The scent of jasmine incense was a lie in the air every morning. It was meant to conjure mystery, to weave an aura of ancient wisdom around the cramped, stuffy velvet confines of your tent. In reality, it just covered up the smell of old canvas and the faint, coppery tang. You sat at your little round table, the crystal ball in front of you polished to a high sheen that reflected nothing but your own bored face.
You were good at your job. The locals lined up, clutching crumpled bills and desperate hopes. They wanted to hear about tall, dark strangers, about inheritances from uncles they didn't know they had, about love. Always love. You gave them what they wanted with a practiced, smoky whisper and a vague gesture at the lines on their palms. They left convinced they’d touched the supernatural, never realizing the only real magic you possessed was an uncanny ability to read the wear on a wedding ring or the desperation in a pair of drugstore heels.
But you knew the truth. You knew it wasn't just a knack for cold reading. The shadows in the corners of your tent moved when your back was turned. The tea leaves in your cup sometimes spelled out words you didn't put there. You kept your head down, just like the contortionist who sometimes blinked with vertical pupils when he thought nobody was looking, or the roustabout who lifted the iron tent stakes with one hand and a grunt that shook the earth.
You were part of the machine, but you weren't of it. Not really.
And then there was him. Julian the Illusionist. Golden boy. Stage lights loved him. He would stride out in his sequined tailcoat, all white teeth and slicked-back hair, and make doves appear from the very air you breathed. His assistant, Seraphina, with her legs that went on for days and her sparkly, skintight leotard, would smile and hand him the props. You’d seen them behind the ticket booth last night, his hand on the small of her bare back, his lips at her ear, sharing a secret that wasn't meant for the fortune teller in the dusty tent.
He got to stand in the light, creating miracles for applause. You got to sit in the gloom, reassuring farmers' wives that their husbands weren't cheating (they usually were).
Fed up. That was the only way to describe the feeling that boiled over in your chest that evening. You’d just finished reading for a woman who cried because you told her she’d meet a man with a J name. You’d plucked it out of thin air. The incense was giving you a headache. You wanted more. You wanted to see the real magic, not the tawdry, sequined show for the townies.
You slipped out of your tent, the heavy flap falling shut behind you with a soft whump. Dusk was falling, and the midway was empty as the crowd funneled into the Big Top for Julian's finale. The lights flickered, and for a moment, the path between the performers' quarters and the back lot seemed longer, darker, than it had any right to be.
There was a tent you weren't supposed to enter. Everyone knew it. It was black, made of a material that drank the light, tucked away behind the animal pens where the tigers never roared and the horses bowed without a command. It was the Ringmaster’s tent.
You pushed the flap aside and stepped in.
It was empty. Just black silk draping the walls and a single, heavy wooden chair in the center. But the air was thick, buzzing with a pressure that made your ears pop. You felt watched, assessed, and found wanting all at once. You felt gooseflesh on your skin. You backed out immediately, your heart hammering against your ribs. Stupid. Stupid, stupid girl.
You stumbled out into the purple twilight and a large shadow fell over you, blotting out the last of the dying sun.
You didn't have to turn around. You knew.
“My sweet little seer,” a voice crooned from behind you. It was velvety and soft, like the whisper of a knife being drawn from a sheath. It was a voice that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, a sound that lived in the same frequency as the moving shadows. “Wandering where little lambs ought not to wander.”
You froze. No one looked at the Ringmaster’s face. His top hat was always pulled low, his collar always high. All you ever saw was the immaculate cut of his coat and the long, spidery elegance of his gloved fingers. But his presence was immense. He was tall, impossibly slim, and he radiated a cold that felt like the absence of hope.
“I’m not angry, pet,” he continued, and you felt the warmth of his breath on the shell of your ear. He was standing directly behind you, so close the fine wool of his coat brushed your bare arm. “But there are rules. Ancient ones. This circus runs on the tracks of my will, and those tracks do not lead into that tent without my permission.”
A hand, gloveless now, settled on your lower back. The touch was startlingly warm against the chill of the evening. He rubbed a slow, soothing circle over the fabric of your shawl.
“You were looking for a different kind of magic, weren't you? Tired of tea leaves and tears. Tired of watching the light shine on someone else.”
His hand slid down, moving with a languid, proprietary confidence over the curve of your hip until it cupped the swell of your backside. He squeezed gently, the pressure firm and undeniable. You gasped, a tiny sound lost in the vastness of the night.
“I have always thought it a terrible shame,” he whispered, his lips brushing the delicate skin of your earlobe before he pressed a soft, chaste kiss there. “That you cannot do practical magic. That glorious, earthy shape of yours…you’d look divine in one of those little assistant’s dresses. All sequins and vulnerability.”
His other hand came up to rest on your shoulder, steadying you. “But then again, who would believe a woman with her tits out has wisdom? No, the draping shawls and the modest necklines serve a purpose. They sell the lie of integrity.”
He chuckled, a low, rich sound that vibrated against your spine. “You’ve always been my favorite, you know. The one who pretends the hardest not to see.”
Then the pretense of gentle seduction vanished. His hands moved with swift, undeniable purpose, pulling at the ties of your skirt, pushing the heavy fabric of your blouse out of the way. He bent you forward, your palms landing flat against the rough canvas of a nearby supply wagon. The wood was cold and splintery under your fingers.
He didn't ask. He simply took. And as he pushed inside you from behind, a long, guttural groan escaped his throat. “Yes,” he hissed. “There she is.”
The pleasure was sharp, a blinding intrusion of sensation that drove the air from your lungs. But then it changed. He was enjoying himself, a rhythmic, deep, and possessive claiming. But the fullness became...more. It was a pressure that defied anatomy, a stretching that bordered on impossible.
You forced your eyes open, your vision blurry with unshed tears of shock and a dark, shameful pleasure.
His shadow was cast against the wagon in front of you. And it was growing. Lengthening. Stretching up and up, the silhouette of the slim man in the top hat distorting into something vast and ancient. And inside you, he was growing too, thickening and lengthening to match the monstrous scale of the shadow he cast. You cried out, a strangled sound of fear and overwhelming fullness as he filled you past any human limit.
“Shhh,” he breathed against your hair, his voice still that soft, velvety croon, even as his body pushed the boundaries of reality. “You wanted the real magic. Take it.”
He finished with a sound like the ground splitting open, a deep, resonant groan that seemed to shake the very stars above you. He held himself there, buried impossibly deep, for a long, shuddering moment before slowly, carefully, withdrawing. The pressure ebbed, leaving you empty and trembling.
He was human-sized again when he righted your clothes with gentle, almost apologetic tugs. He smoothed the hair back from your damp forehead.
“There shall be no unwanted consequences,” he murmured, his voice returning to that gentle, frightening whisper. “Not unless I will it. And I haven't decided yet if I will.”
He was gone then, melting back into the shadows between the tents as if he'd never been there at all. You stood there, shaking, your legs barely able to hold you. The air smelled like ozone and damp earth.
You walked back to your tent on numb feet, expecting the familiar cramped gloom and the smell of jasmine lies.
But when you pushed the flap aside, you stopped dead.
The space inside was three times the size it should have been. Rich, crimson velvet draped the walls instead of faded burlap. The single rickety table was gone, replaced by a heavy, carved mahogany desk upon which rested a true crystal ball, one that swirled with an internal, smoky light all its own. In the corner sat a chaise lounge upholstered in gold silk.
The air didn't smell like cheap incense anymore. It smelled like night-blooming flowers and something else, wild and unfathomably old.
You were his favorite. And now, the tent reflected it.
a/n: My inbox and messages are open for commissions. You can also donate on Ko-fi, your support helps me write more: Ko-fi
Summary: Soobin wins his first solo music show award and gets a special reward from you.
Word Count: 1842
The monitor shows Soobin excitedly accepting his award for his first solo release, Wishlist. His real smile is shining through and your stomach flutters. You are so proud of Soobin. He has been working tirelessly for months preparing for his solo debut. He deserves a night of relaxation.
He whoops when he enters the room and his laugh echoes through the room. The rest of the Tomorrow x Together members surround him in a group hug. Soobin meets your eye over their shoulders and the plan formulating in your mind must be visible on your face because a different kind of excitement comes to his face for the slightest moment.
“Taehyun and Kai, you have a joint shoot at the company as soon as we leave here. Yeonjun and Beomgyu you two have a fitting for an upcoming variety show then vocal lessons.” You say when they turn back to you. Some of those things could have waited but as their manager you can rearrange to suit your needs. Those schedules should keep them out of the dorm for a few hours. Long enough to treat Soobin. “Soobin you are clear to go home.”
The other boys groan but follow their protocol team towards the exits. Soobin hangs by your side raising an eyebrow at you without a word.
“Keep your makeup on.” You say leaning close to his ear so no one else will hear. “You look so pretty.”
His face turns red as he stutters trying to form a coherent sentence. Soobin doesn’t quite get there and you giggle. He follows right behind you as you walk towards the exit, bidding the music show staff goodbye.
“Noona, are you coming back to the dorm with me?” Soobin asks when you sit beside him in the van.
“Yes, we are going to celebrate your first win.” You say with a cheeky smile.
Soobin’s face flames red again and you can see the way his brain is making up scenarios by the face he makes. He’s not good at hiding his facial expressions with you. The rest of the ride back to the dorm is quiet, but Soobin is twitching with anticipation.
Once the two of you are behind the closed door of the boys dorm, you catch Soobin’s chin between your fingers. He stares down at you with needy eyes and you purse your lips inviting him to kiss you. Soobin doesn’t waste a second leaning down further to connect your lips together. He isn’t gentle, using one of his large hands to pull you closer by the small of your back. For a few minutes you let him do as he pleases, deepening the kiss until your tongues are desperately licking into each other's mouths wanting more.
“Put on something pretty, baby. I’ll be there in a minute.” You say when you finally pull away.
“Yes, Noona.” He says softly, turning to walk to his bedroom.
While Soobin is changing you retrieve the toys you need from the locked box in the back of their coat closet. You are fairly sure the members know what is in the box but no one has ever said anything. If they wanted to play they could ask.
With everything you need you walk into Soobin’s room. You place the toys on the corner of the bed before looking at the beautiful man lying on bed. Soobin is lying on his stomach with his plump ass sticking up in the air. He is wearing a soft pink harness with a rose gold ring in the middle and matching panties with the slightest frill at the side. The smokey eye his makeup artist gave him is only adding to the overall sexiness of the scene in front of you.
“Don’t you look pretty, baby.” You comment letting your eyes sweep over his form. He sits up putting his feet under his bare ass and spreading his knees wider. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Did I do good, Noona?” He asks, pushing his lips into a pout and leaning forward.
You begin removing your clothes until you are left in just an oversized button up shirt and your underwear. Soobin’s eager eyes watch each movement but he doesn’t move waiting for your word.
“So good, Soobin.” You lean in, taking his face between your hands. His cock is already straining against the thin material of his panties. “You did so well.”
You release his face and sit near the head of the bed letting your back rest against the headboard. From the top drawer of Soobin’s bedside table you grab a half empty bottle of lube. You pat your thighs calling your pretty boy to sit. His dimples appear as he smiles.
Soobin straddles your thighs and you can feel his cock poking your stomach. You stroke him slowly over his panties. He draws in a sharp breath steadying himself on your shoulders. You release his cock and let your hands drag up and down his fit body. He grinds his cock against your stomach wanting more friction.
You hold two fingers to Soobin’s mouth and his tongue snakes out to cover them in his saliva. He leans his head closer and sucks your digits into his mouth. You smack his fat ass with your other hand. When your fingers are dripping with his spit you trace his pretty hole pulling whimpers from his full lips.
He pushes against your fingers and you let him sink down, after moving the string of his thong to the side. His face relaxes elated to be getting what he wants from you so quickly. His perky nipple begs to be taken into your mouth. Your tongue laps over the bud while Soobin uses your shoulders as leverage to ride your fingers. Nothing compares to the feeling of pleasing Soobin. The sound of his soft moans filling the air just for you is nearly indescribable.
You push him up onto his knees hovering over you and slide down until his clothed cock is in front of your face. With one hand you continue to finger Soobin and with the other you pull his panties down just enough so you can see his full length.
“Do you want me to suck your cock, baby?”
“Yes, Noona. Please suck my cock.” Soobin begs looking into your eyes. You blow cool air over his cock and his hips twitch. “I’ve been such a good boy.”
“Mmm.” You hum then plant a closed mouth kiss to the tip of his cock.
You open your mouth letting your tongue fall out. With the fingers that are inside of Soobin you pull him closer guiding his cock onto your waiting tongue. Soobin braces himself against the wall looking down at you as you close your mouth around his cock. Each movement you make is slow and deliberate. Giving Soobin the most possible pleasure is your goal for tonight. You squeeze his ass with your free hand loving that your small hand can not fully grasp it.
Your tongue swirls around his tip and Soobin is letting every breathy moan out knowing his members are still at the company. You continue fingering him and sucking him off until you are sure he’s about to cum, but you don’t let him. Not yet.
“Noonaaaa.” He whines when you pull away from him. “I was so close.”
“I know, baby.” You brush his hair away from his forehead pulling him in for a brief kiss. When you pull away you continue. “Lie down. I promise I’ll make this worth it.”
He lies back putting a pillow under his head and one under his ass. He pulls off his panties, throwing them to the side of the room. One of his large hands wraps loosely around his cock and you watch him as you get off the bed. Usually, you wouldn’t allow him to touch himself, but this is supposed to be about him.
You remove your shirt revealing a black lace bra and matching panties. Soobin’s eyes never leave you as you secure the strap that he bought you for your birthday last year. Or rather that he made. He got a mold of his cock made so you never have to be without him. He quite likes being fucked with his own cock which you aren’t sure was his intention when he was doing that.
Soobin hands you the bottle of lube when you kneel between his strong legs. You let your fingers trace over the divots of his abs while you coat the dildo with lube. With one hand you reach behind you to pick up the other toy you retrieved from the special box in the closet.
You click the vibrating wand and hold it to the tip of Soobin’s cock. He immediately calls out your name and covers his face with his big hands. You slip inside his tight hole with little resistance and he gasps. With slow strokes you push in and out of him savoring the way his eyebrows are scrunching up and how his lips are slightly parted.
You trail the wand down the length of his cock and use your other hand to brush over his sensitive nipples.
“More, please.” Soobin whines, catching your hand in his. “Faster, I can take it!”
“Okay, take this.” You hand him the vibrating wand and he holds it against his cock.
You hook your arms under his knees and push them towards his chest giving you a better angle. You grip his thighs as you thrust into him with much more force than before. You do exactly as he asks, pounding into his tight ass much quicker than before. A near constant stream of pretty sounds are gracing your ears and that only encourages you further.
He looks damn near ethereal begging for you to fuck him harder with the mold of his own cock. You lean down thrusting as deep as you can while you savor the feeling of his soft lips pressed against your own. He pulls away moaning in your ear as he pulls the vibrator away from his cock. Soobin turns it off, putting it to the side.
“Can I cum please, Noona?” He asks with pleading eyes.
Instead of answering you tightly grip his cock and stroke in time with the thrust of your hips. He moans your name loader and loader until you can tell he’s on the verge of tears.
“Cum for me baby.” Soobin arches off the bed into your hand and you don’t slow your pace until his cum is coating your hand and his stomach. His legs are shaking with his pleasure when you pull out. It’s been awhile since he was able to be this free. “You did so well for me. You’re such a good boy.”
You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead before walking to the bathroom. Once Soobin is cleaned up he rests his head against your chest. It takes only minutes before he is fast asleep.
Summary: You’re vampire Jimin’s donor, but he doesn’t feed like other vampires, he needs something first.
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 2054
Warning: Oral, dry humping
A/N: Yet another repost from my old blog
Jimin was not a normal vampire, you were not a normal ‘donor’, and this was not a normal vampire-donor relationship. If you could even call vampires and their ‘blood donors’ normal.
Jimin had a more intimate way of feeding off you. Ever since you were approached with the offer of becoming the donor of Jimin, you were told that he had particular feeding habits, though they did not tell what it was. And despite the not knowing bothering you, they were able to persuade you with a handsome price that was too good to pass up. You would be able to pay for your schooling and graduate debt free!
See it was rare when a vampire could find someone compatible enough to become a permanent blood bag, someone, whose blood could always be what they need, and as a K-pop idol, feeding off random strangers would be far too risky. So when Jimin happened across you, your smell so alluring and hypnotic, he knew you would be his.
After you had agreed to the terms they took you over to BigHit where you were asked a few questions and made to sign a contract that stated ‘Y/N will be Jimin’s donor for a minimum of one year, during that time Y/N is not permitted to speak of the goings-on of BTS or BigHit or how Y/N has come to know them nor is she allowed to speak the truth of her relationship with BTS, specifically regarding Jimin. At the end of the year, the contract may be renewed if both parties are willing. If at the end of her one-year agreement she wishes to terminate the relationship, she may do so.’ But the one part that got you was it had said you weren’t allowed to have any close physical relationship with anyone outside of Jimin because the relationship between a donor and a vampire is very intense and often times vampires become possessive of their donors. I guess that’s supposed to mean no boyfriend and no sex. But what could you do? The offer was too good to pass up.
So, you signed on the dotted line, successfully selling your Seoul (I couldn’t resist). It shocked you though when they took your information and told you they would be in contact within the week when it was time for your training. It made you wonder just what this training might entail.
It was a lazy Saturday, the afternoon sun was peering into your bedroom, shining in your eyes, it was the only reason you woke up in time to hear your phone ringing. Grumbling something about the stupid sun and the stupid people who decided to call you, you blindly groped for your phone, putting it up to your ear.
“Hello?” You mumbled.
“Yes, hello. Miss. Y/N Y/L/N?” The person on the other end inquired.
“Yeah, that’s me. What’s this about?”
“This is Mr Kim Ji-Hoon from BigHit calling to inform you that your training is to start today promptly at 2:00 pm. Will that be a problem?”
Great, they don’t even have the courtesy to give notice a day in advance. “That will be fine.”
Quickly asking for the location and ending the call, you rushed up from your bed to grab a quick shower and get ready. You wanted to look your best, but you didn’t understand why that was. You didn’t dwell on it though.
The walk to where your training would take place was short, but it was still long enough for your nerves to kick in. So by the time you got there you were freaking out. Walking into the huge, stark white room filled with 10 or so other people, your hands sweating profusely. It wasn’t until they began the training that you actually calmed down.
The training, in fact, wasn’t that scary. It was more of a lesson, really. You sat in desks with Mr Kim Ji-Hoon, a kind-looking elderly man at the front, telling you all there is to know about vampires and how they feed. You learned that they weren’t killers who couldn’t control their hunger, but for the most part, they were kind. They feed on either your wrist or a small part of your skin near the collarbone, but they do not feed on or near any major veins, they start by biting lightly to puncture exposed your skin and gently sucking. You were even told that it was not a painful process, but extremely pleasurable for both the vampire and the donor. They only take about a pint, the same amount that people donate so it would not affect you greatly. Mr Kim warned everyone, however, that vampires are fiercely possessive and territorial, but this you were already told about.
You felt enlightened by the time you left. You had learned a great deal and you no longer felt nervous. Well there was one thing you felt nervous about and that was Jimin’s ‘special’ way of feeding, this not knowing was hard to deal with.
They called you that very same day to ask you to come in the next day for your very first feeding with Jimin. You wanted to say no, but it was too late for that, the contract had already been signed and you were not the type of girl to break your word. Safe to say, walking in BigHit that morning, you were a bit on edge.
Inside, it was a lot less glamorous than expected, but it still gave off an intimidating ambience. Mr Kim Ji- Hoon was there once again, he greeted you and from there took you to a small room with a brown leather couch pushed against the wall. He handed you a glass of water and left. You were alone.
You were lost in thought until you heard the sound of a door creak. Whipping your head up to look, you were stunned when the most handsome man you had ever seen walked in. He smiled, and his whole face seemed to smile with him, then he walked over and plopped next to you, giving you a whiff of his intoxicating and masculine scent.
You were still gaping when he introduced himself. “Hello, I’m Park Jimin.”
“I’m Y-Y/N Y/L/N,” you stuttered.
He laughed, “I know who you are. You’re my donor. Have they told you already about my peculiar feeding habits?”
“They told me you don’t feed like a normal vampire, but they didn’t elaborate.”
“Typical,” he sighed. You two sat in silence for a moment. He seemed to be contemplating something.
Finally, he turned to look at you when you said; “aren’t you gonna… Uhm…” you gestured to your neck, “feed?” The last part coming out a bit squeaky and you mentally scolded yourself.
Slowly, a grin formed on his face and then he burst out laughing. “Wow. How excited you sound,” he said when he finally got a hold of himself. “But no. Not just yet. There is something I have to do before I am capable of feeding. Despite how good you smell.”
You blushed a deep red. Then he continued; “You have to trust me, okay?”
You nodded. “First I need to know a few things. Tell me, Y/N, what’s the farthest you’ve ever been with someone?”
You were frozen, unmoving, staring into his dark brown eyes. “I haven’t,” you managed to whisper out.
“You’re a virgin?” He stared at you with wide eyes.
You nodded.
“You’ve never done oral?”
You shook your head no.
“Have you never been kissed?”
Again, you shook your head no. Completely unaware of how this had anything to do with being Jimin’s donor.
As if he read your mind, he told you; “as you know, feeding is an intimate act and well, the way I feed, the way I have to feed, is more intimate than your regular vampire… I need to eat you out.”
Your mouth fell open in shock and you both just sat there, staring at each other, you with your mouth open, and Jimin with a slightly guilty expression on his face.
“I’ll take it slow for now,” he promised.
You didn’t move or say anything, so he slowly leaned forward and pecked your lips. It was brief and chaste, but you felt your blood roaring in your ears. Then he leaned in once more, moving his lips against yours, slowly, methodically. Suddenly you were aware you were on your back and Jimin was hovering over top of you, he gripped your waist tightly causing you to gasp and giving him entrance to slip his tongue inside your mouth, but you didn’t care anymore, you reached your hands up to his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his thick hair. He picked up his speed, the kiss turning heated, he quickly gained dominance as his hot tongue explored your mouth.
His hands slid up your shirt, stroking the skin there for a moment before he moved to your jeans, unbuttoning them. He bit your lip and tugging roughly, then he pressed his hot mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin there, you moaned at his ministrations and arched your neck to the side to give him better access.
He teasingly kissed down your body, stopping at the waistband of your jeans, he peered up at you through his lashes, eyes black with lust, he smirked, then in one quick motion he roughly ripped your jeans off. Spreading your legs, his face hovered dangerously close to your sex, then he pressed a feather light kiss to your clothed heat causing you to let out a shuddered breath.
Placing his nose to your core, he inhaled your scent deeply. “Fuck. You smell so damn delicious, Y/N,” he growled. At his words, heat flushed through you all the way to your sex, you swallowed hard.
His eyes blazing as he kept them on you and he slowly and seductively peeled your panties off and gave a kitten lick to your evident arousal left on them. Sinking to his knees he pressed his fingers to your core, playing with your wetness, causing you to cry out in frustration. Eventually giving into your desperation, he parted your lips that were slick with arousal, pressing his tongue flat to your core and licking a long stripe towards your clit. He delved his tongue inside you languidly flicking his tongue until you became a limp, shuddering mess. Then he lightly nipped and played with your clit with his tongue as he eased one digit into your wet folds, gently curling his fingers and repeatedly hitting your g-spot. You felt the tight knot within you release as you dissolved into pleasure, moaning; “Fuck, Jimin!”
He made a deep noise in the back of his throat but continued lapping up your juices hungrily as you continued to pulse. He came up from between your legs grinning and lifted your fucked out form onto his lap, his canines elongating slightly and he gently bit on your exposed neck. And then he began to suck.
“Jimin,” you rasped out. Your head falling back as you felt a rush of arousal all over again and you found yourself grinding against his hardness frantically. He let out a faint groan in response, his hot breath hitting your shoulder as he fed. Your thighs hugging his waist tightly circled your hips, fingers laced into his hair, pulling roughly. The friction of his clothed core rubbing against your clit and the tantalizing feeling of his feeding felt too good to handle, your breathing began got heavier, your toes curled and Jimin let out a loud moan into your neck. Jimin began to thrust his hips up against you in an attempt to chase the pleasure, rubbing you in just the right spot.
“Oh!~”
You felt his cock begin to throb and you tighten your thighs around him, your veins burning with desire, craving your second orgasm. Then waves of pleasure came over you, the only thing you were aware of was the twitching of Jimin’s cock as he found his release and his lips detaching from your neck as he finished drinking your sweet blood. You collapsed against him, panting.
Fandom: Little Witch Academia | Pairing: Dianakko/Diakko
Word Count: 1,365 | Read Time: ~ 6 minutes
First Chapter | Previous Chapter
Summary: Magic mishaps and a lovely discussion over tea.
The table was set, tea cups, saucers, kettle, tea pot, sugar, cream, spoons, and a various assortment of biscuits, cookies, shortbreads, cakes, crackers, and jams. Diana had never really been much for sweets, but she knew Akko was, and had made a point to ensure that she had a range of options for her to choose from, despite knowing Akko would probably still scarf down everything without a second thought or even so much as tasting what she shoves into her mouth. Tea was brewed right on time, 8 minutes to boil, 10 minutes to steep. 2 minutes to cool in Diana’s hands before she took her first sip. She had ordered an assortment of teas for the semester and had become rather fond of the jasmine and cherry blossom green tea blend that had arrived. She hoped it didn’t make things too obvious, but then again, her letters might have also been a bit over the top. Time passed, nothing happened, and Diana began to worry. Soon enough, Diana had begun to stand, and paced around the room frantically, well, as frantically as she might have allowed herself, for what seemed like an hour now. Akko was late, only by a few minutes, but each agonizing second Akko did not appear made Diana more concerned about the severity and sincerity of their letters. “Surely she didn’t forget,” Diana murmured, before she was startled by a knock at the door. “Just a minute!” She moved to open the door, but first adjusted herself in the mirror to ensure she didn’t look as much of a frantic mess as she felt. “Akko? I— Oh…”
“Diana!” Avery said, looking absolutely exhausted. She had ran all the way from Lukić’s room to see Diana. “Something horrible has happened, you must come quick!”
“Of course,” Diana nodded, though her brow creased. Akko wasn’t one to back down from something when she made up her mind… But duty called and she simply didn’t have the time to wait on her. She hurried down the corridor along side Avery, keeping her composure, despite the turmoil in her heart.
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Akko hadn’t intended to be this late. In fact, she hadn’t intended to become Sucy’s guinea pig for the third time that week either, but there was no avoiding the matter. Sucy had promised to make an elixir that could ail Constanze’s muteness, but when Constanze refused to drink it, she had given it to Akko as she passed by on her way to Diana’s room. And now she could not seem to stop talking. She was running her mouth so much her tongue felt arid and numb like sand paper. she could not will herself to silence, could not, for the life of her, stop her jaw from moving, her tongue from hitting the roof of her mouth, air from exhaling through the back of her throat, and the more she spoke, the less she could think behind her words, the less she could control her very thoughts, and the more the words began to slur together like one great big run-on sentence that extended for an eternity. Sucy couldn’t get a hold of Akko’s mouth long enough to get her to drink the antidote to the talksalot elixir and Constanze seemed too horrified at the thought that it could have very well been her doing the rambling rather than Akko to help. Poor Lukić could not get a word in, either to scold the girls for misuse of classroom resources or even a word of praise for replicating such a complicated potion in the first place, and her intensive shouting was only met full force by Akko’s own voice, raised in pitch and volume. At some point the words didn’t even sound like words anymore, only like vague sounds and squeaks, as if Akko had become a parrot, or some other form of high pitched, squealing bird.
Diana had, of course, arrived by this time, when Sucy had given up on helping Akko, reverting back to her usual smirking, chuckling self when it came to Akko’s suffering. Akko’s face was blood red and her eyes were in tears from the action and thus her vision too impaired to even see that Diana had stepped into the room. Lukić gave Diana an update as to what had happened while Sucy was too busy laughing to give a straight answer, and in that instant, Diana raised her wand and casted a counter spell to keep Akko from talking. “Honestly, was that so hard?”
Akko, upon being silenced, perked up at hearing Diana’s voice, blinking away tears in utter joy and surprise. She was just grateful to no longer hear the sound of her own voice, despite the tingling in the back of her throat. When at last the nullification spell had been casted and Akko was free of all magic, she rushed to Diana’s side, hugging onto her. “Thank you, Diana! You’re my hero!”
“Akko!” Diana tried not to blush as she gently pushed the girl off of her. You really do get yourself into all sorts of trouble…” She sighed, taking Akko’s hand. “And now I have to brew a fresh batch of tea. What a waste…”
Sucy and Constanze watched Akko go and simply shrugged, returning to the cauldron in front of them. Sucy gave Constanze an apologetic grin. “What should we make next?”
--------------------------------------
“Sucy should have known the implications of such a brew from the start before she gave it to you,” Diana said, pouring Akko a fresh cup of tea. “You’re already very talkative, and to give you anything to make you more so meant that the potion would just run you lil you were incapable of speech altogether. In theory, it might have worked better on Constanze, but the fact remains that the measurements have to be exact or else the consequences are infinitely awful.” She tapped her spoon against the brim of her cup to reduce drip after she stirred and wrapped her hands around its warm body. “The fact that you went as long as you did is one of the many miracles of being you, Akko. I think your ability to absorb and tolerate high concentrations of magic is beyond even me…”
“Thank you, Diana,” Akko laughed nervously and scratched the back of her head. “I guess that’s just one of the benefits of being me. I have to make up for my lack of talent somehow. Maybe this is just how I do that.” She was joking of course, but Diana knew there was a bit of truth seeping into her words.
“Lack of talent? Your magic is extravagant, very mysterious and alluring. It might not always be reliable for average, day to day spells, but you always manage to improve and find ways to astound me…”
Akko couldn’t help but blush at that. “Yes well, you’re one to talk Diana… Your magic is well admired—“
“And yours isn’t admired enough,” Diana took a sip of her tea. “Akko, you give yourself far too little credit.”
“Diana…” Akko smiled nervously. “I could never match your skill.”
“You couldn’t?” Diana raised a brow. “I believe you already have, on multiple fronts. You’ve proven yourself, time and time again. I think that’s something to admire.”
“Thank you, Diana,” Akko smiled softly. “I mean it.”
Tea time lasted for a few hours, Diana and Akko chatting about various subjects of magic and even a few personal topics such as friends, and all while Akko scarfed down the treats Diana had laid out, much to Diana’s dismay. Though she did, eventually, try to be more civil on the matter. When it was time to clean up, Diana waved her wand and gathered the dishes, clearing them away. “This has been fun, Akko.”
“Yes it has, Diana. Thank you for letting me have tea with you.” Akko stood and bowed. “We should do this again.”
“Any time,” Diana smiled. “Just let me know beforehand.”
“Of course.” Akko said, as Diana walked her to the door. Before she left, she made a quick point to kiss Diana’s cheek on her way out, just before she closed the door.
The salt-scoured wood of your father’s dory was the only thing between you and the deep. The fog was a living thing that morning, muffling the slap of oars and turning the world into a grey, silent wool. You’d been doing this since you were old enough to haul a net: the quiet rituals of a fishing village woman. You never sang. That was the first rule. You didn’t call out to the sea; you only took. You would drop a stone wrapped in a bit of net over the side before you cast your line, a tiny offering to the dark for safe passage. You’d trace a finger through the salt crust on the gunwale, three lines for a calm sea. You didn't know why you did it, only that your mother had, and her mother before her.
The last thing you remembered of the surface world was the sudden, violent snatch of your anchor line pulling taut, the wooden cleat splintering, and the cold, hard shock of the water closing over your head.
You woke to the sound of dripping stone and a bioluminescent glow that painted the cave walls in shifting greens and golds. Your clothes were heavy, soaked through, and you were lying on a bed of kelp. You lifted your head, wincing at the ache in your ribs, and that’s when you saw him.
He was massive. Not just long, but built. His torso was the smooth, sun-starved white of a fish’s belly, but corded with the dense muscle of something that swims against currents. Where his hips should have been, a powerful tail swept down, the scales a deep, storm-cloud dark bluish grey that flashed with an iridescent oil-slick sheen in the cave light. His hair was the same color as the kelp, dark and tangled with small shells. And his eyes. They were fixed on you with an intensity that stopped your breath, an iris the color of sunlit amber.
He wasn't leering. He was beaming.
“You’re awake!” His voice was a strange, warbling echo, like someone speaking into a metal bucket, but the joy in it was undeniable. “I was afraid I’d pulled too hard, but you’re so soft. I didn’t want to bruise the skin.”
You scrambled back against the damp cave wall, the sharp edges of shells digging into your palms. “Where...What are you? Did you drown my boat?”
His fins flared with a wet, rustling sound, a gesture you’d later learn was akin to a man puffing out his chest. “Drown? No! I invited you. Finally. I saw your offerings. The stone for stability. The three lines for a triad, for a family. You’ve been courting me for three moon cycles with your little boat and your quiet hands. I’ve been trying to respond, but you keep leaving before I can show you the best rocks!”
He gestured broadly with a webbed hand toward the back of the cave. You blinked, your eyes adjusting. What you’d thought was a strange formation of stone was actually a pile. A massive, glittering hill of treasure. There were barnacle-encrusted amphorae leaking ancient gold coins, a tarnished silver tea set, a crown with a massive cracked sapphire, and strands upon strands of sea-glass and pearls.
“I brought all my best. I’ve been watching. You like the shiny things. The ones the two-legs trade for the stinky fish.” He pushed himself forward with a powerful, sinuous flex of his tail, stopping just inches from your feet. “I have accepted your suit.”
You stared at him, mouth agape. Courting. He thought the nervous tics of a fisherman’s daughter afraid of sirens were a mating dance.
“I need to go home,” you whispered, the sound almost lost in the drip of the cave.
His face fell, his fins drooping. “Of course. You must go tend to your dry nest. But you must take my dowry. How else will the other males know you are claimed?”
Before you could protest, he was hauling a heavy, salt-crusted chest of jewels toward the cave entrance. When you swam up and found your dory, miraculously afloat and only half-swamped, he was there, pushing the chest onto the deck with enough force to make the little boat rock dangerously. He looped a rope of perfect, matching black pearls around the bow cleat, the one he’d broken, and looked up at you with such earnest, alien adoration.
“I will come tomorrow,” he promised, his voice muffled by the water. “When the sun is high. Rest your small, warm bones.”
You rowed home in a daze. You stashed the chest under your floorboards and told yourself it was a fever dream, a concussion from hitting the water. You were safe. You just wouldn't go fishing again. The sea was too strange now.
But he came the next day.
You were mending a net on the shore, far from the dock, when the water twenty feet out churned with a familiar grey flash. He rose, water streaming down his chest, his amber eyes finding you immediately. He looked distressed, his breathing rapid and his gills flaring wide.
“You did not come,” he warbled, his voice cracking. “It is the season. The tide is right. I have something…the most precious thing. I must give it to you. Now.”
“I can’t. The water is cold, and I’m not...”
“Please. It is not a thing of metal. It is of me. If you do not take it, I will burn from the inside. Please, my warm one.”
There was a desperate, frantic edge to him that overrode your fear. You took a step into the surf, then another, the cold stealing your breath. As soon as you were waist-deep, his arms were around you, pulling you against the shocking chill of his chest. He swam fast, one arm locked around your back, keeping your head above the waves as he powered toward the cave you’d woken up in.
He laid you down on the makeshift bed again, but this time, his demeanor had changed. The shy enthusiasm was gone, replaced by a coiled, predatory stillness. His tail thrashed once against the stone floor, a sound like thunder.
“I know you are not of the deep. I know you cannot lay my eggs,” he rasped, his head lowering to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent like a drowning man gasps for air. “But the song is in my blood. I have waited. And you accepted the pearls. You are mine. My mate. My soft, warm mate.”
He was careful at first, his webbed hands trembling as they peeled the wet wool and linen from your skin. He marveled at the goosebumps on your arms, the way your legs bent at the knee. “Strange fins,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against your thigh. “But soft. So soft.”
When he positioned himself, his tail moving with an instinct older than his strange, human words, you understood what he’d meant by most precious. The slit in the scales at the base of his stomach parted, and you felt the press of something smooth and hard, not quite human but perfectly designed for this purpose. He was impossibly strong, and the rhythm he set was the rhythm of the tide: relentless, deep, and inescapable.
He took you there in the glowing cave. He whispered things in a language of clicks and whistles. He was lost to it, his eyes rolled back, his powerful body shuddering against yours as he chased an instinctual release that biology said you could never fulfill.
When it was over, he didn't let you go. He curled his tail around you, caging you in the bend of his massive body, and pulled you into the water so just your face was above the surface, cradled against his shoulder. His body was feverishly hot now, the mating frenzy slowly ebbing.
You were floating in the middle of the sea, held by a monster who loved you because you had been afraid.
“I cannot give you eggs,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.
He clicked softly, nuzzling your hair. “No. But you will come back to the shore. You will do the three lines on the wood. And I will keep you warm in the cold water. That is enough. That is my most precious."
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You saw him in a brightly lit bistro, staring with palpable despair at a paper cup of broccoli cheddar soup. He was too beautiful for the setting. His skin had that translucent, backlit-by-moonlight quality that made the fluorescent overheads seem like a personal insult to his existence. His suit was a deep, liquid black that seemed to swallow the light around the seams.
You had your laptop open. You were on your second cup of coffee. He was on his first emotional breakdown of the evening.
"Jessica?" he had whispered to the woman across from him, her hand frozen halfway to a bread bowl. "I apologise. I should have mentioned that I do not require sustenance of the...bread variety. And if we are to cohabitate, the windows must be bricked over. Immediately. For the sun. I have a severe sun allergy."
The woman, Jessica, had stared at him. Then she had said, very slowly, "I think you're a weirdo."
She left. He didn't chase her. He just sat there, looking at the soup as if it had personally betrayed his entire bloodline.
You felt a tug of pity. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a thrill of utter curiosity. You closed your laptop.
"That bad, huh?" you asked, sliding into now vacant chair.
He looked up. His eyes were the color of old garnets, and they widened with the panic of a deer who had just walked into a sliding glass door. He had obviously not planned for a contingency plan.
"It's the sun allergy," he admitted, his voice a lovely, sad baritone. "It’s a common dealbreaker. Also, I mentioned the average lifespan of my previous spouses as a matter of fiscal transparency, and she took it as a threat."
"How many previous spouses?"
"Fourteen," he said. "But in fairness, that's over four hundred years. The mortality rate is perfectly average for the era. Two fell off horses. One was eaten by a bear. It was a different time."
You should have run. You really should have. But he looked so genuinely confused, so utterly lost, that you found yourself leaning forward.
"What's your name?" you asked.
"Alistair Ravencroft," he said, and for a second, the air got cold and the lights flickered, and you felt the weight of centuries in the name. And then the lights came back on and he sneezed because someone dropped a cinnamon crunch bagel in the toaster oven behind the counter. "There's cinnamon in the air," he whined, rubbing his nose. "Cinnamon is for the dead. It's an embalming spice. It's rude."
You gave him a chance. He took it with both trembling, impossibly strong hands.
Two weeks later, you were in a car that smelled like old leather and cold stone, driving up a winding road that didn't appear on any GPS. Alistair was driving with the cautious, terrified focus of a sixteen-year-old taking their driver's test, despite the fact he’d been driving since before cars were invented. He kept glancing at you in the passenger seat, then back at the road, then back at you.
"I have to warn you," he said, his voice small. "The decor is a bit...me. I haven't updated since the Hapsburgs were relevant. And I have a collection. I need you to understand, I am not showing you these things to boast. I am showing you because I don't know how else to say: I have nothing else to offer but this."
He took you through the giant oak doors and into a cavern of gothic splendor. The floors were polished obsidian. The walls were lined with oil paintings of people who looked suspiciously like him wearing various historical hats. There was a sarcophagus in the foyer. He used it as an umbrella stand.
"This is the treasury," he mumbled, leading you into a room that made Scrooge McDuck's vault look like a piggy bank.
Mountains of gold coins spilled out of chests. Rubies the size of your fist were piled in corners like forgotten laundry. He picked up a diamond tiara that had probably belonged to a princess and placed it on your head without asking. It fit perfectly.
"I had it resized," he said. "Just in case. I know it's presumptuous."
He then reached into a nearby stone basin filled with ice and pulled out a medical blood bag. He pierced it with a crazy straw, a pink, curly one, and began to suckle on it sadly, his cheeks hollowing. He looked like a tragic, beautiful child who had been told he couldn't have dessert.
"I know," he said around the straw, his voice muffled. "I know this is too much."
"It's a lot of money, Alistair."
"It's not the money," he said, pulling the straw out with a wet pop. He gestured around at the glittering hoard. "This is just shiny dirt. What I want...what I need...is you. Here. Forever. Starting tomorrow. I want to wake up and see your face and know that you are legally bound to share this shiny dirt with me. I want a marriage. Right now. I'm not good at waiting. I've been alive for four hundred and sixty-two years and I'm very tired of waiting."
He pulled a scroll of parchment from his jacket, actual parchment, tied with a black ribbon.
"I had my lawyer draw this up. If you sign, half of everything in this room is yours. Not in the event of my death. Right now. This instant. You can fill the moat with gold coins and swim in them like a nouveau riche dolphin. I don't care. I just want you to stay."
You looked at the contract. You looked at the pile of flawless emeralds. You looked at the vampire, six-foot-four of ancient power and boundless wealth, sucking on a blood bag with a bendy straw, his garnet eyes welling up with the certainty of rejection.
You signed the parchment.
He sobbed. Right there in the treasury. He dropped the blood bag and it splattered on a pile of Spanish doubloons. He didn't care.
The wedding was three days later, officiated by a hooded figure in a ruined chapel on the cliffside. It was very Addams Family.
Then came the consummation. You’d expected it to be cold, clinical. Maybe even a little violent given the whole immortal predator thing.
It was not. He was tender to the point of absurdity. He kissed your shoulder blades like they were holy relics. He whispered your name into the curve of your neck with the reverence of a man praying for rain in a drought. And when he finally entered you, moving with that deep, rhythmic precision that came from centuries of practice, he started to cry.
Not sobbing, ugly crying. Just a steady, silent leak of red-tinged tears down his marble cheekbones.
"Alistair," you breathed, cupping his face. "Are you okay?"
"I'm just so happy," he choked out, his hips never faltering. "I didn't think anyone would ever want the sun allergy."
That was the first time. It happened every time after that. The crying was a feature, not a bug. And honestly? Who cares?
Because the man, the creature, did not get tired. His body didn't understand lactic acid or muscle fatigue. He could go for hours. Hours. You’d come three times before he even got misty-eyed, and then you’d just hold on while he chased his own release with the desperate, awe-struck stamina of an immortal who had finally found a reason to stop counting the centuries.
You’d intended to take the money and run. Maybe buy a yacht. Maybe open a studio in Milan and buy a villa in the south of Italy.
But then you’d wake up to find him standing by the window, holding a cup of perfectly steeped Earl Grey tea (he couldn't drink it, but he researched the optimal temperature for you), looking at you like you'd hung the moon and the stars and also fixed the draft in the east wing.
"Good morning, my darling," he'd whisper. "I watched you sleep for the last four hours. I hope that's not creepy. I think it's probably creepy. I'm sorry."
You stayed for the tea. You stayed for the way he’d carefully dusted the suit of armor in the hallway so it didn't scare you. You stayed for the way he'd apologize to the blood bags before drinking them.
And you definitely stayed for the way he’d weep into your hair at three in the morning, his body still moving inside you with the relentless, loving precision of a Swiss watch, whispering, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
It turned out hundreds of years of loneliness made a man very, very grateful. And very, very rich. And very, very good at making sure you didn't get much sleep.
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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: TOMORROW X TOGETHER | TXT (Korea Band)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Choi Yeonjun/Reader
Characters: Choi Yeonjun, Reader
Additional Tags: frat boy yeonjun, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Kisses, Making Out, Some Plot, Vibrators, Fraternities & Sororities, Hand Jobs, Lace Panties, no beta we die like yeonjun in the +u
Summary: Reader finally get Yeonjun where she's been thinking about being with him for the last three years.
Summary: You’re vampire Jimin’s donor, but he doesn’t feed like other vampires, he needs something first.
Genre: Smut, fluff
Word Count: 2226
Warning: Oral, unprotected sex, virgin
You had spent most of your time at school, taking care of your basic needs, and the rest of the time belonged to Jimin. Thinking about him, texting and calling him, going over to feed him. You even found yourself staying with him long after he was done just so you could talk to him. There was no one you were closer to, trusted more. And you had fallen in love with him. But nearly a year had passed and your contract was almost over.
You know he doesn’t love you back, to him you were just his friend that he needed so he could survive and your time with him was coming to close. I don’t want to lose him, but would he even want to renew the contract? You were thinking as you left Jimin’s apartment after his last feeding. Sure, the contract didn’t end until after tomorrow, but this was the last time you would see him.
Tears started to fall from your eyes as you thought about how much you would miss him and how you didn’t want to end your relationship with him, but you knew holding on to him would only make things worse for you. You were gonna end your contract. This way you could move on, get a boyfriend, someone who would love you back.
You turned right around and walked straight back into BigHit to end this contract. Which of course ended in another contract to make it officially over, again, making sure that you wouldn’t be telling anyone about how you were associated with Jimin and BigHit. Silent tears fell from your eyes and onto the paper as you signed. It’s really over now.
Your days went by as usual. You went to school and took care of yourself, but without Jimin, your life was tainted with loneliness and despair. You missed him desperately and it had only been a week. You couldn’t remember a time when you had gone this long without talking to him since you met him. Maybe you never had. But he hadn’t even bothered to call. Not that you thought he would, but you hoped.
It was foolish. So you made yourself a cup of tea and flicked on the newest episode of your favourite drama to distract yourself. But it couldn’t be done, you kept thinking about him. And the more you thought, the angrier you got. So sat there, arms cross, boiling with anger. Why shouldn’t he call me? He should have at least texted to say goodbye! He’s an asshole and he wasn’t worth thinking about, you decided.
You go up and stormed out the door. You weren’t about to sit around and waste your time thinking about him, so you went straight to the convenience store to eat some ramen. Which apparently didn’t work because on your way out, you thought you saw a glimpse of Jimin’s lean back and thick blonde hair. Your heart started to pound like crazy like it always did when you saw him. Then he vanished, so you pinned it as your imagination and headed home, back to your drama and your same old distractions.
You phone started ringing, startling you out of your musing. It was a call from Jimin. Weird. Must just be a butt- dial. Even if it wasn’t I refuse to talk to that asshole. You pressed ignore and tried your hardest to let it go, slamming the remote onto the couch.
You stomped off to bed where you had a pleasant dream about Jimin. You were walking down the street and he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your cheek and whispering softly about how beautiful you are and let him in… Wait. Let him in? You sat upright in bed and rubbed your eyes. Then you realized. Someone was pounding on your door yelling to let them in. So it wasn’t from your dream.
You stumbled up and went to the door, unlatching and opening it, only to come face- to- face with Jungkook.
His face was etched in concern and he breathed a sigh of relief, “thank, god. Y/N.”
“What is it?” You questioned, then you noticed the hunched over form of Jimin on the ground he was facing away from you, but at the sound of your voice, he perked up. He was sickly pale with deep purple bags under his eyes. He looked absolutely terrible. You looked back up at Jungkook.
“He’s been inconsolable for days. And we would have just left him to come back to you, but he refuses to drink from anyone else. He just keeps asking for you. You have to help him, Y/N.”
You sighed deeply. You wanted to help, but you were unsure. “Why should I?”
“I understand why you’re angry, but he will die without you!”
“Okay, bring him in.” You squeezed your eyes shut and rubbed your temples as he grabbed Jimin and dragged him onto your couch, turning and bowing to you before going to leave.
“Wait! You’re leaving me alone with him?” You asked desperately.
“Yeah… Feeding is really personal and intimate, I don’t want to see Jimin like that and I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate me watching. He’ll be fine after he feeds. So, I’m off.” With that, the door closed and you were alone with the very person you thought you’d never seen again.
“Y/N…” He whispered and it sounded raspy. Not in a good way.
You walked quickly over to him, exposing one of your shoulders as you sat next to him.
“You’re an idiot, Jimin!” You lifted him up and immediately his eyes darkened with hunger and lust, there was something else there too, but you couldn’t tell what it was.
His canines sharpened and he pushed you gently to lie on the couch. Even like this, he was still gentle with you.
“God, I missed you so much.” He ground his hips mercilessly against you as you tried your best to resist the urge, then he sank his teeth into you and began to suck, filling your body with an unbearable ache. You were turned on so much you wanted to fuck him right then and there, but you held yourself back.
“Do what you need to do then leave,” you said sternly. “The contract is over Jimin! You’re lucky I’m even gonna do this for you. Next time feed off someone else,” you said when he still go to move or even say anything.
He laid on top of you, studying your face like he hadn’t seen you in years. Then he smiled, and his whole face went with it. “No, Y/N. You see, when I told you that you were mine, I meant it. You’re not leaving me.”
Scoffing, you said, “I’ve already left you, Jimin and you had seemed to handle it very well before now. You didn’t contact me at all.”
“That was the worst time of my life. I felt like I would have died without you, Y/N,” he whispered, his smiling disappearing and his face turning serious.
“Yeah because you actually would have! You had to go and starve yourself! That’s just like you, you don’t even care about me do you!?”
A tear slipped from his eye, landing on your cheek.
“Jimin?”
“Why’d you go and leave me?”
“I thought that was what you wanted,” you murmured.
“How could you think that!? All I want is you! Don’t ever leave me. I love you! I can’t breathe without you.”
You stared up at him in shock. “What did you just say?”
“I said I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.”
A wide smile spread across your face and you reached up to wipe the tears off his chubby cheeks, “I love you too, Jimin.”
He leaned down and kissed you passionately, putting in all the emotions and everything he felt into that kiss. Sweeping his tongue into your mouth and dominating you. You couldn’t take it anymore, you started to grind your hips up against his, moaning into his kiss.
He stroked your soft skin at the edge of your waistband then grabbed your shirt and pulled it off you. You weren’t wearing a bra. He leaned back to admire your exposed breasts for an agonizingly long time.
“Jimin, please,” you begged.
He smirked then attached his lips to your nipple, sucking on it and flicking it with his tongue until you were a whimpering mess underneath him. Then slowly kissing and sucking his way down to the waistband of your pyjama shorts, peeling them off you.
He leaned in close to your heat and starts to leisurely kiss his way up your thigh, inching closer to where you wanted him most, then he turned to repeat the process with the other thigh.
“Jimin,” you groaned out, rolling your hips out of frustration.
He chuckled against your hot skin, “this is your punishment for leaving me, Y/N,” he murmured.
“P-please…”
Finally giving in to your desperate pleas, he slid a finger between your lips, pausing to rub your clit, you arched your back against his movements. His finger slowly entering you, curling the deeper he goes. Jimin grins wickedly at you, fingers pumping in and out of you with speed.
Then he added another finger into your folds, curling them to hit you in just the right spot and picking up his pace causing you to moan his name over and over again.
“God, I love to watch you like this, Y/N,” he rasped out.
Pressing his tongue flat against your sensitive clit before his tongue starts circling against you, you gripped the fabric of the couch tightly. Then wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud, sucking hard until he had you screaming out his name. You weaved your hands into his soft hair, tugging roughly as you started rocking your hips up into his face, feeling the fire pooling in your belly, signally your oncoming orgasm.
With one last flick of his tongue and pump of his finger he had you dissolving into pleasure, shuddering underneath him and screaming out his name. Jimin growled loudly and began to lap up your juices that leaked from your over sensitive folds.
He quickly ripped his shirt off revealing his toned abs, making you lick your lips in desire, wanting to rub your hands all over him. Then he pulled his pants off along with his boxers and his dick sprang free of its constraints. You gasped in shock and awe at Jimin’s impressive size as another rush of heat spread through you.
He hovered over you and licked a long stripe up your neck as he rubbed the tip of his dick against your glistening folds, teasing you and causing you to shudder in anticipation.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” Then he nipped at your flesh and began to suck while sinking his cock into you slowly. He groaned.
The euphoria of his feeding on you drowning out the pain of his huge cock stretching and filling you up.
“Jesus, fuck, Y/N. You’re so tight,” he breathed out. He paused for a minute to let you get used to feeling of his inside you, the sensation of his bare skin against yours was intoxicating. But he stayed completely still until you were pleading for him to fuck you.
He pulled out of you, you whimpered at the empty feeling without him. Then he snapped his hips, burying himself inside you to the hilt once again, groaning loudly in pleasure. You hooked your legs around his waist, as he pounded into you, setting his pace. You were overcome with new sensations and you felt a sweet, hot burn that made you tingle all the way to the tips of your toes that made you throb against him.
“Oh Jesus, fuck yes,” you choked out, every part of you that he touched felt unbearably amazing.
Each time he thrust into you and swivelled his hips, rubbing your walls making you dizzy in ecstasy. Then he gripped your hips and angled them so he could penetrate you deeper. Pounding his hips into you, repeatedly hitting your g-spot.
“Yes, there, just like that, fucking Christ,” you cried out.
Your vision went black as the waves of pleasure overcame you and you pulsed around Jimin, dragging him closer to his own orgasm. His cock twitched inside you as his hips lost its rhythm, sloppily slamming into you.
“You feel so fucking amazing,” he grunted.
Suddenly, he paused, pulling his lips of your neck with a pop as he shuddered and released his hot seed inside you.
He pulled out of you, collapsing on top of you. Then he rolled over, pulling you to him as he smiled, going back to mochi mode.
“My squishy little ChimChim,” you cooed, squishing his face between your hands.
“If you ever call me that again I’ll sink my cock into you and pound you so hard, the only thing you’ll remember is my name,” he warned, straight back to sexy Jimin.
“What name? You mean ChimChim?” You laughed.
He smirked and rolled back on top of you. You were gonna be sore tomorrow.
