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here2bbtstrash · 2 years ago

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look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)

genre: slow burn enemies to lovers hatefucking coworkers au, smut, angst

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: your asshole coworker min yoongi has made it his personal mission to ruin your life.

word count: 16k 🙈

contains: explicit sexual content 👀 literally jumps immediately into it (well.... you'll see 🤭) so buckle up!!! also features: hotel drama, reader being v dumb in classic reader fashion but she gets there, a whole lotta tension and angst and misplaced anger, some new friends!!! and yes they're 3 idols see if you can figure out who 🤪, erotic bed sharing and handholding lmfao, probably the most drinking that has happened in a chapter yet (which is saying a lot honestly), of course the GRAMMY RESULTS.... oh yeah and yoongi in glasses, yoongi in a suit, yoongi playing piano, yoongi almost getting in a fight, yoongi rapping, yoongi WEARING CAT EARS (yes these are all warnings!!!!!! 😩) - ok and here are ur smut specific warnings: semi-public sex (mile high club anyone ✈️), cunnilingus, fingering, sex dreams, nipple play, dirty talk, reader has a voice kink 🥴, clit stim, unprotected sex AGAIN 💀, she squirts again don't @ me lmao, aaaaand some lovely mouth/throat fuckin 🫡

A/N: i feel like i have nothing to say that isn't just overwhelming gratitude to you all for being here 🥺 so i'll keep it short!!! sit back and get comfy bc this one's a lot, here we go y'all..... you ready?? 💜

A/N 2: as of 5/27, this chapter has been updated to remove the instances of anti-asian discrimination. i want to expressly state how sorry i am to those who were hurt or otherwise upset by the original content. please know that i mean it when i say i am fully committed to listening and doing better moving forward. 💜

an eternal thank you to @haliiimede and @monimonimoon for their help betaing!!!

read on AO3!

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

~*~

You don’t know how you let Yoongi talk you into this.

You honestly can’t remember, at least not right now, not with your ass perched on the edge of the sink counter and his hands making quick work to tug your sweats and underwear down and off, one ankle at a time.

The place is cleaner than any airplane bathroom you’ve ever been in, and certainly much less cramped. First class really spares no expense, you’ve learned. It’s an upgrade Yoongi made for both of you at the check-in counter unprompted, his only explanation mumbled into the rim of his iced Americano once you’d settled at a table in the fancy lounge: “Economy seats fuck my back up, and I figured if I left you behind you’d push me into LA traffic at your first opportunity.”

You might still do it, if only because he’s managed to convince you to do this again. Weren’t you supposed to be mad at him?

“I’m starting to think you have a bathroom fetish,” you murmur, not quite managing to keep your voice steady. Your fingers rake through Yoongi’s long dark hair as he situates himself properly on his knees between your legs, his hands pressing your thighs to spread you wider.

“Are you complaining?” he grunts back, and you lose the ability to form a coherent response as he leans in and traces his tongue up your folds.

You nearly bang your head on the mirror with the way your spine instinctively arches at the feeling, your hips tilting up for as much of his mouth as you can get.

“Shit,” you hiss as he starts to fuck the muscle of his tongue into your entrance, his thumb swiping up through your wetness before settling into rough circles over your clit. “Why are you so fucking good at this?”

Once he’s thoroughly tasted you, Yoongi quickly replaces his tongue with his fingers, flexing against your front wall at a brutal pace, like he’s realized you can’t take too long in here. His lips close around your clit as his tongue laps over it in thick strokes, and your hips circle hungrily, grinding on him.

“That’s it,” he pulls off just enough to gasp. “Ride my face. Wanna make you come so I can fuck this tight little pussy.” Just the rough tone of his voice is nearly enough to send you over the edge.

When his lips and tongue return to your cunt, you don’t hold back.

You fist the hand tangled in his hair, your other palm smacking flat to the counter for balance as you throw a leg over his shoulder, and you swear you can hear him laughing while you press your heel into his back to pull him even closer. His mouth is warm and wet and divine, the way he licks and sucks at your throbbing clit overwhelming. He strokes his fingers deftly into your g-spot, working up enough arousal that it’s started to run down the crux of your thighs. You roll your hips again and gasp at the way his tongue drags just right over you.

“Oh god, Yoongi,” you groan, squeezing your eyes shut, too lost in it to worry about being quiet. You can feel it as he keeps his tongue laid out flat for you to use as you please. Everything in you pulls tight as you rut yourself against his face in time to the building pressure worked up in your core by his unrelenting fingers. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna—”

The plane dips sharply, and you lurch upright with a gasp as your eyes snap open. There’s a few more seconds of shuddering bumps, and then you seem to find clear skies again.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you sit back and try to steady your breathing, the world slowly coming into focus: the TV screen in front of you, your purse tucked into the shelf beneath it, beige privacy walls surrounding you on all sides.

Fuck. You lean forward, letting your head drop between your knees as reality sinks in. You’re not in the bathroom. You’re in your stupid first-class seat. It was a dream. A fucking airplane sex dream.

Panic carves through you like a knife as questions bubble up in your mind: What if you said something in your sleep? Did Yoongi hear you? Is he sitting on the other side of the wall with that fucking smirk on his face, endlessly smug in the knowledge that he haunts you even in your dreams?

Immediately convinced that he is, you can’t help yourself. You press your hands flat to the divider between you and just barely lift out of your seat so you can peek over it.

But Yoongi looks entirely unchanged from the last time you saw him several hours earlier: he’s got his headphones on and is slouched over his laptop, frowning down at the screen, thoroughly engrossed in work.

Just as you’re breathing a sigh of relief, he glances up, and your eyes widen.

“Can I help you?” he grunts, not even bothering to pull his headphones off. You don’t think it’s a double entendre, but you don’t want to entertain him long enough to find out.

“No,” you snap, and then you slump back down to the safety of your seat, slamming the controller on the wall until you’re fully horizontal. You tug the provided headphones over your ears, hoping they might block out your racing thoughts as you desperately try to ignore the dull ache between your legs.

~*~

Getting any more sleep proves to be an impossible task, your mind too keyed up at the possibility of another airplane bathroom dream. By the time you make it through the rest of the flight, and customs, and the car ride to your hotel, you’re nearly delirious with exhaustion, and your body is thoroughly confused about what fucking time it is, though your phone says it’s apparently the middle of the night.

Your brain feels like it’s been in a blender, your reaction time so slowed that, standing at the hotel check-in counter, it takes you several seconds to process the words leaving the front desk agent’s mouth.

She must be able to read the dumbfounded look on your face, because she repeats herself. “King bed executive suite for three nights?”

“Um, no,” you finally manage to stammer, and though he makes no discernible noise of reaction, it’s like you can feel Yoongi smirking over your shoulder. “No, we need— I booked a room with two queens.”

The agent purses her lips slightly, then shakes her head as she stares down at her computer. “Mm, I’m seeing in the system that we have you down for one king.”

Your exhaustion steamrolls over whatever professionality you might normally have while conducting a business transaction. “I don’t care what your fucking system says, it’s wrong. That’s not what I booked.” Scrolling through your phone for a few seconds, you manage to dig up the email, and you’re almost more compelled to show it to Yoongi, just to make sure he’s well aware— you did not fuck this up.

“See, two queens,” you reiterate helplessly as you extend the receipt on your phone toward the agent.

She tuts once, her eyes barely glancing over at your phone before returning to her computer screen. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like we have any availability to switch you. Given the Grammys are on Sunday, this is quite a busy weekend for us.”

You set your phone on the counter and try to keep your breathing steady, to remain calm despite the overwhelmed panic starting to rise in your chest.

“About that,” you say, doing your best to speak in an even voice. “We wanted to keep a low profile, but my… associate here is actually a nominee. For Song of the Year?” You hate that it comes out more like a question as your gaze flits to Yoongi for the briefest of seconds, then back to the front desk agent. “So, really, if there’s anything at all you could do, we would appreciate it.”

There’s a pause as she regards you for a moment, her lips pressed into a tight smile, and then she speaks again. “I really do apologize, but a mistake on your part does not constitute an emergency on ours. No matter who the accommodation is for.”

It takes a second for your jetlag-addled brain to process the words, and their direct contrast to the forced sunny expression on her face. If you were in a better state of mind you might be able to take a breath, state your case more calmly, or figure out some other alternative, but instead all you can manage is a knee jerk reaction.

Because you can’t be in a room with Min Yoongi and only one bed.

“Are you fucking kiddin—”

“Hey.”

A hand pressed to your bicep nearly makes you jump out of your skin. Despite every cell in your body urging you to lunge over the counter, you don’t fight it when Yoongi pulls you back a few paces, giving enough room for him to take your place at the counter.

“It’s fine,” he mutters over his shoulder.

It feels like your heart is beating a mile a minute, enough that you can hardly keep up with the soft apology he concedes to the agent. She hands him the room keys without another word, that same fake smile still plastered over her face. With one last nasty look over your shoulder, you follow Yoongi toward the elevators, dragging your suitcase along behind you.

Practically seething, you can barely manage to wait until the doors slide shut before you pounce.

“Look, I don’t know what you think is about to happen here, but I did not fucking book a single bed room.”

“It’s fine,” he sighs wearily, eyes fixed on the overhead number as it counts up to your floor. “I just want to sleep. Whatever that was about to turn into wasn’t worth the trouble.”

The doors slide open with a soft chime, and you storm after him down the hall to your room as he continues, pressing the key to the reader and pushing the door open. “Besides, I've stayed here before, and I know these suites have couches.” He holds the door and gestures for you to enter first, and you do.

He's not wrong: there’s a small living room area with a sofa, a desk, and a television mounted into a wall that effectively separates it from the bedroom on the other side, though there isn’t actually a door. The bathroom is immediately to your left as you step inside.

“So,” Yoongi says simply as the door shuts behind him. “I'll take the couch. All good.”

Of fucking course.

The rational part of your brain knows that he has done nothing to upset you. He's been quiet and polite on your long day of travel, and is treating you simply as if you were business acquaintances. It all makes perfect sense, given that you told him your night at his apartment couldn’t mean anything. He's done everything you’ve asked of him, really.

And yet it’s all of it: your stupid sex dream, the lingering bad taste of your encounter with the hotel agent, and the fact that Yoongi can’t seem to even fathom the idea of sharing a bed with you, not here and certainly not at his apartment. Everything has you simmering with a sudden vicious, unreasonable anger.

“Do whatever you want,” you snap as Yoongi sets his suitcase down on the floor of the living room. “I don’t give a shit.”

The rage burns like acid in your gut as you move through your night routine in the bathroom, and it’s only worsened by the knowledge that your alarm will be going off in just a few hours, and you’ll have to drag yourself through a long day of press and prep for Sunday. And that Yoongi will be there, through all of it, just like he’s on the other side of the door right now, inescapably and overwhelmingly present.

It doesn’t make sense to you how he can somehow manage to be too distant and too close at the same time. As you spit toothpaste into the sink, you wonder why the fuck you ever agreed to go on this stupid trip.

~*~

You don’t think you manage more than ten minutes of sleep the whole night. Despite exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs, you toss and turn and kick at the blankets, too frustrated by all the confusing feelings churned up inside of you to be able to slip into any kind of real rest.

When you glance at the clock for the millionth time, it’s now only thirty minutes until your alarm is due to go off. With a sigh, you decide to give up.

Your mind is already racing with the schedule for the day, and you go over it a million times in your head as you shower and dress and apply your makeup. When you emerge from the bathroom already entirely put together, Yoongi is on the couch blinking blearily at his phone, clearly having just woken up.

“The car will be here at seven,” you call over your shoulder without a second glance back at him.

He grunts his acknowledgement, and after a few moments you hear the sound of the bathroom door sliding shut again. You dig your work laptop out of your purse to double-check everything, and before you know it you’re sucked into confirming specifics and answering emails, and you completely lose track of time.

The sound of Yoongi clearing his throat snaps you back to reality, and you shut your laptop as you glance up to find him standing in the threshold of the bedroom. He’s dressed nicely for his many interviews, in a sky-blue button-down, and you have to blink twice as you take in his appearance.

“You wear glasses?”

The warm lamplight of the bedroom reflects off his lenses as he shrugs. “I don’t like to. But I forgot my contacts.”

“We can stop for some on the way to your fitting,” you answer, adding it to your mental to-do list. The reminder of your booked itinerary is enough to get you to your feet, one arm wrapped around your laptop to press it close to your chest. Trying to remember what else you need to do to get ready proves impossible as Yoongi steps closer, and then you hear him laugh softly under his breath.

“Wow, glasses? Really?”

“What?”

“You have that look on your face,” he says simply, and you can feel an embarrassed heat creep up your neck. You hate that after all this time, he can still read you like a book.

You swallow hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He continues to close the distance between you, and you take a reflexive step backward, only for your thighs to bump against the mattress behind you. “Would’ve worn these more often if I knew they’d get you all flustered.”

You attempt to argue that you’re not flustered, but the words die on your tongue with the realization of how close Yoongi is to you now. His eyes are fixed pointedly on your mouth. “I—” you try again, your voice breaking slightly. “I’m not—”

The sharp buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand makes both of you start, and it’s like you can think clearly again when Yoongi steps back to give you room to grab it. You thumb open the text with one hand as you shove your laptop into your purse with the other. “They’re downstairs.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else to you until you’re in the car, crawling through Los Angeles traffic. “Remind me what all we’re doing today?”

You stare out the windshield, not wanting to meet his gaze as you recount the schedule that’s permanently seared into your brain. “You have press interviews in Studio City all morning until one. We’ll pick up lunch— and we can grab you some contacts, too— and then you have a fitting in Beverly Hills at two. After that, your boss wants us to tour the office out here and take a few meetings with the team, so that’ll be the rest of the afternoon. And then I guess whenever we’re done with that, the label execs want to take us to dinner after.”

He’s silent for long enough that you’re forced to glance over at him, wondering if he was even paying attention. There’s a small smile on his face, but it doesn’t quite read as smug. You don’t know what to make of it.

“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.

“What?” you snap in response, probably a little harsher than he deserves, but you haven’t had coffee yet.

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “It’s just funny, compared to when you first started.” He crosses his arms over his chest, shifting back slightly in his seat. “I remember when you couldn’t even use Outlook.”

You narrow your eyes in his direction. “I guess people change.”

“Guess so.”

The day passes in a hectic blur, and though ostensibly all of your scheduled engagements are meant to be about Yoongi, you find yourself just as busy as he is, if not moreso.

His press interviews run long because of course they do, and you’re forced to drop him at his fitting while you run out to pick up lunch and contacts— and most importantly, more coffee, which you desperately require to survive the rest of the day.

You’re admittedly thankful for the extra tasks. Even if you do feel dead on your feet, it’s still preferable to sitting around and watching Yoongi try on a suit. You can easily recall firsthand how deadly the image is, and putting off that suffering until the real thing tomorrow is perfectly fine, as far as you’re concerned.

The coffee gives you just enough of a caffeine boost to power through your afternoon meetings, reviewing branding strategies and opportunities for collaborative promotions with the label’s overseas team. Your heart sinks a little when you go through the marketing summary slides prepared by Jungkook, not a single detail out of place, and you try to shove thoughts of him to the back of your mind so you can focus on the work.

At dinner, it’s all you can do to not fall asleep over your extremely overpriced sashimi. Yoongi’s been pulled away to the far side of the table for what you can only assume are deeply boring conversations with the Los Angeles production team. Thankfully, your side is a bit more lively.

“Matthew,” the A&R rep who you’re pretty sure introduced herself as Tiffany stage-whispers. You realize she’s speaking to the tall and ridiculously built guy seated next to you when her gaze flits up to him, and then she resumes poring over the extensive drink menu. “Can we get sake bombs?”

“Why are you asking me?” Matthew responds, and you look over to see his face scrunched up in confusion.

“You’re in finance! I need you to tell me that I can get white-girl wasted on the label’s dime tonight.”

He sighs for a moment, like he’s trying to think. “I don’t… actually know if we’re allowed to reimburse that.” Tiffany’s lower lip trembles, dangerously adorable, and he exhales as if he’s been defeated. “Fuck it. I’ll cover it out of pocket if we can’t.”

“God, I love you,” she breathes, chasing the comment with a throaty laugh and quickly flagging down a server to order. “Can we please do thr— Vernon, baby, how old are you?”

The intern seated next to her blinks slowly. “Twenty four?” You’re pretty sure those are his first words of the evening.

“Huh. Your skincare’s doing wonders,” Tiffany shakes her head disbelievingly. “Four sake bombs, please?”

They arrive in an instant, and Tiffany smiles proudly to herself as she balances her shot glass on a pair of chopsticks laid across the top of her beer. You follow Matthew and Vernon’s lead as they set their drinks up to mirror hers.

“To Matthew’s wallet,” Tiffany toasts solemnly. “The only thing bigger than his tits.”

As if in hearty agreement, Matthew bangs his fist against the table so hard it makes everyone in a five foot radius flinch, and all four of your shot glasses plummet into the awaiting beers beneath them.

“Kanpai, motherfuckers!” Tiffany cackles, and you throw your drinks back in perfect sync.

The rowdiness of your corner is too loud to be ignored, and your stomach twists slightly as you set your empty glass down only to catch Yoongi staring from across the table. When your eyes meet his, he quickly lowers his gaze and adjusts his glasses, his mouth pulling into a flat line.

You turn back to your new friends as Tiffany finishes her own drink. As if she just witnessed the silent exchange, she leans toward you.

“So,” she drops her voice a little lower, “What’s it like working with Suga?”

Doing your best to keep your face neutral, you inhale deeply, wondering where to begin, or what would even be workplace-appropriate to say. The jetlag makes your mind move that much slower. “It’s—”

“Oh my god,” she immediately interrupts you. “You’re sleeping with him.”

Vernon nearly spits the last swallow of his drink back out.

“Tiffany,” Matthew interjects, sounding exhausted, like this is a regular occurrence. “Don’t fucking say that to someone you just met.”

“I mean,” you concede, your lips loosened by the warm rush of alcohol. “She’s not wrong.”

Matthews eyes widen, and he purses his lips for a long pause before he finally speaks. “Shiiiiiit, okay. Alright then.”

You sigh, slumping to rest your cheek in your hand, so exhausted that you can barely stay upright. “I don’t know if ‘sleeping with’ is the right term. It’s just a… mistake that we’ve made. A few times. Several, I guess.”

“I bet he’s even richer than Matthew,” Tiffany says, awestruck, clearly more to herself than to you.

“If it’s a mistake, why do you keep making it?” Vernon asks bluntly.

“Damn, Vernon with the deep cut,” Matthew remarks, and you shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, your words running together slightly. “I’m just trying not to think about it, at least not while we’re on this stupid work trip.”

All three of them nod like they understand, and then Tiffany leans in again. “Let me guess: there’s only one bed in the hotel room.”

“Please ignore her.” Matthew sounds as tired as you feel.

“Yes!” you exclaim, your anger from the night before temporarily reigniting. “The hotel fucked our room up, and the lady wouldn’t fix it because she was a fucking bitch—”

“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.

“And even though we only have one bed, he chose to take the couch. Like, that’s where we’re at.”

“That’s sweet,” Tiffany murmurs, and you make a face.

“Is it?”

“He’s being respectful. I bet he doesn’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable, or like… pressured. ‘Cause sleeping with somebody is a world of difference from… sleeping with them, you know?”

You roll your eyes. “Or he wants to be as far away from me as possible, even while sleeping.”

“If I was the one nominated for a Grammy, I’d make you take the couch,” Vernon scoffs around a piece of edamame.

“Right?” Matthew chimes in. “Ain’t no way I’m getting good sleep on a hotel couch. Them things are like fuckin’ cement blocks.”

A yawn escapes you before you can manage to stifle it, and you press a hand to your mouth, suddenly overwhelmed from exhaustion as well as the conversation. You scoot your chair back from the table to stand and politely excuse yourself to the restroom.

“You gotta cool it with that shit, Tiff,” you hear Matthew mutter as you depart.

Your mind swims while you traverse the long back hallways of this bougie restaurant. It’s almost laughable now, but you really never thought to give Yoongi the benefit of the doubt for sleeping on the couch— not here, and not at his apartment.

You’re still so used to expecting the worst from him that you’ve just assumed the intention is laced into his every action. Even the nice things have felt like a cause for concern, like a reason to keep your guard up, small gestures meant to distract you so he can get the upper hand, somehow. It’s hard to shake the idea that he’s your enemy, even after everything that’s happened.

And yet you can’t help wondering if Tiffany is right. Is Yoongi really just being… respectful? And if so: what does he want? And how does he feel? You’re torn between wanting to know and hoping you never find out.

A voice saying your name drags you out of your thoughts. You turn back just shy of the restroom door, unable to stop another yawn from slipping out, and you bring a hand to your mouth to hide it. Your eyes widen as your brain works on a delay to process the familiar voice, then the sky-blue shirt and the dark framed glasses. It distantly occurs to you that Yoongi has you all alone in this fancy hallway.

You blink a few times, willing the weight of sleepiness out of your eyes, then finally respond with the first thing you can think of. “I’m not fucking you in the bathroom, Yoongi.”

He blinks right back at you, clearly not expecting that. “I… wasn’t asking you to.”

“What do you want then?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I—” he sighs, and you can’t help but wonder if he suddenly regrets coming after you. “You’re tired.”

“Yes, because I barely fucking slept. And?”

You tell yourself that you’re just imagining the way his voice has softened slightly. “Dinner’s over. We don’t have to stay. They’ll get it.”

“I’m having fun,” you retort. “I made friends.”

“I saw,” he remarks, not quite able to hide his smirk.

“So please, don’t cut your boring producer conversation short on my behalf,” you continue dryly.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, to your surprise. “Yeah, it’s brutal. I’d much rather be sleeping.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Or doing sake bombs.”

The question rushes out before you can second guess if it’s a good idea to ask. “How did you sleep? On the couch?”

Yoongi shrugs, then rubs a hand at the back of his neck, making a face as if you’ve put him on the spot. “Like shit.”

You nod, your gaze dropping to the carpeted floor. “Well, I mean. Maybe it would make more sense if, uh—”

“’Scuse me—” a new voice causes your head to snap up again, and you take a step away from Yoongi as Tiffany slips between the two of you, moving quickly toward the women’s restroom.

“Sorry love, I have to break the seal!” she calls over her shoulder before the door slams shut.

The interruption is enough to make you swallow your suggestion, and Yoongi reaches into his pocket for his phone.

“I’ll call a car, because I’m tired,” he murmurs defensively. “You’re welcome to get your own later, if you want to stay out—”

“I don’t,” you say firmly. “It’s fine. Just tell me when the car’s here.” Before Yoongi can so much as respond, you shoulder the bathroom door open and fast-walk to the safety of a stall.

After breaking your own seal, you make your way out to a sink, and you’re a little taken aback to find Tiffany still there waiting for you. She’s hovering over the mirror, blotting at her forehead with a paper towel.

“I wanted to apologize if I came on too strong,” she says softly as you turn on the tap. “Matthew says my mind-reading abilities can be intimidating to people who don’t know me well.”

You can’t help but laugh. “It’s cool. You remind me of my best friend.”

“The highest honor there is,” she says with a knowing nod. When she turns to fully face you, shifting to rest her hip on the sink as you dry your hands, you have a feeling there’s more coming.

“So, can I be honest?”

“Go ahead,” you say, suddenly a little nervous.

“I know I just met both of you today, but— the way Suga was looking at you? Girl. He’s not taking the couch because he wants to.”

You smile politely at her reflection, and her eyes narrow. “I know you don’t believe me, and you don’t have to. Matthew doesn’t believe that he’s in love with me either, but we both have Leo Moons, so obviously we’re each waiting for the other person to cave first.” She shrugs, nonchalant. “Which is fine for us, but all I’m saying is, if you want something, there’s really nothing wrong with asking for it.”

The urge to shut her down is strong. It’s slightly unnerving to feel like a relative stranger is peering into your soul. “You make it sound easy,” you murmur with a dry laugh. “I don’t think bed-sharing is part of our… arrangement.”

Tiffany preens a little more in the mirror, deftly flipping her curtain of dark hair over one shoulder. “Maybe it’s not supposed to be, but trust me on this one. He won’t say no. And if he does, I owe you a sake bomb.”

A genuine smile blooms across your face, and it only widens when she holds up her pinky finger. You lock yours around it for a single shake. “Deal.”

Arm-in-arm with Tiffany, you return to your corner of the table, where she entertains you by bullying Matthew into buying another round of drinks while he groans about burning a hole in his pocket.

“If it helps,” you giggle, “I’m about to head out. So make it three instead of four.”

“Thank god,” Matthew breathes a sigh of relief. “This girl is so damn expensive.”

Tiffany pauses with a spoonful of matcha gelato— also ordered on Matthew’s dime— halfway to her mouth. “I literally have a Leo stellium, what the fuck do you expect?”

While they continue to bicker, your gaze floats down the table. You wonder if Tiffany’s mind-reading powers might be catching as your eyes land on Yoongi just in time for him to look up from his phone and meet your gaze. He nods his head once toward the entrance, and you nod back.

A shoulder bumps into yours, and you turn to see Tiffany subtly shoot you a thumbs-up. “Fighting!” she murmurs under her breath, and you laugh as you get to your feet and bid everyone goodnight.

Yoongi holds the door of the restaurant for you to exit first, then follows you into the large black car waiting for you on the curb.

The drive back to the hotel gives you just enough time to immediately talk yourself out of Tiffany’s suggestion. The thought of asking for what you want feels like a trap, like displaying weakness to the one person who could hit you hardest. Besides, what if she misread Yoongi entirely? She doesn’t know him at all, and has no idea of the way things are between you. It’s a terrible idea, you decide.

So you find yourself right where you were the night before, like a bad dream you can’t wake up from: face washed, teeth brushed, tossing and turning in a bed far too large for one person. You can feel your final thread of resistance snap clean in half as you angrily kick the blankets off, then get to your feet and storm into the living room.

Yoongi is still up, peering down at his phone screen on the couch, his glasses deposited atop the coffee table.

“You’re being stupid,” you huff, and he glances up, clearly not expecting the interruption.

“I am?”

“You’re going to the Grammys tomorrow,” you say, as if that will explain anything.

“So are you,” Yoongi counters.

“Well yeah, but nobody’s going to give a shit about me.”

“I’d argue that’s also true for me,” he murmurs dryly, then squints at you. “Sorry, why am I stupid?”

“Because you’re going to sleep terribly on this couch.”

Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”

You sigh, because of course he’s going to drag this out of you. “And the bed is perfectly big enough for two people. We wouldn’t even be touching or anything. So…” Fuck, saying what you want is hard. “Can you just… stop being stupid?”

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, and you’re surprised when that trademark cocky smirk doesn’t spread across his face. If anything, he just seems hesitant as he slowly sits up. “You’re sure?”

You fold your arms across your chest, suddenly feeling exposed like this, standing in front of him in only your thin sleep clothes. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth just barely pulls up, so slight you could be imagining it. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

In the bedroom, you leave the lamp at the empty side of the bed switched on, then crawl back under the sheets on your side. Heat blooms in your face as you press your cheek to the cool pillowcase, purposefully facing out, then reach one arm up to turn off your own bedside lamp.

True to his word, a few minutes later you hear the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s steps across the carpet, then feel the shift of the mattress as he slips into bed on his side. He fumbles on the nightstand with what must be his glasses and his phone, and then you hear the click of the light, and the room disappears into darkness.

There’s a rustle and a sigh as he makes himself comfortable, and you were right: the two of you can easily share the bed without touching, plenty of space on the mattress between you.

Even so, having him closer is somehow… better. Comforting. You try not to dwell too much on it.

Flipping over onto your back, you stare up at the infinite black of the ceiling above you, your eyes already starting to weigh heavy. You don’t know where the question comes from, or why you ask it.

“Are you nervous?”

When he answers, Yoongi sounds half-asleep, too. “About what?”

“The Grammys?”

“Oh.” There’s a stirring sound, and then he speaks, like he’s just remembered you can’t see him shrugging. “I don’t know. A little.”

The only reply you’re capable of is a soft hum, and now you really can’t keep your eyes open. You curl up on your side again, cheek smushing into the pillow, and your consciousness whirs up one last coherent thought before you fully slip under: What else would he be nervous about?

~*~

You wake up to the warm glow of morning beneath your eyelids, and when you blink them open, the room is lit soft, dappled in sunlight that has managed to sneak between the thick hotel curtains. It’s warm in this bed too, and comfortable, and you sigh quietly to yourself as you stir a little under the covers. With a stifled yawn, you move to turn onto your back, and it’s only when you meet a gentle resistance that you realize why you’re so warm.

Yoongi must just be waking up too, because you immediately feel his body start at the realization that he pulled you close at some point during the night: an arm thrown over your waist, his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Sorry.” As the mattress starts to shift behind you, you respond on pure physical instinct and close your hand around Yoongi’s wrist.

“Stay.” The word comes out hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

Yoongi’s response is a soft grunt, and a bolt of panic quickens your pulse. You’re suddenly worried he might not want to stay, that he might even laugh at you for thinking you could have it like this, wrapped in his arms and waking up slowly. The furthest thing from hatred— and isn’t that what this is supposed to be?

But then his grip tightens to pull you that much closer, and he wordlessly presses his face into the crook of your neck. Your heart flutters in your chest, sweet and terrified. The heat of his breath over your skin makes you lean into him instinctively, and when your hips tilt, you can feel the unmistakable bulge of his clothed cock against your ass.

“God,” Yoongi groans. The deep gravel of his voice is enough to tighten your nipples beneath your tank top. “You make me so fucking hard. Dreamt about fucking you in this bed.”

“We woke up early,” you murmur. “So. There’s time.”

He grunts a low note in response. You can already feel the thin material of your sleep shorts growing wet between your legs as you slowly grind your hips back on him.

Yoongi’s hand slips up your body, fingertips dragging over the fabric of your top until his palm is pressed to the column of your throat. You inhale softly, your head tipping up to allow him better access. His grip just barely tightens, and when he speaks in your ear, you can hear the smile around his words. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me, Yoongi,” you breathe. “In this bed.”

When you repeat his words back to him, Yoongi exhales a laugh, and then you feel him press a kiss to the hinge of your jaw. Something melts open inside of you at the brush of his lips, a sudden rush of an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. Something you certainly never expected to feel with Min fucking Yoongi, of all people.

He releases his hold on your throat, and his hand makes short work of slipping the straps of your tank top off your shoulders, then yanking the loose fabric down to expose your tits. You shiver a little at the morning air against your bare skin.

Yoongi’s palm closes around one of your breasts, lazily massaging it, and you rut your ass back on him with a small whimper. The heat of his mouth trails more kisses up your neck, and then his deep voice is in your ear again.

“Did you sleep okay?” He pairs the question with his thumb dragging circles over the stiff bud of your nipple, earning another soft noise from you.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond. “Better than the first night.”

He hums against the shell of your ear, the timbre of his rough voice setting every last one of your nerve endings alight. Overcome with desire, you can barely focus on his words as his hand traces along your waist to slip down the back of your shorts.

“Me too. So much better than the fucking couch.”

Two of his fingers tease over your slit, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh at how wet he finds you, how turned on you already are. When he swipes between your folds to circle at your entrance, you can hear your own slickness, chased with a soft noise of appreciation that escapes Yoongi’s mouth as he plunges both digits into your pussy. You can’t help but moan, too.

He could easily make you come just like this, but you want him too much.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, twisting slightly to reach a hand behind you. You trace down the hard muscles of his stomach, apparent even through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, until your palm drags along the thick outline of his cock straining beneath his boxer briefs. He’s so hard that he pulses under your touch, and you’re sure he must be able to feel the way your pussy flutters at the thought of this cock filling you up.

“Needy,” he purrs, his mouth against your neck.

“Shut up,” you answer automatically, not quite able to keep your voice steady with the way he’s fucking his fingers into you.

But Yoongi doesn’t torment you— you only have to give his clothed length one slow pump before his hands are pushing your shorts over your legs, like he can’t get them off fast enough. You kick them the rest of the way off while he works his boxers down, and then you arch back as his cock starts to tease your pussy lips apart.

He slips easily through your folds, painting you both in a mixture of pre-cum and arousal as he grinds himself over the whole of your slit. You bite back a moan when the head of his dick rubs up to your clit, smearing wetness there in steady strokes that make you gasp and writhe.

“Can I go raw again?” he asks so softly in your ear, and your cunt throbs as you whimper your consent.

It’s impossible to keep quiet now, not with how perfectly his cock pushes into you, stretching you open to take him. You press your face into the pillow to slightly muffle your sounds, and you can hear Yoongi groan behind you.

“Fuck,” he hisses roughly. “You’re ruining me. I may never be able to go back to condoms.”

“Yoongi,” you whine as he sheathes himself fully with a grunt of effort, giving you a few moments to adjust before he moves. “If you keep fucking talking in my ear with your morning voice like that—” your own voice breaks off mid-sentence as he drags his cock out just to fuck it back into you, and you have to take a breath before trying again. “I’m gonna come in five seconds.”

When he presses his mouth to your shoulder, you can feel the smirk on his lips. “Is that right?” The low rumble of his question buzzes through you, and your walls tighten around him in response. “You like it that much?”

You can barely remember how to form words with the way he’s started to thrust, the head of his cock sparking hot pleasure each time he rubs himself over the ridges of your front wall. “What if I do?”

Yoongi hums into the crook of your neck, purposefully drawing the sound out to make a shiver run up your spine, and you can’t help moaning. His hand slips between your thighs to nudge them apart, and you’re easily pliant for him, spreading yourself at his guidance so his fingers can find your clit.

“I’d tell you how fucking good you look like this,” he murmurs against your skin. “How well you take my cock.” You roll your hips in time with his strokes, and his free arm slips between your shoulder and the bed to wrap around your chest, giving him leverage to fuck you harder.

“Oh my god.” You nearly choke on your words as he pounds into you, unrelenting now, and your fingertips claw desperately at the pillow beneath your head.

“Pussy’s always so fucking tight, shit,” he groans. “Should’ve just done this the whole weekend. Don’t know how I even let you leave the room.”

Your feet flex helplessly against the bedsheets as Yoongi’s hand rubs a steadily building pressure into your core that threatens to overflow. His fingers move in tight circles over your clit like he knows your body well— which, you guess, he does. The thought of him keeping you here all weekend, tangled up in these sheets, fucking you senseless and making you come again and again and again is dizzying, enough to make your pussy start to pulse around his length.

“Yoongi,” you gasp. “Fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me come.”

His lips brush over your shoulder, his voice stilted by how roughly he’s fucking into you. “Yeah, come on this cock. Make a mess for me.”

The pleasure is so overwhelming you almost want to squirm away from it, but then his fingers press your clit just right to snap a final thread and send you over the edge. Your thighs shake violently as your climax rips through you, and a rush of fluid squirts out of your cunt to coat the length of his dick and soak a wet spot into the sheets.

Yoongi groans unabashedly at the sight, still fucking you through the waves of your orgasm, his thrusts slowing as if to hold off his own end while your pussy keeps shuddering around him.

You take your time coming all the way down, lost in how good it feels, and then you slump back against the pillow with a ragged sigh, your head swimming. “Holy shit.”

His throbbing-hard cock is still clenched inside your heat, and the bed shifts when he gently pulls out. Dazed, you turn over to watch him as he kneels up on the bed next to you, his knees sinking soft divots into the mattress, and starts to slowly pump himself.

And fuck. He looks so good like this: long hair mussed from sex and sleep, with a half-awake look of concentration on his face, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth and the muscles of his arm flexing with every stroke. Watching him get himself off has only gotten hotter since you saw it the first time, and you didn’t think that was possible.

It feels like it takes all the effort you have left in your body, but you manage to sit up and turn to face him. In one assured move, you reach down to grab his wrist and pull his hand off his cock.

Yoongi whines a little at the realization of what you’re doing, and he leans back to give you full access as you settle yourself on all fours in front of him.

“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”

“Please?” you laugh, pausing to glance up at him. “Who taught you manners?”

“That fucking mouth did,” he growls, and it’s punctuated with a relieved moan as you drag your tongue up his shaft. One of his hands tangles in your hair while you lick the heady taste of yourself off his cock, then breathe deep through your nose so you can swallow him down.

Yoongi’s breath comes in ragged pants as you hollow your cheeks around him and start to bob your head, letting his tip rub against the back of your throat on every pass. You feel his fingers in your hair tighten, and his hips shove up to match your strokes, like he’s already close to coming undone.

This thick cock weighs heavy and familiar on your tongue, warm like the rays of morning sun that have reached far enough into the room to wash over the bedsheets now. Drool spills out from the seal of your lips around Yoongi’s shaft, and the sound of him fucking your mouth is obscene, pornographic as it floats up to the ceiling.

“God,” Yoongi gasps. “Gonna come down your pretty fucking throat.”

And it’s funny— once, this would have made you feel powerful, in control, like the person with the upper hand. The winner. But in this moment, it occurs to you that you don’t really give a shit about winning anymore. Now his words just make you hum and suppress a smile around his cock in your mouth. When you notice the way his thighs tremble in response, you keep going, vibrating his length while you sink as far down as you can take it.

The hand in your hair releases, and then his palm just barely brushes over the bulge of his cock in your throat as if in admiration. Eyes rolling back, you let your jaw slacken and swallow hard on the stretch of him there.

“Jesus, fuck,” he groans, and then he’s coming, and the throb of him in your mouth still feels like a reward. You pull back a little to keep from gagging as he paints fat ropes of cum into the tight clutch of your throat. Sucking firmly around him through spasm after spasm, you swallow it all down greedily until you feel him going soft on your tongue.

You finally pull off with a wet pop, dazed and laughing as you roll over and collapse into a heap against the mattress, thoroughly spent.

“Okay,” Yoongi manages to say on an exhale, though you can hear he’s still short of breath, too. You glance up to see him raking a hand through his hair, looking fucked out of his mind. “I’m ready to go win a Grammy now.”

There’s just enough time for each of you to shower and get dressed before a whole team of people arrive for Yoongi: stylists, hair and makeup, and most importantly, coffee delivery. Yoongi blinks wide-eyed at you as you press the largest iced Americano you could find in downtown Los Angeles into his hands, and then you step back to let everyone get to work.

Meanwhile, you spend the next few hours in a rush of attempting to get yourself ready, all while double-checking the schedule, answering emails on the fly from your phone, and trying desperately to ignore the anxiety that’s started to hum in the pit of your stomach.

Once your hair and makeup are as decent as you can get them, you slip the black dress you packed for tonight— a rental, because buying a black tie dress was absolutely out of your price range— off the hanger and step carefully into it. Watching yourself in the mirror, you reach behind you for the zipper only to realize you can’t quite manage to pull it up past the small of your back.

Fuck. You didn’t even think about the fact that Jimin helped you zip this thing up when you tried it on initially, during a night at your place where you split two bottles of wine and he performed his own personal critique of all your dress rental options. This was the only one he’d liked.

With a nervous sigh, you head for the bathroom door, figuring that you’ll be able to subtly grab the attention of one of Yoongi’s many stylists to help.

But when you slowly slide the door open, one hand pressing the fabric of your dress in place over your chest, you realize the room has fallen quiet. As you lean across the threshold, you see why: everyone is gone.

Except for Yoongi, who glances up from where he’s sunk into the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

“Where is everyone?” you snap, probably a little harsher than you need to be.

He frowns like he doesn’t understand the question. “They… left? Because they were done? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but there’s a big awards show tonight. Means the stylists are pretty booked today.”

Yoongi gets to his feet to cross the room, and you fumble awkwardly, trying to keep your dress up. He’s fully put together now in a well-fitted suit and tie, and with his long hair styled and subtle makeup applied to enhance his features, he looks… good. Too good. Deadly. You can’t quite manage to maintain eye contact, and find yourself staring dumbly at the floor instead.

His voice softens slightly as he steps in close to you. “What’s wrong? Does it not fit?”

“It fucking better,” you mutter. “I just… can’t reach the zipper.”

“Are you asking for my help?”

Your gaze flits up to meet his, and you’re a little surprised by his question. “There’s nobody else here,” you retort, stubborn.

When he blinks evenly back at you, like he’s waiting for something, you realize he’s not going to make this easy. Fucking hell. Another tense moment passes, and he just blinks again.

“Yes,” you finally give in with a frustrated sigh. “Will you please help me, Yoongi?”

“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you do.

His hand slides over the small of your back, and then he slowly starts to ease the zipper up. You don’t dare move a muscle until he’s done, and it’s only once he buttons the closure at the top that you breathe a serious sigh of relief. The dress fits like a glove.

You attempt to compose yourself enough to thank him, but the words get stuck in your throat when you feel the heat of his breath against your skin.

His low voice resonates in the quiet of the room as he leans in. “Was that so hard?”

You turn your head as if to argue, but then there’s a split second where you feel his lips brush over your neck, just below your ear. So slight it could’ve been an accident.

“Thanks,” you manage to choke out, and then you slip away from him to get your heels from the bedroom and try to remember how to breathe. You do your best to ignore the fact that your hands are shaking as you pull your shoes on, then pause in front of the full-length mirror on the wardrobe, giving yourself a final once-over.

As you smooth your hands down the black velvet fabric and turn to the side, you glance up to find Yoongi hovering in the threshold, watching you.

“That dress,” he remarks, sounding a little dazed. You have to fight to keep the smile off your face when he trails off, unable to say more— you didn’t think it was possible to make Min Yoongi speechless. It’s not a bad feeling.

And you do like this dress, even though you could never actually afford it. It’s simple but elegant, a sleeveless column style with a plunging neckline and a slit that reaches your mid-thigh. Nothing groundbreaking, but it sticks to your curves like water and makes you feel somewhat more like a person who belongs at a fancy awards show.

“Jimin picked it,” you respond, and you hear Yoongi exhale a laugh.

“He has good taste.”

You turn toward him as your hidden smile pulls into a smirk. “Well, I’m not dressed up for you,” you chide, and you revel in the way his face drops briefly in surprise before he’s able to conceal it. “I’m trying to meet Kendrick.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

You’re thankful that you purposefully padded your schedule with extra time, because you lose nearly every last minute of it stuck in the gridlock of Los Angeles traffic on the night of a huge event.

By the time you make it to the venue, you’re practically nauseous from all the stopping and starting and crawling of the car, and Yoongi looks equally bad, though you suspect his condition might be more anxiety-related.

As it turns out, the Grammys are a lot less glamorous when you’re only mildly famous, at least by American standards. The two of you are shepherded by security to another ‘lane’ of the red carpet and warned not to stop as you make your way into the building. You observe from afar while A-list celebrities pass in a blur, flashbulbs pop bright enough to blind you, and chatter is drowned out by the sound of fans screaming and the clamor of reporters trying to grab the biggest names for an interview.

“I’m so glad I’m not that fucking famous,” Yoongi scoffs, though he doesn’t quite manage to hide the nerves in his voice.

“Come on,” you murmur once you get inside, nodding toward a pop-up bar in a far corner of the lobby. “Take the edge off. And I’m gonna need alcohol if I have to sit through a fucking three-hour show.”

You down your drinks quickly, only a few minutes shy of the time by which you have to be in your seats, and you return from tossing the empties in the trash to see Yoongi eyeing a piano pushed against the far wall, clearly for show. He takes a seat, glancing around as if in fear of getting yelled at, then gently pushes up the key lid.

“Ooh, do Wine!” you tease with a laugh as you drop onto the bench beside him, but he actually does start to play, one foot pressing down on a pedal to keep the sound soft. His fingers alight over the keys, and the song he plucks out is beautiful. It’s a melody that almost feels nostalgic to you, even though you know you’ve never heard it before.

“What is this?” you ask, and he keeps playing as he responds.

“Do you know Sakamoto?”

You hum a no as you shake your head.

His eyes narrow slightly. “Remind me how you work in the music industry?”

A smile plays at your lips, and you roll your eyes. “Shut up. You know I’m a fraud.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss a note when he glances up to meet your gaze. “Are you?”

It’s only now that you realize how close he is: the two of you are basically sitting hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. For a moment, you forget about the Grammys, forget that anyone else is even in the room.

“Excuse me!” A voice snaps you out of the moment, and you scoot away from Yoongi so quickly you nearly topple off the bench. “That’s not meant to be played, and we need everyone to head to their seats, please!” Your face flushes with an embarrassed heat, and Yoongi lifts a hand apologetically as he covers the keys back up.

You stick close to his side so as not to lose him in the large crowd of people. “Bet they’ll let you play whatever piano you want once you have one of those dumb little trophies,” you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi really laughs, like he wasn’t expecting the comment.

Another thing you didn’t necessarily anticipate: the Grammys are fucking long. You knew it would be over three hours, but you realize you severely underestimated how long that time would feel. While the performances are incredible (and you have to dig your nails into the cushion of your seat to keep from squealing when you spot Lil Nas X a few rows in front of you), there’s plenty of filler between them, and it feels a lot drier when you’re physically in the room for it. Even the commercial breaks are far too short for you to have enough time to actually run to the restroom or get another drink.

You’re also starving. “I hate that they don’t serve food at these things,” you hiss to Yoongi during a break, but it’s late enough in the night now that he’s barely speaking, apart from the occasional monotone grunt.

Though you’ve been waiting for it all evening, you still don’t quite know if you’re ready when the host starts to run down the list of nominees for Song of the Year.

As he’s only credited as a writer, they don’t actually say Yoongi’s pseudonym, but pride still squeezes tight in your chest when you see “Suga” spelled out across the on-stage monitors beneath the name of the song.

They get through all the titles in what seems like less than a second, and your heart feels like it might give out as an anticipatory silence settles over the crowd. The host fumbles with getting the envelope open, and you’re so tense, you flinch hard at an unexpected brush of contact.

You glance down, and it takes a moment for your brain to process what’s happened. He’s not looking at you, hasn’t said anything, but Yoongi has nevertheless reached over to grab your hand. His long fingers lace through yours, gripping surprisingly tight, and the skin of his palm is warm and dry. It’s like your brain short-circuits for a moment as you stare stupidly at your joined hands, and he gives yours a single nervous squeeze.

“And the Grammy goes to…”

You look over at him, still dumbfounded, and then you hear them call a song that isn’t his.

Your heart sinks as you watch Yoongi blink up at the screen, his mouth pulled into a flat line. You realize belatedly you’re supposed to be clapping, but his hand is still clasped in yours. And you don’t want to pull away from him.

But then he moves first, untwining his hand from yours and bringing it up to rake through his hair with a disbelieving laugh. A little delayed, you both join in the applause as the winner makes their way to the stage. You can’t even process who it is.

You have no idea what to say to console him, so you don’t say anything at all.

Thankfully the category is one of the last of the night, so you only have to sit through a few more rounds of acceptance speeches and watching other people’s dreams come true before you can finally get to your feet. You feel like you can’t leave fast enough as you’re herded out of the stadium and into another car to depart for the afterparty.

There’s a heavy silence in the backseat that feels like a chasm between you as you crawl through Los Angeles traffic.

You realize there’s a bottle of champagne tucked into an ice bucket behind the front seat— a thoughtful touch from the label execs, you assume. Yoongi spots it at the same time you do, and he immediately reaches for it. With a grunt of effort, he pops the cork, a little bit of excess foam dribbling onto the floor of the car.

He raises his eyebrows at you, then brings the bottle right to his mouth for a long drink. Longer than long. You watch his adam’s apple jump in his throat as he swallows several times.

“Alright, chill the fuck out,” you snap after a few seconds, reaching over to grab it from him. “At least eat something first.”

“It’s my consolation prize,” Yoongi quips, but he lets you wrest the champagne from his hands without resisting. You take a thorough swig yourself, then recork the bottle and drop it back in the bucket. “Such a good little admin,” he purrs, and you try to convince yourself there isn’t a hint of venom in his words.

The car pulls to a stop at the designated hotel, and you climb out after Yoongi. Upon making it inside, the two of you peel off in different directions: him for the bar, and you to find anything that remotely resembles food. You keep glancing over at him from across the room as it fills with more and more people, nervous to take your eyes off him for too long, unsure of what he might do. Every time you find him again, it seems like he’s downing another glass of whiskey, drinking like the fucking world is ending.

Meanwhile, you’re struggling to find anything that isn’t kale, quinoa, or… whatever grain-free bread is. With a frustrated sigh, you finally decide to give up. If Yoongi wants to drink on an empty stomach until he gets alcohol poisoning, you figure that’s his fucking problem.

When you shove your way through the crowd back toward him, you find that he’s been pulled into a conversation with a bunch of older men you can only assume to be local industry reps. As you get close enough to make out their words, you quickly understand why he has such a sour look on his face.

“Song of the Year, huh? You know we can cross-reference the nominees and figure out if you’re full of shit, right?”

Yoongi grimaces politely into his drink as he throws it back, but you have no problem cutting in. “You’re actually speaking to an incredibly accomplished producer and songwriter,” you retort without thinking. “He has over 100 KOMCA credits.” You don’t miss the smirk Yoongi tries to conceal behind the rim of his glass.

“KOMCA?” Another one of them speaks up, the question paired with a harsh laugh. “Never heard of it. That anything like payola?”

“Wild that anyone can just buy their way into the industry these days.” The first man shakes his head, eyes scanning Yoongi up and down as if the tailoring of his suit tells him everything he needs to know. “Guess that’s the way the world works now. Never had to struggle a day in your life, huh?”

Your response is immediate and far too loud. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A loud laugh ripples through all of the men, clearly more excited about evoking a reaction than the gravity of their claims. “Wow, man,” the one who spoke first chortles, clapping Yoongi hard on the shoulder. “Looks like you need to control your girl.”

Your heart thuds in your chest as you watch Yoongi shrug off the guy’s hand to set his empty glass down on the closest table. He moves slowly, deliberately taking a long pause before correcting them. “This is actually my assistant.” His voice is laced with a deadly calm you know well.

“Assistant?” A third pipes up, acting as if he’s never heard the word before. “Huh. You know, back in my day we just called them secretaries. Or mistresses.”

Yoongi moves so fast you barely have time to process it, lunging forward and shoving the guy in the chest with enough force that he stumbles backwards into his shitty friends. “What the fuck!” one of them shouts, purposefully loud, and you can hear a ripple of shock roll through the crowd, can see heads turning to look your way in alarm.

“No, no, nope,” you immediately mutter. “This is not fucking happening.”

Yoongi is already taking another step toward the group, and you tighten a hand hard around his bicep. “We’re leaving.”

When he whips around to face you, the mixture of anger and pain reflected in his dark eyes is so overwhelming, it hits you like a truck. You try to force yourself to stay calm, because at least one of you has to be.

“Come on, Yoongi,” you say, letting your voice soften. “Fuck this place. I need some real food.” Your eyes search his, pleading. For a moment, you can’t help but wonder if you’re staring down an enemy or a friend.

But then you see the fight go out of him as he nods, and you breathe a silent sigh of relief.

Shifting the hand on his arm to press firmly to the center of his back, you guide him in front of you and wind through the packed room of people until you make your way outside again.

Fate does you one good turn by leaving an empty cab out front, and you push Yoongi into the backseat, then slide in next to him. You lean forward to greet the driver, doing your best to smile politely and act composed, like you didn’t just almost get into a fight at the Grammys afterparty.

“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”

~*~

The cab drops you off outside a strip of bars and restaurants, lit up with neon signs in both English and Korean. To his credit, Yoongi seems more subdued as he follows you out of the car wordlessly, but you allow him a little more time to cool off in silence. You wander somewhat aimlessly, attempting to shake off your lingering anxiety in the warm evening air, until you stumble upon a food truck parked at the end of the block. Your eyes go wide at the posted signage.

“What do you think?” you ask as you turn to Yoongi, and he shrugs, like he really doesn’t care. Perfect. You’ve never had a problem a gamja hot dog couldn’t fix.

Securing one for each of you, you nod Yoongi toward a small group of tables set up at the curb to sit down. Once seated, you immediately drown your hot dog in ketchup and mustard, and you can hear him scoff before taking the bottles from you to do the same. Admittedly, you must look fairly ridiculous eating fried street food in full black tie, but you’re far too hungry to give a fuck right now.

It’s perfection from the first bite, crispy and hot, the batter studded with potato pieces and the inside loaded with cheese.

You’re also too hungry to bother making conversation at first, but after a few more bites you glance over at Yoongi, and your heart sinks all over again. You really do feel bad, and then the words are leaving your mouth before you can stop them.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur with your mouth full. “That you didn’t win.”

He makes a face as he chews. “We already agreed I wouldn’t have been happy even if I won, right? So it doesn’t really matter.”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced. “It’s okay to have feelings, you know. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Yoongi just shrugs, but he can’t quite meet your gaze. “It’s whatever.” You take another bite as he continues. “If I’m gonna win a Grammy, I want it to be for something that’s all mine anyway.”

The sentence surprises you, and you blink back at him. “You’re going to release your own stuff?”

As if he instantly regrets bringing it up, his face reddens a little, his expression twisting into an unsure grimace. “Ahh… I don’t know, probably not. People know me as a producer. I don’t know that anyone would actually listen to it.”

“I would,” you say without even really thinking, and his eyes widen. “You know,” you continue quickly, adopting a fake-serious tone. “Since I work in the music industry. Strictly business.”

A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth, and you find yourself relieved to see it. “I appreciate that.”

You’re also desperately curious, wondering if he’ll say more about his own music, but he goes quiet again. Given the night he’s had, you don’t exactly want to push it.

Taking the final bite of your hot dog and mourning the loss, you stack your skewer and paper tray on top of Yoongi’s, then get to your feet to toss them in the nearest trash can. When you return to the table, you smack your palms decisively against it.

“Come on. I think the circumstances call for some binge drinking.”

Your first stop is tucked into two seats at a neighboring dive bar, alive and roaring with enough ambient conversation that you have to speak fairly loudly to be heard over the noise. The bar in the center of the room is wrapped around a small open kitchen, where you watch the line cooks hustle to steam, grill, and fry what seems like a never-ending rush of food orders.

You and Yoongi stick to soju, pouring each other shot after shot. On the first one, he tilts his full glass toward you, and you knock yours against it.

“To losing,” he toasts, and you can’t help laughing as you tip your head back to drink. He’s smirking as he swallows his down, then pours you another. “Hey, maybe Jungkook will throw me a commiseration party when we get back.”

You grimace automatically at the name as you take the bottle from him to fill his glass up, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. “Trouble in paradise?”

With a roll of your eyes, you determine that you need to be drunker for this. You take your shot, then instantly hold your glass out for Yoongi to pour another before he even gets to his. He obliges, and you throw it back immediately. The bottom of your glass hits the bar with a loud thud.

“I kinda… freaked out on him. Right before we left.”

Yoongi’s eyebrow lifts, questioning, as he drinks. “Any reason?” he prompts when he’s finished.

“Yes,” you answer stubbornly, tapping at the rim of your empty glass. He fills you up again, and you return the favor to finish the bottle. Yoongi motions to the bartender for another as you down your shot and steel yourself.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he offers.

“Don’t you want to hear that you were right?”

He shrugs like he can’t argue. “I mean, always.”

“Well for one, he asked if anything was going on between you and me.” You glance over to see Yoongi’s eyes widen slightly as he drinks. “I said no.”

“Uh huh.”

“And then he was like, ‘Good, I’m glad I don’t have to tell you to raise your standards.’”

Yoongi is clearly trying to keep his expression neutral, but it’s a losing battle. You can see the way his shoulders are starting to shake, and then he finally caves in, his palm smacking flat against the bar as he really laughs. “Wow,” he eventually recovers enough to huff, and you reach for the fresh soju bottle that’s been dropped off. “He really just said it.”

“Mm-hmm,” you intone, filling his glass and then handing the bottle back. Yoongi’s still chuckling a little as he pours your drink before taking his own, and you continue. “And then, I don’t know, there was some other stuff, and I was just like… oh fuck.”

“Because you realized he’s in love with you.”

You sigh dejectedly into your soju. “I’m so stupid.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, reaching for your glass once you’ve emptied it again. “You wanted to avoid an inconvenient truth. Just makes you human.”

There’s a pause as you take the bottle to pour his drink, and then his next words nearly make you choke as you throw back yours. “You should date Jungkook.”

You’re sure you must look entirely dumbfounded as you stare at him. “What?”

“What?” he retorts, like he hasn’t said anything shocking. “He’d be good for you.”

For a long moment, neither of you speak as you regard him. You finally shake your head, nudging your empty glass toward him until he gets the memo. “Don’t say shit like that,” you mutter under your breath, and you’re not sure if he hears it over the din of the bar.

“Besides,” you continue as you snatch the soju out of his hands to pour his drink, “I’ve tried dating a coworker before. It’s a bad idea.”

“Sounds like a good story.”

“It’s not, really,” you murmur, staring down at the liquid in your glass. “My last job I was a waitress.”

“Mm,” Yoongi interrupts with a hum as he takes his shot. “Waitress. I was close.”

You pour him another, mostly to keep him quiet. “Yeah yeah, you’re very fucking perceptive. Anyway, I dated another server for a couple years. He ended up cheating on me with one of the hostesses, but I was honestly kinda tired of him, so I was glad to end it.” You hear Yoongi snort a little at your fairly heartless admission. “But then I walked in on them fucking in the walk-in, and it put me in a bad mood. Long story short, I ended up throwing a drink on a customer and they had to let me go.”

“Christ,” he laughs, pausing for a moment to fully take in your words. “And now you’re a pain in my ass.”

You roll your eyes as you motion for another soju bottle. “Correct.”

“Sounds like your ex was an idiot.” You glance over to find Yoongi already looking at you. “I mean, in the walk-in is just… nasty.”

“That’s what I said!” Your mouth pulls up at the corners as you try to suppress a giggle. “I don’t think we can really judge anybody though.”

Yoongi blinks, staring blankly into the middle distance. “That conference room trash can condom still haunts me.”

With a loud laugh, you bury your face in your hands, and you can feel your cheeks burning from alcohol and embarrassment. You peer between your fingers as Yoongi sets down a fresh shot for you, and you gladly take it.

“People are stupid,” he remarks wisely. “That’s why I don’t date.” You quirk an eyebrow as he passes you the bottle.

“What, a prize like you?” you deadpan. “You just fuck people in bar bathrooms like a well-adjusted human?”

“Yeah,” he admits with a shrug. “So. Wanna check this one out?”

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, and you immediately smack him on the arm. He nearly spills his drink from laughter, and you can’t keep yourself from laughing a little, too. “I already gave it to you this morning, you freak.”

“Come on,” Yoongi’s voice is teasing, and he bumps his shoulder against yours when he leans in closer. “I had a hard night.”

Pouring him another drink is your only distraction, and you do it with the utmost focus. “This dress is a rental.”

“I can pay for it.” The heat of his breath ghosts over your collarbone as he answers. You shove the bottle hard into his chest, and he takes the cue to fill your glass again, still smirking as he pulls away.

“First,” you say, sounding more confident than you feel, especially with the way your pulse has started to quicken. Your expression is deadly serious as you turn to stare into Yoongi’s eyes and he stares right back. “You have to prove that you can keep up.”

When you swallow your shot easily to punctuate the dare, a look flashes over Yoongi’s face like he’s impressed, and then he follows your lead.

After a few more bottles, the bar is so crowded and so loud that you can hardly hear yourselves think, and you stumble out of it and into the next place you see, and then the next, and then the next. All bets are off tonight, and you’re not about to tell Yoongi that he can’t get fucking trashed considering he just lost at the fucking Grammys. You figure you’ll be able to sleep off your hangovers on the stupidly long flight home tomorrow.

With each stop, Yoongi’s mood seems to improve a little. He eventually drinks enough that his suit jacket and tie come off, and they end up draped over your shoulders, despite your loud protests that you don’t need any more responsibilities. With the sleeves of his white button-down pushed up, it gets increasingly hard to divert your attention away from his hands and the muscles in his forearms, especially as you get progressively drunker and drunker.

Yoongi’s palm brushes over the small of your back as you make your way out of the last place, his touch warm even through the velvet of your dress.

“I know it was your personal nightmare,” he murmurs, words slurring together slightly, “but I really am glad you came on this trip. I mean it,” he insists when you shoot him a look. “I would be fucking insufferable if I was alone tonight. And I definitely would’ve punched that label guy in the face.”

You exhale a laugh and nearly fall over in your heels, and Yoongi’s hand slips to your waist to keep you upright. “He deserved it.” You lean into him, not entirely for balance, and you can feel it when he shrugs.

“Sorry you didn’t get to meet Kendrick.”

The glow of the various open-late establishments and the glitter of the pavement under your feet are all beautiful, especially in your current state, and the night air is still and warm. As you approach the next building and are met with the dull thud of music, your eyes go wide.

“Oh, I just figured out how you can make it up to me.”

The noraebang is surprisingly busy given that it’s a Sunday night, but you’re still able to book a room, and you giggle your thanks as Yoongi opens his wallet to pay the hourly rate like it’s nothing. The two of you work your way through more bottles of beer and soju, and when you start up the karaoke and teasingly pick the HEIZE song he produced, you’re surprised that he actually joins you.

Yoongi must be able to read the expression on your face, because he smirks mid-song. “Let the record show that I am actually a very fun drunk.”

And he is. You sing dramatically and loudly, not caring if you hit the notes, jumping and dancing and occasionally dropping passionately to your knees before dissolving into laughter. At first you monopolize the controller, but after you force a third Kendrick song on him Yoongi gestures for it, and you begrudgingly hand it over.

Crossing the room, you kneel down to dig through the provided box of props, immediately spotting and slipping on a cat-eared headband. You glance up at the screen, eyes widening as you realize he’s searching through Epik High songs. “Do Love Love Love!”

When you look back at him, Yoongi is squinting at you, laughing a little at your new set of ears. “What the fuck do you know about Epik High?”

“What do you mean what the fuck do I know?” you snap back. “I love them! I should be asking you that question, Mr. ‘I don’t listen to music’!”

His mouth pulls into a grin, his tongue toying at the inside of his cheek. “I have a few exceptions, alright?”

Still knelt down, you flop sideways onto the floor when he selects Born Hater. “Ugh, I’m too drunk to say that many words.”

“I got this,” Yoongi reassures you, flipping his microphone coolly with one hand as he gets to his feet. You can’t help giggling dumbly from your spot on the ground as you drunkenly prop your feet on the booth and reach up to pull your high heels off.

If there’s one thing tonight has taught you, it’s that Yoongi has a really good voice, even raw and live and drunk as hell. You don’t know why it surprises you, but it does. To you, performing seems like a different world from writing and producing tracks, but he does it just as effortlessly, with no trace of the anxiety you’ve seen grip him in a crowded room. The passion in the way he growls and gasps out lyrics, even just in the way he moves, it’s all undeniable and exhilarating to watch. He raps like he has nothing left to lose, mouth pulled into a snarl, occasionally reaching up to push his sweaty hair back off his forehead.

You can only gaze up at him, awestruck, wondering how many different versions of Min Yoongi you have left to discover until you hit the bottom.

The two of you trade the controller back and forth until every bottle on the table is empty, until the words blur on the screen, until Yoongi flops over to lay down in the booth with his head hanging off the edge, clearly exhausted. “No more,” he groans. “I’m so tired. And so drunk.”

Hovering above him, you pry the controller from his grip with a smile, slipping the cat ears onto his head for an even exchange. And then you get an idea.

“Last song!” you assure him as you type, and he groans even louder when Cat & Dog starts to play.

“God, this song is terrible,” Yoongi complains, but you’re singing too loud to care about his critiques.

With a severe amount of effort, he pulls himself to a sitting position, and you kneel down in front of him, miming cat paws with your hands and wiggling your hips. “I didn’t know you were into petplay,” he deadpans, and you stick your tongue out, determined not to let him ruin your fun.

You get to your feet and turn toward the screen as the second chorus finishes, yelling over your shoulder, “This is my favorite part!”

“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”

When Yoongi’s voice suddenly reverberates from the other microphone, you almost drop yours. You whip around in complete disbelief. He’s on his feet and moving towards you as he continues the rap verse, the inarguable best part, with a renewed cocky energy. And you have to admit, he’s putting Yeonjun to shame.

“What the fuck!” you practically scream, but he just keeps going.

Seized by full-body drunk laughter, you stumble forward and nearly fall over, knocking into his chest. Though Yoongi’s reflexes are a little delayed, he still manages to right you without missing a word, one arm hooking around your waist. You swallow hard as you suddenly find yourself intimately close to the broad sweep of his collarbone, exposed between the top buttons of his shirt that came undone at some point during your debaucherous evening.

Fumbling for your microphone, you make it back to reality in time for the final chorus, only to fall entirely to pieces when Yoongi starts barking at full volume to match the outro. You can’t take it, and he’s not fast enough to keep you upright, so you drop straight down to the floor on hands and knees, laughing so hard it feels like your lungs might give out.

The microphone rolls dejectedly out of your grasp as you flop over onto your back, and you scrub your hands down your face, trying desperately to catch your breath as the song fades out.

“That was the best thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” you mumble into your palms. You uncover your face to look up at Yoongi, only to find him laughing down at you, still wearing the fucking cat headband. “I thought you hated that song.”

He rolls his eyes despite his smile. “Yeah, well, it was also stuck in my head for like a week after you played it that one night.”

You sit up with a dramatic glare. “Oh, you mean the night you stole my fucking keys?”

A proud smirk flickers over his mouth. “You know, I am sorry about that. Or at least sorry I couldn’t see the look on your face when you realized.” He tosses his microphone onto the booth bench next to his abandoned suit jacket, then reaches down with both hands to pull you to your feet. It belatedly occurs to you that you might’ve left his tie at the last bar, but you’re too drunk to give it another thought.

“I hate you so much,” you say, though you can’t quite keep your expression serious. “Fuck, I should’ve taken a video. Could’ve used it for blackmail.”

Yoongi’s voice is lower when he speaks again, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close to you he is, the fact that his hands are still closed over yours. “Guess you’re the only one who’ll ever know.”

“Mmm,” you hum, swaying a little where you stand. His palms slip to your waist to keep you steady as you blink up at him, and your hands flatten against his chest, your fingertips tracing over the buttons of his shirt. “You look good in cat ears.”

“Shut up,” Yoongi murmurs, and then his mouth is on yours.

Your hands reach up to tangle in his long dark hair, knocking the headband to the floor, and with the amount of alcohol currently coursing through your system, you don’t have a single inhibition left in you. You kiss Yoongi like you can’t fucking breathe without him.

He pulls you as close as he can, until your bodies are flush all the way down, and you don’t ever want it to be any other way. You want it just like this, sucking and nibbling at his bottom lip until his tongue licks your mouth open and you groan into him. Just like this: his palms moving down to grab your ass unapologetically, your grip on his hair tightening, even your teeth knocking together with how drunk and desperate you are for each other. Just like this: two stupid, wildly flawed humans in black tie attire, making out in a Ktown noraebang at two in the morning on a Monday.

The sound of the door opening might as well be a gunshot for how loud it feels, and you just barely manage to jump apart as an employee pokes their head in.

“Hey, we’re closing in five.”

You don’t realize you’re not breathing until you hear the door click shut again, and your gasp for air quickly turns into an overwhelmed, embarrassed laugh. Yoongi groans drunkenly, running a hand through his hair, then sighs out a long exhale, like he’s trying to calm down.

“Come on,” you giggle, still close enough to tug playfully at one of his belt loops. “Let’s get out of here.”

Thankfully a cab is still easy to flag down even this late. The two of you manage to pour yourselves into the backseat and give the driver the name of the hotel. It’s not a terribly long drive, and you watch wide-eyed out the window as the sprawl of Los Angeles rushes by, painted in neon glow and the amber wash of streetlights.

Yoongi slumps against you, and he goes quiet for so long you think he might be asleep. When he finally shifts again, he presses his face into your shoulder with a noise of discomfort, and you’re suddenly worried he might be silent for a very different reason.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, trying to keep your voice low. “Don’t puke in the cab.”

“Stupid,” he responds, and you figure he must not be doing that bad if he can still talk.

You run your fingers through the soft, dark strands of his hair, admiring the texture, the way it’s nearly long enough now to graze his shoulders. “What’s stupid?”

“I’m—” he tries, but the car dips over a pothole, and he’s talking so quietly you lose the rest.

“You’re what?”

It’s quiet for a moment, save for the click of the turn signal.

“In love with you.”

His words stun you where you sit, and you have no idea what to do, say, think. You just keep twining your fingers through his hair, like you’re stuck on auto-pilot, distantly aware that every alarm bell in your inebriated brain is going off. It feels like way too much to try and process any of it right now. It feels like a trap.

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” you finally answer. Yoongi just stays slumped against you, and he doesn’t say another word.

The cab drops you off at the hotel, and it’s quiet between the two of you as you get him up to the room. You feel like you’re watching yourself from a distance, and it’s like your brain isn’t processing any of this as really happening, as if to keep you from thinking too hard about the big picture. From what it all could mean.

In the bathroom, you stand over the sink as you lend Yoongi your makeup remover and you both brush your teeth.

“Contacts,” you remind him through a mouthful of toothpaste when he spits out the last of his, and he nods sleepily.

“You don’t have to… administrate me all the time,” Yoongi slurs as he carefully slips one lens and then the other out of his eyes.

You spit out your own toothpaste, then sigh as you rinse the sink clean. “Well, you’re very drunk, and it’s my fault.”

“It was fun,” he says quietly, fumbling the case closed.

“It was,” you echo. “Really.”

The bathroom door is half-open on its sliding track, and you glance up in the mirror to see Yoongi hovering in the threshold, looking back at you as you wipe away stray traces of mascara from under your eyes. You think he’s going to leave, but then he steps in behind you again, and you feel his hand slide up the small of your back to ease the zipper of your dress open.

Something in your heart twists as you stare down at the marble counter, and you can already tell this isn’t meant to be flirtatious. That thought is confirmed when you finally look up, only to find yourself left entirely alone.

With a small sigh, you slide the bathroom door shut, then flip the switch to turn on the fan. The white noise still doesn’t feel like enough, so you run the shower as well, then grab a plastic water bottle from the counter to chug. You retreat into the far corner with your phone, scrolling until you find the name of the only person who can possibly help you right now.

“Hey babe,” Jimin answers on the third ring. “I’m at rehearsal so I really can’t chat. You good?”

“Yoongi said he loves me,” you answer immediately, and the reality of it hits you impossibly hard as soon as you say it out loud.

“Uh-oh.”

“But,” you lean back until your head knocks against the wall. “He’s drunk as shit. I— we are drunk as shit.”

There’s a pause, and you swear you hear Jimin laugh a little under his breath. “He really said it, huh?”

“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”

“And?”

You grimace at the flippant response from your supposed best friend. “What do you mean and?! What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.

“On?” you snap, impatient.

“Have you realized you’re in love with him yet? ‘Cause if I have to hear you babble on about this man for another week without piecing it together, I really might lose it.”

His words actually make your stomach churn. “Jimin!”

“I—” he sounds like he’s preparing to explain himself, but then he pauses, and his voice is quieter when he speaks again. “Fuck, I’m getting yelled at. I gotta go. Call me tomorrow.”

You want to scream at him to stay, to help, that he can’t just unravel you like this and then leave you to figure it out for yourself. “Mochi, I’m on the fucking plane tomorrow—”

“I’ll come over when you get home!” Jimin interrupts. “And then you can tell me the entire story of you two finally figuring out how to be normal humans with feelings.” You scoff at his biting remark, but he’s already talking over you. “You’re smart, you got this, I love you!”

You hear him blow a dramatic kiss into the speaker, and then the line goes dead.

The world spins around you as you stare helplessly at the silent black screen of your phone, and you can’t shove it all down anymore. It’s overwhelming, all of the things that you’re feeling in this moment, so much so that you can’t even identify what you feel. It’s just a giant, tangled mess, in your brain and in your heart. The tears spill out like you’ve been holding them in for weeks, hard and fast, until you can scarcely catch your breath. You scrub at the first few that roll down your cheeks, but they continue relentlessly, and you eventually give up and just let it all pour out.

You don’t know how long you stay like that, crying on the bathroom floor. You can’t even really explain why you’re crying, except that everything inside of you feels like too much to handle.

There’s a dull ache in your head by the time you finally manage to cry yourself dry, and then you peel yourself off the floor to slip out of your dress and shut off the shower. You pull on the tank top and sleep shorts you’d grabbed earlier from the bedroom, trying to avoid your swollen face in the mirror as you turn the lights out and shut the door behind you.

Yoongi has left the lamp on your bedside on, and you immediately flip it off to plunge the room into darkness, not wanting him to see you like this. He stirs slightly when you slip under the covers, and you can feel the mattress shift as he turns over.

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his arm slides over your stomach to pull your body flush to his, and his lips brush at the join of your neck and shoulder. As confusing as it should be, there’s something about the weight of him pressed into you that relaxes you, even through your current haze of emotion. You allow yourself to sink back against him, to breathe deeper, though your inhales are still a little shaky.

Yoongi’s rough voice in your ear pulls you up from the edge of sleep. “Did I fuck everything up?”

You sniff softly, and your own reply is barely more than a whisper. “No, Yoongi, it’s okay. Let’s just sleep."

As you hear him settle in beside you again, you make a promise that you’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. You’ll figure out how you really feel, and how he does, and what you want, and what the hell you’re supposed to do about it all. But tonight, you just want this: to lay here with Yoongi and pretend your entire world isn’t about to change when you wake up.

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

A/N: oh hiiiiii, super secret bonus author's note down here!!! just wanted to share that, now that we're officially through the grammys, that means we are down to just two more chapters left in the series!!! i held off confirming the full length of LDOMLT until we got to this point (and honestly i could've easily split this into two chapters but i am NICE and i did not give you the WORST CLIFFHANGER OF ALL TIME LMAO) - but now i'm sure. chapter 11 will be the final one. gonna do my best to get 10 and 11 up before end of year, or by very early 2023 at the latest!!! and thank u, as always, for reading 💜💜💜

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #look down on me like that

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elysianslove · 4 years ago

Text

the little things ; haikyuu boys

synopsis; the little things he does that show just how much he loves you

pairings; karasuno x reader, aoba johsai x reader, fukurodani x reader, nekoma x reader, shiratorizawa x reader

genre; fluff

warnings; will make u hate being single <3

karasuno ━━

sugawara koshi; whenever your hair gets caught in anything, he’s so gentle yet quick at fixing it. if your hair is long, and you pull a bag or a shirt and your hair gets tucked in, he’ll wordlessly pull it out. if your hair is short and a bracelet or zipper gets caught he just continues whatever he was doing (talking to someone else for e.g.) while helping you out. also always makes sure your hair isn’t bothering you; if you’re leaning over writing something, he’ll always tuck it behind your ear so lovingly ahhh

daichi sawamura; massages. he’s descended from heaven for this purpose only. his hands are rough and like hard on your muscles, but it’s so perfect. he’ll approach you when you’re in school sitting anywhere, from behind, and just knead his hands into your muscles for a few seconds. euphoric. or if you live together, he always greets you with back/shoulder/neck massages in the bathtub hvjkwkd.

nishinoya yuu; always makes you try his food. always. whether it’s with a group of people or just you two, he just goes “hey babe open ur mouth” with this face 😏 bc he’s cheeky, and just shoves a mouthful of food. spoiler alert, it’s always way too hot. but it’s just tradition at this point. he takes a bite of his food, decides if it’s worthy enough for your mouth or not, then just. yeah.

kageyama tobio; buys you a snack whenever he gets his milk. if you’re special special, he’ll buy you your own carton of milk. he goes up to the vending machine and automatically thinks of you when he sees your fave snack, and it’s like mindless at this point he just routinely does it. it still surprises you to this day, even when he’s so nonchalant about it.

tsukishima kei; kisses your forehead. tsukki is not too big on pda, and even privately he’s not very touchy feely either tbh. but just a simple peck on your forehead grounds you, and it’s a small reminder of the fact that despite his outward coldness, he really does love you. he rarely does it in front of others, but sometimes, he’ll indulge both you and him, and settle a small kiss on your temple just randomly.

asahi azumane; anime jesus always has a hair tie/clip carried around for you on his wrist/in his pockets. i mean he’s always needing them, he just stocks up when he starts dating you. somehow he’s always there when you’re frustrated with your hair all over the place what a savior. later on it evolves to him carrying around your scrunchie and yes the boys make fun yes he blushes but no he does not take it off.

tanaka ryunosuke; carries you on his back, or your things, when you’re too tired to walk. whether that be if you’re too tired because of your heels or you’re just lazy, he just loves helping you out what a respectful gentleman. honestly it just becomes that every time he sees you he like barricades over to you so quick and flips you onto his shoulder or spins you around. anyways. walking with tanaka means walking empty handed bc he will never let you carry anything. ( shifts pile of bags on one arm just to hold your hand ).

hinata shoyo; learns hairstyles to try on you. whether it be short hair or long hair, expect his youtube search history to look a lot like “how to make a french braid” or “cute hairstyles for short hair for your cute girlfriend”. he’s always so entranced by you and watches so carefully whenever you do anything on your hair, and he gets do excited whenever you let him try and he gets it right. also !!! a lot of the times you’ll sit between his legs and he’ll just softly card his fingers through your hair or lightly braid it.

yamaguchi tadashi; buys you flowers a lot. he doesn’t overdo it, just so it doesn’t lose its value and worth. but for example, mondays suck ass and he knows how much you hate them, so he always makes sure to either leave a single rose on your desk/in your locker or give it to you himself if he can. it’s so endearing and motivating honestly, and the constant reminder every once in a while is so cute. continues to do it even like 3 years in, which is so fkn sweet honestly.

nekoma ━━

kuroo tetsurō; plans the best dates. seriously. like not one moment spent with him is dull. i don’t think being with kuroo entails a high energy relationship, i just mean that even a walk in the park is fun with him. he also always knows when to plan a fancy dinner and when it’s just something casual. like he always puts in so much effort, gives 120%, for every date with you. is your favorite band/singer/artist in town? he’s got tickets. the weather is amazing? you’re going to the beach. you’re sleep deprived? nap dates. 10/10

kozume kenma; he teaches you how to play his games. the fact that he’s letting you touch the console in itself says enough, but whenever he buys a new one, and learns it thoroughly enough, he will always sit by you and teach you its ways. picture you sitting in his lap while he guides your hands <333 if you’re not a gamer, he’s actually v flattered by the fact you’re willing to sit through this w him. but if you are a gamer, expect daily competitions. oh and if you beat him? you’re dead to him :).

haiba lev; instead of reaching for things that you’re too short for to grab it himself, he just lifts you up lmfao. i mean w the way he teases yaku, i can imagine he’d be v teasing with you as well if you’re even an inch shorter than him. but fret not! it’s all in the name of love. he’s very loving though, and if he sees you struggling he’ll just wordlessly hoist you up from your waist or something. at first it’s terrifying, but later on it just makes you giggle cause he’s like so willing to do it and it’s effortless for him hehe.

yaku morisuke; always makes sure you’re taking care of yourself, but kinda aggressively? lmao anyways. like he’s always “babe have u eaten” and if u say no expect him to start yelling like “what do you mean no??? are you insane???” v dramatic but honestly <333 he’s always texting you after parting ways “did you get home safe” or on weekends where he cant meet you, he’s asking how it was, if you indulged yourself a bit, relaxed. it’s very sweet and he makes sure it’s not overbearing. he just wants his baby to be healthy and happy.

yamamoto taketora; walks on the side with the cars. it’s not a very noticeable thing, but you see it, and you recognize it. he makes sure he’s always walking where cars are speeding by, a hand on the small of your back guiding you away and to the other side of him. it’s the little notions of protectiveness like if he’s driving and stops suddenly, he’ll put a hand out to keep you from lurching forward, he pushes you gently out of the way before you bump into someone. things like that.

aoba johsai ━━

oikawa tōru; he doodles in your notebooks, or on your skin. if you have class with him, and sit next to him, he’ll always be doodling on your notebook like little hearts or stupid, cute things like your initials + his in a heart. or if you’re at a study date together, and you’re focused on your laptop screen, he’ll leave little encouraging messages on your notes for you to notice when you’re revising. sometimes you’ll be sitting with him at lunch or even if you’re out w him and a bunch of other people, and he happens to have a pen. expect a little smiley face on your inner wrist, or a heart plus his initials ( o.t. )

iwaizumi hajime; he helps you take off your make up/takes it off for you. if you’re too sleepy, he’ll just take the products he’s used to seeing you use and start following it step by step after he props you up next to the sink. while he stands between your thighs he just so gently starts rubbing at your skin and washing away the make up. if you’re already asleep, he’ll have to like google the steps oh my god im gonna cry hes so cute. if you don’t necessarily wear make up, then he’ll just help you do your nightly routine, or even your shower routine, like using a body scrub or a face mask or, bruh, even shaving lmfao.

hanamaki takahiro; saves everything you buy/send/make him. i mean everything. has literally over two thousand photos of you, all the polaroids or postcards are saved in a little box he has under his bed. anything you make him (unless it’s edible) he has. if you make him a small embroidery thing he will literally attach it to his sports bag or something. any chain you make him is automatically added to his keychain. that flower crown you made with him on one of your first dates? he still has it. the flowers are dead but the memory loves babyyyy

matsukawa issei; carries extra clothes of his for you to borrow. hey have i mentioned that mattsun is big? 😃 because he is 😃. meaning regardless of your size or height or whatever, his clothes will drown you <3 i see him as preferring more oversized or just loose shirts rather than tight ones, so yk. on you???? if y’all are just hanging out and you even think about being slightly cold — here have five options of mattsun’s clothes to choose from. he always makes sure they smell like him too. it’s self indulgent really, because he loves the way they look on you, and he loves that it leaves a trace of his scent on you. territorial? i think yes.

fukurodani ━━

bokuto kōtarō; always hugs you like it’s the last time he’ll see you. sometimes, even if he doesn’t know it, you need his hugs badly. y’all are gonna try and tell me bokuto doesn’t give the best fkn hugs??? yeah get outta here with that bs. he SO does. he either kneels down and wraps his arms around your waist, picks you up, and spins you around, like he hasn’t seen you in 3 years, or he’ll just wrap his arms around your neck and pull your head to his chest, cradling it, and just sighing like he won’t see you for the next 3 years. his hugs always make you feel so much better, even if you weren’t feeling down to begin with.

akaashi keiji; plays with your hands and caresses them. it’s the delicate feel and gentleness of it all. akaashi’s generally an anxious person, leaving him very fidgety. but once you two get together, and he starts being comfortable with you, expect to find your hand always between the two of his, just fondling with him. he’ll trace random figurines on the back of your hand, or have his fingers ghost over your wrist and up to your fingertips. if his hands are especially shaky, expect him to just grab one of your yours and hold it tightly between the grasp of two of his. it conveys trust, and all you have to do is kiss his knuckles gently and he’s melting.

konoha akinori; he has your reminders app linked with his, and sneaks in small, motivating messages. every once in a while you’ll get a notification from the app that tells you to drink water or have a snack (or text konoha he’s bored and he misses you). also always sends you pictures to distract you from stress. like it could literally just be a picture of him smiling with a thumbs up and you’d just ,,, melt bc you love him so much.

shiratorizawa ━━

ushijima wakatoshi; he has so many plants that are named after you, or your nicknames, and he’s like so gentle with them too. like strokes their petals and speaks to them so softly, the same way he does with you. you’re honestly so curious how he hasn’t run out of names, but he’s just a genius like that. whenever you go over to his place, and he’s bought a new one, he’ll take your hand and guide you to where it’s growing and just be like “look it’s baby y/n” and you just 🥺🥺🥺

semi eita; he has a playlist on his phone, that’s constantly being updated, for you and him to listen to. the first time he showed it to you, you were stargazing and he took out his phone and headphones and was like “i made a playlist for you wanna list” and every part of your body lit up in flames im not joking. now, a lot of the times, you’re coming back home on a train, and your head is on his shoulder and you’re sharing headphones listening to the playlist. when either one of you is driving you’re blasting it (a lot of the playlist is the hsm soundtrack)

satori tendō; tendo reads people so well, and being in a relationship with him means he will read you so well. so a lot of the times, in social situations, he’ll recognize the signs of you wanting to leave, for example, or if someone’s bothering you, he’ll know exactly how to approach it too. this also entails having a lotta inside jokes hehe, and also just like. talking with your eyes. yk that thing. yeah. all you have to do is look at him a certain way, and he just knows exactly what you just said.

goshiki tsutomu; he buys the both of you this small plushie, and whenever you’re missing each other you just. squish it. and he squishes his. he would rather die than let anyone know this, but you’re not too keen on letting anyone know yourself tbh. it’s just this little thing you have, and it means a lot more to you than just this. when he first bought it he was like “look we have matching plushies” and you passed away on the spot ❤️

shirabu kenjirō; loves trying out new recipes with you. he’s not too big on cooking or baking, but there’s just something about doing it with you that really — hits the spot yk. nowadays, whenever he comes across a new recipe on social media that he thinks you’ll like he just automatically sends it to you like with no words no texts just the post and you’re like “OMG CAN WE DO THIS” and he’s like “why else would i send it. yes we can :)” hvskwkeke

end note; thank you sm for the love on my last two posts!! i’m glad you guys enjoyed them sm. if you have any requests, they’re open and i’m happy to deliver, mwah!

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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

Text

Pretty Boy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’ve been away for two days and Bucky broke your only rule.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Pure filth, no plot or whatsoever, semi-sub!Bucky??? praise kink, mutual masturbation, thigh riding, cockwarming lmfao we’re going all in with this one

A/N: Inspired by @acrabbybish‘s ask about Bucky having a praise kink mhmmmm and thanks to my nasty babes for pitching in with them nasty ideas for this one @sarge-barnes-sir @borikenlove @bitchassbucky

MAIN MASTERLIST

Familiar grunts welcomed your ears the very moment you stepped into your home. You’d only been gone for the weekend but it seemed as if someone missed you to the point of breaking the only rule you gave him.

“Don’t touch yourself while I’m away. Be a good boy for me, hm?”

You carefully removed your shoes and left it at the door before making your way to the bedroom as quietly as you could. The nearer you came, the louder the groans were.

“Oh fuuuck...”

As much as you were disappointed at Bucky for failing to follow your rule, you couldn’t help but bite your lip at the scene when you slightly pushed the bedroom door open. Bucky was on the bed, back resting against the headboard and his legs wide apart with no clothes on except for his dog tags.

His head was thrown back, his Adam’s apple bobbing every time he let out a delicious grunt as he desperately fisted his hard cock. Bucky’s hairline and chest were glistening with sweat, his neck and ears red— he’d been at it for quite a while now.

“Hmm yes, yes...oh god...”

You could tell that Bucky was close with the way his hips were thrusting into his hand. His groans were becoming needy whimpers, his curses garbled due to his impending climax.

Watching Bucky touch himself was spectacular, there’s a certain amount of desperation from him that you enjoyed seeing. How his face was scrunched up in pleasure, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. The way his large hand fisted his cock while the vibranium one fondled with his balls the same way you would.

And witnessing Bucky make himself cum? Fuck, you could get off from that image alone— hips lifting off of from the bed, his hand jerking his cock in quick and firm strokes followed by ropes of his cum spurting all over his stomach.

As much as you enjoyed seeing him like this, so needy and so fucking horny, you needed to step in to interrupt.

Your pretty boy did break a rule after all.

“You might want to hold off on that one, baby.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped open at the sound of your voice, mouth open agape as he watched you slip inside the bedroom. His hand was still wrapped around his cock, his thighs trembling and you weren’t sure whether it was from his upcoming orgasm or if he was that pleased to see you back.

You hoped it was the latter.

“Shit, baby I’m sorry—“

“How many?” You cut him off, slowly beginning to strip off your clothes.

Bucky swallowed, “I didn’t mean to, I just missed you and—“

“Bucky.” You called out. “How many times did you cum?” You asked again and judging by the tone of your voice, Bucky knew better than to evade it.

He let go of his cock, letting it slap against his abdomen smearing his pre-cum all over his chiseled abs. “Going on three.” He said softly, his eyes following you around the room as you moved around.

Bucky’s mouth watered at the sight of you in just a pair of black bra and panties, what he wouldn’t do to get his hands on you again. Two days. You were gone for just two days and Bucky almost lost his mind. Not being able to see you, touch you and feel you...taste you, it drove him insane that he needed to do something about it despite your rule.

“You wanna tell me something? Hm?” You asked, standing at the foot of the bed with your arm reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.

A whine resounded from Bucky’s throat when you freed your breasts, throwing aside your bra before climbing up the bed.

“I couldn’t be without you. Two days is too long for me, baby. Wanted your hands and mouth on me so bad it was almost painful.” Bucky practically whined, licking his lips when you started crawling towards him.

You pressed a soft kiss on Bucky’s chest when you reached him, your fingers fiddling with his dog tags as you straightened up to straddle his thighs.

“Is that right? My pretty boy missed me?” You asked, breath ghosting against Bucky’s jaw as you teased him with feathery kisses.

He whimpered as he enthusiastically nodded, “I only broke your rule ‘cause I missed you so bad.”

You hummed as you nosed his neck, taking in his scent as your hand reached down to tease his aching cock. You let a finger trace the vein on the underside of his shaft, the pad of your finger barely touching his skin making Bucky thrust his hips upward.

“But baby, a rule is a rule.” You said, licking his cheek before leaning back on your haunches.

Bucky was panting as he gazed at you pleadingly with half-lidded eyes. His chest rising and falling with every heavy breath he took, his cock twitching with its need for release.

“Baby, please...” Bucky softly pleaded.

You laughed with amusement, “Please what, Bucky? What do you want?”

“Want your hands on me, please. Need to cum for you.” He whimpered.

You gripped his cock with nor warning, firm but not too tight. Just enough to have Bucky hissing from the feeling of your hand on his cock. Finally.

“Will you be a good boy for me?” You asked, slowly stroking his cock.

Bucky choked on a grunt as he nodded enthusiastically, “God, yes.” He stuttered.

“You can’t cum until I tell you to do so, mmkay? That’s the least you can do for breaking my rule, can you do that?” You asked again, twisting your fist around the head of Bucky’s oversensitive cock.

He nodded again, licking his lips before leaning forward to press a kiss on your own. “Yes, baby. Gonna do anything for you.” He panted.

You grinned before speeding up your hand around Bucky’s cock, “That’s it, pretty boy.” You cooed.

“Baby...fuck...god, yes...” Bucky continued to moan, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him as you continued to stroke his cock.

His thighs were trembling and his abdomen constricting as you sped up, only to pull away to scratch at his thick thighs. Bucky let out a wanton whimper as he writhed, his orgasm almost there but not quite.

“Gonna cum, baby?” You teased and Bucky was quick to shake his head no.

“Holding it in for you.” He said.

You kissed his lips and then nuzzled his nose with yours, “You’re doing so good for me, Bucky.” You whispered, biting his earlobe and tugging it as you pulled back.

“Still not cumming?” You asked again as you began to pet his cock.

Bucky groaned, his cock hot and twitching at the slightest touch. A growl resounded from his chest as he gritted his teeth, holding himself back from letting go when you continued to pet his cock.

“N-no...” he stammered.

You were so impressed by how Bucky was doing such a good job at holding himself back from his orgasm. “So good, Bucky. You make me so proud of you.” You said, kissing his cheek before completely letting go of his aching cock.

“D’you wanna cum?” You asked as you let your hands caress your thighs, sliding upwards to fondle with your own tits.

Bucky moaned and nodded, “Yes, please. Want it so bad...”

“In one condition though...” you said. “Only if you cum with me.”

Not even waiting for a response, you pushed your underwear aside and started rubbing your wet folds, your eyes glued onto Bucky’s. His mouth parted as he watched you play with yourself, your nimble fingers circling down on your clit.

Bucky started to jerk his cock, hissing when he felt himself slowly teetering back on the edge of his climax. You watched him with lidded eyes, fingers speeding up in unison with Bucky’s pace.

A loud moan slipped past your lips when you inserted two fingers into your cunt, the squelching sound of your wetness making Bucky whimper.

“Almost there, baby.” You moaned and positioned yourself to straddle Bucky’s thigh.

You pumped your fingers in and out of you a couple more times before slipping them out to rub at your clit instead. Bucky growled when you started rubbing your pussy against his thigh, riding him as you chased your own climax.

Bucky’s thigh muscles flexed beneath your cunt when he squeezed his cock tighter while fisting it at the same pace you were riding his thigh.

Your wetness dripping down on his skin, your moans and just the image of you pleasuring yourself in front of him brought Bucky the satisfaction he’d been chasing.

“Bucky, fuck. You’re doing so well, gonna cum so hard.” You whimpered and slapped your pussy continuously until you came with him.

A chorus of curses and moans echoed around the bedroom as the both of you basked in both your orgasms. Bucky aimed his cum towards you, coating your clit and his thigh with his mess, mixing with your juices as it dripped down to soak the sheets beneath Bucky’s leg.

You fell down towards him, leaning your head against his shoulder as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm. Bucky turned and pressed a kiss on the side of your head, grinning in bliss.

“Fuck, I missed you so bad.” He said as his vibranium fingers began to trace patterns on your back.

You hummed and kissed his shoulder before resting your cheek against it, “That was amazing, you should really start breaking rules more often.” You chuckled and finally sat up straight.

You raised your eyebrow when you noticed that Bucky’s cock was still hard. Three orgasms and he was still erect?

Super soldiers truly are something else.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked suspiciously when you fixed your position and went back to straddling his waist.

Bucky let out a grunt when you gripped his cock and sunk down on it, squealing when you felt it pulsate within you.

“Want to keep you warm, baby.” You said and when Bucky thought you were going to give him the ride of his life, you started rubbing your clit with your fingers.

“I still haven’t forgiven you for breaking the rule. So sit back, relax and enjoy the show.” You teased and sped up your assault on your bud as another hand went up to pinch your nipple.

“And no cumming until I make a mess on your cock.”

Everything Bucky Tag List:

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#bbb writes #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #sebastian stan

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legends-of-apex · 4 years ago

Text

‘Finally’ - Kung Lao x Reader (smut)

Rating: 18+ for smut

Word count: 5,000 words (I know it’s a lot, lmfao)

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long!! Just really wanted to make it good :D there’s so little written for him that I just had to! In short, Kung Lao and the reader have been pining for one another for months and finally decide to do something about it. This fic contains both fluff and smut. Reader is AFAB. Hope you all enjoy, please feel free to let me know what you think and thank you for reading :D

You were trapped between him and the table. His arms on either side of you, braced against the table’s edge so he could lean down to your level where you sat. “It’s very rude you know. To tease your friends.” His eyes held a challenge, a sprinkle of mischief that never seemed to leave when he was with you.

“We were never just friends though were we?”

You weren’t sure why a sudden burst of boldness had overcome you. Perhaps it had something to do with the absolutely unbearable frustration that had been training with him mere moments ago. You were both so distracted by one another and intent on teasing with small jesters and jabs that you couldn’t take it for another minute, delighted when the sudden appearance of the moon relieved the necessity to train. You couldn’t be sure exactly what had sparked it that day but one thing you were sure of was that you wanted him. And you needed him to know that.

It was selfish. Of course it was, but something deep within your gut was begging you to just do something about the way you felt.

“Sounds like you’ve been having some improper thoughts.” He was joking but his voice held little semblance of his usual jest, the tone soft almost timid as he took one of your hands in his and brought your knuckles to his lips. He looked as though he was almost apologetic for having such an effect on you.

Romantic affection and other such distractions weren’t permitted by Raiden. But right now, being so close to Kung Lao, you couldn’t have cared less about what Raiden did or did not permit. His scent was all around you, coupled with the dirt from the fight pit where a kick had sent him tumbling. You swallowed hard, attempting to calm the strange feeling in your stomach in response to his affection.

“Most of my thoughts of you are improper.” That was it then, you’d finally done something that feeling. It was pointless pretending like you didn’t care for one another. You were done with this, done with the longing glances and the pining.

Moving your hand away from his lips so he could speak, he instead pressed your palm to the red dragon enshrined on his chest plate. You were so close together now that he seemed to have a hard time concentrating on your eyes, his gaze instead directed towards your lips. “Perhaps some meditation might remedy the issue.” His tone held absolutely no sense that he meant or likely even knew what he was saying. He was far too focused on drinking the image of you this close to him into his mind.

“It just…” you allowed yourself to lean in closer to him so your lips almost grazed his as you held his cheek in your free hand,”...doesn’t quite scratch the itch.”

“Oi, if you two are going to fuck in here at least let me get in on the action!” Kano’s grating drawl cut straight through whatever moment you had.

Lao moved to stand up straight and likely confront him, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, but you took hold of his forearm, silently asking him to stay. The both of you turned your heads to glare at the man and for once he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, “Well, worth a try! I’ll leave you to it. Don’t fuck on the table, we gotta eat there tomorrow!” With that, he left.

As soon as Kano rounded the corner, Lao turned back to face you and before he could even register it, you pressed your lips to his. The exchange was soft, sudden. But you felt him smile into the kiss and cup your cheek with his hand. His lips were so gentle. You couldn’t help but sigh when he deepened the kiss just a little, clearly testing where the boundary lay. You had both been holding back so much for so long, and yet you held back still for now.

When you pulled back for a little air, you kept your cheek pressed against his, wanting him close. “Finally,” you whispered and he smiled once more. The tension between you felt like it had finally subsided, even just a little. You pulled away a little more to get a better look at him, admire him in his hazy state. “Finally,” he agreed.

That one singular word was enough to reassure you that he’d had the same issues you had for a while now. You had been pining for him from the moment you met him when you first entered the temple. His cheeky smile and bold words had you hooked. Not to mention literally everything else about him. And you had noticed, the way he looked at you sometimes like he was gazing at the stars. The quick glances at dinner or in training that sometimes weren’t all that quick or subtle. The softest of touches when your fingers grazed his when he would pass you a plate or fill your glass with water without you having to ask him to pass the jug. The way Lui Kang would shake his head at him whenever Lao was a little too excited to help you with something or even just to spend time with you. All of this and more should have told you that he’d felt the same, but you were far too engrossed in the potential scandal of it all to put two and two together. Lord Raiden would surely have your heads for falling prey to such distractions and for breaking Kung Lao’s vows.

“So what now?” You asked him, hoping, just silently praying that he’d take the hint of how much you needed him right now. Hell, you’d have dropped to your knees before him there and then if you could be sure Kano wouldn’t interrupt. He pulled back from you, extending to his full height once more, grabbing his hat and offering you his hand to take.

“What would you like to do?” He asked, his face held a look of almost pleading but his pride and the public setting wouldn’t let him do so. It was then as he held his hand out to you in invitation that you noticed just how tightly the thin leather cords were tied around his upper arms and how wonderfully under stress the cord seemed right now. One side of his mouth quirked up into a smile like he could hear exactly what your mind was screaming, he saw you admiring his thick arms. He had done many times. The slight hitch in your throat at his question too told him everything he needed to know about what you wanted right now but he wanted to hear you say it.

“I think….” You took his hand, trailing your finger over the centre of his large palm before entwining your fingers with his, “That we should take this somewhere a little more private. I mean unless you want Kano to join..”

He looked like he wanted to devour you. His chest heaved a little, tongue darting out to wet his lips as you rose from your place at the table. He couldn’t speak properly, couldn't believe you truly wanted this with him. So many days spent pining for one another yet he still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that you wanted him, not Liu Kang or anyone else, him. You tugged on his hand lightly, yanking him out of his thoughts and towards your bedroom.

As you hastily unlocked your room with your keys, he couldn’t help but place only the faintest of kisses along your neck from where he stood behind you. His hands found your waist and circled round to meet at your middle, your back pulled flush against his chest. You were so beyond touch starved that even the faintest of touches had you in pieces. You couldn’t help the soft moans that slipped from your lips when he bit down on your skin ever so gently. And he couldn’t help what hearing that sweet sound did to him.

When you flung the door open and tugged him inside, all bets were off about being reserved. His hands were all over you, trying to make up for the lost time that he could have been touching you. Kicking the door shut behind you, you pulled him against you once more. Desperate to have him close. The metallic rattle of his hat hitting the floor rang throughout the room. His lips were far less gentle on yours now and you loved every second of it. A slight nip of his bottom lip between your teeth had him groaning. Such a gorgeous sound. He had you pinned against the door in his efforts to be near you. You were thankful as it gave you just enough leverage to hike your leg over his hip. He took that as his queue to lift your other leg up too, bracing you against the door with his strong arms supporting you.

At the new angel, he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing kiss after kiss, light bite and after light bite to your soft flesh. You dragged your fingers through his dark hair, careful not to undo the red ribbon he had so carefully tied. A gasp escaped you when he kissed his way down to your chest, mouthing his way over any exposed skin he could find.

You wanted to tell him to just take you then and there. To shove your underwear aside and have you against your bedroom door. But his stature was far more caring than that right now. He was wound tightly, the hardness against your thigh told you that much. So much pent up tension between the two of you and yet he treated you as though you were glass. You’d soon fix that.

“Bed. Please.”

He carefully carried you towards your bed and set you down, mouth never leaving your skin as he did. When he released you to remove his robes you couldn’t help but stare at him. Of course, you’d seen him bare-chested in training many a time before, but it was a view of which you would never tire. His chest was strong and broad, the muscles were defined and well-worked but benefitted from a soft layer above them so his skin was soft to the touch. You couldn’t help it, dragging your fingers over his chest and stomach. You felt each shiver that wracked through him at your touch and revelled in the way his chest heaved from your fingertips alone.

His hand came to shadow your own, near dwarfing it beneath his as he held your palm over his heart as he had done mere minutes before, “Are you sure you want this?” His voice was low, heavy with want, but gentle. You could see the desperation in his eyes. You shared it too.

“More than anything.” You replied, and he smiled, taking your hand and carefully pressing your knuckles to his warm lips for a long moment as though he was almost praying to you. Butterflies spread throughout your stomach, you couldn’t believe the effect he had upon you.

“In that case, lay back,” you quirked a brow at that,”I want to taste you.” He clarified.

You hadn’t been expecting that. You did as you were told for once, shuffling back onto your bed but propping yourself up on your elbows so you could see what he was doing. He ever so gently undid your shoes and slipped those, followed by your socks, off your feet. Next came your trousers once you lifted your hips enough for him to take them off. He let out a huff at the sight of you, staring almost in disbelief at you sprawled out before him. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? It is truly distracting.”

“Is that why I keep whooping your ass in training?”

“Maybe.” He chuckled before turning his attention back to your dripping underwear, “So wet for me already and I haven’t even touched you.” His eyes held a hunger as he parted your legs at the knees a little more so he could get a better look at you. Taking your knee, he hooked it over his shoulder as he sank to the floor, pressing slow kisses along the inside of one thigh and then the next. The touch sent shivers through you, right to your already dripping core. You whined when he got so close to where you wanted him, only to turn his attention to your other thigh again.

“What’s the matter? I thought you liked teasing?” He asked when you whined. You dared not look at him, knowing he’d have his smuggest smile on display.

“Please.” You mumbled, desperation for any touch at all. With a nod of his head towards you in compliance, he rid you of your underwear, tentatively rolling the material down your legs to expose your heat to the nighttime air.

“I’d hold on to something if I were you.” His mouth returned to the tops of your thighs, only this time he let his lips ghost over your core rather than skip over it completely. Your folds were so slick and warm that it almost felt as though his lips melted into you. A long groan escaped you as he began to move his mouth and tongue, laughter vibrating through him at the sound you made. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, you wanted to tug on his hair but settled on grabbing the sheets beneath you. When his tongue flicked your clit, that was out the window and one hand shot to the back of his head in desperation.

He pulled back from your pussy for a moment, “Please pull as hard as you’d like.” He’d obviously caught on. You tangled both hands in his hair then, before he returned to your warmth and he moaned before bringing his lips back to your core. Oh, he liked it when you tugged on his hair, you’d have to remember that.

He sucked your clit between his lips then and let it go so he could lick a strip right up the middle of your folds. “Oh fuck,” you exclaimed, “P-please, do that again!”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He repeated the action, this time taking extra care to move as slowly as possible. Another lick and he was gathering your wetness on his tongue and once again groaning at your taste.

He moved one hand from your thigh and brought his fingers to rest by your lips, “Get them nice and wet for me.” He told you, and you didn’t need to be told twice, sucking his two digits into your mouth and lathering them up with your tongue. “Gods.” He breathed, no doubt imagining that was his cock in the place of his fingers. He withdrew them from your mouth and brought them to your core, circling them slowly in your juices before ever so slightly prodding your entrance with them, slipping the tip of one in and out, followed by the other, in and out, intermittently whilst he worked the rest of your pussy with his tongue.

The very sight of him between your legs would have been enough for you on any other day, but today you were spoiled for choice on what to focus on. He snuck a glance at you from beneath his brow every once and a while, watching your facial expressions in between closing his eyes in pure concentration. You were close now if the coil in your stomach was anything to go by. Honestly, you were surprised that you’d lasted so long given the circumstances.

“I’m close!” You told him.

“I know.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He hooked both his fingers into you at once now, noting how you clenched around him when he did. Pleased with himself when he hit a spot within you that had your head flung back so your chin pointed towards the sky. He chuckled to himself and looked up at your face, not wanting to miss the reaction on your beautiful features.

“What are you- Oh!” The new motion of his fingers, pressing firmly exactly where you needed them to be, was an entirely too overwhelming sensation. Not only did you grab his hair now, you pulled on it, grinding your core against his face in a desperate plea for your release. In your haste to keep him close to you, you’d accidentally pulled the tie from his hair letting the strands fall upon either side of his face in a beautiful frame. He put his mouth into overdrive too, moulding his lips around your nub and giving it as much attention as he could, eyes never leaving your face now. You clenched around his fingers once more before the dam broke and he’d swore he’d never heard a more delightful sound.

His name fell from your lips as if it were the only thing you’d ever known as your orgasm washed over you. He held your hips down with his free hand as he helped you ride it out, never once stopping his movements until you’d finally collapsed back on the bed. You continued to pet his hair as he lay his cheek upon your thigh, brown eyes gazing up at you in a haze.

“They teach you that at the Shaolin academy?” You asked in jest as your breath began to even again. You tilted your chin to look down at him and the adoration in his eyes was enough to send your stomach fluttering once more. He smiled up at you then, his usual half-smile with a slight tilt of his head that you’d grown to love. “Seriously that was great, thank you. Would you allow me to return the favour?”

“If you wish, but please don’t let me finish too soon.”

“Too soon?”

“If you would allow me such a privilege, I would like to feel your body around me as well as your lips.” Gods, you wanted to feel him inside you too.

Once you were ready, still aching with want but satisfied for now, you slipped down off the bed and onto your knees. “Oh you poor thing. Need me to take care of that for you?” You asked when you saw the strain in his trousers. You pulled the waistband of his trousers down with ease, revealing his underwear. You could tell from the outline that he was big and painfully hard but you couldn’t help but tease him with a few soft strokes with the pad of your thumb through the fabric.

“Please-” he gasped when a particularly long stroke had his cock twitching. “Oh sweetheart, it looks like you’ve been hard all day.” You pulled his pants down and allowed his cock to spring free. His cock was thick, thicker than you’d ever imagined. It had ample length too but it was a particularly large vein that ran along its side that really caught your attention.

You pressed a kiss to his leaking tip, another to the vein. Such sweet noises left his mouth already and you’d barely touched him. Dragging your tongue along his underside whilst looking up at him seemed to really do it for him because his cock twitched in your hand. “Oh, gods. Do that again. Please.” You obliged him and earned the most breathy, muddled sound from him.

You gave the tip another kiss before wrapping your lips around just the first half an inch or so.

“Fuck-“ He pulled his cock from your mouth, “As beautiful as you look with your lips around my cock, I’d rather not finish so quickly.” He brought you up from your knees to kiss you again before lifting you slightly so you sat on the edge of your bed once more.

“Do you still want this?” He asked, hand lovingly caressing your cheek, eyes soft and locked with yours. You stood, gliding a hand from his stomach, up along his chest until you reached his strong jaw, eyes never leaving his as you did.

“More than anything. I just want to be close to you.” You confessed.

“We can just lay together if you’d like? We don’t have to do this, I’m more than happy to wait until you're ready.”

“I’m ready,” you told him, “I want you, so long as you want the same?”

“Oh I do. I've wanted this since the day we first met. You have no idea how much I want you.”

“Oh I have some idea.” You pushed on his chest lightly and he fell back onto your bed, taking you with him in his arms, shimmying until he was comfortable. You tugged your shirt over your head and rid yourself of any remaining underwear, flicking your eyes towards him only to see him dumbfounded at the sight of you bare before him. Heat rose to your cheeks for the first time that night. The man had just been eating you out like his life depended on it yet his gaze still made you giddy.

“You are so cute when you’re nervous, you know that?”

“Oh, shut up and fuck me.” You laughed, taking his head in your hands once more and kissing him, revelling in the feeling of his mouth on yours. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

“I know.” You rolled your eyes playfully at his cockiness, sitting upon his hips, careful not to let your body sit fully on his stomach or any other sensitive part of him. His hands glided down your sides until they reached your hips, resisting the urge to tickle your sides as he would have in any other situation.

“You ready?” You asked him, sitting up on your knees, hands braced at the base of his thick chest. He nodded, swallowing hard in anticipation.

With one hand you took hold of his achingly hard cock and directed it towards your entrance, taking care to coat the tip in your wetness before aiming it at your aching pussy. A sharp inhale and you were sinking down onto his lap until his cock filled you completely. With each inch, Lao arched further off the mattress before collapsing back once fully inside you, a long moan escaping him as your pussy enveloped his cock within you. The fullness you felt was something else. His velvety cock filling you so pleasantly you thought you could just sit there like that forever if you wouldn’t have gotten needy.

“My gods,” you groaned at the overwhelmingness of it all, “you feel so good.” You told him and he smiled amid his haze, absolutely delighted he was able to make you feel good even from his place beneath you. He let you take it completely at your own pace, supporting your hips when you moved up of him and then slide back down onto his cock. He wouldn't last long, not with months worth of pent up frustration finally coming to a head. He never thought the day he’d be inside you would ever come, didn’t let himself wonder what your walls would feel like around his member. To be fair, usually, just the thought of kissing you was enough to get him off.

You rocked forwards again once you were sure your body had adjusted to his size. Falling forward to essentially lie directly atop him. You didn’t want to ride if you couldn’t touch and be close to him. Another grind of your hips and a moan fell from his lips right into your ear, his hands now gripping your lower back, helping you move on his cock whilst keeping your form flush against his. His hips moved up in tangent with yours.

“Shit!” You cursed when his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot.

With another roll of his hips, he made contact with that spot again, your hands desperately grabbing fistfuls of the sheets at either side of his head to attempt to transfer the tension in your body from such pleasure. “Again!” He obliged you, full concentration on helping you reach your release.

“Lao, please!” You almost begged, “harder please!”

To your surprise, he pulled out of you completely, gripping your hips and lifting you off of him. In one swift movement, you were on your back, Lao leaning over you and tugging your knees around his hip so he had easier access to your pussy.

“You ready for me?”

“If you don’t get back in there and fuck me I think I’m going to die!”

A laugh escaped him but in truth, he felt that desperation too. In fact, he would have come ages ago had he not been in essence edging himself so that he wouldn’t finish long before you.

You sat up so you cling to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for another kiss. You couldn’t get enough of his lips, or hips scent, his arms around, or really anything about him. His arms wrapped around your right after he entered you as you kissed, your moans swallowed by one another’s mouths. That wonderful fullness was back again and he waited until you gave him the go-ahead that you were comfortable again before moving. His thrusts were measured, slow but forceful in a way that had you mewling against his shoulder.

He took his time with you, basking in the feeling of being with you in such a way. His lips found your neck once more, then your shoulder, then your chest and over the tops of your breasts. A particularly loud moan on your part had his attention turned back fully to spearing you on his cock.

“There?” He asked, looking to you for your response. You nodded your head into shoulder and he kissed the top of your head tentatively, smiling at your pleasured state. He focused on hitting that spot again, and again, until your nails started to dig into his shoulders. He let one hand drift between your bodies and down to your core, using the knowledge he’d gained from exploring you with his mouth to heighten your bliss.

“Lao!” His name left your mouth, along with obscenities. You weren’t really sure what you were saying at this point apart from his name. His fingers dancing over your clit combined with his thrusts had you feeling so stimulated that you swore that was all you could feel right now. The coil in your stomach had been rigid and pulsing for a few minutes now.

He pressed another kiss to your temple, “I’m almost there!” He told you, voice shaking both with intensity and the constant movement of you both.

“These bed sheets are a pain to clean.” You informed him in a moment of clarity and he laughed, but his voice was strained as you met his thrusts with your hips.

“Where-“ he gasped, “Do you want it?”

“Inside.” You quickly replied, knowing that you had taken any precautions you needed to.

He laughed again, “I swear you’re trying to kill me.”

As he rubbed harder and more sloppily on your clit, you knew he was extremely close. His forehead was tucked into your shoulder now, skin glistening. When you tugged the hair on the back of his neck between your fingers, he was done. A cry escaped him, cock twitching as he filled you with his release.

That feeling, the feeling of his body shuddering against you, his warmth filling you, was what finally made you come for a second time. You fell back against the covers, taking him with you as you worked through your release. He kept going, lightly and sloppily moving in and out of you until he was sure you were spent. He collapsed a top you, chest heaving in tandem with yours as you slowly came down from your high. When he turned his head to look up at you, a smile spread across your face and his in turn.

“We really shouldn’t have waited so long.” You sighed, feeling the stickiness between your legs as he carefully pulled out of you, not moving his cheek from your chest.

“Agreed.” He huffed in another large breath before his breath evened. It was so good to be with you, in any capacity really but this, this was something almost heavenly.

“Sorry, I think these sheets are still going to need to be cleaned.” He leant up off of you and off the bed, careful not to crush you under his weight, his playful little side smile returning as he walked to your en suite to grab a towel.

You looked down between your legs to check, groaning at the mess. “It can wait for tomorrow!” You didn’t feel like doing any kind of cleaning right now. Your body was spent and your muscles had already begun to ache. He returned with a damp towel and ever so gently wiped away any mess from between your legs, his movements so tentative that it was hard to believe he’d been the one to make that mess in the first place.

“Why? You got something else planned for tonight?” He asked, chucking the towel in the general direction of your bathroom before scooping you up in his arms and setting you down against your pillows.

“Yeah I was just about to go train.” You said in a mock serious tone, actively shoving the covers down so you could both crawl beneath them.

“Ha! Sure.” He had already settled beside you, bringing his arms to wrap around your frame. You turned to face him, your hand sliding beneath his upper arm to gently caress his back as you buried your face in his chest. You felt his lips on your forehead again, his arms tightening to bring you as close to him as he could.

Yeah, you weren’t moving for the world.

#kung lao #Kung Lao x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #mk 2021 #fic #my writing #reader insert #smut #lemon

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oogaboogasphincter · 3 years ago

Text

The 50/10 Method (Agent Whiskey x f!reader)

Summary: Jack makes the most of your 10 minute study break.

Word Count: 2.7k+

Rating: E (explicit) 18+ ONLY! bc this is just cringey smut lmfao

Warnings: smut (oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (obvi use protection irl), very easily and conveniently reached orgasms (this is a fantasy i can do what i want skjfkd), dirty talk, one (1) allusion to thigh riding and one (1) instance of 💙spitting💙, fingering, positions i hope i've given enough detail so y’all can imagine what i was picturing💀), pet names (sweetheart, honey, cowboy *affectionately*, good girl, baby), there’s a sentence about reader having long-ish hair, reader and jack have a dog, swearing, reader is afab and is called things like good girl and the like, just overall trash grammar and structure 😇

Author’s Note: so this is very poorly written and extremely self-indulgent, as i myself use the 50/10 method 🙃. but i had a lot of fun with it, and i think that’s what writing is supposed to be all about! :) also i was heavily inspired to write this after reading “Take a Break” by @mellowswriting and “Study Buddy” by @pascalpanic. please go check those out because they’re absolutely fantastic!!!!! +while you’re at it, i would highly advise you to read anything on their masterlists bc they’re just 💜exquisite💜

gif by @thernandalorian

The lines of text on your computer screen are starting to blend into each other, creating a single run-on sentence that one of your previous English teachers would ridicule the author for. The sharp curves and angles that distinguish each letter from the next are becoming soft and dull, blurring into each other until your brain can only recognize it as a smeared streak of black on white.

It’s 11:00am on a Saturday, a big exam set for the upcoming Monday’s morning. You don’t feel rushed for time, or overloaded with unknown material, and the early hours of the day have been quite productive. Following a shared breakfast of homemade waffles in bed with Jack, your boyfriend, you didn’t complain when setting up your study station on the living room’s large oak table. If anything, you had been excited to begin studying early in the hopes of finishing your review by the end of the day. That way, tomorrow would be free for you and Jack to do whatever you pleased.

However, as the hours went by, your motivation was slowly but surely diminishing. The serene study atmosphere that you usually thrive in is now driving you mad. You yearn for a noise, any noise; a bird to sing a song in the tree outside your window, the smack of your dog’s loose wrinkles against each other as he attempts to shake the sleep out of him, a pencil unable to stop itself from rolling and dropping onto the floor with a tink.

You’re momentarily gifted with the crisp sound of a page turning. You flit your eyes over to gaze upon the source of your granted wish and your heart flutters in reaction to the sight: Jack’s resting on the couch, cowboy hat balanced on the back of it, deeply absorbed in the next installment of his favorite murder-mystery series. You find it curious that his desire for an adrenaline-filled challenge doesn’t stop when he comes home from mission after mission that nearly cost him his life. You’ll ask him about his insatiability one day, but for now you categorize it as fictional research for his Statesman assignments.

Your short glance quickly turns into an entranced stare. Jack looks... divine. Fetching. Luscious. As he’s lying on his back, neck propped up against the arm of the couch, his book balanced on his chest, relaxation radiates off of him in waves and utterly seduces you. You’re surprised that he hasn’t been a greater distraction to you throughout the morning. How have you managed to ignore the denim-wearin’, plaid-shirted, pornstache-sportin’ cowboy of your dreams that is only a few steps away?

Involuntarily, the thigh muscles of your crossed legs contract in an effort to bring some semblance of friction to your now weeping core. Similar to your imaginings of your dog earlier, you shake your head to force these heavy, unwanted feelings to dissipate and turn back to the work in front of you. Of course, Jack does the opposite of what you’d like him to do and takes an interest in your fidgeting. He peeks over the top of his book, “You cold, sweetheart?”

His question is reasonable: you’re purposely wearing a skirt that’s so short it rides up quite high when you sit. You don’t dare to meet his eyes and answer while pulling a textbook close and opening it up, “No, I’m okay.”

Fortunately he returns to his reading. Your attention is able to retain itself for about a paragraph, but then your mind takes a sharp detour back to those pesky, steamy desires. You mentally huff at your inability to remain concentrated on your studies and rifle through the options of what you can do to satiate yourself for the time being.

You could switch texts and force your brain to recognize the change and therefore become distracted. You could pick out some colored writing utensils and bring some fun to active reading. You could say fuck it, go straddle Jack and beg him to use you in whichever way he would like.

Jack interrupts your brainstorming, “Are you sure you don’t need a blanket or sumthin’? I can go get my jacket for ya.”

The attentiveness of your southern lover melts your heart. You turn to him, “No, really, I’m okay, thanks.”

“I wouldn’t count a bathroom break as taking away from your 50 minutes, honey, if that’s what’s makin’ you twitch.”

You had been implementing and strictly adhering to the 50/10 method all morning: study for 50 minutes, take a break for ten. Its effectiveness was never doubted, as it has proven to work for you for years. Only ten minutes into this 50 minute period, the devil of restlessness pokes at you and makes you think could time go by any slower? A hand comes up to cover the blush creeping across your cheek as you dismiss Jack’s suggestion, “No, that’s not it.”

Behind your embarrassed hand, Jack cocks an eyebrow at you. Your simple choice of words has given the Agent a hint, that there is something that’s bothering you, he just hasn’t figured it out yet and you don’t want to admit what it is for some reason. He returns to his book, however lost in thought about what your problem could be, while you task every cell in your body to pay attention to your studies.

35 minutes remain on the clock, and Jack guesses, “Did you have too much coffee?”

You can’t help but grin at his sleuthing, “No, I just had my regular.”

He conjures up another possible solution five minutes later, “Are you itchin’ to get out of the house? We haven’t left in two days.”

He’s getting warmer. Both of you know exactly why you haven’t left the house in two days: you’d been occupied with activities of the sinful variety. You can’t gauge yet whether or not he knows he’s dancing around the answer, “Baby, you’re distracting me. And nope, it’s not that.”

He smiles apologetically, “Sorry,” and uses his book as a partition, blocking your ability to procrastinate and just visually drool all over him.

Silence fills the next 20 minutes. Even though Jack is out of your sight, details from your observations exaggerate themselves in your mind to the point that they’re all encompassing, intoxicating. The way his jeans wrap around his legs ever so perfectly, the worn denim hugging those muscular thighs that he loves for you to grind yourself against when you’re feeling especially desperate (like now). How his plaid flannel slopes over the swell of his belly, stretching tight against his skin as his diaphragm contracts and deflating when he exhales. Even his large feet, strewn about lazily on the couch, his toes pointing in different directions, amuse you.

Ten minutes remain in your study session. Feeling guilty about spending the majority of the last hour envisioning the seductive intricacies of your boyfriend, you actually start to study.

“How many times do you think I can make you cum in ten minutes?”

Your eyes are ripped from your material and land on the menace lazing on the couch. He’s put his book down, one arm behind his head while the other is crooked, allowing himself to palm his cock through his pants. Jack’s wearing a shit-eating grin, bewitching your crossed legs to switch which one is on top; an excuse to apply more pressure to the yearning area between them. You fidget in the chair, shamefully trying to get the seam of your underwear to rub against you in just the right way. You shrug, “I-I’m not sure.”

He gets up and comes over to you, standing behind you and leaning forward to rest his chin on your shoulder. He murmurs in your ear, “I think we should find out during your next break.”

You turn to face him, “I think so too.”

He gives you a quick kiss, “Well, you better be a good girl and study for these last few minutes. Earn that break.” He places his large hands on either side of your head and turns it toward your materials, making you both laugh.

Somehow, you’re able to pay attention. Jack’s impending promise of ravaging you for ten minutes straight quells your jittering nerves and gives you something specific to look forward to. Before you know it, your alarm is beeping, alerting you that your break has commenced. Jack cages you by reaching forward and grabs the clock, programs it to ten minutes and keeps it in his hand. He grips the sides of your swivel chair, pulls it back from the table and spins you around to face him, the speed of the turn making your hair swoosh across your shoulders. Through mutual giggles, Jack lifts you up, winding your legs around his waist, your arms doing the same around his neck. “I want you to count for me how many times you cum.”

Breathlessly, you simply obey, “Okay.”

He practically runs to the bedroom. He sets the clock on the nightstand and turns the face towards the mattress so you don’t lose out on studying time. Tossing you onto the bed, your giggling continues as you bounce from the force. Jack hooks his fingers in your underwear and yanks them down, pulling them out from under your skirt and over your shoes. The way he wastes no time ridding you of any other garment makes blood and heat flood your center and air rush out of your lungs. He pushes your lost air back into your mouth with a kiss and then immediately retreats back to in between your legs.

He flicks the fabric of your skirt up onto your belly, letting himself have complete, unobstructed access to his early lunch. His fingers fondle your folds while his lips place sloppy kisses along the inside of your thighs. After he’s had his fill of that step, he sits back and stares at you: spread out for him, more than willing to take anything he wants to give to you. He blows out a whistle, eyeing your core, and you say, “Hey, you’re on the clock, cowboy. No time for dramatics.”

He nods, a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth, “You’re right, sweetheart.”

He spits onto your cunt, forgoing his usual gentle licks to adequately wet your pussy. A quiet fuck escapes your mouth as he plunges his tongue into you. Your fingers wind themselves in his chocolatey locks and pull, extracting an excited moan from your lover. His fingers knead the soft flesh on the backs of your thighs as he eats and when his mustache starts to tickle your clit, you’re done for. Your grip on his hair becomes vice-like and your whole body seizes up, constricted by enrapturing pleasure. You strangle out, “One.”

Jack unlatches his mouth only once he’s certain your first orgasm is complete. He stands, admires your wrecked expression, takes his cock out, spits into his hand and pumps his dick a few times. Hands slithering around your waist, he flips you onto your stomach and pulls your ass up, positioning you on your hands and knees. You’re a little bit dizzied by his manhandling in combination with his expert tongue, but this type of vertigo is the most enjoyable you’ve ever experienced.

When he pushes into you, it’s a bit of a stretch because he hadn’t warmed you up with his fingers. He relaxes you by leaning forward, pressing his chest against your back and peppering soft kisses to your shoulder blades. The clink of his belt comically punctuates his thrusts, but your laughs are swallowed by intoxicated groans. You don’t know, and you don’t really care to figure out, how he already has you teetering on the edge of cumming again. Heightened senses tell you that you’re close; the fabric of his shirt feels unearthly soft as it brushes against patches of exposed skin, his fingertips are delightful lead in their clamp on you, his grunts and pants angelically reverberate in your skull. And then, suddenly and all at once, “Two.”

Jack’s pride shows itself in a smirk while he flips you onto your back. He makes a show of hooking your calves over his shoulders, eliciting laughter from the both of you. Resting almost all of his weight on top of you, your knees find your chest and his hands find your hair. The intimacy of it all is almost too much; his thumbs stroke your temples, palms cradle your head, those goddamned puppy-dog eyes bore into you. You turn your head in his grasp to check your timing: five minutes left.

Jack’s tongue darts out to lick the pads of his fingers before he snakes it down in between the two of you to rub your clit. Your moans come out uncontrollably, your eyelids stutter and he eggs you on, “That’s it, sweetheart. Give me another one.”

Hearty moans are reduced to desperate gasps and you’re unable to verbally acknowledge the third orgasm that rips through you. Nonetheless, Jack can tell from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and his name tumbles ferociously out of your mouth that you’re cumming. “’Atta girl.”

Jack takes his cock out of you and the whine that escapes your lips embarrasses you. He can’t help but laugh at your whimpering before he scoots down the bed and starts to eat you out again, framing his head with your quaking thighs. You find the strength to check the time, “Jack, there’s only a minute and a half left.”

He moans deeply into you, unaffected by your comment, and eases three fingers into your fluttering center. Like earlier, your hands fly to his hair like a magnet and find purchase so tight it makes your knuckles go pale. In a matter of seconds, circling your clit with his sopping tongue and tapping your g-spot with his deft fingers, Jack has you cumming yet again. This time you yell out the count, “Four!”

The sounds his ministrations make are lewd and exhilarating, pushing himself to his own precipice. You look down your body to find Jack’s other hand jerking his cock and his seed spilling out of him moments later. He groans into your pussy while you pet his hair, praising him for his efforts.

Simultaneously, you both remember that you’re being timed. Your eyes meet the clock at the same time: 30 seconds. Jack springs from the bed and pulls you up with him, grabbing your discarded panties. He squats and taps your ankles so you lift your legs up, sliding each leg hole over your body and pulling your underwear up underneath your skirt.

You fumble with his mussed clothes, stuffing his still-hard cock into his boxers, hiking his jeans up over his ass and zip and button them closed. You snake his belt around his waist and let his fingers do the work of buckling it before he picks you up bridal style and ushers you out of the bedroom, grabbing the clock off of the nightstand on your way out.

Unhinged cackles follow you two down the hallway as you return to the living room. He plops you down in your chair, straightens you out, gives you a kiss on the cheek and then your alarm goes off. You raise your eyebrows at him, “Jeez, you didn’t waste a second.”

He hums, then mumbles, “You get back to work now, babygirl,” and leaves you with a yearning kiss on the part of your hair.

Both of you return to your respective readings, hopelessly trying to downgrade your panting gasps to normal breaths. The absence of Jack’s warmth is already painful. But you rationalize that the indulgence of the last ten minutes is more than enough to get you through this next hour of studying, if not for longer.

Little do you know that Jack feels the same pain. His ache for your touch, sexual or not, will overtake him later and he’ll be unable to resist the temptation of coming over and distracting you again. Determined to finish your studying, you’ll propose a compromise: you can sit in his lap while he is lulled to sleep by the ambience of the afternoon rain and the enveloping comfort of you. The two of you can try to beat the record of four orgasms next semester.

💘taglist: @pascalpanic, @mellowswriting

#agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x fem!reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #kingsman: the golden circle #study smut #studying smut

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feliix · 5 years ago

Text

Mine ✦ JHS (18+)

✦ Pairing: Werewolf!Hoseok x Reader ✦ Word count: 3.6k ✦ Rating: M

✦ Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship!au, werewolf!au

✦ Summary: It’s your boyfriend Hoseok’s first time in heat, and as much as you’ve prepared yourself for this moment you’d never expect it to go like this.

✦ Warnings: explicit smut, heat sex, unprotected sex, fingering, dom!hoseok, oral: female receiving, dirty talk, rough sex, impregnation kink, breeding kink, hobi is possessive af, knotting, creampie, marking, blood play, praise kink, aftercare,

✦ Requested by this anon ‘Hoseok x reader werewolf alpha heat with human mate? First time experiencing his heat and his knot?’ this anon: ‘May I request for the drinks and Drabbles, Hobi + cocktail. (Lmfao this is gonna be a lot, you don’t need to do all, whatever you feel inspired by {love you}; dom Hobi, spanking, creampie, fingering, toys, pet names)’ and sweet beanie @jintobean‘ahem. pls might i order some hot coco hoseok it can have some nsfw idc i just need my heart to burst pls and thank’

✦ A/N: another episode of i try to write a drabble but it turns into a oneshot :)))) tagging my bby @hobiance for the much needed encouragement and werewolf hobi love♡ also this is my first actual werewolf smut please be nice and beta read by the wonderful, amazing and life saving @ally-127

✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland

read part two here

You had no idea what you were anticipating as you got home from work today. Before you had left Hobi was acting stranger than normal. His temper was short, his motions were labored, and he wasn't himself. It didn’t take long for you to realize something was wrong, and before you had even gone on lunch you received a text from your boyfriend.

Hobi: I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I think I’m in heat

There was no time to think about the next course of action, it was clear what you had to do. The next thing you knew you were in your bosses office, telling her that you were beginning to feel ill and that you’d be taking the rest of the day off.

He could smell that you were home before you had even walked through your front door. Hobi’s senses were mad, higher than he had ever experienced before.

To put it lightly, you were worried. You had never experienced a werewolf in heat before, only heard about it from the older boys and their girlfriends in passing. But now there was no time to ask questions. Hobi was in heat and you’d have to figure it out together.

Muffled moans traveled throughout the apartment as Hobi ached in pain in your bedroom. Concern immediately flooded your system, not knowing if you should rush over to check on him or take things slow. The groaning only gets louder as you approach the bedroom door, pressing your ear up to the door to try and make out the slur of words coming from his mouth.

“Y/N?” He nearly cries as he senses your presence, the smell of you awakening senses he didn’t even know he had.

Slowly, you turn the handle of the door to reveal yourself to him.

He’s in pain, lying in a pool of his own sweat as a dewy sheen glistens over his body. The only thing covering him is a pair of cotton underwear. They were the only thing soft and breathable enough that he could stand to have on his body, unlike the other clothes torn into shreds that he ripped off earlier. Hopefully he can hold back from treating yours in the same way – you really like the blouse you have on today.

As you see him curled up on the bed you can’t help but become worried for his current state. His face is scrunched in agony, soft groans leaving his lips between each labored breath. Slowly, you make your way over to him, careful not to move too quickly and startle his instincts.

You can only imagine the pain he's gone through over the past few hours. Knowing he's broken every bone in his body to turn, over and over again. Finally that part was over for now, but the everlasting ache of his muscles is still no match for his oncoming heat.

“It hurts,” he moans as his arms cup his sides roughly, rocking back and forth in attempts to relieve some of the pain. You can feel the heat radiating off his body from a foot away.

Instinctively, your hand reaches out to stroke his arm, the hairs standing up as his body shivers in a cold sweat. And then you notice it. The way his nostrils flare and exhale thickly as his eyes begin to glow an amber and gold hue. Your touch comforted him yet riled him up all at once, his wolf wholly and completely awake now that your skin was on his.

His eyes lock on you intently, a deep message hidden behind in his stare – almost like he was going to swallow you whole. You know what he needed. By the bulge in his pants to the look in his eyes you can tell it's you he wants – the only thing he needs at this moment, and you are ready for it.

You already know what you were getting yourself into when you began dating a wolf. It was only a matter of time before your sex life did a 180, and no, you weren’t entirely sure what to expect but today was the day that you’d finally understand what this was all about.

Like a second wind had taken over him, Hobi sits up in the bed, his posture firm and his muscles straining as he holds himself from grabbing you by the waist and mounting you at that moment. He’s waiting for reassurance from you, holding onto every ounce of strength he has before moving an inch.

And so you reach out to him again, bending at the waist as you place your arms on his shoulders, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’m ready,” is all you have to say for him to know, and then he’s scooping you up with his supernatural strength to lay you on the bed.

Without missing a beat, Hobi’s fingers are looping through the sides of your underwear and ripping them down your legs. Surprisingly, you are a lot less nervous than you had expected to be. Maybe because you know how much pain he is in from holding himself back, and all you want is to finally satisfy his wolf that has been eating away at him for so long.

Your sweet scent fills his nostrils as he moves closer to your cunt. Closing his eyes, he basks in your scent – your scent overtaking him stronger than ever before. With deep inhale, he nestles his nose against your core, admiring the way you smelled before extending his tongue to lap at your slit. Immediately, your body jerks in reaction to his touch, the sensitivity of your clit being tested by his quick and frivolous motions.

“Tastes so good,” he mumbles against your inner thigh, making your body jerk at the vibration of his lips. His ministrations are much more impactful than before; this time he's hungry for it, dying to satisfy an itch that was nearly impossible to scratch.

Soon his hands are prying your legs as far apart as they could go, shoving his face into your center and devouring any juices that slipped past your entrance. Even though you had done this a hundred times, it felt different. He was driven by hunger, his actions quick and frivolous to ready you for his length. It was different but it was intentional; his sole purpose backing each and every flick of his tongue.

Moans pass his lips as they wrap around your clit, sucking harshly. Involuntarily your hips buck towards him, unable to control your own actions from the pleasure his mouth is bringing you. You can tell that he likes it by the way his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you down as his tongue flicks past your entrance and into your velvety walls.

A string of curses leave your lips as your body is rendered immobile, unable to move from the way he’s holding your legs to the bed. He’s ravenous – his nose pressing roughly into your clit as his tongue explores your sex. As much as he wants to be gentle he can’t; his wolf sending each of his senses into overdrive with each drip of arousal that lands on his tongue.

He’s moving so quickly that you can’t subdue your quickly approaching high. Any tug at his hair only makes him move faster, bringing you closer and closer to ecstasy at an alarming rate.

“Hobi,” you cry out, “I’m gonna cum if you keep at it like that.”

He doesn’t respond to you with words, only squeezes your thighs to acknowledge you. He’s too busy devouring your pussy to come up for air. Your words only make him move faster and more desperately, your high coming to a peak as he flattens his tongue across your slit. You take a quick glimpse of his amber eyes before he squeezes them shut, feverishly indulging in your release, licking it up as if his life depended on it.

By now a layer of perspiration has coated your body, the silky fabric of your blouse sticking to your skin. But Hobi isn’t done – things are just getting started.

Retreating from his spot between your legs, he sits back on his heels, wiping any left over arousal coating his chin with the back of his hand. He’s still hungry – the squint of his eyes and the determined look on his face told you so. Heat coursed through your veins as you waited for him to make his next move. He was trying to be patient, trying to let you recover for a moment before he got back to business, but you knew what he wanted.

In the interest of time you remove your own shirt, sitting up on the bed to throw the garment to the side and unclip your bra. His hungry eyes take in your nude figure as he moves forward to push you back onto the mattress. Your body relaxes as his lips connect to a sweet spot on your neck, sucking on it harshly, sure to leave a mark for tomorrow.

You arch your back in response as his lips begin to trail down your chest. A line of wet kisses is left behind as he makes his way down to one of your breasts, taking it in his mouth and circling the sensitive bud with his tongue. His teeth brush gently across your nipple, the sensation of his growing canines scraping against it breaking goosebumps against your skin.

Every day since he first turned has been leading up to this moment. Waiting out each passing moment for a sign of carnal instincts to over take him. Over the past few days you’d just brushed off his overly clingy demeanor, assuming it was just him growing into himself as a wolf. His suspicious and on-edge behavior went completely overlooked. You didn’t expect Hobi’s first heat to come on so soon after turning, but alas, here you were.

Hobi’s hands grab a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest pushed flush against the mattress, legs bent and the knees with your ass on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now.

His long digits trace your slit as arousal floods from your entrance, coating your slick on his fingertips. Anticipation pangs at your chest as you wait for his next move. You can only imagine the restraint he is holding onto at this moment. Everything in him wants to drive his hardened member into you, but he knows that your human body is not meant to handle what is coming for you.

Hobi’s eye’s screw shut as he brings a finger up to his mouth, basking in the taste of you. A wanton moan erupts from his lips at the taste – so perfectly sweet he would never be able to get enough.

Dire thoughts rush through your mind as you rest on your elbows, face turned to the side to try and see Hobi out of your peripheral vision. His pupils are completely blown, eyes focused only on your center as his chest heaves in anticipation. He’s sizing you up, wondering if you’d be able to accommodate his new size. It worries him deeply, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he knew once he started he wouldn’t be able to control himself like he normally could. You needed to do something, say something to help settle the internal warfare consuming his mind.

“I’m ready, Hoseok.”

His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, grasping onto your hips with such pressure that it is sure to leave bruises tomorrow. Sharp fingernails dig into your skin as his tip meets your entrance. It’s fiery and red, inflamed from how hard he is. The precum that leaks from his tip coats your slit, combining with the wetness dripping down your thighs to create a delicious mixture.

One last reassuring squeeze of your side is all he gives before pushing into you ruggedly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he makes his way into your core, surprised at this new sensation. His size is bigger than you’d ever taken before, so much thicker and longer than his normal length. It’s a lot to take in at once, and he’s trying his best to let you relax as your body adjusts to his size.

“You can move,” you say, lip caught between your teeth as your walls stretch further around him.

With your fists grasping for the sheets, Hobi begins thrusting his hips slowly into you– holding out a second each time he bottoms out to let you breathe. His nails only dig into your sides further, the only thing giving him a grip onto reality to hold back his animalistic instincts.

Deep grunts leave his mouth as he tries to hold himself back, but he can feel his humanity slipping further and further away with each clench of your pussy.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he bares his teeth, canines prominent in his bite, “need to breed you now.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as his words meet your ears.

You’d never had serious baby talk before let alone tried for one. It was his primal instincts talking, you were sure of it. But even if it wasn't there was no turning back now. He was losing control and he was losing it quickly.

Quickly, his hips snap into yours, his muscles flexing as he holds your body steady, fucking into you deeply. Breath is sucked out of you as his pace increases; stars forming at the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, mouth salivating at the increasing pleasure bestowing upon you. His length is a lot to get used to, but the everlasting pressure against your g-spot was making the pain melt away.

Hobi thrusts in and out of your effortlessly, your abundance of arousal coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. With each thrust he bottoms out, and it becomes difficult for you to remain upright. Limbs shaking from pleasure, your elbows begin to give way, landing you flat against the mattress.

Your mouth opens, but the only thing able to escape is a silent scream, too immersed in the feeling of him battering your walls to make a sound. A loud leaves you lips as he pulls you back up, his arms wrapping around your waist to use all his strength to hold you in position. His chest is pressed flush against your back, the heat radiating off his body soothing you as his mouth meets your ear. A quick nip is placed on your earlobe as he catches it between his canines. It doesn’t hurt like you’d expect it too, or maybe you’re too caught up in his throbbing shaft plunging into you to notice if it does.

“Taking me so well.”

His praise quickly soothes your nerves, helping you relax into him as he holds your body close, closer than you had ever felt to him before. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know he’s not ready to let up just yet, but you’re too on edge to hold on.

“Hobi I-I’m gonna–”

“I can smell it,” he groans, mouth meeting your neck as he sucks harshly on it. You can feel his canines scraping against your soft skin, itching to break the flesh and claim you. It’s what he’d always wanted – having you here like this just makes it all the more enticing.

A string of cuss words fall from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements don’t slow either – his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate.

Feeling your release over him only makes him thrust harder, deeper. It sends him into a full blown frenzy, unable to keep himself from chasing his high. “Smells so sweet, need to make you mine.”

You knew what this means. You knew you already were his, just not in that way yet. He was holding onto every last ounce of strength to stop himself from biting, from sinking his teeth into your precious skin and claiming you as his mate. It was painful for him to keep at it like this, and you didn’t have any second thoughts before saying it.

“Do it, Hoseok,” the words slip between cries, still shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, “claim me.”

So he does.

His eyes slam shut as his mouth finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his canines sink into your skin. Screams blow past your lips as blood begins to trickle from the wound on your shoulder. Your chest tightens in pain, praying for the awful sensation to but cut short and pleasure to take over. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood.

“Mine.”

Your heart flutters at his claim, having never felt as close to him than you do right now. Firecrackers lit through your veins, the connection between you and Hoseok binding to eternity and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like you were floating on thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now, you’re too blissed out from the shock of him claiming you to notice how his cock is beginning to swell inside of you.

Cum shoots out of his member, filling you up to the brim until your abdomen begins to feel heavy and swell. That floating feeling quickly begins to fade as his orgasm keeps coming and coming, no inch of your insides gone untouched by his seed. It seems like it's never going to end, and you can feel the pressure from his release building and building inside of you. Your sensitive walls stretch as his cock expands; knotting to plug you up and make sure none of his cum drips out.

“Hobi,” you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock continues to inflate inside of you, “Hobi it hurts.”

“Its almost over baby,” he comforts you, stroking your hair before guiding you onto your side, laying behind you. After such a rough round, his familiar touch eases your pain. The light kisses he places along your spine lets you sink back into him, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips instead of the balloon sized cock stretching your vagina. Gentle hands trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the sound of his calming breath. His chest heaves as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rush.

Soft kisses soon turn into small licks running over the length of your back as you lay there, still speared on his cock. Now that his animalistic needs were met, it was all about you.

“What are you doing?”

“Cleaning you up,” he answers calmly, his lupine senses finding nothing strange with this new method of aftercare. You’re too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his wolf was telling him to do then so be it.

As Hobi’s knot begins to subdue he doesn’t let go. His tongue soothes over the spot of his mark, now forming into a dark scar to let everyone know you were his. Its crazy how just one bite felt like it could change the entire dynamic of your relationship. You were his now, and he was yours. Forever.

“Hobi?”

“Mmm,” he mumbles, refraining from letting his mouth leave your skin.

“Did you mean that thing you said,” your lip worries between your teeth before you can finish your question, wondering if he even remembers anything that happened or if his wolf took everything over.

“What thing?”

“The thing about breeding me?” Your eyes slam shut to brace yourself from the answer.

“Yes,” he sighs out nonchalantly, like he isn’t admitting that his intentions were to get you pregnant.

“Yes?”

“You’re my mate, Y/N,” he presses a chaste kiss between your shoulder blades before pulling out. A small whimper leaves your lips at the loss of contact, not sure if you were relieved that he was no longer inside you or not. “Of course I want you to have my pups.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy as a smile stretches across your face. All you want to do right now is to turn around and kiss him, so you do. His face is just as bright as yours when you meet his eyes. His hair is messy and his skin is shining with perspiration, but he looks beautiful. He welcomes your kiss like he’s been waiting for it all day. Mouth chasing after your lips, capturing them in a quick kiss before pulling away.

It's the first time he’s seen your eyes since you’ve gotten home, and even then he couldn’t appreciate them like he could now. There's a different glow that he didn’t notice before. Maybe it's because he’s bound to you now, willing to do anything and everything for you.

“I love you,” you sigh, pressing your palm to his cheek. He looks so innocent now, the amber in his eyes now faded back to the chocolatey brown color you love so much.

“And I love that you’re mine.”

#ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #bangtanhq #bangtanshadowfamily #kpopuniversenet #bhqdrabbles #hoseok x reader #werewolf bts #werewolf hoseok #hoseok smut

921 notes · View notes

ambivartence · 3 years ago

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Heyy! How are youu? I really wanna say that I really love you art style and i have a question.. do you have any tips on anatomy?? Since i struggle alot with men bodies..

oh jeez man bodies ... beautiful and elusive lmfao. I don't draw bodies that often but I can at least offer you some free resources that might help u :<

These are some pretty reputable books on figure drawing / anatomy that u can read online for free through archive.org (u can just flip thru the images or look at the table of contents... its a lot of text which can be boring):

Anatomy for the Artist by Jenó Barcsay (you need to create an free account for this one)

Constructive Anatomy by George Brant Bridgman

Figure Drawing for All It's Worth by Andrew Loomis

Also this website (free with registration) [EDIT: see bottom for an alternative that doesnt require registration and has more options] gives you randomly posed images on a timer to practice quick figure drawing! I like doing these exercises bc then i can focus on posing a stick figure body in the correct shape without getting caught up in musculature detail.

For toned man bodies specifically, i just make them look buffer than they are tbh LOL, and i try to use a lot of straight lines to delineate hard muscle rather than soft fat. Also, one trap i used to fall for a lot was making the head too big, the legs too short, and the hands and feet too small (did u know that ur foot is about the length of ur forearm 😯). Dunno if you experience the same things but that typically made my drawings look too cartoony for my liking, so I try to keep that in mind when i do full body drawings now.

EDIT:

Thank u @sannie-hannie for suggesting Line of Action :O It has figure drawing, animal drawing, hands & feet, facial expressions, and scenes and environments, plus you don't have to register, so I think this is an even better recommendation than Bodies in Motion. I definitely want to check it out as well. 💕🙏

#ask #dongmiass #my questionable advice #bruh archive.org has so many free old books on literally anything #ya if anyone else has more tips #pls add on bc i dont rly do much anatomy :') except hands n faces

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watermelonsugawara · 4 years ago

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Hi wife ❤️❤️ give me some jealous Kuroo action please!!! like you’ve been studying w a guy from one of your classes a bunch and he doesn’t like it. It can be SFW or NSFW, whatever your preference is but I would really enjoy a jealous kuroo 🤤

YESSS MY BEAUTIFUL WIFEEE hi :) lemme give u some kuroo foooood

❥ warnings: nsfw; like a lil spice?; a liiiiittle teasing, a liiiiittle grinding, fingering, choking, spitting, creampie, JK A LOT OF SPICE LMFAO

❥ characters: jealous!kuroo x fem!reader

❥ a/n: kuroo can fuck dis pussy up any day. thats literally my only note lmfao. so uhhh here u go yall

ALSO MY BAD ILL PUT A KEEP READING WHEN IM OFF MOBILE LOLL

❥ wc: idk i typed on my phone i’ll figure it out later lol

...

Kuroo continued to tap his pencil against his textbook, echoing throughout the coffee shop. He held his chin in his hand, checking the time every few minutes. 3:43 pm, his phone read. 7 more minutes before (Y/N) leaves, he thought, pouting to himself. He didn’t realize his pout was visible to you until you closed your book and reached a hand across the table to stop Kuroo’s incessant pencil taps. The feeling of your small hand on his pulled him out of his thoughts to look at you.

“Tetsu, what’s wrong?” you asked, rubbing small circles on his hand. Your boyfriend had known you had a partner project that you had been working on for a few weeks, so you’ve been cutting your study dates short to meet with your classmate. Despite knowing every time, Kuroo acts pouty all over again, seeming to count down the seconds before you have to go.

“Nothing,” Kuroo sighed, covering your small hand with his large one, “I’m just gonna miss yoooooooou.” He drawled out the last word and pouted his plush lips.

“We are finishing up the project today, so I’ll be out a bit longer,” you began, and Kuroo’s eyebrows immediately furrowed. “But then I won’t have to leave our study dates early again. I’ll meet you back at the apartment, okay baby?”

Kuroo concealed his jealousy with a soft smile as he nodded in agreement. He watched as you began packing up your belongings to go meet your classmate at the library. It made his blood boil knowing your attention was going towards another guy, even just for some school project. He cleaned up his own books and pushed in his chair at the table. He planted a quick kiss on your lips before you two parted ways.

Kuroo sat on the couch at your apartment, shaking his leg anxiously. He picked up his phone to check the time, the bright screen reading 8:34 pm. He frowned at the absence of your texts and your absence in general. He tried to put his focus back to his homework, but his mind continued to wander. He didn’t even know what this guy looked like anyway. Surely this classmate isn’t more attractive than him ...right?

Kuroo shook his head to clear the thoughts from his mind just as you turned the key in the doorknob. He instantly perked up at the sound, nearly leaping off the couch to greet you. You couldn’t even set your bag down as Kuroo snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

“(Y/N), I missed you,” Kuroo said against your skin, his voice a little deeper than usual. His voice vibrated against the crook of your neck, sending a spark of heat through your body. You pulled away from the hug to look at your boyfriend, a soft smile painted across his face. You cupped his jaw and pulled him to a kiss that was intended to be quick, but there was a hint of neediness coming from the way Kuroo’s lips moved against yours. You pulled away to look at home once more. “Is everything okay?” You asked.

“Yes, I just missed you... a lot. I hate being away from you,” Kuroo said quietly, his face heating up slightly. You looked at him puzzled, as you’ve been gone to study with friends countless times before, but then it clicked.

“Babe, are you jealous?” You questioned, emphasizing the last word just a bit too hard causing Kuroo’s face to turn an even deeper shade of red. Clearly he didn’t like to say the actual word out loud, you felt his grip on your waist get a little bit tighter.

“Maybe, but is that so bad? You’re my girlfriend and I don’t want any guys getting the wrong idea,” Kuroo responded sharply, his envy getting the best of him. The thought of someone else’s hands on your skin set a fire ablaze beneat his skin, making his muscles tense.

You set your bag down and slipped your jacket off your shoulders, hanging it on the hooks by the door. You held your boyfriend’s face in your hands, seeing the conflicting feelings of envy and desire in his expression. You pulled his ear close to your mouth and whispered, “I’ll always be yours, Tetsu.”

The way you breathed his name against his ear caused his cock to twitch in his sweats. He quickly pulled you into another heated kiss, grabbing the backs of your thighs to lift you up. You pushed off the floor and jumped into his arms with ease, his hands quickly finding purchase on your ass underneath your skirt. You kiss the sensitive spot near his ear, pulling a low growl out of Kuroo. He walks the two of you over to the couch where he sits and you feel his length pressing against your center. You moaned at the feeling, grinding down harder against him. Kuroo slipped a hand between your bodies towards your center, biting his lip at the feeling of your juices along your folds.

“Holy shit, kitten. You’re so wet already,” he breathed, running a finger up and down your slit. You moved your hips, desperate for more contact, but Kuroo quickly took note of this pulls his hand out from your panties and you whined at the lost of contact. “Someone’s eager,” Kuroo smirked.

“Tetsu please, I need you,” you moaned, your hands pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat speed up. He wrapped his large hand around your neck, your lips parting at the pressure but no sound comes out. His other hand slips his thumb into your mouth, marveling at how your plush lips suck around his finger, the feeling of your hot tongue making precum leak from the tip of his cock. He dragged his thumb out to open your mouth, and right as you closed your eyes, you felt his spit land on your tongue, letting out a loud moan before swallowing it as quickly as it came.

“Good girl, always so ready for me,” Kuroo praised, releasing a hand from your neck to lie you down on the couch. He pulled your shirt over head and unclasped your bra, wasting no time to cup your breasts and suck on your sensitive nub, pinching and swirling his finger around the other. He peppered kisses down your abdomen before pulling off your panties, his long fingers brushing your slit, gathering your essence. Your back arched as he pushed in two fingers at once, your hands immediately gripping his strong biceps. His fingers pumped deep into you, quickly finding the soft spot that made your toes curl. Endless rambles and gasps fell from your lips as he hit your spot over and over, but he pulled out his long fingers just as the heat in your stomach reached its peak.

Kuroo quickly pulled down his sweats and boxers simultaneously, his thick cock finally free from its restraints. Kuroo uses the juices from his fingers to coat the head, and he hovered over you to line up with your core. He moved his hips to tease your folds with the tip of his cock, causing you to writhe beneath him as you whispered, “Tetsu, please, I want you inside me.”

“Well fuck, when you say my name like that, I can’t resist kitten,” Kuroo groaned and he pushed his cock into you slowly, your walls stretching around the head. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at how full you felt, and he was only halfway. You wrapped your legs around his waist to push him even further into you. Kuroo clenched his jaw as you clenched around him, the slick of your walls driving him insane.

“My god, kitten you’re just sucking me in,” Kuroo groaned, his eyes locked on where you two were connected. “Your pussy was just made to fit around my cock, wasn’t it?” Kuroo continued to rut his hips into you, going at a relentless pace. He’d pull back until just the head was still inside your pussy before slamming his hips back into you and hitting you g-spot, curses spilling out of your mouth. Kuroo leaned down to suck dark marks into your skin, soothing the spots with his wet tongue. Your hands carded through his hair, pulling it into fists, making him moan against your hot skin. A strong heat began to pool in your stomach as Kuroo mercilessly hit the spongy spot inside of you.

His thrusts became erratic as he neared his release, slowly attempting to pull out before he finished, but you used your legs to keep him inside you. Kuroo looked up at you, his pupils blown just thinking about what you’re gonna say next.

“Fill me up, baby, I want it, I n-need it,” you moaned, sending Kuroo over the edge. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck and with a loud groan he came inside you, the feeling of his white ropes of cum inside you brought you to your own climax, crying out his name he fucked you through your high.

Kuroo pulled out and slumped beside you on the couch, both of you trying to catch your breath. You started to feel Kuroo’s cum drip out of your pussy, but before you could close your legs, Kuroo slid his hand to catch it with his finger, sliding it into your overstimulated walls. You bucked your hips at the feeling and looked over to him with wide eyes.

“Oh, you thought I was done with you, pretty girl?”

...

#kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #haikyuu smut #alli writes some spice #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #kuroo x reader

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aetherknit · 4 years ago

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hey for whenever ur doing requests again- how do u do poses? like the planning for them n stuff. drawing bodies is HARD and u do it v well pls I'm suffering

hi!! thank u so much for liking my poses ;; ! it’s definitely still something i struggle with, but i can do my best to give a couple pointers <3

1) here’s the preamble: references are genuinely ur best friend, and it took me ages to bite the bullet and actually do it but it really genuinely helps!! sometimes it takes a few tries, even with the reference because copying like that can create a stiffness. i think its good to keep in mind that referencing in and of itself is almost a subset skill; understanding how to utilize them won’t necessarily come instinctively, and it takes practice!

2) ALL THAT BEING SAID. figure drawing is a great place to start if u want to counteract stiffness and create fluidity. watch a couple quick videos on the what and the how, and then find some practice websites. at the very least, timed figure drawing is a great warmup, and itll help you understand a body’s range in movement

3) okay now to how i draw bodies. typically my guidelines look something like this:

to me, understanding the placement of the head+hands is almost like.... the most essential part of any piece. i work from the head->neck->shoulders and then USUALLY i plan where i want the hands to be so i can understand how the arms should be arranged. the torso is also kind of like... pillow-shaped?? it all depends on the body type, but its usually good to set a shape in the chest to remember the ribcage, and then have a bit more fun with the stomach area. here’s a good visualization i like for how the torso can twist.

4) other general tips: a good pose will feel balanced... idrk how else to explain it. sometimes when i draw freeform i cant make the legs make sense -- like how is this person remaining upright? dont ask me im just some dude. a good way to get a feel for whether a pose is balanced is by flipping ur canvas a Ton. i do this like every 4 lines LMFAO. if it looks weird in reverse, theres probably something to adjust. i actually use the Transform tool a lot, just to see. “what if this [body part] was longer? does it look better? should it be wider?” a lot of my art is trial and error!

5) more guideline stuff just for general anatomy that i like to keep in mind. the muscle that connects the ear to the neck is sooo helpful when i learned it my mind was blown NJFKDSN

ANYWAY im not super knowledgeable on this stuff bc im completely self-taught but in summarization: references are helpful for ideas and anatomy, figure drawing is great for understanding how to create movement!! i hope this helped a little <3

#ask #advice #this was a lot more rambling and a lot less visual aid than intended i apologize

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hidden-highlands · 4 years ago

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Hope you're ready for these Xenoblade asks!! You don't have to answer them all if it's too many. 6, 7, 9, 14, 18, 21, 24, 25, 36, 41!

omg angel thank u for all the questions!! <3

gonna chuck these under a readmore for length

6: Favorite location?

SATORL MARSH AT NIGHT UGH IT IS JUST SO DANG PRETTY ;;u;;

also Agniratha, the sheer gravity and atmosphere of that place was so.... unsettling, but in the best way

7: Least favorite location?

generally? most of the locations on Mechonis; after how diverse each new location on Bionis was, it felt like a bit of a letdown for each new area to have similar aesthetics and enemies. i cannot for the life of me differentiate between Galahad Fortress or Mechonis Field or Central Factory.

specifically? the Ether Mines. i played through that entire stretch of the game in, like, a 6-hour sitting, and kind of burnt myself out a lil towards the end.

9: Favorite part of the story?

gotta be Mechonis Core! even though i expected ~something~ to happen i was in NO WAY prepared for what was to come. the way that it completely flipped everything you thought you knew about the world and the story of the game on its head and just kept delivering sucker punch after sucker punch .... i had to pause the game to scream into a pillow afterwards.

14: Favorite party member to play as?

Reyn because i like to stare at his muscles

i don’t have an outright favourite i don’t think, but i tend to cycle between Melia, Shulk, and Seven! i like Melia for reasons i’ve mostly listed below, Seven for the damage output of haste + speed shift + sword drones, and Shulk bc he is the main character and also My Son :’)

18: Favorite Arts to use?

i’m a huge fan of all of Melia’s elementals! i love how they add another layer of strategy to the gameplay, and it’s so satisfying taking down otherwise overlevelled / powerful enemies with her DoT attacks :’)

21: Favorite battle quote?

BORN IN A WORLD OF STRIFE!

AGAINST THE ODDS!

WE CHOOSE TO FIGHT!

BLOSSOM DANCE!

bonus points for the way it subtly relates to the overarching theme of the game :’’)

24: Favorite ship? ;)

SHULK / FIORA TO THE DAY I DIE THEY ARE PRECIOUS TOGETHER AND I WILL PROTECT THEM WITH MY LIFE

25: Favorite Heart-to-Heart?

i haven’t unlocked them all yet but oh my GOD the one between Shulk and Seven on the Fallen Arm ????? absolutely MELTED my HEART ??????? i instantly replayed it in the Event Theatre like three times just for the lines “none of it matters as long as i get to be with you. you’ll always be my [redacted]” i am going to CRY i love them so much ;;u;;

36: Least favorite game mechanic?

oh definitely the timed quests, while i love that they reflect the way that the game’s world is changed by the events of the story, i stressed myself tf out trying to complete as many of them as quick as possible bc i didn’t want to look up when they expired and risk spoiling myself but i also didn’t want to lock myself out of them. i definitely burnt myself out a little bit on Bionis’ Leg because of it, and i think i missed a few late-game ones because by that point i was just so tired of timed quests and just wanted to get on with the story lmfao

41: How did you come to know Xenoblade Chronicles?

oooh thank you for asking this one, i think it’s quite a cool story!! i’d just started watching Chuggaaconroy’s LPs back in 2014 when he started his playthrough of Xenoblade Chronicles, and i watched maybe the first episode or two before i realised that, fuck, maybe this was a game i really needed to play through myself. dumb bitch highschool me forgot about the tiny lil detail that i didn’t own a fucking Wii -- but then the 3DS port was announced! so i was like okay, i’ll get the 3DS version. except it was specifically for the New 3DS, and i only had an original -- so i figured i would wait a bit, save up some money, and grab a New 3DS when i went to upgrade my old one. except, so few (new) games were announced for the New 3DS that i couldn’t really justify dropping the ~$300 on an upgrade, and by the time i had the money the Switch was a thing, so i bought one of those instead. second-hand copies of Xenoblade used to be on sale at my local game store aaaall the time, and i cannot count how many times i would stare longingly at that $38 price tag and have to talk myself out of buying it in hopes of ‘”one day”’ having the appropriate system to play it on.

AND THEN. THE DEFINITIVE EDITION WAS ANNOUNCED. the hunch that 16-year-old Cat had was 100% correct; i am so so glad that i listened to it because playing through the game for the first time blind was a really special experience :’)

i have spent, no lie, 6 whole fucking years in anticipation of one day getting to play this game, and it was worth every dang second of the wait.

#thank u so much for the ask!!#sorry this took a while to get to; i couldn't decide on a lot of my favourites lmfao #dying-suffering-french-stalkers #ask meme #kiwi answers #xenoblade chronicles

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fanficobsess3d · 6 years ago

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Just The Way You Are

summary; it’s hard not to listen to the shit the northsiders spit at you (even though you are a northsider), because it’s unrelenting torture. Sweet Pea can tell that something’s wrong, but you just refuse to tell him.

warnings: fluff, swearing (uh, duh, it’s sweet pea did you really expect any different lmfao), possibly triggering if you’ve been bullied before or have issues with weight at all

word count; 8k

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The first time that Sweet Pea noticed that something was off with you, it was a cloudy Tuesday night - two weeks after the merge of the schools. It had been raining all day and everybody had felt like the sun had completely disappeared with how dark it had been, but he was still concerned about your attitude. You typically loved the rain - the smell, the sounds, the aesthetic of it - it was one of your favorite things about the outside world.

So needless to say, when you came into his trailer looking dead tired and on the verge of crying, he was concerned.

“Babe,” he started, setting his bottle of beer down and standing up to take large steps towards you. He took his face in your hands, moving your head around slightly so he could look up and down your body to try and find what was wrong. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffled, nudging his hands out of the way and plastering on a smile you hoped was convincing enough to ease his worries, pulling your jacket off to hand on the coat rack near the front door, nudging your backpack towards his small dining room table,” I’m just tired, I was up all night studying. I’m just stressed, babe.”

He knew how you got when you were stressed, and this wasn’t it, but if that’s all that you said was wrong, he would leave it at that.

You were typically a very honest person, very blunt and to-the-point, so it was unlikely of you to beat around the bush. And he knew that if something was really wrong, you would immediately tell him, because you both had an honesty policy; a policy that went into effect after Sweet Pea had almost died on a dangerous job that Penny Peabody had gotten involved in, a job that he hadn’t told you about.

He was trying to protect you from his dangerous life, but that had almost gotten him killed. Needless to say, nothing was ever kept from each other now.

But if you said it was just a night of studying that was stressing you out - in all honesty, you did look stressed, but normally you didn’t look this bad over assignments - then it was just a night of studying

The next time he noticed you looking so upset and “stressed” again, was no more than a week later. It was Friday, which was normally one of your favorite days of the week, but there you were, sitting beside Sweet Pea in ninth period English, looking like you’d rather be anywhere but on this planet. You had been in your seat for all of two seconds before you were laying your head on your crossed arms that you had placed on your desk.

And English was one of your favorite subjects, so you never hated coming to this class. Needless to say Sweet Pea’s boyfriend senses were tingling.

The teacher was lecturing on the metaphorical devices used in the Great Gatsby, but Sweet Pea could not have cared less. He adopted the same position that you were in, crossed arms on the table, head resting on them, before turning his head towards you and smiling softly. “You know,” he began in a soft whisper, watching as your head tilted slightly his way to hear his voice better, “I think Jay Gatsby would be very offended that you weren’t listening to all of the devices in his book.”

“Jay Gatsby can kiss my ass.” you retorted, sighing before you tilted your head towards him, giving him a small smile once you saw the twinkle in his eye that never failed to lift your spirits.

The smile that lit your mouth didn’t fool him though, because the smile quickly fell of of his and he was looking at you with a dark tint in his eye that he only got when someone threatened his family, “Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head towards you once he saw that the teacher had glanced at them questioningly before continuing with her lecture.

“Yeah?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No offense babe,” he started, wincing when you lifted your eyebrow, “but you look like you’d rather jump into a vat of boiling toilet water than be here right now.”

“Wow,” you started, rolling your eyes with a snort, “thank you for that lovely description, Pea. That’s just what I needed to hear from my oh so loving boyfriend today.”

“You know that’s not what I meant-” he started, trying to reign the conversation back in before you got angry. Your temper was very similar to his, and when you got angry, he got angry, so he had to try and calm you down before his concerns went haywire.

“No,” you sighed, turning your head back into your arms, baffling Sweet Pea even more, “I get it, I look like shit.”

Normally if Sweet Pea started a sentence off like that you’d be pissed; but here you were, talking this lying down, turning back in on yourself like a stressed turtle. It was like alarms were going off in his head, you were never this quick to back down.

“I just mean that you look tired.” he relented, pausing to look around the room as kids started to pack up their belongings as it got closer to the bell time.

“I know what you mean, but you’re right - I do look like shit. My damn trig teacher gave us another project due in two weeks and I’m trying to get that done.”

“On top of your Euro essay?” he asked, looking towards you, bewildered.

“Yeah.” you nodded, sitting up to start packing your belongings into your backpack like the other kids. You yawned, pushing your glasses onto your head to rub your eyes tiredly, standing up to throw your backpack onto your shoulder.

He stood up beside you, lifting his backpack onto his shoulder as well before turning back to you. He had opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as he examined you. You... looked different. You looked smaller. He hadn’t really noticed it before, since you typically wear clothes that were more on the baggy side, but you were wearing jeans and a t-shirt today, one of his flannel’s over top of it.

Now that he was thinking of it, your face looked skinnier too, your arms and legs looking thinner. Just above the collar of your shirt he could see your collarbones peaking out more than usual.

Now, let’s just get this out of the way - Sweet Pea did not think that you were fat. At all. He thought you were perfect. Yeah, you weren’t skinny as a stick, but you weren’t unhealthy either. He himself wasn’t 100% muscle, but he was happy with himself, especially when he saw how you blushed when he took his shirt off, which absolutely drove him insane.

But it was concerning to see you this small when you normally weren’t.

He looked back over you again, watching you stretch with another yawn; you were stressed. Normally when you got super preoccupied with something it was easy for you to forget about the other things in the world, like food, or people. It was easy for you to become enveloped in your assignments, so he wasn’t completely concerned.

He knew that once you’d finished your assignments that you’d be back to normal.

For now, he’d just have to wait.

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You were walking to your locker by yourself a few days later, Sweet Pea having skipped the day for another job assigned to him by FP. The school day had ended, and kids were practically sprinting out of the building to get home, a feeling that you had been anticipating yourself.

You had just opened your locker to put on your coat when you heard the laughing.

Your body immediately tensed, movements quickening and breath increasing as you tried to get all of your stuff before they came over here. It was nice when Sweet Pea was here, because no one would bother you here; but without him, you were fair game to them.

“And look who it is!” you heard Reggie call, his posse laughing next to him. You were shoving your books into you backpack at this point, grabbing your last binder and slamming your locker shut. You saw them coming from down the hall towards your right, so you quickly turned left, trying to leave, but found yourself cornered by the girls on the squad.

It was some of the more lower cadets, since Cheryl herself was dating a serpent, but just because she was the captain didn’t mean that everyone listened to her; no matter how much she tried to fight for that power otherwise.

You sighed in anguish, tilting your head back in exasperation.

Fuck. You were fucked.

You turned back once you heard some of the Bulldogs snort at you, staring at Reggie with your eyebrow raised, “What do you want, Reggie?” you asked, clutching at the binder in your hand. The quicker that you got this over with the quicker it would end.

“Just came to see how you and the serpent were doing.” he said, hissing the word serpent like it would give him a disease just from saying it.

“Me and Sweet Pea,” you enunciated his name with a smile, “are doing just fine, Reginald.”

You could see his face tighten in irritation, as the Bulldogs tried to hide their amused smirks; everybody and their mother knew that Reggie hated his actual name. With a burning passion that could rival every fire known to man. Needless to say, it was your go to insult for him since it was just so entertaining to see how much it pissed him off.

“Surprising,” he started, crossing his arms with a slight smirk on his face that scared the living daylights out of you. “Considering that he had eyeballs.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean, Reginald?” you asked, watching as his eyes darkened in anger slightly.

“It means,” one of the girls said behind you, making you turn around to see her, “that we’re all surprised that he’s still with you when you’re so damn ugly and fat.”

It was the same insult with them, every time they saw you. You see, they hated the fact that you were a northsider that was dating a southsider - a serpent, no less. They couldn’t really make you break up, so the best that they could do was isolate you from everyone else, make fun of you, and break you until you guys would break up. It hadn’t been long since the merging of the two high schools, but you and Sweet Pea had been dating for much, much longer than that.

You met two years ago, on the night that your father had stormed out of the house with his belongings, smacking your mother before leaving for good. It had been too much to be around, dealing with his anger issues, so you had left and gotten lost in the southside. Your phone had died, and you had nowhere to go; so you let yourself get lost in the most dangerous part of town. It had started raining, so you hid under some random buildings sidings to try and avoid it.

Once you had stopped, you had started crying - the events from the night getting to you. That was where Sweet Pea had found you, a bruise on your face, tears rolling down your cheeks, looking utterly hopeless. Normally, he didn’t care about who he found in the southside, but you had been dressed far too well to be there.

But there was something about you that intrigued him, something that made him want to take care of you. And it was the same vice versa; something made you curious about the cute, tall, serpent boy that had helped you in your time of need. Needless to say, you let yourself get lost in the southside more often after that.

“Wow, Rebecca, that was a bit nice.” one of the other girls said behind you, startling you out of your thoughts. She turned to you, scoffing as she looked up and down your body before resting on your face, “You look like a hag, honestly. I mean, I knew that some of the Serpents were stupid, but dating you is just plain dumb.”

You rolled your eyes, hiking your backpack up your shoulder again, feeling your eyes start to burn with tears that you hated. You hated being upset over what they said about you, but you couldn’t help it. You knew that you were ugly, you hated how you looked, but somehow, Sweet Pea was still with you, even after all of this time. It was like they knew all of your fears and insecurities and just threw it at you every chance you got.

“Are y’all done? You know, y’all say the same thing every time you see me, you should really get some better insults, guys.”

You could see them all getting irritated, before one of the girls decided to speak up, “You want some better insults?” she asked, glancing down at her smoothie slightly before turning back to you, “Try this on for size then, Serpent Slut.”

You hadn’t had any time to react before she grabbed the lid off of her smoothie and threw it at you, letting the cold, mashed fruit drip down your body. It had been some weird grass smoothie too, so it was green and you were covered in it. You could feel it dripping down your skin, soaking your clothes and the binder that was in your arms.

You could hear them laughing around you, the clicking of phones echoing around you before you had finally had enough and turned around, walking away from them, praying that they’d let you leave.

But the laughing had echoed around you even after you had gone to bed that night.

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Sweet Pea glanced around the Wyrm, listening to some story Fangs was telling the group about some girl who had turned him down in the most hilariously embarrassing way possible.

“And then - and THEN she leaves my ass standing there -!” Fangs continued, reveling in the laughs that were brought out from the group, Toni bent over, cackling, as she prepared some more drinks. Cheryl was next to her, giggling as she cleaned some of the glasses next to her.

“Dude, that girl is wild!” one of the newer serpents said, causing another round of laughs to echo around them.

In the midst of all of the laughs, though, it went unnoticed as Cheryl’s phone pinged with notifications. She picked up her phone, unlocking it before going into her notifications. She gasped in shock, showing her phone to Toni, clicking some more buttons and exploring before she started swearing up and down.

Toni turned to Sweet Pea, watching as his eyes darkened in anticipation,” Dude, have you checked your girlfriend’s Instagram lately?” she asked with a scoff.

“No,” he said, sitting up straighter and watching as she shook her head angrily, “What’s wrong?”

“Show him.” Toni demanded to Cheryl, who handed the phone to Sweet Pea.

He looked over the phone angrily, looking at his girlfriend’s profile. It seemed normal; her aesthetic black and white pictures that she loved to take, pictures of her cats that were like her children, the rare one selfie she had posted that Sweet Pea had demanded she keep up so everyone could see how beautiful his girlfriend was.

He shook his head in confusion, “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

Toni sighed, “Click on her selfie and look at the comments.”

He tapped the picture, going into the comments. Before, when that picture had been posted, he was the only one who had commented on it, spamming it with texts of approval and love, but now, he felt his chest tighten with anger as he saw all of the disgusting, vile comments that kids from the high school had put on it. He could feel his vision turning red, god he hated fucking northside kids.

“Now look at what she’s tagged in.” Cheryl said softly, making him snap his head up.

“What the hell is she tagged in?” he asked, already turning back to the phone and quickly going to the tagged part of her profile. The last twenty pictures that had been posted within the last hour were nothing but his girl covered in some disgusting green drink. There was even a video that someone took of the minute leading up to the drink tossing, and every word made his blood boil.

Even in the video you could see how glass her eyes got when everyone started taking pictures of her; he knew his girl well, and no matter how much she would try to hide her emotions, there were some times when she would feel everything at once and she wouldn’t be able to control it.

“I’m gonna kill every single one of them.” he swore, handing Cheryl back her phone before stomping out of the Wyrm. He ran to his bike, pulling out his phone and blowing up Y/N’s phone with text messages. He knew that she’d be upset right now, but he needed to get her out of the house.

He knew that it wasn’t just stress! He couldn’t believe that those fucking kids were ruining her life like that; god he was so pissed. As he kept sending her texts, every memory that he’d had with her at that damn high school kept replaying through his mind.

The day that the bulldogs had scoffed at them, growling like the mutts that they were when they had walked past; Sweet Pea had thought that they’d done it at him, but now that he’s thinking about it, they were doing it to her too.

The one time the vixens had been walking around the school and had bumped into her shoulder. Sweet Pea normally never hit girls, but he didn’t discriminate in fights, so he’d assumed they’d been going after him. But they literally rammed into her; it must’ve hurt too.

God, how could he have been so stupid? This entire time, the stress, the bags under her eyes, the collarbones peeking out of her shoulders - it explained it all.

He threw his legs over his bike, revving the engine before driving to his trailer.

He knew that she wouldn’t want to do this at her house, or outside, so they needed privacy. And while he was upset about it all, he was pissed at her for lying. Underneath the anger he understood why she hadn’t said anything, but he told her over and over again that he would protect her. It was a blow to his ego - if she didn’t want to tell him, did that mean she didn’t trust him enough to protect her? Did she really not want him involved? He was a serpent after all, maybe he’d just fuck it up, like he always does.

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He had been pacing around his trailer angrily, strained breaths escaping his teeth; god he was so mad. It had taken everything in him not to grab his knife and the other serpents and tear them all apart.

Soon enough, he heard the squeal of car brakes and the slamming of a door before he heard your sprinting footsteps. You hadn’t even bothered to knock before you slammed the door open, panting heavily with worried eyes. Once you had seen him, you quickly slammed the door, running towards him and throwing yourself into his chest.

From his texts, you had assumed he’d been injured or something; you were terrified the entire way over here. You pulled back when he didn’t lean down to reciprocate the hug, looking over his body and fussing like a worried mother hen. “Where are you hurt? Are you bleeding? Do you need a hospital-”

“Y/N, stop.” He demanded, cutting you off immediately. His attitude had startled you, causing you to look up at him in confusion. You flinched back once you saw the anger in his eyes, but it was directed at you, which scared you more.

“Pea what’s - what’s wrong?” you asked, stepping back from him in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” he said, letting out a dark laugh that worried you, “What’s wrong is that my girlfriend is keeping secrets from me!”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

“Don’t act like you haven’t seen Instagram, babe, it’s everywhere!” he swore, kicking the couch angrily. Your face paled in response, and he felt bad since he was probably scaring you, but he’d been so angry and so hurt. The only thing that was going through his mind was destroy, destroy, destroy.

“I...” you started, gulping down the tears that were causing a lump in your throat, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He turned to you with a scoff, “Stop the lying, Y/N! Everyone’s seen it!”

You had opened your mouth to retort, but you quickly shut it again, closing your eyes and sighing sadly. You ran your hands through your hair, backing up until you were resting against the dining room table. You took a shuddering breath, trying to hold the tears back, but it was like you were a waterfall at this point.

Your couldn’t stop, no matter how many times you wiped them away, sniffling and coughing, trying to get them to stop. “I’m-” you blubbered, “I’m sorry.”

The second that you had started crying it was like his anger was momentarily shut off. He looked down as his clenched fists, letting them ease back to normal again before he walked towards you, gently pressing your face into his chest and letting you cry.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You sobbed, clenching onto his jacket in anguish. You felt so bad hiding it from him, but Reggie had threatened the Serpents, if you even thought about telling anyone.

Sweet Pea shushed you in guilt, leaning down to press a kiss on the top of your head. “It’s okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“I should’ve told you!” you cried, shoulders shaking with each sob, “It’s my fault, I just mess everything up!”

His eyes widened as he looked down at you, what the hell were you talking about? You made everything better! You were smart, and gorgeous, and kind, and loving and everything that Sweet Pea would ever need in this world. If anything, he was the fuck up in this relationship. I mean, shit, he literally yelled at you for not saying anything when you literally got a smoothie thrown at you today. God, he was such a dick.

“What the hell are you talking about, baby doll? You couldn’t mess anything up even if you tried.” he reasoned, shaking his head just to hug you tighter. God, with every single sob you let out it felt like his heart was pulsating in pain. He hated when you were upset, it was like your pain was palpable.

You pulled back from his chest, shaking your head in disagreement,” Look at us, Pea! You’re smarter and better than me at probably everything and here we are!” you swore, throwing your arms to gesture to your relationship. You were probably ruining his life in someway; just being near you could give someone enough bad luck to murder an entire population, honestly.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he said in surprise, letting you push his chest away and walk around him to stand in the middle of his living room. He watched you put your hand on your hips, shaking your head and taking deep breaths.

You turned back to him after you had slightly calmed down, biting your lip and sniffling, “Look at us, Pea. Look at me! You could have anybody in this damn town that you wanted, anybody! But you’re with me. There’s something wrong with that, don’t you see it?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be seeing,” he said, forehead wrinkling in his confusion. Were you saying that he was better than you? Seriously?

“Look at me! I am the biggest fuck up you could possible find on the northside. I’m ugly and stupid and fat and I don’t even know why you’re with me when there’s a plethora of girls lining up at your fucking doorstep.”

He looked at you in surprise, trying to figure out how to handle this. You hadn’t broken down on him like this before; sure you had talked to him about stuff, showed him your darkest secrets and family problems, but it had never been like this.

“I don’t know if you’re just being stupid, babe, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a Serpent. No one on the northside wants anything to do with me.”

“And I don’t know if you’re being stupid, babe, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m literally the worst option of any northside girl to pick from. Hell, I’m uglier than the girls from the damn southside too - I’m just the biggest fuck up in all of Riverdale! If you’re seriously saying to me that nobody from the northside wants anything to do with you, then I might have to call you stupid.”

“Okay, now you’re pissing me off. What the hell are you talking about?” he said, taking another step towards you.

You sighed, throwing your head back and staring up at the ceiling. Damn, he could be so stupid sometimes, it wasn’t even funny.

“I’m talking about how I’m not good enough for you,” you said, startling him out of the silence. He looked at you with his eyes wide, you were being fucking serious? “Everyone constantly tells me that I’m lucky that you’d even fucking look at me; southsider or not. Nobody on the northside wants anything to do with me, I was just lucky that someone wanted me period; but you’re smarter than that. I know you are, Pea.”

“I’m really going to have to beat Mantle’s ass because if anyone’s not good enough for someone here, it’s me.” he retorted, watching you shake your head.

“I’m a disgusting human being, and I honestly get concerned about you sometimes when you tell me that you love me.....” you let more tears trail down your face before you turned back to him, “Are you just with me out of pity?”

The sentence slapped him in the face so hard it made him take a step back; had you really been this damaged by them that you were this convinced of how shitty you were?

“What? How could you even think that?” he asked, taking more steps towards you until your face was in his hands. You shut your eyes, looking down and letting more tears trail down your cheeks.

“Look at us, Pea. I’m the weak one, the ugly one; there’s no point in us being together when I’m messing it all up!”

“That’s why you didn’t tell me?” he asked, looking down at your sobbing figure in surprise, “I thought you didn’t think I could protect you.”

You startled back from his chest, looking up at him concerned, “If I didn’t think that your six foot three inches of nothing but 200 pounds of muscle could protect me, I’d need a mental asylum.”

“So you do trust me?” he asked, blushing slightly as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

“Of course I trust you, dumb ass! Reggie threatened me if I tried to tell!” you blurted out, eyes widening before you slapped your hand over you mouth. You hadn’t meant to tell him that, he would get seriously pissed and you were very concerned with the outcome of that.

Sweet Pea looked down at you, his eyes growing dark in anger, “He what? What did he threaten you with?” You sighed, shuffling your feet sheepishly, nervously wringing your hands together. If you told him what Reggie was holding over your head, it would just piss him off more, and while you could calm him down, you were still very, very, worried. “Y/N? What did he threaten you with?”

You looked up at him before quickly looking back down, “He said he’d get all of the serpents expelled so that none of you could go to school anymore.”

Out of all of the things that Sweet Pea could’ve guessed for him to threaten you with, that was certainly not one of his guesses. That wasn’t even in the ballpark of his guesses. But honestly, the more that he thought about it, the more it made sense. “Why would he threaten you with that?”

“Because he knows how much I care about you guys; how much I want you guys to learn. You guys are smarter than a lot of people give you credit for, and he knew that I wanted you guys there.” you bit your lip nervously, playing with the skin on by your fingernails.

It was true, though. You had wanted the Serpents there more than anybody else; because Southside High was complete garbage, and none of the serpents would have any future if they went there. You had gotten into a lot of arguments with people while defending them, and Reggie had taken advantage of that.

You hadn’t grown up around them, and you certainly weren’t a Southsider, nor were you a serpent, but they had become your family. When you had met Sweet Pea, they had followed along as well; it was like you were the pretty, shiny new toy. You were smart, and not mean - it was kind of like a miracle, honestly. You had started to help the younger serpents out with tutoring and such, hoping to help them become smarter since Southside High wasn’t teaching them shit.

You had become an honorary Serpent, without or without the initiation, with or without the damn tattoo. After a year of dating, Sweet Pea had gotten you a silver necklace, a simple chain that held a bright green snake in the middle of it; and it had never left your neck.

You were his girl, and according to the rules; if a serpent is killed or imprisoned, their family will be taken care of. You were his family, and he would be damned if you weren’t treated like it.

Sweet Pea grabbed your face in his hands, forcing you to look him in the eye, “Reggie fucking Mantle threatened you with our education?”

You ignored how tight his hands were pressing your cheeks together, nodding, “Yeah.”

The love that he felt throbbing for you in his chest was so overpowering that he couldn’t help but press his lips against yours. Any anger or any sadness that you had felt while you were arguing was completely washed away by the comfort that softened your body into his as his tongue pressed past your lips.

He pulled away, breath heavily panting from his chest, smiling at you softly. He lead you to the couch, laying down to pull you to his chest, lying the blanket over your entwined bodies. You laid across his chest, legs entwined with his, completely unaware of where you ended and he began.

The night had been quiet, nothing but the beatings of your hearts echoing through the night. Until...

“You do know that I’m still going to fucking merk Reggie Mantle, right?”

“You wouldn’t be the man I love if you didn’t.”

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The next morning is full of languid kisses and lingering touches, both of you taking three times as long to get out of bed since neither of you can stop touching the other. It felt like your relationship was different now - it felt more comfortable, more bonded, if you could even call it that. Sure, you guys had only fought, but after telling him what you felt was wrong with you, he still wanted you; and that was the best feeling in the entire world.

That night, you guys stayed up late talking about it; each of your fears, and insecurities. And despite the fact that those would take some time to go away, it already felt like they had disappeared, because now it felt like you both were in this together, like nothing could break you apart anymore.

He agreed that you guys would find some solution with the Bulldogs before the Serpents were blamed for anything, but that would also require talking to the other Serpents, since they were effected too. He promised that he would stop at nothing to absolutely ruin Reggie Mantle and his stupid friends for what they had done to you.

He had thought that you hadn’t trust him enough to protect you, but you had quickly reassured him that you were just protecting him instead. You knew how much his education meant to him, along with the other Serpents; you wouldn’t let one stupid jock ruin all of that progress. You completely trusted him with your safety and defense, but you just told him that this was your battle to defend right now. He could take the next one.

That had gotten you a lot of kisses that night and the next morning.

But eventually, you both had to get up for school, so with a quick shower you both got dressed and headed off, stopping at your house for your backpack and sneaking back out before your mother could hear you.

When you had gotten to the school, you hopped off of his motorcycle, nudging him as he glared up at the building. “Hmm?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of his surroundings.

“Shit, if I’d known that you were gonna turn into a fucking hawk and ignore me then I wouldn’t have told you anything.” you joked, setting your helmet onto his bike, watching his head immediately turn down to you with a smile.

“Hey, this is my battle now,” he quoted you, gesturing towards the school as he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the entrance, “And I always win my battles when it comes to my girl.”

You blushed slightly, head turning down to step closer to him, allowing his arm to pull you closer before wrapping around your shoulder. “I wonder how different it’s gonna be today. This is the first time they’ve posted something online.”

“Well, I don’t know how it’ll go, but I do know that I’m going to beat someone’s ass today, probably multiple, so make sure you’re planned for it.” he said, a cheeky smile on his face as you whacked his chest with the back of your hand slightly.

He walked you to your locker, glaring at anyone who even looked in your direction, sending everybody running with their tails between their legs. Now that he knew what you’d been dealing with, he wasn’t letting anybody get near you.

Never again.

Once you had gathered your stuff, he walked you to your first period trigonometry class, one of your college credit classes that you hated, hoping to keep the smile on your face. You were in the middle of the hall with him, the classroom at the end of the corridor, when the smile fell off his face.

You followed the direction of his eye and gulped when you found the group of Bulldogs at the end of the hallway, conveniently in front of your classroom doorway. You nudged Pea, causing him to look down at you with an eyebrow raised, anger brewing in his eyes, “I know that you’re pissed, but you can’t take all of them on. Talk to the Serpents and figure it out before you end up in the hospital.”

He chuckled darkly, leaning down to press a kiss into your cheek, before leaning down into your ear, “I will take on whoever and however many I have to if it means I get to beat the ass of the guy who’s been making your life hell. No matter how many of them there are, I will make them regret it.”

You shivered as you felt his warm breath trailing down your neck, trying not to clench your thighs together, ignoring his chuckle as he watched your reaction, “Then do it; but do it with the Serpents. I’d rather you not end up in the hospital, babe.”

He looked down into your eyes, glancing over at the Bulldogs congregating outside your classroom doorway before he turned back down to you, nodding with a smile and putting a kiss on your forehead. “Do you still want me to walk you to trig?” he asked, gesturing towards the boys near it.

He didn’t like the idea of sending you down there alone, but he knew that if he went down there he’d do something and fight somebody, which would piss you off. This was his battle to fight, but you were his adviser, and he wouldn’t go into battle until you had both come up with a plan. You guys had already made the mistake of not including each other once, you wouldn’t do it again.

“I’ll go by myself, I can handle them. They won’t do anything to me when so many students are around.” you reassured him, smiling at him softly with a love in your eyes that made his heart skip a beat. “Hurry up and get to history before you’re late.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said, saluting you before pressing another kiss to your forehead and walking off to find Fangs. You could hear them greeting each other from the end of the hallway, play fighting and rough housing until a teacher broke them up. Their laughs echoed around you, and when Sweet Pea turned to send you a smile, you found the confidence to walk to trig.

Thankfully when you had gotten down there, the boys hadn’t said anything to you, but they didn’t have to with how many glares they sent.

Class went by uneventfully, the day passing by until you were in ninth period English, your only class with Sweet Pea. He threw himself into his seat, sprawling out his long legs in around the desk, leaning back to stare at you with a Cheshire grin on his face.

“What did you do?” you asked, crossing your arms and biting your lip to hide your growing smile. The grin that he had was the grin that he got whenever he was up to something, and damn you if it wasn’t attractive. You clenched your legs together softly, focusing on the words that came out of his mouth rather than the smile on his lips. But his lips were very hard to ignore.

“I haven’t done anything... yet.” he said, a snort coming out of his mouth as you sighed in exasperation.

“Did you talk to the serpents, at least?” you asked, a smile coming onto your face as you grabbed your notebook out of your bag, the bell ringing for class to start.

He nodded, his smile somewhat fading as his eyes darkened in seriousness, “They’re thankful for what you did. Toni’s ready to cut someone’s head off, as is Cheryl; the rest of them just want to beat their asses.”

“Good.” you nodded, sighing in relief, “At least I won’t have to worry about you getting put in the hospital.”

He snorted, “Someone’s getting put in the hospital all right, but it’s sure as hell not gonna be me, baby doll.” there was something about the cockiness in his voice that reminded you of last night, and you turned down to your notebook with a blush on your face as you started to take notes.

You ignored his chuckles as class went on.

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When the bell had finally rung, you had practically sprinted to your locker, trying to get away from Sweet Pea and his god-awful innuendos about last night. It had been hard enough trying to ignore him when he looked good today, but that had been your breaking point.

You panted with a slightly smile as you opened your locker, giggling as you quickly tried to shove your books into your backpack before Sweet Pea could get to you. Since he was so huge, it would take him a minute or two to get through the crowd, but since you were so small, you had easily maneuvered yourself through the traffic.

Plus, your locker was on the other side of the building, so it would take him a minute to get here. When your phone pinged in your pocket, you pulled it out to find a text from him; you can run, but you can’t hide, baby doll

You giggled in anticipation, quickly putting your phone back into your pocket as you grabbed your beanie and pulled it over your head. You shut your locker, turning around to take back off into the hallway when you heard his voice.

“There she is: the resident Serpent Slut!” he called, tendrils of anger dripping through his voice. You turned to find Reggie Mantle, a few of his friends behind him, the girls next to him with their arms crossed over their chest.

“There he is: Reginald the Rat Reject!” you called back, smiling at him in satisfaction as a snort escaped your nose. You could see the anger in his eyes, which only made you giggle more.

“Funny, your Serpent isn’t here.” he said, glancing around the hallway in mock concern, “He knows about our meetings yet he still doesn’t care. How quaint.”

“Funny how you’re so ugly yet you still haven’t been exterminated.” you said, looking at him in a patronizing pity that had you snickering as he got more angry.

The girls that were with him walked past you, looking up and down your form with judgement before scoffing and walking to stand behind your back before you turned back to Reggie

“You’re just asking for this then, bitch.”

“What are you gonna d-” you had started off when you felt your beanie get yanked off of your head, hair being yanked back.

You quickly spun around, throwing out your leg towards the bitch’s stomach and watching as her body fell to the floor. Her other minions reached for you, trying to grab your arms and legs but you just continued to throw them off of you, hitting and kicking and punching until they were gone.

You turned around, about to ask Reggie the question again when you were met with a hard slap that sent you to the ground. You could hear the gasps of the guys behind him, and when you looked up, cheek stinging and eyes watering, your eyes hardened in anger.

You had opened your mouth to retort to him when someone had beat you to it, “Yeah, you’re gonna regret that, mutt.”

It had only taken two seconds for Sweet Pea to launch his fist into Reggie’s face, body flying into the lockers before being punched again, and again, and again.

You could see the Bulldogs looking at each other in question, they hadn’t agreed to hurt you, they just wanted to scare you a little bit. They didn’t like the fact that he had hit you, so they were a bit on the fence about defending him.

You could hear other footsteps before there were hands lifting you to your feet. You turned to find Toni and Cheryl, smiling at them in gratitude as they looked around you to glare at the guys who had tucked tail and run. The other serpents had arrived, along with some of their northside friends; guess they had been too scared to face off with us.

You turned back to Sweet Pea once you heard him grunt again, and found him launching punches into Reggie’s face as he tried to get up. You could see that Reggie was giving up on trying to get away from Sweet Pea’s antics, quickly allowing himself to fall to the floor unconscious as one final punch came from Sweet Pea’s fist.

He stood up, his chest panting with heavy breaths before he stepped over his unconscious body and walked over to you. Toni and Cheryl walked away, gathering the other serpents as Sweet Pea grabbed your face in his hands, looking over the red slap that was still red and burning on your face.

“Come on,” he said, gulping with anger, “let’s get you home before I beat his ass again.”

He walked us out to his bike, quickly sitting on his bike and grabbing the helmet before I grabbed his arm. I smiled at him softly once he looked at me in confusion, leaning over to to press my mouth to his lightly, sighing in content. I pulled back from him, nudging his nose with mine as he tried to lean forward and kiss me again.

“What was that for?” he asked, breath fast and voice rugged.

“Thank you,” you started, pressing your forehead to his. “For protecting me.”

He swore, pressing his lips to yours again, pressing his tongue against yours before pulling back.

“Never thank me for that, baby doll. I love you just the way you are, even if those bastards don’t want me to.”

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