BlackPink Imagines

❤️‍🔥 The Truth: Rosé

G!P Rosé

Y/n is being driven slowly, frustratingly, and completely mad by her girlfriend, Roseanne Park. They've been going out now for three months, and for the fast-moving Y/n Y/In, their slow movingsex life is the issue. She doesn't like to wait. When she wants something, she gets it.

Apart from her girlfriend, apparently.

For weeks now they've been getting intimate, sure, Rosé had gotten Y/n off several times - and she's so, so good - but Y/n wants to return the favour. Yet each time she goes anywhere near the blonde's sinfully tight waistband, she gets a forceful shove away from it and Rosé runs off to somewhere. Even if they're right in the heat of the moment, half dressedand sweaty, breathing laboured and faces red. It's really starting to irritate Y/n, who, although she's trying her hardest to understand, is getting little in the way of explanation. Whenever she tries to speak to her girlfriend about it, she gets met with a stubborn, uncomfortable silence. So tonight was different. The table was set, food warming in the oven, candles flickering and filling the room with the delightful wafts of strawberries and cream - Rosé's favourite scent. Y/n was going to sit her down to dinner and finally get some answers. Despite wracking her brains for weeks, she hadn't come to a plausible conclusion, except that Rosie was nervous as it would be her first time.

The sound of her doorbell tore her from her thoughts and she all but ran to answer it. She was greeted with the sight of her girlfriend, wearing clothes that were so revealing she wasn't sure that they were legal. Her top was loose, strappy, but revealed her bellybutton and her hipbones that lead down, down to the top of her light blue denim skirt. No wonder Y/n was frustrated when such a delectable woman was all there to see, but not for the taking.

Rosé threw her arms around Y/n, glee written all over her face as her smile lit up the small hall they were in. Returning the hug, the girl had to smother a groan when Rosé breasts pressed against her own, sending her mind down all sorts of routes... Wordlessly, she ushered her girlfriend into the main room and the blonde looked round appreciatively. She knew Y/n was cooking, but not that she was going to go about it with so much effort. Inhaling deeply, her eyes light up as she recognizes the smell - how couldn't she? After all, she only had shampoo, body cream, facewash and numerous other cosmetics that smelled the same way.

"The food's nearly ready, Rosie." Y/n

says over her shoulder as she heads into the kitchen. Rosé takes that as a hint to sit down so she does, eyes raking over the table, set as if it was a high class restaurant as opposed to a front room in Seoul. For a few minutes Rosé keeps herself amused by looking at the cutlery, shined to perfection but still obviously cheap and bought in bulk.

"Ta-da!" The girl reappears, two plates

in her hands, piled high with spaghetti bolognaise that smells absolutely divine, even over the candles. Placing them down, she vanishes for a moment and comes back with a tub of nothing other than breadsticks, a homage to their favourite restaurant. They eat to the sound of Rosé detailing Hank's recent hyperactivity. After that they fall quiet, the only interruption being when Rosé smothers her bolognese with tomato sauce and Y/n screws her nose up in disgust.

How could Rosé ruin something as good as the food she'd worked so hard to made with some sugary, full of crap sauce?

Y/n finishes her food before Rosé and lays down her cutlery, eyeing up the beautiful blonde opposite her at the table. She's going over things in her mind, how should she say what she wanted to say? It's almost impossible to figure out a nice way to say it. Usually Y/n wouldn't care, not one to mince her words in the slightest, but she doesn't want to run the chance of

hurting the other's feelings.

Halfway through a rant of how Hank stole $20 out of her purse, Rosé stops. "What's wrong?" she asks, not dense enough that she doesn't notice Y/n's contemplative expression.