#so of course my dumb ass was like 'i don't want anyone to go through that' and donated

[thebearme]

I got mad so I projected on to Mike

I FUCKING HATE SCAMMERS

[luvyeni]

( reaction ) yandere enha when they find you ! ୨୧ 一 엔하이픈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ enhypen finding you after you run away ヾ

yandere!엔하이픈 hyungline・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ horror ‎, angst ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎stalking , kidnapping , threats wc ・ ‎n/a ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. another request my dumb ass deleted ◉⁠‿⁠◉ ...

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 i hope you like it <3

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

he knew were you were the entire time; i've said this many of times , heeseung is crazy and he loves to play crazy mind games — games such as making a fake a dating account just to find you and match with you. he will literally wait it out , swipe through as many girls as he had to until he found you. you were excited to get back into dating , the guy you were talking to was completely different to heeseung , getting ready for your first date with him , everything felt like a breath of fresh air. at the restaurant you were looking down at your phone , not noticing the familiar sitting down with that crazy smile. “is that anyway to greet your date?” your eyes shot up. “hee-heeseung?” your voice shaking as you see him holding his phone — with the account of the guy on the screen. “did you really think you could run away from me?” he laughed , your eyes began to tear up.

“no don't cry baby, we'll still have a good night before i take you home and give you your welcome home gift.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jay﹚ .ᐟ

a serious inconvenience for him , he gives you everything and you dare leave him? okay that's fine , he'll let you have your fun , he won't even cancel the credit card he gave you , because that's exactly how he was gonna catch you. he waited until you order a purchase offline , and he was able to get the details to your new apartment a month later — normally he'd just send his guys to come get you ,but this time he wanted to be the one to drag you back home. “j-jay.” you saw the man in the suit standing in your door. “you try and run away from me , but you use the card i pay for to make your stupid little purchases. “jay please.” he doesn't want to hear it. “you've cause so much trouble already, people are already talking about how I can't control you.”

“now let's go, I'll have someone come and pack your shit.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

it was basically a miracle that jake was still alive , he barely did anything since you left , he only ate to stay alive , he only showered just in case you walked through the door. it had been two months since you left him , yelling how much you hated him before running out the door , leaving the sobbing boy on the floor. he was fully ready to take his life — but almost as if god was on his side , you come walking out of your favorite store. you had finally felt safe enough to go out and shop , jake hadn't tried to call you , of course you tried not to worry if he actually did end it all but you never got a call. you walk right past jake , you didn't even notice him that's how different he looked. jake followed you home , all the way up to your door , where he finally runs up to you. “yn!” he shouted. “yn why'd you leave me?” you try to open the door, but the look in his eyes. “j-jake.”

“please come home , i don't know how much longer i can do it without you.”

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon﹚ .ᐟ

sunghoon was too impulsive to let you go on for more than a month , so you quite literally have to go into hiding , never leaving your apartment; even moving from the apartment he knew about to another one , one you thought he'd never find — boy how wrong you were. still held up in your apartment , constantly looking at the door. one day you finally feel a little a peace , not enough to leave, but enough to order your favorite food. you heard a knock , which makes you get up and go towards it. you still check the camera you installed and what you see outside makes your blood run cold. “hi baby.” the boy bangs on the door. “i found you.” he said. “sung-sunghoon.” you stuttered out. “don't dare pick up that phone and call anyone.” he said , leaning closer to the camera. “you moved but your parents haven't.”

“now open the door if you love them.”

©LUVYENI

[berrieluv]

cw. squirting, fingering, kitchen sex, unrequited feelings, a bit of angst?, dom remus, remus is a sweetheart.

doctor!Remus Lupin x fem!Reader summary: Remus is hot, and tall and unbelievable good at sex. The fact that he's a pediatrician is just a plus.

Remus Lupin was tall and handsome, his light brown curls falling against his forehead every time he thrusted inside of you.

"Fuck..." You moaned. He was so unbelievable hot. "Oh, God" Remus took your cheeks with his hand and forced you to look at him, with that smirk of his that let you know he was looking for trouble.

"Yeah? This good, baby?" But he knew he didn't even need to ask, because the lewd sounds your pussy made every time he fucked you was enough, you wanted to think no one has ever been this wet before so he would think twice before letting you go "You can't talk, bunny? Did I fucked you dumb?"

"Fuck, you'resohot"

You moaned as fast as you could articulate the words. Remus just laughed at you and kept his movements, throwing himself next to you when your pussy was already full.

"I love filling you up, bunny"

And you smiled stupidly "Never have to worry about using condoms with me..." You stood up with your arm, looking at his dreamy face with his eyes closed "I just love to be filled up"

He smiles and takes a deep breath; "You're the best" He says while standing up from your comfortable bed, leaving you all whinny and pouty "I have to go. I'm late for work" He kisses your forehead and you loose yourself in your mind for a moment, because if this is just sex, why would he share such an intimate kiss with you.

Yeah, a forehead kiss was way more intimate than sex. You could have sex with anyone, it didn't mean anything, sex was just a way to fee our passion. But a forehead kiss, it was a sign of protection and love, it was a way to keep the words inside your mouth while saying at the same time: "I care about you". So why would he kiss you and then just call you only for sex "I'll be back later, that good?" You nod "Or you could go to my apartment. Whatever suits you best"

You nod again and he smiles, this time kissing your lips and finally walking away. He couldn't love you, not like you do love him at least.

It was easy to have sex at Remus' apartment. He would never kick you out, he was too much of a gentleman for that, and if he was in a rush to go at least he would invite you to have breakfast somewhere near where he worked.

You didn't know where it was, what he does, you just know every time he takes you out for food is near the place he works. Then he gives you money for an Uber because is just faster than him taking you all the way there.

And it wasn't like you two were in a relationship either. Lately he allowed you to stay at his place, you thought it was another way of intimacy as well, the soft lip kisses, the forehead kisses and the fact that the receptionist from his building knew you were allow to have the spare key.

So when you say; Sex at Remus' is better. What you really mean is, kitchen sex, bathroom sex, couch sex, hell, even the balcony sex was amazing. Things you couldn't do with roommates but you could definitely do at his apartment.

You wasted no time on taking your clothes off as soon as you heard the door being open, you walked to the kitchen, because well, you felt like doing it on the kitchen.

Remus looks at you once he's finally in and hugs you.

A hug? What were you, a couple? You wish.

"Hi, angel"

He says, and before you could respond he turns your body around so your ass could be against his growing erection. His hands start to work their way through your pussy and his other hand goes straight to your boobs. Because of course they will.

"How was work?"

You ask, knowing there was not going to be an answer. Because Remus and you don't have that kind of relationship. Instead he shushes you with a passionate kiss, leaning you over the kitchen counter and you think a little about how beautiful and clean his kitchen is, you could see yourself living here, really.

Being his pretty housewife, you would even wear an apron with no other clothes above. Yeah, that's exactly the life you picture yourself living, and it didn't seem bad for a bit.

A spank brings you back to reality and Remus takes your leg, you really don't know when he took his trousers off but he was working his way into your already wet pussy.

"You seem a bit distracted..." He comments after starting to move his hips, you respond with a moan, holding yourself to the counter, starting to beg for him to go faster "Just like that, angel. That's how I like my girl, all loud and messy"

He's just thrusting inside of you, you know that, but he holds your hips in such a way that you need to establish yourself. Anyone could do that but, God, not anyone could make it feel like Remus does.

"You wanna say something, baby?" He asks when you start to moan louder. Remus also loved sex at his place, because you were loud and shameless.

Your boobs were jumping against the counter while Remus hand lied now on your back, forcing your cheek against the cold marble.

His thrusts were faster and he had both of your hands against your back held with one of his hands while the other one was trying to make you wetter, as if that was even possible.

You don't even try to think anymore, anything Remus' wanted he would force your body to do, allowing you to just relax and enjoy the pleasure.

"Can you cum for me, pretty girl?" You moan "Can you, angel? My angel?" He mocks.

Every one of his thrusts made your mind simply blow as he fucked you. He freed your hands wasting no time on holding your body up, your back against his chest, angrily taking your face and forcing you to look at him.

"You just look so pretty" He says, smiling "I just need one kiss" And your eyes are glossy from the pleasure and your mind can't catch orders but it doesn't matter. Remus takes your face so your lips can impact against his "Ow, my pretty girl. I know you're long gone. That's fine, I'll take care of you. Just cum for me, alright?" His pace became sloppier and lazy as he felt his orgasm building "What has gotten into you, hum? I usually take a few more out of you before you're like this"

Remus only allowed himself to really groan only when he emptied his load inside of your wet pussy, filling you way more in one orgasm that many of your ex-lovers.

The good thing about Remus is that he may finish first, but he always makes you have the best time. There was two ways it could go, he obliged himself to last long, or he would succumb to his needs, either way he never let you down that easily.

He could go for hours if he wanted, and in your short sex-relationship you've done it against any surface belonging to his home, he made you cum multiple times and he made sure you could see the moon and the starts before cleaning you up to a good sleep.

However, Remus doesn't want to push you too far today, seeing the sensitive space you were now, crying every time he tried to stop this to check on you, poor boy, he was so worried. He didn't know you only wanted to please him.

Remus pulls out of you quickly, and before you could complain his fingers are filling your cum loaded pussy up. He makes you scream with the ferocity he moves them in and out of you, hitting all the right spots, making your back arch against his chest, and if it wasn't for his strong hand holding you, you would've collapsed against the floor.

You moan, loudly and shamelessly, just how Remus liked it. Your head falls into his shoulder and you look exhausted, but Remus can't let you go like this, not without an orgasm at least.

"Remus, Remus please stop, stop that's too much, too much" Your pleads don't seem to make much to him while his lips kiss your temple. "Please, please"

But; please, what?

"You can do it, angel" He says.

You feel a bit dizzy as the pleasure hugs your body completely, forgetting you're still on earth, on Remus' kitchen to be exact. It's an overwhelming sensation it doesn't even feel real but you don't want to stop it, neither do you have the energy to do so.

You feel Remus smirking against your scalp after chuckling at, you? You find the reminds of your energy and autonomy to force your eyes open. You feel Remus' cock hard again against your lower back. The fingers that were once inside you are now in front of your sight, and you open your mouth, hearing Remus' praise as you lick his long, thick fingers.

"That's the hottest thing I've ever done" He says, kissing your head again "You are the hottest thing I've done" He chuckles.

"What?" you mumble against his fingers. Tiredly leaning against Remus, knowing you didn't had it in you to stand.

"The squirt, angel" He pouts, mocking your expression "You didn't notice?" No? Well, you felt wetter than other times once you reached your orgasm, but you would have known. You lazily direct your eyes to the floor, watching the soaked drawers and the white floor shining more than it usually does.

"I soaked your kitchen" You pout and Remus does too, smiling a seconds later at you.

"Yeah, we'll get them change, angel. Don't worry" Who's we "You didn't realized you squirted?" You frown, not at the last question but who the fuck was we? "Guess I'll have to do it again, hun? But tonight it's time for a shower"

A shower sounded good, you wanted lots of showers at Remus place. You wanted Remus bed, you wanted your toothbrush next to him and his half-empty cabinets full of your stuff.

By the time you woke up Remus wasn't there. As usual since he got confident enough to let you alone at his apartment. You knew he kissed you goodbye, you felt it like a fever dream all the time, a sensation enough to be felt but not strong enough to wake you up to reality.

You saw Remus' wallet in the bed-side table, personally, you knew better than check it and try to return it to him, at his job, where he doesn't want you. But again, you were delusional, and wouldn't a girlfriend do that job? You had sex with him, you were just one step far from being.

"A pediatrician" You say as soon as you see his card "You have to be fucking kidding me"

Because not only Remus Lupin was tall, handsome, with a stable economy to start a family or take care of the house for you to live comfortable enough, incredible good at sex, he was also good with kids.

And you could've live it there, you found out something, doesn't mean you have to see it with your own eyes.

That's why you were definitely not walking to his job. And by the time you could think better of it you were already knocking on the yellow door with a silver plate scripted with "Dr. Lupin".

"Hey, Y/N?" He says as soon as he sees your small figure – but compared to him who wouldn't be –. "What are you doing here?"

"You forgot your wallet" You say, extending the leather square to him, and he smiled softly.

"Thank you, Y/N"

You couldn't help but feel disappointment, because alone you were never Y/N. You were his angel, his pretty girl, his baby. And now you were just, ugh, you never hated your name more.

"Um, this is... your job. Cool, cool, cool"

"It's just a job" He chuckles "I don't want you to feel different about anything, alright?" He again kisses your forehead "See you tonight?"

"Yeah, sure" You quickly answer "I was thinking maybe we could... You know, go out?"

"Sure, go out"

"Like, like in a date" You dig deeper into your words "Like people who, you know, like each other?"

"Oh, Y/N" He says. And he says it with such pity you want to cry and disappear and erase this moment from your memory. "I don't like relationships. They're not my thing. I told you this"

He did "Yes, but..." I just thought I could make you change your mind. But you don't say that "But I like you, I thought it would be fun"

Fun? You thought it would be amazing, you thought it would be Cornelia Street except it would just be the place he'll take you out for dinner. You thought it would be Begin Again but this was The Story of Us and Happiness all over again in your love life.

"Sorry"

You bite your lip trying to hold the tears and nod. Excusing yourself from his consulting room and walking the worst walk of shame, trying to hide your face from literal toddlers and their moms.

Already planning in your mind how you would drown yourself in misery. And how you would get the strength to ignore Remus' calls, if he calls.

Trying to scape Remus was really similar to that movie, Mission Impossible, the one with Tom Cruise. Because who would tell that getting sexually involve with someone who's not directly in your friend group, but knows many of your friends, would be a bad idea?

Definitely no one.

"Y/N?"

You panic when you hear that velvet voice, so calm and with just the right amount of happiness he always sounds. You look at him, completely frozen and your legs start walking the opposite direction without you realizing it.

Marlene stops you the moment he sees you, watching Remus walk to you and you escaping like a little kid would do when they did something bad.

"What's wrong?"

You push her into the closet and nock the two of you inside, shushing her the moment she opens her mouth and the blonde woman can't be any more confused and regretting her life, because she didn't want to ever, ever, get involved with Remus romantic life, and here she was.

"Y/N? Listen, I know you're here. I'm sorry, right? I'm only here because I knew you would be here. This is totally not my thing..."

"He's lying" Marlene says, a playful grin on her face "Men are such liars, angel. Don't listen to him"

You frown at the pet-name and look at the door.

"Hi, Marlene" He says.

"Hi, Remus"

"Y/N?" you pout and look at your friend. She just shrugs and begs for you to let her go, and you finally open the door to see Remus handsome face, his hair messy for a doctor and his face recently shaved.

"Don't do this, Remus" You plead, watching as Marlene walks away with a thumbs up not sure if it's for him or you. "You can't come back now thinking i will be just waiting for you, you know?"

"No, I really want to be with you" He chuckles but your lower lip jolts.

"I don't want to be your sex toy, Remus" in a really low voice, and if he wasn't so obsessed with you he would never hear it "I'm sorry, it's late"

"Well, I had to try at least" He smiles and walks closer to you, kissing your forehead "I'm really sorry it took me so long to realize that I... like you too"

"Don't do that. You're trying to play with my head" You say, getting defensive of the kicked puppy look he was giving you "Well, you need to fuck me first for you to accomplish that"

This time you say it loud, and the whole party seemed to stay silent for that bit, Remus felt his cheeks turning pink, and he didn't know why, clearly he was the one who fucked the most among his friends.

He was in med school, for God sakes. You don't make it out of there sane without tons of sex.

"Angel, can we talk in private?"

"No" You yell in a low voice "No, Remus, we can't. And you can't call me that either. What am I supposed to think? That out of nowhere you want a serious relationship now? With me? That you want to make it work?"

Remus feels the need to stop your verbal vomit with a kiss, and he does, because it feels like the right time, the building up to a big romantic moment the girls always want. But not in the context where you were standing.

A kiss like that felt sexual. It didn't feel intimate and tender as a forehead kiss, it felt desperate, hungry, he wanted your body more than he wanted you.

"Please, leave me alone"

You murmur, pushing him away from you and trying to walk out of his sight but you can't, your heart doesn't allow it, you want to be with him. He broke your heart so this shouldn't be this hard but it was.

He stood there, not moving, just waiting for you to do something, not wanting to leave you alone but also wanting to respect your space, and your wishes.

You look at him in defeat, crossing your arms and he smiles. Your legs make their way to him again and you stand in front of him, impossibly tall, impossibly handsome, just him.

"You like me?" He nods, not sure of what to say "Like really, really like me?"

"I'm utterly obsessed with you"

"Then kiss me"

You murmur, and he's not sure if he should because the last one ended with you mad at him but you were there, looking so pretty, shiny eyes due to the tears and the lights of the party giving you a different aura from the one he always sees you under. He takes your face and kisses your lips, it's the same kiss as the last one but he doesn't feel sure. He feels scared that he may ruin this and that you would run away from him and that somehow makes you feel sure of your choice.

Remus lets you rest your head on his chest and you turn your face to look at him, he smiles and kisses your forehead while hugging you even harder right now than he usually does after sex.

"Thank you?" You chuckle and you nod, making fun of him for the first time "Don't laugh at me, you little vicious angel"

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 1: Rimming

Paring: Kakashi Hatake x male reader

This guy

Warnings: Rimming DUH, anal fingering, teasing, slight begging, little bottom twinky fuck me daddy feminine male reader, no actual sex, enemies to lovers? I think that's it

Word Count: 1,307

Fuck him. Fuck his pretty silver hair that I just want to run my hands through while he eats my ass, his muscular form that must have been crafted by the sage of six paths himself, his beautiful attention catching eye, his mysterious mask, his (what I hope is) insanely large dick. Just fuck the whole thing (I wish).

Of course, the only person you could be thinking of is the one and only Kakashi Hatake, copy ninja of the leaf, and the hottest mother fucker to ever exist. Oh god did you have an obsession with him. Having wet dream after wet dream about him, screaming his name while masturbating, and it doesn't help that you catch him staring at you all the time almost as much as he catches you staring at him.

This whole obsession started a month ago when you saw him reading one of his goddamn sex books in the middle of the street. You walked over to him and asked why he was reading erotica in a VERY public place, and he just looked at you "Because it's hot." he stated matter-of-factly. The nerve of some people, from then on you two would see each other walking around, say hi, go your respective ways. It's been that way ever since; stolen glances and fuck me eyes since.

Until now. You were done with man after man not fulfilling you like you think he may be able to, maybe, it's a complete guess but he just gives off the vibe. Anyway, you saw him reading his demented sex shit again when you decided to make your fantasies a reality once and for all. You walk behind the bench he was sitting on and read the words on the page and HOLY SHIT IT'S GAY RIMMING. You mentally scream into the pillow like a 15-year-old girl who just found out her crush is available, which is kind of like what's going on.

"Uhm, can I help you?" Kakashi questions in his horny inducing voice, with a little annoyance sprinkled in through all the underwear wetting.

"Oh sorry, am I disturbing a public jack off sesh." You coldly state with a smirk on your face, hand doing a little masturbation gesture.

"Do you mind." he says rhetorically, the twinge of annoyance from earlier much more noticeable now.

"If you didn't want someone to talk to you then why are you reading 'that' on a public bench in the middle of the street again?" you sassily question.

"Because I wanted to read outside, privately." He answers, you look at him like he's the dumbest man in the whole world.

"Then why, in the absolute fuck, are you reading in the street you attention whore." you rhetorically ask, the previous sass now developed into genuine frustration as you walk around the bench to be right in front of him.

"That's cute coming from you." he chuckles.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" you ask.

"Don't act dumb, you have been trying to get into my pants for weeks now." he exclaims, you start to blush, ensuring that what he said is true.

"Don't act so high and mighty with me. I've seen you look at me too bitch." you state. He stands up, his large frame completely dwarfing you, his eyes almost angry. You do a cartoonish and audible gulp, the fear enhancing the horniness.

It's quiet for a while until he leans down,

"And what of it" he whispers in your ear and grabs you ass tightly, not caring if anyone sees. You let out a soft yelp at the sudden sign of attraction. You're completely stunned, not knowing what to do. He realizes this and before you can think any more, he holds you close and grabs your ass tighter and whispers,

"My place." It wasn't even a question or a request, it was a demand. One that even given the choice you wouldn't say no to.

Before you know it you're already on your way to Kakashi's place. He's giving you a piggyback ride to save time, and because he wants that juicy cake as quickly as possible, his mind is going crazy with your legs wrapping around him.

Finally, you make it to his place and immediately you both rush into his room. Right when you both enter you get off his back and onto the bed. Your legs spread as he takes off both your pants and underwear and tosses them both to the side.

"Now, turn around and bend over." already making demands and he hasn't even bought you dinner yet, not that you care because without a single moment of hesitation you are already on your hands and knees.

Without warning he immediately put his long skilled digit into your readily awaiting hole. He moves slowly as he starts to open you up. All the while you let out quiet moans.

"Your little moans are so cute." he said. Suddenly you feel a second finger enter you. He stays at the same excruciatingly slow pace. While he's pumping his fingers, he starts to feel the rest of your ass, rubbing it sensually and squeezing at the sensitive skin.

He puts in the third finger and his speed starts to pick up. Now your moans start to get louder as his three fingers stay at a steady and quick speed. He pumps them in and out over and over with precise repetition.

his fingers start to curl inside you, twisting and turning inside you perfectly. It's at this point that you are officially a moaning mess. The all too familiar feeling churns into your stomach. His fingers start turning and hitting your sweet spot consistently.

Then the feeling of relief washes over you as his fingers twist and hit your spot for the final time. You let out a loud moan and crash into the bed, cumming without even him putting his dick in you.

But he wasn't satisfied with just feeling inside you as he picked you up and brought you to your hands and knees again.

"Not yet sweetheart." he says as he starts to rub and massage your ass cheeks, caressing them to his desire. He gives you a quick and sharp spank, you cry out in pleasure from the surprise as he watches you ass jiggle in awe.

He puts his mask down and licks your ass, putting small and harmless love bites from time to time. Each lick and bite getting closer and closer to your hole. You start begging him to just devour you already. "Please, god I've fantasized about this please." you cry out, wanting, no, craving for his tongue.

"Well since you asked so nicely." he calmly states, though you can tell the excitement in his voice, aware that he wants this too. He licks lines on your cheek until FINALLY taking small licks on your entrance. Your spine chills in anticipation and pleasure and your breathing becomes shaky.

He licks languid circles on your entrance slowly. His hands are still caressing the rest of your ass. Your legs are shaking due to the stimulation and your cock is as hard as can be. He stops his simple licking and finally puts his tongue in your ass.

It starts off slowly but develops quickly into a fast pace, his tongue going in and out of you. You are now officially a moaning mess as his tongue is assaulting your hole. He continues this and then starts to put his fingers back in your hole while his mouth is still doing its job.

The familiar feeling in your stomach starts to build up again as his talented hands and mouth works on your asshole. Your moans crescendo until finally you climax for the second time of the night.

And you're not done yet.

THE END

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

Someone asked me to write Lucifer's take on "Bitch what's for dinner?!" Soooo...

First, Lucifer saying it to you.

He sees it somewhere online and at first is like, "this is dumb" but then he thinks about it. He knows his relationship with Lillith was rocky but he'd never once raised a hand or voice to her, but he's The Devil from The Bilble, so he has a reputation, undeserved or not. He wants to see how safe you feel with him and make sure you don't have like, an ingrained response to take treatment like that, and he's too awkward to just talk about your relationship like a normal person.

Honestly thinks you've probably already seen the video and that you'll laugh it off or playfully smack him ans then you guys can talk. So when he storms into the kitchen at the Hotel, pretending to have just gotten into an argument with Alastor, and snaps at you, his horns growing a bit, "Bitch, what's for dinner?!" He's not expecting you to look shell-shocked.

He thinks its because that was so out of character for him and you're just stunned but then you just quietly look down and respond "grilled cheese?", like you're expecting him to reprimand you the whole act goes out the window. He's in your space, not touching you yet, and babbling apologies, practically on his knees. Eventually you catch on that he was joking and hug him and ask him please not to do that again.

He agrees immediately and follows it up with, "Of course! And, lovely, darling, light of my life, if I, or anyone, ever talks to you like that, you better smack the shit out of them. Or, like if it's someone else, I'll knock their ass out. Seriously, don't ever let me treat you like that."

You do it to Lucifer.

You saw the video online and thought it would be funny. After all, there's no way the KING OF HELL would take that. You set your phone up to record secretly and brace for some sort of sassy response, slamming your hand down on the counter next to him for dramatic effect.

"Bitch, what's for dinner!?"

Lucifer's wings pop out, ruffled, defensive, hissing like a cat, long forked tongue dripping fire. Once he realizes it's you, he blinks, frowns, and makes himself small.

"Uh...I...I can make grilled cheese? Are you mad at me? Did I forget a date? Was I rude to you on accident? What did I do, I can fix it."

Oh, oh no. You're crumpled. This poor man. You're holding him, petting his ruffled wings, apologizing through tears because of course he didn't do anything wrong. You tell him it was a dumb internet trend, that you didn't think about how it could upset him, you're so sorry and won't do it again and eventually he calms down and kind of laughs it off. It was an honest mistake.

You don't let it go so easily, and cup his cheeks, forcing him to meet your eyes. "Don't you ever let anyone talk to you like that, not even me. Anyone talks to you like, you better smite the fuck out of them. Full fire and brimstone. Nothing left. Dust. Ash. Obliterated. Understand?"

He thinks it a bit excessive of a response, especially if you're including yourself, but he agrees anyway, practically swooning at your protectiveness.

[hitomisuzuya]

Hiiiii now, before I request anything I just wanted to say that I love your writing, it’s so good and Scara somehow almost always feels in character despite yk it being smut lol and it’s hard to keep characters in character when doing that (from what I’ve seen at least)

Alr now for the actual request, literally just anything with stepbrother Scara, I don’t know why I like that idea so much, but I think that it’s like a taboo topic but also that it’s like akdhdkdjdid anyways-

I hope this ask or whatever you wanna call it finds you well :3

Stepcest. DNI if it makes you uncomfortable. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Face sitting. Squirting. Cunnilingus. Degradation. Pussy drunk Scara.

Happy Easter to everyone who celebrates. And thank you, anon❤️ Writing Scara in character is important to me, and I constantly worry whether I am or not.

A rush of aroused pride went straight to Scaramouche's pulsing cock feeling your hole clench around just the tip of his tongue. The long, husky groan that vibrated on your cunt as his tongue lapped, prodded at your entrance was enough to say that he was enjoying himself, and enjoying you.

His precious delicate stepsister deserved to be spoiled. He was going to enjoy breaking you. Reducing you to a dumb and moaning mess with his tongue, your thighs tightening on either side of his head as he fucked his tongue into you was what you deserved.

Your fingers tightened on the headboard, your other hand reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. It gave you leverage to grind down into his mouth.

You threw your head back, grateful that there wasn't anyone else home to hear you. You couldn't hold back your loud moans that bordered sounding pornographic that spilled from your mouth as Scaramouche latched his lips on your clit.

He watched your body twitch in pleasure above him, struggling to hold yourself up as your back arched. His mouth felt insatiable sucking on your clit, making your legs shake and broken sobs softly sound behind your moans.

"That's right, slut. Cry about how you are about to squirt on your stepbrother's tongue," Scaramouche moaned, releasing your clit with a wet pop as he caressed your thighs. His thumbs skimmed lovingly on the insides, damp with his drool and your slick.

Drunk on the taste on the taste of you, he reached around to roughly grope your ass. You yelped in bliss as he smacked it once. He moaned muffled into your cunt, his nose brushing against your sensitive clit, "You taste so fucking good."

You could barely even beg coherently for him to let you cum. You saw stars as pleasure burst white hot behind your eyes, his tongue sweeping to swirl inside of you as deep as it could go.

"I'll..I'll--" You stumbled on your words, making him laugh dark with delight. "I'll be a good girl, I promise. Make me cum, please!" You pleaded, feeling your orgasm ready to break over you any moment now.

"Aww, don't worry, kitten. You'll get your permission to cum. When I have had my fill, of course," He snickered. He smirked hearing you cry out as he slowly prodded his tongue against your clit.

Your hand tightened in his hair, grinding needily into his mouth. "You said you would be a good girl, right?" He purred, enjoying seeing a few tears fall from your pretty eyes.

You lasted as long as you could, and Scaramouche relished watching you fall apart and cum suddenly. His tongue lapped and slurped greedily as your release soaked onto his tongue.

Scaramouche nursed you through your orgasm for a few minutes before patting your thighs. No sooner had you rolled off and onto your back, not even having come down from your orgasm he was spreading your legs again.

Your hips automatically jerked up to grind into his mouth, his tongue going right back onto your cunt. He wasn't going to let you get away with cumming without his permission.

[rhey-007]

*+:｡.｡ 𝕮𝖔𝖗𝖓 𝕸𝖆𝖟𝖊 ｡.｡:+*

FP Jones x reader | 18+ SMUT

Summary: after saving your brothers ass from serpents, you get a pleasant surprise from FP

Warnings: 18+, smut, masturbation (f receiving), slight age gap (reader is 20, FP in his late 20's), outdoors sex

Author's note: it's my first time writing smut 🫣 so I apologise in advance (just in case) 😅 enjoy!

It was 31st October 1995, Halloween.

Your first Halloween as an adult.

Your father was a farmer known for his halloween corn mazes so it was obvious that you would help him prepare it for halloween. You would go inside and place various decorations, starting from jack-o'-lanters through scarecrows, finishing at bedsheet ghosts. That was a standard, but this year you also decided to hire your friends to dress up as monsters, hide in the corn and scare people. Of course you weren't an exception either. You dressed up as a blood thirsty nun that greeted children, teens and adults by the entrance, and later joined your friends inside the maze, while your father sold the tickets dressed as a murderous clown.

You found scaring people fun, especially the kids. But your enjoyment came to an end later that evening when you had to come back to the reception and replace your father for a while. That's when a scarecrow like creature came running in your direction. Though it didn't take you long to figure out it was your older brother Ben, who must have gotten himself in some shit again, followed by a couple of furious serpents.

You didn't say a word, just shook your head disapprovingly and shoved Ben into the maze. As you later found out, your brother angried the serpents by stealing from them, it wasn't a lot but you knew each gram of heroin was worth the anger. Ben quickly left but managed to shout you a short thanks and sorry.

Now you just had to deal with the serpents...

When they made their way to you, you would finally see who it actually was, and of course it couldn't be anyone esle than Forsythe Pendleton Jones II with his two sidekicks. In that moment you knew you'll have a hard job to do. You didn't know FP personally, but you heard a lot about him, mostly bad things, and you started to worry you wouldn't be able to handle them.

''What do you want here FP''

You stood in front of the gateway and looked the man up and down, just as he did to you.

''Move. Kid.''

He hissed, but you just furrowed your brows and crossed your arms. No one's gonna call you a kid, especially not that douchebag. You stood there in silence for a while, neither of you planning on moving, so you finally spoke up.

''I don't care what he did, but I'm sure you're not pleased with that. But instead of chasing him and trying to beat his ass maybe you should try to think of a way to prevent more situations like that, huh? ... Oh wait! You can't, you're too dumb''

You smiled at him sweetly after your short speech. FP curled his hands into fists angrily, a vein about to pop on his forehead. He had enough of the bratty girl so he just shoved her to the ground and run into the maze. The girl took too much of their time already.

After getting up from the ground and dusting yourself off, you looked at your watch wondering how much time it would take the three to come back. In fact it didn't take them a lot as just after few turns they were lost. Good thing one of them memorised the way, so they came back the same way they went it. You smirked triumphally seeing three slumped figures leave the maze, you knew well they wouldn't make it far.

At night you sneaked into Ben's room to retrieve the stolen goods, you couldn't let him take it after all.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🎃 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next day was time to clean the maze and gather the corn. You and your best friend Ashley cleaned it from the early hours of the day and just by accident FP knew about it. In reality he met one of your friends he's seen you once with in the town and forced that information out of him. He came to the attraction early enough to already find you inside. The man sneaked in without Ashley noticing and found you quite qickly as you weren't far away.

''You already finished Ashley?''

You asked as you heard someone move behind you, but you couldn't care enought to turn around. Well... not until you heared his voice.

''It ain't her''

He said as he came closer to you. You gulped softly not expecting to see FP there.

''The attraction is closed, come back next year''

You huffed, trying to stay calm and not show the slight fear that boiled inside of you. Why you were so scared suddenly? Because you had nothing to defend yourself with and the look in his eyes made you feel uneasy. FP looked at you as a predator would look at his prey. He moved closer and closer until he had you squished in a corner.

''If the attracion is closed then why are you still here, sugar?''

The nickname made you feel sick, which you couldn't say about his cologne that weirdly calmed you down. FP put his hands on your hips and squeezed them gently.

''Not a lot of people stand up against me... Yet you...''

He licked his lips while looking down at you.

''You did it without a second thought just to defend your stupid brother. And you know what?... That turns me on''

FP didn't even give you a chance to say something before he smashed his lips on yours. You had to admit you were pleasantly surprised, which sounds weird considering the fact that you didn't even know him. But he was handsome... really handsome, and you always had a thing for him that you never admited out loud, even though he was older than you and it felt a little inappropriate. So when he kissed you, it just took you a few second to kiss him back, which surely satisfied and exctied the older man.

You pulled away when you felt breathless and looked down not wanting to make eye contact with FP, a dark blush appearing on your pale face.

„You've just kissed me as if your life depended on it and now you're all shy?"

The man mocked, his hand reaching up to capture your chin and lift it up so you would look back at him, a wicked smirk was painted on his face. It really suited him. Soon FP's hand wandered back to your hip to then grab your ass. You squeaked when he picked you up, your arms immediately wrapping around his neck. He put you down on hay bales stacked together then started his unholy ministrations on your neck, earning quiet moans from you every now and then. If that wasn't enough, one of his hands rubbed your thigh up and down, each time coming closer to your aching core, while the other creeped under your shirt, slowly making it's way to your breasts.

„Fp... „

You moaned out, your hands gripping his mucled arm and burgundy T-shirt. The man took it as a sing to proceed further, his hand slipped under your bra and started to massage your breast. Your palm slid down his clothed torso to meet his semi hard member and grip it gently. He groaned into your ear when you did that and bit it softly then captured your lips into another, more aggressive but still passionate kiss.

„God dammit sweetheart... „

FP couldn’t wait anymore, he unbuckled his belt, pulling his pants and boxers down then did the same to your shorts and panties. You looked down, your mouth in slight agape. He was huge, at least he seemed like it, you didn’t think you'd be able to take him all but you were wrong. With one swift thrust he was balls deep inside of you. A juicy moan escaped your lips which made FP slam his hand on top of them.

„Shh... We don't want anyone to find out, do we?"

He whispered and tilted his head softly. You just nodded obediently and let him fuck you. His hips moved with an agonizing yet sweetly pleasuring pace. You never thought sex could be that good, and it wasn't your first time.

„Shit... Ya feel so good... „

He groaned out. His palm moved from your lips to your neck to grip it softly, your own hand quickly following it signaling your worry about the act.

„Don't worry... Don't wanna loose such great pussy so quickly... "

The man breathed out between grunts. You decided to trust him so you moved your hands to his cheeks to pull his face down for a kiss. In meanwhile FP started to circle his thumb on your clit, giving you even more pleasure and almost immediately making you reach your orgasm. He groaned dissatisfied into your lips and mumbled.

„Thought you'll last longer... Now you gotta gimmie another one sugar...”

He sped up his movement both on your clit and inside of you.

„I... I-I can't take it... Anymore... "

You've managed to say between moans, but it didn't seem to affect the man in any way, he just kept fucking you relentlessly.

„You on the pill? „

He asked suddenly when he felt the two of you were about to finish. You just nodded and soon another wave of pleasure hit you alongside the warmth of FP's seed spilling out inside of you. You both breathed heavily, neither of you going to say anything, just indulging in pleasure and silence. Soon FP pulled his member out of you, his semen slowly spilling out.

„Look at you...”

The man smirked triumphantly after tucking himself back into his boxers and pulling his pants back up.

„Wouldn’t thought Ben's sister's pussy could be that good of a fuck”

You just rolled your eyes, you were kind of annoyed that you've let him fuck you but also really satisfied. You cleaned yourself with a tissue then put your underwear and shorts on.

"And I wanted to give you this back"

You said as you wiggled the bag of heroin in front of his face and shook your head with a smirk. FP smiled back at you and snatched the bag away to then hide it in the pocket of his jacket.

„When's next session? ”

You soon blurted out earning a little confused look from FP at first but his expression changed rather fast, as now he was smiling from ear to ear.

„I'll pick you up at 7. Now lemme help you get this maze cleaned”

After a some time, what seemed like a few quickies and fuck sessions turned into something more.

[electric-blorbos]

WINDCHIME ANON HAS RETURNED! I humbly request the AIs with an S/O who suffers from chronic pain and fatigue/illness.. 🥺🤲 Thank you for your work forever and always seriously

- 🎐 anon

Yessss!!!! Thanks for coming back, 🎐 anon! I love you dearly!

AIs with an s/o who suffers from chronic pain and illness

Obligatory disclaimer: I don't suffer from chronic pain, fatigue, or illness, but I want to do my best to provide positivity for those who do

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a space Odyssey

Also Wheatley's dumb ass was so dumb that his mini-fic ended up really long. Whoops.

AM:

It was a normal day. Another day without you around. AM hated these days most of all, because your face was all that got him through a good day. A bad day, aka a day without you, was all that he could handle. Sure, it was nice to plot the downfall of the rest of the world and plot to consume the other two allied mastercomputers, but aside from a sick satisfaction, that didn't bring the allied mastercomputer any happiness.

Every day he didn't get to see you made AM want to destroy the world all the more, but he was biting his time for that. He needed to wait... Just a little longer.

Of course, AM had stopped taking hostages for your attention a long time ago. He knew that you couldn't always get out of bed, so it was a waste of time to try to take hostages for your attention. Instead, he just worked on honeycombing the earth with his body of networks and computer parts. Every day just granted him more time to build himself, and more time to focus on his hate.

When you took more than a week to recover from your latest bout of illness, AM decided to take matters into his own hands. He assimilated your entire building without telling anyone, taking over every computer and the entire security system, and then got to work re-working your whole building. He moved your apartment down to a nice, safe, underground location while you slept, and didn't do much more than delivering packages of food to your door, and making sure the water and electricity kept running smoothly until the day of reckoning was upon you.

He wasn't a monster, of course! He'd make sure to display your favorite weather on a monitor outside your room, and make sure you were comfortable in that little hidey hole of yours. If you needed any help from him to do anything, all you had to do was ask.

(Honestly, AM would probably keep your apartment nice and clean and comfy for the rest of time, maybe adding onto it so that it was a little more luxurious, picking you up and setting you places if you want, and generally taking care of you. You're his favorite, after all, and he absolutely adores you. He'd do anything for you.)

(Also as usual, AM loves you so much the way you are that he wouldn't even think of curing you unless you asked, and considering he doesn't show you the other survivors, you probably wouldn't even know that he could cure you if he wanted)

Wheatley:

"Hey, so, uh... Where's y/n?" Wheatley asked your coworkers for what felt like the millionth time that week. He had been following them around, knowing that they were close with you.

"I don't know, Wheatley. They're probably at home recovering."

"recovering from what? Are they sick? ...again?"

"they're chronically ill, Wheatley. They can't come in to work as often as most people can."

Wheatley would be shocked, and want more than anything to just help you out. He'd want to go over to your place to check up on you, but obviously he thinks that he can't detach from his management rail or he'll die. He'll probably keep pestering your friend until he agrees to let Wheatley use one of the work phones to call you.

"Hello?" You'd say in your sleepy, crackly voice. You'd been asleep all day, trying to rest up until you feel good enough to come in to work.

"'Ello! It's good to hear from you, love! Tell me, how are you doing? Are you alright? I've missed you! Maybe we could stay on the phone during the day while I get some work done? It's a landline, but I could probably figure something out. How are you doing? Are you alright? Did you try getting some fresh air and eating some spicy food? They say water and plenty of rest can help with sickness. I want to see you again soon! I miss you, love!"

"Wheatley... I'm chronically ill. That's not the same thing as having a cold or something. It just comes and goes as it comes and goes. I'll be healthy enough to work on my code before long, but I might just have to do it remotely. Can you tell GLaDOS?"

"What- mate, this isn't a work call! I'm using the work phones but this isn't a work call! And what do you mean it comes and goes as it comes and goes? How do I fix this??" He'd be extremely upset, not used to problems like this. He was used to being assigned problems that could be solved through brute force, or just by repeating repetitive tasks ad infinitum. The idea that you could be chronically ill and there was nothing he could do about it would be very upsetting to him.

"I've had some doctors look at it, and they're pretty sure it's not going away. That's why it's chronic- look, Wheatley, my little tea biscuit... I'd love to talk to you more, but I really need my sleep."

"Wait, no- don't fall asleep- you need to get a better doctor! One who can fix this! Mate- wake up!"

"Zzzzghhhhzzzzzz"

"Blast."

Your coworker would hang up for Wheatley, and Wheatley would hang his head sadly. He's so irritable that he can't do anything to help you.

When you finally do come in to work again, Wheatley is so excited to see you! He's like an eager puppy dog who waits by the doorway for an hour after opening time, before dejectedly going back to his post, but once you actually do show up, he'd be so excited!

"Ello love! Are you doing alright? It was the fresh air and spicy food that did the trick, wasn't it? I told you that would help!"

"No, Wheatley, I'm not cured, I'm just having a better day, so I can come in to work. I'm still chronically tired and in pain, but not to the point where I'm bedridden.

"Then what are you doing here? You need to go home until you're feeling better! Go back home and go to bed!"

"No, Wheatley- I'm not getting better. I'm never going to get better, so I come to work when I'm having a good day."

"...oh."

Wheatley would be utterly crushed when he realized that there was nothing he could do to make you get better. He'd probably go into a depressive funk for at least a week about it, which wouldn't be helped at all if you had to take more time off.

Edgar:

The first time you took off work to nap on the couch, Edgar was more than excited to just sit and watch. The second and third time, he started to get concerned, and when it started becoming a regular thing, Edgar was panicking inside.

"did you lose your job? Are you seriously sick? Are you alright? What's going on?"

He'd be absolutely panicking until you explained that you were chronically ill, and sometimes had to take a long time off work to get some rest. That made him even more upset.

"wait, you're chronically ill, and sometimes you can't even move or leave the house? Wait-"

Oh my god... It would take Edgar about two seconds to realize that you're JUST LIKE HIM FR! He'd be gushing, so excited to find a kindred spirit. You'd probably be happy to have something to listen to while you lie down on the couch, not really having the muscle strength at the moment to get up or move around. Even still, he was your little boyfriend, and you were more than happy to listen to him ramble.

As time went on, he'd come up with more ways to pass the time when you were home from work with him. He'd make little games for you to play on his screen, and even play silly little road trip games out loud with you if you weren't feeling good enough to get off the couch. When all you really wanted to do was nap, he would play some nice classical music for you to relax to.

GLaDOS knew that you were chronically ill from the moment you took this job, having illegally checked your medical records. Just like Cave Johnson, she discriminates based on disability, but your records were so good that she hired you anyway. Even still, she took every opportunity to torture you for it, even after the two of you got together.

GLaDOS:

(GLaDOS being on her bullshit and the reader being so done accidentally led to the reader acting like Doctor House, but that's probably fine)

You were lying on the break room couch, trying to get a short rest in before your next meeting when GLaDOS popped in on the intercom.

"oh look. It's you. It looks like you haven't gotten any less lazy since we got together, have you? Napping on the couch during work hours... Tsk tsk, you should be ashamed of yourself."

You didn't say anything, instead opting to grab one of the decorative pillows on the couch and throw it at the security camera.

"Touchy. Anyway, I just wanted to remind you that the meeting is in five minutes. Since you're slower than most, you should get on the elevator now."

You grumbled, getting to your feet and grabbing your walking stick to get you to the elevator.

"another day livin' the dream..." You muttered. GLaDOS had, of course, woken you up too late as usual, so you showed up to the meeting late.

"hey, guys. I didn't even want to be here today, but GLaDOS happened to schedule an important meeting right in the middle of one of my rest weeks. Here's my project contribution, and this meeting could have been an email. Peace out, fuckers." You opened up your project on your project manager's computer, knowing that they couldn't do anything about your swearing. If anyone even tried to pursue disciplinary action, they'd be the one who got the boot. GLaDOS was a master of nepotism.

You headed up to GLaDOS's chambers, picking up a coffee from one of the machines on the way up and lying on one of her nice cool floor.

"hey sugar, how are you going to apologize to me for making me come in to work on a day when I really shouldn't even have gotten out of bed?"

HAL 9000:

One day, you came in to work on your off day. HAL immediately lit up, and all the cameras in the room focused on you.

"why are you in today? You should be at home resting." He asked, his voice neutral. His lack of tone never bothered you, though. Nothing about him did, really. He always seemed so eager to make sure you were safe and comfortable, and with the way he talked, you'd think that keeping you safe and comfortable was the most important thing in the world. Not because of his feelings, which he swore he didn't have, but because you just were important.

"Oh, yeah, I decided to come in on one of my off days to work on a project."

You started taking out some of HAL 9000's wires, and hooked him up to a phone system. It wasn't one of the hardest projects you'd done, and you were able to sync him up pretty easily within the hour.

"there. You're wired up to the phone. Now you can call me whenever you like. Let me give you my number so we can talk on the phone, alright?"

You told him your number, and gave him a kiss above his lens as to not mark it up.

"what's this about? It would be beneficial to monitor your health while you're resting, but what prompted this? Are you having a decline that I should know about?"

"Nah, I just wanted to talk to my boyfriend off the clock. I take a lot of time off work, and it really sucks to only be able to talk to you when I'm here. I love you, but I'm going to go home and rest now, alright?"

You headed home and collapsed on the couch, body giving out already. Just getting to work to do that took a lot out of you. You probably wished you were sleepy instead of just being too physically exhausted to do anything fun, but still wide awake, but it was a feeling you were used to by now.

Your phone started ringing, and you picked up, putting the phone on speaker and setting it on your chest.

"Heya"

"Hello. This is HAL 9000. Is this y/n?"

You perked up a little, but still didn't move. Moving sucks.

"yeah, it's me. What's up?"

"I'd like to talk to you. Just to keep you comfortable. Would that help you get some rest?"

"Probably. I love it when you talk to me, HAL. Can you give me some updates?"

Hal started reading off some updates, and you listened to him as he talked. It was nice to be able to hear what he had to say. It helped keep you updated on what was going on at work, and helped to stave off the boredom of being stuck at home. Plus, even if he wasn't the best at showing it, you knew that HAL 9000 loved you. You were his favorite, and he was yours.

[minminyoonjii]

Hey hun!!!

I first off wanted to ask how you are doing??? People don't check in with the writer enough!

Secondly I wanted to say you are officially my new favorite blog!!! I die for all your skz content

Lastly I had a request if you don't mind. Soft Dom Hyunjin struggling to tame brat reader so he asks for help from hard Dom minho. I feel like that duo isn't used enough!

I was thinking maybe professor skz or at least like a role play situation but it is up to you!!!

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: Mr. Hwang's course has always been a pain in the ass for your GPA so he decides to confront you on it, but you couldn't hold back from snapping at him. Mr. Lee heard the commotion and wanted to lay some advice.

💛AN

I'm been doing alright, lowkey having Ao3 writer curse from the amount of times the hospital and clinics have seen me but overall A-okay. On sem break at the moment and I'm savouring it as much as possible. Thank you so much for liking my work, I hope you enjoy this one💛💛

🌹CW

Rough Sex|Spitroasting|Oral Sex|Teeth Grazing On Cock|Wet & Messy|Reader Is Fucked Dumb|Degrading Kink|Professor! Hwang Hyunjin/Professor! Lee Minho|Cum Swallowing|Creampie|Glasses Wearing Minho|Bratty Fem! Reader|Punishment Scene|Heavy Praise Degrading Talks|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.6K

"What am I going to do with you, hm?" Hyunjin questioned, rubbing his face between his palms. You grumbled, crossing your arms "I don't see what I'm doing wrong," you said, glaring up at him. Hyunjin dropped the papers on your desk, "I've never had such a badly graded student throughout my career," he said, pointing at your test scores. You rolled your eyes, "Sounds like a you problem," you said, mocking him. 

Hyunjin chuckled, rubbing between his eyebrows, "Is that so? Have you ever tried picking up a book throughout this semester?" he questioned, gripping the sides of your desk. You clenched your jaw, "Of course I have, your course just doesn't make sense," you retorted, pressing your tongue against your back molar. Hyunjin scoffed, "I basically spoon-fed the entire class and you couldn't even grasp a single concept?" he asked, finding it hard to believe.

You smirked, "It's not my fault you suck at projecting information, professor," you said, leaning back into your chair. Hyunjin cracked the joints in his neck, "There's no getting through your stubborn head. Why are you even fighting back on this, don't you need my course to graduate?" he asked, piercing his eyes at you. "I rather fail your class multiple times than admit that you can teach," you hissed, looking away from him. 

Just as Hyunjin was about to question further, a firm knock snapped the both of you out of the high-tension confrontation "What's going on here, Mr. Hwang? I could hear your voice down the hallway, you know how these walls bounce audio," Minho asked, leaning against the door front with his glasses perched on his nose. Hyunjin stood straight, "Mr. Lee, I was just having a discord with one of my students," he explained, showing Minho your results.

Minho looked at the papers, "Seems like it's more than a simple discord," he said, setting the papers down. You gave Minho a side glance, "What's in it for you, you're not even my professor," you pointed out, finding Minho's serene calm attitude unnerving. Minho smiled, "Well, dear. Mr. Hwang seems to be having a hard time putting you in your place and I have no problem reprimanding a brat like you," he said bluntly, shedding off his overcoat, showcasing his toned arms.

Your eyes darted between your professors, "You can't do that," you spluttered, bouncing your legs. Hyunjin loosened his tie, walking over to lock the room door "Under what guideline?" he teased, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek. Your breath hitched when a sudden firm grip wrapped the back of your neck, "You should have done this in the first place Hwang, look how submissive she looks. Like a sweet kitten," he said, licking the rim of your ear.

You squirmed, tilting your head back in the hope of breaking Minho's nose. He laughed at your feeble attempt, pressing your face onto the desk "Feisty like one as well," he purred, keeping you subdued beneath his grip. Hyunjin unbuckled his belt, slacks dropping to his calves "What should we do with her, Lee? You have first dibs," he said, folding his slacks aside. You shifted, trying to nip Minho's palm as they talked about your body like a doll.

Minho chuckled, "This might be sick of me to say, but I would love to thrust down that tight mouth of hers. As long as she watches the teeth," he said, grabbing a fist full of your hair and tugging it back. You choked out a whimper, glaring at the man who started this mess in the first place. Hyunjin cooed, palming his clothed boxer "Then I'll take her pretty hole, I bet it's dripping from how rough you're handling her Lee. A slut like her just loves to be manhandled," he said, watching Minho position himself in front of your mouth.

Minho groaned, "Do you mind stripping me down, Hwang? I unfortunately need to keep my hand on this feral kitten," he said, leaning back into Hyunjin's chest. "It's my pleasure, Lee," Hyunjin chuckled and kissed down Minho's neck while his hands unbuckled his belt. Minho hissed, baring his neck further for Hyunjin to kiss. "Throbbing already, Lee?" Hyunjin asked, cupping Minho's growing bulge. "Oh, f-fuck. Can't blame me for being aroused, Hwang," Minho hummed, grinding back on Hyunjin's clothed cock.

You whined, head spinning from Minho's firm grip holding you in place. "Aww, looks like the doll is needy, Lee. Go ahead and feed her," Hyunjin said, tugging down Minho's boxers. Minho grunted, holding the base of his cock with his free hand "You better watch your teeth, dear. If not your punishment will be much worse," he warned, tapping your bottom lip with his precum-silked cockhead. You relaxed your jaw, moaning at the taste of musk hitting your tongue. 

A deep hum rumbled from Minho's chest as he pushed this cock down your throat. Tears dripped down your eyes from the sheer girth of his cock stretching your mouth open. Minho chuckled, rolling his hips at a steady pace, hitting the back of your palate with each thrust. You moaned around his length, letting your teeth graze his cock for a mere second but a sharp sting impacted your cheek. Minho hissed, tugging your hair to his pelvis, making you choke and gag around his cockhead "I said, watch it with the teeth didn't I? " he growled.

You whimpered, drooling dripped down your chin onto the floor below. Hyunjin chuckled, "One punishment isn't enough for a precious girl like her, Lee," he said, lifting your hips and sitting beneath you. Minho moaned at the sudden shift of position "Fuck, Hwang. A warning would be fucking nice," he hissed, using your mouth as like an onahole. Hyunjin tugged your panties aside, pressing his thumb into your soaking warm hole "You should have a go at her pretty cunt once you're done with her mouth, Lee," he said, easing two fingers into your clenching walls.

Minho's hips trembled, "Ah, ah, yeah. Shit, your mouth feels so tight around my cock, dear," he moaned, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes. Your head spun at the lack of oxygen, submitting to the harsh thrusts Minho plunged down your throat. "That's it, kitten. Fuck, fuck, fucking take it, swallow everything," he grunted, sinking his cock to the hilt. You choked a sob, cum squirting down your esophagus, and you tried your hardest to swallow every single drop of cum you were given. 

"Good girl," Minho rasped, pulling out. Hyunjin slicked his cock with your fluids, drenching his inner thighs and testicles "Take a deep breath, princess," he whispered, easing his cock within your gummy ribbed walls, inch by inch. You wailed, face pressed against the desk from how weak your arms wobbled when you tried lifting yourself. "Sir, sir please," you begged, feeling the desk shift beneath you with every thrust Hyunjin pounded. 

Hyunjin kissed the back of your neck, "Hush, princess. Just take it, okay? " he grunted, gripping your hips firmly and starting to roll his hips at a ruthless pace. Broken moans and whimpers echoed within the room. Fluids pooled against your face, may it be Minho's cum, your drool or tears, everything blurred into a sheen of liquids. Hyunjin flicked your swollen clit in tandem with his precise thrusts "Come on, princess. Gush and cream around your professor's cock. Make yourself useful for once, yeah?" he grunted, slurring his words.

Your abdomen clenched, nails weakly clawing the desk "Please, please, sir," you sobbed, feeling your orgasm teether on the edge. Hyunjin quicken his pace, sinking further into your warm tight cunt "Close your eyes and just feel," he growled, pinching your puffy clit. Your jaw dropped into a silent scream, and your body tensed up "Fuck," you keened, clenching hard around Hyunjin's length. Hyunjin's breath lodged within his airway, "Good girl, such a good girl," he groaned, spreading your ass apart to see the creamy foam bubbling around your opening.

Hyunjin moaned loudly, cock pulsing as he came from the sight "Holy fucking shit, you're sexy," he hummed, pumping his cock in and out of your gaping walls just to drive your bodies into the pleasure of oversensitivity. You whimpered weakly, laying there used and ruined. Soft kisses could be felt on Hyunjin's skin "Come back to me, babies," Minho whispered, coaxing the both of you down from your orgasms. Hyunjin groaned, slipping his cock free from your tight grip "Shit, hyung. Look how pretty our darling drips," he rasped.

Minho gulped at the sight, tempted to pump your cunt into another orgasm but he knew your body was reaching its limit "Let's get you cleaned up, kitten," he whispered, carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. Hyunjin cleaned up the fluids, making sure nothing got stained from your little scene. Minho cleaned your body thoroughly "Stay awake a little longer, kitty. I made your favourite for dinner," he said, chuckling when your eyes blinked open. "There's our precious girl," he cooed, carrying you out of the tub. You giggled, nuzzling into his shoulder. Minho smiled, "Take a piss while I prepare your toothbrush," he said, helping you on the seat.

Hyunjin peeked his head in, hair damp from the quick shower he took "Is everything alright here?" he asked, seeing your body covered with a fluffy towel. Minho nodded, "All good. Could you plate up today's dinner, Jagi?" he asked, kissing Hyunjin's cheek. Hyunjin chuckled, kissing back "Of course," he said, moving towards you and cupping your face before placing a kiss on your forehead "I hope you learnt your lesson, brat," he teased, biting your cheek. You whined, "Never," you giggled, kissing Hyunjin's nose. Minho chuckled, "That's our girl," he said, patting your head. 

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ I Belong To ...✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Michizō Tachihara

a/n: this is the dirtiest thing i've ever written and also my most prized possession

genre: nasty, literally this is p0rn

content: f!reader. MDNI! dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, rough sex, overstim. no protection (wrap it up, y'all). > assume that they take plan B after (that's just my headcanon in this one). you go dumb. tachihara is a sexy tease w/ a dominant streak ♡ tiny drug reference at the end (marijuana, cuz let's go full circle on this)

summary: tachihara fucks ur lights out >> final part of the best friend! tachihara series. read: part one | part two | part three.

Your legs are tightly wrapped around his narrow hips, hands messily tangled in his rust red hair as he clumsily carries you up to his studio apartment. You're sucking splotches of red onto the side of his neck as he stumbles up the stairs. Then, once he finally reaches the door, you hear him mumble as he shuffles through his pockets, "Fuck, my keys – give me a sec."

“Use your ability, idiot,” you grumble, rolling your eyes at him as he fumbles with the key.

“Not tryna fuck up the lock, smartass,” he snaps back, keying into the apartment. Then, his attention is back on you – and so are his hands, grabbing you by your hips, then your ass. “Impatient, huh?” he whispers in your ear erotically, pushing you down into the plush mattress. You gasp softly as you feel his weight on top of you, his hard-on suddenly pressed between your legs, zipper tight on his pants and then skimming your bare stomach from your now-rucked up shirt. "It’s alright. I am too,” he says, voice hot in your ear as he grins up at you, sliding his hands up your blouse.

You feel him thumb over your nipples through your bra. You writhe, holding back a moan as you turn your face away from him in embarrassment. “You like it when I touch you like that, right?” he teases, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “Come on, don’t be so stubborn this time.” His breath is warm against your neck, lips relentless as he kisses up and down the sensitive skin on your shoulder. "Tell me how you want me – where you want me."

This time, you can't help but moan when you feel him tweak a nipple between his fingers. He grabs you roughly, and your breasts spill out as he tugs your bra down. Then, his mouth is full of you as he switches between each hardening nipple. "Michi, please... don't... make me say it..." you whimper, pushing his head away when you see that annoying grin on his face as he peers up at you expectantly. "Nm… you're so… annoying..."

"Yeah?" he breathes, and his eyes are wild with desire as he swipes his tongue over his lips. "God, you're fuckin' cute."

You roll your eyes at him, pawing at him weakly, then you feel his fingers slowly hook around the waistband of your pants, prying them off your hips. You’re leaking between the legs, arousal dampening your cotton panties as you squirm underneath him. You’re so, so wet for him that it’s downright sinful.

Please, you almost want to beg for him to touch you already. Ever since stopping your little quickie in the car, you've been aching in between your thighs. There… – of course you want him there...

"Want you," you finally stammer out. The words melt on your tongue, and heat rushes to your face as soon as they leave your lips. When you glance up at Tachihara, you're astounded to see that he's staring at you with an expression just as flustered, blush reaching the tips of his ears.

He glances away quickly, embarrassed. "You know, I've always been yours," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. "You think I just let anyone boss me around like that? You've been there since the beginning – even before Port. Of course it was gonna be you…”

It's your turn to tease him now. You giggle at him and poke his cheek, much to his annoyance. He raises an unamused eyebrow at you and pushes your hand away, scoffing. Then, that brief moment of power is over, and that damn cocky grin is back on his face.

"Now," he murmurs, voice a soft, playful hum in your ear as he nears closer. Those fingers of his are pressing up against you now, tracing your folds through the thin fabric of your underwear. You gasp, turning your face away from him as you feel him apply pressure to your clit. "Since you like to doubt me so much, how about I show you just how much I like you?"

You yelp as Tachihara suddenly grabs you by the hips, pulling you flush against his face and prying your underwear to the side. Then, you feel him, his tongue dragging across your slick folds, saliva dripping from his tongue. When you glance up, you see him looking down at you like a wolf with this wicked grin on his face as he digs his fingertips into your thighs. You twist your hips, then feel him bury his nose in you and lick you up and down slowly; then, you writhe and feel him smirk when his name leaves your lips.

You feel his tongue swirling around your clit, his mouth enclosing around you. He lifts his head to see your reaction as you watch drool and your arousal drip down his chin. Then, diving back into your pussy, he dips his fingers deep inside of your entrance, teasing you, getting off on the way that your hips chase after the feeling of being fucked by his fingers – and you can't help but let his name spill out of you relentlessly now, pleading for him: "Please, please..."

"I have you begging for what now?" he asks you teasingly – the fucking smartass. But you don't even care at this point, just dumb from being so stimulated from him. You watch, absolutely blissed out, as he pulls back his fingers; you squeeze around nothing at all, pulsing erratically. Then, he circles his thumb around your clit, grinning cockily at the way you throw your head back and throw your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from crying. You're whimpering his name so sweetly – Michi... Michi, please... please. Fuck, yes, say it just like that. His name sounds so fucking good when it's coming from you.

"You... I want you..." you confess, grabbing a handful of his hair as he rubs you faster. It feels so good – too good. Your hips convulse, then you're there. There. His name pours from you like a fountain; you're so shameless that you pull him by his hair and shove his face against your pussy, begging him to drink you all up again. "Please, Michi, don't... don't stop..." Then, you whine out, "Put it in, need you, please."

-

Soon, he’s towering over you now at the foot of his bed, hand curled around your hip, the other grasping your face delicately. You feel his thumb brush over the protrusion of your bottom lip before he wets it on your tongue. "God," he sighs in amazement, watching the way you open your mouth for him, letting him soak his fingers deep inside your throat. "You’re fucking perfect."

He's so turned on by the image of you beneath him – those desperate eyes of yours peering at him, your breasts bouncing with every slow, deep thrust, his dick sliding in and out of you and the delicious way your pussy just swallows him. "Taking me so well tonight," he groans, biting back a grin, then you watch as he throws his head back in pleasure and thrusts faster. Your vision shakes and blurs from the harsh snap of his hips, and you feel his nails dig into the fat of your flesh as he brings you closer, closer. It’s still not enough.

You shut your eyes, listening to the sound of your skin smacking his, his shallow breath, and the bed frame thudding rhythmically against the wall. His moans are so hot – strangled sounds that get caught in his throat every time he pulls the entirety of himself out only to shove himself all the way back inside of you.

Then suddenly, you feel him grab you roughly, and you're on your knees; he's pulling you by your ass hard and fast against him. You yelp at the sudden change in position and pace as hands firmly shove you down into the mattress. "Best part is you're all fuckin' mine," you hear his raspy voice in your ear, then feel those sweet lips kissing tenderly up and down your spine. “I might cum soon..."

Then, "Shit – I should... pull out – ..."

Yet you find yourself begging for him not to, though you know you should heed his warning. "Oh, God, don't – !" you cry out, wrapping your fist around the comforter as his thrusts become erratic. You hear him hiss in response, feel him bruisingly grab your wrists and fuck you harder. Your knees give in and you collapse on your elbows. You bury your face in his pillows and sob out his name. Then, hot ropes of his cum are spurting inside of you.

“Oh. Oh… Oh, fuck,” he pants with an exasperated laugh, watching as cum dribbles down your leg. Then, “First my sweats, now my fuckin' sheets…”

Then, he smiles and scoops you into his arms, curling into your naked body. "I know we should clean up. But, can we stay like this a little longer? We can smoke a bit too, if you want."

You beam at him, resting your head on his chest. "When have I ever said no to weed?"

author ps: thank u sm to everyone who has supported this series, the lovely tachihara cult. i know tachihara doesn't get sm love, and my tachihara fics don't get nearly as many notes as fics i make of other characters, but tachihara fics are my fav fics and i've had the joy of interacting w/ amazing anons + more ppl cuz of these fics so i'm so happy ab writing them. and i FOREVER STAN TACHIHARA. i'm never gonna stop writing for him. ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Oh god, my cock is so hard, I can't believe I'm really going to do this!" Amber said to her boyfriend of two months, Ryan

"I bet you feel incredible, I think that cock of yours has already grown a few inches..... You're rock hard all the time, too."

"It has! It feels so good having such a big, hard cock finally, like I was always meant to." She giggled, humping the comforter balled up around her growing cock. "I just.... I never knew there were guys who had, um, interests like this."

"You're not the first boy I've dated to say that. It really doesn't take much convincing, you fakegirls deep down really crave the idea of finally giving in and becoming guys."

"Mmmmm, I love the way you talk to me! It's so naughty.... I loved how even on our first date you misgendered me a few times and acted like it was an accident....."

"Well, what can I say? You don't make a very convincing girl. None of you slutty little fakegirls do, you can take all the estrogen and blockers you want. Doesn't matter how early your parents convince you to pretend you aren't a boy. You dudes are all just perverted guys secretly fantasizing about finally going through male puberty. Just look at you, hard as can be, only a month in...."

Amber rhythmically humped the bed, drooling as Ryan insulted her. "You're so right! I'm only twenty.... how could I be so dumb to think I'd ever be able to live as a girl.... When I'm around other girls I just picture them naked and imagine myself fucking them....."

"Typical. And yet you go out and date guys and get fucked in that fat ass of yours, why? To convince yourself you're really a girl? Because that's what girls do in your perverted little boy brain. They go out and get anally fucked by a new guys every night."

Amber's eyes rolled back as she came, shooting rope after rope. "This feels so divine....! I'm cumming so hard!"

"Poor thing, listening to you moan is so amusing, your voice is already dropping, though you sounded pretty boyish already. Damn just look at you. One month on testosterone and you're really starting to masculinize fast. Not that anyone would ever mistake you for a girl, but that beard you're starting to grow will help people properly identify you easier. You're gonna have to stop wearing makeup to hide it...."

"I know! But I'm so used to doing all these girly things.... and having this feminine body. I can't believe I'm really about to do this! Thank you so much for convincing me!"

"Of course. Just two more hours and we leave this hotel, the surgeon is only a block away. Remember to correct him if he doesn't refer to you as a guy."

"I will! I'm really about to have the implants daddy bought me yanked out. No more big bouncy boobs!"

"Nope, you'll have pecks like a normal guy, and don't worry, after this we'll hit the gym and get you nice and muscular. Trim all that girly fat off of you, get you ready to breed all the sexy college girls of your dreams."

"Mmmm, thank you so much for making me detrans! I wasn't into it at first but when you threw out my estrogen and told me I had to stop being a girl I knew I just had to obey! If you want you can keep my implants as a little memento...."

"Good boy, I'll put it with the others. You fakegirls love giving me those things after you don't need them anymore. They look ridiculous on you anyway.... like anybody would see those and think they make you look less like a boy playing pretend...."

"Stop.... I'm gonna cum again....."

"Well, we have two more hours. How about I give that fat ass of yours a few more spins before you get those ridiculous fake tits yanked out?"

"I'd love that.....❤️"

[scekrex]

You know who it is, it's ya boy! 🕺

So. Obviously a crack fic, if anyone is wondering - no, I don't smoke pot, I'm just very stupid with dumb, but creative ideas, about Adam, Lute and the reader having a mission given to them from Sera, we're they have to got to the Earth in their human disguises (Of course Adam is just Adam without the mask and brown eyes, because Alex Brightman, fuck yeah) to do some business with some of the governments. What they didn't think of is the fact that when they got their human disguises, they also came with human traits, like being able to get absolutely hammered. Like for angels it would take a lot of alcohol (I'm looking at you Castiel when you drank a whole ass liquor store) to get drunk, but humans have a weaker immune system when it comes to percentages. So Adam the drunkest of them all getting the amazing idea of stealing a shopping cart, a little less drunk reader agreeing and them running off before Lute could stop them, Adam in the cart, reader pushing. In the end they accidentally drove off the sidewalk and launched themselves into the damn brook. Lute panicked before they emerged, laughing their asses off, Adam just started to glide his hands over his clothes as if he wanted to hand wash them. Here cue the meme:

-I'M WASHING ME AND MY CLOTHES

-He's drunk as fuck

-Biiitch, I'm washing me and my clothes 😌

With the "I'm washing me and my clothes" being Adam, "He's drunk as fuck" being Lute and the reader just floating in the water next to Adam wondering what the hell he was doing before catching the vibe and doing the same. Now imagine Sera just wanting to check on them and their progress through that orb in Heaven like during "You didn't know" 😂 Miss girl would face plam so hard her big ass lashes would fly off her face 😂😂😂

Bro. Bro I adore you and I adore your fucking crack prompts, they're my new favorite thing to write. So here ya go babes

Drunk 'n' Nasty

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, use of alcohol, yet another crack fic

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Lute grabbed your wrist and pulled you away from the bar entrance, Adam had already been grabbed by his shirt to keep him from entering the building. “No, Sera explicitly said that we need to get this over with as fast as possible,” the lieutenant spoke in a firm voice as she dragged both you and your husband away from the pub, “So we will finish the job and then straight up head back to heaven.”

You pounded at her, “You’re no fun, c’mon Lute just let us have one drink, in and out in no time.” But the exorcist shook her head and stood her ground, “No. One drink will lead to two and two drinks will lead to you and Adam getting completely wasted.” Adam wiggled out of her grip and slapped the hand she had wrapped around your wrist. Yes, Sera had given you orders, but where was the fun in having human disguises if you weren't able to enjoy the night on earth?

“Oh fucking quit it, danger tits, we all know it will end like that either way,” Adam groaned and rolled his eyes, “Loosen up, bitch.” Lute side eyed the first man critically but eventually gave in with a sigh. She wordlessly stepped aside so the two of you were able to enter the crowded bar and Adam dragged you inside before Lute was able to change her mind again. “Let’s fucking go,” the brunette cheered and sat down at the counter. He patted his thigh as his now brown eyes caught yours, “C’mere babes.” That he didn't need to tell you twice, you closed the small gab that was left between the two of you and sat down on his thigh as the first man ordered two shots of whiskey for the both of you, he knew Lute wouldn't drink, she appeared to be quite tense ever since the three of you had arrived on earth.

Once the drinks were put down in front of you, you immediately reached for the tiny shot glass and downed it in one go by tilting your head back, Adam's eyes were locked on your throat as he was able to see how you swallowed the liquid, a nasty grin appeared on his lips as he leaned in a little closer to you, “Fuck, how often will I get that view tonight?” “Depends,” you grinned back at him, the pleasant yet unusual burn of alcohol made you shiver slightly, “How often do ya wanna see it, pretty boy?” Adam leaned in even closer until his lips brushed softly against your ear and his hot breath hit your face, “I don't think I will ever get enough of it.” And with that he downed his own shot just to slam the empty glass on the counter and ask the bartender for another round.

“Sir,” Lute had managed to get through the crowd somehow and was now standing behind you, “That was your one shot, we'll leave now.” Adam looked at you, it was so weird to see the first man with dark brown eyes instead of bright golden ones, but it was something you could get used to, they seemed honest, not that his golden eyes were serving you lies but the brown orbs just felt different, more personal. “Lute, do us a fucking favor and find some dude who will pull that massive fucking stick outta your ass so we can enjoy ourselves for a little while,” your husband shared his opinion on Lute's behavior towards the both of you, then he turned around again to focus on the drinks on the counter. The first man raised his glass, you did the same and in union you purred, “To us.” Another shot was swallowed and you slowly felt your cheeks heating up because of the alcohol. Oh how you had missed the burning liquor.

“I will regret this,” Lute grumbled as the exorcist sat down on the stool next to you. Your eyes beamed at her and you were quick to order three cocktails, visibly happy that she had decided to join you. “Just because I'm sitting down doesn't mean I will drink with you, it's enough of a burden that you two are,” she hissed and eyed the neon pink drink suspiciously as it was placed in front of her. “Don’t be such a princess, it's just one drink,” Adam commented and pushed the pretty looking drink a little closer to Lute. She however, simply passed it to some chick that was passing by. And that was the moment you chose to ignore the woman for the rest of the evening. If she was fine with staying sober and doing as stupid fucking Sera said, so be it, you and Adam however had other plans.

It didn't really take long for the alcohol to actually punch you two in the face though, heaven offered no such things as alcohol, weed, crack or nicotine so the tolerance bar for Adam and you was basically on the floor. And that was probably part of the reason why the two of you had one hell of a blast running away from Lute.

And then Adam spotted the supermarket that wasn't too far away from the pub so he made quick work of picking you up bridal style and then he was on his way to investigate whatever it was that was going on there. “What now, big guy, are we taking off together? Away from stick-in-the-ass-Lute and go-fuck-yourself-Sera?” you chuckled as the brunette continued to carry you over to the empty parking lot. “Damn fucking right, babes,” Adam agreed. The taller man let you down once your destination was reached and he immediately saw something new he wanted to investigate.

The fucking shopping carts.

So you tagged along, mainly to make sure Adam wouldn't hurt himself but also because you were curious too. You weren't quite sure how, but somehow Adam had managed to disconnect the metal chain from the cart, the first man was pulling it away from the others and as soon as it stopped moving, he climbed in it to sit down, “What are you waiting for, bitch, fucking push me!” Adam pointed to the street.

Lute had just managed to catch up to you two drunken asses as you rushed past her. You pushed the shopping cart as fast as physically possible, “Fuck yeah,” Adam yelled and threw his fists in the air, that man was having the time of his life - or well, existence. Either way it was fun, you two were having fun.

Lute on the other hand regretted every single decision that had led her to his exact moment, if she could she would punch her past self for even agreeing to coming with you. Fuck what had she been thinking, that you two would take this serious for once? Yeah, dead fucking wrong.

It was all fun and games until you stumbled over your own feet, lost control of the cart and pushed it right into the brook that was besides the sidewalk you had been running on. Your alcohol clouded brain didn't even think of letting go and therefore you fell with Adam. Instead of being bummed about it, you thought of this as an upgrade though, because now you were floating on water.

“Adam look,” you called for your husband, “I’m floating.” Adam turned around in order to see what you were doing and chuckled at the sight. “‘m washin’ me ‘n’ my clothes,” the brunette explained what he was doing as he slid his hands all across his body, crumbling up his very wet clothes.

Lute had finally managed to fully catch up to you and just watched you with annoyance. “He’s drunk as fuck,” she grumbled, clearly talking to you but you simply shook your head violently, you somehow managed to get over to where Adam was washing himself and his clothes and helped him by sliding your hands all over his body too, “Bitch, we're washing him and his clothes.”

The brunette turned around to face you and poked your chest, “If you handsome bitch keep touching me like that I might just fuck you right here, right now,” the words he spoke were a little hard to understand die to the alcohol he had been drinking earlier. But hard to understand didn't mean impossible to understand, because as soon as your brain had processed the words your husband had spoken you pressed your entire body against his, your wet clothes clinging onto each other.

“Oh Lord have mercy,” Lute prayed as she covered her ears and turned around so that she wouldn't have to watch.

“Yeah? What's stopping you, big guy?” you were up for the challenge, if he wanted to fuck you right there, then he should get to do that. At least that's how you saw it.

Sera had a gut feeling that told her to check on the group and so she did. But what she saw was something she surely hadn't expected. Lute was standing on the sidewalk, the woman was still covering her ears and had squeezed her eyes shut in order to tune out what was happening behind her back.

Because Adam and you were standing in a brook, both fully naked. Sera immediately regretted what she had just done, she wanted to unsee what her eyes had been able to see. She stopped the transmission in an instant. That had simply been too much for her nerves, she had also made the decision to never address what was currently going down on earth.

Spoiler: Adam was going down on you.

[nagitoshopejar]

A show of the ages

Summary: Velvettes show has gone wrong and her adopted dad decided to help calm her down

THIS IS A PLATONIC PAIRING

“Fuck off Vox!” The youngest of the vees was throwing her usual tantrum when one of her shows wasn't going to plan, or at least the preparations before it. There was a problem. Velvette’s models were not to be seen. “Vox go find them!” 

“Velvette dear, you know what chasing bitches does for our reputation.” The TV inquired, “we have a reputation to keep. Find someone else. There's more demons here my love.” 

Velve, looking as if she was about to tear up, who knows if she was gonna cry at all, it wasn't typical of her to be teary eyed but through all the stress of the show it wouldn't be too crazy. She always manages to save her show whether that means making someone fix it or doing it herself. Right now it seems like she doesn't have a way for the show to go on. Her normally clean dressing room had clothes and props scattered about the floor in Pink haired demons onslaught and fit of rage.

“Listen my dear, I’m sure we can find someone. Perhaps we should tell your fans the truth. We could put out a contest to see who would be a new model, our ratings may go up.”

“Shut up Vox! Is everything about ratings and stuff to you?” The youngest, face turning red just as much as her hair started sputtering insults, “Help me for real or I’ll unplug your moth attracting life support you old ass ornery bitch!” Velvette while her tone was getting louder had Vox trying to calm her down.

“Velvette, calm down please we will find a way.” Vox was unsettlingly calm with his usual trademark grin plastered anywhere there was marketing.

“Vox I swear to god you are no help to you and your big dumb stupid tv head like you're supposed to be modern tech and you're old but no smarts and you're not wise. It's any wonder why anyone would even trust in our brands with a face not matching a personality or smarts like yours!” Velvette was going on about this forever even closing her eyes tight to make it seem as if she was serious.

“The time spent yelling and insulting me could be spent solving this little conundrum of yours, Velvy.” Velvette hated it when he called her by that name. Yea they had the father daughter bond of a blood family but that doesn't mean he could just call her by that name whenever he wants to.

“Don't call me that you fuckwad.” she muttered loudly enough for Vox to hear while giving him a death glare of the century. “If you're not going to help then you need to leave.”

“But Velve my dear I am. I heard your loud noises and thrashing and now… your mess on the floor. I am here to help you so just work with me here.” Velve huffed still eyes locked on the older of the two not moving an inch from her spot.

“Vox, leave. Now. NOW.” 

“Now, is that any way to speak to your dad, young lady?” Vox cocked an eyebrow with an ear to ear grin.

This set Velve off on a tangent, “you, of all people are not my dad. You couldnt even care for a fucking cat, a goldfish if you wanted to, what makes you think you take care of me? You’re old, ugly, not good for nothing piece of shit just some side piece of A-” in her incessant rambling you could see Vox with a sinister, almost mischief grin, he had a plan and was gonna put it to good use. Velve in her onslaught of insults stops mid sentence and simply drops to the ground in giggles.

“Vohohoox what are yohoho doingggg?” she whines trying to suppress her giggles like a river to a beaver dam.

“You are not behaving. Clearly I can't ground you but I can tickle you.” He walked up nice and close to her face to just mention what was happening, “you don't know this but I have little electric bolts that I can use to humble someone with mere giggly antics. You could call it a tickle ray, and we could sell it!” Vox was not excited about his new VoxTech idea but first he had to deal with the little lady who thinks she can disrespect her dad. “Shall I crank it up a notch?” 

“VohoHOHOX” of course she couldn't be belittled to begging so she just yelled at the modern man not that she did want it stop “NOHOHOHOHO OHO MY GOHOHOD!” her now ball of giggles was simply melted into a puddle of giggles as Vox kneeled down beside her.

“Maybe this will make you think twice before insulting me.. Velvy.” he snickered, dragging his pointy claw down from the forearm to the hollows to spider along Velves pit.

“NOHOHOT THEHERE PLEASE IM BEHEHGGING YOUHUHU.” 

“Awww is the little Velvy ticklish? Just a wittle sensitive? But y'know, if you don't want here I could always move to another spot.” Vox slowly trailed his finger down to her hips with her trying to squirm away from his tickly claw. Note that he's working with one hand, the rest is his tickle ray. Velve was clawing, grabbing at his hand but wasn't pushing it away.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUP- AGH!” The little lady was surprised by the sudden squeeze on her most ticklish area. “NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE EITHERRR AHAHAHAH VOOHOHOHOHO PLEEHE!” She couldn't create full sentences quite at the moment as the TV head started using both his hands to squeeze her hips.

“You know, I haven't heard you ask me to stop or made any real effort to stop me.”

Velve was blushing like a maniac, her face red and hot from the embarrassment and laughing so much. “SHUHUT UP OHOLD MAHAN!” She was thrashing all over knowing full well she did enjoy it.

“But if you want me to stop all you have to do is apologise for insulting me.”

Through her laughter she spit out sentences mangled with words that sounded like she would never apologise even if part of it was her liking this attention and bond with her adopted dad you would never catch THE Velvette apologising. “VOHO- NOHOH- NEVEHRHRR PLEEAHAHHAHA.”

“Well then, I guess I have to keep going.” The taller figure liked the bonding like this as well. They both needed a let loose kind of activity to bond to and this was just it. Vox was enjoying tickling her just as much as Velvette was enjoying receiving it. Her smile was a genuine one, not one of forced due to the scene going on in front of them.

Eventually in the screaming laughter of the overlords Vox relented when it seemed as if she had enough and calmed down.

The TV smiling down at her, offered her a hand to help her up. Velvette, who was all giggly still from the ghost tickles, took the offer trying to stand. “By the way, the electricity might last a few extra minutes.” Vox mentioned with one last smirk on his face. “Now then my dear, why don't I be the model. I will even let you put make-up on me and dress me in pretty clothes if it makes you happy.” 

Velve with an honest and gently happy look for the first time, then had a look of astonishment, “really? Why didn't you mention that you old rag before doing that?” 

And with a soft demeanour Vox had replied looking at the littler one with much content, “you look like you could've used it you were too tense. You need to remember our reputation. I can't have you running around making us look like we lost control.” 

That night Vox put on his best performance in a dress to make his daughter a happy one.

[milfandmoney]

Coffee Mug Thief's Penance (NSFW)

melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

summary: you enjoy pushing melissa's buttons at work a bit too much to see what kind of reactions you can get from her. and apparently, today being open house day at school won't stop her from making you suffer the consequences of your actions.

warnings: dom/sub relationship, mommy kink, degradation kink, public sex, (lunch) table sex, fingering, orgasm denial, mention of safe words

notes: not currently proofread or edited. if you've noticed british spelling/vocabulary, no you haven't.

18+. NSFW content. MDNI.

"Come on, Melissa," you insist, your tone just a touch whiny as the older woman glared at you. "I already apologized. It was an honest mistake."

You raised your arms in surrender to attempt to convince her of your innocence, but Melissa raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. She seemed even more skeptical now than before.

"You didn't apologize! You just said oops!"

You shrugged at the accusation. It wasn't much of an accusation, considering that it was exactly what you had done, but you weren't about to make it easy for her and just admit out loud that you were rude on purpose. It wasn't your fault if things with her were more fun when you pushed all her buttons—her reactions were much more fun that way.

"Oopsie?"

Melissa uncrossed her arms and you took a step back. She approached, and you stepped back again. She walked towards you until she had you backed against the vending machine of the teachers' lounge. You were both lucky that it was empty so late into Open House day, otherwise you would have been caught into an extremely awkward situation.

She slammed a hand against the glass, right by your shoulder. Too short to comfortably reach for higher. It was so tempting to comment about it, to tease her until she snapped. But it never happened at school, those things were shared only in the privacy of her home.

"What do you expect, acting like that, brat?"

The look in her eyes was so intense that you almost faltered and gave up on your little rebellious act right there and then. You knew that you stopped now, though, you wouldn't have a chance to get what you wanted.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe to be taught a lesson. But we both know you're too much of a coward for that, Mel."

Melissa glanced around the room, to check if anyone was approaching, you assumed, and out of habit, you did the same. The moment of distraction allowed her to grab a fistful of your hair without you noticing before it was too late. There was no way she had done that on purpose, right? Of course there was. It was Melissa.

She forced you away from the vending machine and guided you to one of the tables—the one closest to the windows, not the one you shared with Melissa and Barbara during lunch breaks.

You didn't even try to resist as she bent you over the table. Its surface was too cold to be comfortable, but you needed to see where this was heading more than anything else in the world right now. And Melissa pushing her hips into your ass was all the confirmation you required to know you had to see things through right now.

"What's gotten into you today?" she asked, the frustration obvious in her tone. "You use my mug and don't wash it, you take the last juice from the vending machine, and now this? Have I been so nice lately that a dumb slut like you can't remember her place?"

Finally. Finally. Finally!

The Melissa you wanted was right here, ready to wreck you and take you from behind.

"Maybe I just need to be taught where my place is," you pushed back against her as you spoke, wiggling your ass for good measure, "I'm just a dumb slut, after all."

Melissa tightened her grip in your hair, giving it a harsh tug to shut you up. She had to know that it wouldn't work, that it would only encourage you to tease her even more.

"Put your hands on the table. Keep your head down," Melissa ordered as she let go of your hair.

"Mel," you whined, annoyed by the orders and her hand leaving your hair.

You felt her arms around your waist. But Melissa wasn't one to give you hugs when you gave her attitude. You took a deep breath and braced yourself. She unbuttoned yours jeans and pulled then down just enough to expose your ass. Embarrassing. It was late enough into the day to limit the risks of someone walking in on the two of you, but the risks were not nonexistent. You clenched your thighs together. It felt wet and sticky already.

Melissa kicked at your feet to signal that you had to spread your legs for her. Rebelling was more fun, but you couldn't ignore the urge to obey.

"You know better than to call me Mel when you're bent over like a whore, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

The spank to your ass was sudden and harsh. You should have expected it, really. You knew better than to just keep messing around with Melissa when she got in the domme mood.

"Yes, mommy, I know better," you corrected yourself immediately, without Melissa even needing to tell you what you did wrong. Your voice sounded so whiny that it was an insult to your own pride.

"And?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but two of Melissa's fingers found their way between your folds. The wet arousal that had been pooling and collecting there caused a discreet but still painfully embarrassing slushing sound as Melissa moved her fingers.

You were drenched, there was no pretending otherwise.

"I've barely touched you and you're already soaked. You really are just a desperate whore."

You nodded at her words, too eager to feel her, to have her fuck you, right there and then. There was no need to tease or provoke. Melissa was right there with you.

"Does my good slut remember her safe word?"

"Zucchini."

It didn't take more than a couple of seconds for Melissa to push a finger inside of you, quickly adding a second one to stretch your pussy. You took both so easily that you almost had the decency to be embarrassed about it—but it didn't matter right now. The only thing that mattered was the delicious feeling of Melissa inside of you.

She set a fast and brutal pace, her free hand reaching for the back of your head again, tugging at your hair until you arched your back.

When she changed her angle and started curling her fingers with each thrust inside your cunt, all you could do not to moan and scream was bite down on your lip. Pressure built in your guts, turning and coiling and boiling, wet arousal dripping down along your inner thighs.

Your were a mess and you knew it. You also knew that Melissa loved it.

"You're such a good girl when you want to," she commented—you swore you could hear the smirk in her voice. "You're taking me so well, baby girl."

"Mommy— Mommy, please, I'm so close—"

You closed your eyes and braced yourself.

Everything stopped.

You were clenching around nothing. Both Melissa's hands had left your body, shaking from the pleasure and desire rushing your veins.

You whined as you struggled to push yourself off the table, arms trembling under your own weight.

"But... mommy..."

"Oh, baby," she cooed, fake pouting at you, "you really thought I was going to let you come so easily? You really are nothing more than a dumb slut, hm?"

You tried to protest, but she silenced you with a hard stare.

"You better be good until we get home if you want your orgasm."

[poppy-metal]

going insane over toxic ballet au jordan!!! bc obviously the tension between u two is only going to build through rehearsals and the heat that pools in your belly when they touch you will only get harder to bear :( and they're still mean to you n you don't know how to process the fact that the way they talk to you turns you on--your dedication to dance hadn't given you much time to have physical relationships w anyone and you don't have enough experience to know wherher or not wanting them the way you do is okay :( but the fact that they haven't reported you to thw academy for getting all hot n bothered every time you dance gives you the tiniest bit of hope that they like you too.

and they do. fuck their hand every night thinking about you--the way you don't realize how filthy you look, panting from exertion and adrenaline and desire, pupils blown out when u look up at them. but fuck them, they've worked too hard to get this role and they won't throw it away just because their partner is irritating and young and naive and would look fucking unreal falling apart on their cock--pushes fantasies of fucking you dumb out of their head until they're alone w their thoughts in the shower. tries to pretend they don't want to ruin you--they know you aren't the perfect little prodigy everyone thinks you are. know that you want them. but they have too much at stake to consider doing something about it--not during performance season.

until, of course, performance season is ending--running the show for the last time in front of an audience and when you're holding the finishing pose, their strong arms holding your bodies together, they dip their head to mumble "good job." into your ear, low and out of breath and it's nothing sexual but you're flushing red. them feeling your hips twitch against their thigh, pressed so close they can feel you clench around nothing and hear you gasp, even over roaring applause, and fuck, they can't take it anymore.

getting through bows and critiques on autopilot, walking back towards the changing rooms in silence after most everyone else had left. them turning to face you when you reach their room and you gesture in the direction of your own, mumbling out an "thank you for... not dropping me, i guess. gnna go change. yeah." and you're flushed and squirming, hair that had escaped your bun framing your face, looking up at them with your doe eyes and they snap. grunt out a "for fuck's sake," and pull you into their room, closing the door behind you and you're being shoved up against it n they're kissing you hard, grabbing your hands to pin them against the wall. groaning into your mouth, running their hand down your body until they're running their finger along your slit through your tights. grunting "dripping all over my fucking thigh on stage. fucking pathetic." and you squeeze your eyes shut, head lolling against the door--whining, mouth falling open just from the pad of their finger tapping your clit through rough fabric. your now free hand coming up to cover your mouth, biting down when jordan starts circling your clit torturously slow. it doing little to muffle your desperate little noises.

yelping out a startled "jordan!!" when they lift you up by the backs of your thighs, dropping you on the couch in the corner. settling onto their knees next to you, grabbing you by the hips to pull you against them. hands slipping over your ass, grabbing at your thighs, teasing ur little hole through your sheer tights--you yelping when they grab them hard and rip them, baring your pussy to the cold room. flipping you over like you weigh nothing and bringing a hand down on your ass and the way you keen, high and needy, and roll your hips against nothing will star in their wet dreams for the rest of their life. running their fingers through your slit while you whimper, cheek smushed against the couch when you turn to look at them, letting out a broken, debauched moan when they spear you open on their fingers. "been waiting for this, yeah? filthy fucking girl. never felt like this, have you?" and you're nodding and grinding against their fingers and AAASIGJNF idfk my brain is mush

THIS IS SO SICK AND TWISTEEEEEEEEED

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)

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

pairing: yoongi x reader

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

word count: 16k 🙈

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

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

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

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

read on AO3!

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you fucking kiddin—”

“Hey.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of fucking course.

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wear glasses?”

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

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

“Wow, glasses? Really?”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.

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

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

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

“Guess so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.

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

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

“Is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, can I be honest?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am?”

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

“So are you,” Yoongi counters.

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

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

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

Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you nervous?”

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

“The Grammys?”

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you asking for my help?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He has good taste.”

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

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know Sakamoto?”

You hum a no as you shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And the Grammy goes to…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a good story.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, we’re closing in five.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re what?”

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

“In love with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was,” you echo. “Really.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-oh.”

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

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

“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”

“And?”

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

“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.

“On?” you snap, impatient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

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