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elenajohansenauthor · 6 years

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Fictober18, Day 9: “You shouldn’t have come here.”

OCs: Shannon and Noah

Project: Untitled paranormal romance for Fictober18, now tagged #spookyromancenovel on my blog

Potential Triggers: none

Word Count: 1,932

About: Shannon gets Noah to help her with the interrupted ritual: progress ensues! [and now i’m only two days behind, I hadn’t written since Monday but I did 3K today, happy Elena is happy]

Noah settled cross-legged on top of my cot, while I sat at my desk. I blew out the candles.

“Hey, you're not going to—I didn't mean to interrupt,” he ended lamely. “Can you still, if I just sit here and be really quiet?”

I could try, but his presence would be distracting anyway. I'd never really been able to forget Noah was in the room with me, ever. Even when we were in class together, I'd known he was there. Even when we were sitting side by side at one of the long library tables, studying silently, I could hear the scratch of his pencil while he took notes, or see pages turning out of the corner of my eye, or simply feel the warmth of his presence. I hadn't known before that skinny guys could put out so much heat. I expected bulky guys to be radiators, but Noah always used to be warm.

I glanced at him, his magical gargoyle bulk further padded out by layers of clothing. He had his hands tucked under his crossed arms. Used to be.

“I have another idea now.” As I spoke, I put everything away except the altar cloth. “You shouldn't have come here, but since you did, you're going to help me.”

It didn't take long to perform the setup again. This time, I chose the first stone, the first candle; I knew their meanings. Noah looked into the box and chose whatever called to him, and I didn't ask him to explain why. I drew the third blind, as I had for the prayer I hadn't gotten to make.

The first stone was still carnelian. Noah chose a smooth, flat piece of snowflake obsidian: balance, inner and outer harmony, and protection of the heart. The final stone turned out to be tiger's eye, which made me smile. Truth-seeking.

Again, I still began with the black candle. Noah chose gold, which often symbolized the sun and male energy. I drew blue, for meditation, communication, and healing.

I left the center empty. I didn't need a picture to focus when I had Noah himself here. If I couldn't ignore him, which I knew I couldn't, then I would use him. “There,” I said as I lit the last candle and shook out the match. “Now stand behind me, put your hands on my shoulders.” The floor boards creaked under his weight, but he did as I asked without comment. He flinched a little when I raised my hands to his, resting them on top, but he didn't pull away.

“What do I do? You know I don't have any actual talent for this--”

“Hush,” I said gently. “You don't need to. And you don't need to do anything except be still and quiet. Try to think positive thoughts, if you can, but don't worry if negative ones show up. I don't imagine you've had a lot of practice meditating.”

“No.” His voice was deep and quiet. “Not my strength.”

It might be something he'd have to develop, a quieter mind, if he did end up a gargoyle. Anxiety and restlessness weren't traits associated with them.

I shoved the thought from my mind. We were going to figure this out, and I already had a plan to handle the worst. Noah was right—in a way, it was a comfort, knowing he could have a peaceful end if all else failed.

But I can't tolerate failure, not when my best friend's life was at stake. I'd already been failing him, slowly but steadily, for three years.

My mind was see-sawing already, good to bad, bad to good, bouncing around without finding the still spot in the middle. I gripped his hands tighter, focusing on their chill instead of pretending it wasn't there.

This close, I could hear his breathing. Perhaps he wouldn't find the inner stillness I aimed for, but he was relaxing, at least. That was something I could do for him, after triggering a surge of protectiveness strong enough to send him across the city to guard me, even inside my private fortress.

The fond tenderness I felt from that melted into a vague worry. Was that all he had left for me? Was that our relationship distilled down, or maybe whittled away, by the curse? He still had anger and fear, but was all our friendship gone under the drive to protect, especially as I was the person who could help him regain himself?

But in those questions came a sort of answer. I was the other thing that made him different, somehow. I was something the curse hadn't taken away from him. He held on to me because I was hope and sanity, his future and his salvation.

I only prayed I was worthy of that trust; there, I found the peace I sought.

After some time—I don't know how long—Noah's hands squeezed my shoulders. “Shannon?”

I came up from the trance slowly, dreamily. “Yeah?”

“Your breathing got so slow, I was worried.”

“I'm fine.” I rolled my head loosely a few times. “How about you?”

He moved away, leaving a cold spot in the air behind me. “Calmer, but...but no mystical revelations or anything.”

“I don't know yet how mystical mine was,” I said with a light laugh. Sometimes, after a ritual, I got giddy. “But I did come up with something. I don't have my notes here, but I suppose I can tape this in.” I searched my junk drawer for a scrap of paper and scribbled the time, date, and place at the top of the blank backside of a political flier someone had stuck on my window. I didn't run a community billboard or anything like that, so I'd taken it down, but I'd forgotten to throw it away.

“What did you see? Or figure out, I mean?”

“It's me. I'm keeping you human.”

“Uh, yeah? I don't remember it or anything, but you did replace my heart with a nifty bit of magic.”

“No, no, it's more than that. I don't know what, yet, but it's not just my Healing efforts, because those never did any lasting good. And that heart is your final defense, but it's not that either.” I swallowed hard and looked up from the paper. “I never told you, because I didn't want to discourage you. But I didn't think you'd make it this long, not three years, and certainly not long enough for me to run out of ideas. The heart was a stop-gap at best. It can't be the only thing preventing the transformation. Maybe it was at first, but something else is going on now.”

“Like what?”

“That's just it. This is a shot in the dark, but it's got something to do with me, even though it's not something I've done. I know that's vague, but can you think of anything on your part? Something you said or did, something to do with me, that could be strong enough to form a spell of its own?”

“Shannon, I'm not magic. I don't have any power, so I couldn't have done anything.” He sounded confused, but also faintly angry.

“You do, though. Now you do. You're almost completely made of magical stone now, and we shouldn't be ignoring that. Gargoyles' powers beyond everything obvious in their physical form aren't well known. Maybe they don't talk because they've got some kind of hive mind, or some telepathy, or something. Maybe they're so relatively inert because the stone gives them longer life spans—it's not like they're going to tell us how old they are! And no one has been able to compile any reasonable kind of census, not even of the population of a single city, because they look so alike and don't respond well to tagging.” More than one scientist had tried and gotten badly wounded for their efforts. “The list of things we don't know about gargoyles is probably long enough for a book or three or ten. So, yeah, maybe you did do something. You didn't grow up with magic, you don't know how to focus or utilize it because you never had to learn. But it's there. With enough intention, magic can do all sorts of things, like, I don't know, when people talk to their plants. It never worked for some people, the plants wouldn't grow, but for others it worked like magic. Because it was, only they didn't know it.”

My whole impassioned speech left me short of breath and more than a little high on my own intensity, but Noah sat there impassively, his brows drawn together to form that sharp little crease of worry. “I just don't know. I don't know what I could have done.”

He sounded so pained, it brought me right back down to earth. “Okay, Noah, okay. Just, think about it, okay? If you remember something--”

“I promise,” he said instantly. “I'll tell you.”

Our eyes met as we realized what he'd said. “I promise--” he repeated, at the same time I cried “Promise magic!”

“That's a thing, a real thing?”

I smiled at him fondly. “Have you ever broken a promise you made to me, all the way back to when we were kids?”

He shook his head with a dazed expression. “Not even when Jimmy Olvestad hassled me for three weeks to find out if you had a crush on him and finally punched me when I swore I'd never tell.”

“Jimmy? I never had a crush on Jimmy. Wait, he punched you?” That would have been seventh grade—the Olvestads had moved away just after the school year ended. “I don't remember that at all, you never had a black eye or anything.” I felt faintly sick that I could have forgotten something so major, at least in the life of a kid.

“Um.” Noah cleared his throat. “That's not where he punched me.”

I went to him, hugging his head against my stomach. I couldn't not touch him, just then. “I know it's years too late, but I'm sorry for the pain you suffered defending my honor.” He chuckled into my sweater.

When I drew back, he was smiling. “So all those promises we made over the years—you think that's what's doing it? Because I didn't have any power for most of that time, so unless it's coming from you.”

I sat on the cot beside him, tired out from alternating between giddiness and anxiety. “I really don't know that much about promise magic. Truly unbreakable vows—I've heard stories, and they can backfire in spectacular and usually unpleasant ways. Honestly, the whole idea scares me a little.” Was it my imagination, or did Noah pull back at that, his arm jumping away from mine? “But good news, that's a new avenue to research, and one that won't take me to the Archives. I can do that at a regular, old-fashioned public library. And online,” I added as an afterthought.

“But you like having books in your hands.”

“Yeah, I like smelling them, too. You're a saint to put up with my book-nerd ways.”

Something soft touched my forehead, just near my temple. It was my turn to jump, but beside me, Noah looked happier than I'd seen him since...since the curse really started wearing on him, soon after it had happened. “Your book-nerd ways have been saving my life,” he said. “Thank you.”

Only then did I realize he'd kissed me.

#writeblr #fictober18 #original fiction #spookyromancenovel #my writing

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katestinyliving · 6 years

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I have been so behind on creating this post. This past week has been so hard for me for multiple reasons. None of which I’m specifically comfortable going on a public level about so for the sake of privacy and sanity, I’m keeping it private. I’ve had a lot of highs and a lot of lows. A lot of “talk downs” from Tristan, my parents, and Asa. It’s so dangerously close to Christmas, and I’ve been overwhelmed by to-do lists, anxiety, and fear.

Needless to say, crying is my new thing. Waterproof mascara is my beauty essential. I don’t think there’s a foundation in the world created to withstand the floodgate that is attached to my face, so I don’t even try.

I’ve been afraid of not getting my to-do list done by a deadline. Which is a big one for me. I am a planner. I like lists. I like checking things off and moving forward. But to be honest and 100% transparent I’ve had fear of not making enough money to be able to afford finishing the house or being able to afford a wedding… Etc. And by wedding, I’m not meaning some elaborate thing. I want simple. I want stress free. Anything flashy, showy, or that REMOTELY sounds like it could cause me any stress or drama is out. I don’t want it. And all of that goes for my house too. I just want zero drama.

And in reality I know the money is there. I know it will come. I’ve been diligent, praying, and asking for God to send me work and to help me recognize the opportunities He brings my way and to have wisdom with those opportunities. And He does. I know God provides because He has been providing for me every step of the way. I could tell you THOUSANDS of wild stories where God’s provided for me. But all of that is easier said than believed when you’re going through the thick of it and you’re hearing all these voices of discouragement in your head saying, “It ain’t gonna happen. How’s this gonna happen? You’re gonna finish your house, and get married within 5 months? HA!”

Isn’t it wild how God can do amazing things for us, and then when stress hits again, in that moment we sometimes totally forget how amazing and capable He is? Or is it just me? Cause I lose my mind and turn into an blubbering idiot, almost every time it feels like.

This does not mean I am labeled a doubter. This does not mean I don’t trust Him. This does mean I am human. This does mean I have struggles. This does mean I am learning and growing. And this does mean I am a child of the King.

Even Jesus himself in the garden of Gethsemane struggled! God himself in the form of man wept and had so much agony from stress, he sweat BLOOD. Jesus Christ experienced hematidrosis while praying in the garden of Gethsemane before his crucification. That is insane.

“And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was as it were great drops of blood falling down to the ground.” Luke 22:44

So I think if anyone understands my humanity, the battle of overcoming it, and needing help from the Father, it would be Jesus.

When you walk through the fire with Him… stuff gets real. FAST. And any honest, true believer, devoted, loving Christian worth their salt will tell you that it’s not all peaches and cream walking with Jesus. There’s a whole lot of humility, fear, and worry with learning to trust God. Even when He’s done miraculous things in the past, and you KNOW He will be right there with you through the fire again… It’s hard. And because it’s hard, doesn’t make you any more or less of a Christian. It just means where your at is hard. It’s growing pains. The process is hard. The journey is hard and it’s harder when you don’t include Jesus in your journey, or when you forget that He wants to be included in your journey. So we have to constantly invite Him into our situations and say, “Okay God. I’m here. Here is this thing. Help me to surrender. Help me to learn and to trust You during this time. It sucks and I hate it, but here’s where I’m at with it. Help me.”

But anyways, I’m getting off topic. I never started this post with the intention of getting that deep into my personal walk with Christ or being that transparent about it.

Maybe I will make a blog post going in-depth about it and about all the drama I have going on in my head, but I really want to get to the details of Construction Saturday.

Anywayssss…

This post is about last week’s Construction Saturday. Last Saturday I woke up to Daddy revving a chainsaw outside of my window getting ready to cut a tree down. This tree has been looking crazy dangerous and shady now for years, and we were all starting to get paranoid it was going to fall on someone’s vehicle(especially Asa’s), so the day finally came for it to come down.

Asa couldn’t be there that morning because he’s been having to work Saturdays lately. Which is sad, because I miss him terribly and it’s something I’ve been trying hard to gracefully adjust to. Plus it’s difficult because he’s genuinely a God-send when it comes to construction. I’m insanely proud of him. His long arms, strength, persistence, level-head, and height seriously helps SO much on construction days. And he has a calming presence for me, and I need that because I’m everything but calm. Plus he’s really good at following instructions, which is a trait I feel like is in short supply these days.

But instead of going all out on the house first thing that morning, Tony, Mama, and I decided to help Daddy clear the driveway. Which I enjoyed a lot. It was fun working as a team doing something different. And then afterwards, to my surprise, Daddy stayed that Saturday and helped us build the house. He’s usually doing ministry work or running his business, so it’s a lucky day when he can help me work on my house. Which was a God-send because he’s incredible at building things and the more fellas around with the muscle and the know-how, the better.

One thing that I think I really underestimated when I said I wanted to build my house was my own muscle strength.

I am not very strong in the arms. I’m not exactly weak, but it is not as easy for me to lift things like I thought it would be. If this house teaches me anything at all, I think it’s that: I need help. A lot of help. I CAN NOT do this by myself.

And that’s okay. That’s where the true blessing comes in. That’s where true love comes in.

I’m thankful for my crew and for everyone that has helped me with this house. We’re not out of the woods with it yet, but we are getting closer every time we work together. And everyday, despite whatever crippling emotion I’m having at the time from all the stress, I know God’s in it. I know He’s teaching me. I know it’s gonna work out. It might not be my timing, but it will be His and that’s all that matters.

Be sure to hover over my photos or click on them. I’m gonna add some captions so you know what is going on. And if you’re curious about my photography at all you can follow me here, and here, and look here at my website.

I hope everyone is having a wonderful season of Christmas despite whatever stressful circumstances you may be facing right now. Jesus loves you. I love you. We care about you and I am praying for you. Whomever you are reading this, you matter to me and I am praying for you.

Merry Christmas.

-Katie

This is right after the tree was cut down. Tony is inspecting it, while Daddy is cutting it up into movable pieces.

Tony always brings some kind of dessert to every event. He’s gonna make me fat, and I’m trying to get married. This is not the ideal situation, but it is a tasty one.

Close up of Daddy.

Cool angles. Yaknow. All about them angles.

This is Tony and Daddy making the best of the scrap pieces I had left over for the siding. Our goal was to trim out the windows and put siding on the windows.

I think you know what’s happening here.

Another angle of Daddy and Tony.

Man and his chainsaw. He cut up at least two other big old bushes that day. Daddy says it a dangerous time when a man buys a new chainsaw. Everything gets cut. This chainsaw isn’t new though, but I think the point is still there.

Biscuits Mama made for us! She keeps me going strong and happy. I love her so so so much!

Chalk line to keep things square!

Mama with a fancy dewalt finishing nailer. Us Weeks girls know about our tools and how to use them. I’m thankful for a Mama that has never let fear hold her back, as far as I know. Which has helped me and Tristan tremendously in having that “I can do anything I put my mind to” attitude. And forget about the whole gender thing. My whole life I knew I was just as good as a guy, thanks to my parents. When your born with no brothers, chores have no gender role. It’s “Girls! Do this. Do that!” Haha!

Daddy seeing if this piece of scrap will be long enough to cover the window.

Tony and Mama figuring out the measurements for the first window.

First window trim, done!

Holding the tape for Daddy.

Tony measuring to see the length of the glass I need to order for my stained glass Moon Phase window that Reflecting Light Stained Glass Studios will be making for me. I love custom pieces! https://www.reflectinglightstainedglass.com

Second window trimmed and finished!

Miter saws make life 100% more efficient and easier.

Third window finished! This is also my favorite window.

Mama working on taking apart the temporary table we made for the miter saw.

Wider angle, so you can see more of the house.

p.s. Please know that if someone else had the camera this day you would have seen me telling Tony to get off the ladder many times. Haha! I love him. He’s a crazy hard worker! I’m proud of my friend and could not have dreamed of a better person to learn from. Tony is a God-send. 100%!

12.16.17 | Tiny House Construction Saturday I have been so behind on creating this post. This past week has been so hard for me for multiple reasons.

#building #construction #georgia #Home #House #Kates Tiny Living #Katie Weeks Photo #team work #Tiny House #Tiny living

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floralseokjin · 7 years

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;little monster (m)

pairing— park jimin x reader | feat. kim namjoon genre/warnings— smut, voyeurism sort-of, auralism? masturbation, teasing, switch themes words— 8,844

:: summary— you've been good friends with your roommate Jimin for a while, occasionally flirting with each other, especially when you've had a drink, but nothing has ever happened between the two of you…until that is, he secretly listens to you and Namjoon have sex one day…He thinks you don't know, but he's wrong...

note— based on a request.

Jimin knew he fucked up from the very beginning. Although, there was really nothing he could do about it anyway. You thought he was out. He'd said so himself; he had work. Only it turned out the shift he was covering got double booked. He didn't mind, a day at home was a much better way to spend his Saturday than in work. However, somehow, he'd found himself stuck in the bathroom while you were getting happy with Namjoon—your latest squeeze.

It wasn't as if he was jealous or anything. He thought you were hot, of course and you got along extremely well. Maybe if things were different he would have even made a move on you—no, scrap that! He would have made a move on you, but as misfortune would have it, he couldn't. You guys were roommates. You guys could never probably be something because if you messed it up it would just turn awkward. Of course he could just move out, but he liked it here. You guys had a studio apartment big enough for him to be able to practise his dance and you to do your art. It was perfect, and besides he liked seeing you every day. So much so, that he knew deep down that if you guys were together he'd never want to let you go anyway.

He knew you liked him too. There were many time you guys flirted together—mainly when you were drunk. You were both more confident when you'd had a few, and there were many cryptic words shared and glances that lingered a little too long. Touches that didn't need to be done and way too much giggling to be considered normal, but he never made a move and neither did you. If you did he wouldn't be stuck in this goddamn bathroom right now, trying to scratch out his eardrums and hold onto his sanity.

He didn't even know you were still seeing Namjoon. It has been a few weeks since you'd met him at some English Lit class you'd taken in your free time, Jimin having no interest in that, but there you'd met Namjoon; a philosophy major who never shut up spouting whimsical nonsense. Jimin had seen him out and about before and he'd never struck him as the type you'd go for, but here you were. He'd even heard you on the phone to your friend telling her how amazing he was in bed—that figured; it was all about sex. If it was Jimin, he'd show you that there was the best of both worlds out there. He wasn't just some guy after a quick round and then nothing meaningful afterwards. He could give you more if you wanted. However, you probably didn't. You probably were just after sex as much as Namjoon. That was obvious this afternoon as you came through the door.

Being home alone, Jimin thought it was a great idea to shower with the door open and what more screamed freedom than that? That was his first mistake, or second, when he realised he should’ve let you know he was home. But it was too late. Maybe if he had just shut the door, you would have realised he was in. The bathroom looked over the living area at an awkward angle, slightly hidden by the kitchenette, but not enough to let him make a dash for it when he heard you enter, muffled giggling with Namjoon as it seemed you guys were already kissing. Jimin froze, praying to God you would just go into your room, so he could go back to his and get dressed as fast as possible and leave you alone, but luck wasn't on his side, and things were about to get a lot worse.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon murmured, already sounding breathless and Jimin heard you giggle, the sound making his heart jump a little.

“About to have sex with you—what do you think?” You deadpanned.

“What? Here?!” Namjoon half-shouted, surprised and you giggled again.

“No one’s here, Joonie,” you hushed.

Jimin raised his eyebrow—yeah, you were wrong there… Maybe he should pop his head out from around the corner and just let you guys know here was trapped in here, but he knew he was already too late. This would just be embarrassing… What else could he do though? At the same time, he peeked past the wall, you spoke again and he watched wide-eyed when he realised you were already in just your bra, your back to him as you began to unzip your jeans.

“I know you’ve always wanted to fuck me on the chaise,” you purred, and Jimin watched as you pushed at Namjoon’s chest, making him fall back and land on the lounge chair.

Fuck. Jimin pulled his head back in the bathroom, anxiety setting in. This was both mortifying and arousing at the same time. He didn't want to be that person, but it was kind of hard not to be when the girl he'd been lusting after was half naked in the living room about to have sex with somebody. He couldn't stop you in fear of embarrassing you, and he kicked himself for being so stupidly awkward it hurt his head, but at the same time he began to feel his stomach bubble in excitement, especially when he heard Namjoon moan throatily and Jimin could only imagine what you were doing to him right now.

He was actually trapped inside the bathroom and you were about to have sex only a few feet away from him. He panicked, a low whine of hopelessness leaving him as he felt sorry for himself. This was the worst, and then he heard you let out a moan and his throat constricted, something waking up down below. He fumbled about, grasping onto his crotch over his towel as he tried to control his thoughts and raging hormones, pleading with himself to keep his cool, but even as he tried, he felt his dick begin to turn hard as if it had a mind of its own—it did.

No matter how hard he shut his eyes and tried to take deep breaths he couldn’t get the image of you half naked out of his head—you were probably fully naked by now, on top of Namjoon. He was going to hell. He was a pervert, there was only one word for it, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it. He was stuck in here and he couldn’t not hear you guys, as yet another groan left Namjoon and then he spoke and Jimin felt his blood turn to molten lava.

“Baby, I didn’t know you were this dirty—out in the open like this,” he panted, and Jimin could hear the chaise groaning under the weight of your bodies. “What if your roommate comes back?”

“Then he can enjoy the show,” you replied and Jimin could hear the smirk in your tone and that’s when he bit back a groan.

He knew you were only playing along, teasing Namjoon, but you really had no clue that he was actually listening in right now, gripping his erection to him as if it was about to fall off. He tried to block out his thoughts, but all he could imagine was that he was the one making you moan right now, that his name was the name you were chanting right now and that he was the one inside of you. The thoughts made his dick even harder, the pressure building up so much he had no choice but to rub it over the towel that was wrapped around his waist. It was as if his body was acting without thinking and he began panting himself, his cheeks flushing as he tried to control himself. The urge to look around the corner was growing strong, but he bit down on his cheek.

He pressed himself back against the wall, but at the same time his elbow hit the shelf that held the shampoo and one bottle flew off and hit the floor. Jimin froze in fear, taking deep breaths as he tried to keep quiet. Was he done for? Was he about to get found out? Were you about to come in here and catch him half naked with an erection, wide-eyed and mortified? He began to sweat a little when he heard Namjoon speak, his voice strained and slightly nervous.

“What was that? Is there someone here?”

There was silence and then you giggled, relief flooding over Jimin as he heard you brush it off.

“Jimin probably left the bathroom window open—something blew down,” you dismissed and Jimin stood upright again, making his way to the toilet seat to sit down silently.

The relief didn't last for long. He was okay for now, but what would happen when you and Namjoon were done and you wanted to use the bathroom or something? He literally had nowhere to hide. He was done for…

You didn't know when you first realised Jimin was still at home. You recalled seeing a half-eaten bowl of cereal on the kitchen counter when you and Namjoon came in kissing, but you brushed it off as Jimin being too lazy to wash up after himself. You had thought you were alone when you and Namjoon began having sex on the chair but then you'd heard something fall from inside the bathroom.

The bathroom door was open, you remembered noticing that, but that didn't mean Jimin wasn't inside; he often liked showering with the door open when you weren't about and when you felt Namjoon’s body stiffen under yours in panic, your eyes quickly went to the front door—Jimin’s coat was still on the stand beside it and then you looked at the sideboard—his keys were still in the bowl. He was still here and he was in the bathroom. Trapped no doubt, too embarrassed to leave, but instead of feeling mortified, you began to get more turned on…

You dismissed Namjoon’s worries quickly, feeling a new-found confidence wash over you at the thought of Jimin hearing you have sex. You wondered if he was getting turned on. You hoped so. You hoped he wished he was the one underneath you instead of Namjoon. Truth was, you liked Jimin—a lot, but for some reason he just wouldn't make a move on you. You guessed he didn't want to ruin your friendship and risk having to move out. He liked it here, you both did, but that didn't mean you guys couldn't go there. But alas, his morals were too strong and by now you'd grown fed up. You had Namjoon were nothing serious, you knew your personalities didn't match but the sex was good, you guessed.

You were surprised to find out how much imagining Jimin listening to you turned you on and you found yourself being louder, making sure that he couldn't escape what was happening. You were so distracted by Jimin you almost forgot Namjoon was the one you were having sex with and found yourself counting down the minutes until it was over so you could kick him out (in a nice way of course, he wouldn't mind, not really. Not when he was after the same as you.)

Finally, when you guys were finished you both got dressed, you a little quicker than usual and said goodbye to Namjoon at the door, making sure to shut the door loud enough behind him and pause for a moment. You looked over at the bathroom door, unable to see anything inside at the angle but you smirked, imagining Jimin feeling some relief as the silence filled the room. Maybe he'd think you'd go back in your bedroom and he'd be free to make a dash for it, but if he did, that wasn't going to happen...and with that you began to pad towards the bathroom, feeling a little giddy and still horny.

The sight was even better than you imagined when you stopped at the doorway and saw Jimin wide-eyed in fear, sitting on the toilet seat in just a towel wrapped around his waist, with his hands clutched around his crotch. He was in a fluster as soon as he saw you, rushing to get his apology out.

“I-It’s not what you look like, Y-Y/N,” he blurted out, going to stand up but thinking better of it as he realised he was hiding the world’s biggest boner, so instead, he sat back, looking small and sheepish.

All you did was smirk at his reply, leaning up against the doorframe as you folded your arms. “Did you enjoy what you heard?”

Jimin stuttered, mouth falling open as he realised you knew all along. “Y-You knew—h-how?”

“Jimin,” you rolled your eyes. “First off all you weren't exactly quiet,” thinking back to the clatter earlier and your eyes fell to the floor, finding the shampoo bottle on the floor. “Second of all, your keys were still in the bowl—Tell me,” you ordered, raising your eyebrows, “did you pretend to have work so you could listen in?”’

“NO!” He spluttered out, looking positively incredulous. “No, there was a mix up with shifts. I-I thought I was home alone and then you came back…and I couldn't stop it in time…”

He trailed off and you stifled a giggle. He was cute when he was terrified. “It's not like I wanted to listen to you guys have sex,” and the grumble in his voice made you annoyed, so you bit back, your eyes raking over his crotch.

“Well, why are you gripping your dick to you as if your life depends on it?”

Jimin’s eyes widened further, looking as if he was contemplating the meaning of life. You knew he was hard, it was obvious. He had enjoyed hearing you have sex—you knew it!

“I-I-I promise I never watched anything, okay?” He practically begged, “I just heard it…fuck,” he muttered, feeling sorry for himself.

“Move your hands, let me see,” you ordered absentmindedly, feeling the flutter in your stomach. He'd gotten turned on my it and that's all you needed to carry on.

“What?” He deadpanned, confusion in eyes, his body stiffening as he became defensive.

“Let me see what I do to you,” you purred, biting your bottom lip slightly and he gulped. “Unless it was for Namjoon…” you teased with a smirk.

“No, no,” he shook his head quickly, and you weren't even sure he registered what you were saying anymore. You could practically see the cogs turning inside his brain. He was so close to having you how he imagined and same for you. If he let go and relaxed more, stopped worrying about stupid what ifs, then you guys could have fun together…maybe something even more serious…

Finally, he spoke quietly, his eyes looking up to catch yours as if he'd decided his fate, “it's all for you.”

The words came out slowly and your vision dipped to his hands, watching him slowly remove them from his crotch, revealing the bulge that you'd only dared imagine. Fuck. If you didn't have any self-control you'd dive straight on him—you'd been dying to feel his lips on yours since you'd first moved in together when you'd watched him practice some dance he had to do for class. The way he'd sucked down on his bottom lip while he concentrated had been almost too much to handle. You'd been hooked straight away, but it was him who had played hard to get—even if he had thought he was doing the right thing. So now, it was your turn.

You pulled yourself off the doorframe and slinked towards him, his eyes hungrily watching as you got closer and then you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands instantly reaching for the opening of his towel and his breath hitched, his stomach tensing up in anticipation. You'd already seen him topless many times but this time it was all too much and you clenched your thighs together to control the dampness in your panties, merging with the old arousal from when you'd been fucking Namjoon. It suddenly occurred to you that Jimin had got this turned on from listening to you have sex with another guy. Who knew he was this kinky?

You smiled sweetly, “Can I see properly?”

Jimin nodded eagerly, not even having to think about it and your heart began to thud in excitement as you slowly pulled his towel open, revealing his hard, throbbing dick, the head angry and swollen as it stood bobbing in front of your face. Jimin sighed in some sort of relief and pressed his back against the toilet, letting you stare at his full naked glory and it took everything in you had not to grab his dick in your hand and start stroking it.

“Really, you got this turned on from listening to me have sex?” You raised an eyebrow, feigning an unimpassioned voice.

Jimin faltered for a moment, despite his dick twitching and he sighed again, this time in discomfort. “Don't make me sound like a pervert. It was an accident…how was I supposed to control myself when you sounded so sexy?”

Your heart bloomed for a moment, pleased that he was in fact turned on because of you—not the situation. Did he want to be in Namjoon’s place? You wanted him to be. You took a deep breath, falling back slightly as you eyed him again, trying to control your voice but it came out slightly breathy anyway.

“Jimin…show me how much you want me.”

He frowned for a moment, not understanding what you meant until your eyes dipped to dick, “it's only fair—you heard me have sex, now let me watch you jerk yourself off,” you shrugged.

His eyes flashed, not believing you until your hands left his towel and he whined a little, but listened. You knew he would, he was desperate here, he'd been hard for so long and hadn't even done anything about it. You watched him grip himself by the base, moaning as he squeezed and then began to move up and down in jerky motions, obviously feeling uncomfortable. The tingling was back in between your legs and you watched him intently, soon enough picking up pace as he got more into it.

“Why didn't you do this whilst listening to me?” You asked, trying to act amused despite losing your resolve fast.

“I-I…it's weird,” he shrugged off. What and this isn't, you thought, but whatever, you liked it. You and Jimin were finally crossing the line from roommates and friends.

“Jimin…why did it get you so turned on?” You thought you knew the answer but you wanted to make sure.

“I…I just kept imagining you…and me,” he whispered, his hand motions slowing down as he true to process his thoughts. “I wanted to the one with you—not Namjoon,” and the way he spat his name had your stomach dropping in pleasure.

“I wanted it to be you too…I always do,” you admitted, feeling oddly vulnerable and out of place as you confessed something that had been on your mind for months and Jimin let out a choked breath, his grip speeding up now and it pushed your further.

“Honestly, I've never been so wet, knowing that you were hearing me have sex. I couldn't wait to get him out so I could get to you,” you spoke, your voice hushed, your hands creeping out to run along his thighs and he whined out, his head lulling as his hand sped up, bashfulness gone out the window now as his breathing became pants.

“Tell me what you want,” you urged, moving closer to him as he spread his legs, letting you in with another low moan.

He watched you with frantic eyes, his thighs tensing under your hands as you looked back at him with hooded lids, “you,” was all he uttered, his voice weak and you giggled.

“Doing what, Jimin?”

“Fuck—anything,’ he sighed out in pleasure, his hand slowing down and now jerking the base of his dick languidly.

“If you don't tell me what, I can't help you,” you smirked, “I'm not a mind reader.”

You moved even closer to him, dipping your head, just millimetres from his dick and he stuttered once again, “y-your mouth! I want your mouth. Just quit it! Stop teasing me, I've wanted you for so long.”

You smirked wider, ignoring the glow in your chest as you descended, protruding your tongue out to lick across the head of his dick, tasting the bitterness of his pre-cum. He gasped loudly, jumping up a little at the sensation, his eyes stuck on your mouth as you licked across him again and began sucking at the sensitive flesh. His hand stopped moving immediately, his mouth open in silent moans as he watched you go, settling the hand on his bare torso. He hissed when you sucked particularly harshly and you grinned up at him, feeling pretty damn happy you were finally getting somewhere with Jimin.

“More,” he muttered, his hand coming out to touch your hair, trying to coax you into tasting the rest of his dick.

You pulled your head back to lick a strip up the underside of it before swirling your tongue around the tip as it bobbed around your lips and he let out an exasperated laugh.

“You're trying to kill me, Y/N. Don't you think you need to reward me for making me listen to you having sex? You got me this hard, so you need to do something about it,” he scolded, his mouth turning up into a side smirk.

Well. It didn't take him that long to change his tune, did it, you thought and your eyes flashed, taking him in your mouth half way, fluttering your tongue around him and he moaned loudly. You felt your arousal grow more, but ignored it. There'd always be next time for Jimin to see to you and right now you wanted to please just him. His hand weaved through your hair as he anchored you place, his cheeks flush as he watched you begin to bob your head up and down his length.

“You don't know how much I've imagined this moment right now,” he panted, letting himself go as he let out a groan, his head falling back and the veins in his neck bulging as you took him deeper, humming along his dick as you gripped the base, using it as a barrier to not go too far and choke.

His breathing grew frantic as he watched you and you never took your eyes off his as you began to move your fist with your mouth, pleasuring him to the hilt as his stomach clenched, his legs stiffening as they tightened around your arms and you pulled your mouth off him, licking up his length again as you moved, using your saliva to rub into him as he practically shook under you.

“I'm g-gonna cum,” he gasped, watching you with wide-eyes as if he couldn't believe it, and you squeezed tighter around him, flattening your tongue against the head to wait for the spurts of his release, your hand jerking him faster than before as he let out a whine.

“Fuck—fuck,” he repeated quietly, his voice weak as the first drops of come landed on your tongue and you let him back in quickly, covering him in your wet mouth as you swallowed the rest that flew out, looking up at him to see his eyes were now closed, his other hand pushing his fringe out of his eyes, his hair still damp from his shower and you watched in awe, dick still in your mouth, at how beautiful he was.

Once you pulled away slowly, letting his dick fall against his leg, he opened his eyes again and reached for your hair, both hands entwined in the strands now as he let out an amazed giggle.

“That was amazing—oh my god—really, I've never cum so quick in my life,” he grinned and you laughed along with him, pulling away from him as his grip fell, to get it off the hard floor.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it,” you replied smugly. “My turn next time?”

Jimin watched you with wide-eyes as you began to walk out the bathroom, “What about now? I can get hard again in seconds—I promise!”

“But where's the fun in that? I'm sure you can wait!” You teased, turning back to wave him off as you left and you heard him chuckle in annoyance, before calling to you, “Fine! Next time it is!”

Only next time took longer than you thought. Maybe you were both under the impression the other world come to one another first, but you thought, in your mind, that Jimin should be the one to make the move. After all, you’d made the first move on him in the bathroom. If he really wanted you the way you hoped then he should have no problem coming into your bedroom and fucking you until you couldn't think straight.

Alas, as (no) luck would have it you both seemed to be pretty busy the next week. You had an art project that was due and he had to go and teach some kids to dance as some sort of extra credit. You heard him come home in the evenings but you were in your room writing essays for that stupid Lit class you'd decided was a bright idea a few weeks ago. Maybe you were just bitter that Jimin didn't seem to be taking the bait and now, just over a week later, you were angry and ready to give up.

He'd been in work all evening and you'd taken a much-needed pampering bath to reduce stress. Right now, you were sitting on your bed wrapped in a towel while painting your toe nails a pretty turquoise colour. Maybe you'd phone Namjoon up, if Jimin wasn't interested at all… You hadn't seen him since that day, knowing that you didn't really want him if Jimin was going to act on the sexual tension between you two. It was okay, there would be no love lost between you and Namjoon seeing as you knew he was using you for sex just as much as you were for him, but if you were just going back to square one with Jimin, then maybe it didn't matter…or maybe you just wanted to make Jimin jealous…

You were moving onto your left foot when you heard Jimin come in from work, his keys jiggling as he placed them in the bowl and the bump of his sneakers as he kicked them off. The pads of his feet started moving until they stopped for a second and then carried on again. You tried to hide your excitement when you saw him stop by your door and cough to clear his throat.

“Hey,” he greeted, as if trying to be nonchalant.

“Hey,” you repeated, looking up at him slowly, just as seemingly unbothered. This was the most you'd said to each other since the bathroom, and you winced a little, memories flooding back to you as you remembered the moans and faces he'd pulled whilst you were sucking his dick. You were sure you'd been wet ever since, and the more you thought about it the more you wished you'd taken him up on the offer of now.

“Are you busy? Going out anywhere?” He asked, looking down at the floor quickly when you caught his eyes running down your legs. You shifted quickly, unsure if you were giving him a view you'd rather not—not yet, anyway.

“I'm not going anywhere,” you shook your head.

“Oh.” He remarked. “Okay. Mind if I come in and hang around for a bit then? We, er, haven't talked in a while…”

Wow. Smooth move, Jimin, but of course you nodded, beyond a little excited at the prospect of what was going to happen, unless that was, he was going to tell you he didn't want anything else to happen between the two of you, and you felt a little sad at the thought. He walked in quickly, but then paused when he wondered where to sit, opting for the edge of your bed and he looked down at your feet, watching you finish painting your nails. You waited for him to say something, not wanting to be the first to give. It took one whole minute.

“D-Do…” he shook his head, trailing off to start again. “Do you regret what happened the other day?”

“No,” you answered, frowning slightly. So that's why he hadn't made a move yet, he thought you regretted it? “Of course I don't.”

“Really?” He asked, looking surprised, as if he'd doubted you'd want him back and you bit back a smile. How could someone be so cute and sexy at the same time? You could swear it was impossible, but here was Jimin—you'd seen it with your own eyes.

You simply shook your head, “do you?” You needed to know, so if he did, you could move on from this silly little dream you had where you and Jimin could possibly be together.

“No!” He half-shouted, sounding flabbergasted that it could be a possibility. “I don't, not one bit…it's just…you never—I mean, you said n-next time but you n-never—

“I thought you'd make the next move,” you interrupted, trying to ignore the excitement in your stomach as you realised he did want you. He was just a bit nervous and confused, you could tell, especially by the way he was muddling up his words.

“I-I didn't know if you wanted me to,” he replied slowly, words precise as they shook a little and you finished painting your baby toe, ignoring the way your hand shook as you screwed the lid back on the bottle and placed it on your nightstand.

“I do,” was all you replied, being careful to use present tense as you eyed him carefully, one of his hands picking at your bed cover as he swallowed loudly.

“I'm just scared it will change something between us—what if something bad happens…”

There he went with his bona fide morals again. You thought you'd broken them in the bathroom last week. If he didn't want to, that was fine—you weren't going to force him. But that didn't mean you weren't upset that he was still having doubts. You thought he liked you as much as you liked him, but his complete lack of faith in you guys has you hesitant yourself. There was only one option. An ultimatum.

“I think things changed last week already, Jimin,” you said, your voice strong. “If you don't want this, it's fine, but if you do—kiss me. Kiss me or get out and we can forget this ever happened.”

You didn't want to forget about it, but you would if that meant you could keep Jimin in your life. It would hurt to know you almost got what you wanted only to have it torn away from you, but you'd do it. For him. However, to your surprise he looked you straight in the eyes, his gaze intent as he mulled over your words, and then he dived for your body.

You had enough time to process what was happening to widen your legs, letting him fit perfectly in between your body as your towel spread open a little, leaving little to the imagine and a cold breeze to shoot between your legs—not that he noticed anyway. He was too busy gripping your face and mashing his lips with yours, a moan of satisfaction leaving him as he felt them collide for the first time—you joining him as finally the curiosity about his plush lips left you. You gripped his shoulders, pressing him to you as he pulled away, a coy smile playing on his face.

“I think I'd rather kiss you.”

The bubble of excitement intensified as he went back to your mouth, parting your lips with his as he merged them together, the kiss deepening when you felt the tip of his tongue reach to find yours and then suddenly they were pressing against each other, tasting each other for the first time, after months of anticipation. His hands slid to your hips, gripping them tightly through the towel as little moans of pleasure left him and you wound your arms around his neck, losing yourself inside the kiss. It wasn't until you felt his fingertips playing with the opening of your towel that you pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss with a pop as his eyes glistened above you.

“Can I see?” He asked, his voice sweet and high, as if he was teasing you and then you remembered; you'd said more or less the same thing to him the other day in the bathroom.

You nodded quickly, now knowing for certain where this thing was going as he took a deep breath and slowly pulled your towel open, revealing your skin that had definitely fully dried by now. The cool breeze hit you, hardening your nipples even more and you watched Jimin as he looked over your body in awe, a breathless sigh leaving him that got caught in his throat. You were about to shift uncomfortably under his gaze when he finally moved into action, his mouth back on yours, pecking small kisses as he moved to your chin and then neck.

“Better than I imagined,” he hummed against your skin, his lips moulding up and down as his tongue glided across your throat too and you shuddered a little, goosebumps forming. “Obviously,” and you felt him grin against your skin, his clothed body flush against your naked one; a startling contrast, and it turned you on even more; remembering how he was fully bare last week while you looked on.

You moaned out when you watched him begin to kiss towards your breast, puckering against the nipple before his tongue curled around it again and again, one hand coming up to message the other one and you arched your back off the bed, your fingers now gripping the towel under your body.

“Jimin…” you breathed and he moaned in response, loving the way his name fell off your tongue so perfectly, the vibrations going straight to core and you shifted uncomfortably, wanting to close your legs to ease the pressure but unable to because of his body on top of yours. You could even feel the tell-tale signs of his hard dick pressing against your heat and that just made you want him more.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear you moan my name instead of his,” he murmured, and you guessed by the insinuation, he meant Namjoon.

Had Jimin always been listening to you have sex with Namjoon? You knew the walls were thin, and you’d actually heard him get lucky a few times, but the idea of Jimin wishing he was someone else whilst he heard you getting fucked was pretty hot and you wondered how many times he’d gotten hard hearing you moan?

He made his way down your stomach, making sure to swirl his wet tongue over your quivering flesh, moving down the bed as you now widened your legs on instinct. There was only one place he was going, right?

“What do you want me to do?” He whispered, failing to hide the smirk on his face. He was teasing you again! Using your past words against you and you whined.

“I think you should go down on me—y’know seeing as I sucked you off in the bathroom…”

He knelt up then, his eyes on your core, drinking in the image. “Y/N, you don’t have to guilt me into eating you out—I want to do it…”

Your stomach flipped at his words, your clit pulsing in anticipation as you watched him shuffle onto his stomach, his arms moving under your thighs to spread them even further and pull you towards him, kissing up the inside of your leg as he moved closer and closer. It had been a while since anybody had gone down on you, mainly because Namjoon didn’t like doing it, so watching Jimin place such a frank and open mouthed kiss against your clit made you moan loudly and lift your hips to meet him, feeling his tongue swirl against you and merge with your wetness, one of your hands reaching out to pull at his hair and watch him begin to practically make out with your sex, your legs already beginning to shake against his shoulders.

As you were getting lost watching Jimin’s tongue glide across you, your cell began to vibrate on your beside drawer and you sighed in annoyance, reaching for it to knock it off, obviously not wanting any disruptions. However, as you reached over, you saw the name flashing up on the screen and got a wild idea… Jimin had already made it clear he liked hearing you have sex, so what about if the tables were turned? What if a certain someone heard you guys?

You quickly grabbed your phone, turning it to face Jimin, who was already looking at you slightly confused and when he read the name Namjoon and saw you slide across to answer it, he went to protest.

“Keep going,” you whispered quickly, your hand pushing his head down, when he pulled away from your heat and Jimin looked on wide-eyed as you spoke into the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Baby, are you busy?” Namjoon asked, his voice smooth—obviously only after one thing…

Jimin could only hear a one-sided conversation and his gaze was hard as he tried his best to hear Namjoon too. He wasn’t continuing so you shot him a look quickly, beginning to circle your mound against his face. Instinctively he jutted his tongue out, as if he couldn’t help himself and you bit back a moan—which he seemed to like—a lot, so he did it again, finally getting the message.

“N-Namjoon, hey,” you stuttered, trying to concentrate on what Jimin was doing and putting together a coherent sentence. “I’m actually in the middle of something right now…” and you looked down at Jimin, who cocked an eyebrow at your response, now circling the tip of his tongue around your clit.

“What?” Namjoon whined, “you can’t give it up even if it involves me and you getting naked,” he teased and you laughed loudly, obviously fake.

Namjoon was perfectly fine as a person, but he did tend to think he was some type of God when it came to sex. Little did he know that to get that kind of status you needed to be willing to get his face all kinds of dirty—specifically what Jimin was doing right now and you watched him with lidded eyes, your mouth open in silent cries of pleasure as he licked a strip up your slit before sucking on your clit harshly, an amused giggle catching in his throat at your reaction when you clamped down on his hair tightly. You didn’t know if it was your idea to actually let Namjoon hear you have sex, but it was slowly getting there…

“Are you watching a movie or something?” Namjoon asked when you didn’t reply to his offer and you cleared your throat, letting go off Jimin’s head to run it through your fringe, trying to calm down the quiver in your voice.

“Yeah…with Jimin,” you got out and at the sound of his name, Jimin sped up, flattening his tongue as he practically buried his whole face in your mound, and this time you couldn’t help the moan that fell off your lips, feeling Jimin pin you down and hold you in place.

The feeling was building up in your stomach and you bit down on your lip, not expecting to nearly come this quickly, but with the way this phone call was going, it wasn’t going to be long. The fact that Jimin seemed to be so into just turned you on and you moaned again, this time not caring that Namjoon could hear. He’d get over it—he only cared about the sex. He’d find some other girl soon enough, no doubt.

“Y/N, what the hell is going?” Namjoon asked, his voice on edge, as if he suspected something but didn’t want to say it out loud.

You grinned down at Jimin, pulling the phone away from your ear so that you could put loud speaker on, wanting Jimin to hear too, and then you set it back on your nightstand, hearing Namjoon repeat your name over and over again, trying to get your attention.

“Are you having sex right now?” He sounded angry now and you stifled a giggle, your heart going ninety to the dozen with the adrenaline rush. This was beyond crazy, but watching Jimn’s eyes flash with mischief as he ate you out vigorously only spurred you on even more and you let his name fall off your tongue with a breathy moan, one of your hands coming out to cup your own breast and squeeze down, making Jimin growl against you.

“JIMIN?! Are you fucking kidding me right now, Y/N? Are you actually having sex with your roommate whilst on the phone to me?”

Namjoon sounded so annoyed, you almost felt guilty, but then you remembered that it was just his ego taking a bashing and you moaned louder.

“I knew there was something going on between you and him,” he spat. “Whatever, I hope you’re happy together, weirdos,” and at his parting line he hung up.

It took you a while to process what happened, and you’d probably feel embarrassed about it in the morning, but right now all that mattered was how into it Jimin seemed to be and you raised your eyebrow as you looked at him, “I guess he didn’t like it,” you said, feigning innocence.

“Well obviously,” Jimin growled, leaving your core and you instantly tried to lock him back in place with your thighs—you would’ve come soon. “There’s some other guy about to fuck his girl.”

You were about to protest—you weren’t Namjoon’s girl at all, far from it. You were no one’s girl—well, unless Jimin wanted you to be his…but before you could even think to say anything, you watched Jimin rip off his t-shirt, revealing his tanned, toned chest, the muscles flexing with each deep breath he took. He stood off the bed and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them off with his underwear in one fell swoop, his dick bouncing up and hitting stomach, before bobbing in place.

Oh God. You were about to have sex with him. It was actually happening, after all this time imagining and you gulped, watching him take his place back on the bed as he kneeled over you, pumping his length in his hand, the tip already leaking pre-cum, which he ran over the hard flesh, twisting his hand as he went and you spread your legs, feeling your dampness cool in the air.

“You sure like teasing me, don’t you?” He goaded slightly, his eyes dark and you stuttered. This Jimin was even hotter than usual. He settled himself between you, his knees pressing against your ass cheeks as you lifted your legs higher, practically whining now as you hooked them around his waist, bring him even closer and feeling the head of his dick press against your clit.

“Does it make you laugh? Knowing how much I want you? Do you laugh about it behind my back?” He carried on, and you shook your head violently, feeling more and more turned on as the seconds passed.

The pressure was too much and you could feel your whole heat begin to pulse in anticipation, your entrance contracting around nothing as the need to be filled—to be filled by Jimin—took over your body and you squeezed your legs around him tighter, close to crying; instead you whined.

“Or maybe you want me just as much?” He asked, his eyebrow cocking up. “Is that right?”

You nodded this time, words failing you as you felt him slip the head of his dick to your hole. He was so close you could practically feel him stretching you out already.

“You really want my cock that much? I can feel you pulsing against me as if you haven’t been fucked in months—we both know that isn’t true…” he teased and you groaned, losing the will to live and you brought your hands up to wrap around his forearms, desperately trying to make him enter you.

“What do you want?” He asked, this time his voice barely above audible volume, watching you with a wide smile as you squirmed around.

“God, Jimin—fuck me!!!” You practically shouted, as frustrated as ever now. “Fuck me now, before I cum from the sheer anticipation.”

Jimin chuckled, but before you could think of something clever to say, he pushed straight inside of you and you gasped, digging your nails into his arms as the feeling took over; painful pleasure as he stretched you out so suddenly your toes curled and you looked up to see Jimin biting down on his bottom lip, neck strained as he tried to keep his cool—serves him right for being so smug, you thought, and to get at him some more you clenched down on his dick, gliding your hips downward so he’d slide against you and he let out a choked moan.

Yeah, you fucker, take that, you thought.

“Do I feel good, Jimin?” You teased, faux-sweetness in your voice and he groaned in reply, his hands grasping for your hips as he began to pound into you, his face flushed and his bottom lip bright red as he risked the chance of breaking the skin, animalistic moans leaving his throat as you began to moan loudly.

“Not as good as this is for you,” he bit out, his gaze hard. “You’re so wet your dripping onto the towel.”

He was right—you were. You could feel it underneath your ass and you could hear it in the form of squelching noises every time he slipped in and out of you. Having sex with Jimin was out of this world. You didn’t know whether it was because he had teased you for so long, or if he really was just this good. Maybe it was even because you were finally getting to feel him inside of you and it was just too overwhelming to comprehend.

“Ugh, Jimin,” you got out, your voice sounding choked as you tried to vocalise how you felt, but it was no use, you were finding it too hard to speak.

“Is this your way of telling me you want more?” He questioned, the glint back in his eyes, and you would have kicked him for being so smug if he wasn’t so correct, and you watched in amazement as he let go of your hips to grab your calves that were still circled around him, prying them open to lift them up to his shoulders.

The feeling was even more intense from the word go and you cried out as he shifted over your body, gaining leverage as he fucked you harder into the bed, the strain of the veins in his neck evident as he went. You felt your walls tighten around him involuntarily as he got deeper and deeper inside of you, strained groans leaving him and you began chanting his name.

“Yeah, that’s right, babe—shout my name,” he grunted. “Who’s fucking you? Oh, that’s right—me, Jimin,” and you let another strangled moan leave your lips, your body hot and sweaty, chest flushed as you felt the familiar feeling begin to build up. You needed to come.

“I-I’m gonna c-cum—

“So easily pleased,” he sighed, although by the sounds of his voice he was close too and then he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing furiously until you were squirming underneath him, incoherent moans and gasps leaving you as the coil in the pit of your stomach tightened, your toes curling and your head pushing back into the pillow as you finally felt it release, pleasure shooting up your bones, and you exclaimed, watching Jimin all the while as you came, your thighs in the air shaking madly as you clenched around his dick, feeling instantly weak as your orgasm ebbed away.

“Fuck,” Jimin cursed, letting your legs fall off his shoulders as he began thrusting into you harder, his hips pistoning as he growled, taking himself to the point of no return before he quickly pulled out, grunting as he shuffled quickly, kneeling over you as he jerked himself off, his seed spilling onto your stomach in hot, white bursts.

His pants and grunts still sounded around the room as he rode out his own release and you murmured in contentment as you watched. You’d never felt this amazing before and your heart glowed a little when you watched him reach over you and grab a tissue from the box on your night stand, cleaning your stomach before doing the same to his dick and then he chucked it in the bin from where he knelt.

Silence filled the room then, and you couldn’t tell if it was awkward or not. You’d wanted to have sex with Jimin for so long, but what now? Was that it? Would that be enough for him, and off he went on his merry way? It definitely wasn’t enough for you. You wanted more already.

You sighed a little in relief when he fell back onto the bed next to you, his chest still heaving a little and his eyes half closed. He wasn’t going to run off just yet then…and you turned on your side, facing him to run your fingers down his sweaty chest, liking it when he shuddered slightly.

“How long will Namjoon be mad for, do you think?” He asked suddenly, his voice still a little weak and you widened your eyes. Why would you care?

“What do you mean?”

“How many times do you think you’ll have to apologise before he wants to fuck you again?” He shrugged, as if you were missing something. You were.

“But I don’t want to fuck him again,” you replied slowly, sounding confused and Jimin opened one eye to look at you, query on his features.

“You don’t?”

“No,” you shook your head. Maybe it was Jimin who was missing something. “There is a guy I want to fuck again, but it isn’t Namjoon,” you explained, letting your hand dip to his stomach, tickling the light hairs that collected by his belly button.

“Huh?” He asked, both eyes open now as he took one of his hands to clasp yours, stopping your action. “I-I thought…”

“What did you think—that this was a one off?” You prodded. “I don’t want it to be. Do you?”

Jimin took a while to answer, his eyes darting around as he realised what was going on. You were being brave here. You weren’t 100% sure he wanted anything more than a one wonder fuck, but you were pretty sure, so you took the chance. However, the longer he took to answer the more nervous you got of rejection. Your heart wouldn’t be able to handle it, not now you’d gotten this close to knowing what it would be like to have Jimin in your life like this all the time.

As the silence drew on you tried to pull your hand away from him, ready to tell him to get out and leave you alone to brew in your own humiliation, but he held on to it, a breathless chuckle leaving him as he looked at you.

“If I knew this was going to be a regular thing I wouldn’t have fucked you so hard—I-I thought that was my only chance to impress.”

Your heart jumped, but you scoffed, hitting him slightly with your caught hand, trying to hide the grin that was desperate to appear.

“That’s okay,” you shrugged, leaning over him so that your mouth was hovering over his and he went a little cross-eyed, trying to focus on you, making you giggle. “You have enough time to fuck me anyway you want…starting with now if you want…?” You murmured, your focus on his lips as they pulled up into a small smile, before he was kissing you hard, your lips pressed up against one another as if you never wanted to pull away.

You didn’t…

You wanted Jimin—you wanted all of him…

#jimin smut #bts smut #kwritersnet #jimin scenarios #jimin fanfic #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #jimin x reader #floralseokjin:writings #fic:little monster #archive

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P.I.S.T. - Chapter 7

Emily had been a vicar for five weeks now. This was her fourth sermon. As she took to the pulpit and began to address the congregation, she noticed that one of her parishioners was absent.

She saw the woman’s husband, a tall, bulky man with messy hair and deep set eyes. He always stank of booze and she understood that he had a drinking problem. She had been concerned about this but didn’t want to pry, especially as she was new. But his wife often came in with bruises about her face. She had been meaning to find out what was going on there and if there was anything she could do to help the situation. But she meant to take a cautious, measured approach to the matter and gently tease out the facts without upsetting things too much. This week the wife was not in the congregation, which only made Emily more concerned than usual.

As she continued her sermon, the congregation hushed and attentive as she addressed the large room, she could feel the angel on her back stirring uncomfortably. “Focus,” it whispered in her ear. “You ask too many questions. You are wilful and rebellious, like all sinners. Focus on preaching God’s word. Stop looking for problems. That’s the sinful nature in you.”

For five weeks she had been learning to cope with her new companion. It was always with her. It never left her. And yet no one else could see it.

She still called it her angel, as she did not dare to challenge its nature openly. It knew everything she thought or said. It even seemed to sense her doubts when she tried her best to hide them, even from herself. She could feel it bristling with discomfort and annoyance whenever the merest hint of doubt or displeasure surfaced within her. If she openly questioned whether the thing was really an angel and whether the thing was even good, there was no telling what it might do. It chastised her and told her she was worthless, rebellious and sinful on an almost daily basis anyway. What worse thing would await her if she openly challenged it?

Emily was even starting to doubt her own sanity. Was the creature even real? Did she imagine the whole thing? Was she mentally ill? She could feel its presence and every time she looked around she could see its ugly face. But no one else noticed it or commented on it. The creature seemed invisible to all but her.

After the service, she shook the hands of all the congregation as they left. When Mr. Baines approached she asked him about his wife.

“How’s your wife, Cathy?” Emily asked. “I see she’s not here today. Is she ill?”

“She’s had an accident,” the big man replied. He looked ridiculous in his smart clothes, like he was too big for them, and he stank of alcohol and cigarettes. “She’s in hospital.” He was a man of few words and there was no visible emotion on his big, brutish face.

“Oh, what a pity,” said Emily with a fake smile, trying her best to be polite and professional even though she hated the man. “I will pray for her. Send her my regards when you see her. What happened?”

The man’s eyes shiftily darted left and right for a moment. She could almost see the cogs working in his simple mind. “Car crash,” he said at last. He’d clearly just thought of that on the spur of the moment. Why the sheepishness? What had really happened?

“Well,” Emily said, shaking the man’s hands and smiling again. “I hope she gets well soon. See you again next week.”

After all the hand shaking was done, Emily walked back inside the church with the intention of tidying up and eventually retiring to her chambers for lunch. But one of the congregation returned and called out to her.

She spun round. It was Cathy’s sister, Margery. She was a thin, wiry looking woman in her early forties. Her greying black hair was long and unkempt and her face was lined with worry and stress. “Might I have a word with you in private, vicar?” She said.

“Of course,” Emily replied, looking around at the empty chapel. “There’s no one else here now. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“My sister isn’t in hospital because of a car crash,” said Margery. “It was him.”

This confirmed Emily’s suspicion. “Does he hit her?” she asked, screwing up her face in concern.

“Drunken bastard,” Margery swore, her face scowling with rage, “without a scrap of compassion in his big, ugly body. Yes, he hits her. He gets drunk and he shouts at her, bashes her and worse. He’s horrible when he’s drunk. This time she ended up in hospital,” she added, becoming increasingly animated and passionate. “I’ve told her. I said to her many times to leave him. Move back with your mum, I’d say. He’s no good. She just keeps talking about her marriage vows and being a good wife.”

Emily was torn. Church teaching did hold marriage sacred. “Well, I…” she began but Margery cut her off.

“Begging your pardon,” she continued, “I don’t like to speak poorly of the church or anything. But Rev. Williams, the previous vicar, he spoke to her many times about the abuse she was suffering. He counselled her. But all he did was tell her to pray and to continue to be a good wife to her husband. He was useless in this matter. Don’t you think the church has a responsibility to keep its parishioners safe?” She paused briefly, letting the question hang in the air. “I mean if she is in real danger, then shouldn’t a compassionate Christian organisation be doing all it can to help her, instead of advising her to just put up with it and be obedient and good? What the fuck is that? Excuse my French.”

Emily took it all in, unruffled by the swearing. It hurt her heart to think of that woman suffering. “I’ll do all I can,” she said with a compassionate smile.

“Well, I hope you do,” said Margery. “I don’t come very often these days. Sick to death in my very heart with it all. But perhaps you’ll be better than the last vicar.” She almost turned to go but then stopped herself and turned back around. “She’s such a sweet girl,” she continued, love and concern on her stressed, haggard face. “It’s not fair that she should be married to a heartless bastard like him. We don’t even speak no more, me and him. He’s a vicious asshole. Sorry for the language, vicar, but it’s very upsetting. She’s my sister. And she’s in hospital because of him.”

“I understand,” Emily said compassionately. It was all very distressing. “And I hope I can change your mind and help you see that the church does care. I will do all I can to help.”

“Thank you,” Margery said with a smile. “What a joy it is to have a female vicar for a change.” Then she turned and left.

Susan, the church secretary, was printing out some letters when Emily walked into the admin office of the church. “Good sermon,” she said, barely even looking at Emily as she continued her work. The printer whirred away as page after page dropped into the tray. Susan took out the pages and started putting them into envelopes.

“Thank you,” Emily replied. “Do you know much about Cathy Baines and her husband? I’ve just been told she’s in hospital and the sister told me that it was her husband that put her there.”

Susan stopped what she was doing and frowned slightly. She was a plump lady, blonde and with long manicured fingernails. She was also the kindest, bubbliest, nicest lady that Emily had met in a long time. She looked up at Emily and answered. “Rev. Williams was counselling her,” she said. “The husband is known to be a violent drunk, it’s true. Very sad.”

“Well, can I see the notes from the counselling sessions?” Emily asked. “I think that now they’re my parishioners that I’m responsible for their wellbeing.”

“Yes, of course,” Susan frowned again, looking puzzled and worried. “Only I don’t know where he kept the notes. A lot of that old paperwork is down in the basement. You could look there I suppose. I never go down there myself.” She added the last comment almost as an aside.

“Why not?” Emily asked, suddenly intrigued.

Susan visibly shuddered. “I don’t like to think about it,” she said, avoiding eye contact.

Emily stared, puzzled for a while and Susan got back to work. “You should leave well alone,” said the angel on her back. “This is a distraction from the Lord’s work.”

“Did you hear that?” Emily asked.

Susan looked up from her work again. “Hear what?” She said, looking confused.

“Can you see it on my back?” Emily asked, turning round to show her.

Susan looked wide eyed at Emily, as if scared. The look in her eyes said that she thought Emily was touched. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a nervous smile. “There’s nothing on your back.”

Emily sighed. It was just as she thought. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. Then she turned to leave.

She passed Peter, the groundsman, on her way down to the basement.

“This way leads to the basement, right?” She asked the old man.

“Yes,” he said in an uncertain tone, stopping and turning to face her with one eyebrow raised. “But I wouldn’t go down there if I were you.”

She looked him up and down. His clothes were creased and his trousers and shoes were splattered with mud. His long, talon-like fingernails were dirty and yellowed. His beard was unkempt and he smelled of sweat. He wasn’t a very attractive man and he had a kind of leering creepiness about him that made her uncomfortable.

“What do you mean?” She asked, narrowing her eyes with suspicion.

“I just wouldn’t,” he replied, taking a deep breath. “There’s something nasty down there.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Some dark secret that the Church keeps hidden?” She said, only half seriously, before adding angrily, “or paperwork that nobody wants me to see?” She was getting a bit fed up with all the games people were playing with her. Why couldn’t people just tell the truth?

“No, it’s not that.” He said, shaking his head. “There’s something lurking down there,” he added, widening his eyes dramatically and fixing her with a foreboding stare, “a dark presence.”

“Oh, please!” She said, mockingly quoting The Empire Strikes Back. “That place is strong with the dark side. A domain of evil, it is. Do me a favour and pull the other one. It’s got bells on.”

He merely shrugged and walked away. “I warned you,” he said, shaking his head.

“Look at yourself,” the angel said as she opened the door and descended the steps, “look at all your pride and arrogance. Your cocky rebellious streak is an offence against God. After all he did for you when he died upon the cross. You defy your elders, pry when you’ve been told to let it go. When are you going to turn your back on all your sin and wickedness?”

“Not now,” she whispered to it. “We can talk about this later. I just want to see for myself what Rev. Williams wrote.”

The place was dark, the walls slimy and it smelled of damp, but she turned on the light and it gave a dim glow to the surroundings. There were plenty of crates and bric a brac but there were also some boxes. She made a beeline for the boxes and immediately started rummaging around, rifling through the papers, looking for the notes.

The room turned suddenly cold as she searched the boxes and there was a dull kind of croaking. But she paid it no mind. Old buildings like this could often play tricks on you. If the creak of wind or a sudden drop of temperature was all it took to make people believe the place was haunted by some kind of “dark presence” then she knew she had little to worry about.

There was a lot of paperwork to get through, a lot of notes from various meetings and counselling sessions. It was going to take quite some time to find what she was looking for.

Suddenly she saw a black shape out of the corner of her vision. The barely perceptible croaking sound got louder and angrier until it was a deep growling. She turned to look at the shape. It was like a cloud of shadow with two red eyes. A mouth opened up and revealed large needle like teeth.

“What the…?” She said.

“It’s your fault!” It said in a deep, throaty voice, full of barely suppressed fury. “You brought me here! You killed me and then brought me back. Fuck all you priests and your evil church!”

It roared at her with rage and lunged towards her. There was a gust of wind and the papers flew everywhere. Suddenly it was upon her, all teeth and claws, eyes and shadow. “I will make you fall!” It screamed. “I will bring your religion down and eat your soul!”

It was insubstantial. The shadows moved through her like wind. It felt icy cold and she wondered if she could die just from the chill.

She turned and ran but it chased after her. It roared and screamed, incomprehensibly now, the frantic ranting having turned into non-verbal noise. “It can’t harm me,” she told herself. “It has no body.” Yet claws appeared and she felt them scratch at her while teeth gnashed angrily only inches from her face.

She wasn’t going to risk it. She dropped what she was carrying and hurried back upstairs and out through the door, with not a single piece of paperwork to show for her trouble.

She stood with her back to a wall, panting desperately until she got her breath back.

“Gone strangely silent now, haven’t you?” She said at last, speaking to her angel, who was still attached to her like a child riding piggyback on her shoulders.

“I told you to leave well alone,” it said. “You did not listen because you are still wicked and locked in sin.”

Later that evening, alone in her vicarage, she phoned Rev. Williams for his advice. She sat back on the sofa in her warm, cosy living room and picked up the phone. She dialled the number, he replied and they began to talk.

“You were vicar here before me,” she said. “You never told me about the ghost in the basement!”

“It wasn’t there for most of my career,” he said on the other end of the line. “It reappeared maybe three months ago.”

“What is it?” She asked. “Who is it?”

“A heretic they burnt as a witch centuries ago,” he explained. “He came back as a wraith to torment and destroy the preachers that burnt him. Or so the story goes.” Emily paused to think. She felt frightened that such a creature could be lurking in the church, waiting to attack her. “I only looked into it briefly when the hauntings began again,” Father Williams continued. “It’s an old fable from the 17th century. He’s not been seen for nearly three hundred years.”

“Until now,” Emily mused.

“It’s really best not to go down there.” Rev. Williams said. “Not even Peter likes to venture into the basement anymore. What were you doing down there anyway?”

“I was looking for some of your old counselling notes,” she said, slightly sheepishly.

“Why?”

“Cathy Baines is in hospital because of her husband,” she said, feeling suddenly angry. “I wanted to see what she said to you. What you said to her. She’s my responsibility now, you see.”

He sighed. “There’s nothing you can do, believe me,” he said. “Sad though it is. Marriage is a holy vow. Perhaps the light of Christ can help him reform his ways. But she has to submit to him in every way and stay loyal to her husband. It’s written in the scriptures that a wife must obey her spouse.”

“But she’s in the hospital with God only knows what injuries!” Emily protested. “Must she continue to endure such misery? Is that really God’s way? Is that the compassion of Christ?”

“I understand, I do,” he said. “But we have to abide by the strictures of our faith. Advise him to give up the drink and to love his wife. Advise her to help him overcome his weakness and to pray. You must pray for them both too. Offer her whatever counselling she needs. And him too. There’s really nothing else you can do about the situation.”

“I told you,” the angel added. “Turn from your sinful rebellion and wickedness. Walk in the way of the Cross.”

She sighed. It was true. There was nothing she could do about it. “This angel I met,” she said, changing the subject.

“I have one too,” he replied, as if reading her thoughts.

“Why can no one else see it?” She asked.

“They are invisible to all except the one who carries them.” He said.

“Does it scold and lecture you too?” She asked. “Does it criticise you constantly and tell you how you’ve fallen from the way? It’s almost constantly doing it with me. And the face! Why has its appearance changed from the innocent creature I saw near the woods? What is it really?”

His voice became hard. “It’s an angel,” he said in a no-nonsense way. “It’s your own personal guardian angel. All priests have them, in every denomination or so I’ve heard. It’s there to help you, to guide you, to keep you on the straight and narrow. And the less you question it and the more you obey, the less it will reprimand or criticise you. Eventually you’ll be at peace.”

“It never criticises you anymore?” She asked.

“I have my moments,” he answered.

“But didn’t God give us a brain so that we could question and think for ourselves?” She asked. “Isn’t that why he gave us free will in the first place? Isn’t that the whole point of his infinite grace and forgiveness? What’s the point of obedience that comes from fear of chastisement?”

“Oh, how you have fallen,” Rev. Williams replied. “I can see why it’s giving you such a hard time. We have free will, yes. But we must also repent and serve the Lord faithfully. I’m a good priest,” he added, his voice quivering with sudden anxiety. “I am good. I obey my Lord and saviour. All questions, all wickedness and rebellion have been taken from me.”

Who are you trying to convince? She thought. “Where’s your individual spirit, Rev. Williams?” She asked.

“It’s gone,” he said. The sadness in his voice was clearly audible. “I have surrendered it to the Lord.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I will try to follow your example.” She put the phone down. It was a lie of course. She was more worried than ever about the nature and intentions of the creature on her back. But she tried her best to bury the thoughts. It knew everything she did or felt.

It had been an exhausting day. She pulled out a bottle of whisky from her cupboard and poured herself a large one.

“And now you turn to drink,” the angel said. “A shepherd is supposed to set an example for his flock. See how deep in sin you are?”

“Oh, shut up!” She said.

I’m only posting the first 8 chapters of this story on this blog. To read the rest of the book, please buy The Psychic Investigation and Study Team on Amazon.com or Amazon.co.uk

#fiction #fantasy #supernatural #writing #novel #lgbt #ghost #wraith

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