#because I literally have content of him on here and he’s a public figure

[polyamorouspunk]

Also going insane today from lack of attention. Shout out to bpd for sucking 👍

-potato

Yes. It sure does.

[elllisaaa]

skz and their kinks

-> pairing : skz x fem!reader

-> words count : 5.8k

-> genre : pure smut, what kinks i think the skz members have

-> warnings : dirty talk, swearing, use of 'slut', 'whore', 'doll', 'babygirl', 'kitten', 'princess', 'angel', 'good boy' and 'fucktoy', rough sex, spanking, impact play, dacraphylia, degradation kink, marking, biting, oral (m. and f. receiving), teasing, overstimulation, edging, thigh riding, lingerie, praise kink, size kink, public/semi-public sex, bondage, shibari, voice kink, fingering, dry humping, breeding kink, creampie, choking (giving and receiving), sex toys, hair pulling, begging, pain kink.

+ the way i'm depicting skz members does not represent them, it's only a work of fiction.

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist

BANGCHAN

DIRTY TALK

→ look at him flirting and teasing stays all the time, it's obvious he'll like to do the same with you in the bedroom. he loves seeing you squirm and whine because of his words only, enjoying how his voice alone can make you wither and beg. kinda fuel his ego too, how he just needs to tell you you're a whore - his whore - to get you on your knees. he sometimes adds a touch of degradation to the mix, smirking at himself when you clench around him tighter. 

"my needy little slut, can't even wait one hour for me to finish my work you have to touch yourself. are you that desperate for my cock doll ?"

→ he also loves to explain all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to have you. and that reduces you to a babbling mess every time, anticipating the pleasure you know you’re going to receive. chan loves to know that he can almost bring you to an orgasm without even touching you and just by reminding you how good he can make you feel. 

"and then, i'm going to fuck you until the only thing you remember is my name. got it little whore ?"

SPANKING

→ part of the hard!dom channie agenda and i'm always here for it. like yes, he can be the best service!dom ever, but piss him off a little too much and it's over for you. he'll bend you over the armrest of the couch, flipping up your cute little skirt just to find your panties already soaked in your arousal. i swear he’ll let out the most sinful groans at the view.

"bet you got on my fucking nerves just for me to punish you doll, didn't you ?"

→ he wasn't waiting for an answer, and you figured it out as he landed his hand for the first time on your ass, the sound echoing through the room along with your broken moans. you loved the burn on your cheeks, loved feeling chan's large figure standing behind you like a silent threat. and he loved how your skin was getting more and more sensitive and red as he spanked you a couple more times, reminding you every now and then to follow his orders.

"you're losing count again babygirl. don't forget what I said. ten and I'll let you get my cock, understood ?"

MIRROR SEX

→ chan is a simp for your body. literally praises you every time he gets to admire you. and if you're ever insecure about any parts of you, he'll be there to compliment them specifically and make you feel better about your complex. and one of his favourite way of showing you how much he loves every one of your curves is to fuck you in front of a mirror. repeating over and over how beautiful and perfect you are while he got you moaning his name.

"- look at you baby. I said look at you. that's it babygirl. see, you take me so well. fuck... it's like you were made for me."

→ and all you could do was agreeing with him. he'll force you to repeat his words, or else, he'll stop and leave you crying for his cock until you said what he wanted. he also loves to see your teary eyes through the reflection of the mirror, desperation pouring out of them. loves to make you see how much of an effect you have on him too. 

"you're so perfect, you're going to make me cum."

LEE MINHO

DACRAPHYLIA

→ he's very passionate when it comes to sex. and that means he often gets a little rough (not that you're complaining), but he doesn't always realize that it may be too much for you, especially at the start of your relationship. that's how you ended up with tears rolling down your cheeks, with minho between your legs, far too lost in the taste of your sweet cunt to carefully listen to you. only when you sobbed did he notice your watery eyes and ragged breathing. you thought that would deter him, but that's when he clearly discovered a new kink of his.

"is that already too much for you kitten ? can't wait to watch how you'll cry for my cock then."

→ and you see that grin of his ? yeah, that's definitely how he's looking at you everytime you start crying for him. from now on, minho discovered a new goal whenever the two of you fuck : make those tears spill out from your beautiful eyes again and again. hearing your broken sobs makes him groan louder every time, it’s like music. minho would be so cocky about it, cooing at you everytime he sees tears gathering in your eyes. 

“are you crying again kitten ? so cute, my little crybaby cannot handle being fucked that good.”

MARKING

→ for me, minho is not jealous that easily, but he is really possessive, only proud to show off that you’re his. always has his hands on you when you’re out with him. so another way of signaling that you’re taken is by littering your whole body with marks. and we all know that he loves teasing, so it’ll be a good way to tease you to slowly suck and kiss every inch of your body. he’ll get you whining before he even reaches your pussy.

“purple really is your color baby, you’re so pretty like this…”

→ also discovered that he kinda loves having your marks on him too. for example, one time you kissed his cheeks before going out with your friends and left a lipstick stain on his skin. minho couldn’t help but smile to himself when he saw that in the mirror. also very cocky about waking up with the imprint of your nails on his back or to hickeys covering his neck, he wouldn’t resist the urge to make snarky remarks (but really, he’s so proud of them, don’t stop doing that).

“i’ll have to mark you again for us to match, what do you think ?"

OVERSTIMULATION

→ goes with dacryphilia because that’s the easiest way to get tears from you, and also just loves to see you fall apart under his touch. minho has pretty hands and he knows how to use them to make you cum at least three times before he even fucks you. and when he finally does put it in, you’re so tight he has to restrain himself from blowing too fast. he also loves how shameless you become after the first two orgasms, moaning out loud and dirty talking. 

“you’re so nasty baby, it’s so fucking hot.”

→ minho would love how sensitive you are when he overstimulates you with his tongue,

gripping his hair tightly when it becomes too much. you could feel his smile against your cunt while he got you to your climax again and again, and he would hold your shaking thighs so hard, wanting nothing more than to bury himself deep inside of you. would definitely always make you cum for the last time on his cock.

“come on kitten, i know you can give me one more.”

SEO CHANGBIN

THIGH RIDING

→ have you seen this man's thighs ??? of course you’ll want to ride them, it’s like the first thing you’ll fantasize about doing with him. it’ll happen for the first during one of your makeout sessions, you straddling his lap and unconsciously grinding against him, whining into his mouth. since then, he’ll push you down on his thigh all the time, watching you mesmerized as you ride it. he could probably come just from the lustful sight in front of his eyes, gripping your hips but not doing anything to guide you because he’s too lost into his contemplation.

“you’re beautiful baby… shit, how did i get so lucky ?”

→ after a while, he’ll start using that as a punishment : forcing you to ride his thigh until yours gave out, making you cry but not fucking you until you came all over him. i feel like he would love to make you ride his clothed thigh as much as his skin. on the one hand, seeing your arousal soaking his jeans makes him go feral, but on the other hand, the feeling of your wet cunt on his bare skin is so good too. either way, he’s got you trembling on top of him before he gets you shaking underneath him.

“that’s it, make a mess on my thigh… and then i’ll let you make a mess on my cock.”

LINGERIE

→ your body is literally a work of art in his eyes. let me tell you the first time he saw you naked, his jaw hit the floor. and to this day, he’s not immune yet to the effect you have on him. usually, changbin doesn’t really care about what underwear you’re wearing, but that one time you welcomed him from work in that red lingerie set, something inside of him switched. that night, he fucked you on the kitchen counter, in the shower and again in your bedroom. that’s the easiest way to drive changbin insane.

“you’re so fucking sexy, and that’s all for me ?”

→ he particularly loves how the lacy one's compliment perfectly every one of your curves, and how different certain colors makes you look like. he adores when you wear red, black or dark green, and how slutty you seem to be. he’ll happily let you ride him, with his face buried in your breast (he’s a boob guy). but he also has a thing for you wearing white and pastel colors, and how innocent it makes you look. it gives changbin an urge to corrupt you, make you go down on your knees for him and take his cock in your mouth. also, if you ever bring him with you to go buy new lingerie sets, don’t get surprised if you end up being fucked in the dressing room, because this man cannot contain himself when you ask him if this or that looks good on you when you’re simply a goddess to him.

“of course you look good baby, you’re stunning… makes me want to fuck you right now.”

SIZE KINK

→ changbin is buff, that’s a fact (and he’s hot), he knows it and you know it too, and that turns you on a lot. he loves when you throw yourself at him whenever he comes back all sweaty from the gym, unable to resist the urge to touch him when he looks so good. it was your kink at first, but it grew on him after a while. and now he gets a boner everytime he takes you to the gym with him and you lift so light weights compared to him, or when he sees your tiny figure besides his huge one in the mirror. changbin has definitely fucked you more than once in the changing room.

“your little cunt is so tight baby… fuck ! gonna fill you up so good…”

→ another thing that drives him crazy is how small you look underneath him, when he fucks you so roughly he thinks he’ll split you in half. but all you do is ask for more : more of his big cock forming a bulge in your abdomen, more of his big hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re unable to move, more of his big muscles tensing up when he holds you down. and he always gives you all of that without any hesitation because he really just wants to please you. he’ll place his hand on the bulge that formed in your tummy and press down on it, loving how you moan louder every time. 

“see how big i am baby ? your pussy so tiny i can feel myself…”

HWANG HYUNJIN

BONDAGE / SHIBARI

→ he would love to tie your hands to the bed, usually with pretty ribbons or ropes with a color that contrasts with your skin tone. don’t mistake him, he loves the way you’re always gripping his hair or clawing your hands at any part of his body you can reach, but to have you unable to move underneath him excites him to no extent. then, hyunjin has all the time in the world to explore your body how he likes it : licking, kissing, touching every part of you until he remembers every one of your features. 

“just let me spoil you princess.”

→ and i think he would also love shibari, because of how artistic it looks. hyunjin’s creativity takes a new turn when he learns new ways to tie up your body. being the gentleman he is, he would always make sure that the knots are not too tight. but when he starts fucking you, he’s using the ropes as a leverage, especially if he’s having his way with you from behind. also loves to tug on them as he’s eating you out. and he definitely grins when he sees the red marks it left on your skin.

“so beautiful, all tied up for me like that… you’re going to let me use you how i want now ?”

VOICE KINK

→ he drinks up all the little noises you make when he’s touching you in any way, it’s like music to his ears. at first, you were too shy to let him hear your moans, but after he told you how much he loved them, it became a concert. every sound coming out of your mouth goes directly to his cock, especially when you whine his name and ask him for more. and if you ever start to whisper something in his ear before going down on him, bet that he’s a babbling mess under your hands in the next seconds. if you ever tried to silence your voice, he would immediately restrain you.

“no, no, no, princess ! don’t do that, let me hear you, please ?”

→ hyunjin is also fond of his own voice. but that’s something he’s ashamed of, and would never talk about if you don’t bring it up yourself. it probably started when he realized how he cummed quicker when he let himself be loud. and it goes on from there. he adores to hear your mixed moans and whimpers, ensuring him that you’re both equally desperate for each other. he’s not as slick as he thinks though, because you clearly noticed how he couldn’t stop himself from speeding his thrusts when he made you gag on his fingers to hear just his own noises.

“ah… fuck ! angel, your voice so sexy… i could cum just by listening to you.”

DRY HUMPING

→ i’m a firm believer that hyunjin is one of the most passionate kissers out of all the members. his plump lips are all i need to state that. so don’t be surprised if every one of his kisses almost always ends up in a full makeout session. he doesn’t care if there’s people around you or not : if he wants to kiss you, he will. that being said, he would 100% love to have you straddling his lap while devouring your mouth, the most lovesick eyes diving in yours everytime you pull out to breath. he’s obviously hard the moment his lips touch yours, and he doesn’t stop you when you start grinding on him. it feels so good even with all your clothes still on.

“don’t stop princess, you’re making me feel amazing.”

→ if for some person, it’s simply foreplay, for him, it’s just as good as fucking you. he doesn’t know if it’s the little rush of shame he feels everytime you make him cum in his pants, or how turned on he gets again just from seeing the wet trail you left on his clothes, but he finds himself craving this feeling. with you on top of him, grabbing his hair and kissing his neck, and the possibility for him to grab your ass and listen to your pretty moans of his name, there’s now way he’ll deny you when you start unconsciously grinding down on him. hyunjin also loves how intimate it feels, with your bodies so close, limbs tangled together and whining into each other's mouths. 

“god, i can feel how wet you are through my jeans…”

HAN JISUNG

BREEDING KINK

→ definitely the type of guy who needs a minute or two to compose himself everytime he pushes his cock into you or else he’ll blow immediately. so let me tell you that the first time he had fucked you raw, he had not been able to control himself and almost immediately spilled his load into you. when he pulled out and saw his cum leaking out of your sweet cunt, that’s where his breeding kink started. han doesn’t want kids, or at least, not now - and he’s always been very cautious with condoms and your contraception. but after that, all he could think about was filling you up with his seed until you couldn’t take it anymore. the idea of seeing you pregnant doesn’t even seem appealing right now. no. it’s just the thought of his cum inside of you that was driving him crazy.

“ah baby you’re dripping from my cum, so full… does it feel good ?”

→ i’m always here for pussydrunk!jisung so i think he’d kinda love to overstimulate himself after he had already come multiple times, still thrusting inside of you just to see his cum spill outside of your cunt. jisung would also be so vocal and whiny when he’s releasing inside of you - well, he normally is pretty loud, but even more so in this situation. his moans are always overpowering yours and he can’t shut up about how good you’re squeezing him and how bad he wants to paint your walls white. 

“fuck… b-baby your pussy s-so good, you feel so good ! please let me cum inside… please…”

PRAISE KINK

→ he needs to know that he’s doing good. well, he can almost always say by how vocal you are that you appreciate his actions. but he wants to hear it, wants to hear you call him a good boy, or tell him that he’s making you feel good. it’s unmistakable as he moans loudly whenever you do it, becoming a babbling mess every time a praise leaves your mouth. han especially loves it if you purposely do it just before he cums : he gets a rush of adrenaline that makes his orgasm ten times better.

“do you like that ? am i making you feel good ? please tell me baby…”

→ this guy is 100% a switch, and when you take control, he’s especially reactive to every praise that leaves your mouth. but he also knows that you’re going to make him work for that. honestly, that’s not even a punishment for him because he could spend hours between your thighs. that’s only after coaxing at least three orgasms out of you that you finally comply to ride him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as soon as you sink down on his cock. 

“tell me i’ve been good… ah ! yes ! yes i’m your good boy, only yours !”

CHOKING (RECEIVING)

→ jisung never knew this was one of his kinks before meeting you. well, that’s a bit of lie. he actually discovered it when stumbling on a particular video when watching porn. he tried it, just to test the water, and he was so ashamed of how fast he came with his hand squeezing his throat that he never really authorized himself to do it again. he felt silly, and he didn’t want to scare you off. however, soon into your relationship, you asked him to try something. he was so surprised when your hand settled on his neck he thought he was dreaming, hips jolting upwards in your cunt when you pressed down, restricting his breath. and if you do it while sitting on his face, it really is over for him. 

“oh my god… don’t stop please, squeeze harder, ah ! y/n…”

→ even when he’s domming, he just wants your hand around his throat. he’ll fuck you so hard if you do it, pounding into you and gripping you so tightly you find the imprints of his hands on you even three days after. he’s so weak everytime you touch the sensitive skin of his neck, but that also fuels him to ruin you, talking non-stop to let you know how good you’re making him feel, and how much he loves your body. he makes you cum over and over again until you’re both dripping from your arousal. 

“look at you y/n, you’re supposed to be the one choking me but you’re literally crying out my name. ironic isn’t it ? shh, don’t say anything, i’ll make sure you only remember my name by the end of the night.”

LEE FELIX

BITING

→ it would start innocently, like felix biting you playfully - just another way to show his affection towards you. and you love it so much, it reminds you how appreciated you are. but one day, you decide to bite him back, and since you were nuzzled against him, you go for his neck, your teeth gently nibbling at the soft skin. you don’t expect him to moan, nor does he. the vivid blush on his cheeks would be so cute when you asked him if he wanted you to do it again. and when he nobbed, he found his body littered in bite marks in no time. 

“shit angel ! please don’t stop… i love seeing your marks all over me”

→ felix knows that it’s a little risky, because these bite marks could be seen by anyone if his shirt lifts a little too much, but he’s too thrilled by the idea of retracing the pathway of your mouth on his body in the mirror. though, all the members already saw one or two imprints of your teeth on his skin, laughing and saying you were a vampire. felix would laugh it off, but deep down, he wants you to leave even more of them. it gives him the feeling that he’s completely yours, that he’s at your disposal whenever you need him, but he keeps that to himself for now.

“keep biting me, make me yours angel.”

SEX TOYS

→ he would do anything to please you, like really anything. and he also loves so much to make you fall apart under him, loves to hear you moan freely and see your beautiful glossy eyes. that’s why i think he would introduce you to sex toys. because even if he loves to satisfy you with his fingers and tongue, he wants to show you other forms of bliss. he’ll buy a selection of different types of toys, explain to you how to use the ones you don’t know, and then, describing how he plans on using them on you. 

“and when you’ll be wet enough, i’ll make you fuck yourself on that dildo until you cum again.”

→ as much as i see felix as a sub, i can also picture him as a really mean!dom if he’s particularly stressed or worn out. will ask you to stay still while he overstimulates you again and again with all sorts of toys. on other days, he’ll edge you to tears, but that’s really rare. most of the time, he’s really gentle and careful. i think he’d also be really into training you to take bigger dildos everytime, spreading you out enough for him to just slip his cock into you with ease. 

“your pussy looks so pretty like that, so full…”

DEGRADATION

→ i’ve already said that but sub!felix lives in my mind rent free everyday. and he would fall in love with you again if you started to degrade him. he loves it when you’re domming him, pushing his head between your thighs and riding his face shamelessly, and telling him how useless he is, how he’s just a fucktoy to you, only here to please you when you need it. also, please ride him while whispering in his ears that you only want him for his cock and he’ll go crazy. 

“yes ! i’m just a fucktoy, i’m your fucktoy !”

→ even when he’s on top, fucking into you at a sloppy pace, he’ll love to hear your mean words in between your contained moans. he knows this is only an act, and he loves it, but he’ll need a really good aftercare. felix becomes all clingy (in the best way possible), just wanting to be smothered in kisses and affirmation words of how good he did. he’s also (secretly) a sucker for you murmuring nasty words in his ears while both of you are with other person. expect a very passionate makeout session in his car, because he can’t wait to go home and would love it even more if you called him a slut for it.

“sorry, sorry, but you’re too hot i couldn’t wait…”

KIM SEUNGMIN

CHOKING (GIVING)

→ have you seen his hands ? of course you want them wrapped up around your throat, and that’s not like he doesn’t love it himself. when he’s fucking you in missionary, expect his hand to settle on your neck very quickly, squeezing lightly at first, just to make it a little harder to breathe. and then he would really apply pressure, making you dizzy with the lack of oxygen and teasing you for being a whimpering mess every time he did so. would also love to run his fingers along your throat and neck every now and then, smirking when he sees you shiver at how sensitive you are.

“my hand around your throat is all you need to cum huh ?”

→ he would love to make you beg for him to choke you out. and bet that he would make you work for it too. seungmin is either going to overstimulate you to death and touch you everywhere, or not touch you at all and make you touch yourself until you can’t take it anymore. either way, it’s not until you beg him that he’ll indulge and wrap his hand around your neck. adores to have you on your knees and fuck your throat before he squeezes it to force you up and finally choke you out properly. also likes to hear how hoarse your voice is after, and how broken your moans sounds.

“instead, i’m going to fuck your throat first. be good and take it, and you’ll get what you want.”

EDGING

→ most of the time, seungmin wouldn’t be mean to you. as long as you didn’t disobey, he would not keep things that you loved away from you. but one time, when you really got on his nerves, he decided to have you crying under him and not let you cum. yes, he touched you like you were asking him to for hours, but that was not enough, seungmin purposely stopping just as you were about to reach your climax. and he loved how tight you were getting every time he ruined another of your orgasms, relishing in the way you cried out every time he did stopped one more time.

“i don’t know why you’re complaining little brat, i’m fucking you just like you asked me to.”

→ one of the things he loves the most about edging you is how shameless you become as he ruins your orgasms again and again. after the third one, you start begging him to let you cum, a delightful sound if you asked him. and if he kept going for a little few more, you would start to moan loudly, to fuck yourself onto his hand or cock, to scratch his forearms with your nails, in a vain attempt of getting him to keep moving his fingers inside of you. he loves that he can get you to such a desperate state so easily. and watching you as you finally release all over him and the sheets, a litany of “thank you” leaving your lips, is certainly one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

“not yet baby, i know you can handle one more, and after i’ll let you cum. just one more.

HAIR PULLING

→ of course this little tease would love to pull your hair whenever he can. i can picture him dragging you by your hair to the bed if you’ve pissed him off, or using them as a leverage to fuck your throat. his grip will be more loose when he’s in a good mood, but if you’ve been bad and disobeyed him, anything coming near to tenderness would disappear (and you love it). he would like to have you from behind for that one reason, gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail to keep you from silencing your moan in the pillow.

“don’t act like that’s not exactly what you wanted brat, i’ll make you remember how much of a slut you are.”

→ and i think he would also adore you tugging at his roots when he’s going down on you, letting out a groan every time you do so. on a softer note, he’s a sucker for you scratching his scalp gently and running your hands through his hair. so it’s no wonder that he loves it too when you’re more rough. he’ll let you pull his hair for a second, biting his lips, before pulling at yours and making you moan loudly, a smirk spreading on his face. would call you out and pretend to punish you for doing that but really it makes him cum so much harder, but you don’t tell him that you noticed and neither that you do it on purpose. 

“don’t do that again unless you want me to ruin your tight little cunt.”

YANG JEONGIN

PUBLIC / SEMI-PUBLIC SEX

→ he would certainly be too embarrassed to talk about it to you in the first place, but you would catch on the way he always has his hands on you whenever you’re out with friends, or even if you’re alone. he would put his arm around your shoulder, his hand on your thigh to squeeze it gently from time to time, sometimes letting his fingers creep up a little higher. but it never got further than those lingering touches that made you wonder if he would love to fuck you in the bathroom of the restaurant. until it happened one day, during a dinner with the other members, after not seeing each other for almost a week, he would bend you over the counter of the toilet, making you watch yourself in the mirror as he pounded into you.

“you know what that dress does to me, don’t you ? you just wanted everyone to hear how much of a slut you are for me…”

→ and since then, it almost became a challenge between the two of you to fuck in the most unusual locations. what really got him going was the thought of not only someone hearing how good he was making you feel, but also to see how much of a mess he made out of you every time. he wanted everyone to witness this, wanted them to only be able to envy you because they could never have what you had, never be fucked like he was fucking you. and he’s definitely eager to make you scream particularly loud when you come to the dorms and that the others are here too, turned on by the fact that they could be hearing all the noises you were making.

“no, no, no baby, don’t cover your mouth, i want them to know how good i’m making you feel.”

BEGGING

→ jeongin is a sucker for all the noises you make, so don’t even try to cover your mouth or silence them. he would also enjoy to ask you question while he’s fucking you, just for the pleasure of hearing you struggle to answer to him, interrupted by whines and moans every now and then. but what makes him go feral is when you beg for him. sometimes, he would not force it out of you, you would simply start to beg him for more, or to go faster. and that’s such a turn on for him, because he takes pride in the fact that he’s making you feel as crazy as he is. 

“you don’t need to beg for that honey, you’re gonna get it.”

→ but at other times, he would make you work for it and he would absolutely love to see you fall apart under him. jeongin would only put one finger inside of you, not enough to make you cum but certainly enough to drive you insane and beg him to add another one. or he would fuck into you at an agonisingly slow pace, pinning your hips down to prevent you from fucking yourself faster on his cock. and he would not be satisfied until you’re crying for him, pleas falling from your lips non-stop. he feels so powerful, it’s as if you’re helpless and that only him can help you. and well, he kinda is because he has certainly ruined you for any other man. 

“you want me to fuck you ? beg for it. beg for it and i’ll think about it.”

PAIN KINK

→ i’ll never shut up about this one, because he definitely loves feeling pain during sex. first and foremost, pull his hair. he would let out the most sinful whimpers if you did. he also loves it when you tug not so gently at them when you two are making out, it makes him hard immediately. i think he also has a thing for scratches. like, scratch his back with your nails all you want, it will only make him go harder on you. he adores how the marks you left burn the next day, and how beautiful it looks in the mirror. it's like you claiming him as yours, and the delicious sting of pain when you’re sinking your nails into his skin makes him cum so much harder.

“fuck baby, i love it so much when you’re rough.”

→ also, even if he knows that he likes pain, he doesn’t know to what extent, and he would be glad to explore all the aspects of his kink with you. he would be down to try a lot of things, and he would also encourage you to bring your own ideas. that’s how he discovered how much he loved it when you slapped him. you were riding him, and he couldn’t stop being cocky about how much you loved his cock, and how whiny you were. the thought crossed your mind, and without much reflection, you landed your hand on his cheek. jeongin left out a noise between surprise and pleasure before asking to do it again, and again.

“slap me again, please… it hurts so good baby.”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

skz taglist (fill in this to be added) :

@minnies-babie @binwons @yoongles2025 @thicccurls

[incidentallysunny]

I Was Never There.

Death Island Leon x Reader

Real!Dad Leon

Dead dove warning.

13k word count. Proof read 3 times until I got to around 11k then I stopped worrying and just skimmed. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I’d like to appear in the tagz pls so here’s a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing f*cked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don’t be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, daddy-issues, age-gap, overall disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, mentions of oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, any probably some other irrelevant shit I’m forgetting my b.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it’s a long one.

The drive from your college town to where your home had been all your life was as expected. Nostalgia and homesickness being mixed in your gut like a can of paint in one of those weird machines at the hardware store that your dad would take you to. Speaking of dad, you hardly remember him. He was present for a short while, your mom always excusing his absence with work this and work that. He really did get busy, though. Almost dying several times. You still remember your moms panicked phone calls, her countless prescription drugs for the same problems you now suffer from, and her late-night bathroom breakdowns. Apparently he couldn’t get out of this job though. Some real fucked up government shit he was tied to, your mom explained. All you know about him is that he saved the president’s daughter. Whatever.

So yeah- a perfect life with a perfect set of parents. One being mentally driven through the dirt and the other that you haven’t seen in 8 years or maybe more. You can’t seem to remember if the last few times you saw your dad were daisied dreams or reality. Bastard has never FaceTimed or video called you, either. Dunno if he even had a phone capable of that. Either way, it must be for the better, because your grades had been sufficient without stressors on your mind. And we all know a low-effort dad would definitely be one. But perhaps he’d rather just be there in person. Older people are like that.

You grunted, trying to drag your over-packed suitcase up the steep suburban driveway before sighing and standing in place. Sure, you didn’t need to bring so much shit home, but would you really want to risk some bitch at college stealing anything from your quad-dorm?

Before you could think and figure out how you’d even get the plastic luggage up the pristine, hand-painted porch steps and inside (without scratching them up and having your parents on your ass about their perfect house having a flaw) a voice called out to you. Unrecognized and not ringing any of the bells in your head. (If there were any left)

“Hey there, sweetheart. It’s been a while, huh?”

You turned to see a middle-aged man, similar to the last memory of your dad that had been printing-pressed into your mind for safe keeping. He was just emerging from the front door, broad chest accentuated by a well-fitted T-shirt. You immediately felt angry that his tits were bigger than yours. Would probably look better with a bra, too.

You didn’t answer.

Fuck- nerves were getting the better of you. Your palms were slick with sweat and you didn’t know if it was from the building summer humidity or anxiety. Was this normal? No the fuck it wasn’t.

“Uhh.. dad?” You queried- almost certain the gorgeous man at the door was just a hotter, older version of your dad and not actually him. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re getting this worked up over your father? Did college drinking really rewire your brain to be this fucked or is it all of the anxiety meds? Maybe both. Maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because you rarely saw him and have zero attachment.

“Yeah, it’s me. Your old man. Missed you, kiddo.” There’s a pause for a moment- because you’re not sure why he’s talking so casually as if you see each other every weekend- like it hasn’t been years and years since you’ve seen him.

“Don’t remember me,huh?” He laughs satirically- like you’re supposed to be so sure. It makes you slightly furious and the feeling of anger bubbles up again- replacing any strange thoughts you were having moments ago.

No, my apologies dearest dad. I totally recognize you despite having met you enough times to count on almost two hands.

But the better part of you that managed to exist underneath the scores of problems you had just replied in jest- like someone without said scores of problems. It was best to keep the peace for now.

“You look a little different… sorry.” Is that all you can manage? It’s pitiful the state that your sullied mind is in.

He chuckles, though, like he knows your’re right. The sound is more pleasant and striking when it’s genuine. Makes you feel damp in other areas than just your armpits (thank you, heatwave).

“I suppose there’s truth to that. But It’s alright, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long time. People change, right?” His eyes scan you in an undecided way.

“But you, shit. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. College treating you well?” His words sound a little huffed then, he’s clearly beating around the bigger issue with a stick. But him calling you beautiful and being all fucking sappy makes your face feel hot and sticky like it’ll melt off. Got you wanting to rip the hair from your scalp to hear him say it again.

“Please?” You called out gently- gesturing to the suitcase and ignoring any other question. You were very much overstimulated- having overexerted muscles in your arms by being a weak bitch about a crammed carry-on. Just get your ass out here and help your daughter, thanks.

He shook his head- again laughing hotly while looking down as he stepped off the porch- his brown bangs were peppered with greys and they brushed his face on one side, his hair somehow pornographic on its own. Christ. He looked like one of those men you saw on Viagra commercials that obviously didn’t actually need it. Even the sight of your perfectly trimmed lawn and faux-looking home completed the scene. Where was the camera?

He walked over to you- there was a slight stiff in his stride; like he had a bad back or something. Maybe he did. Almost dying was the likely cause for that. Serves him right for leaving you with issues on top of issues. Maybe you should stop being mean, you’re the one getting hot over your own father. Again- because of him. Circle back to square one.

Leon towered over your frame as he hinged at the hips, picking up the suitcase with ease- the muscles in his arm flexed with each small movement. His face was a tinge of smug with a mix of something else…satisfaction? Maybe he was just pleased he was able to lift it without rupturing a hernia. Jesus Christ, his veins. You wonder if he has them anywhere else. No- maybe you should be wondering about taking your ass to an inpatient facility immediately. A few screws are loose and you don’t exactly have the tools to tighten them.

“I guess college did treat you well. You’re here in one piece.” He says- cutting you thickly from your thoughts and answering his own question from earlier. His blue eyes are sweet and gently lined with signs of aging. Which only makes him hotter- just like the fiery pits of hell that await you.

You scoff.

“Well, it’s not like I went to war or something.”

“Still. It’s nice to see you, sweetheart.” The word rolls off his tongue again. Your insides are trapezing around in their own miniature, fleshy circus- you’re wishing you could stab yourself in the stomach to stop the swarm of butterflies that don’t even feel metaphorical anymore. You’re sure they’re real now.

He continues, though.

“I know I haven’t been around much in your life- this fucking job and-“ You stare up at him- glossy doe-eyes and stupid look on your face. An apology- or even an explanation from your daddy might be part of what your scrambled brain needs.

“Work kept me away, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. Shit… What I mean to say, is- things will be different. I’ve retired. Your mother wanted me to tell you over dinner later but I figured you’d be happy to know. I’m not the best at keeping secrets.” He jokes at the end, but how is that true in the slightest? He’s kept his job a secret for your entire life, so he clearly can’t be that horrible at it.

“Oh.” Leaves your lips quietly, ghosting over Leon and leaving him wondering if he said something wrong. But then he realizes it’s probably just overwhelming for you. The worst part of him thinks you hate him. A feeling overcomes you though, and you rush in to wrap your arms around his waist- hugging him tightly. You now wonder why he didn’t hug you to begin with. Maybe he wasn’t an affectionate guy.

He says nothing at first- he’s even more awkward than you are if it’s possible. But he’s trying. He sets down your suitcase before returning your hold. One arm comes around the back of you and the other is overlapped on top- a hand nestling on the back of your head. Seems he’s getting a bit emotional, too. The attention from him is nice, though.

When you make a small grunt as to wanting to end the hug, his hands linger on your shoulders and he smiles at you. You actually return to, not feeling anything horrid become of your thoughts right now. Whether it be anger or incestual lust.

—

Your dad pushes the front door open with one of his large hands encased on the knob. Hands you immediately find attractive, wondering if they’d feel nice scissoring your cunt open. You now begin to understand why your mom was getting suicidal over him possibly not returning home. You’d kill yourself over him too. But that’s too morbid- especially after the moment you just shared.

That’s already lost to you.

He shut the door firmly, sighing, then gestures to the stairs.

You went up first, self conscious about your backside being right in front of his view but he was your dad. Wouldn’t be looking at you that way. You’re just brain-rotted and have an ill opinion of men.

Your old bedroom still looked the same, basically. Just emptier and more hollow without your things. But the walls were still painted a babydoll-pink and lined with the few girlish decorations you left on the wall. No way you would have been caught dead with those in your dorm. Not unless you wanted to endure torment and bullying that’d lead you to jumping off the dormitory roof.

He sets your luggage down and takes a seat on your bed. A groan escapes him as he puts a hand on his lower back for a moment.

“I see this room hasn’t changed much, has it?” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mom and I had a blast putting it together for you when she was pregnant.”

Yikes. You almost feel guilt for both the incestuous thoughts and the fact you may have ruined your parents' marriage. Maybe that’s not true. It was his work- not you. After all, he’s insinuating how happy they were to have you brought into this world. Plus- they were fine. Never argued or anything.

“I’m sorry. I dont- I don’t know what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, throwing your hands slightly up by your side.

His face doesn’t drop, though. It seems he understands perfectly fine.

“It’s okay. We can start from scratch. Not talk about… your room or childhood stuff. I know it’s a sore spot for you, sweetheart.”

Wrong. It’s more like a festering wound with the rusted knife still wedged in it. The knife being Leon and the wound your daddy issues, by the way. And having no attachment to him as a father figure makes the attraction worse. Notably when he calls you any term of endearment. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

What the fuck. Was he sculpted by Satan himself as some kind of hell-on-earth punishment? Is this purgatory? Everything he did now was driving you up the wall like a roach- every movement and small flex showing a vein or bulge of muscle. And his arm hair didn’t help. Fucking Christ- shave it off or something. You don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it.

“Okay…. How does that work?” You cocked your head to the side a little, shifting your weight onto one leg. A nervous habit.

“Well- what do most parents do with their kids? We could go out for dinner, catch a movie, just… hang out. I’d like to spend time with my daughter, you know.”

Okay, so maybe he did care. That’s a start.

“Uh… all three?” You questioned, an eyebrow lifting along with the infliction of your voice towards the end of your sentence. You’re indecisive like your mom.

He smiled, lines and the corners of his mouth pressed. Happy. Something you heard wasn’t common for him, anyways.

“Of course. We can go out tomorrow, honey. Your mom just wants us to all have dinner together when she gets home. She missed you- not as much as I did, I bet.” He does that stupid fucking wink again. It makes you switch emotions and want to throw something at his head. Maybe your lamp. You feel bad, It’s not his fault you’re acting like a mental freak about him. You don’t even bother to fixate on the fact you’ll have to have dinner with your cunt of a mom. Okay, maybe that’s harsh.

“Okay.” You breathe out, looking around your room. Leon takes that as a cue to stand up from your old bed- the thing creaking from his weight and leaving an indent on your comforter.

“It’s a date, then. I’m going to start dinner. As much as I love your mother, she can be…scary.” He says, still rocking that pressed-in-cheek smile and cracking your door closed behind him. By the way, what he really meant was probably ‘bitchy’- not scary. But dad seems too kind to say that. He loves your mom.

You can breathe again without his presence. It was smothering, like you had to overperform. You find yourself rushing to your dresser mirror to check how you looked. Hair looks great, face too- though a little tired from college over-studying and then driving 4 hours home with no break.

You might as well write ‘whore’ on your mirror with lipstick. Or a marker- since that’s a more permanent reminder with the way you’re acting. But part of you wanted to know what he thought of you- how he perceived you. For now though, it doesn’t matter. Had barely been 15 minutes since you arrived. You turn your attention to your suitcase and push it over flat, unzipping it before the teeth give out and some of your things spill from inside.

You had less than a sufficient amount of energy to care about it being broken now- so you just put your things away quickly before plopping onto the bed and indulging your senses with the smell of the floral detergent your mom always used on your sheets.

—

It’s some time later when you’re abruptly awoken by your moms manicured hand shaking you awake by the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be spending time with your father. He was excited for you to be home.”

‘Way to wake me up.’ You thought. She was always having a stick up her ass about this kind of thing. Or anything, really..

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, we’re going out tomorrow to do a bunch of stuff.” You argue sleepily, sitting up as your back aches with your vision still adjusting. She cuts on the lamp, sizzling your retinas.

Her face perks up but is pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, okay..” silence.

“I’m sorry, honey. It was just a long day at work and I’m just over-the-moon for you two to finally have some daddy-daughter time.”

You wrinkle your face in disgust, but not fully disgust since you were just fawning over your hot dad earlier. Maybe daddy doesn’t sound so bad.

“Ew- mom. He’s just my dad. I’m not five.” She laughs, waving her hand off at you.

“Well anyhow- come down for dinner, will you? He put in a lot of effort to cook something for us.”

You cursed under your breath and straighten out your shirt- hoping she wouldn’t bitch about it being slightly wrinkled from you sleeping in it. You seat yourself at the table- adjacent from your mother sitting at the end. She’s already changed out of her office clothes and sure enough, here comes your daddy dad from the kitchen with utensils.

“Sorry ladies- almost forgot these.” He laughs, placing down everyone’s set before seating himself next to you. Fuck.

“You know- your father has only been home a few months and he’s already shown the extent of his memory loss.” She jokes, giving him a loving yet teasing look that makes you want to vomit. And yet jealousy curls up like a cat in your lap, wanting to be lavished with attention from you. The metaphorical jealousy pounces off your lap as you’re met with your dad’s hand on your denim-clad thigh. It’s an innocent gesture but you want to his hand to go further than just sitting politely.

“She’s right, but I can be useful otherwise.” He’s bantering back with her- and you realize he’s making an innuendo when you look over at his face. But it’s weird that he’s saying it while his digits cradle your thigh so gently.

“Gross.” You take a bite of your food- momentarily shocked that a dad of any sort could make such a pleasant meal, especially when he’s spent such little time doing domestic duties.

“Oh honey- you’re grown. We’re just teasing each other.” Your mom nods to Leon, taking a bite off of her fork. His hand slides off of your thigh and he grabs his whiskey glass to take a proper sip.

Jeez, he drinks that shit like its water. No grimacing. No face was made when he swallowed it. Just a guy thing you suppose.

Dinner drags on- the both of them forcing you to talk about your less-than-thrilling college experience. No mom, no boyfriend. No dad, I’m not failing. No you two, I’m not having unprotected sex- fuck off.

After that eventful meal and conversation where your parents basically eye-fucked each other over dinner, you’re left to clean up the mess while your mom gets ready for bed. She has to leave for work early in the morning- as usual. Guess she’s going to take your dad’s spot for the absent parent now that you’re grown and traumatized full and proper.

-

Sleep came and went- leaving you to trudge out of bed and do your morning routine. It felt out of place trying to do it back at home- but it was also a sentimental feeling to be doing just that.

Leon is already in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking. Seems impractical, but holy fuck. You’d gorilla glue your eyelids open just to not miss a single second of what you’re seeing. Maybe that wasn’t needed- because you've been staring long enough that your eyes prick with tears. You remind yourself to blink and you seat yourself at the high-top, the stool swiveling slightly when your bottom meets the material.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His traps are distracting you. You want to chew your fingernails past the nail bed- bite a finger off too. You can’t stand it. For a moment- the way he talks to you- you’re pretending you’re not his daughter. And then a moment later, you’re not being delusional anymore.

“Mhm.” You mumble sleepily- wishing you’d have stayed in bed longer. But piercing morning light, lack of blackout curtains, and the chirping of birds outside made that idea inconceivable. Leon chuckled to himself- turned away from you.

You decide to scroll through your phone for a moment’s time before he slides a plate to you from across the island.

“Breakfast a la Leon.” He says- clearly being silly. Corny as fuck, anyways.

“You’re old.” You snort, setting aside your phone and grabbing a fork to pick at your food until he turns away again. You didn’t enjoy the idea of having a hot, shirtless man watching you eat.

He shakes his head, sitting down next to you at the island.

Christ. Fucking go away. It’s actually enraging now.

You want to scream at him- it’s irrational and crazy- but you do. Screaming at him and being sent away to a ward sounds more appealing than the anxiety crawling up your spine like a horde of fire ants. Potentially- just like the butterflies- they’re real too.

He seems undisturbed as he settles- taking a bite. You do the same- trying to ignore the fact he's so close you can nearly feel his arm hair touching you every second or so. He breaks the silence after a moment.

“So- after this, I’ve got a whole day planned out. Mall, movies, and dinner. Sound good?” You nod, a soft ‘mhm’ reverberating on the roof of your mouth.

He finishes before you and makes his way upstairs- the occasional pain in his back unmistakeable every few steps. And yet he wants to take you to the mall to walk around? You didn’t even know how to feel about a day with your dad. What’s a dad? What’s daddy-daughter bonding? That’s lost to you- well- more like it was never even discovered. Not even Columbus could have ventured out and conquered it.

Since he’s no longer in the room, you hastily eat the rest of your breakfast before you discard the plate and fork into the way-too-elaborate dishwasher your mom had installed (you totally didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to turn it on).

Back in your room, you settle on a simple, totally not underlyingly slutty outfit. Shorts and a crop top. Can never go wrong with that. It’s just soft/core prom enough for an outing with your dad. When you leave your room- Leon is just headed down the stairs. He turns to look at you, his smile is as jovial as it has been since you’ve seen him. For a moment though, you think you catch his eyes landing on your exposed legs- but you know you’re just crazy. You’re the one lusting after him, not the other way around. Your dad isn’t abnormal like you. His head is on correctly- even if it’s been battered and spun on his shoulders throughout the years.

“Ready?” He asks, stopping in place to wait for you. You nod stupidly, breaking from your trance to follow him in a descent down the stairs.

He’s dressed similar to how he was yesterday- jeans and a t-shirt that should be considered indecent. If you were your mom, you’d beg him to wear something that doesn’t highlight every curve and dip of his chest. Hell, if you were your mom, you’d never let him go outside. Too risky. But you’re not your mom. You’re just unusual.

As a perfect man does, he opens the door for you. Then opens the SUV door, allowing you in before shutting it behind. You’re sure you've never met a guy that does that in real life, but maybe it was a ‘you’ problem and not the guy. Who knows.

When he gets in, he cranks the vehicle only for rock music to start playing from the radio- making the corners of his mouth dimple with a pleased look. Really are the simple things for him. As for you, you’re suffocated in a Hellish torment by both his presence and the expensive scent of cologne and leather seats combo.

The ride isn’t long, nor bad. Albeit you two only talk here and there so he can focus on the road- and so you can focus on not dying (he’s not a perfect driver, but not terrible either). Just enough to keep your nerves teetering between a light anxiety attack and full blown panic.

You’re relieved to get there alive. Maybe not. Your thoughts have you thinking suicide may be your only option for now disgusting they are. And it only gets worse when he helps you down from the step up of the SUV- a hand on your exposed waist and the other on your shoulder. It’s harmless. Just a dad being gentlemanly. He was shaped and carved out in that perfect, chivalrous image with only a mallet and hammer. No reason to make it weird.

Inside the mall is a tad busy- the perfect amount to be comforting. You feel a bit more at ease in a public setting since you can now focus on anything but your dad’s chest. As long as he doesn’t require eye contact or talk to you, that is.

He looks around, arms crossed. It’s almost whorish. He has to know his arms look good. Or that his everything looks good. The fuck.

“So…” He cranes his head to the side, bangs brushing over his nose for a moment. The way he looks around makes his Adam’s apple and neck muscles a little more prominent. A perfect, stubbled spot to attack with your lips.

“What do you feel like doing first, kiddo?”

You. Is what you want to say.

He looks back to you, smiling down amused. He seems genuinely happy to be able to take you out. But really- his face is making you nauseous. Obviously not because it’s bad. But because it’s good-bad. Too good it’s bad.

“Uhh… “ you look away from him, scanning the entrance area and looking at any signs. Almost like an escape.

“How about new clothes maybe? Seems like something got ahold to the other half of your pants anyways.” He nudges you with an elbow, gesturing to your shorts with his head.

So he probably did look at your legs earlier. Maybe not in the way you think, though.

You glare at him.

“Seriously?”

Leon puts his hands up in defense. He’s always on the defense in life anyways.

“Joking, joking. You’re…grown.” His forehead lines crease when he raises his brows. You did get rather annoyed at his comment, however.

“I could always buy some even shorter.” You spit sarcastically.

“Yes- because every father wants to walk around with their daughter who has her ass out.” He’s quick to remark, this time he seems grumpier when he talks. Sorta like he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. Or that he’s mad.

“Sorry my legs make you so uncomfortable. I guess I should’ve left them at home.” The back and forth here could go on forever between you two but he catches you off guard.

“Shit- no. It’s not that- ‘s just you’ve got nice legs. Can’t have these…shitheads eying down my little girl. I may be old, but I can fight when I need to.”

You know he meant his words innocently enough, but the fact that he said nice legs has you giddy inside. Same feeling when your crush calls you pretty. Yeah- that sorta feeling. And his little girl. It has a ring to it. Could even legally change your name to it so that he can call you by it more often. Maybe he’ll even let you jump on his dick right away.

Your face is pure rose-shaded. A perfect, neutral shade to make your embarrassment pop on your skin. You’re sure it’s visible to him, too. Your mom always teased you about how blotchy it would get when you were humiliated. Particularly when she would tell awkward stories about you at family dinners. Bitch.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be pissed at me, sweetheart. I was just teasin-“

“It’s not that.” You interrupt- heart thumping into your rib cage. If it doesn’t stop, or you don’t stop your word-vomit, it might crack a rib or four. Probably more. Better have hospital bill and therapy money ready, dad.

“Then what’s the matter? I just want us to have a good time together. I’m not trying to upset y-“

“You said I have nice legs.” You’re quick to cut him off again.

“And…?” He trails off, cocking his head to the side like he’s confused. Because he is confused. You stare off to the side- eyes glued to the fountain. Maybe you could go drown yourself in the penny-flavored water that you guarantee hasn’t been changed out since you were still the unlucky sperm in your dad’s ball-sack.

“I like that. You saying that.” You speak a little lower now- afraid someone will hear. Or because the tinnitus is so loud in your ears. What you’re getting at is almost clear now. Or at least clear enough.

Leon’s expression is taken aback but still confused to an extent because he’s not even certain what you’re saying. Though, he has an idea.

“Oh- uh. Okay. Sweethea-“

“Holy fuck- stop calling me that. You’re not making this easy. Wanting to fuck you. I know- I sound mental.” You spill it out, guts on the floor and the sword still in hand. Holy shit. Just told your dad you want to fuck him. You could have backtracked- fucking dumbass. You won’t be shocked if he packs his bags and leaves off again tomorrow.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Okay- clearly I wasn’t around enough. I get that. But I mean- fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around. Probably thinking the same thing about the fountain that you did. Still- he looked hot while having a crisis and contemplating immediate suicide. He paces while your nerves are being electrocuted in your body. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Just- sweetheart, no. None of that’s.. I can’t.” He starts, turning back to you. It seems he can look you in the eyes now. So maybe he’s not entirely disgusted by you. His face isn’t contorted with disgust, so there’s a chance. Yeah, you’re off your rocker now. You know.

“Look- let’s not talk about this. C’mon. Let’s go catch a movie like I promised.” He starts walking- leaving you standing in a puddle of shame and embarrassment for a moment before stopping to let you catch up.

Luckily- the theater is joined to the mall. It’ll be a short walk.

—

Leon is lax on the couch until he hears the crunchy sound of tires on concrete. You’re home. Despite his shitty back, he's huffing as he gets up fast and is already opening the door. The air is hot as it greets his skin and he watches you struggle with your suitcase through the heat-haze that spans over the distance.

He calls out to you- making your head snap in his direction. Your face is that of awe and confusion. You don’t seem to immediately recognize him- okay. He gets it. It’s been a while. Nevertheless, you’re beautiful. He’d seen pictures of you from your mother, but he’s in awe just as you are. Though, he doesn’t think that highly of himself so he often wonders if you’re even his kid. Couldn’t have made something that perfect, in his mind. He helps you with your bag and follows you to your room. But your demeanor around him is noticeably mousey. At first, it doesn't seem like much. You’re just getting used to him.

Plus, Leon knows he can come off intimidating. Sometimes. But for him, he’s got a good eye and his job has led him to being able to read even the tiniest bits of body language. Doesn’t take him long to see how you’re worming around shyly- subconsciously smoothing your hair down and biting at your lip. Same way your mom acted around him before they started dating. But again- maybe it’s just in his head. Leon’s been wrong a time or two.

A better man would have left it alone. Leon gets that. But an innocent thigh squeeze at dinner can help him test his theory. A thigh squeeze that’s under the guise of friendly, fatherly touch. You tense- he can hear your small, sucked in breaths as long as his hand is there, along with heat radiating off your body like a wildfire. If wildfires could be horny college-aged daughters with daddy issues, that is.

The idea disgusts him. Because he should feel disgusted and just kill himself. Where did these thoughts come from? He even has the urge to let his hand wander other places. Bets that you have a cute pussy. No matter what it does or doesn’t look like, it’s yours and he knows it's cute. He’d give you two thick digits in your hole (three if you allow him) and have his tongue kitten-lick your clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” Is what he envisions saying before diving back in for a mouth full of you. Girls like you love being praised. Especially by their estranged father-figure or a middle aged man. It’s all the same. He’d pry the daddy issues right out of you with his dick. It’s long and fat enough, and solves all of his matters properly. Your mom is in a bad mood? His dick will fix that. He can’t sleep? His dick will fix that. His daughter is a horny freak and begging for it? His dick will fix that, too- obviously.

It’s only when your mom makes some stupid fucking joke about his memory loss that he snaps back into reality and he loses the momentum he had going for an erection. Which is good. Maybe thinking about fucking your mom will make him normal again. So he drops a quip right back- something about… being useful. Yeah. Again, his cock is useful. Your mom bites at his words, but you’re annoyed and disgusted with his comment- especially with his hand on you while he says it.

Trust me, baby. Much rather be splitting you open than having performative, mandatory spousal sex. It’s like a switch flipped. He’s not interested in your mom. Should’ve had that realization years ago, even. Technically he did. He’s just now saying it in his head finally. Mostly he was exhausted because she had nothing to do with Leon even when he was home (unless it was for dick). Too bad he was a golden retriever following after her every step like a good doggy. Marriage did that to a guy. He just did what he was supposed to. Kept the lights on, blew out her back occasionally, listened to her complain, and took care of the lawn when he could. Easy enough. That’s what men do, right? He doesn’t really know what being a man is, honestly. Thanks, Major Krauser. Anyhow- he chokes down his food with a smile. The need to upchuck after everything he just thought up is a given.

He takes the liberty to fuck your mom later that night as promised per (faux) flirting over dinner. He has her face down-ass up, though. For… imagination’s sake. At least fucking a pussy and imagining you is better than his hand and imagining you. Or so he tells himself. Call it killing two birds with one stone, satisfying your mom and quelling his own desires. And it’s not hard to imagine any of it, because you look so much like your mother. He lies awake for a short while after- contemplating his existence and fucked up thoughts. He’s still holding back vomit and the urge to grab his gun from the nightstand and off himself all over the wallpaper, while in the process, traumatizing your mom. After an hour of this- he figures it’s fine, men think of perverted or weird shit sometimes. Jerk off to weird shit too. He hasn’t technically done anything morally wrong… sort of. It’s denial. At least he’s good at playing the part of a genuine, loving father. Because he is! He loves his family. Always has!

Spending time with you would make you happy, him happy, your mom happy. He loves you dearly. All is great. He’s swearing that his brain won’t be smoothied in his skull by tomorrow. It’ll be normal and function rationally.

But Leon wakes up with the thoughts being real as ever while he stretches an arm out to feel around for your mother- bed empty since she leaves at the ass crack of dawn. Leon had just missed her leave, he’s still getting used to sleeping in ever since he retired.

He gets up and heads downstairs- immediately starting breakfast to take his mind off his…mind. Breakfast is his favorite meal of the day, it makes him feel better to indulge in it right now. Though, he doesn’t bother putting a shirt on at any point- just rocking those generic, green and blue tartan patterned pajama pants. Cooking shirtless is weird- but he’s hungry and part of him wonders if he’ll get to see your priceless face when you walk into the kitchen. He shakes his head- telling himself that he just had this talk with himself last night. None of that shit.

He was right about one thing. God, he could make a killing in betting. He sees your reflection behind him in the small window above the counter but you didn’t know that. Just stood, gawking. It’s okay. He’s observative, you’re not. You’re his dumb little girl. Dumb in the way you shift in your stool next to him when he sits down, dumb how you hold your breath when he’s near, dumb how you can’t even eat next to him, and dumb how your thighs seem to wriggle when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushes yours. Oh, he’s definitely not wrong.

Still- he knows when to back off. He hounds down his food, before you even make a dent in your plate, and heads upstairs to shower. He’s analyzing every detail of himself, contemplating how he can get under your skin the most- his knuckles gripping the sink with distaste for himself. Because it’s wrong. He’s acting like a teenager. This is a date with his daughter, not his highschool girlfriend.

Leon skips over shaving his face. Likes to keep it a little grown out but not too much so. Just in case he gets the chance to eat (your) pussy or kiss (your) a neck. Then comes the Dior ‘Sauvage’ body wash he never failed to keep with him. He takes pride in smelling good if anything. And this particularly expensive wash, plus the cologne, was his lifeline for that. When he traveled for work- the D.S.O. better have god damned had some sent to his room as courtesy. Ever since Raccoon City- he’s adamant about not smelling less than great. He swears he can still smell the sewer on himself sometimes, even if it’s not really there.

His hair routine was even more extensive and involved a weekly hair mask. Hey- it wasn’t wrong for a guy to have nice hair. It paid off.

Heat protectant, blow dry, hot-comb to get any cow licks or fly-aways he might have- though it’s unlikely- and a little spritz of biotin spray to keep it healthy and shiny. All of that in reasonable time, too. And no- it's not weird for him to spend longer on his hair than your mom does.

Besides, you seem to appreciate the way he looks when you come out of your bedroom- watching him descend the stairs. Leon looks back at you- eyes on your legs momentarily then coming back up. He knows it was a quick look- quick enough to make you question it. You do. Very much. Still, taking you out in public wearing those shorts is less than ideal for him, but he’s the one who needs to be watched closely. Aforementioned, Leon’s great at pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending to not have ulterior motives. Pretending to not want your legs on his shoulders as he-

“All ready?” He interrupts himself here. Can’t let his thoughts keep going too far. Even if he does want to rest a hand on your leg while he drives. Or veer off the road and into a tree so that he can’t continue to be disgusting. He’d die with the image of being a good, wholesome dad in everyone’s mind. And if you did or didn’t die too, at least you would have died not having been fucked silly by your old man. He manages to not kill you both, though. He wasn’t planning to- his driving is just ass. He knows whiskey with his breakfast isn’t ideal but when you’re a recovering alcoholic plus post traumatic stressed failure of a father, it helps.

Can’t complain though since he gets to put his hands on you while helping you out of the vehicle.

Now you’re both in the mall- Leon questioning what exactly he’s supposed to do now. He hasn’t been to one since… he doesn’t have enough fingers for that. But you’re seemingly calm. Until he makes a stupid joke about your shorts. Sure. As much as he’s thinking about ripping a hole in the crotch to fuck you cause he’s impatient and stupid- he said it out of genuine concern.

He still has fatherly instinct. Some sick bastard could get a glimpse of your exposed legs and go jerk off to it or take a photo. Ironic coming from him right now. The call is coming from inside the house but the dad is too busy fiending after his own daughter to answer.

You’re royally pissed. He knows it. Women don’t like having it insinuated that they’re dressed like a whore. Big whoop, though. Someone has to say it. Then you blindside him. Big, needy eyes and saying you like it when he tells you your legs are nice. Then something about how you want to fuck him. Christ. What the fuck. He’s not sure if this is some kind of screwy set-up or you’re actually just so slutty that the only dick you’ll accept is your dad’s. He’s rocking a semi now. Would be a full hard-on if he weren’t in public but his head spins cause all the blood went to his loins too fast.

Leon doesn’t accept the advances yet. Not now, anyways. He’s mortified. He really thought he had himself going in delusion about how you were behaving- but he was actually right. And now being confronted with it… he’s fucking scared - that’s for sure. Hmm. Be a morally acceptable human or fuck your needy, whore daughter silly? He shakes his head and lets out an exhale.

That question needs some thought. No, it doesn’t. He knows better than to do any of that shit, right? He takes a moment to start walking while you follow along shamefully- the two of you headed to the theater. A movie is perfect. Don’t have to talk or anything. No interacting, really. But how the fuck is he just going to forget what you said? Sure, he’s been having questionable thoughts but they’re just thoughts. Your words, however, spoke it into existence. Like a fucked up, frankenstein’s monster of father-daughter reality.

Don’t mind us, everyone. Daughter’s got it real bad for me but I’m just going to take her to the movies and pretend it’s normal. Reality was distorted for him ever since the existence of zombies and BOWs anyway.

He lets you pick the movie- telling the attendant that he needs two tickets. It’s a horror movie. Of course. Something to trigger his PTSD, maybe. Then he could say anything he did after that was just accidental. A mental slip. He goes to fork over the $60 for tickets and popcorn- god, when did shit get so expensive? As he’s pulling out the cash, he sees you give him a look like you want to say something. His mind is racing looking at you- it makes him nervous.

“Uh.. what about candy?” You ask, looking away from him and at the display.

“What? Sour worms?” He questions you, laughing. Not in a mean way- but because it’s your favorite. So insignificant but he remembers. You were still a kid when he and your mom took you to see some milked out children’s movie that was a part of an entirely too long series. He bought you two boxes of sour worms then. You were a weird kid, though. The worms were split into two colors, and you’d always bite them down the middle and make him eat the side you didn’t like. But he’d do it. Gladly.

You nod, a little befuddled that he’d remember something like that. Cute. Too bad your weird ass just told him you wanted to fuck him about 15 minutes ago. So not entirely a cute moment.

“Oh- and two boxes of Sour Worms, please.” He adds, now pulling out a little more cash.

You both respectively grab your own drinks- Leon with popcorn in tow and you, your worms and cherry soda. His hands are full but he manages to flash the movie ticket between his index and middle finger to the usher, who then ripped it in half and pointed to the left end of the hallway.

You both don’t say anything, but you immediately race to the very top row like a child once inside the screening. Leon swears under his breath as he follows you like a geriatric snail. If a snail could have lumbar issues. He’s able to make it up the stairs to you quite some time after and takes the seat next to you that’s closest to the aisle. Safety and all that jazz.

Previews are already playing so it gives him peace of mind to not address the awkwardness between the two of you. Your soda is in the cup holder that’s separating you both, but you lean over to take a sip, cheeks hollowed out while you drink. Of course Leon looks over, fuck.

Pretty little lips wrapped around the straw until you pull off of it with a satisfied sigh. Cause you were thirsty from anxiety- like someone shoved gauze and cotton into your mouth.

He shifts in his seat and looks back at the screen. He doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not, however. He’s just a perverted dickhead.

Time passes and not a single soul has come into this screening. It’s Monday at 11am, after all. Who the hell would come watch a horror movie at this time? No one except two fucking weirdos. It’s making Leon’s nails dig into the armrest with the other set scratching at his jeans.

The movie doesn’t start off bad, to Leon’s shock. He’s actually enjoying it and you seem just as entranced, pulling open the box of Sour Worms without looking down. You do wind up looking down, however, to bite one in half because it just so happened to be a blue and orange combo, and you hated the orange side.

“Here.” Leon turns to look at you- your eyes coming up to meet his blue ones that are oddly blue enough to the point that any light from the screen makes them pop. Pretty.

“The orange half. I know you don’t like them.” His voice is husky and low since the speakers are blaring some generic string-quartet horror piece. He nods down to the half chewed candy in your palm.

You pinch it between your fingers, bringing it to his mouth as your cunt throbs. He was expecting you to hand it to him, but the way you confidentially yet instinctively brought it to his lips isn’t entirely unwelcome. The emptiness of the theater makes it that way. Allows room for incest of whatever. He opens his mouth for you, and you go to place the sour treat on his tongue. His lips gently close around it, before he grabs your wrist to hold your arm in place. A hold gentle enough to tell you that if you want to snatch your hand away- feel free to do so. But you don’t. And you won’t. He knows.

Candy in cheek, he brings your fingers to his lips and nurses your knuckles with a kiss before puppeteering your hand with his larger one, working each digit so that he can equally suck each one clean. You’re amazed, aroused, and alarmed all at the same time. Amazed because he looks so gorgeous sucking on your fingers. Aroused for the obvious reason. Alarmed because duh, he’s your father and things can only go further from here.

Leon places your hand back onto the arm rest between you, chewing the halved sour worm now. As if he didn’t just give you the most visually appealing form of sexual affection in the history of womankind. The dryness of your mouth returns and you take another sip of your Cherry soda. Maybe you can drown yourself in it. No, stupid. That’s what the public bathroom toilets are for.

Right before you set the plastic cup into the cupholder again, Leon speaks.

“Ah, ah. Put it over there.” You don’t even hesitate to listen. Record timing for you doing anything. You don’t even know why you followed his instructions so quick.

“Good girl.” His words send lightning of excitement down your nerves and straight to your clit as he pushes the armrest between you upwards and out of the way. Because that’s a thing, for some reason. It’s like theaters want people to fuck, give head, and spread their diseases everywhere. And why does he know they move? You don’t even want to question it. Maybe he’s just a knowledgeable guy.

“Come here, honey. Let daddy kiss that pretty mouth.” Fucking Christ. This can’t be real. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause again, there’s zero hesitation on your part. Leon likes that. A woman that can follow orders. He’s so used to taking them, not giving them. And your mom isn’t one to listen to other people. Either way, if this goes south, Leon can always just off himself. He wasn’t around much so what difference would it make if he was permanently gone? The reassurance of being able to log out forever gives him courage here. It’s rational.

You scoot over since you’re free from any barriers or restrictions, and he puts an arm over you. You swear you almost hear your skin sizzle from the contact. You’re not a witch- and as far as you know, he’s not water. Even if he gets you wet. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and swipe a thumb over your bottom lip- teasing you.

“D-dad.” You stutter a protest- cringing that you sounded the way you did just now. Maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed ‘cause he’s your dad- but you are embarrassed ‘cause he’s hot. You can’t even figure out why you wanna back out suddenly. Probably because the idea was better than betraying your mom and knowing yourself as someone who fucks their dad. Anywho- didn’t he say something about kissing you? Cause he’s not even doing as promised.

Your dad leans in, his free hand is now on your neck and angling it just to show you how easy he can manhandle your body. He plants a kiss on your earlobe before saying anything.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t go giving daddy blue-balls now. It’s not polite to start things you don’t wanna finish.”

Leon’s words simultaneously gross you out and turn you on in a self-deprecating, disgusting kind of way. Not to mention he’s literally contradicting himself since he would gladly eat the half of the sour worms you didn’t want to finish- therefore entirely enabling you to start things you couldn’t finish. Hm. That must explain a large portion of your life, then. And besides all do that, doesn’t the know blue-balls is some kinda stupid myth or whatever?

His thumb falls down your lip and traces your jawline with intentional slowness while his eyes look over your face appreciatively- but it also seems as if he’s looking for or at something specific.

You get the courage to speak, air sucked fully into your lungs.

“Sorry, daddy.” The fuck is wrong with you? You could have said anything but that. It’ll only spur him on. But you want that, obviously.

He smirks, lips pressed together as the corners of his mouth do that same, pitted thing they do that you like so much. Must go hand in hand with how his chin is also dimpled. It’s sexy. But little do you know, it’s one of the reasons he keeps his stubble. Doesn’t feel like having his butt chin on display to the world- even if every woman that’s ever laid eye on him sees it and wants it buried in their cunt.

“That’s my girl. Didn’t even have to be around much to teach you that, did I?” Leon queries, grabbing your chin to crane your head just so that he can plant his lips onto your neck. His other hand is on your knee, unmoving. You want it to move, though. God- you’re sure whatever higher power is in the great sky is throwing up right now, moments away from pressing the reset button. The same higher power will make a new rule on humanity.

No free will and absolutely no incest. Yeah. Probably should have written that into the books ages ago, one fears.

You fidget as he kisses your neck, stubble scratching your epidermis yet tickling all the same.

“Not gonna answer me, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your throat, the neck kiss he gives it uses a bit of tongue- making your body jolt. “I know your mother taught you manners.”’

You mumble something pathetically apologetic, hands gripping the fabric over his shoulders. Hopefully your mom won’t notice his shirt being stretched out there- cause she notices everything.

“N-no, daddy. I knew it on my own.” You huff, that hand you wanted him to move is slowly doing so- fingers dragging along your inner thigh as if everything he’s doing to you is purposefully meant to be some kind of forewarning. But for what, exactly?

“Such a smart girl. Get that from daddy, you know it?” Ok, cocky…

Leon kisses his way back up your neck, jawbone, and then your cheek. It’s sweet- if being lavished with saccharine, sexual and inappropriate attention from your dad could be sweet.

You nod, feeling his grip loosen from your chin and now sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair, threading it. He’s slow and deliberate- part of you wishes he’d not give you time to think about your actions. Not that you can really think anyways. Your heartbeat is muddled in your ears and the movie is still rumbling through the speakers while someone gets murdered on screen. Lucky them.

The hand on your thigh presses firmer into the skin just below the edge of your shorts, a silent telling for you to keep your attention on him.

“Sorry baby, daddy got distracted. Just so pretty.” He must be able to tell you’re impatient because he kisses your cheek (with an oddly dark undertone to it) before slimming the distance between your lips. He pauses right when they touch and you’re breathing in the taste-turned-scent of the sour worm you fed him earlier. Sugar and that weird orange flavor that is only specific to orange candy. You’re obviously not a fan, but it suits him.

You don’t get any time left to process before it’s a full on kiss- well, make out, actually. It’s slow. You can’t recall being kissed like this, ever. Normally it’s straight to tongue with guys, and not in, like, the good way. The ‘having an eel invading your oral cavity’ kind of way. Eugh.

But your dad’s tongue does brush yours, tastefully. You can actually feel the texture and it’s easy to tell there’s an erection fueling his actions- but not so much so that it takes over the whole kiss.

He uses your hair to pull you closer, teeth clashing momentarily. Not exactly the best feeling but everything else envelops your senses to the point that it’s only a flash of a moment. Your thigh is neglected by his touch, hand moving up and around onto your backside. He gives a squeeze to the fat of your ass and groans against your mouth before pulling you into his lap- legs folded on either side of his thighs.

You break the kiss, looking over your shoulder and to where the entrance is- the exit sign casting a nearby glow that gives you anxiety..

“Can’t- we’ll get caught.” You pant, that weird feeling that’s the grotesque love child of nervousness and excitement is swimming in your gut like a parasite before settling. The severity and realness of the situation sinks in.

Leon laughs low and mean, retracting his hand from your hair and moving to run it through the top of your scalp to push it back. He juts his hips upwards to prod his denimed erection into the cunt of your shorts. You mewl quietly, or maybe it was loud. The movie is just too deafening to distinguish which.

“Suppose you’re right, baby.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, leaning in to give you a light peck on the lips. “Told you you’re a smart girl, didn’t I? Can’t let me go around thinking with my dick, huh?”

His hand pats your thigh as if to tell you to get off.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Up.” He commands you with a huffed voice- not because he’s annoyed but because he’s a middle-aged man. Moving is hard. You ignominiously climb off of his lap, putting your bottom back onto the seat next to him. He’s looking at you, meandering a hand back onto your thigh just to rest in place.

You stare at the screen- but you can’t even register it because you’re too disassociated from what just happened. You almost want to beg him to fuck you right here- plead for forgiveness that you suggested stopping in the first place. And you can still taste that damned orange sour worm in your mouth.

Leon behaves, though. He’s good about that. Respectful. In the way of consent- not in the way of not tongue fucking his daughter in a public space. When the movie ends, he gestures for you to stand and you walk past him, carrying your empty cup and boxes of sour worms while the uncomfortable feeling of your slick clinging the gusset of your panties to your cunt. You look back at your father, the sight of him in the palely lit theater is a bit intimidating. He’s adjusting his pants for obvious reasons. You look away quickly and keep walking- a giddy feeling of satisfaction overcoming you. Shortly enough, you’re both back in the main area of the mall. You brush your shirt out and fix your hair- the thought occurs to you that maybe you look a little mussed and should have straightened up sooner.

But the daylight beaming through the sky roof brings you back to your senses.

“Hmm. What does my sweet girl want to get up to now?” Leon asks, intersecting his arms as he looks over you.

You think, mind fizzling as it short circuits. You almost smell smoke emanating from your head, too. How can you look him in the face right now?

“Uhh..” You really don’t know what to say. What can you focus on doing after everything that’s happened today?

“How about this? We can go home a little early and I’ll cook something up for lunch. The drive will give us time to work up an appetite.” He says, nonchalant. Right back to his same fatherly tone from earlier today instead of the ‘I want to split you open with my dick’ tone he had moments ago. Maybe he’s just being sweet and you’re overthinking.

You’re befuddled that he’s not saying anything else about… that. How can he so easily go from publicly groping you to acting cheery and normal? It’s frustrating. Disturbing even. Leon can see the disappointment on your face- but you don’t know that. You assume it’s well hidden, just like the fact you kissed your own father. He thinks it’s cute though. You’re just cock dumb for him. On the other hand, this whole situation is something he has to deal with.

“Got it.” You manage to say, walking a little faster than he does. This is the second time you’ve walked off from your dad, and it does irritate him because he can’t keep up like he used to. Displaced disc in his spine or whatever. Plus, he thinks you’re pissed. Which is worrying. Should have known better than to mess around with his own daughter, he supposes.

The drive back is silent and less terrifying than the previous, part of you thankful. Maybe he was only a bad driver in the morning. Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe it was the fact that he drank whiskey with his breakfast. Hm. ‘Responsible’ in hindsight.

It’s still early in the afternoon when you arrive back home. The concrete is sizzling from the heat and the sun beats down way too uncomfortably for even a walk from the driveway to the front door.

Leon side-steps you to unlock the house before he urges you in. He may be morally reprehensible but he still didn’t want to let any cool air out- AC’s expensive. You plop down on the couch and he locks the door, walking past you and straight to the kitchen.

The tension is thick for you- but for Leon- not at all. You watch him disappear through the doorway as he goes to prep food. Why is it so hard to read his emotions? He’s like a fucking light switch. You’re annoyed- leaning back on the couch, until he calls for you. You’re quick to get up, scrambling into the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart. Mind giving me a hand?”

“Yeah. What is it?” You faintly cock your head to the side.

Leon looks to the side- directly at you. You’re cute when you’re confused. He can tell that all you’re thinking about is continuing where you two left off earlier. Shit, you’re no better than your mother. ‘S just that you’re not crabby and sour all the time like she is.

“Can you grab the saucepan from the bottom cabinet. Your old dad can’t exactly bend over too well.” He laughs- shaking his head. Yes, dad. I get it. I know you have a bad back.

You walk over to the cabinet where he’s leaned onto one hand which is rested on the marbled countertop. You feel a bit apprehensive to be close to him again. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not jump his bones, but Leon’s already ahead of you. As soon as you bend over, he pulls you back by the hips so that your ass is flush with his groin.

You’re taken aback but definitely not surprised. He’s a dirty old man, as you’ve learned.

“Gonna let daddy fuck this pussy now, or are you getting flaky on me?” He coos against your ear while he runs his hands up your sides and down again- creeping his hands to your front and over the buttons of your shorts- unhooking them through the slits.

“Yes.. want it.” You breathe in quick- the word coming out on its own. If god could hear you right now, he’d set your house ablaze with lightning.

“Need you to loosen up if I’m going to. You’re way too stiff.” Your shorts are the opposite of you, loose and unfastened fully so they fall to your ankles, and Leon nudges your feet apart with his boot. You realize he’s got a point as you feel his calloused hand glide down your hip and yank you in place. The other hand is spreading your pussy lips apart before finding that fleshy bud between them. A moan rumbles in your throat as your legs almost give out below you. He mutters a curse under his breath, and you realize his cock is now out while he rubs up against your ass- getting off on not only playing with your pussy but from dry humping you.

“Fucking christ. Got the prettiest ass, baby. Think daddy needs to see it bouncing on his cock.” You can practically feel that stupid, smug look as he grabs his dick- slapping it on your ass. It makes you cringe a little, but maybe you should be cringing at the fact your dad is the one doing it. You figure it’s just something he saw in porn, so it doesn’t leave your expectations high at the moment. Great. Leon adjusted himself back into his pants, for now.

His finger continues circling that bundle of nerves, your legs shaky as you’re being pressed into the counter, a hand is on your lower back to keep you down so he can do what he wants. You sound stupid- tears welling in your eyes as you babble nonsensically about wanting to cum. He moves his hand off of your back and sinks to his knees to be face level with you (even if it makes his back hurt a little), sliding his fingers up your inner thigh until there’s a digit prodding your hole, slowly pushing in.

He watches your cunt swallow his finger, barely able to fit it inside.

“Fucking shit, baby. Gonna have to stretch this pussy out if I want my cock in you, huh? Think you can let daddy do that?” He asks, breathy and sounding like he’s trying not to bust all over himself.

You eagerly shake your head.

“Yes, daddy. Need you to get me loose.” The words spill like a hot cup of tea from your lips, scalding Leon with desire.

“God damned. Such a polite fucking girl I’ve got. Might have to eat your mother out later to thank her for making you so respectful.”

You scrunch your face in disgust.

“That’s fucking gross.” You moan, Leon slipping a second finger into you, which should technically feel like four with how worn and big his hands are.

He tuts, planting a kiss to your asscheek.

“Now, didn’t daddy just compliment you? Could be a bit more grateful since he’s trying to make you cum” He grits, sounding a bit (terrifyingly) stern.

You apologize again.

“Sorry, daddy. Just don’t wanna hear about you and mom. Makes me jealous.” You admit, briefly thinking about their dinner conversation last night. Then about how fucking weird you are. You’re really hoping you get the courage to bash your head on the marble countertop and get amnesia.

Leon laughs, but in a way that makes you think he’s amused more than actually laughing.

“God. Want me to stop fucking my own wife just ‘cause you’ve got a needy pussy?” A third finger slips in, making an almost unbearable stretch as you feel a slight ache, but the previous two fingers already did enough work that it’s not completely unbearable.

“Maybe you’re not that grateful. Giving you three fingers here and she’s still too tight.” He twists his hand, letting the inside of you feel every inch of his knuckles and calluses. Your knuckles, however, are ghost-white as you grip at nothing.

“Maybe your fingers are just too small.” You say- mostly from built up tension and annoyance that you didn’t get to let out yet. But you regret the words.

He’s silent- which scares you. He pulls his fingers out of you- the stark contrast in emptiness is clear and the cool air stings you.

Leon groans as he stands up, kicking off his boots before yanking you by the arms to stand straight. He leans into your ear.

“C’mon. You’re gonna come sit on daddy’s dick, since you’re too fucking picky.” Goosebumps form all over you as he leads you to the couch. Leon leaves you standing there so he can get comfortable and discard his clothing, lying back with his hands behind his head. You make a mental note of how his biceps look with his arms bent in this position, even if you kinda feel like it’s lazy. But holy fuck, his toned stomach is perfect- sprinkled with a happy trail that will definitely lead you somewhere that will make you happy. Speaking of, his dick is nice. Fat. Not sure how big it is since you have not much to compare to, but you’d imagine taking it would be a bit of a proper challenge.

You step a little closer- crawling awkwardly over his lap- ass faced towards him so that you settle on his waist. It’s hard not to feel self conscious about your backside in this position, even considering the fact that he was just fingering you from the back moments ago. You’re mostly just upset you can’t gawk at his tits or stomach.

You grab him by the base, shifting yourself to hover directly over him, letting the tip graze your wet hole before slowly sinking down- a drawn out moan escaping you.

“Fuckkk. That’s it. Sit down on it. Take all of daddy.” You glance over your shoulder as you bottom him out; his eyes are half-lidded. Well, at least he’s got a pretty face while you’re fucking him. You almost failed to realize his hands moved from behind his head to your ass- gliding up your back and down again.

You take a moment to adjust, breathing shakily ‘cause his dick is so fat you think you might die. Or maybe you’re having a heart attack at your ripe age.

“Didn’t tell you to take any breaks, did I baby?” You’re annoyed at his pushiness, but you did have a bit of a sour attitude earlier. So you can only blame yourself.

You’re not sure how to entirely do this, but you move yourself up and down. Not at a fast pace, yet. Just that savoring your dad’s dick seems like a reasonable ordeal.

He doesn’t shut up, though. You’re learning just how much he likes to talk- as if he just wants to hear himself. Is he even getting off on you or the sound of his own voice? It makes you roll your eyes even if you do like hearing him say dirty shit.

"That’s my girl. So fucking good. Ride it nice and slow... Work that sweet pussy on daddy's cock.” You just might fall over dead hearing him say any of it- it’s disgusting but sweet Jesus are you eating it up. He must know it too because of how you clench around him involuntarily when he talks like that.

“You like when daddy praises you? Yeah, you love me telling you how good you are.” His words are husky and yet pleased with the previous tidbit of information.

“See how nice I am? Letting you sit on my cock after you made me wait earlier. Wasn’t very nice of you, now was it, baby?” His words have an underlyingly mocking tone, but you’d do anything to make him change it.

“No, daddy. Was really mean of me.” You whine pitifully, bouncing yourself on his dick like it’s your major in college and you’re trying to pass with flying colors.

“I know, baby. But daddy forgives you.” He murmurs, sitting up with you still on top of him. He’s flush against your back now- reaching in front of you to make those same tight circles on your clit. You both exchange your pitchy moans and his grunting and groaning- working up to a good point in both of your impending orgasms.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, got it? Daddy doesn’t like to pull out.”

You scramble a bit, squirming on his lap.

“Fuck, dad! You can’t do that!” You whine as his other arm holds you onto him- wrapped around your stomach. Your nails dig into his forearms, hopefully not leaving noticeable scratches.

“I think I can, baby. You’re squeezing me at the idea- I’m not fucking stupid.” He’s quick to be mean again, but you’d be a liar to say you’d don’t want him to cum in you. And you’re not a liar, that’s just deplorable- coming from someone who is literally fucking their dad with enough energy to power a small village for a month. And yet, you don’t stop riding him.

And your silence tells it all.

“Yeah- my baby wants a nice creampie.” He sounds more strained now, letting go of his hold on your stomach and using his hand to now guide you to roll your hips on him.

Sweat beads down Leon’s forehead, bangs sticking to his face as he watches your ass grinding against his lap.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna cream this tight fucking pussy. Want that, don’t you? ‘Cause daddy’s gonna give it to you whether you want it or not.”

You should be a little more upset or concerned in any regard right now, but the last two days have made you into a proper whore to the point that you don’t even give a shit. Self respect crawled itself into a space shuttle and launched off of the planet, probably to never be seen again. Stuck in orbit, if you will.

You’re sucked out of the motions when Leon speaks again.

“Stop, stop.” He pats your bottom.

“Turn around, baby. I wanna see your face. Wanna kiss those lips while you’re on my dick.” Your stomach flutters with nervousness and a sickly sweet feeling. You lifted yourself from him with a trail of arousal to follow and maneuvered to turn around- this time he was holding his cock ready for you. Moments went by of you staring, getting a proper look of him since everything had been a quick blur so far.

“Come on, baby. Need you to mount daddy’s cock again. Told you I wanted to kiss you, didn’t I?” He exhaled, sounding a bit pent up. Jeez- seconds without pussy and he’s getting upset. Maybe he needs a therapist and anger management, not his college-aged daughter spearing herself on him.

You replied, yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you wait, daddy.

You dropped yourself down onto him once more- only this time it was easier since you were able to get accustomed to his dick.

“Start moving sweetheart, make daddy cum.” He instructed, leaning in to take you in a kiss. It was more dirty than the last kiss, somehow. His tongue slipped between your lips- Leon lifted you with his hands on your waist before jutting his hips up to slam his cock snugly into your heat, groaning against your mouth delightfully.

His teeth nipped your lower lip- giving you a little further taste of just what kind of lover he is. Or maybe this is just the version you get. Either way, you can’t complain in any area. You feel lucky to receive even a sliver of it.

The familiar roughness of his thumb returns to your already throbbing bud- circling at the same pace he’s now moving at. Despite his age, he seems awfully enthusiastic to do strenuous work involving his hips. Bad back, my ass. Or maybe he’s able to put that on the back burner to please you. Probably worried if he doesn’t give you good dick then you’ll go tattle on him.

Leon didn’t break the kiss whatsoever while he pounded into you ruthlessly, he swallowed up every moan and noise you made like it was alcohol. ‘Cause that was his favorite, obviously.

When he pulled his mouth off of yours, a trail of saliva lingered- stretching out while you giggled on top of him. Something about you laughing almost made him nut immediately, but he held out just to prolong this and let it engrain into his mind for certain.

“Got the prettiest baby- look so good on my cock like this. Want daddy to bust in that pretty pussy?” He asked, looking for your approval.

“Uh-huh. Need daddy to knock me up.” The words came from god knows where, making even your eyes look bewildered for a second.

Leon laughed darkly at you.

“God, baby. Daddy’s so fucking close.” He muttered stupidly, almost like he was drunk. At least this could be an ego boost for you- but the fact it was your dad canceled that out. Dick only counts if it’s from someone that’s not related to you. His eyes did that half-lidded thing from earlier that you found so hot, and he pulled you down onto his cock one last time, spilling thick ropes into your blood-related hole. His dick pulsed as he let out a muted grunt, head lolling back and his adam's apple on full, stubbly display. You could bite it, just like a real apple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned. Jeez. He was a whore, honestly. The way he made noises and didn’t shut the fuck up was honestly… a case that should be studied. Maybe he had been turned out a time or two himself.

His cock didn’t soften though, nor did he not forget about you cumming. He lifted his head back up, looking down at where his thumb was. It was almost like he read your thoughts, not saying a word as he concentrated on making you cum. ‘Cause earlier he had been too eager to get in you and you were too eager to get on him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders (hopefully your mom wouldn’t notice any marks on him when she gets home from work later) and he gently fucked into you while you received proper attention on your aching clit. The combination of his dick keeping you full and the sensation of his digit sent you throbbing through your orgasm around him- low curses and other disgusting things coming out of both your mouths.

‘Cause you’re both disgusting.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 3

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Another thankless day of serving cold cuts and cheese to the general public as you ready to tear your hair out. You don’t see how anyone could make such a fuss about a trip to the deli but the locals have a way of exacerbating any simplicity. You’re just happy to be free. 

The bus is late. You stand at the curb and bounce on your heels. You just want to lay down. The lack of sleep is starting to split your skull. 

You yawn and watch a truck blow by. It’s a sleepy old town, nestled between farmland and stretches of dirty roads. The sort of backwoods you don’t drive through after dark. It’s so dull you could fall asleep on your feet. 

A sudden gust of air rips through the sky and the unusual whirlwind circles you. You look up through slitted eyes as dirty speckles across your face. You furrow your brow as lights and flames glow as a red figure lands in front of you.

The electric blue haze goes out and your faced with the suit of crimson and gold. You grip your purse strap and gulp. You haven’t checked your phone yet. You couldn’t have predicted this. 

“Shit.” You mutter. 

His helmet snaps back and he smirks. The silver streaks in his dark hair puff out and he smooths them down. He puts his hand on his hip and scoffs, “name’s Tony Stark, thanks.” 

You cringe and cross your arms. “We met.” 

“Yeah, I remember you. Nearly forgot before everything blew up. You know, this thing...” he pauses to take his phone out. “Hasn’t shut up all fucking day. I got lawyers down my throat--” 

“Your phone is blowing up? My house blew up.” You sneer. 

“Okay, relax. It was a trailer. I said I’d replace it--” 

“Then do it.” 

“Ooh, spicy. I didn’t guess you to be the type but after seeing your little online storytelling, I shoulda guessed.” 

“It’s the truth. That’s it.” You turn to watch for the bus. You’re aware of the few people slowing to stare at the man in his techno-suit. 

“I mean, a little gratitude here, honey. I’m more than happy to slap a new box in the lot but you don’t gotta be this way about it.” He derides. You look at him from the corner of your eyes and scowl. “At least a smile. Bet you’re gorgeous when you smile.” 

He winks and you flinch. Really? 

“Fine. Once we have a new trailer, I’ll delete the post. Sounds pretty fair to me.” 

“Now. Take it down now and then we can go shopping for a new train car,” he chirps. 

You frown and face him. “It’s just a post.” 

“I got a reputation, sweetheart. I’m important that way. I know you might not be able to fathom that but one busted up hellhole is nothing compared to what I do for this planet. Didn’t you see me on the TV, handing out lollipops to hurricane survivors? What are you doing besides whine on the internet?” He stares you down, his expression turning sinister as his grin fades. 

“If it’s not a big deal, then it shouldn’t take much, should it?” You challenge. 

“Wow, you sure are mouthy, aren’t you?” 

“I’m tired.” You peer down the street again. “I worked a full shift and my feet hurt. You wouldn’t know about that, would you? With your penthouse and your dad’s money.” 

“I earned my company.” He snarls. “You watch where you’re stepping, sweetheart. I’m being nice. I flew all the way back to this ditch, so let’s not play dirty.” 

Your heart races. You don’t know why you’ve said so much. Maybe because you’ve worn a customer service smile all day and you’re all out of fucks to give?

And what do you have left to lose? A family that treats you like a gnat flying around their heads and a musty old futon. Your life wasn’t great before but damn if he didn’t make it a whole lot worse. 

“You do whatever. You’re Tony Stark. Iron Man.” Your tone is deflated and monotone. “I can’t do anything about it, can I? Just whine on the internet?” 

You step further down the sidewalk and stare at the approaching headlights. The bus is finally there. Even if he really means to replace the dusty old shithole, you don’t need his self-aggrandized kindness. Not if this is how it’s delivered. 

You pull out your bus fare as you sway beneath the sign. A sharp noise tweaks your ear and you’re seized in a metal vice. Your arms are trapped against your sides as Tony zooms up into the sky, the air whipping around your face as you holler in horror. 

“What-- are—you—doing?” You shriek as you wriggle, kicking into the empty void around you. 

“Sweetheart,” his voice rises from behind his helmet. “You’re gonna wanna be still. If I drop you, you’re gonna hit the ground like a bug on a windshield.” 

“What the fuck?” You exclaim and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“Just givin’ you a lift home. Like a nice guy would do.” He chuckles. “Now don’t breathe too heavy up here. At this altitude... well...” 

You put your head down, shielding it against the shoulder plate of his suit, and you bend your arms to cling to him. You have no other choice but to hold on for dear life.

You get his point. Tony Stark is more than money. He can do whatever the hell he wants. 

[two-white-butterflies]

she's poison | m33

Description: Your relationship is leaked to the public. No one believes that you're dating Max.

Pairing: max verstappen/it-girl!reader

There was only one reason that a woman would fall in love willingly - and it was because the man was enchanting. The first time that you met him - he ignored everything that you did. He ignored your existence - because there was no fucking way that a goddess like you would choose to come down to earth and be with him.

He held his head high - holding his ego close to his chest. He'd be perfectly content in going back to his apartment, knowing that he blowed off the chance of a lifetime. He figured that you'd fade - and be one of the girls that he could've loved.

He'd be happy with your memory, but Lando had to open his mouth: "No damn way that Max is bagging that hottie." his friend muttered in his thick British accent. The entire table erupted into drunken laughter - and he could feel his ego shatter into a million pieces.

Without another word - he sashays towards you. Smiling with those innocent eyes of his. "Hey, I couldn't help but see that you're alone. Do you have friends here?" Max asked with a smile, trying to keep the conversation long enough for his friends to realize that you were 'somewhat' interested.

You turned to look at him - shock flooding through your features. He wasn't like the guys that you spoke to - nothing like Earl Westfort or that Taiwanese tycoon that your parents force you to tolerate. Shit, this man who you've known for only 3 seconds was a breath of fresh air. He was the calm after a storm.

"Sadly, I'm alone - my friends ditched me." you chuckled, dancing along to the tune of the music. "Do you want to get out of here?" he offered - unable to hear you clearly because of the noise.

And you couldn't believe it - because you agreed.

That was the beginning of your love story - the guy who was shooting his shot, and the girl who let him.

glitterparty23: privacy sign on the door 🔒

1283 comments 1,348,345 likes

bentashakers: that's literally liam hemsworth 😭 - lovingitcoma: No, it's obviously Chris Evans

BELONGmeee34: Chris Evans and Y/N L/N??? WTF

celebrityupdates: Y/N L/N, Chris Evans and Margot Robbie on the movie premiere of 'The Last Days of Santa Elena'

392 comments 24,283 likes

chrisandyn2: They think that they're slick for this 😭

uwuwu123: NO PICS OF THEM TOGETHER??

ilovemetoo9: this is so foul

comments

lestappenduo: is that max verstappen?? 😀

glitterparty23: omg !! - keithurban: Sorry?

ynandchris: We've been saying Y/N and Chris but it's actually Max and Y/N hahahahahahahahahahah

landonricciardo: MAX AND Y/N?

maxverstappen1: Winning on and off the tracks 💪🏽🧡

239 comments 243,345 likes

lestappenduo: max's normal posts: 🤬💪🏽🏅 max when it's yn: 🤤🧡

glitterparty23: 💗

[myysaints]

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ LN4 ꒱ JUST MY LUCK ─ LANDO NORRIS

LANDO NORRIS x f!reader

⌗︙・ summary — in which lando starts flirting with a (not-so-)random girl on the internet.

genre — social media au, fc hannah kae

notes — kinda disappointing finish to yesterday's gp :( but to make up for that here's something simple & cute !!! churned this one out in one day bc by god i love that little frog man with my whole heart. tbh this is just a shameless self insert ..... also rewrote history a tad bit by making lando finish on the podium at monaco because why not LOL hope u enjoyyyy xx

lando.jpg

Liked by bambiyn, pierregasly, danielricciardo, and 1,724,882 others

lando.jpg  Monaco, I’m ready for ya.

view all 884,281 comments

bambiyn  and i’m ready for u !!!!!!!

bambiyn  talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular…

bambiyn  why am i sweating rn

bambiyn  goddamn

bambiyn  my fav driver everyone !!!!!!

bambiyn  my dms (and legs) r open btw 😁😁

       Liked by lando.jpg yourbestfriend  Y/N OH MY GOD…. THERE ARE CHILDREN ON THIS APP… bambiyn  …ok… and? user  yo wtf lando liked????

danielricciardo  Lando I love you but not as much as that girl in the comments

bambiyn  ok i feel called out danielricciardo  Oh, hey there! bambiyn HIIII!!!!!

bambiyn added to their story!

Seen by landonorris, yourbestfriend, danielricciardo, and 72,001 others

bambiyn

Liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, and 34,129 others

bambiyn  yeah ok so monaco’s kinda cool

view all 2,914 comments

user  marry me

user  didn’t know angels existed until i saw you 😩

user  mother is in monaco!!!!

yourbestfriend  “kinda cool” … says the girl who freaked out literally every 5 steps we took because “oh my god look at that car”

bambiyn  the cars here are sick okay idk what u want from me !

landonorris  only kinda?

bambiyn  maybe if u finish on the podium on sunday… then it’d be cooler user  LMFAOOOOO y/n never misses

landonorris  But welcome to Monaco 🙃

bambiyn  thank uuuuu!!! user  girlie hit him with the five u’s GET UP Y/N

bambiyn added to their story!

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landonorris reacted with ❤️

f1wagupdates

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f1wagupdates  Submitted by Anon ❤️ Looks like things are heating up in Monaco for Lando Norris! He was spotted last night on a dinner date with a mystery woman. A source close to the McLaren driver tells us that he is “very very content” in his new relationship, and is “excited to take on this weekend with her by his side”. As for who Lando’s secret lover is, we have it on good authority that, though she is a public figure, she is nowhere near her beau’s status of fame. Follow for more updates on all things wag-related 🏎

view all 1,584 comments

user  arms…. hand placement…. RAHGRFGAHFRH

user  god i wish that were me 😩

user  someone check up on bambiyn… ik shes heartbroken rn

bambiyn  my world is literally collapsing as i type this

bambiyn  damn 💔

bambiyn  so that’s how it be then 😭😭

yourbestfriend  heartbreak. betrayal.

bambiyn  like damn i really thought i was the one 😔 user  LMFAOOO girl ur hilarious

bambiyn added to their story!

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www.youtube.com/Formula1

POST-RACE INTERVIEW WITH LANDO NORRIS | MONACO GRAND PRIX 2023

bambiyn

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🏷  landonorris, lando.jpg

bambiyn  thanks people magazine for finally letting me post my man. happy 5 months to my prince charming!! ♡ ૮꒰•༝  •。꒱ა xx

view all 1,138,004 comments

landonorris  Best 5 months of my life

landonorris  You make my heart hurt silly

landonorris  my forever girl

danielricciardo  You’re too good for him Y/N!!!

bambiyn  ikr… user  get off your high horse smh youre nothing special he’ll dump u in a week landonorris  Yk I can read your comments right? Don’t be a fucking prick in my girl’s comment section. user  “my girl’s comment section” im gonna go feral

user  hey god it’s me again…

georgerussell63   Great meeting you Y/N! You two make a great couple 👍

landonorris  Mate what is with you and typing like youre 50 years old

landonorris

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🏷  bambiyn

landonorris   5 marvellous months with the missus ❤️ To my sweetheart, I love you dummy. I love you and your weird little keyboard face things. i love the little hop you do whenever you see something you like. The way you always smell like cotton candy and clouds and vanilla and cookies. How you laugh at all my jokes even when theyre kinda shit. The fact you still don’t know how to drive stick shift (drives me crazy but anyways). Thank you for being mine baby, here’s to a million more 5 months with you 🥂

view all 2,475,900 comments

danielricciardo   aww thanks babe

landonorris  💀💀 danielricciardo  But on a serious note, I’m so happy for you guys. You got a good thing going bro 👊 landonorris  Sure do mate

bambiyn  a million kisses for u when u get home (´꒳`)♡

landonorris  eagerly looking forward landonorris  (❤ω❤) landonorris  Did i do it right bambiyn  YESSSS !!!! proud of u baby hehe ur so cute landonorris  >:)

user  we still don’t know what that crazy night was abt lol

bambiyn  omg yeah thank u for reminding me !

bambiyn added to their story!

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landonorris reacted with 😳

BONUS:

You have [1] unread message.

[4:21 PM] vroom vroom baby: I saw your recent insta story.... 😉😉

[4:22 PM] dummy ❤️: mmhmmmmm

[4:22 PM] dummy ❤️: and what about it…?

[4:24 PM] vroom vroom baby: nothing it was

[4:24 PM] vroom vroom baby: It was perfect

[4:25 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just…

[4:25 PM] dummy ❤️: justttt?

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just that I was thinking

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: Maybe

[4:27 PM] vroom vroom baby: If u wanted ofc

[4:28 PM] vroom vroom baby: We could

[4:28 PM] vroom vroom baby: Maybe

[4:29 PM] vroom vroom baby: recreate it…

[4:29 PM] vroom vroom baby: ?

[4:31 PM] dummy ❤️: is this ur way of asking me to come over

[4:25 PM] dummy ❤️: 🥺

[4:31 PM] vroom vroom baby: no….

[4:33 PM] vroom vroom baby: ok yes

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: i’ll be over in 5 !!!

[4:33 PM] vroom vroom baby: See you soon gorgeous

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: tsch

[4:36 PM] dummy ❤️: you spoil me

[4:38 PM] vroom vroom baby: Just speaking the facts 💯

© myysaints

[sugoi-writes]

KNY HCs - A Surprise Kiss! Part 2

Prompt: You give them a kiss unexpectedly; how do they react, when they like you back?

A/N- Next part is here!!! Sorry i struggled to get this part out. This part includes Genya, Nezuko, Obanai, Mitsuri, Gyomei, Tengen, and Muichiro. Let me know if you guys would be interested in a part featuring demons (especially Upper Moons and whatnot). Anyways, this was really fun! Please enjoy! 💗💗💗

Content warning: some implied steaminess for some of the Hashira, and spoilers for the newest season (Sword Village). Proceed with caution if you haven't watched/read ahead! 💀💗💀

Genya

He has a hard time around people who are typically femme, but it literally wouldn't matter who or what you were: because you're still his type.

The second you get within 5 ft, he's blushing. The second you touch, his veins are gonna burst in his skull. The second that touch becomes a kiss...

Genya.exe has stopped working.

He is absolutely stunned into silence. He makes no move to continue the kiss or move away. But you seem to be able to tell that he didn't mind it. Not ONE bit.

You would take his hand, apologize for being too forward, and probably make yourself scarce around him. You figure this would be best if you really did overwhelm him.

It would take quite a few days, but similar to Sanemi, he confronts you head on. Whether it's grabbing you by your haori, or slamming his arms on either side of your head... Hes got you trapped. Even though his face is still BEET red...

"I-I don't understand yet... wh-why you'd do that to a guy like me... but..." He would hesitate for a moment, before planting a kiss on your cheek.

" But... I'll try... to become a guy worthy of your kiss."

Even if you try and reassure him, or persuade him into thinking he's a million bucks, he will go over the moon to impress you, protect you, etc. He wants to be better than what you want him to be: he wants to be your equal.

And while it certainly takes him a while to loosen up, his kisses are some of the sweetest and most sincere. He would try to hold your face, every time. He would never truly want to let you go of you and your warm cheeks.

Nezuko

"Hmmm...~ Hmm-hmmm-- mmm?"

Nezuko, who is humming and fixing her hair, is surprised when you kiss her. She'd blink a few times, her cheeks glistening with a rosy blush. She still struggles with most words, but smiles warmly to you.

"Th...tha...! Thank... you... Y/...N-san!"

You practically scream with delight. This would be the first time you heard her say your name!!!

Like many humans, Nezuko is very protective of you. But you find that she hovers around you a little more recentky, similar to how she treats Tanjiro. Almost as if you're a guide, interpreter, or just a person she can confide in, she'll often reach out to be near you. Whether it's holding your pinky with hers, tugging on your haori, or even grabbing your hand, she likes to stay in close proximity, especially if she can make physical connection with you somehow.

She sometimes struggles (mentally) with being close to you, especially in fear that her fangs may injure you, but her kisses are short and sincere. Similar to Shinobu, she would kiss you most anywhere but your lips publically... but every once in a while, you're blessed with direct kisses.

"T...thank goodness... Y-You like me too... Y/N-san...!

Obanai

Eyes narrowed with steely focus, he would be absorbed in his work, or freshly sheathing his sword. You roughly grasp him by the collar, forcing him to finally look your way.

"What is it you're doi--mmphm?!"

When do you finally get him to shut up? ONLY when you're kissing him. Even with a kiss over his bandages, Obanai flushes vividly, pushing you away. He turns away, checking his bandages hastily.

"NEVER surprise me like that!! You're lucky I didn't have a chance to react properly...!" You were about to apologize, when you see his shoulders relax," hah.... the bandages didn't move, after all..." The relief that floods his voice almost makes you want to cry. You were trying not to pity him, knowing he had his reasons to hide his face. But you wish he didn't feel the desire to keep those bandages on... or better yet, the shame he felt when they came off.

You place a hand on his shoulder, making him tense up.

"Obanai... next time I kiss you... if you're okay with it, i... I wouldn't mind it if it were without your bandages on."

That statement alone has him wide eyed, staring at you with disbelief," I... I don't..." For once, his stoic expression and tone is replaced with one of unease and uncertainty.

"I... I don't know if I'm ready for... that..." he would admit quietly," But... I appreciate the sentiment. I truly do."

You'd smile up/down to him, and place a kiss on his cheek instead," Whenever you're ready. I could wait a thousand years, if you'd have me..." Obanai squints at you, bluntly replying," We'd both be dead by then..."

You smile, winking," Then in the next life, maybe?"

Obanai would flush quietly as you'd walk away, reaching up to gently press the spot you last kissed him at,"... I see... maybe so, Y/N-san... Maybe so...."

BLESS you, if you ever do kiss him without his bandages on. Though his scars may have surprised you at first, it doesn't affect how sweet or chaste his kisses are. And once you receive them in earnest, they never stop... 

Oh, and the over protectiveness with you? Multiply it by 20. People aren't allowed to breathe the same air you do unless he allows it. And your missions, from henceforth, are either accompanied with or monitored by himself or Mitsuri. Almost NO exceptions.

Mitsuri

"Y/N! Y/N! Look here, look here!!" Surely, Kanroji has something absolutely adorable to show you. You turn to her quickly, pushing your hair back out of your face.

"What is it, Kanroj--"

The both of you turned too quickly, causing your lips to meet in the middle. Immediately, the two of you pull away from the other. Mitsuri whines, bowing her head rapidly.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry!!! I-I didn't mean to!!"

You have to grasp Mitsuri by her shoulders, before she listens to you again," Kanroji-san!!! It's okay, I promise!!! W-We're friends, after all... accidents happen."

Mitsuri's expression changes slightly, her lip quivering," R-Right... friends..."

You go back to your task at hand, not picking up on her disheartened cue. You notice her squirming beside you after a few moments, making you concerned.

"Mitsuri? Are you ok--"

Your lips meet again. This time... on purpose. Mitsuri clasps your cheeks with both hands, planting a fat kiss on your lips, before pulling away.

"Th-There!!! That one wasn't an accident!!! And that's going to be the first of many... I-- I--! Aaaahh, I don't want to just be friends, Y/Nnnnnn!!! Not anymore!!!" Mitsuri basically wails, making you smile sweetly.

You lean over again to kiss her, soothing her mild tantrum if only for a moment," I dont think I want to be 'just friends' either, Mitsuri... so we're partners now. Okay?"

Mitsuri would nod rapidly, mentally swearing herself to you, for protection and for marriage," Deal!!!!"

She's already planning your wedding. She hints at what kind of ceremony she prefers, or flowers she'd like to have in her decore... little does she know, you've already been saving up for something big... maybe her birthday could double as your wedding day?

But for now, that's wishful thinking. For now, you're quite alright with sneaking quick, heated kisses before major missions, and cuddling your tired, full partner after she gorges on her favorite food.

Neither of you mind. But the both of you know that you're actively working towards a future where there's more to your relationship than sweet kisses and embraces.

Gyomei

In a deep, meditative state, Gyomei sat practically motionless as you quietly approached him. Due to this, he hadn't heard you or your sweet giggles are you inched closer. You had always been his number one, secret admirer... and seeing him so content and serene made you want to kiss him. He just looked so beautiful, dangit!

Even with him sat before you, Gyomei was MUCH larger than you... but no matter!

Nimbly, you were able to wiggle closer, admiring the calm breathing of the Stone Pillar. It wasn't until you brushed your lips against his that his eyes instinctively fluttered open. As if from a deep slumber, Gyomei blinks a few times, dazed," Oh... I'm sorry, is this... Y/N?"

You nod and hum, knowing he knew your voice all too well," Guilty as charged~" Gyomei's eyes watered as he heard a genuine, airy laugh leave you, his hands folding neatly into his lap.

"Ahh... so the pining wasn't one sided, after all...," Gyomei sighs, as if relieved. You blink and audibly swallow, your face heating up.

"I-I guess not, Gyomei-san," you reply in surprise, reaching your hand down to brush a stray tear from his cheek. Had you known he had liked you back, you would have kissed him MUCH sooner...

Gyomei smiles brilliantly, tilting his head up as if to look at you,"... if that is the case, my friend... if you don't mind, I'd like you to join me by my side."

You have to calm yourself down as he pats the space beside him. You take him up his request, sitting and scooting closer until your knee bumped his. You feel a large, warm arm wrap around you, pulling you closer until your head was against his chest. Your face burned as Gyomei chuckled.

"...thank you for taking the initiative, Y/N-san. I admire your forwardness. I just wish I could have made that first kiss more..."

"Special?" You finished, Gyomei nodding back quietly.

"W-Well, that's okay-- I already feel like kissing you, on its own, is very special. But..." You sit up, before crawling into his lap. Gyomei would tense up, flushing as a coy grin makes it way to your face.

"I think we can make the next kiss particularly special... if you'll have me."

Gyomei couldnt reply verbally, as the impulse to kiss you tenderly overshadowed the flowery words and praise he wanted to give you.

His kisses were many, and they would be mostly reserved for your cheeks and temples. But most of all, your kisses would be an assured way to make his heart race. Due to his blindness, kisses feel electrifying to him. Making your kisses together all the more special and intimate for him. He loves you to bits, and would never pass up on a chance to engage with you, especially through touches and those sweet, featherlight kisses. Even if others may be close by...~

Tengen

Little to anyone's surprise, Tengen is a HUGE flirt. It didn't matter if it was a stranger or his bestie Rengoku: he would relentlessly do and say things that would tetter on raunchy or sappy. This, however, was something you were used to. And at times, you'd welcome it.

Tengen, many times, had made jokes about you becoming his fourth spouse. Quote him: "Afterall, who said polygamy had a 4 person limit~?"

You'd normally roll your eyes, and playfully shove him, not knowing what his other spouses thought of you. But after getting to know him more, and even being over to his estate a few times, the jokes felt more... sincere. As if he were wanting to propose more properly.

So finally, after a particularly rough Hashira meeting, Tengen would look at you again, with a serene look in his eyes," ...Y'know, Y/N... if you ever considered settling down more properly, or commitment in general... I think you'd make a really good spouse. The others think so, too." He would grin, nudging you playfully," Theres always room for one more, yknow~ "

And, after a few quiet moments, you hadn't yet replied. No shoving, no tickling, just... a heavy sigh. Tengen starts to worry he offended you... until you pull him down/up for a kiss.

Tengen, being the good man he is, immediately leans into it, eyes closing on their own. When you finally decide to part for air, you're absolutely beaming.

"Well, while I can't accept your 'proposal' without the others consent... I wouldn't mind being courted. Normally, yknow..." Tengen looks practically speechless, as your arms snake around to hang on his neck.

" How about we start slow... maybe dinner at your place, next time we meet? Im sure the 5 of us have a lot to talk about before we take it too far..."

Tengen, surprised that his forwardness may have actually paid off, smiles tenderly. He pulls away from you, only to take one of your hands. He guides it to his lips and kisses you knuckles, running his thumb in circles along your warm skin.

"Suma, Hina, Makio, and I... we'd be honored, Y/N. Let's shoot for next weekend, then."

Muichiro

"Huh...? What did you want to see me about, again?" Mui would probe, following behind you.

"I-I just wanted to go somewhere more private, to tell you something." You'd reply evenly, a steady blush spreading across your face.

"Is that so... lead the way then, Y... ahh, sorry, Y/N-san." You roll your eyes. Surely he hadn't forgotten your name so easily. Maybe he was teasing you?

As you finally get to a more private area, you turn towards him, face heated," Muichiro... I have to say it."

The mist hashira would look to you, eyes widening," Ahh... did I forget something again...? Sorry... I still struggle... even now, i guess," he would admit, making your knitted brows soften.

"N-No... you didn't forget anything... but..." You lean forward, trying to kiss him on the cheek, before he recoils quickly. You blink in surprise, face twisting in regret. Oh shit... so you were rejected huh... You can't muster any words as he looks at you, bewildered.

"...were you trying to kiss me?"

You were flustered, assuming your hunch was correct, but you nod shamefully. Then, Muichiro pulls you in by your wrist, placing a soft kiss to your lips. You gasp, taken by surprise even as Muichiro lets you go.

"...sorry... I feel like I would be able to treasure your kiss better... if I initiated it. I hope that's alright with you."

The both of you are perfectly flush now, but you smile warmly back to him, pulling him in for a hug," Well, if you ever forget... I can always kiss you again?" Muichiro would have an idea, leaning his head on your shoulder," Mmm... I think I'm in need of a reminder."

[secretly-dum]

Joel Miller Headcanons

(please read warning/contents before reading)

pairing: joel miller x reader

request: none

summary: nothing, just some ‘regular’ headcanons

warning/contents: romantic SFW and NSFW hcs (part 1?)

additional notes: here you guys go <3 I’m so sorry for being demotivated but fortunately not enough to not do this!! Thank you all for being patient with me <3

«──────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

In a relationship with Joel (SFW):

-Would be so possessive around you in public, his hands would HAVE to be somewhere on you, to having your hand hold his to having his shoulder touching his.

-He’s soft in private, this man is TIRED of life and just wants you to be his cuddle buddy.

-Talking about cuddles, he LOVES to cuddle, especially when it’s cold and he needs to “warm up”(an excuse to sleep with you)

-But of course since this is Joel we are talking about, he acts ignorant and pretends that he doesn’t like cuddling(mostly because he doesn’t like showing his soft side to you, so reassure him that you won’t make fun of him for that)

-One time he needed to “warm up” so he slept beside you not touching you at all and when you woke up his leg was over yours and his arm was wrapped around you(he also refused that it was himself doing this and said that he ‘moves’ in his sleep).

-His love language is definitely words of affirmation and physical touch.

-He is SO deprived of both, if you even show an inch of both his heart literally just melts.

-PLEASE play with his hair, seeing his face hide his cute smile is so heartwarming.

-Uses so many pet names to refer to you, you can’t even count anymore, and some of them don’t even make sense(he called you ‘honeysuckle’ once).

-Will do anything in his way to protect, heal, and love you. This one guy is bothering you? All of a sudden he’s gone. You have a horrible wound? He’s stocked up with medicine immediately. You like figurines/toys? Will kill anyone and anything to get you a single figure/toy.

-Is more of a listener than a talker, he loves listening to you talk about your day and interests.

-Goes to you or Ellie every time he has free time, you guys are LITERALLY his world.

-Forces himself to understand confusing concepts of your interests if it means interacting with you.

-Hates it when you’re sad since he’s really not the best comforter, doesn’t know what exactly to do when you cry so he just holds you while you cry into him, it somehow works making you feel better every time.

-Goes to you and tests out his 4 dad jokes before telling them to Ellie, you always have to hold in your giggle when he’s trying to tell the jokes to Ellie.

-You and Ellie’s needs are in front of his, he could be on the brink of death but still do anything in his way to make sure you both are healthy and safe.

-Secretly thinks of you as Ellie’s parent, and sometimes makes up cute scenarios that make you all three look like a small family in his head (this hc makes me sob)

-At the start of the relationship he was hesitant to showing/expressing his feelings, but now since boundaries are set and he’s more comfortable, he will always tell you whether or not he’s feeling negative.

-Watches you as you sleep but not in a creepy way, he always have thoughts that make him think you’ll die in your sleep so he’ll stay up an extra few minutes to make sure your safe. He loves how comfortable and dreamy you look.

-If you make something for him, whether it be a joke or not, he’ll always keep it on him. You gave him a nut and made some stupid joke? It’s on top of his dresser with other things you and Ellie have gave him.

-Definitely gives you something back, if you keep it and he sees it somewhere he smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

«──────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

In a relationship with Joel (NSFW):

-I don’t care what ANYONE says this man is a switch who prefers to be a bottom.

-Despite him being strong physically and emotionally, he’s always so vulnerable and obedient to you.

-Won’t do any slapping, choking, and hitting to you unless you ask/tell him to, but nevertheless he will lightly hit you, feels weird to hit his lover.

-Will be quiet if you guys are in a slightly unsafe area, but will scream your name if you guys are in either his or your home.

-Did I mention how he won’t slap, choke, or hit you unless you ask? You can do all three to him and he’ll still say thank you (one time you asked him why he won’t do the same hitting to you and he said “It’s not the same” 😭)

-Whimpers and whines like a bitch, it’s incredibly pornographic and I’m wondering to this day who taught him to make such angelic noises.

-Begs and obeys, can’t be brat unless you catch him on a real bad day or he just wants a punishment from you.

-Doesn’t do any risky stuff like getting you pregnant or hurt but will gladly let you fuck him in a spot that could get you guys caught.

-If he’s being dominant, he will be a soft dominant, Joel once said “he loves you too much to be doing such ‘harsh’ things to you” (unless you ask him to!)

-Pussy AND cock drunk, he’s addicted to you and your pussy/dick. Would be licking/sucking you for hours if he could (bisexual!joel is real).

-Overstimulation kink, which goes for both ways if you want. He loves it when he says he can’t take it anymore and you say he can.

-Your touch lingering over his body has him so turned on, the anticipation of how you’ll touch him turns him on so bad.

-Loves it when you mark him, bites, hickeys and etc. If you mark him on somewhere visible, he’ll show it off like a trophy.

-Likes bondage, seeing you all tied up and the curves of your body being more visible to him has him in a chokehold.

-He tells you that you taste so sweet and good, even if you haven’t showered that day(let’s be honest barely anyone showers in TLOU anymore)

-For some weird reason, seeing you sweat or have someone else’s blood on you turns him on a lot. Something about seeing you like that makes him want to fuck you right then and there.

«──────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

i’m so happy seeing you back here😭😭 and since request are now open, can i maybe request reader going home early just to find boyfriend! jeno and best friend!jaemin jerking of each other but thinking abt you (moaning your name)

Déjà Vu (무대로; 舞代路)

pairing: lee jeno x na jaemin (x reader? (she/her pronouns))

au/genre: smut, established relationship (between jeno and reader), best friend!jaemin, sub!jeno, dom!jaemin

word count: 1665 words

warnings: god where do it start? mxm content, highkey cheating, bro-talk, alcohol consumption and sexual activities under the influence, sexualization of reader (this is not really respecting women of nomin..), jealousy kink...?, hand jobs, pet names (literally. "puppy".), mentions of: blowjobs, anal, public sex, facials and just reader's body in general, dirty talk, degradation (of reader who is not present), getting caught, this is very unserious. let me know if i missed something.

a/n: you ask and you shall receive. i hope this is kind of what you were looking for? i assumed jaemin is jeno's best friend, i hope that's what you meant <3 um.. yeah. i hope you enjoy? i apologize for any mistakes, this was written in my notes app. also, i'm kind of proud of the title.

You're standing in the doorframe – flabbergasted. Just half an hour prior, you'd been thrilled beyond belief that your ass of a boss offered to let you go home early today (of course only because he knows you know that this way he can guilt-trip you to stay longer another time). On the way home, you kept smiling, sang along to the music blasting from the radio until you pulled into the driveway of Jeno's house. You'd texted your boyfriend earlier about your early release, not receiving a reply but also not expecting one. To be fair, Jeno is a great boyfriend, but once he starts gaming, his mind can't focus on anything else. Knowing his best friend Jaemin was visiting today, you were sure that's what they were doing: Gaming. Well, or so you thought until you saw the sight before you.

"Guys...?"

_______

"You need to control your woman, Jeno," Jaemin says, sipping at his beer that (at 2 in the afternoon) might not have been the ideal choice of drink considering the time, and the fact that it had already three antecedents with a similar alcoholic strength. Jaemin is by far not a lightweight, and he knows his tolerance and what happens when he drinks, so the inevitable was at least predicted: his mouth gets a little too loose for his own good.

"Care to elaborate?" Jeno furrows his brows purely in confusion, not at all in distress.

"The skirts," Jaemin elaborates, hands gesturing in the air without tenor, "too short."

"Ah," Jeno laughs, chest buzzing deeply as the sounds rumble up his throat, "yeah. Man, that's out of my reach. I can't tell her what to wear, you know? Feminism and stuff."

"Man," is all Jaemin can add. He knows this is kind of a weird thing for him to say. Don't get him wrong, he's not drunk enough for his moral compass to lay face-down passed-out somewhere in the corner of his brain, it's rather the mean alcohol taping its mouth shut with duct tape so all it can do is jump around and wave its arms, but not voice what exactly is wrong with this.

"Is it riling you up?" Jeno interrupts Jaemin's thoughts of trying to figure out what's going wrong right now. Immediately, a dirty grin pulls at the left corner of Jaemin's mouth, eyelids heavy as he gives his best friend a singular nod and a quick raise of his eyebrows to confirm the statement. Jeno mirrors the expression. "I get it, bro. I mean, as long as you respect that she's mine, there's no harm in looking, you get me?"

"Is there harm in... thinking, though?" Jaemin asks, chin tilting down to make him look up at Jeno questioningly before he adds a quick "Bro?"

"Well, no. What were you thinking?" Jeno asks from his place at the other end of the small couch, leaning forward to create a more intimate ambiance for Jaemin to spill his guts about the rearrangements he'd love to do concerning Jeno's girlfriend's guts. Should he be a little more worried about this? Maybe. Is the alcohol in his system calming the tiny jealous part he has in him? Not really. Is the alcohol in his system turning him on which results in him not giving a shit about the specific contents of his conversation as long as it contains sex? Absolutely!

"Look, man, respectfully," Jaemin says, placing his close-to-empty bottle on the table before leaning forward as well, "I'd not say no if things were different."

"Look at this guy," Jeno grins, and Jaemin breaks out an even wider one, "her short skirts, huh? That's what's setting you off? That's what's getting you hard?"

"What can I say," Jaemin shrugs, grin still evident on his features, horny-clouded brain ignoring the way Jeno keeps coming closer, the older's grin fading slowly but surely. Okay, maybe the jealous part is a little bigger than estimated. Jeno keeps coming closer, a finger acting with a mind of its own as it presses into Jaemin's (admittedly beefy) chest to push him back against the back rest.

"Hands off my girlfriend," Jeno almost growls. He's towering over Jaemin, the younger's smile not fading whatsoever, unfazed by the older's attempts to seem intimidating and dangerous.

"Do you remember that night after Chenle's party?" Jaemin has no clue why his mind brought this memory back up, possibly since it includes him and Jeno in a similar position.

"I do," Jeno gulps, eyes switching between Jaemin's.

"You're hot when you're mad, bro," Jaemin confesses before he can even start thinking about stopping himself. Also, he finds, there is no need for his blood to rush downwards only because he thinks about you in a skirt, assuming this is the sole reason for his tightening pants.

"I am?" Jeno's gaze flickers down to Jaemin's lips. His brain has yet to catch up with this rollercoaster of emotions, having gone from his general chill vibe Jeno to horny Jeno to jealous Jeno to am i about to fuck my best friend (again)? Jeno in a span of not many minutes (who's counting?).

"Yeah, and I'd give a nut to see you and her in bed together, both if I get to film it."

"I can't let that happen," Jeno says, opting for his voice to sound stern and sure, but it sounds more like he's about to cum in his pants untouched. Maybe he is.

"What are you gonna do about it, puppy? What if I fucked your girlfriend, huh? What would you do?" Jaemin has no idea where this is coming from, but it's coming from somewhere and it felt really urgent for him to get it out. Admittedly, he does not regret it one bit as judging by the way Jeno's brows knit together, eyes gloss over and lips start to trembe, he's just pushed the right buttons. Experimentally, Jaemin grinds his hips upwards, causing his confined cock to press against Jeno's who is not able to admit that he finds himself in a similarly aroused state. Instinctively, Jaemin's hands find Jeno's waist. The older gasps at the action, not really sure how to think with his brain when his balls tell him to let Jaemin do his thing, whatever that might include.

"This is still about her, right?" Jeno still manages to ask, breath shaking as Jaemin goes to open both of their jeans.

"Sure. This is just like after Chenle's party, pretend this is about football," Jaemin states, mind clouded with thoughts about his best friend and you, and how he would turn your sex life upside down.

"S-seriously, though," Jeno's voice shakes as he gets to enjoy the way Jaemin's hand sneaks into his boxers to finally touch him. "Are you thinking about her?"

"All the time," Jaemin admits truthfully, not breaking the eye contact Jeno's created. He wraps a hand around Jeno's length, his other hand pulling the older's pants down enough too free his throbbing errection that weights hotly in his hand. "I think about her lips and how perfectly they'd stretch around my cock."

"Shit," Jeno moans, eyes rolling back as Jaemin starts stroking him. "Keep going."

"I need to see her gagging, tears rolling down her cheeks." Jaemin moans at the thought, "touch me."

Jeno hastily complies, freeing Jaemin's hardness as well, not ever having realized how much he's missed the girth of it against his palm. At this, Jaemin groans deeply, hips bucking immediately as he sets a steady pace stroking Jeno as well.

"Her legs too, especially in those skirts. Makes me wonder about the kind of ass she hides from me," Jaemin continues and Jeno whines at the his words, jealousy bubbling up inside him to only fuel his need to cum.

"H-her ass is-" Jeno halts with a moan as Jaemin swipes his thumb over Jeno's tip, "tight."

"Fuck." Jaemin throws his head back as Jeno picks up the pace of stroking him. "Tell me about her cunt."

Jeno's thoughts are all over the place, remembering every single time he's had the chance to stuff you full of his cock, burying himself balls deep inside of you, and it honestly makes his head spin even more. "So wet 'n perfect," he babbles, eyes lidded as he presses his forehead against Jaemin's, "she takes me so well every time, like the good slut she is."

"Mhm, that's what I thought. Your little whore, our little whore- fuck, go faster," Jaemin moans as Jeno does exactly what he's told, the older's sounds turning Jaemin on beyond belief, as well as the thoughts about you that make him want to show up at your workplace unannounced and have his way with you in front of all of your colleagues to show them who you belong to. Involuntary though unmistakably, your name slips from Jaemin's lips.

"Guys...?"

In shock, Jeno's hand stops its movements, but Jaemin is quick to react as he grabs the older's jaw. "Keep going. Fucking look at her and keep going, puppy."

Jeno's wide eyes stay fixated on your shocked face as you analyze the scene unfolding in front of your eyes, though he complies and keeps jerking his best friend off. Jaemin knows you heard him moan your name, though he throws it in two more times to really be sure, knee pushing upwards against Jeno's balls to get him to the edge faster. "Tell her I want her," Jaemin commands, eyes trained on you as well, not missing the way your thighs press together at the sight in front of you.

"W-we want you," Jeno whines, hips stuttering before he releases with a groan, cum splashing out all over Jaemin's shirt almost up to his chin as he guides Jeno through his gut-wrenching high that's quickly followed by syllables of your name. It doesn't take long for Jaemin after that as he sends you a wink before asking: "Do you want it on your face, puppy?"

© 2023 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[r1pp4r]

hi lovelies!! work has been busy <333 i’m working on requests but in the mean time have some simon “ghost” riley headcannons :))

- i also bought a ps4 and have been playing cod so… more content hehe 🫶🫶

anyway!! here’s the headcannons :)) slight NSFW warning!!!

——————————————————————————————

- 🫣

• simon isn't a physical touch man unless youre in private but it takes a little bit. he won't be all over you when the two of you are out in public, especially on mission. but he'll do discreet little touches here and there (i.e put his hand on your upper arm, brush your shoulder, your knee, thigh) he'll even grab your pinky (he LOVES finger holding you cant change my mind)

• while simon would be absolutely infatuated with you, he'd also be terrified of you. he loves the thought of having you wrapped in his arms at night but the thought of him crushing or possibly hurting you shuts the idea out almost completely.

• this one is sad but he's hurt you before sleeping. he was definitely having a night terror, he's pushed you out of bed sometimes or woken up screaming. you didn't get to see that until farther along in the relationship though, he probably wouldn't physically sleep with you for maybe the first 6months to a year. it depends on ur dynamic :))

• as much as i know everyone thinks he'd be some mean, aggressive brute in bed... bro. he'd literally be so sweet. he'd take his time and make sure you felt loved. he likes to use his hands and mouth more than his yk, it just makes him feel like he's violating you less? idk how to explain it but he doesn't like receiving TOO much, like he won't ask for it every time but if you ever wanna really get him goin.. 🫣🫣🫣

• simon loves to take care of you, and the thing is you'll argue over it. (at least imc) but he'd definitely try and be the main caretaker of everything and i mean EVERYTHINGGGG, but he also likes ur independence :)) so u have your own job n your own money, he just likes to take care of the big things you pay for groceries n shit (when he's not looking)

• this man LOOOOOVES ur thighs. he loves just feeling his head squished in between the warmth. he loved feeling the skin squish between his fingers as he grabs your legs... esp when it jiggles after he spanks u. ANYWAYYYYYYYYY

• he loves cuddling whenever youre the little spoon in any shape or form. simon is ALWAYS holding you. his arms are wrapped around your form like a cocoon and he makes sure you're all cozied up against him. he also likes to make sure you're protected and one of the only ways he can do that is with his arms around you. he feels the safest with his arms wrapped around you, as do you.

• playing off that.. this man will literally murk a motherfucker if they LOOK at you wrong. (obviously not he'd just stare.. at them. very intensely) but if anyone ever put their hands on you in any sense of malice... i don't think for a second simon would hesitate.

• also... playing off sense. simon 100% knows when someone's bullshitting, or he can call anyone out within a minute. he's VERY good at reading people and truly can figure out their intentions quickly (obvs they can change or he can be wrong but like.. he's not 85% of the time.)

• once simon is comfortable enough with you, he'll come to you whenever he's having a moment and will allow you to basically cradle him until he doesn't need it anymore. he doesn't like to be squeezed tho (besides during ... but we knew that 😸) he just wants you to hold him and run ur fingers through his hair

• he talks a LITTLE bit more with you and his tone is a lot different and his voice is softer but he still doesn't talk a LOT. you do most of the talking but he prefers it that way because he loves listening to your voice. (he 100% calls you on missions whenever he can rather than text, he HATES texting)

• simon has cried to soap and roach about how he wants to love you but feels like he can’t. 100%.

• he only likes to be called simon when they’re at home, or in the bedroom. sometimes you’ve slipped up and he doesn’t mind :)

•bonus simon loves ur hands :~)

[averagewriter-inthedark]

The Old Therebefore 🐍🕊️ | A Six of Crows Imagine

Takes place after the events of S&B S2

My masterlists

Characters & Pairings: gang leader!reader x Crows (platonic). Kaz Brekker x reader (slight tension)

content warnings: profanity, mentions of violence and death, typical SOC themes. | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4k

Premise: it’s not often Kaz Brekker needs assistance to a job involving anyone other than his Crows. Yet, there is always a first. When a job comes involving not only a high cash prize but also chances of coming out alive slim, Kaz accepts it is out of his skill level. So, what does he do? Take a risk by recruiting his top rival since Pekka Rollins was run out of town….she’s got the charm of a snake with a voice of a songbird. 

Note: so as you can tell by the title of the imagine and song linked, I saw the new hunger games movie (back in November) and literally could not stop thinking about this song/scene. Then of course my hyperfixations like to collide and wallah: here is the end result.

Disclaimer as always: the song and lyrics belong to Suzanne collins and all the SOC characters belong to Leigh Bardugo

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“You know, Kaz, I know better than to question you on most things,” Jesper scanned his surroundings, voice low with slight concern. “But I can’t help but wonder why you’ve decided to drag us to the ‘Snake Pit’ tonight.” The sharpshooter sipped his glass of rum after a close inspection, “mind telling us.” 

Seated around him, Inej, Nina, and Wylan expressions bore the same unease. All on high alert the moment Kaz led them through the doors and down the spiral staircase into the Barrel’s infamous Snake Pit. 

Located deep on the opposite side of the Crow Club, the Snake Pit was an underground bar/club. Home of the legendary crime gang, the Blood Serpents. They’d been around since Kaz was 15, their leader to have been the same age as him. Yet the public knew very little of the notorious boss. Only by their code name. 

The Snake Charmer

Of course, this information made Kaz lose his mind at times. Unable to identify his anonymous rival who’s bested him on multiple occasions. If the opportunity arose, Kaz would pay any amount of kruge to find out who the Snake Charmer was. It’d been well over a decade. His patience was running thin.

Finally, the wait would pay off in the form of a messenger boy. 

Knowing Inej was too recognizable, Kaz sent a young member of the Dregs--who was under the radar to the other gangs--to infiltrate the Snake Pit the week prior. The boy returned hours later to relay a crucial piece of information. Now, Kaz was to test that theory. 

Clutching his cane, the crime boss did not spare a glance to his fellow Crows the second they entered the Pit. Even when they took claim to a rounded booth in a far corner by the bar. His attention was occupied. Analyzing the club and its features. Mentally noting the Blood Serpent members, who were identifiable by their red snake tattoos on their hands. 

One of which was the bartender that served them drinks. A young woman about their age, she wore a maroon pin-stripped 5 piece suit although the blazer was forgone. The tattoo was on full display. Kaz assessed her lingering on him when she pushed the tray of drinks toward Jesper. Likely recognizing him and by default the rest of the Crows. The bartender didn’t say anything after, only giving a nod before moving to the next customer. 

To the other Crows, they thought Kaz’s intense stare on the bartender was either because he thought she was attractive or making note she was just another member of the Serpents. But, what they did not know was Kaz figuring out if she was the Snake Charmer.

“A woman?” he questioned the boy, narrowing his eyes. “You are telling me the Snake Charmer--leader of the Blood Serpents--is a woman and works under the guise of an employee at the Snake Pit. Are you positive?”

The boy nodded profusely, “Yes, Mr. Brekker. I can assure you it was no man singing that song. She sounded like a siren if I must say. She calmed the snakes like it was nothing-- I see why they call her Snake Charmer.”

So a woman was responsible for a lot of Kaz’s failures. Not to mention winning the territory he’d hoped to gain when Pekka was defeated. They’d come to a settled agreement through a middle man. An action that annoyed Kaz. But he knew better than to wage war with the Snake Charmer. 

So far the women in the gang he’s managed to identify besides the bartender were two serving girls, a door bouncer, and two poker dealers. A total of six. Of the men, most of them were standing on the walls and mingling along the floor. 

Bet she didn’t expect him to enter her den. 

The Snake Pit was exactly like what the boy described. Dark wood floors and walls up to the high ceilings. Dangling chandeliers, poker tables, two bars on either side. Booths aligned the walls. The most notable and unique trait, however, was the glass snake enclosure right smack in the middle of the floor. It was cylinder shaped at the bottom, lining the floor to the ceiling where it branched out on either side to resemble a tree. Plants and dirt filled it. 

As did ten serpents. Ranging from tiny garden snakes to a python.  

Jesper cringed when his eyes landed on it. Wylan looked deathly afraid. Nina found it amusing. Inej thought it was fitting. Kaz was pleased to see it. To him, that was ammunition.

Kaz answered Jesper with one word that told the whole story, “Business.” 

“What business could you possibly have with the Snake Charmer?” Inej questioned, hand on her side close to her knives. “Don’t you think we should be discussing the plan?”

“And we are,” Kaz rebutted, leaning into the booth with his gaze set on the enclosure. “We’re here to flush out the Snake Charmer.” 

Jesper choked on his drink, meanwhile Nina and Inej looked at Kaz like he was crazy. “You’re fooling us aren’t you?” “Boss, jokes aren’t really your thing--.” “You’re insane, Kaz, if you believe that’ll happen.”

“You see that enclosure?” He cut off their rambling. All responded with a look of, ‘Of course we see the ginormous Snake habitat in the middle of the club full of our enemies.’ Kaz nodded to it, “we need to destroy it.”

Once again, Jesper choked. This time on his saliva. “You’ve lost it,” he ignored the glare from his boss, “Did going through the fold change you, Kaz? Clearly you’re not actually thinking we let loose a dozen snakes,” he leans forward to whisper, “we don’t even know if they’re venomous. If their bites don’t kill us, surely their owner will.” 

Analyzing Kaz, Inej lowered her tone, “what are you not telling us, Kaz?”

Giving one last scan of his surroundings, Kaz addressed his Crows with the truth of why he brought them to the Snake Pit. “I have a lead on who the owner of this establishment is.” Their reactions were immediate, Kaz continued. “A week ago I sent a young messenger boy here to scout out the place--find anything that could help identify the Serpents boss. During closing he snuck into one of their storage closets,” Kaz attempted to locate said closet, somewhere behind one of the bars. 

Kaz paid close attention to the bartender and the poker dealers. “At some point in the night, one of the snakes got loose. Or,” he turned to Jesper and Inej, “my theory is they use those snakes as a means to get information on people.”

“Great,” Nina sighs, “you want us to free the Serpent's torture method. Well done, Brekker. Excellent plan if I must say.” The heartrender received a glare, but Kaz did not entertain it further.

“As I was saying,” his tone was stern, making the others hold onto any additional comments. “The boy overheard the panic of one of the Serpents. Turns out, the Snake Charmer doesn’t take kindly to her pets being mishandled.”

“I can see why,” Jesper mutters, glancing at the enclosure. 

Kaz gripped his cane, watching the female bouncer approach the bartender and exchange words. “He then heard a woman’s voice. Singing.”

Wylan raised a brow, “Singing?”

“Whatever it was, it calmed the snake. Allowed her to return the animal back to its case. The boy said he heard arguing between a couple members who hoped to clean up their mistake before the boss discovered it.” Kaz shifted in his seat, “didn’t end well for them.”

“Did you get a look at her face?” Kaz peered out his office window, facing the direction of the Snake Pit’s location. Moonlight shining down, almost as though the Saints wanted him to see the building. Behind him, he heard the boy clear his throat.

“No, Sir.” He stuttered, tensing at the sight of Kaz lowering his head. “The door didn’t have any cracks or holes I could see through. I tried looking underneath, but only got a glimpse of their shoes.”

Kaz pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought. “What happened after she finished singing? How’d you get out?”

“Once the snake was handled, she ordered them to her office. She sounded….calm, but you know how you just know when someone is masking their anger. That’s how it was when she addressed them.” Kaz hummed, indicating he understood the boy’s implication. Considering he was guilty of such.

“And then?”

“I waited a few minutes until I was sure they were gone. The direction they went sounded like it was the far left of the club--opposite side of the spiral staircase that’s both the entrance and exit. I think there's a secret back entrance where they were because when I came out it was completely empty.”

Kaz found the secret back entrance. Camouflaged as a bookcase. He was able to spot the hinges carefully placed to where the light made it difficult to see them. But Kaz Brekker knew the art of illusion in the back of his hand. 

“This is what’s going to happen,” he became serious. The Crows lean in to hear him while maintaining their alert. “We need to expose those snakes from their enclosure. They’ll be our bait. From there we wait. If my theory is correct, those snakes only answer to their master. Or charmer in this case.” Kaz paused to locate the female workers in the club. “Her act as an employee is a ruse.”

Jesper followed his gaze, once again becoming riddled with unease. “You’re implying the Snake Charmer is either the bouncer who let us in, the gal who served our drinks, the serving girls working the floor or one of the poker dealers?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, Jesper.”

“Why would she do that?”

Nina snorted, sipping at her whiskey, “Isn’t it obvious?” she didn’t wait for an answer, “no one would pay a second glance to a worker. They are either too drunk or too naive to assume the pretty bartender or serving girl is the boss of one of Ketterdam’s deadly gangs.” She gestured to the serving girl closest to her. “My money’s on her being the Charmer.”

Jesper scoffed, “no way. To be a ghost and retain anonymity all these years you have to have a great poker face.” He states the obvious, “it’s one of the dealers.” 

Inej rolled her eyes, “are you seriously making this a competition?”

“You don’t think it could be the bouncer?” Wylan asked, scratching the back of his neck to relax the tension he felt. 

“No,” Jesper replied with a wave of a hand, “that would be obvious, don’t you think? Although….,” he rubs his chin, “considering they let us in -- and we know how much you and the Snake Charmer have been rivals so to speak all these years, boss -- you don’t think by letting us through that we walked into some sort of trap?”

Inej immediately straightened, “Jes has a point.” Nina stopped munching on her calamari, waiting for Kaz. She too realized the potential threat.

Kaz, however, remained relaxed. “It’s not the bouncer, but I know the Charmer has already been notified of our presence.” Wylan’s worry intensified.

“What makes you think that?”

“As we’ve been talking I noticed all the women working the club have interacted at some point. Some making it obvious to point us out,” He was referring to the bouncer nodding her head to the one serving girl. “Others are more discreet.” That was to the poker dealer and bartender. 

“And yet,” Jesper groans. “You still want us to make a scene. We are literally in a place crawling with snakes--pun not really intended.” the table rolled his eyes at him, save for Wylan who found the joke amusing. “Point is….you want to unleash the Snake Charmer’s serpents into a club full of innocent people--.”

“Innocent,” Nina scoffed under her breath. 

“What if one of us gets bitten?” Jesper kept his gaze on Kaz with mild concern. “I don’t believe for a second the Snake Charmer will kindly hand over the antidote to save our lives. She’ll take pleasure in watching us suffer a horrible death.” Picturing the scene, the sharpshooter downs the rest of his drink, cringing in the process. “Saints, this is not how I pictured I’d die.”

Kaz rolled his eyes, “No one’s dying today. No mourners.” Everyone glanced at each other.

“No funerals.”

“Right then,” It was time to work. “Here’s what we’ll do….”

A prayer slipped past his lips before Jesper inhaled deeply and let the bullet fly. The sound caused gasps from around him, though he was quick to hide the weapon in its holster before one noticed.

“Who did that?!” came a shout from the bouncer. Patrons were already making their way toward the exit. Not wanting to get caught in a crossfire. 

Jesper occupied himself with his rum, glancing over his shoulder to Inej, who signaled to him the bullet did not penetrate the glass completely. Sighing, he downed the contents, waited until it was clear, and shot again. 

The second bullet hit the glass with a loud clunk. Once again alerting the occupants of the Snake Pit. Many searched themselves for any sign of blood for fear they were shot by an unknown assailant. 

“C’mon,” Jesper whispered, peering at the enclosure. He saw the evidence of his bullet, a chip in the glass near the bottom. If he could time it right, without someone getting in the way, he’d hit the mark. 

Meanwhile employees of the club were trying to calm the crowd, “everyone please remain--.” Another shot rang out, more shouts echoing. Kaz’s patience was running thin. Their door to escape started to close as he noticed the security begin to close in on the Crows. No doubt suspecting they were to blame for the chaos. 

Kaz Brekker coming to the Snake Pit with his most trusted advisors for only a drink? Yeah right.

Then, almost in slow motion, the sound best described as ice cracking filled his ears. All eyes turned to the enclosure. Fear surfacing as they witnessed spiderwebs painting the glass. Then all hell broke loose when the glass gave way, allowing the beasts freedom from their isolation. 

Screams ensued. People climbing from the floors onto tables and chairs. Hissing from the snakes intensified the hysteria. Kaz even found himself moving when the python pivoted in his direction. Jesper of course found himself on top of a chair the moment the glass shattered. Inej was high up on a balcony on the opposite side of the club. How did she get up there? No one knew. Wyalan was close to Jesper. He too found safety on a stool. Nina meanwhile was listening to the heartbeats around here. The number decreased each time a patron made it up the staircase and out the door. 

Seconds passed and no sight of the Snake Charmer. Kaz was getting worried. Fearing the plan was a failure. His worry increased when he found himself scurrying on top of a poker table. Distracted with trying to find the workers he suspected of being the Snake Charmer to realize the cobra had got close to him. Had he not acted fast, the man’s leg would’ve fallen victim to its fangs. Catching Jesper’s eye, they shared the concern evident in their expressions. Wondering just how the fuck they were going to escape the situation. 

Suddenly his prayers were answered in the form of an angelic voice. Causing the screams to disappear…..

“You’re heading for heaven, 

The sweet old hereafter, 

And I’ve got one foot in the door. 

But before I can fly up, 

I’ve loose ends to tie up, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore.”

Heads turned, facing the direction of the sound. Their expressions turned into pure shock. Kaz may have had his suspicions, but it still came as a shock to discover he was right all along. 

Ketterdam’s notorious crime boss, leader of the Blood Serpents….was the Snake Pit’s bartender. 

Walking around the bar, crunching against the glass of broken bottles on the floor from the hysteria of customers fleeing to get away from the snakes, the woman kept her gaze on slithering animals. The hissing continued as she inched closer, however she did not seem fazed at all. Her singing continued.

“I’ll be along, 

When I’ve finished my song, 

When I’ve shut down the band, 

When I’ve played out my hand, 

When I’ve paid all my debts, 

When I have no regrets, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

The hissing got quieter. The animals turning so they were in line with the woman. Slithering slowly but surely toward her. Confirming to everyone she was their master. Their charmer.

Off to the side, a few of the Blood Serpents rushed in with crates. Pushing people aside. Meanwhile the woman got to her knees, leveling down to the snakes who were now moving toward her. Eyes locked, face serious. The Snake Charmer was obviously trying to keep herself together. But Kaz felt the rage seep off of her. 

“I’ll catch you up, 

When I’ve emptied my cup, 

When I’ve worn out my friends, 

When I’ve burned out both ends, 

When I’ve cried all my tears, 

When I’ve conquered my fears, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

The snakes smaller in size slithered up her outstretched arms. Covering both limbs in a tangle of scales. One slithering up to encase her neck, almost like a necklace. The Cobra took claim to her waist. The python circled her, almost like it contemplated joining its fellow serpents. 

Around Kaz, he made out the faint gasps of customers who had yet to depart. Glancing around, he witnessed them all in states of shock and awe. Even his Crows were at a loss of words. 

As was he.

The Snake Charmer’s voice turned strong. Echoing through the entire club as she belted out the next verse. Bringing chills to everyone’s arms.

“I’ll bring the news, 

When I’ve danced off my shoes, 

When my body’s closed down, 

When my boat’s run around, 

When I’ve tallied the score,

 And I’m flat on the floor, 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

Rising from the ground, she was covered by the creatures. Her python has wrapped itself around her leg. Its tail was on the floor while its head perched by where the cobra had secured itself on her belt. From the neck down the Snake Charmer was a sight to behold. Revealing why the nickname was not only because she was the leader of a gang filled with snakes. 

It was because she was gifted with the talent of charming their namesake.

Moving toward her subordinates holding crates, no doubt to keep the animals contained, the woman passionately sang the final verse. Giving it all she had. 

“When I’m pure like a dove, 

When I’ve learned how to love.”

Tone dropping, she leaned to lower the snakes into the crates. Gently as though they were newborn babies. Kaz caught her stoke the pythons head, her singing so low it was good the place was dead quiet. 

Right here in The Old Therebefore. 

When nothing is left anymore.”

Finally, after what felt like forever, the snakes were safely stored in the crates. Lids dropping shut with the gang members hurrying from the floor to transport them to another room. No one moved. Any and all eyes focused on the woman in the pinstripe suit. Back turned to the Crows and other patrons, but from the fearful look of her door bouncers, everyone silently prayed they’d make it to the morning. 

Moving her neck in a circle, a low crack from the joints that had been stiff, she slowly turned to face the audience. A clenched jaw and fury in her eyes made it clear what was going through her mind. Especially to Kaz, who was fighting to not look away when she instantly met his gaze.

Oh, she knew alright.

“Well…” the Charmer’s tone sent chills along the Crows' bodies. “You’ve certainly got my attention, Mr. Brekker.” Her spite was evident. Complete rage. Likely planning every means of torture she wished to bestow on her rival and his comrades. 

It was so quiet. So thrilling. Nobody dared to move a muscle. Patrons watching the stare down between the King, and now the unmasked Queen, of the Barrel. It was captivating yet terrifying. Wondering who would make the first move, and if it will end in a blood bath.

Then she snapped, “Everyone out!!” The floor cleared in seconds. Leaving only Serpents and Crows. They knew better than to attempt an escape. Plus the moment their boss addressed Kaz, the Serpents had circled them to prevent any sudden attack. 

Kaz remained composed. Watching closely as the Snake Charmer moved to the bar to pour herself a drink. “Before I kill you, Kaz Brekker, and your little birds too,” she did not look at him, paying attention to the liquid filling the glass. He tightened his jaw. “I want to hear you explain to me why you brought yourselves to my club,” bringing the glass to her lips, she downed half the alcohol in one gulp. Drawing her eyes up to make contact with him, “And destroyed my babies' home.”

Her footsteps echoed, walking toward the center of the floor where Kaz stood. “You’re a smart man.” She took another sip, this time slower. “Not only did you manage to draw me into the light, but you knew exactly how to do so.” A smirk plastered on Kaz’s face. A bold move considering the threat lingering at displaying his smugness to the Serpent Queen. Her lips were in a thin line, “What brings you to my den?”

Straightening his posture, Kaz stepped closer. Their distance is only a mere foot from one another. Making everyone--Crows and Serpents alike--suffocating from the tension between the two. 

“You won’t be killing us tonight, Charmer.” If only he knew her real name. Only having her title felt like she had some reign on him. Superior in a sense. The whole Barrel knew him as Dirtyhands, but Kaz Brekker had his own reputation. For her, people can now put a face to the name Snake Charmer. A beautiful woman with the voice of an angel. So powerful it made snakes bend to her will. 

Also, people would be shaken by the fact the deadly gang leader served them drinks during their visits to the Snake Pit. Hidden in plain sight. Listening to them spill their drunken secrets. 

Kaz leaned closer, the scent of her perfume hitting his nostrils. Jasmine. A flower known to attract snakes. He understood why she wore it. The smell was alluring. As was her presence, but Kaz dismissed the thought as quick as it came. “Doing so will result in you losing an important job I’m willing to negotiate your assistance on. Believe me, the reward is more than generous--enough for the both of us to share.” Now he got her attention, confirmed by the way her head slightly tilted, brow raised. 

“Humor me, Brekker.”

“Have you ever heard of jurda parem?”

[roronoagem]

Person who asked for Law with reader who was forced to eat a devil fruit. Can I go by 🐻‍❄️ anon?

Ahhhh! You did a great job!!! Thank you so so much!

I think it'd be funny to see a continuation. Maybe Bepo stays a little bit closer to reader just in case she falls over again and Law gets jealous that he can't be the one to dive in and save her?

🐻‍❄️

characters: trafalgar d. water law

content warning: gn!reader, jealous!law, bepo is super cute (he’s my baby fr) & poor attempt at fluff i think idk.

a/n: omg thank you so much !! of course you can be 🐻‍❄️ anon — basically bepo anon huh, i’m gonna add you to my list hehe. this one is short fr, i could only think of a tiny convo between them. i apologise if this is not what you expected >_< .

after the accident, bepo decided to stay super close to you.

“you don’t have to act like a baby-sitter, bepo,” you would try to ease his tension. it doesn’t work of course.

“i have to be ready to help you!”

bepo’s closeness caught the attention of a certain someone who unconsciously grew jealous of this whole situation.

“bepo i’m okay, i promise. i’m just sitting here watching the waves,” he’s hugging you. no literally he’s holding you to make sure you won’t slip into the water.

law noticed how whenever you were walking around on the deck doing whatever task, the polar bear acted like your shadow.

he wasn’t really jealous of him being too close to you, he was jealous of the fact that 1. he would be the first to see if something happens and 2. he could actually jump in to save you.

this is something law could never do because of his devil fruit.

you noticed the way he acted a bit different after that, not really thinking his change in behaviour was a consequence of bepo being there for you at all times — well, not in that sense.

“law!” you walked right into his office, making your presence known even before he could see your figure. he hummed, acknowledging your presence, eyes focusing on the pages of the book he was reading.

“are you sad?” you sat right next to him, pouting. “hm?” law glanced at you, curious as to why you were asking something like that. “it looks like you’re always pouting when you see me on the deck. did something happen?”

was he that obvious?

“no, i’m okay,” he shrugged it off and went back to his book. “are you jealous?” you smirked, your tone showing amusement now. “what— no. why would i be?” he rolled his eyes.

“because bepo’s not afraid to hug me in public,” you suggested, trying to find a way to let him spit the truth out. “i hug you,” he corrected, not even glancing at you this time. you huffed and then looked down for a moment, trying to think of something else.

“he can do something i can’t, though,” his voice was low but you heard it clear as a day. “huh?” you raised your brows, confused. “what if you fall once again? he can jump in,” he added after a long moment of silence.

you realised what he meant and swiftly moved closer, searching for his gaze. “i don’t care about that, because you protect me in many other ways and that’s all that matters,” you took his hand, tracing his tattoos with your thumb slowly. as law finally met your eyes, you offered him a sweet smile. “i guess… you’re right,” he finally, but slowly, gave in. it wasn’t rational, feeling jealous of something like that.

“so… you were, in fact, jealous,” you then laughed at him, easing the tension between you two. law rolled his eyes, cheeks turning slightly pink now. “shut up,” he tried to sound offended but seeing you laughing changed his mood, as he secretly enjoyed watching you spread your happiness like that.

[venus-haze]

Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf? (Foxy Coltrane x Reader)

Summary: It’s Halloween, 1985, and your Little Red Riding Hood costume catches the attention of the Midnight Wolfman himself.

Note: Female (incredibly unhinged) reader. Foxy calls the reader “Red” because of the Halloween costume, not due to any physical descriptors. I've literally been working on this since February🫠 Anyway, this is for all the old man fuckers out there🖤 Except if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Discussions of canon typical violence. Sexually explicit content involving semi-public play, oral sex (m. receiving) and light roleplaying elements.

October 31, 1985

As soon as you walked into the bar up the road from your place, you immediately wanted to walk out. Having no other plans for Halloween night, you figured you could make the best of going solo. Wore a cute little costume to see where the night led you. Somehow you ended up in a bar where no one else was dressed up for the holiday that called for it. At least, not to the extent you were. Sure, it was a mass-produced Little Red Riding Hood costume you bought on your way home from work, but you made it your own with some makeup and cute heels you dug out of your closet.

You trudged over to the bar, soon nursing your drink and your hurt feelings. With your lip pouted in a slight sulk, you looked around, hoping to catch someone’s attention. Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a man approached. Dark eyes locked on you. Sly grin on his face. Older, handsome in a scruffy way that your friends always teased you for being into.

You craned your neck to look up at him from your barstool. He sure as hell had that going for him too.

“I dig your costume, Little Red.”

You smiled. “Thanks. Seems like I’m the only one here who got the memo that it’s Halloween.”

“Hell, Halloween is everyday for me,” he said.

“You got a name?”

“You can call me the Midnight Wolfman.” He threw his head back and bellowed out a howl.

Your eyes widened. Heart might’ve skipped a beat. 

Shouts and cheers punctuated the sound, a few of the bar patrons following his lead with weak howls of their own. 

He was probably crazy. Or drunk. Likely both. But fuck, why else would you have gone out on Halloween?

“Buy me a drink, Wolfman?” 

“Glad to, Red.” 

He sat down at the stool next to you, long legs splayed out as one of his boots rested between your heels on your footrest. He claimed your space so easily, you nearly forgot you’d only just met him.

Two shared shots of whiskey later, your face was warm as he leaned in to talk. His easy drawl lured you closer, knees touching, close enough that you could see yourself in his steel blue gaze. You nearly suggested finding a booth to squeeze into. 

Your mind raced with visions of him pulling you onto his lap, his big hands all over you, lips attached to your neck while the other bar patrons were none the wiser.

“Most people call me Foxy, though,” he said.

You furrowed your brows, hoping you hadn’t been fantasizing through too much of the conversation. “Foxy?”

“That’s my name. Winslow Foxworth Coltrane.”

“I like it. Sounds like an F. Scott Fitzgerald character or something.”

“Who’s that?”

“He wrote The Great Gatsby.”

“Oh yeah, I saw that one, had Redford in it. Kind of a snoozefest if you ask me. I mean, hard to follow up Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” he said. “What kind of movies are you into, Red?”

“I love horror, especially the gory shit,” you said before you could think twice. 

He grinned, giving you a nod of approval. “Right on.”

“My favorite is probably The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Have you seen that one?”

“Yeah, it was great. Reminds me of my family.”

You laughed. “No kidding.”

His smile wavered, and for the first time all night it felt like you two weren’t on the same wavelength. Had you missed something in your half-drunk stupor? Was there something he mentioned that you fantasized through?

“Um, how about you?” you asked, trying to salvage the connection. “Westerns?”

“I’m into the classics, like those old monster movies.”

“Well, you’re way more handsome than Lon Chaney, Wolfman.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m the real deal, baby.”

“I believe it.”

“Yeah?”

You licked your lips. “With a howl like yours? Makes a girl think you could eat her alive.”

“C’mere,” he growled, pulling you to him. 

His lips were on yours, wild and passionate that would keep you up the rest of the night even if nothing else happened. The way he had his hands on you, though, bringing you closer to him, deepening the kiss so you could taste the whiskey on his tongue, the very same he bought you, made you certain he wanted the night to end exactly the same way you did.

He pawed at your ass, his hands pushing up your short, red, satin skirt until your panties peaked out. You moaned when his fingers brushed the wet spot on the fabric, pushing against your clit. Fuck the notion of a getting busy in a back booth, you were ready to let him take you up against the bar if you weren’t so rudely interrupted.

“Hey, c’mon,” the bartender said, looking equally disturbed and exasperated. “You guys can’t—”

Foxy slammed his palm onto the bar, nearby glasses rattling on impact. “Motherfucker, if you don’t get out of my girl’s face I’ll crack your skull open.”

A smile twitched across your lips.

“Get out before I call the cops. Both of you.”

Foxy stood up. “Think I’m scared of some fuckin’ pigs?” Grabbed a nearby beer bottle and smashed it against the bar. Before you could blink, the jagged edge was pressed against the bartender’s throat. If anyone noticed what was going on, they sure as hell weren’t trying to intervene. “By the time they get here I could gut you like a fish.” 

A delirious thrill rolled down your spine at the gleam in Foxy’s eyes. 

“Look man, you—you don’t even have to pay for the drinks. Just go, alright?”

Deathly silence fell over the altercation, the bartender glancing between Foxy’s wild face and the broken bottle.

Do it, a dark, repressed part of you, ravenous for blood, hissed.

Foxy laughed, shaking his head. “You’re a fuckin’ pussy, man.” He threw his arm around you, letting the broken bottle shatter on the floor as he led you out.

“Don’t come back!”

“I wouldn’t shit here if I ate a gas station hot dog, asshole,” he shouted over his shoulder.

You pulled your polyester cloak a little tighter when you walked outside. Damn, you and Foxy probably looked like one hell of a pair to the people just getting to the bar.

The two of you stood in the middle of the parking lot while he lit a cigarette. “I don’t eat gas station hot dogs if I can help it. Give me indigestion. My ol’ man—well, adopted ol’ man—he used to make a mean fried chicken at his gas station,” he said, taking a drag. “Get a hankering for the stuff sometimes, and KFC sure as hell doesn’t cut it. Guess Colonel Sanders’ get-up is better than dressing like a clown, though.”

You interjected his rambling, “You would’ve done it, wouldn’t you? The bartender—”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time.” He stared you down, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He took a long drag, smoke rolling from his lips and circling above his head as he asked, “You afraid of the big bad Wolfman, Red?”

“Terrified.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Then show me.”

“Mine or yours?”

“Mine. Yours. I don’t know—I need you, Foxy.” Your voice neared a whine. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Say that again.”

“I need you.” You tugged on his shirt. “Foxy, c’mon.”

“Yours. I can’t drive at night for shit.”

You grabbed him by the arm, practically pulling him over to your car. 

Jamming the key into the lock, you couldn’t open the driver’s side door fast enough, quickly unlocking the passenger door for him. Your hands would’ve been shaking if you weren’t gripping the steering wheel within an inch of your life as you peeled out of the parking lot the moment he finished adjusting the seat, moving it as far back as it could go to accommodate his long legs. 

“Mind if I turn on the radio?” Foxy asked.

“Sure. I don’t live far, though. Should only be ten minutes.”

He fiddled with the stations until a late night news broadcast mentioned the name Otis Driftwood. He paused before sitting back.

“‘Free the Three’ demonstrations in support of the notorious Devil’s Rejects death cult continue well into the night.”

The reporter detailed the Fireflys’ crimes, as if anyone could have missed them. Hundreds of gruesome murders to their names. You, just like everyone else in America, had been glued to the story when it broke. All work practically came to a halt when their trials were going on, obvious guilty verdicts amidst a media circus.

“What do you think of ‘em?” Foxy asked, breaking the silence.

“The Fireflys?”

“Yeah.”

You glanced at him, tearing your eyes off the road for a moment to gauge how he’d react to your answer. “I guess what they did is fucked up, but the police and military have done way worse. Like, Otis Driftwood never dropped nukes on entire cities,” you said. “Why?”

“That’s my family.”

“Really?”

“Well, Otis is my half-brother. The rest of ‘em are all adopted.”

You looked at him again. Then the road. Then him in disbelief. “Then you—“

“Told you I was the real deal, sweetheart.”

“Why didn’t you get caught?”

“I was already in the can. Crazy how that shit happens, huh?”

You hit the gas, accelerating from 50 to 85 in a flash. No cops. Didn’t matter. Foxy could handle them if there were. You pressed your thighs together. Almost considered pulling over and just fucking in the backseat. But where was the fun in that? The excitement? The vulnerability of letting a killer into your home, where you’re supposed to be safe, and hoping to god he wouldn’t see your kitchen knives and get some bright ideas? You moaned. Oh god. You moaned.

“Red?”

“I know, Foxy. I’m going as fast as I can.” Your voice was whiny, high-pitched, desperate. “Piece of shit car—”

He grinned, shaking his head. “You’re nuts.”

“Is that a turn off?”

“Hell no.”

——

You nearly dropped your keys by the time you unlocked the door to your apartment, Foxy feeling you up from behind while you fumbled with them, obviously amused by your racing pulse and trembling hands.

“Cool place,” he said when he walked inside. “You got any roommates or—”

You pushed him against the front door, your mouth on his, desperate, hungry for anything he’d give you. Slipping your hand between your bodies, you cupped the bulge in his jeans. He groaned into your mouth, and you squeezed gently, feeling his cock strain against the rough denim.

“Don’t tease,” he growled.

“It’s only teasing if you don’t follow through.” You kneeled in front of him, moving to untie your cloak while he unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans.

“Wait,” he said, “leave the costume on.”

“Whatever you want, Wolfman.”

He pulled his cock from his boxers, big enough to be intimidating at first glance. But he was a killer, part of the Firefly clan, for god's sake, you wouldn't falter, instead mustering up the courage you had to even invite him home in the first place.

“My, what a big cock you have,” you teased, taking it in your hand, spreading the precum at his tip with your thumb while slowly pumping his length.

“All the better to fuck that pretty mouth with, Red.”

You licked your lips, holding eye contact with him as you took him in your mouth. Something primal about him, inherently dangerous. He’d killed people before, probably done far worse. Could change his mind at any time and cause you a world of hell. You pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore the ache in your core for hopes he’d take care of it if you did a good enough job. With the way he dug his fingers into your scalp, loud curses and praises falling from his mouth, you weren’t doing half bad.

“Midnight Wolfman’s got you right where he wants you, huh, Red? Turned you into his little bitch?” he taunted. “C’mon, gimme a howl.”

You whined around his cock, choking a bit when he thrust in your mouth. You liked this version of the story a hell of a lot better. No one to save you. Just you, in your Little Red Riding Hood costume, and the wolf, his crooked teeth bared as he hissed through them, grinning down at you. And you brought him there. Invited him into your home knowing he could tear you apart if he wanted to—maybe you wanted him to.

“You’re a good slut, ain’t you?” He groaned. His cock twitched in your mouth, you could feel the salty taste of him on your tongue as he came with a howl. “Take it all, Red—fuck, take it.” As if you had much of a choice but to swallow, but his praise went to your head, to your pussy. “Fuck, you’re like a dream come true.”

Pulling back, sitting on your heels, you looked up at him with a newfound predatory gleam in your eye as he caught his breath.

“By the way,” you said, acutely aware of the wet ache between your thighs, “I live alone, if you wanna return the favor.”

[coff-in]

OKAY POP OFF I LITERALLY BINGED NEARLY ALL OF YOUR ANDREW GRAVES WRITING <3 <3 good day to be alive! Okay, I think you do such a wonderful job at capturing Andrew’s character, and for some reason that’s just something I can not do at all! I say this because recently I’ve been contemplating what Andrew would act like if he were in a secret relationship with masc! Reader who’s cheating on his girlfriend to be with Andrew. How would Andrew react when he sees Reader and his girlfriend out in public? How would Andrew treat Reader’s girlfriend one-on-one? How would Andrew and Reader act in public, and what would Andrew do to subtly (or not subtly at all) label Reader as his? Fndjdjdjnfnsnndn IM OBSESSED IM OBSESSED BUT I CANT COME UP WITH ANYTHING.

So yeah! I figured I would come to you with this idea because you’re an icon <3 If you’re interested, please share any ideas that you have! Preferably no NSFW, but suggestive content is fine! Thank you!

note from coff-in: this is actually very silly to me because earlier today i was thinking how i don't do andrew's personality and thinking justice in my writing ^^; thank you for your compliments though!

[masc] reader-insert

is cheating on your girlfriend with a taken man more socially accepted than committing incest? /joking

in all seriousness, andrew may feel conflicted with his feelings. especially if he's dating julia at this time, GOD I LOVE THE MESSY SHIT THEY GET INTO <3 andrew would fucking brain blast when he figures out that he's gay or into mascs. andrew falling in love with [reader] is just... grrr!! it makes me feel bad for julia. andrew would suggest that they keep their relationship secret (however i think he would do it in a manner where he hints at it and allows [reader] to offer the idea explicitly) because it wouldn't end well for him if it got out that he was dating/seeing a guy in a relationship WHILE in a relationship himself! a supposedly straight guy! fucking messy... what if ashley hears? would she even accept it?

andrew won't act too different around [reader] when he's around his girlfriend. as far as anyone can tell, andrew and [reader] are good friends, close bros, etc. however, [reader]'s girlfriend can't help but to feel like she's... somehow third wheeling their time together. andrew makes sure to include her here and there to avoid too much suspicion but he's still mainly focused on [reader]. but be sure-- SO FUCKING SURE-- that andrew is keeping his fingers in [reader]'s belt loops. i can also see him brushing his feet against [reader]'s under the table, cause i think it's cute :3

andrew would treat [reader]'s girlfriend... normally, i guess? like how he would treat julia before dating her or how he'd treat a friend. though, i think he would flex his knowledge about [reader] when able to. oh, she getting you something to eat? well he tells her that [reader] prefers this type of food instead of that. she's talking about a show or book? well he and [reader] watched/read something similar like that and, well, you get it. i've seen a lot of analysis about andrew's love or the way he loves ashley being sort of all consuming and i HEAVILY fuck with that. he's such a fucking romantic, he would definitely tell [reader] romantic/love poems and like... maybe even hold hands hehe!

this as cute to answer, i hope it did it justice to you, 'nonnie!!

----

coff-in

[here2bbtstrash]

look down on me like that - 9 (explicit)

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

pairing: yoongi x reader

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

word count: 16k 🙈

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

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

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

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

read on AO3!

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you fucking kiddin—”

“Hey.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of fucking course.

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

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

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

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You wear glasses?”

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

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

“Wow, glasses? Really?”

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh,” Yoongi finally remarks.

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

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

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

“Guess so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naturally,” Vernon interjects.

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

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

“Is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, can I be honest?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am?”

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

“So are you,” Yoongi counters.

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

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

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

Yoongi nods once. “Probably, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you nervous?”

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

“The Grammys?”

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

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

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh fuck yeah, please suck me off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you asking for my help?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He has good taste.”

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

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you know Sakamoto?”

You hum a no as you shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And the Grammy goes to…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you take us to Koreatown, please?”

~*~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a good story.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel like Cinderella naega byeonae—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, we’re closing in five.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re what?”

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

“In love with you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was,” you echo. “Really.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-oh.”

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

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

“Yes, Jimin,” you groan. “In love.”

“And?”

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

“Well, that depends,” Jimin starts.

“On?” you snap, impatient.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

chapter eight | masterlist | chapter ten

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

[darcytaylor]

There is a pattern to these fandom freakouts that's quite frankly become exhausting. Every time L hasn't posted in a while, trolls come out of the woodwork, posting shit affecting his loved ones, hoping to spur him into action. This is what happened last time with the HBS likes. Every time there's info or even so much as a hint that he's still with A, a smear campaign against him is launched, without fail. But if he posts something about Bton, all is forgotten in seconds, he's suddenly uwu babygurl Lukey Newts, perfect boy. Every. Fucking. Time. This is what happens whenever a celebrity isn't doing a little monkey dance for the fandom. And it's such a weird thing - if they're obsessed with someone, it doesn't necessarily mean that they love or even like them. In which case, I would like to kindly ask - why are they even here? Like, what are they hoping to get out of this experience?

Personally, I'm tired of going into any Bton fandom space at this point, hoping to see what's new and hopefully have a good time, and getting bombarded with literal nonsense that will be disproven within hours yet will somehow linger in the collective fandom memory and become a building block of increasingly unfounded theories that have diverged completely from reality, yet get regurgitated as fact every time new info emerges. They always find a way to contort even the most benign piece of info into intractable timelines of things that have been given meaning that they simply don't bear. Literally if you were to pull a thread, the whole thing would fall apart. Yet, these same things get resuscitated every time the fandom is mad at L or N or whoever for not doing whatever it is they think they should be doing.

The entitlement is mind-blowing and the rinse-repeat cycle of chicken-littling over the minutest thing is sucking every bit of joy out of being in this fandom anymore. It has become more time-consuming just trying to curate my experience than actually consuming content I'd like to see. What is even the point anymore, folks, huh? Would your own lives withstand the same kind of scrutiny you're putting these people under? They're just trying to make entertainment and a living out of it, what's the point of ruining everything? Whence even the urge? None of this is that deep. Is everyone just a miserable fuck anymore? I'm sorry for ranting, but it's become not worth it for me anymore when May was such a blessed time. Why can't we all stay in that energy? What good could possibly come of this? Thank you for listening and take care of yourselves, everyone.

I totally get where you're coming from. Fandoms can become overwhelming, and it sounds like you're feeling really drained by all the drama and negativity. It’s hard when a space you used to enjoy turns into a battleground of speculation, entitlement, and frustration. Your feelings about how fans treat celebrities and the constant cycle of drama are completely valid. I've noticed this pattern as well. It’s disheartening when every action or inaction of a public figure is scrutinized and twisted into something negative. Luke might not have handled everything perfectly, but the extreme reactions often reflect a lack of empathy and misplaced expectations.

It’s also frustrating when fandom spaces are overwhelmed with misinformation and sensationalism. This is why I found myself rolling my eyes at the information coming out yesterday. People should be more mindful about the sources of their information and why it’s being spread. The effort to sift through and debunk myths can be more exhausting than just enjoying the content. Constantly having to defend yourself or distance from the negativity to keep your enjoyment intact is disheartening.

It’s tough when people criticize you for trying to view the situation from a different perspective and not just join in the attack without knowing all the facts (or at least a good portion of them). It’s definitely tiring. I was feeling this yesterday because of the asks I was getting.

Remember, it's perfectly okay to step back if the environment is no longer enjoyable or is affecting your well-being. Fandoms should be a place for sharing enthusiasm and connecting with others who feel the same way, not a source of constant stress and conflict. I hope you find a way to rekindle your enjoyment of the fandom or at least find some peace with it. Take care of yourself and focus on what makes you happy. ❤️