#i traced this i don't think i can ever be this good lmao

[cordeliawhohung]

hey! i love all ur fics sm (esp the bodyguard gaz ones omg i ate those up like candy 😩)

u don’t have to write this if u don’t want, but tf141 (and lv, if u write for them) and body worship?(separately, not poly) like fem reader’s had a tough day or wtv, n she’s feeling insecure so they js like show her how beautiful she rlly is

could be sfw or nsfw it’s ur choice

if that’s too many characters then feel free to leave some out!

have a good day/night ‼️

babygirl gaz my beloved <3 i need to write more on that. that unofficial series is a train wreck honestly but i love them so much. and oo i do love some good body worship. i don't really write for our sweet cowboys because i'm not all too comfortable with characterizing them yet, but i'll give you some hc's of our 141 boys!

Simon

he is honestly really surprised when he first learns that you're insecure about yourself. you're the most beautiful thing in the world to him, and really he's dumbfounded you don't see yourself that way.

i feel like he's one to stand behind you in the mirror with his hands on your hips and whisper sweet affirmations to you. how he loves the curve of your nose, how your teeth peek through your lips when you smile, how your eyes always shine when you look at something you love.

he whispers this all while you're looking in the mirror because he has to make you see what he sees. he's spent his fair share of time looking at his reflection, the scars on his face, his crooked nose, and hating every moment of it. he refuses to let you do the same, and so he plans to rewrite all of those emotions.

or he can just fuck you like he does in this drabble i wrote a while ago lmao.

Kyle

he always calls you pet names that are along the lines of "pretty girl" "my girl" things like that, so when you mention something about disliking your appearance, his brain literally restarts. his pretty girl? feeling insecure about herself? that simply won't do.

i feel like his immediate reaction would be to just kiss the pain away. sort of like how parents will kiss their child's injury if they scrape their knee or bruise themself, he does that but like all over.

he's kissing your nose, your forehead, your lips (of course) but more than that. he's trailing kisses down your arms, along your stomach, your legs, all the parts of you that only the sun had ever kissed before.

and of course he's whispering praises to you the entire time. doesn't even have to be in a sexual way either. you're the love of his life, and it saddens him that you feel down about yourself. so he'll just kiss away the bad thoughts until there's nothing left but his love.

Johnny

when he hears you say something degrading about yourself, Johnny is a little too enthusiastic and excited about correcting you. you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid eyes on, and he's going to make sure you see yourself that way too.

he's definitely the most handsy out of all of the boys. he's rubbing his hands up your arms, over your stomach, tracing your spine with his fingers. but then it escalates. he's groping your tits, pawing at your thighs and ass.

really, you can't blame the man when he eventually ends up between your thighs. you're just too pretty to resist, after all. look at what you do to him! bewitching him with your beauty, turning him into a pussy drunk man that can't get enough of you.

also, this might be his way of pavloving you. conditioning you into loving yourself as he draws orgasm after orgasm out of you. no, you'll stop shying away and disagreeing when people call you pretty or compliment you, you'll just get insanely horny lmao

Price

i actually just wrote a little thing about him and body image issues last night! and really, i think he would totally do this.

the whole getting on his knees in front of you as if you were royalty, holding your hands in his, just looking up at you with so much love and adoration. he'll caress you softly while he speaks because honestly he can't get enough of you.

he'd meet your insecurities with mostly rational ideas. how your body is normal, your appearance is perfect, you're beautiful inside and out type thing. i feel like out of all the boys he might have the hardest time appealing to you emotionally with that stuff.

doesn't mean he won't try, though! he'll constantly affirm you, treat you like royalty and all that good stuff. he'll cook you a nice meal, and maybe the two of you will cuddle on the couch. really, he'll just try and fill you with so much love until you forget about what had upset you in the first place.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #f!reader #fem!reader

[sinning-23]

Twice The Fun Pt.2 (Zoro x Reader x Sanji)

WELCOME TO PT.2 you guys!!!! I know I left you on a cliff hanger uhhhh but I’m apologizing for it now lmao! The point from previously still stands! This an 18+ FANFIC SO MINORs gtfo. Uhhhh yep.

Warnings: Warnings: Tagteam, creampie, gagging, light choking, p in v, unprotected, degradation, teasing, praising, double penetration, squirting, multiple orgasms, threesome (good mf lord dude this is wild)

Anyway! Enjoy!

Ps. also….pls excuse any spelling errors. I swear I proofread my work lmao and the shit still gets away from me-

P.P.S if you're feeling the need for some mood music I suggest "All I need" by LLoyd. (you're welcome bby)

PART 1 HERE

You can’t help but thrash your legs a bit as you're drapped over Zoro’s shoulder, at this point, you have a perfect view of Sanji who is keeping a nice pace behind him.

"What is the meaning of this! Release me at once you heathen!" You taunt, gasping when Zoro lands a nice firm smack to you ass again.

"S-Sanji! You just gonna let him do that to me!" You yep, trying to guilt trip the blonde, but the only half smiled/smirked, and bent down just a smidge to met your eyes.

There is a blaze of desire you know all too well behind that blue. His tongue darts out for just a moment, his piercing peeking out so sligtly. It makes your stomach flutter.

"I do recall him saying you like that. I'll leave it to him. Besides, I think you need it when you thought you could just sneak around and fuck us both without us finding out." He explains, the color in your face dropping.

Ok so you like already KNEW but like the confirmation of it all was insane to you.

"I-I wait! I can explain!" You whimper, heart beating faster and faster the more you realized where you ere headed.

Your room.

You’d only ever really hooked up with them in their own rooms...but now they were about to absolutely MIX your shit in your own.

"Too late for that." Zoro chimes, pushing your door open and setting you a bit harshly onto your bed.

You bounce upwards and see Sanji close and locked the door. The tesnison is killing you now, the way the twoof them hover over your seated form. It as only a matter time until one of them told you to-

"Take it off." Sanji stated, less of a suggestion and more of an order.

Why were you so damn nervous?? They’d both seen you in far far less classy conditions and bare as the day you were born. You swallow, obeying and pulling offth little layers you did have. They watch you, one set of blue and one set of the darest brown, trace every fiber of your being as you pull your top off...and then your shorts.

"All of it." Zoro adds, the impatience in his voice growing.

"I-" You try to find the words but another sharp gaze shuts you up.

FUCk! There was no hiding the obvious wetness that had grown over the span of this little conversation. Might as well give themma show since they wanna act all high and mighty now.

You spread your legs, resting your body weight against your forearms as you push your chest forwards. You manage to shimmy out of your panties, letting them hang from just around your ankle for a moment before moving to let the straps of your bra slie off your shoulders.

"Y'know, you guys to act like you don't like each other, but you have soo much in common." You taunt, the bra now discarded as you lay before the two.

The obvious tightness of their pants was beginning to make you feel more and more in control. You slide off the bed, and make your way in front of them, your brain at war over who you should approach first.

"Like right now, I'd bet that both of you are begging that I choose you over the other."

You inch closer, now stationed between them, Zoro to your left, Sanji to your right, You hands travel up each leg, manicured fingers skillfully working away at two separate buttons and zippers.

Your mouth waters when your fingetips come in contact with it...

"I know you both too well. So easy to read. Even if you don't think you are."

Sanji if the first to buckle, a whine of satisfaction leaving his lips when you press down on his tip over the boxer a bit more firm than before. Though your hand works at Sanji, eventually pulling his length free, your eyes are focused on Zoro, the contact making his face heat up.

How could you looks so calm, as if you're not fisting the cook beside him. The answer is simple. You know him...too well. If there was anything Zoro loved, it was attention from you.

Even though Sanji was being touched, you were looking at him. focused on him. Gauging him. And that alone was enough to make him sigh openly, his arms crossed over his chest as if to fight the feeling you'd made wash over him. The room was definitely hotter now.

You pause for a moment, sliding your hand away from Sanji so that you could now touch Zoro with both. Easy to read. Though Sanji loved your hands, your throat was more to Zoro's liking. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, the saliva there already making its way down to the tip of you tongue as you lick from base to head.

He shudders, bitting his fist as if to fight giving into you as easily as Sanji did. He knows what you're about to do and damn if it isn’t his favorite thing. Once you made it to his tip, you let your tongue fall just a little bit past your lower lip and bobbed your head. He's at the back of your throat now and your eyes are looking right at him, watery and eager to please.

"Fuck-"

They speak it at the same time and it almost blends together.

"I didn't know she could do that," Sanji admits, pumping slowly as you continue to suck Zoro for all he's worth.

He can’t help but let his hand travel to your scalp, his grip becoming tighter when you gag a bit, saliva falling down your chin, to the valley of your chest. You always were so sloppy when you did this. Sanji groans at the sight.

"Wanna try what we practiced?" Zoro asks, feeling a bit cocky at the fact that he got something Sanji didn't.

You nod, trying your best to relax your throat as Zoro trust forward , essentially fucking your face. Your hands first clench at your sided but soon find themselves resting against his thighs. Up unto this point, Zoro had been training your throat to take every last inch of him and as of right now, practice was showing to make perfect.

"Thatssss fuckin it. Taking me down your throat like that." Zoro praises, loving how the tears rolled down you melenated cheeks.

You tapped his thigh, and he was quick to let you go, being sure to let you breathe. You gasp, saliva connecting your as your eyes scream nothing but desire.

"S-Sanji." You huff, rolling your head to the side as if to beckon him closer.

He swallows, face red after seeing you take a little more then 7 inches. You shift, now bent at the waist, still facing Zoro, but on display for Sanji to see. And fuck was it a vision. Your dripping down you thighs now, your lips wet as you try your best to spread for him.

The blonde now had his hands at your waist, caressing the plush of your sides and hips. He noted how pretty your arch looked and the way you were eager to press against him.

"Si mouillé déjà chérie?" Sanji chuckles, sliding his ring up your folds, making you whine.

"S-Stop Sanji please just fuck me." You beg, steadying yourself against Zoro, who was currently caressing your jaw as if to prep it for the stretch again.

"You heard her waiter. I’m sure she doesn’t like waiting." Zoro quips, making Sanji narrow his eyes.

"Oh I know, but tha just makes this pretty pussy's reaction that much better. You’re not the only one that's gonna be surprised by what she can do." He snaps back, pushing two fingers into you, the cold metal making you moan this time. The wet squelch of his fingers is becoming louder and louder.

Now it was Sanji's turn to be cocky. Yeah sure Zoro had fucked this pussy just as much as he had...but had he gotten it to squirt as much as Sanji could? Not likely.

His r speed up, your legs buckling as you feel yourself about to snap. And after the first few drips, Sanji curled his fingers up and pulled out, sliding over your clit with a quickness.

“F-Fuck! Sanji!” You moan, your juices sliding down your thighs, onto the floor below you, and no doubt onto tbe blonde behind you.

All the while, you gripped Zoro’s thighs, fighting the urge to scream. All he could do was watch as you came undone, the sound of you squirting alone making him harder if that was even possible.

Sanji chuckles darkly, not letting up as he decided to slide into your walls, the feeling pulling gasps from the both of you. And as your mouth opened, it was full, Zoro taking the chance to claim your throat again. It’s almost too much, being filled from both ends was so much more stimulating than you thought.

One part of you was so focused on his Sanji curved into you, hitting every spongy spot he could. The other was wanting nothing but for Zoro to finally cum down your throat.

And oh god the sounds. It’s absolutely filthy, you squelching and choking mixed with the grunts of two competing and two men just as sexually inclined as you were. It’s making your head fuzzy and your pussy flutter. And damn can Sanji tell.

“Shit, squeezing, you feel so damn good.” Sanji vocalized, gripping your hips harder now.

Zoro smirks, caressing your scalp and jawline as he thrust to the back of your throat.

“Atta girl. Keep looking up just like that.” Zoro coaxes, your eyes watery.

He lets you breathe for a moment and you find it a bit difficult to when your breaths come in and out as moans when Sanji is absolutely wrecking your shit. You snap again, Sanji pulling out, smacking his tip over your folds when you squirt again.

“Like a fuckin faucet. Can’t even stay in you, you’re so wet.” Sanji hisses, the squelching of his sliding in and out of you echoing.

Zoro releases you and all tbat comes out is a strangled moan as Sanji grips your hips.

“F-Fuck, fuck, fuck! Sanji!” You whimper, gasping when Zoro forced your gaze upwards to look at him.

“You forgetting about me? Don’t tell me that cook is fucking you better than me?”

Sanji laughs at the statement, pulling out of you again, only to have Zoro change your positions completely.

It’s only a little awkward considering your senses feel so fuzzy. Sanji is beneath tou, your back against his chest and Zoro’s managed to hold your legs up, one hand under each knee.

“Wait are you- fffuck!” You moan, Sanjis hand coming to hold your throat as he slides in, And right after Zoro doing the same.

The feeling was new. So full at once and it only got better when they moved. You couldn’t help the way your body jerked with each thrust and now with your mouth free all you could do was moan, whine, and beg for more.

Zoro’s thumb finds your clit just to make, slow, calculated circles. You’re wrecked, ducked dumb almost and all you can do if warm them before you cum.

“C’mon baby cum for us.” Sanji encouraged, his lips pressing to your shoulder as you squeeze whatever you could find to hold as your orgasm wrecks you.

It doesn’t take long for Zoro’s hips to stutter, his forehead resting against yours.

“Where?” He asks, the question coming out strained as he struggles to keep from release.

“Won’t last much longer, let us know where honey.” Sanji warns.

You can’t help but be greedy, the impulsive answer slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

It’s not long before you’re filled, and you’d never head a prettier sound when Sanji hums into your shoulder, just shy of a whimper. And you’d never felt more loved and secure when Zoro cups your cheek, his lips finally finding yours when he cums, you’re lips swallowing up any souls he lets slip.

It’s calm now. The sound of waves hitting the ship lull you into a daze almost, and as full as you’re were, you’re empty when Zoro pulls out with a grunt, a swear falling past his kiss swollen lips.

Sanji swears the same when he does the same and before you could question it, you realize just how much of their cum is leaking out of you at the moment.

“Well don’t just stand there, get a towel!” Sanji scoffs, massaging your shoulders and hips, knowing the positions you’d been in could be a bit wearing on your body.

“I’m going to, calm down.” Zoro shoots back, eventually retrieving a warm rag to clean you up.

5 star aftercare. The two had managed to work together seemingly well to make sure you were taken care of and there was no shortage of kisses and featherlight caresses. Your body was definitely spent, knees weak, muscles still tight from the exertion.

Sanji slipped one of your more comfortable t-shirts over your body and Zoro slipped a pair of socks on for you. There was little to no conversation, the three of you still trying to process what just occurred. Only did you speak when both of them had turned toward your door.

“You’re leaving...” You state, the sinking in your chest feeling heavier by the second.

“This was a one time thing right?” Zoro asks, looking to Sanji for confirmation.

The blonde only shrugs.

“What no? I want you both…” You shoot back as if it were obvious.

Sanji doves his hands in his pockets, searching for a cigarette for a moment before finally finding it. You can’t help but look between the two of them for some kind of answer. Part of you feels a bit silly for assuming they just share you but if you knew anything, and you had said it before, they were more alike than they would ever admit.

Sharing wasn’t something in their vocabulary when it came to you.

___________________________________________

Authors Note: OKAYYYY How’re we feeling YALL! Bet you weren’t expecting that ensuing huh?! Lmao got just a PINCH angsty lol, y/n can’t get everything she wants womp womp.

Uhhhh anyway my ask box is always open! If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, ideas, or requests, feel free to ask!

Make sure you drink ya water today and eat a good meal! L8TER SINNERS <33

Taglist: @atinymonbebestay @darling-din

@jaree101-blog @kaptain-rebekah

@gingernut1314 @itisjustwhatitis

#x reader #one piece #reader is black #one piece live action #i don't care he's hot #one piece x reader #smut #opla #hes so hot #zoro one piece live action #opla zoro x reader #opla zoro #zoro x reader x sanji #sanji opla #opla sanji x reader #sanji one piece live action

[mixedupmelody]

daydreaming in class.

notes: this sweet sweet boy gets humiliated every day lmao ☹️

contains: butters stotch x gender neutral reader

characters: butters stotch, mr. garrison, various students (briefly mentioned)

warnings: aged up characters, mild public humiliation, suggestive theming near the end

. ☁️ .

oh, poor Butters. poor sweet, sweet Butters. he sits in his class, head resting in his hands as Mr. Garrison drones on about his personal life. he is not listening to a WORD of it

each time he drifts off into la la land he thinks up a new scenario

sometimes he imagines himself getting up from his seat to help you with your homework. other times he's over at your house, playing video games with you, when he gathers up the courage to give you a little peck on the cheek

he'll fidget with his hands, or tap his foot excitedly when daydream-you accepts his confession

it's very obvious that he's daydreaming. you can see him reacting to everything that happens

his lips pucker slightly when he imagines kissing you, and his eyes flutter closed

he finds this so embarrassing, but sometimes he'll hold his own hand while he imagines holding yours

“ Oh, Butters. ” He imagines you say to him, as your hands wrap around his waist, peppering kisses all over his face. “ I love you so much. ”

Butters can feel his face heat up as Mr. Garrison discusses some quiz they have coming up. He tries to pay more attention, his parents would ground him if he failed, but the idea of him staying lost in thought with you seemed much more enticing.

Mr. Garrison's voice gets louder, followed by a loud laugh from the guys next to him. “ Butters Stotch! ” Mr. Garrison shouts out finally, snapping Butters back to reality just when he's getting to the good part. “ Since you know so much to where you can sit around and ignore everything I say, why don't you just come up here and do my job for me? ”

Everyone stares at Butters. Some laugh, others watch on, silently judging. Butters sinks into his seat, hoping this wouldn't end with a call home to his parents.

nsfw headcanons

sometimes, entirely on accident, his innocent daydreams take a turn

he silently cursed himself for thinking about how nice it would be to run his hands over your thighs, and to press himself against you while you make out, or to watch you while you got undressed

god, he his face was bright red.

as he gets lost in thought, he might occasionally let out the smallest whimper before trying to clear his throat

his finger traces patters over his desk, as he imagines touching you

this always makes him end up with a hard-on during class. ☹️ if he can't ask to run to the restroom to relieve himself, he just has to sit through the lecture and struggle through it

somestimes he'll be called on in class, making him quickly snap out of his fantasies

he gets embarassed when the guys sitting next to him look at him as if to ask what was wrong with him

if they ever did ask, he's quick to brush it off as nothing. but in the back on his head, he can't rid the mental image of you underneath him

#butters stotch x reader #butters stotch x y/n #butters x reader #south park x reader headcanons #south park x reader #south park x you #south park x y/n

[hopefulromances]

Character A is worried about coming off as too clingy and first. Once Character B realized how much A thrives on physical touch, they make sure they set aside enough time each day to just hold them + Jamie Tartt, plz.

Lmao two of yall requested this one at the same time. I'm in a touchy mood but I feel like Jamie is a touchstarved individual what do yall think?

(Like) crying

You noticed it slowly. At first Jamie was all over you. Not even in a sexual way but just a touchy way. He loved a good cuddle before bed or even just having a hand on you when he could. Holding your arm or hand, keeping a hand on your thigh or just somewhere on you at all times. He'd rest his head on your's, hug you tight when he said goodbye, literally anything. Like he'd never been held gently before in his entire life.

But after awhile, you noticed that he'd slowly stopped touching you as much, especially in public. Sure, at home he'd give you a cuddle or squeeze before bed but even then, it'd almost completely gone away. You thought it was you. Maybe he was getting tired of you or your body.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, lifting your shirt up to look at your stomach, running a hand over the bumps and curves. Was it you? Were you the problem in the relationship.

"What you doing?" Jamie asked, coming into the room. He walked right past you, not even giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"Jamie!" You whined, letting your shirt drop. "What's wrong... did I do something?"

"What are you on about?" He asked, turning back around to face you. You wanted to reach out and hold on to him but now you were afraid to do it.

"I... is it my body? I know I gained a little weight," you told him, closing in on yourself. "But I can be better!"

Jamie shook his head, coming over to hold your shoulders, though very delicately. "Stop, stop, stop, no. That's crazy talk, love."

You look up at him through your eyelashes and big watery eyes. "Then why did you stop touching me?"

Now it was Jamie's turn to pull in on himself. He removed his hands from your shoulders and brought them close to his chest, like he'd be struck and needed to protect himself.

You furrowed your eyebrows, recognizing the change in his demeanor. You softened moving forward to touch his face, hold it in your hands. "Jamie, honey, what's going on?"

Jamie's hands came up and held on to your wrists, rubbing the tender skin on your hands. He looked so scared, so worried, like he was afraid if he let go, you'd disappear.

"Jaim, c'mere." You sat down on the bed, letting him lay down next to you. He laid his head on your shoulder, opting to stare at your knees instead of your face. "Talk to be, bub."

He frowned, a finger tracing outlines on your leg. "I jus'... was worried that I was gettin' too clingy."

"Oh, Jamie," you cooed, bringing your arms to wrap around him. He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, shoving is face into your stomach.

You realized that it wasn't him that wasn't touching you, it was you not touching him that was the problem. Jamie was his mother's son. Meaning he thrived on giving and receiving physical touch. And you'd completely overlooked reciprocating that love. "I'm so sorry, no, please don't ever think that."

You laid there for a moment, letting him hold on to you as tight as he needed to for as long as he needed to. It wasn't often you'd seen Jamie so vulnerable. He was usually the one comforting you, but a man has his limits and Jamie had reached his. You combed carefully through his hair, smoothing out some of the out of place pieces.

"I'll be better," You said, softly. "We're gonna do this every day."

"(Y/N), we don't have to-"

"Oh, but I want to," You cut him off, pulling away to look down at him. "You think I don't want an excuse to hold you for as long as possible." You chuckled slightly, and Jamie finds it in himself to start to smile as well. You kissed his head, letting your lips linger on his forehead. "I love you so much, Jamie."

He leaned into you, and you could already see so much tension leaving his shoulders. "I love you, too."

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #drabble night #drabble #fluff #Jamie Tartt Fluff

[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 💜💜💜

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

[niki-phoria]

thank you for finally making some male!reader stuff for leon! i wish more people at least used gender neutral pronouns or were open to trying to write male readers, its tough on x reader tumblr as a trans guy!

would you ever feel comfortable writing a scenario with a trans ftm reader? like leon helping them take their injections, or just general reassurance about their identity? if not, that’s cool too! thank you for the amazing food and i hope you continue writing ! <3

pairing: leon x trans male!reader (he/him pronouns) genre: fluff word count: 881

warnings: needles, leon giving reader a shot

includes: slightly nervous leon, i'm not on t (yet ://) so maybe this is inaccurate but i googled how to give t shots lmao, i should write trans reader more

a/n: thank you for requesting :)) i'm also trans (i constantly switch between nonbinary and demiboy as labels) so i don't mind writing reqs like this at all !! i hope you like it <33

additional note: i want more leon reqs pls i love writing for him

requests open !! read my rules first

rays of sunlight shine through your opened blinds, casting the room in a gentle glow. you stir awake at the brightness and lazily blink yourself awake for a few seconds before laying back down on your bed. leon’s arm rests around your waist to keep you in his hold. 

a tranquil silence hangs in the air. you smile as you shift a little closer to him, taking the time to admire your sleeping lover. you raise a hand up to brush a few stray blonde locks behind his ear to fully expose his face. you trail your fingertips down leon’s sharp jawline. he stirs slightly at the feeling but otherwise remains in a peaceful sleep. 

your hand gently traces along his soft skin, finally resting against his cheek. it isn’t often that leon allows you to fully admire him and his beauty. you can think of countless times when he’d shrink away from you, cheeks flushed a light pink as he playfully pushed you away or covered his face with his hands. 

leon’s eyebrows furrow slightly when you brush your thumb against his cheek. he blinks a few times as he stirs awake. he smiles, pulling you a little closer to his chest. “good morning love.” his morning voice is raspier than usual. he shifts to rest his head in the crook of your neck, pressing a peck against your skin. 

“morning,” you hum. you bring your hand up, gently raking it through his hair. leon lets out a content sigh as you twist the soft strands between your fingers. his hand ghosting against your hips slides underneath your - his - shirt to rub small circles against your bare skin. “we don’t have any plans today so we can stay in bed for as long as you want.” 

leon smiles, shifting just enough so you can lean against his chest instead. “when’s your next shot?” 

“today.” you sit up to stretch your arms out as leon watches from his position on your shared bed. “i’ve actually been thinking, and… i want you to help. if you’re okay with it, of course. i know it’s a shot and you’re not a huge fan of needles but-” 

leon cuts you off by pressing a sweet kiss against your lips. he smiles when you pull away, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. “i’d be honored to help you.” 

you pull him into a final kiss before getting out of bed with a small smile. “i’ll go get everything.” 

leon is sitting up on the edge of your bed when you return. he fidgets with his fingers for a few seconds as you everything out on your bedside table before reaching over to take his hand into yours. you squeeze it gently for reassurance. “are you sure you want to do this?” 

“yeah,” he nods. “will you talk me through this?” 

“of course,” you nod. “here.” leon takes the syringe, carefully removing it from the packaging and taking the needle cover off. “push the needle down into the rubber stopper,” you instruct. leon sets the vial down on a table as your hands hover over his to help him carefully insert it. “now flip it upside down and fill it to the line.” 

“like this?” he asks, carefully taking the medication into the syringe. 

“that’s perfect,” you smile. “then pull it out and check for air bubbles.” leon carefully flicks the side of the syringe until you nod, pulling the band of your sweatpants down to expose your thigh. you chuckle as his face flushes slightly as you reach over to grab an alcohol pad to clean the skin. 

leon remains silent as you position his hands against the middle of your thigh, angling the needle correctly. “push down in one motion.” he glances up at you for reassurance one final time. you nod, gently resting your hands on top of his. “don’t worry. you’ll do great. i know you will.”

he nods, carefully pushing the needle down and then injecting the medication in a single, smooth motion. “good. that was perfect,” you smile, removing the needle yourself and setting it aside in a designated sharps box. leon’s eyes linger on your leg as you move to sit beside him once again. 

“does it hurt?” 

“the shot? no. it feels kinda like a flu shot, but… better,” you smile. leon brushes a hand against your thigh for a second before you move to pull your sweatpants back up. you move a little closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “what are you so busy thinking about?” 

leon wraps an arm around your waist as you shift to straddle his lap. his hands ghost against your hips as he leans up to pull you into a sweet kiss. “it’s just… i’m so lucky to have you. you’re smart, and loyal, and handsome,” you cut him off with a chuckle that makes him smile before he keeps going. “you’re everything i could ever hope for in a boyfriend. i’m so in love with you.” 

you smile, tilting his head up and pulling him into another kiss. leon smiles into it, lips quirking upwards against your own. you press a final peck against his lips when you pull away. “i’m in love with you too.” 

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x male reader #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil x reader #resident evil x male reader #resident evil fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x trans male reader #leon kennedy x ftm reader #resident evil x you #resident evil x y/n #resident evil x trans male reader #resident evil x ftm reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy one shot #leon kennedy scenario #leon kennedy drabble #resident evil imagine #resident evil one shot #resident evil scenario #resident evil drabble #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil fanfic #re x reader #re x male reader #re x you #re x y/n #re imagine #re one shot

[magicclownjuice]

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST x DCA AU SNIPPET FOR Y'ALL CUZ WE'VE BEEN ABSENT FOR A LONG TIME LMAO

Sun pokes and prods at Moon's consciousness inside their shared headspace softly; it's a sensation they can never get quite used to. It's very much like being crammed into a tight space with someone else; very little space to breathe, too much contact all over. There are some times where they can feel themselves merging into one, identities blurred beyond recognition, wants and needs perfectly aligned. But there are other times where their wills wrestle with one another, times where they can't reach an agreement and their body suddenly shuts down on them.

This is one of those times.

Their body lays prone atop the bed, staring at the ceiling, breathing in and out softly, chasing traces of your perfume, eyes glazed over, unseeing.

"Moon," Sun says in their headspace, "I beg of you— we need to make a move soon! I— we can't do this any longer."

Moon's discomfort grows.

He had never felt this way about someone before— granted, neither had Sun. They had never cared much about other people, much less other's opinions of them. People knew that Sun was petty, punishing, and vindictive, that he was temperamental and held terrible grudges for the slightest of offenses. Moon was equally as bad; contrary to what one may think, he had never been quite sociable despite his position as the court jester. Oh no, he pretty much hated people, and that's why he took great pleasure in humiliating them, dragging them through the mud, at least verbally.

In conclusion, they were terrible people, and continued to be, until—

They met you.

You, fiery, stubborn, sweet, gorgeous you. Everything changed when they met you, in the blink of an eye, their painful familiarity was gone, replaced by uncertainty and warmth. You, you brought light along in your stride and set their hearts on fire, and oh, how much they want to bask in your radiance now, how desperately they want to curl up around you, hold you in their arms and call you theirs.

Their body heaves an involuntary sigh, clawed hands flexing, as if to reach out, get up and go find you so they can make that small fantasy come true.

Moon tries to shake the feeling off and regain control— it's too painful, thinking about the possibility of rejection. After all, they are monsters, both figuratively and literally.

Sun falls quiet, and Moon curses the fact that they share a body and a mind; Sun can feel his emotions, hear his thoughts. And he doesn't like them one bit; they stab him in all his soft, vulnerable spots.

Moon speaks, finally, even though it's unnecessary for them to communicate.

"Look at us, Sun. Do you think they'll ever see any good in us?" His voice trembles, almost a whisper, but Sun hears it loud and clear. "And even if they did now— once they know of our past, they'll leave. They'll be disgusted, they'll hate us—"

"You don't know that—"

"Neither do you."

They both fall quiet. It's true. They don't know, they will never know. Sun's resolve to confess is snuffed out at once.

The line between their selves becomes blurred once again.

"After all," their voices ring out as one, outloud. "Who could ever learn to love a beast?"

A single tear rolls down their body's cheek.

#magi's fics #magi's writings #my art #my writing #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #fnaf #the daycare attendant #dca #fnaf moon #moondrop #fnaf sun #sundrop #fnaf sb daycare attendant #fnaf the daycare attendant #daycare attendant #dca fandom #dca fanart #batb x fnaf sb #batb #beauty!y/n #beauty and the beast #beast!eclipse #fic #batb au #eclipse fnaf sb #fnaf sb eclipse x y/n #fnaf sb eclipse #moondrop x y/n #sundrop x y/n

[inkiedraws]

just discovered your blog couple of days ago AND IM IN SHOOK i havent in my life seen such gut wrenchingly amazing anatomy my jaw is on the ground LIKE REALLY your doffy is my EVERYTHING DAMN idk if you shared it somewhere but can i ask you to wield us the secret knowledge of what resources you mostly used for studying anatomy?? cause im really curious your stuff is literally gold omfg

Thank you so much! There's way better anatomy artists out there but i'm happy that people like what i'm doing!

And hmm that's a question with several answers so i'm just gonna give a list on what helped me the most!

Also i'm just a hobby artist so keep that in mind when reading! I have no idea what professionals do lmao.

1: Don't be afraid to find you own way of learning! Everyone process information differently and if you feel a certain way helps you learn then use it!

2: Don't just look at people with defined muscles! Look at people with very different body shapes and sizes. Human anatomy for artists is a site i often use! (lots of tasteful nudity in the link, be aware)

3: Practice your muscle memory as much as your sight! By tracing pictures of naked people, you'll be able to feel what is actually going on in the image!

This is a big one because i recently discovered that i'm the kind of person that learns by feeling the movement of what i'm looking at.

Now i'm able to pick up on little details that i otherwise wouldn't have seen! And i (usually) get my drawings right immediately, without needing to do this before. :)

If you ever struggle pin-pointing what is wrong with your drawing, try this out and see if it works! Hopefully you'll go "AH so that's how it's supposed to look like."

4: Look at videos and photos of people wrestling and MMA fighting (or any other marial arts. Great way of learning how physics work. And dancers too!!

5: Pay attention to how skin reacts! By that i mean do weird movements in the mirror and see how your skin moves and stretches.

6: When using a reference make sure it's right beside your canvas. Then dart your eyes quickly back and forth and see what part of your drawing looks different from what you're looking at!

7. No matter how much you think "I understand how this muscle work now" there will always be at least one photo of a person that makes you go "What??" because muscles are fucked up and can look way differently in certain angles.

8: If you can't find a good reference take a photo of yourself in the mirror. It doesn't matter if you don't look like the character you're drawing, as long as it gives you some idea how it should look, it's fine!

There's way more but these are the main things i keep in mind when drawing anatomy!

#i also have a bunch of artists i like but that would be a very long list

[duskymrel]

Leons Kingscholar x Tsundere!Reader

Synopsis: Leona thinks you're a real b****. That is, until he discovers your secret soft spot: children.

Tw: Swearing, could be interpreted as fem reader but i personally think anyone can have motherly instincts

-Leona thinks you're a real bitch.

-You have a quick temper and and you're always so cold towards everyone.

-And you're always nagging at him to do his work and actually go to class.

-Ugh, what an annoying herbivore.

-Anyways, Leona gets the unfortunate news that the little brat is coming to visit for a few days. (Cheka) Apparently he had begged his father to let him visit his "Unca Leona".

-Great.

-So Cheka arrives, and honestly Leona craves death right how.

-Homie just wants to sleep. 😔

-Anyways, Ruggie called you and asked you for a favor. You didn't know that you were going there to help him watch Cheka, because Ruggie may or may not have intentionally left that little tidbit of information out. So you walk in to the Savanaclaw dorm.

-And you see him.

-One of Leona's eyes lazily peels open when he hears you cooing.

-He really didn't expect to see you of all people kneeling in front of Cheka, ruffling his hair and squeezing his adorable little cheeks. He can practically see the hearts in your eyes.

-Bro your maternal instincts went into overdrive.

-So now you're pretty much Cheka's mom until his stay is over. And Cheka absolutely loves you. Leona's surprised to find that you're surprisingly good with kids??

-He asked you how an asshole like you could be so good with children.

-Of course, you got pissed and punched his arm. What a prick. 🙄

-Then you explain to him that you were the oldest of four back in your world, and by a lot. Your siblings were 8, 12, and 15 years younger than you. (It's my oneshot I'll project if I want.)

-So being so much older than your little siblings, you developed a strong material instinct. You loved kids!

-Leona didn't expect that. You? The bitchy little herbivore? Being good with children? Wild.

-So over the next few days Leona watches you take care of Cheka, and he's kind of impressed. Unlike how you were with him, or anybody at NRC tbh, you were patient and kind with Cheka. You played with him, and honestly you acted goofy and laid back than he's ever seen you.

-And he noticed you smiled more with Cheka.

-"Heh, it looks like you're doing a good job taking care of the little shi-"

-You grind your heel into his foot as hard as you can before he can finish his sentence.

-No cursing around the little one. 😤

-He finds you asleep with Cheka one afternoon. You looked so... peaceful. Not a trace of irritation or annoyance on your face. He can't explain why, but he felt the urge to get a blanket and cuddle up with the two of you. He shook his head, trying to ignore his brain, and walked off.

-(Dude's a tsundere too lets be honest.)

-Once it's time for Cheka to leave, he's sad.

-He doesn't wanna leave his Auntie Y/N :(

-But you comfort him and give him a little peck on the top of his head. He can come visit you again, don't worry kiddo!

-The next day you're as cold as ever. But Leona can't help but remember how you were when you were around Cheka. You had such an adoration and love in your eyes when you were with kids.

-What would it take for you to look at him with the same affection as you did with Cheka?

Homeboy's down bad and doesn't even realize it lmao.

I take requests! Feel free to ask. I'll do anybody from TWST, and will write anything except NSFW, incest, pedophilia, noncon, etc. (Anything with Grim will be platonic.)

Hope you enjoyed!

#Brought to you by: my malapative daydreaming #Been thinking about this one all day #Twisted wonderland #leona kingsholar x reader #Twst #Twst x reader #Twst x y/n #Twst x MC #Leona x reader #Leona x MC #Leona x y/n #Leona Kingscholar x MC #Cheka #leona kingscholar #dusky writes

[glowingbadger]

hello! can i request body worship and seteth 💕

that dragon man of cloth dilf makes me act up so badly, I want to spoil and pamper him so bad- SETETH LET ME LOVE YOU !!!!!!!!

I need a Seteth break goddamnit let's DO IT Seriously all of my prompts having to do with him are always a thousand times easier and more engaging for me than for most other charracters lmao I'm done pretending I don't play favorites

For the record I'm pretty sure I ended up filtering out a few Body Worship requests because I just got so many and it's a pretty vanilla kink even by the standards of that list lmao (those two factors are probably very related) but I kept a couple for my fav and/or less commonly requested characters

Reader-chan ended up pretty talkative in this one lol but that's because Seteth needs to be told how hot he is, and that's that.

Seteth (FE3H) x GN!Reader

Kink prompts list #2 - body worship

NSFW 18+

Your thighs fit snug around Seteth's hips as you straddle him on his bed, then press your bare body flush to his and kiss him. He groans into your mouth when your tongue eagerly meets his, and while he seems surprised by your aggressive advances, it's not long before his fingers are dragging through your hair while his free hand grips hard at your hip. You've learned by now that Seteth can be passionate- practically ferocious, under the right circumstances, and tonight you want him urgently.

Your fingernails drag down his torso from above his undershirt, and his breeches barely contain the potent throbbing of his growing member against you. His fingers tighten in your hair, guiding your head aside so he can kiss down the side of your throat.

"You are... enthusiastic tonight, my love," he whispers to you, lips lingering close enough that you can feel the graze of his beard on your skin.

"Of course I am," you say, "I've been thinking about this ever since training today. You don't often join routine training with the others," you go on, your tone unabashedly lustful as you nip at the shell of his pointed ear, "It's a rare treat to get to watch you like that- and I know I wasn't the only one looking."

He scoffs, turning his head and muttering,

"Dearest, that's..."

"Objectively correct?" you retort playfully, lifting yourself over him enough to get a clear look at his face, while not relieving any of the pressure of your lower body against his.

"That's not- it's, it's patently ridiculous..!" the hand not occupied at your hip shyly covers his mouth, and he refuses to meet your eye. You've seen Seteth flustered plenty of times by now- it's not hard to do, when he keeps himself so tightly wound -but this bashfulness is new. You smile, an eyebrow slightly quirked.

"Seteth," you say with play-admonishment, "Do you seriously not know that you're incredibly handsome?"

He's silent for a moment, then exhales and says with his gaze still stubbornly averted,

"I... have not considered my physical appearance often, these past centuries. Aside from maintaining a level of decorum given my station, and the obvious need to conceal some things," you nod, knowing he's referring to the ears you find so charming, "I suppose that as long as you are pleased, the rest is... immaterial."

"Well, I am certainly pleased," you say while you indulgently run your hands down the front of his body, feeling how his muscles tense beneath his shirt, "But now I think I need to help you realize just how attractive you actually are."

"My love..."

You take his hand in yours, and hold it cradled against your cheek for a moment.

"To start, I adore your hands," your touch is gentle as your fingers trace the strong but elegant line up his forearms to his hands, enjoying the handsome veins and contours of them. Seteth's complexion is dyed pink as he watches you with rapt attention, and you kiss his each of his fingers in turn.

"You're always so good to me with them, too," you say, and when your tongue circles his fingertip and your teeth offer him a single playful nip, you feel his cock throb at your inner thigh. Slowly, so he can watch, you kiss down his palm to his inner wrist, where you grant him one more teasing bite. His brow furrows, and he breathes out your name like a secret- like a blasphemy he might conceal even from the Goddess herself. Still, your focus is unwavering.

Your hands run down his arms, and you can feel his hair stand on end with each inch you pass over.

"Your arms are so strong, I love that you can hold me, pin me down, position me however you like- you make it look effortless."

"It feels effortless," he says, his voice low and laden with lust, "when you make me desire you so fervently."

"Mmm, but you're even more sexy when you exert yourself," your grin becomes ever more coy, and you wiggle your hips just enough to rut yourself against his sizeable erection.

"Sexy?" he utters a dismissive sound like a short laugh, though his face is a dark and ruddy red now. It's a foreign sounding word, in his voice, and you wonder if he's ever spoken it before.

"Extremely sexy," you reply, and now you run your hands warm along his chest. You enjoy the swell of the pectoral muscles you'd stolen glances at earlier that day, when the lightweight shirt he'd worn for training had clung there to his sweat dewed skin. "I almost didn't want the others seeing you like that at training. But then, I do like to brag about you, so maybe it's not so bad."

"De- Dearest, surely you don't-"

"You didn't think soldiers talk about the weather over our post-battle drinks, did you?" you smile sweetly as you open the remaining lower buttons of his undershirt and push his clothes out of the way.

"Well, certainly not but-"

"I love the looks on their faces when I tell them about how gorgeous your body is. Your chest..." you trail a single finger down the central line of his torso as you speak, "Your abs... all of these beautiful old scars... and aaaall the way down to this wonderful little trail of hair," Seteth shivers as your fingernail drags down the line of hair from his lower stomach leading down below the hem of his pants. Then, without a word, you tug the front of those breeches down and free his towering manhood, throbbing and crowned with a touch of precum. You run your hand tenderly up its length, admiring its sheer mass, the heat of it in your palm, the bulging veins. It's obvious how your words have provoked him, and the realization only encourages you further.

"And this cock- Goddess, Seteth, do you even know how many men would give anything to be half your size?"

"That's- well, given my, er, unique heritage, it's hardly- that is, my size is more typical of men of my kind," self-consciousness has him babbling, and you hold back a laugh. If he weren't so desirable, he'd be utterly adorable. You watch him with both lust and adoration as you stroke up and down the length of his shaft, pumping his cock steadily until you see his lips slightly part and his breath start to quicken.

"Darling, please," he says, his eyes shining with earnest desire, "I am not certain how much more of this I can endure..."

"Oh?" you sweetly laugh, rubbing your thumb in firm circles around his tip until you feel it slicken with even more precum, "You're surprisingly weak to flattery."

"Only from you."

He inhales slowly as you release his cock and shift forward on his lap. Seteth is nothing if not an expert in restraint, yet you catch the way his hands flex tight at your hips when you settle with his throbbing member snug against your lower body. You're well aware- by the time he starts showing outward signs of impatience, he's near delirious with need for you, fighting the urge to ravish you completely. But you're not satisfied just yet. He needs to know the extent of your longing for him, how positively alluring he is, how his body drives you mad with lust.

Your hands travel tantalizingly back up his tight musculature as you lean down over him once more and comb your fingers into his hair as your lips lightly brush his.

"That's good," you murmur softly, "because I'm not nearly done worshiping my favorite Saint."

#kink prompt #fire emblem #fe3h #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem smut #seteth #seteth x reader #fire emblem x reader #seteth fire emblem #fe3h x reader #not sfw #body worship #few3h #fire emblem three hopes

[ghostedcas]

As I sadly can't find any comfort fanfics to do with the reader having burns from fire.

Could you pls write one with William Afton, like the reader is feeling down about them.

If not then it's okay

i absolutely can sweet nonnie !! <3

i wasn't sure what extent you wanted the burns severity to be so i just kinda went with the flow and didn't fully specify, i hope it's alright. i really hope this is up to your expectations, sorry it's so short though :((

william afton x gn!reader

word count: 455

warnings: mentions of trauma, mentions of being burned in a fire, mentions of house fires, mentions of scarring and burns, mentions of death and near death experiences, mentions of death of loved ones, mentions of death of a pet, william calls reader doll. probably ooc william. despite all that angst i swear it's fluffy ToT

a/n: i really hope i was able to do this justice, if i get anything wrong about what it's like to have burn scars please let me know so i can keep it in mind for future requests/fics! <3 also i worked on this while i was in line for the food bank lmao

--------

you had curled up under the blankets on the couch as you watched the movie you had selected on netflix. snuggled in a hoodie and baggy sweat pants, you were feeling a little upset over the burn scars on your arms and legs.

nothing in particular had happened to trigger the insecure feeling today, you had just woken and the feeling overwhelmed you. you had tried to continue on with your day, you really truly did. you had gotten the dishes done and that was it. that was all you had the energy for.

that's how you ended up drowning in blankets and curled up on the couch watching some shitty drama on netflix when william came back home from work.

"love, i'm back! oh-" william called out as he entered the house, tall frame walking through the doorway of the living room and his eyes landed on you. "what's up?"

"just feelin' sad." you responded with a mutter.

"wanna tell me what about?"

"not really... it's dumb."

"well then that's even more of a reason to tell me. so i can tell you to stop being so dumb." william teased, earning a dissatisfied whine from you. "oh come on, my love. tell me what it is. i can't help if you don't tell me"

"just... my burns. do you think they make me ugly?" you ask meekly, pulling the blankets tighter around your body.

"what? where is this coming from? your burns don't make you ugly, my love. you are the most stunning thing i have ever seen, doll. your burns make you interesting and unique. you don't think the scars on my body are ugly. don't be so negative with yourself." the british man says firmly yet softly as he grabs your face in his hands, his touch cold.

"you are perfect, just as you are. even with all your so called baggage." william assured you further, making sure to give mention to your history, the house fire you gained both your physical and mental scars in; having lost your mother and beloved family dog.

he pulls you, and the mass of blankets surrounding you, close as he sits on the couch, leaning down to kiss your forehead. he held you to his chest in silence for what felt like both hours and minutes, cold and bony fingers gently tracing shaped into your back through the layers.

"feeling any better?" will chimes up after a few minutes.

"yeah, i am."

"good, can't have my pretty doll feeling down. especially about their looks." he chuckles.

and suddenly it's hard to feel insecure about the burns as you feel his fingers gently, lovingly tracing the scarred skin of your arm to lull you into relaxation.

#william afton x reader #william afton x reader fluff #william afton fluff #casper writes #ghostedcas #casper's 💌

[mazeinthemiroh]

I see your request is open and I'm excited to make one ❤️😭 can I request how ateez would react on trying period cramp simulator?? Like their s/o brought them the device and forces them to have a taste of how it feels to be at the verge of dying every once a month 🤧

ateez reactions to a period cramp simulator

genre: full crack, lmao

word count: 0.7k

warnings: mentions of a pain kink, cursing

authors notes: lowercase intentional. thank you so much for requesting, honestly you made my day this was such a good idea of yours! i really enjoyed writing this, the thought of it is so freaking funny to me idk why 😭 anyways i really hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

hongjoong

i can just imagine his face dropping when you tell him what that device in your hand was for. you can see his fear building in his eyes. he would throw some excuse at you like "oh yeah for sure i will do that but uhh maybe another time? i'm too busy atm baby" or "nah i'm tired rn, but it sounds like a great idea don't get me wrong *eye twitch*" obviously you don't give his excuses the time of day, walking over and pulling his shirt up, telling him "well my period comes at inconvenient times too. when nature calls you'll just have to deal with it-" "YEAH BUT IT ISN'T NATURAL FOR ME??"

seonghwa

he thinks you're joking at first ngl. he lets out a soft little chuckle at your idea, but when he sees you're actually serious all laughing stops. will hold your hand and squeeze it extremely hard like its a birth simulator instead of a period one because he is ✨STRUGGLING.✨ afterwards he will probably be like "babe, i had no idea this was so painful 🥺🥺🥺" and proceed to buy you mountains of chocolates, flowers, sanitary products, everything. he's so supportive <3

yunho

baby asks what he has done wrong 😭😭 like, what has he done to deserve this?? but you have to reassure him like "noooo, you didn't do anything wrong i was just curious and wanted to try it." he's giving you the biggest, most adorable puppy eyes he could ever muster but he eventually lets you have your little experiment. and regretfully so. i feel like yunho has pretty good pain tolerance but still, he has never had this amount of pain in that specific area so he's amazed

yeosang

"no" "yes" "no" "yes" "i'm not doing that" "yes you are". it will take a lot of bickering before yeosang gives into you, rolling his eyes when you sort out the device on him. you start on the lowest setting but because he was arguing with you before you turn the pain level up, and up, and up. "yeah its not that ba- ah!" he winces as it gets worse and worse. "there is no way you go through this every month??"

san

gets all pouty and starts whining when you put the device on him. "y/nnnn ahh have a not been a sweet boyfriend to you? treated you right? why must i suffer????" when you finally turn on the simulator, at first he's like "...oh... yk what i think i can do this actuall- LORD HELP ME" you'd think those rock hard abs of his could withstand the pain but man is trying to fight back tears over here-

mingi

mingi thinks he is going to die. his pain tolerance is not that best so this simulator thing is pretty unbearable for him. at some point you gotta take pity on the guy and low the pain because you can see in his eyes that he's hurting so much <///3 after this littel experiment is over, he is panting and glaring at you. "right, no cuddles for you for the rest of the week!" this little protests literally lasts an hour, tops

wooyoung

"so what you're saying is that you have a pain kink" "wha- wooyoung!" "why else do you want me to do this?" he laughs his obnoxious hyena laugh ily wooyoung and he's obviously teasing you and turning it into a joke but there's no deny the trace of hesitance in his eyes. anyways long story short, you have to tackle and restrain him to put the device on. you don't know if he's being his super dramatic self or if he is in actual pain but he is not having a good time, nope. he's definitely gonna get you back for this one.

jongho

would probably laugh and shrug. he likes a good challenge and i feel like he has good pain tolerance too?? so he's like "sure, why not ig?" but as the cramps start to increase in frequency and pain, in his mind he starts to regret his decision. his face is blank for most of the time because you're just staring at him waiting to see his reaction. he sorta purses his lips and mutters "are we done yet?" and you smile and shrug "nah we still got the highest setting to go." oh shit.

#ateez #atz #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #atz x reader #atz fluff #ateez crack #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #seonghwa #yunho #jeong yunho #yeosang #kang yeosang #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #jongho #wooyoung #san #choi san #mingi #song mingi #ateez x reader #requested #kpop #kpop reactions

[astrolavas]

i think it’s kind of interesting with the hexside tracks convo. i actually think construction magic is the only coven-specific type of magic we’ve ever seen hunter do? with that big earth fist he whacked amity with in eclipse lake. i don’t know if that would be an argument for or against him taking it as a class, but i feel like everything else we’ve ever seen him do is like,, not tied to a coven besides that one spell

(this is related to this old post but i put the answer in my drafts and the option of posting it vanished from my memory lmao)

tbh that IS true, i forgor it can be technically considered construction magic kxjsjks

i feel like there are so many spells and different "sub magic types" and magic courses that are kinda unclear which track they'd be taught at or where they fall under, especially since there are some tracks/magic types that we've only seen used in a very general way; like construction or oracle. we've seen manyyyy possibilities for some tracks, like abomination (like what darius vs alador vs amity can do, how differently it can be used) or bard (how at first glance it just feels like a "yeah we use instruments to fight and do spells" but then we also find out how much you can truly do with it and how much actually falls under bard magic through raine) or illusions (everything that gus, and graye, have been shown to do) etc. but some tracks/covens we have really just been kinda... shown from a very surface level lol

hell, i still wonder why anyone would ever choose a potion coven in a world during belos' reign, where you have to choose to only have one magic type, because... from all we've seen it seems like in order to make potions you don't really need any magic (having magic can help but it's not necessarily needed) so what magic DO you get??? you have to get something (maybe magic that can assist you in making potions?) but we have no clear idea what. also considering how oftentimes potion-making is also tied in with other magic types (like plants or healing or beast-keeping) it almost feels like it should be a sub-type of each magic or an addition rather than its own thing. BUT KXJSHSK YEAH like, we don't know! i wish it was more clearly fleshed out in the show.

there's also the fact that now that belos is gone, the society is able to take back their culture and history and practices that were lost to time and as we can see in the epilogue they're actively working on making the boiling isles less... belos-influenced. they're working on that process of decolonization and it's going to be a long LOOONG while until traces of belos' impact completely disappear, but there are already clear changes. the sky is clear again (just like it was in the "savage ages" - a contrast to the pollution we see in the emperor's coven era), palismen are being carved again and palistroms are coming back from being endangered, selkidomus is doing good, the once a police precinct in latissa is now a hospital and the hostile architecture around it (the spikes) is gone, there's now a way to remove sigils and everyone is free to pursue whatever they want. the society is healing. etc.

and covens, magic being split into these clear subtypes- was not ever really something natural. like yeah, there ARE magic types that seem very clearly "thematic" like you can very clearly separate bard magic from plant magic, and a witch can be naturally skilled in a particular thing (like willow or gus) but there are also some spells that overlap and some that seemingly don't fit into any covens at all. belos made up covens in order to limit witches' bodily autonomy and control their abilities, in order to seem more powerful and to create this structure of power. so i imagine that if you are in a coven, in any coven, there are spells that don't quite fit any of them, or some that fit all.

i. ngl i completely derailed the ask and forgot where i was going with this LMAO but yeah

#but yeah i feel like technically even if hunter had 'done' a construction-type spell it's not sth he's like Specifically interested in #BUT he's also interested in magic in general so i'm guessing it still Would be interesting to him to a degree #just not his main interest but some interest nonetheless! he'd be excited to try and learn what he can #nicole answers #Anonymous #my toh talk

[spoops-screams]

| Gentle

Character(s): Malleus Draconia

TW: None

Genre: Fluff

Notes: Gender neutral MC || Good morning <3 || Sometime I really do feel like Malleus is the only character I can write lmao. And then I realise he's my comfort character and I'm allowed to be like that about him

Malleus smiles at you and you feel your heart stutter in your chest and your breathing stop.

You're exhausted, having spent the entire night up talking to him, not wanting to go to sleep so you could take advantage of every moment that you had with him.

You're exhausted but you don't think you'd ever felt so awake in your life.

He's perfect. The dim light from the windows almost glows around him in the early morning and he's shining.

Not so much that it was blinding but it's almost ethereal, so perfect, as if carved out of stone by only the most patient hand and too much for you to believe that you were permitted to be this close to him.

You can feel his tail, heavy as it wraps around you and lays contentedly over your legs to"keep you from escaping" as he liked to jest and his wings that shield you in a protective gesture.

His hair lays around him - some stands tickling at your skin - in a dark sea, peaks of blue showing in his hair as sunlight settled on it and his eyes glow so warmly.

You meet them, hues of raw emerald and spun gold and pupils blown wide shadowed by lashes that cast slight darkness over them as he looked down at you - not fully awake after your night up with one another with just the dimmest hints of sunlight peaking through his window - and your chest tightens again and you really can't help but stare, too scared to breath, as if it would break what your mind can only imagine to be the image of perfection right in front of you.

Your eyes trace over his face and move along from his eyes and his lashes to lips that curl up into an adoring smile which you watched turn into more of a smirk as he continued to watch you in silence.

Your hands follow slowly, moving up his chest to his face, until you can hold his face in your hands.

You pull yourself up to meet him more than you do pull him down, lips pressing against his - slowly, gently, again with the same delicacy as you hold your breath to prevent the moment from shattering.

You kiss him again and again, never wavering in your gentle touch on his face, absentmindedly tracing his cheeks and rubbing small, light circles on his skin with your thumb. You kiss him until the both of you are breathless and out of the little energy you had though really you could only speak for yourself.

He's warm, comforting, and you can't bring yourself to fully pull away when you part and is content yourself with nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

He laughs lightly, a rumbling sound that you can feel on your chest as much as you can hear it and you can feel a hand reach up to rest on your head.

You focus on the steady beating of his heart and the feeling of his wings and talk tightening around you as you fall asleep, eyes closing not of your own accord, and you can feel the kiss that he presses to the top of your head.

Do not repost or claim. Only reblog 💕

#twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst malleus #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #twst fanfiction #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland fanfic #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst fluff #malleus x reader #malleus fluff

[theaveragepsychoticbitch]

After freaking out over my old writing I've decided to start a "series" of sorts where I just focus on the deeper side of touch between characters.... Basically that one time I wrote about touch but with other ppl lmao.

GN!Reader x Leviathan (Obey Me) || Shibari for comfort, no actual sex, Levi's insecurities, two dick Levi ftw, demon form, sexual content

You slip two fingers beneath the thick material, looking at the blushing demon in askance. "Is this too tight?"

Leviathan shivers, feeling out the intricate knots used to capture him. Every move is accompanied by the feeling of soft red rope sliding over his skin. It was tight, but only enough to keep him restrained. Relaxing into the comforting feeling the bondage provided, he said "Yes..."

You leave the bed, taking your seat across the room and simply staring at him.

Your eyes land on first on his face, carrying an expression so serene you'd thought he'd fallen asleep. His blush is darkened by the blood moon shining through the window, turning beads of sweat to drops of blood and making the pink color of his dicks seem ever more sinful.

Despite his earlier embarrassment, he seemed calm now. Relaxed, knowing you were in control. The restraints seemed to ground him, physical ties keeping his mental together. Like this, he can fully enjoy having you right there, enjoy you enjoying him.

You scoot closer in the chair. Sensing that you've come in range, his tail curls around your arm, and you scratch it, placing your free fingers lightly on his chest.

He tenses some, waiting for you to continue.

Gently, your fingers trace his hot skin. Feel the outlines of relaxed muscles, Leviathan's deep, steady breaths, the slow yet powerful beat of his heart. You feel like if you got close enough, you'd hear the blood rushing to his dick too.

You smile amusedly at the thought, trailing down to where both his cocks stood tall and leaking, the occasional twitch making beaded precum fall from one shaft to the other, to the stained bedsheets below.

"Perfect. Everything about you.... I wouldn't change it for all the riches in the world." He tensed, cocks jumping as a spurt of precum sprayed from both. You watch his lips, see them break and bleed as he holds back his moans.

You rest your hand on the top one, blowing over the tip and watch as he shivers and jerks. You don't stroke him; rather, you run single digits over the veins. Squeeze and massage his balls, press loving kisses to his slits.

You'd think it'd be too much for him, but a quick glance at his face leaves you proud. He's taking it all so well. The concentrated scrunch of his eyebrows and pout of his lips. You leave a quick kiss there, his own taste lingering on his lips.

For Levi, he could withstand the touches. You loved touching him, and the ropes combined with your familiar feel helped a lot. No, it wasn't the touching that made him concentrate so hard...

What really got him?

The praise.

No matter how often you said it, he doesn't think he'll ever get used to how earnestly you say "I love you."

It's strange to be told he's "perfect". That he deserves good things, that he's doing well, that's he's making someone- you -proud. You're happy to simply see him, when for so long he's hated seeing himself. To bare himself to you, in body and mind, and still have you love him...

You kiss his lips, deeper this time. It's too much, far too much. But he wouldn't have it any other way.

Not unexpectedly, both cocks erupt, sending thick white ropes all over the both of you. It doesn't faze you though, and the kiss continues, deep and loving. You hear a rumble in his chest, almost like a purr, his tail wrapping tighter around you.

When you finally release each other, you go back to staring. He stares back this time, your eyes remaining locked while he catches his breath.

"So good..." You say, swiping off some cum with your thumb and placing it on your mouth. "Even your taste is good..." You gaze at him through your lashes, watching the bashfulness swirl in his eyes.

You scoot back again, loathe as you are to untangle his tail from you. He sighs, throwing his head back as his fills with thoughts about you again, what he wants to do with you, for you, what he wants you to do to him, for him. And across the room, you're quiet, head no less filled with thoughts about him.

Quietly, you settle into your seat, and watch.

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A/N: I didn't spell check this and probably don't intend on immediately spellchecking any of these since they're just practice. First time (ish) writing for Leviathan, how'd I do?

Comments are appreciated and encouraged, thank you for reading, gn cuz I once again wrote when I should have been sleeping.

#obey me smut #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me shall we date #leviathan smut #leviathan x gender neutral reader #leviathan x reader #umm what should i call this series? #Err.... #the psychotics writing #writing touch #simple and straight forward aye? #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me demon brothers

[itoshi-s]

Don't worry I feel the same way about mochi ice cream D: the texture is great!! But the flavor....ehhhh. Also, Rin needs a psychologist gf lmao he and so many other boys (like Reo and Nagi) could benefit from having a partner with the analytical thought process and emotional maturity to call them out on shit and give them advice 😂😂😂

Out of curiosity btw, have you ever thought about what lipstick color/or chapstick flavors the bllk boys would like?? Reo supposedly like older, classy women so he seems like a vintage red lip guy with maybe a minty chapstick. Nagi, Isagi, and Rin seem like pink boys for sure but different shades. Bachira is a fruity flavor and likes the wholeeee color palette

aaaAaA pls the psych girlfriends …… yes absolutely </3 rin would HATE the thought of it, but eventually learn that it actually has its perks. nagi wouldn’t realize that it’s helpful 2 hear someone’s pov and actually give him some good insight on what’s going on w his thoughts. reo actively asks u for advice & wants to hear your opinion!!!! it’s not like he’s going 2 make use of it immediately tho lol he’s so baby :( but yes definitely agree. this is extremely self-indulgent but yes all of these stressed out emotionally constipated men need a psychologist s/o. end of story i am actually assigning them one as we speak :,3

as for the lipsticks !!! this idea is so cute omg ^_^ for starters reo is definitely into red, cool toned and rich!! matte or lacquered, it doesn’t really matter, he just loves the color in overall. it’s very classy && he’s absolutely into that. also may i add,, lipsticks stains…..oh he goes cRAZY. as for chapstick flavors yes! def something minty, nothing too weird, he likes the way it feels cool when he gives u kisses!

bachira is so fun omg he truly does like all the colors on u,, it’s so hard 4 him to pick a favorite he just loves them all :( watches you apply it in the mornings &&he’s so giddy ‘cause you can pull off anything and he likes how fun it looks. fruity chapsticks are a must, even better if u have a few different flavors and he makes it a little game to guess which one is it that you’re wearing today >_<

yes !! rin, isagi, & nagi all love pinkish shades. there's something so cute about it! i'd say rin is into nude-ish colors, the kinda pink that looks like your lip color but better, and loves if you wear a darker lip liner w/ it <33 it makes your pout pop nd he just cannot stop thinking about it!!!! chapstick flavor - anything sweet :( the sweeter the better. coconut, vanilla, or some other fancy stuff, he loves to lick his lip and taste the remaining traces!

isagi is more into lip gloss i feel like !! he doesn't discriminate between shades, but pink just does it for him. it makes your complexion all dewy and fresh and he likes how sweet it makes u look :< also adores the way ur lipgloss leaves stains on his cheeks and stains his lips a soft pink as well whenever u smooch him. somethin about yoichi strikes me as a simple,, lovely lovely guy and so i think his fav chapstick is just plain strawberry!!!! mmhm

last but not least, nagi likes u in a little toned down pinks. liquid matte, preferably,, so that it's not a pain later when u kiss him and leave marks :x BUT i'd say he also has a think for darker lip colors, i'm thinking a nice deep chocolate brown or perhaps a brown-ish gloss, i'm thinking of that one fenty heat shade..... it catches his attention, makes your lips so vibrant and accentuated, he cannot resist it!!!!! loves ur cola flavored chapsticks

#✧.* ✉ zari’s mail #blue lock x reader #blue lock headcanons #bllk x reader #this was so cute :3 aaaaaa