Summary - When Y/N does Ethan a favor, he finds out more about her and decided to make her feel better.
Warnings - dirty talk, cursing, possible triggering backstory (not sure)
A/N - okay, donât hate me for cutting it off. there will be a second part to this (along with hoodies in the future) and yes, it will be at a later time as I have other ideas I want to act on before continuing these two. YES, the second part WILL contain the smut that I intended to have in this chapter, but Iâm not completely sure how to write those kinds of things yet and would like to learn more about it before I decide to pursue that. also, I enjoy having a backstory to each of my characters that you guys imagine yourself as in most imagines (nothing too deep though) because I feel, personally, there needs to be a deeper meaning to how the character acts. love you guys, enjoy! X.
At a young age, it was just you and your mom. Still to this day the vivid, flashing memories of your father leaving without so much as a goodbye was embedded in what seemed to be every corner you turned. Ever since then, your mother always told you itâs the people you love who hurt you the most, and you believed exactly that, having been given such a perfect life lesson of it just at the age of six. Youâd also decided that itâs only yourself who is to blame because it would be you who allowed yourself to look forward to seeing them, it was you who allowed them to be apart of your everyday life, apart of what you loved, your personality, and your entity.
At that same age, you learned to love books. The first one you read by yourself was the same one your father used to read to you every night before he would leave for his shift, laughter filling the room every time he used his fingers to shut your eyes gently, urging your younger self into a deep slumber. You didnât start reading more complex books until the second grade, when you took up reading Harry Potter, amazing your teacher and the librarian when you managed to finish it by the end of the day. Ever since then, youâd had your soul set on being an author.
Today, present time, you ambled down the cracked concrete that made Seattleâs sidewalks with a firm grip on the bag you held against your chest. Today, of all days, youâd ignored the news â despite living in the most oscillating state when it comes weather â and decided that youâd take comfort in trusting the light blue skies and the rapidly increasing temperatures to determine itâd be a nice day to take a walk to the library. Though, as the clouds began to gather in the sky and that beautiful light blue began to shelter itself behind a large cumulonimbus, you had sighed to yourself in the realization that youâd been foolish to think for a second that the weather of the rainy city you called home could be trusted.
You quickened your pace, looking aimlessly at the apartment building you entrusted with all of your belongings. You held the bag that adhered securely to the new collection of books youâd checked out and let out a long breath before pushing through the front doors of the complex. Throwing a warm smile towards the desk manager, Bosley, you decided to take your chances with the stairs as the timeworn elevator seemed to break down every other day. Youâd been a victim to the small shaft many times in the five months youâd been living in the small apartment.
Once you reached your door, you fished in your pockets for a few moments before your slim fingers caught onto the cool metal of your apartment key, held captive by a small chain baby blue clip chain. You were more than thrilled to finally be home, you had sensitive feet so a short thirty-minute walk gave you countless blisters â and youâd made the awful decision to wear flats. However, despite your previous thrill, when you entered your apartment you were met with the familiar stench of fresh paint, it much stronger than usual. This urged a frown on your face.
Your feet carried you further into the small flat and your eyes broadened at the sight of your roommate, Ethan, coated in the paint from what seemed to be his latest project for school. He looked beyond frustrated, his heavy breathing and clenched fists a clear sign of that.
âEthanâŠâ you spoke gently, moving behind him and putting a small hand on his compact back. He let out a long breath, clearing his throat immediately afterward. âWould you like some help?â
Your question seemed to irk him further as he pushed you away, standing to his full height. Ethan was always tall, even when you met him just a few months ago and decided heâd be your roommate, but heâd grown a substantial amount since heâd lived with you.
âIs that an actual question?â he asked shortly, his attitude making you flinch and step back lightly, but he took little to no notice to this. His short temper was always consistent.
You gave a small shrug, setting your bag on the leather couch heâd picked out. You agreed since he, as an art student, always had an eye for what did and didnât look good.
He narrowed his eyes at you slightly, huffed, and threw his paintbrush on to the half ripped white paper. Every unfinished painting he had scattered across the tarp looked amazing â just like everything else he flicked a paintbrush against â but he always critiqued his work too much, and if he didnât find it appealing heâd refuse to finish. You learned that quickly.
âFuck!â he growled lowly, glaring harshly at his work. âIâm out of fucking paper,â
You frowned from the same position in the room youâd been before, tilting your head. âI-I have some paper in my room,â you reassured, hoping lined paper would work.
âLined paper wonât work, Y/N, you know this,â he hissed, rolling his eyes. You know heâd always been on the softer side for you due to your endless attempts to help whenever he needed it, but when it was about his art, not even you could stop him from being bitter.
âSorry,â you frowned, grabbing your books once again and heading down the hall to your room, across from Ethanâs â the distance didnât necessarily prevent your innocent ears every time he brought a girl home, though. You set the two books on the desk that sat under your window, turning on your reading lamp.
When you sat down you felt the relief in your feet and kicked your shoes under the opening in the desk. You leaned back, not enough to tip the chair, and relaxed. You let your eyes close, them burning slightly from your exhaustion. After studying all day and then taking a walk just before the sun was to set â obviously your view had been hindered on account of the clouds â you were beaten and wanted nothing more than to sleep until you attended your next class on Monday, giving you four days to relax and read your new found books.
Just as you began to drift, a loud slam sounded from where you previously stood when you returned home, urging your eyes to snap open. You, being the nice person youâd always been, got up without question to check on him. However, you knew today you wouldnât catch a break.
Your feet carried your drowsy body from your dimly lit room, back towards the living area where Ethan still stood. âI canât find my keys,â he mumbled more to himself than to you, picking up the batteries from the broken TV remote heâd thrown onto the laminate harshly.
You chewed on your soft lower lip, sighing softly. âOur neighbors hate us, Ethan,â you spoke feebly, saying âusâ to make him feel better, as they loved you but couldnât stand him in the slightest.
He rolled his eyes at your comment. âIâm so fucking screwed, Y/N,â
âCanât you improvise for paper, or like⊠walk to the store?â
âItâs raining,â he let his eyes roll back for the second time, grabbing his stack of papers heâd thought werenât good enough and threw them into the trash that sat just beside the balcony door.
You shrugged lightly, knowing he wouldnât get to the store until maybe tomorrow afternoon or whenever he found his keys. Youâd let him borrow your car, except the junk pile, had been in the shop for two months.
âAny other ideas?â you shrugged in question, hoping maybe you or he could muster up even the slightest idea as to how he could finish this project in time for his class tomorrow night.
âNope,â he stated solemnly, having calmed down from his raged actions.
You didnât dare apologize again, knowing he hated when you apologized for things that didnât come close to being your fault. You left out a small sigh of frustration, running your small hand through your hair. You felt bad for him, just like you always did when he was upset.
Despite him telling you multiple times that he âwasnât a huggerâ or âdidnât do lovey-dovey thingsâ you decided to go by your momsâ rule of âone hug a day keeps the frustration awayâ. So, with that thought, you took a big step forward and wrapped your arms around his side-cut tee ridden torso, laying your head flat on his chest and closing your eyes.
You ignored how he tensed, rubbing his back comfortingly. Ethan had always stressed how important art was to him, and you couldnât imagine your life without reading or writing so you felt his pain to a T. After a few moments, his bulky arms wrapped around you, squeezing you flush against him.
The feeling of his solid torso against you made you feel warm inside, forcing a blush to your face. If it wasnât clear before, you knew more now than ever why girls loved him. Though, before youâd thought it was his mindset more than his body.
You went to pull away, but with no argument from you, he held you tighter against him. You felt him sigh softly, laying his chin on top of your head. You knew heâd closed his eyes and so did you, squeezing him back as tightly as you could.
âYouâve inspired me,â he said before pulling away reluctantly. You tilted your head slightly.
âHow so?â you questioned lightly, your hands laying flat on your chest before you dropped them to your sides awkwardly, awaiting his answer.
âI know what I can use as my canvas now,â he grinned and began gathering his painting supplies. You furrowed your brows at him, watching as he moved all his things into his room, setting it up on the floor. He laid the tarp down and laid his paints out, setting his brushes up in water for each color.
âWhat are you using?â you stepped back as he rushed out of his room once he felt comfortable with how everything was set. You followed him slowly, your eyebrows never moving from their arched state.
A serious look sheltered his smile as he looked for cheaper pillows, but once he did his large body rushed back into his room and laid them out for what seemed to be a person.
âYouâre painting on yourself?â
âNo,â he spoke once he was fully comfortable with how the set up looks. He huffed out a breath of relief before looking at you with deliberate eyes, âIâm painting on you, Y/N,â
Your eyes broadened, waiting for him to laugh at his words, showing theyâd only been a joke and that he would draw on a cardboard piece or something. However, he held his humorless expression.
âEthan,â you said shakily, watching as he grabbed a plain white t-shirt from his closet and placed it in your hands.
âBabe, I promise itâs just the project,â he assured you, tucking a loose curl behind your ear before sending you off to change. You felt your cheeks burn, them turning a deep shade of crimson as you moved into his bathroom to change.
He didnât give you much a choice, not that you wouldnât do it. Ethan was subject to your weird writing fanatics many times and the least you could do was be subject to him.
When you changed, leaving yourself in your underwear, bra, and his long white t-shirt, you exited the bathroom with the clothes youâd previously worn in your hands. You couldâve sworn his eyes darkened at the sight of your small frame more exposed than heâd ever seen it. To add to the burning feeling in your stomach, he used his teeth to torture his soft pink lips, staring at you.
âI-Iâm ready,â you stammered in the slightest bit, moving to where heâd laid the pillows to get comfortable.
Ethanâs eyes followed you and he refused to speak until he realized it was getting late and that you were probably tired and wanted to get some rest after the long day you had, so he got to work.
The tickling feeling of him gliding the white shirt up urged a giggle past your delicate lips, earning a grin from the boy beside you. He looked up at you briefly, dipping his paintbrush of choice into the black that laid next to you, and began outlining.
âFuck, this is so much better than paper,â he said simply, smirking to himself at the sight of you wiggling your feet and pressing your soft thighs closer together.
âAnything to help,â you let out a shaky breath, trying your best to relax as the cold brush flicked expertly against the gentle skin of your stomach.
Moments in, Ethanâs breath gradually got heavier, the air delicately breezing against you. You somewhat shifted at the cool air that forced goosebumps to surface, looking down over the curve of your breasts to try and see whatâd heâd been doing but, to your dismay, heâs already gotten to the top of your thighs where the work his brush left could no longer be seen.
âI-I never asked you,â you fluttered your eyes closed as he progressed to outline the middle of your thigh before picking up another brush and began coloring your skin in many different shades. âHow long have you been drawing?â
He glanced up at you for a second through his lashes, shrugging in answer before speaking, âHad to be around nine,â he answered simply, doing all he could to focus on the art and not devouring your innocence right there.
âWhen did you start reading and writing?â he carried the conversation further with a focused expression.
âHad to be around six,â your lips curled slightly as you mimicked his wording, earning a small puff of air from his nose as he laughed.
You frowned at his question, no longer finding the continued conversation enjoyable. âMy dad used to read me books,â you shrugged against the pillow as he looked up at you, pausing his movements. âHe kind of just left, ever since then, Iâve never stopped reading,â you answered.
Ethan had never been a remorseful person, not once in his life. However, for some reason, upon seeing you tense at the subject with a slight glisten in your eyes, an indication of tears, he wanted nothing more than to be there for you and comfort you and hold your hand, do all of those things while reassuring you itâd be okay.
âY/NâŠâ he trailed off which you shook your head to immediately.
âNo,â you choked slightly, slanting your body slightly to grab his brush and place it back in his large palm. âJust finish, Ethan.â
He eyed you warily for a few moments, shaking his head. âI wonât force you to speak on it,â he started. âSit up, the top is dry,â he said, pulling your hands gently to sit you up. His dark hazel eyes connected with every part of your body as you did so before finally looking you in the eye.
âListen,â he scooted closer to you, placing a hand on your untouched thigh heâd not yet gotten the chance to paint. âI started painting at nine, the story isnât merely as motivational as yours-â you cut him off.
âJust because you think itâs not as âmotivationalâ doesnât mean itâs less important, E,â you spoke sternly, cocking a brow at him.
He huffed before shaking his head. âLet me finish,â he said calmly, which was surprising as the kid hated nothing more than to be cut off mid-sentence.
âI was saying, Iâm glad that you have a motivation to your work - which Iâm sure it is even though you refuse to let me read them - but I really, really wish it wouldâve been something else that motivated you,â he sighed. âI donât want you to have this hurt, Iâm not completely sure why this bothers me so much, maybe because youâre so fucking caring and I should be the one who goes through this endless feeling considering Iâm a fucking dick, but no, itâs you, the sweet and innocent and kind and caring Y/N who has to feel this every day of your life.â
You stared at him once he finished, him taking a long breath in as his words were consecutive. You stared at his lips the whole time he spoke, in taking his words in a more perceptual way, yet still imagining how the soft and delicate pink flesh would feel on your own.
In this moment, you were sure he read your mind because just after the thoughts seemed to be slipping from your memory and your lips had been shaping the words to your response, his lips pressed against yours. The same soft and delicate pink lips that would seldom keep you up at night, forcing your mind to imagine all the things they could do. Other than speaking to you of course.
You freeze, feeling his large hands wrap around both of your thighs. This resulted in the complete wrecking of his art project but you seemed to mind more than he did as you went to grab at his hands to prevent any further damage, but at this, he just gripped on tighter. The paint smeared across your soft skin, coming up on his hands also.
Your back hit the pillow behind you as his heavy body hovered above yours, proceeding to lay between your spread legs as he wouldnât allow them to close. A burning desire was felt where he pressed himself against you, a low growl emitted against your lips from the very depths of his throat. The motions were fast, especially the once against your neck in which he decorated it with the lust he had for you.
Your fragile hands pressed against his chest and forced him away. You didnât want to stop, in fact, the arousal that laid in every cell of your body was yelling in protest, but you needed to breathe. Ethanâs fingertips grazed down his messed artwork slowly, his breathing still ragged, the puffs of air coming from his parted lips.
âI want to read you,â he spoke lowly. âI want to read your body as it reacts to my simple touches, I want to feel your legs tighten around my head as I press my tongue deep into that sweet pussy of yours, and fucking hell, I want you to beg me to stop, not being able to take the feeling of me making you feel so fucking good a second longer.â
His eyes showed all signs that he wanted to devour you there, and you wanted him to so bad. The aching between your legs was unbearable, almost painful, and your body perked at the thought of him merely breathing by you.
âDo you want that?â he inquired darkly, tilting his head cockily. There was no answer as to how you two had gotten where you were so fast but you showed no signs of regret.
You nodded, your throat too dry to form words. Ethanâs paint covered hands grabbed tighter onto the thick flesh of your thighs, pulling you closer to him, your head off the pillow and on the white tarp heâs laid out. He dipped his head down to press a slow kiss close to your ear.
âSpeak,â he cooed, pressing his lips to your neck for the second time. âTell me that you want me to,â
âI-I want you to,â you croaked feebly, urging a smirk to form on the boysâ lips. You couldnât see it, but you could feel it.
âAnything for you, princess,â
Probably another piece of trash, but enjoy! x.Â
Feedback on what I could do better is much appreciated!
