings, their relationships, in ways that canon so often can’t or isn’t allowed to, and reading that, it’s very easy to fall in love with new characters very quickly. There’s also common AUs and dynamics that make it much easier to start something new.

And also: comfort characters. So many fans find common ground with characters and further project onto them, particularly in fanfic. And because of that it’s often easier to identify with a fan’s interpretation of a character than it is to identify with the canon’s, since you have these more deeply explored feelings and relationships based on a combination of canon and the personal experiences of the fan writer. Also, with these kinds of fics it’s extremely emotionally affirming since for someone who doesn’t have much of any connection with the source material, it feels like the original, even if you’re reading a large body of work by a lot of different people. And I’m so used to fanfic as a substitute for the emotional work and character development that shows/movies/books don’t have room for or aren’t willing to get into, that approaching a fandom as it’s own original piece of media in a way, feels very comforting.

That’s my perspective on it anyways, and why I do this. I do think it is a good thing to engage with the canon to an extent, even if it’s just watching a few clips (how I found ml) but I also don’t think you need any real connection or knowledge of it to be deeply invested in the fandom. Sorry, this got very long.

you know, i totally get being on, like, the fringe of fandoms and interacting with fanon to an extent without a proper investment in canon (I have a couple fandoms like that), but i honestly just can't imagine becoming super invested in a fandom when I am not invested in the source material...maybe that's just a difference between you and me, idk.

but also, i gotta admit that i'm struggling a bit to understand the reason. you yourself pointed out that fan work is enjoyable because the creator's love for canon bleeds into it. and isn't that the reason that you would want to give canon a real chance? obviously there is fan content made out of spite lol (and sadly a fair amount in this fandom), but to me most fan content is like a love letter to canon. like, "i adore this thing so much that it inspired me to create and share with other people who adore it." and what better recommendation is there than that?? i would think people would wanna familiarize themselves with canon in order to better enjoy fanon(?)

i completely understand your point about fan content delving further into characterization and relationships where canon hasn't/can't, and that is such a big appeal of fanfic/fanart. but i don't feel like that's a reason to not engage with canon? on the contrary, i feel like you are missing something important in your understanding and appreciation of that wonderful exploration if you haven't experienced firsthand the foundation that canon set. and maybe that missing thing is just your personal interpretation of a character/dynamic.

for example, i could say, "adrien agreste is this, this, and this and he would do this but not this." and of course i will think im right because my characterization is always perfect 😌sakjdfaldjks but someone else might have a slightly different interpretation, and someone else will have another interpretation, and when you mush all those individual takes on a character together, you will get a good sense of who they are, but you still don't have the Original™️ to draw your own interpretation from. idk, to me it sounds like basing your opinion of chocolate ice cream on what other people are saying about it without ever trying it yourself? ajsldakljf maybe that's an oversimplification but i do think that without experiencing it for yourself, your understanding will always be kind of incomplete.

idk, i big agree with everything you said about why fan content is special, but everything that is a point in fanon's favor is not a knock on canon. to me fan content feels pretty inseparable from canon, so it just doesn't compute to me to take canon out of the equation? then we would have nothing.

i feel like it's almost kinda trendy nowadays to be like, "oh this show actually sucks lmao but the fanon and AUs are good." like it's shameful to actually...enjoy source material? 😭 i mean i completely understand that miraculous ladybug is not gonna be everyone's cup of tea and that's fine! but if you truly enjoy the fan content that much i encourage you to give canon a real shot. it's not that surprising to me that you watched 3 recent episodes and didn't vibe that much, since you haven't seen the 3 seasons of buildup that lead to them. miraculous has a neat way of tying a bunch of things together so if you aren't familiar with all of it, you're probably missing out.

personally my love for miraculous was kind of a slowburn at first. i only started watching the show because my sister and i made a deal that forced me to watch the first few eps lol. and i didn't really vibe either. but there must have been enough of a spark there for me to keep watching bc for some reason i did and the more i watched the more i fell in love with it until it became the thing that occupies my brain more than anything else. i started with canon and then got into fanon, but it could easily go the other way too. and if you're already invested in the story and characters, i have to imagine it would be much easier to push past the initial cringe of "this is a show about a couple of teen furries rated TV-Y7 on netflix" lol and give anything you don't vibe with the benefit of the doubt.

again, to be clear, i'm not trying to judge or gatekeep here! i'm just saying this because i genuinely LOVE miraculous. it's my favorite show. that's why i make things for it. that's why i have this blog. i want people to watch it. so maybe, pwetty pwease, try watching the show you like so much? 🥺👉👈

(source bc i was too lazy to make my own so i stole this from twitter)

#anon #ask #fandom #long post

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soulmate-game · 4 years ago

Text

Finally another oneshot, after forever and a day. I’m weak for soulmate AUs. I think most of you know that already.

SO WHY NOT ANOTHER?! WOO!

This one is based on a prompt given to me a hella long time ago, idk who sent it to me. Tell me who you are so I can credit you! I wrote down the prompt for me to remember, it’s something like; “You can write letters to your soulmate, and they travel through time either to a moment your soulmate needs the letter most or to a random point in time to them.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Dear Myself.

I’m doing this for school. We have to write letters to our future self. I am nine years old right now, the year is 2009. I hope you found a cool job! I don’t know what to do yet. I like drawing though! Science is icky, so I hope you’re not a scientist. But if you are, and if it makes us happy, then I guess it’s okay. Be the best scientist you can! If you are all moved out, did you ever get a pet hamster? Hamsters are so cute!

Oh, but most important. Yesterday, I was bullied by my Arch Enemy. You know who. Yeah. Anyway, she said some mean things and it just reminded me that sometimes life hurts, and people can hurt you real bad. But life is still pretty. A family of robins made a nest on my terrace outside my room, and I saw them after I was done crying. They are so cute, and made me happy again. So, always look for your family of robins to keep you happy, I guess. Life isn’t bad, even if some things and people are. I hope you remember that. Keep believing in yourself, and in others!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past).

Do not open this letter before 2020! Pretty please!

Shaking hands held the letter. It was written two years ago, but he only could have gotten it now. It just appeared on his desk out of nowhere. At first, he thought it was some sick joke. He had just moved to Gotham again, and none of his—

None of them knew he was back. But he recognized this handwriting. He had gotten exactly one letter from them before, written by an older version of this woman and received by him when he was ten. Not long after being taken in by Bruce Wayne. The letter back then had been short, precise. Comforting.

Hello there.

I am writing this in the year 2018. You see, I found out quite a while ago that my soulmate bond is unique. It sends letters to you that I write, from all across time. I can get your letters, too, so don’t hesitate to write to me if you need to vent. My letters might not always reach you in time to feel like a normal response, but I’ll keep writing if you do. I know your life isn’t easy, if the letters I’ve already gotten mean anything. But keep fighting. I know what it’s like to be the underdog. But I’m rooting for you.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, New Adult.

Jason’s hands crumpled the two pieces of paper in them, the older of the two already close to crumbling away. They had buried him with it, resurrected him with it. It had seen hell and back just like him, but he still kept it. Even with blurring ink and ripped edges and blood stains. The writing and names matched, even if his newer letter was written in the clumsy scrawl of a child. The nuances in the handwriting were still the same.

She would still be writing to him. This new letter he got was clearly the first, before she knew about her soulmate or how her letters would disappear after she wrote them just like his did. But 2009? It just sank into him, that she was younger than he was. By seven years.

But her words still kept him afloat better than any lecture from that asshole Bruce.

He couldn’t see her yet. Not any time soon, really. He was already eighteen, dead and resurrected, and she was barely eleven. He could wait.

She didn’t need somebody as screwed and dark as him right now, anyway. A murderer, a budding crime boss. If she needed someone killed for her, or someone to save her, he’d be there. Otherwise?

Jason took out the receipt from his last visit to a gas station for cigarettes, grabbed a sharpie from his desk, and began to write.

Yo, Mari.

I’m writing this in 2011. I got your first letter. Thanks. It reminded me of some good times. I’m sorry I didn’t write anything for five years. Stuff happened. I won’t write often. Not until I’m in a better place. But if you need it, you can vent to me too. Also, don’t look at the back of this receipt. This was the only paper I could find.

Jason T., Your Soulmate.

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette, nine years old, stared down at the receipt that had taken the place of her letter to herself. She recognized that it was written in English, but she couldn’t read it yet. But that was okay, her Papan and Maman could read English!

She ran down, holding it in her hands tightly. She didn’t want the mystery letter to disappear! She handed it to her parents, who were in the middle of making croissants and stared at her for a moment. And then they broke into a flurry of movement.

“Why do you have a receipt for cigarettes, Marinette?!” Sabine yelled, confused more than angry. How would her daughter get a receipt written in English? And after giving her parents a confused head tilt, Marinette explained.

“It just appeared, like, poof!” She moved her hands to illustrate her point. “I was writing my letter to my future self for school, which is gone now oh no! Mlle. is going to be so mad!”

“Mari, focus,” Tom prodded gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You were writing your letter, and then what?”

Marinette took a deep breath. “Well, I finished it and put it in a little envelope. But as soon as I put it down and was all done, it shimmered red and faded away! This showed up in the same place my letter had been, like they were traded!”

Tom and Sabine shared a glance, and her mom held out her hand. “Can I read it, Marinette? I promise I won’t take it away. Your father and I just want to see what it says. We’ll read it to you.”

Marinette nodded eagerly, and after making sure their dough was put away the family of bakers moved to their living room and the little girl sat on her father’s lap as her mother held the note for them to see and read it aloud.

The parents shared another glance.

“Wow!” Marinette exclaimed happily, bouncing in place. “He sounds so cool! He is my soulmate? Really? I wonder what he looks like!” Her eyes took on a dreamy quality as she began to daydream. “I bet he’s super handsome! And nice and strong and—“

“Mari,” Tom said gently, tugging one pigtail playfully to get his daughter’s attention. She turned her large blue eyes to him, rapt with attentiveness. “I know this is exciting, but you know that not all soulmates are romantic, right?”

Marinette instantly calmed down, eyebrows pinching together. “But— but Nino said that soulmates are people you will marry in the future. Your perfect person. Like you and Maman,” she argued, incredibly confused. Her Maman chuckled, handing Marinette her receipt-letter back.

“Yes, but sometimes a person doesn’t need romance the most. Sometimes, what a person needs most is a friend or another family member. So sometimes, a soulmate is a big sister or brother instead, or another Maman or Papan. And we think that your soulmate might be the big brother kind,” she explained patiently. Marinette’s confusion instantly changed to excitement again, eyes sparkling with starry amazement.

“Really? How can you tell?”

“Well,” Tom took over, tapping the receipt with one finger. This receipt is from America. Over there, you have to be eighteen to buy cigarettes. Which means that, two years from now, your soulmate is already eighteen.”

“Or he better be, anyway,” Sabine growled, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“But even if he isn’t,” Tom nervously glanced over at his wife and back to his daughter. “The way he writes is too grown up for someone close to your age. He is probably several years older than you—“

“At least seven, if he knows what’s good for him,” Sabine interrupted again. Tom just chuckled and shook his head.

“But still. Are you okay with him not being a romantic soulmate, Nettie?”

Marinette jumped off of her dad’s lap, hugging her note to her chest with one of the biggest smiles either of her parents had ever seen on her face.

“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted a big brother! I bet he’s so cool, and rides a motorcycle and beats up bad guys! And when we meet, we’ll go out for ice cream and he’ll ruffle my hair, and let me ride on his shoulders, and it’ll be so awesome!”

Sabine finally lost her threatening aura, laughing along with her daughter. “Well, I don’t know about the whole beating up bad guys thing. But it sounds like he might need some cheering up, so you should write him letters pretty often. You never know when he might need one the most.”

Marinette nodded seriously, eyes shining with determination now. “That’s right! I have to be the best soulmate-sister ever! I’ll start writing him another letter right now!” She instantly turned to run back up to her room, but her dad’s voice followed her:

“Marinette! You haven’t eaten dinner yet!”

—*—*—*—*—*

The next day, Jason came back to his base to see another letter. It was on special scrapbook paper, a pretty white with a heart-and-stars border. He found himself snorting despite himself, shaking his head and picking up the girly letter.

Hello, Jason!

I just got your letter! It’s still 2009, and my parents were worried about the cigarats. I wanted to learn English first, but Maman and Papan reminded me that you have to be able to read French if you were able to read my past letters (I wonder what I wrote you! My future self must be real smart). Maman says you better be 18, or else she’ll kick your butt. She didn’t say that exactly, but I could tell.

Jason snickered at that. She must have a pretty fun family.

Maman and Papan also said that you’re probably a Big Brother soulmate. That’s super cool! I’ve always wanted an older brother, but it’s just me. I get lonely sometimes. And Maman thinks I have a big imagination, so help me prove her wrong! I bet her that you’re suuuuuuper cool, and have a motorcycle and beat up criminals! She doesn’t think my soulmate would be a hero, but I think you are. I don’t even know you yet, but I just feel it. And even if you don’t beat up bad guys, that’s fine. You’ll still protect me like a big brother should, right? And we’ll go and eat ice cream and talk about the stuff we like when we finally meet. And I’ll protect you too. I know little sisters aren’t supposed to, but I will totally protect you anyway. If you’re sad, I’ll make you macaroons and read you a bedtime story. That always makes me happy.

Please write back soon!

Marinette Dupain-Cheng (from the past still!)

Jason couldn’t help it, and maybe the Lazarus magic had a bit of sway on him still, but he laughed raucously. A deep, belly-shaking bellow. His soulmate sure was a character! And scarily intuitive. How did she guess such accurate things about him? It was hilarious.

But he wouldn’t write back today. Not yet. He held no illusions; he wasn’t brother material. Not now, and probably not for a while if ever. Which reminded him, he had a replacement to kill.

—*—*—*—*—*

The Replacement lived, but at least Batman had gotten the message. Meanwhile, letters from Little Mari, as he had started calling her in his head, had started piling up. He read every single one, but didn’t respond to any. It was all the usual stuff. Talking about her day, asking stuff about him, spouting advice that seemed way too insightful for a nine-year-old.

He kept every single one. Soon, 2009 letters turned into 2010 letters. She switched from writing almost every day to once a week.

By then, Jason had reconciled with Bruce for the most part. After a few attempts on his life, but that wasn’t important. It was then, as he sat down in the living room watching Tim, Dick, Bruce, and the newest hellion Damian, all talking with and teasing one another that he finally got the urge to write again. So he asked for paper, and Alfred brought him a notepad and a plain ballpoint pen. And, for the first time in over a year, he started writing.

Dick and Bruce noticed first, stopping their banter to stare. Dick smiled softly, his shoulders relaxing as he let himself slump over the sofa’s arm a bit. Tim furrowed his eyebrows, and Damian frowned.

“What are you doing, Todd?” The young hellion asked, but Jason barely heard him.

“Nonya business, squirt,” he replied absently. Bruce chuckled fondly, beckoning to his two youngest sons. They both came a bit closer, and Bruce smiled at them conspiratorially. He leaned forward and whispered:

“Jason’s soulbond allows any letters that he writes to travel through time to his Bonded, and vice versa. Back before… everything, he used to write a letter to her almost every day.”

“It’s really sweet. We lined up the dates, and we think that she’s around your age Damian,” Dick added in equally softly. “Probably a familial bond. It’s good that he’s writing to her again.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette was twelve the next time she got a letter from Jason. But, unlike the last one, this one came from the past. And it was written in French.

Hi, Marinette!

I guess I’m your soulmate. I got your letter from 2018. It’s 2005 when I’m writing this. I’m twelve years old right now, but that shouldn’t matter. It was a little surprising when I got a letter written in French out of nowhere! Luckily, I speak a lot of languages. I love learning languages, and reading is probably my favorite thing to do. Don’t tell anyone though! I have my bad-boy image to keep up. I think our soulbond is really cool actually, and maybe we can teach each other stuff if we do this right. I know the whole time-traveling-letters thing makes it hard to reply to each other like normal. From now on, I’ll write you these letters in English and translate them in French on the back. That way, you can read it whenever you want and also learn English if you don’t already know it when you get this letter.

Oh, and I think I’m older than you? In real time, I mean. If you’re a “new adult” in 2018, then you’re probably a few years younger than me. I was born in 1993. You can do the math, since I don’t know when you were born. Anyway! I’ll keep writing you as often as I can and hope that you get these letters when you need them most.

Jason T., Excited Tween.

Marinette laughed, running down to show her mom. She was only writing Jason once a month now, but in the midst of this first letter she had received in three years, her determination was relit. It was just the letters being dumb when they flew through time! No way he was done writing to her. Right?

“Maman! Maman, he really was eighteen when he wrote that first letter! You don’t have to kill him!”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette stared at the pile of letters on her desk, sighing. She ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to read them yet, but she knew they were each dated from 2005. Apparently they had both decided to write daily when they had first discovered their Bond.

“Marinette,” the familiar voice of Tikki spoke you, the little Kwami floating over to land on her holder’s shoulder. “You should read them. Your bond wouldn’t give you letters you don’t need.”

Marinette took a deep breath, rubbing her already sore and red eyes. “I know. But what if—“

Tikki grabbed the letter at the bottom of the pile, flying over and handing it to the pigtailed girl. She smiled gently. “Read it. No what-ifs. Just read for now, Marinette.”

The newest Ladybug sighed, but acquiesced. She sat down at her desk, and began to read. Only two months as Ladybug, and already the pressure was becoming too much.

Two hours later, she had caught up and her mood was considerably better. Jason’s life was definitely no cake walk, but his humor bled through the more concerning details and helped bring light to Marinette’s day. Slowly, one by one, she folded the letters and put them in her special locked box inside her “diary”. She tried to keep a real diary once, but quickly stopped when she realized that even “dear diary” counted as a letter and sent itself to Jason.

She pulled out one of her special pieces of stationary paper and her favorite pink gel pen. For a while she stared at the paper, out of practice after a few months of not writing to him, but eventually she was able to begin again.

Hey Jason.

It’s 2013. I’m 13. I’m pretty sure you got the point by now, it’s not hard to figure out what year I was born. I haven’t responded to any of your letters in a while, but I guess that doesn’t matter. It’s not like I know if you’re gonna get this right away anyway.

So. Uh. Things have changed. I’m only thirteen, but I feel so old you know? On the bright side, your letters really did help me learn English. I mean, you probably guessed that since I’m writing this whole thing in English.

I guess I should explain. A little. A lot has happened. I suddenly have so many responsibilities, and it’s really hard to keep up with it all. So much has changed in just a few months, I feel like I’m going crazy. I’m keeping secrets from Maman and Papan now, which hurts the most. I can’t tell them, I can’t even tell you, but I’m not used to this. I don’t like lying. I don’t even know why any of this happened in the first place, I want answers and I’m getting radio silence. It sucks. But your letters from 2005 really helped, so thanks. I just got them this past year, which is really weird because I remember that our letters time travel and I feel crazy again. But this is real. Our Bond is real, and maybe writing you will help me remember that. Help me focus a bit.

Anyway, that’s all I can think of right now. I’ll try to write you again sometime this week if I have time. We’ll see.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Unsure Teenager.

—*—*—*—*—*

As soon as Jason finished his letter, pretending he couldn’t feel Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian all spying on him from their own spots around the living room, the papers he wrote on shimmered red and vanished. In their place, a piece of tea-colored scrapbook paper with a decorative robin-and-egg border (he would never know how she could be so obliviously on point with the designs she chose), popped into existence. He blinked, snatching it up and looking it over. His eyes widened.

“It’s only from next year,” he said aloud, for the benefit of the nosy assholes sharing the room with him. “That’s the closest any of our letters have been to one another,” and then Jason’s eyes promptly went serious as she actually read what the paper said.

“Jay?” Dick asked after the man had been silent too long. Jason grunted, his eyes briefly shimmering green before he shook it away. He took a few deep breaths, and finally responded by standing up and handing the paper over to them.

“Something happens next year that fucks with her. All of the letters I’ve gotten from her, besides that first one back when I was still Robin, were from before this. 2009 to 2010. I even got a few from last year, not that long ago. She’s always upbeat and happy and never said anything about any concerning things besides some schoolyard bullying. This isn’t at all like her. The tone is off.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve actually met her yet Jason,” Tim tried to console him, rereading the paper to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “This could be something mundane. A new school, or an issue with friends or something.”

Jason grit his teeth. “It isn’t. I don’t know how I know, but my gut is telling me it’s more than that. B, I want us to keep an eye on Paris. Something big happens next year, I know it.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Funnily enough, I agree with you. Alfred, can you get up a monitoring system? we’ll keep it automatic until next year actually hits, and then I want someone personally checking up on Paris news at least once a month. Just in case.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was a year into HawkMoth. Marinette hadn’t written a single letter to Jason, but she kept getting the ones he wrote in 2005. When those ran out, she only had two from 2006 before they suddenly leapt to 2012. She guessed that that was because of the five year gap he had mentioned in his first letter, the infamous cigarette receipt.

She sat in her chair, reading the only two 2012 letters so far, the second of which had conveniently landed on her desk that morning. The first had arrived months ago, but she gave it a reread anyway.

yo, Mari.

I’m sorry I haven't written anything else after that horrible receipt, I was getting my life sorted out. things are better now. I have three annoying brothers, by the way. I told you about Dick, I think, in my early letters. Now I have two younger brothers too, Tim and Damian. Damian is a little shit, but oddly enough I think you’d like him. Oh yeah, I’m writing this in 2012 by the way. And yes, this small notepad paper was all I had. Don��t judge me. I guess I’ll answer some questions, to make up for my lack of letters lately. More up to date than what I told you back when I was a naive little kid anyway.

Yes, I have a motorcycle. It is my baby, and I have no idea how nine-year-old you was able to guess stuff about me so accurately. I am most definitely a bad boy, and I have five different leather jackets that I love to death. I’m trying to quit smoking. It’s bad for your lungs kid, don’t follow my example there. Also, I am so fucking proud of your taste in music. I know I had no sway in it, but the fact that Jagged Stone is your favorite musician instills so much older brother pride in me you don’t even know. My dad (You remember how I said I’m adopted, right? yeah that asshole. Don’t tell him I actually love him, but he’s still an asshole), he grew up with Jagged actually. He still refers to him as Jared, it’s surreal. I will definitely let you ride on my shoulders, even if you’re an adult when we meet. I give no shits. And ice cream is mandatory. Officially. I’m making it mandatory right now.

I hope you’re doing okay when this gets to you, Mari. And keep designing, the sketches you sent me were awesome! That’s some real talent. Don’t let it go to waste if it’s something you love.

Alright, the Doofuses are still staring at me so I better go before one of them snoops and sees the sappy stuff I wrote about them. You are sworn to secrecy about it too, Cupcake. No blabbing.

Jason Todd, Finally Kinda Okay.

Marinette chuckled at that, then put it aside to read the new one from that morning. It was shorter.

Marinette!

I just read your letter from 2013, holy shit let this reach you not long after that. You remember that 2012 letter where I was sappy about my family and shit? I hope you got that one first or else this is gonna be confusing. Anyway, this was written that same day. Are You Okay? If shit gets too bad, for whatever reason, you can always contact me. I know this damn letter thing won’t let me give you a specific way to contact me, not for lack of trying damn it, but I’ll say this: Bruce Wayne isn’t hard to get a hold of. Find a way to contact him if you need my help, and I will be close behind. He knows how to contact me. No matter what, Cupcake. I don’t care if you think you’re being stupid or dramatic or whatever lies run through your head. Contact him if you need it, and I will come to help you. I promise. Being thirteen sucks, trust me I know, so let me help you.

Jason Todd, Worried As Hell.

Marinette huffed, shaking her head. She wanted to take him up on that offer, but she couldn’t. She had just met the Guardian not too long ago, and he had made it clear that she couldn’t tell anybody about being Ladybug. Not even Jason. She needed to deal with this alone.

Scenes of bloated bodies filled her mind, all the people who had died just the previous day because of Siren. She had had to swim through so many corpses. So many dead, of all ages.

She rushed out onto her balcony, taking in deep breaths of fresh air and letting the sun’s rays warm her up and slowly bring her out of the haze of burning memory. She was fourteen already. She could handle this. Her childhood had died the moment she had been given the Earrings, ripped away from her too early. Her old self had died. Now she was Ladybug, she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she was responsible for the fate of even more than just Paris. She couldn’t let herself fall. Not now, not ever.

The loud roaring of a motorcycle made her jump, and she ran to her railing just in time to see a gorgeous black and red bike come to a tire-screeching halt on the street right under her. The biker, she could tell he was large and covered head to toe in corded muscle even from her spot high above his head, slowly took off his helmet. Black hair with stark white bangs came into view, and startlingly deep blue eyes met hers. Marinette’s breath hitched; it was him. She could tell, his mere eye contact made her feel safe and warm and like… like home had found her. He gave her a roguish grin.

“Come on, Cupcake! I believe I promised you a shoulder ride and ice cream. And you gotta keep me from beating a certain old man into a bloody pulp!”

He knew. Marinette smiled widely, a laugh tearing itself from her throat. Hysteric, overjoyed, free. He knew, and it was okay. She didn’t even have to tell him. She took a few steps back, and then vaulted straight over her railing.

“Catch!”

Jason threw his helmet to the side, running forward just in time for her to land safely in his arms. He glared down at her, but his eyes held no heat. “That was incredibly reckless. I shouldn't be proud, but I am. Don’t do that ever again.”

Marinette giggled. “No promises.”

Jason set her down, picking up his helmet before opening the storage on his bike and tossing her a smaller, pink one. “Sorry it took so long. I wanted to come last year, as soon as I figured out what had made you send that concerning letter, but I was told that I would be an instant Akuma. But after what happened yesterday…” Jason shook his head solemnly. “I knew you’d need a break. Come on, Gotham actually has some amazing ice cream.”

“How are we gonna get to Gotham right away? how did you..?”

Marinette paused, Jason keeping his motorcycle’s storage open just long enough for her to see his Red Hood helmet.

“We got portals for that,” he responded nonchalantly, nobody was nearby to overhear anyway. Marinette looked up when he closed the storage compartment, putting her helmet on.

“Well. Then I’m glad you actually took my rant on the Gotham vigilantes to heart and used my designs, because your old mask was disgustingly ugly.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and waited until she was behind him on the bike before revving it and replying;

“Trust me, I know your feelings on it. Demon Spawn and Replacement teamed up to steal that letter and made copies. Now one is pinned to the fridge and I spent another several hours cleaning up the ones they posted over every inch of my apartment walls.”

“... I approve.”

#ml x dc #maribat #marinette #jasonette #platonic jasonette #mlb x dc #marinette dupain cheng #soulmate au #oneshot #Maribat 2020

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