#This was on while I was doing my make up so here u go ✨
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🌹💋😘
Treat me ~ Tip Me ~ More of me
#Waves at u#This was on while I was doing my make up so here u go ✨#satans knitwear#Any tips or treats would be massively appreciated right now 💕#wlw#bi girl#uk girl#alt pinup#pinup girl#Spotify
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pretty little wife | crazy 4 u
joel miller x f!reader one shot collection
series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨
summary: valentine's day special! joel has historically made sure that valentine's day is special for his pretty little wife, but this year he's gone above and beyond.
warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, soft dom! joel, free use kink, orgasm denial if you squint hard, unprotected piv, rough sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, choking/breath play, pet names for reader, praise kink, romantic as fuck husband joel this chapter, some domestic fluff, alcohol consumption, maybe maybe maybe there is a breeding kink moment, reader has hair that can be pulled
a/n: they're so in love it makes me SICK!!! thank you so much for reading and loving this couple along with me, and happy galentine's and valentine's day my loves! 💋💗💌
reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!
You quietly squeal to yourself as you start to tear open the newly delivered package on your way back inside from the mailbox. You look down at the assortment of pale pastel candies, all strung up on thin strands, waiting to be devoured. Your own curiosity and lack of self control nearly has you reaching in the box to break one off for yourself, but you hold back, reminding yourself just who you bought this for and why.
Valentine’s Day is in two days, but you’d wanted to get a jump, giving Joel a more playful vibe today considering you know he’ll have gotten you something sexy and downright depraved to wear on the actual holiday. Your skin tingles at the thought, recalling all of the things he’d had you wear in the past. Your most memorable being crotchless panties under a skin tight dress at dinner one Valentine’s Day, so he could finger fuck you under the table at one of Austin’s finest restaurants. Keeping your face straight during that had been painstaking, but you’d loved every minute of the debauched public display. When you’d asked Joel why he hadn’t just had you go sans underwear that night, he’d smiled devilishly. ‘Adds to the forbidden factor, don’t y’think?,’ Joel had replied, ‘So premeditated I had to get my baby somethin’ to weep onto while I knew I’d be shoving my fingers so deep in her pretty pussy.’ Those naughty words from Joel still send a shudder up your spine to this day as they ring in your mind. He hadn’t even waited until you two were home that evening to use that same hole in the panties to fuck you dizzy, until you’d screamed in the back seat of his car for him. Even then, he hadn’t relented until you came too many times to even remember the count now, leaving his seats a soaking mess.
You sigh, bringing yourself back to the present, brushing the memories away for now to get yourself ready to make some new ones with your husband. Once you’ve changed, you take a quick moment to admire the scant pieces of lingerie, almost laughing at the absurdity, but wondering how in all these years you’d never thought to buy candy underwear for Joel to devour off of you. You preen yourself for a few more quick moments before heading downstairs, wanting to set yourself up to act casual for Joel when he arrives home. Sometimes you do this on purpose, knowing he gets off on interrupting what you’re doing just so he can take you, fuck you however he pleases. And even when you really are in the middle of something, you get off on it too - being of service to your husband, helping him feel good while knowing you’ll be well taken care of, too.
On the dot at 5:00, you hear Joel’s car pulling up and smile smugly to yourself, continuing to wipe the counters down. A prompt pop of your hips to push your ass out follows when you hear the front door open and close.
“Doll? Where are ya?” Joel calls out, voice slightly muffled as he bends down to put his shoes away.
“In here!” you call out, voice high and sugary sweet, imitating the lingerie plastered to your body right now.
“How’s my pr-” Joel starts, freezing the moment he enters the kitchen. He takes in the sight - you slightly bent over, only a tiny string between your bare ass cheeks, pink high heels, and straps of candy running over your shoulders and across your back. You whip your head over your shoulder, rotating your body just enough to give Joel a peek at the lines of candy also covering your tits. He laughs, head thrown back in playful amusement before stepping towards you, predatory and slow, his laugh fading into a contemplative smirk.
“What do we got here?” Joel says quietly, hands immediately pressed tightly to your hips, his body pushing you forward into the counter. You whimper when the edge of the counter starts to dig into your stomach, Joel’s massive form locking you into your spot. “A little snack f’me to enjoy after workin’ so hard all day?” Joel can barely contain himself, blood running hot as he contemplates how grateful he feels right now.
“Mmhmm…” you whine out, already feeling any semblance of tension leaving your body at Joel’s gentle but calloused touch, this feeling of home. You giggle when Joel leans down to where the straps come around over your shoulders and takes a bite out of the candies, a little groan leaving him as his lips also catch on your skin, mixing the taste of you with the sweetness of the candy.
“Delicious, baby,” he hums in your ear, then goes on to kiss your earlobe. You melt, head falling back slightly with a docile smile plastered on your lips. “How’d a man get so lucky?” He takes another bite, kissing along your shoulder as he does so.
“Thought we’d get a jump on Valentine’s Day, darling,” you coo back, turning your head to kiss his cheek.
Joel freezes, his eyes going wide and body rigid. “Fu-” he murmurs to himself, lips still practically attached to your shoulder.
“What?”
He tears himself off of you with the most disgruntled groan you may have heard from him yet. “Baby, we gotta get movin’. You… fuckin’ little candy underwear, god damn it…” he starts muttering, grabbing you tightly and spinning you around. He grasps your hand in his and starts leading you upstairs. “You gotta change, honey, we’re…” he trails off, looking guilty and a bit flustered.
“Joel, what the hell is going on?” you ask, stopping and pulling back on his hand.
Joel sighs, calming himself for a moment before finally meeting your eyeline again. His gaze softens and he smiles. “Had a whole thing planned, darlin’. A surprise. C’mon and see for yourself.”
You trail after him, suddenly feeling ridiculous in your candy underwear given the change in mood. He takes you into the bedroom, opening his closet and yanking out your suitcase. Your brows furrow as you watch him pull it to the center of the bedroom, then going back for another suitcase of his own. Your mouth drops open slightly before curling into a smile, realizing that Joel had planned a trip for the two of you. He’d mentioned to keep your schedule free around Valentine’s Day, but you’d figured it was just typical plans - dinner, a picnic, or a fancy hotel room, nothing this big.
“Joel… baby…” you breathe out, clutching a hand to your chest. You feel suddenly filled with warmth, like sunshine has started filling you from the belly outwards, making your entire being feel light and tingly. Effervescence. That’s what being with Joel is like.
He gives you a lopsided smile. “We’re leavin’ tonight. Planned it all, flight is at eight so we can wake up there ‘n get a jump on everythin’. An’ then you had to wear that,” he huffs, gesturing to your entire body with a wild movement of his hand. “An’ scramble my brain right up.” His eyes linger along your entire midsection, sincerely considering throwing these plans away just to sate his hard cock, but he shakes his head and looks you in the eyes again.
“A jump on…. what’s everything?” you ask, placing an impatient hand on your hip.
Joel reaches into the built-in shelves in his closet, pulling out a soft, cashmere lounge set and walking it over to you. “Jus’ get dressed an’ I’ll explain as we go. God damn it, this was s’posed to be so much more romantic.” He sighs, a hand repeatedly running through his hair during your entire conversation, looking flustered.
“Aw, honey, it is, promise,” you assure him with a kind laugh, starting to peel off the candy underwear, bringing it over to your dresser to deposit it for another time.
“Mm-mm,” Joel chants with a smirk, squatting down to unzip your suitcase and holding out his palm to you. “Those are comin’ with us.”
You’re over 31,000 feet in the air now, the sky dark outside the plane windows as you peer out. Joel had planned an entire long weekend to head to Aspen, where he’d booked you both skiing lessons and a cozy, romantic room at a lodge there. Your heart swelled as he explained it all on the ride to the airport, remembering how it was on your bucket list to learn to ski, but being from Texas there hadn’t been too many chances to learn locally.
You stretch your legs out, admiring the leg room in the first class tickets Joel had gotten you two, bringing the complimentary glass of champagne to your lips.
“Baby, this is too much,” you say with a slight frown, despite feeling overjoyed at everything about your current situation.
“Never. I’ve been plannin’ and savin’ for this for a while. Wanted to surprise you big time,” Joel says with a toothy, proud grin.
“Well, you did. Makes my candy underwear feel kind of… well, wimpy in comparison.”
Joel’s pointer finger flies to your lips, pressing down before your glass can reach your mouth again. “Not a chance, little doll. That’s all I need from you - skimpy little outfit to keep your husband happy.”
Your lips curl into a sly smirk and you part your lips, nipping the end of Joel’s fingers. He shoots a brow up, challenging you, but you back down. You and Joel don’t always have the most public decency, but you decide it’s not worth getting kicked off the plane just for an orgasm you could wait a few more hours for. You nearly roll your eyes at the thought though, your cunt aching from the unresolved moment you two had shared in the kitchen earlier. You can tell by his wide pupils and rosy cheeks that Joel must be feeling a lot of the same way and having the same conflictions.
“If we wait a few hours… it’ll be even better…” you lean over and whisper to him, voice betraying you as it escapes in a breathy, sultry tone.
“Plane never stopped us before…” Joel says, brows raised again.
You tut, but then smile at the memory of your one sexual adventure on a plane with Joel, when you two were on your way to your honeymoon. A discreet handjob and fingering in first class under blankets hadn’t been the most romantic start to your married life together, but it suited the both of you. “Aaand…” you trail off, placing your palm on his chest. “We almost got caught like five times, big guy. Promised ourselves we wouldn’t do that again.”
Joel grumbles quickly, and you know he understands, but you feel an anxious twinge in your stomach, like you’re breaking the rules. Your face falls a little and you turn towards him, more serious this time. “I know we have… an arrangement, and you know I love our arrangement.” Joel gets what he wants, whenever he wants - the words agreed upon by the both of you within your marriage, and you were all for it. “But just this time I think we shouldn’t break the law for it.” You raise your brows, stomach turning again as you wait for his reaction - Joel is always understanding and patient with you but as usual, you find yourself desperate to please him.
Joel bites the inside of his cheek, then he leans over to plant a peck on your cheek while he reaches down to squeeze your hand in reassurance. “No, baby, you’re right. Probably should be an exception ‘bout planes in there, huh?” He tilts his head playfully and you feel your tension dissipate immediately. “Always the rational one, ain’t you, honey.”
“Barely,” you tease, chuckling in relief. “I just don’t want to ruin the trip before it’s even started. Let’s just watch a movie or something?”
Several hours of keeping yourselves occupied and dozing off had you finally arriving in Aspen, where Joel gently nudged you awake as the plane landed. You rubbed your bleary eyes and made your way through the plane and airport half-awake, just letting Joel guide you with one of your hands gently grasping at his sleeve the entire time. You two get outside the airport with your suitcases, now bundled up in an adorable puffer jacket Joel had packed for you, along with a new pair of fuzzy earmuffs. You were starting to have a sneaking suspicion that there was a lot of new clothing in your suitcase.
Standing next to an impeccably shiny black car is a well dressed driver holding a tiny sign that makes you do a double take.
Mr. & Mrs. Joel Miller.
You tug on Joel’s sleeve with eager excitement as he starts towards the man and your mouth hangs open.
“Joel, you did not hire a fancy driver,” you scoff quietly in disbelief. Joel stops in his tracks, screeching the two of you to a halt before turning to face you.
“If you’re already questioning me at the airplane seats ‘n the driver, it’s gonna be a long few days, honey,” he says sweetly, his voice crackling and gruff with tiredness from the long day. Your open mouth turns to a smile while you tut and shake your head.
“You’re too much, Joel Miller…” you muse, following him to the car. The driver, Randy, takes your bags and stuffs them in the car, offering you an open car door to climb inside. Your stomach flips with butterflies, not having realized just how romantic of a weekend Joel had planned for you. You fight off a quick mist of tears as it pops up, trying not to get emotional at just how overwhelmingly thoughtful your husband could be sometimes.
When Joel sits next to you, you clasp onto his hand tightly, giving him a watery smile that he returns with a sympathetic one of his own, reading that you’re feeling overwhelmed. Sure, since Joel had become more and more successful in his business you’d been treated beyond your wildest dreams, but sometimes it all hit you hard in one big moment like right now, filling you with gut clenching gratitude for your life. Life with Joel oftentimes feels like a dream, something you’ve stumbled into somehow that you aren’t sure you deserve. Joel would never let those thoughts slide, always reminding you how lucky he feels to have met you in that bar, that fate intervened so spectacularly in his life.
You lean your head on his shoulder for the duration of the ride to your accommodation, feeling sick with nostalgia and gratitude as you get lost in your thoughts. When the lodge comes into view, you pick your head up, mind suddenly empty as your jaw drops while you take it in.
It’s dark out, the sky black against the warm, glowing lights peeking through window panes throughout the lodge. A mountainous backdrop is still visible despite the dark night, and you can’t help but ogle at everything, imagining how stunning it will look in the daylight. The lodge is huge, ornate despite the fact that it’s meant to look simplistic and cozy with its wood siding. Joel marvels quickly at the construction out of habit, being in the business he’s in gives him a certain preclusion to commenting his two cents on every place you stay. You’re stunned silent as the back door is opened by Randy and you step out underneath a large overhang, greeted by yet another person who offers to take your bags. It’s all fuzzy, your brain tired and overwhelmed by what you’re taking in right now, the fact that just hours ago you’d been at home, content to just stay in with your husband tonight. You blink back to reality, about to speak when Joel gets to it first.
“Please. Thank you kindly,” Joel drawls, quickly slipping them a bill from his wallet and then turning back to you, offering you his arm. You take it, practically ready to squeal loudly with excitement as you two enter the building. You admire the expansive lobby while Joel steps away to check in - high ceilings and wood beams, roaring fireplaces surrounded by cozy seating and tall, full but neatly arranged bookshelves. A winter dream if there ever was one.
You’re gazing around, tired, slow blinking eyes, too lost in it all to notice Joel come up next to you, his hand finding the small of your back. He leans close, lips and rough beard brushing your ear with a soft kiss.
“Room’s ready,” he practically growls, and your gut clenches at his tone, your thighs pressing together. Suddenly, your body feels alight, nerves buzzing and goosebumps peppering your flesh. Sleep is a far away notion now, recalling the way you’d begun this evening, only to have it go unfinished for the both of you. You smile, soft and docile like your husband likes, your voice a dulcet song so close to his ears.
“Lead the way.”
Your ass stings red hot from another harsh slap laid against it. Joel’s hungry mouth devouring you, your hat and coat discarded on the floor right next to the door to your room. Hair tangled from the way Joel is hanging on to it for dear life as he pounds into you. Your only view is the cream colored walls, your face pressed up against the cool, smooth surface as Joel’s body pins you there. The door had no sooner shut than Joel had thrown you here, as much clothing ripped off as he could stand before his cock was inside of you. You’d cried out, whimpered at the sudden heavenly intrusion despite your pussy needing a moment to adjust. Joel had pushed through it, anyways, delivering the first spank of the night on your ass, pants and underwear hastily pulled down, halfway down your legs - enough room for Joel to slip his cock in was good enough for now, he’d thought hastily. The pain had melded into pleasure, your cunt squeezing his cock and starting to weep, easing Joel’s firm thrusts into you.
“F-fuck…” you whine against the wall, lips hanging open as his cock hits deep, your g-spot crying out already from all the stimulation he’s giving it. He’s not going easy on you, and you’d already known he wouldn’t the second he got you alone. All those hours, the silent teasing going on in both of your heads as you’d waited for this moment.
“Takin’ my cock like such a good girl… my obedient little wife,” Joel grunts out next to your ear, his teeth scraping your earlobes, sliding to your pulse point. You shudder, your hips spasming down onto him as pleasure starts to rock your body. You’re close… so fucking close to that perfect paradise only Joel knows how to get you to. “I’d’ve fucked you right in that lobby, right in that car or that god damned plane. Want everyone to see what I do to my pretty wife, what I’ve got right here… fuckin’ mess only for me,” Joel murmurs, rambling on as he grunts over and over, giving you everything he’s got. His hands tilt your hips, holding tightly while he anchors you there. And he’s right, you are a mess. Dripping slick, coating your thighs, disheveled hair and makeup now from the pleasured tears rolling down your cheeks, wet, squelching sounds filling the hotel room that you haven’t even had a chance to see yet as your face is turned towards the corner near the doorway. It must be a sight, indeed.
“Y-yeah? Wanna s-show me off…?” you breathe out, voice trembling as much as your body is starting to. Your knees are jelly, shaking and barely able to hold you up when Joel delves deep, hitting that spongy part inside of you again, making your eyes roll back. Of course he does, you know he does - nothing brings Joel more joy than letting the world know exactly what he has.
“Fuckin’ know I do… all lookin’ at this tight little cunt takin’ my fat cock, my pretty pussy, all mine.” Joel’s body presses closer, and you’re trapped even more, the both of you damp with sweat and almost incoherent as you near your highs.
“B-baby… I’m -” you whine out, “Please…”
Joel has waited as long as he could, knowing what you need. He’d wanted you desperate for it, so close, your climax just within reach, before he took you over the edge. His hand on your hip curves forward, finding your clit, and you moan loudly at the contact on the sensitive nerves. Your body moves of its own accord, bouncing back into his thrusts wildly, barely noticing that Joel’s other hand has left your hip until it connects with your neck, hand wrapping around your throat. You gasp, the noise cut off into a small choke while Joel’s hand tightens and you croak out a moan.
“Oh my g-god… please…” you whimper again in a strained voice, hoping, no, begging for permission from him. He plays with you a little longer, feeling his cock harden beyond what he’d think possible, aching even inside of you for more, as he toys with you, making you wait. His hand squeezes your neck once more, a little harder, keeping the pressure on. You’re feral, your body screaming at you but you concentrate, holding back, your mind doing gymnastics to try to deny what your body wants so badly.
“Come.” Joel speaks the one word with finality, and you let go, your body shaking violently. His hand releases and you breathe in a full, round breath as you come, your pussy creaming so hard on his cock that you start to feel dizzy from it all.
“God damn, good girl… comin’ so pretty right now,” he whispers to your ear, the noise tickling your mind in the best way. Joel holds you up as you moan and whimper, his name falling off your lips in the way it always does in moments like these - worshiping him. You flutter and squeeze his cock like heaven incarnate, and Joel finds he can’t hold himself back any longer, spilling into you on the tail end of your own climax with a loud grunt, pretty praises for you off his lips.
You both collapse against the wall, Joel leaning against you, and you both catch your breath, the need gone for the moment after hours of waiting. You sigh, smiling in satisfaction when Joel pulls off of you, gathering you quickly into his arms, kissing you all over your head.
“That’s better, ain’t it?” he says teasingly, and you chuckle, nodding in his grasp. You both readjust yourselves, Joel helping you situate the clothing he’d haphazardly pulled aside in his frenzy earlier.
“Much,” you say with another sigh, leaning into him. “What time is our lesson tomorrow?”
“Not ‘till noon. Had a feeling we’d be… up late,” Joel replies wryly, and you laugh again.
“Such a planner,” you poke at him, raising your brows before tilting your head to kiss his cheek. You slip out of his hold and start to meander further into the room, jaw dropping for what feels like the hundredth time tonight while you take in the vaulted ceilings with those same warm wooden beams and white painted walls, a stone fireplace roaring in the center of the room across from the massive bed, adorned with rose petals. More roses sit atop the small breakfast table in a vase near the windows, and when you venture over there, the view you’re taking in is beyond stunning - the mountains in full view, moonlight shining over the entirety of the landscape and your eyes start to tear up. Champagne in an ice bucket, boxes of chocolate, fresh fruit, the entire works are all laid out - such a lavish, gorgeous display for the traditional romantic in you. You turn around finally, meeting Joel’s gaze, where he stands, a smitten look on his face as he watches you take it all in.
“Joel… What can I even say?” you gasp out, throwing your hands up before letting them hang back at your sides, defeated in the best way. “Thank you…” you say meekly, turning to peer out the window once more before walking towards him, throwing your arms around his neck.
“Thanked me plenty back there. An’ every day when you just be my good little wife, that’s thanks enough, doll,” Joel replies soothingly, stroking the back of your head. You lean your head against his chest, content to just listen to his heart beat for a few seconds, take in the memories of this moment. You lean back, tilting your head to give him a warm, grateful smile.
“Take me to bed?”
The next morning is far from the slow, romantic morning Joel had desired for you, realizing the both of you had forgotten to set any alarms and slept in well past 10:00 after your late night. It was barely giving the two of you time to get ready - a rushed shower and breakfast before hurrying to your skiing lesson. He’d dreamed about this hotel that he’d booked for months, the thought of waking you up with his mouth pressed deep into your cunt on that California King as he’d planned would have to be a distant fantasy as you two got on with your day.
Joel couldn’t help but stare at you the entire lesson, the way your face is lit up with pure joy in your ski gear as you fumbled to get the hang of things along with him. He’d gotten you ski pants, a jacket, gloves, and goggles - all the works that he knew was ridiculous for your first time on the mountain for that price tag. But he also knew you’d look just like this - adorable in your matching winter set, colorful goggles perched on top of your beanie and perfect lips curled into a never ending grin - and it made it all worth it.
Joel finds his own smile recounting the day as he keeps a steady hand on your back, the open back, low cut slinky dress he’d packed for you to wear to dinner tonight leaving plenty of skin for his hands to roam over as you two walk back to your room, full and contented. A candlelit dinner in the lodge’s shockingly expensive restaurant and a few drinks had you both feeling good as new again after your long day of skiing and mostly falling.
You two had laughed for hours as you’d fallen on your asses more times than anyone could count. Once you got the hang of it enough to get on the smaller slopes, you’d been unable to stop giggling the entire time, you and Joel catching up at the bottom just to ride the lift up again and again. You two flirted shamelessly the entire day like two teenagers, your heart swelling with so much love for your husband like it was your first date all over again. It was nice to have this uninterrupted time to just talk, get each other caught up on the other’s recent thoughts, feelings, and days that got lost amid the hustle of daily life.
Joel’s lips connect with the back of your neck as soon as the door to your room at the lodge is shut. “Like t’see those candy underwear again,” he mumbles to your skin, and you giggle a little too loudly, stumbling forward a bit.
Your brows wiggle as you try to crane your neck to look back at him. “That so, Mr. Miller?”
“Christ, y’only call me that when you’ve been drinkin’,” Joel teases, snaking his arms around to your front, holding you against him, the bulge in his dress pants becoming more obvious by the second as it hardens, pressing into you. “Can’t decide if it’s cute or jus’ makes me feel old.”
“No I don’t, Mr. Miller. And it is cute,” you demand, trying to hide the tiniest bit of a slur in your voice. Joel wasn’t wrong, you had been known to use that particular nickname for him after a few drinks, but you tended to be a bit of a bratty, indignant drunk.
“Thas right, ‘cause everythin’ you do is cute, m’little wife.” Joel says with a smile in his voice. His lips connect with your neck once again, trailing a few kisses down your spine. “An’ sexy…” he adds in a lower tone, one hand sliding to your hip, then your ass, squeezing hard before giving it a playful smack.
“Keep talkin’ if you want those candy panties to see the light of day again,” you reply, leaning back into him, your weight immediately welcomed by his warm, solid body.
“Oh, sweet girl, always gettin’ so bold with that wine, aren’t ya?” Joel’s hold tightens, one hand splayed across your torso and the other gripping your ass hard enough to bruise. “You forgotten who’s in charge here? Hm, baby?”
“A-actually, it was champagne…” you strain out, starting to pant as Joel’s hold goes even tighter, his domination quickly getting your thighs sticky, and you lament the fact you don’t have any underwear on right now. All at Joel’s request, of course, that you forgo any underwear at dinner tonight. You just whimper out a quiet moan, knowing you’ve gotten Joel riled up enough to keep going on his own volition.
“Think I don’t call the shots suddenly, huh? My sweet, sweet wife, we both know,” he pauses, mouth moving right next to your ear. A small nibble, his breath warm and tickling you in the best way right on sensitive skin sends a shudder through you. “That if I say put those fuckin’ candy panties on right this god damn minute, you’re gonna do it, yeah?”
Joel’s teeth suddenly sink into your neck a little, a tiny bite followed by a suck, and you nod desperately, silently cursing yourself for giving in so quickly, not giving yourself a little more time to play with him, let that tiny bratty part of you out of her cage for one of her rare appearances.
“Ain’t that right?” Joel repeats, giving your hair a little tug.
“Y-yes, Joel, yes baby…” you breathe out, and he releases your hair, his hold loosening on your body before he gives a loving pat to your ass.
“Good girl,” he coos, satisfied, sending another wave of heat to the apex of your thighs to hear his praise. A tiny moan slips out at the two words, still so effective after all these years. Joel chuckles, a tiny little huff off his lips as he spins you to face him. His hand cups your pussy through your dress, pushing the silky material between your legs before he tuts.
“Soakin’ yourself jus’ from gettin’ called a good girl…” he murmurs, lips getting dangerously close to yours. “Good. Girl.” he says with a smirk against your lips before kissing you. It’s long and deep, reminding you that behind the play and facade is an infinite amount of care for you - his wife, his forever.
He tears himself away, leaning his forehead against yours. “Now, go on and change f’me.”
You nod against him, then step back when he releases you from his hold. Breathless, on shaky legs, you rummage through your suitcase to pull out the candy set, smiling when you hold up the pastel treats, strung up on what might be the world’s flimsiest string. One minute in Joel’s rough, domineering hands and these would be toast, you think, almost laughing to yourself.
You see Joel go towards the fireplace, sinking himself down in one of the plush chairs there and crossing his ankle over his knee, settling back as he unbuttons the top few buttons of his crisp white dress shirt, watching you expectantly. You scurry off under his hot gaze, using the bathroom to change out of his eyesight before reemerging in his requested lingerie. You fight a giggle, wine still coursing through you while being reminded of the pure ridiculousness of this little stunt of yours.
Joel eats with his eyes first and foremost, sweeping them up your body as he finishes getting comfortable, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. You stand in front of him, thankful for the warmth of the fireplace right next to the two of you in your skimpy ensemble, and take him in right back. Broad, muscled, just starting to show his age with more grays every time you blink, and you love it. Love every inch of Joel.
“On the ground,” Joel says coolly, and you smirk, trying to hide it into a submissive, coy smile. Your knees go first, the plush rug under them a welcome relief, pure fluffy luxury in a weekend full of it. You start to lay prone, chest heaving with anticipation, mind spinning and reeling, wondering what torturous loving Joel has in store, how much he’ll milk it all out just for your tiny bit of bratiness earlier.
“Jus’ like that, thas’ right.” He leans forward and smiles, a little devilish and boyish in one, and you think you fall in love again as you watch him moving, looming over you now. He quickly palms the outside of his slacks, just the quickest relief before sliding his hand away, starting to circle you.
“Where to start…” Joel trills, and your body heats up even more while his eyes dig into you. When he’s standing at your feet, he starts to come down, leaning his entire body over you. “Can you be a good little doll and lay still while I have my treat?”
Breathless, you nod. Your eyes roll back a little when you blink hard, trying to catch your breath. Joel’s lifted brow and stare prompt you without him even having to say it - use your words, darlin’.
“Yes,” you say more confidently, and Joel smiles sweetly down at you.
“Good.”
He starts slow, lips moving languidly across your belly, up to where the candy rests on your tits, lapping at the sweetness there for a few licks.
“Mmm…” Joel mumbles. He’s back on you the next second, sucking the candies right on top of your nipples. The friction of the hard candies combined with the tiny licks of his tongue coming through to the hardened buds has your back arching, hips searching for him. You squirm, panting now when he bites through the candy, grazing your nipple with his teeth. Joel’s hands come down, ever so gently guiding your hips back down to the plush rug underneath you.
“What’d I say about bein’ still?” Joel teases, holding you there now before going back to bite again, crunching the candies before using his sugary tongue to tease your nipple with a few flicks as it pokes through the hole he’s just made. You start to moan, already a lost cause for your husband, the thought of trying to keep your body still already torturous.
“I c-can’t help it… I’m sorry, sir,” you pant out when your hips lift again, his mouth working harder and harder on your nipples. He grunts disapprovingly and continues on until both of your nipples are free, surrounded by the rest of the candy bra. Joel seems like a man possessed, lost in it all while he devours the candies, sucking and licking each new patch of skin, a sticky, sweet mess all over your skin.
You’re aching, body tense and in hot, hot need of him now as he teases you over and over. Your thighs clamp tight, trying to avoid bucking them up into where his hard, clothed cock hovers teasingly right above you. His hand grips tightly to your hip, the string of candy taut between his fingers. He’s eaten enough of the bra that it’s starting to droop, fall off of you completely, and Joel tears it aside, scattering the rest of the candies along the floor with a tinkling sound that pulls you out of the moment for a beat as you turn your head to watch the treats roll away.
“Good girl, bein’ so good f’me… such a sweet little thing…” Joel says, lifting his head off of your chest, giving you ferocious, unhinged eyes and candy tinted lips, puffy and overused.
“J-joel… please…” you whine out, the way he’s looking at you pulsing right to your already soaking cunt. His hand slips underneath the panties while he keeps his eyes on yours, watching them roll back completely as he fingers your clit. Your hips buck, finally, unable to stop it and you feel your lip quiver as a shaky moan releases from them. Joel leans forward, his lips finding yours and kissing you zealously, a glace mix of him and the sweets has your head spinning as you lap the taste off of his lips and tongue eagerly.
“So sweet…” you mumble into his mouth, going back for more and more, until you’re feeling just as sticky and sweaty as he is, the slow burn starting to gnaw at you, your core dripping while Joel rubs the softest circles over your bundle of nerves.
“You’re perfect, y’know,” Joel breathes out, lifting his lips off of yours just the tiniest bit. “My perfect girl…” You moan when his finger suddenly sinks inside of you, too caught up in the moment to even notice when he’d delicately slipped it from your clit to your clenching hole. You suck him in greedily, desperate for anything he’ll give you and whimper.
Joel contorts himself, sliding down your body, keeping his finger moving at a languid, steady pace as his mouth now meets the candy panties, nibbling along the top of it. You’re losing control, unable to take the teasing anymore, the slowness of everything, your rough and ready husband nowhere to be found right now.
Your moans become breathier, urgent and panting out of you more quickly than you can handle, your mind going a little fuzzy and light as the feeling of Joel completely takes over you.
“There we go… jus’ float on away baby, let me take you there…” Joel coos from your hip where his lips graze against your skin as another few pieces of candy come off. You give him an affirmative noise, barely registered even by your own mind as your eyes slip closed, your body warm and tingling, so desperately close to the edge. Joel’s finger hooks upwards inside of you and you gasp loudly, your body wracked with spasms as you start to come onto his thick finger. Joel lets you freely writhe and shake now, not bothering to have you lay still while he fucks his finger against your g-spot relentlessly while you ride out the waves of pleasure. You’re whimpering, a complete mess, chest, face, cunt, all feeling sticky and completely used by the man you love.
Your head lolls along the rug a bit before you blindly reach your hand for Joel, grasping his shoulder with your eyes still lazing shut. “F-fuck me, please… please,” you whimper, lightly clawing at his dress shirt.
You hear one more crunch of the candies before Joel’s fingers hook on the sides of the delicate string and pull your panties off. You can feel him, his presence hovering above you as he sits back on his knees and you hear him unbuckling his belt, imagining in your mind the sight of his hard cock coming free, readying itself at your entrance. You can barely think about opening your leaden eyes right now, still on the heels of your climax as your chest heaves up and down. You can feel the warmth radiating off of Joel as he climbs on top of you, hands gripping your calves to lift your legs up enough for him to fit snugly between them.
You grit your teeth a little, grunting out a gratified moan when you feel Joel start to push himself in, your cunt fluttering as it accepts as much of him as he’ll give. You’re greedy tonight, you can feel it, just needing everything Joel can give you, how far away from reality he could take you tonight.
He pumps in and out, almost uncharacteristic in his tentativeness, more of his thick length going in each time, and you finally peek your eyes open slowly, hands reaching to his shoulders and pushing underneath the collar of his dress shirt, finding his warm skin. He’s moving slower than he normally would, and you find his face looking down at you with adoration, just content to watch your face twitch and contort with each unhurried drag of his cock along your silky walls.
“Lookin’ like an angel,” Joel comments, seeing your face sheening and glowing from your climax, hair splayed around your head like a halo - pure angelic beauty, a work of art that Joel could never tire of gazing upon. You smile softly, one of your hands stroking his cheek lovingly, soft moans streaming out of you while he keeps up the same pace.
“Baby…” you moan, “I s-said to fuck me, please…”
“I am, little doll…” Joel teases back with a slow push of his dick into you, and you shake your head.
“You know what I meeeeaan,” you whine desperately, fingers itching to reach down and grasp his hips, pull him into you harder. Joel’s hips twitch a little faster, starting to roll into you with more force and you sigh, head thrown back a bit more.
“What, like this?”
Uh-huh. You start to go a little breathless, legs wrapping around Joel’s waist, securing your calves tightly against him.
“You want me to use you up again, hm? That it? My poor baby, she jus’ wants this tight little hole to be so fucked out she can’t walk, doesn’t she?” Joel says, patronizingly sweet with the drawl of each word.
You nod desperately. “Please, sir, t-that’s…” you stop to moan loudly when he bucks into you harder and harder. “That’s all I want…” you finally choke out, Joel’s cock hitting you so deep you nearly feel your breath stolen right from your lungs.
“What my pretty wife wants, she gets,” Joel practically sings to you, bringing his lips down to yours for a kiss, letting his mouth sloppily work its way to your neck, starting to bite and suck while he crashes into you harder with each thrust. You can only make tiny noises, clutching him as your hands snake around his neck, holding him close to you. Joel grunts loudly between sloppy licks and sucks on your throat, his hips moving more clumsily as your walls squeeze him to the point he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.
“God damn it baby, this little pussy wants me in there so bad, she’s so greedy,” Joel punches out right next to your ear. You shudder, hips spasming and only tightening you around him further. Joel groans loudly.
“Please…” is all you can whisper, out of breath as he hits deep inside of you with each new movement.
“Fuck, c-can’t… need to fill you up, darlin’, need you fuckin’ full of me…”
“Pleaaaase…” More urgently this time, lips dry from the way you’re sucking in oxygen in quick gasps, starting to feel your orgasm clawing at your belly, tingly and hot.
“Fuckin’ full of me… gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. Give you my f-fuckin’ baby right now… m-make you swell up,” Joel pants, his face buried in your shoulder, biting down. You gasp, completely lost to the moment, fingers digging into his skin as you pull him in tighter, legs and feet crushed against his back. There are no two bodies here, only togetherness and sweat and breath - two people so lost in the moment and pure pleasure that they’re outside of themselves, becoming one frenzied movement to climb higher and higher to that sweet peak of relief.
“F-fuck… yes, yes, baby, yes…” you moan out. “Fill me up… d-do it…” you whine. With a stunted grunt Joel’s hips stutter forward, burying himself deep. The power, the emotion of it all as he starts to paint your walls tips you over the edge, fluttering tightly around him as you milk every bit of his seed into you, spasming and moaning as you reach another high.
“Oh my god…” you breathe out as you come hard, Joel’s ragged breath right in your ear softly moaning for you. The both of you fully collapse, Joel rolling to the side, clutching an arm around your chest. The crackling sound of the fireplace start to come back into your consciousness, the stillness and warmth of the room hitting you all over again while you lay back, feeling the stickiness of the two of you steadily leaking out of you. You’re speechless now, barely able to catch your breath, let alone process what Joel had hummed into your ear in the heat of the moment.
A baby. Did he really want that with you?
You two hadn’t discussed having children very often just yet, wanting to wait and enjoy being married, being just you two for a few years. But you felt your heart flutter a little, the thought of a little life inside of you, yours and Joel’s, a beautiful loved baby that you’d grow and nurture together. You can scarcely breathe at the thought, the love your heart swells with for this faraway notion, this unconceived child, already imprinting themselves onto your heart.
“Joel…” you murmur. His head turns towards you, and you watch light flickering around him from the shadows the fire is casting along his golden skin.
“I-” Joel stutters, seeing the look in your eyes. For once, he’s not sure he can quite read it. He knows he said something so much more tangible this time, beyond all the dirty talk the both of you love to get lost in. It was too much, surely, he’d scared you with it. “I’m sorry, honey, that was… jus’ caught in the moment, maybe…”
Your face falls a little, eyes dropping to peer past him with a sad look. “Were you?” you ask timidly, hands coming together on your belly and wringing nervously.
Joel’s eyes bore into yours, soft now, none of that feral fire that was there only minutes ago. He shakes his head slowly.
“N-no, no I wasn’t, doll,” he replies quietly. Your lips twitch a little, a small smile that you’re not able to hold back now.
“I, uh, I wasn’t either,” you tell him, and Joel’s eyes flash, lighting up a bit.
He turns completely on his side, and you do too, facing each other and scooting even closer. Joel drapes a hand over you, starting to rub lazy patterns onto your back. “So should we… uh, talk about this, then?” he asks, giving you a half, lopsided smile.
You give him a nod and a toothy grin, resting your forehead against his. “Get me those chocolates on the table over there and then we’re in business.” Joel moves without hesitation, winking at you as he pulls himself off the floor.
“Anythin’ f’you, darlin’."
You have no idea what hour it is, how long you’ve even been asleep when you feel Joel’s warm body pressing into yours, his chest now up against your back. The room is still nearly pitch black, making you take a moment to recall exactly where you are. You sigh, smiling softly at the memory of your trip thus far and you see a tiny sliver of light coming in around the blackout curtains in the room, clearly doing their job well by keeping you two asleep for god knows how long.
“Baby…” Joel whispers in your ear. You roll over slightly, your ass now rubbing into his crotch. Your eyes flutter slightly when you feel his cock, already half hard for you. Your insatiable husband, fucking you within an inch of your life for two nights in a row, and still coming back for more - a rare man of his age so voraciously consuming you over and over, never seeming to be satisfied.
“Hmm?” you murmur in reply. Joel wraps an arm across you, snuggling you closer, all warm heat against his broad, naked chest.
“Mornin’...” he mumbles back, lips pressed to your neck. “Sweet girl.”
“Morning, handsome,” you say, reaching an arm behind you to cup Joel’s cheek, running your fingers through his beard. He hums in pleasure, dipping his lips down to kiss your neck again. You shudder, digging yourself deeper under the plush comforter as you feel goosebumps covering your entire body. Joel’s hands start to roam, sliding over the skimpy, half see through pink slip you’d discovered in your suitcase last night.
Joel is suddenly shifting in the bed, and you feel the sheets rustling next to you before he’s bumping your legs as he climbs over them, settling himself underneath the comforter right in between your thighs. His touch just grazes over your plush thighs, soft and gentle, how Joel tends to be first thing in the mornings before he descends into the rough, possessive man that you’re more used to.
“So soft, little doll…” Joel murmurs from between your legs, his breath hot on your inner thighs while he leans down to kiss the outside of your panties. You just mumble incoherent noises of affirmation, still half asleep. Joel makes quick work of your panties, a pair to match the slip, of course, and pulls them down your legs, discarding them in the mess of sheets.
Your hips buck, a louder moan escaping you when his mouth finds your warm center, already wet and wanting for him.
“She’s ready f’me, ain’t she… waitin’ on her mornin’ wakeup,” Joel teases before running his tongue up your slit another time, flicking it on your clit a few times. A gentle suck there has your whining ramping up, hips begging him for more more more already. You’re barely even lucid yet and Joel is on the precipice of pulling yet another earth shattering orgasm out of you.
“J-jesus… please…” you beg, already feeling the familiar warmth pooling tighter in your core, your knees wobbling as they curl up, giving you some leverage to lazily push your hips against Joel’s tongue as it moves along your pussy.
“C’mon baby, fall apart f’me, s’okay it’s so fast…” Joel pulls back to murmur to you, kissing along your inner thighs as he speaks.
Your hand snakes below the sheets, burying your fingers into his lush, gorgeous curls, letting them massage his scalp as he dives back into your cunt, licking in just the right way he knows makes you go crazy with need, that makes you come within minutes, sometimes even much less.
You moan loudly, hips spasming as your climax surprises you suddenly, the waves of pleasure hitting you while Joel lets you ride it out onto his face. Your eyes roll back and you whimper quietly as you come down, flopping onto the bed with a content little sigh, body going limp. Joel kisses his way up your stomach, chest, and finally your lips, where you taste that primal honey of yourself on his lips. You quickly fall back into a dozing, lazy state before Joel wakes you again with his lips on your neck.
“Gonna order us room service,” he whispers near your ear, and you nod, finally opening your eyes to see your husband’s rugged, handsome face hovering above yours. Sharp smirk, stress lines, wild bedhead and all - he’s perfect, and you can’t help but smile sleepily in return.
“There she is,” he teases, giving your forehead a smooch. “One mention of breakfast and she’s all bright eyed ‘n bushy tailed, huh?” You stick your tongue out teasingly, waggling your head at him.
“How about we eat, then we can go explore the town, do a little shoppin’ f’you, see the sights ‘n all that, hm?” Joel asks, and you nod tiredly but excitedly.
“Mmm, sounds good,” you agree, blinking slowly as you try to wake up, finally coming to enough to recall the conversation the two of you had last night. The dreams you’d shared, hopes you had for having a child, all the ways your lives would change but also stay quite the same. The way your love would stay the same, deepen even, with seeing the other become a parent. Weighing it all carefully but with hopeful hushed voices, wondering if this was the right time for that next step for the two of you. When you’d both tearfully agreed that you’d start really trying in a few months after some more planning and thought, your heart soared higher than the clouds, than anywhere you could even conceive in your mind, chest tight with anticipation for all of it.
This morning that same feeling persists as you look upon Joel - so steady, so assured - everything you’ve ever dreamed of right here in this one man.
“How about we get some practice in while we wait for the food…” you suggest with your raspy, sleep laden voice, raising your brows at him as you feel his cock brush against you again, clearly hard and wanting.
“Baby makin’ practice?” Joel teases, scooping you up into his arms and peppering kisses all along the side of your face. “That kinda practice, hm? Not just an excuse to get me naked again?”
You laugh, turning your head to kiss him back, relishing in the familiar plumpness of his lips, the taste of your husband, all of it like a map you’ve traced your fingers over hundreds of times now, knowing every route, twist, and turn, filled with such a deep appreciation for the landscape laid out in front of you. You smile again as you two look at each other, feeling your cheeks starting to hurt from the way you’ve been grinning practically non-stop for the last two days because of your gruff but secretly so soft husband. Your hand moves upwards to cup his cheek, sincerity written all over you.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel.”
Joel smiles back, the same unspoken thoughts and deeply rooted loving care for you penned all over his features, entrenched in every weathered line, nook, and cranny of him.
“Happy Valentine’s, little doll.”
dividers by the amazing @/saradika-graphics <3
#fic: pretty little wife#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#x reader#the last of us fanfiction
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HI BABES MY LOVE MY DARLING I AM HERE TO REQUEST dammit i hate that it goes from my other acc tho ):<
BUT 13 PLSPSLPSLSPSLSPXLSPXPSLXPSLDPDPSP LUCKY NUMBER 13 AHAHAHA
also congrats on 500 babes you deserve the recognition and more <3 <3 <3 xoxo love u
13. San choking you while riding his orgasm or Deny Yunho’s orgasm?
HELLO MY ANGEL MY BABY MY DARLING MY SWEETPEA YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND ✨ this was a tough choice btw got me sweating a little.
Where you decide to pull San’s strings on how long he can last through the stupid bet he made with his friends of not cumming for the whole month of November.
Warnings: smut, pwp, choking kink, cream pies, oh boy this got me hot and bothered, unprotected sex, pent up sexual frustration
Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff (message me to be in taglist!)
K’s 500: this or that: masterlist
You thought it was so fucking ridiculous when San stops cuddling and being physically intimate with you because why?
He made a bet with his members on winning No Nut November.
It is so ridiculous, especially when you see his eyes fucking sparkling when he tells you that Mingi was the first one to lose. Then Wooyoung a couple days later.
But as the weeks sink in, so does his sexual frustration. It had been 15 fucking days since he held on, but he was genuinely about to snap, especially when you are around him. Especially. You’re getting annoyed with his little shenanigans and his stupid fucking bet because fuck, you needed to be dicked down. But obviously, compared to San, you knew clear as day, who had the better self control. But you wanted to see how much longer he could take—especially in the state he’s in right now, and especially when you decide to be suggestive.
The night started off as normal—San coming back from practice, and you walking past him dressed only in a silk tank and shorts that pretty much could come off as panties from how fucking short they are. You’re drying your hair with a towel as you greet your partner like any other day you do, before giving him a peck on his lips, and San makes the mistake of letting his eyes lower to your chest, staring at the way your cleavage dips down and your nipples perking out from the thin fabric.
He stares after you as you make your way to the bed, dropping yourself comfortably as the pants hike up even higher. San swallows hard and he tells himself not to think too much into it, but also, since when did you own that set of lounge wear?
He showers and leaves the bathroom half naked before only fitting on his sweats as he joins you in the bed, his eyes still locked onto how loose the top looks on you.
“How was your practice?” You ask, as you look up from your phone to meet his gaze.
He blinks for a spilt second and shrugs. “It was okay, I guess. I’m feeling more confident.”
Your lips curl into a smile as you put your phone down and wrap your arms around his biceps. “That’s great, babe. I know you’re always doing your best,” you hum as you lean in, pressing your body weight onto his arm. San’s brain is starting to go haywire when he feels your almost bare tits just pressing onto him. He swiftly glances at the way your tits push against each other when you’re on his arm and it takes all of his strength to hold back and not to pin you down (especially since he hasn’t had an orgasm for two weeks now).
“I had such a rough day, you know. Boss was such a bitch…” you start after pulling away. San tries to listen intently, like the good boyfriend that he is, as you blabber about your work, but he can’t stop fucking staring at the way the strap of your top hangs off your shoulder, and more of your chest is exposed as you’re being animated about your day, your hands moving dramatically as your words flow in and out of his ears because he’s too busy watching your tits bounce as your nipples are pressing against the uselessly thin fabric.
You pout when you realise he isn’t listening and you climb onto his lap to get his attention, knowing damn well that he’s slowly getting hard.
“You’re not listening, babe”, you whine, your hands cupping his cheeks. San forces a laugh. No doubt you’re being so adorable right now but San is definitely beginning to lose his rationale when he realises that you’re not wearing any underwear. He cups his larger hands over yours and kisses your palm, stroking your hands gently.
“Apologies, Angel. Just had a tiring day at practice”, he replies as he closes the distance between the both of you. You giggle, before pressing your lips onto his, and he immediately caves in. But the moment he wants to part your lips open, you pull back, leaving him confused and, pretty damn hard. You go back to using your phone, completely disregarding him. His hand slips around your waist, pulling you to face him. You only smile in response before turning away, and San basks in the way the pants you wear hugs the curvature of your ass a little too well.
“Could you give me a massage, babe? My back is sore from being stuck in the office all day”, you ask, looking over your shoulder. San easily complies, confident that’ll get his mind out of the gutter.
Oh how wrong he was. Every time his presses against a sore spot, he has to bite his cheek when you groan and moan. He fucking swears that you’re doing it on purpose. It doesn’t help when you request him to go down your sides, and it takes all of his self control to just not grab your tits.
His final strings of self control and rational completely snaps when you turn around and your top had slid down so much that your nipples were pretty much just peeking out from the fabric.
You eye him up and down, watching the way he’s just fucking you with his eyes. You surprise your laughter.
“Why not just fuck me if you’re just gonna keep staring like that?”
You sit up, reaching to kiss his jaw.
“Come on, you know you want to, Sannie.”
He stares up at you as you slowly sink down on his cock, taking him inch by inch, and his hands squeeze against your hips.
“fuck, you’re so fuckin tight”, San groans, feeling his cock push through wall of muscles which are squeezing around him relentlessly. He fucking swears that he’s gonna just cum just being inside you but no, not yet. It would be such a fucking waste if he did, especially when he hasn’t had the chance to fuck you so good for two weeks.
“And why’s that? Oh right, because you wouldn’t fuck me”, you hiss as you feel his fat cock completely stretch you out. He’s filling you up so good and you’re already seeing stars. You tilt your head back, relishing the feeling of being filled to brim after so long. His cock twitches in you and you sigh in bliss.
San can’t come up with an answer, mostly because you were right and partially because he was deep inside you and his mind is doused in frenzy.
You lift your hips and drop, and your fingernails leave scratches on his chest as you hear hisses leave San. The moment you begin bouncing on his cock is when he really starts losing his fucking mind—whenever your cunt swallows him up, his mind goes completely blank, only dopamine filling every crevice of his brain as he watches the way your tits bounce when you’re riding him.
“Sannie, you feel so good. So big”, you whimper as he meets your thrusts with push of his hips, completely knocking your breath away.
“Fuck!” San curses, somehow managing to find the strength to overpower you, and towering over you, letting you fall onto the bed, now resting on your back, all with his cock still in you, as he locks both of your wrists above you, using his legs to leverage himself while he fucks you into the bed. He steadies himself well enough that his free hand is around your neck, and he contracts his fingers, cutting off the oxygen as he pounds into you mercilessly. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the only thing you’re feeling is his cock driving in and out of you. Broken moans are leaving your lips and San is staring down at you, swelling with pride when you’re withering so fucking good from the pleasure that you’re just taking whatever he’s giving you. Fuck the bet. He wants to make sure you’re so full that you’d be leaking for days on end when he’s done.
“Just like that baby, keep taking my cock like the good girl you are”, he coos, making sure every stroke he gives your cunt is so deep that you feel his balls pressing against your ass. Tears streak down your face and you’re blabbering incoherence whenever he releases his grip on your neck. He begins rutting into you, and he’s completely lost in bliss—desperate to chase his high.
The fucked out expression San wears makes you more aroused and you feel your stomach tighten, and when San hits the pretty spot in your tight little pussy, your cunt convulses, and before you could even process it, your orgasm hits you so fucking hard and you completely go still, eyes rolled back, seeing the fucking galaxy, as you cream all over his cock while riding out your orgasm.
“Oh my fucking god, babe. Are you fucking kidding me? You’re gonna send me to the heavens at this rate,” he grits when he cock gets squeezed even more.
His hand still around your neck, he pulls you back to face his face, making sure he milks your orgasm clean. He curses another “fuck”before he sees white spots, his turn to still into you pressing his body weight onto you, tightening his grip around your neck, watching you sob from the overstimulation as he lets ropes of cum just spurt into your abused cunt.
“Fuck me, babe. Look at how much cum is for you”, he moans, jutting his hips periodically, emptying himself into you, his cum filling you up so much that it begins leaking out of your hole even when he’s still in you.
“So good. San, I’m so full”, you sob, holding your legs up, making sure to hold as much of his cum as you could in your small cunt. He releases his grip on your neck and the oxygen burns in your lungs. You catch your breath, your body spasming slightly as San pulls out from you slowly, and his cum leaks out to your inner thigh.
“Damn. I can’t believe I’m the third to go down”, San sighs once his high teeters off.
“Please, you never stood a chance”, you scoff. San turns to face you, his eyes narrowing, before he has you under him again, his hands pinning you down as you feel his thighs push your legs open once more.
He dons a smirk before he presses his bare, hard and cum-covered cock onto your wet entrance. You gasp as your gaze flutters up to meet his.
“I don’t think you’ll stand a chance for the next few rounds I’m gonna give you, baby. You’re asking for it.”
#k’s500thisorthat🌶️#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez smut#smut#ateez fic#kpop smut#choi san smut#Choi san#san ateez#ateez san
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the shape of your body (explicit)
genre: fluffy slowburn smut
pairing: jimin x reader
summary: the same day you finally manage to speak to your months-long public transit crush, you end up seeing much more of him than you bargained for.
word count: 24k 🙇♀️
contains: explicit sexual content~*~ (after a slow burn lmao) - new york city grad school AU, strangers to lovers, reader is an art student, public transit thirsting, jimin is a dancer and a nude model, namgi and vhope as side characters, basically everyone is gay (they're ART STUDENTS in NEW YORK CITY it's called realism 💅), a smidge of member x member side character relationships, jimin is biromantic demisexual 👀, conversations about body image issues/past relationship struggles/demisexuality and libido, soooo much making out, a couple "failed attempts" at sex, accidental voyeurism (but not how you think lmao YOU'LL SEE), showering together non-sexually, and: fingering, clit stim, nipple play, come eating/sharing 🤭 an attempted blowjob, face sitting, & protected sex (multiple rounds 🥵)
A/N: asjdshgkdfjgs i can't believe it's done 😭 there were so many times i thought i would never finish this fic !!! i have too many friends to thank for talking me off of SEVERAL ledges where i was convinced this whole thing was trash and that i should just stick to short porn or perhaps simply never write again. i'm so glad i saw this one through because there are concepts in here that are deeply important and personal to me wehhh 🫠 i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this one!! thank u for enduring mostly radio silence while i was in jimin lockdown, and of course, happy early birthday to mini, the light of my mf life 🥰💜
(oh and LDOMLT ch 8 is coming next so buckle tf up bitches 👀)
an eternity of smooches to @haliiimede for beta reading and just generally being the best fucking person on planet earth ✨ AND TO @goodsoop FOR THE DEMI SENSITIVITY READ VERY SORRY THAT I AM THE WORLD'S LARGEST IDIOT AND FORGOT TO CREDIT..... i love you both 🥺
read on AO3!
~*~
You’ve taken the subway thousands of times since moving to New York.
Morning rides, squeezed nearly to death between commuters in suits blinking back sleep and school-uniformed kids scream-laughing and paper coffee cups gripped tight by winter-numb fingers.
Long trips with your sketchbook on your lap, riding the line all the way to Pelham Bay Park and back, to surface above ground out where there’s a little more space to breathe, until the setting sun floods orange glow between the buildings just before you descend again.
Late nights coming home, Namjoon’s head thudding back against the train window behind him as he dozes off, one arm thrown around your shoulder to ward off any drunk creeps, his free hand interlaced with Yoongi’s on his other side.
It’s always been the three of you, first in friendship, and now that the two of them have figured out they’re something more, you don’t mind it. But when it’s late and you’ve had enough drinks to feel warm all the way through, to melt something open inside of you, and you glance over to see a loving flicker of eyelashes exchanged as Namjoon leans down and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s temple, you can’t help it.
There’s a little bit of an ache there, right behind your ribs. Sometimes.
But mostly, when it comes to the train, you take the 6 to school. You go through the motions this morning the same as you always do: headphones around your neck, bag slung over your shoulder, immediately dropping into the first empty seat you see as the train doors shudder closed and the car starts to move. Six stops down, 51st street to Astor Place, five days a week, you know it like a heartbeat.
You just wish you knew him, too.
Subway Boy, as Yoongi affectionately labeled him the time you got two pitchers of margaritas deep and made the mistake of confessing to your roommates about your crush— if it can even be called that. Can you truly have a crush on someone you know nothing about, not even their name?
Well, you know a few things.
He must live further north than you, because on the days you see him, he’s already on the train when you board at 51st.
He must like music, because he always has a set of fancy bluetooth earbuds in.
You’re pretty sure he’s an athlete of some sort, because he’s usually carrying a gym bag—and because during this summer’s heat wave, the one and only time you’ve seen him wear shorts, you nearly fainted at the thick, defined muscles of his thighs.
He has an affinity for jewelry, delicate silver always glinting through the multiple piercings in his ears. At odds with this, he seems to prefer to dress comfortably, and you’ve seen him in enough branded school t-shirts and sweats to figure he must also be an NYU student, though you can’t say for sure if he’s undergrad or graduate.
You deeply hope you’re not crushing on someone who still needs a fake ID to drink, but there’s no way to be certain.
Most importantly, you know that he is absolutely stunning. Elegantly handsome, with expressive deep brown eyes, skin like glass, and round cheeks and full lips that flush frozen pink on particularly frigid New York days. His hair has changed colors a few times over the months that have passed since you first took notice of him, but it’s currently a honey blonde, and long enough that he often reaches up to card a hand through it. He does it now, pushing loose strands back to expose his forehead as he frowns down at his phone.
On days where you share the same car, you notice very little else that happens on the ride, thoroughly entranced in Subway Boy’s beauty and his mystery. The train could probably catch fire and you’d miss it entirely.
Today happens to be one of those days, and excitement glitters in your bloodstream as you realize he’s seated across from you. The rush of seeing him always feels like its own reward, some kind of cosmic sign that the day is going to be a good one.
And then the train stops moving.
There’s an audible reaction from a few people in the car, and you glance up a moment later when a voice buzzes over the intercom. You’re able to make out “attention passengers” and very little after that, just the basics about some sort of unforeseen interruption of service and that the train should resume moving again soon.
You sigh, knowing very well that the MTA’s definition of ‘soon’ does not often align with typical human expectations. Figuring you’ve got some time to kill, you reach into your bag to retrieve your sketchbook and the first pencil you can dig out of the bottom.
“What did they say?” A voice, quiet and deep, surprises you before you can even flip to your in-progress page.
You glance up to find Subway Boy staring at you, forearms braced on his knees as he leans forward into the gap between his seat and yours. He’s got one bluetooth earbud pinched between his fingertips and a confused look on his face, having clearly missed the announcement.
Heat floods your face at the feeling of his eyes fixed on you, and it takes you a second to form a response. “Uh— I didn’t get most of it. Something about unforeseen interruption. And that we’ll be moving again soon.”
A muscle works in his jaw as he rolls his eyes. “Typical.”
“I don’t think they know what ‘soon’ means,” you murmur, mostly to yourself as you tear your gaze away from Subway Boy and return to the sketchbook in your lap, rifling through to find your latest half-finished drawing. When you hear him huff a laugh, you have to bite down on the hopeful smile that threatens to shine across your face.
“Definitely not.”
You force yourself to keep your eyes on the page, assuming Subway Boy must go back to his music when he falls silent after his last comment.
With featherlight flicks of your pencil, you start to add a little depth to the quick study you were working on last night, Yoongi’s half-peeled tangerine that he left abandoned on the coffee table when he stepped out onto the fire escape for a smoke.
Subway Boy’s voice catches you off guard a second time. “Are you drawing?”
You bite down on your lip again, a nervous habit, and you nod as you tilt the page so he can see from across the car.
“Wow.” You wonder if you’re imagining the way his voice seems to soften a little. “You’re really good. Are you an artist?”
You can’t help it— your gaze flits up to meet his again. It’s nearly overwhelming to lock eyes with your Subway Boy and hear him compliment you, like something out of a wild daydream. “I guess so,” you remark, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a small smile as you say it. “I’ve certainly paid NYU enough money in my attempts to become one.”
“Know the feeling,” he scoffs, but his eyes smile back, pulled into crescent moons.
“What did you pay them for?”
“Currently, a dual MFA/MA in dance and… teaching dance. Really went all-in on the dancer thing.”
“Oh.” Your eyes widen automatically. You’ve wondered— and yes, occasionally drunkenly speculated with your roommates— what Subway Boy’s line of work might be, but you have no idea why dancer never occurred to you. Because now all the pieces suddenly fall together in front of you: the toned muscles that flex beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, the natural grace he exudes, not to mention his perfect posture.
Of course he’s a dancer. It makes perfect sense.
It occurs to you, a beat too late, that a wide-eyed ‘oh’ is not the most normal response to a truly innocuous answer to a question asked of a random stranger.
But the smile in his eyes doesn’t falter. “I feel like I see you on this train a lot.”
Your stomach flutters like butterfly wings, and you have to look away, back down to the safety of your sketchbook. “Really?”
There’s an extra pause before he speaks again. “Man, sorry. Think I misread that. Now I feel creepy. I promise I’ve only noticed you a normal amount.” Your eyes snap back up to find him wincing slightly, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.
“No, no, I’m— it’s not—” you stammer, trying to recover. “I, uh— me too, I have too. Noticed you. A normal amount. I… I don’t know why I just pretended like I didn’t.”
Subway Boy leans forward, head dropping down with a genuine laugh that shakes his shoulders, and you can’t help but laugh too, out of sheer embarrassment. He’s beaming when he rights himself again, and it sends a thrill buzzing through you, all the way down to your fingertips still clutched tight to your pencil.
“That makes me feel better,” he admits. “At least we’re both creepy.”
As if the universe itself is intervening to save you from any further humiliation, the train shudders back to life and begins to move again. The sigh you breathe is a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.
“That’s definitely a new record,” you say shyly as you move to shove your things back in your bag. “Maybe the MTA actually looked up what ‘soon’ means.”
His focus is tracked over your shoulder when you look up again, and his eyes dance left to right to chase the patterns in the subway tile as you pull into the next station.
“Guess it’s a miracle,” he says softly, not making eye contact.
“Must be,” you murmur back, letting your gaze drop to the floor, unable to hide your smile now.
He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do you, but the warm flush stays in your face for the rest of the ride. When the train pulls into the Astor Place station, you and Subway Boy get to your feet simultaneously, so quickly that your bags knock together as you pull them over your shoulders.
“Sorry,” you say in unison, immediately sharing an exhaled laugh at the synchronicity of the moment.
The doors slide open and he gestures for you to go first before following after. It’s a surprise— he’s never gotten off at Astor before, and when he doesn’t take the option of heading in another direction but instead falls into lockstep next to you, you seize the opportunity.
“Astor Place today, huh?” You hope the observation still falls into the category of ‘noticing a normal amount’.
“Yeah, first day of a new gig. What about you? Class?”
You nod. “Pretty standard stuff. But we start a new unit today, so that’s fun.”
“You in grad school too?”
“Yup, MFA in studio art.” You can’t help but tease, just a little. “Only one master’s degree for me, I’m such a slacker.”
His eyes squint again as he smiles. “Hey, I’m just glad you’re not, like, eighteen.”
“I thought that too!” You keep talking before you can stop yourself. “I mean, when I was… noticing. I distinctly remember thinking, like, please let me not be thirsting over a straight-up child right now.”
“Ahh...” Subway Boy trails off, and you can see a faint pink starting to blossom in the apples of his cheeks. “You were thirsting?”
You can’t help but scrunch your nose up slightly, resisting the urge to full-body cringe at your own stupid mouth. “We are now officially both creepy.”
He fidgets a little with the strap of the dance bag slung over his shoulder. “Hopefully I’m living up to the hype.”
You’re grateful to reach the art building before you can dig your grave any deeper. You nod your head in the direction of the glass doors as you slow to a stop, and he does, too. “This is me.”
“It’s actually me, too,” he remarks, glancing up at the building as if to double-check. “But I have a little bit, so I’m gonna grab a coffee I think. But it was nice to finally talk to you. Not that— sorry, that was weird. Take out the finally. It was good to talk. Meet a fellow starving artist and all.”
You worry your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, until you finally work up the courage to ask the question. “Do you have a name?”
“Oh!” His eyes widen, more heat-blush coloring his face. “Yeah. Park Jimin. Probably could’ve led with that.”
You give him your name, and his voice is like music when he repeats it back.
“Well, good luck in class,” Jimin says with a nod. “And hopefully I’ll see you around sometime.” A smile toys at the corner of his mouth, and then he pauses as his words seem to catch up to him. “Well, I mean. I guess I know I will. On the— train— yeah, I’m gonna go before I say any more stupid things.”
“Bye Jimin,” you giggle, and he gives a shy departing wave before he spins on his heel. As he walks away, you can’t help but notice the way he drops his gaze and shakes his head, like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his social performance.
And just like that, Subway Boy has a name— one that loops in your head as you float to class, barely feeling your feet touch the floor. Park Jimin. It’s sweet like him, warm sunshine in your veins as you shoulder open the door to the studio, grab a seat, and start to get set up.
A voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin as Kim Taehyung leans in, having occupied the seat next to you while you were off in la-la land. “Know what the new unit is?” You start to shake your head, then realize it was a rhetorical question when he waggles his eyebrows and continues. “Life drawing. Ready for some naked people?”
You roll your eyes and grab at the strings of his gray beanie, pulling it down over his fluffy hair and eyes in one swift tug. “Bro, we are literally in grad school. Stop acting like a virgin.”
“Like you weren’t thinking it too,” he grumbles to himself as he shoves the hat back up his forehead.
You shoot him a look as your professor signals the class to settle and launches in. It’s the same routine as each unit you’ve rotated through in your graduate studio, so you only half-listen, mostly distracted by Taehyung tearing open the paper wrapper of a red heart-shaped lollipop and popping it into his mouth. His latest oral fixation in his millionth attempt to quit vaping.
You lean down to dig into your bag, trying to ignore the sound of hard candy clacking against teeth as you fish out both pencils and charcoal to give yourself options. You pull a couple of each out of their cases, glancing up in an attempt to refocus on the professor, who is still talking.
It takes a second for your brain to process the image in front of you. His shy smile has been replaced with a serious, professional expression, but there’s no questioning the familiar face, the posture, the silver jewelry, the way he reaches up to run a hand through his hair. Subway Boy Park Jimin is standing in the center of the room, wearing a short black satin dressing gown.
Your jaw goes slack. It feels like it happens in slow motion as you watch Jimin’s strong hands move down to undo the sash at his waist before he shrugs off the flimsy fabric and lets it fall to the floor. And then he’s not wearing anything at all.
You lose your grip entirely on your handful of pencils, and they hit the studio floor with a clatter that certainly feels deafening, each one choosing to roll off in a different direction.
Taehyung glances over at you, brow slightly creased. The lollipop tucked in his cheek impedes his speech slightly, but not enough that you can’t understand him. “Now who’s the virgin?”
You crouch down, praying that maybe you can gather your things unnoticed, but it already feels like every pair of eyes in the room is burning a hole in your back. To his credit, Taehyung at least helps a little, extending a sandaled foot to kick any pencils he can reach over towards you. You scramble around the room to chase after the rest, and you can’t bear to look up and see if Jimin is watching you or not. You’re not sure which would be worse.
Fighting the urge to army crawl out of the room, you grip both hands tightly around your materials as you return to your seat, then tuck everything into the tray of the easel in front of you. You’re a professional, you tell yourself. It’s not like it’s your first time drawing someone nude.
It’s just your first time doing it when you happen to have a crush on them.
But it’s fine. You let out an exhale to ground yourself, then pick up a pencil. It’s just a body.
You vaguely recall hearing your professor explain that you’d be moving through ten quick-sketch poses to begin with, each held for only a few minutes, before switching to a few longer sessions for the rest of class. As you were too busy chasing your pencils around the room, you’ve missed the first pose entirely, and you have to work quickly to get a very rough outline of the second before Jimin moves again at the professor’s instruction.
He switches so fluidly from one pose to the next, and you have so little time, it’s enough to get you out of your head just trying to keep up. You find yourself falling comfortably into a flow state, focused on little more than lines and shapes in front of you and the act of reproducing them on your page. It’s an exercise you know well, and the repetition of it soothes you.
The studio is quiet, save for the scratching of pencils on paper and the soft classical music your professor has switched on.
By the time you finish sketching the tenth pose, it feels like you can breathe a little easier, and your professor offers Jimin a quick break just as you lean back to admire your work. You do your best to quickly duck behind your easel as he stretches, then reaches for a bottle of water set on a nearby table.
Taehyung removes his sheet of sketches and sets it aside before leaning in, pressing his face against his easel to match yours. “He’s cute. Bet he gets like, infinite ass-pussy. Just the absolute most.”
“Shut up, Tae!” You jerk your foot out to kick the leg of his chair, and a boxy grin stretches over his face as he giggles. You stare daggers back. “You’re too damn horny today. Like you didn’t just get your ass eaten in the supply closet last week.” The rumor had spread through your cohort practically overnight— probably started by Taehyung himself.
The menace in question shoots you an over-exaggerated wink. “And I’d do it again, too.”
You roll your eyes. “Nasty.”
The professor claps to get everyone’s attention again, and you peer around your easel to watch as Jimin resumes his place at the center of the room. You settle in for the first of a few longer, more detailed sketches, trying desperately to keep your cool about it. But Jimin is unquestionably gorgeous.
He turns to the side for the first pose, arms wrapped around his muscular torso and eyes downcast, fingertips and thumb resting over his neck and chin as if to cradle his own face in his hand. After a long stretch of time where you manage to get most of a sketch done, the professor cues him to move into a second pose, and he faces the back wall, reaching up to drape his arms over each other, crossed wrists resting delicately on the crown of his head.
You could easily see him as a statue carved out of marble, and you try to ignore the flutter of your heartbeat as you attempt to translate his beauty onto your page each time. You have to hold in several sighs as you work on outlining the strong, toned muscles of his back and thighs— not to mention his perky ass. You can’t help but wonder if the rest of the class is struggling silently, too.
You’re beginning to think you might survive after all when the professor asks Jimin to move again and he does, shaking his body out slightly before reaching to grab a provided stool and shift it to the center of the room. He takes a seat, abdominals flexing as he leans back on his hands and unabashedly lets his legs fall open.
Fuck. You nearly snap your pencil in half.
You try desperately to keep it together as you start your third sketch with unsteady hands. The minutes tick by, and you aren’t aware of Taehyung’s eyes on your paper until you hear his stupid whisper again. “Why aren’t you drawing his dick?”
He’s not wrong. There is a noticeable blank spot at the center of your page. “I’m getting there,” you huff. “Worry about your own sketch, Tae.”
“Girl, you are literally doing detail shading on his legs and he doesn’t even have a penis. What is he, a Ken doll?”
You grit your teeth and refuse to dignify Taehyung with a response. Fine. You can do this, you tell yourself. Don’t think. Just look and draw. It’s not a big deal.
With a hard swallow, you trace your eyes down his body, and… well, you don’t know what you were expecting. It’s just a soft penis resting limp between his legs, framed by an extremely regular pair of balls. Nothing scary, though you can’t quite will the heat back out of your face, can’t manage to silence the recurring thought that makes your stomach drop— it’s cute.
You resist the urge to smack your head against your easel as you finally fill in your sketch’s dick.
You somehow manage to survive the rest of class, but relief still floods your veins when your professor signals for everyone to wrap up what they’re doing for the day. Jimin starts to come alive again from the fixed pose, tilting his head to one side until something cracks audibly in his neck. You tear your gaze away for fear that his eyes might find yours, and shove everything into your bag as quickly as you can, not even caring what ends up where.
“Where’s the fire?” Taehyung questions beside you, but you ignore him.
You zip your bag up and sling it over your shoulder, then make a beeline for the exit, keeping your eyes fixed firmly on the floor. It’s only once the studio door swings shut behind you that you feel like you can breathe again, and you have to keep yourself from outright sprinting to your next class.
~*~
The rest of the day rushes by in an overwhelming blur, your focus entirely shot by the events of the morning. You collapse into a seat on your train home, hugging your bag to your chest, thankful for the first time in your life to not be sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.
When you turn your keys in the lock and stumble in the front door of the apartment, the divine smell of what could only be Yoongi’s cooking immediately hits you full-force. You find him in the kitchen with a towel thrown over his shoulder, searing a large steak in a cast iron pan for what must be a planned date night with Namjoon.
You wrap your arms around his tiny waist from behind as you approach. He responds with his usual greeting: a soft grunt of mild discomfort.
“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, trying to sound as sweet as possible.
“You just did,” Yoongi notes.
You decide to let his sass go, since you really do need help. “Two more?” Yoongi hums, somewhat affirmative, and you continue. “I know you work like 47 jobs and never get any time off—“
“Some of us have to pay rent without the luxury of stipends or rich parents, yes—“
“But is there any way I could… maybe possibly encroach upon your date night just this once? It’s an emergency. I need advice.”
Yoongi sighs, and you shift to peek over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around him as you watch the way he tilts the pan to one side, collecting butter on a spoon to baste over the steak as it cooks. You squish your cheek into his bicep.
“Lucky for you,” he begins, his tone relenting, “Namjoonie just called. They’ve got him working late to prep for the exhibition next month. So date night was canceled anyway.”
“Aw, Yoongiiiii.” You squeeze him tight enough that he makes another disgruntled noise, and you finally release your grip. “I’ll be your girlfriend tonight.”
He rolls his eyes, but willingly plays along. “Then get the wine, darling?”
You fall into a typical routine: Yoongi pulls a tray of roasted vegetables out of the oven as he lets the steak rest, while you grab a bottle of red at his instruction and fight with the corkscrew in an attempt to get it open. Yoongi watches you, slow-blinking, unamused.
“You wouldn’t last an hour in the restaurant industry.”
“Either help me, or shut up,” you hiss through clenched teeth.
When you finally get settled at your tiny kitchen table, Yoongi nods as if to prompt you while he fills each wine glass with a heavy pour. “Let’s hear it.”
You take a deep breath before launching in and recounting the events of your day, trying not to choke as you simultaneously stuff your face with food. Yoongi eats and listens quietly, no discernible reaction on his face save the occasional lift of his eyebrows. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as you finish detailing the way you ran out of the studio the minute class ended.
“Alright. So you saw Subway Boy naked, big deal. Do you know how many dicks I’ve seen?”
You groan. “Spare me the details, please.”
“But this is what you wanted, right?” You shrug, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t play coy now. You’ve been lusting after this kid for months like a weirdo. So why are you stressed?”
“Because!” you huff, frustrated. “It’s— it’s out of order. It’s not like he chose to get naked in front of me specifically, he obviously just thought it was going to be a roomful of strangers. And it seemed like maybe we could be friends or something, but now I don’t know if I should keep pursuing that or just leave him alone. I want to be respectful, but I don’t want him to think I took one look at his penis and decided I didn’t like him anymore, but then it’s like, how do I hold a conversation when he and I both know I have seen his penis, not only seen but studied it, drawn it, and will continue to, weekly, in detail, from multiple angles—“
“You are absolutely overthinking this,” Yoongi laughs into his glass of wine, downing the rest before he continues. “Just get on the fucking train and say hi like a normal, well-adjusted human. This is my advice to you.”
You sigh as you shove a roasted potato in your mouth. “At least you’re a good cook.”
“I’m a great cook,” Yoongi corrects you as he gets to his feet. “Now help me with these dishes.”
~*~
Yoongi’s advice continues to echo in your brain as you lapse back into something like normalcy for the rest of the week.
When the day of your studio class rolls around again, you find yourself hustling not to miss the train, having hit snooze on your alarm a few too many times that morning. You fly down the subway steps just as the 6 is pulling into the station, and you try to ignore the way your pulse is already quickening, telling yourself it’s just from rushing and nothing else.
Pulling the strap of your bag up on your shoulder, you make it to the platform just as the train doors slide open, and your heart instantly leaps into your throat. There he is, leaning against a pole, overwhelmingly beautiful as ever. Park Jimin.
He’s scrolling through something on his phone and hasn’t yet looked up to notice you, and you find yourself frozen in place, jostled angrily by commuters exiting and boarding the train on either side of you.
Panic floods your veins. There’s no time to talk yourself off the ledge, no time to remember Yoongi’s words of wisdom, no time to do anything but make a snap decision. So you do the only thing that feels right: you turn around and sprint back up the stairs and out of the subway station.
The sidewalk is equally bustling, and you try to dodge people while you think through what to do despite the way your head is spinning. You were already going to be cutting it close for time today, and you don’t exactly have the disposable income for a taxi or an Uber. As you try to settle your racing thoughts, your eyes alight on a rack of Citibikes.
Fuck it. You don’t have a better option. Securing your bag on your back, you quickly scan the code to unlock the bike, then shove your phone in your pocket and swing your leg over the seat.
You’ve never biked in Manhattan traffic before, but it can’t be that difficult, you tell yourself. Definitely easier than sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.
Thankfully the street you’re on has a defined bike path, and you do your best to follow the flow of traffic, squeezing your hand brakes to slow to a stop when you hit a red light. It’s been years since you’ve ridden a bike that wasn’t stationary, but it comes back to you relatively easily, like— well, riding a bike.
When you hit a long stretch of green lights, you do your best to pick up speed, trying to make up for lost time. An approaching red light threatens to slow you down again, and you breathe a sigh of relief as it flips to green at the last possible second.
Just as your front tire rolls into the intersection, a deafening car horn nearly gives you a heart attack. You instinctively slam your grip tight around your brakes, and your bike screeches to a halt so fast you’re almost flung over the handlebars. A taxi just barely veers around you as it plows down the intersecting avenue, and you gasp for air, adrenaline coursing through your system.
Holy shit.
You drop one foot to the ground for leverage as you try to get your pulse back under control— you’re pretty sure you just saw your life flash before your eyes. Reality feels a million miles away, but you’re vaguely aware of someone shouting after the car as it speeds down the street.
“Fucking asshole!”
It takes a few seconds for you to realize that it’s a familiar voice, and when you do, you whip around as best you can with a bike between your legs.
“Yoongi?!”
“Oh my god,” Yoongi groans, knuckles blanching as he presses down on his own brakes. “What the fuck are you doing?”
You squint, taking in the helmet strapped over his wavy dark hair and the insulated bag tucked into the basket on the front of his bike. “Since when do you deliver food?”
He grimaces, speaking up to be heard over the noise of traffic. “I just do it to make extra money when my hours suck.”
“What about the coffee shop?”
He shakes his head. “They only have me opening Mondays and Wednesdays right now.”
“What about the bar?”
“That’s just weekends, reliably. Sometimes extra evenings, but only if someone calls out.”
“What about the—”
“Christ, woman!” Yoongi cuts you off with a growl. “The food’s gonna get cold if I have to sit here and run through my entire résumé with you! Are you alright? Why aren’t you taking the subway?”
“Because!” you snap back. “There is a man on that train whose dick I’ve seen and I… I don’t know how to handle it! Okay?!” Though you don’t intend to raise your voice, it comes out loud enough that a group of high school kids on their phones exchange stifled giggles as they fast-walk around you.
“Well you need to be fucking careful,” Yoongi chides. “Biking in the city is not for the faint of heart. And if I’m not allowed to give in to my suicidal ideation, you’re not allowed to crack your head open on the pavement all because you’re trying to avoid a penis.”
“Fine,” you spit back through gritted teeth. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.” You push off the asphalt, legs still shaking a little with excess nerves as you re-find your balance and make your way cautiously through the intersection.
The rush of wind in your ears isn’t quite loud enough to drown out Yoongi calling after you as you bike away. “It’s only weird if you make it weird!”
When you somehow make it to Astor Place in one piece, you dock your bike and quickly sprint to the building, well aware that you’re already late. It’s only once you push the studio door open that you realize how truly frazzled and out of breath you are, and though you keep your gaze fixed on the floor, you can feel every pair of eyes in the room on you. You hold a hand up in an apologetic wave and hurry to find your seat.
Trying to collect yourself, you begin to unpack your materials as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the class. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear Kim Taehyung’s voice beside you.
“You’re sweaty. Why are you so sweaty?”
He’s got an eyebrow cocked when you look over, and you give him the most powerful death glare you can muster, enough that it must actually scare him. “Shutting up now,” Taehyung murmurs, voice shaking slightly as he returns to his own sketches, and you huff an exhale as you attempt to catch up to the rest of the group.
Class passes surprisingly quickly once you manage to get your breath back, much in the same way it did the week prior: you do your best to compartmentalize the body in front of you from the human person you have a giant, embarrassing crush on. It goes decently well in the moments where Jimin is frozen in a fixed pose, just lines and curves and light and shadow for you to emulate. During the breaks when he comes alive again, you hide out behind your easel, trying to ignore Taehyung’s inane bullshit and wishing you could disappear entirely.
The second your professor dismisses everyone for the day, you stuff your things back into your bag, hoping to once again speed-walk out of the room.
But despite your better judgment, you can’t help yourself this time. As you get to your feet, you glance up to watch Jimin pull his dressing gown back on, only to realize his eyes are already on you.
You’re distinctly aware of how much of a mess you must look from biking over, and the fact that you almost assuredly smudged charcoal on your face when you reached up absentmindedly to scratch an itch mid-sketch.
Jimin’s plush lips turn up in the smallest of smiles, and the bottom drops out of your stomach.
With a hard swallow, you avert your gaze from his, sling your bag over your shoulder, and quickly make your escape through the studio door. You can feel your pulse pounding in your throat even after he’s out of your sight, and your hands shake like a leaf all the way to your next class.
~*~
That night, sleep evades you until the early hours of the morning, and it feels like you’ve only just begun to doze off when the harsh noise of your alarm pulls you up from dreaming. You roll over in bed and glare accusingly at your phone, then shut it off, promptly letting the waves drag you under once more, seminar be damned.
It’s nearly noon when you finally make it out of bed and stumble into the living room in your sweats. Namjoon is curled up in his reading chair, a feat for someone of his size, surrounded as always by his massive stack of ever-changing ‘to read’ books. He glances up from the one that’s open on his lap, clearly surprised to see you.
“No class?” Namjoon’s voice is rough-edged, like he’s only just woken up himself.
“Skipped,” you grunt. His eyes track you as you cross the room and collapse face-first onto the couch.
“Is this about the penis?”
The cushion muffles your groan. “Not you too.”
You hear the distinct fluttering sound of Namjoon closing his book and shifting in his seat to give you his undivided attention. “Seems like you want to talk about it.”
You turn your head to the side to take in your roommate. “Maybe. Are you gonna give me the same stupid advice your boyfriend did?”
He smiles softly, one dimple flexing at the corner of his mouth. “I can try to be gentler.”
You huff as you flip onto your side, pressing your palms together and slipping them under your cheek. “Sounds like you’ve got the details already, so please. Enlighten me. Tell me how I’m supposed to handle seeing this guy naked once a week in the name of art.”
“Didn’t William Blake say ‘Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed’?” Namjoon poses it like a serious question, brow creased as if in contemplation, and you roll your eyes.
“I don’t know, Joon, did he? I said enlighten me, not write me a thesis.” You reach up to grab a couch pillow and fling it in his direction, missing by several inches. “Did Blake have anything in there on dealing with a naked crush and trying not to make it weird as fuck?”
“Well, does he seem weirded out by it?” Namjoon counters, patient as ever.
“I don’t know.” You shrug unsurely as you play back your last interaction with Jimin. “He smiled at me yesterday, at the end of class.”
Namjoon steeples his fingers together, leaning forward slightly in his chair, interest clearly piqued. “Okay, and what did you do?”
You squeeze your eyes shut. “I… threw all my shit in my bag and ran out of the room.” When you crack an eye open again, you can see Namjoon trying and failing to keep the smug smile off his face, his dimples giving him away.
“Maybe you could try smiling back next time?” he gently suggests.
You sigh, because you know he’s right. “You make it sound so easy. What’s next? You’re going to tell me to talk to him?”
He laughs a little. “I’d quote another poet, but I fear you might launch more projectiles at me.”
You narrow your eyes at him. “Let’s hear it, nerd.”
Namjoon clears his throat for dramatic effect before launching into a recitation. “‘It’s cool, not tryna put a rush on you / I had to let you know, that I got a crush on you.’”
There’s a wide grin on his face as you sit all the way up. “Did you just quote Biggie Smalls at me?”
“Hey, I appreciate all forms of poetry.”
You feign annoyance, but you can’t quite hide the smile beneath it, and you get to your feet as Namjoon continues to mumble a verse of Crush on You under his breath. “Whatever. I need to do laundry.”
“Oh—” Namjoon pauses to interrupt himself. “Lucky’s closed, by the way.”
Already halfway out of the living room, you whip around again at the mention of the laundromat you’ve been exclusive with for the last few years. “What?”
He nods solemnly. “Me and Yoongi found out the hard way last week. They’re putting in an Equinox.”
Your face twists in disgust. “A stupid bougie gym?! You’ve got to be kidding me. Where am I supposed to wash my fucking clothes?”
“We found a place a few blocks up. Quick Clean, or something like that.” Namjoon shifts to dig his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send you the address. It’s not bad, just a little more expensive.”
“This is such bullshit,” you groan as you stomp back into your bedroom, the day already off to a terrible start.
In a gentrification-induced rage, you angrily shove the contents of your overflowing laundry hamper into the giant yellow IKEA bag hung up in your closet, just barely managing to fit it all. Glancing at the mirror on the back of the door, you briefly consider changing out of your sweats, or at the very least doing something with your hair, but you shrug it off— it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone at the damn laundromat.
You grab your headphones off your desk and sling them around your neck, double-check that your sketchbook is still tucked into your bag, then lug everything out to the front hallway. You pull your slides off the shoe rack and slip your socked feet into them.
“Bye, nerd!” you call over your shoulder to Namjoon before the front door slams shut behind you.
By the time you make it to the weird new laundromat, you’re sweaty and pissed off. You knew the walk to Lucky’s by heart, but you had to do this one while looking down at your phone GPS and trying not to get hit by a car. Not an easy feat while carrying every article of clothing you own over one shoulder.
You miss the way the nice old man who owned Lucky’s would greet you warmly and sneak you a cup of coffee from his pot in the back, the way his cat would roll over on the front counter for belly rubs, the way there was always a deeply entertaining telenovela playing on the ancient tiny TV.
The stupid Quick Clean has none of these things, just a shitty pile of magazines in the seating area and weirdly sticky floors. You slam into the front door a little harder than is necessary to push it open, the bell tinkling violently overhead as you enter. The only compliment you can give the place is that it’s relatively dead, save for a couple people on their phones or half-asleep in chairs as they wait on their stuff, and two guys in the corner loading armfuls of wet clothes into a pair of dryers.
You grab a machine a respectful distance away from them and swing the door open when a laugh that’s nearly musical gives you pause. Unable to shake a sense of familiarity, you glance over at your neighbors again, just in time to see one of them reach up to run a hand through his honey blonde hair.
Your IKEA bag hits the sticky floor with an audible thud as panic kickstarts your heart.
This isn’t fucking happening. Of all the laundromats in New York City, you did not just manage to stumble into the one currently being used by Park Jimin.
But even before you can catch a glimpse of his profile, you’re already certain it can’t be anyone else. You’ve spent too much time familiarizing yourself with the slope of his neck, the definition of his forearms, his dainty hands. There’s no mistaking them, adorned today with several silver rings that catch the dim fluorescent light as he grabs more of his clothes from the washer.
The desperate need to turn around and run rises up in your chest, just as before, but this time you steel yourself. You can’t keep running away forever— particularly not when you pulled on your last clean pair of underwear this morning.
A rush of heat floods your face at the thought of the many pairs of underwear in your bag that will soon be sent spinning around this washing machine, where Jimin could easily see, but then it occurs to you that you have seen his penis. Maybe the trade-off will put you on slightly more equal footing.
But you really don’t need to be thinking about Park Jimin’s penis in this laundromat right now.
Shaking your head slightly to try and banish the thought, you set about your laundry routine, trying not to drop any unmentionables on the floor when you dump the contents of your tote into the washer. You dig quarters out of your bag and slot them into the machine, then press the button to start the cycle.
With a final exhale to steady yourself, you turn to look over your shoulder again, only to find Jimin leaning up against the empty dryer next to his, unabashedly watching you with a small smile on his face.
It occurs to you now that you couldn’t have put less effort into your appearance if you tried, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of every random stain on your sweatpants and your extremely fashionable socks and slides combination. Jimin’s just in a white t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans today, but literally everything looks fresh off the runway on him. You suppress the urge to walk out the door and go lay down in traffic, and instead take Namjoon’s advice: you smile back and even lift your hand in a shy wave.
You drop into an empty chair across from your machine and watch as Jimin starts to cross the room to join you, his eyes never leaving yours. Before he can make it, you suddenly become aware of someone else sliding into the seat beside you.
“You didn’t tell me she was cute, Jimin-ah!”
Eyes wide, you turn to see Jimin’s friend sprawled out next to you, one arm draped lazily over the back of your chair. His wavy dark hair peeks out from under a lime green beanie, and he’s swimming in an oversized long sleeve tucked into baggy pants, cinched tight at the waist with a Gucci belt.
“Jung Hoseok,” he gives you a nod. “Friends call me Hobi. You can call me whatever you like.” The way his wide smile pulls his mouth heart-shaped makes you giggle a little, slightly dazed by whatever the fuck is happening right now.
You hear Jimin sigh as he takes the open seat on your other side. “Please ignore Hoseok’s tendency to come on way too strong. If it makes you feel any better, he’s as gay as they come.”
Hoseok flicks his wrist just so. “Guilty as charged.”
“Oh, it’s okay,” you say with a shrug, your gaze flitting from Jimin to Hoseok and back again. “I have two gay roommates, so.”
Hoseok hums, clearly interested. “Gay together or gay separately?”
“Gay together.”
He narrows his eyes. “Open to a third?”
You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected question. “Uh, I’d have to ask.”
He looks like he’s going to say more, but Jimin interjects. “Hoseok— can we get a minute?”
Hoseok’s lips pull together, fish-like, and he nods as he gets to his feet. “Say no more. I’ll just, uh…” He fumbles, looking around for something to do, then crosses the room to take the open seat next to the sad pile of magazines. “…do a little light reading.” He picks up one at the top of the stack, holding it up for you both to witness. “Oh look, the queen died!”
You bite down on your bottom lip to suppress another laugh, but Jimin’s face is surprisingly serious when you look back at him. “I just want to say one thing,” he murmurs, voice low, “and then I’ll leave you alone.”
Nerves settle in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight. “Jimin,” you start, and when he opens his mouth to keep talking, you blurt out the first thing you can think of.
“I’m sorry,” you say in unison, and there’s a beat where you both blink, equally taken aback by the other’s apology. It’s quiet apart from the rumble of the laundry machines and the distinct sound of Hoseok smacking the magazine over his mouth, clearly more invested in your plot line.
You break the silence first. “Wait, why are you sorry?”
Jimin’s eyes drop down to the floor, one black boot toeing nervously at the tile. “I figured you were upset with me because I didn’t warn you.”
Your eyes widen in surprise when you play your initial conversation back. “Oh my god— when I said graduate studio art, you… you knew.”
He nods, somewhat remorseful. “I was kind of hoping that maybe it would be a different class, but. Yeah. I figured. I’m really sorry, I should’ve—”
“No, no,” you interrupt. “I get it. I’m not mad, obviously I didn’t even put it together until right now.” You pause for a second and can’t help but smile a little. “And, I mean, how do you just casually work that into your first conversation with someone? ‘Great talking to you, ready to see my dick in five minutes?’”
Jimin’s head tips back when he laughs, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. “Right.”
You can feel your own face grow hot as you realize what you’ve just said. “God, sorry, I didn’t mean to— clearly I don’t know how to handle this. That’s why I wanted to apologize, for avoiding you and being weird.” You twist your hands uncomfortably in your lap. “I’ve just never been in this situation before, and I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to talk given… the…” Every cell in your body screams at you not to say the word ‘dick’ again. “Yeah. I thought it might be easier to keep my distance. Keep it separate.”
Jimin’s eyes drift back up to find yours, and his casual beauty is so stunning, it’s enough to knock the air out of your lungs. He shrugs softly. “I mean, maybe it would be. But I don’t want to.”
“Great,” you manage a laugh, still breathless. “Because I nearly died on a Citibike the day I didn’t take the subway.”
He laughs, too. “Not gonna lie, I missed seeing you on the train.” You’re not expecting it when he extends a hand out. “Friends?”
You realize belatedly that he’s offering a handshake, and you gently take his hand in yours. His skin is soft and warm, a contrast to the cool metal of his rings that press into your palm as he squeezes.
“Friends,” you echo with a smile, squeezing back.
There’s a sudden thump and a cackle as Hoseok falls out of his chair with a peal of laughter. “You are so fucking weird, Jimin-ah!” he gasps from his spot on the floor. “Who shakes hands?!”
The two of them keep you more than entertained until the buzzers on their dryers sound a second apart from each other. You learn that Hoseok and Jimin are roommates, that they met as dance majors in their undergrad program, and that Hoseok now works as an adjunct instructor and freelance choreographer.
“Because some of us decided we wanted to actually make money instead of digging ourselves further into debt,” he explains with a sly grin and smack delivered to the back of Jimin’s head.
You watch as they meticulously fold, Hoseok regularly leaning over to redo Jimin’s work and chide him about wrinkles, and then they stack the clean laundry back into their bags and head for the exit.
“Bye, new friend!” Hoseok calls as he maneuvers the door open with his foot, and Jimin pauses at the threshold, the bell overhead tinkling gently.
“So… guess I’ll see you on the train?” he asks, like he’s still a little unsure, and your heartbeat flutters.
“Guess so.”
“Cool.” He gives you one last soft smile before he disappears after Hoseok. The bell sounds again when the door shuts behind him, as if to snap you back to reality.
The floating feeling in your stomach doesn’t quite dissipate even long after Jimin has left the laundromat. While you wait on your clothes, you flip to a blank page in your sketchbook and start on something new: the outline of a hand extended in mid-air, rings glinting like an offered promise.
~*~
The next week, Jimin is waiting for you on your morning subway ride, the dance bag that he usually keeps tucked between his legs set on the bench next to him. When he sees you step through the train doors at 51st, you watch him reach over to swing the bag down to its rightful place on the floor, freeing up the space. An open invitation.
You can’t help but feel a little shy as you sink down next to him and murmur your thanks. There’s something about being this close to him that just makes your mind go blank, puts you at a loss for words entirely.
To your surprise, he doesn’t try to strike up conversation either. Instead he plucks one fancy bluetooth earbud out of his ear, gives it a diplomatic swipe across the fabric of his joggers, then holds it up, pinched between his fingers in front of you.
Another invitation, you realize dumbly.
The corner of your mouth turns up as you pluck the bud out of his hand and press it into your own ear. The music that must have paused itself upon the earbud’s removal resumes, and your smile grows when Jimin quickly unlocks his phone to restart the song from the beginning.
An acoustic guitar and a light, pretty voice fill your ear, underscored by a gentle yet driving beat, not unlike the rumble of the train beneath your feet. It’s like the rest of the world fades away to nothing as you stare down at his sneakers next to your shoes, hyper-aware of the mere inch or two of space between you in this moment.
As if to prove your point, the train comes to a sharp stop, enough to make you slide a little on the bench and then you’re suddenly not just close but touching, all the way down, an unbroken line from shoulder to hip to knee.
When you look over in surprise, Jimin is already looking back at you. You swear you can feel warmth radiating out from him at every point where your bodies press together.
After another dazed moment, you come to your senses enough to scoot over, breaking the contact with an embarrassed laugh as you feel your face grow hot.
Your gaze drifts back down to the floor, only to snap up again at another brush of contact, this one not initiated by you or by the motion of the train. Instead, you realize Jimin has spread his legs an inch wider to purposefully touch his knee to yours again and leave it there. You blink softly as you look over at him, but he’s staring firmly out the window of the subway car now, smiling with just his eyes.
For the rest of the ride, you think of little else but Jimin’s knee pressed against yours and the pretty pink flush in his cheeks.
You stay in comfortable silence, music floating in your ears as you exit the train at Astor Place together, until you reach the studio, where you finally return the borrowed earbud. He smiles as he tucks them both back into the case, then pushes open the door and gestures for you to enter first.
Jimin shoots you a final look before your paths diverge, and you sink into your seat with a small, dreamy sigh. Your bliss is short-lived when you hear Taehyung’s voice over your shoulder.
“That was fast.”
You whip around to shoot him a look. “What was fast?”
He makes a face, like it’s obvious. “You’re already banging the model and it’s been, what, two weeks?”
Taehyung’s just close enough that you can lean forward and smack him on the arm, and he hisses in a way that has to be an exaggeration. Thankfully he seems to take the hint, and manages to actually keep his mouth shut as the professor commands everyone’s attention at the center of the room.
When Jimin emerges in the usual black satin, you try to keep your composure, but you can’t ignore the chill that dots up your spine when he lets the fabric fall to the floor.
Nevertheless, you sink into the routine of class, the thrill of Jimin’s naked body now equal parts familiar and exhilarating. The only difference is that today, when you’re dismissed, you make no effort to quickly pack up. You instead purposefully take your time, adding a few extra details to your last sketch before you finally start putting things away. Your gaze flickers up distractedly to see Jimin pulling his dressing gown back over his body as he moves to close the distance between you.
“Hi,” he says simply when he reaches your easel, and you smile.
“Hi.”
“Sorry, is, uh— is it okay that I talk to you, when I’m—” He gestures vaguely to his lower half with one hand, using the other to keep himself covered.
You swallow hard at the thin layer of fabric and everything you know lies beneath it. “Yeah, it’s okay,” you say, hating how breathless you sound.
“When are you done with classes today?”
It takes an extra second for you to remember your own schedule. “Uh, six.”
Jimin fidgets with the satin material in his hands, clearly a little uncomfortable. Or maybe nervous. “Would you… want to get dinner after? With me?”
Your stomach flutters as you nod. “Yeah, yes. I’d like that.”
~*~
When you emerge from your last class, you find Jimin waiting for you on Astor Place, and you’re not expecting it when he greets you with a single question: “Do you like sushi?” You answer affirmatively, and he nods over his shoulder. “Then let’s walk this way.”
You end up tucked into two seats at a place you’ve never been to before, where rolls and other plates of food zip past you on a steadily moving conveyor belt. Jimin shows you how to pop the plates out from their protective domes, and you gather a small feast of options on the table between you to share.
“So,” you start with a nervous smile, chopsticks hovering in midair. “Can I ask the obvious question?”
He quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”
“What made you decide to nude model?” The words alone send fresh waves of heat and nerves through you, sparkling in your chest. “Or have you done it before?”
“I haven’t,” Jimin confirms with a shake of his head, then he pops a piece of sushi in his mouth as if to buy himself time. He chews, bringing a hand up as he speaks with his mouth still half-full. “Do you want the real answer?”
You nod, and his adam’s apple jerks as he swallows. There’s a look on his face like he isn’t quite sure what to say, and then he exhales a weighty sigh. “I’ve struggled with my body for a really long time. Especially in undergrad.”
Your eyes widen slightly— you weren’t expecting such a serious response.
“Dance doesn’t typically have the best culture for that to begin with,” he continues, “and I’d spend literally all day staring at myself in a mirror, so I would just… pick myself apart. Always convinced I wasn’t good enough, that I needed to lose more weight, always.”
The thought of it makes your heart ache, but you let him talk.
“I’m through the worst of it now, so please don’t feel like you need to be worried. But I have some friends who’ve done this kind of thing before and it seemed like, I don’t know, a good challenge?” His brow creases, contemplative. “I really love art, so I thought maybe if I did it, I might be able to see my body in a new way, through the eyes of other people. Of artists.” He pauses, then nods, like he’s said his piece.
It takes you a second to respond. “That’s… beautiful, Jimin.”
He looks down, clearly a little uncomfortable. “Sorry if that was too heavy.”
“I can take it,” you say softly, and it’s enough to make him glance back up in surprise. “Thank you for telling me.”
A faint color floods his face. “Thanks for listening.”
You eat in a silence that’s oddly comfortable, and when you both reach for the same piece of sushi and end up knocking chopsticks together, he lets you have it, picking up the thread of conversation again as he smiles. “What got you into art?”
You make a face, chased by an unsure shrug. “Is it bad if I say it’s the only thing I feel like I’m good at?”
Jimin laughs a little. “I don’t know that I believe you.”
“I mean,” you lean back in your seat. “Maybe not the only thing, but I’ve just never been able to see myself doing anything else. I’m not cut out for the corporate life, as much as my parents wish I was. Art’s always been the thing that I go to in my free time. When I’m feeling so much that it’s overwhelming, or so numb that it’s like I can’t feel anything, the act of creating something just… brings me back to center again.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s an outlet, I guess.”
“Well, if it helps, you’re very good at it.”
“Thanks,” you say with a small smile. “But it’s not even about being good, at least not to me. Maybe it sounds weird, but I don’t really have any interest in being the best. It’s art, so it’s all subjective anyway. I just wanna make stuff.”
Jimin smirks as he adds another empty plate to the growing stack in front of you, tongue poking briefly at the inside of his cheek before he speaks. “I could stand to be more like you.”
“Your turn,” you shoot back. “Why dance?”
At this, he actually brings a hand up to cover his face, and his voice is muffled under his palm when he responds. “I can tell you exactly why, but it’s embarrassing.”
You shift a little in your chair to get a better look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed! It’s not like I—” you cut yourself off before you can very obviously finish the sentence with ‘haven’t seen your dick’, and you shove a piece of sushi in your mouth to shut yourself up, so fast you nearly choke.
Jimin laughs loudly into his hands, and then you’re laughing too, dropping your head down on the table to try and chew your food without asphyxiating.
“Okay, okay,” he gasps when he can finally manage to take a breath in. “I’ll tell you.”
He sets his chopsticks down, overly serious. “When I was little, I was obsessed with Titanic. Specifically the scene where they dance together, and Rose rises up on her toes in front of everyone.” There are practically stars in his eyes as he recounts the moment, and you can’t bear to cut him off. “I just thought she was so beautiful, and I wanted to be like that. Almost broke my toes trying to go en pointe barefoot like an idiot.”
You’re silent for a moment, and there’s a flicker of panic in Jimin’s face, like he’s worried he overshared. “I have to be honest,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Titanic.”
His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “What?!”
Already expecting the reaction, you grimace and nod. “I know, I know. Everyone gets mad at me for it. Go ahead.”
Jimin’s eyes flit from your face to the remaining piece of sushi on the plate between you, then back again. “I mean, we can go solve this problem right now, if you want.” He pauses, then admits with a giggle, “I have it on DVD.”
You shrug, trying to act casual despite the way your pulse has started to quicken. “They canceled my morning seminar for tomorrow, so I’m down.”
He leans forward to steal the last piece of sushi with a smug smile. “Then let’s get out of here.”
It’s a short train ride back to Jimin’s place, and you make it in the front door just in time to see Hoseok slipping out of what looks to be his bedroom. You barely process him as the same person— tonight his dark hair is swept off his forehead, and he’s in nice dress pants and a white button-down, unbuttoned just enough to display the delicate spread of his collarbone.
“Hi kids!” he calls in greeting, and you wave back as you kick your shoes off.
Hoseok crosses to grab a mirrored pair of aviators and his keys off the table by the front door. “Daddy’s going out. You two have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He pauses for a moment, like he’s waiting for a joke to land, then cracks a grin. “By which I obviously mean do whatever the fuck you want.”
As Hoseok pulls the door shut behind him, you follow Jimin into the living room, where you perch nervously on the edge of the couch while he disappears into the kitchen. “Do you like prosecco?” he asks, raising his voice slightly to be heard.
“Uh, I think so,” you say unsurely. “I don’t think I ever developed enough of a palette to have wine preferences.”
“White and sparkling?”
“Sounds good,” you respond, and then you hear the distinct noise of a cork popping before he returns with a bottle and two glasses in hand. He sets everything on the coffee table as he takes a seat next to you, then leans forward to fill both glasses nearly to the brim.
Jimin’s face flushes when you giggle softly at the pour. “Sorry— I like to drink. You don’t have to finish it all.” You shrug and take a healthy pull from your glass. It’s crisp and light, with little bubbles that fizz and pop all the way down.
“Hoseok calls me a lush,” he admits with a shy laugh as he picks up his own drink and turns to face you, sitting back against the arm of the couch. You shift to mirror him, curling your socked feet up under you. He takes a sip, then seems to think better of it, leaning forward to set his glass down on the table again. “I did want to tell you something. A couple of things, I guess.”
The sentence makes your stomach twist, and you try your best to ignore it. “What’s up?”
Jimin’s lips press together for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word whatever he’s about to say. “I’m not, like, trying to be presumptuous by telling you this but I just— I don’t want it to go unsaid and then come up later and be a whole big thing, so. I just want you to know that Hoseok is my ex.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but certainly not that.
“We dated freshman year of undergrad, for… maybe three months? It was the kind of thing where I knew I was bi in high school but was too scared to act on it, so when I moved to New York I just, like, dated the first gay person I met? Which was probably a little shitty of me. We quickly realized we work much better as friends, and it was a very mutual thing. No hard feelings.”
You nod slowly, trying to keep up. “And you’ve lived together since then?”
“No, no,” Jimin replies quickly, and he nearly grimaces as he continues. “At the end of last semester, I, uh… I got out of a pretty bad long-term relationship.” The way he says it makes your heart sink a little. “And she and I lived together, so Hoseok was extremely gracious and offered to take me in.”
He reaches for his glass of wine again, then pauses with it halfway to his mouth. “Ideally the number of exes I’d be living with would be zero, but. You know. This is definitely the better option, at least until I can figure out what comes next.”
A pause settles between you while he takes a long drink and you try to process all this new information. “I’m sorry about the breakup,” you say softly, and he shakes his head as he swallows.
“Don’t be. It was a very good thing. Long overdue.”
“Well,” you correct yourself, the corners of your mouth pulling up. “Then I’m sorry that it took so long.”
At this, he smiles back. “Me fuckin’ too.”
After one more sip, Jimin sets his wine back down on the coffee table, then rolls off the couch— surprisingly graceful— to retrieve Titanic from the small collection of movies lined up on the shelf beneath the TV.
“Ready?”
“This better have a happy ending,” you murmur over the edge of your wine glass. Jimin laughs so hard he nearly tips over.
He settles next to you again as the movie starts, painted pretty in the blue glow of the TV, and you try your best to watch the movie, but it’s hard to keep your eyes off him. Partway through you notice him grab a pillow off the back of the couch and hug both of his arms around it, curling up small.
Cute, you can’t help but think to yourself, and you can feel heat settle in your face as you try to refocus on the story.
When you reach the dancing scene Jimin sits up a little, lips parting slightly, that same starry look in his eyes as when he explained it initially. The mental image of a younger version of him equally enraptured by the moment nearly makes your chest cave in.
The movie goes on, and you’re draining the last of your second glass of wine when out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin’s eyes go wide. Jack and Rose are closely examining a rare diamond necklace, and you don’t understand what he could be reacting to until Kate Winslet delivers her next line.
“Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.”
Your eyes go just as wide as Jimin’s, and you let out a laugh of disbelief that’s nearly a scream. “Oh my fucking god, Park Jimin! You did this on purpose!”
“I swear, I didn’t! I didn’t even think about that part until right now!” He shakes his head desperately as he gasps for air, and he doubles over with his own laughter, rolling right off the couch, arms still clutched tightly around his pillow.
“I literally cannot believe this.” You dissolve into giggles as you sink to your knees on the floor beside him, close to tears.
It takes time for you both to recover, but Jimin eventually manages to pull himself back up to sitting, shoulders still shaking slightly with laughter. He lets the pillow drop to the floor and presses both of his palms down into it as he leans towards you. “But hey, maybe that’s why I like you.”
He’s so magnetic, so beautiful, you can’t help but lean in, too. “You like me?”
There’s a warm glow of color in his cheeks, and you’re not sure if you can blame it entirely on the wine. “I do.”
Your lingering smile slowly starts to soften, and now your heart feels like it might pound out of your chest. “So what, you’re Rose and I’m Jack?”
His gaze drops to your mouth, his voice barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “Uh-huh”. Imaginary violins swell in your head as you surge forward to close the distance and press your lips to his.
Jimin’s lips are soft and warm, and your head spins as you sit up on your knees and lean into the kiss. While his mouth moves gently against yours, his palms press to the small of your back, and the heat of his hands radiates through the thin fabric of your shirt. You wrap your arms over his shoulders, partially for balance and partially in an attempt to pull him closer to you.
He tilts his head, and you whimper against him when you feel his tongue trace delicately over your bottom lip. He returns a breathy noise back as he licks slowly into your mouth, like he’s taking his time, like he’s not in any rush.
Even though you can feel your arousal starting to build, heavy in your gut and slick between your thighs, you realize: you want him to take his time with you.
You’re surprised at the loss when he suddenly leans back, just enough to break the kiss, still keeping you held close. “Is it, um—” he clears his throat, then tries again. “I don’t… want to go any further. Than this. At least not tonight. Is that okay?”
Your eyes search his, and you’re a little breathless when you manage to get the words out. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m good with that. With whatever you want.”
“Okay.” You exhale a laugh when he reaches over to find the remote on the coffee table and pause the movie. “I want to keep kissing you, if that’s alright.”
“Yes, please,” you murmur against his lips.
Jimin shifts a little, and you follow his lead, letting him tip you backwards onto the floor, your arms still looped around his neck, one hand now tangling in his honey blonde hair. He drops a forearm down to the carpet beside you, his other hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist, knees bracketing your hips as he covers your body with his.
He alternates between sucking on your lower lip and gentle passes of his tongue into your mouth, the hand on your waist tracing a lazy path down to your hip and back up again. Something pulled tight inside you starts to slowly unwind, blooming open as you sink into the rhythm, into him.
It’s been such a long time since you’ve just kissed someone like this, without it feeling like part of a race to get naked. And you’ve never been kissed like this in your life— so soft, so attentive. It’s enough to make you dizzy, even with your back pressed flat to the floor.
You lose track of how much time passes as you trade open-mouthed kisses on Jimin’s living room carpet, until he finally pulls away again. Still in a daze, you shift the hand in his hair to gently cup his face, not quite able to believe that he’s really real.
“God,” Jimin breathes, laughing quietly to himself. “I really like you.”
You smile as you blink up at him. “I like you too, Jimin.”
Rolling over, he drops down onto the floor next to you with a blissed-out sigh. He stretches his arms overhead, spine arching like a cat, then lifts up again to glance back at you. “Do you want more wine? ‘Cause we’re only like halfway done. This movie is stupid long.”
“I could go for more,” you answer with a shrug, still smiling.
In one swift move, Jimin flips his legs over his head and effortlessly somersaults up to standing, and your eyes go wide. “How do you fucking do that?!”
“I’m a trained professional!” he calls over his shoulder as he sashays into the kitchen.
You giggle a little. “I would break every bone in my body.”
He’s humming prettily to himself, and you hear the sound of the fridge opening and closing, followed by the pop of another bottle being uncorked. You pull yourself back onto the couch as he rejoins you and pours fresh wine into both glasses, and a sudden curiosity urges you to ask a question. “Is Titanic your favorite movie?”
Jimin shakes his head, but says nothing, and the strange hesitant expression that flashes over his face just makes you that much more intrigued.
“Let’s hear it.”
His eyes flit over to you, then back to the wine glasses. “You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t!” you exclaim, lifting a hand when he scrunches up his nose, doubtful. “Promise.”
With a reluctant sigh, Jimin sets the bottle back down on the table, staring straight ahead as he admits, “It’s The Notebook.”
You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep your mouth in a straight line. At least you manage not to laugh. “I— wow. Really?”
He nods like the reaction is expected, picking up his wine glass and settling back against the couch cushions. “I don’t know, there’s just something about it. It’s comforting, to me.”
“You’re such a romantic,” you murmur, gently nudging his thigh with your foot until you coax a smile out of him.
“You know what?” Jimin’s voice is thoughtful now, more self-assured. “I am.” He takes a sip of his drink before he continues. “For a long time I didn’t want to be. Or thought that I couldn’t be. I used to always try to be so. I don’t know. Masculine, I guess. I think some of it had to do with denying my sexuality, but even once I got around to accepting that, there was still this part of me that would just never allow myself to be… soft.”
His gaze drops down to the wine in his glass, and you sit up, tucking your legs underneath you to scoot closer to him until you’re side by side. “I like you soft,” you say simply, and he looks over at you, still smiling.
“If we watch The Notebook I will cry.”
“That’s okay.” You lean into him to seek a kiss, made sweet from the wine. He hums a little against your lips before you pull back. “Same time next week?”
~*~
Just like that, you fall into a regular routine with Jimin: sharing his headphones on the morning train, sketching out the shape of his body in studio, then picking up takeout and wine to bring back to his place and split over a movie. As predicted, The Notebook does make him cry, and when you show him Kimi no Na wa the week after, hot tears stream down your face at the final scene, the way they always do.
He takes your head in his hands as the credits roll, his thumbs swiping at errant tears on your cheeks. You chase a sniffle with an embarrassed laugh. “Okay. We’re even now.”
On your fourth movie night, partway into Moulin Rouge, something emboldens you when you see Jimin reach for his usual couch pillow. You lean over and gently pry it out of his grip, then shift to tuck yourself into his side and curl your legs up in his lap instead.
“Better?”
“Mm-hmm”, he murmurs as he ducks down to nuzzle against your cheek. “You’re warm.”
These nights end the same way each time: you ride the train home with a wine-soaked buzz in your brain and flushed, kiss-bitten lips, your fingertips brushing over your own mouth at the memory of his.
Once a week quickly turns into more. The two of you coordinate laundromat afternoons where you listen to music together as you wait for your clothes. You usually end up drawing to pass the time, and sometimes Jimin dozes off, head tipping over onto your shoulder so gently that you can’t help but smile down at your sketchbook.
At his request, you help him dye his hair pink in his tiny apartment bathroom, and it somehow suits him just as well as honey blonde. You both get dizzy from laughter and cleaning product fumes as you desperately try to scrub the bubblegum stains out of the tile before Hoseok comes home.
When you finally introduce Jimin to your roommates, the four of you crammed all-too formally around the kitchen table over Yoongi’s cooking, the interaction feels like a cross between a job interview and a prom date meeting your parents. You choke on a piece of chicken that you nearly inhale when Namjoon offhandedly refers to Jimin as Subway Boy, and Yoongi smiles wide enough to show his gums as he gladly recounts your months-long crush in great detail while you bury your burning face in your arms.
But Jimin takes it in stride, laughs into your mouth as he kisses you over the sink while the two of you wash the dishes.
“Subway Boy, huh?”
“I will drown you,” you murmur as you pull away, brandishing the spray hose like a threat.
It’s easy and slow. This blossoming something, a nameless but undeniable spark, the calm comfort of Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers intertwined with yours, his head dropped down on your shoulder.
~*~
You dig your phone out of your pocket as you shoulder open the door to the dance building, pulling up the text from Jimin to double-check his practice room number. A train delay made you slightly later than your agreed-upon time, but you know the takeout bag of Indian food dangling over your wrist will easily earn you his forgiveness.
It doesn’t surprise you that he’s the only one left in the room when you find it, nor that he’s still reviewing the choreography with an expression of severe focus. You hover in the doorway, waiting for him to look up, but he’s entirely concentrated on his own reflection in the mirror.
His movements alternate between delicate and powerful, explosive and restrained, and you have to hold in an outright gasp when he launches his body into an aerial and lands it effortlessly. But then his feet falter in a split second of hesitation, and you can see his expression tighten, clearly frustrated.
“Fuck,” he mutters to himself as he rubs a hand over his face, and he doesn’t even try to keep going with the rest of the dance. You take the opportunity to step a few more paces into the room, and his eyes jump to you in the mirror.
“Hi,” you say softly, suddenly a little nervous to be intruding on the moment. The corner of Jimin’s mouth turns up, but his eyes seem far away, and you can tell he’s still raging at himself in his mind.
“Hi, sorry,” he sighs. “I just— can’t get this. It’s like my body isn’t doing what I tell it to.”
“You need food.” You try to say it gently as you cross the room, holding up the smiley-face adorned plastic takeout bag. “And perhaps the enigmatic charm of Rachel McAdams.”
This seems to shake him out of his thoughts, at least a little. “I do like her.” He steps close enough to slip his arms around your waist and pull your body flush against his. Sweat glistens on his collarbone in the dim practice room lighting. “But I like you more.”
You roll your eyes as you playfully smack a hand against his solid chest. “Stop lying.”
“‘M not,” he insists as he presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Rachel McAdams has never once brought me masala dosa.” You giggle despite yourself, and when his lips drop down to your neck, it’s enough to make your breath hitch.
A spark ignites in your chest that doesn’t go out, not on the subway ride back to your apartment, not through dinner and a movie, and certainly not once you’re most of the way through the second bottle of wine. As the credits start to roll, you waste no time, turning in Jimin’s lap so you can properly straddle him and take his face in your hands.
You trade decadent, easy kisses, and Jimin’s hands settle at the small of your back, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into your hips. A shiver rolls up your spine when he shifts a little and you realize you can feel a growing bulge through the fabric of his joggers, pressed firm against your thigh. He breathes a soft sound into your mouth as his tongue slides over yours, and you’re so overwhelmed, you barely register the sound of keys in the lock or the front door opening.
It’s Jimin who reacts first, turning his head to break the kiss as his cheeks flood with color, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Yoongi storm past, heading for his room. He lifts a hand up to his face to shield you from view as he goes.
“Don’t stop on my account!” Yoongi’s voice is dripping with derision. “By all means, continue fucking on our shared furniture!”
“We’re fully clothed, asshole!” you snap in response as Yoongi slams the bedroom door behind him, hard enough that it rattles in the frame.
When you look back down at Jimin, his face is twisted in an expression you take to be embarrassment. You drop your head down on his shoulder with a frustrated groan, the moment successfully killed.
“Do you…” you pause, turning your head to the side but continuing to ask your question into the fabric of his shirt. “We could go to my room, for more privacy, if you want?”
He hums his agreement, and when you peel yourself off the couch and head for your room, he follows. You spin back around to face him in the doorway, so fast he nearly knocks into you.
You brace your hands on the doorframe as you survey him. “We really don’t have to… do anything, if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”
Jimin nods, and you step aside to let him enter first, pulling the door closed behind you as you follow. He takes a few tentative steps into the room, and you walk past him to drop down onto the floor next to your bed, then pat the carpet to encourage him to join. There’s a flash of something over his face, and then he sinks down beside you. It’s only now that you realize how quiet he’s gotten.
“What is it?” you ask, suddenly a little nervous.
He stares down at the soles of his feet, pressed into each other, his knees tipped open like butterfly wings. “Does it make you feel bad? That we’re not—”
“No,” you answer immediately, and the honesty of it resonates in your chest.
“I know we’ve been hanging out for a while,” he continues, voice low. “And I do want to, you know. Hook up.”
“Jimin,” you lean forward to place both of your hands over one of his, settled atop his knee. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. When you want to, I want to. But I like everything we’ve been doing, too. It’s not like we’re not… intimate.”
His gaze flits up from the floor to meet yours. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you.”
You close your fingers around his hand, pulling it off his leg and up to your face so you can brush your lips over his palm.
“I don’t think that at all,” you murmur against his skin. “Promise.”
There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes when you look back up at him. “Okay. Sorry, I know it’s stupid. Like why do I need reassurance from you when I’m the one being difficult?”
You press your cheek into the warmth of his hand, toying lazily with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you so convinced that you’re difficult?”
Jimin huffs a small sigh. “This conversation has not gone this well in the past.” His eyes drop to the floor again, and after a moment’s pause, he keeps talking.
“My ex and I struggled a lot with…” he shakes his head, as if he’s trying not to say ‘everything’. “Sex. With me wanting it, with us having enough of it. I think it gave me a complex. I could be physically, you know, ready, but then as soon as she’d touch me I’d get in my head about everything and freak out and immediately want to stop.” He pauses, worrying at his bottom lip.
You pull his hand into your lap, your fingers delicately tracing over his in an attempt to provide some comfort. He shrugs when he starts to speak again. “And then, I don’t know, I guess she was just trying to share her side, but... she would make me feel so bad about it sometimes. Because I was genuinely trying so hard but it was like I was never good enough.” Another pause, and this time he sniffs a little. When his eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling, you can see he’s holding back tears. “It felt like she didn’t want me anymore, not if there wasn’t sex. So I left.”
“Jimin,” you breathe, and he flashes you a small grimace, clearly embarrassed by his own dramatics. With a grunt of effort, he turns sideways and flops backwards onto the floor of your room, and you scoot closer to him, your hand still playing with his.
His gaze roams over the ceiling as he sighs. “I don’t want you to think I was this perfect person and she was some awful bitch. She loved me a lot, and I’m sure she was struggling with not feeling wanted either, in her own way.”
Your voice is soft when you interject. “Two people can just be… incompatible. It doesn’t mean either of them is a bad person, or that it’s anyone’s fault. Sometimes things just don’t work, no matter how hard you try.”
Jimin’s mouth pulls up on one side as he shakes his head, eyes squinting. “How did you get to be so smart?”
You can’t help but laugh a little, lacing your fingers together with his in your lap. “Years of making terrible decisions.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze before you ask a question. “Did you struggle with this before, or just with her?”
His mouth twists slightly, unsure. “Yes and no? Both? My desire has always… fluctuated, I guess. Been a little shy.” A smile spreads over his face, and he hums a note. “Like, you know how people say love at first sight isn’t a thing? That it’s just lust?” You nod, prompting him to continue. “I think, at least for me, it’s the opposite. I can fall for somebody, and fall hard, like that.” He snaps loudly with his free hand. “But lust… I don’t know, it takes longer. It’s like a slow burn thing.”
You nod again, processing his words for a moment before you respond. “Well, I’m in no rush.”
Jimin sits up, voice thoughtful as he untangles his hand from yours, and it’s clear he’s getting more comfortable opening up to you. “Right after the breakup, I did a lot of research. I found this term, demisexual, that felt pretty accurate.” He shrugs. “But I don’t know. I mostly just think that... I am who I am. And the people who get it will get it. Like you.”
Before you can even speak, he sweeps an arm under your calves to drag you into his lap in one swift move, and you squeak a little in surprise as your world tilts.
“Demisexual. I like it,” you giggle as he guides your legs to wrap around his middle. His hands slide up your thighs, grabbing at your hips to tug you closer so he can trail kisses along your neck.
“Biromantic demisexual, technically,” he murmurs, head tipping up to find your mouth again.
You drape your arms over his shoulders and hum against his lips as he kisses you. “It suits you.”
Another soft noise escapes you when Jimin manages to maneuver to standing with you still in his arms. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and your legs around his waist, and his hands shift down to your ass to firmly hold you up. You squeeze your eyes shut automatically in fear of being dropped, then flutter them open again when you feel your back press into the soft cushion of your bedspread.
Jimin is hovering over you, forearms dropped down to the bed on either side of you. His eyes search yours for a moment, and then he leans in to kiss you again, so fiercely this time that it leaves you breathless. You can’t help but whimper as his tongue slips into your mouth.
When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to your collarbone with a groan. “It’s late,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over your neck. “I should go.”
You nod responsibly, despite how desperately you want him to stay.
You walk him out, and his sweet parting kiss leaves your heart hammering in your chest, enough that you slump against the frame with a sigh once you shut the door, your knees suddenly weak.
Light on your feet, you follow the faint noise of the TV to find Yoongi in the living room with Planet Earth on at a barely audible volume. He glances at you, his mouth a flat line, then reaches for the remote to turn the sound up a few notches. You drop down on the couch next to him, and it’s silent for a moment, save for the calm narration and the crinkling plastic of him tearing open a bag of Turtle Chips.
“How’d it go?” he finally asks, voice monotone.
“It’s good,” you answer softly. “We’re good.” You fold your legs up under yourself and sneak a look at Yoongi out of the corner of your eye. You’re still a little pissed, but you also want advice. Damn him for knowing everything.
“Have you heard the term ‘demisexual’ before?”
Yoongi nods, still chewing as he replies. “Yeah. Like asexual spectrum, right?”
You shrug. “I guess. It’s new to me.”
He shoves a few more chips in his mouth before he continues. “Is that what your Subway Boy is?”
“I think so, yeah.”
There’s a long pause while you watch penguins march across the screen, and you think that might be the end of it. Then Yoongi clears his throat. “You know, I’m somewhere in there too. Not completely asexual, but definitely not… not.”
Your eyes widen. “Really?”
Yoongi snorts. “Don’t act so shocked. These walls aren’t that thick.”
“Is Joon?”
He smirks, like you’ve just told a joke. “Decidedly not.”
“Oh.” You blink, trying to process. “How do you deal with it?”
Yoongi makes a face, like he’s never thought about it before. “We just communicate, I guess. Be respectful even when we don’t necessarily understand. And, like, Namjoon watches porn, and surprisingly reads quite a bit of erotica—”
“Okay, okay,” you cut him off. “I don’t need all the details.”
He huffs a dry laugh at your discomfort. “It’s not always easy, sometimes it’s frustrating for both of us. But we make it work. We love each other.”
You chew a little at the inside of your cheek, and then you can’t hold in the question any longer. “Is it weird that the idea doesn’t bother me? Jimin said it was a huge issue with his ex. Like, does that make me on the… spectrum?”
Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, you might be? But not necessarily? I don’t know, sex matters different amounts to everyone. Some people don’t mind not having it that often. You don’t have to put a label on it unless you want to, you know?”
“Yeah, makes sense.” You nod slowly as you digest the idea. “Thanks, Yoongi. I appreciate the education.”
His only answer at first is a noncommittal hum, and then he points a finger at the few inches of wine in the bottle you left sitting on the coffee table. “Gonna finish that?”
“It’s all yours,” you say. “Consider it atonement for going to first base on the couch.”
Yoongi grabs the bottle by the neck and immediately drains it. “Apology accepted,” he grunts as he sets it back down. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He extends his bag of chips in your direction and you happily reach in for the biggest handful you can manage.
~*~
During your next movie night, Jimin can’t keep his hands to himself.
They pet up your thighs, your legs draped over his, then slide up to your hips, fingertips tracing patterns over the waistband of your leggings and toying at the hem of your shirt.
His mouth has a similar problem: he leans in to press kisses along the line of your jaw, then down the slope of your neck, sucking delicately at the spot that makes your nipples tighten and sends a shiver through you.
“You’re missing the movie,” you remark, raking a hand through his peachy-pink hair, shadowed at the roots where his natural color has started to grow in. He’s typically good about keeping himself restrained until the credits roll, but you’re barely halfway through Pride & Prejudice, haven’t even cracked a second bottle yet.
“Fuck the movie,” he growls against your skin, and you bite back a whimper when his teeth scrape over your neck. You can’t ignore the way your core is starting to ache from his insistent mouth.
His lips find yours again, and you giggle softly into him. “You’re in a mood.”
“Just been thinking about you,” he murmurs between kisses. It surprises you a little when he suddenly pulls back so he can look you in the eyes. “Should we— do you want to go to my room?”
The air hangs still and heavy between you, and you worry at your bottom lip for a moment. “Are you sure?” When he nods, dark brown eyes blinking up at you, your mouth turns up at the corner. “I’d rather we not traumatize any more roommates if we can help it.”
You lean over to pause the movie before sliding off his lap and getting to your feet, and then you reach your hands out for his and pull him up next to you. “Come on.”
Jimin’s bedroom is so perfectly him that it relaxes you, feather-soft comfort every time you step inside. His bed isn’t made, because it never is, the thick white duvet pushed down on one side where he stumbled out from beneath it this morning. He keeps it dark, blackout curtains drawn to support his night owl lifestyle, and the room is bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights he’s strung up along the ceiling. A myriad of posters and art prints and polaroids are taped to the walls, some beautiful, others sentimental— he even managed to coax you into tearing a few of his favorites out of your sketchbook. You still don’t think they’re anything special, but nevertheless, it makes your heart squeeze in your chest to see them on display with everything else. Like they belong here in this room, like you do too.
The door clicks as it shuts behind him, and then his mouth is on yours again, kissing you dizzy while he backs you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He guides you to lay down, and his hand slips beneath you to drag you up the bed with him as he crawls over you.
His hands come up to tug at your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he breathes.
You nod, staring up at him and not quite able to believe any of this is real. “You can do anything you want to me.” With a smile, he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you sit up a little so he can pull it the rest of the way off.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Jimin murmurs against your skin as he kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, then down between the valley of your breasts. His hands slip down to palm at your tits, squeezing gently, and he mouths at the stiff peaks of your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette. You untangle briefly, only for as long as it takes to get the lacy thing off of you entirely and tossed over the edge of the bed.
You shiver a little as the air hits your bare skin, and then the warmth of his body covers you again, and he ducks down to close his mouth over your nipple and suck. The plush softness of his lips and the firm suction combined are enough to make your eyes roll back, and your spine arches up beneath him when he drags his tongue in a circle over the sensitive bud.
“Shit,” you groan. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, and it feels like your only tether to reality.
It’s easy to believe it’s the waiting, the anticipation of this moment, that makes every little touch light you up like a live wire now. But something tells you it will always feel like this.
While his lips shift to your other breast, one hand slides down to cup your clothed pussy, rubbing gentle friction into your center. You circle your hips to press yourself against the flat of his palm, sighing at the brush of indirect contact and the heat that thrums through you from the pressure on your clit.
You feel Jimin’s weight shift on the mattress as he kneels next to you, and his lips find yours again at the same time his hand slips into your leggings, two fingers tracing the seam of your panties to make you whine softly. If he couldn’t tell before, he must be able to now: how wet you are, enough to drench the lacy fabric so it clings to your cunt, dripping arousal to show how badly you want him.
He’s surprisingly forceful when he tugs the damp fabric to the side, but so gentle again as he slips one finger and then a second into your tight heat. Your mouth drops open as he curls them up to rub at your g-spot, stroking into you over and over while your cunt squeezes tight around him.
Your head drops back on the pillow and you groan. “Oh, fuck, Jimin.”
You can hear how soaked your pussy is as he pumps into you, and the wet squelch of his fingers working inside you would make you shy if it didn’t feel so overwhelmingly perfect. The pleasure edges your breathing with soft sounds, and Jimin swallows them when he kisses you again.
He shifts slightly for a better angle and then you feel the heel of his palm grind down against your clit. It’s enough to make your hips buck up under him with every press of his hand, his insistent touch shooting sparks of arousal through you.
It’s been so long since anyone has touched you, and you’ve wanted this with him so badly for so long, but even still, it surprises you how quickly he can bring you to the edge.
“Jimin,” you break the kiss to gasp against his mouth, unable to believe how close you already are. Close enough that all you can do is cling, to any part of him you can reach: his hair, his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt. “Jimin, Jimin, fuck.”
“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” he groans, and he says the next part softer, like it’s just for him. “My girl looks so pretty on my fingers.”
The pace of his movements doesn’t falter, nor does the heavy weight of his palm as he ducks down to capture your nipple in his mouth again. Your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in to the last knuckle with each thrust of his hand, and your nails dig desperately into his forearm as you feel your orgasm crest.
His teeth graze lightly over the tight bud of your breast, and it’s enough. With a final whine, the arousal that’s been coiling inside you snaps, and your back arches up off the bed as you come hard on his fingers.
Jimin’s fingers keep stroking you through it, the flat of his palm rubbing rough circles against your clit again and again and again and it feels like you might never stop coming. You moan as it rolls over you, wave after wave, until his touch is so overwhelming that you have to pull your trembling thighs together, and he finally relents.
Spent, your body sinks heavy into the bed, and you can’t help the dazed giggle that flutters out as afterglow starts to bloom behind your ribs.
Jimin hovers over you, dropped down onto his forearms, full lips pressing indiscriminately to your flushed skin, all over. You snake a hand through his hair to pull his mouth up to yours, and he kisses you slow and deep.
When you break apart, you tip your forehead to his. “Can I touch you?” you ask, still a little breathless.
“Please,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours again before he pulls away with a small, embarrassed smile. “My pants hurt.”
You sit up on your knees and he does too, and you bite down on your lip as you reach for the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it over his head, and then there he is, beautiful as ever. Familiar, yet somehow all new.
Jimin shivers and whines when your hands run across the bare skin of his chest, teasing over his soft brown nipples before starting to trace a path down to his stomach. You lean in to kiss him, and he outright groans into your mouth when your fingertips tease along the band of his boxers that peeks out over his jeans. You gently bring your palms to his hips to guide him, and he’s pliant for you, shifting backwards at your suggestion until he’s seated, leaned back against the headboard.
Your hands shake slightly as you unbutton and push down his jeans, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh of relief. He’s so hard, you can understand why the tight denim must have been painful: his dick is still straining even now, a thick outline pressed into the fabric of his underwear, and there’s a dark patch that clings to his tip where he’s started to leak precum.
You tug his boxers down with enough force that his length smacks heavy against his stomach, and he makes a strangled noise in response, eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerk violently beneath you, and your jaw goes slack as you watch his cock twitch, and keep twitching, until a steady pool of milky gloss has leaked out over his stomach.
“Shit,” Jimin hisses as he comes practically untouched, and he gasps for air to try to speak. “Fuck fuck fuck— ‘msorry, thought I could—”
You can see him starting to spiral, can feel the panic starting to heat up inside his body, so you take his face in both of your hands. “Jimin.”
“This has never happened before— fuck, I don’t— this is so—”
“Jimin.” When you say his name again, firmer this time, he goes quiet, his eyes still shut tight. “Look at me,” you murmur, and he does, lashes slow-blinking open. “It’s okay. Okay?” Your gaze searches his, trying to convince him. “I like everything about you. Everything you do. You’re perfect.”
Clearly trying to steady his breathing, his chest shudders with effort, and you gently circle your thumb at the hinge of his jaw. He makes a soft noise as his eyelids drop shut again, his cheek pressing into your hand, letting you carry a little bit more of his weight.
It’s quiet for a moment, and his voice is unsure when he speaks. “There’s tissues… in the—”
“Can I take care of it?” you interrupt to ask, your voice low. His eyes blink open again to look at you, and a dark glint flickers there as the unsaid meaning of your question washes over him.
“Y-yeah.”
You take your time moving down the bed to settle between Jimin’s thighs, and you stare up at him, waiting for any indication that he wants you to stop or doesn’t feel comfortable. But he just swallows hard, his adam’s apple jerking in his throat, and nods.
Leaning down, you drag your tongue in steady, long strokes over the flat plane of his stomach to lick the mess up.
As you get the last of it, you’re surprised to feel his hand cup the back of your head. You don’t resist when he pulls you up for a kiss, then licks into your mouth to taste himself, the salt and slick of his cum sliding between your tongues.
When you break apart to swallow, Jimin’s voice is a whisper. “That okay?”
You nod, unable to bite back your smile. “You’re… really fucking hot.”
He smirks as he finds your lips again. “So are you.” The next kiss is sweeter, and then he pulls back. “If you want, we can keep— or I can go down— I don’t want—” He can’t finish any of his half-started thoughts, and you smile, lovingly running your palms over his thighs, back and forth.
You want him so badly, more than anything, but you try to breathe through it. You can see the wheels spinning in his head, that self-critical flash in his eyes, the same furrow in his brow that creases when he gets frustrated with himself.
“I’m not saying no because I don’t want you,” you preface. “But I just don’t want you to feel stressed or get in your head about it. I want it to feel good, and I’m in no rush. Next time, okay?”
His lips are still a little pouted, but he nods, and you lean in to sling your arms around his neck. “C’mere.”
You tug him down to the mattress, and your half-naked bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, hands tracing gentle patterns over bare skin as you kiss.
When you eventually end up with your cheek pressed to his chest, you listen to the sound of his heartbeat settling, his breathing evening out. You speak softly in the quiet of his room. “My roommate’s doing an exhibition on Friday. Will you come with me? I’ve been promised there will be free booze.”
Jimin tightens his grip on your waist, his voice slurring like he’s half-asleep. “Mmm, my favorite person and my favorite thing.” There’s a pause, and he sighs. “That sounded bad. Promise I'm not an alcoholic.”
“I know,” you laugh, dragging your lips over his collarbone, then grunting a little noise of frustration as reality starts to set in. “I have class early tomorrow. I should go before I fall asleep here.”
He whines his disapproval, but when you glance up you can see the fight going out of him, his eyelids starting to flutter closed. You lean up for one, two, three more kisses before you force yourself out of bed to find your bra and your shirt. “I’ll see you Friday?”
“Mmkay.” He inhales deep, like he’s coming up for air. “Text me when you make it home safe?”
“I will,” you promise, and you do.
~*~
Namjoon’s exhibition is laughably fancy for what really just ends up being a room full of gay, overdressed art students. The ridiculous finger foods disappear in minutes— all the broke grad school kids came hungry— but you and Jimin gladly hover around the table of champagne flutes instead, giggles sparkling between you like the bubbles that fizz in your glasses.
You’ve been trying to drag him away to actually take in the art, but he keeps necking his drinks. “You’re supposed to sip it, you demon!” you chide with a laugh as he does it again, picking up a fresh glass and throwing all of it back in one gulp.
He smirks slightly as he shakes his head. “It’s more fun this way. Try it.”
You roll your eyes, hiding the grin that threatens to stretch over your face in the rim of your drink before following suit. He’s not wrong: a rush of warmth creeps up your neck as you swallow, the world softening around you, and it’s made sweeter by the kiss Jimin leans in for. When he pulls back you can see his face is flushing, too.
“Come on, Mr. Park,” you murmur, your free hand intertwining with his as you set the empty glass down and retrieve another. “Take me on a tour.”
Jimin grabs another flute too and then you’re off, and he actually manages to drink this one slowly as you weave through the gallery, the click of your footsteps underscoring the gentle classical music that floats through the speakers. You lean into Jimin in comfortable silence as you take in each art piece, sipping delicately at your champagne, occasionally hooking your chin over his shoulder just for the thrill of being close to him.
“These are all beautiful,” he hums appreciatively as you stand in front of a wide, impressionist landscape, swirls of color that shift into shapes when you step far enough away, but dissolve into unidentifiable blobs of thick-textured paint up close. “Namjoon did a really good job curating.”
“Mm-hmm,” you nod, but your eyes are on Jimin and everything else pales in comparison. He’s dressed up for the occasion, tight black jeans and a white button-down with a leather jacket thrown on over top. His hair is styled, pretty pink strands pushed back off his forehead, and his asymmetrical silver earrings glimmer in the low lighting. The result is so stunning you’ve had a hard time focusing on anything but him tonight.
A thought that’s been running through your mind all evening resurfaces again as you swallow the last of your glass of champagne.
“They should put you in a gallery.” You didn’t necessarily plan to say the thought out loud, but say it you do. Jimin quirks an eyebrow and you decide to double down. “But not here. Somewhere better.”
“The Met?” he guesses, teasing.
“The Louvre,” you counter, and he outright laughs, his head tipping back.
“The Louvre?!”
“You heard me,” you giggle, your body pressed against his side. “You’re art.”
Releasing your hand, he wraps his free arm around you to pull you into his chest, the smile still lingering over his face. “And you,” he murmurs, “are drunk.”
“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” Your voice is muffled slightly as you speak into his collarbone.
You tilt your head up for a kiss, and it seems to surprise both of you how quickly the atmosphere changes. It might be the more-than-several glasses of champagne to blame, or the fact that you’ve found yourselves in a corner, hidden away from the rest of the exhibition’s patrons, but the soft spark that ignites between you quickly grows into a licking flame at the touch of your lips. It’s heat-blush passion as your mouths move against each other, and you’re trying to keep quiet despite the weight of it, heavy in your core, this shared, unspoken need.
“Jimin,” you breathe into him, overwhelmed by all that he is.
He shifts, nosing at your jawline as he speaks into your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere?”
The suggestion makes you a little unsteady on your feet, your high heels threatening to topple over, and he catches you with a hand to your waist when you falter. “Like, somewhere here?”
“Too far to go all the way home,” he purrs, the hand on your body squeezing gently. “And you look too good.”
Your head swims as he kisses you again, and he pries the empty glass out of your hand, setting it down on the nearest table with his. A hand returns to the small of your back, then slips lower, cupping your ass through the fabric of your black dress. His mouth paints a smile over yours, and you grab his wrist. “Follow me.”
Stumbling your way through the gallery, trading laughs under your breath like confidants and kisses when no one is looking, you lead him back to the coat check closet at the front, thankfully left vacant by whichever freshman had been roped in to the thankless job. With a final glance over your shoulder to make sure you’re unseen, you push the door open and tug Jimin inside after you.
As soon as the coat check door closes again, he has you pressed against it, his tongue slipping hungrily into your mouth. His hands skirt up the curve of your hips as he slots a thigh between your legs, firmly pushing up the hem of your dress to grind into your clothed center.
You both freeze where you are at the sound of a moan, one that very distinctly does not come from either of you.
Jimin tries and fails to suppress a nervous laugh. Unable to make out anything in the dark, you reach your hand out, smacking aimlessly at the wall next to you until you find a lightswitch and flip it on.
“What the fu—” The man who made the noise in question flings a hand over his face at the sudden intrusive wash of fluorescents, but you’d know him from his voice alone. Kim Taehyung still has one hand gripped tight to the metal bar of a coat rack, back arched and legs spread for whoever his latest victim is, with his pants and boxers shoved down to his ankles.
Before your alcohol-soaked brain can put together a smug comment about how Taehyung needs to get his ass eaten at home like a normal human, Jimin’s voice surprises you.
“Hobi?”
You clap a hand over your mouth as you realize the man on his knees, pulling his tongue off Taehyung’s rim with a look of utter confusion, is none other than Jung Hoseok. His eyes are wide as dinner plates as his head snaps up to take the two of you in.
“Jimin?!”
“Oh my god.” You start to laugh so hard your knees buckle, and Jimin has to wrap his arms around you to keep you upright. “How the fuck did you two even meet?!”
“Do we really need to have this discussion now?!” Taehyung growls, and it only makes you laugh harder.
“Come on, come on—” Jimin is collapsing into giggles himself as he fumbles for the handle behind you. He simultaneously attempts to pull you off the door so he can swing it open. “Let’s leave them to it.”
You smack the lights off again as you make your escape, Jimin’s grip still hugging tight around your waist as you laugh until your lungs nearly give out. The lobby is thankfully empty, all the attendees pressed deeper into the gallery, so you loop your arms over his shoulders as you recover and pull his mouth back down to yours, unable to stop yourself.
“Let me take you home,” you manage to say in the space between kisses. Your tongue feels heavy when you speak; his is champagne-sweet. “Joon and Yoongi will be here for a while.”
Jimin’s agreement hums, buzzing on your lips. “Wanna take the train?”
You’re grateful the subway car you stumble into is empty, because the pull of Jimin’s mouth is too magnetic to be ignored. You don’t think you could stop kissing him if you tried.
It’s practically a race back to your apartment once you emerge from the station, partially to get out of the cold night air, though you hardly feel it with Jimin’s jacket slung over your shoulders and your body flushed hot from alcohol and desire. As you climb the four flights to your walk-up, both of you giggling and gripping tight to the banister, the spiral of the stairs sends your world spinning. You feel dizzy-drunk on wine and laughter and lust alike, and maybe something more. Something you don’t have words for yet.
It takes you three tries to get your keys in the door, and when you finally manage to get it open, you kick your shoes off and make a beeline for your bedroom, dragging Jimin along after you, hand-in-hand. Thankfully he has the foresight to remember to shut the door behind you, because all you can think about is him: the rich musk of his cologne, the taste of his tongue, the warm blush of his skin under your palms.
The leather jacket hits the floor and you step over it, walking backwards as he licks into your open mouth, shameless.
You nearly fall over when you bump up against the bed and almost lose your balance, and then you reach for the buttons of his shirt at the same time he goes for your dress. The two of you laugh your frustrations against each other as your arms tangle and get in the way.
“You first!” you insist, and he relents, lets you unbutton the starched white fabric of his button-down so he can shrug out of it. Your fingers move to undo his belt and then he takes over, impressively coordinated enough to be able to kiss you while kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, stripped down now to his black boxer-briefs. He pulls your dress up over your head, and then your barely-clothed bodies press together all the way down, the ache in your core now an undeniable throb.
Jimin takes your face in his hands and kisses you again, and you slip one hand between your hips and his to palm at him, earning an appreciative hiss. You rub at him over the front of his briefs, teasing, then dip your touch beneath his waistband.
His cock hangs heavy between his legs, but he’s not quite hard yet, maybe from the cold, so you take him in your hand and start to pump. For fear of too much dry friction you try to go slow, and he groans into your mouth as you twist your wrist a little to circle your thumb over his frenulum.
He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel the heat of his embarrassment bloom against your skin. “Sorry— gimme a second.”
Tilting your head, you press a kiss to his temple. “Don’t apologize. D’you wanna try laying down?”
When he nods, you release your grip on him so he can sink down onto the bed, crawling backwards up to the pillows. Knelt down on the mattress, you settle in the space he makes for you, thighs spread and knees tipped open, and you push his briefs down enough to free all of him.
You hook your thumb and index finger under the head of his dick to pull it flush against his stomach, allowing you better access to drag your tongue in little kitten licks up his shaft. Your other hand moves to massage gently at his balls as you take his tip into your mouth and let it bulge against your cheek, let him slip against the soft wall there to make saliva pool on your tongue, sloppy on purpose.
It’s still not working, not really, and when your gaze flits up to him again, Jimin’s face is pulled into a grimace. Heat rushes up your neck, and you pull your mouth off him and immediately right yourself. You shift backwards a little on your knees as your pulse starts to race. Does he not want this? Did you misread some sign, or push him too far?
Jimin must be able to read the look in your eyes, because he groans as he presses his face into his hands. “It’s not you. Think I drank too much, I don’t— i-it feels good, I—it just—”
You’re not exactly sober yourself. The receding white noise of panic makes it hard to think, hard to know what to say. “I-it’s okay. It’s okay.”
“I just—” he tries again. “I really want to do this, I don’t know why— it’s fucking embarrassing.” The blankets muffle the sound as his palms smack flat against the bed on either side of him in clear frustration. You move out from between his legs, still trying to catch up, and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he pulls his boxer-briefs back over himself.
“Jimin,” you murmur. The bed creaks when you shift to lay next to him, to tuck into his side, and you reach up to run a hand through his hair, a little sticky with the product holding it in place. An anxious, thrumming quiet settles over both of you as his eyes flutter closed.
The words finally come to you in the silence; you can only hope they’ll reach him. “I had so much fun with you tonight. That doesn’t go away.” The crease between his brows softens a little, so you keep talking. “It’s not your only chance, okay? I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here.” Your free hand slips into his on the bed next to you. “And I want you with me.”
He sniffs a little, so quiet you nearly miss it, then turns in towards you. Your noses bump together and your mouth turns up at the corners as you continue. “It’s late, and I… can’t promise there isn’t more ass-eating waiting for you at home. Do you want to sleep here?”
Jimin’s eyes blink open, glassy, and then he nods.
“Come on,” you say softly, sitting up and tugging on your still-joined hands. “How about we shower?”
In the bathroom, you run the water scalding hot, and when you both step in you nudge Jimin forward to stand under it first, then press against him from behind. Your hands wrap around his waist to slide over his stomach as you tilt up to reach his ear when you speak. “This okay?”
He nods, hums a little, and you move your hands up over the whole of his body. Hard lines and soft curves, a work of art you know so well, you can see it when you close your eyes as you map his skin with your fingertips. You nuzzle into the place where his neck and shoulder meet, then press a kiss there. “I’m right here,” you say again, not even sure if he hears you.
But his head turns, and you feel one of his hands slide over yours on his chest. “Will you wash my hair?” he asks softly, and you tip forward to bring your mouth to his, convinced you’d do anything he asked of you.
It’s intimate, the way you take your time running shampoo and then conditioner through his silky pink strands, dragging your nails over his scalp and applying gentle pressure that makes him sigh prettily in response. Jimin steps further under the showerhead both times to rinse the product out, and if a few tears slip down his cheeks, they’re lost to the spray of the water where you can’t tell the difference.
But he does manage the ghost of a smile when you reach to grab your washcloth and he gets there first. “Your turn.”
Once your body and then his are scrubbed and rinsed clean, you shut the water off and grab thick, fluffy towels that you dry off and wrap up in. In the dim light of your room, you pull on an oversized t-shirt and boyshorts, then dig out a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. They’re fairly baggy on you, but they fit Jimin perfectly, and the image of him in something of yours makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest.
You run two glasses under the kitchen tap that you set out to ward off any potential hangovers, and you even manage to find a spare toothbrush for him to use. When he emerges from the bathroom again, still absentmindedly toweling his damp hair, you’re sitting on the bed with your feet tucked under you.
“Do you want to watch something?” you offer gently.
He shakes his head as he stifles a yawn. “‘Mtired. Think I just wanna sleep.”
You pat the bedspread next to you, an invitation. “Then let’s sleep.”
Under the covers, you curl up together, soft and warm from the shower, scented lavender and mint from your body wash and toothpaste. Jimin’s legs tangle with yours, an arm wrapping over your waist, and you press your cheek against the hard plane of his chest with a small sigh.
You listen as his breathing slows, each inhale a little further apart from the last, to the point where you think he’s fallen asleep. You feel yourself start to follow after him, and the last thing you hear before you’re dragged all the way down is Jimin inhaling deep, then mumbling softly into your hair. “Thank you. For everything.”
~*~
Light streams in between the cracks of the window blinds, painting warm shapes over your eyelids that gently wake you. You sigh and stretch as you slowly come all the way up from dreaming, your eyes still heavy-lidded. When you roll over with a soft grunt, you find Jimin fast asleep there, his face smushed into the pillow, one arm slung lazily over you.
The corner of your mouth pulls up, and you have to fight the urge to dot kisses all over his face, deciding to let him sleep instead. It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to roll out from under his arm without waking him and slip quietly out of bed, easing the bedroom door closed behind you.
It’s early, and the apartment is still, washed in morning gleam and the gentle hum of New York City traffic on the streets outside.
You stumble into the kitchen with a stifled yawn, swinging open the fridge and leaning down to retrieve a pack of bacon and the half-empty carton of eggs. Humming quietly to yourself, you dig a pan out and set it on the stove to heat.
Arms slide around your waist, making you jump a little before you melt back as Jimin nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You can feel his body through your t-shirt, still warm from sleep and bedsheets he must’ve only just crawled out from under.
Not quite graceful, you turn in his arms and loop yours around his neck to seek a kiss. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice hoarse on your first spoken words of the day. “How are you feeling?”
Jimin’s mouth is still slurred from waking up when he answers. “‘Mgood. You look good.” His gaze roams down your body and back up, as if to take in your oversized shirt, your bare legs, your hair still messy from sleep. “So cute like this.”
You scrunch your nose slightly as you smile up at him. “Want breakfast?”
A heat starts to pool between your legs as his hands slide further down your back. He pushes your shirt up so he can grip your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear the only thing separating his skin from yours.
“In a bit.”
You can’t help but squeak when, in one swift move, he bends his knees and lifts you off the ground. Impulsively, your legs spread to wrap over his hips, thighs squeezing tight to hold on, and your arms cling around his neck as laughter flutters in your chest. Before you can act on the urge to bury your face in his shoulder, his mouth finds yours again, and the way he kisses you, hungry and deep, makes nothing else in the world matter.
He carries you back to bed, nudging open the door he didn’t quite close all the way with his shoulder, then using a foot to push it shut again. Your muscles unclench when he sits down with you in his lap, and you unwrap your legs from around him, your knees sinking soft into the bed.
You can’t quite shake the thoughts of the night before. “Jimin,” you start, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t—”
“Want to,” his voice is low, ragged edges from sleep. “Doing it ‘cause I want to. I want you. Do you want me?”
You nod, leaning back to look at him, your arms still twined over his neck. “More than anything.”
There’s no rush this time as he shifts backwards up the bed and you crawl over him to settle into his lap again. No tension that’s been building all night, no alcohol buzzing in your systems, no urgency. Just your bodies, half-dressed in sleep clothes, intertwining like they were made to fit together.
Your kisses are sweet and unhurried as Jimin’s hands slip beneath your oversized t-shirt, delicate fingers tracing up your waist. He cups your breasts in his palms, squeezing gently as he licks into your mouth. When he rolls a nipple between his fingers, your breath hitches, sparks of arousal shooting all the way down to your toes. A weight blossoms in your core as you reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, and you shiver a little in the morning air.
“Beautiful,” Jimin says quietly, reverently, and you take his face in your hands.
“You are too,” you murmur, your eyes searching his. “So beautiful.” Your hands slip down his body as he kisses you again, your fingertips outlining the contours of his chest, gently brushing over his nipples to make him groan into your mouth.
Jimin’s hands come to rest at the curve of your hips as your mouths move together, where he teases his touch under the band of your boyshorts. He pulls back just far enough to ask, “Can I take these off?” and you nod.
You shimmy the thin fabric down your thighs, dropping onto your ass with a laugh so he can tug them the rest of the way off, one ankle at a time. As you sit up on your knees again, his hands come to grip your thighs, and he shifts lower on the bed until he’s laying flat on his back next to you.
“Wanna eat you out,” he murmurs softly.
“Yeah?” You bite down on a small smile.
He hums. “Can I— will you please, uh… sit on my face?”
You can’t help but giggle. No one has ever asked so politely. “Yeah, okay.”
It’s slow, languid, the way his full lips close delicately around your clit when you settle over him, how he alternates with lazy passes of his tongue, not unlike the way he kisses you. The pleasure pulls your spine arched and your head tips back, palms pressing flat to the bed beneath you.
“Jimin,” you gasp, “baby, feels so fucking good.”
His tongue is heavy as it drags down your folds, thick when he sinks it into your cunt to taste the slick arousal that pours out of you and drips down his chin. Your hips rock into his mouth, his nose inadvertently bumping against your clit as he licks you like he doesn’t want to waste a drop. Your walls cling tight, crammed up full of him.
With a slurp and a gasp for breath, he withdraws, his tongue made hot from being buried inside of you, trailing wet warmth as he licks back up your pussy to lap at your clit again. Your arms threaten to give out when he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, lips pulsing an insistent rhythm that makes you moan and writhe above him.
“Jimin, Jimin.” The pleasure is decadent, thick, wine and honey, made sweeter by the beautiful boy pressed between your thighs. Emotion bubbles up inside of you to twist with your pleasure, and you tighten a hand in his rose-blush hair as you moan again, nearly a sob this time, a dam breaking.
Jimin hums against you, fingertips digging into the soft skin of your thighs, like he can tell you’re at the edge without you having to say a word, and it’s enough to send you tumbling over it.
“Oh fuck baby, yes, fuck.” Your toes curl tight over the bedsheets as your pussy flutters, throbs, gushes. Your vision whites out as you come hard enough to make your thighs shake, hard enough that your stomach muscles tremble with the effort of holding you up. Jimin’s mouth works you through it, tongue stroking flat and slow to coax pulse after pulse out of you, until everything melts into shaky aftershocks and your thighs clench around him, over-sensitive.
He pulls back when you start to squirm, lips smacking wetly on a final kiss to your pussy, and heat flushes your face at the sound of it. Your limbs feel heavy as lead as you slip off from on top of him and collapse down onto the mattress with a floaty sigh, your pulse still thudding brightly in your ears.
You’re only distantly aware of the way the bed shifts as Jimin slides down next to you. You follow his touch on instinct, turning into him when he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your hairline. Heartbeat still slamming in your chest, mind hazy with morning orgasm glow, you hum contentedly as your eyes flutter open to find him palming at a thick bulge tenting his– well, your sweatpants.
“Looks like it’s cooperating today.” Jimin’s voice is equal parts relieved and embarrassed.
With a lazy smile, you hook a finger in his waistband, tugging playfully. “What do you want to do about it?”
He laughs hoarsely. “I would love to finally fuck you, if you’ll have me.”
“I don’t want anybody else.” The thought spills out before you can worry if it’s too soon to say it, but he just smiles and leans in to kiss you.
At Jimin’s guidance, you lay back against the pillows, a couple of which he grabs to slot under your hips. “There’s condoms in the nightstand,” you say softly, and anticipation thrums in your chest, twinning with your still-racing pulse as you watch him retrieve one, then step out of his sweatpants to roll it on.
He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, and your breaths come shallow into each other’s mouths. You kiss quietly at the precipice of this moment, like you’re afraid it might not be real, a dream you could wake up from at any second.
“Thank you.” Jimin’s low voice sends a ripple through you. “For waiting for me.”
You press a hand to his cheek, your eyes trying to take all of him in at once. “It wasn’t waiting, Jimin. Really. I’ve loved every second with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”
“I’m so glad I met you,” he murmurs.
The head of his cock teases your entrance, and you spread your thighs wider, pulling your legs up towards your chest. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you can’t bite back the moan that spills out of you as he sinks into your tight heat with a cock thick enough to split you open. “Fuck, Jimin.”
There’s a pause when he’s pressed all the way in, his body covering yours, your hands clutching at the broad sweep of his back. He exhales a soft, disbelieving laugh as he looks down to see himself buried in you to the hilt. “God, you’re so tight. Does it hurt?”
You shake your head— you’re so soaked from his tongue and your arousal that it all just feels like melting, a pulsating heat between your legs. When he presses another kiss to your lips, he circles his hips, and you both groan at the feeling.
Jimin’s hands grip your thighs as he shifts and starts to move, starts fucking into you with long, slow strokes that make your pussy flutter, as if to urge him in deeper.
“It’s good?” he checks in again, voice tight, clearly holding himself back.
“So good, baby,” you breathe, “please fuck me.” A smirk flashes over his mouth at your manners, so polite when you ask to take it, and then he snaps his hips into you and you keen. “Fuck, please, just like that.”
He does it again and again, hands pressing down on your thighs to keep you folded up under him as he fucks you. The angle is just right for the thick head of his cock to pound into your g-spot with every stroke, and your back arches as your walls grip tight to him.
Jimin echoes your gasps with his own, swearing under his breath as you squeeze around him. He’s thrusting deep-deep now, and your hips shove up towards him for all of it, your thighs trembling as you take every inch. You’re dripping down his length every time he pulls back, wet enough to soak the sheets beneath you.
The pleasure, the pressure as he fills you up is so overwhelming that your hands reach, clinging to anything they can find. A pillow, the bedsheets, the flexing muscles in his forearms. Your moans come unabashedly now, underscored by the slap of skin on skin, the thud of the bedframe knocking into the wall. “Jimin, Jimin, baby.”
“Yeah,” he pants, choked up like he’s close. “Love it when you say my name.”
You sit up a little, folded legs shifting to wrap over his hips, and your hands come to his face to pull his mouth down to yours. His movements stutter as you kiss him breathlessly, and the brush of your tongue over his must be just enough to make him come undone. With a grunt of effort, he thrusts hard into you one final time, and his shoulders shake as he fills up the condom.
You kiss him again and again, your lips pulled into a smile against his as you tangle a hand in his hair, made messy from sleep and sex. Jimin’s body weighs heavy on top of yours as he drops his head to your shoulder, breath coming in short heat-bursts over your collarbone.
“Fuck. Been a minute.” He presses a kiss there, another to your neck, a third to your jaw. “Do you want to keep going?”
Your eyes widen at the question. “I— can you?”
A soft flush paints color in his cheeks, and he’s suddenly a little shy. “Yeah, I can. If you want. Or we can stop.”
You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your noses bumping. “I kinda felt like I was getting close again.”
He smiles. “Then let me finish what I started.” There’s a bit of shuffling as he moves to the edge of the bed to remove and tie up the used condom, then reaches for the box to retrieve another.
As he tears open the foil and rolls it on, you watch and consider all of him. This body that you know from every angle, that you’ve studied like a textbook, that holds the boy who stepped onto the subway and changed your life and made it better. This body, made to be adored, to be respected and cherished and filled up with love. This body, chosen to be shared with you, to be held by you, to be near you.
That’s all you want, you realize as he rolls over, brown eyes blinking sweetly at you. This body, and all that it holds: the darkness and the light, the pain and the beauty, the soul that so perfectly fits with yours.
“Turn over for me?” he asks softly. “I want to spoon.”
This round is easier, slower, your bodies molding together, shaky from effort and sensitivity. You twist over your shoulder, tipping your head up for a kiss that turns into a shared gasp as he presses into you again. Your walls are swollen enough to be tender, and the stretch of him, the way he fills you up entirely, makes your eyes roll back.
As he starts to grind his hips into you, his hand snakes down between your thighs before you even have to ask. You hook a leg over his to allow him better access and gasp when his cock slides even deeper into you from the new angle.
“So good,” you manage as two of his fingers work circles into your clit, matching the same slow-stroke pace. His tongue slips into your mouth, and with his cock rubbing insistently against your front wall, it doesn’t take much. Pleasure overwhelms you in a hot rush as he so easily pulls you apart again.
“Jimin.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, your walls starting to pulse. Your head tips back against his shoulder as he fucks and rubs you through it, his hums of encouragement buzzing through your body, your hips shuddering. “Baby, oh god.”
Jimin’s strokes start to falter, and then he goes still, your cunt aftershock-fluttering around him as he comes again, groaning your name.
A brush of daylight through the blinds makes your eyes heavy, and they drop closed as you lean into him and breathe through the comedown. You don’t know how long you lay there like that until his kisses pull you back earthside, dotting over your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw. You tilt your head up and he finally finds your lips again.
With a deep grunt of post-sex effort, he rolls over, leaning off the edge of the bed to deal with the second condom. A shiver dots up your spine at the loss of his body next to yours, and you tuck into his side when he lays down again, throwing an arm over his chest to better nuzzle into the crook of his neck. The heat of his palm makes you sigh as his hand rubs gentle circles against your back.
Something cracks open inside of you, warm like his touch, like the sunlight bleeding through the window. You can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat under your hand, and it’s everything, all of him, that makes the words rise up in your throat, undeniable.
“Jimin,” you breathe, “I l—”
A loud bang on your bedroom door makes you flinch, and you roll over with a grimace as Yoongi shouts from the other side. “If you’re finished, just so you know, you left a fucking pan on the stove. Could’ve burnt the house down while you were in there deflowering each other.”
Your jaw drops open and Jimin’s eyes go wide, and you collapse against each other in a silent rush of laughter. You’re surprised when Yoongi’s voice comes back, a little softer this time. “Also I brought some bagels back from work. If you want any, better hurry before Namjoonie eats them all.”
The charged moment has passed, and the words sink back down inside of you. Making a promise to tell him soon, you wrap yourself tighter around Jimin’s side with a smile. “What do you think?”
He nods thoughtfully. “I’ll never say no to a bagel.”
“Come on then,” you murmur, tilting up for a final hit of affection. The kiss he leaves on your lips makes your heartbeat flutter, like the shudder of a subway car.
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omg i LOVED open the way u wrote tae was so 😩✊💦💯✨ i’m addicted to ur writing style!!! if ur still doing requests could u pls do taehyung x reader where he’s your aunt’s boyfriend and he’s really into you and lowkey flirts with you but you don’t realize how much until you two are left alone 🫣 ends with smut and can be yandere hehe the rest is up to you bc i trust you dear author!!
𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭:
pairing: yandere! taehyung x f! reader
genre: smut || non-idol au || fluffy-ish but in a kinda dark way
summary: it’s wrong, but it feels so good.
word count: 4.5k
tags/ warnings: slight age-gap, stalking, infidelity, coercion, naive! reader, but she means well, anxiety, briefly mentioned panic attack, smut in the forms of: unprotected sex (this is fiction don’t be stupid), dom! tae, sub! reader, big dick! tae, ddlg themes, cry baby reader, thigh riding, fingering, dick riding, creampie, squirting, slight cum play, cockwarming
notes: yes! thank you for having so much faith in me, and i hope this lives up to your expectations :’)
request rules can be found here || my masterlist
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Taehyung remembers the exact day he fell in love with you. How he’d been mindlessly flicking through dating apps for a quick fuck; only to stumble across, well not you, but your aunt.
She was pretty. Conventionally attractive at most, a little plain, but seemed like she’d gotten around with enough men to please him for the night. The skimpy little lingerie pictures enough for him to know that she was somewhat desperate in her search for a partner and maybe all she had to offer was her decent body— by his standards.
And as he’d been scrolling through her other photos, mingled among half naked mirror selfies, there you were. The prettiest little thing he’d ever seen.
He’d found all your aunt’s social media before making the leap to message her, wanting to know just how close the two of you were and if this little plan of his would be worth it in the long run.
There were photos upon photos of you posted on every profile she had. Like a little trophy, your achievements now her own to flaunt to the world through the web.
You and your aunt were close. That much he had gathered from her social media. Peeved that he was unable to find your own, left to see your aunt’s grating face beside yours in every photo. Nothing a little editing couldn’t fix. He had already picked out a cute photo album for all the pictures he planned to take with you.
He later found out that his soon-to-be girlfriend was more your sister than auntie. With 15 years between your mother and herself, she’d always felt too young to be anything other than a sibling your mother was never willing to have, leaving you as an only child.
And only child who still lived home with their mother because the big wide world is too scary for some people.
That just gave Taehyung another reason to take care of you. While your mother bitched at you about finding a job, with him you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The ground you stepped on too precious, hands too delicate, body a temple that he planned to worship.
Your aunt was a little older than he would usually go for, but anything to have you in his clutches, the sacrifice was worth every second.
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It’s easy to woo a woman who’s desperate. A few sweet nothings and a big dick can get you a long way with a pitiful lady whose self-esteem lays in the depths of hell. Luckily, he lurked that low, and now he had a prize he was trying to win, kneeling before the devil himself to have you as his own.
It wasn’t long before your aunt had invited him to dinner with you and your mother. Caring more about your validation than your mothers, but he wasn’t all that bothered about the woman anyways. A spitting image of you if you were to age 20 odd years. But it wasn’t her he was after.
And Taehyung could feel his cock throb under his slacks at the sight of you, fidgeting under his gaze as he takes a little longer than proper watching you from across the table; though neither your mother nor his girlfriend seemed to notice, too hung up in their own little catch-up to care.
He could see your fingers itching to pick up the crayons left by the last little family that had sat at the table, your eyes trained on the maze from the kids menu. Probably mapping out the way in your mind, squirming when he assumes you’d escaped the maze.
And Taehyung wants to coo when your mother tells one of the waitresses to clean up the mess; pitiful pout on your lips that you hide behind your teeth when she turns to you, asking what you wanted to order.
Your eyes flit to the menu, then to your mother, then over to Taehyung before blurting you’ll just have salad. Unbothered, your mother shrugs, calling over the waitress again when she asks the rest of the table if they’re ready to order.
Taehyung thinks the little dinosaur shaped nuggets would have suited you better. Maybe a pretty pink milkshake to match your pretty pink cheeks.
He wouldn’t mind feeding you spoonfuls of whipped cream between bites of french fries, and then buying you a cute strawberry cake for afters. You look like you might have liked the brownies and vanilla ice cream better though.
Maybe he could spoil you a little, buy you both and when you shake your head, claiming to be too full; he’d pull you over his lap, teasing the edge of your panties as he makes you lick the chocolate sauce off his fingers.
And oh how sweet you would taste after that. He doesn’t think he’d be able to stop kissing you until your lips are swollen with his love, sticky with his spit and left over ice cream that he would clean with his tongue.
His mood sours when his girlfriend runs a hand along the length of his thigh, lovestruck smile plastered on her face as your mother asks questions on how the two of them met.
His little fantasy of your perfect little date being shattered by the shrill voice of your aunt as he fawns over your new sweater that your mother informs them that you’d ordered online.
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He eased you into it. His own little game of how long he can keep up his flirty little touches before someone noticed.
Carefully brushing over your back as he walked past you. His arm slung around your shoulder when you’d be stood by yourself in the garden as the rest of your family gathers around the grill. More interested in the smell of food than one another.
But Taehyung found you didn’t like large groups of people, family or not, loud noises picking at your brain, like an itch that won’t go away until tears gathered on your waterline and Taehyung would have to sit in the corner of your room with you until you calmed down. Your head in his lap as he runs his fingers through your hair.
Because he seemed to be the only one who cared that you’d had a panic attack, worried to leave you alone, to cry until your head hurt. To then feel sorry for yourself as you curl up between the arms of your plushies that line the bed. Now why would you do that, when he could hold you tighter than your little bear ever could?
“Thanks for helping her. Poor thing, her anxiety has been worse as of late. Must be school” his girlfriend whispers from the door, heart swelling with happiness at the image of you two together.
“Having such large family gatherings isn’t helping” he mutters, tongue poking the inside of his his cheek as your aunt waves him off.
“We’ll get her to stay up in her room next week then”
Other times, his fingers lingering over your own a little longer than they should as he gives you gifts.
You assume Taehyung must come from money. If the shiny looking pearls that hung around your aunt’s neck were anything to go by. Her dead-end, 9-5 job could barely cover rent, you doubted she was splurging on overpriced rocks and fancy dinners that she flaunts when she comes over. Making you scroll through endless pictures of 5 course meals that you have no interest in.
He never spoke of himself much. You had never heard of his parents, nor did he ever seem busy with friends when it came to your weekly dinners. Your aunt didn’t seem to care either way; having won the jackpot with a rich, hot boyfriend that would fuck her like a common whore at night and treat her like royalty during the day.
Taehyung was very generous, you knew that much. He often came a couple of times a week to visit you with your auntie. And each week he would have a new gift for you.
“You spoil her too much” your mother had tutted one afternoon. You hadn’t said anything, too preoccupied with the paint set Taehyung had wrapped in pretty wrapping paper. Pink with scattered little red hearts.
You’d started to keep the wrapping paper Taehyung gave your gifts in. Gluing them in an empty notebook with the dates written in your best hand writing beside them. Because it felt like a waste to throw such pretty paper away. And it always left you wondering why he had so much wrapping paper to begin with. Maybe he just likes giving, and then you read online that it was a love language, did that mean Taehyung loved you?
Gentle touches had turned to your knees grazing as you sat beside one another on the couch. To you sat between Taehyung’s legs from the floor, while he sat on the chair as you both played a game on the TV.
Some evenings while his girlfriend helped your mother in the kitchen he would lay your thighs across his own, fingers skimming the bare skin until goosebumps prickled in his wake. And he’d hide a smile behind his hands as you squirmed over his lap.
He starts feeding you at dinner, disguised as him asking for your opinion on a new recipe he was trying out. To suggesting what you order when you go out for dinner together with your aunt who was in awe of how well the two of you got along.
Compliments had started off simple too.
‘You look pretty today’ turning to ‘My y/n is so beautiful’ while his arms wrap around your waist. Praise of your beauty never ending, it seemed Taehyung had a compliment stored away on his tongue for all hours of the day. Even when you’d just woken up, hair tangled and eyes a little puffy from eating ramen so late the night before. He had given you a gentle ‘good morning’ as he brought you into his chest for a hug.
His heart had swelled once you’d gotten more comfortable with him. Albeit still awfully shy, you had now started to approach him first. The years of dating your aunt finally paying off as you gift him your own paintings. Thank you cards decorated with the little stickers he’d bought for you and way too much washy tape.
His favorite of your little gifts so far had been the small cakes you’d baked after hearing him tell your beloved aunt that chocolate was his favorite. It wasn’t. It was yours, but he liked the smile on your face when he’d said that, and the fact you both had something in common, even it were as insignificant as your aunt had pointed out.
He’d tugged your chair closer to his own that evening. Aware of your eyes watching his every little move as he shoveled your cake into his mouth. Low hum of appreciation rumbling in his chest as he gives you a cheeky smile.
He adores the way your cheeks had flushed red when he’d carded his fingers through your hair, “So smart. It’s delicious, darling”
And you hadn’t been able to contain your smile.
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“Baby, can you take Y/n to the train station? I think she’s meeting a friend out of town but her mum’s gone for the weekend and I have work in the morning”
And of course he’d agreed.
And that’s how he found you, wrapped up warm in your winter coat in the passenger side of his car; nose red from the bitter cold morning air. Perfect for kissing, but he doesn’t want to scare you off when he’s so close to where he needs you.
“Meeting a friend?” he asks as you shut the car door. Leaning over to help strap you in, you don’t seem to mind, unfazed as his arm reaches over your body, and Taehyung thinks you really must be perfect; needing his help, needing someone to just take care of you in the way you deserve. In the way he knows you need.
“Yeah” you nod, voice barely above a whisper, but he hears you, attuned to how soft you spoke.
“A close one?”
You shrug. “We used to be, but she moved out of town for school and thought we’d catch up while she’s on winter break”
She.
Taehyung’s lips curl up, “Must be nice to catch up”
You hum at that. Feet tapping against the floor.
“You don’t look very excited, baby” his eyes flit to look at your face, teeth digging into your bottom lip.
He’s moments away from touching your lips, ready to scold you that you shouldn’t chew on the skin until it bled, a bad habit he’d come to see you have; but the car behind beeps and he’s stepping on the gas, eyes-brows furrowed in annoyance.
“Just a little scared of taking the train” you admit, hands tucked under your thighs.
“Nothing to be scared of, i’ll be here when you get back” he smiles over at you, and you nod slowly at that.
“Is that really okay?” you ask him.
And Taehyung wants to coo, “Of course, baby. Just call me when you’re on the way home, and i’ll be here right as the train gets in”
“Promise?” you look up at him through your lashes and Taehyung feels his cock throb at your desperation.
“Pinky promise” he gives you his little fingers after he parks the car.
You connect your finger with his own, gentle smile tugging at the corner of your lips as he stamps your thumbs together.
“You got everything?” he asks, leaning over into the back seat to grab your bag.
“I think so” you nod.
“Money?”
You hum.
“What about my goodbye kiss?” he asks, and you simply blink up at him.
“Kiss?” you gape.
“Mhm” he nods, tapping his cheek.
“I thought kisses were only for family” you whisper and Taehyung’s head tips back against the seat.
“I am family, aren’t I?” he turns to look at you, and you think he looks sad, a pang of guilt striking through your heart at his disheartened expression.
Your head tilts a little, “I guess so”
You lean over the center console, hand landing on Taehyung’s thigh as you lean up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. Taehyung turns his head a little, your lips pressing against the corner of his own, though you don’t seem to notice as you keep your eyes closed.
“Good girl, now be quick or you’ll miss the train” he runs his thumb over your cheek.
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As promised Taehyung was there when you’d gotten off the train. His arm wrapping tightly around your shoulder as he pulled you into his chest. The gentle beating of his heart through his thick sweater lulling your anxieties, fingers holding onto his arms like you would crumble if he were to let go of you.
“I got you this” you’d told him once you’d gotten home, inviting Taehyung in to warm up with a hot coffee before he left, “I got one too, so we could be matching” you rock back and forth on your feet.
You drop the little keychain into his palm, character from a game he’d seen you play many times carved out of wood and delicately painted.
“It’s beautiful, baby”
Taehyung thinks he can see the cogs of your mind start to overheat at the pet name. No more anxiety there to overshadow the term of endearment. Your cheeks flushing pink as you flop down onto the couch beside him.
“Come here and tell me about you day then” he pats his thigh.
You look up at him, eye brows furrowing in confusion.
“Need me to help you, hmm?” his hands hold under your arms, tugging you up your your legs straddle one of his thighs. You squeak at the sudden motion, hands grabbing onto his shoulders for support.
He feels your thighs clench as he stabilizes you, cunt throbbing as he holds onto your hips.
“Taehyung” you whisper, fingers clasped onto his sweater.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, gentle smile on his face. Expression so innocent you feel bad for thinking he had an ulterior motive.
“We’re not meant to be doing this” you squirm, pouting when his hands hold onto your hips tighter.
“Doing what?”
Your mouth stays shut, humiliation bubbling through your body as Taehyung watches your face. You shake your head.
“Don’t be shy, baby” he smiles, hand coming to cradle your face in his palm.
You lean into his touch. Hips stuttering forwards as he urges you on.
A chocked whimper drips off your tongue like honey as your panties brush against your clit.
“Like that baby?” he asks, shushing you when you open your mouth to protest.
“You’re okay, I’ve got you” he hums, rocking your hips for you. Your head falls onto his shoulder as jolts of pleasure wrack down your body, slick staining your panties.
A broken moan slips off your lips as Taehyung rocks you harder, slowly brining you to the peak of pleasure, moments away from tumbling into what will be your first orgasm of the night. You whimper against his neck, warm breath fanning his skin as you now rock your hips, Taehyung clenching the muscles of his thigh to help you get off.
“Go on little one, cum for me” Taehyung urges, hands slipping down to grab your ass as your hips stutter. Your thighs shake, teeth sinking into the skin of his neck as you fall over the edge. Little stars scattered behind your eye lids.
“Well done, baby” he soothes, pulling you into his chest.
Your breath comes out uneven, tears cascading down your cheeks in little pearls.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Taehyung pulls your face away from his neck, thumb coming to brush away your tears.
“I did something bad” you snivel, trying to pull yourself off Taehyung’s lap.
He hold you down, tutting. “You haven’t done anything wrong” he shakes his head, easy laugh reverberating through his chest and you just shake your head.
“You’re— you’re dating my aunt, we shouldn’t— I shouldn’t— I just- ” you squirm out of his lap.
Taehyung grabs onto your back, cradling your head between the junction of his neck and shoulder, rocking the both of you back and forth as you let the tears fall.
“You’re okay” he hushes, gentle hands rubbing down your back as you hiccup, “It’ll be our little secret, yeah? Just wanna make you feel good, you’ve been such a good girl recently”
Your shoulders shake as more tears dribble down your cheeks, “been good?” you ask, voice a little broken from the tears.
“Very good. The best even, don’t you think you deserve a treat?”
“Taehyungie always gives me a treat” you use the sleeve of your sweater to wipe your cheeks, hips rocking forward a little.
Taehyung’s hands smooth down your back, “I haven’t given you a treat for being so brave. Going on the train all by yourself, i’m proud of you, darling” he hums, bouncing the leg you were sat on.
Taehyung can feel your cunt clenching around nothing through his jeans, your hips rutting against his leg like a little puppy. He tangles a hand in your hair, pulling your face out of his neck and he feels his head tip back at the look of your tear streaked cheeks, a little blotchy, your eyes begging Taehyung to defile you.
“Has anyone ever touched you here, baby?” his hands slip between the waist band of your sweats, finger toying with the cute little bow on your underwear.
You nod, thigh twitching as Taehyung eases his hand into your panties. Fingers parting your slit, gathering your wetness before he slicks up your clit.
You fall into him, arms slung over his shoulders as he draws lazy circles on your sensitive pearl.
“Yeah? Did they make you cum?”
“No” you whisper, and Taehyung laughs. A daunting laugh that sends a shiver down your spine.
“That was selfish of them, wasn’t it, darling?” he frowns, and if you weren’t so drunk on the pleasure that consumed your body, you may have noticed how condescending his tone was.
“Let’s take these off, shall we” he pats your behind, smiling as you lift your ass high enough for him to slip both your sweats and panties over your thighs.
His fingers return to your clit, letting you buck your hips up to meet his fingers. You whine when he dips them lower, stimulation suddenly gone, the orgasm that was slowly building dissipating as he nudges the entrance to your cunt.
You roll your hips forward, wad of slick dripping from your hole onto his jeans as you wait for him to push a finger inside of you.
“Taehyungie” you snivel, another wave of pitiful tears glazing your cheeks in saline pearls.
“What, doll? What do you want Taehyungie to do?” he urges, blood flowing south at the way your mouth falls open in a pitiful whine. “I cant do anything if you don’t ask”
You take a hold of his hand, pulling it towards your sodden core, “here, please”
“Yeah?” he asks, sinking a finger into you.
You let out a breathy sigh as he adds a second, using your thighs to bounce on his fingers, you pull your sweater over your breasts, matching little bra on display for Taehyung to see.
“So cute, baby. And all mine” he croons, crooking his fingers, as he leans forward to press a kiss to the swell of your breast, your cheeks heating from the crude squelch your pussy was making.
Taehyung uses his free hand to tug your bra down, watching your cute tits as your bounce over his lap, your knee nudging against his cock.
“Want you to come over my cock, darling” he groans, fingers slipping from wet core.
You unzip his jeans, fingers a little shaky as you help his pull both his pants and boxers off before they’re discarded on the floor somewhere.
It felt wrong. Fucking in the living room where anyone could open the front door and walk in. You might have been a little more worried if you mum wasn’t gone for a couple of days, and you knew your aunt was at work.
You felt a pang of guilt at the thought of your aunt. What would she think if she were to find out.
But Taehyung just wanted to make you feel good. Surely there was nothing wrong with that.
“Up you go” Taehyung helps you straddle both his thighs, hard cock slapping against your leg, coating it in a sheen of his sticky precum.
He holds the shaft, one hand on your thigh to help lower you onto his cock. You whimper as the thick head pops through your entrance, your mouth falling open as a lick of pain shoots up your spine.
You stay with the tip sat inside you, your hips rocking a little to try and adjust to the size.
“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me” he shushes when you moan, trying to push in another inch.
Taehyung spits onto two of his fingers, bringing them down to toy with your clit. Your thighs quiver, sinking another inch of his thick cock inside of you. “Almost there, baby”
You pull up until the tip, dropping all the way so your ass meets his thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck, a fresh wave of tears dribbling down your cheeks.
“No need to cry” Taehyung eases his hands down your sides, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he feels your cunt convulse around his length.
“Feels good” you hiccup, “like feeling full”
Taehyung groans at that, hands gripping the meat of your waist, pulling you up his length before he slowly sinks you back down. You moan, breathy and cute and Taehyung wishes he could shove you against the couch and fuck you within an inch of your life but he supposes your first time together could be a little slower.
“Just like that” he praises as you start to bounce on his cock, wetness pooling around the base, coating your own thighs in your own heady arousal.
It was lewd, the noises your pussy were making as you dropped back down onto Taehyung’s dick. He uses the floor as leverage, fucking up into you, making sure his cock was as far into you as he could go.
You cry out, his name the only words you seemed to know as your orgasm slowly starts to build.
Your teeth nip at his neck, saliva painting his skin. “Wanna cum” you whine.
Your breathing stutters when his fingers find your clit, relentless as he flicks the swollen bud. Your thighs start to shake, leaving Taehyung to thrust up into you with all he had.
“Wait—“ you squeak, vulgar moan cutting you off, “feels like i’m gonna pee” you cry, trying to push yourself off Taehyung’s cock. He holds you down, continuing to fuck up into you.
“Just let it go, doll” he groans, head tipped back against the back of the couch.
“No” you cry, “I really have to—“ you’re cut off as you feel what you can only describe as an explosion of wetness leak from your cunt.
Taehyung’s cock slips out of you at the force of it, your thighs shaking as Taehyung holds you to his chest, fingers slowing down their figures of eight on your clit as he helps you ride out your high.
“Well done, baby. You squirted” he soothes, lazy smile on his face as he lines his cock back up with your cunt, “it’s almost over, i’m close” he tells you.
You simply lay slumped against his chest. Hips jutting forward in overstimulation as Taehyung slowly drags his cock through your walls.
“Too much” you try to pull away, only for Taehyung to bring his hand down, a harsh slap on your ass.
You hiccup at that, walls sporadically clenching around his length to bring him to his peak.
Taehyung’s hips stutter, thrusts sloppy as he nears his orgasm. You feel his cock twitch before he’s flooding your cunt with his thick cum, painting your walls white.
You cum again at the feeling as Taehyung continues to rock into you, his dick slipping out of your soiled hole before he’s pushing it back into you again, making sure his cum is as deep as it can go before he keeps you sat on his cock.
He slowly starts to soften inside of you, dick twitching in interest as your cunt continues to clench around his length.
And it’s not long before you’re dozing off, still impaled on his cock as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.
“My precious girl” he smiles.
#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts smut#taehyung#taehyung x y/n#taehyung fic#taehyung smut#bts x reader#bts requests#taehyung imagine#taehyung fluff#taehyung x reader#bts yandere#bts au#yandere taehyung#our little secret
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honey's guide to spring⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪷
i've been preparing this post for a while bcuz i LOVE spring and for this spring i just wanna embody feminine, fairy, dream-like beauty in my day-to-day this spring, and just enjoy it fully.
THE MOOD FOR SPRING : planting new seeds, fresh fruit, and bouquets of flowers. tea parties and floral prints and perfumes. green grapes, hibiscus tea and waking up early to see the sunrise.
PREPARATION FOR SPRING : stock up on your favorite fruits and teas. if u want fruits that are in season, the fruits in season during spring include strawberries, cherries, blueberries, kiwis, bananas and nectarines. my favorite spring time tea is hibiscus and i love a good matcha during all seasons but especially spring, and lastly a good citrus tea is always something that i enjoy.
if ur someone who experiences rly bad allergies during the spring make sure that u go to ur doctors for a check up, and make sure that u have everything that you'll need to combat allergies.
THE PLAYLIST : a good playlist is always essential so my spring playlist consists of : eternal sunshine - jhene aiko. はるなつあきふゆ - ichiko aoba. afterglow - luna li. pisces - yerin baek. fairy of shampoo - TXT. scenery - red velvet. hydrangea love - TXT. cool with you - newjeans. salad days - iiso. pov - ariana grande. lyricist - heize.
REFRESH : time for spring cleaning both mentally and physically. analyze what habits are nourishing u and which habits are drying you out. analyze ur space and do a deep cleaning, that way u can feel lighter both mentally and physically.
wash ur sheets, maybe even buy fresh sheets (floral printed sheets for spring ofc)
go thru ur closet and put the winter and autumn clothes towards the back and bring the spring clothes where they're more accessible and visible
deep clean ur room and clean ur house -> get onto clean-tok for some cleaning motivation cuz watching videos of people cleaning and organizing always motivates me to do so too
create new pinterest boards and delete ones that u dont use, or if u want to, create a completely new pinterest account. i've grown attached to my pinterest account so i won't delete it, but i've made lots of other accounts on separate devices
oftentimes we forget to clean what we use the most, and that buildup can cause our tools to be counterproductive, and just carry a lot of unnecessary germs so here are some things not to forget to clean and organize ;
behind ur ears
ur earbuds or headphones
ur skincare tools and devices (gua shas, face rollers)
ur phone screen
ur folders, binders, and folders
CULTIVATING CREATIVITY :
create something - do some painting, start a sketchbook, start dabbling in some poetry, maybe write a short story, cultivate an elite playlist etc etc
connecting with nature - go and get some fresh air, wake up earlier than usual to watch and enjoy the sunrise. drink different teas that you've never tried before, go to a local crystal shop if ur into that, make urself an elaborate platter of ur favorite fruits. go for a walk in the park, pick flowers and speaking of flowers, go and buy urself a pretty bouquet.
create a spring-time mood board
TENDING THE GARDEN OF THE MIND :
ofc i MUST talk about the mind in any of my posts bcuz its just so incredible. but what you think matters!! what u think manifests! the thoughts that u continue to water and entertain are what you will experience. therefore when u change ur thoughts and water the seeds of the new thought, you'll get a new flower.
its like gardening. your thought is the seed, and ur mind is the soil. when u entertain ur thoughts ur watering the seed, and you'll get a new flower, the flower is the new experience. so this spring, plant new thoughts and entertain those thoughts ✨
FUN SPRING-LIKE THINGS :
picking flowers -> buying yourself a bouquet
have a tea party by yourself or with friends (reference my tea party post if u need some inspo)
make a bracelet or anklet out of flowers
take a bath and infuse the bath with things like rose petals, rose scented bath milks etc
crystal shopping (last year i added amethyst to my crystal collection, this year i'd love to add selenite into my collection)
watch a 90's anime (i've watched sailor moon about a MILLION times and im gonna rewatch it again this year bcuz its just the girliest, best anime i've watched and is one of my favorites)
so i hope that this post sparked some ideas on ways that u can enjoy your spring girlies ✨
#it girl#becoming that girl#self care#that girl#it girl energy#honeytonedhottie⭐️#honeys guide to spring🪷#flowers#spring#dream girl tips#dream girl#dream life#romaniticization#romanitcize#music#mindset#girl blog#just girly things#girlblogging#girly#girly girl#hyperfemininity#soft spring#springtime#floral#flowercore#snowdrops#fairy#princess#my thoughts💬🎀
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hey!! ty for posting about the article talking about continuation of aa. I don’t know as much about the production of aa5 and 6 but you mentioned a person names Eshiro being responsible for the “no spoilers” rule being replaced. what/who is that? just in general giving u the floor to rant about aa5 and 6 beyond what u were able to say in that post and ur hopes for the future 💙✨ ok bye! :)
hiya!! (post here)
So, the story of why aa5 and aa6 are so different to aa4 basically boils down to a change in the team making it (and Eshiro was part of this).
Most people know Shu Takumi wrote and directed the original trilogy of Phoenix Wright games and then worked on Apollo Justice (although the director was technically Mitsuru Endo, people tend to think of AJ as the last "Takumi" mainline game). After that, he left the Ace Attorney team to complete and release Ghost Trick in 2010, and then he became involved in the development of Professor Layton vs Phoenix Wright, which released in 2012.
While he was doing all of this, a "secondary" Ace Attorney team had arisen to keep working on the franchise - they had almost all worked on previous AA games and in 2009 and 2011 they were able to release the two Ace Attorney Investigations games.
The two most well-known members of this "team" are the producer Motohide Eshiro and the director Takeshi Yamazaki, and the fact that AAI2 is so beloved shows that they are by no means unable to make really, really good Ace Attorney games. But, with Takumi still busy with his other projects, and a good few years having passed since AA4, this team was asked to create a fifth Ace Attorney game in his absence.
This was, obviously, a challenge, and Capcom were likely in quite a rush to get a new mainline game out soon. Additionally, initial fan reception of AA4 was really not that good - many people hated the decision to disbar Phoenix in particular - and the game itself had many loose ends.
Eshiro, as the producer, decided that for AA5 it was better for the writers to not be held back by previous games, which manifested in what people think of now as the "no spoilers rule". This is why AA5 does not follow up on AA4, and likewise for AA6. Nowadays this decision is widely regarded as a very bad move, but on some level I empathise with it - AA has always been kind of reluctant to spoil past games, and you were always operating with the presumption that the player might be new to the series and wanted to go back to the previous games. Writing a follow-up that addressed AA4, while being acceptable to newcomers and not spoiling almost all of AA4's biggest twists, without the guy who originally came up with the story, would prove really difficult.
So they wrote Dual Destinies as a new story which followed AA4 but didn't really address it, and indulged in fanservice to try and restore the series status quo. It seems like the scenario changed a lot during development and they were pretty crunched for time, too - the final villain's models are apparently called FINALBOSS in the game files and completely broken if you look at them from any other angle.
After working on AA5, Yamazaki was apparently exhausted and didn't really want to make another Ace Attorney. Unfortunately for him, Shu Takumi was still off on his Sherlock & Souseki Victorian-Meiji Adventure, writing the Great Ace Attorney duology, and he wouldn't get done until 2017 when DGS2 came out.
Eshiro managed to persuade Yamazaki to work on AA6 by bringing him to conventions, and having seen the passion and overjoyed reactions from fans after AA5 came out, Yamazaki agreed to direct the sixth game, with Takuro Fuse (AA5 and 6's main artist) acting as co-director to ease the load. Some of AA6's cases were also created by guest writers; the SOJ artbook mentions a struggle for ideas, which explains the outlandish setting of Khura'in.
To the best of my knowledge (and I'm not sure this account is 100% accurate so anyone please feel free to correct me) this is why AA5 and AA6 are the way they are. Nobody is particularly to blame for how things turned out; there were just a couple of bad decisions along the way which has resulted in the games being looked back on by a lot of people with some contempt. Given the circumstances, I'm actually pretty impressed with how enjoyable Dual Destinies and Spirit of Justice are, even if they don't reach the heights of the trilogy.
Yamazaki left Capcom in 2019. Eshiro went on to produce Dai Gyakuten Saiban 2, and I'm pretty sure he's still at Capcom.
What all of this means for the next Ace Attorney title is completely speculation, but the short version of the story is that Shu Takumi has finally come back from getting milk Herlock Sholmes Jail writing other games, and seems to be getting hyped up by capcom as the "Director of the Ace Attorney Series". This makes it very likely he will direct and write the next Ace Attorney game. At present we have no idea what this means - he could follow up on AA4's story as well as he's able, he could write another Phoenix game, he might go rogue and write an Athena game, he might do something completely different. But the next AA game will likely be around the quality of AA1-2-3-4 and DGS, not another AA5/6 situation.
As for the producer, this comes from the November 2020 leaks (which was very real - it's where we first got the TGAA localisation confirmed), but the only thing we heard about their projected AA7 was that it would be produced by a guy called Yasayuki Makino. He also produced The Great Ace Attorney collection, and if you read his dev blogs from that release, he credits AA4 for getting him into the series initially, and generally seems to be a huge Ace Attorney fan himself, pushing hard for TGAA to get a worldwide re-release after its unimpressive initial sales (and look how well that's worked out...!)
That's basically the story. I think AA7 will be great, actually, but at this point I will literally take anything, Capcom please my family is starving
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♠️ How aib males comfort you having your period. ♠️
A/N: So, I got something in my mind because it's literally my time to shine ... maybe this makes me feel a little better. 🫠
Summary: You're fighting for life and death, nobody understands why the streets are empty or how you got to the Borderland in the first place, and as if all that wasn't stressful enough, you also get your period. It feels like anything is possible here, but your body is definitely no exception. On an evening when everyone at the beach is trying to have a good time, you prefer to stay in your room and snuggle up in your bed while you pout to yourself and don't feel like doing anything.
Characters: Aguni, Arisu, Chishiya, Karube & Niragi.
POV: fem!reader
Warnings: Not given.
A g u n i
Not gonna lie, I guess Aguni would be the man a woman would need the most in that time of the moth. I see him as someone who wouldn't be too intrusive but also doesn't make you feel like he doesn't care about you. He knows you well enough to know that chasing you out of bed or out of your room is pointless. As number one, he has to hold the position at the Beach, but that doesn't stop him from at least checking up on you.
And when he finds you in the room, as expected, he prefers to just stand at the door and look at you from there, asking something like:
"Do you need something?"
"Are you in a lot of pain?"
"Can I do something for you?"
"Wanna be alone?"
Aguni is a man. He isn't just a boy anymore who would play down your suffering - your pain - or exaggerate it. Want him to leave? He will. Want him to join you for a moment? He will. Want some cookies or some other snacks and candies? He will bringt them to you.
It's that easy for him, there is nothing to discuss about.
A r i s u
Different from Aguni, Arisu would be the one who is the less experienced in that kind of topic. I can imagine he wouldn't even understand whats going on. So he asks you lots of questions, when he realizes you aren't with your and his own friends but instead lay in bed, impassive.
"Y/N, is something wrong?"
"Did something happen?"
"Has someone important-?"
"I don't understand why you are in such a bad mood. Please, tell me, I can't help when I don't know what's wrong with you."
Let's be honest: yes, in the first place some of us girls and young women would feel a little annoyed by all his questions, but it's not his intention to! So, we shouldn't be such bitches and tell him at least the truth:
"I got my period today and ... yeah, that's it."
He may not have much experience with it, but we all know he's not stupid.
"Well ... I saw a plate of chocolate chip cookies in the lobby earlier. Shall I steal them and bring them up to you?"
Yes, king, please, steal the cookies ... ! 🫶🏻✨
C h i s h i y a
Definitely the most annoying and strenuous of all. Sorry, you know I love you, but you just know too much!
"From a medical point of view, physical activity relieves the pain of cramps."
"Carbonated drinks should be avoided. The same goes for drinks with caffeine. This only exacerbates the pain."
"Heat can help. And I'm not talking about the warmth provided by your comforter, but by hot water bottles or warm teas, for example - while we're on the subject of drinks."
Good tips, but nothing you want to hear in moments like these. No, really, we won't, darlin'.
"Don't you have anything better to do right now than bother me with your factual knowledge, Chishiya?"
He and Niragi would be the two most likely to awaken the monster in you.
"There are enough days left on my visa."
"Means there is enough time to bother you with my factual knowledge."
... At least he takes his time for you and spends his day with you in bed, you can't deny you enjoy this a lot, honey. Neither can I ...
K a r u b e
A mixture of Aguni and Arisu, I think. I don't think he would be that calm like Aguni is and I don't think he would be as lost as Arisu is in that kind of topic. Karube knows that we normally get our period again every month, the only question is how long you've been a couple.
You have to get to know behaviors. Aguni is a man with a little more life experience than most. For him, all kinds of behavioral changes in women are not without reason and are often obvious- but for Karube? Hard to say, but as loyal and optimistic as he is, I think you will have good cards with him at your side.
At least he can see that you're not doing well. The reason doesn't matter at this point, only the fact counts for him and he automatically makes it his goal to see you laughing again, or at least smiling. So, Karube would stay with you in bed, no matter what. Except his visa says he will die tonight, then sorry, we have to let him go for a game ...
Time in bed includes much of cuddles, less talking but much little kisses all over your face, especially when it comes to your forehead and your cheeks. And when you look up to him, he will take the chance putting you a small kiss on the tip of your nose, finally making you giggle a little.
He loves hearing your laugh- most when he is the reason for it.
N i r a g i
I don't know why, but I just can't hate him, help.
The past often plays a major role in how a person develops over the course of their life. Niragi didn't have it easy back then and you are aware of that. But that's also why you're aware that he's not the best person to talk to in cases like this.
You can try to deal with it on your own, but that won't do you any good. And you can't hide anything from him either, which is why he will come up with the idea of visiting you in your room all by himself at some point. When he finds you, he just looks at you in irritation and says things that aren't bad, but in view of your situation … well, let's just say he is not that good with words and he can be happy that you know it.
"Laying in bed all day?"
"What's that pout on your face, has someone upset you?"
"Come on, let's get moving, the fun is just beginning."
And when you tell him, you are in a bad mood and he should just leave you alone, he is saying something he'll maye regret in just a few seconds ... or minutes ... or never.
"Why are you kicking me out now, are you on your period or-"
Believe me, Niragi IS regreting what he was saying. From that moment on, where you just sat up, gripping one of the pillows next to you, only to immediately throw it at him. Thanks to his reflexes, he is able to catch it- now he is just speechless, staring at you with his mouth, formed as an "o".
"I- ... Gotta get you some snacks."
"You better do, Suguru."
#alice in boderland x reader#chishiya x reader#niragi x reader#arisu x reader#arisu ryohei x reader#chishiya shuntaro x reader#niragi suguru x reader#alice in borderland#aib#alice in borderland headcanons#arisu headcanons#chishiya headcanons#niragi headcanons#alice in borderland x you#arisu x you#chishiya x you#niragi x you#chishiya shuntaro alice in borderland#aib headcanons#short headcanons#alice in borderland blog#arisu#chishiya#niragi#aguni headcanons#karube daikichi#karube x reader#aib karube#aguni morizono#aguni aib
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Hi! This is my first time requesting something sorry if any of this sounds weird rjxhdvdhahsuwj
I really liked your donnie fic 'Practice' can I request a leo version please? 👀👉👈
Exercise :3
author’s note: :D your first time requesting and it’s to meeee?! I’m flattered and you sounded totally perfect, here you go dear anon~ hope you enjoy
warnings: established relationship, fluff, cursing, make out session, unedited (it’s rllly late like 1:30 am late, pls forgive grammar mistakes)
> donnie’s < > raph’s < > mikey’s <
————————————————————————
‘ So are you down? ‘ -Leon 💙
‘ I don’t know… ‘ -Y/n ✨
‘ Scared of a little exercising?? C’monnn pleaseeee, I promise the lair will be empty, just us ;) ‘ -Leon 💙
‘ you’re such a dork! exercising?! lolllll ‘ -Y/n ✨
‘ yeah, exercising our lips ;333 ‘ -Leon 💙
‘ …im coming, can’t we just say kissing? ‘ -Y/n ✨
‘ NO, it’s exercising, and that’s final! kissing is for losers ‘ -Leon 💙
‘ Hello???? Are u on ur way?? ‘ -Leon 💙
‘ :( Y/nnnnnnn answerrrrr meeeeeee ‘ Leon 💙
Leo huffed as he let his phone rest on his upper plastron. You did say you were coming so maybe you were already on your way? Though he could’ve just portaled you here, that would’ve been way faster, and he wouldn’t be in his head with worry right now. He licked his lips, and then rolled out of bed. The rest of his family was out at a comic con he opted out of going, he had this idea in his head for a while now. The next time his brothers had plans he was going to invite you over, and well… kiss you. A lot.
The two of you hadn’t really gotten to do so lately. Every moment ruined by one of his brothers suddenly appearing right as he worked up the nerve to lean in close to you. He groaned to himself as he remembered. Leo walked pass the projector room, seeing that even Splinter was probably tucked away in his room. Perfect! Maybe he could set the mood, put on a movie for it to be a bit more natural than just dragging you to his room. Yeah, that didn’t seem obvious. Even though he had already told you exactly what he wanted to do, he still didn’t want it to be forced.
He was scrolling through the movie selections on Netflix when he heard you approaching. You liked the play music on your phone as you descended the long ladder that led to the sewers, listening to the sound echo off the walls. Leo scrambled up from his Pops recliner. Rushing to greet you. You were looking down at your phone as you entered the lair, turning off the music. “Ahem!” Leo cleared his throat for your attention. (He did that because you told him many times before that he was too quiet when entering a room! Often scaring the daylights out of you since he was so silent.) You looked up immediately giving him a bright smile.
“Hey,” you said softly and he quickly scooped you up into his arms. Giving you a twirling hug before placing you back on your feet, whispering back a “Hi” in your ear. “So, we exercising or what?” You waggled your brows at him and he snickered, liking how eager you were. “Duh, though I thought maybe a movie-“ Leo was cut off by the sound of your laughter as you shook your head. “Chickening out already?” You teased and he felt his cheeks burn. “What? No! I just thought it would be.. I don’t know!” He spoke quickly and grabbed your hand, dragging you along to the projector room, grumbling about how he should’ve just carried you to his room.
“Alright alright, no need to wallow, what movie were you thinking of!” You squeezed his hand, as he finally let go to grab the remote again. Scrolling faster now to hurriedly just find something decent and chuck the remote away. The screen was moving so fast that you were giggling again, thinking his sudden enthusiasm very cute. “You laughing at me?” He asked, raising a brow bone. “You’re just too cute,” you said jokingly. “I’ll show you cute!” Leo grumbled, giving up on finding a good one and just selecting whatever the remote was hovering over. “Really?! A animal documentary??” You exasperated, paying more attention to the choice you thought he had made and not at the devious look in his eyes.
“It’s informational! And maybe it’ll give you a few tips on turtles,” he winked. But you missed it completely, trying to point out that this show was obviously titled, “Meerkats in the Wild,” and how it couldn’t possibly be about turtles or any other animal for that matter! Leo took advantage of this distraction to sidle up right next to you. One hand stroking your arm for your attention. You looked over, and your eyes widened as he quickly darted forward pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. You blinked as he leaned back, looking up at the tv screen like he hadn’t just kissed you. A smirking smile gracing his face as he felt your stare. Two could play at that game. You moved your knees underneath you, sitting on them to give you a little more height that would allow you to press a kiss on the side of his head, on his bandana specifically. It was feather light, and as he turned his face at the feeling, you pressed another kiss on him, this time on his forehead. “Mmm,” he muttered lowly, calling attention to his pursed lips that were awaiting the same treatment.
Your hands went up, cupping his cheeks as you couldn’t help your smile, thinking to yourself, adorable, as you did exactly what he wanted. But it was the same soft touch. Barely a touch at all and it had Leo groaning, “Such a tease.” You giggled, “wanna show me how it’s done then?” You were challenging him, goading him. And it totally worked as he bit down on his lower lip, thinking of how much he wanted to show you exactly. But he blew out a breath and grinned, “now remember you asked for it baby.” His hands came up to where you were still holding his face, pulling them down and placing them on his shoulders. He wasted no time in grabbing your hips next, wanting you closer, as he pulled you into his lap. You squealed at the sudden change, of course he was going to make the most out of your challenge.
His lips came crashing down on yours once he had you right where he wanted you. A hand grazing up your back and going into your soft hair. He was like a whirlwind, doing too much all at once and overwhelming all of your senses. His other hand held your hip, keeping you steady, his teeth occasionally nipping at your lips, but mainly he was kissing you like his life depended on it. That was Leo for you, when it came to a challenge that he wanted to win, he’d do anything. And he was doing a lot. You tapped his shoulders, trying to pull back for air but his hand in your hair kept you from moving backwards. You gasped in his mouth, as he finally drew back a couple of centimeters. “Breathless already?” He teased, kissing your cheeks as you continue to breath in sweet oxygen. “Who’s the tease now,” you retorted and he chuckled against your skin, moving his lips lower to your neck and pressing a firm kiss to where your heart beat fluttered.
“Nervous love?” He questioned as his face came back up, looking into your eyes, his own dancing with amusement. He definitely thought he won. Your eyes narrowed, not one to back down either, and he was excited at the prospects of what you would do. He leaned back, shell hitting the back of the couch. “No no, just had to catch my breath is all,” you clarified. The smile he gave you, so utterly handsome, should’ve been illegal. You couldn’t wait to wipe that smug smile off of his lips, you much rather it when he was the one flustered. So with that in mind, one hand left his shoulder, your index finger slowly tracing the lines of his upper plastron. Your eyes never left his, and you could tell he was already trying to keep still. To not twitch underneath you and show how much you affected him just by that touch alone.
When suddenly, loud laughter could be heard from the entrance of the lair and you all but flung yourself to the other side of the couch at the sudden intrusion. “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Leo growled as Mikey ran into the projector room just seconds later. “Leo Leo Leo!!!” He sang happily not seeing the way one of the blue turtle’s eyes twitched. “Yeah Mikey?” He sighed, and ‘oomphed’ as his little brother dove onto him, then shoved a dvd in his face. “Guess who got another limited edition movie to add to the collection!!! It’s Jupiter Jim!!” He squeaked happily! Leo plastered on a fake smile, “oh wow!” He said trying to appease his little brother while stuffing down his feelings of disappointment. His mind was anywhere but Jupiter Jim movies. No he was replaying the way your eyes shifted into one of seduction as you became more than confident in his lap. His eyes met yours, his irises crackling with desire, he wanted those lips again.
You just winked at him and then turned back to Raph and Donnie who were explaining in great detail about the things they bought at comic con. Leo held back a groan. As Mikey declared they all had to watch the new movie right now. His plan to escape with you into his room, thoroughly thwarted. He wanted to throw a temper tantrum. There was no way his brothers hadn’t done this on purpose. They always seemed to interrupt at the best parts! Just when things were getting interesting. Needless to say, Leo sulked the entire movie. Only putting a smile on his face when Mikey would turn looking for his older brother’s reaction to the movie. Leo couldn’t say he paid much attention to it either. Though he would steal glances at you. Of course, Raph had sat between the two of you. They totally did it on purpose, Leo surmised. Bunch of exercise blockers, that’s what they were!
Halfway through the movie, Leo leaned all the way back into the couch cushions. Hoping he would just get swallowed up at this point. When his eyes turned your way, he hadn’t been expecting you to already be staring at him. His green cheeks turned a shade darker. It didn’t help that you were biting your own lip, Pizza Supreme in the sky, you were such a tease! And then he suddenly understood. You were doing this purposefully! And when it clicked, it must’ve been written all over his face because your lips broke out into a mischievous smile. His eyes narrowed playfully, oh just you wait! One of these days the lair will be empty for more than 30 minutes (they were definitely gone for more than that Leo!) and I’ll show you who’s the real tease around here!
#rise leo x reader#leonardo hamato#leo x reader#rise leonardo#leo x y/n#leonardo x reader#tmnt fandom#tmnt#teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#turtle bros#leonardo#tmnt leo#rise leo#tmnt 2018#rottmnt fluff#tmnt fluff#rottmnt leo#rottmnt oneshot#rise tmnt oneshot#tmnt oneshot#leonardo hamato x reader#rise turtles#save rottmnt#rise fanfic#tmnt fanfiction#fan fic#fan fiction#rottmnt x reader
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wait ok i need you to write something trevor zegras based on a taylor song from rep, i saw u said it’s ur fave album so maybe call it what you want or king of my heart but honestly any song at all 🫣
a/n: anything for you 🥰 call it what you want is my all time favourite & the song that welcomed me to become a swiftie so it holds a special place in my heart 🥹 i hope you like it 🫶🏻✨
warnings: none except an overwhelming amount of fluff!
tags: trevor zegras x reader
word count: 0.8k
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
"god, it's like i can't even go online anymore with another one of those bot accounts making some stupid, half-assed comment about us." you said through a laugh to the boy next to you on the couch. trevor had finally had a day off from his busy hockey schedule with the ducks, so the two of you had decided what better way to spend the time together, than at home in the comfort of each other while you spent countless hours cuddling and watching movies.
trevor had immersed himself in a round of video games with a few of his other teammates while you had gone to do a load of laundry, as an intermission to your movie session. when you returned, you contently watched on the couch as he continued focusing intently on the screen before him.
"oh, c'mon, you know it's bullshit, y/n. they just say those things out of spite and because there's jealous." he responded, eyes still glued to his game. your mouth downturned into a frown at his lack of awareness towards something that has previously upset you. trevor knew that it was a sensitive topic for you, the comments of outsiders would always linger and keep you up at night, regardless of if you looked at them or not. even if you chose to ignore it, you knew they were still there.
"yeah, i know. but that's such a cliche; some of those things hit deep, whether they're saying it out of spite," you responded with a hint of mockery laced in your voice, nudging his hip with your foot to get his attention, to which you received no response, making you even more frustrated with the boy.
"y/n," he sighed, "you know, no matter what they say, that doesn't change how i feel about you." he promised, stopping his game and turning to face you. as he saw your saddened state as your shoulders shrugged down, his eyes slightly widened before he rushed to your side and pulled you into him so you were now laying on his chest. you inhaled his familiar scent that had seeped into the fabric of his soft hoodie you gifted him, and you felt yourself relax into him, as he pulled you into a tighter hug.
"it just gets to be too much sometimes, y'know?" you mumbled into his chest before lifting your head to meet his softened gaze. he reached forward to cup your cheek, meeting your lips with a soft and wet kiss, your lips detaching like velcro from wanting more from each other.
"i know, y/n. but i want you to know that there is nothing in this world that could change the way i feel about you. you are the best thing to ever happen to me, and i will forever be grateful that we bumped into each other that one day, or else we wouldn't be here." he paused to give you a soft smile, "i don't know what i would do without you, and letting people online get in your head to convince you otherwise? it's not worth your time, my love." he said looking into your eyes as every word fell of his tongue with such meaning, you could feel your heart warming and you broke out in a smile in response.
"i love you, trev, i don't know what i'd do without you either, you're an angel sent from above. you've made my world such a better place now that you're in it, and even though it's discouraging, being with you like this," you motion to your proximity, "it makes me feel like they fade to nothing when i look at you."
you lips reconnect with his, with more intimacy and passion this time, as you readjust yourself to be sitting, pressed against each other to feel each other's warmth.
you part, resting your foreheads against each other and laugh at the silence, "honestly, i'd wear your initial on a chain around my neck if i could," you spoke randomly, earning a raised eyebrow from trevor as he then furrowed his brows in confusion.
"you would? i mean- that seems a little possessive, don't you?" he asked, rubbing his hand up and down the side of your arm.
"no, well- i wouldn't wear it in a way that says you own me, more so, because you really know me." you stated with a shrug.
the pair of you look at each other in silence, each of you confused at what you had just said, before bursting into laughter as he lunged towards you, carefully tackling you back onto the couch so you laid under him as he attacked your face with wet kisses.
he pulled away from you, looking down with shortness of breath from his surge of energy, "you're crazy, you know that?" he asked.
"what are you talking about, you love crazy." you responded, which only ended up with you laughing endlessly from the kisses he placed all over your face and neck.
#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras imagine#trevor zegras fic#nhl x reader#nhl imagine#nhl fic#trevor zegras
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My honest reactions of episodes 5 and 6 (part 1)
PART 2 : HERE
(‼️SEASON 4 SPOILERS‼️)
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We obviously start with the ✨sadidas✨ Armand and Amalia (as we should 💕) coming back from the assembly meeting with the Eliatrope goddess.
Okay so were starting off pretty strong lol
I LOVE how Armand thinks about the Eliatrope goddess cuz yeah we were pretty much thinking the same thing (about how she’ll pretty much stalk them and will put her children in their world) and I just absolutely LOVE how he’s keeping his guard because of her and has become even more doubtful of Yugo. (Just look at his eyes as he stares at Amalia!!)
Because yeah, even though he wasn’t as wary of Yugo before, some hints were still shown in the OVAs when he called him “a king without his people is unheard of” but Yugo shrugged his comment off.
BUT NOW WE GET TO SEE MORE OF ARMAND SLANDERING YUGO and basically exposing Amalia acting “not rational” when she talks about Yugo.
Armand, my man, your sister’s clearly in love with Yugo OF COURSE SHE WOULDN’T BE RATIONAL WITH HIM (you should’ve seen how she kissed Oropo tho you would’ve lost your shit lo)
BUT DAMN ARMAND CHILL WTF ARE U RACIST AGAINST ELIATROPES NOW???!!? Same ngl 🥰🥰 I want more drama 💖💖
I just ADORE Az and his family playing on their tree Tofu tower they look so adorable ☺️✨💖 I already made a headcanon that Yugo and Alibert built it (while Chibi and Grougal just watched).
OMG EVERYONE STFU MY SONS ARE HERE ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😍😍😍😍😍🥰😍😍🥰😍😍🥰🥰 ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE SEEN U TWO 😭😭😭💖💖
Look at these two not doing anything and just being lazy bums 😭😭🥰💕💕
Also I need a gif of Yugo and Alibert hugging with Az and his kids in the background asap ✨
But all cuteness aside, in all my years of being a Wakfu fan, I literally never saw Yugo make that face before. Like it was so uncalled for that my heart literally dropped when I saw him like that. I never thought that the face of terror and shock (combined with the booming sound in the background) could go so well on him and now I wanna see it more!! I HOPE YOU TORTURE HIM ANKAMA!!
Btw the Eliatrope goddess is such a fraud and can’t think for herself even though she said she wants to rule a freaking planet but okay (u fucked up the first time by default when ur kids had one planet for themselves but ur already messing up ur second time cuz ur running away from ur problems when U AND NORA WERE THE REASON WHY THE NECROMES GOT OUT ARE U KIDDING ME- YOU DIDN’T CHECK?!!!???!)
Armand’s really trying hard not to say something racist right now.
Dude can’t even look him in the eyes while saying hi lol
Also can we talk about what Armand told Yugo??? :
Like………
IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE SOME KIND OF FORESHADOWING ?!?!? I DONT GET IT AND IM SCARED NOW ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️
ANKAMA STOP PLAYING WITH ME, DON’T TOUCH MY AMALIA ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️
No because im legitimately scared that something bad will happen to her, why else would Armand say these kinds of things to YUGO of all people????
I swear I will actually cry if this ended up being foreshadowing cuz honestly wtf…why did Amalia ever do to you people….My fear for Amalia was already there even before Season 4 so why do you gotta make my paranoia resurface like that??? Why do u gotta do me like that???? 😭😭😭
This is the guy who started a genocide against his own people and has more common sense than the GODDESS right in front of him. I get that she’s traumatized cuz of what happened to her but you gotta realize that they’ll always run after you if you just keep running, so the least you can do is throw your kids to fight for you. I just love how the only reason why Qilby is saying any of this is because for once, he’s not the one in control of the fate of the world and can’t redirect the signal or stop it himself lol
#wakfu#ankama#krosmoz#wakfu s4#wakfu season 4#wakfu season 4 spoilers#wakfu s4 spoilers#wakfu season 4 episode 5#wakfu season 4 episode 6#wakfu s4 ep5#wakfu s4 ep6#wakfu season 4 episode 5 spoilers#wakfu season 4 episode 6 spoilers#wakfu s4 ep5 spoilers#wakfu s4 ep6 spoilers#wakfu yugo#wakfu chibi#wakfu grougal#wakfu grougaloragran#wakfu adamai#wakfu adamaï#wakfu amalia sheran sharm#wakfu amalia#wakfu armand#wakfu armand sheran sharm#wakfu reactions#wakfu reaction
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hello hello^^
congrats on 500 followers🥳❤️
i don’t know if i was meant to send it here but here i am, i would like to see you write about the thing you choose from number 24🤭
24. Get finger fucked by San or Eaten out by Seonghwa?
Thank you Angel! 🩷
YES U SUBMITTED AT THE RIGHT PLACE 😌
ALSO: I checked prompt 24 and I’m malfunctioning because I totally forgot. FUCK I CSNT CHOOSE BUT HERE GOES NOTHING
K’s 500 this or that?: Masterlist!
Where he’s in a work call and he can’t fuck you, so he uses his fingers instead.
Genre/warnings: smut, drabble, fingering, orgasming, San loosely refers to you as a “pet” (it’ll make sense when you read it LOL)
Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 <message me to be in my tag list ✨>
San knows something is up with you when you suddenly go up to him when he’s in the midst of his work meeting that seemed to be going on and on endlessly. He’s seated at the edge of the bed, with his foldable table he uses when he’s lazy to move over to the desk.
But it’s when you’re pawing at his lap, that San turns his head slightly to get a better look at you and what you were trying to do, and his eyes narrow. Your facial expression is practically begging him to do something to you. San glances at his call, ensuring that he’s muted before he speaks.
“What’s bothering you, babe?” He asks, his palm slipping under your jaw as his thumb strokes against your skin. You relish in the gentleness San gives you, shutting your eyes for a spilt second before you open them, and replying to your partner, “I really need to be fucked.”
San’s eyes widen before a small smile spikes at the corner of his lips. It’s sympathetic at first because he responds with, “you know I can’t, darling. I’m in the middle of a meeting.”
You pout and San almost is unable to resist, that is, until your eyes lower to his fingers that are still stroking your cheek. San follows your gaze, and then he catches yours—staring right at him. He still hesitates though, because he is in the middle of a work meeting, and he has to speak from time to time. He shifts back slightly, letting his hands leave your jaw, letting his attention go back to his boring work commitments. But just when you decide to retreat and play with your assortment of toys instead, San grabs your wrist. He’s still muted, so he’s able to speak to you.
“Strip”, is all he commands, and your heart flutters, your eyes brighten, and San’s cock gets harder. Your satin lounge shorts alongside with your panties slip off your hips, and San makes the biggest mistake of glancing over at you while’s speaking to his colleagues—the way your panties are stained with a pretty wet patch, and the way your cunt looks under the light. He almost stumbles over his words but does his best to remain composed, forcing himself to tear away from the most tempting scene unfolding before him.
When he’s done, he mutes immediately, and switches his attention over to you, only to swallow hard when he sees you looking at him obediently with your hands holding your legs up, and spread wide open for him. Your cunt is fluttering for his attention, only getting even more soaked by the second.
You see the hard bulge that’s pressing against his pants and surprise a smile, still holding onto that innocent facade.
“You have to promise to be quiet, darling”, San reminds you. And you nod, like the good, obedient girl you are for him. His fingers travel to your lips and you part automatically, soaking his fingers with your spit. He’s almost too entranced by the way your gaze never leaves his face as he fucks your face with his fingers, and you make sure they’re wet and ready when he pulls out from your mouth.
He thumbs your clit gently, internally cursing at how fucking wet you are, and wishing it was his cock than his fingers.
San doesn’t warn you at all before plunging his fingers right into your needy hole, and you bite back a squeal as your breath hitches.
The way his two fingers fill you up all the way immediately has you almost panting hard already. San feels his cock twitch underneath his boxers when he feels the way you squeeze around his fingers—warm, wet and tight. The way that there’s a small patch of wet just growing on his boxers doesn’t get missed by you.
His gaze shifts over to you, and you’re looking at him with those begging eyes that he loves and knows he cannot resist. He hasn’t been called to speak yet, so he begins to fuck your cunt with his fingers, sending you into a fucking spiral. As he pushes his fingers deeper into you, the wet sounds grow louder, and San’s rationale grows thinner with every soft whimper and moan that leaves your lips.
He curls his fingers in you, pressing onto your g-spot, which makes you moan uncontrollably, and thank fuck he’s still muted. By then, his concentration barely fucking exists in the meeting, the only thing going through his ears are the squelching of your cunt, and the dirty shit you’re saying.
“oh, fuck! Sannie that feels so good. There, right there”, you mumble-cry, your cunt pulling his fingers in every time he drags them out.
“San”, his colleague calls out. San snaps back to attention at his work call, despite him being knuckle-deep in your pussy. He briefly unmutes, and it takes up all of this concentration to even answer his colleague, especially when the pulsing of your pussy walls around his fingers is driving him up the wall. He’s begging internally for his colleague to finish the shit he wants to say, nodding as much as he can, before releasing the spacebar, and he’s back to being mute, only to immediately hear your whines again.
“Harder”, you mumble, desperate to chase your orgasm that is just dangling from you. San releases a shaky breath when he glances down at you. He pulls out, watching the way the clear slick becoming thick cream soaking his fingers.
And then he starts fucking jackhammering his fingers into your pussy, wanting to get this over and done with before he actually loses his fucking mind. The sounds are obscene, it bounces all over the walls of the room along with your moans and cries. He has his eyes back on the laptop screen, but he’s swallowing hard, and the wet patch on his crotch only gets wetter and larger.
“Amazing, so fucking amazing. I’m gonna-“ you cry out as softly as you can, your thighs trembling every time he drags his fingers out from your sopping cunt.
His eyes dart back to you when he feels your walls spasm around his fingers, and he cursed internally when the sight before him is you, covered in tears, and your cunt spitting out so much cream, all over his fingers, staining your inner thighs as your orgasm overtakes your senses.
“Sannie…”, you whimper.
“San”, his colleague calls out again. “You good? You’ve been looking pretty concerned since just now. Is everything okay over there?”
San glances over at you, looking like a beautiful mess. He runs his drenched fingers across your extremely soaked folds with a smirk before he faces the camera again.
“Yeah, it’s just that it’s a handful when you have such a needy kitten around you, you know.”
#k’s500thisorthat🌶️#ateez#ateez scenarios#ateez x reader#ateez fanfic#ateez imagines#ateez smut#smut#ateez fic#kpop smut#choi san smut#choi san#choi san x reader
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Short stories part two in comin' guys!
Idk how much I've made since the last one, so here goes-
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Chuuya: I can't fuckin' hear ya!
Kunikida: Well, fine, I'll come clos-
Chuuya: IM TOO BUSY NOT LISTENIN' TO YA
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Tachihara: My disguise is flawless!
Chuuya: Oh yeah? does not know who this guy is What does it look like?
Tachihara: brandishes his signature band-aid
Chuuya: Raises brow
Tachihara: puts it on
Chuuya: jumps like a cat HOLY SHI--TACHIHARA?! WHERE IN THE EVER LOVING FUCK DID YOU COME FRO-
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(Chuuya doesn't like people touching him)
Chuuya: choking on carrots
Someone random: I know the heimlich, I know how to help!
Chuuya: frantically yelps NO! dies
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Fukuzawa: All I ask is for you to hug them.
Chuuya: looks frantically at Shin (I will not give them the high and mighty title of Soukoku) Y-you're kidding. Awkward chuckle.
Fukuzawa: Fatherly raise-eyebrow look.
Chuuya: Eheheh…eheh…oh come on…
Also Chuuya: Slowly looks to Shin and specifically looks at Akutagawa
Atsushi: Awkwardly raises arms
Chuuya: Stumbles over, tries to raise his arms to hug them both and pulls away last second Nope. Nope. Can't do this. I'd rather vomit. I actually can't look at his face. Jogs over to where Dazai was while watching from the side-lines
Dazai: Chicken.
Chuuya: Oh shut up, dumbass. You would have killed them had they touched me. Hiss.
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Dazai: Wanna see a magic trick?
Chuuya: takes a moment before he understands Oh shit-
Atsushi: OOh, sure!
Dazai: grabs Chuuya before the avian can escape Guys, c'mere!~
Chuuya: DAZAI NO-DON'T YOU DARE YOU SWORE TO ME-
Kunikida, Ranpo, Kenji and Yosano: Wander over grudgingly except for Kenji
Chuuya: Fuck fuck fuck fuck let me go- writhing and flapping his wings but iTS NO USE
Dazai: Watch, guys. Scratches the back of Chuuya's ear
Chuuya: Takes a few seconds of silence but then bursts into a ball of aggressive purring
Yosano: Oh my god.
Kenji: ✨ 0 ✨
Kunikida: O_O
Ranpo: Trying so hard not to laugh
Atsushi: QMQ W-w-wh-wha-
Dazai: Tehdahh!!
Chuuya: Fuck--purrr---you shitty--purrrrr--DAZAI--PURRR somehow gets away with wings flapping in his wake as he runs to the bathroom
Also Chuuya: Oh my---purrr---fucking god. That shitass promis-purrr..purrr.. F u c k. I'ma revoke the keeping him alive policy, I--purr--swear to GOD-
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Chuuya: "Fuuuuuck you."
Dazai: "Fuck you!"
Chuuya: "Fuck me, then, coward!"
Dazai: "Sure thing you needy little shit!"
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Bram: There used to be a plethora of werewolves during my time. Such things were most common.
Chuuya: …Hmmmm. I can kinda like…get you something as close to a werewolf as I can.
Bram: Please do, I'd be most grateful. It has felt like a millenia since I've last encountered such a common kind that seems so terribly uncommon in these parts.
Chuuya: Disappears, and from the distance: Yo, Atsushi!
Also Chuuya: drags Atsushi by the scruff back to Bram and throws him on the ground like a sack of potatoes Here he is. He's more of a cat though, really. But he's still got the moon shit goin' on.
Bram: This pathetic mongrel? Looks mildly disappointed
Chuuya: Yeahhh, I know. This guy sucks, but he still got the semi-werewolf going on.
Bram: Do you perhaps have anything more than this…creature?
Chuuya: Er..unfortunately….no.
Atsushi: …I have ears, you know. Still on the ground
Chuuya: Pretend you don't and let the adults keep talking.
Atsushi & Bram: …
Atsushi: Screw this. Sits up and walks away
Chuuya: grabs him by the scruff again He's just a tad stubborn. If he turns into a full tiger under the full moon, do you think that'll help?
Bram: Sigh I suppose…there's certainly only one way to find out.
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Dazai: Addressing Chuuya’s parents your son calls me daddy too ^^
Chuuya: DAZAI WHAT THE FUCK—
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C: Don't make this worse.
D: Define worse-
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Chuuya: You’re bullshitting me so hard right now.
Dazai: ….
Chuuya: claps hands great, when do we start?
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Chuuya: a cowboy? Eh…I’m not big on riding horses.
Dazai: but you’re big on riding me?
Chuuya: huh?
Dazai: Stupid shit eating mischievous look
Chuuya: gets it oh—OH FUCK YOU—
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(Opinon: This one is shit)
Chuuya: tries making a nest
Dazai: not helping
Chuuya: Dazai, ya ass, come here and help!
Dazai: but I’m disabledddd
Chuuya: oh fuck off. We’ll see how disabled ya are when I make you carry all the shit we’re gonna get from the store.
Dazai: blinks since when are we going to a store?
Chuuya: since now. Get the fuck moving.
20 minutes later at a department store (I think)
Dazai: Y’know, you remind me of the stereotype I heard on the internet.
Chuuya: mmmm?
Dazai: where women have a knack for comfort in bed, so they have an exorbanatly large amount of pillows and blankets?
Chuuya: comes close and hisses Ain’t my fault that I’m half dragon and in need of a nest! Fuck off about the subject or so help me, damnit!
….so the nest was built afterward, and Dazai served timeout in the corner for 20 minutes instead of snuggling with Chuuya in his new nest
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Chuuya: twittering
Dazai: listens to him and knows he's saying something but doesn't know what
Atsushi: joins on the conversation, growling and snarling to Chuuya
Chuuya: twitters and whistles back
Dazai, feeling jealous: You guys have a secret language now!? No fair!!
~~~~~
(Part 2 kinda)
C: Starts twittering to Atsushi
A: Growls back to him to start the conversation
A few minutes later….
C: Gasps and comes out of animal speak "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"
A: "Nuh uh!"
D: Quickly comes in and grabs Chuuya before he could whack the shit out of Atsushi
C: "LEMME GO!"
D: "Chuuya calm down-"
C: "That mother fucker is going to FEEL MY WRATH-"
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(This could be either counted as au or canon, but here's a funny short anyway)
D: I'm gonna fuck you, Chuuya.
C: You mean fuckin' kill me, right?
D: …. :)
C: You…mean fuckin' kill me….right?
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Chuuya to Dazai: Here, hold this gives him his gloves and ring
Chuuya: Goes over to Clthulu HEY SQUIDDY!
Clthulu: Turns around by jamming its tentacles into the earth and spinning its massive body towards Chuuya
Chuuya: I hope you glued those tentacles on tight. Oh grantors of dark disgrace, do not wake me again. Corruption insues
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Chuuya: I identify as an asshole. Grins and puts hands on hips
Dazai: And I identify as the dick.
Chuuya: …
Dazai: …
Chuuya: Gets it OH YOU DICK-
Dazai: Case in point ;D
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That's caught up to the most recent ones! Enjoy :))
#bsd#bungo stray dogs#chuuya nakahara#dazai osamu#soukoku#au#bungou stray dogs#dazai x chuuya#skk#skk au#atsushi nakajima#bram stoker#yosano akiko#kunikida doppo#miyazawa kenji#ranpo edogawa#akutagawa ryuunosuke#fukuzawa yukichi#tachihara michizou#dazaixchuuya#bsd short story#dj's short stories#short stories#au shorts#small writes#snippets#my writing
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okay. i just watched the movie Snakeskin (2001). i bought a physical dvd in the year of our lord 2024 because Taika has 6.5 minutes of screentime in it. and now i'm sitting here trying to process wtf i just watched asjdhfdjsk so here are the highlights (thank you Meow @blakbonnet for going through this experience with me)
first of all, enjoy these screenshots from the trailer (i'm still not sure if they're mandatory disclaimers?):
...but say yes to snake imagery, because there will be a lot of it
we are definitely in 2001. this is extremely apparent throughout the whole movie. but especially from this girl's hair
Taika's character (Nelson) and his girlfriend (Daisy, pictured above) drive around in a repurposed ice cream truck and sell drugs btw. it's called Mr. Trippy.
main character Alice (Melanie Lynskey) is a huge fan of ✨America✨. her best friend is in love with her but she only wants Bad Boys. also said friend's name is Johnny but it's actually Craig
ALSO Craig-slash-Johnny is played by Dean O'Gorman (Fili)??!?!?!?
their hobby is to drive around picking up hitchhikers but only those who look not boring
enter The American. this guy is the most American you have ever seen. americans wish they could be as American as this guy. no one else has ever Americaned harder.
as you can see, i'm not lying. he even says "howdy ma'am" so we're convinced he is a real American
three skinheads are after The American because he stole their drugs (i think). he also stole drugs from Nelson and Daisy, who now owe money and/or drugs to their boss, who also has beef with The American for reasons i'm still not totally sure of
The American not only steals drugs and money, he also has a real gun(!!!) and fucks pretty much everyone?
"darlin'. u gotta earn the raaaiht. ter wear snakeskins 😎"
oh my god the sunglasses emoji just reminded me of the fucking sunglasses oh no i'm not sure i can do this akjsdhjsk this will make sense later i promise
do not learn gun safety from this movie
at one point, there is a whole lotta sheep. we are, after all, in Aotearoa New Zealand. and ok this had the cutest moment of Taika yelling "SHEEPY" out of a car
there's a scene where uhm. uhhh no not gonna describe this i think but. yeah fair warning this movie has some period-typical homophobia let's just say 💀 this is the live reaction:
MOVING ON
if you enjoy the 2000s aesthetic of "look how edgy we are doing drugs" *colorful-haired people on couches in dark club* *echo-y laugh* *hallucinations* *it's mushrooms look it's mushrooms we're doing psychedelics* then this is the movie for you my friend
oh and Alice also did acid at some point while being very "i've totally done drugs before" about it (((doubt)))
GIRL GET UP FROM THAT DIRTY BATHROOM FLOOR
[New Zealand accent] "wow. six and acid." yes she is living all her american dreams as you can see
by nighttime, all three cars (main characters, mr. trippy, and the nazimobile) and the motorcycle (mr. drug boss) have made it pretty far up the mountain, it seems. cute moment between mr. drug boss and nelson. look how :D he is!
but you know a movie with Taika in it needs to have a father figure talk down to him so he gets very 🥺 right after this
lots of shit goes down (i won't spoil too much if by any chance you still want to watch this) and it turns out that the older skinhead guy is the best actor in the movie??
and NOW things get weird
Craig and The American have so much beef by now that they decide to solve it by russian roulette
Alice's reaction to this is something like "ugh, you guys are crazy, i can't watch this 🙄"
like she just walks away?? GIRL THEY'RE AIMING A REAL GUN AT EACH OTHER
she keeps COMPLETELY UNDERREACTING TO WHAT IS HAPPENING like (spoilers from now on) CRAIG IS SHOT AND KILLED and she doesn't even run over and she doesn't even say anything to The American?? WHO SHOT HIM???? he's just standing there??
and then. AND THEN.
ok this is where i fully lost it for several minutes and missed half the following scene. i was fucking HOWLING like actually crying with laughter, i couldn't see or breathe and my partner got worried ksjdhfdjsk ok so here's what happens
they're in the car. craig is obviously very dead. alice is kinda in denial i guess. The American tells her to shut his eyes and she's like why? BECAUSE HE DEAD GIRL!! but she doesn't, she doesn't shut his eyes, no, this is what she does instead
I COULD BARELY MAKE THIS GIF BECAUSE I KEPT LAUGHING TO THE POINT OF TEARS
NOT THE SUNGLASSES ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. THE UNTAPPED MEME POTENTIAL HERE IS FUCKING RIDICULOUS
ANYWAY shortly after this we hear one of the funniest lines in the movie (and it's not even about the shooting and killing of Craig):
"fuck, Seth! this isn't fucking America, you can't just go around shooting everybody!"
oh yeah The American does have a name and it's Seth
i'll just post a few chat screenshots for the next part because i can't really describe it, i promise we're almost at the end
after some incredible visual effects™️, we end with Return of the Sunglasses (and me scaring my cats away because i was sobbing again)
i haven't even really talked about Taika's scenes much (the reason i watched this in the first place) because the ending took me OUT and honestly he is maybe the most normal person in this whole movie. one review (from the trailer) wrote this:
and yeah that may honestly be the best way to describe it. 10/10 movie watching experience, highly recommend. thank you for coming to my snek talk
#snakeskin (2001)#ida.stuff#🐭📓#anyway if you still wanna watch this movie hit me up lmao#i recommend drinking#but seriously i will go to bed now it's past midnight but i had to get this out#taika waititi
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video diary entry ideas⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍭
so if u dont already know, a video diary is exactly what it sounds like. a diary of videos that u make, in my previous post about video diaries i talked ab why its sm fun and in this post i'll be giving video ideas just in case u need an extra push or ideas ✨
THRIFT HAUL ;
talk about ur personal style and ideas and what ur plans are for those clothes. maybe turn the clothes that u thrifted into a project and personalize the clothes to ur needs and style. talk about how you'd style the clothes. as a person who has a passion for fashion i love a good thrift haul video entry.
BAKING AND CHATTING ;
pick up a box of cake mix and make ur favorite sweet treat while just chatting to the camera. this is helpful especially if u find sitting and talking about ur thoughts and expressing urself kind of awkward, it gives u something to do and helps to lessen the anxiety if ur just starting.
LETS TALK ABOUT IT ;
my video diary is like my own podcast so here's some things that i've talked about.
my "hot takes"
ideas for my future
things that frustrate me
talk about ur day in a different language (this is also great practice if ur learning a new language)
talk about whats going on in a show/series that ur watching or reading
and just sitting and talking is a rly great way for me to cultivate creativity, think of new ideas for literally everything. from my blog to law of assumption epiphanies to projects, fashion ideas and projects, my music EVERYTHING.
talk about things that u need to get off of ur chest for ur own peace yk? cuz theres just something about saying it out loud
do a mukbang
DO A COLLECTION TOUR ;
i've actually written a post about starting a collection, but if u need an idea for a video entry go through ur collection and talk about pieces in ur collection.
DO A MUKBANG ;
order and eat ur favorite foods, or if u want to you can take an asmr kind of approach so that then u can enjoy your food and the sounds r SO GOOD in my opinion. when u do a mukbang or asmr u can try new foods and give feedback which gives u something to talk about. some things i've mukbanged recently are
mexican tacos and rice water and for dessert i had cheese cake tempura with some mochi
it was actually my first time trying rice water and it was SO GOOD. it was so delicious and refreshing and the tacos were amazing too. the cheese cake tempura was a bit small but it was rly good and the mochi as always was delicious.
#video diary💬🎀#becoming that girl#self care#honeytonedhottie⭐️#that girl#it girl energy#dream girl tips#dream girl#dream life#it girl lifestyle#it girl#girly#girl blogging#girl blogger#ideas🌸#romanticization#romanticize#hobbies#hyper femininity
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Can you do Blue Lock Sae x female reader x Rin? The brothers are fighting for her love.
A/N: I SURE THE FUCK CAN!! The itoshi effect is hating them both and then post backstory explanation coming to like them both a lot😔
TAGLIST: @priv-rose
Sae & Rin itoshi:
- okay so boom
- Had another OC though of being like a counselor at blue lock bc none of them boys is right in the head😭
- You have previous connections to Sae bc you were a counselor for another team he was on and his manager liked you so he would schedule private sessions
- Ended up in you leaving bc he’s so frustrating but alas fate has other plans
- You show up to the U-20 match bc DUH
- Anri doesn’t have any money to hire a manager also so you’re taking over that role
- Sorry😔
- Anyway rin comes to respect you for dragging him by his eyelashes about his trauma
- “So are we gunna start with hating yourself and thinking you’re not good enough to prove a point to your shitty brother OR are we working on your material conditions that stem from that today?”
- “…..off yourself”
- Like he can’t say shit back bc you got em!
- Comes in often enough now that he doesn’t schedule sessions he just shows up to spill the tea
- (Isagi and bachira are the same. the spies on the inside that tell you how the others are doing)
- He comes in and flops down in the chair
- “I’m not looking forward to seeing him. Why the fuck did they call HIM to help the team? His ass should have stayed in Spain!”
- “Oh I hear ya, I’m not looking forward to even making eye contact with his ass either. I’m counting on yall to win.”
- “The game-“
- “I want yall to crush him. I have my own personal beef with him.”
- “…….im not asking how.”
- You’re being restrained from jumping over the divider during the game to go swing on Sae
- Like did you see that?? THE AUDACITY
- DID NOBODY ELSE IN THE WHOLE STADIUM HEAR THAT SHIT??
- Yeah I would have swing on his ass right when the final whistle blew
- Better than me for him to get that mess out his mouth about isagi
- Would have stood up and clocked his ass
- When they’re all jumping all over each other celebrating you can feel the bad vibes coming from rin
- It’s suffocating
- You run to the locker rooms to catch him and bump into sae(accompanied by shidou)
- “……”
- Glaring at his ass
- Give him the dirtiest look ever
- And then turn to Ryusei smiling like you saw a puppy
- “Hey Ryu! Wonderful performance you put on today. You definitely stole the show.”
- Like lmao just ignore him pls
- After saving rin from going off the deep end; bc baby I’m so sorry that an ugly ass bitch would say something like that to you
- Their two week vacation starts
- Rin is surprised to see you in not work clothes chilling like a regular person
- Ends up hanging out with you a lot bc you’re the only one who he can speak freely to
- Unfortunately his brother is also back in the country
- Running into Sae while hanging out with his brother was NOT on your vacation bingo card but here we are
- “You’re here?”
- “I could really say the same to you. You haven’t gotten citizenship to stay your ass over there yet?”
- Flashback✨ y’all had a casual thing back in the day because when he’s not closed off he can be pretty fun to be around
- Then he let a white man get in his feelings and refused to talk about them and lashed out on you
- So he just kinda got these feelings and nothing to do with them
- Didn’t think he’d ever see you again to be honest so now stuff that he buried ages ago is in his face
- Can’t tell you sorry. Doesn’t know how.
- Sees you smiling and doting on rin how you used to him and can’t help but get jealous
- Makes sure to approach you when rin isn’t around
- You go to the kitchen to get water boom he’s there too now
- “Jesus Christ do you ever announce yourself?”
- “You’re in MY house”
- “Is it your house if you only show up one a year?”
- Can’t help but start arguments when he just wants to talk regularly
- Rin already picking up what his brother is trying to lay down and he’s not having it
- He’s already developed a crush on you like you CANT leave
- Gets nervous bc if your past with sae that he might snatch you up too
- Not letting his brother take something else away from him
- So all of a sudden he’s a lot more touchy with you
- Trust me inside he’s screaming and throwing up bc he’s never done this before but he will try
- You can feel his stiff ass hand around your waist😭
- Poor baby
- The silent itoshi beef isn’t missed by you but you don’t know that they’re competing off the pitch too
- “You sure you don’t want to go do something? Like we watched horror movies in your room all day yesterday, I had errands to run-“
- “Well I wanted to start the final destination franchise so you gotta watch all 5 of them there’s a new one coming out”
- “Yeah in 2025! That’s like 3 years away!”
- “Shhhh, the movie starting🙄”
- Hoards you all to himself in his room because you’re surrounded by HIM and less chances for Sae to sneak up on you in public and steal you away or join your date outing together
- Thinks you look cute wrapped in his blankets and tries not to blush when you cling to him
- “I swear to god-“
- “My bad forgot there’s a jumpscare here I’ll warn you about the next one promise.”
- He won’t
- Sae rolling his eyes to the back of his head bc you just always in the house now and Rin hanging off you like a sad puppy
- Sae is more strategic where rin is impulsive
- So he’s the type to do shit from the past that he knew would make your heart flutter and run will be blunt and impulsive with his actions
- Sae will touch your lower back as he comes up behind you to grab a class from the cub board and hand it to you
- Sae will bring you home your favorite snack when he knows rin wont see him give it to you
- Rin will grab your hand in public and not let go to make sure you don’t get lost on a crowd
- Rin will clumsily press his lips to your forehead when you are most distracted
- Both are very annoying
- And after a good WEEK of getting mixed signals from both of them you’re ready to stay your ass at home for the rest of the vacation before it’s back to work
- Monday morning Rin invites you on a morning run
- Which you obviously say fuck NO to bc the sun ain’t even up
- But he shows up to your front door at the asscrack of dawn telling you to get dressed you have no say in the matter unfortunately
- The jog isn’t so bad and he has the decency to buy you breakfast afterwards so that’s nice
- Decent conversation surprisingly
- When he drops you off back at your home he kisses you before literally sprinting off
- He was working up the nerve to do that all morning
- Can’t even say thanks or whatever yet before he presses his body close to you and lifts your head to slot his lips against yours
- Puts all his feelings into that kiss before managing to get out “bye” before his throat completely closes up
- And then sprints off before you can even blink
- Clown
- Giggling and kicking his feet when he gets home
- Sae is packing for his trip back to Spain at the end of the week
- When he catches you leaving his house after another Rin spontaneous all day movie marathon
- Offers to drive you home because it’s dark and he remembers the address
- Didn’t really offer so much as grab his Keys complaining about how you know better than to be outside this late
- Sir 🫤🫤
- The ride is kinda tense until he forces a conversation
- Unsurprisingly e vividly remembers all the right buttons to press to see that smile he’s been dying to see
- Don’t even notice he took the long way back to your home
- Puts his new number in your phone and tells you to stop being stubborn and answer when he texts you
- He’s a gentleman before all else so he walks you right to your front door
- Man barely hears a word you said before pulling you closer by your neck pressing his lips to yours
- Remembers you like the back of his hand the way his lips fit so familiar with yours
- Ends up with your arms around his neck and your back pressed into the front door
- Clearly wanting to come inside he pulls away because he’s fond of the chase🙄😒
- Wishes you a good night before kissing your forehead and going back to his car
- both of them have laid their cards out on the table
- Just up to you to make a choice I’m afraid
#my writing#x black reader#blue lock headcanons#blue lock#bllk scenarios#bllk#rin itoshi#sae itoshi#rin x reader#bllk rin#rin itoshi x reader#sae itoshi x reader#bllk x reader#I had a whole different direction for this originally#but I was like actually you can’t have both this time#a choice must be made#anon asks#anon answered
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