#ESPECIALLY LIL EVIL BOY

[vaguely-concerned]

zero with the helmet faceplate broken so it reveals just one of his eyes and spiderweb cracks all around it.........

#I am not in drawing mode right now so I can't make this happen for me but by GOD I wish someone would haha #campaign star wars #agent zero #evil campaign #I'm so sad we never got to see zero get to go completely ham in battle #the closest we have is the mandalore arc but he's clearly reeling a bit from his lil guy getting thrown off a roof in that one lol #that's his emotional support lil aged out boy king and without him he lost two arms in one night. rough times for zero #I simply think zero should get to go full beast mode and kill a bunch of people in cool ways audiotorially on-screen. as a treat! #a treat for him a treat for me a treat especially for blue there are no downsides here. except for the people he'd kill I guess #I love what we got but I mourn what we might have had (zero with his faceplate cracked in a metaphorically coherent and pleasing way #killing fools and looking cool doing it. imagine someone almost managing to kill blue and zero going To Town on them. imagine.) #steadfastly not looking at how many of my comfort characters have their eyes or faces habitually covered in some way #it quite simply means nothing and signifies nothing

[ugh-yoongi]

a word from our sponsors | knj

you’ve co-hosted a podcast with namjoon for three years; have known him even longer. the two of you have always been the picture of platonic, but that hasn’t stopped the internet from doing what the internet does. the shipping? a little weird at first, but you can understand it: two attractive twenty-somethings always in close proximity to one another, obvious (platonic!) chemistry—people have created ships for less. the fanfiction, though? also pretty funny… until you can’t stop thinking about it. 🎙️

pairing: namjoon x f. reader genre: podcast, friends to lovers au; crack, smut, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact. warnings: parasocial relationships galore, a m*n with a p*dcast, author abuses italics, swearing, alcohol, reader uses a pseudonym/nickname (piper) because writing the meta fanfiction scene would've been too weird without one and i refuse to use y/n, dialogue-heavy but it is a fic about a podcast, everyone is down horrendous, mentions of social media & fake r*ddit posts, ex-boyfriend yoongi but in a good, healthy way. let me know if i missed anything but mostly this is just two goofballs not realizing they're in love with one another. smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected vaginal sex (fiction), protected vaginal sex (nonfiction), a lil squirting, mild degradation, mentions of a p*ss kink but there is no actual pee i promise (...lest?), i didn't intend to write size kink but it's namjoon so it just showed up anyway, slight dom!joon, everyone orgasms. wordcount: 17.5k credits: this was entirely inspired by that one episode of the basement yard where frankie reads the smut fic of him and joe, so credits to both that author and that podcast. spotify, for their podcast name generator. astro-seek for helping me drag namjoon astrologically. an extra special, gigantic thanks to @effortandmore for writing the meta fanfic (3k of it, no less!) and not batting an eye when i said it could have pee in it as a joke. this is as much yours as it is mine. finally, @hot-soop and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me and telling me i'm funny. author's note: happy birthday, indigo! here i am to validate every fear you've ever had that the people you write porn about may one day read it. live and on air. :)

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years.

You can learn a lot about a guy in that amount of time.

None of it is especially salacious. You know all about his family and his dog and the brand of recycled paper towels he insists on buying in bulk. You know what he’d written his grad school thesis on and what he’d looked like in the thick of it, when he was staving off his fifth mental break of the week. You know how fidgety he gets when it’s closing in on Friday night and he’s got a date—how much he stresses over which restaurant to pick, which cologne, which expensive cashmere sweater to wear.

You also know what the internet thinks about him. Intimately.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is peak husband material. He has cheeks ripe for pinching and thighs small countries would go to war to defend. He has a lap that doubles as a seat and dimples people want to get baptized in. He has Instagram selfies with hundreds of thousands of likes and comment sections full of intelligible keysmashes, especially the ones he posts from the gym.

Kim Namjoon, according to the internet, is a man written by a woman.

Looking at him now, you aren’t sure that’s true, you think people just need to raise their standards. Namjoon is just… Namjoon. He’s intelligent and kind and up to date on modern feminist theory, is all. And, sure, maybe in the current political landscape that puts him far above the rest of men, but the way the internet has latched onto him is a little concerning.

“There’s another post about whether or not we’re dating,” you say, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

sooo let’s be real here, we ALL think they’re dating, right?? Posted by u/pod-shipper 2 hours ago

Just like he always does, Namjoon huffs out a soft laugh, makes his way around to your side of the table. Puts his large hands on your shoulders as he leans in close to read from your screen, snorting every time he reads a sentence he finds particularly amusing. Whichever cologne he’d chosen this morning is, admittedly, very nice.

It’s sooo obvious, especially in the episodes they film and post on YouTube. The way they look at each other?? I don’t even look at my HUSBAND like that! (+1264) ↳ omg ur sooooo right! i could MAYBE buy that they aren’t full on dating, but they’ve def at least slept together. Namjoon is so 🔥🔥🔥 (+791) ↳ um how can namjoon be dating her when he’s already married to me 😌💅 (+3) ↳ For the millionth time, can we not speculate on their personal lives? This is weird and reinforces really harmful ideas that men and women can’t just be friends. (-51)

“How come they never talk about how hot you are?”

You can tell by the look on Namjoon’s face that he hadn’t meant to say that—or, if he did, he didn’t mean to say it like that, with an entire pout, eyebrows raised nearly to his hairline. “Cursed to be ugly and dumb,” you joke to ease the sudden tension, reading the comment that simply says you’d have to be the dumbest person alive to not sleep with Namjoon.

He scrunches his nose at that. Returns to his side of the table. “Yeah, I don’t think so, lots of people haven’t slept with me.” Starts to unpack all the gear from his bag before he says, “Hey, all that stuff—does it bother you?”

“What do you mean?” you answer, the corner of a protein bar stuck in your mouth. Namjoon always insists on recording at the most inconvenient times.

“People thinking we’re together,” he clarifies.

You shrug. “I dunno. Not really. Comes with the territory, I think, not to mention how much you love to overshare—”

“Hello?”

“I’m just saying,” you retort, hands raised in self-defense. “There really was no need for you to mention you blew your grad school stipend on a porn scam.” Namjoon looks affronted, like he can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to bring that up. “Or that you lost your virginity at fifteen.”

“We have a relationship podcast,” he states simply. “That’s kind of what we do, right? Talk about relationships? And the spectrum of human sexuality is part of that.”

You slump back in your chair as you quirk an eyebrow. “No one said it wasn’t, I just said you overshare. Which you do.”

“And that’s why there’s a dozen Reddit posts a week discussing whether or not we’re dating? Because I overshare?”

“Yeah, exactly. That’s the kind of behavior that leads to parasocial relationships. People latch onto that shit. Makes them think they’re your friend.” He glares. “Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right. It’s bad enough you’ve word-vomited all this highly personal information about yourself, but to not even do it under a pseudonym? It’s like you’re begging for trouble.”

Another comment he doesn’t even realize he’s making: “I don’t beg. For anything.”

To this day, you’re not sure why Namjoon asked you to co-host a podcast with him.

His reasoning had been simple: “You’re my best friend and we don’t agree on anything.” Hard to argue with that. Namjoon has seemingly endless patience, even in the face of things he shouldn’t entertain, and you… do not, to put it simply.

You’re not a cold person. Your fuse isn’t short. You’re just a little jaded, is all. Have far less propensity for bullshit than Namjoon does, so the two of you play well off each other. You end a sentence with a well-punctuated full stop and Namjoon’s right behind you to sigh and say maybe you shouldn’t be so hasty, not everything in the world can be so black or white.

Except some things are. Somewhere along the way, the podcast—which Namjoon had affectionately named Place Him Gently in the Garbage, even though some people should be shoved in there with force—had picked up a following. A big one. And now, every week, you’re inundated with emails ranging in severity. Sometimes people just want to vent after their tenth bad date in a row or share funny stories, and Namjoon lets you take the lead on those, but sometimes it’s a little more serious. That’s where Namjoon shines, all that endless patience, and people love him for it.

“What’s on the agenda today?” he asks, accepting a thick stack of papers from Jungkook.

Ah, Jungkook.

You aren’t sure what he actually does. Some kind of social media manager, which is obvious from the wildly out-of-context clips he posts of you to TikTok, and it’s his responsibility to go through the thousands of emails you get from listeners, but aside from that all you’ve got are your suspicions that he just sticks around to swindle Namjoon out of more and more money.

“I’m in a silly goofy mood,” comes Jungkook’s reply, and you let out a witch cackle as Namjoon winces. Nothing good ever comes of Jungkook being in a silly goofy mood, and that’s quite alright by you.

Fifteen minutes later finds you with a camera in your face that you greet with an unamused, flat stare. Jungkook is used to it by now. Just films for a few seconds before turning his attention to an unaware Namjoon. Head down, pen and highlighter going a mile a minute as he pores over the stack of papers with all the doggedness and eagle-eyed stare of a literature professor.

That’s the thing about Namjoon—he takes this really seriously. So do you, but not in the ways Namjoon does. He’s all skill and determination and you’re color commentary. It works. It clearly works, so you aren’t too bent out of shape about it, but sometimes you worry. Namjoon takes this really seriously and sometimes you worry that he takes it too seriously, that he carries the burdens and worries of all these strangers, that he’s trying to solve and fix things that aren’t his responsibility to solve and fix.

So he takes it really seriously and you don’t take it as seriously as you maybe should, and everything is by design. Balanced.

Twenty minutes later finds you staring across the table at Namjoon, who asks, “Are you ready?” and does one last equipment check before he launches into, “Welcome back to another episode of Place Him Gently in the Garbage with Namjoon and Piper. What’s new with you, Pipe? Any fun news?”

Pipe. It drives you nuts. Feels like nails on a chalkboard. “I see you almost every single day,” you respond dryly. “But for the sake of entertainment, I’m thinking about getting a cat.”

“A cat?” Namjoon parrots, and his eyebrows disappear beneath his fringe because he knows what that means.

You’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, but you’ve known him even longer.

Since your first year of college, which is also when you met Yoongi. Yoongi, your ex. Yoongi, the person you’d been with for six years and had planned a life around. Yoongi, now one of your closest friends, because the two of you still love one another but no longer in that way, which is fine. But also—Yoongi, allergic to cats.

So, yeah. Namjoon knows what that means, and he has the good sense not to mention it. Unlike him, you’re intensely private and keep your cards close to your chest. Your listeners don’t even know your real name, let alone that you’d gone through a breakup a year ago.

“What kind of cat?” he continues, like his entire world hasn’t just been turned upside-down.

You shrug. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably one that’s been in the shelter a long time, I guess. I’m not too fussy, you know?”

“Right, a cat is a cat,” Namjoon says, thinking he’s done something. You and Jungkook gasp at the same time. “What? Why are you giving me that look?”

“Because that’s a fucked up thing to say! A cat is not just a cat. They have little personalities, just like people. You’ve got—”

“But you just said you’re not fussy,” he interjects. “And I know they have personalities and that you have to find one that suits your lifestyle! Like, you can’t have one of those really cool cats that likes to go kayaking and shit, it’d never work—”

“What does that mean? Why couldn’t I have a cool cat?”

“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens,” Namjoon mocks, and you can tell he thinks he’s done something again, but his impression falls flatter than flat. An awkward silence fills the studio. He coughs. “Anyway. Do you have pictures?”

“Yeah. I also have a list of candidates ranked by how cool their names are. Number five, Casserole.”

“That’s cute.”

“Mhm,” you agree, “but Casserole is a kitten, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of responsibility.”

“They do say you should adopt kittens in pairs.”

“And that’s how they get you. You want one kitten and they talk you into two, and before you know it you’ve got, like, twelve cats. Number four, Party Girl.”

“Sick name.”

“Number three, Toddler.”

“Toddler?”

“Number two, Flat.”

“Just Flat? Understandable.”

“And, finally, number one: Human Torch.”

“Yoooo.” Namjoon laughs. “You have to adopt Human Torch. Let me see.” You pull up a picture on your phone and hand it over. “Okay, for our listeners—Human Torch is a young, male Domestic Short Hair. He has stripes. I don’t know what that’s called.”

“Tabby,” Jungkook chimes in.

“Jungkook says he’s a tabby. He’s cute. Adopt him.”

You return your phone to your pocket. “Maybe. I still think I want an older cat, but I’ll consider it. What about you, though? Any new dating horror stories to share?”

Ah, the dating horror stories. Your most dedicated shippers are convinced they’re fake, that Namjoon just makes them up on the spot to keep them off your trail. If only. Not in the if only they were fake and Namjoon and I were actually dating kind of way, but the holy shit one of my closest friends is a fucking disaster and it’s a little embarrassing kind of way.

“Not really,” he answers. “I’ve got a date this Friday, though. Trying to decide if dinner and a movie is too boring.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. What are you gonna see, My Big Fat Greek Wedding 3?”

“Three?” Namjoon emphasizes, truly sounding scandalized. “Since when are there three? I haven’t even seen one or two.”

“Okay, first of all, the original is a classic and it’s a crime you haven’t seen it.”

“And second of all?”

“There is no second of all. Repeat point one.”

He snorts. “I’m not gonna see that, anyway. Maybe the re-release of Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Subbed or dubbed, though?”

“Are you trying to get me canceled?”

“Absolutely.”

“I like both,” he chickens out. “Now, let’s stop wasting time and get to the point of the show.”

“Talking about cats is a waste of time?”

“I—no, we’ve just got a lot on the agenda today.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there’s lots to talk about on the celebrity front—”

Namjoon loves this part. As esteemed and educated as he is, not even he is immune to good old celebrity gossip. (Inside him there are two wolves.) Lives for it. Texts you about it at all hours of the night. Sends you links to Reddit threads with hundreds of comments. Has more opinions on Celebrity Big Brother than he does on Ludwig Wittgenstein, sometimes, and when that’s the case you know you’re in for a long evening. You’ve never even seen an episode of Celebrity Big Brother.

But Namjoon loves it, so you’ve become fond of it by association. Reminds you a bit of Yoongi and his love for sports and sports anime.

“—one should we start with?”

“Whatever you want,” you answer, because you haven’t been paying a lick of attention and you aren’t sure it matters anyway. Namjoon can talk to a wall on a good day, but he’s an entirely different beast once mundane, innocuous celeb gossip gets involved.

And even though you hadn’t been paying attention, it seems like this was the right thing to say, because Namjoon smiles so wide his dimples crater his face. “Cool. Let’s start with Taryn Manning. Did you see that bizarre—”

“Who?”

“What?”

“Who is Taryn Manning?”

Namjoon looks a little dumbstruck. Even Jungkook’s arching an eyebrow at you. “Are you serious? She was in Orange is the New Black and Crossroads.”

“The Britney Spears movie?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Weird, okay. Continue.”

Your co-host shoots you a very pointed look. “I will, thanks. Anyway, she posted a video on social media talking about this affair she had with a married man. Like, she pulled over on the side of the road to record this. Said she can’t stand the man’s wife because she called her a quote-unquote lunatic.”

“I—huh, thought we weren’t supposed to say that anymore. Alright.”

“But wait, it gets even more bizarre. Listen to this quote—and this is direct. This is a direct quote from the video, I can’t stop thinking about it: ‘Don’t you ever threaten me when your husband came to me to get his butthole licked.’ Can you—”

“What? Namjoon, what in the fuck—”

“It’s crazy, right? She was gonna buy this guy a boat.”

“Namjoon, this is a family show, you can’t just talk about ass-eating unprompted.”

“No it’s not.”

“Well, you still shouldn’t talk about ass-eating unprompted. It’s unbecoming.”

“You’re unbecoming,” Namjoon fires back, because he can’t help it. The words are out of his mouth before he can think. “Sorry, that was out of line.”

You sigh. Know whatever look Jungkook is catching on his camera right now is exasperated and pointed, the corners of your mouth probably tugged up just a hint. “Unbecoming, like I said.” Namjoon scoffs. “Anyway, so this actress was gonna buy this married guy a boat and was eating his ass?”

“Yeah. Apparently it was her friend’s husband? They all went to a Taylor Swift concert together.”

“Jesus, this keeps getting worse. Big year for Hollywood cheaters.”

“It is, right? Cheaters and divorces. Something in the water, I guess.”

“I saw the astrology girlies saying a bunch of planets are in retrograde, so—”

“Can you explain that to me? Like, what does it mean for a planet to be in retrograde? Why is it causing divorces?”

“I don’t know, I’m not an astrology girlie. That’s why I said the astrology girlies. What are your big three, though?”

“What’s that?”

“Your sun, moon, and rising signs.”

“How do I find that out?”

“Ugh,” you intone, “don’t worry about it, I’ll do it myself. What time were you born?”

Namjoon rattles off a time.

You grab your laptop. Pull up the page, type in Namjoon’s date of birth and birthplace, and wait. Then you’re staring at a circle with a bunch of lines in it that also don’t make a lick of sense to you. You roll your lips to keep from laughing and school your voice into something deadly serious. “Bad news: it says you’re a virgin.”

“Virgo,” Namjoon corrects, not taking the bait. “I already knew that.”

You scroll a little further down the page. “Your moon is in Sagittarius. Oh god, listen to this, they’ve got you pegged: ‘The greatest need is to always search for something. In order to feel safe you need a philosophy or belief’—”

“Haaa, that’s not—”

“—’You need to have a goal or mission that gives your life meaning. Your faith must be voluntary and it is a paradox that fighting against dogmas may lead you to other dogmas.’ Yeah, that’s you.”

“That could apply to anyone,” he argues. “There are seven-billion people on this planet; I’d imagine a sizable amount of them would say that also describes them.”

“Hm, sounds like your faith in astrology is not yet voluntary. Did you know you’re a Scorpio rising?”

“No. I’m sure you’re gonna tell me all about it, though.”

You smile. “Correct. ‘People with Scorpio on the Ascendant need to fight against dark and destructive power in their life.’ Is that true?”

“Yeah, you’re the dark and destructive power. You keep sidetracking me and we need to get to the point of the podcast.” He grabs the stack of papers Jungkook had given him. Looks more highlighter than paper, if you’re being honest. “I guess Jungkook thought we needed a lighthearted kind of day.”

“That was nice of him, considering what he gave us last week. I guess we’re allowed to have faith in humanity today.”

To your left, Jungkook scoffs.

“Alright,” Namjoon starts, putting on his Very Serious Podcast Guy voice, “first up we’ve got a question from one of our listeners in Canada. It says, ‘Hi, Piper and Namjoon. I recently agreed to go on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She said he was a bit old-fashioned but really talked him up so I thought I was in good hands—and then he showed up to get me in a ‘67 GTO and exclusively referred to me as doll. He didn’t use my name once. I’m torn, because he was really nice and I had a good time otherwise, but this is weird, right? Should I see him agai—’”

“No,” you interject.

“Can I finish?”

“You don’t have to. This guy sounds greasy.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “And why is that?”

“Ignoring the fact that this guy has arguably one of the lamest classic cars around, he didn’t use their name once? Not once, in all the time they spent together? That’s really disrespectful.”

“Some people are just pet name people,” Namjoon argues.

“With absolute strangers, though? It’s really giving the impression that he didn’t even know it, not to mention some people are uncomfortable with pet names. The whole shtick is super lame.”

“I agree it sounds a bit misguided, but—”

Ignoring Namjoon, you say, “Sorry you had to go on a date with the ghost of less-cool James Dean. Into the garbage he goes.”

And, just like he’s done a million times before, Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “If you really like this guy and want to see him again, a bit of communication will go a long way. Tell him the pet name made you uncomfortable—if it did—and offer to pick him up for the next date. I don’t think he’s completely destined for the garbage, yet.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t have a license. You probably think a 1967 Pontiac GTO is the pinnacle of romance. That’s probably like picking someone up on a Specialized Aethos to you, eh?”

“That’s a fifteen-thousand dollar bike, I’ll have you know.”

You groan. “Oh my god.”

Ep: #183 - Namjoon is a Virgin

I think Namjoon had the right idea on this one. Sure, the car can be considered lame, but I think a lot of men are deeply insecure and therefore overcompensate when it comes to dating. Women are hard to impress when they have unlimited options. You have to stand out, so I’m glad he advocated for him. Piper can come off like such a misandrist sometimes. (-649) ↳ just shut up bro namjoon would fuckin hate u (+204) ↳ Imagine caring about something like this when they’re getting a cat together 🙄 (+19)

You think about the cat thing for nearly a week.

Adopting a cat is certainly not the worst idea you’ve ever had, and truth be told it’s been a little lonely, living by yourself. No more Yoongi in your space; no more Holly. So, having a new little friend around might do you some good.

It’s just—

It’s a big commitment, and there’s also the dog sitting-shaped elephant in the room. Ending things on good terms means you’re still Yoongi’s second-choice sitter whenever he has to go out of town, and while you love Holly dearly (the two of you had adopted him together, after all), he’s a lot like his father in a lot of ways.

Should I get a cat, you type out, and it’s only been in Yoongi’s inbox a few seconds before the most unflattering picture you’ve ever taken of him is flashing across your screen.

“Are you dying?” you ask, because Yoongi doesn’t call you for much else.

And you already know what his response is going to be. “We’re all dying.”

“Lighten up, Yoongi. One might say being so existentially nihilistic before noon causes wrinkles.”

There’s a split-second pause. “It’s nine p.m.”

“Sure, but it’s before tomorrow’s noon, so it still counts.”

“Whatever. Listen, before you adopt that cat, I need a favor.”

“You going out of town again?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t be long, though. A week at the most, five days if I’m lucky.”

“That’s fine, bring him over whenever. Yijeong’s busy?”

This pause is far, far longer. “No,” comes Yoongi’s eventual response, but it’s slow. Unsure. A two-letter word has never taken so long to say in the history of ever. “He’s, uh. Coming with me?”

Oh, you think. This is where your ex awkwardly and hesitantly breaks the news of his new relationship. You’ve known this day was coming, and this is what you get for staying friends with him. “This is a fanfiction plot,” you accuse. “Hot, mysterious man moves into a gaudy apartment complex after ending a long-term relationship and meets his equally-hot and mysterious neighbor and they fall in love.”

“I—that’s not—my apartment is not gaudy.”

“Yes it is. There’s a giant gold bust of a weird bird in the lobby.”

“Weird bird?” he parrots. “It’s a swan.”

“I see you’re not denying the in-love-with-your-neighbor accusations.”

“Am I on trial?” Yoongi retorts, and it’s such a Yoongi thing to say when what he means is, is this okay? He means, are we able to talk about this without it being weird? He means, I won’t ever say as much out loud, but your acceptance means a lot to me, and I’d like for you to give me this.

So you lower your voice and soften the edges because it’s not really something to joke about, and you say, “No, of course you’re not on trial,” and Yoongi knows what you mean. “And if you were, you'd get locked up for fifty years. You can’t lie for shit.”

There’s a beat of silence before he clears his throat, mutters a thanks that is so quiet you almost don’t catch it. “Send me pictures of the cats.”

Later on, once you’re freshly-showered and tucked into bed with a candle and a book (Eloge de l’amour by Alain Badiou at Namjoon’s insistence and request), your phone buzzes with a text from Yoongi—

Yoongi: toddler is a fucking hilarious name for a cat but so is flat Yoongi: it’s a tie for me You: Okay well pick one 🙄 Yoongi: yijeong says get both You: Both???? Is he paying my vet bills? Yoongi: kinda out of line to proposition him for money. flat is also good with dogs, js You: If he’s now being raised by you two, my perfect, well-behaved son is probably long gone. Does he even count as a dog anymore? Yoongi: me and yijeong both say fuck off Yoongi: holly too. he says he doesn’t miss you anymore and he’s not coming over now Yoongi has added Yijeong to the group Yoongi has changed the group name to #ThirdWheelChat Yijeong: Please don’t drag me into this. Also I did not say “fuck off” You have changed the group name to People Who Have Seen Yoongi Naked Yoongi: fuck you

You should’ve known something was going on with Jungkook, because it’d started like this:

(When you and Namjoon started the podcast three years ago, it was in the living room of his apartment.

Surrounded by books and plants. He loved to record in the afternoons back then—Namjoon loved to say it was because of his grad school schedule, but you’ve always suspected he just wanted to preen in the golden hour light, much like he’s doing now.

“Is this really necessary?” Jungkook whines from his spot on the couch. He’s already swindled Namjoon out of two bags of microwavable popcorn and three cans of sparkling water. “It’s a Saturday afternoon; I could be doing something so much more fun than this.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Are you saying this isn’t fun?”

“Yeah. It sucks, actually. This could’ve been an email.”

And because Namjoon is accomplished, mature, and absolutely incapable of not taking Jungkook’s bait, the space between his brows creases as he sends a murderous glare Jungkook’s way. “Stop eating my food, then. And drinking my drinks. And lounging on my couch like that—”

“I’m not lounging,” Jungkook argues.

“You’re manspreading all over the leather!”

“This is how I sit!”

“Well, knock it off! My couch is only for fun and people who think I’m fun!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “So you fuck on it?”

“What?”

“What other fun things could you possibly do on a couch?”

Namjoon blinks. “Watch… watch a movie?”

Jungkook groans, throws himself backwards against the pillows as if he’s suffering a Victorian ailment. “Jesus. No wonder you can’t score a second date.”

“Okay, that was a little uncalled for. There are a ton of reasons a person might not want a second date, and no one is obligated to go out with me—”

“Uh-huh. Anyway—”

You clear your throat. Try to hide your own can of seltzer you’d taken from Namjoon’s fridge in the midst of his and Jungkook’s bickering. “Not trying to be rude, but I have an appointment at the shelter at three. If, y’know. You wouldn’t mind speeding this up a little.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course—”

“Oh, so you’ll speed this up for her but not—”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “She,” he begins, jerking his thumb in your direction, “isn’t needlessly complaining and actually has someplace to be.”)

It was just a quick little rendezvous in Namjoon’s living room to come up with a rough draft for the following month’s episodes. He couldn’t do it over text because he’d fallen down the steps at his office and landed on his ass on the corner of a step and his phone had been in his back pocket. Cracked clean in half. And he couldn’t do it over email because he—rightfully—knew Jungkook would ignore them because he has his inbox set up to send all of Namjoon’s personal emails to the trash.

But Jungkook holds onto things like that. Grudges. Loves to let Namjoon think bygones are bygones and pop up a few days later with some evil scheme. Hence:

“What is this?”

Jungkook smirks. Rocks back on his heels. “It’s fanfiction.”

“I can see that, but… why?”

This is where Jungkook shines: the ominous, cheshire cat grin; the aw, shucks demeanor that gaslights Namjoon into thinking Jungkook couldn’t possibly be fucking with him. “Well, you were having trouble coming up with ideas for episodes, and there’s an email in there from someone whose partner reads really expli—”

“Jungkook, this is fanfiction about me.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Of all the weird shit you’ve seen on the internet (and there’s been a lot), fanfiction of people you know—your friends—was something you’d managed to escape. Probably by virtue of not knowing anyone famous enough to warrant fanfiction being written about them.

But you should’ve known. You really, really should’ve known.

“Oh my god?”

You’re not sure who says it. Could be you or Namjoon, but the sentiment is the same. He mouths a what the fuck at you that’s met with a shrug. You’re in uncharted territory now, too. “Where did you even find this?” you ask, taking the stack of papers from Namjoon. “And why did you print it out?”

“Because I’m going to track down whoever wrote it and get them to autograph it. Then I’m going to buy a nice frame and hang it on the wall behind him, so we never forget this historical moment in Place Him Gently in the Garbage lore.”

“It’s a podcast,” Namjoon deadpans, “how can it have lore? And how much lore can there possibly be?”

“It’s the internet,” you concede. “The lore possibilities are endless. Don’t tempt them.”

Jungkook nods sagely, well-versed in the degeneracy of the internet. “Yeah, that’s how you end up with shit like 4chan.”

“4chan? There’s Space Jam porn on there.”

As the youngest, all Jungkook can do is roll his eyes. “Sometimes explaining this shit to you feels like trying to teach old people how to rotate PDFs—”

Namjoon scoffs. “I’m not that bad. I know how to rotate a PDF.”

Wow, Jungkook mouths. “Anyway, back to the fanfiction—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Namjoon interjects. He looks at you. “It’s weird, right? Like, it’s weird that people have written this about us?”

About us.

Your scope of the world narrows to the size of a pinhead. It’d just been about Namjoon before. This is fanfiction about me, he’d said, and you hadn’t been included in that. Now it’s written about us and you’re included.

“I—what?”

“It’s about us,” Namjoon repeats.

Jungkook rolls his lips. “It’s about the two of you fucking, to be specific.”

“Can you not—”

“Fucking a lot,” Jungkook continues. “So much fucking.”

Namjoon looks at you, and it’s all you can do to keep from laughing. The look on his face is pure bewilderment, both that Jungkook has cooked up this idea and is hell-bent on executing it and that he remains employed. And maybe it’s a little bit of nerves, too, because neither of you are ignorant of the risks. Reading fanfiction about yourselves—about the two of you as a couple, specifically, or at least two people who have sex—is weird. Not something you can unread.

And maybe it’s because you’re so determined to not make it weird that you send Namjoon a cheeky, exaggerated wink, shrug your shoulders, and say, “I’ll need a couple drinks, but I’m down.”

Jungkook throws his head back and cackles wildly, and that look of bewilderment on Namjoon’s face morphs into something else. Trepidation, maybe; definitely disbelief, because sometimes he lets himself get swept away in Jungkook’s schemes, but it’s rare that you follow suit.

As Jungkook continues to laugh, you wonder if you should’ve said no.

Namjoon has two stipulations: the two of you have to film the episode completely alone, and he, too, needs to be a little drunk.

The latter? Piece of cake, considering Namjoon has become some sort of whiskey aficionado in recent years. His drinking is streamlined and to the point—he knows exactly how much and what to drink to get him where he wants to be. You can’t say he isn’t efficient.

The former, though? Borderline impossible. From the second Namjoon states his terms, Jungkook is having none of it. Argues that he’s the one who found the story and the one who cleared it with the author, so he deserves to witness the fruits of his labor.

“No,” Namjoon repeats for the nth time, “no way. I’ll barely be able to do this with just her, let alone both of you.”

And that—that doesn’t bother you, right? You force a laugh, because why would it bother you?

There are few secrets between you and Namjoon, except your respective sex lives have been staunchly off-limits. Namjoon could be a virgin for all you know, and as you study him—the way he keeps bobbing his leg, the slight shake in his hands—you wonder if that’s the reason he’s being so weird about this.

It’s just a story.

Fiction.

Most people don’t have to worry about someone writing stories about them fucking their friends. If they do, you reckon even less actually read them. So, sure, it’s a little strange, but people from all over the world send in stranger stuff all the time, don’t they? It’s literally the reason you’re in this predicament.

Eventually Jungkook agrees. His whining has gotten him nowhere, so he just throws up his hands. Posts a cryptic little “u guys won’t believe what the next patreon ep is lmao” that sends the internet into a frenzy. Doubles your Patreon numbers almost immediately, and both you and Namjoon do a good job of pretending the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

Jesus. You have to read explicit fanfiction about yourselves. On camera.

Namjoon gets caught up with work and isn’t available until the weekend, so you’re forced to sit with the nerves for a few days. Not too bad at first, but you’re nearly coming out of your skin by Thursday with the need to know. You’re well-versed in the world of fanfiction, but this is fanfiction about you: your name, your likeness, maybe even your personality.

What will they know of Namjoon, though?

Will they get it right, the way he looks with his jaw clenched? How impossibly deep his voice can go, both when it’s raspy with sleep and when he’s fully at ease? Will the Namjoon in the story be closer to the Namjoon you know, or the version of himself he presents to the public?

And you’ve known him a long time—long enough that there are few secrets between you, but you don’t know the most intimate parts. All the parts the internet loves to speculate on. All the little gaps that, apparently, need to be filled in by fanfiction.

Will they know what Namjoon looks like when he gets off?

No, you scold yourself, jerking awkwardly like you’ve been burned, and neither will you.

Because you are not going to think about this. Your thoughts are not going to go there. Namjoon is your friend, and you’ve listened to him scold an endless amount of men on the podcast for exactly this behavior. Sexualizing their friends. You’re not going to do it, too.

Maybe that’s why you’re kind of seeing double when it comes time to record. Namjoon needed an extra shot and offered you one as well. You’d necked it without a second thought and now you’re here, trying to ignore the slight tilt of the room as Namjoon adjusts the camera.

“How’s the shot look?” he asks, gesturing vaguely behind him at his laptop screen because Jungkook had refused to lend you his fancy cameras if he wasn’t allowed to be involved.

It’s a completely normal question.

It’s a question you’ve asked and answered a million times.

Except—there’s something horribly distracting about Namjoon in this moment. The outline of his back muscles through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. The way the sleeves are tight around his biceps. He’s always been a gym rat, always carries around a protein shake that smells and looks completely foul, but you can’t remember it ever being this obvious.

And you take too long to answer, because Namjoon straightens up just enough to send you a concerned look. Which does not help. You are not imagining what else might cause his brows to pinch like that, what might have his lips parting, have sweat dotting his hairline.

You swallow. Hard.

“Looks fine,” you manage to say. He’s still staring. Are you on fire? You feel like you’re on fire, which would make sense. Would explain Namjoon’s sweating and concerned stare and the fact that he cannot stop staring at you. “Maybe a tiny bit to the right if we’re being picky,” you tack on, hoping it’ll break whatever spell the two of you are ensnared in.

It works. “To the—the right, yeah, makes sense,” he rambles.

He moves it an inch to the left.

—

Things are tense, to say the least.

Recording hasn’t been this awkward since your first episode, or maybe ever. You’re sat across from one another like you always are, and usually Namjoon would be making quip after quip by now, talking endlessly until Jungkook shushed him long enough to get the intro filmed. Now, there’s just silence.

“Should we…?” Namjoon startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table and drops a string of curses. “Sorry, are you—”

“I’m fine,” he says, cutting you off. He gestures vaguely toward the camera. “I’ll just… yeah.”

Showtime.

You wipe your hands on your jeans, unsure of when they got so damp. Unsure of when you’d grown so nervous, too, because you’d been fine an hour ago. Had strolled in with two cups of tea and a little too much confidence, giddy at what you were about to do.

Maybe the nerves had shown up alongside the alcohol. This sounds reasonable, and you do not, under any circumstance or for any reason, think about Namjoon’s back. Or his biceps.

Namjoon makes it through the intro, dimples deep and wide as he smiles, and you also don’t think about the way his voice cracks and gets a little breathy when he introduces you. It’s only because he’d been drinking, and the flush on his cheeks attests to that. The same flush that creeps down his neck, still a little sweaty; disappears beneath the hemline of his shirt.

“—Jungkook had. Right, Piper?”

Now it’s your turn to startle, and there’s not much you can do to hide the obvious except ask Namjoon to redo the shot. Because it’s bad enough the internet already overanalyzes every move you make, every word choice, every instance you’ve stared at Namjoon a second longer than they thought you would—this is a blatant display of… affectedness.

“Sorry,” you say, “I wasn't paying attention. Can we redo it?”

You’re expecting a playful scolding. A ha ha, get it together, because that’s what you usually get. But there’s nothing aside from Namjoon studying you and nodding. Asking if you’re okay. Saying, “Is this—this is weird, right? Is it too weird? Maybe we shouldn’t—”

An out. Namjoon is giving you an out, and you should take it, you know you should take it, so there’s absolutely no reason at all you shake your head and say, “No, no, it’s fine! I think I’m just a little, uh. Drunk?”

“Are you sure? We can—”

“It’s fine, Joon,” you insist. “Besides, it’ll be good content, right?”

“Good content,” he parrots. “Yeah, for sure.” He fidgets in his seat, runs his hands down the span of his thighs. Very, very thick thighs. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You faceplant onto the table as soon as he’s out of the room. When did his thighs get so thick?

But the water helps. Cures whatever strange, insatiable thirst has come over you, because you feel much more human after a few glasses. Less drunk, too, which makes sense. Yoongi could barely escape your drunken, horny wrath when the two of you were together, so you chalk it up to a Pavlovian response.

Namjoon does the intro again. Introduces you strong and steady, not a hint of nerves, and explains, with a fresh blush taking over his upper body, what the episode’s going to be about. “Someone wrote fanfiction about us,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, pretty explicit. Jungkook thought it’d be funny if we read it.”

You snort. “He might get fired, depending on how this goes.”

“He should get fired regardless,” Namjoon deadpans. “Anyway, we have permission from the author to read this so don’t come after us, and, as always, we’ll put all the credits in the video description.”

“Special shoutout to Jungkook, though, who was not allowed to be here with us for this momentous occasion.”

Namjoon laughs. “I’m sure he’s having plenty of fun at home.” You both pause. “That’s not—I’m not implying anything with that! I just meant—you know, like. He’s hanging out and enjoying his day off.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Moving on. I have two copies of this. Do you want your own?”

You grin, wicked and wide. “Nah, just read it to me.”

“Making me do all the work,” he huffs. “Typical.”

“There’s a stack of papers in front of you that might say otherwise.”

It’s clear you catch him off-guard. He cocks an eyebrow, opens and shuts his mouth a few times like a goldfish. An obvious question sits on the tip of his tongue: You think you’d be in charge? Instead he coughs, jerks his head to the side, and says, “I guess we’ll see.”

It sounds like a challenge.

Thirty seconds is all you get before Namjoon’s shuffling his stack of papers and clearing his throat. Asking if you’re ready and jumping right into it once you say you are. Reads the first few lines like they’re some old lecture notes, and they’re conservative and safe-for-work enough that you start to relax.

And then Namjoon reads, “A louder one wonders if Namjoon is a pet name person—if he’d call her ‘honey,’ or ‘gummy bear,’ ‘babe,’ or ‘baby,’” and you choke.

“Gummy bear?”

Namjoon laughs along with you—the weird one that almost sounds like a dog panting. “You want me to call you gummy bear?”

“I want you to call me a Lyft,” you snark. “I’m leaving.”

He continues:

And that’s how it starts, wandering thoughts, wandering fingers—the first time Piper comes to the thought of Namjoon calling her baby, pushing inside her, showing her that he definitely doesn’t beg, but she does… Well, she’s a little ashamed. She’s apparently got a reputation to maintain, anyway, not to mention a friendship.

His eyes leave the paper and lock onto you. “Or maybe you’d prefer baby?”

“Fuck off.”

Weeks after that first time, it’s become a habit, thinking about Namjoon as something more than a friend. It’s confusing and a little mortifying and it’s starting to affect her in ways she hadn’t expected. When they record, she feels fidgety—she’s jumpy when he gets close, has all the stupid obvious tells of an unwanted crush: her breath hitches when he whispers (why the fuck is he whispering in her ear, anyway? Doesn’t he know what that does to a person?) inside jokes to her so Jungkook can’t hear, her heart rate spikes when their fingers accidentally brush, she feels itchy and hot and a little embarrassed whenever he holds eye contact with her. It’s terrible, and it’s only made worse by the way he’s doing all of those things more than usual. Or, at least she thinks he is, thinks she’s not imagining the way his eyes linger on her more than she can remember happening before or the way she’s caught him staring at her lips when she chews on the end of her pencil mindlessly. 

You’ve completely forgotten how to breathe.

Namjoon’s staring again. You need to salvage this. He’s only on paragraph three and you’re already squirming in your chair and imagining things that are not appropriate. So you roll your lips, return his teasing. “Well? Do you stare at my lips?”

It works. “No,” he scowls.

“You sure?” you joke, morphing your face into something half-pout, half-duck face.

“We’re never gonna finish this if you keep making comments.”

“You started it,” you point out. “Go on, then.”

There’s some dialogue. Some prose that hits way too close to home, has you wondering who on earth wrote this and how they plucked every single thought from deep within your psyche. A pang of fear that maybe you haven’t been as subtle as you’d thought all these years. A moment to confirm to yourself that, no, you haven’t been harboring a secret, deeply-buried crush on Namjoon.

Then he reads—

And then he kisses her. It’s greedy and hot, his lips like a branding iron. She moans a little against her better judgment when he licks at the seam of her mouth, and in return, she can feel Namjoon’s lips curve into a smile against her own. It’s better than she’d been imagining it, really. He’s a good kisser—firm at the right times, soft when she needs it, careful but not cautious. He holds her jaw with one hand and keeps her right where he wants her beneath him (as if she’d want to move, anyway).  When their lips finally part, he rests his forehead on hers. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t expected, and he looks at her as if she’s the answer to every question. Finally, he whispers, “What’re we doing, Piper?” His lips are still wet and pink and a little swollen from kissing, and she barely hears the question—she’s too busy thinking about kissing him again, about pulling his plump bottom lip between her teeth, teasing and…  “Kissing,” she says finally.  “What do you want?” he asks, sinking to his knees in front of her. And if that alone isn’t an answer to his question… “Whatever you’re willing to give,” she replies. It feels like she’s wanted this forever, this and so much more. Once she got the idea in her head, it’s hard to know if she ever felt differently, ever truly thought they could just be friends. Or, if in the back of her mind, in the dark corners that she never lets see daylight, she always knew she wanted Namjoon. Always knew she loved him.

—and everything goes right out the fucking window.

Namjoon sits with those words for a moment. Scans the paper in his hands and frowns a little when he confirms what you already know. “The rest is, uh. Porn.”

“That is why we’re here.”

“Last chance to back out.”

“I’m not scared,” you lie. “Are you? You’re the one who keeps stalling.”

He huffs. “You’re a pain in my ass,” he retorts, and then nothing is all that funny anymore.

Because Namjoon was right: the rest is straight-up porn. He’s barely able to read the part where he goes down on you with a straight face, turning a deep shade of crimson. Stutters through the part where you pull his hair, and that is not something you needed to know about your friend. You think he loses his grasp of language entirely when he reads, “When he slides a long finger into her and brushes past her most sensitive spot, she arches into him and lets his name fall from her lips in a soft cry. Piper, notorious skeptic, is a babbling, trembling mess as she gets closer to her orgasm,” because all the words are garbled together, producing nothing but gibberish. You think he’s ready to keel over and die when he reads, “Namjoon pulls away briefly, lips slick with her juices, and licks over his top one, pausing to tell her how good she tastes before he dives back in.”

“That was nice of them to include. I appreciate their attention to detail in regards to my personal hygiene.”

“This is so embarrassing,” he whines.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Gimme. I’ll finish it.” He hands over the papers immediately.

Except you regret it immediately. The words you’re staring at are not words you ever thought you’d read or recite in your entire life. Not even for a million dollars. “Oh,” you say instead.

“See? Not as easy as it looks.”

“This is really embarrassing,” you confirm. “I might need another shot.”

“Y-yeah. Alcohol sounds good.”

Namjoon staggers forward obligingly, looks completely fucked out and pliant, willing to do whatever she asks. She remembers the sounds he made when she pulled his hair, wonders if he likes being bossed around, if he wants her to tell him what to do, to be a little mean to him. Maybe it’s different from her dreams, maybe he will beg her. She wants him so badly, she’d do anything for him. So, she pulls his briefs down to expose his absurdly large member, already mostly hard, and slaps it. Gently at first to see how he’ll react, and when he shudders and jerks his hips, she does it again, a little harder. “Look at you,” she whispers, “such a needy boy.”  He whimpers at that, eyes pleading. “Please, Piper…” he whines.   “Please what?” “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. She wants to, wants him so much, wants to feel him stretch her open, and from the looks of his cock, thick and long and drooling with precum, he could. “Should I?” she asks. She musters all her confidence to keep the condescending tone up. It feels wrong given how desperate she is to get him inside her, but it also seems to be getting him worked up and equally as desperate. “Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”  Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he begs, “I—I’ll fuck you so good, Piper…. I know how, I promise. Just… please?”

“Oh my god,” the two of you say in unison.

You so badly want to ask if this is biographical. How Namjoon feels about a little degradation; what he’d do if someone actually called his cock stupid. Ifsomeone has called his cock stupid. You dare a glance at him and conclude that someone’s had to. Namjoon just has that kind of energy.

But you can’t ask because it’d be weird, so you keep reading.

“How do you want me?” she asks softly when their lips part. There’s a wild look in his eyes, like he’s processing all the possible options out of everything he’s considered. And then it occurs to her. “Have you imagined this before? Thought about how you’d fuck me?” she teases him as she stands, stepping into him. Piper pushes one hand through his hair, brushing it back off of his forehead and wraps her other around his dick, squeezing a little for emphasis on her words. “Yes,” he groans as she strokes him, thumbing at the head of his cock. “Tell me what you want, then. Want me on all fours for you? Want me to show you how it’s done, to let you lay back and ride you so you don’t have to put in any work?” Namjoon’s breathing is getting heavy, pupils blown wider with each suggestion. 

“I told you!” you shriek, laughing in between the words. “I told you I’d…” And then your gloating tapers off, because what happens next has your brain malfunctioning.

“All of that,” he whines as she lets go of his hair and brings her hand down to run a fingertip over his perineum. “Want all of that. Want to bend you over the table and fuck you right here. Hear your sounds in the microphone.” Even in her dirtiest thoughts about him, she hadn’t considered the microphone, hadn’t considered recording it. When she thinks about it though, it makes sense. Namjoon is exactly the kind of person that would get off to someone’s voice. So, she does. She makes a show of turning around and slowly bending over the table, sliding her upper body across it carefully until she can reach her microphone and turn it on. When she says into it, “What’re you waiting for?” she sees over her shoulder the way that Namjoon shivers.

This is… not good. You’re never going to be able to look at a microphone the same way, which is extremely not good for a person who supplements their income with a very popular podcast that requires them to speak into a microphone for extended periods of time.

This is very, very bad.

Namjoon must be thinking the same, because he lets out a strangled a-haaa that’s less of a laugh and more a plea to God, the gods, the entire gamut of higher powers that might be able to save him. No one’s going to, you think, staring down at the paper again. This godless piece of fanfiction will be preserved on the internet forever, will be seared into your mind forever, and no amount of praying is going to erase it.

“I should, uh. Just read the rest, yeah? Get it over with?”

“Mhm. Yep. Yes, please.”

Don’t say please, you almost say. You can’t take it; not after what you’ve just read.

So you put on a show. Steel your expression and your nerves and take it seriously. Use voices and sound effects and desperately try to stave off the awkwardness you know is inevitable because a smut fic is probably only going to end one way, and that’s with you acting out Namjoon having an orgasm.

Maybe you’ll have another one, too, if the author is nice.

It’s sweet, she thinks, the way he’s easy for her, takes his time with her. Strokes his fingertips along her sides and kisses the back of her neck reverently. As much as she loves it, part of her hopes he’s not always like this—hopes he’ll give as good as he takes, hopes he’ll put her in her place. She can feel his cock hard against the cleft of her ass, not even inside her yet, and still, she thinks about next time and the time after that. “Still okay?” He breathes into her ear as his tip rubs against her cunt.  “Yeah—want you, Joon.”  “Never thought I’d hear you say those words.”  “I never thought you’d record them,” she teases, eyes glancing up to the flashing light showing the mic picking up all of this as he starts his slow slide into her.  Piper falls even further forward when he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest on the table. He’s whispering filth in her ear, about how he has something to prove, how she’ll never want anyone after this, how no one can fuck her the way he does.  She hates that he’s right.  Each stroke brings a new sensation: sparklers, butterflies, nerve endings on fire as he fucks into her and licks and sucks at her neck, her shoulders, her ear. Piper can’t even think, and this is what people mean when they talk about being fucked stupid, she decides.  It’s perfect.  Every time she thinks she’s getting close again, he changes something: fucks her a little shallower, moves his hips just a little, slows down, speeds up… It’s driving her crazy.  “Come on,” she whines. “I’m so close…” At least she can tell he is, too. No longer able to sustain the dirty talk, he’s breathing heavily, letting out broken moans and sighs of her name. He’s moving rhythmically now, thrusts consistently faster.  “Oh, fuck, Piper,” he groans, “Gonna cum.” One of his hands finds her clit and he rubs careful circles over her, bringing her to her peak along with him, no more teasing.  When she comes, it’s with a loud moan into the studio mic, and that seems to be what tips Namjoon over the edge, too. His hips stutter into hers as he comes, her cunt clenching around him for what feels like forever.

You deserve an award, you think. An Oscar. You didn’t even groan when you had to read the word “cunt,” and that’s a feat in and of itself.

“Is it over?” Namjoon asks, words muffled by the hands covering his face.

“Not quite,” you answer. “There’s some aftercare, and at the end you ask if I’ll piss on you.”

Namjoon gags. “I asked you what—”

“Today’s episode has been brought to you by Stamps-dot-com—”

HOLY SHIT THE NEW PATREON EPISODE???????? Posted by u/pod-shipper 4 minutes ago NO WAY. NOOOOOOO FUCKING WAY DUDE THERE’S NO FUCKING WAY THEY DID THIS AS AN ACTUAL EPISODE WHAT THE FUCK WHAT HTE FUCK WHAT EHTU FKF DFGLKDG;L (+705) I wasn’t sure if they were messing around before, and I was quite critical of the “shippers,” but now I’m pretty convinced. (+423) ↳ we’ve been telling y’all for YEARS 😤 (+197) ↳ Glad you’ve seen the light, u/RandomAcorn2058! (+5) ↳ ugh. they weren’t messing around before and they aren’t messing around now. do you guys not listen to what they say? namjoon’s been dating, and piper got out of a six-year relationship just over a year ago. if they’ve had something going on for “years” that means they’re both cheaters, and that’s a really shitty thing to assume about them. not to mention it makes the entire point of the podcast moot. (-63) Why do you guys think Jungkook “wasn’t allowed” to be there? (+314) ↳ So they could fuck lmao it’s so obvious (+329) ↳ because it’s awkward af? would you wanna read porn about yourself w all your coworkers in the room? (+2) ↳ the “it’s awkward” excuse is sooooo lame he’s the one who found it and is the one who edited the episode, he’s gonna see it regardless. (+15) ↳ Tbh I’m more curious about how he even found it to begin with? Do they have a throuple thing going on? Like, why was he looking for smut fic about his bosses? (+38)

You do not get through recording unscathed.

You are very scathed. Perhaps the most scathed a person has ever been.

Jungkook texts the group chat sporadically throughout the week, cracking jokes and making memes at your and Namjoon’s expense which is par for the course and shouldn’t have you off-kilter, but something inside you feels deeply wrong. Feels like someone’s given you devastating news; feels like it used to back in uni when you knew you’d failed an exam and were just waiting to see how badly.

It both helps and doesn’t that the internet is so invested. All the clips Jungkook keeps posting have re-doubled your Patreon numbers, and jumping up a tax bracket never hurt anyone, you included. But all of those jokes and memes largely went unanswered by both you and Namjoon, still too close to the incident to find the humor in it from the other side.

The two of you had sex.

Not literally, of course, but you figure you might as well have with the way you’re feeling. The way you’re avoiding one another. Someone wrote a story about the two of you having sex and you both read it and something about that, days later, feels really fucking unsettling.

In a bad way? You aren’t sure. It’s not like you’re mad or upset or any other synonym. You just feel… off. Itchy from the inside out, and that’s far from the norm in your and Namjoon’s friendship. In all the years you’ve known one another, you’ve never once avoided each other, including the time you’d set him up with a close friend and he showed up 45 minutes late to their date and ghosted after.

(Unsurprisingly, that friendship had not lasted.)

Maybe it’s because Yoongi had always been there as a buffer. You aren’t of the belief that men and women cannot be platonic friends, but being in a years-long committed relationship nixed a lot of awkward interactions and assumptions off the bat. Even Namjoon had known Yoongi first. Had introduced himself to you in your shared 100-level psych course with a, “Hey, you’re Min Yoongi’s girlfriend, right?” because they ran in the same underground circles and Namjoon had idolized him from afar for years.

Pretty fucked up, then, that Yoongi’s off in Los Angeles with his hot new boyfriend and you’re on your couch, Holly at your feet, pointedly ignoring your texts.

“I’m gonna get a cat,” you say to the dog, trying to redirect his attention when he starts chewing on your sock again. Holly doesn’t offer any input, of course, and he’s a lot like his father in that way. “I can’t believe you have a stepfather. You’re a proper child of divorce now, Min Holly.”

There are a pile of unread texts you continue to ignore in lieu of showing Holly pictures of adoptable cats. A few more memes from Jungkook, one from Namjoon’s new phone asking to move the recording date a few days because “something came up at work,” one from the food delivery service you admittedly use too much offering 10% off your next order, and two from Yoongi. This reminded me of you, the first one says beneath a picture of an ice cream cone on the ground, and another one of him holding a water gun that says send me a picture of my son or else.

You eventually reply back with a picture of your middle finger, Holly nothing but a blurred brown blob in the corner of the frame.

That’s how it goes for the better part of a week. Namjoon’s work issue lasts four days. He doesn’t offer an explanation and you don’t ask for one, you just wait for the all-clear text and try to quiet the nerves once you get it.

You’ve never been nervous to see Namjoon before.

The more popular the podcast became, the more money rolled in. The more money that rolled in, the more you could afford nicer things. That meant going from recording in Namjoon’s living room to a bona fide office space. Third floor, an expanse of windows and natural light, thirty-five minute commute by train.

Today, it feels more like thirty-five seconds.

You can hear Jungkook’s witch cackle from the stairwell, and your mind fills in the blanks of Namjoon’s exasperated sigh. It helps, your brain reminding you that you know these people. You know this is Jungkook’s late gym day, so he’ll be in a pair of sweats and a hoodie that drowns his frame. You know that when Namjoon has work issues and feels like an inconvenience, he always shows up with two boxes of baked goods from the bakery near his place, and you know both of them will save the best donut for you.

So you walk in and Jungkook’s in a hoodie and sweats just like you expect him to be, and there are two boxes of baked goods next to the coffee machine. Both of them say hello and wave and, for all intents and purposes, everything is normal.

Except it isn’t.

Because Namjoon looks… different.

Not in a bad way. Not in a bad way. He almost always dresses nicely, always looks polished and put-together, usually because he’s either going to or coming from campus—fitted shirts, either of the tee or dress variety, and earth-toned cardigans; tailored trousers that are sometimes corduroy; polished loafers. Sometimes, if he’s feeling extra casual, a stark white pair of tennis shoes.

Today, he wears none of those things.

No, today torture comes in the form of form-fitting jeans and a t-shirt a little oversized so he can roll the sleeves. His hair is brushed back off his face instead of parted down the middle. He’s wearing gold jewelry that glints in the sun. A pair of off-white Converse high-tops. And, much to your horror, he’s also wearing his glasses.

According to the internet, Kim Namjoon is peak husband material, which you can usually ignore, but not when he’s wearing glasses.

You avert your gaze, convinced you’ll burst into flames if you stare too long, not to mention Jungkook will notice and that’s a ribbing you’d rather die than take. So you avert your gaze and pointedly ignore Namjoon, who’s talking about his work crisis to no one in particular. Something about a co-worker going on an unexpectedly early paternity leave, and Namjoon being asked to cover some of his courses until they could find a more permanent fix.

Jungkook asks a question you don’t catch. Because paternity leave means his co-worker and his partner had a baby, presumably via old-fashioned methods, and it’s not a direct mention of sex but it’s close enough to send you into a coughing fit you have to blame on your donut. Neither of them buy it, but Namjoon is a good enough person to look genuinely concerned. Reaches out, probably to slap your back, but the thought of him touching you is just… too much.

So he barely gets out an, “Are you o—” before you choke down whatever’s left in your mouth and cut him off with a, “Yep, all good!” before you’re scurrying off to the opposite side of the room like a little rat.

It doesn’t get any better.

Both of you are so stilted and awkward during recording that Jungkook has to be the voice of reason and call it, suggest trying again tomorrow. Luckily he has enough b-side stuff he can release if need be, Namjoon’s work emergency providing a decent cover, and he sends the two of you home for the afternoon with all the exasperation and incredulity of a disappointed parent.

Thirty-five minutes back home.

Thirty-five minutes to sit in the embarrassment of not being able to do your job. Thirty-five minutes to catastrophize and wonder what you’re going to do if you can’t get it together. Namjoon will keep the podcast, of course; you’ll be replaced with someone else. Maybe someone less cynical, maybe someone more, but undoubtedly a man. After this mess, you can’t imagine Namjoon would want another female co-host.

But as embarrassed as you are, your traitorous brain keeps thinking about Namjoon.

Thirty-five minutes to think about his glasses and his rolled-up sleeves and the way the denim of his jeans contoured perfectly to his thighs. Thirty-five minutes to think about, “Please let me fuck you,” he begs. Thirty-five minutes to squeeze your thighs together and overanalyze the way he stumbled over his words today; how he could barely make eye contact. Thirty-five minutes to draft a dozen resignation texts and delete them all.

You groan, head thunking against the train window. You’ll take a cold shower as soon as you get home.

That’ll cure you.

You get home and walk Holly so long he gives up halfway through and you have to carry him back to your apartment. You take a cold shower and actually find it pleasant once the initial shock wears off, so it doesn’t work to keep all your rogue Namjoon thoughts at bay. You make a simple dinner and don’t think about Namjoon sitting you on the counter and having his way with you. You tuck yourself into bed far too early and consider going back to therapy, because clearly something very, very bad has happened to your psyche.

Needless to say, nothing cures you.

But it’s a new day, and you’re determined to get your shit together. Yesterday was a fluke, because you’re so normal and so capable of being in the same room as Kim Namjoon.

Except—you’re not.

Jungkook’s there when you arrive, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Barely looks up at you to say hello, and barely returns it when you do. You double-check the time, because you can count on two fingers the amount of times you’ve shown up and Namjoon wasn’t already there, jotting down extensively-detailed notes, circling and highlighting and chasing down Jungkook to ask questions.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Dunno. Not here.”

You roll your eyes. “Super helpful, thanks.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes right back. “You don’t pay me enough to also be his handler.”

You bite your tongue. Arguing with Jungkook means you’ve already lost the war. Not worth it. But it still eases your worries a bit that he doesn’t know any more than you do. That Namjoon hadn’t only texted him to say why he was running late because he didn’t want to—or couldn’t—talk to you.

So you wait. And you wait and you wait and you wait. Jungkook lets you talk to people on his dating apps and tells you about his new gym routine until your eyes are glazing over. Orders food delivery for the two of you because he gets hungry after an hour and had already eaten what was left of the snacks before you arrived. Cracks a joke that isn’t really a joke about calling the police, because Namjoon still hasn’t shown up and he hasn’t said anything and none of your texts are showing as delivered.

You’re halfway to hour two when the office door bursts open and Namjoon stumbles through, soaked with sweat and stammering over apologies.

“I am so sor—I broke my phone again so my alarm never went off and then I missed my bus? And apparently they’re not running the regular bus schedule today so the next one was a half-hour wait, but then I…”

You don’t catch the rest, because Namjoon is covered in sweat and breathing heavily and a week ago you could’ve survived this. A week ago you would’ve cracked a joke and handed him a towel and told him to get to work. A week ago you would not have been paralyzed in your seat, transfixed on the sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

You are fucked beyond belief.

Jungkook elbows you in the ribs, bringing you back to reality. “...even paying attention?” You startle, face warming in embarrassment. Namjoon still isn’t looking at you. “This is so sad to watch,” Jungkook mumbles, and thankfully it’s only loud enough for you to hear. “Like some stupid shit you only see in nature documentaries.”

Well, you can’t really argue with that, now can you?

But you’re a professional above all, so you hum an acknowledgment and take your regular seat. Pointedly ignore Jungkook. Wait for Namjoon to assume his position as well, and you’re surprised to see the space in front of him empty. No notes. No script. There’s just… nothing.

“Are you okay?” you ask, gesturing to the space in front of him when he seems confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a stack of notes in front of you.”

“I forgot them.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that, either.”

Your tone is light and airy, not at all accusing or confrontational, but Namjoon’s jaw clenches nonetheless. He scoffs, fires a shitty little, “Were you not paying attention when I was talking about what a horrible fucking morning I’ve had?” at you that makes even Jungkook flinch. A few moments of stunned silence, and then, “Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, that was rude—”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, and all of a sudden you feel too big for your body. Feel like there are ants beneath your skin, feel like everything is wrong, and you don’t want to be here anymore. “It’s fine. Let’s just—”

Namjoon looks like he wants to argue, but he just sighs and says, “I—yeah, okay.”

This is where Namjoon would usually launch into the intro, a dimpled smile already plastered on his face that’d drop as he discussed another failed first date with that brand of self-deprecation that makes him so endearing. This is where he’d say what have you been up to, Pipe, and you’d try not to groan because how hard could it possibly be to add one more letter, another syllable, but Namjoon seems incapable of it. This is the part that, for three years, has been seamless and easy and instinctual, just two friends having a conversation.

There’s a red light on your microphones that indicates you’re recording. It’s on and it mocks you, because Namjoon is not doing the intro or telling you about a failed date. He doesn’t use that cringey nickname. He doesn’t say anything at all. His mouth opens and shuts and no words come out. What’s worse is that you know exactly why he can’t speak, because you’re thinking about it, too.

“So, uh,” you begin, and Jungkook makes a gagging sound from behind you. “Come here often?”

Namjoon ignores you. “Right, right, the intro…” He sucks in a breath. “Welcome back to another episode of Put Him in the Trash, I’m—”

“Joon—”

“Namjoon, and my co-host here is—”

“Joon, that’s not—”

“Piper. Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s not the name of our podcast.”

“Huh?”

“You said Put Him in the Trash.” Namjoon just blinks. “It’s Place Him Gently in the Garbage.”

“Is it? Since when?”

“Since forever?”

He looks at Jungkook, who is hiding behind his hands. “Is she right?”

A beat of silence. “I can’t do this,” he half-shouts, half-whines. “Are you two going to be like this forever? Because if you are, I’m quitting. I’m so serious. I’m gonna quit. I can’t take it anymore. The two of you are insufferable.” Another beat of silence, before Jungkook stands at full height and lords over you and Namjoon. “Forget today. Just go home and try again on Monday. This is so—I’m seriously gonna quit.”

Yoongi comes on Saturday afternoon to pick up Holly.

Yijeong isn’t with him, which is almost disappointing. Now that he’s dating again, you were looking forward to seeing just how awkward it could get with the three of you in the same room, but he looks good. Refreshed. The trip clearly did a world of good for him, and you can’t even bring yourself to crack a joke at his expense.

He, however, has no such hang-ups. “You look like shit.”

“Weird way to say thank you.” You click your tongue and look down at Holly. “Do you see how your father treats me? You should bite him.”

“My son would never. But also, thank you.” He flops onto the sofa. “You do look like shit, though. You wanna talk about it?”

“Not with you, preferably.”

“Oh, gross, is it a dating thing, then?”

“I—no.” You pause. It’s not a dating thing, but you still feel like you’ve got motion sickness whenever you think about it. How would you even begin to explain this to Yoongi, anyway? Someone wrote a porn fic about me and Namjoon. You remember Namjoon, right? Namjoon, that I’ve known and have been friends with since college. Yeah, that Namjoon. Anyway, someone wrote fanfiction about us having sex, and it fucked me up so bad I can no longer be in the same room as him.

No fucking way.

“You look like you’re holding in a fart.”

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you. Did you just come here to insult me?”

He snorts, but his smirk dissipates a few seconds later, a familiar seriousness filling the void. “We’re okay, right? Was the Yijeong thing too soon?”

“No,” you answer immediately, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “We’re fine, and if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.” He still looks doubtful. “You want me to start singing ‘I Will Always Love You’ or something? It’s just… weird work stuff.”

“Depends. Are you singing the Dolly Parton or Whitney version? And real work or podcast work?”

“Podcast work, and obviously the Whitney version.”

Yoongi seems surprised by this, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe. “Like, the podcast with Namjoon?” He presses his tongue into the fat of his cheek when you nod your head. “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Like I said, it’s weird. It wasn’t, like, an argument or anything.”

“How weird?”

“You’re so fake, Min Yoongi. You act like you’re so distinguished and above drama, but really you’re just as hungry for gossip as the rest of us.”

He shrugs. “I’m not denying it.”

God help you, you’re going to rip off the band-aid. “Someone… Jesus, this is so embarrassing. Someone… wrote? Fanfiction? About us.”

“About you and Namjoon?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god—”

“About us… uh. Having sex? Specifically.”

“Oh my god—”

“Jungkook found it and thought it’d be funny if we read it for an episode.”

“Oh my god?”

“So we did? And it was really weird, which I expected, because I’ve known Namjoon for a long time, and I never, ever thought about having sex with him because we were together and me and Namjoon are friends, so yeah, it was fucking weird. But now… I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about it? And now we can’t even be in the same room as one another.” Yoongi is a concerning shade of red. “So our show is gonna get canceled, because we can only release b-side stuff for so long until people realize something’s up, and it was Namjoon’s podcast to begin with so obviously I’ll get fired—”

“Oh my god, you want to fuck Namjoon.”

Yoongi sounds like a strangled cat when he says this, which does not help the way you feel like you’ve been hit square in the face with a frying pan. “No,” you argue, though it sounds more like a question. You do not want to fuck Namjoon. “No, no. No. It’s just because it was weird.”

“Did you forget I dated you for six years? I know what you look like when you want to fuck someone.”

“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be weird if someone wrote fanfiction about you fucking your friend?”

“Not if I didn’t actually want to fuck them, no.”

“You’re a liar. Get your dog and get out of my apartment.”

Yoongi laughs as he stands. Pats you on the back in the most condescending way you’ve ever had someone pat you on the back. “Let me know how it goes. No need to give me credit for your moment of horny clarity.”

Min Yoongi is a bastard.

Unfortunately, as you come to find out, he’s also a correct bastard.

You want to fuck Namjoon.

Which is… not great, you have to admit, considering he can barely stand to be around you, so you take another cold shower and decide you’re going to take this to your grave. You’re going to spend the rest of the weekend getting your shit together, and you’re going to show up on Monday and be a consummate professional. You’re going to look at Namjoon and say, ha ha, isn’t it so funny someone thought we would have sex? I don’t think about it at all because I am so cool and normal about it.

You’ve got it all planned out. You’re going to show up fifteen minutes early with your own box of pastries. You’re going to look nice, if not a little pretentious—maybe a nice sweater. You’re going to be prepared with notes of your own. You might even be nice to the villain of the week so Namjoon doesn’t have to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh at you.

And then someone knocks on your door.

You find Namjoon on the other side, and all your plans immediately go to shit.

Has he always been this tall? You can’t remember. You can’t remember a lot of things, including how to speak, because Yoongi had launched you into a crisis of epic proportions and now here’s the source of it, standing right in front of you. With all of his… height. And thighs. And that heady, musky cologne he always wears, that you can still smell now even though there’s an unfortunate amount of distance between you.

“Uh, hi.”

You blink. “Hi,” you parrot, and it’s a little insulting how one single word seems to have sucked up all of your brainpower. “Namjoon,” you tack on, not awkward at all.

“Sorry to just show up,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. Very bad idea; makes his biceps bulge. You barely swallow your whimper. “It’s just—my phone’s still broken, and it felt bad leaving things how we did? So I was hoping we could talk.”

Talk. Namjoon wants to talk to you. Normally: not a problem. Currently: big problem. You manage a nod, open the door wider to let him in, and you don’t think about how jarring it is to have Namjoon in your space. You don’t think about how your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden, or what it’d be like if Namjoon bent you over the couch, or the kitchen counter, or the—

You cough. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Oh, sure. Maybe just some water if you have it.”

If you have it. What kind of person doesn’t have water? But you tell him to make himself comfortable and get him some anyway, and you mull too long over the size of the glass. Ultimately decide on a smaller one, because if things get unbearably awkward you can excuse yourself to the kitchen to get more.

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Namjoon says from the living room, and when you look up he’s sorting through a stack of books near the window. Some he’d lent you months ago, notes jotted in the corners, sticky notes in the shape of sea animals on important pages. “You ever wind up reading this?”

The Idiot. Namjoon had raved about it when he was in the midst of his 19th century Russian phase, right after he’d read a bunch of Tolstoy and Pushkin. You shake your head—though, judging from the title, you wonder if someone hadn’t written your biography.

“It’s good. If you have the time, you should definitely give it a shot.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, handing over his water. You take a seat in an armchair, pull your knees to your chest. Namjoon’s still looking through your books, isn’t looking at you, so it feels safe to say, “You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah.” He moves to sit on the floor, massive thighs spreading until he’s comfortable. Thank god he can’t see the look on your face. “I just wanted to make sure we’re alright. Things have felt pretty weird since we filmed the, uh.” He coughs. “Thing.”

“Right, yeah.” You realize he’s waiting for an answer, and you offer up a very rushed, “We’re fine, Joon.”

“Are you sure?”

Yeah, you’re sure: sure you absolutely cannot be having this conversation in the safety and sanctity of your own home. It’s tainted now, contaminated by all your uncontrolled horny thoughts about the man in front of you. You’ll have to fumigate. Might have to pick up and move, actually, or call an exorcist.

“I’m sure,” you assure him. “The… thing… was weird, but it’s fine. Temporary.”

“Do you think we shouldn’t have done it?”

That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Because, in isolation, reading a porn fic about yourselves wasn’t a big deal. No one got hurt. Everyone who needed to be consulted was consulted. The episode made the two of you a lot of money, and Jungkook even promised to send some of it to the author, so your bases are beyond covered.

So, should you have done it? There wasn’t a good enough reason not to, because the story itself was never the problem.

The problem is staring you right in the face. It’s sitting on your floor, a book cracked in half at the spine and forgotten in his lap. The problem is looking at you like you hold all the answers to the universe’s secrets, and it’s no small thing to be looked at like that. The problem is that Namjoon is looking at you like that from across the room but you’re wondering what it’d look like from on top of you.

The problem is that you’ve co-hosted a podcast with Namjoon for three years, have known him even longer, and you’ve just realized today that you want to have sex with him.

And you can’t say that, can you, because Namjoon came here to fix things which really does not lend itself to a hookup. Namjoon cares about your friendship and your working relationship so much he came here to try and salvage it, so you’re going to keep your mouth shut. You’re going to say, “I think it’s okay that we did,” and leave it at that. Because it is okay.

Because you’re the problem.

It feels like a small victory when Namjoon sags in relief. When he exhales and says, “Okay, good, because I think so, too.”

“It made us a lot of money,” you tack on.

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he laughs. “Right? Like, that was almost too much money. Just to watch us read porn?”

“About ourselves. I think that was the selling point.”

He stands. You do, too. “Never thought I’d be doing that,” he says, returning the book to where it belongs. “Definitely the most embarrassing thing I’ve done for money.”

“Being a man with a podcast wasn’t embarrassing enough?”

He snorts. Gets closer to the door. “Hey now.” You’re going to survive this. “Thanks for entertaining me, by the way. For a second there I was really worried we’d fucked it all up.”

Just the ending. Just one more thing to say and you’ll be done with this, and then you can take your third cold shower in recent memory and triple text Yoongi with a full-fledged mental breakdown. Maybe he’ll bring Holly back and you can register him as your emotional support animal.

And Namjoon must sense the awkwardness that’s crept back in, because he tries to cover it with a joke. Says, “Haaa, like you’d actually piss on me, right?”

Except it sounds like he’s got a mouth full of marbles.

It’s no wonder you mishear him.

Because he says like you’d actually piss on me but you hear like you’d actually kiss me, and there isn’t a universe that exists in which the following makes sense: you, stunned into silence in the doorframe, Namjoon saying his goodbyes, you thinking fuck it, last chance and saying, “Yeah, I’d kiss you.”

Namjoon stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

Your entire body is on fire. “Is, uh. Is that not what you said?”

“I don’t think it matters anymore what I said.”

“I’d argue that it does, for the sake of my digni—”

“You’d kiss me?” Namjoon… doesn’t look put off of the idea, which is surely a point in your favor. Interesting to note that his diction is crystal clear, now. Bastard. “You’d kiss me right now?”

There’s also no explanation for the way you say: “It’s only been an option for ten seconds and you’re already begging for it?”

You’d say there’s no explanation for the way Namjoon’s jaw clenches, the way he repeats I don’t beg for anything, but maybe the simple fact is: the two of you want to fuck each other. And, judging from the way Namjoon crowds your space, keeps dropping his gaze to your mouth, it seems very likely to happen.

All that fixating you’d done on Namjoon’s thighs was wasted, you think, as you take in the shape of his mouth. His lips. The way his tongue darts out to run along the bottom at the last second before he reaches out, tilts your head up, and finally presses his mouth to yours.

And you’ve got to laugh, because no piece of written fiction could ever accurately portray what it feels like. How soft his lips are. The way he touches you—gentle, but still dominant enough to have you moving the way he wants, have you backing up into your apartment so he can smile against your mouth as he closes the door behind him.

No piece of fiction would get it right, the way you’re unsteady on your feet, breathless at the way Namjoon’s kissing you. How he only breaks apart long enough to ask where do you want me in that throaty, deep voice of his. How you’re so overwhelmed you can’t decide: unsure if you want to waste the time it’d take to get to your bedroom, but if it’s only going to happen once, wanting to make it count.

So you decide to risk it. Plant your hands in the middle of his exceptionally broad chest and push him in the direction of the hallway, and if the two of you can’t wait, can’t control yourselves, well.

But the story had gotten one thing right: Namjoon does kiss like a branding iron, hot and greedy. Namjoon kisses you like there’s nothing else he wants to do in this lifetime, and it makes you dizzy. Has you off-kilter, stumbling into the wall as you try to remember where the fuck your bedroom is and why it’s so far. Just like the fictional version of you, you also moan when he licks into your mouth.

“Should I do it the way we did in the fic?” Namjoon asks as the two of you cross the threshold into your bedroom, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do it like this?” he questions, pushing you gently until you’re on the back in the middle of your bed, chest heaving as you lift your head to look at him.

Namjoon is so, so big from where you lay, just hovering at the foot of your bed. Cheeks ruddy, bulge prominent. “What’d you say you wanted?”

Takes a second to remember how to breathe, let alone what you’d read. What do you want, Namjoon had asked, right before he’d sank to his knees in front of you. “Whatever you’re willing to give,” you answer.

Namjoon smiles. Puts one knee on the bed, and the way it dips beneath his weight is unsettling. Why does he have to be so fucking large. “That’s right, baby.” Christ, you think, because there’s another thing that fic had gotten right. No one on earth would be immune to Namjoon calling them baby in that tone of voice.

The riposte biting at the back of your teeth gets swallowed whole as Namjoon grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “May I?” he asks, hands poised above the waistline of your leggings. You nod, and Namjoon drags down your underwear with them. “Fuck, look at you,” he groans, awe creeping into the edge of his words.

“You want me to do it the same way? Hm? You’re being awfully quiet; thought you were giving me shit about being the one in charge,” he chides.

Because you’re short-circuiting. Namjoon’s on his knees, just like you’d envisioned, and his mouth is dangerously close to your cunt. How can you be expected to think and speak under these conditions? But if Namjoon can find the brainpower to be a bastard, so can you, because what you’d read and the way he’d reacted can both never be forgotten. So you thread your hands into his hair and pull. The resulting moan is enough to sustain you for years.

“Are you gonna keep running your mouth, or are you gonna make me come on it?”

He blinks. “Jesus Christ.”

There’s precedent. Fictional Namjoon ate you out like a man starved, like he couldn’t get enough. Had fictional you writhing and insatiable, so it’s a lot to live up to, but it doesn’t deter him in the slightest. He hesitates for only a second, giving you one last chance to back out before the two of you set every last boundary on fire, and then he’s settling between your thighs and making you see stars.

Now you know what it’s like. Now you don’t have to rely on fiction, and it doesn’t matter because it’d never compare to the way Namjoon feels as he works to bring you to your ruin. The way he flattens his tongue to lick long, thick stripes; the way his lips suction around your clit. The way it feels when he groans against your core. The way he says, “Fuck, you do taste good,” like that’s a completely normal thing to say. Like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing to you.

But you need more and Namjoon knows it. His mouth doesn’t leave your cunt for a second, but his fingers find your mouth, so you put on a show. Wrap your lips around them, suck on them the way he’s doing to you, make sure they’re slick. Namjoon groans again, doubles his efforts. Slides one thick finger inside of you and barely lets you adjust before he’s adding a second.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Namjoon has you unraveling. Presses incessantly on a spot that has your vision whiting out. Has you trembling, a little panicked as you say, “Joon, fuck—Namjoon, wait—” as it builds and builds and builds.

You might black out for a second, because you come to and Namjoon looks… stunned. He looks like he can’t believe any of what just happened, and you blink a few times, try to come back into your body, and when you regain enough consciousness, you’re extremely aware of the large wet patch beneath you.

“Um—”

“Holy shit.”

“Namjoon, that’s not—that’s embarrassing—can you grab a—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Presses the taste of you into your skin, and all those silly protests die in your throat, because if Namjoon was needy before, he’s desperate now. Covers your body with his own, hips dipping down low enough to press his erection into the juncture of your thigh, and the weight of him is delicious. Has you fisting the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer, has you pulling it over his head, his pants following. Has your hands skimming down every thick part of his body until you reach his cock, hard and aching and slick with pre-cum.

“I need to suck you off later,” you say, done with overthinking. Time to just be honest, and Kim Namjoon has a dick you need to feel down your throat. “Remind me.”

He whines, thrusts into your hand a little harder. “How could I forget that?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t know if this would be the only time,” you answer. “Did you bring a condom?” Namjoon nods, fetches one from his wallet and rolls it on.

He hovers above you again. Looks nervous, all of a sudden, like he can’t tell his lefts from his rights. All out of sorts. You’re about to tell him it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to, don’t have to do anything at all, when he says, “It doesn’t have to be.” You just stare. “The only time.”

There’s a conversation to be had. You know that. Both of you clearly have feelings you need to talk about and sort out, but you reckon they can wait. They’ll still be there in the afterglow, in the morning. So you nod, say okay, Joon, and kiss away the insecurities that still linger.

You think about the fic. Think maybe Namjoon would appreciate it if you cracked a stupid joke, just like he’d tried to do earlier. “Has anyone ever called your cock stupid?”

He laughs, breath fanning against your skin. “No. Wanna try it and see what happens?”

Might as well. You try to remember the exaggerated tone of voice you’d used. Repeat the line—“Do you even know what to do with that big, stupid cock?”—and wait.

There’s a beat of silence, and then—

Namjoon swallows thickly. “I, um. Unfortunately, I think that really works for me.” You laugh. Pull him closer. Wrap your legs around his waist as he starts to move against you. Has jokes of his own. “Please. Please let me fuck you.”

You roll your eyes, laugh tapering into a giggle. “Do you know how?” Namjoon nods, looking all too much like a puppy eager to please its owner. “Do you promise?” He nods again. “Okay. Okay, come here.”

You expect him to move fast; expect the first time to be frenzied and a little awkward. It isn’t. Namjoon lines himself up and pushes the smallest bit inside, and then he’s leaning down to kiss you. Threads your fingers together, squeezes your hand. Pushes further inside and mumbles praise just beneath your ear.

It’s dizzying, the amount of care Namjoon handles you with. How soft he is. Does nothing to ease the discomfort of the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, but he talks you through it. Tells you how good you feel, how beautiful you look. Spills a lot of words you’d probably be embarrassed to hear and he’d be embarrassed to say if this was any other time, but in the heat of the moment it all just works to unravel you faster.

He bottoms out. “Okay?” he asks, and you’re rewarded with a dimpled smile when you say you are. Namjoon is a devastating kind of beautiful.

But, as he gives you time to adjust and you give him the all-clear, he also fucks like a demon. What once was hand-holding is now your wrists pinned to the bed, your body caged beneath him as he rolls his hips at a pace that has your eyes rolling back into your head. You’ve been deceived. Lured into a false sense of security.

It’s almost a shame this isn’t being recorded, because you want to memorize all the sounds Namjoon’s making. Want to hear them for the rest of your life. Don’t want anyone else to be the reason he sounds like this, and as he ups his pace and presses his lips to your neck, you don’t want to sound like this because of anyone else, either.

Maybe one of those times in the future, you can talk him into it.

Namjoon reaches down, rubs circles into your clit. Every time you think you might be close, he pulls his hand away, smiles like the devil. You let him have his fun for a while, let him think you’re keen to lie back and take it, and then you tighten your legs around his waist and flip him onto his back.

He doesn’t think it’s very funny. Looks up at you all bewildered. “What’re you—”

“You were taking too long,” you snark. “Figured I’d take matters into my own hands.”

“Yeah? Shit,” he says as you begin to move. “Fuck, baby, like that. Ride me just like that.”

You do. Don’t change a thing, because Namjoon’s cock is long and thick enough to hit exactly where you need it to. You can feel yourself clenching, feel yourself getting wetter, and the sight of Namjoon beneath you does nothing to stave off the inevitable. He looks even better than you’d imagined: skin flushed, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back, sweat-slick. You want to make him cry. Want to give him the entire world. You will.

Namjoon thrusts at the same time you roll your hips, and that’s what does it. Has you crying out, has stars flashing behind your eyelids. Has you saying fuck, fuck, fuck as he drives you over the edge for the second time. Has you on the brink of oversensitive as he thrusts a few more times to chase his own end, almost delirious at the way Namjoon moans as he spills into the condom.

Has you swooning, just a bit, at the dopey way Namjoon smiles at you, eyes half-lidded and crinkled at the corners.

“Was that okay?”

You snort. “Yeah, I’d say it was decent.”

“Maybe next time you could pee on me,” he jokes.

You whack him on the chest. “Sure. Or we could record it.”

Has you a little shocked at the way his cock twitches inside of you at the mention of it.

On Monday, you don’t wear a pretentious sweater.

When you stroll in, Jungkook’s already got the best donut shoved halfway into his mouth because he’s a shithead. He eyes you warily, probably hoping with all his hope that you spent the weekend finding God and getting your shit together.

And then he realizes you’ve got on Namjoon’s hoodie and he nearly chokes to death.

“What the fuck are you wearing—”

Namjoon appears at that very moment, and it’s so hard not to take credit for the way he’s glowing, the dazed smile on his face. But Jungkook notices, because Jungkook notices everything, and his gaze darts between the two of you: your hoodie, Namjoon’s face, your face. He opens his mouth, something inappropriate bound to spill out, but Namjoon beats him to the punch. “Ready?” he asks you, and you nod.

It’s seamless.

No hiccups, no awkward stuttering. Namjoon gets through the intro without a hitch, and it feels exactly like it used to. Just two friends having a conversation. It’s obvious Jungkook still wants to say something, but after suffering through last week, he stays quiet lest he makes it worse and sends the two of you back to the bad place.

“How was your weekend, Pipe? Do anything fun?” Namjoon rolls his lips, tries not to laugh.

So you play along. “No, not really, just some dog sitting. How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. Had another first date on Saturday.”

“Did you? How’d it go?”

“Perfect.”

It’s a blessing Jungkook isn’t filming this, because your eyebrows raise so far they nearly disappear from your face altogether. There isn’t even a hint of hesitation in Namjoon’s voice, and although you would’ve described it the same way, hearing him say it with such conviction has you a little stunned. “Wow. You gonna see her again?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon says, sharing a private smile with you. “I think I am.”

who the FUCK is namjoon dating Posted by u/pod-shipper 7 minutes ago This has honestly ruined my entire day. I thought all the stories he told about dating were a bit… Like, what kind of guy has a podcast about relationships but can’t seem to be in one? But you could just HEAR it in his voice how much he likes this woman he went on a date with over the weekend and I’m sick to my stomach. (+2195) ↳ bro you and me both 😭 i genuinely thought him and piper had something going on fr (+1302) ↳ Seriously might stop listening because of this! Any woman with self-respect would never let their partner host a podcast with someone they’re obviously in love with. If he gets serious with this woman, Piper will be gone within 6 months, mark my words. (+927) ↳ I wouldn’t worry about it too much! My cousin works at a really nice restaurant in the same city Namjoon lives in, and she said she saw this “date” on Saturday and that it wasn’t anything serious. (+788) ↳ Piper got a cat and Namjoon finally got a second date. Face it, it’s over. (+325) ↳ cannot believe him and piper aren’t dating.. do you think i should delete all my tiktok edits? (+4) ↳ this is unhinged lmfao i thought y’all hated piper? you’re in here bitching abt her being a “misandrist” every week and now ur gonna stop listening bc namjoon isn’t dating her? pick a lane and stay in it (-64)

Thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts, and reblogs/shares are always welcome! I appreciate you very much~ ♡

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #namjoon x you #namjoon x y/n #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jewel writes

[arminsumi]

i know you already made one but i NEED more mean dom! armin arlert to readd 🙏 it’s not a want anymore it’s a NEED for him to say the most evil, diabolically, appalling shit to my face. this man can destroy me however he wants. i need this man to degrade me so bad.

🔞 You're So Mean!

★ Note : mean dom armin? HMM. i cooked this up, hope it's nutritious!

★ Warnings : 🔞 MDNI/18+ "sl*t"/"wh*re"/"b*tch", dom!Armin, mean!Armin, condescending dirty talk, rough sex, toys, edging, he takes a pic of ur orgasm face, breeding, creampies

He has a cooing, sweet voice when he talks down at you after cumming all over your face.

"Aw, you look so sweet with your tongue out for me. Like a pathetic little puppy. Come crawl over onto my lap and lick me clean now."

You're riding his lap — sorry wait no, correction; he's making you ride his lap and practically bouncing you up and down on his cock. And you're just holding onto his shirt's suspenders, blanking on his cock as it hits deeper and harder with each thrust.

"Nasty fucking slut." he smiles cutely, "Listen to how loud that pussy is. You should be ashamed of how wet you are."

His tone sounds praising and you're so fucked-out when he's got you folded over and restrained over his desk. So you just think he's praising you, you're barely registering the vileness of his dirty talk.

"Baby, you're so pretty, 'm gonna breed your cunt tonight 'n put a baby in you. I think you'll like that, huh? Yeah a slutty little succubus like you loves creampies."

He especially loves taking you from the back, so he can grab your neck from the back and pull you back, forcing you to look up at him with teary eyes.

"Min, 'm gonna cum! Don't stop!" you cry. He just gives you this naughty smile, "Oh baby, bad girls don't deserve to cum. Maybe if you beg I'll change my mind, though. So beg."

"Please! Daddy!" you beg. He's awful, he uses your cock-drunk state to his advantage and makes you beg until your voice goes hoarse.

"That's it, keep begging like a god damn slut. Gonna make me blow my load inside you, pretty girl." he's edged you until your mind melted like a popsicle stick in the heat.

Your knees buckle, he has to keep you upright. His pale, soft hands come down to rub frantic circles at your clit. "Let's make that lil' clit feel good." he grins devilishly against your ear.

Oops! He edges you again and jerks his cock over your pussy 'till he cums, painting your slit white with creamy cum.

"Please! I was so close! I need—mmm fuck!" he shuts you up by stuffing a vibrator into your pussy and letting it buzz at max.

"Aw, I know you were close that's why I edged you, you dumb fucking slut. But look, I'll be a nice boy for you and let you cum this time as long as you tell me you love me, baby."

He almost laughs at how quickly you tell him your I love yous. Over and over. You're incoherent, hole clenching around the G-spot clit vibe, arching and thrusting your hips to help your orgasm along faster.

"Look at that slutty cunt working for its orgasm." he mocks, using one hand to spread your plush ass wide enough until both your holes are exposed. "You're so beautiful. Now you can cum baby, come on chase it like a good puppy and cum for me."

Your eyes roll back, you pant and make the most erotic expression as you cum which Armin mocks. He takes a picture of your cumming face and shows it to you as you come down from your orgasm.

"Isn't she a slutty bitch?" he smiles, then his thumb goes to press the little heart so that picture is favorited in his gallery.

"Miiin, you're so mean!" you complain half-heartedly.

"Yeah, well, you asked for it." he kisses your tear-stained cheek. "Not my fault I caught a kinky bitch, is it?"

Oops. Yeah well you can't deny it — you practically begged your nice boyfriend to degrade you, didn't you? He was so sweet in the beginning but now he loves fucking you until tears stream down your cheeks.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

#🔞.smut #armin #armin smut #armin arlert #armin arlert smut #aot smut #snk smut #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #armin x reader #armin x fem reader #armin x reader smut #armin arlert x reader

[danswideslit]

slime video analysed thru horror with a queer pov

kay it gets its own post because im stil aaa bout it

This is just what I remember/was able to brush up on, since I studied this in 2019, so if anything is outdated I apologise, feel free to correct me, I love to learn!!

also I realized it has all become a lil rambly as I couldn’t contain my excitement soz

So this is my essay on the parallels of queerness in the horror genre and how DanAndPhilCRAFTS - Slime (2024) could be analysed in this light, especially given the creators’ personal history with the topic.

Among the classic tropes of the horror genre, is the topic of losing ones innocence.

Most emphasised is the loss of ones virginity, as a synonym for the innocence, although the innocence as such has many forms. As mentioned in Scream (1996), you may not survive if you have sex, if you drink/do drugs, or if you claim to “be right back” or in other ways investigate to satisfy your own curiosity.

The parallels to the christian church and societal norms are already obvious. If you deviate from the path of purity, it will lead to death and suffering. The only way to survive the night, is to stay pure. Do not be tempted by mere curiosities, for they will be the death of you, essentially.

In the same light, Baphomet is most often portrayed with characteristics from both the male and female human anatomy, and can be used as a metaphor for the inherent evil of gender expressions beyond the societal norm.

In the same light, monsters in various movies are often shown with a deviance in gender and/or sexuality. This role of ‘sexual outsider’ has, for years, been a symbolism that queer people have connected with. The has only further skewed the ‘stay pure’ narrative, as it brings on an ambience of kill or be killed. An either/or of sorts. But it has also made monsters and villains walk the line between sexy and terrifying, which naturally leads people to be enticed. We are sexual creatures afterall.

Often the monsters have an aura of masculine energy, as they make people cower, and the stereotypical jocks abandon their hardcore exterior. This, on one hand birthed the “the boyfriend is the killer” trope, but it also gave way for diving into morality, how many crimes can a villain get away with, as long as the character resonates with the audience.

This is demonstrated in Jennifers Body (2009) which was, at first, marketed to the male audience, making the monster Jennifer an attractive young woman, essentially getting the film marked as “Twilight for boys” by film critic Robert Ebert.

The ratings, however, were lackluster and claimed the movie was neither funny nor scary and thus was unsuccessful. Jennifer wasn’t “as hot as you’d hope she’d be” and essentially the “lesbians-for-the-male-gaze” marketing to boys 17+ failed. 

However, many women and young girls between 17-25 saw the character of Jennifer as empowering and resonated with the film. My theory is that the men did not like being the victim, being killed my something that they are supposed to be worse than. But the women saw a strength in the conflict between what is essentially two sides of the same existence - on one hand the rage of the injustice and gender inequality, and on the other hand Needy, who follows every character trope connected to the “last girl standing.” Except even she is tainted in the end, killing Jennifer and losing her innocence. (more talk about innocence, murder/virginity bla bla bla, okay but this essay aint about that)

All this plays a role in how the queerness of DanAndPhilCRAFTS - slime (2024) can be interpreted. Throughout all four installments of the narrative, Dan is seen being guided by Phil and scolded when he doesn’t do it right. Phil seems not at all surprised when Dans glitter face turns satanic, and by the third video, Phil hands the control over as he gives himself away.

Essentially, the indoctrination of Dans role in Phils devotion is cult-like. Cults are often hidden behind a facade of “found family” before the true behind-the-scenes terror is revealed. Dan is evidently comfortable in letting a more experienced person guide the way, despite his own hesitance. He knows that he cant do this halfway.

also the idea of Phil rising from the dead, during Easter… Jesus Christ, where would we even begin (lol)

But beyond that symbolism, It is the hesitance in Dans nature that seems to point to the “purity being tainted” horror trope. Phils devotion to Him is evident, but Dan seems more so to be devoted to Phil. A follower. Believing whatever Phil believes to be true. A Billy and Stu, Scream situation, if you will. The subtext of two lovers and the blurred lines of love and death, which has been analysed and discussed a whole while by smarter people than me. 

Dans hesitance to follow Phil guiding him to the other (queer) side. The penetrative stab and the menacing disarray of emotions on Dans face afterwards. This was anything but a selfish act, but he gave into the curiosity, he is not the last survivor, he has joined Him. This ritual was giving into love, without trying to contain, rationalise, or diminish any part of it. 

(Kind of how like dan, selfproclaimidly, would still be a ‘Daniel in denial’ if Phil hadn’t come into his life, because Phil ‘led him astray’ but he’s very okay with it and he has embraced it, and he’s happier giving in instead of fighting it?? Too far??)

#dan #phil #dan and phil #dnp #daniel howell #amazingphil #danandphil #dan howell #dandandphilgames #danandphilcrafts

[wongyuseokie]

Your Loss | c.h.v | k.m.g | c.s.c | y.j.h | b.s.k 

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend and you broke up a few months ago, but you two remained friends, and of course, his nosy friends can’t help but pry and get as detailed as possible to find out what ended the relationship, and then, of course, offer to make only you feel better. However, they can. All while your ex-boyfriend watches. ☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕smut | ♥︎ completed Word Count:  2550 words

Pairing(s): Chwe Hansol x Female Reader | Choi Seungcheol x Female Reader | Yoon Jeonghan x Female Reader | Kim Mingyu x Female Reader | Boo Seungkwan x Female Reader Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): PWP, Smut. Content Warnings: Y/N is Vernon’s ex, and they ended on good terms, but the others are nosy. A few snappy comments, but nothing too toxic or emasculating. Mentions of alcohol. Seungkwan is a flirty lil’ shit. Vernon likes watching. 

Smut Warnings: Dom!Cheol, Dom!Mingyu, Dom!Jeonghan, Dom!Seungkwan. Unprotected sex (please don’t do this irl). Overstimulation, double penetration, breast & nipple play. Oral (m & f receiving), face riding, squirting. Mentions of public sex. Pet names (good boy, baby boy, pretty girl), praise kink. Pussy slapping. Cum play. Biting, it’s mild. Voyeur Vernon. Handjobs, cum swallowing. Sir kink. Name-calling (whore). Authors Note 1: This is a fic I wrote for my lovely soul mate @here4btsfics. I'm so glad to have you in my life, my love, you make every day brighter and happier. Thank you for being born, and thank you for letting me celebrate with you too 💕 Authors Note 2: Thank you so much to @duhnova & @the-boy-meets-evil for helping me beta this horny mess, and yelling at me (affectionately) for writing this!! 💕💕💕💕 Banner Credits: @classicscreations Cross Posted to AO3 © wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

“Is this okay?” Your ex-boyfriend, Vernon, asked as he poured you a glass of wine. You had invited him and his friends–well, they were your friends, but they were his friends first–over to your apartment because it had been a while since you all caught up. 

It had been six months since the breakup and six months since you last saw the others. 

“Yeah? We ended on good terms, and it’s not awkward, not for me. What about you?” You asked. 

“No, I’m glad we were mature about it.” 

“Me too,” Vernon agreed. 

“YOOOOO! Open the door, love birds!” You heard someone yell outside your front door and exchanged a look with Vernon. 

“Jeonghan,” you both mumbled at the same time. You cracked a grin before heading to your door to let the dramatic man in. 

“Hello gorgeous,” Jeonghan greeted, stepping into your apartment and engulfing you in a tight embrace. 

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted back, your voice muffled by his toned chest. 

“Ahem?” You heard Vernon interject. 

“Oh, quit it. We had to deal with this shit when you two were together,” Jeonghan dismissed, making you and Vernon crack a smile. 

“Now shall we drink? The others might be late,” Jeonghan offered, and you nodded. 

“Sure, let’s get drunk,” you joked. 

“God, I’ve missed this,” Jeonghan said, sipping his wine. 

“What, drinking?” You joked, and Jeonghan glared at you.

“No, smartass, I meant it’s nice drinking just the adults,” Jeonghan retorted, making you laugh. 

“And you’re an adult?” You teased, making Jeonghan glare at you.

“I swear you and Mingyu are the same age, though, mentally at least,” Jeonghan mumbled, making you laugh. 

“Shut up. He could never do the wonders that my tongue does,” Jeonghan said, making you bite your lip as you tried to imagine it. 

“Uh, too much information, Hyung,” Vernon mumbled. He didn’t mind the conversation, but the idea of you being orally pleasured made his pants tighten, especially if he could be a fly on the wall when it happened.  

“Meh, Y/N? Do you mind?” Jeonghan teased, and you just kept sipping your wine. 

“Ah, speechless, I like that,” Jeonghan teased, and you were about to scowl at him when the front door opened to reveal Seungkwan, Seungcheol, and Mingyu entering your apartment. 

“Sorry, we’re late, Y/N. We were working on a new track,” Seungkwan explained while you got up from the sofa to greet him, and he welcomed you into a hug, his large arms wrapping around you. 

“That’s okay. Can I at least get a sneak peek?” You asked, batting your eyelashes at him, and Seungkwan laughed. 

“Pretty girl, if you think I haven’t figured out your ways yet, you’re insane. No, you do not get a teaser,” Seungkwan said, and you pouted and got out of his arms to hug Seungcheol and Mingyu. 

Mingyu, energetic as always, practically carried you into his arms. 

“Gyu!” You squealed as Mingyu kept your feet off the ground.

“I’ve missed you, pretty girl. How have you been?” Mingyu asked, earning a smile from you. 

“I’m good, wait. You’ve missed me?” You asked, and Mingyu nodded. 

“Yup, well, not just me,” Mingyu said, making you giggle.

“Alright, are y’all done babbling?” Jeonghan interjected. “Can we drink?” He asked, huffing, and you smiled, nodding. 

A couple of hours passed, and most of you were at least three drinks in. The room became warmer, your lips became looser, and your thoughts became wilder. 

“So why’d you two break up?” Mingyu blurted out, making Vernon choke on his drink. 

“I guess we just decided we were better off as friends?” You suggested, unsure how to say, ‘we just fizzled out.’ 

“Yeah. No bad blood. She’s a sweetheart,” Vernon agreed. 

“Mhm, she does smell sweet too,” Jeonghan slurred slightly as he leaned into your side. 

“It’s my new perfume,” you answered. 

“Possibly, but I’m sure you would also taste very sweet,” Jeonghan flirted, making you grin. 

“That’s very true. You taste sweet,” Seungkwan agreed, and you stared at him. 

“How on earth would you know?” You asked, and Seungkwan grinned and turned to face your ex-boyfriend, who was turning beet red. 

“God, Y/N tastes so sweet, I could bury my tongue inside her and die a happy man,” Seungkwan mocked in a voice meant to sound like Vernon.

You gasped at Seungkwan’s words, which you guess were Vernon’s. 

“Vernon?” You asked. 

“Babe. I’m sorry. I thought this dude understood bro code,” Vernon mumbled, shooting Seungkwan a glare. 

“So, bad sex wasn’t the issue?” Seungcheol asked suddenly. 

“God no, the sex was amazing,” you admitted, the alcohol dissolving your filter. 

“What was a dirty secret of Vernon’s, one he won’t tell us?” Mingyu asked, wiggling his brows at you. 

“You guys are evil, and I’m not telling,” you replied, making Mingyu pout. 

“So, how good did she taste?” Mingyu asked, and you choked on your drink, and you were sure if they kept asking such questions, you’d end up choking on your drink all night long. 

“Sweet, like candy,” Vernon slurred, and you were tempted to throw something at your ex-boyfriend’s face to shut him up, but you’d be lying if you said the compliment didn’t flatter you. 

“Can I find out?” Mingyu asked, and all you could do was gawk at him and look at your ex-boyfriend, hoping Mingyu’s words wouldn’t start a fight. 

Instead, Vernon gave a lazy smile and leaned back in his seat. 

“Why don’t you ask her? I’m sure she’ll be happy to let you taste,” Vernon teased, and you snapped your legs shut, pressing your thighs together to get some relief. 

“Y/N? Can I taste you? I promise I’ll be good,” Mingyu said sincerely, his eyes hopeful and his gaze sinful. 

“Uh, I don’t see why not?” You offered slowly. 

“On one condition,” Vernon spoke. 

“Which is?” Mingyu asked. 

“I want to see,” Vernon said, and you gulped. 

“Shit, I think we found Vernon’s hidden kink. He’s a little vouyer,” Mingyu teased. 

“And you want to lick my ex’s pussy. Shall we get into your issues?” Vernon fired back, and Mingyu pouted and shook his head. 

“Y/N,” Vernon started to say, and you looked up at him. 

“Yes?” 

“Go over to Hyung, and give him a taste,” Vernon instructed, his voice smooth and husky. You nodded, downing your drink and got up, moved over to where Mingyu was sitting and placed yourself onto his lap. 

Mingyu reacted quicker, pulling you off his lap, placing you on the sofa, and making you yelp in the process as he got onto his knees. 

Mingyu smirked at you as he pulled your sweats and underwear off. You were already letting out a soft whimper, and Mingyu had barely touched you.  

“Pretty little pussy,” Mingyu praised, his hot breath on your cunt. 

“Gyu, please do something,” you begged, and a sharp slap to your cunt stopped your whimpers. 

“I’m not Gyu; I’m your Sir. Don’t fuck with me, princess, or you won’t cum,” Mingyu threatened, and you shook your head furiously, and you heard the faint groans of the other men in the room,

“Can you multitask, pretty princess?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded. 

“Good girl. Make Seungcheol Hyung cum, and I’ll make you cum,” Mingyu said, and you let out a soft moan before turning your head to see Seungcheol. 

Seungcheol was sitting next to you, and you turned your body, so your head was in his lap. You palmed his length, making him moan, and kept palming him until he hardened under your touch. 

You pulled his cock out of his grey sweats. You wrapped your mouth around his thick length, moaning as you tasted his arousal, and used your tongue to lap at it. 

“Princess, do you like sucking on Seungcheol Hyung’s cock?” Mingyu asked, and you whimpered, moaning around Seungcheol ’s cock, making Seungcheol grip your hair tighter as he thrust his cock further into your mouth, hissing as he did so.  

“Good girl,” Mingyu praised and finally placed his tongue on your cunt. Mingyu licked your pussy with short licks until his tongue finally reached your clit. You moaned more around Seungcheol’s cock, as Mingyu slid two long fingers into your cunt, while his tongue flicked your clit. 

You whimpered, trying to move your mouth away from Seungcheol ’s cock to moan, and Mingyu noticed, moving his mouth away immediately. 

“Until he cums down your greedy little throat, you do not move, understood?” Mingyu warned, making you whimper.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mingyu said with a proud smirk. 

You groaned and resumed your actions on Seungcheol’s cock, while Mingyu kept fingering you all while sucking on your clit with his tongue.  

“Make her cum Gyu, and cum inside her. I want to lick your cum out of her,” Seungcheol said breathlessly, making Mingyu grunt as he nodded, moving his mouth away from your cunt. 

“Fuck you are so sweet, princess. You need to ride my face sometime,” Mingyu said, making you shudder at the thought. 

You kept bobbing your head up and down Seungcheol ’s cock, until he stilled and came down your throat, a string of curse words leaving Seungcheol ’s lips as he came. 

“Good?” You asked Seungcheol, removing your mouth from his cock. Seungcheol nodded lazily, smiling fondly at you.  

“Amazing,” Seungcheol complimented, making you smile. 

Mingyu moved his mouth away from your cunt to pull you into a soft kiss.

You yelped suddenly when Mingyu grabbed your waist and flipped you onto your hands and knees. You felt him push his length into you. Mingyu’s thick length was a lot longer, which allowed his cock to hit deep inside you. 

“Vernon!” You gasped, suddenly realising that he was in the room, along with Jeonghan and Seungkwan, but your worries faded when you saw Vernon’s hand palming his clothed erection and a smirk, letting you know it was okay to continue. 

“Fucking hell. You’re perfect, baby,” Mingyu praised as you moaned as you fell forward as he constantly pounded his cock into you, hitting all the right spots inside you. 

“More”, you begged, and a sharp slap to your ass silenced you as Mingyu grabbed your hair, yanking you up, your back pressed against his chest. 

“I set the pace, pretty girl. You’re just my little whore,” Mingyu warned, making you whimper. 

“Sorry, Sir,” you mumbled, and Mingyu groaned in approval, pounding senselessly into you. 

“Good girl,” Mingyu praised, finally pushing you over the edge and making you cum. You felt someone’s tongue on your pussy, making you wail in pleasure, as you looked down to see Seungcheol sucking on your clit. 

Mingyu came soon after your release, groaning as he pulled out of you. Mingyu placed a kiss on your cheek and helped to position you on your back. 

“Good?” Mingyu asked, and you moaned out a ‘yes,’ followed by a yelp when you felt Seungcheol resume his assault on your cunt. 

Seungcheol started to lick your clit, moving his tongue inside your cunt to lick Mingyu’s cum out of you, making you shiver as you came again. Seungcheol gave your pussy a final kiss and pulled away, smirking at your ex-boyfriend, who was sitting in the corner of the room, his hand now under his jeans, cupping his hardened length. 

You felt yourself being woken up from your dream-like state when Seungkwan picked you up in his arms. Seungkwan carried you over and placed you down slowly onto Jeonghan ’s cock. You let out a hiss, already sensitive from your multiple orgasms. 

“God, you’re tight, and Mingyu, where are your manners? Not letting your Hyungs have a turn first?” Jeonghan asked, and you giggled. 

“Sorry, Hyung, but you know you can’t last that long, so if you went now, you’d be out,” Mingyu teased, making Jeonghan glare at the tall man. 

“If this kitten weren’t soaking my cock right now, you’d be a dead man,” Jeonghan threatened, and Mingyu shrugged. 

Jeonghan sighed, ignoring Mingyu and instead wrapped his hands around your waist, holding you still and placing a soft kiss on your lips. You weren’t sure when Seungkwan sat down next to you, but you whimpered when you felt his long fingers on your clit. 

“Fucking hell,” you moaned, falling into Jeonghan ’s toned chest. 

“Pretty girl, I’m going to fuck you along with Hyung. Will you let me?” Seungkwan asked, his hot breath on your neck, and you let out a muffled gasp before answering. 

“Yes,” you breathed out, and Seungkwan groaned, feeling his cock twitch, and he couldn't move quickly enough. 

“Hyung, can you lay down? I want to see if she can take both of us in one go?” Seungkwan asked, and Jeonghan groaned and nodded as he laid down on the couch carefully to never pull out of your tight cunt. 

“Good god,” Seungkwan groaned as he knelt between Jeonghan’s legs and positioned himself at your entrance, and pushed his thick cock in, resting it against Jeonghan’s. You moaned, found Jeonghan’s lips, and kissed him, gently biting and tugging his full lips, begging for more. 

Both men groaned, feeling how tight you were, hissing as their cocks rubbed against one another. Jeonghan started to thrust first, and Seungkwan followed after. 

Both men were close, and Seungkwan knew this and moved his hands down to massage Jeonghan ’s balls, making him whine and buck into you harder, causing you to collapse onto his chest as you came, making them both groan as you tightened around their cocks. 

You felt Seungkwan yank you into his embrace; your back pressed into his chest. 

“None of us are quite done with you, baby,” Seungkwan said, and you nodded lazily. You were pretty sure your limbs would be out of commission, but you didn’t care because the pleasure was overwhelmingly good. 

You turned your head to see Mingyu standing by your side and Seungcheol on the other, and you shakily reached to take Mingyu into your mouth while your hand stroked Seungcheol. 

The room was soon filled with sinful noises, groans, whines and whimpers. 

You screamed as you came again. This time after Jeonghan came inside you first, Seungkwan hissed, soon releasing in you as well. Both men continued to stay inside you while you moaned around Mingyu’s cock as his grip on your hair got tighter until he finally came, and you greedily swallowed his release. 

You moved your mouth off Mingyu’s cock and turned all your attention to Seungcheol and replaced your hand with your mouth, and sucked him until he, too, came down your throat. 

Mingyu and Seungcheol lay back on the sofa while Seungkwan and Jeonghan pulled out of you slowly while you laid back on the couch and were about to relax and recover. 

Jeonghan, however, had other plans and suddenly shoved three fingers into your cunt, while Seungkwan rubbed your clit, making you squirt and writhe as you came undone again. 

You shook, gasping as you curled into Jeonghan’s chest, who placed a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“So, round two?”  Jeonghan  joked, earning a glare from you. 

“I’m not opposed to it. Mind if I join the next time, kitten?” Vernon asked, his voice husky and low, and you gulped, nodding. 

“Mhm, please do.” 

#seventeen #seventeen fanfic #svthub #thekpopuniverse #indigo writes: scoups #indigo writes: mingyu #indigo writes: jeonghan #indigo writes: seungkwan #kvanity #seventeen smut #indigo writes: vernon

[moodywyrm]

Omg ellie and chubby reader just in general?!

Girl loves the way you look and I feel like she’d always wanna be touching you

Omg college au? She wants you at her dorm all. the. time. Just so she can feel up your pretty body and squish herself between your pretty boobas and/or thighs

Ellie Williams loves thick women. She told me so <3

She fucking adores you!! Thinks you're the sexiest, most gorgeous woman in the world and genuinely doesn't know how she managed to pull you because? Who knows man, she's Ellie Williams she could pull anyone. But loser college barista Ellie Williams? Dork central. Loser Rizz. (that's how she pulled you) (big fan of loser lesbians)

I know y'all know the trend of lanky gamer boys loving fat women, Ellie falls into a similar category. She fucking loves that you're bigger than her. Loves the weight of you on her lap, loves how soft you are, loves holding your curves. 80% of the time she's holding onto your soft hips, squishing at the plush fat. What can she say, it grounds her!

There are lil things about you that just make her dizzy and blushy, like the squish of your tummy when you wear crop tops, or jeans that dig into it, or bottoms that show it off. The first time you wore crop top to the cafe she nearly fainted because fucking Christ man. Or the softness of your arms! The way your thighs do the thing when you sit down! Absolutely enamored, I tell you.

Loves cuddling with you, especially during finals season. Like you're both stressed, you both need it, and what better way to destress than in the arms of your girlfriend! There have been so many instances where Ellie fell asleep on your lap or your tummy because she was so stressed with finals. poor baby :( physics is evil!

Also! Loves laying between your thighs, you're so right nonnie! Your thighs are just so big and soft and the perfect pillows and ear warmers for our girl :( how is she supposed to stay away from them? she's not! Loves holding them, pawing at them, is pretty much always gripping your thigh when she drives you around. They're just so nice!!

And your boobs! Any size boob. They're just so soft and sweet and perfect for biting! Ellie and her oral fixation, if you're a plus size girl it's just so so prevalent. Bites literally every inch of you. Covers you in hickies, including your hips! She chomps! She bites! Look at me and tell me she's not a biter. Look at me and lie to my face.

Speaking of faces. Ellie and face sitting. She has to Beg you to sit on her face, im talking on her knees pleading with you to sit on her face. You resist at first, because she's smaller than you and you don't wanna break her, but she can be very convincing <3

You try to hover and she fucking Yanks you down onto her waiting mouth, her deceptively strong arms keeping you pinned as she eats your pretty pussy. It's heaven for her, having all of your weight on her and having your cunt in her mouth. The soft weight of your thighs pressing against her, literally nothing could be better.

Or at least that's what she thinks, until you start shaking on top of her and cumming into her mouth, and Jesus fucking christ she has front row seats to the most beautiful display of pleasure she's ever seen. She's so in love dude, and your body makes her dizzy.

Ellie just. Ellie fucking Adores chubby women. So Much.

#anon #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #Ellie williams #Ellie Williams fluff #Ellie williams x reader fluff #Ellie williams x reader smut #Ellie williams x plus size reader #loser college barista ellie

[koifish67]

Overwatch x GN! Reader adopting a kid part 1

Tw mentions of vomit

(Since solider 76 is CANON gay, his section will have have he/him pronouns for you(

(The baby is a girl)

Mako is a good dad, a great dad even.

You’d think he’d get annoyed easily by the crying of the baby, but he simply will just scoop up the small human and cradle them ever so gently.

His nickname for his baby? “puawai iti” (little flower in the Māori language)

He’ll put his baby on his stomach with a hand on them and omg it so adorable.

You catch him staring at you while holding the baby, he’ll lie if you ask if he was smiling. (He 100% was)

When he’s out and about he has his baby in a sling on him, it has lil pachimari all over it. He also dresses her in a cute pachimari onesie!

Is scared to feed her but after you show him he’s a bit more confident. Does the airplane thing 100%.

Scared but happy, he genuinely is scared that he’ll accidentally hurt his baby by doing something stupid. But happy cause he finally gets to have a kid with you.

Makes baby clothes and it looks cute! Probably goes crazy when he sees baby shoes.

Puts all his dangerous explosive stuff on a very high shelf.

Cant change diapers for the life of him, like he will gag and vomit if he has to, so it’s your job now.

Giggles so much if she farts or burps, he takes videos of it and sends it to you with him giggling in the background.

Dresses her in very funny costumes and onesies.

ROADHOG BABYSITTIER!!!

Hanzo

Omg is so so happy he finally gets to have a kid with you. He always wanted a kid, and a kid with YOU, his dream is coming true.

When he finally gets to see his child, he starts crying and hugging you and his new baby girl.

Dresses his baby in cute little dresses! He found a cute dragon onesie and is obsessed with it.

Calls her “my little dragon”

Is a pro at feeding, changing diapers, calming her down, and making her laugh.

He spoils her so much that her room is engulfed with stuffed animals, blankets, and the cutest baby bottles.

The dragons love her, they cuddle her all the time.

Mcree

Is super excited, like omg I’m gonna be a father finally!

Dresses her in a lil cowboy hat sometimes it’s so cute, its brown with little bees on it. Has her own little cow boy boots to.

Feeds her like a pro!

Does that thing where she’ll toss her in the hair and catch her, gently of course.

If he’s out and about he has a baby carrier with horses all over it.

Doesn’t smoke when she’s with him, refuses it and will never do it. He actually stops a lot and rarely does in the future.

Has pictures of her and you in his hat, takes it out to show it off to his teammates.

“Look at my amazing husband/wife/partner and our baby!”

Calls her “my little cowgirl”

Doomfist

Very excited! He’s gonna be a dad! It makes him so happy to have a baby with you.

“I cant be evil today I’m to busy being a dad”

I’m sorry but he’s really bad at matching her outfits, but she’s dressed so it doesn’t really matter.

So gentle to her, he treats her like the most breakable glass in the world.

Lots of plushes, so many omg.

He makes her dance, like he does that thing where he moves her arms and legs to make her dance and it’s adorable.

Her first words are “dada” and he starts fucking sobbing.

Solider 76

OMG HES FINALLY A FUCKING DAD! He crys in your chest when that happens

Loves taking her around everywhere in a stroller, especially at the park when he’s on his daily run.

“Where’s the wife today?”

“My HUSBAND is at home making lunch.”

Mercy babysits for you

Stricks me as the guy who builds everything, like he built her crib, a shelf, her diaper changing paper.

Has 20 books on parenting, and asks Ana a lot of questions to.

Starts crying when she touches his face and giggles, his heart is all warm and fuzzy.

Goes to check ups with mercy with her

Dilf

Starts crying when she says her first words.

#gay fanfiction #mlm blog #overwatch #overwatch x male reader #overwatch x reader #junkrat #junkrat x reader #mlm fanfic #overwatch x you #roadhog x reader #doomfist x reader #doomfist #roadhog #hanzo x reader #Hanzo #mcree x reader #cole cassidy

[cer-rata]

Respawn is a conceptual fever dream. Like I don't believe that Ra's would clone a whole ass child just to torture and use to harvest organs from?? Like I'm not saying he isn't capable of that level of evil (though I don't think he SHOULD be), but that's not his brand of messed up. Random sadism? In my Ra's? Why do they keep trying to make alarming genetic experiments an al Ghul thing? Not to mention that it's just WASTEFUL to create a kid with Slade's abilities and just... Not do anything useful with him. Truly baffling trauma fodder character.

But...

He's a dumb lil baby with maybe one braincell. Like he's precious to the point where even Slade, canonical enemy to all children, especially his own, can't even treat him poorly. Or maybe that was just bad out of character writing, idk. Like he's based his entire personality on hating Damian because of his aforementioned insane backstory and even then he's not completely married to that, he has three vaguely antagonist conversations with him and he's like "Huh. Maybe I don't hate you as much as I thought I did." Like he's a disaster, a ridiculous ridiculous disaster and I should hate that he exists but he's just so endearing somehow. And then he dies, and then he inexplicably shows up at the end of Robin #17, and sure I guess his name IS respawn but still what? And then just doesn't show up for dark crisis for some reason even though his death was the inciting incident really and--

Just LOOK at him trying to be ominous. It's too late baby boy, we know you're a cringefail desperate for a hug, literally no one is afraid of you, come sit down and eat your applesauce. Like he's almost a better parody of Slade's brand of edge than Deadpool!

Your Honor, I love him??? His story is so bad but I love him???

#dc comics #respawn #slade wilson #damian wayne #dc editorial answer for your crimes #but let me have this

[themissinghand]

Dr. Stone: You're Crazy Like Me, Dumbass

Summary: In which Senku has an older sister (who is just as crazy as him...in a good way of course).

Note: Not related/connected to my current Dr. Stone fic on Wattpad at all. This is just for fun!

Warning: Swearing and lots and lots of sibling energy

"Did you know that some metals are soooo reactive that they can explode when they come in contact with water? Make sure you protect your manhood boy." 

The Kingdom of Science certainly did not expect a person to appear out of nowhere.

Especially hanging underside down from a tree.

"Who's that?!" Gen called out, his eyes already focused on the foreign woman. 

"An enemy?" Kohaku pulled out her sword whereas the Kinrou followed suit.

"Sister?" Senku whispered out, and everyone snapped their heads to see a dazed and disbelief expression on their leader's face.

"Yo!" The older responded with a cheeky grin, and a hand raised in the air.

She had her white hair tied up in a high ponytail, showcasing their family's signature green hair tips at the ends. A lone hair strip crossed her eyes and curved to her chin.

"Heh, isn't this the lil' shit? You grew!" She jumped down the tree and walked towards the group. 

"You guys know each other?" 

Senku rubbed his temples. 

"Yea. She's my older sister-" 

"Sister?!" The woman grinned as she stopped right in front of Senku, and they brofisted as if it was normal, then followed by a noogie. 

"O-Ouch! What the heck-" 

"It's been a while you lil' shit! I thought you would have died or buried ten feet under!" Senku pulled out of her grasp and deadpanned at her. 

"Ha, you wish. Where were you even? I tried looking for you and I couldn't-" 

"Oh I came here by skateboard-"

"Skateboard?! Did you just say SKATEBOARD?" Gen's screech was followed by dazed and confused villagers. She pointed to the huge skateboard made of wood?! How?

It doesn't even look like a normal skateboard, in fact, it could be deemed as a boat with wheels at this point.

"Yea, you see, I'm an engineer. So I make shit, attach shit, and fix shit."

She definitely got a crude mouth too; everyone thought at the same time. 

"Heh, as expected of the gorilla-" Senku was cut off by the pulling of his hair.

"Hey, shouldn't you be telling me what's going on? Since when did you have so many friends?" She scrutinized every single person around, and others shivered under her look.

"Oi! Stop that! I'll explain later, but we have a war to win!" Senku escaped and then gave her a evil smirk. 

"What'cha say we make an evil weapon? With you here..."

"Oh ho?" An evil aura burst forth from the two siblings. 

"Gen...we're so screwed." 

"Kohaku...we're fucked when he's already our last hope. And now, there's another one?" 

"You got an issue? Half and half?"

"Half and half-" Gen spluttered but swallowed his pride when he saw the toned muscles underneath her coat. 

"Not bad." Senku acknowledged with nod.

"Unlike you, I work out." She rolled her eyes in response.

"Anyway, where were you exactly?"

"In hell. But now that I'm here, looks like I've reach purgatory-OW!" Senku tased her on her sides, making her jump.

"You-" Before she could unleash her wraith, Senku stops her with a question.

"How did you find me?" Senku asks sternly, and the older sighed.

"Just exploring on my own and I decided that I should find you lil' shit. So I made myself some shit and before I know it, I spot a bunch of weirdos hoping around a big pot and a fucking leak-"

"Oh fuck you."

"Oops, can't hear you over your bushy hair."

Senku rolled his eyes.

"Idiot." 

"Leek."

"Baboon."

"Loverboy."

"What? Where did you even get that from!?" 

"What? You just looked like one." She simply shrugged with a cheeky grin.

"That's not a sight you see every day. Senku's outmatched." Gen mentioned, while he watched the two siblings bicker.

Kohaku simply laughs and shakes her head.

"He deserves it."

"I'm ten billion percent gonna throw you to the wolves!" Senku almost but roars with steam going out of his head.

"And I'm ten billion percent going to hull your ass to Antarctica!" She mimicked with a girly voice, the complete opposite of her natural deep one. She then looked at Kohaku with a smile. 

"You there, you're the lil' shit's wife?" 

"W-What? No!" 

"Well who gives a fuck. Anyway, explain this war to me. I'll help you guys out." 

"Really? That would be great!" 

"Yea, explain to me what's going on. And I also need names. I can't be calling ya lil' shit's gf can I?" 

"No thank you!" 

After a solid explanation of the current situation, Senku's sister tilted her head and yawned.

"So...we're going up against this dude who's like a bitchy communist dictator kid with Heracles's strength," She looked around at the group.

"And the mother fucker who's a huge hypocrite is reviving assholes of his liking in order to kill innocent children like y'all because he thinks technology is absolute shit."

Well that's one way to look at it. 

"Uh...translation please? What's a Heracles?" Chrome jumps in and asks while scratching his head.

"It's Tsukasa but stronger." Senku simply says, and Chrome and Kohaku accepts it without question.

Gen sighs.

"Senku...I'm pretty sure it's more than that..."

#dr stone #ishigami senku #drst #gen asagiri #kohaku #senku x reader #manga #anime #tsukasa shishio #season 1 #stone world #female reader

[suguwuus]

Could you write a connor x daughter of Athena. Where she has been at camp for a year, but they have known each other for about two weeks and he flirts a little too much in training and she thinks he is being mean. but in the end they make up.

★ nice

oh em gee my first req i feel like spongebob on his first day with his shiny lil spatula and squeaky shoes

p.s. so sorry this took so long i was so very sick when you sent it in and then exam week left me bruised and broken and so sleepy 😭

wc: 2.4k words

Who the Hades is this guy? Or more like, who the hell does this guy think he is?

You stared at the hunched-over figure wiping your bronze weapon down with a cloth, whistling as he went. It was too casual for someone like him to be doing something like that, especially with your weapon.

You recognized him as one of those Stoll brothers. They had been at camp for almost as long as you had, yet it seems that he's been popping up and about into your business these past few days. And he had been doing it a lot. Offering to carry your things, greeting you good morning and good night, even going so far as to try and make your bed for you. It was strange. Suspiciously strange. And you didn't trust him. From what you've heard and seen around camp, he was a prankster, an awfully resourceful two-faced troublemaker who could ruin your day with two paperclips and a cup of orange juice.

You thought he was no match for you, though. After all, you were equally crafty and clever as well, if not more than him. You thanked your mother, Athena, for both those skills and the grace to notice the signs this early on.

Gods, what was the purpose of all of this? You couldn't figure him out. You had some ideas, some guesses, but you couldn't pinpoint anything exactly. You needed direct contact with him; you needed to observe him up close so you could finally see his true intentions. Did he get bored and were you his new target? Was he doing this for a bet? Did you do something recently to catch his attention?

So, it was strange. Strange that you two have been skirting around each other for the past few years, not talking unless forced to and if you did, you only exchanged small talk. Why was he now all up in your business? Was he plotting something? You remembered when he put a tarantula in your half-sister Annabeth's bunk. You thought that was the last time you'd see those two boys.

"You look like you're plotting to kill him."

You jumped. Said Annabeth stood behind you, holding a plastic bag full of something you could only guess was your cabin's deposit of trash. Every other morning someone would do this to keep the cabin clean—and every morning Connor would greet you. Today, he added an offer to wipe your weapon down. You reluctantly agreed, vulnerable at 7 in the morning.

You knew you shouldn't be driven by rumors and gossip, shouldn't judge a book by its cover. But your overly paranoid self just refused to try and get to know the boy.

You pursed your lips and turned to Annabeth, sucking in a breath. "What's he like?" You asked.

"A little shit," Annabeth replied, and your heart sank. "But," she continued. "He's a reliable little shit. He's not evil or anything like that. He just has a talent for getting on people's nerves, him and Travis. It's a Hermes kid thing. Why?"

You glanced nervously to the side. "He's been doing the absolute most for me recently. Asking if I need help with anything, greeting me every time we see each other. We're not close. We're not even close to being close."

Annabeth took a few moments looking over at him as well, a small smile on her face. "Hmm. Well, I can't say anything for sure. But there's a very low chance he's doing this out of malice."

You cringed. "So..."

"Just wait and see where this goes," She advised, swinging the plastic bag. "If he hurts you, beat him up." Then she went away.

You scratched your head, starting to walk away from your cabin. That was...sort of helpful? No worries. You could handle this. It wasn't everyday you dealt with someone with the first name Connor and last name Stoll, but it wasn't everyday that you climbed the lava tower, either, no? And you survived that. So how hard could a boy be?

Quite hard, as it turned out to be.

You watched him stand up, stuffing the dirty cloth in his pocket. He then looked around the camp, walking in circles as if searching for someone. You knew he was looking for you, so when he turned in your direction you reluctantly waved a hand, but not enough to be obvious or easily noticed in the bustle of the camp.

When he spotted you, he jogged up to you like an excited dog, haphazardly swinging your weapon. He held it out with calloused hands. "Here!"

"Thanks. Erm, Connor." You added his name for good measure and took your weapon back. You inspected it quickly. No tampering, as far as you could see. It was clean, too. You looked back up at him and nodded. He had done a decent job. An honest, decent job?

"Did you just wake up?" He blurted out, sporting a smile that made you feel...what, self conscious? His words didn't help.

"No, I've been doing errands while waiting for you." You kept your answer plain and simple. "Why?" Without realizing it, you smoothed out your shirt.

He saw where your hands were going and chuckled, his eyes crinkling as if you just cracked a joke that amused him twice as much as the average pun did. "Don't worry, sunshine, you're not the ugliest thing I've seen in my life."

And the he walked away whistling, probably going off to tie someone's shoelaces together to trip them up. What the fuck? You thought, still processing what had just happened. What was that all about? Don't worry, sunshine?

You bet Apollo was laughing at you from Mount Olympus with the way the sunlight was shining right onto your face as Connor walked away, blinding you as you stood there in confusion.

You eyes searched the assortment of campers for Annabeth, some tiny bit of support you could anchor yourself to. She wasn't there. No striking grey eyes of hers among the orange shirts. You grit your teeth, accepting your defeat.

Well, not exactly your defeat. Not yet, at least. Hopefully not.

You gave Connor your best glare as he walked up to you in the middle of the arena. He swung his sword in his hand back and forth as if this was a game to him. Luckily for you, you also saw it as a game. A fun game to try and get to learn a thing or two about him. You wanted to observe him, close up? Here was your chance.

Sword practice. Sparring. Percy as the instructor overseeing the match. Perfect.

"Shake hands, guys," He said, standing between you and Connor. He then nodded at the boy. "No cheating, alright? No extra tricks."

"Yeah, yeah," He said, tapping his foot. You saw how he seemed almost giddy, but when he met your eyes, his smile melted and he cleared his throat.

You held a hand out. He shook it, not taking his eyes off you. He had a serious expression on, devoid of all humor or teases. "Nice shirt," he mumbled. And then he was off, stepping backwards until he was a reasonable distance away from you.

Shaking the confusion out of your head, you got into position, holding your weapon as you adjusted your stance.

Percy gave the signal and you two were off, celestial bronze clashing against one another. Your ears rung and you tried to not let the sun blind you.

Frustratingly enough, you couldn't observe much except for his physical traits (a light spray of freckles across his nose bridge, a nasty looking scar on his knee and a bruise on the other one, a hand with only one fingernail painted cherry red; unsurprisingly enough for a son of Hermes, he seemed to be ambidextrous) and that he was awfully talkative.

"I might have trouble focusing, but I'm multitasking right now, see? Your face is distracting, but I can handle it." "You're nice to look at when you're cornered like this, you know? Cute and mad, I should piss you off more!" "I really like your lack of enthusiasm all the time!"

Parry. Strike. Slash. Clang! The tip of his sword grazed your jaw and you swiped at his shins. Contrary to his blabber, you stayed silent except for grunts and the like, determined to finish him off.

Someone in the audience of campers yelled for Connor to focus. Instead he laughed. Soon you ended up with your weapons pressed against each other, screeching as the material of each grinded against one another. You were face to face with him now.

"You seem a little rusty, maybe you should consider practicing with me—"

That was your last straw. You pushed him back, so hard that you ended a few feet away from him, and charged, but at the last second swung to disarm him from his waiting sword instead of striking. With your momentum, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pushing his head upward, and stepped behind him, holding your weapon to his throat.

Victory.

"You know, I'd say something, but I don't think it's very audience friendly, I think it should be reserved for someplace without overbearing coordinators or nine year olds," He giggled.

You released him after Percy gave you the signal. Of course, you had to be somewhat polite. So you maneuvered his body so he was facing you, standing properly now. You took his clammy hand and shook it, looking him straight in the eye.

"Good duel," You said, nodding, chest still rising and falling from the intense practice match.

"Yeah, yeah, good duel," Connor replied, stumbling over his words. "Percy didn't...didn't have any comments for us, y-yeah, that's...that's good, right?"

You nodded again, and he let go of your hand, swallowing and glancing at the floor. He wet his lips, as if there was something he was itching to say, something stuck in his throat.

"You...you have nice eyes." He walked away with something you might have called a scurry.

Tilting your head in utter confusion, you heard a voice and felt a hand tap your shoulder. You turned around to see a little girl of about 12 years old. Strands of her dark hair stuck to her chubby cheeks from sweat. "Return the compliment. That's pamahiin, you know." She shot a cautious glance at Connor's turned back.

"It's what?"

"Superstition where someone curses you in the form of a compliment. He's been saying all kinds of things since the start of your match!"

"That doesn't sound like a Greek superstition to me. Where'd you hear that?" The girl left before you could finish. You shook your head. Silly kids.

You decided you had some business to attend to, so you jogged after Connor, following him down the path to the archery range.

"Hey," you called. "Connor!"

He slowly turned around, looking anxious. "...Yes?"

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You're being strange. You kept talking during sword practice—you never do it that much, and you keep offering to do things for me. Are you following me around? Why did you compliment my shirt out of the blue right before we started?"

His brain seemed to load. And then he smiled. "You watch me during sword practice?"

"Sometimes, when there's nothing else to watch. The point is, you're acting off!"

He cleared his throat. "Well, erm, you know, I've just been seeing you around and I wanted to get to know you more. Wait, I complimented your shirt? We're all wearing the same ones."

You stepped closer. "No, are you up to something? Trying to get under my skin? Everything you say is somewhat backhanded and it feels like you're planning to get me in trouble, or both of us in trouble. If you don't like me, just say it straight to my face." You clenched your fists as you finished.

His expression morphed and looked horrified. "Oh, my Gods. No, I'm sorry."

You stared hard, waiting for him to explain himself.

"Shit, Y/N. That, uh...that wasn't...oh man, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I mean, I am mouthy all the time, but I didn't want you to think of it like that! I do, I'm complimenting you, I guess we just don't match up in terms of what's a 'nice' gesture or not.

"I'll say it straight, then. I'm being nice to you, trying to say nice things. Because I think you're nice."

You raised a brow. "...Nice?"

"Yes, nice. And I really liked practicing with you. And greeting you in the morning and at night. And you. I like being nice to you even if you don't understand my little pickup lines sometimes."

"So you weren't trying to be mean?"

"No, absolutely not."

"Ah...okay. I see. That's...fair. I guess I was just paranoid." You slowly nodded, understanding his defense. You could see him nervously putting his thumbs through his belt loops.

"Mhm." He looked to the side. "Oh, and by the way, maybe the thing I said this morning was confusing, you're not ugly at all, I think you—everything about you, is very, pleasing to the eye."

You chuckled. "—Is nice."

He let out a relieved laugh at how you had caught on. "Yes, exactly that. Oh," He perked up, looking behind your shoulder. When you followed his gaze you saw some campers walking towards him, and they did not look very happy. He put his sword back into his scabbard and tied his shoelaces, which had come undone.

So he was a prankster. Obviously. But he wasn't as bad as you thought. Not mean, just a little mischievous at times. You definitely were just paranoid. It's not everyday you got that many compliments. Puzzling ones that needed comprehension, yet still compliments. And he was easy to talk to. Not mean at all. Come to think of it, you hadn't fallen victim to his or Travis's pranks lately, not in a long while—

"That's my cue," he reached over and awkwardly patted your shoulder, averting your gaze. Despite that, he was smiling ear-to-ear. "See you sometime, okay? Bye!"

"Bye...!" And he dashed away, leaving you beaming in amusement. Wait, pickup lines? Those were pickup lines to him?

Nice? Nice as in flirting?

#— suguwuu's posts #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #pjo #pjo oneshots #pjo x reader #OCHO MENTION 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 (no one here knows who she is) #merry christmas sorry this was saur late omfg #connor kissed me under the mistletoe stay safe yall xx #me when im delusional #guys im going delirious actually #charlie bushnell is so fine but i feel like im cheating on connor #girl that is NAWT your man that's his antagonist older half brother

[theplottdump]

ＳＩＤＥ ＰＬＯＴＴ - ＰＵＲＥ ＨＥＤＯＮＩＳＭ - PART 2 🔞 - 𝙶𝚎𝚗 𝟼: 𝚅𝚊𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚍 -

heat level: 🌶🌶🌶🌶🌶 (It's Smut with a Plot) content warnings: simdick, choking, graphic depictions of gay sex, I'm literally warning you now!!

Forward: This scene is something that I wanted to write anyway for the main plott eventually, and the PG-13 parts will end up popping up again in the main storyline - but for Valentines smut sake I thought it would be fun to jump ahead and take way farther than reasonably necessary. Godspeed. Don't say I didn't warn you.

PART ONE: ( The One with the Plott, Rating PG ) PART TWO: ( The One with the Smut, Rating R )

~ continued from part 1 ~

Leanne nodded a goodnight to her boys and left the room as wordlessly as she entered it. They might have taken the time to actually notice her departure if their eyes weren't fiercely locked on one another, both mentally preparing for the battle to come.

"Valerian, you're overreacting again." "Kindly explain how." "You're sure you want to do this right now?" "I'm not afraid of you darling."

Ask any couple about the secret to a long happy relationship and they'll likely explain the importance of communication and compromise. Sure, the two had their fair share of arguments and disagreements over the years, especially when it came to raising their baby girl-

-but they communicated and compromised just as much as any successful normal domestic relationship.

The only caveat: their communication and compromise skills often presented themselves in more… explosive manner.

And it was at this point as Chad studied Val's practiced stony expression that an idea started to take shape.

Tonight, he wasn't going to compromise. Oh no, Tonight he was going to 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠 𝙝𝙞𝙢.

Chad rested his forehead against Val's temple, looking up at him like a fox playing with it's next meal.

"We don't have to make it into a big deal, just some friends and family on the beach." "I don't have friends."

"You'd get to dress up, Sexy lil suit, Sunny can be our flower girl... I'd only have a few demands."

"Demands?" Val studied him, attempting to predict his partner's next move. It was like a mental game of chess, but if all the pieces spelled out 'this man is going to eat you.'

“I want a cake animation that doesn't work, flowers we forget to use-“ “Okay, fine.” “I want to try that mod that lets HANSEL walk down the aisle with a bouquet” “Maybe.” "And I want Poppy there." "No." "I want 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 to walk me down the aisle." "I said no."

Chad snaked his arms around Valerian's waist, pulling him to his hips, effectively closing any distance between them that might have led Val to believe he was getting out of this easily.

"I believe is what you actually meant to say is 'Yes Chad. Whatever you want my darling.'"

"You're delusional if you think I'm going to let that woman anywhere near my happiness. She would just poison it like she poisons everything good in her life." "You're just mad because she read you like a book. I do the same thing Val." "Yes, but I actually like you."

"Mmm, yes, I can tell." Chad slowly starting to grind his hips against Val's thigh, slipping two fingers into the waistband of his joggers and giving them a quick 𝘴𝘯𝘢𝘱.

Val's eyes darkened again as they fought, rain against fire- Chad smile grew as he observed his favorite little cracks starting to form on Val's evil mask of concentration.

Yes, the Agent decided, this was going to be quite fun for him indeed.

"You're being ridiculous-" "Then tell me to stop." Any lightness in Chad's tone had been completely lost, leaving only a deep predatory growl in its place.

Val raised a hand to protest, his partner snatching it from the air without breaking eye contact, holding him close. Chad continued on in his low growl, "But know this 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳. If you concede, 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗻."

"Those rules hardly seem fair."

Val's demeanor had retained it's cool quality so far, but the cracks in his facade were growing deeper and more fractured. Through the gaps between the pieces, Chad could see his beautifully soft overgrown edgelord, and feel the prize for all his coercing stiffen against his leg.

He slowly brought Val's captured wrist to his lips, keeping a dedicated eye on the man's face. Chad wanted to watch his favorite part of their little dance. Mouth met it's target as tongue tasted heartbeat- villainous mask falling to the ground, leaving Val vulnerable once more.

His heart, which Val professed died long ago, was beating deliciously faster than the man wanted to let on. Persona broken, Chad earned an involuntary shiver from his beautiful, overzealous, and positivity fucked supervillain.

"Oh my love, you know I never play fair."

( concluded on Pillowfort - explicit content ahead 🔞 )

#sim spice #side plott #valerian plott #chad chinsley #spice level: absolutely fucked

[moonjxsung]

i swear these stays are just like most korean idol fans. i speak korean so i follow some k-stays/moas/engenes on twitter and they treat these grown men like children i?????? and these international fans that do the same just confuse me. explain to me how and why you think a 23 year old man has never drunk alcohol never had sex never kissed never had a single dirty thought in his life because he's nothing but a smol precious innocent lil bean??? EXPLAIN TO ME BC I JUST DONT GET IT and these are the same fans that slut shame the FUCK out of female idols when they date their precious baby boys bc ofc the evil woman seduced him and he must be saved bc she probably has an std bc she *gasp* has sex and i just- no words

!!!!!!!!!! I don’t even know what to add to this apart from saying it’s so fucking real ESPECIALLY that part abt female idols it fr makes me so sick to my stomach

Just because they’re idols doesn’t mean that just cancels out their adulthood 😭😭 even skz themselves have said they don’t like to be babied like it is almost 2024 let’s please not 🤕

#anon <3 #ask

[ugh-yoongi]

she, by proxy | myg, kth

(or, the one where yoongi gets what yoongi wants, even when what he wants is taehyung. especially when it's taehyung.)

✤ pairing: yoongi x reader; taehyung x reader; yoongi x taehyung ✤ genre: est. relationship (yoongi x reader), pwp ✤ rating: explicit; minors dni ✤ warnings: a lot of swearing, drinking but no one's drunk, a friend group in which everyone is queer and has fucked at least once probably, taehyung is a messy hoe but yoongi's an entire disaster, pining, open relationships, polyamory that is discussed briefly, i have been told there are some feelings involved. the most important: there is gay stuff in here!!! i repeat, some of this is VERY GAY! please do not read if that isn't your thing! ✤ smut warnings: girls making out, a threesome, dudes kissing, oral sex (m. receiving), anal fingering, vaginal fingering, taegi get pegged, dirty talk, dudes touching themselves a lot, come as lube (but there's also real lube dw), come eating, voyeurism, a lil slapping (thighs/clit), the dom/sub dynamics shift throughout the fic but mainly dom!reader, very mild degradation, a lil begging, taehyung cries, fingers always seem to wind up in mouths, hair pulling, frottage, yoongi accidentally gets edged, praise, protected sex, dp (fingers & piv at the same time). i think that's it :') but let me know if i forgot anything. ✤ word count: 8.3k ✤ credits: thank you to @effortandmore / @the-boy-meets-evil / & @here2bbtstrash for beta'ing this for me. my personal porny fairy godparents. i appreciate you all a whole lot. ✤ author's note: can you believe my degenerate brain dreamed this up and then i wrote all of it in two days in a delirious haze, opened the doc this morning to make final edits, and added almost 2k more. idk who i am anymore. if i missed anything it's bc i finished & edited this during jk's live and i was distracted, to say the least. anyway this is embarrassing i feel like a prude so i'm gonna go hide. pls come scream in my inbox with me unless it's to yell tired shit at me abt writing mxm/pegging/whatever else i warned you this is gay.

You hadn’t been surprised the first time, and you’re not surprised now, countless times later.

A girl slides into Taehyung’s lap—long hair, bubblegum pink, almost certainly a wig—and his hands immediately go to the small of her back. Large, nearly swallow her up, and they move to rest possessively at her hips, his grip tight as he pulls her closer. Her top is cropped latex and leaves very little to the imagination, which isn’t an issue for you or Yoongi because she’s not what Yoongi’s looking at. His eyes are locked on Taehyung’s hands; locked on the way the tendons flex as he manhandles the faceless girl in his lap, hikes her over one thick thigh.

Ten more seconds of this and all of you will be looking for a new club.

The air is hazy and thick, the floor sticky with god knows what, and Yoongi reaches for you beneath the table. His own large hand finds your smaller one, those knobby knuckles almost uncomfortable when he twines your fingers together. He’s still staring at Taehyung, and you want to do something, say something, it’ll be someone else soon, stop watching, you’re only gonna hurt yourself, but you know him, and you know when he gets like this it’s best to just let him ride it out. Suffer a little.

(Right now, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be tortured as last time, at least—when all of you had gone someplace else, some seedy spot in an Itaewon basement, and Taehyung had some girl pressed against the wall outside the bathrooms, fingers buried deep in her cunt as she shook and came. And Hobi, smarter and sharper than any of you but still so fucking stupid, had just—

“Fuck, man, they’re gonna need a mop and bucket for that. I mean, shit, it was so much? The sound when it hit the floor—”

Jeongguk had pulled a face. Half doe-eyes, half mortified terror. “When what hit the floor, hyung?”

“Her fucking squirt, Jeonggukie, what the fuck do you think—”

And Namjoon, just as wide-eyed and terrified as Jeongguk but for an entirely different reason, had laughed awkwardly and said, “Haaa, maybe we should talk about something else?” as he looked between Hoseok and Yoongi.

That night had been shit-tier, nearly unsalvageable, so at least it doesn’t seem like Taehyung’s in that kind of mood. At least the girl in his lap still has her clothes on. At least his hands are someplace you can see them. At least Yoongi’s still beside you.)

So you bide your time. Take stock of who’s still here and where they are, because the girl in Taehyung’s lap has her lips on his neck and things might go south faster than you’d originally anticipated. Hoseok and Jimin are on the dance floor, hips doing something sinful and too much; Namjoon’s at the bar, jaw clenched as the bartender passes him over for the fourth time in a row; Soyeon and Hyungseo are in the other side of your booth, tongues sloppy as they kiss just because they feel like it; Jeongguk, shoved in the corner on Yoongi’s other side, is slack-jawed as he stares at them, and Jeongguk is a fucking pervert so you know he’s hard.

“Put your dick back in your pants, Jeonggukie,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you over the music. The bass is heavy as it drops, feels like it’s thrumming through your veins, and Jeongguk startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table in his panic, and Soyeon and Hyungseo don’t bother breaking apart to look. “You want another drink?” you ask Yoongi, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

He shakes his head, finally drags his attention away from Taehyung. There’s someone new in his lap: chin-length silver hair, thin legs that go on for miles, tan skin covered in boldly-colored tattoos, could be anyone. Yoongi isn’t looking anymore, but you are, so you catch it when Taehyung looks up. Looks right at Yoongi, wants to see if he’s watching, but instead he just finds you. “Gonna go smoke,” Yoongi answers, and you slide out of the booth to let him leave.

“Is hyung okay?” Jeongguk asks when the two of you are pressed back together. He sips leisurely at his drink, trying to make it last until Namjoon makes it back from the bar with another one. Something baby blue and shockingly green, a little umbrella on top. Two cherries. “He seems sad. Hey, watch this.” Jeongguk pops one into his mouth and presents the knotted stem to you seconds later.

This is the part you never know how to explain: that Yoongi loves you but sometimes he wants someone else. Not instead, but too. That you love Yoongi and want him to have whatever he wants, and that jealousy is foreign to you. That you and Yoongi love each other but do things a little unorthodox, which is not out of the ordinary for a friend group as ran-through and commingled as yours, but still takes patience and care to explain.

So you just ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, laugh at his squawking protests, and wrangle him so you can press a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t worry this pretty little head about your hyungs, okay?”

Jeongguk surfaces with a glare, surface-level because you’ve embarrassed him in front of two hot girls that are still making out, and hides his flushed cheeks behind his drink. “Is it about Taehyungie-hyung?”

“What’d I just tell you?”

He pouts, but you’re saved from another interrogation by Namjoon’s unceremonious return to the table. He’s so flustered by his one-sided feud with the bartender that he slams the blue-green drink down a little too hard, spills half of it in Jeongguk’s lap. “Move over,” he says to you, and you cock an eyebrow in return. “Please,” he amends, like that’s what you’d been looking for, but when you still don’t move he gets a little whiny and panicked. “They’re relentless,” he says, pointing his thumb at Soyeon and Hyungseo like you can’t see them. “Don’t make me—”

“What about me!” Jeongguk wails, pressing his hands pathetically to his groin like he’s trying to stem bleeding, at the same time you roll your eyes and fire a, “Says Mr. Eight-gigabyte Porn Folder,” at Namjoon.

You receive another glare, this time from Namjoon, and he doesn’t hesitate to steal Jeongguk’s spot against the wall when he goes to the bathroom to deal with his soaked pants, only to start swearing when he realizes the seat is wet, too. “Jesus fuck—”

“That’s what you get.”

“Fuck off,” Namjoon fires back. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

“Outside smoking.”

“Smok—why is he smoking?” At your silence, he jerks his head up, intent on getting an answer out of you. Instead, his question dies on his tongue as he follows your line of sight. Another new person in Taehyung’s lap, sucking Taehyung’s fingers into their mouth. “Ah, yeah. That fucking guy.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Be nice, Namjoonie. You know Taehyung would hook up with a microwave if it gave him attention.”

“What number is that, then? Hasn’t he gotten enough attention?”

“Third I’ve seen. The first one was cute. I thought for sure he was gonna leave with her.”

Namjoon huffs, shakes his head. Takes a long pull of his beer. “He’s not gonna leave with anyone. He just does this to piss off hyung.” Then, like he’s coming to a realization, he turns to look at you with a quizzical look. “Wait, where’d Seokjin-hyung go?”

You stare back in disbelief. “How long were you at the fucking bar? He left hours ago.”

“Did he?” Then, quieter and to himself, “How long was I at the fucking bar?”

Whatever game Taehyung is playing, Yoongi is woefully inept at playing along.

Doesn’t know when it’s his move or when it’s time to sit and watch. Doesn’t know the rules. Doesn’t really listen when you try to explain it to him; probably doesn't want to hear it. Yoongi seems to think he’s at his best when he’s a little sad, a little miserable and yearning. At its core, that’s what the game is, and as much as he keeps touching the thorns to see if he’ll bleed, you know he still enjoys it.

(Know he gets off on it, too.)

Yoongi reaches for you. Steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder, pupils wide as saucers—dark dark dark in the corner of this grimy club—eventually breaking into a smile when you grab his sweat-slick hands and guide them to your waist. Your bodies move together like waves, pushing apart only for Yoongi to continuously pull you in closer, dazed from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, words impossible to hear over the music, “look at you. So fucking pretty.”

He threads a knee between your legs, the sound of his groan drowned out as you roll your hips against him. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t know the rules to this game, but you do, and you make sure Taehyung’s watching when you drag your core against Yoongi’s thigh. He groans again, and his hands grip your hips tighter, moving you back and forth on him the way he does when you ride him.

You watch as he drags his eyes upward, see the exact moment he spots Taehyung across the club. His profile is lit up by the strobe lights, filling in the contours of his bone structure with greens and blues. He’s with Jimin and Hoseok now, dancing with the girl from earlier with the pink hair, her back pressed to his chest. He leans down and whispers recycled filth into her ear that she seems to buy. You watch as Yoongi closes his eyes tight; watch him pretend it’s Taehyung dancing with him; it’s Taehyung’s hips he’s gripping onto; it’s Taehyung who’s moaning and desperate for him in this moment.

You watch as his eyes snap open again.

You watch as he realizes he’s in this daydream alone.

And you wonder, briefly, if this should bother you. If this is fucked up, that Yoongi’s hard against you because he’s thinking about someone else, and you find that you don’t care. What you and Yoongi have doesn’t need to make sense to anyone except the two of you.

“Wanna go home,” Yoongi slurs into your ear, fucked up from the feel of you, the thought of Taehyung.

You smirk, tangle your hands in his hair and tug a little just to fuck him up even more. “Yeah? What d’you wanna go home for? It’s still pretty early.”

“Wanna fuck you,” he whines. Tries to hold you in place to grind harder against you and whines again when you move just out of reach. “Baby.”

“You know the rule.” There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down the side of Yoongi’s neck that you chase with your tongue. “Tell me what you actually want and we can leave.”

The breath he sucks in is harsh, fractured, like your question is a special kind of torture. You know it is. Unlike with Taehyung, this is a game both you and Yoongi know the rules to. Unlike with Taehyung, this is the game Yoongi plays to win. The song changes again, this time to something filthy and slow, and Yoongi fits himself to your back, moves until both of you are facing Taehyung. “Want you both,” he says into your ear. Nips at the lobe. “Want to watch you fuck him the way you fuck me.”

“Don’t wanna fuck him yourself?”

You feel him shake his head. “Not this time.”

“What are you doing, then? In this fantasy of yours?”

Yoongi presses closer, the outline of his hard cock pressing into the small of your back now. “Watching, at first. Wanna see you ruin him.” His hands skim along your skin, dip beneath the hemline of your shirt, dance across your stomach. “Wanna watch you make him fucking cry.”

“Are you telling me how?”

Yoongi’s laugh is low, a little caustic. “I won’t need to. He’s so fuckin’ easy.”

“And yet you want him this bad,” you taunt. “Someone easy like that—doesn’t seem to be your type.”

He bites along your neck. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m not the one all fucked up over Kim Taehyung.” You make eye contact with the man in question. Watch as the look on his face fades into a smirk, syrupy and slow. Sleezy, you think. He probably is as easy as Yoongi says. “I should tell him how fucking hard you are. Should tell him you’re gonna take me home and fuck me and come thinking about him. That’s pretty fuckin’ dirty, Yoongi.”

It’s nothing you haven’t said before. Sometimes you press even harder, humiliate him a little when he seems to be in the mood for it, but this time he goes stock-still. Silence stretches between the two of you, the only people standing still on this dancefloor, and you’re halfway turned around to see if Yoongi wants to fuck or cry when he says, “Do it, then.”

You laugh. All part of the game. But then Yoongi grabs your hand, moves it to his cock, straining against his skin-tight jeans, some kind of message that’s gotten fucked up in translation. “Yoongi—”

“Tell him,” he says, expression shuttered and serious.

“You wanna think about this for more than ten seconds? You haven’t talked to him since the last time you guys hooked up and you want me to go tell him you… what? That you want to have some weird cuck threesome with him?”

That’s exactly what you told him.

(Because you know Yoongi, and you also know Taehyung. Your dig at him to Namjoon was very much based in truth, and with how fucked up the dynamics of your friend group are, it hadn’t taken much more than sending Yoongi out into the cold to order a taxi, swaying your hips a little, re-glossing your lips, and disposing of the girl with the bubblegum pink hair. No one had batted an eye.

“I’m going home to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, leaning into Taehyung’s space. He was draped on the couch again, legs spread in a way that was frankly obscene. “Would you like to join us?”

“That depends, angel. How do you fuck him?” he asked, spreading his legs wider.

You stepped closer. Cupped his cheek, dug your nails into his skin a little, and said, “Better than you ever did,” all condescension.

Taehyung had just laughed. Pressed his tongue into the fat of his cheek. “I guess we’ll see about that.”)

And now you’re here, Taehyung sprawled on the bed beneath you. You can see why a sight like this would have Yoongi fucked up as long as he has been: Taehyung’s golden skin contrasting against the crisp white of the sheets, dark hair fanning against the pillows, curls falling into his eyes, chest heaving. Each time he throws his head back you’re torn between sinking your teeth into the column of his throat and wrapping your hands around it. It’s easy to ruin him when he looks like this; easy to give Yoongi what he wants.

“What should I do with you?” you think out loud, and Taehyung’s responding whimper draws a laugh out of you. “Yoongi wants to watch me fuck you,” you continue, hands teasing toward the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. You pinch, slap away the sting. “Would you like that?”

Taehyung’s cock—long and thick, still glistening with spit from when you sucked him off—twitches at the thought. “Y-yeah, fuck, want that,” he answers, hands moving to fist the sheets. He’s been so good. Has done exactly as you said. “Wan’ you to fuck me.”

“Should I fuck you the way you used to fuck your hyung?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi moan at the same time, and it’s so stupid, you think, this game they’ve been playing. Cat and mouse, as if the conclusion hasn’t been inevitable this whole time. “Use your words, Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” he says again, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily in his throat. “Y-yeah, like that.”

You hum, reach behind you for the bottle of lube. Yoongi mutters a quiet shit from the other side of the room and you glance over. Mouth hung open, lips wet; jeans pushed halfway down his thighs, the outline of his cock visible through his briefs, hand squeezing at the base. Cheating a little, but still not touching himself the way you know he wants to. He’ll be the first to cry, at this rate.

Eyes back on Taehyung. You wonder if he’d normally preen, put on a show. You wonder if he did that with Yoongi, some whole thing. “He’s told me about it, you know,” you say, clicking the lube open. Sounds more like a gunshot in the small space of your bedroom, where the only other sounds are labored breathing and the city outside. “Told me all about how you used to split him open with that big cock.” You tip the bottle sideways, let the lube dribble out and over Taehyung’s balls. He hisses at the cold, mutters a swear. “Told me he’d struggle to take it sometimes.”

“You two are—fuck.” Whatever Taehyung was going to say is cut off as your finger follows the lube, trails down to his hole. You circle it there, make sure it’s wet, press a little just to watch his hips jerk. “You two are fu-fucking weird.”

“Mm, maybe,” you concede, “but you should see how hard he comes when he’s thinking about you.”

You gather more lube on your finger, then, and press it inside. Just to the first knuckle, just enough to make Taehyung whine. “I guess you already know that, though,” you continue. Pour a little more lube on Taehyung’s skin. Pull your finger out enough to slicken it, push it back in a little further. “Was it good for you?”

His moan is broken and low, deep and heady. A sound that makes the world feel like it’s tilting; a sound that makes you want to chase it. “Yeah,” Taehyung answers, and it could be a response or a declaration when it’s followed by, “so fucking good.”

“Yoongi is good, isn’t he? He listens so well.” With your free hand, you grab Taehyung’s face roughly, turn his head in the direction of where Yoongi’s sitting. “Look at him,” you instruct. He already looks fucked-out. Cheeks flushed, breathing hard, knuckles white where he’s gripping onto the arm of the chair. “Look at how good he’s being, not even touching himself.”

And Taehyung… Taehyung almost looks ashamed. Won’t meet Yoongi’s gaze, now that they’re so close, now that it’s real, and this won’t do, will it, so you dig your nails in a little harder, drag them down his cheek, tell him again to look at his hyung. Then—

For the first time all night, their eyes meet at the same time.

Yoongi’s whimper is loud. The loudest you’ve ever heard him outside of actual sex. You work in a second finger alongside the first, build up a steady rhythm, and Taehyung isn’t faring much better. Little by little he opens up for you and you’re thankful for the way he sucks you in, adjusts. It’s getting harder to ignore the heat between your own legs, watching two beautiful men fall apart in vastly different ways, even though you want to drag this out, want to make Taehyung cry and give Yoongi exactly what he wanted.

And, god, Taehyung is so fucking pretty.

You tell him as much, and his smile is greasy, looks even more lewd when you crook your fingers and his eyes roll back. He’s still tight around you when he asks for a third so you shake your head, tell him no, tell him he’s greedy, and you think people must not make him beg much, the way he’s pouting. Taehyung has a face that gets him whatever he wants and a cock to match, and you’d understood it before, why Yoongi couldn’t really let it go, but it’s different when it’s right in front of you, making a mess of your sheets.

“I must be going soft on you,” you tell him, working in another finger the next time he asks. “Yoongi wanted me to make you cry and here I am, giving you whatever you want. Maybe I should let him decide what you get.”

Taehyung shoots a hand out, grabs at your forearm. “Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse, bordering on pleading. “Please. He’s still mad at me, won’ give me anything.”

A huff of breath escapes you. “He doesn’t look very mad to me. Looks like he could probably come on command if you told him to.” It’s not an exaggeration, not really; Yoongi is gone, looks like a stiff wind could have him spilling all over himself. “But maybe that’s what you deserve.”

You nail Taehyung’s prostate the next time you crook your fingers and he sobs. You do it again, then a third time. Precome oozes out of his cock, deepens the pool on his belly. You keep it up until tears pool on his waterline, until he’s reaching for you again, begging you to stop, words cracking as he tells you desperately that he’s going to come. “Angel, fuck, please, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, all authority. “You’re not going to come, are you, because I haven’t told you to. Yoongi hasn’t told you to.”

The first frustrated tear streaks down Taehyung’s cheek. “Oh my fucking god,” he chokes out, forcing his hips flat to the bed, tries to force you to stop moving. But your rhythm is steady, confident, three fingers working with the space he’s left you, and it isn’t until you watch his balls tighten that they slow. Taehyung’s sweat-slick, looks even more golden under the amber lamplight, and it’s dizzying, the way the color shifts as his chest heaves with his ragged breaths.

There’s only enough time for you to slip your fingers out, grab the lube, slick up the strap-on that’s fastened around your hips, before you’re pressing the head against Taehyung’s hole, still dripping wet. “It’s so big,” you muse, grinning wickedly at the man beneath you, “I don’t know if it’s going to fit. What do you think, Yoongi? Is this how you used to feel?”

When you look over this time, Yoongi has his cock out, briefs tucked beneath his balls, stroking fast. Clicking your tongue, he looks up through half-lidded eyes, hand stilling immediately. His nod is almost imperceptible, too disoriented to answer, and you’ll give him this one. Won’t push it. What you will push, though—

“Shit.”

You’re not sure if it comes from Yoongi or Taehyung. It might’ve even come from you, because you’re transfixed, can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your stupid flesh-colored dildo disappearing into Taehyung’s body. Fucking greedy, you think, mostly at yourself, because if this sight is good you can only imagine what you’d see if you were watching his face. Brows furrowed, mouth pinched. A look not far off from that night in the club, the determination on his face as he fucked that girl with his fingers, uncaring who heard or saw.

But this is your show. Yoongi’s fantasy. Whatever girls—people—Taehyung has fucked in seedy clubs across Seoul are of little importance here. All that matters is the steady push of your hips, the slow roll once you’re fully buried, the pleasure that jolts through you when you’re able to grind a little against the toy, the way Taehyung thrashes against the sheets, incoherent as he babbles, stuck between more and too much.

“Okay?” you ask, hands skimming along his warm skin. Goosebumps trail in their wake, and you settle them on his thighs. Press them up and to the side as he nods, giving yourself more space, and Taehyung’s moan is loud, unabashed. His cock lies neglected against his stomach, begging you to reach out and grab it, stroke him, make him come too fast so you have another bruise to press on, some way to embarrass him.

But this is your show, Yoongi’s fantasy, and you don’t have to look because you can hear how close your boyfriend is to getting himself off. Can hear the way his breath hitches, can hear when his rhythm changes. Quicker, now. More insistent. If Taehyung looked over at him, it’d be all over, and you almost tell him to do that, too.

“Stop touching yourself,” you say to Yoongi. A second time when he disregards the first, too far gone, too close. “Yoongi.” He whines but he listens, shoves his fingers in his mouth to stem the urge, and Taehyung watches it all.

You’re still thrusting, thighs burning, sticky where they meet Taehyung’s, and it won’t be your lengthiest performance, that’s for sure. So you call Yoongi’s name again, beckon him over, and he hesitates, looks so unsure. But it’s so stupid, the way he and Taehyung dance around one another—and you know, you know Taehyung wouldn’t be shaking like this if it were just you, if Yoongi wasn’t in his head, wasn’t watching—so you’re insistent. “Come here,” you tell him, and you make sure your voice is spun sugar when you say it.

Yoongi listens. Stumbles over on unsteady legs, knees nearly buckling when he gets close enough to also watch the way the strap-on fucks into Taehyung’s hole, the way it stretches obscenely to accommodate it. “Baby.” He threads his hands into your hair and kisses you hard and messy. Taehyung moans beneath you so you know he’s watching, and you will your body to move faster, fuck him harder.

When Yoongi pulls back, it’s obvious. The longing in his eyes. “Tell him,” you say, and he looks caught-out, would almost look angry if he were capable of it. “This is your fantasy, isn’t it? So tell him.”

“I—” He looks down at Taehyung again, meets his gaze again, and he must see something there you can’t, because all the hesitation is gone when he says, “I want to kiss you.”

And you know what it means.

Because that had been the rule between the two of them. No staying the night, no kissing. You know what it means for Yoongi to ask for that, what it’d mean if Taehyung allowed it, and it nearly cracks your heart in half that it’s the only thing he’s willing to ask for when his wants are endless when it comes to Taehyung.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung moans. “Fuck, hyung, yeah—yeah, c’mere, kiss me, please, fuck.”

Yoongi looks like he’s been punched in the gut. Looks overwhelmed, given this kind of permission, so he goes about it all wrong. Starts to kneel at the side of the bed before you tsk and grab him by his own hair. “Do it right,” you instruct.

He moans. Aborts whatever he was about to do and climbs over Taehyung on the bed, straddles him, fitting in between both of you perfectly, close enough for his cock to slot against Taehyung’s. They both moan, and their game had been so fucking stupid it sends a lick of anger through you. Yoongi ruts his hips once, twice, and then he’s leaning down and cupping Taehyung’s face and pressing his lips—still wet from you, still wearing your spit—to Taehyung’s.

And Taehyung comes immediately, nearly untouched. Spills all over himself with a loud, broken sob.

“Holy shit,” you say, hips slowing until they’re still. “Holy shit, that was fucking hot, what the fuck.”

Taehyung trembles in the comedown and Yoongi presses in closer, kisses him through it. Can’t seem to stop now that he’s allowed. He’s still rutting, has Taehyung teetering on oversensitivity, so you grab Yoongi’s hips to slow him. “Careful, baby,” you say softly into his ear. Press a kiss to the nape of his neck. Give him a minute to back away from the ledge again and get himself under control, let Taehyung catch his breath. “Are you okay, Taehyung?” you ask, hands once again touching any of his skin you can find. You knead at the muscles in his calves.

There’s some garbled response. Something you think is supposed to sound like an affirmation. “Words, please.”

“Y-yeah,” comes his response.

“Okay. I’m gonna go grab something to clean you up, all right?” You press another kiss to Yoongi’s shoulder, turn your attention to him. “Then we’ll finally give you what you want, yeah? Finally let you come.” A shiver runs up his spine and he nods weakly. “Can you prep yourself while I’m gone?” Another shaky nod. “Good boy. Gonna pull out now, Tae.”

You do so slowly. Taehyung hisses, sucks in a breath through his teeth. Hisses again when you replace the toy with your thumb, try to ease the discomfort of being so suddenly empty. With another kiss pressed to Yoongi’s shoulder, you mumble an I love you into his hair, and then you’re gone.

There’s always been something about the way Yoongi touches himself.

Like the goal is more than simply getting off. Like there’s reverence in it, something beyond purpose. Yoongi touches himself the way other people drop to their knees at church and pray.

Sometimes it’s long and drawn out. Sometimes his hands skirt over every inch of his own skin before he finally brings them to his cock. Sometimes he rests on his haunches in the middle of the bed and angles himself toward the mirror and watches, his cheeks aflame the entire time because he’s embarrassed to see himself like that, three of his own fingers fucking himself, but the embarrassment almost feels just as good. Sometimes he has you beneath him, raining down praise as his fist works the length of his cock.

Sometimes he does it entirely wrong, like now.

Two pale, lube-slick fingers work in and out of his hole. His own, then, and not Taehyung’s. Just like you’d asked. You’re a little surprised, thought maybe Yoongi might panic and retreat with you gone, but they’re both where you’d left them. Taehyung’s talking all the while, saying god knows what in that deep timbre, and it’s straight up pornographic the way his large hands rest on the cheeks of Yoongi’s ass, pull them apart.

The damp cloth in your hand feels useless. Is useless, you think, because Yoongi had told you something, once, deep in the throes of another cerebral fantasy—

“I can’t believe I have to keep telling you this,” you say, and everything immediately goes still at the sound of your voice, “but do it right, Yoongi.”

Taehyung lifts his head, stares at you skeptically. Probably mirroring the look on Yoongi’s face that you aren’t privy to with his back to you. “We’ve talked about this,” you continue, stalking closer. All eyes on you as you drop the cloth to the floor. “Are you clean?” you ask Taehyung, and he nods, expression still dubious.

And then you’re reaching between both of them, swiping your fingers through the mess of cum on Taehyung’s stomach, and he understands immediately. “Are you gon—fuuuck. Fucking christ.” The first swipe goes to Yoongi’s mouth, and there’s no hesitation as he sucks your fingers clean. Your free hand finds Yoongi’s, the one he’s working himself open with, and pulls it away. Replaces it with your own, your two longest fingers covered in the second swipe of Taehyung’s cum, and you fuck them in and out faster than Yoongi had been.

“Filthy,” Taehyung chokes out, clearly overwhelmed; another groan when Yoongi starts sucking at his neck, biting, claiming.

It’s primal, the way Taehyung reacts, the way Yoongi embeds himself under his skin, tries desperately to make a home there. Something permanent this time; or, at least, a home that won’t burn down like the last one. Won’t be reduced to a smoking heap of bitter ash. And you wonder, as you watch the way these two beautiful men fit together, if Taehyung will be holding the match or the key this time.

You press slow, open-mouthed kisses along the knots in Yoongi’s spine. Drizzle more lube on your fingers, work him open more. Whisper I know, baby, I know when he gets impatient and a little too demanding. Swap the condom on the strap-on and slick it up, just like last time, and then you’re pressing into Yoongi instead of Taehyung, the way you’ve done so many times before.

Everything is familiar and different: the drag, the pull, the noises spilling out of Yoongi’s mouth. Those staccato whines varied in pitch, sometimes drawn out and sometimes punched and short. This is what you know. This is your home, and you think, as Taehyung looks at Yoongi, so fucking endeared, as he gently cups his face, as he says—

“Hyung, you look so pretty. You’re doing so well, hyung, fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this again.”

—you think your house might look nice with an addition. An extra space carved out only for Taehyung. A room where Yoongi can exist in endless adoration.

“Make yourself useful, Kim Taehyung.”

Because Taehyung listens. Because Taehyung is good in all the ways that Yoongi is good, and he doesn’t have to be told twice when the order deals in Yoongi’s pleasure. So all of you adjust until Yoongi’s on his hands and knees, gripping tightly onto the headboard, and Taehyung shuffles down the bed until he can get his mouth on Yoongi’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you say, and Taehyung moans at the praise, the vibrations making Yoongi gasp and jerk.

You know when you hit his prostate, too; know this is going to be over soon from the way he buries his face in the crook of his elbow and screams. You know it from the way he starts to shake. From the unintelligible filth that pours from his mouth as Taehyung swallows him all the way down. From the way he stutters out a, ba-baby, wha’bout you, gonna come like this, and you pet his hair, voice soft again when you say, this is for you, Yoongi, you can come, I know it’s so much.

There’s a final husky, drawn-out moan, and then there’s quiet.

Lucidity returns slowly.

The heat kicks on. A police siren wails in the distance, seven floors below you. You re-wet your cloth and do your best to clean the dried cum from Taehyung’s skin, your smile fond as he whines at the cold, tries to squirm away. Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, just collapses face-first onto the mattress and lets everyone fuss over him. Starts snoring a few minutes later, after you’ve pulled the duvet up to his ears and he’s tucked in and warm.

You move to the dresser. Pull out two t-shirts—oversized on you, tight in the shoulders on Taehyung—and clean underwear. And then you pause, because Taehyung’s already plucking his own clothes off the floor, already has his fucking socks and briefs on, and it’s… it doesn’t feel right, is the thing. Doesn’t feel like he should be leaving. Not tonight, maybe ever.

“Where are you going?” you ask, and you do a good job of keeping the hurt out, at sounding normal.

Taehyung doesn’t get it. Looks at you like you’re a little stupid and a lot crazy, because he looks at you, then at the world outside the window, and finally at Yoongi before answering. “I—leaving?”

“Why?”

Taehyung looks at you like you’re a lot stupid this time. “I don’t…” Pauses. Tries to sink into the floor to no avail. “Look, I think maybe this was a mistake? Hyung and I—I don’t think this is what he wants.”

“And how do you know what he wants?”

“Because we’re here,” he answers, anger seeping in. “Because I’m standing in your apartment. His girlfriend, and—”

You sigh. “If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you, but I think it’d really hurt him if you left.” You leave off the again. It’s not your trauma to dredge up. Yoongi wouldn’t want you to, and that’s reason enough. “I would like it if you stayed, if that means anything.”

“The two of you are fucking weird,” he says again, but he looks less torn. Looks less like he would plow you over to get to the door, and it’s… progress. It’s good. You can work with a halfway thing. “Hyung would really—you think he wants me here?”

It’s spoken about in the way a broken thing always is: delicately, hesitantly, like Taehyung’s afraid of the answer, afraid to find out the results of this stupid game of his own design. “He does. It’s not my place to say much more than that, but I think the two of you are overdue for a conversation, if nothing else.”

Taehyung nods. Starts looking less and less like he’s out of place; starts looking like object permanence, takes a corporeal form within the four walls of your bedroom. “There’s space here for you,” you say, with the amount of care words like these require, “if you want it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to. Nothing has to be decided right now, but I know Yoongi. You know him, too. I just don’t want to see him hurt again.”

Taehyung nods again. Peels his socks off. “You’re sure?” he asks, and when you nod, he climbs back into bed, seems to somehow know which side of the bed is Yoongi’s, two magnets drawn together. Something inevitable.

You breathe out a sigh. Finally slip the t-shirt and underwear on. Flick the lamp off and let yourself have a minute to enjoy the calm, Yoongi’s body heat next to you, still snoring softly between you and Taehyung. And then, because you can’t resist—

“You two are really fucking stupid, you know that?”

You hear Taehyung swallow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding the part of a scolded child, and as much as you try not to, you’re smiling again, fond and endeared, into the dark. “I know.”

“Okay. Go to sleep, Tae. I expect a very nice thank you gift in the morning.”

It doesn’t happen in the morning. Not really.

It happens sometime in the middle of the night. The light streaming in through the sheer curtains gives away nothing more than silver-amber light, the moon and the city. Could be minutes since you fell asleep, could be hours; all you know is Yoongi’s at your back, arm slung possessively over your middle, and his heat is stifling.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, because it’s not just his heat. He’s hard again, cock pressing against the swell of your ass just like it was in the club, and you feel him smile against your neck when he realizes you’re awake. Feel him rock his hips, just a little.

He nips at your lobe, your jaw. “Hi, baby,” he says, like this is just another morning. Like he’s about to present your favorite mug to you, coffee fixed exactly how you like it. “Why didn’ you wake me up?”

“For what?” you breathe out, voice already wavering. All Yoongi has done is skim his warm hands under your oversized t-shirt, swirl a finger around your navel.

Yoongi tuts. Feels weird to be on this side of it, the illusion of condescension. “To fuck you. Make you come. You didn’t earlier.”

“I meant what I said—”

“I know you did,” Yoongi interjects, “but I don’t find that to be a very acceptable excuse.”

You roll your eyes, no heat in it, but then Yoongi’s hand moves to the hem of your underwear and slips inside. Your hips jerk when he moves two fingers lightly over your clit, jerk again when he finds you already wet and groans deep and husky into your ear. And it’s not loud, but it’s loud for this room at whatever-the-fuck time it is. “Gotta be quiet,” you whisper to him, and he laughs, thinks you’re joking. “I’m serious,” you say, and you want to sound authoritative but it comes out as a whine when he sinks those fingers into your cunt.

“Why would I need to be quiet?” he asks. Crooks them as best he can from this weird angle, you on your side with your back pressed to him, Yoongi halfway on top of you. “Shouldn’t I be loud?” He hits a spot that whites your vision. “Shouldn’t everyone in this fucking place hear it?”

Usually you wouldn’t care. Your apartment building has heard worse, including whatever debauchery the three of you had gotten up to mere hours ago, but—“Taehyung’s asleep.”

Yoongi startles, goes still. “What?”

“What.”

“What d’you mean Taehyung’s asl…” You feel him turn. Feel him realize, for the first time, that there is a very-asleep Taehyung on his other side, and you want to ask how he hadn’t noticed before, want to say didn’t you realize how cramped this bed is, it’s not big enough for three people, we’ll have to get a new one, but. Yoongi hadn’t expected him to stay, hadn’t expected it to even be an option, so of course it would’ve been a blind spot.

Your heart cracks in half again.

“What’d you say to him?” he asks. Not accusing, almost awed, like you knew a code, the secret passcode to getting Taehyung to stay that Yoongi hadn’t had before.

You reach back, find Yoongi’s hair. Scratch gently at his scalp. “Just that I thought you’d like it if he stayed. That’s it, nothing else. I wouldn’t.”

“I know, I wasn’t…” He sucks in a deep breath, holds it, lets it go. He’s okay. “This is okay with you?”

A laugh spills out of you. “You’re asking me that now? I was nearly fist-deep in his ass a few hours ago but him sleeping in our bed is crossing some kind of line?”

“Sex can be different,” Yoongi argues, “and it’s me, you know, like it’s my hangup, not yours—”

“I want you to be happy,” you answer honestly. “Whatever that looks like. I told him there’s room for him here if he wants it, but they’re not my knots to untangle. If he wants to stick around, if you two can get your shit together… we’ll figure it out. It only needs to make sense to us.”

Silence. Then—“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my fucking life,” Yoongi groans. “Jesus Christ.”

“I should’ve known hyung was the type to get a boner from open and honest communication.”

Yoongi startles again at the low rasp of Taehyung’s voice. “And that’s exactly why I said I fuck him better than you,” you fire at him, deadpan. He laughs. You don’t have to look at Yoongi to know how red he’s turned.

“You said that to him?” he chokes out, all mortified disbelief, at the same time Taehyung says, “Maybe you’ve got a point, angel.”

The mattress sinks under Taehyung’s weight as he shuffles closer to the two of you. Must touch Yoongi somehow, because there’s a high-pitched whine from the back of his throat, so loud in your ear, has heat coursing through you. “Finish what you started, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi’s nod is jerky, his hands uncoordinated under Taehyung’s watchful stare.

Yoongi moves over you fully, wastes no time before he’s working his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm, sucking at your skin. Taehyung groans quietly, doesn’t need to be told a goddamn thing; rids you of your shirt so Yoongi can mouth his way from your jaw to your neck, collarbones to chest, one nipple and then the next. Pleasure licks up your spine, outweighs how overwhelming it is to have Yoongi this geared-up, wound this tight; to have Taehyung’s hands roaming over every inch of skin his hyung doesn’t have his mouth on.

“Yoo-Yoongi,” you choke out, because this has really gone from zero to a hundred and he’s been pressing incessantly on your g-spot for too long to remain unaffected.

It’s building, building, building, and you’ve fully lost control of your hips, grinding against the heel of Yoongi’s palm like you’re desperate for it. (You are.) And Taehyung just laughs darkly, says, “Think she’s gonna come, hyung,” just to get under your skin.

“Mm, yeah. Might make a mess.” He slaps at your clit and that’s it, that’s what does it.

And Yoongi knows you, doesn’t he, because he knows how you like to get fucked. Knows to click his tongue at you, give you that disappointed look; knows to wipe your release on your thighs. Knows to barely let you catch your breath before he’s slipping on a condom and pushing inside of you.

After his fingers, the stretch from his cock feels dizzying. Feels on the edge of too much, and Taehyung’s commentary is doing fuck-all to help you come back to earth. Keeps saying shit like goddamn, hyung, yeah, fuck her like that. Maneuvers you so your back is pressed to his chest, now, your head on his shoulder, so Yoongi can slip his tongue into Taehyung’s mouth while he ruins you. It’s filthy, it’s so fucking filthy, and you think, selfishly, that a room won’t be big enough. You’d build Taehyung an entire goddamn house to keep it like this, to keep the three of you safe in this bubble.

“Imagine, hyung,” Taehyung starts, and you know what comes out of his mouth next is going to be nasty. Yoongi knows it, too, eyes starting to go glassy. A million constellations reflected as he looks at the two of you. “If we fucked her at the same time. Both of us in that tight pussy. Our cocks togeth—”

You’re not sure if the deafening moan comes from you or Yoongi. Either way, his hips falter, cadence reduced to stuttered thrusts as he tries desperately not to come just from Taehyung spewing more filth out of his devilish mouth. But you want to see it. Want to see what happens when he’s pushed to the brink of horny delirium, so you say—

“Do it.”

—and Yoongi has to stop altogether. Grips your hips so hard you know they’ll bruise, and you think, for a second, that he actually did come. Everything is quiet for a second, just more labored breathing, and then Yoongi picks his head up. Looks more fucked-out than you’ve ever seen him, even more than earlier, and looks straight at Taehyung.

“Put your fingers in her.”

Taehyung breathes harshly through his nose. Waits for you to nod, give him the okay, and then his hands leave your hair and skim down your body. They’re so warm, so large, cover so much skin that it truly feels like he’s everywhere, like it’s more than just him touching you. The closer he nears to your cunt, the more overpowering it is, the harder it is to breathe.

“Is this what you want, angel?” he asks, words warm on your skin as he presses them just below your ear. “You’re a greedy girl, getting hyung’s cock and my fingers.” He rubs circles into your clit, sends you spiraling. You’re dangerously close to a second orgasm (could be a third, could be a hundredth, considering Yoongi never let you come down from the first) and there’s a split-second right before he dips his fingers into your cunt, works them in alongside Yoongi’s cock, that you feel engulfed.

Everything is on fire.

You, most of all.

Taehyung sucks his fingers into his mouth, gets ‘em wet, works in slowly. Just his middle finger at first, and Yoongi falters again, moans out an oh fuuuck that betrays exactly how far gone he is. And you aren’t far behind, the stretch from both of them unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You can’t imagine how it’d feel if it was more than just Taehyung’s fingers, except you can, and Taehyung notices when the thought has you clenching, has you a little wetter, because he laughs at you, tells Yoongi like he can’t tell on his own. Like your boyfriend is a little dumb, like he’s never fucked you before, and that does something to both of you.

One finger turns into two. Yoongi’s a fucking mess, absolutely gone of the feel of them inside you, against his cock, can’t stop moaning. The tight fit has Taehyung’s fingers pressed snug against your g-spot, exactly how Yoongi’s had been, and it’s too much. Too much.

“I’m, fuck—I’m gonna—”

When you come it feels like the end of the world. It feels like rapture. It feels like every atom in your body has been rearranged, like the gods themselves are rewarding you specifically with the sound of Yoongi following right behind you, moaning low and ragged, spilling into the condom.

In the comedown, he kisses you—soft, tender, with every iota of love and affection contained in him. “I love you,” he says. Presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You okay?”

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. “Give me three to five business days to decide.”

Yoongi’s smile is shy, almost embarrassed. More gums than anything else. Behind you, the rumble of Taehyung’s laughter against your back, rattling your ribs. Rattling your heart, maybe, lodged safely between them.

It expands, makes more room—the one for Taehyung, that house—and Yoongi’s lips find Taehyung’s next and you know it’ll be okay. These two stupid boys, they’ll figure it out, put a cease fire to their foolish game.

Yeah, something inevitable.

as always, thank you for reading! my inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. i’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #yoongi imagine #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #taehyung imagine #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #yoongi fanfic #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #btscarnivalnet #kvanity #btswritersclub #btshoneyhive

[s0ul-j0k3r]

"Oh shut up."

This was requested by my friend, but they didn't give me a gn or male option even though I spammed them like a McDonalds order.

What they basically said: reader being jealous of Enid or something then a lil but of Carl time. So yeah.

Warnings: Jealous reader, gender neutral reader, Enid basically stealing Carl idk, language, fluff, rude? Enid, Ron as advantage, some violence like shoving.

▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀ ▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀ ▀▄▀▄ ▄▀▄▀

Carl and Enid have been close friend for awhile now, and you so far... Didn't appreciate it. Not only that Carl was your boyfriend, but you didn't overly like Enid to be so... Kind to him lately.

Not going to lie, you got pretty pissed off. You swear you could see an evil glare followed along with a smirk in her eyes. You and Carl had some split times between the both jealous people. He would hang out with you often, but Enid hung out with him a lot too right in middle of your guys conversation, like you could hear her smile of greed.

People haven't known you for envy, but oh boy you sure did feel it around her. You clenched your fists and gritted you teeth out of annoyance when you see them walking around, with Enid a little to close to him for your liking.

Though you had an advantage. Ron. Ron and Enid broke up for God knows why. Him being the cheesy flirty bastard around you, you didn't mind to make Carl a little bit jealous to make him hang out with you.

You felt bad for toying with Carl, as if Ron and him were never on good terms anyway. Knowing that Carl would stick around you more trying to keep you from the boy he hates most, it would affect Carl and Enid's relationship as he turned down her offers.

Carl actually went with Enid into the woods for a walk. But you knee they were coming back soon, they usually leave around 12 P.M and come back at 2 P.M. It was currently 1:58 P.M so they would be right outside of the gates very soon. You had the matter of one minute to find Ron and walk around the entrance with him.

"Ron, wanna' go for a walk around town?" You flat out made a request, in which him being cheesy he accepted with a wink that you didn't want to see even if it saved your life.

It was 2:01 P.M. Perfect. He should be here right about... You heard the gates open as you and Ron were chatting near them. Carl and Enid laughing made your heart ache in jealousy, you pretended to have an interesting conversation as you smiled, you even knew Carl seen it.

You could feel his eyes burning into the back of Ron's skull. It's almost like you could hear him glare. Still, you two chatted away, making both you and Ron grin.

You could hear aggressive footsteps coming closer and closer, oh boy. You knew what was coming, but you expected it. An angry Carl shoved Ron to the ground, making a thud. Ron got cursed out by your boyfriend, Enid glancing at the fight from a distance.

"Boys-" they kept arguing as you called out for them, "Boys!" You said louder this time, making them both look at you. "Enough, holy crap." You didn't fully mean Carl to absolutely shove him, but it was heavily expected especially with Carl and all.

Carl took a step back, standing at you side glaring at Ron as he stood up and dusted his pants off. You felt guilty, Ron storming away pissed. You felt your heart jump as Carl held your hand though.

"Why was he here?" "It was getting boring without you here so I just chatted with Ron for awhile." Seemed innocent enough, a small smile crept onto your lips. "You know I hate him (y/n)!" He whined, "He's literally the only other person around out age, Carl." "Yeah I know that." He pouted. "Quit being so pouty." You joked, chuckling. God, your smile was to die for.

You both walked around, still holding hands and smiling, enjoying each other's presence. To bad the feeling got ended quickly, Enid came along, smiling.

"Hey Carl, you want to go into the woods again?" She offered, glancing at you then back at him. "Nah, I'm sorry, I'm with my partner at the moment." He shrugged. "Oh that's to bad." She sighed and walked away, making it seem like it was no big deal, but it surely was to her.

"Why is Enid always slobbering over you?" You asked, sighing. He just shrugged and hummed 'I dunno'. "You jealous or something?" He teased with a smile, you loved to see him smile so who were you to lie? "A little." You mumbled. "-but as if you don't make a difference between you and Ron." You added to your defense. He hummed as a 'I want to deny but I cant.' look.

"But I'm pretty sure you're jealous, I see them looks you give her." He smiles once again. You scoffed, "Fine. You caught me." You put your free hand up jokingly. "Is that why you hang out with Ron?" "No not really, once though, after I did once he kept coming back I swear. He's so cheesy." You laughed.

Before he went to say something you knocked the hat off his head and placed it on yours, holding onto it as you ran away. A loud "Hey!" Could be heard behind you as you looked behind you seeing Carl catch up slowly you ran faster.

You two were like a young couple, but who was to deny, you both were.

#carl grimes x male reader #carl grimes x fem!reader #the walking dead #jealousy #short fanfic #carl grimes x reader

[jade-parcels]

Is that my shirt, cutie?~

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* they’re just a lil excited~*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1/2 of my bloru sweet’n’spice collab event submission! Hehe <3 how fun! Fem!reader x Gorou and Thoma (separate) mentions of sweat/scent kinks, stealing dirty clothes, masturbation, teasing, somno (consent given off screen lol)

Gorou couldn’t believe he got to come home early today! His original goal had been to surprise you but when he threw the door open, expecting an excited gasp and warm kisses, he was met with a quiet house. He visibly sagged in disappointment though that didn’t last long. Being the praise driven sweetheart he is, he decided to pick up around the house and make you lunch- that sounded like a fun enough surprise! Selfishly, he was aware that you’d shower him in attention as thanks for taking initiative like this- the thought of you kissing his face, sweetly murmuring ‘what a good boy~’ against his cheek had his tail wagging and face heating up. So he got to work, humming while putting away laundry, organizing as he went.

When he started to make your bed, that’s when he got distracted. He found himself taking a moment to curl up on your side of the bed, smiling to himself as your scent clouded his senses. Fruity shampoo, floral lotion and the ever-remaining smell of sweat from your shared activities the night before. This morning, before the two of you had parted ways, he’d laid in bed as you changed into your outdoor clothes… Your pajama shirt still laid on top of the blankets where you’d left it. Last night he had fucked you from behind, trapping you in his arms, not allowing you shift away to take off your clothes. The shirt still reeked of sex, sweat and you. No no, this was far too shameful… He can’t get excited like this...

Gorou frowned at the fabric in his hands, his face flushed and cock hard just from your scent alone (poor baby gets riled up far too easily). That feeling of shame melted away as soon as he decided to give in. You were probably going to be gone for awhile, he figured he had some time to kill between chores so why not he self indulgent. He brought the shirt to his face, taking a deep breath. Your scent assaulted his brain, turning him dumb, forcing him to succumb to his instincts. He curled himself back into your blankets, taking deep, desperate breaths as his free hand shoved past his waistband. Gorou cried out as he jerked himself at an almost painful pace. This desire had washed over him so quickly it nearly gave him whiplash! Oh it hurt- it felt so good, he didn’t want it to stop- it wasn’t enough. He pitifully rutted into his fist, moaning and drooling all over your shirt as he did. You had him trained so well that he struggled to cum without you… no one could make him feel as good as you did. So he whined, gritting his teeth as he got so so close to finally feeling that sweet release but he just couldn’t get there-

“Is that my shirt, cutie?~” Gorou didn’t have the energy to look up at you, nor did he think he could handle seeing that teasing smile on your face “Aw, looks like you missed me,” Your cool hand trailed up the back of his shirt, rubbing soothing circles into his sweaty skin “How long have you been like this, baby? Looks like you need some help” all the general can do is nod and reach out towards you, pawing at your thigh with a soft ‘please’. You’d have to be straight up evil to say no to him, you hardly ever do, especially when he whines your name so nicely. So, with little fanfare, you strip and slide into bed with him. You hadn’t had time to shower, you’d just gotten home after all, and the smell of the outdoors clung to your soft skin. Gorou wasted no time in pinning you down, licking and sucking at your neck, jaw, collarbones- he pushed your legs apart to rut against you, moaning desperately in your ear- for archons sake, he was acting like a starved dog! as if he hadn’t already fucked you for hours the night before.

When he finally sank into you, tears of relief trickled down his cheeks ‘yes… yes thank you- need you so bad- thank you’ he punctuated his thrusts with whiny, mindless words, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You gripped the sheets beneath you as he rocked your bodies together with a ferocity you rarely saw outside of his ruts. A hands wandered away from your hip, shakily reaching out to untangle your fingers from the sheets so he could hold your hand. His grip was strong and only tightened, breath hitching, as he came. It never took much for him to cum, you could get him to cum in his pants easily on most normal days though today was obviously not normal, considering his behavior. Gorou groaned as he tried to catch his breath, gently rocking his hips into you despite the sensitivity “G-gimme a second I’ll return the favor- I promise,” he breathed, “Sorry… I didn’t mean to I…” you stroked his hair as he struggled to put words together, pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple

“What got you so riled up?” You ask, arching into him. You could feel him smirk against your skin as he reached over for the shirt you just took off. He took a deep breath, rubbing his cheek against the fabric “You smell real good… think you’re ovulating” His statement made you flush in embarrassment, not knowing that he could smell that… “Can we go another round? Please? I’ll make you feel so good, I promise” Those puppy eyes would be the death of you…

———

Thoma is dedicated to keeping the Kamisato estate clean, it’s his job after all. He keeps the bathroom spotless, the kitchen sparkling, the floors free of scuffs and the garden weedless (though not naku weedless). He also keeps his own living space relatively clean, mostly to show off to you. Lady Ayaka’s trusted secretary getting married to Lord Ayato’s favorite housekeeper. Some would say there’s a strange power balance in your relationship but those people were only outsiders looking in. Behind closed doors, the two of you fit together perfectly. Your work schedules clashed (and left him quite tired by the end of the day) but when you were together, it was all warm cuddles in bed and secret shared desserts after sundown. The Kamisatos knew of your relationship and permitted you two to continue to live with them until you felt ready to get a place of your own in the city.

Lady Ayaka had been invited to a gala at Watatsumi Island. Naturally, you were brought along which meant being apart from your husband for a full three weeks. Thoma wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he missed you :( he was used to holding you in his arms as he slept, so much so that he couldn’t even fall asleep without hugging something anymore. To try and squash the feeling of loneliness at night, he decided to sleep with your shirt over his pillow. The silky fabric against his cheek and the scent of sleep that clung to your blankets helped to lull him into dreamland in those nights you were away from him.

‘Dreamland’ was treating him well tonight. Your warm hands ghosted down his chest, your glossy lips leaving glittery kisses down his abdomen. The way you handled him got him flustered, oh so painfully hard. He buried his face into the pillow, rubbing himself against the bed as he dreamed of you. Oh archons you’re so beautiful. The dress you wore was hardly a dress with the way the front was wide open and the ‘skirt’ didn’t cover a single bit of you, it was just a single ruffle if anything. “Lay back, Thoma” he moaned as you said his name like that “Allow me to take care of you after allllll of your hard work lately~”

Your beloved was truly a sight to behold, rutting against the mattress and moaning your name in his sleep. You were going to surprise him with an early arrival but it seems you’d be able to surprise him in a different way. Ever so quietly, you peeled your clothes off and slid into bed behind him, reaching around him to rub his cockhead through his boxers. His breath stuttered at the contact, unintelligible begging muffled by the pillow. “I bet you’ve been so good while I’ve been away,” you whisper, pressing your body against his back “I’m glad you’re having sweet dreams~ They better be about me” he seems to react to your voice, another muffled moan followed a low grunt. You helped him roll onto his back, being careful to not wake him up before his surprise, and slid his underwear down his thighs. His cock springs free, you imagine he’s probably been like this for awhile with how sensitive he is to your touch, the way he arches so desperately into your hand at the slightest bit of attention

Thoma is entranced by you, watching with half lidded eyes as you ride him. He wants to reach up and play with your tits but his arms feel like lead so he lays there uselessly, crying from the pleasure as you pick up the pace. He hasn’t had sex in awhile, he’s held off on masturbating too, wanting to give you all he had once you returned. That familiar feeling of heat settled in his abdomen, his muscles clenching as he neared release. You were so tight, so hot, so real, so-

“Thoma~” you say his name again but this time it’s different, it’s like you’re calling for him through a tunnel “Thoma, baby open your eyes- oh honey don’t cry” His pretty green eyes flutter open, slutty tears slipping down his flushed cheeks as he looks up at you- the real you this time, not dreamland you. No wonder this was the most realistic sexual dream he’s ever had, it really was you riding him. His hands flew up to grip your thighs, a guttural sound escaping his throat as you tugged at his hair “Cum for me” you tell him, it was a demand he was happy to comply with. 3 weeks worth of pent up feelings finally escaped him, filling you with his thick, hot release. He cried out wordlessly, panting and drooling as he did. Thoma was absolutely fucked out, poor thing… But you still had to have your own happy ending as well

“Did you miss me?” You asked later as he pulled you against his chest. “Of course I did. Thought about you constantly” he whispered, resting his head on top of yours “it’s kinda humiliating that you saw me like that…” you merely laughed against his skin, shifting to look up at him again. Something caught your eye, something that you didn’t immediately notice earlier. His pillow was purple instead of grey

“Is this my shirt? Man, you really missed me huh~” “H-honey! Quit teasing me, please go to sleep”

#bloru.sweetnspice #genshin impact #genshin impact writing #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact thoma #genshin impact gorou #gorou x reader #thoma x reader #genshin smut #series: notsfw #series: smut

[oreharuuu]

Summary: Living in a small town with a famous priest for a father accidentally made you the target obsession for eight demons.

Pairing: yandere!demon!ateez x reader

Warnings: religious setting, yandere themes, obsessive behavior, stalking, invasion of privacy, forced love, noncon mind erasing

A/N: so sorry this took so long for @sollattes T-T I keep rewriting and adding new things because I can't see it working well. A warning, this story contains a lil bit of a religious theme but it's not that focused on, so please read with caution. But hope y'all like it!

Taglist: @starillusion13 @cqndiedcherries @wooyoungjpg @miriamxsworld

‌Honestly, if they're basically the same as the demons in my series "éta ritual", then it'll be such an easy thing for them to do to manipulate readers mind to love them if they want too.

‌But that's too boring! We want more exciting things. And you know what will be more exciting? If reader's father is a priest, the starting catalyst for reader meeting demon!ateez.

‌Let's start from the beginning.

‌You're religious, but you're not the type to force your own beliefs onto others. Yes, you go to Catholic School, but you stayed away from the crazies that to you are a bit too extreme on religion.

‌Your father works as a priest, especially the ones who exorcise possessed people. Your father never showed you his line of work, deeming it too disturbing for you as sometimes it gets too extreme.

‌But you're curious. You want to know what exactly he does to help these people. You never fully believed the presence of evil entities since you never really acknowledged it. But when you heard praises from other people about your father's work and basically how famous he is, you're curious as to see how bad exorcism could possibly be.

‌So you pushed your father until he agreed, taking you to a case outside of your city. A young girl, believed to be enticed by a demon to do horrible things. The reason is still unknown, and your father is called to investigate.

‌You perceive the whole thing with doubt, eyeing the girl with hard eyes as your father continues to ask her questions about why she did the acts she did. You grimaced when she lets out a piercing shriek, flailing around to escape the hold she's trapped in.

‌You eyed the camera recording all of this, feeling how wrong it is to record someone in a vulnerable state; sitting down besides it as you eyed the scene from the screen, only to be shocked when you noticed eight black figures standing behind the girl.

‌You stayed calm, trying to hide a flinch when one of them made eye contact with you through the camera, smirking as he tilted his head slightly. His mouth moved as if he's talking, but none of the other figures are noticing. That's when you noticed what words he's mouthing. "You can see us, can you?"

‌The girls lets out a final, pained shriek before collapsing, everyone in the room exhaling in relief as they hoisted the girl to her room. Your father proceeds to talk to her parents, glancing at you every now and then to make sure you're okay.

‌Your eyes moved back towards the screen, humming in confusion when you noticed none of the figures are there.

‌After this encounter, you start to experience weird things happening. Items moving from its original spot, the TV turning on at random times, the feeling of being watched; anything that makes you even more paranoid when your father only met your claims with a confused look. But you stayed calm, ignoring the weird things that are happening more and more before it just...disappeared.

‌Then, as if things couldn't get any weirder, eight boys transferred to your school in the middle of nowhere. Eight boys that made your school and town go wild with gossip. Sure, you're interested in them but you're practically a nobody. And people are hogging them at every time since they're curious about the boys.

‌Small towns like yours experiencing something shocking like these are suspicious enough. No one wants to move to this boring old town just because they want a change of scenery, that's why you decided to avoid them. You're already suspicious when one of them smiled at you brightly, even though you've never met him before.

‌Of course, avoiding them didn't happen when one of the boys asked you where the library is on lunch. Begrudgingly, you lead the way to the library since you noticed the boy only got more confused when you told him the directions. He thanked you and introduced himself as Seonghwa, the eldest of the bunch.

‌After that, it feels like God is laughing upon you as your meeting with the boys only grew more frequently. They're nice and all but you like to kept to yourself, only socializing to your close friends. Seems like all of them wants to be your close friends.

‌Wooyoung and Jongho were the two boys that you always met with, since you three are partnered up for a group project. Wooyoung was loud while Jongho was calm, a bit of an odd pair but they worked nonetheless with you. One thing that's weird though, is how tense and awkward they are when meeting your father, noticing how straight and tense their posture is, giving a smile to your father that didn't even reach their eyes.

‌You really do want to be close with them, but there's this gnawing feeling deep inside you that makes you suspicious of them. They're faces are somewhat familiar to you, yet you can't place your finger as to why.

‌Not only that, they're oddly...obsessive and possessive towards you. You had minimal interactions (except for Wooyoung and Jongho,even then you only talked with them when you need to work on the project) with them yet your friends are always confused as to why they're always boasting about your relationship with them. This only irks you more when people begin to ask what your relationship is with them, even your father had to ask!

‌This prompts you to ask them what's going on, only for them to act innocent and dodging your question with easy smiles. It only irks you more when more people ask you, because of this you could just imagine the dumb satisfied smirk on their faces.

‌The reason why they're so obsessed with you can't be summarized short. Truthfully, Yunho only told his brothers about you because you're the only one who noticed them. Smart girl for using the camera to see them.

‌They've decided to move on to another victim, seeing as the girl's energy is already drained enough from them pestering her and because of the exorcism. That's why they chose you to be exact. A bit of a fun choice since they realized that your father is the priest, only fueling their hunger for you.

‌At first, they followed you because they want to absorb your energy through your fear. Resulting in them trying to scare you or make you run to your father to tattle on them. But surprisingly enough, you stayed calm, eyeing everything with doubt and suspicion that it almost frustrates them.

‌That's what makes them obsessed. In the end, they're craving for your attention. Anything to make your attention solely on them.

‌They'll go to any lengths, even pretending to be new students from your school just to be one step closer to you.

‌Wooyoung couldn't even handle his excitement when you actually stare at him from a distance. You're staring at him! You're actually paying attention to him! Hongjoong has to physically hold Wooyoung back before he follows you around everywhere only on day one.

‌You think they'll stop seeing you after school? Yeah, they'll still follow you home and just observe you at home. A few of the boys respected your privacy while others...not so much.

‌They'll try very hard to make you fall in love with them. Pesky boys that also likes you? Gone, they moved in the middle of the school year. Jealous friends who lies to you? Suddenly they're gone from school, no one knows where they are. Anything or anyone they consider as a threat or a nuisance, they'll gladly remove it in seconds.

‌If you do begin a relationship with them, they'll be ecstatic! At the beginning of the relationship, I think they'll try to be authentic and act normally without using their powers. They really do love you, that's why they want to experience things with you without them using their powers. They'll eventually use it if they have too but you'll never know.

‌Seonghwa will be with you everywhere, carrying your bags or books as you move classes. Hongjoong will show you his favorite songs, the both of you listening to songs together in the library as you worked through your assignments. Yunho and Mingi will always be there in your classes, whether it's one of them or both of them; you bet they'll always be the one sitting besides you, exchanging notes every now and then when the lecture is boring. Yeosang and Jongho are both the only ones who are helpful with helping you learn materials, you'll invite them to your house or a nearby library to learn from them. Wooyoung sometimes cooks you lunch, asking for your opinion about certain foods that you don't even know the name of. And San just likes to hangout with you to feed the cats outside of school, basically claiming that you and him are their parents as you make small cardboard houses for them.

‌Look, you're relationship is cute and all but remember; you're living in a small town filled with religious people and you're father is a priest. They can't accept your relationship with the boys, so you kept it hidden. The public scrutiny you'll receive your whole life will always make you anxious whenever you're with the boys. You can't help it, words will spread like wildfire when something as weird as being in a poly relationship with the new students are known to everyone.

‌They'll notice it for sure, subtly using their powers to ease your anxiety a little bit to forget about your worries for a while. You're with them now, you don't have to worry about being scared because of some lowlife humans that are beneath you.

‌There's two possible outcomes that could happen, the good and bad one. It really depends on how you see it.

‌The good one is that after graduating, you decide to just move out of the small town because you're in love with them, you can't help yourself to break up with them. So you told them about your worries, and they'll happily agree to move out of the town if it means they'll be more open with you. They're already planning on bringing you along by force after graduating, but with you wanting to move by yourself was already helping them by a mile.

‌You'll keep it a secret from your father, just saying that you want a change of scenery when you're in university. He'll agree, of course, since he didn't find anything suspicious because your reasoning is wanting to continue your education. Even though it's somewhat true, you're actually a bit relived and happy to move out and continue on with your life with your boys.

‌The bad one somewhat happens because of your religious beliefs. The guilt eating your mind as you think back and forth if this relationship is the right choice for you to do. It feels wrong to be in this relationship, and you're afraid of what people will assume because of this relationship. That's why you want to break up with them.

‌But this will only be the catalyst for the boys to actually lose their minds. They already worked so hard to show their love and devotion to you, and this is how you treat them in the end? They'll be livid, but they'll accept the break up nonetheless calmly. But that doesn't mean they're giving up.

‌They, in the end, will force you to come with them, wiping your tears away as they force you out of the house. They'll coo and comfort you, saying how much they love you and how much they expect you to love them back. You're their soulmate, you can't just leave them behind.

‌They'll use their powers to basically force you into submission, maybe even erasing your memories to insert new ones that they created just so you could love them back. You'll forget everything about your old life, and you'll follow them everywhere because of how easy it is to control you.

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #yandere ateez #poly ateez x reader #yandere #request💌