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#roommate is such a bitch. i can't even.

hispg · 7 months

Text

Whiny boy

Pairings: R4! Leon x Fem! Reader

Wc: 2.1k

Summary: You always bicker with your roommate Leon, but now the bickering goes a little bit different..

Warnings: Porn without plot, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, dom Reader, sub Leon, overstimulation, shameless smut.

An: Yes, I'm obsessed with Roommate Leon, I can't help it.

God knows how you got into this situation, riding your roommate, humping his erection like a bitch in heat, making out with him like it was the last time.

You never got on very well with him, the two of you were always at each other's throats, exclusively because Leon kept working out in the living room, not caring about all the times you asked him to do it in his room.

But he kept doing the same thing, working out in the middle of the living room, shirtless, just wearing those short shorts that barely covered his thighs. And whenever he started to sweat, his shorts would get wet, threatening to become almost transparent.

The bastard knew how much it turned you on every time he flexed his biceps while doing a weightlifting set. And he did it precisely because he got your attention that way, he'd see you biting your lip when he started doing push-ups, when he'd be covered in sweat and breathing heavily.

Could he work out at the gym? Yes, of course. But he liked to have his special audience watching.

You.

"Fuck - Holy shit, please." He begged in a whimper, desperate to be able to touch you.

He looked so miserable, whimpering and moaning so erotically beneath you, so helpless. Even if he had enough strength to push you aside and pin you to the floor.

But he liked this position, being submissive to you. Acting like a dumb, needy little boy, desperate for your touch.

"That's what you get for being so stubborn." You whisper, pressing your wet pussy to the head of his swollen cock, enough to elicit a loud whimper.

He rolled his eyes back and curled his fingers into the carpet, in a state of ecstasy and needing something to hold onto.

"Please..." He begs once more, sobbing your name again and again.

You give a sideways smile, forcing your breast into his mouth, making him let out a soft cry at the sensation.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he moaned against your flesh, wrapping his tongue around your sensitive nipple and making you moan.

You could feel the amount of pre-cum leaking out of him, soaking his shorts and underpants at the moment. But what could the poor guy do?

His mind was blank, all he could do was moan and whimper, feeling totally at your mercy.

He was so hard it hurt, his cock stuck painfully in the uncomfortable fabric of his boxers, and you refused to touch him or let him touch you.

He deserved it.

"Mmhm, let me eat you out." He moans and sobs at the same time, his voice being muffled by your breast.

"Shut up." You say authoritatively, pushing your breast against his lips once more.

You feel his body arching underneath you, just as he thrusts his hips upwards, coming into contact with you once again.

A pornographic moan escapes his lips, he couldn't bear to feel you so wet and he couldn't do anything about it. Although by then he didn't know what was what, whether it was his pre-cum oozing out or the slippery liquid coming out of you.

"If only you'd listen to me." You murmur in his ear, giving light bites and licks.

His voice vibrated against your skin as he closed his eyes tightly. His cock was throbbing and twitching in his pants, he didn't know how long he could keep it up.

You could swear he had a few tears in his eyes, the poor guy felt so miserable.

"Ooh? What? You look so beautiful like that." You force a warm tone, but make clear the debauchery behind it.

He gripped his fingers in the carpet, breathing heavily and moaning so much, he was close, and the way his cock was throbbing made it clear.

"Fuck, fuck, let me touch you." He begged like a puppy, trying to make the best sly face he could.

In response, you rubbed against his tip, he was so sensitive and so close that you could feel the sticky liquid leaking out of him. Just as you couldn't deny that your panties were soaked, you could already tell they were dripping.

He didn't even have to look, he could feel how wet and dirty his shorts were. It was so humiliating, you were being so mean to him, making him cum in his shorts.

But he deserved it, of course he deserved it.

"Mhm, what? Are you going to cum like that?" You tease him shamelessly, moving against him even more.

You saw clearly when he rolled his eyes, gripping the carpet even tighter, if that was possible.

He started sucking your breast harder, hard enough that you could feel his teeth lightly brushing against you. He was sure to leave marks, you bet.

You smiled, leaning on his chest, taking advantage of the fact that he was shirtless, and squeezed him a little, feeling how firm his body was.

With a sly little sound, he let go of your nipple, which was now quite red and swollen from all the sucking.

His eyes went wide and his mouth hung open, his mind was scattered and empty, all he could think about was you.

The way you had him underneath you, riding him and keeping him down. God, it was more than enough to make his blood throb, you had no idea how much he had fantasized about this moment, somehow.

Just out of spite, you sat right on top of his erection, giving him the opportunity to feel your wet slit, at which point he felt so much in the moment that he didn't care about anything else.

He could see and feel how wet his own shorts were getting, he could already tell how sticky things were getting down there.

"I'm sorry, I-I don't do that anymore." Another apology, though it wasn't apologizing that he wanted.

He only asked like that because he wanted you to move, he wanted to at least have a slight taste of what it was like to have you riding him, that's all he could think of.

"Say it again, I want to hear it one more time." You tease him once more, moving slowly, almost to a stop.

"I-I won't, -" He stopped, only to let out another loud moan as he felt your entrance being rubbed against his swollen tip, eliciting a more than impure sound from him.

You stop once more, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look at you, "Look at me while you talk." You mutter, starting to move again, still holding him and forcing his gaze towards you.

It was a punishment, and one he was accepting without complaint. And he would continue to accept it, like a good boy.

"S-sorry, I won't, - Fuck, do it again." It was the best he could manage, his eyes rolling back once more.

He wouldn't last much longer, his cock was throbbing and completely sensitive, ready to spurt his cum. And he certainly wasn't going to hold back, he was dying to release, he couldn't deny it.

Placing both hands on his chest, you began to rub into him once more, your hips rolling against the tent in his shorts, you could already see the wet spots emerging.

Oh, he was cumming.

"Ah! Oh, fuck! Fuck-" He groaned loud enough to echo around the room, his body writhing and the first spurts coming out.

Without any shame he came in his own pants, you could feel the hot liquid on yourself, since the fabric of his clothes was thin and cheap.

Still, that didn't mean he stopped bucking his hips upwards, desperate for more, for anything, any touch.

"Look at that..." You babbled, lifting his face and making him look down, seeing the mess he'd just made.

He hadn't even recovered from the high, he was still gasping for breath and whimpering, and you could bet he was still releasing a few smaller spills of cum. Even you didn't know how needy the poor guy was, maybe you'd stimulated him too much.

"For you." He answered under his breath, almost embarrassed about what he had done.

You let out a giggle, kissing him quickly on the lips, something you hadn't done in a while, as a way to punish him. So simple, but he was overcome by the feel of your lips on his, as if it was the sweetest thing you'd ever done.

"Again..." He looked at you with piteous eyes, as if he depended on it to breathe.

He looked like a poor helpless boy, begging you to touch him in some way, your touch capable of making him fall apart in a matter of seconds.

Once again you pressed your lips to his, but this time it was a longer, even sloppier kiss, because as soon as he could, he slid his tongue into your mouth, moaning all the while.

Who would have thought that a sour-faced guy like him could be so sly. So whiny.

Pushing your hands down, you found the waistband of his shorts, and it wasn't long before you were pulling them off him, pulling his underwear with them.

And there he was, completely exposed to you. His cock hard once again, resting on his stomach. Now you were aware of all the mess he'd made, his thighs and groin completely messed, you could already see even without touching how sticky the area was.

Delicately, your fingertips reached his tip. You were just caressing it without going too far.

As a reaction from his body, he thrust his hips upwards in desperation to find more of your touch.

"Please. Anything." Another plea, baby blue eyes staring intensely at you. Waiting for anything.

You got the message, and this time you would comply with his request.

As if you were an expert, you took off your clothes in a matter of seconds, getting completely naked for him.

And at the sign of you he blinked, salivating and biting his lip, paying attention to your features, the way your body was so perfectly beautiful.

Before he could understand, you were on top of him once again, this time brushing the head of his cock against your entrance, just giving him a taste of what was to come.

His hands left the carpet and found your waist, holding you tightly, doing what he had wanted to do for ages.

Without telling him, you sank into him, feeling his cock all the way in. All at once, and it fit so well.

"Shit-" he gasped, his nails scratching and digging into your skin lightly.

His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling, he was in a state of purest ecstasy.

As soon as you lay on top of him, his hands came down to your sides, gripping tightly, as if he didn't want to let you go.

And he wouldn't.

Your movements were slow and steady, up and down. Leon's dumb face was priceless, the way your name rolled off his lips, the way he let out the dirtiest of moans every time, without worrying about anything else.

You could see how hard he was trying not to come too quickly, but his body betrayed him, the way he rolled his eyes every time your warm walls tightened around him. Or the way he was squeezing your sides even tighter, hard enough to leave a bruise.

His body squirming beneath you, just as he was thrusting his hips faster, moaning and whimpering non-stop.

"Mhmmh, I'm almost..." All he muttered, starting to pound even harder.

"Go on." You whispered, feeling your own orgasm approaching.

You were so wet that you just slid into him without any effort, just moving up and down. Rocking your hips against his.

The sounds of your moans in his ear were too much, his name coming out of your lips in the sweetest of whimpers, it was more than he could ask for. More than enough to send him over the edge.

"Fuck.fuck.fuck." He uttered, holding you tight, slamming his cock into you like never before.

You both moaned loudly at the sensation, unable to think of anything else. Leon couldn't hold back any longer than that, still sensitive from the last orgasm.

Two or three thrusts later he came, with a long, loud cry. You feel the hot spurts inside you, and that's all it took for you to wet his cock, making a mess of it.

His arms wrapped around you, preventing you from moving, he wouldn't let you go, he didn't care about the mess he'd have to clean up afterwards.

You surrendered there, clinging to him and enjoying the post-sex feeling.

For today you'd both given the all-clear, today's bickering ended in a different, unusual way, so to speak.

Maybe having Leon as a roommate wasn't so bad, on the contrary.

It was too good.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #resident evil 4 leon #leon s kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon smut

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

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.

#jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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beom-pyu · 1 year

Text

cologne ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi beomgyu

choi beomgyu x fem!reader , tags; lakeside cabin vacation funtime yay , summer , frenemies w beomgyu , annoyed reader , more friends to lovers bc why not! , some enemies to lovers? , jealous!beomgyu , nsfw , reader is in deep denial , silent pining , can't be a beom-pyu fic without fluff at the end!

warnings: smut (minors dni!) , slight frottage , thigh fucking , jealousy , subtle perv beomgyu? very subtle , beomgyu is a little possessive , cursing , needy beomgyu

( inspiration: cologne by beabadoobee!! literally has nothing to do with the song, but the vibe just reminded me of this fic so! :] )

a/n: just something cute and simple since it's almost summer!!! also, THANK YOU ALL FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS!! im oh so grateful for all of you readers and your lovely comments as well as cute tags and reblogs <;3 you guys make my day!!!

wc: 4.1k+

12:01 a.m

you place the last pillow in between your bodies, humming in approval at your makeshift pillow border. you clap your hands once to get beomgyu's attention, the brunette looking up at you with exasperation from the other side of the small bed.

"okay, so the rules are very clear. don't cross this line, don't—"

"don't touch your stuff, and don't talk to you. i know. you've repeated yourself like twelve times," beomgyu finishes your interrupted speech, ending his sentence with a roll of his eyes.

your face contorts into disgust at the boy on the other side of the pillow wall, rolling your eyes back at him. "whatever. don't steal all of the blanket either."

beomgyu's lip curls up in an equal amount of repulsion, running his annoying fingers through his annoying hair. you abruptly turn your back to him, laying down to pull the sheets up to your chin.

it’s just your luck to be stuck with beomgyu for your friend group outing. you are now solidified in your belief that flipping a coin was the most idiotic way to pick roommates.

how did you end up with the single bed and choi beomgyu? this has to be some type of spiritual karma. maybe you should've given up your seat on the bus for that old lady after all.

"don't tell me what to do," he mumbles as he reaches over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table next to him, settling into the covers. you have half the mind to shoot a snarky retort back at him, but you decide to be the bigger person (for once) and just go to sleep.

this does not mean he wins though.

rule #1 (don't cross the pillow border) seems to be the easiest rule to follow. you both sleep with your backs to each other, bodies fully separated by the plush cushions you’d stolen from the cabin’s couch. it may be the littlest bit uncomfortable, but you rather wake up with a stiff back than feel beomgyu's annoying foot touch your leg under the sheets.

a shiver racks down your spine simply at the thought.

rule #2 (don't touch your stuff) is a little harder for choi “annoying bitch” beomgyu, much to your dismay. when you get up at 3 a.m. to pee, you notice your charger plugged into beomgyu's annoying phone, your own phone sitting sadly next to it at a whopping 23%. when did he even…?

you inhale deeply to calm yourself.

now, you would’ve… should’ve chucked beomgyu's phone across the room and poured ice down the back of his shirt in retaliation to breaking your rule, but when you look down at his sleeping face, you just can’t bring yourself to do it.

beomgyu's annoyingly pink lips are slightly parted, his annoying hair all messy and flopped over his annoying forehead into his annoying eyes, and his annoying chest rises and falls deeply.

he looks peaceful. cute, even.

...

wait.

what. the. fuck?

you silently gag at yourself, shaking your head before pulling a face at the passing thought. you must really be sleep deprived if you think choi “assface” beomgyu looks cute right now. even after breaking rule #2 (don't touch your stuff)!

you shake your head, shuffling over to unplug his phone, pretending to hit him with the device before you toss it to the foot of the bed. you happily plug yours back in before carrying on with your mission to the bathroom.

by the time morning rolls around, rule #3 (don't talk to you) is beyond broken.

there is no reason, no reason at all, as to why you are awoken to beomgyu's shouts bouncing off the walls of the small cabin room.

"SPIDER! Y/N, GET UP! THERE'S A FUCKING SPIDER!"

you groan as you try to blink your eyes open to assess the situation, but the blinding sunlight through the sheer curtains of the room burns your corneas, your eyes squeezing shut again.

“just kill it then!” you whine, burying your head back into your pillow in an attempt to tune him out and fall back asleep. you couldn’t have been any dumber though—in a single beat, the warm white blanket over your body is pulled off, the cool morning air attacking your skin immediately. “what’s your fucking problem?!”

“get your ass up and kill it for me!” beomgyu’s annoying voice fills your ears, and that was your final straw, grabbing the pillow from under your head to chuck it in the direction of the noise, successfully hearing a muffled ‘oof’ in the distance. you smile in victory.

“damn, what did i do?”

instead of hearing beomgyu’s complaints of getting hit, you’re instead met with his loud cackles. you peek an eye open to see soobin standing in the doorway with a pout on his lips and a pillow in his hands. wrong target.

“sorry, soobin! i was trying to hit that loser,” you apologize, sitting up to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you point toward beomgyu’s annoying figure. you see soobin give you a small smile, shaking his head slightly, and beomgyu frowns at the name you called him. serves him right.

after a good 5 minutes of soobin attempting to chase down the spider and get rid of it with beomgyu on his tail recording the entire interaction, you manage to drift off to sleep again, happily spreading your entire body out in the starfish position now that you have the bed all to yourself.

another few hours pass before a hand is shaking you awake.

“5 more minutes,” you grumble, turning onto your side to curl up into the fetal position, blanket still long gone.

“c’mon, y/n! get dressed—we’re going to the lake!” kai announces enthusiastically, shaking you again until you finally open your eyes, feeling a little disappointed at the fact that the voice doesn’t belong to beomgyu.

…

only because you're in the mood to argue! that’s why!

that’s totally why…

3:36 p.m

"soobin!" you shout down the trail, waving a bit as said soobin stops in his tracks, turning around to wait for you to catch up. you jog a bit to meet him, a wide smile crossing his face.

"hey y/n. you coming from the lake?" you guys fall into stride together, nodding mindlessly at his words.

"mhm. i forgot a towel.” you motion to your drenched body, and soobin hums in confirmation.

“i’m heading back too. yeonjun’s rod broke,” soobin informs you, holding up the broken fishing rod with a small, sheepish smile. you laugh a bit at the poor sight, covering your smile behind your hand.

“how did that even happen?”

and from there ensued a step-by-step breakdown of how yeonjun managed to break a pro-grade fishing rod, trailing into a bunch of other crazy stories soobin has to tell as you trek to the cabin. once you get back, your stomach hurts from laughing so much. soobin has his arm slung over your shoulders as he continues to tell the most embarrassing story of his life and you just can’t help it.

"stop laughing at me! everyone saw naruto my underwear," soobin whines, but the smile on his face gives it all away.

“maybe stop wearing jeans that are 2 sizes too small? you’re not in one direction,” you tease as you walk into the cabin, slipping off your flip-flops by the door. you hear soobin half scoff and half laugh at your comment, his hand coming to your waist faintly as to move your body so he can slip past.

you see beomgyu sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, watching you guys with narrowed eyes as he bites into an apple slowly. you feel uncomfortable with his intense gaze on you, suddenly aware of the wet bikini on your body, wrapping your arms around yourself self-consciously.

“you try finding a good pair of jeans when you’re 6’1,” soobin retorts, taking his own shoes off before looking around for the fishing supplies. you puff out a chuckle, heading over to the kitchen, you brush past beomgyu’s figure to dig in the freezer, your back fully turned to him.

“you want a popsicle, soobin?” you call over your shoulder as you pick out a strawberry one for yourself and a cherry one for soobin, already knowing his answer.

“yes, please!” he responds in a silly voice and you smile a bit at the action, turning around to make your way back over to him. your brows furrow at the sudden disappearance of beomgyu’s presence but shrug it away, making your way over to your lanky friend.

“did you want me to walk you back to the lake?” soobin asks from where his head is ducked into a closet, sounds of clanking filling the space as he digs around. you think for a moment as you lick your popsicle.

“no, you go ahead. i’m gonna shower and then help taehyun set up the grill,” you respond, soobin letting out a little noise of triumph as he finally locates the fishing rods, standing back up straight.

“thank you,” he speaks as you pass him the popsicle, patting your head affectionately. “i’ll see you later!”

“see you!”

and then he’s swiftly out the door, leaving you alone in the front room of the cabin. you’re reminded of your drenched body when you look down to see the puddle you’ve trailed across the hardwood floor, mentally promising to clean it up before you make your way back to your shared room.

you knock on the door before entering, just in case someone just so happens to be inside changing or something. when you receive no response, you push the door open to see beomgyu on the bed, headphones covering his ears. they don’t seem to be doing the best job though, considering the fact that you can still hear the music blasting through the speakers.

the eardrum damage must explain why he ignored your rules last night. you accidentally let out a cackle at your own inside joke, somehow gaining the attention of beomgyu who looks up at you with startled eyes. he removes his headphones to settle around his neck before the infamous lip curl appears on his face.

"you fucking scared me. why were you creeping like that?" beomgyu shoots towards you, venom in his voice. it doesn’t phase you one bit though, pursing your lips as you shrug your shoulders, licking your slowly melting popsicle as you head over to your bag on the opposite side of the bed.

"i knocked but you didn't hear cause of your loud ass music. not my fault."

you can feel beomgyu's eye roll from behind your head, but instead of receiving a retort back, he remains silent. it’s odd. choi “always has something to say” beomgyu doesn’t have a comeback ready for you? you grab your towel and stand back up to face him, cocking your head. he’s acting weird.

"why are you acting weird?"

very classy.

beomgyu looks up from his phone screen, squinting his eyes at you. his lips are pressed together tightly, his hair messy, and in his eyes like it had been that night, your mind flashing back to his sleeping appearance.

gross. totally not cute. he’s choi beomgyu—so he’s automatically gross. he has to be.

"i'm not..." beomgyu drags out as if he’s unsure of his own statement. "i'm just tired because someone decided to make us sleep in the worst position known to man."

you give him a small glare before focusing your attention back down on your bag to grab your body wash and loofah. a beat passes as he continues.

"you seem to be having fun with soobin though."

your head lifts back up, giving him an inquisitive stare.

“what? you can’t stand seeing me actually happy and not trying to rip my hair out like when i’m around you?” you laugh in amusement, flipping your towel over your shoulder to reduce the clutter in your hands. you could’ve missed it—you almost missed it—the way beomgyu’s eyes slightly dull at your words, nibbling on his bottom lip in thought. you try not to think of it though, walking to leave the room.

“anyways, we’re grilling at the lake in like 2 hours so don’t try to say i didn’t tell you!” and that was that as you exit, an uneasy swirling within your gut.

2:23 a.m

you sit on the edge of the bed as you plug in your phone, making sure its in the outlet on your side of the bed this time to avoid any more rule-breaking. you adjust your tank top as you stand to retrieve some more pillows. as much as you hate to admit it, you’re struggling to ignore the way beomgyu has been acting around you all day.

little touches at the lake, playfully wiping your mouth during dinner, sharing a blanket with you as you all sat around the campfire, his head on your shoulder. maybe he really was just tired today. maybe he was so out of it that he didn’t realize how out of the norm he’s been acting.

it’s not like you hate choi “mr. annoying” beomgyu. that isn’t the case at all! you’d even go as far as to consider him your… friend. he just has a knack for pushing all your wrong buttons, evoking such guttural annoyance out of your body in a way that no one else can. it’s always been that way since the day you first met in high school.

but he’s never been like this, you think as you grab the pillows off of the floor to rebuild your pillow wall. his voice stops your movement, though, your head whipping around to see a freshly showered beomgyu—his hair is all wet and wavy, his skin smooth and golden from the summer sun. the sweatpants he’s wearing hang low on his hips, revealing the waistband of his underwear.

you swallow a bit as your eyes widen at his figure.

only because you’re not used to seeing him in such a minuscule amount of clothes!

yeah… that’s why.

“can we go without the stupid border? my back still fucking hurts from last night,” beomgyu complains as he makes his way over to the bed, looking a little too good in the warm lighting of the bedside table’s lamp, an orange hue casting over his skin.

you’re frozen as you watch the way his muscles move as he climbs into the bed, laying on his back with his hands behind his head. his eyes meet yours, a brow raised in question. you blink, snapping yourself out of whatever trance you were in, clearing your throat as you drop the pillows back onto the ground.

“yea, whatever. just—don’t touch me with your gross feet,” you mumble, slipping into the bed yourself. beomgyu laughs a bit at your words, reaching over to turn off the lamp.

“just my feet, huh? so you wouldn’t care if it were my hands?” he asks, obviously joking—but you feel your stomach swoop slightly at the thought.

no! you’re just tired. it’s been a long day.

“don’t touch me at all, loser. and don’t talk to me either! starting now.” you turn your back to him, a perfect mirror of the night before as you pull the blanket up and over your body. the room is silent other than the slight creaking of the wooden bedframe as beomgyu gets comfortable.

as much as you want to ignore his presence completely, you simply can’t. he’s too close to your body, so close that you can feel his steady breaths on your shoulder, his body heat radiating onto your exposed skin. you try to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to just sleep, but he scoots closer. and closer. and closer—until his chest is fully pressed against your back, a hand coming to rest on your hip.

your heart pounds in your ears as you take in his touch. you should be telling him to get off of you, or push him onto the floor for breaking your rule! but his hand is heavy and hot on your hip, his fingers playing with the hem of your tank top for a second before they dip underneath, splaying his hand out onto your tummy. his touch is hot and searing. your stomach flips at the sensation.

you can feel his dick chub up against your sleeping pants, his hips slowly rutting up against you. you feel heat rush to your core at the simple action, your heart stuttering a bit.

“beomgyu, what are you doing?” you whisper, voice shaky and unstable as you feel him roll his hips onto your ass.

“please, let me break your rules just this once,” he whispers back, deep voice filling your ears, clouding up your mind. his voice is breathy and low, holding you back against him. “i need—fuck, please, i just—”

his words come out sparse as he rolls his hips against yours again. your mouth is dry, unsure if this is even real. the beomgyu you know wouldn’t even dare to be closer than 2 feet near you, and now here he is, begging in your ear.

“what do you need, beomgyu?” you mumble back, biting your lip as he ruts against you a little faster, a small broken moan leaving his lips at the friction. you’re wet—you can feel yourself dripping into your panties as his fingers press into your skin.

“you, y/n. i need y—been wanting you all day,” he whines into your ear, his nose nudging against your shoulder. it’s all too intimate, too intense—and you hate the fact that you like the way his breath feels on the back of your neck. “can i fuck your thighs, please? please, i won’t put it in—just your thighs, please.”

you inhale, wanting to weigh out the pros and cons—but you want him just as badly. your head is nodding before you can even think and beomgyu’s lips press against your shoulder, mumbling thank yous as his hands scramble to pull down your pants and underwear in one swift motion, before pulling his dick out. you feel it twitch on your lower back and you press against him, enjoying the way his breathing picks up a little too much.

you lift your leg a bit so he can slide his heavy dick in between your thighs, his shaft nudged up against your wet pussy. you sigh at the weight, beomgyu’s hand pressing flat against your stomach to hold you in place.

“thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whimpers out as he begins thrusting quickly, going dumb at the way your cunt drips onto his length, easing the glide. you tilt your head back a bit and beomgyu’s immediately kissing up the expanse of your neck, nipping at your skin, moaning in your ear. it’s so lewd and dirty and your hand comes down to rub at your clit, moaning quietly at the relief.

beomgyu notices your movement, brushing your hand away to do the work for you, his soft fingers rubbing delicious circles on your bud as his thrusts quicken, your thighs becoming wet with a mixture of your own slick and his precome. you can’t help the quiet moans falling out of your mouth at the feeling, his fingers moving just right over your sensitive clit, the drag of his veiny dick applying the perfect amount of pressure against your entrance.

“‘m better than soobin. so much better than him. only i can make you feel like this,” he mumbles into your skin, voice high and whiny as he thrusts against you, pressing down on your clit in a way that makes your gut tighten. you can barely process his words—something about soobin?—but you’re too lost in beomgyu’s touch, his hips stuttering against your gushing pussy.

you’re unable to control your noises as your hand grabs onto his wrist, feeling your orgasm rushing upon you quickly. beomgyu’s dick is twitching against your folds and the combination of his breathy moans and stimulation on your swollen bud is too much. your body tenses up as you cum, pleasure washing over you in waves as you whimper in beomgyu’s arms.

“that’s it, baby. cum on my cock—fuck, just like that,” beomgyu talks you through your orgasm, fingers only slowing on your clit as he cums himself. you can feel the stripes of burning cum shoot onto your thighs, his thrusts faltering as he whines, mouth hot against your skin. you lay there catching your breath, head spinning as you gradually come back to reality, beomgyu’s hand still pressed against your rising and falling stomach.

his forehead rests on your shoulder, breathing heavily for a bit before you feel delicate kisses on your skin, trailing up your neck. you lean into his touch, letting those butterflies swarm your stomach again at the little action.

you don’t want to speak first—you don’t know what to say. after all these years of fighting with beomgyu over the pettiest things, all the tension has led up to this point. you aren’t sure how to feel… but you think you kind of like it.

and maybe you kind of like choi “annoying loser” beomgyu as well.

you feel beomgyu slide out from in between your legs, moving over to the other side of the bed in silence. you feel a little disappointed at the disappearance of his touch.

“i’m gonna go get a towel, okay?” beomgyu speaks softly as he moves to stand, pulling his pants back up. his face is flushed and the tips of his ears are bright red, a shy smile on his face.

“okay,” you respond quietly with a small smile of your own, acknowledging the way your stomach flips at the sight of him. what the hell are you going to do now?

it doesn’t take long for beomgyu to return with a wet rag, climbing over the sheets to clean you up. his brows are furrowed as he focuses on his task, and you cover your face in embarrassment at the closeness of it all—with his body in between your legs, gently wiping up the mess he made. you pull your hands away as his movements stop, helping you get dressed again.

his gaze on you is heavy and you try not to meet his eyes, face hot and flustered as the entire situation fully dawns on you. he’s having none of it though, hovering over your body to turn your head so your gaze locks onto his eyes, his blown-out pupils a little too sparkly, making your heart flutter a little too much.

“are you okay?” he asks quietly—gently as if his voice was only made for you to hear. you nod in response. you want to shrink under his inquisitive stare, but there’s nowhere to run as you’re fully caged in by his body.

you see the way his eyes flutter down to your lips for a quick second before they’re glued onto your eyes again. “please don’t tell me you regret that because i don’t. not at all.”

he sounds desperate, pitiful almost, and you reach up to brush the strands of hair out of his face with a small smile. because you don’t regret it either.

“remember that no talking to me rule?” you start, seeing the way beomgyu’s lips pout in disappointment, unsure of where you’re going with this. “how about you kiss me instead?”

beomgyu doesn’t give you a second to breathe before his lips crash onto yours roughly, as if he’s been waiting for this moment for years.

and oh fuck... maybe he has.

you sigh into the kiss, reaching to the back of his neck to bring him closer to you, his body lowering onto yours. his lips are incredibly soft, his weight comforting on top of your body. his hand comes to hold your cheek gently, thumb swiping over your skin. it’s everything and more—it’s something you didn’t even know you had been waiting for.

when he pulls away from you, it’s slow and gentle. beomgyu leans down to press a few more quick kisses onto your lips, a tiny smile settling onto his face as he rolls over to the other side of the bed, pulling you into his arms. you melt into his embrace, resting your head against his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso.

“i swear to god though, gyu. your feet better not touch me,” you mumble into his chest, feeling his body rumble with laughter.

“rules are made to be broken, baby,” beomgyu speaks before his still-very-annoying foot touches yours under the sheets. you squeal in shock at his cold skin, but laughter quickly overtakes any annoyance that was bound to wind up in you.

you’ll let it slide. just this once.

reblogs are highly cherished!

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

#txt #txt imagines #txt fluff #txt smut #txt scenarios #beomgyu #beomgyu imagine #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu smut #beomgyu scenaries #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #txt x reader #txt x y/n #beom-pyu

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blorbocedes · 9 days

Note

BROCEDES! ROOMMATE AU + UNEXPECTED VIRGIN!

‘Take a shot if your body count is more than 5!’

Most of the crowd drinks, even those with obviously shifty eyes and guilty demeanours. Lewis drinks.

He was coursemates with Adrian the previous semester and had to hear his bitching and moaning about the bitches he gets – the lack thereof, spots him drinking too. Nico’s standing at the end of the couch, expensive loafers careful to step around the sticky spilled beer.

He nurses his red solo cup, untouched. Lewis frowns.

‘Take a shot if your body count is double digits!’

Fewer people drink this time. The crowd goes ‘ooh’ at the ones who do. Technically, Lewis’ is 7 – 8 if you count the blowjob and her getting her period at the last second, opting out. But college athletes have a reputation to maintain, so Lewis finishes off his cup.

This time, Nico is watching him. Smiles when their eyes meet and does a mock salute, lips still not grazing his drink.

What the fuck? What could it be? It bothers Lewis that Nico’s not being honest. He's seen Nico half-lidded hanging off some guy’s arm at a party or cuddled into some girl to know better. Although, since Nico has access to all the population instead of 50%, it would make sense if his count is twice as high.

A pretty girl in a low cut top and blonde highlights taps Lewis on the arm to dance with her, and all thoughts of his roommate and how many people he fucks are forgotten.

A few hours later, the party has died down. Cold pizza and the music is less in-your-face, more indie. A small group gather on the floor playing the laziest truth or dare with a half empty bottle of Bacardi. The guy beside Nico is in an obnoxious leather jacket and tight pants, and his hand rests on Nico’s thigh.

It falls on Lewis.

“So… Lew-iss,” Natalie? maybe asks, voice slurring a little. “Do you remember when you first met Nico?”

Nico raises an interested eyebrow. Of course he remembers. However, Lewis is aware they asked the question because people think him and Nico are secretly hooking up because they live together, and since Nico’s seen with everyone. His teammate Felipe and his girlfriend are within earshot.

“Nah, man. I don't remember shit like that. I remember when I like, lost my virginity.” Lewis offers as bait.

Nico frowns, it's cute on him. Brows wrinkled up.

Naomi(!) bites. “Tell us about how you lost your virginity.”

“That's two questions.” Lewis leans back, flashing his most charming gap-toothed smile. Everyone's too drunk to keep track of whose turn it is.

Nico disappears off with Mr. Skinny Jeans.

It's a little while later when Lewis has smoked a spliff to clear his head, rejecting the blonde highlights girl’s offer back to her dorms which is on the other side of campus, when Nico returns, hair mussed and shirt buttoned more than it was when he left.

“Home?” He asks. Lewis follows.

Nico’s a pretty chill roommate. He grew up with a silver spoon and an only child, so he has no concept of sharing. Instead, when he orders Thai, he makes sure to order for two so that Lewis doesn't try to eat any of his dumplings. Lewis gets to have the flat to himself a lot since Nico disappears for the night, returns at early hours of the night with glitter on his cheek or bite marks on his neck and a cheeky smile before collapsing on the couch. Lewis can't complain, it makes bringing girls over easier. And when Nico is studying, he keeps to himself. Lewis will know, because there will be an extra coffee for him. In turn, Lewis gets rids of the bugs in the flat – the first time Nico seeing a cockroach asking if they should call pest control or sue their landlord for unhygienic living conditions.

“Why didn't you drink? At the body count question?” Lewis asks, breaking the amiable silence of their walk home, and the lack of filter signalling he was drunker than he thought.

Nico hums thoughtfully. “Cause that would be a lie?”

Lewis tries to make sense of that, doing math in his head. “No…? It wasn't about the exact number, just if it's more than.”

“Yeah,” Nico smiles, unlocking the door and stepping side. “That would be a lie.”

Lewis rolls his eyes. Nico and his riddles and his games. “It would only be a lie if you're a virgin. Which you're not.” He snorts at the thought.

Nico’s eyes flash dangerously. “Yeah?” Nico turns around, effectively trapping Lewis between the door. “You think about who gets in my pants a lot, Hamilton?”

Lewis feels a flush rise in his neck. Thank god for melanin, if he were Nico he'd have two giant red spots on his cheek right now.

“I don't care who you sleep with. Or don't sleep with.” Lewis tries to go for gruff, chill, but it doesn't quite land. He gets out of Nico’s cornering, going to the couch. “It's just weird you’d lie considering Jenson–”

“Oh if Jenson said it, it must be true.” Nico’s sarcasm is shrill and annoyed, betraying how drunk he is.

It does make Lewis pause. Jenson has a habit of embellishing stories of his conquests. The fated twins threesome never happened, he had separately hooked up with twins. Lewis remembers Jenson bragging in the locker room how he rocked Britney’s world and Lewis had worn his his shin guards with a little more force than necessary.

“Rock my world?” Nico rolls his eyes, leaning against the wall. “Hardly. We made out for forty minutes until he came in his pants.”

TMI because now Lewis is inundated of images of Nico, mouth swollen and bodies entangled while fully clothed.

“So you're actually a virgin? What about all those people?” Lewis is still trying to wrap his head around it. Nico is the most sexual person he knows. He eats yoghurt off the spoon distractingly, and has no shame walking around the apartment naked. Very sexual liberation chic, and Lewis had to draw up boxers boundaries.

Nico wrinkles his nose. “So you get with the easiest lay on campus and you're the only person he won't fuck. Do you want to admit something's weird and wrong with you, or do you just go about inferring you had sex? It's not like I'm going to correct them.” He must see something on Lewis’ face because he interjects, defensively offensive, “Don't ask why it's better to have a reputation. I know your tells. You drank twice.”

Lewis chooses his words carefully, gentle like he's not trying to spook a wild cat. “I'm not judging. I'm just surprised. Nobody figured it out?”

Nico softens at the tone. He sinks on the couch beside Lewis. “Honestly, you're the first person to notice.”

Lewis finds that sad. “Hey, we don't need to talk about this if it's a sensitive topic. I'm sorry I –”

“Jeez, Lewis. I don't have trauma, I'm just frigid. A pricktease. Nothing bad ever happens to a Rosberg.” Nico works on the complicated laces of his boots. He hates being pitied.

Lewis leans over. “It's really not all that cracked up to be. The first time, at least. Cause you're bad at it and you don't know how to pace yourself. Lots of people wait until they're ready. My first time, it was this girl I was seeing after GCSEs. We couldn't find a place so we got in my dad’s old Subaru. Lasted like 30 seconds. Wiped the whole place down but I was convinced he would know somehow. Come Sunday, I went and told him. He hadn’t the slightest clue. So that was an awkward drive to church.”

Nico gawks him, crumpling into himself laughing. Lewis regrets being a vulnerable and oversharer of a drunk. Nico’s gelled hair has come undone from hours of partying and falls over his eyes. Lewis is never going to open up to anyone ever again.

“On God's day, Lewis?! And you think I should save myself until marriage? Find myself a nice, righteous wife?”

“Someone you trust. Someone you're into.” The room spins a little. Nico Rosberg is a virgin.

“Someone who’d remember when we first met?” Nico challenges. "That's not very nice, is it? I can't believe you forgot--"

“You were checking out an encyclopaedia on space at the library. I wanted the Senna autobiography. We were 12.”

Nico’s eyes go wide. Lewis holds his gaze.

#I love roommate aus :3 what if the object of ur desire was 1 room away and yet the distance is greater than oceans #I hope you catch all the little references. and please!!!! if you enjoy it let me know I'll lore dump #brocedes #f1 rpf #my fics #I love friendship tinged with desire. this could've gone into sex right after virgin reveal but I wanted them to be friends talking first #roommates au

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yeonjuns-beanie · 1 year

Text

Don't You Want Me?

warnings:18+, unprotected sex, jealous hongjoong, roommate au, face grabbing, roughish sex, lusty bitches, mutual pining, idiots in love, hair pulling, overstim, oral ( m & f receiving), lil possessive nothing crazy but im feeling disgusting lol, pussy slapping( once..), dirty talk, spit play,

summary: You and Hongjoong have been roommates for a while and friends for even longer. Over time he’s realized his feelings for you and now they can't be ignored. He asks you to accompany him to a release party hoping to find it within him to tell you his truths. When you get a little too close for comfort with one of his members, he decides how he’ll finally tell you.

word count: 7.4k (my bad ;-;)

a/n: this is my first time attempting Ateez, so I hope I did okay! i love feedback good or bad. also our requests are open if interested! have a great day everyone :3 ~nero

Your eyes slowly blinked open as you awoke to the sun peaking through your blinds and exasperated groans coming from across the hallway. Forcing your body to sit up, you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and begrudgingly removed yourself from your warm sheets. Walking across the hall you opened up Hongjoong’s door.

“What’s with all the noise?”

He almost didn’t notice your presence, but with the sudden extra light coming in through the door he looked up. You jutted your head forward, raising your eyebrows waiting for his response. He clicked the spacebar on his computer pausing the track he was working on.

“Huh?”

You rolled your eyes.

“I said, what’s with all the noise? I could hear you groaning in my sleep. Damn near woke me up.”

“Well, it’s almost noon so you need to be up anyway. But to answer your question, I can’t layer these tracks the way I’m hearing them in my head.”

You walked into his bedroom sitting on his bed, not wanting to stand in the doorway anymore. He turned around to face you and you pointed towards his computer motioning for him to play the track. He took his headphones out of the input and turned up the master volume on his computer. You closed your eyes listening to the track.

This was something that happened often between the two of you. Hongjoong would get frustrated with a track and you’d come in and offer your opinion cutting away at some of the edge he was feeling. As you listened to the demo he was working on you caught on immediately to the hiccup he was talking about.

“Pause..go back like 5 seconds.”

As he clicked back to where you said you let the audio play through before you told him to stop the track again. Humming the instrumental to yourself, you started thinking about how you would construct the section.

“You might not like it but what I would do is allow a little bit more space before the riser. And then maybe do some low pitch snare hits at the beginning of the riser. Right now I think there’s just too much going on and that’s why it’s not coming together.”

He turned back around in his chair and input the changes you said and rolled the track back a little bit to hear the difference. Lightly moving his head with the beat he paused the track again and turned back to you.

“How do you do it?”

“It’s 'cause I’m not the one staring at it from scratch. I’m not as frustrated with it.”

He nodded his head and swiveled the chair back around to save the file.

“I agree this sounds better but I still think something is missing. Thank you, for your help though.”

“Anytime. You know I’m right down the hall.”

You heard his laptop close and gathered yourself up from the bed.

“Can’t imagine you’ve eaten yet, wanna go grab something for lunch?”

He nodded and you went back into your room to begin getting ready. As you finished your morning routine, you walked out of the bathroom to make the change from pajamas to whatever you were planning to conjure up for an outfit. As you brought your head up from facing the floor, you felt your heart drop to your stomach and your heart skip a beat.

Hongjoong was perched perfectly on the edge of your bed watching you finish your routine.

“Jesus! Scared the shit outta me Joong. Also, get out, I have to get dressed.”

Hongjoong looked up at you, eyes lazy with intent and thoroughly unamused.

“After all these years, you still kick me out. Have you no shame?”

“Shut up, I’ll be done in a second.”

You smiled to yourself as you shook your head trying to rid yourself of the feelings bubbling back up again. It was horribly cliche, but you had a suffocating crush on your best friend. You’d never utter a word to him about it for fear of losing him or at the very least ruining the years of friendship that you created.

Jumping into your jeans, you wiggled the rest of the fabric over your hips and secured the button. You settled on a top that did wonders for your chest, rounding out your boobs and cinching your waist most slightly. Grabbing a sweater from off your floor, you sprayed yourself with perfume before heading out into the main room where Hongjoong was scrolling on his phone.

He heard your footsteps before you could come and leer over his shoulder, but if you were quick enough you would've caught him staring at a picture of the both of you. If you could read minds, you would've been privy to the extensive fairytale life he was imagining with you. As you came over, he swiped out of his photos and locked his phone.

“Ready?”

“Mhmm. Where should we go?”

Furrowing his brow, he thought about all of the food options near your apartment.

“Why don’t we go to that cute cafe down the street?”

“Oh yeah! I’ve been seeing people post all about it. It looks really cute and the food looks good.”

Nodding you both headed towards the door and began the walk to the cafe. As you guys followed the gps on your phone, you almost missed the cafe. It was hidden in plain sight. There was no real sign designated where it was, but when you stumbled in front of it you opened the comically large door to the inside. As you walked in you were met with a cottagecore dream. It was cute and cozy and you could see why everyone had been obsessed with it lately.

You guys ordered and were waiting in front of the cashier to finish typing everything in. Reaching into your purse you got ready to put your card to the reader, which had Hongjoong smacking your hand.

“Stop that.”

“But you always pay.”

“As I should y/n.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, knowing that you weren’t gonna win this time. On occasion, you were able to get him back, but he always seemed to beat you to the reader. As the cashier handed him the receipt, he told you guys that your order would be called out over the speaker in a few moments. Thanking Hongjoong timidly, you guys walked around the cafe looking for a place to sit. Settling on two chairs and a table situated under some fairy lights, you guys got comfortable.

Leaning forward on the table, you rested your chin on your hands.

“Soooo, whatcha thinking about.”

Hongjoong smiled at you lightly, a barrage of sirens sounding in his head at how cute you looked sitting across from him. If anyone on the outside were to see you two, they would easily assume that you were dating. The way you both looked at each other was so obvious you couldn’t miss it on the outside, but for some stubborn reason neither one of you could see it on the other.

Hongjoong leaned forward coming closer to you.

“Funny you should ask. I’ve been meaning to ask you this but it always left my mind.”

You raised your eyebrows, silently telling him to go on.

“So, you know how we have that release party coming up?”

You nodded, eyes layered with curiosity. Now was the time. He had been mulling over this for weeks now and it was either now or never he had to ask.

“I was thinking about it and we’re all allowed a plus one…and I would like that to be you.”

“Oh, word?”

You tried your best to seem unphased and that this would be just another ordinary outing with him, but your heart was accelerating thinking about all of the possible what-ifs of attending with him.

“Yeah. I would love for you to be there. You know you’re always there to help me out when I need it and I think it would be the perfect time to show you off.”

“Show me off?”

Your eyebrow raised, wondering what he meant by that comment. Even though there was a line of friendship between you two, it still felt nice to hear.

“Well not like show you off, ‘casue obviously were not dating but like you come up all the time and I think it would be a perfect time for the guys to meet my mini producer.”

You rolled your eyes at the compliment suddenly feeling a bit of imposter syndrome set in.

“Oh come on, you give me too much credit.”

“But you help me so much and I mean that. I’d probably be bald if I didn’t have you around.”

You paused pretending to think about your answer.

“I’d love to.”

His name was called over the speaker and he went to go grab the tray of food. As he walked away, you were fighting the biggest grin running over his words over and over. When he came back over, your stomach made its presence known with a heavy growl. You guys began to eat making mindless conversation. Everything was just so easy between you two.

As you guys were finishing up, his phone rang. Silently asking him you cleaned up the table setting the tray in its return spot. As you came back to the table he was shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“What’s up?”

“Oh nothing, they just need me at the studio to run over what’s gonna happen for the release party.”

“Oh okay, so I guess I’ll see you a little bit later?”

“Yeah, I hate to leave you but-”

“-It’s okay Joong, I need to go shopping now anyway.”

You guys began walking out of the cafe continuing your conversation.

“Shopping for what?”

“For the party genius, I don’t have anything to wear.”

Hongjoong paused, thinking about the array of outfits he’d seen you go out in before.

“Yes, you do.”

You looked at him a little confused which spurred him to continue.

“That black dress with the leg slit and the mesh center.”

He motioned towards his stomach talking about the last bit.

“But I thought you said you didn’t like that one?”

“Well, you’re gonna be with me so I can keep an eye out for you.”

There it was again. The ten thousand butterflies swarming your stomach. You knew his tendencies and how jealousy was just in his nature. He meant no harm by it, it was just that he cared about you deeply and didn’t want anyone to do you wrong. At least, that’s what he told himself to keep his sanity. He hated knowing others could gawk at you when you went out and he could do nothing about it.

“Okay you have point, and I do really like that dress.”

“So do I.”

“Shut up, you perv!”

“Hey! I’m just being honest.”

He held his hands up in defense.

“Well, anyways I still need to get some makeup but at least I don’t have to worry about an outfit.”

Hongjoong nodded to you and leaned in for a hug before pulling away in the opposite direction.

“Alright, I’ll see you later tonight. Be safe and text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

Smiling to yourself, you walked back towards your apartment, knowing that there was a drug store right around the corner. You didn’t need a lot you just really wanted a new lipliner. Before moseying over all of the colors, you started to think about what kind of makeup look you’d settle on. You picked up a deep brown liner and decided on indefinitely doing a bold red lip and you’d figure out the rest the day of.

Checking out, you walked back to your apartment, somewhat relieved to be back home. You were a homebody at heart no matter how much you claimed to love city life. Kicking off your shoes, you pulled out your phone to text Hongjoong.

Y/N: just got in

You didn’t get a response back but you did get a notification that he hearted the message. You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and wandered into your bedroom to scroll on your phone. At some point, you felt your eyelids become heavy and you drifted off.

When you woke back up, your room was shrouded in darkness and the apartment was a little colder than usual. As you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, you heard the lock on the front door turn.

“Y/n/n, you home?”

“In here.”

Your voice scratchy and your throat dry from just waking up. You saw the light in the main room flick on and heard him shuffle into your room and he switched on the overhead light in your room.

“Turn that shit off bro, it is so bright.”

“Aw did princess just wake up from her nap.”

You looked at him with narrowed eyes and huddled more underneath your blankets.

“As a matter of fact, I did. And now I’m cold and hungry.”

Hongjoong crawled up on your bed and snuck under the sheets with you wrapping his body around yours, letting his head rest on your shoulder.

“You know, body heat is the best way to warm up.”

“And so is turning on the heat.”

“Okay lemme turn it on then.”

As he went to get up from the bed, stopped him by leaning back into him.

“No, don’t, the body thing is working. How was the studio stuff?”

Hongjoong smiled to himself, and with him behind you, you couldn’t see how wide it was beginning to spread.

“It was alright. A little stressful but we got everything figured out.”

You nodded and you nuzzled more into him. You turned your head to face him as best you could.

“By the way, when is the release party again?”

“Tomorrow.”

You whipped your head around, eyes wide, dramatizing your reaction to his answer.

“Well, at least you told me today, might’ve had a stroke if you told me tomorrow.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You love it.”

You were cut off by your stomach growling against Hongjoong’s hand that was resting against it. You both laughed as you looked at each other completely surprised by how loud it was. As you went through your list of options you both decided that it would be more satisfying to cook something at home. Hongjoong got out of your bed first and as you heard the clanging of pots in the kitchen you found yourself wandering after him. As you guys helped each other with dinner, you couldn’t help but relish in the domestic feeling you were feeling with him. Unbeknownst to you, he was feeling the exact same thing. Finishing up cooking you guys decided on something to watch before eating in comfortable silence.

You excused yourself to go through your night routine. When you finished you walked back out to the main room and noticed Hongjoong wasn’t in there anymore. Shuffling to his room, you peeked through his cracked door and saw him posted up in front of his computer again, his headphones sitting around his neck.

“You need help with anything?”

He looked up at you with such a soft look you couldn’t help but fall even deeper into the grave you were digging.

“Huh? No, I’m okay actually. Thanks for checking in.”

“Okie, I think I’m gonna head to bed.”

“See you in the morning.”

He smiled at you before putting his headphones back on. You gently shut his door and walked down the hall to your room where you snuggled up against your stuffed animals and fell into a deep sleep quickly.

When you woke up the next morning, your stomach was in knots suddenly nervous with the idea of meeting the rest of his members and attending the party in general. As you opened your phone you finally saw the time and almost flew out of the bed. Opening your door you saw Hongjoong fixing himself something to eat.

“What time do we have to leave tonight?”

“Like 5ish, why?”

You finally took a regulated breath and calmed yourself down. Pulling yourself out of the panicked state that you found yourself in fresh out of sleep.

“Okay good. You know I need 7 years to get ready, I thought I woke up way too late.”

“You should eat something before you make yourself go crazy in the bathroom though.”

Agreeing you fixed yourself some cereal and then waddled back into your bedroom flopping on your bed, the task of getting ready seemed so incredibly daunting now that you had to do it. You checked the time and it was only 1:30pm. Giving yourself half an hour to dick around, you figured you could get ready in three hours.

Once your precious thirty minutes expired, you groaned the entire way into the bathroom. After brushing your teeth, you turned on the shower gathering all your necessary products. Grabbing your face wash last and throwing on a shower cap, you begin the extensive process that was showering. After you finish your shower, you moisturized your body, and put on your undergarments and a dressing robe.

Before starting your makeup, you grabbed your speaker from your bedroom, turned on some music, and started the painstaking process of making sure your entire face was symmetrical. Deciding on a smokey liner for your eyes, you made sure everything was even.

Before you knew it, the sky outside began to change colors, the hues reflecting into your room turning much warmer than when you started getting ready. You checked your phone and the time read 4:32pm. You took a breath realizing that you still had time. Lining your lips and filling them in with your favorite red lipstick, you rubbed them together, blending the two products. Satisfied with your look you slipped off your robe and left it on the bathroom floor.

Sliding through your racks of hangers, you found the dress you were looking for. Heading back into the bathroom you slipped into the dress, fighting with the fabric as you pulled it over your hips. As you pulled the straps up over your shoulders, you situated your boobs so that they sat higher creating the perfect cleavage. You played with the slit on the dress cinching it a little higher up your leg.

You gave yourself a once over, loving the way the dress hugged your curves before heading back into your room to grab your jewelry pieces. You settled on a small, silver Cuban link necklace that Hongjoong gifted you for your birthday one year, small dangly silver earrings, and a few rings adoring your fingers. Grabbing a clutch and your black, pointed pumps from your closet, you sat in the main room waiting for Hongjoong to come out.

As you sat on the couch he called out for you.

“Y/n! Are you ready?”

“Yup! Just gotta slip my shoes on.”

As you wiggled your feet into your heel, you heard Hongjoong’s shoes clicking from the hallway. He was clad in a pair of ripped blue jeans, a white dress shirt, and a black and white cropped and frayed jacket. You thought he was attractive before but staring at him dressed up had you at a loss for words. When he lifted his head from the floor and his eyes landed on your figure, he couldn’t help but widen his eyes and be in awe of you. If he wasn’t completely smitten with you before, he surely was now.

“You, you look great Y/N.”

“Can say the same for you Joongie.”

He felt his heart melt. Whenever you called him that he couldn’t help but be whipped for you, he wanted you all for him and now he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to share you with everyone else. His thoughts were running wild with nothing but you in them. Your voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Should we get going?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Walking to the parking lot by your apartment, Hongjoong opened the passenger door for you before letting himself in. The drive to the venue was a little silent except for the music coming through his speakers. You were wracked with nerves and were honestly a little more than nervous about the event.

“Y/n, why are you so nervous?”

“Wha-, I’m not nervous!”

“You’ve been silent the whole ride, cmon I know you.”

You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hide your feelings.

“I don’t know, I guess I just don’t wanna mess anything up for you.”

He looked over at you as he pulled into the venue parking lot.

“Everything is gonna be fine. Besides, when have you ever messed anything up for me?”

“Well, there was that one time-

“-Something serious.”

You were silenced knowing he was right. You took another breath and didn’t even realize Hongjoong had already come to open your door.

“Thank you.”

As you walked to the entrance, Hongjoong had his hand on your lower back keeping you close to him. Walking into the building, there were neon lights everywhere, an array of people, Ateez’s music blasting through the overhead speakers, and of course, you picked out immediately the seven other men you were destined to meet. San noticed Hongjoong first, waving his hand to come toward the group.

You had a large grin on your face, masking your conglomerate portrait of emotions.

“Hongjoong! And I’m assuming this is the special lady we’ve all been hearing about?”

You held your hand out towards San and introduced yourself.

“Y/n, it’s nice to meet you!”

San gently moved your hand away and pulled you into a hug.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you! Hyung here is constantly talking about you.”

Whom you would later find out was Wooyoung, made his presence known by shouting over the music and commenting on how you looked next to his friend.

“Hongjoong! You didn’t tell us she was taller than you too!”

You smiled and chuckled to yourself, feeling slight steam come off of Hongjoong.

“It’s just my shoes!”

San dragged you to the rest of the group to introduce you to everyone to which you realized you had nothing to worry about. All of them were so inviting and greeted you with a near bone-crushing hug. There was someone who stuck out from the rest though.

Seonghwa.

The way his gaze lingered on you, you noticed it from when you walked in and when you were pulled so close to him, his touch loitered on your skin a little bit longer from the rest.

You had to admit everyone single one of them was attractive in their own right and perhaps this is exactly what you needed to get over your little massive crush on your best friend. As the night went on, you got along with everyone so smoothly. The conversation never seemed to have an end.

Every time you spoke though you found Seonghwa’s eyes fixated on you, something Hongjoong noticed as well. You looked around for the bar, desperate for some alcohol in your system to maybe find some courage to approach his leering gaze with the same confidence. Seonghwa noticed this and came closer to you leaning to your ear so he didn’t have to shout.

“You want to go grab a drink?”

“Uh yeah actually. Joong do you want anything?”

Hongjoong’s eyes were cold as he looked towards Seonghwa but softened his expression as best as he could as he turned back to you.

“Yeah, I’ll just come with you guys.”

As you three went to get up Yunho grabbed Hongjoong’s attention.

“Hyung! Wait. We have to go over that prompt before you do anything. You have to give that speech here in a moment.”

His shoulders hunched coming to terms that he had to do his job first before catering to his bubbling emotions. You turned back to him before walking off with Seonghwa to the bar.

“You want your usual?”

He nodded and you and Seonghwa made light conversation over to the bar while you were waiting for the drinks to be made. When the conversation died down a bit, Seonghwa felt that this was the perfect moment to ask.

“So I have to know, are you and Hongjoong a thing? Or is that just him being possessive?”

“It’s definitely just him being him. Ever since we met he’s always been a little bit protective of me. But to answer your question, no we’re not together.”

“He definitely acts like your his.”

“Yeah no, just friends.”

He nodded leaving the conversation there and with perfect time all three of the drinks were finished as well. You walked back to where everyone was congregating and gave Hongjoong his drink. His gaze was still hard but you couldn’t quite figure out why. The music faded out and a light targeted its way to where all of Ateez was sitting. Hongjoong gave his speech and you were nothing but enamored with him.

The way the light was hitting his face, his outfit, the way he carried himself with such elegance talking about his pride and joy. As you were standing off to the side soaking him in, Seonghwa was doing the same thing with you. Drinking you in with every second that he could. When Hongjoong finished his speech, the music faded back in and you looked back over toward the group. Seonghwa with his newfound information about your single status had to seize this opportunity.

As Hongjoong was preoccupied with his members, Seonghwa sneaked off to you.

“Wanna dance?”

“Sure, why not?”

He pulled you down to the dance floor where some other people had the same idea. Feeling the music you swayed with the beat and smiled up toward Seonghwa. As the song faded out, you finished your drink and told him you were going to go grab another. He followed you not wanting to leave you alone. As you guys walked back to the main floor you continued dancing with each other. Seonghwa leaned down to you again.

“You know he’s in love with you right?”

His comment caught you off guard and you sipped your drink.

“What do you mean?”

“If you were to see him from my angle…he wishes he could strike me down right now.”

“Wait turn me so we swap spots, I want to see.”

You did just that but Seonghwa made sure to add a little extra to your turn. When your eyes spotted where the group was sitting you saw how silent Hongjoong was. The way his gaze was now directed towards the both of you.

He was pissed.

You almost felt bad but at the same time, you desperately begged any god that was listening that this would pan out in your favor.

“Wrap your hands around my neck.”

You furrowed your brows

“Just do it.”

In beat with the song that was playing you slowly wrapped your arms around his neck.

“My next question is, do you feel the same way about him? And I already know the answer I just wanna see if you’ll lie to me.”

Seonghwa smirked at you.

“So much so that it’s excruciating to think about.”

As the two of you swayed you talked about your crush.

“Well Y/n, looks like this is your lucky night, 'cause here he comes.”

You felt a hand grace your back and you turned around to face Hongjoong. He tried his damnedest to hide his hardening feelings from you because they were truly directed at Seonghwa.

“I’m not feeling too well I think we should head home.”

“Oh! Okay, do you need me to do anything.?”

He shook his head and you sucked down the rest of your drink throwing the cup in the nearest trashcan.

“Let me just say goodbye to everyone.”

You walked over to the rest of the boys hugging everyone goodbye. When you went to hug Wooyoung, he pulled you a little closer so he could whisper in your ear.

“Hope you know your man is pissed and I hope you get the best sex out of this.”

Your mouth hung open, surprised by his boldness. You pulled away from him lightly smiling.

“He’s not my man Woo.”

“Well, he’s been acting like it! Good luck y/n.”

He laughed and you suddenly felt your nerves settle in your stomach as you walked back over to Hongjoong. Hugging Seonghwa goodbye and began to walk off with Hongjoong.

“Don't forget to text me y/n/n!”

You turned around and waved towards Seonghwa, confused for only a moment before you understood that he was egging Hongjoong on. Hongjoong picked up his speed and borderline was pulling you out of the venue. When you got to the car he opened the door for you but the drive was viciously silent. His knuckles were gripping against the steering wheel turning a forced shade of white.

His breathing was heavy and slow and you felt like if you said anything it would be like poking a stick at an angry bear. You couldn’t bear the silence anymore though so you spoke up.

“Joongie…are you okay?”

He didn’t answer you. You were only a few minutes away from home so when he pulled into the apartment complex you felt a bit of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to have that question linger in the air.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I did to upset you but whatever it was I’m sorry.”

The air was heavy, suffocating even. Your timid voice dissipated immediately into the tension he was spewing into the air. He got out of the car and walked around to open your door, but started walking a bit ahead of you. You both stepped into your apartment door and you let him in first, locking the door behind you both as you took off your shoes.

“That’s what you call it?”

You almost didn’t hear him, but you didn’t want to make him more upset by having him repeat himself. You didn’t have to ask though, the time you took to respond had him wired up enough.

“I said, that’s what you call it? Not knowing whatever it was.”

“Joongie I can’t know what you're so upset about if you don’t tell me.”

“Don’t ‘Joongie’ me and don’t act like you don’t know. You let him all over you all night and I just had to sit there and watch!”

You paused.

“This is about Seonghwa?”

“No, it’s about Jongho, c’mon y/n you’re smarter than that.”

His tone was frustrating you to no end. He was chastising you for no real reason. It wasn’t like you were dating so why was he treating you as such? You loved him you knew that much but every time someone so much glanced at you, you had to deal with some sort of small outburst like this.

“Joong it’s not like we’re dating, I don’t understand why this is bothering you so much.”

“Because you’re mine y/n! You’ve always been mine! And every time I have to sit back and watch you possibly find the feelings that I feel for you in someone else it drives me up the fuckin wall. I can’t stand seeing you with someone else and I-”

“-Hongjoong I-”

“No! Let me finish. If I have nothing at least I can have the peace of knowing that you finally know.”

Your heart was in your ears. You felt like you were underwater and slowly watching yourself begin to drown. He was confessing and you didn’t know whether to feel overjoyed or scared at the thought that everything you wished for was happening at such an intensity.

“And I love you. I can’t watch you hold somebody else when I love you with a passion that suffocates me while I sleep. If you don’t feel the same way, I understand but I can’t keep living without you knowing.”

Now it was your turn to be silent. You stared at him like a deer in headlights unable to form a response for him.

“Well don’t just stand there, say something! Please.”

You went to open your mouth but nothing came out.

“Oh, fuck it.”

Hongjoong walked over to you, clearing the short distance that was between you two. His hands encased your face and his lips covered yours. Your eyes blew wide for only a second before relaxing completely into his touch. You returned the kiss with equal fervent, curling your nails into the nape of his neck. His kiss became more urgent and he bit at your lip pulling it with him as he pulled away.

He looked at you trying to read your features. Your eyes were glistening with a mixture of lust and love and there was heat you could feel rushing to your face as you gazed back at him. Lust was evident in his eyes but none of the hardness that he was harbouring earlier. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you want me?”

His tone was pleading, his eyebrows curling upwards. Everything about him begging to hear a similar response from you. When you finally spoke his heart began to beat again.

“Hongjoong, I’ve wanted you since I met you and I don’t know how you missed all my signs. But I swear if you don’t take me now I’ve got a text message to send.”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you down the hallway into his bedroom. He pulled your body close to his once again, pressing his lips firmly against yours. His hand fingered its way through your hair and he grabbed a fistful of it. A weak moan left your mouth and he pulled you away from his.

“I don’t ever want to hear you say his name again.”

You carded your hands through his Styx colored hair, smirking up at him.

“Make me forget it then.”

It wasn’t a growl, but it was a sound that reverberated in the depth of his chest before he pushed you onto the bed. You scooted more towards the center of the bed as Hongjoong crawled over you. His lips attacked your jawline, trailing down to your neck where he began sucking crimson marks distinctive to him, claiming you for anyone to see.

His hands traveled down to your breasts and he played with your nipples through the fabric of your dress as he continued his assault on your skin.

“Hongjoong please.”

“Oh, now you wanna beg me? What happened to that text message, hmm?”

“I don’t, I just want you. Only you. Please.”

He chuckled against the space where your neck and shoulders connect, the warmth of his breath sending goosebumps up your body. He raised himself on his hands looking you in the eyes. His hand came up to caress your face, his thumb grazing across your bottom lip. You opened up your mouth so that his thumb slipped in and you began sucking on it. Your eyes glazed over in lechery. Your hands trailed down his body and rested on the hem of his jeans, hooking your fingers into his belt loops bringing him closer.

He removed his thumb from your mouth and went back to teasing your nipple. You whined, attempting to writhe your body against him.

“Open.”

It took you a second to register his words, but you looked up at him with wondrous eyes and opened your mouth slowly.

“Wider.”

Nothing would’ve prepared you for the wad of spit he aimed in your mouth nor the asphyxiating grip your pussy reacted with. You swallowed without any command and opened your mouth again for another take.

“Wanna know how I know you’re mine? I didn’t have to tell you to do that. You’re just filthy enough to take whatever I want to give you, isn’t that right, baby?” The pet name had you squirming. The ring it had coming from his mouth had you wanting to cling to him for the rest of time. He snaked down your body and bunched up the skirt of your dress so he could easily remove you from your underwear. He dragged his finger between your slit, gathering not even a fraction of your arousal. The pad of his finger gently swiped over your clit and your body jumped due to the sensitivity.

“Aw, is my girl a little sensitive?”

You mewled out, words not forming correctly in your mind.

“Is this all for me y/n?”

“Mhmm”

You writhed against him hoping that it was enough to satisfy him. The slap against your pussy led you to believe otherwise. You moaned out and pushed yourself to your elbows to look down at Hongjoong.

“I said, is this all for me?” “Yes, yes, yes! It’s all for you Joongie. Fuck it’s always you~ah!”

He swiped his tongue up your slit ringing your precious little bell with his hellish tongue. He pushed your legs further apart and his fingers toyed with your entrance.

“You want it?”

“Hongjoong, please! I want you to do whatever you want. Make me yours.”

You whined out finding it harder and harder to keep your composure. Hongjoong entered two fingers into your decadent cunt, your warmth wrapping around him like a tender blanket. His tongue kept a perfervid pace on your clit, bringing you dangerously close to your edge.

“Hongjoong, I-I’m gonna.”

You were panting, your words barely forming enough to be heard. Hongjoong took your affirmation and used it against you, pulling his fingers and his tongue away from your heat. You whined and writhed against him, in clear distress from the lack of him.

You got up and he pushed you back down with a searing kiss. The taste of you, tart and something faintly sweet on your tongue. You pushed back against him and you rolled him over so that he was lying on his back now. You kissed him on his jawline and bit at his ear, pulling gently at the skin. You moved off the bed and shimmied out of your dress, presenting all of your glory in front of him. You crawled back up on the bed and unbuttoned his pants pulling them down his legs.

“I want you in my mouth so bad.”

He lifted himself from the bed, removing his jacket and throwing it somewhere in his room. You fumbled with the buttons on his dress shirt, but you needed to see all of him. With the final button undone, he threw that behind the both of you and your attention was back on the bulge fighting against the fabric of his underwear.

Slowly pulling them down, you dropped them off the bed and eyeballed his length.

“Can I?”

“Don’t let me stop you, baby.”

You let a glob of spit fall onto his head before you licked him up from base to tip. Hollowing out your cheeks you found praise in the frequency of his moans. You twisted your tongue around his shaft as you bobbed up and down his length. When you looked up at him he was already staring you down.

“Fuck, y/n! You’re so good. You’re so so good.”

You picked up your pace, intent on making him cum and making him cum quick. His moans became louder almost turning into whines. He sucked the spit through his teeth and tried to calm himself down.

“Baby, baby, slow down I’m gonna cum.”

But you weren’t listening, you had no intent to. Hongjoong wrapped his hand in your hair and pulled you off of him.

“You don’t listen do you?” “Maybe you should teach me how.”

You smiled completely fucked out, your mouth swiped with saliva.

“Get on your back.”

His tone was domineering and you love every drop of it. He brought himself down to your nipple sucking on the tender skin. You moaned out needing more from him.

“Joongie, please. I need you inside of me. I need to know what you feel like.”

Your eyes were pleading, you truly needed nothing more in this moment. He lined himself up with your entrance before teasing you and sliding his hot and needy cock between your folds.

“Joong please, don’t tease me~ugh!”

He filled you up so nicely. You could feel every inch of him and the stretch you felt from his size was indescribably delicious. He started with long, slow strokes allowing you to feel every bit of him. Your hands found refuge on his back, your nails leaving red marks of ardor in their wake.

“More. I need more Hongjoong.”

He picked up his pace but it still wasn’t enough for you. You needed him to be rougher with you, you needed him to claim you and make you never forget where home was. You grabbed his face with both of your hands and forced him to look directly into your sex-blown eyes.

“Joong, I need you to fuck me like you mean it.”

Something in him broke. His dam of reservations crumbling with your words. He wanted to be sweet with you and forget about the earlier moments of the evening. But with every bratty comment that left your lips, he simply couldn’t. He flipped you on your hands and knees and began pounding you from behind. The cry that left your mouth was one of pure pleasure. You could feel him hitting the parts of you that made you insatiable.

The tip of his cock was bruising your g-spot leaving you in a sex drunken stupor.

“Who’s pussy is this?”

“You~ah!”

“Who’s pussy is this y/n? I’m not asking again”

“It’s your’s Hongjoong! Fuck it’s always been yours, baby.”

Tears were welling up in your eyes from the pleasure you were feeling.

“Hongjoong baby, I’m gonna cum!”

“Cream all over my cock baby, let me feel how good I make you feel.”

That’s all you needed to be sent over the edge. His cock was making you dizzy with lust and you didn’t know if you needed a rest or more of him. Hongjoong already made that decision for you though, fucking through and after your orgasm, wildly overstimulating you.

It was almost too much to handle and you started crawling away from his pistoning hips. Hongjoong grabbed your hips and pulled you even closer to his fiery drives of pleasure.

“Stop running. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To fuck you like I mean it.”

He leaned over you pressing your head into the mattress. His thrusts became more erratic and rougher and you could feel his cock begin to twitch against your seraphic walls.

“y/n, where do you want me?” “Fuckin hell, inside of me Hongjoong. I don’t wanna forget who I belong to. Fill me up please, Joongie.”

His cum shot out of him at a rate that even surprised him. It colored your walls, making its own rapturously beautiful painting. You were now his color and couldn’t ask for anything more. You flopped down on the bed, your body spent from the adrenaline you were banking on. Hongjoong kissed your cheek and spoke against your skin, his breath sending chills up your spine again.

“You’re mine, baby. Now, wait here, I’ll be right back.”

You didn’t plan on moving, completely spent from the moments prior. Hongjoong came back into the room with a warm cloth and cleaned you up as gently as he could. Not wanting to cause you any discomfort. He left the rag on the floor and climbed up next to you and you wrapped your body around him resting your head on his stomach.

“Say the words.”

He looked down at you.

“What words?”

“What do you want me to be to you?”

“My girl.”

You paused looking up at him giving him the most obvious of hints.

“Will you?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

You sat up and looked at Hongjoong.

“Are you hungry?”

“How’d you know?”

“Well, we didn’t really eat at the party or before we left and it’s now…11 at night.”

You both chuckled and you looked at him thinking of what would be open this late and still be good.

“Pizza?”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, you order I’m gonna go pee.”

When you looked at yourself in the mirror you felt a sense of relief and pride wash over you. Your post-sex glow gave you something else to gawk at besides the fact that it was this timeline where you would get to be with the one person you thought you could never have.

#ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #hongjoong smut #hongjoong fanfic #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong x reader #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong

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whorergal · 1 year

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SHE'S MINE (PART TWO)

summary: after you've been attacked, the group becomes cautious and confused, now being targeted as well. but you still can't get over the fact that ghostface had helped you and why you think you know who it may be. and maybe you wouldn't mind keeping a secret.

warnings: scream vi spoilers, language (cussing), blood, gore. it follows the plot loosely.

pairings: ethan landry x fem!reader

authors note: hiiii i really hope u enjoy :-) also i have no idea if mindy shared the apartment with tara, sam and quinn but if she didn’t, we're just going to pretend she does and i also altered ethan's motive a bit too for this (lowkey was inspired by don't blame me by taylor swift so if you like listening to music when reading, i recommend that song for this part)

❗️: you can find part one here and part three here if you need it :3

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The hospital visit wasn't as long as you anticipated. Two of the stabs you endured hadn't cut deep so they were able to stitch it upon your first visit and they closed up that same night—it still hurt like a bitch. Your previous stab wound was the worst one overall as the stitching process was a lot more painful because your skin was sensitive as it had been punctured once before.

When you were released, Sam took you under her care. She didn't feel safe having you and Anika alone in your apartment since the attack so she offered her, Tara, Mindy and Quinn's home to you two. It didn't really matter for Anika as she was always there in the first place but it bothered you.

You didn't mean to feel unappreciative but you hated being controlled by useless fear. Whether or not Ghostface attacked you in your home, he would find them someway or another; it didn't matter where you were. But, you agreed in order to clear her conscious.

They didn't ask much questions when you were in the hospital. After the second Ghostface left the apartment, you remembered blacking out and waking up in the hospital bed with Anika by your side. The doctor wouldn't let anyone come in since you were preparing for surgery but decided to let Anika stay since she was your roommate.

Her story was that your security system she had built when you two first moved in had went off when the second Ghostface broke in. Her and Mindy didn't tell everyone before leaving because they didn't want to risk not making it in time. The frat house was only a block down so they just ran their way to your building, ultimately finding your unconscious body on the kitchen floor.

Anika told you that they had met Ethan at the entrance of the building when the ambulance was called and said you called him, which was true but you wondered what took him so long. You were highly suspicious of him but you didn't want to be because he was your best-friend, you couldn't imagine him having anything to do with this.

Ever since that night, he was around, a lot. He even skipped his Econ classes to keep you company because Sam didn't want you to be alone and everyone else was busy.

You didn't ask him about what happened. You were afraid of what the outcome would be. But you knew you had to do something in order to understand. At least interrogating the truth out of him (because he couldn't lie to you) would give you peace of mind—well, depending on the answer.

"You don't have to be here, you know." You broke the silence, watching him write notes from the lecture he was missing.

"But I want to be," he told you honestly.

"E, you're missing Econ. You have an exam this week."

"I'll be fine, don't worry." He looked up from his notebook, putting the lecture video on pause to give you his full attention. "I don't want anything to happen to you again."

"Ghostface rarely attacks in the daytime," you joked.

"Still, Y/N/N." He was being serious. "Your stitches haven't even fully healed yet."

"This isn't the first time." You sighed. "Plus, Ghostface never attacks the same person twice."

"Says who?"

"Says Mindy."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I don't want to take any chances."

It went back to comfortable silence. You went back to reading your book for your English class while he continued to write his notes. After a couple more minutes, you decided to ask the question that had been eating you alive.

"What took you so long?" you asked randomly.

He furrowed his brows, turning to look at you. "What do you mean?"

"When I was attacked," you clarified. "I called you and you said you and Chad were on the way. Anika and Mindy beat you to it and Chad wasn't even with you when you arrived."

Ethan looked away, his face becoming pale. "Well, I went to go find Chad when you were on the call but I couldn't find him so I decided to leave. I didn't realize how much time I wasted until I saw police lights outside your building."

That was the first and final conversation you two had about it. You gathered what you knew from it but, again, you didn't want to believe he was Ghostface. Unless he wasn't and used the costume to throw the other one off. But where could he buy a replica of it that quickly and still be able to make it in time to save you? It didn't make sense.

You kept this realization to yourself. You felt guilty for it, especially because if he was apart of the plan in harming your friends, this smudge of proof could be enough to hold him accountable before it was taken too far. Of course, you didn't listen to yourself and decided to keep his secret that he wasn't even sure you knew because of how much you liked him.

On the third day of your recovery, your stitching was finally beginning to heal. It hurt to bend down and sometimes walk because it worked the muscles underneath the wound but you couldn't stand doing nothing anymore.

You made the excuse that you were planning to meet Ethan at his dorm for the night because you promised to help him with Econ. Sam wasn't exactly keen on the idea, wondering why he couldn't come to meet you here but you told her you were beginning to feel claustrophobic and wanted to get out. She didn't say much in defense and reluctantly agreed.

They all offered to walk you there just in case something were to happen but you brushed them off. If your assumption about Ethan was correct, he wouldn't let anything happen to you.

The subway was packed because it was nearing Halloween and it took you awhile to finally make it inside one. And the thirty minute ride to campus added onto the time. It was around twelve at night when you arrived at his dorm.

First, you decided to knock. Nobody answered. Then you remembered he had an Econ lecture to attend for the night and took out the extra key he had given you awhile ago and unlocked it yourself.

Honestly, you were glad he wasn't there because it would make your digging a lot more easier.

You searched through everything he owned. Through his drawers (which you highly regretted), under his bed, inside some of his unpacked bags—everywhere but you couldn't find anything that incriminated him.

It had been what felt like hours, but was really only thirty minutes, when you gave up. Your phone was going off but you didn't pay any mind to it because the group had consistently texted you ever since your attack; you just assumed it was them checking up on you and then getting paranoid because you weren't answering. Even if you knew you should've checked, you didn't bother as you were going to head back to the apartment anyway.

You quietly snuck out of the room, making sure the coast was clear until you turned your head to the left and saw Ghostface, waiting there for you. When you tried to scream, they grabbed your face with their hand, restricting your voice from releasing.

They were strong, being able to grab your entire body with their one arm and toss you carelessly back into the room.

You hit the floor, wincing at the impact because of your stitches. Ghostface shut the door behind them, looking down at you. They stalked toward you very slowly as you made sure to keep your distance from them.

Using the dresser that stood behind you, you lifted yourself up with your available arm as the other clutched your stitching instinctively to keep you balanced. It was a silent stare-down until they reached for their mask, untucking it from the behind. Then, they pulled it off.

You stared in shock. "…Ethan?"

"Y/N." He didn't have much expression on his face. He looked out of breath as you could see sweat shimmering on his face from the lighting.

"Oh, my god," You breathed out. Although you suspected him this whole time, finally being able to know it was the truth hurt you more than being stabbed. "You're Ghostface."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ethan ignored your statement as he furrowed his brows.

"I knew it. I knew you were the one who saved me," you confessed. "That's why I'm here."

"You shouldn't be here," he told you, shaking his head.

"You're trying to kill me and our friends and you're telling me what I shouldn't be doing?!"

"Y/N, there's more to this than you know."

"That much is obvious," you snapped. He tried to step toward you but you backed up. "Stay away from me."

"Please, just listen to me," Ethan began to plead.

"You let them attack me!"

"No, I didn't!" he declared, lowering his voice when he saw it made you flinch. "They promised to leave you out of it. That was the only thing I told them to do."

"They?" you repeated in confusion.

He thought over his response for a second. "Look, what I'm doing—what I've done—is for a good reason. You have to understand."

You furrowed your brows. "What have you done, E?" You couldn't help but use his nickname; you couldn't help but try to hear him out.

"Y/N." He walked toward you slowly and this time, you didn't back away from him. "You're the only thing I care about. If it means I have to kill a thousand people to keep you safe, then I'd do it."

"I don't understand." Your voice was almost a mumble.

"I agreed to do this before I met you but when I did, it all changed. I-I tried to convince them to stop. I wanted to try and be good—for you but she found out and threatened to kill you if I didn't continue with the plan so I did with the exception that they would leave you out of it," he explained softly. "I did this…for you."

You looked at him like he was insane (he kind of was). "You'd kill our friends?"

"If it meant that you'd be safe."

His words didn't completely register but when they did, you couldn't help but feel guilty. You had a crush on him for so long and here he was, basically confessing his love for you in such a fucked up way. You hated yourself for finding him even more attractive after hearing him say those words.

"Ethan…" you whispered his name.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked. "Can I please kiss you?"

You didn't give him an answer as you closed the space between the two of you.

It seemed wrong—no, it was wrong. Kissing him while he still wore the Ghostface robe, one that he wore while taking someone's life.

You knew he wasn't wearing this costume for fun. They only ever wore it for a purpose. Even though your mind was totally blanked because of how dumb his lips made you, when you pulled apart, you began to think about where he had come from and who he had just killed and why you weren't more concerned about the matter.

He chased after your lips, kissing you again with more force this time, even pulling you closer by the waist. You only pulled away because you were receiving a call.

You pulled your phone out from your pocket, the reality setting in when you saw Sam's contact. He looked down with you, not doing much in keeping you from answering. It took you a couple more seconds of contemplating until you decided to click the green button, putting the phone to your ear.

You took a deep breath before answering. "Hello?"

"Y/N, what the hell?!" Sam hollered into the speaker, her voice mixed with relief and annoyance. "Why weren't you answering? Are you okay?!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you replied rather nonchalantly. "I had my phone off. What's wrong, Sam?"

There was a short beat. "Ghostface attacked us."

You furrowed your brows, glancing at Ethan. "What?"

"Yeah, he killed Quinn and…"

"And?" you repeated instantly. "Who else, Sam?"

"Anika…" Sam's voice was barely above a whisper. "Y/N, I'm so sorry. I-I tried to help her."

You shut your eyes, feeling tears starting to build. There was silence on the line and you were sure it was because Sam didn't want to say anything knowing you would be taking her death as personal as Mindy did.

Suddenly, your stab wounds began to throb which made you let out a grunt. You knew better than to cry over Anika only because it would achieve nothing. Yes, it was messed up that you were now standing in the room with her murderer, watching him undress himself of his black robe that he wore while killing her but you realized nothing you could've said or done—whether you got to him before she died—could've changed her outcome.

You watched him pull out a hunting knife from his back pocket, the silver glistening with dried blood. That blood probably belonged to Anika and Quinn. It made your throat go dry.

"Sam," you blurted quietly.

"What, Y/N?"

You were going to say it; tell her the truth. It was the right thing to do. Ethan, even if you liked him a lot, had just murdered your best friend and one of Sam's. They deserved the justice of their murderer being caught.

But when he walked back over to you, his eyes scanning your expression, you had already picked your choice.

"Y/N, what? Are you okay?" Sam's voice echoed in your mind.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just…" You tried to find the words. "Is everyone else okay? Did you get hurt?"

"We're fine. Mindy got cut but she's fine," Sam answered softly. "Can you come down here? I'd feel a lot better if you were here with us. Plus, I'm sure you can comfort Mindy than the rest of us. She doesn't want to be anywhere near Tara or Chad."

You let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. Ethan and I are on our way."

"Ethan?" she questioned.

"Yeah. Remember I told you I was going to meet him at his dorm? I was with him the whole night," you lied.

"Oh, okay." Sam sighed into the speaker. "That's good to hear, actually. Mindy thinks Ethan was the one behind all of this but if you were with him then it checks him out."

"Don't worry, Sam," you said. "We'll be there shortly."

"Okay, see you soon. Be safe."

You nodded, even though she couldn't see you and then hung up.

"You kept my secret?" Ethan asked.

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have. You killed Anika and Quinn."

He bit his lip, nodding calmly. "I know, I know. It wasn't exactly my first choice. But I had to for saving you the other night."

"Yeah, I know," you mumbled. "But did you mean it?"

"Mean what?" He furrowed his brows.

"What you said about wanting to be good?" You repeated his words. "Because that's the only reason I saved your ass. I should hate you. You killed Anika."

"Y/N/N," he said softly, walking over to grab your hands. "I only did this to protect you. They made me think my original motive was right but it's actually fucked up. I realized that the moment I met you. So, yes, I do mean it. And I'm sorry about Anika. I didn't really want to do it either."

You mulled over his words, looking down at your connected hands until you finally spoke. "Okay. Then, I'll help you," you informed him. "But, in order for me to do that, I need to know everything."

Let's just say it was an interesting conversation.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry imagine #jack champion #scream imagine #scream vi imagine #ethan landry x y/n

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pulpbeing · 8 months

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omg i had a flashback to your post w kaveh admitting hes jealous of haitham and he was like "knew it" and you said smth abt bullying kaveh. punishing al haitham whos so addicted to your cock by tying him up to a chair with a vibrator inside of him and a rod in his dick as you rail kaveh infront of him. kaveh crying from how good he feels, resting his head against al haithams thighs and gripping his calf tightly and haitham whos so red from embarassment and lowley anger. hes starting to regret being kind of mean to kaveh (not his fault his roommate is so easy to bully.) he wants your cock railjng him and making him feel so good that hes starting to cry, he wants to be in kavehs place SOOOO bad he wants you inside of him too he wants to cum on your dick but instead has to watch his roommate being touched everywhere that you used to touch him too, making the blond mewl and cry and cum all over him. he doesnt want to apologize, hes done nothing wrong! but if it means that he could have what kavehs having...

@pantalonte

i just know alhaitham crying is almost worth forgiving him for, but you're too far into railing kaveh to really stop- why would you stop? alhaitham trembling, begging, is a sight for sore eyes, pale and unmarked skin reddened by his cherry-red flush that oh so perfectly contrasts against the green of his eyes and the cold, silver of the rod that's almost forgotten when all of your attention is on the babbling blond in front of you.

god, i can only imagine how pretty kaveh would look like that. he isn't just crying, he's sobbing from the overwhelming, unending pleasure you're giving him, it almost hurts but he can't help but try to stutter out his pleads for more. i doubt he even remembers alhaitham being what he's resting his head on, maybe he even forgot his own name between his babbling of your own. money problems? rent? his bitch of a landlord? his pretty head's too empty to think, too cockdrunk from how long you've been pounding into him. honestly, he deserves it for working so hard! those all-nighters and "lectures" from alhaitham were worth it in his eyes when that means he's finally getting some action from such a handsome traveller like you <333

but really, don't forget alhaitham! maybe fill kaveh up with another load before eyeing up and granting alhaitham some mercy. doesn't matter if that's with pushing kaveh's pretty head down after slowly pulling out the rod, that roommate he bullied so often being his only true source of pleasure instead of the cruel you, doesn't matter if it's you taking out that vibrator and thrusting as deep as you could inside of him, doesn't matter if he's reduced to feeling like nothing but a two cent whore, he just wants you to fuck him, to touch him and properly ruin him. he felt his ego, pride, dignity chip away long ago, with every shaky moan and every rope of kaveh's cum that dirtied his floors.

alhaitham is no longer above begging- he'd grovel at your feet like a sinner to their god if he needed to. besides, surely you've had enough fun with this punishment and will go right back to feeding his own lustful addiction to your cock, right?

right?

#✧ ˚.　ᯇ　my work #dom reader #top reader #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #sub kaveh #kaveh x reader #sub alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #top male reader #top amab reader #dom male reader #dom amab reader

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aakeysmash · 1 month

Text

Roommate or boss?

Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.

Warnings: cursing, cutesy stuff.

Word count: 3.6k.

Previous part: part 5

And what's your definition of love?

You can't seem to stop thinking about the way Katsuki looked at you with somewhat of a soft gaze, body relaxed and on your shared couch. You noticed he tends to be tense a lot, like something is always bothering him, and it's rare to see him for what he hides to be. He acts like being soft is a weakness, almost as if being vulnerable in the past has caused him a scar that is not fully healed yet.

Also, if he asked me that without even blinking, he must have hella bitches, you think. What kind of guy talks so freely about love with a girl?

"What should I do Saturday? What's something you like to do, Y/N? Thinkkk" you whine to yourself. Blaming your own brain for lack of ideas is very therapeutic.

For you, love is easier with words. You could probably write a book about love if you really wanted to, but you don’t think you’re that good with actions. It’s not like you don’t try, it’s more like a lack of experience: you’re not used to thinking about expressing love, you just do it depending on who you’re facing. You are a pretty habitual person, so you might be shy when you first meet someone, but when you start knowing them you never fail to show what you truly are. You’ve never liked to hide your personality to make friends: it’s better to have a couple of real friends instead of a multitude of fake ones. You like expressing how much you care about someone with words, but you and this someone have to be close. You love loving, and you probably would be nowhere without it, but showing your rude and cold roommate something so important to you is difficult, maybe because if you don’t make a good impression you’re going to cry. Joking!

Unbeknownst to you, Katsuki is freaking out. He regretted asking you that stupid ass question the second he went to bed that day, and he regretted making that stupid ass deal with you even more. It's not because he doesn't want to know the answer, he's really damn curious about what you think, but he doesn't know how to answer it. He doesn’t know how to act in friendships, let alone in loving relationships. You just looked so soft, so cute, so trustable in that moment, that his brain shortcircuited and became smooth. "I'm a fucking idiot", he grunts while putting his pillow on his face.

He knows what love means to him. Love is the way his mother still calls him to check on how he's doing even if he doesn't put enough effort into keeping the relationship strong; it's the way his father smiles at their antics when they get together for the holidays even if he hates how loud they can get; it's the way Kirishima gets him hot chocolate every hard day at work without Katsuki asking; it's the way you care about Ochaco enough to call her even when you're exhausted from your own day at work, bags under your eyes and hand soothing your back that hurts from how much you've been at your desk studying. It's in the way the people around him want to see him happy, and in the way his heart beats a little more affectionately when he sees how naturally they seem to do things for his own happiness.

He sees love reflected in the actions of those who are close to him, but expressing it himself? He doesn't even know how the few people around him can tolerate him.

He decides to call Kirishima and ask him about frienships. Out of his male friends he’s probably the only one who can answer properly, and there’s no way he’s talking about it with the girls.

"Oi."

"Hey, Bakubro, everything alright?" his right hand answers.

"Listen, we're friends, right?" Katsuki bursts out.

"Uhm, yes, of course. Why are you asking me this? It's weird coming from you" the redhead suspiciously tells him.

The blonde ignores the comment and continues with his questions. "Why?"

"What do you mean why?" Kirishima says, more confused than before. Katsuki sighs, because he knows his friend will have to know all the details about it or he won't shut up about it, ever.

"Made a deal with my roommate, I have to show her what love means to me" he explains.

"That sounds pretty intimate, to be honest. You barely talk about her and suddenly you talk about love with her? Is there something more between you two? And what does that have to do with me anyway?" he rambles on.

"Shitty hair, stop asking questions, fuck. We were talking about friendships after she made me watch a dumb ass film and now I don't fucking know how to tell her what I think about love. She said to think about love inside of friendships. You're supposed to tell me why you're my friend. Also, we're not fucking intimate or some bullshit. As I said, we made a deal" he replies, annoyed.

"Sure, every roommate makes a deal about love nowadays" Kirishima mumbles.

"SO?" Katsuki is starting to get pissed. "Just answer the damn question."

His friend sighs, before starting to answer. "You're not good at telling people how you feel about them, but you know how to make them feel safe. And I'm not talking about physical safety, even if I bet if I asked Mina she would say you scare the creepy guys away, I'm talking about safe friendship. It's nice to know you're always there if I need you, you know? You help me without being asked to most of the time, and you don't even realise it. Remember that time half of the class fell sick and you spent a day going to the store to take medicines for every specific illness we had? Or remember when me and Mina almost broke up because of that stupid broken plate and you talked me out of it saying something like "If you really want to break up with her go on, but I'm breaking your nose because this is a really stupid fucking reason to break up with the girl of your dreams"? That's stuff that touches people. Yeah, your love can't be defined as kind, but it's real. Everyone needs to have a friend that will straight up tell them when they're wrong and that doesn't sugarcoat things. You're that guy, man. I’m glad I have you as a friend."

Katsuki is stunned into silence. He didn’t think Kirishima would be this specific.

“Hello? Are you still there?” His friend asks, thinking the line has fallen. Katsuki clears his throat before answering “Yeah. I didn’t expect all of this. Thanks, Eijirou, I appreciate it.”

His friend chuckles. “No worries, bro. Also, what’s going on with this roommate of yours? And don’t tell me that it’s just a deal, we both know it’s a lie. What type of person is she?”

Katsuki groans. He is currently in his feelings though, so he shares a bit of what’s on his mind lately.

“She’s cool, I guess. She knows how to deal with my mood swings in a way that… you-know-who didn’t do. She’s funny when she wants to be and she stands her ground with me, but she’s also pretty kind from what I’ve seen. Sometimes too much. It annoys me,” he says almost whispering. He feels like if he raises his voice even a little bit then he won’t be able to not think about you for the rest of the day. Almost as if the raw things he’s feeling right now will come back to haunt him.

Kirishima hums. He knows he won’t get more than his friend already said. It’s a miracle he even talked about something so personal.

“I’m glad you found a good roommate, man. You know how they say, calm at home equals calm at work” he says.

“And who says that?” responds Katsuki, raising both his voice and one eyebrow.

“Me” Kirishima proudly says.

“This was some of the corniest shit you ever said, Kiri. And I saw you propose to Mina” Katsuki barks.

His friend bursts out laughing. “Yeah, and you’re still my best man at the wedding.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever. I’m gonna work out now, see you at work” he says rolling his eyes.

“Sure, man. See ya,” and he hangs up.

Katsuki gets up from his bed and goes straight toward your bedroom door. He makes sure to knock before opening it, then crosses his arms and leans on the side of it. You look up at him from your desk and stretch. You’ve been writing for hours.

“How’s your vitamin D intake?” he asks you. You look confused. Is this a dirty joke?

“Why?”

“Because. Answer the question,” he says.

“Are you talking about dick or the literal sun?” You respond.

“Both. I do think you need to get laid. It could make you less insufferable” he answers, smirking.

“Fuck off, Katsuki” you roll your eyes. “By the way, I could use a walk if you want to go out. Do we need groceries or something?” You stand up, going next to him. Up close your height difference is even more noticeable.

“Nah. I was thinking about Saturday” he says looking down at you. Damn. If she comes a little closer I could strangle her without exerting too much effort. I’d just have to straighten my arms and get her neck and-

“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re freaking me out. Please cover your eyes and get out of my way, I need to pee” you tell him scowling, bumping his shoulder and getting out of your room. “Also, I did say that you can choose to go out, so if you show love by taking someone to the Bahamas, I have nothing to object to.”

You hear him humming before entering the bathroom door.

“I can’t take you to the Bahamas, ‘cause if I see that ass in a bikini, you’re getting both of your vitamins D” he mumbles, just having finished staring at your backside and knowing you can’t hear him. He shakes his head to make the voices disappear, then prepares himself to work out. A run will do.

It’s finally Saturday. For this deal both you and Katsuki took the day off at work, so it’s basically a small vacation. You wake up at 9 am, which isn’t even that bad, but when you get out of your room with sleep still on your features you see your roommate super busy in the kitchen. He’s so focused that you think he hasn’t noticed you, so you stare at him for a bit. He’s such a housewife. Let me take a picture, you think.

When he hears the click of your phone’s camera he snaps his head towards you. “Delete that shit,” he says with a deep voice.

“On my dead body, Mr. Bakugou,” you reply.

He growls, then throws you a mean look. “I’m poisoning your food, brat.”

“Oh! You’re cooking for me? How nice of you” you say genuinely, getting closer to him and observing what he’s doing.

“Don’t look. It’s for later. We’re having a picnic” he roughly responds.

“Is this what you planned on doing for today?” You ask, smiling up at him.

“Yeah” he says hesitantly. He didn’t think you’d be excited, and seeing you smile for something so little makes him pause. He composes himself, remaining neutral. “I'ma need your help though, we’re baking cookies. Is that easy enough for you, dumbass?” He continues, smirking.

“Hey!” You pout, throwing a punch at his arm. He chuckles. You’re surprised, because you’re not used to hearing his laugh, but you go with the flow and laugh with him. His laugh is a bit rough, just like him: you like it though, because it shows a little of that particular side he doesn’t show often. You’re a sucker for it, your need to always know every detail being quelled a little and making you feel light. Being in Katsuki’s presence is like being exposed to the bright and hot July sun for a whole day and finally finding a bottle of fresh water. You still don’t know if he’s the sun or the water, you just know that it makes you happy.

You start mixing the ingredients according to the recipe he reads you and he occasionally screams that you’re not doing it the right way, taking over. After a while he frustrates you so much that you take a bit of flour, put it on your hand and then slap it on his chest. He’s flabbergasted, your white handprint on his black tee super visible. He doesn’t say anything for 5 minutes, just staring at you and at his shirt, while you’re on the floor crying from how much you’re laughing from his expression.

“You bitch” he seethes, scowling. “If you want me to show you how I hate people, you’re on the right fucking path”. Then he takes some cookie batter and smears it on your forehead. You try fighting him but he gets both of your wrists in one of his hands in a matter of seconds, and you can’t escape.

He gets on your eye level and with mirth in his eyes tells you “Y’can’t win at this. Keep on cooking or you’re not gonna taste what I prepared for you”. You poke out your tongue with laughter still in your irises. He rolls his eyes, trying to appear mad. At that moment, you realise that- He’s having fun. He's happy.

"If you're going to boss me around I'm at least going to have the music privilege," you tell him, wriggling out of his grasp. He whines, saying how your music always gives him a headache, but he's lying. You caught him singing along more than he would want to know.

You keep on cooking and singing all morning. You laugh, you scream while running around your living room making fun of each other (well, you laugh, he scowls), you truly enjoy your free time for the first time in what feels like ages. Katsuki doesn't try to hide that he's enjoying himself and how he gets annoyed when you're not on tune, and you beam at the fact he feels comfortable enough to show you some of his true colors. Your chocolate chip cookies turn out to be pretty amazing, and Katsuki says that it's only because he made the recipe himself.

"Don't get too ahead of yourself, Y/N" he smirks, looking at you breaking one cookie in half. You're both sitting down, having just finished taking them out of the oven.

"You know, you never call me by my name. Is that because you're rude or do you have problems with showing affection? How's your relationship with your mother?" you mock him while munching.

He flicks your forehead and blows on your face, making you scowl. He smells like the cookie he just finished eating plus a little bit of the coffee you made for the both of you. You offer him the bigger half of the cookie you broke in two, and he stares at you for a bit before taking it.

"You could've given me the smaller part. It's not like we don't have enough of them" he mumbles. You just shrug.

"Just take it. It came as a natural gesture, don't worry, it's not like I like you enough as a person to plan something like that" you reply, flipping him off while standing up and dusting yourself.

"Go prepare yourself. We're going out in 30 minutes," he tells you ignoring your middle finger right in his face and looking at his watch. If you didn't think about it it's even worse, dumbass , he thinks.

"30 minutes?! But I want to be cute! Ugh! You could've told me sooner!" you scream while running toward your door, and you hear him scoffing. You turn around and look at him, still basking in the sun that comes from the window in front of the kitchen counter. He seems more peaceful than he's ever looked, with flour on his clothes and his hair ruffled up from how much his hands were in it when you were doing something wrong baking.

"Kats?"

"Yeah, Y/N?"

"This was cute. We should do this again sometimes. You're a great cook" you say, giving him one of your most genuine smiles. He nods, then tells you to hurry up. When he's alone in the kitchen he brings one of his hands on his chest and hears how fast his heart is beating. He groans. You're going to give him a heart disease. Was this day a good idea?

You get out of the house and he has to force himself to not look at your legs. You wore one of those flowy summer dresses that compliments your skin so well he feels like he'll have a nosebleed at the end of the day. Fuck Katsuki, get a hold of yourself. You sound like a horny teenager, he scolds himself.

You lay your blanket on the green grass of one of the parks near your apartment, and he gets out different tupperwears with different things in them. He even gets out two bentos filled to the brim with food. You're shocked.

"Just how early did you get up to do all of this?! There's so much food!" you excitedly say, looking at the pearly whites of his teeth when he flashes you a shy smile for a fraction of a second, before returning to his usual impassible face.

"Early enough to see you still sleeping like the lazy ass you are. Don't flatter me too much, dumbass: dig in, you're gonna taste the best fucking food you'll ever eat. I'm never doing all of this again, but I'm gonna win this fucking deal no matter what" he says.

"You mean I just had to make a bet with you to make you a decent human being for a day? I'm writing it down" you joke. He rolls his eyes, scowl ever present on his features.

"Oh! By the way, I thought about doing something too. We're going to play a bunch of different games and whoever wins the majority of them is going to clean the house alone for two weeks. Are you in? Or are you scared to lose?" you ask him, pointing your fork at him and looking mischievous.

"You're talking to a master here. You're gonna be so sorry for yourself at the end of the day" he responds, looking ready to annihilate you.

You spend the rest of the afternoon eating and playing with each other. You're both really competitive, so most games finish as ties, but you have fun. When the sun starts setting, you get your things and start going toward your apartment.

"By the way, I won the flag quiz. That's so much better than winning fucking monopoly" he says frowning.

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say, loser," you tell him.

"We're gonna have a rematch. I'm gonna get your ass so bad you'll cry" he barks, glaring at your laughing form.

You open your door and mimick a parrot with your hand, like you're saying he's all talk and no smoke. He slaps the back of your head receiving an ouch from you, then puts the containers he used to prepare lunch in the sink. You sit on the kitchen counter while he's washing them.

"So, you're big on acts of service? That's how you show love, right?" you ask him, swinging your legs and looking at his back.

"Yeah, basically. I like it when people enjoy the things I do for them, I guess" he answers, not turning his face toward you. "Instead, your love language is quality time, right?" he continues.

You hum. "I like physical contact too, but it depends on the person I'm receiving it from, you know? It makes me super uncomfortable if someone forces it on me" you explain, shrugging. He nods, drying his hands and turning around.

"I noticed," he says.

"How?"

"I'm good at details. That's why I'm good at everything I do," he responds, seriously.

"Woah, your ego just blinded me," you tell him, a bit disgusted.

"Whatever. Hot choco then we order out?" he offers.

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired. What about you make it?" you whine, and he scoffs.

"You ain't no princess, get your ass up," he says, putting one of his hands on your thigh and shaking it. He's positioned in a way where he maintains some distance, but if he were to take two steps he'd be between your legs. She's not uncomfortable now, he thinks. You huff, then hop off the kitchen counter.

"You should call me princess, since you look like the assassin the rival king hired to kill me" you mumble, getting a pan out.

"Oh, I'd kill you just right, princess" he whispers in your ear, making you shiver. He sounded kind of serious, too.

You push him away, calling him an idiot, and he chuckles before ordering pizza for the both of you.

Well, today was nice, you tell yourself, a little smile on your lips. I'd even like his pomeranian-looking ass if he wasn't so rude, you remark.

Meanwhile, as he's looking at you singing to yourself, he thinks that if he doesn't distance himself a bit from your big eyes and pretty smile, your story will be an "enemies to lovers" instead of a runaway princess and her assassin.

Tag list:

@perfectsukii @sleepykittycx @what-the-jams @bakunianadecorazon @vensunzy @eyesforbkg @bffrrufr @imas1mpp @cold-deep-water @peonies-and-teacakes @berryvioo @opticesmeray @one-piece-frvr7 @youngststark @kahelis

#bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha #bakugo fluff #barista au #and they were roommates #soft bakugou #bakugo katsuki #bakugou fic

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suiana · 1 year

Note

hi! could you do yandere roommate?

for sure!

✎ yandere! roommate headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― manipulation, nsfw etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

‎

✎ yandere! roommate who found you pretty cute from the moment you moved into his apartment. god, he's going to have so much fun having you as a roommate <3

✎ yandere! roommate who sets the rule of not interfering with one another's life. if either one brought back a one night stand, the other would not complain. oh! he also said the chores had to be split too!

✎ yandere! roommate who initially didn't care about who you brought back. oh you're getting your back blown out? good for you! just make sure to take out the trash tomorrow :)

✎ yandere! roommate who started to unknowingly fall for you. was it the conversations when you two were cooking together? was it the way you two already acted like a couple?? it doesn't matter, he had already fallen for you and that was a fact.

✎ yandere! roommate who now forbids you from bringing other people home. he doesn't need you fucking other people in his presence!

✎ yandere! roommate who blatantly lies and tells you when you talk back to him. it's because the neighbours were complaining from the sounds you made when you were doing it! we need to be considerate you know? how funny because your room is actually sound proof.

✎ yandere! roommate who raises your rent to an ungodly amount. inflation is a bitch huh :(

✎ yandere! roommate who tells you that there are other methods of payment ;) that you can either pay with your love or with cash which you unfortunately do not have enough of. what were you thinking of huh ;)

✎ yandere! roommate who treats you like his significant other now that you picked the love option. I mean, the both of you already acted like a couple, might as well make it official now!

✎ yandere! roommate who tells you how lucky you are to be his roommate. he's not even asking you for money now! just your love is enough <3 and don't even think of escaping, you won't be able to. you can't escape. never <3

✎ "roomie~ should we add this decor into the living room? it's so cute!"

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere blog #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #yandere drabbles #yandere roommate #yandere roommate headcanons #yandere roommate x reader

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ellebakers · 10 months

Text

☆ Too bad | Part two (+18)

Ethan Landry x reader

Warning(s) : sex, mention of death, blood.

You were sleeping peacefully when the ringing of your phone woke you up. Eyes half-closed, you groped your bedside table looking for your cell phone, once in hand, you unlocked it and saw three messages from Bradley.

"I'm breaking up with you. The sex was good but that's it, I'm getting tired of you. Bye."

Without even realizing it, you sat against your headboard. You were shocked, a lot of emotions were going through you, sadness, fear, hate, a lot of hate.

"Are you serious ?"

Read. That asshole had the audacity not to answer. You screamed in anger and threw your phone on your bed. Tears rolled down your cheeks, having heard your cry, your roommates, Tara and Sam, rushed into your room.

The eldest of the Carpenters held a knife in her hand, after all, Ghostface was back, but seeing you cry, she dropped her gun and rushed to hug you. Tara picked up your phone and looked over the conversation with Bradley.

"Shhh, breathe and tell me what's going on." Sam stroked your hair as, unable to speak, you clutched her sweater for fear of falling. Tara stroked your thigh and showed Sam your phone.

The two sisters looked at each other with hatred towards your, now ex-boyfriend. But right now their priority was you.

They spent the rest of the night with you, you finally managed to fall asleep in the morning after crying all the tears in your body for an asshole.

If only you knew the truth. The truth is that Ethan had sent this message from Bradley's phone after putting his body in the trunk of his father's car, and after cleaning the apartment from top to bottom to leave no trace of blood.

To say Wayne was upset was an understatement. He was standing against his police car hidden in an alley as Ethan stripped down to the Ghostface costume. "Holy shit Ethan. That wasn't part of the plan."

The brunette put on his denim jacket and rolled his eyes.

"I know, but that guy was an asshole and he was investigating me. Eventually he would have found out that I'm related to Richie."

Wayne crossed his arms and sighed. "Did you do it to save your ass, or did you do it for Y/n ?"

Ethan avoided his father's gaze, which made the old man laugh. "I knew it! Shit. Look, I know what it is, I was young too. So if you want some good advice, fuck her and then. Kill her." The boy clenched his jaw. "I know you like her, but she's responsible for Richie's death just as much as Sam and the others."

Wayne put his hands on his son's shoulders. "I know it's hard, but we can't kill them all but her."

Ethan nodded at his father and the man smiled, satisfied. "I'll fix this little problem, you go take a shower and take care of Y/n."

You were sitting on your bed, trying to distract yourself by sorting through your emails when Ethan knocked on your bedroom door.

He came in and sat down next to you. "How do you feel ?"

Without looking up from your screen, you sighed. "I'm doing well."

Ethan carefully closed your computer. "Y/n, you can talk to me."

"What do you want me to tell you ? I've been feeling like shit ever since my boyfriend blew me off like an old sock, moreover, via text. Do I feel like I've been taken for a bitch ? Yes. Am I in pain ? Yes. Do I dream of killing him ? Absolutely fucking yes."

Ethan bit his lip to keep himself from smiling when he heard you mention Bradley's murder.

"Do you realize?! Six months of faking orgasms because I loved him. Six less whores waiting for him to go away and make me cum on my own, just because I loved him."

Hearing you say you did it all out of love for Bradley was driving him crazy. How could you love a guy like that when you could have him.

Ethan put a hand on your bare thigh, since you were in shorts, and made little circles with his thumb. Feeling his skin on yours made you look up at your best friend.

"You deserve better." You didn't know why but you were getting closer and closer to his lips as he spoke. "You deserve someone who treats you like the goddess you are."

"Ethan." You whispered as your lips were inches apart. He put his hands in your neck. "Let me be that person." And he crushed his lips on you. The kiss felt like fireworks as he laid you under him. Instinctively you spread your thighs and he took this opportunity to rub his pelvis between your legs which made you moan.

He detached himself from your lips to attack your neck, alternating between biting and sucking lightly.

He slipped one of his hands into your shorts and applied pressure to your clit through your panties. You closed your eyes and threw your head back with your mouth open.

"I barely touched you and you're already wet."

You bit your lip as he inserted one finger inside you, then two. You rippled your pelvis moaning. "You have no idea how many times I imagined us like that." He had you at his mercy, and he loved it. At this point you couldn't take it anymore, you felt the orgasm approaching so quickly that it made you ashamed. As if Ethan felt it too, he pulled his fingers out and ripped off your shorts and panties. He parted your thighs and pulled you to him. He rubbed his erection against you, only to make you wet even more.

"You feel that. It's the state you leave me in all the time."

He put his hand around your throat and squeezed lightly, and that simple gesture could have made you cum. The last six months the sex with Bradley was good, but it had never been bestial with you, and that's what you were looking for. To think that your best friend, the nice, shy Ethan, was making you wet like never before, you would never have believed it if someone had told you. Without wasting time he turned you around, leaving you on all fours. As you were about to ask him what he was waiting for, he spread your legs even more, and without warning, he slipped under you, and with a gesture he drew your pussy to his mouth.

You started to lose your balance but quickly clung to your headboard.

It took you a while before you came to your senses, once you celebrated, you put your hand between your legs to stroke Ethan's hair, who was doing the maneuvers with his tongue. Sucking, licking, up and down, in circles. Your moans grew louder and louder as you rocked your pelvis against his face. Ethan reached under your top and pinched your already rock hard nipples.

"Ethan...shit, I'm going to cum."

Without realizing it, you had Ethan lift you up and put you back on your back. He stood up and scanned the room with his eyes. You growled and pointed a threatening index finger at him. "If you don't make me cum I'll-" You didn't have time to finish your sentence as Ethan grabbed your arm and led you to your office. Suddenly, he knocked over everything that was on it and he laid you on top.

He lowered his pants and his boxers and without even giving you time to touch or even see his member, he penetrated you violently, snatching a pornographic cry from you.

There was nothing romantic about it, he was just fucking you and god did you like it.

He continued to make you come and go in you, more and more strongly. Tears were running down your cheeks, the feeling was so good. "Ethan, fuck me harder."

The boy smiled devilishly at you and withdrew from you. He picked you up, you turned, belly against the desk. He put his jeans belt around your neck and took a handful of your hair in his hand, then, unlike the first time, he penetrated you millimeter by millimeter, making you writhe with pleasure. He approached your ear and licked it.

"You want me to fuck you like I imagined ?"

"It depends, were you fucking me hard ?"

He laughed and put his mouth to your ear. "More than you think." You pressed your ass against him and moaned, motioning him to move.

With a bang he started, then his punches got faster and faster and harder. He tugged on your hair, and on the belt.

There was a reason you put your office here, it was the breathtaking view of New York. And that's what you saw as your best friend brought you closer and closer to orgasm.

"I want all of New York to see me fucking you." And with that, you cum on his cock that you felt since he hadn't put on a condom. It was bigger than Bradley's, much bigger.

You were trying to catch your breath but Ethan hadn't come and he kept moving. You already felt a second orgasm approaching. "Ethan, stop it, I'll-" But you didn't have time to finish, your second orgasm came over you at the same time as Ethan. Your best friend gently lay on top of you, out of breath. He took off the belt which had left a pretty red mark on your neck.

He helped you up, then he accompanied you to the bathroom, but his behavior was strange. As if he were someone else. You paid no attention and took a shower. Once clean, you put on your pajamas and got out of the shower, you took your phone and smiled when you saw a message from Tara.

"I understand you and Ethan are busy. Chad and I will come a little later. Please tell me when you're done."

When you had just sent him your answer, you approached Ethan who had his back turned towards you in the kitchen. "You regret ?"

You asked worried, because you didn't regret it. You saw him shake his head. "I don't regret having slept with you, I just regret what I'm going to have to do." You frown and laugh nervously. "What are you talking about ?"

He turned and you gasped as a hot sensation scorched your stomach. You looked down and saw Ethan's hand holding the knife he had just stuck in your stomach.

He pulled it out, which hurt you even more and you fell to the ground. He ran his hand through his hair, crying. "I'm sorry, but I had to do it. I had to kill Bradley, I didn't think I had to kill you but my father ordered me to."

With what little strength you had left, you rolled onto your stomach and tried to slide to the front door.

Ethan got on top of you and gently turned you onto your back. "I love you Y/n. I didn't think I would fall in love with you, but I did. I'm so sorry, I hope you forgive me."

He put his knife in your hand and whispered to you. "Tell him you killed me, it was self-defense and then leave this town please." Then, he clasped your hand on the handle of the knife with his own and he aimed the blade straight into his throat. He spat blood, and fell on you. Too tired and shocked, you didn't try to push his body. You closed your eyes and prayed it was all just a bad dream.

tag list : @starsluver @steveharringtonreblogs @jesusfootsandles @astarborntowrite @nooimmaastarr @generalkenobee @joaofelixluvr

#scream vi #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #scream #scream x reader

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hyuuukais · 3 months

Text

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> general, feelings of anxiety, punches r thrown

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER FIVE -> BAD BITCH ENERGY (partially written! wc:722)

"Actually, I can't do this!" You exclaim, anxiety gnawing at your lungs as you get closer to your home.

"Yes, you can." Minho drives on, not sparing a glance in your direction.

Sooner than you hoped, you're there, staring at the pale yellow door through the passenger side window of Minho's car. The house looks no different than when you left, only you can see your flowers drooping slightly in the window. Although you'd only been gone less than a week, it felt like a million years. This place was no longer your home; you didn't know if you had one anymore.

"Just- can we stay parked here for a second?" You try to squash the tight feeling in your throat, constricting your words to a whisper. "I'm not ready."

"No offence, but I don't really wanna waste my gas sitting here all day-"

"Yeah, and that thing I left for you was actually kind of important-" Beomgyu chips in.

"I basically stood someone up for you, so you better not chicken out-" Han gives you a pointed look.

They all stare at you and you have to look away, hide the tears welling in your eyes. You're going to disappoint them if you don't go, just like you disappointed Seonghwa, just like you always do. You never should have asked them, never should have burdened them with this-

"Hey." Minho shifts his body to face you better and you glance over, eyes falling to your hands. "How about we come with you? Would that make it better? Easier?"

You look up at his question, tears now threatening to spill over. "Yes, please."

"Shit, she's gonna cry again!" Beomgyu laughed uncomfortably. "Y/n, c'mon, it'll be okay, don't worry! You've got us. Now, wipe your eyes and let's go. Can't have your ex seeing you this distraught over him, can we?"

"Bad bitch energy," you say in a broken voice, words NingNing has tried to engrave into your very brain over the years.

"Bad bi-" Han waves a hand in the air. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

You wipe your eyes, trying to muster every bit of strength you have to see him, placing a hand on the door handle. A wave of fear washes over you again when you start to push it open, the boys following suit.

But then you slam it shut.

Han groans loudly and sits back down, Beomgyu and Minho doing the same.

"What happened?" Han asks, exasperated. "Where's the bad bitch energy or whatever?"

"I'm sorry!" You can't look at them. "I'm sorry. I can't-"

"Enough with the 'I cant's' because yes, you can." Minho turns his whole body to you again, grabbing your chin with two fingers, and making you look at him. "He broke your heart. He hurt you. So, yes, you can go in there, reclaim your things, and never have to see him again. There's no reason for you to even think about him after this." He can tell you're not fully convinced. "How did it feel to see him with the other woman?"

"It felt like my heart shattered into a million pieces," you say. Minho opens his mouth, but you continue on. "Then he took those pieces, ground them up into a fine powder, and scattered them to the edges of the Earth where I'll never find them again. It felt like the ultimate betrayal because I knew I gave him everything and trusted him, but he clearly didn't do the same. Or even close."

You sit up straighter, squaring your shoulders.

"Yes, there, that's it." Minho smirks, eyes widening ever so slightly.

"And the way he thought I'd be the one cheating?" You're anger flares, skin heating up. "As if I didn't tell him how much I loved him daily? As if I wouldn't be too busy working on something that I was proud of that he didn't even let me talk about because, 'oh, honey, we both know your career isn't going any further'."

Anger leads you out of the car and to the front door before you can register your feet moving, pounding a fist on the door when the spare key is nowhere to be found, mumbling every wrongdoing he's committed.

You are furious.

And your hand moves on its own when Seonghwa opens the door.

notes -> do NAWT mess w miss y/nnie. she WILL beat ur ass.

notes pt 2 -> didn't mean to post this! so accidental extra chapter today lmaoo

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @taeriffic @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13

L^^^ orange means i can't tag you

#-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143 #skz #stray kids #skz smau #non idol au #stray kids smau #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader #lee know smau #lee minho x fem reader #lee know x fem reader

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