#FINALLY GOT THIS DONE 🫠🫠🫠

[vidawhump]

Symphony of Stars

Masterpost

Before all hell broke loose, the forests that evening were peaceful. Young fledglings caused mischief while others tried to maintain the chaos. Elias had been sitting on a tree branch, his sleek black wings tucked neatly against his back. He watched in amusement as younger ravens chased each other on the ground, attacking with makeshift swords and shields. He began to let his guard down. There hadn’t been any human hunters in the area recently. There had been minimal mishaps, and his best friend had picked up a bit of his community’s local language, called Aves. Elias’ best friend was a human who called himself Eden. The two were an unlikely duo, mostly because Elias hated all humans with a burning passion. Hell, he often killed any humans he deemed a threat on sight. Exactly how Eden and Elias had grown so close is still something of a mystery, even to themselves.

 While Elias bathed in the sunset’s warmth, panicked caws caught his attention. They were desperate and echoed through the air. A dire cry for help. Elias tumbled out of the treetops to find the distressed cries. He landed in a secluded part of the forest, an area that Elias’ flock avoided to protect the young from frequenting coyotes. But coyotes would have been a much preferred scenario over what transpired that day.

A young fledgling was being wrangled into a net by two humans. Without a second thought, Elias tackled one of the humans to the ground. With flared wings, he crouched on all fours. Before he could pounce on the human holding the young starling captive, they pulled out a pocket knife and held it to the child’s neck.

The human couldn't be bothered to introduce themself or make pleasantries before issuing an ultimatum.

“Come with me or the kid gets it.” Their voice was smooth and feminine, dripping like honey laced with poison. It left a bitter metallic taste in Elias’ mouth. To emphasize their point, they pressed their knife into the soft skin of the child’s throat. Small beads of crimson red dripped to the ground.

“Tick-tock, birdie.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Elias knew he had to make a decision. Granted, he wasn't known for making the best decisions, but could he make any other choice? He was stupidly self-sacrificial, and this was a fledgling in danger. No, no matter how many times he reminisced about the event, he knew he couldn't have made any other choice.

Unmoving from his position, he bowed his head, just enough to show the dangerous human he could be pliant. Watching and calculating, the human holding the fledgling signaled the other towards Elias. He desperately wanted to attack the humans. He remembered the same mantras he’d been repeating and proved to himself his whole life: Humans are evil, they are toxic beings that destroy everything they touch, and they will find you, and they will kill everyone you love, and then yourself.

Eden was human, but he was only the one-in-a-million benevolent human from a virulent species. If a few rotten apples spoiled the whole barrel, the entire orchard must be wasting away.

The human cuffed his hands behind his back, his feet together, and taped his wings so they couldn’t expand. The honeyed voice spoke again, though not to Elias.

“Don’t damage the bird, we want to keep his wings relatively intact.”

He initially assumed the humans wanted to kill him and used the fledgling as bait. After all, he had been viciously defending his flock for years. He’d dedicated his whole life to keeping his community safe. It’d make sense for them to try and kill Elias. But it seemed as if they were going to keep him alive. There was absolutely no reason for them to be keeping him alive. Wouldn’t that only be a hindrance? If it wasn’t, he was going to be an absolute menace for as long as they had him detained.

The human threatening the fledgling had wispy long brown hair and deep green eyes. Those pine-green eyes bore into him as she watched the other human tape his wings. Seemingly satisfied with Elias’ new restraints, they handed their knife off to the other human. While taking the knife, the sharpest end between his fingertips, the other human bent down and whispered into the fledgling’s ear.

“Go and sow the seeds of chaos .”

He smacked the fledgling’s shoulder, dangerously close to where she had been cut, and a sinister smile took over his face as the starling fled the scene. The brown-haired human shot him a dirty glare.

“What are you trying to do? We’re supposed to make a clean escape, not let the kid run rampant and make a scene! Cmon, we need to get the bird out of here. Uncuff his legs so he can walk by himself. I don’t wanna carry him. He smells weird.”

Elias scowled at the brown-haired human, mildly offended that she called him out on an entirely true fact.

The human that was bending down to uncuff his legs, stared at him. He whispered to the brown-haired human.

“…Cassidy, I think the bird knows English.”

After a brief pause, he spoke again.

“Cassidy, it knows you called it stinky.”

Cassidy gazed down at Elias, an inscrutable expression on her face. Something of confusion was prevalent. She wasn't sure how to feel about the bird knowing she called him stinky. Or that the bird creature spoke the same language she did.

She shook off the notion and moved on.

“Whatever, it doesn't matter. Uncuff him, we have to go.”

The other human took the cuffs off his ankles and hoisted him up. He guardedly followed behind the two humans out of the woods. The one called “Cassidy” led him by a chain connected to his handcuffs. Elias was itching to be freed from the cuffs. Several times, he strained his wings to try and break the tape. He wasn't very discreet about it though, and the humans caught on quickly. This only resulted in more layers of tape on his wings. Elias hated how sticky it felt on his feathers.

He slightly relaxed with the knowledge that the starling was safe. He couldn't forget the image of the young starling under the human’s blade. Their wings were stiff and body trembling. Pitch black eyes wide and glossy with fear. He could almost feel the starling’s heart pounding alongside his own.

At least they’re safe now, he thought. He gazed up at the darkened sky. The sunset had long passed, and the stars twinkled brightly above him. He couldn’t help but think they were taunting him. They were free, roaming the vastness of space, and he was here, tied up and led out of the forests he called home.

The silvery crescent moon peeked at Elias from behind the treeline. On any other night like this, he and Eden would climb to the top of his favorite hill and stargaze. Every night they would talk about everything there is and nothing at all. He wasn’t quite sure how to define their relationship. But they made each other happy, so there wasn’t much else to it.

He missed Eden. Yet there Elias was, not alone, but lonelier than ever before. Led away from his home, seen by nobody except the crescent moon and shining stars.

Featherbound Taglist: @whumpy-wyrms @rainbowsandwhumperflies

[alwaysneedyforsir]

spent all day in the library. still feel like i know nothing

[kuiinncedes]

🥹 ;-;

[tinycoffeeroom]

more than enough | lando norris

face claim: none ♡

request: here !

requested: Hi lovely, I loved just friends!! Since reading, all I’ve been able to thinking about is bestfriend/roomate Lando. Maybe you’re not able to join him for race weekend and he hasn’t heard from you, like at all. When he returns, he thinks you’re not home until he hears the sobs and realises something is really wrong. Maybe you’ve broken up with your boyfriend and Lando is standing on the other side of your locked bedroom door, absolutely in love with you and hurting because you’re hurting 🫠

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

📍 Miami

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren and 1,387,928 others

landonorris WE FUCKING DID IT!!!!! P1 in Miami!!!!! you bitches can't call me lando nowins anymore!!!

See 997,729 other comments

fan you can tell lando runs his own social media... ↳ mclaren it is our biggest burden

oscarpiastri well done mate! well deserved! ♥️ landonorris ↳ landonorris you next osc!!!

maxverstappen1 i said i'd have to collect my wins before you start coming for them, congrats winner! ♥️ landonorris

mclaren our papaya boy, you will always be loved (heart) ♥️ landonorris

fan WHERE IS Y/N?????? ↳ fan lando said in an interview that she couldn't come this week!!!! i'm sure she texted / called him

fan i know y/ns screaming and crying at the fact she couldn't be there this week

fan no lando / y/n hugging photo :((((( i miss my best friends

liked by fan, fan and 19,036 others

f1gossip Lando Norris' roommate and best friend Y/N L/N was caught in a heated argument with her recently debuted beau outside a restaurant in Monaco. The person who sent the photo in was too far away to hear the argument, but said Y/N seemed despondent to the situation, watching her boyfriend walk away before paying the bill and leaving quietly. Soon after, waiter's came to each outside table and told them Y/N sent her apologies for the commotion.

fan y/n :(((( was he the reason she couldn't go to Miami????

fan i'm gonna dox him ↳ fan i mean... i'm not gonna stop you

fan i have a knife.

fan i hope he's an ex boyfriend now wtf???

fan do you guys remember the pics of her and lando talking at padel and her bf was shooting DAGGERS at lando??? yeah somethings going on there ↳ fan we hate insecure men

fan lando i know u have money and connections i need this man to disappear

It wasn’t unusual for you to go radio silent after a race you weren’t able to attend, especially one on the other side of the world. Lando was used to a simple “congrats on P4!<3333” or wherever he had placed that time, and then you would be off to the land of dreams as he went about his day, shuffling between meetings and the media paddock. 

Today was different however. Lando had actually won. He’d won his first ever race and his best friend and roommate was virtually nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t help but feel a little angry at you, you knew how much P1 meant to him, the hours he had spent moping around the little apartment the two of you shared after a bad race and the rants he would go on when he placed P2 but was inches from that ever so elusive win, slipping just through his fingertips. 

He fired off one last text to you before sliding the phone back into the waistband of his fireproofs so he had his hands free to accept celebratory fist bumps and handshakes from every garage along the paddock. 

The lack of communication from you slowly slipped his mind after he had interview after interview, the kind and excited words of the journalists filling him with pride as they recall just how far ahead of Max he had been. Sure, his mood soured everytime someone mentioned that he got lucky with the safety car but his mother always told him that luck was something to utilise, not something to rely on. 

When he was finally free of the media’s hands, he checked his phone again. No messages from you which made him sigh, but one from Max. Opening their text thread, he’d dropped Lando a location pin for a well known bar in Miami along with the sentence “9pm, be there or be square, race winner”. 

–

To be quite honest, Lando doesn’t remember much of the party. Hell, he doesn’t even remember getting there, Zak having plied him with glass after glass of champagne during their debrief. He’s pretty sure Oscar had been the one to zip his fly up when they met outside their hotel rooms before the party, hands moving up to recentre his shirt so only a slightly scandalous amount of chest showed. 

Sitting on the private jet, again courtesy of Max, he thumbed through the last text thread between the two of you. You’d seemed fine, mentioning that you were going out for a meal with your boyfriend before the race started, and then… nothing. Complete and total radio silence. 

Maybe you were still with your boyfriend, too wrapped up in that jackass to notice the 17 messages Lando had left you since last night. 

God, he hated that guy. Ever since the day you had introduced him to Lando, he’d had a bad feeling. The guy was too touchy, arm wrapped securely and possessively around your waist like Lando was some kind of threat. 

And maybe he was. 

If he’d just manned up and told you the truth, that he’d loved you since the moment the two of you met one sunny day when he was still an F2 driver and you were the sister of one of his rivals, then maybe it would be his arm draped around you. 

Instead he had smiled, rolled over and showed his stomach like a runt at the bottom of the food chain, and watched from afar as the guy whisked you away under a mottled sunset. 

He felt a nudge at his side, eyes meeting Max’s curious ones. “Still no reply?”

He sighed, shaking his head as he pocketed his phone once again. “Maybe she’s busy…”

The excuse sounds weak even to his own ears, and when Max simply hums unbelievingly, he sighs again, mind torn in half at the elation of his win and the sadness of your ignoration. 

–

Sliding the key into the door, he listened ahead for any sign of life. The sound of dishes clinking in the sink, or your playlist of noughties hits that he always pretended to hate but would secretly sing along to when you weren’t looking. 

The silence that blankets him is unnerving. Too reminiscent of when he’d moved here alone and had all but begged you to join him, promising a rent free and easy going life. 

Checking the kitchen, he sees it’s exactly as he left it last week. The living room is barely lived in, the odd throw misplaced from the back of the sofa. His game room door is still shut, as is both his and your bedrooms. 

As he walks through to drop his suitcase off in his room, dreading the amount of washing that will fall out of it when he gets the energy to open, he hears a noise. From your bedroom, specifically. 

Checking his watch, he sees its 2 in the afternoon. Normally, you would be up and out by now, dragging Lando to whatever new fad you had seen on tiktok, or to the padel courts where he would inevitably lose to you. 

Leaning so his ear presses against the door, he can make out the shuffling of sheets. Maybe you had decided to do some laundry whilst you waited for him to get back. But then, the sound of sniffling joins. 

He freezes on the spot, ear still pressed haphazardly to the wooden door. The sniffles get louder and louder, soon joined behind an unmistakable sob. He can feel his heart drop to the floor, his stomach joining it on its tumultuous way down. 

You were crying. And he had no idea why. 

Pulling away from the door, his hand hovers the knob. Should he knock first? Should he just leave you to it? Normally, when you were sad, you would sneak into whichever room he was in, either reaching a hand out to lay against his back or sitting close enough so your thighs touch. He knew you needed to feel some part of him in order to ground yourself, and he always obliged. Oftentimes, the two of you would end up cuddled on the couch, some soppy chick flick on the tv as you gave into the warmth surrounding you, eyes closing as you rested your head against his shoulder. Despite how much it hurt to see you sad, he couldn’t deny these quiet moments were his favourite part of any day. 

Another sob breaks out, the sound so cruel and visceral, it was as if it had been yanked from your very soul. He forgoes knocking, hand twisting the knob harshly. He tries to push it open, only to be met by a force pushing back against him. 

You’d locked the door. 

In the 4 years of living together, neither of you had ever once locked your bedroom doors, knowing the other would knock before entering but still feeling comfortable enough to forgo privacy so the rooms could be open to the other whenever. 

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly, as one would approach an injured bird. 

The sobs become muffled, more shuffling of sheets before you call back to him, voice weak and torn along the edges. “Lando?”

He normally loved when you said his name, but the whine that accompanies it today leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He knows he should ask what’s wrong but he doesn’t know where to begin. He’s never not known why you’re sad, the two of you an open book shared between friends. 

He starts the only way he knows how. “Did you watch the race?”

More shuffling of sheets and when you respond, your voice is closer. “I’m sorry Lan, I didn’t get a chance to.” A moment of silence passes between the two of you. “How did you do?”

He wants to be angry. He really does. The one time you don't watch a race and he only goes and bloody wins it. “I won.”

“What?” Your voice wobbles, wondering if you were imagining what he had just said. 

“I won, Y/N. My first P1. 7 seconds ahead of Max.”

He waits for your response, probably some form of congratulations spoken through wood given your current mood. What he wasn’t expecting was for you to unlock and slam open the door, the both of you wincing as it bangs against the wall. “Say that again.”

He takes you in for a moment. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with violet, tears still making their way down flushed cheeks. You’re wrapped in your duvet, only your head visible as the duvet covers what is probably bedhead and your favourite set of pyjamas - flannel trousers and a t-shirt of Lando’s you had stolen at some point. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he smiles warily at you. “I won.”

Throwing yourself at him, he takes a moment to steady the two of you, arms wrapping around the mass of duvets surrounding you. He can feel you crying again, tears soaking the collar of his shirt. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Lan. I should have watched, I mean you won and I wasn’t even there to watch. I’m sorry, please forgive me.” You choke through the words, fingers digging roughly into Lando’s back. 

He winces at the feeling of your nails digging into his skin through the shirt, squeezing you even closer to him. “Don’t be sorry. Something obviously happened.” He uses the mound of duvet to pull you away, eyes flickering over your face. You look heartbroken in more ways than one. “What happened, sweet girl?”

Your lips quiver at the nickname, a hand poking through the duvet to reveal your phone. After 3 tries of using face ID, you huff, angrily putting in your passcode before turning the screen to Lando. 

He scans the screen. It’s an instagram post by some F1 gossip page. He recognised the user as one who often tried to paint him as some womaniser, taking any regular interaction with a woman as a sign he was sleeping with them. 

This post, however, is different. He sees you first, mouth in a tense line as you stare blankly at your boyfriend. Then he sees the caption. 

The anger returns, festering and dark, this time directed to your dickhead of a boyfriend. “What did he do?”

You sigh, locking the screen and pulling your hand back into the duvet cocoon. “I said I wanted to go home because your race was about to start. He got angry and accused me of being in love with you. I pointed out that I was literally on a date with him. He called me every name under the sun, told me we were over and then stormed off. I’m sorry, Lan, this isn’t good publicity for you.”

He scoffed, eyebrows raising skyward. “I dont give a fuck about the publicity, I care about you. How dare he speak to you like that?” He can tell the angers bleeding into his tone but he’s about 2 seconds away from finding out where that prick lives and beating him over the head with a padel racket. “Are you ok? Do you want to put on a chick flick? Order a takeaway? Go to a rage room and plaster his face across every breakable thing?” Moving closer, he rests his hand against your jaw, nudging it between your tear stained skin and the soft duvet. “Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

Sighing, you nuzzle against his hand. “None of that, Lan. I just want to cry and forget what happened last night.”

Swallowing his pride, he nods. “Do you want me to talk to him? I can tell him we’re not in love with each other. Just best friends.” The ending comes out a little bitterly, but he hopes you’re too distracted to notice. 

You smile up at him affectionately. The simple curve is enough to make his heart flutter from where it had picked itself off the floor and wormed its way back into his chest. 

Reaching up to lay your hand over his, lacing your fingers between his, you sandwich it between the warmth he so craved. “I just want to be with you. You make everything better.”

He reflects your smile, brushing his thumb along your cheekbone. You wanted him, just him, and for now that was more than enough. 

[lxvvie]

I need more free use! Simon but I’ve got no ideas what his s/o could do with him🫠🥲

Free use!Simon but instead of sex, it's... intimacy and affection.

Simon who fully expects you fuck him dumb when he comes home from a fairly long deployment but you pamper him instead and he's equal parts taken back and enjoying it because why the fuck not?

Simon who anticipates your hand going into his sweatpants when you come up from behind him but nope, your hands stay firmly on his hips. You kiss his shoulder, tell him he's the most beautiful thing you've ever laid eyes on, and holy fucking shit, his face is hot—

Simon who finds himself on the receiving end of a nice session of body worshipping. You cornered him right after he got out of the shower and you made sure to kiss and caress any and every scar and bruise you could, especially the recent ones. By the time you're done, Simon's positive every part of his body is covered in goosebumps and that he fucking whimpered. Good boy.

Simon who was so goddamn sure you were gonna leave a hickey on his neck but all you did was kiss his Adam's apple ever so softly and he could choke on the things he's feeling right now and fuck, you're killing him, doll—

Simon who thought you were going for your signature ass grab in public of all places but you simply rest your hand on the small of his back. And keep it there. Bloody fuckin' hell.

Simon who finds himself under you in bed. Not that he's complaining, mind you. And then you begin covering his face in gentle kisses. Every fucking inch, he feels the softness of your lips and his eyes flutter closed and yeah, his face is hotter than ever and his cheeks must be red as shit at this point. You tell him you love him on your final kiss and he just crumbles.

Simon who thinks he received nudes or some shit on his phone while he was away on another mission but no, it's one of the sweetest damn texts he's ever received. You wish him luck, you tell him you miss him, you tell him you can't wait to have him back in your arms again and he swears his heart is about to burst. And yes, Johnny, he's absolutely dandy. Thanks for asking.

[enh4s]

u want some ideas? girl i got u, but apologise early if some of my ideas are something you already wrote

-heeseung coming home and wants nothing but him in your pussy only to find out you riding a dildo while waiting for him. so he end up fucking you with him and the dildo

-jay who had an online meeting at home so u tease him by walking only wearing nothing but his shirt well it ends up him edging you the whole night

-jake your subby baby who tries to dom, you thought he's cant do it but oh boy he proof you wrong

-sunghoon teasing you in public by using vibrator in public

im sorry if its too much

I literally want to write all of them🫠

Starting with Heeseung one!!

"Impatience looks sexy on you"

pairing: bf! heeseung, horny af y/n

genre: pure smut without plot?

warnings: unprotected sex, anal, toy, dirty talk, breeding

author's note: I hope you'll enjoy this, short because I felt like making it short but spicyyyy (I want heeseung so bad)

Heeseung came home from work, tired and hungry. He had a long day of meetings and now he just wanted to relax in his bed with his girlfriend. He walked into the house, taking off his shoes at the door as he always did. He heard noises coming from the bedroom, and he smiled to himself.

Heeseung walked into the bedroom, his eyes widening in surprise at what he saw. You were lying on the bed, your legs spread wide and a dildo buried deep inside your pussy.

You were moaning and whimpering, your fingers working furiously at your clit. Heeseung's cock twitched in his pants as he watched his girl pleasure herself. He walked over to the bed and knelt down next to you, reaching out to touch your thigh.

"What are you doing?" you asked, your voice breathless.

"I'm going to help you cum," he said, his voice low and husky. He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard on it as he reached between your legs to play with the dildo inside you. You moaned and arched your back, pushing your breast further into his mouth. He sucked harder, nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth.

"Oh god," you moaned, your hips bucking against his hand as he worked the dildo in and out of your drenched cunt.

He could feel you're getting closer and closer to orgasm, and he felt the urge to make sure you came before he fucked you properly.

He pulled his mouth away from your nipple and moved down to your pussy, licking and sucking at your clit as he continued to play with the dildo. You were a moaning mess now, your body writhing beneath him as you approached the edge of orgasm.

He could feel your muscles tighten around the dildo, and he knew that you were close. He increased the speed of his movements, determined to bring you over the edge.

"Oh fuck!" you screamed, your body convulsing as you came hard. Heeseung kept licking and sucking at your clit, making sure that you got every last drop of pleasure from your orgasm. When you finally came down from her high, he stood up and stripped off his clothes, revealing his hard cock. It was twitching, it was all red and both of you knew that he craved you so bad.

"You're not done yet," he said, his voice low and husky. He grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over onto all fours, positioning himself behind you.

You gasped as he entered you, his cock filling your cunt completely. He gripped your hips tightly, thrusting into you with a primal force.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice rough with desire. He continued to pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit as he filled you up over and over again.

You moaned and cried out, your body rocking back and forth as he drove himself deeper and deeper into you.

“You couldn't wait for your man to fuck you properly, huh? You were so impatient to play with your little toy? Maybe we should use it again on you since you like it that much? My pretty, little slut" He said, spanking your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Heeseung. I couldn't help it. I was so horny and needed to cum so bad." You said, your voice trembling with desire.

"Please, Heeseung... Please fuck me harder!" He obliged your request, thrusting into you with a renewed vigor. He took a dildo in his hand, pushing the tip in your asshole.

You screamed in pain, but then you started to enjoy it. He started to fuck you with both his cock and the dildo, and you felt like you were being stretched to your limits. But you loved it, and you begged him to keep going. Heeseung continued to fuck you, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt while the dildo pushed into your ass.

You were screaming and crying out in pleasure, your body shaking with each thrust. Heeseung reached around and began playing with your clit, his fingers moving quickly as he brought you closer and closer to another orgasm.

"Oh god, yes! Yes, please don't stop!" you cried out, your body tensing up as you approached the peak of your second orgasm. Heeseung continued to pound into you, his pace increasing as he felt you're nearing your climax.

He could feel her muscles tightening around his cock. He was so rough with you, his own orgasm building inside him.

"Yes, oh yes! I'm cumming! Oh God Heeseung, it feels so good!” you continued screaming, your body shaking as you came all over his cock.

Heeseung kept thrusting in and out of you, he felt your juices coating his cock.

"So needy for my cock, and mine only, huh? You love it when I'm destroying you like this, my little plaything?" He asked, biting your neck lightly.

"Yes, yes! I love it!" you moaned. Heeseung thrust his cock into you hard and fast, fucking you with all he had left.

"Fuck me harder! Harder!" you begged. Heeseung obliged, pounding your pussy as hard as he could until he couldn't hold back anymore and came inside of you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good clenching around me like this” He was groaning onto your soft skin on your back. 

Heeseung pulled out, rolled off of you and pulled you close to him. He held you in his arms, breathing heavily. “Impatience looks so sexy on you" he said. You smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you," you said softly, resting your head on his chest.

"I love you too," he replied. "So, what's next?" you asked.

Heeseung thought for a moment. "Well, I think we should take a break from sex for a while" he said. You looked at him in surprise. "What? Why?" you asked. Heeseung smiled and kissed your forehead. 

“Well, I have to make sure you still know how to walk” He laughed, before pulling you closer for a kiss.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Tired

Summary: You had spent weeks looking forward to your date night with Javi, but once the day actually arrives, it seems like everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong. Lucky for you, Javi knows just how to make your day better.

Word Count: 5.8K

Pairing: Dad!Javier Peña x Wife!reader (Reader's nickname is Osita, no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) unprotected p in v sex, bathtub sex (hehehe) vaginal fingering, creampie, praise kink, big ole nasty breeding kink (listen, who am I to deny this man as many children as he wants), alcohol/being tipsy, food/eating, mom guilt, Chucho being the cutest Abuelito, Javi winning the award for dad/husband/dilf of the year 😩🥵

A/N: .... Well. Here we are again 🫠 When I tell you have made a rent free residency in my head... I do not kid you AT ALL. This has been my favorite story for our sweet little family so far. It also may or may not be how Harper is conceived OOPS 🤷🏼‍♀️ I love them, your honor.

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

Every day for the past three weeks, you had been counting down to the 19th on your family calendar stuck to the side of your fridge, where the words “date night” had been scribbled in Javi’s messy handwriting. While you loved your girls, it had been a while since just you and Javi had a night to yourselves, so when Chuhco offered to babysit, the 4 of you couldn’t have been more thrilled- You and Javi got an evening alone, and Lucy and Elliot got to spend the night with their favorite Abuelito (Grandpa) at the ranch, getting lots of quality time with the animals, and one too many late night snacks. 

You had been looking forward to this day for weeks, and that’s why when the 19th finally arrived, you couldn’t have been more disappointed that everything that could have gone wrong that day, felt like it had. 

Lucy insisting she help with breakfast before preschool and dropping the rest of the egg carton on your kitchen floor. 

Elliot refusing to nap while Lucy was at school, leaving you with no time to get any of the things done around the house you had planned. 

The dog getting into the bathroom garbage and then throwing up 14 qtips on your carpet. 

The girls having a meltdown at the grocery store because they couldn’t bring home one of the balloons from the end of the checkout aisle. 

Going on an hour long manhunt for Flipper, Lucy’s favorite stuffed penguin she insisted had to go with her to Chucho’s, which ended up being hidden under a blanket in her bed. 

Snapping at the girls out of frustration as they chased each other through the kitchen while you were trying to finish making them dinner. 

Your pounding headache and tired body from feeling like you had been doing nothing but scrambling all day long just to stay afloat. 

And now, with Lucy teaming up with Elliot in their no-nap strike, you hadn’t even had time to shower or get ready for your date by the time Javi had gotten home, leaving you with barely under an hour  before you had to leave to make it to your dinner reservations on time. 

You wanted so desperately to just forget about the shitshow that had been your Friday, but try as you might, you couldn’t help but find yourself in an overwhelmed and grouchy mood. A mood that you did not want to be in on your long awaited date night with Javi, your internal battle of emotions only dampening your spirit further. 

As you heard the garage door open and Javi’s familiar footsteps make their way down the hallway, you fought with everything in you to try and put on the happiest face you could, as if you were going to be able to will yourself out of your funk to enjoy the night with your husband. 

“Hi, Hermosa.” Javi beamed, setting down his bag to wrap you in a hug, pressing a soft kiss onto your forehead before looking down at you in slight confusion, seeing that you were still in leggings and one of his oversized t-shirts, hair plopped up in a messy bun with very little time left before the 4 of you needed to head out to Chucho’s to make it to your dinner reservations. “Listen, baby, you know I think you look absolutely stunning in anything, but I do think the restaurant may be a touch nicer than my 20 year old t-shirt from college.” 

“I know, sorry, it’s just been- It’s been a day. The girls are in the living room playing, do you mind getting their bags and watching them until we have to go so I can shower?” You tried your best to force a smile up at Javi, who was now cradling your jaw in his large palm, tracing his thumb along your cheek. His big brown eyes stared back at you, almost as if he knew there was something off that you didn’t want to get into right now, planting another kiss in your messy hair as you let out a deeper than intended exhale. 

“Of course, Osita. Anything else I can do to help while you get ready?”” 

“No, just that. Thanks, Jav.” 

“DADDY!” Two pairs of tiny feet pattered down the hallway, Lucy and Elliot bolting towards their dad with arms outstretched, Javi now squatting down to greet them with a smile stretched across his face, almost as wide as theirs. 

“Ahhhh, there are my pollitas! C’mere mis amorcitas (my little loves).” Scooping the girls up in his arms, Javi picked up Elliot and Lucy, resting one on each hip, peppering little kisses over their faces, making them erupt in laughter. “Let’s head back to the living room so we can let Momma get ready before we leave for Abuelito’s house, sí?” 

“Okay, Daddy! Will you play horsies with us?” Lucy squealed, wrapping her little arms around Javi’s neck, giving him a hug. 

“Of course, Lucy Goosey.” Javi turned back to give you one last smile as he whisked the girls off to the living room, the sight of him carrying your daughters with such genuine joy and happiness being the first thing that had brought genuine relief today. 

The relief was short lived though, now looking up at the clock to see you were down to 45 minutes to shower and make yourself look like a halfway decent human. You frantically sped through your routine, cranking up the temperature of the water in the shower to as hot as it could go as you tried to wash away the remnants of your day. Unfortunately, the water could have been a million degrees and it wouldn’t have been enough- You forgot you were out of shampoo, having to settle for Javi’s instead, and after trying to speed shave, you realized as you were drying yourself off, you had completely forgotten to shave the bottom half of your right leg. 

You were thankful for the loud fan in your master bathroom, knowing it was enough to drown your tears as you stared yourself down in the mirror, feeling like an absolute mess. You didn’t feel excited, or pretty, or any of the things you wanted to feel before going out on your date. Truth be told, you felt like a shitty, worn down gremlin of a mom who just wanted to do nothing more than curl up in a blanket and hide away from the world for the rest of the night. Taking a long inhale, you shook your head, forcing yourself to wipe the wetness away from your cheeks to finish getting ready, and while with your hair and makeup done, and cute flowy dress wrapped around your body, you looked externally  better than you had an hour ago, internally, you still didn’t feel much better. 

You grabbed your coat and purse, making your way back into the living room to see Javi changed into navy dress pants and sport coat to match, with a white button down underneath, sitting on the couch with one daughter on each side, arms wrapped around them while they read “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish” for what you were sure must have been the 17th time since you had gotten into the shower, considering it was the only book Lucy had wanted to read in the past week. Hearing you step through the doorway, Javi’s face lit up, biting down on his lip as he nudged the girls, pointing towards you. “Pollitas, look. Doesn’t Mommy look so pretty?” 

“You’re so beautiful, Mommy!” Lucy grinned, bolting up off the couch, wrapping her arms around your leg, squeezing it tightly. 

“So pweety, Mommy!” Elliot cooed, toddling over to join her sister, clutching around your other leg. 

You could feel the tears beginning to well behind your eyes again, seeing your little girls attached at your hip and your sweet husband staring back at you, wondering how in the world had given you 3 people who loved you so much on the days you loved yourself so little. You let out a little gulp, trying to choke back your sobs, leaning down to kiss each of the girls on the head. 

“Thank you Munchkins. Not as beautiful as my little chickens or as handsome as your Daddy, but that’s okay. You ready to go to Abuelito’s?” You mumbled through your words, your tone now making Javi’s brow scrunch in concern, giving you that look he gave you when he knew something was bothering you and you were being too stubborn to admit it. With enthusiastic squeals from the girls, they were practically running out the front door to the car, you following close behind them with their overnight bags, Javi following behind you just as closely, desperate to figure out what was on your mind. 

The drive to Chucho’s was fairly quiet besides Lucy and Elliot’s sing-along to the Lion King soundtrack that had been a permanent fixture in your car for the past few car rides. As the girls half babbled the words in the backseat, Javi reached over, resting his hand on your thigh and rubbing soft circles against your skin, giving you that look that said, “I know something’s wrong and you’re not telling me”, you exchanging back with an incredibly unconvincing, “It’s not a big deal, don’t worry about it.” 

As you pulled up to the Peña ranch, Chucho was already outside, waiting on the porch in his rocking chair, his face beaming just as sweetly as Lucy and Elliot’s as they ran out of the car to greet their grandpa. 

“Hola, nietas! (Hi, granddaughters!)” Chucho cooed, letting out a little grunt as Lucy and Elliot barreled into him, squeezing him in their grasp. “How are my favorite little ladies?” 

“Hi Abuelito!” 

The girls giggled as Chucho kissed them both on the cheek, smiling up at you and Javi as you carried the girls bags to the front door. “Oh díos mio, girls. Look at how nice your mamá and papá look tonight!” 

“Thanks Pops.” Javi laughed, setting one of the bags down on the porch. “You still okay if we come pick these two monsters up tomorrow morning?” 

“Monstruos? My sweet nietas? Never.” Chucho laughed, giving the girls a little shake as the two of them giggled at their grandpa. “Come by whenever you’d like. You know I am more than happy to have these two as long as you’ll let me.” 

“Thanks, Chucho.” You nodded, setting another bag down next to the one Javi had placed on the porch. “Do you need us to do any-” 

“Mija, I have everything I need. Don’t worry about a thing. Now go. The two of you deserve a nice night out. Me and the girls will be just fine, won’t we?” Chucho grinned down at Lucy and Elliot, bouncing in excitement. 

“Thanks, Dad. Be good for your Abuelito, sí? I told him if you’re naughty, you’re gonna have to go sleep out with the cows.” Javi teased, kneeling down to the girls level, giving them a little tickle and kiss before wrapping them in his arms. “Te amo, Pollitas. (I love you, little chickens).” 

“Bye girls, we’ll see you tomorrow, okay? We love you.” You joined Javi, crouching down to give your girls one last hug and kiss before they were already halfway through the front door, bursting into Chucho’s house with excitement.

You thanked Chucho again, making your way back to the car, pulling down the dusty, dirt driveway before making your way back on the road. “God, I’m convinced he loves those girls more than anything else on the face of this earth. I’m sure that means he won’t mind keeping them just a little longer tomorrow, huh, Hermosa?” Javi smirked, once again placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a little squeeze before realizing you had been staring out the passenger side window from the moment you had gotten in the car, trying desperately to snap yourself out of the terrible funk of your day you just couldn’t seem to shake. 

You felt the wetness beginning to pool under your eyelids, your breaths becoming shaky and weary, trying to pull yourself together from the tired, guilty and grumpy mess that you were, but it was no use. “Hermosa? You okay?” Javi asked again, confused by your silence, gripping your leg a little tighter, the sweet and gentle tone of his voice being the final straw that broke the camel’s back. You let your tears fall freely, your sobs becoming louder and heavier as you shook your head back and forth, Javi immediately pulling over the truck to the side of the dirt road, unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you into a hug as you cried against his chest. “Baby. Baby what’s wrong? Hey, shhhh, it’s okay, Osita. I’m here, it’s okay.” 

Javi held you, letting you take your time to cry before trying to prod about the reason behind it, feeling you take long, exasperated deep breaths against him before pulling away, wiping away the tears that had been flowing down your face. “It’s been such a shitty day, Jav. I felt like such a bad mom, and I’m so tired and I’ve been looking forward to this date with you for so long and I’m just fucking exhausted. I’m so sorry. Our date hasn’t even started yet and I’m already ruining it.” It wasn’t long before you were sobbing again, leaning back into the broadness of Javi’s body as he immediately wrapped his arms around you, gently cradling the back of your head as you cried, feeling his own heart break from seeing how hard you were on yourself. 

“Hermosa…” He cooed, pressing you against his chest while he ran his fingers through your hair. “Baby… Listen to me, okay? You are not a bad mom. You are the most wonderful mother in the world to our girls. I have no fucking clue how you do what you do all day long, but there is no one else in the world I would rather have to help raise them with. You are so sweet and patient with them, God, they’re little mini versions of you and I couldn’t be happier. You are an amazing mom, you understand?” 

“It didn’t feel like it today. God, they were so tough today and it was exhausting, I yelled at them today for running in the kitchen and I felt so bad, I just- fuck- being a mom is so hard, Jav. I love it, I do, I love those girls so much, but today I felt like I was running for worst parent of the year award. And now I can’t even pull it together enough for our date that we’ve both been looking forward to. I’m so sorry, Javi.” 

“Osita, you are not ruining anything. Baby, if I get to spend time with you, I’m happy. I don’t care where we go or what we do, if I’m with you, it doesn’t matter. So, that being said,” he paused, tilting your head up towards him, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb, “we’re gonna go home, pick up pizza, open a bottle of wine, sit and soak in the tub for as long as you want to, and then I’m gonna make sweet, sweet love to my beautiful, amazing wife until she knows just how much I love and appreciate everything she does for our family. Okay?” You let out a little huff of laughter, a small smile finally appearing in the corners of your lips as you helped to wipe your tears away. 

“Are you sure? You planned dinner reservations and I-” 

“I’ve never been so sure. I love you, Osita. You are everything to me, and I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to make sure you remember it.” 

“God, now you’re gonna make me cry even more, you dummy.” You laughed, Javi joining in as you gave him a playful nudge. “I love you too, Jav. You’re way too good to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” As Javi’s sweet brown eyes locked with yours, the weight in your chest began to ease, wondering how in the world you had gotten so goddamn lucky. Buckling himself back in, and shifting the car into drive, Javi turned around, changing directions back to home, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Can we get breadsticks with the pizza, too?” 

“Whatever you want, baby, it’s yours.” 

With an extra large pizza and breadsticks in your lap, the drive back to your house was spent in a much lighter mood than your drive to drop off the girls at their grandpa’s. You switched out the Lion King disk in your CD player for Fleetwood Mac, the two of you happily singing along to “I Don’t Wanna Know” as you pulled back into the driveway of your house. 

You were greeted by your dog, Bear, wagging his tail in delight at your presence from the comfort of the couch, rolling over to show you his belly, Javi gladly obliging in giving him some scratches before Bear gladly put himself back to sleep, curled up against a throw pillow. “Old man could really give two shits about us being home, huh?” Javi laughed, giving the dog one last pat before making his way back over to you in the kitchen, already shoving a cheesy piece of pizza into your mouth. 

“I think he’s just as relieved from a night off from the gremlins as we are.” You laughed, catching a stringy piece of cheese that had fallen from your lips, making you and Javi both chuckle. “Is it bad if we eat pizza and drink wine in the tub?” You raised an eyebrow at Javi, gesturing towards your food, anxious to take a relaxing soak, your tub used more frequently by Lucy and Elliot than either of the two of you these days. 

“Of course not, Osita. Why don’t you get stuff ready upstairs and I’ll bring wine and pizza up? What wine do you want?” 

“I mean… It is date night. Should we break out the nice wine the Murphy’s got us the last time they came over? We did say we were saving it for a special occasion.” You smirked, holding up your half eaten piece of pizza to toast to your failed date night out, you and Javi both shaking your heads in laughter. Javi reached up in the cabinet above the fridge, pulling out the bottle and examining it before getting out a bottle opener and popping off the top. 

“God, the amount of shit Steve would give me to know that this got opened to be drank in our fucking bathtub…” 

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” You winked, giving Javi a kiss on the cheek before taking the last bite of your pizza. “Meet you upstairs?” 

“Can’t wait.” 

After making your way up the stairs and into your master bathroom, you cranked on the water in the tub, making it hot enough for your liking, but not hot enough Javi would complain about it being the surface of the sun. You thought that you had another set of bubbles to put in the bath besides the ones that you used for the girls, but after digging around in the bathroom cabinet, you had to settle for the bright pink, birthday cake scented bottle Lucy had insisted on getting during your last shopping trip. After the tub was full and bubbles were mixed and foaming, you stripped your clothes, dropping them on the tile floor in a heap next to the bathtub before tying up your hair and stepping into the water, sinking down to your neck and letting out a deep sigh as you closed your eyes in relief. You could feel the tension beginning to ease from your body, taking a moment to sit in the sweet silence before you heard Javi’s footsteps trailing up the stairs, gently swinging open the bathroom door, pizza and wine in his hands and a soft smile on his face.  

“Give me one more second, okay?” Setting down his things on the counter, Javi exited back out of the bathroom, quickly returning with a handful of candles and lighter, placing them around the room and lighting them all before turning off the overhead lights, the light of orange and yellow flames flickering against the walls in a soft, warm glow. 

“Wow, didn’t know I was going to the spa tonight. Very romantic of you, Jav.” You grinned, crossing your arms over the edge of the tub, resting your chin overtop of them as you stared at Javi, now undressing himself of his own clothes, throwing them into the pile with yours. “And the spa has hot naked men bringing me pizza and wine? God, I should come here more often.” You giggled, looking up at him in admiration as he passed you over your plate and glass before grabbing his own and stepping in to join you, sliding down the porcelain on the opposite side of the tub. “Thank you for this, Javi. I know it’s not what we had planned, but I really needed this.” 

“Of course, mi amor (my love).” Javi smiled at you, bringing his slice of pizza halfway up to his mouth before taking an over exaggerated sniff of the bubbles below him. “Why does the bath smell like a birthday cake?” 

“I thought I had other bubbles but the only ones I could find were Lucy and Ellie’s so we have birthday cake flavored bubbles.” The two of you laughed, shaking your heads as you bit down into your pizza, knowing that there was no one else in the world you could be happier to spend a night in a tub full of birthday cake bubbles with. 

After you had finished your dinner and were a few more glasses of wine in, you had shifted in the tub so that you were settled in between Javi’s legs,  resting with your back against his chest and leaning your head back on your shoulder with his hands wrapped around your body, the two of you chatting and laughing away, not knowing or caring how much time had gone by. You had covered everything from Javi’s day at work, to vacation plans, now to Lucy’s interest in soccer, which had been a hot topic of conversation. 

“I know, I was talking to some of the other moms at the preschool about it, and they said they’d have their girls do soccer too, they just don’t have anyone to coach. They’re trying to find one of the dads to do it so they can start in the spring.” 

“Are you trying to get me to coach a soccer team?” Javi laughed, rubbing his hands up and down the length of your arms. “Baby, I know absolutely nothing about teaching 4 year olds how to play soccer, you would be better at it than I would.” 

“Well exactly, they’re 4 Jav, it can’t be rocket science. I think you would be good at it. You know Lucy would whip everyone into shape to make sure they listened to you.” 

“Honestly, she would probably be a better coach than I would.” 

“She honestly would. I’m being serious though, baby! You’re so sweet and patient with the girls. Plus, it’d be good eye candy to watch from the sidelines.” You giggled, tilting your head up towards Javi, biting down on your lip. 

“Good eye candy, huh?” Javi smirked back down at you, sliding his hand down your arm to your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“Mmmmhhmmm. I could get to show off my hot, handsome husband and what a great dad he is for his girls. Make all the other moms jealous.” You cooed, shifting your body to face towards him, straddling over his lap, running your hands through the dark curls at the nape of his neck. You could feel Javi’s hands beginning to shift with you, now wrapping his arms around the small of your back, grabbing a fistfull of your ass, kneading the soft flesh in his hands. You tilted your head, letting your lips land tenderly on his before his tongue was swiping in the opening of mouth, the tenderness transforming into a passionate electricity. You let your hands roam down his neck towards his chest, sliding down under the water over his stomach, palming at his dick, already half hard in your hands. “Such a good Daddy, that maybe…” You moaned in between kisses, “Maybe it’s time for you to give me another baby.” 

Javi paused, his eyes going wide at your comment, his jaw almost hanging open as he let out a little gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. “Hermosa… Baby, are you serious?” He couldn't help but let a boyish grin escape from his lips, his face lighting up brighter than a little kid on Christmas. 

You and Javi had agreed you had both wanted a third, but decided to hold off until Elliot was past the 18 month mark before trying again. Javi had been dying for another kid, and had been using as much self restraint as he could to keep from asking you every day if the two of you could start trying for your third child after Elliot had turned a year and a half. It felt ironic that the circumstances you found yourself in to ask him if he wanted to have another baby were because of how exhausted you were from the two you already had, but God, after thinking about him coaching that soccer team, there was something about the thought of your sweet, loving husband with another baby attached to his hip that made any ounce of willpower you had left absolutely dissipate. If Javi wasn’t hard enough from your touch, the thought alone of getting you pregnant again was more than plenty. 

“You wanna put another baby in me, Jav?” You smirked, wrapping your hand around his cock, gently stroking it as he groaned, letting his head fall to your shoulder, quietly laughing to himself, almost as if he couldn’t believe his ears. 

“Fuck me…”  Javi hissed, tugging you closer towards him, the sudden movement making water splash over the sides of the tub. One of the hands grabbing your ass snaked around to your front, grazing over your hip and inner thigh before making its way between your legs and circling against your clit. “Fuck, I want to so badly. It’s all I’ve been thinking about these past few weeks, how much I wanna grow our family, give the girls another sibling, see you all beautiful and pregnant carrying our perfect baby again. Will you let me, Osita? Let me fuck another baby into you, Momma?” The pressure of his fingers on your sensitive bundle of nerves had you moaning, letting out a soft whimper as his two fingers pressed deep into your heat, slowly rocking his fingers along the soft spongy spot inside you that he knew made you crumble. 

“Oh my God, yes. Fuck- fuck, I need you to, Javi, please.” You whined, Javi’s mouth now working its way down to your breasts, sucking and flicking at your pebbled nipples as his fingers fucked into you deeper and harder, burying your head in the crook of his neck, the sensation of his tongue and hands making your pussy begin to flutter. The heel of his palm dug deeper into your clit, pressure building in your belly as your hips rocked against his hand, each roll making more and more water overflow onto the floor as you braced yourself, digging your fingers into the skin of Javi’s broad back as that sweet and familiar tingle built at the base of your spine. 

“That’s it, sweet girl, I know you’re close. Give me one on my fingers and then I swear, I’m gonna fuck you so full of me, I’ll get you pregnant tonight.” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, feeling your cunt begin to clench around his fingers, your breathing becoming heavy and shaky as you moaned. Suddenly, you felt the coil in your belly snap, making you cry out as your orgasm ripped through your body, flooding every inch of you with euphoria and pleasure as you reached your peak. 

Javi placed languid kisses and nips down your neck and collarbone as you slumped into him, coming down from your high with labored breaths, finally composing yourself enough to sit up to see the satisfied grin spread across his cheeks, a lustful and mischievous look pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he stared at your blissed out face. “How much you wanna bet?” You smirked, biting down on your lip before leaning in to tug at Javi’s earlobe with your teeth as you scooted closer over his lap, shifting your body up in the water of the tub to hover over his cock, carefully guiding it to line up with your entrance. 

“Bet what, Osita?” 

“Bet that you get me pregnant tonight?” You mewled, slowly sinking yourself down onto Javi’s length, savoring the sweet sting and stretch of him inside you until you had bottomed out, feeling his tip brush against your cervix. “That 9 months from now, we’ll have one more baby that gets to fill another room in our house?” Gently, you began swirling your hips, letting Javi’s cock stay buried deep inside you, splitting you open in the best way possible, almost making you speechless. 

“Jesus Christ, Hermosa…” Javi sighed, digging his fingertips into your sides, guiding your bottom half as it rolled in his lap. “I’d bet anything, because I’m gonna fuck myself so deep inside you, it’ll take. You want another baby? I’ll give you another baby, Osita. I’ll give you anything you want. My beautiful wife, amazing mom to our girls, fuck- you deserve everything.” 

Moans escaped from both your parted lips as you began to raise yourself up and down along Javi’s length, now punching along the spot inside you that had your mind going numb. His fingers circled against your already sensitive clit as he thrust up into you, the feeling of him all consuming, even as the lukewarm water of the bath swirled between you. You draped your arms around his neck as his free one wrapped around the small of your back, your bodies melting together as one as you pushed and pulled with each stroke. 

You could feel your cunt beginning to clench again, heat blooming in your belly with each swirl of your hips, tugging at the damp curls of Javi’s hair at the nape of his neck as his thrusts became more frantic and sloppy, telling he was just as close to reaching his own high as you were. “Fuck, Javi, fuck- I’m so close baby, oh shit- don’t stop.” You whined into the crook of his neck, pulling yourself even tighter against his body. 

“I’m not gonna stop, Osita. Not gonna stop until fuck you full of me and fuck another baby into you. That what you want, Hermosa?” Javi grunted through gritted teeth, pounding deeper and faster into you with each word, the water from the tub sloshing and spilling onto the tile floor below you. 

“Yes, fuck- oh my god, yes, fuck Javi, oh shit- fuck baby, I’m gonna-ahhhhhhhh.” Once again, your orgasm radiated through every inch of your body, making your legs shake and mind go blank as you cried out Javi’s name, practically melting into him as he continued to thrust into you with a desperate ferocity, close to his own end. Javi’s arms wrapped around your back, caging you against his chest, fingertips gripping in the soft skin of your shoulder blades as he fucked into you, babbling incoherently. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. Fuck, I’m close too, Hermosa. Oh fuck- God, I can’t wait to see you pregnant again. So fucking beautiful carrying our baby. You’re such a- fuck- good mom to our girls, my fucking perfect wife, I’m so luck-ahhhhhhh.” With one final thrust inside you, you could feel Javi painting your walls in his spend, milking himself of every last drop, his breath ragged and heavy as he leaned into you, your chests rising and falling in sync as you came to. 

“Well…” You laughed to yourself, shaking your head against Javi’s shoulder where it had been resting, now lifting up to grin at his blissed out face, “Safe to say we should probably clean this tub out before we let the girls use it again.” 

Javi joined in your laugher, the two of you giggling to yourselves over your antics, peeking over the side of the tub to see the giant puddles pooling on your bathroom floor. “I mean, the water had soap in it, so at least the floor is clean.” Javi smirked, cupping his hand around your jaw, pressing his smiling lips to yours. 

“Clean, really? Not like we need any extra towels or anything to wipe up all the water we spilled all over the floor because now it’s just magically clean, huh Jav?” You teased, giving him a playful nudge, Javi rolling your eyes at your heavy dose of sarcasm. ���We probably should get out and wipe all of this up. Any longer in here and I think our future kid is gonna come out just as pruney as we are.” 

“Dork. I’ll clean everything up. Why don’t you go put on pajamas and I’ll meet you in bed, okay?” 

“Javi, I was just teasing. I am half the reason for this mess, I can help clean it up and-” 

Javi silenced the rest of your sentence with his lips, capturing the rest of your words in his mouth. “I know you can, Osita. I want to. Let me clean up. Can’t have you working too hard, Momma. Gotta make sure you stay nice and rested so you can grow baby number 3.” 

“You are ridiculous, you know that? You just gonna magically will me to be pregnant after tonight?” You sighed, laughing as the two of you made your way out of the tub, wrapping yourselves up in the fluffy towels you had left out on the bathroom counter, Javi draping his towel around the both of you as he leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair. 

“I told you, I’d bet you anything. 5 bucks.” 

“5 bucks what, smartass?” 

“5 bucks says you don’t get your period and we find out you're pregnant by the end of the month.” 

“I’ll tell you one thing, if you are anything, Javier Jesús Peña…” You smirked, pressing up on your tiptoes to peck another kiss on his lips, “it’s confident. I hope you’re right, but I’ll take your bet.” 

If Javi was also anything, it wasn’t wrong. Because 4 weeks later, after a missed period and 3 sets of double pink lines on your pregnancy tests, baby Peña number 3 was on their way. So when you handed Javi 5 dollars and a little white box with one of your tests, you couldn’t help but laugh to know that even though your future daughter was the product of a date night gone wrong, it couldn't have felt more right knowing you were lucky enough to grow your family by one more with the man you loved more than anything else in the world.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper

[here2bbtstrash]

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.

[strniohoeee]

Disdain

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Synopsis: Matt wants to keep Y/N, but won’t be her man’s, so what happens when they go to a Halloween party, and Matt sees something he doesn’t like🫠

Warnings⚠️: This is straight up SMUT. There’s smacking, degrading, manhandling. It’s just filthy sooo read at your own risk

Song for the imagine: Drama-Roy Woods ft. Drake, Thong Song- Sisqo

This story is 18+, so if you’re a minor DO NOT INTERACT⚠️

Matt and I had been in this weird gray area of being a couple, but not really being a couple. Like he was so sweet to me, and would take me out on dates and treat me like his girl, but then wouldn’t call me his girlfriend or be with me publically.

I hated it so much because he would treat me like I was his, but really I wasn’t, and anytime I brought this up he would go on this whole rant of “it doesn’t matter . Who cares about labels” My issue with that was he’s had girlfriends publically in the past, so I wasn’t sure what changed when it came to me.

About a month ago when he and I were doing really well, and acting like a real couple we decided we wanted to be Jessica Rabbit and Roger Rabbit for this Halloween party his brothers and I got invited to. Slowly I started looking into buying the costume parts, but when he started pissing me off I had only purchased the red sparkly strapless dress.

About two weeks before the party I decided I was no longer going to match costumes with him, but I didn’t tell him I wanted him to look like an idiot. Just how he made me look like one

The night of the party I had went over to the triplets house to get ready with them. Still Matt didn’t suspect a thing, but I had been distant these past two weeks not really talking to him or hugging or kissing him. He just assumed we were on our “break” and he didn’t really care. Not shocked

The party started at 11, and we were all finishing up our costumes. We decided to all walk out one by one and show them off.

Nick was Corlines other dad, and Madi was the other mother, Chris was Steve Harrington, and Matt came out dressed as Roger rabbit.

The only person who knew I changed my costume was Nick, and he was trying to keep his composure looking at Matt dressed like a fool.

“Okay Y/N come out” Madi said clapping her hands together

I walked out in my strapless sparkly red dress that pushed my boobs up nice and high, and the slit was from my bikini line down to my ankles. Sadly I wasn't going to be going commando as my whole ass would be out with a slight movement, so I had on a red thong. I had a gold leg garter that had a red heart on it, and my black stiletto heels. I had my makeup done like a sad flapper

“What do we think” I said spinning around

“BETTY BOOP” Chris screamed jumping up and down. Betty boop was one of Chris weird cartoon crushes

I nodded my head at this giving them a slight spin around

“You look so fucking hot” Madi came screeching over to me and grabbing my hands

“Y/N this costume is too good” Nick said in a giddy way

“What the fuck” Matt finally says with a straight face

“Oh I forgot to tell you I didn’t want to do a matching couple costume since we aren’t a couple” I said giving him a fake frown

“Ouuu she got you good” Chris said laughing at his idiot brother

“Whatever I look like an idiot, and I’m changing my costume” he said standing up abruptly and going to his room

About 10 minutes later he came back downstairs dressed as a cowboy. He looked hot I can’t deny, but he wasn’t my man so fuck him

We had all piled into the car as Matt drove us to the party at Larrays house. We knocked on the door and Larry opened it

“BITCHHHHH yall look so fucking good” he said letting us walk into his house

“Okay matty poo with the slutty little cowboy costume” Larry said, and to this Matt gave him a half smile, and then he walked away from us

“Oh what crawled up his ass” Larry said looking at us

“Y/N decided to not match costumes with him, so now he’s all pissy” Chris said

“Oh boy bye, Y/N you look so hot like Okayy with the red thong I see you” he said, grabbing my hand and spinning me around.

“Thanks baby” I said hugging him

We were at the party for a good two hours at this point. I had drank two drinks, and was feeling so confident, and decided I wanted to dance. Initially I was looking for Matt, but when I saw him he was shooting darts into my eyes with his arms crossed over his chest, and his jaw clenched. I just rolled my eyes, and looked for someone else

I had grabbed any random influencer I saw, and asked if they wanted to dance. Of course they did a random girl wanting to grind on them? How could they say no

As we got to the dancing area Thong Song started playing

Immediately I started jumping in excitement

“This is my fucking songggg” I screamed and pushed us to the center of the “dance floor”

At first I was dancing alone, running my hands all over myself swaying my hips while I sang the song. A circle had opened up surrounding me dancing. I grabbed Madi and we started dancing on each other, and then I grabbed

Chris and Nick also dancing with them in a friendly way.

“LARRAY COME DANCE” I said reaching for his hands. He immediately jumped into the circle and started dancing with me while everyone cheered us on. That’s when I saw the guy I initially brought to the dance floor

“Come on hottie let’s dance” I said grabbing him. I turned around so my back was against his chest, and started to grind on him wrapping my hands around his neck as our hips swayed together

“Bitchhhhhh FUCK IT UPPPP” LARRAY screamed clapping his hands together

“SHAKE THAT ASSSSSS” Nick yelled at me

This whole time Matt was in the corner watching Y/N intensely with a straight face. Fuming that she had the audacity to even grind up against someone who she didn’t know. When his hands started running down her waist, she threw her head back laughing. Matt got so pissed he pushed himself off the couch, and started to stomp over to them. Just as he reached them the song ended, and it got quiet

“Let’s fucking go” Matt said to Y/N going to grab her arm

“Fuck no” she said pulling away

“I didn’t ask! WE ARE LEAVING NOW” he said yelling the last part and yanking her away from the boy

Everyone in the crowd is watching with a shocked face

“BYEEEE, and cute boy find me I wanna take you out” Y/N said looking back at him, and to this Matt yanked her harshly to walk in front of him

Matt brought the girl to the car opening the passenger side door for her, and throwing her in

After he got back in the car and turned it on he turned the car on, and put it into drive quickly taking off

“Aww what a gentleman opening the passenger side for me” Y/N said giggling at him

“Shut the fuck up” Matt said clenching his jaw not even looking over at the girl

“What crawled up your ass” Y/N said

“You grinding on another guy” he said bluntly

“Not like we’re a couple” she said rolling her eyes

“Doesn’t matter” he said looking over at her

“Oh but it does. YOU ARE NOT MY MAN I CAN GRIND ON WHOEVER I WANT” I said lightly

“Watch your fucking tone” he said scoffing

“Or what? You gonna hit me” She said looking at him

“Want me to?” Matt asked as they pulled up to a red light

She started to lean in like she was going to kiss him on the cheek, but instead said “go fuck yourself” she said leaning back away.

Matt looked over at her, and smacked her across the face. Harshly but not enough to actually hurt her. It was more of a sexual smack

“Don’t fucking smack me” Y/N said and smacked the boy back in the face. He grabbed her hand and yanked her in closely

“Put your hands on me again, and I’ll fucking make you regret it” he said pushing her away as the light turned green

“Don’t touch me” she said back to him, and he grabbed her hand once again and brought it down to his bulge

“Do you see what you do to me, you make me so fucking hard” he said sighing as her hand came into contact with his dick

“Oh do I?” She said palming his dick, and he slightly threw his head back

“Fuck you’re gonna make me crash” he said

“So pay attention to the road, and let me take care of you” she said taking his dick out of his pants

She spat on the tip, and slowly started to jerk him up and down

“Shit that feels so good” he said gripping the steering wheel with his left hand

She slowly took his dick into her mouth. Swirling her tongue over his tip, and deep throating him. As her head was bobbing up and down Matt grabbed her hair moaning and thrusting his hips up. Y/N gagged at this

“Sorry baby I can’t help myself” Mat said moaning, and to this she moaned on his dick

“Fuck this I need you now” he said, and slowly pulled over to a secluded empty parking lot

After he threw the car in park Y/N took her heels off and jumped to the back seat, and Matt followed.

Immediately crashing his lips to her in a heated sloppy make out session. He pulled her dress down a little bit allowing her breasts to fall out. He started sucking and groping her breasts. As her back was digging into the handle

“Fuck Matt don’t stop” she said throwing her head back a little bit

“Look at you in this slutty dress with such easy access” He said squeezing her thigh

“Matt please I need more of you” she said pushing his head back. He backed up giving her a once over before nodding his head.

He went down to her thigh and grabbed the leg garter with his teeth pulling it down and off her leg, and putting it on the arm rest

“Open your mouth” he said lightly smacking her face, her mouth opened and he shoved her middle and finger finger in her mouth

“Get them nice and wet for me” he said watching her through half lidded eyes

Y/N swirled her tongue around his fingers, and he pulled them out. Pushing her panties to the side he rubbed her clit, and slowly slid both of his fingers in

“Oh my god” she said grabbing his arm

“You hear how this pussy sounds for me” he said slamming her fingers into her, all you could hear were the most obscene sounds coming from her pussy

“Matt I’m gonna cum if you keep speaking like that” the girl said as her eyes rolled to the back of her head

“You’re not cumming on my fingers” he said, and pulled his finger out her and smacked her pussy

She jumped at this and whined. Matt slid his pants down just enough for his cock to spring out. He pumped his cock a few times before spitting on Y/N pussy

“You’re getting fucked like a slut” he said as he slid his cock up and down on her pussy

“Please Matt I need it” she said moaning and breathing heavily

He slid into her pussy completely bottoming out. They both sighed at this feeling

“This pussy is mine” he said as he harshly grabbed her breast

Matt was relentlessly pounding into the young girl. Her back banging into the door handle, and her head slightly hitting the window

“Matt please harder” she said pulling his hair

“Shut the fuck up” he said as his hips snapped in an even fast faster

All that could be heard was skin slapping, moans and the banging of Y/N’s head on the window

He started to rub her clit as he pounded even harder into her

“FUCK MATT OH MY GOD” she yelled grabbing onto his hair for support

“Shut the FUCK up” he said looking into her eyes

“I can’t Matt you feel too good” she said moaning

He repositioned her hips, and started slamming into her at an ungodly pace

“MATT MATT MATT” she started screaming

“I said SHUT THE FUCK UP” he grunts out loudly as he smacks her across the face

“Fuck Matt” she said whining

He was getting close so his thrusts started to become deep and hard. Slamming into her with no mercy. He hit her G spot really hard, and Y/N was sure she died

“FUCK MATTTTTT” she screamed

“You don’t learn do you” he said as he grabbed her leg garter and shoved it in her mouth to keep her quiet

Matt continued to pound into her, and when she started to shake he knew she was about to cum

“Come on baby cum for me” he said furiously rubbing her clit. It didn’t take much more of that. She came on his cock moaning and weeping with tears falling down her face as her thighs started to shake

“Matt cum in me” she said coming down from her high as she removed the leg garter from her mouth

Immediately after that Matt came inside her with his brows furrowed and his mouth hung open. Pumping her full of his cum. After he came down from his high he pulled out and she slid her panties back on and pulled her dress up

“Fuck that was so hot” she said fixing herself up

“You’re mine” Matt said as he finished readjusting himself

She looked over at him confused

“Whatever it is you want! I’m yours I’ll be your man, your husband, your boy toy whatever you want I’m yours” he said looking at her in a fucked our expression

“Damn you’re so pussy drunk” she said laughing at him

“Don’t push it” he said with a straight face

“I can be your girlfriend I suppose” She said shrugging her shoulders

“Don’t play with me” Matt said looking at her

“I’m kidding. Yes Matt I’d love to finally be your girlfriend” she said kissing him on the cheek

“Good because I’m never letting you go” he said kissing her on the lips

“Alright let’s head home” Matt said as he helped Y/N back to the passenger seat

“Yeah my back is fucking hurting after being slammed into the handle non stop” she said laughing

“Im sorry baby” Matt said laughing with her

“It’s okay you were fucking me so good the pain went away” she said winking at him

He just looked down shyly and then drove back to the house.

The End

This was so fun to write🤪🤪 Now I’ll be working on my request I got, so expect to see that shortly🫶🏽

-J💅🏽

[mikachacha]

𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚣𝚎 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

Synopsis: Bada just couldn't resist after seeing you dance and makes you scream out her name in all the ways she knows how

Warnings: smut. shameless smut. little to no plot. Nsfw so mdni. Please im begging u

(A/N: soooo we're back with these things and we're gonna start 2024 right. Also this is based on the request I got from last year. This is the filthiest story i've ever done 🫠🫠)

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Fantasize

╚══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╝

💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧💧

"Oh hey baby! Perfect that you're home right now because.. There's something I wanna do with you." Bada could feel her cheeks heat up as she just came home and the moment she stepped inside the kitchen, she saw you sitting on the counter, dressed in one of those oversized coats with just lingerie underneath and those sexy, sparkly boots that she bought for you on Christmas.

"Oh yeah? And what's that something my pretty baby wants to do?" Bada asks, smirking as you get off the counter and walk towards her. She placed her arm around your waist and pulled you closer to her, an action that made you chuckle and place a soft kiss on her lips.

"Oh you'll find out soon enough, darling. How about you head to the bedroom now and get comfy as you will witness a show fitting for a new year." you told her and Bada could feel her heart racing with excitement at the mention of 'show' since she knows it could mean only one thing.

She headed straight to your shared bedroom and sat on the bed after changing into fresher clothes. She almost jumped when the lights in the room were briefly turned off but then a dim, purple light emitted from the string lights the both of you had installed months prior after moving in together.

"Oh? So you are planning something grand.. I should have expected this." Bada chuckles as you finally showed up. You motioned for her to sit on the chair that you placed in the bedroom earlier and she sat there without complaint. You gave her a cute little smile before setting up your phone to the speaker so you can give Bada this new year gift that you specially crafted for her.

The song began playing and you began giving Bada a lap dance and some strip tease but you made sure that you don't spoil her too much before you could even reach the best part. You could see the excitement and lust in your girlfriend's eyes and you're pretty sure about what's gonna happen once you're done and you've pretty much said, 'fuck it' because you know too well it's gonna be worth it.

When the chorus came, Bada was pretty sure that she just passed away and went to heaven as you stripped all your remaining clothes while dancing on her lap. It was hypnotizing, the way your body moved to the music, the way you were singing along to it, it just awakened something feral deep inside her that she didn't even let you finish the whole routine when she just grabbed you by your hair and kissed you on the lips. It was hot, messy and just full of lust. She didn't pull away until you were both breathless.

"Now you've done it, pretty girl.. Naughty girls like you should be fucked hard and good until those lips could only scream out my name as I make you cum over and over again.." Bada whispered to your ear and just those words sent shivers down your spine and dampness between your legs.

Bada didn't even give you a chance to think of a witty remark as she unceremoniously carried you to the bed and tossed you like you're a stuffed toy. You shoot her a glare and she just smirks as she gets on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head as she claims your lips once more. When she feels that your lips have received enough attention, her kisses begin moving south to your jaw and neck where she placed not so few marks on the otherwise flawless skin.

You were moaning and writhing beneath her at that point. You just want to feel her lips all over your body and her fingers moving in and out of you, preparing you for the good fucking you know you're gonna get. Sensing your impatience, Bada let go of your wrists and held out two fingers in front of you. You could feel your cheeks burning still even though you've done this multiple times already. You shyly took those fingers in your mouth and began to suckle on them, making sure to get them wet enough for what's about to come even though you're pretty sure it wasn't that necessary from how wet you already are.

While Bada got you busy with her fingers, her mouth was busy toying and teasing your nipples, loving how you'd moan against her fingers or try to close your legs but couldn't since she was situated in between. The way your eyes would shut tightly as your back slightly arched whenever her tongue would lick those sensitive buds. She loves seeing you in such a state knowing that she's the reason behind it.

She pulls her fingers out of your mouth and lightly grazes it against your heated skin, going south until it finally reaches between your legs. You felt yourself shiver and you could swear that you blacked out for a second as she worked her fingers inside you while her thumb rubbed circles against your clit. It felt like heaven and hell at the same time.

"Bada, please.." you gasped out and she looked at you, grinning like the devil as her name rolled off your lips with such desperation as you were nearing that sweet, sweet release. Without saying a word, Bada adjusted herself until her head was in level with your crotch. She temporarily pulled her fingers out of you that got you whining so she can place your legs on her shoulders and without a warning, Bada ate you out like she has been starved for weeks and your pussy is her first meal.

Loud moans and whines escape your lips, you couldn't think straight. Your knuckles are turning white from how hard you're just gripping the sheets beneath you. You don't know if you want to push Bada's head away or lock her head between your legs as she continues to have her way. It all soon became too much, your body trembling as you felt waves of pleasure through your veins as your orgasm finally hit. Bada lets you come down from your high before pulling away and sitting up, licking her lips with a smug smirk on her lips.

"Thanks for the meal, baby." she teases and you just shoot her a look as you sit up as well. It was your turn to please her to which you did. You help her undress and worship her, placing kisses on the spots that get her hot and bothered then proceed to eat her out like her pussy's the most scrumptious meal you have ever received in your whole life.

Bada could only moan and grip your hair as she was getting close. It was such a turn on seeing you between her legs with those sparkly boots still on and eating her out like a feast. She could already think of how much she's gonna fuck you until the only thing that comes out of your mouth is her name and loud moans from the pleasure she's gonna give to you.

It didn't take long for Bada to cum and she immediately tells you to lie down on your back as she retrieves the strap on from the drawer and some lube as well. You obediently did what you were told and waited for her to finish your preparations, anticipation already building as you're now entering the main event.

"I'm gonna go slow, yeah? Just tell me when you want me to go faster.." Bada says and you nodded your head, holding on to her free hand while the other was guiding the strap on to your hole. You flinched a bit from how cold the lube felt on initial contact but Bada's thumb has found your clit again, rubbing circles and distracting you that you didn't even notice that she was already fully inside.

True to her words, Bada went slow and steady for you to get used to the feeling. She'd give you kisses, whisper sweet nothing to your ear until you finally told her to go faster and harder to which she complied.

"Fuck! Right there.. Oh shit.. Yes, right there Bada please!" you moaned out loudly as she kept hitting your spot. Bada grabbed one of your legs and put it over her shoulder and began to pound you so hard that you could swear you can see stars and angels, among other things behind your eyes from how good it felt. You were babbling, you were begging, your brain couldn't form any coherent thought except for that hot white pleasure seeping into every fiber of your being. You could feel your orgasm closing in until you couldn't hold it in any longer, her name escaping your lips along with moans as your orgasm crashed into you.

"Feel good, baby?" Bada asks as you calmed down a little and you could only nod. You're breathless and you feel like you're floating in cloud nine as you came twice already.

"Yeah.. Feels so good.." you replied and she places a kiss on your forehead before pulling out. You thought she was done but you were dead wrong. Bada flipped you on your stomach, holding you up by the waist as she entered you once more from behind. Your eyes rolled back as she began fucking you from behind. It felt so good that you don't know what to do other than just grip the sheets and moan out your girlfriend's name. It was wild, it was hot and definitely the best fuck you've ever had with her pulling your hair and sometimes smacking your buttocks as she rails you hard from behind.

You don't know how much time has passed or how many times you came that night. It all felt like a blur that when Bada was finally done with you, you only drank some water and fell asleep immediately with a tired yet satisfied smile on your lips. Bada couldn't help but smile as well as she cleans you up and dresses you in comfortable clothes before finally tucking you in with a kiss on you head.

"I love you, Y/N. So much.." she whispers as she soon falls into a deep slumber, holding you in her arms.

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

Part 2 to that fantasies fic please 😭🙏

I've been trying to finish this FOREVER.

What's Your Fantasy? - Part 2

This contains SMUT- Minors DNI

Part 1

Summary: After getting Ethan to tell you the things he thinks about when he's alone, you were dying to hear more.

Contains: Smut - switch!ethan, switch!reader, p in v, oral(fem recieving), creampie, rough-ish sex, unprotected sex, and it has a fluffy moment or two:) If i missed anything, please let me know so I can include it.

A/N: Not too sure how I feel about this 🫠But I've had so many requests for it and I've been dying to write a dom!ethan moment.

When you made it back to Ethan’s room after your shower, he was desperate to fuck you. The interaction in the shower had you craving more, wanting nothing more than to please him. You weren’t giving in that easy, pushing him back on the bed and straddling him. You leaned down to kiss him, your pussy resting against his hardening cock. You wanted to tease him to see what else you could get out of him.

As you grinded against him, your lips started to trail down his neck.

“Fuck,” he groaned out, the wetness between your legs making it easy to glide across his erection.

You didn’t say anything as your lips moved, sucking on the spots that were making him whimper. His hands went to your hips to help you move against him when you pulled away.

“No, baby, I need you to use your words and tell me what you want,” you said, your tone loaded with lust as his hooded eyes met yours.

His hands went to your sides as you started to kiss his neck again, “You better start talking, or your entire neck is going to be purple by the time I’m done with you.” Your mouth latched onto the flesh above his collar bone as he started to whine.

“I want you to ride me,” he finally got out, as you shook your head and laughed.

“That’s not good enough baby.”

He started to think back to the teasing in the shower, and how you were trying to get him to say the things he wanted to try, the things he thought about when he was trying to get off. It was hard for him to process his thoughts as your hips started to grind harder against him.

You sat up straight, looking down at his erection as your pussy rubbed against him, your arousal glistening under the sunlight that was pouring through the window. It was getting hard for you to hold back, the throbbing feeling in your clit making you desperate for some relief.

“Aww, the head of your cock is so red,” you cooed, “It’d be a shame if I just stopped and didn’t fuck you.”

“No!” he tried to yell but it came out as a whimper. “Fuck, I think about coming home and you’re waiting by the front door in the skimpiest lingerie.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” you muttered, “What happens next?”

“I get you out of your bra and suck all over your tits,” he babbled, as your hands rubbed across his chest, “Then I kiss down your stomach, sliding your panties down. Then you push me back on the bed and ride my face. You just fucking use me to get off.”

“You want me to use you, baby?” you questioned as he nodded.

“I think about you pulling my hair when you’re about to cum. I think about how amazing you taste,” he said, his breathing heavy as your pussy kept rubbing against him, the friction against your clit giving you some of the relief you needed. “Then…” he trailed off, getting a little shy.

“Then what?” you asked, desperate to hear what he had to say as your wetness was dripping down the rest of his cock that wasn’t getting attention.

“Then you let me take control. I have your arms pinned above your head, as my cock slowly slides in and out of you, until I’m pounding into you pussy so hard that my neighbors are going to know how good I fuck you,” He rushed out, as you noticed all the precum leaking out of his cherry-red tip. You swiped your finger through it, the action making his hips jolt. You sucked it off your finger as he watched you, feeling like he could cum from the sight alone. “Fuck…then you let me cum in your perfect pussy that squeezes me so tight when you cum.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” you asked, as he started to whine again.

“I love it when you talk to me like that.”

“Do you want me to be mean to you?” you asked, a small laugh slipping out as you looked at him.

“Yeah, but then I want you to let me put you in your place, too. Respectfully, of course.”

You started to giggle at his words before your lusty eyes connected with his.

“Put me in my place, then.”

Within seconds, he flipped you over so your naked body was laying against the soft comforter. He kissed you with so much intensity, as he brushed over your pussy with his fingertips. He kept repeating his actions, teasing you as badly as you did to him.

“Please, baby,” you whined, “I need you.”

“I don’t think you deserve it. You’ve been so bad,” he said, his lips moving to his neck and sucking love bites onto you.

“But don’t you want to cum in me?” you asked, your tone desperate as you tried to convince him.

“I’m in control, remember?”

The cockiness in his voice had your pussy aching, craving attention as his fingers wouldn’t stop teasing you. He intentionally avoided your clit. You whimpered every time he got close to it, but then his fingers just ghosted around it.

After a few minutes, he decided he tortured you enough as his fingers rubbed slow circles against your bundle of nerves. You couldn’t suppress your moans as he started to move his mouth down your body. He sucked one of your nipples into your mouth, before sucking on the skin surrounding it.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, before he moved to the other side and repeated the action. He couldn’t get enough of the sounds coming out of your mouth, but he wanted them to be louder.

His lips moved lower, his teeth grazing against your sides as your chest heaved. You got more wet by the second, feeling it reach your upper thighs.

When he finally made it in between your legs, his hands gripped your thighs as he pushed them apart. The new dominating side of Ethan was something you could get used to, his eyes looking into yours as he started to lap at your clit. A low moan slipped out, a new sound he’d never heard before. The anticipation that was built up between the two of you had you both desperate for your release. The throbbing in his cock was painful, but he had to show you that he should be in control sometimes.

“That feels so good,” you whined out, as he slid two fingers inside of you.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he said, pulling his mouth away and moving his fingers against that spot inside of you that made your toes curl. Your hand went to his hair, trying to pull his mouth back towards you. “I don’t think so,” he said, his words making you pout. “I told you, you’ve been bad. You threatened to not let me cum, why should I let you?”

“Please, I need it so fucking bad,” you begged, as his fingers started to slow. “Ethan, please!”

“The only way you’re going to cum is if my cock is inside you,” he said, his voice dark as he grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head.

His mouth was inches from yours, his eyes softening a little as he looked at you.

“If this is too much, I need you to tell me, okay? Just because it’s a fantasy of mine doesn’t mean I’m okay with hurting you,” he said, leaning down to kiss you.

When he pulled away, he looked at you to give him the okay to keep going.

“Please fuck me,” you whined, the darkness returning to his eyes as he repositioned your arms so he could hold both of your wrists down with one hand, as his other lined his cock up with your entrance.

He slid in slowly, watching your face as his length stretched you out.

“Mmm,” you mewled, the full feeling being exactly what you needed.

His hips started to move as he leaned down to kiss you again. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, your mouth opening so he could deepen the kiss. He took it slow at first, just enjoying the feeling of you around him.

He soon started to thrust faster, making you moan against his tongue as he kept kissing you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, making it easier for him to go deeper and hit that spongy spot inside you that made your vision get fuzzy.

He pulled away from the kiss, looking at your face again. The intensity of the kiss had your lips swollen, and your eyes were glazed over in desire as he started to pound into you.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you moaned, his free hand going to your clit as he supported his weight with the hand that had your wrists pinned above your head.

You started to get louder, the grip that your legs had around his waist getting tighter. “Your pussy feels so amazing,” he groaned, “and you’re taking my cock so fucking well. You always do.”

“Mhm,” you whimpered, “I’m getting close.”

He kept his pace with his hips and his finger movements against your clit, not wanting to change anything he was doing. He needed you to cum so he could, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin your orgasm.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned, the loudness of it echoing off the walls, “I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop.”

He didn’t, the feeling of your pussy tightening around him was something he was craving. As soon as your orgasm started to wash over you, he leaned down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, giving you the extra stimulation as your body started to tremble underneath him. He started to cum the second your walls started to clench his cock, the fluttering milking every last drop from him.

His removed his hand from your clit so he could support his weight with it. He started to worry about bruising on your wrists as his grip on them relaxed. He stayed inside you for a few minutes as he placed gentle kisses along your wrists, noticing that they were red.

Your blissful expression from the intense orgasm made him smile. He was happy you wanted to try things that he wanted, even if it was a little different from the usual bedroom dynamic.

“Are you okay, babe?” he asked sweetly, as he started to pull out. Your legs that were loosely wrapped around him moved to rest on the bed. “Oh fuck.”

He saw his cum start to drip out of your pussy, the sight making him groan. He looked up to your face, noticing that you started to doze off.

“Baby,” he said, running his hands along your thighs. You opened your eyes a little to look at him. “Let’s go take another quick shower and we can cuddle and do whatever you want the rest of the day.”

You nodded as you tried to get up, your legs wobbling the second your feet hit the floor. Ethan’s arm wrapped around you, supporting your weight as he led you to the bathroom.

Once you made it there, he glanced at the mirror and did a double take as he noticed all the faint purple marks along his neck.

“Jeez, you did a number on my neck,” he laughed as you smiled, still tired.

“How about later tonight I teach you the wonders of concealer?” you joked as he rolled his eyes.

“You might have to.”

[chrollohearttags]

Okay Cherry if this is any good indulge me by going wild with this prompt loosely based on my life at work. If it's not good then this never happened lmaooo!

Picture this, Eren works as a salesmen for whatever company you want and one of his charges has a sweet secretary type who always starts off the phone call real formal but then slips into this cheery, almost flirty tone as she rattles on about her bad knee or the latest video game or her yarn order out for delivery last she checked 20 minutes ago (a lil self-indulgent, i know).

He always indulges her and even shares some insights on his life too so now they have each other's sun signs, favorite color, and worst month before she passes the call over to her boss to make the weekly orders.

But one week he's in her city, kinda like a "stop in and say hi to your clients/rep the company" type of deal and he finally sets eyes on the sweetheart who always has a comeback for whatever silliness she gets him to say and dammit if this man didn't almost fallover when he sets eyes on that pretty face. And fuck him side ways when he catches her retreating to the back room. He'll obviously be around the next day around closing time to hopefully take the little lady out (and give her the deepest backshots) before he has to fly home next week.

AHFHDHRJDGSHS babes your mind!!!! >>>>>> this is so genius!!! 🫠🫠🫠 I hope I can do it justice tbh because this has my wheels turning! And thank you for all the beautiful asks you sent me, I’m so sorry it’s taken this long for me to get around to them. But I promise I will be answering them all VERY soon!! 🥹🫶🏾

Eren always strived to be the best at what he done. Whether it was athletics or academics, he always excelled above his peers in every area. The same applied once he was hired as a salesman for the Mercedes Benz dealership in his city. It didn’t take long for the young associate to find success in his career field. From his devilish good looks to his suave charm…possessing the gift of gab that could sell flames to the devil. It didn’t take long before he was the highest earning employee in not the district but soon the region. In a year’s time, he had worked his way up to regional manager and oversaw the entire store.

it came with big responsibilities but even bigger perks. He got to travel to all these places on the company’s dime. Stay in lavish hotels, work poolside and even party all at their expense. But it was to be expected of a young, handsome bachelor like himself. Even so, he was as cautious as he was reliable. He worked hard to maintain his standing but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t long for the companionship of another person as well. Luckily for him, he found it in the form of someone he’d least expect. While sifting through a new client list for potential tools and parts for the auto repair team, he came across one that he had never seen before but soon, he’d become even more acquainted with them..or rather, the person who was always on the other end. Yes, the sweet, cheery voice of the babe who answered every phone call. The one who always addressed him as ‘sir’ or Mr. Jaeger and would relay his messages with efficiency along with a ‘my pleasure’ in the most angelic voice he’d ever heard. One that sent flutters all throughout his body each time he heard it. Eventually, he had to know the name of the little lady who had him grinning from ear to ear as he sat with his feet propped up on his office desk. “And to who do I have the pleasure of speaking to, miss? I’d love to put a name to that beautiful voice.” Naturally, she divulges him and reveals her identity. “The name’s (y/n) (l/n). Of course, sweetheart and love suits me just fine.” As he had spoiled you with the sweet pet names. That you’d return with a quickness and send him into a blushing fit. Very unbecoming of the normally collected and stoic man. Eventually, he’d keep the conversations going on a bit longer than anticipated or allowed just to hear more from the once anonymous woman; finding solace, comfort and routine in hearing about work and personal affairs. Chatting it up with you long after the business side of things had been conducted.

time went on and the two of you had grown quite fond and accustomed to the regular phone calls that ensued almost three times a week at this point. Laughing and joking like old friends whom had known each other forever. “I swear, I call at least three times a week and you always answer. Do they ever give you a break?” “Poor things, they’d fall apart without me. Besides, it’s not all bad. I get talk to you so I’d say I’m pretty lucky.” Of course, he loved the flattery. You would find anything to speak on just to keep the conversation going. From your newest crochet project, to his recent acquisition of those new sneakers he’d had his heart and sights set on for a while. Everything from favorite foods, TV shows and colors were revealed in the calls. The funniest perhaps, may have been the topic of astrology and zodiac signs and he had not the slightest clue about that but by the next chat, he told you his sun, rising and moon and you couldn’t help but to chuckle at the fact that he could rattle it off so easily now. “What? A man can’t get curious? It’s interesting stuff.” “Absolutely. I just think it’s so cute. Maybe we can talk about it in person one day over some coffee.”

he holds you to that offer..about a week or so after that conversation when he pays a visit to your workplace as part of a client check in. Essentially shaking hands to maintain good relations with the vendors. But it wasn’t until he went up to the reception desk that he’d get the shock of a lifetime to learn that the pretty lady sitting before him was the one behind the beautiful voice that he chopped it up with almost daily. Big, bouffant curls, round glasses on that gorgeous face with a divine complexion and the most innocuous of eyes. His heart thudded and his face visibly flushed red when you told him your name and extended a hand to properly introduce yourself. It doesn’t take long for him to return it and with a kiss to boot. “I’m happy to finally put a face to that adorable voice.” Smirking as he proceeds to turn and address your other coworkers, who were mechanics and techs, but it’s when you get up to head to the back room; inviting him along under the guise that you had some paperwork for him to complete. And he follows with bells on!..

once you two are alone, all bets are off along with every article of clothing on your bodies. Propping you up on a countertop and grasping the backs of your thick thighs because they looked too good swaying in that tight skirt. Only after a very intense makeout session. Shoving your tongues into each other’s mouths as if you were long distance lovers and not perfect strangers. Even so, it didn’t let up there…peeling your top off and groping those beautiful tits that fit so perfectly in his palms. Taking those sweet little brown nipples into his mouth and suckling as you rode his fingers that he shoved knuckle deep into those thin lace panties. “Mr. Jaeger…” crying out so sweetly that it made his cock twitch in those slacks. Hastily pulling it out as he smirked against your lips. “Please, call me Eren, baby. We’re past the formalities, aren’t we?” And that much was apparent by the way he propped your leg on his shoulder and looked into your eyes as he finally slid inside of you and began thrusting up into you. Feeding you deep, long strokes without so much as a second of breaking eye contact. Your head fell back for a second and he secured it with a hand to the back of your neck. Moaning and whimpering but trying to remain quiet because you’d be fired on the spot if caught. “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Look at me while I fuck you..” spoken like a man who knew exactly how to handle a girl like you. Giving you the best dick you’ve had in ages and possibly ever!.. “you’re so tight..fuck.” Grunting as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Leaving soft kisses along the curvature of it. You’d claw your freshly done nails into the flesh of his exposed shoulder blades; right over those tattoos he got done when he was younger. Begging him not to stop as he pounds your pussy relentlessly.

“Right there! Oh shit..” only retracting long enough to spin you around and hit you from behind. Leaving smacks on that big, plump ass that rippled with each stroke. How simple, innocent conversations about knitting and TV shows had turned into this juicy little love affair so quickly…you guys would never know. It could be attributed to the subtle flirtation or the bubbling sexual tension that could no longer be ignored by either party. Regardless, the two of you were knee (or balls) deep rather into this illustrious rendezvous. From the counter top to the coffee table where he fed you collapsed backshots. The whole thing went on until you both reached your peaks. “C’mere, baby. On your knees” ushering you to your feet so that he could paint that pretty face and tongue with his nut. To which he’d kiss you afterwards..

needless to say, he was quite smitten with you after that day. Even having flowers delivered to your desk before you arrived for your shift. Rather than communicating via company lines, you exchanged phone numbers and started texting. Where he phoned you up and invited you out to a nice dinner. Underneath candlelight at the finest Italian restaurant in town. He was a complete and total gentleman, who made that week one of the most memorable you’ve ever had.

something told you it wouldn’t be the last you’d see of the smooth talking salesman

[greg-montgomery]

hi fay! okay so my demented brain thought of dbf!hotch 😭 what if him and reader just stopped seeing each other (he was the one who ended things because he was too old for her or some dumb reason like that lol) & she leaves to go on a date while aaron is at her house hanging out with her dad 🫣🫣🫣 he pretends to be indifferent, but on the inside he gets so damn jealous thinking about her seeing someone else 😩 especially when she looked so pretty in her outfit </3

hiii bestie <333 dbf!hotch is my weakness 😫🫠

this isn't smut but it's still nsfw so minors please don't interact!

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Has anyone seen my lipgloss?” you called from upstairs.

“I can see one here on the table, honey,” your dad answered, taking the glittery tube into his hand. “Is it pink?”

“Yes!” you said, and Aaron could hear you running down the stairs to get it.

Your dad leaned in to whisper in his ear, “She has a date.”

Date. The word felt like a knife to his stomach. Had you moved on this quickly? You were getting ready to meet with another man while Aaron hadn’t slept in days, regretting the decision of your breakup.

Maybe he deserved it; he was the idiot who had let you go after all.

“Hotch,” you said, surprised. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

Being addressed as ‘Hotch’ by you felt foreign to him. It was a big change after being called ‘Aaron’, ‘baby’ and ‘my love’.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” he said, trying to cover up the fact that was completely breathless. Saying that you looked like an angel would be an understatement, seeing you in that pretty dress.

It looked suspiciously similar to the dress you had worn the first time the two of you had slept together. Aaron could recall every detail of that night, your dress included. He remembered the way his hands had traveled under it, finding your panties absolutely soaked; the way you kept shivering when he’d run his tongue over the hickeys on your neck; the way you had moaned his name for the first time when his thumb had finally touched your aching clit.

As you walked closer to get your lipgloss, Aaron stared into your eyes, trying to figure out if the girl he had fallen in love with was still there.

Your dad handed you your lipgloss and you lost no time before putting on some. No other man was supposed to find out how that liplgoss tasted. No one but Aaron was supposed to know it tasted like fresh, sweet strawberries.  

“I should go,” you announced, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I don’t wanna be late.”

Aaron curled his hand into a fist, running his thumb over his knuckles, in an attempt to calm himself down. Everything inside him was screaming at him to get up, grab your arm and steal you away, but he knew he had no business getting involved into your life anymore. You were his best friend’s daughter. You going on a date should have meant nothing to him.

“Is he here already?” your dad wondered.

“Oh he’s not picking me up,” you said, a little embarrassed. “I’ll take the bus.”

That fucker had the chance of going out with a gorgeous girl like you and he didn’t even bother picking you up from your house?

“I’ll drive you,” Aaron offered, before even thinking about it.

“Hotch, you don’t need to-”

“It’s no trouble,” he said. “I was leaving anyway.”

As he got up, your dad covered his hand with his own and spoke softly enough not to be heard by you. “Thank you. I’ll be much calmer knowing you’ll be looking after her on her way there.”

Aaron felt guilty at your dad’s words, thinking of all the things he had done to his precious daughter in that same car he was about to drive you with.

“Of course.”

--

One thing Aaron could always count on you to be was a fucking brat. He could tell by the way you were walking towards his car, or by that cute little pout he was dying to kiss.

“Get in,” he said, sternly, as he opened the door for you, leaving you no room for attitude.

“I am getting in, no need to yell.”

There she is, he thought, fighting back a smile.

Aaron could feel you practically vibrating on your seat. Yes, he was a profiler but he was also a man in love, which meant he knew you like the back of his hand. You were expecting him to make a scene. And even though his jealousy was eating him inside out, he would not reveal himself.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

You told him the name of the restaurant and he started the car.

“Mmm…” he said, smirking. “Nice place, romantic.”

“Very romantic,” you added. “Paul picked it.”

Paul.

Aaron was gonna kill Paul with his bare hands.

“He must have good taste then. You’ll get along great.”

He could see the hurt in your eyes, as you turned to look at him. “You think?”

“Yeah,” he simply said.

Thankfully the silence during the rest of the ride didn’t turn awkward, since the road to your destination wasn’t long.

“We’re here.”

“We’re here,” you repeated, stalling getting out of the car.

“Well…” Aaron said. “Have fun. And stay safe.”

“Thank you.”

The logical next step was you getting out of the car, but that didn’t happen. Instead the two of you stayed inside the car in silence.

You took a look at him with the corner of your eye. “I’m going.” Your tone was borderline threatening.

“Okay.”

Your hand touched the door handle so you could exit the car, but last minute you turned to face him.

“You stubborn old man, I can tell you’re jealous! Why don’t you just admit it?” You slapped his arm softly enough so it wouldn’t hurt.

“Jealous?” he scoffed. “I drove you to your date, sweetheart.”

“Oh please! I can hear you fuming.”

“I’m doing just fine.”

“Just admit it!”

“Y/N.”

“Come on, I caught you staring-”

Aaron grabbed your face with one of his hands, squeezing your cheeks together to make you stop talking. “Shut up,” he said. And you did.

Not that you had any other choice anyway; his mouth on yours, stealing away any other word you had prepared to throw at him.  

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. “I’m gonna burn him alive, before he has the chance to even look at you in this dress. Is that enough for you?”

“More than enough.” You smirked and let your lips fall on his once more.

[outro-jo]

skz and their black cat partner

pairing: skz members x (gn) reader

type: headcanon?

warnings: none really

request: yes?

notes: i got an interesting request and i wasn’t sure how to go about it until i saw this svt reaction and so i went more this route

how i personally define a black cat personality: dark energy/vibe usually accompanied by a dark aesthetic but doesn’t always have to. not super fond of affection or prefers affection on their own terms. sassy with good quips and comebacks. has an interest in “darker” topics such as horror, the occult, “dark” psychology, etc. chronically unbothered. FIERCELY protective once you gain their love/loyalty. occasionally unhinged and feral (gets the zoomies whether physical or mental/verbal). big scorpio energy tbh

not taking requests at this time/clearing out inbox

masterlist | info

————————————

chan- think of how he is with lee know and seungmin sometimes. yeah. like when you’re sitting there like 😐😒, he’s squishing you and sticking his face in yours affectionately. you’re his baby. there are times when he respects your space but for the most part he’s all over you. most of the time he’s the protector but there have been a few times he’s seen your protective side and the pride he feels???? omg

lee know- omg he loves it sm. he already has the sunshine to his grumpy with some of the other boys. so you’re just like him. his fav thing though is when you get a burst of energy (zoomies) usually at the end of the day and you’re just goofing off with him. he LOVES to tease you. not rly the way chan does where it’s all cutesy but he just kinda pokes at you… physically and metaphorically. he just loves having someone he can chill with and really be himself.

changbin- so he likes to play that he’s this dark boy but he’s really a softie. he gets kinda nervous sometimes when you’re too quiet that he’s done something wrong but you do this thing where when you’re sitting together you take his hand and put it where you want affection at that moment. like you’ll just hold his hand or put his hand on your head and he just :> “oh so you do like me???”

hyunjin- he’s finally found someone as sassy as him. the funniest thing (for others really) is when something happens and you both kinda share the same look of confusion and disgust (judgement). everything is just really calm and lowkey with you, which he loves but then when you’re both alone you kinda bounce off the walls together.

han- beast boy x raven (gn) vibes. like he is an absolute SIMP for you. he thrives with a darker, kinda emo or goth partner. even if that’s not rly your aesthetic, he just likes having a partner that’s more lowkey to balance him out but whenever you do get your bursts of energy he always matches it and it’s kinda magical. you’re the one usually teasing him and it’s funny bc it’ll either fluster the hell out of him or like he didn’t even catch it. you 1000% become like a security blanket in human form for him.

felix- grumpy x sunshine. now, he’s not the type to poke fun at you or anything or tease you when you’re in your more quiet, grumpy moments. he just kinda sits there like the sunshine he is and loves you through it. damn, is he cute. he has you melting instantly but you obviously can’t show that. he loves to cuddle you even when you’re stiff as a board, unsure what to do with affection. felix also does this super 🫠🫠🫠 thing where he randomly tells you you’re pretty (✨gn✨) AND ITS ALWAYS WITH THE CUTEST FACE SCRUNCH and then gives you a little peck leaving you like 🧍🏻😳

seungmin- you two actually have similar energy but he’s like the dog version? i wouldn’t necessarily call him a black lab or anything, he’s just kinda the puppy version of you. (idk how to make it make sense. iykyk) you two just kinda vibe together and enjoy each other’s company without having to say a lot which is super nice. you just have this like rhythm and comfortability with each other that is just so ✨✨✨. there’s also this insane sixth sense with each other where you both feel out what’s going on in the room and know what to do without saying a word to each other. the amount of times where y’all have been hanging out with friends only to get up and leave without any notice to anyone else to be like, “yeah, we’re gonna go” bc both of your social batteries have drained and you two just need to go watch some tv. you’re both also incredibly protective of each other when necessary.

i.n- he just finds everything you do so adorable and endearing. think wednesday and enid but he doesn’t rly have the enid aesthetic, just vibes. you have more of a dark side which he admittedly kinda loves. you could be sitting there sharpening knives and he’s like, “aren’t they the cutest!” (exaggeration but you get the idea) you just exist and he’s your biggest fan though. omg you smiled at him once (kinda sarcastically) and it made his whole year.

[cookiepie111]

I'm insane HOWEVER! König with milf darling.

A/A This piece is finally escaping draft hell! Again started as rambling so sorry if its all over the place. not proofread, feedback would be appreciated 🙏🏾( Hopefully, part 2 at some point, eh🫠) x black fem reader

It stared out small, nothing terrible. He'd just admired you and your strength. Being a single mum wasn't easy.

The lady next door who's always so kind dropping leftovers at his house, she'd bring over missed letters and parcels to him.

He notices how you're always rushing back home whenever you drop something off as your youngest chases after you outside. He makes sure to come to you now.

He's seen you through the window struggling with your kids trying to guide them to the door with bags of shopping. Tapping away at the sink his eyes following you with shopping. He should help you, yet he stood there thinking a little while longer racking his brain for... something.

He can't help but project. Are you managing okay where is husband he must no good if he's not around if you're constantly struggling.

You'd invited him over a handful of time merly pleasantries, he refused each time. This time, when standing at your door, waiting for you to find his parcel, "Can I come in?" You're surprised he refused your previous offers, and frankly, you're a bit scared to have a man so.. intimidating in your home. You look to the side, hesitating "sure"

He sits at your coach, dwarfing the space around him. The scene before you reminds you of Alice in Wonderland, as if he'd drunk a position to grow making the biscuits in his hand look comically small. looking around your house, toys, books, honestly half your house was just scattered about. pictures of you and your children on the shelf, yet no baby pictures. Strange.

He's laying on the seat in his house, he's antsy, hasn't done anything in a while, in the army there's structure and routine he hadn't planned to be off for this long. He needed to put himself to work.

He felt bad, he was reminded of his mother he wasn't much help back then not much he could have done, but its different now, he can still help a mother in need right?

It wasn't exactly intense work, but it was something, your house needed a bit of help, and it wouldn't hurt to do something to keep his body busy. You were adamant he didn't need to. "You don't work, you don't eat, you've been feeding me for some time, let me put in the work." He was so flat with his delivery, A shocked look was all you could give him. that seemed to squash any argument in you.

He got work picking up the toys and items putting them in the fabric box, so flimsy. "You need a proper place to put this stuff. Your lack of furniture and storage, you should have spaces for these in your kids room". he thinks he's helping giving you good advice.

his words come out harsher than he expected. You tensed under his words, you'd been working yourself crazy trying to get your two kids settled in. You didn't want your oldest to become a second parent to their siblings. Between working and looking after your youngest, you simply didn't have time. You were making do with what you had. You didn't need this man shaming you. "Yes I, I'm trying." He hadn't meant for his words to come out as criticism of you. He turned back at the ground. "Wait here"

You turned looking out of the window huh?! He was dragging a cupboard out his house "wait wait what are you doing" was he serious? You could get a cupboard later. It took a lot of convincing that you didn't need it he could put it back in his house. If your neighbours were to look outside, they'd see your panicking form waving arms about over a confused giant. He let up but left at "fine tomorrow we can go and buy new cupboard"

" I can't I have to stay with my kids"

"Bring them" You're pretty sure he was giving you an order there, no room for discussion. This man is really throwing you for a loop, you're only pulled out of confusion when your youngest pulls on your leg. 'How did they get out so fast?!'

[shotmrmiller]

✨Toni~✨

I come with an idea. I need more FWB! Simon. I need angst, I need to suffer from this man, I know he would do us so dirty.

Like imagine since the both of him and reader are non exclusive, but reader gets knocked up. She's panicking because she's on birth control, trying to figure out who she slept with last and it's HIM-

And maybe, just maybe the last time they slept together, they had a fight. Because this Mansss decided to leave us after an argument, because he had another 'appointment'.

So yeah know, now we got to tell this dick we're knocked up. And I don't know you can go from there, if you don't like this idea, delete it ignore it.🫠

BUT ANGST.

Thank you for your time, I love you Toni you rock like always! 💓

oh, so dirty.

esp if i use the fwb simon from the (platonic) cbf johnny au i got.

Johnny held your hand as you waited the 5 minutes for the results of the pregnancy test.

"What am I gonna do if it's positive, Johnny? I can't...I'm not ready to be a mum!" you sniffled and took in a shuddered breath. "What are the chances that I'm the 1%?"

His expression was solemn, thin lips set in a firm line. "Ye finally gonna tell me tha' the father is Simon or do ye wish to continue playin' yer little game?" Johnny rasped.

You rest your head on his shoulder and tiredly close your eyes.

"Was hoping I'd never have to tell you. It was supposed to be just a quick knocking of boots and then we both went my merry, his miserable, ways. But as per usual, I'm just dogged by misfortune."

The wait for the timer to ring had your heart slamming against your ribcage. The prospect of birthing a child you never even thought about having had bile rising up to your throat, leaving an acrid taste on your tongue.

You start at the piercing ring of the timer but don't move to get up.

Johnny, forever your hero, is the one who bites the bullet for you.

He gently flips over the stick, stares at it for a second, then drags a hand down his face. He also doesn't look at you as he utters, "So are ye gonna tell 'em?"

You hastily crawl over to the toilet bowl and empty your stomach.

Pregnant.

--

You told Johnny everything. How it started that one night when he had been over here for drinks, and you had put Johnny to bed because he'd gotten to sloshed, to propositioning him and then the weekly hook ups.

Well, almost everything. He didn't need to know that you gave Simon a sloppy toppy in his kitchen while he snored away that same night you asked him to fuck you.

And then how it finally ended. Simon getting redressed at witching hour because some other tart called him to go over. (your thighs had still been wet from his spend at that time)

So you had called him an unpaid whore; A worthless piece of meat— good for nothing other than cock— and told him that if he leaves, you and he are done.

He had huffed out a laugh, grabbed his motorcycle helmet off your dinner table, and walked out the door without a backward glance.

Johnny hadn't said a word the entire time, but then again, he didn't have to. His countenance said it all.

Disappointment.

He looked so devastatingly disappointed that your eyes welled with tears in seconds and spilled— one fat drop after the other until he pulled you into his arms and held you as you wept, your grief and anguish visceral.

--

"Ye've gotta tell him, bonnie. He has the right to ken."

You let out an aggrieved sigh. Again, with this. "No. He hasn't texted in weeks. Clearly, Simon doesn't give a damn about me. 'Sides, we don't need him when you're around."

A wave of dizzying nausea slams into you, and your world beings to tilt on its axis.

"Don't feel so good, Johnny, I think I need to sit down."

Strong arms catch you as your body crumples and everything goes dark.

--

You rouse from your sleep and find yourself in Johnny's bed with a sharp pounding in your head. Groaning, you turn over to your side and press your fingers into your temples— hoping to alleviate some of the pain when your phone's screen lights up.

Simon's calling.

Goddamnit Johnny. Bloody nosy parker.

You decline it and wait for his text. He's always hated when you ignored his calls on purpose.

And there it is.

Where you ever gonna tell me?

Nothing you need to know about.

No? I thought you were on birth control.

We don't need you.

That mean you're keepin' it?

My baby? Yes, obviously.

Our. Stay at Johnny's, I'm coming over.

No, no. Stay at your girl's house. We'll be just fine without you.

Cute. I'll see you in 10.

(lowkey wondering how he would react if you told him it's johnny's. lol)