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minxmut-cafe · 11 days ago

Text

HEXED HEARTS | part 1.

Pairing : Slytherin Jimin x Huffle puff Reader

Word count : 18k words

Authors note : I AM BACK!!! Ik it's been a LONG time since I posted LMAO but my exams are going on and I really need to focus lol. This had been in my requests for a long time lol. Also I haven't really watched Harry potter. So my apologies if there's something inaccurate in it. But I hope you enjoy it. ALSO this was originally supposed to be one part but it got too long T T. So it's now a 3 part story because of the word count limit.

PART 2 | PART 3

Warning : Smut, spell, mentions of poison, Sexual penetration, PWP, cunnilingus, intercourse, oral sex (F receiving), bullying, threats, enemies to lover???, masturbation, accidental voyeurism.

Synopsis :

Jimin, a cocky Slytherin, relentlessly bullies the sweet, naive little Hufflepuff. After accidentally hitting her with a charm, she becomes love-struck and overly vulnerable. Despite her efforts to hide it, her innocence makes her an easy target for his teasing and the manipulations of others, leaving her trapped in confusion and desire. In an attempt to revert her back to normal...things take an interesting turn.

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Jimin leaned against the cold stone wall of the Hufflepuff common room entrance, his usual smug grin plastered on his face as he watched the young Hufflepuff girl approach. She was just about to pass him, her arms clutching a freshly bought butterbeer from the Hogwarts kitchen, when he blocked her path with a lazy flick of his wand.

"Got something for me, love?" he teased, his voice dripping with mock sweetness as he eyed the bottle in her hands.

The girl, her name was Y/N, tried to sidestep him, but Jimin’s other hand shot out, snatching the bottle from her grip effortlessly.

"Hey!" she squeaked, her cheeks flushing a deep pink. “Give it back!”

Jimin didn’t even flinch, instead, he raised the bottle just out of her reach, savoring the discomfort he was causing. "Oh? Why should I?" he taunted, eyes glinting with a mischievous sparkle. "You’re so innocent, aren't you? Too sweet for your own good."

Y/N huffed, her breath shaky as she tried to stand her ground. She didn’t know what it was about him—how he could mock her so easily, take her things, laugh at her expense—and yet, she couldn’t ever seem to stay mad for long. There was something about him that made her heart race, even when she hated what he was doing to her.

Jimin saw the telltale flush creeping up her neck and smirked. Too easy. But then, an idea sparked in his mind. He flicked his wand again, just for fun, and whispered a quick incantation. A flash of light and—whoops—the charm hit her square in the chest.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, he noticed it.

Y/N blinked, her gaze locking on his, a soft, dazed look clouding her usually clear eyes. She bit her lip and swayed slightly, almost as though the world around her had lost its balance.

What the hell did I just do? Jimin thought, a cold shiver running down his spine. He’d only meant to play another prank, not... this.

"Y/N?" he asked, voice lower now, suddenly unsure of the situation.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her fingers tightened around the edges of her robes, and her breath came out in shallow bursts.

“Are you alright?” he pressed, though the devilish grin hadn’t left his face.

Y/N’s response wasn’t quite what he expected. She blinked at him again, as if seeing him for the first time, and said softly, “You’re... beautiful.”

Jimin’s smirk faltered.

He watched, almost fascinated, as she stumbled over her words, her hands fidgeting at her sides. Whatever he had done, it had affected her in ways he didn’t understand.

Well, this could be interesting.

But as she stood there, clearly confused by whatever magic had just altered her perception, Jimin couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong.

This is getting really interesting—Jimin's slow realization of how much he messed up, combined with his initial indifference, adds a lot of tension. Here’s how the next scene could play out:

Jimin had never thought much about the aftermath of his teasing. He’d throw a snide comment here, steal a butterbeer there—nothing too serious. The little Hufflepuff was easy to rile up, her reactions far too amusing for him to stop. But lately... something had changed.

Over the past few weeks, Y/N has become strange. More sensitive to his taunts, more flustered than usual. It was almost too easy now. A simple smirk in her direction had her stammering, and sometimes—Merlin forbid—she would look at him with wide, starry eyes, as if he had just saved her from a dragon instead of, say, hexing her quill to scribble nonsense on her parchment.

He didn't think much of it. Maybe she was just being her usual naive self. Maybe she was just going through a phase.

But then, the whispers started.

Jimin had always known she was an easy target—too trusting, too kind for her own good—but lately, people were taking more advantage of her than before. The usual teasing had shifted into something uglier. More cruel. A few times, he caught her looking startled when a group of boys brushed past her too closely in the halls, or freezing up when someone flicked their wand and sent her books tumbling.

Still, he ignored it.

At least, he did until that night.

Jimin had been heading back to his dorm, barely paying attention as he strolled through the dimly lit corridors of the castle. The halls were mostly empty—curfew was approaching—when something made him pause.

A soft sniffle.

He turned the corner, brows furrowing, and what he saw made his stomach clench.

Y/N. Sitting on the cold stone floor, knees drawn up to her chest, her hands curled weakly around them. Her robes were slightly disheveled, her usually bright expression replaced by something hollow. The candlelight flickered against her skin, highlighting the bruises on her knees, a few more scattered on her hands and calves.

Jimin didn’t move at first.

He wasn’t sure why he felt that sudden, uncomfortable pang in his chest, but it was there, unwelcome and nagging.

Y/N sniffled again, rubbing at her eyes with the sleeve of her robe. She hadn’t noticed him yet.

Jimin should have walked away. Should’ve pretended he didn’t see.

Instead, he exhaled sharply and took a step forward. "Oi."

She flinched, her head snapping up. For a second, her dazed eyes met his, and he saw it—the hesitation, the lingering effect of whatever stupid charm he had hit her with.

"...Jimin?" she whispered, blinking in confusion.

He clenched his jaw.

"Tch. What are you doing sitting on the floor like a pathetic little lost kitten?" he muttered, crouching down to her level. His voice was sharp, but his movements were careful.

Y/N swallowed thickly, lowering her gaze. "I—I just... tripped," she lied, a weak attempt at brushing it off.

Jimin's eyes flickered over her bruises. Liar.

For the first time in weeks, his teasing words didn’t come. His usual smirk felt foreign on his lips.

Because deep down, a part of him knew—this wasn’t just some random accident. And the worst part?

It was his fault.

Jimin stayed crouched in front of her, his usual smirk absent, replaced by something unreadable. His sharp eyes scanned the bruises on her skin, the way her fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the fabric of her robe.

He clicked his tongue. "Who did this?"

Y/N blinked at him, eyes glassy from unshed tears.

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping into something firmer. "I’m serious, Y/N. Who? Was it those Ravenclaw pricks? Or was it Jeongmin again?"

She sniffled.

Jimin’s patience was wearing thin. He had seen the way people treated her lately—hell, he’d contributed to it—but even he had limits. This wasn’t just a bit of teasing anymore. Someone had hurt her.

“Y/N,” he pressed, a little softer this time, watching her lower lip wobble. “Tell me.”

Her fingers twisted in the fabric of her robes. Then, instead of answering, she let out a tiny, pitiful noise—half a sniffle, half a whimper—and pouted up at him, her wide eyes shimmering under the dim torchlight.

“Why is everyone so mean to me?”

Jimin froze.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He had been ready for a name, for a snarky excuse, maybe even a dismissive I’m fine. But this? This small, defeated question?

It made something in his chest twist—tight and unfamiliar.

Y/N sniffled again, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve. “I don’t—I don’t even do anything bad,” she hiccuped, voice cracking. "But—but they keep taking my things, and laughing, and—" she bit her lip, looking down. "Even when I say stop, they just laugh harder."

Jimin felt his fingers twitch.

For the first time, he actually looked at her. Not just as the gullible little Hufflepuff he loved to torment, not as the girl who got flustered too easily or tripped over her own feet.

But as someone who was genuinely hurting.

And the worst part? A good portion of that was his fault.

Jimin ran his tongue over his teeth, inhaling sharply. His pride wouldn’t let him soften completely, but for once, the usual amusement in his voice was gone when he muttered, "Tch. They’re idiots. They don’t know any better."

Y/N pouted harder. "But why?"

Jimin clenched his jaw. Why? Because you’re too trusting. Because you never fight back. Because you’re too soft for a school full of people who don’t deserve your kindness. Because—

Because I started it.

He exhaled sharply through his nose and stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his robes.

"Come on," he muttered, holding a hand out.

She blinked up at him. "Huh?"

"You heard me, Hufflepuff. Get up."

She hesitated, but when she finally placed her smaller hand in his, Jimin was hit with a sudden warmth. He ignored it, gripping her wrist and tugging her up to her feet.

She wobbled slightly, her balance off, and before he could think, Jimin’s hands found her waist to steady her.

Too close.

His breath hitched. Y/N was staring up at him again, wide-eyed, lips parted in surprise.

For a second, Jimin forgot why he was supposed to be mad. Why he was even here. All he could focus on was the way her fingers were gripping his sleeve like he was something safe. Like she trusted him.

Like he wasn’t the reason she was like this in the first place.

His grip on her waist tightened before he quickly let go. "Tch. Stop looking at me like that," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Like what?" she sniffled.

He rolled his eyes, turning on his heel. "Never mind."

But as he walked away, jaw tight, he knew one thing for certain—

This was his mess to clean up.

Jimin wasn’t the type to lose sleep over guilt.

But that night, as he lay in his dorm, arms crossed behind his head, he found himself staring at the ceiling, replaying the way Y/N had sniffled up at him with wide, heartbroken eyes.

Why is everyone so mean to me?

He scowled, turning onto his side. Tch. Stupid girl.

Still, when morning came, Jimin found himself paying more attention than usual.

She was easy to spot—Hufflepuffs were loud, and her friend group had the energy of overeager puppies. But even as she chattered away with them, he could tell she wasn’t fully herself. Her movements were stiff, her usual sunshine-like warmth dimmed.

And she was still too damn trusting.

Jimin’s wand twitched in his sleeve as he watched from a distance. A small hex here, a charm there—little things. Subtle things. When she nearly walked into a swinging suit of armor, an invisible force nudged her just enough to avoid it. When a group of Ravenclaws whispered too loudly about her, their quills inexplicably snapped in half. And when one particularly brave Slytherin tried to jinx her from behind?

Well. Jimin had ways of making sure the hex rebounded.

He wasn’t sure what exactly had changed overnight. All he knew was that watching her flinch at every little thing left a bad taste in his mouth.

So, when lunchtime rolled around, and he caught sight of a certain someone sneering in Y/N’s direction, all thoughts of subtlety went out the window.

Jeongmin.

The arrogant bastard was lounging at the Ravenclaw table, shooting Y/N a knowing smirk while she hurried past him, clutching her books a little tighter.

Jimin tilted his head. Interesting.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he was paying attention, he saw it—the way Jeongmin’s friends elbowed each other, laughing under their breath. The way Y/N ducked her head, trying to disappear.

Jimin flexed his fingers. So, you’re the one.

He stood from his seat, rolling his shoulders lazily. He wasn’t impulsive per se—every move he made was calculated. But some things required creativity.

A hex would be too obvious. A fight? Too much paperwork.

No, if Jimin was going to deal with this, he’d do it the smart way.

The Slytherin way.

Later That Evening…

Jeongmin never saw it coming.

One minute, he was on his way back from the library, minding his own business. The next, the torches in the corridor flickered, and a chilling voice murmured from the shadows—

"Going somewhere, Jeongmin?"

The Ravenclaw barely had time to react before he was shoved—hard—against the cold stone wall.

Jimin leaned in, his wand pressing just under Jeongmin’s chin.

"Funny thing," he mused, voice eerily calm. "I heard something interesting today."

Jeongmin swallowed, trying—and failing—to push back. Jimin barely exerted any force, but the weight of his presence alone kept him pinned.

"I heard," Jimin continued, tilting his head, "that you’ve been running your mouth. That you’ve been having a little too much fun at someone else’s expense." His eyes gleamed in the dim torchlight. "That true?"

Jeongmin wet his lips. "I—I don’t know what you’re talking about—"

Jimin clicked his tongue. Wrong answer.

With a lazy flick of his wand, Jeongmin’s knees buckled, forcing him down.

"Try again," Jimin murmured.

Jeongmin gasped, but Jimin crouched, keeping their eye level dangerously close.

"You know," he continued conversationally, "there are certain spells that don’t leave a mark. No proof. No trace." He hummed, tapping his wand against his palm. "Ever heard of the Cold Shiver Hex? Makes it feel like insects are crawling under your skin for days."

Jeongmin’s breath hitched.

"Or the Whisper Curse? A tiny spell—nothing major. But it does make sure you hear the same voice in your head, over and over." Jimin smiled, slow and sharp. "My voice. Repeating one little word."

He leaned in. "Run."

Jeongmin trembled.

Jimin exhaled, letting the silence stretch.

Then, just as suddenly, he stood, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.

"Stay," he drawled, stepping back. "Out of her way."

With one last, lingering glance, he turned on his heel, disappearing down the corridor.

Behind him, Jeongmin slumped against the wall, shaking.

Jimin didn’t look back.

But as he made his way toward the common room, a smirk finally tugged at his lips.

Messing with Y/N? Big mistake.

Y/N barely had time to register what was happening before she found herself being dragged through the corridors, her feet stumbling over the cold stone floor.

“Jimin—wait—!” she yelped, nearly tripping.

“Stop whining.”

“Where are we going?”

“The library.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

She puffed out her cheeks in protest, huffing as she tried to keep up. He had grabbed the back of her coat, practically hauling her along like a misbehaving cat.

“Why are you so grumpy today?” she mumbled, pouting. “You’re always mean, but today feels extra mean.”

Jimin’s eye twitched.

She was the one pouting? She was the one acting like he was being unreasonable? After all the absolute bullshit he had to clean up because of her ridiculous condition?

He inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm.

She wasn’t wrong, though. He was grumpy.

For one, he had spent half his day making sure no one dared to lay a hand on her again. And two, he was pissed at himself.

Because now that he was paying attention, the signs were obvious. The dazed, dreamy looks. The way she got flustered way too easily. How she stared at him all starry-eyed when he so much as breathed in her direction.

And the worst part?

This wasn’t normal.

Not for her.

Y/N was naturally soft, sure. But she wasn’t—or at least, she hadn’t always been—this stupidly, pathetically love-struck.

Which meant… he had caused this.

Somehow.

And that was why they were marching to the library.

Jimin threw her into a chair.

“Sit.”

Y/N let out a tiny squeak, blinking up at him in bewilderment. “You didn’t have to be so rough, you know.”

Jimin ignored her, already scanning the shelves for what he needed. His fingers skimmed the spines of several books—Obscure Charms and How to Break Them, Hexes, Curses, and Accidental Magic, The Unspoken Dangers of Misdirected Spells.

He pulled out three, dropping them onto the table with a thud.

Y/N flinched.

Jimin took a seat across from her, flipping open the first book.

“Alright,” he said, voice clipped. “You’re going to sit there and not whine while I figure out what the hell is wrong with you.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You. Are. Acting. Weird.”

“I am not!”

Jimin shot her a look.

She wilted. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

He scoffed. A little?

“A lot,” he corrected. “And considering the fact that I may or may not have hit you with an undetermined spell—”

Her eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“—we need to fix it before you do something stupid.”

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t do stupid things.”

Jimin gave her a flat look. “You almost walked straight into a cursed tapestry yesterday.”

“…Oh.”

He smirked. “Yeah. Oh.”

She fidgeted. “Well… maybe I am acting a little different,” she admitted, voice soft.

Jimin rolled his eyes. “A little? You’ve been looking at me like I personally hung the stars for the past two weeks.”

Y/N flushed. “I have not—!”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “You swooned when I insulted you.”

Y/N gasped. “I did not swoon!”

“You did.”

She buried her face in her hands, groaning. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah, it’s bad.” Jimin flipped a page, scanning for anything useful.

Y/N peeked at him through her fingers. “W-What if…” she hesitated.

“What?”

“What if…” she fidgeted. “What if I like it?”

Jimin froze.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze from the book, staring at her like she had just grown a second head. “What.”

She squirmed under his stare. “I-I mean… it’s not that bad, right? It’s just a little crush—”

Jimin slammed the book shut.

“Nope.” He stood. “Nope. Absolutely not. We’re fixing this tonight.”

Y/N pouted. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I am not—” he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Y/N. You don’t even like me.”

She blinked.

Jimin continued, voice strained. “Before this stupid charm, you hated me.”

Y/N hesitated. “I didn’t hate you…”

“Oh, really?” Jimin drawled. “So you enjoyed when I stole your butterbeer? When I relentlessly mocked you? When I made fun of you in front of the entire class?”

She bit her lip. “…No.”

Jimin pointed at her. “Exactly.”

Y/N slumped in her chair, deflating. “…Then what do we do?”

Jimin sighed, sitting back down. He flipped open another book, eyes scanning the pages.

“We figure out how to reverse it,” he muttered. “Before you start writing my name in hearts on your notebook.”

Y/N let out a tiny squeak, quickly shoving her notebook under the table.

Jimin’s eye twitched.

Merlin help me.

Jimin was trying to focus.

Really, he was.

But it was proving to be exceedingly difficult when Y/N was sitting across from him looking like an actual water nymph, her chin resting on her hands, lips pouting, legs kicking lazily under the table.

She wasn’t even doing anything. Just… being cute. Like it was effortless. Like it wasn’t completely ruining his concentration.

He flipped another page, trying to ignore the way she sighed dreamily, her fingers tracing aimless patterns on the table.

Merlin’s bloody beard.

It wasn’t helping that she kept staring at him, either. Not with her usual wary glances or that signature Hufflepuff softness. No—this was different.

This was… hungry.

Jimin froze.

Wait.

No. No way.

He narrowed his eyes at her, scrutinizing her expression.

Was that—was she looking at him like she wanted to eat him?

His stomach did a weird flip. He immediately shut that thought down.

No. Nope. No way in hell.

This was Y/N they were talking about. The same wide-eyed, Bambi-looking, butterbeer-loving Hufflepuff who probably cried over injured Bowtruckles.

There was no way she was—

Jimin shook his head. She doesn’t even know what horny is.

Right?

…Right?

His eye twitched.

He refused to entertain the thought.

With a deep sigh, he returned his attention to the book, doing his best to block out her utterly bewildering presence.

“Jimin,” she suddenly murmured.

He gritted his teeth. “What.”

She tilted her head. “Why do your hands look so nice?”

Jimin choked.

“What—?”

“They’re so veiny,” she mused, blinking owlishly. “I like them.”

Jimin snapped the book shut.

That was it. He was finding the cure

Jimin flicked her forehead.

“Ow—!” Y/N huffed, rubbing the spot as she pouted at him.

“Stop staring at me like that and help me find the damn spell,” Jimin scolded, flipping the book open again. “Or at least describe what you're feeling so I know what I’m fixing.”

Y/N blinked, looking up at him with big, thoughtful eyes. She opened her mouth, then hesitated.

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

She fidgeted. “Um…”

He sighed impatiently. “Spit it out, Bambi.”

Y/N’s lips wobbled. “I-It’s just… my heart feels like it’s gonna explode, and there’s butterflies, and my knees feel all weak and wobbly, and—and—”

She swallowed, face heating.

Jimin narrowed his eyes. “And?”

Y/N squirmed, avoiding his gaze.

“…T-Tingles.”

Jimin’s brow furrowed. “Tingles?”

She gave a tiny nod.

He frowned. “Where?”

Silence.

Jimin watched as she slowly, very suspiciously, started sinking lower in her chair, face turning redder and redder.

Realization hit him like a Bludger to the chest.

Oh.

Oh, fuck no.

Jimin slammed the book shut.

“We are fixing this right now.”

Y/N jumped at the slam of the book, her already wobbly knees knocking against the chair legs.

Jimin glared at her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "You're telling me—" he sucked in a sharp breath, "—that I hit you with some random-ass charm that makes you all soft and useless and, and—" His eyes flicked down at her shifting thighs before darting back up. "Tingly?"

Y/N swallowed hard. "W-Well, I wouldn’t say useless…"

Jimin gave her the flattest look.

She fidgeted under his stare, nervously playing with her sleeves. "I just… I feel warm all the time, and everyone seems so much meaner lately, and I don’t know, Jimin, my head's all fuzzy, and my body is—"

"Okay, stop!" he hissed, holding up a hand. He pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply like he needed patience from the heavens above.

Y/N pursed her lips, eyes glistening. "Why are you mad at me?" she mumbled.

Jimin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I’m not mad at you,” he gritted out. "I'm mad at my own dumbass for hitting you with whatever the hell this is."

Y/N blinked. "Oh."

Then, very softly—"You're not a dumbass."

Jimin’s eye twitched. He shot her a sharp look, only to find her staring at him all dotingly again, her lashes fluttering, her lips slightly parted like he was the most dazzling thing she'd ever seen.

Merlin’s bloody socks.

He had to fix this. Now.

Jimin abruptly stood, yanking his tie loose. "Alright, come on."

Y/N blinked in confusion as he grabbed her coat and dragged her out of her chair.

"Jimin—"

"We're finding this spell and reversing it," he grumbled, tugging her toward the Restricted Section.

Y/N stumbled behind him, half-tripping over her own feet. "Wait—"

"Not waiting, Bambi."

"But—"

"Not but-ing either."

Y/N let out a small, defeated whimper as he marched her through the aisles, her little feet barely keeping up.

Jimin, on the other hand, was fighting for his life to ignore the way she was pouting up at him, her fingers clutching his sleeve like some lost little fawn.

He clenched his jaw.

This spell had to go.

Immediately.

Jimin’s fingers tightened around the book.

His eyes scanned the page once, twice—then a third time just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

Aquire the object of your desire.

The words stared mockingly back at him.

His throat went dry. "No way."

Y/N, still swaying slightly beside him, tilted her head. "What does it say?"

Jimin didn’t answer. His mind was racing.

It wasn’t a love spell.

Not some stupid, artificial enchantment forcing her feelings. Not some external force turning her into a love-drunk fool.

It was an amplifier.

The charm didn't create her feelings—it just intensified what was already there.

Jimin sat back, the realization hitting him like a goddamn truck.

Jimin stared at the book. Then at Y/N. Then back at the book.

His brain was short-circuiting.

The charm was an amplifier. It only enhanced feelings that were already there.

Which meant—

She’d already felt like this before.

The stolen glances, the nervous fidgeting, the way she melted when he so much as breathed in her direction. The way she looked at him now—

Like she wanted to devour him.

Jimin swallowed, jaw tightening.

There was only one way to fix this.

He shut the book with an audible thud.

Y/N blinked at him, wide-eyed. “Did you find the cure?”

Jimin exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah."

She perked up. "Oh! What is it?"

He turned to her, looking her over slowly—her flushed cheeks, the way she was still swaying slightly, her pupils way too dilated for her own good.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"Well…" he drawled.

Y/N tilted her head. "Well…?"

Jimin leaned in, his voice low and unbelievably smug.

“We’ll have to fuck it out.”

Y/N froze.

Silence.

Absolute, earth-shattering silence.

Then—

"WHAT—?"

Y/N’s entire body seized up.

Her breath hitched, eyes widening to the size of saucers. "E-EXCUSE ME?!"

Jimin leaned back against the table, crossing his arms lazily. “You heard me, Bambi.”

Her mouth opened—then closed—then opened again, but no words came out. Her face burned so hot, she swore she was about to spontaneously combust.

Jimin, on the other hand, looked far too pleased with himself. He tilted his head, watching her with a lazy smirk. “I mean, unless you wanna stay like this forever—getting all weak and breathless every time I so much as look at you.”

Y/N whimpered.

Jimin chuckled, low and deep. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Her hands flew to her face, her brain scrambling to process what was happening. “T-That can’t be the only way—”

Jimin shrugged. “It’s the fastest way.”

She gawked at him.

He grinned. “What? You’d rather wait weeks for the effects to wear off?” He leaned in again, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Or do you wanna fix this tonight?”

Y/N squeaked.

Jimin chuckled again, dark and satisfied. He loved this. Loved watching her squirm, loved how her breathing quickened when he got too close.

And now that he knew she wanted him?

Oh, he was going to have fun with this.

“So?” he purred. “What’s it gonna be, Bambi?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. Her whole body buzzed—with heat, with want, with something overwhelming—but underneath it all, a small, quiet voice whispered: Not yet.

She didn’t know why.

Jimin was right. This was the fastest way to get rid of the spell. She wanted him—hell, the spell made sure of that—but something in her gut twisted at the idea of just… giving in like that.

She wasn’t ready.

Not like this.

Y/N licked her lips, her gaze flickering away. “I… I think I’ll wait.”

Silence.

When she finally dared to look at him, Jimin was just… staring.

Brows slightly furrowed. Lips parted just the tiniest bit. Like she had just spoken in Parseltongue and he couldn’t understand a damn word she’d said.

"You’ll what?"

Y/N felt her chest tighten. “I’ll wait. Until it wears off.”

Jimin’s head tilted. He genuinely looked confused. “Wait.”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Even though you’re, like, two seconds away from melting whenever I so much as breathe near you?”

Y/N whimpered, looking away again. “Y-Yes.”

Jimin blinked, then scoffed. “That’s stupid.”

She frowned. “It’s not!”

He let out a sharp laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re miserable, Bambi! I see it! You can barely focus, you freeze when someone so much as bumps into you, you can’t even look at me without turning into a puddle!” He gestured at her with both hands. “This is your chance to fix it!”

Y/N flinched.

Jimin stopped.

The frustration in his eyes faltered for just a second.

Then—

Y/N abruptly scampered away.

Jimin didn’t even have time to react. She shot up from her chair, mumbling something about needing to study or sleep or something before she practically ran out of the library.

Jimin was left standing there, staring at the empty space she left behind.

His jaw clenched.

What the fuck just happened?

Jimin wasn't having it.

The moment Y/N ran off, something inside him snapped.

He wasn’t even thinking—his feet just moved, following her out of the library, down the dimly lit corridors, ignoring the ridiculous pounding in his chest.

By the time he caught up to her, she was halfway to the Hufflepuff dorms, walking with her head down, her arms hugged tight around herself.

Jimin grabbed her wrist. “Hey—”

Y/N jumped, eyes wide as she spun around.

“Jimin—”

He exhaled sharply, scanning her face. "What’s wrong?"

Y/N’s lips parted slightly. "I—I told you, I just want to w-wait—”

Jimin’s jaw tightened. "Yeah, and that’s bullshit. You’re burning up, you can barely look at me without your knees buckling, and yet you ran the moment I gave you an actual solution."

She flinched, gaze darting away.

Jimin took a step closer. "So what is it? What’s stopping you?"

Y/N inhaled shakily. She bit her lip, as if debating whether to say anything at all.

Then, finally—

“…Don’t get mad.”

Jimin stiffened.

Something about the way she said it—soft, hesitant, like she was genuinely afraid of his reaction—made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

He swallowed, forcing himself to nod. “I won’t.”

Y/N hesitated for a long moment. Then, she sighed.

“…I do have feelings for you.”

Jimin’s breath caught.

She looked up at him, cheeks flushed, lips trembling. "And, yeah, I’m all… hot and bothered and it’s so embarrassing, but…"

She fidgeted with the sleeves of her robe.

"You’ve always been mean to me, Jimin." Her voice was quiet. "You tease me, you steal my stuff, you embarrass me in front of everyone. You’ve never been nice to me before. So how am I supposed to trust that after we… you know… you won’t just go back to treating me like a joke?"

Jimin froze.

His lips parted, but no words came out.

Because fuck.

He hadn’t thought about that.

Jimin stared at her.

For the first time in his life, he was completely speechless.

Because—fuck—she was right.

He had been mean to her. He had bullied her. He had made her life at Hogwarts miserable whenever he got the chance.

So why the fuck should she trust him now?

His fingers twitched around her wrist, his grip loosening.

Y/N bit her lip, gaze dropping to the floor. “…See?” she whispered. “You can’t even deny it.”

Jimin’s chest tightened.

His mind raced, searching for something—anything—to say, but for once, his usual sharp tongue failed him.

And then, before he could even try to stop her, she gently pulled her wrist from his grasp and took a step back.

"I need to go." Her voice wavered, but her expression was set. "Please don’t follow me this time."

Jimin didn’t move.

He just stood there, watching as she turned away—her shoulders slumped, her steps small and unsure, her hand brushing against the wall as if she needed to steady herself.

He clenched his jaw.

Something ugly clawed at his chest.

The same feeling he got when he saw her with those assholes. When he saw her bruised and sniffly and small.

He hated that feeling.

And he hated even more that he was the reason she looked like that now.

Jimin exhaled sharply through his nose, his hands clenching into fists.

Fine.

She wanted him to prove he wasn’t the same asshole who had tormented her for years?

Then he fucking would.

Jimin stood there, his chest tight, mind spiraling. The further Y/N walked away from him, the more the words rattled in his brain.

You’ve always been mean to me, Jimin.

He clenched his jaw so hard he thought his teeth might crack.

Fuck.

He had always known he was a bit of an asshole. He liked pushing people, making them squirm, seeing how far he could go before they cracked. But with her?

It was different.

Something about her made him… possessive.

He wasn’t proud of it, but it was true.

Sure, he bullied her, mocked her, made her life hell—because she was fun to mess with. She was soft, sweet, and naive, too easy to rile up. He loved how she’d get flustered, how her cheeks would heat up when he teased her.

But there was always this little something that lingered under the surface. The moments he couldn’t explain away.

Like that time in third year when he saw some idiot bump into her in the hallway and she dropped her books. He’d been about to walk away, but when she bent down to pick them up, the way the guy looked at her—hungrily—made his blood boil.

He remembered stepping in, elbowing the guy aside with a sharp glare, picking up her books for her, all without a second thought.

And there was the time when he noticed her limping after a quidditch match, her ankle twisted. He’d called her a “freaking idiot” but then cursed under his breath and healed her leg, making sure to be extra gentle as his fingers brushed against her skin.

He'd never said anything, but it bugged him. Every time she looked at him, she saw him as a monster, a bully.

But deep down, he always felt this strange protectiveness. Like no one else was allowed to touch her, to hurt her.

Only he was allowed to hurt her.

And now, realizing the weight of those little moments, he felt it, really felt it.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He had been pushing her away, tormenting her for what? For fun?

A sick feeling churned in his stomach. He wasn’t the same person he used to be, but fuck if he wasn’t still a huge part of the problem.

He cursed himself again.

She’d given him the perfect chance to fix this, to make it right, and instead, he’d acted like a goddamn asshole.

He glanced back toward the direction she’d gone, his hands trembling with frustration.

Jimin ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. No more. He wasn’t going to let her slip away again.

He wasn’t sure what exactly it was yet—whether it was the spell or just how real everything felt now—but he knew this:

He wasn’t done with her. And if he had to destroy his own pride to prove it, then so be it.

CONTINUATION | PART 2

#bts smut #bts x reader #park jimin #jimin smut #namjoon #bts army #bts jin #bts jungkook #fantasy #fluff #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #harry potter #slytherin #hufflepuff #wands #magic #so fucking hot

49 notes · View notes

btsstaysgold · 1 year ago

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Namkook literally screams 2 pretty best friends!!

(crtto)

184 notes · View notes

mochilatae · 16 days ago

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The Gift (Namjoon x FemReader/YN)

Word Count: 8.4k (ish)

Warnings: Ethically questionable stuff (student/teacher), kissing, unprotected sex, public sex, seduction, slow burn, Namjoon basically propositions you, wall fuck, standing sex, orgasms (his and yours), fingering (a little), dry humping/grinding, dirty/sexy talk, sexy Namjoon energy everywhere, nicknames, praise/praise kink, scratching, rough/intense sex, drinking.

I probably forgot some warnings but oh well.

Genre: PwP

AUs: Professor Namjoon/Professor BTS

Summary: You're an adult and that means working on your birthday, but you're determined to finish your shift and make the best of the night until a last minute customer changes your plans.

Author’s Note: A very happy birthday gift for @askkrisachan. I resurrected this from the past. It was posted before but was lost when I was deactivated for a bit. I felt it was worth bringing back.

If you're into Professor Namjoon, enjoy. If you're not, please skip. I'm doing this for the Namjoon stans.

Ignore typos. This stands as it is, imperfections and all. If you enjoyed it and feel like giving a Kudo or reblog, it's appreciated but not required.

Tag List: @worldwideseal @askkrisachan

“Don’t be mad.”

Your coworker’s pleading eyes matched the sorrow in her tone. At least she was convincing enough, hands briefly clasped as she filled the limited wait station space.

You leaned a hip into the counter and glanced at the clock, then back to those eyes, now glimmering. Maybe she was working up tears for added effect.

“That usually means I’m going to be.”

“I know you’re almost done.”

“I AM done. It’s 5 minutes before clock out time. I was counting on this time to breathe and hide from anything before the end of shift. Somehow, here you are. The news can’t be good. Would you blame me?”

“No..” She replied, taking off her half apron. You watched her empty the pockets. That was a lot of the end-of-shift gestures YOU were about to do but she still had a good 4 hours left. “..But it’ll be worth it.”

“That’s not computing.”

You went up on tiptoes, glancing over the top of the wall dividing the wait station from the rest of the main dining space. It wasn’t the busiest night but it had cleared out enough you didn’t notice any new heads among the lot.

Your eyes returned to your coworker, who was glaring at the time clock, her face washed in the computer screen’s pale glow.

“Make it make sense.” You nudged her with a hip, earning barely a glance and a thinning of her lips.

“...What’s going on?”

“It’s my lunch break.” True, but in the scheme of things the end of your shift was higher up on the totem. She had to understand that.

“...And you’ve got to see this guy.” She continued.

“What.” You sighed, arms crossing.

It was a strong battle in your mind---both sides in a battle for the ages: push her back out, apron tossed along to finish whatever she started, or be the bigger person and take on what she’d passed your way.

On such a special day in your life. …Which seemed to be forgetten.

“Listen to me–” You started, cut off by the ding of the computer’s time clock.

Your coworker spun on her heel, flashing a grin. The rising level of her brows had you curious. She looked almost…delighted and it probably had less to do with her now begun lunch break.

“YOU listen. Table 3–”

“The one in the back corner?”

“Yep.”

“The low value table. Great.” Your arms fell.

This wasn’t going to help fix the grievous deed just done to you. Your mood dipped and your head throbbed with the menacing beginnings of a stress headache. “Of all the days–”

“Y/n.” She frowned, the shimmer in her eyes calculating. Mischievous and unusual, especially on the clock.

“It’s my birthday.” You reminded her. Like you had when you’d clocked in earlier and she’d given you a tepid “Cool.”

She shrugged. “Consider it a gift. Trust me.”

Your coworker passed over a check pad and your favorite pen. The one you’d just put down. It hadn’t even had a full minute of rest, like you. Until this moment, so wrongly snatched away.

“I don’t trust you.” Still, you snuck another look out, over to the corner where that single table was situated.

A form was there, hard to see much more from this far end of the dining room. You glanced back at your coworker, surprised to find her eyes still locked at that space across the way.

And her face was painted with barely checked desire.

“Jen..” You sighed, hearing the wobble at the end of the word. Her pat on your shoulder was brief. Not a single ounce of reassurance from the contact and almost fleeting.

“Happy birthday, Y/n. Get going. Your shift is almost over.”

---------------------------------------------

Table 3 had never looked more dimly lit. Or it was your dramatic brain at work, already working overtime with how sorry you felt for yourself.

Smile painted on, you stopped there, noticing the form right away. Head bowed, you could tell enough: male. Tall. Light hair aglow on the ends from the candle light barely reaching the edges of this space.

You swallowed, shoulders squaring and spine going straight.

Just get through this, then you’re done.

“Good evening.. Have you decided what you’d like?”

The eyes caught your focus first: almost golden. They flinched wide, then narrowed a moment later. The curve at both ends of a lush mouth.

The menu met the table slowly, pushed closer to the center. You noted he’d moved the second tightly rolled table setting close to the far end of the table.

“What do you recommend?”

“Pardon?” You squeaked. You were taken aback. The usual was a question about the specials, but no one had really asked your preferences. As if you weren’t much beyond a warm body to bring drinks and take away plates.

Delivery and retrieval. Waiting on the whims of a stranger. For fairly good money. Suggestions weren’t the usual request. It was all about the expectations that you met for others.

The smile relaxed, spreading. You noticed the shift in his cheeks: shaded dents revealed dimples. You rocked back a little on your heels and turned your stare to the menu, face up on the table. No way from this far you’d make sense of that small print–let alone in the limited ambient lighting.

Still..

“The ah…Bouledvadier.” You could remember the description and found it promising. And it was the first thing to jump out of your memory.

The man’s brows lowered until they were even. You watched him scour the menu without making a move to lean forward. He had good enough vision but also verified. You liked that, anyway.

“A cocktail.” He mused. A minute later he stared into your eyes again. “Maybe. What else?”

“Well..if you’re a whiskey fan, we have the Sazerac–”

“Let’s go with that.” A quick enough response. Not that you minded being cut off. The softness in his eyes certainly helped as his stare traveled over your form.

Suddenly the mid-thigh flounce of your skirt and contouring blouse were center stage. Not that a man’s eyes on you had ever been a problem before. Doing this job, you were used to a certain amount of attention and that translated into higher tips.

But right now something settled into your belly. A heaviness, bringing with it a glowing warmth.

You cleared your throat with a nod, jotting the order down. Keeping the pad higher in front of you gave something to hide behind as you peered surreptitiously over the top, pen still poised and trembling just a tiny bit.

“Anything else?”

The man finally looked back at the menu, then picked it up, holding it out.

“For now, no.”

You barely grasped the menu, relieving him of it in short order. As you spun away you heard him call out “Thank you..”

As you exhaled on the way towards the bar it became clear: you'd held the same breath for far too long. And when it came out, your head spun. The world hazed briefly, you heartbeat galloping momentarily.

What was that feeling in the back of your mind? It was like an itch. Like something familiar was lingering that you’d forgotten but had begun to grope in the dark to remember. If you fumbled and wandered long enough, you’d stumble upon it.

---------------------------------------------

It was the way he reached out when you’d set the glass down that had you frozen. Your fingers grazed his as they touched along one side of the tumbler.

You couldn’t look up. You could barely keep from whining at the silky heat.

“Namjoon.”

“...W…what?” You barely mumbled, looking at the way his knuckles rounded with his grip contouring the glass. Your hand went to your side. A brief consideration was made towards never washing that hand again, just to savor the memory of his touch.

“That’s my name. What’s yours?”

“Mine?” You blinked. It was a trickle of realization and it was loaded with shame: you’d forgotten to introduce yourself properly. The same thing you’d done for hours earlier. Almost without thinking. You forced a polite frown.

“..I’m ..sure I said my name when I approached.” No need to embarrass him or yourself. You tried the tactful route.

“I’m sure you didn’t. I would have remembered.” Namjoon wasn’t having it, his mouth even as the glass approached his lips.

“Of course..” You nodded,woozy from the action, then bowed your head. “Y/n.” The small curtsey was unintentional and yet done so readily. Like part of your brain was out of control.

Namjoon’s throat worked. You heard the swallow. He licked his lips, tongue retreating behind slightly parted flesh.

“Y/n.”

“Yes.” You smiled at your shoes, studying the shiny black toes of the modest heels that had your feet aching until a little bit ago, when you’d stopped here at Namjoon’s table.

For the time being you’d forgotten mostly everything. Except that persistent nibble, still going at the back of your skull.

It wasn’t getting any better, especially when he leaned forward and picked up a napkin, giving you a better view: long neck. Crisp dress shirt. Still neatly done black tie. A very common mode of dress. The tie pin was unique to him---you’d seen THAT before too.

“Thank you, Y/n.” He turned the glass a few times, not bothering to hide his study of it.

“Anything else for you?”

A long moment passed, then his head tilted. “The check in–” He paused to check the time on his watch. You noted the lift of his brow.

“--10 minutes.” Another nod and his smile was much more friendly. His tone even moreso, he added “...You’ve been very attentive.”

THAT was a lie. If anything he’d been the lowest maintenance customer you’d had all night, throwing you off significantly. Why were you lamenting that fact now?

It was your birthday night and you’d been near the point of strangling your coworker for tossing this customer your way so close to being out the door.

But now you weren’t so angry. The pressure wasn’t from stress. A new energy gathered, hotter and tighter along your navel as you turned away. It flared when you heard your name again, in a low mumble.

It was only safe to look back from the safety of the wait station’s border wall, your brows and nose barely above the wooden rail. As you gazed, Namjoon’s lean form relaxed. His knees fell wide and his entire upper body relaxed into the shadows spilling across the wall behind his table.

Like he’d semi-melted into the dark, sinking into some quiet well of sensuality. Charisma. Some magnetic center you knew you’d find yourself going back to. This time your lips broke apart to suck in a breath you had realized you’d been starving for until this moment. Until this man.

---------------------------------------------

“You’re a student.” Namjoon announced when you returned with his check.

This time he was standing, stretching a little. For a moment panic swarmed your senses. Had you mis-timed the whole thing and kept him waiting for the check?

You glanced at the wall and the large clock there. It hadn’t been that long. Your eyes hadn’t deceived you, even being on HIM most of the night.

“I am..” You replied, holding out the check.

Almost every student you knew was working some job at the local restaurants or retail stores. You weren’t unique, but you could freely admit you worked harder than most.

Namjoon took his time, studying the check. Seconds slipped by. The single soft line between his brows, furrowed in focus. The flex in his lips, shining from the remains of the cognac and whiskey blend he’d taken an appreciable amount of time to savor.

It was the way he did it that united loose ends. And knotted your belly. You..knew the look–that focus.

“..Professor Kim?” You ventured.

When he glanced at you, then nodded with a charming grin, you vaguely reached for the nearby chair, fingers curling over the top of the back.

His smile was like a dawning sun. Like opening a door and smelling delicious baked bread. Stepping into the warmth of a spring afternoon, post rain storm.

“I was about to say. I’ve been sitting here wondering if it was you.”

“Y…You know who I am?” But why shouldn’t he?

Namjoon had an exceptional memory–the kind of professor that greeted every student by name, every single class. Unlike him, you only returned the greeting half the time, but not for lack of wanting to.

It was so far from why you didn’t. Why you COULDN’T.

Namjoon shrugged, hand going to his pocket to dig out his wallet. He passed the check back, a card pinched with it between his pointer and middle fingers, the digits so long your mouth watered.

The same ones you’d watched follow the words on a page when you stood next to his desk earlier in the week, watching him scan your latest paper. All you did was wait, head airy and lungs burning from the world’s deepest breath. Even if it wouldn’t begin to give you enough air being so close to your crush.

“Mmm. Of course I do. How can I not?”

“I–”

“You’re one of my best students.”

You couldn’t begin to debate it. If he saw your GPA he might have to amend that, but for now you didn’t wither further, tracing fingers that relaxed their death grip on the chair. Feeling the nervous energy, your fingertips followed the ornate woodwork while your eyes followed the lines of Namjoon’s arms, right up to his shoulders.

“Thank you.” You murmured. The check fluttered a bit as you held it up and waved the paper briefly. “I’ll…be right back then, Professor Kim.”

“Y/n.” It was a scolding but his words caressed your soul. And you throbbed, dead center between your legs. You couldn’t look back or you’d faint here, on the spot. Your shoulders rose as you barely turned your head, showing him your profile.

He waited for a beat, then spoke again.

“Call me Namjoon. No need for that here. We’re not in class.”

“I can’t help it.” You flagged a bit, praying there was no insult or trouble. The way you addressed this man spoke to the automatic respect he’d earned with his position and power. He’d earned it.

“I understand. But try, for me.”

Ask me to do ANYTHING and I’ll do it.

To be so ready for anything his limitless mind could demand. It had you freshly afraid, but fear never felt this good. The way it moved through you as a current, swilling across the tender hairs on your thighs and the nape of your neck.

Your lip was nearly raw with a few seconds of chewing. You weren’t even aware, biting so hard. In desperation for..something. Heat gnawed at your guts and you nodded.

Eyes trained towards the POS computer screen farther across the way, you clung to the only beacon in an approaching storm Namjoon had easily stirred deep inside.

---------------------------------------------

“Y/n.”

The voice came from behind you as you leaned over the table, giving it a last wipe.

Namjoon. Again.

You stood upright, turning slowly. No need to spin, or you’d take yourself out and take the table with you. Not a good idea, even if this place was much emptier than before. You’d hardly noticed, lingering so much between here and the wait station–a soapy bucket with extra rags bobbing around the steaming depths, waiting for your fated return.

Your fingers curled, damp rag dripping on the floor near your shoe as your lips worked. Your eyes scanned the area in search, but there was no use: Namjoon was right here. Standing in front of you once more.

Smiling–again. Without a tie, you noted. You’d never seen him without one immaculately knotted, or his shirt unbuttoned as it was now.

He’d undone the top two.

You wondered when that happened: before exiting a while ago or entering again, on his way to you still lollygagging under the yolky overhead light.

…But did it really matter now?

You watched the way Namjoon’s hand went to his slacks pocket. He patted there, then glanced around you, to the table and the seat he’d used. You looked there too, only to find the glossy black leather cushion, bare but probably still warm.

Your brows twitched. “..Pr—Namjoon? You…”

You looked again just in case, then came back with the same result: nothing. You twisted the damp rag and ignored the tickle of lukewarm droplets running down your fingers. Probably making a puddle on the floor.

“I can check the wait station. If someone loses something, we usually bring it there..”

You motioned, then took a step forward, heading that way. It was Namjoon’s gentle touch–the fingers on your shoulder, folding so easily over the roundness there. It stopped you dead.

“It hasn’t been that long.” His hand went back to his side but you’d never felt a stare so heavy the way Namjoon’s rested on you now. And there wasn’t a single inch of you that minded.

“...Was it your wallet? I don’t think you left it here.” You offered.

Not at all surprising how meek you sounded. You’d clocked out, in your haze, and just gone about your duties, still taking every second to linger where Namjoon had been for a criminally short amount of time.

But here he was.

You wanted to lean into his touch, if he’d bless you with it again. Your skin still tingled where his fingertips made pressure contact.

“Not my card.” He wore too big a smile for someone who might actually have lost a card OR a wallet, but you didn’t move to check and confirm.

Especially not with Namjoon taking up the space separating you from the wait station. This man was so broad. Wide enough to block those familiar walls from your darting eyes.

Mutual staring carried on for a few moments, only interrupted with a titter of laughter as a couple far across the dining room got up, then headed for the front hostess desk. They disappeared around that corner, the double entry doors opening and closing, signaling more departures.

A figure moved at the other end of the dining room, from chair to chair and blowing out candles on each table.

The start of closing duties, even far enough out from official end time. You should be walking home by now, but here you were: stuck like you’d grown roots or Namjoon had tied you immobile.

Namjoon took a step nearer. Every inch hacked at the hierarchy you both understood each time you crossed the threshold of the classroom door.

Right now it was a simple fact of nature: he was just a man and you a woman. Years between you were meaningless–certainly nothing to keep a needful pulsation from rising through your middle.

“You wrote that paper on the Era of the Common Man.” He flashed a brief, easy smile.

You couldn’t forget, having cried plenty about it. You’d never sweated so much like you’d done leaving the paper on his desk a week ago. Then came a new agony as you’d spent far too long checking the online gradebook each day, with eyes wide and praying harder than a sinner on Sunday.

“I did.” You hedged. Prepare for the worst. THAT was it. He’d returned to give you the dressing down of your life for failing so badly. No pretense of a class session to drop the paper on your desk.

Why ELSE would he come back?

Your throat tightened.

“It was exceptional.” He murmured, lids falling.

Your heart was in your throat as you swallowed against pressure in your throat. The lump didn’t move. You palmed your navel. There was so much fluttering inside, but skin and muscle overtop didn’t move, except for a slow rise and fall.

“Hmm?” You swayed lightly on your heels, the pain of hours on your feet just..gone. The rag met the floor in a soggy heap. You didn’t bother looking. If there was anything in the world to care less about at this moment…

Namjoon’s brow rose. “You wrote the paper.” No accusation. 100 percent a dare: protest otherwise. Try to lie.

You weren’t about to do that. If there was one thing about Professor Namjoon Kim, it was his built in ability to detect the thinnest lie or break the strongest one in pieces. Around campus the common knowledge held true: Namjoon wouldn’t have anything but the truth.

“The best of the bunch, Y/n.” He added, his other brow rising. Both even along his smooth forehead.

“I…” You trailed off, mesmerized by a flexing shadow at the base of his throat. The way lines moved around that space kept your attention too well. Your exhale seared through the minimal part in your lips.

Namjoon was nearer with another step, bringing his scent with. Warm, plum sweet unfurled around you. Quite a feat over the pine oil and clove notes filtering through the space all night and since the beginning of your employment history here.

“You’re an amazing student.”

“Thank you.” You swallowed back a whine. Was that delight in your chest? It was running rampant, making your breath limited when the thrill squeezed across your breasts.

You snuck a look at Namjoon, shocked to find his eyes greeting you.

Beaming down at you, even worse than when he’d stop mid lecture and stand facing the class. Waiting for questions. Confirmation. Responses of the verbal variety or the occasional challenge.

You noted how he took his time looking around the place. You didn’t dare turn your stare away. Your attention was the least of what you wanted to give this man.

It just got more questionable and salacious from there.

“You work too.” He observed. You nodded. “Is this normally a work night for you?”

Another nod. You tucked a strand behind your ear.

“Seems…tough. You balance working and doing so well in my class.”

“I’m decent with time management.” Hiding a grin almost hurt as your mouth twisted down at both ends. When Namjoon paused to study your face, you went cool.

“I don’t think that’s all of it but..” You stared at the tips of Namjoon’s leather shoes, shining under the light as they shuffled closer, stopping near the ends of your Mary Janes. Tightness slowly crept up your thighs. The essence of your soul was being squeezed out of you hellishly slow....and it felt SO good.

“You…came back.” You countered, trying to be brave and cool.

“Mmhmm.”

“Why? You didn’t leave anything here..”

“Maybe not.” Namjoon agreed, chuckling. “..Isn’t today a special day?”

“Hmm?”

Namjoon checked his watch, then his expression hardened for a split second. You’d seen that look sitting in the front row in your class, during a particularly poor class wide effort on a pre-mid term pop quiz.

It was a look that had you sitting a few seats back from the next week up until now. You couldn’t take it–your body felt like it’d been lit on fire. You’d just begun to only feel woozy entering class and sitting down to face him, and he hits you with this reminder.

“Your birthday.”

You blinked, looking around too. No answers there–especially not your helpful coworkers who were leaving in turn. Just the normal closers, walking around the edges of the space, in the shadows, and as deaf as they ever pretended to be.

“My–”

“Birthday.” Namjoon finished, then nodded faintly.

“You shouldn’t be working on your birthday.” He gave his opinion, and like most times he had his say, he was entirely correct.

“Well.. it’s not a luxury I can afford as an adult.” Especially newly minted in the world. But here you were, doing the right thing. Like in school, that was your style. You couldn’t justify the cut to a paycheck just to celebrate a day you hadn’t given much thought to since grade school. You weren’t big on making yourself a big deal, traditionally.

“I’m sure you do.” You countered and Namjoon laughed, head back to expose his long neck even more. Revealing endless clean, succulent looking skin.

“I make room for treating myself.” He said it so freely. Plain and simple, like his stare from hooded eyes.

“I want to do that.” It was frightening how easy you confessed.

Something about Namjoon felt safe for you to agree with him.

You imagined what he did on his birthday to spoil himself: Adorable flashes of cutely self indulgent ‘me’ moments, with all his favorite hidden joys, but that quickly vanished as lurid images snuck through your consciousness.

Ones readily to remind of what YOU’D do for him on his special day.

“When are you done?” Namjoon asked, startling you for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Um…” You almost didn’t recognize the place, looking around again. Lost, you nearly forgot where the clock was until bearings returned—and THAT took an impressive amount of time. Doing the math was quick enough as you replied “15 minutes.”

“Mmm.” This time Namjoon pulled his dress sleeve back a bit more. He’d undone the buttons on the cuff and pushed the material up. His stare leveled on you again.

“..Let me give you a gift.”

“A gift? You don’t have to.”

Was there that much shame to admit earning his best student label could be a birthday, Christmas AND graduation gift all rolled into one? Maybe to others. People so far from you they might as well be on the other side of the Earth tonight.

Your lips tightened, after your tongue slid across them.

“I don’t have to, it’s true. But I’d like to reward my top student—AND celebrate your day. It would make the evening complete–” He paused with a nod towards the hallway off from the kitchen. The one leading to an exit at the back of the restaurant.

And going to private parking.

“You finish up whatever you’ve got left. I’ll meet you there.”

A place you never parked but what if he had? The private lot in the back–reserved for permit and friends of the owners ONLY. Requirements you were sure he hadn’t met.

Namjoon had little room for such nagging details. Not acting like he had any pressing concern about it for a second.

“If you’re sure…” As you got the words out, heat rose to your forehead, finishing the climb up your body. A visceral reaction, strictly from the power swelling in the air.

The possessive word choice dug claws in and hung on.

‘My best student’.

‘MY’.

His. That felt more than right. Better than amazing. Mind bending.

Heart and head raced for the absolute limit just watching his hand dip halfway into one pocket as Namjoon’s head tipped to the right. He didn’t bother to hide the once-over of your form, before speaking again.

“Never been more. See you in a bit.”

---------------------------------------------

You barely paused to slide your coat on when Namjoon’s voice came again. From behind you. Deja-vu, but this time closer than he could ever need, even with the narrow hall width. A ruddy glow from the Exit sign painted the minimal space in a world of red.

You liked the ambience at this moment. It paired nicely with a gentle exhale caressing your cheek with Namjoon, right behind you. That was his form you swayed into, without a single inch of yield on his part.

One hand collecting your coat, he spoke, voice low.

“Do you normally drive?”

Wherever your coat went, captured in his grasp, you let it go, but still tried for a look over one shoulder, until Namjoon made a sound–a variant of a growl. Your body reacted, nipples puckering. It was the biggest surprise since Namjoon came back in OR showed up in the first place.

“Y..yeah.”

It was mostly about affording gas, insurance and the mental space to stress over a daily commute. There wasn’t much in this town that wasn’t within walking distance anyway.

Your head turned again and body followed. Namjoon retreated, giving you room. Face to face again, Namjoon closed in until his front pressed lightly. The firmness hiding under Namjoon’s clothes was undeniable. Palpable—like the heartbeat along both your temples.

Namjoon gazed down, lips shaping a warm smile. Further in the depths of his eyes, there was curiosity and expectation. A lot like when he waited by your desk to collect a finished test or check your progress on an end-of-section question set.

Or like last week, in line at the local campus coffee shop, Namjoon unaware and so placid while you’d been bolted in place, back to him and eyes popping. Breath trapped by a tightness in your chest.

“Should I give you your reward now?”

“Reward?” You mumbled, entirely confused. He hadn’t come in with anything. In fact you were certain he’d shown up with LESS than before.

Being in this tucked away space was perfect with much you daydreamed about getting Namjoon alone. The need drilled right into the depths of your most private fantasies and fate took care of it, just not in the usual way: on campus, in his office.

Namjoon’s head bobbed faintly. “That’s right.”

“Reward….Doesn’t sound like a birthday thing.” You grinned. He mirrored it. “We’re not in class, like you said.”

“True.” Namjoon’s gaze darted back to the doorway further down, leading to the main dining room. More candles out meant more darkness. Your coworkers had dwindled to two other people. Two who knew enough to not come looking for you, or care much about anything other than getting home post-closing duties.

“My best student—I think I’ve got enough experience under my belt to know quality when I read it. I’ve spent years reading A LOT of student papers, Y/n.”

A needless reminder but still served a purpose in flexing how ravenous his mind was. His palm pressed the wall near where your back touched when you leaned back.

“I know.” Your voice shrank. The pressure between your legs expanded.

Namjoon lifted his other hand and traced two fingers along a strand of your hair, then tucked it behind one ear before trailing down your jaw. When your lips slackened, Namjoon squinted at your jawline.

“Close your eyes.”

His whiskey infused sigh crossed your lips and his mouth connected a moment later. Your muffled moan disappeared into this surprise kiss. Your body melted against Namjoon as he deepened the kiss.

Your center clenched and you dug nails into your thighs, gently clawing skirt hem higher in a fevered energy burst. Your breasts perked as you sucked in a deep breath with nostrils wide.

Namjoon’s lips came away. His palm cupped along your cheek. He sunk teeth into his lip and teased the apple of your cheek with his nose, inhaling your scent deep. Exhaling with a rumble.

“Yes…” He cooed. “Your lips are so soft. Y/n–”

“D..Dolly.”

Namjoon let out a brief snort. Soft and shocked, but no trace of derision or shaming.

“What’s that?”

“Call me..Dolly?”

“Dolly..” Namjoon’s mouth pecked your chin and your head met the wall, chin lifted in offering to his hungry mouth. No way a drink was enough to satisfy whatever appetite dragged him back here.

“I like that. Dolly.. MY dolly?” A few more fingers walked your skin, just above the knee. As your thigh fell wide and that foot left the floor when the knee bent, Namjoon explored up and in, rising higher.

Going right under the hem of that pleated, flouncy material. Where it got perilously humid, at the apex of both thighs. Namjoon turned his hand over, up to the wrist under the skirt. Guiding the back of a few nails across your cotton clad pussy, his brows drew down.

“Oh my GOD. You’re so …hot. All because of..me?”

You nodded so fervently your head thumped and an ache shot down your nape. You whined and he let out a hiss. The blunt pad of a finger circled the top of your folds, finding the point of your clit. Making it rise and harden that much more.

You couldn’t help it, sinking into the urge as your thigh slid up Namjoon’s side to bring that calf over his hip. You tugged him closer and Namjoon fell against you. A broad palm cupped under your other ass cheek and he curled all five fingers, snagging and dragging material towards the inside of your ass cheek.

Giving you a half thong. Namjoon slipped his tongue past your lips as your breast crushed against his chest. You grabbed at his shirt, feeling buttons popping open more, heat rolling from the wider spread folds of the shirt front, nearly down to the middle coming open.

When your nails dragged naked skin, Namjoon stilled, then moaned and rolled his hips against you, making sure you could feel and had no denial about the wide cock testing the reliability of his fly.

“Wish you had your tie on..” You mumbled as your lips dragged up his cheek. You felt the plump there when Namjoon chuckled in a single grunt.

“I wanted you to have something better to grab onto.”

“Yeah?”

“Mnnnhm.” Namjoon’s fingers probed further between your legs, feeling skin cut deep by the diagonally bunched panty crotch.The wetness against air had your folds cooling enough.

If he kept touching you, he’d undo your entire mind. You might even cum on the spot. Unraveling here was a far cry from the safe and familiar shadows of your bedroom and an upgrade from nights spent smothering under the urge to give in. To touch yourself to a parade of images of this man.

Now it WAS reality: the pressure in the press of his fingertips against you. The way he spread you and the cotton crotch apart. Separated material from skin enough to tuck two long fingers deep, then curving them around to feel your front wall.

You shook and Namjoon giggled. Indulgently, fingers curiously beckoning. Your fist gripped on his shirt fell and you grabbed again at his shoulder, finding a hill of muscle, tight and sloping nicely. Your forearm belted across the back of his neck and nails sunk into heated skin along the other side, greeted by cords of muscle.

“There we go.. Don’t be afraid. You’ll need the leverage.”

Namjoon’s fingers sawed into you with more purpose and your wall sucked around them. When the digits slipped back and almost came out, you whined. When they sunk back in, your breath left.

As he worked your muscles loose with a steady thrust of his fingers, he studied your face. All your eyes could really focus on was the hazy outline of his hair and the rising shapes of his cheeks when he offered an easy smile.

Namjoon wasn’t an easy teacher but he made it so easy to lose focus now. To let your body weight fall down as your leg rose up and he guided that calf over his hip. Even his slacks were silky perfection against the delicate skin along the inside of one thigh.

He slowed to a stop, fingers halfway lodged into your warmth. Your head lolled and he aligned his mouth. Although you drank in the air with deep, slow breaths, right now you couldn’t breathe.

Namjoon’s broad chest pressed against you. The fingers eased all the way out and he brought them up, staring at the clinging wetness bridging both tips together, shuddering has he hummed through them.

“You’re such a good student.” Namjoon repeated. “It’s no exaggeration.” A bigger smile as Namjoon suckled the tip of the longer finger and his brows rose for a moment. He popped off and his tongue traced his lips until the shine was gone.

He took a quick look down between your bodies and grunted. Clearly he admired how your fronts fit together. Was it too much to imagine he’d fantasized about the way you’d fit along his body, the same way you’d done?

When Namjoon looked into your eyes again, you couldn’t see anything but the hedonism in those depths. If someone had a gun to your head, you couldn’t pry your attention away. Not if all your coworkers walked right into this hallway, right this very moment.

And saw you like a good little whore, leg hitched over this man’s hip. And his hand, right up your naked thigh, rising towards the other hip.

Namjoon grabbed the outside of your other ass cheek, forearm deep under your skirt, and pulled your flesh apart with a jerk of his chin.

“Other one. Up.”

“W..Where–” You began.

“Around my waist.” Namjoon’s voice sliced through the fog in your brain.

You bounced onto the ball of the other foot and Namjoon did the rest, gripping hard into your warm skin. Five divots sank in as he collected a handful of you, then pulled that thigh in place. And all with the barest change in the rounded shape of his bicep.

Your fingers stroked up the back of his scalp and Namjoon’s lids twitched, threatening to drop again. He peered at you, then inclined his head as his mouth brushed your own.

Your lips fell wide. The kiss wasn’t more than a pec. Your moan disappeared into his parting lips when they moved away enough.

“I want to give my student a gift.”

“You—”

“--don’t have to? I know. And maybe it’s wrong–all this. Me here, with you. What I was thinking when I saw you coming to my table. Before all of that–in the classroom.”

Your guts and lids felt heavy. Namjoon’s firmness was grinding so nicely against your mound. You clung on, fingers clutching the opposite wrist at his nape. Whatever it took to keep him this close and talking, you’d obey.

You’d listen, just like in class. Except this time you let that need show on your face–brows twisting up as Namjoon rolled himself firmer into you. The wall could handle it all, you reasoned.

“You could tell me what you want, but I think I know. I’m pretty smart.” He chuckled, then nibbled at your neck, sending your head one side. Namjoon nosed along, just below your ear.

You could only mewl—helpless, wanton little tart that you felt like. At the mercy of this man.You hadn’t counted on ending the night like THIS, when it’d started out with so much frustration and disappointment.

You loved the way his hair felt, curling through your fingers. The way his scent washed up from his collar as it came away from his neck at the back. Your eyes drank in the lines running down below, into the dark of his dress shirt spread tight over his back.

Clothing shuffled under your hovering ass as Namjoon fished around with a free hand there. He leaned enough against you to keep your back stationary. And the wall wasn’t going anywhere. It’d seen a few collisions over the years.

Blunt heat swept your folds as Namjoon spoke again, voice dipping. Then mouth too, hunting for your breast. Finding it through the material just as he slid into you. Whole and entirely with one driving stab of his hips.

He bottomed out and your world shrank. To say Namjoon filled you was underselling it. He spread your skin perfectly, stopping just at the first pinch of pain. But that pain melted into a buttery buzzing when he pulled back and thrust again with slow purpose.

It was all the testing he cared to do, and all the prep you really needed. As Namjoon fell into a focused pumping, he braced one palm into the wall under your arm. The other he cupped under your ass, lifting you just a little.

You’d never fucked like this, against a wall. Or felt so weightless as pressure revolved through you from below. Your pussy rippled and Namjoon cleaved through it, hushing his moan of enjoyment with face pressed between your breasts.

Your arms hugged around his head as you forgot the world again. Forgot you’d clocked out. Forgot the parking lot beyond the door at the far end of the hall.

Skin sweated as Namjoon exhaled more regularly. He was panting as his hips snapped. His length rocked in and out of you. While your limbs were feeling more and more loose, and your head lighter, your core was starting to tighten.

It gave a warning clamp and Namjoon faltered, then growled and turned his face up to you. You’d only seen this kind of intensity in his eyes talking about some topic in class that he was particularly obsessed with.

But it was amazing to be the focus of that now. To KNOW this was because of YOU. Your body and your sounds. You sex, squeezing Namjoon as he barreled through you effortlessly, shaking you like a leaf in a storm.

Your body tensed as another warning spasm seized your middle. Your eyes popped open as your arms circled his head tighter. Nearby, a framed painting danced as Namjoon gave a boisterous thrust.

“N..Namjoon” You whined, inhaling his scent. A cologne you’d know anywhere.

The cinnamon hint of his office–where he spent mornings, mid days and some evenings. You’d walked by there too many times, seeing that light on at odd hours or his silhouette darkening the frosted glass beyond, with his name carefully stenciled on one side.

“Yes…” He hissed. Another deep, aggroed thrust.

Your shoulders slammed into the wall. The painting danced again. Settled with a lingering sway.

Bliss washed through your mind, then raced down to your pussy. You knew the rush. The coldness in twin bolts. You were going to cum and it was like falling into a bottomless pit. Stumbling over it on your run away from such daring things.

Things a good student didn’t do with her professor.

Nails dug in again, this time feeling the hair line running just behind his ear. Namjoon tightened when you dragged flesh with an unabashedly whorish groan bubbling up.

“C…c…umming..” You rasped before your body melted down into his motion. The strength and stamina Namjoon had allowed him to hold firm, crushing you with his pelvis tightly smashed between your thighs.

Your belly shuddered as the high faded into uneven clenches. Your eyes rolled, searching through the dark. Picking up things along the way: ambient sounds of footsteps. Laughter.

Skin prickled under the clinging sections of your top, dampening from sweat.

Hairs on your arms stood when Namjoon’s head finally came back enough and he gazed at your lips. Taking the time to completely fuck into and out of you, Namjoon was moving again. His head tipped down as he looked up at you from under his lashes.

His brow dotted. Upper lip too. The sweat droplets stood against his neck. A trickle escaped down into the darkness of his open collar when he swallowed and his length dove into you again. The wall gave more protests: something rattled. Wood popped.

Another thump. Your eyes widened a little as the pleasure woke inside you again. You felt slick and limp but seeing the way he was so intent. He wasn’t done.

His teeth set as Namjoon forced words through. “Such a good girl.. What else do you want?”

He was a man on a mission, asking because there was something he saw in your eyes, that still lingered. A need that wasn’t quenched by one orgasm in a dark hallway.

When you didn’t answer, Namjoon barked, unconcerned that this wasn't a bedroom somewhere. It was his turn to forget the world and his place in it.

“Inside me.” Your lips quirked. Teacher's little whore had finally peeked her head out.. And you'd been waiting for this kind of moment most of all.

The steady pace that Namjoon employed before had changed. His upper body fell against you as he exhaled with a moan. His lower body drove harder. Swirling his hips, he drew in a deep breath and chewed his lip to buy more time. Like you, he seemed to know pain was a savior as much as a distraction when precious seconds counted.

Your eye contact only broke when his lids fluttered dangerously slow.

“God..” Your body jostled, mind dizzy in post orgasmic scramble. “..Say ‘Please’..” He was teasing you, grin half cocked.

“Please..” You played along, twisting the word breathlessly. Your body bounced harder. So did the frame. This time it was in danger of falling off–you were certain. But you were also as uncaring as you could be.

Right now it was all about Namjoon’s driving cock. Namjoon, close to you like this. It was YOUR day.

Your senses swirled, tipping you closer to another orgasm. Your thighs convulsed around his narrow waist. Tightened when he kissed your collarbone. He raked nails down the wall nearby, going quiet with a final, single thrust.

Your fingers circled his neck as Namjoon arched away from you, joined only where your hips met, his neck muscles as taut as steel cables.

Time passed enough you’d begun to focus again on all the small things that had easily faded into nothingness and the shadows beyond your horny mind and the restaurant’s limited lighting.

More lights went out from the other end of the hall. Footsteps drew closer. Your eyes and head snapped towards the sound. You gasped, hands sliding to the edges of both Namjoon’s shoulders. It was impressive, how long it took for that to happen.

There weren’t many boys OR men with shoulders that broad. And the dewy condition of Namjoon’s shirt told you he might have made it look easy, but it WAS work. He was still careful, letting you down onto your feet.

While he swept fingers under the skirt and sorted things in place, your eyes grew in size, fixed entirely on the darkened doorway at the far end. You could swear you saw movement in the shadows. Shapes of people, about to become tangible, and about to make you the talk of the place.

“You have to go.” You whispered fervently.

Namjoon brushed your skirt back over your thighs and reached around the back, doing the same over both cheeks. All things considered you were none the worse for wear.

“We.”

Namjoon stepped back, one hand outstretched and grin shining. Even with a light layer of sweat on the skin you could see, Namjoon still looked even more delectable than you ever managed. You hadn’t taken any post-sex selfies, but could bet the results wouldn’t look this good.

“No. YOU… Just…” Your cheeks rushed with warmth and your thighs trembled. You waved a hand when he reached for it.

Namjoon’s frown stilled you but he washed it away with a gentle smile. Like he hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps, Namjoon took a step closer. He didn’t have much of a fight, taking your wrist in one large hand this time.

“We..” He intoned with more purpose. This look dared you to defy this time, but you didn’t. Just like you, behind your desk during class hours, waiting. Silent and rapt.

Namjoon tugged you forward, pulling you along as he backed down the hall the other way. Mercifully going towards the door to the parking lot.

His back met the bar across the door and it popped open. The night sky came through the thin slice of the outside work revealed between the door and frame. With it came cool night air that your heat parched skin craved.

Namjoon’s hair rustled in the easy night breeze. He pulled again and you touched the door, feeling the cool metal, skin prickling.

“I’ll give you a ride back. We’re not quite done, though.”

“..We’re..not?” At the very least your coat was somewhere back there. You'd have to get that later tonight. Or..god help you, tomorrow morning leaving his place, if the birthday girl in you got ALL her wishes.

“No.”

Namjoon stepped entirely into the night outside. Cars dotted the lot opening up behind him as his dress shoes crunched over asphalt in another long step back. The night hadn’t been this nice when you’d arrived at the restaurant hours ago.

“You didn’t drive.” He glanced around and you watched his eyes roving the scenery around. It was hard to tell if he was counting cars, looking for his or just checking for the odd creep lurking past closing time.

Another weak flutter moved through your walls as you watched his eyes come back and settle on you. When he reached for you this time, he straightened. This was more like the confident man at the front of the classroom. The one you wanted to sit down for… Or even get on your knees.

“I’ve got a few more things to give you. You like cake? If it were my birthday, I’d be all over it.”

“I do..”

You didn’t tell him you’d planned on stealing a slice from the kitchen on your way out. It was perfectly acceptable that Namjoon threw a wrench in those plans.

He nodded and exhaled, throat working. Strong, warm fingers wrapped, all muscle and silk, around your entire palm and held tight. Your hips ached, signaling he’d left his mark.

“Good. Let’s get that sweet tooth sated, Dolly.”

“Then?” You almost tiptoed towards Namjoon’s looming form in the dark and he only turned when you were about to touch fronts again.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you followed him to the ends of campus, or the ends of the earth. You kind of had a ‘thing’ for this man. And he knew it now, if he’d ever NOT known it. If you thought about it, it’d be embarrassing how transparent it would look from the outside, to anyone else behaving like you’d done.

“..Then we can talk about more presents. Birthdays aren’t meant to be a one present affair.”

That was true, but you hadn’t hoped for much beyond an ill-gotten piece of cake or a card from your parents. That was probably waiting in the mail slot at home. ...Anything else was a bonus.

Namjoon was heading towards a particularly sleek looking sedan tucked into the corner most parking spot kitty corner from the back door.

You should have known. You’d seen his car too many times.

Watching him, lounged in the driver seat on cooler mornings, reading through a book, or waiting at the entrance of the campus staff parking as you waited for the crossing sign to change at the nearby intersection.

You had it BAD for him. And he was onto you. And maybe that was the best birthday gift of all.

Finally you smiled as your fingers found their way around Namjoon’s, winding delicately and squeezing in need. Almost..gratefully.

“Well then.. Happy birthday to me.”

#namjoon x yn #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #professor Namjoon x you #prof knj x reader #sexy professor joon #sexy professor namjoon #professor BTS: Namjoon #intelligent sexy teacher #teacher x student bts #knj is the professor #teacher kink #hot teacher namjoon #birthday fun

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ishouldbesleepin · 1 month ago

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#bts #bts bangtan boys #bts army #bangtan #bts kim namjoon #kim namjoon #bts rm #rm #so hot and sexy

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misbangtan · 3 months ago

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JUNGKOOK HOLY FCK 🔥

#jeon jungkook #btsedit #btsgif #run bts #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #btsgifs #min yoongi #park jimin #jungkook #jung hoseok #bts gif #bts x black reader #bts jungkook #so hot omg

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namjoonaaah · 2 years ago

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superior namjoon looks i think of ever so often — (1/?)

this particular dionysus joon = my achilles heel, and whoever was in charge of wardrobe that night, i hope your pillow stays cold and your coffee warm ‘cause this look is permanently imprinted on my retina

#namjoon #armysource #dailybts #dailybangtan #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #userbangtan #cyphernet #btsgif #btsedit #namjoongifs #bts #mine:gifs #superior namjoon looks #the sheer power of this whole look #the epitome of hot joon #i could talk about this for hours #and hours #not even sure if i'm looking respectfully tbh

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lucialauruce · 9 months ago

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Warnings: Fake friends/H•rd©ore sex/Age gap/ squirting/ maybe stalking..?

Currently imagining about Namjoon in an age of 30 as your neighbor while you're still 19 and your friends dared you to flirt with him and sleep with him within 24 hours so you accepted it as a challenge because you have a high ego that you can do it.

You go all with it, not wasting any time. You cooked, baked and even visits at his front door welcoming him as a warm friendly neighbor and pretending that you wanna see his garden behind his house because "you are" into gardening (even though you don't even know "how to do" gardening). You talked with him, telling him any gibberish you have, pretending that you like his garden and how he take care of it, but you didn't know even from the start he already knows what you want from him by just looking at your eyes and letting you talk in lies but he just laughed it off and let you be with him. You know to yourself that what you're doing can lead you to danger right? But who cares, you only live once? (You always think like that)

Not until midnight comes, you finally get into his pants, making out with your oldy handsome neighbor until both of you got inside his bedroom without pulling both off your lips off as you suddenly felt something strange but you just ignored it, thinking that it was "just" ruining the moment you're having right now. But then you heard a sound of a chain and then suddenly he tores off your clothes like a mad man and put you in all fours and tied you up with chains. Finally you have a time to look a round as you got your eyes widening and you realize you're so much in trouble. You saw your pictures on his wall in different angles and letters beside it as you turn in to your side, you saw a different types of chains and blindfolds as well as toys that who the fuck knows who and where he uses it. (you're not into hardcore sex because you know how painful and træumatic it is, but now you gotta deal with it because you have no other fucking choice. You're tide up in chains, on the bed in an awkward position as you heard the man chuckle behind you.

"I've been waiting for you for fucking knows how long, thank shits your friends brought you to me" That's when the puzzles sink into your brain. They fucking trick you so they can laugh their ass off for how dumb you are. They must know something you don't...

The night was silent but not inside the room you're currently in. You were crying mess, wanting to hold something for your dear life as you felt your back paining for shits know how long you've been in this position as the man on your back keep fucking you from behind without even stopping for a sec. That's when you realize you are really fucking doomed.

YOU KEEP moaning as you felt his cock hit your cervix every time he thrust as the man enjoys his view below him, seeing his cock disappearing in your hole, coating him around and you keep making a mess on his bed. You squirted 3 fucking times already as you felt another orgasm struck on you.

"Fuck...please..s-slow d-down" you cried and plead but this man don't think of even stopping. He thrust even more faster as you felt his bed could brake anytime.

He suddenly grab you neck, pulled you up into his chest as he holds your leg up, holding it in his arms as he fasten his thrust making you choke your own saliva.

"You want this y/n? Yeah? I'll shall give it to you hon" Fuck that voice. It'll just wanna make you cum more.

You moaned even louder as you felt another orgasm coming through you "s-stop.... p-please..cumming..." You whimper as you couldn't hold it anymore, you squirted hard on his bed as you cried off your sensitivity.

You groan as you felt him pulled out and push you on his bed harshly. You kept twitching under him but he just felt satisfied from what he just did.

You heard him mumbled breathlessly "I'm still not done to you sweetheart"

Guess no one can save you now....

That is a full blown blast, I'm kinda dizzy while writing this... anyways Thankyou for reading!

#namjoon x reader #namjoon #bts #bts smut #mature rp #smut #imagines #bts imagine #sfw agere #hot neighbor #daddy k!nk

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ikeuwnu · 6 days ago

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le sserafim (르세라핌) + bts (방탄소년단) 🎧

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spicyscenewriter · 25 days ago

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I wanna read this AGAIN!!!!

Park Jimin BTS fanfiction

Silk Sheets

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avocardorablegirl · 1 year ago

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Tattooist DongHwa (@.dx2ta2) Instagram Update | 231106

Posting this after thinking about it for a long time.

I think they are cool musician friends with passion and perseverance that I've seen for a decade.

I have known them since before their debut and have worked with the company and members, but unfortunately, I have not often seen them in their busy schedule.

Working with them had some big and small problems, but, Always cheering heart has never changed Among the many works I did with them, I'm posting a picture of Tito's work with Jimin.

Please only look at the bright side

#taehyung #kim namjoon #bts jimin #jiminie #jung hoseok #kim soekjin #kim taehyung #btsfunnymoments #jeon jungkook #jimin cute #jimintatto #jimin hot #bts sex #bts sexy #jimin sexy #bts smut

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yeh-kaali-kaali-ankhein · 2 years ago

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What are the imaginary scenarios your brain is coming up with after seeing this🌚🫣

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minxmut-cafe · 11 days ago

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HEXED HEARTS | PART 2

Pairing : Slytherin Jimin x Huffle puff Reader.

Word count : 18k

Authors note : HERE IS THE SECOND PART. This one's juicy and me likey ;).

Warning : smut, fluffy, comfort, penetration, PWP, oral sex, cunnilingus, intercourse. Kissing, making out.

PART 3

Synopsis :

__________________________________________________

The next morning, she was grumpy.

Not just because of the lack of sleep—though Merlin knew she’d tossed and turned for hours—but because she couldn’t stop thinking about last night.

More specifically, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The way he had actually apologized. The way he had looked at her—not with his usual teasing glint, but with something softer, something real. The way he had touched her hair before leaving, as if it were natural.

And most of all, the way he had not kissed her.

It was driving her insane.

So when she stomped into the Great Hall for breakfast, hair still slightly messy from sleep, she barely paid attention to where she was going—until she nearly crashed right into him.

Jimin caught her with ease, one hand braced against her shoulder, the other steadying her wrist.

"Whoa there, sweetheart," he murmured, lips quirking. "Missed me already?"

She scowled, shoving his hand off. "Not even remotely."

He just chuckled, looking infuriatingly well-rested. His robes were pristine, his tie slightly loosened, and his hair was swept back in that effortlessly cool way of his.

She hated him.

(And by hate, she meant really, really wanted to shove his stupid, handsome face against a wall and— No. No thinking about that.)

Jimin, of course, seemed fully aware of her flustered state. He leaned down slightly, lowering his voice.

"You look tired," he mused, eyes flickering over her face. "Something keep you up last night?"

Her entire body locked up.

She knew he was baiting her. She knew he was enjoying this. But damn it, her face still burned.

She grit her teeth. "Nothing you need to worry about."

Jimin smirked, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Shame," he murmured, straightening up. "And here I was, hoping you'd be dreaming of me."

She did not squeak.

(Okay, maybe she did, just a little.)

But before she could formulate an actual response—one that preferably did not involve her looking like a flustered mess—Jimin simply patted her head (like she was some kind of child, the nerve!) and strolled off toward the Slytherin table, whistling under his breath.

She stood there, seething.

This was going to be a long day.

She huffed, plopping down at the Hufflepuff table with an indignant pout.

A kiss. A kiss. Even a stupid little peck would’ve done.

After everything that had happened last night, he had the audacity to just walk away. Like it was nothing. Like she was nothing but an afterthought.

Her fingers clenched around her goblet of pumpkin juice.

Maybe it was the charm still messing with her. Maybe it was just Jimin messing with her. But she couldn't shake the feeling of wanting.

And the worst part?

She knew he knew.

The way he smirked, the way he lingered—like he was dangling something just out of reach, just to see if she’d snap.

She stabbed her fork into her pancakes, grumbling under her breath.

Stupid Jimin. Stupid smirks. Stupid lips. Stupid everything.

"You okay?"

She looked up to see one of her friends eyeing her warily.

"Fine," she muttered, shoving a bite of pancake into her mouth.

But across the Great Hall, Jimin caught her gaze just as she looked up.

And then, the absolute menace had the gall to wink.

Her fork clattered against her plate.

She was going to lose her mind.

She barely made it through breakfast without combusting. The nerve of that man. That wink. That stupid smirk. He was doing it on purpose.

And worse—it was working.

By the time she left the Great Hall, her heart was still hammering, her brain a scrambled mess of what ifs and why didn’t he just kiss me?!

And then, as if summoned by her sheer frustration, Jimin appeared beside her in the hallway, all casual confidence and effortless swagger.

“Did you enjoy breakfast, sweetheart?”

She didn’t even look at him. “Die.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “Feisty this morning, aren’t we?”

She snapped.

She turned on him, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest. “You’re evil. Evil.”

His brows lifted, amused. “Oh?”

“Yes!” she huffed. “You’re playing with me, and it’s cruel.”

Jimin tilted his head, as if considering. “Cruel?” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Would it be less cruel if I just…”

She froze as his fingers tilted her chin up, his face just inches from hers.

“…kissed you?”

Her breath caught.

Was he serious?

Jimin watched her, waiting. And for once, he wasn’t teasing. His grip was light, his expression unreadable.

Her lips parted slightly, heart pounding.

“…Yes,” she whispered. “It would.”

His thumb brushed against her jaw.

And then—

Nothing.

He pulled back, smirking. “Too bad.”

Her jaw dropped.

Jimin laughed, stepping away, and that was when she realized—he had played her again.

“Oh, you—!!” she fumed, but he was already retreating, hands in his pockets, looking so damn smug she wanted to hex him into next week.

“See you later, sweetheart,” he called over his shoulder.

She screamed internally.

No.

No more of this.

Next time, she was getting that damn kiss. Even if she had to hex it out of him.

The rest of the day was a disaster.

She couldn't focus in class. Every time she tried, her mind would betray her, dragging her back to that moment in the hallway. The way his fingers had tilted her chin. The way his voice had dropped like a secret meant only for her. The way—Merlin, she hated him.

And the worst part?

Jimin was everywhere.

In Potions, he took the seat beside her—despite there being plenty of open spots elsewhere—and spent the entire class looking at her. No words. No teasing. Just watching.

In Charms, he "accidentally" brushed his hand against hers while reaching for the same book.

During lunch, he strolled past the Hufflepuff table, trailing his fingers over the back of her chair as he passed.

And when she finally snapped and glared at him across the hall between classes, he just smirked.

He was taunting her.

And she was losing it.

By dinner, she had had enough.

She stormed up to him outside the Great Hall, grabbing his sleeve before she could chicken out.

Jimin blinked, looking down at her in mild surprise. "Well, hello there."

"Shut up," she hissed, dragging him into an empty corridor.

His brows lifted, but he let her—because of course he did. She was playing right into his hands, wasn't she?

The moment they were alone, she let go, crossing her arms. "Are you serious?"

Jimin leaned against the wall, the very picture of smugness. "About what, sweetheart?"

She hated how easily that pet name made her stomach flip.

"About this," she fumed, gesturing wildly. "You're driving me insane. And for what? For fun?"

Jimin tilted his head, pretending to think. "Maybe."

She nearly screamed.

"You're evil," she accused, poking his chest. "Evil."

His grin widened. "You said that this morning."

"Because it's still true!"

And then, before she could second-guess herself, she grabbed his stupid, smug face—and kissed him.

It was clumsy. Messy. A mix of frustration and desperation.

And he let her.

For exactly three seconds.

Then Jimin flipped them, pressing her against the wall so fast her breath hitched.

His hands pinned hers at her sides, and when he kissed her back, it was decisive. Slow. Deep. Like he had been waiting.

Her knees buckled.

Jimin chuckled against her lips, pulling back just enough to smirk.

“Finally,” he murmured. “I was starting to think I’d have to beg.”

She just gaped at him, completely breathless.

Oh.

Oh, she was so doomed.

She didn't even know how they ended up here.

One moment, she was shoving him, ready to yell at him for being the worst, and the next—

Her back hit the shelves of a very cramped storage room, hands tangled in his uniform as he devoured her.

It was dizzying, the way he kissed—like he was making up for lost time. His lips moved against hers with slow, infuriating precision, coaxing her into parting for him, melting for him.

"Jimin—" she whimpered, but the sound barely made it out before he swallowed it whole, pressing closer until she felt the solid weight of him against her.

Her knees shook.

He chuckled—cocky—but the sound was rough, like even he wasn't as in control as he wanted to be. "Look at you," he murmured, lips trailing lower, brushing over her jaw, her throat. "So sweet for me."

She wasn't sweet. She was furious.

Or at least—she had been. But now?

Now, she was trembling under his touch, gripping his robes like he might disappear if she let go.

"This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" Jimin purred, nipping at the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.

Her breath hitched.

He laughed. "You should’ve just asked, sweetheart."

She should have slapped him.

Instead, she gasped as he hoisted her up onto an old wooden table, slipping between her legs like he belonged there.

Her head spun.

He did belong there.

And that was the problem.

Because Jimin had always driven her insane. Had always teased her, tormented her, owned her reactions without even trying.

And now?

Now, he was looking at her like he might ruin her.

And worse—she wanted him to.

She was supposed to wait.

To ride the charm out.

But it was hard— so fuckin' hard

Why?

Because she wanted to ride him instead.

Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might leap out of her chest.

Jimin’s fingers traced slow, agonizing patterns along her thighs, his touch featherlight, teasing. Unfair.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement. “All flushed, trembling—” He grinned, tilting her chin up. “Still gonna pretend you don’t want this?”

She didn’t want this.

Or—she shouldn’t want this.

She should be pushing him away, telling him off, reminding herself that this was Jimin. Jimin, who had spent years making her life hell.

But then he squeezed her thighs, inching them apart, and she let out a soft, pitiful sound that made his smirk sharpen.

“Cute,” he cooed, almost mockingly. “You’re not even trying to resist, are you?”

Her face burned.

She should resist. But—

His hands slid higher, gripping her waist, pressing her flush against him, and suddenly, she couldn’t think at all.

Jimin leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “I can feel you shaking,” he whispered. “Are you nervous, sweetheart?”

She was.

And he loved it.

He nipped at her neck, soothing the bite with his tongue, and she whimpered, clutching his shoulders.

“J-Jimin—”

“Mmm?”

He didn’t stop. If anything, he got bolder, tilting her head back, tracing the column of her throat with his lips, his teeth, his tongue—ruining her.

And the worst part?

She was letting him.

No—she was encouraging him.

Clinging to him.

Arching into him.

Wanting more.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and he groaned, the sound sending a shockwave through her body.

Merlin, what was she doing?

And why did it feel so good?

Jimin felt her hesitation. The way she shivered in his grip, torn between wanting to push him away and pull him closer.

It made something dark and possessive coil inside him.

He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of her lips. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, voice rough. “And I will.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

She should say it.

Tell him to stop. Push him away. Run.

But—

Her fingers curled tighter into his robes.

And Jimin knew.

He smirked, lips brushing against hers. “That’s what I thought.”

Her breath hitched, and he devoured it, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was nothing short of starving.

She gasped into it, nails digging into his shoulders as he deepened the kiss, tilting her back against the table.

“Jimin—”

He hummed against her lips, hands everywhere—gripping her waist, squeezing her thighs, pulling her against him until there wasn’t an inch of space left between them.

It was too much.

It was not enough.

Her mind swam, overwhelmed by his scent, his heat, the way he kissed—like he wanted to own her. Consume her.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, instinctively pulling him closer.

Jimin groaned, head dropping to her shoulder. “Fuck,” he hissed. “You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart.”

She was trembling now.

Not just from the spell.

Not just from the heat pooling in her stomach.

But from the way he looked at her.

Like she was something he wanted to keep.

Something that belonged to him.

And the most terrifying part?

For the first time, she wasn’t sure if she minded.

Jimin barely gave her time to catch her breath before he was grabbing her wrist, dragging her through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts.

“Jimin—” she hissed, stumbling as he pulled her along. “Where are we—?”

“My room,” he muttered, barely sparing her a glance.

Her heart stopped.

“What?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t slow down.

Didn’t even hesitate.

Because now that he had her, now that he had felt her—soft, warm, willing—there was no chance in hell he was letting her go.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as he led her through the castle, taking turns she barely recognized—shortcuts she’d never known existed.

How many times had he done this?

And why did the thought of that make her stomach twist?

By the time they reached the entrance to the Slytherin dorms, she was dizzy—half from the speed, half from the way he was looking at her.

Dark. Hooded. Hungry.

“Jimin, we—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, pressing a finger to her lips as the door swung open. “Be a good girl and stay quiet, yeah?”

She swallowed hard.

He was insane.

This was insane.

They weren’t supposed to be here.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

And yet—

She didn’t stop him.

Didn’t fight him when he pulled her inside.

Didn’t protest when he kicked the door shut behind them, locking them in his room—alone.

The moment the latch clicked, he turned to her, eyes dark and unreadable.

And her stomach flipped.

“Jimin—”

“Come here,” he murmured, voice like velvet, coaxing, commanding.

And Merlin help her—she listened.

Jimin barely gave her time to catch her breath before he was grabbing her wrist, dragging her through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts.

“Jimin—” she hissed, stumbling as he pulled her along. “Where are we—?”

“My room,” he muttered, barely sparing her a glance.

Her heart stopped.

“What?”

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t slow down.

Didn’t even hesitate.

Because now that he had her, now that he had felt her—soft, warm, willing—there was no chance in hell he was letting her go.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as he led her through the castle, taking turns she barely recognized—shortcuts she’d never known existed.

How many times had he done this?

And why did the thought of that make her stomach twist?

By the time they reached the entrance to the Slytherin dorms, she was dizzy—half from the speed, half from the way he was looking at her.

Dark. Hooded. Hungry.

“Jimin, we—”

“Shhh,” he murmured, pressing a finger to her lips as the door swung open. “Be a good girl and stay quiet, yeah?”

She swallowed hard.

He was insane.

This was insane.

They weren’t supposed to be here.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

And yet—

She didn’t stop him.

Didn’t fight him when he pulled her inside.

Didn’t protest when he kicked the door shut behind them, locking them in his room—alone.

The moment the latch clicked, he turned to her, eyes dark and unreadable.

And her stomach flipped.

“Jimin—”

“Come here,” he murmured, voice like velvet, coaxing, commanding.

And Merlin help her—she listened.

She took a hesitant step forward, heart hammering against her ribs.

Jimin’s gaze devoured her, tracking every movement, every shaky breath, every flush of color in her cheeks.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

Her knees nearly buckled.

Something about the way he said it—low and teasing, like he was testing her—sent a sharp shiver down her spine.

She should be running.

Should be pushing him away.

But instead, she was inching closer, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Jimin smirked, like he could see her thoughts. “Are you nervous?”

She swallowed. Nodded.

“Cute.”

Her face burned.

He stepped forward, closing the space between them in a heartbeat. His hand came up, fingers brushing against her jaw, tilting her head back ever so slightly.

Their noses brushed.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured.

Her lips parted.

She should say yes.

She should.

But—

“…No.”

Jimin’s smirk vanished.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Didn’t even breathe.

Then—

“Good.”

And he kissed her.

It was nothing like before.

No teasing, no smirks, no taunting lilt in his voice.

Just heat. Desperation. Need.

His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, pressing her so close she could feel the steady, insistent thrum of his heartbeat against her own.

She melted into him, clutching at his robes, her head spinning.

Jimin groaned, tilting her back against the door, his lips trailing down her jaw, her throat, his teeth scraping against sensitive skin.

She whimpered.

That was all it took for him to lose it.

In one swift motion, he lifted her up, hands gripping her thighs as he carried her across the room, dropping her onto his bed.

Her breath caught.

He loomed over her, eyes dark, chest heaving.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, voice low and rough.

She hesitated.

Not because she didn’t want him.

But because—

“Will you still be nice to me after?” she whispered.

Jimin froze.

For a moment, something flickered across his face. Something unreadable.

Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Dumb girl,” he muttered. “I’m already too nice to you.”

And before she could question what that meant—

He ruined her.

She barely had time to process before she felt the cool leather of his belt wrapping around her wrists, securing them firmly to the headboard.

Her breath hitched.

“Jimin—”

“Shhh.” His fingers grazed her pulse, feeling how fast it was racing. He smirked. “Relax, sweetheart. You trust me, don’t you?”

Her stomach flipped.

Did she?

She shouldn’t.

He’d been nothing but cruel to her, teasing and tormenting her since day one. But then he protected her. He stayed close. He saw her bruises and took care of it.

And now…

Now he had her completely at his mercy.

Her lips parted, a protest forming on her tongue—but all that came out was a soft, shaky whimper.

Jimin chuckled, dark and amused. “Cute.”

She tugged against the restraint, testing it. Tightly secured. Her hands were trapped above her head, the scent of leather surrounding her, his scent surrounding her.

Panic and something far more dangerous coiled in her stomach.

“You wanted a kiss before,” Jimin murmured, brushing his nose along her jaw. “How about a few more?”

She gasped when his lips latched onto her throat, sucking slow, deliberate bruises into her skin, claiming her in ways she barely understood.

She was losing her mind.

And Jimin knew it.

“Look at you,” he murmured against her skin. “All tied up and helpless.” He licked over the fresh mark, lips trailing down. “Sweet little Hufflepuff. Do you still think I’m mean?”

Her breath hitched.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Jimin laughed.

Low. Rough. Dark.

“Good,” he murmured.

And then he devoured her.

Jimin took his time with her.

Kissing her everywhere—her cheeks, her throat, her collarbone—murmuring sweet, taunting little things against her skin.

“You’re trembling, sweetheart,” he mused, brushing his lips along her jaw. “Are you that desperate already?”

She whined, tugging helplessly against the belt restraining her wrists.

Jimin smirked, satisfied.

His hand trailed lower, fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin of her thighs before—

“Oh—”

Her head snapped back against the pillows, a high-pitched sob catching in her throat as his fingers slid inside her, slow and deep.

Jimin groaned, feeling just how warm, how tight, how completely ruined she already was.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, drinking in her dazed, wrecked expression. “You’re squeezing me so tight. Feels good, huh?”

She could only nod, gasping, her body trembling as he curled his fingers inside her, pressing against that perfect spot over and over and over—

Her thighs shook. Her toes curled.

“Jimin—Jimin, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he cooed, biting back a smirk. “Come on, sweetheart. Take it. You’re doing so good for me.”

She sobbed, hips rocking helplessly against his hand, chasing something she didn’t even know how to name.

Jimin groaned, watching her come apart, eyes dark and hungry.

“My pretty little Hufflepuff,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Then—

“Now let’s see how much more you can take.”

She barely had time to catch her breath before Jimin was moving.

Swift. Decisive.

She blinked, dazed, watching as he reached down, fingers curling around the waistband of her soaked panties—

“Wha—Jimin, wait—”

But he yanked them down, slow and deliberate, letting the cool air hit her over-sensitive skin.

She gasped, flinching.

Jimin smirked. “So sensitive,” he murmured, amused. Then, before she could even think of protesting—

He balled up the damp fabric and stuffed it into her mouth.

Her eyes flew wide.

The muffled sound of her shock only made Jimin’s smirk grow.

“Shhh,” he cooed, pressing a finger to his lips. “You wouldn’t want to get caught, would you?”

Her whole body burned—embarrassment, frustration, arousal.

She shook her head, whining softly.

Jimin’s gaze darkened.

“Good girl.”

And then—

He dove between her thighs.

She screamed, back arching off the mattress, the sound muffled by the panties in her mouth.

Jimin groaned against her, tongue licking into her like he was starving. Like she was his last meal.

She sobbed, thighs trembling as he devoured her, dragging her deeper and deeper into a haze of heat, need, and helpless pleasure.

Her fingers curled into fists, pulling at the restraints—helpless.

Jimin ate it up.

“You taste so sweet, baby,” he groaned, voice muffled against her. “So fucking sweet.”

She could only whimper, teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Jimin felt her thighs start to tense, the trembling getting worse, and—

He sucked on her sensitive bud, fingers digging into her hips, pinning her down—

And she broke.

Blissed-out sobs muffled by the fabric in her mouth, her whole body shaking as pleasure crashed over her, wave after wave after wave.

Jimin didn’t stop. Not until she was twitching, overstimulated, and completely wrecked beneath him.

Only then did he pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking down at her with a smirk.

“My dumb little Hufflepuff,” he murmured, fingers brushing over her trembling thighs.

Then, reaching up—

He pulled the soaked fabric from her mouth, tossing it aside.

She gasped for air, dazed and ruined, eyes glassy as they met his.

Jimin smirked.

“Ready for more?”

Her whole body shuddered as Jimin finally, finally pressed against her entrance.

Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut as he teased her—dragging his tip along her soaked folds, coating himself in her arousal but refusing to push in just yet.

“Jimin,” she whimpered, writhing beneath him, wrists still tied to the headboard, leaving her completely at his mercy.

He hummed, watching her squirm. “What is it, sweetheart?”

She pouted, tugging at her restraints. “Please—”

“Please, what?” His voice was maddeningly calm, his smirk downright wicked.

Her cheeks burned. She knew what he wanted.

“Please…” she bit her lip, looking away, voice barely above a whisper. “Need you…”

Jimin groaned, low and deep, something dark flashing in his eyes.

And then—

He snapped his hips forward.

Her eyes flew open—then immediately rolled back, her mouth falling open in a soundless moan.

Oh, fuck.

She swore she saw Merlin himself in that moment, her whole body going rigid as Jimin sank into her inch by torturous inch, stretching her in ways she never even imagined.

Jimin let out a guttural groan, head dropping against her shoulder as he bottomed out, feeling her squeeze around him like a damn vice.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, hands gripping her hips, fighting the urge to ruin her then and there.

She was shaking, toes curling, wrists tugging at the belt, completely overwhelmed.

Jimin pressed a kiss to her jaw, his voice a rough whisper—

“Breathe, baby.”

She gasped, chest rising and falling, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

Jimin smirked.

“There you go,” he murmured, rolling his hips just the slightest bit—testing. Teasing.

She whimpered, legs trembling.

Jimin groaned, his restraint snapping as he gripped her thighs, spreading her wide—

“Now,” he growled, voice dripping with sin. “Let’s see if I can fuck you dumb enough to forget about that damn charm.”

Jimin ruined her.

Utterly. Completely.

Every sharp thrust, every roll of his hips sent her spiraling deeper into a mind-numbing haze. Her moans turned to whimpers, then to broken sobs, then—

Nothing.

Just a dazed, helpless little thing beneath him, eyes unfocused, mouth hanging open—no words, no thoughts, just wrecked.

Jimin loved it.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Where’d that pretty little voice go, sweetheart?”

She blinked up at him, dazed and trembling, lips moving—but no sound came out.

Jimin smirked.

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, dark amusement lacing his tone. “Did I fuck you stupid?”

A choked sob was all she managed, tears clinging to her lashes.

He chuckled, absolutely thrilled.

“Well, I did say I’d fuck that charm out of you,” he murmured, leaning in to nip at her ear. “Looks like I fucked your brain out, too.”

Her entire body shuddered, arms trembling where they were still bound to the headboard, too weak to even tug at them anymore.

Jimin groaned at the sight. Possessed by it.

He wasn’t done. Not even close.

So he gripped her hips, planted his feet, and—

He pounded into her.

Relentless. Unforgiving.

Her back arched off the bed, lips forming a silent scream, completely lost in the pleasure, unable to do anything but take it.

Jimin growled, his hand snaking between them to rub at her overstimulated bud—

And she broke.

A sharp, soundless cry left her lips as her body convulsed, waves of white-hot pleasure crashing over her so violently that her mind completely blanked.

Jimin cursed, thrusts turning sloppy as he followed right after, spilling inside her with a deep, satisfied groan.

Silence followed.

Just heavy breathing, tangled limbs, sweat-dampened sheets.

Jimin pressed a lazy kiss to her forehead, smirking against her skin.

“You good, baby?”

Nothing.

He pulled back—

Only to find her still staring at the ceiling, completely out of it.

Jimin chuckled, utterly smug.

Jimin ran a hand through his sweat-damp hair, chest still heaving as he looked down at her.

She was gone. Completely wrecked.

Her lips were parted, breath coming in soft little pants, eyes glassy and unfocused. She looked like she didn’t even know where she was anymore.

Jimin smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Hey, baby,” he murmured. “Still with me?”

Nothing.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Damn, I really did a number on you, huh?”

Still, no response. Just the soft rise and fall of her chest, her body limp and boneless beneath him.

He shifted, gently untying her wrists from the headboard, rubbing soothing circles into the red marks his belt had left behind. She let out the faintest whimper but didn’t move, just blinking slowly like her brain was trying—and failing—to catch up.

Jimin found it adorable

But then, his amusement turned to concern.

She hadn’t spoken in—Merlin, how long had it been?

He cupped her cheek, tilting her face toward him. “Baby,” he tried again, softer this time. “Say something.”

She blinked. Opened her mouth—

And nothing came out.

Jimin’s stomach dropped.

His smirk vanished. “Wait.” He leaned in, studying her dazed expression. “You can still talk, right?”

She swallowed, furrowed her brows like she was concentrating—

And then let out the most pathetic, breathy little sound.

Jimin’s dick twitched. Oh, fuck.

She looked absolutely fragile, all flushed and teary-eyed and so thoroughly fucked out that she forgot how to speak.

His mind raced. Should he be worried? Should he apologize? Should he—

She suddenly pouted, eyes wet with frustration.

Jimin groaned, half in amusement, half in actual agony.

“Baby,” he rasped, brushing his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “Don’t look at me like that.”

She whimpered.

Jimin swore under his breath, pressing his forehead to hers, trying to breathe. “Fuck. You are so cute. This is actually dangerous.”

She buried her face in his chest with a huff, frustrated at herself for being this far gone.

Jimin just laughed, stroking her hair.

“Alright, princess,” he mused, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Looks like I fucked you speechless. Let’s get you cleaned up before I make it worse.”

Jimin sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed his wand and summoned a warm, damp towel.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, gently parting her trembling thighs.

She let out a soft, breathy whimper as he carefully wiped her down, her oversensitive body twitching with every stroke.

“Shhh,” he soothed, pressing a lingering kiss to her knee. “I know, baby. I got you.”

She made a small, pitiful sound and covered her face with her hands, clearly still too out of it to function properly.

Jimin grinned.

Merlin, he loved this.

#bts smut #bts x reader #park jimin #jimin smut #fluff #namjoon #bts army #bts jin #bts jungkook #fantasy #so fucking hot #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #pwp fics

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