#enjoy your little stupid fucking baby server

[willoftrees]

btw if u kick a person from ur minecraft swrver because they didn't tell the only other person from ur server that they have contact with, that they are getting online- then ur a dickhead. :3

ppl put time and energy into the shit they do on ur server instead of playing on their own. the least u can do is fucking communicate with them.

[slasher-key]

We’ll Be The Stars (Jack Thurlowe)

Pairing: Jack Thurlowe x GN!!Reader

Warnings: None just profanity & lovey dovey shit

Jack has been couped up in his house for a while, so you decide to pick him up, and take him on a little adventure. He doesn’t want to go at first, but can he really say no to you? The answer is no.

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“Open up fucker, you need to get out of this fucking house, Jack!!!” I scream banging on my best friend’s front door. “No!!! I hate nature and you know that, I’m not going.” He replies. We’ve been going at this for almost 20 minutes now. I’m just trying to be a good fucking friend, and make him feel better, but no, he wants to be a bitch about it. “Jack!! you dumb bitch, I know you don’t like nature, but maybe getting out of this house for a while will fucking help you.” He’s so fucking stubborn. “ fine, I’ll pay for food, whatever you want.” I add, trying to get him to give in. 

When I don’t get a reply after, I know he is contemplating opening the door. After a few seconds, I see the door knob slowly turn and he slightly opens the door. “Anything I want?” he says poking his head out of the door. “Yes, stupid anything you want.” I reply, laughing at his child like behavior.

He finally lets me in the house and I wait in the living room for him to finish getting ready. “I’m ready,” he yells, running down the stairs. We leave the house and make our way to the burger place that Jack chose. We went to this place a lot as kids, so Jack likes to eat here every time he comes back from LA. Since it’s a local place he can’t get it there. I eat it a lot but I don’t really mind going more for him. 

We got our booth and I told him the plans about our little nature walk. “Hello I’m Alex and I’ll be your server today.” We both look up and smile at him. He must be new. “Can I start you off with some drinks?” He asks looking directly at me. We stare at each other for a few seconds, until Jack speaks up “Yeah, I’ll have a coke” He says, obnoxiously loud. “I’ll have the same,” I add, glaring at Jack in the process. “Nice, I’ll let you look at the menu for a bit, and I’ll be back to take your order.” He says, starting to walk away. “Well we already know what we want.” Jack replies, being a little rude, might I add. “Oh, okay” he says, looking at me with the “Your friend is crazy smile”. I just give him an apologetic smile and let jack order our usual. 

The rest of the time we are at the restaurant Jack glares and makes snarky comments at and about Alex, and I can tell he wanted to do even worse. “Well, he should be fucking fired.” Jack says, as we walk out of the restaurant. “What!! why he was sweet, he got every thing right, and he was new.” I reply “Maybe he shouldn’t flirt with the customers so much, I couldn’t even enjoy my food because he was eye fucking you so hard from the other table and even when he was behind the counter.” He rambles. “Awww is my Jackie jealous?” I ask, in a baby voice to annoy him even more. “Yes!! Jackie is jealous, because he wanted to spend time in his favorite place, with his favorite person but, NO!! the waiter had to fuck it up and flirt with them the whole time, even when he wasn’t waiting on our table.” He says, face turning red. “Come on Jack, it’s not my fault, I’m just irresistible,” I joke. “Whatever let’s just go” He says.

Jack frowned the whole ride to the park, and the whole walk to the flower pasture that I wanted to show him. It was mostly just me talking, and him giving me one word answers, up to three if I was lucky. So as we sit in complete silence on the blanket I brought, I can’t help but feel bad for earlier. “I’m sorry about what happened today Jack,” I say, breaking the silence. “It’s fine, you were right anyway,” he replies. “Right about what?” I ask. He tries his best to hide the smile forming on his face. “You are irresistible,” He says, not being able to hold in his laughter in. Not long after I join him, and we just sit and laugh for hours.

The sun finally sets on us and the night sky shines brightly. The moon is full, the stars fill up the sky, and it is all just perfect. Jack and I both lay on our backs to look up at the sky.  “Do you think when people die they become stars, you know, to look over us?” Jack asks, breaking to comfortable silence between us. “Maybe, do you wanna be a star when you go?” I ask. “Hell yeah I do, a big ball of fiery hot gas, yep, that’s me.” He replies. We both look at each other and burst into fits of laughter. “No but seriously, I feel like it’s a nice way to let people know I’m still here in spirit.” He says, laughter dying down. ��Maybe one day we can be happy in the stars together.” I reply, looking over at him. We stare at each other for a little until. “I LOVE YOU!!” Jack yells. We both go silent, and stare at each other for a while. “Ummmm I’m sorry that was weird... I” he starts. I cut him off gently grabbing his facing and closing the gap between us. We pull away after a few seconds, which felt like minutes “I don’t think you realize how long I have waited for you to say that,” I say. “really?” He replies, confusion written on his face. “I have always loved you Jack and I always will.” I say pulling him in once again.

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Hope you enjoyed!! Thank You so much for reading <3 <3 <3

[bluegekk0]

my favorite pastime is imagining my blorbos playing minecraft. what kind of player would they be? what would they enjoy doing the most? idk what it is about minecraft but it can tell you so much about a person

fpk would primarily do redstone stuff. he's not very good at combat or exploring, he's a bit slow and his small hands don't mesh well with a keyboard, and he doesn't have the artistic creativity for building. but with redstone? he could build insane farms, or advanced mechanisms, he'd be the mf to spend all night making a working redstone computer within the game

grimm complements fpk's redstone skills insanely well. he has the eye for aesthetic and enjoys decorating fpk's base to make it look prettier. all those crazy mechanisms fpk builds? grimm will create the most impressive looking outer shell to make it more pleasing to look at. will always offer to decorate your house, and spends most of his time making the area around everyone's base look good

hornet is an explorer, she's the one lagging the server by loading hundreds of chunks every time she's on. she doesn't need a map to find specific locations, she memorizes where they are and can easily track them again after returning home. she would also be pretty good at combat, though her lack of patience means she often dies in very stupid ways. also, she loves bullying zote. asks fpk for redstone trap advice just so she can build a tnt trap under zote's house

holly almost exclusively makes cute little farms for animals and spends their time fishing. they stay away from combat (though they're surprisingly good at it) and instead choose relaxing activities. if anyone builds a strip mine, you'll often find them mining in peace. whenever anyone needs a lot of cave resources, or wool, or a shit ton of wheat and potatoes, holly is the one who has it all, and they will always let you take all of it

zote kind of sucks at everything, but, of course, pretends otherwise. he will challenge hornet to combat (loses), he will try to fight the zombies that surround his house (dies to a random creeper) and he will go mining for diamonds (drowns in lava). if the server had a death counter, he would be at the top, and of course would boast about it. whenever he's not attempting to fuck over hornet's house, he chills at holly's farm, and he will accidentally let all of their sheep out of their pen

lewk is still very young at this point in the au lore, so he mostly just watches either of his dads play. after getting his own account, he would just run around and check what the others are doing, offering to help them around (even if he doesn't really know what he's doing or how all of it works. he is a baby after all). he would particularly enjoy joining hornet on her adventures, and every time he dies, hornet teleports him back to her, despite being against using cheats. he also gets free stuff from her that she gave him using commands. their little secret. how did that baby get a fully enchanted netherite sword? clearly he's just that good

i know this is a bit random but i just felt like talking about the blorbos. your honor, i love them. they are everything to me ❤️

[inkedmyths]

S1: E17 “Hell House”

Brought to you by I really should have known better than to link my blog in a server, huh

The episode featuring: Ghost hunters, the power of storytelling, prank wars, and Blue Öyster Cult

Lets make this hell house into a hell home

We are in Texas baby! Yeeeeeeehaw

[ Kayla asks if I'm really starting during the Anonpocalypse. The answer is yes. ]

Classic horror beginning. 3 guys and a girl investigate a haunted house. They probably die

"Only goes after girls" classic

[ Crepe realizes something, and tells Kayla. They both start cheering excitedly. Melon joins in. Apparently this episode begins the "best gimmick". I am scared. ]

Behiiiiind yoooou

OH THAT GIRL IS STRAIGHT UP DEAD

Oh look Sam take a nap

DEAN YOU ARE DRIVING LEAVE YOUR NAPPING BROTHER ALONE

Lmao Dean bopping to the music

LMAO yea actually I want more Winchester prank wars

Oh first a racist truck, now a misogynistic ghost? Fun

Getting high behind a Dennys?

[ Crepe: It's not like Denny's is a real place. ]

Oh. Oh no.

4 stupid teens young kids....

Ah. Lovely. A dad that murdered his 6 daughters. Joy.

Thats fair kid. Don't go near the house! Be smarter than past you was!

Oh the old fuse box thing is messing with the EMF? Interesting

Oh cool Satanist lore

"This is exactly why you never get laid" hey Dean some people like a nerdy guy

[ Kayla: Like Dean, for instance. Am I saying he's a nerd, or that he likes nerdy guys? Yes. ]

"I have... somewhere..." Dean that's ominous

LMAO ghost hunters

LMAO THEY'RE THE WEBSITE PEOPLE

Oh no

HELP

EMF, BUT

Is. Is this the bit

Ohhh my god thats so funny

HAHAHA

Sam gottim gooooood

Winchester prank war

Oh more stupid young people

This chick is highly likely to die

Chicken feets

Girl noooo

Oh yep there she goes. Hung like a Christmas Ornament

SUICIDE YEAH RIGHT

Oh no

DUMBASS GHOST HUNTERS

HAHAHAHA THEY GOT THE COPS TO CHASE THE GHOST HUNTERS

Where have you seen that symbol Dean. Thats Ominous

DHSGSG DEAN DARING SAM TO TAKE A SWIG OF THE JAR

Djdhdhdh rats

WOOOAH SPIRIT

IMMUNE TO ROCK SALT?

WHAT IS THAT

Oh look its the ghost hunters

That symbol huh...

Dean: I thought the legend said Mordecai only goes after chicks?

Sam: He does.

Dean: Well that explains why he went after you, but why me?

Sam: Hilarious.

Oh? The record shop?

BLUE OYSTER CULT LMAO

Ohhh so it was faked originally lmaooo

Ok, so it was a joke, so where did the haunting come from?

[ Melon says all it takes is a good speaker to make a joke cult turn into a real movement. Crepe says "Megatron". Queen thinks this is hilarious. Who the fuck is Megatron? ]

Dean. Dean what are you doing

Is thay like itch powder

LMAO IT ISN'T IT

Ohh so its some kind of thought monster

Which is why it keeps changing! Ohh that is pretty cool

LMAO THE ITCHING POWDER GOD

Obsessed with this ongoing prank war they're so stupid

Dumbass ghost hunters

"Sex! ...With girls" why are you specifying

What Would Buffy Do

LMAO THEY ARE BAITING THEM WITH INFO

Ohhhh thats so smart

LMAO the weird laughing thing

GLUED HIS HAND

DAMMIT why do their prank wars have to be so funny

WHDHDHSHSHS THEY BROUGHT THE THING WITH THEM???

They are so ready to shoot this thing

What a great fight scene actually

Yeah just set it on fire, thats the best bet

"Of all the things we've hunted, how many of them exist just because people believed in them?" Wow

THEY'RE MAKING A MOVIE/GAME ABOUT IT. THESE GUYS ARE. WOW.

SAM YOU LITTLE SHIT

DEAN YOU'RE ALSO A LITTLE SHIT

Thats so funny though

It is iconic. Fake producer call and a dead fish in the backseat.

-

Ok. Fine. Sam and Dean are funny I love the stupid prank war and their refusal to stop even during an ongoing investigation. This is exactly the dynamic that I enjoy. Goddammit.

VERY interesting concept this episode, and raises some interesting questions about how the supernatural comes to be in this universe.

ANYWAYS I SEE THE NEXT TITLE. I LOVE MACBETH REFERENCES.

[calypso-finale]

Eighty Four.

Stood watching Aziel use the toilet, nothing more makes me annoyed when he tries to be a big boy and thinks he can pee standing up, I have told him off about this many of times and now he is just staring at me as he pees “why you straining?” I questioned “you doing a stink?” he smiled, shaking my head. Rylee went to Hawaii, and I came to the house in LA, I didn’t want to be in Hawaii and also it’s a little awkward because I am actually mad with her, it’s like an unsolved case because I do not understand for the life of me that why was her panties outside the door and Saint keeps saying did we have sex, like you should know if you did or not. It annoys me that the thought of them, that they may have had sex is crazy. So why the fuck was she in my bed, this is why I don’t drink, it’s just stupid games like that. I am not mad but I just think we need that space, so I came here with Aziel, just spending time with him, I am enjoying it “are you done yet?” he is looking everywhere but me “oh you doing stink ain’t you” he covered his face, looking down the hallway laughing “bro” Wadz said “mhmm” moving away from the door “your in laws are here” I pulled a face “in what sense do I have them?” he placed his hand on my shoulder laughing “Chris and Rihanna are here, Rihanna has come with food and they come here for you” letting out an oh “for me, oh my god. Why is she here? She hates me, she is here to just air me out. Fuck” I groaned out “I guess she is here now, bro. Just say I am here with Aziel, be down soon alright?” Wadz nodded his head “thanks, man. I am going to come down in a ski mask” he walked off laughing “yeah well you don’t need to show you, only right but food smells nice as shit” of course he is happy about the food, I sighed out. I remember Rylee saying to her mother to not come and that Oakley will be there and just to stay away, but she knows Rylee is in Hawaii, I wonder why Chris didn’t say no but clearly at times he can’t stop her, I don’t blame him, she is a strong woman and I do not know how he deals with her; Rylee is the light version of her, but Rihanna is a hard woman.

I put my ski mask on and made my way down with Aziel, this child is something else in a positive way. Like I feel as he grows up I can connect with him more, I think as a baby it was a little different but now I just want to do right by him, I love him with my whole heart and for whatever happened and how it happened, I am glad he made me a father and it was him that came into my life. He jumped off the last step “papa!” Aziel shouted and ran to Chris “my big A, look at you” Aziel held his butt “why you holding your butt” Chris asked “he just did a big shit” I said, Chris busted out laughing “oh you making dad work” Chris picked him up and held him close “oh I love you” he said to him “nice to see you in LA” he dapped me “you seen a doctor right? Rylee and her bright ideas” I chuckled “yeah I did, he gave me this shot but I am well, but I thought not to go Hawaii and stay here, spend time with Aziel” when Chris moved to the side the next thing I see is Rihanna, I swallowed hard but only thing she can see is my eyes “hello” I said so formally “hi Oakley, nice to see you up and around and here really” she said “yeah, I mean I didn’t think I would be out here but I am” she smiled at me “I made you food, I hope you like it” looking at my friends “they will, right now I am a little off with food. I live of fruit and oats which are working, I feel ok. Sit down, come in. Wadz you offered drinks, he is my server” Wadz laughed “yeah but this their daughter place they can” side eyeing him “I am joking, you need anything?” Wadz asked “get me a Sprite” Chris said “with ice” Chris laughed “yeah with a little Vodka” I chuckled, walking behind him.

I know Rihanna wants to see me behind the mask but I ain’t doing it “how have you been? Imani wanted to come but I said there can’t be many people here, with the germs and what if she is unwell” nodding my head “oh it’s ok, thanks for coming though. But erm things have been hard I think. Emotionally and mentally. I just I am at a part of my life where I just think whatever, because they want to say I am in remission but then they can’t say I am which to me is annoying but then they say the five year plan remains, medication wise it’s horrible still. But I am a little better than I was, I mean Chris has seen me. I couldn’t even be sat here talking but it’s hard, but I am here” Chris smiled “no way, so remission?” nodding my head “well I can’t call it that, they are seeing me in a month and that is when they will see if it has spread, that is when they can say remission but even then I can get it. They said five years, I have to go through with that, but it’s been a life changer. In many ways, I think Chris has seen things he shouldn’t have” Chris busted out laughing “I said I would help you and I don’t regret a thing, you deserve a life” that is so nice of him “it’s nice to see you here though, like to just be here with Aziel. Seeing how he is with you; he loves you and if anything he is the one that will help through it. Rylee was saying he is starting playschool soon, back home and I said at that point is when they will grow so quick. I can imagine you miss your hair” she said “oh constant cold head, I miss it like crazy. My hair was like the most amazing thing about me but yeah, I guess it’s the new normal” she looked at me in sadness “but the point is you’re here and you can beat this” nodding my head “thank you. Like your family have been very supportive to me, and thank you for letting Chris come to me, those times. Appreciate it” I still have to thank her; she could have kicked off and made his life hell about it.

Rihanna is spending time with Aziel and Chris is talking to Wyge so I am just going to slide in “you creeping in” Chris asked “kind of, just want to speak to you” Wyge chuckled “that is another way of him telling me to fuck off, alright I am going” he said laughing, Chris turned to me “to see you like this, you don’t understand, bro I saw you at the worst moments. Like it got to a point where I was crying, it hurt me. I left being emotional, it’s not nice to see so seeing you like this. Bro you making it, you doing good” I cooed out “thank you, thank you. I am trying, getting there. I think it’s just a slow process and just getting there, like Rylee said I need to eat to build energy and it’s working, I think it’s a good sign that I am more alert. You know I appreciate everything you have done for me” Chris shook his head “I told you, shut up now. Let’s just move, what you want to speak on?” looking around me “private though, you want to smoke?” I asked “bro, you got cancer” I laughed “yeah but like fuck it, it’s you smoking not me bro!” I said to him “you right, come. Let’s go then” following behind Chris, he gives the good advice, I can always talk to him.

Taking my ski mask off as I sat down next to Chris outside “you seem stressed out” I shrugged “I am, it’s like the in between, I don’t have it, then I might. It’s like being on the edge about the cancer and I hate it, just a shit situation and then yeah, I’m trying to be more active with Aziel, but like picking him up, running with him, I can’t do. I can walk but he’s a kid and he wants to run and then my friends chase him, I am trying though. Just one of those things, this cancer will always be there, and I hate it” I mumbled “it will be and I told you that for you move on you need to accept it and live life, to see you smile and be happy is good” he said “then the sadness hits, how long will I have left, would I see him be eighteen, I just have all this worry. I get the waves of sadness, I can’t help but just freeze and stare, stare at what I will be losing or may see; I don’t know” I shrugged “live in the moment, everyone days is numbered so stop it” nodding my head “I just wanted to pull you to aside and get advice because you have been through a lot, you know how I feel, like you will get it and you can give that advice. And in respect that she is your daughter but I need that talk; you understand it” looking at him “her saying she can do better then you” nodding my head “imagine that and Rihanna millions of followers” he laughed “mind you Oakley I’m a nigga that came from nothing, I was just a random guy from VA so when I came into the picture they was calling me broke and ugly, I had a lot of shit you know” we both laughed “I was like dang am I? But then I had girls after me still, so it was like am I ugly or were they hating. But mentally it drained me, to be with Rihanna and then to live with Rihanna and not Robyn I did end up fucking up a lot, I was like yeah fuck this, when she came back from her fast life leaving with me three daughters I fucking went out, I did a lot, I had bitches on me, I loved it. I think what got me is, the same kind of what happened to me Rihanna was making me feel like I wasn’t worthy, like I told her at home you’re Robyn and I am the man, but she didn’t do that, so I fucked up so many times, I kept fucking up too. Like you can see the headlines, but I get how you feel. And I get you want to now show her, she is my daughter, but I also know those words hurt you, those words hurt me still, I still think about it. If you are ever to want to be with her seek therapy” he pointed at me “couple one at that, I had to do it. Feeling not worthy and then even my mother wasn’t wanting me, she fucked me over. I had shit parents; I was failed Oakley this is why I get you. But it’s shit, but if I know how you feeling then I know you going to want to get her back, but she is my daughter, so I hope you don’t” I put my head down.

Chris sighed out “it’s hard because that is my daughter” nodding my head “how do you overcome when someone you love just hits you, tells you that you ain’t good enough and then allowed her mother to make my character shit and got me clowned badly, the stories weren’t cool Chris and it’s just shit. I want to forgive, when I see her doing all these things and helping me I want too, she makes me smile but then I remember how bad she made me look and I thought you know, she loved me. I told her she showed me how to love but love isn’t that! You don’t let the person be dragged like shit, I had to delete posts. She fucking told the world I couldn’t afford the house and the lack of money that did it, she made sure every post was picked on, so I deleted it, she wanted to make sure the story was so believable that even when Rylee admitted to hitting me they still didn’t believe it and they laughed at me, it was degrading and I’m going through chemo? Am I a clown? Then they wonder why I didn’t want to be here; it’s bullshit you know” Chris placed his hand on my back “Robyn she did me dirty too when we was getting a divorce she had me on my ass. She literally closed accounts on me. No money, we had joint accounts, she was preparing for war, she is so lethal, and I can tell you that about her, I promise you she is. Rylee isn’t, she is stupid but not evil” I frowned “Robyn is only good to her own, if she likes you then you’re with her. I think what the issue is that Rylee runs to her mom, and she already has a vendetta against you so it’s the opportunity to do it and then say it’s her team not me, she has done it to me, what she don’t like is that you have a hold on Rylee, and you have a lot of power over her, I see it. I do and it’s not evil, just she is very deeply connected to you, because if I saw it was bad then I would say it. Look my wife, I love her, but I know her. She will do anything to protect her family, and she doesn’t care who she steps on, this is why when I questioned it so said oh it’s not me it’s my team, I’m sorry because look. You have cancer so you don’t deserve this” I shrugged.

Taking in a deep breath “what would you do? I do love Rylee; I do care for her as I want to forgive but I go back to it. How did you move on?” I want to know how he did it “therapy, and really like if we put everything aside, everything that happened between us, we are good. We get on so much, I had to forgive her to move but I also had to see her change and she has, she is home more. I think we discuss a lot of things now, we do argue, it’s natural but the journey you are on is yours. You will know when you are ready to do that, for now be friends have fun, reconnect. There is no strings, you have Aziel and I am sure he enjoys seeing you both be friends. I am not going to push you to forgive her because she is my daughter, that is for you to decide but right now have fun together, but I know it’s hard when you have feelings, you feel the want to forgive that is good, it means that you want her and there is hope there for you both, just not right now. But I understand Oakley, shit even now at times it’s like your wife is a billionaire and beautiful, you are what? But fuck it, it’s whatever” I chuckled “till this day?” I asked “till this day but then I am like yeah whatever I can still pull baddies, but I am a changed man now, I am at peace with me so fuck it. But you just relax and have fun, live life. If Rylee and you are meant to be then you are” looking to where Chris looking, oh his wife “what does she want now, be back” he got up and ran towards her.

Robyn is very annoying to say the least, because why the fuck is she talking about emergency and rushing me home “that is rude you know? I was talking to Oakley” parking outside the house “yeah” she is too busy on the phone, getting out of the car. Robyn wanted to come back and for what, locking my car door as I made my way into the house “yeah it’s done” rolling my eyes, I could go back later anyways but that was very rude to just want to leave, we barely stayed, I didn’t get to hang with Aziel “Ok, you going to tell what happened” Robyn got off the phone “I needed to take the heat off Rylee” I laughed “huh” I am so confused “Rylee, what you mean?” rubbing the back of my head “Chris you’re probably going to hate me and probably think I did wrong but I needed to take the heat off Rylee, like a counter story. So my team contacted me, and I told Rylee, and she said mom help, get rid of it and I can’t” I already feel stressed “get to the point, what did you do?” she isn’t getting to the point “the after party, Rylee was drunk. There is leaked elevator video of Saint and her making out and then just falling out of the elevator when the doors open, then she got up and went to the room, they was drunk but it’s too late, it’s going to leak so I may have threw Oakley under the bus first since he’s been hiding” I frowned “I told them that he took my daughter virginity underage and gave the information to my team and which then takes the heat off them two a little” my mouth hung open “are you joking right? This is a joke yeah” I don’t believe her “Rylee is the priority, it’s life” I balled my fist up “you stupid bitch he has cancer and your doing this shit! It’s not your fucking game, you didn’t!?” Junior made his way over “it’s happened” this is a joke “I beg you, please tell me this is a joke” I pleaded “I told Rylee to stay in Hawaii, but you need to tell him to go back and get Aziel. Rylee doesn’t agree with it either, but she wants to take the heat off her, so now she is crying saying it’s done. You are all ungrateful to say the least” I am shocked “when it comes to my kids no person or man will come above” I am actually in shock “you did that?” I asked, “you fucking did that to someone that is battling cancer!” I shouted at her “you stupid bitch, you fucking idiot. You fucking fix it right now, you tell that fucking team to stop! You tell that bitch daughter of yours to shut up crying and fix her own shit, you idiot!” I am trying to keep my cool “that is someone’s life!” this is bad, bad “Robyn, I am not playing with you. Whatever blog you got to post it. I know they haven’t done it yet, you stop it right now or I am leaving you, I am telling you now our marriage will be on the line, you chose Rylee or this marriage! Fucking do it!” Junior started crying “stop it now!” she got her phone out “you think I would agree to this? That I am like you!?” that is terrible what she is doing “it’s not too late, because he would have called me by now” this is bad, why can’t my wife be normal and not like her mother.

[mayhemlovesenvy]

Curious since you ship both of them: which pair do you prefer, Owed or Oweddy?

This turned ranty, more under the cut LOL

Owed!

Ofc the vision in my head, I don't have anything else to enjoy from them since no one else makes content lol, but that just means I did whatever I want with them and thus they're like . Totally what I love in ships. They can be doomed they can be toxic they can be silly! They are in love! Obsessed with each other! Their souls intertwined! Babies

Ofc I do like Oweddy, but recently (as in months and months) I've been feeling let down by it. The blorbos in my mind are great and I love them! But I quickly noticed that my headcannons for them were *too* different from the most popular, bigger, more social Oweddy shippers. And in trying to befriend them I tried to conform to their ideas and hcs and it just made me have a bad time, until I realized there was simply no way I could have both cakes and eat them

I'm sure part of it was problems external to just ships (but how come I feel alienated in a group of alienated ppl? Huh??). But being made fun of for liking Owed in a OWEDDY server (close to my birthday which was very shitty) made me realize "why do I want to be liked by these people who I don't even like?"

I just wanted to have some Owed crumbs for my brithday?? Just, yk, a sketch?? A happy birthday message at least??? What the fuck 💔

Also fuck yoi to the people who say "i don't like the ship but _" just say the nice thing you'll say or skip 😭😭😭 it's like the "your oc looks like X" . Judt say the nice thing djksmskslalfmclmv

Apparently I still feel hurt by it, 'cause I wanna cry rn HELP

But yes, in general, the people who I felt offended by the most were Oweddy shippers, who soured the ship for me a lot. So yeah I like them! Fuck everyone else who draws them, tho

So every now and then I have this dislike for them- when I remember all that. But i DO love them, and I won't let a bunch of weird people ruin my fun, it's just a game of patience. I learnt my lesson of creating what I want to see pretty early in my life, I just have to remember it (that's why I'm insane about Vincent too ha). But I'm also insane, and what I want to create needs a lot of time in the oven

I'm being too much of a complainer rn but that's bc this is something I can't let out of my chest freely(?)

But yeah too much, I'm sorry ahhahahah

But I will have both cakes, fuck the people 🫵

My "I feel *too* weird even around weird people" Is my vision for the Owed anyways, they're just a bit *too* fucked up, and somehow get incredibly bullied by it, but they have eachother to be their selves with <3 and then they get worse , and then they realize they were the only ones who understoof each other, and then they find themselves together again, and now they're a little less stupid, and can kiss and solve problems w/o one of them being stabbed!

[btscontentenjoyer]

This chapter was soooo much fun to read, I really had a blast. And that ending has me both nervous and excited to read the next chapter.

"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." Damn, I feel just like OC must feel, because I was completely fooled lmaoo.

"A muscle in her jaw twitches as she blinks back at you. “I would certainly never say anything of the sort. If something was unclear, I'm happy to get a translator on the phone. It might make things easier for you to understand?” 😐😐😐😐 I always wonder how people like that don't know that shutting the fuck up is free and they should do it more often.

"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." Ah, can't say I didn't predict this, but I also can't say I'm happy that I'm right. It's such a common defense mechanism to revert to anger when we feel hurt, and especially when we're not ready to face the reasons why we feel hurt. I feel like that's what's frustrating OC the most and why she's taking it out on Yoongi specifically, not only because he's the one in the room with her. Feelings are scary and complicated and frustrating, man.

"It doesn’t make sense to you how he can somehow manage to be too distant and too close at the same time." 😔😔😔

“Wow, glasses? Really?” I feel extremely called out, but I mean, it's specifically Yoongi in glasses that's the problem, okay.

"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.” He lives to see her suffer, huh. Although I feel bad for poor OC, I can't say it's not entertaining lmao.

“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.” If he won't say it outright, then I will. I'm extremely proud of OC for becoming so capable at a job where everything was completely new to her. And for not giving up despite her embarrassing mistakes and a certain mean colleague, who's recently become less mean. It really takes a lot to keep going and become so good at your job in this kind of situation and yet she did it!

"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." Aaaaw our best boy 🥺🥺🥺 I'm glad to see OC thinking of him and I hope they can work things out and be able to get along well again because I love both of them.

“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?” M, you really manage to create such fun side characters, even when they only appear for a chapter or two!

“Oh my god,” she immediately interrupts you. “You’re sleeping with him.” Lmaoooooo I snorted at this, she's amazing.

“Damn, Vernon with the deep cut,” Matthew remarks, and you shake your head." I'm seriously really enjoying all of these characters.

"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.” Tiffany should meet Jimin since they both have this sixth sense for fanfic tropes.

“If I was the one nominated for a Grammy, I’d make you take the couch,” Vernon scoffs around a piece of edamame." Lmaooo, I have literally not stopped laughing and smiling this whole time fr.

"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." I love love love seeing these more introspective thoughts about OC's feelings and fears.

"You can’t help but laugh. “It’s cool. You remind me of my best friend.” Me and OC are really on the same wavelength today huh.

"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.” She's speaking only facts and she has the same moon sign as me??? No wonder why I love her.

"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?” I find all of OC's lines in this conversation extremely endearing actually. It is hard to say what you want, especially when you're not sure what it might lead to.

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

"What else would he be nervous about?" Oh shit, I didn't think of that 😳😳😳 Thinking about Yoongi making sure OC's not uncomfortable with him sleeping on the bed and worrying about the way their relationship is progressing makes me melt.

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

"The furthest thing from hatred— and isn’t that what this is supposed to be?" They are definitely waaaay past that.

“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.” I just- this man- he has proven it before, and is proving it once again, that he can be a menace while still half-asleep or completely exhausted. And that is just as scary as it is hot.

"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." !!!!!

Morning sex is a whole 'nother level of intimate, no matter how feral it is, and I am here for it!

“If you keep fucking talking in my ear with your morning voice like that—” So very brave of OC to say that when he uses every piece of information like that to be an even bigger menace.

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

“That fucking mouth did,” I love that lmaooo, the power of having good head game.

"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." Okaaaay, we're getting somewhere.

“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.” Hell yeah! Although I have a feeling he won't win and I'm hoping I'm not right this time 😔😔😔

"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.” Damn straight. Good to know she has her priorities sorted.

"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." I truly love all of these little moments between them we're getting this chapter 🥺🥺🥺

"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." Yoongi being nervous and looking for comfort in OC has me 🥺🥺🥺🥺

"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." 😔😔😔 It does not feel good to be right. But at least they can attend as an actual couple when he wins one next year 😏😏😏

“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.” Damn, how can you be an asshole on so many levels, dude.

"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." Poor Yoongi man, nobody deserves to be treated like this, and yet it happens all the fucking time. And the person who's a victim of all of that bullshit always has to be the bigger person and walk away or they'll just make it worse for themselves. It makes me so pissed off too.

“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.” Cuteee

“What?” he retorts, like he hasn’t said anything shocking. “He’d be good for you.” So he's going the route of caring for a person a lot, but also having a very low opinion of yourself, and therefore thinking that they'd be better off with someone else. A very painful one, indeed.

“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.” Ah, I forgot about that, another thing that explains so much about how she's so hesitant to do anything with Yoongi that is remotely different from hate.

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

“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.” 🥺🥺🥺

"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." Damn, this is a very very fun scene to read.

“In love with you.” Oh my fucking god, the way I gasped out loud after reading this!!! YOONGIIII!!!

"In the bathroom, you stand over the sink as you lend Yoongi your makeup remover and you both brush your teeth." So domestic, oh my god.

"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." Punching my pillow and kicking my blanket as we speak. I was not prepared for these kinds of feelings and now I'm overwhelmed. All I can say is that I love them.

“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.” Jimin is just what I needed right now too, it seems.

"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." Whew, I don't know if I'm ready for this next chapter 🥺🥺🥺

Damn, that was one hell of an ending to one hell of a chapter. I really did have a lot of fun with it though. I actually really loved OC in this chapter. Something about her just really stood out to me this time and as I said earlier, I found her endearing and cute. I also feel like we got an even bigger glimpse at her innermost thoughts. I felt like I could really understand where she was coming from and that might have something to do with her starting to come to terms with some of her feelings as well.

No matter how hard I can tell it's going to be, I really am looking forward to the next two parts, so that Yoongi and OC can finally be able to admit some things to each other and to themselves. Even if they have to go through some angst, it will all be worth it in the end if they feel more free to express what they really want.

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!!! serious warning that this chapter does contain a few instances of racism directed at reader/yoongi (being denied customer service, implying they need a translator, and comments insinuating yoongi is psy/bong joon-ho. pls proceed with caution and take care of yourselves 💜) 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?? 💜

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 apologize, but due to the volume of bookings, our prioritization for room distribution is based on attending to the needs of our highest priority clients.”

Your jetlag-addled brain can’t keep up with the corporate talk. “And who are your highest priority clients?”

The smile on her face doesn’t falter. “As I'm sure you can imagine, we have quite a wealth of…” she pauses, as if choosing her next words carefully. “Local talent booking with us for the weekend.”

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your forehead. “I'm sorry, you’re saying you can’t fix the mistake you made because we’re not from here?!”

A muscle in her jaw twitches as she blinks back at you. “I would certainly never say anything of the sort. If something was unclear, I'm happy to get a translator on the phone. It might make things easier for you to understand?”

“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.

You’re so hot with rage 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 angrily 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.

“I can't believe you let her get away with that shit. She was being fucking racist, Yoongi.”

“Yeah,” he sighs wearily, eyes fixed on the overhead number as it counts up to your floor. “I know she was. I've traveled overseas a lot more than you have.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“It means,” Yoongi grunts as the doors slide open with a soft chime, “I've learned to pick my battles.”

You storm after him down the hall to your room, and 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 fucking racist—”

“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 white men you can only assume to be American 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.

“Don’t tell me— oppa gangnam style, right?” The man talking does his best approximation of Psy’s dance, and you consider crawling under the nearest table.

“Nah, come on, he’s obviously the one who did Parasite,” another guy laughs.

Yoongi grimaces politely into his drink as he throws it back, but you can’t seem to find your manners. “Oh good job, Yoongi, I see you found the fucking racists.” You don’t miss the smirk he tries to conceal.

There’s a loud reaction from all of the white men, who clearly seem more entertained than hurt by your dig. “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 💜💜💜

[faye-the-traitor]

Hi! Just wanted to ask if requests are open could you make a one shot similar to the one shot with Monty that has an s/o that cries when she gets mad except make it glamrock freddy and a fem reader?

Even Superstars Cry (Glamrock Freddy x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Thank you for the request, I originally was deciding to make this a Monty fanpage but my overwhelming adoration for Papa Bear makes it a little hard to say no to a Freddy x Reader

Summary: You got a little overwhelmed with some of the guests and Freddy doesn't like seeing you cry.

Warnings: Its just painfully fluffy Freddy and foul language

Word Count: 1122

~

The day was kinda rough for you already. Nothing you couldn't handle but nonetheless you had been a little stressed out with the amount of birthdays that had been all planned for today. You were the lead associate on shift with the other servers but today people had decided to call in due to the amount of birthdays that were happening which meant it was you and only 4 other girls to take care of the screaming children and their families.

"I've got the 3 large Pepperoni Pizzas, and 4 Large Cheese. All the kiddie cups have been filled with Monty's Mystery Mix and I have drinks for you adults as well." You were in rush mode, about to just completely remove you apron due to the constrictive feeling it had been giving you while you sprinted around the table and giving everyone their drinks.

"And for you, I have a large Pepsi soft of the ice." You let out a soft sigh and forced a smile to offer the rather large man in front of you. You placed his drink on the table and looked up for a split second to see Freddy doing his thing. He looked at you, offering the cutest wink and a sweet smile that pulled a real one from you.

"My name is Y/N and I do hope you enjoy. Please give me a h-"

"ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?" You had been cut off by the man who you had just helped. Your smile fell and shock painted your features.

"THIS ISN'T PEPSI YOU STUPID BITCH!" He yelled again, standing up so quickly he pushed the table away from him. He was definitely taller than you and that was enough to worry you, fearing he may hurt you.

"S-Sir I apologize b-but..."

"NO! You're the worst fucking server I've ever had the displeasure of being served by. How do you fuck up a drink order, you idiot!" He yelled again, making you flinch and step away. His wife reached for him, trying to calm him down. After all it was just a drink.

"I'm sick of you fucking girls here. No wonder you work such a low job. You're all too stupid to get a better one." Tears welled up in your eyes.

You thought you had been doing well considering you didn't have the adequate staffing for the day but apparently not. It was silly to cry over a guest being rude but you couldn't help it. It was too much for you and you took off. As you passed the stage, heading for the staff rooms you had untied your apron and threw it onto the ground, wiping at your eyes as you cried.

Freddy noticed you run off and in the middle of performing he stopped, running off the stage and picking up your lost apron and the items that spilled out from the pockets. Without another thought he ran after you, trying desperately not to lose you in the crowd. He slowly stepped into the staff room, the dark tunnel seeming as if it went on forever. He could hear your sniffling but he couldn't see you.

"Y/n? Where are you honey bun?" he called, listening to see if he could play hot and cold with the sound of you crying.

"Please go away Freddy..." You whined and he peeked around the corner of a rather large crate that you had curled up behind, hugging your knees as you cried. His heart sank and he dropped your apron, sitting next to you and pulling you into his lap without a second thought.

"Honey bun...Tell me what happened." He nudged, using his thumb to gently rub your back. His free hand gently pulled your hands away from you face and he wiped you tears away and you shook you head 'no' in response to his question.

"No. It's stupid. I'm just a baby. Im a stupid, pathetic little baby who can't handle her feelings getting hurt." You began to cry harder, you brows knitting together as tears connected under your chin and dripped onto your shirt.

"No! No you aren't!" Freddy had the most hurt look in his eyes. He hated when you talked so bad about yourself, and not to mention it hurt him to watch you cry.

"You're a superstar! You've been doing so good taking care of guests today. You've done so well and you've been such a wonderful help." He complimented, hoping it helped but it didn't.

"Freddy I messed up a simple drink order! And I cried when that man yelled at me! I'm no superstar, I'm just a big cry baby." You looked away, wiping at your eyes but Freddy tucked a finger under your chin and made you look back at him, refusing to speak until you made eye contact.

"Even Superstars Cry, Honey Bun. I don't care what that man said to you, he's wrong. You're wonderful, sweet, and not to mention you're the prettiest girl out there." He rubbed his nose against yours and began to very lightly tickle you in a last ditch effort to get you to smile and you did. You squealed and kicked, giggling as you gripped his large hands and did everything you could to make him stop.

"There's that beautiful smile." He hummed and pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of you head as he let you cuddle into his chest.

"If anyone gives you a hard time about crying, just remember what I told you. It's okay to cry and I will always be here for you when you need it. Please never be afraid to let me help. I adore you and will be here, as long as you let me." His hand went back to rubbing you back and you nodded, your thumb lightly running across the cool metal of his arm.

"Thank you Freddy..." You whispered, already feeling so much better than you had mere moments ago when you were curled up here by yourself in the dark.

Freddy was a little too good at making a dark, cold, and dreary place feel warm and happy. Not a day went by that he didn't do his best at making sure you kept that smile on your face. Not to mention the fact that he loved hearing you laugh and he did his best to make sure you laughed every second you were here at the Pizza Plex.

"Never forget Y/N..." He pulled you away from his chest and looked you in the eyes. "You are my Superstar." He grinned, placing a soft and very warm kiss on your forehead.

"And you're mine Freddy...You always will be."

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[jadequeen88]

Incel Tomura

I couldn’t think of a good title for this, so... I just went with something real blunt. Anyway, this was inspired by a friend and how she actually met her IRL boyfriend.

PAIRING: Incel!Shigaraki x egirl!reader

TW: face sitting, degradation, mommy kink, reader basically bullying Tomura (he deserves it)

3.2k~

AS ALWAYS MY FICS ARE STRICTLY 18+

“TCH!”

Tomura scoffed at the screen of his laptop. The Discord server he helped admin had gone to shit since he let that idiot Dabi loosen the requirements to join. It was one thing when Toga joined. He knew she was a decent gamer. But you? With those stereotypical cat-ear headsets, perfectly done make-up and short skirts? Please… He saw right through you. Just another fake ~uwu~ e-girl trying to pretend they knew what they were talking about.

It didn’t end with you being annoyingly informed in the gaming chat, either. You were always in the anime and manga chats, too… Suggesting different ones that there’s no way you actually enjoyed.

But the WORST part of you being in the server? Spamming the picture chat with selfies and outfit pics. No, it wasn’t against the guidelines and yes, you got lots of compliments (of course, you were clearly hot), but it made Tomura livid. Where there used to be pics of half-built PCs and screenshots of character upgrades, now there were endless pictures meant to tease and bait the guys in the server.

Today’s picture is what sent him completely over the edge. Your hair was put up in two messy space buns, signature pink cat-eared headset perched on your head. Your black, mesh top was straining against your tight, hot pink bra, barely hiding your cleavage and your slender neck was adorned with a chunky, black collar with a large, silver ring hanging from the front. The icing on the cake, though… the thing that broke him, was the face you were making. Eyes crossed, little pink tongue lolling past your perfect hot-pink lips, it was an obvious ahegao face. The caption read:

“New collar! Thank you for da gift @XxXknifey_wifeyXxX”

Followed by a bunch of annoying ass emojis.

Tomura shifted in his gaming chair, his growing bulge making his sweats tight. He gritted his teeth and opened his DMs…

******

You snickered as you opened your text chat with Dabi. Poor Tomura… He had no clue his friend was an old high school buddy of yours and sent screenshots every single time he bitched about your presence on the server. At first, it was just a couple of snide comments, but you quickly decided to turn it into a game. You’d add more emojis than you normally would, flirt shamelessly with Toga in the chat, and be very vocal with your opinions. Then it progressed with more and more selfies, pics showing off your new skirts, and pics of your pink, girly gaming setup. Today you pushed it with the ahegao face, you’ll admit. It was pretty out of character for you, but you couldn’t wait to hear about Tomura’s reaction from Dabi.

It was everything you hoped it would be:

Decay_666_

So can we give those bitches their own chat or what? Seriously, I’m sick of seeing their shit everywhere. Did you see her ahegao face selfie? This server was supposed to be for ACTUAL gamers, not fake e-girl sluts spamming the chat with their bullshit…

Cremation_Daddy

Lol, damn dude, calm down… we can make a separate chat. You’re the only one on the server complaining. Y/N really fucking you up that bad?

Decay_666_

Oh, fuck off… she’s just being an attention whore and it’s getting on my nerves.

Cremation_Daddy

Yeah, whatever you say. Prolly jerkin it to that selfie right now

You didn’t know why, but you kinda had a crush on the skinny loser. Knowing how worked up he’d get over the smallest things you did thrilled you. You wanted to know just how badly you affected him and today was the day you’d find out.

*****

Tomura heard a ping from his monitor alerting him to a new DM. expecting it to be Dabi giving him more shit, he scowled and clicked over to his Discord tab. When he saw that it was you DMing him, it was like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over his head. He could barely type he was so nervous.

Y/N

Hey :)

Decay_666_

Hi

Y/N

How did you like my new collar?

Tomura panicked. Had Dabi said something? There’s no way he’d do that. How did he even respond to that? He decided to feign ignorance.

Decay_666_

What collar?

Y/N

*image*

He audibly gasped. You sent him the selfie you’d posted in the chat earlier. Somehow, it was even hotter than the first time he’d seen it. Probably because you had sent it to him. You wanted to make sure he saw it. The thought alone made him painfully hard. He typed out a shaky response:

Decay_666_

Yeah… you look really pretty :)

He grimaced. He couldn’t think of anything clever when he was put on the spot like that. Plus, how long had it been since he’d spoken to a girl one on one? Much less a hot one? Never. That’s when.

Y/N

Aww, you’re so sweet :) wanna see it in person?

Now Tomura was wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven. Did she want to meet up? Wearing that fucking collar? There’s no way… He stared at the screen for a good ten minutes before another ping brought him back to reality.

Y/N

I’m free now if you are. Plus, there’s a new episode of *insert favorite anime* out and I didn’t wanna watch it alone.

Decay_666_

Yeah. Sure.

His response was almost uninterested but inside he was panicking. When was the last time he showered? How much time did he have to get ready? Did he even have any clean clothes? He leaped from his chair and ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Another ping rang out and he raced to check his DMs to see that you’d sent your address. To his surprise, you only lived a short walk from him. Another jolt of excitement shot through his spine as he quickly responded.

Decay_666_

Be over in 30 :)

He turned on the shower then started picking through his pile of clothes finding the ones that smelled the least offensive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous and excited at the same time.

*****

 Tomura shifted from one foot to the other, nervously scratching at the side of his neck. He caught himself before the skin there broke and he ended up having to deal with a bloody neck on top of already being a nervous wreck. He’d only been standing outside your apartment for a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity. He kept checking his phone to distract himself. Just as he was starting to question if this had been a good idea, the door flung open.

His eyes widened and his mouth turned into a thin line. You answered the door in a fucking towel. He began opening and closing his mouth like a fish that had been plucked from the water. You giggled innocently like it was perfectly normal to answer the door nearly naked.

“You’re here a little earlier than I expected! I just got out of the shower. Come on in,” you moved to the side to give him room to walk through the door into your small apartment. You were sure to not move completely out of the way so he’d have to almost brush against your chest. You could feel him stiffen and hold his breath as he passed by.

This was going to be so much fun…

*****

Tomura’s dick had been painfully hard the moment he’d seen you in that towel. Luckily, when you’d gone into your bedroom to get dressed, he was able to position it in his waistband so he wouldn’t be pitching a tent in front of you. The thought of you noticing him popping a boner just by looking at you in a towel was mortifying. 

However, what you decided to change into didn’t help his situation. Your baby pink terry cloth shorts would have shown the curve of your ass had it not been for the little row of ruffles around the bottom. Your tank top, the same baby pink color as your shorts, was pulled tight across your chest (holy shit, were you not wearing a bra?!). A fleeting glance at your chest proved to Tomura that you definitely were not wearing a bra.

“You can come on back,” you beckoned from the doorway of your bedroom, “I thought we’d be more comfortable in here…”

He gulped and rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans before nodding and rising to walk towards you. Your room was foreign to him. Decorated with all shades of pink and purple, soft, plush bedding, and a soft pink glow emanated from the LED strip lights that lined the walls. Tomura stood awkwardly, looking around for a chair to sit in when you flopped onto your bed and began pulling up the streaming app on your tv. 

You looked up at him sweetly and patted the spot on the plush comforter next to you. “Come sit, Tomu! You don’t have to stand way over there. I don’t stink, ya know,” the wink you gave him made his knees buckle.

“Umm,” he chuckled nervously, “No, of course not. You, uhh… you smell…”

No, you were way too close. This was bad. There’s no way he would be able to string together a coherent thought, much less hold an actual conversation with you. You pout and lean in even closer to him.

“Tomuuuuu!” fuck, he hated that he loved that stupid nickname, “You think I smell?!”

“What?! N-no, not at all. I was trying to say that-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you tilted your head to the side offering up your neck for him to smell and he swears his eyes crossed as he tried to absorb what was happening.

“I even wore my new perfume! Go on, smell. Tell me what you think,” you smirk looking out of the corner of your eye.

Fuck.

You were teasing him, he knew you were, but his dick was so hard that he was completely at your mercy. He leaned in to take a tentative sniff and his eyes wandered lower. His breath hitched when he noticed the outline of your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material of your tank top. Before he knew what was happening, you turned your face forward and put your mouth next to his ear.

“Are you looking down my shirt, you pervert?” you purred. Tomura made some sort of incoherent noise and pulled away.

You laughed and pushed his shoulder playfully, “Geeze, I’m just kidding! You’re wound so tight.” you pause making a thoughtful face.

“Oh, I know how to help! Come on, over here,” you pulled him between your spread thighs and proceeded to rub his shoulders, working out all of the knots in his lean back.

After a few seconds, Tomura began to relax into your touch, slumping slightly and letting out a tiny sigh. He was deathly still the entire time you massaged him. He was terrified if he moved too much that his raging boner would free itself from his waistband. When your hands left his shoulders, he started to move away just to be pulled back into your lap. His head landed in your cleavage as your hands trailed down his chest. 

“Hmm, so tense, Tomu,” you whispered into the crown of his hair, “Is my massage not working?”

He wanted to yell that of course he was tensed up. That his dick is the hardest it’s ever been in his life and if he doesn’t hold as still as possible, he’s scared he might start humping the air like a pathetic dog. Before he can answer, your hand trails down to the waistband of his jeans, and he freezes. The tips of your fingers brush across his leaking tip and Tomura lets out a low, needy moan before he can stop himself.

“Just what I thought,” you purred as you began to trail your fingers up and down the hard bulge in his jeans, “Pathetic. Look at you, so fucking hard for me. And all I did was rub your shoulders.” He wanted to defend himself, but all he could do was whine as his eyes rolled in the back of his head while you continued touching him through his jeans.

“And to think, I never thought you’d want anything to do with some fake bimbo like me. Because I only game and watch anime for attention, right?” you squeeze his cock through his jeans, causing him to yelp. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself, incel? Wanna tell me why your dick is this hard for me if I’m so annoying to you?”

The realization that Dabi had told you everything flitted through the back of his mind, but he didn’t have room in his brain right then to be mad at him. He had to do whatever he needed to do to keep you touching him.

“I, ahh... I’m s-sorry,” he stuttered pathetically. The front of his jeans was wet from your teasing and the denim was rubbing him raw through his thin boxers, “D-didn’t, fuck, didn’t mean it like… ahh, l-like th-that.”

You loved how easily you could wreck him. You pet his hair back from his sweaty brow as you cooed at him lovingly.

“You know,” you removed your hand from the front of his jeans and he whined from the lack of friction, “You really hurt my feelings, baby. I thought you were so cool and the whole time, behind my back, you said just mean things about me.”

He sat up and turned to face you. His pathetic, needy gaze shot straight to your core. The power you held made you drunk and you desperately wanted more.

“No, no no no…” he grabbed your hands and you realized how clammy they were, “I’m-I’m so sorry. Please! Please…”

“Hmm,” you studied him for a moment, “Well… There might be a way you could make me feel a little better.” you tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, “You were so mean to me.”

“Anything! Please! I-I’ll do anything for you!” desperation started creeping in, thinking you’d leave him hanging with no relief. Little did he know, you had no intention of letting him go any time soon. Your plush lips curled into a devious smile. A soft hand reached up cupping his jaw.

“What a good boy, Tomu,” a tremor passed through his body. You reached over to your nightstand and pulled out the collar you’d taken the selfie in. 

“You know,” the collar danced between your painted nails, “This also came with a leash. I was thinking,” your lust-filled eyes meet his, “If you wanted to be a good boy for me… You’d let me see how pretty it looks around your neck.”

Tomura hesitated, his eyes rapidly moving between your eyes and the collar you held. After a moment of consideration, he nodded. You giggled and clapped your hands together excitedly leaping off the bed. You returned with a short, chain-link leash.

“Now,” you leaned in and fastened the collar around his neck. Your bodies were centimeters apart and Tomura thought he might pass out, “When you’re wearing your collar, you don’t call me Y/N,” you nudge his ear with your nose and whisper, “You call me ‘Mommy.’ Do you understand?” you feel him nod against your face.

“That’s not how good boys answer their Mommy. When you answer me, you say, ‘Yes Mommy’ or ‘No Mommy.’ Is that clear?”

“Y-yes… Mommy.”

“Mmm, what a good boy,” you placed a soft kiss on his neck and he let out the most delicious whimper. You hooked a finger through the ring on the front of the collar, “You’re gonna go sit in Mommy’s gaming chair and let her use you as a toy. Okay?” 

Tomura’s head was spinning and he almost couldn’t answer until you jerked him by his collar, “Y-yes, Mommy. Please, please make me your toy.”

You stood and dragged him over to your chair and made him sit, “What a polite boy you are! Saying ‘please’ without being asked. If you keep that up, you just might get a reward,” his belt buckle rattled as you worked his jeans down his narrow hips. 

A ragged breath escaped his chapped lips as you removed your tiny shorts revealing a black, lace thong. You straddled his lap, your dripping slit hovering a centimeter over the angry, leaking head of his cock. His hands shook as you placed them on your hips and slowly moved your thong to the side. Descending an inch at a time, only teasing his tip, was causing him to come undone underneath you.

“You’re already so close and I’ve only put the tip in. You better be a good boy and not come until I tell you to or you’re going to be punished,” you pushed another couple of inches inside and he nearly wept.

“I-I’m trying, M-mommy! I wanna be a good boy!”

“Mmm, I know, baby. You’re doing so,” another inch, “So…” and another, “Well.” you were fully seated on his cock now. Tomura knew he wouldn’t last. Your velvet walls were sucking him down harder than anything ever had before. It made his fleshlight feel like it was made of sandpaper. You had ruined him for anything else. 

With a few rolls of your hips and some high, airy moans, he was about to bust. “Mommy! Mommy, please! I-I’m g-gonna…”

“Tomu,” your voice was authoritative now, “If you come in Mommy’s pussy, I’m going to make you clean it out with your tongue then I’m going to sit on your face until I come as many times as I want.” your hand wrapped around his throat and you started bouncing on his cock. Your filthy words and aggressive motions catapulted him into an orgasm.

“You bad, BAD boy,” a smack to his cheek broke off his moans, “You disobeyed me! Did you do that on purpose?” your hand around his neck flexes, “Are you just a dirty incel that wants Mommy to get mean with you? Answer, Tomu!”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“Tell Mommy what you are…”

“I-I’m a-a… dirty incel.”

“And what do you want?”

“W-want… want Mommy to b-be mean to me…”

You lift him by the collar and attach the leash. He’s thrown onto the bed and you waste no time hovering your dripping slit over his face.

“Now,” you jerk the leash, “Clean up your mess.”

Tomura knew he should be disgusted right now, but his dick was getting harder by the second. With each lick inside your sloppy hole, he shamelessly moaned against your skin. The vibrations were going straight to your clit, causing you to ride his face harder. This went on until you’d almost reached your peak.

“Oh, baby,” you’re making Mommy feel so, so good, “I-I’m gonna…”

Tomura grabbed your ass and moved you back and forth on his face as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Your orgasm hit hard and fast. You lifted your body giving him a moment to breathe before sitting back down, earning a startled mumble from him.

“Don’t think that’s all,” you laughed and humped his face, making his eyes roll into the back of his head, “Be a good boy and mommy might even let you come…”

Tomura only nodded as he began to eat you again like he was starved. Maybe all the stuff you posted in the Discord server wasn’t so annoying anymore...

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑫𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒈 (𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒐𝒐𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊/𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏!𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘 × 𝙴𝚡𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝙳𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎) × 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊/𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏! 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝙰𝚄, 𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏 𝙰𝚄

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙾𝚗 𝚊 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚗, 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊𝚗 𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚛.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟻.𝟹+𝙺

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝙻𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚐𝚊𝚙 (𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜), 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚎𝚡𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 (𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐), 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗) 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚈𝚞𝚗𝚑𝚘, 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐, 𝚂𝚞𝚋! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @galaxteez @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @brie02 @rvse-miingi @couchpotatoaniki @deja-vux @a-soft-hornytiny @daniblogs164

♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡

"Anything else we can get for our most valued regulars?"

The two men waved their hands dismissively at the friendly and energetic owner of the establishment, thanking her for the drinks that were already provided while assuring her they were perfectly content.

"Well if you shall need anything don't hesitate to ask." She reminded them before walking away to attend the other customers and see that everything in the club was running smoothly.

The two men held up their drinks and clinked them against each other before downing them as if it was mere water. Slumping back into the comfortable french style chaise lounge sofa, the shorter mafioso let out a soft and relaxed exhale of breath.

"Well I'd say the whole operation was an absolute success. Don't you agree Yunho?" He tilted his head towards the more impotent one of them, the male swirling the contents of his newly poured drink around his glass cup.

"Indeed. Well done Wooyoung." He raised his glass towards his friend in acknowledgement before bringing the rim of the cup up to his lips.

The two men briefly scanned the spacious hall, occasionally waving or even winking at the more familiar faces that they had become very much acquainted with, sometimes even on a more intimate level that remained a naughty secret between them. Being admirers of beauty and anything aesthetically appealing, they of course had their gazes on the stage that encompassed the majority of the room. Their eyes never failed to take in the gorgeous dancers that were currently moving their bodies to the music playing in the background, some of them showcasing their more erotic side through spins and turns on some of the poles that were placed at various corners of the stage. That sight was always a welcoming one by all the men who went inside the high class club.

"Damn. Who is that?" Wooyoung pointed in the direction of a certain dancer who had caught his attention.

Following his finger, Yunho widened his eyes when he saw who it was that Wooyoung had spotted. She was indeed very captivating. Her movements were very sensual and completely fluid, it was more than obvious her technique was precise. Even her hair seemed to dance along with her body. She'd effortlessly spin around the metal pole as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her. Although she was placed towards the back, she seemed to dominate the stage alone with her presence. She just exuded charisma and eroticism that no doubt had many of the males growing a little problem in their pants thanks to her, Wooyoung and Yunho being no exception. They became lost in the beautiful and fascinating female, falling her charms as if her dance hypnotized them.

It was Yunho who snapped himself out of it when he took a closer look at her face and felt like something was off.

"How old is she? She looks a little... too young." Despite having been involved in the criminal world for years, having seen and committed many illegal acts, Yunho was not tolerant of anything that involved the exploitation of individuals who were too young for such a life.

Realizing he was right, Wooyoung shifted uncomfortably in his seat and cleared his throat. Calling over one of the male waiters, Yunho had to inquire about her.

"What can you tell me about the pretty face right over there?"

Seeing who he was referring to, the male server chuckled.

"Oh. That's Y/N. She's new here, started a few weeks ago but she's already conquered a lot of admirers as you can tell."

Indeed, as they looked around, most men had their eyes trained on her, no doubt imagining what she'd look like if you removed the lace bustier top and butt hugging leather shorts.

"How old is she?" Yunho got to the point.

Understanding what he meant, the server quickly dismissed his fears.

"I don't know exactly but I know for sure she's very much an adult. I'd say very early 20's, although I get that with that innocent looking baby face many wouldn't believe it. Folks seem to dig that though. Angelic face, sinful body? No wonder men are lusting over her."

Glancing over at their respective friend, the two men shared a small smirk between each other before settling back down to continue admiring the pretty girl.

"If you bosses would like, we could arrange a private show with her for you." The male staff offered but Wooyoung shook his head.

"No no, I don't think that will be necessary."

But he found that his resolve would soon come crumbling down when the young female took notice of their gawking towards her. Although she had never seen them before, she enjoyed the way their eyes were raking her body. She made sure not to break eye contact with them as she performed her next set of moves, which became a lot more sultry and risque in nature. She purposefully bent down or over more so her ass and tits would be the main focus of their staring.

"Fuck. I'd love to bend that ass over my lap." Yunho bit down on his bottom lip as one hand slowly rubbed the top of his thigh when she sent a flirtatious wink his way.

"Then why don't we make it come true?"

Calling for the male staff's attention once more, Wooyoung pulled out a large bill and placed it on the empty tray he was holding.

"I think we're going to take you on that offer, that is if the lady doesn't mind."

The staff couldn't help but snort.

"Trust me, I don't think she would mind one bit."

Ushering them to follow him, the male staff led them through the crowd of people that were gathered at the main showroom and down one of the hallways. Wooyoung and Yunho were surprised when instead of taking them to the upstairs private rooms, their guide instead took them down stairs.

"We don't actually tell most people this but our best and most expensive private rooms are actually down here and not upstairs. We only reserve them for V.I.P guests. And there's a bonus.."

The male staff typed in a code into the keypad that kept the entrance to the room locked and opened it up for them to let themselves in.

"There's absolutely no cameras, no rules, and you don't have to worry about anyone hearing anything." The man slyly told them as he walked off and told them to enjoy themselves.

Looking around, indeed the room was even better than the upper ones they had often rented. Not only was it bigger, it had a full bar for them to enjoy, there were multiple couches and they even mounted a pole in the middle of the room. Lilac curtains were strategically placed around to decorate the room which looked marvelous against the blue LED lights that illuminated several parts of the room so everything inside would be clearly visible. They could even make out a faint scent of lavender and vanilla, no doubt infused with pheromones to further enhance sexual arousal.

"No rules he said.... perfect." Wooyoung grinned as he made himself comfortable on one of the couches.

"Just because there are no cameras doesn't mean you can behave as you like. Remember that she'll probably only be here to dance for us and nothing else." Yunho reminded him.

"Relax old man, you know I would never touch a woman without her consent. Lucky me, I'm still handsome .... and rich." Wooyoung laughed slightly as he pulled out a bundle of money from his pocket causing his friend to roll his eyes.

"And what makes you think that is going to entice the young lady to suck your dick? If anything, she'll prefer someone younger and not some... geezer." He poked fun at his friend who looked at him with an unamused face.

"Look who's talking boomer." He scoffed at him.

Both of the men put an end to their small bantering when the door suddenly opened and in came none other than the very object of their fantasies, her stiletto heels clicking against the marble floor. She eyed them up and down with a curious expression, the corners of her mouth curling up just subtly.

"Hello there beautiful." Wooyoung leaned back and took in her figure.

"Good evening gentlemen." She greeted them as she shifted her weight from leg to the other one, her hands placed on her hips respectively.

"Y/N is it?" Yunho inquired as he tried to keep a little more decorum and tried not to stare too much at her.

"Unless you'd prefer to call me something else." She grinned at them with a smoldering expression.

"I'd love to call you mine." Wooyoung put his thoughts out there for the other two occupants in the room to hear, shocking and embarrassing one while the other seemed delighted to hear him say that.

"Wooyoung! Control yourself." Yunho nudged him with his elbow, warning him not to try anything stupid or foolish.

"And tell me then handsome, just how do you want me?"

Both men whipped their heads at her question, wondering if they heard her right.

"Umm- excuse me?" Yunho wanted her to clarify what she meant.

The young dancer took slow and careful steps closer to them, beginning to round the table that stood in between her and the couch they were seated in.

"On my knees, on all fours, against the wall, or laying down, just tell me what position you want me in." She was completely unafraid as she now carefully sat on the table right in front of them, spreading her legs just a little bit, daring them not to gaze in between them which they both ultimately failed in doing.

She was driving them crazy, making them lose every last bit of self control they had. And the way she'd innocently bat her eyelashes at them was not helping their case, it only served to fuel their growing lust for her even more. Wooyoung was about to speak up, but Yunho of course stopped him.

"No-no honey. We just wanted you to keep us some company." He wanted to slap himself for sounding so old fashioned.

Y/N tilted her head at his explanation.

"Keep you company? You mean like this?"

Not expecting her to get up and suddenly straddle his lap, Yunho's eyes shot wide open when her chest was practically pressing against his face. Y/N gently caressed the hair around his temples, not so subtly grinding herself on his tent that was hardening even further. His friend next to him was equally surprised and jealous that it wasn't his lap that the young lady chose to situate herself on.

"Is this what you wanted?"

When Yunho shifted under her and stammered out an incoherent babble of words, Y/N took hold of his hands and placed them on her hips.

"It's ok baby. You can touch me if you want. I don't mind." She encouraged him with a sweet smile on her face.

"I'm not sure I want to..." As soon as he said that, he regretted his words especially after seeing the disheartened look on Y/N's pretty face.

"Well I know for a fact I do so give her to me if you don't want her."

She let out a squeal when she was suddenly pulled of Yunho's lap and instead perched upon one of Wooyoung's strong and muscular thighs. He couldn't stop smiling as his hands rubbed against the sides of her waist.

"So tell me what's a gorgeous and young lady such as yourself doing in a place like this?" He was genuinely curious as to why someone like her would seek out work as an exotic dancer.

"Well it definitely brings in a lot of money, but I'm not going to deny that I do enjoy the attention and stares of some of the patrons like to give me." She answered, her hand reaching over to loosen up the tie around his neck.

"Oh, so you like being a little exhibitionist?" Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"God yes! But my ex boyfriend wasn't a fan of my occupation, hence why he left." She let out a tiny huff at the information.

"Well if you ask him he's an idiot for that. I know if I had a sexy girl like you, I wouldn't mind showing her off a little. Let others admire her like the goddess she is."

As he said those words to her, Wooyoung's fingers slowly peeled the straps of her top off her shoulders, his tips tracing along the outline of her collarbone. Y/N didn't budge when she felt Wooyoung's lips kiss across her shoulder and the side of her neck, she merely tilted her head to the opposite side so it would give him more access to suckle along her smooth skin. Yunho watched all of this with an aching hard on and clenched fist as he realized it could have been him in Wooyoung's position at that moment.

"Truthfully I don't miss him, he was very controlling anyways, but I gotta say...." She bit down on her lip, a bit unsure about continuing her sentence.

"It's ok baby. You can tell us anything you want." Wooyoung assured her as his teeth tugged at her earlobe.

Sucking in a breath she didn't know she was holding, Y/N spilled her secret out.

"I've just been a lot more horny ever since I started this job and I don't have anyone to fuck me like a slut. God I just want a big, fat cock to tear my pussy apart."

Both men looked at each other and exchanged a few suspicious glances before returning their attention back on the girl on Wooyoung's lap.

"Are you horny right now darling?" He asked her as his hand came to the front of her top and started undoing the buttons that ran through the middle.

"If I say yes, will one of you fuck me?" She turned her head to look at Yunho, not wanting him to feel left out. Her hand even reached over so it could brush along the tent in his pants, which he welcomed graciously and even allowed her to palm his hard on as she pleased.

"Oh honey, if you want, we'll both fuck you." Yunho finally spoke up after a long time of staying silent, scooting his body closer to her.

"Please do." She begged them, eyes looking like a pitiful little pup.

Undoing the last button, Wooyoung peeled the top off her, both men releasing groans when her breasts came into view. They looked so soft and smooth and it took everything in them not to take one in each of their mouths and devour them. Getting off of Wooyoung's thigh so she could sit right in between both men, Y/N took one of their hands and set them right on her mounds.

"Touch me, please. I want your guys' hands all over me."

Each one of the men began to squeeze at her tits, Wooyoung opting for a more rough approach, even pinching at her nipples, while Yunho took his time in massaging her flesh, thumb rubbing circles on her hardened peak. Y/N was already loving the two opposite dynamics both men were giving her, it was exactly what she'd been craving in a long time. She threw her head back when Wooyoung stooped down to take the breast he was currently toying with into his mouth, teeth tugging at her tiny bud. She was releasing heavy breaths as he continued to suck at her tender skin, eyes closing as she began to get lost in the pleasure. She nearly whined when she felt Yunho take his hand off her breast, but it was caught in his mouth since he moved his hand from her chest so it could cup her chin. Tilting it towards him, he began to kiss her hungrily. She gratefully welcomed the intrusion of his tongue in her mouth, letting it slither inside of it, taking complete control of her.

Taking advantage of his friend moving his hand away, Wooyoung moved so he was sitting right in front of her. Y/N pryed her legs open so he could be easily accommodated between her body. He moved his mouth to latch onto her other breast, giving it the special attention its twin had already received. He became a little harsher as he began to plaster marks on the underside of her boob and on the top of them. Each time he sank his canines down onto her skin, Y/N would emit a semi pained whimper that was muffled by Yunho's tongue as it swirled against her own wet muscle. Moving further south, Wooyoung began dragging his tongue down her sternum until it reached her belly button. Coming face to face with her leather shorts, Wooyoung grabbed the sides of the fabric before swiftly pulling it down her legs. Y/N shuddered when a small waft of cool air breezed over her wet heat.

"Fucking hell, what a nice and wet pussy you have little lady." Wooyoung stared in amazing at her shining folds that were inviting him to dive in and feast upon their sweet juices.

Pulling away so he could glimpse down at the lady's intimate place, Yunho moaned deeply when he saw what his friend was looking at.

"Fuck we've barely done anything and you're already this wet for us? You flatter us baby." He chuckled as he went back in to continue their makeout session.

Wooyoung's fingers slid around her folds, teasing her as they grazed over her slit, always stopping before they touched her clit. Y/N was yearning to be touched and she did not appreciate the older man's teasing. Yunho of course noticed since her needy whining was being spilled into his mouth.

"Is that a promise?" Wooyoung challenged.

"Wooyoung stop making her wait and eat her out before I shove you to the ground and I finger her cunt until she's squirting all over your face." He warned in between kisses.

Pulling back with a snarl, Yunho stared menacingly at his friend.

"Fucking eat her pussy or I'll get my men to hold you down and make you watch as I fuck her."

Shrugging off Yunho's threat, Wooyoung latched his mouth onto the young female's mound and started fucking it with his tongue. Y/N couldn't help but gasp as Wooyoung's skillful and experienced tongue swirled and sucked along her folds. He made sure to focus most of his attention on her clit, nibbling down on it while making sure he didn't accidentally grazed his teeth onto them.

"You like the way Wooyoung is eating you out baby?" Yunho asked as his large hands cupped your breasts once more, squishing them together as his thumbs toyed with your nipples.

"Yes! Shit! He's amazing!" She gasped out when he gave her a particularly long suck to thank her for her praises, a cocky grin forming.

"Heard that Woo? The little lady is enjoying it." Yunho gushed as he brought one breast up to place kisses on it.

Wooyoung responded with a moan against her pussy, his hands spreading her legs as far as they could go so he could lap reach every inch of flesh with his tongue. He left no place untouched as he practically smothered his face into her juicy core. Y/N's body started to tremble as she felt herself being thrown over the precipice. Yunho kept holding onto her as she began cumming on Wooyoung's face.

"Fuck- oh shit!" She cursed with scrunched eyes as an intense orgasm took over her senses.

Wooyoung didn't detach his mouth from her core until he made certain that she had released all the juices she possibly could, which ultimately ended up swallowed by him since he could not leave a drop to waste. When Y/N came to her senses, she still felt as if she was in a permanent high.

"I've never came from someone eating my pussy out. That was the first time anyone has made me orgasm from one." She admitted rather shyly.

"That's probably because you've only had amateur assholes perform oral on you honey. I've got years of experience. I know what a girl wants when she's getting her sweet pussy eaten out." Wooyoung boasted as he sat down next to her.

"Well I think it's only fair I show my gratitude to you both right?"

Sliding off the couch, Y/N got on her knees and beckoned the men to stand at each of her sides. Lifting her hands up, she began to palm their clothed cocks. She could only imagine how big they were since they already felt pretty packed even in their confinement. Although it was a little hard doing it with one hand, she managed to unzip both of their pants and slowly dragged them down their thighs until she was blessed by the sight of their mature cocks springing forward, fully erect and waiting for her to touch them. Her mouth was agape as she took one in each hand and began pumping them.

"God you're both so big."

Both men let out small laughs at her reaction.

"What? Never seen cocks like ours before baby?" Wooyoung asked.

"Not in person and I've always wanted to be fucked by sizes like yours."

Her hand continued to stroke their lengths. She even went as far as to spit on both of them so it would be easier to glide her hand along their shaft. Although Yunho was definitely the bigger of the two, packing a monster sized cock, Wooyoung was also pretty endowed and she had no doubt that with his cocky attitude he definitely knew how to use his dick in the best way possible. She couldn't help herself and actually brought both of their tips to her mouth. Her tongue alternated between licking Wooyoung's head before giving attention to Yunho's, both of them hissing when they felt her tongue on them. Y/N did not shy away from even slurping one both of them at the same time, opening her mouth as much as it could to fit their heads inside and sucking them in.

"Oh shit! You're such a dirty little girl." Yunho muttered out as his hand came down to pet the top of her head.

"Tell me are you always such a whore for your other customers?" Wooyoung's tone had a slight hint of jealousy at the thought of someone else getting the special treatment they were getting.

"Hmmm no. None of the other people have ever interested me. You guys are the first that made me wanna get a little naughty." She confessed with an innocent smile before taking each of their balls and giving them a few harsh sucks, coating them generously with her saliva. Although it was more than arousing having their young companion jerk them off simultaneously, even giving their slits a couple licks every now and then, the men knew they wanted a little more. They wanted to corrupt the woman in front of them and make a mess all over her.

"You wanna get even more naughty baby?" Yunho's voice dropped down 2 tones as he began taking his shirt off, Wooyoung following suit.

"Yes." She looked between one of the men and then to the other, nearly drooling when she saw their fit abs come into her view.

Lifting her up, Yunho effortlessly sat her back down on the couch.

"Want us to fuck you?" He continued to ask as he and his friend finished stripping themselves out of their clothes.

"Yes! Please fuck me." She encouraged, beckoning them over as she got on all fours for them.

"Well I don't know about you, but I really wanna see what that pretty mouth of hers does, especially after getting a sneak peak." Stepping over to her face, Wooyoung rubbed the tip of his cock along the top of her lip.

Y/N giggled as she took Wooyoung's length in one of her hands once more, pressing kisses along his head. She was so distracted in playing around and teasing Wooyoung that she didn't notice Yunho had placed himself right behind until she felt his bulge rubbing along her ass cheeks.

"I hope you don't mind sweetheart, but I wasn't expecting to get so lucky to be able to fuck a pretty girl such as yourself tonight so I'm afraid I brought no condoms...."

Y/N gasped when she felt a long finger insert itself into her ass.

"So I'm going to have to settle for fucking this other hole of yours." He circled his finger around her hole to further stretch her out, eventually adding a second finger inside her.

"If that's all right with you of course."

Y/N responded with a moan and pushed her butt further back so his fingers could sink deeper in her.

"I'd say it's more than ok with her. Look at how desperate she looks." Wooyoung lightly giggled, tapping the head of his cock against both of her cheeks.

"Open up."

Following his orders, Y/N allowed him to slip himself into her warm and wet mouth, unable to help but groan when he pushed half of his length in.

"What's wrong baby? Can't fit all of me inside?"

Taking it as a challenge, Y/N hollowed her cheeks even further and pushed herself forward until her nose pressed against his pubic bone. Although she choked slightly when she felt him hit the back of her throat, she was still able to swirl her tongue around him and properly accommodate him.

"For someone so young, you sure do seem to have a lot of experience." Wooyoung pointed out as his hands gently caressed her stuffed cheeks.

"That's cause she's nothing but a whore."

Y/N clenched around nothing as she heard Yunho's degradation, humming against Wooyoung's length as she felt his long fingers collect some of her slick and used it as a makeshift lube to spread around her asshole. Making sure she was all prepped and properly stretched out, Yunho took his sizeable dick and very slowly pushed himself into her ass, wanting to savor how her tightness hugged every inch of him. His head was thrown back when he stuffed her ass full of his cock, nails digging into her cheeks as he held back the urge to ram himself brutally and tear her ass up. When he did not move for a few seconds, Y/N grew impatient and pulled herself off him only to stuff him back inside.

"Don't make our pretty baby wait by being gentle Yunho. Can't you see she's desperate to have you break her apart?" Wooyoung smirked as pulled out of her mouth only to force himself back in, holding her head in place before releasing her. Y/N gagged around his cock, a tiny slick of drool falling out of the corners of her mouth.

"Is that what you want? Want us to be rough with you?"

Yunho got a response in the form of a moan around Wooyoung's dick and a tightening around his own cock .

"Ok shit! Yunho you better start fucking her cause I can't hold back anymore."

Not caring to wait and see if his friend would follow his instructions, Wooyoung gripped the back of Y/N's head and started bucking his hips into her mouth. Garbled noises that were muffled by Wooyoung's intrusion were spilling forth out of her, which were further intensified in range when the male behind her likewise started moving.

"Oh shit! You're so tight, you feel amazing little lady." Yunho praised as he slammed his hips onto her ass, watching it smack against his skin and wiggle every time he pounded back into her.

Y/N whimpered when one of Yunho's hands snaked in between her thighs and began to rub circles around her clit, further boosting the feeling they were giving her. With one of them fucking her face and the other one ramming into her ass, she felt so full and stuffed to the brim and she absolutely loved it.

"You enjoying this honey? Are you enjoying as two older men use you as their fuck toy?" Wooyoung's question was met by a loud vibration of her whimpers around him, his cock twitching at the feeling.

"Of course she's enjoying it. She loves getting used and treated as nothing more than a cum bucket." Yunho groaned in a raspy voice. His fingers which were moving earnestly around her bundle of nerves moved to strike them, making their recipient shudder when more stinging slaps were placed on her mound.

Tears of pleasure were rolling down Y/N's eyes as she was being fucked past her limit by the older and dangerous criminals. Never in her life did she actually believe such men like them would fulfill one of her deepest fantasies, yet here she was, gurgling and swallowing around one huge dick while her ass was getting torn apart by an even bigger cock. Not to mention Yunho was making sure she'd be tipped over the edge again as he worked his fingers on her clit, alternating between rubbing harshly against it before slapping it once more. During one of these hard smacks, she began crying out as her body began spasming and bursting out in pleasure, her juices spilling out of her.

"Oh fuck! She's cumming already." Wooyoung's words were becoming more slurred as he felt his own high fast approaching.

"I know. I'm gonna cum-" Yunho grunted as he plunged himself faster in her, his low and deep moans mixing with Wooyoung's higher pitched ones as both men used their pretty dirty dancer to push themselves over the edge, their relentless pace only helping to elongate the orgasm the girl under them was having.

"Fuck! Fuck!" Pulling out with a hiss, Yunho wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped himself furiously until white spurts of cum were being plastered all over her ass cheeks. He didn't stop until he made sure to paint her butt with all the cum he had to give.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung held her head in place as he fucked his own cum down her throat.

"Swallow it all you dirty whore. I don't want you spilling out a single drop. Got it?" He ordered as he spilled his seed into her mouth, which Y/N promptly swallowed as he said to. She kept eye contact throughout the entire process of having him rut his hips against her face, his mouth agape and blurting out swear after swear as he emptied himself in her mouth.

A popping sound was made when he pulled out of her, saliva plastered all over her lips which were red and swollen after the rough treatment they were put through. Both men slumped down on the couch to catch their breath and collect their senses. Yunho was the first one to gain his energy back and began to look for something to clean up, luckily finding a few hand towels near the mini bar. Coming back over where the other two occupants were, he began wiping off the leftover cum on Y/N's ass.

"You doing ok babe?" Yunho wanted to make sure.

"I'm doing wonderful, thank you." She giggled when Yunho pressed a light slap on her ass at her response.

After making sure to clean up properly, Yunho and Wooyoung gathered their clothes and began dressing themselves again while the exotic dancer simply sat there and watched them, lip poked out in a pensive thought.

"Will I see you guys some other night?"

Yunho and Wooyoung looked back and forth between each other and at her.

"Do you wanna see us again?" Wooyoung asked, his hopes getting up.

Y/N smiled at him.

"Of course I do. Just be sure to bring condoms next time. I'd really love to feel you both destroy my pussy next time."

The men chuckled at her bold words.

"Oh baby, it'll be our pleasure."

♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡♡*:.｡..｡.:*♡

[smallblip]

You asked, I deliver! Part II of Accidental baby acquisition💖 I lost one of the asks 😩 but anon who asked about baby Udo, I named the baby in your honour! Saddle up cowboys! I’m not good with sequels but here we are-

Babygate:

the scandal that implies that a certain boy band member cheated on his partner (another band member) and had a kid even when the mom was never pregnant.

- urban dictionary

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. Life is definitely picking up. Pieck still sends him excerpts of her dirty fanfiction to proofread, Bertholdt is still doing all he can to “retire at 30”, Annie might have eloped with said boyfriend. But he’s seeing Porco on the regular now, he’s really cute, he’s got a nice ass. Reiner can’t complain.

He’s also recently donated his Levi Ackerman standee. Only because it’s getting increasingly hard to reconcile the fact that he has a life sized cutout of his colleague’s boyfriend in his room.

What he can complain about is said colleague (and friend) dropping bombs on him. He’s one of the moderators of one of the bigger No Name servers. Sometimes he wonders if that’s a conflict of interest because, well, he knows the guy on a first name basis. But today he has other concerns. He sees his notifications blowing up and decides to go on the No Name server. And lo and behold. There’s a paparazzi shot of Levi and Hanji with a stroller taking a walk in a new channel called “MYSTERY FAMILY?”.

He cancels his plans with Porco. “Don’t text me for the next few hours, got a fire to fight.” He clicks send, and feels kinda bad, so he sends Porco really dank meme to appease him. (That doesn’t stop Porco from doing exactly what Reiner told him not to do and demanding an explanation every five minutes).

He forces himself to take a deep breath before texting Hanji-

“Hanji… I don’t mean to be rude but…

WHAT THE FUCK?”

—

So here begins babygate. A conspiracy theory that took the Internet by storm.

“Levi Ackerman had a secret marriage! He was keeping this from us from the start!”

“It’s a publicity stunt to keep No Name relevant during their hiatus!”

“It’s an elaborate scheme by the company to punish Levi for announcing the hiatus without their knowledge!”

“Levi’s mystery partner was sent by the lizard people to take control of his mind and produce half-lizard, half-human hybrid babies to take over the world! What a bitch!” (This is Hanji’s favourite).

And the internet’s favourite- this is all an elaborate scheme to cover up the scandalous love affair between Levi and Eren- the band’s guitarist.

“What the fuck?” Levi had said during dinner once, to which Reiner had to swallow his food and pretend he never read or actively looked up ereri content. Yes. Reiner knows the name of their ship.

Levi hadn’t been too worried before, but when pictures of them shopping for baby stuff leaked online, something snaps. Something snaps and Erwin tells him he needs more time to figure out the biggest PR crisis in No Name history.

It’s Levi. Levi is the PR crisis.

So in the meantime, no shock reveals, no more social media, (if possible) no more leaving the house with pregnant girlfriend in tow. “Don’t do ANYTHING.” Erwin had said, “especially not you!” Erwin had directed that at Eren, who suggested he makes an announcement. Erwin shudders. He remembers all the past scandals they got themselves into just because Eren, bless him, didn’t know when to shut up.

“I’m sorry…” Levi says to Hanji when they’re cuddled up on the couch watching a documentary on whale migration.

“Huh?” Hanji says, voice muffled through her incessant sniffling because “whales are delivered tail first, Levi! They wear their mothers like hats!”

He apologises for putting her through the mess that is him and his job. And Hanji smiles at him. He wonders if their kid will look like her. He’s hoping they would.

“Levi…” Hanji sighs, taking his face in her hands, “that night at the bar I thought to myself ‘this man has a face I would risk it all for’… I think this counts within the realms of ‘all’”

Levi scoffs, but a smile is threatening the corners of his lips. Erwin’s nagging over the phone fades a little and he sinks a little lower into the couch. He sighs one more time for good measure before saying-

“So… you wanna know which my favourite babygate theory is?”

—

“And you’re really not bothered by all this?” Reiner asks, in an emergency meeting that he had scheduled into her calendar. He hates that he’s packing things into her already busy schedule when she’s about to pop but, he figures it’s better now than when the baby’s actually out. He had booked a meeting room and everything, figuring if he projected some of the crazy shit they’re saying on the fan boards up on screen, Hanji would start taking this seriously. Because if Reiner knows anything, it’s that the fans will do anything to keep their ship afloat.

He scrolls past another post on the lizard people and Hanji gets him to pause.

“I mean… A little?” Hanji pinches her fingers together.

“Hanji…” Reiner sighs, “you and Levi discuss and rate babygate conspiracy theories you find online I don’t think you’re taking this seriously at all…”

Hanji looks at Reiner- an absolute state of panic. And she considers panicking for a moment. She’s read articles dissecting babygate and although they’re absolutely batshit, Hanji appreciates how well-researched they are. Which is a little scary. To be fair to Levi, he’s been trying to get her to worry. “I can’t keep you safe all the time, you have to be careful” like he’s going off to war somewhere. But it’s not in Hanji nature to worry about things like this. She’s a researcher at a lab who lived an ordinary life up until the point the universe hit her with a-

Sike! Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy! What are you gonna do about it?

And now she knows what headcanons and lemons are, and she really doesn’t know what to do with that knowledge. So Hanji decides, she’ll do nothing. She’ll go on indulgently long walks Levi in tow, she’ll talk his ear off about work. And like a good girlfriend, she’ll listen to his demos (and enjoy them) and tell him “are you sure anger rhymes with danger?”.

“I don’t really know how to worry about anything beyond our samples getting contaminated…” Hanji says, sheepish. Reiner sighs. He doesn’t want to be a wet blanket on Hanji’s life. He wants to be fun Reiner. Cool as a cucumber. Reiner who manages to make it through dinner at Hanji’s without having to excuse himself to hyperventilate in her bathroom because Levi is right there. And he’s so afraid that he might just be able to read his mind and find out he had looked up Levi Ackerman x y/n fanfiction once in his foolish youth (youth being approximately four months back)

Reiner shudders.

“Yeah okay… That’s um… That’s cool… Right?” He says.

Hanji shrugs.

—

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what?

You go into labour of course, with a matter of fact- “oh. Look Levi. The water broke.” All while refusing to leave the house until you demolish that amazing sandwich he made for you. You go into labour and you yell and grunt like a beast as you squeeze the life out of your baby daddy because he kinda deserves it. You both kinda deserve this pain. Take it as heavenly punishment for being horny and stupid if you will.

And in the middle of it Hanji thinks huh, this feels like a mix of a reality TV show from MTV and a badly written fanfiction. Except Hanji isn’t a teen mom and she’s too old for self-insert fiction that involves a lead singer of a popular band.

But Levi is here, and he doesn’t complain one bit even though he looks like he’s about to pass out. So as far as drunken one night stands go- this is pretty damn aspirational.

The baby enters the world with a huge cry.

“Kid’s got a huge set of lungs…” Levi says, but his own voice is quivering.

“Just like her dad…” Hanji smiles.

As he watches Hanji fall asleep with their baby on her chest, Levi thinks fuck it. Fuck keeping this under wraps. Fuck the fans and them enjoying how Eren gets on his nerves. Fuck Erwin and his “Levi. You’re giving me a headache. You are the cause of this headache.” Because the baby has Hanji’s nose and his eyes and he loves them more than anything in the world.

He snaps a picture of them and tags bigdaddyzoë-

“Welcome to the world, my love.”

—

Reiner can’t help the tears that well in his eyes after seeing the picture Hanji had sent him of the baby-

“He says hi to his favourite uncle!” Was the caption, and Reiner could only reply with a crying cat meme and an incoherent text that Hanji favourites.

He’s on the bus on the way to the hospital when his phone buzzes incessantly. It’s Porco.

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK.”

“LEVI ACKERMAN IS HANJI ZOË’S BABY DADDY?”

“HANJI ZOË MY PHD SUPERVISOR?”

“LEVI ACKERMAN OF NO NAME?”

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK?”

He sends a reply at the entrance of the hospital-

“Welcome to my world”

—

Reiner thinks things are alright. He’s one of the moderator of one of the bigger No Name servers, so he can block and remove people at his discretion. Some days he lets it get to his head. It makes him feel like a king. But today, he’s putting out fires.

Erwin decided their PR strategy was absolutely no strategy, because “they’re zooming in on the pixels Levi. Once they doubt the pixels, they won’t believe anything we’re saying”. With that. Babygate has officially taken on a life of its own. Eren still sends Levi babygate articles to annoy him, and to Hanji because she asked very nicely. Hanji thinks Erwin’s strategy makes sense, Levi thinks it’s just lazy. But Erwin framed a certificate that says “survived a PR crisis (sort of)” that Hanji had insisted be hung up on their wall, so that closes one chapter. Besides, Eren has been spotted going out on dates with a mystery girl. Which has the double effect of diverting attention away from Levi and exacerbating babygate because “see? Told you the company’s doing all they can to prove they’re not together!”

“Can’t you keep it in your pants?” Levi had thrown at Eren, to which he had responded cleverly with a-

“Could’ve said the same for you!”

Touché…

“See? That can’t be Levi! Look at how he’s smiling!”

“That can’t be a baby! Looks like an animatronic to me!”

“Do they even make animatronics that realistic?”

Reiner pins his “no slander” rule- one day they’ll get it. Or at least he would’ve gotten rid of all the people that don’t.

“Who’s this bigdaddyzoë anyway?”

“Maybe she isn’t real? Company probably invented her…”

“Heard she’s a crazy groupie who got knocked up…”

“Heard she’s hot…”

… several people are typing

—

“So… I heard from Reiner you were defending my honour in the server?” Hanji quirks an eyebrow.

Levi shrugs. Whatever goes down in the server stays between Leviackerman173810 (leviackerman and all 173809 permutations of said username had already been taken) and the hundreds of people who haven’t quite figured out he’s the real deal. Besides, Erwin has issued him three warnings so it’s best to lay low for now.

“My hero…” Hanji chuckles, pressing a kiss on Levi’s head. Below them, baby Udo wriggles and yawns against the fabric of Levi’s shirt. Cute.

So Levi Ackerman is your baby daddy. Now what? You look at your son and know he’s going to break hearts like his father of course. And if you’re Levi, you pray to god he never asks about babygate because Hanji has read up enough about it to be considered a connoisseur.

One day the internet will break when they find out the identity of bigdaddyzöe. But for now baby Udo has his parents wrapped around his tiny fingers and he doesn’t quite understand the concept of him being the spawn of every typical band member x y/n fanfiction. Or the centre of a very popular, very absurd, yet strangely believable internet conspiracy theory. Or the canon plot that has sunk one of the biggest No Name ships. And that’s okay.

[ray-ray-writings]

Tightrope-Dream

This is a self indulgent Dream x gn!reader in the dreamsmp that I was going to post a while ago but got to insecure about it to post. But now that I haven’t posted in a few days and I don’t know when I’ll get to write again, I decided to say f*** it and post it. So I hope you enjoy hahaha. 

Based off of this song. Song lyrics are in bold. 

Masterlist here

Y/N and Dream have been together for what feels like forever. But when Dream says that he cares about nothing anymore, Y/N takes a moment to evaluate the tightrope walk they call their relationship. 

Y/N’s POV

“I don’t give a fuck, okay?” I heard Dream spit from behind an obsidian wall. “I do not give a fuck about Spirit. I don’t give a fuck about anything actually! All I care about is your discs. I care MORE about your discs than you do. That’s the only thing I care about on the server...” His words hit me like a brick. Dream didn’t care about anything. That means he doesn’t care about me… That can’t be true, right? We’ve been together since the beginning… Before the beginning! I was by his side when we made this server. I fought beside him in every single war, no matter how in the wrong I thought he was… When I would tell him what I thought he would simply brush me off. We used to make every decision together but lately it seems that I was just another obstacle in his way. Or maybe just another pawn in his game. 

I came out of my daze to hear the end of Dream’s speech, maybe this part he’ll fix his wording… “Don’t try and threaten me. I don’t care. I have lost all care for anything on the server…” Well there goes that hope. I couldn’t help the sobs that fell from my mouth at his words. He doesn’t care for anything on the server… I’m on the server. George, Sapnap, Punz, Bad, all his friends were on the server. He doesn’t care about us. 

Suddenly it was very quiet, I knew they had heard me. I took this opportunity to step out from behind the wall I was hiding behind. All eyes softened at the sight of me, Dream’s eyes softening the most. “Y/N” he tried, taking a few steps forward but I held out a hand to stop him, “Don’t. You don’t care about anything on this server… Remember?” I hissed, marching away from him, not even turning around when he called my name once more. 

I was at a lost as to where to go. I couldn’t go home. Dream would be there soon enough. I couldn’t go to the community house, too many memories. I knew he would find me at a friend’s house. Besides I needed to be alone. I needed to be somewhere where I could look down and think about everything. Then it hit me and I couldn’t stop the laugh that made it past the tears. “The reverse coaster.” 

When Tommy first built this contraption, everyone, myself included, called him crazy. Who would want to climb all the way up to the top of a track just to go down it again. Now I couldn’t help but be thankful that he had made this. The journey to the top took fifteen minutes, but it was worth it. I could see everything from here. It was beautiful. Walking the thin line while looking at the ground really made me think of a tightrope… A perfect analogy for my relationship with Dream right now. Dream…

Some people long for a life, simple and planned

Tied with a ribbon

Some people won't sail the sea 'cause they're safer on land, to follow what's written

But I'd follow you to the great unknown

Off to a world we call our own

I was with Dream when he began the server. He had gotten tired living under someone else’s rule and wanted a place we could call our own. He convinced me… although it didn’t take much convincing, I would follow him anywhere. So one night we packed up what little we could carry and we left. We left into the unknown, not knowing where we were going. But we knew everything would be alright as long as we had each other.

Hand in my hand and we promised to never let go

We're walking a tightrope 

High in the sky. We can see the whole world down below.

We're walking a tightrope 

Never sure, never know how far we could fall

But it's all an adventure that comes with a breathtaking view

Walking a tightrope, with you

Through everything. I had always been Dream and I. For the longest time, you would never find one without the other. Our hands always seemed to interlocked. I guess it wasn’t until the first L’Manberg war when things started pulling us apart. We would stand on the obsidian walls that Dream and Sapnap had built around L’Manberg, just observing. Dream would constantly be making battle plans in his head and I was just there for moral support, I guess. We spent countless hours just watching the ‘hot dog stand’ waiting for someone to come out and make a move. 

There were some nights where the scene was almost breathtaking. The walls were pretty high up, we could see a lot of the server. Everything was lit up beautifully. Building shined brightly and everything was warm and welcoming. It was perfect. I would try and get Dream to dance with me. The first few times he would agree and we would slow dance around the walls. But as battle drew nearer and nearer, we danced less and less until it stopped all together. 

Mountains and valleys, and all that will come in between. Desert and ocean.

You pulled me in and together we're lost in a dream. Always in motion.

So I risk it all just to be with you

And I risk it all for this life we choose

Dream and I had fights. What couple didn’t? Dream would do something stupid and I would grill him about it but we always made up. We never went to bed angry. I never would let him leave home on adventure without a hug and a kiss goodbye. No matter how far he would travel, I always knew he would come home to me and that we loved each other. Being with Dream was…  well a dream. We loved each other endlessly. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for him and I knew the feeling was mutual. 

I would risk everything to be with him. Leaving the safety of one server to begin another? No problem. Fight in a war where he was on the ‘bad side’? Anything for my baby. I would give my life if it meant Dream lived. I used to know the feeling was mutual… 

Hand in my hand and you promised to never let go

We're walking a tightrope

High in the sky. We can see the whole world down below

We're walking a tightrope

Never sure, will you catch me if I should fall?

I never had to worry. I knew that Dream was right there beside me. Always one step ahead. Filling in cracks and gaps in Prime Path so I wouldn’t trip and fall. Checking in on my mental health so I wouldn’t fall into a panic attack or into a depression. I always knew he would catch me, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I could trust him to be there for me. Now I’m not so sure. 

Well, it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view

Walking a tightrope

With you

Loving Dream. Being with Dream. Giving everything to Dream was and always has been an adventure. Many times it took me to new heights. Let me see things I had never seen before, leaving me breathless. I was balancing on a tightrope and he was right behind me, making sure I was okay, that I was safe. He would make sure I knew how much he cared for me. How much he loved me. 

These thoughts just swirled in my head. I sat down, my legs dangling over the cobblestone as I stared at the ground. What do I do from here? Dream says he doesn’t care about me anymore. For as long as I could remember, my whole life had revolved around Dream. Doing whatever he needed, being who he needed me to be. Given, he did the same thing for me. Where do I go from here? 

“Y/N!” A voice shouted from below, breaking me from my concentration. My eyes scanned the ground to find that familiar green hoodie. “What are you doing up there?” I rolled my eyes in annoyance, “Why do you care?” I shouted back. There was a moment of silence before he responded, “Come down! I want to talk,” Dream called. I watched as he placed a water bucket and motioned for me to jump down. I hesitated for a moment… Did I trust him? There’s only one way to find out. 

I took a deep breath before allowing myself to fall from the top of the reverse coaster. I couldn’t help but let out a giggle as the water cradled me securing me a safe landing. I quickly realized why I had jumped down in the first place and stood up to face Dream, looking down at the ground. “I’m here… What do you want?” I questioned harshly. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize and explain myself,” He answered, trying to get me to look at him. I refused and remained silent, motioning for him to go on. 

“I didn’t mean what I said. Of course I didn’t. I care about you so much Y/N. Tommy just gets me so worked up sometimes and I just speak without thinking. I love you and care for you. You know that!” Dream exclaimed, reaching out to try and grab my hands. I quickly pulled them away and snapped my eyes to his, “Do I?” I barked, causing Dream to flinch at my tone. “Do I know that you love me? That you care for me? Do I? Because lately it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it,” I snapped, all my feelings radiating off of me. “We used to do everything together. Make every decision together. We would walk the tightrope together, but lately it just feels like you’ve let me hung out to dry.” 

Dream gaped at me, “I didn’t know you felt this way,” He murmured, moving toward me once more. And once again, I moved and scoffed, “That’s because you’ve been too caught up in your big scheme Dream. You’ve been using me as another pawn.” Dream began to protest but I held up a finger to cut him off, “Don’t even try to deny it. You come to me and ask me for something and once I do it, you toss me aside, only coming back when you need something. And I’m sick of it, Dream.” 

Dream was silent as he thought about everything. “You’re right,” He spoke after a few moments of silence. “You are absolutely right. I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve been horrible to everyone… I’m so sorry.” Tears began to leak from Dream’s face as he spoke. “Please, give me another chance. I promise, I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I’ll be the man that you want, the one you need. Please.” He begged, reaching out to grab my hands. This time I let him grab a hold of them and hang on.

 “It’s going to take some time. The damage you’ve done it too great to fix with a simple apology. You’re going to have to work hard to prove to me that you’ve changed,” I explained, looking deep into Dream’s beautiful green eyes. He nodded quickly, “I will. As long as it takes.” Dream leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. “I love you so much Y/N” He murmured into my ear. “I love you too Dream. Always have, always will.”

Hope you enjoyed. If so be sure to leave a like, maybe even a reply or a reblog. Like I said I’m pretty insecure about this piece so I would love to know what you think. 

[tangerinemoon]

Something Wonderful

A/N: I wrote a self indulgent fic based on a musical because I have no self control. This is also the 3rd time I've attempted to write a fic like this, and this is the first time I've actually enjoyed it! 18+ DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!

warnings: angst, smut, more angst, language, blatant references to the last five years

word count: 2860

Part of the Bakguo Birthday Bash server collab hosted by  @jodrawssmut @phasmwrites @katsukikitten @bakugotrashpanda @lady-bakuhoe and @ramen-rambles 

Event Masterlist Here

-----

Five Years

The door slammed shut, a loud bag echoing throughout the apartment. Pictures on the wall shaking from the force of it, one of them crashing to the ground, the glass of the frame cracking. Emotions swelled up inside of you, threatening to spill over, to crack as well. 

You had told yourself in the beginning that a relationship with a Pro Hero would be hard, especially with someone considered the number two hero. He had assured you that you’d be fine, that the two of you could do it. Somewhere down the line you’d realized he’d been wrong, that you were both lying to yourselves. A fleeting thought in your mind wondering if you chased after him, would it magically make everything back to the way it was? Maybe if you tried more. Maybe if he communicated better.

“Maybe” doesn’t change a thing. It doesn’t turn back time to allow for do-overs. It doesn’t take back the words you said and the actions he made.

“You walk out that door, Katsuki, you’re walking out on us, so don’t bother coming back.”

A sob racked through your chest, as you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes. You’d given him the invitation to leave and he took it. The truth was, it had been over long before that door slammed, before the argument that led to it. Both of you knew it, but only now you could admit it to yourself. You couldn’t paint your life with lies because you wanted it to work so badly. 

It started it out with small arguments. Frustrations bubbling over and spilling out. While Bakugo’s Pro Hero career had taken off, landing him quickly in the Number Two spot. Your career seemed to fall deeper and deeper into the cracks. It wasn’t that you were mad at Bakugo for saving lives and helping people. No, you were so unbelievably proud of him. That didn’t stop anxiety and self doubt creeping in after every failed audition as you watched the world fall more and more in love with him. There was no comparing your work to Bakugo’s. There was no comparing hero work to acting. They were two different worlds. In the beginning you were both so supportive of each other, but as time went on, Bakugo was coming home less and less. Which should be fine, he’s out saving the world. It’d be selfish to be upset over that. But hero work wasn’t just saving the city and catching villains. It was public events, parties, galas, meet and greets. Things you weren’t always invited to. Things he started picking over you. It was part of the sacrifice. He wanted to be the best, and the things apparently helped him become the best. But did that mean you had to be left behind? The last event you accompanied him to, he had been swept up by a swarm of people, leaving you alone at a table the whole night. With every time he was gone, self doubt would crawl into your mind and you couldn’t help but really wonder if you were still a part of his life. 

Tonight was no different. Another event, another party, another time to get dressed up and sit alone in the corner all night. Watching as reporters, heroes, and fans alike fawned over him. You had told him that you wanted to stay in, he told you that he had to go. 

“It’s not even your party, Katsuki!” you had said, “can’t we just stay in? Your whole pro hero career isn’t going to fall apart because you bailed one party. I don’t want to go, please. ” 

One thing led to another, and soon you were in a full blown screaming match in the main room as he continued to get ready. It seemed like all you did was fight now when you saw each other. About his job, about your job, about nothing, until finally one of you cracked. 

“Although you’ve made it clear that you’re not going, I’m still going, okay?” he clenched his fists, back turned to you as he spoke, “I’m not going to pause my career because yours is failing!” 

With that you told him to leave. After everything was said and done: Bakugo left. 

The life you’d built together was done. It felt like all you could do now was cry. Cry until you could pick yourself back up and try to put yourself back together. Sitting alone in the apartment that served as nothing but a bombshell of your five year relationship. 

You don’t know how long you were sitting there. It felt like maybe hours had gone by. Every time you thought you were done crying, a new fresher wave of tears came barrelling down your cheeks. It was starting to feel cathartic, to release every emotion that’d been stirring up inside of you. Eventually you pulled yourself up off the floor. Walking around the apartment now felt like walking in a stranger's home. You made your way to the bedroom, the room that once felt like a safe haven for the two of you, but now served as a cruel reminder by how empty it’d felt. Empty long before he walked out that door. 

You sat down at the edge of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. In a few moments you would clean out your things from the closet and dresser. Taking any and all that you could with you, before calling a friend and seeing if you could stay with them. For now you’ll let the weight of the situation sink in just a little longer.

Your relationship was over. Gone. Somewhere along the way, something wonderful died. 

First Year

You’d met at a bar. He was out celebrating his birthday with some friends, while you had been dragged out by your roommate and their friends. It seemed like neither one of you wanted to be there, and by chance you both ended up sitting next to each other at the bar top avoiding your respected friend groups. He was hard not to notice, tall with messy blonde hair and bright vermillion, his arms flexing under his tight black shirt. You hit it off surprisingly well.

“I’m Bakugo Katsuki.” 

His name came out more like a grunt than an introduction, but you smiled nonetheless. You introduced yourself, and soon you found  yourselves spending most of the night together. He told you that he was a hero, on his way to becoming the best pro hero in japan. You told him you were an actress, and though you didn’t know if you were going to be the best, you just wanted to be good.

“You’re gonna be the best damn actress. Number One.”

His bluntness wasn’t something you were used to. He wasn’t trying to smooze up to you, buy you a drink and try and get into your pants with stupid one liners. Sure he was a little gruff but that’s what kind of made him so nice to talk to. At the end of the night you still went home with him…

The bedroom door shot open, Bakugo using one hand to keep you pressed against him while the other reached out behind him to slam it shut. Your shirt was long gone left somewhere between his front door and the hallway, along with his shirt and jeans. Bakugo pushed you down onto the bed, pullining is lips from yours. He stared down at you, placing a hand softly on your cheek, a stark contrast to the rough feverish kisses you had been sharing only moments ago. You nipped playfully at his thumb then lightly bated his hand away. You pulled him towards you by his, coming face to face with the prominent bulge in is black boxer briefs. You tugged them down, his cock springing free from the confines. He was big, very. Not too long but incredibly thick, with two prominent veins running along the shaft. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, your thighs clenching. 

Bakugo let out a quiet grunt, placing a hand at the back of your head. He didn’t push, waiting for you to move first. You took him in your hand, giving his cock a few firm strokes before leaning down and tentatively giving the head a lick. His hand tightened around the back of your head, a deep groan coming from the back of his throat. You took that as the go ahead, guiding him into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the tip, your hand continuing to stroke what wasn’t in your mouth. You took him further into your mouth, sinking in about halfway before pulling back and sinking back down again. Bakugo’s hand guided you in a steady rhythm, cursing everytime you would take him fully in. 

“Ah, fuck baby. Yeah that’s it, fuck...just like that.” jis eyes fluttered shut, his head rolling back on his shoulders. 

You pulled back, wrapping your lips around the head and giving a firm suck, then pulling off completely. You sat back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and staring up at Bakugo. He stared back down at you, chest heaving and face flushed. 

Then he was on you in an instant, lips crashing against yours as he pushed you back onto the center of his bed. His hands were everywhere, gripping your hips, squeezing your thighs, finding their way around you back to the clasp of your bra. His hands fumbled only for a moment before you felt the cups loosen around your chest. You helped him pull it off, you skirt following soon after. His hands found their way to your chest, giving your breasts a firm squeeze. You moaned against his lips as he continued to massage your boobs, as he pulled away from your mouth, continuing his assault down your neck. He nipped at your pulse point, at the same time he flicked thumb against your right nipple, causing your eyes to roll sut with a soft moan. 

“Bakugo..” you whined. 

“Katsuki.” he whispered gruffly in your ear. 

“Hm?” you pulled back slightly, catching his gaze. 

“Call me Katsuki.” he spoke quietly, almost like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. You nodded, pulling him back in for another kiss. 

You stayed like that for a moment, just kissing and holding each other, Eventually, Bakugo’s hands started moving again. The tips of his finger grazed the hem of your panties, dipping in before pulling back. You whined, hips rolling into his touch, desperate for some kind of friction. He chuckled, fingers tracing along the sides of your hips then wrapping around the elastic and tugging them down in one swift movement. The fabric pooled around your ankles and you kicked them off, your panties landing somewhere off the side of the bed. Bakugo shifted his weight onto one hand, the other drifting to the space between your legs. The pads of his fingers were rough and calloused, different from his surprisingly soft touch. He traced down your slit circling arond yor entrance then grazing backup. His middle finger brushed against your clit and you let out a high pitched moan. He smirked , tapping his finger against the swollen nub. He began to rub firm circles against your clit and his lips slowly made their way down your chest. His lips latched onto your nipple as his fingers picked up speed. Your stomach tightened, you were panting and your skin felt so hot, Your senses were overwhelmed, the only thing keeping you grounded was him. He pulled off your chest, his lips continuing their trail down your torso. He nipped at your hip bones His tongue tracing along the skin in a pattern you could only assume was his name. It was all too much, yet not enough. You threaded your fingers in his hair, bringing him back up to meet your gaze.

“I need you insead me, now.” you panted,

Bakugo chuckled, “Easy there, princess.”

He reached over to the drawer in his nightstand, fumbling around until he pulled out a foil packet. He tore it open with his teeth, tossing the wrapper on his nightstand to be dealt with later. He pinched the tip of the condom, rolling it onto his length. Once the condom was secure, he settled back between your thighs, lifting one of your legs to rest on his hip. 

“You still good?”  he asked. You smiled up at him, nodding your head. Bakugo nodded in return then slowly pushed himself inside. He went slowly, stopping once he was in to let you adjust. You wrapped your other leg around his waist, giving him the ok to move. 

He didn’t hold back, pulling out and thrusting back in hard. His pace was unrelenting, in the absolute best way. He had your back arching and toe curling. Your nails raked down his back, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving crescent moons in their wake.

“God, yes Katsuki! Don’t stop!” you cried out. You didn’t care if his neighbors heard. Afterall it was technically his birthday and he deserved to know if he was doing a good job. 

“That’s it princess, say my name. Let everyone in the building now whose fuking you this good” Bakugo groaned. He shifted up onto his knees, holding your thighs even tighter around his waist. The new angle allowing him to thrust in even deeper into you, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot everytime. You threw your head back, a load gasp falling from your lips.His hand snaked up your thigh to your clit, resuming rubbing harsh circles against it. Your abdomen tightening, you were close, and he knew it.

“Fuck  baby, I can feel you squeezing my cock. You’re close aren’t you? Come on princess, come all over my cock. Be a good girl and come for me.” 

Like his words held some kind of magic, you wall clenched around him and you came. Crying his name out. With a few more harsh thrusts, Bakugo followed soon after. His head thrown back as he came with a loud groan, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave bruises. Not that you cared. If he could make you come like that he could mark up your entire body if he wanted to. 

You both stayed there for a moment, the room quiet except for the sounds of panting. After a minute, Bakugo pulled out with a sharp hiss. Your legs fell limply at his sides as he got up to dispose of the condom in a trash can under the desk in the corner. You sat up, looking around for your bra and panties.

“Here” Bakugo grunted, tossing something onto the bed next to you. You looked down to see it was a grey t-shirt, his shirt. 

“Bathroom is the first door on the left,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, towards the door. 

You were shocked for a moment, fully ready to call a cab and do the walk of shame home. Not expecting him to ask you to spend the night. You slipped the shirt over your head, thanking him before slipping out the door. You didn’t spend long in there, cleaning up and then heading back to the bedroom. When you walked back in, Bakugo was already in bed with the bedside light on. One arm propped behind his head while he scrolled through his phone with the other. When he heard you come in, he looked up, quickly setting the phone down. 

“Hey.” you greeted, making your way over to the otherside of the bed, crawling under the covers. Bakugo didn’t say anything at first, almost as if he was trying to rack his brain for what he wanted to say next. 

“You like breakfast, right?”

You were taken aback slightly by his tone, he seemed almost nervous. Was this the same Bakugo who just fucked your brains out?

“Yeah, I like breakfast.”

Bakugo nodded at your answer, that being enough for him. Reaching over to the nightstand to turn the light off. 

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight, Katsuki.”

You settled into the covers, almost a little unsure of yourself. You were about to turn over, when you felt Bakugo lightly grab your arm. He pulled you towards him, wrapping an arm around you and laying your head on his chest. You smiled softly, curling into him and getting comfortable, bidding him goodnight one more time. 

True to his word, Bakugo took you out for breakfast the next day. After which he asked for your number. And when you kissed him goodbye in his car after he dropped you off at your place you couldn’t help but think that every moment spent with him was something wonderful.

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: Call This The ‘Can This Man Cook’ Section

(….. I don’t think these men can cook 😔)

First post pog :D I wrote a majority of these super late at night, so please forgive and let me know of any mistakes you find <3 Also, it’s a little long lol

Characters: Dream, George, SapNap, Badboyhalo, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Quackity, Fundy, Schlatt.

Warnings: None, except for a kinda risqué comment in Philza’s. Oh and I guess there’s mentions of eating meat in case someone wants the warning :3

Song Recommendation: I Love You So- The Walters

Hella fluffy! Hope you enjoy <3

From best to worst:

#1: BadBoyHalo-

Bad is the best at cooking on the server. He is the creme of the crop, absolute top one percent, king shit at cooking.

He can cook, bake, and temper chocolate perfectly, what more could you want?

His favorite to-go recipes are cheesy garlic bread and a special spicy chicken and rice recipe which he typically makes when the boys are over at his house for the night. When he’s with you he goes for something a little smoother, some mulled sweet berry cider with a smoked cod fillet, eaten under the light of candles while you quietly chat about life and your fellow friends. It’s always one of Bad’s most anticipated hangouts, and he’s very careful about planning when it comes to those days.

While he appreciates being complimented on his food or his skills, deep down he wants to have someone to cook and share his knowledge with so the cooking process becomes much richer. He’s cooked for so long and learned so much, but it means nothing if he can’t share it with another person. The moment you come to him and ask him for help on any kind of recipe, he’ll drop almost everything to help you.

Side note; he absolutely carried lunch and dinner for his fellow DTeam members. While Sapnap would mostly take over breakfast, Bad would be hounded by begging puppy looks from these adult men who couldn’t cook and kind of just sigh and get the ‘kiss the cook’ apron ready. It’s not like he hates it or anything, but the endearing factor kinda slips off after a few years of adult men groveling.

(Bad’s hands rest over yours, dwarfing them entirely as he helps you cut the pasta sheet straightly. “There you go!” He encourages, squeezing your hand gently and stepping away, moving back to dice the vegetables on the cutting board next to you. A comfortable silence falls, and with it comes something in Bad’s heart softening. The worries and exhaustion in his mind ease, and he slips into a contented routine of finely chopping and slicing. It’s been a while since he’s felt so calm. There’s nothing that can ruin this- 

The front door slams open. Footsteps walk in and approach the kitchen and you both hear it, 

“Baaaaaaaaad.” Bad cringes, taking a step back.

“Baaaaaaaaaaad, we’re hungry.” Sapnap. 

“Yeah Bad, feeeeeeeed uuuuuuus.” George. 

And then, from around the door frame, a white mask peeks in. Nobody says a word, but you can feel Bad deflate next to you like let go balloon. 

“It’s alright, big guy.” You laugh, grabbing his forearm and leaning up against him. His sad puppy eyes make you smile a little, and you try to reassure him. “We can hang out alone another time. Let’s keep working on the pasta.” He sighs, but still returns your smile. “Yeah, another time.”)

#2: Philza 

Sigh…. he can cook. Not quite as good as Bad can, but better than Quackity. A solid second place. It stems mainly from being so knowledgeable that he just knows and has tried so many different foods, but since he doesn't actually do much cooking, I'm making him a flaky second place.

Doesn’t mind cooking, but doesn’t love doing it either. He’s always focused on so many different things that he’ll forgo eating to keep working on what he’s doing. He mostly cooks for Techno and Ranboo or the few guests (you) they seem to receive. Makes great stew, and even better roasted chicken, is absolutely immaculate when it comes to cooking bird.

He didn’t teach Wilbur or Techno shit! I wish I could say it’s because he wanted to but just couldn’t, but he was literally like “hmm. Im a little busy now, maybe next year” every year!! But, this being said, if you ask him to make something with you or teach you how to cook a particular dish, he will agree to help you. Old age has really mellowed him out, and after certain events, he realizes he needs to stay a bit closer to those he cares about from now on.

He likes sweets well enough, and will always thank you for any gifts you make for him. Along with growing older, he’s had time to lose his pickiness he had in his youth. If he does end up cooking with you, he’ll prefer doing the harder recipes over easy ones. He will lose it laughing if it turns out bad, so don’t worry about any disappointment (his children make up enough of that ^^).

(“Now,” Phil starts, washing his hands quickly as you wait for him next to the cutting board. “Pufferfish needs to be prepared perfectly, or we will die when we eat it. But I don’t need to explain to you how a pufferfish works, now do I?” 

When you shake your head no, he comes up behind you, tarnished wings bound and hair pulled up in a pony tail. 

“The meat of a pufferfish is very delectable, and much better with a glass of wine.” He grins cheekily, “ If this works out well, which I’m sure it will, dinner will be delicious.” 

It falls quiet for a second, and as your hesitantly looking over the fish that may be your last, you gasp when you feel him press up against you back and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe there’ll be other delicious things to eat as well,” He murmurs into you ear, before leaning back and busting out laughing. Your face feels stupidly hot. Dilfza quest activated.)

#3: Quackity-

Quackity:

Quackity can cook. I know!! I’d say he’s like the third best cooker on the list. And he’s not half bad at baking either.

He likes making up stupid bad recipes and trying them out with you, even if at the end of it the one of you up chucks your damned creations the hour after. Despite his reigning need for chaos though, he knows how to make a decent amount of recipes and strives for praise when he’s actually putting forward effort. He’ll arrange little dinner dates (“A handsome man and his very pretty friend, good food made by yours truly, and La Chona, what do you say, baby?”) and will sit there with a 🥺 look on his face until you tell him if you liked it or not.

He tries to act like he’s unaffected by your words, but even a small, “That was really good.” will make him turn red and giggle like a schoolgirl. He tries to play it off, but it’s easy to tell he loves the complements. Will also never tell you anything you make is bad. You are a deity descended upon  minecraft Earth and he is but your prettiest disciple who will uphold your honor and treat you like you should be treated!!!! But he’ll then promptly choose to help you with and guide you into cooking/baking better ^^; He loves you!

As for baking, he really likes making cakes because of how simple they can be. It helps calm him down when he can just slip into bake mode and follow a recipe and make something nice at the end of it. Speaking of, he also has a sweet tooth, but not quite as bad as Techno does. Any sweets or food you make for him is always eaten, and always held in high regard. Will try to entice you into feeding him 👀👀 so watch out.

(He’s doing it again. You try to avoid looking directly at the dopey lovesick smile Quackity has on his face at the moment, but as you lift the fork up, you get a better idea. 

You look at him (to which he seems to melt a little under your gaze), look at the fork, and then back to him, raising the piece of cake up to his lips. His expression turns flabbergasted and his blush deepens. 

He doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, until you nudge the cake close and flash him a smile. Then it’s like a switch has been flicked; he giggles, blushing, and eats the cake right off the fork. He’s gone back to smiling that silly smile again, this time even brighter, but it’s okay. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest when he begs you for another piece.)

#4: Schlatt-

Another cooker~! He specializes with formal dinners more than anything else, and adores a good steak.

During his presidency, he didn’t cook very often. Quackity and you had to keep him fed through most of it, and the memory of watching you cook in his kitchen while he looked over work papers at his dining table leaves a mark on him, sealing a new crave for domesticity that he hadn’t ever wanted before.

Sometimes he would cook though. You, Quackity, and Tubbo would all gather around and eat together every once in a blue moon, when Schlatt was sober and calm. It feels tense at the table but also not in a way? Schlatt always seems to be chillest during dinner, a mix of the alcohol wearing off and the emphatic family feel that comes with Tubbo, Quackity, and you surrounding him.

He loves cake! It’s one of the few desserts he’ll eat, but you have to watch him closely or he’ll gorge himself of the treat. Indulge him and invite him to make a cake with you, and it will be one of the most interesting bakes of your life. How Schlatt got three eggs to stick to the ceiling is beyond you, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s completely fucking sober and hamming up his own cluelessness. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for him hiding all the other eggs around your kitchen as well. How did he get one on the top of your door without it falling when you opened it? That’s between him and god.

Overall, a good 4th place on the list.

(“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Schlatt says, deadpanned, looking you right in the fucking eyes with an undisturbed egg sitting perfectly straight on his head. 

“Where are the eggs, Schlatt.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Schlatt.” 

“Yes.” 

The container you kept them in is completely empty on your kitchen counter, once full of eggs but now reduced to a desolate husk of its former glory. Speaking of former glories, your president turns around, arms crossed and stands there silently. 

You look around. Theres one in the door handle of in the pantry, another wedged between two slices of bread in your bread box, and- oh god. On the fucking ceiling. Three, stuck to the ceiling, unmovable. After a full minute of dead silence you manage a “What the fuck have you done?”, and Schlatt turns to look. 

“Oh hey. There they are.” Your mind turns into a rock, shatters, and crumbles into dust.)

#5: Dream-

Honestly if you’re looking for edible food that tastes range from ok to good Dream is your man. 5th place.

He knows a lot of ‘depression era’ type recipes just because he’s pretty homeless and his man hunts don’t allow him much time to hone his skills. Stuff like bread or mushroom stew comes easy to him after so many times of having to do it on the run. Bread is the only baking he won’t screw up.

Can cook meat well enough too, but doesn’t really do anything special to it (besides his sauces).

To elaborate: Over the unknown span of his life, he’s acquired these recipes for forgotten and questionable sauces that he’ll store in little jars and leave at your house for you to use. They’re odd, and the ingredients aren’t ever what you think might be edible, but they’re surprisingly tasty none the less. He likes to show you a new one every month or so to keep things fresh.

Pretty general about sweets, but has a severe love for chocolate, especially dark chocolate. Has never had one, but dreams about chocolate cake. It’s high on his bucket list and written another four times over.

One of his favorite things to do with you is bake, mainly because of how ruinous it always turns out. No matter your skill, Dream’s vibes decimates any luck the two of you will have while baking. It’s scientifically proven. You left the cupcakes in for a minute-JUST a minute over what they should’ve been and they came out rock solid. Dream tried to eat one anyway. Best part was watching him try to bite through the shell.)

(He thinks he’s over selling it, half-gnawing on the brown cupcake (it was supposed to be vanilla, he thought) and making stupid growls when his teeth barely break through the surface, but the feeling he gets when you start laughing hysterically next to him wipes away any negative thought he had and fills him with utter joy. 

It's very late into the night, and you’re both a little loopy, but all the while you still lean against him as you giggle, the spot tingling where your hand rests on his arm. 

His heart thumps crazily, before sinking. Oh god. He’s in love with you.)

#6: Technoblade-

Knows a lot, but very little. He can cook the meat perfectly fine, but there’s a difference between being cooked and tasting good. He doesn’t know how to season them. Salt is the bare minimum you get.

6th place ^^; sorry king.

He’s good with potatoes though. I like to think that the countless hours spent potato farming had to account for something. He likes having cheese and butter on them every once in a while, but for the most part just eats them salted like an animal. It’s practically a show to watch him eat a cooked potato in three bites without anything but salt on it.

Big man loves food though, even if he doesn’t eat like it. Steak and cooked fish are high on his list of foods, but only if it’s cooked by Philza. And eventually you fall into his “I trust to eat this from you” category as well, but he has a special place in his heart for Phil’s cooking. Rabbit stew is at the very top.

He also eats a lot, being 6’10 and 200 something pounds of muscle, gotta consume quite a bit to keep him moving.

As for the sweeter variety of food, he’s got a massive sweet tooth. The moment you make him an apple pie or honey candy or anything of the like, he’s immediately enamored with you. Sweet things are hard to come by on the smp, especially with how far out he lives, but it’s a secret weakness of his that is very easily exploitable.

(You’ll be the death of him, he thinks, watching you closely as you trudge your way through the freshly fallen snow towards his house. Your normal pack is lighter than it usually looks, and he worries that you may slip and hurt yourself on the ice before you make it to the door. But still, you keep walking until you're standing at his doorstep, fist raised to knock when he opens it for you. 

You look surprised for a second, and then a grin splits your face and his heart races. 

“I can’t stay for long,” you say, having spent at least 30 minutes to get there. “But I wanted to drop this off for you before you went out to hunt again.” 

Out of the bag, you pull another smaller leather bag and hand it to him gently. It rests heavy in his palm, and for a moment he’s sure it’s ender pearls that you’ve brought him. But still he opens it, and he’s immediately taken aback by the smooth golden candies you brought him. 

“They’re honey candies.” At this point you’re practically grinning. “I thought you might like some while I was making them last night.” 

He doesn’t have to see his own face to feel the deep blush setting in on his cheeks and ears. You…. you’re so…… sweet. You are very…. sweet, he admits to himself, and he is very not attached to you. Not at all.)

#7: Fundy and Sapnap tie.

Fundy- 

Has his old man's cluelessness but is a fast learner. He doesn’t have much time to expand his food repertoire so it’s pretty much the basic stuff that he’s eaten during the war or before that when he was younger.

He really likes cooking though, and will invite you to come cook with him for dinner or lunch if he wants to hang out. When they were together, Dream had given him an old dusty cookbook that had several recipes he hadn’t ever heard of before, so that’s where most of what he tries to make comes from. His favorite to date was a special mutton dish that he asked you to try with him on his last birthday. It was just the two of you, but he had never had so much fun before.

Doesn’t like eating fish however, there’s just some bad vibe he gets when he thinks about cooking one or catching one. (Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Despera-)

Loves sweet berries as treats, seeing as that’s the only sweet thing he grew up with. Not too big on other sweet flavors. Likes honey in his tea though.

7th place cooker, will get higher as he learns more dishes.

(He raises his wine high with a laugh, clinking your glass with it as you both giggle drunkenly. 

The lamb you had cooked together turned out amazing, juicy and tender and flavored with crimson fungus juice. The recipe was from an old cookbook he had, he faintly remembers telling you, hiding the fact that it was Dream’s cookbook that he was given after a particularly nasty argument. 

He doesn’t want to think about him, especially not while he’s with you. Especially not when it’s his birthday. 

So instead he ponders the trip through the nether he took with you to harvest some of the fungi, how the juice was tangy and slightly bitter, but how it had done wonders when basted onto the meat while frying. 

You had looked so happy when you two plated the dish, so proud of him, all in a way that Dream never was. 

Even now, as you tiredly smile at him from across the table, cheeks pink and eyes focused solely on the moment you were sharing, he feels at peace for once. This is what contentment felt like. Oh, how he loves you so.)

Sapnap-

Shame the shit cooker. Ok ok, he’s not as bad as some of the others on this list, but that’s just because he can make a half decent breakfast. It’s not much competition.

Bad has desperately tried to teach this boy some cooking besides eggs and toast, but the only things that seem to have stuck are mashed potatoes and grilled pork chops. Neither of which he even likes enough to make often.

He prefers fish to meat, and would eat any kind of cod you offered to him. Likes smoked salmon a lot, it’s something Bad made for him a lot when he was younger. He tries to recreate the dish, but comes up short and feels disheartened when it isn’t like Bad’s. He’d appreciate any time you took with him to learn how to make the dish, and it wholly sticks to his mind afterwards. He never forgets the experience, and treasures it very closely.

Likes not-sweet sweets. Not bitter per say, but just not very sweet. He likes chewy taffy in particular, but the old lady kind that lasts 60 years but gets hard in 6 minutes after being exposed to open air. Gotta be polite about it too, or he’ll end up embarrassed and pout for an hour.

(He’s eaten 6 of those fucking taffies since you sat down on the couch, completely straight-faced as the two of you of you listen to Dream and George talking. 

At this point you’re completely checked out of their conversation, solely focused on the taffy Sapnap keeps eating. Where does he even get those? How many does he have?? You’ve been friends with him long enough to have seen him pop a taffy every other second of the day. He seems to have a stash on him at all times tucked away, filled with paper-wrapped pastel covered sweets. 

“Want one?” Sapnap asks, holding out a light blue taffy with a little star drawn in yellow dye on the wrapper. 

“What?” Startled, you lean back a bit and realize you had been staring him down as he ate, and flush with how rude that probably seemed. 

“Want a taffy? I don’t mind sharing with you, cutie.” He winks and offers the taffy again. “....” You gaze at the taffy curiously. You’ve never seen him offer another person one of his precious taffies before. Hmm. “...Yes, thanks.” 

You take it delicately, unwrapping the wrapper and taking a bite of it experimentally. It’s very lightly sweet, soft and chewy and surprisingly pleasant. 

Sapnap watches you from the corner of his eye, softly smiling when he sees you eat the rest of it. Glad to see someone else has good tastes around here.)

#8. George-

Meager man makes a meager meal. I said what I said!!! This flatbread boy knows diddly squat, and the only things he can cook successfully are bread and mushroom soup. Which he will make. And that’s all he’ll make. Any food that isn’t that is cooked by either Bad or Dream, and he’s still picky about it.

He’ll make you the soup and bread ladies and gents. I’m not saying they’ll taste great together, but he will definitely make them for you. Anything else he’s pretty critical about, and he doesn’t care much for treats or dessert. He does occasionally like dark chocolate though, which he and Dream will beg Bad to make for them. Soon he begs you to make it for him, and then you have to go ask Bad how he makes it so George won’t complain about how it tastes different from Bads. It’s a weird situation. You make a lot of chocolate. Dream and George linger at your house for weeks on end until you get fed up and shoo them away with a broom.

To his credit, even though he can’t cook much, he’s really proud of his mushroom stew. Any time you let him cook, his go-to is his mushroom stew. He likes to feed you and know that you’re not hungry somewhere, and to top it off he gets to show you his prized dish; not Bad’s or Dream’s stew, but his. He’s cute or whateva…

(George places the bowl down in front you, stepping back and turning to grab his own, before sitting down next to you. He immediately begins to eat, and you give him a half glance as you bring the soup up to smell it. 

It… doesn’t smell that bad, actually. Not burnt, at least. You spoon some of the soup into your mouth. 

Despite all you’ve seen of George’s cooking, this is pretty well made. It’s nice and warm, and the flavors are rich and the mushrooms soft. You choose to ignore the small smile of his face next to you, and keep eating your soup quietly together.)

#9: Wilbur

Wilbur can’t cook for shit. Literally nothing. This man knows apples grow from trees and that animals are made of meat and that’s it.

You think Wilbur made any of his food when he was president or exiled or ever? Not a chance. He ate anything given to him, Tubbo and Tommy absolutely brought this man all the food they could find so he wouldn’t get eat straight trash or starve throughout the presidency. Techno slid him bare cooked potatoes in Pogtopia and he thought “oh this slaps….. this is the pinnacle of food”

Which I know, not really sexy. But! This means that the moment you feed him something a step up from a bare cooked potato he is in food heaven. He especially loves saucier kinds of foods with lots of flavor and spice to them, it’s just so fucking good. Food becomes his kryptonite after you feed this silly man.

With sweets, however, he isn’t that much of a fan. He does like those small lemon creme crackers, and you and da boys are the only ppl he’ll share them with.

(You hear him before you see him. The familiar clambering at your window draws your attention away from the pork you were dicing, and one look over your shoulder shows a disheveled but grinning Wilbur. 

“I hope I’m not too late for dinner.” He jokes, brushing off his pants before approaching you to press a kiss to your temple. Soon after that you hear another set of clambering, and two pairs of stomps reveals one Tommy and one Tubbo respectively. 

“What’s for dinner tonight, mate?” 

“Hope you don’t mind if we join in!” 

You sigh, turning back to hide your smile before they can see it.)

// Hope you enjoyed! I might write a pt2 of this later with some other ppl in it lol we’ll see :3

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Porcelain Doll

A/N: My first Steve story on Tumblr! And I think my first every Mafia AU for Steve ever... lets hope this goes well. Enjoy! Pairing: Mafia!Steve x F!Reader Word count: 2,909 Warnings: Mentions of weapons, swearing, angst.

(I don’t know the owner of this Gif, but it’s not mine. Just wanted to mention that.)

Being weaved within the world of mafia was a choice that you had willingly made.

When you said 'I do' you vowed to be with Steve til death do you part. Literally. Divorces were not only unheard of within the culture of bosses, it was a death wish. No secret could be leaked by an unhappy wife.

Granted, you had never dreamed of leaving Steve. The perfect man, who was stubborn at times, but you could always break past those barriers of ignorance he occasionally put up. In fact, you could bulldoze right through.

And you were the only one that could. Not Bucky, Sam, or Nat could compare to your ability to have that man breaking down every little secret he had stored in that mind of his. At the snap of your finger with him, your wish was his command.

You only had one duty to do, other than be faithful and loving to your husband: you had to oblige by mafia rules that were set for you. They weren't too overwhelming, it was a very limited amount. But it was enough so Steve could watch you like a vulture, if he wanted to.

And technically speaking, you could play his puppet whenever he pleased, and you wouldn't have the option to say no. He never enforced such power, always honoring your freedom and independence. But right now, he didn't have a choice.

"Babe, I need you to do this." He begged from behind his large wood desk, his study lit by antique lamps which cascaded their light onto polished mahogany surfaces.

"Steve, I will not be in another man's arms." You stated, fighting right back. Your arms over your chest, bottom lip easing out of it's hold with a pout.

"Sweetheart, you have to do this!" He elaborated, on the verge of defeat, his face now looking at the floor as his blue eyes scanned over his two feet, contemplating his next move.

"Do I have to though? Why not Nat, or- or someone else!" You threw your hands up in frustration. "I mean, seriously Steven, you cannot be for real right now-"

"Enough!" He rose his voice, the lion's roar booming through the room and ricocheting on the books and stained glass right into your chest. "You will be doing this. And you do not have an option." He emphasized, slamming his fist down. You flinched at the 'thump' that came as a result of the impact. He took a deep breath settling down, his gaze still facing downwards.

He took a few more breaths, moving his head up to meet your face. His eyes filled with a black void of heartlessness and atrocious intentions transitioned into a wave of calming blue, his pupils frantically searching your face as he realized he had scared you beyond your wildest thoughts. "Baby I-" He began but you stopped him soon after.

"I- I will do it." You choked out, your voice barely above a whisper, eyes filling with warm tears that began to fall gracefully down your cheeks, smudging your perfectly done makeup. You took a deep breath yourself, sniffling just a bit, before turning around and walking out of the study, arms now crossed tighter across your chest, and your feet setting off small pitter patters as you hurried yourself across of the rustic hardwood flooring.

Closing the grand doors behind you, Steve let out a sigh and a huff, turning around "Damn it!" He yelled, taking his large fist to the wall. He never intended to hurt you in any capacity, just like he never intended to punch that now crumbling hole in the plaster wall behind his desk, but mistakes happen. Only this was a grave mistake on his part.

You were rushing to your shared bedroom, quiet sobs leaving your mouth. Covering your face as best you could to try and prevent anyone from knowing, your ran up the glass stairs and to the second floor. "Y/N/N?" You heard Bucky's voice coo. You chose to ignore him and moved even faster than before to your room, where you locked the door. Crashing on the Egyptian cotton sheets, which swallowed you in great warmth and comfort, you sobbed into one of your sleeves, choosing not to subject your pillow to such a burden.

"What the fuck did you do?" Bucky marched into Steve's office, uninvited but not giving a thought to it. Looking behind where his boss and best friend sat, head in his hand, was the very hole in the wall Steve had just caused. “You idiot!” He scoffed, walking over and leaning over his desk. “Why was Y/N just running down the hall sobbing?” Steve took a heavy sigh, not looking up.

“I fucked up, big time.” Steve explained. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“So you told her?” He asked and Steve nodded. “How did you do it?” “How do you think, Buck?” Steve fired back.

“Judging by your crying wife and the whole in the wall, you fought.” “Yes, I fought.” He clarified, “I yelled at her. She fought back saying she didn’t wanna do it, I lost my patience.” “You stupid Punk.” Bucky laughed a bit, Steve looking up with a confused look, “You thought she would react any differently?”

“Well, maybe more cooperatively-” Steve began, but was interrupted.

“You’re asking your wife to go and flirt with your rival in a sleazy little dress that’s basically lingerie with a few pieces of fabric connecting it.” He sighed, “You’re asking the woman who loves you, who would literally die for you to go out with another man, and you expect her to be on board? If she reacted positively I would be more concerned.” “Well I didn’t think she would react positively, per se.” Steve rebutted, “Maybe just a little more willingly.” “You still don’t know a damn thing about women.” Bucky sighed, “You have the most loyal, loving, beautiful wife probably sobbing in bed right now because you scared the shit out of her. And you’re gonna sit here and just act like a fool?” He asked, “Why don’t you go apologize? That would be a good place to start.” “I probably should.” Steve leaned back in his chair, getting up and marching out.

He powered through your spacious and modern penthouse, making haste knowing the time was ticking. Approaching your bedroom door he took a deep breath, standing outside and giving it a soft knock. “Baby?” He cooed outside, leaning into the door to hear you soft sobs, “Doll?” He twisted the knob on the door, noticing it was locked. He sighed with annoyance. “Baby, c’mon now let me in.” “No.” You responded, holding your pillow in your lap like a child.

“Baby doll,” He softly said, “C’mon now, I just wanna apologize.”

“I said no.” You repeated again, this time more aggravation in your voice. He took a sigh.

“If you don’t willingly open this door up, I’ll open it up for you.” He warned. You huffed, still firm on your decision. “Fine.” He murmured, running back downstairs and into one of the side rooms, where he went in one of the drawers, picking up a key. Running right back, and up stairs, he placed the small metal object in the key hole, turning it and letting himself in.

You groaned, sitting back on the back of the bed, rolling your eyes. “Fuck you.” You spat out at him. He scoffed.

“C’mon babe, we both know you don’t mean that.” “Please,” You scoffed right back, “If I didn’t mean it then why did I say it?”

“Baby doll,” He sighed, smirking at you, “I love you. And I came here to apologize.” You pouted at him, keeping a straight face.

“Do you mean it?” You questioned, raising one of your eyebrows, looking at him. He nodded. “How do I know?” Your husband walked over to you, laying in bed on his side. You scooted further over to yours, trying to expand the space between you two.

“Baby,” He said softly, his words sounding like music to your ears, but you refused to look at him, “Sweetheart.” He said again, you still refused to move. He took your chin, softly in his large, warm hand. Moving your head to face his, he bent down and kissed you softly. Fireworks of tenderness exploded in your chest, as you hummed out of instinct. He smile lightly into the kiss.

“Because I love you, more than anything in this world.”

“Fine.” You reluctantly sighed, “I forgive you.” You stated, swallowing roughly. “I’m sorry I fought back, I should have gone with the plan.” “No, I understand why you did.” He nodded, “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you and let you see that side of me. You don’t deserve anything near that.” You nodded, leaning your head onto his shoulder. He tenderly kissed the top of your head, taking your smaller hand in his.

“How do you feel?” Bucky asked with a heavy sigh of disapproval as you looked in the mirror at this tiny black fabric that was a disgrace of a dress.

“Exposed, slutty, sleazy, whore-ish, should I continue?” You turned back to he and Steve, your husband clearly enjoying the view, taking his bottom lip in his mouth, “Hey!” You snapped at him, to which he escaped his trance, “Eyes on mine, not my ass.”

“C’mon now.” Bucky got up, sighing again in frustration. “We gotta go.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and walking out feeling beyond embarrassed for this apparel. A lot of mafia wives wore similar outfits to the one you had on, borderline stripper. You preferred classy and elegant, this was far from your cup of tea.

Getting out of the solid black car, you took a final deep breath, stepping out to begin playing your loose persona. Black pumps pattered on the ground as your walked into the mansion, your red lipstick curling up into a nice smile as you began greeting people.

The women were green with envy, their eyes filled with both red flames of jealousy and blue waves of fear. The men acted like dogs and pigs, looking you up and down like the cheap piece of meat you were acting out. You hated it, you truly did. Everything about the ordeal was already wrenching enough.

You were greeted by one of the server’s and a glass of much needed champagne. You wanted to down it, let the pain simmer away, but you slowly sipped as a proper lady would. Ironic with the outfit.

Looking around at the large ball room of people chatting, you finally found your target. His ridiculously untamed black hair, barely shaved face lined with wrinkles and harsh eyes were enough to let you know that was Brock Rumlow.

You walked over to him, a small smile on your face despite the pure growl underneath it. Making sure to jut your hips out a bit more, you immediately caught his attention.

“Well, well, well,” His voice echoed to you, as you kindly smiled now across from him, his suit not fitted well you noticed. “If it isn’t Mrs. Rogers.” “Please, Mr. Rumlow.” You played your character, “No formalities needed, Y/N, is just fine.”

“Hm,” He hummed with brief thought, “I thought the Rogers’ clan always took great pride in the name.” “Well,” You sighed, taking a sip of your drink, “Some things change.” “Oh?” He asked, “Like what?”

“Loyalty, trust, one’s pleasure.” You smirked, he clearly caught on. Fast.

“Pleasure, you say?” He inquired.

“You heard me right.” You sighed.

“So why’d you come to me?” He asked again, trying to act dumbfounded.

“You know why, Mr. Rumlow.” You stated. He hummed and nodded once.

“Follow me.”

He guided you through the winding whirlwinds of people, up one of the various grand staircases. Down the darkly lit hallway and into one of the bedrooms.

You didn’t want to jinx yourself, but so far this was too easy. Granted, it was Brock Rumlow. He was a loose cannon, the opposite of Steve. Steve ran a tight ship, the organization was established with concrete and stone foundations. Rumlow was some sticks put together. He left paper trails and greasy fingerprint all over his business, leaving Steve a laundry list of reasons to get rid of his rival.

His hands grabbed your hips, and as much as you wanted to pull away, you had to let him have you, if even for the next minute. You pretended to be okay, but no enjoyment was very much visible. He didn’t seem to notice. His hands reached down along your curves, moving and grabbing your ass. You could feel his breath reach your face, his lips inches away from yours.

It all happened so fast. One moment you were about to engage in a kiss with a man you despised, the next you were held at gunpoint in a headlock by the very same man. You opened you eyes calmly, looking around to see a dozen of Steve’s men from all angles, guns pointed at Rumlow’s head. The cool point of the weapon was on the side of your head, your hands tightly at your sides. “Let her go, Rumlow.” Steve walked in, staring at him. “If you wanna make it out alive, let her go.”

He harshly laughed, “Oh please,” He stated, “It’s not like I’d want to make it out alive by your dirty hands anyways.” “I’m pretty sure I’m not the one stealing other peoples property.” He barked, “So stop touching mine.” You remained calm, keeping your breath steady just like Steve had always told you to do.

The room fell silent. You could feel Rumlow’s fingers move on the gun ever so slightly, prompting you to know he was cocking it. With one easy move, you took your left elbow, smashing it into his chin behind you. He fell back with a groan, gun being thrown which you managed to catch with ease, like Nat had taught you. Cocking it yourself, you pointed it at the man now on the ground.

Looking back, Steve stood in partial awe and confusion at the site. You with the very gun you were threatened with now pointed at your attacker. “Take ‘em.” Steve stated, as numerous men went and grabbed him up, tying him with duct tape as he wailed for help. You walked over to Steve as he walked over to you, his fingertips tracing your jawline, “Are you alright?” He asked, face turning to concern. You nodded.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He grabbed your waist, giving you a deep kiss, using one of his hands to run it through your once perfectly done hair.

“Where did you learn that?” He muttered, you lightly laughed.

“Nat.” You smirked into his ear.

“Doll you could’ve hurt yourself-” “Steve.” You insisted, placing one of your hands on his chest, “I’m not a porcelain doll. I married into mafia, I can’t be.” He sighed, looking away only for a brief moment of thought before turning back to you.

“I know you’re not.” He muttered, “I’m just worried.” You nodded.

“I know.” You caressed his cheek with your hand, “You always are.” You both lightly laughed, smiling at each other and lost in each other’s passion for one another despite little to no conversation taking place.

“Uh, hey boss.” Sam walked in somewhat awkwardly, knocking on the door. Steve turned around, hands still placed on your hips as your attention was now on Sam as well, “We might wanna go, like, now, so no one suspects anything.” “Yeah, right.” Steve dropped his hands from you, grabbing one of yours to lead you out one of the secret back doors and into one of the cars. You squeezed in next to Steve, him placing a hand on your thigh lovingly.

“So, when do I get a raise?” You gazed out the window at the various cars passing by.

“Your raise?” Steve scoffed, “What raise?” You sighed heavily.

“I did most of that job for you.” You rolled your eyes. “Got the target, took his weapon, got him on the ground.”

“Doll, it wasn’t that easy-” “It seemed that easy.” He sarcastically laughed.

“You’re insatiable sometimes.” He rolled his eyes.

“Using big words now, are we?” You turned to him, “I could use a bigger pay too.” “Fine.” He gave in, “What do you want.”

“A long weekend, just you and me, no work, in Napa Valley.” He gave you a confused look, “You heard me.” “Doll that’s a little much don’t you think-” “Four days.” “Sweetheart-” “Five.” “Honey I can’t-” “Six.”

“There’s not even that many wineries, I-” “One week.” “Fine!” He huffed, “One fucking week in Napa, no work no nothing. Excluding emergencies, where I will make it up to you somehow. Good enough?”

“Nat and Bucky need to be there too.” You retorted, “Staying at a different house, keep in mind.” “Babe, where will they stay?” “Steven, you have three houses out there, figure it out.” You scoffed.

“Fine. But that’s it.” He began, “This is your reward for your hard work.”

“Hard work? I would describe it more as flawless.” He eyed you, shooting a glare. “I love you.” You kindly smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Now when we get home you’re gonna plan that trip, right?” “What do you mean I-” “Well, it’s not like it’ll plan itself.”