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#it's not looking well for me i'll say that much 🥴

oukabarsburgblr · 2 months

Note

honestly would love a continuation from the karasuno version, but like at the same time i want the seijoh version 😭😭

i cant choose huuu, tho whatever u decides to write im sure it'll be great (still tho karasuno continuation got me vv 🥴🥴)

Bullying the First Year Pt. 2 [ONESHOT] [HQ KARASUNO]

I'll give you both💜 but the seijoh part will probably take a few days since i dont want the seijoh ver. to be an exact replica of karasuno with diff names and i want to finish watching s2 so i can capture their character properly. I hope you enjoy!

FEATURING : DAICHI SAWAMURA, SUGAWARA KOUSHI, ASAHI AZUMANE x male reader

Continuation of Part 1! Set in Season 2 during Away Games. Drabble!

NSFW stuff, DUBCON AF

Find out more under the cut!

"Ne, Sugawara...Looks like you guys finally got along with (m/n) huh?"

The setter who was drinking from his water bottle turned to Tanaka. The second year glancing at the male manager who was being harassed by Hinata about how cool his spike was. Sugawara only tilted his head in innocent faux. "What do you mean?"

Tanaka hummed as he swirled his bottle. "Well...usually you guys have this weird tension. And Daichi doesn't talk to him but yesterday I saw the captain and (m/n) walking home together and they looked like they were fine." Ennoshita chipped in. "So I wasn't imagining it. Asahi seemed like he always tried to provoke (m/n), but now they're okay with each other. Did anything happen between you guys?"

Tanaka and Ennoshita only asked Sugawara because he was the most approachable out of all the third years. The second years have noticed the beef between their manager and the seniors although they only discussed it in secret. Currently, they're at their away training camp in Shinzen and everything was running smoothly, albeit their losing streak and the fact that (m/n) couldn't make it to their first training camp in Tokyo.

It was weird to think that (m/n), who was not even a player meaning he had more time to study, had failed two subjects and had to take the supplementary exam. Although he denied the offer of riding to Tokyo with Tanaka's sister with Kageyama and Hinata in tow. Daichi didn't give much of a response, only saying he would talk to the (h/c).

That same night they heard Kiyoko scolding, and the beautiful manager never gets mad, but oddly Kiyoko was reprimanding the rest of the third years. Although they couldn't quite capture why was she mad but apparently it involved luring and trapping someone?

Sugawara's face didn't falter as he waved off their concerns, assuring the second years that they had a minor misunderstanding at the start of their introduction and it was all settled.

Free practice ensued as Karasuno went on with their respective goals, Sugawara and Daichi doing a synchronization attack with the others although Asahi was nowhere to be found.

"Sorry! Got caught up with something." The ace sheepishly entered the gym, looking eager and fresh to hit some sets. Nishinoya glanced behind Asahi to see a panting (h/c) who was all sweaty. "What were you doing, (m/n)? You looked like you did a major workout!" He teased the manager who only scrunched up his nose and limped his way to the rest of the managers.

"Huh? Is he injured or something? Why is he walking like that-" "Don't mind him! The night isn't going to be young forever. Let's practice!" Sugawara cut off Nishinoya's sentence as he pushed the libero towards the court, his eyes flickering to Asahi getting smacked by Daichi.

"See (m/n)! Told you, you would get along with us!" Hinata cheered behind the (h/c), who didn't say a word as he accompanied Hinata to the third gymnasium, where Kuroo and Bokuto is playing as well as Akaashi and Tsukishima. "Although it seems that you're more close to the third years than I am. Even though I've known them longer..." The ginger mumbled as he twiddled his fingers.

Again, the manager didn't respond as they entered the gym and (m/n) helped them by collecting stray balls and tossing it to Akaashi. Tsukishima would glance at him a few times before getting lectured by the Nekoma captain.

Daichi stared at the gym doors where (m/n) had exited before turning to Asahi. "...I told you to go easy on him." "Sorry. Got a bit excited. He's cute these days, all fidgety around us." "Do you want to blow us over? Cover your tracks, you idiot." Sugawara hissed as he jammed his elbow into the ace's side.

"The others said that we look like we're all getting along, especially you Daichi." The setter spoke as he ignored the crestfallen ace on the floor. "Really? I didn't think there'd be that much of a difference." The captain tapped his chin, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"You were the meanest out of all of us. I guess he was scared of you the most." Asahi propped himself up as he spoke, ignoring the glaring ravenette.

"...he's obedient now. I prefer it that way."

The setter only laughed as he waved them off. "I'm getting dibs on him in the showers. Don't you dare try to join us." He hissed at the two before hopping off to drag Tanaka into another set, leaving Daichi and Asahi to themselves.

If any other normal person would have listened in on their conversation, they would've been creeped out with how normal they spoke as they danced around the topic.

The boy manager of Karasuno, (m/n) (l/n) who has been reduced to a quiet footman for the seniors. Daichi wouldn't say 'reduced' but more to 'tamed'. It was known that the (h/c) is a brash person, especially around people his age but he would watch his mouth more around his upperclassmen...until he gets angry that is.

When Daichi first saw him stumbling through the gym doors, making a scene, he was quite annoyed, reminded of Hinata and Kageyama's first introduction. He thought it would be another rude junior that would ignore him and the obligated seniority but he was impressed to find that he was a reliable manager and an overall pleasant person to be around.

Maybe he was in a bad mood on that specific day, but he wasn't up for playing 'nice' nor welcoming someone new. His players were already a handful, especially the four idiots and he simply lacked the energy to usher someone around in the already socially established club.

Usually, he would apologise the next day, saying his head was clouded but he saw how annoyed (e/c) leered at him whenever (m/n) thought he wasn't looking or the silent curses he would mumble. That ticked him off and he was cold ever since. And when he found out they were neighbours-

"Daichi. Don't you think you're being...malicious to the new manager?"

The captain turned to the long-haired ace. He didn't respond, only raising an eyebrow to Asahi. Sugawara cut in. "What he meant was why are you acting like a little bitch to our new member? Ignoring him and stuff. The others are starting to ask." He teased the ravenette.

Daichi didn't say much, he only stared at his gym shoes and glanced to the (h/c) who was conversing with the second years. He scanned his figure, his eyes wandering a bit too long on his face and frowned. "He's rude." Sugawara wanted to roll his eyes and spite the captain.

"I want to ruin him."

Both Asahi and Sugawara immediately turned their heads to the captain who held a nonchalant look, a foreign expression for him, while still staring at (m/n). "...Or to see him cry, at least." "..."

The setter scoffed. "I always knew you were a sadist, Daichi." The captain only hummed as he knelt down to tie his shoelaces. "Don't act as if you're oh so innocent, Mr. Refreshing." "Shut up." He stifled a chuckle and stood up again.

"So are we gonna do it?" Asahi turned to glance at the (h/c), gazing at his glistening (s/c) and his fluttering eyelashes on his (e/c) eyes. Sugawara rolled his eyes. "I think he already started it." Daichi was silent, his eyes unwavering.

He didn't think much of it back then. Bullying was always a functioning outlet anyways.

Slaps of skin resonated through the small clubroom with a crying naked manager who was too aroused from the heavy thrusts he was receiving. His back was sore against the wooden table in the middle of the room and his throat was parched from all the screaming and wailing he had done.

"You're so adorable, (m/n)." Asahi groaned into the manager's ears, holding him down and kissing down his neck. The (h/c) only squirmed against the strong brunette, helpless against his ticklish facial hair as his hips stuttered against Asahi's. "-'s too much-ngh! Too much fu- achkk!"

He choked as the brunette sped up his motion, increasing his tempo as he felt his release. "You're our junior and manager, (m/n)." Sugawara cooed as he jacked off the (h/c)'s dick. "This is practically your job, don't you think? Helping us release some steam."

(m/n) wailed as he felt Sugawara squeezing him, he shivered as he felt his hole filled and Asahi biting into his shoulder. His pants were getting heavier as he placed his hand across his face. "I-I don't want anymore..." He whimpered as fingers shoved into his ass, digging out liquids that were stuffed deep into him.

Daichi trailed his fingers over (m/n)'s neck as he took Asahi's spot, pulling the (h/c) closer by his waist. "Be good and we'll play nice with you." Partially a lie, the captain was talking about himself. If the manager was compliant, then he'll be gentle. Not that he hated the contrary.

The manager only cried into his hands as he shakily nodded, not that they could see. "Please b-be gentle to me...Daichi- hiks!" He wheezed as the captain pulled him onto his lap, his naked thighs shivering and Daichi only gripped his hair, already holding his favourite spot.

The captain didn't say anything, only crashing his lips on the (h/c)'s who mewled against his mouth, Sugawara and Asahi smearing their hands all over the pair, drowning them in debauchery and temporary bliss.

Ever since then, (m/n) had been more quiet and polite, especially around the third years. Hinata was confused when the (h/c) mentioned about a study group and at that moment something clicked inside the (h/c)'s head.

He tried avoiding the trio truthfully, it wasn't that hard outside of club hours but he dreaded stepping inside the gym or the clubroom. Sugawara was a clever person, always whisking him away to fuck him under a staircase or asking him to stay after practice and would double penetrate him with Asahi inside the storage room.

He would walk home with sticky cum running down his legs or being cleaned by Sugawara who would take his time with him inside the school communal showers. Asahi would only bother him when he was frustrated, either from studies or not being able to hit his spikes right.

Daichi wouldn't join on their frisky escapades. But Sugawara knew that the captain preferred to be alone with the (h/c).

Training camp was over, Coach Ukai finished the debriefing and everyone was dispersing to go home in their respective ways in the late night. (m/n) cursed to himself as he accidentaly slipped on a rock. A hand reached out to stabilise him and the (h/c) glanced to see the captain pulling him up.

"Be careful. It's dark and dangerous right now."

They did live close after all.

"...Thanks." (m/n) mumbled as he pulled his arm back, shoving his hands in his pockets as he continued his way. Daichi silently followed, two steps behind the (h/c).

Their relationship had progressed significantly, after...midterms. (m/n) didn't know what to call it. What he had with the other third years. And it was especially passionate with the captain.

(m/n) was sure his body would give out one day, or one of the second years would find out with how frequent they would pull him in an isolated area and was determined to make him cream his pants as much as he could. At first, he resisted and melted every time one of them would shove their deep fingers into his hole or fucked him nice and slow that would made all of his rebellion disappear.

Sometimes, he caught himself looking forward to those moments. Wondering when will one of his seniors pulled him so they could shove themselves into him, letting him drown in that sinful pleasure.

The grey area he was shoved into was suffocating and risky, but lust conquered all and it conquered him.

"Is anyone home?" (m/n) hadn't noticed that they had arrived at the front of his gates. He turned to see Daichi looking at him, the streetlamp next to them illuminating his handsome features. The captain rarely divulge himself with (m/n), not as frequent as the other two. The scariest of the third years definitely had something in his mind.

"..."

"Urmmff- mmng haa ah ah anghh!!" (m/n) moaned as he Daichi pounded his penis into the (h/c)'s hole that was so wet and puckered from the unnecessary amount of lube and fingering the captain did. He definitely appreciated foreplay.

Both of them were in (m/n)'s room, on his bed missionary and only the (h/c) was fully naked as Daichi immediately ripped off all of his clothings as soon as they stepped inside his room.

(m/n) wasn't sure why he let Daichi step in his house. His family was gone, visiting their relatives up north while (m/n) was away at training camp. He could've lied to the captain. Rejecting his advances although he wasn't sure it would be as effective but the fact that he willingly let Daichi enter through the gates of his home and let him follow to his room wasn't so much of a wonder.

Daichi huffed as he gripped one of (m/n)'s thighs, giving it a slap as he watch the flesh bounce from the impact. The (h/c) had his arms around the ravenette's neck as his legs was pushed upwards. His hole tightened around Daichi's cock as he cried when the captain began to shove himself in harder and deeper, going in as far as balls deep inside (m/n)'s puckered and reddened hole.

The captain gazed down at the (h/c)'s face, his eyes wandering and scanning his features as he felt his release nearing. "(m/n)." The manager huffed as his own (e/c) stared down black ones.

Daichi leaned down to kiss the (h/c), pressing his lips oddly in a gentle manner but pushing his legs to his shoulders roughly. "I think you should raise your tongue a bit more." The captain stated as he fucked the manager faster.

(m/n) stuck his tongue out with a confused face although his bottom was shaking from all the sex Daichi shoved into him. The ravenette licked and pressed his tongue all over (m/n)'s who was whimpering feverishly.

The (h/c) doesn't know what to do. What to do of him. What to do of them. But for now, all he could do was to play the nice little junior for them. He was also no longer allowed to show support for his cousin at any volleyball event.

Daichi pushed (m/n) into a mating press, making sure his cum filled the manager all the way in, not wanting for any of it to go to waste. The (h/c) whined as his own penis spurted white semen.

The manager could not see him running away from the third years any time soon.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

aftermath

I am literally falling asleep as I write this but I wanted to post it asap. I will fix it dwdw although I felt this didn't align with the first part very well. I'll add tags tmrw. Next up is Seijoh

#bottom male reader #sub male reader #x bottom male reader #x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu #male reader smut #male reader #smut #daichi sawamura #asahi azumane #sugawara koushi #oukabarsburg

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sugawarassoulmate · 10 months

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something about sugawara just screams free use to me 🥴

omg it feels so long since i've used these pictures lmao

word count: 685

cw: fem!reader, dub-con, consent implied, free use, public sex, somnophilia, oral (f receiving), minors dni

he just likes having you whenever and wherever he wants. it's hard to tell him no when he makes you feel so good.

you could be talking on the phone with a friend and here comes suga settling himself between your legs. rolling your eyes, you already know what's on his mind and try to focus on the conversation when you feel him take off your shorts and underwear to eat you out.

it's hard to maintain focus when he's sucking your clit like he needs it to survive but he'll scold you for hanging up on your friend so rudely.

but he won't stop until you're whining on the phone or you end the call and buck into his mouth to get yourself off. he has a habit of torturing you that way.

at least that's better than the time he walked into the dressing room where you were trying on clothes.

"kou—" you whispered-yelled but it didn't stop suga from lifting up your skirt and pushing your panties aside.

"you looked so pretty showing me all your outfits," he said, stroking his cock before sinking into the warmth of your cunt. "you'll let me play with you a little bit, yeah?"

he doesn't give you much time to think before he starts fucking you right there in the fitting room.

suga covers your mouth so you can't protest - or cry out from the pleasure and alert the closest employee.

"we should keep this dress, baby," he says sweetly, tugging at the top to make your breasts spill out. "it fits you so well. like a glove."

he hits that spot that turns your legs into jelly and, even with his hand on your mouth, a shrill cry escapes you.

suga slows down his thrust, never fully stopping, when he hears the quiet sounds of footsteps outside the door. "is everything alright?" the associate asks with a knock.

"we're fine! she just got her hair stuck in a zipper," he said confidently. even behind a door, he can still charm anyone he meets.

"ok, if you need any help, i'll be around!" the employee says before walking away.

you're not sure if it's the thrill of being caught or your embarrassment that eggs suga on but that brief interaction just makes him fuck you harder.

he's at his most devious when he catches you sleeping on the couch, a paused youtube video that has long since been forgotten on the tv.

this happens a lot. you'll take naps during the day when you're too tired from cooking, cleaning, or doing your own work while you wait for sugawara to come home.

when suga catches you in these moments, his favorite thing to do is position you on your back and pull your shorts down.

he never tries to be discreet - suga enjoys waking you up with his cock. he loves seeing your sweet face contort in pleasure even in slumber.

"feels good doesn't it baby," he whispers into your skin, fucking you just as hard and deep as he would if you were conscious. "making me happy even when you're sleepy, i'm so lucky."

suga doesn't just stop at fucking you, he's rubbing his fingers against your clit and using his free hand to pull your top down to suck at your tits.

he won't stop until you've woken up, which usually happens when you're about to cum. you'll start breathing heavily and paw at suga's arms in a desperate attempt to grasp onto something.

"k-kou? kou—oh god," you whine, thighs trapping suga as pleasure racks through your still sleepy body.

you came around him, body shaking the entire time and suga could live off of it. he loves having you as his plaything that he can dump his cum into over and over again.

suga doesn't bother cleaning you up after both of you come. usually, he would but instead, he pulls your panties back on and kisses you.

"get some rest, babe. gonna fuck you again in an hour," he says and suga has always been a man of his word.

#haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #sugawara smut #sugawara koushi smut #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #koushi sugawara smut #koshi sugawara smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #🍑#🍑suga

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dinxieyinxie · 3 months

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the demons won tonight laddies

Oh 🥴 my fucking 🖕👦 god ✝, I ☝ cannot ❌ stand 🚹 it anymore 🔥... I 👁 think 🤔 I ☝ must've become 🔜 a simp 🤬 at some point 😓 recently 😏 because every ☝ time ⏰ I ☝ look 😀 at you 👆 I 👁 just get 😷 a massive 🐘 fucking 🖕 erection ⬆. Your 👉 face 😀 look 👀 like 👍 it was hand 🙌 designed 😋 by a thousand 🧚✨ angels 😇... And you 👉🏻 have an uttermost beautiful 🌈 style 🦋😍✨ of clothing 👗 as well 👫, if you 👆 happen 😱 to have a twitch ↕ account 💳, please 🙏 be sure 💯 to add ➕ me at xXPussy_Destroyrr69420wholesomekeanuchungussub2pewdiepieXx. I 👁 promise 🙆🏾 I'll 🤒 donate 💰 every ☝ cent 💳 that I ☝ make 🛠 every ☝ month 📆, I ☝ usually 🧐 just mow lawns for my elderly 👴🏼👵🏼 neighbor 🏘😎, Mrs 👰. Anderson, but 🍑 I 👁 swear 🤭🤞 I 👁 can do so much 💯 more! I'll 🤒 probably 🤷🏿‍♂️ get 💪 a job 💼 at Burger 👁😎 King 👑 since 🔙 you 👆 get 💪 very 💯 delicious 🚿 lunch 🥡 breaks 💔 there!! And I'll 🤒 make 🔨 you 👉🏻 the happiest 👏 girl 👧 in this green ☘ earth 🌐, you 👆 are so extremely 💯 beautiful 🌈 it pains 🤕 me to know 🤔 I 👁 can't 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♂️ be on that bed 🛏 with you 👉🏻... And people 👫 say 🗣 you 👉🏻 can't 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♂️ be a respectful man 👦 these days 🕢, well 🖕🖕🏻🖕🏿, as a brony, anime ✨ lover ❤ and gamer 🎮 4 💉 life 👤 who definitely 🚨 enjoys 😊 his 👋 time ⏰, I 👁 can assure you 👆 I'll 🤒 be able 💪 to show 📺 you 👆 what a REAL 💯 man 👨 can do. Please ☺ baby 👶 I 👁 love ❤ you 👆. I ☝ also 🐢 do Fedora 🎩 tricks 🤤

#severus snape #professor snape #pro severus #pro snape #snapedom #dinxdraws #snart #HEAR ME OUT #trips- sorry- trips- damn im so sorry- trips- so-#i-i-i-i-i-i-i-#this could be young skinny ahh professor snape #i cut off his hands bc he'd be too powerful

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heeliopheelia · 9 months

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CARLY WHAT ARE HYUNG LINE'S FAV POSITIONS IN BED?? 👁️👄👁️

hiii!! okay i actually had to do some thinking in here but there it is:

HEESEUNG

look i don't make rules but cowgirl with hee just sounds right yk? he just loves when you ride him!! it's perfect bcs he lets you control the pace at the beginning then finishes fucking you however he wants to when your legs finally give out from all the hassle 💯 and when you start clinging to him and press your tits to his chest - consider my man gone

prone bone okay i put this one in here bcs i can SO see him going absolutely feral at the feeling of how tight you are in this position, all sprawled out beneath him and completely left to his mercy 🫠 it's also a lot easier to hit your g-spot this way so you can't complain either ☝️

JAY

he's a giver alright, so even if technically it's not a position, he looooves face sitting a lot!! he just wants you to nearly suffocate him, so even if you try to not put all of your weight on him in concern for his health, he will literally grab your thighs and force you onto his face whether you want it or not... just take what he gives you, silly!! 😠 he's only fully satisfied when his face is completely burried in your pussy and he's DRENCHED in your juices 😽

look he's a simple man so - missionary. it gives him the best view at your face scrunching up or eyes rolling back as he fucks into you so well 🧎 it's also so intimate and jay is a very loving guy so he thrives off of miantaining eye contact with you, always looking for some subtle changes in your expression if you ever feel uncomfortable (mom i love him) 🫶

JAKE

i've already said it once but i'll say it again: jake is an avid doggy enthusiast 🗣️my man can't help it okay? he just loves your ass a little too much to pass the opportunity to get to look at it from a front row seat 😩 also likes to push down on your spine to make you arch more or pull your hair if you're into this kinda stuff 🥴

and another one i've mentioned before - reverse cowgirl!! also has a lot to do with the fact that it gets him the best access to your behind, sorry🤷but what really makes him love this position is how easily he can watch his dick slide in and out of you + he gets to grope your ass as much as he wants to so it's a win win for him really 👀

SUNGHOON

spooning which is often a result of cockwarming. whenever he has a tiring day at work, there's nothing more he loves than chilling with you on a couch and holding your body extremely close to his. it's so relaxing too!! he can go slower and deeper in this position than usually and more times than not it ends up with you milking him dry from all he has 🙆

full nelson - gosh i feel so hot all of sudden 💃 there goes me with my hard dom hoon agenda AND IT'S A PERFECT POSITION TO GO ALONG WITH IT 🗣️ like just imagine those big hands of his holding up your thighs as he bullies his cock into you from under you 🧍 he can also force the filthiest sounds out of you so easily like that!! WILL also choke you if you wanna, i-... i'll stop right here in consideration of my own mental health but you got the picture, right?

#i'm sorry if it came out a lil filthy but i just couldn't help myself 😽#–nonnies asks ♡#carly answers ✎#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #heeseung hard hours #jay hard hours #jake hard hours #sunghoon hard hours

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thisonehere · 3 months

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YOU!!!!!! YES YOU!!! I LOVE YOU AND I'M OBSESSED WITH YOUR WRITING😩😩😩 (sorry for the rude "YOU" 😅 I got excited)

I had a new idea for a request but first here's a question, do you write about mk11?

If do to I have this....Okay what about old characters (not old old but old age y'know 😆) reacting to fem reader reader calling them "peepaw" and "Daddy"? In that way yk yk 🥴like this day she called them peepaw and another called them daddy, How will they react? (Raiden, hanzo hasashi, Kuai liang, shang tsung, fujin, old man johnny Cage, kano and erron black) they are all old Daddy's y'know😏

What do you think and yeah thank you again about the pet-owner reader IT WAS AMAZING, I SWEAR TO GOD I WAS SCREAMING 😆😆😆😆 so loud that my mother called me crazy 😂

A/n: Omg, Staaaawwwp, you're making me blush lol *mouthes for you to keep going*

Anyway, yes I do.. That reminds me, I should really update my rules on my blog. Eh, I'll do it later.

C/w: Age gaps, sexual inuuendos, daddy-kink

Raiden

The god has dedicated his entire existence to the preservation of Earthrealm since its inception. So, as you can imagine, he's old as shit. But Raiden never paid mind to this though, he never put much into anything concerning himself, to be frank. It is a miracle that the two of you even got together considering how busy he is.

The way you switch from "Peepaw" to "daddy" is so strange. Truly You Earthrealm mortals are so strange yet fascinating at the same time. Raiden always looks at you weirdly when you say this.

When you call him things like "peepaw", he finds it odd to hear that word. Especially since it's coming from you. You say it lightly as a joke, but he help but get into an existential crisis. He is old isn't he? He was here since the beginning of Earthrealm, before you or you family tree even began.

(If you're mortal) You will eventually grow old and die, but him, he will still be here until the end (unless he is killed of course). He uses this as an excuse to remain distant from you, he'll outlive you, so why bother if you're going to die anyway.

When you call him things like "daddy", he finds it even more weird. He is not your father, why would you call him such a thing? Unless of course there's something you're not telling him.

Do you mean this in a sexual manner? Why? If you find it arousing to think of him as a parental figure then he is deeply concerned about you. But, while saying that, it makes him feel...something else as well. He wishes you would address him as a "Peepaw" instead because he finds these feelings worrying.

The moment you do this, Raiden always falls silent. He doesn't know how to react, the idea of viewing him in that light makes him feel so flustered and...and...

"Um, Raiden?"

"I-I Must consult with the Elder Gods!"

Honzo Hasashi

This man has been through a lot. From the murder of his family and clan, the years spent as a Spectre, and his latter years as the new grandmaster of the Shirai Ryu. He was aware of his advanced age, but he had never cared. He in fact was grateful that he lived so long. And he's grateful that he met you.

So, when you call him "Peepaw" he is amused. Yes, he is old, isn't he? He has lived his second life far longer than he has ever anticipated to be here so long. A younger him would've been much more offended by this remark, but he's a "peepaw", not so young anymore. He spent so long angry and revenge-seeking, everything seemed so silly and embarrassing looking back at things. He takes your joke with pride gives a slight smirk and a chuckle and moves on.

Now, when you call him "Daddy", that is a whole 'nother response. The man was married, rest assured he can very much understand most sexual teasing and such. He thinks it strange that you refer to him as a father in such a sexual manner, considering he also had a kid. He wants to find it attractive, but the fact that you know, father, that is very difficult.

Whenever you go to him and call him that, he tries to play along. He attempts to get flirtatious but then the image of his dead son flashes before his eyes. It makes him feel gross as a result. He also feels guilt, for he remembers his wife, Harumi, he can't but feel like he's betraying her by doing this with you. "Y/n, please, never speak to me like that...ever..."

Kuai Liang

Though he is the youngest brother Kuai Liang has grown in many ways that exceed his brother. He was Cyborg, rebuilt the Lin Kuei, and saved Earthrealm from the Kotal Kahn attack. As he has gone on these adventures, you and him met.

It was obvious that he was an older man and you were much younger than him. But you never really much of a fuss about it. Actually, you joked about it quite a lot, calling him "Peepaw" and other things pertaining to his age. He takes being called "Peepaw" very well.

He smiles and shakes his head as he tries not to laugh that much. But he's very cute when he does.

His brother Bi-Han would've been much more offended by this, but Kuai, as we know, is a very cool and level-headed man. The way you joke about your relationship actually makes him take the age gap less seriously. He prefers you call him Peepaw as opposed to Daddy.

When you calm him Daddy he immediately gets taken by surprise. The man is gagged. he can only just stare at you, still processing what you just said and unaware of how to respond. He tries to retain his composure as he attempts to give you a stern expression, but he fails to fight off the blush on his face or put to together a cohesive sentence. He is at a loss for words. Finally, he just gives up and laughs.

Shang Tsung

The sorcerer has been known to have his age fluctuate many times. Sometimes he's young, other times, and most of the time, he's an old man. He is an old man most of the time and he hates it. You and him met when he was an old man, you were with him when he revitalized himself. He hates whenever you bring up his older body but he also loves the age gap between you for some concerning reason.

He has always been a smug man, it takes special skill and understanding of him to make him lose his cool. For him, it's calling him anything that involves looking down on him or calling him old. He doesn't appreciate you referring to him as "Peepaw". the moment those words leave your lips is one of instant regret. You watch his calm face scrunch into one of anger and disgust

"PEEPAW!!!" He said, snapping his neck to you. "Pee...paw..." rage boiling within him. You back away in surprise and growing fears build up within you. You try to laugh it off and explain that it was a joke. Tsung is usually a cool man, hiding his true feelings under a heartless and apathetic persona. But when it comes to comments like this "Pipsquek" burns him like a blazing iron. "Call me that again...and I cannot ensure your safety...I'd hate to disarray such a lovely form"

Now Daddy, on the other hand, he quite likes that. The moment you say it, he turns to you with a grin and raises an eyebrow. It is both charming and amusing to him. His arm wraps around you as his hands are down to the small of your back. "That's right, and you'll be a good girl for Daddy, won't you?"

He prefers you call him Daddy from then on. Just never call him Peepaw ever again...I'm serious...don't.

Fujin

Despite being here for centuries, Funjin still retained quite a youthful appearance as opposed to his brother who chose a more mature form. Also opposed to Raiden, Funjin has a very light-hearted and fun personality.

You met while he was travelling, he enjoys being around mortals, watching them live their lives, something that feels so short and delicate. You intrigued him, with your smile, your gentle skin, your naughty nature.

You never realized he was a god or his age until he casually revealed it one day. One day you were just hanging out and he was just like "Oh, right, I'm a god by the way." And after that point, it's been weird between you two. You realize just how powerful he is and how important he is to the universe...as well as the fact he is centuries older than you.

Fujin doesn't take this much seriously and it takes you some time to get used to it. Afterwards, you start to joke about his age a lot and Fujin has always found it adorable when you did it.

So when you refer to him as Peepaw he immediately finds it amusing and smiles at you. His smile is filled with life and charm despite his age. He might be old, but at least he isn't an old stick in the mud like his brother. "I find comfort in knowing that I am your favourite peepaw."

Fujin finds "daddy" a strange thing. It's both used to address someone as "father" but also can be used to mean...other things. The moment you call him it, he gives a confused look as he gives a light chuckle as his cheeks begin to flush. "I have been a woman as well, so I am a mother too," he says with a chuckle.

Johnny Cage

This actor's beautiful face has graced the silver screen for years. He is lauded across multiple countries as amazing and hot even after all these years, the man has aged gracefully though there have been rumours that he had work done, but these are obviously bogus.

You two met while on set for one of his movies. He didn't know what you were doing and he didn't care, he liked you so you started hanging out.

He was considerably older than you. He had a daughter that was no doubt closer to you in age than you were to him. And there has been news coverage talking about this age gap. But neither of you seemed to care about this, you just loved spending time with each other.

When you call him things like Peepaw Johnny can't help but laugh. Neither of you took his age seriously so you both have a good laugh at this and and move on. He might have an old accent to play off your joke. He is saying stuff like "You want some special hard 'candy'?" Whether or not they work varies.

Now, Daddy has a very different response. The moment you call him that he gives you a cheeky grin. He has been called this multiple times, all he needs to do is post a picture of the most random thing and his comment section is filled with thirsty comments.

He loves being called this, it never seems to get old for him. But while saying that, the way you call him daddy makes it feel like he's being called that for the first time.

What happens next is a barrage of you going back and forth with flirty banter. He looks at you with a hunger in his eyes as he bites his lip. "Well the, baby, why don't come show daddy some love."

Kano

This old crook has lived a long time, an unfortunate thing for many of his victims. His life has been spent either running from the law and Sonya or committing war crimes and terrorism. Doesn't he sound like a dreamboat?

Anyway, he is aware of how old he's got but doesn't care a bit. That's a thing about him, he has a careless and reckless nature that seems to draw many people in. You were one of those people. You two had met while he was on the run and you were cool with his life of crime, he liked your sweet and calm nature, and just like that you two were a thing.

Since this is Kano we're talking about, one of the things he likes about this relationship is your age gap. It's sort of a kink he has, and that's probably why he's also on a watchlist.

You find yourself amid playful banter. Like this one occasion. Kano called you baby. You called him "peepaw". Kano chuckles at this and rolls his eyes. "As if, no peepaw could do you like I do," He says with a naughty grin.

Normally, Kano likes to be referred to as "Uncle Kano". But on this occasion, whenever you call him daddy" he'll allow it just based on how hot he finds it. He really likes it when you call him this, I mean he really likes this. The moment you call him this he licks his lift as he stares at you. "Why don't you come here show Ol' Daddy Kano some love, eh?"

Erron Black

A man from old wild western times, Erron found whole changed when he was visited by Shang Tsung who bore a deadly deal: assassinate an Earthrealm warrior for him and he'd live forever. So he did it. Now he's been alive ever since.

You met during his time serving under Kotal Kahn. He really liked you so he started flirting with you. He was doing his best lines and you didn't understand a damn thing he said but you really liked his accent. And just like that you started hanging out.

The man has lived for decades but sometimes he acts like he is still in the Wild West. But you learned to get used to it, though you found it kinda funny when he'd talk in old Western slang. You did like to tease him, calling him "Peepaw" and stuff. Erron just laughs and rolls his eyes. He used to call his elders that, he never thought he'd be called it one day. The mere thought makes him laugh even more, so much to the point that you're concerned about him.

Erron hasn't been on Earth for quite some time. He was out exploring the realms. So when you call him daddy he is immediately confused in a very concerned way. Are you his kid? HAS HE BEEN KOCKING BOOTS WITH HIS DAUGHTER THE ENTIRE TIME!?!?!?!

After you finally calm him down and explain Erron shifts from concerned and scared to ver cool and seductive, in the was only he can do. "My such a dirty girl...perhaps you need a good spankin' to get you right."

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zepskies · 11 months

Note

Hii! Could I request Soldier boys reaction to his gf slapping his ass 😭😭 like he's just walks by her in the comfort of their own home and she just... does it

🤣🥴 LMFAO. Bless you for this ask, my dear. It turned into a full on "imagine" scene instead of just bullet points. (And I think you sent me another imagine! I'll work on that one next. 😘)

Here we go…

Word Count: 550

Imagine: Repaying him for a job well done.

He was just standing there, doing the dishes.

You didn’t know why you liked it so much. You had cooked, so it was only fair that he cleaned up the kitchen. (Or such was one of the ground rules you'd set when you two moved in together.)

Maybe it was because he was actually following said rule. Maybe it was because your boyfriend was washing a damn dish without you asking.

Maybe it was the exquisite ratio of broad shoulders, straining under his simple shirt, to a tapered waist and a pinnacle of strong, jean-clad legs.

“Hey, you got any dishes over there?” Ben called to you, over his shoulder.

You took that moment to drain the last of your wine glass with one bracing sip.

“Yep,” you said, popping the “P.”

But when you didn’t join him in the kitchen, Ben finally looked over at you. His brow shot up when you raised the glass, twirling it around from your recline on the living room couch.

“You really expect me to go over there and get it?” he said.

“Please?” You wiggled your bare toes on the couch and held onto your throw blanket. “My lower back hurts…you know, from all those hours I put into making a loving, home-cooked meal.”

Ben shot you a look of annoyance. You gave him a pair of imploring doe eyes; you both knew it was an act, but somehow, it still worked on him…most of the time.

Your mouth twitched at a smile when he finally came over to grab your glass. He plucked it out of your hand with a shake of his head. (And a look on his face that said you were lucky beyond fucking belief that he put up with you.)

So when he turned to leave, you really couldn’t help yourself.

You leaned over and gave him a nice smack on the ass for his efforts.

Ben was surprised enough to stop short. His hand flinched on reflex, actually cracking the wine glass. It was just a fraction of his super strength, but the glass soon shattered over his hand and onto the hardwood floor.

His hand was fine, of course, but his brows furrowed as he tried to comprehend what the hell just happened.

You bit your lip, but a snort of amusement still escaped. Ben slowly turned to you.

“Fucking proud of yourself, are you?” he asked, with a wry raise of his brow. Still his lips threatened to curve upwards.

“A bit, yeah,” you admitted. Your little smirk made his green eyes narrow.

“Okay,” he nodded. Then he turned and swiftly yanked the throw blanket off your body, before all but tackling you onto the couch.

You squealed and pushed at the iron wall of his chest, but it didn’t make a damn difference. Ben trapped you underneath him, caging your hips between his thighs, and sunk a firm hand in your hair.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was gravel and sin, and it made a pleasant tingle run down your spine. You still had the audacity to smirk in his face.

“Who says I can’t finish it?” you quipped. Your nails dragged down his chest teasingly, all the way to his belt.

Ben huffed. “We’ll just fucking see, won’t we?”

He then captured you with a searing kiss that made your toes curl.

AN: I love doing these SB imagines/headcanons! 😘

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

SB Tag List:

If you prefer not to be tagged on imagines, just let me know. 😉

@melancholictearz @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman

@mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @skyesthebomb @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore

@agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @emily-winchester @tearsfortheyouth @solo-pitstop-vibes @romaka344 @dope-trope-105 @liuope @beautyvaliant @xxlaynaxx @ades106 @chernayawidow @beskarfilms

#ask me stuff #soldier boy #slapping dat ass #Soldier Boy imagine #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy headcanon #zepskies answers

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jadewritesficshere · 1 year

Text

Sitting Pretty

This is just pure filth like barely a plot ok 😫🥴

Eddie Munson x Female!reader

18+ONLY

Warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), slight degradation and condescending language (use of slut) (this really isn't degradation in my mind but that's cause I'm used to a lot worse so technically it is but), boot riding, squirting

Eddie dropped the box on the coffee table with a loud thud. It landed next to the other boxes he had carried, and the one you had. After a long day of work, he was tired. He wanted to sit down, relax, and do absolutely nothing. Of course, when you called and said you needed help moving boxes, he came. He knew he was entirely fucked. Wrapped around your fingers. You could tell him to jump and he'd ask how high.

Eddie pushed a strand of hair out of his face, it briefly getting caught on his fingers, making him shake his hand to get it unstuck. He glared at the partially grey hair still wound around his fingers (you said it made him look distinguished and metal. He couldn't complain too much at that). You set your own box on the table and smiled at him,"Thanks Eds, I know you're tired. It means a lot to me you would do this." Eddie hummed,"mhm. What is this stuff anyways?" "Oh, my uncle and aunt were getting rid of a bunch of stuff, so they gave it to my parents, who got rid of more stuff, aaaannnd dumped it on me," you shrugged," I'll go through it and see if there is anything good, then send it to the secondhand store."

Together, you and Eddie started going through the boxes. Eddie pretended to be wounded finding a dungeon master's guide, you found a harmonica and attempted to play a Corroded Coffin song (which had Eddie wheeze laughing and joking about adding a harmonica solo to their next single), he had tried on a pink jacket at your insistence while you had put on a hat that didn't fit (both of you traded items and agreed they looked better on each other then yourselves before promptly tossing the items back in the box), and then you struck gold.

You pulled out a pair of light brown leather cowboy boots. The intricate stitching on the side had caught your eye at the bottom of the box. The tips of the shoes slightly pointed and squared off. You blink at them and hand them to Eddie. Eddie looks at them before scoffing," Nope, those will squish my feet. You see the ends of them?" You roll your eyes," Eddie, if they hurt people's feet why would cowboys wear them? They work on their feet all day!" Eddie was tempted to tease you and say cowboys aren't real, but then you pout at him. The pout making your lips stand out caused him to hesitate. "Please?" He sighed and couldn't help but give you a quick kiss before grumbling and sitting to put the boots on. He could hear your faint cheers as he sat on the recliner.

Your focus was on the box in front of you until you heard Eddie clear his throat and ask,"Well, what do ya think?" You turned and-

Damn.

Eddie stood there with his hands on his hips. Your eyes trailed over him. His curly hair was frizzy from the humidity and a long day of working and sweating at the auto shop. His skin pale, save for a smear of oil on his cheekbone. His tank top showed off his arms beautifully, muscles straining, his bicep wrapped from a new tattoo he had gotten. The tank top tight against his skin, showing you his waist. You could see the bump at his belly button where his piercing was. His jeans were slightly loose, the only light wash pair he owned that he threw on when he hadn't done the laundry. Those stupid cowboy boots sat on his feet, the slight heel giving him extra height. He turned and held his arms out, striking a few poses. They weren't heels, but they made his ass pop (God, now you wanted to see him in heels). The light jeans making his ass look bigger, perfect to hold. Slap even.

"Ya know, they actually are kinda comfortable," Eddie turned back to face you with a smile," they don't- oof!" Eddie lands on the recliner with a grunt from you pushing him. He glares at you," you have to quit doing that! You're gonna strain my back or some shit." "Hm...stop being so fuckable then," you climb on top of his lap and lean close to his ear to whisper," besides, you like it." Eddie clears his throat and grasps your hips. You roll your hips slightly into his, watching him inhale sharply. The scruff of his unshaved jaw beckons you forward, kissing it lightly before trailing down his neck.

You nip and suck at his neck, smirking as he tilts his head to give you better access. His hands that firmly grasp your hips, shift to grab your ass instead. You hum as you pull back, staring at the glistening neck and the lovely purple mark you left. It may be childish to leave a hickey, but you couldn't help but want to mark Eddie up, adding shades of purple and red near his existing tattoos. Eddie's eyes are blown, his pale face flushed a deep red. You shift on top of him, rolling your hips into his again, feeling his hardening length. The feeling of you grinding against him makes him groan. Unbuttoning his jeans, you awkwardly try to unzip them, leaning back into Eddie's hands. He takes that moment to squeeze your ass. You whimper at the feeling and lean forward to kiss him, thoughts of removing his pants forgotten.

His lips are soft, slightly chapped, but still so plush against yours. Your mouths move in tandem, tongues darting out. Eddie licks into your mouth, groaning as he takes control. He sucks on the tip of your tongue before pulling back. Both of you taking deep breaths. "Take these off baby," Eddie mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shorts. You nod and clamber off him.

You push your shorts and panties down, balancing a hand on Eddie's knee as you step out of them. You go to get back on Eddie but he stops you," Now hold on, baby." You let out a whine in annoyance. Eddie chuckles and clicks his tongue at you," You seem all pent up, what's got you like this?" "You, now let me on-" "Nah, I think it's something else. Like my boots, Baby?" You nod emphatically, attempting to straddle Eddie again, but he puts his leg out in front of you. The sole of his boot presses against your stomach, and he pushes you back lightly. "Prove it pretty girl."

You pause and tilt your head slightly before grasping Eddie's boot covered ankle. Eddie nods to his foot and taps your stomach with the sole. You step back and bend at the hips, eyes locked with Eddie's, and kiss the tip of the boot. He chuckles and motions you with a finger to continue. You give the boot another kiss, and another. The leather firm against your mouth. Eddie smirks," You can do better then that." "I'm not licking the boot." You stand up and drop Eddie's foot with a thud. Eddie relaxes back spreading his legs, "Who said anything about licking? What's that saying...save a horse, ride a cowboy?"

You blink at him as your mouth falls open. Eddie taps the boot against the hardwood ground, causing clicks to echo. "Go on pretty girl." You can feel your arousal slowly drip down your thighs at the thought of Eddie's request. It was demeaning, dirty, and damn if it didn't delight you. You slowly kneel at Eddie's feet, lowering yourself until your core hit the leather.

The fabric was stiff and slightly rough against your pussy. Your arousal dripping onto the boot, causing it to slicken and make it easier to move. You look up from where you're situated to look at Eddie. You can't help the moan that escapes at the site of him. The once slightly baggy jeans are now very filled out from his bulge. One hand resting on it, squeezing lightly. The top of his unbuttoned jeans showing off his happy trail. The opal belly button piercing glinting in the light. The tattoo of the dragon above the jewelry moving with every deep breath he takes. A hickey on his pec from last week. The rest of his tattoos scattered about, glistening from sweat. The scruff on his jaw and neck. The grey hairs at his temples. The smirk on his face, even though it is flushed. The demeaning look he gives you.

You grind against the boot, faltering slightly under his gaze. "Look at you, sitting pretty," Eddie coos at you, patting your head. He knows you hate that, making you feel small. Stupid. "Such a good slut, making my boots all wet." His words make you clench around nothing, throbbing with want.

You buck your hips quicker against his boot. You shift angles slightly and moan as the boot rubs against your clit. The sensation is too much. The pleasure invades your brain, coherent thoughts gone. You feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. A tingly warmth spreading out from your core. "Fuck I'm-" your breath hitches and your hips fumble losing rhythm. "Come for me baby," Eddie grasps your jaw firmly, tilting your head up to face him," Drench my boots like the good slut you are, pretty girl." You gasp as the pressure builds to a crescendo. Your eyes close and you moan head falling back in pleasure. Lights flash behind your eyes as euphoria spreads throughout your limbs. You distantly feel the wetness gush as your hips buck wantonly. Your brain goes fuzzy with static from euphoria. You briefly hear Eddie moan a fuck.

You come back down to earth, loosening your grip on Eddie's thighs. You hadn't even realized you were gripping them. You scoot away from his boot, still on your knees. The light brown leather is soaked, turning a dark brown. A puddle of your release is on the boot, making you feel warm from embarrassment.

"Fucking hell...you squirted," Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. You stand on shaky legs, Eddie helping hold you in place. You glance down at the puddle slowly dripping off his shoe and onto the floor. "Can I ride you now?" You ask saccharinely.

"You're gonna have to give me a minute," Eddie's eyes dart away from yours, clearing his throat. He shifts and you glance at the movement. His jeans are slightly loose again. The light denim jeans having turned dark at a wet spot. "Made me come like a fucking teenager," Eddie stands grabbing your hand. He tugs on your arm, leading you towards the bedroom.

You were definitely keeping the cowboy boots.

#Is this the same Eddie from Wrecked yes yes it is will I ever write a part 2 to that uh maybe #I love this older Eddie with a belly button piercing he has invaded my brain and taken up residence in my heart #I realized after I finished this you are basically doing a Winnie the Pooh in over half of this #You really did soak his shoes making them shine #Anyways no Eddie isnt a cowboy but he could be he has the swagger for one #This isn't even really degradation in my mind but I know it is to some so #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson/you #Eddie Munson/reader #Eddie Munson x female!reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson/female!reader #Stranger Things #Also please go read and enjoy cowboy Eddie fics cause they are so good #ALSO if anyone is reading this I did try to make like a header picture thing but it kept deleting paragraphs when it was added #So I went without cause really we dont need that we need the words #Is this well done no but it is done and I am well so #Jade is Talking

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arlerts-angel · 7 months

Note

heyyy, i have a request 4 u!! 🤭

could u write sum armin nsfw with afab!reader with one kink that you like the most? praising, degrading, whatever u prefer!!🥴🥴

a/n: mkay mkay i can do that 😈 i've been brainrotting on dry humping with min so my kink of choice is endytophilia!! happy slutsgiving 😚 (endearing)

cw: armin arlert x fem reader, college au, dry humping, a little bit of plot but mostly smut, sub armin if you squint

taglist: @callm3senpaii @ringsofsaturnnnn @dilfkentolover @sleazymac-n-cheesy @darkstarlight82 @arlertwitch

"thanks for helping me study 'min, but i think i'm just gonna accept the F on this exam. i've done so much studying that my eyes are starting to cross and i still feel like i've learned nothing..." you let out an exasperated sigh and bounce your leg. the scent of armin's cologne and being so close to him has been a huge distraction.

"don't worry. we'll take a break and do something else to occupy your mind. you've been doing great." he smiles sweetly. there's really only one thing you want to do right now to de-stress. not only from the studying, but the tension between the two of you. you don't even know how to bring it up. armin isn't the type to just sleep around, and he's your best friend... but maybe he'll understand.

"um, can i ask you something? you can say no if you're uncomfortable." you ask softly. he nods. "of course you can." he sits on the small single bed in your dorm room. "actually, nevermind. can i show you instead...?"

he looks puzzled but agrees. "stop me at any point, okay?" he furrows his brows in confusion. "a-alright... what is it?" he asks. you sit on the bed next to him and put your hand on his thigh. before he has time to think, you kiss him softly with growing intensity. to your surprise, he kisses back. a few seconds later, when you pull away, he lets out of a soft whimper.

"what was that for?" he asks, cheeks flushed slightly pink. "i'll explain later. do you want to keep going?" he nods shyly. "...how much further?" you ask. "w-well, i don't have any... condoms." "we don't need them." "what?! of course we do!" he objects. you can't help but giggle. "armin, we don't even have to undress." he cocks his head to the side.

"let me show you." you whisper before kissing his soft lips again. his hands quickly find their way to your waist. you position yourself on top of him and swirl your hips, rutting your clothed and desperate cunt against his thigh. he catches on, quickly thrusting his bulge against your thigh. your soft moans and grunts are almost enough to make him cum right there. "s-shit!" he wails, grabbing your waist tightly to keep his composure. you shift slightly to grind your pussy right on the tent of his pants.

"oh god— oh fuck— please don't stop." he pleads, thrusting his cock in sync with the grinding of your pussy. "shit–! 'm getting close 'min" you moan. "y-yeah me too—" he holds you down, tight and hard against his bulge "right there, just like that— ohhhh fuck i'm cumming!" he cries out. "fuck 'miiiin—! 'm cumming too—!" you mewl as you reach your orgasms simultaneously; feeling his cock twitch as the sticky strands of cum shoots into his boxers.

"thanks, i really needed that." you admit sheepishly. "apparently i did too." he smiles reassuringly and kisses your forehead.

dividers by benkeibear

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hellsslibrary · 1 year

Note

ahem ahem sorry, valentine is day has already passed ofc BUT the card with lucifer and the choice at the end where you could kneel in front of him... can you continue this situation? as you like, but i would add praise and maybe luci is more sensitive (after a combination of sweets and tea, as in the story) . tysm if you do!! 🥴

♡If your upper lip is morning and your lower lip is night, then I'll be somewhere in between♡

DNI: Minors.

!!Warnings: blowjob, fingering (Luci accepts), praise (both ways), hair pulling, cum inside the mouth and swallowing sperm, overstimulation, admiration for Luci's body, cheesy flirting, MC instead of [Your name], master kink.

{ —Are you pretending to submit to me? Not that I'm complaining. }

He blushes after these words, exhaling convulsively while you rest your head on the inside of his thigh and look at him in confusion.

"Luci, you've been acting weird ever since we entered the house. Is everything okay?" - you stroke his opposite thigh.

"The combination of this tea and that chocolate, apparently, really causes strange sensations, [MC]... "

He sighs again, taking off his coat and carefully hanging it on the back of the sofa. His cheeks are burning with a bright crimson light, his breathing is absolutely knocked down, and his mouth is slightly open. His hand, slightly trembling, lies on the top of your head and strokes your hair.

"Are you excited, Lucifer?" he sighs with displeasure, but nods, leaning back on the sofa.

"Make me feel good, [MC], please..." - he jerks his hips slightly in your direction and his boner touches your nose.

"[MC]?" you say in a mocking tone, holding his hips in place.

He exhales convulsively and looks at you with the most impatient and dissatisfied expression on his face, but says:

"Please... Master, make me feel good."

"Well, that's it. You can be a good boy... When you're in the mood for it, of course,"- you whisper, moving to his crotch.

Your hands expertly unbutton his belt, and then snap the button on his trousers. Your teeth cling to the metal zipper and you feel him moaning over you in surprise, but quietly. You look up and look into his red, lust-filled eyes. His outer wrist rests on his lips, covering them. And you see how his neck twitches when he swallows, when you slowly slide the zipper of his trousers over his erection.

You pull down his trousers, and then his boxers to his feet, and then completely removing them and handing them to Lucifer, because you know perfectly well that he will be unhappy if you throw clothes somewhere. He carefully folds it and puts it on the next chair so that this stack, if anything, does not interfere with you.

You're humming, looking at his penis in front of you, a very thin trickle of precum is already flowing down it. You giggle, lovingly kissing his head, feeling him twitch from it.

"Please don't tease... I want you to suck me off, master, please. I want to be in your mouth, " - he whispers, moving his hips forward.

And you finally get to work. You lick the strip from his head to his base, slide your tongue back up, licking his head and putting it in your mouth. A groan of satisfaction is heard from above. You decide not to stop and take more, until about the moment when his cock began to rest against the back of your throat.

"Ye— yes, that's it, mgm, very good... Ah, damn, Master. Please don't stop, " - he mutters, to which you chuckle, causing a fleeting vibration along his excited penis, causing a stronger warmth in the bottom of his stomach.

You continue to suck almost all of his cock, trying to satisfy his need for release as much as possible. You choke when you feel your hair being pulled and you meet his pubis with your nose. Your bewildered gaze rises to him while he looks at you and only by one look can you tell that he is accidentally.

But a predatory grin blooms on your lips, from which he swallows. You tear yourself away from his penis, which makes him whine, but does not say anything, then spit on your fingers, move his body slightly down, which makes him squeal, and then again take his slightly salty, preculate penis into your mouth.

You trace the edge of his hole with your finger, lightly pressing on it in order to hit him. He whines and his feet rest on your shoulders and press your head closer. So are his hands clutching your hair. You giggle and stick your finger into it, it emits a deep, hoarse and surprisingly loud moan. He wasn't too vocal, but now...

"Please, master, more, f-fuck, more... I ,ah, want more, " - he whispers, while his head is lying on the back of the sofa, and rare tears are running down his cheeks.

You feel him twitching and start moving faster along his trunk, and also add two more fingers. An even stranger moan comes out of his mouth. He has never been so vocal before that it seems strange to you. You feel your cock pulling the fabric of your trousers tighter and tighter.

"I'm going to cum, please..! Don't stop, I beg you! It's so good that I'm ready to die. "

You seriously wonder if it was definitely not an aphrodisiac or something like it. He's so cute now, although he's very rarely, if ever, like that. But you try to nod as well as possible to let him cum.

A loud "Thank you!" escapes from his lips. and after a few thrusts in his ass and on his dick, he cums in your mouth with a loud moan. You also move your fingers slightly to help him survive an orgasm while you swallow his sperm, trying not to spill any drops.

And then with a loud pop you tear yourself away from his penis and take out your hand, looking at his beautiful figure. His chest heaves with each of his quick breaths and exhalations, a thread of saliva flows down his chin, as well as several streams of tears, and his hair, the ones you see, is absolutely disheveled.

"Hey, Luci..." he slowly looks down at you as you stroke his inner thigh. "If your left foot is north and your right foot is west, I'd like to go northwest. "

He blinks a few times and then chuckles, hitting you lightly on the head.

"If your upper lip is morning and your lower lip is night, then I'll be somewhere in between. " - you both laugh, but then you lower his legs from your shoulders and get to your feet.

You tower over him, and then bend down, placing one of your hands next to his head.

"Well, since we have time for a chessy flirtation, which I started, then I'll finish. " - he looks at you in confusion, but there is a flicker of interest in his eyes. - "Of course I'm not an elevator, but you can go down and up on me. "

He emits a quiet "Oh...", pulling you by the shirt, throwing you on your back on the sofa and sat on your lap, unbuckling your belt.

"Then I'll ride the elevator until morning, until I completely run out and Mr. Elevator squeezes all the juices out of me. "

You laugh, which makes him blush slightly, realizing how stupid and childish he looked right now, but not that you mind. You're going to squeeze all the juice out of him, just like he wants, right?

#dom male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #obey me x male reader #lucifer x male reader #lucifer x reader #sub lucifer #lucifer smut #a!writes.#obey me x reader #sub obey me #obey me smut #sub character #🥀a!praise kink #🥀a!hair pulling #🥀a!overstimulation #🥀a!master kink

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daydreams-after-dark · 1 month

Note

Lmao I know we are chatting rn but like-

Imagine big big big monster cock literal chan having a dick so big it makes reader cry? 🥹🥹 Like they're saying they couldn't take it well and it hurts but then Chan would be so reassuring and fluffy with them knowing that the stretch would be intense (hehe your fav stretch kink 🥴🥴)

"you're doing so well baby" "I'm so proud of you" "taking it so well" then he's so soft and so showers reader with praise 🥹🥹 ah soft dom chan makes me breathe

Preferably male reader again 🤔🤔🤔🤔

So this ended up being gender nuetral, as I only focus on reader taking chan's big monster D, and don't really describe reader's anatomy (except for their ass that is)

"Channie, I'm nervous. Not sure if I can take you?"

"Shh...baby." Chan soothes, rubbing your ass cheek. "I know it's gonna be a big stretch. It might hurt a little. But I've got you."

You hear the squirting of more lube, and Chan's three fingers return to your hole. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out a choked moan. "Feels so good, Channie. I...I wanna try for you."

Chan withdraws his fingers, and you push your face into the pillow and whimper from the emptiness.

He's had you laying across his lap prepping you for the best part of forty five minutes. You've almost come three times, but each time Chan sensed your impending orgasm, he'd back off.

But now, it was time to finally feel his cock inside you.

"Baby, pop up on all fours for me. That's the way. Like that." Chan sucks in a breath as he spreads your ass cheeks and takes a good look at your hole. More lube is spread on your rim, and on Chan's cock.

"I'll go really slow, okay? Remember your colour codes, yeah?"

"Yes." you choke.

He presses the tip to your hole.

"Channie... I.... Oh... I can't." you cry.

"Shhh... you can. It's about to slip in. Just breathe for me."

You let out a shaky breath as you feel your rim give way and the tip of his fat cock squeeze into you. Your hands grip the sheet underneath you, and you whimper into the pillow. "it's not gonna fit." you murmer. "too big... you're gonna split me in two."

"Sweetie...shhh. Your stretching beautifully. You feel so good clenching my cock... I know it's big... but you're so good for me.." he reassures you.

Chan pushes himself in a little more, massaging your cheeks to help you relax. "This ass was made to take huge cocks. Fuck... you should see how you look right now."

Chan's words of praise and encouragement help you feel more at ease. You trust him, and want to give yourself to him. But he's just so big. You really aren't sure if it is possible to take him fully.

"You're doing so well for me, baby. I'm going to go deeper now." he pushes in more, waits for you to adjust, then a little more.

"Ahhh... how much more?" you pant. Tears stream down your face. You're not sure if you can take it.

"Almost there, baby. I'm proud of you... not much more to go... so good at taking me." Chan cooes.

He's only a quarter of the way in.

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @chuuchuu1224 @fun-fanfics @wolfennracha @rhonnie23

#chan smut #chan x reader #bang chan x male reader

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 3 months

Note

hi i came across your post asking people to talk to you about karl heisenberg so i decided to send in an ask because i absolutely cannot be normal about that man in any way shape or form at all he rotates in my brain 24/7 and refuses to get out

plplsplspls list down some of your hcs for him :33

You and me both, you and me both, don't worry 🤝🏻 I have him living rent free up there since I put my eyes on him and now he won't leave, instead he's wreaking havoc where perfectly normal and content thoughts should be 😭

Thank you so much for sending the ask! 🫶🏻

Karl Heisenberg HCs under the cut since their NSFW 🔞 (gender neutral)

I'll write a SFW Head Canon post later!

🛠 So, what's the first thing that comes to mind when looking at Kar Heisenberg, hm? Yes, exactly: "Damn, Daddy!" but as mighty fine as this is, how about we flip that table upside down and consider Karl with a mommy kink? There is something about the thought of consensually slapping that mountain of a man around and calling him a bad and naughty boy that makes my brain rot so fast 🥴 Depending on how complex of a topic this wants to be fleshed out as, one can always sprinkle some trauma into the mix because both mommy and daddy issues can very much stem from painfully real places and I imagine that Karl as quite a lot of that.

🛠 I like to believe that Karl has a surreal amount of patience, nerves of steel, but only when it comes to a few things in particular. One of them being you propped up in his lap with his cock buried inside you up to the shaft, neither of you making any hectic movements as you cock-warm him while he welds together scraps of metal in his workshop. He can do that for hours if he feels like it, enjoying the engulfing warmth of your body whilst sparks fly through the somewhat damp air of the factory, strangely enough helps him concentrate and be precise for neither sparks nor hot metal to get anywhere close to you.

🛠 Dad-Bod. That's it. Send Tweet. No, but really, I'm drop dead serious about it and will die with my face pressed to that squishy soft belly pooch and my hands clasping at his glorious man-tits. You know what Dad-Bod Karl Heisenberg gets you? So much cuddle-material 😌 And in instances during which you don't peacefully fall asleep wrapped in his arms, he muffles your moans and whines with his chest, just shoving your face into the soft and warm skin.

🛠 In my brain, Karl is a giver. Sure, he might take you whenever the mood strikes, that simply cones with the package, but never without giving equal quantities of affection back. If he'd be out for one-sided sex, he could just as well shove his cock into one of his brainless creations. Karl would make you feel wanted and desired with every opportunity he'd get because he knows how it feels to be left behind, an outcast, and he'd never want you to feel this way especially not around him, ever.

🛠 Intoxication kink, my friends 🙏🏻 Okay, listen, as aforementioned, Kar is a giver and somewhere deep deep down he carries the need to care and nurture. Sometimes it's get so overwhelmingly much that he just has to take matters into his own hands, okay? Fucking you up nicely under his supervision so that you don't go off the rails too hard.

🛠 I believe Karl to be somewhat possessive and very physical about you. Hos fingers are always lingering, sometimes at your waist, sometimes ghosting over the round of your ass and other times lovingly clasping around your throat. Same goes for his lips and teeth. One could say that Lord Heisenberg has a hefty oral fixation that can't be soothed by cigars alone. He'd suck and nibble at your fingers and nipples without hesitation.

🛠 Last but not least, you know how it goes: Save a horse... 🤠

#tam rambles #asks are appreciated #asks are always open #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg fanfic #karl heisenberg x reader #Karl Heisenberg x you #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil fanfiction

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luvyunjinxo · 11 months

Note

cutie zuha who everyone thought was submissive and totally inexperienced, but one day when reader tested her limits, she showed her real self, absolutely destroying reader 🥴 becoming the mean hard dom mommy she really is 🤭

why does this sound familiar 🤨 .. anyways here it is anon (listening to newjeans while making this so I apologize if things sound funky)

Kazuha = Red Y/n = Pink (creds from that one fic I saw that had this color thing)

Everyone thinks Zuha is just a baby, not to mention her sweet innocent personality she would never hurt a soul. So you knew you had the sweetest girlfriend ever. When it came to sex she always had vanilla sex and always was gentle with you. Always reassuring you, you were safe with her.

Ugh but how much you hated it. You wanted to be degraded, humiliated and just something more rough than you usually get. Not complaining? Kind of? You just wanted something new.

You had a whole plan to be a brat, was risky, didn't know if it was gonna work, but you're trying it anyways. "Baby we have to go out, get ready now" You scoffed at her and just said "No I'm tired." Kazu gave you a confused look and just returned with a smile and said "Babe seriously we have to go now" She said while trying to pull you up.

"No Zuha I don't wanna."

"We have to. My family is expecting us baby."

You just scoffed again and made your way to the bathroom to get ready and you guys left to go to her parents house like you guys did almost every week.

After you guys got there you started acting like an immature kid again. Only laying in Zuha's bed not even spending time with her. You were surprised she kept up with it. But once it was time for dinner with her family you went out to eat with them.

"Here Y/n have some chicken!" Her mom said as she starts to pass you the plate. "No thank you." Kazuha looked at you weirdly giving you the 'wtf?' look. So she kicked your foot under the table because she knew how her mom felt about declining food.

"How about some Bulgogi?" Zuha kicked your feet again to make sure you actually accept it this time. "No I'm okay excuse me I'll use the bathroom real quick." You politely smiled and made your way to the bathroom.

"Mom I'll go check on her she doesn't seem well, okay?" Frustratingly, she stomped her way to the bathroom and just opened the door without knocking. You were just on your phone on the bathroom toilet.

"Y/n what the fuck is wrong with you today?! I tried to keep up with your bullshit but It's too much now!" This is the Kazuha you wanted.

"I don't know. I'm normal today what do you mean?".

"Shut the fuck up. Bend over."

"Excuse me?"

With that she bent you over herself and gave you a few spanks to your ass coloring it bright red, and leaving hand marks all over. Then she picked you up and put you on the bathroom counter, moving everything aside.

"Yeah you wanna act like that? Then act like it, but I'm putting you in your place princess." She took off those shorts of yours and started to spread your legs harshly. She smashed her lips against yours and started to finger you with her slender fingers in a fast pace.

You were trying so hard to not make a noise but there was yelps and cries when she started to hit your g-spot. You were gonna cum so fast but she stopped everything right when you were about to.

She edged you in that bathroom for the longest time ever and she finally stopped. She stopped everything and just left you in that bathroom saying, "Get cleaned up baby. I'll meet you at dinner again. Don't think this is over yet because it's not. Once we're home your going on the bed I don't wanna hear excuses." Fuck, you were left there all needy and you were still dripping like hell:(

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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)

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

pairing: yoongi x reader

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

word count: 16k 🙈

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

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

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

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

read on AO3!

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you fucking kiddin—”

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of fucking course.

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wear glasses?”

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

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

“Wow, glasses? Really?”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.

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

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

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

“Guess so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.

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

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

“Is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, can I be honest?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am?”

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

“So are you,” Yoongi counters.

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

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

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

Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you nervous?”

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

“The Grammys?”

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you asking for my help?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He has good taste.”

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

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know Sakamoto?”

You hum a no as you shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And the Grammy goes to…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a good story.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, we’re closing in five.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re what?”

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

“In love with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was,” you echo. “Really.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-oh.”

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

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

“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”

“And?”

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

“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.

“On?” you snap, impatient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

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

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

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darkbluekies · 1 year

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Silas asks #5

Previous one next one

Concept: I've put multiple asks into one post to avoid too much loose posts on my account! This way, you have more to read too<3

Warnings: mafia, yandere, isolation ... the normal stuff

In Intruder, would Silas still have been able to find the reader if she didn't look to see what was on the USB? (Perhaps she didn't know she had a foreign USB in her purse in the first place) You mentioned Silas could see her on the webcam, but I assumed that was because she used the USB on the computer. Also, if she didn't see the USB would Silas have taken it back without question or would he have still kidnapped the reader? Sorry for all the questions, I'm just curious hehe 😅

Hm, interesting question. I think that Silas would be able to find the USB one way or another, either through a tracker on it or hacking into surveillance cameras to follow her. He would most likely not be too interested in getting her, but would think of her when he leaves ... which means that he'll be back for her.

There's this meme on tiktok that goes "my blickyyyyyy upon the dresseeeerrrrr" it remind me so much of Silas who definitely is the type of dude with a gun in his dresser 🔫 🔫

I haven't seen that meme, but Silas would 100% keep a gun in his dresser! For uh "safety reasons". Not to keep you in the room no no

Do you think the reader would ever develop Stockholm syndrome with Silas?

I actually think so. He treats you well when you're obedient so if you don't try to escape and actually listen to what he says, he will be the most wonderful man you can ever get your hands on. And that's dangerous for your mental health because anyone would fall for that.

With that Broken reader x Silas fanfic Does the reader have a caretaker that had been helping them?

[fanfic?]

Oneshot it's basef off of (i think)

No, Silas doesn't want anyone to be close to you, escpecially not after what you've been trough. He's scared that you'll fall for someone else in your fragile state. He needs you to be reliant on him only. You're vulnerable, perfect for him to mold how he wants you to be.

LOVING SILAS SM MWAH MWAH MWAH LEMME KITH YOU omg but like.. 😳 what if he grows to lowkey miss gen z reader's remarks and jokes in the long run😶. like ok yeah big man got what he wanted😮‍💨🫥 but now reader doesnt laugh or smile anymore cause theyre lowkey highkey traumatized😁💧 ykwim????

[omg thank you for the kith hehe]

Then he'll try to bring it back! Silas thinks that you're a toy that he can break and bend to be how he wants you to be. Somehow you'll be back to normal, he just needs to figure out how. He'll regret breaking you down so badly and will do his best to crack your numb shell.

"I like it when you smile. Come on, baby, curse at me. You know you like that. Tell a joke, I'll laugh, I promise. No, you won't get punished, little thing."

The Valentine's day ask for Silas got me thinking, what if his s/of wanted to get job? (cause I can't just do nothing all day) And since I'm sure he wouldn't let us go somewhere, what if we asked for him to hire us? (Cause if he wouldn't we can start looking for a online job or a job where we could leave and come back without getting caught) We can basically do some clean up or just paperwork 🤔. Also sorry if my English is bad

He'd hate the thought of you working because he thinks that you should be doing things you liked, but if you really had to, he'd keep you in his office, right by his side, where you can go through some papers. Of course not the ones that could make you scared. If there are no papers for you to go through, he'll print fake ones, just so you'll have something to do. As long as he'd keep you occupied, you'd not complain about being bored or wanting to leave.

"Ah, how about a break? We should take a nap on the couch. We've been working so well, don't you think, little thing? Come here, baby, let me hold you."

Silas be like "I'm gonna torture you badly" I be like "I like that"🥴Chain me up in the basement for punishment? "oooh kinky"Psychological torture? "Hey how'd you know I like mind games?"Threaten friends and family? *Looks around sarcastically "where are they? I don't see them!" 🙃In conclusion, I identify as a chaotic neutral that cannot be contained. Go ahead, do your worst! It'll be fun~ >:3

You'd be Silas's nightmare.

Ok that was weird how would Silas react to a mc who was in awe about how rich he was and shocked when they arrive at his mansion?

[what was weird ...?]

He'd be shocked. He's been in defense mode to give you a fright, to scare you into obedience ... but you're not scared?

"If I live here? Uh yeah, i do ... what about it? You like it? Yeah, I guess it's nice. Do you really like it that much?"

Hello 👁🫦👁. I love all your stories and I'm trying to figure out how best to behave with Silas so that he doesn't lock me in the basement, but also doesn't break my mind or bones😭p.s. i love the yandere characters but even chatting with AI yanderes gives me bad endings

As long as you do as he says, (you stay in your room, doesn't complain too much, doesn't nag and demand him to be let out) he'll be pleased with you. He'll take you out for dinner and dates and be more patient with you. The more you demand of him, the less likely you'll get it and the quicker you'll end up in the basement. He wants to be treated as a human being, depsite all the bad things he's done to you :)

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere fics #yandere mafia #yandere stories #yandere talks #yandere oc x you #yandere headcanon #yandere reactions #yandere asks #yandere ocs x reader #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #silas oc

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curi0us-gh0st · 9 months

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WARNINGS: smut, overstimulation, fingering, inappropriate language. (I think that's it!)

Imagine, you lying on the soft bed while shedding several tears, your lips red and swollen from biting them so hard to contain your own moans.

While the woman has three fingers inside her, fucking her greedy cunt soaked from too much stimulation. The fingers going in and out at insane speed, the sounds that were heard so pornographic from how wet you were.

And Momi dressed as Mask Girl on top of you in just a skirt and bra, her back stinging from her fingernails tracing red lines into it as she slammed deep into you, always ebbing near orgasm, teasing you.

"C'mon baby, what would your girlfriend say if she saw me fucking that slutty pussy of yours, huh?" She whispered next to her face, fingers curling into her sodden insides drawing a cry from her.

"Oh! Please. Please let me come!" You asked tearfully, she was driving you crazy.

"Be a good bitch and answer the question." She hit her sweet spot. "And maybe, I'll think about whether or not you should come." Momi lifted his thumb to circle her clit in need of attention.

"She- She would hate that!" You moaned aloud when again she curled her fingers, you scratching the shore freely.

"And?" She wanted more. A lot more.

"But… But, I'm yours!" You screamed. "I'm all yours!"

"Mine? All mine for what?" She asked slowing down her movements.

"No no." You whimpered. "I'm your slut! Please Mask Girl let me come!"

"That's right. Of course baby." Momi curled his fingers inside her, back and forth quickly, hitting her spongy spot as his pussy tightened and spurted his cum into her hand, squirting.

You arching your back and screaming with excessive pleasure. Momi slowed down as you descended from the top, your breathing evening out.

"You were-" She was interrupted by you kicking off your mask and wig making it fall beside you as you cupped her face and kissed her passionately.

"Thank you my love." You whispered leaving another kiss on her full lips. "You are the best and most beautiful girlfriend in the world." he praised her breathlessly as he looked down at her.

Her eyes sparkled with pure pleasure and admiration for Kim Momi. She smiled and returned the kiss. "I love you too sweetheart."

A/N: Well, it wasn't the best but shit! That was like... The first thing I thought of watching Mask Girl! 🎭 (Now I literally don't know if it's Kim Momi or Kim Mimo 🥴)

I simply created a crush on the actresses who play it, before and after, both are beautiful! 🙏🏻 (no kidding, women, especially tall ones, are my undoing!)

(sorry for anything, english is not my first language!)

#smut #kdrama fic #kdrama smut #mask girl #mask girl smut #mask girl fic #kim momi x reader #mask girl x reader #lee han byul x reader #im jinah x reader #lee han byul #im jinah #wlw #👻 gh0st fic !

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