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sex-storytime · 3 months

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Rachel's Cherry

The first few months of college were a blur of new experiences, friends, and concerns. Here I was just an eighteen year old virgin intent on keeping my purity until the right person came along. But as months passed I not only saw more sexual sights and things done at parties and in dorm rooms but on the lawns of the campus and at pledging events. I became more and more distracted and increasingly curious about my sexual thoughts that just wouldn't go away. In fact that's about all I could think about.

As a virgin I still feared the experience and wondered constantly what it would be like the first time, how would it feel, would it hurt, would I enjoy it? And most importantly, would I be able to have an orgasm. Then there was a question of whether or not I should let the guy cum inside me. What would that feel like when he did? And lastly birth control, which should I use?

I had been experimenting with masturbation for quite a while now so that I could feel the pleasure, but not having to worry about all the risks so deeply instilled in me from my parents and others. But my eyes and brain both began to wander, whenever I would notice a good-looking guy in my classes. And, I would wonder how big his cock was when it was hard and how he was in bed. Then I would think they were just out to get laid like my mom always told me they were. Or, I would think that just maybe there should be more to the first time I gave my cherry than have a young stud taking his pleasure, and then brag to his friends that he had fucked a virgin. Little did I know just how the course of my life would change and lead me into a totally new and surprising erotic direction.

I met Jeff at the part time job I took in order to earn some money to pay for school. Actually he was my mentor while I was an intern at his company. The college thinks that life experiences are just as important as standard book knowledge. Therefore, each student completes an internship no matter what his or her major may be.

Jeff was friendly as well as business like from the start, and showed me quite a few things about the job I was to perform. He had this nature about him and I didn't feel the usual shyness when talking with new people that I usually had. He was thirty-five, newly single, with brown hair streaked with gray and deep blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled. He also has an impressive athletic build with wide shoulders, which tapered to a narrow waist and well defined yet smooth stomach. We worked together a few days a week and the occasional weekend during the busy months. I looked forward to spending my time with him.

I definitely had a crush on him. I let my eyes linger on him… I flirted with him neievely and felt embarrassed with myself after each lost opportunity. My blossoming sexual mind began to visualise touching his body and being held in his tender embrace. It was the highlight of my week when I found that we would be working alone, just the two of us. Just he and I alone in the big office most of the time right next to each other. I started to cherish our days together and felt I could talk with him honestly and seriously about anything. Besides helping me learn the world of finance he was starting to seem like an old friend who I could really open up to about anything. And I did. I told him all about my life and… my non-existent sex life… and that I was a virgin.

He told me about his past, his love life, his ex… but he never once made any moves on me. He respected me. He was my teacher and I was his student… that was how our relationship was supposed to be. On Fridays we decided to go out for something to eat since work ended later than usual. The cafeteria had long since closed and this was a much better alternative than a frozen dinner from the microwave in my dorm. We both went home to shower, and change. In the shower I began to think about Jeff and couldn't help but fantasise about his cock as I rubbed my pussy picturing holding me tight making love to me.

I smiled and decided that I would shave my pussy. My roommate had told me shaving makes oral sex from a man's tongue feel so much better. Not that I felt I would get any oral sex from Jeff! He had made his position quite clear… but a girl can dream. Once I had a smooth pussy, I dressed thinking that later I would come home and get myself off while I dreamed of Jeff's tongue on my clit.

After I finished shaving I dried off and dressed in white lace bra and bikini panties. I put on my shortest skirt, which accentuated the gentle curves of my hips and revealed my legs emerging from a little higher than mid thigh. I pulled my tight tank top over my head to show my 32B breasts pressing hard against the material. I blushed as I saw my nipples against the material and I imagined Jeff's hands and mouth cupping, licking and caressing each one. With a sigh I came back to reality and realised my panties had become damp with my wetness.

"What am I thinking, Jeff is older and probably doesn't even think of me other than as an intern at work or a young friend. But I bet unlike the one track minds of guys my age, he must really know how to please a woman before fucking her."

I smiled and thought of his blue eyes looking passionately into his he made love to my body before he fucked me long and hard. A man like him carried just as much about a woman's orgasm as his own. I quickly finished getting ready and tried to push the sexual thoughts from my mind. I headed to the restaurant to meet up with him, and pretended that this was going to be our first real date.

I was late to the restaurant and saw Jef, waiting patiently outside. He smiled when he saw me. I found myself running towards him and he gathered me in his embrace. I gazed up at his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes, his lips, god, his full soft lips, and he rested his hand on my waist. Our look, his hand, I felt myself filling with adrenalin, felt the sudden simmer of arousal. He sort of moved to me, but didn't quite, so, I was the one, I moved my head to his and leaned in and we kissed. It was lovely, just amazing. He tasted different to the other boys, but nice. We were so soft, so gently, our lips barely touching, the tip of his soft tongue touching mine. And then I felt his hand on my ass, gently touching me there, cupping me through my skirt.

I felt my small nipple become stiff, and sensed myself become wet between my legs. I am not sure I had felt this before, in this context, he kissed me, his hand was on my ass, so soft, and I felt a sudden dampness in my vagina. It was so arousing, to feel this, to feel my young body reacting. I rested my hand on his thigh, I didn't know quite what to do, I mean, I knew what I could do, I didn't know quite how far I wanted to take this, but, well, I moved my hand upward, up along his firm thigh, and I put my hand on his cass as I pressed myself into him…, and felt his penis, through his jeans… it felt hard.

"You look beautiful tonight, Rachel," he said, as his gaze traveled from my head to my feet and back up again lingering for just for a moment on my hips and the curves of my breasts. He guided me into the restaurant, placing a gentle touch of his hand to the small of my back. He even pulled the chair out for me! As we waited for our food to arrive we made small talk about work and my classes.

I noticed him looking at me as if he wanted to say something. "What is it?" I asked, feeling for the first time a hint of shyness.

"Rachel, I know you told me you are a virgin but I was wondering… Are you looking for… a relationship?”

“Are you?” I blurted out, flustered.

“Yes…”

“I have spent the last few months… trying to get your attention.”

“I noticed.” He seemed embarrassed. “You are so young… sexy… why me?”

“Because you are my dream guy I suppose. You are the man I have been dreaming of since I became a teenager… a sweet prince… older… wiser…”

“You-you like that?” He stumbled.

“Oh yes… I guess I am attracted to older men.” I replied honestly.

There was a few minutes of silence while we ate our food. I could almost see the gears of his mind working, trying to find the right words. This was my opportunity.

“I want you Jeff, and I know you want me.”

“You do… I do?”

“That kiss was more than just a kiss between friends… and… I felt how hard you were when we hugged…”

“But how can we make this work, I mean-”

“I want you. I want to be with you. Why don’t you take me home tonight?” I bravely said and waited for his response.

“But you’re a virgin!” Jeff whispered.

“And tomorrow I wont be.” I really was going to go through with this. I never felt so scared.

“Do you want to lose your virginity… to me? Tonight?"

I blushed blood red and nodded. I smiled. He miled. He bent forward and whispered, as his breath became warm in my ear "Do you know what you have been doing to me these weeks we have been working together? I mean the way you walk and press your body against my arm when we are studying something, or the way you sit and cross and recross your legs? Do you know you have been driving me crazy?"

I was shocked and showed it. I tried to speak but finally just shook my head no.

He held my hand and moved even closer to my face and ear. As he talked his voice gave me chills. I shivered from it. He smiled and took both of my hands and held them tight and said: "Well then I'll have to tell you… I want you too. You’re so pretty and tonight you just look… incredible. Yes, you turned me on. My cock is hard and swollen with blood with a big purple head everyday when you leave work, Rachel.”

“Then take me to your bed… make love to me, Jeff?”

“I want to make love to you. I mean I want to be your first! I want us to go all the way tonight. yes, come back to my place tonight, don't go back home alone. Come home with me Rachel and let me make love to you, let me teach you and give you the pleasure of sex, complete sex."

I must have been three shades of red now and started to actually shake inside because I wanted him too. Only I didn't know how bad he wanted me. He added as he captured the tip of my ear between his teeth and bit gently: "This will change thins between us… are you ready for that? Do you really want me to be the one who takes your virginity?”

“Yes… show you how great sex can be."

His eyes were now looking directly into mine. He came closer and lightly kissed me. My hands trembled as I tensed under his first seduction. He reached under the table and touched my smooth upper thigh just at the edge of my skirt. As he continued to look deeply into my eyes. I sat there looking at his handsome face and not saying anything. I felt his hand move up under the hem of my skirt and slide down between my thighs. He was stroking my right inner leg making me hotter and full of sexual need. No, I was burning up inside. Luckily we were seated in a secluded corner of the restaurant because he began to move his hand slowly higher still up my leg. I didn't stop him or say a word.

His eyes twinkled devilishly as he looked into my eyes and as he kissed me again I felt his tongue slip into my mouth and his hand touching the corner of my panty leg no more than an inch from my pussy. I squeezed my legs together, capturing his hand on the smoothness of the upper end of my inner thigh. When he covered my panty, cupping my pussy, my first reaction was to moan but then I remembered and said to myself: "My god if he touches my naked pussy he'll know I shaved myself for him!" And suddenly, I desperately wanted him to touch me there.

I looked away from him, to the guy next to me as we ate, when I felt his hand on my knee. I stopped breathing for a second. I didn't look at you or acknowledge your touch but secretly willed you to continue. He must have read my mind because he gently slid his fingers over my mound. My breathing quickened but I still kept my head turned to my left. His fingers fanned out and began to creep toward my pantie clad slit. I clear my throat and shyly looked into his amazing eyes. His lust was burning there.

I unthinkingly parted my legs for him, and hisfingers found the elastic of my panties. My clit was so swollen now, and I ached for his touch, but we were sitting at a large table, from the right angle we could be seen. I was dying to release the moans and screams I was holding back, and he continued to tease me under the table, silently and yet urgently. Oh god, what was I going to do?

His talented finger finger slips inside my panties… but goes no further as I squirmed and wiggled as gently as I could. Damn him for teasing me like this - but oh don't stop!

No one noticed us - amazing since I felt like I was wearing a big sign that sid 'fuck me now'. I was extremely horny for him, but it would be another couple of hours or so before we could be alone. Jeff knew exactly what to do, but he held back because we were right in the middle of the dinner.

"Rachel, are you alright?"

My voice was nowhere to be found. My throat was dry and I was dying to be fucked; but I was also too afraid to speak; Jeff knew what I wanted and needed.

As I was thinking it, Jeff ran a hand under my panty elastic and over my freshly shaven pussy. As his fingers went under my panties and over my bald pussy he smiled at me and said: "Oh my God, Rachel! A virgin who shaves! I like it and I want to see it."

I jumped when his fingers located my slit and I reached for his hand. I moaned the word: "No. No Jeff, not here. Not in the restaurant please! Wait until we get in your car?"

As I held his hand on my pussy, for some reason I didn't move it. I simply held it against my wet cunt and pressed slightly. Then he whispered, "I can’t wait… Open you legs wider for me Rachel. Open them."

I don't know why I did but I did. I opened my thighs wide and Jeff began to stroke up and down my smooth shaved pussy. I knew he could feel my wetness but I didn't care, I let him! To disguise our closeness I leaned into him and kissed him. I kept my thighs open and held his hand directly on my pussy as my tongue danced at his lips and he stroked me so softly and gently. The first person other than myself to ever touch me there was now doing it in a crowded restaurant and I loved it. I moaned softly as I sucked on his tongue and he made love to my virgin pussy.

As I closed my eyes I moaned his name. He kissed me a little harder as he rubbed three of his fingers up and down my entire wet slit. Then as I sighed I felt one of his fingers move into the entrance of my hole. As it entered my hole slowly, I didn't say no this time. I opened my thighs wider still. I moaned again. He had his entire hand now under the smooth fabric of my bikini panties; thighs spread wide open and letting him caress the smooth skin and hole between my legs.

As Jeff separated the folds of my pussy lips his finger began to enter my virgin pussy hole I just tried to speak, but only sighed the word, "Oh Jeff! Oh fuck your hand feels like magic! Oh fuck Jeff I am going to cum!" But, I didn't stop him!

I had to fight to stifle a moan as he entered me slowly but steady with that one finger. As he pushed and pumped it into me I pushed against it. Then he followed the first finger with another one. It felt so big going in. I opened my legs wider yet and moaned his name again. He put his arm around me and pulled me closer to him. As we kissed and let our tongues fight; Jeff continued to drive me crazy with his two fingers inside my pussy as he made love to it under the table. My brain was racing! "Was this really happening?" I thought as my mind raced and his hand and fingers explored deeper and deeper inside me. I could feel him bumping up against my hem.

"Jeff" I gasped as he continued exploring my pussy and pushing deeper into my hole. "Jeff, I'm a virgin. I wasn't kidding!" I whispered.

"I know, and if you will relax a little and let me, Rachel, I plan on making you a little less virginal after tonight. I can show you what sex is all about. How it can feel so good when you reach a mind-blowing orgasm from someone who really wants to guide you into the world of intercourse and have it be enjoyable and pleasant. Oh Rachel, it feels so much better when you have an orgasm from someone else giving it to you. I'll be gentle and loving and make you enjoy it."

I smiled and said, "I know Jeff, but I'm so scared."

He told me about using his tongue and his fingers and his hands and finally his cock. He whispered in my ear how I would go wild when he licked my pussy. He smiled and said that it would be even better since I had shaved down there.

I said, " Oh Jeff it's not that I don't want to be with you, it's that I'm frightened. Frightened it will hurt me so bad. Well… That's what I’ve heard… about a girl's first time."

Jeff continued to tell me, "I will also show you how to give a man the pleasure he needs before I finally take that barrier away and show you what it's like to have a man's cock buried deep inside of you."

He explained seductively in my ear about the thrill of oral sex and what it would do to me as my body felt the stirrings of passion and lust from someone else touching it for the first time. "I want to… but I'm scared Jeff." I said as I trembled and tears welled up in my eyes.

"You might be scared but your body gives you away Rachel. It tells me you want to continue," he said as his fingers were brought out of my panties first to let me see the wetness, my wetness. And, secondly he showed me his fingers as he put them to his mouth and licked them clean. I heard him moan this time.

"We will do this together. Take small steps. I’m not some young guy desperate for a conquest… I will be gentle, loving and easy. I will pleasure you, on your terms. I will go down on you, Rachel… have you enjoy oral sex. Then we will only proceed when you tell me you are ready," he said as he wiped a tear tenderly off my cheek and kissed me again.

“Thank you, Jeff. That’s what I need… your experience… your love.”

"Do you know what I mean when I say I will lick and suck your pussy first so you will be very wet and very, very aroused, aroused enough to accept me?" he finished as he took my hands in his and squeezed them.

I said: "I . . . I think so, Jeff. But I don't know."

He said: "Would you like to come home with me now and try?"

I said: "Yes." I don't know why I said yes. Maybe it was my time and he was the one. Maybe it was the touch of this man. Maybe it was my growing need. It was a need that seemed to get worse every day. But whatever the reason, I said yes. And we sat looking at each other holding hands.

The waiter soon came by and he told the man to package it up since we both had to leave. We both had other things on our minds as Jeff held his arm around my body as we walked to his car. He opened the door for me and I slid in. His eyes watched my legs open a little as I got in. He shut the door and soon after we were pulling into the complex where he lived. We held each other as we walked to his door. I told him again that I was so scared. I knew he could feel me shaking with it.

Immediately upon entering and locking the door Jeff pulled me to him and kissed me hard, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. I accepted it and sucked on it as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. He held me as I bent my back pressing against him. My tongue began exploring and tasting the inside of his mouth and then his entered mine. He asked me, "Are you glad you came?"

I shook my head yes. He said, "Then tell me. Tell me how you feel."

I tried to look him in the eye but didn't make it. I told him, "I'm glad I'm here with you, it's very exciting, but I'm also very scared.”

He smiled and said, "I'm very glad you're here too, Rachel. Please don't be scared. I'm going to be very gentle with you. And I promise you will love everything we do starting with the feeling of oral sex and everything else that goes with it. But first you should get familiar with a man’s body and let me get acquainted with yours. OK?"

I smiled and nodded. Jeff slowly began running his hands all over my body as he began removing pieces of my clothing. He told me if I had any questions I should ask him and I should also explore his body with my hands and eyes. I didn't stop him but watched his fingers first unbutton my blouse. As it slid it off my shoulders as we both watched it fall to the floor. He kissed me again and after kissing down my neck and into my cleavage he told me: "Rachel! You are so beautiful! You look stunning."

His hands reached up and cupped my breasts for only a moment before his mouth came down and sucked my nipple on the outside of my bra. I held his head with my hands holding his mouth over one of my breasts. I sighed and said, "Oh Jeff!"

I stood before the man I had chosen in just my bra and skirt. Jeff smiled at me as his eyes held my eyes. I felt him run his hands down my sides and then up under my skirt over each of my thighs all the way to the top of my panties. He had my skirt up to my panties and was teasing me a little as his hands swept over my vulva and stomach up under my skirt. I jumped and reached for his hand. He moved his hands off my pussy and I started to relax. Then we both heard the snap and zipper being undone on my skirt. He looked at me and said, "Rachel, do you want to take this off?"

I said, "Yes, yes I think so Jeff.

He said, "No Rachel, yes or no. Do you want me to take your skirt off?"

I said, "Yes I want you to take off my clothes," and as he pushed it down over my hips I wiggled out of the short tight skirt. When it hit the floor, he held my hand as I stepped out of it. As he undressed me, I now stood there not moving just watching him as he stepped back and looked at my body. I was standing before him now in only my bra and tiny bikini panties.

"Wow Rachel, your body is so beautiful and very sexy. I never realised how beautiful it was… you hid this so well why we worked. You are unbelievably lovely… gorgeous…" Jeff almost moaned the words as he pulled me to him and again rubbed my body against his as held me tight.

I felt the bulge of his cock hard in his pants against my naked thigh as we pressed together. He pressed his hips against me and began to rotate his bulge against my pussy. He smiled down at me and kissed my neck as he whispered in my ear, "Now it's your turn. Take my clothes off. Unzip me and release my cock for me Rachel. I'm getting so hard it hurts. Take it out and hold it, touch it, look at it, see what you have been doing to me all these weeks!"

I hesitated only for a moment. But, he took my hand and placed it on the outside of his trousers. I could feel his cock jumping and throbbing. He placed my other hand on his zipper and told me, "Take it out for me Rachel please? Show me you want this, don’t be scared to follow your instincts."

I looked down at his bulge and slowly unzipped his fly. He told me in a whisper: "Now take it out Rachel and feel it, look at it. See for yourself how hard it is. You should look at it and know about it. I will tell you all about my cock and explain what everything is once you release it. Take it out now Rachel and let me show you how hard I am for you…"

I sighed deeply and as my hands shook with excitement, I reached into his pants and took out his penis. It was beautiful! I looked so hard and thick and long. It throbbed in my hand like it was beating. In fact it was the first erect male cock I had ever seen in the flesh. As I unbelted his trousers and they opened more, it emerged completely from his boxers. I could feel its heat and its hardness with the skin around the hardness so soft. As I took the shaft in my hand I began to stroke it and squeeze it listening to him tell me what to do. I looked up at his face and smiled as he told me, "See it won't bite you. But, do you see how hard it is Rachel? You make it that way. When I see you, and stand next to you and we brush against each other while we work, I get hard like this for you everyday. Rachel… you make me so horny."

I caressed every inch of his 7-inch cock and the large set of balls that hung under it. Teasing the head with my nails rubbing gently across it and under the fat mushroom cock head, I pumping the shaft making him moan. Then my hands moving down the shaft as I worked on my first very, very hard cock doing everything Jeff told me to do. When a drop of pre-cum exited the hole in the cock head, Jeff told me all about it and how it got there. He told me to take my finger and wipe it off and then taste it. I did and it wasn't nasty like I was sure it would be. In fact it had almost not taste, maybe a little sweet. After a few minutes, Jeff said, "Oh fuck, Rachel that feels so good… But if we don't stop I'm going to cum and I don't want to, not yet, not like this anyway. There will be time for that in a little while. I didn't want to orgasm yet, I want you to have a few before you give me my own."

He was thinking of giving me several orgasms? I had waited so long for this! He gently pushed me back and my knees hit the edge of the large bed. As I fell back he stripped off the rest of his clothes and moved up next to me and began to kiss my neck and shoulders.

I watched as his fingers moved to my bra and unhooked the front clasp. I was going to try to cover myself, but didn't. He slowly pulled it open and then off my arms. He removed it completely and freeing my breasts. Then he stopped to look at them. I felt funny letting him see them but he kissed me and as his hand cupped one he said, "Oh Rachel, your tits are perfect."

I know I don't have huge breasts but I think they are adequate. They sit up high and they're firm with long pink nipples. Jeff smiled as he saw my nipples sticking out hard already. He used his finger to flick over them making them jump and bounce like a rubber band when he released them. With one of his hands he softly cupped a breast and squeezed it while his mouth and tongue moved over the other one and worked on it. He pushed the two together so that he could lick and suck both nipples at the same time. He licked up between my cleavage and kissed me again as his hands worked on my tits.

I kissed him and as he told me, "I can't believe how beautiful you are Rachel… you don’t need to do this… with me… if you are still a virgin. I already feel like a very lucky man being here with you tonight. You make me so hot and so hard!"

He then moved back down between my tits and again made love to my breasts for a long time. As I ran my hands through his hair and across his back I told him, "This is further than I have ever gone before Jeff. I want to be here… with you. Please be gentle with me."

He looked up at me and said, "If you’re sure?”

I nodded as he lavished his attention on my little titties.

“I will make your first time a good one. I’m honoured."

Fuck I loved it what his mouth was doing. His wonderful mouth was sucking and licking and sucking and licking all over my tits and nipples. Over and over again he sucked them making my nipples as hard as small rocks. He even bit them gently. I just laid back and moaned and moaned and moaned.

He looked up into my eyes and said, "Are you ready, Rachel?"

I softly said the word, "Yes…"

As I was saying it, he was moving his lips down my body and kissed my stomach and around the bottom of my breasts. He licked under them making me wiggle. "That tickles", I told him.

He licked around my stomach and into the belly button hole. I giggled again as I let my hands slide down still holding his head gently.

Further down he kissed. My body was moving from the feeling of his lips and tongue on it. Then he licked over the top of my bikini panties. As I felt him hooking two fingers in the waistband on each side of them, he started pulling them down my hips. He said, "Lift Rachel, lift up so I can get these off."

Now I was starting to worry again. My mom had always told me that once a lady lets a man take off her panties, she has no more defenses. She has more or less decided to give herself to the man taking them off. Why I did, I don't know for sure, but when I heard him tell me to lift, I did.

I lifted my ass up about a foot off the bed so he could remove my panties. They were very wet between my legs and stuck a little against my pussy. I looked at him and started trembling like a newborn kitten as he removed the panty off of each leg. He kissed each of them as he removed the panty off each of my feet. Then he looked directly at me as he put my panties to his face and inhaled deeply. He moaned as he dropped the panties on the bed. Jeff then came up and kissed me as I felt his hands move my legs apart. He said, "Now little one, don't be scared. It will be OK Rachel, I promise. You will love this I guarantee it. Now open your legs wide for me. OK?"

As I watched him I separated my legs and he said, "Hmmm a virgin with a shaved pussy! You look so beautiful Rachel. So lovely! You look good enough to eat and that's what I am going to do." He smiled at me as his hand slowly rubbed the smooth skin all around my pussy and he said, "Maybe you're not as innocent as I first thought?"

I smiled shyly and tried to close my thighs in embarrassment only to have him hold them apart. "I have a surprise for you" he said, as he reached for something on the side table.

I soon saw that it was strips of silk fabric, which he used to tie my wrists and bind them securely to the underside of the bed somehow. But what was more surprising was that I didn't protest at all. I just looked at him helplessly watching him do it. He was going to tie me up and deep down inside my brain… I knew I wanted this! I wanted to be bound! I wanted to be held tight so I couldn't resist. I was just going to let him have his way with me now. I had resolved to do this and I really felt I would never go through with it unless I was forced a little somehow. But! I didn't protest at all as he moved between my spread legs

As he moved around between them, I opened my thighs wider for him. He used his hands to gently but forcefully pushed them open even more. "Trust me" he said as his face lowered and he kissed first the skin of my inner thighs and around and up over my stomach again and back down to my inner thigh.

Then as I moaned loudly, I arched my back and closed my eyes as he finally began to lick my pussy. It was wonderful, unbelievable. His lips gave me a shock that went into and over my entire body. He was my mentor, my teacher and he was licking my pussy, my shaved virgin pussy! I had never felt anything like it before. It was a feeling, which can't be described by words. You have to experience having your pussy licked for yourself ladies. But please! Experience it! If you haven't had it done yet, get someone to do it to you. Trust me, you won't forget it and you'll thank me for telling you. A pussy was made for licking first before fucking. If your man isn't doing that, find another man.

Jeff's mouth and tongue drove me wild within seconds. "Oh Jeff, OH SHIT! OH FUCK!! I CAN'T TAKE IT!! AHHHH!!!!!!!" I screamed at just the first few touches of his smooth soft tongue against my naked pussy.

But he didn't stop. He relentlessly licked and sucked my pussy while I thrashed and moaned under his mouth. My hips were now rocking my pussy into his face as he sucked and licked me. He would lick from the top of my slit to the very bottom, and then used his fingers as he pushed back the hood of skin over my clit and he began to softly suck my clit into his mouth. I screamed with rapture!

At the same time he massaged my virgin hole with his fingers. I buck my hips up pushing against his face feeling myself lose all control. He had me! I was gone and the pleasure was driving me higher and higher. All I wanted now was more, more stimulation. He didn't disappoint me.

He raised up off of me then to look at my wet pussy so close to his face. He rested his head on one of my thighs so that he could watch his fingers play with my clit which was now sticking out from its covering and getting harder and harder under his touch. He applied the gentlest pressure around it without touching it directly for a time. I was pumping my pussy trying to fuck his face. I whispered, "Touch it Jeff. Touch my clit baby! OH FUCK! Jeff I'm going to cum! TOUCH IT!!"

Then he pressed directly on my clit, then released the pressure for a second before applying it again. As he pressed again the electric pulses seemed to travel from my clit all over my body. I tensed as his finger once again pressed and released again and as his other hand and fingers massaged and slightly entered my virgin hole.

Jeff said, "Don't worry Rachel you will cum hard many times before I fuck that little virgin hole."

He licked and sucked me teasing me and kept me from that final step that would make me cum! He spent so much time pleasing my body I was drifting and drifting in a world of bliss. And then, he finally let the orgasm I wanted, and which had been so close all along, to finally overtake my mind, body and soul. As he sucked directly on my clit I arched my back and moaned as tears sprang to my eyes, "Oh yes Jeff! I'M CUMMING, OH YES I'M CUMMING! OH FUCK YES! NOW! OH FUCK!!! OH FUCK!! OH YES! JeffNNNN!! I'M CUMMINGG AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!" And I did! I had back to back orgasms!

I screamed as he continued to suck me even harder. I felt the strange sensation of muscles tightening uncontrollably inside of me and then contracting and as I felt my cum almost running out me, he still continued to eat my pussy. I felt like I was peeing but I knew I wasn't. My orgasm seemed to go on and on and on as Jeff continued to love and stimulate my pussy and body with his fingers, mouth and tongue.

I had my ass elevated up off the bed and as he sucked, my body was fucking on his face. I was cumming and someone else for the first time was getting me off. It was my first time and I fucking loved it! I knew right then that I had to have more of this, a lot more. I don't know how long he continued to work on me but slowly I began to come down from my first real set of orgasms given by another person.

I watched Jeff untie my bindings, and helped me up allowing me to come into the embrace of his arms. We sat facing each other and my legs were over his. I could see his enormous cock inches from my wet and opened pussy. I signed and said, "Oh Jeff, that was so wonderful!"

As he held me stroking my hair and kissing me tenderly, all inhibitions I had were gone. I was his and only wanted to show him the joy and pleasure I had felt. I kept looking down seeing his hard cock throbbing with his excitement. I kissed him briefly before saying, "My turn. Tell me and show me how to do you with my mouth."

And I lowered my face between his legs now and let my mouth and tongue taste his cock. As he leaned back on his elbows I looked at him and asked, "What do I do first?"

It was another first for me tonight. Jeff's cock was the first one I had ever touched and now I was going to taste it. First I licked the tip and then I sucked the tip into my mouth and continued to suck more and more of his long hard shaft in my mouth. As I pumped his cock in and out of my mouth he gave me direction. I pressed my lips against my teeth and pressed my mouth gently around his cock as I fucked his cock with my mouth. As I did, I got so excited that I felt a wild need to cum again. So I reached between my legs and started to rub my pussy with three fingers.

I moaned and as I sucked him and parted my thighs as I began to finger myself. He saw what I was doing and moved my fingers away and started to finger my pussy with his hand and fingers. "Oh FUCK Jeff… that feels so good. You have such a delicate touch!” I moaned between sucking his cock.

As I continued to suck his cock he was pushing more and more into my mouth. I now felt the tip of the cock head touch the back of my throat as my lips stretched around the fullness. He said, "Do you want to try and take it down your throat?"

As he fingered my pussy, I tried to take his cock head down my throat but choked too much and we stopped trying. I made a mental note to learn how to do that since it was something this wonderful gentle man seemed to like and wanted. He pulled it out all the way and told me, "Lick it right here."

He showed me that part of his shaft just under the mushroom head, on the underside of his cock that is the most sensitive. I did as he instructed and he then told me to feel his balls too. That they had to be handled gently but were a big part of his sex organ and should be sucked and licked too!

I had one hand holding his cock up towards the ceiling as I licked the underside of his cock and the one hand squeezed his balls lightly. I ran my hand up the shaft now and rubbed the pre cum dripping out the hole in the cock head over the tip and around the head. Then I licked the cock head.

He moaned and said, "Suck me Rachel! Fuck, you’re amazing. Harder suck it harder!"

As he held my head with both of his hands now he pushed my mouth down over his cock and I began sucking it again harder as he began to pump himself in and out of my mouth faster and faster. He continued pumping until he groaned "MMMM!! YES BABE! YES! OH FUCK!! SUCK IT! I'M GOING TO CUM! I'M GOING TO CUMMING! I'm GOING TO AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! FUCK YES!!!!!!!"

I looked up into his eyes and could see the lust in them. He held my head and told me quickly as he pumped fast, "I'm going to cum in your mouth Rachel…”

“I want you to, Jeff,” I panted.

“Try and swallow it."

I nodded my head obediently with his cock still in my mouth getting thicker and harder. I continued to suck him and his moans were louder this time and I was sure he was nearing his own orgasm. I had never swallowed a guy's cum, or even let someone cum in my mouth for that matter, but I knew that I wanted to swallow his load. Just as I completed that thought I heard him groan. I felt his cock swell in my mouth, followed by hot jets of cum shooting out onto my tongue and into the back of my throat. The feeling was strange, but I found it quite easy to swallow his load. He continued to cum, so I kept swallowing every last drop that came out. As more and more cum filled my mouth I couldn't take it fast enough. His seed filled my mouth quicker than I could swallow.

I pulled my lips off his fat cock head gasping for air. His hand covered my hand. He was jerking my hand up and down as fast as he could go. I squeezed his hard shaft as I pulled my mouth off his cock head! The last few shots of Jeff's cum splashed on my chest and ran down over my chin and tits toward my stomach.

I continued pumping his cock until the cum stopped. I lowered myself again to lick the tip clean, not enjoying the taste as much as I did before. I would have to acquire this new taste so I could take more and please him. But, I knew I would take his cum whenever he wanted me to suck him off.

Surprisingly, his cock didn't soften but seemed ready for more. Gently Jeff lay me back on the bed and spread my legs very wide again. "I will be as gentle as possible Rachel, but I need to be inside you…", he said as he began rubbing my clit and slit once more with his hard cock head. I knew this was it! This was when I would stop being a virgin! He was now going to fuck me… pop my cherry… take my virginity from me.

"Oh Jeff! I'm ready, I'm so wet… I’m so ready… you won't hurt me.”

He stopped.

“But it will hurt…”

“Please? Just fuck me!" I pleaded. I wanted it so bad and now I had the one man who I felt would take my cherry as gently as he could. As I spread my legs wide he held my legs wide with my knees bent. He told me to guide his cock into my pussy hole. I did. I moved his hard cock head to my opening and told him, "I need this… I need you… I give my virginity to you."

This was probably a very bad idea. He wasn’t even wearing a condom. I wrestled with that thought for about one second, then his cock settled between my legs, the length of his shaft pressing against my wet folds, his hands on my hips.

Oh fuck he felt good. So soft yet firm, so wide and warm. Ooh, my whole body tingled. Nothing else felt like this.

He groaned and rubbed his shaft on me, bathing his cock in my slick folds. "Oh fuck that feels good," he breathed.

"Mmmmph," I agreed. I should probably tell him to stop before this got any further, but maybe just a few more seconds.

Then the tip of his cock pressed at my entrance. I froze. He felt so big. My body vibrated with the need to feel him inside me, to swallow his cock into my depths, and feel him stroke my insides like he had been stroking my opening.

He had gone just as still. I heard him swallow right before he pushed.

His cock gently parted my lips and, with barely any resistance, began to slide into me.

My mind finally caught up with the situation. "Jeff, no! Stop!" I yelped even as my inner walls clenched around him. I tried to pull away, but his hands held my hips firmly in place.

He grunted but stopped with his cock just past my entrance. It felt amazing, so warm and big and hard. My body wanted more.

"S-sorry," he mumbled but didn't move.

I didn't want him to. Or rather, I wanted him to move in both directions at once, part of my mind screaming for him to get out and the other begging for him to plunge all the way in. Instead, I lay there, frozen in indecision.

He pushed again.

"No! Jeff! Please stop!" Just the tip was one thing, but if he buried himself inside me, I wouldn't be a virgin anymore.

He groaned and pulled back out, just resting the tip at my entrance again. "Sorry! You feel so good, so warm and tight. Sorry..."

I relaxed, my heart beating too fast. But it was ok, this was fine. He wasn't even inside me, just touching me.

After a few seconds, he swirled the bulbous tip around my slick folds, glided between my lips to my clit and back again. I moaned. He had felt so amazing inside me. Maybe... maybe just the tip was fine. It wasn't really fucking.

When his rounded head settled at my opening, I pushed, just a little. That bulbous head slowly stretched my outer folds until the tip was lodged just inside my wet walls. It felt amazing. The first cock inside me. A little thrill of pleasure rushed through me. It was just the tip, it barely counted, but still so good. I shuddered.

I mumbled, "J-just the tip, ok? No more. Ok? That's it. It feels good..."

He'd gone very still, as though he was surprised I'd say anything like that. I should be surprised too. I think somewhere, some tiny part of me was panicking, but I couldn't hear it.

He swallowed again and nodded jerkily. "O-ok. You feel good too."

His voice was strained. The slight danger that he might get carried away sent a jolt of warmth to my pussy, and I clamped down on him. My thighs quivered trying not to push again, to capture just one more inch.

No sex. Just the tip. No sex. Oh my God, but my body wanted all of it.

He groaned and nudged at my wet flesh, slipping an inch of his hard shaft into me.

"Ah! No!" I squealed but didn't move. He was panting into my hair, his body tense. He didn't move either.

"Jeff, just the tip!" I panted and bit my lip. I couldn't make myself pull away, my pussy clenching around him.

"Oh. Um. Nnh." He stopped but didn't move.

We held ourselves there, lust rolling over both of us, waiting for something to give. He didn't wait long, shifting as he oh-so-slowly withdrew his cock back to my entrance, then gently forced my lips to swallow that round tip again, savoring every moment.

"Jeff..." God, it felt good but I couldn't let him fuck me.

He groaned and stopped again. I could hear his deep breaths, feel how tightly his fingers were digging into my hips as he tried to hold back.

"Y-you should stop now," I mumbled. My pussy was squeezing him. Oh wow, it felt nice and big, stretching me so beautifully. I wanted more, I wanted to be filled up.

I'm not sure if he heard me. He was probably busy fighting his urge to ram his cock all the way in and give me a good, hard fucking.

I shivered at how wonderful that sounded.

My pussy kept pulsing on his shaft, trying to hold him in no matter how much I should be pushing him out. He could probably feel me throbbing around him.

He pulled out again and I sighed as he held still with just the bulbous tip kissing my pussy lips. He stayed there and panted for a minute.

I couldn't help myself. His round knob felt so good sitting there between my parted folds, so tempting. I wiggled a little, felt that large head pop in again. Just the tip. Oooh. I squeezed it, imagining it sliding in further and further. Oh...

He tensed. I was too busy concentrating on how good his cock felt inside me to realize that his hands on my hips had shifted, that the bed had moved as he repositioned, and now he was ready to piston into me. He held still as long as he could.

"It’s time, Rachel... I’m going to... put it all the way inside you now," he said as he shuffled away.

My lust-filled brain took a second to register what he said.

“I know how much this means to you…” he panted as he jerked himself back to full hardness while lustfully staring at my young body. “Turn around with your face down and your ass in the air”. I felt my pussy prepare itself as I assumed tis new position on the bed. I wanted this older man more than I wanted anything in my life. I would do anything he asked of me.

His hands followed the flowing curves of my ass, over my hips then up my waist to my breasts, hanging now from my chest, just brushing against the bed sheets, sending shivers down my spine. One hand explored my neck, my ear, my hair… while the other reached around to tweak and tease my hard nipples before moving down and carefully prising apart my smoothly waxed folds. One finger rested on my hard clit without moving, but he pulled it away after feeling how my pussy was dripping with wanton lust for him.

He suddenly bent his knees upward and between mine, spreading my legs wide open around him. My breath caught in my chest as he slowly but surely edged forward until the large shiny head of his cock was pressed between my puffy pussy lips. Tiny movements rubbed the tip of his shaft against my clit and I moaned with frustration and desperate desire for my big strong boyfriend. When I made the sound his hand quickly covered my mouth and he stuffed three fingers in, pulling my jaw downward and making me pant as he realigned his hot thick cock with my vagina and slid forward to penetrate his gasping girlfriend deeply.

He rubbed the tip of his magnificent cock in my juices and then gently pushed the head between my swollen labia moving it past the inner lips and inside my hole. I watched as it inched its way into me. He stopped often to see if I was OK before going any further. As he met the barrier, he backed off and asked, "Ready?"

I moaned yes and he thrust forward and broke my cherry. I bit my lip as a sharp pain hit me followed by waves of unbelievable excitement. As I whimpered slightly he asked, "Are you OK Rachel?"

I said, "Yes… I want this… take me!"

He smiled and told me, "The worst is over Rachel. Now we can make love. Now I can show you what you have been missing all these years."

As he told me that, he had pushed all of his manhood deep inside me and held his cock almost completely still inside me. As he buried it all the way now I moaned from the thrill, which had taken over the little pain. Oh God he was all the way inside of me. I looked into his eyes and told him, "Ohhhhhh fuuuuuuck… oh you feel so good inside me."

Slowly but without pausing he pushed forward until the whole length of his organ was buried in my hot pussy, with my pink and swollen outer lips forced wide open and my tight little hole stretched obscenely around the base of his veiny shaft. I knew as he sank into me that he was forcing his penis up through the remnants of my hymen. He paused there, enjoying the erotic view and the physical sensations of his young girlfriend splayed open and stuffed full in front of him, his cock in her pussy and fingers in her mouth, as she groaned with pleasure at being taken like this.

After a delicious pause, I felt him slowly withdraw his cock from my pussy and the veins and ridges of his shaft massaged my inner walls. Just as I was about to whimper at the sudden empty feeling, he reversed the motion and sank back into my vaginal canal, which rippled around his shaft. He nuzzled his face in the back of my neck and kissed my back tenderly, but there was no let-up in his accelerating acquisition of my tight young pussy. My boyfriend held me tightly as he continued to enter me and then withdraw again, over and over, our sweaty skin making quiet noises as we rubbed together.

At its deepest point of penetration, his penis completely filled and stretched my young vagina and nudged against my cervix at the end. I had never had a lover before him but, as his large testicles pressed rhythmically against my most intimate skin, I counted myself very lucky to have found someone to be my first who had such a large and satisfying member.

With one hand I reached back to stroke his face and feel his soft hair as he continued to make me his own in the most natural and primal way. His movements were getting much faster and there was a growing urge deep in my belly as his veiny organ rubbed against the moist walls of my pussy. It felt so right to be cradled in his arms as he took possession of my body, and my arousal was dribbling down from our intertwined genitalia to moisten his testicles and my squeezable little arse cheeks.

He reached around and found my hard clitoris with two fingers, rolling it between them as he thrust his swollen organ into me and kissed my neck. I somehow knew this was a sign he was reaching his climax and he wanted me to cum before him. I pushed his hand away and arched my back as much as I could, which changed the angle of my pussy and allowed him more room to penetrate me with increasing speed and force. He grunted softly with each insertion and I mimicked his movements with my own arse in order to maximise the depth and force of his cock's invasion.

As I pushed my hips up to meet him he began to move his beautiful, lovely, sexy fantastic cock in and out of my vagina. Oh fuck everything he told me was true. It felt so wonderful. Much better than masturbation ever did. Much better than oral sex did too. This is what my pussy was designed for; to take a man's cock then take possession of a man's precious seed. As he pumped away I rocked my hips trying to match his movements and give him the same feeling! Oh fuck. So this was what fucking was, pure rapture, pure passion and pure lust! I felt the need to rock my body and fuck him as hard as he was fucking me. MY need and lust had never been higher. I screamed. "OH fuck yes Jeff fuck me faster! Harder fuck me harder!"

Soon I was completely filled with his cock every two seconds he would slam it into me again, and again and again as my juices flowed and it became easier for him to pump and pump in and out of me. I arched my back and lifted my hips as he pumped into me. I wrapped my legs around him and squeezed his body as my pussy squeezed his shaft internally. As I rocked my hips in time with his thrusts, we both began moving closer and closer towards an orgasm.

Oh Fuck, how I enjoyed the feeling of my first cock, his cock, so hard, so long and so dam thick inside of me. When I felt another orgasm approaching I screamed out with my joy and arched my ass up as hard as I could. I used my hips to rotate on his cock as the muscles of my pussy automatically clenched around his shaft milking it. My orgasm had taken control of my body and was fucking him hard and fast!

I squealed with overwhelming pleasure and shut my eyes as my vaginal canal clenched and squeezed around my boyfriend's thick penis and an orgasm spread from my genitals throughout my tingling body. The pleasure inundated my whole body and I wriggled and shivered in his arms as he brought me to climax and held me tight in his arms the whole time.

After a few more thrusts, Jeff was on the brink of orgasm and I grasped his hand tightly against my soft flesh, opening my legs and pushing my ass into the air to allow the deepest penetration of my pussy so far. After two more movements of his hips, Jeff grabbed my waist and pressed down, impaling me onto his throbbing organ as he began to ejaculate powerfully into the depths of my vaginal canal.

He moaned in relief as his semen spurted into my pussy, streaming into my deepest parts and filling me up, marking me as his willing and grateful partner. Jeff’s member kept on pulsing out thick creamy cum and his hands made marks in the soft skin of my thighs as he continued to press me down onto him so that every drop of semen was propelled into my eager young pussy. Will ejaculated such a volume of semen that it completely flooded my vagina and started to leak out around the root of his thick cock, mixing with the sweat and my own sexual fluids on my smooth bald pussy lips. I sighed in ecstasy as my pussy brimmed with the frothy ejaculate of my muscular boyfriend and I relaxed against his chest.

Jeff repeated my name, over and over again, like a ritualistic chant. It sounded so sexy. I could feel his warm thick cum fill me and overflow as he pumped himself gently in and out of me. I cried out my lover's name in reply as we slammed our bodies together again and again and again as the sexal bliss took me to a place of warmth and wonder. We held our bodies tight against each other as we rocked together finishing cumming. Jeff slumped on top of me, still pressing his penis down to the very bottom of my vagina, seemingly satisfied with the generous load he had pumped into my tight young body.

Finally, our joint climaxes began to drift away. We held each other for a very long time in the afterglow of our union…my first time. Being taken sexually for the first time by my powerful mate had made me unbelievably sexually aroused and even more completely in love with him. I could not wait to explore this new dominant side of my boyfriend's personality and hoped he would exercise his physical superiority over me again and again.

Later after taking a shower and holding each other close we finally got around to eating that dinner we took home. He made me sit with him nude and I didn't care at all now that he could see my tits or pussy. I would have bent over and showed him my tiny little ass hole if he would have asked me! I was truly his to do with as he felt. I would do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. This was the beginning of a mutually satisfying sex life for one young woman who was previously pure and completely inexperienced. It was this older man who had shown her the way. I knew he wanted more of me and I certainly wanted all of him.

#lovers #fucking #rachel #her pov #unprotected sex #her perspective #her point of view #first time #Rachel's Cherry #losing virginity #Popped cherry

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

the shape of your body (explicit)

genre: fluffy slowburn smut

pairing: jimin x reader

summary: the same day you finally manage to speak to your months-long public transit crush, you end up seeing much more of him than you bargained for.

word count: 24k 🙇‍♀️

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ (after a slow burn lmao) - new york city grad school AU, strangers to lovers, reader is an art student, public transit thirsting, jimin is a dancer and a nude model, namgi and vhope as side characters, basically everyone is gay (they're ART STUDENTS in NEW YORK CITY it's called realism 💅), a smidge of member x member side character relationships, jimin is biromantic demisexual 👀, conversations about body image issues/past relationship struggles/demisexuality and libido, soooo much making out, a couple "failed attempts" at sex, accidental voyeurism (but not how you think lmao YOU'LL SEE), showering together non-sexually, and: fingering, clit stim, nipple play, come eating/sharing 🤭 an attempted blowjob, face sitting, & protected sex (multiple rounds 🥵)

A/N: asjdshgkdfjgs i can't believe it's done 😭 there were so many times i thought i would never finish this fic !!! i have too many friends to thank for talking me off of SEVERAL ledges where i was convinced this whole thing was trash and that i should just stick to short porn or perhaps simply never write again. i'm so glad i saw this one through because there are concepts in here that are deeply important and personal to me wehhh 🫠 i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this one!! thank u for enduring mostly radio silence while i was in jimin lockdown, and of course, happy early birthday to mini, the light of my mf life 🥰💜 (oh and LDOMLT ch 8 is coming next so buckle tf up bitches 👀)

an eternity of smooches to @haliiimede for beta reading and just generally being the best fucking person on planet earth ✨ AND TO @goodsoop FOR THE DEMI SENSITIVITY READ VERY SORRY THAT I AM THE WORLD'S LARGEST IDIOT AND FORGOT TO CREDIT..... i love you both 🥺

read on AO3!

~*~

You’ve taken the subway thousands of times since moving to New York.

Morning rides, squeezed nearly to death between commuters in suits blinking back sleep and school-uniformed kids scream-laughing and paper coffee cups gripped tight by winter-numb fingers.

Long trips with your sketchbook on your lap, riding the line all the way to Pelham Bay Park and back, to surface above ground out where there’s a little more space to breathe, until the setting sun floods orange glow between the buildings just before you descend again.

Late nights coming home, Namjoon’s head thudding back against the train window behind him as he dozes off, one arm thrown around your shoulder to ward off any drunk creeps, his free hand interlaced with Yoongi’s on his other side.

It’s always been the three of you, first in friendship, and now that the two of them have figured out they’re something more, you don’t mind it. But when it’s late and you’ve had enough drinks to feel warm all the way through, to melt something open inside of you, and you glance over to see a loving flicker of eyelashes exchanged as Namjoon leans down and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s temple, you can’t help it.

There’s a little bit of an ache there, right behind your ribs. Sometimes.

But mostly, when it comes to the train, you take the 6 to school. You go through the motions this morning the same as you always do: headphones around your neck, bag slung over your shoulder, immediately dropping into the first empty seat you see as the train doors shudder closed and the car starts to move. Six stops down, 51st street to Astor Place, five days a week, you know it like a heartbeat.

You just wish you knew him, too.

Subway Boy, as Yoongi affectionately labeled him the time you got two pitchers of margaritas deep and made the mistake of confessing to your roommates about your crush— if it can even be called that. Can you truly have a crush on someone you know nothing about, not even their name?

Well, you know a few things.

He must live further north than you, because on the days you see him, he’s already on the train when you board at 51st.

He must like music, because he always has a set of fancy bluetooth earbuds in.

You’re pretty sure he’s an athlete of some sort, because he’s usually carrying a gym bag—and because during this summer’s heat wave, the one and only time you’ve seen him wear shorts, you nearly fainted at the thick, defined muscles of his thighs.

He has an affinity for jewelry, delicate silver always glinting through the multiple piercings in his ears. At odds with this, he seems to prefer to dress comfortably, and you’ve seen him in enough branded school t-shirts and sweats to figure he must also be an NYU student, though you can’t say for sure if he’s undergrad or graduate.

You deeply hope you’re not crushing on someone who still needs a fake ID to drink, but there’s no way to be certain.

Most importantly, you know that he is absolutely stunning. Elegantly handsome, with expressive deep brown eyes, skin like glass, and round cheeks and full lips that flush frozen pink on particularly frigid New York days. His hair has changed colors a few times over the months that have passed since you first took notice of him, but it’s currently a honey blonde, and long enough that he often reaches up to card a hand through it. He does it now, pushing loose strands back to expose his forehead as he frowns down at his phone.

On days where you share the same car, you notice very little else that happens on the ride, thoroughly entranced in Subway Boy’s beauty and his mystery. The train could probably catch fire and you’d miss it entirely.

Today happens to be one of those days, and excitement glitters in your bloodstream as you realize he’s seated across from you. The rush of seeing him always feels like its own reward, some kind of cosmic sign that the day is going to be a good one.

And then the train stops moving.

There’s an audible reaction from a few people in the car, and you glance up a moment later when a voice buzzes over the intercom. You’re able to make out “attention passengers” and very little after that, just the basics about some sort of unforeseen interruption of service and that the train should resume moving again soon.

You sigh, knowing very well that the MTA’s definition of ‘soon’ does not often align with typical human expectations. Figuring you’ve got some time to kill, you reach into your bag to retrieve your sketchbook and the first pencil you can dig out of the bottom.

“What did they say?” A voice, quiet and deep, surprises you before you can even flip to your in-progress page.

You glance up to find Subway Boy staring at you, forearms braced on his knees as he leans forward into the gap between his seat and yours. He’s got one bluetooth earbud pinched between his fingertips and a confused look on his face, having clearly missed the announcement.

Heat floods your face at the feeling of his eyes fixed on you, and it takes you a second to form a response. “Uh— I didn’t get most of it. Something about unforeseen interruption. And that we’ll be moving again soon.”

A muscle works in his jaw as he rolls his eyes. “Typical.”

“I don’t think they know what ‘soon’ means,” you murmur, mostly to yourself as you tear your gaze away from Subway Boy and return to the sketchbook in your lap, rifling through to find your latest half-finished drawing. When you hear him huff a laugh, you have to bite down on the hopeful smile that threatens to shine across your face.

“Definitely not.”

You force yourself to keep your eyes on the page, assuming Subway Boy must go back to his music when he falls silent after his last comment.

With featherlight flicks of your pencil, you start to add a little depth to the quick study you were working on last night, Yoongi’s half-peeled tangerine that he left abandoned on the coffee table when he stepped out onto the fire escape for a smoke.

Subway Boy’s voice catches you off guard a second time. “Are you drawing?”

You bite down on your lip again, a nervous habit, and you nod as you tilt the page so he can see from across the car.

“Wow.” You wonder if you’re imagining the way his voice seems to soften a little. “You’re really good. Are you an artist?”

You can’t help it— your gaze flits up to meet his again. It’s nearly overwhelming to lock eyes with your Subway Boy and hear him compliment you, like something out of a wild daydream. “I guess so,” you remark, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a small smile as you say it. “I’ve certainly paid NYU enough money in my attempts to become one.”

“Know the feeling,” he scoffs, but his eyes smile back, pulled into crescent moons.

“What did you pay them for?”

“Currently, a dual MFA/MA in dance and… teaching dance. Really went all-in on the dancer thing.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen automatically. You’ve wondered— and yes, occasionally drunkenly speculated with your roommates— what Subway Boy’s line of work might be, but you have no idea why dancer never occurred to you. Because now all the pieces suddenly fall together in front of you: the toned muscles that flex beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt, the natural grace he exudes, not to mention his perfect posture.

Of course he’s a dancer. It makes perfect sense.

It occurs to you, a beat too late, that a wide-eyed ‘oh’ is not the most normal response to a truly innocuous answer to a question asked of a random stranger.

But the smile in his eyes doesn’t falter. “I feel like I see you on this train a lot.”

Your stomach flutters like butterfly wings, and you have to look away, back down to the safety of your sketchbook. “Really?”

There’s an extra pause before he speaks again. “Man, sorry. Think I misread that. Now I feel creepy. I promise I’ve only noticed you a normal amount.” Your eyes snap back up to find him wincing slightly, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No, no, I’m— it’s not—” you stammer, trying to recover. “I, uh— me too, I have too. Noticed you. A normal amount. I… I don’t know why I just pretended like I didn’t.”

Subway Boy leans forward, head dropping down with a genuine laugh that shakes his shoulders, and you can’t help but laugh too, out of sheer embarrassment. He’s beaming when he rights himself again, and it sends a thrill buzzing through you, all the way down to your fingertips still clutched tight to your pencil.

“That makes me feel better,” he admits. “At least we’re both creepy.”

As if the universe itself is intervening to save you from any further humiliation, the train shudders back to life and begins to move again. The sigh you breathe is a strange mixture of relief and disappointment.

“That’s definitely a new record,” you say shyly as you move to shove your things back in your bag. “Maybe the MTA actually looked up what ‘soon’ means.”

His focus is tracked over your shoulder when you look up again, and his eyes dance left to right to chase the patterns in the subway tile as you pull into the next station.

“Guess it’s a miracle,” he says softly, not making eye contact.

“Must be,” you murmur back, letting your gaze drop to the floor, unable to hide your smile now.

He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do you, but the warm flush stays in your face for the rest of the ride. When the train pulls into the Astor Place station, you and Subway Boy get to your feet simultaneously, so quickly that your bags knock together as you pull them over your shoulders.

“Sorry,” you say in unison, immediately sharing an exhaled laugh at the synchronicity of the moment.

The doors slide open and he gestures for you to go first before following after. It’s a surprise— he’s never gotten off at Astor before, and when he doesn’t take the option of heading in another direction but instead falls into lockstep next to you, you seize the opportunity.

“Astor Place today, huh?” You hope the observation still falls into the category of ‘noticing a normal amount’.

“Yeah, first day of a new gig. What about you? Class?”

You nod. “Pretty standard stuff. But we start a new unit today, so that’s fun.”

“You in grad school too?”

“Yup, MFA in studio art.” You can’t help but tease, just a little. “Only one master’s degree for me, I’m such a slacker.”

His eyes squint again as he smiles. “Hey, I’m just glad you’re not, like, eighteen.”

“I thought that too!” You keep talking before you can stop yourself. “I mean, when I was… noticing. I distinctly remember thinking, like, please let me not be thirsting over a straight-up child right now.”

“Ahh...” Subway Boy trails off, and you can see a faint pink starting to blossom in the apples of his cheeks. “You were thirsting?”

You can’t help but scrunch your nose up slightly, resisting the urge to full-body cringe at your own stupid mouth. “We are now officially both creepy.”

He fidgets a little with the strap of the dance bag slung over his shoulder. “Hopefully I’m living up to the hype.”

You’re grateful to reach the art building before you can dig your grave any deeper. You nod your head in the direction of the glass doors as you slow to a stop, and he does, too. “This is me.”

“It’s actually me, too,” he remarks, glancing up at the building as if to double-check. “But I have a little bit, so I’m gonna grab a coffee I think. But it was nice to finally talk to you. Not that— sorry, that was weird. Take out the finally. It was good to talk. Meet a fellow starving artist and all.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, until you finally work up the courage to ask the question. “Do you have a name?”

“Oh!” His eyes widen, more heat-blush coloring his face. “Yeah. Park Jimin. Probably could’ve led with that.”

You give him your name, and his voice is like music when he repeats it back.

“Well, good luck in class,” Jimin says with a nod. “And hopefully I’ll see you around sometime.” A smile toys at the corner of his mouth, and then he pauses as his words seem to catch up to him. “Well, I mean. I guess I know I will. On the— train— yeah, I’m gonna go before I say any more stupid things.”

“Bye Jimin,” you giggle, and he gives a shy departing wave before he spins on his heel. As he walks away, you can’t help but notice the way he drops his gaze and shakes his head, like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his social performance.

And just like that, Subway Boy has a name— one that loops in your head as you float to class, barely feeling your feet touch the floor. Park Jimin. It’s sweet like him, warm sunshine in your veins as you shoulder open the door to the studio, grab a seat, and start to get set up.

A voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin as Kim Taehyung leans in, having occupied the seat next to you while you were off in la-la land. “Know what the new unit is?” You start to shake your head, then realize it was a rhetorical question when he waggles his eyebrows and continues. “Life drawing. Ready for some naked people?”

You roll your eyes and grab at the strings of his gray beanie, pulling it down over his fluffy hair and eyes in one swift tug. “Bro, we are literally in grad school. Stop acting like a virgin.”

“Like you weren’t thinking it too,” he grumbles to himself as he shoves the hat back up his forehead.

You shoot him a look as your professor signals the class to settle and launches in. It’s the same routine as each unit you’ve rotated through in your graduate studio, so you only half-listen, mostly distracted by Taehyung tearing open the paper wrapper of a red heart-shaped lollipop and popping it into his mouth. His latest oral fixation in his millionth attempt to quit vaping.

You lean down to dig into your bag, trying to ignore the sound of hard candy clacking against teeth as you fish out both pencils and charcoal to give yourself options. You pull a couple of each out of their cases, glancing up in an attempt to refocus on the professor, who is still talking.

It takes a second for your brain to process the image in front of you. His shy smile has been replaced with a serious, professional expression, but there’s no questioning the familiar face, the posture, the silver jewelry, the way he reaches up to run a hand through his hair. Subway Boy Park Jimin is standing in the center of the room, wearing a short black satin dressing gown.

Your jaw goes slack. It feels like it happens in slow motion as you watch Jimin’s strong hands move down to undo the sash at his waist before he shrugs off the flimsy fabric and lets it fall to the floor. And then he’s not wearing anything at all.

You lose your grip entirely on your handful of pencils, and they hit the studio floor with a clatter that certainly feels deafening, each one choosing to roll off in a different direction.

Taehyung glances over at you, brow slightly creased. The lollipop tucked in his cheek impedes his speech slightly, but not enough that you can’t understand him. “Now who’s the virgin?”

You crouch down, praying that maybe you can gather your things unnoticed, but it already feels like every pair of eyes in the room is burning a hole in your back. To his credit, Taehyung at least helps a little, extending a sandaled foot to kick any pencils he can reach over towards you. You scramble around the room to chase after the rest, and you can’t bear to look up and see if Jimin is watching you or not. You’re not sure which would be worse.

Fighting the urge to army crawl out of the room, you grip both hands tightly around your materials as you return to your seat, then tuck everything into the tray of the easel in front of you. You’re a professional, you tell yourself. It’s not like it’s your first time drawing someone nude.

It’s just your first time doing it when you happen to have a crush on them.

But it’s fine. You let out an exhale to ground yourself, then pick up a pencil. It’s just a body.

You vaguely recall hearing your professor explain that you’d be moving through ten quick-sketch poses to begin with, each held for only a few minutes, before switching to a few longer sessions for the rest of class. As you were too busy chasing your pencils around the room, you’ve missed the first pose entirely, and you have to work quickly to get a very rough outline of the second before Jimin moves again at the professor’s instruction.

He switches so fluidly from one pose to the next, and you have so little time, it’s enough to get you out of your head just trying to keep up. You find yourself falling comfortably into a flow state, focused on little more than lines and shapes in front of you and the act of reproducing them on your page. It’s an exercise you know well, and the repetition of it soothes you.

The studio is quiet, save for the scratching of pencils on paper and the soft classical music your professor has switched on.

By the time you finish sketching the tenth pose, it feels like you can breathe a little easier, and your professor offers Jimin a quick break just as you lean back to admire your work. You do your best to quickly duck behind your easel as he stretches, then reaches for a bottle of water set on a nearby table.

Taehyung removes his sheet of sketches and sets it aside before leaning in, pressing his face against his easel to match yours. “He’s cute. Bet he gets like, infinite ass-pussy. Just the absolute most.”

“Shut up, Tae!” You jerk your foot out to kick the leg of his chair, and a boxy grin stretches over his face as he giggles. You stare daggers back. “You’re too damn horny today. Like you didn’t just get your ass eaten in the supply closet last week.” The rumor had spread through your cohort practically overnight— probably started by Taehyung himself.

The menace in question shoots you an over-exaggerated wink. “And I’d do it again, too.”

You roll your eyes. “Nasty.”

The professor claps to get everyone’s attention again, and you peer around your easel to watch as Jimin resumes his place at the center of the room. You settle in for the first of a few longer, more detailed sketches, trying desperately to keep your cool about it. But Jimin is unquestionably gorgeous.

He turns to the side for the first pose, arms wrapped around his muscular torso and eyes downcast, fingertips and thumb resting over his neck and chin as if to cradle his own face in his hand. After a long stretch of time where you manage to get most of a sketch done, the professor cues him to move into a second pose, and he faces the back wall, reaching up to drape his arms over each other, crossed wrists resting delicately on the crown of his head.

You could easily see him as a statue carved out of marble, and you try to ignore the flutter of your heartbeat as you attempt to translate his beauty onto your page each time. You have to hold in several sighs as you work on outlining the strong, toned muscles of his back and thighs— not to mention his perky ass. You can’t help but wonder if the rest of the class is struggling silently, too.

You’re beginning to think you might survive after all when the professor asks Jimin to move again and he does, shaking his body out slightly before reaching to grab a provided stool and shift it to the center of the room. He takes a seat, abdominals flexing as he leans back on his hands and unabashedly lets his legs fall open.

Fuck. You nearly snap your pencil in half.

You try desperately to keep it together as you start your third sketch with unsteady hands. The minutes tick by, and you aren’t aware of Taehyung’s eyes on your paper until you hear his stupid whisper again. “Why aren’t you drawing his dick?”

He’s not wrong. There is a noticeable blank spot at the center of your page. “I’m getting there,” you huff. “Worry about your own sketch, Tae.”

“Girl, you are literally doing detail shading on his legs and he doesn’t even have a penis. What is he, a Ken doll?”

You grit your teeth and refuse to dignify Taehyung with a response. Fine. You can do this, you tell yourself. Don’t think. Just look and draw. It’s not a big deal.

With a hard swallow, you trace your eyes down his body, and… well, you don’t know what you were expecting. It’s just a soft penis resting limp between his legs, framed by an extremely regular pair of balls. Nothing scary, though you can’t quite will the heat back out of your face, can’t manage to silence the recurring thought that makes your stomach drop— it’s cute.

You resist the urge to smack your head against your easel as you finally fill in your sketch’s dick.

You somehow manage to survive the rest of class, but relief still floods your veins when your professor signals for everyone to wrap up what they’re doing for the day. Jimin starts to come alive again from the fixed pose, tilting his head to one side until something cracks audibly in his neck. You tear your gaze away for fear that his eyes might find yours, and shove everything into your bag as quickly as you can, not even caring what ends up where.

“Where’s the fire?” Taehyung questions beside you, but you ignore him.

You zip your bag up and sling it over your shoulder, then make a beeline for the exit, keeping your eyes fixed firmly on the floor. It’s only once the studio door swings shut behind you that you feel like you can breathe again, and you have to keep yourself from outright sprinting to your next class.

~*~

The rest of the day rushes by in an overwhelming blur, your focus entirely shot by the events of the morning. You collapse into a seat on your train home, hugging your bag to your chest, thankful for the first time in your life to not be sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.

When you turn your keys in the lock and stumble in the front door of the apartment, the divine smell of what could only be Yoongi’s cooking immediately hits you full-force. You find him in the kitchen with a towel thrown over his shoulder, searing a large steak in a cast iron pan for what must be a planned date night with Namjoon.

You wrap your arms around his tiny waist from behind as you approach. He responds with his usual greeting: a soft grunt of mild discomfort.

“Can I ask you a question?” you ask, trying to sound as sweet as possible.

“You just did,” Yoongi notes.

You decide to let his sass go, since you really do need help. “Two more?” Yoongi hums, somewhat affirmative, and you continue. “I know you work like 47 jobs and never get any time off—“

“Some of us have to pay rent without the luxury of stipends or rich parents, yes—“

“But is there any way I could… maybe possibly encroach upon your date night just this once? It’s an emergency. I need advice.”

Yoongi sighs, and you shift to peek over his shoulder, arms still wrapped around him as you watch the way he tilts the pan to one side, collecting butter on a spoon to baste over the steak as it cooks. You squish your cheek into his bicep.

“Lucky for you,” he begins, his tone relenting, “Namjoonie just called. They’ve got him working late to prep for the exhibition next month. So date night was canceled anyway.”

“Aw, Yoongiiiii.” You squeeze him tight enough that he makes another disgruntled noise, and you finally release your grip. “I’ll be your girlfriend tonight.”

He rolls his eyes, but willingly plays along. “Then get the wine, darling?”

You fall into a typical routine: Yoongi pulls a tray of roasted vegetables out of the oven as he lets the steak rest, while you grab a bottle of red at his instruction and fight with the corkscrew in an attempt to get it open. Yoongi watches you, slow-blinking, unamused.

“You wouldn’t last an hour in the restaurant industry.”

“Either help me, or shut up,” you hiss through clenched teeth.

When you finally get settled at your tiny kitchen table, Yoongi nods as if to prompt you while he fills each wine glass with a heavy pour. “Let’s hear it.”

You take a deep breath before launching in and recounting the events of your day, trying not to choke as you simultaneously stuff your face with food. Yoongi eats and listens quietly, no discernible reaction on his face save the occasional lift of his eyebrows. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest as you finish detailing the way you ran out of the studio the minute class ended.

“Alright. So you saw Subway Boy naked, big deal. Do you know how many dicks I’ve seen?”

You groan. “Spare me the details, please.”

“But this is what you wanted, right?” You shrug, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t play coy now. You’ve been lusting after this kid for months like a weirdo. So why are you stressed?”

“Because!” you huff, frustrated. “It’s— it’s out of order. It’s not like he chose to get naked in front of me specifically, he obviously just thought it was going to be a roomful of strangers. And it seemed like maybe we could be friends or something, but now I don’t know if I should keep pursuing that or just leave him alone. I want to be respectful, but I don’t want him to think I took one look at his penis and decided I didn’t like him anymore, but then it’s like, how do I hold a conversation when he and I both know I have seen his penis, not only seen but studied it, drawn it, and will continue to, weekly, in detail, from multiple angles—“

“You are absolutely overthinking this,” Yoongi laughs into his glass of wine, downing the rest before he continues. “Just get on the fucking train and say hi like a normal, well-adjusted human. This is my advice to you.”

You sigh as you shove a roasted potato in your mouth. “At least you’re a good cook.”

“I’m a great cook,” Yoongi corrects you as he gets to his feet. “Now help me with these dishes.”

~*~

Yoongi’s advice continues to echo in your brain as you lapse back into something like normalcy for the rest of the week.

When the day of your studio class rolls around again, you find yourself hustling not to miss the train, having hit snooze on your alarm a few too many times that morning. You fly down the subway steps just as the 6 is pulling into the station, and you try to ignore the way your pulse is already quickening, telling yourself it’s just from rushing and nothing else.

Pulling the strap of your bag up on your shoulder, you make it to the platform just as the train doors slide open, and your heart instantly leaps into your throat. There he is, leaning against a pole, overwhelmingly beautiful as ever. Park Jimin.

He’s scrolling through something on his phone and hasn’t yet looked up to notice you, and you find yourself frozen in place, jostled angrily by commuters exiting and boarding the train on either side of you.

Panic floods your veins. There’s no time to talk yourself off the ledge, no time to remember Yoongi’s words of wisdom, no time to do anything but make a snap decision. So you do the only thing that feels right: you turn around and sprint back up the stairs and out of the subway station.

The sidewalk is equally bustling, and you try to dodge people while you think through what to do despite the way your head is spinning. You were already going to be cutting it close for time today, and you don’t exactly have the disposable income for a taxi or an Uber. As you try to settle your racing thoughts, your eyes alight on a rack of Citibikes.

Fuck it. You don’t have a better option. Securing your bag on your back, you quickly scan the code to unlock the bike, then shove your phone in your pocket and swing your leg over the seat.

You’ve never biked in Manhattan traffic before, but it can’t be that difficult, you tell yourself. Definitely easier than sharing a subway car with Park Jimin.

Thankfully the street you’re on has a defined bike path, and you do your best to follow the flow of traffic, squeezing your hand brakes to slow to a stop when you hit a red light. It’s been years since you’ve ridden a bike that wasn’t stationary, but it comes back to you relatively easily, like— well, riding a bike.

When you hit a long stretch of green lights, you do your best to pick up speed, trying to make up for lost time. An approaching red light threatens to slow you down again, and you breathe a sigh of relief as it flips to green at the last possible second.

Just as your front tire rolls into the intersection, a deafening car horn nearly gives you a heart attack. You instinctively slam your grip tight around your brakes, and your bike screeches to a halt so fast you’re almost flung over the handlebars. A taxi just barely veers around you as it plows down the intersecting avenue, and you gasp for air, adrenaline coursing through your system.

Holy shit.

You drop one foot to the ground for leverage as you try to get your pulse back under control— you’re pretty sure you just saw your life flash before your eyes. Reality feels a million miles away, but you’re vaguely aware of someone shouting after the car as it speeds down the street.

“Fucking asshole!”

It takes a few seconds for you to realize that it’s a familiar voice, and when you do, you whip around as best you can with a bike between your legs.

“Yoongi?!”

“Oh my god,” Yoongi groans, knuckles blanching as he presses down on his own brakes. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You squint, taking in the helmet strapped over his wavy dark hair and the insulated bag tucked into the basket on the front of his bike. “Since when do you deliver food?”

He grimaces, speaking up to be heard over the noise of traffic. “I just do it to make extra money when my hours suck.”

“What about the coffee shop?”

He shakes his head. “They only have me opening Mondays and Wednesdays right now.”

“What about the bar?”

“That’s just weekends, reliably. Sometimes extra evenings, but only if someone calls out.”

“What about the—”

“Christ, woman!” Yoongi cuts you off with a growl. “The food’s gonna get cold if I have to sit here and run through my entire résumé with you! Are you alright? Why aren’t you taking the subway?”

“Because!” you snap back. “There is a man on that train whose dick I’ve seen and I… I don’t know how to handle it! Okay?!” Though you don’t intend to raise your voice, it comes out loud enough that a group of high school kids on their phones exchange stifled giggles as they fast-walk around you.

“Well you need to be fucking careful,” Yoongi chides. “Biking in the city is not for the faint of heart. And if I’m not allowed to give in to my suicidal ideation, you’re not allowed to crack your head open on the pavement all because you’re trying to avoid a penis.”

“Fine,” you spit back through gritted teeth. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.” You push off the asphalt, legs still shaking a little with excess nerves as you re-find your balance and make your way cautiously through the intersection.

The rush of wind in your ears isn’t quite loud enough to drown out Yoongi calling after you as you bike away. “It’s only weird if you make it weird!”

When you somehow make it to Astor Place in one piece, you dock your bike and quickly sprint to the building, well aware that you’re already late. It’s only once you push the studio door open that you realize how truly frazzled and out of breath you are, and though you keep your gaze fixed on the floor, you can feel every pair of eyes in the room on you. You hold a hand up in an apologetic wave and hurry to find your seat.

Trying to collect yourself, you begin to unpack your materials as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the class. You nearly jump out of your skin when you hear Kim Taehyung’s voice beside you.

“You’re sweaty. Why are you so sweaty?”

He’s got an eyebrow cocked when you look over, and you give him the most powerful death glare you can muster, enough that it must actually scare him. “Shutting up now,” Taehyung murmurs, voice shaking slightly as he returns to his own sketches, and you huff an exhale as you attempt to catch up to the rest of the group.

Class passes surprisingly quickly once you manage to get your breath back, much in the same way it did the week prior: you do your best to compartmentalize the body in front of you from the human person you have a giant, embarrassing crush on. It goes decently well in the moments where Jimin is frozen in a fixed pose, just lines and curves and light and shadow for you to emulate. During the breaks when he comes alive again, you hide out behind your easel, trying to ignore Taehyung’s inane bullshit and wishing you could disappear entirely.

The second your professor dismisses everyone for the day, you stuff your things back into your bag, hoping to once again speed-walk out of the room.

But despite your better judgment, you can’t help yourself this time. As you get to your feet, you glance up to watch Jimin pull his dressing gown back on, only to realize his eyes are already on you.

You’re distinctly aware of how much of a mess you must look from biking over, and the fact that you almost assuredly smudged charcoal on your face when you reached up absentmindedly to scratch an itch mid-sketch.

Jimin’s plush lips turn up in the smallest of smiles, and the bottom drops out of your stomach.

With a hard swallow, you avert your gaze from his, sling your bag over your shoulder, and quickly make your escape through the studio door. You can feel your pulse pounding in your throat even after he’s out of your sight, and your hands shake like a leaf all the way to your next class.

~*~

That night, sleep evades you until the early hours of the morning, and it feels like you’ve only just begun to doze off when the harsh noise of your alarm pulls you up from dreaming. You roll over in bed and glare accusingly at your phone, then shut it off, promptly letting the waves drag you under once more, seminar be damned.

It’s nearly noon when you finally make it out of bed and stumble into the living room in your sweats. Namjoon is curled up in his reading chair, a feat for someone of his size, surrounded as always by his massive stack of ever-changing ‘to read’ books. He glances up from the one that’s open on his lap, clearly surprised to see you.

“No class?” Namjoon’s voice is rough-edged, like he’s only just woken up himself.

“Skipped,” you grunt. His eyes track you as you cross the room and collapse face-first onto the couch.

“Is this about the penis?”

The cushion muffles your groan. “Not you too.”

You hear the distinct fluttering sound of Namjoon closing his book and shifting in his seat to give you his undivided attention. “Seems like you want to talk about it.”

You turn your head to the side to take in your roommate. “Maybe. Are you gonna give me the same stupid advice your boyfriend did?”

He smiles softly, one dimple flexing at the corner of his mouth. “I can try to be gentler.”

You huff as you flip onto your side, pressing your palms together and slipping them under your cheek. “Sounds like you’ve got the details already, so please. Enlighten me. Tell me how I’m supposed to handle seeing this guy naked once a week in the name of art.”

“Didn’t William Blake say ‘Art can never exist without naked beauty displayed’?” Namjoon poses it like a serious question, brow creased as if in contemplation, and you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Joon, did he? I said enlighten me, not write me a thesis.” You reach up to grab a couch pillow and fling it in his direction, missing by several inches. “Did Blake have anything in there on dealing with a naked crush and trying not to make it weird as fuck?”

“Well, does he seem weirded out by it?” Namjoon counters, patient as ever.

“I don’t know.” You shrug unsurely as you play back your last interaction with Jimin. “He smiled at me yesterday, at the end of class.”

Namjoon steeples his fingers together, leaning forward slightly in his chair, interest clearly piqued. “Okay, and what did you do?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “I… threw all my shit in my bag and ran out of the room.” When you crack an eye open again, you can see Namjoon trying and failing to keep the smug smile off his face, his dimples giving him away.

“Maybe you could try smiling back next time?” he gently suggests.

You sigh, because you know he’s right. “You make it sound so easy. What’s next? You’re going to tell me to talk to him?”

He laughs a little. “I’d quote another poet, but I fear you might launch more projectiles at me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Let’s hear it, nerd.”

Namjoon clears his throat for dramatic effect before launching into a recitation. “‘It’s cool, not tryna put a rush on you / I had to let you know, that I got a crush on you.’”

There’s a wide grin on his face as you sit all the way up. “Did you just quote Biggie Smalls at me?”

“Hey, I appreciate all forms of poetry.”

You feign annoyance, but you can’t quite hide the smile beneath it, and you get to your feet as Namjoon continues to mumble a verse of Crush on You under his breath. “Whatever. I need to do laundry.”

“Oh—” Namjoon pauses to interrupt himself. “Lucky’s closed, by the way.”

Already halfway out of the living room, you whip around again at the mention of the laundromat you’ve been exclusive with for the last few years. “What?”

He nods solemnly. “Me and Yoongi found out the hard way last week. They’re putting in an Equinox.”

Your face twists in disgust. “A stupid bougie gym?! You’ve got to be kidding me. Where am I supposed to wash my fucking clothes?”

“We found a place a few blocks up. Quick Clean, or something like that.” Namjoon shifts to dig his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send you the address. It’s not bad, just a little more expensive.”

“This is such bullshit,” you groan as you stomp back into your bedroom, the day already off to a terrible start.

In a gentrification-induced rage, you angrily shove the contents of your overflowing laundry hamper into the giant yellow IKEA bag hung up in your closet, just barely managing to fit it all. Glancing at the mirror on the back of the door, you briefly consider changing out of your sweats, or at the very least doing something with your hair, but you shrug it off— it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone at the damn laundromat.

You grab your headphones off your desk and sling them around your neck, double-check that your sketchbook is still tucked into your bag, then lug everything out to the front hallway. You pull your slides off the shoe rack and slip your socked feet into them.

“Bye, nerd!” you call over your shoulder to Namjoon before the front door slams shut behind you.

By the time you make it to the weird new laundromat, you’re sweaty and pissed off. You knew the walk to Lucky’s by heart, but you had to do this one while looking down at your phone GPS and trying not to get hit by a car. Not an easy feat while carrying every article of clothing you own over one shoulder.

You miss the way the nice old man who owned Lucky’s would greet you warmly and sneak you a cup of coffee from his pot in the back, the way his cat would roll over on the front counter for belly rubs, the way there was always a deeply entertaining telenovela playing on the ancient tiny TV.

The stupid Quick Clean has none of these things, just a shitty pile of magazines in the seating area and weirdly sticky floors. You slam into the front door a little harder than is necessary to push it open, the bell tinkling violently overhead as you enter. The only compliment you can give the place is that it’s relatively dead, save for a couple people on their phones or half-asleep in chairs as they wait on their stuff, and two guys in the corner loading armfuls of wet clothes into a pair of dryers.

You grab a machine a respectful distance away from them and swing the door open when a laugh that’s nearly musical gives you pause. Unable to shake a sense of familiarity, you glance over at your neighbors again, just in time to see one of them reach up to run a hand through his honey blonde hair.

Your IKEA bag hits the sticky floor with an audible thud as panic kickstarts your heart.

This isn’t fucking happening. Of all the laundromats in New York City, you did not just manage to stumble into the one currently being used by Park Jimin.

But even before you can catch a glimpse of his profile, you’re already certain it can’t be anyone else. You’ve spent too much time familiarizing yourself with the slope of his neck, the definition of his forearms, his dainty hands. There’s no mistaking them, adorned today with several silver rings that catch the dim fluorescent light as he grabs more of his clothes from the washer.

The desperate need to turn around and run rises up in your chest, just as before, but this time you steel yourself. You can’t keep running away forever— particularly not when you pulled on your last clean pair of underwear this morning.

A rush of heat floods your face at the thought of the many pairs of underwear in your bag that will soon be sent spinning around this washing machine, where Jimin could easily see, but then it occurs to you that you have seen his penis. Maybe the trade-off will put you on slightly more equal footing.

But you really don’t need to be thinking about Park Jimin’s penis in this laundromat right now.

Shaking your head slightly to try and banish the thought, you set about your laundry routine, trying not to drop any unmentionables on the floor when you dump the contents of your tote into the washer. You dig quarters out of your bag and slot them into the machine, then press the button to start the cycle.

With a final exhale to steady yourself, you turn to look over your shoulder again, only to find Jimin leaning up against the empty dryer next to his, unabashedly watching you with a small smile on his face.

It occurs to you now that you couldn’t have put less effort into your appearance if you tried, and you’re suddenly hyper-aware of every random stain on your sweatpants and your extremely fashionable socks and slides combination. Jimin’s just in a white t-shirt and a pair of distressed jeans today, but literally everything looks fresh off the runway on him. You suppress the urge to walk out the door and go lay down in traffic, and instead take Namjoon’s advice: you smile back and even lift your hand in a shy wave.

You drop into an empty chair across from your machine and watch as Jimin starts to cross the room to join you, his eyes never leaving yours. Before he can make it, you suddenly become aware of someone else sliding into the seat beside you.

“You didn’t tell me she was cute, Jimin-ah!”

Eyes wide, you turn to see Jimin’s friend sprawled out next to you, one arm draped lazily over the back of your chair. His wavy dark hair peeks out from under a lime green beanie, and he’s swimming in an oversized long sleeve tucked into baggy pants, cinched tight at the waist with a Gucci belt.

“Jung Hoseok,” he gives you a nod. “Friends call me Hobi. You can call me whatever you like.” The way his wide smile pulls his mouth heart-shaped makes you giggle a little, slightly dazed by whatever the fuck is happening right now.

You hear Jimin sigh as he takes the open seat on your other side. “Please ignore Hoseok’s tendency to come on way too strong. If it makes you feel any better, he’s as gay as they come.”

Hoseok flicks his wrist just so. “Guilty as charged.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” you say with a shrug, your gaze flitting from Jimin to Hoseok and back again. “I have two gay roommates, so.”

Hoseok hums, clearly interested. “Gay together or gay separately?”

“Gay together.”

He narrows his eyes. “Open to a third?”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected question. “Uh, I’d have to ask.”

He looks like he’s going to say more, but Jimin interjects. “Hoseok— can we get a minute?”

Hoseok’s lips pull together, fish-like, and he nods as he gets to his feet. “Say no more. I’ll just, uh…” He fumbles, looking around for something to do, then crosses the room to take the open seat next to the sad pile of magazines. “…do a little light reading.” He picks up one at the top of the stack, holding it up for you both to witness. “Oh look, the queen died!”

You bite down on your bottom lip to suppress another laugh, but Jimin’s face is surprisingly serious when you look back at him. “I just want to say one thing,” he murmurs, voice low, “and then I’ll leave you alone.”

Nerves settle in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight. “Jimin,” you start, and when he opens his mouth to keep talking, you blurt out the first thing you can think of.

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison, and there’s a beat where you both blink, equally taken aback by the other’s apology. It’s quiet apart from the rumble of the laundry machines and the distinct sound of Hoseok smacking the magazine over his mouth, clearly more invested in your plot line.

You break the silence first. “Wait, why are you sorry?”

Jimin’s eyes drop down to the floor, one black boot toeing nervously at the tile. “I figured you were upset with me because I didn’t warn you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise when you play your initial conversation back. “Oh my god— when I said graduate studio art, you… you knew.”

He nods, somewhat remorseful. “I was kind of hoping that maybe it would be a different class, but. Yeah. I figured. I’m really sorry, I should’ve—”

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I get it. I’m not mad, obviously I didn’t even put it together until right now.” You pause for a second and can’t help but smile a little. “And, I mean, how do you just casually work that into your first conversation with someone? ‘Great talking to you, ready to see my dick in five minutes?’”

Jimin’s head tips back when he laughs, his cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. “Right.”

You can feel your own face grow hot as you realize what you’ve just said. “God, sorry, I didn’t mean to— clearly I don’t know how to handle this. That’s why I wanted to apologize, for avoiding you and being weird.” You twist your hands uncomfortably in your lap. “I’ve just never been in this situation before, and I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to talk given… the…” Every cell in your body screams at you not to say the word ‘dick’ again. “Yeah. I thought it might be easier to keep my distance. Keep it separate.”

Jimin’s eyes drift back up to find yours, and his casual beauty is so stunning, it’s enough to knock the air out of your lungs. He shrugs softly. “I mean, maybe it would be. But I don’t want to.”

“Great,” you manage a laugh, still breathless. “Because I nearly died on a Citibike the day I didn’t take the subway.”

He laughs, too. “Not gonna lie, I missed seeing you on the train.” You’re not expecting it when he extends a hand out. “Friends?”

You realize belatedly that he’s offering a handshake, and you gently take his hand in yours. His skin is soft and warm, a contrast to the cool metal of his rings that press into your palm as he squeezes.

“Friends,” you echo with a smile, squeezing back.

There’s a sudden thump and a cackle as Hoseok falls out of his chair with a peal of laughter. “You are so fucking weird, Jimin-ah!” he gasps from his spot on the floor. “Who shakes hands?!”

The two of them keep you more than entertained until the buzzers on their dryers sound a second apart from each other. You learn that Hoseok and Jimin are roommates, that they met as dance majors in their undergrad program, and that Hoseok now works as an adjunct instructor and freelance choreographer.

“Because some of us decided we wanted to actually make money instead of digging ourselves further into debt,” he explains with a sly grin and smack delivered to the back of Jimin’s head.

You watch as they meticulously fold, Hoseok regularly leaning over to redo Jimin’s work and chide him about wrinkles, and then they stack the clean laundry back into their bags and head for the exit.

“Bye, new friend!” Hoseok calls as he maneuvers the door open with his foot, and Jimin pauses at the threshold, the bell overhead tinkling gently.

“So… guess I’ll see you on the train?” he asks, like he’s still a little unsure, and your heartbeat flutters.

“Guess so.”

“Cool.” He gives you one last soft smile before he disappears after Hoseok. The bell sounds again when the door shuts behind him, as if to snap you back to reality.

The floating feeling in your stomach doesn’t quite dissipate even long after Jimin has left the laundromat. While you wait on your clothes, you flip to a blank page in your sketchbook and start on something new: the outline of a hand extended in mid-air, rings glinting like an offered promise.

~*~

The next week, Jimin is waiting for you on your morning subway ride, the dance bag that he usually keeps tucked between his legs set on the bench next to him. When he sees you step through the train doors at 51st, you watch him reach over to swing the bag down to its rightful place on the floor, freeing up the space. An open invitation.

You can’t help but feel a little shy as you sink down next to him and murmur your thanks. There’s something about being this close to him that just makes your mind go blank, puts you at a loss for words entirely.

To your surprise, he doesn’t try to strike up conversation either. Instead he plucks one fancy bluetooth earbud out of his ear, gives it a diplomatic swipe across the fabric of his joggers, then holds it up, pinched between his fingers in front of you.

Another invitation, you realize dumbly.

The corner of your mouth turns up as you pluck the bud out of his hand and press it into your own ear. The music that must have paused itself upon the earbud’s removal resumes, and your smile grows when Jimin quickly unlocks his phone to restart the song from the beginning.

An acoustic guitar and a light, pretty voice fill your ear, underscored by a gentle yet driving beat, not unlike the rumble of the train beneath your feet. It’s like the rest of the world fades away to nothing as you stare down at his sneakers next to your shoes, hyper-aware of the mere inch or two of space between you in this moment.

As if to prove your point, the train comes to a sharp stop, enough to make you slide a little on the bench and then you’re suddenly not just close but touching, all the way down, an unbroken line from shoulder to hip to knee.

When you look over in surprise, Jimin is already looking back at you. You swear you can feel warmth radiating out from him at every point where your bodies press together.

After another dazed moment, you come to your senses enough to scoot over, breaking the contact with an embarrassed laugh as you feel your face grow hot.

Your gaze drifts back down to the floor, only to snap up again at another brush of contact, this one not initiated by you or by the motion of the train. Instead, you realize Jimin has spread his legs an inch wider to purposefully touch his knee to yours again and leave it there. You blink softly as you look over at him, but he’s staring firmly out the window of the subway car now, smiling with just his eyes.

For the rest of the ride, you think of little else but Jimin’s knee pressed against yours and the pretty pink flush in his cheeks.

You stay in comfortable silence, music floating in your ears as you exit the train at Astor Place together, until you reach the studio, where you finally return the borrowed earbud. He smiles as he tucks them both back into the case, then pushes open the door and gestures for you to enter first.

Jimin shoots you a final look before your paths diverge, and you sink into your seat with a small, dreamy sigh. Your bliss is short-lived when you hear Taehyung’s voice over your shoulder.

“That was fast.”

You whip around to shoot him a look. “What was fast?”

He makes a face, like it’s obvious. “You’re already banging the model and it’s been, what, two weeks?”

Taehyung’s just close enough that you can lean forward and smack him on the arm, and he hisses in a way that has to be an exaggeration. Thankfully he seems to take the hint, and manages to actually keep his mouth shut as the professor commands everyone’s attention at the center of the room.

When Jimin emerges in the usual black satin, you try to keep your composure, but you can’t ignore the chill that dots up your spine when he lets the fabric fall to the floor.

Nevertheless, you sink into the routine of class, the thrill of Jimin’s naked body now equal parts familiar and exhilarating. The only difference is that today, when you’re dismissed, you make no effort to quickly pack up. You instead purposefully take your time, adding a few extra details to your last sketch before you finally start putting things away. Your gaze flickers up distractedly to see Jimin pulling his dressing gown back over his body as he moves to close the distance between you.

“Hi,” he says simply when he reaches your easel, and you smile.

“Hi.”

“Sorry, is, uh— is it okay that I talk to you, when I’m—” He gestures vaguely to his lower half with one hand, using the other to keep himself covered.

You swallow hard at the thin layer of fabric and everything you know lies beneath it. “Yeah, it’s okay,” you say, hating how breathless you sound.

“When are you done with classes today?”

It takes an extra second for you to remember your own schedule. “Uh, six.”

Jimin fidgets with the satin material in his hands, clearly a little uncomfortable. Or maybe nervous. “Would you… want to get dinner after? With me?”

Your stomach flutters as you nod. “Yeah, yes. I’d like that.”

~*~

When you emerge from your last class, you find Jimin waiting for you on Astor Place, and you’re not expecting it when he greets you with a single question: “Do you like sushi?” You answer affirmatively, and he nods over his shoulder. “Then let’s walk this way.”

You end up tucked into two seats at a place you’ve never been to before, where rolls and other plates of food zip past you on a steadily moving conveyor belt. Jimin shows you how to pop the plates out from their protective domes, and you gather a small feast of options on the table between you to share.

“So,” you start with a nervous smile, chopsticks hovering in midair. “Can I ask the obvious question?”

He quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“What made you decide to nude model?” The words alone send fresh waves of heat and nerves through you, sparkling in your chest. “Or have you done it before?”

“I haven’t,” Jimin confirms with a shake of his head, then he pops a piece of sushi in his mouth as if to buy himself time. He chews, bringing a hand up as he speaks with his mouth still half-full. “Do you want the real answer?”

You nod, and his adam’s apple jerks as he swallows. There’s a look on his face like he isn’t quite sure what to say, and then he exhales a weighty sigh. “I’ve struggled with my body for a really long time. Especially in undergrad.”

Your eyes widen slightly— you weren’t expecting such a serious response.

“Dance doesn’t typically have the best culture for that to begin with,” he continues, “and I’d spend literally all day staring at myself in a mirror, so I would just… pick myself apart. Always convinced I wasn’t good enough, that I needed to lose more weight, always.”

The thought of it makes your heart ache, but you let him talk.

“I’m through the worst of it now, so please don’t feel like you need to be worried. But I have some friends who’ve done this kind of thing before and it seemed like, I don’t know, a good challenge?” His brow creases, contemplative. “I really love art, so I thought maybe if I did it, I might be able to see my body in a new way, through the eyes of other people. Of artists.” He pauses, then nods, like he’s said his piece.

It takes you a second to respond. “That’s… beautiful, Jimin.”

He looks down, clearly a little uncomfortable. “Sorry if that was too heavy.”

“I can take it,” you say softly, and it’s enough to make him glance back up in surprise. “Thank you for telling me.”

A faint color floods his face. “Thanks for listening.”

You eat in a silence that’s oddly comfortable, and when you both reach for the same piece of sushi and end up knocking chopsticks together, he lets you have it, picking up the thread of conversation again as he smiles. “What got you into art?”

You make a face, chased by an unsure shrug. “Is it bad if I say it’s the only thing I feel like I’m good at?”

Jimin laughs a little. “I don’t know that I believe you.”

“I mean,” you lean back in your seat. “Maybe not the only thing, but I’ve just never been able to see myself doing anything else. I’m not cut out for the corporate life, as much as my parents wish I was. Art’s always been the thing that I go to in my free time. When I’m feeling so much that it’s overwhelming, or so numb that it’s like I can’t feel anything, the act of creating something just… brings me back to center again.” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “It’s an outlet, I guess.”

“Well, if it helps, you’re very good at it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a small smile. “But it’s not even about being good, at least not to me. Maybe it sounds weird, but I don’t really have any interest in being the best. It’s art, so it’s all subjective anyway. I just wanna make stuff.”

Jimin smirks as he adds another empty plate to the growing stack in front of you, tongue poking briefly at the inside of his cheek before he speaks. “I could stand to be more like you.”

“Your turn,” you shoot back. “Why dance?”

At this, he actually brings a hand up to cover his face, and his voice is muffled under his palm when he responds. “I can tell you exactly why, but it’s embarrassing.”

You shift a little in your chair to get a better look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed! It’s not like I—” you cut yourself off before you can very obviously finish the sentence with ‘haven’t seen your dick’, and you shove a piece of sushi in your mouth to shut yourself up, so fast you nearly choke.

Jimin laughs loudly into his hands, and then you’re laughing too, dropping your head down on the table to try and chew your food without asphyxiating.

“Okay, okay,” he gasps when he can finally manage to take a breath in. “I’ll tell you.”

He sets his chopsticks down, overly serious. “When I was little, I was obsessed with Titanic. Specifically the scene where they dance together, and Rose rises up on her toes in front of everyone.” There are practically stars in his eyes as he recounts the moment, and you can’t bear to cut him off. “I just thought she was so beautiful, and I wanted to be like that. Almost broke my toes trying to go en pointe barefoot like an idiot.”

You’re silent for a moment, and there’s a flicker of panic in Jimin’s face, like he’s worried he overshared. “I have to be honest,” you say softly. “I’ve never seen Titanic.”

His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “What?!”

Already expecting the reaction, you grimace and nod. “I know, I know. Everyone gets mad at me for it. Go ahead.”

Jimin’s eyes flit from your face to the remaining piece of sushi on the plate between you, then back again. “I mean, we can go solve this problem right now, if you want.” He pauses, then admits with a giggle, “I have it on DVD.”

You shrug, trying to act casual despite the way your pulse has started to quicken. “They canceled my morning seminar for tomorrow, so I’m down.”

He leans forward to steal the last piece of sushi with a smug smile. “Then let’s get out of here.”

It’s a short train ride back to Jimin’s place, and you make it in the front door just in time to see Hoseok slipping out of what looks to be his bedroom. You barely process him as the same person— tonight his dark hair is swept off his forehead, and he’s in nice dress pants and a white button-down, unbuttoned just enough to display the delicate spread of his collarbone.

“Hi kids!” he calls in greeting, and you wave back as you kick your shoes off.

Hoseok crosses to grab a mirrored pair of aviators and his keys off the table by the front door. “Daddy’s going out. You two have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He pauses for a moment, like he’s waiting for a joke to land, then cracks a grin. “By which I obviously mean do whatever the fuck you want.”

As Hoseok pulls the door shut behind him, you follow Jimin into the living room, where you perch nervously on the edge of the couch while he disappears into the kitchen. “Do you like prosecco?” he asks, raising his voice slightly to be heard.

“Uh, I think so,” you say unsurely. “I don’t think I ever developed enough of a palette to have wine preferences.”

“White and sparkling?”

“Sounds good,” you respond, and then you hear the distinct noise of a cork popping before he returns with a bottle and two glasses in hand. He sets everything on the coffee table as he takes a seat next to you, then leans forward to fill both glasses nearly to the brim.

Jimin’s face flushes when you giggle softly at the pour. “Sorry— I like to drink. You don’t have to finish it all.” You shrug and take a healthy pull from your glass. It’s crisp and light, with little bubbles that fizz and pop all the way down.

“Hoseok calls me a lush,” he admits with a shy laugh as he picks up his own drink and turns to face you, sitting back against the arm of the couch. You shift to mirror him, curling your socked feet up under you. He takes a sip, then seems to think better of it, leaning forward to set his glass down on the table again. “I did want to tell you something. A couple of things, I guess.”

The sentence makes your stomach twist, and you try your best to ignore it. “What’s up?”

Jimin’s lips press together for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure out how to word whatever he’s about to say. “I’m not, like, trying to be presumptuous by telling you this but I just— I don’t want it to go unsaid and then come up later and be a whole big thing, so. I just want you to know that Hoseok is my ex.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but certainly not that.

“We dated freshman year of undergrad, for… maybe three months? It was the kind of thing where I knew I was bi in high school but was too scared to act on it, so when I moved to New York I just, like, dated the first gay person I met? Which was probably a little shitty of me. We quickly realized we work much better as friends, and it was a very mutual thing. No hard feelings.”

You nod slowly, trying to keep up. “And you’ve lived together since then?”

“No, no,” Jimin replies quickly, and he nearly grimaces as he continues. “At the end of last semester, I, uh… I got out of a pretty bad long-term relationship.” The way he says it makes your heart sink a little. “And she and I lived together, so Hoseok was extremely gracious and offered to take me in.”

He reaches for his glass of wine again, then pauses with it halfway to his mouth. “Ideally the number of exes I’d be living with would be zero, but. You know. This is definitely the better option, at least until I can figure out what comes next.”

A pause settles between you while he takes a long drink and you try to process all this new information. “I’m sorry about the breakup,” you say softly, and he shakes his head as he swallows.

“Don’t be. It was a very good thing. Long overdue.”

“Well,” you correct yourself, the corners of your mouth pulling up. “Then I’m sorry that it took so long.”

At this, he smiles back. “Me fuckin’ too.”

After one more sip, Jimin sets his wine back down on the coffee table, then rolls off the couch— surprisingly graceful— to retrieve Titanic from the small collection of movies lined up on the shelf beneath the TV.

“Ready?”

“This better have a happy ending,” you murmur over the edge of your wine glass. Jimin laughs so hard he nearly tips over.

He settles next to you again as the movie starts, painted pretty in the blue glow of the TV, and you try your best to watch the movie, but it’s hard to keep your eyes off him. Partway through you notice him grab a pillow off the back of the couch and hug both of his arms around it, curling up small.

Cute, you can’t help but think to yourself, and you can feel heat settle in your face as you try to refocus on the story.

When you reach the dancing scene Jimin sits up a little, lips parting slightly, that same starry look in his eyes as when he explained it initially. The mental image of a younger version of him equally enraptured by the moment nearly makes your chest cave in.

The movie goes on, and you’re draining the last of your second glass of wine when out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin’s eyes go wide. Jack and Rose are closely examining a rare diamond necklace, and you don’t understand what he could be reacting to until Kate Winslet delivers her next line.

“Jack, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls.”

Your eyes go just as wide as Jimin’s, and you let out a laugh of disbelief that’s nearly a scream. “Oh my fucking god, Park Jimin! You did this on purpose!”

“I swear, I didn’t! I didn’t even think about that part until right now!” He shakes his head desperately as he gasps for air, and he doubles over with his own laughter, rolling right off the couch, arms still clutched tightly around his pillow.

“I literally cannot believe this.” You dissolve into giggles as you sink to your knees on the floor beside him, close to tears.

It takes time for you both to recover, but Jimin eventually manages to pull himself back up to sitting, shoulders still shaking slightly with laughter. He lets the pillow drop to the floor and presses both of his palms down into it as he leans towards you. “But hey, maybe that’s why I like you.”

He’s so magnetic, so beautiful, you can’t help but lean in, too. “You like me?”

There’s a warm glow of color in his cheeks, and you’re not sure if you can blame it entirely on the wine. “I do.”

Your lingering smile slowly starts to soften, and now your heart feels like it might pound out of your chest. “So what, you’re Rose and I’m Jack?”

His gaze drops to your mouth, his voice barely more than a whisper as he murmurs, “Uh-huh”. Imaginary violins swell in your head as you surge forward to close the distance and press your lips to his.

Jimin’s lips are soft and warm, and your head spins as you sit up on your knees and lean into the kiss. While his mouth moves gently against yours, his palms press to the small of your back, and the heat of his hands radiates through the thin fabric of your shirt. You wrap your arms over his shoulders, partially for balance and partially in an attempt to pull him closer to you.

He tilts his head, and you whimper against him when you feel his tongue trace delicately over your bottom lip. He returns a breathy noise back as he licks slowly into your mouth, like he’s taking his time, like he’s not in any rush.

Even though you can feel your arousal starting to build, heavy in your gut and slick between your thighs, you realize: you want him to take his time with you.

You’re surprised at the loss when he suddenly leans back, just enough to break the kiss, still keeping you held close. “Is it, um—” he clears his throat, then tries again. “I don’t… want to go any further. Than this. At least not tonight. Is that okay?”

Your eyes search his, and you’re a little breathless when you manage to get the words out. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m good with that. With whatever you want.”

“Okay.” You exhale a laugh when he reaches over to find the remote on the coffee table and pause the movie. “I want to keep kissing you, if that’s alright.”

“Yes, please,” you murmur against his lips.

Jimin shifts a little, and you follow his lead, letting him tip you backwards onto the floor, your arms still looped around his neck, one hand now tangling in his honey blonde hair. He drops a forearm down to the carpet beside you, his other hand coming to rest at the curve of your waist, knees bracketing your hips as he covers your body with his.

He alternates between sucking on your lower lip and gentle passes of his tongue into your mouth, the hand on your waist tracing a lazy path down to your hip and back up again. Something pulled tight inside you starts to slowly unwind, blooming open as you sink into the rhythm, into him.

It’s been such a long time since you’ve just kissed someone like this, without it feeling like part of a race to get naked. And you’ve never been kissed like this in your life— so soft, so attentive. It’s enough to make you dizzy, even with your back pressed flat to the floor.

You lose track of how much time passes as you trade open-mouthed kisses on Jimin’s living room carpet, until he finally pulls away again. Still in a daze, you shift the hand in his hair to gently cup his face, not quite able to believe that he’s really real.

“God,” Jimin breathes, laughing quietly to himself. “I really like you.”

You smile as you blink up at him. “I like you too, Jimin.”

Rolling over, he drops down onto the floor next to you with a blissed-out sigh. He stretches his arms overhead, spine arching like a cat, then lifts up again to glance back at you. “Do you want more wine? ‘Cause we’re only like halfway done. This movie is stupid long.”

“I could go for more,” you answer with a shrug, still smiling.

In one swift move, Jimin flips his legs over his head and effortlessly somersaults up to standing, and your eyes go wide. “How do you fucking do that?!”

“I’m a trained professional!” he calls over his shoulder as he sashays into the kitchen. You giggle a little. “I would break every bone in my body.”

He’s humming prettily to himself, and you hear the sound of the fridge opening and closing, followed by the pop of another bottle being uncorked. You pull yourself back onto the couch as he rejoins you and pours fresh wine into both glasses, and a sudden curiosity urges you to ask a question. “Is Titanic your favorite movie?”

Jimin shakes his head, but says nothing, and the strange hesitant expression that flashes over his face just makes you that much more intrigued.

“Let’s hear it.”

His eyes flit over to you, then back to the wine glasses. “You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t!” you exclaim, lifting a hand when he scrunches up his nose, doubtful. “Promise.”

With a reluctant sigh, Jimin sets the bottle back down on the table, staring straight ahead as he admits, “It’s The Notebook.”

You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep your mouth in a straight line. At least you manage not to laugh. “I— wow. Really?”

He nods like the reaction is expected, picking up his wine glass and settling back against the couch cushions. “I don’t know, there’s just something about it. It’s comforting, to me.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you murmur, gently nudging his thigh with your foot until you coax a smile out of him.

“You know what?” Jimin’s voice is thoughtful now, more self-assured. “I am.” He takes a sip of his drink before he continues. “For a long time I didn’t want to be. Or thought that I couldn’t be. I used to always try to be so. I don’t know. Masculine, I guess. I think some of it had to do with denying my sexuality, but even once I got around to accepting that, there was still this part of me that would just never allow myself to be… soft.”

His gaze drops down to the wine in his glass, and you sit up, tucking your legs underneath you to scoot closer to him until you’re side by side. “I like you soft,” you say simply, and he looks over at you, still smiling.

“If we watch The Notebook I will cry.”

“That’s okay.” You lean into him to seek a kiss, made sweet from the wine. He hums a little against your lips before you pull back. “Same time next week?”

~*~

Just like that, you fall into a regular routine with Jimin: sharing his headphones on the morning train, sketching out the shape of his body in studio, then picking up takeout and wine to bring back to his place and split over a movie. As predicted, The Notebook does make him cry, and when you show him Kimi no Na wa the week after, hot tears stream down your face at the final scene, the way they always do.

He takes your head in his hands as the credits roll, his thumbs swiping at errant tears on your cheeks. You chase a sniffle with an embarrassed laugh. “Okay. We’re even now.”

On your fourth movie night, partway into Moulin Rouge, something emboldens you when you see Jimin reach for his usual couch pillow. You lean over and gently pry it out of his grip, then shift to tuck yourself into his side and curl your legs up in his lap instead.

“Better?”

“Mm-hmm”, he murmurs as he ducks down to nuzzle against your cheek. “You’re warm.”

These nights end the same way each time: you ride the train home with a wine-soaked buzz in your brain and flushed, kiss-bitten lips, your fingertips brushing over your own mouth at the memory of his.

Once a week quickly turns into more. The two of you coordinate laundromat afternoons where you listen to music together as you wait for your clothes. You usually end up drawing to pass the time, and sometimes Jimin dozes off, head tipping over onto your shoulder so gently that you can’t help but smile down at your sketchbook.

At his request, you help him dye his hair pink in his tiny apartment bathroom, and it somehow suits him just as well as honey blonde. You both get dizzy from laughter and cleaning product fumes as you desperately try to scrub the bubblegum stains out of the tile before Hoseok comes home.

When you finally introduce Jimin to your roommates, the four of you crammed all-too formally around the kitchen table over Yoongi’s cooking, the interaction feels like a cross between a job interview and a prom date meeting your parents. You choke on a piece of chicken that you nearly inhale when Namjoon offhandedly refers to Jimin as Subway Boy, and Yoongi smiles wide enough to show his gums as he gladly recounts your months-long crush in great detail while you bury your burning face in your arms.

But Jimin takes it in stride, laughs into your mouth as he kisses you over the sink while the two of you wash the dishes.

“Subway Boy, huh?”

“I will drown you,” you murmur as you pull away, brandishing the spray hose like a threat.

It’s easy and slow. This blossoming something, a nameless but undeniable spark, the calm comfort of Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers intertwined with yours, his head dropped down on your shoulder.

~*~

You dig your phone out of your pocket as you shoulder open the door to the dance building, pulling up the text from Jimin to double-check his practice room number. A train delay made you slightly later than your agreed-upon time, but you know the takeout bag of Indian food dangling over your wrist will easily earn you his forgiveness.

It doesn’t surprise you that he’s the only one left in the room when you find it, nor that he’s still reviewing the choreography with an expression of severe focus. You hover in the doorway, waiting for him to look up, but he’s entirely concentrated on his own reflection in the mirror.

His movements alternate between delicate and powerful, explosive and restrained, and you have to hold in an outright gasp when he launches his body into an aerial and lands it effortlessly. But then his feet falter in a split second of hesitation, and you can see his expression tighten, clearly frustrated.

“Fuck,” he mutters to himself as he rubs a hand over his face, and he doesn’t even try to keep going with the rest of the dance. You take the opportunity to step a few more paces into the room, and his eyes jump to you in the mirror.

“Hi,” you say softly, suddenly a little nervous to be intruding on the moment. The corner of Jimin’s mouth turns up, but his eyes seem far away, and you can tell he’s still raging at himself in his mind.

“Hi, sorry,” he sighs. “I just— can’t get this. It’s like my body isn’t doing what I tell it to.”

“You need food.” You try to say it gently as you cross the room, holding up the smiley-face adorned plastic takeout bag. “And perhaps the enigmatic charm of Rachel McAdams.”

This seems to shake him out of his thoughts, at least a little. “I do like her.” He steps close enough to slip his arms around your waist and pull your body flush against his. Sweat glistens on his collarbone in the dim practice room lighting. “But I like you more.”

You roll your eyes as you playfully smack a hand against his solid chest. “Stop lying.”

“‘M not,” he insists as he presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. “Rachel McAdams has never once brought me masala dosa.” You giggle despite yourself, and when his lips drop down to your neck, it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

A spark ignites in your chest that doesn’t go out, not on the subway ride back to your apartment, not through dinner and a movie, and certainly not once you’re most of the way through the second bottle of wine. As the credits start to roll, you waste no time, turning in Jimin’s lap so you can properly straddle him and take his face in your hands.

You trade decadent, easy kisses, and Jimin’s hands settle at the small of your back, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into your hips. A shiver rolls up your spine when he shifts a little and you realize you can feel a growing bulge through the fabric of his joggers, pressed firm against your thigh. He breathes a soft sound into your mouth as his tongue slides over yours, and you’re so overwhelmed, you barely register the sound of keys in the lock or the front door opening.

It’s Jimin who reacts first, turning his head to break the kiss as his cheeks flood with color, and you glance over your shoulder just in time to see Yoongi storm past, heading for his room. He lifts a hand up to his face to shield you from view as he goes.

“Don’t stop on my account!” Yoongi’s voice is dripping with derision. “By all means, continue fucking on our shared furniture!”

“We’re fully clothed, asshole!” you snap in response as Yoongi slams the bedroom door behind him, hard enough that it rattles in the frame.

When you look back down at Jimin, his face is twisted in an expression you take to be embarrassment. You drop your head down on his shoulder with a frustrated groan, the moment successfully killed.

“Do you…” you pause, turning your head to the side but continuing to ask your question into the fabric of his shirt. “We could go to my room, for more privacy, if you want?”

He hums his agreement, and when you peel yourself off the couch and head for your room, he follows. You spin back around to face him in the doorway, so fast he nearly knocks into you.

You brace your hands on the doorframe as you survey him. “We really don’t have to… do anything, if you don’t want to. We can just talk.”

Jimin nods, and you step aside to let him enter first, pulling the door closed behind you as you follow. He takes a few tentative steps into the room, and you walk past him to drop down onto the floor next to your bed, then pat the carpet to encourage him to join. There’s a flash of something over his face, and then he sinks down beside you. It’s only now that you realize how quiet he’s gotten.

“What is it?” you ask, suddenly a little nervous.

He stares down at the soles of his feet, pressed into each other, his knees tipped open like butterfly wings. “Does it make you feel bad? That we’re not—”

“No,” you answer immediately, and the honesty of it resonates in your chest.

“I know we’ve been hanging out for a while,” he continues, voice low. “And I do want to, you know. Hook up.”

“Jimin,” you lean forward to place both of your hands over one of his, settled atop his knee. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. When you want to, I want to. But I like everything we’ve been doing, too. It’s not like we’re not… intimate.”

His gaze flits up from the floor to meet yours. “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want you.”

You close your fingers around his hand, pulling it off his leg and up to your face so you can brush your lips over his palm.

“I don’t think that at all,” you murmur against his skin. “Promise.”

There’s a hint of a smile in his eyes when you look back up at him. “Okay. Sorry, I know it’s stupid. Like why do I need reassurance from you when I’m the one being difficult?”

You press your cheek into the warmth of his hand, toying lazily with the rings on his fingers. “Why are you so convinced that you’re difficult?”

Jimin huffs a small sigh. “This conversation has not gone this well in the past.” His eyes drop to the floor again, and after a moment’s pause, he keeps talking.

“My ex and I struggled a lot with…” he shakes his head, as if he’s trying not to say ‘everything’. “Sex. With me wanting it, with us having enough of it. I think it gave me a complex. I could be physically, you know, ready, but then as soon as she’d touch me I’d get in my head about everything and freak out and immediately want to stop.” He pauses, worrying at his bottom lip.

You pull his hand into your lap, your fingers delicately tracing over his in an attempt to provide some comfort. He shrugs when he starts to speak again. “And then, I don’t know, I guess she was just trying to share her side, but... she would make me feel so bad about it sometimes. Because I was genuinely trying so hard but it was like I was never good enough.” Another pause, and this time he sniffs a little. When his eyes roll up to stare at the ceiling, you can see he’s holding back tears. “It felt like she didn’t want me anymore, not if there wasn’t sex. So I left.”

“Jimin,” you breathe, and he flashes you a small grimace, clearly embarrassed by his own dramatics. With a grunt of effort, he turns sideways and flops backwards onto the floor of your room, and you scoot closer to him, your hand still playing with his.

His gaze roams over the ceiling as he sighs. “I don’t want you to think I was this perfect person and she was some awful bitch. She loved me a lot, and I’m sure she was struggling with not feeling wanted either, in her own way.”

Your voice is soft when you interject. “Two people can just be… incompatible. It doesn’t mean either of them is a bad person, or that it’s anyone’s fault. Sometimes things just don’t work, no matter how hard you try.”

Jimin’s mouth pulls up on one side as he shakes his head, eyes squinting. “How did you get to be so smart?”

You can’t help but laugh a little, lacing your fingers together with his in your lap. “Years of making terrible decisions.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze before you ask a question. “Did you struggle with this before, or just with her?”

His mouth twists slightly, unsure. “Yes and no? Both? My desire has always… fluctuated, I guess. Been a little shy.” A smile spreads over his face, and he hums a note. “Like, you know how people say love at first sight isn’t a thing? That it’s just lust?” You nod, prompting him to continue. “I think, at least for me, it’s the opposite. I can fall for somebody, and fall hard, like that.” He snaps loudly with his free hand. “But lust… I don’t know, it takes longer. It’s like a slow burn thing.”

You nod again, processing his words for a moment before you respond. “Well, I’m in no rush.”

Jimin sits up, voice thoughtful as he untangles his hand from yours, and it’s clear he’s getting more comfortable opening up to you. “Right after the breakup, I did a lot of research. I found this term, demisexual, that felt pretty accurate.” He shrugs. “But I don’t know. I mostly just think that... I am who I am. And the people who get it will get it. Like you.”

Before you can even speak, he sweeps an arm under your calves to drag you into his lap in one swift move, and you squeak a little in surprise as your world tilts.

“Demisexual. I like it,” you giggle as he guides your legs to wrap around his middle. His hands slide up your thighs, grabbing at your hips to tug you closer so he can trail kisses along your neck.

“Biromantic demisexual, technically,” he murmurs, head tipping up to find your mouth again.

You drape your arms over his shoulders and hum against his lips as he kisses you. “It suits you.”

Another soft noise escapes you when Jimin manages to maneuver to standing with you still in his arms. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and your legs around his waist, and his hands shift down to your ass to firmly hold you up. You squeeze your eyes shut automatically in fear of being dropped, then flutter them open again when you feel your back press into the soft cushion of your bedspread.

Jimin is hovering over you, forearms dropped down to the bed on either side of you. His eyes search yours for a moment, and then he leans in to kiss you again, so fiercely this time that it leaves you breathless. You can’t help but whimper as his tongue slips into your mouth.

When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to your collarbone with a groan. “It’s late,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over your neck. “I should go.”

You nod responsibly, despite how desperately you want him to stay.

You walk him out, and his sweet parting kiss leaves your heart hammering in your chest, enough that you slump against the frame with a sigh once you shut the door, your knees suddenly weak.

Light on your feet, you follow the faint noise of the TV to find Yoongi in the living room with Planet Earth on at a barely audible volume. He glances at you, his mouth a flat line, then reaches for the remote to turn the sound up a few notches. You drop down on the couch next to him, and it’s silent for a moment, save for the calm narration and the crinkling plastic of him tearing open a bag of Turtle Chips.

“How’d it go?” he finally asks, voice monotone.

“It’s good,” you answer softly. “We’re good.” You fold your legs up under yourself and sneak a look at Yoongi out of the corner of your eye. You’re still a little pissed, but you also want advice. Damn him for knowing everything.

“Have you heard the term ‘demisexual’ before?”

Yoongi nods, still chewing as he replies. “Yeah. Like asexual spectrum, right?”

You shrug. “I guess. It’s new to me.”

He shoves a few more chips in his mouth before he continues. “Is that what your Subway Boy is?”

“I think so, yeah.”

There’s a long pause while you watch penguins march across the screen, and you think that might be the end of it. Then Yoongi clears his throat. “You know, I’m somewhere in there too. Not completely asexual, but definitely not… not.”

Your eyes widen. “Really?”

Yoongi snorts. “Don’t act so shocked. These walls aren’t that thick.”

“Is Joon?”

He smirks, like you’ve just told a joke. “Decidedly not.”

“Oh.” You blink, trying to process. “How do you deal with it?”

Yoongi makes a face, like he’s never thought about it before. “We just communicate, I guess. Be respectful even when we don’t necessarily understand. And, like, Namjoon watches porn, and surprisingly reads quite a bit of erotica—”

“Okay, okay,” you cut him off. “I don’t need all the details.”

He huffs a dry laugh at your discomfort. “It’s not always easy, sometimes it’s frustrating for both of us. But we make it work. We love each other.”

You chew a little at the inside of your cheek, and then you can’t hold in the question any longer. “Is it weird that the idea doesn’t bother me? Jimin said it was a huge issue with his ex. Like, does that make me on the… spectrum?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, you might be? But not necessarily? I don’t know, sex matters different amounts to everyone. Some people don’t mind not having it that often. You don’t have to put a label on it unless you want to, you know?”

“Yeah, makes sense.” You nod slowly as you digest the idea. “Thanks, Yoongi. I appreciate the education.”

His only answer at first is a noncommittal hum, and then he points a finger at the few inches of wine in the bottle you left sitting on the coffee table. “Gonna finish that?”

“It’s all yours,” you say. “Consider it atonement for going to first base on the couch.”

Yoongi grabs the bottle by the neck and immediately drains it. “Apology accepted,” he grunts as he sets it back down. “And I’m sorry I snapped at you.” He extends his bag of chips in your direction and you happily reach in for the biggest handful you can manage.

~*~

During your next movie night, Jimin can’t keep his hands to himself.

They pet up your thighs, your legs draped over his, then slide up to your hips, fingertips tracing patterns over the waistband of your leggings and toying at the hem of your shirt.

His mouth has a similar problem: he leans in to press kisses along the line of your jaw, then down the slope of your neck, sucking delicately at the spot that makes your nipples tighten and sends a shiver through you.

“You’re missing the movie,” you remark, raking a hand through his peachy-pink hair, shadowed at the roots where his natural color has started to grow in. He’s typically good about keeping himself restrained until the credits roll, but you’re barely halfway through Pride & Prejudice, haven’t even cracked a second bottle yet.

“Fuck the movie,” he growls against your skin, and you bite back a whimper when his teeth scrape over your neck. You can’t ignore the way your core is starting to ache from his insistent mouth.

His lips find yours again, and you giggle softly into him. “You’re in a mood.”

“Just been thinking about you,” he murmurs between kisses. It surprises you a little when he suddenly pulls back so he can look you in the eyes. “Should we— do you want to go to my room?”

The air hangs still and heavy between you, and you worry at your bottom lip for a moment. “Are you sure?” When he nods, dark brown eyes blinking up at you, your mouth turns up at the corner. “I’d rather we not traumatize any more roommates if we can help it.”

You lean over to pause the movie before sliding off his lap and getting to your feet, and then you reach your hands out for his and pull him up next to you. “Come on.”

Jimin’s bedroom is so perfectly him that it relaxes you, feather-soft comfort every time you step inside. His bed isn’t made, because it never is, the thick white duvet pushed down on one side where he stumbled out from beneath it this morning. He keeps it dark, blackout curtains drawn to support his night owl lifestyle, and the room is bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights he’s strung up along the ceiling. A myriad of posters and art prints and polaroids are taped to the walls, some beautiful, others sentimental— he even managed to coax you into tearing a few of his favorites out of your sketchbook. You still don’t think they’re anything special, but nevertheless, it makes your heart squeeze in your chest to see them on display with everything else. Like they belong here in this room, like you do too.

The door clicks as it shuts behind him, and then his mouth is on yours again, kissing you dizzy while he backs you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. He guides you to lay down, and his hand slips beneath you to drag you up the bed with him as he crawls over you.

His hands come up to tug at your shirt. “Can I take this off?” he breathes.

You nod, staring up at him and not quite able to believe any of this is real. “You can do anything you want to me.” With a smile, he lifts the hem of your shirt, and you sit up a little so he can pull it the rest of the way off.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Jimin murmurs against your skin as he kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, then down between the valley of your breasts. His hands slip down to palm at your tits, squeezing gently, and he mouths at the stiff peaks of your nipples over the thin fabric of your bralette. You untangle briefly, only for as long as it takes to get the lacy thing off of you entirely and tossed over the edge of the bed.

You shiver a little as the air hits your bare skin, and then the warmth of his body covers you again, and he ducks down to close his mouth over your nipple and suck. The plush softness of his lips and the firm suction combined are enough to make your eyes roll back, and your spine arches up beneath him when he drags his tongue in a circle over the sensitive bud.

“Shit,” you groan. Your hands fist in the fabric of his shirt, and it feels like your only tether to reality.

It’s easy to believe it’s the waiting, the anticipation of this moment, that makes every little touch light you up like a live wire now. But something tells you it will always feel like this.

While his lips shift to your other breast, one hand slides down to cup your clothed pussy, rubbing gentle friction into your center. You circle your hips to press yourself against the flat of his palm, sighing at the brush of indirect contact and the heat that thrums through you from the pressure on your clit.

You feel Jimin’s weight shift on the mattress as he kneels next to you, and his lips find yours again at the same time his hand slips into your leggings, two fingers tracing the seam of your panties to make you whine softly. If he couldn’t tell before, he must be able to now: how wet you are, enough to drench the lacy fabric so it clings to your cunt, dripping arousal to show how badly you want him.

He’s surprisingly forceful when he tugs the damp fabric to the side, but so gentle again as he slips one finger and then a second into your tight heat. Your mouth drops open as he curls them up to rub at your g-spot, stroking into you over and over while your cunt squeezes tight around him.

Your head drops back on the pillow and you groan. “Oh, fuck, Jimin.”

You can hear how soaked your pussy is as he pumps into you, and the wet squelch of his fingers working inside you would make you shy if it didn’t feel so overwhelmingly perfect. The pleasure edges your breathing with soft sounds, and Jimin swallows them when he kisses you again.

He shifts slightly for a better angle and then you feel the heel of his palm grind down against your clit. It’s enough to make your hips buck up under him with every press of his hand, his insistent touch shooting sparks of arousal through you.

It’s been so long since anyone has touched you, and you’ve wanted this with him so badly for so long, but even still, it surprises you how quickly he can bring you to the edge.

“Jimin,” you break the kiss to gasp against his mouth, unable to believe how close you already are. Close enough that all you can do is cling, to any part of him you can reach: his hair, his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt. “Jimin, Jimin, fuck.”

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” he groans, and he says the next part softer, like it’s just for him. “My girl looks so pretty on my fingers.”

The pace of his movements doesn’t falter, nor does the heavy weight of his palm as he ducks down to capture your nipple in his mouth again. Your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in to the last knuckle with each thrust of his hand, and your nails dig desperately into his forearm as you feel your orgasm crest.

His teeth graze lightly over the tight bud of your breast, and it’s enough. With a final whine, the arousal that’s been coiling inside you snaps, and your back arches up off the bed as you come hard on his fingers.

Jimin’s fingers keep stroking you through it, the flat of his palm rubbing rough circles against your clit again and again and again and it feels like you might never stop coming. You moan as it rolls over you, wave after wave, until his touch is so overwhelming that you have to pull your trembling thighs together, and he finally relents.

Spent, your body sinks heavy into the bed, and you can’t help the dazed giggle that flutters out as afterglow starts to bloom behind your ribs.

Jimin hovers over you, dropped down onto his forearms, full lips pressing indiscriminately to your flushed skin, all over. You snake a hand through his hair to pull his mouth up to yours, and he kisses you slow and deep.

When you break apart, you tip your forehead to his. “Can I touch you?” you ask, still a little breathless.

“Please,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours again before he pulls away with a small, embarrassed smile. “My pants hurt.”

You sit up on your knees and he does too, and you bite down on your lip as you reach for the hem of his shirt. He helps you pull it over his head, and then there he is, beautiful as ever. Familiar, yet somehow all new.

Jimin shivers and whines when your hands run across the bare skin of his chest, teasing over his soft brown nipples before starting to trace a path down to his stomach. You lean in to kiss him, and he outright groans into your mouth when your fingertips tease along the band of his boxers that peeks out over his jeans. You gently bring your palms to his hips to guide him, and he’s pliant for you, shifting backwards at your suggestion until he’s seated, leaned back against the headboard.

Your hands shake slightly as you unbutton and push down his jeans, and you hear him exhale a ragged sigh of relief. He’s so hard, you can understand why the tight denim must have been painful: his dick is still straining even now, a thick outline pressed into the fabric of his underwear, and there’s a dark patch that clings to his tip where he’s started to leak precum.

You tug his boxers down with enough force that his length smacks heavy against his stomach, and he makes a strangled noise in response, eyes squeezing shut. His hips jerk violently beneath you, and your jaw goes slack as you watch his cock twitch, and keep twitching, until a steady pool of milky gloss has leaked out over his stomach.

“Shit,” Jimin hisses as he comes practically untouched, and he gasps for air to try to speak. “Fuck fuck fuck— ‘msorry, thought I could—”

You can see him starting to spiral, can feel the panic starting to heat up inside his body, so you take his face in both of your hands. “Jimin.”

“This has never happened before— fuck, I don’t— this is so—”

“Jimin.” When you say his name again, firmer this time, he goes quiet, his eyes still shut tight. “Look at me,” you murmur, and he does, lashes slow-blinking open. “It’s okay. Okay?” Your gaze searches his, trying to convince him. “I like everything about you. Everything you do. You’re perfect.”

Clearly trying to steady his breathing, his chest shudders with effort, and you gently circle your thumb at the hinge of his jaw. He makes a soft noise as his eyelids drop shut again, his cheek pressing into your hand, letting you carry a little bit more of his weight.

It’s quiet for a moment, and his voice is unsure when he speaks. “There’s tissues… in the—”

“Can I take care of it?” you interrupt to ask, your voice low. His eyes blink open again to look at you, and a dark glint flickers there as the unsaid meaning of your question washes over him.

“Y-yeah.”

You take your time moving down the bed to settle between Jimin’s thighs, and you stare up at him, waiting for any indication that he wants you to stop or doesn’t feel comfortable. But he just swallows hard, his adam’s apple jerking in his throat, and nods.

Leaning down, you drag your tongue in steady, long strokes over the flat plane of his stomach to lick the mess up.

As you get the last of it, you’re surprised to feel his hand cup the back of your head. You don’t resist when he pulls you up for a kiss, then licks into your mouth to taste himself, the salt and slick of his cum sliding between your tongues.

When you break apart to swallow, Jimin’s voice is a whisper. “That okay?”

You nod, unable to bite back your smile. “You’re… really fucking hot.”

He smirks as he finds your lips again. “So are you.” The next kiss is sweeter, and then he pulls back. “If you want, we can keep— or I can go down— I don’t want—” He can’t finish any of his half-started thoughts, and you smile, lovingly running your palms over his thighs, back and forth.

You want him so badly, more than anything, but you try to breathe through it. You can see the wheels spinning in his head, that self-critical flash in his eyes, the same furrow in his brow that creases when he gets frustrated with himself.

“I’m not saying no because I don’t want you,” you preface. “But I just don’t want you to feel stressed or get in your head about it. I want it to feel good, and I’m in no rush. Next time, okay?”

His lips are still a little pouted, but he nods, and you lean in to sling your arms around his neck. “C’mere.”

You tug him down to the mattress, and your half-naked bodies fit together like puzzle pieces, hands tracing gentle patterns over bare skin as you kiss.

When you eventually end up with your cheek pressed to his chest, you listen to the sound of his heartbeat settling, his breathing evening out. You speak softly in the quiet of his room. “My roommate’s doing an exhibition on Friday. Will you come with me? I’ve been promised there will be free booze.”

Jimin tightens his grip on your waist, his voice slurring like he’s half-asleep. “Mmm, my favorite person and my favorite thing.” There’s a pause, and he sighs. “That sounded bad. Promise I'm not an alcoholic.”

“I know,” you laugh, dragging your lips over his collarbone, then grunting a little noise of frustration as reality starts to set in. “I have class early tomorrow. I should go before I fall asleep here.”

He whines his disapproval, but when you glance up you can see the fight going out of him, his eyelids starting to flutter closed. You lean up for one, two, three more kisses before you force yourself out of bed to find your bra and your shirt. “I’ll see you Friday?”

“Mmkay.” He inhales deep, like he’s coming up for air. “Text me when you make it home safe?”

“I will,” you promise, and you do.

~*~

Namjoon’s exhibition is laughably fancy for what really just ends up being a room full of gay, overdressed art students. The ridiculous finger foods disappear in minutes— all the broke grad school kids came hungry— but you and Jimin gladly hover around the table of champagne flutes instead, giggles sparkling between you like the bubbles that fizz in your glasses.

You’ve been trying to drag him away to actually take in the art, but he keeps necking his drinks. “You’re supposed to sip it, you demon!” you chide with a laugh as he does it again, picking up a fresh glass and throwing all of it back in one gulp.

He smirks slightly as he shakes his head. “It’s more fun this way. Try it.”

You roll your eyes, hiding the grin that threatens to stretch over your face in the rim of your drink before following suit. He’s not wrong: a rush of warmth creeps up your neck as you swallow, the world softening around you, and it’s made sweeter by the kiss Jimin leans in for. When he pulls back you can see his face is flushing, too.

“Come on, Mr. Park,” you murmur, your free hand intertwining with his as you set the empty glass down and retrieve another. “Take me on a tour.”

Jimin grabs another flute too and then you’re off, and he actually manages to drink this one slowly as you weave through the gallery, the click of your footsteps underscoring the gentle classical music that floats through the speakers. You lean into Jimin in comfortable silence as you take in each art piece, sipping delicately at your champagne, occasionally hooking your chin over his shoulder just for the thrill of being close to him.

“These are all beautiful,” he hums appreciatively as you stand in front of a wide, impressionist landscape, swirls of color that shift into shapes when you step far enough away, but dissolve into unidentifiable blobs of thick-textured paint up close. “Namjoon did a really good job curating.”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, but your eyes are on Jimin and everything else pales in comparison. He’s dressed up for the occasion, tight black jeans and a white button-down with a leather jacket thrown on over top. His hair is styled, pretty pink strands pushed back off his forehead, and his asymmetrical silver earrings glimmer in the low lighting. The result is so stunning you’ve had a hard time focusing on anything but him tonight.

A thought that’s been running through your mind all evening resurfaces again as you swallow the last of your glass of champagne.

“They should put you in a gallery.” You didn’t necessarily plan to say the thought out loud, but say it you do. Jimin quirks an eyebrow and you decide to double down. “But not here. Somewhere better.”

“The Met?” he guesses, teasing.

“The Louvre,” you counter, and he outright laughs, his head tipping back.

“The Louvre?!”

“You heard me,” you giggle, your body pressed against his side. “You’re art.”

Releasing your hand, he wraps his free arm around you to pull you into his chest, the smile still lingering over his face. “And you,” he murmurs, “are drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” Your voice is muffled slightly as you speak into his collarbone.

You tilt your head up for a kiss, and it seems to surprise both of you how quickly the atmosphere changes. It might be the more-than-several glasses of champagne to blame, or the fact that you’ve found yourselves in a corner, hidden away from the rest of the exhibition’s patrons, but the soft spark that ignites between you quickly grows into a licking flame at the touch of your lips. It’s heat-blush passion as your mouths move against each other, and you’re trying to keep quiet despite the weight of it, heavy in your core, this shared, unspoken need.

“Jimin,” you breathe into him, overwhelmed by all that he is.

He shifts, nosing at your jawline as he speaks into your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere?”

The suggestion makes you a little unsteady on your feet, your high heels threatening to topple over, and he catches you with a hand to your waist when you falter. “Like, somewhere here?”

“Too far to go all the way home,” he purrs, the hand on your body squeezing gently. “And you look too good.”

Your head swims as he kisses you again, and he pries the empty glass out of your hand, setting it down on the nearest table with his. A hand returns to the small of your back, then slips lower, cupping your ass through the fabric of your black dress. His mouth paints a smile over yours, and you grab his wrist. “Follow me.”

Stumbling your way through the gallery, trading laughs under your breath like confidants and kisses when no one is looking, you lead him back to the coat check closet at the front, thankfully left vacant by whichever freshman had been roped in to the thankless job. With a final glance over your shoulder to make sure you’re unseen, you push the door open and tug Jimin inside after you.

As soon as the coat check door closes again, he has you pressed against it, his tongue slipping hungrily into your mouth. His hands skirt up the curve of your hips as he slots a thigh between your legs, firmly pushing up the hem of your dress to grind into your clothed center.

You both freeze where you are at the sound of a moan, one that very distinctly does not come from either of you.

Jimin tries and fails to suppress a nervous laugh. Unable to make out anything in the dark, you reach your hand out, smacking aimlessly at the wall next to you until you find a lightswitch and flip it on.

“What the fu—” The man who made the noise in question flings a hand over his face at the sudden intrusive wash of fluorescents, but you’d know him from his voice alone. Kim Taehyung still has one hand gripped tight to the metal bar of a coat rack, back arched and legs spread for whoever his latest victim is, with his pants and boxers shoved down to his ankles.

Before your alcohol-soaked brain can put together a smug comment about how Taehyung needs to get his ass eaten at home like a normal human, Jimin’s voice surprises you.

“Hobi?”

You clap a hand over your mouth as you realize the man on his knees, pulling his tongue off Taehyung’s rim with a look of utter confusion, is none other than Jung Hoseok. His eyes are wide as dinner plates as his head snaps up to take the two of you in.

“Jimin?!”

“Oh my god.” You start to laugh so hard your knees buckle, and Jimin has to wrap his arms around you to keep you upright. “How the fuck did you two even meet?!”

“Do we really need to have this discussion now?!” Taehyung growls, and it only makes you laugh harder.

“Come on, come on—” Jimin is collapsing into giggles himself as he fumbles for the handle behind you. He simultaneously attempts to pull you off the door so he can swing it open. “Let’s leave them to it.”

You smack the lights off again as you make your escape, Jimin’s grip still hugging tight around your waist as you laugh until your lungs nearly give out. The lobby is thankfully empty, all the attendees pressed deeper into the gallery, so you loop your arms over his shoulders as you recover and pull his mouth back down to yours, unable to stop yourself.

“Let me take you home,” you manage to say in the space between kisses. Your tongue feels heavy when you speak; his is champagne-sweet. “Joon and Yoongi will be here for a while.”

Jimin’s agreement hums, buzzing on your lips. “Wanna take the train?”

You’re grateful the subway car you stumble into is empty, because the pull of Jimin’s mouth is too magnetic to be ignored. You don’t think you could stop kissing him if you tried.

It’s practically a race back to your apartment once you emerge from the station, partially to get out of the cold night air, though you hardly feel it with Jimin’s jacket slung over your shoulders and your body flushed hot from alcohol and desire. As you climb the four flights to your walk-up, both of you giggling and gripping tight to the banister, the spiral of the stairs sends your world spinning. You feel dizzy-drunk on wine and laughter and lust alike, and maybe something more. Something you don’t have words for yet.

It takes you three tries to get your keys in the door, and when you finally manage to get it open, you kick your shoes off and make a beeline for your bedroom, dragging Jimin along after you, hand-in-hand. Thankfully he has the foresight to remember to shut the door behind you, because all you can think about is him: the rich musk of his cologne, the taste of his tongue, the warm blush of his skin under your palms.

The leather jacket hits the floor and you step over it, walking backwards as he licks into your open mouth, shameless.

You nearly fall over when you bump up against the bed and almost lose your balance, and then you reach for the buttons of his shirt at the same time he goes for your dress. The two of you laugh your frustrations against each other as your arms tangle and get in the way.

“You first!” you insist, and he relents, lets you unbutton the starched white fabric of his button-down so he can shrug out of it. Your fingers move to undo his belt and then he takes over, impressively coordinated enough to be able to kiss you while kicking his jeans the rest of the way off, stripped down now to his black boxer-briefs. He pulls your dress up over your head, and then your barely-clothed bodies press together all the way down, the ache in your core now an undeniable throb.

Jimin takes your face in his hands and kisses you again, and you slip one hand between your hips and his to palm at him, earning an appreciative hiss. You rub at him over the front of his briefs, teasing, then dip your touch beneath his waistband.

His cock hangs heavy between his legs, but he’s not quite hard yet, maybe from the cold, so you take him in your hand and start to pump. For fear of too much dry friction you try to go slow, and he groans into your mouth as you twist your wrist a little to circle your thumb over his frenulum.

He buries his face in your neck, and you can feel the heat of his embarrassment bloom against your skin. “Sorry— gimme a second.”

Tilting your head, you press a kiss to his temple. “Don’t apologize. D’you wanna try laying down?”

When he nods, you release your grip on him so he can sink down onto the bed, crawling backwards up to the pillows. Knelt down on the mattress, you settle in the space he makes for you, thighs spread and knees tipped open, and you push his briefs down enough to free all of him.

You hook your thumb and index finger under the head of his dick to pull it flush against his stomach, allowing you better access to drag your tongue in little kitten licks up his shaft. Your other hand moves to massage gently at his balls as you take his tip into your mouth and let it bulge against your cheek, let him slip against the soft wall there to make saliva pool on your tongue, sloppy on purpose.

It’s still not working, not really, and when your gaze flits up to him again, Jimin’s face is pulled into a grimace. Heat rushes up your neck, and you pull your mouth off him and immediately right yourself. You shift backwards a little on your knees as your pulse starts to race. Does he not want this? Did you misread some sign, or push him too far?

Jimin must be able to read the look in your eyes, because he groans as he presses his face into his hands. “It’s not you. Think I drank too much, I don’t— i-it feels good, I—it just—”

You’re not exactly sober yourself. The receding white noise of panic makes it hard to think, hard to know what to say. “I-it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I just—” he tries again. “I really want to do this, I don’t know why— it’s fucking embarrassing.” The blankets muffle the sound as his palms smack flat against the bed on either side of him in clear frustration. You move out from between his legs, still trying to catch up, and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he pulls his boxer-briefs back over himself.

“Jimin,” you murmur. The bed creaks when you shift to lay next to him, to tuck into his side, and you reach up to run a hand through his hair, a little sticky with the product holding it in place. An anxious, thrumming quiet settles over both of you as his eyes flutter closed.

The words finally come to you in the silence; you can only hope they’ll reach him. “I had so much fun with you tonight. That doesn’t go away.” The crease between his brows softens a little, so you keep talking. “It’s not your only chance, okay? I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here.” Your free hand slips into his on the bed next to you. “And I want you with me.”

He sniffs a little, so quiet you nearly miss it, then turns in towards you. Your noses bump together and your mouth turns up at the corners as you continue. “It’s late, and I… can’t promise there isn’t more ass-eating waiting for you at home. Do you want to sleep here?”

Jimin’s eyes blink open, glassy, and then he nods.

“Come on,” you say softly, sitting up and tugging on your still-joined hands. “How about we shower?”

In the bathroom, you run the water scalding hot, and when you both step in you nudge Jimin forward to stand under it first, then press against him from behind. Your hands wrap around his waist to slide over his stomach as you tilt up to reach his ear when you speak. “This okay?”

He nods, hums a little, and you move your hands up over the whole of his body. Hard lines and soft curves, a work of art you know so well, you can see it when you close your eyes as you map his skin with your fingertips. You nuzzle into the place where his neck and shoulder meet, then press a kiss there. “I’m right here,” you say again, not even sure if he hears you.

But his head turns, and you feel one of his hands slide over yours on his chest. “Will you wash my hair?” he asks softly, and you tip forward to bring your mouth to his, convinced you’d do anything he asked of you.

It’s intimate, the way you take your time running shampoo and then conditioner through his silky pink strands, dragging your nails over his scalp and applying gentle pressure that makes him sigh prettily in response. Jimin steps further under the showerhead both times to rinse the product out, and if a few tears slip down his cheeks, they’re lost to the spray of the water where you can’t tell the difference.

But he does manage the ghost of a smile when you reach to grab your washcloth and he gets there first. “Your turn.”

Once your body and then his are scrubbed and rinsed clean, you shut the water off and grab thick, fluffy towels that you dry off and wrap up in. In the dim light of your room, you pull on an oversized t-shirt and boyshorts, then dig out a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. They’re fairly baggy on you, but they fit Jimin perfectly, and the image of him in something of yours makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest.

You run two glasses under the kitchen tap that you set out to ward off any potential hangovers, and you even manage to find a spare toothbrush for him to use. When he emerges from the bathroom again, still absentmindedly toweling his damp hair, you’re sitting on the bed with your feet tucked under you.

“Do you want to watch something?” you offer gently.

He shakes his head as he stifles a yawn. “‘Mtired. Think I just wanna sleep.”

You pat the bedspread next to you, an invitation. “Then let’s sleep.”

Under the covers, you curl up together, soft and warm from the shower, scented lavender and mint from your body wash and toothpaste. Jimin’s legs tangle with yours, an arm wrapping over your waist, and you press your cheek against the hard plane of his chest with a small sigh.

You listen as his breathing slows, each inhale a little further apart from the last, to the point where you think he’s fallen asleep. You feel yourself start to follow after him, and the last thing you hear before you’re dragged all the way down is Jimin inhaling deep, then mumbling softly into your hair. “Thank you. For everything.”

~*~

Light streams in between the cracks of the window blinds, painting warm shapes over your eyelids that gently wake you. You sigh and stretch as you slowly come all the way up from dreaming, your eyes still heavy-lidded. When you roll over with a soft grunt, you find Jimin fast asleep there, his face smushed into the pillow, one arm slung lazily over you.

The corner of your mouth pulls up, and you have to fight the urge to dot kisses all over his face, deciding to let him sleep instead. It takes some maneuvering, but you manage to roll out from under his arm without waking him and slip quietly out of bed, easing the bedroom door closed behind you.

It’s early, and the apartment is still, washed in morning gleam and the gentle hum of New York City traffic on the streets outside.

You stumble into the kitchen with a stifled yawn, swinging open the fridge and leaning down to retrieve a pack of bacon and the half-empty carton of eggs. Humming quietly to yourself, you dig a pan out and set it on the stove to heat.

Arms slide around your waist, making you jump a little before you melt back as Jimin nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You can feel his body through your t-shirt, still warm from sleep and bedsheets he must’ve only just crawled out from under.

Not quite graceful, you turn in his arms and loop yours around his neck to seek a kiss. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice hoarse on your first spoken words of the day. “How are you feeling?”

Jimin’s mouth is still slurred from waking up when he answers. “‘Mgood. You look good.” His gaze roams down your body and back up, as if to take in your oversized shirt, your bare legs, your hair still messy from sleep. “So cute like this.”

You scrunch your nose slightly as you smile up at him. “Want breakfast?”

A heat starts to pool between your legs as his hands slide further down your back. He pushes your shirt up so he can grip your ass, the thin fabric of your underwear the only thing separating his skin from yours.

“In a bit.”

You can’t help but squeak when, in one swift move, he bends his knees and lifts you off the ground. Impulsively, your legs spread to wrap over his hips, thighs squeezing tight to hold on, and your arms cling around his neck as laughter flutters in your chest. Before you can act on the urge to bury your face in his shoulder, his mouth finds yours again, and the way he kisses you, hungry and deep, makes nothing else in the world matter.

He carries you back to bed, nudging open the door he didn’t quite close all the way with his shoulder, then using a foot to push it shut again. Your muscles unclench when he sits down with you in his lap, and you unwrap your legs from around him, your knees sinking soft into the bed.

You can’t quite shake the thoughts of the night before. “Jimin,” you start, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t—”

“Want to,” his voice is low, ragged edges from sleep. “Doing it ‘cause I want to. I want you. Do you want me?”

You nod, leaning back to look at him, your arms still twined over his neck. “More than anything.”

There’s no rush this time as he shifts backwards up the bed and you crawl over him to settle into his lap again. No tension that’s been building all night, no alcohol buzzing in your systems, no urgency. Just your bodies, half-dressed in sleep clothes, intertwining like they were made to fit together.

Your kisses are sweet and unhurried as Jimin’s hands slip beneath your oversized t-shirt, delicate fingers tracing up your waist. He cups your breasts in his palms, squeezing gently as he licks into your mouth. When he rolls a nipple between his fingers, your breath hitches, sparks of arousal shooting all the way down to your toes. A weight blossoms in your core as you reach for the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, and you shiver a little in the morning air.

“Beautiful,” Jimin says quietly, reverently, and you take his face in your hands.

“You are too,” you murmur, your eyes searching his. “So beautiful.” Your hands slip down his body as he kisses you again, your fingertips outlining the contours of his chest, gently brushing over his nipples to make him groan into your mouth.

Jimin’s hands come to rest at the curve of your hips as your mouths move together, where he teases his touch under the band of your boyshorts. He pulls back just far enough to ask, “Can I take these off?” and you nod.

You shimmy the thin fabric down your thighs, dropping onto your ass with a laugh so he can tug them the rest of the way off, one ankle at a time. As you sit up on your knees again, his hands come to grip your thighs, and he shifts lower on the bed until he’s laying flat on his back next to you.

“Wanna eat you out,” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah?” You bite down on a small smile.

He hums. “Can I— will you please, uh… sit on my face?”

You can’t help but giggle. No one has ever asked so politely. “Yeah, okay.”

It’s slow, languid, the way his full lips close delicately around your clit when you settle over him, how he alternates with lazy passes of his tongue, not unlike the way he kisses you. The pleasure pulls your spine arched and your head tips back, palms pressing flat to the bed beneath you.

“Jimin,” you gasp, “baby, feels so fucking good.”

His tongue is heavy as it drags down your folds, thick when he sinks it into your cunt to taste the slick arousal that pours out of you and drips down his chin. Your hips rock into his mouth, his nose inadvertently bumping against your clit as he licks you like he doesn’t want to waste a drop. Your walls cling tight, crammed up full of him.

With a slurp and a gasp for breath, he withdraws, his tongue made hot from being buried inside of you, trailing wet warmth as he licks back up your pussy to lap at your clit again. Your arms threaten to give out when he sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, lips pulsing an insistent rhythm that makes you moan and writhe above him.

“Jimin, Jimin.” The pleasure is decadent, thick, wine and honey, made sweeter by the beautiful boy pressed between your thighs. Emotion bubbles up inside of you to twist with your pleasure, and you tighten a hand in his rose-blush hair as you moan again, nearly a sob this time, a dam breaking.

Jimin hums against you, fingertips digging into the soft skin of your thighs, like he can tell you’re at the edge without you having to say a word, and it’s enough to send you tumbling over it.

“Oh fuck baby, yes, fuck.” Your toes curl tight over the bedsheets as your pussy flutters, throbs, gushes. Your vision whites out as you come hard enough to make your thighs shake, hard enough that your stomach muscles tremble with the effort of holding you up. Jimin’s mouth works you through it, tongue stroking flat and slow to coax pulse after pulse out of you, until everything melts into shaky aftershocks and your thighs clench around him, over-sensitive.

He pulls back when you start to squirm, lips smacking wetly on a final kiss to your pussy, and heat flushes your face at the sound of it. Your limbs feel heavy as lead as you slip off from on top of him and collapse down onto the mattress with a floaty sigh, your pulse still thudding brightly in your ears.

You’re only distantly aware of the way the bed shifts as Jimin slides down next to you. You follow his touch on instinct, turning into him when he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your hairline. Heartbeat still slamming in your chest, mind hazy with morning orgasm glow, you hum contentedly as your eyes flutter open to find him palming at a thick bulge tenting his– well, your sweatpants.

“Looks like it’s cooperating today.” Jimin’s voice is equal parts relieved and embarrassed.

With a lazy smile, you hook a finger in his waistband, tugging playfully. “What do you want to do about it?”

He laughs hoarsely. “I would love to finally fuck you, if you’ll have me.”

“I don’t want anybody else.” The thought spills out before you can worry if it’s too soon to say it, but he just smiles and leans in to kiss you.

At Jimin’s guidance, you lay back against the pillows, a couple of which he grabs to slot under your hips. “There’s condoms in the nightstand,” you say softly, and anticipation thrums in your chest, twinning with your still-racing pulse as you watch him retrieve one, then step out of his sweatpants to roll it on.

He climbs back onto the bed to hover over you, and your breaths come shallow into each other’s mouths. You kiss quietly at the precipice of this moment, like you’re afraid it might not be real, a dream you could wake up from at any second.

“Thank you.” Jimin’s low voice sends a ripple through you. “For waiting for me.”

You press a hand to his cheek, your eyes trying to take all of him in at once. “It wasn’t waiting, Jimin. Really. I’ve loved every second with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing.”

“I’m so glad I met you,” he murmurs.

The head of his cock teases your entrance, and you spread your thighs wider, pulling your legs up towards your chest. Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you can’t bite back the moan that spills out of you as he sinks into your tight heat with a cock thick enough to split you open. “Fuck, Jimin.”

There’s a pause when he’s pressed all the way in, his body covering yours, your hands clutching at the broad sweep of his back. He exhales a soft, disbelieving laugh as he looks down to see himself buried in you to the hilt. “God, you’re so tight. Does it hurt?”

You shake your head— you’re so soaked from his tongue and your arousal that it all just feels like melting, a pulsating heat between your legs. When he presses another kiss to your lips, he circles his hips, and you both groan at the feeling.

Jimin’s hands grip your thighs as he shifts and starts to move, starts fucking into you with long, slow strokes that make your pussy flutter, as if to urge him in deeper.

“It’s good?” he checks in again, voice tight, clearly holding himself back.

“So good, baby,” you breathe, “please fuck me.” A smirk flashes over his mouth at your manners, so polite when you ask to take it, and then he snaps his hips into you and you keen. “Fuck, please, just like that.”

He does it again and again, hands pressing down on your thighs to keep you folded up under him as he fucks you. The angle is just right for the thick head of his cock to pound into your g-spot with every stroke, and your back arches as your walls grip tight to him.

Jimin echoes your gasps with his own, swearing under his breath as you squeeze around him. He’s thrusting deep-deep now, and your hips shove up towards him for all of it, your thighs trembling as you take every inch. You’re dripping down his length every time he pulls back, wet enough to soak the sheets beneath you.

The pleasure, the pressure as he fills you up is so overwhelming that your hands reach, clinging to anything they can find. A pillow, the bedsheets, the flexing muscles in his forearms. Your moans come unabashedly now, underscored by the slap of skin on skin, the thud of the bedframe knocking into the wall. “Jimin, Jimin, baby.”

“Yeah,” he pants, choked up like he’s close. “Love it when you say my name.”

You sit up a little, folded legs shifting to wrap over his hips, and your hands come to his face to pull his mouth down to yours. His movements stutter as you kiss him breathlessly, and the brush of your tongue over his must be just enough to make him come undone. With a grunt of effort, he thrusts hard into you one final time, and his shoulders shake as he fills up the condom.

You kiss him again and again, your lips pulled into a smile against his as you tangle a hand in his hair, made messy from sleep and sex. Jimin’s body weighs heavy on top of yours as he drops his head to your shoulder, breath coming in short heat-bursts over your collarbone.

“Fuck. Been a minute.” He presses a kiss there, another to your neck, a third to your jaw. “Do you want to keep going?”

Your eyes widen at the question. “I— can you?”

A soft flush paints color in his cheeks, and he’s suddenly a little shy. “Yeah, I can. If you want. Or we can stop.”

You wrap your arms over his shoulders, your noses bumping. “I kinda felt like I was getting close again.”

He smiles. “Then let me finish what I started.” There’s a bit of shuffling as he moves to the edge of the bed to remove and tie up the used condom, then reaches for the box to retrieve another.

As he tears open the foil and rolls it on, you watch and consider all of him. This body that you know from every angle, that you’ve studied like a textbook, that holds the boy who stepped onto the subway and changed your life and made it better. This body, made to be adored, to be respected and cherished and filled up with love. This body, chosen to be shared with you, to be held by you, to be near you.

That’s all you want, you realize as he rolls over, brown eyes blinking sweetly at you. This body, and all that it holds: the darkness and the light, the pain and the beauty, the soul that so perfectly fits with yours.

“Turn over for me?” he asks softly. “I want to spoon.”

This round is easier, slower, your bodies molding together, shaky from effort and sensitivity. You twist over your shoulder, tipping your head up for a kiss that turns into a shared gasp as he presses into you again. Your walls are swollen enough to be tender, and the stretch of him, the way he fills you up entirely, makes your eyes roll back.

As he starts to grind his hips into you, his hand snakes down between your thighs before you even have to ask. You hook a leg over his to allow him better access and gasp when his cock slides even deeper into you from the new angle.

“So good,” you manage as two of his fingers work circles into your clit, matching the same slow-stroke pace. His tongue slips into your mouth, and with his cock rubbing insistently against your front wall, it doesn’t take much. Pleasure overwhelms you in a hot rush as he so easily pulls you apart again.

“Jimin.” Your voice is nearly a whisper, your walls starting to pulse. Your head tips back against his shoulder as he fucks and rubs you through it, his hums of encouragement buzzing through your body, your hips shuddering. “Baby, oh god.”

Jimin’s strokes start to falter, and then he goes still, your cunt aftershock-fluttering around him as he comes again, groaning your name.

A brush of daylight through the blinds makes your eyes heavy, and they drop closed as you lean into him and breathe through the comedown. You don’t know how long you lay there like that until his kisses pull you back earthside, dotting over your forehead, cheeks, nose, jaw. You tilt your head up and he finally finds your lips again.

With a deep grunt of post-sex effort, he rolls over, leaning off the edge of the bed to deal with the second condom. A shiver dots up your spine at the loss of his body next to yours, and you tuck into his side when he lays down again, throwing an arm over his chest to better nuzzle into the crook of his neck. The heat of his palm makes you sigh as his hand rubs gentle circles against your back.

Something cracks open inside of you, warm like his touch, like the sunlight bleeding through the window. You can feel the rapid pace of his heartbeat under your hand, and it’s everything, all of him, that makes the words rise up in your throat, undeniable.

“Jimin,” you breathe, “I l—”

A loud bang on your bedroom door makes you flinch, and you roll over with a grimace as Yoongi shouts from the other side. “If you’re finished, just so you know, you left a fucking pan on the stove. Could’ve burnt the house down while you were in there deflowering each other.”

Your jaw drops open and Jimin’s eyes go wide, and you collapse against each other in a silent rush of laughter. You’re surprised when Yoongi’s voice comes back, a little softer this time. “Also I brought some bagels back from work. If you want any, better hurry before Namjoonie eats them all.”

The charged moment has passed, and the words sink back down inside of you. Making a promise to tell him soon, you wrap yourself tighter around Jimin’s side with a smile. “What do you think?”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’ll never say no to a bagel.”

“Come on then,” you murmur, tilting up for a final hit of affection. The kiss he leaves on your lips makes your heartbeat flutter, like the shudder of a subway car.

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

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thedivineart · 1 year

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Confirmation Signs To Determine Your Future Spouse

ꕀ ׅ࣪ ꒰ ✮ ꒱ links : navigation. send love.

pacs. paid services.

one

wishing well, a fountain, throwing coin and wishing in fountain, unexpected meeting, receiving the most special gift from someone, a lost purse/wallet, climbing alone in mountain to reduce stress/ hangout, being alone without feeling lonely, a dog coming towards you, small home in forest, cross roads, being happy in other people relationship, going to building/institutions to fix legal documents, a friends to lovers trope, visioning your past life, a gallantry from someone, aiming financial achievement, lucky money wins, a nest eggs, flames, mutual feelings with someone, being flirt, co-worker, a new friend, ships, a little home/cottage, new house/places, moving to a new place, soulmate connection, meeting perfect person/ ideal lover, seeing lots of abiding love, wedding, wedding rings, hurt/painful feeling, hospital/doctor, unrequited love

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two

changing location whether it is for work or residency, when you heal from the past, starting a new, stork, a invitation for a event, gifts ( receive or give ), helpful advice from someone, receiving lots of good news, a clock/time, your hate and fear towards someone, a handshake, a journey ( travel ), birds, sharing ( partnership), food, restaurant/ fast-food places, notice of correspondence from important bills, writer/ journalist, financial loans/help, being at your lowest point such as feeling trapped/tired/staying at home/unhealthy situation, a friend betrayal, older than you, foreign, lawyer/authority, being attack, an enemy, invitation in weddings or engagements, church, cemetery, thinking negative/ having negative thoughts, a large body of water such as beaches, pools, fountains etc, night, cold weather/winter, locks, fishes, physical union with someone, a mending of broken friendship/ex love, party, clubs

⋆ feel free to ask questions you didn't understand in this reading

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three

younger, foreign / leader, bad girl & boy image/personality, unexpected kiss, feeling lonely, a new lover/person, family oriented, lady and moody, soulmates connection, unexpected friendship with someone, horse/sagittarius, a good news coming, an artist/poet, student of arts, athletic body or an athlete, lack of focus in commitment, receive or give gifts, fountains, generous, wears uniform that symbolize their position at work, a friend, co-worker, a peer, taking time to heal the wounds of the past, in park, in forest, walking around and meeting someone new, having time alone, wandering in woods, in the big trees, travel, achievement, lucky breaks, successful moving up ( at work or something), the space, distance, someone is far away, delay, receiving love letters and bouquet of flowers, country side, simple life, money surrounds them, professional person, workaholic and less focus on love, a bank; good at handling finances, provides good advice in finance, a happy family, fire/burning, summer, evening, warm weather country, good judgement, social

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four

authority, can be foreign, arrogant, weddings, older, negative emotions, large body of water such as beaches, pool, fountains, lake, pond etc, night, cold weather/winter, a dog, a friend, a church, a purse, money, financially stable/ wealthy, office, jewelry box, a social butterfly, enjoy clubs and socializing, likes to be busy and active, wine, travel, trips via water, clouds, heavy rains, good partner, sensual, good at financial advice, an expensive wedding of a friend, children, financially secure, fixing cars, lily, workaholic, trying their best at difficult situation, lion, a Leo sign, quite, electric, jealous and possessive, like to give great advice, streets of gold

⋆ feel free to ask questions you didn't understand in this reading

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word-wytch · 6 months

Text

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 15

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 15/? 10k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ The aftermath of a kiss makes thoughts come alive — both desires and fears.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

✏︎ Chapter CW: smut 18+ (imagined oral f!receiving, piv, creampie), cumming in pants, angst

Wednesday, December 11th 1985

The flag was whipping in the wind. Towering above the parking lot in a blur of red, white, and blue, it cracked against the pale grey sky.

Meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror, you checked for any obvious signs of guilt. The harsh morning light made it clear what you’d missed in your haste to leave. You thought you had gotten it all, but the mascara resting in the lines beneath your eyes said otherwise. Truthfully, washing your face had been the last thing on your mind when you stumbled home after midnight, and it was clear you needed more than the five minutes you allotted this morning in front of the sink. After sleeping through your alarm, it was a miracle you were here at all. Swiping your knuckles across the bags under your eyes, you figured that would have to do.

With a final, bracing sigh, you opened the door and slumped into the freezing cold. Slamming the door, you marched across the snow-dusted pavement and hiked the heavy leather strap onto your shoulder. Students scattered around you with bright colored backpacks, rushing from their cars toward the squat, concrete building that loomed on the horizon. Eyes steeled on the glass doors ahead, you swallowed a sickness rising up from the pit of your stomach. Pebbles crunched under your boots as you dodged glances, offering little more than a timid smile and a raise of your hand at the greetings hurled your way.

Pulling open the chilled metal handle, that school smell—indescribable yet unmistakable—gusted hotly over your numb cheeks. The office was abuzz with shrill ringing phones and gently chiding voices. Eyes glued to the long, grey weather mat below, you approached the clock-in station.

“Good morning!” the receptionist greeted cheerfully at the back of your head.

“Morning, Judy,” you offered weakly, selecting your punch card from its wooden slot on the wall. With a shaking hand, you slotted the index card into the machine, lining it up with this week’s row of black-inked numbers. It snapped to life, stamping today’s date in a crooked line beneath the rest.

Tucking your thumb under the strap, you trudged along your usual path, raising your eyes just enough to see where you were going. Fluorescents danced over the polished tile, over the shimmering salt-stained boot marks and stray pebbles you were suddenly so captivated by. Past the glass trophy cases, inside the cafeteria, you crossed the row of principal portraits from years prior outside the teachers lounge. It was difficult to look at them today, the judgement painted so clearly on their features from inside their thick, ornate frames. Their eyes seemed to follow you as you passed. Dodging their scorn, you ducked inside the door.

Your soles met the padding of the threadbare carpet, marching toward the one thing you truly depended on, stationed at its post on the end of the long, veneer table — the coffee machine. The room was spinning with activity, a bustle of chatter you hoped you could hide in. Most were on their way out, making small talk and gathering belongings from their seats at the round tables. Your skirt swished forward as you halted before the machine, tapping the cuff of your tall boots. Grabbing a mug from the stack, you filled it with haste.

You wondered if anyone could smell it on you — the cigarette smoke that clung to your coat. Shrinking down into your turtleneck, you sidestepped to return the pot to the warmer.

“Good morning,” stated a voice behind you with cold professionalism.

The plastic slipped in your hand, coffee hissing against the metal plate as you fumbled it into place. “Principal Higgins! H-hi—good morning!”

She always terrified you, even as a student here. Even before last night. Standing all of about four foot ten, her stern, nun-like demeanor and white cloud of hair remained consistent with your memory, as if she had reached a point in her aging where she just plateaued.

“How are you?” she asked. Not as though she really cared, just as something polite to say.

Whipping around as the blood drained from your face, you addressed her. “Good! I’m good. Just getting things wrapped up for the semester. You know how it is.”

She nodded curtly. “Glad to hear,” she answered, though nothing about her expression seemed glad. It never did. You thought you saw her smile once in September, but it could have been a trick of the light. Smiling weakly at the floor, you dipped around her and shuffled toward the open milk carton. The air was thick and stuffy, filling your lungs in shallow draws. Peeling back the soggy cardboard, you swallowed your hammering pulse.

“Hey stranger,” Diane greeted warmly, grabbing a mug from beside you. “You ready for winter break yet?”

Fixed on the coffee as the milk swirled like smoke, you couldn’t find the courage to meet her eyes. “I’ve been ready since October,” you admitted through a strained chuckle.

Diane tipped her head back, laughing into the fluorescents. “Oh man I feel ya, I’ve been counting down the days myself.” Steam rose from her mug as she filled it.

There must have been a sign on your back. Something like kick me. A bump from behind had you lurching into the table, sloshing coffee over the rim. Snapping your head over your shoulder, you glared at the culprit.

“Jeez it’s crowded in here,” muttered Ms. O’Donnell as she lumbered over to the coffee machine. “Everyone mingling like a flock of hens, you’d think we’d all have places to be by now.”

With a sharp sigh, you grabbed a handful of flimsy napkins from beside the sugar. Diane glanced in brief annoyance before reaching through your line of sight for the milk carton. “So, did you catch Cheers last night?”

You froze, heat creeping up the collar of your coat as the coffee bled through the paper. Images of sweating glasses on cocktail napkins and plush lips clouded your vision as you blotted up the mess with a trembling hand. “No I uh, turned in early I’m afraid.” Your stomach curdled with the lie.

“Aww, well you’ll have to catch it on re-run because it was a good one. I won’t spoil anything,” Diane said, bringing the mug to her lips as she leaned against the table.

Grabbing the handful of warm, soggy napkins, you pivoted to toss them in the trash. Finally, she caught you with her eyes. Rich umber, deep with caring and kindness, captive for anyone who needed a good listener, for you on so many occasions. Diane was good like a cashmere cardigan, like a box of tissues passed across a desk. Your eyes met the floor again quickly, heat rising in your face. You shuddered to imagine what she’d think if she knew.

The room became a blur of scooting chairs, of vending machines whirring, of crackers and candy dropping into the bins below. Metal flaps whined and slammed as hands reached in to grab them. It was closing in on you — the copy machine ink wafting warmly across the room as it spat out stacks of tests, the hole punchers clicking and binders snapping open to devour papers with their jagged maws. You stood there in the middle of it all, spinning like you’d stepped out of a carnival ride.

Diane leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “You ok?”

Blinking rapidly, you snapped back to attention. “Yeah—yeah I’m fine.”

Folding her arms across her sweater, she knit her brows in disbelief. As the school counselor, it was her job to see through bullshit, and she was good at her job. Before she could comment, the bell had your stomach lurching. “I have to go,” you said with as much of a casual farce as you could muster. “I’ll see you later.” You grabbed your mug, shielding your face with it as you sipped off the top before vanishing into the hallway.

The AV cart was heavy despite its wheels. Avoiding your tired reflection in the glass of the large television, you braced the metal frame and peered around it, marching carefully down the crowded hallway. At least you had something to hide behind now.

There were footsteps all around you, weaving to accommodate the metal mass as you trudged slowly forward. What became unignorable was the set behind you, shuffling down the hall at an increasing speed, growing louder as they neared. Eddie halted just behind your shoulder, bumping it slightly in his haste. “Hey,” he breathed in your ear, curls tickling your cheek.

Sucking in a breath, you whipped your head around to meet his crinkling eyes. If he had a tail, he would be wagging it. “Eddie,” you hissed. “Get—” you elbowed him away, heart pounding into your temples as a hundred eyes passed by around you.

He didn’t seem phased. Hovering at an uncomfortable proximity, his focus stayed glued to you as if the rest of the world had fallen away. “Here,” he offered, reaching over to take the reins. The meat of his palms grazed your knuckles; warm and pliant like you remembered them.

“I’ve got it,” you insisted, gaze dutifully forward, gripping the metal frame firmly.

“Come on, let me help,” he muttered, leather forearms insisting against yours as he tugged the cart in his direction.

Face fully on fire now, you released your grip, repelling with a twinge of remorse from the solid contact of his shoulder. Head darting left and right, you scouted for faculty, keeping a steady pace beside him. Not so close as to draw suspicion, but close enough to feel his magnetism prickle your awareness. His fingers pinked under his rings, knuckles white in his grip as the strong angles of his hands kept the cart from veering. “It’s um—” Eddie started, dipping his head toward your ear again, “good to see you again,” he uttered with a fervency that could have evaporated you.

“Happy Wednesday!” chimed Ms. Click as she waved you down from outside her door.

The blood drained from your face. Raising a trembling hand, you returned a weak smile before locking your vision on the end of the hall. It was closing in again; the lockers, the voices, the squeaking of wet boots against the tile. There was the potent scent of cigarettes, fresh on his hair like the snowflakes that clung to his curls. They were melting, dripping down his wild ringlets onto his shoulders with every step. It was beautiful, the way they bounced and swayed in the wind as he walked. The way the droplets settled in the wrinkles of his leather coat. The way it tapered toward his narrow waist. As he braced the cart, you selfishly admired the angles of his shoulders — broad and capable. Selfishly, you wondered what else they could accomplish, how they would feel, bare under your palms. Crossing your arms coyly over your turtleneck, you snatched your mind from the gutter.

Eddie lolled his head toward you, peering under heavy lids. His smile was lazy and generous, brimming with boyish glee. “God you look pretty today,” he sighed. Your uterus beat your stomach to a backflip.

Halting outside the door to your classroom, you turned to face him. “Eddie, we can’t—” your desert mouth hung open as those soft umber eyes ushered your words into the din.

“I’m allowed to talk to you,” he asserted, shifting to the fullness of his height as he dropped his hands from the cart.

“Not like that. Not here,” you corrected, just above a whisper.

Brow lowering, he swiped his coat aside to access his hip, resting his hand above the chain that dripped toward his thigh. It was suffocating — the heat from his gaze, from your turtleneck, from the thoughts hammering like pinballs against the inside of your skull.

“Listen, I just…” you swallowed, “it’s just—” you glanced around, meeting the waves and bright hellos that passed through your door with a vacant smile before lowering your voice, “—hard to be back here today.”

Eddie tipped his head forward, shifting on the balls of his feet with a subtle nod. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

You huffed through your nose, eyes pleading with him as you shrank toward your door.

“I’ll see you later,” he promised, drifting in by an invisible tether with every inch you moved away.

“Yeah.” Your exhale was heavy, lingering in his gaze for an aching second before ducking through the threshold.

______

The static from the television prickled your forehead as you rewound the tape, fussing with the buttons on the VHS player seated on the shelf below it. The screen fizzled grey as as your fourth period class filed in, shuffling feet and relieved exclamations echoing behind you as they passed.

You could have left it alone and walked away, but you would take any excuse not to face them today. Leaning against the cart as you stared into the crackling static, that telltale scent wafted in on the air, tugging at memories of smoke rings and stage lights, filling you with equal parts dread and aching familiarity. You could see his silhouette out of the corner of your eye; tall and dark with a halo of frizz, boots heavy against the tile as he approached you. Swallowing your rising pulse, you couldn’t help but indulge for a second, shifting just enough to catch the soft pink of his smirk before his shoulder nudged yours in passing. Desks squeaked against the floor behind you, yielding to the weight of twenty students as they filled the five tidy rows. When the bell finally rang, you shut the door and mustered the courage to address them.

None of your classes were studying To Kill A Mockingbird. Irrelevant as it was to your lessons, you would excuse it to all of them by citing it as a great example of storytelling. Weak, but it was the best you could come up with on such short notice. You doubted anyone cared, they all seemed just as relieved as you were for a break from the fluorescents.

You flicked off the lights and pressed play on the VCR. The room was bathed in white and blue as the opening credits rolled, and you took your place behind the big desk. Propping your head wearily against your hand, you stared down at the sea of white below you. Eyes unfocused, black ink and graphite chicken scratch blurred together as a different film played out behind them.

The set was dramatically lit; a spotlight of interrogation that beamed down on your small chair facing Martha Higgins’ desk. The props were hyper-realistic; files she flipped through with her spindly, arthritic fingers containing your teaching license and contract for the year. The prominent lines on her forehead were growing increasingly severe as she considered the delivery of your inevitable punishment.

A jungle of items framed the papers that sprawled across your real desk — the spider plant Susan had given you when the leaves were beginning to blush with oranges and reds, the stapler you’d had since college, the mug with a quill printed on it which now held your pens. You wondered what it would feel like to pack them all into a banker box in the middle of a winter afternoon. To lug it down the hallway, dodging the scorn of your former colleagues. With a heavy sigh, you buried your spinning head in your hand.

Eddie was seated as he always was, cheek pressed to his knuckles as he watched you from his corner of the room. A straight shot toward your desk in front of him, he gazed with reverence as the white light from the television bathed your one exposed cheekbone in a holy glow. Picking at the chipped veneer on the desk with his restless thumb, he recounted the feeling of it in his hands. The angle of your jaw, the notch where it met below your ear, the soft skin of your throat that hummed beneath the pads of his frozen digits, warming them to life with every swell and swallow as his mouth enveloped yours. He’d played it over and over the whole drive home, every moment since he’d opened his eyes this morning, convincing himself with every replay that it wasn’t a dream.

He’d gotten a taste. Not enough to satisfy him — the opposite really. Like first bites often did, it only brought awareness to his hunger. The light played softly on your stiffened jaw. How he ached soothe it with his lips again, to feel the hard bone under supple skin, to hear and taste your sighs again; more moving than any music he’d ever heard.

The darkness gave quiet permission for his mind to play a film of its own. In this one, the room would be the same. Just as dark but empty, save for you and him. He would scale the isle in five swift steps. Lifting your worried chin with his knuckle, he would draw you to the fullness of your height, capture your body in his arms and pull you into a searing kiss. He knew what it felt like now, and that only fueled his wild imagination. He knew you’d melt like putty, let him be the only thing holding you together, keeping you from falling to the floor with the strength of his arms around your soft cotton waist.

He had memorized the shape of your lips, how slick with hunger they were as they slipped against his. Your hums would be quiet here, timid and shy as you glanced over his shoulder toward the door with worried eyes. On this set there were no real hallways, no extras making noise or slamming lockers. Nothing in the script suggesting an interruption, only the pretend risk that made a thrill rise in him like the tent in his jeans. The way you would shyly toy with the pins on his vest, insisting that “we shouldn’t,” and “it’s just not right.”

You wouldn’t protest for long, not in this script. Not when his teeth found your neck again, dipping down below the collar of your turtleneck. It was a nuisance really, nothing but a sponge for his spit as his tongue soothed over where his teeth left off. You would be needing it later because he would leave a mark this time. Several, tasting every moan you offered as he sucked bruises onto your delicate skin. He hadn’t tasted nearly enough of you, hadn’t felt nearly as much as he’d wanted.

Closing his eyes, he surfaced a touch-memory; the shape of you beneath your coat. He imagined the slope of your waist in his hands as it looked like today; where the cotton met the wool of your skirt, heaving against his palms as he left his sloppy trail. Impatiently, he would free you from the confines of it, tug at the cotton and greet your warm, soft flesh with his aching fingers. You, of course, would give him full permission to remove it once you felt the insistence of his touch, felt his thumb drag over the small of your back, across that dip he caught a glance of last night.

Tugging the cloying barrier up and over your head, he would shield you from the door with his body, letting the mass of the AV cart block any eyes wandering the hall from what he was about to do next. In the soft, flickering light from the television, your chest would rise and fall, spilling over from your white lace bra as it heaved in anticipation.

The real you sank deeper into your chair. Shoulders slumped, shielding your eyes with your knuckles as you stared blankly down into the sea of papers. There was a heat emanating from the back corner of the room, one you could feel with the crown of your head. You knew exactly where it was coming from, and from whom. Hesitant as you were to address him, it was burning too hot to ignore, boring into you with a palpable insistence. With a swift, upward glance, you faced off.

Eddie’s lids were heavy, cheeks pinking at the sudden confrontation. He licked his lips, eyes darkening as he swallowed. You could almost feel them again, cradling yours in a phantom kiss just like they did fourteen hours ago. His mouth had been so needy. So hot and plush, tongue slipping against yours like he’d been starving.

Eddie closed his eyes in a slow blink. When he opened them again, they were so heavy with want that it rippled from across the room, shooting straight between your legs. You’d never been kissed like that before. Kissed so hard it robbed you of your senses, of your oxygen, of your goodness. It was easy to imagine; doing it again. Especially when he was looking at you like that.

You indulged for just a moment, joined him in the scene. Alone together in the dark, empty room. It was easy to imagine what those lips would feel like going further; sucking your collar bone, grazing it with his teeth, trailing his sopping mouth to the place where your neck meets your shoulder before his calloused thumb slipped the strap of your bra to the side.

Wringing a hand behind your neck, you glanced toward the television with a sudden feigned interest. The feeling wouldn’t leave you though; clouding your mind with wet smacking lips and the chill of the air at your nipples.

He knew they would be perfect. He could just tell. They would heave beneath his watering mouth, puckered and primed for him to latch. Capturing one of them in his wet heat, you would melt into his waiting arms. Back arched, mewling so needy and loud it would cause the door to open if the scene was real. He was certain he’d be able to taste your hums through your skin here too. Even better perhaps.

Eddie shifted in his seat with a mild grimace, hand darting beneath his desk in time with a swift raise of his hips as chair legs scraped the tile. He glanced at his lap, then back up at you.

Your face became a roaring furnace, paling only to the heat pooling under you. The pale television light flickered across his flushed cheeks, his lowered brow, his smoldering eyes that held you captive. He wanted you to know. Indulging, you imagined what was going on under that desk. What it would look like if he were to stand, to scale the room in a few eager strides and show you up close.

“Need you now, Eddie,” you’d croon with a swipe of your hand up the generous bulge he was sporting, punctuating it with a pinch of his weeping head through the denim.

Eddie took his cue. In one dramatic swoop, the papers fluttered to the floor, the plant made a mess of the tile, the stapler clattered beside your shattered mug as pens rolled down the isles. Backing you into the edge of the big desk, he kissed you again. Hot and slick, body flush with yours, pressing his need against your pelvis as he probed your aching mouth. Parting only to shed himself of his outer layer, to lay it down behind you like a blanket, shielding your bare back from the cold wood.

From the confines of his small desk across the room, real Eddie took a deep breath, lids closing heavy on the inhale, fluttering open to a pained pout on the exhale.

Seating yourself on the edge of your desk on set, you would free him from the confines of his jeans. Pawing at his belt, you would tuck your fingers beneath it and tug urgently, rattling metal and leather before working his button free. Slowly, your nimble fingers would locate and lower his zipper, and a sigh would be the second thing that escaped.

You were an A-list actress, looking down at his proud length like you’d never seen a dick before in your whole life. The coyness with which you peered from under your lashes was thoroughly convincing. Oscar-worthy. With a timid, chalk-dusted finger, you would draw a line from base to tip, admiring the way it bobbed, the way your touch encouraged it to glisten. Real Eddie swallowed, drawing a deep, impatient breath. Convincing as you were of your innocence, he was certain those fingers would know what they were doing as they traced his ridges with a teasing curiosity.

Unable to take any more of it, his hands would find your knees; bare where the stockings left off. They would roam under your thick wool skirt, up those impossibly soft thighs and draw back the curtain as you braced yourself against the desk behind you. In this scene, of course, your costume called for nothing underneath. You would be ready for him. Back flush with his coat, legs spread, glistening with need in the pale light from the television behind him.

Impatient as he was, he would be remiss not take this opportunity to satisfy a curiosity of his own. Crouching down to level with your sex, he would take in your scent first. Breathe in your delicious, heady pheromones, let it cloud his vision further, as if there was room for anything else other than the persistent thought of you. Eddie wondered what you tasted like. Your mouth was exquisite, so what must you taste like here? With a generous swipe of his tongue, he would find the answer.

The real you crossed your legs tightly, as if that would stave off the throbbing between them. Real Eddie caught it, the shift in your seat, the subtle raise of your knee under your plaid skirt, the way you worried your lip with your teeth as you glanced shyly toward the papers still, unfortunately, on your desk.

What might his tongue feel like there? The question grappled for your attention despite futile attempts to shove it away. His tongue had a certain talent, you’d noticed, as it probed against yours in the dark last night. A sense of rhythm was a hard thing to teach. His tongue would be warm, you were certain of that, saliva slick as he pressed it flatly to your heat. He would take his time, savoring every groove and fold across this new terrain as if he were committing it to memory. Propping up on your elbows against the satin liner of his coat, you would catch those deep brown eyes, peering into yours with a smoldering hunger, lower lids pinching in pleasure as he drew slowly upward.

You would paw at the crown of his head, rake your fingers through his curls and tug, feeling his approving hum against your core. Halo of frizz tickling your thighs, his tongue would lathe slow and steady, closing those plush lips over your aching bud before sucking a kiss where you needed it most.

Exhaling deeply, you toyed with a pen on your desk; pressed your thumb into the cold metal nub, studied the tension a moment before releasing. Eyes unfocused, you were helpless as the film played out behind them. Click. Click. Click. Light flickered from the TV, twenty eyes distracted and oblivious. Throbbing, you shifted in your seat and caught the scent of your own arousal. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks. Never in your life had you been so grateful to be in the dark.

Try as you might to gleam a single chaste thought from the words printed below you, there was no space in your head for it. Just Eddie, crouched over you like a preying animal, looking at you with those lust-blown eyes like he’d make you his meal. Wrapping those ringed fingers around your hips, shifting his to meet them as he stood. You could almost feel it; his cockhead pressing with insistence at your entrance. Almost feel the safety of his shadow, how his curls would kiss his cheekbones as he hovered above you, how his lids would flutter as he pushed in. That deep, relieved sigh you would both breathe together as the long ache was soothed upon joining.

It was a moving picture.

From the back of the room, Eddie watched your face burrow into your hand; fingers splayed across your forehead and eyes, shoulders slumping on your ragged exhale. How desperately he itched to ease them with his hands, his teeth, his tongue. It was painful; his cock straining against the confines of his jeans. Silently, he thanked himself for grabbing the black pair from the pile on the chair in his bedroom this morning, certain he was leaking through by now.

Slowly, he shifted his hips upward, relishing in the drag of the fabric against his sensitive head as it moved toward his waistband. He paused before tucking it, arching forward again with sinful fulfillment. It felt good. Too good. Good enough to do it again. The way the cotton raked against the heart-ridge of his cock, the way the stiff bend in his zipper hit that sweet spot when his hips canted forward.

Eddie glanced around the room, flushing furiously. All eyes were forward. No one seemed to notice. Gripping the edge of the desk, he continued to rock his hips; slow and quiet micro-movements, careful not to creak the plastic chair. The shrinking, logical part of his brain couldn’t believe he was doing this. It was a new low. Perverted, even for him. But the tension was mounting, becoming unbearable, and the relief it offered was enough to drown out the shame.

He bet you would be so tight. He could almost feel those gorgeous legs wrap around his waist, your boots crossing at the ankles behind him, drawing him closer as you whined from the stretch. He could almost see you bite your lip and knit your brows, feel your fingers dig into his strong shoulders as you adjusted to his size. He would go slow, knowing it’s been a while for you. You would clench and arch but take him so well as he inched his way to the hilt. Then, bracing against the wood, he would happily give you what you needed — jack hammer hard, rutting like an animal in heat. You would be sinfully wet. He bet you were right now, sitting up there with your legs crossed and head down. Pity it would go to waste. If he had it his way it would be dripping onto the desk, slicking his balls as those pretty, perfect tits of yours bounced with every snap of his hips.

The fabric was hitting him just right, scratching that itch with each flex of his cock against the dampened cotton. It was a slow mount, subtle and teasing, but it was enough. Anything would have been enough. A breeze. Eyes closed, forehead hung on the heel of his hand in feigned boredom, he imagined it what you would feel like under his thumb; rubbing that little button of yours that made you squirm and moan so deeply he could feel it from the inside.

The hardest part was steadying his breath. He supposed he couldn’t fault his body, it was just doing what was natural in a place he shouldn’t be doing it. He couldn’t fault his heart for hammering, or his hips from wanting to buck, or his hands for itching to expedite the relief. What he would give to crank the volume on the television, to draw a curtain and just get it over with. God forbid you wisened up to his antics, although the thought did send a jolt to his dick. He knew he should stop before he did something utterly shameful, but the spot he was hitting was just too sweet, a feeling he was helpless but to chase.

He would give you everything you ever wanted. With gritted teeth he would ream you until you came undone, make that pretty face of yours contort over and over as you writhed against the desk, howling his name into the drop ceiling. The slap of skin on skin would echo off the tile until he’d rendered you utterly stupid, which was difficult to do.

“You want it, huh?” he’d huff into your ear, peppered with nip of your lobe. “Want me? Want my cum?”

Tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, you’d mewl your answer. “Yes. Please.”

Slumping forward in his desk, Eddie buried his head in the crook of his arm. Fuck. His boots dug into the tile, thighs straining, lip pinched in his teeth, desperate to restrain the bucking of his hips. There was an animal inside him, tugging like a rubber band waiting to snap. His aching balls begged as they drew upward, cockhead so sensitive it could feel every stitch. Eddie burrowed his nose into the desk, both chasing the feeling and running from it.

He would show you how much of a man he was, paint you with proof on the inside. Remind you as it slicked your thighs with every click of your boots down the hall.

Huffing into the dark cocoon, his free hand gripped the metal legs below him, holding on for dear life as the wave approached its crest. Hips stuttering, breath fogging the desk, he hit the wall. The one that made his mind go blank, his eyes roll back, his whole body tense and tingle like a yawn.

It came out like a whimper. Warmer and wetter with each pathetic spurt. A small, strangled sound threatened the back of his throat. It tried to escape his gaping, downturned mouth, but he choked it back. It was a relief to get it out, like a dirty confession. Wave after hot, thick wave of frustration pooled in his boxers, clung to his balls as he emptied them completely. When the last of it crested with nothing more to give, his hips rocked to stillness, and the rest of his body went limp.

He looked like a puddle of leather and hair. Squinting as you peered around the student in front of him, you wondered why his back was heaving like he had been running.

Eddie peeled his face up from the desk; cheeks flushed, mouth slack, looking at you in a way you could only describe as absolutely fucked-out. A stray ringlet swayed in his ragged breath. There was that feeling again, that pulse between your legs that made you clench them. Quickly as he’d met your eyes, he blinked away as if it burned.

Eddie was a mess. Shifting in his seat with a grimace, he could feel the cotton cling to his skin as he sobered to the chalkboard, and the desks, and the twenty other people he prayed were oblivious to what he’d just done. It was like he was waking up from a wet dream, only he had never gone to sleep. He blinked down at his desk, mortified as his cock softened happily, lolling in its sticky puddle. It was seeping through the denim, cooling in his lap as the seconds ticked by. Glancing at the clock, he calculated another twenty minutes before he could clean it up. Twenty whole minutes to sit with the consequences, to stew in a puddle of his own shame. He supposed he could excuse himself to the bathroom but that would, of course, mean addressing you. It would mean getting up and walking in front of your desk, and the entire class, while you handed him a hall pass like a fucking child. He would rather sit.

Blinking back your thoughts from the gutter, you righted yourself in your chair, chastising yourself as you uncrossed your legs, your own mess trailing cooly against your inner thigh. It was uncomfortable, embarrassing, but there was nothing you could about it now. Flipping through your Rolodex of thoughts, you searched for anything. Anything at all that was chase, or sensible, or mildly interesting.

Looking down at your naked hands, another scene fell open. This time the set came from memory. A pawn shop in early summer. It was vivid — the rain beating against the large window framing the on-ramp of the highway, Frank Sinatra mocking from the dusty speaker in the corner. The diamond sparkled magnificently as you passed the ring over the glass countertop. Brilliant rainbow fractals brought out by certain lights. They would catch you by surprise sometimes, tickle you with delight in the supermarket or the mall. It winked at you under the fluorescents then, a fleeting goodbye. In the moment, you weren’t sure which was worse — catching your own pained reflection in the glass below you or the pity in the eyes of the man who took your once-prized possession.

You left with twelve hundred dollars in an envelope, a fraction of what it cost him. The banker box rattled in the passenger’s seat as you slammed the door. Stuffed too full for a lid, your quill mug clattered against the plates your grandma gave you. You’d run out of newspaper wrapping your knick-knacks, resorted to your clothes to pad the rest.

The mug cast a shadow across your desk now, flickering in the light of the television.

You clenched your fists, fighting the touch-memory of Eddie’s ribs under your palms. You’d felt safe for a moment; nestled in his coat, in his hair, melting into the heat of his mouth. What you would give to live it all again, right now. What you would give to have him all to yourself, every day. For the luxury to go on a date, to be seen in public together, to explore where this was going. Glancing across the sea of twenty desks, reality stared back. Where did you think this was going?

Eddie’s pencil clattered to the floor. His curse was audible, even from the front of the room. Was this where you would place your trust? Your career, your future? In the reckless hands of a twenty year old man? He could ruin you. With a bold move, or a misplaced word, or a drunken gloat one night with his friends. Or god forbid it all went south and in a blind fury he lashed out and retaliated somehow. He wouldn’t do that, would he? You thought you knew him well enough to know that he would never, but did you really? You’d known Eddie Munson for all of four months, which felt strange to consider. It terrified you, the depth of your feelings in so short a time. Terrified you almost as much as the consequences for them.

Your hand twitched beside the green grading pen resting on the pile of tests you’d barely touched in the last thirty minutes. There were more in your bag to be graded — the stack you’d abandoned on your coffee table last night. It would all catch up to you eventually. The homework, the papers, the secrets. After all you’d been through, had you learned nothing? No one really knows what they want at twenty years old. You certainly didn’t. A head full of fantasies is what you had. Snatching your pen with a firm click, you slashed an X through one of the questions on the test below you and buried yourself in your work.

When the bell finally rang, Eddie hung back in his seat like he always did, waiting for his moment with you. But by the time he had stripped himself of his jacket and secured his flannel around his waist, you had already made for the door.

______

The metal serving spoon smacked the plastic tray, leaving behind a glob of tomato sauce over the tangle of limp noodles. With a tight-lipped nod of thanks, Eddie took it from the lunch lady and made his way into the settled cafeteria, finding his place at the end of the Hellfire table. Steamed carrots bounced from the tray onto the sticky veneer as it fell from his hands with a clatter. Slugging off his backpack to the floor, he slumped into the empty chair that had been waiting patiently for him for the past twenty minutes.

“There he is,” Jeff nodded to Dustin across the table.

“What’s the story this time? Got abducted by aliens?” chortled Dave.

He would think they would stop asking questions by now, but apparently he needed to teach them a lesson. “Nah, just… jerking off,” Eddie said with a deadpan shake of his head before spearing a meatball with his fork.

The half-truth earned him a rowdy chuckle from the peanut gallery, a gag from Mike. He would spare them the uglier details, like the balled up boxers shoved in the bottom of his backpack or how awkward it was to strip them off in the stall of a bustling bathroom. Glancing down at his lap, he checked that the flannel was still cloaking the drying white stain.

Jeff’s leather jacket squeaked from the bend in his arm as he leaned against the table. “I was just filling the boys in on the show last night,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

Eddie looked up with a full mouth, eyes like saucers.

“Yeah, told them about our special guest,” Dave added with a raise of his eyebrows.

He could only respond with a nervous huff, turning back to his tray as his stomach did kick flips.

“Is it true?” Mike asked Eddie. “She seriously got up and danced?”

Eddie swallowed the whole mouthful at once. He couldn’t lie his way out of this one. “I mean, nothing too crazy. Just for a song.”

“Yeah a song Eddie made us play for her,” Jeff said with a wink. Dustin and Mike’s mouthes fell open simultaneously.

“Think I saw her tits at one point,” Dave reminisced.

Eddie scoffed. “You did not see her tits, dude. You’re so full of shit.”

“I dunno man, her shirt was pretty short,” Gareth added with a playful nudge.

“They’re both full of shit,” Eddie shakily assured to the two youngest members.

They barely paid him a glance, chuckling amongst the rest while Dave rubbed lewd circles over his chest.

“HEY,” Eddie barked. “Look at me, all of you. This doesn’t leave this table, do you understand me? If I catch wind that any of you went and told anyone about last night I’ll skin you alive, I swear to god.”

Gareth shot him a tired look. “Jesus, dude. Nothing even happened.”

The knot in Eddie��s stomach released slightly. “That’s right. Nothing happened.”

Dave snorted, stabbing his bendy straw into a leftover carrot. “Yeah man, chill out. Nobody’s gonna get your girlfriend in trouble.”

The blood drained from Eddie’s face as the whole gang erupted in laughter. The uproarious, table slapping kind. It was a joke. A good one, it seemed. The word echoed like the pulse pounding in his ears. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. A warm, gooey word. One that made his stomach churn with longing. Biting back venom, he wondered how their faces would change if he slapped them with the truth. Would they still be laughing? Would they even believe him? They could laugh all they want—for your sake at least—but it stung nonetheless.

Dave caught the bitter shift in his expression. “What? You clearly have the hots for her.”

“Who doesn’t?” Jeff laughed.

“ANYWAY!” Eddie punctuated with a smack of his hands against the table. “Gareth, you’ve been awfully quiet about your date this past Sunday. Please, regale us,” he gestured grandly.

Gareth chuckled nervously, pushing a noodle around with his fork. “Oh uh, nothing really happened there either.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Seriously dude? You’ve been on like three dates and you haven’t even made it to first base?”

“I told you, Cindy’s not like that!” Gareth defended before glancing around sheepishly. “But we did…kinda… hold hands on Sunday.”

A long oooh emanated from the table. “Hands cupped or laced?” Dustin asked with a raise of his eyebrows, demonstrating with his own hands.

“Ok so,” Gareth began with an emerging smirk, “you know the Large Marge part of Pee-wee’s Big Adventure where her face goes all,” he demonstrated with a bug-eyed look, hands splayed on either side of his face.

The table responded with chuckles and nods. “Gets me every time,” muttered Dustin.

“Well, Cindy’d never seen it before, so she jumped and like, grabbed my arm,” he paused for effect, “so I just went for it.”

Approval bubbled up from his captive audience.

“Cupped at first,” he clarified, cutting through the noise, “but after like ten minutes she didn’t pull away, so,” he laced his fingers triumphantly. There was a barking applause, fists rattling the table. Jeff clapped him on the back with a blinding grin.

Eddie was an island. Oceans away, he managed a soft smile. His night had been far from innocent — a frantic tangle of hands, and tongues, and teeth in the frigid darkness. Phantom feelings that tugged at his lips and fingers, at the forefront of his every thought. Thumbing at the rubber rim of the lunch table, he dreamt of a universe where the walls and roles fell away, one where he could speak of his firsts too.

______

Eddie had been watching the clock all day. In eighth period trigonometry he watched second hand crawl around the clock face fifty times as his thumbnail worked the paint off a pencil, chipping at the indents his teeth left behind. The final bell was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. Slugging his backpack over his shoulder, he didn’t even bother to stop at his locker before ducking down the hall where your room resided. He almost collided with a straggling sophomore exiting your door on his way in.

Perhaps he had arrived too early. It wasn’t the scene he was accustomed to — you, standing at your desk, shoving folders into your satchel like you were trying to make a run for it. His small wooden chair still leaned against the wall. The AV cart still towered where it was when the lights were off. Glancing down, he quickly checked to make sure the flannel was draping correctly.

“Going somewhere?” he teased, unable to hide the concern creeping in.

Your smile was a coy, fragile thing. Chest rising with the kicking of your heart, you opened your mouth but had no words to show for it. Fumbling with an overstuffed folder, you hovered it over the opening of your bag before sliding it in with a sigh.

Eddie shut the door.

Turning over his shoulder, he snatched your eyes with a startling hunger. Your hands went slack, leather slumping against the desk as his heavy boots met the tile. He was slow in his approach, stalking past the empty rows, parched eyes drinking in every detail of your features. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you met him at the edge of your desk.

His curls were wild, chocolate eyes fiending, a soft concern weighing his brow. Under the fluorescents you could see very clearly what you’d felt last night. The shadow of stubble, the dip of his cupid’s bow, the soft ball of his nose that was cold against your cheek. Under his jacket, the taught landscape of his chest rose and fell. You swallowed, toying with the wool of your skirt.

“Hey,” he half-whispered, lids drooping ever so slightly.

“Hey,” you replied, like your tongue was feeling the word for the first time. It tugged a gooey softness from the corners of his mouth, and you cursed yourself for the pang to taste it again. So plush and pink, drawing your gaze long enough for him to notice.

Eddie dropped his backpack to the floor, tossing it hard enough to collide with the wall below the chalkboard. Shoulders unburdened, he rolled them back to assume the fullness of his height. With pupils blown, he darted out his tongue to wet his lips, looming like a wolf that sees a rabbit.

He closed in with a step, to which you retreated. The edge of the desk bumped the back of your thighs. Heart hammering, you peered into his hungry eyes. You’d been here before. Not long ago, in your imagination. Different, darker, quieter.

Eddie drank in the sight of you — your tight cotton shirt and your soft heaving chest. How the band of your skirt hugged the curve of your waist. You, woman.

Like a false sense of safety, his scent enveloped you. It was dizzying, how badly your hands burned to trace the swell of his pecks, to tangle in his hair, to capture his hot, slick mouth again. Terrifying, the part of you that begged for him to press forward, to tumble you backward, to take his place on top of you. Timidly, your fingers curled over the corner of the desk.

As he leaned closer, you could feel the tingle of heat from his chest, the ghost of his breath on your face. His arm became a cage as he steadied his palm against the wood behind you. “Been thinking about you all day,” he murmured in your ear.

You shivered, lids fluttering closed for a selfish, greedy moment. Glancing over his shoulder at the narrow sliver of a window in the door, you peered at the lockers on the other side of the hall. There were some still slamming, slowly petering out as voices drifted further with each passing second. “Eddie,” you warned, placing a hand over his sternum. Eyes dipping slightly at your touch, the solid swell of his chest expanded under the cotton. He stepped back with a gentle push, your palm lingering before falling away.

A deep breath fumed through his nostrils, heavy and tired. With a tight lipped nod, he backed away, pivoting toward his folded chair beside the door. It screeched as he dragged it across the tile, past the rows of desks, in front of yours, all the way to his usual place beside you. He snapped it open and paused, gripping the wood in his palms, staring down at the place where he’d sat countless times. How small it was compared to yours; padded with armrests and wheels.

“So we just…” he flexed his fingers and shook his head, unable to suppress the sting in his voice, “go back to normal then?”

Eyes cast down at the empty seats, you sighed. “I don’t… think we can.”

“Good,” he stated, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Come on, let’s sit down.”

It was enticing, that chair with its worn leather padding. What was more enticing was the space beneath the desk; a safe haven for hands and arms, for cupped palms and laced fingers. On top of the desk lay your bag, and your keys, and the plant still alive in its unbroken pot. Your head was pounding; a dull ache that had been radiating from your temples since lunch. Lockers slammed outside the room, fluorescents hot on your skin. With a deep, lamenting sigh, you gave him all you could manage — your honesty. “It’s been… a hell of a day for me—”

“You could say that again.”

“I—” you sighed sharply, “I really think I just need to go home a-and… think things through.”

“What’s there to think about?” The words tumbled out like an avalanche he couldn’t chase. Your balking expression made him wish he could suck them all back.

“Oh gee, I don’t know,” you gestured wildly to the classroom, “we could start with my job.”

“I’m sorry that was—y-you know what I mean.”

“Do I?” The steam from the pressure could have burned him.

“We—we both clearly have feelings for each other,” he explained, lowering his voice. “I just… thought we would figure it out.”

There was a gap between you, cluttered with papers and pens. Your bag slumped in the middle of the mess, gaping and stuffed to the brim. Pulse hammering behind your eyes, you blinked them slowly with a pained sigh. “I know,” you admitted, toying with the strap. “Eddie, please, I need some time to think about all this.”

It hurt to imagine. You, going home, sitting there in your slippers at your coffee table and deciding that he wasn’t worth the risk. Closing the flap on your satchel, you tugged the leather heap across the desk, but Eddie’s hand was quick to pounce. “No, we need to talk.”

Frustration pinched your brow. “I know but—”

“Then let’s talk, yeah?” he gestured to the chairs.

A cluster of shadows passed by the window over your shoulder. “Not here, not right now.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Then let’s get out of here.”

“And go where? A table at Benny’s?” you snapped.

“You’ve got a place, right?”

Folding your arms, you shot him an incredulous look, though the thought was both thrilling and terrifying. You lowered your voice. “What happened last night was… impulsive.”

“I’d say it was a long time coming.”

You sighed. “Regardless, I think that’s enough for this week.”

Eddie would disagree, but his tongue had a wrangle on the words this time. In the pause, it was easy for both of you to picture; his clothes on your bedroom floor. Easy to picture the ways he could ruin you in private — fold you like the chair under his wringing palms. Still, the ways he could ruin you in public were equally vivid.

You turned to grab your coat, brushing past him. The arm of his jacket was smooth against yours. Electrified by the contact, you lingered for a moment, unable to abstain from drinking in his form, his scent, from basking in the prickle of his aura.

He could see it clearly in the harsh light — the shadow that clung beneath your lower lashes, the sagging exhaustion in your eyes. Gravity tugged at the corners of your natural lips, so different from how they appeared last night — dark and dusty red, framing a smile that outshined the moon. His fingers twisted against the wood. “Please stay,” he begged softly.

Your eyes drifted shut, a split-second relish in the sweet pang of his voice, though the words rung a different bell; a different man saying them. In a flash, another scene appeared — you, at the door of your old home in Indianapolis, cradling the last of your belongings as your free hand gripped the knob.

Opening your eyes to the radiator, and the windows, and the pale grey sky before you now, you relinquished a shaky sigh and tucked your fingers under the thick collar of your coat. It still held a subtle fragrance, clinging to the memory of last night, desperately as you were. Eddie watched with rapt attention as your brow pinched in pain, fingers twitching under the wool he’d memorized the shape of you through. When your lip began to tremble, his hand lost control.

“Hey,” he whispered, meeting the soft cotton slope of your shoulder with his palm.

Your head snapped toward his umber eyes; warmer than the hand that thawed your shoulder, callus catching on the cotton as his thumb soothed over it. You followed it down to his wrist, to the tendons flexing beneath the chain, dipping under the sleeve of his worn, leather coat. How desperately you longed to wrap yourself inside it again, to nestle into his beating chest and hide there forever.

A voice crackled over the loudspeaker, and reflex had you flinching. “I’m sorry,” you mouthed, tears burning behind your eyes as you snatched your coat off the hook.

Bitterly, he dropped his hand. The contact hurt to break, almost as much as it hurt to watch you don your coat, to snatch your bag, to sling the heavy strap over your shoulder. Helplessly, he stood there, feeling like a fool until the welling of your eyes made it unbearable not to advance. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” he pleaded. “Like—like a big deal. Not if we don’t make it one.”

You froze, eyes narrowing as a pained fume left your nose. “That’s easy for you to say.” With a bitter huff, you turned on your heel and left him in the classroom with only the echo of your footsteps.

______

A/N: Yes, in my story Principal Higgins is a woman. I know in canon Eddie says “flip him the bird,” but for some reason my brain didn’t register that until literally two months ago. I always pictured Higgins as a stern, ancient, nun-like woman and I can’t seem to shake that characterization from my brain. Perhaps I’m just scarred from Catholic grade school. I think it works well for this story, so Martha Higgins it is.

Also sorry I never stated this in the tags but the upside down does not exist in this universe.

The smut is coming very soon. Pinky swear. Our Lady of Internal Conflict is just having a moment.

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

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MASTERLIST ⎮ AO3 ⎮ KO-FI

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me #dssctm

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the-joy-of-knowledge · 1 year

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How to create a reputation for yourself

In a very competitive world where resources are scarce and opportunities are too little, being able to stand out will get you further ahead.

Create a signature for yourself: I go to a very small undergrad school so I tend to cross paths with the same students/professors which makes me easily recognizable. My signature is that I sit at the front row of every class. Professor A came to my class to give a quick lecture on the importance of globalization in professor B's class (both are my professors) and they both joked about how I always sit at the front which makes it easy to spot me. I also ask questions, give commentaries, or say my observations. In that situation I am building the reputation of an engaged student even though I may not be the smartest one in the room and that helps to get recommendation letters from professors

Build networks with others: People make the mistake of thinking that networking is only with employers and that is so wrong. Being able to have conversations about your major, your background and your hobbies makes it easier to form connections with successful students. I may be competitive in class but outside of class I am forming study groups, workout groups, career groups because I know this is one of the best ways to build relationships thereby create a reputation for myself. My colleagues are presidents of clubs and sometimes they are the ones who interview me for leadership positions and because they can tell by my performance in and out of the classroom, I am easily favored.

Take advantage of any opportunity to lead: Agree to work on the project, agree to do the presentation, agree to speak for the class if no one else has the confidence to do so. In that way, you are building confidence and a strong reputation with your professors and students. This happened to me last week, no one in class stood up to make a presentation to our guest speaker on the current project we were working on. So, I stood up afraid and I went to the front and pushed through it. Even though I felt I did not do my best, I got recognized by the guest and he asked that I sent my resume for opportunities in his company. Do it afraid and build that reputation for yourself. You'd be surprised by who's watching.

Thanks!

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writing-in-the-impala · 3 months

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Secret Smokes (Part 11)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 4495

A/N: Yes I did drop off the face of the earth for a bit but can I make it up to you with an extra long chapter?

| SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 11, Next Chapter

Your fight was the last time you saw Remus Lupin that week, the next lesson you had with Lupin was taken over by Snape, even your tutoring was now with McGonagall. Lupin returned on Friday evening, you saw him in the great hall during dinner, and that's when you received an owl from him which was rare during dinner. He didn't pay you any attention, so you decided to take the letter to the lake and read it by yourself so no one could interrupt you and he couldn't watch or analyse you open it. You sat down by the water and opened it.

"My dearest, Y/N,

Oh how I've fucked up, in life constantly but with you in more ways than one. I don't know how to express my words in person I've never been good at words when it came to the important things like people. This is version five of this letter.

I traveled home after Monday. I couldn't bare to look at that desk, I couldn't go to Sirius as his home will forever smell like the first time I kissed you. When I arrived I found your letters, they made me realise you left to protect us from ending up in this very situation, I thought it was from fear of getting told off for being home late but really you knew that Percy was looking for clues. Unfortunately his letter found me first and convinced me to push you away, that I was risking too much by risking your schooling, I don't care about my career, what's life if you only live for a job but I don't want to mess up your future. I take my job very seriously but life is more important.

You were right when you said I'm scared of having something good, however you were wrong when you said you were convenient. You're far from it. I might be lonely but that's not why I'm drawn to you, I'm drawn to your wit, I'm drawn to your smile and I'm drawn to your world. If we could spend forever sitting on my sofa listening to music and talking I would die a happy man.

I don't know what my feelings for you are but they are strong and they scare me, you're much more important to me than anyone else I know and I fear to admit it. New Year's Eve I messed up, if we were ever going to kiss I wanted it to be after a date where I show you how you're meant to be loved and offer you the world not drunk on the steps of my best friends house.

I don't know how you feel about me and if I hurt you too much, if that's the case I am terribly sorry I wish I could make it right. If an inch of you still thinks I'm a decent man I have two offers for you.

A. If you want to remain friends and go back to last year's rules "no dear, no alcohol and no kissing" meet me tomorrow evening in my office for tea and tunes, or let me know in your own way

B: If you are up for an adventure my dear and willing to see what happens if we risk it and you still feel any attraction after my poor behaviour: Meet me tomorrow morning at 9am in Hogsmeade, next to the three broomsticks.

C: if you simply hate me like you said (at least 4 times using my full name I'm glad you don't know my middle name) all I ask is show up to my lessons, we can arrange another teacher to take over you 1-on-1 schooling but please show up. I promise to pretend I don't think you're the most amazing witch and woman I've ever met. Please don't let me ruin your exams or future.

Yours, Remus John Lupin.

P.S. To answer the question in your original letters from the 1st of January keep my sweater, it will simply be a painful memory if you choose C and I like the way it looks on you if you choose B ."

You felt a mixture of excitement and relief with his letter, it felt like everything has magically explained itself. Remus was an anxious writer with a tendency to sabotage his own happiness but he was trying. He was trying for you.

The next morning you woke up early to get ready to see Remus, you didn't know what to expect but you were excited. You arrived in Hogsmeade early knowing Remus as someone extremely punctual you were shocked to find Remus wasn't there. You waited until 9:05 but nothing, so you began to walk back at towards the castle. "Wait!" Remus said and you turned around to see him holding two cups of coffee, one of which had obviously slightly spilled on him. "It's with milk!" He said holding a coffee forward towards you.

"Thank you." You said grabbing it.

"I'm glad you came." He said softly.

"I'm glad you sent that letter." You replied. "You have coffee on your sweater." You pointed out reaching in your pocket for a tissue.

"I didn't think through apparating with two cups of coffee.' He admitted with a shy smile as you dabbed his jumper dry. "Thank you dear." He continued softly.

"Are you ready to go?" He asked.

"Where?"

"London, grab my hand and hold your coffee tight." He said reaching out a hand and you took hold of it and you appeared in Holborn, London.

"I thought that wasn't possible in Hogwarts." You admitted.

"That's why we met in Hogsmeade dear, sorry about being late, there was a queue." He admitted showing you the coffee.

"I thought you may have changed your mind." You admitted.

"I was scared you wouldn't come." He admitted.

"Liar you got two cups of coffee." You pointed out.

"I had a feeling you'd show up, now dear, see today as my way of apologising to you. I have a small plan but if you want to do anything just tell me." He said and at that moment you turned the corner to the British Museum. "Have you been here before?" He asked.

"Maybe once or twice as a kid."

"Okay but have you ever had a magic tour of this place?" He questioned and you shook your head. "Great." Remus led you into the British museum, he looked quite excited and more young now than ever. "Now not everyone knows that many treasures in this building are actually artefacts from great magicians."

"So they stole from wizards too?" You asked and Remus laughed.

"They sure did, now not many people know how some of these great people used magic to help muggles and how some of this stuff is either cursed or enchanted." Remus continued as you walked through the beautiful foyer.

"But I'm sure you do." You said teasing him and he nodded.

"I'm not just a pretty face, unlike you I spent a lot of time in libraries."

"Are you saying I don't study? I spend a lot of time in my professors office."

"You spend a lot of time listening to music and distracting me while I try to mark work, dear." He shot back and you laughed. "Now as I was saying, I may not be a rich man or have much to offer but I have a lot of knowledge."

"You should be a teacher." You said with a wink.

"You should be a comedian. Now enough talking watch this." He said and then one of the Egyptian statues moved and stood up.

"Holy shit, are you allowed to do that?" You asked looking around.

"Don't worry no one will notice." He said

"What was that?" You asked.

"It's a Pharos tomb guard, they're enchanted to stand when an attacker approaches, they have a lot of ancient magic in here."

"So why didn't they do that when they were removed from the tomb?" You asked as you and Remus continued to walk and look at the different statues.

"They did, they did for a very long time, however when dark wizards realised there's money in helping archaeologists they helped lift curses or limit enchanted objects. Those guards were stopped from being the soldiers they were, the only thing left is the command to stand when you summon them." Remus explained, you were impressed by his knowledge. You walked through the ancient Egyptian part for another few minutes before Remus took hold of your hand and hurried you to the Ancient Greek part. "This bits my favourite, sorry is it okay if I do that?" He asked gesturing to your hand.

"It's encouraged." You blushed.

"Tell me when I cross a line Y/N, we still need to talk about us but first I want to hold my part of the deal, showing you who I actually am."

"And who are you profesor?"

"A lonely bookworm with a furry problem and a teaching job to pay the bills."

"Don't forget the cottage." You winked making him laugh.

"Now these are the Parthenon marbles, the Parthenon was being used as a base to store ammunition by the Ottomans and some idiot messed up and blew up the whole thing."

"Some idiot is that the technical term profesor?" You poked him in the arm and he rolled his eyes. You found him very attractive when he was more casually dressed, with his jacket drooped over his arms and a warm sweater on.

"It is now." He replied. "Long story short some guy named Lord Elgin went to Greece and asked the Ottomans can I have this? And they said sure and he took it, as lords usually do. It's missing a lot of parts as they're back where they belong but a small part of me feels lucky to have them here as they tell a story. You see if you come over here you'll see the Centaur." He led you over to the far wall. "He tells a story of the battle between Centaurs and Lapiths at the marriage feast of Peirithoos. And if you do this even with it's missing parts you get to watch it." He lifted his wand and the marble moved. It began plaything the story throughout the panels as if they were alive just like the paintings in Hogwarts. "And if you think that is cool look behind you." You turned around and the main sculptures were all moving, they were missing parts but they felt human.

"That's incredible, show me more." You expressed with a big smile and Remus couldn't help but smile back. "Come on." He said putting one arm around you while his other arm still had his jacket drooped over it. And like that, he led you through the museum holding your waist and making your heart flutter at his actions and brain amazed at the world of knowledge he was sharing with you.

It was one of the few times you saw Remus truly happy as he immersed himself in history. It was beautiful to see him care free not putting himself down, not talking about his condition just being himself. As you walked out the museum hours later he still had a hand around your waist. "Now dear what would you like to do?"

"Should we go get some food?"

"What a wonderful idea, there's a great pub not too far from here, only thing I need to get some cash out as I'm low on muggle money." He explained.

"I can pay."

"I'm sure you can but you won't I'm taking you out on a date it's my treat." He said as he rushed in front of you to the cash machine. "Okay" he said looking at it. "Okay, okay." He continued looking for where to insert his card. "Just a moment." He said after inserting it and just starring at all the options on the screen. "Merlin." He whispered quietly while pressing random buttons.

"You do know how to use it?" You asked suggestively.

"Of course I do." He said but he was obviously struggling.

"Here let me help you." You stood alongside him pressing the buttons for him. "How much do you want to withdraw?"

"£20?" He said hesitantly.

"£20?" You confirmed.

"£50."

"£50 are you sure?" You asked in disbelief.

"I'm not good with this, I haven't been in a muggle pub in forever I don't know the prices these days. I'm sorry, get however much you think it'll cost for us to have food. This is so embarrassing." He admitted.

"£50 it is, Remus the muggle world is my world it's okay to ask for help, I literally didn't know you could aparate in Hogsmeade." You calmed him while you finished the transaction.

"Yeah that was silly, everyone knows-"

"You don't know how to use a cash machine Remus!" You interrupted.

"I'll shut up. Now off to the pub, thank you for your help." He took your hand and lead the way. The pub was quite busy but you expected it as it was lunchtime on a Saturday. It was nice to sit opposite Remus having a meal, flirting, chatting and being yourselves. You didn't feel anxious like you did sometimes on dates, you felt like you were hanging out with a friend that you had a crush on, he would make you blush a lot with his words but he was also clumsy and stumbled a lot, something you never saw in him at Hogwarts. He ordered fish and chips and knocked over the sauces with his hand, when he went to pick them up, he hit his head on the edge of the table, you found it all cute and amusing but he was obviously embarrassed. "Am I making you slowly think I'm an idiot?" He asked after the incident and you simply replied with. "Only a little bit, makes you less intimidating."

"Am I intimidating?" He asked.

"Not at all." You said and he shook his head while laughing. After you ate you decided to take a walk along the river at first you began to talk about meaningless stuff like how you missed the Christmas lights or how Remus enjoyed the fact you can find oyster shells and old pipes on the rivers edge from the Victorian era. However the conversation changed when Remus asked. "What do you see us as?"

"I don't know." You admitted a bit of anxiety started to grow inside you.

"I don't know either, but I think we need to set some ground rules."

"What do you suggest?"

"Defining what's okay, like for example I think if either of us is developing strong feelings like love for the other we should cut it off as we don't want to hurt each other and with our current position we can't be in a relationship and be student and teacher." He said his eyes moving all over the place but avoiding you and he used his hands to emphasise what he was saying.

"How come?"

"Well for starters we can't do this all the time, if I was in love I would like to offer that person all my love, I would like to take them on dates, I would like to walk around and hold their hand, I would like to bring them to see my friends and so on... we can't do that, it will hurt to love someone but not be able to live in public, I don't want to risk the pain for either of us." He explained and you nodded.

"So what can we do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to continue to relax in your office with you." You began and he nodded. "I want to be able to kiss you, I want to be myself with you, I want to smoke on the bridge with you and when no one is watching I want to be held by you."

"And we can do that we can just not love each other, and give each other a relationship that's the line."

"So we can see other people?" You questioned him and he looked puzzled.

"I would prefer not, I can't stop you but I may not feel comfortable with sleeping with you if you're kissing other men." He admitted.

"I'd prefer if you weren't kissing anyone else either... Can we do this sometimes?"

"Of course dear, however not as much as either of us would like to, maybe once a month or every so often not to raise suspicions."

"But I can come see you in your office every night?"

"My door is always open for you dear."

"Can I sleep in your office?"

"Where on the desk?" He remarked in a snarky way.

"Is that where you want to fuck me?" You matched his energy y.

"Well it's not for sleeping." He winked and the grabbed your hand."Enough serious conversations, let's just live a little before we have to worry about rules. Today, exists in a world of its own, what do you want to do?" He asked with a cheery tone.

"I mean checking out that desk sounds fun but maybe before that we should enjoy London."

"I'm already enjoying it right here." Remus said stopping and pulling you in closer, putting his arms around your waist. "I think I like London." He said looking at your lips.

"Oh really." You stood on your toes to get closer to him and he leaned down and kissed you lightly.

"Alright let's go I have an idea." He said once again grabbing your hand and leading the way. You walked into a small cosy record shop. You both started looking through the shelves showing each other records you thought the other would life and either replying with a "yes" or "not my style" once the yes like became tall enough you walked over to the record played and started listening to them, there was only one pair of headphones so you had to share, bringing in your heads close as you listened to the music. "Oh listen to that trumpet." You said listening to a Chet Baker vinyl. "Do you like it?" Remus asked and you nodded. "This is one of my favourite songs, the earnest vocals, I fall in love too terribly fast, for it to ever last..." you began to sing along to the song and Remus smiled warmly at you, he couldn't help but kiss you on the cheek. "Let's buy it." He said.

"What Remus it's quite expensive?"

"That doesn't matter today dear." He said putting it back in the vinyl sleeve and taking it to the till. "Besides there's nothing more I want to do than lay in bed with you and listen to this here vinyl." He said while paying for the vinyl, he thanked the cashier a grumpy old man who didn't seem to care about your conversation. You continued to walk through London for a bit longer but it started to get colder and you both decided it was time to head home. "Okay, we need to aparate back separately as it may be busy with people at this time." He began. "You'll go first and I'll follow, I don't want to leave you alone back here, I'm sure you'll be okay but I don't want the stress." You nodded in reply. "Okay dear, once you are back it would be a good idea for you to go to your dorm or walk around somewhere far from my office, and in about thirty minutes from now come to my office and we can continue this evening." You nodded in reply and that's when he gave you a quick kiss on the lips. "I'll see you soon my dear." He said and you left. As you walked back to Hogwarts all the emotions rushed in, the excitement, the love you felt but shouldn't, the confusion from the conversation about not falling in love. You felt very overwhelmed but you also felt so many positive emotions that you couldn't wait to go visit Remus in his office. It was weird not being able to travel back with him after you were able to spent so long acting like a couple but it made sense you just wished it could be different. You walked back to your dorm room where Percy was sitting on the chair. "Hi Y/N." He said as he saw you coming in, you didn't reply. "Still giving me the silent treatment? You know I haven't done anything wrong all I wanted to do is spend time with my friend." He continued as you walked away.

"Our dear brother causing you trouble?" Fred asked as you walked past him.

"I'm going to hex him." You replied as your turned to the girls chambers.

"Be our guest." George said before you went into your chambers. It was good that Percy saw you, helps avoid his suspicions. You waited the thirty minutes before heading straight to Lupins office, just in case you checked if Percy followed you but he didn't so you were in the clear to go meet Remus. You walked through the corridors with a hint of excitement as you approached his office, you knocked on the door and Remus opened it almost immediately. "Hey you." He said with a smile letting you in and checking behind you if anyone was in the corridor, he closed the door and turned the lock before leading the way upstairs to his office where he also locked the door after you came in. "Hungry?" He asked as you sat down on the sofa.

"More peckish."

"Perfect, I have some cheeses here and some bread."

"How fancy." You pointed out looking at the small charcuterie board he prepared.

"Only the best for you." He said as he sat down beside you, a record he already had playing way playing in the background as you both sat their indulging into the different flavours. "Thank you for joining me today." Remus suddenly changed the subject.

"Thank you for showing me everything, and for the food and the vinyls, everything." You said a bit overwhelmed by his generosity.

"Come here." He gestured for you to come in closer, you lay on the sofa with your head on his crotch and he stroked your head lovingly, slowly playing with you hair. "I love how soft you hair is." He pointed out as he continued to stoke your hair. A few minutes later the vinyl playing finished and Remus gestured for you to sit up so he could change the music. "How about we try this one out dear." He said pulling out the new Chet Baker vinyl and your heart warmed. "Anything to drink? I've got a nice bottle of wine I've been thinking about opening."

"That sounds great."

"The music or the wine?" He clarified.

"Both."

"White or red dear?" He asked while opening a cabinet.

"What do you prefer? Maybe red?"

"Red it is." He pulled the bottle out and began to open it placing two glasses on the table in front of you and filling them up. "To wonderful day." He said raising his glass as he sat down. You rested your head against his shoulder as you sat in comfortable silence.

"You know moony, I prefer this when we're allowed to cuddle on the sofa and kiss sometimes." You broke the silence.

"Me too dear." He bought his hand up to your cheek and pecked your lips slightly before going back to the resting position. "I craved this every time you sat here and I sat at my desk aching to kiss you." He admitted. This was peace, you were in your safe place.

"Are you aching to kiss me now?" You asked quietly.

"Always." He whispered into your ear placing his glass down on the small table in front of you and then taking yours to do the same for you. He leaned in to kiss you, as the kiss depended you ended up laying on the sofa. He was above you his lips and your lips colliding as you both struggled to catch a breath. You felt him getting hard as he slowly moved his body up and down over you, you reached up for his shirt unbuttoning it and pushing it off his shoulders. "You're not wasting any time." He said between the kisses. His arms moved under your ass and he scooped you up in one movement so you were now straddling him, he pulled your shirt up and unclasped your bra as you began to grind on him making him harder and harder. He pulled away from your lips to suck on your nipples, the sensation made you moan in reply he grabbed your hair and pulled it down roughly making your head tilt back as he continued to worship your body. "Let's take this somewhere more comfortable." He said lifting you up and carrying you.

"You don't want to do it on your sofa?" You asked curiously.

"Oh I do, and my desk and every wall however today I will show you how you're meant to be loved not fucked." He said while pushing the door to his bedroom open and throwing you down on his bed. He unbuttoned your trousers and pulled them off along with your underwear, getting down on his knees and kissing your legs all the way up to your pussy. His hand reached up to your breasts where he started massaging them as his tongue flicked your clit making you moan. As he continued this movement with his tongue he moved his hand to slowly slip his fingers inside you pulling in and out while starting to alternate between sucking and licking. "Merlin you're either so wet or I'm drooling like a dog over how good you taste." He went straight back in and continued until you started begging for him as you felt yourself getting close. "Beg for me again." He growled as he moved to be just above you.

"Please." You barely whispered and he smashed his lips into yours, unbuckling his own trousers and taking them off while still keeping his lips on yours. You felt him thrust inside you leaving time for you to adjust, even though you remembered his size it shocked you how deep he filled you. "Are you okay dear?" He whispered checking in on you. "Mmhm." You confirm and he picked up the speed. He kissed you while going faster and started to slowly move his kisses down to your neck and breasts. You felt yourself get close as he ramped up the speed. "Cum for me dear, I want you to feel how good I make you feel." He said kissing his breath a bit. You couldn't hold it any longer and came which made him cum in you, you felt the warmth inside you as he slowed his pace and rested more of his body weight while moaning into your lips. He kissed you deeply once more before pulling out and laying down beside you. You were both panting as you lay there, Remus moved the covers and covered both of your bodies and kissed your forehead. "Good night dear." He whispered and you placed your head on his chest hugging him as his arm was around you. "Good night, Moony."

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

Tags (if you aren't here but want to be leave a reply and I'll add you or DM me to get removed):

@thesoundresoundsecho @ahoyyharrington @merleisapartygod @sting-0f-ennui @starchaser-lily @ashisabitgay @livingordeadwhoknows @v0relino @evie-beanie @whotfskai @admiringyou @lily-mylove @kirubi @ghostbandghostcodghostface @rockymiles @99tech99 @almizz1 @standepechemode @lovingdilfss @artvoyager @sofacover @bubblegum9468 @spidermansolosurfav @harleyanderson2004

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#remus lupin x reader #student x teacher #teacher! Remus Lupin #professor lupin x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #remus lupin #the maruaders #harry potter #remus love you #secret smokes #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #the marauders #sirius orion black

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olomaya · 8 months

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Oops! All Updates (and Fixes)!

I've got a bunch of fixes and updates to some of my older mods and I decided to release them all in a batch. Please read below for the details to see what has been changed and then links to the files to redownload and replace in your game.

If this is your first time downloading, obviously you'll need to download everything and you should read the original post for more information.

As always, let me know if any issues and enjoy!

Voidcritters Mod

Fixed Read Card Stats animation

Added a new interaction to allow your sims to talk about and compare their cards. Sims will build relationship, gain skill and train their critters a little as well (the cards will vibrate as the critters train up)

Giving a rare or limited edition card to another Sim will yield a higher relationship boost.

Previously there was no way to get all 22 cards in the game as you only get one of the two Limited Edition cards. I've fixed that by adding the chance to also get Limited Edition cards by reading a Voidcritters comic book. There's a 25% chance if you have less than level 8 skill and 45% if 8 or higher.

Now that Sims can collect all cards, I've added a new skill opportunity. Sims that collect all the cards will get the Critter Collector reward and going forward their cards will be worth more.

Download MAIN file here and updated card file here

Student Council Mod

The Collect Signatures interaction now has a more appropriate animation of a sim collecting signatures

Increased the chances that more inactive council members will autonomously raise funds and collect signatures

The campaign tracker will no longer show blank information after you've closed out and restarted the game

All campaign icons will now show up in the notifications

Fixed an issue where the Sim would reset when submitting signatures for the Teacher Pay school campaign

Reduced the skilling level for council roles while at the afterschool activity

Download updated MAIN here

Hang Out Mod

Children and teens can now hang out in groups. Simply click on one of the two Sims hanging out and select “Hang Out with X and his/her friends” (you need to have LTR 30 or higher)

A child or a teen hanging out can also invite another friend to join them

I think you can have up to 8 Sims given that I have 7 in the photo and there's still room.

Added liking VFX and speech bubbles when hanging out

Download here (all ages version here)

Washer+Dryer Combo

I created a new mesh for the washer/dryer so it slots under the counter like dishwashers and trash compactors.

Added a stacked washer/dryer tower. This still uses the same script as the single appliance so you can’t run the washer and the dryer at the same time.

Changed out the pod and detergent box meshes

Important: If you have the old version, you need to replace with this or remove it. You can't have both the old version and this one in your game or it will CTD. Also, the script is in the Combo file so you still need to download both if you only want the stacked tower version.

Download here (stacked version here)

Private Clinic (BASE)

The clinic controller will now push Sims that have certain traits as well, such as Neurotic, Commitment Issues, Insane, Hotheaded, etc.

Once pushed to the clinic, Sims will find a chair to sit in and then wait for an hour to be seen by a doctor. After an hour, they will stop waiting with an annoyed message (you can still see them though).

Waiting patients now identified with a custom headline effect

Prenatal vitamins no longer have a weight loss effect (as I'm putting a similar feature in the breastfeeding aspect of the obgym module, it's not needed here)

Updated the Buy and Sell Pills animations

Updated the comically large horsepill mesh to make it smaller and more realistic. The animation has been updated as well

Updated the write prescription animation

Updated the apply ointment animation

Download updated MAIN here

Private Clinic - Psychiatry

Updated the therapist session animations – therapist will now take more notes to jot down how crazy you are

Updated the patient records layout to avoid text overflow

Sims can now do their coping mechanisms (breathing exercises and mindfulness) while sitting

Important: You need to download the updated Private Clinic MAIN file above as well if you download this

Download updated MAIN here

Disclaimer: My CAS cc for this world was not loaded. I am not responsible for any of these Sims' outfit choices.

#download #s3cc #s3cc download #mod updates #privateclinicmod #voidcritters #afterschoolactivities #student council #washerdryer #hangout

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megu-meow · 8 months

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missin' you crazy - Gojo Satoru

gojo satoru x fem.reader

Summary: moments when Gojo misses you and tries to cope with you being away.

Satoru always did everything so that he wouldn't depend on anybody but himself. Growing up, he was given everything, he didn't have to do anything on his own - that shows when he moves into the Jujutsu Tech dorms and he's the only one incapable of doing his own laundry, however, he always preferred being alone for his emotional well-being. He was conditioned into thinking that friends, family, and lovers were only sources of weakness, and the Strongest must not have weaknesses. But people change in high school and that most certainly applies to the prodigy of the Gojo clan as well. Firstly, he befriends his classmate, a dark-haired kid with the ability of Curse Manipulation, Geto Suguru. The two of them click instantly, despite their different upbringings and their clashing personalities. They wreak havoc around campus together, making every teacher and student aware of their immense power and the dominance they have over the entire Jujutsu World. So when you get admitted to the Tokyo branch of the two existing sorcery schools, you are already aware of the potential your upperclassmen have. However, you're not the type to settle, so you challenge yourself to work hard enough to get to their level, and for the first time, Gojo Satoru meets someone he finds to be intimidating. Not only are you determined and hot-headed, but you're also kind-hearted and gentle. Satoru cannot help but blush every single time you ask him about his well-being or every time you bring him souvenirs from your missions from around the world. Gojo finds himself slowly falling in love with you, a big no-no for him, based on the teaching of his clan members. However, he wouldn't be the Strongest if he let anyone but him influence his decisions in life, so he asks you out anyway and is thrilled when you agree, because no matter how arrogant, spoiled, and insufferable you think he is, he also has a big heart and he's sweet, considerate and gentle towards you.

Over time, Satoru learns that you're sent away abroad a lot, given how your cursed technique consists of you being able to speak any language, imbedded with cursed energy that can manipulate humans, curses, sorcerers, and curse users alike. It's a unique and powerful technique that Gojo admires, one that is considered extremely useful around the globe. And with you, his favorite person on the entire planet, being away comes an unbearable amount of suffering - so he says.

The first time you take on a longer mission overseas, it's around three or four months into your relationship. Satoru is being driven back to campus by an auxiliary manager from the airport, where they dropped you off approximately ten minutes ago. His eyes are glued to the display of his overly expensive flip phone, an obnoxious message from you opened, one full of emotes he would usually consider silly, but his heart aches from knowing that this is the last point of contact he would have with you for the next two weeks. The year is 2006 and cell phones are not developed enough to maintain stable connection across the globe, so he knows he won't hear your voice or see your face until you come back to Tokyo. As soon as he arrives back on campus he looks for Shoko and Suguru, maybe they could distract him enough so that he forgets how much he misses you. It's a new feeling for him, it somewhat pisses him off, not one person was important enough for him before that he would experience how missing someone would feel like, but here he is. Miserable.

"You look rough, champ." Shoko teases from the top of the girls' dorm building, where she and Suguru are sharing a cigarette.

"What happened, Satoru? Did they run out of strawberry mochi at the convenience store?" Geto asks curiously. It's not every day that Gojo's smile is wiped from his face or the bounce is missing from his step.

"No, I don't want mochi right now." the white-haired sorcerer sighs dramatically, as he teleports to the roof and sits down beside his friends.

"Oh, something's definitely wrong. You always want mochi..." Shoko exclaims.

"I KNOW WHY HE'S SULKING!" Geto states with a wide smile, trying to contain his laughter "Didn't our beloved kohai, Y/N leave for a long mission today?"

"You're right, Geto, she did!" says Shoko, while Satoru stays quiet, his eyes focused on the ground under him, his long fingers fiddling with a loose thread on his school uniform. "Do you miss her already, Gojo?"

"I guess so... We didn't spend much time apart since we started dating."

"You're smitten, Satoru!" Geto says matter-of-factly and flicks his best friend in the head to annoy him even more.

"Yeah..." the wielder of the Six Eyes agrees and disappears in an instant, teleporting into his dorm room. He hopes that waking up early and running around helping you pack all day tired him out enough so that he could go to sleep straight away, but he's totally wrong: he's been tossing and turning for hours now, unable to sleep, thinking about how you're so far away, possibly still on a flight to get to your exotic destination. He's huffing, dramatically flailing his limbs around as he turns into his back, eyeing the blank, perfectly white ceiling of his dorm. He remembers the fluorescent stars decorating your room, he thinks about how calming they are when it's pitch black outside and there's no other source of light when he wakes up beside you in your bed in the middle of the night. He turns again and suddenly gets a whiff of your sweet perfume and he shoots up, looking around the darkness surrounding him. He spots one of your plushies that he gave to you on your second date, that time you went to an arcade and he promised he would get you any stuffed toy you wanted. His plan miserably failed, but then he used his technique at ring toss, wielding the air around so that he could succeed and got you the stuffed penguin you were eyeing the whole evening. He picks up the toy, bringing it close to his chest as he buries his nose into the soft fur in between his fingers. It smells exactly like you, a mixture of your perfume, your shampoo, and body wash as calmness takes over his tense muscles. Sleep comes easy after that and the next 13 days fly by just like that, he keeps the toy close to his person the whole time, having it around gives him a sense of security, one that he didn't realize existed while he was around you before.

After 14 days you're finally back in his arms, he's at the airport waiting for you, of course, with a bouquet of flowers and an explosive amount of energy. He swoons a bit when he spots you, in one of his expensive, black sweatshirts and he teases you for wearing it, however, you don't mind, you tell him without hesitation that it was the only item that could provide you the comfort to go through your mission without him. He smiles widely, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead, but he doesn't mention his newfound attachment to your stuffed penguin.

The second time you leave for nearly a month, Satoru is dealing with a lot. His best friend just recently left Jujutsu High to become a curse user, a murderer (Gojo hates referring to him as one, but it's the truth). You don't want to leave either, it's evident from the endless tears that are running down your face. You want to assure him, that you love him and you'll always come back to him, but the "L word" is not something you've said to each other before and you know talking about feelings is not the Strogest's forte, so you stay silent, trying to express your strong emotions towards him with long embraces, soft, loving kisses and mindful squeezes to his hands. He understands, more than ever, that you're just as committed to this relationship as he is, he knows you're not going to leave him like Suguru and you will never develop insane beliefs that would turn the entire Jujutsu World against you. You're more level-headed than that. So he decides, he's gonna confess to you, he's gonna admit he's irreversibly in love with you, but no words leave his mouth. He doesn't know why, he thinks it's because he recently lost one of the few people he allowed to get close to his heart and he doesn't want to admit something that would make him vulnerable. The real reason though, is that those words have never been spoken by the Strongest for anyone besides his mother. So he spends the whole time you're away contemplating his decision to let you leave without telling you how he really feels, his brain drifts towards the scene at the airport even while fighting a Special Grade curse he would consider amusingly weak on any other day. He doesn't sleep, he overworks himself, but that doesn't affect him as he conditioned his brain into healing itself constantly. However, at one point the tiredness takes over him and he shuffles instinctively towards your dorm room where he falls asleep instantly in between your familiar sheets. That night he dreams of you, he cannot quite recall the details, but he knows he wakes up with a smile on his face and that's the point where he decides he would tell you he loves you the moment he picks you up at the airport. He does exactly that and you say the words back in between tears because you're an emotional mess every time you two get reunited.

The third time, he's already a teacher at Jujutsu Tech and the two of you have your own house inside the school barriers. Satoru spends a lot of time on missions as well and he doesn't like leaving you completely alone, so knowing that you're safe inside Tengen-sama's protection gives him a level of calmness but he never stops worrying for you. However, it's the first time you're leaving him since you moved into your shared home and he suddenly realizes that home does not necessarily mean a place, but a person. The first time he truly felt at home somewhere was in this exact house when the two of you moved in, but without your music softly playing, the smell of your cooking lingering around and your soft hums/giggles it's not the same. When he gets home late from a mission he notices your absence from the couch, your curled up form waiting for him with tired, but happy eyes. The heater setting is the same as he put it on a few days ago, not slightly higher, because you're not around to complain about being cold. He walks towards your shared bedroom with his head hanging low and he looks around the usually comforting space with a lonely sigh. He walks up to your vanity, your jewelry box open, displaying all the beautiful pieces he gifted you over the years. Images of you wearing them run through his mind, the domestic scenario of you asking him to put on your favorite necklace for you in the morning. He always complies, leaving kisses on your neck and collarbones, inhaling your scent that never changed since high school. His eyes drift towards the slim band around his ring finger and he smiles, because you made an oath to return to him every time you leave.

A few days later you're back, as you get older your missions shorten because you finish them in a smaller time frame than expected. You're cool and talented like that. The house fills with your music and the smell of your cooking again, the giggles can be heard as well after Satoru starts tickling your sides while he admires the smile plastered on your face lovingly.

The fourth time, Itadori walks around campus, looking for his teacher. He's late for class and after an intense battle between the three first-year students, it has been decided that Yuji had to be the one to look for Gojo. However, he's caught by Principal Yaga, whose blood instantly boils upon hearing about Satoru's slacking out.

"Follow me, Itadori. I know exactly where that idiot is." the intimidating adult starts walking down the corridor, towards the staff offices. He guides the kid to your office and he opens the door widely. Yuji steps in and he instantly notices his teacher, fast asleep on your couch with a fluffy, pink blanket around him as he embraces your stuffed penguin close to his chest. This has become routine of Satorus over the years, as he slowly learned how to cope with your absence. He knows you spray both the blanket and the stuffie with your perfume before you leave because you know what he's doing every time. You've received numerous pictures of him in this exact state from Shoko over the years and your heart swells with love every time.

"Whoa, whose office is this?" Yuji asks looking around. He admires all the different memorabilia you’ve collected from your travels around the world.

"It belongs to Y/n-san. Gojo loves sleeping in here when she's away." the principal explains, as he tries to shake Gojo awake, but fails miserably because of his infinity.

"That's a bit creepy, isn't it?" the boy asks, not quite understanding the situation.

"Not when she's your wife and you're the clingiest person to ever walk on this earth."

"GOJO-SENSEI HAS A WIFE?" Itadori exclaims in shock, fishing out his phone from his pocket to text Nobara.

"Yeah, the prettiest one as well." they hear from the couch as Gojo gets up and stretches. "I'm sorry for being late to class, I don't get much sleep when..."

"...your pretty girl is out of town, we know Satoru! Now get back to teaching!" Yaga exclaims and Gojo mutters an obnoxious 'scary' into Yuji's ear.

The boy giggles and they both leave towards the classroom they're supposed to be in. As soon as they get there, Nobara bombards them with millions of questions, demanding to see pictures of the 'idiot that tolerates Gojo' and is surprised when Megumi scoffs at her, warning her not to refer to you as an idiot. However, Satoru is glad to show them all his favorite pictures and he tells the kids stories about you, ones that are new to Megumi as well. Gojo Satoru is not alone anymore, on the contrary, he hates being alone. However, over the years he learned how to cope. At least he knows you will always come back to him, no matter what. As long as he's surrounded by your scent, your belongings, Megumi, his other students, and the stuffed penguin is close by, waiting for you to come back is not as hard as he first imagined.

#jjk x reader #gojo imagine #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk imagines #gojo saturo #jjk imagine #jjk gojo

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mysteryshoptls · 2 months

Text

SSR Lilia Vanrouge - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Lilia: Seeing all these paintings on display, unchanging from when they were painted hundreds of years ago… it sure does bring me joy.

Lilia: Ooh, that painting over there is of the Thorn Fairy's men!

???: The Thorn Fairy's men, huh… Were they really that strong?

Lilia: Epel, so you were checking out this painting too. Are you curious about them?

Epel: Ah, yes! I was thinking they're rather head-empty lookin'… I mean, they look real sweet!

Lilia: Mhm, they are adorable. And despite that, they would always be carrying their weapons so as to respond to the Thorn Fairy's whims immediately.

Lilia: That means they must have been wonderfully loyal and brave soldiers.

Epel: I see… They don't really look like it, but when you put it that way, I can kinda see how cool they are, I guess?

Lilia: Right, right? And it just goes to show how great the Thorn Fairy was to be able to command such men.

Epel: Aren't they just following her because they've pledged loyalty to her?

Lilia: You should take a good look at this picture. See how they're all just filled with character?

Lilia: It's actually extremely difficult to folks like them in line. Isn't it the same with the students in our school?

Lilia: Everyone's so self-confident, they just do as they please. Those that actually listen to others, or follow orders are actually in the minority.

Epel: Ahaha… I'm getting what you're saying, I think.

Epel: Now I wonder how the Thorn Fairy was able to keep her men in line, then.

Lilia: Kufufu… You're a student of Night Raven College, you should already understand.

Lilia: You get them to understand just who is in charge by a show of force! It's the simplest method.

Epel: True… So that basically means that her men followed her because she was super strong.

Lilia: Mhm. But even so, a show of force won't be able to garner true loyalty.

Lilia: The most important thing when leading a legion is to build a trusting relationship with your men.

Lilia: Trust can't just be achieved overnight. I'm sure the Thorn Fairy put in a lot of effort to get to this point, too.

Epel: "Build a trusting relationship," huh… How would you do it if it was you, Lilia-san?

Lilia: THE BEST WAY IS TO SHARE A MEAL TOGETHER!

Lilia: I've actually served meals to the other Diasomnia students, hand-made by me.

Lilia: Everyone was so moved that they were utterly speechless. They couldn't even bring themselves to touch it.

Lilia: When they finally ate it, there was a whole range of reactions, including some who laid themselves out on the dining table, or those who covered their face with their hands. There were some who even burst into tears.

Epel: Wow, your cooking must be amazing!

Lilia: Mhm! Once I set my hand to it, I can make any petulant kid fall in line.

Lilia: Ever since then, I've tried to make more home-cooked meals to try to deepen the relationship between our dormmates…

Lilia: But they would all band together, saying they don't want to trouble me. They're all such humble boys.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Lilia: This is a painting of the Sorcerer of the Sand's companion. His red and blue feathers are bright and vibrant.

Epel: Kinda unusual to have a parrot as a sidekick, huh.

Lilia: Mhm. However, this parrot is said to be able to perfectly imitate human voices and speech.

Lilia: I'm sure that alone was something of use to the Sorcerer of the Sands.

Lilia: Ahh～ how envious. I wish I had a special ability to do something like that.

Epel: Would there even be something worth changing voices for?

Lilia: There's a lot to choose from. The best way to use it would be…

Lilia: FOR A VIRTUAL AVATAR STREAM!

Epel: A virtual avatar stream…? What is that?

Lilia: Oh what, you don't know? Basically, people create avatars that represents them on the internet…

Lilia: And they use those avatars to promote their content of food reviews and let's plays of video games.

Lilia: I didn't know myself, until one of my online gaming buddies recommended it to me…

Lilia: But I think it would be cool to use an avatar to become a different person and chat away with my viewers.

Lilia: Don't you think it would be fun to see my cute little self stream videos in an avatar of a big, strong, burly man?

Epel: Does that mean… I could be strong and burly on the internet, too!?

Lilia: Oh, are you interested too, Epel? Then we should collaborate and both become buff streamers!

Epel: That could be fun! Oh, so this is what you were talking about when you said you wanted to change your voice to become another person?

Lilia: That's right. Normally, you'd need a voice changer to change your voice.

Lilia: But that is just a whole different hassle to deal with. Sounds like there's no end to the amount of equipment you might end up needing for it

Lilia: I keep thinking I'll ask my online gaming buddies who might know more about it, but I get so absorbed by our quest that I keep forgetting.

Lilia: I'd sure love it if I got super popular and was drowning in likes, subscribes, and superchats.

Epel: I don't really get it, but… I think it's fun to think about becoming someone you really want to be!

Lilia: Right? Although, I do have a wonderful voice, you know… It could be a terrible shame to hide it with a voice changer.

Lilia: And if I'm going to use my velvet voice, I guess my avatar should be good-looking to fit…

Lilia: But if I do that, then it wouldn't be much different than my real self… Hrrrm, what to do?

Lilia: Ah…! Does that mean streaming with my real face would be on the table too…!?

Lilia: If I did that, I wouldn't need a voice changer, or the ability to imitate voices. That might be the quick and easy way to solve it.

Epel: Eh, what happened to collaborating with each other using buff avatars!?

Lilia: Oh, right! Ah, I'm getting forgetful in my old age.

Lilia: Maybe I could have two different avatars? Kufufu, this is starting to tickle my want for a new kind of challenge again.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Lilia: This old woman… This is the Fairest Queen in disguise. This painting depicts the scene where she is handing an apple to a princess.

Lilia: Maybe you're more familiar with this painting than I, since you're a student in Pomefiore?

Epel: In the Shaftlands, there is a well-known story about how the Fairest Queen donned a disguise in order to hide her identity.

Epel: I think Vil-san was saying that there's actually a lot of different interpretations for why, but…

Epel: I wonder why the Fairest Queen chose to disguise herself as an old woman?

Epel: If she was just trying to hide her identity, she could have also just chosen a cool and ripped figure…

Lilia: Perhaps she didn't want to frighten the princess. A muscular physique can be overpowering sometimes…

Lilia: And if she is too beautiful, she would also be difficult to approach. So, maybe that's why she thought an old woman would be a good choice?

Epel: Hmmm. I never even thought about how it'd be hard to approach someone because they're "too beautiful."

Lilia: Well, that makes sense for you. Nevertheless, human thought process is both inconsistent and interesting.

Lilia: To tell you the truth, even I had a time in my life where which people would only stare from a safe distance…

Lilia: But then during my travels, sometimes I would get random freebies at markets by people who thought me just a "cute little boy."

Lilia: That's when I realized for the first time, that I AM SUPER CUTE!!

Lilia: Ever since then, I've made it a point to share my cute charm with everyone as much as possible.

Lilia: I'd get things like free carriage rides, or steep discounts while shopping… You do it too, don't you, Epel?

Epel: I don't!! Although, yeah, I have gotten free snacks while running errands before, sure, but…

Lilia: So you're able to reap the benefits without actually showing off…! Mhm, I still have much to learn.

Lilia: But don't count me out yet. Like, even after enrolling at Night Raven College…

Lilia: I'd have classmates who'd save me a seat in the cafeteria, or carry heavy luggage for me…

Lilia: Everyone was just fawning over me ☆

Epel: That's… Aren't they just mocking you, though!? It's like they're looking down on you, I'd never let that pass.

Lilia: Kufufu, you still have a lot to learn, too. There's no harm in using what's available to you.

Lilia: But that is all old news, anyway. The longer I've spent time on campus, the more people have learned the extent of my abilities.

Lilia: There were times that I've completely shut down students from other dorms who lazily tried to pick fights with me, too…

Lilia: By the next semester, everyone was treating me completely different.

Lilia: Now, I'm stuck as "Reliable Lilia-san." And I really just wanted to settle into the role as the "Cute Little Brother."

Epel: That means they all recognized you for your abilities, right? Lilia-san, you're so cool!

Lilia: Kufufu, my cuteness is supposed to be my selling point, but I guess it's not bad to be called cool, neither.

Epel: No way, being cool is much better! It's great to hear a story like that of what could be.

Epel: …Ah, it's gotten pretty late. I'm going to start checking out other exhibits.

Lilia: Mhm, see you. Okay, since Epel has wandered off, I think I'll just meander a bit… Hm?

Lilia: Oh this… This is a painting of fairies gifting blessing to a princess. Heh. I can't help but chuckle every time I see this painting.

Lilia: If they were to gift her blessings of happiness, then they should have gifted her the strength to break her own curse. And yet…

Lilia: They chose to give her beautiful looks, and a beautiful singing voice. What fools

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #lilia vanrouge #epel felmier #twst lilia #twst epel #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: vil

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gureumz · 10 months

Text

the thinker

rating: explicit

member: sunoo

premise: after someone on your dormitory floor dies, your professor, sunoo, seeks out to solve it himself. concerned and bearing responsibility, you offer to help (in more ways than just gathering evidence). what you discover is more than what you bargained for.

notes: MAJOR DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND DEATH, graphic retellings of murders, dark themes, again this is a dark fic pls if you can't stomach it don't force yourself, thriller/suspense, fem!reader, law student!reader, law professor!sunoo, student x teacher relationships (all concerned parties are legal), dom!sunoo, slight breeding, dirty talk, light gagging, mentions of pregnancy (unrelated to the reader), lmk if i missed anything i'm fading

a/n: second of my 1k follower special! this was a doozy. changed a little of the premise because the story just took a life of its own oops ! also a late birthday thing for our boy sunoo. longer than the last one please enjoy (responsibly).

ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: i do not, by any means, claim that this is how the person depicted in this story acts or is in real life. this is a work of fiction with a made-up persona. please consume RESPONSIBLY.

a figure stands silently outside her door.

all is quiet. the occasional laughter is heard, but nothing is amiss.

the figure knocks, bowing his head low. he knows about the eyes. the eyes all over the walls.

she opens the door. effortlessly beautiful. a swan blessed in grace.

the figure embraces her. cradles her in his arms. holds her in his hands.

the swan falls.

---

you couldn't wrap your head around it.

a murder. right down the hall from where you slept, where you studied, where you bathed, so oblivious to the carnage taking place just a few doors down.

you heard the guttural, terrified scream of her roommate. everyone on the same floor did. rushing out of your room, your own mind racing with thoughts of the unthinkable, you see yunjin sobbing on the floor in front of her dorm room.

the one she shared with kazuha.

the door was wide open, light spilling out onto the dim hallway. yunjin was still crying, clutching her stomach as if physically pained by what she's seeing.

"s-someone call security, police, anyone!" yunjin shrieked, hands reaching out towards her doorway, hesitant.

some students have rushed to her side to see what she's hysterical about. all of them recoiled once they saw what awaited them in the room.

"she's dead! kazuha's been attacked!"

you blink, unaware that your heart rate had picked up in the few minutes that you recounted the events of that night.

it's been a week now since the school announced an immediate lockdown of the campus. classes were canceled, no one was to leave their dorms unaccounted for. those who live in the university accommodations were not permitted to exit the campus unless personally picked up by their parents or guardians. those who had family in another district, another province, another country lamented feeling trapped.

'what if the killer comes back? isn't keeping us here the wrong move?'

'what if it's one of the students? they need to question us all. especially those on the same floor.'

you had the same thoughts. but you knew how important the first seventy-two hours of the investigation were. so, for the first three days no one left. every floor of every dorm building was guarded. no one was allowed to move about alone. always in twos or more.

you fidget now, unable to focus on the voice droning from the front of the lecture hall. you raise your eyes to see professor kim, pointing at a slide projected on the screen, explaining something about warrants.

he catches your eye and you immediately shift your focus to his presentation.

it's as if nothing happened. a funeral was held, a memorial erected for kazuha in the lobby of the law building, and eventually, classes resumed.

you've heard whispers that yunjin opted out of university accommodations altogether. no one has seen her since.

"right!" you hear professor kim bellow from the front, clapping his hands together and startling everyone in the lecture hall.

for someone with such an amicably handsome face, professor sunoo kim was a ruthless criminal law instructor. he was particular about punctuality and never entertained any suggestions regarding extra credit. he was, by all accounts, as stiff as a board inside the classroom.

"that's all the time i have for you all today. read up on the cases i gave you because i'll be expecting the digests by thursday," professor kim calls out, gathering his belongings.

a hushed chatter falls over the lecture hall as the students start to leave. there haven't been any memos or reminders put recently regarding the murder but it's still the same. in twos or threes. no one is comfortable moving about alone nowadays.

you start to follow, mindlessly collecting your papers and your laptop, but a figure approaching your desk causes you to stop dead in your tracks.

"________," professor kim's voice glides through your ears smoothly. he smiles down at you as you sink back into your seat.

"hi, professor kim, " you greet, nodding briefly in acknowledgment.

"how have you been doing? you've been uncharacteristically quiet today," professor kim points out.

it's true. you're usually one to participate in discussions, always caught up or ahead on the readings. but with the events of the past days, you couldn't bring yourself to care much about anything.

it's not as if you were particularly close to kazuha. she lived on your floor and you've had small talk with her in the common lounge. nothing ever went beyond polite chatter.

"i think everyone's kind of out of it, professor," you reply. "ever since...you know."

you look up to meet professor kim's eyes and his gaze softens when he realizes what you're referring to. he nods understandingly, watching as the rest of the class files out of the lecture hall.

"and whoever did it is still out there," you say lowly, voice dropping to a whisper.

"i know," professor kim agrees, voice suddenly gruff. you watch as his eyebrows pinch together.

"i've been...looking into it," professor kim continues.

you eye him curiously, your back straightening as professor kim perches himself on the table in front of you. you get a whiff of his perfume; sweet but still subtly masculine.

"the police are on the case, but of course i've worked criminal cases like this before, and with my knowledge of the school and its people...i couldn't help but pry a little," professor kim explains, shifting so he could look at you better from his vantage above you.

"what did you find?" you ask, feeling small under the watchful eye of your professor. he grins down at you, reaching over to squeeze your arm briefly.

"i can't tell you," professor kim deflects. after a few moments, he stands, walking back to his desk now but it's too late. you're intrigued, stomach churning in anticipation.

"you can't or you won't?" you call after him. professor kim stops and glances back at you.

"there's the ________ i know," he says, chuckling. he continues on to his desk, packing up the rest of his things. you watch with steely eyes.

"i don't want any rumors about this. it's a tragic event that has no business being turned into campus gossip that will most likely devolve into some urban legend decades from now," professor kim says pointedly as if berating you. you shake your head, unable to contain your curiosity.

"i won't tell anyone, professor kim, i promise," you implore. you rise from your seat, startling the professor.

he regards you for a moment, eyes traveling down your body and only now do you see professor kim. truly see him.

he towers over you, standing tall at a 5'10 or 5'11 based on your estimates. he dresses crisply, but you don't miss the brightly colored socks beneath his perfectly pressed trousers. you take note of the broad expanse of his upper body underneath the short sleeve button-up he has on.

his face, one that you've looked at two times a week for the past six months, fully came into focus now. striking eyes, a sharp nose, lips that were redder than your own. thicker, too. so thick and plump and always shining with what you could only assume was lip balm.

"sunoo," professor kim says after a moment. "call me sunoo when we're not in class."

you swallow, confused. "sir?"

"wrong," sunoo laughs. "just sunoo, please. i can't be any more than five years older than you."

that, too.

his age. so close to his students' that it's not uncommon for a lot of you to wonder if he'd ever messed around with one of you. you vaguely remember thinking that you wouldn't mind being that person.

"sunoo," you repeat. the name feels foreign on your tongue, as if you're stepping over a boundary you're not supposed to cross.

"okay, sunoo. i promise not to tell anyone what you know about the...the incident."

you catch yourself before you blurt out the word 'murder'. fear grips at you, as if saying the word out loud would bring down bad fortune.

sunoo takes a deep breath, slinging the strap of his messenger bag onto his shoulder. he approaches you again and with you standing, you're relatively eye to eye.

"you know what my consultation hours are. come by right after," sunoo says. you nod and seemingly satisfied, sunoo smiles, walking out the door of the lecture hall.

you linger for a moment before you realize you're all alon. a chill runs up your spine. you dash out of the hall faster than you've ever moved in your life.

---

"they're looking into the professors now. it's kind of fucked up, don't you think?"

you lift your eyes from the book you're reading, regarding your friend in confusion.

"what do you mean 'looking into the professors'?" you ask, scooting closer to hear better.

jake sighs, motioning for your whole table to squeeze in tighter. you scan the library quickly, to see if the coast was clear. your other friends press their shoulders against yours, waiting for jake to reveal what it is he has to say.

"they've cleared most of the students on kazuha's floor. it wasn't one of them." at this, jake turns to you and you nod.

you're brought back to the day after the murder. policemen knocked on everyone's door, questioning and taking witness statements. you had held your roommate's hand the whole time while you were being pressed for answers. you remember crying that night in fear for your own life.

"it only makes sense they widen their search," you supply. "they started with the professors teaching the classes kazuha was taking, correct?"

jake nods. "exactly."

"how is that fucked up?" sunghoon asks from your left, directly across jake. the latter rolls his eyes, tapping the table in mild annoyance.

"think about your own professors. do any of them look like the type to murder you? to want to murder you?" jake says in a whisper-shout. the whole table falls silent, nervous eyes meeting each other.

"no," sunghoon finally answers.

"right?! but what if one of them was capable. we wouldn't know. and if it was one of her professors, i'm sure kazuha suspected nothing, either" jake explains, emphasizing every word with a finger to the table.

you shiver, suddenly overcome with a dreadful fear.

"i need to go," you say, pushing yourself off your chair. you glance at your watch and realize it's time for you to meet sunoo, anyway.

you bid a quick goodbye to everyone before storming out of the library. the hallway seems even chillier than the freezing library. you wrap your arms around you protectively.

---

"you look shaken up. what's wrong?"

you swallow thickly as you shut the door behind you, eyes downcast. your breathing is labored, having run all the way from the library to the building that housed the professor's offices.

you look up to see sunoo standing by his desk, a look of concern on his face. he crosses the room in a few wide strides, fingers gently prying your chin up so you could look at him.

"did you run?" sunoo asks, reaching into his pocket. he hands a handkerchief to you, gesturing at your forehead.

"it's chilly in here. dry off before you get a cold," sunoo advises.

you take the handkerchief, absently dabbing at your forehead. you lean against the heavy wooden door.

"sorry, prof—i mean, sunoo," you begin, trying to steady your breath. "i came from a class and didn't want to miss you here."

sunoo smiles. "i was going to wait for you, anyway."

you meet his eyes but you say nothing, opting to straighten yourself up instead. this is the closest you've been to sunoo, and the way he looks so worried for you nearly threatens a smile out of you.

"you know, we could both get into big trouble for this," sunoo points out, walking back to his desk. he eases himself onto his chair, motioning for you to do the same on one of the two seats provided for his consultees.

you sit, suddenly nervous about what sunoo could possibly have figured out. you watch him rifle through a folder of papers before pulling one out.

"did you know kazuha had a boyfriend?" sunoo begins, setting the paper down and pointing to it. it's a copy of someone's student file.

you lift it to see better and a familiar name is typed at the very top.

yoshi kanemoto.

another post-grad getting his master's in anthropology or some other. part of the post-grad and law school varsity basketball team. he's a friendly enough guy, if just a tad bit shy. he and kazuha haven't been going out long, or so you've heard. you've seen him around your floor a few times and he didn't seem to ring any alarm bells in your head.

"it's always the boyfriend first," you observe.

when violent crimes against women are committed, the first place law enforcement looks into is any present or past relationships.

"accomplished young man, if i do say so myself," sunoo declares. "totally cooperative and was said to be devastated with the news."

"but...?" you ask, anticipating a caveat with the positive introduction.

"reports say they were fighting the night of the murder," sunoo expounds, shrugging.

"was there ever a history of violence? abuse?" you question.

sunoo shakes his head. "none that i've heard. but i was trying to pull some strings at the detective's office the other day. i guess i pulled one that put this whole thing into perspective."

you suck in a breath. "what did you find?"

there was a pause. sunoo purses his lips, exhaling.

"kazuha was nine weeks pregnant when she was killed."

you blink. it takes you a moment to realize what you just heard. you fall back against your chair, a hand coming up to cover your mouth. the hairs on your arm prickle.

"so...you think the fight was because of that. a-and yoshi killed her to get out of the responsibility?" you ask, voice trembling.

sunoo shrugs again. "maybe. maybe not. but it definitely puts kanemoto in a bad light."

you don't say anything, a weight in your chest rendering you speechless. you and sunoo sit in silence for nearly a minute, with sunoo carefully studying your expression.

"no one else knows this. only the detectives and me. and now, you," sunoo informs. "so, i need you to be very quiet about this."

"of course," you immediately agree. "i won't tell a soul."

sunoo smiles sympathetically, pushing himself off his chair. he comes around the desk, moving to sit across from you. he holds his hand out to you, waiting.

you place your hand in his, relaxing as he runs a thumb over your knuckles.

"i'm sorry for dragging you into this," sunoo says, patting the top of your hand with his other one. "but when my top student asks, it's hard to refuse."

you laugh at this, eyes landing on your clasped hands.

"thank you for entertaining my...unusual request," you say, chuckling lightly.

"anything else you've discovered?" you ask, averting your eyes to the papers on sunoo's desk.

"if...i'm allowed to ask," you add, peering back at sunoo momentarily.

sunoo hums, reaching over to the scattered papers on his desk.

"yunjin is taking the rest of semester off, i hear," sunoo says, idly toying with the files.

"smart move," he adds.

you nod, throat thick once again with uncertainty. you stand, pulling your hand away, much to sunoo's surprise.

"leaving so soon?" sunoo questions. you smile, nodding politely.

"it's getting late and i don't really trust the campus nowadays after dark," you reason.

sunoo nods. he gestures for the door and you follow.

"let me walk you to your dorm, then," sunoo offers, smiling. a flash of something passes his eyes and you recognize it as hesitance.

"you don't have to," you automatically answer. you pause, realizing that you'd be walking alone at dusk through paths and hallways where a killer may have potentially walked.

the thought alone fills you with a visceral fear.

"i know," sunoo agrees. he hurriedly rushes to his desk, grabs his phone and keys before returning to your side.

"and i totally understand if you don't want me to, but i would feel much more at ease if i did," sunoo says, eyes pleading.

you nod, already reaching for the knob. "alright."

sunoo seems relieved as the two of you walk out of his office. he locks it before you start your way down the hall.

the journey is quiet, with sunoo's hands in his pockets and yours clasped tightly around the strap of your book bag. the night is chilly as you cross the courtyard to get to your dorm building, with barely anyone out at this hour. the walkways are lighted up to the extreme, illuminating every corner of the campus that the beams of light can reach.

you arrive at the entrance to your building and sunoo turns to you.

"now i can go to bed later tonight without any worry," sunoo says with a smile, eyes shaping into crescents. you can't help but grin back.

"please be careful on your way back," you remind. "and go straight home, if you can."

sunoo chuckles, reaching over to lay a hand on your arm. you inhale, the warmth from his palm bleeding through your thin sweater.

"i will," sunoo reassures. "i'll see you thursday, okay?"

you reach up shakily to grasp sunoo's outstretched arm, your own fingers curling around it.

"i'll see you."

---

somewhere, in a shadowy corner behind a bundle of brush, the figure stands, unmoving. concealed by the darkness, he watches through the windows, etching onto his mind the little details.

someone is playing the guitar next to an open window, puffing out smoke despite the building's prohibition on any narcotic substance. someone else is reading, the thick tome in their lap illuminated by a nearby lamp.

and someone else is merely looking out into the night sky. a pretty bundle of hair on their head billowing in the soft breeze. they seem nervous, shaken. lines appear between their eyebrows. like they're deep in thought.

the figure in the dark watches the thinker a little bit more, entranced by their beauty. eventually, they're satisfied. they stalk off into the night, the image of that one person's hair burned into the back of their eyelids.

---

"now, i understand midterms are coming up so i need you to be more attentive with your grades," sunoo eyes the lecture hall, staring pointedly at everyone's faces.

"don't wait until finals to scramble for that passing grade. i try to be gracious, but it's not a free-for-all," he continues. sunoo closes his laptop and the screen behind him goes black.

"remember, pre-test next week. you have tomorrow, the weekend, and monday to study," sunoo says with an air of finality.

"you may leave," he concludes with a wave of his hand. the room lets out a collective breath.

a few students stay behind as the rest trickle out of the doors, hounding sunoo with questions. he answers, face stoic and eyes focused as he gives curt, direct answers.

you stand from your seat, hovering around your desk, unsure when the others would leave. finally, they seem satisfied enough with their ambush on sunoo and they walk off, letting the door slam behind them.

sunoo spots you and his expression brightens. he beckons you over and you approach him, watching his slender fingers work on the stacks of paper in front of him.

"i must say, i'm excited to read your digest later tonight," sunoo admits, a bashful look in his eyes.

you laugh. "who gets excited to read a case digest?"

"i do," sunoo responds abruptly. "only when it comes to yours, though. you're always thorough, including all the details but organizing them in a way that's quick and easy to understand."

"that is an impressive feat, _______," he adds.

you feel your face heat up, your stomach giving way as if falling to the floor beneath you.

"you give me too much credit," you answer meekly, avoiding sunoo's eyes.

"you're a talented student. and i'm sure you'd be a talented lawyer eventually," sunoo reassures, shrugging on his bag. he steps in front of you.

"do you have a class after this?" sunoo asks. you shake your head 'no'.

sunoo nods, eyes trailing off to the side momentarily, as if pondering on something. he turns back to look at you, his signature bright smile returning.

"do you want to grab a bite together?"

you're taken aback by sunoo's offer, unsure what to do or say. the automatic response making its way up was a polite refusal. but sunoo has done you a favor and you think that this might be him asking for something back.

"are you sure?" is what you opt to say. sunoo's eyes narrow but he's smirking, as if this wasn't what he was expecting you to say.

"yes, i'm sure," sunoo replies. "don't worry about all that ethical stuff. i'm only taking you out for coffee and some snacks. besides, we're done with my class now, aren't we? i'm just plain old sunoo to you."

you giggle. "you could never be plain to me."

sunoo's head bows, his cheeks rounding even more as a blush creeps onto his face. you watch, amused, as sunoo obstructs half of his face with his hand.

"just say yes, _______," sunoo says from behind his hand.

you laugh fully this time, noticing as sunoo's ears turn red as well.

"alright, yes. i'd love a coffee with you."

---

the campus cafe stays open until midnight on most days, but since the incident, they've bumped it down to 9 pm.

it's now 8:30 and no one else was at the cafe but you and sunoo, seated at a booth tucked away near the back. the baristas have started to discreetly clean up for the night, emptying the pastry case little by little, but neither you nor sunoo had the heart to suggest leaving.

"that's some gnarly stuff," you comment as you try to digest the story sunoo had just told you about one case he worked on recently involving one woman literally stealing another woman's baby from her womb.

"it was sad overall," sunoo counters, leaning back in his chair from across you. you feel his legs shift against yours and a shiver runs up your spine.

at some point during the hours you've spent talking, sunoo had managed to sandwich your leg between both of his under the table. he held it there, rubbing against your ankle from time to time with his own, like your very own version of footsie.

"the trauma the actual mother got from it was unimaginable. and as for the woman who took her baby away from her, it was clear that she was not right in the right state of mind. those around her refused to see it as that and withheld proper care for her," sunoo recounts, staring directly into your eyes.

his brown irises seem brighter under the yellow-tinged light of the cafe, dancing with something you can't quite put your finger on.

before you could say anything in response, sunoo reaches over the table to where your hand rests. he takes it in his, slowly intertwining your fingers together.

your heart hammers against your chest. sunoo is still looking at you, silent, but a thousand words poring from his intense gaze.

"i'm parked not far from here and my apartment's just a short drive away," sunoo begins, his thumb drawing patterns onto your palm.

your eyebrows raise, your chest heaving as you take deeper breaths. your body seems to seize up.

is this really happening?

"gonna tell me more about your cases, professor?" you ask, purposely taking up his title again in conversation.

sunoo smiles knowingly, digging the nail on his thumb a little deeper into your palm. your breath hitches and you nearly quiver.

"i can. but i'd like to know more about the stories you have to tell if that's okay," sunoo says, rubbing over the little crescent-shaped dent he made.

"what do you want to know?" you question, raising an eyebrow.

sunoo grins.

"everything."

---

true to his word, sunoo seems to want to know everything.

everything about your body, that is. but he reasons that your body can tell a million different stories about yourself, too.

"like how you like being kissed," sunoo says, pulling away momentarily from your lips as he slams the front door shut behind him.

he presses his mouth against yours once more and you groan, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt. sunoo slips his hands under your own blouse, nails dragging down your back as he guides you to the couch.

sunoo distances himself again, kissing down your neck, still clawing at your back. you squirm, whimpering pathetically.

"your body can tell me what your pain tolerance is," sunoo whispers lowly next to your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth.

"and i have a feeling it's pretty high, sweetheart."

you moan, pressing yourself closer to sunoo. he retaliates by shoving you down onto the sofa. your hair is a mess, your blouse skewed and wrinkled on your body.

"it is," you confirm, quickly pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it to the floor.

sunoo bites his lip, fingers working deftly on his belt. he gets it undone and hurriedly unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulling it down along with his underwear.

"show me," sunoo commands, reaching down to grab your jaw, lining your face up with his half-hard cock.

you sit up, grabbing onto sunoo's firm thighs with one hand to steady yourself. you grab the base of sunoo's cock in the other, pumping slowly. gathering spit in your mouth, you envelop sunoo's length with your mouth, a hiss escaping the man standing above you.

"god, that mouth," sunoo begins, threading his fingers through your hair. "i knew it did more than give me the right answers in class."

you moan around him, peering up at sunoo through your lashes. sunoo's eyes darken as he watches you take more of him, going down all the way to the very base.

you pull back, coughing. sunoo tugs you closer by the hair and you yelp in surprise.

"come on, i know you can do better," sunoo urges.

you wrap your lips around sunoo again, sucking in hard. you start to move, bobbing up and down, taking more and more of sunoo in as you go. he doesn't shy away from noise, moaning and groaning as you repeatedly let his tip hit the back of your throat.

"fuck," sunoo mutters, yanking you off him.

"bend over the back of the couch, baby. keep that cute skirt on."

you wipe the spit from your chin, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. despite your debauched appearance, looking as if close to crying, the wetness between your legs is undeniable. you reach down to pull your panties off, and a dark spot is clearly visible on the fabric.

sunoo takes it from you, grabbing your chin.

"open," sunoo says. you oblige, letting your jaw fall slack. he shoves your panties in your waiting mouth and you gasp in surprise. the sound muffles around the damp cloth.

"bend over," sunoo barks. "don't make me repeat myself."

you lean over the back of the couch, sticking your hips out as far as they would go. you hear sunoo give a sound of satisfaction, his hands moving your skirt up further your body and exposing your ass and drenched pussy.

without a word of warning, sunoo plunges in half of himself and you cry out. you breathe through your nose, your underwear constricting any airflow through your mouth.

sunoo eases the rest of his way in and your eyes roll into the back of your head.

'yes! god yes! feels so good, sunoo!' is what you want to say but it comes out a garbled mess.

sunoo starts moving, shallow at first, as if pacing himself. slowly, he moves more and more of him out of your pussy before roughly thrusting back in. eventually, he finds a suitable rhythm, his hands gripping at your waist tightly.

"feels amazing," sunoo compliments. "my favorite student. so good for me, so obedient, always doing what i tell her to do."

you whine, looking back at sunoo. you'd give anything to see his face up close at this moment.

sunoo leans down, kissing your temple. he reaches in front of you, pulling the panties from your mouth. drool drips from your lips and you sob in embarrassment.

"dirty," sunoo comments disapprovingly. "drooling all over my couch like some whore."

"i-i'm your whore," you croak out weakly. despite the wetness in your mouth, your throat had seemingly dried up.

sunoo seems impressed by this, chuckling darkly. "yeah? you're my whore? mine to use?"

you nod, moaning wantonly as you feel sunoo deliver a particularly hard thrust.

"yes. d-do anything to me, please," you continue. sunoo grunts, movements speeding up.

your head spins, a knot in your abdomen tightening with each drag of sunoo's cock against your walls. you press your face against the couch, sunoo's name falling from your mouth like a mantra.

"gonna cum? gonna cum all over my cock?" sunoo taunts, pressing his chest against your back.

"yes," is all you can reply. sunoo' bites into your shoulder and you shudder, the sting adding to the sensations coursing through your whole body.

"me too," sunoo says. "gonna pump this pussy with my cum."

you whimper pathetically and this eggs sunoo on. his thrusts turn erratic and you're thrown into another level of pleasure.

"sunoo, i-i'm—!"

your sentence is cut off as your orgasm rocks through your whole body, a high-pitched moan echoing off sunoo's apartment walls. he continues to stretch you out, despite the sensitivity, chasing his own high.

"just like that, sweetheart, so tight, so goddamn tight," sunoo chants. a moment later, he shudders, finishing deep inside you, his whole cock buried in your pulsating hole.

soft whimpers continuously escape you, too dazed to form a coherent sentence. sunoo pulls out moments later, replacing his length with two of his fingers. you protest but it falls on deaf ears.

"i know sweetheart, i know," sunoo coos, kissing down the expanse of your back. you slump against the sofa, weak and panting.

sunoo gently moves you to face him, a soft smile on his face, a total contrast to the filthy act you just participated in.

"feel good?" sunoo asks, kissing your nose.

you nod, eyes suddenly heavy. "s'good."

sunoo chuckles, wrapping his arms around you.

"come on, we need to get you cleaned up."

---

the figure observes through glass tonight.

some of the thinker's hair is pinned up, the other half of it flowing down their shoulders. they laugh at a joke.

the thinker's phone goes off. the figure in the dark gives a start, fingertips tingling in excitement.

the figure slinks back into the shadow.

the thinker will finally be theirs.

---

"they made an arrest today."

you look up nervously from your phone, having just read the local news reports.

"the boyfriend, right?" sunghoon continues, holding his own phone up for everyone to see.

just as he says this, the rest of the bar's chatter slowly turns grim and quiet as patrons, mostly students from your university, discover the new development in kazuha's case through their own social media.

"she was pregnant," jake says in disbelief, eyes glued to his screen.

"he probably thought getting rid of them was the easiest way out," sunghoon deduces.

"but on campus? by stabbing her?" you counter. "he could have gone about this differently."

"maybe he panicked," jake offers. "or wasn't thinking straight."

"they're still going to put him on trial so he still has a chance to be proven innocent," sunghoon says.

you shake your head, leaning back in your seat. "i'm not convinced, is all."

jake snickers. "you have a better theory, ms. law student?"

you give him a look and jake holds his hands up in defeat. your phone suddenly vibrates on the table, momentarily distracting you. picking it up, you see a notification.

you're at paradoxx bar right?

you suppress a smile, realizing it's a text from sunoo. you type out a reply confirming your location and he responds just as quickly.

come meet me outside for a bit? i'm in the alley out back.

you take a quick glance around the table at your friends, but it seems as if jake and sunghoon were engaged in another topic. you pocket your phone, clearing your throat.

"i'm gonna go meet a friend real quick outside if you don't mind. i'll be back before you know it," you say, sliding out of your seat, ignoring the curious looks from your jake and sunghoon.

"want us to come with you?" sunghoon asks.

you wave him off. "i'll be fine. it's a busy night. lots of witnesses."

jake snickers at this but a look of discomfort washes over sunghoon's face. you pat his back reassuringly.

"i won't be long, i promise," you say, already walking away.

you exit the bar and the wind immediately whips your hair around. you sweep it out of your face, making your way to the alley between the bar and the building beside it, the designated smoking spot for the bar patrons or any other people passing by.

you're startled to see that it's completely empty. worrying for sunoo, you rush the rest of the way, footsteps bouncing off the walls.

"sunoo?" you call out as you round the corner.

true enough, your criminal law professor is standing there, partially concealed by the shadows, but you'd know that strikingly pale face from a mile away.

"hey," he responds, stepping fully into the glow of the bar's back door light, the only source of illumination in this little corner. he's wearing a black hoodie and black jeans, making him look younger, possibly passing as a student himself.

"i missed you," sunoo whispers just as you step into his arms. he pulls you into an embrace, kissing the top of your head.

"we saw each other at class earlier," you point out, beaming up at him. sunoo chuckles, leaning down to kiss you square on the mouth this time.

he pulls away barely an inch, your noses still touching. his breath fans against your face.

"yeah, but i missed you," sunoo reiterates.

your mind flashes back to the night in his apartment, yet to be repeated. a fire ignites in you at the thought of having sunoo to yourself like that a second time.

"so much that we're agreeing to meet behind dingy bars now?" you tease, kissing a spot on sunoo's jaw.

sunoo hums, a large hand resting loosely around your neck. his grip tightens and you gasp softly, the first hints of arousal appearing within your core.

"exactly," sunoo responds.

you laugh lightly as sunoo backs you up against the bar's back wall, a knee pressing between your legs.

"here? really?" you ask, a hint of amusement in your voice. you wanted to berate him playfully for his choice of a quickie location but his hand around your neck tightens even more.

"s-sunoo—"

sunoo clamps down even harder on your throat and your eyes grow wide. you open your mouth to utter something, a safeword, but you belatedly realize you don't have one. not with sunoo.

"yes, here," sunoo confirms, smiling sweetly. you shake your head, tapping rapidly on his arm to signal that no, you need to stop.

but sunoo digs his fingers deeper into your skin. you gasp, but no sound comes out. your head starts to feel light and that's when you see sunoo pull something out of his back pocket.

the smooth glide of metal against metal reaches your ears. a moment later, you feel a sharp prick on your side.

a switchblade.

"do you get it yet?" sunoo asks, looking down at you with the same look he gave you whenever he asks a question in class. as if quizzing you on details of a case.

"i am the same height as kazuha's boyfriend," sunoo begins, piercing your torso deeper.

you tremble. you feel the urge to throw up.

"he doesn't dress a particular way, either. a mask, a hoodie with the hood up, and plain pants would do it. any camera that would have captured me going in and out of her room would have been fooled."

you claw at his arm now, frantically swiping at any part of him that you can reach, but you know that the oxygen is rapidly decreasing in your body, rendering you weak.

"you want to ask me 'how?'. 'why?'" sunoo continues. you wrap your hands around sunoo's arm that's holding you down instead, scared that any more movement would lead to the knife plunging even deeper into you.

"she was my closest colleague's student," sunoo says. "i saw her exit his office one time and i thought she was the prettiest thing i've ever laid eyes on."

"after you, of course," sunoo adds, kissing your cheek. you jerk away but pain shoots through your head.

you're losing too much air.

"it wasn't hard for me to gather enough information about her. you saw how easily i could weasel information out of the police. the university registrar is a walk in the park," sunoo explains with an amused laugh.

"now, why did i do it?" sunoo repeats. he smiles, placing another, longer kiss to the side of your mouth.

"just because."

what follows next is a blur to you.

you feel pain rip through your torso and you feel it repeatedly, over and over and over again. you want to scream. you have to scream.

but you can't.

the damp ground greets you like an old friend, slamming into you as you fall. there's a pain in your face as you lie facedown, in your head, too, but nothing compares to the burning you feel in your stomach, climbing up and down and all around all at once.

the pain disappears moments later, replaced by a dull, numbing throb. you feel cold but warm at the same time.

you feel sleepy.

you hear footsteps fading somewhere behind you but you don't give them any mind.

at this point, you just want to sleep.

the wind blows. your hair flutters one last time.

and then, you sleep.

#enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #sunoo smut #sunoo scenarios #w: sunoo

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