Rating: Teen Word Count: 1,128 Genre: Slice-of-Life | Fluff(?) | Humour(? I have a weird sense of humour) Summary: As a freelance artist, why look for references online when your perfectly sculpted boyfriend is more than willing to pose for you?
Zen was in the kitchen looking for a small snack to eat when he heard a frustrated groan come from the living room. Curious, and slightly worried, the young man abandoned his quest for food and instead walked out to see what was wrong. The white-haired male quirked an eyebrow when he saw you sprawled out on the floor face-down before bringing his attention to the laptop on the table where you were supposed to be.
Your drawing tablet lay beside the laptop, abandoned and forgotten. The laptop screen had an Internet browser up, sitting idly on Doodle Images of what looked to be shirtless men in all sorts of what was supposed to seductive poses. Not quite sure on how he felt about that, Zen’s eyes traveled back to your still very much sprawled-out form.
Imagine a pocket-sized you staring shamelessly at Yoongi sitting at his work desk. You’re resting on one of his speakers (you had to force Yoongi to move one of his figures he had resting there previously) while swinging your legs. The said man gazes at his monitor intently as he works on another composition. Tilting your head a little, you lean on the hands that rest on your knees and study Yoongi as if he’s a piece of artwork in a museum.
The discontent is very visible on the rapper’s face, as the more you stare, the more his left eye twitches. Finally, he can no longer take the undying attention placed on him. After closing his eyes and letting out the longest sigh you’ve heard him release all day, he turns to look you in the eye and asks, “Why are you staring at me so much?”
It takes a couple of seconds for you to find an answer before you reply, “You have brown hair.”
Yoongi almost wants to bash his head into his keyboard.
“You look weird with brown hair.”
“Shouldn’t I look normal now that I don’t hair the color of something on the rainbow?”
“Actually, you look so much younger with brown hair.”
“Lemme feel it!”
You make grabby hands at his locks of hair, and Yoongi has no choice but to comply. Leaning over his desk, he brings his head towards the speaker, and you climb right on. Once his back straightens again, Yoongi attempts to get back into his flow of work as you squeeze and pull at his dark strands. His attempts are futile as he hears you speak dreadful words.
“You know, maybe we should call you chocolate Suga.”