ミ★
seven
❝experienced parties❞
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"Bring your camera," Jungkook ushers me.
Hana, Jungkook, Jimin and I are sitting in my dorm now, doing only what I suppose is getting ready to go out. I don't like this feeling, but I'm pretty sure it's because it's uncommon for me. Music is playing loudly from a speaker, Hana and Jimin are taking turns drinking out of a bottle of wine, and Jungkook is waving a camera in my face. The chaos is supposed to be distracting me, but it's not working.
"The coursework won't be that difficult," Jungkook adds to ease my visible worry, using metaphors because Hana is in the room with us.
I'm staring at myself in my small vanity mirror. The only sanity I've been given this evening is the fact that I haven't gotten an e-mail from any form of administration. It will only be a matter of time, though. Professor Kim is probably sitting wherever he lives right now, wondering how he should go about reporting me.
"Here," Hana offers the bottle of wine to me. It's huge, and very red. I take it from her to be polite, but the moment I place my nose to the spout I pull back away from it.
"I don't think I can drink tonight," I groan.
The smell of alcohol is giving me flashbacks to last time, and I do not want to ever go through that again. My stomach still clenches at the thought of how embarrassing I was. The chilled bottle is placed on my thigh; droplets of water sit on my skin. I twirl my finger around in them, etching little nothings.
"How does this look?" Hana asks the room.
Jungkook glances up from his camera. He is taking side profile pictures of me— discretely. He is trying too hard for this whole "candid" identity thing. I'm not one to critique someone's art, though. I hope my mouth wasn't open too wide while I was doing my mascara.
"It's a bra," he says simply. "Won't it be covered?"
She rolls her eyes at him playfully. "I still care how it looks."
I laugh lightly at her response and it causes my lipgloss to smear slightly above my lip. I guess if people were going to see my underwear, I'd want it to look the best too. I decide to ditch the lip gloss once I place a tissue to my lips. Jimin grabs the bottle from my desk, leaning against the wall while sitting cross-legged on my bed.
"But I don't care," Jungkook tells her.
It's a cute comment. I want to check for the time on my phone again, but I'm starting to realize how much I use my phone now that I don't have it. I sigh heavily and take one last look at myself in the mirror before looking at Jungkook.
"I'm not bringing my camera," I say.
"Why not?"
I frown at his optimism. "Because I'm not good at taking photos."
My fingers grasp at the contraption on my desk and I take it out of its sleeve. Just like every other time I have used it, the buttons seem overwhelming to me. I turn it on and point it at my subject, Jimin, who is now chugging the wine like it's water. I snap a photo, only to check on it and see no potential. The lighting is bad, he isn't center frame, and I can barely see the emotion in his face.
"You can't use that," Jungkook scolds me lightly. He is quick to grab the camera from me, "How old are you, Jimin?"
Jimin is nodding his head to the upbeat music. It's Hana's playlist. "Nineteen," he replies.
"Yeah," Jungkook nods. "He can't be drinking the alcohol in your portfolio pictures."
"Teach me," I whine.
Hana interjects herself physically as she walks over to Jimin in order to take the wine back. I pull my top lip in by my teeth, somewhat cautious of my words around her. She finishes the last of the bottle and throws it carelessly into the trash can next to her bed. Jungkook pays no attention to her; he grabs the camera from me and points it at Jimin.
"What is your theme again?" Jungkook asks me.
"I don't know," I admit with a pathetic laugh. "I like dance pictures."
Jungkook nods at me, but his attention is on Jimin. With the camera close to his face, he stands up straight. It's so natural the way I hear the camera shutter; pictures are being taken and yet Jimin isn't doing much. I am completely lost because I have absolutely no idea what theme I could make out of just dance photos.
"You seem troubled," Jungkook's eyes peer over the camera and at Jimin.
Jimin shrugs. "Stressed, maybe."
"Does dance life cause stress?" Jungkook questions.
Jimin and I share an obvious expression with a slight scoff at the question. To say that dance is stressful is an understatement that even I cannot explain.
My early teens were filled with practice after practice, rehearsals and shows. I had absolutely no life outside of the dance studio. My only friends were just those who I danced with, and even those friendships were never real. It didn't matter to me. The exhilaration and passion I have for the medium could transcend any feeling of friendship or freedom I could ever have. The stress is what motivated me to keep going. There is insanity in the calm, and sanity in the chaos.
"Yeah," Jimin summarizes the journey in a single word.
"Maybe your theme could be emotion," Jungkook suggests.
I purse my lips. "Is he that expressive?"
Jungkook offers the camera for me to look at. My eyes widen at how beautiful he was able to capture a mere photo of Jimin looking at the lens. The twinkly lights from Hana's side of the room give an eerie taste to the photo, and Jimin's earring and necklace are slightly distorted in color. I can tell Jungkook played around with some button on here to fix the lighting. Given this was taken with my camera, I am motivated to take one just like it.
I can't stop my awe from becoming verbal, "this is beautiful."
The music stops and the three of us look over towards the speaker. Hana is standing there with her phone in hand, indicating that we should take heed of the time.
"We should go," she says.
"I've never been to one of these," Jimin whispers to me.
The four of us are now trudging along the quiet and dim lit sidewalk. The houses are suburban, filled with families who have better things to do than to be awake at 11pm. I shove my hands into my jean jacket pockets at the small gusts of wind that happen every so often. My hair is blowing behind me, and the air seems to be traveling directly through my thin, white tank top.
"I've only been to one," I whisper back.
My camera bag is a nuisance over my shoulder but I figure if I'm not drinking tonight, I should try to take some pictures to get ahead on my school work at least.
"You're going to take pictures of me all night?"
"I don't know," I reply. "I'm a sucky photographer. I shouldn't even have the camera with me."
"This means we'll continue practicing on Monday, right?"
I hesitate to answer him. After all I have gone through to try and get out of this class, it's become apparent that there is no way out. I don't think I can handle the stress of missing more classes. I just wish I could erase everything I've done, but I can't.
"Um. . . y-yes," I assure him.
The faint music has already filled the air. There are so many people at the basketball house this time that it is overflowing with college students. Students are hanging all around the grass, the street, and funneling in through a tiny doorway. I smell only what I can assume to be weed, because I've never smelled it before.
Jimin and I are following behind Jungkook and Hana, who seem to be in a pretty involved conversation. I can only hear bits and pieces of it, but the word "parents" had been thrown around a few times. Hana is upset with him about something.
Their conversation soon comes to an end once we make our way inside the house. The music is blasting again, my ear drums are shocked and I'm frazzled easily by the mass of people. I'm looking down at Hana's shoes as I get pulled along inside the house; people are towering over me, jostling my body slightly as I attempt to squeeze by. I can feel Jimin following tightly behind me. There is no release from the crowd, and the kitchen is just as crowded.
The moment we arrive at the kitchen counter, Hana storms off angrily into the void of drunk partiers. Jungkook is irritated, but loses the expression the moment we make eye contact. I can't hear his deep exhale, but I can see his chest move and his stance change.
"Do you want a drink?" Jungkook yells over the music at me.
"Just to hold," I reply.
Jungkook looks at me in puzzles. He doesn't know what I said.
"Sure," I shout instead.
"I do too," Jimin screams over my shoulder.
Jungkook crouches down and sticks his hand into a large cooler. The ice is partly melted, and beers are floating around behind a glossy coating. I see blue, white, silver and yellow labels. He grabs two at random and the cooler snaps closed afterwards. Water is dripping down his arm as Jimin reaches over to grab it. It hits my shoulder and chills my spine. I shutter at the icey feeling— it is so hot in this house.
My fingers grasp the cold can and I pull the top back. I take a sip to see what I have and immediately scowl at it.
"You aren't drinking?" I shout again over the music.
"No," Jungkook mouths. I watch as his two fingers meet his mouth, gesturing that he is going to smoke.
"Cigarettes?" I gape at him.
His smile widens and his two front teeth are protruding cutely. It makes for a great comparison to his massive tattooed arm.
"No, idiot. Weed."
"Oh," I raise my eyebrows.
"What's happening?" Jimin asks me from over my shoulder.
The three of us are being pushed against the counter ever so slightly by the growing number of people. I try my hardest to turn to face him, but I can't. A girl's butt is against me and she is making out with another girl. I lean into Jimin's chest and glance up at him.
"It's so crowded in here," I tell him.
"Yeah," he nods, "I can't even drink this without feeling someone's finger where it doesn't belong."
He starts laughing loudly by the time his sentence is ending. By his red stained lips, I can imagine the half bottle of wine he downed is starting to get to him.
I am about to respond when the music cuts out and only remnants of broken conversations are scattering around the house.
There is someone shouting, "If you aren't on the basketball team, a member of QTF, or you aren't fūcking someone in either of those, then get the fūck out!"
Groans and complaints start to erupt. I look at Jungkook in a panic, given that I do not qualify for any of those options. He shakes his head at me as if the rule doesn't apply. Jimin is looking at me with a startled expression but I give him the same look. I'm relieved that someone is trying to bring order to this madness.
"I'm not kidding!" The voice booms. "I don't give a fūck if you go to Loomis!"
The voice seems to be targeting specific people. Students reply vaguely to his instructions and I find myself taking photos of the students' displeased expressions and Jimin's delighted one. That's artistic, right? Contrast is always artistic.
"That's my roommate yelling," Jungkook tells us.
"Yoongi?" I recollect from the time I was in his dorm. I drop my camera to my waist and look at him.
"He hates when there are too many people. We're celebrating him tonight, though. So I guess he can make whatever rules he wants."
"Thank God," Jimin adds after a long sip of his beer. "Those girls making out were really starting to get all up in my junk."
Jungkook and I chuckle at his observation. It only takes a matter of seconds for students to start leaving the area. Suddenly my hip is no longer pressed to a counter, and the temperature in the room doesn't feel as warm. It's then that I spot Namjoon entering the kitchen. My smile grows and I playfully have my camera out, taking a photo of his growing smile at the sight of me.
"I'm so happy you're here," he greets me.
I can't keep eye contact with him when I look down at my camera; I grow timid. I don't think I will get used to this whole flirting and being cute with each other concept. It makes me cheeks flush too easily.
"Documenting?" Namjoon questions. He is following my stare at my camera.
"It's for a class," Jungkook interjects. "Professor's orders."
I bite on my inner cheek at his reference. It's then that I gather my courage and look up at Namjoon to lean against him. The moment our lips meet, I taste alcohol. I don't mind it; his lips are sweet and gentle. I smile against our kiss and only pull away when the music starting startles me.
"Hana is cursing about you in the garage," Namjoon breathes, glancing to his left at Jungkook.
"Saying what?" Jungkook asks. He doesn't believe him.
Namjoon replies, "you won't let her meet your parents."
"Fūck," Jungkook groans, "I'll be right back."
Jungkook elbows a few people out of the way before disappearing into the hallway. I am too enticed by Namjoon's presence that I barely realize that drunken Jimin has disappeared. I look down at my hands to see that my camera is also gone.
I can't care about that right now— I just can't. I want to have fun. The whole reason for me to be here right now is to forget my responsibilities instead of wallowing in them in my dorm. My mindset is that I need to relax. Everyone tells me this. Well, it is always Jungkook, but he is pretty much everyone right now. He's the only person I talk to.
"You weren't in class yesterday," Namjoon tells me in between kisses. "What was that about?"
"Nothing serious," I lie. He is biting his lip as he watches my expression.
"You want me to make you a drink?"
I ponder on the thought. I can barely drink this beer in my hand, never mind attempting to drink another concoction again. I am too afraid to do that to myself.
"I-I don't think I'm going to drink tonight," I reply. I place my once sipped beer down on the counter.
Namjoon cocks an eyebrow at me. "You don't trust me?"
"No, no," I deny his assumption. "I threw up last week, so. . ."
"Oh, right. It was your first time drinking."
"Yes," I nod at his memory. "I wish I could drink. I am so stressed. . . I missed so much work and so many notes, and now I don't have my phone or my wallet. I'm a mess, really."
Namjoon's hands are surrounding my waist. With him pushing me against the counter, it is a much different feeling than before. I don't feel trapped, I just feel guarded. I place my free hand at the base of his neck and peck his lips again. I like kissing. Now that I'm not so afraid of it, the intimacy is desirable. It helps that Namjoon is so cute.
"I know something that can help you relax," his words are thick, and although he smells of beer, I don't think he is drunk. He must have a high tolerance.
"Hm?"
"Well, I know of a lot of things," he chuckles. "Have you ever smoked?"
My surprised expression probably gives away my answer. It must be a casual thing for them to this. Jungkook told me like it was no big deal. I really need to stop being so lame.
"I don't even know why I bother asking," Namjoon continues to chuckle at me.
I frown at my inexperience and look down at my shoes.
"Eunha," Namjoon says to get my attention.
I regrettably look up at him. His height is still new to me to adjust to, and my eyes are hooded to see him. His fingers catch my chin and he tilts my head back. I'm still frowning, but I'm trying to be cute about it. I saw it in a movie once.
"Are you doing this with other guys, too?"
"Doing what?"
"You know," he says shyly. A small smile presses to his lips and a dimple shows, "sending cute messages, kissing, flirting while being so cute and innocent. . ."
"No," I answer quickly. I haven't. He doesn't count.
"Just with me?"
"Mhm," I press a kiss to his cheek.
Namjoon's facial expression is mysterious, and the butterflies begin. He is staring at me so desirably that I want to cry on the inside. He leans down to kiss me again, and I am so high on my tip-toes that I am able to sit on the counter. He leans further into me and my back presses against the cabinets, his body pushing my thighs open to get closer to me.
I am talking to myself in my head about what I should be doing. It's sad that my only reference can be from movies and television, but I'm bootstrapping in order to make sure I don't embarrass myself too much. My hands are hesitant to go anywhere, so I place them at his belt and pull him closer to me.
"Dude," someone interrupts. Namjoon doesn't react, his lips trailing to my cheek and then down to my neck. He is sucking on my skin.
"Joon," the voice repeats. "You got a lighter?"
He is reluctant to pull away from me. My neck stings from his mouth, but the feeling is thrilling. I'm catching my smile in my teeth as my eyes set sight on the voice.
"Yoongi," Namjoon slightly complains to him as he is searching his pockets.
"You wanna spark too?" Yoongi asks, looking at the both of us. He doesn't care that he has interrupted anything.
"Um," Namjoon glances at me. He holds the lighter in his hand, slowly giving it to his friend. ". . .Nah. Maybe later."
I swallow hard at the question with a stilled expression. I don't know. Will it calm me down?
"I-I want to." I say bravely.
The two men look at me, sharing the same surprised expression. I hop down from the counter with a suddenly tingling neck and slight embarrassment. Yoongi gives me a nod before turning around to lead us to the living room.
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❝three's a party❞
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Namjoon intertwines our fingers and pulls me towards him as we walk.
"You don't have to," he says.
"I-I know," I nod.
My unconfident voice is the opposite of how confidently I seem to be walking into the room. I survey the group of people we join, seeing Jungkook and Hana sat down with a group of others I don't know. Jimin is seated not too far away, still fiddling with my camera and taking swigs from a massive green bottle.
I'm taken away from my sightseeing by the feeling of Namjoon pulling me to sit on his lap. I'm awkward at first, but somehow manage to fall into the crevice of the couch along with his body.
Jungkook is beside me and Hana is with him, talking to girls I don't know. I don't think Jungkook minds not being talked to. He sits contently, his eyes watching everyone as if just curious. It isn't long until he pulls out a thin, rolled, white cigarette looking object. It's a joint.
I hear a lighter flick from my left and I look. Yoongi is lighting one. He takes two hits before offering it to Namjoon. They're long, dragged out hits that earn a great deal of smoke to leave both his mouth and nose. I watch with careful eyes at even the way he holds it. I will not embarrass myself.
Before Namjoon can offer it to me, Jungkook hits my thigh for my attention. I look at him, confused; he is offering his joint instead.
"Smoke mine," he tells me.
"Does it matter?" I lean closer for him to hear me.
He doesn't give me much of a choice when he places the unlit joint in my mouth. I am cross eyed to watch him flick the lighter on. The paper is smooth against my lips and I can feel my saliva dampening it.
"Yeah," his attention is on the lighter.
The end of the joint lights and I look at him with pleading eyes. Help me, idiot. I am trying to give him a look that signifies this, but he doesn't do much and my panicking is starting to settle in. I take the small object away from my mouth quickly and Jungkook shakes his head at me, so I put it back in my mouth.
My mini-panic attack ends when I try to copy what I watched Yoongi do. I take the joint by my pointer and thumb, coughing the moment I exhale. The music is loud and people don't notice. I hand it back to Jungkook.
"You good?" Jungkook asks me.
My chest heaves and the taste in my mouth is bizarre. My head suddenly feels weightless and I widen my eyes. Jungkook carelessly has the joint in between his lips as he is rolling another one on the table.
"I-I think so," I reply lightly.
Namjoon's hands distract me from wanting to take another hit. His lips attack mine with a disperse of kisses and we're giggling against each other. His eyes are glossy and swollen looking now.
Jungkook holds out his hand to offer the joint back to me, and I take it happily. Every instruction that I've ever been given to tell me drugs are bad are now swirling in my mind. This isn't a good idea. I take another hit, but this time I don't cough. My chest fills and the white smoke leaves my nose.
Jungkook seems impressed. He is talking to me but I can't hear him. I think I'm shouting at him, but he only continues to laugh. I start laughing too. Namjoon's hand on my thigh is tightening in touch and I lean into his chest. His lips are at my neck again, the room is getting hazy and smoke is filling it. I can hear mutters and laughter beyond the music.
It isn't long until I'm trying to make somewhat of conversation with Yoongi. He isn't very talkative.
"We're celebrating me getting paid," he says. Smoke is leaving his lips with every word. "Isn't that pathetic?"
"No," I assure. "The orchestra in that play is insane. You must be a genius."
My words do not sound like me. My mood has been lifted up to the sky and I think this is the affects of what I'm doing. I have no concept of my surroundings, my depth perception is close to none and I can barely keep my attention on Yoongi as he speaks.
His tone is laced with surprise. "You know about L'ange de Noël?"
"Of course," I reply. "You're composing for me. I'm auditioning to be Celeste."
The words are leaving my mouth so freely that I can't filter them. Yoongi's deep set eyes are staring at me, observing my face in somewhat of an inspectional manner. I almost fall forward into him, but Namjoon's hands catch me.
"Open your mouth," Yoongi is leaning towards me.
"What?" I blink.
"Just do it," he is chuckling lowly.
My mouth falls open and I watch with furrowed brows as he takes a long drag of his joint. I'm tempted to start counting how many seconds he is doing it, and then I'm waiting again as he sits with the smoke building up in his chest.
I'm hit with a gust of smoke from his lips, and he blows it into my mouth.
I don't have time to react, because Yoongi leans in and presses his lips to mine. I place my hand at his chest to push him away, looking at Namjoon worryingly. Smoke leaves my lips and I cough.
"It's okay," Joon's lips are at my earlobe. "Keep going."
What is wrong with me? I am enticed greatly by his words, and am feeling very excited for some reason. Yoongi is staring at me with his dying joint in between his lips. When I glance around the room for a reason to protest what I want to do very badly, I don't see one. How long have I been on this couch? The group of people once around us are gone; only a handful are left. Did I lose a concept of time too?
I lick my lips and look back at Yoongi, who is now even more attractive to me now than before. How? I am basically begging in my head for him to kiss me again, but I think I'm saying my thoughts aloud because his tongue is in my mouth before I can even blink.
With my eyes closed, reality doesn't seem to exist. The taste in my mouth is one I've never tasted before. My lips feel burnt and numb as Yoongi is kissing me, so harshly, pulling me towards him as he falls back into the couch. I'm on top of him, but I want to be. My hands are feeling down his chest, across his shoulder- blades and squeezing at his arms. Instinctually I press my hips into him and his mouth opens, groaning from the back of his throat in encouragement. That's when it hits me. This is that feeling of horniness I've been waiting for.
His palms are at my āss, guiding my body against his crotch to satisfy the both of us. When his lips are on my neck and my head falls to the side, I peek a look beside me to see Namjoon just watching. When we make eye-contact he pulls on my arm to get me off of Yoongi.
"Should we go upstairs?"
"Yes," I am panting. This is so much fun.
Namjoon's smile is jaded but not due to a lack of enthusiasm. His thoughts are being influenced, but it's no secret that a lot of time has passed on that couch. I follow him when he stands and the room isn't spinning like when I was drinking. It seems more friendly and I want to giggle at something so badly.
I feel Yoongi hot on my tail when we walk up the stairs. Namjoon's hand is holding mine gently, not pulling me whatsoever. I'm greeting people happily on the steps as if I've known them my entire life. My laughter and giddiness continues all the way until it is just the three of us in a bedroom. There is a small lamp on, causing shadows to appear and facial expressions to be somewhat masked.
"I got so hard from that," Yoongi chuckles lowly to Namjoon. They are speaking so softly and quietly. I cover my mouth with my hand at the vulgar language he is using.
"It's because she's just amazing," he replies, pulling me in to kiss my forehead.
His hands travel from the small of my back to my butt, pulling on my jeans to get my body against him. This time I'm with Namjoon as we fall into the bed, and I am vaguely aware of Yoongi's presence elsewhere. Namjoon's lips are all over me, moving down my neck this time and towards my breasts. I am quick to discard my jean jacket with the accumulating heat in the room and in between my thighs.
"Is this okay?" Joon questions me. He wants to pull my shirt above my head.
"I-I. . . Um. . ." I struggle enough as it is for words, but now it is even worse. My eyes don't know who to focus on— Namjoon right in front of me, or Yoongi, who is now seated in a chair by the television across the room.
"I. . ." I am tugging on my own shirt. "I've never done anything like this before."
"It's okay," Yoongi coaxes. "I just want to watch."
I'm breathless at the thought of what he is saying. My eyes flicker to Namjoon and by the expression on his face, he knows what I mean.
"N-No," I caution him. "I've never done anything before."
Yoongi muses at my words, "you almost just made me come from dry sex. That's something."
"We won't do anything like that," Namjoon whispers sweetly.
My heart is beating erratically. With Namjoon hovering over me, and all these thoughts about how good it felt to be against Yoongi, I really don't want to stop. I'm thankful that his lips return to my skin and I am able to relax into the bed. It feels too good to want to stop.
With a hard swallow and small encouraged incentive from my subconscious, I lift my shirt over my head. Yoongi is palming himself as Namjoon's lips are on my skin again. My head falls further into this stranger's pillow, not knowing what sensations to expect as his tongue is in between my breasts and slowly traveling down my stomach.
"Do you want me to stop?" His breath is fanning against my lower belly.
"N-No," I mutter over my pounding heart.
His fingers pull at my jeans and it's what seems to be in a mere seconds that I'm completely exposed on my lower half. I have tingles racking up and down every nerve ending in my body in anticipation. My toes are curling and I can't control my moans when his mouth is in between my thighs.
"Do you like that?" he murmurs.
"Y-Yes," I answer breathlessly. My thoughts are traveling along with the faint music from downstairs.
"Say it louder," he coos gently.
"Yes," I moan loudly.
My eyes are squeezed shut at the feeling of his tongue getting closer to my inner thighs. My breaths are becoming audible, but I don't stop them. Yoongi is breathing somewhat heavier than before and I can hear his small movements from beside us. Is this weird? Do people do this?
I don't have much time to think about it. Namjoon's slick tongue is against my core and it's a feeling I can not replicate by myself. My fingertips are in his hair, urging him to continue as I'm nodding to the air in this low-lit room. I'm furrowing my eyebrows as if not understanding the immense pressure and tingles erupting from just his tongue.
"Oh. . ." I am crying out lowly in pleasure. His breaths can be heard as his mouth works slowly, teasingly against my clīt, sucking gently and smoothing out. I'm arching my back and my moans continue, breathless in every action that is happening.
"Let it out, baby," Yoongi is grumbling under his breath. I can hear his slow hand movements lowly from where he is sitting. Oh my goodness.
I can tell something is wrong. My pleasure doesn't continue, I am stuck in this place where I do desperately want him to continue, but harder. My cheeks flush and I bite down on my lip to stop my influenced mind from giggling. I can't ōrgasm. I am getting more waves of pleasure from listening to Yoongi's grunts than from Namjoon's gentle way with his mouth.
My drugged out head needs to be put in perspective. I will not laugh at him. I'm not that kind of person. I force myself to calm down and focus on his tongue again, the spots he is sucking, and playing with so tenderly. I continue to think about his touches, kisses, the way he leans his body against me and his height.
"Y-Yes, yes. . ." Breathless again.
I squirm slightly when I feel his fingers near his mouth. My jaw drops from the shock and I am moaning again, louder. Yoongi's heightened breathing is encouraging me. I'm thinking about Namjoon's touches and the way he caresses me. The times in which his hands were at my thighs, towards my hips, and then to my waist. The way his hands manipulated my body to extend my leg, and the feeling of his chest heaving as I lay my palm there. The gazing look of intimidation in his eyes every time I made a successful turn in front of him— him holding me en pointe. . . those thighs. His wide eyes and cute smirk, and the way he looked at me with such contempt. He is often staring at me. His smooth fingers moved my jaw forcibly to show him my side profile and asked me not to be so coy and shy. I'm hearing my name again. The way he says it.
"Please," I cry. "Y-Yes. More."
My thoughts go on and on in an endless list of torture and before I know it, I am completely devastated and spent at the cost of all energy. I'm panting and can barely move from the bed as his kisses run down my thigh again. I don't want to open my eyes. Namjoon is kissing me again, but my energy is gone.
"Well, fūck," Yoongi grouses. "We're going to have to wait a few minutes."
"No," Namjoon says to him. "We aren't doing anything more."
There is no more dialogue exchanged between the two of them, and with my eyes closed I can't see what's going on. I hear the door open and close, but by the sound of Namjoon rustling around to get off the bed, I deduct that Yoongi left the room. I can barely catch my breath, and only open my eyes once I've gotten a hold on my raging mind.
"Um. . ." I mumble. I've realized that I'm typically expected to do the same back. I'm grateful that I was able to stop myself from going on a tangent about how I've never seen a penis in real life before when he speaks.
He releases an amused breath. "It's okay."
I sit up lazily and grab for my underwear and jeans. I wonder what time it is. Namjoon turns the light on and I squint over the abrupt brightness. I look around the room to see that we are in an average bedroom. There is nothing peculiar about it. I only know this is his room because the sweatshirt he wore earlier today is hanging on a hook inside the closet. The sky is a light shade of purple. It must be approaching early in the morning then. . .
"Are you okay?" Namjoon pulls me out of my thoughts.
"Oh. . ." I smile awkwardly. "Yes. I'm great."
"You can sleep here," he offers.
"I think I might just have to," I smile greedily and burrow myself further into his pillow. All I want to do is eat a bag of chips and a bucket of cookie dough.
He pulls his shirt over his head and drops his jeans before joining me. "You're so adorable, you know?"
"Thanks," I gush at him.
"Was it weird with Yoongi here?" He asks me hesitantly.
"No," I reply honestly. I don't know if it's my influenced thoughts saying this or not.
You want to know what is actually weird? I just ōrgasmed to the thought of my Professor dancing with me as opposed to a man eating me out.
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I will most likely have to edit this a bit tomorrow haha. I am so impatient to update for you guys when I have the time!! ♡ I hope you enjoyed! Please vote, it helps me out jus a lil. love u.